Date: Fri, 9 Jun 2006 10:19:40 EDT
From: Symzz@aol.com
Subject: The Raffle

The following is purely the subject of a wild imagination. It is fiction,
however if stories involving minors are illegal in your country you should
leave now.

Author's note.... this is my first attempt at creating a story for Nifty.
it is longer than I originally intended but I hope this will not put you
off; I have tried to thread a story line that will keep your interest.
Observant readers will notice that I never quite decided whether to set
this story in the US or Europe with resulting anomolies.

Please feel free to send me your critical appraisals.


The Raffle


Chapter One


Charity.... don't you love it? To be frank, I not too keen really. I
acclaim the goals but hate the methods employed to achieve them, namely
encouraging you to feel guilty about how you have so much and others have
so little. Actually, I accept that that is the case but, to be fair, it's
not really my fault.

You're probably thinking 'what a selfish bastard! Only cares about himself
etc.' and you could be right, it's just that I believe that the bill for
helping the less fortunate in our society should be shared by everybody and
financed through taxation. (goodness knows I pay enough!) Our governments
however are quite happy to offload that responsibility whenever the
opportunity arises.

I am also uneasy about where the money goes, how much actually reaches the
intended recipients? I once heard that all Oxfam volunteers travel first
class when flying to Africa or wherever... I've no idea whether this is
true, but it makes you wonder.

I always give a polite smile to the chuggers standing on street corners as
they jingle their tins, replete with coins, a few inches from my
face... 'Come on, mate. It's for the children / poor / old / crippled /
dogs / cats / church roof....' As I detour around their ambush.

What's much harder, impossible almost, is when friends or colleagues try to
tap you for a donation. They have no hesitation in using emotional
blackmail to prostitute our friendship or work relationship, no matter how
strong my beliefs nobody wants to be shown up as the Scrooge / skinflint /
miser of the office.... Hater of children/the poor/the crippled/dogs/cats
or church roofs!

Of course the causes are usually even more obscure ... so and so's little
Johnny is going on a 'silenceathon' and will not talk for a whole hour,
will I sponsor him on a per minute basis so that his school can buy his
teacher a better chair? Or something equally mind-numbing. 'Go on, Paul,
it's for the kids....'

So sometimes I have to compromise my principals and begrudgingly pay up,
even asking the proud father to wish Johnny the best of luck in his onerous
task - through gritted teeth and as unsarcastically as possible.

Why am I burdening you with my personal hang-ups? Because it was charity
that got me into this mess in the first place. Let me explain....

Thursday, 2 weeks ago; 'Hi Paul, just the person I was looking for.' Oh,
great. Just the person I didn't want to find me, Marty Ricardo, Director of
Health and Safety Compliance and compulsive do-gooder.

Another of my pet hates - Health and Safety, a euphemism for interference
and control. An invidious disease spread through our society by means of an
unvirtuous circle of blame and arse-covering.

'Hi Marty, good to see you. How's it going?'

'Fine, thanks Paul, just fine.' Marty is short, 50 pounds overweight and
prone to profuse sweating. He was sweating now. Internally I groaned as I
contemplated what heinous crime I might have committed.

'What's up, Marty, did I forget to wear gloves and goggles when I got a
coffee earlier or is my paper clip holder overfilled, causing a danger to
unsuspecting passers-by should it topple over?'

A look of mild panic crossed his florid face for a brief moment until his
brain kicked in and he sort of giggled, punched me buddy-style on the arm
and said 'Shit, Paul, you always get me going....no nothing like that,
although you know hot coffee can scald quite badly...no, I wanted to talk
to you about this year's company party. It's only 10 days away you know.'

'Yeah' I responded 'and..?'

'And' repeated Marty, 'we are, as I'm sure you remember, combining the day
with a fund raising event.'

'How could I forget?' I asked, as enthusiastically as possible. 'What's it
in aid of again?' I asked, resisting the urge to list a string of sarcastic
suggestions.

'The donkey sanctuary, remember? You must have seen the dreadful pictures I
e- mailed you, you just can't believe the terrible state some of those poor
animals are in when they are rescued.'

'Oh, yeah, how could I forget?' I replied, dryly. 'And you're telling me
because...?'


'Because I know that I can rely on your support and as head of your
department you have to be a role model to your team, set a good example.'

Now I was worried. Set an example, how?'

'Remember; I explained in my e-mail.' Marty continued. (Remember? I deleted
it without reading it). 'Of course' I replied cautiously. 'Just remind me.'

'This year we are going to have a 'Raffle of Promises'.' He must have
noticed my bafflement and went on, 'this is where people offer something
they own that can be raffled or they can offer a service like lawn mowing,
house painting, babysitting; that kind of thing.'

'Uh ha' I grunted. 'And you want me to contribute?'

'Naturally, Paul, what would you like to offer?'

'I er... I don't really know. You've caught me off guard, Marty.'

'Come on Paul, you've had 3 weeks to think about it. I need an answer now
as I have to send the list of promises to our print department by lunchtime
today.'

'I really can't think of anything that I've got that I want to give
away.... You must have some ideas of what I could do, service wise, Marty'.

'Most of the usual things have been offered' shrugged Marty. 'Lawn mowing,
car washing, gutter-clearing etc. You could do some thing wacky like eating
50 boiled eggs or sitting in a bath of baked beans... you know the type of
thing.'

'No way. I'm not going to humiliate myself for a few scraggy-arsed
donkeys!'

Marty's already red face became even redder. 'You may not think it's
important, Paul, but many of us do and I really feel that you...'

'OK Marty.' I interrupted. 'Hold your horses, I'm sorry. Haven't you got
any other suggestions?'

Slightly mollified, thankfully, Marty scanned through the papers in his
hands. 'Ah, yes. Bill Musgrove.... You know him?' I gave him an 'I think
so' look. 'Crashed his car last week, broken leg....now he was going to
do something but can't now for obvious reasons.'

'Right.' I agreed.

'What was it...? Ah yes, here it is. Slave for a Day.'

'I beg your pardon.'

'Slave for a Day.'

'How the Hell does that work? I enquired, cautiously.

'As the phrase suggests, really. Whoever pulls your name from the raffle
has you as their 'slave' for the day. You see to their every whim and
wish.'

'OK' I murmured. 'So I'd get them coffee, do their filing, carry their bags
to the car, that sort of thing?'

'Exactly, Paul, that sort of thing,

'How hard could that be?' I thought to myself. 'It won't cost me anything
and it could actually be a welcome diversion from the day to day work
drudgery.'

'Fine.' I said spontaneously, 'I'll do that then.'

'Good' sighed Marty, who looked relieved and smiled as he wrote something
on his sheet and confided, 'I knew I could rely on you, Paul. See you next
week.'

'Yep, see you then' I rejoined, feeling quite pleased with myself,
convinced that I had got away lightly.

In fact I had no intention of attending the party; frankly I had far better
things to do with my time. Anything, actually, would be better than
spending my free time with the same people that I work with all week.

I'd been before; finding myself drowning in false bonhomie and
backslapping, being introduced to a plethora of wives and husbands, all of
whom wanted to know what their partner was really like at the office. As I
have been widowed for the past 5 years I couldn't play that game even if
I'd wanted to.

I would spend that Saturday as I nearly always did.... sleep-in an
extra half hour, gentle jog to my gym 2 miles away, work-out, swim, sauna,
swim, shower, shave, change into fresh clothes I keep in my locker, stroll
home, breakfast on decking with newspaper and then think about the rest of
the day....simple but blissful.

And that's what I did, playing tennis with some pals at my club on Saturday
afternoon and enjoying a meal with my wife's sister, Patricia, in the
evening. This had become quite a regular thing since Carla had died (usual
shit, the big C) and I enjoyed her company.

She looked eerily like her sister and I could let myself fantasise while we
chatted, I think we had both wondered what it would be like if
we.... got it together.  However, cliché I know, we were worried that
it could ruin a special friendship so we had never progressed past a few
doorstep snogs and extended hugs.

It was sad to admit it but I had been unable to sustain a meaningful
relationship since I lost Carla. Sure I'd had a number of one night stands,
sometimes stretching to two or three nights but the women seemed to sense
that my heart really wasn't in it and gave me up as a lost cause.

Sunday came and went in a kind of lazy, meaningless but somehow pleasurable
fashion and suddenly it was Monday morning again.... Whoopee, joy oh joy,
only another 25 years - what's that, 1260 Mondays? - And I can retire to my
Caribbean island or whatever.

As Sales Manager I run a team of 20 guys and gals across the country. They
all work from home offices and look after their local territories. I have a
rule that by the time I boot up my laptop on Monday mornings I want to see
results from the previous week and plans for the upcoming one on my
e-mail. Anybody who is tardy is likely to get a rocket up his or her arse!

So, having purloined myself a mug of coffee and engaged in the usual round
of obligatory office banter, I powered up my IBM ThinkPad and waited for
the machine to go through its warm-up, keyed in my password and began to
scan my inbox. All the usual suspects were there and I began to plough
through various missives and responding with congratulations,
admonishments, advice or simply acknowledgements.

As I neared the end, after about three hours, my mind drifted towards
thoughts of lunch. I leaned back, stretching my spine and closed my eyes
for a few moments.  Then, wearily, I returned to my task. Two more to go,
no hang on a minute, while I looked away a new mail had appeared. 'Shit', I
groaned to myself, 'what now?'

Sender; Mark Spencer, Subject; Raffle.

Who the hell was Mark Spencer? The name rang a bell but I couldn't put my
finger on it. 'Marie' I called over to my PA (she wasn't really my PA, more
an admin girl actually) 'do you know a Mark Spencer?'

She looked up with her usual bored expression, sucked on her pencil for a
moment then replied, 'Mark Spencer? Yeah, he works in IT, a real techie.

'He hasn't been in for a few days, something medical I think.... I
remember, he broke his arm and the hospital didn't reset it properly so he
has to have it rebroken and set again. Poor bastard!'

'Ouch!' the thought made me wince. 'I wonder what he wants' I murmured. I
double clicked and brought up the message.

Dear Mr. Owen (very formal, I thought) I'm writing reference the raffle
which was drawn on Saturday. (Oh shit I'd completely forgotten about that!)
I was the lucky winner and would like to arrange a convenient date for you
to fulfil your promise to be 'Slave for a Day'.  I would like to suggest
this coming Saturday; for obvious reasons weekdays are not possible
(yeah... broken arm and all that), Could you come to my house at 8.00 am?
My address is 275 Pine Ridge. (8.00 am? On a Saturday?)

I look forward to receiving your return mail.

Yours truly,

Mark Spencer

'Just my bloody luck' I thought, 'I had reckoned on a nice easy day helping
someone with their office work and now I'm lumbered with looking after a
half cripple... on a Saturday!'

My first instinct was to reply that I was busy, suggest we wait until he
returned to work but then I figured that I may as well get it out the way
ASAP and vow not to give in to emotional blackmail next year!

So, begrudgingly, I responded to 'Mr. Spencer', confirming that I would be
at his home on Saturday. My finger hovered over the Send command before I
took the plunge and stabbed at the key.


------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter Two



The rest of the week passed pretty much like most weeks and by Friday night
I was ready for the weekend... except I was only going to get half of
it. I spent the evening nursing a few bottles of suds and watching a couple
of my favourite DVDs; 'Stand by Me' and 'Rookie of the Year'.

Unusually for a Friday night, I fell into bed before midnight as I had to
be up earlier than normal and, still cursing my ill luck, drifted into a
dreamless sleep.

6.30; my alarm announced that my 'Day as a Slave' had arrived and I
sluggishly went about my morning routine, finishing with a bowl of warm
porridge to give me strength during my impending task.

At 7.40 I climbed into my car and began the relatively short journey to
Pine Ridge, the traffic was light - no commuter traffic - therefore I
arrived 5 minutes early, so I sat outside number 275 and surveyed the
neighbourhood. Pine Ridge was a classic middle class, All-American Street,
the houses looked clean and the gardens neat and tidy.

Most were 3 or 4 bedroom units while some looked to be 5 or 6 bedroom
examples, probably with pools included.

275 was one of the larger homes and the driveway was empty so I pulled up
to the double garage door, turned off the ignition and stepped out of the
car.

As I walked towards the front door I took a deep breath and reminded myself
not to let any sarcastic comments or moans make the day worse than it need
be, I pressed the bell and heard a ubiquitous chiming tune ring through the
house. Not long afterwards locks and/or latches were turned and the door
slowly opened inwards.

A head appeared round the door... A blonde head which appeared, at
first sight, to belong to a young boy of between 12 and 13.... the head
didn't speak so I did;

'Hi, I'm looking for your Dad, is he in?'

'No' said the head 'Fraid not.'

'Are you sure? I'm Paul Owen. I'm meant to be meeting him here this
morning. This is 275, right?

'Yep' responded the head, not opening the door any further.

'And your Dad's name is Mark Spencer?'

'Yep.'

Getting exasperated now, 'and your Dad is Mark Spencer?'

'Definitely.'

Rather than get angry with the kid, whose fault this wasn't, I tried to
explain; 'Your father and I work together, well at he same company anyway,
and at our company party last week there was a raffle and he .... well,
he 'won' me for a day and...'

'That was me.' The boy interrupted, looking somewhat sheepishly at the
ground.

'Pardon' I responded in confusion.

'That was me.' The blond head repeated.

He obviously recognised an uncomprehending look and continued; 'I'm Mark
Spencer... I mean so's my Dad... I'm named after him.... we are both Mark
Spencer...'

'Right, I see.'

'Every year' he went on 'my Dad buys me a ticket in the company raffle -
I've never won- until now.'

The truth of the situation was finally beginning to dawn on me;
'So... let me get this straight, you're the Mark Spencer who e-mailed
me and you're the Mark Spencer for whom I'm supposed to be a slave for a
day?'

'Er.... Yeah.' murmured blondie, nervously. 'Is that OK?'

'Look, maybe I should talk with you Dad or your Mum to check this out. Can
you call them?'

'They're not here.'

'I beg your pardon.'

'They're not here, Dad had to have his arm fixed and Mum drove him; they
had to go to the specialist hospital and they won't be back until tomorrow
afternoon.'

The blonde head came into full view, followed by a shoulder, half a torso
and one leg.

'You coming in then?' The boy looked at me quizzically and I noticed for
the first time what amazingly blue eyes he had, almost turquoise and framed
incongruously by a thatch of thick, dark lashes.

'I well...I ...Sure, why not?'  I decided that, actually, this could be
easier than I had imagined. What jobs would a kid want me to do, anyway?
Clean his room, do his homework?

The door swung fully open and I stepped into a bright and spacious hall
and, for the first time, I was able to see the full version of young
Mr. Spencer.

He looked to be about 5ft 3 or 4, probably 70 or 80 pounds hung from his
slight frame and his face exhibited a flawless complexion, a neat nose and
overfull lips that almost looked as if they'd had a pale red lipstick
brushed across them.

As I entered he gave a small half smile which instantly lit up the room
with his perfect white teeth and the hints of dimples appeared in the
middle of his cheeks.

He was dressed more neatly than the average boy his age; a royal blue
t-shirt was tucked into stone coloured 'Sunday Best' trousers which were
belted and carefully pressed. Pristine white trainers adorned his feet.

'Hi, Mr. Owen' he said as he held out a small hand which I took and shook
firmly.

'Nice to meet you, Mr. Spencer' I responded, grinning slightly. 'So, what
happens now?'

'Well, so we get things straight I've prepared a few... sort of... rules'
he said nervously as he slowly withdrew a neatly folded sheet of paper from
his back pocket.

'Rules?' I was taken aback, yet amused by the precociousness of this lad
who gingerly handed me the paper, stepping back a pace and watched me
unfold it and begin to read the contents.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Three


Rules


1. The day shall commence at 8.30 am on Saturday and conclude at 8.30 am on
Sunday.  2. Mr. Owen (slave) will address Mr. Spencer as 'Master' at all
times.  3. Mr. Owen will obey all orders given by his Master without
question 4. Mr Owen shall not speak without the express permission of his
Master 5. Mr. Owen is forbidden from disclosing any details of this day to
any other person 6. If Mr Owen is in breach of any of the above rules, his
Master has the right to punish him in any way he sees fit.

By signing below I agree to abide by the rules identified herewith.



Paul Owen

Having read the document I read them again. I didn't know whether to laugh
or cry.

'No way! Did you write this yourself?

'Of course.'

'Well you're crazy if you think I'll agree to this.'

'Why, What's wrong with it?.. The boy asked a tremor in his voice.

'For starters, I didn't expect to be staying overnight and....'

'But a day is a day' he interrupted, '24 hours.'

'Yeah, OK' I conceded 'but what about this you must obey shit?'

He looked a little shocked at my 'shit', 'That's what slaves do isn't it -
obey?

'Maybe, yeah' I agreed, getting pissed off at being out-debated by a
kid. 'The punishment bit, that's where you step over the line,'

'Are you planning to disobey me? He asked, raising a single eyebrow.

'I guess not but....'

'Then there won't be any need for punishments will there?'

Damn, he had me again.

'So, you gonna sign?' he asked and held out a pen while taking a step
towards me.

I took a deep breath, 'what the hell give it here.' I snatched the pen,
held the sheet against the wall and scribbled my signature on the
line. 'There, happy now?'

'Thanks.' He smiled as he refolded the paper and replaced it in his back
pocket. 'It's 8.25 so we have 5 minutes before the day starts. You can wait
in there until then.' He pointed to a large tastefully furnished living
room, 'Make yourself at home.'

I went in, sat on one of the sofas and contemplated how I had got myself
into this.  Best thing, I decided was to just go with the flow and see how
it turned out. This Mark Spencer was a sweet looking kid but a little
scary.

Bang on 8.30 the door was pushed open and blondie appeared, he didn't seem
to be as nervous as earlier and had a new kind of assertiveness about
him. He was carrying a small sports bag. 'Slave!' he called, in an unbroken
but strong voice, 'come here.'

Instinctively, I rose from the sofa and walked towards him, 'so, Mark, this
is the start of our day, right?

'How dare you address me in that manner, you are my slave and I am your
Master. If you fail to address me correctly again you will be severely
punished!'

OK, let's play the game, I thought. 'A thousand apologies, Master, I am not
worthy and beg you forgiveness.' My Master smiled thinly and seemed to grow
a couple of inches in stature.

'I will forgive you this one time... but do not let it happen again.'
'No Master, never.' I was smiling inside but tried to look suitably cowed.

'Now, slave, I see that you are inappropriately attired for one of you
lowly rank. You will dress as I decree.' He threw the bag towards me, 'put
these on and be quick about it.' With that he turned on his heel and left
the room.

Intrigued, I unzipped the bag. Inside there were only two items; what can
only be described as a thong which was, as I confirmed by gently sniffing
it, leather and a skirt. I say skirt because I don't know the real name for
the things Roman slaves are always shown wearing in those old epics.

Jesus, this kid's really into this slave thing, I thought. As I began to
undress I was quite excited by the prospect of dressing up in my 'uniform'
and even felt a stirring in my groin.... leather thong, I never had - but
here's always a first time.

I stripped naked (I was secretly pleased that I had kept myself in pretty
good shape. It would have hurt my pride if I had had a gut hanging over my
skirt.... even if it was only a young boy who would see it) and pulled on
the thong. I fitted like the proverbial glove and, even if I say so myself,
it made my fairly average package look huge and even a little obscene.

I wrapped the skirt around my waist and fastened it with Velcro (obviously
a Roman invention) and waited to see what would happen next.


Chapter Four


'Slave, you will lower your eyes when I enter a room.' The boy had
reappeared and, before I averted my gaze as instructed, I had time to
notice that he, too, had 'dressed for the occasion'. He was attired in pure
white toga which looked like it might be silk, one arm and shoulder was
exposed and a silken rope circled his waist. A purple sash ran from
shoulder to hip and the garment ended only inches below the blond boy's
butt.

This had the effect of elongating his lightly tanned, hairless legs giving
them an almost feminine appearance. For the second time a buzz began in my
thong (Christ, I must get out more, I thought) and Romanesque sandals
adorned his feet.

'That's better, slave,' he said and began to slowly circumnavigate my
statue-like body.  He walked slowly and I could feel his eyes taking in
everything in front of him. 'Yes, much better' he murmured.

'You may look at me, slave.' I lifted my eyes. 'I am hungry, feed me.'
'But...', his look shut me up. 'Yes Master.'  I found the kitchen and
searched the fridge, discovering bacon, eggs, sausages, tomatoes and
mushrooms, perfect for a full English breakfast and set about preparing a
meal fit for my Master (Jeez, I'm losing it).

It felt really incongruous, making breakfast in a modern kitchen, dressed
as a latter day Roman slave... but whatever!

I've become a pretty dab hand at cooking, even if I do say so myself and it
didn't take me long to rustle up an appetizing meal for two. I carried the
two platefuls into the living room where my Master was lounging on a sofa,
his head propped up on a cushion and his legs crossed at the ankles. 'Your
food, Master', I said, lowering my eyes.

'Why do you have two plates?' he enquired with annoyance in his voice.

'One for you, Master, and one for me.'

'One for you? he exploded. 'One for you? Do you really think a Master would
eat with his slave? ' In one swift movement he jumped up from the sofa,
strode up to me and swung his arm, knocking my left hand and sending the
plate and its contents crashing to the floor. A tomato splattered against a
previously spotless wall.

He stood before me, shaking with anger. 'After you have fed me you will
clean that up.'  I was quite taken aback by the strength of feeling shown
by this apparently sweet young boy and found myself apologising, 'Sorry,
Master, please forgive me, it will not happen again.'

'You are right, it will not or you will be punished severely. Not lightly
like this.' He reached out his right hand and grabbed my left nipple and
squeezed it hard. My first instinct was to thump the little sadist and I
saw the reaction in the boy's eyes.

'Yes, slave, do you have something to say?'

I lowered my eyes again, 'No, Master, of course not.' 'Good, then I shall
eat.' He returned to the sofa and I offered the remaining plate to him. 'Do
you expect me to feed myself, slave?' he enquired.

'I...'

'You will feed me, hurry up, I am hungry and the food is getting cold.'

Somewhat awkwardly I got to my knees and placed the plate on a coffee table
next to the sofa. I proceeded to cut the food into manageable forkfuls, and
began to feed my Master as if he were a baby.  He ate wordlessly and
instructed me with his eyes whenever he was ready for the next mouthful. As
I offered the final piece of bacon with half a perfectly cooked fried egg
yolk attached a yellow globule fell from the fork and landed right in the
hollow between the collar bones at the bottom of his throat.

'You fool, look what you have done! Remove it.' I went to wipe it with a
finger. 'Not like that, clean it with your tongue.'

I looked at him, unsure that I had heard him right, looked at the offending
yolk which actually appeared tasty to someone who had not eaten yet and
leaned down, sticking my tongue out and gently lapped at the egg. I thought
I heard a small gasp as my wet, warm tongue came into contact with his
silky skin.

I slowly circled the hollow, continuing even after all the yolk had long
gone. I found myself strangely enjoying the experience and was disappointed
when I heard the boy say 'You may cease now, slave. You know you must be
punished?'

'But it was an accident', I protested.

 'Arguing means that your punishment will be doubled.' He rose from the
sofa. 'Stay exactly where you are', he commanded.'

I turned my head to see him retreating through the doorway and I heard him
making his way upstairs. This gave me time to reflect on the morning's
extraordinary events; Here I was, half naked, on my knees and under the
'control' of a pubescent youth! Of course, all I had to do was get up, get
dressed and leave - what was young Master Mark do about it? Nothing. - So
why wasn't I doing it? It made no sense.

Finally, I had to admit to myself that I was actually quite enjoying it -
it certainly was a diversion from my otherwise routine existence - and if I
left I'd never get to find out what other devilish plans the boy had in
store. I decided to go with the flow and see what happened; I could always
end it any time I wanted...couldn't I?






Chapter Five

I heard footsteps take the reverse journey and my Master re-entered the
room, he had his hands behind his back and a gleam in his eyes. 'Avert your
gaze, slave'. I rested the left side of my face on the sofa so that I could
not see him and waited.

You could have heard a pin drop until the silence was broken by a swish and
I had a nanosecond to wonder what it was before I found out as I heard a
thwack and simultaneously felt a sharp pain across my buttocks, 'Jesus!' I
called out involuntarily.

'Quiet, slave or your punishment will be redoubled.'

Before I knew it, a second swish and more pain, then another, another and a
fourth.... The swishing was replaced by heavy breathing by the Master
and a bit of gentle moaning from his slave.  It had been many years since
my Dad had last used his belt on me and I had forgotten the feeling - it
had hurt then and it hurt now!

'Punishing you has tired me, slave and I wish to rest; carry me to my
chamber.' With that the boy straddled my back and hooked his arms around my
neck.

'Stand up.'

I placed my hands on the sofa and pushed myself up onto my feet, as I did
so the boy wrapped his legs around my waist and held on tight with his
knees.

He felt light on my back and I moved easily with him, I assumed that his
'chamber' was upstairs and headed that way.  As I walked I became acutely
aware of his bare legs in contact with my naked torso, his body pressed
against my back and his blond head almost resting on my shoulder.

He felt and smelt good and the buzz in my loins was quickly becoming a
semi- erection, I put my hands under his knees to keep him steady and
touching his silky skin pushed it up to a full-blown hard-on. I didn't
understand why - I had never looked at boys in that way before even though
I had no strong feelings against it as 'each to his own' I always said -
but I did know that I would happily carry him this way for a long time.

Was it my imagination or could I feel a fleshy lump squishing into the
small of my back?

Before I had time to ponder any longer we reached the top of the stairs and
by manoeuvring my shoulders he directed me to his room.

 'Stand with your back to the bed', he commanded. I did so, he slipped from
my back onto the bed and I felt an immediate loss as the warmth
disappeared.  'Now, slave, clean the mess you made - make sure you leave
the room spotless - and return to me once your task is complete.'

'Yes, Master.' I replied quietly, by averting my eyes from his face I found
myself looking at his groin area and tried to make out any protuberance
that would indicate whether he had had the same reaction as me but,
infuriatingly his toga had bunched around his crotch, making it impossible
to distinguish any hidden contours and the hem stopped just short of
revealing what lay below.

I backed out of the room, went downstairs, collected various materials from
the kitchen and set about cleaning the now congealed mess from the carpet,
sofa and wall of the living room.

As I scrubbed, I thought again about my reaction to having the boy draped
around me; it was an alien sensation but one that I instinctively enjoyed
and one that I knew I would like to repeat.

I made a pretty good job of returning the room to its former state,
although a little devil in me deliberately left a smidge of bean juice on
the wall by the skirting board; just to see whether he would notice... and
what he would do about it!

My Master lay on his back with his hands behind his head and as I stood by
his bed awaiting my next task, he looked me up and down and seemed to be
deep in thought,

'Slave, I wish to defecate, carry me.'

I kneeled by the bed, facing away and he clambered, once more onto my
back. I stood and made for the doorway that led to the adjoining
bathroom. I misjudged the height and the boy's golden-haired head banged
gently into the door jamb.

'You incompetent fool! Put me down, you will pay for that.'

I placed him on the floor waiting, not without some excitement, to discover
my punishment.

'Leave me, slave and only return when I call you.'

I left the room, closing the door and waited. About 4 minutes
later.... 'Slave! Come hither.'

Obediently, I opened the door. Inside the bathroom I discovered my Master
on his knees, face on the floor and his toga-covered butt projecting
upwards.

'Clean me, slave' he said slowly.

Intrigued, I pulled a few sheets of blue toilet tissue from its roll and
knelt down behind him. I was visibly shaking as I gingerly lifted the hem
of his toga, beneath which what appeared to be a pair of silk underpants
(panties?) had been pulled down to just below a hole that was slightly
parted and smeared with newly evacuated shit.  I reached forward and gently
rubbed the tissue around the puckered orifice, depositing it in the toilet
before grabbing more sheets and repeating the process.

'Am I clean, Slave?'

'Yes, Master.'

'Are you sure, Slave?'

'Y...yes, Master, I am certain.'

'Make sure, slave.'

'How, Master? I enquired, confused.'

A moment's silence before he replied.... 'With your tongue, slave.'

Now, I had put my tongue in some odd places before; an array of pussies,
armpits, nipples and, of course, other mouths but I had never ventured into
that Dark Continent.

'What are you waiting for, slave?'

I must be mad, but I found myself leaning forward until my nose touched
bare skin, I poked out a 1/4 inch of tongue and pushed it into the pink
unknown.

A shudder ran up my spine and I felt the boy react similarly as I began to
lap, lick and poke with my suddenly willing tongue. I had done a good
cleaning job with the tissue and there was no unpleasant taste - just a
lingering whiff of deeds past - and I pushed deeper as the now squirming
boy emitted gentle moans and subdued gasps.  I put my hands on his hips to
provide me with more leverage and pushed as far in as I could.  The boy
squealed, fell forward onto his stomach and cried, 'Stop now, slave, stop!
I believe that I am clean now.'



Chapter Six



He lay quietly for a few minutes while I considered the rock hard erection
that had stretched my leather jock-strap painfully. I was breathing heavily
and my mind was even more confused; was I falling in lust with this boy,
barely into his teens?

He reached round, pulled up his underpants and told me to take him back to
the bedroom, instructing me to walk on hands and knees, like real horse,
which avoided a repeat of the previous accident.

Once back on the bed, he surveyed me once more 'Now, slave, your
punishment.'

'But I just... I thought... I thought I had been punished', I blurted.

'Silence, slave! I did not give you permission to speak - extra punishment!
- You failed to address me as Master - extra punishment! - What you did
just now was part of your duties, not a punishment.'

He beckoned me to him, 'You have forfeited the right to this.' He exclaimed
as he reached out, grasping my 'skirt' and pulling it from me with one tug.
I instinctively placed my hands in front of my genitals and felt by face
burning - Jesus, was I blushing?

'Put you hands on your head, slave,' he ordered and I quickly obeyed.

He stood and circled me slowly, a slight smirk on his face as he did so,
then he moved to the corner of the room from where he retrieved a long,
thin bamboo stick - this must have been what he hit me with earlier, I
surmised - and stood in front of me.

'You have displeased me, slave, and you will be punished, not once, not
twice but thrice!'

He looked into my eyes, trying to sense my reaction; if he had he would
have realised that a thrill had run through and I was anxious to know my
fate.

He flicked the stick across my chest, striking my left nipple and again, a
little harder and a little lower. He continued to flick/hit down my body in
approximately 2 inch increments, some strokes harder than others but none
hard enough to hurt badly.

My chest and now my stomach began to glow and red lines appeared as he kept
up a steady rhythm. Trepidation grew as he reached the waistline of my jock
but he walked around me and began the process from the top of my back,
moving downwards again.

Reaching my now exposed butt, he increased the strength of his stroke and
delivered six stinging thwacks across my bare cheeks. I bit my lip and he
moved down to the back of my thighs and then my calves, facing me again as
my shins took the pain.

Over my knees and onto my thighs; I looked at my young Master who had a
sheen of glistening sweat on his concentrating features as he went about
punishing his errant slave. His fine blonde locks stuck to his noble
forehead and his full lips were pursed.

The bamboo came closer to my overfilled jock and I held my breath; a
moment's hesitation and the boy took careful aim before landing a blow
halfway up my semi- erect cock. Wow! Now that stung. The boy checked my
face again before planting a second stroke close to the first and then a
third and a fourth.

One would have expected my abused dick to have retreated and shrunken,
however the opposite happened and it grew and hardened; I'm sure I saw my
tormentor's eyebrows lift in surprise as he ran his tongue across his lips.

He now placed the bamboo a few inches from me an began to rapidly flick up
and down my cock, occasionally catching one or both of my balls which
elicited real pain and real gasps from me.

The pain began to be replaced by a perverse pleasure and I started to feel
the familiar sensation that was the precursor to orgasm. I closed my eyes
and concentrated on letting my body do what it wanted to.... any second
now....here we go...and then it stopped!

Whether by wicked design or good fortune, the torturer had inflicted
greater pain than he had intended; I had to finish my self off and removed
my right hand from behind my head and grasped my aching cock. Thwack!! The
back of my hand received a mighty biff.

'Remove your hand, slave. You do nothing without my permission - nothing.'
His pretty face was wreathed in a wide smirk as he realised my
predicament. 'Lay on your back on the floor, slave; Time for your second
punishment.'

I meekly complied and layed down next to his bed; my whole body was aglow
after my comprehensive flagellation, not wholly unpleasant, and my cruelly
abused erection showed no signs of diminishing.

I looked up my master who was looking down at me, still breathing heavily
and sweating slightly. From this angle he appeared even more like a young
Godling, his legs appeared longer, his bare arms showed the beginnings of
muscle definition and his slender neck gave him a vulnerable appearance.

He stood with his legs slightly apart and I strained to glimpse what hung
at the apex but all I could see was a tiny patch of the white silk I had
noticed earlier. Was his young cocklet in the same state as my own adult
version, I wondered. Was this charade a sexual thing or was this kid just a
sadistic bully?

'Close your eyes, slave', he commanded.

I did so and a few seconds later my head was lifted and what I realised was
an airline- type blindfold was slipped over my eyes, not long after my arms
were pulled up and I felt a rope of some kind being tied to my wrists and
attached to who knows what.

My legs were pulled roughly apart and tied in the same way as my arms, my
heart pounded in my chest as I tried to guess what would happen next.

All of a sudden I was aware of a weight on my stomach and I felt warm,
slightly moist skin along the sides of my chest; it seemed that the boy was
kneeling across me and sitting on my stomach.

Psshhh! My right armpit was suddenly wet and slightly cold and almost
immediately an instrument was scraped across my exposed flesh. I realised
immediately...he was shaving me!

As soon as he completed that job he started onto my left pit, denuded both
my forearms and then moved further down my body, more cream was exuded and
my chest hair began to disappear. The lower he shaved the further down he
slid, until his butt was resting on my straining jock and I instinctively
began to hump upwards, seeking the relief denied me earlier.

But this was short-lived as a small fist crashed into my defenceless balls;
my attacker stayed silent and resumed his work as I moaned and groaned
hoping for the pain to subside into a dull ache.

The demon barber slipped onto my thighs and started to remove my 'treasure
trail'.  Once this was done I sensed him turning round and sitting back on
my newly shaved stomach. Starting at my ankles he shaved each leg (at least
I could ride my bike faster now, I thought!) and then, all at once, he was
gone.

He returned moments later and a cold metal touched my skin near the
waistband of my leather pouch, I heard a snip and then a second - I felt my
cock spring from its prison as the jock fell away. A warm hand lifted it
from my thighs and shaving cream was sprayed onto my balls and above my
newly liberated cock.

There was pregnant pause during which I imagined the boy was inspecting my
average (6 1/2 inch) cock. I am uncircumcised and my shaft is probably
thicker than the norm and I wondered whether mine was the first hard adult
prick my tormentor had seen.

He sat on my knees and began to scrape away at the edge of my pubic hair;
throughout the whole episode he had been surprisingly gentle and careful
(thankfully) but I was still concerned about a blade being so close to the
one I love and I held my breath as he got closer to the root of my dick.

There seemed to be a moment's hesitation and then there was that warm hand
again, this time grasping my pole, moving it to one side while the other
hand resumed its task.

I gasped as the small fingers curled around my shaft - I desperately wanted
to cum, a couple of lusty strokes would have done it - and listened to the
scrape, scrape of the blade denuding my pubic area.

He pushed and pulled my cock this way and that until he was satisfied and
then released it before starting on my scrotum - now I was really worried -
and he put one hand on the base of my cock, stretching my wrinkled skin
allowing him to shave a relatively smooth sac with his other.

The feel of his hand on my cock was exhilarating and I was disappointed
when he completed his task and got off me.

My eyes blinked as bright light flooded in - the blindfold was removed and
my Master stood above me grinning triumphantly - 'Look upon yourself,
slave, you are as a child!'

I tilted my head and observed my newly shorn body; he was right, it had
been three decades since my skin had been so bereft of hair. Actually, I
quite liked the look - and feel- my cock looked larger, like a man's dick
protruding from a boy's body and the feeling of air around my balls was
erotic.

'Ah, I am forgetting', he went into the bathroom and returned with a small,
heavy bottle. He unscrewed the cap and knelt down, upturned the bottle and
splashed the contents onto my chest.

Jesus fucking Christ! That stung like a bitch -aftershave on first-time
shaved skin - believe me, that'll make your eyes water.

He splashed it on my arm pits and then, pausing dramatically, he held the
bottle over my groin before tipping it and setting fire to my freshly-shorn
genitals!

I wriggled about, like a maggot on a fish hook -and the sweet blonde
boy-child above me giggled - yes, giggled. I wanted to slap the little shit
and tried to get up but, of course, I was hog-tied and fell back in
frustration. Even my prick had partially deflated in protest!

After a few moments my left arm was released, then pulled across my chest
and retied.  The same was done to my left leg; I was rolled onto my stomach
and tied as before.

'Two down, slave, one to go.'

What next? I wondered; this kid's imagination seemed to know no bounds - I
would soon find out.



Chapter Seven


'I have reduced you from a man to a slave and from a slave to a boy and now
I will reduce you to a beast of burden', the sonorous, unbroken voice
behind me triumphantly announced.

The blindfold was replaced and soon afterwards I felt tightness round my
chest and then my upper back and I could smell leather. What seemed to be
straps of some sort were pulled over my shoulders and I realised that the
band of leather around my torso had two holes, exposing my nipples.

The boy got off me and I could hear him opening a drawer - he knelt between
my ankles and spread my legs a little wider.

He moved up between my thighs and place hand on my butt cheek - seconds
past, as he seemed to contemplate, then...

I jumped as I felt a prodding at my anus! Harder now, more insistent; I
clamped my butt cheeks together to resist the unknown invader. Whatever it
was was hard and slightly cool and I definitely did not want in me!

'Shit!' the boy exclaimed, the prodding ceased and I heard him move away
only to return soon after. Something cold and greasy flooded my butt crack
and the hard object reappeared, once more demanding entry.  I squeezed even
harder but the lubricant made my efforts futile, the boy grunted as he
applied more pressure and my resistance was broken; with an audible plop I
was penetrated and the foreign object was within me.

'Done it!' the boy exclaimed, with evident glee and he reversed the process
again, turning me onto my back. This pushed the invader further into me and
I tried 'shitting' it out, but to avail; it was stuck fast. Strangely, I
also felt a kind of hairiness down one leg. What was that? I wondered.

My reverie was broken by a biting pain in first my left and then my right
nipple - I realised now why they had been left uncovered - as some kind of
clamps were attached. Those certainly made the pain in my butt go away!

My dick shrunk in sympathy as I bit my lip, my abused body cried out and I
began to regret going along with this.

My interest returned, however when slender fingers encircled my now
near-flaccid cock and started to masturbate me back to full-mast. The boy
moved his hand slowly, moving my foreskin over my cockhead until I was
rigid once more; my juices burbled in my still sore balls and I silently
urged my Master to quicken his pace.

Instead, he removed his hand and placed something circular over the end of
my disappointed cock; he rolled it down until he came to the root and then
he manipulated my balls through the ring which now sat tightly around my
cock and under my scrotum.

My bounds were untied and the blindfold removed; the boy stood astride me,
hands on hips and a broad grin on his face.

'On your hands and knees, slave.'

With some difficulty, I rolled onto my front and pulled myself up into the
required position. To the left of me there was a large wall mirror and I
could now see what the 'lucky raffle winner' had done to me - a leather
halter which went round my chest and back had 'reins' which went over my
shoulders and attached to the clamps that bit into my nipples, the ring on
my cock had caused it to engorge and with no pubic hair it jutted out
obscenely from my shaved body.

I blinked in disbelief as I studied my butt which now sprouted... well... a
tail - a horse's tail!

A small silken-clad butt sat on my back. 'Walk, slave.'

I hesitated, not sure what direction he wished to go and my nipples
screeched pain as the reins were pulled sharply.

'Move!'

I walked around the room as he cried 'gidiup' and slapped my
bum. Eventually he ordered me to take him to the bathroom where he
dismounted and instructed me to run him a bath - he felt soiled I was told.

My heart missed a beat - the thought that I would now see this sexy young
boy naked excited me in a way I would never have thought possible - and I
put in the plug and turned on the taps.

He sat on the loo seat while I filled the large corner bath, infusing the
water with various salts and oils I found in the small cabinet next to it.

When it was ready he walked over to me.

'Undress me, slave.'

With trembling hands I reached over and gently removed the purple sash,
folding it and laying it down carefully, I touched an ankle and he lifted a
foot allowing me to slip off a sandal and then the other one.

I stood up and, not really knowing the best way to do it, I grasped the hem
of his toga and lifted it slowly upwards; the boy raised his arms and I
carefully pulled the garb over his head.

If my cock could have got any harder it would have done then - the
near-naked boy before me glowed with androgynous beauty - his lightly
tanned skin was a flawless as his face, the slim yet taut body exuded
health and I imagined I could smell an intoxicating aroma that almost
brought a tear to my eye.

The silken panties were tight against his faintly outlined boyhood and I
reached towards them, placing my thumbs in the waistband at each hip. I
began to pull downwards....

'Stop, slave. You will not look upon your master.'

Before I knew it the blindfold had been replaced and the glorious sight was
stolen from me!

'Continue, slave.'

Heartbroken, I resumed the undressing, slowly slipping the underpants off
his hips, over his thighs and beyond his shins. He stepped out of them and
I heard him climb into the waiting hot water.


'Come hither, slave.' I heard the command from behind me. I turned round
and walked, on my knees, to where I knew the bath to be, stopping when I
encountered the edge.

'Hold out your hands.'

I waited with my palms upturned, expecting a new punishment, however
instead I found a bar of soap and a sponge placed in each hand.

'Wash me, slave... and make sure you do a good job. You don't want
another punishment just yet, do you?'

'No, Master, I will do my best, Master.'

'Good, then begin with my hands and arms.'

I wet the sponge in the hot water and rubbed the soap on it until I felt
that it was well lathered and reached out until I found a proffered hand. I
held it in my left and started to wash, gently and with great care.

I washed between his fingers, his palms and the back of his hand, then on
to his wrist, his forearm and elbow.

I could not feel a single hair on his arm; only the smooth skin, across
which I brushed the soapy sponge. Although blinded, my mind's eye tracked
the progress of my hands as I reached his upper arm; small but definable
muscles lay under my fingers.

I lowered that arm and signalled for the other, repeating my previous
actions. The only sounds were the brush of the sponge, occasional water
ripples and splashes and the slow regular breathing of Master and slave.

'My back, slave.'

I heard the boy move his position and, finding his back, I surmised that he
was on his knees and had turned sideways to me, leaning forward to give me
access.

As I lathered and scrubbed I slowly tracked the slightly prominent line of
vertebrae, down until I reached his coccyx, venturing further just below
the water-line where the valley of his arse-crack commenced....




His body moved under me and mini waves crashed against the shore of the
bath edge; I became aware of a wet foot pressed against my newly-shaved
stomach.

'Continue with my legs, slave.'

I took the foot from my belly and, having relathered the sponge, I washed
between his toes (resisting a strange urge to plunge them into my mouth),
his water-wrinkled soles, his ankles, shin and calf which offered some
evidence of boyish bum-fluff, over his knee and beyond to his thigh.

I imagined myself approaching what had now become a sort of 'promised land'
however as I reached mid-thigh and the still-hot water, the leg was pulled
from my hands and replaced with the other.

I was now experiencing severe frustration and what I considered to be an
irrational imperative to know, to feel what hung between those
freshly-washed limbs. Whether this lad knew it or not, he was a World class
tease!

Having completed the second leg, advancing no further than I had with the
first, I was instructed to wash my Master's hair; soap and sponge were
removed, shampoo was placed in my hand and I massaged a glob into his
scalp. My fingertips ran through the silky locks as I tried to clean every
strand, being as careful as I could, in my visually impaired state, to
avoid shampoo leaking into his eyes - an event that would almost certainly
result in another punishment for this lowly slave!

The head fell from under my hands and I thought I could hear the boy slide
under the water, re-emerging moments later having rinsed the soap from his
hair.

'My front, slave,' my Master ordered and returned the sponge and soap to
me. I began at his throat and travelled to his chest, washing with small,
circular motions; I felt his sharp collar bones and then his small
nipples. Daringly, I allowed my thumb to leave the sponge and rub gently
against the nubs which I swear grew erect under my ministrations.

With regret, I left his pectorals and journeyed South, finding a new 'toy'
- a delightful tummy button which was only just an 'inni' - and I played
happily, trying to unearth evidence of a six-pack to come, before I
ventured lower... only to discover that my path was blocked by the ceramic
of the bath against which the boy's pubic bone rested.

He moved away and I was left, in my kneeling position, holding my cleaning
materials and waiting...and waiting...

Of course, I couldn't see but it seemed as if the boy was contemplating,
coming to a decision. Eventually, an unseen hand grabbed one of mine and
guided me to unwashed flesh; in this case his pert white butt.

My cock seemed to grow yet again as I lathered and massaged the twin
globes, along his crack and around his pale pink hole. (Having already
cleaned it only a little time before I did not need to imagine what was
under my fingertips!)

Then, taking me completely by surprise, he spun 180 degrees and all of a
sudden I found what I had thought to be an ungainable treasure presented to
my now trembling fingers.

Unsure, I stopped washing and just held the fragile package in my palm.

'What are you waiting for, slave? Continue your task,' my Master snapped,
his voice an octave higher than before.

Emboldened, I took his young penis in my left hand, pulling it up against
his stomach to allow me to gain access to his scrotum which I sponged with
my right. His developing balls bounced gently as I worked, using less and
less of the sponge and more of my curious fingers.

His sac was bald and hung loosely as I delicately kneaded the spherical
contents. The penis in my left hand felt to be about 3 inches long with a
circumference similar to my little finger and now it began to harden and
grow. In no time it had expanded to maybe 4 1/2 inches and fattened up
considerably; I began to sponge it with my right while maintaining my grip
with the left.

As I washed I started to move my fingers along his shaft, the skin rubbing
over the ridge at the base of his cock-head. (He was uncut- like me).

 I heard the boy's breathing quicken and he began to push his pelvis into
my hand, I released the sponge, dropping the pretence and continued to
manipulate his dick and caress his balls, reaching a finger along his
perineum eliciting a gasp and a shudder from the boy.

Hands grasped the back of my head and pulled my face towards the pulsating
organ.  Even in the midst of this sexual fervour my instinct was to resist;
I had no experience of non-female sex or interaction with minors. I was
pulled harder and I felt the tip of my Master's cock pushing against my
closed lips.

Still I resisted until suddenly a mental dam burst and I opened my mouth to
find it quickly filled with boy cock.. I was immediately struck by the
strange yet alluring mixture of velvet softness enclosing a steely
hardness.

As a virgin cock-sucker I was experiencing a steep learning curve and as
the boy piston rammed up against the back of my throat I tried to harmonise
my reverse movements to meet his.

I put my hands on his butt cheeks and helped him to push his rampant cock
even deeper; my nose banged up against his, as yet, naked pubic bone and
his jangling balls slapped my saliva covered chin.

A strangled grunt came from above me, the invading muscle grew yet again
and a burst of sweet nectar sprayed my throat, followed by another and
three or four more.  The boy whimpered and his knees buckled; I held him
tight and milked the final drops from his still rigid pole, swirling my
tongue around the slit in his teenage cockhead.


The hands on the back of my head slipped the blindfold from my eyes; I
blinked as the harsh bathroom light attacked my retinas, however as they
became re-accustomed I focused on the scene directly in front of me.

The stark white of the boy's naked pubis contrasted with the honey brown of
his tanned stomach which was still palpitating as his breathing slowed and
I could just see the last inch of his cock, a bridge between my mouth and
his body.

The boy grasped my hair, pulling my head back causing the rest of his slick
penis to slip from my disappointed mouth. I looked up and saw him surveying
me from above, our eyes locked for a second and I felt a wave of what can
only be described as love sweep over me which was really weird considering
that I had been beaten, humiliated and now orally raped by this teenage
sadist!

'Look upon me, slave. I am your Master and you are totally in my power.'
The sweet mouth curled in cruel half smile.

I lowered my eyes and drank in my first opportunity to survey the erstwhile
object of my desires; His pale shaft was three quarters erect and maybe
four and a bit inches long, thick as a fine Havana cigar. A dark blue vein
traversed its length, terminating at the edge of his crinkled foreskin
which half covered a mid-purple head from which a dribble of my own saliva
hung.

Below the root two walnut sized balls were suspended in a hairless, silken
purse.

'Beautiful!' The whispered word came unbidden and hung in the heavy
atmosphere. I looked up at the boy again and, for a moment he appeared
uncertain, hesitant...

At last he broke the silence; 'Go, slave, you have work to do. This
afternoon I have friends visiting, I require you to prepare a feast in
their honour. They will arrive in two hours so you will have to work
quickly. Return to me when it is done - now go!'



Chapter Eight


Reluctantly I got to my feet, stole a last, lingering look at the young
Godling standing in the bath, turned and left the room, making my way
downstairs to the kitchen.

Once there I discovered well stocked cupboards and freezers; the food I
found was hardly the fare of Roman feasts - pizzas, hamburgers, hot dogs,
ice cream, some salad and fruit but not a dormouse or roasting swan in
sight!

I set about my task with relish; if he wanted a feast I'd make him a
feast. I had no idea how many friends would be coming so I made loads and
after an hour and a half all the kitchen surfaces were covered with
cholesterol filled teenage delights (I just hoped that his friends were not
all meat hating vegetarians).

Having made sure that there was plenty of coke and other soft drinks in the
fridge, noticing that one shelf was completely filled with Bud (his
Dad's?), I quietly went upstairs and into Master Mark's bedroom.

He was asleep, laying on his back, arms and legs akimbo...naked. I could
see his chest rising and falling in time with his steady breathing and his
recently rampant cock now soft and lying on his left hip.

I looked at his sweet face and again wondered how such an angel could be
such a devil. I was drawn to the lips of his partly open mouth and felt a
deep, irresistible urge to kiss the slumbering boy; I tiptoed over to the
bed and leant over the sleeping beauty, moving slowly until my lips hovered
over his. I closed the final two inch gap and brushed his cupid's bow with
my quivering mouth. A delicious wave of honey-soaked pleasure swept over me
and I pushed down, running my tongue along the pearly white teeth and began
to invade the gap between them towards his own taste bud covered organ.

With a start, his eyelids opened and he looked directly into my half-closed
eyes only a couple of inches away. He bit down on my intruding tongue, the
intense pain causing me to pull away sharply, lacerating my sensitive organ
in the process.

'Oh, slave, what have you done? Why do you incur the wrath of your Master?
You know that you must be punished?'

'Yeth Mathter,' my quickly swelling tongue causing me to lisp slightly,
'sorry Mathter.'

'Lucky for you, I don't have the time right now; my guests will be arriving
soon so come hither and dress me.'

He showed me where he kept an identical pair of silk underpants and I
carefully slid them up his legs until I reluctantly covered his milky butt
and boyhood charms. I re- dressed him in his toga and positioned the purple
sash, finally slipping the leather sandals onto his newly washed feet.

He ordered me to take him downstairs and climbed onto my back; loving the
feel of him clinging to my neck, I walked slowly, breathing in his aroma.

Once downstairs he dismounted, lay on the sofa and set me to various tasks
including putting on some incomprehensible teenage music and lighting
nostalgia-inducing joss sticks. When all was ready he had me kneel in front
of him and he rested his feet on my back while we waited for his friends to
arrive.



Chapter Nine


About ten minutes later the door bell rang. 'Wait in the kitchen, slave,
until I call you.'

Slightly surprised, (though I later realised that a passer-by, seeing a
naked man in leather bondage welcoming a group of young boys might raise an
alarm!), I did as I was told and listened to the boy opening the door and
heard a number of young voices; 'Wow, Mark. Cool outfit.'  'Are your
'rents' really away?'  'Did you get the suds?'  And, most intriguingly...
'What about... you know... did you...?

I heard multiple footsteps troop into the living room as the babble of
voices continued, boyish giggles interspersing the rapid conversations.

Mark was saying something I couldn't quite make out and the noise quietened
to an expectant hum.

'Slave - come hither!'

Time for by big entrance, I thought; I should have been embarrassed, I
should have been a little scared. I should really have just said 'fuck it',
got dressed and pissed off home, leaving my pervy 'Master' to it.
But... but I actually feel a bit of a thrill at the prospect of parading my
naked, tumescent self in front of a gaggle of pubescent boys.

Standing up tall and putting on my best 'slave face' I took a deep breath
and entered the living room.

'You called, Master?'

'HOLY SHIT!!'

I was confronted by an array of teen Romans attired in a mixture of togas,
ranging from some as good as Mark's to what looked like half a bed sheet
hastily thrown on.  A short, dark-haired boy on my left had uttered the
expletive; his eyes were wide and his jaw hung slackly as he stared at my
bushy tail and rock-hard, purple-headed cock.

'Jesus, Mark, you weren't kidding - you fucking did it!' spluttered a tall,
skinny kid who sported long strawberry blonde hair and a mouth that
appeared to belong to somebody with a bigger face.

'Of course, Jason' replied my beaming Master, 'how could you doubt me?'

All the boys now stood in front of me, in a semi-circle, taking in the
spectacle before them; a middle-aged man, not slim but not fat, without a
hair on his body which showed the results of a recent whipping and wearing
a leather halter clamped to his nipples, while a horse's tail protruded
from his butt and a ring surrounded his swollen genitals!

As they inspected me, I took the opportunity to spec them out. Apart from
the two I already mentioned, Jason and the short dark-haired boy, there
were three other guests; a large boy of Afro-Caribbean heritage whose ebony
skin shone against the bright white of his toga, a smaller boy with
straight, almost black hair, olive skin and pearly white teeth and next to
him, a smaller, younger version of the same thing.

I guessed that they were brothers (the elder probably only able to attend
the party if he took the younger), all the boys appeared to be around 12 or
13 with the youngest perhaps 10 or 11.

After a couple of minutes of mutual observation Mark said 'my guests are
hungry and thirsty, slave. Provide them with food and drink.'

'Yes, Master, at once Master.'

The young Italian-looking kid burst out laughing, 'he called you Master,
that's so weird!'  'Shut up, Mario', said the older brother 'or I'll slap
you.'

'Yeah and then I'll tell Mum about this party and you'll be grounded for
life' Mario retorted.

'Whatever?', sighed the bigger boy.

 I returned to the kitchen and brought back a selection of food which I
distributed amongst the crew. They seemed to like it and I fetched
more... and more; I'd forgotten what voracious appetites teenagers have.

'Hey, Mark, I'm really thirsty - how about something to drink?' the black
kid asked.

'Just give your order to the slave, Brandon. My slave is your slave!'

'Neat, Mark' he grinned. And looking at me; 'Whatcha got... slave?'

'Coke, Pepsi, 7 up, Sprite... milk.'

'I thought you said there'd be beer, Mark', Brandon whined.

'Sure there is, Buddy; three dozen bottles chilling as we speak. You want
one just ask.'

'OK, beer please.'

'You don't say please to a slave you dummy' sneered Jason. 'Just order, he
has to do anything you say! Slave, bring me and my friends beer - NOW.'

'Yes, Master' I intoned in my best slave voice and fetched a cold 6 pack,
handing a bottle to each boy apart from the youngest; there are limits.

'I want a Bud' he moaned.

'You're too young, Mario. You'll puke up' his brother warned.

'If I'm too young then so are you, Anthony' he said, sticking out his chin.

'Go on, Anthony, let him. It'll be a laugh' suggested Jason.

'OK, OK, give him a damn beer.'

Mario snatched a bottle out of my hand, popped the cap and threw his head
back as he chugged the amber liquid.

Almost immediately, he began to splutter, his eyes watered and beer
streamed from his nose. He took the bottle from his mouth, bent his head
and started coughing. This elicited instant mirth from his elder friends
who popped their own bottles and drank the ale in manageable slugs.  The
atmosphere quickly became more boisterous as the alcohol kicked in. The
voices got louder and expletives peppered every sentence. There was a lot
of general roughhousing and by the time most of the boys had drunk 2
bottles (not including Mario who had begun swaying before he finished his
first) any inhibitions had long dissolved.

'What are we going to do now Mark?' demanded the short dark-haired boy
whose name I now knew was Josh, 'we need some action.'

'Sure thing, how about we play Gladiator? This is a Roman party after
all. We'll draw lots and pair off in wrestling combats until we have a
winner.'

They all agreed except Mario who said that it wouldn't be fair as he was
the smallest so it was agreed that his opponent should only use one arm.

They drew the names and the first bout was between Jason and Josh; they
cleared a large space in the middle of the room and prepared for battle.

'Before we start' said Jason, 'what is the prize for the winner?'

Mark pondered for a while, and then his eyes lit up, 'the winner has
exclusive use of my slave for 15 minutes... to do anything you want.'

'Fair enough', said Jason 'let's go.'

The boys circled each other and then Josh went in low taking the taller
boy's legs and pulling him to the ground. Quickly he threw himself on top
of Jason and tried to pin him. However, after the initial surprise Jason,
with alcohol fuelled strength, rolled him off and reversed the situation,
sitting on Josh's chest and holding down his shoulders.

Both the boy's togas had become disarrayed; Jason's had come off his
shoulder, revealing a skinny white torso and Josh's had ridden up beyond
his thighs allowing a pair of tighty-whities to come into full view, his
young dick clearly outlined above the bulge that was his balls.

'Submit', demanded Jason. 'No way', cried Josh.

The boy on top lifted his butt off his victim and crashed down quickly onto
his solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him. 'Submit?'

'OK, OK, get off me', Josh wheezed, pushing the victor off him.

Mario was disgusted to get Anthony as his opponent and despite the handicap
his brother emerged victorious even though the younger boy had tried
squeezing Mario's testicles as a last resort!

Mark and Brandon went last and even though the black boy was bigger than
him, my Master put up a good fight which lasted the longest until he
finally succumbed.

The three winners now had to fight each other; Jason and Brandon obviously
colluded and pounced on Anthony who was defeated in seconds. This left the
last two fighting for the championship.

For a slight kid, Jason did well but he was never going to overcome the raw
strength of Brandon who duly pinned his opponent to the cheers of the
onlookers.

Mark raised his hand above his head: 'The champion!' he announced. 'Now,
name your reward.'

Brandon who was perspiring slightly, beads of sweat glistening on his
forehead looked uncertain. 'I don't really know... I not sure what..., you
know... what I could...have.'

Mark leaned over to Brandon and whispered in his ear. The dark eyes
widened; 'He'd do that?' he asked.

'He'll do anything I tell him to... anything!'

'OK' said Brandon, hesitantly, 'for my reward I want your slave
to... to... (he looked over at Mark who nodded) to... suck my cock!'



Chapter Ten



There was a second's silence and the other boys seemed to draw a
simultaneous breath before Anthony blurted, 'a blow job - wicked. You lucky
bastard!'

I looked at Mark who fixed me with his clear blue eyes, 'you have your
command, slave - do as ordered.'

'Yes, Master, as you command.' The rewardee looked uncertain so I decided
to help him; I put my hands on his shoulders and gently led him to the
sofa, sat him down, pulling his legs towards me until his butt rested on
the edge of the seat cushion.

I was aware that the other boys had moved closer and were jostling for
position to get the best view and out of the corner of my eye I noticed
that Jason had magiced a video camera from somewhere and was doing a
Spielberg.

OK, if they want a show, I'll give them a show. I thought; I kneeled
between his legs and placed my hands on his naked thighs, running them up
and down his well defined legs and getting higher with every slide.

He instinctively spread his knees as I reached his groin, my fingers
reached over his hips while my thumbs brushed his now partially exposed
underwear, a white jock- strap, rocking a pair of balls that felt bigger
than my Master's.

Brandon had his eyes closed, his head back and he was taking short breaths;
I ran my hands higher, my thumbnails scraping along his already rigid staff
until I scaled his summit, a prominent ridge prefaced his throbbing
cock-head. A small wet spot darkened the cotton prison.

I pushed the hem of his toga up and onto his chest, fully exposing him to
me and his friends, some of whom were already fingering their own obvious
erections. Lowering my head, I put out my tongue and licked his left thigh,
running from his knee to his groin and then along his right, blowing warm
air through the jock and onto his balls.

He gasped and then again as I play-bit his nut-sack and nibbled my way up
his cock until I reached his taught, black stomach; my wet tongue swirled
in his cute belly button and descended again. I eased the jock's waist-band
away from the boy's aching flesh and exposing his ruby pink, helmet-shaped
cock-head.

My tongue flicked the winking piss-slit and then I lapped at the rest of
the slick, circumcised head. I ran the tip of my tongue under the
escarpment that marked the division between cock and head as I slipped the
jock down to his knees where gravity gave a hand and it fell to his ankles.

It was the turn of the assembled voyeurs to gasp; stereotypical it may be
but Brandon was the owner of a big dick - not big in the man sense but
definitely in boy sense!

The black beam that jutted from the boy's groin was not overlong - maybe 5
1/2 inches - but the girth was at least at great, close to my own. Heavy
looking balls were slung below in a large scrotum, lightly covered with
tight black curls, more of which painted a 2 inch slash above his mighty
tool.

Jason moved the camera closer as I went back to work; I pushed his knees
further apart spreading his legs wide and took his left testicle into my
mouth, rolling it with my tongue, then the right one.

'Man, this is awesome!' I heard Josh say in hushed tones. There was a
murmur of assent from the others. 'Watch out he doesn't bite 'em off
Brandon' warned Mario who had leaned in to get a better look. This brought
titters - some nervous, I thought.

Tracking up the fat engorged shaft I came again to the pulsating head,
taking it fully into my mouth and pulling it away from the boy's body. I
pushed down further until maybe half the length was engulfed. I commenced a
slow rhythmic bobbing, being careful to keep my teeth away from the
sensitive skin.

This was not easy as my mouth was being stretched unnaturally, and remember
that I was still a novice cock-sucker!

A novice maybe but an increasingly willing one; I found the experience of
controlling the sexual pleasure of the boy with my mouth, whilst being
controlled, exhilarating.

Brandon was pushing his hips up to meet my downward moves and more and more
of his black rod was disappearing into my mouth. Eventually his ramming
cock-head reached the back of my throat and my nose rubbed against soft
pubic curls. I thought I would gag but I managed to control the urge and
increased my speed to meet Brandon's urgent thrusts.

I entered a kind of mystical state where his dick and my mouth became one
throbbing organism and the world beyond us became blurred and distant. I
grasped his butt cheeks and kneaded the pumping muscles.

His tempo increased again and my nose bashed his pubic bone as is weapon
attacked my tonsils.

In the distance I heard someone - Josh, I think - 'Yeah, Brandon - go man
go!'

Feeling that he was nearly ready, I lifted his legs over my shoulders and,
as I felt his boyhood harden and thicken, I located his butt hole and
pushed my middle finger in, up to the first knuckle. Brandon shuddered and
then, bucking wildly, he came... and came... and came. Six or seven violent
bursts - each one accompanied by cries of 'Gnnna fuck! - Aaagh shit! - Oh
my God! - Fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!

Most of his boy juice shot down my throat, the remainder coated my now
tired mouth and I savoured the unique flavour, rubbing my tongue around my
cheeks and across my teeth. A small bead of Brandon cum oozed from his
deflating member and I scooped it up with the tip of my tongue.

The boy lay back on the sofa, his sweat covered chest heaving and his arms
limp at his side. 'That was specfuckingtacular!' he sighed. 'I never
imagined it would be like that. It definitely beats jacking off!'

I looked at the other boys and every one of them hand their hands under
their togas, their eyes wide with excitement. 'I wanna get me a slave'
muttered Anthony. 'Don't look at me!' joked Mario, 'I'm not going to suck
your smelly dick.'

'What now, Mark?' asked Jason, 'My dick's as hard as granite and I need to
cum real bad!

'Let's have another beer first', suggested Mark. My slave is owed a
punishment from earlier - we'll discuss it while he gets us refills.'

Recognising a command, I got off my knees and went to the kitchen to fetch
the drinks. As I left, Brandon, suddenly embarrassed at being naked in
front of his mates, pulled on his jock and readjusted his toga.

When I returned the boys were in a huddle whispering urgently. I waited at
a respectful distance until they had come to an agreement, high-fiving each
other and grinning before coming to take the beers from me.

The five other boys stood just behind Mark who drew himself up and prepared
to speak... I was about to hear my fate!



Chapter Eleven



'Slave; you have been found guilty of perpetrating a most serious crime,
that of a personal attack upon the body of your master!

In times past, this would have invoked capital punishment, probably carried
out by wild beasts, in front of 300,000 spectators. However we live in more
enlightened times so I am prepared to be merciful. This does not mean that
your punishment will be light however...'

A small rectangular, wooden, table was brought into the room; it was about
2ft 6 long and 18 inches wide and stood around 2ft 9 high. I was led to it
and made to bend over until my chest and stomach lay across it, lengthwise.

This meant that my naked pubic bone was pressed into the table edge and my
chin jutted off the other end. I felt my legs being roughly pulled apart,
then bindings went round my knees and ankles attaching them to the rear
table legs. My tail hung between my thighs and rested against my swollen
balls.

  More rope encircled my back, went under the table and was knotted between
my shoulder blades. My elbows were tied to the front table legs, leaving my
forearms and hands unfettered.

The boys had worked quickly and now stood back to admire their handiwork;
'Is that right, Mark?' asked Jason.

'Yes, perfect. Right, Anthony and Josh, you go first - remember, ten each
and then Mario and Jason, followed by Brandon and me.'

The nominated boys disappeared from sight, there was a moments silence,
Mark nodded his head and I felt a skin on skin thwack on my left arse
cheek, followed by the same on my right. Left, right, left right; the boys'
open hands slapped against my defenceless bum.

After 10 on each side the next two took over with the smaller boy, Mario,
going about his task with gusto, whack 'take that you bad fucking slave',
whack ' I'm gonna make your arse red raw'. Whack!

By the time Mark and Brandon got started I was so numb that their slaps
were almost ineffectual but this didn't stop them going at it or their
mates cheering them on.

'OK, that should have warmed him up', crowed Josh. 'That will teach him to
put his tongue where it doesn't belong!'

'I've got a better place for him to put it', chirped Anthony who came to
the front of the table, turned round, lifted his toga, revealing a pair of
powder blue underpants which he pulled down, exposing a pert, honey
coloured butt. He leaned forward causing his cheeks to part and pushed back
towards my face. He used his hands to open them wider and shoved his pink
hole against my mouth.

I had already been there (or somewhere similar) today, so knew what was
required and I pushed out my tongue, dancing lightly on the puckered skin
and then delving deeper. 'ooooh', whimpered the squirming boy.

'That is sooo gross', said Mario.

'Don't knock it, little brother, it's the weirdest... oh my
God... aahh... greatest sensation I've ever... ohhhh...experienced.'

As I lapped and probed, I felt my tail being played with; the plug being
pushed in deeper and then pulled back but not quite out and then back in
again. The same person (I presumed) began to jiggle my balls, flicking them
from side to side and then grabbing the end of my prick, bending it down
and letting it bounce up onto the underside of the table.

'OK, guys, lets stick to the plan', called Mark. 'First four in position.'

Anthony stepped away from my tiring tongue and turned round, presenting a
truly beautiful cock; it was slender, honey-coloured and his dark pink head
peaked out from a foreskin as flawless as the rest of this 4 inch dick. It
was hard and almost perpendicular, appearing stuck to the boy's slim
stomach.

At the base, black hair had pushed its way through the young skin and a
fine pelt of the silkiest pubes set off the picture.

I wanted this penis in my mouth (was I the same person who had entered this
house only a few hours ago?), and as Anthony aimed the tip at my lips I
stretched forward and engulfed the gorgeous tool, slurping greedily and
inhaling the special boy aroma as my nose rubbed against those soft black
hairs.

I became aware of two other boys standing next to and at right angles to
Anthony.  Turning my head left then right I could see that it was Josh and
my Master. My hands were lifted and guided to a pair of rampant cocks,
released from their prisons and I grasped them and began to wank them
gently. I recognised Mark's toy while Josh's felt fat and stubby with a
wide, circumcised head.

I was trying to coordinate my triple movements when I heard Jason say,
'here, Brandon, take the video for me.'

'Sure Jase, go for it!'

I felt a pull on my tail and then a harder tug; my arsehole released the
plug with an audible pop and I could feel that it remained slightly
open. Hands (obviously Jason's) grasped my cheeks, pulling them apart. Of
course I knew what to expect next and it happened... Jason placed his cock
against my still lubed hole and started to push; I grimaced and almost bit
down on Anthony's ramming rod. I tried to close my butt hole, clenching my
cheeks against the invader.

'It won't go in', complained Jason.

'He's stopping you', opined Mario. 'I'll help you.'

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him duck under the table. 'Try now,' he
said.

Jason pushed again - I resisted - then a small hand grasped my scrotum and
twisted.  My concentration vanished, my arse cheeks relaxed and Jason's
cock slipped into my virgin hole!

There was pain but not as much as I might have imagined (after all, I
reasoned to myself, I dumped turds twice the size of this boy-cock!) and
after a short time even this began to ease.

This intrusion caused me to lose my rhythm with the other three boys; Mark
put a hand on mine, urging me to resume my ministrations and Anthony,
frustrated by the interruption, grasped my head with both hands and thrust
his throbbing dick into my willing mouth, ancient instincts driving his
pelvis.

Meanwhile, Jason took the opportunity to spear his way fully into my
rectum; I could feel his pubic bone crashing into my cheeks and his
maturing balls ringing against my upper thighs. Before long, by design or
accident, the two boys harmonised; as Jason thrust, Anthony withdrew and
vice versa. I could hear the table legs groan as the pace increased, the
boys' young sperms boiling in their swinging testicles as they approached
their climaxes.

A kind of wild giggle came from under the table, 'This is so cool. I can
see Jason's dick going in and out of the slave's arse... he's actually
fucking him! I mean really FUCKING him!!

Mario giggled again and gave my straining cock a couple of slaps. 'Boing,
boing', he laughed. 'Hurry up, you two; I want a go.'

His wish was granted almost immediately, as first Anthony and then Jason
unloaded their pent up cum into my orifices; Anthony letting out girlish,
high-pitched squeals and Jason grunting, pig-like, as their orgasms took
hold of them.

I was aware of Brandon moving in for a close-up as a dribble of cum escaped
my mouth and dripped off my chin. I continued to swallow as best I could
and held the drained flesh tight until Anthony eased it out and away.

Jason also withdrew and I experienced a feeling of loss, of
emptiness... but not for long; Anthony's cock was almost immediately
replaced by a shorter, fatter version as Josh almost pushed his friend out
the way and, having first whacked my nose with his wildly swaying cock,
found my mouth and started to pound away for all he was worth.

My Master also released his handsome dick from my grasp and, moving behind
me, filled my anal passage with 4 1/2 inches of best quality teenage cock.

Brandon handed the camera back to Jason and pushed himself into my right
hand which, like Pavlov's dog, started to manipulate the black man-size
meat.

Mario came out from under the table and stood next to Josh, he pulled up
his toga, revealing a pair of Star Wars underpants and I had a close up of
a light sabre wielding Luke Skywalker before he whipped them down and a
delightful sprig of tumescent boy-flesh sprang up, bouncing like a young
lamb.

I reached with my left hand and caressed the baby dick; it was longer than
his brother's by maybe 1/2 an inch but where Anthony's was like a Havana,
Mario's resembled a Panatela. He had a long foreskin and the pink head was
just visible while his hairless scrotum was tight against his body, his boy
balls jiggling as I wanked him.

While Josh continued at his frantic pace, pummelling my cheeks, the roof of
my mouth and even my teeth, Mark established a slow, controlled rhythm. His
hands held my hips to give him more purchase and I began to discover (late
in life) the unique joy provided by having teen cocks titillate my
prostate.

Probably due, in part, to my earlier hand work on Josh's stiffy, he rushed
to an explosive climax, coating my mouth yet again in hot boy cum. The
violence of his thrusts and the relative shortness of his dick caused it to
leave my lips and the last two or three spurts hit my face, a spermy
dewdrop hanging from my nose.

Jason was now laying under the table, videoing the action. 'Great cum shot,
Josh...  way to go, my man!' I heard him moving to the other end of the
table and felt the camera lens on my cock as he went for the ultimate close
up. 'Tell you what, Mark; I reckon your slave's dick is going to explode at
any moment. The head is really purple and looks ready to burst! He must
want to cum real bad.'

'All part of his punishment', panted Mark as he stepped up his pace. 'If
his 'bomb' does explode... make sure you get it on camera, it'll look great
on the internet!'

All the boys laughed, 'weapon of mass-turbation destruction' quipped
Anthony, who, not wishing to be left out of the fun, had picked up my
'tail' and was playfully flogging my back with it.

His friends groaned at this contrived pun, 'whatever' sighed Anthony.

Mark was now pistoning in and out of my anus at great speed until with a
roar; he unleashed his second load of the day, spasming furiously until
finally collapsing onto my back where I could feel his heaving chest and
sense his pounding heart.

'That - that is so much better that jerking off, I mean... WOW!'

'My turn, my turn' interjected Mario who replaced Josh in front of me,
eager for me to blow his popsicle. He had a problem however - despite him
standing on tip-toe and me straining my neck, the twain would not meet!

'Not fair', he whined, in frustration, trying to stretch his cocklet up to
my lips. This cracked up the older boys, especially his brother who lay on
his back and kicked his legs in the air, 'dying ant' style. 'Ah, poor
diddums; is he too little to get his wiener sucked? Never mind - come back
when you're a big boy...ha ha ha.'

 'Shut up, Anthony, you prick' shouted Mario, who actually had tears in his
eyes. He landed a kick into the ribs of his laughing brother, who just
cackled louder.

'Here, Mario, try this' smiled Brandon, as he placed a small footstool on
the floor in front of me.  'Thanks, Brandon' said Mario, his face
brightening. He hopped up on the stool, the extra 6 inches of height
placing his fleshy nail directly in front of my swollen lips. My mouth
accepted the 11 year old pricklet which reminded me of a warm stick of
asparagus. It slipped straight to the back of my throat and I reached out
my tongue, lapping at the young balls before engulfing the entire nut sac.

'Oooooeeew!' whimpered Mario. 'He's got all of me in his mouth, this is one
awesome party!'

I swirled my tongue across the head and sucked hard on the rigid shaft as
the young boy arched his back with excruciating pleasure.

'Look at your little bro' go Anthony', called Jason from under the table,
'I think he's going to faint! It's making me horny again.'

He came out from under and, having passed the camera to Josh, pushed his
hardening cock into my left hand, prodding against my palm.

Anthony, obviously inspired, lifted my right hand to his beautiful boyhood
and I rubbed his moist cockhead with my thumb, feeling it stiffen quickly.

My attention moved to my butt which was being assaulted by the thick, ebony
cock belonging to Brandon; my arse cheeks stretched to accommodate him and
after some huffing and puffing from the boy and pushing out from me, the
fat shaft filled my oh so recently virgin hole.

Animal instincts took over and the man/boy thumped into me, his strong back
and butt muscles propelling his rivet into my anal sheath. He came hard and
at the same moment as Mario experienced probably his first dry orgasm,
thrashing wildly and making strange, inhuman noises.

This double whammy took the other two boys to the edge and they pulled out
of my hands and began to wank themselves furiously until seconds later they
catapulted harmonised strings of hot cum onto my face, my nose, eyes and in
my hair.

Brandon withdrew his spent cock and I felt a cocktail comprising the
contents of half a dozen pubescent testicles oozing from my ravished hole
and running down onto my recently shaved scrotum.



Chapter Twelve



My lips were sore, my jaw ached, my eyes were almost glued shut by drying
boy-cum and the ropes round my elbows, knees and back were chaffing my
skin... yet... yet I was experiencing a surreal contentment - I believed
that I had given everything I had to provide the kids with an unforgettable
experience, made my Master proud and discovered things about myself that I
had no idea existed!

The only disappointment for me was that I had not been allowed to join in
the cum- fest but at least I would have enough memories to give me jerk-off
material for a long time to come.

'The punishment is concluded - release the slave', ordered Mark. My bonds
were untied by the boys and I slowly raised myself of the table, stretching
my aching muscles. I surveyed the boys standing in front of me, mini Romans
pulling up their underwear and adjusting their togas; most of them avoided
my eyes and looked a little sheepish, their manly desires having been
assuaged they were acting more like the young boys there were.

'Hey, Mark, you want to get on the PS2?' asked Anthony.

'Sure, good idea - anybody else up for it?'

There was a chorus of assent and, led by Mario, the boys filed out of the
room and upstairs to Mark's bedroom - all accept Mark himself, who looked
at me with what could have been grudging admiration and ordered me to tidy
up the living room and then to bring ice cream up to his room for his
friends. He turned on his heel, stopping and swivelling his head to look at
me. He raised an eyebrow. 'Yes, Master of course, Master' I remembered to
say. He gave a wry smile and left.

The job took over half an hour, I cleaned round the kitchen as well and
took the opportunity to wash my face, devour some cold pizza (I was
starving!) and even risked chugging a beer (I mean - what more could they
do to me?).

Having spooned mountains of variously flavoured ice cream into 6 bowls I
carried them upstairs to the boys who were sitting on the bed or
cross-legged on the floor, each with a games console on their laps, playing
some 'shoot the aliens' type game, whooping and hollering at the 45 inch
screen and each other.

They took the bowls without looking up, hurriedly spooning the cold dessert
into their mouths between laser gun-bursts. I stood to one side, awaiting
further instructions but none came so I stood watching the gang of kids
enjoying themselves as kids do. I couldn't believe that only a short time
ago this bunch of innocents was gang-raping me top and bottom!

Over the next hour or so the boys ignored me, even though Mario would often
steal glances, staring fixedly at my still rigid cock, while fingering his
own smaller version.  I mused with the image of the 11 year old taking my
dick in his thin fingers and guiding it between his blood-red lips (this
morning I awoke as a 'normal' red-blooded heterosexual and here I am, a few
short hours later, contemplating putting my cock into the mouth of a
boy-child!)

After the previous intensity, the 'party' ended with a whimper; Josh
announced that he needed to get home and all the other boys decided to
leave then too. I opened the front door to let them out, Mario went first,
stopping and turning towards me. His eyes flicked up and then back down to
his feet.

 'Er...thanks... er..., slave.'

'My pleasure, young Master', I replied, bowing slightly.

'The other boys chimed in, 'Yeah, thanks, slave; it was great.'

'Awesome.'

'Unbelievable'

'The best day of my life!'

'Fucking brilliant - or brilliant fucking', sniggered Jason.

Mario reached out and stroked his hand along my purple-headed cock, then
stepped outside. His brother did the same, followed by the other four lads,
Brandon was last and he gave my balls a squeeze as well, winking and
smiling before saying, 'maybe we can do this again sometime?'

Cheeky bugger, I thought, my mind already contemplating the pleasure that a
new rendezvous with the boy's black rod of iron would bring.

'It was an honour to serve my young Master and his friends', I smiled,
bowing deeply.

'Cool. See ya, Mark - thanks again.'

With that, I closed the door and my Master and I were left alone
again. There was a strangely awkward silence while we surveyed each
other. Eventually, Mark announced that he was tired (I couldn't think why!)
and ordered me to carry him to his bed.

He clambered onto my back, the feel of his skin on mine rekindling my
senses and I wearily scaled the stairs, entered his room and laid him
gently onto his bed. He rolled onto his side and pulled his legs up to his
chest. I covered him with the duvet and he sighed contentedly, like a
little boy being tucked in by his Mummy. I resisted the urge to kiss his
temple and stood looking at the sweet, fair-haired boy who had so recently
orchestrated an orgy of juvenile perversion.

As he closed his eyes he motioned towards the small single bed under the
bedroom window; 'You have done well, slave - you deserve to rest.'

I was surprised by this uncharacteristic generosity, however I did not look
this gift horse in the mouth - I sat on the bed that I presumed was there
for when Mark had school friends sleeping over and then stretched out, my
feet overlapping the mattress by a few inches.

My body ached - my mouth and lips were swollen, my ravaged arse hole was
sore and the rest of my body hummed in response to the abuse it had
suffered. My prick remained resolutely upright and I considered removing
the ring and relieving myself of the pent up sexual frustration accumulated
over the past few hours, however a tsunami of tiredness overwhelmed me and
I gave myself up to the welcoming arms of Morpheus.



Chapter Thirteen


I had no idea how long I had slept, only that it had been deep and
dreamless. I awoke now, remotely conscious of movement near me. The
curtains were drawn and the room was pitch black - I blinked my eyes trying
to make anything out.  More movement and I felt a weight on my lower chest;
I went to touch whatever was there but found that my arms were above my
head, attached to the bed head, my ankles similarly at the bottom. What
now? I wondered - surely I had 'suffered' enough for one day?

As my eyes adjusted to the dark and I just made out the outline of Mark who
was sitting astride me, his knees under my armpits, legs hugging my sides.

'Master, I....' Before I could finish he placed a finger against my lips
'shushing' me into silence.

'Every good Master should reward his slave when he has made him proud...'

He eased his butt down my body and stretched his body along mine, his groin
resting just above my cock; a cock that I now realised had been released
from the strangulating ring!

Mark brushed my forehead with his lips, before kissing me fully on the
mouth, gently at first, then more firmly; he ran his moist tongue across my
lips before darting it, snake-like into my mouth. I resisted responding,
remembering the earlier pain and fearing a trick but as his organ probed
deeper I threw caution to the wind and pushed my own tongue against his -
oh, the sweetness of it - we slashed and poked and cut like duelling
musketeers, my larger flesh invading his lair before his counter attacked,
rapier-like, fighting its way into mine.

I wanted to hug him, pulling him onto my body until we melded into one
being but my bonds prevented me. He unfastened his limpet-like lips from
mine and began kissing my face - rapid, staccato pecks - he kissed my neck,
put his tongue in my ears, licked down my throat and my sternum, took a
left turn until he reached my right nipple - now freed from the cruel clamp
along with the leather halter - engulfing it greedily.

I moaned as he teased the raw bud, pumping up my 'breast' with his hands to
allow him to push more of me into his mouth. By moving down his pelvis
mirrored mine, my naked cock rubbed along his own silk-encased stiffness
and I arched my back to increase the contact.

He repeated the treatment to my other nipple before kiss-licking his way
down to my belly button where he dallied awhile, teasing that sensitive
spot by swirling his tongue deep inside like a child trying to extract the
last drops of ice cream from a bowl.

Venturing further South, Mark travelled along the route previously forested
by a trail of my fair body hair until he reached the point just above my
straining prick. He sat up, sitting on my thighs and in one slow sexy
movement pulled his toga over his head.

As if by design, a pale shaft of moonlight crept through a gap in the
curtains bathing the boy's slim body in a silvery luminescence and his
tousled hair resembled spun white gold.

He slid down my legs, his shaft digging into my right shin as he went; over
my foot until my toes sat above the waistband of his silk panties. He began
to retrace his movements, my toes hooked under his panties and as he
climbed they slipped away from his hips and down his legs. His now naked
cock caressed its way back up my foot, shin and thigh until it rested
against a larger copy of itself; its owner got onto his knees once more and
grasped my smooth knob. He lifted it from my stomach and held in against
his own, encircling the pair with both hands and rhythmically wanking the
two together.

As the skin of our two cocks was moving as one I savoured the sensation of
dual hardness encased in velvet softness. I opened my eyes to look up at
Mark who had his closed and appeared to be in a kind of trance as he rocked
to and fro.

He maintained a slow pace; keeping me just below boiling point which was
just as well otherwise I would have blown my overdue load in an
instant. The excruciating pleasure was interrupted when he unclasped his
hands and turned round on top of me, then stretching out again so his head
was by my ankles.

Kissing and nuzzling his way up my quivering legs he reached my overfilled
balls and pulling my scrotum away from my thighs, he took the right one
into his mouth. Teeth gently scraped my skin as he rolled his tongue around
the fragile sphere. I gasped again with sheer joy as Mark moved to its
brother, tried to get both in his mouth - but failed - then licked along my
perineum, venturing to the edge of the volcanic crater that was my arse
hole before backtracking along the seam of my sac and onto the base of my
waiting cock.

Like all men, I guess, I love to have my cock sucked; but this was
something different - whether is was the smaller tongue, the fact that I
was tied up or that it was my first experience with a teen boy, I don't
know. But the sensation and pleasure was at least doubled.

His smooth chin rubbed along my hardness, followed by his tongue which now
flicked at my grateful head. It probed my piss slit as if trying to slither
into my urethra before retreating to allow his mouth to open wide and
englove my mushroom. His lips stretched as he bobbed his head to take
another couple of inches and he massaged the hot flesh with his busy
tongue.

His silky thighs were on my shoulders and his pretty butt a few inches from
my face - I could see his ball sac between his legs and I could feel his 4
or so inches of rock hard boyhood on my throat and collar bones. He made no
attempt to get me to return the favour however I desperately wanted to
share this moment and I strained my neck forward, trying to reach him. My
bonds impeded me and I only succeeded in touching his butt with my nose and
with a great effort I landed a couple of licks on one cheek, before falling
back.

Mark got the message and shuffled up until his dick was above my hungry
mouth and I sucked it in, greedily taking the full length at one go. I
heard a muffled squeal from below and Mark started to fuck my face, the
young shaft banging the back of my throat with metronomic timing. He forced
his head further down my older, fatter, longer version until I could feel
his nose contacting the skin so recently covered with pubic hair.

He stopped for a moment, to catch his breath perhaps, before sliding up and
down, faster and faster, faster and faster.

The orgasm originated in the core of my being, surged from the base of my
spine and hurtled up my engorged cock before exploding into the expectant
mouth - again and again I shot fusillades of hot cum as I jerked my hips in
response.

Mark's mouth remained firmly attached to my cock as he quickly approached
his own release - pummelling my tonsils as he made his third sacrifice to
Eros that day; I swallowed most of the boy-cum but retained some, savouring
the special flavour, swishing it round my mouth like a pretentious wine
expert.

As if reading my mind, Mark swivelled round and pushed his lips firmly
against mine - he opened his mouth as did I and remnants of my man juice
rushed in to join the boy variety, creating a heady cocktail which we
shared as our already exhausted tongues batted the billions of sperms back
and forth.

My dick which had only deflated slightly, perked up as Mark gyrated against
it as we kissed. He untangled our tongues and planted a final kiss on my
neck before sitting up, his hands on my pecs and his butt on my freshly
hardened cock.

It lay along the crack of his arse and Mark began to slide back and forth
as he massaged my nipples between thumb and forefinger. He raised his butt
and moved his right hand behind his back, grasping my cock, pulling it into
a perpendicular position.

The boy lowered himself slowly until his teen hole was lined up with my
shaft.

I was in Wonderland; could I really be about to fuck this gorgeous boy? The
boy who had dominated and abused me for most of the day was now preparing
to impale himself upon my engorged sword?

Yes! I felt the pressure as his hole resisted the invader. The anal cavern
that I had probed with my tongue some hours earlier had been pre-lubricated
by the ever meticulous Mark and my head penetrated his front line
defences. He stopped for a moment, I guess to gather himself, before
pushing down again, forcing another inch into himself.

He rocked slowly, causing my hyper sensitive cock to ease itself,
millimetre by millimetre, into the bowels of the golden-haired boy astride
me. He whimpered and in the half-light I saw tears, squeezed from his eyes,
like ice-drops in the moonbeam.

I wanted to hold him, hug him against me, kiss the tears from his cheeks
but my arms were still tied above my head and all I could do was hope that
he could see the love in my eyes. My cock had now disappeared completely
and Mark's balls rested on my pubic bone - his tool had returned to
little-boy size as his thoughts concentrated elsewhere and lay on his
scrotum.

A stillness pervaded the moment as he became used to the foreign flesh
inhabiting his being. Then, slowly at first, he began to fuck himself on my
pole - up until I almost left the hot moist sheath and down, his butt
cheeks slapping my thighs and up and down...his speed increased; I started
to thrust my pelvis up to meet him.

He gyrated frantically, the silhouette on the bedroom wall resembled a
young cowboy trying to tame a bucking stallion, and his cock grew to its
former size. He screamed, scaring me for a moment - yet more cum fountained
from the spout and splashed on my stomach and chest.

My own volcanic orgasm followed immediately as I shot a thunderous load
deep inside the boy. I also cried out, 'Oh my God, oh my God! Mark... oh
Mark... Mark.  I love you Mark... I love you!'

I don't know whether my words penetrated his befuddled brain but he eased
his butt up causing my depleted dick to vacate its glove. He turned
gingerly, stretching out to my ankles which he released from their bonds,
then spun again, sat on my chest and undid the knots holding my wrists.

He collapsed on top of me, his head resting on my chest and his lithe,
exhausted body a dead weight mirroring mine. Freed from my bonds I wrapped
my arms around the boy and held him tight. I kissed the top of his head,
holding my lips there for age. I could smell the essence of this child who
had so captivated me, both literally and metaphorically, and I breathed it
in, luxuriating in its narcotic effect.

As I fell into a deep sleep the last thing I was aware of was the twin
heartbeat in our conjoined breasts...



Chapter Fourteen



When I awoke I was on my side with my knees tucked up and Mark nestled
against me, his bum pressed against my groin and my arm draped around him.

On his bedside chest of drawers the red LED on his clock radio glowed;
8.09.

I carefully extricated myself and quietly slipped off the bed. I padded
downstairs to the kitchen and quickly cleaned round before making tea,
pouring orange juice and whipping up some scrambled eggs. Putting
everything on a tray, I carried the breakfast upstairs, laid it down on the
main bed before retrieving and donning my 'skirt'.

The boy stirred and rubbed his eyes, focusing on me as I intoned, 'Good
Morning Master - your breakfast Master.'

He sat up and I placed the tray on his lap. He looked at me rather
sheepishly, 'Thank you Pau... I mean slave.'

I smiled and bowed deeply, then watched as he attacked the meal with
gusto. As the final mouthful disappeared, a high pitched beep, beep, beep
broke the silence; the LED now showed 8.30. Mark reached over and shut off
the alarm.

He moved the tray, got off the bed and stood in front of me. 'Slave, you
are released from your bondage... you are free man!'

There was an awkward silence and then the boy's lips quivered, tears burst
from his eyes and he threw himself into my arms, hugging me tightly and
sobbing like a baby.  I held him to me while he let it all out, tears
streaming onto my chest and running down my body. I pulled his head away
and tilted it so that I could look into his eyes which searched mine
questionly.

I kissed the tears away and gently kissed his lips; 'Mark... if I can call
you that now, I feel really yuk - can I use your shower?

'Sure P..P..Paul.' He grinned, 'go for it.'

I unglued myself from the boy and headed for the bathroom. Stripping off my
meagre clothing I ran the shower and stepped in. The hot soothing water
cascaded over my body, removing the detritus that had accumulated over the
last 24 surreal hours. I stood facing the wall, with my eyes closed and
re-ran the tape in my head.

I must have been in there for over 10 minutes when I heard the cubicle door
open; I didn't move - a pair of shower gel filled hands began to massage my
shoulders and back, then they moved over my butt and down both of my
legs. I was happy to let Mark do his thing and I luxuriated in his touch.

As he came back up my legs, he stopped at my crack and spread my cheeks,
lathering my hole, pushing a finger just a little way in. Then I felt him
wrap his arms around me and start washing my chest and stomach, his own
body pushed hard up against mine.  He was stiff and his tireless cock
rubbed between my thighs, knocking against my sac which swung below my own
now hard dick.

He grasped it and started to wank me - I spread my legs which brought my
arse down to his level and reached behind me, guiding him towards the
target. He hesitated...  'Are you sure, Paul?' he asked. I pushed back at
him and needed no further encouragement, plunging into me and pumping his
rod wildly.

He took his hands from my cock and grabbed my hips. I began to jerk myself
off as his orgasm quickly approached. His pelvis slammed against me as he
donated another gift of boy juice to my welcoming rectum.

I sped up my action but Mark withdrew, spun me round and got to his
knees. He pulled my hand away and replaced it with his mouth; just in time
to receive the first of multiple jets of cum.

My knees buckled as he swallowed my seed and licked my cock head clean. I
put my hands under his arms and lifted him up, hugging him to me.

We cuddled silently until the water ran cold and we were forced to leave,
get dried and dressed. His parents would be home in half an hour he told
me.

I opened the front door before giving him one last lingering kiss, my
tongue pushing deep into his mouth.

As I left Mark called me back. 'By the way, Paul, while you were in the
shower I phoned the other guys... We've decided that yesterday was so much
fun, we're going to do it every week - we're going to take it in turns to
be the slave. We thought you might like to join us.

Oh, and Mario's up next Saturday...'

I think my Saturdays just got a whole lot more interesting!


The End....?