THE TIES THAT BIND
By Waddie Greywolf

Chapter 3 ~ Seven Days

Part I ~ Leaving Mt. Washington

Confutatis Maladictus ~ (horrible confusion) ~ Requiem Mass

Master Jeb released me from my bond.  He put his big arms around me and held me tight for a moment.  He looked into my eyes to see if my lights were on and spoke, “You got a lot to think about, Son.  I won’t add anything further to your confusion, but I must congratulate you.  You passed every test we gave you.  I’m damn proud of you, Son,” he said.  Master Jeb held me in his arms, hugged, and gently kissed me on the cheek.

‘Now, why did he have to say that?’ I thought, 'No one’s ever told me they were proud of me for anything except him and, damn it, I want to believe him.  I’d like nothing better than to think of him as my dad, and my dad just told me he was proud of me.’

“Thank you, Master Jeb.  I appreciate you trying to help me, sir,” I replied.

“You don’t have to call me ‘master’ now, Son, I’ve released you from our agreement,” he reminded me.

“I know, Master Jeb,” I said without nuance and looking at my boots.  Jeb smiled to himself and shook his head.
              
“C’moan, boy, I’ll walk you out,” Big Jim said, putting his hand on my butt to escort me in the direction of the door.  We walked out to the driveway where my bike was parked.  I was going to get on and go.  I didn’t want to say anything that might compromise the big man’s resolve.  I stuck the key in, turned the gas petcock on, put my boot on the crank getting ready to kick my bike, and felt a massive hand grab me on my shoulder and spin me around.  “Cut that out, boy.  Don't shut me out like that.  To ignore a man what shared a part of himself with you is tantamount to cutting his balls off.  That ain't the real you.

"You ain't like that.  You ain't no Hollywood queen.  You're a lost soul, a slave looking for a master, but under the circumstances, whether I want to or not, I just ain't gonna' be able to fill them boots for you.  You're also a strong minded, willful young man what needs to be broken properly by a master with an iron fist wearing a velvet glove.  You will never be broken by force, but you can be taught and led to serve another man through conditioning, strength, patience, and love.  Suck it up, kid.  Get over it.  Now, get off that damn bike for a minute,” Big Jim growled at me.
 
I didn’t have to obey the giant.  I wasn’t under Master Jeb’s agreement, but something told me I better.  I set my bike on its kick stand, threw my leg back and over, and stood in front of the giant looking down at his boots.  I couldn't look him in the face.  My spirit was crushed.  He grabbed me pretty rough and pulled me to him.  “Don’t play games with a master, Son, he’ll win every time.  He holds all the cards.  I know deep in your wounded heart, after what we done shared, you wanna' kiss me goodbye.  Well, I got a news flash for ya,' young’un, your giant wants to kiss you, too.  Eat you pride, boy.  Swallow your gall.  Choke it down, Son, but be gracious, and give your master what he asks of you," he demanded.

Was this a test?  Rip my heart out and then demand my affection?  How sick was that?  I slowly put my arms around him.  He reached down to feel the big plug in my ass, took his fingers and pushed on it to make sure it was secure.  He instructed me to push back, and I obeyed.  He continued to hold me, but I wouldn’t look up at him.  I though if I did he would surely know how bad I was hurting inside.  He gently placed his big paw under my chin and slowly raised my head to his waiting mouth.  He kissed me gently as he cupped the back of my head with his enormous hand almost to insure I didn’t pull away from him.  Why was he doing this?  He already laid the law down to me, and I was trying to get away with some shred of dignity.  What sick game was he playing?  This wasn’t S&M.  This was almost cruel.   Almost... except for his kiss.  It was an instant erection for old swinger in his cage.  It was the most bittersweet moment of my life.  Heavy on the bitter.  Was he trying to break my heart?  I knew I had to get out of there and fast, or I was going to lose it.

I had an enormous lump in my throat.  I kept trying to swallow, but it was lodged there and wouldn’t go away.  Was this the pride or the gall of which he spoke?  How could I swallow both at once without emotionally choking to death?  I thanked him again for the afternoon, but added I was tired and really must get home.  I got back on my bike.  I felt heat rising in my body as I began to get angry.  Goddamn him, I went through hell and back in Nam, and I ain't afraid to stand up to the big bastard even if he does make three of me.  The situation as I saw it was like a one sided blow job, and I was the fool on his knees.  I cranked my bike to start it, and it fired into action.  He walked in front and looked at me with the most forlorn look.  I saw the sadness in his eyes like a giant bear with a huge thorn in his paw.  I could never turn away from an animal in pain.  I melted and forgot anything mean-spirited or clever I was going to say. “Will you answer a question for me, Master?” I asked quietly.  He stepped to my side to hear me better over the noise of the engine.

“If I can, boy,” he replied.       

“It ain’t complicated,” I said, “it’s a simple yes or no question.  Think you can you handle it?” I asked.

“Don’t be disrespectful, boy.  H'it ain't in yore' nature.  Remember your manners,"  he metaphorically slammed me to the mat and pinned me.

“You're right, I had manners beat into me as a kid, but I’m from the South, Master, where I was also taught respect is a two-way street,” I countered.

"What’s your question, boy?" he asked with irritation, brushing aside my answer as not worthy of a response.

“Do you believe in love at first sight?” I no sooner got the words out when the lump in my throat prompted one stupid, mother-humping tear to roll down my cheek.  I was exposed.  A deer in the headlights.  I might as well been standing in front of him naked.

“I don’t believe in love anymore,” he answered gruffly as he looked away into the distance.  He slowly returned his gaze to me hoping I wasn’t looking at him, but I was.  I saw the flash in his eyes, and he quickly averted my gaze.  He lied to me.  He also knew I saw it.  He knew there was no doubt in my mind, I caught him in a lie.  If that wasn’t bad enough, he began to blush bright red.  I looked away from him trying to regain some modicum of composure.  I studied the handle bars on my bike trying to think of something profound to say, but I was in too much pain to think cleverly.  I knew it was time for Br'er Rabbit to run away.  I just wanted to find the nearest rabbit hole, pop down it, and pull it in after me.  I didn’t plan to say what I did next, but I think sometimes an angel or the ancients themselves puts words in our mouths.

“You’re right, Jim.  I'm convinced.  Ain’t no doubt in my mind.  You win.  I’ll admit, you hold all the cards—all but one.  You better check your deck, honcho.  You’re only hold’n fifty-one cards.  That bald face lie you just done told me cost you your jack of hearts.  Give my cock and balls up for a man like you?  Naw, I don’t think so.  You didn’t do s'damn good with my heart.  Why would I trust you with the rest?” I asked.  With that I gunned my bike, slammed it into gear with my boot, and was off down the street.  I didn’t bother to wave or look back.

Big Jim stood for a moment, stunned, his mouth open, a half smile on his face like he’d been cut down a notch, watching an angry young man, a hurt young man, who wanted nothing more than to love and serve him, disappear down the hill into the night.  He felt like a giant asshole.  Why did he treat the kid that way?  He prided himself on being good to all people, and here he was being Mr. Hard-nose bad-ass biker master.  ‘You never could tell a lie and get away with it.  You fuck’n light up like gum-ball machine on a patrol car, and everyone knows you’re lying.’  he thought to himself.  'That kid is no exception.  He’s the last one you should be lying to.  He ain’t no dummy.  His head is up in lights.  His brain has a direct line to his heart, and his heart to his cock and butthole.  You deserved what you got.  Hell, he was just trying to protect himself.  He wasn’t the least bit intimidated by you or your size.  He saw a killer shot and went directly for your heart.  You made a stupid move, and he nailed your big dumb ass to the barn door,' he chastised himself.

'Maybe it’s for the best.  If the kid decides not to enter training, then I don’t have to mask my true feelings for him.  Or worse, have my best friend become angry with me if he suspects I got a major crush on the kid.  Jeb’s not a man you want to anger or go back on your word to him.  Damn, I ain’t felt this bad since Scout died.  Could I really have walked into that room, seen the boy with a belly full of piss and fallen in love with him?  Naw, it just don’t happen.

‘Who you trying to kid?  You fell in love with Scout the minute he got out from under that truck.  You knew you didn’t want to live another day without him by your side.  Then why did you give Beau the bit about looking you up?  Were you trying to impress him with your magnanimity just to get into his ass?  No, no, damn it, I could a’ had that anyway.  There was something about him I wanted; something I needed.

‘Well, you better give it up asshole.  You alienated the kid.  You lied to him, and he knew it.  He caught you in a bald face lie, and you can’t handle it.  The kid rode off with a major chunk of you heart in his back pocket.  You could lose your best friend if you don’t get it together,’ he thought to himself.  He shook his head and laughed.  ‘The little fucker nailed me to the wall.  I like that in him.  Hell, I like me in him.  No, I love me in him.  Jeb’s right, he’ll be a hard one to break, but when someone does, Sweet Jesus, Mary, Joseph, what a slave he will make,’ the giant thought and chuckled to himself, ‘The scamp done cut my legs off at the knees without raising his voice.  Well done, boy,’ Big Jim thought to himself,  ‘Butch bottom my ass.  He’s more like a Goddamn bulldog.  Bulldog Butch.  Humm.  He stood up to me and killed the giant without firing a shot.  Bulldog Butch, the giant killer,’ he thought as he slowly walked into the house.  He laughed again to himself.

‘Be honest with yourself, old man, he killed you the first time you laid eyes on him, and he continued killing you with his need and hunger for you.  He couldn’t drink your ugliness in fast enough.  You old romantic son of a bitch, you know you would’ve claimed him for your slave right then and there if things were different.  Go on admit it to yourself.  Be as big as your body for once in your sorry life.  You told him you may never find what you had with Scout again.  You knew it was a Goddamn lie the minute it came out of your mouth.  You were holding an equal or possibly greater treasure in your arms.  I guess the old bard on the Avon was right, us mortals weave a lot of webs only to deceive ourselves.  Well, what the hell are you gonna’ do about it you giant asshole?  What you usually do?  Nothing?  Hoping it will take care of itself?  It will just resolve itself and go away?’

The huge man lumbered into the house, his shoulders slumped over the way he did when he was a kid; embarrassed about his size and height.  He walked into the kitchen, grabbed a beer from the fridge and returned into a small sitting room Jeb used as a communal gathering/T.V. room off the main living room.  It had the best view in the house.  It looked out across the lights of downtown Los Angeles.  He set down in an overstuffed chair and began to drink his beer.

Jeb came in to look for him.  “You in here, Jim?” Jeb asked.

“Yeah, Jeb, I’m here,” he replied.

“Why you sitting in the dark?” Jeb asked.

“Enjoying the view and the lights.  Calms my spirit,” Jim replied.

“Yeah, it is kinda peaceful, ain’t it?  Mind if I join ya’?” Jeb asked as he popped open his beer.

“‘Course not, Jeb, sit down. Take a load off,” Jim said.

The two men sat in silence for a while drinking their beer.  “Well?” Jeb asked.

“He’s a good kid,” Big Jim said with conviction, “He’s definitely angry ‘bout some'um.  S’got some bug up his butt, all bottled up inside him, but he has a big heart and great deal of untapped love to share with some lucky master.  You amaze me, bro, how you can size ‘em up so quickly.  He’s a butch bottom all right.  No doubt about it.  He gives the term new dimensions.  He weren’t intimidated by me for a minute.  My size didn’t strike the least bit of fear in him.  He took one look at me and knew where I lived, not only my address, but the damn zip code as well,” Jim said.

Jeb laughed at Big Jim’s appraisal. “Yeah, he’s a bit of a puzzle,” Jeb sighed deeply, “If he agrees to training, he’ll be my last.”

“Get out ‘a here, bro — you don’t mean it,” Jim said.

“I do mean it, Jim.  I’m getting too damn old to stay three jumps ahead of these young bucks who wanna’ be turned into useful slave-boys overnight,” Jeb said with a sigh.

“Then why him?” Jim asked almost knowing what the answer would be.

“He’s rare.  How many slaves can you think of you could really call a natural?  I can count ‘em on one hand.  Remember, you had a hell of a time breaking Scout and training him to become the slave you wanted?” Jeb asked.

“Let’s don’t talk about Scout, Bro,” Big Jim bristled.

“I’m sorry, Jim, but you know the point I’m making,” Jeb said.

“Yeah, I know.  I guess there’s only three slaves I can think of as natural-born.  ‘At would be Billy, Titus, and Oscar; oh, yeah, and maybe, Griz, Cowboy and Wes.” Jim said thoughtfully, "‘Course, Wes is done gone now serving the Big Master up yonder aways."

“I agree.  Those are the only five I can think of--- six including Wes--- out of maybe a couple hundred slaves we know,” Jeb said.
                                                 
“Do you think he’ll go for it?” Big Jim asked quietly.

“It’s hard to tell with him.  He’s been through a hell of a lot.  He don’t talk much about his service days, but I get the idea it was rough on him.  All that anger, frustration, and disappointment masks his true feelings.  It was a plus sign when he continued to call me master after I released him, but I just don’t know.  All the others I could read like a dime store novel, but him... there’s just some’um different about him I can’t put my finger on.  You know what I mean?” Jeb asked.

“Oops, I know that look,” Big Jim said and smiled.

“Don’t be silly.  He’s another would be slave, but granted, one of the most exciting prospects I've run across in a long while.  There’s things I know about him I ain’t shared with you which may make him the greatest slave prospect of my career as a slave trainer.  He well may be my masterpiece,” Jeb chuckled, then added, “Pun intended.”  The two men laughed.

“Well, bro, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.  Ain't no doubt in my mind he’ll say yes,"  Big Jim said stretching out his long legs and crossed his boots.

“How’s that?” Jeb asked.

“His eyes told me more'n his mouth did, and his body...?  Sweet Jesus, I played him like a cheap fiddle, and he resonated from deep inside like a fine violin.  Any master worth his salt could play any tune he wanted on him, and it would be a masterpiece.  They threw away the mold when they made him.  He could make a master three feet tall feel like a damn giant,” Big Jim said.

“Yeah, I felt that, too, Jim,” Jeb said quietly.  The two men sat in silence for a few minutes.  Jeb got up and headed out of the room.  “The kid wore me out, I’m going to bed.  Good night, Jim,” Jeb said.

“Good night, bro — mind if I make a phone call?” Jim asked.

“Naw, go ahead, use my desk,” Jeb replied and left to go to bed.

Big Jim moved to Jeb’s big desk and turned on the banker’s light.  Beau’s folder was sitting on top of the desk.  Big Jim picked up the phone and dialed 411.  “Yes, operator, could you give me the number for Western Union?” he asked.                          


Part II ~ All The Way Home

It ain’t easy riding a vibrating BSA with your cock in a cage and a huge plug up your butt.  From Mt. Washington to Silverlake is about eight miles as the crow flies.  I didn’t give a shit— couldn’t anyway, my ass was plugged.  I was so damn hurt and angry at the big son of a bitch, I paid no attention to the discomfort; until, the drive around the lake.  Even at seventy miles per hour, on the back of a British bike, on a cold spring night in Los Angeles, around the lake in the Silverlake district, with a plug up your butt can seem like an eternity in slow motion.  To make matters worse, wouldn’t you know, it was just my fucking luck, the damn thing was making me horny again.  Ben-the-dick-arnold was growing in his cage and getting tight, really tight.  I could swear the damn cage was modeled on my cock and balls.  It was that snug and getting snugger by the minute.  I had to give the giant bastard credit, the big plug served its intended purpose well.  It didn’t allow a drop to leak from my butt.

I arrived at the turn for my street, but decided to take the back route to my place over Descanso Drive.  The trees uprooted the street to make it uneven and bumpy.  In a car you have to go really slow or it will bounce you so bad your head will hit the roof of the car.  I flew over it with my bike which gave my ass such a good hard fucking I felt like I was being fucked by the giant again.  I guess, in a way, I was.  The piss in my belly was sloshing around, the piss and come in my ass was going crazy, and the plug was far enough inside my ass to thoroughly massage my prostate.  Before I knew what was happening I shot so hard in my jeans I thought I was going down with the bike.  Instead, I pulled over with the motor still running, leaned across the handle bars, and gunned the engine as I shot once, and again, and shot once more.

I lay there for a minute over my handle bars, drained, with my gizz running down both legs, thinking to myself, ‘Showed that sorry ass son of a bitch.  I don’t need my hand to get off, and by the way, you giant asshole, thanks for the plug, it came in mighty handy.’  I threw my head back and laughed harder than I ever laughed at anything or anybody in my life.  It was catharsis, epiphany, and climax, the three relief sisters, all rolled into one.  I was over it, I let go, just like I did all those times in Nam.  Someone would tell me, 'Don’t bottle it up.  Let it go,' and I obeyed.  I was empty then, and I’m empty now, but at that moment it seemed easier to live on empty than to live with the pain of rejection.

I pulled into my garage still laughing at myself with my jeans full of come running down my legs.  I was a living testament to the old saying, 'Where there’s a will there’s a way.'  Now, this week if I want to get off all I have to do is shove Master Jim's big plug up my butt and head for Descanso Drive.  Voila, instant fucking.  Except next time I think I’ll wear a sanitary napkin.  I laughed again as I walked into my apartment.  I made myself a drink, fed puss, and headed for the bathroom.  I barely got on the toilet and removed Big Jim's plug before the bottom fell out.  He was right, it wasn't easy removing the plug.  It was tight, but I managed.

Afterwards, I got into the shower to clean myself and hosed out my ass.  I decided to hell with Big Jim's orders, I wasn't going to wear the damn plug all the time.  I was convinced he was a crazy man, and crazier still to think after the way he blatantly rejected me and downright lied to me I'd follow his stupid order.  Cut my cock and balls off?  Yeah, right.  Fat chance of that happening.  I no sooner got out of the shower, toweled myself dry when the door bell rang.  Damn it.  I didn’t know where my robe was.  Maybe it’s my neighbor, he’s used to my strange ways.  I wrapped my towel around my waist and headed  for the door.  It was the Western Union man, and he wanted me to sign for the damn thing.

I took the clip board from him and no sooner signed my name when my towel dropped from my waist.  His jaw dropped open like a dirt shovel, and I looked down to see my erect cock in its cage.  What could I do?  I just smiled sweetly, “I broke my dick about two weeks ago in a construction accident, and this is a new medical procedure to straightened it,” I said.  He shook his head, grinned knowingly, and left.  He didn’t believe me for a minute.  I roared with laughter again at the absurdity of it all.  

A telegram?  Oh, shit.  You never get a telegram unless somebody in the family died.  Oh, God, who?  Dad, Gladys, Turner?  I tore it open with shaking hands and read:  To: Bull Dog Butch the giant killer. (Stop)  The answer is yes, I do believe. (Stop) You’re right, I lied to you. (Stop) I’m sorry. (Stop) You are hereby ordered to forgive this giant A-hole. (Stop) Do it now, Son. (Stop) Don’t hold onto it. (Stop)Love Jim.  I fell across the bed and cried until I could cry no more.  Confused, happy, excited, the most alive I’d felt in years; yet, there was an empty feeling in my gut I thought would break me into.  It hurt so damn bad I found myself curling up into a fetal position.

As I lay there, it occurred to me the empty feeling was because I didn't have that fricking plug in my butt any more.  I laughed at myself, but couldn't shake the sadness; the feeling of great loss.  It was like, somehow, without the plug in my butt I didn’t belong anymore.  I walked outside my circle of security.  When it was planted securely up my ass I had a connection to Master Jim.  I didn’t have him physically, but I still had his control looming over me, surrounding me.  Why was my conscience doing this to me?  Perhaps, I was just experiencing post-partum depression, I told myself.  Our minds create strange universes, I thought.

'Fuck it, it’s Friday night.  Think I’ll go out to the bars.  Why on Earth would you wanna' go out to the bars tonight, you asshole.  You been fucked royally three times today, and came twice?  What more do you want?  Not to sit home, alone!' My mind yelled at me.  I laid out my leathers to wear to the bar.  I put everything on and was surprised to find they fit over the cage just fine.  In fact, it made my crotch bulge a little bigger.  That was a plus when I was going trolling. (pun intended)

I looked around the apartment to see if I forgot anything and it hit me again— hard in the gut— it was several hours since something large was shoved up my ass, and I felt empty and lonely.  There was a hole in the pit of my gut I can’t describe.  This must be what Master Jeb talked about.  Could imprinting happen so fast?  For all my anger at Big Jim, all my hurt, anger, frustration and disappointment, all I knew was I wouldn’t get out of the apartment without his plug up my butt.  Angrily I threw off my leathers— angry at his control over me; angrier still, at me for allowing myself to be manipulated by him.  The line between control and manipulation is a thin one.  Control can be good.  When it’s not good it becomes manipulation.

It really pissed me off.  Big Jim was neither aware nor could appreciate what he created in me, or was he?  Was Master Jeb right?  Did I really crave their control so much to have my conscience translate my guilt from not obeying Big Jim into physical pain?  I didn't know, but I knew I couldn't leave my apartment without his plug.  I cleaned the beast, greased it up, moved the leather strap and ring out of the way, inserted it in my ass, and moved the ring back to lock it into place.  Okay, do I have to say it?  Laugh if you will, but I once again felt complete.  My gut stopped hurting immediately and my butthole was a happy camper.  I put my leathers back on and headed to the garage to get my bike.

I arrived at the bar, and Jerry, the door boy, let me in.  “You put on a little weight?” he asked.

I laughed and smiled at him.  “I wish,” I replied.

I bought a beer and stood in my usual spot to watch— and that’s what I did all evening— watch.  Not a soul walked up to me to say a word.  Not even people I knew, but the more beer I drank, the less I cared, and the better Master Jim’s plug felt.  It was as if the big son of a bitch’s huge hand reached all the way from Mt. Washington to the bar and was fucking my ass.  Why was I here?  Descanso Drive was calling me.  I rode the bike home slowly and decided not to do Descanso.  I put my bike in the garage and went into my apartment.  I fell across the bed and re-read Master Jim’s telegram.  I put it inside my leather jacket near my heart and fell into a deep sleep.

Saturday morning found me in my leathers, ass plugged, cock caged with a roaring boner.  What was I going to do?  I couldn’t keep driving over Descanso.  What would the neighbors say?  I laughed at my fantasy.  ‘Okay,’  I told myself, ‘it’s time you made some commitments not only to others but to yourself.  So Big Jim lied to you.  The man cared enough about you to put this damn cage on you to teach you a little control.  Why work at defeating him?  You already proved you could.  Swallow your pride and allow him to control your life for a week.  See if you can handle it.  It will be a damn good test of your interest one way or the other.  Despite his lousy attitude pretend he’s your master.  It’s only for a week.  He did send a telegram sort of half-ass apologizing.  He did add ‘love’ at the end, but he didn’t say he was going to change his resolve not to interfere.

While you might forgive him, you ain't no further along than you were in his driveway last night.  Well shit, if you can't handle it, just go back Friday and tell them to get this damned cage off you.  Tell them to kiss your ass and go to hell.  If he don’t want me then I don’t want him.  Who are you trying to kid?  You want that big ugly man in the worst way.  Okay, okay, I flipped for him big time, but it’s just infatuation, a school boy crush.  After all, do you really want to give up your cock and balls for him?  What are you willing to pay for what you want?  Oh, hell, it’s going to be a long week, a hellish week; seven days of pure hell.'  On the other hand, just think how you reacted after only two hours without his plug up you butt.

Sunday I hung around the apartment and didn’t do much.  I watched T.V.  and talked with my bike buddy, Griff.  He called to ask if I wanted to ride with him to Badger Flats this year.  He told me he had a new young, good looking boy he was fucking, a really butch little mother fucker, who liked to wear women’s lingerie to get fucked.  I asked him if that was a turnoff and he said, “No, I don’t’ care what he wears to bed, he’s still gonna’ get  fucked.”  I just laughed and told him, 'yes,' I would go, not thinking about the future.  Did I want to go riding this afternoon?  No, I was going to rest up for the week ahead.


Part III ~ Big Daddy Jake

“This is the night, when the heavens are bright, and they call it, bella notte.”  From Disney’s Lady and The Tramp

Monday, I breezed through work with no problem.  My supervisor at work, Sam Jenkins, stopped me.  “Some’um’s different about you today, Beau.  You’re walking with a spring in your step,” he said,  He put his arm around me as we walked and leaned in close, “C’moan, kid, you can tell old Sam.  You either fell in love over the weekend or you got a plug up your butt,” he said.  Sam never said anything personal to me during the three years I worked for him at the shop.  I was shocked but laughed at his statement.  Then I wondered if he could tell.  How would he know about a plug in a man’s butt?  I wasn’t about to admit it nor was I about to ask how he knew.

“Naw, sir,” I smiled when I got myself together, "but, I’ll tell ya’ what, Sam, at this point in my life either one don’t sound too damn shabby,” I replied.  We laughed together.

“Well, some'um’s different about you.  Your ass is shaped a little different.  It seems to be rounder and perkier.  You got a glow about you I ain't never seen before, but you know what, Son?  It looks good on you.  Whatever it is, I’m happy for you,” he said.  He walked away chuckling to himself.

‘If you only knew, Sam,’ I thought to myself.  Then I thought, ‘What the hell is he doing checking out my ass?’  I laughed and shook my head.  

I wondered about Sam.  He was big and somewhat attractive in a ruggedly handsome way.  It was obvious he took good care of his body.  I like him from the first time I met him.  He always wore cowboy boots.  Someone said when he was younger he rode the rodeo circuit and was a champion saddle bronc rider.  I tried to imagine him breaking me to his saddle wearing a big ole pair of cowboy boots, spurs and chaps, a big wide brimmed hat waving it about as he hollered to the cowboy minding the gate,  'Cowboy up!  Let ‘em buck!'  I’d make damn sure he stayed in my saddle until the eight second buzzer sounded, then I’d tame down right nice and give that old scarred cowboy the ride of his life.  Whee dogies!  Come shot fantasy number nine.  My penis was trying to get out of its cage again.  “Bad cock, bad!” I chastised it.
   
Tuesday and Wednesday passed with a full work schedule at the garage.  I worked hard, and got in some overtime.  I wore Big Jim’s plug around the clock for five days.  The ring strapped it in so tight I didn’t have to worry about losing it.  It began to feel like a part of me.  I felt empty without it.  It was kind of like a baby’s pacifier.  A slave needs a pacifier in his hole to satisfy his butt sucking urges until his master gives him a good feeding of what his boy really needs.
I laughed as I pictured Big Jim turning me over his knee afterward and slapping me on my butt to burp me.  It certainly acted like a pacifier.  I’d lie down on the creeper to slide under a big truck, spread my legs, draw my feet close to the base of the creeper, and get the full strength of Master Jim's big plug fucking me as I worked on a transmission.  I’d make my ass suck on it every so often to make it give me a good fucking for a minute or two.  He told me I could, and it would keep me hard and happy all day.

Thursday afternoon I was under a big Mack truck changing the oil.  Jake, my straight buddy and foreman, thought it was great fun to sneak up on me, put the tip of his big work boot right on my asshole and act like he was trying to fuck me with it.  It was all good natured fun to him, and I went along with it as it seemed to bond us in a friendship.  He liked me because I was a good sport and gave as good as I got.  I liked Jake.  He was a bit older than me, middle aged, and he dripped with redneck sex appeal.  He was full blooded Italian with raging male hormones he obviously didn’t get fully taken care of at home.  Jacobinni Antonio Carmine Raggazzi.  Ray-got’s-Z, he told me to pronounce it.  He had seven kids and was a good provider and father.

When I first began work at the garage he took me under his wing like a mother hen and taught me the basics of the trade, but not until he tested me by giving me every shit job in the place to do for several months.  Jake was the shop foreman, the ramrod of the shop who divided up the work, assigned it, and made sure it got done.  He was also a fount of mechanical knowledge.  Up to that time, I never met a man who knew as much about mechanics.  We were buds, but only at the shop.  He was a rough edged, foul mouthed, temperamental, sincere, intelligent, and caring man.

He was passionately Italian and could flash in a second, but he never did with me.  I seemed to have a calming effect on him, but he knew he could get away with almost anything with me.  He mistakenly thought he hurt my feelings one day, came to me with his hat in his hand, and cried as he apologized.  I assured him there was nothing to apologize for, he didn’t hurt my feelings.  I had him laughing again in five minutes calling me an asshole.

I liked Jake immediately.  I liked him a lot, and yes, damn it, I liked him that way, too.  He exuded raw, animal sexuality for which I had no immunity.  I got roaring hard every time he put his big beefy wop arm around my shoulder in a gesture of friendship.  Thank, God, for coveralls.  They’re so baggy you usually can’t tell anything about a man’s crotch.  I didn’t even mind doing the shit jobs he assigned me.  I was determined to do them well with a good attitude.  My personality, exactly opposite, drew us together like Yin and Yang.

I called him Rags or Big Daddy Jake, and he loved it.  Nobody got close enough to Jake to give him a nickname.  I did, and he thought it was okay.  Everybody in the shop started calling him that, too.  He didn’t mind the other guys calling him Rags, he sort of liked that, but he let them know I was the only one who could call him Daddy Jake.

He was a little taller than me and strong as an ox.  He was built stout.  He looked like a damn fireplug.  He had the neatest little beer gut which barely hung over his wide black leather belt.  I would jack off and fantasize about blowing him, having his gut hit me in the forehead every stroke my throat took on his big Italian sausage.  He’d find me by myself during break, put his big arm over my shoulder, and in a soft voice would say,  “Daddy Jake fucked his little boy good this afternoon, didn’t he?”  I think he sensed I was gay, but the play was his way of handling it.  He knew he liked me and wanted, somehow, to resolve the conundrum within himself.  This was his way of doing it, and I played along without pushing.  He loved to make me blush and have me go along with his shit.

“Damn, Daddy Jake, you really did fuck your boy good today.  Gotta’ give credit where credit’s due.  ‘At was a damn good boot fuck’n.  Fuck, I almost done come today.  Promise you’ll fuck me real good like ‘at again tomorrow?” I would pump him up.

He’d laugh, whomp me on the back, call me an asshole, but he always added, “You bet, kid, I love fucking my little boy.”

“You’re so good at it, too, Daddy Jake.” I’d tell him and he’d roar with laughter.

In the afternoon, I was under a big Case truck working on the linkage.  He zeroed in on my butt, got his big boot dead on my butthole and started his fucking my ass routine.  This time instead of jumping I relaxed and raised my feet in the air so he could get his best shot.  He put the flat of his heavy vibram sole boot right where he thought my ass would be and continued his fucking action.  He couldn’t figure it out, but I was going along with it.  That was good enough for him.  About the sixth big push with his boot I shot in my coveralls and began moaning.  I wrapped my legs around his big boot and urged him to continue.  “C’moan, Daddy Jake.  That was damn good.  Don’t stop with just one.  C’moan, fuck your boy good!  I know you got another one in that big hot Italian work boot of yours.  Give it to your boy, Daddy Jake.  Let chore’ little boy have it.  Fuck him hard, Daddy Jake.   ‘At’s it!  “At’s it!  Right there.  Yeah.  A little harder right there, Daddy Jake.  Woah, damn, Daddy Jake.  Woah, you be fuck’n me good, Daddy Jake.  Sooo good.  One more big one, Daddy Jake, stomp that mother fucker.  Ahhhhhh!  Oh, oh,ohhh...  Arrrggg!”  I groaned as I shot the biggest load I had in a long time.

He thought it was all an act on my part.  He got in the mood of the scene and started to pump me faster and harder.  Was I surprised?  He never did it before, but he seemed to be enjoying it.  I relaxed and raised my ass higher in the air to let him have at it.  He really got into it and pumped me so hard I shot again.  I couldn’t take anymore, I was drained.  I started laughing, called him a dirty, old wop son of a bitch, and told him to back off the game was over.

“You all right, Son?” he asked looking under the truck at me with the biggest grin on his big goom-ba face.

“I’m all right, Daddy Jake,”  I replied breathless and still laughing, “Damn, that was a good hot boot fuck’n, Daddy Jake.  Best you ever done gimme.’  Thank you,” I complimented him.  He laughed and walked away.  I rolled over on the creeper groaning and spent.  It took me five minutes to recover.  I laughed to myself thinking if he knew what he just did he’d piss in his pants.  I got out from under the truck, walked over to a box of clean rags, grabbed one, unzipped the front of my coveralls and began to clean myself.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Jake walk by my bay again.  He stopped, looked, and saw me cleaning myself.  I pretended I didn’t see him and went about my business.  I saw a knowing grin spread across his face.  He shook his head as he walked on with just a little more spring in his step.

Later, on break that afternoon, he was reserved and didn’t do his usual Big Daddy Jake, Italian stud, goom-ba routine, so I thought I’d yank his chain.
“Damn, Daddy Jake, you were really good this afternoon.  Don’t get me wrong, you always fuck me good, but today you's extra special good— no, hell— you were grrreeaaat!  Like Tony the tiger great,” I said.

Jake almost broke into a smile, was quiet for a moment, then looked me in the eye. “You shot your wad.  You came, didn’t chu’?” he asked quietly, grinning as he looked down at his big boots.

“Three times— thanks to you, Daddy Jake.  That was one hell of a hot boot fuck’n you gimme.'  You fucked me so damn good, I couldn’t help it.  I apologize, Daddy Jake.  I didn’t mean for it to happen, but you were just so damn fuck’n good I couldn’t hold it.  I almost come several times when you fucked me before with your boot, but you always stopped just about the time I was about ready to hit,” I smiled sweetly.  He shook his head and smiled back.  I could tell he still had questions.  I wasn’t going to give him a thing.

“No apology necessary, Son.  Glad I could help my boy out.  There's just one thing I wanna' know,” he said.

“Yeah, what’s ‘at, Daddy Jake?” I asked.

“What afternoon do you want Daddy Jake to drop by your apartment and show you how good he can really fuck you?” he asked.

I thought to myself, ‘What?’  I almost choked on my coffee and burned my hand, ‘What did he just say to me?  Did I hear him right?  Hot, straight, Italian stud wants to come by my apartment and fuck me in the butt with his dick?  After Nam I was a confirmed atheist, but at that very moment I was sure there must be a God.  “My door’s always open for my Daddy Jake,” I replied, grinned real big, and  played along, giving him enough rope.  I had to see where this would go.

“Okay, I’ll stop by this afternoon,” he said.  He smiled and winked at me.

“You already done got me off three times, Daddy Jake, you think you can get me off again?” I asked.

“Well, hell, if you came three times don’t you think your dear old dad deserves to get his at least once?” he asked.  He made a damn good point.  The old son of a bitch made me feel bad, and God knows, I'd love to take care of him.

“Of course, Daddy Jake.  I’m sorry.  I was being selfish thinking about how good your big fat Italian salami might feel fucking my boy butt.  I’d be downright proud and honored to play catcher for your team, dad,” I said remorsefully.  I looked down like I was a bad, unworthy, and ungrateful son.

“That’s okay, Son, but once I get inside you and I’m fucking you pretty hard, you probably won’t be able to hold back.  I’m a really good fucker,” he said seriously.  He wasn’t smiling.

‘When did it stop being a game?’  I thought to myself,  ‘Oh hell, this is just 'goom-ba' talk he won’t follow through.’

“What do you have in your ass?” he asked point blank.  My poor hand was getting scalded from spilling hot coffee on myself.  He laughed at me and handed me a paper towel.

“A big black plug my other daddy makes me wear,” I said.

“Can I feel it?” he asked.

I was blown away by his boldness, but by this time I was ready for anything.  I don’t know why I was so shocked?  He shocked me a hell of a lot worse before, why should today be any different?  Hell, he knew he could get away with anything with me.

“Sure, Daddy Jake,” I replied.

I jumped off the bench and stood in front of him.  I could feel him feeling around the ring which held my plug in place, and then around the outside circumference of the plug itself.  He felt the center, and the dirty old man pushed on it.  I pushed back with my ass, and he pushed a little harder.  Satisfied, he took his hand away and whistled long and low.  “Know what?  If I was your daddy, I’d make you wear it, to remind you of who’s the fuck’n boss and who cares about you,” he said.  I was stunned Jake would say something that thoughtful and progressive.  “You sure your daddy won’t mind me fucking you?” he asked and grinned at me.

“Naw, he’s away for several weeks, but he has a couple of his buddies come by to keep my ass fucked regularly.  I’m sure he wouldn’t mind a bit if you wanted to help.  Besides, it ain't like you’re gonna’ knock me up or nothing.”  I smiled at him, and we both laughed.  Jake got serious again.  ‘Oh, dear God, what was coming next?’ I wondered.

“He must love you a lot to take care of you like that?  I’d be glad to help out.  You tell him anytime he has to go away, I’ll stand in for him.  I’ll be glad to keep you fucked real good.  I could always stop by on my way home from work and throw a good hard fuck in ya.’  'Cause,Son, when I fuck ya,’ you’ll stay fucked, two, maybe three days at a time.  He won’t have to get them other guys,” Jake said in all seriousness.

“Damn, you’re a thoughtful man, Daddy Jake,” I told him with my tongue stuffed in my cheek.  He was sincere, and I just couldn’t bust his bubble.  “I’m sure he’d appreciate it, but I have to tell you he never allows me to touch his plug.  Whoever fucks me has to remove it, and put it back after he uses me.”

“Oh, I don’t mind.  That’s no problem.  I think keeping your ass plugged is a great idea as long as I can grab a feel now and then, and fuck you with my boot like I done today.  No wonder you came three times, you little piggy.  I knew something was wrong when you wrapped your legs around my old boot, wouldn’t let me go, and kept urging me to fuck you harder,” said Daddy Jake with a smirk.  “It was fucking hot,” he added chuckling to himself.

“No, Daddy, it was three times hot,” I said.  We roared with laughter.

Break was over.  Daddy Jake stood up and had a little wet spot at the crotch of his coveralls.  I smiled sweetly and yanked his chain again.  “Uh, ‘scuse  me, Daddy Jake, what’s that little spot on your coveralls.  Spill coffee on ya’?  Piss your pants?” I laughed at him.

“No, Red Riding Hood, that’s what us men call smegma, man lubricant, for lubing manholes,” he said.  At least he didn’t lose his sense of humor.  It was still alive and fully intact.  “All the better to fuck you with you smart ass little piss-ant,” he added then roared with laughter.  God, I liked Jake.

“Oh, by the way, Daddy Jake, you gotta’ fuck me wearing them big bad-ass boots you be wear’n,” I said and winked at him.

“Holy Mother, I fantasized about fucking somebody wearing my big stompers.  May’s well be you, boy.  Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours none, Daddy Jake’s gonna’ tear off a goodly piece of your butt you won’t soon forget,” he bragged.

“You’re such an old sweet talker, Daddy Jake,” I said teasing him.  The rest of the afternoon dragged, but Jake came by to visit me twice like a male dog sniffs a female in heat, making hot little sexual statements, reaching down when no one was looking to feel the plug in my butt and play with it.

“My old dick’s just drooling thinking about gettin’ into that hot, little ass-pussy of yours.  Do you mind if I call it that?” he asked.

“You can call it anything you like as long as you give it a good fucking,” I said and laughed.  I was really having fun and the Devil in me just couldn’t resist yanking his chain some more.  “You gonna’ need me to suck that big Italian salami for you a little bit to get you good and hard, Daddy Jake?” I asked seductively.

“What, are you kidding, boy?  Look!” he demanded.

Jake pulled his baggy coveralls tight across his front so I could see the outline of his hard cock.  Damn, it looked like the Lochness  monster.  I started laughing, and told him I was looking forward to giving it a ggod ride.

“Would you mind if I licked it a few times for you?” I teased him.

“Sweet Jesus, what time you got, boy?” he asked then asked again, “You like to be fucked gentle or can you take it really hard?”

“Hard as you can fuck me, Daddy Jake,” I assured him.

“Whooo, damn, I’m gonna’ go talk to Sam.  He owes me a couple of favors.  We’s through here anyway.  He’ll let us go a few minutes early,” he said.  He walked into Sam's office and came back to help me put my tools away.

“Let’s go, boy.  Your ass is mine for a while.  You’re on my fucking time so get your ass in gear,” he ordered with a growl.

I was laughing my ass off at his urgency.  He was really hot, and his motor was in overdrive.  I thought, 'Well, if I’m gonna’ be a slave I may as well practice on Jake and go into it with a bang.'  I chuckled to myself at my self-impudence.  Beside, I’d wondered for a long time what it might be like to have big Daddy Jake fuck the holy shit out of me.  I was about to find out.  Jake knew where I lived.  He dropped me off a few times when I walked or got a ride to work with a friend because I had my bike torn apart to repair.  He was a good friend, but I hoped this wasn’t going to ruin our friendship.  When we got into the apartment I told him to get us a beer out of the fridge.

We drank for a minute, and I smiled at him.  “Jake, is this gonna' hurt our friendship?” I asked.

“Fuck no, kid, you know the way I feel about you.  You’re like the fucking kid brother I never had.  If anything it’s gonna’ make our friendship stronger,” he replied reassuring me.

“You mean you’d fuck your little brother?” I asked and grinned.

“If he had an ass like yours and wanted to take a ride on his bubba’s horsey?  Does a frog have a watertight asshole?” he shot back.

“Okay, I just don’t wanna’ lose your friendship, it’s important to me,” I said seriously.

He looked at me with glazed eyes and wiped a tear away.  “I ain’t never had a friend tell me that.  Thanks, kid.  It means a lot,” he replied.

“Well, after all,” I tried to lighten the mood,” you are my good-fucking Daddy Jake, ain’t cha’?” I asked.

“You’re gonna’ find out how good a fuck Daddy Jake can be pretty damn quick,” he said with some urgency.

“Okay, Jake, let’s get to it.  I’ll get undressed and you can, too, in that other bedroom if you like,” I directed him.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Jake replied.

I got undressed and stood naked for a minute.  Jake strolled back in the room with no self-consciousness, his big Italian salami sticking straight up passed his belly button.  It must have been ten inches of fat Italian sausage.  He put his boots back on and laced them up.  Damn they were hot.  He knew it, too, and stomped a couple of times for effect.  Jake smiled to see the look of lust on my face.

“Is this enough hose to fill your tank, Son?” He waggled his weapon at me.

“I think it just might bring me a modicum of comfort,” I said.  Then I added with a wicked grin, “My, my, your wife is a lucky woman, Daddy Jake.”  We laughed.

Jake saw the cock cage and belt on me.  He looked a little startled.  He walked over and boldly examined first the belt then the cage.  He was fascinated but not the least put off.  He surprised me. “Your fucking dad really knows what he’s doing.  I don’t know him, but I know I’d like him.  I can tell he really cares a lot for you.  He don’t want nobody playing with your boy prick, huh?”

“Well— that, but most of all, he don’t want me playing with it.  He wants me to come only when he’s fucking me.”

“Well, now, you can’t fault ‘a man for that, Son," Jake said like he thought it was the most reasonable thing in the world for one man to require of another, then added, "I’d keep you the same damn way.  Your old man's right, the only time you should be allowed to come is when your old man, one of his buddies, or me is fuck’n you,” Jake said with all seriousness.

‘Why you old pervert,’  I thought to myself and laughed.  You work with someone every day, day in, day out, and since you see them so much you forget how special they can be as individuals.  I was beginning to realize how special Jake was to me.  He was about to become a lot more special.  I handed him a towel and told him what to do to remove my plug.  I pulled the ring strap away from my ass.  He didn’t hesitate to grab hold of it, and pop it out into the waiting towel.  He folded the towel over it and handed it to me.

He whistled low as he felt how large and heavy it was.  “Damn, that’s a big plug.  You been wearing that big thing to work all week?” he didn’t wait for a reply,  “Look at my fuck’n dick, it’s dripping just thinking about you wearing that big fucker up your butt and me stomping your ass with my big boot.  Shit, no wonder you came three times,” Jake said in amazement.

“Felt good, too.  The last one almost wiped me out.  Think you can fuck me again tomorrow, Daddy Jake?” I laughed.

“Hell, yes, boy, try’n stop me,” he said and laughed.  I took the towel from him.

“Thanks, Jake, I’ll be back in a minute.  I’m gonna’ jump in the shower and hose my ass out.”

“Hose your ass out?” Jake asked.

“Yes, sir, so's I don’t get my daddy's dick dirty.  I could get my ass beat real bad for not being clean for the man what wants to use me.  I’ll only take me a minute.  Relax, have another beer,” I said.

“Thanks, kid, I will,” he replied.

I finished, dried off and came back into the bedroom.  Jake lay across the bed with his rock hard dick lying across his belly.  He had on his work boots all tightly laced to the top.  I never knew they laced all the way to the knee.

“Damn, hot fucking boots, Daddy Jake,” I compliment him.

“Don’t know why, but I thought you’d like ‘em.  I ordered a pair after you showed me yours.”

“Can I clean ‘em up for you, sir?” I asked.  I hope I didn't sound too needy, but my mouth was producing an abundance of saliva.

“Sure, you got a rag?” he asked.

“Don’t need no rag, Daddy Jake," I said and grinned at him.

I grabbed his big heavy boot, brought it up to my mouth, and started cleaning the grease and grime off with my tongue.  Jake was fascinated but didn’t say a word until both were spit clean.  He raised first one then the other and smiled.  Something in that simple act of subservience changed our positions from smart-ass kid and bull of the woods to protective conquering hero and needy, handsome, young serf.

He was primed, conditioned, imprinted, that it was all right to take charge of the situation for his enjoyment as well as mine.  Could Jake be imprinted to become a Master?  Naw, just couldn’t happen; however, I had an idea he’d make a great one.  Stranger things have happened.  I never thought in a million years he’d be butt naked on my bed hotter than a pawn shop pistol to get his dick up my butt.

“Good job, Son.  Now I know your talents I’ll expect more from you,” he said and grinned.

“Thanks, Daddy Jake, glad to be of  service,” I replied.

“Now, is that harness gonna’ get in the way?” he asked.

“Naw, Daddy, it’s gonna’ help you.”

I lay on the edge of the bed and raised my legs into the air for him to see.  The four inch ring pushed my ass cheeks away and gave a bulls eye effect to  my rosebud.

“Damn, that’s hot.  I see what you mean.  Your daddy sure knows what he’s doing.  Do you want me to shower, Son?” he asked.

“Hell, no, Daddy Jake, I love the way you smell after a hard days work at the garage.  I almost come sometime when you sit close to me at break in the afternoon and put your arm around me,” I told him.

“Well, why the hell didn’t you say something?” Jake asked like he was irritated.

“What could I say?  You weren’t ready, Jake,” I replied seriously,  "you had some issues to resolve in your own mind."

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.  No, no, you are right.  Until I met you and wasn’t threatened, I wouldn’t consider nothing like this.  I’d beat the shit out of any man who even suggested it.  Like I say, I don't think of you that way, you know what I mean.  I think of you as a kid brother; a kid brother who has the best looking ass I ever seen on a man or a woman.  Now, here I am, I can’t wait to get into it and fuck you silly.  Go Figure?  You need some grease for your ass?” he asked.

“Naw, sir, I’m already lubed.  I got one of our guns in there packed with ass lube.  I just stick it up my ass and pump as I pull it out.  All you gotta’ do is lie back, let me get some spit on that big cock of yours, you can climb on, and show me if you’re as good a cowboy as you brag.  One thing to keep in mind Daddy Jake, when you take me, you gotta' do it hard and steady.  Don’t try to ease it in.  Just slam it real smooth right to the hilt.  Grab me and hold me until you feel my ass stop arguing with your cock, then you can take a few strokes to get my butt juices flowing.  You take over from there, and ride it anyway you feel comfortable.  Ride it for an hour or two if you like.  Whatever makes you feel the best, go for it.”

“Damn, boy, that’s hot, but are you sure you want me to split you open like that?” Jake asked with concern.

“It’s a requirement of my other dad, and if you don’t he won’t let you to fuck me no more.  I can’t lie to him.  I have to tell him the truth,” I said.

“Oh no, I wouldn’t want you lying to him.  I’ll be happy to play by his rules.” Jake lay back and closed his eyes as I began to work on his already rock hard cock.  Damn, he tasted good.  He smelled strong with healthy man sweat and good clean body odors.  I thought he was going to go nuts when I licked and cleaned his big hairy balls.  He moaned and writhed on the bed but never told me to stop.  I got as much spit or his pony as I could and told him I was ready.  I lay on my back on the edge of the bed, grabbed around my knees with my arms, spread them apart, so my hole would be right at waist height for Daddy Jake to drive right in.  He got up, and positioned himself with the head of his cock poised at my back door.

“You ready for some good fucking, Son?” he asked with a grin.

“Gimme’ all you got, Daddy Jake, every inch of it.  Don’t cheat your boy none, neither.  You don’t wanna’ make a grown man cry, do ya?’  I wanna’ feel them big wop balls bounce off my ass at least twice when you bottom out.”  I laughed and he chuckled.  I watched as he rammed it in swift, smooth, and steady to the hilt and his balls did bounce twice.  Woah dogies, it filled me in an instant but my ass didn’t spasm like it did before; maybe, because of wearing the plug.  Have to give it to my shop foreman, his entry was smooth but forceful.  I’m sure Master Jeb would’ve nodded his head in approval and patted him on the back.  He hurt so damn good inside me, I started babbling.  “Oh, thank you, Daddy Jake, for taking my butt so hard and good.  You were so smooth.  I know my other daddy would pat you on the back, smile, and give you a big thumbs up.  Thank you.  Now, it’s all yours, Daddy Jake.  Enjoy your boy’s hole.  Fuck it good for us.  My ass is for your pleasure and comfort.  Take as much as you need.”  As he entered my body, Jake grabbed me around my upper body and held me in a bear hug.  He wasn’t about to let me off his shaft.

“Damn, boy, you’re welcome.  You tell yore’ daddy— anytime.  I never imagined a man’s ass could feel this good.  What the fuck have I been missing all these years.  Shit.  Now, you just relax, Son, and let Daddy Jake do the driving.  I promised you a good fuck’n and, by God, Daddy Jake’s gonna’ see to it you get it,” he promised.  And, drive he did, and like a Greyhound bus driver, I left the driving to him.  He was everything I fantasized he might be and much more.  He took a couple of small test strokes and surprised me when he slammed the third one in pretty hard.  I groaned.  “Hurtin’ ya,’ Son?” he asked

“Hell, no, Daddy Jake, you’re doing a fine job and you were right, you feel great up there.  I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold back you’re such a hot stud,” I said and I wasn't lyingt.  He seemed flattered.  Then he started fucking me like he wanted.  He fucked me up one side of my bed and down the other then around again three times; all the time trying to slam more of himself into me.  His fucking was a strong steady rhythm like he liked it.  He also liked to do some slow deep fucking.  He would pull it out to the head, then very smoothly and firmly sink it to the base.  Jake nearly drove my body up a tree it was so good, with his steady, slow, powerful, deep fucking over and over again.  He’d pull out to just the head, hold it until he felt my body vibrating with expectancy, and then slowly, sink it back into me with reserved strength.

He’d get a funny smile on his face like he knew what he was doing to me and he was in full charge of the fuck.  With every stroke he made it clear he was my fucking boss-man.  He was definitely in charge of the fucking department.  He was right, he didn’t overly brag about doing right by my ass.  If anything he was modest compared to the fucking he was giving me.  I was getting fucked righteously, and I urged him on.  I showered him with compliments which only resulted in getting me fucked stronger and better.  He was in his element.  “Damn, Daddy Jake, you weren’t lying to me about how good you can fuck.  You’re giving me one hell of a fucking.  I just want you to know how much your boy appreciates it,” I said.

“Shit, boy, I ain’t never fucked nobody like this before.  You’re making me want to do my best for your little hole.  Would you like Daddy Jake to take you for a really hard ride?” he asked.

“Daddy Jake, that hole is yours.  You own it.  You don’t have to ask your boy.  Your boy’s only here to serve it up good’n hot for your pleasure, sir.  He’ll stay with you and feed it to your big shaft as long as you need it.  Forget about your boy.  You take what you need, Daddy Jake, but since you were kind enough to ask, 'yes,'  I’d love to feel you ride me as hard as you fucking can.  How do you like fucking your boy with them big, stomping boots on?” I asked.

“Aww fuck, Son, it’s the damn icing on the cake.  I’ll show you how they make me feel,” he said with a grin.  With that he took hold of the fucking reins and started his old horse on a good solid gallop.  Man, could he fuck hard.  No wonder Italian men are so passionate.  It was like he was operating a pile driving machine, and we were three days behind schedule.  He kept slamming his huge cock into me, and I had a flashback to Master Jim fucking me in much the same way.  I instantly stopped trying to tighten my asshole for Jake, and let it lose its pucker.  I let my ass bloom for him.

Damn, if it didn’t trip his come wire.  He started yelling like a man possessed.  Then he shot, and shot again in my ass.  He began whimpering as he shot the last time and collapsed on top of me.  I held him in my arms, rubbed his head, and whispered “there, there’s” to him, more compliments about how good he fucked me, and how proud and honored I was to have his strong Italian cream in my butt.  He was still raging hard, but I could feel him emptying more into me.  He started to get up, but I pulled him back to rest some more on top of me.  He melted into me, and put his big hairy Italian arms around me.

“Now, Daddy Jake, you just relax.  Your fresh fucked boy is gonna’ milk the rest of that good Italian sauce out a’ you,” I said.  I started milking his cock with my ass like Master Jeb and Jim taught me and felt Jake’s body shiver as the last few drops of his come were claimed by my ass.

“Damn, Son, where’d ju' learn that?” he asked.

“My daddy taught me,” I said, "He wants to make sure I have all his gizz inside me."

“I’d sure like to meet the man someday, shake his hand, and — you know what?” Jake asked.

“What, Daddy Jake?”

“He’s damn lucky to have you for a boy, and you know what else?” he asked.

“What?”

“I’m damn lucky to have you for a buddy, a kid brother.”

“Thank you, Daddy Jake.  I’ve always felt that way about you,” I said sincerely.  I couldn’t help love the man, especially after that fucking.  Woah!  What was happening to me?  In less than a week I had another alpha-male resting comfortably up my butt after fucking the holy hell out of me.  Was my slave inside responsible for this?  Was I sending out new and different pheromones?

“You didn’t come,” he said.

“I thought this one was for my daddy?” I said looking like a boy who was disappointed.  Jake smiled real big.

“Damn, kid, you do know the right thing to say,” he said.

“Pull out of me and roll over on your back, dad, and if you’ll let me ride your pony I’ll get off for you,” I said.  Jake slowly pulled out of my ass and rolled over on his back.  I positioned myself on the head of his still rock hard cock and impaled myself to the base.  It took Jake’s breath away.  It was pretty breath taking for me, too.

“Damn, boy, don’t that hurt?” Jake asked.

“Naw,” I lied, “I’m used to it by now.  My dad slowly trained me how to do it.  That’s the only way he’ll allow me to take him.”

I took a couple good strokes to ease the pain.  Jake watched intently as I began to ride him.  When I got a good solid rhythm going his eyes fluttered closed, and knew I had him locked in on my man-come radar.  I just kept the same steady rhythm going until Jake started wiggling under me, and I knew he was going up the road to Comesville.  He was about to deposit another hot Italian load in my gut.  I was not far from the city limits myself.  I felt it building inside me.  As I picked up speed and length of stroke, I was slamming my ass pretty damn hard against his base when he started yelling.  “I can’t hold it any longer, Son, you’re gonna' get me again.”  He writhed and moaned as he once again shot his hot Italian seed into me.  I exploded all over his hairy chest as he filled my ass with his come for the second time.  It was only the second time in my life I ever came at the same time with a partner.  He lay there with the dumbest smile on his face and then started laughing.  “I guess you fucked Daddy Jake pretty good that time, huh, Son?” We both laughed.  With him still in me I lapped up every bit of my come from his chest.  He lay back silently watching me.  I could sense the gears turning in his head.

“Yep!  I sure as shit wanna’ meet yore’ old man and shake his hand,” he said.  Then he just looked at me for a moment and a seriousness came across his face,

“Thank you, Son,” he said quietly.

“No, Daddy Jake, thank you.  You got me off four times today.  What more could a boy want from his surrogate dad.  You hear a lotta’ guys talk some shit, but Daddy Jake, you da' man!  Your boy’s here to tell ya,’ you got brag’n rights.  You’re a damn fine fucker.  The only man what does it better is my other daddy,” I said.

“I’m happy to settle for number two, Son,” Jake laughed.

I made a friend and fuck buddy for life.  “You know what, Daddy Jake?”

“What, boy?”

“After that good fuck'n, I’ll probably stay fucked for three, four days, maybe more.  You were that good,” I complimented him.

“Damn, that’s what I get for being so good,” he said with remorse.  We shared a laugh.  We got up and drank another beer.  I knew he wanted to fuck me again, but it was getting late.  I had some things to take care of.  Then I was concerned for him.  I didn’t want his wife to become suspicious.

I gave him a towel, and he jumped in the shower.  “Just rinse off.  Don’t use soap, Daddy Jake,” I said, “Women notice different smells.”

“You’re right, Son, smart thinking,” he replied.  He got out of the shower and was toweling off.  He wasn’t shy about coming out nude.  He was proud of his manhood as well he should be.  As good as he just fucked me, I was proud of it for him.  He liked to walk around me with it swinging free, hitting me here and there to tease me.  I liked it, too.  While he was in the shower I cleaned and greased the plug.  I set it on a clean towel on the bed.  He saw it and grinned like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Do I get to put it back?” he asked sheepishly.

“Them’s the rules, Dad.  I ain't allowed to touch it,” I said.  Okay, so I was improvisiong a little.  I knew it would turn Jake on to insert my plug and make him feel in charge.  I lay back across the bed, brought my knees up to my chest, reached down with my hand, and pulled the strap and ring to the side.  Surprisingly, he didn’t hesitate, picked it up, and popped it into my ass like a pro.  I fell to my knees in front of him and grabbed him around the waist.  By now, he wasn’t surprised by anything I did.  I brought my face close the big head of his dick and kissed it gently.  I stuck my tongue in his piss slit and began to lap copious amounts of pre-come oozing from it.

“Damn, Daddy Jake, your juices taste wonderful.  Can I have some more?” I asked as I kept licking and sucking.

“Hell, you can have a quart of it, kid, but if you keep it up much longer I’m gonna’ rip that plug out a’ your butt and fuck you again,” he said.  I laughed and stopped.  “I can’t believe you wear that big plug all day,” he said again, “I ain't complaining none, mind you.  I think you should.  If your old man wants you to wear it, then by God, you damn well better.  Now that I know, I’m gonna’ check you every morning to make damn sure you’re wearing it.  If not, I’m gonna’ send your ass home to get it, understand, boy?” he asked with a growl.

“That’s your right, Daddy Jake, to check your boy’s butt.  Any man who fucks me as righteously as you just done, earns the right,” I lavished him with praise.

Jake gave me a stern look then broke into a big smile.  “Did fuck my little boy pert-damn good, didn’t I?” he asked and chuckled.

“The best, Daddy Jake,” I replied.

I threw on some clothes, and he got dressed in the other bedroom.  I saw him to the door and thanked him again.  I put my arms out, and he gave me a big bear hug.  “I ain’t looked forward to going to work in a long time, kid, but I just may be early tomorrow,” he said.  We both laughed.

“Okay, you have full access to me tomorrow, anytime you want, but I’m gonna’ trust you to play it cool,” I said.

“Are you kidding?  And screw up a good thing?  You can trust me,” he replied.  Somehow, I knew I could.

* * * * * * *

Part IV ~ To be or not to be?  I’m sorry, would you repeat the question?

"C’moan think!  Think wha’cha doin’ to me, Think!  Think!  Think!  Now!"~  Respect ~ Aretha Franklin

I had some things to think about.  I spent most of the week thinking about the pros and cons of a radical life change.  I knew I wasn’t happy.  I wasn’t sure what to do about it, but Master Jeb made a hell of a lot more sense than any stupid therapist ever did.  Did I have any guilt feelings about fucking around with Jake?  A little, but hell, except for the plug, I wasn’t under their control yet.  Until I walked in there and signed a contract I wouldn’t be.  Master Jim’s attempt at control was not in Master Jeb’s original agreement with me, and I doubted he knew I had a plug or a cock and ball restraint chasty cage on when I left last Friday.  I also doubt Big Jim told him.  I really hadn’t thought much about Big Jim during the week.  (Lie to yourself, kid, don‘t lie to the readers.  They know better.)  Okay, okay, you win.  I couldn’t think of another damn thing but Master Jim all fucking week.  How could I, with his damn plug up my butt?

Yeah, all right, I’ll admit it, the fantasy I told Jake about my daddy was Master Jim, but you already guessed it didn’t you?  I’m really fucked, huh?  'Okay, let’s look at it another way,'  I talked to myself, ‘Say nothing happens and you can’t get together with the giant.  Even if you did you know he’s not going to be happy until you allow him to lop off your manhood.  Say you do get sold to a complete stranger, what then?'  Look at you, you’ve always needed to serve someone or some cause.  You became an emotional slave to saving those young guys in Nam.  You took on the responsibility of a war you had nothing to do with as your personal crusade to save them.  You shipped over once so you could continuing serving.  They wanted to send you home twice, but you refused to let them.  You hauled your ass right back out there.  You thought you were invincible.  They wouldn’t shoot a medic, would they?  Damned, if they didn’t.'

If you did get sold what would be the worst case scenario?  You could possibly end up with a real bastard for a master.  Could that happen if Master Jeb filtered the masters who would be allowed to bid on me?  It doesn’t have to be completely in Master Jeb’s hands alone.  I could work hard, learn to be a good slave, work my body as hard as possible, so I would make myself attractive to the best of masters.  That sounds like a plan, but maybe Master Jeb has other plans.  Well, you can learn to work in the context of those plans.  He seems like a reasonable man.  What have you got to lose by trying?  Well, quite possibly your penis, for one small thing.  What the fuck, you’ve seriously been considering suicide.  Perhaps, being a slave is better than being dead with or without your damn dong.  If you find out you’re miserable, there are ways to get out of it.  After all, slavery in the U.S. is against the law.

Yeah, but we’re talking ‘consensual’ slavery here.  It becomes like a personal military conscription.  It might be argued it’s just another form of servitude.  Why do you think the military calls it 'the service.'  You’re there to serve.  So don’t even go into it unless you’re going to be serious about it.  You know yourself pretty well.  If you give your word to someone it becomes your law.  A written contract would chisel it in granite.  You can’t help it, it’s just the way you were raised.  You’re young enough if everything goes to hell you could still re-adjust and regain anything you might lose, except, of course, for your dick and balls.  Okay, there’s another possibility.  You just might get sold to a really hot master who you would enjoy serving for years.  Naw, just ain't my luck.  On the other hand, you might be sold to a master who isn’t the hottest, or one you might not choose yourself, but if Master Jeb’s description of imprinting is correct, it could take care of a lot of deficiencies.  You’ve seen imprinting in action.  You’ve been wearing Big Jim’s plug all damn week and will probably wear it tomorrow.

Are you kidding?  If you don’t, Jake will turn you over his knee and send you home for it.  When you get back, the horny old goat will turn you over his knee again for good measure.  Cut that out, you love Jake.  Yeah, I do, but Jake’s a friend.  You love your friends, but you don’t move them in with you, especially if they’re straight.  The chances of getting a master I would come to care about is probably better than fifty/fifty.  All right, as long as you aren’t going into this with the idea Master Jim is going to change his mind and receive you with open arms.  Yes, but he did sent that telegram.  Yeah, but he also knew he was wrong.  He was afraid Master Jeb would find out.  Jeb might be pissed if Big Jim alienated me and I didn’t agree to go into training.  He’s just covering his butt.  How are you going to handle being around him and working with him training you?  Will you continue to be imprinted with him personally?  It may be a real test.  What if he sucks you in again only to hide behind his oath to Master Jeb?  Don’t let him.  Don’t give him the chance.  Fool me once, shame on you.  Fool me twice, shame on me.  Yeah, but you know you’re in love with him.  You’d almost settle for crumbs from his table.

I can’t do that.  In a weird way, it ain’t fair to him either.  Remember what he said when you told him it felt natural calling him master.  Did it?  Were you lying to the big man?  God no, it was the most truthful thing I ever revealed about myself to anyone.  In a way the statement said to him; ‘Master Jim, I love you and want more than anything in the world to be your slave and serve you.’  On the other hand, I don’t want to trap someone who wouldn’t be happy with me in the long run.  What could be worse?  Are you going to do it?  I don’t know.  I won’t know until I walk in there and get the feel of all combined confluences.  Were you born a slave, Beau?  Look into your past?  When your mother had Gladys, then Turner, but she was never much of a mother.  You were still in grade school when you learned to make formula for your little sister and baby brother.  You changed diapers, you bathed them, and you basically raised those two kids, while she set back and let you.  You were a slave to her, a slave to them, and ultimately became a slave to your dad.  He did nothing to help or alleviate the situation.

You essentially gave up your childhood for your dad, little brother, and sister.  Look at you today, you’re still sending money home to them.  They only write you when they need something.  You bought and paid for their love for years one way or another, and you're still doing it.  You can't get your ass to the post office fast enough with a check for them if they need money.  Look at you in Nam.  You damn near killed yourself trying to serve the needs of those men, but you failed.  You couldn’t save them all.  Are you a slave, Andrew Beaureguard James Jr.?  Let yourself hear you say it.  Master Jeb said to hear yourself say it you were over halfway there: Yes, by God, I am a slave!   And, God as my witness, I will be the best damn slave I can be.


Part V ~  A line in the sand

“Rainy day people always seem to know when you’re feeling low.” ~ Gordan Lightfoot

Jake was in to work early.  He had all the work assignments passed out to the other mechanics and handed me my list.  It was the first time I ever got to work and Jake was already there.  He made rounds to see if the guys understood their assignments, and if they needed help.  When every one was taken care of he headed for my stall.  It was at the end of the shop before the big storage yard.  It was hidden from the front and the other bays.  

“Okay, kid, your turn, but first hit parade rest for inspection,” Jake ordered.

I put my tools down and immediately snapped to parade rest with my hands behind my back, legs spread apart.  He came around behind me, and I felt his big hand feeling around my ass checking for my plug.  He took his fingers and pushed hard on it.  “Push back, Son, I wanna' make sure it’s seated properly,” he commanded.

I grinned and pushed back hard with my butt.  I’ll have to say he seated it a little better than I did.  “That seated it in there right, sir.  It just needed a boss-man's touch who knows what he’s doing to seat it properly.  Thanks for checking, Daddy Jake.”

“What are daddies for, Son?” he asked.

“You’re the best, Daddy Jake,” I replied.

“I’ll do ‘til your old man gets home.  You’ll put in a good word with him for me?” he asked.

“The best, Daddy Jake.”

“Oh, by the way, Son, I have to thank you for something.”

“Awh, hell, Daddy Jake, you know you’re welcome.”

“No, no, not about that.  You remember me taking a shower at your place last night, and you told me not to use soap?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” I replied.

“Got home, gave my wife a kiss, she perked up, sniffed my neck, and I thought I was a dead  man,” he said.

“Oh, my God, what happened?” I asked.

Jake chuckled.  “She told me I really smelled good sometimes after a hard day's work, the kids were all gone, and did I have plans after dinner?  Son, it was the best sex we had in five or six years.  She did things to me she would’ve never considered before.  Unasked.  What the hell happened?”

“Well, Daddy Jake, you just had hot sex about an hour before, and you were giving off a lot of good male sex odors that probably turned her on.  I been told women respond to that sort of thing.  I'm bettin’ if any man would have it, you would,” I said like I had no doubt.

“Is there a way we could bottle it?  She was a wild woman.  I hate to say this about my own wife, and I mean it in the best possible way, but if I went to a whore house she’s the type woman I’d pick to go with.  And the icing on the fucking cake?  She thought it was all because of me,” Jake said and grinned from ear to ear.   I smiled wryly at him.

“You should a’ never told me that, Daddy Jake,” I said pointing a finger at him and doubled over laughing, "I’m gonna’ install a meter by my bed, and you’ll have to keep dropping quarters in while you fuck me.  Let’s see, say fifty cent a half hour,” I said laughing my ass off.

Jake leaned in close and said in a lecherous voice, “Son, that’s cheap at twice the price for the sex I got at home last night,” he said then joined me in laughter.

We got down to business, Jake asked me if I understood my work assignment sheet, and did I need any help?  I didn’t think so, but he could probably help me with a personal problem around three o’clock this afternoon.  “I’ll be under that big Case truck finishing the linkage.”

“Be glad to help you out, Son,” he said with a wink.

‘Damn,’ I thought, ‘I’m going to break his heart if I leave.’

The day went quickly, and we broke for lunch about eleven-thirty.  I was  busy all morning and so was Jake.  He didn’t come around all morning which wasn’t like him.  We went off by ourselves to eat, and I noticed a frown on his face.  “You ain’t been ‘round all morning, dad, some'um wrong?” I asked quietly.

“Hell, I sure wanted to, but I got hung up with that stupid Tom.  He was supposed to be troubleshooting an electrical problem on that big Ford Truck.  He was doing nothing but eat’n up time, and not getting the job done.  Sam asked me to help him.  I did, but instead of him doing it while I told him what to do so’s he could learn something he stood back and watched me do it.  I don’t mind showing a guy how to do something, but I expect him to know it the next time.  I don’t mind showing ‘em two or three times if they ultimately learn it.  He won’t even try to learn.  The son of a bitch bills himself as a top notch mechanic, but when it comes to producing he can’t do shit.

"He steals tools.  He lies with no conscience.  He whines and bitches about everything.  Every time I walk by his bay he’s either eating or his sign’s up, he’s in the shitter.  He’s like a fuck’n parrot, all he does is eat, shit, and squawk.  His only purpose in life is to fulfill his own selfish needs.  What’s worst, the stupid little bastard thinks he’s putting one over on everyone.  I’d never let the little son of a bitch work on one of my vehicles.  He’s a big fucking phony.  Sam insists on keeping him around.  Maybe Sam’s fucking him.”  It was the laugh we both needed.  “Anyway, I’m through with him now, and I think I’ll be able to help you with that personal problem around three,” he said and cheered up.  His whole demeanor changed.

“Well, dad, if you can’t, don’t worry about it,” I said, trying to console him, “there’ll be lot’s a’ time later to help your boy.”

We started eating and he brought me a portion of some Italian chicken dish his wife made.  Damn, it was good.  We talked like two good friends without all the, ‘Daddy fucked you good’ bullshit.  It was like our friendship was raised to new and better level.  He dropped his good-fellow facade and talked about dreams, concerns, relationships, and trucks.  I learned more about Jake in that hour than I ever knew about him.  It was as if I truly became his little brother, and he felt he could tell me anything.  How could I help love him?  We bonded as friends.  I never again called him Daddy Jake.  Mostly, I just called him ‘dad’, boss-man, and sometimes Jake.  I never called him ‘Rags’ anymore.  I didn’t feel that name was respectful enough for a man I came to love and looked up to.

The afternoon flew by.  Three o’clock came and went with no visit from dad.  I wasn’t worried.  I saw him pass by waving his arms and talking loudly to one of the other mechanics and guessed he got caught up.  Four thirty came, and I started to put my tools away and here he came.  “Shit, Son, I’m sorry I didn’t get by to help you with that personal problem, but I’d be happy to after work.

“Dad, I can’t tonight.  I got somewhere to be about five-thirty and it’s four-thirty now,” I said as I looked at my watch.

He looked like I stabbed him through the heart. “Okay, that’s all right, another time,” he said quietly.  I could tell he was disappointed.

He turned to walk away and I remembered how Big Jim rejected me.  I couldn’t do that to Jake.  I’d come to love him too damn much.  I could call Master Jeb and tell him something came up, I would be there but would he be so kind as to grant me an hour's extension on our agreed deadline?  “Dad?” he turned to listen.  “You had a rough day, huh?” I asked. He didn’t look up but shook his head affirmatively.  “Drop by for a beer.  Fuck it, I can be late.  You wouldn’t let me down if I needed you,” I said.

“Sounds good, Son, meet cha’ there, and you’re right, I’d do my damnedest to be there for you,” he replied.

Somehow I knew he would, and he always has.  Dad was waiting in his pickup out front when I drove into the driveway.  “Come on in, dad.  Let’s take a load off,” I said.  I smiled knowing he got my double meaning.  We walked in, and I got us a couple of beers.  “Now, I’ll be right back.  Relax, drink your beer.  I gotta’ make a phone call to let my friend know I’m gonna’ be late."  I went to my little office off the living room, a walk in closet, and phoned Master Jeb.  Big Jim answered the phone.  “Master Jeb?” I asked.

“No, this is Jim,” he said.  He paused a moment waiting for my response.

“Hello, Master Jim, this is Bull Dog Butch calling,” I said like a kid calling for a date.

There was a pause then a laugh from Big Jim.  “Indeed, good to hear your voice, Son.  You all right?” he asked.

“Yes, sir, I’m fine.  I couldn't be better,” I replied.

“You forgive me?” he asked sheepishly.

I wasn’t going to let him off that easily.  “You ordered me to forgive you, Master Jim.  You still have control of me.  You had control of me all week.  I must obey my master,” I replied without nuance.

“Holy shit, I should've known better.  You’re right again, boy.  Let me ask you a yes or no question?  Do you enjoy killing giants?” he asked.

“Only when they’re in season,” I replied and laughed, “I keep thinking if I wing one maybe I can get his attention long enough to show him I only want to love and become his faithful slave one day.”

“Damn, boy,you could rip the heart out of a Tasmanian Devil with your brains and quick tongue,” he said.

I paused for a long moment before answering.  “Master Jim?” I asked quietly.

“Yes, Son?”

“Of course, I forgive you, but not beacuse I must.  Will you forgive me?” I asked.

“You know it, boy, and thanks for letting this insensitive old man off the hook.  I’m sorry I lied to you.  I’ll make you a promise, I won’t never do it again.  I’ll get Jeb for you,’” he said.

I waited a moment and heard Master Jeb on the other end.  “Is this my good slave-boy?” he asked.

“It is, indeed, your good slave-boy, Master Jeb.  It’s good to hear your voice again, sir.  Master Jeb, I got a favor to ask, and if you grant me this request I’ll be your grateful slave-boy,” I said.

“What is it, Son?” he asked with concern.

“Something unavoidable came up, and may I have an extension of an hour on our deadline agreement?” I asked.

“Of course, Son, how about eight o’clock?” he asked.

“Oh, gee, Master Jeb, that would really be great.  Thanks so much, and I’ll look forward to seeing you at eight or before and thanks again,” I said.

“No problem, Son, see you then,” he replied.

I returned to the other room half expecting to find Jake with his clothes off, but he was sitting on my bed with a long face. “Everything okay, Son?" he asked.

“Sure, dad, I just told them I’d be about an hour late.”

“Well, I’ll drink this and go, so you won’t be too late,” Jake said.

“Cut it out, dad, tell your boy what’s wrong,” I said as I began to rub his tired back, and he melted.

I thought he was going to cry. “Damn it, those guys at the shop need more help than I can give them most of the time.  You know why I go off with you on breaks and eat lunch?” I didn’t answer, I figured he’d tell me. “You’re the only mechanic there who will do the work I assign him, do it right the first time, and if you don’t know what your doing, you’ll ask.  I only have to tell you how to do it or show you once, and you’ve got it.  I never have to tell you again.  I can tell them bastards fifty times, and they still won’t remember how to do something,” he lamented.

“C’moan, dad, relax.  Take your coveralls off and let your boy rub your back,” I said.  He undid his coveralls and pulled them down around his waist, and quickly took off his shirt and undershirt.  I told him to lie on his stomach on the bed.  He stretched out with a sigh, and I started to rub his back.  After about fifteen minutes of some intense back rubbing he was beginning to loosen up.  He rolled over and looked at me.  “I don’t think your old dad could do you justice this afternoon, anyway.  Beside,” he said laughing, “you should be good for another two days,” he said and bragged.

“You got that right, woah!  The way you fucked me yesterday, damn,” I said and rolled my eyes.  He smiled and looked thoughtful.  I looked at him.  “Dad, will you let your boy do something for you to show you how much he appreciates you?” I asked.

“What’s that, Son?” he asked.

“Lie back, close you eyes, and let your boy suck you off,” I said quietly.

“Don’t have to ask twice, kid, you got it,” Jake said.

He unzipped his coveralls the rest of the way and pulled them down over his big work boots, and he was nude from his boots up.  He got up on my leather bedspread and fluffed a pillow under his head getting ready for his blow job.  Damn, he was a hot man.  Every time I see him in his coveralls, I know what’s underneath, and lately I’ve been popping a boner seeing him walk around at work in them damn things.  I started on his boots, and he watched with fascination as I licked oil, grease, and grim from his big hot boots.  He surprised me when he held one up I finished and just pointed to the bottom.  I didn’t hesitate, I cleaned the bottoms of all grease, oil, and grime.  Then started on the other, and he made damn sure I cleaned the bottom of that one, too.

My work-dad, my boss-man, was being imprinted with control.  He enjoyed it because he knew I liked it.  It bonded us even tighter as a unit and a team.  I liked his control at work, and I loved the control he was beginning to feel bold enough to assert with me in private.  I worked my way up his hairy Italian legs and buried my face in his ass.  I put my arms under him and raised his ass to my face.  His eyes widened as he watched me dive into his ass cleaning and sucking on his tight hole, I thought he was going up the wall.  I took my thumbs and spread his sphincter and got my tongue way up in there and started licking and cleaning him.  He started moaning then began moving his hips to fuck my tongue with his hole.  I spread ‘em further, and got some fine masculine flavors out of my dad.

When I finished I notice his cock was raging hard.  I kissed it, then cleaned his balls real good.  They tasted like he smelled, a good healthy man-sweat smell, and I licked until I couldn’t taste any more.  I got it all.  Damn, I was really getting into serving this man.  I wasn’t going to hold back from my dad who needed me right then in the worst way.  I took him with one lunge down my throat.  I never had a gag response like so many.  I took him as far down my throat as I could then just used my neck and throat muscles to fuck his dick.  I kept taking more of him, then more down my throat until my lips pressed tight against his bear fur at his crotch.  He looked down and saw his dick completely down my throat.  He took his hands and place them on each side of my throat to feel the stretch of his cock inside.  He leaned forward and slid down my throat about an inch more.  Suddenly, I could feel his come hurrying up the shaft as he lay back and moaned to God and any saint that might be near enough to hear.  I felt his hot come way in the back of my throat, past any point of tasting.

I held it there as he got his breath.  Then I gently pulled off.  As I did he shot again, but I was quick enough to catch him in my mouth.  Damn, he tasted good.  It was strong and flavorful.  His flavor.  My boss-man's unique flavor.  I crawled up and laid my head on his big chest.  “Thanks, dad, for letting me suck you off.”

“What can I say, Son.  You took all the pain away,” Jake said.  Then he said the strangest thing.  “You know, Son, I hope your other dad is good to you.  You need a good man to serve, and yes, I would let my little bro suck me off if he wanted to,” he said laughing.

I was really concerned about possibly leaving my new dad behind.  I bonded with Jake.  I loved him as a friend; not passionately, hell he had a wife, for Christ sake.  We were fuck buddies, and I was happy with that.  I walked proud at work.  Jake’s affection and camaraderie made me feel useful, needed, helpful, and wanted.  Together, we were like two kids who shared a secret.  Sam knew something was up, but he didn’t have a clue as to what.  At least I didn’t think he did.  One morning Jake and I were in early.  I was helping Jake get a job out Sam wanted done yesterday, and he came around to check our progress.  Jake and I worked together like a surgical team.  We were fast and accurate.  We diagnosed the patient, opened him up, repaired the innards, closed, and were done.  We were working our asses off trying to get the job done as quickly as possible.  Jake and I were in each other’s faces talking about what we had to do next and the fastest way to get it done.  I always let him lead while I gave suggestions.  The flow which passed between us was easily recognizable if you knew what to look for.

Sam looked at the two of us and got a funny look on his face.  “Is Jake fucking you, Beau?” he asked like a thunder bolt out of a clear blue sky.

“Jake, fucking me?  Yeah, right.  Sure he is, Sam.  He checks my oil, gives me a lube job, checks my spark plug to make sure it fires every time, and keeps my motor running hot.  Don’ cha, Boss-man— honey?”  I added as an afterthough.  I quickly looked at Jake, winked, and he knew to go along with my bullshit.  We sarted laughing.  We were holding each other we were laughing so hard.

“We better check it again soon, kid, I think you may be a quart low.  I’m sure Sam is,” Jake said, nodded toward Sam, and grinned.  We started laughing again until we had Sam laughing with us.

Sam roared with laughter and finally got himself together.  “God, you two... ” he said as he walked away shaking his head.  He never asked again.  If dad could’ve thrown his arms around me and kissed me, that would have been the moment.  We talked and laughed about that morning for years.  At least we didn’t lie to the man.  I admitted Jake was fucking me.

I never thought I’d come to love working in a garage so much, but I found out I had a natural aptitude for the work.  Hell, it wasn’t so much different from making sure you got all of a man’s guts back in the right places when you shoveled them back in after he was blown apart.  You just had to pay attention to what you were doing or he wouldn’t work right after you closed him up.  I didn’t want to leave Jake, Sam, or a couple of the other men I befriended.  I shouldn’t have worried too much.  Somehow, the people you really love have a way of recycling in your life and my new dad, Jake, would play a major role in mine.  We would somehow met in the middle of our two separate worlds and grow from our friendship.

I was able to ask dad’s counsel on anything.  No matter how bizarre it might seem to him at first, he never turned away, and always listened.  He asked intelligent questions if he didn’t quite understand a concept, and then gave me his best shot at advice from his knowledge of me and how he perceived me.  I never again shocked him with anything.  He told me our friendship gave him new thoughts about what family and friends really were and how they became meaningful to us.  He told me one day he heard the term, 'extended family' but never learned what it meant.  After making friends with me, he told me he understood.  He came to consider me part of his family.  No man ever offered me a greater compliment.


Part VI ~ Zero Hour

Could you walk a little faster, said the whiting to the snail, There’s a porpoise close behind me, and he’s treading on my tail. ~ Lewis Carroll

After Jake left my apartment, I quickly showered.  It was seven-ten.  If I hurried I could just make it.  I threw my shit together in my saddle bags and pulled on my leathers.  If I was going to agree to this I was going to look hot upon my arrival.  I checked in the mirror and thought, ‘There’s nothing wrong with that picture.’  I always looked hot in my leathers.  I glanced at the clock; seven twenty-five.  Shit, I better get on my bike and go.  I went to the garage and cranked Pegasus, my winged horse, or Barbara Beezer when I was unhappy with her, and headed out to Mount Washington.  I started around the lake (Silverlake) and thought, ‘I’d better punch it in the butt to make up some time.'  I probably was doing about eighty-five when I saw another biker pull in behind me.  All of a sudden his bike lit up like the mother ship from ‘Close Encounters’ and I thought, ‘Oh shit, a cop!’  He pulled me over and parked his bike behind mine about fifteen feet.  He slowly got off his bike and was unbuckling his helmet as he swaggered towards me.  He threw his hips forward, his shoulders thrown back, and assumed an attitude that would make a fearless man wince.

“Going a little fast ‘round the lake, there, weren’t cha,' Son?" he asked rhetorically.

‘Duh!’  I thought,  ‘Eighty-five in a thirty mile zone?  No, not too fast for my bike, sir.  How ‘bout  yours?’ “Uh! I’m sorry, sir.  Guess I was pushing it a bit; maybe a little over the speed limit, but I’m late.  I’m late for a very important date,” I said and stood biting my tongue in horror.  How stupid could I be unwittingly quoting Lewis Carroll to the man?

I swear by all that’s holy without taking a breath he replied, “Your fuzzy ears and whiskers take you too much time to shave?” he asked.

There was a long silent pause when neither of us knew what was coming next.  I broke the silence with a guffaw of laughter.  I bent over double laughing and so did he.  He reached out, put his hand on my shoulder and made contact.  An electric charge went through my body.  The ice was definitely broken between us.  “Okay, Son, I’m gonna’ have to write you a ticket, but I’ll go easy on you.  Let’s say you were ten miles over the speed limit, forty miles an hour,” he said, smiled at me, and got out his pad.

“Thank you, sir, could I do something for you sometime, maybe clean your boots for ya’?” I looked at the handsome cop like a lost  puppy.  I swear to God I don’t know to this day where that came from, what made me blurt it out, but when I realized what I said I started blushing big time.  My face turned beet red, and he started laughing again.

He looked at me funny for a moment, looked at my leathers, and had my number.  “It could be arranged,” he replied and smiled wryly.  He finished writing the ticket, I signed it, and he handed it to me.  “You’re a fine looking young man, especially in those leathers.  You remind me of a close friend who's top waddie on a big ranch in Tucson,” he said. What he said next made me leak piss in my leather pants.  “Are you owned by a good master, Son?” he asked and smiled knowingly.

“Naw, sir, I's on my way to give myself for training.  That's why I was speeding.  I got me a deadline of eight o’clock, and I'm late," I said.

“That is an important date.  A very important date,” he said and smiled again, “You on your way to Jebediah Henshaw’s place?" the handsome officer asked.

“Yes, sir, do you know, Master Jeb?” I asked.

“You might say that,” he said as he looked at his watch, “Hell, Son, it’s five past eight now.  Get on your bike and follow me.  I’ll get chu’ there so you won’t be too late.”

He spun on the heel of his highly polished boots and quickly headed for his bike, buckling his helmet on the way.  I got on my bike, waited for him, and he took the lead.  With siren screaming, lights flashing we went through red lights, and were traveling well over the speed limit.  He led me to Master Jeb’s front door in ten minutes flat.  I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life.  Big Jim and Master Jeb came out to see what the uproar was about and there we were.  Officer Earl D. Shaw stopped his bike, got off, swaggered over to me, and handed me his card.  “When does your training begin, Son?” he asked.

“In one month, sir, if they agree to accept me,” I replied.

“Call to set up an appointment to clean my boots, and wear those leathers, understand, Son?” he asked and grinned real big.

“Yes, sir, Master,” I replied.

He smiled at my response.  “I have no doubt they'll accept you for training.  You’ll do fine, Son.  Good luck to you,” he said, waved to Jim and Jeb and started walking toward them.

Jeb called to him, “Earl D. Shaw, ain’t seen you in while.  Damn good to see you again, Son.  We missed you.  How the hell are you?  Heard you been traveling to the desert, Vegas, and Tucson.” They shook hands and the officer held out his hand to Big Jim.

“Hey, Jim.  Damn, good to see you again.  It’s been a couple of months.  We saw each other last in Tucson at Dan and Cowboys.  How you been, Big Man?" he asked.

“Good, Earl, real good.  You’re looking fine as ever.  Things going well for you?” Jim asked.

“Better, better.  They picked up considerably about fifteen minutes ago when I stopped your boy, here, on the lake doing eighty-five in a thirty mile an hour zone.  Gave him a ticket for ten over.  Said he was late for an important date.  He said your name, and I figured it wouldn’t do to have such a fine looking young man be late for his future,” Officer Shaw said.

“Damn nice of you, Earl D., to help out like that.  He give you any trouble?” Master Jeb asked.

“On the contrary.  One of the most polite, courteous, attractive, young slave potentials I’ve encountered in a long time.  Will you be training him?” Earl asked.

“He ain’t given us his decision yet, but we’re hoping so,” Big Jim replied.

“He will.  He was in too big of a hurry just to tell you no.  Will you be keeping him or selling him?" Officer Shaw asked.

“He’ll be offered on the market after training,” Master Jeb replied.

“Good, here’s my card with my address and phone number.  I’m sure I’ve given it to you a hundred times, but just in case you lost it.  I’d appreciate you notifying me when be becomes available.  Damn, he looks like a dead ringer for the cowboy, don’t he?” Officer Shaw asked.

“Jim and I noticed that, too, Earl.  Yes, he could be his brother.  Wait’ll Big Gunn meets him.  That should be interesting," Jeb replied.

“To say nothing of Beryl,” Officer Shaw said and the three men laughed.

Holy shit, I’d never been shown that much attention in my life.  The man was asking about me like I was a prize pig that would be sold at auction after training.  How could I say no to training after this stroke of luck?  He was fucking gorgeous, and he was interested in me.  ME!

“Thanks again, Officer Shaw,” I said and raised my hand to wave as he walked to his bike.  He turned, smiled at me, waved back, got on his bike and was gone.

“Earl D. is one handsome son of a bitch,” Big Jim commented.

“What’da ya' think, Beau?” Master Jeb asked.

“Yes, sir, he’s all right if you like pretty men," I said quietly without giving too much.

“What kind a’ man you find attractive, boy?” Big Jim asked.

“Master Jeb,”  I replied sweetly, smiling at the giant.  Master Jeb let out a whoop you could’ve heard for a block.  Big Jim grinned in defeat.

“You do know the right shit to say, boy, even if you don’t mean it,” Master Jeb said and laughed as he hugged me.

The giant walked over and stood squarely in front of me.  “What do you have for your giant, Son?” he leaned down to look into my eyes

“A present.  It ain’t worth much but it’s from the heart,” I said.

“What would that be, boy?" Big Jim asked.

I threw my arms around his huge neck and gently kissed him.  He grabbed me up in both arms.  I was resting on his huge chest as he began to kiss me back. “That’s worth more than you know, Son.  Thanks for your gift,” he said barely above a whisper.

We walked inside laughing and talking.  Master Jeb asked if I wanted a drink. “Yes, sir, please.  Anything with Vodka,” I replied.

I threw my saddle bags over the back of the couch and set down.  Big Jim set on the couch next to me.  I was lost.  I was doomed.  There was no hope for me.  The smell of the giant man was making my cock rock hard again.  Never has any human being had such an effect on me.  Jake smells great, strong, and masculine, but this man overpowered all my thoughts, emotions, and senses.  Master Jeb came back with my drink and smiled.  “Beau, do you always arrive with a motorcycle escort?” he asked and threw his head back in laughter.

“Well, Master Jeb, I didn’t wanna' be late, and I was pushing the speed just a bit,” I replied.  We all laughed.

“I won’t beat around the bush, Son, have you come to a decision?" he asked.

“Yes, sir, I have.  May I remove my clothes, sir?” I asked.

"I should have offered you that option when you arrived.  Of course you may.  Do as your heart tells you,” Master Jeb replied.  I quickly undressed, laying my clothes and leathers on the back of the sofa, down to the cock and ball harness.  Master Jeb raised an eyebrow and looked at Big Jim.  I knew Big Jim didn’t tell Master Jeb about the harness and plug.

Big Jim grabbed me around the waist, bent me over to check my plug and laughed.  “I knew you’d wear it back,” he said.  He seemed pleased with himself.

I walked to Master Jeb and knelt in front of him.  I took his right hand and placed it on my heart, covering his hand with both of mine.  “Master Jeb, you told me I have the heart of a slave.  I didn’t believe you until this week.  I believe you now.  Not only because of your influence but things in my past you don’t know about.  Therefore, I give you my heart, this slave’s heart, to shape, to mold, to train as you see fit.  From this moment on, until it’s decided what my future will be, this heart, this slave belongs to you and no other,” I said, took his hand, and kissed the back of it.

There was a long silence for a moment.  Master Jeb, with tears rolling down his cheeks, said in a cracked voice,  “Damn, Son, no man ever gave himself into slavery or my trust with such honesty, sincerity, and eloquence as you just did.  I told you, you're a natural born slave.  Do you believe me now?” he asked.

“Yes, Master Jeb, I do,” I replied.

“And so do I," I heard Big Jim say under his breath.

“I accept you as my slave to train, Son.  A natural slave doesn’t need a great deal of training.  I think you’ll become a joy for both of us.

“This is no time for tears.  Let’s celebrate our newest member of a select group of men who can appreciate the finer qualities of Master/slave relationships,” Master Jim said, and celebrate we did.


End of Chapter 3 ~ The Ties That Bind
Copyright © 2000 ~ 2011 ~ Waddie Greywolf
All Rights Reserved ~
Mail to: <waddiebear@yahoo.com>
Proofed: 04/27/2011
WC 20415