Christopher, Craig & Co.
Part 75: Fuck Slave.
Master was really mad at me when I got his call. He wanted to know why I hadn’t been home when Brian came over last night. He yelled so much that he didn’t even give me a chance to explain.
I drove down to the Club and knocked on the back door. Master opened it and let me in.
I couldn’t believe it when I saw Alan. I wondered where he had been. He didn’t come home anymore. Right now he was standing on his toes, his ankles locked to a spreader bar, with a pole impaling his ass. There was sweat on his forehead and upper lip, and he stared straight ahead like he couldn’t even see me.
I walked up to him and saw that his cock was locked in a chastity device.
“Pay no attention to him, boy,” Master said. “He knows if he moves he’ll rip his own ass apart.”
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“Strip,” he commanded.
I had no choice. I quickly shucked off my clothes and stood naked. I didn’t know what Master was going to do me and I was scared.
“You won’t be dancing tonight, boy,” Master said with a big smile. “Down on all fours.”
I obeyed.
Master roughly pushed my head down to the floor and then yanked my hands under me to my feet. I could feel the cold steel of the bar as he locked my ankles and wrists in place. I couldn’t move. My hands and feet were locked together on the bar.
Then Master patted my ass. I heard the zipper of his pants before I felt his hard cock penetrate me. He fucked me hard and fast.
“You like this, boy. You like having your brains fucked out by your Master.”
It hurt, but my cock got hard.
“You know when your Master is in you that you’re not such a worthless piece of shit.”
Master pulled out of me and grabbed my balls, hard. It felt like he would rip them right off my body. I grunted in pain. I watched as Master attached weights to my balls. My cock seemed to get even harder.
Master began fucking me again. “Boy, you don’t have permission to cum. If you shoot without permission, I’ll have to punish you.”
“Yes, Master,” I whimpered.
I could see Alan out of the corner of my eye. It looked like tears were running from his eyes, but he made no sound and didn’t move at all, except for a little twitching on his toes.
Master continued to fuck until he shot. When he was done he slapped my ass and walked away, zipping up his pants.
He picked up my discarded socks, knotted them together, and fashioned a gag. I could taste the sweat from my own feet in my mouth.
I couldn’t move, so I waited.
A little while later Master walked down the stairs holding a leash. At the end of it, on all fours with a collar around his neck and leather mitts on his hands was Leatherman. His tongue hung out of his mouth and he panted like a real dog.
Master tugged at the leash and Leatherman crawled beside him. Master stopped when they got to me. Leatherman mounted me and started fucking me. He rode me until he was done and then he trotted away on all fours, with Master still holding the leash.
Master led him over to Alan. Leatherman began sniffing at and licking Alan’s feet. Alan didn’t move or make a sound. He stood on his toes, staring straight ahead. I wanted to help Alan, but I couldn’t move. And I knew Master would only get madder if I tried to help Alan.
Master tugged Leatherman away and they climbed the stairs together.
When Master returned, he had another boy with him. This boy was wearing a hood that hid his entire face except for two small eyeholes. His arms were behind his back, and when he turned I saw that his wrists and elbows were tied together.
Master pushed the boy down behind me and again I felt a cock inside me. I wasn’t sure how much more I could take. My ass was sore and my cock was throbbing and my balls were aching and my legs were cramping.
This boy pounded me harder and harder until I was sure I was going to shoot, but he came inside me and then Master pulled him to his feet and they left the room.
When Master returned he grabbed my hair and pulled the gag out of my mouth. It hung around my neck, drool dripping from the wet socks down my chest.
Master wrapped my hair in his fingers. “I like you as a blond boy. He pulled his cock from his pants and shoved it into my mouth.
I gagged a little at first. I hadn’t expected to take all of him like that.
“Suck me off good, boy. If you do a good job I’ll let you cum.”
My cock was so hard it hurt. I would have done anything to cum. I gave the blowjob of my life. As I sucked and licked Master he spoke to me:
“That’s a good boy. You like being fucked. You like sucking cock. You’re a good bottom boy. You will suck and be fucked by any man I tell you to. You’re my good boy. Suck me, boy. You fucking slave.”
Master pulled my hair harder. I yelped, but he only pulled me closer to him, his cock penetrating my throat.
I sucked and licked and every now and then Master groaned.
Then he shot.
“Drink up, fuck slave,” he commanded.
I swallowed his cum and licked his cock clean.
Master fastened his pants then walked around me. He reached under me and pulled on my cock and balls.
“I bet you’re ready to shoot, boy. You want to cum so bad you can taste it, don’t you?” Master laughed.
I wanted to cum, but all I could taste was Master’s cum.
“There’s one more thing you have to do first,” Master said. He unlocked the bar on my wrists and ankles. “Get up!”
I stood up, but my legs and arms were hurting. Then the pain in my balls registered.
Master took my arm in a viselike grip and marched me up the stairs. I had never been upstairs before. He led me down a hall and then pushed open a door.
A boy was inside, trussed up in a sling. He was naked and his body looked red and bruised.
Master shut the door and locked it.
“Is somebody there?” the boy asked. He sounded afraid.
My stomach did a flip flop.
“Please let me go,” the boy said. “I won’t tell anybody anything. I swear. Just please let me go.”
Master spoke directly into my ear. “You fuck that boy real good and I’ll let you cum.”
I looked at Master with wide eyes.
“You do what you’re told, boy!” Master snapped.
“Yes, Master.”
I stepped up to the boy in the sling and Master handed me a condom. I put it on and tried to slowly ease into the boy.
He shuddered and gasped. “Please. No. I can’t take anymore. No. Please let me go.”
“Fuck him, you cocksucker!” Master barked at me.
I went slowly, trying not to hurt the boy. Still, he cried, his whole body shaking with sobs. I couldn’t see his tears because of the blindfold he wore, but he looked familiar.
“Fuck him!” Master commanded. “Faster! Faster!”
I sped up. My cock ached.
“Stupid fucking slave,” Master shouted behind me. “Fuck him, you worthless pig. You do what I tell you when I tell you. Fuck him!”
I moved faster, the weight dragging on my balls, my cock feeling like it would break. I was sweating all over.
“You’ll have to do better than that if you want to cum, you cocksucker,” Master roared.
I thrust over and over into the boy, harder and harder. He cried and screamed. I couldn’t take it. Between his screaming and Master’s yelling I felt like I was going crazy. I started to feel sick and dizzy. Just when I thought I was going to blackout I heard Master say:
“Cum, slave!”
I bucked and shot, my knees feeling weak.
As I pulled out of the boy I realized he had stopped crying.
Master shoved me by the shoulders to the floor.
“You’re a good little fuck slave,” he said. “You got off easy this time. Disobey me again and I’ll show you just how worthless you are.”
To be continued in Part 76…
Christopher, Craig & Co.
Part 76: Evasion.
Scott really put me through my paces last night, but he was a concerned Master and didn’t push too hard. While he did have me worship him a bit, and seemed to become quite aroused giving me simple commands to follow, he mostly made slow, sensual, mind-blowing love to me all night long.
Sunday morning I awoke to find a short blurb in the newspaper about a body found in the alley near Leatherman’s Club.
“Fuck me,” I said.
“I thought you had enough of that last night,” Scott replied. He grinned wolfishly at me across the kitchen table.
I nodded at the memory. It had been a while since I’d allowed myself to be topped by any man. It was different with Scott in a way I found hard to describe. When I had wrestled a bit for control last night he had gently but firmly reminded me that I had offered this arrangement.
I also knew he took his time with me, making me as comfortable as possible. It wasn’t at all like sex with Richard. Scott was tender, and loving, and…
Christ, I sounded like a lovesick teenager again.
“So what’s so awful in the paper?” Scott asked, breaking me out of my reverie.
I pointed to a short article. “There was a body found in the alley behind Leatherman’s.
He raised his eyebrows. “Let me see that.” He scanned the page quickly. “The ID hadn’t been released when this went to press. I’m surprised I didn’t hear about it already.” He took out his cell phone and dialed wherever it is he dialed.
The Batcave? The Fortress of Solitude? The Cone of Silence? Well, it was probably none of those, but Scott sure didn’t seem to be forthcoming with details about where he was actually employed.
He stood and wandered down the hall as he spoke to whomever it was at the end of the line. Again I found myself guessing. I knew he had a section chief, based on several conversations we’d had. I didn’t know exactly what the “section” was, or if the chief was male or female. If I were a jealous man, I’d suspect his secrecy involved an ex-lover, but somehow I didn’t see Scott having an office romance in his past.
Scott’s past. There was something I was curious about. If I didn’t have so many damn morals I would have just asked him more about his past when I had him under hypnosis. It might have been funny if it wasn’t my life: I take boys and hypnotize them into new and different personalities, but I’m hesitant to ask my lover about his life before we met.
Scott returned and resumed his seat opposite me.
“Who was it?” I asked.
“So far he’s a John Doe. No ID. The local police are running him through the system. Autopsy is scheduled for Monday morning.”
“Well I just hope it’s nobody we know.”
Scott didn’t reply.
I crossed to the counter and refilled my coffee. I gestured with the pot toward Scott, but he shook his head.
“Scott,” I said, dumping cream into the coffee. “You never really talk about your job.”
“There’s a lot I’m really not allowed to discuss.” His tone was guarded.
I nodded. “I figured that. You know I read a lot of mysteries and secret agent novels.”
He grinned.
“When I fantasized about a sexy agent sweeping me off my feet I never really imagined you’d show up though.”
Scott crossed his arms. The T-shirt he was wearing stretched taut against the muscles of his chest and biceps. “It’s not that I don’t enjoy being flattered,” he said, “but where is this conversation heading?”
“I’ve been wondering about you. More specifically you before I met you. I mean you didn’t just appear one day. You had to have grown up somewhere, gone to school, had relationships…”
“Oh,” he said.
“I was hoping for a little more than that.”
“Does it matter?” he asked.
I didn’t respond right away. I didn’t want this to become a big thing. That didn’t mean curiosity wasn’t eating me up. “No. But you pretty much know where all of the bodies are buried around here.” I shrugged, aiming for nonchalance. “If you don’t want to tell me, it’s fine.”
“There really isn’t anything to tell.”
I sighed. “Well, I won’t ask your age, because I know you’re younger than I am. But were you born in New York?”
“No.”
I frowned. “You’re not going to give me anything here, are you?”
He shrugged. “I don’t mean to be evasive, Chris. I have an entire cover story for who Scott Wilson, college student and bartender, is. Sometimes that seems more real to me than the truth.”
I don’t know exactly what my expression was saying, but Scott’s reaction to it told me I had surpassed skeptical.
“Now you’re mad,” he said.
“No, I’m not mad,” I said. I sounded mad though. Even to me.
He nodded.
“I just think that with all of the information you have about my past, there’s really no reason why you can’t share a few details about where you come from.”
Scott’s cell phone chirped. He glanced at it, then at me. “I have to take this?”
“Then you’d better.”
He flipped open the phone. As he listened to the caller he held my gaze. “I’ll be right there,” he said. He closed the phone. “I’m sorry. We’ll talk later?”
I shrugged.
He rounded the table and kissed the top of my head. “I should be back in time for dinner. We’ll go out someplace nice.”
I shrugged again.
And then Scott left.
I took a deep breath. I sat at the table for awhile, absently drumming my fingers. It was a silly thing to be annoyed about. But if Scott trusted me half as much as I had him he would have told me something about his past.
I strode into the den and opened up the internet. I googled Scott Wilson. There were only about 78 million hits. I sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy. And, really, if Scott had as much of a detailed dossier on his undercover role here as he led me to believe, how would I know if what I found was accurate anyway?
I took another deep breath. Okay. Two could play at this game. Scott had his secrets; I could have some of my own.
I picked up the phone and dialed the ten digits. “Hey. What are you up to this afternoon? Want to come over?”