Date: Fri, 5 May 2006 22:12:29 -0700 (PDT)
From: Hank M <redbeardedsf@yahoo.com>
Subject: Taking Wally to Gaytown, part 3

TAKING WALLY TO GAYTOWN, psrt 3
By Master Redbeard
(redbeardedsf @ yahoo.com)


(This story is inspired by Waddie Greywolf, who was himself inspired by
Richard Davis. Greywolf allowed me to read an advance chapter of a story
that is as-yet unpublished. His story is about a fundamentalist Christian
father in Texas who enslaves his sons. My story about a father and his sons
is very different from Waddie's, but it is based in the same universe and
was inspired by reading Waddie's story.)


(This is a fantasy story set in a world in which slavery exists. This story
includes gay sex, some of which happens between an adult man of 18 and
older men. If any of this is offensive to you or if it's illegal to read
such a story in your jurisdiction, go away now. If you have trouble
differentiating between reality and fantasy, do not read this story - go
get help now.)


A half hour passed. When Ryan and Nigel came by next the older man refused
to go higher than $100,000 for Wally. Ryan acted like a petulant
child. While Nigel held firm about the price, saying he had a strict policy
never to go above $100,000 for any slave, he was clearly trying to humor
his younger compatriot. "We have that party tonight, dear boy. You know
it's always a fun time. And tomorrow I'll take you away to the lake and we
can talk about visiting that new place they're opening in the South
Pacific." Then the two of them disappeared into the crowd.


I had just resolved that the next time I saw the big man from the resort
chain, I would accept his $100,000 offer. But when I turned around there
was the Major. I smiled at him with a sense of relief. I'd been thinking of
everything he said about his relationship with his church and with the
Lord. I believed that a slave could enter heaven by cleaving to his
master. And I believed strongly that the Major was the master who could get
my boy into heaven.


The Major looked at the bid and crossed his arms over his chest. Then he
smiled at me and said, "I'll raise the bid to $120,000 on two conditions,
sir." He could see the eagerness in my face and he continued, "First, I
would like that bag of the boy's clothes you mentioned you have in your
car. And then I insist that you be my guest at my birthday celebration
tonight."


When I finally got my mouth to work all I could say was "$120,000?" This
was more money than was currently in my retirement account, and I blurted
that out to the Major without thinking. This was an amount of money that
could change my life. But, I reminded myself, the important thing was that
Wally would have a good Christian owner. Then I paused and asked, "Your
birthday party, Major?"


"There were just going to be eight of us at the gathering. You would make
nine. Well, not counting the slave boy of course."


"B-but," I stammered dumbly. "Your friends? Would they be... um, homos?
W-would there be anything happening at this party that would be..." I
couldn't finish the thought.


The Major was solicitous when he said, "Yes, my friend, the other men are
all avowed homosexuals. But as for anything happening at the party - well I
suppose you're asking if there would be anything happening at this party
that you, as a good Christian man, would not want to witness?" He took a
deep breath and continued, "I can assure you that if anything of a sexual
nature happened, it would involve the slave boy. And, as we have already
established, our churches agree that sex with a male slave does not
constitute the sin of homosexuality. I have great respect for your piety,
sir. But I'm sure you have been at parties at which good Christian men have
made use of slave boys for their release? Am I telling the truth?"


I could feel my face flushing as I remembered the retirement party at work
for old Mr. Grint. There was a Latino slave boy serving dinner, perhaps
just a few years older than Wally. I was one of many men who ended up using
the boy's expert mouth while Grint himself rode the slave boy's butt. I was
amazed that the old fellow could go at it so long and hard. Though the
slave boy, as I remember, had seemed quite bored with the whole thing.


The Major could tell from my face that I had indeed experienced oral
pleasure from a slave boy at a party. He slapped me on the back and said,
"My guests were looking forward to meeting a new slave boy tonight. Having
the boy's father there to help us celebrate the lad's first day in service
will make it an evening to remember."


Just then the powerfully built man from the resort came by and saw me with
the Major. Clearly the two men knew each other. When the resort
representative found out the price being paid for Wally, he shook the
Major's hand and said, "Enjoy the boy. Knowing you Major, I have faith that
you will."


There was a look of desperation in Wally's eyes as the Major gave
instructions to have the boy delivered to his home. But I smiled at my son
and said, "This isn't goodbye quite yet, Wally. I'll be seeing you
tonight. It will be a combination birthday party and launch to your life as
a slave." The Major laughed along with me.


The slave hall was very professional at handling all the paperwork. Of
course they took 5-percent off the top of the sale, so I lost the first
$6,000 from the $120,000. The Major gave me directions to his home and
invited me to head back there with him if I wanted to get freshened up. It
had been a hectic day and I welcomed that chance.


The Major's home was the grandest I've seen. Nobody in our town has the
sort of money to live like the Major. I'm not sure there's anyone in our
county seat who could live like the Major. He directed me to a small
bedroom next to his and told me to feel free to shower or nap. But before I
could get into the shower, he had brought in a full bottle of his
20-year-old whiskey. He and I toasted to his birthday and then he left the
bottle "just in case you'd like to wet your whistle a bit more."


By the time I headed downstairs to greet the Major's guests, my whistle had
been wet quite a bit. Among the Major's guests there was one big fat
screaming queen (well even the Major and his other guests described Warren
as a big fat screaming queen). In an odd way, Warren made me think of a gay
version of McGee - except Warren's clothes were much smarter and better
tailored and instead of combing his hair over his bald spot he had a very
expensive hairpiece.


But most of the other guests seemed like decent fellows. As I watched them
I started to consider that most of them could easily hide their swishy
mannerisms during the work week, but as they relaxed among friends and
continued to drink they became increasingly swishy and open in their gay
ways. Strangely enough, I found myself relaxing and laughing along with the
other fellows there.


The last two guests we'd been waiting for finally arrived and I was stunned
to see that it was Ryan and Nigel. Ryan was my son's former swimming coach
who had made a bid to buy Wally. While Nigel was even older than our
60-year-old birthday boy, Ryan was the only man there younger than me. He
greeted me with astonishment, saying, "Well for a straight man you
certainly show up at the gayest places?"


The Major intervened and said, "This gentleman is here as my special guest
because of a business deal I closed with him this afternoon." He then led
all of his guests into a grand dining room. There, in the middle of a big
round table, was Wally, still wearing just the pair of white briefs. He was
standing up. His arms were behind him and tied to a stake and his feet were
together and tied to the same stake. He was on a small platform that was
revolving very slowly in the center of the table.


I froze at the door at the sight in front of me. Yes, I had been to events
at which there had been a slave boy used for sex. But, never one where the
boy had been trussed up and displayed as the centerpiece of the dinner
table. And through the fog of the alcohol it dawned on me as well that this
slave boy being offered up tonight was the son I had raised for the
previous 18 years.


The men all approached the table and commented about how beautiful Wally
was. One called out, "How old is this kid, Major?" There was laughter in
the room as another said, "Yeh, I don't want us to be raided by those
age-of-consent do-gooders."


The Major joined in the merriment and said, "Don't worry, gentlemen. I have
documentation that the boy turned 18 today. Besides you can ask his
father."


All the men turned to me. I heard murmurs of, "The boy's father?" "Is he
for real?" "That's so fucking hot." The Major then introduced me around and
told everyone, "Just call him Dad. For tonight he's just Dad."


Dinner was served by two young slave boys - one was redheaded with freckles
and the other had golden skin and looked perhaps Hawaiian. Each boy wore
something that looked like a jockstrap that just supported the tackle and
had a rope going up the crack of the ass to a waistband. Neither boy was
taller than my son and both looked quite young.


The Major leaned toward me and said, "I assure any slave boy used for sex
here in Capitol City is at least 18. I do like the young smooth look, but a
man in my position must be careful to follow the law in each jurisdiction."


Warren bellowed from the other side of the table, "But in your Florida
estate..." The person next to him jabbed Warren in the side but the fat man
huffed, "All I'm saying is that they've changed the law in Florida so
they've lowered the age of..." That's when someone jabbed a breadstick in
Warren's mouth and everyone laughed.


As the dinner progressed, guests were reaching up and fondling Wally's
nearly nude body. This was usually accompanied by some comment, sometimes a
nice compliment and sometimes a vulgar remark. Soon Wally's underpants were
tangled in his thighs, then around his knees, and then fallen around his
feet. At one point Ryan seemed to be looking straight at me as he said,
"Now that's what I call a fuckable ass." When the men's handling had caused
Wally's penis to go fully stiff, one man whistled and looked at me saying,
"Impressive meat. Does he take after his father?"


The fact that I took all this in relatively good cheer had a lot to do with
the amount of fine whiskey I had consumed by that time of the evening. I
had started drinking with the Major well before his party began. I felt
mellow and ready to curl up for a nap, but the rest of the guests were
energized and looking forward to fun.


When I looked up I realized that the rotating platform in the middle of the
table had stopped. Now Wally, bound as he was, stood still, while Warren
enthusiastically stroked the boy's erect penis. Another guest stood next to
Warren, holding a bowl right under my boy's cock head. Ryan, on the other
side of the table, called out, "I know how to increase the volume of the
kid's load." Then he wet his finger in his mouth and shoved it
unceremoniously into the boy's backside. Wally howled and tensed up and
then I saw a spurt of semen shoot from the head of his penis. The man with
the bowl maneuvered it expertly to catch my son's semen. Spurt after spurt
landed in the bowl.


The serving slaves brought our desserts around the table. Warren followed
the slaves around the table and put a dollop of Wally's cum on top of each
serving of the flaming cherry dish. I put my hands over my bowl, nearly
burning my fingers, and shook my head in the negative. Warren smiled slyly
and said, "You don't know what you're missing dad. And it's fresh from your
own teenage son."


The Major waved his hand at his friend and said, "Leave him be. It just
means more for the rest of us." Indeed, Warren put three heaping spoonfuls
of the sperm on our host's flaming cherries and then the fat man licked out
the bowl and grinned at the assembled crowd.


When we retired into the parlor with brandy, the Major motioned for his two
serving lads to untie Wally and bring the boy in for our entertainment. He
added, "And be sure to bring that bag full of clothes as well."


Wally was brought into the room and stood at slave rest position, with his
hands clasped behind his back, his head bowed, and his feet 18 inches
apart. The men continued to speak, mostly directing questions to me about
my son. I told them he had won some medals at the state swimming
competition and they nodded to each other saying things like, "No wonder he
has those firm muscles." This was Ryan's opportunity to remind the gathered
men that he had once been the boy's swimming coach. I also told them about
Wally delivering a speech at his graduation just the previous week.


When the subject of Wally's younger brother came up, I expressed concern
that Will was away and did not yet know his brother had been enslaved. The
men asked to see a picture of Will and I passed around a picture from my
wallet that showed both boys on a rafting trip we had taken over spring
break - I thought the boys looked comical in their tank tops and shorts
that were plastered to their soaking wet bodies. One man remarked, "Given
that the 18-year-old looks about fourteen, I'm curious what the 14-year-old
is gonna look like." When the picture made its way to Ryan, his eyes seemed
to glaze over and he said, "Holy cow, the younger kid looks just like Wally
did at that age." He handed the picture to the Major, who smiled softly and
looked at it for quite a long time. "It would be lovely to have two
brothers so nicely matched."


I took the picture back from the Major and said, "Well, that's surely never
going to happen. Will is all I have left now. Besides, Major, he's four
years younger than Wally so it's not legal to use the lad for sex even if
he was enslaved."


"Yes, yes," the Major nodded. "And as I said a man in my position has to be
careful to uphold the law of each jurisdiction. But, just having a boy like
that around, so young and fresh and cute, just to look at - well, let's
just say a boy like that, especially as young as he is, has charms that can
reinvigorate an old man like me."


Warren piped up, "Besides, on the Florida estate it's legal to..." Someone
else nudged him and said, "Warren, put on some music." Warren turned to a
wall of digital equipment and soon soft music was piped through the room.


The Major stood up slowly and put an arm around my newly enslaved son
Wally. He grinned at his party guests and said, "Let's turn our attention
to my extra special birthday present, the birthday present I bought for
myself." Everyone laughed. "Now, Wally's dad has told all of us that he
enslaved the boy because the lad was queer. But Wally tells me he's a
straight boy. Answer me, slave boy, are you gay?"


"Sir, no sir," my naked son said quietly.


The big man was caressing the boy's face and neck and shoulders as he
continued, "Tell me, Wally, have you ever jerked off thinking about guys'
dicks or asses?"


"Sir, no sir," my son intoned once more, still looking at the floor.


The Major's big hands were moving everywhere on the slim blond
teen. "Wally, have you ever jerked off thinking about taking a man's thick
stiff prick in your mouth and sucking it? Have you ever gotten a boner
thinking about licking a man's dick juice out of his cock head, boy?"


"Sir, no sir," Wally gasped. I looked at my boy and saw that he was
trembling now. I also saw that his penis was shriveled up quite small. How
odd that Wally was as far from an erection as could be, but my penis was
fully stiff in my pants and beginning to leak. I'm certain my arousal had
something about the sensuality of the Major's voice.


The Major grabbed Wally's face in his hands and looked right into the boy's
eyes as he asked, "Have you ever kissed a boy or a man? Have you ever felt
all warm and aroused imagining how it would feel to kiss a boy or a man?"


Wally's voice cracked as he called out, "Sir, no sir." Then the man pulled
the boy's face to his and kissed him hard on the lips. Even from across the
room I could see that the Major's mouth was open and that his tongue was
playing with Wally's lips and mouth. I wondered what the Major's beard felt
like against my son's smooth face.


He pulled Wally's face from his and enunciated slowly, "Back when you were
a free boy, Wally, did you ever get hard thinking about a man's thick hairy
cock being pushed into your ass and fucking you?"


Wally fell in a heap on the floor weeping and calling out, "Sir, no
sir. Please, sir, don't do that to me, sir. I'm not a queer boy, sir."


I was scared the Major would respond by punishing his new slave, but
instead he caressed Wally's face and eased the boy up to his knees. He even
pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and used it to wipe Wally's
face. Wally was looking up at his master now. But when I glanced over I
could see a huge tent in the front of the big man's trousers. He was still
caressing the boy's face as he whispered, "But you're a slave boy, now,
right?"


"Y-yes, master," the boy whispered back intimately.


"Your master bought you for sex, Wally, because you're such a beautiful
boy. And now that you're a slave you're here to serve your master and do as
you're told. Right, slave boy?"


Wally swallowed hard and said, "Y-yes, master."


The man tenderly guided the boy's face to look toward the front of his
pants. Wally's eyes went wide and there was a choked sob in the back of his
throat. In a quiet, flat tone the Major said, "Take it out my pretty little
slave boy."


Wally's hands were trembling as he unzipped his master's pants. He reached
in and fumbled with the man's penis. I wanted to look away. I have no
interest seeing another man's erect penis. But there was something hypnotic
about the scene. I couldn't turn away. I gasped a little when I saw the
girth of the Major's semi-erect organ. Wally drew back a little bit. But
the Major's tender hand caressed his young face and drew the boy nearer to
his stiffening cock.


"Your tongue, slave boy."


Tears were streaming down Wally's face as his tongue came from between his
lips and touched the tip of the Major's erect cock. I watched as my son's
new master pressed his cock head down into the boy's tongue, spreading his
precum onto the teenage tastebuds.


"Open your lips, slave boy." The man did not jab his penis roughly into the
boy's throat. Instead he just toyed with the head of his penis on the tip
of my son's tongue. He cooed, "I know you're a straight boy, Wally. I know
you still think like a free boy. But those are all the reasons my big hairy
cock is so stiff."


The room was thick with erotic tension. When I took my eyes away from the
master and slave, I became aware that all the other men in the room were
displaying erections in their pants. Some were rubbing and some were trying
to be discreet, but every man was affected by what they had just seen and
heard. The only penis in the room that was not erect was Wally's. This
seemed odd to me. Wasn't I giving my queer son what he wanted? The Major
had spoken to me earlier when we had been drinking together and he said
that the fantasy of being a straight boy was probably very erotic for
Wally. He said that a lot of young gays had that fantasy and that I should
play along with it. So why didn't Wally have a boner?


The Major broke the trance of the moment and had Wally stand up. Warren had
chosen some clothes from the duffel bag I had brought and he now placed the
clothes on a table beside the naked slave boy. Wally looked up at his
master, not understanding what was expected of him. The Major grinned and
said, "We're going to play a little game, boy. You know you're a slave and
I know you're a slave and everyone in this room knows you're a slave. We
all know you have to do as you're commanded. But we're going to play a
little game and pretend that you're here tonight as a free boy, Wally."


There were chuckles throughout the room as Wally slowly began to get
dressed. He pulled up a pair of the white briefs he had worn each day of
his free boy life. Then he put on a white undershirt, a pair of chinos, and
a striped dress shirt that Warren had selected from the duffel bag. Finally
he pulled on a pair of socks and stepped into his penny loafers.


The Major went around behind Wally and used a tiny key to remove the boy's
slave collar. Wally touched his neck. The Major whispered to the boy loud
enough for all of us to hear, "You have your slave chip behind your ear,
boy. You have your slave number tattooed on your chest. You're a slave
through and through. But just 27 hours ago you were a free boy who never
imagined that you'd have to take some old man's stiff penis into your
mouth.


"Let's pretend your dad brought you here for a party. Let's pretend it's
two nights ago, back when you were free, back before your father even had
any notion of enslaving you. So here you are as a guest, Wally. Welcome to
my party."


The men were all sitting on three sofas that were set in a U-pattern. I was
sitting in a big comfy chair that was set back a little from the
sofas. Wally looked around at the group like a deer in the headlights, not
knowing how he was expected to act, not knowing what response might get him
punished as a slave.


A tall good-looking fellow named Brian patted the sofa beside him, smiled
up at my son and invited him to sit. This man had been an actor on a TV
western back when he was younger and had still kept a lot of his rugged
looks even though he was in his 60s. Wally moved slowly and sat between
Brian and a quiet smaller man named Mel, who was a banker. Brian took the
lead and started asking Wally about the swim team at school. As the Major
had wanted, it was a casual conversation that any older man would have with
a free boy at a party. Wally began to open up and answer the man's
questions.


Then Brian started squeezing one of Wally's legs. He grinned at the boy and
said, "I'll bet all that swimming has given you really nice thighs, son."


Wally froze for an instant and then turned to the Major. He asked, "Please,
sir, how should I act? D-do you want me to go along with what he wants or
c-could I tell him to stop touching my leg, sir?"


The Major seemed to be considering the question and then mulled over,
"Well, if you cooperate fully with men wanting to sex you up, boy, that
wouldn't make you a very believable free straight boy." Then the man turned
to me and said, "Dad, was Wally a good obedient son?"


"Always."


I was handed another drink by the Major and I downed it as he said, "In
that case, dad, since you and your 'free' son are guests here, you just
keep telling your boy to be cooperative and to let the men do what they
want." I couldn't help but chuckle. There was something absurd about
playing out this scene. But, after all, it was the man's birthday and he
had paid a huge amount to buy my son as his new slave.


Brian, the retired actor, took up the scene and started squeezing my son's
thigh once more. "Call me Brian, young fellow." The banker on the other
side of Wally touched the boy's other leg and said, "Call me Mel." Then
Brian smiled at Wally and said, "Show us your thighs, kid. Just slip your
pants down so we can see what kind of muscles your swimming has given you."


Wally, a little nervously, pulled away from Brian and pushed the other
man's hand away as he said, "Please don't touch me there. I'm not gonna
take down my pants here in front of all these men."


The Major turned and pointed to me as if telling me this was my cue. I
cleared my throat and said, "Son, you're a guest here. Take down your pants
for the nice men."


All eyes were on Wally's lap as he fumbled with his zipper and then peeled
his pants down just as far as his knees. The two men started feeling the
boy's bare thighs, squeezing his flesh and moving their hands up and down,
making comments about the smoothness of his skin or the firmness of his
muscles. The tail of the boy's dress shirt was hiding most of his white
briefs. The Major called out, "It's getting warm here, don't you think,
Wally? Take off that dress shirt of yours, son."


"D-do I have to?" the boy asked, looking at me.


I almost started laughing as I said, "Our host has been so gracious,
boy. Take off your shirt when he asks you to."


Mel decided to help Wally unbutton the shirt and then he pulled it off the
boy's arms. I adlibbed, "Son, don't you think you should thank the nice man
for his help taking off your shirt?"


There were some soft chuckles in the room but Wally quietly said, "Thank
you, Mel." The boy was just covered by his white briefs and his white
t-shirt, with his chinos slipped below his knees.


That's when Nigel, distinguished as he was, got down on the floor in front
of Wally and started pulling off each of the boy's penny loafers. He could
barely contain his glee as he said, "I'm always interested in the feet of
lads who swim a good deal. I'm curious whether your skin has gotten all
shriveled and pruney on your feet."


Some joker called out, "You're the expert on pruney and shriveled skin
here, Nigel," but the white-haired man ignored the comment as he brought my
son's bare foot to his lips. He was moaning as he sucked on Wally's big
toe.


The other men were off the sofas and moving closer to my son. Some of them
were rubbing the bulges in their pants, while others had pulled their cocks
out of their flies and were rubbing them right out in front of the group.


Warren leaned over the back of the sofa and reached his hands down the
front of Wally's chest. He was rubbing Wally's nipples through the fabric
of the boy's t-shirt. He started to chatter away, "Y'know I've been playing
with my nipples since I've been jerking off. So of course my nipples are
big tough things now that stick out stiff even when I'm not aroused. But
feel how flat the straight boy's tits are." Then he reached down and pulled
up Wally's t-shirt so he could tweak the boy's nipples right on the pink
flesh. "Let's see what it takes to get these standing up erect." I realized
that with the t-shirt pulled up as it was, Wally's slave identification
number was hidden.


Meanwhile Brian's fingers were just inside the leg band of Wally's white
briefs. He announced to the crowd, "Our little swimming champ here doesn't
have a hair on his balls!" Everyone chuckled along. I shook my head to try
to gather my thoughts. I had been there just hours earlier when Wally's
balls were shaved for the slave hall. But then I remembered this was all
part of the game.


"Please don't," Wally grunted, squirming his body. Then he howled in pain
and grabbed the wrist of Mel, the short banker that was sitting on his
other side. "Please, sir, that hurt."


"Oh, right," Mel said slyly, "free boys aren't used to getting a finger in
their cracks."


The Major was still on the sidelines as he called out, "No, no, boy. You
don't have to call him 'sir.' You're a free boy. At least in this scene now
you're a free boy. Let's say you were brought here as a guest by your
daddy. You didn't know you'd be surrounded by a bunch of horny pervs. You
didn't know we'd get your daddy drunk." Everyone laughed and I laughed
along.


"Now Wally, how would you react? As a free boy, as a straight teenager, how
would you react right now?"


Wally shouted, "Get your fucking queer hands off me!" Then he pushed at the
men and tried to get up from the couch. But with his pants tangled around
his calves and with the small white-haired man at his feet, Wally
stumbled. Hands were all over him and lifted him up off the ground.


In an instant Wally was bent over the side of a table. Someone pulled down
the back of my son's briefs, but left them tangled around his thighs. For
such a large man, Warren proved to be nimble as he fell to his knees behind
the boy and brought his lips to the teenager's crack. The big man pulled
Wally's cheeks apart and was making grunting and snorting noises as he ate
out my son's hole. On one level I knew I should be repulsed by such a
sight, I knew this should be turning my stomach. And yet I couldn't take my
eyes away from the scene before me.


Finally the Major moved from his vantage point on the sidelines and joined
in. He pulled open the pants of his white suit. He wasn't wearing anything
under the pants and now his cock and balls were completely revealed. It was
impressive equipment nested in a thick bush of black and white hairs. He
was holding his rod as he grinned down at Wally's body being held in place.


(end of part 3 - to be continued)