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Note: Any resemblance to real people is strictly coincidental. No real people are depicted in this piece of fiction. This story contains explicit male to male sex, domination and bondage. If you don't enjoy reading this sort of material or are under the age of 21, DO NOT CONTINUE READING. If you regard this type of material as depraved then flee from here and don't look back! And be sure that you practice safer sex. Don't become another statistic in the rising HIV/STD rates. Don't be barebacking: it's your LIFE you're playing with.
Greg raised himself up from Blake's heaving back and pulled his softening penis out of the cop-slave's hot, pulsing hole. Frank shuddered one more time and pulled his flushed, sloppy rod out of Blake's mouth and stood back, gasping for breath. The milker lying beneath Blake's quivering form moaned loudly as he slurped up the man milk coating the heavy cock hanging over his head, for the man-cow working the milker's cock squeezed his dick between his tongue and the roof of his mouth as he pulled off him one last time drawing a final spurt of cream and a trembling moan from his customer who pulled even harder at Blake's cock in response. Blake whimpered quietly, lost in a haze of sexual satiety. The cocks that had been filling his mouth and hole were gone. The mouth on his own cock was gone. All he wanted was to have them all back. The only thing in his brain at that moment was cock.
The audience remained in stunned silence for a few moments; they'd seldom witnessed such a feat of milking prowess before: four men had had a simultaneous orgasm! For the Milk Bar clientele, seeing simultaneous orgasms between two men was almost commonplace since the Milk Bar's man-cows were so well conditioned both to bring about a customer's coming and delay their own. They were trained in good timing. So the experienced members of the herd were quite capable of shooting at the instant their clients came. But four guys at the same time? That was a masterpiece of timing and restraint (so to speak). So for a few moments, the only sound heard in the hall was the heavy breathing of the "performers". Then, suddenly, a roar swept over the man-cows and the lucky milker as the audience broke into wild applause and cheering.
Burt strode onto the stage and assisted the happy, panting client from under the table. He stood beside him and raised his arm over his head like the winner of a boxing match as the crowd cheered and whistled. The golden man raised both hands in triumph and licked the man cream off of his lips before Burt threw a robe over his shoulders and escorted him to the edge of the stage and handed him off to a pair of handlers who took him to the bar for a drink and a breather.
Burt returned and ordered Greg and Frank to free Blake from his bonds. Once he was free, Blake sat on the edge of the table still breathing hard. The Milk Bar conditioning, programming, combined with his having been thrown together with Frank in a traumatic experience and being taken by three different men at the same time, served to leave him quite disoriented. He had always been sure he was straight; had always been attracted to women and had fantasized about women. But now things seemed different. He felt a deep bond with Frank and, more significantly, Frank's penis. The thought of Frank's dick, hard and needy, made him hard too. Did that mean he was gay? He didn't know what to think, but as his thoughts swirled around, he trembled with desire for Frank. The red-headed cop, sensing his anxiety, moved closer to him and pulled the confused cop toward his body. Blake leaned over and rested his head on Frank's furry chest looking for a little rest. But there would be no time for rest, for Burt knew that to cement the newest recruit as a member of the herd, he had to continue pushing him, keeping him off- balance and tired. By the time the night was over, Lt. Blake Thompson would be as queer as a three dollar bill. He'd also be hopelessly in love with Officer Frank Clark, but they could work that out of the equation later. Get him bound to a man and then help him to branch out.
Burt pulled Blake to his feet. "Gentlemen," he announced, "for our next demonstration, we have something entirely new. We will present `the Milk and the Martyrdom of St. Andrew' for your enjoyment." The curtain at the back of the stage parted, exposing a wooden St. Andrew's cross to which Burt led Blake. The cross was slightly off of the floor and had a small platform at the end of each of the lower arms. Burt backed Blake up and directed him to step up onto the platforms. Then he and his assistants shackled Blake's wrists and ankles to the beams. Burt and his assistants wrapped leather straps around the arms of the cross and Blake's limbs, firmly and securely binding him in place. Then Burt stood back and, taking one arm of the cross, gave a great pull, sending the cross and its captive spinning around like a wheel. Blake closed his eyes as his world turned upside down, right side up, upside down again. Finally, the spinning stopped and he realized he was upside down, his head where his dick should be and vice versa.. Maybe this was the way it was supposed to be, he thought for a wry moment.
"And now, gentlemen," Burt was announcing "our `martyr' for this event is coming to the stage." From the wings, another of the Milk Bar's customers stepped onto the stage. He appeared to be in his late 40s or perhaps early 50s. He stood about six feet tall and was trim but well-built. His salt-and-pepper hair was cut short but long enough to direct toward one side with a comb. His gray suit was expertly tailored and obviously made to fit his fine body. He had every appearance of a man who was used to giving orders and having them followed. Addressing him as "Sir" seemed the most natural thing in the world to most men. As he turned to face the audience, a naked helper from the herd stepped behind him and slipped his jacket off his shoulders. His pale lavender shirt was also custom-made with simple gold-knot cuff links and a muted gray and lavender silk tie knotted at his throat. As this handsome man with chiseled features held his arms away from his sides, the helper knelt to undo the cuff links. Then he rose to loosen and remove the man's tie which he carefully folded and handed to another slave. Then he unbuttoned the man's shirt, stepped behind him and pulled it from his body, exposing his salt-and-pepper furred chest with nipples that poked out of the hair. The next step was for the slave to kneel and untie the man's shoes and pull them from his feet. The slave lowered his head to the man's feet and, after kissing them, placed his forehead on top them. The man bent and touched the slave's head, granting permission for him to continue his undressing. The slave held first the man's right foot, then his left to remove the man's socks which he folded and placed carefully in the shoes. These he handed to his assistant who carried them off-stage. The undresser remained on his knees, placed his hands around the man's hips and reverently placed them on the curves of his "Master's" ass then, opening his mouth, placed his lips against his bulge. The Master placed his own hands on the back of the slave's head. The slave took the man's zipper pull between his teeth and lowered himself by sitting down on his heels, opening the man's fly. Releasing the zipper, he unbuckled the man's belt and unfastened the hook on his trousers. He lowered them to the man's knees and paused while his `Master' placed his hand on the slave's head and stepped out of his pants. His cock was already filling with blood and pressing hard against his white silk briefs. Again, the slave knelt up and leaned forward to place his mouth on the Master's crotch. Then taking the waistband of the Master's shorts in his teeth, settled back again to pull the briefs down. The Master's large, thick cock sprang up and bounced against his love trail, leaving a splatter of pre-cum to slick down the hair. The slave bowed his head to the floor, dragging the Master's briefs down with his teeth and the Master stepped out of them. He stood there magnificent in his readiness, his thick cock bobbing above his heavy ball sack, his sculpted, furred chest rising and falling in his arousal. At last, the slave led him to the suspended cop.
The Master's turgid dick brushed against Blake's lips, leaving sticky pre-cum coating them. The Master reached down and used his leaking cock to paint Blake's lips with his man's lip- gloss. "Good boy," he murmured. "How's my slave tonight? Are you ready to serve your Master well?" Blake licked his lips and opened his mouth wide saying "Please Sir. Please let me suck it Sir. Please put it in my mouth." But first the Master moved close and pulled up his milk sack to place his balls in Blake's mouth. The cop slave stretched his jaws wide to take both large balls at once. He had to strain to do it, but he managed to open wide enough for the Master's balls to nestle inside his mouth. Blake bathed them and massaged them with his tongue while the Master reached down and grasped the man cow's tits. Blake moaned with desire and worked the milk balls in his mouth all the harder. He wanted their treasure in his mouth and flowing down his throat. He wanted to milk their owner, their Master, his Master and have his mouth filled with his Master's hard dick. He wanted his Master to torture his tits and find pleasure in giving his cop-slave pain. And so he groaned and squirmed, he squealed and milked, wanting only to be used and filled.
The Master pulled his balls out of the slave's mouth and stood back, raising his arms and turning to face the audience. Another St. Andrew's descended from the flies until it came to a stop behind the Master. Then the two assisting slaves came out from the wings and guided the Master back onto the cross where he was gently bound to its arms. Once he was secure, his cross was raised and the slaves moved it over until it was close to where Blake hung. The slaves carefully guided the Master's cross forward until his body and the cop-slave's body were touching. Then the two assistants took the Master's heavy penis and pressed it against Blake's lips. Blake obediently opened his mouth and took the Master's cock. The assistant turned to Burt and whispered "Are you sure this is safe? We've never done anything like this before." "It's fine," Burt hissed back. "We need something new. Just do it." Then he spoke into the microphone. "And now gentlemen - the martyrdom of St. Andrew! The slave will do his utmost to milk his Master into nirvana, into the otherworldly ecstasy that only such martyrdom can bring!" A cheer went up from the audience as Blake, suddenly knowing what was expected of him, began to suck on the meat spreading his jaws. His head was pounding as down- rushing blood made him appear almost purple in color. But he had his mission and he knew there would be no relief until he had taken his Master over the top. So he sucked and milked for all he was worth as his blood pounded in his ears. The Master's moans and his own slurping and sucking noises rose above the murmurs of the crowd. By now, Mr. Delaney was standing at the bar, his arms crossed nervously across his chest, a dark frown on his face. He didn't like the deep color of his latest addition's complexion. If something went wrong, there's be hell to pay!
As Blake worked the Master's hard, hot flesh and pre-cum flowed out of his piss-slit like honey, his own already over- worked member was rising once again. "Please," he thought, "not again. It huts! I need to rest." But the Master had no concern for whether or not the slave was hurting. Suddenly, Blake felt lips surrounding his aching cock and knew that he was going to be taken yet again. He squealed in pain and consternation. Please, not again! It hurts too much. As his bursting cock was taken into his Master's demanding mouth, he bucked and thrashed, trying to escape from the stimulation. But he knew there was only one escape and so he breathed deeply and tried to focus on the man meat in his mouth. "Hurry," he thought, "just get it over with and he'll let you go!" So he increased his energies and worked the flesh filling his throat, doing everything he could think of to bring his Master off. Finally, when he thought his own penis might fall off, he felt the spasms of an orgasm flowing through the cock in his mouth. He moaned unconsciously, knowing that relief was in sight and pulled harder to take his Master over the top. Master released his pain-filled cock and screamed in release as Blake's mouth was filled with his rich warm man-milk. Blake swallowed over and over again, trying to keep up with the flow but he could not, and being upside down, the cum flowed downward into his nasal passages and spewed out through his nose. He started choking but only drew cum when he inhaled. The cop-slave couldn't breath and as the room began to fade to black, the cock disappeared from his mouth. Blake gasped desperately for air, choking on the cum that filled his throat. As he struggled to pull air into his burning lungs he felt himself being spun back to the upright. The rushing in his ears mixed with the sounds of clamorous cheering as his head swam in bright stars. "You OK?" he heard someone ask him as the straps binding him to the cross were released. "I-I-I th." And Lt. Blake Thompson, man-cow collapsed to the stage. Just before his face crashed into the floor, he heard Frank cry out "Blake!"
Blake's head hurt like hell and his mouth tasted like shit. God, what had happened? What had he done? He didn't remember going on a bender, so why did he feel so hung-over? He groaned and rolled over, feeling a strange prickliness under his naked body. Why was he naked? What the hell was going on? He tried to open his eyes but the stabbing pain from the bright lights forced them shut again and pulling a sharp cry from his mouth. "Ssshhhh, shhhh. Go slow. Here drink this." Frank Clark was whispering quietly to him, stroking his head and pressing a rubber nipple to his lips. Blake groaned again and opened his mouth to take the teat. As he drank the soothing warm liquid, Frank continued to stroke his head and cheek. "You OK Blake? God, I was worried." "What happened?" Blake croaked. "You had quite a trip there bud. But you're OK. Mr. Delaney was mad as hell for what they did to you. Said they could've lost a valuable member of the herd because someone didn't test the scene out before they tried it on-stage. He tore into Burt. God, you looked bad there for a few minutes. Scared the shit out of me - out of all of us. Good thing they have an EMT on staff. He's usually there for the clients but he knew what to do. Got you breathing again in no time." Frank was talking fast, too fast and Blake held a hand up to his mouth to shush him. "Quiet," he pleaded. "God my head hurts."
Blake was trying desperately to process what he was hearing and put together the pieces of what Frank was saying with what he remembered. He'd been upside down, choking on cum. He felt like he was about to die! Blake grabbed Frank's hand and opened his eyes, locking on Frank's worried face. "I'm OK though aren't I? I just passed out, right?" "You almost drowned on his cum," Frank said. "The medic said you'd probably be coughing it up for a couple of days but it'll all come out and you'll be none the worse for it. Just told them not to work you too hard for a while." Frank stroked Blake's forehead and looked into his eyes. "God I was worried. Thank God you're OK." Blake gave him a wan smile. "Yeah," he said. "I'm glad. And I'm glad you're here." Blake coughed a couple of times and then was wracked by a coughing fit that curled him up double. Frank grabbed him, pulled him onto his lap and held him to his chest, trying to absorb the spasms. Finally, Blake sagged back against Frank's body and groaned. "God, that tastes like shit," he said, swallowing hard to get the cum-tainted phlegm out of his mouth. "I know, Blake. I know," Frank murmured, gathering Blake into his arms. Blake lay across Frank's lap, cradled in his arms. It felt so comforting to have Frank hold him like this. Like he was a little boy again and Frank was his Daddy. He closed his eyes, draped an arm across Frank's arms and fell asleep. Frank sat there looking down at his sleeping face, tears welling in his eyes. He bent to kiss Blake's mouth and bending across him to cover his body, slowly rocked him back and forth, listening to Blake's soft breathing.
Greg had helped them take Blake downstairs and stayed to make sure he was breathing alright. Then, satisfied that Blake would be OK and that Frank would look after him, Greg headed back upstairs. With Blake's collapse, they'd closed the curtains to shut off the stage from the customers. No need to alarm them any further. An announcement was made that the man-cow had revived and would be fine as met with applause and after a few minutes, the evening's activities returned to normal. As Greg mounted the stairs he could hear the usual sounds of sucking and groaning and whippings going on in the various rooms and tables in the main lounge area. As he entered the room, he saw Harry who beckoned him over. "There's a customer in the booth over there who's requested your services," he said and nodded toward one of the secluded booths against the wall of the lounge. Greg glanced over and saw a familiar profile but he couldn't be sure who it was in the low light of the Milk Bar. He nodded to Harry and moved across the room to the booth.
As he approached, he said "Sir, you've re.." Greg stopped mid-sentence, for when the customer turned to him, he saw Jim Downing. "Jim!" he said, amazed. "Jim, I'm so happy to see you!" "Quiet boy. Get down and show proper respect for your Master." "Yes Sir," Greg said, slightly taken aback, and fell to his knees, hands behind his back, head down. He'd forgotten his place and he was ashamed. "Open my fly and get my cock in your mouth. No hands!" his Master ordered. Obediently, Greg reached forward with his mouth and, grabbing the zipper pull in his teeth, pulled Master's fly open. Then he used his tongue and chin to find his way into Master's shorts and extract his large, heavy cock. When it was finally exposed, glowing in the dim light, for a few moments, the man-cow feasted his eyes on the cock he worshipped, and then did his obeisance, worshipping it with his tongue before taking it down his throat. Once he was impaled on it, his Master spoke to him again.
"I see that Burt followed orders this time and removed your recognition block. It's a good thing for him too because it almost cost him his job the last time. Tonight may finish it for him though. I've never seen Delaney so angry. I wasn't real thrilled myself. Almost lost a potentially great man-cow and a cop to boot. How would we have explained that to the Commissioner? Having a cop die, choking on a man's cum? That would have done it for us. We'd have been closed for sure and probably gone to jail." Greg was listening but, with his Master's dick filling his mouth, wasn't doing any talking. He could only look up at Jim and nod slightly to acknowledge that he heard. He didn't quite understand but he was beginning to put the pieces together. His Master and lover, Jim Downing was not only a deputy mayor but was also deeply involved in the running of the Milk Bar. Was the mayor? Did he know what went on here? Greg would just have to keep listening or he could ask Jim later. But there were no questions for now: he was too busy and his mouth was otherwise occupied. And besides, at that moment, he was a slave and slaves don't ask questions.
"I'm glad you know me boy," Jim was saying. He took Greg's tits in his hands and began to pinch and twist them, bringing a spasm from Greg's throat making him tighten down on his Master's cock. "Ahh yesssss," he sighed, "I love being in your throat." Inside, Greg smiled; he loved having Master's cock in his throat. They were both happy! "Come on boy," Jim said, pulling his stiff, wet dick out of Greg's mouth with a plop. "Let's find a room. I want to fuck you till you think I'm coming out of your mouth." "Yes Sir. Thank You Sir," Greg answered, wiping the spit off his mouth and rose to find a vacant room. The only thing better than having his Master's cock down his throat was having it up his chute where he could really please him. He wasn't a senior man-cow for nothing!
Later, Jim was untying him and removing the tit-clamps from the man-cow's sore nipples. "I have a dinner engagement tomorrow evening so I'll see you at home Sunday morning. Spend the night here but be home early and we'll go out for breakfast. Then we'll come back and think up some fun things to do. I miss you when you're working." "Yes Sir. Thank You Sir. I miss You too," Greg said, rising and stretching his cramped muscles, enjoying the emptiness in his ass because it reminded him how much he loved having it filled by his Master. Jim took him in his arms and pulled him to his furry chest. "Greg, Greg, my love. Tell me that you love me," Jim said, his eyes searching Greg's. Greg put his arms around his lover. "You're my life," he whispered. "You're the world to me. You're my Master and my lover. I love you more than life itself." And the two men crushed their bodies together in the heat of their passionate kiss.
Greg dressed Jim and they went out into the lounge area together. Jim headed toward the door with Greg following behind. "Goodnight boy," Jim said and holding Greg close, kissed him goodbye. Then he turned and was out the door. Greg stared after him for a few moments, feeling empty and forlorn. Then he turned back to the room and saw Burt across the floor, standing at the top of the stairs, his hand on the doorknob staring hard at Greg. His eyes were black and Greg felt like they cut through him. It was almost like a physical pain. Then Burt was through the door and down the stairs. Greg noticed that he held a gym bag in one hand and suddenly realized that Burt was leaving the Milk Bar for good. He glanced back to Delaney's office and saw him standing there, scowling darkly after Burt. Then he turned back to his office and quietly closed the door.