The latest acquisition from Master Kamp was a rare prize, indeed. Clayton was a tall, statuesque slab of blonde meat that was formed by the rigors of high school football and weight training. In his past life, he was the golden boy of his town. Quarterback, prom king, envy of all men and boys.
The untrained eye would look at Clayton and assume that this boy would become top of the world. But there wasn’t a “top” bone in Clayton’s body. And only the analytical eyes of an expert like Master Kamp could see this truth.
Kamp felt Clayton quiver. He could tell that the large young man was so eager to be used. He gripped the boy’s head roughly and pushed him onto a pedestal in the center of the darkened room. The boy assumed an obedient form on all fours—Kamp was pleased to see how naturally Clayton slipped into the correct position.
Master Kamp let his hands slide over the boy’s firm butt cheeks. He measured their circumference with rough squeezes, then pushed his thumb towards Clayton’s hole. He circled it slowly then began to probe. The boy gripped the fabric of the pedestal and accepted Master’s fingering.
Kamp delivered a reaffirming swat to Clayton’s meaty rear as his low voice rumbled, “Good boy…”