The Slave Daycare – Part 02

By Taurus

Note: To start at the very beginning of this story, click here.

Chapter 12 – The Operative

The daycare had no scheduled visitors today, but Frank and his slaves still dutifully went to work even if everyone else was allowed to stay home. However, where Frank toiled at his computer, the slaves had quite a lot of leisure time to waste.

“Why are you still here?”

Frank knew the answer to his question that the slaves would elect to answer with silence; his slaves were far too hardworking to allow themselves rest.

And so he would tell them to.

“Go to the common area, play and have fun, or else.”

“Or else?”

“Or else I’ll make you wear clothes.”

A gasp.

“That are one size too small.”

Thoroughly terrified by the thought of clothing, the slaves slinked out of sight as fast as they could manage.

The empty playspace was very spacious, though the slaves’ idea of fun was not the usual running around, wrestling, or even attempts to masturbate.

To them, a calm conversation would do; huddled together amidst bunches of cushions, setting their phones to the side to concentrate.

They began by laughing at how their owner had a sense of humour.

“I do like warm clothes and blankets though,” Grey thought out loud, before suddenly finding that he had a blond slave tending to his warmth problem – whether it existed or not – with a hug.

“You look like father and son,” Warren remarked, as Magnus rested his head on Grey’s shoulder.

“Are you calling me old?”

“It’s fair – I have forehead wrinkles and a beard and you called me a ‘young little man.’”

As the banter continued, Magnus played his role of the son with utmost dedication, observing his “parents” argue (jokingly) over their nicknames for each other.

“What’s so funny, boy?”

It seemed Grey and Warren were getting onboard the family roleplay too.

“We’re a family. An actual family.”

An awkward silence developed as neither Grey nor Warren knew for sure whether Magnus was playing a character or speaking seriously, and hence did not have any answer queued up.

Magnus’ expression of a tender smile did not change.

“We’re a family, just not how we’re roleplaying; Master Frank is our papa, and you’re my brothers.

“And little bro needs a hug!”

There were many objections to Magnus’ childish demands, the three most major ones being that Magnus was the first of the three Frank bought and should hence be the “eldest”, that Magnus could have worked in his demands more subtly, and that Magnus was by no means “little” or “littlest” – he struck a balance between Warren and Grey, and all three of them were routinely bigger than the slaves they took care of anyway.

Still. “little bro” got his hugs.


The one who exclaimed knelt and looked at the family of slaves with curious eyes, who Magnus and Warren turned to greet before Grey pulled them back into their hug, like a bully pushing the unpopular kid away.

“Why not?”

Their visitor asked the question on behalf of Grey and Warren. After all, he was not too dissimilar from them, being a hunky slave with a smart buzz cut and clothed in the standard garb of a sex slave – nothing except a chastity cage.

“We would’ve gotten a ping if you were a legit client, and we use electronic locks anyway. That means someone gave you access we didn’t want you to have.

“You’re not a real slave; give me a reason why I should let you near my little brothers.”

Magnus and Warren barely had the time to process what Grey just said when their visitor summarised it as concisely as it could have been.

“Guess I’m made.

“I’m undercover, to get to know you better and to look a little deeper into Graham Farrant and his connection with Halcyon and the government. I hacked the locks so that I could talk to you in private.”


Grey’s stance was firm and absolutely unmistakable.

Reaching over, he tapped on the covert earpiece Magnus had worn all along, and looked up at a security camera to reveal they were not speaking in private after all.

“Sir, we’re slaves, not soldiers.”


Chapter 13 – Persistence

“Liam, please. This is the third time I’ve told you no.”

Magnus was the softest of the trio and was the easiest to talk to, though it only meant that Liam was rejected in less brutal ways.

“Play with me, please?”

“I have a pair of pups to look after.”

Magnus was indeed busy, showering the slaves before him with smiles a master would have – warm and loving – and gentle rubs. He was no close substitute, obviously, but he was doing a fine job of keeping them occupied enough to stay still.

“Go find Warren.”

Liam winced – he did not want to get tossed again.

“Magnus, why don’t you trust the police?”

“It’s you I don’t trust.

“You’re a normal human who’s pretending to be a slave. You don’t understand that this isn’t a way of life; it’s the whole point of your life. You’re whatever your owner wants you to be, and you either be that, or you suffer until you become it.

“We’re classed like those intelligent robots are. Animal cruelty laws don’t protect us.

“Come back when you’ve thrown away your human rights and your genes are in the registry.”

Seeing that his angry rant had wiped the hard-earned smiles off the puppies’ faces and replaced them with looks of worry, Magnus gave in and laid down, allowing the puppies to perform their duty of cheering people up.

“These are slaves,” Magnus announced, stroking the puppies’ heads as they kissed his pecs, “we need food, a roof over our heads, a loving owner, and nothing else.

“If you don’t understand, fuck off.”

It turned out “less brutal” was still incredibly brutal indeed. At least Liam had gotten used to turning around and leaving with grace and efficiency.

The puppies had, thus far, remained in character, but the one in Magnus’ right arm decided that he wanted to do more for his blond caretaker after discovering that his presence alone was not enough to erase Magnus’ sorrows.

“Everything alright?”

“It’s fine, don’t worry. I won’t shout at you two.”

“What’s he talking about?”

“Woof. Nap nap.”

Magnus concluded this brief conversation and ushered the puppies to have a nap. After all, the correct headspace was a nearly mindless one, where cuddles and kisses and naps were the only things of any importance.


Chapter 14 – Purification

With the tap of a button, Magnus’ torso was raised another half an inch into the air, forcing him to stand on the balls of his feet, which were already spread apart by a metal bar to which his balls were tied.

The final touches to Magnus’ torment included a ball gag and a pair of electro nipple clamps.

As soon as the clamps were turned on, Magnus started grunting and struggling involuntarily as the invisible hands of electricity jerked him around.

For the most part, his eyes were squeezed shut, but during the few moments they were open, one could easily see just how much pain his body was forced to endure.

Every time his torso twisted, so were his balls twisted. His ample muscles were a liability as his feet could barely support him, and whenever he stood normally, his shoulders would burn with searing pain.

Warren cringed with every new scream that came out of Magnus’ mouth. The eight minutes that the timer said Magnus would have to suffer for was seeming more and more ludicrous by the second.

Before he could reach for the TENS unit, Frank stopped him.

“Sir, he’s in so much pain…”

“I know,” Frank reassured, though it took this plus pulling Warren into his arm to comfort the hulking slave.

Perhaps it was a good thing Magnus asked to be tied up as he was after the playspace had emptied for the night – even the otherwise stoic Grey had joined Warren by their owner’s side with a worried look on his face.


As Magnus was released from his bondage, he found that the men who were naked were chanting “you idiot” as if he was a cult’s offering to their god.

That god was evidently Frank, who welcomed their sacrifice with open arms, and proceeded to use those very arms to lovingly hold and stroke Magnus all over.

“Tell us.”

Frank’s order was simple, concise, and impossible to refuse.

“Last week, I told Liam I only needed food and shelter and you, sir. I’m getting distracted – I wanted sex and that’s not how I should be.”

“You really are an idiot,” Frank chuckled.

“Listen, we could either stay here, or we could go home and talk. What’ll it be, boy?”

Frank liked to use “boy” in these tenderer moments, almost as an invitation to reflect.

“Go home.”

“Good boy.”


Chapter 15 – The Rock

There was pandemonium in the daycare, brimming – as usual – with hyperactive pups and horny gimps, desperate for skin-on-skin contact and affection as they rolled about and wrestled anyone and anything they could wrap their arms around. A chaotic but joyous electricity filled the space, and infectious giggling and laughter became all anyone could hear.

“Before we get to work…”

With practised ease, Grey herded Magnus and Warren into his arms and they shared a brief hug.

They always ate and slept together, but Magnus never had the chance to fully appreciate the heart-melting sensations of burying his head between two chins and chests’ worth of fluff, a chance that he gave to his friends as well, who presumably liked it as much as he did.

There were no cues between the three; the slaves knew each other well enough by now to work on instinct – like trained dogs herding sheep into a corral, they divided the slaves evenly between them and began occupying their attention.

As ever, Magnus was a magnet for puppies, of which there were three swarming him. Their act of burying their faces in his pits and chest, shaking themselves and sniffing aggressively tickled Magnus, whose giggles only egged them on.

He accepted his fate; this was the price he paid to be possibly the fluffiest slave ever. Besides, having puppy slaves shower him with affection was nothing to turn his nose up at.

As if coordinated by an invisible astral force, the playspace seemed to calm down all at once as the slaves tired themselves out on their chosen cuddling cushions, giving Magnus a chance to breathe.

He exchanged looks with Grey and Warren, whose slaves by now had calmed enough to lie quietly by their sides.

They seemed to be doing fine, judging by their smiles.

“Your job’s hard…”

This voice belonged to a slave not unlike Magnus – blond and bearded. He was not particularly muscular, but he had a cute amount of chest fluff.

Magnus gasped – he had forgotten about of one of his slaves!

“I wanted to just look.”

Magnus’ observer had knelt in plain sight, taking advantage of the fact that Magnus had to deal with the onslaught of stimulation that was the three other slaves.

“Sorry, I don’t have free space,” Magnus apologised. The only part of him with enough space left to be used as a pillow was at his feet, a far cry from the velvety softness he otherwise dealt in.


It was decided wordlessly that Magnus would pay his ignored slave back with a one-on-one cuddling session.

“Wolfie,” as he was known, had a distinctly middling body that struck a tasteful median in most aspects – musculature, height, and weight among others. There were few imbalances and defects, and so it was a generally uninteresting affair aside from the occasional stroking of fur.

After the morning visitors had left with their pets, the playspace was now absent hyper-enthusiastic slaves, leaving Grey and Warren to their own operations.

Magnus chose to sit against a wall, propped up with cushions while cradling Wolfie in his arms.

“You work hard.”

“Thank you.”

“And they don’t thank you enough.”

Magnus chuckled.

“You got me there.”

The pair of blond slaves spent the next few minutes in silence, as Wolfie periodically sucked on Magnus’ nipple.

“You’re getting me hard in my chastity,” Magnus whispered, as he slowly turned Wolfie’s head such that he now rested his cheek on Magnus’ pec.

“Sorry…does it hurt?”

Wolfie climbed out of Magnus’ arms, and rested his head on his caretaker’s shoulder.

“It does, doesn’t it?”

“It’s been months. I’m allowed to have sex and have orgasms but now that I know, it’s…it’s all I can really think of.

“I shouldn’t think this, I should just…want to serve my owner, I – ugh!”

Wolfie was physically smaller in every way, but he so radiantly exudes calmness, so much so that Magnus could not help but return Wolfie’s gesture of putting his head on his shoulder.

“Maybe that’s a good thing.”


“I don’t really know why you believe that, but it’s good to just stop thinking sometimes.”

Magnus laughed as he shook his head. Obviously, he laughed at Wolfie. He was naive; he was probably new to this world and the spirituality of it all went over his head.

There was a value in serving one’s owner not as an employer, but as a master. Obedience was no longer the means to survival, but it was its own purpose. At the end of perfect self-denial was, as Magnus believed, transcendental ecstasy, unparalleled by anything material or earthly could ever provide. On this point, Wolfie was thoroughly clueless.

But his laughter masked sadness.

With his eyes closed, Magnus searched for Wolfie’s hand, and when he found his target, he grasped it firmly.

Naivety. Oh, how he longed.


Chapter 16 – The Teacher

Magnus was excited to begin his day; his job was “get Wolfie from the dorms, and babysit him”.

Adjoining the main area of the daycare were the “dormitories” – simple rooms with beds and toilets. Generally, Magnus had no need to be there, as his duties were within the playspace and the holding cells.

Obediently kneeling by a guard was Wolfie, whose cuffed hands hung relaxedly between his thighs. A brief exchange of pleasantries later, Wolfie’s cuffs were unlocked.

“Let’s go.” Magnus extended a hand after helping Wolfie to his feet.


“You got a son now?”

“Ignore Warren” was Magnus’ first order to Wolfie to dismiss the joke.

This failed spectacularly; Wolfie obeyed the order insofar as not directly responding to Warren was concerned, but he wrapped his arms around Magnus in order to do so, and as such only fed the fire of Warren’s teasing.

“Aww, the lil’ guy loves you.”

“Lil’ guy?”

Wolfie was not “little”. He was full size, with pronounced musculature and all. The only way he was “little” was when comparing him to the behemoths of muscle and fur around him.

As if aware of this, Wolfie shrank his presence by resting his head on Magnus’ shoulder and cooing, which elicited a sigh from Magnus.

“If he hasn’t pushed you away, it means he likes you.”

“You have your own slaves to take care of,” Magnus said, lightly kicking Warren, “now stop bothering mine.”

“See? He really likes you!” Warren laughed, before slinking away, narrowly dodging another kick.

Then there was a gentle slap on Wolfie’s arm – the little tremblings betrayed that he was stifling a laugh.

“Curious about our little family?”

Grey’s coaching paid off – Magnus had chosen the best words. By now, Wolfie’s mind was likely awash with confused thoughts.

“I…I thought…”

“Thought we were just for sex? No, we can do so much more.”

Wolfie’s shining eyes wordlessly asked “like what?”

“For now, I want to know more about you. Start telling me some stories.”


After lunch, Warren came by to check on Magnus and Wolfie, who were nestled away in a quiet corner of the playspace, overlooking a group of slaves.

“How’s the lil’ guy?”

“Answer when you’re asked a question,” Magnus whispered.

“I’m feeling good, thanks.”

With a swift motion, Warren scooped up Wolfie and placed him facing the expansive playspace he had ignored to be in Magnus’s arms.

“If you’re feeling good go play. You tiny things need exercise.”

If there was any slave qualified to call others “tiny things”, it was the massively muscled wrestler who towered imposingly over the knelt Wolfie, who heeded his advice.

“And now, I’ll ask about you,” Warren said as he sat down next to Magnus, who was now free of duties and out of earshot of the slaves. “What’s with the change in attitude?”

“The more you hug him the cuter he gets.”

A pregnant pause.

“Oh no, don’t tell me you’re gonna get all sappy and shit.”

If the fact that they looked like parents looking over their children at a playground was not enough, then the butterflies in the stomach certainly indicated to them unequivocally that they were already feeling sentimental for this slave they just met.

The cheers and laughter were not enough to break the uneasy silence.

“I don’t suppose we could get a little brother?”

Magnus sighed.

“He’s a week old, sold two years ago.”

It did not take long before Magnus summarised his observations.

“We’re hopeless.”

Warren was disappointed that he could only concur.

“How long?”

“One month.”


Chapter 17 – Bonding Time

Over the following days, Magnus personally oversaw everything Wolfie did, and they were always seen together.

In just a week, Magnus had laid the groundwork for Wolfie to receive his formal owner’s training, gently preparing him to transition from the cloudcuckooland of the daycare to the real world.

Magnus had prepared for another lecture on Grey’s courtesan philosophy, but an update threw a spanner into his plans.

“Owner wants Wolfie to get some slave training so that he would not have to train him from scratch.”


“We usually stay in the playspace. Why are we here?”

“Your owner wants you to be trained a bit before he receives you. That’s why we’re in a cell – I don’t want to be disturbed.”

After closing the cell door, Magnus set down a canvas bag, and from it produced two pairs of leather cuffs, two clips, a coil of rope, and a blindfold.

“The first lesson is learning to stay calm in bondage.”

Sensing that Wolfie was nervous, Magnus pulled him into his arms.

“I know, I know. It’s difficult, but I’ve been through this before. I’ll be right here with you, and tell me ‘Parnassus’ if it’s too much.”

Wolfie maintained silence, but it was clear that he was reassured – there was no protest when he tested out his cuffs.

The blindfold was the last to be applied.

“When I put this on, you won’t see anything. When I move away to put my bag away, you’ll feel like I’ve left you alone. Don’t believe that – I’m always in this cell. If you want me to prove it, call my name, and I’ll call you right back.



As efficiently as he could possibly manage, Magnus buckled on the blindfold, and went to move his bag out of the way.



Unwilling to hear any more proof that Wolfie was not comfortable, Magnus hurried back and took the bound slave in his arms.

“I know it’s difficult. I tied your hands and legs together so you can’t just come find me.

“Remember, we aren’t just toys. We’re what our owners want us to be, and as they mould us, we experience their love and care.

“Focus on your breathing. Make friends with those cuffs, they keep you safe and close to your owner.”

Eventually, Wolfie did everything Magnus told him to. His breathing was now at a measured pace, and he no longer pulled on his cuffs in a struggle to get free.

He even knew to keep his back straight and his head down.

Magnus observed with some interest Wolfie’s cock, which had steadily pointed further and further upwards over the past few minutes – Wolfie had all the signs of a good sex slave. But apart from this, Magnus’ job was exceedingly boring; all he could do was look at the slave before him, who was able to savour the heightened sensations, and longingly yearn for a day where he too, would be able to get erect.

More accurately perhaps, he was always able to get erect, it was just not particularly comfortable when he did.

The silver lining to Magnus’ boredom was that Wolfie was evidently able to cope with the applied bondage, which was soon removed, enabling Wolfie to do what he wanted all along – lying in Magnus’ arms.

“Any pain?”

The tickling on Magnus’ arm seemed to come from a head shaking, so there was likely none.

“There will be more training to come, be prepared for it.”

“Was I a good boy?”

“Yes…good boy.”


Chapter 18 – Team-building

The van barely inched towards the nightclub. A long queue of cars – some of which were low-slung supercars that could barely turn – trying their best to navigate the surprisingly complex roads had practically crippled vehicular transport.

Walking was not much better: a massive crowd had gathered at the entrance. Police had set up cordons and signs to control the flow of foot traffic away from the area.

All this the slaves could see through a screen that showed a live camera feed from the roof of the van.

“Thanks for the van,” said Magnus, a hint of relief in his voice, “some of those are definitely here for trouble.”

“What’s Eclipse like?” Wolfie asked, his arm locked with Magnus’.

“It’s the best at literally everything,” replied the driver, “no one else would bother to hire a van to make sure you don’t get hounded. And they pay handsomely too.”

Indeed, “best at everything” seemed to be Eclipse’s motto. Aside from having the most attractive slave dancers, they also boasted the greatest variety of events, the best music, and utmost discretion.

“Just try and enjoy yourselves; Eclipse knows what they’re doing and they take good care of their slaves.”


After clearing the massive traffic jam, the slaves were let out of the back of the van near a covert back door. A guard, disguised as a party guest, ushered them inside, where another two guards set about giving the slaves a quick clean, then slathered their bodies with oil.

A suited man emerged from an inconspicuous office, holding a booklet that seemed to suggest his importance, and began to inspect the pair of slaves.

“Damn, you’ll look great on stage!”

With the director’s approval, the slaves donned their costumes – gagged, leashed, cuffed, and impaled with anal hooks roped to the back of their collars – and prepared to enter on stage, rendezvousing with their dom performers.

There was barely enough time for the slaves to catch their breath as they were yanked onto the stage, immediately racking up punishments of ass slaps as they stumbled into their doms.

Whistles and cheers erupted from the crowd.

“Once a slave, always a slave…”

The audience was not interested in waxing poetic, as the dramatic monologue was interrupted by the demand to “torture the brothers”.

The doms were fine with going off-script – the pair of blond slaves were always going to suffer anyway.

From a table, lined with “torture tools”, the doms each picked up a flogger and ground their hips against their slave’s crotch.

“Protect Wolfie, we’ll go from there,” whispered the dom grinding on Magnus.

The cue was a twist of Magnus’ nip – though he had no use of his arms, he did his best to approximate a hug and concealed the far smaller Wolfie from the audience’s view.

“Aww…big bro doesn’t want lil’ bro to get hurt, he’ll have to pick up the slack!”

Magnus counted twenty lashes, none of which were remotely painful given his extensive training, which meant he had to act out his moaning.

Wolfie, on the other hand, was whimpering anxiously. It took resting his forehead on Magnus’ right shoulder to get calm again.

Magnus soon found himself unable to comfort the nervous Wolfie, however, as he was pulled to the front of the stage and immobilised in a choke hold.

The audience quietened in anticipation.

“You don’t want lil’ bro to be tortured, huh?”

Magnus shook his head as much as he could, per his instructions.

“So, everything we would’ve done to your brother, we’ll do to you.

“You’ll shout and scream and beg for it to stop, but we’ll keep going, because tonight we just want to torture some meat.”

“YEH HER! PEA HER!” (“Yes sir! Please sir!”)

The roar from the crowd was deafening as a large rack was wheeled onto stage. Clearly, Magnus was to be tied spreadeagle to it, and so he was with the efficient hands of both doms.

Amidst all the chaos, Magnus snuck a nod and a wink at Wolfie, who had assumed a kneeling position with a seductive arch in his lower back – posture training had paid off.

Magnus indeed endured the torment intended for two slaves solely with his body, more literally than he thought; he wore two pairs of nipple clamps, was blinded with a buckling blindfold on top of having his eyes wrapped in fabric, and received a double helping of leather belts and chains that forced his knees and thighs apart.

Wolfie was not permitted a break, however. Magnus’ leash was clipped to the back of Wolfie’s collar instead, which enabled Wolfie’s dom to keep his eyes trained at his “big brother”, who suffered in his stead.

Magnus tested his bondage – he was allowed two inches of slack at his wrists and ankles. This caused the doms to quickly realise their error of allowing Magnus and Wolfie the use of fingers, and so promptly locked their hands in fist mitts to prevent any chance of escape.

“A suffering slave is a good slave, a frustrated slave is a good slave…

“Let’s turn them into good slaves!”

The doms need not have asked the roaring crowd to unlock Magnus’ chastity cage.


The minutes were hours.

Nothing had meaning.

He had to cum.

Right here, right now.

The next chance was in two years.

He needed to cum.

Right here, right now.


The sadistic cheers were indistinguishable from his own screams of pain and pleading.

Words lost all meaning; grunting was easier.

As the floggers bounced his cock and the chains between his nipples round and round, he could feel pent up energy he never knew he had rush through his veins.

But the doms knew perfectly, and he was not going to cum no matter how beastly he cried.

“You suffering yet?”

Magnus growled with an uncharacteristic tone – deep and gravelly and without any semblance of control, which startled Wolfie – Magnus was always gentle and often spoke to him in a high pitch as one would to babies.

“Good! We’ll keep going until you break!”

Another roar; the nightclub harmonised in an unholy chorale that shook the very foundations.


He was still tied up as he was on the stage, spread out on the damned rack. Every passing guest who decided to touch his cock threatened to turn him back into the mindless beast that he was.

This bondage was intense, but nothing too arduous physically – it had only been half an hour, and yet he felt as if he was about to go mad.

His erection was not pleasurable – he could barely feel his cock move even when his trembling shook his hips.

The gloss of the oil had gone, but reapplication was totally unnecessary – real water from perspiration and drooling drenched his body, and he glittered like a disco ball.

Suddenly, movement – he was being moved back on stage.

“A suffering slave is a good slave. The torture continues even as the chains come off…”

As icy water poured down Magnus’ abs, his desperation made way for resignation. Before long, his chastity cage was locked back on to the tune of wild applause, and he was wheeled backstage where his bondage was undone.


Chapter 19 – The Empath

“What’re you doing?”

The unhelpful answer to Wolfie’s question was that Magnus had rubbed his hands all over his wet and oily body for lube, and had proceeded to stroke Wolfie’s cock.

The helpful answer was the one Magnus provided.

“Making sure you get to cum.”

“I’m fine.”

“Do you want to suffer like I did just now? Forever?”

“You taught me…if our owners want us to be frustrated, then we should be frustrated.”


The ruckus from the slave resting room caught the attention of various members of staff, who dared only watch the pair of slaves from afar at the doorway.

They all sighed in relief when Magnus hugged the very startled Wolfie.

“Sorry, I…”

There were no more words Magnus could say. There was no “because”. There was simply pain and frustration, then there was nothing he could do. His desperation was impossible to explain in the sensible language of rationale and logic.

“It’s okay…papa.”

An icicle pierced Magnus’ heart.

“I checked – I have your genes. I have to tell you.”

For an entire minute, the slaves seemingly froze in their embrace, unable to make sounds other than breathing.

“What should I call you now…?” Magnus eventually asked, his voice trembling uncontrollably as he slowly found the courage.

“Call me anything you want. Even if it’s not ‘Wolfie’.”

A kiss on Magnus’ cheek.

The door to the resting room was closed as stealthily as the eavesdropping Eclipse staff could manage.

This was a christening.

“Will you take the name of Leif?”

“I will.”

“So your name is Leif, after Leif Eriksson. I want you to see everything this world has to offer.

“I’m sorry I’m a slave. I can’t give you freedom and your body will be used every day. I’m sorry I can’t stay…”

“It’s okay, papa…” Leif said, as he delivered more and more kisses to a sobbing Magnus, who had buried his head in his son’s chest.

“Promise papa…you’ll masturbate and you’ll blow your load while you still can, before you’re shipped off to your owner tomorrow.”

Without another word, Leif obeyed Magnus’ command, and very quickly shot a load onto his father’s abs.

“Good boy, Leif, good boy…”

Metal would like to thank Taurus for this story!

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