Date: Wed, 13 Aug 2008 10:17:51 +1000
From: Iain Robertson <iainlthr@hotmail.com>
Subject: Another Nick and Noah - chapter 8

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

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

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

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



Another Nick and Noah

Chapter 8


Nick and Bob stowed the helmets in the bikes, and replaced them with
master's caps while Peter and Noah eagerly donned their respective
hoods. Bob, or `Master Nightstick' as he was now, led the others towards a
small but heavy steel door in the side of a nondescript warehouse. There
were no signs or markings to indicate what the place was, nothing but a
dull globe hanging loosely, and almost ineffective except to indicate that
the entrance existed at all. He gripped the handle and heaved at the door
which swung open slowly but silently, and beckoned his friends and Peter
into the small anteroom within, only slighter better lit than the area
outside.

A tiny space it was, filled with soft red light from a lamp high up on one
wall. To the right of where they had come in was another, equally solid,
steel door and to the left a glassed window like some kind of
ticket-seller's booth, inhabited by a young man chewing gum and looking
slightly bored.

"Security," Bob muttered to Nick and Noah. To the man inside the alcove, he
spoke warmly. "Hi Tim, good to see you again."

"You too, Nightstick, Punk," the man replied, nodding at Peter as
well. "Brought some friends with you?"

"Yep. This is Trojan, and Viking," Bob answered, indicating his
mates. "Busy in here yet?"

Tim grinned widely. "Not yet, mate," he said, "but it's looking good for
heating up soon!"

With that, he pressed a hidden release, and a buzzing click announced that
the door opposite him was unlatched. Peter pulled at it quickly, and as it
swung open the sound of muffled background music and lowered voices floated
out on a wave of warm air and musky scent. The four friends made their way
inside, letting the door thud closed behind them. As their eyes adjusted to
the dim light, a vast room of leather delights was revealed.

At least a dozen slings hung from the ceiling, lined up along one long
mirrored wall. Some of the slings were simply `out in the open' whilst
others were enclosed in cages of metal bars or chain mesh fencing. Near the
opposite side of the massive space, the boys could see a number of St
Andrew's Crosses, the giant `X's covered in padded black leather, most
fastened to the wall, but several supported by steel frames which allowed
them to be swung end over end, and all of them fitted with straps and
buckles to restrain their cargo of human toys. At regular intervals along
both walls and throughout the vast room were `toy boxes' – open cabinets
filled with butt plugs and dildoes, paddles and whips, blindfolds,
handcuffs and more.

Master Nightstick led his boy and their friends into the area, sauntering
the length of the room, as Trojan and Viking eagerly inspected the various
facilities, and cast more than a few appreciative glances at the other
leathered men already milling around in the space. The centre of the
warehouse was furnished with a collection of areas for other
`activities'. There were large leather sofas arranged around low tables for
relaxation; three or four gigantic flat spaces covered in dark hide,
looking like oversized square beds but without pillows or headboards, at
least four metres to a side and able to accommodate 8 or 10 men at a
time. Interspersed among these were slave benches, black and gleaming, some
high, some low, in many varying shapes and configurations to cater for the
wildest imagination. Some areas had nothing but large metal rings set into
the flooring, directly above which hung long, sturdy chains adorned with
wrist cuffs. There were more enclosed places, some appearing to be inspired
by prison cells, others reminiscent of horse stalls.

At the far end of the building, one corner was walled off, creating
another, still large, room, about 15 metres wide by 20 metres long. As they
watched, two of the `party-goers' pulled open a door to the area. From
where the four friends stood, they could see yet another door inside the
first. Noah raised his eyebrows in a question.

"That's the black room," explained Peter. "Completely dark, no light
whatsoever!" He grinned happily.

The corresponding corner area contained toilet cubicles and shower stalls,
a large supply of towels clearly visible. Next to that, another dimly lit
area was walled off from the rest of the place, but with only waist high
walls. Inside those walls the entire place was tiled in dark blue, with a
couple of over-sized bath-tubs, and several raised areas like benches
surrounding a central pit.

"Water-sports," Nightstick explained.

"They've thought of everything, haven't they?" Nick exclaimed.

"Certainly tried to," his fellow Master agreed.

Noah whistled. "This place is fantastic," he stated quietly but
firmly. "You could be as intimate or as exhibitionist as you wanted in
here!"

"Absolutely!" Punk agreed.

The group of four slowly made their way back toward the entrance. Up at
that end of the cavernous building, a bar had been set up with drinks and
snacks available, a row of high stools nearby and yet another lounging area
adjacent to it.

As they approached the bar, they were greeted with a deep voiced
salutation.

"Nightstick, Punk, how the fuck are you?" said a tall young man garbed in
leather from head to toe, his body sinewy and fit. Nick gasped momentarily
when he caught sight of the face beneath the cap, but Master Nightstick
answered warmly.

"Rammer, it's good to see you again, my friend. You too, Cumslut," he
nodded to the other's companion.

This time Nick's whistled appreciation was clearly audible. Rammer's `boi'
was huge. A giant of a man, standing easily six and a half feet tall,
heavily muscled with impossibly broad shoulders and legs like tree trunks,
encased in a pair of leather chaps and a full body harness which must be
re-inforced to keep it from tearing open under the pressure of the iron
body over which it was spray-painted. A huge cock, easily nine inches long,
and thick, swung at his groin, crowned by a gleaming silver Prince Albert.

As Nick's jaw fell open, Noah ran his eyes up and down each of the men, but
lingering on Rammer. There was no mistaking him as Patrick's brother, an
identical twin, but seen in this setting so completely different from their
host back down on the Peninsula.

"Meet some new friends of ours," Bob said amiably, gesturing to Nick and
Noah. This is `Trojan', and his sub, `Viking'. They're down from Sydney,"
he said casually.

Rammer smiled warmly, shaking hands with each of them and lustily
appraising Noah with his stare. There was no recognition of either of them
in his eyes, and Noah guessed that he did not recall them from the day of
the funeral. In fact, he wondered if Sean had even seen them that day, with
everything else that had happened.

"Welcome to Melbourne guys," he said with a chuckle. "I hope you enjoy our
... `hospitality' ...!"

Nick chuckled lustily. "I'm sure we will, Rammer," he replied.

Cumslut grinned as well. In a voice surprisingly soft for such a large man,
he murmured throatily, "Looks like you might be already enjoying it, Master
Trojan, Sir!"

As he spoke he casually reached out and ran a finger slowly but sensuously
down Nick's abdomen and traced the outline of the thickening cock within
Trojan's codpiece. Unperturbed, flattered even, Nick's only reaction was to
take yet another long, hard look at the muscled form of the sub standing in
front of him, before winking obviously at both Rammer and Nightstick.

The room was beginning to fill with men, all of them bedecked in gleaming,
skin tight leather. There were at least 25 there already, some alone, some
in small groups or couples. One of the slings was occupied and becoming the
centre of attention for a group of three others as the guy lying back in
the leather platform slowly jacked himself off. Nightstick looked around
appreciatively.

"Looks like it could be a good night," he noted.

"Mmmm," Rammer agreed, his hand falling to Noah's arse as he squeezed at
the rounded flesh of the sub's buns. "And I predict that you and your slave
will be in for some extra attention, Trojan," he added. "New meat, and all
that, you know!"

Noah grinned widely. "I hope so, Sir!" He enthused, taking the opportunity
to close one hand around the full leather pouch at Rammer's groin, while
pinching lightly with the other at the Master's left nipple.

"I like that, Viking," Rammer responded huskily. "A sub with some spirit,
who knows what he wants!"

"So what are you waiting for, Sir?" Noah asked boldly. Rammer looked to
Nick with a raised eyebrow, but Master Trojan simply laughed.

"We're not here to swap recipes!" he hissed.

Without another word, Rammer spun Viking around and began to march him away
from the bar area, heading for one of the unoccupied slings about half way
along the left wall. Nightstick, grinning evilly, followed his
friend. Trojan looked at the two slaves with lust-filled eyes. In a deep
and menacing voice he spoke to both.

"What are you pussies waiting for? Get moving. We are going to need some
servicing while Master Rammer is busy with Viking." He pointed in the
direction the others had gone.

"Yes, Sir!" the two chorused, quickly obeying as Nick followed them,
admiring the rounded buttocks and thick legs of the two subs he fully
intended to use and enjoy.

When they caught up with them, Master Rammer was pushing Viking back into a
sling that hung in a large open area. As the slave's feet lifted from the
ground, he moved to one side and quickly attached cuffs to each of Viking's
wrists, securing them to the supporting chains. Then the sub's boots were
slotted into stirrups on the other support chains, and ankle cuffs ensured
they stayed in that position. Stepping back to survey his handiwork, Rammer
spotted the butt plug already lodged in Viking's arse.

"Hey, you guys really did come well prepared," he commented.

"We were playing at home before we came," laughed Nightstick. "Didn't want
them to close up on us!"

Rammer chuckled, and reached for the base of the plug as Viking lay back
into the sling, his arms and legs restricted in their movement, the scent
of lusty leather all about him. The Master pulled tentatively at the toy,
then slid it out of his body.

"Oh boy, a lubed and waiting hole!" he declared to no-one in particular as
he slid first one and then a second finger into Noah's body. With his other
hand he eagerly unclasped the heavy leather codpiece restricting his
manhood. A long, thin tube of meat sprang forward, throbbing with blood and
quickly growing to full tumescence. Aiming himself at the winking target,
Rammer wasted no time with niceties, but plunged himself into the slave's
body in one pounding movement, spearing his cock deep into Viking's bowel
as his balls slapped against the upturned bare flesh of the sub's butt
cheeks.

Viking gasped with delight as he was skewered by the dagger of flesh and he
and the sling rocked backwards before crashing again even harder onto that
living sword. With his body opened and held in place, he trembled as the
muscular frame of Master Rammer stood between his legs and that long cock
ploughed his arse. The gleaming black of his chaps framed the dark leather
of the dom's vest, harness and gauntlets. The white of Rammer's flesh
offset the inky shades of his cap and chaps as he fucked long deep strokes
into Viking's hole, and Viking exhaled breathy gasps with each thrust he
received. When the Master gripped at his harness with one hand, and wrapped
the other around his steel hard prong, delivering a faster, more powerful
fucking, Noah could not help but hiss out loud.

"Oh, yes Sir! Fuck me, Sir. Fuck me hard and fuck me long, Rammer!"

While Rammer did exactly that, Nightstick moved to the head of the sling
where he could look down and along Viking's body. He had a good view of the
two leathered men fucking earnestly, gleaming hide and glistening flesh
interlocked. He rubbed his swollen but yet encased cock against the top of
Viking's head, the leather of his cod squealing against the leather of the
slave's hood. Whilst Rammer grabbed and fucked at the body on the sling,
Nightstick leaned forward and reached over, pinching hard at Viking's
nipples as he ground his masculinity against the hide bound cranium.

"That's it, Rammer," he whispered. "Fuck that arse. Fuck him hard and make
him beg for more. Take that cock, Viking. Open that fucking hole and feel
his cock inside you, boy!" All three were even more seriously aroused by
the encouragement Master Nightstick urged.

Nick stood silently nearby, his excitement building quickly as he watched
his colleagues work on his mate. Without taking his eyes from the scene
before him, he barked at Cumslut and Punk where they stood, also watching
the action on the sling.

"You two! Service me!" was all he said. Punk quickly dropped to the ground,
prostrating himself before Master Trojan and licking eagerly at his
boots. Cumslut straddled the other slave, his teeth attacking Trojan's
hard, erect tits while his hands groped at the stretching envelope of hide
which contained the Master's dick and balls. In his hand Nick held a short
soft leather paddle, which he used to lightly stroke each of the slaves
attending to him. He tingled with the physical sensations and the seriously
erotic sense of power he felt at being in control of the two strong but
compliant men caressing his body with mouths and hands.

After rutting into the slave on the sling for some time, Rammer pulled
back, unwilling to peak so soon. A look passed between him and Nightstick,
and without further words, they changed places, Rammer now pulling at
Viking's chest while his glistening, slimy cock rubbed against the side of
the slave's head and down onto his neck. Nightstick happily took his
position at the base of the sling, freeing his achingly hard prick from
it's leather scabbard only to instantly bury it deep inside the wet,
squelching innards of Viking, before enthusiastically falling into a rhythm
of slow, deep thrusts as he took possession of the sub's compliant chute.

While the other two Masters shared his boi, Nick continued to enjoy Punk
and Cumslut. As Nightstick began his extended fucking of Viking, Trojan
turned the huge sub around and eased his spit soaked shaft into the man's
sphincter, revelling in the sensations as he felt the initial resistance
give way and the hot moist hole swallow his manhood. At the same time, Punk
was on his knees beneath the pair, licking and chewing at both sets of
testicles, gnawing on Cumslut's massive tool, or biting up into the
sensitive skin of Master Trojan's perinaeum as best he could whilst both
men shuddered and rocked in copulatory embrace above him.

When Nightstick felt himself approaching a peak, he followed Rammer's lead
and pulled back, withdrawing his wet, turgid weapon from Viking. But the
slave wasn't left empty for long, as Rammer once more entered him, this
time preferring slow strokes and rotating his hips to probe every part of
the slave's rectum as he happily explored the muscled, leather bound body
lying open and welcoming on the sling.

"Holy Shit, Trojan, this hole is fucking hot!" he exclaimed. "Thanks for
bringing him along to share."

Nick laughed low and soft. "You better believe it, Rammer," he said. "I
think I'll take some of it as well, now that you've reminded me," he added,
pulling his cock from Cumslut with a slurp, and stepping out of the knot of
bodies that he and the two subs had formed. As his fellow Master stepped
back from Noah's body, Nick took his place, sliding easily into the opened
and ravaged canal of his partner. With the ease of long practice, he
ploughed Noah just the way he knew his man loved, a mixture of slow, deep
insertions and hard, teeth rattling crunches. With the others standing
beside him, each of them being licked and sucked by the other slaves, Nick
lowered his body over his man, his head dropping close to Noah's ear.

"Noah, are you okay with ... this?" he whispered.

So softly that only Nick could hear, came the reply. "Nick, you know you're
the only man for me, the only one I love ...?"

Nick nodded happily.

"Tonight isn't about love. This is about hot, raunchy sex, and lots of
it. I'm loving it, and I want more. As much as I can get. Go off and find
yourself a crowd of slaves to service you. I don't think I'm going anywhere
..." he rattled the cuffs around his wrists for emphasis, " ... and I like
it like that!" He grinned from ear to ear.

His partner chuckled again, giving an extra hard thrust and sinking himself
even deeper into Noah's body.

"I love you, `Viking'," he hissed.

"Ditto!", Noah muttered, then gasped as Nick withdrew from his body.

"He's all yours, Rammer!" Nick said as he stepped back. "And it looks like
you've got an audience ..."

Nick was right. Several other men had gathered around them, watching
interestedly as the three Masters had taken turns fucking Viking. Some of
them lazily stroked their own cocks as they enjoyed the exhibition.

"Thanks, Trojan," Sean grinned as he eagerly slid back inside the
slave. "I'll `take care' of him – I swear!"

Master Trojan happily nodded, then looked to the other subs again. "Punk,
Cumslut, get your sorry arses over to that bench!" he commanded, pointing
to one of the slave bench combinations a short distance away. "I think I'm
gonna take a whip to both of you. You want to help me out, Nightstick?"

As the pair scurried to obey, barely able to conceal their grins, the other
Master declined.

"Thanks, Trojan, but keep them all for yourself for now. I see a couple of
guys over by one of the St Andrew's crosses who look like they could use
some help." He sauntered away in the direction he had pointed, his
slickened cock leading his taut and leathered body into the dimness.

Nick took little notice as his mate disappeared, but followed Cumslut and
Punk to the bench. Bending them over it side by side and securing their
wrists and ankles firmly, he strutted around them in a lazy circle. He'd
collected a cat-o-nine made of kid leather from a `toy-box' on the way, and
every so often he landed a soft blow across one or other of the sub's
shoulders, back or buttocks. In a low but menacing voice he told them what
useless pussy fags they were, and soon had both of them begging to be used
and punished. So he obliged. With the whip still in one hand, he fucked
first Punk, and then Cumslut with powerful, pile driving thrusts, slamming
himself into the boi in question for no more than a few minutes at a time
before pulling out to ravage the other, all the time raining down a volley
of relatively gentle, but very audible, lashes onto their leathered bodies.

The power he felt, the control he held over these two men, with both of
them begging to be used and abused by him, was so unbelievably erotic, that
Nick knew he could not keep fucking either for any length of time, or his
body would not cope with the sensory overload, and he would soon be
exploding. Yet he certainly wasn't going to give up on this whole scenario
– it was driving him wild with excitement. As a variation, he began to
circle the slaves, first fucking them, then driving his meaty cock deep
into their throats, fucking both at each end, and still slapping and
abusing them. The more that they begged and whined, the more exciting he
found it.

Yet the slave bench, which had at first seemed like such a good idea, began
to annoy him. It was too restricting, forcing him to walk around or lean
over the fixed and unyielding equipment. Not far away was one of the large
platforms, a gigantic, square `bed' covered in leather. There were no other
people on it, yet it seemed to have something spread over it. Leaving the
subs for a moment, Master Trojan investigated, and returned to his slaves
with a grin on his face.

Quickly releasing the restraints of the two, he pointed at the raised
square. "Up on there, both of you!" he ordered. As they followed his
commands, he collected several differently sized dildoes from a cabinet
before joining the subs.

The equipment Nick had found on the bed was a set of chains, laid across
it, with cuffs and clips at various intervals. Happily, he shackled each of
the slaves to the chains, giving them a reasonable degree of movement, but
effectively making them his captives, unable to get too far from him. With
each of them kneeling on the platform, Master Trojan climbed up and stood
over them, ordering them to service him. Instantly, he had both Punk and
Cumslut licking at his feet, clawing at his legs, and desperately trying to
suck on his cock, his butt or his nipples. He issued curt instructions from
time to time which they jumped to obey, and revelled in the sense of power
and control that he felt.

>From time to time, without warning or notice, Nick would simply lower
himself down, and slam his cock deep into the bowels of whichever of the
subs happened to be closest. Fucking them with abandon for anything from
thirty seconds to ten minutes, he would then wrench his masculinity from
their suctioning holes just as unexpectedly, eliciting gasps and groans of
both delight and frustration from the leather clad hunks he possessed and
used. All three men were so taken up with their `game', and so immersed in
the erotic role play, that they did not realise they had become something
of an exhibition themselves, until another sub dared to climb onto the
platform, prostrate himself before Master Trojan, and beg in a deep,
respectful voice.

"Please, Sir, may I join you?"

Nick looked at him with surprise, before noticing others as well. There
were four more subs standing and watching the proceedings, all of them with
hungry looks on their faces. Just off to one side, and slightly back from
them, stood another man, tall and broad shouldered, a cap on his head,
mirrored glasses on his face, and in his hand a leash. Attached to the
other end of that leash was a `boi', wearing nothing but a hood, collar,
and boots. The `dog' was on his hands and knees, and waited patiently
whilst his `owner' occasionally flicked at the tether connecting them.

"Sure thing, boy," he replied in a hiss. "All of you can get up here and
service me!" he declared, sweeping a lust-filled gaze across the gathered
slaves. Looking directly at the other master, he added, "I'm happy to share
if you'd like?"

"Thanks, mate, but I'm fine just watching, if that's okay with you,"
responded the other.

"Not a problem," Nick answered with a grin. He was now the centrepiece of a
writhing mass of leather and flesh as seven men hung on his every word, and
competed with each other to lick at his boots, legs and crotch. Aroused
beyond measure by the power he felt, and by the position he found himself
in, Master Trojan enthusiastically resumed his play. His cock was granite
hard, dribbling pre-cum and glistening from the juices of the bodies he
thrust it into at will. With so many holes begging to be used, he wielded
dildoes in each hand, sometimes fucking three slaves at once with his own
meat and the artificial prongs. At other times he simply stood tall, his
arms crossed and his tool pointing skywards as the eager collection of men
beneath him begged, licked and serviced him. It was at those times when he
felt the greatest sense of control, and the highest degree of arousal.

During one such stance, his eyes travelled away from the platform where he
stood, and found the other Master and his `dog-boy' now close by. The tall
man had settled his `pet' onto one corner of the raised leather area, and
was slowly but continuously fucking him, pulling at the lead and dragging
the dog's neck backward from the collar in time with his long penetrations,
while all the time watching Nick's actions with intense
concentration. Trojan found this new attention even more erotic as he
delighted in being not only in control of the slaves, but on exhibition and
being enjoyed.

***

Bob had left Nick to his own devices with Punk and Cumslut, not because he
wasn't interested in using the pair, but more because he felt that he
should let his colleague act out one of his stronger fantasies. Besides, as
he had commented, there seemed to be something interesting happening over
on the other side of the room at one of the St Andrew's crosses set up
there. It was one of the pieces which stood away from the wall, supported
on a pivoting axle and covered in cushioned leather with buckle-style
restraints not only at the position of a slave's wrists and ankles, but
also where his chest, waist and thighs would be. And they were being done
up as he watched, a thick set Master, naked except for a full-head hood, a
basic four strap harness and over-the-knee boots, was strapping a slave
into position against the black X.

"You want a hand?" Nightstick asked as he came up beside the pair.

The other Master looked him up and down through the eye slits in his
hood. "Sure," he muttered. "Make sure he's bound up nice and tight! I don't
want him coming loose halfway through!"

Nightstick nodded, and set to the bindings on the slave's left side while
his colleague finished off the others. The slave was clad in a full body
suit of shining rubber which clung to his frame like a second skin. From a
distance he could have been naked, with gleaming black flesh, it was fitted
so snugly, except for the smallest of slits near his nose to allow
breathing. Other than that, he was completely enveloped, and would be not
only blinded, but probably unable to hear much either. Even his cock and
balls were encased in tailored rubber, his dick hard and getting harder
with each tightening of the restraints around his body.

With the rubber clad man fully shackled to the cross, his Master once again
checked all of the bindings, then, satisfied they were sufficiently tight,
clicked the anchor pin holding the equipment upright, and swung his sub end
over end, until he was hanging upside down. The slave's latex encased
genitalia were now at face height, his prick pointing at the floor and
harder than ever. The dom reached to one side, and picked up a ball
parachute, quickly snapping it around the base of the black scrotum and
letting the attached weights drag down along the throbbing penis.

Nightstick was fascinated by the gear, and the way the Master used his
sub. A questioning look as he wrapped his fingers around the rubbered cock
was met with a nod, and he began to slide his hand up and down the boi's
cock. The entire suit seemed to be coated in a fine layer of oil, making it
incredibly slippery, almost frictionless, and Nightstick's grip soon had
the wearer trembling with arousal.

"This is the best part," the other Master hissed at him
conspiratorially. He swung the cross through a few more degrees, to bring
the slave's arse into clear view. Without any hesitation, the top put his
hands on his sub's butt cheeks and spread them, revealing his anus. He
pressed two fingers into the man's body, then withdrew them, and guided
Nightstick's hand up to the same point.

"Rubber – all the way in!" he announced. Curious and aroused, Master
Nightstick slid a finger tentatively into the beckoning hole. Here, the oil
or whatever it was, was thicker, the slickness complete. To his surprise,
Nightstick found that the other was right, all he could feel was the rubber
suit, even inside the bottom's arse.

The master moved the cross yet again. "Fuck him!" he said to Nightstick as
the sub's sphincter swung down level with Nightstick's cock, his body
suspended face down and the weights on the parachute dragging his nuts
toward the floor.

Nightstick leaned into the slave, his hands on the solid legs of the
equipment. He positioned his cockhead at the black opening and began to
press forward slowly.

"No, hard and fast!" came a guttural command from behind him, and the other
top shoved him in the back, forcing his cock deep into the cavern of the
sub's body.

The sensation was like nothing Nightstick had ever known before. The heat
inside that rectum was intense, the rubber sheath into which he thrust his
rod incredibly tight, yet so smooth, so slick that he slid in and out
effortlessly. He could feel the bottom flexing his sphincter around his
probing prong, yet there was none of the usual juicy wetness surrounding
him. As he fucked into the slave, enjoying these strange new sensations,
the other Master stood beside him, and produced another black latex
cock-sheath. He pulled it over his own cock and balls, and it fit just as
tightly as the suit his sub wore. Still watching Nightstick fuck his boi,
he began to fuck his own fist slowly.

"You wanna be the meat in our sandwich?" the man muttered low and lustily.

To reassure himself, Nightstick reached out and felt the other cock. Sure
enough, it was coated in the same invisible but incredibly slippery
substance that was all over the sub's body suit.

"Go ahead, friend," he smirked.

Immediately, the other was behind him, arms reaching around his torso as
the solidity of a long, hard rubber coated cock nudged at his rear. Without
letting up in his fucking of the suspended man tied to the cross,
Nightstick willed himself to relax, and nodded acceptance to the other
Master poised and waiting at his hole.

A whole new experience revealed itself as Nightstick was penetrated hard
and fast by the man. There was the usual momentary flash of discomfort he
felt on entry, but the blade which speared into him was so smooth, so slick
and so slippery, that it was almost as though he were not being fucked at
all, yet still filled and prodded inside. The other top began to pound at
him earnestly, forcing him harder and deeper into the slave at the same
time, and Nightstick bounced between the two in pleasurable ping pong. His
cock slipped in and out of the rubbered body, his innards prodded by some
indescribable object. Yet all he could really feel was the solid thwack as
the top's pelvis crashed against his butt cheeks, and his own hips slammed
into the rubber suit encasing the sub. Looking down, Nightstick could see
the weights hanging from the ball parachute swinging wildly, and pulling
the boi's nuts with them. A muffled groaning came to his ears, and he
realised that the sub was begging for more, as best he could through the
all-encompassing rubber.

***

Noah was in paradise. To be more accurate, Viking was in a sling; but it
all came down to the same thing. As Nick had pulled out of him and Rammer's
cock had filled the void he left, Noah was dimly aware of their parting
conversation.

"He's all yours, Rammer! And it looks like you've got an audience ..."

"Thanks, Trojan, I'll take care of him – I swear!"

Unable to move much with his wrists and ankles firmly shackled to the
sling's supports, he lifted his head enough to see that there were at least
three, maybe four, men standing not too far from the sling, closely
watching as Rammer, Nightstick and Trojan had alternated with each other in
filling his hungry arse with themselves. As his head fell back onto the
leather platform, his heart raced at the thought of being watched, of being
fucked so openly and being so closely examined at the same time. He began
to realise that he really liked being an exhibitionist, but that thought
was easily driven from his mind when Master Rammer whipped his long cock
out of Noah's arse once again, and replaced it with a thick, ridged dildo.

"Oh, fuck, yes, Sir!" Viking gasped at the new intrusion. "Use that hole,
Master! Please!"

Rammer laughed loudly, with an evil hiss. "Don't worry, Viking, it – you
– are going to get used and abused tonight!"

"Yes, Sir," the sub responded, his heart racing with anticipation as his
arse ached from the pounding it received through the thick black toy in
Rammer's fist.

As the solid latex dong filled his body, Viking felt Master Rammer's hands
explore his skin, running across his chest, down his abdomen, and gripping
his achingly hard cock. His balls were squeezed and pulled, his nipples
pinched and his shoulders gripped hard as he shuddered with delight,
swinging back and forward on the sling, his eyes drinking in the vision of
the leathered god who took control of him in this warm, musky place. He
hissed obscenities at his top, begging for more and gasping with pleasure
as his sphincter was ravaged by toy and cock, then toy again in ecstatic
alternation. He closed his eyes, surrendering to the delight visited upon
him, his entire nervous system racing and alive with the pleasure he
received.

Suddenly, he sensed another presence. Opening his eyes again, he found men
– hot, powerful, leather men, surrounding him, pressing in toward the
sling, staring at him and Master Rammer as they rutted together in the dark
heat. All about him was leather, chrome and flesh. Faces leaned over him
and cocks throbbed beside him as muscled chests bound in black stripes of
hide filled his vision. He felt Master Rammer wrench the toy from his body,
and once again the searing heat of Rammer's long sword pierced his
sphincter and jabbed into his gut.

"Fuck him, mate ..."

"Shove that cock into him ..."

"Take his cock, boy ..."

"Use his tight white arse, man ..."

A symphony of hissed and urgent whisperings floated down as the ring of
Masters closed in on the two of them and urged Rammer to pound Viking
harder and faster. Noah writhed in ecstasy, his manhole punctured a
thousand times by the ferocious spearing he received from the dominant man
between his legs.

"Holy Shit!" Rammer swore through clenched teeth. "I don't wanna cum yet
..." And almost reluctantly pulled back again, his wet and dripping prong
bouncing in time with his heartbeat. He turned to the man immediately to
his right.

"You fuck him!" he hissed.

"Fuck yeah!" replied the other, quickly pressing his cockhead up against
the winking entrance to Viking's body. Positioned to his satisfaction, the
top leaned in a little to grip the harness around Viking's chest, then
pulled it, and it's wearer, hard back onto himself, his thick meat driving
deep into the unresisting heat of the sub's bowel. The man began a rhythmic
pistoning in and out of Noah, always pulling at the harness, using it for
leverage to drive himself as deeply into that glorious hole as possible.

Lying back into the sling, being slammed by this stranger's cock, Viking
ached with pleasure. The faces, the bodies and the leathered muscles were
still creating a cocoon of dim heat as he surrendered his body to the
jabbing joy of the fleshy sword which filled him. His arms and legs were
held in place, unable to move, but he swivelled his head from side to side,
drinking in the view as best he could. He caught sight of Master Rammer,
standing close by his head on his right side.

"Okay?" the other man mouthed silently, his eyebrows lifted in question.

"Fuck yesss!" Viking grinned back at him, causing his concern to evaporate,
replaced by delight and lust.

Rammer stepped up closer to the rocking black platform and its human cargo,
his cock still glistening and wet. He took himself in hand and slapped his
juicy meat across the slave's face. Viking was taken by surprise, but as
the dom went to swing his prong a second time, he opened his mouth, trying
hard to capture that tasty log. Rammer happily obliged, feeding his long,
throbbing prick to the eagerly suctioning throat. As the other Master
fucked Viking's arse, Rammer fucked his throat, and the chorus of muttered
urging increased in volume and frequency.

After some time in this position, one of the other tops became impatient
with the man still thrusting steadily into Viking.

"Hey mate, give someone else a taste of that sweet man-pussy," he whined,
pulling the other man away as the sub's arse surrendered its throbbing pole
with a slurp. Without waiting for any invitation, this new top slid into
the still open chute in an easy movement, and as Viking's rectum swallowed
his rod, the Master groaned with pleasure. This guy preferred full strokes
when he fucked, and soon Noah was being filled and then emptied before
being filled again as his fucker pulled completely out of him with each
back stroke, before driving in again with ever increasing need and power.

The top he had displaced moved to the opposite side of Viking's body from
where Rammer stood, standing close into the slave and waving his cock over
the boi's head. Rammer looked him in the face and nodded a smile, which he
took as all the permission he needed. Soon his cock was jousting with
Master Rammer's for a chance to stab into the slave's face, and from time
to time they managed to get both cockheads into that open, sucking jaw. The
rest of the time they alternated between being sucked and wiping their
slippery manhoods across the sub's face and neck.

Several of the other Masters – as far as Noah could tell there were at
least four more men in addition to those who were already fucking him –
began to jerk themselves off, fisting their cocks over his body and
crowding closer and closer into him. Rammer took a break, stepping back,
just a little.

"Hey guys," Noah heard him say. "No need to hurry. We got all night, and
this slutty whore ain't goin' anywhere! Plenty of time for anyone who wants
it to get a piece of the action!"

Noah's heart skipped a beat. Not from fright or fear, but from the sudden
soaring sense of anticipation and arousal. He was going to be fucked by all
of these hot men, gang-banged here in this sling, and the idea was so hot
he shivered with delight. A throaty chorus of chuckles and approving grunts
surrounded him as the gathered tops happily awaited their turn to use his
body.

For what felt like hours, Viking was ravaged by an unending parade of men
in varying states of leathered garb. He was fucked hard and long, slow or
fast, probing or pounding. As soon as one guy had finished with him,
another took his place so that the slave's arse was never empty for more
than a few seconds, and he loved it. And when they had finished with his
sphincter, most of them moved around to fuck his face as well, or simply to
stand and masturbate over his body. His face, chest, stomach and pelvis
were covered in a thick coating of the combined jism of uncounted
testicles. Of the original group, some stayed, watching and waiting for a
second or even a third chance at filling him, whilst some disappeared only
to be replaced by other, newer cocks. Only Master Rammer remained the
constant, always there, always watching, sometimes fucking him again, or
thrusting into his gullet, but never leaving Viking alone.

Some of the men who fucked him did so quickly, pulling out with a gasping
roar. Some lasted for a long time, until they too spasmed and shot their
essence into him, or else were pushed aside by whoever was next in line and
becoming too impatient. Viking was certain his arse was leaking a river of
cum, surely he could not contain all the jizz being deposited into him, but
that didn't seem to deter the line of men who moved up to fill his
thoroughly stretched hole with their masculinity.

The gasping, breathy urges and slick, slapping jerks of the watching men
combined with the wet slurping of fucking rut into his body, and the
squeaking rattle of leather and chains to fill Viking's ears as the musky
aroma of sweat and leather mixed with a good dose of amyl to invade his
nostrils. His vision was filled with glistening, sweaty flesh and gleaming
lack leather while his body shook and shuddered beneath the constant
penetration and his innards filled again and again with the satin coated
steel of so many cocks. Noah was amazed to find that even after so much
abuse, his arse was still sensitive, and still delighting in the pounding
he received with each new invader. He was close to exploding innumerable
times, fighting to hold back, anxiously forcing himself to think of
something else until his ardour had cooled enough to fall back into the
indescribable bliss of being the centre of this maelstrom of masculine
mating.

It was only after several minutes of feeling somehow exposed, that Viking
realised the crowd had dispersed. He was till being fucked, a long, strong
poker of flesh riding over his prostate and filling his innards, yet he
opened his eyes to find the tops had moved on. Dimly, he heard a voice from
somewhere calling him.

"Viking? Are you okay mate?"

Looking down between his own legs, he found the smiling face of Master
Rammer. He nodded. "Yes, Sir."

It was Rammer's cock that filled him now, but a slow, almost leisurely
humping rather than the furious fucking he had known for the last – what
– hours? Days? Weeks? It could have been any, Viking had lost all track
of time. Now he let himself be lured into bliss, taking that cock and
writhing in ecstasy as Master Rammer slid his hand up and down the slave's
prong. With a gasp and a shudder, Viking surrendered to his orgasm, his
nuts contracting and his jism fountaining across the already cum encrusted
flesh and leather of his torso just as he felt the long shaft of his fuck
buddy tense and explode, adding even more seed to the copious amount
deposited within him already.

Easing down from the heights, he smiled gratefully at Rammer, who grinned
back in appreciation and sated desire. As he untied the shackles, and
helped Noah to stand, Master Rammer hummed tunelessly to himself, obviously
still enjoying this immensely. When Noah finally looked up, he saw Nick,
followed closely by Cumslut and Punk, walking towards them.

"Hey, you alright?" his partner asked.

Noah beamed at him. "I'm fucking fantastic, Sir," he declared
happily. Master Nightstick seemed to appear from nowhere to rejoin his
friends.

Cumslut looked around in the dimness. The party was breaking up, the number
of participants dwindling. "Looks like it's time to leave," he observed to
no-one in particular.

Rammer swung around slightly, taking in the scene. "I think you're right,
Cumslut," he concurred. "It must be late."

Slowly, coming back to reality from their respective nights, the other
three acknowledged that Rammer was right. With varying degrees of
tumescence, Nightstick, Trojan and Punk stood nearby, remnants of their
orgasms still dribbling from semi-hard pricks, beads of sweat covering the
sheened flesh not coated in glistening, if stained, leather.

"What a night!" Nick declared. "You guys really know how to throw a party."

With all six men in a small knot, it seemed they were among the last of the
participants still there. Cumslut looked at the other five men surrounding
him, drinking in once more the incredible sight of muscled sweaty bodies,
glimmering in leather and oozing masculinity – literally.

"It's a pity it has to end," he said wistfully.

"You got that right," Sean agreed, as he groped Noah's butt cheek, and
squeezed Bob's cock, at the same time ravaging Nick's body with his
stare. Incredibly, despite what they had just finished, all of them twinged
again, and their pricks all jumped with the onset of more excitement.

"Maybe it doesn't," Nightstick whispered low and lustily. "There's always
our dungeon back at home ... ?"

Rammer hummed. "Oh fuck, yeah," he hissed. "I'm up for it if you guys are."

Nick threw a questioning glance at Noah, who grinned mischievously.

"Holy fuck, you guys are insatiable," muttered Peter with a chuckle.

"Is that a problem?" Nick asked with genuine concern. None of them would
push anyone into something they didn't want to do.

"Not for me, Sir!" Cumslut growled

Punk hissed again. "Or me. I'll take all three of you, Sirs, and beg for
more!" he said in a guttural offer too good to resist.

"That's what I'm here for," Viking observed. "Just a hole to be used and
filled, Master!"

Nightstick laughed again. "Sean, Will, we'll see you at our place. You got
your car?"

The others nodded.

"Then what are we standing around here for?" He led them out of the
building, asking a group of four men standing by another car if they knew
what time it was.

"Almost four," one replied.

"Perfect," he said to Nick. "At this time of the morning, I think we can
roar our way right through town on these machines, leathered, sweaty and
covered in cum! What do you think?"

Nick simply laughed, throwing his leg over the bike and kicking it into
life.

The ride back to Richmond, through the empty streets of Melbourne at 4.00
am on a Saturday morning, was even more exhilarating than the journey over
on the previous night. Bob and Nick opened up the monster bikes, and roared
through downtown, the wind in their faces, the reek of mansex heavy on
their bodies.

"In-fucking-credible!" Nightstick declared as they stepped away from the
machines.

Sean and Will were not far behind, and soon the six of them were once more
groping at each other as the urge of heady passion enveloped them and the
welcoming blackness of Bob and Peter's dungeon lured them into it's warm
embrace. Yet once they were inside that welcoming dimness, none of them
seemed overly enthusiastic about renewing their passionate couplings. The
exertions of the evening had taken their toll, and all six men seemed happy
to simply lie about with each other, caressing and groping, trailing
fingers and lips across sheened skin, merely enjoying the company and the
intimacy.

"None of you are leaving for a while yet, are you?" Nightstick asked in a
low voice.

The other five men looked at him in surprise.

"Have you changed your mind?" Rammer asked incredulously.

"Not at all! But it seems to me that we could use a bit of recuperation
before we really get started again. I'm just offering a drink and some
talking for now, as long as nobody is driving anywhere."

A feeling of relief, mixed with a curious and surprising sense of
anticipation, a thrill of promised things to come, ran through the others,
as they assured their host they would stay. Nightstick went to the kitchen
for beers all round, and Peter followed him, helping carry the drinks back
to their friends.

"This is a great play space," Nick commented to Rammer and Cumslut while
the others were out of the room.

"Oh yeah," the other Master agreed. "We play with Nightstick and Punk
fairly often, and usually in here. They've done a great job on it."

"You're from Sydney, Master Trojan?" Cumslut asked Nick.

"That's right."

"Do you have anything like this?"

"We have a playroom of our own, downstairs in the basement. Not as well
equipped as this, but comfortable enough for us and a few friends," Nick
answered.

"What about you, Sir?" Noah joined in. "Do you have your own area?"

"Not really. We've converted a bedroom for just us – set up a sling and
made it perfect for us, but it's not really big enough to accommodate a
group. You have some regular fuck-buddies you play with at home?"

"Uh huh," Noah confirmed. "In fact, that's how we got to know Master
Nightstick and Punk. We play quite often with Master Sabre and his boy
Eagar. Sabre used to live here in Melbourne. He knew Punk. He introduced us
a couple of weeks ago.

At that point, Nightstick and Punk rejoined the group.

"So why are you in Melbourne?" Rammer was asking. "Are you staying here
long?"

Nick stammered a little. Things were getting very close to home now, as
they stood here, talking with Patrick's twin brother, who obviously had no
idea who they were.

"Beers!" interjected Nightstick quickly. The six of them relaxed on the
soft leather covered mattress, sipping their drinks in a slightly awkward
silence.

Bob Moran figured it was time for the whole story to be told.

"Sean, Will, I guess you should know a bit more about our guests, now that
we've, umm, been `intimate' with them."

Sean laughed. "That's one way to put it. But what does it matter? You seem
like nice guys – what more is there to know?"

"Sorry if we haven't been completely upfront until now," Bob went on, "But
the circumstances didn't really allow for small talk before. Trojan and
Viking are Nick and Noah, friends we met recently through an old friend of
Peter's by the name of David ..."

"Is that the `Sabre' you mentioned?" Sean asked.

"Uh huh," Nick nodded.

Bob went on. "But I actually met them a week earlier – as part of an
investigation I was called into." Both Sean and will appeared curious, but
said nothing. "Actually, they were, or even still are, guests of Wes
Arrows-Smith. They were staying at his home the night he was murdered!"

"What the ..." Sean looked stunned. Will's eyes widened considerably, and
he suddenly seemed very concerned as he watched his man's reactions
carefully.

"Please don't be angry," Bob said quickly. "We would have told you earlier
if there had been an opportunity."

"Now I recognise you," Sean blurted out. "I thought you were familiar, but
I just couldn't place you. You were at Uncle Wes' funeral."

That's right," said Noah, slowly.

"Sean, they had nothing to do with what happened." Bob moved to his friend,
gripping his forearm. "Nick and Noah simply happened to be there doing a
favour for David – Sabre – from Sydney. He knew Wes quite well. After
the murder, I asked them to stay on a bit, to see if they could help me
with my enquiries."

"What about my brother?" Sean asked quickly. "Does Patrick know ... about
this?" he waved his arms around the room. "Does he know where you are, what
you get into?"

"Not at all," Nick responded instantly. "We told him we were visiting some
friends in the city for tonight. That's all."

"We got the impression that your brother doesn't particularly like
leather," Noah added. "He made some comments about our riding gear when we
rented the bikes!"

"That's an understatement!" Sean cursed. "Patrick detests leather, and
detests anyone who is `into' leather, in any way shape or form."

Noah spoke in a quiet, apologetic voice. "Sean, we're sorry if we've upset
you. There was no intention to deceive, no ulterior motive. We were just
looking for a good night out, and Bob and Peter asked us along,. It's sheer
coincidence that you were there as well."

"It's certainly a small world!" Will observed in a low voice.

Sean simmered for a few minutes, sipping at his beer, his eyes down. But
slowly his tensed frame relaxed, and his face lifted, his eyes
re-appraising the two men from Sydney, and seeking reassurance from his
friends. Bob's face was a study in concern and sympathy.

"Sean, I would have told you earlier, but we kinda ..." his voice trailed
away.

The younger man recalled their initial contact the previous evening, and
the slightest trace of a smile swept over his lips. Again he looked at Nick
and Noah, looked at them hard. He remembered what they had shared in the
last hours, and he grinned openly.

"Oh, fuck, it doesn't matter. I can hardly be angry at you if you had
nothing to do with it. And fuck knows I can't stay mad at anyone who is as
hot you guys are. Shit, I'd forgive anything for more of what we've done
tonight!"

Nick chuckled throatily. "I think we can both say a huge thank you for that
– the fucking sex I mean, as well as for not getting upset."

"You know, it might help to talk about how you feel, openly, mate," Peter
added. "These guys were there, but they're not involved. And you don't have
to hide anything from them!"

"We've got nothing left to hide!" Sean laughed this time, his arm around
Will, drawing his lover into himself. "Did Uncle Wes ever mention me?" he
asked suddenly.

"No, but then we only met him the day before he was ... you know," Nick
stammered.

"The first we knew of your existence was when you were arguing with Patrick
at the wake," Noah offered.

"Bloody Patrick!" Sean stated vehemently. "Sometimes I could just hate
him!"

Nick looked sideways at Noah, but it was Noah who spoke.

"That's strange, because Patrick told us that you do hate him. That you
have hated him for years. And that you hated your uncle as well."

"No, not at all," Sean sighed tiredly. "I didn't hate them. I was angry
with Pat, furious even, because of the way he used Uncle Wes. And Uncle Wes
fell for his lies, wouldn't listen to my side of the story. He forbade me
to come to the house, refused to take my calls. He didn't want anything to
do with me, and that hurt, because it was all Pat's doing."

"What did happen all those years ago, Sean?" Bob asked. "I want to know as
your friend, not as a cop. Whatever you tell me will stay between us if you
want. You never mentioned him and we've known you for years. When I met
Patrick the night of the murder, I nearly fell over with shock. I thought
it was you until he introduced himself."

Sean shrugged his shoulders. "Didn't seem to be any point in telling you
about him. We never spoke, rarely even saw each other, unless accidentally
in a bar or a club somewhere. Even then, he usually ignored me."

Will twisted in Sean's arms. "Tell them your side of the story, hon," he
urged. "otherwise, all they have to go on is whatever lies Pat has fed
them."

"There's not that much to tell," his lover went on. "Pat is a user. He
didn't really care for Uncle Wes, he was just out for whatever he could get
from him – a nice home, plenty of money, fancy cars. If anything, he
thought Uncle Wes was just a sad old queen, too conservative for his own
good. Before he went to live there, back when we still talked, he used to
brag that he could get the old guy to give him anything he wanted, and he
didn't even have to put out – like a sugar daddy without the tacky sex.

"When Pat moved in to Wes' house, I used to see him around town, spending
up big, making a name for himself, chasing all the pretty young twinks. I
tried to warn Uncle Wes, tried to tell him he was being used. Pat showed up
that day, and accused me of trying to rape him! Can you believe it, my own
brother! Wes was furious. He wouldn't listen to me, told me I was the one
trying to use him. He told me he was disowning me, that he never wanted to
see me again. It was just like with our parents all over again. Being
rejected by one family is hard enough, but being rejected by the family who
took you in after the first round is just unbearable."

"But why wouldn't Wes listen to you – if he accepted you when your
parents threw you out. Surely he must have had feelings for you?" Nick
asked, dumbfounded by what had happened to this young man.

"Patrick, I guess," Sean answered. "He knows how to talk the talk, knows
what to say, what people want to hear. He can be pretty persuasive when he
wants to be. My guess is that from the moment he went to live with Uncle
Wes, he would have been undermining me, slowly chipping away, convincing
Wes that I was evil."

"Why on earth would he do that? I thought you said the two of you were
still talking back then?" Peter asked.

"No, we stopped speaking before Pat went to live there. One of the reasons
he went to live with Uncle Wes was because he got hurt, hurt badly. He
blamed me for that. It's also why he hates anything to do with leathermen."

"What happened?" Noah prompted.

"It all goes back to home. Obviously, we grew up together. We shared
everything, as twins do. And I think we both realised we were gay at around
the same time. So when we came out to my parents, we did it together –
supporting each other I suppose. Maybe we hoped they couldn't be too mad at
both of us. But we were wrong. They threw us out on the spot.

"Luckily, we were old enough to fend for ourselves. So we moved into a tiny
flat in St Kilda, the pair of us. We still did everything together, but we
started to find that we had slightly different tastes. I worked out fairly
early that I had this thing for leather and men in leather. I was a natural
top, and dominant, and I started getting some gear together, going to
leather bars, meeting up with master/slave type guys like myself. Patrick,
on the other hand, liked nothing better than a pretty young face. He went
after the gorgeous ones who wore the designer clothes and drank the right
cocktails, ate at the right cafes, and danced in the right clubs.

"I used to drag along with him some nights, but didn't really enjoy that
scene. Same for him. He would tag along to the leather bars I went to, but
wasn't really interested, and bit by bit we started going out alone. One
night – it was a Thursday – he didn't come home. Not that it was
unusual for him to stay out all night, but rarely during the week. I wasn't
too concerned, but when he still hadn't come home by Sunday afternoon I was
starting to get seriously worried. He showed up Monday night, aching and
bruised, shivering and crying."

"He was beaten up?" Nick asked quickly.

"Kinda," Sean muttered. "He told me he had gone out looking for me on the
Thursday night, wanted us to be `the twins' again. He tried several places,
drinking more at each place while he looked for me. At some S&M club in
Fitzroy, he was still drinking, and decided he wasn't going to find me,
when some guy offered to give him a lift home. But instead of taking him
home, this guy took him somewhere – he said he lost track and has no
idea where it was – and dragged him inside. I was never able to work out
whether his drink had been spiked, or if maybe he had gone willingly to
begin with. You could never tell with Pat.

"Anyway, when they got inside this place, there were three other men
waiting. Pat says he was tied up with some rope first, then chains and
shackles – hand and ankle cuffs. They stripped him, and dressed him in a
harness, put a collar around his neck, a gag in his mouth and a full hood
over his head, and from then until Monday morning these three guys, maybe
more, he thought; used him as their slave. The way he tells the story, if
he struggled or tried to protest they whipped him or slapped him around. He
said they fucked him, they used dildoes and plugs on him, they hung him
upside down and took turns at abusing him."

By this time, Sean was near to tears. He stopped and took a deep breath,
looking around at his friends, and himself. "For any of us, I'm guessing it
would have been one hell of a hot session, but we all consent and want
it. Pat didn't. he hated it. When they finally let him go, he was dumped in
a laneway in Abbotsford with his clothes thrown on top of him. That was
Monday afternoon. He dressed himself and came home."

"So he was raped," Noah said simply. "There's no other word to describe
it."

"I guess so," Sean agreed.

"And that's why he can't stand anything to do with leather?" Peter asked.

"Partly," Sean muttered. "He got over the `attack' or whatever you call it,
but it took him a long time to get up the courage to go out alone
again. But what drove us apart was that he seemed to think that as a result
of what had happened, I should stop going out to leather bars too. When I
told him that what happened to him was wrong, but wasn't a true indication
of the scene, and that I was who I was, and I was still into leathermen and
not going to change, that's when we fought. And that's when he told Uncle
Wes what had happened. He swore to Wes that he was psychologically damaged
by the attack, and Wes insisted he move into the house down at Arthur's
Seat."

"So as far as we can work out, Pat convinced Wes that Sean was pure evil,
because he was part of the leather scene, part of the scene that had abused
and hurt Pat that weekend," Will finished for his partner.

"That's awful," Nick said softly, verbalising the thoughts of all in the
room.

Sean managed a weak smile. "I could use another drink after telling that
story?" he asked.

Peter stood quickly. "I'll get them – another for everyone."

Bob moved to his close friend, managing to include both Will and Sean in a
hug. "I'm so sorry, mate. I had no idea what you had been through back
then."

Noah looked at the young man with concern and pity. "Sean, tell me to butt
out, if you want ... but why did you bother going to the funeral?"

"Because Wes was still my Uncle. I wanted to pay my respects. And I guess I
was hoping Pat may have changed, just a little, been ready to talk to me."

"Is that why you argued with him?" Noah pressed.

"I guess it was. He told me I wasn't welcome there, that it was his home
now. He told me he never wanted to see me, told me to get out of the house
– again!"

"Patrick told us that you were demanding a share of Wes' Estate," Nick said
in surprise.

"Well, he didn't lie to you on that. I did say to him that I wasn't going
to let him just take all of Uncle Wes' money, that I wanted my share. Of
course, he refused, told me I wouldn't see a cent." He looked around at the
surprise on the faces surrounding him. "I don't really want or need the
money," he explained. "But after what Pat has done, I just wanted to try to
stop him from getting it all. He used Uncle Wes while he was alive, and it
seems to me that he's is just going to keep on using whim even after he is
dead."

The six men lay back where they were, drinking silently. But the silence
was not an uncomfortable one. Somehow, together as they were, garbed in
their leathers and cocooned in the dim warmth of Nightstick and Punk's
dungeon, they felt safe and protected from the harsh reality of the world
outside. Here, in this place, still sticky with the residue of lusty sex,
they were united and empowered by each other and themselves.

Breaking the silence, Sean turned to face the cop. "Bob, I told myself I
wouldn't ask, since I didn't want to push our friendship into `business',
but after all of this coming out – well, do you have any suspects?"

Still in his Master's wear, detective Moran grinned. "It's not stretching
our friendship. If I have any concrete information I'll tell you. At this
point, there are three real possibilities that I'm looking at, and the most
likely seems to be one that Nick and Noah brought to my attention."

"Seriously?" Sean looked at the pair again. "Are you guys cops in Sydney or
something?"

Nick laughed. "No way! We just seem to get ourselves mixed up in things,
and we have a knack for finding out stuff the cops don't get to hear. We're
doing what we can to help Bob with his investigation."

Moran laughed too. "In fact, Sean, they don't always get it
right. Yesterday afternoon, Noah was suggesting to me that YOU were a
serious suspect! But that was because he didn't have all the facts
available – and hadn't heard your side of the story."

Noah blushed so deeply his discolouration could be seen even in the
darkness. "I'm sorry, Sean," he stammered.

"It's forgotten," Sean laughed, then lowered his voice to a lusty
whisper. "Although, I don't know that I'm finished with `punishing' you
yet!"

That brought a round of approving murmurs from all of them, including Noah,
and more than one of the men felt that familiar twitch in his groin.

"You know," said Will, "I always wanted Sean to be able to tell his story
to someone else; to be able to get it off his chest. But I thought it would
be a psychiatrist, in a sterile office. I never expected it to be told to a
group of the hottest leathermen I've ever met, lying back in a dungeon,
dressed in leather like this," he grinned as he waved his arm around to
encompass them.

"It's better this way," Sean said, almost to himself. "It's better shared
with friends."

"And better put aside, too," Bob added. "Not forgotten, but left in the
past, so you can get on with your life. In some ways, I'm surprised that
what happened to Patrick didn't make you want to turn your back on the
leather scene."

"Never," Sean affirmed. "I know what happened to him was wrong. But I also
know that it's not what really happens. It's not the way we play. I am what
I am, and I like it!"

"So do I!" stated Will, his hand sliding down Sean's abdomen to close
around the long fleshy tube of his Master's cock.


... to be continued ...


This story is a fantasy, it is not real and only happened in my
imagination. YOU MUST REMEMBER that in the real world, you can DIE from
having unsafe sex. It is your right and your duty to make sure that condoms
are always used, whether you are giving or receiving. It doesn't matter how
good looking or how ugly he is, and it doesn't matter whether you are top
or bottom, USE A CONDOM!