"LEGACY OF A MASTER (LOOKING FOR AN HEIR)

My Master died. Life took him without warning, without giving me time to say goodbye. One day we were training, the next his cold body in a hospital bed. He didn’t tell me who to leave me to. He didn’t sell me. He didn’t give me away. He simply left, and I stayed here, with my ass trained, with the reflexes engraved, waiting.

But before he left, once he exhibited me. I want you to know how it was.

He told me a friend of his was coming. “He wants to see you. He wants to see how you respond.” He didn’t ask me if I wanted to. He didn’t warn me so I could prepare. He simply opened the door and in came a big man with huge hands and a predator’s gaze.

My Master stayed in the doorway, arms crossed. Watching me. The big man approached unhurriedly. He smelled of tobacco and cheap cologne. He stopped in front of me and said, “Get undressed.”

I didn’t move. I looked at my Master. He nodded once.

I got undressed.

The big man turned me around as if I were an object. He ran a finger along my back, down the hollow, to the edge of my ass. Without touching it. Just brushing the hair. And my anus blinked. It opened a millimeter. On its own, without my thinking about it. Two months of training engraved in the nervous system.

The big man let out a grunt of approval.

He put in two fingers. No saliva, no warning. Dry. And my anus opened like a trained mouth. Relaxed, without resistance. The fingers moved inside and my sphincter applied the exact pressure. Neither loose nor tight. What had been learned.

The big man pulled his fingers out and turned me around to look me in the face.

“I’ll take him for a while.”

My Master smiled from the doorway. He shook his head. “No. You’re not taking him.”

“Then why did you call me?”

“So you could see him. So you could know what I have. And so you could hear how he asks you for it without my giving him to you.”

The big man looked at me. “Ask for it.”

I swallowed. My legs were trembling inside, but I kept them steady. I looked the big man in the eyes and said out loud, clearly, without stammering: “Fuck me.”

The big man stood still. My body waited, open, ready. But my Master did not give the order. There was only one order in my head: ask for it without receiving it.

The big man took a deep breath. “Fuck. You really have trained him.”

My Master nodded from the doorway. Satisfied. “And he’s only mine.”

They didn’t fuck me. They didn’t loan me out. They exhibited me as what I am: a trained, exclusive slave, who opens his ass when ordered and asks for what he will never receive if his Master doesn’t say yes.

That was before my Master went away.

Now I am here, waiting. Not offering myself. Not lowering myself. I’m not a slut who gives himself to the first person who passes by. I am the slave a man built over months. My ass remembers his orders. My refle...