Date: Sun, 2 Nov 2003 22:18:08 EST
From: SolCorazon@aol.com
Subject: Enslaving David Chapter 10

Disclaimer: If love and sex offend you, if you are under 18
and/or this is illegal in your area, don't read.

This story is copy written by me and may not be used without
my permission. All of the people in this story exist only in
my twisted dreams.

If you like this story let me know at SolCorazon (at) aol
(dot) com. I respond to all email and I freely confess to
being an email slut, so please write.

Guys and girls... thanks so much to those of you have taken
the time to write. Especially those of you who have shared
pieces of your hearts and souls. I treasure the gift of your
trust.

SPECIAL THANKS TO THE NIFTY ARCHIVIST WHO VERY KINDLY
CORRECTS AND CLEANS UP ALL MY FORMATTING ERRORS.
To JB. Your words move me. I love you.


                       Enslaving David

                        By SolCorazon


                         Chapter 10


Most of us have an invisible leash. It's the thing that
prevents us from kicking the little `ol lady who
accidentally steps on our foot, from reaching over the
counter at the store and helping ourselves to the money in
the cash register, from kneeing somebody in the nuts or cunt
when they do something to piss us off. For some, the weight
of that leash is so light, they don't even realize it's
there.

That leash is something I tug against every day of my life.
Maybe because I spent most of my early ears on the receiving
end of an expertly wielded extension cord. That was my job.
Whenever she could, my foster sister Karen talked us out of
the beatings, that was her job; whenever she couldn't, I
took them.

The first time I beat someone, I told myself that I was
doing it because I was curious. It was just something new
and different. It wasn't that I was getting off on it. There
was no way I could be like that.

When I was a little kid, I'd catch the mice and put them
outside before the traps could get them. I avoided stepping
on ants. I didn't squash spiders; I wrapped them up in a
paper towel and took them outside.

So, the first couple of times I wielded a flogger, I had all
kind of reasons as to why it was ok for me to be doing so.
Everything except that I wanted to. That I needed to. That
it felt good.

Kevin was so small. To beat someone who was so defenseless..
not gonna happen.

Then he asked me to.

We were in my apartment and he was exploring. He loved to
play with my things. He'd try on my clothes, even wear them
sometimes.

He'd pour through the one photo album I have over and over.
He'd read every book that I had on my shelves and then ask
me what I thought about them and why I had those books in
particular. He was still puzzling me out. For some reason,
he seemed to find me fascinating.

He'd found a couple of my floggers in the back of my closet.
Flushed and breathless, he'd brought them to me,
interrupting my preparation of our dinner. I tilted my head
and looked at him speculatively.

"You can't handle it," I said.

He bristled and said, "Yeah, I can."

There is something so sensuous about leather. The smell, the
texture. On my first trip to a dungeon, when I saw someone
flogged for the first time, I was electrified.

It was so erotic, so hot, and so primal. I was shifting in
my seat, rock hard, wondering how the people around me were
sitting so quietly. Wondering if they were as turned on as I
was.

I wanted to be up there. I wanted to have that slave
restrained and at my mercy. Striking him, watching him
writhe with each lash of the whip, hearing him beg for me to
hit him harder.

I left in the middle of the scene. I went home and paced the
floor, freaking out because I was so turned on. Eventually,
I ended up jerking off, hating myself, feeling guilty and
ashamed. I came explosively and copiously, harder than I had
ever cum in my life.

Kevin threaded the strands of the flogger through his
fingers. He rubbed them across his face, inhaling deeply. He
licked his lips and stared at me intently.

"Please."

Oh god.

He started taking his clothes off. It was seductive even
though he didn't mean it to be so. I knew it was because he
was caught up, just like me.

Sometimes, this thing arced between us. It was hunger, a
violent, raging hunger. We'd be doing something, anything:
talking, listening to music, driving to my apartment, then
we'd exchange a glance and it was like a switch was flicked
on, a trigger pulled. Heat would flash between us,
uncontrollable as wild fire. I watched, unblinking, as each
bare slice of skin was unveiled.

We were inside of this thing, this vortex of want and
desire. I took the flogger out of his hand and grabbed him
by the wrist. We walked into the bedroom in silence. I
braided manacles around his wrists, raised his arms above
his head, and tied the rope handcuffs to the hook I had
installed in the doorway.

I didn't warm him up.

My first stroke was vicious; sharp and crisp across the
tender surface of his back. His back curled towards the
ceiling, arching like a cat begging for another caress from
a stroking hand.

I delivered another stroke just as wicked as the first. His
entire body rippled in a smooth, undulating motion like
water pouring out of a glass. Damn.

I flogged him deliberately, with slow, cruel, even strokes.
Continuously. Repeatedly. I didn't even have to look or
touch to see if he was hard. I knew his signs by now. He was
dorphed to the max. I bet he didn't even know his own name.

I was almost there with him.

His back was crisscrossed with red stripes from top to
bottom. His knees sagged so that he was hanging by his
wrists. He was breathing harshly, quick, rapid gulps of air.
I could see goose bumps standing out against his skin.

I cut him down and lowered him onto the floor.

"Please," he begged, voice breaking. He arched his back and
spread his legs.
"David, David, please fuck me. I need you to fuck me."

I grabbed one of his legs in each hand for leverage and
thrust into him, balls deep in one forceful plunge. He
howled as though I had split him in two. I paused.

"Don't stop," he gasped.

"Uuuuuunnnngh," I groaned harshly, everything I was feeling
captured in the sound. God, he was blazing hot, so goddamn
tight, so slick and juicy and wet. Little by little, I
corkscrewed my dick into him, pushing into him, deeper and
deeper, trying to reach the innermost depths of his being.

I grasped his hands and entwined his fingers with mine.
Looking down into his eyes, I thought that maybe I could
find the answers to the deepest, most dark of mysteries
there. And then it didn't matter. Because we were in that
place again and because wherever we were, we were there
together.

I pulled back. I had to do it slowly, because the pleasure
of it almost immobilized me. The friction of his velvet
lined ass tugging against my cock as I backed up was
agonizing and delicious. I closed my eyes and held myself
still.

I blinked my eyes open, ignoring the rivulets of sweat
dripping down my face.  I pushed into him again. He
whimpered. His fingers tightened their grip against mine.

His teeth were embedded in his bottom lip. His eyes were
silver and glittering like star shine in a midnight sky.
When he lifted his ass I slid into him even deeper. He
wrapped his legs around my back and tightened his sphincter
muscles around my aching dick.

I could feel my eyes rolling to the back of my head and then
I was short circuiting in his arms, nerves sparking and
firing crazily, thrusting into him mindlessly, insane and
out of control. I collapsed onto him, seeking and finding
his mouth.

I devoured his mouth, sucking at his lips, his tongue,
twisting and turning my head, kissing him voraciously. The
grip he had on my fingers became impossibly tighter then
seconds later I could feel his cock pulsing between us and
the warm, viscous eruption of his semen as he came
explosively. He screamed into my mouth and that was all it
took for me to go down with him.

I froze for a few impossible seconds, every muscle
contracted and flooded with crazy pleasure. My muscles
tensed and released convulsively, matching the rhythm of my
cock's sizzling, violent ejaculation in Kevin's tight hole.

I collapsed on him, unable to move.

When I woke up, we were laying in my bed. One day, I'm gonna
figure out how he moves me around when I'm unconscious. My
head was on his chest and his fingers were threading through
my hair. If I was a cat, I would've been purring.

 "I love your hair," he whispered.

I twisted in his arms so that we were face to face.

"I love your big brown eyes," he said. "I love your skin.
It's so warm and soft. I love your nose. I love your lips. I
love you," he said softly, looking into my eyes and tracing
the curve of my lips with a fingertip.

Can love be bottled and poured onto someone? Can love be
soaked up and absorbed like a sponge sops up a spill? That's
what I felt like.

In all of my life, no one had ever told me they loved me. I
had no idea that those three words held such power.

I'm not good with words and there was a long silence that
must have been interminable to him.

"Don't trip," he said wryly, uttering a phrase that I use
way too often. "I had to tell you," he said softly. "No
pressure, ok?" he added.

I placed my hand on his cheek. He gently covered it with his
own and kissed the inside of my wrist.

I cleared my throat. "I really don't know what love is," I
said.

He nodded his head. His eyes held no surprise; I'd told him
more than I'd ever told anyone else about the way I'd grown
up. But I could tell that he was steeling himself for the
rest of what I had to say.

"But if love is.. liking and respecting someone, wanting to
be with them all of the time, and feeling like your
intestines are shredded when they aren't around, then I am
so in love with you, I'm crazy with it," I said.

For a moment, his skill with words seemed to desert him. He
just stared at me. Any other time, it might have been funny
because his mouth was moving but nothing was coming out.

His eyes closed and his body went limp.

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "David, God, I was
so scared," he said in a low voice I could barely hear.

"I just couldn't stop myself from telling you. I couldn't
keep it inside anymore."

His eyes opened and they were a brilliant, sparkling silver.
Shining stars, full of the most amazing joy. Because I love
him.

Damn. Unfuckinbelievable.

"You love me," he said. He opened his mouth again, and there
was a really, really mischievous look on his face. This must
be what he looked like at age six.

"Don't say it," I warned.

"You REALLY, REALLY love me." He started giggling at the
look of horror on my face. I couldn't resist him though and
I started laughing too. Yeah, we find the same dumb things
funny. It's that fucked up biorhythm thing in action again.

Oh well.

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

We were discreet. At least we thought we were. A couple of
weeks later, right after there was a massive power outage
that practically shut the entire east coast down, Kevin
moved in. We didn't tell anyone except his parents and my
foster sister Karen.

On the next slow day in the ER, one of the other nurses idly
wondered why they didn't just plug me and Kevin into the
grid. She thought that would have restored power
immediately. Everyone else in the vicinity thoughtfully
added their two cents and agreed with her.
Ha. Ha.

Yeah. Right.

Mmmm. Maybe that would've worked.

Seriously.


The End.


I hope you love my boys as much as I do. Peace and
Blessings.. Sol.