Date: Mon, 24 Nov 2003 12:31:07 -0500
From: garth09@ibm.net (Garth Wells)
Subject: Hollywood Party (Hot Man For You To Use 8)

It was growing dark when the Lincoln pulled up in front of the colonial
styled mansion. Garth and Wolf got out of the car and led the half-naked
Mitch up the steps of the imposing front porch

The front door was opened by a large, burley man wearing a butler's black
trousers, white shirt, black tie and a striped gray vest. He reminded
Mitch of a better dressed version of Don Carlo's goons, right down to the
square head sitting on his broad shoulders. He didn't seem the least bit
surprised by the condition of the man standing between the two uniformed
guards.

"Come in, gentlemen. Master Johnson's party has already begun." The
butler said. He was clearly addressing only Garth and Wolf as
"gentleman", hardly even glancing at Mitch."

Mitch was "escorted" into the entrance hall. The black marble floor felt
cold under his bare feet. Paintings that looked original and expensive
covered the dark paneled walls. Closed double doors lined the hall and
must have lead to various public rooms Mitch thought. Sounds of music and
a large crowd of people came from the closed doors at the end of the long
hall. He was no longer protected by the club and his own room for the
night. He was actually a little frightened.

"You might want to get the 'boy' cleaned up before he begins entertaining
Mr. Johnson and his guests." Garth told the butler, looking a little
sheepish. "We took a little detour on the way here. The guy's balls are
still full of cream, so I didn't think Mr. Johnson would mind."

"Yes, I can tell by the spunk covered shorts and the way his sweaty body
stinks." The butler replied, in a gravelly voice. "You two owe me one,
big-time. I'll get him cleaned up, but he better be able shoot his wad at
least a dozen times tonight for the party guests and be fully re-charged
for another bout in the morning, or I'll have to reveal your
'indiscretion' to the Master Johnson. He doesn't like to be
disappointed!"

"No problem," Garth said, smiling again, "I've seen him in action. One
night he shot more than two dozen loads during a three hour session
before his big balls were drained dry." Of course Garth was exaggerating,
but it wasn't far from the truth.

The butler, his name turned out to be Max, reached past Mitch's hard,
throbbing cock sticking out of the waistband of his cutoffs and ripped
the rest of the fly's buttons open. He, none to gently, pulled the man's
heavy balls out and squeezed them, hard, causing more pre-cum to drip
from the swollen dick-head. Max nodded his approval to the guards. My
god, Mitch thought, they're treating me like some kind of stud horse. But
fuck, that's what I've become. His dick was still hard and he really
wanted to get off again - soon!

"Yeah, they seem real full but if the fucker fails to perform up to
Master Johnson's standards, he'll expect you two to take his place," Max
said to Garth and Wolf while he kept squeezing Mitch's testicles, "I'm
sure you remember the last time you had to sub for a stripper-slave. I'll
bet it took two weeks for your balls to recover from the abuse they
received." Garth and Wolf were looking a little nervous.

The butler released Mitch's balls and gave him a shove toward to a small
door to the left of the entrance. He told him open it and go inside. It
led to a small living room with nondescript furnishings like you would
find in a moderately priced hotel. There were no personal details except
for a pile of dog-eared muscle magazines on the coffee table. This was
Max's quarters.

A slap on Mitch's ass, hanging exposed from his torn cutoffs signaled him
to go through an open doorway into the bedroom. It was just as
nondescript -- a double bed made up with military precision and a TV and
VCR on a chest of drawers across from it. The cover of a videotape box on
top of the VCR pictured a naked muscle-boy porn star strung up on some
kind of wooden cross while a uniformed man was beating his erect cock
with a small whip. Well, at least I know what his beat-off fantasies are
Mitch thought. They weren't any different from the club's members. He had
certainly received that kind treatment from some of them.

"I'm the guy in the uniform, ass-hole. It's none of your business but the
boss produces porn flicks and I make a few extra bucks when I perform in
them." Max said, reading Mitch's mind. "Now, strip off your shorts and
take a shower. The bathroom's on your left."

Mitch bent down and pulled of his cutoffs, trying not to tear them
anymore. He also gave the guy a good view of his ass-hole. He handed the
grungy denim rag to Max, who had his hand out, and went into the bathroom
and turned on the shower. Max tossed the shorts on his bed and followed
Mitch into the bathroom.

"Leave the shower curtain open; I want to be sure you clean yourself real
good. Pay special attention to you cock and balls and douche yourself
too. The boss likes his boys real clean. I'm going to check you myself
when your done." Max said in a threatening voice.

Mitch did as he was told, as he learned to always do, including douching
himself with the penis shaped shower head on the flexible hose. He washed
himself the sexiest way he could -- actually posing for the butler. He
figured if he could win the guy over, things would go better for him
tonight. Max watched every move he made, but showed no emotion, not even
when Mitch flashed his old big stripper smile at the stoic man. For some
reason, Mitch felt he had to win this man over. He could, obviously,
never afford a club membership, but he did represent some kind of
protection in this new environment.

The butler held a big towel for Mitch and even dried him with it when he
got out of the shower. Then he made Mitch bend over and spread his legs
so he could inspect his ass-hole and grease it up with a long, thick
index finger.

"O.K., you can stand up. You're ready for 'presentation', but here are
the ground rules. You will begin by dancing for Mr. Johnson and his
guests in the most erotic way you know how. Obviously he's seen you
perform at the club or you wouldn't be here now. You will continue
dancing until he tells you to stop and then you will circulate and
'entertain' the guests individually or in groups.

You will perform whatever kinky 'sex-act' they demand, no matter how
demeaning, humiliating or repugnant you think it is. And you will look
like you're enjoying it. Mr. Johnson has a dozen of his 'stars',
including the one on the videotape cover, entertaining at the party too.
He may want you to perform with them. Garth, Wolf and I will be around to
be sure you don't try to back out of anything.

Considering what you're costing Mr. Johnson for the weekend, you
shouldn't need us to remind you to behave properly. You'll find your
'costume' on the bed, put it on and let's go 'dancer'!"

Mitch returned to the bedroom, followed by the butler. Laying on the bed,
were four leather cuffs, a three-inch wide leather collar with metal
studs and four rings attached, and a three-inch wide ball stretcher. Oh
fuck, he thought, this will be a rough night. That thought was enough to
make his hard cock begin to drip pre-cum again.

The hulking butler helped Mitch put on his "costume". He fastened the
wrist-cuffs with small padlocks and had Mitch raise each leg, while he
attached the ankle cuffs. The studded leather collar forced Mitch to keep
his chin up high when the butler fastened it in place with another
padlock. He couldn't tilt his head down at all. Mitch reached for the
ball-stretcher, but the butler slapped his hand away. He told him he
would attach it to be sure it was tight enough, besides, Mitch couldn't
even tilt his head enough to see his balls. He ordered Mitch to stand a
parade rest and Mitch immediately assumed that position.

Max knelt on the floor in front of Mitch, disappearing from his view.

Mitch felt a large, firm hand grip his testicles, pulling them down deep
into his scrotum. He winced from the pain but maintained his position.
Then he could feel the wide leather tube wrapping around the stretched
skin, keeping his testicles far below the root of his dick. Another
strap, a slender one, was attached separating his two balls in their thin
scrotal bag.

Finishing his job as "dresser", Max stood up, towering over Mitch.

"You look real good, fucker. Your two goose egg sized balls look like
they're going to burst right out of their skin." He said, his face only
inches from Mitch's. "The boss is going to love your new look." The final
part of his "costume" was a padlock that fastened the D rings on his
wrists, holding them behind his back and a short chain that attached them
his collar, pulling them, painfully to the middle of his back.

"Mr. Johnston didn't ask for another addition to your 'costume' but I
think it would be appropriate." Max opened his top dresser drawer and
pulled out a long, thick butt-plug. Mitch was still in his parade rest
position when Max knelt down behind him and pushed the butt-plug up his
well greased ass-hole.

"Now you look like a proper slave!" He said coming around in front of
Mitch to inspect his work.

Fuck, Mitch thought, that word again, but he really did feel like some
kind of male slave.

The pressure on his balls hurt but made Mitch even hotter. And the
butt-plug kept rubbing on his prostrate. He thought he was going to blow
another wad right here in the butler's bed room, but then he felt a hard
slap on his swollen cock-head.

"That should cool you down. Save the man-juice for your paid audience."
The butler ordered. Mitch's piss-slit opened wide and a stream of sticky
pre-cum started to drip from it. Max stared at Mitch's oversized glans
for awhile, allowing a puddle of his pre-cum to form on the carpet

Mitch felt his balls being pulled out in front of his body. Max had
hooked a short leash to the stretcher and lead him out the door and back
into the entrance hall, where Garth and Wolf were waiting for them. Mitch
was walking with his legs still spread to accommodate the plug in his
ass.

Wolf and Garth let out loud whistles. "Fuck, dancer, now I see what you
were born to be," Garth said, grinning and staring at the bound Mitch. "A
slave!" Mitch tried to ignore them.

"How will I know which one is Mr..'er -- Master Johnson, Sir?" Mitch
asked the butler, as they marched toward the doors at the end of the hall
with his big dick waving in front of him.

"Don't worry, you'll know him." Max replied. Garth and Wolf opened the
doors and Max lead Mitch into the room by the ball leash.

The enormous rectangular room looked even bigger than it was, because the
walls and high ceiling were painted black. Large wood and iron
candelabras, ablaze with candles lined the walls. Two matching
chandeliers, with at least a hundred candles each, hung from chains in
the ceiling. The candles provided the only light in the room. Low, Roman
style black leather couches surround a half-a-dozen round stone
platforms, each eight-foot in diameter -- three on each side of the room.

Men, dressed in black leather motorcycle boots, jackets, pants and caps
were reclining on the couches watching naked men, "costumed" like Mitch,
writhing on the platforms to music more throbbing, driving and sexual
than any he had ever danced to before. Thin, muscular, hairless and
heavily tattooed young men, naked except for their metal collars and cock
rings, carried drink trays, and scurried around the room waiting on the
guests. As they bent down to serve the guests, Mitch could see the scars
on their backs and buttocks from many whippings. Their cocks were
unusually long and only tumescent until a guest would grasp one in his
hand and pull it, hard, into an erection.

The dancers, Mitch learned later, were imported for the party from
private male stripper clubs around the world -- affiliated with the club
where Mitch danced. The waiters, on the other hand, were "owned" by
Master Johnson - true male slaves.

The platforms and couches formed a wide corridor leading to a raised dais
at the end of the room. A large man in his sixties, also dressed in
pieces of black leather, slouched on a massive, carved wooden throne with
candelabras on both sides. His jacket had fallen open, revealing a
heavily muscled chest and belly, covered with black and gray hair. Except
for his jacket and boots he was naked from the waist down. Two naked
muscle-men knelt in front of him, bound just like Mitch including
butt-plugs, were taking turns licking his balls and sucking his cock
while he stroked their buttocks and backs with a long, thin buggy whip to
encourage them to perform their tasks well.

He looked up when Mitch and the guards entered the room and motioned Max,
his butler, to bring Mitch to him. Garth and Wolf stayed behind, lusting
after a dancer who had been ordered to place his hard dick in the
callused hand of a guest and masturbate himself in the tight hand until
he shot a load of sticky male-cream all over his own chest and belly. He
shot the painful wad out of his leather wrapped balls, moaning loudly,
just as Mitch and the butler passed him. Mitch didn't see it, but he knew
the dancer would be order to lick his own cum off the guest's hand.

As Mitch was led down the long aisle, the guests turned from the
entertainment in front of them and admired the new male-stripper. Each
thought about the sexual acts he would like to demand of the sexy new
addition tonight.

Max released the leash, and Mitch mounted the dais. A slap on his bare
ass cued him to start dancing for Master Johnson. Even without the use of
his arms, pinned behind him, he danced more erotically than he ever had
before, completely turned on by his bondage and surroundings.

At one point, he rubbed his hard dick over the whip-stripped backs and
buttocks of the two crouching, strippers who were servicing Master
Johnson, shooting a large, sticky load of his cum all over them. Master
Johnson seemed to like that.

A Night With Master Johnson

In fact, Master Johnson liked everything Mitch did with his undulating
body. He liked it when Mitch spread his legs as wide as he could, and
bent over to display his tight ass-hole to the client, Master Johnson
stung the tender puckered lips with a dozen light lashes of the tip of
the buggy whip. Mitch shot another load on the sixth painful stroke.

After forty-five minutes of continues dancing, Master Johnson realized
that Mitch was wearing out, and told him he could take a break.

"Leash the 'boy' and give him a guided tour of the festivities, Max." He
ordered. Max did,
and started the tour at the first stone platform. The dancer on the
platform, one of Master Johnson's porn stars, was dancing with his legs
spread by a thirty-inch long metal stretcher bar attached just above his
knees. His hands were cuffed to each side of a wide leather belt cinched
tightly around his waist making it even harder to maintain his balance as
he gyrated to the music. Mitch could see the evidence of an earlier heavy
whipping on the hunky man's back, buttocks and thighs. The dancer kept
smiling, lasciviously, as if he would welcome any torment the guests
would order. Mitch wondered how much of that was "acting" and how much
was real.

At the next platform, the dancer was "working" the floor between the
couches. He was also sporting a knee spreader and hands fastened to his
waist. He would stop at one couch, bending over to display his tender
ass-hole while a guest whipped it with a long, thin, steel rod. Then,
when the ass-hole whipping stopped he would move to the next couch where
his cock and balls were attacked by a guest with a small penis whip. When
he finished his circuit of torture by the twelve men who surrounded his
dance platform, he had to begin again. This time he knelt between the
couches and masturbated his painfully welted erection in the clenched
fist of one guest while the one behind him, roughly, finger-fucked his
well-marked ass-hole. He had shot six loads from his leather-stretched
balls, by the time he had completed his second set of rounds.

A dancer shared the third platform with a partner, another porn star
stripper. Both had their legs and arms stretch wide by three and a half
foot long spreader bars attached to their wrists and ankles. One was
hanging upside down from chains in the ceiling, while the other hung by
his wrists. They were hung in a perfect sixty-nine position and sucked
each others cocks enthusiastically, encouraged by the guests who
surrounded them, whipping their ass-cheeks with leather straps. Max told
Mitch the strapping would continue until each had shot three loads of
cum. At the last minute, before an orgasm, the man had to withdraw his
dick from the other's mouth and shoot his load over his partner's face.
If he didn't withdraw at just the right time his partner would be forced
to swallow his cum, and the orgasm wouldn't count.

In other circles of pain and sex, guests were hanging weights on their
dancer's ball stretchers. All of them attached tit clamps they could pull
and twist while they tortured the naked muscle-hunks hard cocks and
leather-stretched balls. Dancers were being fucked with hard rubber
dildos, until they shot their wads for the guests. Every time he came,
the dancer to force painful smile and say "Thank you Sir's!" in a loud
voice.

Mitch was led back to the dais by his balls and continued to entertain
Master Johnson who had decided to keep Mitch for his own use. Mitch had
to dance three more long sets for him, but he figured it was better than
being tossed to the crowd for their entertainment. It turned out to be
only marginally better.

To conclude the festivities, Master Johnson had Max attach a leather
tether to a ring at the bottom of Mitch's ball-stretcher and hand it to
him. He used it to guide the dancer, close enough to use his buggy whip
on the man's cock and balls. Mitch shot four loads that way. The shaft of
dick was covered with painful, tiny welts by the time Master Johnson lost
interest in that particular torture game. Mitch was being introduced to
the S&M world, big-time. Garth, standing at the back of the room, almost
felt sorry for him.

As the party drew to a close, the guests began to participate in a more
personal way, fucking the men's mouths and ass-holes with their own dicks
instead of dildos. This was saved until the end of the party, because
most of the middle-aged men couldn't manage more than one or two orgasms.

"Take the 'boy' to my bedroom and fasten a wide spreader to his ankles."
Mr. Johnson told Max. "And have Wolf and Garth join us."

Max led Mitch, by the leash on his balls, through the orgy of party
guests sexually torturing the male-strippers looking for the two guards.
Garth and Wolf had removed the belts from their uniform pants and opened
their flies to expose two very hard and very big cocks. They were moving
through the various groups of guests and bound, naked dancers, whipping a
stripper's ass here and there with their belts. Whenever they encountered
an empty "slave" mouth or ass-hole they filled it with their own cocks.
Max signaled them to follow him. The guards knew was coming next and
grinned as they joined Max and Mitch.

Mitch was thrown, face down, on the oversized, leather covered bed. The
two guards pulled his legs wide apart while Max fastened the spreader to
the man's ankle-cuffs. The short chains attaching his wrists to his
collar were removed and the cuffs were re-attached directly to a ring in
the back of the collar. The guards stood at the sides of the bed, while
Max pulled Mitch's dripping erection from under his belly, stretching it
painfully back, exposing it between his legs, letting the surface of the
bed keep it imprisoned there.

The door to the bedroom opened and Master Johnson walked in. He
immediately began shedding his leathers as he gazed at Mitch's naked
body, spread out like a human banquet, on his bed.

Mitch turned his head to watch the man undress. Master Johnson, was in
unbelievable condition for a man in his sixties. He had had gland
treatments in Switzerland and while his face showed his years, his body
didn't. He was at least six-feet tall and covered with muscles. His hard,
red cock, eight-inches long and a good four-inches thick, stood straight
out from the curly hairs that covered his abdomen and groin areas. He was
well primed from all the mouthing his cock had received from the various
dancers who had crouched before his wide spread legs during the party.
Now he was going to relieve himself using Mitch's hot mouth and ass.

He climbed up on his bed and sat down in front of Mitch, spreading his
legs around Mitch's body, his crotch against the top of Mitch's head. He
lifted the dancer's head and slide his crotch forward, forcing his thick
cock into Mitch's mouth and down his throat. Mitch gagged and choked on
thick dick but swallowed it as he had trained himself to do.

"Garth, Wolf -- put your belts to good use and give the bastard's ass a
good workout. I want you to encourage the cocksucker to give me the best
head I've ever had." Johnson ordered.

The guard took their positions on either side of the bed and began taking
turns slapping the dancer's ass-cheeks with their wide leather belts.

"The ass whipping will continue until you bring me off 'dancer' -- make
it real good or you won't be able to sit down for a month!" Master
Johnson told Mitch. He made the word "dancer" sound like it meant
male-whore.

Mitch did his best and even shot a load of his own cum on the bed covers
as he swallowed Master Johnson's thick cream. Johnson didn't even wait
for his dick to stop throbbing. He pulled it out of Mitch's mouth,
letting the final spurts cover the man's lips. Then he crawled around the
muscle-man's body, moving between his wide-spread legs and shoved his
still hard dripping dick between Mitch's welted ass-cheeks, and into the
tight asshole. He began humping his rent-boy in earnest.

"Max," he said in a throaty, excited voice, "fuck the bastard's throat
and make it hurt him like I'm hurting his hole."

Max climbed on the bed, opened pants and knelt in front of Mitch as his
boss hard-fucked the man. He didn't sit down on the bed, but instead,
pulled Mitch's head up by the hair and shoved the dancer's mouth over his
throbbing dick. Mitch, his upper body bent uncomfortably back, couldn't
use his hands, which were still attached to his collar, to support
himself. The whole weight of his stretched torso was supported by the
cock shoved down his throat.

"GARTH! You and Wolf use your belts on my ass -- I'll need a little extra
stimulation to cum again this soon." Johnson shouted at the guards as he
continued Mitch's "punishment" fuck.

Garth and Wolf had removed their shirts by now. They were hot and sweaty
from the physical work of whipping butt. Mitch was becoming delirious
from the double fucking he was receiving, its rhythm timed to the sound
of the leather belts slapping male flesh. He shot another load at the
same time Master Johnson filled his bowels with cum and the butler shot a
load down his throat.

Both, heavy breathing men, climbed off the bed, leaving Mitch laying
there, twitching and moaning. Mitch's ass was red and hot from the
belting he had received, and dick and balls still stung from the
buggy-whip marks. His throat and rectum had been fucked raw, but he was
still hot and panting with sexual excitement. He couldn't believe it, but
he wanted more. He wanted Garth and Wolf to fuck him too. Mitch shocked
himself with he heard his own voice cry out.

"Please, please sirs, FUCK me again -- oh please -- please sirs."

The four men stood around the bed, watching the hot stripper writhe and
moan, crying for more sexual abuse. Garth and Wolf had waited for this
day from the time he had arrived at the strip club. Master Johnson just
smiled to himself, ignoring Mitch's cries, and told Max to take the
dancer to his own quarters.

"If I keep him here, I won't get any sleep tonight. Fuck him if you like,
but don't let him cum again, and be sure he gets some rest. I want him
ready to entertain my guests at brunch tomorrow with those big
low-hangers of his full of male-juice."

Max removed the stretcher from Mitch's ankles, but not the cuffs nor
wrist and collar restraints. The big man lifted the sweat-soaked dancer
from the bed and carried him back to his small, Spartan apartment. By
now, the other male strippers had been distributed among the various
guest rooms for more sexual abuse and torture. The house was quiet,
except for an occasional loud scream of pain.

Max deposited Mitch on his back on the narrow bed in his quarters and
began undressing. He was a big and muscular at Mitch had thought. His
butler's uniform hadn't hidden anything except his lack of body-hair.
Even his pubs had been shaved, making his extremely thick but short
five-inch erect cock appear bigger. He looked like a professional
heavy-weight wrestler.

As the butler climbed on the bed, Mitch could see scars from a recent
heavy whipping. They covered every part of his body except his groin.
Shit, Mitch thought, this guy is Mr. Johnson's slave! It was a new
concept for him.

Max didn't fuck like a slave though. He pulled Mitch's sweat-covered,
muscular body against his with brutal strength. He attacked Mitch's
cum-filled ass-hole with his thick pole like a dog in heat -- rutting and
moaning until he spent himself. When Mitch started to quiver with the
beginnings of an orgasm, the butler/slave slapped and squeezed his dick,
hard, to force the cum back into his balls. Mitch yelled in pain but knew
the man was following his Master's orders.

The "Master" was in his freshly made bed, cuddling with one of the
slave-boy waiters. He was thinking about how this exotic, perhaps
depraved, life he was leading began.

Master Johnson's Story

After his wife died, Johnson had begun to live out the homosexual
fantasies he secretly had had all his life. He had always dominated other
men in the business world, now he could do it in his personal world too.
He had begun by joining Wade Jackson's private "male stripper" club,
hiring a dancer to entertain him, "privately" whenever the mood struck
him.

One night, after a rather drunken poker game, he told four close male
friends about his new "interests" and discovered that they had similar
tastes. One of them confessed he actually kept a couple of slave-boys, in
a condo for his sadistic pleasures. He introduced Johnson to S&M. He also
introduced Johnson to Max, an ex-cop who liked to be whipped and abused
by other men. The hulking, beefy Max became Johnson's live in slave and
butler, as happy controlling other slaves as was being beaten.

During other poker games and locker room discussions at an exclusive
athletic club, the group of new friends grew in size and even formed a
secret sex and torture organization they called the L.A. Hellfire Club.
Johnson's estate became the center of their clandestine activities.

The naked waiters, working the party were owned by various members and
were kept in an underground barracks at Johnson's estate. They were
brought out for parties like this one and for private sessions with their
owners.

But all the "club" members liked to play with fresh meat now and then, so
Johnson began arranging with Wade's club and its international affiliates
to supply dancers for his parties. He knew that all the dancers, like
Mitch, had signed long-term contracts and had been fed aphrodisiacs for
so long they had become the male equivalent of nymphomaniacs. They
believed that the money they earned by performing at private functions
was placed in their bank accounts, to be collected when their contracts
expired so they were expected to co-operate fully with their client's
desires and they did.

Mr. Johnson fell asleep with his dick up the slave-boy's ass and dreamed
about what was going to be expected of Mitch at the Sunday brunch.