Mastering Alex

Chapter 17
That Special Touch

"You two need to be alone," he said softly. "Michael and I will pack everything up and show ourselves out."

And a few minutes later they were gone. It already seemed like we'd spent a full evening, but it was not yet ten-thirty. I looked at Alex, my sweet wonderful boy, bound in the stocks, gagged and blindfolded. I needed one more thing and went out to the garage to find it. At first I'd forgotten where I'd left them, but there they were among the power tools. I dropped the earplugs into the palm of my hand and carried them back to my boy in the stocks.

I did not tell him what I was about to do. I simply worked them into his ears. The boy was voiceless, blind, and deaf. All he would have now is touch. The earplugs brought on a brief round of struggle as Alex jerked against the wooden frame, but again he calmed down right away. He would always be safe with me. He knew this. I gave his butt-plug an insistent tug and slowly pulled it out of him. It dropped to the wooden base with a heavy thud. I left it there.

The couch looked inviting, so I stretched out and picked up the book I'd been reading. Occasionally I'd hear a muffled sob or the creaking of the wood as he strained against the stock, but mostly Alex was silent. From my vantage I could see his backside perfectly. His growing balls were hanging down very low in his hairless sac. And he was soft again. I could just see the tip of his foreskin dangling beneath his scrotum. He moved his legs a bit. Bent over and spread wide, he was well balanced in this position, but the strain in his young thighs and calves was constant.

Thirty minutes passed. I set my book on the coffee table and approached him silently from behind. I reached beneath him and took the clamps off his nipples. The pain was furious as the blood returned to his little buds. He shouted into his gag and jerked around in the stocks. Immediately I stuck a single finger into his ass, rubbed his swollen prostate for a moment, and withdrew. Then I returned to my book. Fifteen minutes later I was back. This time I stroked his penis as it dangled between his slender legs. He was hard in seconds. I returned to my book. Another half-hour went by, and again I fingered him, in and out of his little hole quickly, just enough to give him the sensation of touch, but no pleasure. I waited another fifteen minutes and stroked his cock again. It was just going soft and I forced him to erect once more. It went on like this until long past midnight. On my random trips to the kitchen I would stop and give him a gentle spanking, just three or four swats on each cheek, but always I kept the timing of his anal and penile stimulation rigid and strict.

Finally, close to three in the morning, I turned off all the lights and went to bed, leaving Alex in the stocks, denied of all his senses now, even my touch. I suppose he still had taste, but what was that now but a rubber ball that filled his mouth. There was smell, of course, but that was only the boyish odor of his own body, mixed with sweat and leather.

I forced myself awake around five, and went back downstairs. In the dim moonlight I could see Alex' slender form bent over in the stocks. He was moaning softly. He was not asleep. I walked quietly behind him and inserted two fingers this time, swirling them around for several minutes, stretching his hole. Then I spanked him again, the slap of my hands upon his soft flesh echoing through the silent living room. If felt between his legs. He was hard. I left him and returned to bed.

Late mornings are not my habit, but I purposely slept in when the sun appeared through my bedroom windows. Around ten I finally got up and put on my jeans. When I got to the living room, Alex' head was slumped down. Blindfolded as he was, I couldn't tell if he was sleeping or resting or just exhausted. It didn't really matter. I brought him around with a few gentle slaps to the face. And then we began again. Every thirty minutes I fucked him with my finger. Every fifteen minutes later I stroked his penis. I imagined the constant forced erections were starting to become painful.

Around midday, I brought him his lunch. I moved a chair in front of him and sat down, holding his plate on my lap. I pulled out his earplugs then reached behind his head and removed his gag. He didn't say a word to me. His silence was beautiful.

"How much do you hate me right now?" I asked softly.

His unbroken voice was weak and scratchy. "A whole lot."

"And how much do you love me?"

"Even more."

I gently touched his face, running my fingers over his blindfold. He stretched his neck out as far as it would go in the stocks, desperate for my touch. "I brought you something to eat. Open your mouth."

Alex obeyed me, and I leisurely fed the boy his fruit and cheese. He drank some soda from a straw. When he was finished, I plugged his ears and gagged him again, and his afternoon was much the same as his morning. He was beginning to anticipate when he'd feel my finger in his ass, or my hand upon his penis. Touch was all he had, and it was becoming electrifying for both of us.

In between my regular trips to the stocks, I set things up in his room for the evening. He would never, ever, forget this day, or this night. I fed him a light supper, then removed him from the stocks. I gave him back his hearing, but the gag stayed in. Standing on his own, wearing the blindfold, seemed to scare him. I held onto my boy firmly and made him take a few minutes to stretch and limber up again. His leash was still attached to his collar, and I took it in my hand.

"Down on your hands and knees."

With tired aching legs he obeyed me.

"Let's go for a walk." I gave the leash a firm tug. I could feel his muscles tense. Resistance from my submissive boy. I knew it was the blindness. "Don't be afraid, Alex. I won't let you walk into anything. You are safe with your master. This is about trust, Alex, and obedience. Show me you can do both."

I tugged again, and this time the boy crawled forward, still timid and unsure.

"That's better. Now stay close to me. Your shoulder should always be touching my leg when you're on the leash."

Alex moved closer and pressed himself against me. I could feel his slender frame trembling. "Don't be scared. Stay close. Come on."

I walked him around the living room at first, to get him used to the subtle pull of the leash. We took it slow. His confidence grew with each step. Finally I led him through the kitchen and out onto the back porch. There was only a short step down onto the grass and he managed it gracefully, never once moving away from me.

It was a damp and humid evening. The smell of rain was in the air. Once his initial fear had passed, Alex became more and more at ease, and more and more enthused, but he was also very serious, showing great self-discipline and restraint.

"Good job, Alex. Let's try it standing up now. On your feet."

This was actually more difficult for both of us, especially with his blindfold in place. I had to be careful not to knock him off balance. And Alex really had no way of judging my pace or anticipating my direction. This naturally led to some rather harsh yanks upon the leash that caused him to stagger forward. He almost fell a few times and I had to reach out to steady him.

We kept at it until the sun began to go down. He would need a great deal more training, but it was a good first day in his collar.

Back inside, we carefully navigated the steps. In the bathroom I stood him in the tub and gave him his enema, leaving him holding his water while I prepared the final touches in his room. When I returned to him, my blind and gagged boy was ready, his cock standing rigid and throbbing. I had left Alex on his honor. His belt was still downstairs. I was prepared to find him jerking his young dick, but he was just standing there with his hands behind his head, his legs spread as wide as we dared without the plug there to keep everything in. He had not touched himself.

After the boy finished his business on the toilet, I took his leash in hand and led him down the hall to his bedroom. I first removed his gag, and then there, for the first time in almost twenty-four hours, I lifted the blindfold. His young eyes were tired, he hadn't slept much.

He looked around in wonder.

In his windows, on his nightstand, at his desk, along the shelves that lined his walls, his room was lit by candles. They cast a warm, comfortable glow, and their sweet cinnamon odor filled the air. His old sheets were gone, replaced by a silken set in dark blue. I thought the color suited him, and he would love the feel of it against his skin. The ropes at the corners of the bed were gone as well, replaced by the sturdy chains Robert had given us. Soft new-age music played on his stereo, barely audible, simply a whisper of sound to complete the setting.

Alex turned around and gazed at me in amazement. I removed the leash from his collar and hugged him close.

"We're going to do something very special tonight, Alex. I want you to feel special too."

"I 3; I already do, master."

"Give me your hand, sweetheart."

His left and my right joined, and together we approached the bed. I removed his harness and let it fall to the floor. His thigh cuffs came off next. Then last his collar, just for tonight. His wrist and ankle cuffs remained. I would be needing them. His eyes were dancing. Freed of his leather, he seemed suddenly smaller and so much younger. Delicate and fragile and hairless. A child. But between his legs there stood that raging rod of flesh. He was boy and man all at once, my sweet, my gentle, my intelligent, my complicated Alex.

"Lie down."

He did.

"Spread yourself."

He did.

I fastened his cuffs to the chains at the four corners of the bed.

"I'm going to milk you now."

Alex stared blankly for a moment, and then his hazel eyes got big when he realized what that meant. "You're going to make me cum, right?"

"Over and over again, until you can't squeeze out another drop."

"Will it hurt?"

"Maybe just a little, toward the very end. I think it's going to be a lot like when I fucked you, only this time you'll be hard every second. Rock hard. Now put your head back."

Alex was tense and nervous. To help him relax before we started, I took the bottle of baby oil I'd placed by the nightstand and poured a small amount onto his stomach. I massaged him slowly and gently. He sighed and his breathing eased. His gorgeous eyes were sunken and ringed in dark circles. He'd slept only in fits for the last twenty-four hours. He yawned and looked at me sleepily. I worked his young body at my leisure, enjoying the soft silken warmth of the boy's hairless skin, the sturdy wiry hardness of his developing muscles. Things had gotten a little rushed these last few days. Alex had borne it all bravely, but it was time to slow down and let him enjoy it.

"This feels so nice, Steve," he said.

It actually felt good and right to hear him say my name again. We would always be Master and slave, but tonight I also wanted us to be lovers.

The boy's skin was glistening in the candlelight. He was already hard and waiting for my hands to touch him there. I gripped his shaft gently. He tensed and shivered.

"Are you ready?" I asked.

"Yes, master."

I smiled at him. "I'll need you to help me do this, Alex. When you feel like you're about to ejaculate, I want you to tell me. Will you do that?"

He nodded.

"When you feel it, I want you to tense up, down here," I put my hand on his hairless abdomen. "You are not allowed to ejaculate unless I give you permission. I will be very disappointed in you if you do. I can make this wonderful for you. Do you want your master's help?"

"Yes, sir, I do."

I pulled the only chair in the room beside his bed, then leaned in to kiss him, softly on the lips. And so we began.

There is something incredibly and simply beautiful about a boy's penis, especially when he's aroused. A symbol of fragile youth, and rugged masculinity all at once. A boy's innocence and his devilry are all summed up in that fleshy appendage between his legs.

I stroked his cock slowly, lovingly, admiring the network of tiny veins that appeared beneath the darkened skin. I rolled his foreskin up, then pulled it back, dancing my finger over his frenum. That was his special spot, and it received my special attention. Alex bucked wildly, rattling the chains that restrained him. His eyes were closed, his mouth open, his head rolled around on the pillow. He wiggled his toes and clenched his hand to fists.

"aaaahhhh. It's happening, sir!"

I didn't dare risk another stroke, not yet. I let go of his throbbing boyhood and worked my hands over his balls, kneading them gently, feeling their impressive weight. It was still a boy's scrotum in which those plump ripe nuts hung, soft and like velvet to the touch, but low and full.

"You're going to be huge," I said as I let his balls go and watched them drop between his legs again.

Alex gave me a shy smile and thrust his hips up at me, indicating he needed to be stroked again.

"Ready for more, are you?"

"Yes, master."

This time I leaned over him and took his young organ into my mouth. Alex purred like a kitten. I felt his body relax as he laid back and enjoyed it. I ran my hands up and down his outstretched legs as I sucked and licked and rolled my tongue over my boy's cock. I could actually feel him getting harder, and those slight tremors that told me he was getting close, even if his own addled brain hadn't registered it yet.

The boy sighed when I took my mouth away, but my hand was quickly around his shaft again. This time I stroked him quickly, as far up and down as his loose foreskin would let me. I confess I envied him for being whole, for having that little bit of extra flesh and extra length that had been stolen from me as an infant. Five, six, seven fast strokes. He held his breath and strained, closing his eyes tightly.

I heard him whisper to himself, "Don't cum. Don't cum. Feels too good."

Bless his heart he was doing it. My wonderful Alex was keeping himself from ejaculating. How hard that must have been for a boy his age. It was a profound gift of love and trust and total submission he was giving me. I kissed him on the cheek.

"You are so wonderful," I said.

"Is it 3; would it be okay 3; is it alright if I cry?" he sniffled. Already his adolescent emotions were turning him inside out.

Another kiss, this time on his lips. "Of course it is."

And even as the first of his tears began to fall, I took him in hand again. He'd softened a little, but soon I had him firm and throbbing. He was wet with pre-cum, it was streaming out of him slowly, glistening in the light from the candles. After a few minutes he tensed again, raising his head off the pillow, straining against the chains. I could see his abdominal muscles flexing tightly. He groaned, loudly and deeply. I stopped. His penis stood straight and hard. More clear fluid dribbled from the tip.

The spasms were getting stronger, and once this one had passed, I sucked him again. For thirty minutes we went on like this, bringing him right to the edge and then, the two of us together, pulling him back.

I stroked him more slowly now, and more firmly, squeezing his shaft and working the pre-cum out of him. I felt his penis surge suddenly against my fingers. Alex shouted in ecstasy and tugged violently against his bonds. Every muscle in his young body was taught. And then, with a low moan he laid back. Sperm began to pour out of his penis, but there were no contractions, no ejaculation, just the steady flow of the twelve-year-old boy's thin white seed.

"Mmmmmm."

I gave him no time to think about what was happening. I rubbed him again, and again I got the same reaction, and the same slow outpouring. Alex was in another world, lolling his head from side to side, back and forth, his breathing quick and erratic.

For the next hour I continued, gradually milking him. Often nothing would come out at all, but four more times I was able to coax his sperm out of his balls and onto his stomach. His trim, muscular belly was covered with it now. I gave it several more tries, edging him, but it seemed I'd milked him dry. I began to masturbate him intently.

"I want you to ejaculate this time," I said as I brought him closer and closer.

Finally he gave out a high-pitched cry, the same I remembered hearing from him when he was younger.

"Aaaaahh, aaaahh, aaaaaaahhhh." Three strong contractions, each eliciting a deep shout of pleasure and anguish. Alex was ejaculating, but his young body had nothing left to give. A dry cum, just like he'd had as a little boy. His penis was still hard when it was over. He went utterly limp, and his head fell to one side.

My sweet boy had actually fainted.

"Alex?" I gently stroked his cheek.

He came around instantly and gazed at me with love and devotion.

"Who's my special boy?"

"I am."

"Who will always love you?"

"You will."

"Who's your master forever?"

"You are."

At first I had serious doubts about keeping him in the cage and letting him sleep down here all alone. He was still very young, and I feared what it might do to his head. Far from traumatizing him, he said he loved it, and he did. He liked the bars all around him. This would be his third morning waking up in confinement.

Seeing it from a sadist's perspective, I naturally thought of the cage as confinement and entrapment, a form of punishment and humiliation. Alex saw things very differently. What I called entrapment, he called protection, what I called confinement, he called safety, what I called humiliation was exactly that, and he needed it once in a while, only briefly, but every bit as much as the pain I so lovingly offered.

That explained the bucket of water.

I picked it up and dumped the contents over the cage.

"Get up!" I shouted, in a tone I had spent all night practicing.

He yelped when the cold water hit him.

"I'm awake! I'm awake!" he yelled.

I reached between the bars and released his wrist cuffs. Once the door was open, he crawled out of the cage and gingerly stood up. The boy's lean body was gorgeous, dripping wet and shivering.

"May I stretch, sir?" he asked me. The devilish grin on his face told me the kid was already guessing my answer.

"A good whipping should loosen those joints," I told him. "Take your piss and get over there." I pointed to the spot in the center of the room, where the shackles were hanging down, left over from the day before. For the last two weeks I'd used the cat on him, lashing it across his back, his butt, his thighs, and his chest when he asked for it. Now it was time to try the whip.

Alex was in position, standing beneath the chains on a six-inch [15 cm] wooden platform I'd built for him. He waited obediently with his hands behind his head as I drew the long, slender lash from its place on the wall.

"Oh, wow. Are you really going to use that?"

"Sure am. Okay?"

In answer he raised his arms. I closed the shackles around his wrists and inserted the pins.

"Ready?"

"Yep."

I kicked the wooden box away.

"aauuughhh," he groaned as the weight of his entire body was suddenly transferred to his arms and shoulders. He swung for a few minutes as I slowly jerked him off. He knew not to cum. I ran my fingers playfully through his new-grown pubic hair.

"I like this," I said, as I plucked one out.

"Yeeowwch. Don't! I need those."

"For what?"

"I don't know, I just do, okay?"

"Sensitive about your cute little hairs?"

"Yes."

I put my hands on either side of his ribs and gave him a little push, sending him swinging back and forth, increasing the stress and tension on his young joints.

"Oh man that's good," he said.

I did it one more time, and then I started with the whip. I don't know how he found the strength in his lungs to scream as long and hard as he did. I've come to understand that Alex loves screaming, just for the sake of it. He's told me that it makes the pain more bearable and yet more intense all at once. I'm sure a psychologist would have a field day with my young masochist, but I knew that pain was the very best therapy for him.

The whip curled through the air again, cracking against the boy's back. Adding one more to the score of red welts already crisscrossing my thirteen-year-old's tender skin.

"Aagghh!"

Alex' latest cry echoed through our dungeon. I loved him like this. Naked. Stretched hanging from the rafters with his wrists in chains, his cute teenaged feet dangling six inches [15 cm] off the floor. Each lash of the whip set his body swinging. I watched the muscles in his back and shoulders tense in anticipation, and gave him another one, the hardest yet. He shrieked and groaned and twisted sharply.

I walked around front. His head was slumped to his chest. Alex was covered in sweat. It glistened off his tanned skin. I put the handle of the whip beneath his chin and so lifted his eyes to my own. They were red and swollen.

"Had enough?" I asked him. 'Please say yes' I thought to myself.

Alex shook his head slowly, almost defiantly, even as the tears rolled down his cheeks. His voice was weak and he spoke between sharp gasps for air. "You promised me fifty every day 3; I want the rest."

I was his master. I should have seen it coming. I should have said no, right there. He was a boy. There was only so much his young body could take. I swore an oath to protect him, even from himself if need be. But I am an addict. I have always been an addict. And my latest drug, my lifelong addiction, is the sound of Alex screaming. I unfurled the whip and walked slowly behind him again. I laid into the kid's battered and defenseless back with renewed vigor.

Five, ten, fifteen lashes, forcing hoarse ecstatic screams from the depths of the boy's soul. These were the screams he made when he had lost himself in the pain. There are times, I swear, when the boy simply loses his mind.

"Damn it, Alex! Say the word!"

"No!"

"Say it, for god's sake."

"No!"

"Please," I begged him. Yes, a master begging his slave.

"I 3; I just can't. You know that." He was sobbing. "Just whip me, sir, please!"

Now I was angry with him. That was my first mistake. I gave him five or six more, fast and hard. That was my second. He swung wildly in his chains as the blows landed in quick succession. He twisted sharply, a little too much so for his growing body to endure. I saw it happen. I actually saw his right shoulder leave its socket.

Alex howled in agony. Even for a masochist there is pain that is unbearable, pain that does not fire the brain with pleasure. Pain unneeded. Pain unwanted. Alex cried and wailed as he hung there. I threw the whip aside and quickly wrapped my arms around his waist, taking all his weight upon me.

"I've got you, Alex. Try to be calm."

He sobbed and sniffled, but did his best to compose himself. I reached up and pulled the pins in the shackles. The poor boy fell awkwardly into my arms. His eyes were tightly closed against the pain.

"Can you stand?" I asked.

Alex was wobbly on his feet, but he managed it bravely. I got him upstairs and lay him on the couch. "Close your eyes," I told him, as I draped his right arm gently across his chest. It didn't look as bad as I first feared, but I knew it was more than we could deal with. We needed help. Alex whimpered softly. "Don't move."

He managed an ironic smile. "I won't. I promise."

I picked up the phone and dialed Robert's number. Michael answered.

"Put Robert on right now, Mike," I said. "Alex is hurt."

There was silence on the other end for a moment, and then Robert picked up.

"What happened, Steven?" I could hear the menacing edge in his voice.

"I was careless and stupid," I replied. Alex looked up at me sharply and shook his head.

"Tell me everything."

I did. Alex was looking at me desperately now. Robert sighed over the phone.

"Well, I suppose it couldn't be helped. Accidents do happen. You have to be more careful with him, Steven. You know he doesn't know his own limits, or just ignores them. His safeword is meaningless if he won't say it. Can you take him to the hospital?"

"I'd rather not. He has some marks on him, and some bruises, that might be hard to explain."

Robert chuckled softly. "So you've been beating him, have you?"

"Only to excess," I replied.

"I know a doctor who can help. He fixes Michael up when things go wrong."

"Michael's not a boy," I reminded him.

"Not anymore certainly, but he was the first time I took him in. Doctor Collins is perfectly safe, and extremely discreet, I assure you. He has a boy of his own. Write down this number and call him."

I took the number down. By the exchange it looked like he was fairly close to us. I breathed a sigh for that. I didn't want my poor boy lying in pain all night. Before I could hang up, Alex asked if he could speak to Robert. I handed him the phone, and listened with wet eyes as my sweet gentle boy defended me.

"It's me, sir, it's Alex 3; this is all my fault, sir 3; yes, sir 3; I was the one who was stupid 3; Yes, I think I've learned a lesson. Don't be angry with my master, sir, please."

A little smile came to his face. He gave the phone back to me and closed his eyes again.

"That's quite a boy you have there, Steven," Robert said. "Do be more careful."

When I hung up, Alex was staring at me again.

"It really was my fault," he said. "Sometimes I just don't know when I've had too much."

I put my hand on his sweaty forehead, and told him honestly. He deserved the truth from his master, no matter how much it hurt me to say. "I knew, but I just kept going. Whether you use your safeword or not, it's my job to stop when things get out of control. Things were very out of control, weren't they?"

"Yeah, they kind of were. It's just 3; I didn't want to say it. I really didn't want you to stop. Guess we were both being stupid, huh?"

I nodded and kissed him. "I think we need a new word. One you can use to slow us down."

"That's cool. What should it be?"

"You decide. I'm going to call this doctor and find out if he can see you this afternoon."

I gave Robert's name over the phone. No questions were asked, no explanations required. I was told I could bring him right over. I got Alex dressed, just jeans and an oversized T-shirt, which went over him without causing much distress. It was a good half-hour drive. Alex had a hard time getting in the car, and he cringed in pain with each little bump in the road.

"Have you chosen our new word?" I asked, driving as slowly and gently as possible.

"Snail," he said with a soft laugh.

"That makes sense. What is it with you and insects anyway?"

"Snails aren't insects."

"Whatever. Just lay back and try to get some rest. We'll be there soon."

"I hope so," he said, then, under his breath, "this really hurts."

I reached over and squeezed his knee gently. He sighed and closed his eyes.

The sign outside the large isolated residential house read:

"I wonder what kind of medicine he practices," Alex said smartly as I helped him from the car. He was cradling his right arm.

"Leeches I'm sure. Come on, slave boy," I said good- naturedly.

"Yes, sahib."

I don't know where he picked that one up.

The door was opened by a middle-aged gentleman in a button-down shirt and khakis. He was clean-shaven, of average height and trim build. In every way he seemed the perfect image of the successful young doctor, right down to the stethoscope around his neck. However a closer look was somewhat more revealing. A rather expensive looking ring in his left ear, and just the very edges of some very extensive tattooing visible below his shirt-sleeves. He studied me first with harsh gray eyes, and then Alex. He did not say a word.

"I called," I said. "Robert recommended you to us."

His expression lightened, although I would always know him as an overtly serious man. He offered his hand to me.

"You must be Steven." His accent was faintly British. "Robert had already told me about you, even before your call. Pleasure."

"Thanks for seeing us so quickly," I said, putting my arm around Alex' waist. "There would have been complications at the hospital."

He smiled for the first time. There was then, as now, something quietly wicked about it, although I've since come to know him as one of the gentlest masters, and one of our dearest friends. He turned his sharp eyes to Alex.

"So, all bruised and welted, are you."

"Yes, sir," the boy replied with a quick nod of his head.

"Excellent. A boy needs a good thrashing once in a while. Tell me, young man, does your master here lay into you hard, or just play about?"

"Hard, sir," Alex replied. There was unabashed pride in his voice, pride that he had a strict, firm master. "Sometimes very hard."

The last of the coldness faded in the face of Alexander's charm, and Samuel Collins invited us in.

"Call me Sam," he said to me as he closed the door behind us. "And tell me what is this adorable little slave's name?"

"This is Alex." Quite without thinking I laid my hand over his shoulder. The poor boy winced and let out a soft cry. "We played a little rough today, as you can see."

"Separated shoulder, correct?"

"Looks that way."

"Quite normal. Let's get him into the examination room and we'll have a look. Sebastian!" he called sharply.

I vaguely remembered Robert telling me the good doctor kept a boy, but I was surprised to discover it was a literal description. Alex and I both stared as we met Sebastian for the first time.

The child had red hair. That was his most immediately distinctive physical feature. Not that sadly comical flaming orange some unfortunate boys are born with, but a dark, rich, ruddy hue. Shaved close on the sides and just a little spiky on the top. His eyes were of the darkest brown, deep and sensitive. He was eleven years old.

Sebastian wore a two-inch [5 cm] leather collar with spikes around his slender young neck. The boy had on tight thick black leather shorts. Built-in belts and straps at the waist and around his thighs were pulled taught and locked with brass padlocks, preventing the boy from getting out of them. He was lean and wiry, extra slender without being emaciated.

Like most redheaded boys, his skin was extremely pale, the whitest white I'd ever seen. He was almost pearlescent as he stood there at attention, panting softly after running from wherever he was at his master's summons. Unlike other reds, his face and body were almost completely free of freckles.

He wore no shirt. His little boy nipples were just tiny pink dots on his chest, and would have been nearly invisible were it not for the fact that they were pierced with one-inch [2½ cm] golden rings, joined together by a delicate silver chain. Both of the boy's ears had been pierced, and there was an identical ring in his nose, appearing to pierce his septum, though I'd later learn it was simply clasped. Five gold rings for a pale white boy. The contrast was stunning and arousing.

And, like his master, the boy was tattooed. It looked like barbed wire, black, running in a perfect single line around both of his small hard little biceps, and another one again around his narrow waist, much of that one hidden beneath his leather shorts.

I wondered what else might have been pierced and tattooed under there, but that was really none of my business. Alex' shocked expression told me he was wondering about the same thing, and perhaps a little more.

"We have guests," Samuel said sternly. "This is Master Steven and his slave Alex. Show them to the examination room. I'll be along shortly. No talking."

Little Sebastian nodded his head like a well-trained slave and led us down the nearest hallway. In his posture and demeanor he instantly reminded me of a miniature version of Michael, but there was a jump in his step and a lively impish playfulness in his eyes that spoke of a wild and wonderful personality, just barely contained by the collar around his neck.

It was an ordinary exam room in which Alex and I found ourselves, although the padded table had numerous restraints and a rather vicious set of adjustable stirrups at one end. It did slowly dawn on me that people living our lifestyle do have unique medical needs, where privacy and anonymity are paramount. For a thirteen-year-old slave and his master this was especially true.

I helped Alex off with his shirt while he and Sebastian traded shy smiles and looked one another over. There'd been no time to put Alex' chastity belt on, and so I immediately noticed the swelling in his jeans. Was there a hard little lump there in Sebastian's pants too? Hard to tell, but the little guy was certainly cute and very sexy. I thought I'd noticed a resemblance to Samuel, and wondered if he might be the doctor's own son or nephew, and how he came to be a slave.

Samuel Collins entered in his white lab coat and told Alex to hop up on the table. That took some doing with a sore shoulder.

"That will be all now, Seb," he said, giving the boy a gentle pat on his leather-clad behind. "Run along and play. I'll call you when we need you again."

"Yes, master." It was the voice of a choirboy that answered, in the same soft fading British accent of his master. A young angel in black leather. He scurried off. There was a deep fondness in Samuel's eyes as he watched him go.

"Relative of yours?" I asked conversationally. Of course it was none of my business, but when you've just met an adorable eleven-year-old boy with tattoos and piercings, you are bound to ask questions and expect a few answers.

"It's the eyes, isn't it?" he asked softly.

I nodded.

"My nephew, yes, although he does not know it. My sister's boy, may she rest. I've had him since he was four, and he knows me only as his master. I started his training when he was eight. I still have his first collar. My great experiment. Coming along rather well, don't you think."

"Alex certainly seems to think so," I said, shifting my eyes to the obvious bulge between his legs.

The doctor smiled knowingly and gave Alex a little smirk.

My boy blushed fiercely. In just a short time, Alex had come to think of his erections as something belonging entirely to me. Kept flaccid and frustrated in his belt, only his master could free him and make him hard. The psychology of my control over his penis was profound. He was a thirteen-year-old boy, and nature was certainly having its way with him, but he was learning to control himself. Alex had reached a point where he did not want to be hard, unless it was his master's hand that had worked his cock to firm erection.

At first, whenever the belt came off, his penis would shoot up instantly, but now he would remain soft, a nice long floppy boy-cock, getting close to five inches [12½ cm] now when it was warm and dangling between his hairless legs. It actually swung from side to side now when he walked, when he was not belted that is. He was still in the belt more than he was out of it, but it's meaning had changed. It still drove him crazy once in a while. I could always see it in his eyes when he was ready to explode. But, where he had first viewed it as punishment for his offending organ, it was now a constant and daily discipline that had begun to imprint itself on his mind as well as his emotions. In or out of the belt he never touched himself down there anymore. There was an intense aura of sexuality that just seemed to set his entire body aglow and never faded. His weekly milkings were becoming marathon sessions, sometimes lasting for hours. To be thirteen and so full of cum again. What man wouldn't want to go back in time, just for a day or two?

"Have a cock like a horse, do you?" Samuel asked the boy as he prepared to examine him.

Why leave him wondering, I thought.

"Strip the little colt, if you want," I said.

Alex looked at me with surprise. Dr. Sam, as we'd come to call him over the years, was only too happy to oblige. Obediently Alex returned to his feet. Had his pain been worse, I would have insisted that we get right down to business, but he was coping.

The boy's shirt was already off, and Sam began by running his fingers down Alex' chest and over his stomach. He then unbuttoned Alex' jeans and slid them down the boy's narrow, tapered waist. My boy was still semi-erect, the purple head still hanging out of his foreskin.

"How old are you, boy?" he asked, as he examined Alexander's cock and balls with more than the clinical disinterest of a physician.

"Thirteen, sir."

"Very well endowed, aren't you?"

"Runs in the family, sir," he said, glancing over at me with a wide grin.

"Brothers?" Sam asked me with a raised eyebrow.

"We are."

"Very unusual. Kinky. I like it. Parents?"

"They're dead, sir," Alex said abruptly. Samuel never asked about them again, not in front of Alex at any rate.

He gently grasped the boy's cock. "May I see how long he gets, Steven? A boy's doctor really should know these things."

I laughed and told him to go ahead. "Remember, Alex," I warned him sternly, "no cumming."

"Yes, master."

Sam had my boy hard in a matter of seconds. The first drops of pre-cum were already oozing out. He whistled in admiration at the young throbbing barely teenaged cock before him and quickly took a measuring tape from a nearby drawer.

"Almost seven inches [18 cm] , and you're really just starting to grow."

Alex moaned softly as he continued to have his dick stroked. He and Michael had messed around, but this was the first time I'd let another master play with him like this. He closed his eyes and his tongue licked out over his lips for a second.

"I 3; I 3; I'm gonna cum."

The good doctor stopped and left the thirteen-year-old hard and dripping. "Back onto the table, please," he said with cold detachment.

From there things flowed like a normal doctor's visit for a while. Sam examined Alex' shoulder and moved it around a little. It was loose, but not as bad as I'd first feared. An x-ray was taken in a separate room to make sure there was nothing broken, and to plan for resetting it. Back in the exam room, we laid him on the table, resting his head on a soft pillow. I put my hands on either side of his face and looked down into his eyes.

"Would you like me to give him something for the pain?" Samuel asked me. "This will be quick, but quite agonizing."

"Alex?"

"I want to know what it feels like."

"You heard him."

"Very well then."

Studying the x-ray one last time, Samuel quickly grabbed Alex' right arm and gave it a sharp twist. It must have hurt too badly for a scream. Alex just lay there staring up at me with his mouth agape and his eyes filling with tears. And just like that it was done. Gingerly we sat him up again. Samuel put the boy's arm in a sling and we worked the T-shirt over it.

"Keep him in the sling for a few days," he advised, "but then he should start exercising it. No rough stuff for a while."

"Yes, sir," we both said in unison.

A short time later we were in his living room. After some convincing, Alex had finally agreed to let the doctor give him some pills. He was lying on the couch with his head still swimming, half-asleep. Samuel and I sat talking and getting better acquainted while Sebastian tended to our needs, bringing us food and drink, then sitting quietly and obediently at his master's feet.

I'd politely refused Samuel's excellent vintage. It's dangerous for a man with my history to take even a single drink, and I'd had several since the summer began. While I still had the strength to stop, I decided I would. I owed myself that, and most of all I owed it to Alex. I imagined the terrible horror that our dungeon might become for him if I ever happened to be drunk when we were down there.

"How long have you been training young Alex?" Sam asked as he pressed the wineglass to his lips.

"Less than two months."

The doctor's eyes grew wide. "Really. I'd have guessed at least a year, perhaps two. Especially with those welts and bruises I saw. He's into it rather heavily, isn't he?"

"Alex is a total submissive," I replied, "and a reckless masochist. Either I hurt him, or he hurts himself. At least this way I can keep him safe, most of the time. Things got a little crazy today."

Sam nodded in understanding. "I was stunned when he refused the injection. I've seen grown men beg for them like children when they're here."

"Alex wasn't kidding. He really wanted to know how it felt. He'll be drawing a new scene on the walls of our dungeon tonight."

"A slave and an artist. My, you must have your hands full."

Alex had asked me if his friends Nathan and Ashton could spend the night. That was big, and I realized that reconciling Alex the slave and Alex the boy was going to become more and more challenging as his teen years went by. I couldn't say 'no' to him, not about things like this, not when he finally had friends his own age. We sat down and had a long talk about it.

"I'll be careful, Steve, I promise," he finally said, rubbing his right shoulder, still sore from our earlier misadventure. "Besides everyone's seen me in the collar by now. No big deal. Nate wants to get one too, but his mom won't let him."

Oh, god. The vision of blond Nathan with a collar around his slender neck nearly made me cum in my pants.

"Alright, you can have them over. You're getting older now and it's time I learned to trust you."

He hugged me fiercely.

"Oh, Alex," I called as he ran to the phone to let his buddies know the sleepover was on. "I know what happens when thirteen-year-old boys get together. I used to be one myself you know. You have permission to jerk off, if you want to."

"Nope," he said with complete seriousness. "I'll just do the sucking, if they'll let me."

And less than three hours later they were here. Nathan arrived first on his bike. Ashton was dropped of by his highly domineering and overprotective mother. The boys made a strange but very appealing trio. They were all thirteen, within a few months of each other, but each one of them was so completely different. Nathan was the biggest, a full head taller than Alex, already closing in on his adult height, his voice a soft tenor with just the hint of manhood crackling through. To truly call him a young man would not be overstating things. He had some light blond hair on his lower legs now, and some cute barely visible fuzz on his upper lip.

Ashton was a little runt. Small and lanky and still eagerly awaiting the arrival of puberty. He could have easily been mistaken for a ten-year-old. My Alex was the perfect middle between them. Seemed strange that these three should even be friends. Nathan was the athlete. Alex was the studious artist. Ashton was the trouble-making clown. But all three of them were thoughtful and sensitive and intelligent. I suspected then, and know now, that they also were all unquestionably gay.

They threw their sleeping bags and backpacks on the floor in Alex' room. I'd moved the television from my study in there for him, just for tonight. They were already planning which movies they wanted to watch, who'd play who first on the Xbox, and which went best with pizza: beer or soda.

"Soda," I said definitively as I stuck my head into the room. Remember we'd taken Alex' door off more than a month ago, and I always wondered what those two young rascals thought about that. They never asked.

"Aw, man," Nate moaned. He had clearly voted for beer. "Is your brother gonna be ragging us all night?"

Alex smiled at me and politely told me to get lost. It was wonderful, seeing him just being a kid and acting like one. I told them to come down when they were ready to order the pizza. The sounds of Alex' CD player spinning the latest Dream Theater album soon filled the second floor.

Have you ever actually watched a thirteen-year-old eat? Let alone three of them? They were like a pack of hungry carnivores. 'The pizza' was actually three pizzas since they couldn't agree on what toppings they liked. They had pooled their money to help pay for the extravaganza. Poor Ashton fished a crinkled lonely dollar out of his pocket, all he had. I quietly returned it to him when Alex and Nate weren't looking. I think I managed to get about half a slice out of the whole deal.

It really was a nice evening, a strange taste of domestic tranquility, in spite of the rambunctious young males roaming through the house. The boys did their own thing and we stayed out of each other's way for the most part. I did finally join them in Alex' room for "The Lord of the Rings."

They'd already changed for bed, so I had three nice- looking boys in boxers and nothing else to occupy my thoughts as Alex put the disc in. Nate proudly boasted to me that he'd read all three of the books, and it was clear he was quite intent on the film, his fifth time watching it he said. Ashton hadn't been allowed to see it, and wasn't quite ready for such an intense emotional experience. He started crying about halfway through. My heart melted when tough strong Nate put his arm around him and held him close. Alex sunk into me a little more deeply and all four of us were soon weeping like children.

When it was over I got them all up and we put some cheese-sticks in the oven. We all needed something warm and substantial. We sat and munched and they were soon were talking about school and cars and other boy things. I looked at Alex, and saw a joy in his hazel eyes that was absolutely vibrant. And I remembered the very different boy he had been nearly five years ago, a battered and haunted eight-year-old who wouldn't even look at me for the first six months. How much he had changed since then. I saw Alex breaking free that night, just a little, right before my eyes. It was only a first step, but the first is always the most important, isn't it?

I dropped my spoon into my cereal. My first reaction was 'That little shit, I'll kill him.' My second less visceral response was to laugh. Thirteen-year-old boys are horny little rabbits after all, and a submissive like Alex would give his ass to just about anyone he was fond of.

"Was he as good as your master?" I asked.

He gave me an evil grin.

"Did he make you cum?"

"You're the only one who's ever done that to me. Felt real good though. Nate's got a totally huge dick."

That figured. "And what was Ashton doing while you two were mating?"

"Oh, I was sucking him. He came big time. Just like I did when I was a little kid 3; he can't shoot yet. I think he came like three times. Am I good, or what?"

"The best," I replied with a laugh. "So the only one who didn't cum was you."

"Yep. Nate thought that was way cool 3; that he came twice and I didn't even do it once. He said I'd be his bitch from now on."

"He called you that?" I was ready to kill young Nathan once again.

Alex' eyes lit up. "He was laughing, Steve, geez, take a pill or something. Nate's not like that. He talks all tough, but he's, well he's just nice, you know. Kind of like you."

"Sounds like Nate and I have a few things in common."

Alex smiled. A moment later he was between my legs sucking and slurping on my cock as I leisurely ate my breakfast. I suppose he felt he had a reputation to live up to. It felt so natural having him there at my feet. Where else did a slave belong? Occasionally, when he was going too fast or too slow for my liking, I'd grab a handful of what little hair I allowed him and give him a sharp tug. Alex moaned each time and corrected his technique to suit my whim.

I was not rough with him often, but sometimes I just sensed that he needed it that way. A certain look of total surrender would come into his hazel eyes, a certain subtle relaxing of his muscles that told me it was alright to use and humiliate him in whatever way I pleased, the harder and crueler the better. Alex was a boy of extraordinary and endless humility, but he could not endure endless humiliation. And so these moments never lasted long, and they always ended predictably. Either I would grow uneasy in the dark act and pull back, or he would use his safeword. Then we would sit and discuss how that particular scene had made us both feel inside. Why I had stopped, or why he had said his word. We would use what we learned from each other later on, the next time were in the dungeon together.

Actually we talked a lot about these things, and even argued about them from time to time. Sometimes we both agreed, angry as we were with each other, that the dungeon was the last place either of us belonged, and so we'd just leave it, or not even go down. I was becoming a better master, learning to be hard and cruel while still loving him every single minute. Alex was becoming a better slave, learning to submit with his mind, his body, and his soul, but no longer losing himself in the process. Our relationship was changing, growing just as he was. It was still that of a master and a slave, but, increasingly, it was also that of a man and a young man, no longer a man and a young boy.

That particular morning, after a few minutes of using him roughly, we both agreed without words to just let it go. Alex continued his ministrations to my cock, and I simply sat back and enjoyed the sight of my beautiful boy giving me pleasure. When I came, it was incredibly strong. Then we hugged. Alex was in his belt, and I ran my hands tenderly over the metal pod that encased his young cock. I tugged playfully at the straps of his leather jock. The locks jiggled. He stood closer and spread his legs a bit more, allowing my hand to reach beneath him and finger his hole. His head was thrown back in ecstasy. Just this simple touch in his chastity was now an extremely erotic moment for him. For us both.

"Let's go downstairs," I said softly, kissing him on the cheek. "There's something new I'd like us to try today."

Alex nodded slowly. I took his hand and together we descended into the dungeon.

Once I had the boy in his harness, I put him on the X- cross facing me, and locked his wrists and ankles in position. He looked at me with love and trust in his eyes. I drew my keys and removed his belt. The pod remained, for now.

"I think a whipping to start," I whispered in his ear.

He nodded. "Kiss me first, please."

I did. Long and slow. And then I whipped him, kissing his stomach, his chest, and his legs with the stinging leather. We spent a sensual hour together this way. Every few minutes I would stop and spray him with cold water to keep him focused and make the bite of the whip a bit sharper for him.

"May I have a little on my face, sir?" he asked between gaping breaths.

I raised the spray bottle and gave him several squirts. Alex stuck out his tongue to catch the droplets.

"Do you need a drink?"

"No, sir. My mouth just gets dry sometimes."

"Must be all that shouting."

He smiled as the water dripped from his chin. I could tell he wanted more, and I gave it to him. His front was covered in angry welts by the time I'd finished. He was breathing hard and sweating. I stood back for a moment allowing the silence to return, then I unlocked the metal pod the encased his genitals and removed it. I left him there on the cross and soaped up a warm rag in the sink.

Returning to him, I caressed my hands over his beaten body. He winced and sighed at my gentle but cruel touch. Tenderly and leisurely I used the rag to clean his cock and balls, wiping a few days of fluid from under his foreskin. Alex got hard, very slowly.

I left him again for a few minutes and returned with the leather ball stretcher in one hand and a small collection of lead weights in the other. I put everything down on the nearby stool.

"Doing okay?" I asked.

The boy nodded between panting breaths. His penis was arching straight up toward his chest, eager for attention.

"I'm going to start working on your balls today," I told him.

Alex eyed me with fear and want. My junior masochist was always ready for a new experiment in pain.

I cupped his young berries in my hands and felt their rubbery mass. I kneaded them, raised them up against his body and let them fall with their own weight. Then I took the left one and rolled it between my fingers, finally squeezing it with slow, relentless pressure. Alex gasped and stared at me with blank eyes.

"They really are amazing, aren't they?" I asked him. "So soft and fragile. Tender little things. You really can crush them with your bare hands you know."

The boy looked at me in giddy terror.

"And yours have always hung so low," I continued, "even when you were a little boy. It's like you were just made for feeling pain."

As always, before we started anything new, I had him tell me his safeword. It was our protection, but it had also become his way of giving himself to his master, letting me know he was ready, and that it was alright for me to begin. Everything started with that one word, and everything ended with it, if he needed to.

He said it with conviction. I put the stretcher on him, wrapping it tightly around his scrotum, squeezing his balls downward. A smaller thin strap was used to separate them, and I pulled it tight and buckled it. I put the weights in my pocket for the moment and pulled the wooden stool into position. I sat down right in front of him. I gave the boy a few minutes to get used to having his young balls tied off. They already had a reddish tint to them.

"I'm going to hit them now," I said. "Just once. I need you to ask me. I promise I will never, ever do this to you, unless you say okay."

Alex bit his lip and stared at me. I could see the wheels turning behind his eyes. He wanted this so badly, the ultimate pain at the hands of his master. But it frightened him. In fact I'd don't think he'd ever been so scared. I didn't push him, but I didn't let him off the hook either. I expected him to tell me.

"Please hit them, sir," he said in small voice, barely a whisper.

I raised my hand and delivered a good smack to his balls, not too hard, but hard enough. Alex wailed and threw his head back. Every muscle in his lean young body was locked.

"Another?" I asked him.

"Please, sir."

"'Please, sir', what?"

"Do it again," the boy said through gritted teeth.

This time I gave both of his sweet young jewels a separate but simultaneous flick with my index fingers.

I was treated to a low, almost manly groan from my boy's throat. He bucked forward for a moment against his restraints, his natural instincts to protect himself impossible for any male of any age to contain.

"Another?"

"Yes, sir," he hissed. His eyes were already tightly closed in anticipation of my next blow, and tears were already streaming down his cheeks.

Another slap, this one considerably harder than the first. His entire body gave a spasmodic jerk. The pain must have been blinding. This time all he could manage was a high- pitched squeal.

"Another?"

Young eyes filled with anguish, he shook his head. "No more, sir, please," he begged.

He meant it. I left him to consider his new pain while I pulled the first of the weights from my pocket. The stretcher itself had drawn his balls down another half-inch [1¼ cm]. The leather strap that separated his balls had a pair of small d-rings on it, front and back side. I hooked the weights to them. A half a pound [225 g] of lead was now pulling on young Alex' testicles, eliciting a new round of moans and groans from my pubescent boy. I set the weights and his balls swinging, and sat down on the stool again.

After watching him endure the weights for a few minutes, I added two more. He had a full pound [450 g] between his legs now. He was still rock hard. I stroked his cock leisurely. He winced and wiggled, as each stroke set the weights in motion and sent a new jet of pain through his groin.

"Feels different when you're balls hurt, doesn't it, sweetie?" I asked as I continued masturbating him.

Helpless and seemingly unable to find his voice, he nodded. His cock was leaking in a steady stream now.

"Should I stop?"

"No," the thirteen-year-old whispered.

I brought him to the edge a few times over the next hour, but I did not add any more weights. We had time, years in fact, and so there was no need to rush. Alex was getting into it now, rolling his head around and licking his lips and begging me to make him cum. Beyond the virtually dry ejaculations he'd been experiencing after his weekly milking, Alex hadn't had a normal orgasm since we'd begun. This one would hardly be ordinary either, with those weights yanking on his balls, but it was time to exercise his young cock.

And so I granted his wish, stroking him to a powerful ejaculation. His sperm shot out in violent bursts, landing several feet in front of him. I can't begin to describe the wild noises the boy was making. He was crying and groaning and grunting. In that moment everything about him was sex: his eyes, his voice, the strong sweaty odor of his hairless young body.

"Kiss me! Kiss me right now!" he screamed.

I did, even as his cock softened in my hands. Then, I picked up the whip again.

Alex didn't have much left by the time we'd finished in the dungeon that day. His voice was spent from his screams, and his welts were turning to light purple bruises that would quickly fade away. His body ached from head to toe, not to mention his thoroughly punished balls. I released him from his bondage and helped him navigate the stairs. The poor kid was wobbly on his feet, and he leaned against me for support. I made him carry his chastity belt with him, but it would have been simply vicious to strap him into it with his tender young balls still hurting. I put him on the couch and let him sleep until dinner.

One thing we both quickly discovered is that time spent in the dungeon leads to big appetites for master and slave. It always remained a bit cool down there, even in the heat of summer, but the exertions did take their toll. I've known Alex to sweat off three or four pounds [1¼-1¾ kg] in a day when we're really going at it hard, and it has proven to be good exercise for me too.

I decided I wanted to do something special. Alex had just been through a very intense time, and he deserved a big, comforting meal. I got some steaks out of the freezer and fired up the grill. Corn-on-the-cob, a mandatory summer staple in our part of the country, went into the pot, and two potatoes were baking slowly in the oven. Alex appeared on the back porch just as I was turning the steaks.

"Mmm. Smells good," he said, stifling a yawn. I drew him close and let him take over, flipping the t-bones like a professional.

"How are you feeling, kiddo?"

"Good, actually," the boy replied, moving all of his joints in a cute little procession. "I'm sore, but it feels nice, like I'm all stretched out or something. The marks are almost gone, see?"

I examined his chest and stomach. He would be a bit bruised for the next few days, but he was right. The angry welts had all but faded.

"Guess I'll just have to whip you harder next time."

"Fine by me. Want me to get us some drinks?"

"Sure thing."

He was back with iced-tea for both of us a few minutes later. I'd known him to live off soda, but he said he wanted something a little more adult tonight. Actually my Alex was suddenly seeming very grown up, although he was still barely five feet [1.50 m] tall. We clinked our glasses together in a little toast, and I put my arm around his waist as the steaks sizzled. He pressed his naked body close to me and we just stood there snuggling.

"That was so wild today," he said. "God, you were hurting me so bad, but I just kept asking for it, didn't I?"

I nodded. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure. You're my master, right."

I kissed him atop his head. "Tell me about pain, Alex. Tell me what it does to you. I really don't understand. I feel like I'm missing out on something very special to you, something we can't share."

His young face grew thoughtful and serious.

"Is it too hard?" I asked. "If you can't talk about it, that's okay."

"No. It's not that. It's just really hard to explain." He looked up at me as he gave the steaks one final turn. "I don't know why it makes me so horny, it's just so strong, my whole body can feel it, just like today. I'll bet you think I like the way it feels, that it feels good to me or something, right?"

He didn't give me a chance to answer.

"Well, I'll tell you secret. Pain hurts. That's all it does 3; that's why I need it so bad. It's like 3; it's like electricity. Every time you smacked my balls today it was like a little more. Zap. See how much I can take. Zap. See how much before I have to scream. Zap. See how long before I get hard and cum all over the place!"

"But when you were little, when you were abused 3; I just can't see the difference."

"My dick didn't either," he said with a shy laugh. "Whenever he beat the shit out of me, which was almost like every day, it made me totally hard. But it just hurt inside, in here, all the time," he put his hand over his heart. "When we do things together it's so different. It still hurts. Actually, you hurt me more than he ever did."

"Alex 3; "

"No. Don't be sorry. It's good. It's real good. That's what I'm trying to say. The more you hurt me on the outside, the less it hurts on the inside, in here." Again his hand went over his precious heart. "I almost can't remember what it was like now, when he hit me with his belt all those times, or the electric cord, or when he tied that string around my dick and yanked me around the living room in front of everybody 3; "

I couldn't believe the horror Alex was so casually describing. The horror he'd lived every day for three years while his older brother was off getting stoned out of his mind. "You never told me about that," I said, wiping the tears that were filling my eyes.

"I never told you anything," he said matter-of-factly. "But all that's gone now. I know you love me, and that's what makes everything good. I'm your slave."

The near burning of the steaks kept me from hugging him. We took them in and got everything ready. We ate in the dinning room, which we rarely ever do. It was so strange to see him sitting there naked amongst the tablecloth, the silver, the good plates, and the fancy napkins. Strange, but sexy.

"Now let me ask you a question," Alex said.

I raised my eyebrow at him.

"Please, sir," he corrected himself.

"Fire away."

"You really do like hurting me, don't you?"

There was no point in denying something so obvious. "Yes, Alex, I do."

"Why?"

"Mostly because I know it turns you on, and that's the honest truth." It was. "But I don't do it just for you. I do it for me too. I like hearing you scream and beg, and I like knowing I'm the reason why. I like fucking you rough and hard until you can't even walk straight. I like playing with that clever little mind of yours and twisting you all around. It's about power, Alex. Power and control. I take. You give. Simple."

Anything but, however it seemed to satisfy him. "I'm hard again," he said.

We finished our meal in silence, then made love long into the night.