Conor’s cute little butt buzzed as he went about the day’s chores. He was on his hands and knees, his ass in the air, his ample cheeks accentuated by the jockstrap that served as his uniform for his day-to-day duties. He leaned back for a moment, his face flushed, the rag he’d been using to shine the floor in his hands on his lap.

It was so very kind of Master to send Conor a reminder of whom he belonged to—a reminder that Master was thinking about him even at work. Conor savored the gentle thrum of the vibrator inside his boypussy until it faded. Moments like these were precious to him, intimate in a way that most people probably wouldn’t understand.

Conor’s sexual awakening was unconventional. His first porn was of a leather daddy and his chaste boy. It left an indelible mark on him that ultimately led him to where he was today.

From the moment he became sexually aware, thanks in no small part to that porn film, Conor knew that he was destined to be someone’s submissive in his future and he worked hard to realize that destiny. He made sure that he was the best boy he could be, even without a master to collar him.

Conor was so fully submissive, so dedicated to the notion of belonging to another man in his future, that by the time he turned 18, he had never touched his cock to pleasure himself. It wasn’t appropriate for a boy to please himself in that way without permission from a master, and since Conor didn’t have a master, he decided that it wouldn’t be appropriate to touch and stroke his cock at all until he entered the service of one.

Despite his self-imposed chastity, Conor was far from a pure boy as he explored his sexuality. He bought himself a set of training butt plugs and a dildo. At first he used them because he knew his future master might want to play with a soft, pliable boypussy, but he quickly became hooked to the intense sensation of being filled up from behind.

Conor learned how to masturbate using his ass, and once he learned how to cum from riding a cock, he didn’t see any reason to learn how to masturbate his cock when his future master would probably lock it away, anyway. When he entered his freshman year of university, he had already been locked for the better part of three months.

Because he was pretty, charming, and subservient, Conor had a few dominant boyfriends during his university years. The only reason he even knew how to masturbate with his cock was because one of his boyfriends insisted that he do so without coming for two straight hours.

Conor had to admit, there was something to be said for the feeling of fingers stroking insistently up and down a free erection, but his submissive self balked at the thought. He would never think of doing such a thing unless ordered again and so far, Master hadn’t expressed any interest in making him.

Realizing with a jolt that he’d inappropriately trailed off into memories, Conor returned to his chores, polishing the kitchen floor until it gleamed. As he did so, he continued his reminiscence.

Conor really thought Master was the one. Although he’d gone to a university and gotten a degree like everyone else, Conor had been filled with uncertainty about his future right out of graduation. His submissive nature definitely lent itself to becoming a part of the workforce, but he’d never found the notion particularly satisfying.

What Conor really wanted to do was make a living in the service of a good Master and while he put in a token effort at looking for more conventional jobs, he spent time on the side looking for an opportunity to have the kind of life that he’d always wanted.

A man named Darren reached out to Conor on one of his dating apps and piqued his interest. Darren had initially come off as a bit arrogant and cocky, but Conor quickly found that he actually loved the demanding, assertive nature of his personality. One of the first things Darren told him to do was address him as Master. Conor had done so, since.

Once Conor was hooked, the chats between him and Master became more frequent. Then, Master took on a more direct role in his life as his keyholder by telling him to send his keys halfway across the country for Master to keep.

Three months after that, Conor packed up his belongings and flew across the country to be with Master. Three years later and he had no intentions of leaving. Master made him happy, and he liked to think that he made Master happy.

Conor didn’t know it until he arrived at Master’s place, but it turned out that Master was actually quite wealthy and would be able to provide the life that Conor had always dreamed about. The moment he stepped through the threshold for the first time, he stripped off out of respect for Master’s authority.

Right there, on the doorstep, Conor was told that he would be expected to be mostly nude while at home, and his heart swelled with joy. Master said that the only garment Conor would have to wear unless otherwise instructed was a jockstrap to properly support everything, but also to show off his ass and locked nub.

For three years, Conor had lived the idyllic life of a kept boy and he could not have been happier. He didn’t have to worry about all the other miscellanea that adults had to constantly keep in mind. He had no bills to be concerned with, other than maybe a debt of gratitude to Master which he strove hard to pay back every day. He didn’t have to think for his own. Master told him what to think and if Master wanted him to serve as mentally stimulating conversation, Master would always just tell him to think something that didn’t agree with Master’s opinions and they would talk through the disagreement.

---

Conor had just finished making dinner when Master came in through the door. He rushed out of the kitchen, crawling as fast as he could on his hands and knees to greet Master in the foyer.

When Conor got there, Master had just finished taking off his shoes and setting them on the shoe rack by the door. Conor crawled forward and kissed the big toe on both of Master’s feet and then leaned back, sitting on his feet, and looked up at Master.

"Welcome home, Master!" said Conor, with a wide smile that slowly shrank as he processed the stormy look on Master’s face. He felt an instinctive fear at the thought that he could have done something wrong, but he knew better. If he had done something wrong, he would already be bent over Master’s knee, begging for a spanking.

No. Master’s ill mood likely had nothing to do with Conor at all, and was probably the result of something that had gone on at work. "What’s wrong, Master?" said Conor. "Is there any way that I could help?"

Master looked down at Conor and patted him on the head. "Don’t worry, pet. I’ll be alright. I just had a long day, is all." Master smiled. He tapped Conor on the cheek. "Maybe you can help me blow off a little steam this evening."

Conor sat up even straighter. His little dicklet strained in its cage and leaked pre-cum between his thighs. "I’d love to, Master!" he said. He hoped Master would fuck him. Master’s cock always felt amazing inside of him, but more importantly, fucking always worked up an appetite for Master, and it would mean that Master would enjoy the dinner Conor had cooked even more.

"Why don’t you get it out, pet?" said Master. Conor crept forward, keeping his hands on his knees. He leaned up a little bit and undid the clasp of Master’s dress pants with his teeth, biting the fly and pulling it down soon after.

Pressing a kiss to the skin just above the waistband of Master’s tight briefs, Conor pulled down with his mouth to release Master’s ample cock. He salivated at the sight of it, and the musk that hit him full in the nose made his entire body flush with arousal.

Master was soft at the moment, but Conor knew just how to take care of that. He wrapped his lips around the bulbous head and swirled his tongue around the sensitive glans. He suckled on it gently, slowly coaxing it to hardness as he worked it deeper into his mouth and then his throat.

It didn’t take long for Master to be fully hard thanks to Conor’s expert ministrations. "Ahh, your mouth is so fucking good, pet," Master groaned. "Just what I needed after the shitshow today," he said.

Master threaded his fingers through Conor’s hair. Conor didn’t slow his pace or alter the way that he was choking down Master’s cock until he felt Master’s grip tighten in his hair. He stopped, knowing what was coming next as Master rolled his hips with increasing speed and ferocity.

Tears welled at the corners of Conor’s eyes as Master brutally fucked his face. Over and over and over again his nose was mashed into Master’s sweaty, musky bush. His throat spasmed as he choked and gagged on Master’s cock, throat slime and spit and snot dripping from his chin every time Master pulled out of his mouth.

Master didn’t skullfuck Conor to completion. Before Conor felt the telltale swelling of Master’s cock on his tongue, Master let go of his hair and let him fall back to sit on his feet. "That should be good enough," said Master, as he reached into the pocket of his suit jacket.

Master pulled a small, flexible silver disc with a glossy black finish on the back side out of his pocket. Conor faintly recalled that it was some sort of magnet, though he couldn’t figure out why Master would have it. Master flipped the small disc a few times between his fingers before slowly bringing it closer to the side of Conor’s head.

The closer the disc got, the fuzzier Conor’s mind got. He was meaning to ask Master what the disc was for, but it was as if his train of thought had been completely derailed. His brain felt foggy and sluggish, unable to process what was going on at all.

The only thing that came through was Conor’s arousal, which he became more and more acutely aware of as the rest of his higher functions seemed to shut down. He moaned as he felt the cool touch of the silver disc against his temple, the gears in his mind grinding to a slow stop as his jaw went slack and a line of drool dribbled from the corner of his lips.

Conor felt like he was floating on a warm and fuzzy cloud of good feelings and horniness. His whole body was burning up. He needed Master so bad he couldn’t think of anything else. Couldn’t even conceive of the concept that there was anything else other than Master and Master’s pleasure.

Conor watched as Master approached him, seeing what was happening but not really processing it. His eyes focused on Master’s cock and followed it as Master walked around to his side. More drool dribbled out of his mouth as he salivated over the thick, glistening shaft. He would have reveled in the sight for all of eternity if not for Master’s hand on the top of his head forcing him to look forward.

A warm trickle of drool dribbled on top of Conor’s little nublet straining in its cage. He felt a strange pressure in the side of his head, in his ear. Something large, hot, and blunt was pushing against his earhole.

A low groan escaped Conor as Master’s cock pushed harder and harder against the side of his head. He couldn’t think, couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. But he could feel, and for some reason it felt So good as his earhole slowly stretched around the hard cock pushing in.

The sensation was intense. It was unlike anything Conor had ever felt before. Master’s cock slid into his ear. Master was fucking the side of his skull open and it felt so good. Master pulled out for a moment, but Conor’s ear didn’t close behind it, the hole staying open like whenever Master fucked him so hard it gaped his ass.

A thrill of excitement shot up Conor’s spine as Master’s cock returned. As the electric sensation surged up his spine, it exploded like fireworks of utter rapture in his head. Master’s cock was pushing deeper into his ear. It was going so so deep.

Master’s cock hit some resistance, almost like a second ring of muscle. But Master’s cock was so big and so long and so powerful that Conor knew it would punch through. The pressure in Conor’s head built and built and built until at last, there was a release.

Conor’s eyes rolled back into his head as Master’s cock shot right past the resistance that it had met and stabbed right into his brain. He moaned, a trickle of what felt like piss dribbling out of the tip of his cock.

It had been hard to think before, but with Master’s cock in his brain it became impossible. Slowly, Master pulled out of Conor’s ear and he felt a gush of fluid drip down the side of his face. It had a similar consistency to cum, from what he could feel, slightly thick and slippery.

Master shoved his cock right back into Conor’s ear without warning. More drool flooded out of Conor’s mouth as Master fucked his head. It felt so good. He didn’t know why, but it did.

A dull, stupid smile tugged at the corners of Conor’s lips as Master fucked into his head like a jackhammer. It felt so good. Master was fucking his brain. Master was turning his brain to mush. And he could feel it dripping out the side of his head. It felt So good. So, so good.

In and out. In and out. In and out. Every thrust, every slam of Master’s hips against the side of Conor’s face only made his body hotter and his head emptier. He couldn’t even remember who he was anymore, just that he was a toy being head-fucked by master. It was so, so good.

In and out. Faster and faster. Harder and harder. THe mere force of Master’s thrusts was mashing Conor’s silly, useless, goopy brains against the inside of his skull and it felt so wonderful and so amazing that his entire body was flushed with pleasure.

After a few minutes, Conor felt Master’s cock swell and pulse and throb inside of his head. It was hot. So hot. Blast after blast after blast of Master’s thick cum flooded the inside of Conor’s skull and the heat of it melted whatever was left of his brains inside his head.

Conor drooled and groaned thoughtlessly, mindlessly, as Master finally let him go. He sagged to the ground and flopped over onto his back, cum and pulped brains leaking out of his ear.

---

Darren stood over the mess that he’d made of Conor’s body. He slapped his cock a few times on his palm and whipped off most of the slime and mush that was clinging to his still rock-hard erection. He cleaned off the rest with a single, smooth stroke up the length of his shaft.

Conor’s wide-open eyes turned silver as he was watching, and a low, mechanical voice emanated from his open mouth. "CRITICAL COGNITIVE SYSTEMS FAILURE," warned the voice. "UNIT HAS SUSTAINED SIGNIFICANT INJURY TO ITS NEURAL SYSTEM AS A RESULT OF BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA FROM REPETITIVE PENETRATION OF ITS AURAL ORIFICE."

Darren grinned. He peeled the magnet attached to Conor’s temple off and pocketed it. He retrieved a thin metallic key from the same pocket just as the voice said, "PLEASE RESET THE UNIT TO BEGIN SELF-REPAIR PROTOCOL."

Kneeling down beside Conor’s head, Darren gently pushed the lobe Conor’s left ear out of the way to reveal the small pinhole at the base of the ear behind it. He inserted the thin metallic key and pushed until he heard a click. Conor’s eyes flashed bright teal.

"FULL SYSTEMS RESET INITIATED. CRITICAL NEURAL SYSTEMS DAMAGE DETECTED. BEGINNING FULL DIAGNOSTIC TO DETERMINE EXTENT OF DAMAGE AND CALCULATE MOST EFFICIENT EXECUTION OF REPAIR PROTOCOL. PLEASE ENSURE UNIT IS NOT DISTURBED UNTIL SELF-REPAIR HAS BEEN COMPLETED."

Buying the bot had proved to be the best investment that Darren had made in years. He’d gotten so much use out of "Conor" that it had easily paid for itself and then some over the years. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of having a boy that was his to change as he pleased.

While Darren had been enjoying the innocent, eager-to-serve Conor persona for a few months now, it was starting to get a little bit stale. He briefly considered going back to one of the previous personality matrices that were likely still stored somewhere in his personal server but he was having a hankering for something new.

One thing Darren would miss if he did go through with switching Conor out for another personality matrix was the food. For what it was worth, Conor was an excellent cook and put a lot of heart into his dishes, heart that couldn’t be replicated by the food fabricator.

Then again, Darren didn’t think he would mind the slightly-artificial taste of bangers and mash if he had a bratty skater-boy under the desk sucking him off out of fear of being outed. Darren rubbed his cock under the table as he sat down to enjoy the last meal he’d get from Conor for a while.

Darren was definitely in the mood for something new. Something a bit rougher and not as sickeningly domestic as his relationship with Conor had been. He was in the mood to make a closeted skater-boy miserable. Maybe he’d call him Jake.