Date: Thu, 26 Sep 2002 20:38:08 -0400
From: istari <istari@blazenet.net>
Subject: Mastering Alex, 21 - 22

The following story describes the evolving relationship
between and man and a thirteen-year-old boy. It is the story
of a safe, loving, consensual, dominant/submissive
relationship and does contain scenes of bondage, sado
masochism, etc. If that sort of thing makes you
uncomfortable, please stop reading. This story is utter
fiction, the product perhaps of my own childhood fantasies,
and nothing more.


Comments are welcome at istari_olias@hotmail.com

Just a sincere note of thanks to everyone who has shared
their thoughts and feelings with me since this little
project began. Our young hero's adventures could not
continue with your support, suggestions, and encouragement.
You know who you are.

Scott, Chapter 21 is dedicated to you, I think you'll know
why.


Mastering Alex

Chapter 21: A Boy's Heart.

     I woke up with Alex lying beside me, still asleep. It's
a wondrous thing. Practically every day for the last three
years I'd awakened this way, with my naked boy pressed
against me, but I'd never lost that feeling that this was so
special, the love between us so strong. The boy beside me
had grown a little bit bigger each year, each month, and I
smiled to myself when I realized he was now a handsome young
teenager, and that one day it would be a young man waking up
in my arms. I love boys, yes, but I began to sense that my
love for Alex had transcended that.
     You see I am simply and totally and madly in love with
Alex. I loved him when he was a cuddly little four-year-old.
I loved him when he was a shy, sad, skinny eight-year-old. I
loved him when he was a quiet and vulnerable eleven-year-
old. I loved him as the confident young teen who lay beside
me that morning as the summer sun shone through the windows.
     He stirred and stretched.
     "Still sore?" I asked after a quick morning kiss.
     Alex smiled at me. "Ready for more," he sang as he took
his usual position between my legs. When he'd finished
bringing me off, I had him stand at the foot of the bed
while I examined the marks from yesterday.
     "Put on some shorts, and a T-shirt," I told him.
     "Okay."
     "I'll unlock the closet for you."
     He looked adorable in the blue soccer shorts and the
long plain white T-shirt he'd picked out. It had been a few
days since he'd worn clothes, and I often forget just how
sexy he is when he's dressed. I figured the clothing rubbing
against the boy's bruised and tender skin would be a subtle
but constant reminder of the whip, and it was. He moved
around uncomfortably the whole morning as he fixed and
served my breakfast and cleaned the house. Watching him
wrestle with the vacuum cleaner was priceless.
     My young house-boy was hard at work in the bathrooms
when the phone rang. It was Robert. Normally Michael made
most of his calls for him, so I knew this had to be
important.
     "How is the young man's shoulder?" he asked after we'd
gotten the pleasantries out of the way.
     "Fine," I replied. "Dr. Collins made us feel right at
home."
     I heard him chuckle on the other end of the line. "And
what did you think of young Sebastian?"
     "I've been trying not to. I've never seen a boy with
tattoos before. Alex wants one now. He hasn't asked me yet,
but he's just waiting for the right moment to spring it."
     "He'd look nice with one," Robert offered. "Sam can do
it for you, anything you can imagine. He did Sebastian's. I
was there. Very hot. He'll probably have the kid's entire
body covered by the time he's eighteen."
     That was a strangely erotic image.
     "Maybe for his next birthday," I said. "Thirteen's
still a little too young in my book . . . for something so
permanent. What if Alex wants to try out for the swim team
this year? Kid swims like a fish you know."
     "You can always put it in a place where no one but you
will ever see it."
     Now there was an idea, but Robert had other things on
his mind.
     "Well," he said softly, "I am glad he was not
permanently damaged."
     "I swear I thought you were going to kill me right over
the phone."
     "No. Injuries are inevitable in our lifestyle, but I
had to be sure you weren't abusing him. If I scared you, I
am sorry."
     "I mostly scared myself. But we've both learned a lot
about each other since then."
     "That's good. Will you and Alex be joining us this
weekend?"
     I didn't answer right away. Ever since Robert had
handed me that ominous invitation, I'd been debating this.
I'd finally shown it to Alex a few weeks ago. Naturally he
was eager to go and show everyone what a great master he
had, and what a good slave he was. He made it seem like it
was just a trip to the movies or something. His na‹ve
innocence was very cute, but it also worried me. At some
level he still had no idea what all this really meant, or
just how seriously certain people took it.
     I wasn't afraid he would embarrass himself. Alex was
already too smart, and too clever, and too good a slave for
that. But I was afraid he might encounter slaves who were
not as brave and strong as he was, slaves who were sad,
pathetic specimens of humanity. So young and impressionable,
I did not want him ever thinking that's how I wanted him to
be.
     And then there were the other masters to consider. Alex
was new and very young, still a child in the grand scheme of
things. He would, naturally, be the subject of unrelenting
scrutiny. I remembered that first day when he stood in front
of Robert and endured the seasoned master's harsh
interrogation, cruel and calculated to break him. Alex was
brave and wonderful that day, but Robert had given him all
he could take, and he was crying when it was over. If he
lost it in front of all of those people, what would it do to
him? Alex had embraced his life as a slave. He was thriving.
I did not want to risk that.
     "You have doubts," Robert said.
     "I do. Alex wants to go, but I don't think he's
prepared for what he'll see. I'm not sure if I am either."
     "Come and see us, Michael and me. Tonight if you can.
You can stay with us a few days, and we'll go together if
you think you're ready. It's not a long ride from my place."
     That was an offer I could not refuse. "You are so good
to us," I said.
     "I love you like a son, Steven. And I love Alex like
the terrific young man he is."

     Alex was instantly excited about our trip. Not only the
weekend gathering, but also the chance to spend a few days
with Robert and Michael in their big mansion.
     "You've got such a crush on him," I said, referring to
the handsome young eighteen-year-old.
     "I . . . I do not," he spat, as he packed his
toothbrush.
     "Come on," I goaded him. "One faggot to another, he's
cute, isn't he?"
     "Yeah, but that doesn't mean . . . "
     "Alex is in love. How sweet."
     "I am not," he said each word forcefully.
     "Well, would you like to take a little gift to this
person you don't love, just to let him know how you don't
feel?"
     Alex grinned from ear to ear and nodded his head yes.
"I know just what I want to do."
     He ran to his bedroom and sat down at his desk.
Watching from the doorway I could see him sketching away. I
walked in quietly behind him and looked over his shoulder.
Alex' art is more expressive than representative. He rarely
ever draws people, or places or things. Alex draws feelings.
It's an amazing talent. There was a flourish and an almost
childish joy in the wild colors and swirling shapes, just
giving the hint of human form. He almost never used color,
preferring a world in black and white, but this was clearly
something special.
     "Is that the two of you?" I asked him softly. The
amorphous figures appeared to be in a gentle embrace, and,
as with all of the boy's work, there was the unmistakable
sense of motion.
     "Yeah," Alex said shyly, "sort of. I guess it's mostly
just how I feel when I'm around him."
     I put my hands on his shoulders and bent down to hug
him.
     "Sometimes you're just so beautiful," I said. He smiled
up at me.
     "I haven't drawn one for us yet," he explained, as if
I'd asked him to. "It still feels too strong. I don't know
what to draw. That's okay isn't it?"
     "When you do draw us, I know it's going to be perfect."
     He rolled it up carefully and we hunted for a rubber
band.
     "Got everything packed?" I asked as he flopped down on
his bed. We would be gone for at least two days, and
possibly more.
     Alex gave me a puzzled look. "I'm not sure what all I
should bring."
     He certainly wouldn't need many clothes. I had him pack
an overnight bag with a pair of shorts, socks, a long shirt
and his favorite black tank-top. He'd be wearing everything
else he needed before we left.
     "Strip," I told him.
     Alex was naked in an instant. I took a moment to study
his developing young body. Alex would never go through that
gangly awkward stage that leaves some boys looking all arms
and legs. He was perfect. Slender and coltish, lean and
muscular, his body just hinting at the shape of the man he
would become. His long cock hung soft and lazily between his
legs, and aside from the little sparse tuft growing above
it, Alex was still smooth and hairless.
     "Stand!"
     Immediately he put his hands behind his head and spread
his feet wide. His leather collar and the cuffs around his
slender wrists and ankles had become second nature to us
both. I put his belt on him and locked his cock and balls
away. He hummed softly. I put the plug in his ass for the
first time in days, and strapped everything tightly in
place. His harness went on next. We packed the ball-gag and
the thigh cuffs.
     "Shirt and shorts," I ordered. "Then get your socks and
shoes on."
     He pulled on the same blue shorts and plain shirt he'd
been wearing around the house, then worked himself into his
white socks. Restricted by the harness and the tight belt
around his waist, his normal graceful boyish movements were
comically inept.
     "I'm not very bendable in this stuff, am I?" the boy
asked with a wry expression.
     "That's the idea, Alex. Do your best."
     He always did. Finally he stood up again, ready for
action. His collar and wrist cuffs were in plain view, but
everything else was completely hidden. There was that dreamy
smile on his sweet young face.
     "This feels so neat," he said, "wearing all my gear
under my clothes. No one can see it, but I know it's there.
Totally sexy."
     "I thought you'd get a kick out of it."
     "I'm dripping already."
     "You never quit, do you? My horny little colt."
     "If I am it's your fault. Keeping a kid in a chastity
belt all the time. That's totally sick."
     "And you love it."
     "Sure do."
      We grabbed our few bags and went out to the truck. It
was late afternoon now, so we stopped for fast food along
the way. I was content to go through the drive up, but Alex
insisted on going inside. More and more he loved the idea of
his hidden bondage. I was worried that his harness might
show through his shirt, but it was thick enough to keep from
drawing attention to what was underneath.
     The boy polished off two roast beef sandwiches and ate
half of my fries along with his own. I had to be careful not
to get my fingers too close for fear he'd bite them off. Our
food budget was already beginning to explode with a hungry
just-turned-teenager in the house, and I knew it would only
be getting worse. He paused in his barbaric revelry once in
awhile to smile up at me sheepishly.
     "Don't know why I'm so hungry all the time," he said.
     "Teen - ager," I replied. "Goes with the territory.
You'll settle down in a few years."
     Alex shrugged his shoulders, gave me a Neanderthal-
style grunt, and dove back into his second sandwich.
     Back in the truck he was talkative and excited. I
remembered our first trip to Robert's place not so long ago.
How quiet and pensive and nervous he was, and how much
younger he seemed then. It had not even been two months, but
boys do change so rapidly at this age, and it was a more
mature version of my Alex who was sitting beside me now. And
still an incredibly cute one. I reached over and patted my
hand on his bare thigh, working it slowly up his smooth soft
skin to the hem of his shorts, until it came in contact with
the metal that encased his boyhood.
     Alexander chuckled wickedly. "Hah! Keeps you frustrated
sometimes too, doesn't it?" he teased. "I can't get out and
you can't get in!"
     "I can wait," I replied. "Days and days if I had to.
I've always got that nice little ass of yours to play with.
You, on the other hand . . . are just plain stuck."
     "Okay, okay," he laughed. "I get it."
     He would be getting it, before the night was over.

     Before we rang the bell, I stripped Alex out of his
clothes, attached the leash to his collar, and put the ball-
gag in the boy's mouth, strapping it tightly behind his
head. Michael opened the door to us. He bowed respectfully
to me, and smiled brightly at his young counterpart. Robert
appeared from his study and gave me firm handshake. He gave
Alex a loving and gentle smack on the side of his face, then
he put his hand under the boy's chin and stared long into
Alexander's eyes.
      My boy did not look away.
     "Last time you were here," he said to Alex, "you were
just a boy. Now I see you are considerably more than that.
To be a slave is to be a very special person. You understand
that, don't you?"
     Alex nodded that he did. I sent him back to bring in
our bags, and Michael led us down the hall to a room on the
first floor, which would be ours for the next several
nights. Alex dutifully lugged everything along behind me.
Like everything else about Robert's place, the room was
spacious and had a modern feel to it, quite a departure from
the two-hundred-year-old house Alex and I lived in. It was a
nice escape, and Alex immediately loved all of Robert's
electronic gadgetry.
     Robert stuck his head in for just a moment. "Why don't
you two get comfortable. I'll put some tea on later. The
bathroom has a whirlpool if you're interested. Michael will
get you started. Make yourselves at home."
     Still silenced by the gag, Alex eyed me with desperate
excitement. I gave him a little tug on his leash to bring
him back in line.
     "Unpack our things," I stated firmly. "I'll have
Michael show me the works."
     Alex got to work, and handsome young Michael showed me
to the bathroom, if you could call it that. It was almost as
large as the bedroom itself, with a big window that took up
an entire wall, offering a wonderful view of Robert's wooded
property. The tub looked more like a small pool. It already
had water in it, ready and waiting. Michael, in his collar,
harness and belt, his usual attire, deftly and expertly got
everything started and showed me the basics. The jets came
on and set the water rolling.
     "It will take a few minutes for the water to heat up,
sir," Michael explained after he'd satisfied himself that I
knew what I was doing. He brought out a set of towels for us
and laid them by the sink, as well as some lotions and oils.
"May I get anything else for you, sir?"
     "No, Mike, thank you." He bowed his head humbly and
turned to leave. I followed him out. Alex was finished with
his little task and eagerly waiting for me. Wonderful how
thirteen-year-olds can turn into little boys again when they
get excited. Michael gave him an affectionate pat on the
shoulder. Alex nearly melted.
     When it was just the two of us, I told him to come
stand in front of me. Alex put his hands behind his head
without being told. I ran my fingers playfully up and down
his sides, over his chest and stomach, then down his shapely
young legs. He purred and sighed and closed his eyes. Touch
was electrifying to him, especially when he was in his belt.
     "I'm going to keep you gagged for a while," I told him.
My young boy just looked so sexy and vulnerable with that
dark red ball in his mouth, the leather straps buckled
tightly around his head. He blinked his eyes for me just
once. Working slowly, I took off his gear. First his
harness, then his cuffs, then his belt. All the time I was
sensually massaging his soft young skin and the firm
developing muscles beneath it. His butt-plug slid out with
no trouble at all. Soon he'd be ready for a larger one. The
metal pod, rustproof, remained around his cock and balls.
Last, as always, was his collar.
     There was that look of surrender in his eyes again, and
I felt his body relax against my touch. I laid the boy down
on the bed and he spread his legs for me. My fingers worked
easily into his young rectum, pink and hairless, and no
longer quite so tight as it had been. I liked him a little
loose. It made penetration less of a struggle for both of
us.
     Just weeks ago he would have been panting and squirming
and wiggling around like a dervish. Now he just lay there
utterly contented as I leisurely fingered him. I knew he was
feeling it. Every so often his body would give an
involuntary shudder or I'd feel his little ring clench up
around my fingers. I had three of them inside him now, and
could have gotten a fourth if I'd wanted to tear him up or
cause him pain. I wanted neither. This was about pleasure.
That slow, agonizing, frustrating pleasure he'd learned all
at once to love and hate as his immature prostate was
relentlessly massaged and stimulated.
     Alex was moaning softly and soon his quiet sobs began.
Somehow this always wrecked him emotionally, more than
anything else we did. I knew that inside the pod the boy's
restrained cock was leaking his clear fluid, trying
desperately to erect itself. I kept going for a while,
keeping that maddening pressure on his insides. Finally,
when I figured the water was warm enough for us, I just
stopped.
     That is the real cruelty and mastery of working the
kid's prostate. He would not have an orgasm. He knew it, and
yet he had to lay there obediently and silently and endure
the unbearable pleasure that suddenly and sharply just
ceased. There was no climax, no release. It just stopped.
His expression was one of desperation, as it always was at
the end. I drew him into my arms and kissed him, running my
fingers tenderly over his tightly closed eyes, his freckled
nose, his soft cheeks without even the slightest trace of
peach-fuzz, and the cold rubber ball in his mouth.
     "Let's take a bath," I said.
     He clung to me like a little child and I led him into
the spacious room where the whirlpool was bubbling and
churning, inviting us in. I held him for the first few
minutes, but the warm steamy water soon calmed him. I
removed his gag and let him go. He scooted around until he
sat across from me.
     "Feeling better now?" I asked.
     His eyes swam, but he smiled. "You really know how to
fuck me up," he said, stretching his slender legs out until
they were entwined with mine. "I think that's like the
cruelest thing you could ever do to somebody. It feels so
good, but it never gets anywhere. I always think I'm going
to explode, that's what it feels like, but I never do. Even
when you make me cum that way it's the same. It's like . . .
like the opposite of an orgasm . . . whatever that's
called."
     "I don't think there's a word for it."
     "Well, someone should invent one."
     We played footsie under the water for a few minutes,
Alex splashing and laughing the whole time. Finally he
settled down again and came around next to me. We embraced
in the warm bubbling water. He dunked himself a few times
and tried to get me under once or twice. Then we just sat
quietly, his head on my shoulder as the water swirled around
us.
     I think he was nearly asleep when Robert's quiet knock
on the door roused us both. "Tea is ready, gentlemen," he
said, then, turning his eyes to Alex, "and I have a
chocolate scone with your name on it, young man."
     Alex dried me first, as was our ritual, then himself. I
put all of his gear back on, and once my thirteen-year-old
slave was collared, cuffed, and harnessed, we made our way
to the living room. Alex carried his gag, figuring he'd be
wearing it again before the night was done.
     It was a warm and joyful gathering of friends, some
old, some new. Michael and Alex did not wait on us this
time, and were given permission to sit down together on the
large sofa. We all helped ourselves and had a lively
conversation touching on sports and politics, love and war
and life in general. I learned that Michael was an astute
and exceptionally intelligent young man, and we gave Alex
every opportunity to spread his young wings and test out his
rapidly evolving sense of the world in all its grown-up
complexity.
     Thirteen-year-olds are so charmingly idealistic, and so
morally sure and certain. It was fun watching him, and fun
talking with him. The perspective of a boy can often change
your own, if you are adult enough to listen to what he has
to say.
     "Don't you have something for Michael?" I said to him
privately.
     Alex blushed fiercely. "I forgot. May I go get it now?"
     "We are in Robert's house. I think you need to ask him
before you leave the room."
     He turned to our host. "Sir, may I be excused? I will
come right back."
     "Certainly, dear boy," Robert replied, wondering what
exactly the young lad had in mind. "He's not sick, is he?"
     "I don't think I'd call it a sickness, exactly," was my
cryptic reply.
     Alex returned with his drawing, still tightly rolled.
With it was another piece of paper I hadn't seen him write.
He must have stuffed in his bag before we left. Standing as
tall as his five-feet allowed, he marched toward Michael and
presented his thoughtful gift of friendship.
     The young man was truly surprised to be the recipient.
His blue eyes danced and he looked at each of us in his shy,
gentle way. He read Alex' little note first, then removed
the rubber band and unrolled the drawing. He looked up at
Alex in wonder. My boy stood with his hands behind his back,
nervously shuffling his feet.
     "It's beautiful," I heard Michael say to him. "And yes,
I do."
     "Share it with us, Michael," said Robert.
     "Sir, it's very personal," the young man replied.
     Robert and I exchanged a glance then glared at our
young slaves sternly.
     "None of that. We are your masters," Robert said in a
firm voice. "You will not keep any secrets between you. Now
read Alexander's letter, Michael."
     They looked at one another desperately for a moment. It
was Alex' modesty and his feelings that Michael was
protecting. Alex finally nodded that it was alright, and
Michael began in his soft, youthful voice.

     "Dear Mike,

          I think you're really cute. You're also a great
     slave and I'm trying very hard to be just like you. I
     drew this picture for you. It's what I feel when I
     think about you. I hope you like it. I hope you like me
     too.

                                             Your friend,
                                                  Alex"

     I was so proud of him. Such a sweet and generous and
loving boy. I was so lucky to have him. But, in that moment,
I also recognized that my Alex had just given a little piece
of himself to someone else, someone very special to him. I
was his master, his brother, his guardian, his lover, but
Michael was something entirely different, an ideal my boy
aspired to, a kind and gentle soul who had unknowingly
stolen a young boy's heart.
     I thought back to something Robert had said to me many
weeks ago, when all of this still seemed so new and strange:
That, one day, as my final act of love, I would let my sweet
Alex go. Seeing him with Michael now, seeing them together,
I saw a vision of that future. And I knew it was right.


Chapter 22: Alex on the Bottom.

     "On your hands and knees, sweetheart," I said.
     "Yes, sir," Alex replied, unable to hide the excitement
in his voice.
     Robert, Michael and I all stood around him. All three
of us were naked, Michael still in his collar and harness,
but freed of his chastity belt for the first time in several
months. Robert had had all of the young man's body hair
permanently removed when he was sixteen, and his smooth
tanned skin glistened in the dim soft lamplight of Robert's
modern and well-equipped dungeon. I've said before that
Michael is a small, slightly-built young man, and this
applied to his cock and balls as well. He was just under six
inches hard. My Alex was already bigger. But Michael was
very thick and beautifully shaped down there, and his balls
were large and heavy and no doubt aching for release.
     Three men were hard, gazing down at the delicate
fragile form of a naked thirteen-year-old boy on his hands
and knees. Alex was out of his belt too, and his dick was at
full staff and bobbing wildly as only a young teen's can.
Like Michael, he was still collared and harnessed. I gave
his leash a firm tug and he crawled toward me.
     Alex licked the pre-cum from my dick. I handed his
leash to Robert, who forced him to do the same. Then came
Michael's turn to be cleaned. Mike would not take Alex'
leash, but he did moan and sigh when the boy's warm mouth
engulfed his perpetually frustrated cock. I pulled Alex back
sharply and he settled back into his submissive position on
all fours.
     "Alex. Stay."
     The boy did not move. The three of us all stood in
front of him now, staring down at him, hard and hungry for
this boy, even Robert, whose tastes normally did not run
quite so young, but Alex does have a certain affect on
people.
     "Alex," our host said in his quietly menacing voice,
"tonight you will learn more about what it means to be a
slave. You are going to be done, boy, and done good. From
now until the time we let you go to sleep not one minute is
going to pass when you won't have a dick fucking you at both
ends, and one of us working that nice young cock of yours.
You will be blindfolded. Michael."
     The young man handed the leather blinder to me. I knelt
in front of my boy. He was already shaking.
     "Frightened?" I asked as I lowered the blindfold over
his eyes.
     "Yes, sir."
     Robert was there beside me, and he gently squeezed the
boy's shoulders. "We won't let any harm come to you. You are
loved, Alex, and you will be loved the way a slave should.
Will you trust us?"
     "Yes, sirs." His answer was immediate and carried no
doubt, fear yes, but no doubt.
     As Robert was our host, it was only fair that he take
the boy first. Alex gasped in horror when I gave Robert
permission to fuck him. I felt so guilty, but Alex needed to
learn that being a slave meant his master could share him
with others, or give his little ass away. His sole duty was
to obey.
     "Tell us your safeword, Alex."
     "It's butterfly, sirs," he said. His young voice was
suddenly very high and trembling.
     Robert knelt down in front of him and held the boy's
head in his hands. "Listen very carefully, Alex, this is
very important. Most of the time you will not be able to
speak. If you need to say your word and you can't, tap
whoever is in front of you three times on the leg. That's
all you have to do and everything stops. Do you understand?"
     "Yes, sir, thank you, sir."
     "This is not about hurting you, or shaming you. This is
about training you, young man, to endure things you never
thought you could. I'm going to fuck you now, and you are
going to give your master a fine sucking."
     No more was said. Robert and I took our positions on
our knees in front and behind him. Michael dutifully lay on
his back and worked his way beneath our boy-on-all-fours. We
let him go first, and he gave Alex a slow leisurely
stroking, working the thirteen-year-old's foreskin up and
down with a firm, milking grip. Alex moaned, and that was my
signal to start. He sucked me feverishly for a moment, until
Robert carefully but ruthlessly entered him. Then, I'm sure,
the boy's entire world turned to madness.
     Alex was being plugged at both ends. Robert had taken
forceful possession of his sweet young boyhole, with long
powerful thrusts of a cock considerably larger and thicker
than my own. I was in my boy's mouth, holding his head
firmly in my hands as I worked my cock down his throat. I
timed my thrusts, so that I entered every time Robert
withdrew. It was driving the kid wild. Between the boy's
trembling legs, Michael had taken control of Alex' cock,
giving him firm, loving strokes, taking him to the edge and
then denying him.
     "Milk him good, Mike," I ordered. The young man,
entirely ignoring his own throbbing erection, did just that.
Before long a steady stream of pre-cum was dripping onto the
soft mat that covered the floor. Alex moaned and purred and
would have shouted had his master's cock not kept him quiet.
     After about twenty minutes, Robert and I switched
places. Neither of us had cum yet. Alex knew something was
happening, but in his blindfold he could not see. We began
again. I felt my boy tense, just for a moment, as I pressed
my cock deep into his gaping hole, red and ravaged. Robert
had indeed torn him just a bit, but there was no bleeding to
speak of. In a single thrust I entered him. He whimpered and
sobbed, then had his voice abruptly cut off by Robert's
giant cock worming down his narrow throat.
     "Is he still hard?" I asked Michael as I slid roughly
in and out of my boy.
     "Yes, sir."
     "Keep him that way. Tell me when he cums."
     It was perhaps another half-hour of intense fucking
before that finally happened. I felt Alex' little ring
clench around my cock, he moaned deeply and softly, and the
boy's sperm was soon dribbling from his penis onto the
floor.  Robert got the frantic sucking of his life as Alex
once again endured the sensation of cumming without orgasm.
The kid was shaking, clawing his hands desperately into the
soft mat beneath him. Seeing Alex in his spasmodic sexual
frenzy sent Robert and me over the edge. We both came
together and filled him from both ends with our seed.
     I pulled out slowly. My juices trickled from the boy's
gaping hole and ran down his legs. I could see it dripping
from his mouth as well. Normally Alex swallowed everything,
but he was too frantic and too worn out to bother. My boy
remained submissively on his hands and knees, waiting for
his masters to take him again. Alex knew we were only just
beginning, but we would need a few minutes to recover before
we started over, and we were not about to leave him empty.
Robert worked a large butt-plug up Alexander's ass, nearly
twice the size he was used to. I strapped his gag in place.
Through it all, young Alex was completely silent and
obedient. To keep him limber while we recharged, Michael was
told to take the boy by his leash and lead him around the
dungeon on all fours. It was an endearing, and arousing
sight.
     Michael was very hesitant at first, unsure of this new
unfamiliar role he was being asked to play. His position in
Robert's house had been unambiguous since he was fifteen
years old, but Alex' presence here had abruptly changed
that. Among the four of us, there was simply no question
that Alex was a bottom of the most profound magnitude, thus
young Michael found himself unexpectedly thrust into a
dominant role. It made him visibly uncomfortable, but it was
utterly impossible to imagine this scene ever being
reversed. In any hierarchy of dominance and submission, Alex
would always be the last link in the chain.
     Hesitance aside, Michael was a faithful and loyal
slave, and followed his master's orders without question.
And, he did gradually begin to assert himself. Before long
he had my young Alex under his firm and strict control,
pulling firmly but always gently on the leash, reaching down
and giving the thirteen-year-old's cute little ass a nice
swat whenever he strayed too far away. I couldn't help but
smile.
     "Seems Mikey is enjoying himself," I observed.
     "I believe he's learning something tonight as well,"
Robert replied with a certain light in his eyes.
     Michael had Alex back in position and waiting for us.
The plug came out, the gag came off and we started on him
again. Alex had surrendered totally. Even the deepest
submissives put up a little instinctual resistance at first,
but now he just stayed there on his hands and knees, his
only movement resulting from the powerful thrusts of the
cocks buried in his mouth and rear end. His only sounds were
those deep mournful groans that told me he was in another
world.
     I lost track of the time, focusing all my thoughts on
delaying my next orgasm as long as possible. We probably
carried on this way, switching several times, for another
two hours. By the end, the boy's arms and legs had turned to
rubber. Robert and I held him up as we continued to use him.
Alex' strong ecstatic groans were becoming frail whimpers of
exhaustion. Finally, as my cock swelled in his throat, I
felt three weak little taps on my leg. His hand remained
there, gripping tightly to my thigh.
     "That's three," I announced.
     Immediately we all stopped. With great care and
tenderness, Robert gradually pulled out. Alex collapsed on
his stomach, splayed out and motionless, unable to even
manage a wiggle. He was breathing softly. I left him in his
blindfold. Robert and I still had some unfinished business
throbbing between our legs.
     Michael dutifully offered his mouth. I must confess he
is very skilled, though I missed the warmth and smallness of
my own boy. He did his master last, and they ended with the
rough kiss I'd seen before. Michael was now the only one of
us who hadn't spilled his seed in some way, and his cock was
still rock-hard. I don't remember him softening even once
the entire time.
     "May I help him with his little problem, Robert?"
     "By all means."
     The young man blushed visibly, especially at the word
'little'. There was no denying it though. Compared to the
other three cocks in the room, his was the junior member.
And I'm sure Alexander's more than generous endowment was a
source of embarrassment for him. Being smaller than your
master is one thing, being smaller than a boy who was still
in middle school was quite another. In truth, Mike's cock,
while not large by anyone's measure, was certainly more than
adequate, and it was quite thick and meaty, making up in
girth what it lost in length, with a perfect curve to it. A
beautiful organ. Feeling I'd unintentionally hurt his
feelings, I took the eighteen-year-old's penis in my hand
and stroked it gently.
     "It's really very beautiful, Michael," I said to him.
"I think you're perfect the way you are."
     Mike smiled at me, and, bless him, he moved close and
rested his head on my shoulder as I slowly masturbated him.
His really has the perfect cock for a slave. Large enough to
have fun with when a master desires it, small enough to
simply ignore the rest of the time. I've often wondered why
nature saw fit to give Alex such a big one, when his natural
tendencies meant that he would be using it so seldom.
     It wasn't long before Michael shot into my hand. There
wasn't much, and I could see it gave him very little
pleasure. Robert had given him a thorough milking not two
days earlier.
     "I believe slaves should be kept dry," the seasoned
master explained. "Makes them much happier when they don't
have to think about cumming all the time."
     I'm not sure if 'happy' was an accurate description for
Michael at that moment. Sexual frustration can become a
permanent state of existence if a young man is denied long
enough. Robert was clearly taking Michael in a direction
that I did not want Alex and I to go, at least not entirely.
     Alex was still stretched out on his stomach when we
returned to him. I knelt beside him and removed the
blindfold, kissing his eyelids tenderly before they
fluttered open.
     "Feeling okay?" I asked.
     He moaned weakly as I took his hand. "Hmmm. Can't
move," he whispered.
     I began to massage his shoulders. Robert and Michael
soon joined me, rubbing Alex' back and his thighs. The boy
now had six firm gentle hands caressing him, soothing his
tired aching muscles. I rubbed his arms, Michael rubbed his
feet, Robert straddled him and pressed his hands into the
small of his back. Alex sighed, lost in the simple pleasure
of our tender, loving ministrations. Touch has always been
important to him, a physical connection to those he loves.
He cannot live a day without it.
     "Still awake, little man?"
     His eyes opened lazily. "Yes, sir."
     I got him to his feet. He was often quite talkative
after a scene, but not tonight. It was still far too intense
for him to make sense of. There had been a darkness in this
room, and not because of his blindfold. He felt it
surrounding him, and as much as it frightened him, it also
compelled him. The boy just gazed at us all sleepily.
     "Take him upstairs, Steven," Robert said softly. "I
believe he's given us all he has tonight."
     Indeed he had. I put my arm around him and together we
climbed the steps, leaving Robert and Michael alone. I had a
feeling their night was just beginning.

     I awoke to that strange feeling that something was
missing. I realized it was Alex. He'd fallen asleep in my
arms, snoring softly as young boys do, even before I could
pull the blankets over us. All night his small, warm, naked
body lay next to mine. Its sudden absence was unpleasant. I
knew why he was gone, and that only made it colder. He was
off by himself, thinking about last night. That meant he'd
be wanting to talk about it. I lay back, and a slight shiver
crept over me when I recalled what we'd done to him, how
harsh and cruel we had been, how relentless, how merciless.
And how we'd used him, that was the word, wasn't it?
     As I dressed and went off to find him, I had only one
thought, one I could not even bring myself to finish.
'Steven, if you've made that boy hate you . . . '
     I found him out on the deck. He was naked, leaning his
elbows on the wooden rail, gazing off into the woods, still
shrouded in morning mist. It was a touching scene, this
young boy alone in the wide, wide world. Alex still seemed
so small, and everything else so big, yet I knew that deep
inside the boy had grown and that the world was no longer so
dark and scary to him. After just watching for a moment, I
quietly stepped beside him.
     "Hey," I finally said, breaking the silence.
     "Hey," Alex answered back. "You're up early."
     Over the last month I'd come to enjoy making Alex wait
in the mornings, leaving him chained to his bed or locked in
his cage. Slaves spent a lot of their time just waiting, and
it was a lesson Alex had already begun to learn.
     "I got lonely," I replied.
     Alex yawned. "I just couldn't stay in bed any longer."
     "Busy brain this morning?"
     "Yep."
     "Feel like talking about it?"
     Alex gave me a wise look far beyond his years. "You
could just make me tell you."
     "I could, but I won't."
     An unsure smile, then those beautiful thoughtful eyes.
"Last night was the hardest thing I've ever done," he said.
"I really felt like a slave. I mean, I always do, but last
night I was the slave, you know, even to Michael."
     "How did that make you feel?"
     "Scared at first," Alex replied honestly. "Three
masters all at once is tough, but then I got into it. God,
you were all so hard on me, and you just kept going after
me. I didn't think it was ever going to stop. I . . . I
liked being used that way. That's what last night was all
about, wasn't it?"
     I nodded and put my arm around him. The boy moved
closer and pressed his slender naked frame against me.
     "Part of me really hated you for letting Robert fuck
me, for just . . . just giving me away like that."
     "I know, Alex. That's part of what it means to be a
slave. You handled it very well."
     "I didn't think you'd really let it happen," Alex said.
"At first I was waiting for you to stop it. When you didn't,
everything just went all crazy. I've never felt that way
before, even with all the stuff we've done. It's like I was
just . . . " he paused, trying to put the feeling into
words, "just a piece of . . . of furniture or something,
just a place for you and Master Robert to put your dicks
whenever you felt like it."
     "Slaves are property, Alex," I reminded him rather
coldly.
     "And you can do whatever you want with me," he
continued on his own. There was that look of needful
submission in his eyes again. I was relieved to see it, and
ready to take him a little further.
     "I certainly can, and I certainly will." I locked my
hand around his slender wrist. "And right now you have your
morning duties to perform. On your knees."
     The boy was down in front of me instantly, reaching out
to pull my boxers down.
     "Hands behind your back," I said, giving them both a
quick slap.
     "But how . . ."
     "You have a mouth, Alex, don't you?"
     "Oh, wow."
     "No talking."
     Being careful not to bite me, Alex took a mouthful of
my boxers and began to tug them down. This was a new level
of humiliation for him, and he was breathing hard with
excitement. Actually his breathing wasn't the only thing
that was hard at the moment. I raised my foot and pressed it
roughly into his soft dangly scrotum, feeling his balls
retreat against my toes. Alex moaned as the pressure and
pain shot through him. Kicking him down there would have
simply been brutish. No, a small amount of force, constantly
and relentlessly applied, is often the most effective
discipline. Even as I toyed with him, he wrapped his warm
mouth around my cock and went at it.
     "You spilled some last night," I recalled. "Don't do
that again."
     With his lips encircling my dick he shook his head.
It's a beautiful sight, a gentle thirteen-year-old boy with
a big throbbing penis in his mouth, impaling his sweet face.
His hazel eyes always remained so strikingly innocent in
these moments. After just a few minutes, I grabbed him by
the ears and came with violent thrusts. Alex gagged and
sputtered, but did not let a drop of my seed fall from his
lips.
     Taking a cue from Robert, I pushed him away harshly.
Alex ended up on his back, his legs spread submissively. I
worked my foot over his cock, pressing my heel into his
balls.
     "Does this hurt?"
     "Yes, sir," he answered in a strained voice.
     I knelt down over him, pressing my knee between his
legs, slowly, firmly. Alex writhed and gasped.
     "Don't move."
     With my knee grinding into his teenaged balls, I worked
the boy's nipples, twisting and pinching and flicking them
with my fingers until they were hard. His taut muscular
stomach was rising and falling in heaving breaths now. I
stuck a single finger into his perfect little navel and
pressed down hard. Alex growled at me, and his rigid cock
surged.
     I took my knee away and straddled him now. He gazed up
at me with wild and desperate eyes. I love him like this.
You can almost smell the sex. I grabbed his penis and
stroked it hard and fast.
     "Aahh, ahhh, please, please, sir, aaahhh, please,
aaaahhhh." Alex thrust his narrow hips madly, and shot his
young sperm onto his chest. He lay there motionless. His
eyes were closed, a look of satisfaction and joy was written
upon his face.
     "Very nice, Steven," I heard Robert say with a chuckle.
     I looked up to see him standing in the doorway, with a
cup of coffee in his hand. I wondered how long he'd been
watching us.
     "You've got that slave begging you," he said as he
joined us and looked down at my prone and freshly drained
boy. "Priceless."
     "He is that," I replied. Alex managed to prop himself
up on his elbows and offered a shy `good morning' to our
host.
     "I thought you'd told me no orgasms for the young man,"
Robert said as we helped Alex to his feet.
     "I changed my mind," was the best rejoinder I could
come up with. It may have seemed indecisive and unmasterly
to Robert, but I had discovered that just keeping Alex from
cumming was not really the point, and not really enough for
either of us. Denial is not really control. It is simply
denial, and it was already becoming too easy for my
submissive boy. No, it was time to shift the ground beneath
him once again. Making the boy cum, whenever, wherever, and
however I felt like it would be the true and final
expression of my total control over his sex. I'd always keep
him on the edge, but he'd never know from week to week,
month to month, or even day to day, if he'd be allowed to
have an orgasm or not.
     Chastity would still be the general rule for my boy,
but already I envisioned weekends where he'd have to keep
himself hard and shooting over and over again until his cock
was red and raw and sore. Then, I'd put him right back into
his belt.
     "Twist him around," Robert said, seemingly having read
my thoughts and approved. "I like it. And so will you, young
man." He raised the boy's eyes to his own with a firm hand
under the chin.
     Alex stared back at him. "Whatever my master decides
for me is best, sir."
     The older master laughed and gave my young slave a
loving little slap to his face. "Such impertinence today,
little one, perhaps we didn't fuck you quite hard enough."
     Just the thought of repeating last night's session set
the boy's eyes wide and dancing. Fear and desire, it was so
arousing watching these two extremes tear him slowly apart.
     "Michael is cleaning up the dungeon this morning. May I
put this young colt to work in the kitchen?"
     "Let me get him harnessed and belted first," I replied.
I took Alex by the hand and led him back to the bedroom.
Getting him into his gear was still a wonderful moment
between us, its routine in no way diminishing the profound
meaning of his strict bondage and chastity. Harnessed,
belted, always collared. I worked the plug up his ass and
strapped it in place. I put his thigh cuffs on as well, just
because they made him look so sexy. With his leash in place,
I ordered him on all fours and walked him out to the
kitchen, where Robert was patiently waiting for him. I
noticed a slender riding crop in his hand.
     "He's all yours," I said as I handed Robert the boy's
leash and tacitly nodded my approval of the crop. "Do
whatever Master Robert tells you, Alex."
     "Yes, sir."
     I returned to the living room to enjoy the magnificent
view from the windows, and the fresh coffee awaiting me on
the table. I heard Robert order Alex to stand up, the quick
swishing of the crop through the air, and Alex' submissive
little squeal as it made contact with his rear end. After
that I tuned everything out.
     Alex was becoming a great little kitchen drudge, and
Robert again proved himself a gracious host, fixing an
enormous breakfast. We ate together in his sunny kitchen.
Alex with his behind nicely reddened, and Michael sat on the
floor with their plates in front of them. As Alex was
finishing off his third waffle of the morning, I could not
help but smile.
     "You never made breakfast like this for me when I
stayed with you," I said to Robert.
     "My dear Steven," he waved a finger at me in
admonishment, "you were in no condition for breakfast when
you stayed with me."
     Alex shot his head up and looked at me with questioning
eyes. I'd dropped enough hints over the last two months, and
he knew that Robert and I had some sort of past related to
my less sober days.
     "How much does the boy know?" Robert asked, looking
sidelong at Alex.
     "Just that you helped me. I've left the rest to his
imagination."
     Robert laughed and patted Alex on the head. "Keep
imagining, boy. You weren't the first member of your family
to spend time in my dungeon, just the first one to be fucked
there."
     Alex winced a little at the memory of last night, then
gave me a dark smirk. "You must have really been messed up."
     He had no idea. Then again, maybe he did.
     After breakfast, Michael returned to the dungeon with
Alex in tow. Robert explained to me over a final cup of
coffee that a slave should be fully responsible for the care
and maintenance of the implements of his own pain and
discipline. "Michael is punished severely if I ever find
dust or dirt down there. All the leather is to be cleaned
and oiled, all the metal to be buffed and polished. Gives
the boy a proper perspective. You should put Alex on such a
regimen, if you haven't already."
     Up until now, creating our dungeon had been a joint
effort between man and boy, but now that it was taking
shape, it was time to add it to the growing list of
Alexander's duties. Robert and I spent the next several
hours discussing the finer points of raising a boy slave.
Robert had done it successfully, and although Michael had
already been a teenager when he took him in, his experiences
were still valuable and insightful.
     "Alex is very intelligent," Robert reminded me of the
obvious, not for the first time, "in a very subtle and
devious kind of way. I don't mean that as an insult, it is
simply part of his character. I saw it last night. You were
ready to give in and let him off the hook . . ."
     I shook my head in protest, but Robert stilled me with
a masterful stare.
     "There is no shame in admitting that you are
compassionate and gentle, Steven, even if you are a sadist.
The two are not mutually exclusive as some might think. Alex
knows it, and he uses it whenever it suits him. You were
ready to stop. To hug and hold and keep evil Robert from
hurting your sweet and gentle boy. And Alex played you
perfectly . . . he had you dancing for him. I could see it
in your eyes. It is to your credit that you didn't let him
have his way."
     "This morning he told me he thought I'd make you stop.
He was upset that I didn't."
     "So, a little bit of truth from the young man."
     "Alex does not lie," I said strongly.
     "Of course he doesn't," Robert replied without any
sarcasm. "I don't believe he is capable of lying to you,
such is his love for you, but he is quite skilled at not
telling the truth. Do you see the difference?"
     I nodded.
     "He keeps his true feelings close to his skin. Every
once in a while, he lets you see the depths, but mostly he
keeps you at a safe distance. Doesn't he?"
     It was true. Alex would embrace all the pain I could
give him, but the pain inside his tormented young soul was
something he had never truly shared with me. I remembered
that day, almost five years ago, when he walked silently
beside me, staring up at me with those haunted eyes. There
was accusation there and even a little hate, just for a
moment. He'd managed to hide it over the years, but I knew
it was still there, the feeling, the truth, that the one
person in the world who could have saved him from his
torment had abandoned him to it instead.
     I've come to swear that Robert is a mind reader, at
least mine. He took my hand gently and smiled at me, and I
could tell by his expression that he understood.
     "That is why he has chosen you to be his master. He
sees you as his executioner and his savior, all at once. He
does hate you, you know, every bit as much as he loves you.
It is a paradox he cannot deal with, one he needs you to fix
for him."
     "A few weeks ago he told me it wasn't my fault . . .
that he was abused."
     "Naturally. And he wants to believe that, desperately.
But he can't. His heart keeps telling him it's a lie."
     "How do I fix him?" I asked.
     "You already are, Steven. I'm sure he's told you that
too."
     "He has. `You're making me better.'"
     "And that is the honest truth. Never be afraid to be
his master. Never be afraid to be cruel. And never give in
to him. He has his safeword, and you have taught him, with
some pain, to use it. That is all either of you need. Take
him far, Steven, take that boy the very edge of his
endurance, and then make him take another step with you. He
may stumble, but as long as you are beside him, he will not
fall."