Date: Sun, 21 Feb 2016 09:51:14 -0700
From: Ken Duxbury <kenduxbury52@gmail.com>
Subject: The Disagreement Part 4

This story is a work of fiction.  Originally, this was a two part story,
not originally intended to be put on Nifty.  However, I have had numerous
fans screaming and begging for more adventures with Caleb.  After an email
last week from one specific fan (You know who You are *wink*), I was
convinced that perhaps Caleb needed more action, so I'm going to pause my
fantasy/sci-fi novel (non-erotica) that I've been working on, and pump out
some more chapters.  And this time, maybe I'll leave it open-ended(ish), so
I can continue in the future.  It involves legal, consent aged men, with
titles (such as Sir/boy) denoting Dominant or submissive persons.  This
work is not to be recreated or copied without approval from me, the author,
Kenneth P Duxbury, and the usual legal mumbo jumbo applies – if you are
not 18 or it is illegal to read adult erotica where you live, close this
out now, etc.  DONATE TO NIFTY!!!!  NOW!!!!  Or face the consequences!
*evil laugh* Seriously, though, we need to donate to Nifty so we all have a
free place to post our stories and read others.

THE DISAGREEMENT
Part 4

Erin

	I knew I had a good lot in life.  A damned good lot.  I had
everything that a young guy could ask for.  Money, enough to live off the
interest very comfortably if I wanted.  Relative fame, doing a few modeling
gigs here and there.  My own business.  Dad provided the seed money, and I
started a modeling/talent agency that fronted a male whore house.  Of
course, I let the boys do some actual modeling, but mostly the gigs were an
exercise in man pussy pounding.  I prided the fact that I was grooming
these men for a real career in the entertainment industry, whether it was
getting their mugs on screen or dancing at a strip joint.  When (or if,
some have been with me for several months and have expressed a desire to
stay) they left, 9 out of 10 went on to actually make something of
themselves.

	I taught them self-reliance.  I taught them how to make worthy
goals for themselves, and to stick with it.  I taught them self-esteem.  I
gave them confidence.  And, of course, I fucked them stupid.  The straight
cherries were always the most fun to pop, but occasionally, a gay virgin
would walk through my doors.  It was a total delight when that happened.
Working with him, starting to build him, then introducing him to the veiled
side of the agency with my own cock.  The fear and desire in his eyes, as
he watched my cock approach his pussy, and the realization after fucking
him for a while that he was about to shoot hands free, and exactly what
that meant.

	Don't get me wrong.  I made sure their first times were beyond
pleasurable.  I wanted them to have a good experience, to come back for
more, and to actually start wanting to participate as a bottom.  After all,
what good is an escort business without the whores?  I warned them that not
every single trick was going to be pleasurable, however.  Some men were
just too fucking ugly.  But, if they paid well, we could overlook their
nasty qualities.  I reminded my boys to keep the goal in mind – making
money.  I told them if they had to look at a pig face, just to imagine the
thousand dollars per hour (minimum) he had paid in advance to have a slice
of heaven.

	On a couple occasions, I had a young one come to me, looking to
break into "the business".  Far too young, definitely not `legal'.  The two
that I had in my stables right now were living on the streets before I had
taken them under my wing.  I felt for them, I really did.  They were kicked
out of their parent's house for being gay, one at the age of 15, the other
16.  I'll get back to them later, but suffice it to say, I had become a
very young `Dad'.  They even started calling me that.  Something to think
about, no?  I'll get back to them later.

	As for the others, I had an interesting mix of straight, bi and gay
sluts working under me.  The bi and gay guys were naturals for the most
part, of course.  But the straight ones were kind of a mystery to me.  They
knew the deal long before they signed the contract, yet they signed anyway.
That first time taking them for a spin, after watching them closely for a
few weeks, I explained how they could make more money if they wanted.  Let
me tell you; watching a straight guy take it up the ass, and walk away
confused as to why he came hands-free (which happened more often than one
would think), was too much fun.  But I would invariably pull him into my
office the next day and explain to him how he could enjoy it (prostate
pounding doesn't have an `orientation' affixed to it), and that enjoying
the act didn't necessarily mean he was into dudes.

	I had my rules that the boys, regardless of age or personal
circumstances, had to follow.  Number one, which I very strictly enforced
and repeatedly warned them of, was no dating the clientele, or anyone else
for that matter.  That just could not happen.  I wasn't running a dating
service, and if they were getting sex at home they were less enthusiastic
with the clients.  Two was to keep their hands off their junk unless they
were with a client.  I could tell when they were obeying this rule; if they
were behaving, they were frothing at the mouth for clients.  If they
weren't then they weren't as enthusiastic to get some business, and after
interrogating them, they would admit that they had been jacking off.  Most
would experience a chastity device during the initial few weeks of
grooming, and often learn to abstain after that experience.  But there were
four that repeatedly broke the rule, so I had to get their dicks pierced
and fitted with a more permanent cock tube device.

	The third rule was that they all had to go on Truvada.  Most of our
clients wanted to fuck their whore raw, and I wasn't down for getting any
of my boys sick.  They would take their daily pill to prevent this.  Let's
face it; I care for my boys.  I see them as my livestock, my property.
With an affectionate twist.  Some of them were just down right loveable.
But, even the ones who's personalities weren't quite compatible with mine
were under my protection, and I wasn't about to put them in harm's way.  Of
course, the clients were forced to sign a contract that stated they were
disease free, and if they refused then they had to wear a condom.  I just
wouldn't allow my boys to come into danger like that.  I think they
appreciated that fact, too.

	The fourth was discretion.  I drilled it into them over and over to
be discrete.  Last thing we needed was legal troubles.  I had made a
contact within the local law enforcement (actually a close friend of mine
from high school) who I ran every prospective new client through to begin
with, to make sure that they weren't either an undercover cop, or worse yet
some criminal.  I run a respectable business, and we charge an arm and a
leg for our premium models (and I have nothing less than the premium), and
I wasn't about to jeopardize that by renting out one of my sluts to some
perp.

	I made other rules to suit each boy individually.  Some needed
lazer hair removal, others needed slight manscaping.  Some needed more
guidance, others less.  I found that a personal approach worked far better
than some mass-production mindset.  Plus, it allowed me the opportunity to
get closer to my boys, to get to know them individually.

	Dad was impressed, to say the least.  Over the past year and a
half, I had built something to be truly proud of.  I had major studios
looking at my boys.  We even landed on a prominent role in this summer's
blockbuster; not that I watched it.  I always found the summer blockbusters
pretty droll.  But, it was a hell of an accomplishment.  I had a recipe for
success, and I was intent on building on that.  I had paid dad the seed
money back within six months, and I was finally my own man.

	Everything was going great, until one day on a particularly warm
June morning, when I was driving down Main Street, and I saw a ghost from
my past.  I had Eric, the 15 year old homeless kid I had pulled off the
streets and under my protection, with me.  He had had it rough.  His
parents had kicked him out after finding him butt fucking a friend of his.
But not before his father had literally beaten him senseless.  The tale he
told me chilled me to my core, and after I held him and let him get it all
out, I decided that I wouldn't let this kid suffer any longer.

	We were driving to the family attorney's office, to discuss
adoption procedures, when I spotted a man slumped over, squatting against a
building with a paper cup in front of him.  I passed by, and couldn't
believe what I was seeing, so I circled the block to make sure.  This
hadn't gone unnoticed by Eric, who looked quizzically at me.

	"I thought we were going to see the lawyer, Dad."  It was adorable.
Only 7 years difference, but my young charge had started calling me `Dad'
out of the blue one day.  I didn't say anything back, only looked at him
and smiled when he had said that the first time, and I couldn't help but
feel my eyes get damp.  But, enough of the mushy shit for now.
	"Yes, we are, but I just need to make sure I'm not seeing a ghost."
Eric gave me a confused look, but said nothing more.

	Holy fuck.  It is him!  What the hell?  There, slumped against the
building, was a very ragged, very dirty, Caleb.

Caleb, Ten months prior

	Searing pain.  I was only partially coherent, but my senses were
flooded with agony.  My neck felt like it had been battered, my throat felt
like it had been crushed.  I was sure my ass was bleeding, and my head felt
like someone broke a baseball bat over it.  I woke, lying on the hallway
outside the bedroom.  One eye fluttered open, the other one didn't seem to
want to open on its own, and when I tried it hurt like hell.  I could
barely stand up.  I looked in the direction of the bedroom, and saw the
door was closed.  I limped to the bathroom, turned on the light, and
approached the mirror.

	What was looking back at me was almost unrecognizable.  Tom had
apparently stopped trying to strangle me to death, but the bruises on my
throat were already forming.  One eye was swollen shut, and my lip was
bleeding.  I saw numerous other bruises on my torso, then just stopped
looking.  Tom had beat the fuck out of me.

	I wasn't in any shape to go anywhere, so I quietly made my way to
the guest bedroom, shut the door and locked it, then laid down on the bed
and began to sob.  I didn't know what I had done to deserve this.  I
thought I was good.  I thought Tom loved me.  A million things raced
through my mind that I didn't understand, questions that I didn't have the
answers to.

	So started my downfall.  I went from a happy suburban man-wife, to
a dejected homeless outcast.  My `friends' weren't speaking to me.  Tom had
kicked me out after a surprisingly emotionless confrontation.  I lived in
my apartment for a few months, but I just couldn't get any work done.  I
had no drive, and my clients one by one stopped calling.  Money was running
out, so I started selling my stuff to pay the rent.

	That lasted a month.  The next month, I avoided the property
management company, but the following month they came knocking on my door
and served me the eviction notice.  I took it passively.  I sighed and
closed the door.  I had to be out, one way or another by tomorrow.  I
looked around the barren apartment and realized I had nothing.  Absolutely
nothing.  I had the clothing I was wearing, and that was it.  I grabbed my
car keys, set the apartment keys and the eviction notice on the kitchen
counter, and walked out.

	My car had seen better days.  It was dirty, and with a quarter of a
tank of gas (that had been sitting in it for the past two months), I pulled
out of the parking garage and drove to a local park.  I remember sitting
there, wondering what I was going to do.  I didn't have any family left.
They had cut me off and disowned me after I came out.  I didn't have any
friends left.  I had nothing.  It won't be long before the lease company
found my car and took that from me too.

	Which happened, soon after.  I tried getting into a shelter, but
everything was always full.  Rejected, even by the homeless shelter.  I
lived day to day, moment to moment.  I learned quickly where to find meals,
and places I could wash up.  Occasionally, someone would ask "How much?".
Meaning, of course, how much to have sex with me.  I was still good
looking, After they paid their twenty dollars and had their way with my
hole, I would go find a fast food joint and get something to eat.

	Life was, well, horrible.  I was sitting propped up against an
empty bank building one morning, face cast down, mulling over my options.
I hadn't eaten in days, as no one wanted to fuck a smelly, ragged homeless
dude, so the occasional twenty for my ass had dried up long ago.  My
stomach had ceased rumbling and now just felt like a twisting empty pit,
and I felt weak.  I had very little energy, and even if the police came
around to shoo me off, I doubt I would have been able to move.

	Options were; I could continue like this.  Or I could keep trying
to make a comeback, but that was almost pointless.  I had nothing to come
back on.  No money, no assets, no one willing to help me past throwing a
$20 at me after they finished unloading their scuzz up my boy-twat, which
as I said was becoming exceedingly rarer as the weeks went by.

	Or, I could end it.  Just end it all.  Maybe that would be for the
best?  Just put myself out of my misery, at least that would be on my
terms.

	I was mulling this all over in my head, when I heard a voice, a
voice from my past that I didn't recognize right away, say "Caleb?
Caleb?!?  What the hell happened..."  He started, and I looked up.  There,
standing a few feet from me, was someone that I thought I would never see
again.  It was Erin.

	I didn't respond.  I just stared at him.  A few emotions coursed
through me.  On one hand, there stood someone I had begun to feel something
for a while back.  A year and a half ago, give or take.  I looked at his
beautiful face, remembering how attracted I had been to him.

	Then I remembered the steel tube locked on my cock, and I felt
anger.  I had to fight back an urge to stand up and clock him.  I remember
how he had punked me, tricked me into going home with him, then ended up
locking this thing on my dick.  I hated it sometimes.  I got horny and
thought about sex – often, at least once an hour – but I couldn't
relieve the constant horniness I felt.

	But, over the past several months I learned to love it, too.  I
learned to enjoy being the bitch.  I learned how much pleasure I got from
being fucked.  And, to be honest, most of the anal orgasms I had made the
top-man orgasms I used to have seem like wasted effort.  I had come to
terms with being a cunt for Men to fuck.  So, was it really so bad?

	"Fuck...Caleb...what happened to you?"  He gasped, as I looked up
at his face, and felt my eyes start to wet.
	"Erin..."  I croaked out.
	"OH, fuck, Caleb..."  Next thing I knew, his arms were flung around
me, and he pulled my head into my chest.  He was pulling me up, and there
was some young guy helping him.  They were guiding me to his car, opened
the door, and put me in the back seat.  All of a sudden, I was lying in a
warm bed.  Someone was patting my face with a damp cloth.  I fell back to
sleep.


Erin

	Holy shit.  Caleb.  I think he was almost dead when I found him on
the street.  I called Dad immediately, after Eric and I put Caleb in the
back seat, and told him what was going on.  We still needed to meet with
our lawyer, but I'll be damned if I let Caleb out of my grasp at this
point.  He needed help.  Dad met us at the lawyer's office, and we put him
in the passenger side of Dad's Cayenne.

	"Don't worry son.  I'll take him back to your place, get some food
and water in him, clean him up, and put him to bed.  You go ahead with your
meeting, it's high time that Eric had a real dad."

	I could have went down on Dad right there, I loved him so much in
that moment.  I couldn't cancel this appointment.  I needed to get Eric
back in school, and to do so, he needed a proper legal guardian and a home
on record.

	The previous week, I had talked with both social services and the
police, informed them as to what happened, and told them my plan of helping
Eric.  It was greeted warmly.  That evening, when me and a few muscle bound
guys walked up and into Eric's old home and got his parents to sign the
documents giving up all rights to Eric (after a bit of forceful
intimidation...I can't tell you how satisfying it was to see that piece of
shit man that used to be Eric's dad writhing around on the ground after
several blows to his worthless nuts), I told Eric my whole plan.  He was
excited to be going back to school, seeing his friends again, and
completing his 12 year education, so he could move forward.

	I knew Dad would take care of Caleb for the next few hours while I
finalized adopting Eric.  I couldn't leave him sitting in my car, as he had
lost consciousness and might need to be taken to the hospital, so Dad
swooped in to save the day.

	Nothing more was said about Caleb, although Eric did give me a few
questioning looks, but I told him "Later." And ended the discussion before
it began.

	The adoption proceeding was long, but by the end we had the
temporary papers.  I was now Eric's sole guardian, and more than just his
`Dad' in name.  I truly had a son, now.  I felt so proud to walk out of the
courthouse, his hand in mine, and give him a big hug.  "Things are going to
be better for you now, Eric.  I will make sure of that."
	"I know Dad.  I know."  He placed his head on my chest and hugged
me tightly, not wanting me to see the tears welling up in his beautiful
brown eyes.  I stroked his black hair, thinking how lucky I was to have
such a beautiful, bouncing baby boy...ok, well, a bouncing 15 year old
boy...as my official son.  And he truly was beautiful.  Olive complexion,
black hair, huge soulful brown eyes, angular features, and a well-developed
body.  He was about my height, not having gone through his final growth
spurts yet.  I figure he would probably end up maxing out around 5'10" or
so, but I'll make sure it's 5'10" of healthy muscle.

	On our way home, Eric turned to me.  I knew what was coming, so
without a word from him I started.  "His name is Caleb.  He and I...well,
we have a complicated past."
	"Was he your lover?"
	"No.  Caleb...well, son..." It was the first time I ever called him
that, and his smile seemed like he had just witnessed a miracle. "...You
see, Caleb was a real asshole when I first met him.  He used several of my
friends."  I put an emphasis on `used'.
	"So, was he some Master or something, that kind of `use'?"  He
asked.
	"You shouldn't know that kind of stuff yet, kiddo."  I reprimanded.
	"Dad.  Really.  I'm 15.  Not 2.  I know the way things work.  And
the way you said "used" and called him an asshole, I just assumed he was
that type, you know, the type that fucks them and forgets them."
	"Well, yes Eric.  That's pretty close.  Although he didn't just use
them and forget them often.  He was cocky, cruel, and did not care about
the guys he would Dominate and have sex with.  He was the worst kind of
Dom.  You have to be aware that your sub is, in the end, a human.  They
have feelings, needs and desires just like anyone else."
	"That makes sense."
	"Ok.  So, back to Caleb.  To make a long story short, I locked him
in a steel chastity device..."  I glanced over at him, and saw him nod in
understanding.  "...which is this thing that..."
	"I know what a chastity device is Dad."  Eric giggled.
	"How?  You been paying that much attention to the boys?"
	"Well, yeah.  A couple of them are smoking hot, Dad.  You know
that."
	"Hmph.  Well, that's a discussion for another time.  Soon, but
another time."  I continued.  "Anyway, the reason I did was to teach him a
lesson.  I led him on that I had destroyed the keys, which I actually still
have them in my safe deposit box.  I hadn't heard from him for over a year
and a half.  I couldn't believe I saw him sitting on that sidewalk like
that..."  I sighed.  This is depressing.  I just realized that I did the
same thing to Caleb that he used to do to others.
	Eric saw my face and interrupted me.  "So, in the end, you treated
Caleb the same way as he treated all those other guys?  Except, you never
let him off the hook."
	I thought about that for a moment.  Eric is a smart one.  Very
smart.  "Yes son.  I did.  And I didn't realize the truth of it, until just
now.  I hope you don't think less of me.  Let's go to the bank, then go
home.  I have to get those keys."
	Eric just looked at me and smiled.  He reached over and put his
hand on my leg.  "I don't think less of you Dad, as a matter of fact
admitting it like you just did makes me think more of you.  I'm proud of
you Dad."

	What a wonderful son.  Definitely, one of my best decisions ever,
was to adopt this awesome kid.

	We stopped at my bank, grabbed the keys out of safe deposit, and
then went home.  When we got home, I saw Doc Jimmings' vehicle parked next
to my Dads Porsche.  I panicked, parked my car in the garage, and flew into
the house yelling for Dad.  He walked down the hall, calm look on his face,
and stopped me.
	"It's ok, son, he's ok.  I had Doc swing by on his way home to give
Caleb a good check-up.  The news is good so far.  I put him in your bed, I
hope that was ok."
	"Oh, yes, definitely.  I'm going to need to keep an eye on him for
a while, I imagine."
	"Go talk to Doc about it.  He will fill you in on what you need to
do.  Now...where's my grandson!"

	Eric came bouncing through the garage door and ran to Dad, giving
him a long, tight hug.  "That feels good to hear you say that...gramps!"
Eric giggled.
	"Why you little shit..."  My Dad started, but then burst out in
laughter.  I smiled as the two began wrestling around, then turned and
walked down the hall to my bedroom.  Doc Jimmings was packing his bag up,
looked up and smiled up at me.

	"Hello, Erin!  Good to see you!"  Doc exclaimed.
	"Hey, Doc!  Good seeing you too!"  I glanced down at Caleb, guilt
wracking my core and concern etched on my face.  "Is he going to be
alright?"  I tentatively asked.
	"Well, he's severely undernourished, and he was dehydrated.  We've
been giving him water, but when he wakes up, you need to start feeding him.
No huge meals to begin with.  Small ones, spaced at two hour intervals.
Other than that, I can see no huge problems."
	"He just looked so terrible, sitting there..."  I said miserably.
	"I gave him some sedatives to help him sleep for now.  It's a good
thing you found him.  Much longer like he was, and, well, let's not think
about that.  The point is, he's here now and you'll bring him back to
health."  Doc paused.  "Erin, not to be too personal, but that steel thing
on his dick..."  He nodded at the device.  "...that chastity device.  How
long has that been on?"
	"I can't say for sure, but I put it on him a year and a half ago
when I saw him last, so..."
	"Well, if we could at some point take it off."
	"Way ahead of you, Doc."  I stepped up, fished the keys out of my
pocket, unlocked the tube and removed it.  "That better?"
	Doc laughed a bit.  "Yeah.  Don't get me wrong.  I have nothing
against them.  As long as a guy exercises and massages their prostate, it's
not a health risk.  But I offered to remove it for him when he was still
mostly lucid, and he told me `no' and that `he put it on me, he wants it on
me, so leave it alone'.  I'm just curious about a few things.  You wouldn't
happen to know how big he was before, would you?"
	"He was average, about 5, 5 and a half.  Relatively thin."
	Doc was slowly caressing Caleb's dick.  It was soon full mast, to
which Doc took a small measuring tape out of his bag.  "Wow.  He's lost two
inches, if you were right.  He's just a hair under 3" hard now.  I had
heard that happens, that they shrink both flaccid and erect length, after
long lock ups."  He said with raised eyebrows.  I just looked at Caleb's
admittedly much smaller cock, and felt a stirring in my own.  I needed to
get that under control, as my cock is, well, monstrous when hard.  9.5"
when completely hard.  What can I say?  That little thing was actually kind
of cute, attached to the starved but still handsome man it was on.  The
juxtaposition of large, muscular guy with a small dick is intriguing.
Useless, but kind of cute.  Going to have to take care of this hardon I'm
sporting now.

	I went to the bed, pulled the covers up over Caleb, and Doc and I
left him to sleep.  We saw Doc off, after he told us what to do, what Caleb
needed, and told us to call him if there were concerns or problems.

	Now, to the matter at hand.  I was horny after looking at Caleb.
Even in his withered state, he was still sexy.  I'll get some nourishment
back in him and nurse him back to health, and he'll be that hot little
bottom bitch I turned out so long ago in no time.  But, gotta take care of
this wood first.  I called the agency, and had them send Sean over, and
told my assistant Chad to make sure he was wearing pink panties and black
lace top stockings for underwear.

	Sean, a 20 year old blond, is a walking contradiction.  He lives at
the agencies' housing (a few offices upstairs that I turned into flats).  I
just love hate-fucking his tight ass.  He says he's straight.  He
vehemently denies being attracted to guys.  But, when I get him on his
hands and knees, and I'm plowing away at his cunt, he's cooing like a bitch
in heat, actively bucking his hole back against me, and every so often
he'll let out a "Oh god, please Sir, please don't ever take it out..."

	I just mark it up to a serious case of denial.  Although I have
recently begun to believe that there is no such thing as `straight' or `bi'
or `gay', and that deep down there are only two types of men; whores and
Men that use whores, this is one boy I will gladly affix the later label
to.  It doesn't matter what he thinks he is.  What he wants is obvious, and
how he acts when he's getting it shows exactly what he is, inside.  He is a
true whore, in every sense of the word.

	Today I was going to reinforce that, in his mind.  It was time for
him to really take a look at himself.  He was a star performer for the
agency.  He had a very wealthy fan base among the clients, and usually
commanded a fee of $3000 per hour.  His body was delicious.  Ripped, not an
ounce of fat, perfect symmetry, snow white skin, completely smooth (He was
one of the first I paid to have lazer hair removal on), and a natural musk
that bordered on high school locker room funk.  The boy was just fucking
sex on legs.

	He arrived shortly, got out of his little Honda Civic, and strutted
up the walk to the door like he was a supermodel.  I opened the door and
let him in, then immediately ordered him to strip to his undies.  He
complied, placing a bag he was carrying on the floor, taking his shirt off
first, then bent down to remove his sneakers and unbuttoned his jeans,
sliding them down.

	Sean stood there in black boxers and white footie socks.  I just
glared at him.

	"Sir?  What's wrong?  I showered before..."
	"Weren't you told to change into panties and stockings?"
	"Well, yes Sir, and I brought them along to cha..."
	"I'll ask you again.  Were you, or were you not, told to wear
panties and stockings?"
	"Yes Sir.  That's why I brought them."  He beamed his smile and
pointed at the bag, like he was proud of listening and doing as told.  He's
hot.  But clueless.  One reason he lives at the agency...he's not bright
enough to be on his own.  Not that he's completely stupid, but he just
doesn't function quite as well as he should.  Classic dumb jock.
	"Sean.  You were told to wear them.  That means you should be
wearing them now."
	His face fell, and I think I saw his eyes get a bit misty, when he
realized he hadn't done as he was told.  "Oh.  May I change now then Sir?"
	"You better fucking change."  Then I flipped open my phone, called
Chad, and while Sean was pulling his underwear off half listening to me,
"Chad, go up to Sean's place.  Gather every last bit of men's underwear and
socks.  Bag it all up, and on your way home throw it all in a dumpster.
Then go online to xdress.com and order Sean enough panties and stockings so
he has fresh underwear daily.  I don't care what colors, just try to get
stuff that will look good together.  Ok.  Yes, pay for next day shipping.
Thanks Chad, have a good afternoon, and I'll be out until tomorrow."
	"Sir?"
	"What?"  I asked hotly.
	"Um...are you serious about that?  I mean, did you really call Chad
and tell him to do that?"  He asked, very timidly.
	In response, I grabbed his boxers and socks, walked to my kitchen,
got out the scissors, cut them up and threw them in the trash.  Then I
looked at him flatly and said "Yes.  Now get your pretty little pussy boi
ass to the living room, and bend over the couch."
	"But why Sir?"
	"Because I'm going to fuck you."  I said, exasperated.
	"No, I mean why are you having Chad take all my men's underwear
away?"
	"Oh for fucks sake Sean!  You didn't obey, and this isn't the first
time.  So, for punishment, that..."  I exclaimed, and pointed at his
stocking clad legs and lace clad crotch.  "Is all you're allowed to wear
for underwear from now on.  Clear?!?"
	He hung his head and stated clearly "Yes Sir.  I'm sorry Sir.  I
try to follow orders, but sometimes I just don't understand.  Please don't
be mad Sir, I like you as my boss and I want to keep my job."
	I sighed, then more patiently said "I know, Sean.  I know you get
confused sometimes.  But you're smart enough to follow orders, and that's
what I expect.  You do a good job, and we will work on your obedience
later, but right now I just want to fuck.  Now get your sissy ass over the
couch!"

	"Yes Sir!"  He exclaimed, then did as told.

	I spent the next hour fucking the snot, quite literally, out of
Sean.  He was an incoherent, blubbering mess by the time I was finished.
First I started with 15 minutes of deep dicking his twat, pulling all the
way out then ramming in to the base.  Then I pushed him down on the floor,
and rode his ass doggy style for a half hour.  Then, I got up, sat on the
couch and ordered him to ride me for a while.  After that, I pushed him off
me and he landed on his back, automatically pulling his legs up and out,
presenting his pussy, and I rammed back in and pile drove him until we were
both screaming in ecstasy.

	As I got up off him and pulled my bikini underwear back on, as he
laid there watching me while rubbing his crotch.  "Just what the fuck do
you think you are doing?"
	"I was going to jack off Sir, if that's ok?"
	"Permission denied.  You get your sexual satisfaction from your
pussy now, boy.  As of now, you are no longer allowed to touch your cock.
And you know what happens if I so much as suspect that you can't follow
that order."
	"Chastity device Sir?"  I nodded.  " But what about my clie..."
	"The ones that like to fuck you will stay yours.  The ones that
like to bottom will be reassigned to Nate.  Now, no more.  You have your
orders, do as you're told."
	"Yes Sir."
	"Now get your twat up and make yourself useful.  You'll be staying
here tonight, so start cleaning.  After that, you can make dinner.  Put
your panties back on, and keep the stockings on.  That's your new uniform."

	As he was struggling to get up, I added "Oh, and Sean."
	"Yes Sir?"
	"Don't even try to tell me you're `straight' again.  It's a big
fucking lie, and you know it.  You're one of the biggest pussies I've ever
met.  Only a whore presents their pussy for their Man, the way you do
automatically.  Think about that while you're doing your cleaning."

	"Yes Sir."  A slight tear formed in each eye, but he said no more
and walked off to the kitchen to start his cleaning duties.  After dealing
with the dumb jock, I was thoroughly exhausted.  I checked in on Eric, who
was in his room chatting with a friend of his online, so I told him I was
going to lie down and take a nap, but to check in on Sean from time to time
to make sure he was cleaning.  I also asked him to quietly wake me an hour
before dinner.  I didn't want to disturb Caleb if he was still sleeping
soundly.

	I went back into my bedroom and stood at the foot of the bed for a
few minutes, watching Caleb peacefully sleep.  I decided at that point, I
couldn't ever let him out of my sights again.  I felt horrible.  No, I felt
way worse than horrible.  I knew I wasn't directly responsible for the
state I found him in, but I knew I was, beyond a doubt, indirectly
responsible for it.  He could have died, and it would have been due to me.
That is just simply not acceptable, and I vowed to myself right then and
there that I would spend the rest of my life making it up to him.

	I slipped under the covers beside him quietly, not bothering to
take my underwear off, put my arm over him and my head on his shoulder, and
as I was falling asleep, I was beginning to formulate my plan on repairing
the damage I had done.


Author's Note

	I really want to thank everyone for all of the encouraging emails.
I hope everyone is enjoying the story so far.  Some chapters will have more
sex, others less, depending on how much I need to set up for the next
chapter, so if one chapter only has one fucking or oral scene, please don't
feel like I'm leaving you high and dry.  Truth be told, it's kind of hard
to take a story that was originally intended to be a two-part private work,
and then have to rewrite/branch out everything to include a future plot,
characters, etc, when it was all tied up to an ending previously.  I love
my readers however, so I try and accommodate what I can.  This is the last
time I will do this, however, as it's just too much work to reset the
stage, so to speak, especially when I have other projects I'm working on
(not to mention actually working for a living, and this time of year is
hella hectic for my profession).  I mention this because I've had numerous
queries to continue "Dude, Where's my Dick?", to which had a DEFINITIVE
ending.  I'm not trying to be rude, and again I love my readers, but my
fantasy is something that I'm sharing (as is with other writers), and it's
most often not open to negotiation.  IF you wish for me to add an element,
then email that to me, and I will try to work with it if I am able, but
please do not email me and ask me to take a story or my characters in a
specific direction.  I love you all, but that's not something I'm willing
to do.