Date: Fri, 5 Sep 2003 13:51:27 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Harbour Master, Part 15

HARBOUR MASTER, Part 15

By Pete Brown     petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

Read all of Pete's stories at
groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories


Matt was still going on at Bill when we got back to
the house, saying that he'd never seen such a
disgraceful performance.  Bill seemed to lose it then.


"You're  fucking hypocrite, dad!  You're always
telling me that although you're a top, there's
absolutely nothing wrong with being a bottom... You
say you respect them, they're just as good as tops,
just different.... Well, I think I'm a bottom.  When
Steve fucked me at lunch time..."

"What did you say?"

"I said that when Steve fucked me at lunchtime, it was
the best..."

Matt's fury seemed to blaze.  He rounded on me  "Did
you fuck Bill today?"

"Yes.  We..."

I never got the chance to finish the sentence, as Matt
garbed Bill and was shaking him like a terrier shakes
a rat.  "You've let Steve fuck you.... Did he force
himself on you...."

"No, dad.  It was all fair..."

"Fair?  What's 'fair'?"

"We had a bet.  I lost.  And a man always pays his
debts."

"You were gambling, too?"

"No, dad, just racing.  We raced across the harbour,
and the winner got to fuck the loser to make it more
exciting.  And I lost.  But I didn't mind, I liked
it...."

"You sill young cunt!  Look, of course it's OK to be a
bottom.  But it's absolutely not OK to bet with
slaves, then to let them fuck you because they 'won'.
A real master would have bet with the slave, then, if
he lost, would have taken the reward anyway to remind
the slave of the proper relationship between them!
Anyway, don't ever let it happen again.  And don't
ever let a slave 'use' you as a fucking stick like
Steve did earlier.  You're a master, you're in
charge."

"But I think I'm a bottom - I liked being fucked...."

"You can be a bottom and still be in control!  Order
the slave to fuck you, don't lie there and let it
happen.  And if you want to have your dick sat on as
Steve did earlier, you lie down, then you command him
to squat on you.  Understood?"

"Yes, dad.  But it wasn't Steve's fault..."

"I'm not sure about that!  He should have known
better.  Anyway, it confirms what I've been thinking -
Steve needs to be reminded that he is a slave.  I
think I've been too lenient far too long, and I've
treated him too much like a man, rather than a slave.
Tomorrow morning will fix that."

"Now", he went on, "Let's get to bed - as you're
determined to bottom, you'll enjoy your old dad
fucking you again, won't you?  Or shall I watch whilst
Steve ploughs your ass... Would you like that - having
me watch whilst you're being fucked by a slave?"

Bill was blushing red all over now.  "No, dad... I
want your dick, of course...."

 I had to jerk myself off again so that Matt could
lube Bill's hole and his own dick, then kneel and
watch as the two men made love again.  Matt was kind
of ignoring me totally, and after they'd finished, I
didn't know whether to get into bed or not.  It was
Bill who fixed it - I'm sure it was to please Matt
that he adopted a very curt tone when he almost
snapped at me "Get your ass in here, slave.  I want to
sleep with my dick somewhere warm and cosy tonight!"

We therefore slept spooned up usual, and all seemed to
be normal as we bathed.  But over breakfast Matt
didn't give me any food.  Finally, as they were
finishing, I politely asked for at least a can of
slave chow, but Matt just snapped "No. There's
something going on today, and I don't want you spewing
your breakfast all over the place."

He told Billy to look after the boats alone, as he'd
only be an hour or so, then commanded me to follow
him.  We went past our usual spot, along to the boat
building works at the far end.  Some of Matt's boats
were in there, being renovated, and one was almost
finished - I could see it's shiny varnished hull with
the "MJM"  (for Matt James Marine) log on it.

Matt shook hands with the yard owner, then spoke to
him and I couldn't hear what they were saying.  Matt
turned back to me:  "Right, Slave, lie over the hull
of that boat there - spread yourself out, face down."

I did as he told me, and lay there, wondering what on
earth was going to happen.  The yard owner came back
with ropes, and he and Matt quickly lashed my ankles
and wrists to various mooring points and holders on
the boat's hull.

"Right, slave, do you see any differences between that
boat you're lying on and you?"

"Well, boss, I'm  a slave, and I'm worth a lot
more..."

"Quit the wise cracks.  Let me tell you the
difference:  you're both my property, but one has my
logo on it, and you only carry my advertisement.  It's
time I re-emphasised to you that you're my property,
so I've brought you down here to mark you further .
And do you know why I'm doing it here, rather than at
the tattoo parlour?"

"No, boss."

"It's because on my boats I have the logo burned in,
so that thieves can't scratch it off, or paint over
it.  There's a neat little electric tool - a branding
iron I guess they call it - that burns the MJM logo
into the wood.  Sears the wood, chars it, burrows deep
into it with the burned area.  And that's what's going
to happen to your ass - I'm going to put my logo on
you now, and you'll be reminded for ever that you're
my property.  You'll remember that Bill is my son, and
that a master's property respects him, and his son.
You'll remember because every time you touch your ass
you'll feel the logo burned deep into your flesh.  And
you'll remember because that process is painful - no,
agonising.  You're going to remember how you screamed
until your throat was raw as I pushed the branding
iron onto your flesh, then held it there as it seared
and charred you, then pushed it further in to really
make sure of a completely indelible mark."

"There are no namby-pambies from the ASPCS around.
Just you, the slave, me, the master, and the branding
iron.  The only thing we have in common is pain - the
ability to experience it, and the ability to cause
it."

I tried to move.  Even though I knew what the penalty
for escape was, it had to be worth risking. But the
ropes held me.

"Struggle all you like.  You can't get away - guys
like us who work around boats all our lives know a
thing or two about knots.  But now...."

Bill got up and once agian he was straddling me, and
sitting on my muscular back.  He didn't take his jeans
off, though - a group of workers had gathered around,
and perhaps he was embarrassed.

"Can you move, Steve?  I don't want that ass of your
moving as the iron is held against you - I want a nice
clean brand, with sharp edges, not something all
blurred as you moved around under the heat!"  He'd
said this in such a way that he was taunting me,
trying to make me feel worse.

"Fuck you, Matt!"

I screamed and tried to buck away - Matt had taken a
wire rust-removing brush from one of the workers and
brought it down hard on my right ass cheek.  It stung
lie hell as the hundreds of sharp wires punctured my
skin, and the sheer unexpectedness of it had made me
cry out.

"Good.. A bit of practice for the voice!  And you
can't move, can you?  Your master's body is crushing
you, holding you down immobile and waiting, waiting
for him to mark you as his property...."

The boat yard owner came up, and he was holding what
was clearly the branding iron - it trailed a long
flex, and the business end - the circle containing the
letters - was not just glowing red, but almost white
hot.

"Here you are, Matt... Shall we find the slave
something to bite down on, to stop him screaming... It
might help him..."

"No!  I want to hear him scream.  I want him to
acknowledge that I have the power to hurt him so much
that he loses all control in front of this audience of
men.  Now...."

It was worse than anything I could have ever imagined.
 And it wasn't just an agonising pain like that you
get when you slam a finger in a car door, or when you
burn yourself on a hot dish in the oven...  No, those
are over relatively quickly as you snatch your finger
or hand or what ever way.  The pain lingers,  but the
cause of it is removed almost immediately.  But Matt
held the white hot brand against me for ever - well,
not literally, or course, I don't suppose it was for
more than ten seconds.  But that's an eternity when
your entire body is telling you to pull away, to get
away from the source of the agony - and you can't.  I
could smell my flesh, my body, charring and burning,
as if I was at a hog roast or something, as the steam
and smoke from the iron wafted back towards my nose on
the breeze.  I screamed, of course, a long, howling,
animal yowl that emptied my lungs and was so powerful
that my throat hurt afterwards.  And then I sobbed -
big, racking sobs, as I lay there, shattered.

The yard workers were all looking at me, and I could
tell they were appalled at what Matt had done to me -
or, rather, at the way in which he'd done it.  I could
see now why he hadn't fed me, as I would have thrown
it up.  I was glad that I'd had a massive crap that
morning as there was no way that I could have
controlled my bowels, either - and, indeed, I'd "let
go" and a stream of piss was falling to the floor,
running off the boat, where I hadn't been able to
control my bladder.

Matt got off me, and came to my head.  Tears were
still coursing down my cheeks, and a big drool of snot
as pouring out of my nose.  "There, Steve.  All done.
Now you're really marked as my property, for life.
They can laser out tattoos, but there's no way that
big, deep scar is ever going to be removed.  Whenever
a man runs his hand over your left ass cheek - and
there'll be a lot of those, as I do intend to go along
with the doctor's suggestion and hire you out as a
fuck boy for weekenders- he'll know you belong to me.
And you'll know that he knows that, however good you
are in bed, you're just a piece of property that he's
hired from me."

"Untie him now", he snapped at some of the workers,
and four of them came up and undid the ropes.  "But be
careful - the disgusting animal has pissed
everywhere", he added.

The pain was still so sharp that I couldn't speak,
couldn't even think about speaking.  I wanted to call
him all the worse names I could think of.  I wanted to
go and hit him.  But I couldn't - I could hardly
stand, the pain was so intense, and in particular my
left leg could hardly support my weight as the muscles
in my ass spasmd, trying to get some relief.

I knew what they say about burns - you should always
make them as cold as possible.  Mom used to run a
burned finger under the cold tap until you couldn't
stand it any longer, I remember.

In agony, I left the men standing there as I turned as
best I could and hobbled out of the yard and across
the quay, and threw myself into the water.  The shock
of the cold water on my sweat soaked frame was
terrible, and a new wave of pain from my brand flooded
through me.  It was high tide, and the water was deep,
and at first I couldn't swim and sank like a stone
towards the bottom.  I honestly thought about trying
to end it all - just opening my mouth down there and
letting the water in - it had to be better than this
life, had to be better than this pain, this  way of
being treated, this life as a slave that Matt could
treat just as if I was an animal.

But life is life, isn't it, however bad it is?  I kind
of scrabbled with my hands and my head broke the
surface.  I grabbed hold of a mooring ring, and just
clung to it, most of my body in the cold sea.  I don't
know hoe long I was  there - certainly long enough so
that I was completely chilled and my teeth were
chartering and the bits of my body out of the water
were shivering.  Slowly and painfully I hauled myself
out, and stood there in the sunshine trying to get
warm - but as the warmth returned feeling to me, so
did the pain come back - and I had to throw myself
into the water again. - although there did seem to be
some life in my left leg now.

After I'd repeated this for some time, Matt came to
the edge of the water and looked down at me as I clung
to the mooring ring.  If I'd not really known the
meaning of the word "agony" before, I did now, as that
was what I was experiencing.  It must have shown on my
face, but Matt simply ignored it and snapped  "Get
back to fucking work, slave!  Do you think I'm going
to feed you tonight if you don't do a day's work for
me?  Now - swim around to our pitch, and relieve Bill
- the lad's probably had to swim out to get boats
several times, and that's slave's work, in my book!"

The absolute bastard!  He knew what he'd done.  He
must know how much I was hurting.  And now he was
threatening me with not being fed - he never really
fed me enough, anyway, considering the hard physical
labour I did, as he sometimes told me that he
deliberately kept me slightly short of food so that
I'd get he "lean and mean" look, and would anyway be
grateful or a few drops of cum to supplement my diet.
So without any food for a whole day, I'd be in
desperate straights.

I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing
that he'd hurt me terribly, so, slowly and painfully,
I swum around to the quay where Bill was standing.

"Hey, Steve!   How's it going?  There was something
interesting earlier on - terrible commotion over at
the end of the quay:  any idea what happened?"

He saw something was wrong as I reached up and slowly
hauled myself out of the water - I'm so fit that I've
perfected a little trick that amuses Bill - and the
customers- where I just have one hand on the quayside
and kind of "spring" out - a big kick of the legs,
some leverage in the arm, it doesn't take much,
really.  But there was no way I could do that now, and
I almost crawled over the edge of the quay, and lay
there gasping.

"Oh fuck, Steve... What's happened to your ass... Oh
Christ, no.... That's our logo, isn't it?

"Yes.  Your dad's branded it into me, just like the
boats are branded.  And that's what all  the
commotion, as you call it, was:  it was me, screaming
and screaming, in the hope it would stop."

Bill was crouching by me now, his hand on my shoulder,
in a gesture of support.  "Steve.. .what can I do..."

"Get up, boy!  Leave that worthless piece of shit
alone, Bill!  I though we'd agreed that you were
supposed to treat a slave like a slave, order it
around, tell it what to do... A free man doesn't ask a
slave what he can do for it...  Now, get the fuck away
from that Slave, else I'll tan your ass right here and
now -  I said last night that you're not too old to be
spanked, and if you don't do as I say, you'll learn
that a father still has some rights."

"But dad, Steve's hurt..."

'Sure he is.  You'd expect him to be hurt, when he's
had a white-hot piece of metal held against him.  But
it's not permanent.  He'll recover, except that his
hide will now always bear our company logo.  Every
time he looks at his ass, or runs his hand down his
ass cheek, he'll remember that we own him. And he'll
think back to today and remember what it feels like to
have his master really hurt him.  Now, as I said,
leave him alone.  I want to work him for he rest of
the day - it will take his mind off the agony, and,
anyway, if he doesn't move that leg a lot, it might
seize up."

Matt let me to work the hire boats all by myself for
the rest of the day - Bill had disappeared, and Matt
was busy with his special errands for the boat owners.
  As usual, some of the customers didn't seem to like
dealing with a naked slave, but I think I attracted at
least as much business as went away - some people,
walking along the quay with no intention of hiring a
boat would deliberately come over and do so once they
realised it was an opportunity to gawk at my
magnificent body.  I didn't buy what the doctor said
about the ladies being frightened or embarrassed by my
dick, either - if anything, the were the worst at
looking at it.

When Matt  finally collected me and took me back to
the house the sun had sunk behind the hills and I was
quite cold.  The volume of business falls off very
rapidly once the sun sinks, and I think Matt only kept
me out there so long that day just to punish me a bit
more - but in fact the additional time in the sea was
continuing to do my brand good and the biting,
stinging, all-consuming pain had now sunk to a dull,
angry low throbbing - provided I was active at
something else, I could even manage to shut it out for
brief periods.

"It's just you and me again, Steve", Matt announced.
"Bill's gone back on the bus to the city, to see his
mother."   Bastard - now that Bill wasn't here, did he
think everything was going back to being "buddies",
after what he'd done to me?  But he did seem to be
trying to return to normal - far from not feeding me,
he gave me the scraps off his plate to clean up after
I'd finished a big can of slave chow.

"I thought he was here for the whole vacation period."

"He was supposed to be.  He normally always stays the
entire Summer.  But after our little argument earlier,
he seemed very upset, and he's fled back to mommy.
Still, if he's going to be a snivelling wimp perhaps
I'm better off without him.  No one wants a son that
can't bear losing an argument with his dad!"

Well, I didn't think that it was all about losing an
argument - I thought there were fundamental
differences between them in the way they treated other
people!

"Still, that just leaves you and me.  And now you've
lost your cherry, I don't have to save you for Bill.
My dick's been itching to get up your ass, and it's
taken a lot of strong character not to have given in
and just taken you before.  But now the way is open,
so to speak....  Get up the stairs, and get into bed:
you're going to see how a real top can take you now."

It was a bit of a cool night and I got under the
covers, and Matt leapt in and joined me.  As we felt
the warmth of our bodies pressing close, it was just
as it had been - or, rather, it was for Matt.  The
pain in my ass didn't let me forget what he'd done to
me.  We kissed, fondled, sucked nipples, then,
pressing his face close to mine, Matt said in that low
voice that somehow everyone seems to use in the
bedroom  "I'm going to jerk you off now, Steve, as I
need the cum to lube my dick - it's ass time for you,
boy!"

He went at it with vigour, at the same time using his
mouth to alternately deep kiss me and torture my
nipples.  In spite of everything, I still found him
unbelievably sexy, and loved the feel of his body
against mine, and the way his hands played my dick as
if it was a rare musical instrument that had to be
teased to give it s best.

I| shot loads, in spite of everything, and Matt
reached between my legs and made a pretence at
massaging some into my hole.

"How does that feel, Steve?  Do you like your master's
finger probing your hole?"

"Matt, it's great... More, please.  I like it, I
really do - carry on finger fucking me, and use more
fingers to really stretch me... I love the sensation,
and it will make it easier for your dick..."

At once, Matt changed.  He went from seductive, sexy
lover to angry owner.

"How do you know about stretching?  Bill didn't teach
you as his dick was barely in there for a minute.  The
doctor certainly didn't - he's a cruel bastard, who
likes to see slaves suffer in spite of his membership
of the ASPCS.  Sam fucked your throat.... So where did
you learn about multiple fingers up your hole?"

Oh shit!  If I told him about Grant and the wonderful
lover he was, I'd be sunk.  Matt would work back to
the days he'd loaned me to Grant's boat, and know that
his "present" to Bill of a virgin slave was in fact
somewhat devalued.  "Well... Well... ", I stammered,
"I guess I read about it before I was enslaved..."

"Now you're fucking lying to me, to add to all your
other misdemeanours in the recent past!  You didn't
learn, when I branded you, did you?  You didn't learn
that I own you, and that therefore you owe me total
truth and obedience at all times.  Well, we'll let it
pass for now... After next weekend, and your date with
the doctor's little machine, I think we'll have you
properly tamed!"

"Matt, please... For God's sake.... No.... Not that."

"Shut the fuck up, Steve!  My mind's made up.  I was
going to try to argue with the doctor, try to keep
your dick on you, but I'm beginning to see that he's
right - treat a slave with respect, treat him as if
he's almost human, and what do you get:  a slave who
tries to assert his power, a slave who lies to his
master, a slave who sticks his dick up his master's
son, a slave who must have been having sex without his
master's permission....   Well, I'm done with it!  One
thing you won't be doing after the weekend is having
sex with your dick!  I quite like the idea, now I
think about it, of going for the really minimal look
the doctor talked about with the little nub that's
left hidden in your pubic hair - when you piss, you'll
have to dry your hair afterwards."

"Please, Matt..."

"You call your master by his familiar name one more
time, and I'll drive you to the city now..."

"Please, boss, please!  Anything but that... I'd
rather lose one of my balls than have my dick sliced
off... Please... I used to be a man, just like you,
then I was enslaved and you took away my freedom...
But taking away my dick... Please, boss, it's not
human..."

"Quit whining, fuck boy, and get on your knees.  My
dick's tired of waiting for that ass of yours... Do
it.... NOW!"

Even though Matt had said he was going to have me
sliced, and there seemed no hope, what else could I
do?  There was no running away, and my only chance was
to obey meekly, in the hope that by the weekend he
might change his mind.  If I angered him any more, all
my hope would be gone.

Wearily, I raised myself on to my knees and pressed my
shoulders down into the bed.

"I think you'd be a top if I let you".  Matt had a
taunting tone in his voice.  "You fucked Bill, you
hated it when the doctor fucked you, and you tried to
take over the other session with Bill, run it your
way.  Well, there'll be none of that tonight - I'm the
one in charge here, and my dick's going up your ass.
If you were tough and strong - and free - like me,
you'd never have to take a man up your ass.  But as a
slave...."

As he'd been speaking Matt's dick had been rubbing up
and down my ass crack, and I'd been quite excited at
the feel of it as it moved between my cheeks, then
stopped and nosed at my hole, then moved on.  I think
if he'd just started to fuck me then, in spite of
everything, things might have gone very differently:
I'd have taken it, and worked on him during the week,
and I might or might not have been sliced.

But Matt was in a "power" mood, and went on "You're
mine, slave, mine to do with as I want.  I'm going to
fuck your ass so hard you'll scream, not so much as
this morning, perhaps, but you'll still make a lot of
noise as I'm going to plough you just as we are, and
your cum is already drying on my dick so there won't
be much lube.  At the weekend I'm going to have you
sliced, and I will!  You've seen how much power I have
over your body - you know that I won't hesitate.  A
man who can hold a white hot branding iron into a
slave's ass won't stop at a little thing like slicing
his dick off - in fact, I think I'll ask the doctor if
I can press the button myself!"

I think I could have borne this, too, but at that
moment Matt slapped my ass, hard - very hard - with
all the power that a big, strong man like him can
exert.  As his hand made contact with my scar that was
already so painful, I completely lost it.

To his astonishment, I turned of him - I got up off my
knees and turned to face him as he knelt there, and
attacked him.  Even though I was weakened by the pain,
I had the advantage of surprise over him, and we were
soon wrestling together, clawing at each other and
trying to land punches where they would really hurt.
I'm not a fighter, and neither was Matt, but we were
both fit and extremely strong, and we both now locked
into some of primeval battle - who was the alpha male?

We were grunting and swearing at each other, and it
soon became hard to wrestle as our bodies were so
coated with sweat that it was almost impossible to get
a grip on each other.  But, just as in my race with
Bill, my younger body started to win out and I could
feel Matt gradually weakening as the huge exertion we
were both making continued.  Finally I had him flat on
his belly, with me kneeling in the small of  his back
to hold him there, and with one arm locked around his
neck:  he knew that one move from me and his neck
would snap as I'd wrenched his head to one side.

"Now, Matt, who's in charge, who's in control?"

"I am, slave!  Just because you've got me like this
doesn't mean you've won.  If you kill me, they'll
trace you and kill you.  So sooner or later you've got
to let me go - and then I'll call the police, and
you'll be carted off to be sold..."

"In that case, I may as well really demonstrate that
I'm bigger, stronger and better than you - one last
fling, shall we say.  You wanted a virgin ass for
Bill, and you were proud that he was going to take my
cherry.  Well, you keep bragging about how you've
never taken it up the ass, so what's sauce for the
goose is sauce for the gander... You know, Matt, since
I've been enslaved I've been made to do a lot of
things I never thought I'd ever have to do - go naked,
suck dick, be a walking advert, even have my body
mutilated to suit you when you had me tattooed and
circumcised.  But I found I like some of it - and I
never could have imagined that, not even in my wildest
dreams.  I never thought I'd like to suck dick, or to
kiss another guy, or just to enjoy his body as we lay
close together.  And I certainly never thought I'd
enjoy fucking ass - I was straight, until you won me,
the father of kids!   But I do enjoy it - not just the
sensation, which is a thousand times better than
fucking cunt, as you know, too, unless that wife of
yours got some big stud slave to do what you
didn't...."

Matt struggled underneath me, so I knew I'd hit a
nerve.  "But then, Bill does look a lot like you.  But
he likes being fucked, too, doesn't he - that doesn't
seem to have been inherited from his dad... Are you
sure you ever got your dick up your wife, or was it
just a marriage of convenience so you could play with
the lads...?"

He managed to struggle enough so that he could get out
"Fuck you, Steve.  No, I'm a man, just like you.  Bill
is my son.  But I soon found out what you now know -
sex with men is better..."

"I was going on to say, Matt, before you
interrupted..."  I gave his neck another wrench, and
his body jerked with pain.  "I was going to say that
not only does it feel better physically, but fucking a
man gives you something else - power over him,
domination, control... When your ass is spiked on my
dick, as it's going to be in a moment, we'll both know
who's the real man here, who's really boss in spite of
the arbitrary labels the world places on us - master
and slave.  You know, I guess that's why so many gay
men fuck guys who are totally different - lawyers and
labourers, businessmen and construction workers,
accountants and security guards... Each of them is
working out what really makes the man, not who's
earning the most, or who sits behind a big desk..."

Well, that was enough of that.  I had a bit of a
problem, but with my arm locked around Matt's throat I
managed to drag him over to the side of the room where
he'd discarded his jeans before coming to fuck me - as
he thought - and pulled the black leather belt out
from the loops. I threw him down on the floor, then
hurled myself on top of him, knocking the breath out
of him, and as he was recovering I used his relative
helplessness to bind his arms together in the middle
of his back.

Hauling him back on to the bed, I could now press his
shoulders down without resistance, and then, as they,
say, I fucked him!

It was magic.  His hole was tight and unyielding, but
my dick was harder than it had ever been before.  Matt
kept up a constant barrage of expletives, curses, and
threats, that didn't diminish when, using the trick
I'd learned to my cost at the doctors, I beat his ass
with one of his sneakers to "tenderise him".  In the
end, I stuffed his socks into his mouth to stop the
noise, then pushed hard - harder than I've ever had to
since - to pop my dick through into him.

I didn't spare him at all.  There was no pretence at
starting slowly and gently and working up to my climax
- I was in control, and I wanted to teach the bastard
several lessons.  So I brutally fucked at him, driving
home every time into his tenderised rump with all the
force I could manage.  Sweat was flying off me, and I
was expecting to cum every moment - but I didn't:  I
was so wrapped up with the power I was exerting,  so
revelling in having this man completely subservient to
me, that something in my brain told my balls that they
had to hold out.

Of course I did shoot eventually - but it was the
longest and hardest fuck I've ever had.  Matt was only
groaning feebly through his gag by the end, and as I
let his body  collapse flat onto the bed so that I
could enjoy lying on him and having him totally under
me, I pulled the socks out.

"At least you'll stop bragging that you never take it
up the ass", I whispered to him, my breath panting as
I tried to recover.  "Even if you never have another
dick up there, you'll remember today when a real man
topped you, in every sense of the word.  Come on,
admit it - I'm a real master, aren't I?"

Amazingly, given the difficult position he was in, as
he knew I could easily resort to choking him and even
snapping his neck, Matt hissed "No, slave.  I'm in
charge.  I own you.  I own you totally.  And once
you've been sliced, I'm going to have you castrated.
And then I'm going to rent you out to all comers -
even as little as a dollar a fuck, if that's all
they'll pay.  You're not going to be a master, or in
control, or a top.  You'll be a dick-less eunuch, who
takes endless dick up his ass every day.  You won't be
able to top anyone: no balls to make cum, and no dick
to inject it with."

"Now", he went on, "Untie me.  Don't make things worse
for yourself."

Jesus Christ, I thought.  Make things worse?  How
could things get worse?

End Of Part 15