Date: Sat, 26 Jun 2004 12:25:33 -0400
From: Herb Cat <herb_cat@lycos.com>
Subject: Master Bottoms 2

Disclaimer: Do not continue reading if you are not 18 years old or you are
offended by portrayals of male to male sex or the laws in your state or
county forbid this type of material.

Copyright 2004 by the author. Do not reproduce or distribute this story
without the author's permission.

Names, characters, locations and incidents are fictional. Any resemblance
to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.

The Master Bottoms

--------- Day Two --------

In the morning, I was awakened by pans clattering in the kitchen. Only a
couple other slave tops were still in bed. I could see the others in the
bathroom, pissing and shitting and showering and grooming. There was no
privacy in my new accommodations but there was an air of real camaraderie
in the place. I walked down to the bathroom myself and joined those on the
toilets. While I shat, the other guys congratulated me on my performance
the night before. Even though they were slaves, even though their sexual
appetites were controlled by others, these tops respected each other. They
knew top talent when they saw it and they made sure to let the owner of
that talent know they appreciated it. I wiped my ass in full view of all
who cared to watch and joined those in the shower. Number 38, a Hispanic
lad with a humongous cock, handed me a bar of soap and then turned me
around and lathered my ass for me. Then he lathered my dick. Then he asked
me to do the same for him. I joked that I felt like giving him a bj, but he
said "Maybe later, Amigo." I realized we didn't have a lot of time. I
quickly brushed my teeth, slipped on my uniform and got to breakfast. Eggs,
any way you wanted, hash browns, toast, juice, hot coffee, and of course,
plenty of hot juicy sausage!

After breakfast, 35 gave us our morning chores. I was to vacuum the rooms
on the main floor. I felt a little silly at first playing maid in my little
leather outfit, but hell, I had a full belly, a warm house, and of course,
the knowledge that I was surrounded by more sweet ass than I had ever
known. My brother tops were busy dusting, straightening, cleaning up the
cum spots in the parlor. The main floor had to look immaculate before the
members came downstairs.

The members were not early risers. When a master bottom did awake, he'd
call down to the kitchen and in a few minutes, a slave top would pass me in
the hall carrying a breakfast tray up to one of the rooms. I had finished
vacuuming the parlor and the dining room and started on the president's
office. The hoover was running, so I wasn't aware that someone else had
entered the room until a hand reached around and fondled my balls. I
grinned to myself. For years as a top, I had no hesitation about copping a
feel in a gay bar or at a crowded party. My hand would often slip down some
pretty ass's pants and finger his crack. It was the natural thing to do,
and I never gave any thought to how the bottom might feel about it.
Sometimes it would lead to a fuck session, but usually it was just a quick
feel and I'd move on to someone else. Now here I was in an environment
where it was normal for the bottoms to handle the tops' assets. When the
hand grabbed my balls, I was startled, but it was oddly gratifying. It
stimulated my juices. I turned around to face my `attacker'.

It was Mr. Bennings. This was one of the few names I had learned in my few
hours as a slave. He was a handsome gentleman, in his early forties.  Short
well trimmed goatee. About 5'10". 180 pounds. He looked in great shape.
Probably worked out each day. He was wearing a white bathrobe and slippers.
Without releasing my scrotum, he motioned me to turn off the vacuum. "Good
morning, 37."

"Good morning, Mr. Bennings."

He smiled, seemingly pleased that I knew his name, but gently corrected me
any way. "You may call me `Sir,' 37."

"Yes, Sir. Good morning, Sir."

"Leave that vacuuming and come with me, 37."

I did as I was told. 35 was winding the clock in the hall and I knew
another slave would soon be assigned to take up the vacuuming. The tops
never question a direct order from a member.

Bennings grabbed my cock and led me outside. I was barefoot of course, and
my uniform didn't offer much protection from the cool morning breeze. But
then Bennings himself was in a bathrobe and didn't seem to mind the
temperature so I followed him across the gravel driveway toward the
pool. Bennings grabbed two lush towels from the poolhouse and threw one to
me. "I take a swim each morning, 37. I prefer to have some company, - you
know, a pool buddy, - so slip off your straps and jump in with me." With
that, he shuffled out of his slippers and dropped his robe on a chaise with
his towel. He was butt naked, with beautiful muscular calves and biceps,
and of course a great big muscular ass. I quickly pulled off my uniform and
together we jumped into the water. Thankfully, it was a heated pool, kept
at a perfect 75 degrees. I followed him as he started his laps. I had been
a wrestling jock in school, and considered myself an excellent swimmer, but
it was all I could do to keep up with this man. It was as if, without my
speedo, my big cock was slowing me down, like a keelboard. Bennings was a
real hunk, but he did not become a member because of any great penile
endowment.

After ten laps, he stopped at the shallow end and waited for me to catch
up. I stood beside him and caught my breath, but he wasn't even
panting. Fuck, he was one fit bottom. He turned and leaned over the side of
the pool, displaying his bootylicious ass. "You'd like to have this,
wouldn't you, 37?"

"Yes, Sir," I replied honestly.

"You're hoping that I will take your sorry cock and hide it inside my ass,
ain't that right, Boy?"

I couldn't believe it. This was exactly the way I was used to talk. I'd get
some piece of bottom scum behind a park tree and I'd begin teasing him with
my schlong. "You want this, don't you, asshole?" And I loved the way they
would beg for it. Now it was I doing the begging.

"Yes, Sir. Please, Sir. Accept my cock, Sir. Use it for your pleasure,
Sir."

Bennings grabbed my tool and squeezed it, the way I used to grab my
bottom's hole and finger it, preparing it for the penetration. He worked me
over and I was beginning to wonder if I'd lose my load before he got me
inside him. Suddenly he hopped out of the pool and told me to lay down on
the pool's edge. Like all the bottoms here, Bennings was an expert at
timing. At the abso-fuckin-lutely perfect moment, he sat on top of me,
pushed my cock up his chute and began humping me. He rode me until I was
ready to explode. Then he pulled off me and my juices came showering down
on my belly. He turned and added his own cum to the pool in my navel. His
dick, though average in size, held plentiful splooge. "Very nice, Boy." He
said, throwing me my towel.

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir." I repeated the line several times, like my
bottoms used to do. But I meant it each time. I was truly grateful to
Master Bottom Bennings.

He grabbed his own towel and dried his hairy legs and head, then turned so
I could watch him dry that amazing butt. "Tomorrow morning, 37."

"Yes, Sir." I answered, still on my back beside the pool. I would happily
be ready for morning laps every day. Bennings put his robe and slippers
back on and walked back to the house.

When I got back to the house myself, the main floor was complete. There
wasn't a single dust bunny or cum stain anywhere. Several of the members
were up, reading the paper in the parlor, or watching CNN in the den. These
were men who could afford membership in an exclusive country club. They
were men of power, of substance. They were men who expected to get whatever
they wanted. And they surrounded themselves with the tools to gratify their
wishes. That's where tops like me fit in.

I found that I had some free time now before lunch, so I hunted up 38, and
we got busy on the postponed bj while we had the chance. We laid sideways
on his cot, while other slave tops just walked around, played with
themselves, or showered off. There are never any private moments in the
dormitory. Like with 14, it was really satisfying to go 69 with a guy who's
as amply endowed as myself. After we both splooged, we took another shower
together. I had taken more showers in the last day than I had all week at
the hotel. It seemed that no sooner had I washed my dick off than it was
being pressed into service once again.

After lunch, 31 and I were assigned to make the members' beds. We stripped
each bed down, and then made it up again with fresh linens. 31 taught me
how to make hospital folds. When we finished each bed, he took a quarter
and bounced it off the tight linen. As we entered one room, 31 said to me,
"So how do you like Bennings?" It was obvious that he knew about the
poolside fuck. There are no secret trysts in this house.

"Man, he has one fuckable asshole! It seemed insatiable!"

"You're telling me. He had me going all night long!"

"You were his toy boy last night?"

"Yep, right here. This is his bed. Well, actually I started with Wilson,
but about 2AM, Wilson traded me to Bennings for number 8. They often trade
us off. But once I was here, Bennings wouldn't stop. Every twenty minutes
or so, he was ready for another fuck. I didn't get a wink of sleep."

"Yet he was still ready for more with me down by the pool."

"The man's like the bunny, he keeps going and going."

"You do look tired, 31."

"Yeah, I'll get a nap in before supper. Especially if we get the rest of
these beds made quick." I took his cue and hastened my pace.

"How long have you worked at the club, 31?"

"Just under two years. When 14 recruited me, I thought i'd stay a month or
two. I wasn't used to taking orders or living in a slave atmosphere. But I
soon discovered I loved it here. I think I was actually born to be a slave,
to serve. It's just this big cock of mine that misled me into thinking I
was a Master." 31 took out his penis to prove his point. Even limp, it hung
down at least six inches.

We finished up the last bedroom and 31 went off to his well deserved
siesta. I had no chores until supper time, so I laid down myself and jerked
off with a copy of Manshots.

But 14 suddenly threw my codpiece in my face. "Get dressed, 37,
Mr. Harrison is calling for you." Ahh, I thought, no rest for the weary.

Harrison was club president this year and so I went to his office. I stood
in front of his desk. He didn't offer me a seat. I wondered what I had done
wrong. I felt like I was in the principal's office again, caught for
fucking around when I was supposed to be studying. I waited while he
finished up some business papers.

Harrison was fairly tall, but looked extremely fit, athletic even. Long
brown hair carefully combed, the edges beginning to gray. Quite
distinguished actually.

Finally he said, "Hello, 37."

"Good afternoon, Sir."

"I've heard good things about you, 37." I detected a British accent.

"Thank you, Sir."

"I haven't fucked you myself yet, but all the members say you have an
impressive cock and you know how to use it."

"Thank you, Sir."

"You are a good looking young man. You keep yourself in shape and you
present yourself well."

"Thank you, Sir."

"And I've watched you around the house. You take orders very well. You work
efficiently, and without complaint."

"Thank you, Sir."

"So I have a special assignment for you."

Wow. I was curious. I had been singled out for something special.

"One of our members, Mr. Logan, arrives tomorrow. He doesn't get here too
often, as his business keeps him on the go, all over the world. But when
he's here, he expects to be properly treated."

"Yes, Sir."

"You will be assigned to escort him around for the next three days."

"Escort him, Sir?" I hadn't heard about escort duties here.

"Yes, you will not be spending much time at the house. Mr. Logan will be
attending many functions while he's here. Like I said, he is a busy man,
and you will be going with him. If you look good, he'll look good. And, 37,
you're going to look good, aren't you?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Tell 14 to fit you up for a tux. You're going to need a complete wardrobe
for the next three days."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Mr. Logan will send his car around to pick you up at noon tomorrow. Be
ready, 37."

"Yes, Sir."

"Oh, and by the way, what's your name, 37?"

"Excuse me, Sir?"

"Your name, damn it. What's your fucking name? When you're out at some
party, away from this house, Mr. Logan isn't going to be calling you 37,
Dickhead! What shall I tell him to call you?"

"Yes, Sir, Fred, Sir, Fred Jones." It felt so strange hearing my name out
loud. Since we arrived here, that identity had been buried. I was 37. Now
when Harrison asked my name, I had to actually think about it. However,
this was simply useful information for my dossier. Immediately I realized
nothing had changed.

"OK, 37, you are dismissed."

Harrison was all business. As I left his office, I resolved that one day
I'd get under his formal exterior and see what kind of ass he had. But for
now, I had other errands to attend to.

14 and 10 took me into a large walk in closet. 10 had me stand on a bench
while he took my measurements. They had me try on a few tuxes and found one
that fit perfectly. The trousers needed some adjustment. 10 was an expert
tailor. He explained that they'd be ready in the morning. 14 handed me
other clothes as well, casual outfits, suits, a speedo just in case. I had
to be prepared for any activity Logan decided on. He also gave me a two
suiter, to carry my tux.

That evening, 8 pulled me aside for a word. "You know, I escorted Logan
last time he was in town."

"No shit. What's he like?"

"He's a good guy. Very personable. He'll keep you going though. You're
going to meet a lot of his friends, and it's important to him that you make
a good impression. He wants you to sound intelligent, like you're not just
his boy for the night. Be courteous to everyone. And whenever possible,
compliment him. He likes that."

"Are you jealous that he didn't ask for you again?"

"Hell, no! You'll love the assignment, but don't get too attached. You're
part of his window dressing. It wouldn't look right for Logan to have the
same escort as last time. It'd be like some actress wearing the same gown
to the academy awards two years in a row.

[How does it happen that 37 attends an opera? And what does he do with the
chauffeur in the back seat of the limo? Find out in the next episode.]