Chris, already on his knees, could no longer ignore the tremendous urges he felt. The last bulwark of his self-esteem had been battered down all too easily. He dove forward, prostrating before his God. He buried his nose deep into the fabric of his stepfather's cotton boxer shorts. The rancid smell of Matt's thick, masculine cock washed over him, and he let it. In his mind, now, there was Matt, and there was nothing else. Even he owed his continued existence entirely to the giant, who could crush him at a momentary whim. He existed only as Matt's property.Matt smiled. This was the way things should be. If he couldn't have a real stepson, then he could have something better: a slave. He grabbed the younger boy with his index finger and thumb, lightly enough not to damage him, but with just enough pressure for it to hurt. He lifted him toward his face, until the boy became assaulted by his tobacco-flavored breath."Not yet, Chris. I know you want my cock. You've wanted it for a while now, but you'll have to earn it."Chris had never wanted anything more badly, and it showed on his face.
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