Date: Tue, 31 Jan 2006 03:53:59 EST
From: EddyRiha@aol.com
Subject: Games with Stefan

The usual disclaimers apply.  This is a work of fiction, and those folks
who are prevented from reading such fictional works either by age, by moral
preference, or by law should not read any further.

All of the characters presented here are fictional representations,
including the narrator.  Some of the events and characters are inspired by
actual events and people I encountered in my younger days, but the
presentation here of events and characters in no way is meant to portray
actual, historical persons and events.  It's just a story.

All stunts were performed by professionals.  Do not attempt these at home.

No animals were harmed in the writing or reading of this story.

If anyone is offended by the premise of the story, or by explicit sexual
acts, please do not read any further.


Games With Stefan

by

eddyriha

Chapter #1-At My House

He was standing in the living room, his hands at his sides, awaiting my
instructions.  I was reading my book, pretending not to notice his
presence.  It was the way it always went-he would come in through the back
door of the garage, once I had placed the signal in my bedroom window.
Before I had sat down in my father's favorite armchair, I had hung an old
T-shirt in the window, had gotten myself a Mountain Dew out of the
refrigerator, and had retrieved several items from the box hidden in the
back corner under my bed.  This was the ritual every time my parents were
out of the house for any length of time.  Of course, during the summer when
we were both out of school, we could play our games to our hearts' content;
but during the school year, we had to take what opportunities we could.  So
on this Saturday morning, with my parents taking a day trip to do some
tax-free shopping in New Hampshire, I knew we had some time to play.

Stefan shifted his weight from one foot to the other.  He was eager to
begin; his erection was clearly visible from my position in the armchair.
But, despite his impatience, he knew better than to rush me.  After all, I
was the elder by two years, and my word was law, especially since it was my
own house.  We were fifteen and thirteen, respectively, and we had been
playing these games for three years already.  You would think that in that
time we'd have done everything possible, but we kept finding new games to
play.

So it came as a surprise to him when, without looking up from my book, I
calmly said a single word: "Strip."  That was all he needed.  He began
quickly to shed his clothing-a blue sweatshirt with yellow stripes that ran
down the sleeves, a matching pair of sweatpants, a white T-shirt, white
briefs, white athletic socks, and sneakers.  Then I said, "Slowly."  Again,
despite his eagerness, he complied.  First, he removed the sweatshirt, then
the T-shirt, then his shoes, socks, and sweatpants.  Last, his white briefs
slid down his thin legs to the floor.  He stood in front of me, his
thirteen-year-old dick pointing rigidly upwards, his hands by his sides, a
slightly trembling passing through him as he awaited my next instructions.

I set my book down on the coffee table.  "Down," I said, pointing to the
floor.  Immediately, he lay face first on the carpet, his head toward me.
I stepped out of the room and down the hall, moving into my bedroom, where
I retrieved the items I had previously taken from my hidden box.  Returning
to the living room, I found Stefan dry humping the carpet.  Because I moved
quietly in my bare feet, he did not realize I had returned already.  So he
was surprised when I caught him by the back of his neck and said, "Boy, do
you know the punishment for this behavior?"

"Yes, sir," Stefan replied.  "You will spank me, sir."

"Correct," I said.  But first I had to prepare him.  I placed the dog
collar around his neck, its leash already being attached.  Then I tied his
hands behind his back; over time, I had learned how to do it so that I
could restrict his movements but not cause him pain.  Then I sat down in
the armchair again.  He bent over my knees, and I struck my hand across his
ass several times.  I enjoyed the feel of his ass, whether I was spanking
it or massaging it.  He had perfectly round cheeks, which were just the
right shape-not too plump, but not too thin, either.  I loved nothing more
than looking at his ass, feeling it, stroking it.  But first the spanking.
SLAP!  SLAP!  SLAP!  SLAP!  SLAP!  SLAP!

When I finished, I asked, "Have you learned your lesson, boy?"

"Yes, sir," Stefan replied, but with an unconcealed smirk in his voice,
which simply suggested I'd have other opportunities to spank him later in
the day.

Then I led him downstairs, where I motioned that he should kneel.  Then I
slipped the rope off his wrists and leaned him forward so he was down on
all fours.  Then I climbed astride his back, with the leash in my right
hand, and said, "Trot."  He moved forward across the smooth floor, like a
good horse.  I could feel his muscles moving under me, as I gently pressed
my knees against his sides.  Though I was bigger than he was, I did not
weigh all that much more; my regular running schedule and my preference in
the weight room for developing stamina over bulk muscles made this part of
the game not all that unpleasant for Stefan.  But it was still an effort,
and I didn't push the game too far.  We simply rode over to the food and
water bowls for our cat, where I dismounted, patted his head, and said,
"Good boy.  Now eat."

Stefan immediately buried his face in the food bowl, which I had made sure
was filled with moist stuff, the dry cat food being impossible to chew and
swallow, as we'd learned some time earlier.  He made noises like he was
enjoying it.  After a few moments, I turned his head toward the water bowl
and said, "Drink."  He lapped the water for a few minutes, before I lifted
his head and, taking a nearby paper towel, wiped the remains of cat food
and water from his face.  Then I leaned down and kissed him, tasting the
saltiness on his lips and tongue.  For a few moments, we stayed there,
kissing.

Then I released his mouth, took up the leash again, and motioned that he
should walk on all fours behind me.  In that way, we climbed the stairs and
maneuvered down the hallway to my bedroom.  When he saw the bed, his
eagerness overcame his judgment, and he sprang forward onto the mattress.
Immediately, I pulled the leash, and he scrambled back onto the floor,
lowering his head.

"Boy, you are behaving badly," I said, as I sat on the edge of the bed.  He
obediently bent over my knees, and I gave him several more slaps across his
ass, this time each one delivered with more force.  I could see the water
in his eyes when I was done, so I spent a couple of moments gently
massaging his cheeks before continuing.

"Since we have some time to spend together today," I said, "I thought we'd
do several different things."  I had him stand before me, his eyes clearly
suggesting that, whatever I had in mind, he would be glad to do it-as long
as I continued quickly.

I closed the curtains, which I liked to do so that no one in the houses
across the street could watch our games.  Not that they probably could, but
one had to be careful.  I also took down the signal T-shirt, placing it on
the nightstand at the foot of my bed, where I would easily find it the next
time our games would begin. Then I had Stefan lie down on his back, with
his arms extended toward the headboard.  Without saying a word, I tied his
wrists to the corners of the headboard, so that his arms were stretched
apart.  I could see the disappointment in his eyes, as he loved nothing
more than to wrap his arms around me as I fucked him.

"You have been a bad boy twice today," I said.  That was enough
explanation; he understood.

Then I lifted his legs up, spreading them wide over his head and tying each
one to its corner of the headboard-though with longer ropes this time.
That allowed me full access to his ass, most especially his open hole.  I
ran my finger around the opening, causing a shudder to run through his
body.  Then I took some Vaseline on my finger and began rubbing it around
his hole, gradually moving inside, taking more Vaseline as I went further
in.  (We wouldn't discover K-Y until later on.)  He sighed every few
seconds as he felt the gentle pressure on his prostate.

I stepped back, thinking for a moment that I would leave Stefan that way
for awhile, with his bare ass exposed to the room, to allow him to think
about his disobedience earlier.  But the erection in my shorts would not
allow me to wait.  I quickly stripped off my T-shirt, my shorts, and my
briefs, exposing my five-inch dick.  I know that's not a lot, but it's not
always the length that matters.  Mine makes up in width what it lacks in
length, and that has proven more valuable to me in the end, so to speak.  I
rubbed a little Vaseline around the end and partway up the shaft, and then
I slowly penetrated the boy's ass.  He pushed against me gently in
response, as he'd learned to do, and there I was, five inches into him.

I paused a moment to lean down over him and kiss his lips, his chin, his
neck, his nipples.  I gave him a moment to adjust to my presence inside
him.  Then I began moving slowly back and forth, pushing into him as far as
I could, pulling back a little, then pushing again.  He made quiet noises
beneath me, sighs and others sounds that could best be described as
purring.  I pushed harder and harder, faster and faster, driving that boy's
ass into the mattress, straining his arms and legs, causing him to groan
and purr with pleasure, until I came in a pulsing rush of desire.  My lips
were on his left shoulder at that moment, and I found myself chewing
lightly at his skin as I came.  He loved it when I gave him a hickey when I
fucked him; he loved any marks I gave him.

When I was done, I remained for a moment inside him, as I caught my breath
and continued to kiss his neck and shoulders.  He kept turning his head
from side to side, trying to touch me with his lips, but to no avail: I
eluded his reach.

Then I slipped outside him, backing up and moving my kissing over his chest
and down his stomach.  In a moment, my chin, then my lips, touched his
still erect dick.  I took him inside my mouth, an easy fit, for he was
merely three inches at the time, even erect.  I moved my tongue around,
touching every part of the head and the shaft.  Stefan strained against the
ropes, his whole body trembling from excitement.  Then he suddenly had a
dry orgasm, collapsing into a relaxed, contented sigh.  He was a late
bloomer.  Even though we fucked and sucked as often as we could, he
wouldn't have his first wet orgasm for another two years, when he was
fifteen.  But even though his were always dry ones, he sure had all the
feeling and the pleasure, regardless.

I leaned over, kissing him briefly on the lips, before I loosened ever so
slightly the rope attached to his left wrist before I left the room.  As I
washed myself off in the bathroom, I knew it would perhaps take him a
little while to free himself, but that was part of the game.  He would
become free, and then we would move on to the next part.  In the meantime,
I would have time to become excited and erect again.

I sat in the armchair and picked up my book.  I hadn't bothered to get
dressed, as that would only delay things once Stefan freed himself.  And
before I had seated myself, I had hidden his clothes and sneakers so he
couldn't get dressed and sneak outside during the next part of the game.
He did that once, and it took forever for me to find him, for a large
wooded tract of land bordered the back lot of my house.  I relaxed and
continued my reading, making my way through a whole chapter and three pages
of the next before I became aware that he was standing silently before me,
arms at his sides, the ropes dropped at his feet.  I let him wait a few
minutes so I could finish the chapter.  I didn't need to look to know that
he, too, had washed himself; I had heard the bathroom faucet running a
couple of minutes previously.

When I reached the last page of the chapter, I looked up at the boy.  "The
King is very disappointed in his slave," I said slowly and deliberately.
"Very, very, very disappointed."  We used terms like "King" and "Slave"
because we were fans of history and fantasy, and we had not yet encountered
the whole "master-slave" language of the BDSM world.

Immediately, Stefan's face brightened.  As his dick went erect, he reached
up to his neck, unbuckled the dog collar, and dropped it to the floor.
Then he gave a shout and ran out of the room.

I went back to my reading, my growing excitement evident from the slow
steady grow of my own dick.  I could hardly finish the last couple of
paragraphs so I could begin playing my part.  For this was one of Stefan's
favorite parts of the whole experience-the King-Slave Game.  As the elder
boy, I was always the King; as the younger, he was always the Slave.  It
always involved a chase through the house, with me finally catching him and
imprisoning the slave or requiring him to do whatever I wanted.  Sometimes
I demanded he do embarrassing or tedious things, especially when I wasn't
in the mood for sex, but today I knew exactly what I wanted-to experience
his body.

I put the book down and picked up the collar, leash, and ropes..  Quietly,
so he could not hear me coming, I slipped out of the living room.  I first
checked all of the bedrooms-my parents', my brother's, my own-and the
upstairs bathroom, as well as the kitchen and the dining room.  The hall
closets.  No sign of Stefan.  I peeked into the garage on my way
downstairs.  Though he could perhaps have wedged himself between the yellow
Mazda and the back wall, I doubted it.  Otherwise, there was no sign of
him.  Then I checked the laundry room, the family room, the downstairs
bathroom.  No sign of him anywhere.

Then I heard a rustle-back upstairs.  The broom closet in the kitchen.
That's where he had to be.  It was small, but since he was not quite five
foot tall, he could squeeze in it.  Perhaps he thought I'd give up looking,
and then he'd have to come looking for me.  But I have a long memory for
these kinds of things, and I remembered he'd hid there a couple of weeks
ago.  After all, though I lived in a raised ranch house, there are only a
limited number of places for a boy to hide.  And I had long ago discovered
and used every single one of them.

I crept quietly upstairs, my bare feet making no noise on the
stairs-another thing I'd practiced many times over the years.  With one
quick pull, I popped open the broom closet door, to see only brooms and the
family vacuum cleaner.  I heard a giggle behind me and knew I'd been had.
Stefan had outguessed me, and as he streaked past me, even I had to laugh.
The whole time he'd been hiding behind the chair in which I had been
sitting reading my book!  The bastard.

I chased after him down the stairs.  Though he had a head start, I could
easily capture him.  Without clothes, there was only so far he could run.
So I cornered him by the back garage door.

"Don't come any closer, or I'll run outside," he warned in a mocking voice.

"Go ahead," I replied.  "Make my day."

His hand was on the doorknob.  He looked outside and saw the twins,
Jennifer and Julie, walking past my parents' garden and into the edge of
the woods.  They never ventured far inside.  There was not a chance that he
could slip past them and into the woods.

"OK," he said, releasing the doorknob and stepping forward.  "You got me."
He extended his wrists toward me as a sign of surrender.  I grasped them
and drew his arms behind him, tying them as I had earlier.  Then I
reattached the dog collar.  But this time I also bound his ankles so he
could not move his feet.

"There's no running for you, slave," I said in my sternest voice.  "Prepare
to be punished for your crimes."

"Do anything you wish, my King."  It was all part of our ritual, which
years later might seem a bit silly, but if you saw Stefan standing there
naked, submissive, you wouldn't worry so much about how anything sounded.

"What do you think I should do to you, slave?"

"Do anything you wish, my King," he repeated, his eyes lowered.  "My body
is yours."

"That's a good slave," I replied.  I lifted him in my arms; I had carried
him often enough, so I had become quite good at it.  With my right arm
behind his shoulders and my left arm under his knees, I walked back into
the house.  His dick stood at attention just below the reach of my mouth,
but I wasn't tempted-it was his turn to be punished, and so other pleasures
would have to wait.

I stopped this time in the living room and laid him down face first on the
couch.

"What do you think I should do to you, slave?" I said again.

"Do anything you wish, my King," he repeated, his voice somewhat muffled by
the upholstery.  "My body is yours."

"Damn right it is, slave."  I sat down on the couch, positioning him
between my thighs.  "And do you know what your punishment is, slave?"

"Whatever you wish, my King."

"Suck my royal dick, slave.  Suck it good."  Using the leash, I lifted his
head so his mouth could reach my erection.  "And if you bite, I will break
every bone in your body."  Of course, it was an unnecessary threat.  He
knew better than to use his teeth.

Stefan placed his lips on the head and began moving them over its surface.
Then came his tongue licking, then slowly he took it into his mouth.

"Keep on sucking, slave.  Make it a good suck, slave."

He began to move his mouth up and down on my shaft, gradually moistening
and stimulating the whole.  Meanwhile, his tongue was busy applying gentle
pressure to the sensitive underside.  I guided his head, my two hands
enmeshed in his dark, straight hair.  As I grew more excited, I began to
move him faster and faster, until I was fucking his mouth from my seated
position.

"Faster, slave, faster.  Suck it, suck it, suck it."  But he needed no
encouraging.  He quickened his pace until I came.  And came.  And came.  It
wouldn't all stay in his mouth, since he was facing downwards.

I lifted his head.  "Lick every drop of it up, slave," I said.  "Don't let
any of it fall onto the couch or the King will be royally angry with you,
slave.

"Yes, my King," he said with his mouth full, swallowing as he spoke.  Then
he went to the task, licking every drop off my dick, my balls, and my
thighs.  When I was satisfied, I stood up and carried him into my bedroom.

"What else do you think I should do to you, slave?" I said.

"Whatever you wish, my King."