Date: Fri, 1 Dec 2006 14:06:47 -0800 (PST)
From: Mickey S <njmcmick@yahoo.com>
Subject: Wrong Turn, Chapter 6

If you are under age, or live in an area where reading stories that include
sex between males is illegal, or if you're not into this type of story,
please leave. This is a fictional story that takes place in a world where
everything is safe. In the real world where many things are not, the
characters would take precautions. Please respect yourself and others
enough to always play safe.

If you have read any of my previous stories you will know that I tend to be
a romantic with a bent toward happy endings. This story starts out as a
potential romance but is one that takes a wrong turn, or so it seems. And
as for the ending, you'll just have to read on, but be forewarned that this
is a darker and more sexual story than my usual. The author retains all
rights.  Comments are appreciated at NJMcMick@aol.com.

Chapter 6

I must have been getting used to having my hole stretched and pounded
because I was hardly sore at all Friday morning. I was nearly finished
getting dressed for work when I remembered Carlos' admonition about
freeballing, so I pulled off my pants and removed my boxers. It felt so
odd, hanging free in my slacks, and I was sure it was obvious to anyone who
looked. I was glad I wasn't taking the train into the city, having to put
up with the jostling crowds. That, combined with the feel of the soft
material of my pants would have kept me hard the whole commute. Of course,
it was just as bad once I'd parked in a garage near the bank and walked to
the office. The thought of only one thin layer of material between my
shaved crotch and my coworkers and somebody noticing was a bit of a
turn-on. And the more turned on I was, the more likely someone would
notice. It was that puzzling mixture of fear and excitement that made me
decide to spend as much of the day as possible in my office, seated behind
my desk.

Of course Carlos had to check to make sure I was following orders when I
met him in the men's room for his mid-morning blowjob. Usually he left as
soon as I'd sucked him dry, allowing me to jerk off in the booth, assuming
we hadn't been interrupted by then, that is. About once a week the
squeaking outer door warned us of impending company and I had to scurry
into the stall while he turned toward the urinal, and that was it for our
fun. But this time we had plenty of time to finish and he had me stand and
unzip my fly. He reached in, pulled out my rock hard woodie and stroked it
a few times. He smiled, put it away and gestured toward the door.

"After you, sir."

"Um, I think I'd better wash up a little. Why don't you go on?"

He smirked. "You think I don't know that you beat off as soon as I leave
here every day? I can keep an eye on this door while waiting for the
elevator and you're always in here quite a while after I leave. But today
I'm not giving you a chance to cum, now or later. So get your white ass
back to your office."

"But anyone can see how hard I am!"

"And if I let you jerk off you'll probably leave cum drips all over your
pants which would look even more incriminating. So I'm doing you a favor by
not letting you come."

I turned toward the door, resigned to going out into the office hard,
trying to think of something disgusting to turn myself off. As I put my
hand on the door, however, Carlos came up behind me, wrapped his arms
around me and caressed my package while pressing his still swollen crotch
into my butt. My erection was now not only hard as steel but it was
starting to drool precum. I knew that I was going to have a big wet spot on
my light gray slacks as I walked through the office. And with the tent
preceding me, there's no way anyone would believe it was just the last
couple drops of piss. I took a deep breath, opened the door and walked away
from Carlos.

I tried to conjure up an image of ninety-year old lesbians sixty-nining as
I walked through the office, purposely not making eye contact with
anyone. I couldn't help but notice a couple of surprised grins as I
passed. One buddy snickered and muttered, "Really missing the wife, huh?" I
practically threw myself into my chair, rested my elbows on the desk and
buried my face in my hands, waiting for my flushed cheeks to return to
normal. 'What would that little fucker do next?' I snorted. Little fucker?
More like humongous fucker.

I tried to stay as busy as possible the rest of the day to avoid thinking
about him. I wasn't entirely successful. I wondered what this costume party
we were going to was all about. Knowing Carlos and his attitude toward me,
it wouldn't be anything normal. Given the vast difference in our lifestyles
I was sure it would be a different kind of crowd than what I was used
to. At least I could be confident that I wouldn't know anyone there. He'd
try to humiliate me in some way, of that I was sure. A picture of me in a
skimpy French maid's outfit kept popping into my mind all afternoon.

I tried to get information out of Carlos on the short ride up to the
Village after work, but he just fiddled with the car radio, tuning in a
salsa music station and tuning me out. He'd told me to bring a change of
clothes along so I took my small overnight bag from the car after finding a
place to park and we went up to the apartment to change. Afterward I put
the suit back in the car and then we went to Rick's for a drink. So far, so
good.

After only one drink he had me pay the tab and then led me to a shop a few
blocks away. When I saw all of the leather gear in the window I got
butterflies in my stomach.

"Wait here," he muttered just inside the door.

I stood and watched as he went to the counter in the back of the small
store. The smell of leather was almost overpowering. A large hairy man in a
leather vest and no shirt was behind the counter. Carlos spoke to him and
he brought a large black shopping bag out from a back room. Carlos squatted
down and went through it, pulling several items out, but I was too far away
to be able to see what they were. He took out a smaller bag, looked through
it and then stood, nodding his head as the proprietor said something to
him. He left the bags on the floor and came toward me holding out his hand.

"Money,' he said as he came to a stop in front of me.

"How much?" I asked as I reached for my wallet.

"Whatever you've got."

I took out all the cash I had, four hundreds, several twenties and some
smaller bills, and handed it to him. He turned without a word and went to
the back of the store. When he came back toward me he had the bag in one
hand and what was left of my money in the other. I put out my hand and he
gave me the bag. I glared at him as he shoved the cash in his front pocket.

"What? You're not gonna need it. I'm taking care of everything
tonight. It's on me." He smiled.

We stopped at a deli on the way back to the apartment and picked up
sandwiches and a six-pack. We ate at the small table in the living room
with the shopping bag on the floor just outside the bedroom. Carlos kept up
a one sided conversation about the Mets chances of winning their division
while my eyes tried to burn a hole in the bag. When we finished our
sandwiches Carlos got us each another beer.

"Okay, c'mon. Time for show and tell. I know you're dying to see what we're
wearing tonight." He led the way into the bedroom, picking up the bag on
the way.

"Well, now that you mention it. What kind of party is this anyway? Some
kind of S&M thing, I'm guessing."

"And what do you know about S&M, straight suburban white boy?"

"Not much. In college I saw a porn movie that had a dominatrix in it."

"Well I can guarantee you won't be seein' any of them tonight. This party
is at a private club and is strictly male. The theme is masters and
slaves. Guess which you are."

Carlos took the small bag out of the large one and set it aside, then
started taking leather garments out, spreading them out on the bed. At the
top was a black biker's hat, then a harness made up of thick leather straps
and chrome rings, then chaps with a snap-on codpiece. Carlos took a pair of
black work boots from the closet and set them on the floor under the chaps.

"I tried it all on in the store the other day. I think I'll look
appropriately masterful." The pride was so evident in his voice he reminded
me of a little kid and I smiled at him in spite of my nervousness about the
party.

"What about my costume?" The shopping bag looked empty.

"Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about you." He picked up the small bag
and reached inside. He tossed a thick silver ring about two inches in
diameter on the bed. "There ya go."

I choked and Carlos laughed.

"Okay, okay, don't have a stroke. There's more to it than that."

He reached down into the large bag and pulled out what looked like a
studded black dog collar and threw it on the bed, followed by a leather
pouch on a strap of some kind. He dumped a couple of silver chains out of
the small bag and that was it.

"I think you'll make a very hot slave."

"But there's nothing there! I can't go out with nothing on."

"Relax, you'll be wearing your jeans. I don't want you to be arrested
before we even get to the party. This stuff is mostly for the contest."

"Contest?"

"Yeah, they're giving a prize for best master and slave. Not that I think
two amateurs like us will win, but we're gonna be pretty hot anyway."

Masters and slaves? Is that what my life was turning into? Sure, Carlos had
been calling all the shots since I fucked up his promotion, but that didn't
make me a slave. I was putting up with his abuse because I felt guilty,
wanted to make it up to him and really wanted to have sex with him. And
cute little Carlos wasn't my idea of a domineering S&M master. He was part
bully and part kid with a new toy, getting even with me and taking
advantage of my guilt feelings. But going to a party like this...

I picked up the pouch and strap and turned it every which way.

"It's sort of a leather g-string, Ry." I felt a wave of pleasure every time
he called me that. Most of the time he used his sarcastic 'sir' when
addressing me, sometimes 'boy' if he was feeling domineering. But Ry was
what he had been calling me when things were good between us, and he was
using that more and more lately. "Y'see, the pouch is for your family
jewels and the strap wraps around your waist and snaps at the back."

"But there's nothing running up the back from the pouch to the
strap. What's gonna hold me in?"

"There's a little elastic around the back of the pouch that'll not only
keep your junk from fallin' out, it'll push it all forward, so between that
and the cock ring you'll look like you're packin' major meat in your jeans
when we walk down the street. Not that what you've got isn't respectable
enough, but we want to be as hot as possible for the contest."

"What about these chains? Where do they go?" I picked up a chain that I
would consider to be quite heavy for a neck chain. It was about a foot long
and had another chain about the same length attached to the middle of it.

"That one clips onto your nipple rings and the other one onto the cock
ring. It's a decorative way to keep you all connected, but we'll have to be
careful. Maybe we'll only put them on for the contest. It could be too
tempting for guys at the party to pull on them, and your nipples aren't
really healed yet."

It was nice to hear him having some consideration for my well-being, but I
couldn't shake the suspicion that it had more to do with a chest and
abdomen covered with blood knocking us out of the contest.

I picked up Carlos' hat. "Don't I get one of these?"

"You're lucky you've got your hair. I'm sure most of the other slaves will
have shaved heads, or at least buzz cuts. Jose and I have been talking
about that and while I think some guys in your position at the bank could
get away with a shaved head, you couldn't carry it off."

I was relieved to hear that.

"I don't wear any kind of top? I think a vest like that guy in the store
had would look good on me." I didn't really think that, but I was hoping to
cover up a little more.

"A vest would look good on me, but I think the harness is better. Gotta
show off as much skin as possible, right? And my slave has to wear less
than me, so nothing on top for you. Enough questions now. I didn't have to
answer any of them but I'm feeling generous." He glanced at the alarm clock
on the nightstand. "The party doesn't start until eleven, so we have a
couple hours before we have to get ready. I suggest a nap. We both had a
long day and it's going to be a late night."

Carlos had been so pleasant and reassuring all evening but I was still
apprehensive about the party. As much as I wanted to lie down with him, I
was sure I'd never be able to sleep, especially since he was probably
thinking of having me sleep on the floor or the living room couch. He
surprised me by offering the bed.

"I want you to get some rest for tonight. But don't be getting all lovey
and cuddly. Stay on your side and sleep."

Carlos stripped down to his boxers and got into bed. I stripped down to my
lack of boxers and lay down naked on the other side. Even though there was
over a foot of space between us, it was a good feeling just being in bed
with him. I fell asleep in no time.

"Well, isn't this just too fuckin' adorable?" I opened one eye and saw Jose
standing in the semi-darkness. "You guys are never gonna win the contest
acting like that."

Through my sleepy stupor I realized that I was lying on my left side and
Carlos was tight behind me, spooning me, his arm around my chest. Through
his boxers, his enormous erection was pressing into the crack of my ass. He
rolled away from me, stretched and got off the bed.

"Just wait until we get there, amigo. We're gonna be so hot!"

The next hour was taken up by the three of us getting ready. Carlos quickly
shaved me again from the neck down, making sure there was no stubble. When
he suggested an enema, the look of alarm on my face was evident.

"No, don't worry, Ry, it's not a sex party, not tonight anyway. Nobody's
gonna be fuckin' ya. I just like the idea that you're gonna be totally
clean, inside and out."

Getting dressed was a challenge. Watching Carlos get his outfit ready made
me hard, which made it impossible to get my first item, the cock ring,
on. I kept struggling with it but things only got worse. Finally, Carlos
brought some ice cubes from the kitchen and held them against my
balls. That worked and I went down enough to squeeze everything through the
ring. Jose's outfit wasn't much, just a leather vest, no shirt, jeans and
boots. But then, he wasn't entering the contest. He kept touching me as I
tried to get dressed, slapping my butt, teasing my hole with a finger,
tugging on my balls. Carlos surprised me by hooking the chains up to my
nipple rings and cock ring.

"I thought these were just for the contest."

"Oh, they are. I'll take the chains off when we get to the club, but since
you're wearing your jeans on the street I thought you needed a little
something to draw attention to you and embarrass you on the way there."

Carlos had to ice my balls again to get my erection down to the point where
I could get it into the pouch. I was about to put on my jeans when Jose
spoke up.

"Aren't you forgetting something, bro?"

I turned to him and he was looking at Carlos, holding a black butt plug in
his hand. Carlos rolled his eyes.

"Shit, you're right! Where is my head? Bend over, Ry."

"Oh c'mon, Carlos. You can't expect me to have that up my ass all
night. It'll be uncomfortable and will drive me crazy."

"You'll get used to it in no time. And it's so much smaller than my dick
your greedy hole probably won't even feel it."

He was right about the size. It was maybe five inches long and nearly two
across at the widest point. I gave a resigned sigh and bent over. He lubed
it up and slowly twisted it into me. I felt it stretch me more and more
until it popped into place, my hole closing up around the base. After he
got it positioned the way he wanted it he had me turn my back to him and
Jose and stand with my feet about a foot apart.

"Great, you can't even tell it's there. It doesn't interfere with the
smooth lines of your beautiful muscular butt. I'll have to make sure you
bend over and show the judges and audience during the contest, though."

He finally allowed me to put on my jeans and I was done. I didn't have
boots but Carlos said my sneakers with no socks were okay.

Carlos took a silver cock ring just like mine although bigger in diameter
from a drawer in the nightstand and somehow managed to get his equipment
through it. Then he put on his jeans, followed by the chaps, leaving the
codpiece off so his huge denim bulge was neatly framed in black leather. He
took a small gym bag from the closet and put the codpiece in it.

"Okay now, just a little training session before we leave."

"Training? What do you mean?"

"First, you have to understand the rules for tonight. Then, I have to teach
you a few commands."

I groaned. This was just getting worse and worse. "Rules? Commands?"

"Take it easy. The rules are pretty simple. First, you can't speak at all,
to anyone, unless I ask you a question or give you permission to speak. You
act subservient all night. I don't mean you have to stare at the floor the
whole time, but no eye contact with your superiors. Finally, and most
important, you obey me. Anything and everything I tell you to do, you do
without question or hesitation. Remember, I'm the master and you're the
slave. That's what tonight is all about."

"What kind of stuff are you going to tell me to do?" Every time I started
to calm down he said something to get me worked up again.

"I have no idea and it doesn't matter." His voice softened for a few
seconds. "Don't worry, Ry, I'm not gonna tell you to suck anyone's dick,
but if I did I'd expect you to do it. The important thing is that you
obey. That's the point of the commands. In the contest we're going to have
to strike some poses for the crowd. You know, hot, erotic positions that
are in keeping with the BDSM theme. I figure it'll come across good if I
can give you one-word commands and you just snap into position."

I wasn't at all enthusiastic about that but it turned out that for once his
ideas were pretty tame. My positions were things like kneeling in front of
him with my head down and hands behind my back, bent over kissing his boot,
kneeling behind him kissing his butt, or touching my lips or the tip of my
tongue to his bulging crotch. It was quite subservient but not too
humiliating.

Just as we were about to leave he reached into the gym bag, pulled out a
dog leash and clipped it onto a ring on my collar. I groaned.

"You've got to be kidding!"

"Fuck, boy! How many times do I have to tell you not to speak back or
question me? You'd better get into your role right now or you're gonna
regret it when we get back tonight."

Carlos sounded genuinely angry so I meekly nodded and left my head
hanging. He handed me the gym bag, gave the leash a jerk and we left. I was
mortified as we started down the sidewalk, but apparently a trio like us
was not that much of an oddity in that neighborhood. Many people barely
noticed us, or at least pretended not to. And the ones that did stare were
amused, not horrified. I tried to imagine the reaction if the three of us
were to walk into the 7-Eleven down the road from my house dressed up like
this.

Carlos finally stopped and opened an unmarked door between an antique shop
and a used bookstore. He led us up a long flight of stairs and at the top
was a mean looking black dude sitting on a stool. He was probably 250
pounds of muscle and had heavy chains draped around his naked upper
torso. He was wearing skintight black leather pants and boots. A sign next
to him just said Admission $20. Carlos pulled my money out of his pocket
and handed the guy three twenties.

"Where do we enter the contest?"

The black guy looked us over from head to foot then nodded toward the door
opposite him. "Through the door to your right."

Carlos led the way, giving the leash a sharp tug. We went through the
doorway into an enormous room. There were two pool tables right in front of
us and a long bar running down each of the side walls. At the back of the
room was a low stage. To our right was a table and another guy in leather
sitting there. Carlos handed the leash to Jose, approached the table,
talked for a minute and then turned to me.

"Heel!" he ordered. I immediately stood about a foot behind him and just to
the right, hung my head and clasped my hands behind my back. By rolling my
eyes up as far as I could I could make out Carlos filling in what looked
like a multi-page formal application. When he handed the application in
along with a fifty-dollar entry fee, I wondered if there was an ATM in the
club. The way he was running through my money we might need one.

"You're number 4. Dressing room is behind me," the guy at the table said,
pointing to a door. Although I hadn't been allowed to look at him much, I'd
seen that he had only given me a quick up and down glance of appraisal and
then I didn't exist as far as he was concerned.

"Come, boy," Carlos ordered. Jose handed the leash back to Carlos and
headed for the bar. I kept my eyes down and followed Carlos. The room we
went into was about twenty feet square with metal shelves along one wall
and a couple of locker room type benches in the middle. I noticed a couple
of knapsacks and bags like the one I was holding on the shelves. There were
two guys in the room. One was a few years older and quite a bit bigger than
me. The other was a little smaller and a couple of years younger. The
larger one, obviously the master, was wearing a vest and jeans. The slave
was wearing only a jockstrap. Both men had a number of tattoos all over
their bodies. I didn't find either of them at all attractive, but then no
one asked me. Carlos nodded to the master, then turned to me and held out
his hand.

"Sneakers, boy!" I gave him a questioning look. I knew there was nothing
else in the bag for me to put on so I didn't know what he was doing. He
just glared at me and looked like he was going to explode, so I quickly sat
down and took them off. The other two guys left the room while I was doing
that.

"No hesitations, Ry!" he hissed at me. "If it makes you feel any better,
all of the slaves will be barefoot. I'm told they scrubbed the floors today
and are asking everyone to be careful not to step on toes, although I'm
sure some may do it on purpose."

I put my sneakers in the bag and looked up at Carlos. "Okay, now the
jeans."

I started to balk again but he glowered at me, so I quickly stripped them
off, folded them and put them in the bag as well. I was surprised when he
removed his chaps and boots and then his jeans also. He put the chaps and
boots back on as I folded his jeans and packed them away. He snapped the
codpiece into place, hiding his beautiful tool.

"The jeans were just to keep your white ass from being arrested on the
street. That bubble butt and my black beauty can only help us in here." He
carefully removed the chains from my rings and put them in the bag, then
put the bag in a shelf. "Okay, show time. Make me proud, boy."

Carlos left the room and I followed, not waiting for the leash to pull me,
although being nearly naked I would have preferred staying in the dressing
room. Even though the place had opened nearly an hour earlier there wasn't
a very big crowd yet. Carlos had said the contest started at one, so I
assumed the place would fill up soon. Jose was standing at the bar and we
joined him.  Carlos bought two Heinekens and gave one to Jose. The two
tapped bottles and sipped.  I knew I wasn't supposed to talk but I wondered
whether I was going to get a drink. I waited while they chatted and finally
got up the nerve to tap Carlos lightly on the arm. He gave me an annoyed
look. I made a motion like tipping a bottle toward my mouth and raised my
eyebrows. He shook his head.

"Boys don't drink with their masters as if they're buddies. Maybe I'll let
you have something after the contest." He had a glint in his eye as he
added "If you're really thirsty before then, maybe I'll share my beer with
you. Recycled and warm, of course."

He turned back to Jose. Just then a tall slim blond man in a black t-shirt
and leather pants approached Carlos.

"Are you number four? Carlos?"

"Yes, I am. What's up?"

The guy held out his hand. "I'm Spike, the contest photographer." In spite
of the leather, I didn't think the name fit him. A Spike ought to have a
beefy build and an ugly face with a broken nose. This guy was actually
quite attractive. "I noticed you didn't sign the release for the pictures."

"Uh, yeah, the guy at the table said that was optional. It looked like it
was a little too complete a release to me."

"Yeah, it's very complete. This isn't a hobby for me, it's my business. The
pictures I take tonight are my property to do with as I please if you sign
it."

"I realize that they're yours and I wouldn't mind them being posted
privately, like here in the club or in your portfolio if you have one, but
my boy and I both have careers that would suffer if our nearly naked
pictures appeared on a billboard in Times Square or on the Internet."

"I can understand that, but you're saying you'd be willing to sign a
limited release allowing private showings of the photos?"

"Sure, just nothing public."

"Okay, come with me." He led the three of us back to the registration table
and pulled out a couple of forms. "You should have been offered the limited
release when you didn't sign the first one. I'll send you copies of the
complete release in case you change your mind later on."

I gave Carlos a questioning look but he just shook his head. He signed the
form after quickly reading through it. I carefully read my copy to make
sure it said exactly what had been talked about before signing. I wasn't
crazy about the idea of pictures of me in this get-up being shown anywhere,
but as long as it was limited to places like this no one I knew would ever
see them.

As we headed back to the bar he spoke to me. "Relax, Ry. Anything they send
will be to my address. That's what's on the application. Hell, I don't even
know your home address so how could I give it to them?"

I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe I was justified, given the way Carlos
was keeping me off balance, but my paranoia was getting out of control.

The crowd grew steadily over the next hour and by one o'clock the place was
packed. It was my first time ever in a gay bar of any kind, so at first I
was entranced by all of the guys in their gear, but after a while they all
started to look the same. The same basic uniform, same buzzed haircuts or
shaved heads, even the tattoos all blended together. Now and then I saw a
real hottie, some guy who was either cute as hell or sexy as all get-out,
but most of the guys did nothing for me. Maybe I was just nervous, waiting
for the contest to begin. I sure as hell was thirsty but wasn't about to
ask Carlos for a drink. While he seemed to act cocksure and in charge,
chatting with Jose and various other guys, I could tell he was nervous
too. He may have been more used to this scene, but this was apparently his
first time as a master.

At last the music briefly softened and a voice boomed out telling the
contestants to line up to the right of the stage. Carlos lightly jerked my
leash and led me to the other end of the room. In spite of the dungeony
atmosphere it kind of reminded me of grade school. A middle-aged man in
leather cap, no shirt but straps around his biceps, and leather pants came
fussing down the line with a clipboard, checking off each pair, making sure
we were lined up in the right order. I decided he was probably an English
teacher in real life.

The emcee, a female impersonator wearing a black leather outfit right out
of Rocky Horror and brandishing a long whip, stepped up on the stage and
started the show. Each pair (in was hard to think of them as couples) were
called up on the stage, went through a series of poses which Spike
photographed, and then went down the steps on the other side of the
stage. I noticed that only the masters were introduced by name. Carlos and
I were up on the stage before I knew it, and somehow I managed to turn off
my brain, forget about the huge crowd gawking, whistling, cheering and
jeering at me, and just instinctively follow Carlos' one-word commands. I
focused on him and blocked out the audience, barely even noticing the
flashes as Spike did his job.

At the foot of the steps on the other side of the stage was a completely
naked, totally shaved slave boy holding a tray of shot glasses. Carlos took
a shot as he stepped down, tossed it back and put the glass back on the
tray. He nodded to me.

"Good job, boy. Have a drink. You deserve it." I gratefully took a glass
and downed the tequila.

Most of the other contestants headed back toward the dressing room after
their turn but Carlos wanted to watch the competition, so we stood off to
one side of the stage as the others were introduced. It was only then that
I noticed a table in front of the stage with three judges seated at
it. They stared at each pair as they posed, then jotted notes on pads of
paper in front of them. I thought most of the contestants looked pretty
much the same, the masters overly large and hairy, the slaves shaved and
cowering, the masters tattooed, the slaves pierced, with the exception of
one pair. The master was about 40, large and muscular, with a face that was
pure evil. He wasn't even looking in my direction, but he scared me. His
slave, on the other hand, was stunningly beautiful. He looked to be in his
late 20s, was slightly smaller than me and had a perfectly cut slim smooth
muscular body. He was one of the few slaves other than me with hair on his
head, pale blond and about an inch long. His eyes were the same deep blue
as mine. He had no piercings, no tattoos and was wearing only a small
leather g-string. He looked like an angel. Small black Carlos turned me on
like no man ever had, but this blond boy came a close second.

There were 15 pairs of masters and slaves altogether but after the twelfth
Carlos tugged on my leash.

"Come, boy! Time to get ready for the next part."

'Next part?' Carlos saw the question in my eyes and smiled.

"Don't worry, it's the same basic thing with minor costume
modifications. When we get to the dressing room take off your pouch so I
can attach your chains."

That wasn't much of a change in costume but I knew that was the only thing
else we'd brought with us. I was expecting the dressing room to be crowded
but apparently most of the pairs had already come and gone. The first thing
I saw when we went into the room was the beautiful blond, naked with his
back to us. His rounded ass was even hotter than it had looked on stage. I
wanted to throw myself into it face first.

The evil master introduced himself to Carlos and the two of them took shot
glasses from a tray being held by another slave and toasted each other
while blondie turned toward us and stood in silence, looking down
somewhat. I didn't look up but was still able to check out his body as I
got our bag off the shelf and took off my pouch. The blond boy had shaved
pubes and a nice sized flaccid penis hanging over what appeared to be the
only imperfection in his physical beauty, a very small ball sac. There was
a lull in the conversation and I sensed the evil master's eyes boring into
me. I looked up, deliberately stopping my eyes at his chin. I knew I wasn't
supposed to look in his eyes and I really didn't want to anyway.

"So boy," he sneered, "you like my gelding?"

I gasped and looked back at the blond's crotch, realizing why the sac
looked so small. Carlos stepped forward and curiously fondled the empty sac
with his fingertips.

"I almost never let him cum so he didn't have any use for them anyway." The
master smiled an evil smile. "But they're not really gone. I have them in a
jar at home."

I looked back at the master in horror.

"Oh, don't look at me that way! He wanted it as much as I did, practically
begged me to have them cut off."

I turned to the boy and looked him in the eyes. He just gave a beautiful,
though I thought sad, smile and nodded. The master came over to me and
grabbed my balls in his hand, squeezing them just enough to hurt.

"Yours are a bit larger. Would probably need a bigger jar." He turned to
Carlos. "Let me know if you need the name and number of a good de-baller."
He let go of my nads as he looked at his slave.

"Come, boy!" He turned and left the room, chuckling at his ironic
command. The blond beauty rushed after him.

Carlos came over to me and whispered in my ear, "Don't worry, Ry, I like
your balls right where they are." He wrapped a hand around them and played
with them. "Besides, if they were in a jar it would be no fun to do this."
With one fast move he yanked down and squeezed, sending pain shooting
through my abdomen, causing me to double over. As the pain slowly subsided,
I stood up to find him holding two shot glasses in front of me.

"I think you need these, boy."

I drank down both shots and then Carlos attached the chains to my
rings. When I started to put the pouch back on he grabbed it and put it in
the bag.

"You won't need that this time. You're fine just the way you are."

"No way! I can't go out there like this. I'm naked!"

"You're gonna be punished later for all of these outbursts, boy. But for
now, if it makes you feel any better ..." He grabbed his codpiece and
pulled, unsnapping it and freeing his black boa. He grinned at me. "We'll
both be hanging out. Now let's go out there and make them drool."

We helped ourselves to yet another shot each before we left the room. In
spite of everything, I was starting to relax. Four shots of tequila in less
than half an hour might have had something to do with that.

The second round of poses was very similar to the first, although there was
much more nudity on everyone's part. Due to that, Carlos changed our poses
just a bit. Instead of pressing my lips to his codpiece, I opened my mouth
wide, stuck out my tongue and he laid his mushroom head on it. And instead
of just kissing his ass, I ran my tongue up his crack. For the final pose
he had me bend over with my butt to the audience and use my hands to spread
my cheeks, exposing the black base of the butt plug. He then surprised me
by grabbing it, twisting it a bit and then pulling it out of me. It had
been in so long, stretching me just slightly, that I was used to it, but
the wide part made me wince as he withdrew it. Then he slapped my butt and
told me to stand and face the audience. I figured our part of the show was
over and was considering making a facetious bow, but Carlos had one final
degradation for me. He had me open my mouth, inserted the entire plug, then
jerked my chain and led me off the stage as I struggled to control my gag
reflex, tears running down my cheeks.

Jose was waiting for us just offstage.

"Great finish, amigo! Too bad you gave him that enema earlier, though."

I glared at Jose but Carlos just ignored the remark. "C'mon, boy." He
tugged on my leash and pulled me toward the dressing room, the butt plug
still filling my mouth. When we got there he took it out and tossed it in
the bag, then took off my chains as well.

"That's it for the contest, though it will probably be an hour before we
know the results. Let's go watch the rest of it and mingle."

I cleared my throat and held my arms out. "Uh, I'm naked here."

"So? Everyone's already seen it all. What good would covering up now do?
Besides, you're hotter than just about anyone in this place. I want to show
off my boy. C'mon, I'll buy you a beer."

The contest didn't technically end until the winners were announced, so
Carlos and I had to keep up our act for a while. It was a lot easier for
him. He could speak to anyone and do whatever he wanted. He paid no
attention to me at all except now and then when he tugged on the leash a
bit. He did allow me to have a beer. At one point he and Jose started to
have some kind of disagreement and Carlos handed my leash to a bystander
and the two of them moved off several feet and exchanged heated words. He
came back but Jose wandered off. Carlos took back the leash, had me leave
my beer on the bar and led me toward the stage at the other end of the
room. The posing had finished and the judges appeared to be tabulating
their scores. Carlos stopped in a small open space within sight of the
judges' table and pulled on my leash so I was standing facing him.

"Kneel!" He ordered.

Without hesitation I knelt down and clasped my hands behind my back.

"Suck!" He thrust his hips forward slightly. Considering the theme to the
night, things had been going fairly well and I didn't want to cross him at
that point, but I couldn't imagine that he was serious. I looked up, my
eyes wide and saw from his eyes that he was very serious, so I took a deep
breath, opened my mouth and sucked his head in. Between the atmosphere, the
nudity and the cock ring he hadn't been completely soft all evening but as
soon as I began to suck his dick grew to its full 9 inches. I wasn't sure
I'd be able to take it all at this angle but after bumping the back of my
throat a couple of times I felt him pop through and slide in. He then put a
hand on either side of the top of my head and began to pump into me,
fucking my throat. The excitement of the evening brought him to the edge
quickly and in no time he froze and I was treated to his hot jizz shooting
down my throat. About halfway though his orgasm he pulled partially out and
finished up my filling my mouth. He sighed, withdrew from my mouth and
patted me on the head.

"Good boy, I needed that. You can swallow now."

I let the rest of his load slide down my throat and waited until he gave me
permission to get up from my knees. He led me back to the bar and bought us
each another beer.

"I figured it wouldn't hurt to give the judges one last show."

They announced the results of the contest about twenty minutes later. A hot
but fairly stereotypical master-slave pair won. The evil master and his
gelding came in second and Carlos and I placed third. I don't know if our
little encore helped or not, but it obviously didn't hurt. I felt an odd
sense of pride and Carlos seemed pleased as he led me up to the stage to
take our bows and get our hundred-dollar prize money. We went to the
dressing room, put on our jeans and left. Jose was nowhere to be seen and
that was fine with me. It was nearly four in the morning, I was exhausted
and I just wanted to sleep, although that was really up to Carlos. After
all, he was my master.

To be continued.