Date: Sat, 26 Jun 2004 12:25:33 -0400
From: Herb Cat <herb_cat@lycos.com>
Subject: Master Bottoms 7

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 Seven -------------------

Dear Mom,

I'm sorry I haven't written in over a week, but I've been real busy. That
was certainly true, I hadn't been worked so hard in my whole life. You'll
be glad to hear, I got a job - finally. I'm working for an exclusive
country club. The pay is great. Not true. I get great meals. Very true. I
have my own room. Half true. And there are lots of fringe benefits. Very,
very true.

I'd love to show you the place, but unfortunately the club is for men
only. They're privately funded, so they get away with it somehow. However,
other than that the club is not restricted. They have members, both black
and white. She'd be glad to hear that. She's a typical white liberal,
always yelling about racial equality. Even a couple Asian members. Rich
importers. And I've even noticed that gays are fully welcomed and accepted
into membership. One of the main qualifications for membership here is
financial. These guys are rich and important. I expect to make a lot of
contacts here that will stand me in good down the road. I didn't feel I had
to tell her the other requirement for membership, the physical one.

I know I've been presenting myself well, just the way you raised me,
Mom. One member was so impressed with me he took me to the opera, the
museum and to a ball game. I've been learning about photography, haute
cuisine, and hydraulics. Yeah, I know, it's a stretch to call my fountain
making skills that. And I've become a really great swimmer. This is going
to be a good experience for me.

I'm doing so well, that in another week, they say I'll get a promotion. I
still wasn't sure what the end of probation actually meant. I figured I
would find out that night when 26 finished his.

Give my love to Sis.

Your loving son, Fred. I actually wrote 37 here, damn it. But with all the
experience I had in school changing grades on my papers, and forging tardy
notes, it was easy to change the 37 to Fred.

I dropped my letter in the outgoing mail bin. It felt good to tell my
mother good news at long last.

My seventh day at the Club was spent in the usual routines. Vacuuming rooms
and making beds, fucking big beautiful asses, serving meals, fucking more
big beautiful asses, caddying, fucking other big beautiful asses, raking
leaves, and, did I already mention fucking big beautiful asses.

At supper, I served a member who had just arrived that day. He spoke with a
French accent and being European, was able to eat without changing his fork
from one hand to the other. This left his other hand relatively free, and
through dinner, it was inside my codpiece. I was more or less
trapped. Since I couldn't step away from him, 37 would have to hand me each
new course to pass on to Monsieur, and when I took away the old course, I
passed it to 37. All part of the job.

At least I wasn't the centerpiece. Tonight it was the blond, Number 4. My
performance the previous night had set a new standard, and now all the tops
knew they had to work to match it, or top it. 4 faced the challenge with
grit and spunk. Yeah, lots of spunk. But he managed to hold the spunk until
the members retired to the parlor.

After dinner, all the tops, even Number 4, were summoned to the parlor. We
were to witness the ceremony marking the end of Number 27's probation. This
I was anxious to see. 14 had been busy this week also. He had recruited
three probationers after me. These, 20, 29, and 33 had front row seats
along with me and 17. All the others had witnessed, and even been the
center of, this ceremony before. As for the members, they had all kept
their tuxes on. They were fully clad in their monkey suits.

As we waited for the rite to begin, I checked out the three newbies. 20 was
a Pakistani, swarthy complexion, jet black hair, a thin wispy mustache, and
a unibrow. Black peach fuzz on his swimmer's body. His age was probably the
same as his uniform number.

29 was a happy kid. A permanent, big, toothy grin on his face. He had long
brown hair that brushed his shoulders, but no body hair at all. I had seen
him shaving it off in the morning.

And 33 was a skinhead, in his late twenties. A nose ring. Some tats. Very
unlike any of the other slave tops. But I had seen him in action, and he
was truly submissive. He respectfully obeyed orders and could fuck on
command.

The roster of slaves had tops to satisfy every taste. 14 was indeed a
skilled recruiter. He knew what the members wanted, and he knew where to
find it, and how to get it.

Number 18 began playing the piano. Lots of pomp. Then Harrison stepped
forward and took a seat as the chief officer. Jackson had been appointed
sergeant-at-arms for the evening. He took a position at the door and
pounded a mace three times on the floor.

"Sergeant-at-Arms. Have you a candidate that seeks a position here at
Master Bottoms Club?"

"We have, Mr. President."

"By what name is this candidate known, Sergeant-at-Arms?"

"Number 27, Mr. President."

"Or Dickhead," mumbled Billings sitting off to one side, and there was a
small murmur of tittering. Apparently this was one of Billings' standard
lines.

"Bring him forth."

"Yes, Mr. President." Jackson turned and opened the door. There stood 27 in
his uniform and blindfolded. On one side stood Hastings and on the other
Eisenhof, the two most senior members present at the house for this
ceremony. They took him by his arms and led him into the middle of the room
and stood him in front of one of the leather armchairs facing the
president's chair. Then they took seats beside Billings.

"Do you feel 27 meets all of our criteria?"

"Yes, Mr. President, in two weeks he has proven his value to this
enterprise."

"We shall see." Harrison turned to Gupta, and asked, "The first Criterion?"

"The first criterion is size, Mr. President."

"Sergeant-at-Arms, does this candidate meet the first criterion?"

"See for yourself, Mr. President." Jackson took off 27's codpiece and his
dick immediately sprang to its full size. Even I was impressed. I had
admired this cock in the shower, with its complement of two hairy nuts, and
its lush patch of pubic bush. And I had witnessed 27 plow numerous asses
with it, but this was the first time I had seen it for any length of time
fully erect. I wondered when his centerpiece turn was come around.

"It looks impressive, but we must be sure."

"Yes, Mr. President" Jackson produced the official MB ruler, its twenty
inches length presumed to be sufficient for all contingencies. He placed it
against the base of 27's shaft and held his helmet against it. He then
announced, "10 and 3 quarter inches, Mr. President." There was a general
sigh of satisfaction throughout the whole room. I felt satisfied, as I knew
I had at least another half inch on 27.

Harrison continued. "The second Criterion?"

"The second criterion is prowess, Mr. President." said Gupta.

"Sergeant-at-Arms, does this candidate meet the second criterion?"

"I call on one of our esteemed members, Mr. President. Mr. Eisenhof, have
you witnessed 27's prowess during these two weeks?"

Eisenhof stood and declared, "Two nights ago, that fuckin Dickhead screwed
my ass for three hours straight!" The pompous atmosphere had been
shattered. All the tops were giggling. 27 himself produced a shitface smirk
and nodded to the truth of Eisenhof's words. Even Harrison was sore pressed
not to lose his composure entirely.

"Uh, the third criterion, Mr. Gupta?"

"The third criterion is compatibility, Mr. President."

"Sergeant-at-Arms, does this candidate meet the third criterion?"

"We are about to find out, Mr. President." Jackson told 27 to sit on the
chair behind him. He was still wearing his collar, harness and
blindfold. His dong was still rock hard.

Wilson stood up, moved in front of the slave gallery, lowered his pants and
mooned us. He then walked over and sat down, impaling himself on 27's
rod. He sat there a moment and finally, 27 called out, "Mr. Wilson, Sir."
Blindfolded he had identified a member by the feel of his ass swallowing
cock. Wilson nodded, stood up, pulled up his pants, turned and shook 27's
penis. "Very good, young man."

Then each of the other members did the same. 27's dick recognized the next
asshole immediately. "Mr. Gupta, Sir."  I closed my eyes and felt I could
also. Gupta's hole was unique: large and cavernous.

Hastings took a little longer. He and Logan had very similar chutes, but
then 27 remembered Logan had already left the house. "Mr. Hastings, Sir."
Correct.

"Mr. Jackson, Sir." Well, of course, he's got the hairiest ass in the
house.

"Mr. Eisenhof, Sir." I wasn't sure I could identify Eisenhof. I resolved to
make sure I somehow fuck him a few times in the coming week.

And so it went, ass after ass. Of course, as long as 27 wasn't too nervous,
he should have mentally checked off the asses, making the latter
identifications easier. When all the other present members had been
correctly identified, Harrison himself stood up, mooned us, and sat down on
the omniscient phallus. "Mr. Harrison, Sir."

All the members applauded and the slaves joined in. The other probationers,
I'm sure were making lots of mental notes as I was. I also determined to
check the reservation schedule and concentrate on those members who would
be here a week later.

Harrison stood, pulled up his pants, and like all the others before him,
turned and shook 27's penis. "Very good, young man. Now stand up."

27 stood. Damn it, but he was still rock hard. Jackson removed the
blindfold, and it took 27 a few seconds to get accustomed to the sudden
bright light.

"27, you have been found by this austere body to be of some small value to
our enterprise. I therefore officially declare your period of probation
fully and totally satisfied."

Jackson held up the codpiece and ceremoniously ripped off the offending
P. He placed the initial in an ash tray and lit it with his cigar
lighter. That was a dramatic touch. He then handed 27 the P-less
codpiece. Despite his huge hardon, 27 managed to get this final piece of
his uniform back on.

"You are now a full fledged employee of the Master Bottoms Club, with all
the rights and privileges attendant thereto." OK, this is what I wanted to
hear.

"One day off a week." Oh, so that's why I couldn't find some of the guys
sometimes.

"One week paid vacation." Holy shit. On the other hand, our pay wasn't all
that much.

"Triple your probationary salary." Holy shit again.

"Special pay for special duties." I had heard rumors of slave tops
accompanying members to Europe. I suppose that would be special duty.

"And finally, for this one time, and one time only, 27, you may select the
bottom you wish to fuck between now and breakfast tomorrow morning. Think
very carefully about this decision, for you will never again have the
opportunity to choose. Take your time, 27."

27 stood there silently for a while. But I'm sure he had already made up
his mind. He had probably deliberated on this decision for days. It wasn't
just a matter of picking the best asshole, - the best of the best, I should
say. It was also important to select a bottom who would appreciate being
chosen, and who would have something to offer in exchange for your good
favor, like some "special duty" or some post-employment position. A lot of
factors would need to be weighed for this momentous decision. Already my
mind was running down the potential benefits of each choice. Unfortunately,
a slave is limited to the bottoms who happen to be present at the
conclusion of his probation.

"if you would be so kind, Mr. President, I choose Mr. Bennings, Sir."

"Yes!" shouted Bennings as he extended his hand to Hastings and received
from him a large bill.

Bennings quickly grabbed 27's still hard dick and took him out of the
room. They disappeared up the stairs, not to be seen again until well past
noon. Bennings even skipped his morning swim.

The rest of the members began shedding their monkey suits, lighting their
cigars and calling on various tops for service. Since there were so many of
us there, no one had to work too hard. For instance, while the first night
I was called to lick two sweet assholes, a truly pleasant chore, now it was
a case of two or more slaves licking one asshole. There were lots of fuck
sandwiches that evening with a bottom swallowing one cock up his ass and
another down his throat. The night of the ceremony was designed to be one
which all those in the house would enjoy.

Gupta called me over and told me to lay on the pool table. Then he ordered
29, the new kid with the huge grin, to straddle my thighs, facing the other
direction. That way 29 could hold our two cocks to make one gigantic thick
one. Gupta climbed up and squatted down on top of us. It was my first true
menage a trois at the club, and only the second one I had witnessed. They
weren't too common, mainly because all the tops had such thick cocks that
only the most accomplished asshole could swallow more than one at once.
Obviously Gupta had studied our dicks carefully and knew which pair he
could handle. A few of the other members stopped to admire him. This was a
feat they envied. Slowly Gupta came down until his hole rested squarely on
both our Dickheads. Then with a little kegel movement, he opened up and
took us in. Slowly at first, he rode up and down the double shaft. It felt
so fucking hot to have my cock pressed smack against 29's shaft in this
confined space. As Gupta began to increase the pace, I could feel 29
throbbing against me. I could feel his preliminary manjuices flowing down
my shaft. I was sure he had never done this before for he moaned loudly. No
longer gripping the yoked shafts, 29 reached over and grabbed both my hands
in his and squeezed as Gupta bounced his way to orgasm. It took expert
booty talent to control not just one top's ejaculation but two, and Gupta
was endowed with it. He came down hard one last time, clamped his sphincter
around the double dick and in a moment, both 29 and I were filling his hole
with our combined splooge. All three of us sighed a simultaneous "ahhhhhh."

Rather than telling Admiral Dick which tops they wanted assigned to their
various bedrooms, the bottoms simply grabbed the choices and pulled them
upstairs by their dicks. Some even got greedy and went to bed with two
tops. Hastings we saw had lost his choice to Bennings, so he would have to
settle for someone else. He chose me. He just gripped my cock hard and
pulled me up to his room. I liked Hastings. I liked the way his sphincter
just sucked me in. He reminded me of Logan. But this time, I closed my eyes
and tried to memorize every little detail about his ass. I also knew he
would feel uncomfortable sitting on me next week. Hastings always preferred
assuming the mish position, his legs spread, his hands holding his knees,
my hands on his feet. Then I'd lean forward and simply tickle his shithole
with my Dickhead and whoosh, I'd get swallowed inside. He always amazed
me. All these bottoms had awesome talents.

At about half past two I was traded for Eisenhof's pair, 3 and 10. Wow, I
was worth two others! What a trade. This was also the opportunity I needed
to study Eisenhof's rear end at length. He used my cock for over three
hours, and I used that time to memorize every bump on his ass, every
peculiar anal spasm. Eisenhof was in his upper forties but he was just as
horny as the younger bottoms. He practically danced on my cock. I finally
felt I had this guy pegged. Now I only had to concentrate on any new
members as they arrived. By six, old Eisenhof was tiring, and he decided to
send me downstairs.

I knew I had to shit, shower and eat and get to my morning chores, whatever
Admiral Dick assigned, but before I started day eight at the Club, I laid
on my cot a few minutes, and contemplated my new life. "Damn it, Fred, this
is one hell of a place to work!"

[Does 37 continue to work at Master Bottoms? What happens when he visits
his mother? Who is the young Hollywood star who is a member of the club?
And what about the member with the dog fetish? Find out in the next
episode.]