Date: Tue, 5 Aug 2008 23:33:21 -0500
From: George Gauthier <georgegauthier@verizonmail.com>
Subject: Track and Field 3

					Track and Field 3
					by GGDC

Author's Note: This is a tale of how a young college student's abject
surrender to stronger males who use him to gratify their unnatural
lusts. It is set seven or eight decades in the future where STDs are
completely under control, nudity taboos are almost absent from social life,
and medical advances have extended the human life span to several
centuries. The USA is fully on the metric system.

It contains graphic descriptions of the male human body, of consensual and
non-consensual sexual activity between adult males, the youngest of whom is
eighteen years old, i.e. above the age of consent, and some light bondage
and discipline. The use of words or terms like 'boy', 'teen', 'youth' etc,
are purely to identifying gender and are not meant to imply that the
characters are below age.

If any of this would offend a reader, read no further. This is not intended
for persons younger than an age where they may freely and legally select
their reading matter in whatever jurisdiction that applies.

It is offered for entertainment. If it manages to both amuse and to provoke
prurient interest, it will have succeeded in its aim. Writing this tale has
been the most fun the author has had wearing clothes in a very long time,
well since parts one and two.

It is entirely fictional, with no resemblance intended to any person living
or dead.

Before you ask, this is the third and last tale in a three story
arc. Readers who like these stories might also try my 'Jungle Boy' stories
in the Gay/Authoritarian section of the Archive. My 'Daphne Boy' stories
and a separate story 'Naked Prey' are in the Gay/Historical section.

Comments and feedback welcome.

				Chapter 1. Toujours le Choupinou

The lithe American youth followed a dirt road as it dipped into a swale in
the low mountains of Haiti. He ran in the relative cool of early morning,
not that it was ever really cool in Haiti. Just as well he was nude. He
wiped sweat off his face with his arm and ignored the dust he raised as he
ran on. It didn't matter how much dust settled on his bare flanks anyway
and got streaked with sweat He would shower afterwards.

The tropical climate here was even warmer these days, a dozen years from
the end of the twenty-first century, thanks to global warming. The down
slope leveled off. Soon the blond youth was leaning forward into the climb
up the next ridge, arms pumping with the effort, slender legs pushing
powerfully. He ran past the slopes planted just yesterday with seedlings of
fast growing trees. The reforestation program in the low mountains of Haiti
was making good progress, thanks to careful monitoring and quality
control. That is where Kyle came in.

Still two months short of nineteen after his sophomore year in college,
Kyle was working his second summer as a civilian aide for the UN sponsored
reforestation of the bare slopes that had for so long been Haiti's
environmental shame. In time the new forest would restore the watershed to
control erosion and silting, provide timber and firewood, and help this
poor country assume a more dignified place in the family of nations.

Twice he passed parties of young men and boys already heading toward the
areas to be planted this day. They waved to the young American clad only in
a sheen of sweat, as he loped along at a pace that really ate up the
kilometers. A talented runner, Kyle was into track and field in college and
conscientiously maintained his training regime during the summer. The
sunlight glistened on a slender utterly hairless physique drenched in sweat
and streaked with dust, blond locks plastered to his brow.

As he neared the base camp, the naked youth poured it on ignoring the way
his unsupported dangly bits bounced about. That came with the
territory. All competitors -- males anyway -- went naked and barefoot these
days in track and field and in aquatic sports, soccer too. He dropped to a
trot then a walk during the last half click to cool down.

The young men and boys at the base camp gazed appreciatively at the young
runner. Already past his growth spurt, he clearly he would never be taller
than his current slight stature: only 168 centimeters (five and one half
feet). He had flagged a bit there at the end. It can be hard to pack away
energy stores in a frame that carried only 56 kilos (122 pounds),
especially for a runner who had a surprisingly strong upper storey. His
body fat percentage had to be in the single digits. Kyle was a bit too
muscular to be called skinny, but he was boyishly slender.

He was their favorite 'mec � poil' or guy in his birthday suit. His
physical beauty was extraordinary. Kyle was tanned, taut, and toned, with
incredible muscular definition. He was pretty as a girl, his features
delicate almost elfin with a straight nose and green eyes topped by a blond
thatch.

No one expected the young American to put on a pair of pants like the rest
of the crew. In fact all his clothes had been confiscated so he would spend
the whole summer entirely nude. Kyle had come back voluntarily for a second
summer knowing full well that, like last year, he would be the camp mascot,
their 'joli choupinou' their pretty pet or twinkie boy.

This season the assistant manager Fran�ois hadn't even waited till they
got to the camp. At their warehouse in the capital he simply told Kyle to
hand over all his clothes including those he had arrived in. They would be
kept in storage at the warehouse. Kyle tried to protest. Sure he liked to
run around in the nude, but shouldn't that be his call? The tall Haitian
grabbed Kyle and kissed him roughly, putting his hands all over him,
overwhelming him with his strength and virility. The boy felt his
resistance crumble at the rough treatment from the black man. Fran�ois
came on so strong and masculine, his manly odor so overwhelming, his
personality so assertive and commanding. Kyle was aroused, his pulse
pounded at his temples; he got weak in the knees, trembling with lust.

Little Kyle was a sexual submissive, small and passive. All the American
youth could do was stand there passively, whimpering a soft "please" which
Fran�ois deliberately mistook for assent. He ripped the trembling boy's
T shirt apart and shoved his loose shorts down to his ankles rendering him
naked in two seconds, bringing a gasp from the dismayed youth. It had
happened so quickly, one minute a young man, the next a stripped boy, and
he had just let it happen, just standing there as the tall Haitian stripped
away not only his clothing but his manliness, just like last year, reducing
him to a naked slut boy. Fran�ois put his foot on the jumble of shorts
and flip flops and made Kyle step out of them. Then to emphasize the
lesson, he tore the shorts and flip flops apart, and threw everything in
the trash.

The boy hung his head and offered no further resistance to Fran�ois or
the virile use he made of his so much less manly self. Falling into his
familiar submissive role, he let himself be turned around and bent over a
rough crate and accepted a preliminary spanking and then a forceful
shag. Fran�ois thrust into the submissive boy, taking possession of the
lad with his manly cock, emphasizing his renewed status as a fuck toy,
small, naked, hairless, complaisant.

The tall Haitian then had driven Kyle to camp in a truck with the boy
entirely naked in the passenger seat, with Fran�ois occasionally toying
with his manhood, rubbing his thumb over the sensitive head or squeezing
the orbs. They passed a big truck whose driver looked amused at little
Kyle, who in his shame parted his slender legs and tucked his manhood
between. With his thighs pressed together, it disappeared from view,
rendering him suddenly sexless. Kyle's face burned as he stared straight
ahead, trying to ignore the trucker who simply shook his head as he watched
them drive past.

The young American aide thus arrived at camp already plucked and fucked,
provoking general delight and good hearted greetings for the popular boy,
the pretty white lad, the plucked chicken, who was so obligingly placing
himself at their disposal once again. And like the first season, this
second tour of duty was proving be an exciting summer for the over-sexed
teenager.

As mascot, Kyle's role each evening was to entertain the lucky winners of
the nightly drawing among the several hundred males in the camp who sought
his sexual favors. They would show up at his tent every evening in twos or
threes and never took no for an answer. As the only 'blanc' in the camp,
Kyle was alone, outnumbered, surrounded, tired from a full day's work, and
already nude, not to mention being small in stature, slender, beardless,
and hairless everywhere, hardly in a position then to assert his
masculinity. But his suitors were and they did. There was not much the boy
could do except submit as they bent him over or put down on his knees or on
all fours, as he surrendered himself for their sexual pleasure.

Kyle was deeply submissive, so last year, when this mascot business got
started, he hadn't resisted very long then yielded to the importuning of
the young men in the crew. He was, after all, no blushing virgin. Although
not quite eighteen at the time and looking younger, he was an experienced
bottom both in casual encounters or with his three
roommate-lovers. Besides, hadn't he been really been asking for it, running
around perpetually nude, bending over to plant seedlings or to inspect
their work, taut brown rump in the air and genitals hanging freely between,
crinkly anal ring visible in his hairless cleavage. Carrying on like the
worst kind of cock tease. That was why, almost before he knew it, he was
turned into a sex toy for the whole crew.

Truth is Kyle got terribly turned on when he was helpless and outnumbered
as their hard black flesh took his white boy body for their toy. Like him
they were all lean and muscular but from hard work and a simple diet. Their
dark flesh looked so exciting against his much lighter tones. Their
strength made him nearly swoon with the frisson of his own helplessness and
vulnerability. He had surrendered himself servilely into their power, so
yes, let them bend him over or throw his legs up in the air, or spread him
like a wishbone. Isn't that what bottomless boys like Kyle were born for?
It all made him feel incredibly slutty.

Only that one time last year had he made even a feeble gesture of
protest. The camp manager M. Malherbe and Kyle's Haitian counterpart
Fran�ois had listened impatiently to Kyle's mild whining over the
liberties the men were taking with him and the way they humiliated him as
part of the foreplay.

"Dr�le de choupinou" Silly twinkie boy.

Fran�ois had simply taken the smaller male by the arm and laid 'le
petit', the little one, over the back of a chair. With a sharp command of
�carte-toi, the young Haitian told the boy to spread 'em while he tied
his wrists and ankles to the legs and crossbars. The boy had enough sense
not to resist this latest indignity, a deep sigh at his helplessness the
last sign of feeble resistance. Bent over, tied hand and foot, tight rump
in the air, a hand squeezing his tackle, thumbs stretching his anus,
lubricating his orifice with a bit of hair gel, the small youth would have
to take his punishment for getting uppity. Who did he think his boy holes
belonged to anyway? The manager let Fran�ois spank the boy with his
strong right hand then himself took a strap to his rump. Then they both
fucked the last embers of rebellion out of him.

As they saw it, the blond's servitude was a way of righting the balance: a
reversal of historical roles as the 'rich white boy' from America served as
a virtual sex slave for the native blacks.

The new camp was in a different section of the mountains, but that was not
the only difference from last year. His new tent was larger but there were
no walls, just mosquito netting. Last year the netting had enclosed only
his cot. This year Kyle would have no privacy at all whether for sleeping
or for sex play. His nude body would always be visible to anyone in the
camp. Along one side of the tent was a platform raised to waist height,
with a queen size futon on top. It was large enough and sturdy enough for
several males at a time to disport themselves with Kyle.

"Now here is something quite special mon petit," Francois said, lifting a
tarp.

It revealed a low rectangular table, feet anchored in the ground, with a
strange metal contraption screwed onto the top that could only be described
as a fuck machine. Its base was made from three steel bars bolted to the
surface, the long one in the middle with two cross pieces centered at the
ends. Cuffs for hands and ankles were attached to the ends of the cross
pieces. A metal collar was fixed atop a post up front. It had padding for
the knees and elbows.

"Oh no!" Kyle groaned. "Don't tell me I'm going to get fucked in that
thing."

"Exactly. Why don't we try it out?"

"With ten guys watching us, Fran�ois?"

"Why not? Surely you cannot be shy."

Apprehensive and wondering how he got himself into these fixes, Kyle got
into position on all fours, knees and elbows on the table, trembling while
Francois locked him into the machine, first the ankles, then the wrists,
and finally the neck. Now he was utterly helpless and vulnerable, his legs
spread apart, his manhood dangling forlornly between his slender thighs,
cleavage and bunghole exposed to view. Fran�ois stroked the boy's sides
and ass appreciatively. He was such a slender youth, firmly muscled, with
narrow hips and taut buttocks. So submissive too, climbing up onto the fuck
frame without further objection, laying his trembling limbs into the steel
restraints, biting his lower lip apprehensively as the steel circlets were
locked in place, squeezing his eyes shut as the last circlet snapped shut
around his neck.

It felt so good to run his hands over the chevrons of the lad's ribs then
up the bumps of his spine. That fine taut rump of his was made to be
spanked and fucked. Spanking turns the cheeks red, suggestive of arousal,
and sets the buttocks to trembling, waiting for the next slap with an open
hand. First though Fran�ois would fucked Kyle in the mouth. The boy
looked so good down there, fixed in place, head level with Fran�ois'
groin, looking up apprehensively, pouty lips around the Haitian's black
cock, surrounding it with a velvet warmth.

Fran�ois saw a string of pre-cum dangling from the boy's cock confirming
the boy's own arousal. He leaned forward to feel Kyle's ass, letting his
fingers slip into the cleavage. Just as he expected the randy lad's hole
was twitching open, just begging to be filled. The Haitian slipped a finger
inside, then two. Kyle moaned, surrendering himself to the good feelings
coursing though him as the Haitian came and filled his mouth with his manly
gism. He swallowed all of it obediently. A while later, Kyle's ass got a
prolonged reaming out with Fran�ois screwing into him, thrusting,
probing, and prodding. The boy's cock was rigid against his belly as the
Haitian reached under and took it in his strong right hand. Then the older
male stiffened as his cock shot his seed deep into the boy. He quickened
his stroking of Kyle's cock, bringing them both off together.

Afterwards, Fran�ois released the boy, pleased with the fuck machine's
baptism of service. Kyle stood up, a bit unsteady on his feet and accepted
a big hug from the Haitian, though feeling humiliated as cum slid out of
his hole and down his inner thighs. At least it had only been Fran�ois
this first time. The onlookers had not joined in. Kyle sighed, suspecting
he would spend a lot of each evening in the fuck machine or in his large
bed, servicing the men in groups just like the previous summer. Francois
ignored the boy's embarrassment. It was obvious from the enthusiastic way
he shot his cum how intensely the whole experience turned on their sexy
little choupinou. After all, he had volunteered for this.

That evening, Kyle and the first group of suitors got to try out the big
futon. Kyle was in heaven, once again getting a gang bang from enthusiastic
young Haitians. Hands were all over him, holding him, turning him over,
spreading his legs like a wishbone. He loved the feel of their hard
muscular bodies, thrilled to their scents, shivered with excitement as they
threw his legs up and penetrated his ass while another young man filled his
mouth with a black cock. They all took the boy at least twice. The finale
found Kyle on his back, folded in half, his own cock pointing at his mouth
as two men held his legs apart with another stroking his cock. Two more
were at his head ready to splooge on his face at the same time he did. All
he could do is call out inarticulately as his totally aroused body cut
loose with shot after shot matched by the two black men. Afterwards, the
totally spent boy slumped back as helpful fingers brought the shots that
went astray to his tongue, letting him slurp the gism from all three of
them at once.

				Chapter 2. The Germans

A few days later Kyle was walking to a new planting area. He was alone
since the crews were already at work there. A large late model Land Rover,
pulled up to him to ask directions. The two gentlemen in the car, both
handsome and in their mid-twenties, were surprised to find a naked white
boy trudging along the road. After starting out the conversation in French,
they switched to English when they learned Kyle was American.

"Oh, I'm with the reforestation project. I check to make sure the seedlings
are put in right like the right mix of species, the right distance apart,
at the right depth, and so forth."

"Vell, I can see" the bigger one began in slight German accent, "you have
that planting tool hanging from your wrist but why no clothes?"

"Well I run competitively in track in college so I'm always naked in races
and in training. We don't wear much around the dorm either at at
college. Besides, in this tropical heat, clothes aren't much use."

Indeed Kyle's water bottle and straw hat were what he needed to cope with a
climate made hotter by global warming. As Kyle also pointed out, it was
easy to get dusty or muddy out here, but also quite easy to wash it off,
sometimes just by standing in the frequent rain showers. No laundry or
worry about being caught out in the rain either. Not when you were nude
anyway.

The two men, Karl Stern and Horst Mueller, gave him a lift to the worksite,
having Kyle sit right between them. Karl drove with one arm over the boy's
shoulders. Horst's hands rested on or stroked the boy's smooth thighs. Upon
arrival, the Germans got an impromptu tour of the operation. As Kyle guided
them around, they clapped him on his shoulder and patted him on the back
though soon their busy hands slid down to his shapely rump. Kyle welcomed
their attentions. More suitors then. Should he be surprised?

The two handsome Germans complimented Kyle on his fine physique, almost the
Aryan ideal: slender, blond, handsome, though rather short. Horst rather
liked Kyle's smooth look, not a hair anywhere on his body, not even at the
fork of his legs. He thought the boys shapely genitals looked better for
being so visible.

Kyle told him that his family, the Kretchmers, was originally from
Schleswig, a borderland that was sometimes part of Germany or part of
Denmark. He had both strains in his blood line. That no doubt explained his
blond hair and green eyes.

"Ach, a young Viking then!"

They laughed. Kyle really must visit them at the rubber plantation they had
just bought some twenty kilometers away. Could they send a car for him on
his next break? Kyle said he would like that. Yes he could get away for the
long weekend coming up.

"What should I bring for three days and two nights? I don't have any
clothes to wear. What you see is what you get."

"Not a problem. Just bring yourself. You won't need anything else. We are
very casual away from the homeland; no one will expect you to dress for
dinner." Mueller answered with a wink, looked pointedly at the young
American's nakedness.

In that case, if they didn't mind, go ahead and send directions to his comp
via email. Kyle could just run over at dawn. It would be part of his
training. He could be at their place by eight a.m. Fine but then they
should drive him back the last morning before his shift started. That way
he could spend three nights with them. So it was agreed.

Came the day and and Kyle drank his fill of cool water and left camp with
the dawn. He would eat breakfast with his hosts. After an uneventful run,
Karl Stern saw him trot through their gate.

"My, my the way you look my young friend, all sweaty and breathing hard
like that, it's simply wunderbar, like you just had terrific sex!"

"As I am sure we shall see for ourselves soon enough, Karl," Muller pointed
out.

Kyle took a quick shower under a stand outdoors making a show of it to
display his lithe form, then sat down to a hearty breakfast on their patio,
not one of those snacks that passed for a morning meal on the
Continent. After the long run, he needed fuel. The two Germans then showed
him around the place, the workers looking delightedly at the pretty white
boy, completely nude and shameless about it.

With oil running out, natural rubber was the coming thing. Always better
quality rubber than the synthetic product, natural rubber from countries
that had the right climate and the lowest transport costs to markets in
North America were ideal for the new plantations springing up. In their own
way, the German investors would be reclaiming worn out lands and turning
them into a productive asset for this country and for its people, one that
would earn foreign exchange to pay for higher technology imports.

For their part, the two young Germans expected not only to make a lot of
money but also to live well. Servants were prohibitively expensive back
home but in the Third World amazingly cheap. They were conscientious
employers too, not simply trying to exploit poor jobless folk. The days of
blatant exploitation were over. They were delighted Kyle would be staying
with him. They hoped he would visit again if they made a good impression on
him.

"We hope you don't think it presumptive of us not to assign you a separate
room?" After all, he would not be changing clothes and had brought nothing
with him, not even a toothbrush. And he would be sleeping in their big bed,
wouldn't he?

"Of course," Kyle laughed stepping forward into a triple embrace.

That settled, his hosts asked their young guest would they be presuming if
they did not wait till the evening. Could they all go upstairs together.

"Like right now?"

Kyle readily assented though he was quite surprised when Muller threw him
over his shoulder slapping his ass, taking the steps two at a time. Purely
for form's sake, playing the damsel in distress, Kyle kicked ineffectually
and pounded his fists lightly on his captor's back, laughing the whole
way. Stern rushed ahead to open the door to their large but simply
furnished bedroom and to pull back the sheets. The next few hours were
everything they had hoped for.

Kyle was a joy to behold and quite talented in bed for one of his
years. His youth and slenderness was emphasized by a smooth and utterly
hairless physique. Like many young guys these days, he had used the
standard depilatory cream which meant a lifetime of never having to shave
his face or anywhere else including down there. He was slender yet
muscular, tanned, taut and toned with strong shoulders, well defined
abdominal muscles, and narrow hips. His hands were small and his legs well
muscled with veins prominent under the skin because of his low body fat. No
hair interrupted the flow of his faultless lines.

His sex was in proportion with a smooth cock, foreskin concealing the head,
the scrotum the size of a large peach but with the divided curvature of a
plum and held close to the belly.  How nice too that his genitals didn't
look all shriveled up like with so many guys. His cock was smooth not
gnarly with purple veins. Yes, like Europeans he still had his foreskin; it
reached just past the tip of his cock head. Cock and balls were reasonably
large but he wouldn't be scaring the horses. It took both his small hands
to cover his erection, but only one when it was soft.

"Which is just fine when you were running cross country bare ass with your
dangly bits bouncing about," Kyle explained to his hosts.

"Really, why had anyone bothered to invent the athletic supporter in the
first place? It's not like you could shake things loose" he added.

The two Europeans found the young American a delight in bed and out of
it. Completely uninhibited, shameless wasn't he. Kyle related how he had
arrived at the work camp already naked, after being roughly stripped naked
and his clothing torn apart. The rest of his garments in this country were
confiscated and put in storage in the capital. They were a bit shocked when
it emerged during their conversation that he surrendered himself nightly to
the attentions of the young Haitians. As the sex toy for the whole crew, he
figured he got fucked at least a hundred times a week.

"A hundred times a week?"

"At least that many times, probably more. Sometimes my hole burns like I
have hemorrhoids or something."

Actually Kyle had not intended to share such confidences, not on a first
date anyway, but it is hard to be discreet about one's sexual adventures
when you were lying in bed with two studs one of whom still had his cock up
your ass and the other had sagged back on the pillows leaving his copious
ejaculate in your mouth for the third time in a couple of hours, some of
which was dribbling down your chin while your own semen coated your chest
and belly. Intimacy like that tends to encourage frankness. To overcome the
youth's last bit of reticence, Karl put the boy in a half nelson rendering
him helpless while Horst tickled him mercilessly until he confessed
everything. Even after he told all, the big German gleefully tickled the
boy until he was reduced to helpless laughter, tears in his eyes. The
German's had early on spotted Kyle's weakness. He was ticklish.

His hosts were hardly surprised they were not the first to poke at his rear
entrance, but what could they do but congratulate the randy boy on his wide
circle of acquaintance.  Purely out of their concern for his health, his
hosts inspected that area carefully, fingering the anal ring to see if
there was the least evidence of injury. Fortunately not.

After that it was Kyle's turn to attend to their bung holes, rimming them,
sniffing at their nether orifices and smooching their anal rings. You
really knew you were a shameless bottom boy when you were licking a man's
asshole, kissing his anus, then sticking your tongue up his chute, poking
it in and out. Isn't it something only a hopelessly servile boy would do?

Kyle had heard some submissive boys even accepted stinking turds from the
anus of a master, chewing each thoroughly then swallowing them with a piss
chaser. Kyle knew he wasn't ready to go that far, not by a long shot,
submissive boy though he was. Yes, a few times he had been swallowed a
guy's urine, even been pissed on by the team in high school as an
initiation. But serving as a a urinal, much less as a toilet was as yet
beyond his experience, and he hoped it would remain so.

Well there was no hurry. Kyle had a long time ahead of him to indulge in
sexual exploration and experimentation, several centuries really. It's not
like he was getting any older. Kyle and the two Germans had benefited from
advances in the understanding of obscure structures called telomeres in
chromosomes. The genes of their embryos had been tweaked before
implantation in the wombs that bore them. They would spend the next three
or four centuries youthful, hardly aging at all until the very end. They
could sow wild oats for decades. The same gene therapy also protected them
against all forms of cancer.

It would be some time before all social classes even in the advanced
countries enjoyed extended life spans much less the people of what was
still one of the poorest nations on earth. This created social tensions
within and between nations, and had profound demographic, economic, and
social implications. Both secularists and religious people were grappling
with the moral implications for the species, but most people realized that
the beneficiaries were not themselves to blame for benefiting first.

					Chapter 3. Dieter

It was three weeks before Kyle could get away again for a visit and after
that not till the end of his tour when he had six nights free before his
voyage home by fast sea ferry. He was surprised to find Karl and Horst
leaving for a business trip to the capital, something that couldn't
wait. Terribly disappointing for everyone, but why not stay? Cousin Dieter
would act as host till they go back.

Dieter was a bit older, in his early thirties and ruggedly
handsome. Outwardly he was polite and, no, as guest host, he did not expect
Kyle to share his room and bed with him. Kyle had his own room, as was only
proper. Dieter was the perfect host, always hovering about and attentive in
a physical way. His hands were often on Kyle's shoulder for reassurance. He
liked to stroke Kyle's belly with his knuckles during conversation, and
sometimes he pinched one of his tiny nipples as he made a point. Of course
he complimented Kyle on his fine physique.

"Yes, the smooth look was just right for a slender young man like you my
friend, with such a fine looking manhood," he said, weighing it in his big
hand. "A gay boy doesn't need secondary sexual characteristics like facial
or body hair to prove genetic fitness in the mating dance. His fitness for
a male partner is evident in his beauty of face and of form and in his
eagerness to submit to a dominant male who takes the active role in their
relationship."

He knew how often Kyle had surrendered himself to dominant males all
summer. This was a boy with a bottomless need to yield and to be used, but
it was high time he learned that quality in sexual partners was at least as
important as quantity.

By evening, it would have seemed almost churlish for Kyle to object as his
host took him by the arm and led him into his own room instead of into
Kyle's. Maybe it was that third drink that made Kyle more suggestible. He
didn't usually drink much or very often either, just wine occasionally with
dinner, and his slight body weight magnified the effects of alcohol.

Dieter was a fastidious man and led Kyle into the bath for a quick
douche. By now Kyle was used to being taken in charge and ordered about by
stronger males, giving them access to the most intimate parts of his body,
letting them purge him in preparation for sexual service. So Kyle didn't
object as this man, a near stranger flushed him out then inserted his
fingers coated with a slippery oil to lubricate his anus. He was long past
embarrassment about the use others made of his nether orifice as an
entrance for cock or dildo, butt plug or douche.

He was rather surprised at the restraints Dieter brought out, but the
Haitian crew liked to tie him up too, lest he thrash about
unthinkingly. Being trussed emphasizes a boy's helplessness, making him
more amenable to any use his betters would make of his lithe body. A little
rope burn afterwards is a good reminder till the next time of his place in
the social pecking order -- at the very bottom. In truth though, Kyle's
lusts and his growing need to submit and surrender were as strong a bond as
their ropes.

So Kyle stood meekly trembling from excitement and lust as Dieter placed
him in a set of leather restraints buckling and locking and trussing his
wrists behind his back in a leather harness attached to his neck. Then
Dieter hobbled him as if he were a frisky colt. Next he wound a leather
thong around his genitals, first around the entire package, then around the
root of the cock, next another the top of the scrotum, and finally to
separate and tie off each ball. A leash snapped to the leather collar
around his neck completed the ensemble.  Dieter let him see what he looked
like in the full length mirrors in the dressing room. A captive
slaveboy. His erection was so hard it hurt.

That was the scenario for the evening, nothing too intense or painful, mind
you. Dieter was seducing this delicious boy, not trying to break him down
physically though he fully intended to use his riding crop on the
vulnerable rump and trussed up manhood to humiliate the youth who had so
obligingly put himself in his power. Dieter knew that deep within this
young American was an abject bottom begging to be controlled and used. He,
Dieter, had long practice in making such silly boys realize their own
destiny. Harsh physical measures were not needed. For his purpose he liked
to mind fuck his boys.

For starters there was their differential in size and age. The man towered
over little Kyle. The blond youth felt very small before this
giant. Helpless too. With hands cuffed behind him and hobbled, he could do
nothing the protect his vulnerable front or his ass. Their proximity
accentuated they youth's own nudity, and the man's khakis and that riding
crop in his hand symbolized the authority and power the man had over
him. The strap around his genitals emphasized that they too, not just his
limbs, were in bondage.

Dieter eyed the lad critically. He put his big hands on the youth's
shoulders, slid his palms over the rounded deltoids, ran his hands down the
impressively scalloped belly and ran his fingers over the boy's sharp hip
bones. Impressed by the smooth musculature, he turned the boy around and
ran his hands down Kyle's shoulder blades and flanks to the flare of his
hips and on to the roundness of his buttocks, giving them a firm squeeze
that left bruises. He slid the blade of his hand between the buttocks,
giving an appreciative grunt as he stroked the small hole in between,
feeling it twitch open as his fingertips touched it. Then Dieter reached
forward testing the firmness of the muscles on the back of Kyle's thighs
and of his calves. The boy was impressively muscled for one so slight of
build.

How erotic it was; the lad's slenderness was accentuated by the way his
cuffed wrists pushed his chest forward, accentuating his the vulnerable
belly. The older male spun the youth to face him once again, smiling at the
boy's embarrassment. The intimate visual and physical scrutiny had
stimulated his cock up, making it plump up; a drop of fluid glistened at
the tip of the foreskin. Dieter took the boy's ball sac in his fist and
squeezed it though not too hard. How vulnerable the boy was like this. It
took just a bit of a squeeze to bring out an ecstatic grimace on his
delicate features.  Though Kyle moaned at the rough treatment of his
precious balls, his erection never flagged. This kind of excitement was why
he had surrendered himself in the first place.

The big man frigged the boy's cock, drawing the foreskin back to reveal the
purple head. Dieter slicked a clear drop of fluid on his finger tip and
offered it to his captive. Kyle obediently took it on his tongue and
swallowed. The German did it again, this time rubbing the boy's tongue
piercing and letting him suck on his finger. Then he pulled the stiff
member out at a forty-five degree angle and let it slap back to his belly
with an audible whack. A man of the world with long experience in such
matters, he knew that sometimes to get the attention of a young male, you
had to grab him by the balls, and a stiff prick made a good handle
too. Dieter turned a bit to see the boy in the mirror and so his video
camera could get a better shot then pulled the tumescent member down nearly
parallel with the floor. The resulting smack was louder.

That was when Dieter laid the boy on the bed face down with his rump in the
air and gave him his first fuck of the evening. It was long and erotic,
building the boy's pleasure almost to the point of release, then letting
him cool down. An old tactic, teens were always so quick to come. Delaying
orgasm it was just the thing to make them realize who was in charge and how
much they wanted a strong hand to rule them and their sexuality.

Left to himself, a randy lad would come too soon and too often. Under the
controlling hand of a master, he would learn the unmatched intensity of an
orgasm coming after hours of arousal. Solid spanks to his rump reinforced
the boy's subordinate position. A real man does not get spanked but a boy
does. Submissive boys like Kyle needed to be spanked often and hard and by
men who knew how, men like Dieter. The blindfold make the boy concentrate
on the sensations on of touch and smell as his hormone drenched body
approached climax.

Finally, frantic with lust, Kyle begged abjectly for release, promising to
serve Dieter however he wanted if only he would let him come. He now
belonged to Dieter, he was Dieter's slave boy, Dieter was his master, but
please Master let him cum. With the boy's slender legs now over his
shoulders and his cock buried deep in his fundament, drilling his hole,
Dieter finally allowed his sexual captive to cum, aiming the boy's engorged
member so that the arc of his own ejaculation splashed onto his face. The
older man slicked the boy's cum on a finger and fed it to him, occasionally
squeezing and stroking the boy's tender cock, now at that painful stage
when even a light touch brings both pain and pleasure deep in the sensitive
head. That is the way you get through to a boy like Kyle.

A short while later, Dieter released the boy. They took a quick shower then
slept together in the comfortable bed. During the night, Kyle scooted his
ass back to Dieter's hip, spooning his small body into the bigger man.

Over the next two days, Kyle became ever more slavishly responsive to
Dieter and the rough treatment he dealt out. Not that he was in love. It
was simply an intense physical reaction to his servitude and loss of
control that touched a deep chord in his submissive personality. His hole
started twitching when Dieter touched him anticipating who knew what
heights of sexual pleasure the man would take him to. He felt tingly and
servile in the man's presence. Yes a mind fuck indeed.

Dieter liked to apply clothes pins to Kyle's erogenous zones, holding them
up for him to see and letting them snap shut right in front of his
face. Dieter snapped a clothes pin on a nipple, bringing a hiss from the
boy. Kyle's abs flexed as the struggled to accept the insult to his bodily
integrity. With each added clothes pin, Kyle felt more helpless, less in
control, as the German worked over his spread-eagled little body. He pulled
uselessly at his bonds and looked appealingly at the big man for
relief. Instead the man clamped another pin to his scrotum or to the shaft
of his cock or used two really big ones to squeeze his testicles. Dieter
always saved the best for last: a big pin right on the head of the cock.

Already sweaty from the heat and his writhing, Kyle's tormented body poured
out a wave of nervous perspiration giving it a fine sheen. His cock
glistened in the spotlights Dieter trained on his willing victim. Yes the
pins hurt, but the sensation set fireworks off in Kyle's hormone drenched
brain. He would have to get a set of clips to use on himself when he got
back to college.

Dieter liked to taste all the precious bodily fluids he could coax from a
young male: spit and sweat, seminal fluid and ejaculate, tears and
blood. Just a trickle of blood mind you, say from sharp alligator clamps
applied to the nipples to pierce the skin and get the red fluid flowing
slowly over his ribs down his chest. The trickles traced an irregular track
down to the hip and to the belly. That was about as heavy a trip Dieter
would use on Kyle.

Dieter knew Kyle would make someone a good live-in slave boy. Too bad he
did not have to time to properly train the boy. What could a man like
Dieter do but sigh. So many boys, so little time. Although born just a few
years too soon to benefit from gene tweaking, Dieter would still live a
very long and healthy life thanks to longevity research in regeneration,
purging of free radicals, etc. He would age slowly but gracefully. Still,
he would not be perpetually seventeen or eighteen like boys like Kyle.

In truth Dieter had his limits. He hoped this beautiful lad would never
fall into the hands of true sadists, cruel men who enjoyed not only
dominating pretty boys the way Dieter did, but actually hurting
them. Dieter was a dominant and liked to tie up and discipline his boys,
but the pain he inflicted on his boys was not an end in itself; it was a
tool to instill discipline and obedience and to stimulate perverse
arousal. He enjoyed seeing a boy arc his body away from the sting of a
strap on his ass, to make him writhe, pulling on his restraints. A boy's
moans and groans aroused Dieter; they mimicked the sounds of orgasm. Most
of all Dieter liked to hear a boy whimper, so indicative of his
helplessness, pain, humiliation, and shame.

Dieter never inflicted pain for its own sake and never damaged a boy
permanently. What greater sin could there be to destroy the beauty of a
lovely youth like Kyle. His beauty was a gift to be shared as widely as
possible, not tossed aside for the perverse pleasure derived from
inflicting pain on another human being. By the same token, bondage was part
of the scene but only during sex play or very infrequently
overnight. Dieter had no interest in keeping a boy in chains long term,
much less against his will.

Karl and Horst arrived back at the plantation a couple of days later and
readily fell in with Dieter's initiative. Yes, their young American house
guest looked so good on his knees or bent over a log or a chair. Such a
lithe form, so slender you could almost put your hands around his
waist. That small shapely rump just begged for the slap of a man's strong
hand or the sting of a riding crop. In the arms of the three dominants,
Kyle was lost in a sea of sensation as the men took him again and again,
sometimes double penetrating his tiny orifice.

To add to his excitement the Germans lead Kyle around the plantation on a
leash, exhibiting him to the amused staff, sometimes tweaking his
defenseless nipples or pinching his pert bottom. Except for the collar and
cuffs that held his wrists behind his back Kyle was totally nude and
hairless. Sometimes they grabbed his stiff cock and pulled him along. Poor
Kyle blushed all over at being seen and displayed in so lascivious a
fashion, leaving no one in any doubt that the slender American youth was a
shameless fuck toy.

Scenes of degradation at the hands of stern masters turned the randy youth
on terribly; his nearly unflagging erection gave proof of that. He got all
hot knowing that much of this action was being captured on camera for
posterity. How terribly naughty and wanton of Kyle to have abjectly
surrendered himself for such physical, psychological, and sexual
games. Just as well they were punishing him. A shameless boy like him
deserved no less.

The Germans all agreed that it was too bad they couldn't take the boy back
to Dieter's well equipped dungeon in the family's half ruined castle near
the Black Forest. Dieter entertained dominators who brought their young
submissive boys for a night or a weekend in a congenial atmosphere.

Kyle too would look good stretched out on the St. Andrew's cross, limbs
bound in a huge X. The whole thing rotated so you could turn a boy upside
down leaving his mouth at just the right height for oral service. Dieter's
rack had spring loaded restraints that lessened the chance of pulling a
muscle or dislocating a shoulder, but still kept the boy bound to it
helpless for anything his masters might care to inflict. On the cross, Kyle
would at last fully realize the depths of his body's hunger for pain,
submission, and sexual servitude.

On their last evening, their hosts ended their role playing. Once again
they were solicitous host and Kyle their welcome guest. His hosts decided
to make his going away dinner truly memorable with good food and drink,
soft music playing in the background. All during the dinner they fed the
boy tender morsels and let him sip his fill of a fine wine chosen for the
occasion. Afterwards, in the living room the Germans sat Kyle on their
laps, playing with his manhood one last time, taking wagers on how many
times the boy would cum during during the evening. Kyle's score was six
shots, the last little more than a dribble, if the truth were
known. Finally the boy fell asleep, or got drunk or maybe a bit of both. It
was hard to say. His hosts bathed the exhausted boy in a warm bath and laid
him in a soft bed alone. He looked like an angel, innocent, pure, and
beautiful.

By the time they dropped him off at the capital early Monday morning, he
was one very tired but very satisfied bottom boy.

				Chapter 4. Junior Year

There is more to life than just sexual adventure, however exciting. So Kyle
headed back to his junior year and his upcoming twentieth birthday at Colby
College looking forward to his reunion with his three lovers Jean-Michel,
Jason, and Tommy and to resuming his studies.  Kyle really got into his
role whether as a whipped slave boy or a pirate's cabin boy, of the white
captive of the Comanches.  Yes in retrospect even he could see how bizarre
it all was, but during his role playing, it was so incredibly arousing.

Tommy Houlihan was his best friend and roommate at the residential college,
though not southern born like Kyle. It had taken him a while to fall in
with the casual public nudity common in this section of the country, so
much affected by global warming. It had taken the tall red-head even longer
to admit that he himself was bisexual and had fallen in love with a boy.

Jean-Michel was a dark-haired French-Canadian student who insisted that, to
help his new friend perfect his French, they must always speak it in their
room, even or especially in bed. Tommy had to learn too just to keep up and
so they couldn't pull pranks on him. A couple of years older, Jean-Michel
also taught the younger boy love making techniques. Sometimes Kyle got two
lessons at once as when Jean-Michel put his much smaller roommate on his
knees and bent him over and slapped his ass with a lusty
'�carte-toi'. Kyle, little bottom boy that he was, had better figure out
that meant 'spread 'em'.

Jean-Michel was the tallest, with dark hair and fine arching eyebrows. The
redhead stood five inches taller than the blond boy at just under six feet
(182 cm). He had a strong but lean build. As befits his Irish heritage he
had a milky complexion with just a dusting of freckles, though very few on
his face. His body was naturally hairless on chest, arms, and legs. Both
exuded sex appeal with their good looks, robust health, and fine athletic
physiques, both on the lean side.

Jean-Michel majored in history, Tommy in civil engineering, and Kyle in
geography. Their differing perspectives made for intelligent
conversation. Jason majored in math. His dad wanted him to become an
actuary, but he really intended to be a labor economist.

Kyle had been posing as a nude model for an art class where Jason was one
of the students. Kyle had noticed the cute student and at first managed to
restrain his arousal. Unfortunately his good intentions could not withstand
his intense attraction to the dark haired student. Jason's dark good looks
were a match to Kyle's spun gold and they were just the same height and
build. Their features were different but devastatingly attractive. Think
the youthful Rob Lowe of "St. Elmo's Fire" paired with Ryan Philippe in
"White Squall." Ten minutes into their session, the art teacher had had to
send the two randy boys into his office to deal with the problem of Kyle's
painful erection, much to the amusement of the other students.

The boys soon fell back into their familiar routine. They helped each other
with their homework, library research, and writing assignments. Tommy
laughed at how unself-consiously the boys, himself included now, could sit
before their screens writing, doing homework, reading, all so intellectual
and earnest yet all four of them buck naked, usually with the door open too
for anyone to look in. Kyle shrugged at the thought and said it was
clothing that was artificial. Naked was natural, the default status.

At night in the dorm room the four lovers shared there was a constantly
shifting constellation of youthful bodies. Often Jean-Michel took the lead,
and he and Tommy usually double-teamed their little blond roommate. Then
Jason and Kyle made love; they especially enjoyed sixty-nining because of
their matched physiques. Afterwards, Tommy liked to spoon himself to Kyle's
smaller frame, enjoying their physical closeness. Often the two smaller
boys would sleep in the middle with their bigger protectively on the
outside. Asleep they looked more like four angelic innocents than the lusty
young men they were when awake.

Most of the guys in the dorm straight or gay were just as casual about
dress: a sarong, loose shorts, even loincloths were common sights, and
students thought nothing of running around bareass in the hallways, sunning
and reading on the patio or swimming in the nude. The recreational pool was
a natural wide spot in the creek with the near bank shored up with field
stone along the deepest stretch where kids could dive.

At the pool on the college grounds no one wore a suit. The swimming pool
was a single gender area, as most of the campus was. Males had their
preserves and the rest of the campus was open to mixed company. Single
gender education had become the norm with students from twinned schools
socializing, sharing laboratories and some lecture halls but mostly going
their separate ways.

Kyle and the other student farm hands who helped out in the large communal
garden never wore clothes as they went about their chores. The garden was
sited all the way on the other side of the college property, beyond the low
wall encircling the grounds of the college proper. It was very large since
it had to provide produce for a student body of over five hundred plus
faculty, staff, and their dependents.

Tommy occasionally dated girls because he enjoyed that kind of socializing
and dancing. Someday he would get married and start a family but he was in
no hurry. He couldn't bring a girl up to their room of course. Jason was on
a mission to persuade any straight guy he could corner to admit that a
pretty gay boy gave better head than their girlfriends. He got many takers
who appreciated a good blow job as much as the next man and were taken with
how pretty the small youth looked down there on his knees before
them. Jason never counted his conquest complete until he got his partner to
French kiss afterwards, both of them tasting his masculinity in a lingering
kiss. Jean-Michel had the most conventional love life. He liked his
roommates, and except for a summer fling with a local boy while home in
Qu�bec never looked for others.

Thanks to Dieter's warning, Kyle was careful about indulging his darker
desires for bondage and discipline. He had no wish to be ripped from his
pleasant existence and enslaved by some sadist. He already knew the
difference between kinky games and real captivity from his experiences with
the Morlocks and those escaped criminals a couple of years earlier.

So Kyle joined a private club where he could indulge his occasional forays
into BDSM in a safe environment. Sited on the outskirts of Colby, it
offered an inconspicuous rendezvous for dominants and submissives from
metropolitain Atlanta. It offered both discretion and safety. No one could
take a boy from the premises in fetters who hadn't brought him there in the
first place. Dominants were full members and paid membership fees. A
submissive kid like Kyle could come with a Dom or alone, offering himself
up as a slave for the evening. He did not have to pay membership fees or
for food or drink.

As a bottom boy, Kyle gave up his freedom and any clothing at the door of
the club. Boys took pot luck as to which stern master would have control of
them. During that time almost anything might happen though nothing terribly
painful or that would permanently damage him. Surveillance monitored by
artificial intelligence systems ensured the health and safety of the subs
while safeguarding privacy. These were evenings and days of humiliation and
sexual servitude as little Kyle was fucked, fisted, double penetrated, or
whipped, and paddled while he lay stretched out on a rack or hung
spread-eagle from an overhead beam or over an arch. There were many
volunteers for the privilege of whipping the lovely boy who responded so
well, writhing, tugging on his bonds, moaning and whimpering so sexily.

As with canings in high school Kyle was brave under the whip. He did not
cry out at the first cut with the cat or at the second. His slender body
arced away from each blow, but he let out no more than a groan. The lashes
fell on his back and his ass. Some wrapped around his ribs. He
writhed. Again and again the cat landed from shoulders to ass to back of
the thighs leaving red welts though not tearing the skin. A clever master
knew to work from behind the boy, so the tortured youth could never see it
coming, and avoided a predictable rhythm the victim might anticipate. It
was not long before the boy was crying out with each slash of the whip,
sobbing, tears running down his cheeks, though always with an iron hard
erection.

Of all the staged whippings, Kyle felt most humiliated with the riding
crop. It like getting whipped and raped at the same time. The painful snap
of the crop on his butt made him drive his hips forward in a parody of a
thrust. The heavy breathing and moans mimicked intercourse. A master could
shove the handle of the crop up the rectum like a cock in a rape. A riding
crop delivers stinging blows to a male's generative organs. A master could
snap the crop at the balls very fast. Nothing is more emasculating than
having another man abuse your sexual equipment, grabbing it for a quick
squeeze then hitting it with the stinging crop, making fun of Kyle's
hairlessness down there, calling him whore boy then proving it true by
raping him for real.

Then there was the plasma globe. Stuck on the end of a rod, the globe was
the size of a grapefruit. A master could keep his victim lightly bound,
sitting or kneeling on a table, just so long as he could not get away or
use his hands to defend himself. Electric bolts crackled within the globe
and delivered a sting when pressed to the skin. Just getting close was
enough for a spark to jump the gap. Great with the lights dim when you
could easily see the spark. The boy would cringe from the globe, then cry
out as he was touched and whimper afterward. The fear induced sweat on his
slick skin just made for a better electrical circuit.

Kyle really got into his role whether as a whipped galley slave, or a
pirate's cabin boy, of a white captive of the Comanches. Yes in retrospect
even he could see how bizarre it all was, but during his role playing it
was so incredibly arousing he kept going back for more.

Kyle's three lovers had no interest in these kinky activities. They wanted
Kyle and needed him as a roommate, lover, friend, fellow student, and
teammate but not that way. Still he always told them before he left for the
club's isolated grounds at the edge of town, letting them know how long he
would be gone. It might be a few hours or occasionally a weekend. Typically
he simply ran over in the nude, taking clothing out of the equation from
the very beginning. When he returned from his ordeal, his lovers soothed
his bruises and welt marks with kisses and cool creams and lotions, knowing
that, now that he had got it out of his system for a while, they had their
lovely Kyle back with them.