Chapter 19: Boyfriends

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 . . . 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 . . . 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. 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 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 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 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 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 . . . that's why I need it so bad. It's like . . . 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 . . . 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 . . . "

"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 . . . "

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.

I woke up with Alex lying beside me, still asleep. It's a wondrous thing. Practically every day for the last three years I'd awakened this way, with my naked boy pressed against me, but I'd never lost that feeling that this was so special, the love between us so strong. The boy beside me had grown a little bit bigger each year, each month, and I smiled to myself when I realized he was now a handsome young teenager, and that one day it would be a young man waking up in my arms. I love boys, yes, but I began to sense that my love for Alex had transcended that.

You see I am simply and totally and madly in love with Alex. I loved him when he was a cuddly little four-year-old. I loved him when he was a shy, sad, skinny eight-year-old. I loved him when he was a quiet and vulnerable eleven-year- old. I loved him as the confident young teen who lay beside me that morning as the summer sun shone through the windows.

He stirred and stretched.

"Still sore?" I asked after a quick morning kiss.

Alex smiled at me. "Ready for more," he sang as he took his usual position between my legs. When he'd finished bringing me off, I had him stand at the foot of the bed while I examined the marks from yesterday.

"Put on some shorts, and a T-shirt," I told him.

"Okay."

"I'll unlock the closet for you."

He looked adorable in the blue soccer shorts and the long plain white T-shirt he'd picked out. It had been a few days since he'd worn clothes, and I often forget just how sexy he is when he's dressed. I figured the clothing rubbing against the boy's bruised and tender skin would be a subtle but constant reminder of the whip, and it was. He moved around uncomfortably the whole morning as he fixed and served my breakfast and cleaned the house. Watching him wrestle with the vacuum cleaner was priceless.

My young house-boy was hard at work in the bathrooms when the phone rang. It was Robert. Normally Michael made most of his calls for him, so I knew this had to be important.

"How is the young man's shoulder?" he asked after we'd gotten the pleasantries out of the way.

"Fine," I replied. "Dr. Collins made us feel right at home."

I heard him chuckle on the other end of the line. "And what did you think of young Sebastian?"

"I've been trying not to. I've never seen a boy with tattoos before. Alex wants one now. He hasn't asked me yet, but he's just waiting for the right moment to spring it."

"He'd look nice with one," Robert offered. "Sam can do it for you, anything you can imagine. He did Sebastian's. I was there. Very hot. He'll probably have the kid's entire body covered by the time he's eighteen."

That was a strangely erotic image.

"Maybe for his next birthday," I said. "Thirteen's still a little too young in my book . . . for something so permanent. What if Alex wants to try out for the swim team this year? Kid swims like a fish you know."

"You can always put it in a place where no one but you will ever see it."

Now there was an idea, but Robert had other things on his mind.

"Well," he said softly, "I am glad he was not permanently damaged."

"I swear I thought you were going to kill me right over the phone."

"No. Injuries are inevitable in our lifestyle, but I had to be sure you weren't abusing him. If I scared you, I am sorry."

"I mostly scared myself. But we've both learned a lot about each other since then."

"That's good. Will you and Alex be joining us this weekend?"

I didn't answer right away. Ever since Robert had handed me that ominous invitation, I'd been debating this. I'd finally shown it to Alex a few weeks ago. Naturally he was eager to go and show everyone what a great master he had, and what a good slave he was. He made it seem like it was just a trip to the movies or something. His na‹ve innocence was very cute, but it also worried me. At some level he still had no idea what all this really meant, or just how seriously certain people took it.

I wasn't afraid he would embarrass himself. Alex was already too smart, and too clever, and too good a slave for that. But I was afraid he might encounter slaves who were not as brave and strong as he was, slaves who were sad, pathetic specimens of humanity. So young and impressionable, I did not want him ever thinking that's how I wanted him to be.

And then there were the other masters to consider. Alex was new and very young, still a child in the grand scheme of things. He would, naturally, be the subject of unrelenting scrutiny. I remembered that first day when he stood in front of Robert and endured the seasoned master's harsh interrogation, cruel and calculated to break him. Alex was brave and wonderful that day, but Robert had given him all he could take, and he was crying when it was over. If he lost it in front of all of those people, what would it do to him? Alex had embraced his life as a slave. He was thriving. I did not want to risk that.

"You have doubts," Robert said.

"I do. Alex wants to go, but I don't think he's prepared for what he'll see. I'm not sure if I am either."

"Come and see us, Michael and me. Tonight if you can. You can stay with us a few days, and we'll go together if you think you're ready. It's not a long ride from my place."

That was an offer I could not refuse. "You are so good to us," I said.

"I love you like a son, Steven. And I love Alex like the terrific young man he is."

Alex was instantly excited about our trip. Not only the weekend gathering, but also the chance to spend a few days with Robert and Michael in their big mansion.

"You've got such a crush on him," I said, referring to the handsome young eighteen-year-old.

"I . . . I do not," he spat, as he packed his toothbrush.

"Come on," I goaded him. "One faggot to another, he's cute, isn't he?"

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean . . . "

"Alex is in love. How sweet."

"I am not," he said each word forcefully.

"Well, would you like to take a little gift to this person you don't love, just to let him know how you don't feel?"

Alex grinned from ear to ear and nodded his head yes. "I know just what I want to do."

He ran to his bedroom and sat down at his desk. Watching from the doorway I could see him sketching away. I walked in quietly behind him and looked over his shoulder. Alex' art is more expressive than representative. He rarely ever draws people, or places or things. Alex draws feelings. It's an amazing talent. There was a flourish and an almost childish joy in the wild colors and swirling shapes, just giving the hint of human form. He almost never used color, preferring a world in black and white, but this was clearly something special.

"Is that the two of you?" I asked him softly. The amorphous figures appeared to be in a gentle embrace, and, as with all of the boy's work, there was the unmistakable sense of motion.

"Yeah," Alex said shyly, "sort of. I guess it's mostly just how I feel when I'm around him."

I put my hands on his shoulders and bent down to hug him.

"Sometimes you're just so beautiful," I said. He smiled up at me.

"I haven't drawn one for us yet," he explained, as if I'd asked him to. "It still feels too strong. I don't know what to draw. That's okay isn't it?"

"When you do draw us, I know it's going to be perfect."

He rolled it up carefully and we hunted for a rubber band.

"Got everything packed?" I asked as he flopped down on his bed. We would be gone for at least two days, and possibly more.

Alex gave me a puzzled look. "I'm not sure what all I should bring."

He certainly wouldn't need many clothes. I had him pack an overnight bag with a pair of shorts, socks, a long shirt and his favorite black tank-top. He'd be wearing everything else he needed before we left.

"Strip," I told him.

Alex was naked in an instant. I took a moment to study his developing young body. Alex would never go through that gangly awkward stage that leaves some boys looking all arms and legs. He was perfect. Slender and coltish, lean and muscular, his body just hinting at the shape of the man he would become. His long cock hung soft and lazily between his legs, and aside from the little sparse tuft growing above it, Alex was still smooth and hairless.

"Stand!"

Immediately he put his hands behind his head and spread his feet wide. His leather collar and the cuffs around his slender wrists and ankles had become second nature to us both. I put his belt on him and locked his cock and balls away. He hummed softly. I put the plug in his ass for the first time in days, and strapped everything tightly in place. His harness went on next. We packed the ball-gag and the thigh cuffs.

"Shirt and shorts," I ordered. "Then get your socks and shoes on."

He pulled on the same blue shorts and plain shirt he'd been wearing around the house, then worked himself into his white socks. Restricted by the harness and the tight belt around his waist, his normal graceful boyish movements were comically inept.

"I'm not very bendable in this stuff, am I?" the boy asked with a wry expression.

"That's the idea, Alex. Do your best."

He always did. Finally he stood up again, ready for action. His collar and wrist cuffs were in plain view, but everything else was completely hidden. There was that dreamy smile on his sweet young face.

"This feels so neat," he said, "wearing all my gear under my clothes. No one can see it, but I know it's there. Totally sexy."

"I thought you'd get a kick out of it."

"I'm dripping already."

"You never quit, do you? My horny little colt."

"If I am it's your fault. Keeping a kid in a chastity belt all the time. That's totally sick."

"And you love it."

"Sure do."

We grabbed our few bags and went out to the truck. It was late afternoon now, so we stopped for fast food along the way. I was content to go through the drive up, but Alex insisted on going inside. More and more he loved the idea of his hidden bondage. I was worried that his harness might show through his shirt, but it was thick enough to keep from drawing attention to what was underneath.

The boy polished off two roast beef sandwiches and ate half of my fries along with his own. I had to be careful not to get my fingers too close for fear he'd bite them off. Our food budget was already beginning to explode with a hungry just-turned-teenager in the house, and I knew it would only be getting worse. He paused in his barbaric revelry once in awhile to smile up at me sheepishly.

"Don't know why I'm so hungry all the time," he said.

"Teen - ager," I replied. "Goes with the territory. You'll settle down in a few years."

Alex shrugged his shoulders, gave me a Neanderthal- style grunt, and dove back into his second sandwich.

Back in the truck he was talkative and excited. I remembered our first trip to Robert's place not so long ago. How quiet and pensive and nervous he was, and how much younger he seemed then. It had not even been two months, but boys do change so rapidly at this age, and it was a more mature version of my Alex who was sitting beside me now. And still an incredibly cute one. I reached over and patted my hand on his bare thigh, working it slowly up his smooth soft skin to the hem of his shorts, until it came in contact with the metal that encased his boyhood.

Alexander chuckled wickedly. "Hah! Keeps you frustrated sometimes too, doesn't it?" he teased. "I can't get out and you can't get in!"

"I can wait," I replied. "Days and days if I had to. I've always got that nice little ass of yours to play with. You, on the other hand . . . are just plain stuck."

"Okay, okay," he laughed. "I get it."

He would be getting it, before the night was over.

Before we rang the bell, I stripped Alex out of his clothes, attached the leash to his collar, and put the ball- gag in the boy's mouth, strapping it tightly behind his head. Michael opened the door to us. He bowed respectfully to me, and smiled brightly at his young counterpart. Robert appeared from his study and gave me firm handshake. He gave Alex a loving and gentle smack on the side of his face, then he put his hand under the boy's chin and stared long into Alexander's eyes.

My boy did not look away.

"Last time you were here," he said to Alex, "you were just a boy. Now I see you are considerably more than that. To be a slave is to be a very special person. You understand that, don't you?"

Alex nodded that he did. I sent him back to bring in our bags, and Michael led us down the hall to a room on the first floor, which would be ours for the next several nights. Alex dutifully lugged everything along behind me. Like everything else about Robert's place, the room was spacious and had a modern feel to it, quite a departure from the two-hundred-year-old house Alex and I lived in. It was a nice escape, and Alex immediately loved all of Robert's electronic gadgetry.

Robert stuck his head in for just a moment. "Why don't you two get comfortable. I'll put some tea on later. The bathroom has a whirlpool if you're interested. Michael will get you started. Make yourselves at home."

Still silenced by the gag, Alex eyed me with desperate excitement. I gave him a little tug on his leash to bring him back in line.

"Unpack our things," I stated firmly. "I'll have Michael show me the works."

Alex got to work, and handsome young Michael showed me to the bathroom, if you could call it that. It was almost as large as the bedroom itself, with a big window that took up an entire wall, offering a wonderful view of Robert's wooded property. The tub looked more like a small pool. It already had water in it, ready and waiting. Michael, in his collar, harness and belt, his usual attire, deftly and expertly got everything started and showed me the basics. The jets came on and set the water rolling.

"It will take a few minutes for the water to heat up, sir," Michael explained after he'd satisfied himself that I knew what I was doing. He brought out a set of towels for us and laid them by the sink, as well as some lotions and oils. "May I get anything else for you, sir?"

"No, Mike, thank you." He bowed his head humbly and turned to leave. I followed him out. Alex was finished with his little task and eagerly waiting for me. Wonderful how thirteen-year-olds can turn into little boys again when they get excited. Michael gave him an affectionate pat on the shoulder. Alex nearly melted.

When it was just the two of us, I told him to come stand in front of me. Alex put his hands behind his head without being told. I ran my fingers playfully up and down his sides, over his chest and stomach, then down his shapely young legs. He purred and sighed and closed his eyes. Touch was electrifying to him, especially when he was in his belt.

"I'm going to keep you gagged for a while," I told him. My young boy just looked so sexy and vulnerable with that dark red ball in his mouth, the leather straps buckled tightly around his head. He blinked his eyes for me just once. Working slowly, I took off his gear. First his harness, then his cuffs, then his belt. All the time I was sensually massaging his soft young skin and the firm developing muscles beneath it. His butt-plug slid out with no trouble at all. Soon he'd be ready for a larger one. The metal pod, rustproof, remained around his cock and balls. Last, as always, was his collar.

There was that look of surrender in his eyes again, and I felt his body relax against my touch. I laid the boy down on the bed and he spread his legs for me. My fingers worked easily into his young rectum, pink and hairless, and no longer quite so tight as it had been. I liked him a little loose. It made penetration less of a struggle for both of us.

Just weeks ago he would have been panting and squirming and wiggling around like a dervish. Now he just lay there utterly contented as I leisurely fingered him. I knew he was feeling it. Every so often his body would give an involuntary shudder or I'd feel his little ring clench up around my fingers. I had three of them inside him now, and could have gotten a fourth if I'd wanted to tear him up or cause him pain. I wanted neither. This was about pleasure. That slow, agonizing, frustrating pleasure he'd learned all at once to love and hate as his immature prostate was relentlessly massaged and stimulated.

Alex was moaning softly and soon his quiet sobs began. Somehow this always wrecked him emotionally, more than anything else we did. I knew that inside the pod the boy's restrained cock was leaking his clear fluid, trying desperately to erect itself. I kept going for a while, keeping that maddening pressure on his insides. Finally, when I figured the water was warm enough for us, I just stopped.

That is the real cruelty and mastery of working the kid's prostate. He would not have an orgasm. He knew it, and yet he had to lay there obediently and silently and endure the unbearable pleasure that suddenly and sharply just ceased. There was no climax, no release. It just stopped. His expression was one of desperation, as it always was at the end. I drew him into my arms and kissed him, running my fingers tenderly over his tightly closed eyes, his freckled nose, his soft cheeks without even the slightest trace of peach-fuzz, and the cold rubber ball in his mouth.

"Let's take a bath," I said.

He clung to me like a little child and I led him into the spacious room where the whirlpool was bubbling and churning, inviting us in. I held him for the first few minutes, but the warm steamy water soon calmed him. I removed his gag and let him go. He scooted around until he sat across from me.

"Feeling better now?" I asked.

His eyes swam, but he smiled. "You really know how to fuck me up," he said, stretching his slender legs out until they were entwined with mine. "I think that's like the cruelest thing you could ever do to somebody. It feels so good, but it never gets anywhere. I always think I'm going to explode, that's what it feels like, but I never do. Even when you make me cum that way it's the same. It's like . . . like the opposite of an orgasm . . . whatever that's called."

"I don't think there's a word for it."

"Well, someone should invent one."

We played footsie under the water for a few minutes, Alex splashing and laughing the whole time. Finally he settled down again and came around next to me. We embraced in the warm bubbling water. He dunked himself a few times and tried to get me under once or twice. Then we just sat quietly, his head on my shoulder as the water swirled around us.

I think he was nearly asleep when Robert's quiet knock on the door roused us both. "Tea is ready, gentlemen," he said, then, turning his eyes to Alex, "and I have a chocolate scone with your name on it, young man."

Alex dried me first, as was our ritual, then himself. I put all of his gear back on, and once my thirteen-year-old slave was collared, cuffed, and harnessed, we made our way to the living room. Alex carried his gag, figuring he'd be wearing it again before the night was done.

It was a warm and joyful gathering of friends, some old, some new. Michael and Alex did not wait on us this time, and were given permission to sit down together on the large sofa. We all helped ourselves and had a lively conversation touching on sports and politics, love and war and life in general. I learned that Michael was an astute and exceptionally intelligent young man, and we gave Alex every opportunity to spread his young wings and test out his rapidly evolving sense of the world in all its grown-up complexity.

Thirteen-year-olds are so charmingly idealistic, and so morally sure and certain. It was fun watching him, and fun talking with him. The perspective of a boy can often change your own, if you are adult enough to listen to what he has to say.

"Don't you have something for Michael?" I said to him privately.

Alex blushed fiercely. "I forgot. May I go get it now?"

"We are in Robert's house. I think you need to ask him before you leave the room."

He turned to our host. "Sir, may I be excused? I will come right back."

"Certainly, dear boy," Robert replied, wondering what exactly the young lad had in mind. "He's not sick, is he?"

"I don't think I'd call it a sickness, exactly," was my cryptic reply.

Alex returned with his drawing, still tightly rolled. With it was another piece of paper I hadn't seen him write. He must have stuffed in his bag before we left. Standing as tall as his five-feet allowed, he marched toward Michael and presented his thoughtful gift of friendship.

The young man was truly surprised to be the recipient. His blue eyes danced and he looked at each of us in his shy, gentle way. He read Alex' little note first, then removed the rubber band and unrolled the drawing. He looked up at Alex in wonder. My boy stood with his hands behind his back, nervously shuffling his feet.

"It's beautiful," I heard Michael say to him. "And yes, I do."

"Share it with us, Michael," said Robert.

"Sir, it's very personal," the young man replied.

Robert and I exchanged a glance then glared at our young slaves sternly.

"None of that. We are your masters," Robert said in a firm voice. "You will not keep any secrets between you. Now read Alexander's letter, Michael."

They looked at one another desperately for a moment. It was Alex' modesty and his feelings that Michael was protecting. Alex finally nodded that it was alright, and Michael began in his soft, youthful voice.

"Dear Mike,

I think you're really cute. You're also a great
slave and I'm trying very hard to be just like you. I
drew this picture for you. It's what I feel when I
think about you. I hope you like it. I hope you like me
too.

Your friend,
Alex"

I thought back to something Robert had said to me many weeks ago, when all of this still seemed so new and strange: That, one day, as my final act of love, I would let my sweet Alex go. Seeing him with Michael now, seeing them together, I saw a vision of that future. And I knew it was right.

"Yes, sir," Alex replied, unable to hide the excitement in his voice.

Robert, Michael and I all stood around him. All three of us were naked, Michael still in his collar and harness, but freed of his chastity belt for the first time in several months. Robert had had all of the young man's body hair permanently removed when he was sixteen, and his smooth tanned skin glistened in the dim soft lamplight of Robert's modern and well-equipped dungeon. I've said before that Michael is a small, slightly-built young man, and this applied to his cock and balls as well. He was just under six inches hard. My Alex was already bigger. But Michael was very thick and beautifully shaped down there, and his balls were large and heavy and no doubt aching for release.

Three men were hard, gazing down at the delicate fragile form of a naked thirteen-year-old boy on his hands and knees. Alex was out of his belt too, and his dick was at full staff and bobbing wildly as only a young teen's can. Like Michael, he was still collared and harnessed. I gave his leash a firm tug and he crawled toward me.

Alex licked the pre-cum from my dick. I handed his leash to Robert, who forced him to do the same. Then came Michael's turn to be cleaned. Mike would not take Alex' leash, but he did moan and sigh when the boy's warm mouth engulfed his perpetually frustrated cock. I pulled Alex back sharply and he settled back into his submissive position on all fours.

"Alex. Stay."

The boy did not move. The three of us all stood in front of him now, staring down at him, hard and hungry for this boy, even Robert, whose tastes normally did not run quite so young, but Alex does have a certain affect on people.

"Alex," our host said in his quietly menacing voice, "tonight you will learn more about what it means to be a slave. You are going to be done, boy, and done good. From now until the time we let you go to sleep not one minute is going to pass when you won't have a dick fucking you at both ends, and one of us working that nice young cock of yours. You will be blindfolded. Michael."

The young man handed the leather blinder to me. I knelt in front of my boy. He was already shaking.

"Frightened?" I asked as I lowered the blindfold over his eyes.

"Yes, sir."

Robert was there beside me, and he gently squeezed the boy's shoulders. "We won't let any harm come to you. You are loved, Alex, and you will be loved the way a slave should. Will you trust us?"

"Yes, sirs." His answer was immediate and carried no doubt, fear yes, but no doubt.

As Robert was our host, it was only fair that he take the boy first. Alex gasped in horror when I gave Robert permission to fuck him. I felt so guilty, but Alex needed to learn that being a slave meant his master could share him with others, or give his little ass away. His sole duty was to obey.

"Tell us your safeword, Alex."

"It's butterfly, sirs," he said. His young voice was suddenly very high and trembling.

Robert knelt down in front of him and held the boy's head in his hands. "Listen very carefully, Alex, this is very important. Most of the time you will not be able to speak. If you need to say your word and you can't, tap whoever is in front of you three times on the leg. That's all you have to do and everything stops. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir, thank you, sir."

"This is not about hurting you, or shaming you. This is about training you, young man, to endure things you never thought you could. I'm going to fuck you now, and you are going to give your master a fine sucking."

No more was said. Robert and I took our positions on our knees in front and behind him. Michael dutifully lay on his back and worked his way beneath our boy-on-all-fours. We let him go first, and he gave Alex a slow leisurely stroking, working the thirteen-year-old's foreskin up and down with a firm, milking grip. Alex moaned, and that was my signal to start. He sucked me feverishly for a moment, until Robert carefully but ruthlessly entered him. Then, I'm sure, the boy's entire world turned to madness.

Alex was being plugged at both ends. Robert had taken forceful possession of his sweet young boyhole, with long powerful thrusts of a cock considerably larger and thicker than my own. I was in my boy's mouth, holding his head firmly in my hands as I worked my cock down his throat. I timed my thrusts, so that I entered every time Robert withdrew. It was driving the kid wild. Between the boy's trembling legs, Michael had taken control of Alex' cock, giving him firm, loving strokes, taking him to the edge and then denying him.

"Milk him good, Mike," I ordered. The young man, entirely ignoring his own throbbing erection, did just that. Before long a steady stream of pre-cum was dripping onto the soft mat that covered the floor. Alex moaned and purred and would have shouted had his master's cock not kept him quiet.

After about twenty minutes, Robert and I switched places. Neither of us had cum yet. Alex knew something was happening, but in his blindfold he could not see. We began again. I felt my boy tense, just for a moment, as I pressed my cock deep into his gaping hole, red and ravaged. Robert had indeed torn him just a bit, but there was no bleeding to speak of. In a single thrust I entered him. He whimpered and sobbed, then had his voice abruptly cut off by Robert's giant cock worming down his narrow throat.

"Is he still hard?" I asked Michael as I slid roughly in and out of my boy.

"Yes, sir."

"Keep him that way. Tell me when he cums."

It was perhaps another half-hour of intense fucking before that finally happened. I felt Alex' little ring clench around my cock, he moaned deeply and softly, and the boy's sperm was soon dribbling from his penis onto the floor. Robert got the frantic sucking of his life as Alex once again endured the sensation of cumming without orgasm. The kid was shaking, clawing his hands desperately into the soft mat beneath him. Seeing Alex in his spasmodic sexual frenzy sent Robert and me over the edge. We both came together and filled him from both ends with our seed.

I pulled out slowly. My juices trickled from the boy's gaping hole and ran down his legs. I could see it dripping from his mouth as well. Normally Alex swallowed everything, but he was too frantic and too worn out to bother. My boy remained submissively on his hands and knees, waiting for his masters to take him again. Alex knew we were only just beginning, but we would need a few minutes to recover before we started over, and we were not about to leave him empty. Robert worked a large butt-plug up Alexander's ass, nearly twice the size he was used to. I strapped his gag in place. Through it all, young Alex was completely silent and obedient. To keep him limber while we recharged, Michael was told to take the boy by his leash and lead him around the dungeon on all fours. It was an endearing, and arousing sight.

Michael was very hesitant at first, unsure of this new unfamiliar role he was being asked to play. His position in Robert's house had been unambiguous since he was fifteen years old, but Alex' presence here had abruptly changed that. Among the four of us, there was simply no question that Alex was a bottom of the most profound magnitude, thus young Michael found himself unexpectedly thrust into a dominant role. It made him visibly uncomfortable, but it was utterly impossible to imagine this scene ever being reversed. In any hierarchy of dominance and submission, Alex would always be the last link in the chain.

Hesitance aside, Michael was a faithful and loyal slave, and followed his master's orders without question. And, he did gradually begin to assert himself. Before long he had my young Alex under his firm and strict control, pulling firmly but always gently on the leash, reaching down and giving the thirteen-year-old's cute little ass a nice swat whenever he strayed too far away. I couldn't help but smile.

"Seems Mikey is enjoying himself," I observed.

"I believe he's learning something tonight as well," Robert replied with a certain light in his eyes.

Michael had Alex back in position and waiting for us. The plug came out, the gag came off and we started on him again. Alex had surrendered totally. Even the deepest submissives put up a little instinctual resistance at first, but now he just stayed there on his hands and knees, his only movement resulting from the powerful thrusts of the cocks buried in his mouth and rear end. His only sounds were those deep mournful groans that told me he was in another world.

I lost track of the time, focusing all my thoughts on delaying my next orgasm as long as possible. We probably carried on this way, switching several times, for another two hours. By the end, the boy's arms and legs had turned to rubber. Robert and I held him up as we continued to use him. Alex' strong ecstatic groans were becoming frail whimpers of exhaustion. Finally, as my cock swelled in his throat, I felt three weak little taps on my leg. His hand remained there, gripping tightly to my thigh.

"That's three," I announced.

Immediately we all stopped. With great care and tenderness, Robert gradually pulled out. Alex collapsed on his stomach, splayed out and motionless, unable to even manage a wiggle. He was breathing softly. I left him in his blindfold. Robert and I still had some unfinished business throbbing between our legs.

Michael dutifully offered his mouth. I must confess he is very skilled, though I missed the warmth and smallness of my own boy. He did his master last, and they ended with the rough kiss I'd seen before. Michael was now the only one of us who hadn't spilled his seed in some way, and his cock was still rock-hard. I don't remember him softening even once the entire time.

"May I help him with his little problem, Robert?"

"By all means."

The young man blushed visibly, especially at the word 'little'. There was no denying it though. Compared to the other three cocks in the room, his was the junior member. And I'm sure Alexander's more than generous endowment was a source of embarrassment for him. Being smaller than your master is one thing, being smaller than a boy who was still in middle school was quite another. In truth, Mike's cock, while not large by anyone's measure, was certainly more than adequate, and it was quite thick and meaty, making up in girth what it lost in length, with a perfect curve to it. A beautiful organ. Feeling I'd unintentionally hurt his feelings, I took the eighteen-year-old's penis in my hand and stroked it gently.

"It's really very beautiful, Michael," I said to him. "I think you're perfect the way you are."

Mike smiled at me, and, bless him, he moved close and rested his head on my shoulder as I slowly masturbated him. His really has the perfect cock for a slave. Large enough to have fun with when a master desires it, small enough to simply ignore the rest of the time. I've often wondered why nature saw fit to give Alex such a big one, when his natural tendencies meant that he would be using it so seldom.

It wasn't long before Michael shot into my hand. There wasn't much, and I could see it gave him very little pleasure. Robert had given him a thorough milking not two days earlier.

"I believe slaves should be kept dry," the seasoned master explained. "Makes them much happier when they don't have to think about cumming all the time."

I'm not sure if 'happy' was an accurate description for Michael at that moment. Sexual frustration can become a permanent state of existence if a young man is denied long enough. Robert was clearly taking Michael in a direction that I did not want Alex and I to go, at least not entirely.

Alex was still stretched out on his stomach when we returned to him. I knelt beside him and removed the blindfold, kissing his eyelids tenderly before they fluttered open.

"Feeling okay?" I asked.

He moaned weakly as I took his hand. "Hmmm. Can't move," he whispered.

I began to massage his shoulders. Robert and Michael soon joined me, rubbing Alex' back and his thighs. The boy now had six firm gentle hands caressing him, soothing his tired aching muscles. I rubbed his arms, Michael rubbed his feet, Robert straddled him and pressed his hands into the small of his back. Alex sighed, lost in the simple pleasure of our tender, loving ministrations. Touch has always been important to him, a physical connection to those he loves. He cannot live a day without it.

"Still awake, little man?"

His eyes opened lazily. "Yes, sir."

I got him to his feet. He was often quite talkative after a scene, but not tonight. It was still far too intense for him to make sense of. There had been a darkness in this room, and not because of his blindfold. He felt it surrounding him, and as much as it frightened him, it also compelled him. The boy just gazed at us all sleepily.

"Take him upstairs, Steven," Robert said softly. "I believe he's given us all he has tonight."

Indeed he had. I put my arm around him and together we climbed the steps, leaving Robert and Michael alone. I had a feeling their night was just beginning.

I awoke to that strange feeling that something was missing. I realized it was Alex. He'd fallen asleep in my arms, snoring softly as young boys do, even before I could pull the blankets over us. All night his small, warm, naked body lay next to mine. Its sudden absence was unpleasant. I knew why he was gone, and that only made it colder. He was off by himself, thinking about last night. That meant he'd be wanting to talk about it. I lay back, and a slight shiver crept over me when I recalled what we'd done to him, how harsh and cruel we had been, how relentless, how merciless. And how we'd used him, that was the word, wasn't it?

As I dressed and went off to find him, I had only one thought, one I could not even bring myself to finish. 'Steven, if you've made that boy hate you . . . '

I found him out on the deck. He was naked, leaning his elbows on the wooden rail, gazing off into the woods, still shrouded in morning mist. It was a touching scene, this young boy alone in the wide, wide world. Alex still seemed so small, and everything else so big, yet I knew that deep inside the boy had grown and that the world was no longer so dark and scary to him. After just watching for a moment, I quietly stepped beside him.

"Hey," I finally said, breaking the silence.

"Hey," Alex answered back. "You're up early."

Over the last month I'd come to enjoy making Alex wait in the mornings, leaving him chained to his bed or locked in his cage. Slaves spent a lot of their time just waiting, and it was a lesson Alex had already begun to learn.

"I got lonely," I replied.

Alex yawned. "I just couldn't stay in bed any longer."

"Busy brain this morning?"

"Yep."

"Feel like talking about it?"

Alex gave me a wise look far beyond his years. "You could just make me tell you."

"I could, but I won't."

An unsure smile, then those beautiful thoughtful eyes. "Last night was the hardest thing I've ever done," he said. "I really felt like a slave. I mean, I always do, but last night I was the slave, you know, even to Michael."

"How did that make you feel?"

"Scared at first," Alex replied honestly. "Three masters all at once is tough, but then I got into it. God, you were all so hard on me, and you just kept going after me. I didn't think it was ever going to stop. I . . . I liked being used that way. That's what last night was all about, wasn't it?"

I nodded and put my arm around him. The boy moved closer and pressed his slender naked frame against me.

"Part of me really hated you for letting Robert fuck me, for just . . . just giving me away like that."

"I know, Alex. That's part of what it means to be a slave. You handled it very well."

"I didn't think you'd really let it happen," Alex said. "At first I was waiting for you to stop it. When you didn't, everything just went all crazy. I've never felt that way before, even with all the stuff we've done. It's like I was just . . . " he paused, trying to put the feeling into words, "just a piece of . . . of furniture or something, just a place for you and Master Robert to put your dicks whenever you felt like it."

"Slaves are property, Alex," I reminded him rather coldly.

"And you can do whatever you want with me," he continued on his own. There was that look of needful submission in his eyes again. I was relieved to see it, and ready to take him a little further.

"I certainly can, and I certainly will." I locked my hand around his slender wrist. "And right now you have your morning duties to perform. On your knees."

The boy was down in front of me instantly, reaching out to pull my boxers down.

"Hands behind your back," I said, giving them both a quick slap.

"But how . . ."

"You have a mouth, Alex, don't you?"

"Oh, wow."

"No talking."

Being careful not to bite me, Alex took a mouthful of my boxers and began to tug them down. This was a new level of humiliation for him, and he was breathing hard with excitement. Actually his breathing wasn't the only thing that was hard at the moment. I raised my foot and pressed it roughly into his soft dangly scrotum, feeling his balls retreat against my toes. Alex moaned as the pressure and pain shot through him. Kicking him down there would have simply been brutish. No, a small amount of force, constantly and relentlessly applied, is often the most effective discipline. Even as I toyed with him, he wrapped his warm mouth around my cock and went at it.

"You spilled some last night," I recalled. "Don't do that again."

With his lips encircling my dick he shook his head. It's a beautiful sight, a gentle thirteen-year-old boy with a big throbbing penis in his mouth, impaling his sweet face. His hazel eyes always remained so strikingly innocent in these moments. After just a few minutes, I grabbed him by the ears and came with violent thrusts. Alex gagged and sputtered, but did not let a drop of my seed fall from his lips.

Taking a cue from Robert, I pushed him away harshly. Alex ended up on his back, his legs spread submissively. I worked my foot over his cock, pressing my heel into his balls.

"Does this hurt?"

"Yes, sir," he answered in a strained voice.

I knelt down over him, pressing my knee between his legs, slowly, firmly. Alex writhed and gasped.

"Don't move."

With my knee grinding into his teenaged balls, I worked the boy's nipples, twisting and pinching and flicking them with my fingers until they were hard. His taut muscular stomach was rising and falling in heaving breaths now. I stuck a single finger into his perfect little navel and pressed down hard. Alex growled at me, and his rigid cock surged.

I took my knee away and straddled him now. He gazed up at me with wild and desperate eyes. I love him like this. You can almost smell the sex. I grabbed his penis and stroked it hard and fast.

"Aahh, ahhh, please, please, sir, aaahhh, please, aaaahhhh." Alex thrust his narrow hips madly, and shot his young sperm onto his chest. He lay there motionless. His eyes were closed, a look of satisfaction and joy was written upon his face.

"Very nice, Steven," I heard Robert say with a chuckle.

I looked up to see him standing in the doorway, with a cup of coffee in his hand. I wondered how long he'd been watching us.

"You've got that slave begging you," he said as he joined us and looked down at my prone and freshly drained boy. "Priceless."

"He is that," I replied. Alex managed to prop himself up on his elbows and offered a shy 'good morning' to our host.

"I thought you'd told me no orgasms for the young man," Robert said as we helped Alex to his feet.

"I changed my mind," was the best rejoinder I could come up with. It may have seemed indecisive and unmasterly to Robert, but I had discovered that just keeping Alex from cumming was not really the point, and not really enough for either of us. Denial is not really control. It is simply denial, and it was already becoming too easy for my submissive boy. No, it was time to shift the ground beneath him once again. Making the boy cum, whenever, wherever, and however I felt like it would be the true and final expression of my total control over his sex. I'd always keep him on the edge, but he'd never know from week to week, month to month, or even day to day, if he'd be allowed to have an orgasm or not.

Chastity would still be the general rule for my boy, but already I envisioned weekends where he'd have to keep himself hard and shooting over and over again until his cock was red and raw and sore. Then, I'd put him right back into his belt.

"Twist him around," Robert said, seemingly having read my thoughts and approved. "I like it. And so will you, young man." He raised the boy's eyes to his own with a firm hand under the chin.

Alex stared back at him. "Whatever my master decides for me is best, sir."

The older master laughed and gave my young slave a loving little slap to his face. "Such impertinence today, little one, perhaps we didn't fuck you quite hard enough."

Just the thought of repeating last night's session set the boy's eyes wide and dancing. Fear and desire, it was so arousing watching these two extremes tear him slowly apart.

"Michael is cleaning up the dungeon this morning. May I put this young colt to work in the kitchen?"

"Let me get him harnessed and belted first," I replied. I took Alex by the hand and led him back to the bedroom. Getting him into his gear was still a wonderful moment between us, its routine in no way diminishing the profound meaning of his strict bondage and chastity. Harnessed, belted, always collared. I worked the plug up his ass and strapped it in place. I put his thigh cuffs on as well, just because they made him look so sexy. With his leash in place, I ordered him on all fours and walked him out to the kitchen, where Robert was patiently waiting for him. I noticed a slender riding crop in his hand.

"He's all yours," I said as I handed Robert the boy's leash and tacitly nodded my approval of the crop. "Do whatever Master Robert tells you, Alex."

"Yes, sir."

I returned to the living room to enjoy the magnificent view from the windows, and the fresh coffee awaiting me on the table. I heard Robert order Alex to stand up, the quick swishing of the crop through the air, and Alex' submissive little squeal as it made contact with his rear end. After that I tuned everything out.

Alex was becoming a great little kitchen drudge, and Robert again proved himself a gracious host, fixing an enormous breakfast. We ate together in his sunny kitchen. Alex with his behind nicely reddened, and Michael sat on the floor with their plates in front of them. As Alex was finishing off his third waffle of the morning, I could not help but smile.

"You never made breakfast like this for me when I stayed with you," I said to Robert.

"My dear Steven," he waved a finger at me in admonishment, "you were in no condition for breakfast when you stayed with me."

Alex shot his head up and looked at me with questioning eyes. I'd dropped enough hints over the last two months, and he knew that Robert and I had some sort of past related to my less sober days.

"How much does the boy know?" Robert asked, looking sidelong at Alex.

"Just that you helped me. I've left the rest to his imagination."

Robert laughed and patted Alex on the head. "Keep imagining, boy. You weren't the first member of your family to spend time in my dungeon, just the first one to be fucked there."

Alex winced a little at the memory of last night, then gave me a dark smirk. "You must have really been messed up."

He had no idea. Then again, maybe he did.

After breakfast, Michael returned to the dungeon with Alex in tow. Robert explained to me over a final cup of coffee that a slave should be fully responsible for the care and maintenance of the implements of his own pain and discipline. "Michael is punished severely if I ever find dust or dirt down there. All the leather is to be cleaned and oiled, all the metal to be buffed and polished. Gives the boy a proper perspective. You should put Alex on such a regimen, if you haven't already."

Up until now, creating our dungeon had been a joint effort between man and boy, but now that it was taking shape, it was time to add it to the growing list of Alexander's duties. Robert and I spent the next several hours discussing the finer points of raising a boy slave. Robert had done it successfully, and although Michael had already been a teenager when he took him in, his experiences were still valuable and insightful.

"Alex is very intelligent," Robert reminded me of the obvious, not for the first time, "in a very subtle and devious kind of way. I don't mean that as an insult, it is simply part of his character. I saw it last night. You were ready to give in and let him off the hook . . ."

I shook my head in protest, but Robert stilled me with a masterful stare.

"There is no shame in admitting that you are compassionate and gentle, Steven, even if you are a sadist. The two are not mutually exclusive as some might think. Alex knows it, and he uses it whenever it suits him. You were ready to stop. To hug and hold and keep evil Robert from hurting your sweet and gentle boy. And Alex played you perfectly . . . he had you dancing for him. I could see it in your eyes. It is to your credit that you didn't let him have his way."

"This morning he told me he thought I'd make you stop. He was upset that I didn't."

"So, a little bit of truth from the young man."

"Alex does not lie," I said strongly.

"Of course he doesn't," Robert replied without any sarcasm. "I don't believe he is capable of lying to you, such is his love for you, but he is quite skilled at not telling the truth. Do you see the difference?"

I nodded.

"He keeps his true feelings close to his skin. Every once in a while, he lets you see the depths, but mostly he keeps you at a safe distance. Doesn't he?"

It was true. Alex would embrace all the pain I could give him, but the pain inside his tormented young soul was something he had never truly shared with me. I remembered that day, almost five years ago, when he walked silently beside me, staring up at me with those haunted eyes. There was accusation there and even a little hate, just for a moment. He'd managed to hide it over the years, but I knew it was still there, the feeling, the truth, that the one person in the world who could have saved him from his torment had abandoned him to it instead.

I've come to swear that Robert is a mind reader, at least mine. He took my hand gently and smiled at me, and I could tell by his expression that he understood.

"That is why he has chosen you to be his master. He sees you as his executioner and his savior, all at once. He does hate you, you know, every bit as much as he loves you. It is a paradox he cannot deal with, one he needs you to fix for him."

"A few weeks ago he told me it wasn't my fault . . . that he was abused."

"Naturally. And he wants to believe that, desperately. But he can't. His heart keeps telling him it's a lie."

"How do I fix him?" I asked.

"You already are, Steven. I'm sure he's told you that too."

"He has. 'You're making me better.'"

"And that is the honest truth. Never be afraid to be his master. Never be afraid to be cruel. And never give in to him. He has his safeword, and you have taught him, with some pain, to use it. That is all either of you need. Take him far, Steven, take that boy the very edge of his endurance, and then make him take another step with you. He may stumble, but as long as you are beside him, he will not fall."