Date: Wed, 3 Sep 2003 03:07:55 -0700 (PDT)
From: Niftyguy <niftyguy_30307@yahoo.com>
Subject: My Summer Job, Chapter Sixteen

Warning: the following story contains graphic descriptions of sex between
consenting adult males. If you are underage or do not wish to read such
materials, read no further.  If you have any feedback, please drop me a
line at niftyguy_30307@yahoo.com

Thanks a lot to all of the guys who have written.  I appreciate the
encouragement.

Note: Each new chapter in this series assumes the reader has read the
preceding chapters.

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I'm far away, far from where and when I am. Even though I am still here and
now, I'm somewhere out of time and space.  Always and never.  Nowhere and
everywhere.  Here and there and then and now. But slowly, faintly,
imperceptibly at first, then just a bit stronger, the hooks of holy shit
gravity sink into fingers and toes and begin to reel me in, pulling me back
to myself and here and now.  I'm passing stars and planets and dust and gas
and a big rocky moon that is shining bright when I turn my head to look and
then through the clouds faster above the water and over the mountains and
into the trees and along a path and here we are in front of the door and
then inside tucked away and hidden under a clean sheet.

When I woke up, I reached out and touched Sam.  Before his skin had been
cold and clammy.  Now it was warm and dry.  But he didn't stir in response
to my touch.  I guess that he was asleep, though I really don't know how.
Maybe he was just pretending.  I had tossed and turned for a couple of
hours, drifting into and out of unconsciousness.  Lying there, the smell of
leather and hay and saddle soap and horses comforted me, both when I was
asleep and, especially, when I was awake.  These were all things that were
honest and real, qualities that were sometimes in short supply.

Sam and I had made it to the stable.  We needed someplace, I suppose
someplace to hide.  And someone to help, someone we could trust.  I hoped
that Eric Cantwell, Idlewild's groom, would be that person.  He looked
surprised when, clad only in his boxer shorts, he opened the door to his
quarters next to the stable at, what time was it?  One in the morning?
Two?  God only knows.  When I knocked, I didn't really care.

"Mike, what the hell are you doing here?" Eric squinted his bleary eyes at
the watch strapped around his brawny wrist.  "Do you have any idea what
time it is?"

"I, I, not really," I stammered.  "Look, Eric, is there anyplace here that
we, a friend of mine and I, can stay tonight?"

Eric looked puzzled.  "A friend?  Why can't you just go back to your room?"
He furrowed his brow and looked from side to side.  "And where's your
friend?  I don't see anybody but you."

"He's. . . not really presentable.  He's just down the path."  I paused and
took a deep breath.  "Look, can I trust you?  Some people might be looking
for us, and you can't tell them that we're here.  Can we just stay here
tonight?"

Eric hesitated for only a second before nodding.  "I can put you in the
little tack room.  Nobody will find you there; I'll make sure of that."

"I won't forget this," I said, sincerely grateful.  "Just give me a second.
I'll be right back."

I quickly retraced my steps back into the woods, intent on getting Sam
inside and out of sight with the least possible delay.  I don't think that
I took a real breath until we were in the clean, orderly stable, following
Eric to a small room that was full of equipment.  He gave me a stack of
clean bedding, and he gave Sam a quick once-over.  I could tell that he was
shocked at Sam's disheveled, vacant appearance, not to mention the fact
that he was naked save for a blanket thrown around his shoulders, but he
didn't presume to ask any questions, at least at that point.

"I hope you guys will be comfortable in here.  Let me know if there's
anything you need."  I nodded at Eric, and he was gone.

It didn't take me long to make up a rudimentary bed.  Almost mechanically,
Sam got under the covers and curled up, turned away from me.  I slipped in
next to him and cupped my body against his, trying to warm him, body and
soul.  As I lay there, images that had burned through me like x-rays kept
bubbling to the surface, no matter how hard I tried to push them away.

I had followed Sam, Rich, and the third man, whom I did not recognize,
through the woods.  I was careful not to get too close, so that they would
neither see nor hear me.  It was my good fortune that there was a full moon
illuminating the world as it was, since I did not have a flashlight to
shine on the path.  I suppose that I wouldn't have been able to use it even
if I had had one, lest I attract attention to myself.  Our little
clandestine caravan eventually skirted the meadow that stretched behind the
stable and approached the small stone house that was hidden in the trees.
I watched as the three of them went inside and then slowly crept up to the
house.

Voices.  I could hear voices inside.  More than three, though I could not
tell how many there were.  Crouching down below a window, I desperately
wanted to hoist myself up and peer inside, but it seemed too dangerous.  My
heart pounded as minutes ticked by while I waited, frozen.  And then, there
was light.  From the basement window ten feet away, partially hidden by
bushes, giving me cover as I crept closer and closer.  Wriggling forward on
my belly, I moved into place to watch.  To watch the show.

Picture this.  A procession of maybe a dozen men, dressed in long, dark
robes, each carrying a small box.  Then come two more men, wheeling in a
table, on which a clean white sheet covers something, or someone.  And then
one more robed man, striding with the power that he obviously possesses.

The twelve sit on chairs that flank the room.  The two at the table watch
and wait.  The one mounts the platform at the end of the room, throws off
the robe, and reveals himself to be Richard Gray.  He takes his seat on the
chair that is clearly his, and all eyes are on him, on his body that is the
expression of his male power.  His chest is naked and beautiful, and even
now I want to run my fingers across the furry muscles that I have felt
before.  I can feel my own cock start to harden as my eyes follow the dark
trail that snakes across his rippling stomach, only to disappear into the
leather pouch that encases what I know to be a cock that can reduce me to
quivering jelly, and balls that can pump me full of sticky fluid.  He is
sitting there, on that big chair, legs clad in laced leather chaps and
spread wide, daring everyone not to look at what he is showing for all to
see.

And then he nods at the men standing by the table, signaling them to begin
their work.  As one walks to the wall and presses a switch, causing a
harness to descend from the ceiling, the other pulls back the sheet,
revealing the naked figure of Sam.  My friend is neither awake nor asleep,
but somewhere in between.  Although his eyes are partially closed, as if in
a trance, his body slowly moves to and fro, like he is in the middle of a
feverish and very wet dream, causing his shiny erection to sway lewdly.
All that restrains him are the leather straps that attach his wrists and
ankles to the cold steel of the table.  Very quickly, the two attendants
release him, lift him up, and position him in the sling, where they buckle
him in securely.  My Sam is now hanging from the ceiling, splayed wide
open, gently swinging as he slowly writhes with pleasure or pain.

Richard Gray smiles as he takes in the scene in front of him.  He is Master
of this particular Universe.  He stands up.

"You want the Power, my friends," he says, scanning the faces of those who
watch him.  "And you know that I have the Power.  I'm going to tell you
tonight that you will only have the Power when you are prepared to take it
from where it is, and use it for yourself."  As he talks, Richard Gray
begins to release the snaps that hold the leather pouch closed. "And what I
have here, my friends, is true Power."

With that, he releases the final snap, allowing his cock to swing free.
The unnatural confinement has prevented the meaty organ from reaching its
true size, and it hangs heavily over the swollen balls, pausing like an
animal that has just emerged from sleep.  Sensing freedom, though, it
begins to grow, thickening and lengthening, protruding out from the nest of
dark hair at its root.  This cock acts like it has a mind of its own, like
it's sniffing the air, trying to find a target, like it's a predator in
search of prey.

Richard Gray walks around the room, circling the harness, showing the
source of his power to all.  All eyes are transfixed by the fat column of
flesh, as thick as a man's wrist, as long as a hot summer night that you
don't want to end, but aren't sure you can bear.  The leather clad high
priest who controls this awesome tool of pleasure and pain obviously enjoys
the heavy feeling as it swings from side to side, intimidating and exciting
every witness.

"Cock gives you power, cock gives you control, cock is what they crave,
cock is what they'll beg to get, cock is the drug that creates and takes
away all of their pain" he intones as he circles closer and closer around
Sam's suspended body.

Despite Sam's detached state, he seems to be aware of the bobbing organ
that is approaching nearer and nearer.  Every time Richard Gray passes
Sam's head, my friend twists and turns in that direction, his mouth clearly
seeking flesh.  Maybe he is responding to the scent of sex that is surely
filling the room.  Although Sam's eyes are still half-closed, he clearly
becomes more and more agitated, craving contact with what his tormentor is
keeping just out of reach.  As Gray continues to stalk his target, he nods
once more at the two attendants.  One goes to a small cabinet and returns
with a bottle of lubricant that he begins to apply to Sam's exposed ass.
The other reaches up and pulls down three small clamps that dangle from a
trio of thin chains that feed up and over their respective pulleys.  At the
end of each chain is a small weight.  One by one, each clamp is attached to
Sam's foreskin, holding his rigid cock vertical, and stretching the fleshy
hood up and out, forming some sort of perverted cup, a vessel for what
would be an unholy communion.

Richard Gray pauses at Sam's ass and looks around the room.  "Each of you
has brought an offering, taken in pleasure, and offered in sweet pain.  It
is almost time for you to make that offering and receive your due."  Slowly
he begins to trace around Sam's puckered flesh with his fat thumb, causing
my friend, suspended from the ceiling and overcome by lust, to gyrate his
buttocks in a vain attempt to secure release.  Even from my vantage point,
I can see that the sensitive skin is flushed a dark red, and I know that it
is burning hot.  Sam visibly flinches as the thick digit pushes through the
tight ring, but it does not appear to offer much relief, even when it is
completely buried.  For a long minute, Richard Gray just stands there and
looks down at what is his for the taking.  His cock is jerking and
twitching like a horse that is eager to run a race.  Finally, he extracts
his thumb and places his cock head at the pulsating orifice.

"It's time."

One by one, the twelve onlookers stand up and make their way over to where
their leader is on the verge of performing a ritual sacrifice.  As he
pushes through, impaling Sam and causing him to thrash around, the twelve
each open the small boxes that they are carrying.  One by one, they each
extract a rubber sheath that is full of sticky fluid.  One by one, they
each tear the reservoir tip off and squeeze the slimy contents onto Richard
Gray's pistoning cock, lubricating it as it plumbs the depths of Sam's
butt.  The thick organ serves as a giant needle that delivers the pungent
offerings deep into the darkest recesses of Sam's body.

At first, Richard Gray is willing to just stand there and swing his hanging
target back and forth, bouncing him to and fro on a rigid pole.  Sam is
powerless to stop the relentless exploration of his deepest recesses, an
exploration made possible by a monster tool of flesh and blood, something
more punishing than anything science could devise.  Even from my distance,
I can see that Sam is being stretched to unnatural limits by the assault of
his tormentor's shiny erection, but it isn't clear that he is begging for
the invasion to end.  In front of all of these people, he seems to be
finding a way for pleasure to outweigh his pain.

Richard Gray nods at one of his fiendish assistants and simultaneously
steadies the harness.  I watch as Gray's strong glutes clench in time with
his deep thrusts into my friend's bowels.  What in God's name is about to
happen?  I don't have to wait long to find out.  There, in front of my
eyes, the depraved assistant grabs Sam's left nipple with one hand and a
long needle with the other.  I have a sinking feeling, and Sam begins to
thrash around.  Very quickly, the tender pink skin is pierced and the tiny
metal barbell is inserted.  A thin trickle of blood snakes across Sam's
pec.  Simultaneously, Gray increases his tempo, and my poor Sam is pushed
in two directions, one of pain and one of unbelievable pleasure that comes
from being filled to the bursting point, again and again, by the enormous
erection.

I don't think that Sam has the energy to resist.  He goes limp as he gives
himself over to the impending orgasm that he is just beginning to
experience.  He struggles a bit against his restraints as the white, pearly
cum shoots out of his slit, filling his distended foreskin to the brim.
Richard Gray, watching the display in front of him, smiles as he buries
himself deep inside, depositing his burning semen.

I am spent, and I watch numbly as one by one, they all come to dip their
tongues into the pool of sticky sperm that Sam's body offered.  I hope that
they will release him now that their perverted ritual is complete, but they
all just file out, leaving my friend suspended, his ordeal continuing.  I
test the window.  It is not locked.  I'm going to get him out.