BOY'S TEST


 There I sat. Still dressed from  the bar. Levis, work shirt, black

 harness boots. Vague ache  in the back of the  skull from one too

 many  beers. But fine. Real  fine. Relaxed. Belly full  of scrambled

 eggs and  beer. A good social evening. Lots  of laughs, lots of

 leather. Swat  Jim on the ass and press my hand up  his crack,

 knowing he enjoyed it but  would go home with his master to moan,

 whimper and obey.


 No slave in  the house means silence, except for  the dog's wheezing

 sleep next to my chair.  And that's fine, just fine: at least  for

 now, at least for tonight. Just fine.


 I had opened a cold beer, dropped my jacket on the sofa and plunked

 myself down in front of the computer to check my mail. Jack said he

 might be able to come down for the weekend next week. Nice idea. Tall

 slender guy with a smooth  body and  tits that  ignite  at  the

 slightest  touch. Nice  small nipples that  grew under my hand  till

 they were like  pencil erasers. And when I  flicked them with  my

 fingers, his  whole body trembled.  His head rolled. Blond hair

 flopping across his face. Just from the tits. Nice.


 Mark was  still eager for  training but didn't  know if he  could get

 away from his wife for a few weeks  yet. "Please be patient, sir."

 Well, maybe.  He showed  promise. His chest was,  had been, covered

 with  a thick mat of dark hair. On  my orders he snapped a picture,

 dishwasher and potted fern in the  background, and sent  it. Then, on

 the next order,  shaved a wide path down  the middle, snapped  it

 again, chintz  sofa and a  pile of mail behind  him, and  sent it

 off to  me. His  eyes in  that one. Intriguing.  Trying to be very

 cool, but narrowed at the corners. And his mouth. Small, but with

 fine sensuous lips. Trying to smile and not look scared. I smiled

 back at the picture, imagining what that mouth would look like when

 it was very hungry, traces of spit at the  corners, and stretched

 wide to take my hot meat. Hmmmm. "Patient?" Well, for a while,

 anyway.


 Paul enjoyed  his visit. He hoped  he could come again  some time.

 His ass still ached. His  buns were still sore. If he  looked over

 his shoulder in the mirror


 he could still see  traces of the belt marks on the  pale skin of his

 ass.  "Thank you, sir, for letting me take the leather thong home

 with me. I put it  on....around  my  slave  balls  some  times  and

 look  in the mirror, remembering how you tied it on...and the

 weights. Oh, sir!" Again? Indeed.  Paul was a first time slave. He

 was visibly shaking when I opened the door to let him in.



 By the time he  left he knew how to say goodbye,  dropping to the

 floor to kiss my  boots and tongue  the shiny  metal  rings on the

 sides. The only problem with this slave, I thought, remembering the

 pale peach fuzz on his chest and ass as he hung from the hook moaning

 and begging to be used, was that he  was starting to  think he had

 found love. Too  fast, too much  a heavy crush brought on  by the

 rush, by the belt and  the willow cane. And on  the rebound  from a

 failed and  not forgotten  love. Slow. Slow, boy.  We'll see. Your

 fuzzy butt is  beautiful in the candle's glow, but leather love takes

 ripening.


 Strolling out to the kitchen, stretching  and yawning, I got another

 beer:  this one to last, to be last, to  sip and finish about the

 time the lights went out. As  I looked out into the yard  I

 remembered Joel. The corkscrew willow was shining with slick dabs of

 ice. Bits of snow in the crotches of the branches. A whole other

 thing from the night Joel was here just before he left  for San

 Francisco. Late.  After. Calmly and quietly,  we sat under the trees

 in late august. Not  far from dawn. We talked, smiled, chuckled.  He

 winced every once and again when he shifted his weight from one side

 to the other. Still  some sting left in those sweet  olive buns. He

 moved the empty bottles into patterns on the table.


 Talking. And playing some new chess game with the bottles. Looking

 into my eyes and smiling from time to time. "You know," he'd said. "I

 always liked this  tree.  Funny  we've  never  used  it."  I  smiled

 back.  "May has a floodlight over there. Enough candlefoot to take

 color movies." He nodded, remembering that May, my neighbor across

 the fence, stayed up late, got up often to feed her dogs and then let

 them out and talk to them in the late night yard. Often  as we'd sat

 out in the  quiet night, we'd been startled by the sudden  glare of

 May's lights. And her  soft voice, carrying though the night air.

 "Henry, do your business for mamma. Come on baby, it's such a nice

 night. I'll sit with you for a while."


 That night,  with his departure  known and measured  against the

 remaining hours of  the dark sweet night  of August, Joel's hand

 reached across the table for mine and grasped it. Gently, almost

 reverently, as was his style and the reason  we had stayed so close

 for so long, he lifted  my hand to his face and brushed it across his

 cheek. He looked at me for permission.  I withheld it briefly and

 then softened  and smiled. He kissed each finger slowly and then

 murmured, "The tree. Please, sir. The willow. Nothing big.  Nothing

 complicated. I know it's late. I know. Please, sir! Please!"


 I looked at him. His eyes were  almost purple in this strange light.

 Deep.  I had already decided,  but I waited, his hand pressing  my

 fingers to his lips. The marks of my nails on his throat. I waited.

 Watching him.


 He slid quietly out of his chair and  onto his knees in front of me,

 still holding my hand to  his lips. Joel had a way of  going

 snake-like at these times...when  he  wanted  something,  something

 special.  Something  that ignited some  place in him  that he knew

 about like a  hidden spring in a wood and that he wanted to show me,

 take me to, give me. His face found my thigh and he brushed the rough

 jeans with his cheek, nuzzling and sighing softly. "Please, sir, the

 tree?"


 I nodded. "Yes, boy." He moaned and  buried his face in my crotch,

 already stirring, already hot. "Thank you, sir. Oh, thank you!"


 I got the rope, only rope. Simple rope. And sat back in my chair.

 "Prepare yourself, boy."  He smiled shyly, but  his mouth trembled.

 He  dropped his eyes and began to strip. His rugby  sweater came off

 fast. "And fold those things  neatly, boy!"  "Yes, sir."  Almost a

 whisper. The  rest came  off slowly.  Almost  a  striptease,  but

 with  a  vague  supplication in each movement and  a quivering

 exhalation of  breath as the night  wind touched the  golden skin.

 Shaved smooth,  his chest  came into  view. A beautiful chest,  not

 heavily  muscular,  but  curved,  a  romanesque Apollo. Still showing

 the effects of our earlier scene. His belly moved erratically with

 swift, almost panting intakes of breath.  His fingers undid the

 buttons of his jeans  and he almost shyly  half-turned away as he

 slid them down his smooth legs  and onto the ground.  The newly

 shaved skin  glistened in the moonlight. As he stood again I

 chuckled. "What's the matter, sir? Don't I please you?" "Oh, Joel.

 Those briefs.  Shit. Stars? Do you fucking have to wear briefs with

 fucking stars on them? Shit!"


 He smiled at the ground. "I'm sorry,  sir. My sister. She gave them

 to me.  I feel like I have to wear them sometimes." "Look at me,

 boy." "Yes, sir." He slowly  raised his eyes. He  couldn't decide

 whether he  could smile or not.  We locked  eyes for  several seconds

 and hen  I laughed.  His mouth opened wide, as  though to speak,

 almost forming words.  "Oh, sir." And he ran to my feet and dropped

 to his knees, laughing and crying. "I know, and my last night, sir.

 I'm such a stupid slaveboy!" He stayed there, his face down, almost

 crooning  for several minutes. "Have I  spoiled it, sir? Will you

 still take me to the tree?"


 I lifted  him to  his feet  and led  him to  the old  corkscrew

 willow. He extended his arms and wrapped them tightly against the

 rough gnarled bark, his hands  almost touching around the  big limb.

 I quickly  tied his hands together, started  to bind his waist  to

 the trunk, thought  better of it, and looped a rope around each

 ankle, spreading his legs and binding him to the old willow.


 Even in  the low light  I could see  the remains of  my earlier work.

 The glowing welts across the shoulders. The marks of my teeth on his

 neck. The bands of  red where the  cuffs had  held  him up, dangling

 from the hook.  Small shiny snail  trails of dried cum tracing a

 path down from his small tight ass.  I stood looking  at him. He

 breathed deeply and  embraced the willow. A soft  hum escaped his

 lips. I  was beginning to wonder if  I was involved in  a three-way

 with  an ancient botanical  rival. I stood  close behind him,

 listening, feeling the heat  from his marks radiating.  I was almost

 convinced that this scene was  between Joel and some druidic spirit

 when his head  fell back against me and  he breathed, "Oh, sir, yes.

 I am yours. Your slaveboy.  Always yours, sir." My arms covered  his

 and I sunk my teeth into his neck again. "Oh,  sir. Make me yours

 again. Please, sir.  Now. Please, sir!"  There was urgency in his

 voice.  And his body began to move. A low moan came from his lips.


 I took my knife from  my pocket and moved to a low  branch. I cut six

 long wands from the tree and bound them  together. I could feel his

 eyes on me.  He moaned, heaving his chest tight against the tree.

 When I looked at him, he dropped his eyes quickly. I brushed  the

 tree cat across his back. Joel sucked in air so fast that it caught

 in his throat and a sound like a sob jumped from his mouth. I brought

 the cat down on his back again and again.  "Not a sound, boy. Not a

 sound!"  "Oh, sir," he whispered, "Yes, sir. Give it to me now.


 Please, sir.  Now!"


 I laid the cat deeply into the pale skin in a steady rhythm as Joel

 clawed the tree, holding it, caressing it,  kissing it, stopping his

 screams with the  tough and  ancient bark.  "And now  your ass,

 boy!" I  came close up behind  him,  sliding  my  hands  down  inside

 the  briefs. Squeezing and torturing the buns  with my fingers.

 Digging in.  Joel's voice was hoarse, low, a strong tenor with a

 touch of magnolia, rough around the edges, left from his early days

 on the gold  coast of Mississippi. "Oh, sir. Oh, sir." Over  and

 over,  pain and  pleasure  sifting  together in  shadows of  the

 willow.


 Bang. Lights. May and  her dog slid out of her patio  door and

 entered our night. Light  in my eyes.  Joel's sharp intake  of breath

 let  me know how frightened he was. It  was one thing to hang from

 the  willow in the dark, another to have May find us this way. She

 almost had one night before when I had bound him naked to one of the

 metal chairs and left him in the dark for several hours. Left him

 because...  But that's another story. Now light.


 I stepped to Joel's left and leaned against the tree. I hoped that my

 body would  block her  sight of  his body  hanging tight  against the

 willow. I reached  for my  beer from  the table  and lit  a

 cigarette.  "Hi, May," I called  quietly.  "Hi  there!"  She  thought

 she  was whispering, but, if anybody was awake in the next block

 they heard her. She stared across the long shadows as  the dog nosed

 and sniffed for  the perfect place. "You're up  late,"  se

 whispered.  "Yep,"  I  said.  Not  eager  for  an involved

 conversation. Joel  gasped next to me,  trying to shrink into  the

 tree. I caught sight of his eyes, pleading with  me. I turned my head

 slightly and said under my  breath, "Silence, boy. Now you'll  be

 silent!" May absently divided her attention between her dog and her

 strange neighbor standing in his yard in the dark hours of the night.


 The quiet and the situation began to  work on me. Joel gasping next

 to me, his  back sweating  even in  the cool.  Panic in  his eyes,

 and May in no hurry, deciding if  she wanted a conversation with me.

 My hand behind the tree, out of her sight, found Joel's  mouth and I

 stopped it with the flat of my palm. He sucked air through his nose

 and squirmed. "Nice night," May offered. Joe pressed  his face into

 my hand. "Sure  is, May. Sure is. Very nice." "You'll have  to come

 over for coffee on  the weekend." "That would be great, May. You make

 great coffee." Wet on my hand. Joel was kissing my palm, his lips

 almost suckling it, would  have if it were not flat against his open

 panting mouth.


 "You know, I have some tomato jam left.  You like that, don't you?"


 "Sure do, May.  It's great."


 Lips and tongue against my hand. Wet. I  allowed my hand to slip a

 bit and Joel's mouth seized my thumb between  his lips and, gasping

 and moaning so softly that  even I could  barely hear the  sound, he

 swallowed  the thumb deep into his throat. I let him suckle.


 "I'm one of the few people who still makes it, you know."


 "I know, I know.  It's great that you do."


 Joel mouth working  hard on my thumb suddenly abandoned  it and

 seized the middle finger, working  it like a cock in his  mouth, slow

 and deliberate, though the  movement of his body  belied the

 deliberation. He  was shaking from fear and hot from the situation,

 all at the same time. My boy.


 "I put aside a jar for you.  Somewhere.  Where was it?"


 I slid  my hand  out of  Joel's mouth   and let  it glide  down his

 back.  "Please, sir," came  the sound. Like a slow rabbit  in dry

 grass. I leaned my head against the tree, pensive to May, demanding

 to Joel.


 "Please, sir!"


 "I'll find it in the morning and bring it out."



 My hand found his  neck and I squeezed, hard. He didn't  make a

 sound, but his body shook under my fingers. I could feel the spine

 arch, push.


 "Great, May.  Have it with toast.  Maybe make some biscuits."


 "Oh, sir.  Yes, sir.  Yes."


 "It's just fine with biscuits.  You'll like it."


 Turn my hand  into a claw and scrape down  the welted back. Joel

 trembled, sucked  the bark  of the  willow. A   high tenor  sound

 from  high in  his forehead.


 "I know it, May.  Don't I know it."


 My hand on  his ass now. Those briefs.  And under them, the globes

 that I had  touched so  often in  a thousand  ways. High  and round.

 Hard as new melons, and sweeter. Clenching under my hand. Slurping

 sounds as his mouth bit and sucked the gnarled bark.


 "Hmmm. Yes, and I know you like it. That's why I save some for you. I

 like to be a good neighbor."


 My hand, on edge found his crack and knifed up and down, pushing the

 cloth in.


 Held tight, the  hand found itself pulled in by  the clenching and

 opening of Joel's buns. He was pulling my hand in. Good boy.


 "Yeah.  You are."


 She  watched the  dog peeing,  or trying  to, once  more on the

 fencepost.  Absent, mostly, but occasionally  peering. Thinking what?

 Suspecting there was more here, but not able to piece it out.


 My hand went into  my pocket and found my knife. Trusty  old Case

 that had nestled there on  many expeditions. I slowly stretched my

 left arm up and high, like any old  stretch a man might do late on

 in a summer night, but the  right  hand  flicked  the  blade  open

 and  locked. Joel herd it and shivered. I laid the warm blade flat

 against his back so he would feel it and drew it flat and easy down

 to his waist.


 He was swallowing hard. Humming high in his head like a high voltage

 wire.  May  stared  for  a  minute  and  then  followed  the dog

 around the yard, examining plants, pinching here, smelling there.


 I quickly withdrew the knife, felt it's position with my fingers,

 adjusted it. Then slapped  it to Joel's quivering thigh, high

 between his legs and ran it fast up to his groin.


 As the steel slid up next to his  nuts and cock, his arms grabbed the

 tree suddenly tighter, like  a lover returned from a long  and

 distant trip and his head fell  back, his lower lip locked  between

 his teeth as he  drew a hissing breath.  I lower the  handle so the

 tip of the  blade rested just behind his balls and the sharp point

 pressed, barely, but importantly into the flesh.


 With one quick movement,  I pulled the blade up and slit  the briefs

 up to the elastic. Joel's head jumped and  rolled, then his face

 glued itself to his shoulder, smothering the cry that pushed up from

 his balls.


 May looked up.  "Did you say something?"  "Just breathing deep, May.

 Just breathing.  It's nice out."


 Not satisfied, staying longer than she would, than she should, May

 found something important to do to a rose.


 Spreading the cloth with my fingers, I laid the blade across the bare

 skin of Joel's hard  right globe. Holding it like an  old time

 barber, I pulled it down across the flesh. Then again on the other

 side. Not a shave. But a reminder of one, of many. Of other things.

 Joel knew and heaved his chest, bit his upper arm.



 I watched May.  She fiddled with the  rose and cast glances,  lobbing

 them across the  fence. I lit  another cigarette and  inhaled deeply.

 My  right hand was not so languid. I snapped  the Case closed,

 pocketed it, and laid my hand flat  across the crack in Joel's ass,

 the middle finger resting a little deeper. Not moving. Waiting.

 Joel's shudders subsided and his mouth came just far  enough away

 from his arm to  breathe, "Please, sir. Please.  Touch your boy's

 ass." I applied more pressure to his crack and waited for him to

 respond. He wanted me  to press. I would  make him do it.  He did.

 Opening and closing his  ass he drew my finger into the  hot crack. I

 held still,  he sought  the hand,  the  finger,  moved until  he had

 my finger pressed against his hole. He pushed back, wanting the

 finger. I held fast.  I let the finger escape the hole and then let

 him find it again.


 I repeated  the game  many times.  Until Joel  was writhing, pushing,

 then subsiding, defeated.  Then I touched  the puckered hole  softly.

 He jumped back against it. I stiffened my hand and jammed my finger

 into the heat of his tight boycunt. He sucked in air and buried his

 mouth on his arm again.  I held still  for a moment and  then began

 fucking his  hole with my hand.  Now one finger, then two, then

 three.  Joel was ready to scream. His teeth were sunk so far  into

 his arm that he looked as  though he were devouring his own flesh.


 "Well, guess I'll go in."  May said to the roof of my house.



 "Ok, May.  See you tomorrow."


 But she didn't. She moved to the  porch and then turned to survey the

 dark yards like a queen checking out the palace lawns for crabgrass.


 In and out my hand pumped into  Joel. He opened, he flowered. He

 quivered.  He arched. He was standing on his toes and pushing hard to

 take more. "Oh, sir. Oh, sir. Make her go now. I want you so much,

 sir."


 "OK.  Night, now."


 And she  slid into her  dark kitchen and  closed the door.  The light

 went out. Even if she looked out now, she could not see us.


 I stilled  my hand  inside Joel's  ass and  came close  up behind

 him. He dropped his head back onto my shoulder.


 "Oh, sir. My god,  sir. Take me in now? Please, sir.  Make me yours

 again.  Now, sir. Please, now?"


 I dropped my mouth onto his and kissed him roughly. Case out. Rope

 cut. He dropped into my arms, limp. I picked him up and carried him

 into the house and laid  him on the  bed, cut the  briefs from him,

 and fucked him  hard until the sun came up.


 He lives  in California now, but  my hands remember. And  other parts

 too.  Deeper than skin. Softer than the finest calfskin. Joel.


 That tree is iced  tonight. I guess I am too, even  if just a little.

 Both of us need spring.


 Ahhh...time for a stretch, a scratch, a head shake and a shower.


 Still damp from the shower, I punched the keys and watched the CB

 come up.  I was sure most of the guys in this  area had gone to bed,

 or been carried there, or carried someone there. Or driven them, or

 been driven. Flickers.  Names. Handles. Quiet  talk. Some smartass

 quips to  drive the night away.  Double meanings. I  sat, sipped a

 small glass of  single malt and watched.  An  occasional message  of

 greeting.  One or  two of flirtation. Watching, smiling.


 Suddenly, "Are you a master?"


 Hmmmm.


 "Yes I am."


 More talk.  I studied the handles  and the open lines,  searching for

 some identity, some style. There he was, joking, flirting, bouncy.

 Funny. Not a trace of leather. Nothing in the  handle to suggest it.

 Not "Slave," "Male sub," "Needsadaddy."


 I smiled to  myself and continued watching.  This guy was very

 witty. And bright. Must  be some thirtyish, fortyish  guy with a good

 mind and a bad case of insomnia.  Probably has a lover who's fast

 asleep, leaving him to wander, smoke, joke  with the guys in the

 great  electronic gay bar in the sky.


 "I'm interested in older guys.  How old are you?"


 That phrase:  "older guys."  Makes me laugh and cringe at the same

 time.  But there it was, stabbing through the open lines.  Roll with

 it.  Even if he's a guy who has a fantasy about being as young as he

 sounds.  What the hell.  I'm immune to the nuts and open to the ones

 who have their feet planted.


 "I'm 37, probably a little old for you."


 I sat back, figuring that would be the end of it. Going to bed in a

 minute anyway. For a nice deep long sleep  until the Saturday sun was

 high up the sky.


 "I'm 19, near 20."


 Sure, sure.  And I'm gonna be a Cardinal next week.


 The phone rang on the other line.  I picked it up while still

 watching the screen. It was Will. He was two hours earlier, had seen

 me on the line and knew it was ok to call. "Please, sir: I need you

 real bad."


 Now,  Will  is  both  hot  and  sweet,  a  combination that I have

 trouble resisting. He had stopped by for a weekend last October, on

 his way to--or from, I  forget--a business meeting  nearby. We liked

 each other and  had good talk and good sex. He left with barely

 fading welts on his body and a satisfied look in his blue eyes. We

 talk often.


 His voice in my ear was saying things that usually made me want to

 light a big  black candle  and pull  out some  toys. But  tonight was

 different. I watched the lines  scroll across the screen, wondering

 what was happening with my "boy."  He was quiet. Chatting? I  checked

 and he was on  the open line. Must  be getting a  flood of messages

 from hawks, pseudo-hawks  and priapic insomniacs. Smile.


 I was about to sign  off, close down and move to the  bedroom to talk

 with Will.


 "Can I talk to you, sir?  Please, sir?"


 Whoa. What is going on here? Something  is stirring, and it's not

 from hot sweet Will in my ear.


 "Hey,  mutt, I  can't work  you right  now. Call  me tomorrow." "Yes,

 sir.  About nine?" "Yeah, fine, boy. About nine. And be sure you are

 clean, boy.  Clean that ass out real well! Do it, or you'll pay!"

 Click.


 I thought about why I had done that.  Nothing in the situation on the

 line hinted at anything as hot as I  knew Will could, would, wanted

 to provide.  And I liked Will.  We had even flirted with the idea  of

 his moving to the area. Not said  it outright. But he let me  know

 he'd think very seriously about it  if I did. And  I did. After he

 left. But I had  done nothing to encourage it. As much  as I liked

 him, it was too  soon after the break-up with Tim. Not  that that had

 been bitter.  It was as easy as  one of those things can be. But

 still too soon.  Too much baggage still, to clear away.  Hell, Tim's

 extra Reboks were still  in the closet, waiting  to be picked up, or

 to  provide an excuse to "drop  by." Way too soon. Will  was coming

 back in about  a month. Soon enough to  deal with that, even the

 edges of it.


 "Please, sir."


 To chat or not to chat. That is the question. It's late. I'm tired. I

 just turned Will down. Why am I sitting here considering a chat with

 a guy with a phony handle  who wants to play  little boy with a

 daddy who's probably several years younger than he is. The guy

 probably lives on the other side of the continent, has a short fuse,

 once read a copy of Drummer and wants a simulation of three quick

 belt swacks on his ass before he cums all over his keyboard then

 feeds his cat and shuffles off to bed?


 "OK, boy.  Get your ass over here!  Swack!   Do it now!"


 Committed.  At least for a minute or two.


 An hour later my hair was drenched  in sweat and my heart was

 pounding. If this was fake, it was the best I'd ever seen.


 It was a novice  scene. But what a novice! And beyond  that the sense

 that there was  a passion driving the  mind beyond what the  lines

 appearing on the  screen  showed.  Tits,  balls,  moaning,  begging,

 licking, sucking, crying. Slow build to a hard, rough fuck.


 "Can I talk to you again, sometime, sir?  Please, sir?"


 "Sure, slaveboy.  Tell you what..."


 "What, sir?  Anything, sir.  Anything!"


 Time for the test.


 "Sit down  and write me  a fantasy about  what you'd like  to have

 happen.  Leave it  for me. I'll  answer and we'll  arrange to meet

 here again some night."


 That  should  do  it,  I  said  to  myself,  smiling.  One  time's a

 lucky instinctive  accident, and  who gives  a fuck.  A pleasant

 time with a CB slave who's an  accountant by day and sits  with his

 cat by night  being a young slave with a taste for a  hot daddy

 master. Bright? Sure. Funny too.  And with  a very developed

 imagination.  No problem. That's the  wonder of it. And the ease.


 "Yes, sir.  I will, sir.  You'll like it, sir"


 Bet I will.  I smiled, broke and said goodnight.


 As I lay in bed on the  edge of sleep. I found myself disturbed.

 Something had moved inside me. I couldn't  put my finger on it.

 Something. Hormones.  I laughed aloud and  the dog jumped up, shook

 his  chain collar and looked at me; settled himself and stared  to

 snore. "Where the whore moans, there moan I."


 Three  days  later  there  was  mail.  The  ID  was  right.  It was

 him. I downloaded his fantasy and read it:


 .     "The Party"


 Don called to say that some  friends were throwing a combined

 birthday and pre-christmas party on Friday night, and we  were

 invited. It was to be an all-gay  party, and  according to  Don this

 friend had  a reputation  for *wild*  parties, so  I was  looking

 forward  to it  with some interest. On thursday night,  as we were

 settling down to  sleep after some  enjoyable gymnastics, Don bit  my

 ear to get my attention  and said, "Hey. How'd you like to go to the

 party tomorrow in slave rig? You'd cause a riot"


 I thought he was  joking at first, but he  rolled me over and lay

 half on top of  me and said  "I'm serious,  you'd  enjoy it and  so

 would everyone else.  Wouldn't you  like to  be stripped  by stages

 as the evening warms up...get fucked in front of an audience....get

 filled at both ends...??"


 I had to admit that  the idea turned me on, but I  was a bit nervous

 about being vulnerable to people I didn't know. He assured me that he

 would make very certain that nothing bad happened to  me, and in the

 end I agreed. He arranged to come home early on Friday to get me

 prepared and "in the right frame of  mind...." My imagination was

 already working hard on  the idea, and I thought  that by the time

 Friday evening  rolled around, my frame of mind would need very

 little adjustment!


 On Friday  morning he wouldn't let  me j/o before leaving  for

 school, and told me not  to during the day, threatening dire

 punishments if I did! He said he wanted me  on a `hair trigger' for

 the evening.  So when I arrived home  in the  afternoon I'd  been up

 and down  like a  yo-yo all day - my concentration was shot to

 pieces! As I  put the bike away in the garage he appeared  at the

 connecting door  to the  house, holding  the collar  and waiting for

 me. He didn't  say anything,  just  watched me as  I left the helmet

 sitting on the bike and got  down on my hands and knees and crawled

 across the concrete floor to him. I  stopped when I reached him and

 kissed his boots, then waited for developments.


 He crouched down in front of me and pulled my head up by the hair

 until it was  resting on  his knee,  then buckled  the collar  round

 my neck, tight enough so that the leather dug into  my skin along the

 edges. He looked at me  thoughtfully and  rubbed his  thumb along

 the edge  of my  jaw; I was shivering,  partly  anticipation,  partly

 excitement, partly apprehension about what was going to happen. He

 asked  me if I'd ever had an enema, and I said no.  Apparently I had

 to  be clean and empty  for this party; after all, it would  never do

 for someone to  stick their fingers up my  ass and get them dirty,

 would it? So he clipped  the leash onto the collar  and I crawled

 after  him through the house  to the bathroom, crawling  "to heel"

 like a good dog.


 In the  bathroom he strapped leather  cuffs onto my wrists  and

 ankles and clipped them together firmly with my  arms behind my back.

 Then he dropped my jeans to my knees and pulled me over so that I was

 lying across his lap as he sat on  the edge of the tub. I felt

 something hard and warm against my asshole, and  relaxed to let the

 nozzle  in. It moved inside me  and he reached under me to  grip my

 balls as the warm water  started to flow into my ass. It  felt pretty

 good and I  just relaxed and lay there  across him enjoying it. After

 a while I guess I must have been full, as he pulled the nozzle out

 and replaced it with  a butt plug, squeezing my cheeks together to

 stop anything  leaking out. He let me lie  there for a few

 minutes,then pulled my jeans up, swung me round and stood me up in

 the tub.


 The urge to shit was immediate as soon  as I was upright and I

 clenched my ass muscles round the plug to hold it  in. I expected him

 to sit me on the john but he didn't,  just sat there with an

 expectant look  on his face. I could feel the water starting to

 dribble out no matter how hard I tried to hold it in,and I was

 pleading with him to at least get my pants out of the way so I

 wouldn't mess in them. He  stood up and I thought he was going to

 help me, but instead he backhanded me across the face, hard enough to

 make me yelp, and enough of a shock that  I lost hold and the plug

 slipped out, followed by a gush of warm dirty water and lumps and

 bits of shit.


 I hadn't really noticed with the effort  of holding my ass closed,

 but the enema had made me need to piss too,  and having lost control

 of one hole I didn't seem  to have much  of a hold  over the other

 one either. Hot piss followed the water from my ass down my legs and

 soaked my pants, so that I was standing in a puddle of shit and piss

 in the tub. I stood there crying and calling him all the names I

 could think of for making me shit myself.  That was  a bad idea since

 it got me another  backhander across the other cheek, so I shut  up

 and realized that in spite of  my humiliating state I was also

 extremely turned on. He  reached around behind me  and squelched the

 back of my jeans against my ass.


 After a few  moments he began to undress  me - I was still  in bike

 jacket etc from the ride home -  removing everything including the

 leather collar and cuffs, but  retying my hands behind me with  some

 rope. Then he turned on the shower,  got undressed himself and

 climbed into  the tub with me. I don't  think I've  ever been  quite

 so  thoroughly washed  in my  life. He started at  the top and worked

 his way down, cleaning  every part that he could reach - hair, ears,

 nostrils,  armpits, navel, even between my toes.  Of  course he  paid

 special  attention to  my crotch,  especially my  ass, making me

 bend over and  pushing his soapy  fingers far up  into me, then

 rinsing me  out with a  spray bottle of  clean water. When  I was

 clean he made me get out, wrapped me in a towel and sat me on the

 floor to wait for him.


 Once he himself was washed, dried and dressed in underpants and

 t-shirt he started on me again.  I was just about dry inside the

 towel anyway, so he finished off the damp bits then replaced my slave

 collar and cuffs. I then had to lie face up on the floor, with a

 towel under my ass while he shaved my whole pubic  area very closely

 and carefully. I  love it when he shaves along my ass crack  and

 round the hole, it always makes  me shiver. When I was clean and bare

 he rubbed lotion into the whole area so that I would be soft and

 smooth.


 All the time  he was doing this he kept  touching my asshole; soft

 feather touches that were  gone as soon as I  felt them and made me

 feel more and more open to him, made me want to  have his big cock

 inside me, or fingers or tongue, something, anything to fill me,  I

 was so hungry! Every time he did it I  would moan and try to  push

 against him but he  held me down and wouldn't let  me have it,  until

 he  used  his fingers to  spread lube all along  my crack  and up

 inside my   asshole, then  filled me  with a  fat buttplug. Even then

 he did it very  quickly, wouldn't let me lean into his fingers and

 enjoy  it. Eventually he finished with me  and pulled me up on to  my

 feet.  He dressed  me in  my newest  & tightest  pair of 501's with

 nothing  underneath,  t-shirt  and  leather  bike  jacket  and boots,

 then carried me  down the stairs  and dumped me  in the van  with my

 wrists and ankles tied to wait for him.


 By the  time he climbed  into the van  and prepared to  leave it had

 been pitch dark in  the garage for some time,  as well as freezing

 cold,  and I was feeling very uncomfortable and slightly scared. He

 came over to me and stroked my  hair, rubbing his fingers  over my

 scalp and  kissing me hard, making  me surrender  all over  again

 till  I could  hardly breathe and my balls were aching with wanting

 him. He knows  exactly how to get to me - I find kissing  intensely

 exciting and he  sure made the most  of it. By the time we actually

 drove off to the party  with me lying tied up on the back seat of the

 van I was hot and hard and ready - for just about anything.


 When we reached Don's friend's house  he parked the van, then came

 through to the back where I was lying  and dug in his jacket pocket

 for something, I couldn't see what it  was in the darkness. But I

 soon  found out when he pulled  down my  jeans and  wrapped a  sheath

 round  my balls,  pulling it tight, intensifying the ache that was

 already there. I thought that would be all, but  no, he pulled up my

 t-shirt and stretched out a  nipple with his fingers, then  something

 cold and metal pressed  against it, biting in as he  tightened the

 clamp.  The other one  of the pair  went on the other nipple, and

 gradually the  pain died away to an ache as  I got used to the

 feeling  -  till  he  pulled  my  t-shirt  down  and it scraped

 across the nipples, making me shudder again and try to pull away from

 him. He ignored the protest and refastened my jeans and jacket, then

 unbound my ankles and led me out of the van and up to the door.


 We were not very early arriving, so when we walked into the hall the

 party was already in full swing and fairly  noisy. Don got a lot of

 greetings of the "hey, where ya been? Haven't seen you for ages!"

 type, it seems that I had taken  him out of  circulation for the

 last few months  - which is  a rather ego-boosting thought! I didn't

 know anybody at all, so I kept close to Don  and followed him

 through the  crowd.  It felt very  strange to be among all  these

 people and  not be able  to use my  hands, every so often someone

 would pinch my  ass or pat it and there wasn't  a thing I could do

 about it. It was a thought that both  scared and elated me, and I'm

 sure I must  have  been  red  in  the  face  (and  probably

 everywhere else) with embarrassment and excitement.


 At the bar  Don got a drink for  himself but not for me,  since I

 couldn't hold a glass, and we gravitated to  a small group of guys

 around Don's age at one side of the room. They all knew each other,

 and all looked at me in the same way -  a sort of anticipatory

 gloating leer as  if they wanted to eat me up. Every so often Don

 gave me a drink from his glass, in fact more often than he  drank

 himself, and since he was  drinking scotch which I am not  at all

 used to,  I soon  began to  feel quite  relaxed and  slightly

 lightheaded. I was still wearing my  jacket and was starting to sweat

 with the heat, and Don suggested that one of  the guys help me out by

 taking it off.


 There were  lots of volunteers  for this job,  and in the  end one of

 them untied  my wrists  and held  them behind  me, while  another

 unzipped  the jacket and peeled  it off. Then someone suggested that

 they might as well take my  shirt off now  too, since  it  would save

 untying  my hands again later. Several pairs of hands instantly

 grabbed my shirt and pulled it off over my head, making  me gasp with

 pain as it caught  on the nipple clamps on the way. The guy behind me

 holding my wrists cuffed them together again firmly and pushed me

 into the middle  of the group, so that they could all have a good

 look at me as I obeyed Don's order to turn around slowly. Half of me

 wanted to run away and hide: the other half wanted to get down on my

 knees in front of the guy with the  biggest bulge and beg to be

 allowed to suck him. In fact I didn't do  either, I just stood there

 and waited while they  asked Don  what sort  of things  I would  do,

 and  he told  them, in detail, that I  liked to be knocked about and

 tied up and fucked roughly, to have my mouth fucked and to lick balls

 and asses.....


 After a  while someone asked  did I have  a nice dick,  and Don said

 they could open up  my pants and have a  look. The one directly in

 front of me stepped up real close and put his hand on my crotch,

 squeezing and rubbing my aching  balls and making my  cock spring up

 to  full hardness again. He undid the  buttons one by  one and spread

 open my jeans,  letting my cock poke out in front  of me and digging

 his hand inside  to pull my balls out too.


 "Hey, nice and smooth!" he said, grinning  down at me and working his

 hand deeper  inside my  pants, feeling  along the  crack behind  my

 balls as he leaned down and stick  his tongue in my mouth. I leaned

 into his hand and sucked on his tongue, enjoying the feel of someone

 else apart from Don for the  first time  in months.  Someone behind

 me was  tugging at  my jeans, pulling them down  over my ass and down

 my legs till they stopped  at the top of my boots and I stood there

 naked from the knees up. There seemed to be hands all  over me,

 pulling and stroking and  probing, with two fingers from two

 different  directions working their way up my  ass. I just closed my

 eyes and took whatever came, not caring anymore who was looking or

 what they might think.


 Hands pulled my  feet up in turn and  peeled off my boots and  jeans,

 then they pushed me over the back of a  chair, pulled my legs apart

 and held me there.


 "Give  him  the  biggest  one  first"  said  a  voice, and there was

 quick agreement that the biggest one was Joey's.


 "Let him see  it before you give it  him", said someone else, and  my

 head was pulled up by the hair to look  at the thick hard dick being

 held under my  nose. I  reached out  a tongue  to lick  it but  he

 pulled it away and dropped my  head and moved  round behind me.

 Hands spread my  legs and my asscheeks, pulling  me wide open  till I

 felt  his big head  nudging at my asshole and  moaned, trying to push

 up against it. He  laughed to see how much I wanted it  and teased me

 with the head, rubbing  it against my hole and half pushing it into

 me, then withdrawing again till I was begging him incoherently to

 please shove it in and fuck me.


 And that's  exactly what he  did, driving  it  right into me  on the

 first stroke and keeping up a hard fast  fuckstroke right from the

 start. He was bigger than Don, bigger than any guy I'd  ever had, it

 felt as if his cock was going to go  all the way through me and come

 out through my mouth. He held my  thighs down hard  against the back

 of the chair  and rammed that thick dick into  me as if he wanted  to

 split me open -  and I loved every inch, grunting at each stroke like

 an  animal and urging him on to give me it hard and deep, till he

 clutched  me tighter and leaned over me, gasping and panting as his

 cock jerked and spasmed inside my hole and shot his cum deep inside

 me.


 I didn't realize until I heard the round  of applause, but the rest

 of the party had almost come to a halt  while everybody watched him

 drill me out.  He slipped out of me and the hands  pulled me upright

 again to look at all the curious excited faces staring at me.


 "I think we'd better adjourn to somewhere  a bit more private for the

 rest of this session," said Don from behind me, and the hands hustled

 me out of the living room and  along a corridor to a bedroom. I

 heard the door lock behind us as I  was pushed face down onto the bed

 while they held a short whispered discussion about exactly what they

 should do to me.


 I lay quite  still on the  bed, straining my  ears to hear  what they

 were saying,  but I  couldn't make  out more  than a  few words.

 Someone moved behind me and slipped a blindfold over  my eyes and

 tied it tightly behind my head, then flipped  me over onto my back

 and hauled  me into the middle of the bed. My  wrists were unclipped

 and my arms pulled  above my head as other hands spread my legs apart

 and they tied my wrists and ankles to the four corners of  the bed,

 pulling the bonds tight  so that I was stretched apart  as far  as

 possible.  Then they  lifted my  ass and  pushed a thick pillow under

 my lower back so that my balls were dangling between my legs, still

 tightly  encased in the  sheath, and my  ass was suspended  a little

 above the bed.


 A heavy body sat on my chest and I  felt his cock touch my cheek. I

 turned my head and stuck out my tongue to  try and reach it but he

 grabbed my jaw and held my head still while he rubbed his sticky

 dickhead across my face, wiping his precum onto my nose and  cheeks

 before sticking the head into my mouth and ordering me to "Suck,

 boy!" I explored his smallish dick with my tongue, finding that  he

 was uncut and gently  tounging under his foreskin as I sucked him

 further into my mouth.


 Meanwhile two guys  were working on my crotch, one  with his head

 under me licking  my ass  and another  sucking  on  my dick.  My

 asshole  was still feeling tender from  the reaming I'd just had, but

 the guy licking was an expert; his tongue flickered and probed  and

 stroked me till I was moaning as well as I could with my mouth full

 of cock, feeling my ass open up more and more as  he worked his hot

 tongue  deeper into me. The guy  sucking my dick alternated between

 fast and slow strokes, bringing  me slowly closer and closer to the

 edge. My balls were  aching, I needed to come so bad, my legs were

 shaking and twitching I  was so close, but  he stopped and took his

 mouth away  as I  reached the  very brink,  gripping his fist tightly

 round the base of my cock to keep me from coming.


 Everything seemed  to hang suspended in  space for a moment,the  guy

 in my mouth and the one on my ass holding  still as I teetered there

 on the very edge of  coming, then slowly  slipped back from  the

 edge, whimpering  and half crying with need and frustration.


 "What makes you think you deserve to come, pretty boy?" said a voice

 in my ear. "You  gotta get all  of us  off  first, at least  once

 each, probably more, then maybe, maybe we'll let you come. If you're

 lucky."


 My mouth  was still full  of cock so  I couldn't do  much except

 grunt  in reply, but he didn't  seem to expect an answer. The guy  in

 my mouth moved then, turning  around to face  the bottom of  the bed

 and  holding my head with both hands. He tipped my  head back and

 wedged something hard between my jaws to  force my mouth wide open,

 then nudged his cock into  my mouth again, this time pushing it in

 firmly  as far as it would go and beginning to fuck my throat slowly.

 As he  did so, hands untied my ankles and lifted them up, They held

 me there and I expected to feel another cock pushing at my asshole,

 but instead I heard a  swishing sound. For a moment I couldn't work

 it out, but the feel of the cane slashing across my asscheeks told me

 all I needed to  know. My whole body jerked with the  shock and I

 clenched my fists round the straps holding me. Six hard strokes left

 me shaking, my ass burning with  pain, then I got what  I expected

 before - a  hard, well greased cock pressing against my

 pain-tightened asshole.


 It took a conscious  effort to relax enough for him to  get it in,

 then he and the guy  fucking my mouth synchronized their strokes,

 one going in as the other pulled  out so that it felt  after a while

 as if  there was just one cock that passed all the way through my

 body.


 As  the strokes  grew quicker  and harder  I felt  a touch  on the

 nipple clamps, then someone  began to pull on them alternately,  in

 time with the cocks plunging in  and out of my mouth  and my ass,

 sending jolts  of fire through my  nerves straight to my  cock. Hands

 tightened on  my head and I felt the cock in  my mouth begin to

 swell. He pulled  it out and rubbed it hard against my face, spurting

 his cum onto my chin and cheeks and leaning his weight hard against

 my face as  he gasped in pleasure. The guy fucking my  butt was

 grunting as  he rammed  the last  few strokes  into me, then

 collapsed  across  my  chest,  his  cock  still  twitching  inside me

 as I squeezed my muscles round him.


 Slowly they withdrew and I felt a tongue licking the cum off my face,

 then my wrists were untied from the bed  rail and fastened behind me

 again, and they rolled me off the bed onto the floor.


 "Somewhere in  this room are  a couple of hard  pricks, boy,"said a

 voice.  "Now you crawl around and find 'em, and suck 'em. And make it

 quick!"


 It's  very awkward  crawling with  your hands  tied behind you,

 especially when you're blindfolded and keep bumping into things, and

 don't know where you're heading anyway.  I started out trying to

 move quickly, as ordered, but  after I'd  fallen over  once and

 cracked my  head on  the corner  of something I slowed down. Someone

 didn't approve of that and swatted my ass to speed  me up again,

 then I found  a pair of  legs and searched upwards with my tongue

 for his cock. But when  I found it was  soft, this must have been

 one of the guys  who'd just had me,  so I kept on  searching. I could

 hear them laughing at me and  moving around in the room, I knew they

 were keeping out  of the way so I  couldn't find them, and every  so

 often one of them would push me over with his foot or give me a whack

 on my back or asscheeks with a belt because I was too slow.


 Eventually I tripped  for the umpteenth time and landed  on a pair of

 feet which  backed away  hastily. I  scrambled forward  on my  knees

 and  chest trying not to let  him getaway, then as he backed up

 against the wall and had  to  stop  I  knelt  upright  and  found

 his  hard cock, still inside underpants. Carefully  I used my teeth

 to pull down the  waistband of his briefs, working  them downwards

 until I  could reach his cock  and his big shaved balls. I started

 licking eagerly, I've always wanted to lick a pair of really smooth

 balls and he  smelled and tasted wonderful. I sucked them and licked

 them and  rolled them around in the sac, trying  to get both in my

 mouth  at once and not  quite succeeding, until someone  pulled my

 head away and remarked that  I was supposed to be working on  his

 dick, not his balls.


 Reluctantly I left  those gorgeous balls and started on  his dick. It

 felt warm and smooth under my tongue as I licked up and down the

 shaft, getting him slick and wet with my spit,  then nibbling with my

 lips round the edge of his mushroom head before sucking it into my

 mouth. As I worked more and more of his length into my mouth I forgot

 about everything else, my aching balls and nipples and ass faded

 into the background till all that existed was his thick stalk

 invading my mouth, the feel and the smell and taste of him. The

 others in the room were quiet,  all I could hear were my own soft

 pleasure noises and  the wet sounds as I  sucked him

 enthusiastically. His breathing grew quicker  and louder as he wound

 his  fingers in my hair and pulled me  harder onto his dick,  fucking

 my throat fiercely  as his balls pulled up and pressed harder against

 my  chin, and he squirted his hot cum into my mouth and down my

 throat.  He held my head pressed close into him, grinding my face

 into his crotch and jerking spasmodically as I sucked the last few

 drops  of cum out of him,  unable to breathe but wanting  to keep him

 in me as long as I could.


 Eventually he  pulled away and I  licked his cock clean,  then leaned

 down again to lick the sweat off his balls. For a moment I was

 allowed to, then someone pulled me round so that I  faced out away

 from him, and he gripped my head tightly. The blindfold was pulled

 off and I faced a semicircle of stiff cocks,  only inches from  my

 face. I  couldn't look up  to see which cock belonged to who as my

 head was  held firmly, I just watched as a fist encircled each  cock

 and they began  to stroke. It was  fascinating to see the

 differences;  different  sizes,  shapes,  cut  and  uncut,  different

 stroking techniques and speeds, some  which dribbled precum right

 from the start, one  which only produced  a few drops  until the

 moment  of coming.  Every so often one of them would  lean forward

 and wipe his cock across my face,  leaving a  sticky smear  of

 precum.  When they  started to  come it almost took me by surprise, I

 was  so involved in watching the action, but one by one they leaned

 forward and  squirted the warm sticky stuff onto my face and hair.

 Immediately after they had finished the guy holding my head used the

 blindfold to  wipe up a lot of the cum,  then tied the wet sticky

 cloth back across my eyes.


 I was  pulled  to  my  feet  and  spun  around  several  times  till

 I was completely disoriented again, then one of them picked me up,

 swung me over his shoulder, and  carried me across the room. When  he

 let me down, hands grasped my legs and spread them apart  and I

 realized that at least one of the guys had  not jacked off in my

 face with the others. They  lowered me onto his  hard dick until  I

 was  sitting  on it facing  outwards, my legs hanging down either

 side.


 "OK boy, now fuck  yourself on it" he said, and I  recognized the

 voice as Don's. I planted my feet firmly on either side and started

 to do squats on his big cock,  feeling it push into my aching  rectum

 again and again, his hands  lightly  resting  on  my  hips  to

 control  the speed and depth. I followed the  pressure of his hands,

 lifting up right off  him and making short bouncing  movements so

 that his  head popped in and  out of my hole, then swooping  down so

 that  the full length  drove into me  and the thick base  of his

 cock stretched  my butthole  almost beyond  bearing. I  kept going,

 his  hands gripping my  hips tighter and  urging me faster  and his

 cock starting to push up into me from underneath.


 Suddenly he held  me still, wrapped both arms round  my waist and

 stood up so that  my feet lifted  off the  ground.  Other guys hands

 moved me into position on  my knees and  chest as he  knelt on the

 floor behind me, not letting his cock  slip out of my asshole. He

 began to move again, fucking me with quick hard rough strokes while

 other hands pulled at my balls and sore nipples again, and slapped my

 red-striped ass. He came fast and hard with a short deep groan and

 his  fingernails digging into my hips where he was holding me.


 When he pulled out they stood me upright and pulled me to the door,

 waited a moment while someone  checked that the bathroom was  empty,

 then hustled me along the  hall. My legs would hardly  work and I

 would have  fallen if they hadn't held me up. When we  reached the

 bathroom they dropped me face up in the bath,  locked the door, then

 there was a  moments silence as one of them moved to stand over my

 face.


 "Open your mouth and lick, boy" said  a voice, and I did so, finding,

 when I stretched out my tongue, an asshole poised above my face. I

 licked at it and  he lowered  his butt  till he   was sitting  firmly

 on  my face.  The blindfold was pulled off and as I licked and sucked

 at his hole I saw each of them step up  beyond him and piss on me,

 the  warm liquid spraying over my chest and stomach and crotch and

 legs till I was lying in a pool of it.  The guy  sitting on me stood

 up when they had  all finished and carefully pissed on my face,

 making sure my hair was soaked in his piss and spraying it into my

 mouth.


 They rolled me  over then so that I  was lying face down in  the

 pool, and one of them  pushed a couple of fingers  into my asshole

 and pulled  me up onto my knees. A fist wrapped round the head of my

 wet cock.


 "If you want to  come, boy, you gotta fuck that fist"  said one of

 them. I stared to push  into it and the guy  with his fingers in my

 ass held them rigid so that  as I pushed in and out  of the fist I

 fucked my  ass on the fingers. My ass hurt and the piss was stinging

 my nipples where the clamps had  bitten into  them, but  I kept

 fucking that  tight fist  until I was almost ready  to come -  and he

 let  go. Took his  hand completely away so that I  was fucking air

 and getting nowhere.  I cried then.  I begged and pleaded for  them

 to let  me come until  they untied my  hands and made me jack off

 lying in the pool of piss.


 After coming  I lay there curled  up with my eyes  closed, holding my

 cock and wondering  what was going to  happen now. I didn't  think I

 could take much  more, but  in fact  I didn't  have to.  They pulled

 me up  so I was sitting  up, then  one after  another they  gave me

 a long  deep kiss and walked  out. I  was left  sitting in  the bath,

 covered in  piss and cum, looking across the room at Don.


 "You need a shower, kid" he said, and climbed in with me, pulling me

 up to lean against  him as he closed  the curtain and set  the hot

 water flowing over both  of us.


            **********************************************


 When was  that? A month  ago. Couldn't be.  Was. There was  the date.

 Time stamp, with the date staring back at me.


 I sat staring at that line of stars,  wondering if all of it had

 happened.  The online  chats. Then the  voice on the  phone. High and

 clear, a tenor that could sing  any of the boy parts  in a Medieval

 choir. But  not singing chants. "Oh, sir. Please ram your cock up my

 ass. Please sir, I want it! I want to be yours, sir.  Ohhhhh! Give me

 the belt, sir. The riding crop. The whip, sir. All of it!! All of

 it!"


 And not only that voice: a face  to match. What one of those old

 cardinals cruising the canals  might have given for this boy.  Dress

 him in a bright red cassock with the white lace hiding a wide black

 collar around his pale neck. Hiding the  wide welts on his

 china-white globes.  Take him to Rome.  Walk, with him trailing

 behind, carrying the bags, while (under the robes) his balls were

 tied off and a heavy weight  bounced against his thighs as he walked

 there across the sunny plaza. Secrets.


 I fought down  the thoughts that  came along with  the hot images.

 Fought back the impulse to explore deeply  the breadth of feelings

 that had built over the weeks. Using. Who uses. Owning. Who owns?


 Blood and sweat. The look of it and  the feel of it. The taste of it.

 Open a vein in my chest  with a sharp fingernail and press his  mouth

 to it and make him drink.


 When did I first  think of saying, "Get your ass on  a plane and get

 here, boy!" When  did I first  hear those  words  in my head?  First

 imagine the scene at the airport, in the car, at  the house? It took

 a week before the voice in my head became my voice on  the phone,

 saying it. "And I want you prepared when  you get here,  boy! Clean,

 smooth  and wearing your  collar under your clothes. You understand

 me, boy??"


 And the  soft reply, "Yes, sir.  I understand. I will  be more than

 ready, sir. I  think you may  be pleased. I  will call in  a day or

 two with the times, sir. And then, sir, I will be yours. Completely

 yours, daddy."


 Mine.  I wonder.


 Then the phone rang.  "I will be arriving at 9 PM  on Friday night,

 sir. I will be ready, sir.  I want to belong to you, sir. I  will,

 sir. I will be yours. Yours, sir."


 "Good,  boy. Good."  My voice  sounded hoarse.  My mind  whirled,

 spun. My groin ached.


 Mine.  I wonder.


 "I'll be ready, boy."


 I wonder.


                               THe END

ÿ