Date: Fri, 09 Aug 2002 13:18:58 +1000
From: Iain Robertson <iainlthr@hotmail.com>
Subject: Take It Or Leave It - Ch 6

Copyright for this story belongs to and remains with the author. I don't
have any major objection to my work being re-distributed, but ASK FIRST!!!

This is a gay adult story with the consequent language and images. If
homosexuality and/or sexually explicit themes offend you then do not
continue. If these are illegal in your area, then you have my sympathy, but
you proceed at your own risk.

This is a work of fiction, and as such the characters are not bound by the
usual dictates of modern society. Unsafe sexual practices can be undertaken
with impunity only in the world of fantasy. In reality, it is your
obligation and your right to play safely, sanely and healthily.

I hope you enjoy my work, and if you have any comments, or ideas that may
inspire new work, please feel free to contact me -- all emails will be
answered to the best of my ability. Iainlthr@hotmail.com.


Take It or Leave It

Chapter 6

	Iainlthr@hotmail.com


When I woke again, it was still dark. The candles had burnt out, and I
sensed rather than saw that the sky outside was just beginning to lighten. I
was still encased in my leather harness, and as I moved a little, I felt the
dried remains of last night's mind-blowing experience scratchy on my skin.
My head was resting against his leg, the supple black leather of his chaps
comfortingly masculine against my flesh. Intuitively, I swung my face around
and licked at his leathered legs, tasting the hide and the musky residue of
the previous evening. He stirred as I nudged at him, shifting his weight and
feeling for my body with his strong hands, the same hands that had pierced
and held me.

He rolled onto his back, his hands behind his head, and sighed deeply.
Aroused by his very proximity, I ran my hand across his taut abdomen,
feeling the hairy flesh beneath my fingers. He made no protest, and
emboldened, I got to my knees and bent my head to his groin, finding his
thick weapon already partly erect. I rolled my lips down over him, my tongue
tracing the hard steel of his PA and licking at his large mushroom head. He
sprang to full hardness quickly and I slurped at him, coating his mighty
cock with saliva. Still he remained lying there, not a sound from him.
Taking his silence as encouragement, I lifted my leg over his torso and
straddled him, slowly lowering my arse as my hand guided his steel hard
prong toward my entrance. Amazingly, my hole was tender and ached a little,
but not ripped or painful as I expected. Still loose from last night's
fisting, I easily sat myself down onto him, using my bodyweight to impale
myself on his towering masculinity.

As I sank onto him, his cock fully encased in my bowel, he moaned quietly,
and humped upward. I reached for his chest, found the piercings through his
large brown nipples, and pulled at them. With a grunting roar, he bucked and
speared upwards into me, but I hung onto him, clenching my weakened muscles
around his pole. Bouncing and shaking, I rode him like a bull, holding to
his nipple rings and milking his rampant sword with my arse. Bellowing at
me, he pumped his essence up and into my gut, flooding me with creamy jism
which leaked back along his thick pole and squelched over the point where we
were joined. My own climax was close behind, his meat still shuddering with
the last of his eruptions as I spurted a river of cum onto his stomach.

Smiling as we eased back down, his hands reached for my sides, and he lifted
me from him.

"Good morning, boy," he said warmly, and I hummed a happy reply.

Standing up, stretching his limbs, he pulled at the door of the cellar, and
soft light streamed in. The raging storm of the previous evening had
cleared, and the sky was cloudless. He climbed the stairs with me close
behind, and as we reached the front of the cottage, he bent to me. Undoing
the harness and lifting it from me, he removed the cuffs on my wrists and
ankles, the collar from my neck, and finally, almost reluctantly, the
cockring around the base of my shaft.

"Go and wash, dog," he ordered, pointing towards the creek. Happily, I
obeyed, sauntering down to the little stream and wading in to the clean cool
water. I rubbed myself down and lazed in the invigorating pool for half an
hour, relaxing and enjoying the freshness of it. Wondering that he had not
summoned me to return, I casually clambered out and wandered back to the
house.

On the verandah were the clothes I had arrived in, folded and clean. He
stepped from the living room, his beautiful leather chaps replaced by loose
jeans and a ragged t-shirt. Pointing to my clothes, he said gruffly, "You
better hurry up and get dressed. Your ride back to town will be here soon."

I started to protest, but he cut me off. "A deal's a deal. Three days as my
slave, and I get you safely home. Time's up, city boy."

His whole demeanour had changed. He was no longer my Master, nor was he the
masculine leather stud of my fantasies come alive. He was a grumpy country
bear who wanted me off his property. I dressed quickly, and sat myself on
the little patio, lost in thought, desperate to understand what I had done
to upset him.

             ******************

My reverie was broken by the sound of a vehicle. An ancient truck topped the
rise about a kilometre and a half from the house, tooting its horn. A
wizened old man climbed from the cabin as the truck rolled to a stop, and
looked at me with surprise. My bear man came out to greet his visitor,
almost stepping over me.

"Hi, Jim," he called to the driver. "Good to see you again. Found this guy
on my doorstep a couple of days ago, says his car is broken down."

Jim walked up to me holding out his hand, which I shook tentatively. "I just
wanted a phone to call for help," I stuttered out by way of explanation.

"Well, I can get you back to town. There's a phone there you can use," Jim
drawled slowly, his curiosity dying with his words.

The two of them quickly unloaded the supplies Jim had delivered to my man,
speaking little as they did, while I sat and watched, miserable and forlorn,
emotions tumbling through my head. Before long the transaction was done, Jim
pocketed his payment, and made ready to leave again. I turned to look at the
man who had owned me for the last days,  who had abused me and given me the
most incredible experience of my life. He glanced at me then looked away.

"Your lift is leaving," he said gruffly. "Get moving and don't get lost
around here again. I don't like being disturbed, and I don't like company."

Jim laughed conspiratorially. "Give you a hard time did he?" he asked my
host.

"Oh yeah. Typical city slicker. Raving on and on about how good it is back
in the big smoke, how there's nothing to do around here. Positively BORING!"
he said emphasising the last word, but I took no notice. I was lost in a
feeling of depression, now that it was time to go home.

"Come on, son," Jim called to me. "What's your name?"

"Lennie," I answered morosely, climbing into the passenger seat of the
rickety vehicle. As we drove off I turned and looked back at the cottage and
its tiny valley. My hunk of man leaned against a post watching us go, but
made no sign of farewell or other gesture.

The trip back to town was long and quiet. Jim spoke little, and I was
immersed in thoughts of my own. "Town" was a stereotypical one horse affair
-- a tiny general store, and even tinier church, and a handful of run down
cottages. But there was a phone. I rang my boss to report my problems. No
sympathy about being stranded for three days, just annoyance that I was
still out here and wouldn't be in for another two, and an admonishment to
get my arse back there as fast as I could.

Eventually I found a mechanic who towed the car in, and declared it a lost
cause. I retrieved my work things and donated the bomb to him for parts.
Another begged lift got me to a real town, and a train from there back to
Sydney. I did a lot of thinking on the slow trip home, soul searching and
musing over what ifs and maybes. But continually my mind returned to that
secluded remote vale and the hunk who inhabited it. Images of him, owning
me, controlling me, sending me to paradise, constantly filled my memory.

Back at my cramped flat, I pondered again the world I had left back there. I
replayed that last morning in my head and heard his words to Jim again.
`Raving on ^Å nothing to do ^Å BORING'. That was it! He'd used our safe word,
emphasised it, and I hadn't noticed! I was sure of it, sure he had been
trying to tell me something.

            *******************

My first morning back in the office I was summoned to see my supervisor. I
handed over the records from my sales trip, the dismal offerings I had, and
waited. Not for long. He exploded, shouting about wasted time and useless
trips, rising costs and falling profits. I looked at him disinterestedly,
letting him rave. I couldn't care less anymore. He finished up with a threat
that I was close to losing the job if I didn't start performing a hell of a
lot better. I looked through the glass partition at my fellow workers, heads
down and toiling away at figures and targets, and made my decision.

"Well, in that case, I guess I'll give my notice now. I'd like to collect
whatever's owing to me tomorrow, and you won't have to worry about my
efforts from then on."

He turned red and ordered me out. Happily, I went.

            **********

The next day I collected my entitlements from the paymistress, telling her I
had decided to take a long trip. I closed my bank account, emptying it and
pocketing the cash, more than sufficient for what I had in mind. Then I
started doing a little research on the internet, and sought out some unusual
shops in the gay part of town. I was determined, driven, and I knew what I
had to do as I remembered everything that had happened in the days I had
been no more than a pet.

I visited a body piercing salon, and had both nipples pierced, set through
with silver rings that glistened against my chest. A few days later I was
back, and had a larger silver ring inserted through the loose skin of my
ball sack, at the point where it hung lowest. Another week passed and I was
back again, this time for what I considered a major operation, and one I had
needed to psyche myself up for. With encouragement from the guy at the
salon, I had my cock pierced, a Prince Albert ring almost identical to the
one he had worn, inserted through my sensitive flesh. Over the following
weeks I bathed and treated the piercings, carefully following the
instructions from the salon, ensuring they healed quickly and properly.

       *********

While I was having myself adorned, I also sought out a few of the leather
boutiques, the ones catering for a wide range of fetishes and unusual
tastes. I had myself measured and fitted for several harnesses of leather
and metal, in differing configurations, all of them designed to wrap and
bind me tightly while allowing free access to my rear and at the same time
emphasising my nipples. I also made sure they each allowed for a master to
grip and hold the straps and use them to pull at with strength. At the same
time I had several pairs of chaps tailored for me, shining polished black
leather that fit tightly over my legs and framed my butt cheeks, so snug it
gripped at me like a second skin. A number of pouches and thongs in soft
gleaming black which accentuated my cock and balls were also added to my
collection.

I found and purchased two pairs of leather boots, adorned with chains and
metal rings. I bought knee pads, several sets in toughened leather, and a
wide leather studded collar with a long silver chain permanently fixed to
it. My next find made me grin as I remembered his lament that first day when
my hands were cuffed behind my back. Gloves, of a sort, that fit over my
hands like a sack and tied at the wrists. They looked initially like boxing
gloves, but there was no compartment for fingers, simply a sturdy leather
case which enveloped the entire hand, making it impossible for the wearer to
do anything with his hands or fingers. In strong black leather. I bought
three pairs.

My final purchases in the leather fetish stores were a masterpiece of good
luck, and I found the thought of them quite arousing. The first was a hood
which covered my entire head, except for an open hole over my mouth and
slits for my eyes. Made of soft leather, it encased my face in black hide
and completely hid my identity. I had looked at a number of hoods, but this
one caught my eye because it had fake ears, like dogs' ears, formed from
leather pieces and sewn onto the top of the head. I happily snatched it up,
admiring it.

As I did, the assistant in the store grinned at me. "If you're into that
kind of thing, we also have this," he said eagerly. Opening a case, he
handed me a butt plug, not very long but with a wide flange. Instead of the
usual flattened base, though, this plug had attached to the base a long
leather cord which had been intentionally frayed and split, so that it
looked like short hairs along an erect length. A tail! My heart beat with
excitement, my cock twitched, and I grabbed it. It was perfect. I added ten
bottles of amyl to my order, and left the place delighted with my purchases.

           *************

Time was passing. It had been more than two months since I had broken down
on the deserted back road that fateful day, and every spare moment of my
time my thoughts drifted back to the little valley and its beefy masculine
inhabitant. I had pretty well sorted out my affairs in the city. I had cut
my ties to anyone who would want to look for me (not that difficult) and was
running up a huge credit card debt, but I didn't care -- I intended to
disappear, and no-one would be able to trace me. I gave all of my furniture
to charity, dumped all but a single outfit of denim jeans, t-shirt and
jacket in a re-cycle bin, and spent my last night alone in my now empty
flat, dreaming of the man out in the remote west.

The next day, I bought a second hand motor bike, paying cash and giving the
disinterested seller a false name and address. Loading up the carry bag with
my cargo of special equipment, I locked my flat, and closed the door on my
life. I headed west, riding all that day and the next, stopping overnight at
cheap motels where they didn't even bother to ask for identification. At
noon on the third day, I turned off the deserted bitumen onto the dusty
track that led to his home. Riding slowly, I came to remembered landmarks
about a kilometre from the house around 3.00 pm, and stopped, settling down
to rest from the heat under a large tree.

As night fell and the temperature eased, I prepared for the final stage of
my journey. I stripped off the street clothes, and buckled the most
elaborate of my harnesses around my torso, framing my pierced tits and
sliding the attached cockring over my manhood. I donned a tiny leather
posing thong that cupped my nuts tightly, and squeezed myself into a pair of
tight bright chaps, knee pads fastened over them, the scent of new leather
strong in the air. Pulling on my boots, and fixing the leather hood down
over my head, making it sure it sat snugly and squarely over my face, I
concealed the bike in some long grass, and picked up the carrier containing
all my worldly possessions.

Setting off, I walked cautiously the last few hundred metres. In the
moonlight, I looked down to the house, the river sparkling beyond it. There
was no light within, and I silently wished him to be soundly asleep.
Creeping up to the front steps, I settled the carry bag right in front of
the door, taking a pre-written note from it and placing the paper on top. I
carefully, quietly fitted the collar around my neck and snapped the free end
to a hook on the verandah post. I pulled on one of the hand gloves, tying
the wrist cords with fingers and teeth, and struggled in silence to get the
other over my free hand. Disappointed, I left the second untied, as I had no
way of doing it up, and lay down on the grass.

I tried to sleep, but my mind raced with what I was doing, what I had done.
After all this, what if I had misread his words when I left? What if he
really would not want me back? What if he sent me away again?

        **********

Dawn came and the sky lightened. Even with the hood over my head, my ears
were primed for the slightest noise from within, and soon enough I heard him
walking around the living area. I sat up on the ground, looking intently at
the door. When it opened he stood there naked and beautiful. A momentary
flicker of surprise crossed his face, and I swore I saw a trace of a smile
at his lips, and then he stood as if he had expected to find me there, as if
I were there every morning. He bent down and picked up the note on the
carrier bag, reading slowly.

"This poor dog has lost it's home and needs a new owner. There is no trace
of how it got here, and no way anyone can know where it is. In the bag
accompanying it are some items that may be useful, as well as money it had
access to, to pay for its keep. Some way back along the track is a motorbike
you may find useful. It cannot be linked to the dog in any way. The dog is
reasonably broken in, but could do with more training. If you can find it in
your heart, please consider yourself its Master from now on. Take it or
leave it."

He breathed a long contented sigh as he finished reading, and looked at me
with smiling eyes. Noticing the loose glove over my right hand, he bent and
tied the strings at my wrist firmly in place, and scratched at the leather
hood, behind the ears adorning it.

"Better get yourself a drink, dog. There's a bowl of water next to your
kennel," he said evenly, quietly, undoing the leash where it joined the
post. On my hands and knees I crawled away from him, smiling to myself,
around the side of the building to my kennel. It was exactly as I had
remembered, except for a carefully painted sign over the low door hole.
`LENNIE'. I looked at it in amazement, and tears formed in my eyes.

Five minutes later, I heard a long whistle from the front of the cottage,
followed by a low call. "Lennie, here boy," he said loudly. My heart pounded
and my emotions somersaulted with joy. I scurried around to answer him, and
he was standing on the verandah, his arms crossed on his chest and legs
apart, dressed in shining tight leather chaps, heavy boots, a simple black
leather harness, armbands and police cap. His large pierced cock swung
between his powerful legs, thick and beginning to harden. As I crawled up to
him, I licked at his thigh and closed my lips over his cockhead, tasting a
long missed musk. He smiled down at me.

"About time you finally showed up again," he said. "There's an empty dungeon
around here just waiting for me and you to put it to proper use. We don't
want to waste another minute. Oh, and Lennie -- I'm happy to have a new pet.
It does get lonely around here sometimes, but not any more. I'll take it!"

The End

Comments, complaints or compliments? Contact me at iainlthr@hotmail.com