Mastering Alex

Chapter 26
New Rules

There was, of course, a natural hierarchy, with junior slaves like Alex occupying the very bottom; but everyone, from the most experienced master to the least experienced slave, was treated with respect. Slaves did suffer humiliation at times, after all it is in their nature to do so, but there were limits, and I recalled once more Robert's guiding philosophy, that a slave's basic rights as a human being never be abused or ignored. It is a way of thinking, and a way of treating and raising Alex, that appealed to me deeply. I'd seen the boy grow happier and more confident since our journey together had begun. He was stronger now, inside and out, and yet he'd lost none of his kindness, his compassion, his thoughtfulness, his gentle nature.

Alex was a slave, but his beautiful spirit was free.

And even as he slept, the three of us continued making plans for the boy's next five days. What we would do to him and make him do, ways to push his endurance to the limit and beyond, games we would play with him to keep him confused and off balance, and awake. Michael diligently sat with pad and pencil between his legs and worked out a suitable schedule for us, ensuring Alex would always have two people watching him while the rest of the household slept in shifts. In the end, I realized, we would all be working a lot harder than Alex himself in the days to come.

"Do we tell him, or just do it?" Samuel Collins asked, as he leisurely stroked his little pet boy's back.

"That is his master's decision, I believe," Robert replied. All eyes, even young Sebastian's, were on me at that moment.

I had to think about it. Knowing Alex like I do, telling him when it began would have been the more cruel and manipulative choice, giving him time to think and worry about the entire five days within the span of a few minutes. Forcing him right into it with no warning also held a certain appeal. He would have no grasp of the larger game being played until he was well and hopelessly committed to it. In the end I chose cruelty. Alex would know and already be dreading it before we even started.

"What do you think, Michael?" I asked.

The young man nearly dropped his pencil, then looked at his master first before answering me. "I agree with you, sir. I think you should tell him."

"No. I think we'll make you tell him, with your master's permission of course," I replied sharply.

Robert grinned, as a look of absolute dismay crossed Michael's handsome and still boyish features.

"Problem, Michael?" Robert asked darkly.

The eighteen-year-old sat up straight. "No, master."

"Then it's settled," I announced. "Once the evening is over, we'll bring him back here and begin. Agreed?"

Robert and Samuel indicated their approval, and there was a playful, almost wicked smirk in young Sebastian's eyes. Something told me I would need to watch that boy carefully. Not that I expected him to be capable of cruelty, but mischief yes, to a large degree. Michael, in contrast, appeared to be in some far off place, perhaps envisioning his new and unexpected role where my Alex was concerned.

With my guests departed, I returned to the bedroom and gazed at the boy beneath the blankets. Alex lay on his right side, one hand beneath the pillow, the other resting gently above it, close to his face. He was beautiful, and in that moment I needed to be with him. Still in my clothes, I pulled the covers back and crawled in beside him. He stirred and groaned at me, then shivered, struck by the panic that often hits when one is awakened suddenly from a deep sleep.

"It's just me, Alex," I said quietly, gently squeezing his shoulder.

With a soft whimper, he rolled himself over to face me. His hazel eyes were tired, and I saw them dance, just momentarily, in apprehension, wondering what wicked game his master might be up to now. I felt a curious delight that he was beginning to think that way, but also a sudden sadness, as if the closeness we'd shared had somehow slipped away, just a little. I smiled at him, and I suppose my eyes told him it really was just me, his brother, his protector, his lover. There were times when being his master was simply too much for either of us to bear.

"You don't have to get up, honey," I told him, as his hand found mine. "I thought you might like some company."

"Thanks," Alex said, as I kissed his fingers.

"How was it?" I asked. "Being whipped like that."

My boy let his head fall back onto the pillow, and he stared straight up at the ceiling, blinking his eyes slowly. "Terrible."

"Alex 3;"

"I didn't say I wouldn't do it again," he replied, his voice cracking and trembling. "The worst part was knowing you were watching. I couldn't let him beat me. I wasn't going to say my word 3; I wasn't going to let him make me do it 3; even if he killed me."

"You know it never would have gone that far 3; but I believe you. Robert says everyone's talking about you."

"Cool."

"You liked all that attention, didn't you?"

"Sometimes," he said, moving close to me so I could wrap my arms around him. "I didn't like that thing he put around my neck."

"The yoke?"

"Yeah, that."

"Humiliating?"

Alex nodded slowly.

"That was the idea. And know that I know how much you hate it, we'll definitely be getting one for you to wear around the house."

He glared at me, but I felt his cock twitch against my leg. It was slowly hardening as the thought of being yoked like an animal ran through his head.

"That excites you."

"Yes." His voice was small and guilty, and, instinctively, the boy started rubbing himself against me.

"No more of that, little man," I told him, pushing him away.

His sweet young eyes were desperate. "Please put my belt back on. Please! I can't stand it like this."

"You have to learn, Alex. I'm very disappointed in you. You made yourself ejaculate when I was fucking you. You did not have permission to do that."

"I'm sorry, Steve. It just felt so good, I couldn't stop."

"You could have. You just didn't want to. A slave has no right to pleasure himself."

"I know. I'm in trouble, aren't I?"

"I won't punish you here, but you're going to be spending several hours in the stocks when we get home, maybe with four or five pounds [1¾-2¼ kg] of lead hanging from your balls."

Normally such a comment would have produced some smart remark from him. Instead there was only silence. A sudden thought must have crossed his mind, and it showed on his face. "Are you mad at me?"

"Aw, honey, no. I'm not mad." I stroked his arm and shoulder, then his cheek. "I know how hard it is for a boy your age to show restraint, but that's still no excuse. I'm not going to keep you in the belt all the time. That would be too easy for you. From now on, when you're not in your belt, I want you to tell me when you're having an erection. Even when we're out in public, I want to know about it, anytime, anywhere. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Every erection earns you punishment. It's your job to keep track and tell me how many you had at the end of the day."

"Man, my ass is gonna be red forever!"

"Probably," I laughed and kissed him on the forehead, and he melted back into my arms. "But there are some exceptions. When you're bound, or chained to your bed, or sleeping in your cage 3; anytime you can't touch yourself, it's okay for you to be hard. And when we're in the dungeon together. I expect you to have an erection then."

Alex sighed and snuggled up against me. "I like that."

"Do you?"

"Yeah. And I've got one right now."

"I know you do. But we'll start with a clean slate, alright?"

"Ok."

"Go back to sleep. I'll wake us up in a few hours."

"What'll we do then?" he asked as he rolled over onto his side once more.

"You'll see."

I got us up around five, the growling of our stomachs making further sleep impossible. I took Alex to the bathroom and cleaned him out with the enema equipment provided. The instructions told me to throw the nozzle attachment away when I was finished, and that another would be provided the next morning. How thoughtful.

It was Alex' first cleansing in several days, and it took three full bags, the second with soap, to get everything cleared. The boy whined and moaned as he stayed there on his hands and knees, the tube sticking out of his cute little ass, his ripening balls hanging low between his legs. I rubbed his thighs for him, then reached around and massaged his distended belly, working the warm water deep inside him. He was learning to hold it longer and longer, and he managed to keep the last one in for more than six minutes. The boy was pale and sweating when it was all over.

"Alright, wipe yourself."

He did, pausing to stick a finger up there and work it around, uttering a sigh from the pleasure he was giving himself. I let him have his fun for a few minutes, my own cock dripping just from watching him.

"Get your plug, Lexi," I finally said.

He trotted over to the sink and presented it to me, bending over and grabbing his ankles without being told. He'd already managed to get himself loose and moist with his finger, so the cold metal plug went in with relative ease.

"Mmm," he cooed softly, at once loving and hating the constant pressure inside him.

Back in the sitting room, Alex handed me his collar, his young eyes flashing with that wondrous mix of anxiety and excitement. He was ready to go on, I did not need to ask, or doubt. I locked his collar around his neck, running my fingers over the soft leather.

"Hug me," he demanded.

Those two words were the only orders Alex ever gave, and I always obeyed whenever I heard them.

"I love you," I told him, as he buried himself in my strong embrace. I realized I hadn't told him that in a while.

He must have read my thoughts. "You don't have to tell me. I know."

I held him that much tighter.

"Come on," I finally said, letting him go. "We're missing all the fun out there."

Alex gave me a smart little smirk.

"Go to the armoire and pick out a leash for your collar." I gave him a sharp pat on his rump to get him moving. "I saw a nice silver chain that would look good on you, but it's your choice."

He was there and back in an instant, with the exact one I would have chosen for him. Shiny, with small tight links, with a leather loop at the end for the master's use. I attached the chain to the ring in front of his collar and gave him a firm tug, nearly pulling him off his feet. It was shorter than Alex was accustomed to, just three feet [90 cm] long, meant to keep the boy close, which was my intention. I walked him around the room for several minutes so he could learn the new limits on his freedom.

"Here's the rule, just for today," I said. "I want to feel you next to me at all times. Your hand, or your shoulder, or your hip. You are never to let yourself out of my reach or out of my touch. Do you understand?"

My tone of voice told him this was very important, and I saw just a glimmer of fear in his eyes as he nodded his head. "Yes, sir."

Cuffs and harness, and his belt, remained on the floor where they'd come off. Alex gazed at them and then at me, asking his silent question.

"I'm going to keep you naked for a while. Let everyone see how adorable you are."

Alex gave me his shy trademark smile, but then his face grew thoughtful. "Is that why I need to stay close to you?"

"Brilliant deduction, Watson," I answered with a grin. "These people are strangers. I don't want you getting into trouble."

Alex knew exactly what kind of trouble I meant, and his expression became serious.

"I am going to let people touch you, and play with you," I reached down and fondled his cock, "all they want. But I promise I won't let you go." I wrapped the leather loop around my wrist and pulled him close again. I could tell by his sudden sharp breathing that he was getting nervous. Alex craves touch from those he loves, but he cringes and shrinks from it whenever it comes from other quarters.

The silver chain rattled. My poor Alex was shaking. His next words to me were a low whisper.

"I'm scared."

"I know you are. I also know you'll keep your place and do as you're told."

He nodded solemnly. "I won't let you down."

"You never have."

Pulling him gently behind me, we left our private little sanctuary and returned to the world outside.

Still, he followed my orders precisely, never allowing himself to stray from my touch, and often pressing himself against me whenever a master was particularly rough with him.

"I'm getting hard, sir," he whispered to me on at least five occasions. The thirteen-year-old's frequent erections drew yet more attention his way, and I made him walk with it hard and throbbing and waving in front of him.

We did nothing in particular that afternoon. It was enough to mingle and begin meeting others in this hidden world of ours. Masters and slaves alike came in all ages, shapes and sizes, and some of the most experienced slaves, I noticed, were quite masterful in their own right, confident and self-assured. More than a few of them spoke openly to Alex, asking if he was enjoying himself, to which Alex invariably replied 'Yes'; asking what hobbies he had, to which Alex invariably asked 'Other than sex?' which always resulted in smiles and laughter. Never once though did another slave touch him.

I did finally pause to load up a scrumptious plate of food for myself, which Alex dutifully carried around with outstretched hands. He ate none of it, nor did he ask. When I'd finished, we went off together and I found him some fruit, and a nice piece of grilled chicken. He put his plate on the ground and gobbled everything down as if I'd not fed him in days.

"Slow down, Alex," I laughed. "People will think I'm starving you."

"I thought you were going to," he said before tearing another piece of chicken from the bone with his teeth.

Alex was just wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, when our host appeared. It was the first time I'd encountered him since our first meeting earlier in the day. He was no longer clad in his refined suit, but now in leather and black denim. Tall and slender, with a formal air about him, still a man of cultured tastes. Thomas, the handsome young door-ward who had welcomed us, was on his left. The teenager was collared, and he wore a thick leather belt and harness around his waist, chains ran from it, ending in a metal clasp that was closed tightly around his ample cock and balls, another set anchoring the butt-plug no doubt firmly seated behind. Cuffs adorned his slender ankles, and his large feet were bare. Still young enough to be naturally smooth and hairless, the boy's tanned skin seemed golden in the fading light of late summer's eve.

Beside Thomas stood a younger boy whom I judged to be close in age to Alex, fourteen at most. A little taller perhaps than my own boy, slender but not skinny, young muscles just beginning to develop in his arms and legs. He had brownish-blond hair, and his eyes, when he raised them, were an icy blue. They had a piercing quality that it made it difficult to return his gaze. He was naked, and his body quite handsome with a taut flat stomach and a narrow tapered waist. Smooth limbs lean and wiry. His cock was a pleasing sight, not overly large, not small either, but long and thick and cut, with plump balls dangling below. The boy had pubic hair, light in color and still sparse, but he was surely the only boy here allowed such an honor.

It struck me just as Wim was introducing us that this boy was not a slave, at least not like Alex, or any of the others we'd met.

"My son Joshua," our host said, gesturing to the attractive lad.

Joshua stepped forward and took my hand with a confident smile. His grip was sure and sturdy for one so very young.

"Good afternoon, sir," he said in a voice caught somewhere between boy and man. He then rested his eyes on Alex. "I've heard all about you," he said to him in a playful tone, smiling for the first time. "Wish I could've been there to see it. Nearly gave old Barto a heart attack, didn't you?"

"I guess so," Alex replied.

"I'd sure as hell like to take a crack at you sometime," the boy said with a sly grin.

The riding crop Wim carried sailed through the air and landed squarely on Joshua's ass.

"I won't tell you again about your language, boy," our host admonished his son. Joshua quickly bowed his head in submission, but I could see a defiant gleam in his blue eyes.

"I apologize for Joshua's behavior, Steven. He has the makings of a fine master, but at the moment he is quite a handful. Isn't he, Thomas dear?"

Thomas nodded without much emotion. I imagined it must have been quite difficult to take orders from a younger boy. He and Josh exchanged a barbed glare at one another, and it was clear that Wim's slave had little use for Wim's son, and that the opposite was equally true.

Wim continued, moving his eyes up and down along Joshua's lean attractive frame. There was not an ounce of fat on the boy, and his skin was perfect and unblemished. Joshua's cock was slowly hardening as he feasted his own young eyes on my Alex. "I believe," Wim said, "that we still have guests that need tending to. That is your job if I'm not mistaken."

Joshua gazed at his father with a certain sincere contrition in his eyes. "Nice meeting you, sir," he said to me, then gave Alex a little smile. With exacting, almost military posture, he turned and walked away, offering me a tantalizing view of his cute teenaged ass.

"See that he stays out of trouble, Thomas. I'll whip the hide off you if he doesn't."

The sixteen-year-old slave took the threat seriously, and ran off after his young master-in-training.

"Together they keep me quite busy," Wim said with a sigh as he watched them disappear beneath a nearby canopy filled with mingling masters and subdued slaves.

"I'll bet they fight like brothers." I winked at my own flesh and blood and my little brother risked a quiet laugh.

Wim looked at me and then at Alex, and a sardonic smile crossed his face.

"And who wins when the two of you go at it, may I ask?" came his sharp reply.

Alex chuckled again.

"You might be surprised," I said. "There are times when I wonder who's really the master, and who's really the slave."

Our host smiled at me, an expression that told me he understood and shared those feelings. "That often happens with the more 3; shall we say 3; aggressive submissives. They know their place, but they are demanding nonetheless. Thomas can still wear me out. I'm sure Alex leaves you breathless much of the time."

"For all sorts of reasons."

I held Alex close and he leaned his head against me. Brothers and lovers, just for instant, and then he was back standing in wait beside his master.

"I would very much like to introduce him to the group," Wim said. "Would you like that, young man?"

I gave the boy a silent tap on the wrist to let him know I expected him to answer. I could actually see the thrill running through him, the very idea of standing naked in front of everyone left him trembling.

"Sir, I would like that very much." And in spite of his obvious fear, I knew he was not lying.

"And will you be joining our hunt this evening?"

The thirteen-year-old's expression told me he really had no idea what to make of such a question, or which answer was expected. Out of his depths, Alex looked at me. I was not about to let the little slave off the hook. I liked him dangling there at my mercy.

"Answer the master's question, boy," I said, smacking his backside.

Alex turned his attention to Wim once more, and spoke in a soft, quiet voice, which again reminded me of just how young he was. "I don't know anything about hunting, sir. What would I have to do? I mean, I won't have to kill anything, will I?"

Wim and I both laughed at the boy's innocent questions, that is until our host's expression suddenly cooled and that wicked gleam I'd seen so often from Robert filled his eyes. "Oh, you won't be one of the hunters, dear boy," he said, moving forward and gently touching his fingers to Alex' cheek. "We have a special role for you."

Always bright and perceptive, Alex needed no further hints as to his fate. I wasn't sure what to expect of him at that moment, but he turned to me with brave determination in his hazel eyes. I put my hands on his shoulders and gazed down at him. I knew by his expression that it was now his turn not to let me off the hook. He was not going to volunteer. He was going to force me to make him do it.

Our eyes locked for what seemed the longest time. All the complexity of our relationship was laid bare for us in that moment. All the love, all the pleasure, all the compassion, all the hate, all the pain, all the indifference. And in the end, Alex was my slave. That was all that really mattered anymore.

"You will do it," I said coldly.

"I will do it," he replied the same.

"Then come with me," Wim said. "We had best get you ready. Have you eaten?" His question was directed at Alex.

"Yes, sir."

"Not much I hope."

Alex actually glared at me. It was playful, but a glare nonetheless. "No, sir. My master has not fed me much today."

"Just as it should be, little colt."

Wim lead us back to the large pavilion where we had first met his acquaintance. A quintet of naked slaves was busily erecting a low stage for the evening's festivities, and tomorrow's auction. I realized these five young men were the same ones I saw chained to the walls of the carriage house. They were collared and shackled in iron, and each wore a particularly nasty chastity belt around their waists. Our new friend Bartholomew was supervising them under his skillful whip.

Alex stared at the scene in quiet wonder, and again I could see the wheels turning in his head.

"My animals," Wim said nonchalantly.

They were impressive specimens. Two were just teenagers. Three were young men in their early twenties. All were lean and wiry and all were utterly hairless, even their heads had been clean-shaven. Iron bits were in their mouths, held in place by leather harnesses. The only sounds they made were the grunts and groans of straining muscles, and the occasional cry of protest when Bartholomew laid into them for not working up to his exacting standards.

Alex' hand found mine and he tapped gently to get my attention.

"I'm getting an erection, sir," he whispered.

Wim noticed the boy's excited state instantly. "So, you like what you're seeing do you? Perhaps next summer, once you've put on a bit more muscle, your master will let you spend a month in my stables. You'd be treated just as they are. Worked all day, tortured all night, and we'd train that cock of yours to stay soft. You'd like that wouldn't you, boy?"

Alex didn't dare to answer, but his throbbing cock made his feelings abundantly clear.

Our host eyed me with deep sincerity. "I would pay handsomely for the boy's services, Steven. For as long or as short a term as you wish."

Sell my boy to another? Even if just temporarily. The thought had never occurred to me until that moment, but the idea of my sweet young Alex toiling like an animal for another master had just planted itself irrevocably into my head. Alex and I shared a knowing glance, and we both knew it was going to be inevitable.

"He'll get a small taste of it tonight," Wim went on as he gestured me to a wooden chair. Alex remained standing.

Bartholomew left his boys to their labors and approached us with his warm and friendly smile. I noticed Alex stood up a little taller and straighter in his presence.

"Back on your feet already, Alex?" the old man asked with a wink. "I must be getting soft in my old age. You on the other hand 3;" he reached out and playfully stroked the boy's cock.

"Don't encourage him, Master Bartholomew," I said. "Alex has to learn to control himself."

Bartholomew's eyes lit up and he put a hand firmly under the boy's chin. "Are you going to be punished for being hard in front of me?"

"Yes, sir," Alex answered. "And for being hard in front of just about everyone else."

Alex said it in all seriousness, but it was of course funny and we all three shared a much-needed laugh. That's the magic of my Alex. Even in our darkest moments, when our respective roles seem like they are about to consume us, he brings light and joy, without even trying. He is special.

"Alex has agreed to be our guest of honor this evening," Wim explained, patting the kid on the shoulder.

"Has he now?" Bartholomew asked, studying the boy with his dark gentle eyes. "You're in for quite a time, young man. Ever been hunting before?"

"No, sir."

"Well, it doesn't really matter. You'll mostly be running. You are a fast runner, aren't you?"

"I think so, sir," Alex said, adding a quiet "I hope so," under his breath.

"Are you plugged?"

"Yes, sir."

"And have you ever run with a plug inside you?"

Alex nodded. "Master makes me run at home, sir. I like the feeling, sir."

Bartholomew tried his best not to smile, but the boy's charm has that inevitable effect on just about everyone. "Well then let's see how well you do."

Alex looked to me for guidance.

"Master Bartholomew's in charge of you for the rest of the day. Obey him." I turned to the seasoned master. "Do whatever you want with him."

Wim later told me he could actually see Alex stagger under that simple, calculated blow. The boy was stunned, and his mouth dropped open. I'd given him over to Robert's care once before, but only briefly. This was a man he hardly knew, and genuinely feared. It did not occur to me then, that even as I stood there, I was once again abandoning him.

Bartholomew took Alexander's leash and pulled him close, staring down into the boy's frightened eyes. "Would you like to finish what we started?"

Alex trembled. "No, sir."

A tender pat on the head. "One day you'll ask for it. Now, show me how fast you can run. Up to the stage and back."

The boy took off as fast as his strong young legs could carry him. There and back in no time.

"Did I tell you to stop?" Bartholomew asked when Alex was standing in front of him again.

"No, sir, you didn't." And he quickly starting running again.

Back and forth. Back and forth. And all the while the slaves busily erected the stage, not once pausing from their labors to watch the naked boy running to and fro. Bartholomew kept the boy occupied that way for a good twenty minutes, often leaving him to whip one of the "animals" into shape. Wim and I sat back and enjoyed a leisurely conversation.

I learned that Joshua was his adopted son, and that Robert had played some role in the affair, on which Wim would not elaborate. Nonetheless I was left with the impression that the boy had been given away by his parents, or perhaps sold. Wim was reluctant to discuss it further, but he did speak of the boy with a certain pride.

"Josh still fights me sometimes," he said, "but he's mostly a good boy. He shouldn't have spoken to Alex that way though."

"Alex seemed rather flattered."

Wim laughed. "Of course he did. Your boy is a natural flirt, Steven. Nevertheless, Joshua is too young to address another man's slave in such a crude manner. He will be severely punished, rest assured."

That of course, was something I would have dearly loved to see.

I left the pavilion for a while after Wim excused himself. Alex saw me go and almost ran after me. He stopped himself with some effort, and my last vision was of him standing before Bartholomew with his hands behind his head listening as the man firmly gave him his latest instructions. Things had grown quiet and few people were about as I walked alone amongst the gardens. It was early evening now, and most of the guests had retired to their rooms in preparation for the night's festivities. I made my way up to the main house, where Thomas and Joshua greeted me. They were both still quite naked and clearly disappointed that Alex was not in my company.

"Dr. Collins is giving a demonstration in the drawing room, sir," Joshua said with knowing eyes.

Drawing room. A word not normally found in a fourteen- year-old's vocabulary, but then I'm sure there were many words young Joshua knew that others his age had never dreamed of using. Of course I remembered Robert mentioning that the good doctor would likely demonstrate his arts today, and I quickly had Thomas show me in.

Immediately I felt as if I had entered some bizarre science fiction film. Surrounded by the dark paneling and exquisite antiques of a by-gone age, there was, in the very center of the room, a metal-framed examination chair padded in leather and lit by four harsh overhead spotlights on all sides. I recognized its diminutive occupant immediately.

Young Sebastian was strapped down tightly, his arms at his side, his legs spread wide. The boy's head was immobilized by a cruel harness, and he was gagged, muzzled to be precise. The bright light against his pale skin made him appear to be glowing. His slender young body already had a sheen of sweat from the lamps, which glistened as his master began the lecture. Samuel Collins was in his white lab coat, every bit as formidable on him as black leather would be on another.

There was not an empty seat to be had, so I accepted standing room at the rear, which still afforded me an excellent view.

"Gentlemen," Collins began, "You are all no doubt aware that the area of skin between the anus and the base of the scrotum is highly erogenous, especially in the young." He then moved his right hand between Sebastian's legs and ran a single finger gently along the area in question. Sebastian jerked helplessly in his bonds and let out a high-pitched squeal. "As you will notice as I continue, the subject is becoming aroused."

The eleven-year-old's penis was swelling in a futile attempt to erect itself, permanently held down against his balls by the chastity ring. Seb wiggled and moaned as the pleasure washed over him.

"Were it not for the ring," the doctor continued, "the subject would be fully erect at this moment."

The audience hummed and nodded their agreement.

"Today you will witness a perineal piercing." He then held up a thick stainless steel ring, nearly two inches [5 cm] in diameter. "As you can see the ring is quite large. Once in place, it will provide an excellent point for restraining the subject. Its conductive properties will also allow for 3; stimulation 3; of certain regions of the body."

Murmurs and wicked laughter filled the room.

"Further its diameter will help ensure a proper standing posture. The subject will be unable to close his legs henceforth."

Laying the ring aside, Sam rolled a tray of supplies near the chair and picked up a long and rather intimidating needle.

"As you know, the subject is normally not anesthetized for piercings, but this is an extremely delicate and painful procedure, and I do not want him moving any more than is necessary. Thus a local anesthetic will be used."

Without further explanation, the doctor inserted the needle into the boy's abdomen. Sebastian offered no reaction. I imagined he was quite accustomed to being poked and prodded after all these years. Several minutes were allowed to pass before Sam selected a small clamp and a much larger and thicker needle from his collection.

The clamp was placed, eliciting a soft cry from the young patient.

"As you can see, the subject does still have some sensation."

The piercing needle came next. Sebastian gasped sharply but made no further sounds. His master applied thick soft gauze to stem what bleeding there was. Then he carefully inserted the ring and locked the clasp. A soldering iron came next, making the boy's latest modification permanent. We were all invited to step forward and take a closer look.

Sebastian lay there motionless, wiggling just his fingers and his toes, his green eyes gazing off into an unseen distance. Samuel gently turned the new ring, and applied a disinfecting cream between the boy's legs. A question was asked about infections in such a sensitive area.

"Regular antiseptic cleanings and no restrictive clothing for two weeks until it has fully healed. Then normal hygiene will suffice."

Everyone had their turn to inspect the boy close up. I noticed no one touched his cock or his balls. Young Seb was well known here, naturally, and no hand but that of his master ever dared touch him there.

"Your thoughts, Steven?" he inquired as the others began to talk amongst themselves.

"I'm a bit speechless."

"Modification is not for everyone. I understand completely."

"Sebastian seems to be in heaven though," I observed, for it was certainly true. The look in his eyes was priceless.

"I'd been promising him something special for quite a while, something no other boy has."

"It's certainly unique."

The boy's eyes smiled at me, and he promptly fell asleep.

I returned to the pavilion to find my Alex hard at work with the other slaves putting the finishing touches on the stage. The boy was sweaty and quite dirty. He paused and looked at me expectantly when he saw me enter.

"Keep working, Lexi," I said as I walked by.

Bartholomew greeted me with a casual smile. "Alex is a good little worker," he said, holding up a riding crop. "I've only had to use this on him twice. And once I confess was just for fun."

"As long as he's been behaving himself."

"He most certainly has. And we're just about ready. Alex, over here please. Now."

Alex immediately and literally dropped what he was doing and trotted over to us, the leash dangling from his collar, his young cock flopping between his legs.

"Any erections while I was gone?" I asked him, running my hands over his stomach.

"No, sir," he said without a smile. "I was a good boy."

I kissed him on the forehead, and for just an instant he moved as if he were about to hug me, but he stopped himself and stood as straight and tall as his five-foot [1.50 m] frame would allow.

"There's really nothing more to be done for now," Bartholomew told us as the first guests began to filter in to the pavilion, filling the seats nearest the stage. "Please remove Alexander's leash."

I did as instructed, getting a good whiff of my smelly boy as I unclasped the chain from his collar. I rolled it up and put it in my pocket for later.

"A place has been reserved for you, Steven," Bartholomew said, pointing to a front row chair by the aisle. "The boy will stand."

And stand Alex did, for nearly an hour while the gathering slowly came together. I had to remind him to stay in position with an occasional slap on the behind. His head was bowed, always a sign that he was tired, or nervous, or uncomfortable, and I'm sure this time it was a combination of all three.

"Keep your eyes forward, boy," I said, slapping his ass again.

He made a half-hearted effort to comply then turned his head just a bit to look at me. It was becoming too much for him. I could see it in his eyes.

"It's alright," I whispered. "You can put your head down if you need to. I know it's hard to have everyone looking at you."

"Thanks, Steve," he whispered back and quickly focused his eyes on the ground again.

I rubbed the backs of his thighs, smooth and silken. He sighed contentedly.

"That feels nice."

"Keep your voice down, Alex."

"Sorry."

"It's ok," I said softly. "We can talk, but we shouldn't let the others hear us."

"Gotcha. What should we talk about?"

"You, silly. Are you doing ok?"

There was a pause before he answered. "I guess."

"Still scared?"

"Uh-huh. This isn't like when it's just us at home 3; or even when we're with Master Robert. There's so many people here. It's hard."

"I know. You're doing great though. Everyone loves you."

He wiggled his hips a bit to make his cock and balls flap around. Then he snickered under his breath. "Lots of me to love!"

"You little slut."

"You big pervert."

I put my arm around his waist and pulled him close for moment. He was back in position before anyone even noticed.

"It's harder than I thought," he whispered. "Being naked in front of everybody. I don't like it when they touch me."

"Your dick seems to."

Alex didn't have an answer for that and we spent the next few minutes in silence, until Wim took the stage to kick off the night's festivities. As he welcomed us, I saw Samuel and Robert come in, with Sebastian and Michael trailing close behind. Mike looked very tired and rather worse for wear. It seemed as if Robert had been going rather rough with him these last few hours. Sebastian, wearing just a long black T-shirt, walked awkwardly behind his master. He was grimacing with each step, still growing accustomed to the new jewelry between his legs.

After a few brief words, Wim turned his attention to me. "We do have some newcomers with us this evening, friends of Master Robert's. I'm sure most of you have already met them, but it is only appropriate they be formally introduced. Master Steven, would you and Alex join me please."

I got up and patted Alex on the butt. He fell in step behind me. I could hear the light padding of his bare feet as we made our way to the stage. Once there I grasped his wrist and pulled him in front of me. The slender thirteen- year-old shuffled nervously toward our host.

"Turn and face everyone, boy," Wim said in a low voice.

Without hesitation, Alex obeyed.

"Alex, stand," I ordered.

He spread his trembling legs and clasped his hands behind his head. I could see his chest rising and falling in quick breaths.

"A fine young slave, wouldn't you all agree?" Wim asked, stirring murmurs of approval from the others. "Turn round, boy, let them see all of you."

Alex turned to the left in a slow circle, and gentle tap on the thigh from Wim's crop was his command to stop.

"May I ask your boy some questions, master?" Wim inquired of me.

"Certainly."

"How old are you, Alex?"

"I'm thirteen, sir," my sweet boy said in a small, private voice.

This time it was my hand on his thigh, hard and swift. "Speak up, Alex. No one can hear you."

"I'm thirteen, sir," he said over the crowd, his voice breaking just slightly.

"And how long have you been a slave?"

"Two months, sir," the boy replied sharply.

"Are you a good boy?"

"Most of the time, sir."

Wim and I shared a smile.

"Do you ejaculate?"

"Only if I have my master's permission, sir."

Wim moved close to the boy's ear and ran his hand down Alex' back. "Only then?" he asked with ice in his voice.

Alex shivered. "Well 3; I mean 3; no, sir. Sometimes I'm bad."

"And you make yourself cum?"

"Yes, sir."

"You're getting hard, boy."

He was.

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir."

"And are you allowed to have erections like that?"

"No, sir."

"What happens to you when you do?"

"I get punished, sir."

Alex was shaking like a leaf, but his raging hard-on was already leaking.

"And who punishes you?"

"My master, sir."

"How?" Wim continued the inquisition.

"He spanks me, sir."

"I see," was Wim's cold reply.

A chair was then brought onto the stage by young Joshua. The boy wore a tight latex jock, which did nothing to hide his own erection. That and his studded collar were the only items upon his lean and hairless body. Wim gave his son a gentle kiss on the lips before ushering the boy away. He then bore his eyes into Alexander.

"Do you deserve a spanking right now?"

Alex was savvy enough to know the answer to that one. "Yes, sir."

I sat down and called him over to me. A public spanking. Alex' face was already red, his eyes already moist when I put him over my knees.

"Count out loud, Lexi, so everyone hears you."

"Yes, master."

My hand sufficed for the first fifty. Then Joshua returned with a paddle in his hands and a wicked grin on his face. I picked up the wooden enforcer, noticing the holes drilled in its surface and the name "Joshie" burned onto the handle. By its well-worn appearance, I could tell it was quite well acquainted with the fourteen-year-old's cute bottom.

Alex stopped counting and started screaming after twenty or so blows. I continued until his rear end was a nice shade of purple and the first dark bruises began to appear.

"Stand up."

With some effort he did so. Worse for him, he would later tell me, was having to turn and face everyone with tears running down his cheeks. His erection was gone.

"Thank you, master, for spanking me," he said quietly.

"Anytime, Lexi."

Bartholomew joined us on stage, and I knew the time had come. There was a certain electricity in the air. Everyone could feel it, especially Alex, who still did not know exactly what was in store for him. Come to think of it, neither did I. Wim raised his hands for silence.

"Alex here has graciously 3; volunteered 3; to be our most special guest this evening. Would those of you who drew the winning numbers please come forward."

Ten masters left their seats and their slaves and took the stage. Alex and I had met a few of them during the day, but they were all still mostly unfamiliar. I felt Alex shrink and saw him shudder, and he suddenly seemed like a little boy again, standing there naked surrounded by grown men, masters all.

"If you would be so kind as to remove the boy's plug, master," Bartholomew said to me.

I bent Alex over, holding him down with a hand upon his back, and pulled the metal plug out of him without ceremony. They boy shrieked and danced on his bare feet. Bartholomew then presented me with another plug, quite large to ensure that it would not fall out when the boy was running. It ended with a long tail of red fur. Fox. How fitting.

"This is going to hurt going in, honey," I told him. "And even more coming out."

"I'm ready, master." And he relaxed and opened himself for me as best he could.

With some effort and more than a few tears on the boy's part, I managed to get it seated inside him. The fox tail hung between his smooth hairless legs. Alex looked positively adorable with it sticking out of his ass.

Wim gestured to me silently and I took his meaning clearly.

"On your knees, Alex," I said.

The boy knelt before us all, his head bowed. Was it out of fear? Out of shame? Was he simply into his role as was so often the case? There was no time to consider his thoughts. Joshua appeared again, with Thomas beside him, and four large black hounds on chain leashes.

I suppose I never mentioned that Alex is terrified of dogs. But he is. Always has been. Had I known they were a part of the plan, I honestly never would have agreed to let them do this to him.

"Listen carefully, Alex," the voice of Bartholomew was soft and friendly, as it always seemed to be just before he engaged in unspeakable cruelty. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, boy."

Alex raised his head. It was the first time Bartholomew had called him by anything other than his name. "You are going to be hunted, just like a dirty little animal. You will not be bound. You will have your arms and legs, your hands and feet. And of course your head. Use it. Your only job is to find your way back here, to your master."

My boy's eyes widened in panic.

"If you get to him, before one of us gets to you, you win. If one of us catches you first, you lose. Those are the only two things that will end the hunt. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Large nets were brought out, and thick ropes, and each master was also given an electric prod.

"If another master catches you, you become his property for the rest of the evening. Of course he will not be permitted to inflict any permanent damage, but he may do as he pleases with you, and you will obey and serve him."

Alex nodded that he understood.

"Bring the dogs."

Joshua and Thomas led the dogs forward, and brought them to a stop growling in front of Alex. The canines moved in close and sniffed the boy, nearly knocking him over. They were huge, fully-grown animals, and just one of them alone would be enough to overpower a thirteen-year-old boy.

Everyone did take momentary pause at the genuine terror in the boy's eyes. Bartholomew knelt down and ran his fingers through Alex' hair.

"Afraid of dogs?"

Alex nodded, unable to stop shaking.

"All the more reason to run fast. They are trained not to bite. But they are trained to chase, and they will get their paws into you if they catch you. There are woods behind the pavilion. You might be able to hide from us there, for a while. Thomas and Joshua will hold their leashes for sixty seconds. Once they're unleashed, we all follow. They've got your scent now. I'd start running if I were you."

Bartholomew handed me his prod. I knew what was expected. The look Alex gave me chilled my heart. I pressed the prod into his thigh and heard the crackle of electricity. The boy yelped.

"Run, Alex."

He scrambled to his feet, jumped off the stage and ran out of the pavilion, turning right and then making a sharp left, redirecting himself toward the woods. And like that he was gone. Sixty seconds later, so were the hounds.

To this day Alex never talks about the hunt.

I stood outside the pavilion waiting for him, part of me hoping he would return safely to my arms, another part highly aroused at the prospects of what would happen if he didn't. I could see them in the woods, see the lights from their flashlights, and hear their taunting calls. Once or twice I heard one of the hounds growl or bark. And I did catch a glimpse of Alex once, right at the edge of the tree- line where the floodlights from the gardens washed the woods in a soft artificial daylight. He was crouching there against a tree, shaking and exhausted and less than twenty- five yards away. Our eyes met for just an instant, and I called to him. I couldn't help myself.

Alex drew himself awkwardly to his feet. I smiled at him. He'd made it. Just one more short sprint across the grass and it would be over. The boy stared at me in silence for what seemed an eternity. And then he did something I never could have imagined he'd do. Something he has never explained to me, ever. He turned his back on me, and ran back into the woods.

Forty-five minutes later, it was indeed over. A master I had not yet met returned, dragging Alex roughly behind him. My boy's hands were tied tightly and painfully behind his back, and a long rope had been looped around his neck to serve as a leash. The boy's body was covered in cuts and scratches from his time spent naked in the woods, and he walked gingerly on bare feet that were sore and bruised from tripping over rocks and roots in the dark. He stared at me for a moment, then just as quickly turned his hazel eyes away.

"Congratulations, Master Vincent," Wim said as the man came to stop before us, pulling Alex close to him. Joshua and Thomas we sent running to retrieve the dogs and let the other master's know the hunt was over. Alex had lost. And some small part of me, one I did not want to acknowledge, knew he'd done it on purpose.

But just as I have learned that I have a certain power to hurt him, Alex knows he has the power to hurt me in return.

He would not look at me as he stood there, battered and exhausted from the nightmarish chase that had lasted nearly two hours. A chase he could have ended, and didn't. And now we would both pay a price for it at the hands of a man neither of us even knew.

Had it been Robert, or Samuel, or even Bartholomew, perhaps it would not have seemed so awful. Not that there was anything overtly sinister about this Vincent. I'd noticed him earlier. Younger like myself, with a handsome slave just out of his teens. He'd done nothing to indicate that he might not be trustworthy, but I could tell by his posture, and the way he had my boy tied, that he was likely a rough and stern master. And of course there was the simple fact that he did not love Alex. He did not know what makes my boy happy, what makes him sad, what makes him smile, and what really and truly hurts him. How could I just let this man take him for the night?

Vincent extended his hand to me as the other masters gathered round, all quite disappointed in the outcome and quite jealous of the winner's luck, or skill. His grip was strong and sure.

"Quite a boy you have here, Master Steven," he said in a soft voice.

I had no argument there. Alex still would not raise his head.

Vincent turned the boy round so I could see his backside. There between his shoulders was a livid scratch, bruised around the edges. The mark was unmistakable. "Mayday had his paws into him when I found them. It's a good thing the boy was plugged or we'd still be trying to get them apart."

That was a vision I quickly ushered from my mind, but of course, it kept coming back in spite of my best efforts, as all my visions of Alex in unspeakable torment often did.

I had to force myself to focus on Wim as he quietly explained the rules. "Vincent, the boy is yours until midnight. You may do as you wish with him. Steven, you cannot interfere."

I nodded that I understood.

Wim continued addressing the victor, as Alex stood straight and still and quiet beside him, the wiggling of his toes the only movement he made. "You are strictly forbidden to do anything that might cause lasting injury. Alex has a safeword. You will respect it."

"Of course," the young master said, looking at me with surprisingly gentle eyes. "Still, I would very much like to hear him scream."

I couldn't help but smile, even as my heart raced in my chest. "He'll scream beautifully for you." Alex raised his head for just a second and gave me a vacant stare. Then he lowered his chin to his chest once more.

"I'm sure he will."

"At midnight," Wim continued, "you will return the boy to his master," and he handed Vincent a card that certainly had my room on it.

Vincent then turned his eyes to me. "Master, I will release my claim on him if you wish."

It was the gesture I'd been told to expect should Alex get himself caught, and it was given with all sincerity. I almost took it without a second thought. But I didn't. Instead I stood in front of Alex and studied this boy I'd always thought I knew so well. He was filthy and utterly spent, his rapid breathing the only visible sign that he was currently terrified. With a hand under his chin I forced him to look at me.

He was angry. Angry at me for leaving him alone most of the afternoon, for putting him on display when I knew he hated it, most of all for making him do this, for the dogs, for the chase, for just about everything else he could think of in that moment.

In the lowest, softest voice I'd ever heard him use, Alex spoke just two words to me.

"Fuck you."

If it was his intention to make me angry in return, it worked. I took his leash from my pocket and handed it to Vincent. "Take him."

And he did. Roughly. Alex stumbled along behind, and I watched until they disappeared into the house. Wim's hand found my shoulder.

"I've known Vince since he was Joshua's age. Perfectly safe. Make no mistake, he will be very hard on Alex. Expect quite a few bruises when you get him back, but your boy likes being knocked around doesn't he?"

"Yes, he does. And sometimes he hits back."

Wim looked at me with warm and perceptive eyes. "Are you two fighting?"

"No. He's just sending me a message. If you don't mind, I need some time to myself."

"Certainly." Our host excused himself with his usual formal style.

Alone, I returned to our empty room in the carriage house, nothing left to do but watch the clock and wonder what was going on in the main house, as the lights from its many windows shone toward me across the manicured lawn.

I'd stretched out on the sofa and was already half- asleep when Robert and Samuel let themselves in. They were both dressed in worn comfortable jeans and denim shirts. Michael was as well, looking quite handsome with his blond hair swept back. Young Sebastian was still in his black T- shirt, and now he also had a silken pair of black soccer shorts around his waist, loose-fitting so as not to irritate the freshly pierced flesh between his legs.

"I believe there is the little matter of our wager, Sam," Robert said, clearly concluding a conversation from outside.

With a frown and a sigh, the doctor reached into his back pocket and pulled out a substantial roll of bills which quickly found its way into Robert's hands.

"I'd have bet a hundred times he was a winner," Collins said with certain disappointment in his voice. Robert only laughed.

"You bet against Alex?" I asked in mock disdain.

"Turned out to be the smart one, didn't I?" Robert

replied with his typical biting sarcasm.

My friends made themselves comfortable while young Sebastian was sent to the bar to make drinks for everyone.

"Kid makes a mean martini," Samuel said to me as I watched the redheaded eleven-year-old pouring and shaking and plopping olives into the glasses. "Sure you won't have one?"

I certainly could have used one at that moment, but that kind of stuff was off limits, for my own sake, and for Alex. "Iced tea will be fine," I replied.

Sam nodded, and his eyes told me he understood. I know Robert hadn't said anything about the problems of my youth, it is not his way to share secrets, but Samuel Collins is a rather perceptive character.

"It doesn't mean I can't enjoy watching our little bartender though," I offered with a laugh. It was after all an incredibly adorable scene. The little guy was too short and had to kneel on one of the stools in order to reach the counter. He wiggled his bare toes and hummed a little song to himself while he worked. It sounded classical.

"Brahms," Sam proclaimed in answer to my unvoiced question. "I think. He knows them better than I do. Brahms?" he called out.

"Yes, master," Sebastian replied without turning from his duties. He resumed his little one boy symphony without missing a note.

"Is that all he's listening to these days?" Robert asked with a chuckle as he sat down beside me, pulling Michael onto the cushion next to him.

"No. I'm sorry to say he's discovered rock. Or what passes for it these days. I had to wash his mouth out last week for singing some lyrics I did not approve of."

Somehow I imagined that the classic boyhood punishment took on some wicked twists under Samuel Collins' direction. He smiled at me.

"It was just a bar of Ivory, Steven. Honestly, you must think I'm some sort of monster. Of course he was strapped down at the time, and it was in his mouth for about three hours. You won't be singing that song again, will you, boy?"

"No, sir," the redhead called back, just now placing the glasses on a silver tray. Sebastian then walked toward us, expertly balancing it with one hand. He held the tray down to me with a bright smile and I took my tea.

"Thank you, Sebastian."

"My pleasure, sir."

He served everyone, then stood in front of Samuel with the tray tucked neatly under his arm.

"May I have a Pepsi, master?" he asked.

"Do you think you've been good today?" came the playful reply.

Little four-foot [1.20 m] Seb stood tall. "Very good, sir."

"Alright. Just one. No refills."

"Yes, sir!" And the boy scurried off to the bar once more.

"Too much sugar makes him jumpy," Sam explained. "But he's earned a special treat today."

"How's his 3; "

"Healing nicely already."

Robert laid a hand on my knee as Sebastian toddled back and sat down gingerly at his master's feet, being sure to place his aluminum can on a coaster. That boy is almost too mannerly. It is rather disconcerting at times.

"Wim told us you had come back here," Robert said. "Are you having a hard time with this?"

I nodded, but of course Robert as yet had no clue as to the real reason.

"I'm surprised Alex was caught," Sam offered, almost consoling me it seemed. "Perhaps Bartholomew wore him out a bit more than he was letting on."

"No," I said, sipping my tea. "He let himself get caught. He's trying to teach me a lesson."

Robert shook his head and grinned. "I was sure he'd do something like this sooner or later. He likes to push people's buttons, yours especially."

"He's very good at it."

"Masterful, I would say. But I'm afraid he has bitten off a bit more than he bargained for with Vincent."

I was about to get to my feet and run off to find him, such was Robert's tone, but my friend and mentor held me back. "Don't misread me, Steven. Vincent is trustworthy. He would never truly harm anyone. But he is also very cruel and very harsh, and not nearly so patient and tolerant as I am."

Michael laughed in spite of himself.

"You will pay for that, dear boy," Robert said, smacking the eighteen-year-old on the thigh.

"Vincent plays rather rough. Alex is not used to that. The boy is having a difficult time right now, rest assured, and no doubt regretting his decision."

"Do we go forward with our plans?" Samuel asked, "when the boy returns."

I had to think about it, but not for long. "We do."

At exactly midnight, there was a knock at the door. I was the only one wide-awake. Sebastian lay curled up in Samuel's arms as they both lay snoring across the sofa. Robert had taken Michael into the bedroom hours ago for a good hard fuck and neither of them had come back out. Seb cracked his eyes open as I walked by. The knock came again.

"Why don't you get everyone up, sweetheart?" I said to him softly. He yawned and stretched and nodded his cute little red head.

I opened the door, and there was Vincent with a rather satisfied look on his face. Alex lay at his feet, tightly and rather brutally hog-tied, a cum-soaked cloth rag in his mouth to gag him. I noticed fresh welts and bruises on his back and thighs. Lots of them. And there was a single red rose sticking out of his butt.

Vincent smiled at me. "Alex has a great little ass, master. And he does scream beautifully."

"Did he behave himself?"

"Not at first, but we came to an understanding, didn't we, boy?"

He kicked Alex in the ribs. Not a real kick. Just a soft little touch of his booted foot. Alex moaned softly and nodded his head.

"Don't suppose he's for sale?" I saw the wink in Vincent's eyes. Alex of course did not. He moaned again and bucked in his tight and merciless bonds.

"Afraid not," I said, after allowing a bit of silence to make the boy worry.

"Well, I had to ask. See you around kid."

And with that he turned and walked away.

By now Robert and Sam had made their way toward the door. Together we lifted Alex off the floor and deposited the naked boy in the center of the room. He struggled for a moment, his calculated show of distress. Then he lifted his head, with some real difficulty, and gave me that look I'd come to know so well. The one that said, 'I'm done. You can untie me now.'

I knelt down and pressed my fingers into the sticky rag that filled his mouth. It was tied tightly behind his head.

"Yours or his?" I asked as I wiped the spent cum on his forehead.

He jerked sharply and glared at me. "mmmph."

Reading my thoughts I heard Robert whisper to Michael. "Bring Master Steven a cane. If you choose one not to my liking, I will thrash you to a bloody pulp."

The young man's face paled, and he gazed down at Alex, lying there bound and momentarily motionless. It was not difficult to tell what was in his heart, but, as always, he did as ordered. And as always, I noticed his selection was rather harsh. A long thick cane with a steel tip. I wondered. Was it his fear of Robert's threats, or something else that led him to show those flashes of cruelty whenever Alex was concerned?

"Perhaps that one would be a little too effective, Michael," his master whispered softly.

Standing as they were behind him, Alex could not see the evil implement of torture in his dear sweet Michael's hands.

"I 3; I'd like to see what it does to him, sir." It was the first time Mike had ever professed a desire to cause Alex pain. Alex heard those cold words, uttered by a young man he deeply loved and admired, and pressed his head into the antique Persian rug on which he lay.

Robert looked at me. I nodded. "But Michael must do it himself."

"I think that was the idea, Steven."

Michael stood over the boy and swung the cane a few times to get the proper mechanics. "Where, sir?" he asked me.

Tied as he was, the soles of Alex' feet were vulnerable and defenseless. Pale and soft. "His feet," I said.

"Mmmph! Mmmph!" Alex fought desperately to free himself, only straining his stretched and aching muscles that much more.

"Alex."

He was rubbing his wrists raw.

"Alex!" I shouted at him, which I rarely ever do. "Be still!"

Finally I had to kneel in front of him again, and take his head between my hands.

"Look at me."

He did, with venom in his eyes.

"You're being punished. I think you know why."

He closed his eyes in that smug manner thirteen-year- olds master so well.

"Look at me."

He did. Tears were coming now. I reached behind his head and untied the cloth.

"Who's sperm is this?" I asked him gently.

His face flushed with guilt. "It's mine, sir."

"So you enjoyed yourself then."

"No, sir." There was no doubting the sincerity of his denial. "He made me cum, sir."

"How many times?"

"Until it started to hurt, sir."

I stuffed the rag back into the boy's mouth. "Can you snap your fingers."

With a frightened whimper he nodded and demonstrated that he could.

"Snap them twice if you need to take a break," I told him. "But we decide when you're finished. This is punishment, Alex, not play. It's time you learned the difference."

He closed his eyes and turned his head away from me.

"Ten strokes, please," I ordered.

Michael drew the heavy cane back and brought it down sharply. It made a low whistle as it cut through the air. The sound that came when it hit the boy's feet was hard to describe. Somewhere between a crack and a thud.

Alex shrieked into his gag and balled his hands into fists. Already a livid red welt crossed his right foot where the cane had struck. Michael did it again. Alex howled and choked back a sob. Then another blow, this one landing on both feet at once.

Alex snapped his fingers.

Michael stopped, but did not put the cane down. We gave the boy several minutes to recover as we all stood over him. Sebastian was utterly fascinated and reached his hand out to touch Alexander's feet. Dr. Collins took his wrist and gently pulled him away.

I nodded to Michael and he began again. He was crying, but he delivered three more strokes with expert precision. Alex was beside himself. Mike raised the cane again, determined to carry out the boy's sentence. Samuel's hand stopped him.

"I think he's had enough," he said softly. "Any more, and nerve damage becomes a possibility. Besides, I have a better idea." He whispered something to Sebastian and the redheaded boy quickly scurried off toward the armoire, returning with five long black feathers, handing one to each of us with a deliciously evil smile on his face.

With the gentlest touch, I ran the feather across my boy's right foot. Alex jerked wildly.

Receiving encouragement from his master, Sebastian did the same with the helpless left foot in front of him. Alex took in a sharp breath and tried to roll onto his side. Robert's boot between his shoulder blades pinned him down quickly.

"Don't move, slave," Robert hissed sharply.

Sebastian and I continued with the boy's feet. Samuel and Michael knelt down and worked their feathers up and down the boy's sides, concentrating on his ribs where he was most ticklish. Hog-tied and gagged, and pinned by Robert's pressing weight, Alex had no hope of defending himself against this assault. He howled and cried and struggled like a little madman, only to receive further torment for his efforts.

We tortured him with the feathers for thirty minutes. Alex was breathless and in hysterics when we finally stopped. He whined plaintively when he discovered he was not about to be untied. We busied ourselves in the little kitchenette, preparing a late snack. Young Sebastian yawned, causing us all to do so, but a bit of food and drink would help restore our energy. I walked over to where Alex lay moaning quietly to himself. I forced open the boy's clenched fists and placed a large bowl of popcorn in his bound hands.

"If you move, or let any spill, we'll tickle you again."

Surrounding our living table, we ate and talked, and Seb even proudly showed us his newest ring. I would learn it never took much encouragement for that boy to take his pants off, and they did not go back on. He was adorable in just his long black T-shirt, sitting beside Alex with his slender legs folded beneath him, cruelly resting his cold can of soda between Alex' shoulders.

Alex jumped when Seb did that, and several pieces of popcorn left the shaking bowl.

"He spilled some, sir!" the eleven-year-old was quick to point out.

Youthful Michael, not so effected by the late hour, took the bowl away, grabbed his feather and tormented Alex with it for another half-hour, even rolling the boy onto his side and tickling his belly button. Alex had reached the point where he could almost sense an impending tickle. He flinched each time, before the feather even touched him, and sobbed miserably whenever he was given a brief moment to catch his breath.

Seb soon joined in, laughing joyously. A little boy's laugh. It was endearing to hear, and interesting to know it came at the anguish and misery of another boy not much older than he was.

Robert, Sam, and I simply sat back and watched, rather amazed at how quickly the two young slaves had formed a team and the sheer delight they both seemed to be taking in the torture of my Alex.

Finally, when Alex was showing the first signs of real distress, they both stopped. They gently rubbed the boy's aching shoulders. It was a touching scene, and I let it go for a few minutes.

"Leave him be," I finally told them.

Immediately they stood up. The bulge in Michael's jeans was obvious, and by the uncomfortable way Seb was prancing around, it was clear his little cock was trying its best to get hard.

"Show me, Seb," Sam Collins ordered.

The eleven-year-old lifted his shirt. Sure enough his little organ was swollen and straining against the ring that kept it down between his legs. With a warm smile, the doctor gestured the boy close.

"Hold still." And with great care he worked the ring free of the boy's scrotum. Seb sighed and moaned in delight as his penis instantly stood straight up, four cute little inches [10 cm] of boyflesh. Rare was the time, over the next several days, when Sebastian wasn't walking around proudly sporting an erection.

"No touching," Sam warned.

Sebastian nodded and threw his slender arms around his master's waist.

"I remember when you used to get hard like that, Michael," Robert said with a warm smile.

"I was never that young, sir," Mike replied, adjusting the hard cock in his pants.

"No, I suppose you weren't."

Over the years I've learned more and more about Michael, and how horrible his life had been before Robert took him in at age fifteen. He was not joking about never being as young as Sebastian, for his childhood had been filled with nothing but pain and abuse and hardship. 'This is the childhood I missed out on, right now,' he told me once during a private moment as he gazed at his master with loving eyes.

The two of them embraced, and Robert worked his hands inside Michael's jeans. "I haven't been taking enough care of this lately, Mike," he said softly. "I am sorry."

Care of course likely meant having it whipped or cruelly milked, anything but what most would call pleasure. Nevertheless Michael smiled and rested his head on Robert's shoulder.

I gazed down at Alex. He was lying still and quiet again, wiggling his fingers, which were beginning to take on a rather unhealthy shade. Kneeling down beside him, I kissed him on the head and finally removed Vincent's rose from his ass. I slowly untied his bonds.

"Take it slow, Alex," I told him once I had him freed.

He straightened his slender limbs carefully, and I rubbed his hands to get them warmed up again.

"Stand up."

Slowly he got to his feet, quickly to discover that having your soles beaten has certain long-term effects that are not entirely pleasant. He danced from foot to foot and his eyes watered. His front was bruised almost as terribly as his back. A full day of beatings and discipline had taken a certain toll to be sure. I untied the gag and tossed the wet cloth aside, drawing him forcefully into a close embrace. My boy winced and trembled and tried to pull himself away.

"He whipped you."

Alex hissed as I ran my hands over his shoulders and pressed them firmly into his latest bruises. "Yes, sir."

"Did you deserve it?"

"Yes, sir."

"You misbehaved?"

He nodded slowly, still shifting his weight from one foot to another.

"Tell me."

He looked me in the eyes for the first time. "I wouldn't suck his dick, sir."

"Why not?"

"I don't love him, sir."

That was a dagger meant for my heart, a sign I should have noticed, but it somehow missed, or, more truthfully, I simply allowed it to.

"And so he whipped you."

Again he nodded.

"And did you suck him then?"

Choking back a sob he nodded miserably that he had. Whipped into submission. Something he'd never endured before.

Kissing his neck I whispered in his ear. "Did he fuck you?"

Silence.

"I asked you a question, Alex. Did he fuck you?"

"Yes," he answered, quiet and ashamed.

"Did you enjoy it?"

"No."

I kissed him on the lips, forcing my tongue into his mouth. He pulled against me for a moment, then relaxed, and I felt the familiar light and playful touch of his own tongue dancing with mine. I pushed him away when I felt his cock hardening against my leg.

"Bring me your cuffs and harness. And your belt."

"Yes, sir."

Alex walked off with an uneven gait, favoring his left foot, which seemed to have gotten the worst of the cane. He would not even look at Michael. Cradling everything in his arms, he returned and lay his gear on the floor in front of him. I gestured to my companions. All four of us adults roughly took a slender limb and locked a cuff in place, clicking the padlocks simultaneously. As a further humiliation, we made Alex kneel in front of Sebastian, and we all watched as the younger boy put Alex back into his harness.

I put the belt on him myself. "You won't be needing these for a while," I said, giving his cock and balls a gentle squeeze before locking them in the metal pod once more.

"On your knees, Alex."

He obeyed, and the five of us quickly surrounded him. The realization that he was the only one who was naked struck him instantly. Even Sebastian was as fully dressed as he ever gets.

I gazed over at Michael. We had planned all along for him to start things off and give Alex a glimpse of what the next five days would hold for him. It was a big step for the young man, who had once been Alex himself. He was silent for a moment, staring down at this gentle clever boy he'd somehow managed to fall in love with. We waited, and finally Michael broke the silence. Alex would tell me years later, 'Mike became my master that day.' And it was true. None of us yet saw it, least of all Michael himself, but it was true.

"You are our slave for the next five days, Alex. You will obey any order any of us give you without question. You will be naked. You will be silent. You will be bound. You will be tortured. You will crawl everywhere you are told to go. There will be pain. There will be punishment. You will not sleep. Now, suck my cock."

Alex just stared in horrified shock at Michael whom he so dearly loved. For a moment he looked as if he were about to cry, but then he crawled forward on his hands and knees, opened the young man's jeans with shaking fingers, and took Michael into his mouth.