Date: Fri, 7 Jan 2000 00:00:26 EST
From: DennisR539@aol.com
Subject: My Master, My Son (part 4  Incest/gay, Authoritarian/gay, Urination/gay

This story is about male on male sex. It involves men and boys, some of whom
are related. If you do not like that kind of thing you are free to exercise
your right NOT to read it. If you are underage, you should be doing homework
right now and not playing around in this kind of site. So depart.

If you like it, let me know. Since the story is fantasy, the characters do
not practice safe sex. You should, however. Besides, I can not think of
anything safer than a JO to a story. Email me if you want to make some
comments.

Read Parts 1,2 ,and 3 to understand this part.

My Master, My Son (Part 4)
By Dennis

Chapter 7-Punishment

My life had settled into a routine, with the boys adding something new to
spice it up day by day. For example there was the butt plug. Chuck had picked
it up in a "leather" store in the city. The suburb where we live would not
have allowed that kind of establishment. I was to wear it all the time,
everyday, except when told to remove it, or to go to the toilet. They at
least let me have some leeway there. On the  third morning after I started
wearing it, I was rushed to get to work. I left it in the first floor
bathroom after I took a dump. I did not discover the omission until I got to
school.

"Well, that's alright," I thought, "I will be home before the boys and can
put it in then. They will never know." There had been hints of dire
consequences if I failed to exactly follow the rules they were laying down. I
did not want to provoke something. The tone of Chuck's voice and the leering
smiles of Juan and Miller made me fearful of what they might be planning.

What I did not know was that the technical school  Miller was going to was
closed that day. Miller had forgotten about it too. He had gone all the way
there, turned around and was back at the house by about 9. He had found the
plug sitting on the toilet tank. He rushed over to Chuck's school and told
him. Chuck said to wait until my lunch time at the middle school and confront
me with it. He would take care of the punishment that night.

Miller showed up about 5 minutes before the students and I were to eat .
Telling the office secretary that he was my nephew, he asked them to call me
to tell me to wait in my room so that he could give me something. When I
heard that my "nephew" Miller was there to see me, my heart stopped. I was
filled with dread. What the fuck was that bastard doing here? This is where I
work. If they pulled any crap here, it might mean the end of my job.

The students and other teachers went to lunch. I stood in the hallway as
Miller sauntered  toward me. We were all alone. I thought the sound of my
racing heart would echo off the walls.

"Hey pig, anywhere private where we can talk?"

"Miller, what are you doing here?"

"Ahh, pig, is that the way you talk to me?"

"Okay. Master, why have you come to see me, Sir."

"Answer the question. Private? Talk? Where?"

"My classroom?"

"Not private enough."

"We can use the faculty men's room. There is a lock on the hall door."  There
was a urinal and toilet stall inside. If anyone came by, two guys inside
would be reasonable.

When we were inside and the door locked he asked, "How long do we have?"

"An hour. They get recess after lunch"

"Strip!"

"Here? Now? Ummm, Master?"

He came closer and looked me in the eyes, "We say, you do! Or did you forget
that already, pig?"

"Yes. Master."

I quickly removed my clothes and threw them into the corner. I assumed the
submission stance.

"On your knees!" Oh great, he wants me to service him. Why the fuck couldn't
he have just jerked off like every other teenager in the world.

He dropped his pants and boxers and stepped out of them. He left  his shirt
on. His dick was soft. The snake just hung there 4 inches from my face.

"Now , get me hard!" I lavished attention to his crotch and lower body, using
my hands and mouth, toying with his balls, rubbing  sensitive places on his
thighs and chest, licking with my tongue, taking his cock head in my mouth.
He got hard. I pulled back. He turned, leaned against the wall with his hands
and spread his legs slightly.

"You know what to do. Do it!" This had become their way of demonstrating
their superiority to me. If you sucked ass, you were a pig, not worthy of
respect. I sucked and licked his asshole. "That's a real man's hole, pig, not
a pussy like you have, right?"

"Yes Master, this is a man's hole," and  went back to licking.

He turned and said, "Now put my cock in your mouth and listen. You forgot
something this morning, pig. Know what it was?" Since I couldn't answer with
his dick in my mouth, I just nodded. He held the buttplug down where I could
see it, "You were told that this had to be in at all times unless we told you
to take it out, right? You've been a naughty boy, pig. I've been sent to set
it right. Chuck says he will deal with your not following the rules tonight.
Now, stand up, turn around, and bend over."

I steeled my self to have him push the plug in. Instead he grabbed my hips
and pushed his cock into my pussy. As directed, I had kept it lubed. He
slipped in easily. Before all this happened, getting fucked was a rarity. Now
it  happened every day.

As he pushed in and out he said, "Tell me how much you like the feel of my
cock in your ass.

As I lavished  praise on his fucking technique I thought, "Oh god, here I am,
a  teacher, loved and feared by my students, respected by my peers, praised
by parents, a man who should be proud and what is happening to me? I am naked
in my school with this man-child fucking me while I tell him how much I like
being abused like this. Here I had felt safe, in control. But they have the
power over me even here. I am their plaything. That's it, a thing to be used,
 thing without the ability to resist.

He continued to fuck me slow and easy, not in any hurry to end my ordeal.
Finally he stiffened and drove into me, emptying himself. When he was done he
pulled out unceremoniously and said, "Stay like that," and pushed in the
plug. "Goes in easy after a fuck, right pig?"

"Yes, Master"

"Won't  forget it anymore, will you pig.?"

"No master, I won't"

"Now kneel. I have to piss."

After he relieved himself in me and I licked his cock clean he said, "Help me
get dressed. Now, pig, jerk yourself off and catch your jis in your hand."

It was not easy. I had not gotten hard during all this. I didn't enjoy the
fuck or sucking his cock. It was forced on me. But after playing with it for
a while and doing some visualization, I got hard and finally came. I caught
most of the cum in my hand, a few drops falling to the tile floor.

"Now, rub it all over your chest. It had better be there when you come home.
Then lick up those drops on the floor. Oh yeah, on your way home stop and get
some beer. We're out.!"  He dropped a 20 on the floor.

While I was down on my hands and knees, I heard the door open and close. When
I looked up, he was gone. I dove for the door to lock it. Damn, if anyone had
come in, if anyone had seen me, naked on the floor, licking... I laid down on
the cool tiles and sobbed. "Why is this happening to me? What have I done to
deserve this."

I got up and put on my clothes. The cum on my chest was drying. I felt for
the head of the plug. They were both reminders of my place in life, now.

No one was home when I got there. I stripped and got busy with the house
chores. The boys came home and dumped their stuff. It was my job to take it
upstairs for them. They said  nothing to me. They went out back and played
touch football. I put on dinner and then went into the bathroom to check my
body hair. I was supposed to make sure that I was always "as smooth as a
babies ass". I used the razor and got off any stubble. I had no idea what
Chuck was planning but I wanted no reason to annoy him. Then I got out a
Fleet Enema and cleaned out my insides. I  lubed my asshole with Vaseline,
and slid the plug back in.

As the winter sun set, the boys came in. They went upstairs. Still, they did
not talk to me. When dinner was ready, I went up and told them, "Masters,
your food is prepared."

After serving them, I filled my dog dish and sat on the floor and ate. Then
they popped open a couple of cans of beer and went into the living room. I
could hear parts of their conversation as I cleaned up.

"Yeah, but we have to make a lesson out of this...punishment...have to get
that stuff we need...tomorrow I am going into the city. I will...but what
about tonight...we could...no too easy..Hey, I know..."

Then the call I was dreading, "Pig, come here!"

I went into the living room. Chuck said, "Here pig, in front of me," He sat
in the easy chair, my easy chair, well my old easy chair in my former life. I
stood there naked, looking at the floor.

"Well, what do you have to say."

"Nothing, Master. It was stupid. I will not forget in the future."

"But there is more. I understand that you were disrespectful to Master
Miller. Is that right?

I felt like a child, being chastised by his parent, being forced to confess
and apologize.
I looked at the floor, "Yes Master, I was. I beg your pardon Master Miller.
This is all new to me."

"Well, we have to make an object lesson out of this so that you will always
remember. Respect has to be earned but respectful behavior is learned. And
we", gesturing around the room, " are your teachers." Then quietly and with
menace, "Tell me Dad, do you remember that speech. I do. I was 8 at the time.
I forget what you it was that I was supposed to have done but you said it to
me in a room like this. I didn't do it, you know. I was innocent. It was
Mother's word against mine. And you took her side. Tell me, pig, do you
remember what you did to impress me with the lesson?"

I tried to remember. Then I did. I looked up. My eyes must have gotten huge
when it dawned on me what he was talking about.

"Ahh, he remembers."

Just then the front door opened and Anthony came in followed by a blast of
cold air. He took his place with the others and listened. I started to shiver
but it was not from the cold. It was the memory.

"You spanked me. On my bare butt. I still can feel the sting."

"Please, Chuck, you can't mean this. Not here in front of your friends." I
started to cry. I could not believe that this was happening to me. I was
starting to lose it. They were treating me like an errant child. And there
was no appeal.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Another breach of the rules. You really do need this lesson,
pig. Each of us will give you 6 smacks on each of the cheeks of your ass. You
will lay across each of our laps when we do it. When you lay down, you will
ask to get spanked. Between each smack you will ask for another. Then you
will apologize to each of us for breaking the rules and ask our pardon.
Miller will give you 10, for your disrespect to him. Understand?"

Between my sobs I answered, "Yes Master, I understand"

"Take out the plug. Anthony first, then Juan, then Miller, and finally me.
Remember, this hurts us more than it hurts you." With that they all got
hysterical.

"Good one Chuck." "Shit, yeah"

"Alright, lets get started. There is a basketball game I want to see tonight."

And my new degradation started. As I went from boy to boy, my ego sank lower
and lower. To be spanked  when you're an adult is bad enough. To have it done
in front of an audience by your son and his buddies was lower than I ever
thought I would sink.

The pain was tremendous, the worse that I can ever remember feeling. And it
seem to go on forever. I drifted in and out of reality. I could hear myself
sobbing and crying and begging, "Please Master, no more." But it did not
stop. By the time I got to Chuck, it felt like it had gone on always. After
Chuck took his last shot, I lay exhausted over his knees. He told me to
stand.

As I stood there, ashamed to have cried in front of these boys, I could hear
them whistling. "Wow, look at that. That's redder than I think I have ever
seen. Wonder if he will be black and blue from it?"

I have heard that some men get a hardon from being spanked, that they enjoy
it. That time I didn't. The embarrassment and pain prevented it from
happening. I knew  that this was not the last of my physical or mental
punishment. I also knew the meaning of the old cliche, "I couldn't sit down
for a week."

>From Chuck, "Now, pig, put in the plug and make up an ice pack in the
kitchen. Go down to the basement and apply it to your backside. It will
prevent any black and blue marks. You are relieved of duty for the rest of
the night. I don't want to look at you, anyway. Now come over here and kiss
me on the cheek and tell me you won't be a bad boy anymore."

More derisive laughter. I did as I was told, and went down stairs. In the den
I could here the game and them talking. I knew no one would bring me cookies
and milk and tell me they loved me. He had forgotten that.

Chapter 7. The Boy's Stories and Other Things

As the days progressed, through overheard conversations, I pieced together
what made the boys the way they were.

Juan had been the result of his mother selling her body for drug money. His
father was white and his mother, Hispanic. He wasn't brought up, he was
dragged up. Ignored, he learned to fend for himself. He practically lived in
the street. When his mother used heroin she was real mellow. But when she
used crack, she beat him. He ran away a lot.

The men who fucked her did it while he was there, at  times calling him over
to watch. By the time he was 9, some were offering him money to suck them
off. At first he didn't but after a while, the lure of the money was too
much. He started putting out  first with his mouth and then, by the time he
was 10, with his ass. When his mother realized that she could make as much
off his body as she was making from her own, she started selling him. Groups
of men would come by and he would get gang banged. She would help them to do
it. Or they would have him suck their cocks and then stick it into his mother
or vice versa. They would get fucked side by side on the same bed. There were
even some cops who gave her protection and took it out in trade on her or on
him. And frequently his mother's customers beat him.

When he was 12, his mother died from an overdose. He went to live in Spanish
Town with his grandmother. She tried to do right by him, but the seeds had
been planted. At least with her, he didn't have to prostitute himself to eat.
So he sort of loved her. On the plus side, he never became a drug addict. He
saw what it did to his mother. Because of the busing rules, he went to
Chuck's high school. That's how they met.

Miller was just an abused child. Not sexually but physically. His father was
a drunk. His mother was unable to intervene to stop it. He hated them both.
He was beaten on a daily basis. When sober, his father was a really good
technician. That's where Miller got his talent with computers. Despite a
quirk in his personality that made him want to punish the world, he was good
with both hardware and software. He had authored a  really nasty virus and
when he was caught, not only did the state and school punish him but so did
his father. At school he was so disruptive that they suspended him all the
time. Finally he just dropped out and into technical school. He was a friend
of Juan before he met Chuck.

Anthony was a different story altogether. Although his father sometimes used
a strap to punish him, he was not really abusive. His father had been a
wrestler so both his sons became wrestlers. His mother was long gone, dead or
run away, I was not sure which.

His father had  a sexual relationship with his father. As a result, he had
one with his sons. First his older brother, and then,  by the time he was 10,
with Anthony. He would have them both at the same time or individually and
encouraged them to have sex with each other. The boys and his father would
have 4 ways with his grandfather. When Anthony or his brother went to see
Grandpa it was usually for sex.

Despite all of this, he was not loved by anyone. There was no emotional
intimacy in his family, only lust. He was angry but he was also looking for
something else. He had attached himself to Chuck as soon as Chuck had
registered for high school. Chuck gave him the love and respect he did not
get at home.

Chuck was the leader of the group. That was obvious. They followed him in all
things. Why? I am not sure. I think he was a natural born leader. He knew
what buttons to push and when. He knew when to apply pressure. He always got
his way with them. They looked up to him.

I heard a couple of his talks to them. He could have sold ice to Eskimos. If
things were different, he would have made one hell of a politician. Maybe he
would still become one. He was young. In my subjugation, he had played on
every emotion that the other boys had. He worked them like a musician worked
on an instrument . They did not even question why they were doing this. If
Chuck said it was alright then it was alright. How come he was a sadist I
could never figure out.

He turned Juan and Miller loose on me and they were always looking for new
things to do to me.What did they come up with?  Well they would have  me lay
down in the tub and piss into my own mouth. They would put the hose from the
kitchen sink in my pussy and let the water fill up my rectum. They were
careful not to overdo that one. They could have killed me with too much
pressure. When they filled me up they would make me stand and hold it while
they played with my cock. When they finally let me go to the bathroom, the
water would come out of me like a fire hose. They would fuck me and then
leave their cocks in me. and give me a piss enema. When I sucked them, they
would piss in my mouth to "wash it down". They delighted in abusing my tits,
cock, and balls. They would get me hard and then flick my cock with their
fingers.

Chuck was constantly picking up new toys and trying them out on me. Clothes
pins advanced to tit clamps. which advanced to rings in my nipples. Have to
say, once the initial pain went away, the stimulation was great. I didn't
tell them that but they might have figured it out if they had seen me playing
with them when I was alone. They just liked to pull on them or hang weights
on them to hear me scream.

They put hooks into the beams in the basement. Then, using wrist restraints,
they would hang me from them, fucking and beating me. Chuck had gotten a
flail and a paddle. Sometimes they just used a folded over garrison belt.
They delighted in using them on me. The amount and severity of the abuse
depended on the kind of day they had. When Chuck got a low grade on
something, he took it out on me.

I don't know why, but I began to like being beaten. I read somewhere that you
get an endorphine rush, once you get use to the pain. Whatever it was,
although I pleaded with them not to do it, secretly I enjoyed it. As soon as
they hung me up I was hard. They would beat me, then fuck me, then beat me
again as I would cry out, "No master, please have mercy."

They used ball stretchers and cock restraints and rings of hell. They would
hang me up, strap on a ball stretcher and  hang a bucket on it. Then they
would slowly fill up the bucket with water until I was screaming in pain.
They would do that with my dick too. Another time they tied me down spread
eagle and lifted my feet, attaching a rope from my raise legs to my balls and
cock so that I could not put  my legs down with out ripping my cock out by
the roots. All this stretching seemed to be making my cock longer and my
balls hang lower.

They hooked up some pulleys to the beams and, using ankle restraints, pulled
me up, my head hanging down, so that  my mouth was at cock height. They would
face fuck me and beat me, shoving things in my pussy. They would say that the
stretching was good for the back. My cock and balls, exposed, unprotected and
hanging down pointing towards my head were available for their abuse.

Any time they read of anything in a magazine or saw something on a video or
on the internet, they wanted to try it with me. I was sure that it was only a
matter of time before they fisted me.

And there was always the sex with them, violent sex. Even in bed they would
slap me or punch me. They usually doubled up on me, switching back and forth
from pussy to mouth, working me at both ends.

Anthony was different. Oh, he did the domination thing but not the physical
torture. He would cuff me or chain me to the bed and then have sex with me,
taking my load in his mouth or up his ass while I did the same. The times
when he slept over, he would keep me in his bed and snuggle after sex,
kissing me. Then he would get up and drop his asshole over my mouth or feed
me piss. He wanted to feel in control. I let him.

On weekends the boys had parties at the house with their friends from around
town. They would lock me in the basement so that I could not be discovered.
There were girls there too, and from the look of the bedrooms and the condoms
lying about the next morning, a lot of hetero sex. Miller, Juan and Chuck
participated in that, but from what I could tell, not Anthony. They had me
get kegs for them that were usually empty by the next morning. Of course it
was my job to clean up the puke when it was over. They also did marijuana and
maybe other drugs too.

I kept expecting the cops to break up the parties, but they never did. I was
always reading about  that in the town paper. But they didn't do it to the
ones the boys threw. The closest they ever came was to stop by the house and
tell the boys to lower the volume.

There was a mystery, however. The boys would sometimes disappear all night or
after school, either individually or, at times, together. Or they would be
gone for several hours, usually in the evening. What happened during these
sojourns was never discussed, at least not in front of me.

When it came to money, Chuck was in charge. He had me put his name on my
checking account. He would pay the bills on time, calling me in when he
didn't understand something. Left over money he would put into a savings
account in his name. I only got my allowance. If I had special purchases to
make, he would give me money and then count the change. And he did not abuse
my credit cards. When I finally worked up the nerve to ask him about his
savings account, Chuck told me that he would need money if he was to ever get
out of this town.

He also made other deposits that did not come from me. For boys who did not
work, they seemed to have a lot of free cash. It did not come from my pay.
When I was alone in the house I would peek at the records . Where they got it
was a mystery. Maybe they were robbing people when they disappeared at night.

One day, Chuck called me into his bedroom. He was paying bills.

"Shit, teachers do not make a lot of money, do they?"

"Not really. It's enough, usually. You won't get rich from being a teacher,
Master."

"You really are a fucking looser, ya know it? You have the brains. You could
have made some real money. Instead you are stuck in some pissy job working
with kids."

"Sir, I like what I do. Money isn't  everything!!

"Yes it is, pig, yes it is.I have to start figuring out how YOU can make US
more dough. That savings account is not growing fast enough. I can't invest
it. I don't know enough about those things. Neither do you."

" Well, get the fuck back to your duties. Come up later. I am going to want
to get off after all this. Want me to slip it in your pussy or have you
swallow my cum? I know you enjoy it when you do me. I can see it in your
face."

"Yes, Master, I enjoy it."

He smiled, "You should have taken me up on it when I offered you my body the
first day, ya know," and waved his hand in dismissal. I went back to cleaning.

He did come up with ways to make more cash for his account. It started as a
result of the electrician installing the intercom.

                                                          End of Part 4

To be continued