Date: Fri, 15 Oct 1999 10:45:05 EDT
From: LIRAVENSMC@aol.com
Subject: Delivering Andy Part 5

Disclaimer:  The following story is a work of fiction.  If you are
offended by descriptions of homosexual acts or man/man
relations or power and surrender scenes, please exit this page.  If you
are under age please exit this story now.

Delivering Andy

Copyright 1999 by M Conley.  All rights reserved.

CHAPTER 5...........
    It had taken my the better part of an hour to clean up the evidence of
mine and Paul's activities. Wiping up drying globs of spent jism that landed
on the floor, remnants of my hair that was epoxied to the floor in the dried
cum smears. The back of the chair where my aching cock drooled and painted. I
was both amazed and shocked as I relived the scene like a forensic detective
piecing the clues of a crime scene together. I was nervous but secretly
thrilled by what had happened. Maybe one of my workers would find some small
trace of my debauchery and read the guilt in my face, maybe ask to many
questions and find the truth. Then I though "who cares!" I'd just had a taste
of something that I know I'd wanted for so long but was afraid to try. I was
proud that Paul had taken me to task and that I was to be his. Yes, HIS. That
thought alone sent an electric thrill though me.

    Satisfied that I'd cleaned the office up so that there would be no traces
I finally was able to collect myself and head home. I was tired but
exhilarated, like after a good workout at the gym. I was pumped! The ride
home gave me time to feel all the aches that were starting to make themselves
know again as my endorphin high wore off. My ass was sore, inside and out.
Paul  had I'm sure given me some nasty welts with the metal ruler he had
spanked my with. And my asshole tingled with a slow burn from the fuck he
threw into it. That both made me wince and smile. It had been a while since I
had anything even close to what Paul put out. My knees hurt from kneeling so
long on the floor. Industrial carpet doesn't offer much by way of cushioning
the cement below. My one arm hung limp in my lap while the other clung to the
steering wheel in protest at having to still function after being restrained
for so long. My chest was warm from the slaps and itched like mad from all
the hair that was stuck to it. It reminded me of being ten again and at the
barber. some of the clipping always found their way down my shirt and would
drive me insane until I changed clothes. My nipples were even worse off than
my chest. Paul had twisted them more than anyone had ever attempted. Every
contact from my cotton shirt sent a shock through them. They would need time
to recover and I guessed a lot of aloe lotion. My jaw was sore from it
workout on Paul's cock. I've swung on bigger but Paul had made me work his
cock longer than them. he had definite control over himself and his toys. I
kept expecting him to pop his load of jism at any minute, yearned for it, but
he didn't let fly till he was ready to. I kept catching glimpses of the mess
my hair was in the rear view mirror. I knew it wasn't pretty and I would take
care of it soon enough. I was tired and just wanted to get into be and go
back to the dream that I'd just had with Paul.

******************

    I woke up stiff and achy. I knew it was no dream what had happened the
night before. I'd stripped and crashed into my bed when I had gotten home
last night and as I woke I saw the mess my clothes were that I'd throw in the
hamper carelessly. My shirt was stained and crumpled and I'm sure still held
all the wonderful scents of my lust and Paul's. I looked to see my chest
still had hairs clinging to it. I got up and b-lined for the bathroom to take
my morning piss. My cock was sore and sticking at full attention. I felt a
constriction and remembered that I still had the ball-stretcher cockring on.
I was surprised I'd been able to sleep with it on all night. At the moment it
was making taking this piss a difficult procedure. I fumbled with it to no
avail. I couldn't get it off. The snaps wouldn't release. This sent a bit of
a scare through me. The pressure was beginning to get painful and I started
to dance a bit trying to figure out what to do. My cock was getting harder as
I though about it. The pressure felt both good and bad. I was unexpectedly
exciting. I decide the best thing is to try and relax and let it go down a
bit to free up my piss tube. Not an easy task I assure you. I went to the old
standby which worked great in high school whenever Mr. Happy got excited when
I caught site of a nice guys cock in the lockerroom. I love her to death but
Grandma's image always put things back in place without fail. Still worked
to. My cock deflated a bit and I am able to, by leaning over the bowl against
the wall, start to trickle. The trickle slowly increases to a stream and soon
I am shaking off the last drops into the bowl which had become a mean off
yellow, almost amber color from all I'd deposited.

    I then turn and look in the mirror at someone I don't recognize. The
reflection I know is mine but I'm still not sure. I look and see the
hodge-podge tufts of irregularly cut hair that cover my scalp. I knew it
wasn't going to be pretty but this  I wasn't ready for. I almost cry at the
mess I see. I've always had a good head of thick dark hair and am secure in
the fact that I will never go bald, but I'm not prepared for this. I know
that it will all have to be cut down to nothing. I've never had a buzzcut and
don't know how it will look. I never thought about what I'd do if I lost my
hair, but here it is that I have courtesy of Paul. I'd always been amazed by
bald men, they seem to have scalps that were designed for it-surprisingly
smooth and some almost glossy. They were genetically prepared for the
exposure of their heads. How will mine look? Are there bumps or scars that I
have that have been forever covered by my mat of hair. I nervously run my
fingers through the remains like I'm reading a Braille roadmap. Can I do
this? This is a very cruel trick Paul has pulled on my. I have to be my own
scalper or go and try and explain that I had some tragic accident to my
hairstylist and see if he can do anything other than what I know will be the
inevitable solution. I take a set of deep calming breathes as I stare
intently at myself. I suck it up as I know I still have to go in to work
today. I open the sink cabinet and grab the beard trimmer and steel myself
for what I'm about to do. I know It's got to be done. The buzz cut through me
as I start it and set it to almost the lowest setting it had. As I drag it
past my ear and feel the hairs as they cascade down past my cheek, I imagine
all those who have gone before me in the military entering boot camp. Their
steely and determined faces as it's done with swift precision by the
unconcerned barbers. I do my best to replicate that image as I continue
sheering my head.

*****************

    The reaction to my new look varied between my employees. Some graciously
commented on it being a good look for me if radical while others tried hard
to stifle a chuckle at the shock of it. I had trimmed it to an even fuzz
which covered my head evenly. It felt velvety when I rubbed my had over it
and it didn't look all that bad, just different. I know that I'll need to see
my stylist to touch it up and actually give it some semblance of a "look".
I've seen people do just as dumb things to themselves, radical hair color
change, mohawks, striping ala Dennis Rodman, the whole gamut. I knew I'd get
use to it by the end of the day and that it would grow back eventually. The
morning proceeded as normal with the buzz of daily office noise lulling me
back to normal. The bell rings and in pops the morning Fed Ex deliveries, not
Paul I find to my disappointment, but that was the way it went. The secretary
sorts and routes the parcels to their intended departments. She finally
brings one small envelope to me. She comments that there is no sender return
address just "Personal Material" written in the info area. I just as confused
as she but take it and pull it open.

    Inside is a hand written note:
    "Pup,
        You will wait for me after work.
    M.P."

    That's all it said but it's effect on my was visible. I must have gone
flush as a wave of blood began coursing through me. My pulse quicken and my
breathing got shallow. A thousand thoughts flew through my head as to what
Paul could have in mind. My dick twitched for an instant at what my mind
answered with.

    The rest of the day was a daze for me. I couldn't focus on business and
it became apparent to my staff something was on my mind and they did their
best not to bother me unless necessary. I work in my office alone going
through all the possibilities that might present themselves swinging back and
forth between thrill and fear. I'd gotten a taste of what he was capable of
the previous night and wondered how much more he and I were capable of.
Several times my hand found its way to my crotch and worked my stiffening
cock through my slacks. I run my hand several times through the velvety
stubble that had been my hair which only gets me harder. I can feel the ball
stretcher tighten as I fight the urge to take my cock out under the desk and
relieve it of it's need to spew my seed.  I weaken and reach in the fly and
fondle my shaft and run my hand over my taught ballsack. The leather strap
send electric thrills as my flesh strains against it. I get nervous that
anyone could bust in and catch me in this charged moment, but I continue to
work it and spread the oozing pre-cum over the sensitive head. What I find is
that the awkwardness and risk of the situation only adds to my excitement.
Like a shot, I can feel my balls tighten for the final time and the charge of
cum speeding down my shaft. I pinch the tip of my spasming cock and  hold
back the tide which is almost painful. I get my free hand in position to
catch my spunk and slowly empty it into my palm. I milk out every drop I can
stifling my moans. I beg to myself that no one should come in now. I bring my
filled palm into view and salivate at the gift it holds. Pearlescent and
silvery and cooling in my palm, my jism beacons me. I quickly scootch down
and lap up the thick fluid, swirling it around my mouth, savoring the taste,
fresh and manly. I wish that it were Paul's cum that I slowly swallow and
revel in. I continue to clean every dram I can off my hand with my tongue
enjoying the scent on my hand. When I think I've gotten it all I slump back
in my highback leather chair and breathe deep. I then wipe my wet hand over
my head massaging it into my scalp, satisfied. I know that the few hours that
remain until m rendezvous will pass like the night before Christmas for a
eight-year-old who can't wait to see what Santa has left.

***************

    I sit nervously in the outer office waiting for Paul to arrive. We closed
up for the day at least an hour ago and I let my secretary know that I may
not be in till late if at all tomorrow. I caveat it with an instruction to
check if I don't show by Friday giving her the impression that it might be an
illness setting in. I again go through the joys and disappointments of every
passing car. The little voice inside keeps playing the pessimist since Paul
hadn't been in for the last pick-up.  Maybe it was another test and he was
watching to see if I leave. Or maybe he was jerking me around laughing at how
strung out he'd gotten me already. My frustration mounted but I would give
Paul the benefit of my doubts.

    Finally I hear a vehicle pull up and see the lights come to the door
outside. It's not the motorcycle he had last night and I find myself a bit
disappointed but ecstatic that he's here. I get up and my mouth is dry and
hands clammy.  The door opens and there he is in all his masculine glory.
This time he's clad in worn, once black but now dirty gray denim jeans, a not
so tight red t-shirt, and black shoes polished I imagine to marine envy. He's
got a gymbag with him which hangs empty at his side. I immediately drop to my
knees as he approaches. I stay focused on his shoes as the get closer. He
stops before me and a heavy pause  fills the room. I eagerly await his
commands.

    "Good puppy, Master like to see a well behaved pup," Paul says and drops
the gymbag before me. He cups my jaw and turns my head up at gaze at his
face. He has a slight smile on his face, an amused look which makes my knees
weak. "Now Strip!" he commands.

    I spring up to my feet and quickly begin to shuck my clothes. I drop them
loosely around me in my haste. Paul snatches hold of my right nipple and
gives it a hard squeeze. The shock and pain are multiplied by the fact they
haven't recovered from last nights session. I involuntarily shrink back but
he keeps a firm grip on it.

    "What are you doing?" Paul barks at me. "Who taught you to throw your
clothes around like some spoiled child?" He emphasizes each question with a
twist on my nipple.

    "S-s-sorry Sir," I whimper in response.

    Paul snaps back, "Pick them up, fold them and put them in the bag." He
releases my tit and give me a small push back. I quickly scramble to comply
with his order. I fold my clothes on the floor while on my knees. I quickly
have them stowed in the bag and am presenting it to Paul. He takes it,
quickly checks the contents and then curtly zips the bag closed. I stay there
kneeling before him exposed. I feel the slight chill that the door is letting
in and the goose bumps it is slowly raising on my skin.

    Paul saunters around me inspecting his property. On e one pass he brings
his shoe to my balls and jostles them seeing that the ball stretcher is still
in place. The next pass he runs his hand over my chest and back lightly
slapping the surface. His touch is getting me hard and my cock begins to
bloat. Another pass and he's rubbing my head.

    "Not bad for a dumb-pup. You healed up pretty well and had the balls to
clean up the mess I left of your hair. Still needs to be finished though."
Paul says. I'm shocked that he's going to remove even more of my hair. I
suppress the urge to say something in protest.

    He continues his circling and stops behind me. I feel his hand on my ass,
kneading the cheeks and tracing up the crack. He probes my hole tenderly
which causes me to draw a small sharp breath. He removes his hand and leaves
me there. I hear a jingling from behind me and think its a keychain or some
sort of metal trinket. Suddenly before my eyes is  lowered a dog's choker
collar. Shiny steel and heavy linked. He dangles it there for a moment before
speaking.

    "When I put this on you, you are mine body and soul." he grumbles as he
drags it across my shoulders and around my neck. "You will never take it off
or speak of it to anyone. It will hang low enough so you can cover it with
your shirt. When you've earned the right, you will receive your name and tag.
In my presence or the presence of your betters of the pack, this is the only
other thing you should have on besides your cockring. Understood?!" he
presses.

    "Yes Sir!" I snap back quickly.

    "This is you last chance to back out. Once this is locked around your
neck, you'll be nothing more than a pup and I and your new pack will make all
your decisions for you. You will not question me or them. They know the rules
and will teach you them. Break any and you will be punished. Understood?"
Paul finishes.

    I pause and quickly weigh what he has related. This is what I want, have
always wanted, isn't it? The chain continues to drag across my shoulders. It
feels heavy, more for what it signifies than for its true mass. I look down
and see that my cock has made the decision for me already.

    "Yes Sir. Please be my Master. I need to be your pup and be trained,
Sir." I confidently answer. The chain is withdrawn out of view and I hear
Paul taking it up. It comes back down before my face suspended from both ends
by Paul's steady hands. He brings it under my jaw and draws it back against
my neck. I feel it make contact as it closes around neck. I swallow hard and
my Adam's apple dances around it. I here a click from behind me and know that
the lock has been placed.  Paul pulls the now completed loop around and rests
the lock on my chest. He pats the lock and withdraws his hands letting me
take in the totality of the moment. The weight of the chain is now part of me
and the links slowly draw warmth from their contact with my skin.

    Paul walks around to face me and lifts my head to look into his face. I'm
surprised that I have tears on my face. He wipes them away gentle then pulls
me close to him. He gentle strokes my head and pats me, reassuring me. I want
to stay like this forever. I know that now. This is where I truly belong. His.

    Paul breaks the moment when he releases me and snaps "Stand up!" I jump
to my feet a bit unsteadily. I stand face to face with him. He has only about
an inch on me but he towers over me. He pulls out of his back pocket a strap
of some kind and begins to put it over my head. It's a muzzle with a large
patch of leather he fits over my nose and around my mouth and chin. He
roughly secures it tightly. There's a dime sized hole in the mouthpiece.

    "You are to say nothing from this point on when you're wearing that. You
will either nod your head `yes' or shake it `no,'" Paul instructs and grips
the muzzle and demonstrates how the signals should go. "Understood?" he
presses. I signal my understanding as instructed.

    "Good boy, puppy learns fast. Keep it that way." he encourages.

    Then he reaches behind himself again and produces a leash of black
leather. It uncoils like a snake and he grabs the clip end. He snaps it
closed on the lock around my neck. He jerks it hard downward forcing me to my
knees again. He comes close to me again and again pats me on the head. He
instructs `Grab the bag. Where out of here." I grab hold of the bag
containing my clothes and pull it to me.

    "Come." he barks as he heads fort the door. "Lock the door as we leave
and shut off the lights."

    I do both as we pass the door. Thankfully it's dark enough that no one
should see us, especially me as we exit. In front of the door is a big F-150
pick up truck with a cap. he leads me around to the back and opens it up.
Inside is a metal dog kennel with a blanket on its floor.  It's just big
enough for me.

    "HUP! Get in boy!" Paul yells. I carefully maneuver myself into it and am
soon scrunch down on my hands knees watching him close the kennel door on me
and then the tailgate and cap. The leash is hung on a hook on the cap but
still attached to the collar on my neck. I feel the truck shift as Paul gets
in the cab and closes the door.  He starts the engine and soon we are driving
off away from my office. The kennel turns out is bolted to the bed of the
truck so it doesn't shift as he drives. The blanket is musty but provides me
enough cushion for the bumps of the trip. I have no idea of where he going as
I cant see out the tinted glass of the cap. It's dark and the chill starts to
become evident as the ride goes on.

    After what seems a half hour, we make one final turn and Paul stops the
truck. The engine cuts and I hope we have arrived at our destination as it is
getting cold in the cap now. I have the blanket hung around me for some
measure of warmth. As I hear Paul get out of the  cab, I replace the blanket
under me and await his opening of the tailgate. I'm kept waiting for a few
more minutes and finally Paul begins to open the back.

    "There now, that wasn't to bad was it puppy?" he coos as he opens the
kennel door and takes up the leash. He pats me on the head as I nod my
approval. Paul give the lead a tug and says, "Okay, come on out. Let's go see
your new pen."

    I grab the gymbag and carefully get out of the truck and follow Paul
through the cold damp grass. It's dark and I can only see the form of the
building we are walking around the side of. I can see it's a modest sized
home with brick face There are tall hedges that line the property and
preserve our privacy as he walks me. He leads me next to a tall thick tree
and stops.

    "Okay pup, piss before we go inside." Paul instructs. I'm shivering
slightly and really have to concentrate on getting my bladder to work in such
an awkward setting. I reach down to grab hold of my limp and shrunken penis
to get it started. Paul immediately smack my hand away hard. "Did I tell you
to touch that? Bad Puppy!" he yells at me and then gives my ass a whip with
the other end of the leash. I know it wasn't a hard lashing but with my ass
cold and goose-fleshed, It stings more. I dance a little from the sting and
concentrate on getting my plumbing to flow. I finally trigger the flow and
soon am pissing on the tree and ground before me. The stream of piss smokes a
bit in cool air and splatters on me as it bounces off the tree. The little
bit that does get on my legs and feet cools quickly adding to the bumps on
me. Just as I finish and jump a bit to shake myself off, Paul tug on the
leash and begins walking me around the back of the house.

    As we make the turn, we come on to the patio. My dilated eyes  can see a
big treed backyard and a swimming pool. I'm suddenly aware of a dim red glow
coming from the open cellar storm doors. Paul leads me toward them and starts
descending into the basement. I cautiously follow making sure of each step.
As I clear the entry, I can see only a small part of the room we are in.
There is a bright red lamp in the center of the room with a shade that only
illuminates the very center of the room. Directly below the lamp is a small
platform with a strange metal object that almost looks like a sculpture. The
shiny metal tubes of the object reflect the red light, contrasting it sharply
against the black Formica platform. It looks like a cross between a gym
machine, gynecologist exam chair and massage table. I can recognize parts for
what they are, headrest, seat, stirrups and restraints. Leather belts with
steel fasteners, one on each stirrup, on large one on the seat, one by the
headrest and a looping set under the padded seatback. I can imagine many
positions that a person could be arrange in when placed in that contrivance.
My master leads me around it letting me see it from every angle. I see that
the main support is a piston which comes out of the platform. As we pass I
see a foot pump level, like a motorcycle's kick-start bar.  I see that the
leg stirrups, which look like oversized handlebars, can be rotated. The
entire frame can also tilt back and forth, raising or lowering the
appropriate area. In all, a functional and menacing machine.

    Paul grabs the gymbag from me and tosses it aside carefully into the dark
recesses of the basement. I don't hear it hit the floor, just stop somewhere
in the space above it. Silently, he pulls me up onto the platform and begins
to direct me into the position he desires. He sits me with my back resting
against the padded rest and my ass on the seat. The seat has a cut-away
half-circle which leaves my asshole exposed and floating. He gently pushes my
head back into the headrest and loosely fastens the neck restraint around
which still allows me to breath easily but restrict my head movement. Next he
takes each of my arms in turn and restrains them behind me under the
chairback. I couldn't get up if I needed to now. He then moves down to my
legs and positions them in the stirrups and closes the belts around my
ankles. I'm amazed by my passivity at being completely immobilized and
totally exposed. Paul begins tracing up and down my body with his hands
feeling and gripping as he goes, inspecting the merchandise as it were. He
comes up between my spread-eagled legs and starts lightly smacking me in
unison. It's almost sensual in the way he's doing it. Smacking an area in
increasingly harder secession then gripping and massaging them. I begin to
get dizzy in the attention I've been waiting for. He works his way from my
calves, to my thighs, up my chest which he seems to linger on checking the
pinch of my spread and "tsk"-ing softly, over my shoulders and down my upper
arms, then back to my face. I am warm and completely content from his
ministrations. My rod is half hard and flopping back and forth as his leg
grinds into it. Paul turns his attention to my cock and ass now. He grips it
at the shaft making it swell then smacks it a few time which makes it fill
even faster. He waves it around, letting it smack my abdomen and legs until
it is rock hard and painfully bloated. He then starts playing with my ass
hole and crack, making it quiver and spasm. He gets it to open a bit and then
starts to flick his finger onto the rosebud, the same way he did the previous
evening. The sensation is electric and send shock dancing through my body
which has me groaning and squirming in the seat.

    Paul steps back and asks, "Am I your Master, pup?"

    I explicitly nod my yes while screaming it in my head.

    "Does puppy trust his Master?"

    Again I nod my affirmation.

    "Good pup. You know your Master would never do anything bad that you
didn't deserve." As Paul continued he start opening his pants and drawing out
his cock. "But you need to know I am your Master. Your collar is a physical
symbol you will carry with you that you are owned by me and are part of a new
family, but you now will receive a ceremonial one." He backs up a bit and I
sense what he is about to do.  "I mark you now with my scent."

    As soon as he announced it he let loose with a torrent of piss from his
flaccid hose. The stream arched high and glistened in the red light. I
observe, as if outside my body, as it comes splashing down on my chest. It is
hot and seems to scald my skin. He continues his fierce liquid assault and
begins directing it around my body, up over my chest, directly on the lock
and chain, across my shoulders, over my face. He aims the stream directly at
the hole in the muzzle splashing it over my lips and into my nose. I splutter
a bit then I close my eyes and hold my breath as he continues to baptize my
head and face with his fluid gift. He then drops his aim to my genitals,
drenching them with his urine. The sensation of his spray as it splashes over
my turgid cock and balls is indescribable, the closes thing to an orgasm one
can have without having one. The fluid drains down the crack of my ass and
over my heated asshole cooling it while stroking the fire inside of me. He
continues, concentrating the last of his aromatic piss over my blood red
organ and taut balls. Moans escape me as I am overwhelmed by this moment. I
never knew it could feel like that, never would have dreamed it. My breath is
heavy as Paul shakes the last of his piss over me. He steps back surveying
his handiwork.

    "You are now marked by me as my property, a member of my pack." Paul
announces loudly. Suddenly there is a roar that fills the room and shocks me.
A chorus of howls, barks ands baying  coming from around the room. There are
others sequestered in the dark out of sight who have witnessed all that has
transpired so far. "Now the rest of your pack shall also cover you with their
scents as well to mark you as theirs as well. You will get to know them all
and there position in the pack." Paul says while glaring at me directly.

    Paul steps away into the darkness that the red light keeps me from
peering into. Slowly forms of bodies begin to appear and come into the red
glow. They slowly begin to circle around me examining and sizing me up. The
circle grows ever closer and I can see more of these men of Paul's pack. All
are naked except for an identical chain and lock around their necks. Unlike
mine, theirs have an additional tag which glints and reflects the light. They
are all different sizes and builds but all in shape. Two have on harnesses of
thick leather and steely buckles. I notice that some have piercings-nipples,
ears, PA's-or tattoos. Most are crew cut and smooth. In all, there are 7 men
revolving about me. I feel like the nights dinner to this hungry pack. There
is an almost inaudible growl coming from them. Finally one of them leaves the
circle and takes his place where Paul had christened me. He was one of the
two with a harness. He has a thick mustache which canopies over his mouth.
He's a bruiser of man. Build and solid. Bulkier than Paul and more heavier
muscled. Both his nipples are pierced with thick rings and he has tats on his
chest and arms.

    Looking down scowling, this mammoth man says, "I am Topper. I am first of
the pack, answering only to our Master. If Master is not around, I am in
charge and you will follow my instructions as you would his. I will be the
only other to administer discipline other than our master. I mark you now as
a member of my pack and accept you as the runt of the litter."

    "I look directly at him and nod my head to accept his dominance of me.

    Topper lets loose another torrent of piss, again covering my body with it
but curiously stays away from my face. Again he finishes by concentrating on
my cock and balls which are straining and continue to send tremors through me
as each drop strikes.

    He finishes, rubs his hand over me, mixing his urine with Paul's and
withdraws and returns to the circle which has continue its course around me.
I will soon meet every other member of my pack and receive their scents
before the night is through. The thought pushes me to the point of cumming
but I know it would be wrong to do so until all took their turn.

To Be Continued. Any questions or comments E-Mail LIRAVENSMC@AOL.COM.