GBL 1/GBL 1.iso/gay_text/boytest.txt

Text File | 1992-10-15 | 55.7 KB | 996 lines

Boy's Test

by The Eagle and His boy Kelly

There I sat.  Still dressed from the bar.  Levis, work shirt, black harness
boots.  Vague ache in the back of the skull from one too many beers.  But fine.
Real fine. Relaxed.  Belly full of scrambled eggs and beer.  A good social
evening.  Lots of laughs, lots of leather.  Swat Jim on the ass and press my
hand up his crack, knowing he enjoyed it but would go home with his master to
moan, whimper and obey.

No slave in the house means silence, except for the dog's wheezing sleep next
to my chair.  And that's fine, just fine: at least for now, at least for
tonight.  Just fine.

I had opened a cold beer, dropped my jacket on the sofa and plunked myself down
in front of the computer to check my mail.  Jack said he might be able to come
down for the weekend next week.  Nice idea.  Tall slender guy with a smooth
body and tits that ignite at the slightest touch. Nice small nipples that grew
under my hand till they were like pencil erasers.  And when I flicked them with
my fingers, his whole body trembled.  His head rolled.  Blond hair flopping
across his face.  Just from the tits.  Nice.

Mark was still eager for training but didn't know if he could get away from his
wife for a few weeks yet.  "Please be patient, sir."  Well, maybe.  He showed
promise.  His chest was, had been, covered with a thick mat of dark hair.  On
my orders he snapped a picture, dishwasher and potted fern in the background,
and sent it.  Then, on the next order, shaved a wide path down the middle,
snapped it again, chintz sofa and a pile of mail behind him, and sent it off to
me.  His eyes in that one.  Intriguing.  Trying to be very cool, but narrowed
at the corners.  And his mouth.  Small, but with fine sensuous lips.  Trying to
smile and not look scared.  I smiled back at the picture, imagining what that
mouth would look like when it was very hungry, traces of spit at the corners,
and stretched wide to take my hot meat.  Hmmmm. "Patient?"  Well, for a while,
anyway.

Paul enjoyed his visit.  He hoped he could come again some time.  His ass still
ached.  His buns were still sore. If he looked over his shoulder in the mirror

he could still see traces of the belt marks on the pale skin of his ass. "Thank
you, sir, for letting me take the leather thong home with me.  I put it
on....around my slave balls some times and look in the mirror, remembering how
you tied it on...and the weights.  Oh, sir!"  Again?  Indeed.   Paul was a
first time slave.  He was visibly shaking when I opened the door to let him in.


By the time he left he knew how to say goodbye, dropping to the floor to kiss
my boots and tongue the shiny metal rings on the sides.  The only problem with
this slave, I thought, remembering the pale peach fuzz on his chest and ass as
he hung from the hook moaning and begging to be used, was that he was starting
to think he had found love.  Too fast, too much a heavy crush brought on by the
rush, by the belt and the willow cane.  And on the rebound from a failed and
not forgotten love.  Slow.  Slow, boy.  We'll see.  Your fuzzy butt is
beautiful in the candle's glow, but leather love takes ripening.

Strolling out to the kitchen, stretching and yawning, I got another beer: this
one to last, to be last, to sip and finish about the time the lights went out.
As I looked out into the yard I remembered Joel.  The corkscrew willow was
shining with slick dabs of ice.  Bits of snow in the crotches of the branches.
A whole other thing from the night Joel was here just before he left for San
Franciso.  Late.  After. Calmly and quietly, we sat under the trees in late
august. Not far from dawn.  We talked, smiled, chuckled.  He winced every once

and again when he shifted his weight from one side to the other.  Still some
sting left in those sweet olive buns.  He moved the empty bottles into patterns
on the table.

Talking.  And playing some new chess game with the bottles. Looking into my
eyes and smiling from time to time.  "You know," he'd said. "I always liked
this tree.  Funny we've never used it."  I smiled back.  "May has a floodlight
over there.  Enough candlefeet to take color movies."  He nodded, remembering
that May, my neighbor across the fence, stayed up late, got up often to feed
her dogs and then let them out and talk to them in the late night yard.  Often
as we'd sat out in the quiet night, we'd been startled by the sudden glare of
May's lights.  And her soft voice, carrying though the night air. "Henry, do
your business for mamma.  Come on baby, it's such a nice night.  I'll sit with
you for a while."

That night, with his departure known and measured against the remaining hours
of the dark sweet night of August, Joel's hand reached across the table for
mine and grasped it.  Gently, almost reverently, as was his style and the
reason we had stayed so close for so long, he lifted my hand to his face and
brushed it across his cheek.  He looked at me for permission.  I withheld it
briefly and then softened and smiled.  He kissed each finger slowly and then
murmured, "The tree.  Please, sir.  The willow.  Nothing big. Nothing
complicated.  I know it's late.  I know.  Please, sir!  Please!"


I looked at him.  His eyes were almost purple in this strange light.  Deep.  I
had already decided, but I waited, his hand pressing my fingers to his lips.
The marks of my nails on his throat.  I waited.  Watching him.

He slid quietly out of his chair and onto his knees in front of me, still
holding my hand to his lips.  Joel had a way of going snake-like at these
times...when he wanted something, something special.  Something that ignited
some place in him that he knew about like a hidden spring in a wood and that he
wanted to show me, take me to, give me.  His face found my thigh and he brushed
the rough jeans with his cheek, nuzzling and sighing softly.  "Please, sir, the
tree?"

I nodded. "Yes, boy."  He moaned and buried his face in my crotch, already
stirring, already hot.  "Thank you, sir. Oh, thank you!"

I got the rope, only rope.  Simple rope.  And sat back in my chair.  "Prepare
yourself, boy."  He smiled shyly, but his mouth trembled.  He dropped his eyes
and began to strip. His rugby sweater came off fast.  "And fold those things
neatly, boy!"  "Yes, sir."  Almost a whisper.  The rest came off slowly.
Almost a striptease, but with a vague supplication in each movement and a
quivering exhalation of breath as the night wind touched the golden skin.
Shaved smooth, his chest came into view.  A beautiful chest, not heavily

muscular, but curved, a romanesque Apollo.  Still showing the effects of our
earlier scene.  His belly moved erratically with swift, almost panting intakes
of breath. His fingers undid the buttons of his jeans and he almost shyly
half-turned away as he slid them down his smooth legs and onto the ground.  The
newly shaved skin glistened in the moonlight.  As he stood again I chuckled.
"What's the matter, sir?  Don't I please you?"  "Oh, Joel.  Those briefs. Shit.
Stars?  Do you fucking have to wear briefs with fucking stars on them?  Shit!"


He smiled at the ground.  "I'm sorry, sir.  My sister. She gave them to me.  I
feel like I have to wear them sometimes."  "Look at me, boy."  "Yes, sir."  He
slowly raised his eyes.  He couldn't decide whether he could smile or not.  We
locked eyes for several seconds and hen I laughed.  His mouth opened wide, as
though to speak, almost forming words.  "Oh, sir."  And he ran to my feet and
dropped to his knees, laughing and crying.  "I know, and my last night, sir.
I'm such a stupid slaveboy!"  He stayed there, his face down, almost crooning
for several minutes.  "Have I spoiled it, sir?  Will you still take me to the
tree?"

I lifted him to his feet and led him to the old corkscrew willow.  He extended
his arms and wrapped them tightly against the rough gnarled bark, his hands
almost touching around the big limb.  I quickly tied his hands together,
started to bind his waist to the trunk, thought better of it, and looped a rope

around each ankle, spreading his legs and binding him to the old willow.

Even in the low light I could see the remains of my earlier work.  The glowing
welts across the shoulders.  The marks of my teeth on his neck.  The bands of
red where the cuffs had held him up, dangling from the hook.  Small shiny snail
trails of dried cum tracing a path down from his small tight ass.  I stood
looking at him.  He breathed deeply and embraced the willow.  A soft hum
escaped his lips.  I was beginning to wonder if I was involved in a three-way
with an ancient botanical rival.  I stood close behind him, listening, feeling
the heat from his marks radiating.  I was almost convinced that this scene was
between Joel and some druidic spirit when his head fell back against me and he
breathed, "Oh, sir, yes.  I am yours.  Your slaveboy.  Always yours, sir."  My
arms covered his and I sunk my teeth into his neck again.  "Oh, sir.  Make me
yours again.  Please, sir.  Now.  Please, sir!"  There was urgency in his
voice. And his body began to move.  A low moan came from his lips.

I took my knife from my pocket and moved to a low branch.  I cut six long wands
from the tree and bound them together.  I could feel his eyes on me.  He
moaned, heaving his chest tight against the tree.  When I looked at him, he
dropped his eyes quickly.  I brushed the tree cat across his back.  Joel sucked
in air so fast that it caught in his throat and a sound like a sob jumped from
his mouth.  I brought the cat down on his back again and again.  "Not a sound,
boy.  Not a sound!"  "Oh, sir," he whispered, "Yes, sir.  Give it to me now.

Please, sir.  Now!"

I laid the cat deeply into the pale skin in a steady rhythm as Joel clawed the
tree, holding it, caressing it, kissing it, stopping his screams with the tough
and ancient bark.  "And now your ass, boy!"  I came close up behind him,
sliding my hands down inside the briefs.  Squeezing and torturing the buns with
my fingers.  Digging in.  Joel's voice was hoarse, low, a strong tenor with a
touch of magnolia, rough around the edges, left from his early days on the gold
coast of Mississippi.   "Oh, sir.  Oh, sir."  Over and over, pain and pleasure
sifting together in shadows of the willow.

Bang.  Lights.  May and her dog slid out of her patio door and entered our
night.  Light in my eyes. Joel's sharp intake of breath let me know how
frightened he was.  It was one thing to hang from the willow in the dark,
another to have May find us this way.   She almost had one night before when I
had bound him naked to one of the metal chairs and left him in the dark for
several hours.  Left him because... But that's another story.  Now.  Now light.


I stepped to Joel's left and leaned against the tree.  I hoped that my body
would block her sight of his body hanging tight against the willow.  I reached
for my beer from the table and lit a cigarette.  "Hi, May," I called quietly.
"Hi there!"  She thought she was whispering, but, if anybody was awake in the

next block they heard her.  She stared across the long shadows as the dog nosed
and sniffed for the perfect place.  "You're up late," se whispered.  "Yep," I
said.  Not eager for an involved conversation.  Joel gasped next to me, trying
to shrink into the tree.  I caught sight of his eyes, pleading with me.  I
turned my head slightly and said under my breath, "Silence, boy.  Now you'll be
silent!"  May absently divided her attention between her dog and her strange
neighbor standing in his yard in the dark hours of the night.

The quiet and the situation began to work on me.  Joel gasping next to me, his
back sweating even in the cool. Panic in his eyes, and May in no hurry,
deciding if she wanted a conversation with me.  My hand behind the tree, out of
her sight, found Joel's mouth and I stopped it with the flat of my palm.  He
sucked air through his nose and squirmed.  "Nice night," May offered.  Joe
pressed his face into my hand.  "Sure is, May.  Sure is.  Very nice."  "You'll
have to come over for coffee on the weekend."  "That would be great, May.  You
make great coffee."  Wet on my hand.  Joel was kissing my palm, his lips almost
suckling it, would have if it were not flat against his open panting mouth.

"You know, I have some tomato jam left.  You like that, don't you?"

"Sure do, May.  It's great."

Lips and tongue against my hand.  Wet.  I allowed my hand to slip a bit and

Joel's mouth seized my thumb between his lips and, gasping and moaning so
softly that even I could barely hear the sound, he swallowed the thumb deep
into his throat.  I let him suckle.

"I'm one of the few people who still makes it, you know."

"I know, I know.  It's great that you do."

Joel mouth working hard on my thumb suddenly abandoned it and seized the middle
finger, working it like a cock in his mouth, slow and deliberate, though the
movement of his body belied the deliberation.  He was shaking from fear and hot
from the situation, all at the same time.  My boy.

"I put aside a jar for you.  Somewhere.  Where was it?"

I slid my hand out of Joel's mouth and let it glide down  his back.  "Please,
sir," came the sound.  Like a slow rabbit  in dry grass.  I leaned my head
against the tree, pensive to  May, demanding to Joel.

"Please, sir!"

"I'll find it in the morning and bring it out."


My hand found his neck and I squeezed, hard.  He didn't make a sound, but his
body shook under my fingers.  I could feel the spine arch, push.

"Great, May.  Have it with toast.  Maybe make some biscuits."

"Oh, sir.  Yes, sir.  Yes."

"It's just fine with biscuits.  You'll like it."

Turn my hand into a claw and scrape down the welted back.  Joel trembled,
sucked the bark of the willow.  A high tenor sound from high in his forehead.

"I know it, May.  Don't I know it."

My hand on his ass now.  Those briefs.  And under them, the globes that I had
touched so often in a thousand ways. High and round.  Hard as new melons, and
sweeter.  Clenching under my hand.  Slurping sounds as his mouth bit and sucked
the gnarled bark.

"Hmmm.  Yes, and I know you like it.  That's why I save   some for you.  I like
to be a good neighbor."

My hand, on edge found his crack and knifed up and down,  pushing the cloth in.

Held tight, the hand found itself  pulled in by the clenching and opening of
Joel's buns.  He  was pulling my hand in.  Good boy.

"Yeah.  You are."

She watched the dog peeing, or trying to, once more on the fencepost.  Absent,
mostly, but occasionally peering. Thinking what?  Suspecting there was more
here, but not able to piece it out.

My hand went into my pocket and found my knife.  Trusty old Case that had
nestled there on many expeditions.  I slowly stretched my left arm up and high,
like any old stretch a man might do late on in a summer night, but the right
hand flicked the blade open and locked.  Joel herd it and shivered.  I laid the
warm blade flat against his back so he would feel it and drew it flat and easy
down to his waist.

He was swallowing hard.  Humming high in his head like a high voltage wire.
May stared for a minute and then followed the dog around the yard, examining
plants, pinching here, smelling there.

I quickly withdrew the knife, felt it's position with my fingers, adjusted it.
Then slapped it to Joel's quivering thigh, high between his legs and ran it
fast up to his groin.


As the steel slid up next to his nuts and cock, his arms grabbed the tree
suddenly tighter, like a lover returned from a long and distant trip and his
head fell back, his lower lip locked between his teeth as he drew a hissing
breath.  I lower the handle so the tip of the blade rested just behind his
balls and the sharp point pressed, barely, but importantly into the flesh.

With one quick movement, I pulled the blade up and slit the briefs up to the
elastic.  Joel's head jumped and rolled, then his face glued itself to his
shoulder, smothering the cry that pushed up from his balls.

May looked up.  "Did you say something?"  "Just breathing deep, May.  Just
breathing.  It's nice out."

Not satisfied, staying longer than she would, than she should, May found
something important to do to a rose.

Spreading the cloth with my fingers, I laid the blade across the bare skin of
Joel's hard right globe.  Holding it like an old time barber, I pulled it down
across the flesh. Then again on the other side.  Not a shave.  But a reminder
of one, of many.  Of other things.  Joel knew and heaved his chest, bit his
upper arm.


I watched May.  She fiddled with the rose and cast glances, lobbing them across
the fence.  I lit another cigarette and inhaled deeply.  My right hand was not
so languid.  I snapped the Case closed, pocketed it, and laid my hand flat
across the crack in Joel's ass, the middle finger resting a little deeper.  Not
moving.  Waiting.  Joel's shudders subsided and his mouth came just far enough
away from his arm to breathe, "Please, sir.  Please.  Touch your boy's ass."  I
applied more pressure to his crack and waited for him to respond.  He wanted me
to press.  I would make him do it.  He did.  Opening and closing his ass he
drew my finger into the hot crack.  I held still, he sought the hand, the
finger, moved until he had my finger pressed against his hole.  He pushed back,
wanting the finger.  I held fast.  I let the finger escape the hole and then
let him find it again.

I repeated the game many times.  Until Joel was writhing, pushing, then
subsiding, defeated.  Then I touched the puckered hole softly.  He jumped back
against it.  I stiffened my hand and jammed my finger into the heat of his
tight boycunt.  He sucked in air and buried his mouth on his arm again.  I held
still for a moment and then began fucking his hole with my hand.  Now one
finger, then two, then three. Joel was ready to scream.  His teeth were sunk so
far into his arm that he looked as though he were devouring his own flesh.

"Well, guess I'll go in."  May said to the roof of my house.


"Ok, May.  See you tomorrow."

But she didn't.  She moved to the porch and then turned to survey the dark
yards like a queen checking out the palace lawns for crabgrass.

In and out my hand pumped into Joel.  He opened, he flowered.  He quivered.  He
arched.  He was standing on his toes and pushing hard to take more.  "Oh, sir.
Oh, sir. Make her go now.  I want you so much, sir."

"OK.  Night, now."

And she slid into her dark kitchen and closed the door. The light went out.
Even if she looked out now, she could not see us.

I stilled my hand inside Joel's ass and came close up behind him.  He dropped
his head ack onto my shoulder.

"Oh, sir.  My god, sir.  Take me in now?  Please, sir. Make me yours again.
Now, sir.  Please, now?"

I dropped my mouth onto his and kissed him roughly. Case out.  Rope cut.  He
dropped into my arms, limp.  I picked him up and carried him into the house and
laid him on the bed, cut the briefs from him, and fucked him hard until the sun

came up.

He lives in California now, but my hands remember.  And other parts too.
Deeper than skin.  Softer than the finest calfskin.  Joel.

That tree is iced tonight.  I guess I am too, even if just a little.  Both of
us need spring.

Ahhh...time for a stretch, a scratch, a head shake and a shower.

Still damp from the shower, I punched the keys and watched the CB come up.  I
was sure most of the guys in this area had gone to bed, or been carried there,
or carried someone there.  Or driven them, or been driven.  Flickers. Names.
Handles.  Quiet talk.  Some smartass quips to drive the night away.  Double
meanings.  I sat, sipped a small glass of single malt and watched.  An
occasional message of greeting.  One or two of flirtation.  Watching, smiling.


Suddenly, "Are you a master?"

Hmmmm.

"Yes I am."


More talk.  I studied the handles and the open lines, searching for some
identity, some style.  There he was, joking, flirting, bouncy.  Funny.  Not a
trace of leather. Nothing in the handle to suggest it.  Not "Slave,"  "Male
sub," "Needsadaddy."

I smiled to myself and continued watching.  This guy was very witty.  And
bright.  Must be some thirtyish, fortyish guy with a good mind and a bad case
of insomnia. Probably has a lover who's fast asleep, leaving him to wander,
smoke, joke with the guys in the great electronic gay bar in the sky.

"I'm interested in older guys.  How old are you?"

That phrase:  "older guys."  Makes me laugh and cringe at the same time.  But
there it was, stabbing through the open lines.  Roll with it.  Even if he's a
guy who has a fantasy about being as young as he sounds.  What the hell.  I'm
immune to the nuts and open to the ones who have their feet planted.

"I'm 37, probably a little old for you."

I sat back, figuring that would be the end of it. Going to bed in a minute
anyway.  For a nice deep long sleep until the Saturday sun was high up the sky.



"I'm 19, near 20."

Sure, sure.  And I'm gonna be a Cardinal next week.

The phone rang on the other line.  I picked it up while still watching the
screen.  It was Will.  He was two hours earlier, had seen me on the line and
knew it was ok to call.  "Please, sir: I need you real bad."

Now, Will is both hot and sweet, a combination that I have trouble resisting.
He had stopped by for a weekend last October, on his way to--or from, I
forget--a business meeting nearby.  We liked each other and had good talk and
good sex.  He left with barely fading welts on his body and a satisfied look in
his blue eyes.  We talk often.

His voice in my ear was saying things that usually made me want to light a big
black candle and pull out some toys.  But tonight was different.  I watched the
lines scroll across the screen, wondering what was happening with my "boy."  He
was quiet.  Chatting?  I checked and he was on the open line.  Must be getting
a flood of messages from hawks, pseudo-hawks and priapic insomniacs.  Smile.

I was about to sign off, close down and move to the bedroom to talk with Will.



"Can I talk to you, sir?  Please, sir?"

Whoa.  What is going on here?  Something is stirring, and it's not from hot
sweet Will in my ear.

"Hey, mutt, I can't work you right now.  Call me tomorrow."  "Yes, sir.  About
nine?"  "Yeah, fine, boy. About nine.  And be sure you are clean, boy.  Clean
that ass out real well!  Do it, or you'll pay!"  Click.

I thought about why I had done that.  Nothing in the situation on the line
hinted at anything as hot as I knew Will could, would, wanted to provide.  And
I liked Will.  We had even flirted with the idea of his moving to the area. Not
said it outright.  But he let me know he'd think very seriously about it if I
did.  And I did.  After he left.  But I had done nothing to encourage it.  As
much as I liked him, it was too soon after the break-up with Tim.  Not that
that had been bitter.  It was as easy as one of those things can be.  But still
too soon.  Too much baggage still, to clear away.  Hell, Tim's extra Reboks
were still in the closet, waiting to be picked up, or to provide an excuse to
"drop by."  Way too soon.  Will was coming back in about a month. Soon enough
to deal with that, even the edges of it.

"Please, sir."


To chat or not to chat.  That is the question.  It's late.  I'm tired.  I just
turned Will down.  Why am I sitting here considering a chat with a guy with a
phony handle who wants to play little boy with a daddy who's probably several
years younger than he is.  The guy probably lives on the other side of the
continent, has a short fuse, once read a copy of Drummer and wants a simulation
of three quick belt swacks on his ass before he cums all over his keyboard then
feeds his cat and shuffles off to bed?

"OK, boy.  Get your ass over here!  Swack!   Do it now!"

Committed.  At least for a minute or two.

An hour later my hair was drenched in sweat and my heart was pounding.  If this
was fake, it was the best I'd ever seen.

It was a novice scene.  But what a novice!  And beyond that the sense that
there was a passion driving the mind beyond what the lines appearing on the
screen showed. Tits, balls, moaning, begging, licking, sucking, crying. Slow
build to a hard, rough fuck.

"Can I talk to you again, sometime, sir?  Please, sir?"


"Sure, slaveboy.  Tell you what..."

"What, sir?  Anything, sir.  Anything!"

Time for the test.

"Sit down and write me a fantasy about what you'd like to have happen.  Leave
it for me.  I'll answer and we'll arrange to meet here again some night."

That should do it, I said to myself, smiling.  One time's a lucky instinctive
accident, and who gives a fuck.  A pleasant time with a CB slave who's an
accountant by day and sits with his cat by night being a young slave with a
taste for a hot daddy master.  Bright?  Sure.  Funny too.  And with a very
developed imagination.  No problem.  That's the wonder of it.  And the ease.

"Yes, sir.  I will, sir.  You'll like it, sir"

Bet I will.  I smiled, broke and said goodnight.

As I lay in bed on the edge of sleep.  I found myself disturbed.  Something had
moved inside me.  I couldn't put my finger on it.  Something.   Hormones.  I
laughed aloud and the dog jumped up, shook his chain collar and looked at me;
settled himself and stared to snore.  "Where the whore moans, there moan I."


Three days later there was mail.  The ID was right. It was him.   I downloaded
his fantasy and read it:


.     "The Party"

Don called to say that some friends were throwing a combined birthday and
pre-christmas party on Friday night, and we were invited.  It was to be an
all-gay party, and according to Don this friend had a reputation for *wild*
parties, so I was looking forward to it with some interest. On thursday night,
as we were settling down to sleep after some enjoyable gymnastics, Don bit my
ear to get my attention and said, "Hey.  How'd you like to go to the party
tomorrow in slave rig?  You'd cause a riot"

I thought he was joking at first, but he rolled me over and lay half on top of
me and said "I'm serious, you'd enjoy it and so would everyone else.  Wouldn't
you like to be stripped by stages as the evening warms up...get fucked in front
of an audience....get filled at both ends...??"

I had to admit that the idea turned me on, but I was a bit nervous about being
vulnerable to people I didn't know. He assured me that he would make very
certain that nothing bad happened to me, and in the end I agreed.  He arranged

to come home early on Friday to get me prepared and "in the right frame of
mind...."  My imagination was already working hard on the idea, and I thought
that by the time Friday evening rolled around, my frame of mind would need very
little adjustment!

On Friday morning he wouldn't let me j/o before leaving for school, and told me
not to during the day, threatening dire punishments if I did!  He said he
wanted me on a `hair trigger' for the evening.  So when I arrived home in the
afternoon I'd been up and down like a yo-yo all day -
my concentration was shot to pieces!  As I put the bike away in the garage he
appeared at the connecting door to the house, holding the collar and waiting
for me.  He didn't say anything, just watched me as I left the helmet sitting
on the bike and got down on my hands and knees and crawled across the concrete
floor to him.  I stopped when I reached him and kissed his boots, then waited
for developments.

He crouched down in front of me and pulled my head up by the hair until it was
resting on his knee, then buckled the  collar round my neck, tight enough so
that the leather dug into my skin along the edges.  He looked at me
thoughtfully and rubbed his thumb along the edge of my jaw; I was shivering,
partly anticipation, partly excitement, partly apprehension about what was
going to happen.  He asked me if I'd ever had an enema, and I said no.
Apparently I had to be clean and empty for this party; after all, it would

never do for someone to stick their fingers up my ass and get them dirty, would
it?  So he clipped the leash onto the collar and I crawled after him through
the house to the bathroom, crawling "to heel" like a good dog.

In the bathroom he strapped leather cuffs onto my wrists and ankles and clipped
them together firmly with my arms behind my back.  Then he dropped my jeans to
my knees and pulled me over so that I was lying across his lap as he sat on the
edge of the tub.  I felt something hard and warm against my asshole, and
relaxed to let the nozzle in.  It moved inside me and he reached under me to
grip my balls as the warm water started to flow into my ass.  It felt pretty
good and I just relaxed and lay there across him enjoying it.  After a while I
guess I must have been full, as he pulled the nozzle out and replaced it with a
butt plug, squeezing my cheeks together to stop anything leaking out. He let me
lie there for a few minutes,then pulled my jeans up, swung me round and stood
me up in the tub.

The urge to shit was immediate as soon as I was upright and I clenched my ass
muscles round the plug to hold it in. I expected him to sit me on the john but
he didn't, just sat there with an expectant look on his face.  I could feel the
water starting to dribble out no matter how hard I tried to hold it in,and I
was pleading with him to at least get my pants out of the way so I wouldn't
mess in them.  He stood up and I thought he was going to help me, but instead
he backhanded me across the face, hard enough to make me yelp, and enough of a

shock that I lost hold and the plug slipped out, followed by a gush of warm
dirty water and lumps and bits of shit.

I hadn't really noticed with the effort of holding my ass closed, but the enema
had made me need to piss too, and having lost control of one hole I didn't seem
to have much of a hold over the other one either.  Hot piss followed the water
from my ass down my legs and soaked my pants, so that I was standing in a
puddle of shit and piss in the tub.  I stood there crying and calling him all
the names I could think of for making me shit myself.  That was a bad idea
since it got me another backhander across the other cheek, so I shut up and
realized that in spite of my humiliating state I was also extremely turned on.
He reached around behind me and squelched the back of my jeans against my ass.

After a few moments he began to undress me - I was still in bike jacket etc
from the ride home - removing everything including the leather collar and
cuffs, but retying my hands behind me with some rope.  Then he turned on the
shower, got undressed himself and climbed into the tub with me.  I don't think
I've ever been quite so thoroughly washed in my life.  He started at the top
and worked his way down, cleaning every part that he could reach - hair, ears,
nostrils, armpits, navel, even between my toes.  Of course he paid special
attention to my crotch, especially my ass, making me bend over and pushing his
soapy fingers far up into me, then rinsing me out with a spray bottle of clean
water.  When I was clean he made me get out, wrapped me in a towel and sat me

on the floor to wait for him.

Once he himself was washed, dried and dressed in underpants and t-shirt he
started on me again.  I was just about dry inside the towel anyway, so he
finished off the damp bits then replaced my slave collar and cuffs.  I then had
to lie face up on the floor, with a towel under my ass while he shaved my whole
pubic area very closely and carefully.  I love it when he shaves along my ass
crack and round the hole, it always makes me shiver.  When I was clean and bare
he rubbed lotion into the whole area so that I would be soft and smooth.

All the time he was doing this he kept touching my asshole; soft feather
touches that were gone as soon as I felt them and made me feel more and more
open to him, made me want to have his big cock inside me, or fingers or tongue,
something, anything to fill me, I was so hungry! Every time he did it I would
moan and try to push against him but he held me down and wouldn't let me have
it, until he used his fingers to spread lube all along my crack and up inside
my asshole, then filled me with a fat buttplug.  Even then he did it very
quickly, wouldn't let me lean into his fingers and enjoy it.  Eventually he
finished with me and pulled me up on to my feet.  He dressed me in my newest &
tightest pair of 501's with nothing underneath, t-shirt and leather bike jacket
and boots, then carried me down the stairs and dumped me in the van with my
wrists and ankles tied to wait for him.


By the time he climbed into the van and prepared to leave it had been pitch
dark in the garage for some time, as well as freezing cold, and I was feeling
very uncomfortable and slightly scared.  He came over to me and stroked my
hair, rubbing his fingers over my scalp and kissing me hard, making me
surrender all over again till I could hardly breathe and my balls were aching
with wanting him.  He knows exactly how to get to me - I find kissing intensely
exciting and he sure made the most of it. By the time we actually drove off to
the party with me lying tied up on the back seat of the van I was hot and hard
and ready - for just about anything.

When we reached Don's friend's house he parked the van, then came through to
the back where I was lying and dug in his  jacket pocket for something, I
couldn't see what it was in the darkness.  But I soon found out when he pulled
down my jeans and wrapped a sheath round my balls, pulling it tight,
intensifying the ache that was already there.  I thought that would be all, but
no, he pulled up my t-shirt and stretched out a nipple with his fingers, then
something cold and metal pressed against it, biting in as he tightened the
clamp.  The other one of the pair went on the other nipple, and gradually the
pain died away to an ache as I got used to the feeling - till he pulled my
t-shirt down and it scraped across the nipples, making me shudder again and try
to pull away from him.  He ignored the protest and refastened my jeans and
jacket, then unbound my ankles and led me out of the van and up to the door.


We were not very early arriving, so when we walked into the hall the party was
already in full swing and fairly noisy.  Don got a lot of greetings of the
"hey, where ya been?  Haven't seen you for ages!" type, it seems that I had
taken him out of circulation for the last few months - which is a rather
ego-boosting thought!  I didn't know anybody at all, so I kept close to Don and
followed him through the crowd.  It felt very strange to be among all these
people and not be able to use my hands, every so often someone would pinch my
ass or pat it and there wasn't a thing I could do about it.  It was a thought
that both scared and elated me, and I'm sure I must have been red in the face
(and probably everywhere else) with embarrassment and excitement.

At the bar Don got a drink for himself but not for me, since I couldn't hold a
glass, and we gravitated to a small group of guys around Don's age at one side
of the room. They all knew each other, and all looked at me in the same way - a
sort of anticipatory gloating leer as if they wanted to eat me up.  Every so
often Don gave me a drink from his glass, in fact more often than he drank
himself, and since he was drinking scotch which I  am not at all used to, I
soon began to feel quite relaxed and slightly lightheaded. I was still wearing
my jacket and was starting to sweat with the heat, and Don suggested that one
of the guys help me out by taking it off.

There were lots of volunteers for this job, and in the end one of them untied
my wrists and held them behind me, while another unzipped the jacket and peeled

it off.  Then someone suggested that they might as well take my shirt off now
too, since it would save untying my hands again later. Several pairs of hands
instantly grabbed my shirt and pulled it off over my head, making me gasp with
pain as it caught on the nipple clamps on the way.  The guy behind me holding
my wrists cuffed them together again firmly and pushed me into the middle of
the group, so that they could all have a good look at me as I obeyed Don's
order to turn around slowly.  Half of me wanted to run away and  hide:  the
other half wanted to get down on my knees in front of the guy with the biggest
bulge and beg to be allowed to suck him. In fact I didn't do either, I just
stood there and waited while they asked Don what sort of things I would do, and
he told them, in detail, that I liked to be knocked about and tied up and
fucked roughly, to have my mouth fucked and to lick balls and asses.....

After a while someone asked did I have a nice dick, and Don said they could
open up my pants and have a look. The one directly in front of me stepped up
real close and put his hand on my crotch, squeezing and rubbing my aching balls
and making my cock spring up to full hardness again. He undid the buttons one
by one and spread open my jeans, letting my cock poke out in front of me and
digging his hand inside to pull my balls out too.

"Hey, nice and smooth!" he said, grinning down at me and working his hand
deeper inside my pants, feeling along the crack behind my balls as he leaned
down and stick his tongue in my mouth.  I leaned into his hand and sucked on

his tongue, enjoying the feel of someone else apart from Don for the first time
in months.  Someone behind me was tugging at my jeans, pulling them down over
my ass and down my legs till they stopped at the top of my boots and I stood
there naked from the knees up.  There seemed to be hands all over me, pulling
and stroking and probing, with two fingers from two different directions
working their way up my ass.  I just closed my eyes and took whatever came, not
caring anymore who was looking or what they might think.

Hands pulled my feet up in turn and peeled off my boots and jeans, then they
pushed me over the back of a chair, pulled my legs apart and held me there.

"Give him the biggest one first" said a voice, and there was quick agreement
that the biggest one was Joey's.

"Let him see it before you give it him", said someone else, and my head was
pulled up by the hair to look at the thick hard dick being held under my nose.
I reached out a tongue to lick it but he pulled it away and dropped my head and
moved round behind me.  Hands spread my legs and my asscheeks, pulling me wide
open till I felt his big head nudging at my asshole and moaned, trying to push
up against it.  He laughed to see how much I wanted it and teased me with the
head, rubbing it against my hole and half pushing it into me, then withdrawing
again till I was begging him incoherently to please shove it in and fuck me.


And that's exactly what he did, driving it right into me on the first stroke
and keeping up a hard fast fuckstroke right from the start.  He was bigger than
Don, bigger than any guy I'd ever had, it felt as if his cock was going to go
all the way through me and come out through my mouth.  He held my thighs down
hard against the back of the chair and rammed that thick dick into me as if he
wanted to split me open - and I loved every inch, grunting at each stroke like
an animal and urging him on to give me it hard and deep, till he clutched me
tighter and leaned over me, gasping and panting as his cock jerked and spasmed
inside my hole and shot his cum deep inside me.

I didn't realize until I heard the round of applause, but the rest of the party
had almost come to a halt while everybody watched him drill me out.  He slipped
out of me and the hands pulled me upright again to look at all the curious
excited faces staring at me.

"I think we'd better adjourn to somewhere a bit more private for the rest of
this session," said Don from behind me, and the hands hustled me out of the
living room and along a corridor to a bedroom.  I heard the door lock behind us
as I was pushed face down onto the bed while they held a short whispered
discussion about exactly what they should do to me.

I lay quite still on the bed, straining my ears to hear what they were saying,
but I couldn't make out more than a few words.  Someone moved behind me and

slipped a blindfold over my eyes and tied it tightly behind my head, then
flipped me over onto my back and hauled me into the middle of the bed.  My
wrists were unclipped and my arms pulled above my head as other hands spread my
legs apart and they tied my wrists and ankles to the four corners of the bed,
pulling the bonds tight so that I was stretched apart as far as possible.  Then
they lifted my ass and pushed a thick pillow under my lower back so that my
balls were dangling between my legs, still tightly encased in the sheath, and
my ass was suspended a little above the bed.

A heavy body sat on my chest and I felt his cock touch my  cheek.  I turned my
head and stuck out my tongue to try and reach it but he grabbed my jaw and held
my head still while he rubbed his sticky dickhead across my face, wiping his
precm onto my nose and cheeks before sticking the head into my mouth and
ordering me to "Suck, boy!"  I explored his smallish dick with my tongue,
finding that he was uncut and gently tonguing under his foreskin as I sucked
him further into my mouth.

Meanwhile two guys were working on my crotch, one with his head under me
licking my ass and another sucking on my dick.  My asshole was still feeling
tender from the reaming I'd just had, but the guy licking was an expert; his
tongue flickered and probed and stroked me till I was moaning as well as I
could with my mouth full of cock, feeling my ass open up more and more as he
worked his hot tongue deeper into me.  The guy sucking my dick alternated

between fast and slow strokes, bringing me slowly closer and closer to the
edge.  My balls were aching, I needed to come so bad, my legs were shaking and
twitching I was so close, but he stopped and took his mouth away as I reached
the very brink, gripping his fist tightly round the base of my cock to keep me
from coming.

Everything seemed to hang suspended in space for a moment,the guy in my mouth
and the one on my ass holding still as I teetered there on the very edge of
coming, then slowly slipped back from the edge, whimpering and half crying with
need and frustration.

"What makes you think you deserve to come, pretty boy?" said a voice in my ear.
"You gotta get all of us off first, at least once each, probably more, then
maybe, maybe we'll let you  come.  If you're lucky."

My mouth was still full of cock so I couldn't do much except grunt in reply,
but he didn't seem to expect an answer.  The guy in my mouth moved then,
turning around to face the bottom of the bed and holding my head with both
hands.  He tipped my head back and wedged something hard between my jaws to
force my mouth wide open, then nudged his cock into my mouth again, this time
pushing it in firmly as far as it would go and beginning to fuck my throat
slowly. As he did so, hands untied my ankles and lifted them up,


They held me there and I expected to feel another cock  pushing at my asshole,
but instead I heard a swishing sound.  For a moment I couldn't work it out, but
the feel of the cane slashing across my asscheeks told me all I needed to know.
My whole body jerked with the shock and I clenched my fists round the straps
holding me.  Six hard strokes left me shaking, my ass burning with pain, then I
got what I expected before - a hard, well greased cock pressing against my
pain-tightened asshole.

It took a conscious effort to relax enough for him to get it in, then he and
the guy fucking my mouth synchronised their strokes, one going in as the other
pulled out so that it felt after a while as if there was just one cock that
passed all the way through my body.

As the strokes grew quicker and harder I felt a touch on the nipple clamps,
then someone began to pull on them alternately, in time with the cocks plunging
in and out of my mouth and my ass, sending jolts of fire through my nerves
straight to my cock.  Hands tightened on my head and I felt the cock in my
mouth begin to swell.  He pulled it out and rubbed it hard against my face,
spurting his cum onto my chin and cheeks and leaning his weight hard against my
face as he gasped in pleasure.  The guy fucking my butt was grunting as he
rammed the last few strokes into me, then collapsed across my chest, his cock
still twitching inside me as I squeezed my muscles round him.


Slowly they withdrew and I felt a tongue licking the cum off my face, then my
wrists were untied from the bed rail and fastened behind me again, and they
rolled me off the bed onto the floor.

"Somewhere in this room are a coupleof hard pricks, boy,"said a voice.  "Now
you crawl around and find 'em, and suck 'em. And make it quick!"

It's very awkward crawling with your hands tied behind you, especially when
you're blindfolded and keep bumping into things, and don't know where you're
heading anyway.  I started out trying to move quickly, as ordered, but after
I'd fallen over once and cracked my head on the corner of something I slowed
down.  Someone didn't approve of that and swatted my ass to speed me up again,
then I found a pair of legs and searched upwards with my tongue for his cock.
But when I found it it was soft, this must have been one of the guys who'd just
had me, so I kept on searching.  I could hear them laughing at me and moving
around in the room, I knew they were keeping out of the way so I couldn't find
them, and every so often one of them would push me over with his foot or give
me a whack on my back or asscheeks with a belt because I was too slow.

Eventually I tripped for the umpteenth time and landed on a pair of feet which
backed away hastily.  I scrambled forward on my knees and chest trying not to
let him getaway, then as he backed up against the wall and had to stop I knelt
upright and found his hard cock, still inside underpants.  Carefully I used my

teeth to pull down the waistband of his  briefs, working them downwards until I
could reach his cock and  his big shaved balls.  I started licking eagerly,
I've always wanted to lick a pair of really smooth balls and he smelled and
tasted wonderful.  I sucked them and licked them and rolled them around in the
sac, trying to get both in my mouth at once and not quite succeeding, until
someone pulled my head away and remarked that I was supposed to be working on
his dick, not his balls.

Reluctantly I left those gorgeous balls and started on his dick.  It felt warm
and smooth under my tongue as I licked up and down the shaft, getting him slick
and wet with my spit, then nibbling with my lips round the edge of his mushroom
head before sucking it into my mouth.  As I worked more and more of his length
into my mouth I forgot about everything else, my aching balls and nipples and
ass faded into the background till all that existed was his thick stalk
invading my mouth, the feel and the smell and taste of him. The others in the
room were quiet, all I could hear were my own soft pleasure noises and the wet
sounds as I sucked him enthusiastically.  His breathing grew quicker and louder
as he wound his fingers in my hair and pulled me harder onto his dick, fucking
my throat fiercely as his balls pulled up and pressed harder against my chin,
and he squirted his hot cum into my mouth and down my throat.  He held my head
pressed close into him, grinding my face into his crotch and jerking
spasmodically as I sucked the last few drops of cum out of him, unable to
breathe but wanting to keep him in me as long as I could.


Eventually he pulled away and I licked his cock clean, then leaned down again
to lick the sweat off his balls.  For a moment I was allowed to, then someone
pulled me round so that I faced out away from him, and he gripped my head
tightly.  The blindfold was pulled off and I faced a semicircle of stiff cocks,
only inches from my face.  I couldn't look up to see which cock belonged to who
as my head was held firmly, I just watched as a fist encircled each cock and
they began to stroke.  It was fascinating to see the differences; different
sizes, shapes, cut and uncut, different stroking techniques and speeds, some
which dribbled precum right from the start, one which only produced a few drops
until the moment of coming.  Every so often one of them would lean forward and
wipe his cock across my face, leaving a sticky smear of precum.  When they
started to come it almost took me by surprise, I was so involved in watching
the action, but one by one they leaned forward and squirted the warm sticky
stuff onto my face and hair.  Immediately after they had finished the guy
holding my head used the blindfold to wipe up a lot of the cum, then tied the
wet sticky cloth back across my eyes.

I was pulled to my feet and spun around several times till I was completely
disoriented again, then one of them picked me up, swung me over his shoulder,
and carried me across the room. When he let me down, hands grasped my legs and
spread them apart and I realized that at least one of the guys had not jacked
off in my face with the others. They lowered me onto his hard dick until I was

sitting on it facing outwards, my legs hanging down either side.

"OK boy, now fuck yourself on it" he said, and I recognised the voice as Don's.
I planted my feet firmly on either side and started to do squats on his big
cock, feeling it push into my aching rectum again and again, his hands lightly
resting on my hips to control the speed and depth. I followed the pressure of
his hands, lifting up right off him and making short bouncing movements so that
his head popped in and out of my hole, then swooping down so that the full
length drove into me and the thick base of his cock stretched my butthole
almost beyond bearing.  I kept going, his hands gripping my hips tighter and
urging me faster and his cock starting to push up into me from underneath.

Suddenly he held me still, wrapped both arms round my waist and stood up so
that my feet lifted off the ground.  Other guys hands moved me into position on
my knees and chest as he knelt on the floor behind me, not letting his cock
slip out of my asshole.  He began to move again, fucking me with quick hard
rough strokes while other hands pulled at my balls and sore nipples again, and
slapped my red-striped ass.  He came fast and hard with a short deep groan and
his fingernails digging into my hips where he was holding me.

When he pulled out they stood me upright and pulled me to the door, waited a
moment while someone checked that the bathroom was empty, then hustled me along
the hall.  My legs would hardly work and I would have fallen if they hadn't

held me up.  When we reached the bathroom they dropped me face up in the bath,
locked the door, then there was a moments silence as one of them moved  to
stand over my face.

"Open your mouth and lick, boy" said a voice, and I did so, finding, when I
stretched out my tongue, an asshole poised above my face.  I licked at it and
he lowered his butt till he was  sitting firmly on my face.  The blindfold was
pulled off and as I licked and sucked at his hole I saw each of them step up
beyond  him and piss on me, the warm liquid spraying over my chest and stomach
and crotch and legs till I was lying in a pool of it.  The guy sitting on me
stood up when they had all finished and carefully pissed on my face, making
sure my hair was soaked in his piss and spraying it into my mouth.

They rolled me over then so that I was lying face down in the pool, and one of
them pushed a couple of fingers into my asshole and pulled me up onto my knees.
A fist wrapped round the head of my wet cock.

"If you want to come, boy, you gotta fuck that fist" said one of them.  I
stared to push into it and the guy with his fingers in my ass held them rigid
so that as I pushed in and out of the fist I fucked my ass on the fingers.  My
ass hurt and the piss was stinging my nipples where the clamps had bitten into
them, but I kept fucking that tight fist until I was almost ready to come - and
he let go.  Took his hand completely away so that I was fucking air and getting

nowhere.  I cried then.  I begged and pleaded for them to let me come until
they untied my hands and  made me jack off lying in the pool of piss.

After coming I lay there curled up with my eyes closed, holding my cock and
wondering what was going to happen now. I didn't think I could take much more,
but in fact I didn't have to.  They pulled me up so I was sitting up, then one
after another they gave me a long deep kiss and walked out. I was left sitting
in the bath, covered in piss and cum, looking across the room at Don.

"You need a shower, kid" he said, and climbed in with me, pulling me up to lean
against him as he closed the curtain and  set the hot water flowing over both
of us.
**********************************************
When was that?  A month ago.  Couldn't be.  Was.   There was the date.  Time
stamp, with the date staring back at me.

I sat staring at that line of stars, wondering if all of it had happened.  The
online chats.  Then the voice on the phone.  High and clear, a tenor that could
sing any of the boy parts in a Medici choir.  But not singing chants.  "Oh,

sir.  Please ram your cock up my ass.  Please sir, I want it! I want to be
yours, sir.  Ohhhhh! Give me the belt, sir. The riding crop.  The whip, sir.
All of it!!  All of it!"

And not only that voice:  a face to match.  What one of those old cardinals
cruising the canals might have given for this boy.  Dress him in a bright red
cassock with the white lace hiding a wide black collar around his pale neck.
Hiding the wide welts on his china-white globes.  Take him to Rome.  Walk, with
him trailing behind, carrying the bags, while (under the robes) his balls were
tied off and a heavy weight bounced against his thighs as he walked there
across the sunny plaza.  Secrets.

I fought down the thoughts that came along with the hot images.  Fought back
the impulse to explore deeply the breadth of feelings that had built over the
weeks.  Using. Who uses.  Owning.  Who owns?

Blood and sweat.  The  look of it and the feel of it. The taste of it.  Open a
vein in my chest with a sharp fingernail and press his mouth to it and make him
drink.

When did I first think of saying, "Get your ass on a plane and get here, boy!"
When did I first hear those words in my head?  First imagine the scene at the
airport, in the car, at the house?  It took a week before the voice in my head

became my voice on the phone, saying it.  "And I want you prepared when you get
here, boy!  Clean, smooth and wearing your collar under your clothes.  You
understand me, boy??"

And the soft reply, "Yes, sir.  I understand.  I will be more than ready, sir.
I think you may be pleased.  I will call in a day or two with the times, sir.
And then, sir, I will be yours.  Completely yours, daddy."

Mine.  I wonder.

Then the phone rang.  "I will be arriving at 9 PM on Friday night, sir.  I will
be ready, sir.  I want to belong to you, sir.  I will, sir.  I will be yours.
Yours, sir."

"Good, boy.  Good."  My voice sounded hoarse.  My mind whirled, spun.  My groin
ached.

Mine.  I wonder.

"I'll be ready, boy."

I wonder.