Date: Tue, 10 Dec 2002 10:52:53 -0500
From: istari <istari@blazenet.net>
Subject: Mastering Alex 26 - 27

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,
sadomasochism, 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


Mastering Alex

Chapter 26: New Rules

     Robert and Sam stayed for close to an hour, sharing
insights with me on the vagaries and protocols of this tight-
knit community Alex and I had joined. And it was a
community, one that existed in the shadows of everyday
reality. I was told it was never to be referred to as a club
- `that's for amateurs' they told me - and those who were
involved in it, masters and slaves alike, were not to be
referred to as members. Associates, friends, family, these
were the phrases used and expected, and the implication and
expectation of permanence was quite clear.
     There was, of course, a natural hierarchy, with junior
slaves like Alex occupying the very bottom; but everyone,
from the most experienced master to the least experienced
slave, was treated with respect. Slaves did suffer
humiliation at times, after all it is in their nature to do
so, but there were limits, and I recalled once more Robert's
guiding philosophy, that a slave's basic rights as a human
being never be abused or ignored. It is a way of thinking,
and a way of treating and raising Alex, that appealed to me
deeply. I'd seen the boy grow happier and more confident
since our journey together had begun. He was stronger now,
inside and out, and yet he'd lost none of his kindness, his
compassion, his thoughtfulness, his gentle nature.
     Alex was a slave, but his beautiful spirit was free.
     And even as he slept, the three of us continued making
plans for the boy's next five days. What we would do to him
and make him do, ways to push his endurance to the limit and
beyond, games we would play with him to keep him confused
and off balance, and awake. Michael diligently sat with pad
and pencil between his legs and worked out a suitable
schedule for us, ensuring Alex would always have two people
watching him while the rest of the household slept in
shifts. In the end, I realized, we would all be working a
lot harder than Alex himself in the days to come.
     "Do we tell him, or just do it?" Samuel Collins asked,
as he leisurely stroked his little pet boy's back.
     "That is his master's decision, I believe," Robert
replied. All eyes, even young Sebastian's, were on me at
that moment.
     I had to think about it. Knowing Alex like I do,
telling him when it began would have been the more cruel and
manipulative choice, giving him time to think and worry
about the entire five days within the span of a few minutes.
Forcing him right into it with no warning also held a
certain appeal. He would have no grasp of the larger game
being played until he was well and hopelessly committed to
it. In the end I chose cruelty. Alex would know and already
be dreading it before we even started.
     "What do you think, Michael?" I asked.
     The young man nearly dropped his pencil, then looked at
his master first before answering me. "I agree with you,
sir. I think you should tell him."
     "No. I think we'll make you tell him, with your
master's permission of course," I replied sharply.
     Robert grinned, as a look of absolute dismay crossed
Michael's handsome and still boyish features.
     "Problem, Michael?" Robert asked darkly.
     The eighteen-year-old sat up straight. "No, master."
     "Then it's settled," I announced. "Once the evening is
over, we'll bring him back here and begin. Agreed?"
     Robert and Samuel indicated their approval, and there
was a playful, almost wicked smirk in young Sebastian's
eyes. Something told me I would need to watch that boy
carefully. Not that I expected him to be capable of cruelty,
but mischief yes, to a large degree. Michael, in contrast,
appeared to be in some far off place, perhaps envisioning
his new and unexpected role where my Alex was concerned.
     With my guests departed, I returned to the bedroom and
gazed at the boy beneath the blankets. Alex lay on his right
side, one hand beneath the pillow, the other resting gently
above it, close to his face. He was beautiful, and in that
moment I needed to be with him. Still in my clothes, I
pulled the covers back and crawled in beside him. He stirred
and groaned at me, then shivered, struck by the panic that
often hits when one is awakened suddenly from a deep sleep.
     "It's just me, Alex," I said quietly, gently squeezing
his shoulder.
     With a soft whimper, he rolled himself over to face me.
His hazel eyes were tired, and I saw them dance, just
momentarily, in apprehension, wondering what wicked game his
master might be up to now. I felt a curious delight that he
was beginning to think that way, but also a sudden sadness,
as if the closeness we'd shared had somehow slipped away,
just a little. I smiled at him, and I suppose my eyes told
him it really was just me, his brother, his protector, his
lover. There were times when being his master was simply too
much for either of us to bear.
     "You don't have to get up, honey," I told him, as his
hand found mine. "I thought you might like some company."
     "Thanks," Alex said, as I kissed his fingers.
     "How was it?" I asked. "Being whipped like that."
     My boy let his head fall back onto the pillow, and he
stared straight up at the ceiling, blinking his eyes slowly.
"Terrible."
     "Alex . . ."
     "I didn't say I wouldn't do it again," he replied, his
voice cracking and trembling. "The worst part was knowing
you were watching. I couldn't let him beat me. I wasn't
going to say my word . . . I wasn't going to let him make me
do it . . . even if he killed me."
     "You know it never would have gone that far . . . but I
believe you. Robert says everyone's talking about you."
     "Cool."
     "You liked all that attention, didn't you?"
     "Sometimes," he said, moving close to me so I could
wrap my arms around him. "I didn't like that thing he put
around my neck."
     "The yoke?"
     "Yeah, that."
     "Humiliating?"
     Alex nodded slowly.
     "That was the idea. And know that I know how much you
hate it, we'll definitely be getting one for you to wear
around the house."
     He glared at me, but I felt his cock twitch against my
leg. It was slowly hardening as the thought of being yoked
like an animal ran through his head.
     "That excites you."
     "Yes." His voice was small and guilty, and,
instinctively, the boy started rubbing himself against me.
     "No more of that, little man," I told him, pushing him
away.
     His sweet young eyes were desperate. "Please put my
belt back on. Please! I can't stand it like this."
     "You have to learn, Alex. I'm very disappointed in you.
You made yourself ejaculate when I was fucking you. You did
not have permission to do that."
     "I'm sorry, Steve. It just felt so good, I couldn't
stop."
     "You could have. You just didn't want to. A slave has
no right to pleasure himself."
     "I know. I'm in trouble, aren't I?"
     "I won't punish you here, but you're going to be
spending several hours in the stocks when we get home, maybe
with four or five pounds of lead hanging from your balls."
     Normally such a comment would have produced some smart
remark from him. Instead there was only silence. A sudden
thought must have crossed his mind, and it showed on his
face. "Are you mad at me?"
     "Aw, honey, no. I'm not mad." I stroked his arm and
shoulder, then his cheek. "I know how hard it is for a boy
your age to show restraint, but that's still no excuse. I'm
not going to keep you in the belt all the time. That would
be too easy for you. From now on, when you're not in your
belt, I want you to tell me when you're having an erection.
Even when we're out in public, I want to know about it,
anytime, anywhere. Understood?"
     "Yes, sir."
     "Every erection earns you punishment. It's your job to
keep track and tell me how many you had at the end of the
day."
     "Man, my ass is gonna be red forever!"
     "Probably," I laughed and kissed him on the forehead,
and he melted back into my arms. "But there are some
exceptions. When you're bound, or chained to your bed, or
sleeping in your cage . . . anytime you can't touch
yourself, it's okay for you to be hard. And when we're in
the dungeon together. I expect you to have an erection
then."
     Alex sighed and snuggled up against me. "I like that."
     "Do you?"
     "Yeah. And I've got one right now."
     "I know you do. But we'll start with a clean slate,
alright?"
     "Ok."
     "Go back to sleep. I'll wake us up in a few hours."
     "What'll we do then?" he asked as he rolled over onto
his side once more.
     "You'll see."

     I got us up around five, the growling of our stomachs
making further sleep impossible. I took Alex to the bathroom
and cleaned him out with the enema equipment provided. The
instructions told me to throw the nozzle attachment away
when I was finished, and that another would be provided the
next morning. How thoughtful.
     It was Alex' first cleansing in several days, and it
took three full bags, the second with soap, to get
everything cleared. The boy whined and moaned as he stayed
there on his hands and knees, the tube sticking out of his
cute little ass, his ripening balls hanging low between his
legs. I rubbed his thighs for him, then reached around and
massaged his distended belly, working the warm water deep
inside him. He was learning to hold it longer and longer,
and he managed to keep the last one in for more than six
minutes. The boy was pale and sweating when it was all over.
     "Alright, wipe yourself."
     He did, pausing to stick a finger up there and work it
around, uttering a sigh from the pleasure he was giving
himself. I let him have his fun for a few minutes, my own
cock dripping just from watching him.
     "Get your plug, Lexi," I finally said.
     He trotted over to the sink and presented it to me,
bending over and grabbing his ankles without being told.
He'd already managed to get himself loose and moist with his
finger, so the cold metal plug went in with relative ease.
     "mmm," he cooed softly, at once loving and hating the
constant pressure inside him.
     Back in the sitting room, Alex handed me his collar,
his young eyes flashing with that wondrous mix of anxiety
and excitement. He was ready to go on, I did not need to
ask, or doubt. I locked his collar around his neck, running
my fingers over the soft leather.
     "Hug me," he demanded.
     Those two words were the only orders Alex ever gave,
and I always obeyed whenever I heard them.
     "I love you," I told him, as he buried himself in my
strong embrace. I realized I hadn't told him that in a
while.
     He must have read my thoughts. "You don't have to tell
me. I know."
     I held him that much tighter.
     "Come on," I finally said, letting him go. "We're
missing all the fun out there."
     Alex gave me a smart little smirk.
     "Go to the armoire and pick out a leash for your
collar." I gave him a sharp pat on his rump to get him
moving. "I saw a nice silver chain that would look good on
you, but it's your choice."
     He was there and back in an instant, with the exact one
I would have chosen for him. Shiny, with small tight links,
with a leather loop at the end for the master's use. I
attached the chain to the ring in front of his collar and
gave him a firm tug, nearly pulling him off his feet. It was
shorter than Alex was accustomed to, just three feet long,
meant to keep the boy close, which was my intention. I
walked him around the room for several minutes so he could
learn the new limits on his freedom.
     "Here's the rule, just for today," I said. "I want to
feel you next to me at all times. Your hand, or your
shoulder, or your hip. You are never to let yourself out of
my reach or out of my touch. Do you understand?"
     My tone of voice told him this was very important, and
I saw just a glimmer of fear in his eyes as he nodded his
head. "Yes, sir."
     Cuffs and harness, and his belt, remained on the floor
where they'd come off. Alex gazed at them and then at me,
asking his silent question.
     "I'm going to keep you naked for a while. Let everyone
see how adorable you are."
     Alex gave me his shy trademark smile, but then his face
grew thoughtful. "Is that why I need to stay close to you?"
     "Brilliant deduction, Watson," I answered with a grin.
"These people are strangers. I don't want you getting into
trouble."
     Alex knew exactly what kind of trouble I meant, and his
expression became serious.
     "I am going to let people touch you, and play with
you," I reached down and fondled his cock, "all they want.
But I promise I won't let you go." I wrapped the leather
loop around my wrist and pulled him close again. I could
tell by his sudden sharp breathing that he was getting
nervous. Alex craves touch from those he loves, but he
cringes and shrinks from it whenever it comes from other
quarters.
     The silver chain rattled. My poor Alex was shaking. His
next words to me were a low whisper.
     "I'm scared."
     "I know you are. I also know you'll keep your place and
do as you're told."
     He nodded solemnly. "I won't let you down."
     "You never have."
     Pulling him gently behind me, we left our private
little sanctuary and returned to the world outside.


Chapter 27: Give and Take

     I hadn't told Alex about what a memorable first
impression he'd made under Bartholomew's whip. My boy was
surprised and delighted to hear so many masters call his
name, or nod respectfully in his direction. He was somewhat
less delighted to be naked and on display for them, and he
did indeed attract a great deal of attention. I offered him
freely, and Alex silently and obediently endured their
appreciative hands as they worked over his smooth boyish
chest, patted his firm little behind, and fondled his young
cock. Alex often closed his eyes and looked away, unable to
bear the relentless prodding and scrutiny of one stranger
after another. I could tell he was starting to feel
overwhelmed, and he blushed red at some of the more pointed
comments made about his appearance, his posture, and of
course the size of his rather generous endowment.
     Still, he followed my orders precisely, never allowing
himself to stray from my touch, and often pressing himself
against me whenever a master was particularly rough with
him.
     "I'm getting hard, sir," he whispered to me on at least
five occasions. The thirteen-year-old's frequent erections
drew yet more attention his way, and I made him walk with it
hard and throbbing and waving in front of him.
     We did nothing in particular that afternoon. It was
enough to mingle and begin meeting others in this hidden
world of ours. Masters and slaves alike came in all ages,
shapes and sizes, and some of the most experienced slaves, I
noticed, were quite masterful in their own right, confident
and self-assured. More than a few of them spoke openly to
Alex, asking if he was enjoying himself, to which Alex
invariably replied 'Yes'; asking what hobbies he had, to
which Alex invariably asked 'Other than sex?' which always
resulted in smiles and laughter. Never once though did
another slave touch him.
     I did finally pause to load up a scrumptious plate of
food for myself, which Alex dutifully carried around with
outstretched hands. He ate none of it, nor did he ask. When
I'd finished, we went off together and I found him some
fruit, and a nice piece of grilled chicken. He put his plate
on the ground and gobbled everything down as if I'd not fed
him in days.
     "Slow down, Alex," I laughed. "People will think I'm
starving you."
     "I thought you were going to," he said before tearing
another piece of chicken from the bone with his teeth.
     Alex was just wiping his mouth with the back of his
hand, when our host appeared. It was the first time I'd
encountered him since our first meeting earlier in the day.
He was no longer clad in his refined suit, but now in
leather and black denim. Tall and slender, with a formal air
about him, still a man of cultured tastes. Thomas, the
handsome young door-ward who had welcomed us, was on his
left. The teenager was collared, and he wore a thick leather
belt and harness around his waist, chains ran from it,
ending in a metal clasp that was closed tightly around his
ample cock and balls, another set anchoring the butt-plug no
doubt firmly seated behind. Cuffs adorned his slender
ankles, and his large feet were bare. Still young enough to
be naturally smooth and hairless, the boy's tanned skin
seemed golden in the fading light of late summer's eve.
     Beside Thomas stood a younger boy whom I judged to be
close in age to Alex, fourteen at most. A little taller
perhaps than my own boy, slender but not skinny, young
muscles just beginning to develop in his arms and legs. He
had brownish-blond hair, and his eyes, when he raised them,
were an icy blue. They had a piercing quality that it made
it difficult to return his gaze. He was naked, and his body
quite handsome with a taut flat stomach and a narrow tapered
waist. Smooth limbs lean and wiry. His cock was a pleasing
sight, not overly large, not small either, but long and
thick and cut, with plump balls dangling below. The boy had
pubic hair, light in color and still sparse, but he was
surely the only boy here allowed such an honor.
     It struck me just as Wim was introducing us that this
boy was not a slave, at least not like Alex, or any of the
others we'd met.
     "My son Joshua," our host said, gesturing to the
attractive lad.
     Joshua stepped forward and took my hand with a
confident smile. His grip was sure and sturdy for one so
very young.
     "Good afternoon, sir," he said in a voice caught
somewhere between boy and man. He then rested his eyes on
Alex. "I've heard all about you," he said to him in a
playful tone, smiling for the first time. "Wish I could've
been there to see it. Nearly gave old Barto a heart attack,
didn't you?"
     "I guess so," Alex replied.
     "I'd sure as hell like to take a crack at you
sometime," the boy said with a sly grin.
     The riding crop Wim carried sailed through the air and
landed squarely on Joshua's ass.
     "I won't tell you again about your language, boy," our
host admonished his son. Joshua quickly bowed his head in
submission, but I could see a defiant gleam in his blue
eyes.
     "I apologize for Joshua's behavior, Steven. He has the
makings of a fine master, but at the moment he is quite a
handful. Isn't he, Thomas dear?"
     Thomas nodded without much emotion. I imagined it must
have been quite difficult to take orders from a younger boy.
He and Josh exchanged a barbed glare at one another, and it
was clear that Wim's slave had little use for Wim's son, and
that the opposite was equally true.
     Wim continued, moving his eyes up and down along
Joshua's lean attractive frame. There was not an ounce of
fat on the boy, and his skin was perfect and unblemished.
Joshua's cock was slowly hardening as he feasted his own
young eyes on my Alex. "I believe," Wim said, "that we still
have guests that need tending to. That is your job if I'm
not mistaken."
     Joshua gazed at his father with a certain sincere
contrition in his eyes. "Nice meeting you, sir," he said to
me, then gave Alex a little smile. With exacting, almost
military posture, he turned and walked away, offering me a
tantalizing view of his cute teenaged ass.
     "See that he stays out of trouble, Thomas. I'll whip
the hide off you if he doesn't."
     The sixteen-year-old slave took the threat seriously,
and ran off after his young master-in-training.
     "Together they keep me quite busy," Wim said with a
sigh as he watched them disappear beneath a nearby canopy
filled with mingling masters and subdued slaves.
     "I'll bet they fight like brothers." I winked at my own
flesh and blood and my little brother risked a quiet laugh.
     Wim looked at me and then at Alex, and a sardonic smile
crossed his face.
     "And who wins when the two of you go at it, may I ask?"
came his sharp reply.
     Alex chuckled again.
     "You might be surprised," I said. "There are times when
I wonder who's really the master, and who's really the
slave."
     Our host smiled at me, an expression that told me he
understood and shared those feelings. "That often happens
with the more . . . shall we say . . . aggressive
submissives. They know their place, but they are demanding
nonetheless. Thomas can still wear me out. I'm sure Alex
leaves you breathless much of the time."
     "For all sorts of reasons."
     I held Alex close and he leaned his head against me.
Brothers and lovers, just for instant, and then he was back
standing in wait beside his master.
     "I would very much like to introduce him to the group,"
Wim said. "Would you like that, young man?"
     I gave the boy a silent tap on the wrist to let him
know I expected him to answer. I could actually see the
thrill running through him, the very idea of standing naked
in front of everyone left him trembling.
     "Sir, I would like that very much." And in spite of his
obvious fear, I knew he was not lying.
     "And will you be joining our hunt this evening?"
     The thirteen-year-old's expression told me he really
had no idea what to make of such a question, or which answer
was expected. Out of his depths, Alex looked at me. I was
not about to let the little slave off the hook. I liked him
dangling there at my mercy.
     "Answer the master's question, boy," I said, smacking
his backside.
     Alex turned his attention to Wim once more, and spoke
in a soft, quiet voice, which again reminded me of just how
young he was. "I don't know anything about hunting, sir.
What would I have to do? I mean, I won't have to kill
anything, will I?"
     Wim and I both laughed at the boy's innocent questions,
that is until our host's expression suddenly cooled and that
wicked gleam I'd seen so often from Robert filled his eyes.
"Oh, you won't be one of the hunters, dear boy," he said,
moving forward and gently touching his fingers to Alex'
cheek. "We have a special role for you."
     Always bright and perceptive, Alex needed no further
hints as to his fate. I wasn't sure what to expect of him at
that moment, but he turned to me with brave determination in
his hazel eyes. I put my hands on his shoulders and gazed
down at him. I knew by his expression that it was now his
turn not to let me off the hook. He was not going to
volunteer. He was going to force me to make him do it.
     Our eyes locked for what seemed the longest time. All
the complexity of our relationship was laid bare for us in
that moment. All the love, all the pleasure, all the
compassion, all the hate, all the pain, all the
indifference. And in the end, Alex was my slave. That was
all that really mattered anymore.
     "You will do it," I said coldly.
     "I will do it," he replied the same.
     "Then come with me," Wim said. "We had best get you
ready. Have you eaten?" His question was directed at Alex.
     "Yes, sir."
     "Not much I hope."
     Alex actually glared at me. It was playful, but a glare
nonetheless. "No, sir. My master has not fed me much today."
     "Just as it should be, little colt."
     Wim lead us back to the large pavilion where we had
first met his acquaintance. A quintet of naked slaves was
busily erecting a low stage for the evening's festivities,
and tomorrow's auction. I realized these five young men were
the same ones I saw chained to the walls of the carriage
house. They were collared and shackled in iron, and each
wore a particularly nasty chastity belt around their waists.
Our new friend Bartholomew was supervising them under his
skillful whip.
     Alex stared at the scene in quiet wonder, and again I
could see the wheels turning in his head.
     "My animals," Wim said nonchalantly.
     They were impressive specimens. Two were just
teenagers. Three were young men in their early twenties. All
were lean and wiry and all were utterly hairless, even their
heads had been clean-shaven. Iron bits were in their mouths,
held in place by leather harnesses. The only sounds they
made were the grunts and groans of straining muscles, and
the occasional cry of protest when Bartholomew laid into
them for not working up to his exacting standards.
     Alex' hand found mine and he tapped gently to get my
attention.
     "I'm getting an erection, sir," he whispered.
     Wim noticed the boy's excited state instantly. "So, you
like what you're seeing do you? Perhaps next summer, once
you've put on a bit more muscle, your master will let you
spend a month in my stables. You'd be treated just as they
are. Worked all day, tortured all night, and we'd train that
cock of yours to stay soft. You'd like that wouldn't you,
boy?"
     Alex didn't dare to answer, but his throbbing cock made
his feelings abundantly clear.
     Our host eyed me with deep sincerity. "I would pay
handsomely for the boy's services, Steven. For as long or as
short a term as you wish."
     Sell my boy to another? Even if just temporarily. The
thought had never occurred to me until that moment, but the
idea of my sweet young Alex toiling like an animal for
another master had just planted itself irrevocably into my
head. Alex and I shared a knowing glance, and we both knew
it was going to be inevitable.
     "He'll get a small taste of it tonight," Wim went on as
he gestured me to a wooden chair. Alex remained standing.
     Bartholomew left his boys to their labors and
approached us with his warm and friendly smile. I noticed
Alex stood up a little taller and straighter in his
presence.
     "Back on your feet already, Alex?" the old man asked
with a wink. "I must be getting soft in my old age. You on
the other hand . . ." he reached out and playfully stroked
the boy's cock.
     "Don't encourage him, Master Bartholomew," I said.
"Alex has to learn to control himself."
     Bartholomew's eyes lit up and he put a hand firmly
under the boy's chin. "Are you going to be punished for
being hard in front of me?"
     "Yes, sir," Alex answered. "And for being hard in front
of just about everyone else."
     Alex said it in all seriousness, but it was of course
funny and we all three shared a much-needed laugh. That's
the magic of my Alex. Even in our darkest moments, when our
respective roles seem like they are about to consume us, he
brings light and joy, without even trying. He is special.
     "Alex has agreed to be our guest of honor this
evening," Wim explained, patting the kid on the shoulder.
     "Has he now?" Bartholomew asked, studying the boy with
his dark gentle eyes. "You're in for quite a time, young
man. Ever been hunting before?"
     "No, sir."
     "Well, it doesn't really matter. You'll mostly be
running. You are a fast runner, aren't you?"
     "I think so, sir," Alex said, adding a quiet "I hope
so," under his breath.
     "Are you plugged?"
     "Yes, sir."
     "And have you ever run with a plug inside you?"
     Alex nodded. "Master makes me run at home, sir. I like
the feeling, sir."
     Bartholomew tried his best not to smile, but the boy's
charm has that inevitable effect on just about everyone.
"Well then let's see how well you do."
     Alex looked to me for guidance.
     "Master Bartholomew's in charge of you for the rest of
the day. Obey him." I turned to the seasoned master. "Do
whatever you want with him."
     Wim later told me he could actually see Alex stagger
under that simple, calculated blow. The boy was stunned, and
his mouth dropped open. I'd given him over to Robert's care
once before, but only briefly. This was a man he hardly
knew, and genuinely feared. It did not occur to me then,
that even as I stood there, I was once again abandoning him.
     Bartholomew took Alexander's leash and pulled him
close, staring down into the boy's frightened eyes. "Would
you like to finish what we started?"
     Alex trembled. "No, sir."
     A tender pat on the head. "One day you'll ask for it.
Now, show me how fast you can run. Up to the stage and
back."
     The boy took off as fast as his strong young legs could
carry him. There and back in no time.
     "Did I tell you to stop?" Bartholomew asked when Alex
was standing in front of him again.
     "No, sir, you didn't." And he quickly starting running
again.
     Back and forth. Back and forth. And all the while the
slaves busily erected the stage, not once pausing from their
labors to watch the naked boy running to and fro.
Bartholomew kept the boy occupied that way for a good twenty
minutes, often leaving him to whip one of the "animals" into
shape. Wim and I sat back and enjoyed a leisurely
conversation.
     I learned that Joshua was his adopted son, and that
Robert had played some role in the affair, on which Wim
would not elaborate. Nonetheless I was left with the
impression that the boy had been given away by his parents,
or perhaps sold. Wim was reluctant to discuss it further,
but he did speak of the boy with a certain pride.
     "Josh still fights me sometimes," he said, "but he's
mostly a good boy. He shouldn't have spoken to Alex that way
though."
     "Alex seemed rather flattered."
     Wim laughed. "Of course he did. Your boy is a natural
flirt, Steven. Nevertheless, Joshua is too young to address
another man's slave in such a crude manner. He will be
severely punished, rest assured."
     That of course, was something I would have dearly loved
to see.

     I left the pavilion for a while after Wim excused
himself. Alex saw me go and almost ran after me. He stopped
himself with some effort, and my last vision was of him
standing before Bartholomew with his hands behind his head
listening as the man firmly gave him his latest
instructions. Things had grown quiet and few people were
about as I walked alone amongst the gardens. It was early
evening now, and most of the guests had retired to their
rooms in preparation for the night's festivities. I made my
way up to the main house, where Thomas and Joshua greeted
me. They were both still quite naked and clearly
disappointed that Alex was not in my company.
     "Dr. Collins is giving a demonstration in the drawing
room, sir," Joshua said with knowing eyes.
     Drawing room. A word not normally found in a fourteen-
year-old's vocabulary, but then I'm sure there were many
words young Joshua knew that others his age had never
dreamed of using. Of course I remembered Robert mentioning
that the good doctor would likely demonstrate his arts
today, and I quickly had Thomas show me in.
     Immediately I felt as if I had entered some bizarre
science fiction film. Surrounded by the dark paneling and
exquisite antiques of a by-gone age, there was, in the very
center of the room, a metal-framed examination chair padded
in leather and lit by four harsh overhead spotlights on all
sides. I recognized its diminutive occupant immediately.
     Young Sebastian was strapped down tightly, his arms at
his side, his legs spread wide. The boy's head was
immobilized by a cruel harness, and he was gagged, muzzled
to be precise. The bright light against his pale skin made
him appear to be glowing. His slender young body already had
a sheen of sweat from the lamps, which glistened as his
master began the lecture. Samuel Collins was in his white
lab coat, every bit as formidable on him as black leather
would be on another.
     There was not an empty seat to be had, so I accepted
standing room at the rear, which still afforded me an
excellent view.
     "Gentlemen," Collins began, "You are all no doubt aware
that the area of skin between the anus and the base of the
scrotum is highly erogenous, especially in the young." He
then moved his right hand between Sebastian's legs and ran a
single finger gently along the area in question. Sebastian
jerked helplessly in his bonds and let out a high-pitched
squeal. "As you will notice as I continue, the subject is
becoming aroused."
     The eleven-year-old's penis was swelling in a futile
attempt to erect itself, permanently held down against his
balls by the chastity ring. Seb wiggled and moaned as the
pleasure washed over him.
     "Were it not for the ring," the doctor continued, "the
subject would be fully erect at this moment."
     The audience hummed and nodded their agreement.
     "Today you will witness a perineal piercing." He then
held up a thick stainless steel ring, nearly two inches in
diameter. "As you can see the ring is quite large. Once in
place, it will provide an excellent point for restraining
the subject. Its conductive properties will also allow for .
. . stimulation . . . of certain regions of the body."
     Murmurs and wicked laughter filled the room.
     "Further its diameter will help ensure a proper
standing posture. The subject will be unable to close his
legs henceforth."
     Laying the ring aside, Sam rolled a tray of supplies
near the chair and picked up a long and rather intimidating
needle.
     "As you know, the subject is normally not anesthetized
for piercings, but this is an extremely delicate and painful
procedure, and I do not want him moving any more than is
necessary. Thus a local anesthetic will be used."
     Without further explanation, the doctor inserted the
needle into the boy's abdomen. Sebastian offered no
reaction. I imagined he was quite accustomed to being poked
and prodded after all these years. Several minutes were
allowed to pass before Sam selected a small clamp and a much
larger and thicker needle from his collection.
     The clamp was placed, eliciting a soft cry from the
young patient.
     "As you can see, the subject does still have some
sensation."
     The piercing needle came next. Sebastian gasped sharply
but made no further sounds. His master applied thick soft
gauze to stem what bleeding there was. Then he carefully
inserted the ring and locked the clasp. A soldering iron
came next, making the boy's latest modification permanent.
We were all invited to step forward and take a closer look.
     Sebastian lay there motionless, wiggling just his
fingers and his toes, his green eyes gazing off into an
unseen distance. Samuel gently turned the new ring, and
applied a disinfecting cream between the boy's legs. A
question was asked about infections in such a sensitive
area.
     "Regular antiseptic cleanings and no restrictive
clothing for two weeks until it has fully healed. Then
normal hygiene will suffice."
     Everyone had their turn to inspect the boy close up. I
noticed no one touched his cock or his balls. Young Seb was
well known here, naturally, and no hand but that of his
master ever dared touch him there.
     "Your thoughts, Steven?" he inquired as the others
began to talk amongst themselves.
     "I'm a bit speechless."
     "Modification is not for everyone. I understand
completely."
     "Sebastian seems to be in heaven though," I observed,
for it was certainly true. The look in his eyes was
priceless.
     "I'd been promising him something special for quite a
while, something no other boy has."
     "It's certainly unique."
     The boy's eyes smiled at me, and he promptly fell
asleep.

     I returned to the pavilion to find my Alex hard at work
with the other slaves putting the finishing touches on the
stage. The boy was sweaty and quite dirty. He paused and
looked at me expectantly when he saw me enter.
     "Keep working, Lexi," I said as I walked by.
     Bartholomew greeted me with a casual smile. "Alex is a
good little worker," he said, holding up a riding crop.
"I've only had to use this on him twice. And once I confess
was just for fun."
     "As long as he's been behaving himself."
     "He most certainly has. And we're just about ready.
Alex, over here please. Now."
     Alex immediately and literally dropped what he was
doing and trotted over to us, the leash dangling from his
collar, his young cock flopping between his legs.
     "Any erections while I was gone?" I asked him, running
my hands over his stomach.
     "No, sir," he said without a smile. "I was a good boy."
     I kissed him on the forehead, and for just an instant
he moved as if he were about to hug me, but he stopped
himself and stood as straight and tall as his five-foot
frame would allow.
     "There's really nothing more to be done for now,"
Bartholomew told us as the first guests began to filter in
to the pavilion, filling the seats nearest the stage.
"Please remove Alexander's leash."
     I did as instructed, getting a good whiff of my smelly
boy as I unclasped the chain from his collar. I rolled it up
and put it in my pocket for later.
     "A place has been reserved for you, Steven,"
Bartholomew said, pointing to a front row chair by the
aisle. "The boy will stand."
     And stand Alex did, for nearly an hour while the
gathering slowly came together. I had to remind him to stay
in position with an occasional slap on the behind. His head
was bowed, always a sign that he was tired, or nervous, or
uncomfortable, and I'm sure this time it was a combination
of all three.
     "Keep your eyes forward, boy," I said, slapping his ass
again.
     He made a half-hearted effort to comply then turned his
head just a bit to look at me. It was becoming too much for
him. I could see it in his eyes.
     "It's alright," I whispered. "You can put your head
down if you need to. I know it's hard to have everyone
looking at you."
     "Thanks, Steve," he whispered back and quickly focused
his eyes on the ground again.
     I rubbed the backs of his thighs, smooth and silken. He
sighed contentedly.
     "That feels nice."
     "Keep your voice down, Alex."
     "Sorry."
     "It's ok," I said softly. "We can talk, but we
shouldn't let the others hear us."
     "Gotcha. What should we talk about?"
     "You, silly. Are you doing ok?"
     There was a pause before he answered. "I guess."
     "Still scared?"
     "Uh-huh. This isn't like when it's just us at home . .
. or even when we're with Master Robert. There's so many
people here. It's hard."
     "I know. You're doing great though. Everyone loves
you."
     He wiggled his hips a bit to make his cock and balls
flap around. Then he snickered under his breath. "Lots of me
to love!"
     "You little slut."
     "You big pervert."
     I put my arm around his waist and pulled him close for
moment. He was back in position before anyone even noticed.
     "It's harder than I thought," he whispered. "Being
naked in front of everybody. I don't like it when they touch
me."
     "Your dick seems to."
     Alex didn't have an answer for that and we spent the
next few minutes in silence, until Wim took the stage to
kick off the night's festivities. As he welcomed us, I saw
Samuel and Robert come in, with Sebastian and Michael
trailing close behind. Mike looked very tired and rather
worse for wear. It seemed as if Robert had been going rather
rough with him these last few hours. Sebastian, wearing just
a long black T-shirt, walked awkwardly behind his master. He
was grimacing with each step, still growing accustomed to
the new jewelry between his legs.
     After a few brief words, Wim turned his attention to
me. "We do have some newcomers with us this evening, friends
of Master Robert's. I'm sure most of you have already met
them, but it is only appropriate they be formally
introduced. Master Steven, would you and Alex join me
please."
     I got up and patted Alex on the butt. He fell in step
behind me. I could hear the light padding of his bare feet
as we made our way to the stage. Once there I grasped his
wrist and pulled him in front of me. The slender thirteen-
year-old shuffled nervously toward our host.
     "Turn and face everyone, boy," Wim said in a low voice.
     Without hesitation, Alex obeyed.
     "Alex, stand," I ordered.
     He spread his trembling legs and clasped his hands
behind his head. I could see his chest rising and falling in
quick breaths.
     "A fine young slave, wouldn't you all agree?" Wim
asked, stirring murmurs of approval from the others. "Turn
round, boy, let them see all of you."
     Alex turned to the left in a slow circle, and gentle
tap on the thigh from Wim's crop was his command to stop.
     "May I ask your boy some questions, master?" Wim
inquired of me.
     "Certainly."
     "How old are you, Alex?"
     "I'm thirteen, sir," my sweet boy said in a small,
private voice.
     This time it was my hand on his thigh, hard and swift.
"Speak up, Alex. No one can hear you."
     "I'm thirteen, sir," he said over the crowd, his voice
breaking just slightly.
     "And how long have you been a slave?"
     "Two months, sir," the boy replied sharply.
     "Are you a good boy?"
     "Most of the time, sir."
     Wim and I shared a smile.
     "Do you ejaculate?"
     "Only if I have my master's permission, sir."
     Wim moved close to the boy's ear and ran his hand down
Alex' back. "Only then?" he asked with ice in his voice.
     Alex shivered. "Well . . . I mean . . . no, sir.
Sometimes I'm bad."
     "And you make yourself cum?"
     "Yes, sir."
     "You're getting hard, boy."
     He was.
     "Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir."
     "And are you allowed to have erections like that?"
     "No, sir."
     "What happens to you when you do?"
     "I get punished, sir."
     Alex was shaking like a leaf, but his raging hard-on
was already leaking.
     "And who punishes you?"
     "My master, sir."
     "How?" Wim continued the inquisition.
     "He spanks me, sir."
     "I see," was Wim's cold reply.
     A chair was then brought onto the stage by young
Joshua. The boy wore a tight latex jock, which did nothing
to hide his own erection. That and his studded collar were
the only items upon his lean and hairless body. Wim gave his
son a gentle kiss on the lips before ushering the boy away.
He then bore his eyes into Alexander.
     "Do you deserve a spanking right now?"
     Alex was savvy enough to know the answer to that one.
"Yes, sir."
     I sat down and called him over to me. A public
spanking. Alex' face was already red, his eyes already moist
when I put him over my knees.
     "Count out loud, Lexi, so everyone hears you."
     "Yes, master."
     My hand sufficed for the first fifty. Then Joshua
returned with a paddle in his hands and a wicked grin on his
face. I picked up the wooden enforcer, noticing the holes
drilled in its surface and the name "Joshie" burned onto the
handle. By its well-worn appearance, I could tell it was
quite well acquainted with the fourteen-year-old's cute
bottom.
     Alex stopped counting and started screaming after
twenty or so blows. I continued until his rear end was a
nice shade of purple and the first dark bruises began to
appear.
     "Stand up."
     With some effort he did so. Worse for him, he would
later tell me, was having to turn and face everyone with
tears running down his cheeks. His erection was gone.
     "Thank you, master, for spanking me," he said quietly.
     "Anytime, Lexi."

     Bartholomew joined us on stage, and I knew the time had
come. There was a certain electricity in the air. Everyone
could feel it, especially Alex, who still did not know
exactly what was in store for him. Come to think of it,
neither did I. Wim raised his hands for silence.
     "Alex here has graciously . . . volunteered . . . to be
our most special guest this evening. Would those of you who
drew the winning numbers please come forward."
     Ten masters left their seats and their slaves and took
the stage. Alex and I had met a few of them during the day,
but they were all still mostly unfamiliar. I felt Alex
shrink and saw him shudder, and he suddenly seemed like a
little boy again, standing there naked surrounded by grown
men, masters all.
     "If you would be so kind as to remove the boy's plug,
master," Bartholomew said to me.
     I bent Alex over, holding him down with a hand upon his
back, and pulled the metal plug out of him without ceremony.
They boy shrieked and danced on his bare feet. Bartholomew
then presented me with another plug, quite large to ensure
that it would not fall out when the boy was running. It
ended with a long tail of red fur. Fox. How fitting.
     "This is going to hurt going in, honey," I told him.
"And even more coming out."
     "I'm ready, master." And he relaxed and opened himself
for me as best he could.
     With some effort and more than a few tears on the boy's
part, I managed to get it seated inside him. The fox tail
hung between his smooth hairless legs. Alex looked
positively adorable with it sticking out of his ass.
     Wim gestured to me silently and I took his meaning
clearly.
     "On your knees, Alex," I said.
     The boy knelt before us all, his head bowed. Was it out
of fear? Out of shame? Was he simply into his role as was so
often the case? There was no time to consider his thoughts.
Joshua appeared again, with Thomas beside him, and four
large black hounds on chain leashes.
     I suppose I never mentioned that Alex is terrified of
dogs. But he is. Always has been. Had I known they were a
part of the plan, I honestly never would have agreed to let
them do this to him.
     "Listen carefully, Alex," the voice of Bartholomew was
soft and friendly, as it always seemed to be just before he
engaged in unspeakable cruelty. "Look at me when I'm talking
to you, boy."
     Alex raised his head. It was the first time Bartholomew
had called him by anything other than his name. "You are
going to be hunted, just like a dirty little animal. You
will not be bound. You will have your arms and legs, your
hands and feet. And of course your head. Use it. Your only
job is to find your way back here, to your master."
     My boy's eyes widened in panic.
     "If you get to him, before one of us gets to you, you
win. If one of us catches you first, you lose. Those are the
only two things that will end the hunt. Do you understand?"
     "Yes, sir."
     Large nets were brought out, and thick ropes, and each
master was also given an electric prod.
     "If another master catches you, you become his property
for the rest of the evening. Of course he will not be
permitted to inflict any permanent damage, but he may do as
he pleases with you, and you will obey and serve him."
     Alex nodded that he understood.
     "Bring the dogs."
     Joshua and Thomas led the dogs forward, and brought
them to a stop growling in front of Alex. The canines moved
in close and sniffed the boy, nearly knocking him over. They
were huge, fully-grown animals, and just one of them alone
would be enough to overpower a thirteen-year-old boy.
     Everyone did take momentary pause at the genuine terror
in the boy's eyes. Bartholomew knelt down and ran his
fingers through Alex' hair.
     "Afraid of dogs?"
     Alex nodded, unable to stop shaking.
     "All the more reason to run fast. They are trained not
to bite. But they are trained to chase, and they will get
their paws into you if they catch you. There are woods
behind the pavilion. You might be able to hide from us
there, for a while. Thomas and Joshua will hold their
leashes for sixty seconds. Once they're unleashed, we all
follow. They've got your scent now. I'd start running if I
were you."
     Bartholomew handed me his prod. I knew what was
expected. The look Alex gave me chilled my heart. I pressed
the prod into his thigh and heard the crackle of
electricity. The boy yelped.
     "Run, Alex."
     He scrambled to his feet, jumped off the stage and ran
out of the pavilion, turning right and then making a sharp
left, redirecting himself toward the woods. And like that he
was gone. Sixty seconds later, so were the hounds.

     To this day Alex never talks about the hunt.
     I stood outside the pavilion waiting for him, part of
me hoping he would return safely to my arms, another part
highly aroused at the prospects of what would happen if he
didn't. I could see them in the woods, see the lights from
their flashlights, and hear their taunting calls. Once or
twice I heard one of the hounds growl or bark. And I did
catch a glimpse of Alex once, right at the edge of the tree-
line where the floodlights from the gardens washed the woods
in a soft artificial daylight. He was crouching there
against a tree, shaking and exhausted and less than twenty-
five yards away. Our eyes met for just an instant, and I
called to him. I couldn't help myself.
     Alex drew himself awkwardly to his feet. I smiled at
him. He'd made it. Just one more short sprint across the
grass and it would be over. The boy stared at me in silence
for what seemed an eternity. And then he did something I
never could have imagined he'd do. Something he has never
explained to me, ever. He turned his back on me, and ran
back into the woods.
     Forty-five minutes later, it was indeed over. A master
I had not yet met returned, dragging Alex roughly behind
him. My boy's hands were tied tightly and painfully behind
his back, and a long rope had been looped around his neck to
serve as a leash. The boy's body was covered in cuts and
scratches from his time spent naked in the woods, and he
walked gingerly on bare feet that were sore and bruised from
tripping over rocks and roots in the dark. He stared at me
for a moment, then just as quickly turned his hazel eyes
away.
     "Congratulations, Master Vincent," Wim said as the man
came to stop before us, pulling Alex close to him. Joshua
and Thomas we sent running to retrieve the dogs and let the
other master's know the hunt was over. Alex had lost. And
some small part of me, one I did not want to acknowledge,
knew he'd done it on purpose.