Date: Sun, 23 Oct 2011 22:54:08 -0700
From: MACK Wayne <mackxwayne@hotmail.com>
Subject: slaveMaster Tempter - Postscript
Disclaimer: All rights reserved. No part of the story can be
reproduced in any form without the express permission of the author, MACK
Wayne.
slaveMaster Tempter
Postscript -
Jake was lead out of that room and loaded into the trunk of Bob's
Maybach. He left existence as he'd known it behind, and entered his new
life as slave - naked and without a single encumbrance - not a stitch of
clothing - a toothbrush - nothing - and he arrived at his new home
appropriately, as so much cargo in the trunk of his Master's car.
Max's men had been instructed to bring back something from Jake's
house. It was a simple small bronze horse from off his desk. Something he
was fond enough of to keep where he would see it every day. Max presented
it as a gift from the boy's past to his new owner. It would sit now as
Bob's property on his mantle where Jake would see it often. It would serve
to graphically keep him mindful of what was - of what used to be before his
fatal temptation - before he so stupidly facilitated Max's acquisition of
him and made possible his sale to his Master.
Bob was a true sadist. He was as sadistic as his cock was huge.
All of his help was chosen for their sympathetic acceptances of his
orientation and activities - but this was Bill's first in house full time
slave. He'd thought a lot about it but only recently decided to act on his
desire and purchase a victim to suffer and serve as owned property. He'd
had a dungeon built in his basement with cells and all manner of useful
gear and equipment available for his every need and pleasure. He'd been
interviewing for a keeper but hadn't locked in on one by the time he
purchased Jake. Max's call happened suddenly and was somewhat of a
surprise - coming more quickly than Bob imagined it would. One thing Max
always required from potential clients was to be given time to find what
would be right for them. It had only been a couple of weeks since Bob had
enlisted Max's services for locating "Mr. Right," as it was being called,
but opportunity was knocking, and as his purchase even before driving it
demonstrated, the feeling Bob had of it being - as Max had said - "Perfect
for him," was inescapable.
With Max's help, Bob did find a satisfactorily sadistic full time
slave driver for his new property. His sole responsibility was the keeping
and training of what Bob told him could be the beginning of a small stable
of slaves. Interestingly and appropriately Germanic in ethnicity - like
Max's Dieter - Heinrich transported the slave on the company jet back and
forth from Bob's home on Long Island to his very private, large, ranch in
Arizona, (with its own landing strip) where Jake's carpentry talent was
indeed put to good use. Naked and under his keeper Heinrich's watchful
eye, he worked on the house & corrals, built fences, split and carted wood
for all the fireplaces, and did all manner of other laborious tasks. He
was kept busy to say the least, doing everything from sucking guests cocks
and being raped by Bob's giant ripper to serving libation on the veranda
evenings.
The only clothing he ever again wore were (sometimes) sox and
boots, and different chastity devices. His uncommon masculine beauty was
something always available to the eye. Bob had a small core of associates
all too happy to be included for weekends at the ranch or on the Island
particularly with the service and entertainment of the naked suffering
victim their friend now owned. One of them even decided to contact Max for
the purchase of one of his own. And that "younger," less costly one, Bob
had alluded to became reality - the second occupant of the stable.
Bob wanted to build one of his own so he selected something barely
having become pubescent to begin the process. It was a beautiful youngster
who would surely have entered naturally acquired manhood as a stunning
specimen becoming as beautiful a man. Bob preempted that natural process
right away by having it neutered. He wanted control over that progression
himself - artificially. The boy slave would have its Master to thank for
its growing look of masculinity and becoming what had the appearance of a
man. Bob's provision of hormones he'd insured, could no longer be
naturally produced, would be what would eventuate a hyper masculine
appearance as an end product. The slave's only purpose was becoming that
for which it would be forced to worship and thank its Master, when it saw
its Master's creation in the mirror. It would be worked out, and fed, and
rested, and preened, exclusively toward that end. Max was in awe of the
concept, and reveled in having found and provided the raw material for
Bob's undertaking. He looked forward to watching and sharing in the
process with his friend and client over the next ten years or so. It would
prove to be a phenomenal accomplishment.
What had been a boy - now a gelding - grew more and more muscular
by the year. The appearance of puberty was thwarted by permanent removal
of any body-hair, as it would evidence itself. Eyebrows and eyelashes
alone were permitted. Its look became that of a smooth statue - its
eyebrows and eyelashes looking more and more exotic - almost out of place -
as if growing on a marble sculpture. The cock was very insignificantly
sized, but that was fine with Bob - even preferential. As the slave began
to mature, Bob decided at the mention of as friend that his creation might
look better without it. He was right. It did distract, standing small and
alone, from the overall appearance of the increasingly beautiful piece.
Dissatisfied by it and not wanting it to offend or detract, Bob had it
removed for appearance sake. Without any genetalia it was also more
acceptable to mixed company. It WAS a thing of rare and increasing beauty
which Bob was extremely satisfied with himself for creating - as if a proud
sculptor and his work of fine art in progress.
Max's successful temptation of Jake was the reason for his
consequential fate. The "real slave," Max said he had caged at home, he had
wanted so badly to go with Max to see. He heard moaning and waddled -
accommodating the monster plug - to the cell door to confirm he was not
alone. He looked in the direction of the noise. What he saw he realized,
from the look of it, was the slave he'd been tempted to come and sample.
It was hard to appreciate under the circumstances, seeing it from behind
his cell bars, with the pain of the giant plug holding an immense load of a
strangers cum in his ravaged raw "pussy," (as it was being referred to,)
but it was as beautiful, from what he could tell, as had been described.
He stood transfixed, watching the hot masculine straight boy. It
was restrained to something table height by its wrists and ankles, and
behind its knees, and there were long phalluses secured in its mouth and
ass on which it was alternately and repeatedly impaling itself. It had
been told if it stopped, its dick would be cut off. Jake witnessed it, but
from behind the confinement of his cell bars, was as close to it as he
would get. He would never get to use, or even touch it, as had been so
deceitfully warranted.
It had indeed been captured just days before Jake, and exactly as
had been described. Max and Dieter took a scavenging/ hunting trip
expressly for collecting something, and the beautiful straight boy fucking
itself, was the resultant item. They spotted him while trolling a back
road in New Jersey - shirt appropriately shed, on the nice warm day. From
behind and from a distance it looked good - T shirt stuck in its back
pocket and an obvious dimpled muscular back accentuated by the shadows
being created with the sun high overhead. It heard the van, and as it
turned around to display a thumb for a ride, the front side reaffirmed what
could not have been a more perfect looking specimen. The gods were
definitely smiling.
Dieter did most of the driving and was behind the wheel. Max gave
him the familiar and expected signal, and crawled - so as to be unseen -
into the back. They pulled past the handsome young man a ways to give
Dieter a moment for a quick, scan in the mirrors and around, to spot any
slow moving vehicles or the unlikely timed cop. He rolled down the window
and waited for their mark to catch up to the van. The boy ran to the
window just slightly out of breath from his sprint not wanting to miss a
potential ride, and peered in at the big man he saw behind the wheel,
"Where u headed," (as if it mattered) was Dieter's overly friendly
question, to deflect anything suspect, and set an unthreatening mood.
"To see my girlfriend in Teaneck."
"I'm getting on 80 for a bit headed in that direction. Hop in,"
was the invitation (as spider to fly,) "I can take u at least part of the
way."
"Thanks man. Nice van. Wrecked my car last week," was the
chatter, climbing into his date with destiny, "Had too much to drink," he
said, unknowingly pulling the irreversible self locking door closed behind
him the automatic window rolling up. Once in, there was no way out. Not
even the reinforced window would operate until the driver hit the hidden
switch to reset the door to normal operation.
"Gotta watch that," Dieter said, pulling away, "That can be as
dangerous - " he said reaching under his seat with this left hand for his
well placed, and purposefully holstered 45 automatic with a silencer, " -
as getting in a big van with strangers." By the time he was finished his
statement, the gun was aimed at the boy from Dieter's left side so the boy
couldn't reach it.
"SHIT MAN!" He hollered, as he pulled on the useless door handle
intending a quick exit even though they were moving. The useless handle
did nothing but lever with no effect - window the same. He backed up
against the door getting as far from the gun as he could instinctively but
pointlessly raising his hands in front of him, "I DON'T WANT ANY TROUBLE
MAN! PLEASE!"
Calmly, Dieter said as Max came up behind their newly acquired
passenger, "No trouble - just don't move."
"Ok man! What ever you say!" was the nervous reply.
Startling the boy, Max put his arm around him to hold him steady
while hitting him in the back of the neck with an eighty thousand volt stun
gun holding it in place, creating more effective removal of control, and
more complete disorientation. As the boy collapsed, Max pulled and guided
his shaking body into the back of the van. Once he had him back there he
held it against him again for the added time needed to secure the beauty,
spread eagle to the flush pull-up attachment rings in the floor.
The gun probably wouldn't have been necessary, but Dieter loved the
idea of aiming his automatic at a mark. The victim's reaction always gave
him an instant hard-on.
Successfully restrained, Max hopped back up into the passenger
seat. The secured beauty regained control in the next few minutes over his
scrambled nervous system, tugged at his restraints, raised his head, looked
up at the men sitting in the front, spouted his indignant questions, and
made his futile demands, "What the fuck man? What's this about? Release
me! Let me go!"
Coming out from under a good stun gun scrambling, it takes the
brain a few seconds to catch up, or he would be remembering the gun aimed
at him and not be expressing such indignant arrogance. But Max had found
this kind of reaction not to be a totally uncommon occurrence. The more
spirited the catch the more audacious the first few minutes of attempted
complaint even in the face of being physically disabled. After all, none
of their "Guests," had ever experienced or even thought of being so
completely disrespected, and taken utterly against their will - not to
mention being stun-gunned into temporary oblivion. They had "rights,"
after all - they presumed from their life experience up until now.
A few minutes of belligerence allowed, Max hopped back with the
complainant and did what he enjoyed so much - getting their victim's
attention. He took a pair of sharp shears out of the pocket behind his
seat and knelt at the feet of the pretty boy's outstretched legs. Starting
with bottom of the jeans pant leg, he inserted the scissors and clamped
down, cutting through the heavily stitched bottom hem and right up the
front of the leg fabric to the belt.
"Hey man," the stretched out boy, said, "please don't do that." The
tone was changing but there was still (though now more polite) an attempt
to direct. Max switched to a pair of lock cutters and in an instant cut
right through the boys leather belt and the top of the jeans all at the
same time, and laid the fabric apart exposing the beautiful hairy leg,
"Please man. What are you doing? Please don't," - a little better more
entreating approach, but still that attempted directive - "don't."
Without a word, Max did the same thing to the right pant leg - up
to the top - lock cutters through the belt line - laid the fabric apart and
the second beautiful leg was in plain view. He stroked the muscular hairy
surface, affirming in his mind what a good decision had been made in
picking this one up, "Please man - please?" Ah - there was, the adjustment.
Pleading without the directive. Apology would come next and fairly soon.
Max took the boy's intact crotch-covering area of the pants in his hand -
the still buckled belt, and still buttoned and zippered fabric - the part
of the pants that usually kept the privates from exposure to the general
public - maintained a man's modesty. It was still in place - only now the
whole assembly was just lying there. Max freely lifted it - pulled it down
and tucked it between the outstretched legs.
"Please Mister. Please Sir. I'm sorry for what I said before."
There it was - that complete attitude adjustment and consequential apology
Max knew with assurance would come quickly. He'd had enough experience
collecting, that he could predict what would come next and when.
"Lift up!" were his first words to their, becoming aligned,
frightened, passenger. Max tugged on what he had made free of any
attachment to its wearer, and without hesitation the boy lifted his weight
off the now pointless fabric, as Max pulled what had been the boy's pants
from under the truly beautiful form. His attire was reduced to briefs,
sox, and athletic shoes. Shoes and sox were easily and quickly removed,
and the soles of the boy's feet tickled causing him to squirm and laugh.
Then came the nitty gritty. And it came - to the boy's surprise -
in the form of a question. Almost as if respecting their "guest's"
remaining modesty, Max posed his inquiry to the creature laying completely
helpless and defenseless at his mercy, "You think I might have a look at
what's covered up here?" he asked almost timidly - shyly. After silently,
without a word, cutting the boy's pants off - turning them into just so
much useless denim, he was asking permission to take a look at what was
still being modestly covered by the intact clean white briefs clinging so
beautifully to what could be made out, but none-the-less was covering its
nakedness.
The boy was stunned - didn't know what to say. He didn't want this
man to partake of his privacy. He was helpless to prevent it should the
man choose, but he WAS being asked, "Please Mister?"
"Yeah boy?"
"Please could I leave my underwear on?"
"I'm disappointed you wouldn't invite me to take a look. I asked
nicely. I won't invade your privacy without being asked to do so. I
really would like to have a look. Lets give you a little while to see if
you change your mind." Max took out two nasty alligator clamps - put one on
each of the boy's tender nipples and hopped back up front to the moans and
groans he'd left behind.
Before long the boy's tune had changed, "I'm sorry man. Please
take a look at my cock and balls." He let him groan on for a while
repeating himself. The clamps bit cruelly into the sensitive flesh - two
little clips causing such distracting pain - it was almost dichotomous.
But they were doing just that, and the boy was helpless to stop it as he
began to beg, "Please Mister? I'm sorry! Please do what you wanted and
have a look. I've changed my mind. I want you to have a look!"
Max ignored and just talked with Dieter as the delightful noise
continued from on the floor in the back, "PLEASE SIR? PLEASE MISTER! MY
TITS HURT SO MUCH! PLEASE LOOK!" Max climbed back - knelt along side of
the pleading beauty - crossed his arms on his chest and just looked down at
him.
"I don't know - you sure that's what you want?"
"YES PLEASE!"
"Ok to cut them off?"
"OK MISTER!"
"Not please cut them off Sir?"
"IM SORRY. YES. PLEASE CUT THEM OFF SIR!"
Max picked up his scissors, gathered the fabric on the left side of
the crotch and cut simply from leg bottom up through the elastic waistband
- and the same on the right. As Max tugged ever so lightly and the boy
felt the fabric being pulled from under his naked form he knew what to do
from earlier and this time, even without needing to be told, instantly
raised his weight cooperatively off the pointless fabric of the briefs, and
Max pulled it from under him - nothing left - the pretty boy seen on the
side of the road looking so appealing was completely exposed and utterly
without defense - and as beautiful as he was defenseless.
"There we go," Max said, "Ok to touch them?"
Lesson learned - no matter his humiliation, or wish not to be
handled by this man, he offered the only words he knew were acceptable,
"YES SIR! PLEASE TOUCH THEM SIR!"
Ever had a man play with your cock and balls?"
"NO SIR!" Max enjoyed the pendulous, sizeable, balls and
considerable cock, leaving the alligator clips right where they were - the
victim believing they would be removed as a reward for changing his mind
and inviting the stranger in control to play with his manhood. Genitals
matched the rest of the perfect package of macho muscles and hair and
moustache and eyes - everything was as good as it gets, he thought, as he
freely fondled, and enjoyed listening to his new property.
Max took three more alligator clips from his pocket and casually
applied them to the boys cock - one on either side of the foreskin and one
half inside and half outside the piss slit. As the boy hollered, he picked
up a filthy heavily cum and piss stained jock worn for weeks by several
different slaves - a kind of souvenir, "I'd like to put this in your mouth?
Its never been washed - worm by a few different sweaty guys a lot like you
- pissed in - and lots of dried cum loads - mostly mine - that be Ok?"
In agony from the bite of the clips, the poor boy sickened at the
thought of something so vile in his mouth, yelled his answer, "YES SIR!
PLEASE PUT IT IN MY MOUTH MISTER!"
At instructions to do so, he opened wide, and Max stuffed the
yellowed jock, stinking of sweat, and piss, and cum, completely into the
open hole. He found the boys T-shirt - ripped off a strip, and used it to
tie the jock in the mouth as a gag - instantly muffling the not unexpected
hollers.
"So," Max said patting his new boy on he inner thigh as if
comforting him, "I'm going to go up front with my friend. I'd really like
to have a look at your ass cheeks and ass hole. We could keep your legs
spread wide and attach your ankles to where your wrists are, so things
could be exposed for me. So why don't you think about it for a while and
you can express to me what you'd like when I come back."
As Max peered down into the boy's beautiful, thick lashed, full eye
browed, eyes, the victim's look was one of anguish, and fear, and pleading,
all at the same time. The indistinguishable sounds he was making along
with the yelling were no doubt the words pleading for it to happen
immediately - no need for time to think anymore. He wanted to show he was
learning how to respond to the wishes of his tormentor.
Max put his naked defenseless victim through a wringer of physical
pain and emotional humiliation - deciding as he did so he wanted this one
for himself - at least for a while. Part of what made up his mind was the
verification of his presumption the beautiful thing before him was an anal
virgin. And THAT he wanted to own. Tempted to take it right there in the
van, he decided to wait and make it more a ceremonial event.
He would make a celebration of it with his men and some friends
invited to witness the consummation of the act of eradicating what could
only be taken once. The compelling thing about stripping a male of its
virginity is the devastating knowledge of the total irrevocable loss of the
most priceless and prideful representation of its manhood possible.
Permanent eternal transference of ownership of that most important private
personal part of a man to another goes a long way toward breaking him, when
creating a slave - even more so when done in the presence of others. It's
one of the things that make ownership of a straight man as slave property
such a compelling prospect.
He returned to the boy, to inspect however, that which he would
rape, pillage, and claim as his own at another time. He untied the piece
of the boy's shredded T-shirt holding the makeshift gag in his mouth and
pulled the filthy object out to those expected and immediate pleas. As
soon as the grimy rag was clear of the opening they started, "PLEASE MISTER
- PLEASE LOOK AT MY ASS HOLE! YOU SAID YOU WOULD LIKE TO DO THAT!" he even
covered the repositioning Max had spoken of, "PLEASE KEEP MY LEGS SPREAD
WIDE AND ATTACH MY ANKLES WHERE MY WRISTS ARE TO EXPOSE IT FOR YOU SO YOU
CAN SEE IT! PLEASE MISTER! IM SORRY SIR! I LEARNED MY LESSION! PLEASE
SIR THE CLIPS HURT SOOOOO MUCH SIR! I WONT DO IT AGAIN!"
"First things first," Max said casually, to the boy's anguishing
cries, and pleas, and promises. Lets have you cooperate getting you
repositioned."
"YES SIR!"
Max loosened the feet and pulled one then the other - with no
resistance at all - up, over, and back, to where the boy's wrists were
attached completely opening and revealing his asshole like it had never
before been revealed - to anyone - and it was happening for the one in
unquestioned control. Another man was positioning him to inspect what had
never been seen so exposed - by anyone - not even his girlfriend had seen
his asshole - and here it was in the air - the boy begging for it to be so.
His humiliation was just about total.
Max let the boy remain in that position for a bit - his cock and
balls inches from his own face. While completely exposed, the boy awaited
the timing of the unbelievably sadistic man, "Ok to touch everything here?"
was the ridiculous question.
"PLEASE TOUCH EVERYTHING SIR!"
"How about licking your ass hole - is that alright?"
YES SIR! PLEASE LICK IT?"
"You sure? You want a man to lick your asshole?"
"YES SIR! PLEASE SIR!" There was urgency in his immediate answers
as if to prove he had learned his lesson and the clips would be removed.
They wouldn't.
Max spread the cheeks and to the boy's utter mortification inhaled
deeply to smell his new property, "Better than poppers," he said. He dove
into the virginal hole with his tongue - the place he would soon violate
with his cock. It tasted and felt as good as it smelled and looked -
lightly haired - clean - with just the slightest hint of shit, "I bet you
haven't shit since you showered to go see your girlfriend have you?"
"NO SIR!" Max kept lapping and eating, giving the boy a sensation
he'd never had before. He told him to relax as he reached in - took hold
of his cock and began stroking it just to test - only the shaft - so as not
to exacerbate the clips on the foreskin and piss slit. They'd been on long
enough to somewhat numb their positioning. In a while it began to respond,
and even through his pain, the boy got hard. He was short-circuiting. How
could it be - a stranger - a man - a man victimizing him - was licking his
ass and making him hard? Max was a master at manipulation of all kinds.
He kept at the boy until he began to breathe heavy and he picked up the
pace. When he knew his victim's unwanted orgasm was imminent, he shouted,
"OPEN YOUR MOUTH!" He aimed the big hard cock dead-on as the boy began
cuming, and shot it into his own mouth. When every last drop was milked
from the stiff phallus, he told him to close his mouth and flush it down -
the first use of the toilet reference, "flush," relating to the boy
swallowing.
He set about relocating the ankles to their original spread eagle
position as the boy's cock pointed like a rocket into the air, and without
release, only slowly began to deflate, "Ok Max said, "Lets help you out
with these clips." Believing they were being removed, the boy gushed forth
with his expression of gratitude, "OH THANK YOU MISTER! THANK YOU SIR!
I'M SORRY SIR! I WON'T DO IT AGAIN," the poor thing yelled, as Max stifled
the noise stuffing the stinking, foul tasting, jock, now wet from the boys
saliva, back into the mouth that had just consumed its own - and its first
- load of cum. He'd never even tasted it before. After securing the gag
came the unexpected news, "I'm going to reposition these for you," he said,
as if doing the boy a favor - "give these spots a break." The increased
pain started with the removal of the one on the left tit. Taking a clamp
off was always as painful as its application, due to the blood flow being
reintroduced to the area, and the instantaneous muffled yelling was proof.
The tit clip had been located on the up - down axis. Max changed it to
left - right. He waited a moment then moved to the right one. He massaged
the tender flesh on removal of this one, even further increasing the pain.
Tits done, he moved to the ones on the foreskin. From left and
right sides, they took top and bottom positions - and the piss slit clip
was moved from bottom of the opening to the top. He went to the boys head
- took another angry clip from his pocket. Affectionately he surrounded
the boy's head and stroked his cheek as he applied the clip to the septum
of his nose. Looking tenderly into the boys tearing eyes he spoke, "As
soon as I hear you sincerely thank me for teaching you about behaving
appropriately when a man indicates he would like something of you, I will
take this one off." He flicked the one on his nose making the eyes tear as
they pleaded, and the mouth spoke its garbled words of gratitude for being
taught.
He removed the one from the nose, "What do you say?" he asked.
"The momentary relief was so great - not having to endure the extra
clip on the so sensitive septum. Just a short time of it was enough to be
a horrible indicator of such additional intense pain, "THANK YOU SIR!" the
boy cried.
Max lingered for a while like a kid with a new toy. He wasn't a
kid - but it was a new toy after all. He reluctantly left his source of
entertainment, and returned to his seat, leaving the pain wracked fresh
catch to plead from his place on his back on the floor, "Sounds good Sir,"
Dieter said, as his boss rejoined him in the front, "How does it all look?"
Dieter had of course been paying attention to the road and unable to enjoy
the view in the back.
"You know how good it looked form the waist up?" Max asked.
"Yes Sir."
"It's all like that - perfect. I'm keeping this one for a while.
It's never been fucked - gonna plan a little party and give it its first -
take that cherry - make it bleed - break that hymen - consummate my theft
and ownership of its virginity."
The boy's two-hour ride, "home," to New York in agony, was a
graphic lesson in how to respond to discovery of the desires and
preferences of another.
Max had that party a few days hence - raped the slave and indeed
made it bleed - stole its virginity and made it his own. He took his own
white briefs - wiped the blood from the pussy and his cock and held it up
in a gesture of victory and conquest to the delight and applause of those
present. It was only days later as Jake was being fucked, Max had Dieter
set the new slave up on the impaling device. When Jake saw him moaning in
anguish, he had been self-violating all night - told of the cameras, and
threatened with having his cock cut off if he stopped.
The beautiful slave would suffer great pain and humiliation at
Max's hand and become - as anything Max trained - a slave par excellence.
Max was big on fuckhole development of both the upper and lower. The slave
would be stuffed full, most of the time, with increasingly larger
implements. The cunt would be plugged and harnessed as Jake's had been,
and the throat would be trained to breathe around dildo gags progressively
deeper and wider in its throat. Full head harnesses would be the method of
retention for them. Max enjoyed making breathing for a slave an act that
required effort and focus, and made noise.
He lost a few in the beginning, but as with anything, failure leads
to success. He'd become quite proficient at this, as with all aspects of
his craft. Buyers, and those unfamiliar, were always pleasantly surprised
- sometimes shocked - when he would pull from the depths of a slave's
throat what it was breathing around. This kind of training definitely
helped close more than a few sales - especially to men who liked oral
worship and service - that is unless they were hung like Bob. Nothing - no
amount of training - could enable a throat to accommodate something like
that. Max had never experienced first hand a human cock so immense.
Thanks to MY readers for your involvement and participation in the stories.
There will be more MACK Wayne tales for your prurient perusal.
Most likely: "Savage Brother's slave," will be next.
So far:
"A slave's Induction"
"slaveMaster Tempter"
Comments welcome:
mackxwayne@hotmail.com
The man behind the words - MY website http://www.MACKsf.com