Date: Wed, 11 Sep 2002 06:42:34 -0400 From: istari <firstname.lastname@example.org> Subject: Mastering Alex 13 - 15 The following story describes the evolving relationship between and man and a soon-to-be thirteen-year-old boy. It is the story of a safe, loving, consensual, dominant/submissive relationship and does contain scenes of bondage, sado-masochism, etc. If that sort of thing makes you uncomfortable, please stop reading. This story is utter fiction, the product perhaps of my own childhood fantasies, and nothing more. Comments are welcome at email@example.com Thanks to everyone who's said such nice things about Alex and his adventures. And Special Thanks to "Rick", who has provided some deep insights on the Master/slave relationship and is not afraid to challenge me from time to time. Mastering Alex Chapter 13: Weathering a Storm. Summer in our part of the country brings on vicious storms without much warning, and one was raging outside, battering the windows as I led my boy to his bedroom. "I'm going to fuck you on your own bed," I explained, "so that you learn there is no place in this house where your little ass isn't mine. I can have you any time I want, day or night." "You can have me any time you want," he repeated softly several times, a mantra for a young slave. "I like that." "Take my clothes off, boy." Alex undressed me with shaking hands. He knew what was coming. His eyes danced in anticipation. "Onto the bed. On your hands and knees." "Yes, master," his voice trembled with pre-teen lust. He was in position instantly, arching his back and presenting his sweet behind to me. On my own knees behind him, I opened the lock that held the ass-strap in place and unsnapped it from the belt. Then I grabbed the butt-plug and toyed with him for a while. Holding the blunt end and twisting it, turning it, drawing it out and letting it slide back in. Alex was frantic and buried his head in the pillow. "Stay!" I shouted at him, slapping his ass hard. "Don't move again." His head shot up instantly. "Please, sir, fuck me hard, sir." "You'll be fucked blind before I'm done, don't worry about that." I yanked the butt-plug out, eliciting the most beautiful scream from my young slave. My finger replaced the metal plug instantly and I roughly probed around inside him. "Awww, aaaaww, yeah, yeah." Alex bucked and writhed, nearly letting his arms and legs give out. A second finger and then a third. I stretched his hole as far as I dared. "Am I, am I gonna cum?" he asked, his voice high and thick and strained. "Only if you can do it by being fucked. The belt stays on, little man. No orgasms means no orgasms." Without a word I pressed my drooling dick to his tender young opening. The heat coming out of him was amazing. With a single thrust I entered him, giving him almost seven inches to start. He howled and clenched his fists into the mattress. I grabbed his hips on either side, digging my fingers into his soft flesh, and I gave him a long, hard ride. Each strong thrust elicited a hysterical moan from the boy, and each withdrawal, fast or slow, resulted in a soft whimper. On the mattress between his knees a wet spot was growing as the boy's seminal fluid dribbled from his restrained cock, denied erection by the unforgiving metal pod and the straps inside that held it down. A little string of his precious boy-juice ran from the hole in the pod down to the mattress itself. A similar string of drool and spittle fell from his mouth as he shook his head desperately from side to side. Soon a chorus of grunts and squeals was coming from the boy's throat. With my hands still on his hips, I rocked us both back and forth as I shoved my cock into his depths. Fast and rough and brutal, then slow and methodical, but no less relentless, then yet more violent thrusts causing him to sob and moan. I pulled out of him completely, and rammed back in as hard as I could. Alex shouted. His arms were shaking now, unable to hold him up much longer. His whole body seemed to be convulsing with spasms of pain and pleasure. The two were the same thing for him, after all. "Put your head on the pillow," I said. Alex did just that, biting into it, splaying his arms out and clawing at the mattress. I moved one hand to his back and stroked it gently. I could hear his muffled cries in the pillow. With this brief interlude behind us, I entered him again, a little deeper than before. He was too small to take all of me, but he seemed to open a little wider and a little farther each time. His little sphincter was throbbing now, clenching and relaxing without the conscious will of its young owner. I could feel his insides starting to soften, that slick, squishy feeling of a well- fucked ass. The boy's musky brown juice was running from his ravaged hole down the insides of his legs, little brown streams on his smooth silken skin. The smell was heavy, but not that of a man. It was fresher, and cleaner somehow. I went on, ignoring his pitiable cries. I began to slap his sides, right along his rib cage, left side then his right, alternating as I fucked him. "Aw, gawd, aw. No . . . no . . . hurts so . . . aaaawww . . . bad. Don't stop!" and those were the last intelligible sounds he made for a while. Everything else was shrieks and whimpers, the sound of my hands raining down ruthlessly upon his flesh, and the sound of the storm beating against the house. I had begun to learn that the reality of man - boy sex is far greater than the fantasy, and much, much darker. Just the psychology of it is powerful. The inequality of strength and size and power cannot be disregarded or overlooked. It is far too fundamental. The man takes. He has no imperative to ask. The boy gives. He hasn't the strength to refuse. Domination and submission are inherent in the coupling, and of course for Alex and me it went far beyond that. I felt my power over him grow with each forceful thrust, each tremble of his slender frame. With that power came control. Over him, obviously, but also over myself. I loved the feeling of his young bottom clenched around my cock, but I found to my sudden delight that I could easily withhold my need to cum, prolonging Alexander's ecstasy and his torment. I'd never gone so long this way, but I saw that an entire hour had passed, and still I felt as if I'd just begun to take him. His cries were exquisite, and soon he was clumsily moving back and forth, trying desperately to fuck himself deeper on my cock. Alex was almost crazed, his motions frenzied, his breathing wild. I could feel him tightening again. And then his entire body stiffened. The only thing about him that was limp at that moment was his penis. "Something's happening! Ohh, ohhh, it's coming out, aaahhhhh," his voice trailed off until it became a low melodic hum. I pulled out of him for a moment, and my heart skipped when I saw the large puddle of pre-cum glistening on the bed, and above it, dribbling down in a ropy strand, Alexander's sperm, thin and purest white. Alex was cumming. My sweet beautiful boy was cumming, without ever getting hard, without having an orgasm. Immediately I flipped him onto his back and raised his legs. His face was streaked with tears, but there was a dreamy look in his eyes. I paused before entering him again. "I want to see you cum. Cum for your master, Alex." After a few sharp thrusts he groaned. It was a deep, mournful sound. Then a sharp gasp. He tensed again, and this time I saw it happen. Out of the metal pod more of his thin white seed spilled forth, as much as would have come had he been allowed to ejaculate. As much as he'd produced just moments before. He purred softly. I had to take him a little further. Three more times we did this, each time the product was a little less copious. The boy shuddered and gasped again, rolling his head from side to side. He was lost in this strange new sensation that had started as mind-bending pleasure but had quickly turned to endless torment. Finally in distressed frustration he glared at me. "Please let me cum, Steve. Please. You gotta . . . ahhhh, not again, not again! oohhhh, you gotta let me cum!" "You are cumming, sweetie." In a flash of insight I realized that cumming and orgasm were not the same thing for Alex. I could separate the boy's cumming from the boy's orgasms. I could make him do the one, over and over again at my whim, without ever allowing him the other. A similar thought, perhaps not so eloquently realized, must have formed in my boy's head too, for he gave me a helpless, almost panicked expression. "Just fuck me, please!" he growled. Considering the possibilities of our new discovery drove me quickly over the edge. I granted his wish, but slowly and gently now, until I finally erupted inside him. Alex was still shaking when I withdrew and lowered his legs. I lay down beside him and caressed him tenderly. "What happened?" he asked, barely able to find his voice. "I can't stop shaking." "Hush now," I whispered into his ear as I kissed his forehead. "Calm down. Calm down, Alex." I reached between his legs, where his fluid was seeping into the sheets. I ran my hand through the sticky liquid then brought it to his chest and rubbed it in. He sighed and moved closer to me. "You came, little man." Alex flopped his head onto the pillow and gazed up at the ceiling with glazed eyes. "I wasn't even hard. It felt so strange." He shivered again at the mere memory of it. "Tell me." "I can't. It just started coming out, real slow, all by itself. I could feel it, like it was way down inside me, just pushing and pushing. It sort of burned a little." Eventually I would come to learn that only a small number of males have this special gift, that only a rare handful can actually cum this way. Alex was and still is the only one I know who can do it, or rather have it done to him. It is his gift. His curse. "Did it feel good?" I asked. I would never know how it actually felt, and Alex has never been able to find adequate words to describe it. "I guess it did," he said that night, turning his eyes away from me, "but not like cumming for real. God, I still need to cum so bad." For the first time since I'd put it on him, his hands reached down to his belt in a vain attempt to get free. I didn't slap his hands or say a word, I just let the boy work at the locks and straps and the unyielding metal pod until he realized that his fate, like his cock and balls, was sealed. "I think this is going to kill me, sir," he said mournfully. "No it won't. You'll get used to it. Come on now, you're a mess. Let's get you into the shower." Alex could barely stand, and when I did get him to his feet I saw his backside was covered in his own brown juice. It was all over his butt and running down his legs. It was also all over the bed-sheet. I had to help him to the bathroom. Once there I sat him in the tub and went to fetch the keys to his belt. His eyes brightened a bit when he saw them on the ring Robert had given me. "Stand," I said. He closed his eyes as I knelt by the tub. I opened the locks on the leg straps first and let them fall free, still attached to the belt. I massaged his back and his stomach. He hummed softly and joyously to himself. Next I unbuckled the straps that kept the seed pod attached to the belt. Without their support, Alex felt its full weight for the first time. He moaned a little and I patted him on the thigh. "Not too heavy, is it?" "No, sir," came his sleepy, far away voice. With the pod loose but still encasing his jewels, I reached around behind him and opened the lock on his belt. I unbuckled it and slowly pulled it away, revealing his hairless groin for the first time in days. The opening in the jock was large enough to accommodate him even with the pod. My Alex was now naked except for the metal between his legs. He looked at me with pleading eyes and scraped his fingers over it. "It stays on, Alex. I'll unlock it once a week, so I can clean under your foreskin and give your balls a good washing. Then it goes right back." "You're never ever going to take it off me?" The giddy terror in his voice was priceless. A small voice inside told me to be careful, that I might be playing with something too big for him, but I was enjoying stringing him along. A little too much. "Tell me why I should." I took him by the wrists and pulled him close so we were eye to eye. "You do as you're told and you give me pleasure," I said sternly. "Not the other way around." I swatted his bound up genitals with my hand. "These things don't belong to you anymore, remember? I can do whatever I want with them. I might even have them cut off. I could you know. You're a slave. I could castrate you, just cut those things right off, and then you'd never cum again. Would you like that?" He shook his head slowly and bit his quivering lip. "No? Well how about your dick? All you'd have left is a little stub, not even good enough for pissing." I said all that jokingly of course, but in his current state of mind I should have known to be more careful in toying with his frayed emotions. Boys are fragile creatures and Alex was a boy who lived in a glass house where certain things were concerned. Apparently this was not the first time someone had made such a threat. His eyes welled up with tears and he fell to his knees. Then I heard him whisper. The word I'd promised myself I'd never make him say. "Butterfly." "My god." I was in the tub instantly, scooping him into my arms. "Alex, I'm sorry." He was sobbing. Not those soft, delicate, wonderful sounds he made when we were engaged in our rough sex, but deep, anguished wails, issuing from some dark hidden place he'd not been since he was eight years old. I thought back to that moment that had started this whole adventure, that horrible scene I'd discovered in the barn, watching my damaged twelve-year-old brother bash his young testicles with his fist, and the sad words he told me after. 'Boys aren't supposed to touch themselves down there.' I held him as tightly as I could without snapping him in two. "What have I done to you? I'm so sorry. I didn't know. Someone else said something like that to you, didn't he?" He answered me through his tears. "All the time. He even got the knife out once. He cut me with it, down there, just so I'd know he'd really do it. She laughed at me." I felt so angry and so guilty. For all those years ago, and for two minutes ago. But Alex didn't need me angry. He just needed me. I loosened my grip a bit and knelt down and put his head on my shoulder. His arms went around me. "Have a good cry, Alex. Just cry it all out." And he did. The storm outside had broken. I could see the faint light of summer evening in the hallway. The storm inside seemed to have done the same. "I'm sorry I used my word, sir." I held his hand. "That's what it's for. I'm sorry for making you use it. Friends?" Alex nodded, and a soft smile lit up his thoughtful face. "Your slave forever," he said. I took the showerhead from its perch and sprayed him down with warm steamy water, washing away the remnants of our session. The boy was so exhausted that he had to lean against the wall as the water hit him. I kept one hand under his nearest arm to keep him from slipping. As I was drying him he asked me again about the pod. "I will let you out, when I want you hard and begging for it." The look of relief on his face was priceless. "That's no reason to smile, kid. I don't think it's healthy for a boy not to have erections, so you'll have them, but doesn't mean you're going to have an orgasm every time. There are other things I can do with your dick when it's hard. Like slap it, or whip it . . . " "Oh, fuck yeah, whip it! I'd love that. I bet it'll make me cum. I almost can right now just thinking about it." "That's the whole idea, kid. Chastity is going to be a big part of your life from now on, in or out of the belt. Get used to it. When you turn eighteen you can decide what happens then, but for the next five years you're going to spend most of your time wishing you were hard, and when you are hard you'll be wishing you could cum like a normal kid, but you won't. Of course you can't wear the belt to school, but I'm thinking of some other ways to keep your hands away from your dick. You will not jerk off, ever. I mean that. I'll probably let you have a regular orgasm once in a while, just to make sure the plumbing still works. Maybe every year on your birthday." "One orgasm a year." He took a sharp breath. "Maybe," I said. "You'll find other ways to get pleasure. And I'll find other ways to make you cum. You like pain. We'll explore that together, once we've gotten some equipment." I could tell that simple statement had set his young imagination working. By the time we'd cleaned up his bed it was late in the evening. The sound of our growling stomachs reminded us we hadn't eaten since lunch. "Let's go out. Our Italian place is open late." "I can't go outside like this!" Alex held out his arms as if to further call attention to the quite obvious fact that he was nearly naked. "True enough. I guess I'll have to put some clothes on you." "What about this thing," he said, pointing down at the belt. "Everyone's going to stare at me." "No they won't. Robert swears it's invisible under clothing. You'll just look like you're really well hung, which you are anyway." I took him into the spare room, which now housed all of his clothes under lock and key. I picked out a pair of jeans shorts for him. He slid into them with boyish grace. I zipped him up and buttoned him, and sure enough you really couldn't tell just by a casual glance that there was anything usual about him. Just a healthy and very well made boy on the verge of adolescence. Alex chose his own shirt, a long tee with the name of the nearby college across the front. He's an avid fan of their football team, and he likes to wear their colors. It was one of those athletic team shirts, you know the type, the ones that say 'Property of'. I thought it was a wonderfully ironic choice. It took Alex a few seconds to get it, then he smiled widely. "You should put your name here," he suggested. "Then I definitely couldn't take you out. Wear this," I tossed him a baseball cap and he put it on backwards. "Are you sure I look ok?" Most boys his age don't really care, but Alex was very particular about his appearance. Sometimes he liked being noticed, sometimes he didn't, and his wardrobe reflected his changeable tastes. Regardless, I loved him in whatever he wore, or didn't. "Handsome as always," I said, turning his cap around right. He just as quickly turned it back, rolling his eyes at my utter cluelessness where young teenage fashion was concerned. It was a short drive into town. The streets were still wet and not many people were about in the late evening. The old section has been revitalized of late, but Gino's has been there since I was a kid. They know us by name. We'd been regulars for years. The owner himself greeted us, giving Alex a firm handshake and remarking casually on our unusually tardy arrival. "Just a special treat," I said. "Alex worked like a dog today." The boy had to choke down his laughter. The place was almost empty, but it still had that warm comfortable feel you always get in places where you're known. There were a few couples at random tables enjoying a late meal, but we found ourselves in a quiet booth off in a darkened corner. The booth seemed to swallow him as he sat across from me, one of those rare and endearing instances of scale when you realize that your young man is really still a boy, despite how hard he's trying not to be. We smiled at each other. Suddenly, and for the first time in days, we were just brothers again. It felt strange, but also good. We'd have to make sure we made time for that. "This is neat," he said, looking around. "Got the place to ourselves, just about." "Pays to eat late." Alex ordered the sausage and peppers, his favorite. I got the lasagna and a carafe of red wine. When the owner stopped by to check on us, I asked him to bring a second glass for Alexander. The boy's eyes beamed. "I thought you didn't want me drinking that kind of stuff." "I never said that. I just want you to learn to be careful. I worry about you. First dad, then me. If he hadn't been drunk . . . if I hadn't been stoned out of my head . . . this stuff had already hurt you, Alex, before you ever took a drop of it. I won't let it hurt you again." "It wasn't your fault I was abused. You're making me better." He'd said it so quietly and so quickly that it almost went right by. It was, at the time, one of the sweetest things he'd ever said to me. I filled his glass half full and we toasted silently, there was no need for words in that special moment. I learned quickly that even half a glass of wine in a dark quiet restaurant was a little more than Alex could handle. Not that he was actually drunk that night, but it was obvious he was seeing things through wine colored eyes. All through the meal he had the giggles. He was aware enough to keep his voice down, but everything seemed to make him laugh and elicit some sharp comment from him. Actually I rather enjoyed him in his slightly 'relaxed' state. Alex does not laugh very often, and I thought how strange and how sad that it took chemicals to bring out this rare and wonderful side of his personality. He ate a huge dessert. I had coffee. By the time we got home it was after one in the morning. As I'd done a few days earlier, I stripped him on the front porch, and made him carry his clothes and shoes inside. Being naked at home was something he'd grown accustomed to over the last few years, but this new ritual of being stripped before he was allowed to enter would become a powerful re-enforcement of my discipline and his submission. His humble nakedness was a constant reminder of his enslavement, one I would use more and more to control and dominate him. "You have to be spanked," I reminded him as he got ready for bed. He stood up straight and looked me in the eye. "How many am I getting, sir?" "You'll always get ten, just to remind you. You get forty more tonight for moving twice when I told you to stay. Tell you what, you can take all fifty now, or you can just do your ten and save the rest for tomorrow." "Sir, if I take all of them, will I still get spanked in the morning?" "Yes. You get ten every morning, and every night. That's not negotiable." Alex thought about it for a moment. "I'll take my ten now, and the rest tomorrow." "Good enough." I sat down and put him over my knee. I gave him ten swift hard spanks, just enough to give his cheeks a little pink glow. Then I laid him down on his back and tied his wrists to the iron bars of the headboard, stretching his arms. He sighed and smiled at me. I spread his feet wide apart and tied his ankles in the same way, looping the excess rope so it was good and taught. This put just a slight strain on his muscles and ligaments, but one he could not relieve. I ran my fingers around his navel and up his firm tight stomach. He was panting softly, enjoying my touch. Then I pinched his nipples and twisted them slowly. "Aaaahh." "Like that?" "Yes," he hissed through clenched teeth. I played with his boy-buds, no larger than dimes, for about twenty minutes. He thrashed his head against his pillow and pulled against his bonds. Every once in a while he would yell out in pain, but mostly he just sighed and hummed and licked his lips with his tongue. The boy's nips were red and visibly swollen when I was finished. He begged me to keep going. "No more tonight," I said as I laid the sheets and blankets over him. Then I gave him my most wicked expression and patted his stretched-out legs. "If you have a cramp, just scream." My boy almost growled at me. "You're really sick, you know that?" I kissed him on the forehead. "Actually the word you want is sadistic, and yes I am. Sweet dreams, Alex." Sadist. I'd used that word lightly a moment ago, but as I retired to my own room I recognized that it was a fundamental truth about me. I did enjoy causing Alex pain, as much as he enjoyed feeling it. I enjoyed that beautiful grimace on his face whenever I roughly entered him. I enjoyed the soft sounds of his whimpering and moaning, and his frantic frenzied sobs as I fucked him. I felt a great surge of power and excitement as I spanked him, making my cute boy's behind red and sore. I wondered what other things we might explore, and I no longer felt the least fear about doing it. I'd have to get some whips for him, and something to work on his nipples. And then there was the boy's cock and his balls. Those would definitely have to be dealt with too. Could I train his dick to respond only to pain? Alex came when I fucked him, could I find other ways to make him do it? I knew that I could, and I knew deep down that he would never be entirely whole until I did. Chapter 14: Certain Truths. Alex was awake and waiting for me when I walked into his room. "You're up. Good boy. Sleep well?" He nodded. "My legs are a little sore." I played with his outstretched body for a few minutes, pinching his nipples, running my hands over his thighs and up between his legs. Then I climbed on top of him, gradually letting my entire weight press down. Alex gasped. We were face to face, and I forced my tongue into his mouth. He took it greedily and returned my actions with his own, his small tongue dancing playfully with mine. "Keep your mouth open," I said, as I got to my knees and crawled closer. I unzipped my jeans and let my cock fall free. I took his head with both hands and lifted it toward me. "Make me hard," I ordered. Alex took me eagerly into his young mouth. I was erect and throbbing in just seconds and he sucked and slurped for all he was worth. "You love having a big hard cock in your mouth, don't you?" "Mmmph, mmmph," were the only sounds the boy could make, but I could see the light in his eyes. I rubbed his head as he continued his morning cock feeding. He was getting quite good at stringing me along, perhaps a little revenge for my not allowing him to cum. I could see the wicked, knowing look in his eyes. "Don't tease your master," I said. The boy stopped his game immediately and took me over the edge. I filled his mouth with my seed, then presented him my softening cock. "Lick me clean." He nearly got me hard again, and I had to stop or we'd have been there all day. "It's not fair, you know," he moaned as I began releasing him from the ropes. "You've cum like five or six times since you put this thing on me, and you haven't even let me do it once." "Jealous?" "Yes." "Hate me?" "Yes!" "Ready for your punishment?" "Hell, yes!" I could see his joints were stiff from being stretched all night, but he gamely put himself over my knees. "Let's see now, how many was it?" "Forty, sir," he said. "Plus your ten this morning. You weren't thinking I'd forget those, were you?" "No, sir." "I think you were. That's twenty more." I heard him groan in protest. "You knew you were supposed to get fifty. 'I will not lie to my master.' Sound familiar?" "Yes, sir." "Now how many does that make?" "Seventy, sir." "You won't be sitting down for a while." I brought my hand down hard on his left ass-cheek. The lovely sound of soft boyflesh being smacked rang in the air. "Ouch!" "Remember to count. Let's start again." Another good solid swat, this time on his right cheek. "One, sir," he said through gritted teeth. He was squirming and wailing when I reached the halfway point. Then I stopped. "On your feet. Don't rub your butt." The butt in question was a nice shade of red now. "Go to the bathroom and bring me your hairbrush." Seeing as how he didn't currently have any hair on his head, he knew immediately what it would be used for. Like a condemned prisoner he marched off and returned, head bowed, holding the brush loosely in his left hand. "Back into position," I said. He gave me the brush and put himself across my lap again. Alex had never been spanked with a brush before, and I had never used one. For the next ten minutes we both learned what an exquisitely painful and effective disciplinarian it could be. It was a good thing we live out in the country, for his shouts and screams would have surely awakened the neighbors. When it was done, he was sobbing quietly, and his cute little ass was a dark shade of purple, a few bruises beginning to appear. "Stand," I said. With some effort Alex did so. I left him like that for about thirty minutes while I made my coffee. When I returned he'd managed to calm down, although his eyes were still red and his rear end was still visibly sore. I instructed him to get his butt-plug and follow me to the bathroom. I gave him his morning enema, and made him hold his water a little longer than the day before. Each day I'd be adding a few minutes, enforcing my control over his bodily functions. After he'd had his shit and his piss I bent him over again. He sighed as I worked the plug back inside him. I locked the strap in place again and he was ready for another day of endless arousal and frustration. After breakfast, I had Alex put on his shoes and took the boy outside. Next to the old barn there was a pen for the horses that used to live there. Parts of the fence had long since vanished, but enough remained to establish its boundaries. The grass was low, trimmed by Alex the Saturday before. It was still wet with morning dew. "This is where you'll exercise from now on. You'll be fixing up this fence too." I had him run twenty laps around the pen. Walking in a chastity belt with his ass plugged had taken Alex some adjustment, now having the boy run in his new apparel was quite an entertaining scene. He'd yelp and wince whenever the plug jabbed his prostate. Inside the pod, I'm sure his dick and balls were getting a nice massage. I leaned against the fence and admired him the entire time he was running. Alex was beautiful, strong and graceful, his young muscles flexing and stretching with each stride of his growing legs. Alexander's lean, almost thirteen-year-old body was glistening with sweat when he finished. Twenty times around was actually quite a good run, but his eyes were dancing and vibrant when he stood and presented himself before me. Since he was ten, Alex had been a bit of a fanatic where exercise was concerned, a habit I encouraged. Making it another part of his new life of submission and slavery just came naturally. He yawned in the early morning light. "Hot and sweaty?" "Yes, sir." I took him to the side of the barn and picked up the hose. I sprayed him down with the frigid water for a good five minutes. He shrieked and shouted and pranced around. "Stand still," I said, trying to contain my laughter at his boyish antics. "Raise your arms over your head. Keep them there." His hairless armpits were quite a turn on, pale white compared to the golden tan that covered the rest of him. I made sure to train the hose on them for a while, letting the icy water trickle down his sides. Last I splashed him in the face. Alex sputtered and coughed, but did not look away. In the end he was dripping and shivering. "You've still got work to do in the barn, right?" I asked. "I do, sir." "Then get cracking. I'll feed you your lunch on the porch." Still wet, Alex obediently went to work and I left him to it. I still had a lot of writing to do and an approaching deadline to meet. I realized that spending every waking moment with the boy was an unrealistic idea. Things still had to get done. Everyday life still had to be lived. And yet he would still be a slave. I suppose many people think it's all about sex, and perhaps at first that was my expectation too, but I was beginning to understand that this was a way of life for Alex, and for me. Everything we did would always have some element of discipline and control, obedience and submission. I did not have to be with him every moment, it was enough for the boy to know that he was a slave, and that he was being mastered. It was enough for me to know that I was a master, and that Alex was my slave. Lunch was late, and Alex gobbled it down with his increasingly voracious appetite. When he was finished, I briefly inspected his rump. It was still a warm shade of crimson, slightly bruised. He winced when I gently caressed his twin globes. "You really got me good, sir," the boy said, craning his neck back. He could feel the stinging and the dull ache, but he couldn't see it. "Just the beginning, kid. But I'll have to go easy back there for the next few days." Then I gave him a menacing look. "I'll just find other places to beat you." He whistled. "Cool." "Are you done in the barn?" "Sure am. Let me show you." Something in his voice told me he'd done something out there he was eager for me to see. He ran ahead like a little kid, waiting impatiently for me to catch up. Inside, the place was neat and tidy, the final product of several months hard work on his part. The hard-packed dirt floor had been swept clean of debris, and the stalls had been cleared out. "There's a big pile of junk and crap like that out back," Alex said nonchalantly. He continued to give me the grand tour, pointing out some of the fallen clapboards he nailed back up and just generally feeling quite proud of himself. He had a right to. Then he stopped in front of one the stalls, the same one I'd found him in less than a week before. There was that same iron bit he'd been wearing that day, lying on the dirt floor. There was also a dented tin bucket in one corner and a pile of old rags and blankets arranged for crude bedding. "This one is mine," he said. "You can put me out here whenever you want." I confess I hadn't really thought of keeping him in the barn, but clearly this had been on Alex' mind since the beginning. Variety would make things more interesting. "Agreed," I said, "but only when I decide. I have some other ideas about where you'll be sleeping." His eyes lit up in excitement. "Tell me, sir." "No way. I like keeping you in suspense." I put my arm around him and we walked back to the house. Alex really hadn't had a chance to do any `boy' things since we started, so I told him he could have free time for the rest of the day. Strangely he seemed like a lost puppy for a while without the strict discipline he'd so quickly grown accustomed to. He puttered around for a while, getting into this and that, fixing himself a snack, the first junk food he'd been allowed in days, listening to some of his CDs in his room. Before long he was downstairs again, sitting cross-legged in front of the television, banging away with some space battle game on his new Xbox. I could hear it chirping and bleeping in there, along with the occasional curse when something didn't go his way. I was stretched out in the living room, enjoying half a nap, when the phone rang. "Would you get the phone, please, Alex." The sounds of the game stopped and I heard my boy pick up the phone in the kitchen. I could hear his side of the conversation. "Yes, sir, this is Alex . . . I'm fine, thank you . . . No, sir. Do you want to speak to him, sir . . . Wait, I'll ask him." He put the phone down and came into the living room. "It's Master Robert," he said. The excitement and anxiety was obvious in his voice. "He says my things are ready and could he come over at eight." "Tell him yes. You don't keep a man like that waiting." I looked purposefully into the kitchen where the phone lay on the counter. "Oh, shit!" He tore back into the kitchen and grabbed up the phone. "No, sir! I'm sorry, sir! I will not do that again." A long pause was followed by a sweet dejected young voice. "Yes, sir, I will ask him, sir . . . yes, sir, he says eight o'clock is fine. Thank you, sir." I heard the phone click and he was back with a plainly upset look on his face. "I really messed up," he confessed, rolling his eyes in disgust. "Did you get yelled at?" "No. That's what makes him so scary. I'm supposed to ask you to punish me for being disrespectful." "And were you?" "Not on purpose, sir. But yes, I think I was. I got so excited about getting my stuff." His beautiful hazel eyes went wide. "God, I can't believe I told him to wait!" Even I wouldn't have dreamt of ever doing that! I laughed and sat him down beside me, patting him on the leg. "You're young and you're still learning. He knows that. Don't be hard on yourself. That's my job. We'll save your punishment until he's here. He'd enjoy seeing it." Alex was fidgety and nervous the rest of the afternoon. I enjoyed watching him occasionally go to the window, imagining he'd heard a car pull up our long wooded driveway, only to turn away disappointed and return to the living room. He was getting wound up tighter and tighter as each hour passed. "Relax," I told him. "Pacing is not going to get him here any faster." He puffed down on the couch beside me. "I've been thinking about this since I got the belt," he said, looking down at his caged-up cock. His voice was soft. That wistful look was in his eyes again. "I mean, how it's going to feel, when you put my collar on me, and all the other stuff." "You don't even know what the other stuff is yet." "No, but I see what Michael wears. Do you think my collar will be like his?" "I don't know. I imagine Robert's got something special, just for you." "Mike's like the perfect slave, isn't he?" I shrugged my shoulders. "You and he are the only two slaves I know, so it's hard to tell. I'm sure he's got his flaws." "Doesn't look that way to me," he said in sincere admiration. I began to realize that my Alex was developing a sincere crush on the older boy. "I want to be like him." "I don't want you ever being anyone but yourself, but if you mean you want to learn to be a good slave, like he is, I approve." Alex beamed and snuggled up against me. Then we both heard the sound of a vehicle in the drive. The clock said seven fifty-nine. Robert was a man who thrived on order and precision. I sent Alex to put his shoes on, and he hurried back, trying to lace them up as he stumbled along. He looked adorably awkward and incredibly young. "I want you to let them in," I said. Wearing only his belt and his black high-tops, Alex marched confidently to the door. I stood in the foyer, watching. This was a big moment for us both. The bell rung and the boy opened the door. Robert towered there in the entrance. Michael, so much shorter and smaller than his master, stood behind him. Both were in jeans and t-shirts, Michael with his collar in plain view. "Hello, Master Robert," Alex said. He made a quick bow, which brought a smile to Robert's bearded face. The sight of this not quite thirteen-year-old answering the door in nothing but a chastity belt was certainly a good start to our evening. Robert ran his right hand playfully over Alex' shaven head. "Hello, Alex. Are you well?" "Yes, sir." Robert glanced toward me for just a moment, then returned his attention to the boy. "I see you're wearing your belt. Has Master Steven allowed you out of it?" "No, sir," Alex replied, "not since he put it on me." "So you haven't had an erection for . . . " "Almost three days, sir." The seasoned master chuckled. "You must be ready to pop!" "No, sir. I have cum, sir." "Have you indeed? Explain yourself, slave." "Sir, it happened when my master fucked me." Robert stared at Alex in wonder, and then at me with just a little envy. "I came, sir, but I really didn't, if you understand me, sir." Lifting the boy's eyes to his own with a tender hand under Alex' chin, he said, "I understand you perfectly. Still horny then?" "All the time now, sir." "Excellent. Now, may I enter your master's house, young man?" Alexander bowed low again and flung his arms out in a dramatic fashion. Robert strode into the foyer and took my hand. Michael remained on the porch. "I have numerous crates and boxes for you in the van. Some are rather substantial. Michael will need some help." "Alex," I said, "go with Michael. Do as he says." "Yes, master." I could see a light in the boy's eyes, happy to be close to Michael. The two young slaves were off together. "Does Alex really cum just from being fucked?" Robert asked as I led him to the living room. I nodded. "I've never seen anything quite like it. God, the sounds he was making, and the look on his face. And then it all just dribbled right out onto the bed. He just kept cumming. Every time I went into him, a little more came out. It must have gone on for ten minutes. I made him tell me how it felt, cumming without ejaculating, without even being hard, but he couldn't describe it to me." "Very hot, Steven. That boy is a prize, no doubt about it. Will you be keeping him in permanent chastity?" "That's my plan. No orgasms. Total denial. Just a good milking once in a while, and whatever pleasure he can get from being fucked." "Sounds like he gets quite a bit." "He does, but just from the fucking. Cumming that way really wrecks him. I've already told him it's the only way he's going to cum from now on. He almost cried. It was wonderful." "Very strict, Steven." "Well, I'll probably let him off the hook once in a while, but I don't want him ever having that expectation." Michael and Alex returned, lugging an enormous wooden crate between them. We called them into the living room. Once they'd put it down they were off again for more. "I thought it was just collar and cuffs tonight," I said jokingly as we sat down waiting for the boys to finish. "It is not often I get the chance to start a new master and slave off right. You honor me with your trust. I've brought a few surprises for you, to make the house a little more complete." "I'm going to turn the basement into a dungeon." His eyes lit up. "Perfect. You're father took me down there once, just after they'd bought this place. Of course I saw its potential immediately. Glad you're going to make something of it. A space like that just cannot go to waste. You will let me come play some time, won't you?" "You will always be welcome." "If you need anything, I'd be glad to help. Some of the more . . . shall we say . . . intense equipment . . . is hard to come by, but I can hook you up. If you can imagine it, it probably exists, or can be invented, for a price. Oh, by the way," he reached into his pocket, "this is for you. Some of us will be gathering at the end of the summer. I put in a word for you, and they'd like to meet you. Alex too. There will be other boys there. He will not be the youngest." My heart skipped a beat when he told me that. I knew it. Somehow I knew Alex and I weren't the only ones. It was a remarkably plain invitation, just date and time and location, and one other piece of interest that caught my eye. "Slave auction? Is this for real, Robert?" He nodded gravely. "Very much so. Rare is the slave who stays with one master for life. They are sold, at least that's the word I use, or traded, or given to another. It is never done lightly, I can assure you." "I had no idea it went this far." "It does, for those who are not merely playing. Does that disturb you?" "A little." "Good. It is the most difficult part of our lifestyle, but once a slave grows beyond his master, they both must move on. One day, I am sure, you will give Alex to another man." "I could never do that." The very thought sickened me, at first, but the logic of Robert's argument was undeniable. "Then you are being selfish. Come now. When he's twenty, will it still be the same for you? Will you still love him the way you do now? He will always be a slave, but he will not always be a boy. Will you still be able to give him what he needs, when his beard starts to grow?" "This is cruel of you, Robert," I said. "I will always love him." His eyes became gentle and sad. "Of course you will. I would never doubt that. But that is exactly why, when the time is right, you will let him go. You will find him a new master. That is your last duty to him, your final act of love." "When the time is right. Maybe it never will be." "For your sake I hope that's true. It has happened before. And Alex is special. Every life he touches will never be quite the same. I feel it already, and so does Michael." "He is special." I studied the invitation again. "Can you really trust these people?" "'These people' are me, and Michael. `These people' will be you and Alex, if you agree to attend. We are all in one another's power. Our arrangement keeps everyone fair and quite safe. We do not play games, Steven. And we do not allow just anyone to join us. These are powerful people, my friend, and power does have certain advantages." "I'm beginning to see that." Another large trunk and a smaller chest had been dragged in during our discussion, and now Alex and Michael appeared again, each with identical cedar boxes in their arms. They placed them on the coffee table and stood back with their arms behind them. Their movements were perfectly synchronized, and their stances were perfectly identical. Michael must have given Alex his marching orders before coming in. "Is that everything, Mikey?" Robert asked. "Yes, master." Robert looked at me with bright eyes. "Let's get the young man dressed, shall we?" Chapter 15: Collar and Cuffs Required. Robert first handed me several keys, more for my growing collection, that obviously went to the finely made cedar boxes. One had its corners covered in black leather, the other in metal, indicating the contents of each. Both were quite large. Michael had carried the one with the metal bindings, the weight of which was obviously quite substantial. I opened that box first. I heard Alex exclaim "Wow" under his breath. Those were my sentiments exactly. Robert had outdone himself. I just stared in silent appreciation for a moment. I could hear Alex breathing rapidly as he looked on behind me. The 'metal' box, as we would come to call it, contained first and foremost an iron collar. It was quite beautiful, smooth and burnished and plated in silver, an exquisite work of craftsmanship. What struck me most though was its small size. It was surely no more than four and one-half inches in diameter, probably less. It seemed so strange to see it so small, but of course it was made for a boy, not a man. It sat in the very center of the box, which was lined with fine black velvet. Alex knelt down to get a closer look. He gazed up at me for permission, then gently ran his fingers over the collar. "It's going to be a perfect fit, Alex," I said. "Robert made it just for you." "I thought the silver-plating suited him," Robert offered. "He'll need something that shines as brightly as he does." Alex turned to him sharply, surprised by such kind words. He gave Robert a quick bow, something that always seemed to delight the older man. Alex knew it and played it perfectly. I gave him a gentle pat on the thigh to return his attention to the contents of the box. Along with the magnificent collar, there was a pair of shackles. They were about three inches in height, and no more than that in diameter, small to suit a boy's slender ankles. A thick silver chain, a little over one foot in length, lay between them, attached to rings in the irons themselves. There was also a slightly smaller pair with a similar chain, meant for Alex' wrists. There were spreader bars of different lengths, and one that could be adjusted, all of which would replace the chains on occasion. Last there was the thickest and longest chain of all, rolled neatly and tucked into a large pouch at the bottom of the box. It was a lead for his collar. Alex looked at me with moistening eyes. "Put them on me, sir, please," he begged. "Patience, Alex. We haven't even opened the other one yet." When we did, Alex became a great deal more subdued. "You see the difference, don't you, boy?" Robert asked gently. "Metal is cold and unforgiving, certainly, but it can't be fitted to the body. Leather on the other hand . . . " The mere sight of it was arousing. For Alex it meant strict bondage from this day forward. I heard him take a deep breath. All of the leather pieces were in black, with silvery rings and buckles. I made up my mind instantly that I would keep him in this most of the time. Metal was for working out doors and nights spent in the barn, and perhaps special occasions when that silvery finish would show him off so perfectly. I took the leather collar out first. It was two inches wide, with silver studs to match those on his chastity belt. There were three rings as well, one each on the front and sides, and a buckle in the back. Alex just stared at it. "Stand up, Alex." He'd been waiting for this all day. All his life perhaps. He stood straight and still and held his breath. We both of us felt the supreme weight of this moment. I put the collar around his neck, then reached behind him to buckle it. And just like that it was done. Tears fell from his eyes, and he was not ashamed to let anyone see them. "You are now collared, young man," Robert said. "That is a great honor and a great responsibility. Your only duty now is to your master, who loves you a great deal." Alex was weeping. "I know he does, sir." "Obey him, and serve him with all of your heart and all of your soul." "I will, sir." "Don't tell me, tell your master." Alex faced me and stood as tall as he could, all five feet of him. "Master, I will obey you, and serve you, with all of my heart, and all of my soul." He put his hand over his chest when he said it. I nearly cried right there. Robert then looked at me kindly. "And you, Steven. Teach this boy and protect him with all of your compassion and all of your strength." "I will, Robert." "Don't tell me, tell your slave." I turned to my boy again. His eyes were dancing. "Alex, I will teach you and protect you, with all of my compassion, and all of my strength." He threw his arms around me and I hugged him for a moment. He was so beautiful, so strong, and so brave. And he was not yet thirteen years old. The harness came out of the box next. I held it up to him. Robert had kept it simple, and I knew it would suit my boy perfectly. Thick straps for over his shoulders and around his chest, joined at the front and back by large steel rings. The straps had smaller d-rings at various locations, allowing for a wide range of restraint. I buckled the shoulder straps first, then tightened the chest straps over his ribs. I made sure they were a little more than snug, just enough to restrict his breathing a little. That gave the boy a thrill, and he looked at me with wide eyes. "Too tight?" I asked. "No, sir," he said, testing his ability to move and breathe in the harness. "Feels real good." Next came his wrist cuffs. They were similar to the collar, studded, but with locking clasps rather than rings. The buckles were also a little bit different, for the ends of the loops were fed through a clasp designed to take a padlock. Once they were on, Alex would not be able to take them off. I put them both on, first his left wrist, then his right. The padlocks were of the same type that kept his chastity belt from coming off, and they used the same keys. I clicked them in place then took out the chain designed to go between them. "The ends of the chain will go through the clasps," Robert explained. I pushed them in and they clicked in place. "There's a quick release on them, here," he pointed out the tiny release where the clasp was riveted to the cuff. "You can reach it easily, he can't reach it at all." Robert was right. I told Alex to try and get the chain off by himself. He couldn't do it. The chain itself kept getting in his way. Only when his arms were down straight at his sides, was the clasp accessible. "You'll find the clasps will also attach to the rings on his collar and his harness." I released the chain for the moment and returned it to the box. Two more identical pieces caught my eye, and I pulled them out. "Arm restraints, Steven," Robert explained. "You will find them very useful for punishment. You strap them on just below his biceps, above his elbows." They were, by design and necessity, a lot tighter than the wrist cuffs. They dug into his skin just a bit. Again there were clasps and rings and I realized I could lock his arms down at his sides anytime I wanted to. I wanted to right now. I pressed in on his slender limbs and heard the clasps click with the rings on the chest straps of the harness. Alex found his arms instantly and completely immobilized. His eyes were wide and he was beginning to sweat. The ankle cuffs were made in the same fashion and form as those on his wrists, again with small locks to ensure he could not remove them. I knelt down and put them on. After I'd secured the cuffs in place, I took a moment to rub my hands up and down Alexander's legs. Smooth and hairless and firm, tanned golden brown by the summer sun. My perfect boy. "OK so far?" A joyous little hum and his young voice answered me. "I'm always ok with you." Robert himself presented the next item to me. Thigh cuffs. Ideal for binding his legs together, or immobilizing him in his bed. They accentuated his shapely young legs. Alex looked incredibly sexy in them. Last from the box was the gag. It was a rubber ball, dark red in color, with slender straps for his head. For the first time I saw a little fear in Alexander's young eyes, the sudden overwhelming awareness that his bondage was total and that he could not free himself had begun to have its effect. He was trembling, and struggling just a bit to move to his arms. "Open your mouth. Wider." I put the ball into his mouth slowly. In the weeks and months and years that lay ahead for us, gagging him would become a swift and harsh daily ritual. Our first act, before anything else. But not today, not this very first time. It came last, the boy's final and most difficult sacrifice. Over the last three days, Alex had willingly surrendered every part of his body to me, except his voice. Now he was going to give that to me as well, freely. The boy's gift of himself touched me in a way I had not expected. Tears began to fall, and I could tell by the look in his eyes that he needed me to be gentle, and I was. "Bite down, Alex." He did. I reached around behind his head and buckled the strap, pulling the gag tight and forcing the ball a little deeper into his mouth. His sweet innocent eyes filled with panic for just a moment. "Breathe through your nose, sweetie," I whispered, tenderly rubbing his arms bound helpless to his sides. He calmed down right away. "Better?" Alex nodded, and blinked once. I was impressed that he remembered. And so it was done. I stood back, amazed at Alex' transformation, but also by the feeling that this was so right, so perfect, so true, something that fit and suited him so well. His muscular twelve-year-old body was tightly harnessed and restrained. His slender neck was collared. His cock and balls were encased in metallic chastity and forever out of his reach. His sweet young face, with those endearing freckles on his nose, and those wondrous hazel eyes, was in no way diminished by the ball-gag that filled his mouth. "I love you, Alex," I said as I opened clasps on his armbands and freed him from his first taste of strict restraint. My gagged boy couldn't answer, but the look in his eyes spoke immense volumes and his arms quickly found their way around my waist. Another box, similar to the first pair, still awaited our attention. Robert instructed Michael to open this one, and saw that the experienced master's planning had been quite meticulous. Everything I would need for Alex was here. They were, all of them, instruments of pain. With his perpetually dark sense of humor, Alex would take to calling it his 'Treasure Chest of Torture' in the coming weeks. There was, of course, a whip, long and slender. I said a quiet prayer of thanks that Robert hadn't included that thick and frightening monster I'd seen hanging on the wall of his supply room. Alex was years away from being ready for that kind of thing. Along with the whip came a modest collection of its smaller cousins. I would need more as the months and years went by, but this was an excellent start. There was the mandatory cat-o-nine-tails, each of its slender ends tightly knotted. The handle was wrapped in brown leather. I took it from the box and swished it playfully around Alex' thighs a few times. Not enough to even make it snap, just a gentle brushing. He would feel its bite soon enough. The rest of my inventory of discipline: A leather strap, two feet long and three inches wide. A rectangular wooden paddle with holes drilled upon its surface. Robert had burned the name 'Alex' at the base of the handle. A small tawse, clearly meant for chastising the penis and testicles. There was also a slender cane, which Robert instructed me not to use until he taught me the proper technique. "The cane can scar for life, Steven," he said darkly. In spite or because of Robert's chilling words, Alex was drawn to it like a moth to the flame. I held it out to him and laid it across his outstretched hands. The boy could not take his eyes of it. So simple, so plain, so quietly elegant and symbolic of pain and suffering. "It has teeth you cannot see," Robert explained. "Careful, boy. Don't let it bite you." Alex returned it to me with a look of trepidation in his eyes. He genuinely feared this slender rod, more than anything else in the box. After the cane came other fun accessories. A trio of dildoes, in small, medium and extremely large. Two sets of clamps with adjoining chains. A series of simple cock rings in various sizes, a leather ball spreader, a tiny mallet for beating the testicles, and finally a leather blindfold. Clearly Robert expected Alex and me to be quite busy. We would not be disappointing him. He was like an impish schoolboy when it at last came time to open the two large crates that currently dominated our living room. I was about to send Alex out to get a crowbar, but Michael quietly produced one, seemingly out of nowhere. He smiled at us all softly. "A resourceful slave is a credit to his master," Robert chuckled. "What would I do without you, Michael?" The handsome young slave was wise enough to let that question go unanswered. With his master's permission, he pried open both of the crates. The first, and largest, contained a wooden contraption of some sort, the planks all disassembled and packaged with Robert's obsessive precision. I was not prepared to guess what it was, but I knew that by the end of the evening it would be residing in my living room. The second carton contained a wooden bench, about three feet long and two feet high. Michael gestured to Alex with two fingers, and together the young slaves lifted it from the crate. Freed of its packaging I could better appreciate it. It was oak, stained a dark brown. Both ends were padded. It had six legs altogether, one on each corner naturally, and two in the very center for added strength. The legs at the ends had rings at various heights. Three leather straps hung from the right side of the bench. The first and widest, at the very center, was almost six inches. The other two were at each end. "I built these for Michael," Robert said, gesturing to the crates, "when I first began training him. He has outgrown them. I wondered if I'd ever find a use for them again." "Then let's put it to good use right now. I still haven't punished him for his misbehavior on the phone with you today." Robert turned sharply and glared at Alex in mock anger. "Indeed? I saw his little red behind when I came in. I assumed you'd take care of that already." "No. That was left over from this morning, wasn't it, kiddo?" The boy's face blushed until it was as red as his well- punished rear. Silenced by the gag he nodded slowly. "On the bench then, dear boy," Robert sang. "On your back, please, Alex," I added. The boy lay down and stretched himself out. The bench was only a foot wide, so his limbs naturally fell off on either side. I bound his wrist cuffs to the rings on the front legs of the bench. This pulled his arms down sharply. I could see the slight strain in his muscles and his shoulders, but I wasn't worried. I knew Alex liked things tight and stretchy. His ankles were locked down next. The bench was low enough that the balls of his feet just touched the floor as I clasped his ankle cuffs to the rings on the hind legs of the bench. Robert meanwhile was kind enough to pull the waist strap over Alex' stomach and tighten it down on the other side. "Comfy?" I asked. Alex made a soft purring sound and nodded vigorously that he was. As always, he tested his bondage with a few sharp jerks. I patted him on the thigh. "Don't go anywhere," I said. He rolled his eyes in classic adolescent fashion. I returned to our 'torture' box and selected the less evil looking of the clamps, the leather strap, and the penis whip. Robert seemed pleased with my choices, if perhaps a little surprised. I think a small part of him believed I didn't have the stomach for this. I was pretty sure Alex thought so too, and Alex needed to be taught a lesson. "What do you have in mind, Steven?" my mentor asked softly as I handed Michael the instruments of the boy's punishment. I kept the clamps in my hands and gazed down at Alex, his slender hairless body stretched and restrained on the bench. His eyes were wild and hungry. "I think it's time Alex started learning about pain, don't you?" The older man's bearded lips curled in a smile that was neither sweet nor gentle, one that was burned forever in my own brain. That was the face I had seen all those years ago, when he quite literally whipped the drugs out of me. He nodded slowly and we began. I pried open the clamps. I could feel by the resistance that they would be quite intense. I wet my finger and rubbed Alex' right nipple. His young eyes were fixed on me, watching every move with rabid attention. Once his little nub was hard, I put the clamp on, releasing it gently, allowing the pressure and the pain to build. Alex shouted into his gag. I wet my finger and rubbed Alex' left nipple. His young eyes were fixed on me, watching every move with rabid attention. Once his little nub was hard, I put the clamp on, this time letting go quickly, allowing it to squeeze its tiny target with relentless force. Another anguished cry, muffled by the rubber ball in his mouth. Alex thrashed his head around on the padded rest. "Michael," I said, gazing up at the handsome young man. "Would you please hold his head?" Michael received a tacit nod from his master and immediately knelt at the front of the bench. He took my sweet boy's head gently between his hands and stared down into Alexander's eyes. I heard him whisper something, soft and kind and comforting it sounded, and Alex lay still again. He was breathing rapidly through his nose, trying to process this new sensation. Distracted by the clamps, as I was sure he would be, he did not even seem to notice when I unbuckled the seed pod from his leather jockstrap. Hanging loose for only the second time since it was put on, the weight of it pulled his genitals down a bit. I took the ring from my pocket that held all of the boy's keys and opened the padlock. The hex wrench was next. I turned it slowly in the bolt. I had his attention again now. A moment later the pod was open. Inside, his balls were red and swollen, desperate to release his immature seed. His cock lay over them, held down by the leather straps, its purplish head just peeking out from the foreskin. Everything was wet and gooey with the boy's pre-cum. I released the straps and worked quickly, pushing his four inches back through the opening in the pod before it could get hard. His plump nearly thirteen-year-old balls were pushed through. For the first time in three days his boyhood was free to do its thing. He erected immediately, six full inches standing above his smooth hairless groin. His foreskin fell back without being coaxed. Alex has a beautiful crown, perfectly shaped. I'd never seen Alex so hard or so thick. This was a man's penis, attached to the body of a boy. It was dark red and glistening and eager for attention. Attention it would receive. "Michael, the whip, please." Without hesitation, the young slave picked it up and handed it to me. I will never forget the look on Alexander's face. His cock was free. It was his first erection in three days. He stared at it in wonder. Clearly he'd never seen it quite so big either. The pain of the clamps and seventy-two hours of total denial had conspired to make him a horny little animal. His eyes got that faraway misty look I've since come to know and love over the years. "Alex," I said, my voice was soft. "Look at me." He turned his eyes in my direction and forced himself to concentrate. "You are being punished for your disrespect to Master Robert. I am going to whip your penis. You will not cum." Robert stopped me before I could begin. "May I take his gag off?" he asked. "I would like to hear the boy scream." "By all means." With tender compassion, Robert bent over and gently removed Alex' gag. A stream of spittle came out with it. "There boy," he said, patting the kid's shaven head, "wiggle your jaw around a bit. Better?" "Yes, sir, aaahhh." The clamps were a constant re- enforcement of my discipline. "Alex, tell us your safeword," I said. "Butterfly," the boy replied, squirming in his bonds. "We've all heard it now. Use it if you need to. There is no shame here. Only discipline." "I . . . I understand, sir." I brought the tiny whip back then snapped it against his cock. "Oooww!" Another, a little harder this time. "Aaawwww." Michael again held the younger boy's head as Alex thrashed around on the bench. I snapped the whip three times in sharp succession. A long high-pitched moan issued from Alexander's throat. He was panting now, wiggling his hips. His cock was oozing fluid from his prostate in an endless stream. Another lash. This one kissed his glans. "Awww gawd, fuck, fuck, fuck!" I could see his muscles tensing up. "I'm going to cum, sir!" he said hysterically. "No you are not," I told him. I stopped and returned the whip to Michael, leaving Alex hard and dripping wet, as close to orgasm as he had ever been, but unable to climax. With his arms bound helplessly to the legs of the bench, the boy threw his head back in frustration and bounced it several times against the padding. While Alex was enduring the paroxysms of another denied orgasm, I released his legs and bound them together with the locking clasps on the ankle cuffs. Then I raised them until his feet were above his head, folding the boy neatly in half, exposing his cute rear end. Michael obligingly held his ankles. One hand was all he needed, the other rested gently on Alex' forehead. I picked up the leather strap and gave it a good swish in the empty air to practice. My target was defenseless and still pink from its morning session. In his current position, Alex' balls hung down below the spot where his thighs were pressed together by the cuffs. His cock, undoubtedly, was still pointing toward his chin, hidden from my view by his legs. I took a moment and rolled his nuts between my fingers. He moaned plaintively and begged me to bring him off. I encircled his balls with my right hand and pulled them up and out of my way. With my left I brought the strap down across his buttocks. It made a loud smack as it crashed against his tender boyflesh. "Start counting, sweetie," I said. Alex always needed to be reminded. What is it the British say? Six of the best? Well, my questionable knowledge of English boarding schools aside, that's what he got. He screamed so beautifully.