Further Bound
Title: Further Bound
Author: Deviantboi
Matches: Neville Longbottom/Seamus Finnigan.
Point of view: Third person.
Rating: NC-17 for sexual contact between adults
Disclaimer: It's all JK Rowlings, I'm only playing with them.
Sequel to "Bound Longbottom"
Warnings: It's slash. If that squicks you, why are you reading my page? It's also heavy bondage, heavy dominance and submission, and mild pain play. If that squicks you, don't read it.
Futher Bound
The apartment was small, but filled with possibility as Seamus stepped through the doorway. It had once been a servants quarters in the household of a major wizarding family, but they had all died in the war, baring the two that were now in Azkaban. The house had been purchased by Ron and Hermione, and they had been kind enough to offer Seamus and Neville an excelent deal on rent for the two bedroom apartment in the attic.
"What do you think?" Seamus asked Neville, who stood behind him slightly.
"It's excelent, Sir."
Seamus turned to his slave, and cocked his head. "You will clean it up. It's dusty up here. I'll be back in three hours."
Without a response, Seamus left. Neville surveyed the apartment quickly, then pulled the bucket of cleaning supplies into the kitchen. He filled it with water and a soap cleanser, and began scrubbing. Cleaning was a meditation for Neville by now; a way to cleanse his thoughts and his mind as well as the floors and counters of their new home. He had the kitchen clean in less time than he'd expected, and thought carefully about what he hoped to do with the new apartment. He figured Seamus would most likely want him to do most of the decorating, since astetics were Neville's forte, and Seamus would do better with other things. At least, Neville hoped he would do the decorating, or else the kitchen would end up being painted lime green or something.
Moving on to the first bedroom, Neville discovered the floor had not been washed at any point in the last century. He frowned, pulled his pants and shirt off so as not to get that awful grime on them, and set them carefully on the very clean counter in the kitchen. He then set to scrubbing the hard wood floors of the bedroom. He had to empty the bucket six times before the room was clean, but by then even the tops of the window frames had no dust. He thought, while he scrubbed, about the things they would most likely do in this room over the next few years, and could not help but smile at the ideas he came up with.
The smaller bedroom, which would certainly be Neville's, matched the first for grime, but took less time because it was half the size of the first. The ideas he had for what could take place in this room were even better than the first - punnishments would certainly be administered in his own room, and the idea of spending time chained to these walls did much more than make Neville smile. If he wasn't worried he would not be done with the cleaning on time, he certainly would have stopped his cleaning long enough to deal with his swelling erection.
Instead he finished this room and moved on to the bathroom. This room had potential to be beautiful, and luckily had not built up as much grime as the bedrooms, and therefore was cleaned quickly. This allowed Neville to spend the whole final hour of his time cleaning the living room, including removing the dirt from the front closet.
Not a moment too soon, Seamus arrived, finding the cleaning supplies properly stashed under the kitchen sink, and Neville back in his clean clothing standing in the living room.
Seamus strolled around the apartment slowly, checking each nook and crevase for dirt, while Neville put the two bags of groceries in the kitchen cupboards and cooler. Seamus grudgingly admited that he was satisfied with the state of the new apartment, and told Neville to go fetch their trunks from the back stairs. As his slave did so, Seamus hung his jacket in the front closet, and wandered into the larger bedroom. He looked around, and thought for a moment about how to lay it out. Certainly he needed to get a nice big bed for this room, and a desk too.
Neville arrived with the first trunk, and Seamus saw he was already sweating. A work out regimine was definitely in store for this young man in the up coming few weeks. Perhaps a weight set, or a treadmill needed to go on the long list of things they needed to get. Too bad their budget was so limited. Well, a used bicycle would do, and if Seamus told his slave to bike two miles a day, he'd do it.
As Neville fetched the second trunk, Seamus began to unpack the first. It contained hangers, and the small amount of clothing each of them owned. He hung their robes, jeans, slacks, and shirts in the closet in Seamus' room, and set their sweaters in a short pile on the shelf in that same closet. The trunk also contained a set of bowls and plates Seamus had found at a second-hand muggle store the previous week, and a box of silverware he'd accumultaed over the course of a few years from Hogwarts and home. Few of the peices matched, but they would all work well. He put these things in the kitchen as Neville returned with the second trunk.
This contained sheets, two blankets, and their toiletries and underwear. When this was unpacked Seamus looked around.
"Well, we need a bed. Actually, we need two beds, but one will do for now. Depending on how much the bed costs, we could maybe get a table or couch too." Seamus said, fishing Neville's wand from his pocket, and handing it to him.
"Where should I meet you, Sir?"
"We'll take Ron and Hermione's fireplace to Diagon Alley and walk from there. Come on."
Once they'd returned to the apartment, Seamus went into the kitchen, while Neville set up the bed and put sheets on it. When he sat down for a moment, he realized they'd gotten a good one - this bed was very soft and comfortable. He stood up again right away though, so Seamus wouldn't catching him slacking.
With the bed fully made, Seamus returned to the bedroom, and looked the bed over, and looked over his slave standing beside it. Neville blushed under his gaze, and looked at the shinny clean floor. Seamus walked across the room, and stood very close to his slave.
"You must be hungry, boy. You've worked so hard today." Seamus said quietly, his mouth near Neville's ear. Neville nodded slightly, realizing his stomach was quite empty.
"Well, there's a sandwhich for you in the kitchen," Seamus pulled something out of his pocket as he spoke, and reached for Neville's left hand. Metal, warm from Seamus' body heat, wrapped around Neville's wrist, and then Seamus brought that wrist behind his back. Neville obediantly placed his right hand behind him as well, and felt the other half of the handcuffs curl around that wrist. "But using your hands would be too easy."
Neville waited until the handcuffs were firmly in place, and headed slowly into the kitchen. Seamus followed, and stood in the doorway to watch. Neville paused a moment to view his situation. There was a brand new blue dog bowl on the floor, one of the heavy ceramic ones that wouldn't tip over, which was good. Inside of it was a well stacked turkey sandwhich on wheat, with tomatos and lettuce. Neville could see the knife and plate Seamus used to make it still sitting out and knew he'd be doing dishes later.
Kneeling down in front of the bowl, Neville felt Seamus' eyes on his back. This would have been a wonderfully humiliating situation even if his master were NOT staring at him as he attempted to eat his lunch. With Seamus there he was even more determined not only to eat his sandwhich, but to do his best to not spill any of it either. He leaned over, and grabbed the top peice of bread between his teeth and pulled. It came off easily, and slowly Neville chewed and swollowed, dropping the rest of the peice of bread back into the bowl. It took a long time to eat the whole sandwhich, but Neville managed not to spill even a single crumb, and he got very little of it on his face too. It was frustrating though, and as he ate he felt Seamus' eyes on him the whole time. It was hard not to give up in frustration, or cry, or even look up at his Master pleadingly. When he was done Neville sat back on his heels, stared at the finally empty bowl, and heard Seamus' quiet footsteps coming up behind him.
"I hope you understand, that is the last time you're going to eat before I do. Now stand up."
Soon the handcuffs were gone, and their removal made Neville whimper. He never wanted them to leave. The whimper was mistake though, and he recieved a firm swat on the buttocks for it.
"Now, my sandwhich. No tomato, butter on one slice."
Neville made the sandwhich, ignoring the twitching in his pants for the second time that day. His buttock stung for only a moment, and then simply ached for more attention. When the sandwhich was done, he put it on a plate and poured a glass of milk. He carried these carefully into the living room, where Seamus was lounging on a large floor pillow he must have transfigured from something. Neville knelt down carefully in front of his master, and handed Seamus his lunch.
"Good. Now do the dishes."
The afternoon was filled with chores to do, including a number of which Neville could have accomplished in half the time with simple cleaning or cooking charms. Seamus would most likely let him use his wand eventually, but for now the hard labor of doing these things himself was an important part of Neville's service. By evening, after Seamus had eaten his supper, and Neville had finnished the leftover scraps from his dog bowl, he was exausted. This sort of service was tiring, but Neville was certain he'd done a good job that day, and he hoped that service would be rewarded once bedtime came.
Neville came into the larger bedroom, with his hands still firmly handcuffed from dinner. He shuffled his feet slightly in exaustion, and only looked up slightly as Seamus looked him over. Then Neville shuddered as he heard the sound of metal scissors slicing the air. Seamus set the large sheers on one pillow on the new bed, and patted the mattress with the other hand.
"Come on, boy. Over here."
Neville obeyed quickly, sitting on the bed right where Seamus' hand had been. Seamus reached under the pillow and pulled out a length of rope. He came slowly around the bed, and lifted Neville's feet slightly to pull off his shoes. Then, agonizingly slowly, Seamus wrapped the rope around his slave's ankles, and tied a firm knot. He set Neville's feet on the bed, then, and pushed him back so Neville was laying on his handcuff bound arms. This was not comfortable, but there was no way the slave could complain. The firm, but not tight, feeling around his ankles and wrists had a significant effect on the rest of Neville's body; his nerves were afire with anticipation, and his cock swelled against his jeans tightly. This effect was expected and easily observed by the young man's master, but Seamus did not feel the need to do anything about it right away. Instead, he reached for the scissors on the pillow beside his slave, and opened the blades.
"You did a wonderful job for me today, boy," Seamus began, bringing the scissors to the bottom hem of Neville's t-shirt. It had aquired some grime over the course of the day, but that was to be expected when someone spent their day cleaning, cooking, and running errands. The scissors closed on the edge of the shirt, and slowly ran upwards across Neville's belly botton, and up to his chest, and finally all of the way to the collar of his t-shirt.
"Th... thank you, Sir."
Seamus brought the scissors to the left arm of the t-shirt then, slicing across to the new cut up the front of the shirt. "I'm very impressed with your work. I hope you can keep up this sort of behavior." The scissors found their way to the other arm, and made an identical cut to the previous one.
"I will... I will do my best for you, Sir."
Neville's shirt fell back onto the bed, cut fully from his body, revealing two small erect nipples, and a slightly rounded quivering belly. Seamus' left hand, which was not holding the sheers, reached out and his index finger traced small circles around that belly botton. Neville inhaled slowly and deeply, preventing any squeeks from excaping his lips. One blade of the scissors slipped under the belt-line of his jeans, but did not press to cut just yet.
"You know it makes me very happy when you do these good things for me."
"Yes Sir."
Seamus squeezed the scissors, and the top of his slave's jeans began to part, cutting jaggedly apart from the sharp metal. The scissors made their way down the left pant leg, and the room was filled with the quiet sound of the metal against denim. Neville continued to take deep breaths, trying now desperately to keep calm. The decreased presure on his genitals was a good thing - he had begun to fear he would rip the jeans himself.
"It appears you enjoy doing nice things for me too. Is that so, boy?" Seamus asked, his voice still soft and low. Neville nodded slightly, now afraid his voice would betray him if he opened his mouth. Seamus stopped cutting just before reaching the bottom cuff of his slave's left leg.
"Aren't you going to answer me?" His voice raised slightly, a carefully calculated tint of annoyance present. He knew it would not be quite enough to send Neville into tears in his extremely vulnerable state (Seamus had made that mistake enough times earlier in their relationship. Submissive head space was touchy stuff), but this voice certainly made the young man lying down start a bit, and blurt out his response.
"I do, Sir!"
Neville felt his erection falter slightly. Humiliation was a surefire turn on for him, but the idea that he was not doing something well for his Master was just the opposite. This balance of humiliation and embarasment was a thin line, but Seamus had become unbearably good at walking it.
The scissors finally sliced through the hem on Neville's jeans, and the left pant leg fell against the bed. Carefully, the scissors ran up the inside of his leg, the cool metal bringing goosebumps to the surface of his skin. They lifted just before reaching his underwear, which held his fully returned hard-on. Seamus began to start cutting the right pant leg just at the crotch of the jeans, with the edge of the scissors only millimeters from the sensitive skin of Neville's scrotum, outside of his thin boxers. Seamus saw his slave's chest rise and fall with carefully calculated breaths, as the scissors began to slowly cut away from his groin, down towards his ankle again. He relaxed slightly as his genitals were no longer in danger of being damaged. Neville knew Seamus was being agonizingly careful, and he trusted his master with his life and his safety, but he couldn't help but be glad the sharp metal was further from such sensitive skin.
"When you do nice things for me, I believe you deserve a reward, my boy."
Neville did not answer, since this had not been a question. He simply continued his careful breathing, and focused on the sensation of cool metal against his skin, and the feel of his jeans falling fully away from his body as the blades severed the final hem of his pants. Now he lay in only his maroon boxers, a visible tent created in them behind their botton, with his hands and ankles still firmly bound.
Remembering his bonds, Neville also realized his hands were both entierly asleep. This was not a nice sensation, and without anything else going on for a moment, it became downright uncomfortable. A look of concern barely crossed his brow, when Seamus set his scissors on the floor and pulled his slave back into a seated position, relieving the preasure on his hands. Quickly, one hand was freed from the handcuffs, and the sliced t-shirt was pulled away and fluttered gently to the floor. Gently Seamus pushed Neville back down onto his back, and refastened the handcuffs over his head. The slave marveled for a moment at his master's ability to read and understand his needs, and this unspoken understanding turned him on further. Now that his hands were bound in a much more comfortable fashion, Neville was glad for the handcuffs, as they prevented him from reaching out and grasping his master, pouncing on top of him and taking all of him in at once.
Neville was brought suddenly back into awareness of the sensations of his body, as Seamus leaned over and set the tip of his warm tongue against Neville's throat. Slowly the tongue traced downward, and Seamus' hand carefully went to the waist of his own slacks. As his tongue reached his slave's right nipple, he unbottoned his pants, and as his tongue traced tight wet circles, the zipper was pulled downward. The tongue kept moving, keeping his slave's nipple hard and his belly quivering, as Seamus stepped out of his pants and boxers pooling around his ankles. Finally, pulling away, Seamus pulled himself fully up onto the bed, and brought one knee over his slave's body, so he was straddling his chest.
Neville's eyes fell upon his master's hard cock, which rested warm and heavy on his chest, as Seamus reached up and pulled his polo shirt over his head and sent that to the floor to settle on top of his slave's cut shirt. Neville licked his lips slightly, in anticipation of the pleasure he knew he'd be able to give his wonderful master. Seamus lifted his cock himself, and scooted his body forward, so he held his dick right over Neville's mouth.
"Now, are you ready to do me one more good chore before you get your reward, boy?"
"Yes, Sir!"
Neville's tongue flicked quickly out of his mouth, and he leaned his head upward to pull his master's cock deeply in. Seamus leaned over, putting one hand on either side of Neville's elbows, and carefully possitioned his hips to make this easy on the young man below him. His slave did his job well, sucking at exactly the right intensity, licking the head of his cock at just the right times, and working up to finally pulling his master deeply into his throat. Neville's cock-sucking abilities had matured phenominally over the past three years, and Seamus wondered slightly if these skills would transfer over to someone with a bigger cock. Seamus would readily admit he was not particularily well hung. Quickly the wondering was driven from his mind, however, as Neville pulled back and sucked in a deep breath before pulling Seamus' full shaft deeply into his throat again.
"Oh... Oh fuck yeah, boy... very good," Seamus gasped, his stomach and groin tightening in unison. He threw his head back and breathed deeply, thinking nothing and feeling nothing but the glory of his very own slave's mouth and throat around his cock.
Soon, though, Seamus forced himself to pull back, as much as he didn't want to. He'd promised Neville a reward, and he was going to make sure his boy got what had been promised to him. It would be no good for Seamus to come before he'd gotten a chance to fuck the slave the way he liked it.
Seamus swung his leg over his slave again, and wrapped one hand around his own cock to rub it slowly while he used the other to turn Neville onto his belly. Understanding what was expected of him, the slave tucked his bound arms and legs under him, and spred his knees as much as his tied ankles would allow. Seamus reached and pulled the boxers down around his slave's knees, and reached to the floor into the pocket of his slacks to find a small bottle of lubricant. He squirted some onto his hand, and brought that hand up to Neville's asshole. He quickly prepared Neville for fucking, while simulaniously pulling gently at his own genitals, keeping his cock rock hard.
It was not long before he had three fingers deeply inside his slave, and he pulled himself up on the bed and smeared lube thickly on his own cock.
"Are you ready for your reward, boy?"
"Oh... Oh yes Sir... oh please Sir, please fuck me..." Neville begged. Seamus could hear the young man had precious little control over his own voice at this point, and he pushed his cock up against his slave's wet tight asshole. Carefully, and much to slowly for his own comfort, he pushed until he was sliding deeply into the body of his lover.
"Oh... God yes..." Seamus grunted, feeling the tight warmth of his slave around his cock. He rocked back, begining his thrusting slowly. Neville whimpered, finally letting some sound of enjoyment from his mouth. Seamus knew he'd done his best to avoid making any noise, but Neville's willpower was not perfect, and he allowed this noise to pass with no consequences. In fact, Seamus liked knowing he could still make his determined slut whimper, even if he'd never admit it.
In a few moments, Seamus sped up, thrusting his hard cock deeply inside his slave, and savoring every second of it. He reached around his lover's body, seeking and finding Neville's cock with one hand. It twitched violently at this first touch, and a second small noise escaped Neville's mouth. Neville's dick was as thick as a tree limb, and Seamus loved feeling it's heft in his hand as he pumped his own dick in and out of Neville's warm body. He began to determinedly pump his hand around his slave's cock at the same pace he fucked, and lost his thoughts in the sheer physical pleasure.
Neville's mind and body reached the crest of orgasm first, spilling significant pool of semen onto the sliced up jeans laying on the bed below him. He gasped in pleasure as his body shook with pleasure, and he felt his ass tighten frimly around his master's cock. Even as the waves of orgasm melted away, he continued to focus on the sensation of tightening himself around Seamus' dick. Now that his own reward had come, he was determined for Seamus' to follow quickly.
It did, with a distinct feeling of further fullness inside Neville's body, and a series of jerking thrusts against his butt, before Seamus slowly pulled away, and stumbled towards the closet. It only took a minute to wipe both of them down with a towel, and to remove the soaked jeans, before both young men collapsed onto the soft bed, and snuggled against each other.
After a short time Seamus reached down to the foot of the bed, and pulled the blankets up over them, and cuddled back down next to his slave, lover, and friend.
"Neville?"
"Yes, Sir?"
"Sleep well."
Author: Deviantboi
Matches: Neville Longbottom/Seamus Finnigan.
Point of view: Third person.
Rating: NC-17 for sexual contact between adults
Disclaimer: It's all JK Rowlings, I'm only playing with them.
Sequel to "Bound Longbottom"
Warnings: It's slash. If that squicks you, why are you reading my page? It's also heavy bondage, heavy dominance and submission, and mild pain play. If that squicks you, don't read it.
Futher Bound
The apartment was small, but filled with possibility as Seamus stepped through the doorway. It had once been a servants quarters in the household of a major wizarding family, but they had all died in the war, baring the two that were now in Azkaban. The house had been purchased by Ron and Hermione, and they had been kind enough to offer Seamus and Neville an excelent deal on rent for the two bedroom apartment in the attic.
"What do you think?" Seamus asked Neville, who stood behind him slightly.
"It's excelent, Sir."
Seamus turned to his slave, and cocked his head. "You will clean it up. It's dusty up here. I'll be back in three hours."
Without a response, Seamus left. Neville surveyed the apartment quickly, then pulled the bucket of cleaning supplies into the kitchen. He filled it with water and a soap cleanser, and began scrubbing. Cleaning was a meditation for Neville by now; a way to cleanse his thoughts and his mind as well as the floors and counters of their new home. He had the kitchen clean in less time than he'd expected, and thought carefully about what he hoped to do with the new apartment. He figured Seamus would most likely want him to do most of the decorating, since astetics were Neville's forte, and Seamus would do better with other things. At least, Neville hoped he would do the decorating, or else the kitchen would end up being painted lime green or something.
Moving on to the first bedroom, Neville discovered the floor had not been washed at any point in the last century. He frowned, pulled his pants and shirt off so as not to get that awful grime on them, and set them carefully on the very clean counter in the kitchen. He then set to scrubbing the hard wood floors of the bedroom. He had to empty the bucket six times before the room was clean, but by then even the tops of the window frames had no dust. He thought, while he scrubbed, about the things they would most likely do in this room over the next few years, and could not help but smile at the ideas he came up with.
The smaller bedroom, which would certainly be Neville's, matched the first for grime, but took less time because it was half the size of the first. The ideas he had for what could take place in this room were even better than the first - punnishments would certainly be administered in his own room, and the idea of spending time chained to these walls did much more than make Neville smile. If he wasn't worried he would not be done with the cleaning on time, he certainly would have stopped his cleaning long enough to deal with his swelling erection.
Instead he finished this room and moved on to the bathroom. This room had potential to be beautiful, and luckily had not built up as much grime as the bedrooms, and therefore was cleaned quickly. This allowed Neville to spend the whole final hour of his time cleaning the living room, including removing the dirt from the front closet.
Not a moment too soon, Seamus arrived, finding the cleaning supplies properly stashed under the kitchen sink, and Neville back in his clean clothing standing in the living room.
Seamus strolled around the apartment slowly, checking each nook and crevase for dirt, while Neville put the two bags of groceries in the kitchen cupboards and cooler. Seamus grudgingly admited that he was satisfied with the state of the new apartment, and told Neville to go fetch their trunks from the back stairs. As his slave did so, Seamus hung his jacket in the front closet, and wandered into the larger bedroom. He looked around, and thought for a moment about how to lay it out. Certainly he needed to get a nice big bed for this room, and a desk too.
Neville arrived with the first trunk, and Seamus saw he was already sweating. A work out regimine was definitely in store for this young man in the up coming few weeks. Perhaps a weight set, or a treadmill needed to go on the long list of things they needed to get. Too bad their budget was so limited. Well, a used bicycle would do, and if Seamus told his slave to bike two miles a day, he'd do it.
As Neville fetched the second trunk, Seamus began to unpack the first. It contained hangers, and the small amount of clothing each of them owned. He hung their robes, jeans, slacks, and shirts in the closet in Seamus' room, and set their sweaters in a short pile on the shelf in that same closet. The trunk also contained a set of bowls and plates Seamus had found at a second-hand muggle store the previous week, and a box of silverware he'd accumultaed over the course of a few years from Hogwarts and home. Few of the peices matched, but they would all work well. He put these things in the kitchen as Neville returned with the second trunk.
This contained sheets, two blankets, and their toiletries and underwear. When this was unpacked Seamus looked around.
"Well, we need a bed. Actually, we need two beds, but one will do for now. Depending on how much the bed costs, we could maybe get a table or couch too." Seamus said, fishing Neville's wand from his pocket, and handing it to him.
"Where should I meet you, Sir?"
"We'll take Ron and Hermione's fireplace to Diagon Alley and walk from there. Come on."
Once they'd returned to the apartment, Seamus went into the kitchen, while Neville set up the bed and put sheets on it. When he sat down for a moment, he realized they'd gotten a good one - this bed was very soft and comfortable. He stood up again right away though, so Seamus wouldn't catching him slacking.
With the bed fully made, Seamus returned to the bedroom, and looked the bed over, and looked over his slave standing beside it. Neville blushed under his gaze, and looked at the shinny clean floor. Seamus walked across the room, and stood very close to his slave.
"You must be hungry, boy. You've worked so hard today." Seamus said quietly, his mouth near Neville's ear. Neville nodded slightly, realizing his stomach was quite empty.
"Well, there's a sandwhich for you in the kitchen," Seamus pulled something out of his pocket as he spoke, and reached for Neville's left hand. Metal, warm from Seamus' body heat, wrapped around Neville's wrist, and then Seamus brought that wrist behind his back. Neville obediantly placed his right hand behind him as well, and felt the other half of the handcuffs curl around that wrist. "But using your hands would be too easy."
Neville waited until the handcuffs were firmly in place, and headed slowly into the kitchen. Seamus followed, and stood in the doorway to watch. Neville paused a moment to view his situation. There was a brand new blue dog bowl on the floor, one of the heavy ceramic ones that wouldn't tip over, which was good. Inside of it was a well stacked turkey sandwhich on wheat, with tomatos and lettuce. Neville could see the knife and plate Seamus used to make it still sitting out and knew he'd be doing dishes later.
Kneeling down in front of the bowl, Neville felt Seamus' eyes on his back. This would have been a wonderfully humiliating situation even if his master were NOT staring at him as he attempted to eat his lunch. With Seamus there he was even more determined not only to eat his sandwhich, but to do his best to not spill any of it either. He leaned over, and grabbed the top peice of bread between his teeth and pulled. It came off easily, and slowly Neville chewed and swollowed, dropping the rest of the peice of bread back into the bowl. It took a long time to eat the whole sandwhich, but Neville managed not to spill even a single crumb, and he got very little of it on his face too. It was frustrating though, and as he ate he felt Seamus' eyes on him the whole time. It was hard not to give up in frustration, or cry, or even look up at his Master pleadingly. When he was done Neville sat back on his heels, stared at the finally empty bowl, and heard Seamus' quiet footsteps coming up behind him.
"I hope you understand, that is the last time you're going to eat before I do. Now stand up."
Soon the handcuffs were gone, and their removal made Neville whimper. He never wanted them to leave. The whimper was mistake though, and he recieved a firm swat on the buttocks for it.
"Now, my sandwhich. No tomato, butter on one slice."
Neville made the sandwhich, ignoring the twitching in his pants for the second time that day. His buttock stung for only a moment, and then simply ached for more attention. When the sandwhich was done, he put it on a plate and poured a glass of milk. He carried these carefully into the living room, where Seamus was lounging on a large floor pillow he must have transfigured from something. Neville knelt down carefully in front of his master, and handed Seamus his lunch.
"Good. Now do the dishes."
The afternoon was filled with chores to do, including a number of which Neville could have accomplished in half the time with simple cleaning or cooking charms. Seamus would most likely let him use his wand eventually, but for now the hard labor of doing these things himself was an important part of Neville's service. By evening, after Seamus had eaten his supper, and Neville had finnished the leftover scraps from his dog bowl, he was exausted. This sort of service was tiring, but Neville was certain he'd done a good job that day, and he hoped that service would be rewarded once bedtime came.
Neville came into the larger bedroom, with his hands still firmly handcuffed from dinner. He shuffled his feet slightly in exaustion, and only looked up slightly as Seamus looked him over. Then Neville shuddered as he heard the sound of metal scissors slicing the air. Seamus set the large sheers on one pillow on the new bed, and patted the mattress with the other hand.
"Come on, boy. Over here."
Neville obeyed quickly, sitting on the bed right where Seamus' hand had been. Seamus reached under the pillow and pulled out a length of rope. He came slowly around the bed, and lifted Neville's feet slightly to pull off his shoes. Then, agonizingly slowly, Seamus wrapped the rope around his slave's ankles, and tied a firm knot. He set Neville's feet on the bed, then, and pushed him back so Neville was laying on his handcuff bound arms. This was not comfortable, but there was no way the slave could complain. The firm, but not tight, feeling around his ankles and wrists had a significant effect on the rest of Neville's body; his nerves were afire with anticipation, and his cock swelled against his jeans tightly. This effect was expected and easily observed by the young man's master, but Seamus did not feel the need to do anything about it right away. Instead, he reached for the scissors on the pillow beside his slave, and opened the blades.
"You did a wonderful job for me today, boy," Seamus began, bringing the scissors to the bottom hem of Neville's t-shirt. It had aquired some grime over the course of the day, but that was to be expected when someone spent their day cleaning, cooking, and running errands. The scissors closed on the edge of the shirt, and slowly ran upwards across Neville's belly botton, and up to his chest, and finally all of the way to the collar of his t-shirt.
"Th... thank you, Sir."
Seamus brought the scissors to the left arm of the t-shirt then, slicing across to the new cut up the front of the shirt. "I'm very impressed with your work. I hope you can keep up this sort of behavior." The scissors found their way to the other arm, and made an identical cut to the previous one.
"I will... I will do my best for you, Sir."
Neville's shirt fell back onto the bed, cut fully from his body, revealing two small erect nipples, and a slightly rounded quivering belly. Seamus' left hand, which was not holding the sheers, reached out and his index finger traced small circles around that belly botton. Neville inhaled slowly and deeply, preventing any squeeks from excaping his lips. One blade of the scissors slipped under the belt-line of his jeans, but did not press to cut just yet.
"You know it makes me very happy when you do these good things for me."
"Yes Sir."
Seamus squeezed the scissors, and the top of his slave's jeans began to part, cutting jaggedly apart from the sharp metal. The scissors made their way down the left pant leg, and the room was filled with the quiet sound of the metal against denim. Neville continued to take deep breaths, trying now desperately to keep calm. The decreased presure on his genitals was a good thing - he had begun to fear he would rip the jeans himself.
"It appears you enjoy doing nice things for me too. Is that so, boy?" Seamus asked, his voice still soft and low. Neville nodded slightly, now afraid his voice would betray him if he opened his mouth. Seamus stopped cutting just before reaching the bottom cuff of his slave's left leg.
"Aren't you going to answer me?" His voice raised slightly, a carefully calculated tint of annoyance present. He knew it would not be quite enough to send Neville into tears in his extremely vulnerable state (Seamus had made that mistake enough times earlier in their relationship. Submissive head space was touchy stuff), but this voice certainly made the young man lying down start a bit, and blurt out his response.
"I do, Sir!"
Neville felt his erection falter slightly. Humiliation was a surefire turn on for him, but the idea that he was not doing something well for his Master was just the opposite. This balance of humiliation and embarasment was a thin line, but Seamus had become unbearably good at walking it.
The scissors finally sliced through the hem on Neville's jeans, and the left pant leg fell against the bed. Carefully, the scissors ran up the inside of his leg, the cool metal bringing goosebumps to the surface of his skin. They lifted just before reaching his underwear, which held his fully returned hard-on. Seamus began to start cutting the right pant leg just at the crotch of the jeans, with the edge of the scissors only millimeters from the sensitive skin of Neville's scrotum, outside of his thin boxers. Seamus saw his slave's chest rise and fall with carefully calculated breaths, as the scissors began to slowly cut away from his groin, down towards his ankle again. He relaxed slightly as his genitals were no longer in danger of being damaged. Neville knew Seamus was being agonizingly careful, and he trusted his master with his life and his safety, but he couldn't help but be glad the sharp metal was further from such sensitive skin.
"When you do nice things for me, I believe you deserve a reward, my boy."
Neville did not answer, since this had not been a question. He simply continued his careful breathing, and focused on the sensation of cool metal against his skin, and the feel of his jeans falling fully away from his body as the blades severed the final hem of his pants. Now he lay in only his maroon boxers, a visible tent created in them behind their botton, with his hands and ankles still firmly bound.
Remembering his bonds, Neville also realized his hands were both entierly asleep. This was not a nice sensation, and without anything else going on for a moment, it became downright uncomfortable. A look of concern barely crossed his brow, when Seamus set his scissors on the floor and pulled his slave back into a seated position, relieving the preasure on his hands. Quickly, one hand was freed from the handcuffs, and the sliced t-shirt was pulled away and fluttered gently to the floor. Gently Seamus pushed Neville back down onto his back, and refastened the handcuffs over his head. The slave marveled for a moment at his master's ability to read and understand his needs, and this unspoken understanding turned him on further. Now that his hands were bound in a much more comfortable fashion, Neville was glad for the handcuffs, as they prevented him from reaching out and grasping his master, pouncing on top of him and taking all of him in at once.
Neville was brought suddenly back into awareness of the sensations of his body, as Seamus leaned over and set the tip of his warm tongue against Neville's throat. Slowly the tongue traced downward, and Seamus' hand carefully went to the waist of his own slacks. As his tongue reached his slave's right nipple, he unbottoned his pants, and as his tongue traced tight wet circles, the zipper was pulled downward. The tongue kept moving, keeping his slave's nipple hard and his belly quivering, as Seamus stepped out of his pants and boxers pooling around his ankles. Finally, pulling away, Seamus pulled himself fully up onto the bed, and brought one knee over his slave's body, so he was straddling his chest.
Neville's eyes fell upon his master's hard cock, which rested warm and heavy on his chest, as Seamus reached up and pulled his polo shirt over his head and sent that to the floor to settle on top of his slave's cut shirt. Neville licked his lips slightly, in anticipation of the pleasure he knew he'd be able to give his wonderful master. Seamus lifted his cock himself, and scooted his body forward, so he held his dick right over Neville's mouth.
"Now, are you ready to do me one more good chore before you get your reward, boy?"
"Yes, Sir!"
Neville's tongue flicked quickly out of his mouth, and he leaned his head upward to pull his master's cock deeply in. Seamus leaned over, putting one hand on either side of Neville's elbows, and carefully possitioned his hips to make this easy on the young man below him. His slave did his job well, sucking at exactly the right intensity, licking the head of his cock at just the right times, and working up to finally pulling his master deeply into his throat. Neville's cock-sucking abilities had matured phenominally over the past three years, and Seamus wondered slightly if these skills would transfer over to someone with a bigger cock. Seamus would readily admit he was not particularily well hung. Quickly the wondering was driven from his mind, however, as Neville pulled back and sucked in a deep breath before pulling Seamus' full shaft deeply into his throat again.
"Oh... Oh fuck yeah, boy... very good," Seamus gasped, his stomach and groin tightening in unison. He threw his head back and breathed deeply, thinking nothing and feeling nothing but the glory of his very own slave's mouth and throat around his cock.
Soon, though, Seamus forced himself to pull back, as much as he didn't want to. He'd promised Neville a reward, and he was going to make sure his boy got what had been promised to him. It would be no good for Seamus to come before he'd gotten a chance to fuck the slave the way he liked it.
Seamus swung his leg over his slave again, and wrapped one hand around his own cock to rub it slowly while he used the other to turn Neville onto his belly. Understanding what was expected of him, the slave tucked his bound arms and legs under him, and spred his knees as much as his tied ankles would allow. Seamus reached and pulled the boxers down around his slave's knees, and reached to the floor into the pocket of his slacks to find a small bottle of lubricant. He squirted some onto his hand, and brought that hand up to Neville's asshole. He quickly prepared Neville for fucking, while simulaniously pulling gently at his own genitals, keeping his cock rock hard.
It was not long before he had three fingers deeply inside his slave, and he pulled himself up on the bed and smeared lube thickly on his own cock.
"Are you ready for your reward, boy?"
"Oh... Oh yes Sir... oh please Sir, please fuck me..." Neville begged. Seamus could hear the young man had precious little control over his own voice at this point, and he pushed his cock up against his slave's wet tight asshole. Carefully, and much to slowly for his own comfort, he pushed until he was sliding deeply into the body of his lover.
"Oh... God yes..." Seamus grunted, feeling the tight warmth of his slave around his cock. He rocked back, begining his thrusting slowly. Neville whimpered, finally letting some sound of enjoyment from his mouth. Seamus knew he'd done his best to avoid making any noise, but Neville's willpower was not perfect, and he allowed this noise to pass with no consequences. In fact, Seamus liked knowing he could still make his determined slut whimper, even if he'd never admit it.
In a few moments, Seamus sped up, thrusting his hard cock deeply inside his slave, and savoring every second of it. He reached around his lover's body, seeking and finding Neville's cock with one hand. It twitched violently at this first touch, and a second small noise escaped Neville's mouth. Neville's dick was as thick as a tree limb, and Seamus loved feeling it's heft in his hand as he pumped his own dick in and out of Neville's warm body. He began to determinedly pump his hand around his slave's cock at the same pace he fucked, and lost his thoughts in the sheer physical pleasure.
Neville's mind and body reached the crest of orgasm first, spilling significant pool of semen onto the sliced up jeans laying on the bed below him. He gasped in pleasure as his body shook with pleasure, and he felt his ass tighten frimly around his master's cock. Even as the waves of orgasm melted away, he continued to focus on the sensation of tightening himself around Seamus' dick. Now that his own reward had come, he was determined for Seamus' to follow quickly.
It did, with a distinct feeling of further fullness inside Neville's body, and a series of jerking thrusts against his butt, before Seamus slowly pulled away, and stumbled towards the closet. It only took a minute to wipe both of them down with a towel, and to remove the soaked jeans, before both young men collapsed onto the soft bed, and snuggled against each other.
After a short time Seamus reached down to the foot of the bed, and pulled the blankets up over them, and cuddled back down next to his slave, lover, and friend.
"Neville?"
"Yes, Sir?"
"Sleep well."