02-14-2020, 12:07 AM
(This post was last modified: 02-14-2020, 12:09 AM by Christopher Hurley [deceased].)
[CW: Dehumanization, racism, slavery, normalization of pedophilia, etc.]
There were a few boys like Simon, though Simon was certainly the oldest of them. They were easier on the eyes without all the masculine angles, the force of will, and the difficulty of properly breaking.
He was a dog man for a while, but he was beginning to flirt with the idea of breaking horses instead ... and Simon was his first stallion.
Occasionally he would find a boy - a boy who had not considered other boys in such a way, preferably - drowning his sorrows in the way of his filthy parents. Pliable. Reluctant, but just smart enough to give in for a shilling or two.
And he would own them, like his family owned the plantation slaves in South America. Not on paper - but in mind, in deed, in body. He would pick boys with no chance of escaping their fate.
His eyes hit the red hair first, and then widened in fury at the bag. He smoothed his suit out, strode over, and picked it up like he owned it.
With a sneer down at Simon, he opened it up and spilled the contents wordlessly on the floor. Where on earth did one of his little Whitby sluts think he was going!?
There were a few boys like Simon, though Simon was certainly the oldest of them. They were easier on the eyes without all the masculine angles, the force of will, and the difficulty of properly breaking.
He was a dog man for a while, but he was beginning to flirt with the idea of breaking horses instead ... and Simon was his first stallion.
Occasionally he would find a boy - a boy who had not considered other boys in such a way, preferably - drowning his sorrows in the way of his filthy parents. Pliable. Reluctant, but just smart enough to give in for a shilling or two.
And he would own them, like his family owned the plantation slaves in South America. Not on paper - but in mind, in deed, in body. He would pick boys with no chance of escaping their fate.
His eyes hit the red hair first, and then widened in fury at the bag. He smoothed his suit out, strode over, and picked it up like he owned it.
With a sneer down at Simon, he opened it up and spilled the contents wordlessly on the floor. Where on earth did one of his little Whitby sluts think he was going!?
