Istari

Mastering Alex

Chapters 15-24

Robert first handed me several keys, more for my growing collection, that obviously went to the finely made cedar boxes. One had its corners covered in black leather, the other in metal, indicating the contents of each. Both were quite large. Michael had carried the one with the metal bindings, the weight of which was obviously quite substantial. I opened that box first.

I heard Alex exclaim "Wow" under his breath.

Those were my sentiments exactly. Robert had outdone himself. I just stared in silent appreciation for a moment. I could hear Alex breathing rapidly as he looked on behind me. The 'metal' box, as we would come to call it, contained first and foremost an iron collar. It was quite beautiful, smooth and burnished and plated in silver, an exquisite work of craftsmanship. What struck me most though was its small size. It was surely no more than four and one-half inches [11 cm] in diameter, probably less. It seemed so strange to see it so small, but of course it was made for a boy, not a man. It sat in the very center of the box, which was lined with fine black velvet.

Alex knelt down to get a closer look. He gazed up at me for permission, then gently ran his fingers over the collar.

"It's going to be a perfect fit, Alex," I said. "Robert made it just for you."

"I thought the silver-plating suited him," Robert offered. "He'll need something that shines as brightly as he does."

Alex turned to him sharply, surprised by such kind words. He gave Robert a quick bow, something that always seemed to delight the older man. Alex knew it and played it perfectly. I gave him a gentle pat on the thigh to return his attention to the contents of the box.

Along with the magnificent collar, there was a pair of shackles. They were about three inches [7½ cm] in height, and no more than that in diameter, small to suit a boy's slender ankles. A thick silver chain, a little over one foot [30 cm] in length, lay between them, attached to rings in the irons themselves. There was also a slightly smaller pair with a similar chain, meant for Alex' wrists. There were spreader bars of different lengths, and one that could be adjusted, all of which would replace the chains on occasion. Last there was the thickest and longest chain of all, rolled neatly and tucked into a large pouch at the bottom of the box. It was a lead for his collar. Alex looked at me with moistening eyes.

"Put them on me, sir, please," he begged.

"Patience, Alex. We haven't even opened the other one yet."

When we did, Alex became a great deal more subdued.

"You see the difference, don't you, boy?" Robert asked gently. "Metal is cold and unforgiving, certainly, but it can't be fitted to the body. Leather on the other hand… "

The mere sight of it was arousing. For Alex it meant strict bondage from this day forward. I heard him take a deep breath. All of the leather pieces were in black, with silvery rings and buckles. I made up my mind instantly that I would keep him in this most of the time. Metal was for working out doors and nights spent in the barn, and perhaps special occasions when that silvery finish would show him off so perfectly.

I took the leather collar out first. It was two inches [5 cm] wide, with silver studs to match those on his chastity belt. There were three rings as well, one each on the front and sides, and a buckle in the back. Alex just stared at it.

"Stand up, Alex."

He'd been waiting for this all day. All his life perhaps. He stood straight and still and held his breath. We both of us felt the supreme weight of this moment. I put the collar around his neck, then reached behind him to buckle it. And just like that it was done. Tears fell from his eyes, and he was not ashamed to let anyone see them.

"You are now collared, young man," Robert said. "That is a great honor and a great responsibility. Your only duty now is to your master, who loves you a great deal."

Alex was weeping. "I know he does, sir."

"Obey him, and serve him with all of your heart and all of your soul."

"I will, sir."

"Don't tell me, tell your master."

Alex faced me and stood as tall as he could, all five feet [1.50 m] of him. "Master, I will obey you, and serve you, with all of my heart, and all of my soul." He put his hand over his chest when he said it. I nearly cried right there.

Robert then looked at me kindly. "And you, Steven. Teach this boy and protect him with all of your compassion and all of your strength."

"I will, Robert."

"Don't tell me, tell your slave."

I turned to my boy again. His eyes were dancing. "Alex, I will teach you and protect you, with all of my compassion, and all of my strength."

He threw his arms around me and I hugged him for a moment. He was so beautiful, so strong, and so brave. And he was not yet thirteen years old.

The harness came out of the box next. I held it up to him. Robert had kept it simple, and I knew it would suit my boy perfectly. Thick straps for over his shoulders and around his chest, joined at the front and back by large steel rings. The straps had smaller d-rings at various locations, allowing for a wide range of restraint. I buckled the shoulder straps first, then tightened the chest straps over his ribs. I made sure they were a little more than snug, just enough to restrict his breathing a little. That gave the boy a thrill, and he looked at me with wide eyes.

"Too tight?" I asked.

"No, sir," he said, testing his ability to move and breathe in the harness. "Feels real good."

Next came his wrist cuffs. They were similar to the collar, studded, but with locking clasps rather than rings. The buckles were also a little bit different, for the ends of the loops were fed through a clasp designed to take a padlock. Once they were on, Alex would not be able to take them off. I put them both on, first his left wrist, then his right. The padlocks were of the same type that kept his chastity belt from coming off, and they used the same keys. I clicked them in place then took out the chain designed to go between them.

"The ends of the chain will go through the clasps," Robert explained. I pushed them in and they clicked in place. "There's a quick release on them, here," he pointed out the tiny release where the clasp was riveted to the cuff. "You can reach it easily, he can't reach it at all."

Robert was right. I told Alex to try and get the chain off by himself. He couldn't do it. The chain itself kept getting in his way. Only when his arms were down straight at his sides, was the clasp accessible.

"You'll find the clasps will also attach to the rings on his collar and his harness."

I released the chain for the moment and returned it to the box. Two more identical pieces caught my eye, and I pulled them out.

"Arm restraints, Steven," Robert explained. "You will find them very useful for punishment. You strap them on just below his biceps, above his elbows."

They were, by design and necessity, a lot tighter than the wrist cuffs. They dug into his skin just a bit. Again there were clasps and rings and I realized I could lock his arms down at his sides anytime I wanted to. I wanted to right now. I pressed in on his slender limbs and heard the clasps click with the rings on the chest straps of the harness. Alex found his arms instantly and completely immobilized. His eyes were wide and he was beginning to sweat.

The ankle cuffs were made in the same fashion and form as those on his wrists, again with small locks to ensure he could not remove them. I knelt down and put them on. After I'd secured the cuffs in place, I took a moment to rub my hands up and down Alexander's legs. Smooth and hairless and firm, tanned golden brown by the summer sun. My perfect boy.

"OK so far?"

A joyous little hum and his young voice answered me. "I'm always ok with you."

Robert himself presented the next item to me. Thigh cuffs. Ideal for binding his legs together, or immobilizing him in his bed. They accentuated his shapely young legs. Alex looked incredibly sexy in them.

Last from the box was the gag. It was a rubber ball, dark red in color, with slender straps for his head. For the first time I saw a little fear in Alexander's young eyes, the sudden overwhelming awareness that his bondage was total and that he could not free himself had begun to have its effect. He was trembling, and struggling just a bit to move to his arms.

"Open your mouth. Wider."

I put the ball into his mouth slowly. In the weeks and months and years that lay ahead for us, gagging him would become a swift and harsh daily ritual. Our first act, before anything else. But not today, not this very first time. It came last, the boy's final and most difficult sacrifice. Over the last three days, Alex had willingly surrendered every part of his body to me, except his voice. Now he was going to give that to me as well, freely. The boy's gift of himself touched me in a way I had not expected. Tears began to fall, and I could tell by the look in his eyes that he needed me to be gentle, and I was.

"Bite down, Alex."

He did.

I reached around behind his head and buckled the strap, pulling the gag tight and forcing the ball a little deeper into his mouth. His sweet innocent eyes filled with panic for just a moment.

"Breathe through your nose, sweetie," I whispered, tenderly rubbing his arms bound helpless to his sides. He calmed down right away. "Better?"

Alex nodded, and blinked once. I was impressed that he remembered.

And so it was done. I stood back, amazed at Alex' transformation, but also by the feeling that this was so right, so perfect, so true, something that fit and suited him so well. His muscular twelve-year-old body was tightly harnessed and restrained. His slender neck was collared. His cock and balls were encased in metallic chastity and forever out of his reach. His sweet young face, with those endearing freckles on his nose, and those wondrous hazel eyes, was in no way diminished by the ball-gag that filled his mouth.

"I love you, Alex," I said as I opened clasps on his armbands and freed him from his first taste of strict restraint. My gagged boy couldn't answer, but the look in his eyes spoke immense volumes and his arms quickly found their way around my waist.

Another box, similar to the first pair, still awaited our attention. Robert instructed Michael to open this one, and saw that the experienced master's planning had been quite meticulous. Everything I would need for Alex was here. They were, all of them, instruments of pain. With his perpetually dark sense of humor, Alex would take to calling it his 'Treasure Chest of Torture' in the coming weeks. There was, of course, a whip, long and slender. I said a quiet prayer of thanks that Robert hadn't included that thick and frightening monster I'd seen hanging on the wall of his supply room. Alex was years away from being ready for that kind of thing.

Along with the whip came a modest collection of its smaller cousins. I would need more as the months and years went by, but this was an excellent start. There was the mandatory cat-o-nine-tails, each of its slender ends tightly knotted. The handle was wrapped in brown leather. I took it from the box and swished it playfully around Alex' thighs a few times. Not enough to even make it snap, just a gentle brushing. He would feel its bite soon enough.

The rest of my inventory of discipline: A leather strap, two feet [60 cm] long and three inches [7½ cm] wide. A rectangular wooden paddle with holes drilled upon its surface. Robert had burned the name 'Alex' at the base of the handle. A small tawse, clearly meant for chastising the penis and testicles. There was also a slender cane, which Robert instructed me not to use until he taught me the proper technique.

"The cane can scar for life, Steven," he said darkly.

In spite or because of Robert's chilling words, Alex was drawn to it like a moth to the flame. I held it out to him and laid it across his outstretched hands. The boy could not take his eyes of it. So simple, so plain, so quietly elegant and symbolic of pain and suffering.

"It has teeth you cannot see," Robert explained. "Careful, boy. Don't let it bite you."

Alex returned it to me with a look of trepidation in his eyes. He genuinely feared this slender rod, more than anything else in the box.

After the cane came other fun accessories. A trio of dildoes, in small, medium and extremely large. Two sets of clamps with adjoining chains. A series of simple cock rings in various sizes, a leather ball spreader, a tiny mallet for beating the testicles, and finally a leather blindfold.

Clearly Robert expected Alex and me to be quite busy. We would not be disappointing him. He was like an impish schoolboy when it at last came time to open the two large crates that currently dominated our living room. I was about to send Alex out to get a crowbar, but Michael quietly produced one, seemingly out of nowhere. He smiled at us all softly.

"A resourceful slave is a credit to his master," Robert chuckled. "What would I do without you, Michael?"

The handsome young slave was wise enough to let that question go unanswered. With his master's permission, he pried open both of the crates. The first, and largest, contained a wooden contraption of some sort, the planks all disassembled and packaged with Robert's obsessive precision. I was not prepared to guess what it was, but I knew that by the end of the evening it would be residing in my living room. The second carton contained a wooden bench, about three feet [90 cm] long and two feet [60 cm] high. Michael gestured to Alex with two fingers, and together the young slaves lifted it from the crate.

Freed of its packaging I could better appreciate it. It was oak, stained a dark brown. Both ends were padded. It had six legs altogether, one on each corner naturally, and two in the very center for added strength. The legs at the ends had rings at various heights. Three leather straps hung from the right side of the bench. The first and widest, at the very center, was almost six inches [15 cm]. The other two were at each end.

"I built these for Michael," Robert said, gesturing to the crates, "when I first began training him. He has outgrown them. I wondered if I'd ever find a use for them again."

"Then let's put it to good use right now. I still haven't punished him for his misbehavior on the phone with you today."

Robert turned sharply and glared at Alex in mock anger. "Indeed? I saw his little red behind when I came in. I assumed you'd take care of that already."

"No. That was left over from this morning, wasn't it, kiddo?"

The boy's face blushed until it was as red as his well- punished rear. Silenced by the gag he nodded slowly.

"On the bench then, dear boy," Robert sang.

"On your back, please, Alex," I added.

The boy lay down and stretched himself out. The bench was only a foot [30 cm] wide, so his limbs naturally fell off on either side. I bound his wrist cuffs to the rings on the front legs of the bench. This pulled his arms down sharply. I could see the slight strain in his muscles and his shoulders, but I wasn't worried. I knew Alex liked things tight and stretchy. His ankles were locked down next. The bench was low enough that the balls of his feet just touched the floor as I clasped his ankle cuffs to the rings on the hind legs of the bench. Robert meanwhile was kind enough to pull the waist strap over Alex' stomach and tighten it down on the other side.

"Comfy?" I asked.

Alex made a soft purring sound and nodded vigorously that he was. As always, he tested his bondage with a few sharp jerks. I patted him on the thigh. "Don't go anywhere," I said. He rolled his eyes in classic adolescent fashion.

I returned to our 'torture' box and selected the less evil looking of the clamps, the leather strap, and the penis whip. Robert seemed pleased with my choices, if perhaps a little surprised. I think a small part of him believed I didn't have the stomach for this. I was pretty sure Alex thought so too, and Alex needed to be taught a lesson.

"What do you have in mind, Steven?" my mentor asked softly as I handed Michael the instruments of the boy's punishment. I kept the clamps in my hands and gazed down at Alex, his slender hairless body stretched and restrained on the bench. His eyes were wild and hungry.

"I think it's time Alex started learning about pain, don't you?"

The older man's bearded lips curled in a smile that was neither sweet nor gentle, one that was burned forever in my own brain. That was the face I had seen all those years ago, when he quite literally whipped the drugs out of me. He nodded slowly and we began.

I pried open the clamps. I could feel by the resistance that they would be quite intense. I wet my finger and rubbed Alex' right nipple. His young eyes were fixed on me, watching every move with rabid attention. Once his little nub was hard, I put the clamp on, releasing it gently, allowing the pressure and the pain to build. Alex shouted into his gag. I wet my finger and rubbed Alex' left nipple. His young eyes were fixed on me, watching every move with rabid attention. Once his little nub was hard, I put the clamp on, this time letting go quickly, allowing it to squeeze its tiny target with relentless force. Another anguished cry, muffled by the rubber ball in his mouth. Alex thrashed his head around on the padded rest.

"Michael," I said, gazing up at the handsome young man. "Would you please hold his head?"

Michael received a tacit nod from his master and immediately knelt at the front of the bench. He took my sweet boy's head gently between his hands and stared down into Alexander's eyes. I heard him whisper something, soft and kind and comforting it sounded, and Alex lay still again. He was breathing rapidly through his nose, trying to process this new sensation. Distracted by the clamps, as I was sure he would be, he did not even seem to notice when I unbuckled the seed pod from his leather jockstrap. Hanging loose for only the second time since it was put on, the weight of it pulled his genitals down a bit.

I took the ring from my pocket that held all of the boy's keys and opened the padlock. The hex wrench was next. I turned it slowly in the bolt. I had his attention again now. A moment later the pod was open. Inside, his balls were red and swollen, desperate to release his immature seed. His cock lay over them, held down by the leather straps, its purplish head just peeking out from the foreskin. Everything was wet and gooey with the boy's pre-cum.

I released the straps and worked quickly, pushing his four inches [15 cm] back through the opening in the pod before it could get hard. His plump nearly thirteen-year-old balls were pushed through. For the first time in three days his boyhood was free to do its thing. He erected immediately, six full inches [15 cm] standing above his smooth hairless groin. His foreskin fell back without being coaxed. Alex has a beautiful crown, perfectly shaped. I'd never seen Alex so hard or so thick. This was a man's penis, attached to the body of a boy. It was dark red and glistening and eager for attention.

Attention it would receive. "Michael, the whip, please."

Without hesitation, the young slave picked it up and handed it to me. I will never forget the look on Alexander's face. His cock was free. It was his first erection in three days. He stared at it in wonder. Clearly he'd never seen it quite so big either. The pain of the clamps and seventy-two hours of total denial had conspired to make him a horny little animal. His eyes got that faraway misty look I've since come to know and love over the years.

"Alex," I said, my voice was soft. "Look at me." He turned his eyes in my direction and forced himself to concentrate. "You are being punished for your disrespect to Master Robert. I am going to whip your penis. You will not cum."

Robert stopped me before I could begin. "May I take his gag off?" he asked. "I would like to hear the boy scream."

"By all means."

With tender compassion, Robert bent over and gently removed Alex' gag. A stream of spittle came out with it. "There boy," he said, patting the kid's shaven head, "wiggle your jaw around a bit. Better?"

"Yes, sir, aaahhh." The clamps were a constant re- enforcement of my discipline.

"Alex, tell us your safeword," I said.

"Butterfly," the boy replied, squirming in his bonds.

"We've all heard it now. Use it if you need to. There is no shame here. Only discipline."

"I… I understand, sir."

I brought the tiny whip back then snapped it against his cock.

"Oooww!"

Another, a little harder this time.

"Aaawwww."

Michael again held the younger boy's head as Alex thrashed around on the bench. I snapped the whip three times in sharp succession. A long high-pitched moan issued from Alexander's throat. He was panting now, wiggling his hips. His cock was oozing fluid from his prostate in an endless stream.

Another lash. This one kissed his glans.

"Awww gawd, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

I could see his muscles tensing up. "I'm going to cum, sir!" he said hysterically.

"No you are not," I told him. I stopped and returned the whip to Michael, leaving Alex hard and dripping wet, as close to orgasm as he had ever been, but unable to climax. With his arms bound helplessly to the legs of the bench, the boy threw his head back in frustration and bounced it several times against the padding. While Alex was enduring the paroxysms of another denied orgasm, I released his legs and bound them together with the locking clasps on the ankle cuffs. Then I raised them until his feet were above his head, folding the boy neatly in half, exposing his cute rear end. Michael obligingly held his ankles. One hand was all he needed, the other rested gently on Alex' forehead.

I picked up the leather strap and gave it a good swish in the empty air to practice. My target was defenseless and still pink from its morning session. In his current position, Alex' balls hung down below the spot where his thighs were pressed together by the cuffs. His cock, undoubtedly, was still pointing toward his chin, hidden from my view by his legs. I took a moment and rolled his nuts between my fingers. He moaned plaintively and begged me to bring him off.

I encircled his balls with my right hand and pulled them up and out of my way. With my left I brought the strap down across his buttocks. It made a loud smack as it crashed against his tender boyflesh.

"Start counting, sweetie," I said. Alex always needed to be reminded.

What is it the British say? Six of the best? Well, my questionable knowledge of English boarding schools aside, that's what he got. He screamed so beautifully.

Chapter 16
Taking Stock of Alex

After Alex received his punishment, I again bound his ankles to the bench. The kid was still hard. He was licking his lips slowly and humming to himself. The initial biting pain of the clamps on his nipples had now faded to a dull but constant ache. Anyone who's ever worn them knows the feeling. The endless unrelenting pressure, the slow deep burning, the electric sensitivity that seems to spread from those two little biological oddities outward to your entire body. For all of us, at some level I suppose, pain and pleasure do share some common ground. For a boy masochist stretched and bound in front of my eyes, the two were instantly and immediately and intimately the same.

I have to confess the depth of Alexander's fixation, his addictive need for pain, was still rather disturbing to me at the time. Boys aren't supposed to be like this, are they? Or perhaps they are, and we just dismiss them and ignore them, because they're boys. Alexander had bravely decided that he was a boy who was not going to be ignored. This is who he was, and he had a perfect right to express it. He lay there now, in pain, but fully and happily contented.

And I was content to leave him there. We still had another crate to unpack. Robert and Michael were already beginning to remove long planks of wood from it, laying them out in an orderly fashion on the floor. I knelt down beside Alex and he turned his head to look at me.

"May I have the gag again?" he asked softly, blinking his eyes in a slow rhythm.

"Not just yet," I said, giving the thin chain between the clamps a little tug. Alex took in a sharp hissing breath. "If you start to get in trouble, I want you to tell me. Don't take more than you can handle."

A strained smile crossed his lips. "You worry about me too much."

"Somebody has to."

Alex laid his head back down and closed his eyes, tightly. So there was a struggle going on after all, one the boy was not willing to admit to me. Pain that quickly comes and goes is one thing, but pain that comes and endures is something very different. Something very new for him. Alex was learning this lesson right there in our living room. And then I realized he had not asked for the gag because it turned him on, which it certainly did, but because he needed something to bit down on, something to muffle his occasional scream so that his master would not have to hear it.

And so, was it actually mercy to take his voice, his only way of asking for escape? Or was it mercy to leave him there as he was. My dilemma produced a perfect solution, one I would use again and again whenever things got difficult for him. I could be kind and cruel all at once. I could keep him safe, while letting him enjoy the giddy thrill of danger. I picked up the gag, and for just an instant his eyes stared at me in desperation. I put the ball into his mouth, but I did not buckle the straps.

A look of gratitude was in his eyes when I finally turned away and left him.

Robert and Michael were hard at work, and the unknown contraption was beginning to take shape. The base was wooden, solid and heavy and three inches [7½ cm] thick, painted black, four feet [1.20 m] square. Thick iron rings were bolted to it in an orderly array. There was one in each corner, and several sets of two running down the center all equally spaced from the edges. Two of the sides had large square openings cut close to the edge. I had diverted my attention from Alex just in time to see Michael insert a five-foot [1.50 m] high post into one of these holes. The post itself was very thick and had a deep groove running its entire length on the inside. On its outer side at mid-height, there was a small winch. On the top of the post there was a pulley wheel. Michael worked efficiently and silently, locking the post to the base with large bolts and screws. With Robert looking on, the young slave dropped the second post into position and secured it as well. It was identical to its mate, with that same deep groove and ominous pulley contraption at the top.

Returning to the wheeled crate, Michael slung two long heavy chains over his shoulders and waited. Robert himself pulled the last wooden piece from the crate, two pieces actually, black like the rest, with three half circles cut out on their corresponding ends.

"You will find the stock very useful, Steven," Robert said. For that is exactly what it was, wicked and harsh and fully adjustable. "Michael spent many hours and days here as a boy, didn't you?"

"Yes, sir," the youthful slave replied. I thought I saw a

slight shiver.

"The bottom piece slides in first. It is marked, as you can

see." I watched carefully. The bottom piece was slightly longer, with a sharply curved hook at each end. Robert lowered it into position from the top, lining it up with the grooves and sliding it down. It was snug fit. "The chains, please, Michael."

Obediently Michael ran the chains through the pulleys then hooked them to the bottom piece. Robert continued his impromptu lesson. "The other ends of the chains attach to the winches on the sides. Once they are locked it will not move."

Michael carried out Robert's narrative as though they were direct instructions, and gave the winches a few turns to tighten everything up.

"Once the boy is in position, the top piece just slides right down the groove. There are locking hasps on the back side." He pointed them out to me. "You can immobilize his feet with the rings on the base."

I stepped onto the wooden base myself. It was sturdy and rugged, and I could see the slight wear in the holes where Michael's wrists and neck had been. I imagined him as I first remembered him, a small wraith of a boy with large blue eyes, almost fifteen but a late bloomer, looking more like eleven or twelve. I knew Robert had kept him in strict bondage from day one, but I was never witness to it. I looked over at my own boy, still stretched unnaturally on the bench.

"Let's try it out," I said.

Alex was moaning softly but no longer biting into the gag. I released his arms and legs, while Robert loosened the strap across his stomach.

"Stand up, Alex."

He needed a little help at first. His limbs were still wobbly from the stretching and the pain. Quickly I buckled the straps on his gag, pulling them tighter than before, and ran my fingers over his clamped nipples. Then I turned him around so he could see the frightening new addition to our living room. The look on his face when he got his first full glimpse of the stock was priceless.

Robert thoughtfully handed me the leather leash that went with Alex' collar. I think my dick grew a few inches at the mere thought of having my submissive boy leashed, and leading him around like an animal. I dangled it in front of him so he could think about it for a second, then I attached the leash to his collar. It was about three feet long. I rolled a bit of the excess around my hand and gave it a firm tug. Unaccustomed to this new discipline, poor Alex lost his balance and stumbled forward.

I tugged at it again. This time he did much better.

"Good. Now on the floor."

Immediately Alex was on all fours. I led him around the living room on his hands and knees for a few minutes, letting him get more comfortable with the leash that would soon be a normal part of his life. Meanwhile Michael got his master's dick out and gave it a good sucking. Robert's eyes were fixed on Alex. He was not a boylover, but what gay man would not be just a little turned on by the sight of a naked twelve-year-old on a leash?

Still on his hands and knees, I brought Alex to the stock and pulled him to his feet.

"Just think, sweetie, I could keep you here for days. Let's see how you fit."

I pulled the top piece up along the grooves. Currently the stock was set at about three feet off the ground. Quickly and roughly I bent him over and he shuffled forward, until his neck lay in the rest. I put his wrists in position myself, noticing the large eyebolts which I immediately clasped to his cuffs. The top piece came down easily and I locked the two together. Alex was now bent ninety degrees, his neck and wrists in the stock. I spread his legs and clasped his ankle cuffs to the nearest rings in the base. Freed of his belt, his young balls were hanging low, his cock still semi-erect. With one hand on his back, I reached between his legs and rolled the boy's testicles between my fingers. Then I grabbed his cock, pulling on it with a slow downward stroke, working it to another full erection. Alex was totally silent.

I knew he could not see me, only feel my hand between his legs toying with him. I said nothing as I moved the boy's silken foreskin up and down over his throbbing shaft, covering the head with one motion, retracting it as far as it would go with the next. Fluid was dripping from him again. Alex bent his knees a little further and rocked back against me as far as his bondage would allow. I continued to stroke him, coaxing a steady stream of clear liquid from his young penis. Every time I would feel the tension building in his muscles I would stop and get him back under my control. Keeping a horny young twelve-year-old from cumming once you've got him hard and dripping takes a great deal of care, and Alex had three days of pent up sperm he needed desperately to get rid of.

Alex wiggled around in the stock, trying madly to bring himself off in my hand. But that hand was always taken away just as he was about to cum. He's shake and shiver every time my fingers left his penis, and again every time they returned. Finally a series of low, anguished, frustrated cries began to fill the air around us.

The boy's sweet sounds were joined shortly by the deep masculine growl of Robert having his orgasm. I looked over to see him forcing Michael off his cock. The young man actually fell back onto his hands, his master's sperm dripping from his mouth. Robert yanked him to his feet harshly, grabbed him by his short blond hair and gave him a forceful kiss. Michael, small and slender, seemed to disappear in his master's powerful and unrelenting embrace.

Alex, of course, had been watching the entire scene, and was more turned on and hysterical now than ever. I knew that just the lightest touch would send him into orgasm, and so touch was quickly and totally denied him. I gave the chain connecting his nipples several hard tugs, not enough to pull them off, but enough to change his focus, from pleasure sharply denied to pain ruthlessly given. I came around front for the first time. He was drenched in sweat. His hazel eyes confronted me. Tears were rolling down his cheeks. The ball-gag added to the aura of sheer despair and helplessness that surrounded him. He gave me a delicious look of hatred.

"You've only just begun to hate me, Alex," I said with my most evil grin.

Chapter 17
That Special Touch

I took the leather blindfold from the box and put it on my boy. Alex tensed at the sudden and total darkness, but only for a moment. I squeezed his hand. He squeezed back. I gave him a gentle kiss. Just then an equally tender touch graced my shoulder. It was Robert.

"You two need to be alone," he said softly. "Michael and I will pack everything up and show ourselves out."

And a few minutes later they were gone. It already seemed like we'd spent a full evening, but it was not yet ten-thirty. I looked at Alex, my sweet wonderful boy, bound in the stocks, gagged and blindfolded. I needed one more thing and went out to the garage to find it. At first I'd forgotten where I'd left them, but there they were among the power tools. I dropped the earplugs into the palm of my hand and carried them back to my boy in the stocks.

I did not tell him what I was about to do. I simply worked them into his ears. The boy was voiceless, blind, and deaf. All he would have now is touch. The earplugs brought on a brief round of struggle as Alex jerked against the wooden frame, but again he calmed down right away. He would always be safe with me. He knew this. I gave his butt-plug an insistent tug and slowly pulled it out of him. It dropped to the wooden base with a heavy thud. I left it there.

The couch looked inviting, so I stretched out and picked up the book I'd been reading. Occasionally I'd hear a muffled sob or the creaking of the wood as he strained against the stock, but mostly Alex was silent. From my vantage I could see his backside perfectly. His growing balls were hanging down very low in his hairless sac. And he was soft again. I could just see the tip of his foreskin dangling beneath his scrotum. He moved his legs a bit. Bent over and spread wide, he was well balanced in this position, but the strain in his young thighs and calves was constant.

Thirty minutes passed. I set my book on the coffee table and approached him silently from behind. I reached beneath him and took the clamps off his nipples. The pain was furious as the blood returned to his little buds. He shouted into his gag and jerked around in the stocks. Immediately I stuck a single finger into his ass, rubbed his swollen prostate for a moment, and withdrew. Then I returned to my book. Fifteen minutes later I was back. This time I stroked his penis as it dangled between his slender legs. He was hard in seconds. I returned to my book. Another half-hour went by, and again I fingered him, in and out of his little hole quickly, just enough to give him the sensation of touch, but no pleasure. I waited another fifteen minutes and stroked his cock again. It was just going soft and I forced him to erect once more. It went on like this until long past midnight. On my random trips to the kitchen I would stop and give him a gentle spanking, just three or four swats on each cheek, but always I kept the timing of his anal and penile stimulation rigid and strict.

Finally, close to three in the morning, I turned off all the lights and went to bed, leaving Alex in the stocks, denied of all his senses now, even my touch. I suppose he still had taste, but what was that now but a rubber ball that filled his mouth. There was smell, of course, but that was only the boyish odor of his own body, mixed with sweat and leather.

I forced myself awake around five, and went back downstairs. In the dim moonlight I could see Alex' slender form bent over in the stocks. He was moaning softly. He was not asleep. I walked quietly behind him and inserted two fingers this time, swirling them around for several minutes, stretching his hole. Then I spanked him again, the slap of my hands upon his soft flesh echoing through the silent living room. If felt between his legs. He was hard. I left him and returned to bed.

Late mornings are not my habit, but I purposely slept in when the sun appeared through my bedroom windows. Around ten I finally got up and put on my jeans. When I got to the living room, Alex' head was slumped down. Blindfolded as he was, I couldn't tell if he was sleeping or resting or just exhausted. It didn't really matter. I brought him around with a few gentle slaps to the face. And then we began again. Every thirty minutes I fucked him with my finger. Every fifteen minutes later I stroked his penis. I imagined the constant forced erections were starting to become painful.

Around midday, I brought him his lunch. I moved a chair in front of him and sat down, holding his plate on my lap. I pulled out his earplugs then reached behind his head and removed his gag. He didn't say a word to me. His silence was beautiful.

"How much do you hate me right now?" I asked softly.

His unbroken voice was weak and scratchy. "A whole lot."

"And how much do you love me?"

"Even more."

I gently touched his face, running my fingers over his blindfold. He stretched his neck out as far as it would go in the stocks, desperate for my touch. "I brought you something to eat. Open your mouth."

Alex obeyed me, and I leisurely fed the boy his fruit and cheese. He drank some soda from a straw. When he was finished, I plugged his ears and gagged him again, and his afternoon was much the same as his morning. He was beginning to anticipate when he'd feel my finger in his ass, or my hand upon his penis. Touch was all he had, and it was becoming electrifying for both of us.

In between my regular trips to the stocks, I set things up in his room for the evening. He would never, ever, forget this day, or this night. I fed him a light supper, then removed him from the stocks. I gave him back his hearing, but the gag stayed in. Standing on his own, wearing the blindfold, seemed to scare him. I held onto my boy firmly and made him take a few minutes to stretch and limber up again. His leash was still attached to his collar, and I took it in my hand.

"Down on your hands and knees."

With tired aching legs he obeyed me.

"Let's go for a walk." I gave the leash a firm tug. I could feel his muscles tense. Resistance from my submissive boy. I knew it was the blindness. "Don't be afraid, Alex. I won't let you walk into anything. You are safe with your master. This is about trust, Alex, and obedience. Show me you can do both."

I tugged again, and this time the boy crawled forward, still timid and unsure.

"That's better. Now stay close to me. Your shoulder should always be touching my leg when you're on the leash."

Alex moved closer and pressed himself against me. I could feel his slender frame trembling. "Don't be scared. Stay close. Come on."

I walked him around the living room at first, to get him used to the subtle pull of the leash. We took it slow. His confidence grew with each step. Finally I led him through the kitchen and out onto the back porch. There was only a short step down onto the grass and he managed it gracefully, never once moving away from me.

It was a damp and humid evening. The smell of rain was in the air. Once his initial fear had passed, Alex became more and more at ease, and more and more enthused, but he was also very serious, showing great self-discipline and restraint.

"Good job, Alex. Let's try it standing up now. On your feet."

This was actually more difficult for both of us, especially with his blindfold in place. I had to be careful not to knock him off balance. And Alex really had no way of judging my pace or anticipating my direction. This naturally led to some rather harsh yanks upon the leash that caused him to stagger forward. He almost fell a few times and I had to reach out to steady him.

We kept at it until the sun began to go down. He would need a great deal more training, but it was a good first day in his collar.

Back inside, we carefully navigated the steps. In the bathroom I stood him in the tub and gave him his enema, leaving him holding his water while I prepared the final touches in his room. When I returned to him, my blind and gagged boy was ready, his cock standing rigid and throbbing. I had left Alex on his honor. His belt was still downstairs. I was prepared to find him jerking his young dick, but he was just standing there with his hands behind his head, his legs spread as wide as we dared without the plug there to keep everything in. He had not touched himself.

After the boy finished his business on the toilet, I took his leash in hand and led him down the hall to his bedroom. I first removed his gag, and then there, for the first time in almost twenty-four hours, I lifted the blindfold. His young eyes were tired, he hadn't slept much.

He looked around in wonder.

In his windows, on his nightstand, at his desk, along the shelves that lined his walls, his room was lit by candles. They cast a warm, comfortable glow, and their sweet cinnamon odor filled the air. His old sheets were gone, replaced by a silken set in dark blue. I thought the color suited him, and he would love the feel of it against his skin. The ropes at the corners of the bed were gone as well, replaced by the sturdy chains Robert had given us. Soft new-age music played on his stereo, barely audible, simply a whisper of sound to complete the setting.

Alex turned around and gazed at me in amazement. I removed the leash from his collar and hugged him close.

"We're going to do something very special tonight, Alex. I want you to feel special too."

"I… I already do, master."

"Give me your hand, sweetheart."

His left and my right joined, and together we approached the bed. I removed his harness and let it fall to the floor. His thigh cuffs came off next. Then last his collar, just for tonight. His wrist and ankle cuffs remained. I would be needing them. His eyes were dancing. Freed of his leather, he seemed suddenly smaller and so much younger. Delicate and fragile and hairless. A child. But between his legs there stood that raging rod of flesh. He was boy and man all at once, my sweet, my gentle, my intelligent, my complicated Alex.

"Lie down."

He did.

"Spread yourself."

He did.

I fastened his cuffs to the chains at the four corners of the bed.

"I'm going to milk you now."

Alex stared blankly for a moment, and then his hazel eyes got big when he realized what that meant. "You're going to make me cum, right?"

"Over and over again, until you can't squeeze out another drop."

"Will it hurt?"

"Maybe just a little, toward the very end. I think it's going to be a lot like when I fucked you, only this time you'll be hard every second. Rock hard. Now put your head back."

Alex was tense and nervous. To help him relax before we started, I took the bottle of baby oil I'd placed by the nightstand and poured a small amount onto his stomach. I massaged him slowly and gently. He sighed and his breathing eased. His gorgeous eyes were sunken and ringed in dark circles. He'd slept only in fits for the last twenty-four hours. He yawned and looked at me sleepily. I worked his young body at my leisure, enjoying the soft silken warmth of the boy's hairless skin, the sturdy wiry hardness of his developing muscles. Things had gotten a little rushed these last few days. Alex had borne it all bravely, but it was time to slow down and let him enjoy it.

"This feels so nice, Steve," he said.

It actually felt good and right to hear him say my name again. We would always be Master and slave, but tonight I also wanted us to be lovers.

The boy's skin was glistening in the candlelight. He was already hard and waiting for my hands to touch him there. I gripped his shaft gently. He tensed and shivered.

"Are you ready?" I asked.

"Yes, master."

I smiled at him. "I'll need you to help me do this, Alex. When you feel like you're about to ejaculate, I want you to tell me. Will you do that?"

He nodded.

"When you feel it, I want you to tense up, down here," I put my hand on his hairless abdomen. "You are not allowed to ejaculate unless I give you permission. I will be very disappointed in you if you do. I can make this wonderful for you. Do you want your master's help?"

"Yes, sir, I do."

I pulled the only chair in the room beside his bed, then leaned in to kiss him, softly on the lips. And so we began.

There is something incredibly and simply beautiful about a boy's penis, especially when he's aroused. A symbol of fragile youth, and rugged masculinity all at once. A boy's innocence and his devilry are all summed up in that fleshy appendage between his legs.

I stroked his cock slowly, lovingly, admiring the network of tiny veins that appeared beneath the darkened skin. I rolled his foreskin up, then pulled it back, dancing my finger over his frenum. That was his special spot, and it received my special attention. Alex bucked wildly, rattling the chains that restrained him. His eyes were closed, his mouth open, his head rolled around on the pillow. He wiggled his toes and clenched his hand to fists.

"aaaahhhh. It's happening, sir!"

I didn't dare risk another stroke, not yet. I let go of his throbbing boyhood and worked my hands over his balls, kneading them gently, feeling their impressive weight. It was still a boy's scrotum in which those plump ripe nuts hung, soft and like velvet to the touch, but low and full.

"You're going to be huge," I said as I let his balls go and watched them drop between his legs again.

Alex gave me a shy smile and thrust his hips up at me, indicating he needed to be stroked again.

"Ready for more, are you?"

"Yes, master."

This time I leaned over him and took his young organ into my mouth. Alex purred like a kitten. I felt his body relax as he laid back and enjoyed it. I ran my hands up and down his outstretched legs as I sucked and licked and rolled my tongue over my boy's cock. I could actually feel him getting harder, and those slight tremors that told me he was getting close, even if his own addled brain hadn't registered it yet.

The boy sighed when I took my mouth away, but my hand was quickly around his shaft again. This time I stroked him quickly, as far up and down as his loose foreskin would let me. I confess I envied him for being whole, for having that little bit of extra flesh and extra length that had been stolen from me as an infant. Five, six, seven fast strokes. He held his breath and strained, closing his eyes tightly.

I heard him whisper to himself, "Don't cum. Don't cum. Feels too good."

Bless his heart he was doing it. My wonderful Alex was keeping himself from ejaculating. How hard that must have been for a boy his age. It was a profound gift of love and trust and total submission he was giving me. I kissed him on the cheek.

"You are so wonderful," I said.

"Is it… would it be okay… is it alright if I cry?" he sniffled. Already his adolescent emotions were turning him inside out.

Another kiss, this time on his lips. "Of course it is."

And even as the first of his tears began to fall, I took him in hand again. He'd softened a little, but soon I had him firm and throbbing. He was wet with pre-cum, it was streaming out of him slowly, glistening in the light from the candles. After a few minutes he tensed again, raising his head off the pillow, straining against the chains. I could see his abdominal muscles flexing tightly. He groaned, loudly and deeply. I stopped. His penis stood straight and hard. More clear fluid dribbled from the tip.

The spasms were getting stronger, and once this one had passed, I sucked him again. For thirty minutes we went on like this, bringing him right to the edge and then, the two of us together, pulling him back.

I stroked him more slowly now, and more firmly, squeezing his shaft and working the pre-cum out of him. I felt his penis surge suddenly against my fingers. Alex shouted in ecstasy and tugged violently against his bonds. Every muscle in his young body was taught. And then, with a low moan he laid back. Sperm began to pour out of his penis, but there were no contractions, no ejaculation, just the steady flow of the twelve-year-old boy's thin white seed.

"Mmmmmm."

I gave him no time to think about what was happening. I rubbed him again, and again I got the same reaction, and the same slow outpouring. Alex was in another world, lolling his head from side to side, back and forth, his breathing quick and erratic.

For the next hour I continued, gradually milking him. Often nothing would come out at all, but four more times I was able to coax his sperm out of his balls and onto his stomach. His trim, muscular belly was covered with it now. I gave it several more tries, edging him, but it seemed I'd milked him dry. I began to masturbate him intently.

"I want you to ejaculate this time," I said as I brought him closer and closer.

Finally he gave out a high-pitched cry, the same I remembered hearing from him when he was younger.

"Aaaaahh, aaaahh, aaaaaaahhhh." Three strong contractions, each eliciting a deep shout of pleasure and anguish. Alex was ejaculating, but his young body had nothing left to give. A dry cum, just like he'd had as a little boy. His penis was still hard when it was over. He went utterly limp, and his head fell to one side.

My sweet boy had actually fainted.

"Alex?" I gently stroked his cheek.

He came around instantly and gazed at me with love and devotion.

"Who's my special boy?"

"I am."

"Who will always love you?"

"You will."

"Who's your master forever?"

"You are."

I'd said Alex would never forget this night, and he hasn't. Even now that he's a young man he still talks about what we did together on that warm summer evening, with a dreamy faraway look in his beautiful eyes.

Interlude
One Month, and the Dungeon

Time passed quickly over the next few weeks. Alex was thriving in his new life. He laughed more than I'd ever known him to, and his face was lit with his beautiful smile more than I'd ever seen, except when he was wearing the gag of course.

My enforcement of strict chastity was still a struggle for him, but his weekly milking gave him a goal to shoot for, literally, and of course it also eased some of the build-up of boyish hormones for a while. We never again went in for the show and ritual of that first night, for neither of us wanted to cheapen that cherished memory. Still the milking remained a gentle fixture of our lives.

The boy's collar and lead training was going well. On two feet or on all fours, blindfolded or with eyes staring straight ahead, he was developing a practiced confidence and a dignified grace. We saw Robert several times, and the experienced master remarked what a fine and handsome young slave Alex was becoming. Of course my boy gave him a low flourishing bow, which always brought a smile to Robert's face. Alex and Michael actually made love for us on one occasion. Penetration was strictly forbidden, but it was glorious to see these two horny young slaves in collar and harness passionately pleasuring each other. Alex' infatuation with the older slave was obvious and incredibly sweet, and Michael seemed to enjoy the chance to be the dominant partner, at least for a brief moment.

Alex was not allowed clothing of any kind while at home. I kept him in his leather gear most of the time, or simply naked and belted and collared, although we did use the irons and chains when I worked him in the yard. He spent his nights chained to his bed, or in the stocks, which he and I had moved to the basement. Rare now but very special were the nights he spent in his master's bed.

The punishment bench was down in the basement now too, along with the many implements of pain Robert had provided. I had gradually added more to the arsenal, and our new dungeon was where Alex was disciplined every day. He liked to call it torture, but the word disturbed me, I suppose partly because I so deeply enjoyed inflicting pain upon him. I was calculating and cruel, and merciless, and he loved me for it, never knowing how close to the edge we were both walking, with only his safeword, which I had trained my ears to listen for over his screams, to protect us.

Our work on the dungeon had gotten underway the day after his first milking. The boy was a slave, every moment of every day, but I felt it was important that we had a special place where we could explore our darkest fantasies and desires.

We repainted the brick walls first. Alex naturally wanted all black, but he grudgingly accepted my suggestion of a thin whitewashing, so that it would retain that harsh, rustic look. We turned the water back on down there, and hooked up a sink and showerhead over the drain in the corner. I brought in a plumber to put in the toilet. I installed modern track lighting, which illuminated the place nicely and drove the shadows away. Ours was going to be a dungeon of contrasts, hard and cold to the eye, yet also bright, a place were darkness was not allowed to linger and taint the heart. And yet as we worked it was transformed into an ominous space.

Chains and shackles were soon dangling from the wooden posts and down from the rafters, all at a height befitting the age of the boy who would be spending hours hanging from them. Robert helped us acquire our first serious piece, an X-cross, custom sized, but large enough to grow with Alex as he entered his teens. There was a cot in one corner, its metal frame covered only by a thin bare mattress.

Using his charcoals, Alex drew some graffiti on the walls. Scenes of torture and suffering from deep within his psyche. They changed often. He'd wash one away, or create a new one, or add to those he'd already finished. It was some strange form of therapy for him. We had a ritual. Every time we tried something new, every time he experienced a new kind of pain, he would draw how it made him feel on the walls, thus making them a tapestry of his journey into slavery.

Not that we spent every moment down there. It did consume much of our energies for certain, but we made time for other things. Fun things. Summer things. I was determined that he not stop being a boy, simply because he was a slave. The two were the same, but also distinct. Alex was collared all the time, but when we went out in public I put a less conspicuous dog collar around his neck. Many young and soon-to-be teens wear them, and so, to passing strangers, he just looked like a handsome kid entering his rebellious stage, which he was beginning to do anyway. He wore his wrist cuffs proudly, although I took the padlocks off for obvious reasons. His ankle cuffs were hidden under his socks. No one guessed the true meaning and symbolism of the leather around his neck or upon his wrists, a secret he and I enjoyed sharing between us.

There was time spent at the beach, his golden tan turning a dark reddish-brown before my eyes. He couldn't wear his chastity belt under his speedo, which was about all he wore the entire time, so we left it in the hotel room, strapping it on at night before bed.

There was the baseball game, the trip to the mall to buy his clothes for the coming school year, numerous of our now traditional late-night visits to Gino's. There was even a birthday party for one his classmates, where Alex' newfound sense of confidence and self-worth made him seem like a different person in the eyes of his young male peers. He started making friends, and even had a few boys over during the long summer days. They loved his artwork and insisted that he do pictures of them. Naturally they posed shirtless, giving me a knowing look as I stared on in admiration at their firm, young, thirteen-year-old bodies. Boys that age know they're sexy, don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise.

The blond was coming on to me from the time he walked in the door, a nice polite kid named Nathan with gorgeous blue eyes and already a cute little patch of hair under each arm. The bulge in his pants made me realize that Alex wasn't the only boy in his class running around with a man-sized cock between his legs. The other boy was Ashton, black hair, green eyes, a real pistol and still entirely prepubescent. Three cute shirtless boys in my living room. I was sweating bullets the entire time, making regular trips to the kitchen to ensure the basement door remained locked, and to adjust the boner plainly visible in my pants.

"Think Nate would whip me, if I asked him?" Alex wondered aloud one afternoon after the boys had gone home.

"If we got him down in the dungeon, he wouldn't be doing any whipping," I replied with an evil grin. "A lot of screaming maybe."

"He's hot, isn't he?"

"Very."

Alex' thirteenth was approaching, and weeks before, with Robert's help, I'd tracked down someone to make the ultimate present for him. Of course there were games for his Xbox and some new CD's, as well as a very nice leather vest he'd been wanting, but he would certainly be the only boy around with this particular item.

He was out riding his bike with Nate, when my special order was delivered, apparently by the man who made it. He knew Robert well, and so he naturally knew of us. Straight down into the basement it went. I tipped the man handsomely, but he refused and was on his way. Alex and his pal came thundering through the back door just a few minutes later. They were both shirtless and sweaty. The strong sweet odor of boy was intoxicating. He recognized the meaningful look in my eyes and gently told Nathan it was time for him to go home.

"You are so weird sometimes," Nate said to him in his crackling pubescent voice, but he did it with a friendly smile. Out the door he went and was gone on his bike.

Alex stood up straight and returned my gaze.

"What is it, master?"

"Get naked, this instant!" I shouted.

A look of shock flashed across his gentle face. Alex was in his bare skin a moment later. The chastity belt was around his waist. I removed the dog collar he was wearing and told him to bring me his regular one, along with the leash, and his gag. The boy was gone in a flash, crashing up the steps to his room. He came back quickly with the prescribed inventory.

The collar went on immediately.

Taking his jaw firmly in hand, I forced his head back, opened his mouth, and quickly stuffed the ball-gag inside, strapping it tightly behind. Gagging him was the only time I really and truly handled him roughly, but it seemed fitting that this should be a harsh and swift act of domination and control. I did not give him time to submit. I simply took him. We began with this ritual every morning, and every visit to the dungeon started this way as well.

"Give me your leash," I commanded. My voice was harsh and stern, more so than he was used to. I saw his young eyes dance for just a moment, unprepared for the cruelty he was hearing from the master he loved so completely.

His hands were shaking when he handed it to me. I attached the leash to his collar and pulled him close to me, nearly off his feet. "Things are going to be different from now on, little slave," I said.

And I did mean that. He would be thirteen in just two days. He already had five wispy brown hairs growing above his penis, and several more on his scrotum. At twelve years old, you might still consider him a little boy, and part of me always had. At thirteen those days were over. This was a young man standing before me now, and my expectations of him were going to be much greater from this day forward.

"Follow me," I growled.

I'd never seen him so frightened. It was wonderful. Down into the basement we went. The lights were off at the bottom of the steps. I flipped them on and waited for him to react to our latest addition.

The cage was about three feet [90 cm] high, four feet [1.20 m] long and three feet [90 cm] wide, made of a heavy wooden frame with steel bars. The door was open, a large baton lock ready and waiting. The base was a solid wood plank, with iron rings bolted to it. My boy turned and looked at me with love and surprise in his eyes.

I dropped the leash, and put my arm around his shoulders, already broader than they were just a few short months ago. "Happy birthday, Alex."

Chapter 18
Medical Attention

At first I had serious doubts about keeping him in the cage and letting him sleep down here all alone. He was still very young, and I feared what it might do to his head. Far from traumatizing him, he said he loved it, and he did. He liked the bars all around him. This would be his third morning waking up in confinement.

Seeing it from a sadist's perspective, I naturally thought of the cage as confinement and entrapment, a form of punishment and humiliation. Alex saw things very differently. What I called entrapment, he called protection, what I called confinement, he called safety, what I called humiliation was exactly that, and he needed it once in a while, only briefly, but every bit as much as the pain I so lovingly offered.

That explained the bucket of water.

I picked it up and dumped the contents over the cage.

"Get up!" I shouted, in a tone I had spent all night practicing.

He yelped when the cold water hit him.

"I'm awake! I'm awake!" he yelled.

I reached between the bars and released his wrist cuffs. Once the door was open, he crawled out of the cage and gingerly stood up. The boy's lean body was gorgeous, dripping wet and shivering.

"May I stretch, sir?" he asked me. The devilish grin on his face told me the kid was already guessing my answer.

"A good whipping should loosen those joints," I told him. "Take your piss and get over there." I pointed to the spot in the center of the room, where the shackles were hanging down, left over from the day before. For the last two weeks I'd used the cat on him, lashing it across his back, his butt, his thighs, and his chest when he asked for it. Now it was time to try the whip.

Alex was in position, standing beneath the chains on a six-inch [15 cm] wooden platform I'd built for him. He waited obediently with his hands behind his head as I drew the long, slender lash from its place on the wall.

"Oh, wow. Are you really going to use that?"

"Sure am. Okay?"

In answer he raised his arms. I closed the shackles around his wrists and inserted the pins.

"Ready?"

"Yep."

I kicked the wooden box away.

"aauuughhh," he groaned as the weight of his entire body was suddenly transferred to his arms and shoulders. He swung for a few minutes as I slowly jerked him off. He knew not to cum. I ran my fingers playfully through his new-grown pubic hair.

"I like this," I said, as I plucked one out.

"Yeeowwch. Don't! I need those."

"For what?"

"I don't know, I just do, okay?"

"Sensitive about your cute little hairs?"

"Yes."

I put my hands on either side of his ribs and gave him a little push, sending him swinging back and forth, increasing the stress and tension on his young joints.

"Oh man that's good," he said.

I did it one more time, and then I started with the whip. I don't know how he found the strength in his lungs to scream as long and hard as he did. I've come to understand that Alex loves screaming, just for the sake of it. He's told me that it makes the pain more bearable and yet more intense all at once. I'm sure a psychologist would have a field day with my young masochist, but I knew that pain was the very best therapy for him.

The whip curled through the air again, cracking against the boy's back. Adding one more to the score of red welts already crisscrossing my thirteen-year-old's tender skin.

"Aagghh!"

Alex' latest cry echoed through our dungeon. I loved him like this. Naked. Stretched hanging from the rafters with his wrists in chains, his cute teenaged feet dangling six inches [15 cm] off the floor. Each lash of the whip set his body swinging. I watched the muscles in his back and shoulders tense in anticipation, and gave him another one, the hardest yet. He shrieked and groaned and twisted sharply.

I walked around front. His head was slumped to his chest. Alex was covered in sweat. It glistened off his tanned skin. I put the handle of the whip beneath his chin and so lifted his eyes to my own. They were red and swollen.

"Had enough?" I asked him. Please say yes, I thought to myself.

Alex shook his head slowly, almost defiantly, even as the tears rolled down his cheeks. His voice was weak and he spoke between sharp gasps for air. "You promised me fifty every day… I want the rest."

I was his master. I should have seen it coming. I should have said no, right there. He was a boy. There was only so much his young body could take. I swore an oath to protect him, even from himself if need be. But I am an addict. I have always been an addict. And my latest drug, my lifelong addiction, is the sound of Alex screaming. I unfurled the whip and walked slowly behind him again. I laid into the kid's battered and defenseless back with renewed vigor.

Five, ten, fifteen lashes, forcing hoarse ecstatic screams from the depths of the boy's soul. These were the screams he made when he had lost himself in the pain. There are times, I swear, when the boy simply loses his mind.

"Damn it, Alex! Say the word!"

"No!"

"Say it, for god's sake."

"No!"

"Please," I begged him. Yes, a master begging his slave.

"I… I just can't. You know that." He was sobbing. "Just whip me, sir, please!"

Now I was angry with him. That was my first mistake. I gave him five or six more, fast and hard. That was my second. He swung wildly in his chains as the blows landed in quick succession. He twisted sharply, a little too much so for his growing body to endure. I saw it happen. I actually saw his right shoulder leave its socket.

Alex howled in agony. Even for a masochist there is pain that is unbearable, pain that does not fire the brain with pleasure. Pain unneeded. Pain unwanted. Alex cried and wailed as he hung there. I threw the whip aside and quickly wrapped my arms around his waist, taking all his weight upon me.

"I've got you, Alex. Try to be calm."

He sobbed and sniffled, but did his best to compose himself. I reached up and pulled the pins in the shackles. The poor boy fell awkwardly into my arms. His eyes were tightly closed against the pain.

"Can you stand?" I asked.

Alex was wobbly on his feet, but he managed it bravely. I got him upstairs and lay him on the couch. "Close your eyes," I told him, as I draped his right arm gently across his chest. It didn't look as bad as I first feared, but I knew it was more than we could deal with. We needed help. Alex whimpered softly. "Don't move."

He managed an ironic smile. "I won't. I promise."

I picked up the phone and dialed Robert's number. Michael answered.

"Put Robert on right now, Mike," I said. "Alex is hurt."

There was silence on the other end for a moment, and then Robert picked up.

"What happened, Steven?" I could hear the menacing edge in his voice.

"I was careless and stupid," I replied. Alex looked up at me sharply and shook his head.

"Tell me everything."

I did. Alex was looking at me desperately now. Robert sighed over the phone.

"Well, I suppose it couldn't be helped. Accidents do happen. You have to be more careful with him, Steven. You know he doesn't know his own limits, or just ignores them. His safeword is meaningless if he won't say it. Can you take him to the hospital?"

"I'd rather not. He has some marks on him, and some bruises, that might be hard to explain."

Robert chuckled softly. "So you've been beating him, have you?"

"Only to excess," I replied.

"I know a doctor who can help. He fixes Michael up when things go wrong."

"Michael's not a boy," I reminded him.

"Not anymore certainly, but he was the first time I took him in. Doctor Collins is perfectly safe, and extremely discreet, I assure you. He has a boy of his own. Write down this number and call him."

I took the number down. By the exchange it looked like he was fairly close to us. I breathed a sigh for that. I didn't want my poor boy lying in pain all night. Before I could hang up, Alex asked if he could speak to Robert. I handed him the phone, and listened with wet eyes as my sweet gentle boy defended me.

"It's me, sir, it's Alex… this is all my fault, sir… yes, sir… I was the one who was stupid… Yes, I think I've learned a lesson. Don't be angry with my master, sir, please."

A little smile came to his face. He gave the phone back to me and closed his eyes again.

"That's quite a boy you have there, Steven," Robert said. "Do be more careful."

When I hung up, Alex was staring at me again.

"It really was my fault," he said. "Sometimes I just don't know when I've had too much."

I put my hand on his sweaty forehead, and told him honestly. He deserved the truth from his master, no matter how much it hurt me to say. "I knew, but I just kept going. Whether you use your safeword or not, it's my job to stop when things get out of control. Things were very out of control, weren't they?"

"Yeah, they kind of were. It's just… I didn't want to say it. I really didn't want you to stop. Guess we were both being stupid, huh?"

I nodded and kissed him. "I think we need a new word. One you can use to slow us down."

"That's cool. What should it be?"

"You decide. I'm going to call this doctor and find out if he can see you this afternoon."

I gave Robert's name over the phone. No questions were asked, no explanations required. I was told I could bring him right over. I got Alex dressed, just jeans and an oversized T-shirt, which went over him without causing much distress. It was a good half-hour drive. Alex had a hard time getting in the car, and he cringed in pain with each little bump in the road.

"Have you chosen our new word?" I asked, driving as slowly and gently as possible.

"Snail," he said with a soft laugh.

"That makes sense. What is it with you and insects anyway?"

"Snails aren't insects."

"Whatever. Just lay back and try to get some rest. We'll be there soon."

"I hope so," he said, then, under his breath, "this really hurts."

I reached over and squeezed his knee gently. He sighed and closed his eyes.

The sign outside the large isolated residential house read:

"I wonder what kind of medicine he practices," Alex said smartly as I helped him from the car. He was cradling his right arm.

"Leeches I'm sure. Come on, slave boy," I said good- naturedly.

"Yes, sahib."

I don't know where he picked that one up.

The door was opened by a middle-aged gentleman in a button-down shirt and khakis. He was clean-shaven, of average height and trim build. In every way he seemed the perfect image of the successful young doctor, right down to the stethoscope around his neck. However a closer look was somewhat more revealing. A rather expensive looking ring in his left ear, and just the very edges of some very extensive tattooing visible below his shirt-sleeves. He studied me first with harsh gray eyes, and then Alex. He did not say a word.

"I called," I said. "Robert recommended you to us."

His expression lightened, although I would always know him as an overtly serious man. He offered his hand to me.

"You must be Steven." His accent was faintly British. "Robert had already told me about you, even before your call. Pleasure."

"Thanks for seeing us so quickly," I said, putting my arm around Alex' waist. "There would have been complications at the hospital."

He smiled for the first time. There was then, as now, something quietly wicked about it, although I've since come to know him as one of the gentlest masters, and one of our dearest friends. He turned his sharp eyes to Alex.

"So, all bruised and welted, are you."

"Yes, sir," the boy replied with a quick nod of his head.

"Excellent. A boy needs a good thrashing once in a while. Tell me, young man, does your master here lay into you hard, or just play about?"

"Hard, sir," Alex replied. There was unabashed pride in his voice, pride that he had a strict, firm master. "Sometimes very hard."

The last of the coldness faded in the face of Alexander's charm, and Samuel Collins invited us in.

"Call me Sam," he said to me as he closed the door behind us. "And tell me what is this adorable little slave's name?"

"This is Alex." Quite without thinking I laid my hand over his shoulder. The poor boy winced and let out a soft cry. "We played a little rough today, as you can see."

"Separated shoulder, correct?"

"Looks that way."

"Quite normal. Let's get him into the examination room and we'll have a look. Sebastian!" he called sharply.

I vaguely remembered Robert telling me the good doctor kept a boy, but I was surprised to discover it was a literal description. Alex and I both stared as we met Sebastian for the first time.

The child had red hair. That was his most immediately distinctive physical feature. Not that sadly comical flaming orange some unfortunate boys are born with, but a dark, rich, ruddy hue. Shaved close on the sides and just a little spiky on the top. His eyes were of the darkest brown, deep and sensitive. He was eleven years old.

Sebastian wore a two-inch [5 cm] leather collar with spikes around his slender young neck. The boy had on tight thick black leather shorts. Built-in belts and straps at the waist and around his thighs were pulled taught and locked with brass padlocks, preventing the boy from getting out of them. He was lean and wiry, extra slender without being emaciated.

Like most redheaded boys, his skin was extremely pale, the whitest white I'd ever seen. He was almost pearlescent as he stood there at attention, panting softly after running from wherever he was at his master's summons. Unlike other reds, his face and body were almost completely free of freckles.

He wore no shirt. His little boy nipples were just tiny pink dots on his chest, and would have been nearly invisible were it not for the fact that they were pierced with one-inch [2½ cm] golden rings, joined together by a delicate silver chain. Both of the boy's ears had been pierced, and there was an identical ring in his nose, appearing to pierce his septum, though I'd later learn it was simply clasped. Five gold rings for a pale white boy. The contrast was stunning and arousing.

And, like his master, the boy was tattooed. It looked like barbed wire, black, running in a perfect single line around both of his small hard little biceps, and another one again around his narrow waist, much of that one hidden beneath his leather shorts.

I wondered what else might have been pierced and tattooed under there, but that was really none of my business. Alex' shocked expression told me he was wondering about the same thing, and perhaps a little more.

"We have guests," Samuel said sternly. "This is Master Steven and his slave Alex. Show them to the examination room. I'll be along shortly. No talking."

Little Sebastian nodded his head like a well-trained slave and led us down the nearest hallway. In his posture and demeanor he instantly reminded me of a miniature version of Michael, but there was a jump in his step and a lively impish playfulness in his eyes that spoke of a wild and wonderful personality, just barely contained by the collar around his neck.

It was an ordinary exam room in which Alex and I found ourselves, although the padded table had numerous restraints and a rather vicious set of adjustable stirrups at one end. It did slowly dawn on me that people living our lifestyle do have unique medical needs, where privacy and anonymity are paramount. For a thirteen-year-old slave and his master this was especially true.

I helped Alex off with his shirt while he and Sebastian traded shy smiles and looked one another over. There'd been no time to put Alex' chastity belt on, and so I immediately noticed the swelling in his jeans. Was there a hard little lump there in Sebastian's pants too? Hard to tell, but the little guy was certainly cute and very sexy. I thought I'd noticed a resemblance to Samuel, and wondered if he might be the doctor's own son or nephew, and how he came to be a slave.

Samuel Collins entered in his white lab coat and told Alex to hop up on the table. That took some doing with a sore shoulder.

"That will be all now, Seb," he said, giving the boy a gentle pat on his leather-clad behind. "Run along and play. I'll call you when we need you again."

"Yes, master." It was the voice of a choirboy that answered, in the same soft fading British accent of his master. A young angel in black leather. He scurried off. There was a deep fondness in Samuel's eyes as he watched him go.

"Relative of yours?" I asked conversationally. Of course it was none of my business, but when you've just met an adorable eleven-year-old boy with tattoos and piercings, you are bound to ask questions and expect a few answers.

"It's the eyes, isn't it?" he asked softly.

I nodded.

"My nephew, yes, although he does not know it. My sister's boy, may she rest. I've had him since he was four, and he knows me only as his master. I started his training when he was eight. I still have his first collar. My great experiment. Coming along rather well, don't you think."

"Alex certainly seems to think so," I said, shifting my eyes to the obvious bulge between his legs.

The doctor smiled knowingly and gave Alex a little smirk.

My boy blushed fiercely. In just a short time, Alex had come to think of his erections as something belonging entirely to me. Kept flaccid and frustrated in his belt, only his master could free him and make him hard. The psychology of my control over his penis was profound. He was a thirteen-year-old boy, and nature was certainly having its way with him, but he was learning to control himself. Alex had reached a point where he did not want to be hard, unless it was his master's hand that had worked his cock to firm erection.

At first, whenever the belt came off, his penis would shoot up instantly, but now he would remain soft, a nice long floppy boy-cock, getting close to five inches [12½ cm] now when it was warm and dangling between his hairless legs. It actually swung from side to side now when he walked, when he was not belted that is. He was still in the belt more than he was out of it, but it's meaning had changed. It still drove him crazy once in a while. I could always see it in his eyes when he was ready to explode. But, where he had first viewed it as punishment for his offending organ, it was now a constant and daily discipline that had begun to imprint itself on his mind as well as his emotions. In or out of the belt he never touched himself down there anymore. There was an intense aura of sexuality that just seemed to set his entire body aglow and never faded. His weekly milkings were becoming marathon sessions, sometimes lasting for hours. To be thirteen and so full of cum again. What man wouldn't want to go back in time, just for a day or two?

"Have a cock like a horse, do you?" Samuel asked the boy as he prepared to examine him.

Why leave him wondering, I thought.

"Strip the little colt, if you want," I said.

Alex looked at me with surprise. Dr. Sam, as we'd come to call him over the years, was only too happy to oblige. Obediently Alex returned to his feet. Had his pain been worse, I would have insisted that we get right down to business, but he was coping.

The boy's shirt was already off, and Sam began by running his fingers down Alex' chest and over his stomach. He then unbuttoned Alex' jeans and slid them down the boy's narrow, tapered waist. My boy was still semi-erect, the purple head still hanging out of his foreskin.

"How old are you, boy?" he asked, as he examined Alexander's cock and balls with more than the clinical disinterest of a physician.

"Thirteen, sir."

"Very well endowed, aren't you?"

"Runs in the family, sir," he said, glancing over at me with a wide grin.

"Brothers?" Sam asked me with a raised eyebrow.

"We are."

"Very unusual. Kinky. I like it. Parents?"

"They're dead, sir," Alex said abruptly. Samuel never asked about them again, not in front of Alex at any rate.

He gently grasped the boy's cock. "May I see how long he gets, Steven? A boy's doctor really should know these things."

I laughed and told him to go ahead. "Remember, Alex," I warned him sternly, "no cumming."

"Yes, master."

Sam had my boy hard in a matter of seconds. The first drops of pre-cum were already oozing out. He whistled in admiration at the young throbbing barely teenaged cock before him and quickly took a measuring tape from a nearby drawer.

"Almost seven inches [18 cm] , and you're really just starting to grow."

Alex moaned softly as he continued to have his dick stroked. He and Michael had messed around, but this was the first time I'd let another master play with him like this. He closed his eyes and his tongue licked out over his lips for a second.

"I… I… I'm gonna cum."

The good doctor stopped and left the thirteen-year-old hard and dripping. "Back onto the table, please," he said with cold detachment.

From there things flowed like a normal doctor's visit for a while. Sam examined Alex' shoulder and moved it around a little. It was loose, but not as bad as I'd first feared. An x-ray was taken in a separate room to make sure there was nothing broken, and to plan for resetting it. Back in the exam room, we laid him on the table, resting his head on a soft pillow. I put my hands on either side of his face and looked down into his eyes.

"Would you like me to give him something for the pain?" Samuel asked me. "This will be quick, but quite agonizing."

"Alex?"

"I want to know what it feels like."

"You heard him."

"Very well then."

Studying the x-ray one last time, Samuel quickly grabbed Alex' right arm and gave it a sharp twist. It must have hurt too badly for a scream. Alex just lay there staring up at me with his mouth agape and his eyes filling with tears. And just like that it was done. Gingerly we sat him up again. Samuel put the boy's arm in a sling and we worked the T-shirt over it.

"Keep him in the sling for a few days," he advised, "but then he should start exercising it. No rough stuff for a while."

"Yes, sir," we both said in unison.

A short time later we were in his living room. After some convincing, Alex had finally agreed to let the doctor give him some pills. He was lying on the couch with his head still swimming, half-asleep. Samuel and I sat talking and getting better acquainted while Sebastian tended to our needs, bringing us food and drink, then sitting quietly and obediently at his master's feet.

I'd politely refused Samuel's excellent vintage. It's dangerous for a man with my history to take even a single drink, and I'd had several since the summer began. While I still had the strength to stop, I decided I would. I owed myself that, and most of all I owed it to Alex. I imagined the terrible horror that our dungeon might become for him if I ever happened to be drunk when we were down there.

"How long have you been training young Alex?" Sam asked as he pressed the wineglass to his lips.

"Less than two months."

The doctor's eyes grew wide. "Really. I'd have guessed at least a year, perhaps two. Especially with those welts and bruises I saw. He's into it rather heavily, isn't he?"

"Alex is a total submissive," I replied, "and a reckless masochist. Either I hurt him, or he hurts himself. At least this way I can keep him safe, most of the time. Things got a little crazy today."

Sam nodded in understanding. "I was stunned when he refused the injection. I've seen grown men beg for them like children when they're here."

"Alex wasn't kidding. He really wanted to know how it felt. He'll be drawing a new scene on the walls of our dungeon tonight."

"A slave and an artist. My, you must have your hands full."

Chapter 19
Boyfriends

I had to be crazy. Two weeks before the start of school, less than one week before Robert's associates would have their summer gathering, and at the moment the house was shaking with the crash and thump and rattle of three young boys.

Alex had asked me if his friends Nathan and Ashton could spend the night. That was big, and I realized that reconciling Alex the slave and Alex the boy was going to become more and more challenging as his teen years went by. I couldn't say 'no' to him, not about things like this, not when he finally had friends his own age. We sat down and had a long talk about it.

"I'll be careful, Steve, I promise," he finally said, rubbing his right shoulder, still sore from our earlier misadventure. "Besides everyone's seen me in the collar by now. No big deal. Nate wants to get one too, but his mom won't let him."

Oh, god. The vision of blond Nathan with a collar around his slender neck nearly made me cum in my pants.

"Alright, you can have them over. You're getting older now and it's time I learned to trust you."

He hugged me fiercely.

"Oh, Alex," I called as he ran to the phone to let his buddies know the sleepover was on. "I know what happens when thirteen-year-old boys get together. I used to be one myself you know. You have permission to jerk off, if you want to."

"Nope," he said with complete seriousness. "I'll just do the sucking, if they'll let me."

And less than three hours later they were here. Nathan arrived first on his bike. Ashton was dropped of by his highly domineering and overprotective mother. The boys made a strange but very appealing trio. They were all thirteen, within a few months of each other, but each one of them was so completely different. Nathan was the biggest, a full head taller than Alex, already closing in on his adult height, his voice a soft tenor with just the hint of manhood crackling through. To truly call him a young man would not be overstating things. He had some light blond hair on his lower legs now, and some cute barely visible fuzz on his upper lip.

Ashton was a little runt. Small and lanky and still eagerly awaiting the arrival of puberty. He could have easily been mistaken for a ten-year-old. My Alex was the perfect middle between them. Seemed strange that these three should even be friends. Nathan was the athlete. Alex was the studious artist. Ashton was the trouble-making clown. But all three of them were thoughtful and sensitive and intelligent. I suspected then, and know now, that they also were all unquestionably gay.

They threw their sleeping bags and backpacks on the floor in Alex' room. I'd moved the television from my study in there for him, just for tonight. They were already planning which movies they wanted to watch, who'd play who first on the Xbox, and which went best with pizza: beer or soda.

"Soda," I said definitively as I stuck my head into the room. Remember we'd taken Alex' door off more than a month ago, and I always wondered what those two young rascals thought about that. They never asked.

"Aw, man," Nate moaned. He had clearly voted for beer. "Is your brother gonna be ragging us all night?"

Alex smiled at me and politely told me to get lost. It was wonderful, seeing him just being a kid and acting like one. I told them to come down when they were ready to order the pizza. The sounds of Alex' CD player spinning the latest Dream Theater album soon filled the second floor.

Have you ever actually watched a thirteen-year-old eat? Let alone three of them? They were like a pack of hungry carnivores. 'The pizza' was actually three pizzas since they couldn't agree on what toppings they liked. They had pooled their money to help pay for the extravaganza. Poor Ashton fished a crinkled lonely dollar out of his pocket, all he had. I quietly returned it to him when Alex and Nate weren't looking. I think I managed to get about half a slice out of the whole deal.

It really was a nice evening, a strange taste of domestic tranquility, in spite of the rambunctious young males roaming through the house. The boys did their own thing and we stayed out of each other's way for the most part. I did finally join them in Alex' room for "The Lord of the Rings."

They'd already changed for bed, so I had three nice- looking boys in boxers and nothing else to occupy my thoughts as Alex put the disc in. Nate proudly boasted to me that he'd read all three of the books, and it was clear he was quite intent on the film, his fifth time watching it he said. Ashton hadn't been allowed to see it, and wasn't quite ready for such an intense emotional experience. He started crying about halfway through. My heart melted when tough strong Nate put his arm around him and held him close. Alex sunk into me a little more deeply and all four of us were soon weeping like children.

When it was over I got them all up and we put some cheese-sticks in the oven. We all needed something warm and substantial. We sat and munched and they were soon were talking about school and cars and other boy things. I looked at Alex, and saw a joy in his hazel eyes that was absolutely vibrant. And I remembered the very different boy he had been nearly five years ago, a battered and haunted eight-year-old who wouldn't even look at me for the first six months. How much he had changed since then. I saw Alex breaking free that night, just a little, right before my eyes. It was only a first step, but the first is always the most important, isn't it?

Chapter 20
Tender Parts

"Nate fucked me Friday night. Twice."

I dropped my spoon into my cereal. My first reaction was That little shit, I'll kill him. My second less visceral response was to laugh. Thirteen-year-old boys are horny little rabbits after all, and a submissive like Alex would give his ass to just about anyone he was fond of.

"Was he as good as your master?" I asked.

He gave me an evil grin.

"Did he make you cum?"

"You're the only one who's ever done that to me. Felt real good though. Nate's got a totally huge dick."

That figured. "And what was Ashton doing while you two were mating?"

"Oh, I was sucking him. He came big time. Just like I did when I was a little kid… he can't shoot yet. I think he came like three times. Am I good, or what?"

"The best," I replied with a laugh. "So the only one who didn't cum was you."

"Yep. Nate thought that was way cool… that he came twice and I didn't even do it once. He said I'd be his bitch from now on."

"He called you that?" I was ready to kill young Nathan once again.

Alex' eyes lit up. "He was laughing, Steve, geez, take a pill or something. Nate's not like that. He talks all tough, but he's, well he's just nice, you know. Kind of like you."

"Sounds like Nate and I have a few things in common."

Alex smiled. A moment later he was between my legs sucking and slurping on my cock as I leisurely ate my breakfast. I suppose he felt he had a reputation to live up to. It felt so natural having him there at my feet. Where else did a slave belong? Occasionally, when he was going too fast or too slow for my liking, I'd grab a handful of what little hair I allowed him and give him a sharp tug. Alex moaned each time and corrected his technique to suit my whim.

I was not rough with him often, but sometimes I just sensed that he needed it that way. A certain look of total surrender would come into his hazel eyes, a certain subtle relaxing of his muscles that told me it was alright to use and humiliate him in whatever way I pleased, the harder and crueler the better. Alex was a boy of extraordinary and endless humility, but he could not endure endless humiliation. And so these moments never lasted long, and they always ended predictably. Either I would grow uneasy in the dark act and pull back, or he would use his safeword. Then we would sit and discuss how that particular scene had made us both feel inside. Why I had stopped, or why he had said his word. We would use what we learned from each other later on, the next time were in the dungeon together.

Actually we talked a lot about these things, and even argued about them from time to time. Sometimes we both agreed, angry as we were with each other, that the dungeon was the last place either of us belonged, and so we'd just leave it, or not even go down. I was becoming a better master, learning to be hard and cruel while still loving him every single minute. Alex was becoming a better slave, learning to submit with his mind, his body, and his soul, but no longer losing himself in the process. Our relationship was changing, growing just as he was. It was still that of a master and a slave, but, increasingly, it was also that of a man and a young man, no longer a man and a young boy.

That particular morning, after a few minutes of using him roughly, we both agreed without words to just let it go. Alex continued his ministrations to my cock, and I simply sat back and enjoyed the sight of my beautiful boy giving me pleasure. When I came, it was incredibly strong. Then we hugged. Alex was in his belt, and I ran my hands tenderly over the metal pod that encased his young cock. I tugged playfully at the straps of his leather jock. The locks jiggled. He stood closer and spread his legs a bit more, allowing my hand to reach beneath him and finger his hole. His head was thrown back in ecstasy. Just this simple touch in his chastity was now an extremely erotic moment for him. For us both.

"Let's go downstairs," I said softly, kissing him on the cheek. "There's something new I'd like us to try today."

Alex nodded slowly. I took his hand and together we descended into the dungeon.

Once I had the boy in his harness, I put him on the X- cross facing me, and locked his wrists and ankles in position. He looked at me with love and trust in his eyes. I drew my keys and removed his belt. The pod remained, for now.

"I think a whipping to start," I whispered in his ear.

He nodded. "Kiss me first, please."

I did. Long and slow. And then I whipped him, kissing his stomach, his chest, and his legs with the stinging leather. We spent a sensual hour together this way. Every few minutes I would stop and spray him with cold water to keep him focused and make the bite of the whip a bit sharper for him.

"May I have a little on my face, sir?" he asked between gaping breaths.

I raised the spray bottle and gave him several squirts. Alex stuck out his tongue to catch the droplets.

"Do you need a drink?"

"No, sir. My mouth just gets dry sometimes."

"Must be all that shouting."

He smiled as the water dripped from his chin. I could tell he wanted more, and I gave it to him. His front was covered in angry welts by the time I'd finished. He was breathing hard and sweating. I stood back for a moment allowing the silence to return, then I unlocked the metal pod the encased his genitals and removed it. I left him there on the cross and soaped up a warm rag in the sink.

Returning to him, I caressed my hands over his beaten body. He winced and sighed at my gentle but cruel touch. Tenderly and leisurely I used the rag to clean his cock and balls, wiping a few days of fluid from under his foreskin. Alex got hard, very slowly.

I left him again for a few minutes and returned with the leather ball stretcher in one hand and a small collection of lead weights in the other. I put everything down on the nearby stool.

"Doing okay?" I asked.

The boy nodded between panting breaths. His penis was arching straight up toward his chest, eager for attention.

"I'm going to start working on your balls today," I told him.

Alex eyed me with fear and want. My junior masochist was always ready for a new experiment in pain.

I cupped his young berries in my hands and felt their rubbery mass. I kneaded them, raised them up against his body and let them fall with their own weight. Then I took the left one and rolled it between my fingers, finally squeezing it with slow, relentless pressure. Alex gasped and stared at me with blank eyes.

"They really are amazing, aren't they?" I asked him. "So soft and fragile. Tender little things. You really can crush them with your bare hands you know."

The boy looked at me in giddy terror.

"And yours have always hung so low," I continued, "even when you were a little boy. It's like you were just made for feeling pain."

As always, before we started anything new, I had him tell me his safeword. It was our protection, but it had also become his way of giving himself to his master, letting me know he was ready, and that it was alright for me to begin. Everything started with that one word, and everything ended with it, if he needed to.

He said it with conviction. I put the stretcher on him, wrapping it tightly around his scrotum, squeezing his balls downward. A smaller thin strap was used to separate them, and I pulled it tight and buckled it. I put the weights in my pocket for the moment and pulled the wooden stool into position. I sat down right in front of him. I gave the boy a few minutes to get used to having his young balls tied off. They already had a reddish tint to them.

"I'm going to hit them now," I said. "Just once. I need you to ask me. I promise I will never, ever do this to you, unless you say okay."

Alex bit his lip and stared at me. I could see the wheels turning behind his eyes. He wanted this so badly, the ultimate pain at the hands of his master. But it frightened him. In fact I'd don't think he'd ever been so scared. I didn't push him, but I didn't let him off the hook either. I expected him to tell me.

"Please hit them, sir," he said in small voice, barely a whisper.

I raised my hand and delivered a good smack to his balls, not too hard, but hard enough. Alex wailed and threw his head back. Every muscle in his lean young body was locked.

"Another?" I asked him.

"Please, sir."

"'Please, sir', what?"

"Do it again," the boy said through gritted teeth.

This time I gave both of his sweet young jewels a separate but simultaneous flick with my index fingers.

I was treated to a low, almost manly groan from my boy's throat. He bucked forward for a moment against his restraints, his natural instincts to protect himself impossible for any male of any age to contain.

"Another?"

"Yes, sir," he hissed. His eyes were already tightly closed in anticipation of my next blow, and tears were already streaming down his cheeks.

Another slap, this one considerably harder than the first. His entire body gave a spasmodic jerk. The pain must have been blinding. This time all he could manage was a high- pitched squeal.

"Another?"

Young eyes filled with anguish, he shook his head. "No more, sir, please," he begged.

He meant it. I left him to consider his new pain while I pulled the first of the weights from my pocket. The stretcher itself had drawn his balls down another half-inch [1¼ cm]. The leather strap that separated his balls had a pair of small d-rings on it, front and back side. I hooked the weights to them. A half a pound [225 g] of lead was now pulling on young Alex' testicles, eliciting a new round of moans and groans from my pubescent boy. I set the weights and his balls swinging, and sat down on the stool again.

After watching him endure the weights for a few minutes, I added two more. He had a full pound [450 g] between his legs now. He was still rock hard. I stroked his cock leisurely. He winced and wiggled, as each stroke set the weights in motion and sent a new jet of pain through his groin.

"Feels different when you're balls hurt, doesn't it, sweetie?" I asked as I continued masturbating him.

Helpless and seemingly unable to find his voice, he nodded. His cock was leaking in a steady stream now.

"Should I stop?"

"No," the thirteen-year-old whispered.

I brought him to the edge a few times over the next hour, but I did not add any more weights. We had time, years in fact, and so there was no need to rush. Alex was getting into it now, rolling his head around and licking his lips and begging me to make him cum. Beyond the virtually dry ejaculations he'd been experiencing after his weekly milking, Alex hadn't had a normal orgasm since we'd begun. This one would hardly be ordinary either, with those weights yanking on his balls, but it was time to exercise his young cock.

And so I granted his wish, stroking him to a powerful ejaculation. His sperm shot out in violent bursts, landing several feet in front of him. I can't begin to describe the wild noises the boy was making. He was crying and groaning and grunting. In that moment everything about him was sex: his eyes, his voice, the strong sweaty odor of his hairless young body.

"Kiss me! Kiss me right now!" he screamed.

I did, even as his cock softened in my hands. Then, I picked up the whip again.

Alex didn't have much left by the time we'd finished in the dungeon that day. His voice was spent from his screams, and his welts were turning to light purple bruises that would quickly fade away. His body ached from head to toe, not to mention his thoroughly punished balls. I released him from his bondage and helped him navigate the stairs. The poor kid was wobbly on his feet, and he leaned against me for support. I made him carry his chastity belt with him, but it would have been simply vicious to strap him into it with his tender young balls still hurting. I put him on the couch and let him sleep until dinner.

One thing we both quickly discovered is that time spent in the dungeon leads to big appetites for master and slave. It always remained a bit cool down there, even in the heat of summer, but the exertions did take their toll. I've known Alex to sweat off three or four pounds [1¼-1¾ kg] in a day when we're really going at it hard, and it has proven to be good exercise for me too.

I decided I wanted to do something special. Alex had just been through a very intense time, and he deserved a big, comforting meal. I got some steaks out of the freezer and fired up the grill. Corn-on-the-cob, a mandatory summer staple in our part of the country, went into the pot, and two potatoes were baking slowly in the oven. Alex appeared on the back porch just as I was turning the steaks.

"Mmm. Smells good," he said, stifling a yawn. I drew him close and let him take over, flipping the t-bones like a professional.

"How are you feeling, kiddo?"

"Good, actually," the boy replied, moving all of his joints in a cute little procession. "I'm sore, but it feels nice, like I'm all stretched out or something. The marks are almost gone, see?"

I examined his chest and stomach. He would be a bit bruised for the next few days, but he was right. The angry welts had all but faded.

"Guess I'll just have to whip you harder next time."

"Fine by me. Want me to get us some drinks?"

"Sure thing."

He was back with iced-tea for both of us a few minutes later. I'd known him to live off soda, but he said he wanted something a little more adult tonight. Actually my Alex was suddenly seeming very grown up, although he was still barely five feet [1.50 m] tall. We clinked our glasses together in a little toast, and I put my arm around his waist as the steaks sizzled. He pressed his naked body close to me and we just stood there snuggling.

"That was so wild today," he said. "God, you were hurting me so bad, but I just kept asking for it, didn't I?"

I nodded. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure. You're my master, right."

I kissed him atop his head. "Tell me about pain, Alex. Tell me what it does to you. I really don't understand. I feel like I'm missing out on something very special to you, something we can't share."

His young face grew thoughtful and serious.

"Is it too hard?" I asked. "If you can't talk about it, that's okay."

"No. It's not that. It's just really hard to explain." He looked up at me as he gave the steaks one final turn. "I don't know why it makes me so horny, it's just so strong, my whole body can feel it, just like today. I'll bet you think I like the way it feels, that it feels good to me or something, right?"

He didn't give me a chance to answer.

"Well, I'll tell you secret. Pain hurts. That's all it does… that's why I need it so bad. It's like… it's like electricity. Every time you smacked my balls today it was like a little more. Zap. See how much I can take. Zap. See how much before I have to scream. Zap. See how long before I get hard and cum all over the place!"

"But when you were little, when you were abused… I just can't see the difference."

"My dick didn't either," he said with a shy laugh. "Whenever he beat the shit out of me, which was almost like every day, it made me totally hard. But it just hurt inside, in here, all the time," he put his hand over his heart. "When we do things together it's so different. It still hurts. Actually, you hurt me more than he ever did."

"Alex… "

"No. Don't be sorry. It's good. It's real good. That's what I'm trying to say. The more you hurt me on the outside, the less it hurts on the inside, in here." Again his hand went over his precious heart. "I almost can't remember what it was like now, when he hit me with his belt all those times, or the electric cord, or when he tied that string around my dick and yanked me around the living room in front of everybody… "

I couldn't believe the horror Alex was so casually describing. The horror he'd lived every day for three years while his older brother was off getting stoned out of his mind. "You never told me about that," I said, wiping the tears that were filling my eyes.

"I never told you anything," he said matter-of-factly. "But all that's gone now. I know you love me, and that's what makes everything good. I'm your slave."

The near burning of the steaks kept me from hugging him. We took them in and got everything ready. We ate in the dinning room, which we rarely ever do. It was so strange to see him sitting there naked amongst the tablecloth, the silver, the good plates, and the fancy napkins. Strange, but sexy.

"Now let me ask you a question," Alex said.

I raised my eyebrow at him.

"Please, sir," he corrected himself.

"Fire away."

"You really do like hurting me, don't you?"

There was no point in denying something so obvious. "Yes, Alex, I do."

"Why?"

"Mostly because I know it turns you on, and that's the honest truth." It was. "But I don't do it just for you. I do it for me too. I like hearing you scream and beg, and I like knowing I'm the reason why. I like fucking you rough and hard until you can't even walk straight. I like playing with that clever little mind of yours and twisting you all around. It's about power, Alex. Power and control. I take. You give. Simple."

Anything but, however it seemed to satisfy him. "I'm hard again," he said.

We finished our meal in silence, then made love long into the night.

Chapter 21
A Boy's Heart

Just a sincere note of thanks to everyone who has shared their thoughts and feelings with me since this little project began. Our young hero's adventures could not continue with your support, suggestions, and encouragement. You know who you are. Scott, Chapter 21 is dedicated to you, I think you'll know why.

I woke up with Alex lying beside me, still asleep. It's a wondrous thing. Practically every day for the last three years I'd awakened this way, with my naked boy pressed against me, but I'd never lost that feeling that this was so special, the love between us so strong. The boy beside me had grown a little bit bigger each year, each month, and I smiled to myself when I realized he was now a handsome young teenager, and that one day it would be a young man waking up in my arms. I love boys, yes, but I began to sense that my love for Alex had transcended that.

You see I am simply and totally and madly in love with Alex. I loved him when he was a cuddly little four-year-old. I loved him when he was a shy, sad, skinny eight-year-old. I loved him when he was a quiet and vulnerable eleven-year- old. I loved him as the confident young teen who lay beside me that morning as the summer sun shone through the windows.

He stirred and stretched.

"Still sore?" I asked after a quick morning kiss.

Alex smiled at me. "Ready for more," he sang as he took his usual position between my legs. When he'd finished bringing me off, I had him stand at the foot of the bed while I examined the marks from yesterday.

"Put on some shorts, and a T-shirt," I told him.

"Okay."

"I'll unlock the closet for you."

He looked adorable in the blue soccer shorts and the long plain white T-shirt he'd picked out. It had been a few days since he'd worn clothes, and I often forget just how sexy he is when he's dressed. I figured the clothing rubbing against the boy's bruised and tender skin would be a subtle but constant reminder of the whip, and it was. He moved around uncomfortably the whole morning as he fixed and served my breakfast and cleaned the house. Watching him wrestle with the vacuum cleaner was priceless.

My young house-boy was hard at work in the bathrooms when the phone rang. It was Robert. Normally Michael made most of his calls for him, so I knew this had to be important.

"How is the young man's shoulder?" he asked after we'd gotten the pleasantries out of the way.

"Fine," I replied. "Dr. Collins made us feel right at home."

I heard him chuckle on the other end of the line. "And what did you think of young Sebastian?"

"I've been trying not to. I've never seen a boy with tattoos before. Alex wants one now. He hasn't asked me yet, but he's just waiting for the right moment to spring it."

"He'd look nice with one," Robert offered. "Sam can do it for you, anything you can imagine. He did Sebastian's. I was there. Very hot. He'll probably have the kid's entire body covered by the time he's eighteen."

That was a strangely erotic image.

"Maybe for his next birthday," I said. "Thirteen's still a little too young in my book… for something so permanent. What if Alex wants to try out for the swim team this year? Kid swims like a fish you know."

"You can always put it in a place where no one but you will ever see it."

Now there was an idea, but Robert had other things on his mind.

"Well," he said softly, "I am glad he was not permanently damaged."

"I swear I thought you were going to kill me right over the phone."

"No. Injuries are inevitable in our lifestyle, but I had to be sure you weren't abusing him. If I scared you, I am sorry."

"I mostly scared myself. But we've both learned a lot about each other since then."

"That's good. Will you and Alex be joining us this weekend?"

I didn't answer right away. Ever since Robert had handed me that ominous invitation, I'd been debating this. I'd finally shown it to Alex a few weeks ago. Naturally he was eager to go and show everyone what a great master he had, and what a good slave he was. He made it seem like it was just a trip to the movies or something. His na‹ve innocence was very cute, but it also worried me. At some level he still had no idea what all this really meant, or just how seriously certain people took it.

I wasn't afraid he would embarrass himself. Alex was already too smart, and too clever, and too good a slave for that. But I was afraid he might encounter slaves who were not as brave and strong as he was, slaves who were sad, pathetic specimens of humanity. So young and impressionable, I did not want him ever thinking that's how I wanted him to be.

And then there were the other masters to consider. Alex was new and very young, still a child in the grand scheme of things. He would, naturally, be the subject of unrelenting scrutiny. I remembered that first day when he stood in front of Robert and endured the seasoned master's harsh interrogation, cruel and calculated to break him. Alex was brave and wonderful that day, but Robert had given him all he could take, and he was crying when it was over. If he lost it in front of all of those people, what would it do to him? Alex had embraced his life as a slave. He was thriving. I did not want to risk that.

"You have doubts," Robert said.

"I do. Alex wants to go, but I don't think he's prepared for what he'll see. I'm not sure if I am either."

"Come and see us, Michael and me. Tonight if you can. You can stay with us a few days, and we'll go together if you think you're ready. It's not a long ride from my place."

That was an offer I could not refuse. "You are so good to us," I said.

"I love you like a son, Steven. And I love Alex like the terrific young man he is."

Alex was instantly excited about our trip. Not only the weekend gathering, but also the chance to spend a few days with Robert and Michael in their big mansion.

"You've got such a crush on him," I said, referring to the handsome young eighteen-year-old.

"I… I do not," he spat, as he packed his toothbrush.

"Come on," I goaded him. "One faggot to another, he's cute, isn't he?"

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean… "

"Alex is in love. How sweet."

"I am not," he said each word forcefully.

"Well, would you like to take a little gift to this person you don't love, just to let him know how you don't feel?"

Alex grinned from ear to ear and nodded his head yes. "I know just what I want to do."

He ran to his bedroom and sat down at his desk. Watching from the doorway I could see him sketching away. I walked in quietly behind him and looked over his shoulder. Alex' art is more expressive than representative. He rarely ever draws people, or places or things. Alex draws feelings. It's an amazing talent. There was a flourish and an almost childish joy in the wild colors and swirling shapes, just giving the hint of human form. He almost never used color, preferring a world in black and white, but this was clearly something special.

"Is that the two of you?" I asked him softly. The amorphous figures appeared to be in a gentle embrace, and, as with all of the boy's work, there was the unmistakable sense of motion.

"Yeah," Alex said shyly, "sort of. I guess it's mostly just how I feel when I'm around him."

I put my hands on his shoulders and bent down to hug him.

"Sometimes you're just so beautiful," I said. He smiled up at me.

"I haven't drawn one for us yet," he explained, as if I'd asked him to. "It still feels too strong. I don't know what to draw. That's okay isn't it?"

"When you do draw us, I know it's going to be perfect."

He rolled it up carefully and we hunted for a rubber band.

"Got everything packed?" I asked as he flopped down on his bed. We would be gone for at least two days, and possibly more.

Alex gave me a puzzled look. "I'm not sure what all I should bring."

He certainly wouldn't need many clothes. I had him pack an overnight bag with a pair of shorts, socks, a long shirt and his favorite black tank-top. He'd be wearing everything else he needed before we left.

"Strip," I told him.

Alex was naked in an instant. I took a moment to study his developing young body. Alex would never go through that gangly awkward stage that leaves some boys looking all arms and legs. He was perfect. Slender and coltish, lean and muscular, his body just hinting at the shape of the man he would become. His long cock hung soft and lazily between his legs, and aside from the little sparse tuft growing above it, Alex was still smooth and hairless.

"Stand!"

Immediately he put his hands behind his head and spread his feet wide. His leather collar and the cuffs around his slender wrists and ankles had become second nature to us both. I put his belt on him and locked his cock and balls away. He hummed softly. I put the plug in his ass for the first time in days, and strapped everything tightly in place. His harness went on next. We packed the ball-gag and the thigh cuffs.

"Shirt and shorts," I ordered. "Then get your socks and shoes on."

He pulled on the same blue shorts and plain shirt he'd been wearing around the house, then worked himself into his white socks. Restricted by the harness and the tight belt around his waist, his normal graceful boyish movements were comically inept.

"I'm not very bendable in this stuff, am I?" the boy asked with a wry expression.

"That's the idea, Alex. Do your best."

He always did. Finally he stood up again, ready for action. His collar and wrist cuffs were in plain view, but everything else was completely hidden. There was that dreamy smile on his sweet young face.

"This feels so neat," he said, "wearing all my gear under my clothes. No one can see it, but I know it's there. Totally sexy."

"I thought you'd get a kick out of it."

"I'm dripping already."

"You never quit, do you? My horny little colt."

"If I am it's your fault. Keeping a kid in a chastity belt all the time. That's totally sick."

"And you love it."

"Sure do."

We grabbed our few bags and went out to the truck. It was late afternoon now, so we stopped for fast food along the way. I was content to go through the drive up, but Alex insisted on going inside. More and more he loved the idea of his hidden bondage. I was worried that his harness might show through his shirt, but it was thick enough to keep from drawing attention to what was underneath.

The boy polished off two roast beef sandwiches and ate half of my fries along with his own. I had to be careful not to get my fingers too close for fear he'd bite them off. Our food budget was already beginning to explode with a hungry just-turned-teenager in the house, and I knew it would only be getting worse. He paused in his barbaric revelry once in awhile to smile up at me sheepishly.

"Don't know why I'm so hungry all the time," he said.

"Teen – ager," I replied. "Goes with the territory. You'll settle down in a few years."

Alex shrugged his shoulders, gave me a Neanderthal- style grunt, and dove back into his second sandwich.

Back in the truck he was talkative and excited. I remembered our first trip to Robert's place not so long ago. How quiet and pensive and nervous he was, and how much younger he seemed then. It had not even been two months, but boys do change so rapidly at this age, and it was a more mature version of my Alex who was sitting beside me now. And still an incredibly cute one. I reached over and patted my hand on his bare thigh, working it slowly up his smooth soft skin to the hem of his shorts, until it came in contact with the metal that encased his boyhood.

Alexander chuckled wickedly. "Hah! Keeps you frustrated sometimes too, doesn't it?" he teased. "I can't get out and you can't get in!"

"I can wait," I replied. "Days and days if I had to. I've always got that nice little ass of yours to play with. You, on the other hand… are just plain stuck."

"Okay, okay," he laughed. "I get it."

He would be getting it, before the night was over.

Before we rang the bell, I stripped Alex out of his clothes, attached the leash to his collar, and put the ball- gag in the boy's mouth, strapping it tightly behind his head. Michael opened the door to us. He bowed respectfully to me, and smiled brightly at his young counterpart. Robert appeared from his study and gave me firm handshake. He gave Alex a loving and gentle smack on the side of his face, then he put his hand under the boy's chin and stared long into Alexander's eyes.

My boy did not look away.

"Last time you were here," he said to Alex, "you were just a boy. Now I see you are considerably more than that. To be a slave is to be a very special person. You understand that, don't you?"

Alex nodded that he did. I sent him back to bring in our bags, and Michael led us down the hall to a room on the first floor, which would be ours for the next several nights. Alex dutifully lugged everything along behind me. Like everything else about Robert's place, the room was spacious and had a modern feel to it, quite a departure from the two-hundred-year-old house Alex and I lived in. It was a nice escape, and Alex immediately loved all of Robert's electronic gadgetry.

Robert stuck his head in for just a moment. "Why don't you two get comfortable. I'll put some tea on later. The bathroom has a whirlpool if you're interested. Michael will get you started. Make yourselves at home."

Still silenced by the gag, Alex eyed me with desperate excitement. I gave him a little tug on his leash to bring him back in line.

"Unpack our things," I stated firmly. "I'll have Michael show me the works."

Alex got to work, and handsome young Michael showed me to the bathroom, if you could call it that. It was almost as large as the bedroom itself, with a big window that took up an entire wall, offering a wonderful view of Robert's wooded property. The tub looked more like a small pool. It already had water in it, ready and waiting. Michael, in his collar, harness and belt, his usual attire, deftly and expertly got everything started and showed me the basics. The jets came on and set the water rolling.

"It will take a few minutes for the water to heat up, sir," Michael explained after he'd satisfied himself that I knew what I was doing. He brought out a set of towels for us and laid them by the sink, as well as some lotions and oils. "May I get anything else for you, sir?"

"No, Mike, thank you." He bowed his head humbly and turned to leave. I followed him out. Alex was finished with his little task and eagerly waiting for me. Wonderful how thirteen-year-olds can turn into little boys again when they get excited. Michael gave him an affectionate pat on the shoulder. Alex nearly melted.

When it was just the two of us, I told him to come stand in front of me. Alex put his hands behind his head without being told. I ran my fingers playfully up and down his sides, over his chest and stomach, then down his shapely young legs. He purred and sighed and closed his eyes. Touch was electrifying to him, especially when he was in his belt.

"I'm going to keep you gagged for a while," I told him. My young boy just looked so sexy and vulnerable with that dark red ball in his mouth, the leather straps buckled tightly around his head. He blinked his eyes for me just once. Working slowly, I took off his gear. First his harness, then his cuffs, then his belt. All the time I was sensually massaging his soft young skin and the firm developing muscles beneath it. His butt-plug slid out with no trouble at all. Soon he'd be ready for a larger one. The metal pod, rustproof, remained around his cock and balls. Last, as always, was his collar.

There was that look of surrender in his eyes again, and I felt his body relax against my touch. I laid the boy down on the bed and he spread his legs for me. My fingers worked easily into his young rectum, pink and hairless, and no longer quite so tight as it had been. I liked him a little loose. It made penetration less of a struggle for both of us.

Just weeks ago he would have been panting and squirming and wiggling around like a dervish. Now he just lay there utterly contented as I leisurely fingered him. I knew he was feeling it. Every so often his body would give an involuntary shudder or I'd feel his little ring clench up around my fingers. I had three of them inside him now, and could have gotten a fourth if I'd wanted to tear him up or cause him pain. I wanted neither. This was about pleasure. That slow, agonizing, frustrating pleasure he'd learned all at once to love and hate as his immature prostate was relentlessly massaged and stimulated.

Alex was moaning softly and soon his quiet sobs began. Somehow this always wrecked him emotionally, more than anything else we did. I knew that inside the pod the boy's restrained cock was leaking his clear fluid, trying desperately to erect itself. I kept going for a while, keeping that maddening pressure on his insides. Finally, when I figured the water was warm enough for us, I just stopped.

That is the real cruelty and mastery of working the kid's prostate. He would not have an orgasm. He knew it, and yet he had to lay there obediently and silently and endure the unbearable pleasure that suddenly and sharply just ceased. There was no climax, no release. It just stopped. His expression was one of desperation, as it always was at the end. I drew him into my arms and kissed him, running my fingers tenderly over his tightly closed eyes, his freckled nose, his soft cheeks without even the slightest trace of peach-fuzz, and the cold rubber ball in his mouth.

"Let's take a bath," I said.

He clung to me like a little child and I led him into the spacious room where the whirlpool was bubbling and churning, inviting us in. I held him for the first few minutes, but the warm steamy water soon calmed him. I removed his gag and let him go. He scooted around until he sat across from me.

"Feeling better now?" I asked.

His eyes swam, but he smiled. "You really know how to fuck me up," he said, stretching his slender legs out until they were entwined with mine. "I think that's like the cruelest thing you could ever do to somebody. It feels so good, but it never gets anywhere. I always think I'm going to explode, that's what it feels like, but I never do. Even when you make me cum that way it's the same. It's like… like the opposite of an orgasm… whatever that's called."

"I don't think there's a word for it."

"Well, someone should invent one."

We played footsie under the water for a few minutes, Alex splashing and laughing the whole time. Finally he settled down again and came around next to me. We embraced in the warm bubbling water. He dunked himself a few times and tried to get me under once or twice. Then we just sat quietly, his head on my shoulder as the water swirled around us.

I think he was nearly asleep when Robert's quiet knock on the door roused us both. "Tea is ready, gentlemen," he said, then, turning his eyes to Alex, "and I have a chocolate scone with your name on it, young man."

Alex dried me first, as was our ritual, then himself. I put all of his gear back on, and once my thirteen-year-old slave was collared, cuffed, and harnessed, we made our way to the living room. Alex carried his gag, figuring he'd be wearing it again before the night was done.

It was a warm and joyful gathering of friends, some old, some new. Michael and Alex did not wait on us this time, and were given permission to sit down together on the large sofa. We all helped ourselves and had a lively conversation touching on sports and politics, love and war and life in general. I learned that Michael was an astute and exceptionally intelligent young man, and we gave Alex every opportunity to spread his young wings and test out his rapidly evolving sense of the world in all its grown-up complexity.

Thirteen-year-olds are so charmingly idealistic, and so morally sure and certain. It was fun watching him, and fun talking with him. The perspective of a boy can often change your own, if you are adult enough to listen to what he has to say.

"Don't you have something for Michael?" I said to him privately.

Alex blushed fiercely. "I forgot. May I go get it now?"

"We are in Robert's house. I think you need to ask him before you leave the room."

He turned to our host. "Sir, may I be excused? I will come right back."

"Certainly, dear boy," Robert replied, wondering what exactly the young lad had in mind. "He's not sick, is he?"

"I don't think I'd call it a sickness, exactly," was my cryptic reply.

Alex returned with his drawing, still tightly rolled. With it was another piece of paper I hadn't seen him write. He must have stuffed in his bag before we left. Standing as tall as his five-feet [1.50 m] allowed, he marched toward Michael and presented his thoughtful gift of friendship.

The young man was truly surprised to be the recipient. His blue eyes danced and he looked at each of us in his shy, gentle way. He read Alex' little note first, then removed the rubber band and unrolled the drawing. He looked up at Alex in wonder. My boy stood with his hands behind his back, nervously shuffling his feet.

"It's beautiful," I heard Michael say to him. "And yes, I do."

"Share it with us, Michael," said Robert.

"Sir, it's very personal," the young man replied.

Robert and I exchanged a glance then glared at our young slaves sternly.

"None of that. We are your masters," Robert said in a firm voice. "You will not keep any secrets between you. Now read Alexander's letter, Michael."

They looked at one another desperately for a moment. It was Alex' modesty and his feelings that Michael was protecting. Alex finally nodded that it was alright, and Michael began in his soft, youthful voice.

Dear Mike,

I think you're really cute. You're also a great
slave and I'm trying very hard to be just like you. I
drew this picture for you. It's what I feel when I
think about you. I hope you like it. I hope you like me too.

Your friend,
Alex

I was so proud of him. Such a sweet and generous and loving boy. I was so lucky to have him. But, in that moment, I also recognized that my Alex had just given a little piece of himself to someone else, someone very special to him. I was his master, his brother, his guardian, his lover, but Michael was something entirely different, an ideal my boy aspired to, a kind and gentle soul who had unknowingly stolen a young boy's heart.

I thought back to something Robert had said to me many weeks ago, when all of this still seemed so new and strange: That, one day, as my final act of love, I would let my sweet Alex go. Seeing him with Michael now, seeing them together, I saw a vision of that future. And I knew it was right.

Chapter 22
Alex on the Bottom

"On your hands and knees, sweetheart," I said.

"Yes, sir," Alex replied, unable to hide the excitement in his voice.

Robert, Michael and I all stood around him. All three of us were naked, Michael still in his collar and harness, but freed of his chastity belt for the first time in several months. Robert had had all of the young man's body hair permanently removed when he was sixteen, and his smooth tanned skin glistened in the dim soft lamplight of Robert's modern and well-equipped dungeon. I've said before that Michael is a small, slightly-built young man, and this applied to his cock and balls as well. He was just under six inches [15 cm] hard. My Alex was already bigger. But Michael was very thick and beautifully shaped down there, and his balls were large and heavy and no doubt aching for release.

Three men were hard, gazing down at the delicate fragile form of a naked thirteen-year-old boy on his hands and knees. Alex was out of his belt too, and his dick was at full staff and bobbing wildly as only a young teen's can. Like Michael, he was still collared and harnessed. I gave his leash a firm tug and he crawled toward me.

Alex licked the pre-cum from my dick. I handed his leash to Robert, who forced him to do the same. Then came Michael's turn to be cleaned. Mike would not take Alex' leash, but he did moan and sigh when the boy's warm mouth engulfed his perpetually frustrated cock. I pulled Alex back sharply and he settled back into his submissive position on all fours.

"Alex. Stay."

The boy did not move. The three of us all stood in front of him now, staring down at him, hard and hungry for this boy, even Robert, whose tastes normally did not run quite so young, but Alex does have a certain affect on people.

"Alex," our host said in his quietly menacing voice, "tonight you will learn more about what it means to be a slave. You are going to be done, boy, and done good. From now until the time we let you go to sleep not one minute is going to pass when you won't have a dick fucking you at both ends, and one of us working that nice young cock of yours. You will be blindfolded. Michael."

The young man handed the leather blinder to me. I knelt in front of my boy. He was already shaking.

"Frightened?" I asked as I lowered the blindfold over his eyes.

"Yes, sir."

Robert was there beside me, and he gently squeezed the boy's shoulders. "We won't let any harm come to you. You are loved, Alex, and you will be loved the way a slave should. Will you trust us?"

"Yes, sirs." His answer was immediate and carried no doubt, fear yes, but no doubt.

As Robert was our host, it was only fair that he take the boy first. Alex gasped in horror when I gave Robert permission to fuck him. I felt so guilty, but Alex needed to learn that being a slave meant his master could share him with others, or give his little ass away. His sole duty was to obey.

"Tell us your safeword, Alex."

"It's butterfly, sirs," he said. His young voice was suddenly very high and trembling.

Robert knelt down in front of him and held the boy's head in his hands. "Listen very carefully, Alex, this is very important. Most of the time you will not be able to speak. If you need to say your word and you can't, tap whoever is in front of you three times on the leg. That's all you have to do and everything stops. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir, thank you, sir."

"This is not about hurting you, or shaming you. This is about training you, young man, to endure things you never thought you could. I'm going to fuck you now, and you are going to give your master a fine sucking."

No more was said. Robert and I took our positions on our knees in front and behind him. Michael dutifully lay on his back and worked his way beneath our boy-on-all-fours. We let him go first, and he gave Alex a slow leisurely stroking, working the thirteen-year-old's foreskin up and down with a firm, milking grip. Alex moaned, and that was my signal to start. He sucked me feverishly for a moment, until Robert carefully but ruthlessly entered him. Then, I'm sure, the boy's entire world turned to madness.

Alex was being plugged at both ends. Robert had taken forceful possession of his sweet young boyhole, with long powerful thrusts of a cock considerably larger and thicker than my own. I was in my boy's mouth, holding his head firmly in my hands as I worked my cock down his throat. I timed my thrusts, so that I entered every time Robert withdrew. It was driving the kid wild. Between the boy's trembling legs, Michael had taken control of Alex' cock, giving him firm, loving strokes, taking him to the edge and then denying him.

"Milk him good, Mike," I ordered. The young man, entirely ignoring his own throbbing erection, did just that. Before long a steady stream of pre-cum was dripping onto the soft mat that covered the floor. Alex moaned and purred and would have shouted had his master's cock not kept him quiet.

After about twenty minutes, Robert and I switched places. Neither of us had cum yet. Alex knew something was happening, but in his blindfold he could not see. We began again. I felt my boy tense, just for a moment, as I pressed my cock deep into his gaping hole, red and ravaged. Robert had indeed torn him just a bit, but there was no bleeding to speak of. In a single thrust I entered him. He whimpered and sobbed, then had his voice abruptly cut off by Robert's giant cock worming down his narrow throat.

"Is he still hard?" I asked Michael as I slid roughly in and out of my boy.

"Yes, sir."

"Keep him that way. Tell me when he cums."

It was perhaps another half-hour of intense fucking before that finally happened. I felt Alex' little ring clench around my cock, he moaned deeply and softly, and the boy's sperm was soon dribbling from his penis onto the floor. Robert got the frantic sucking of his life as Alex once again endured the sensation of cumming without orgasm. The kid was shaking, clawing his hands desperately into the soft mat beneath him. Seeing Alex in his spasmodic sexual frenzy sent Robert and me over the edge. We both came together and filled him from both ends with our seed.

I pulled out slowly. My juices trickled from the boy's gaping hole and ran down his legs. I could see it dripping from his mouth as well. Normally Alex swallowed everything, but he was too frantic and too worn out to bother. My boy remained submissively on his hands and knees, waiting for his masters to take him again. Alex knew we were only just beginning, but we would need a few minutes to recover before we started over, and we were not about to leave him empty. Robert worked a large butt-plug up Alexander's ass, nearly twice the size he was used to. I strapped his gag in place. Through it all, young Alex was completely silent and obedient. To keep him limber while we recharged, Michael was told to take the boy by his leash and lead him around the dungeon on all fours. It was an endearing, and arousing sight.

Michael was very hesitant at first, unsure of this new unfamiliar role he was being asked to play. His position in Robert's house had been unambiguous since he was fifteen years old, but Alex' presence here had abruptly changed that. Among the four of us, there was simply no question that Alex was a bottom of the most profound magnitude, thus young Michael found himself unexpectedly thrust into a dominant role. It made him visibly uncomfortable, but it was utterly impossible to imagine this scene ever being reversed. In any hierarchy of dominance and submission, Alex would always be the last link in the chain.

Hesitance aside, Michael was a faithful and loyal slave, and followed his master's orders without question. And, he did gradually begin to assert himself. Before long he had my young Alex under his firm and strict control, pulling firmly but always gently on the leash, reaching down and giving the thirteen-year-old's cute little ass a nice swat whenever he strayed too far away. I couldn't help but smile.

"Seems Mikey is enjoying himself," I observed.

"I believe he's learning something tonight as well," Robert replied with a certain light in his eyes.

Michael had Alex back in position and waiting for us. The plug came out, the gag came off and we started on him again. Alex had surrendered totally. Even the deepest submissives put up a little instinctual resistance at first, but now he just stayed there on his hands and knees, his only movement resulting from the powerful thrusts of the cocks buried in his mouth and rear end. His only sounds were those deep mournful groans that told me he was in another world.

I lost track of the time, focusing all my thoughts on delaying my next orgasm as long as possible. We probably carried on this way, switching several times, for another two hours. By the end, the boy's arms and legs had turned to rubber. Robert and I held him up as we continued to use him. Alex' strong ecstatic groans were becoming frail whimpers of exhaustion. Finally, as my cock swelled in his throat, I felt three weak little taps on my leg. His hand remained there, gripping tightly to my thigh.

"That's three," I announced.

Immediately we all stopped. With great care and tenderness, Robert gradually pulled out. Alex collapsed on his stomach, splayed out and motionless, unable to even manage a wiggle. He was breathing softly. I left him in his blindfold. Robert and I still had some unfinished business throbbing between our legs.

Michael dutifully offered his mouth. I must confess he is very skilled, though I missed the warmth and smallness of my own boy. He did his master last, and they ended with the rough kiss I'd seen before. Michael was now the only one of us who hadn't spilled his seed in some way, and his cock was still rock-hard. I don't remember him softening even once the entire time.

"May I help him with his little problem, Robert?"

"By all means."

The young man blushed visibly, especially at the word 'little'. There was no denying it though. Compared to the other three cocks in the room, his was the junior member. And I'm sure Alexander's more than generous endowment was a source of embarrassment for him. Being smaller than your master is one thing, being smaller than a boy who was still in middle school was quite another. In truth, Mike's cock, while not large by anyone's measure, was certainly more than adequate, and it was quite thick and meaty, making up in girth what it lost in length, with a perfect curve to it. A beautiful organ. Feeling I'd unintentionally hurt his feelings, I took the eighteen-year-old's penis in my hand and stroked it gently.

"It's really very beautiful, Michael," I said to him. "I think you're perfect the way you are."

Mike smiled at me, and, bless him, he moved close and rested his head on my shoulder as I slowly masturbated him. His really has the perfect cock for a slave. Large enough to have fun with when a master desires it, small enough to simply ignore the rest of the time. I've often wondered why nature saw fit to give Alex such a big one, when his natural tendencies meant that he would be using it so seldom.

It wasn't long before Michael shot into my hand. There wasn't much, and I could see it gave him very little pleasure. Robert had given him a thorough milking not two days earlier.

"I believe slaves should be kept dry," the seasoned master explained. "Makes them much happier when they don't have to think about cumming all the time."

I'm not sure if 'happy' was an accurate description for Michael at that moment. Sexual frustration can become a permanent state of existence if a young man is denied long enough. Robert was clearly taking Michael in a direction that I did not want Alex and I to go, at least not entirely.

Alex was still stretched out on his stomach when we returned to him. I knelt beside him and removed the blindfold, kissing his eyelids tenderly before they fluttered open.

"Feeling okay?" I asked.

He moaned weakly as I took his hand. "Hmmm. Can't move," he whispered.

I began to massage his shoulders. Robert and Michael soon joined me, rubbing Alex' back and his thighs. The boy now had six firm gentle hands caressing him, soothing his tired aching muscles. I rubbed his arms, Michael rubbed his feet, Robert straddled him and pressed his hands into the small of his back. Alex sighed, lost in the simple pleasure of our tender, loving ministrations. Touch has always been important to him, a physical connection to those he loves. He cannot live a day without it.

"Still awake, little man?"

His eyes opened lazily. "Yes, sir."

I got him to his feet. He was often quite talkative after a scene, but not tonight. It was still far too intense for him to make sense of. There had been a darkness in this room, and not because of his blindfold. He felt it surrounding him, and as much as it frightened him, it also compelled him. The boy just gazed at us all sleepily.

"Take him upstairs, Steven," Robert said softly. "I believe he's given us all he has tonight."

Indeed he had. I put my arm around him and together we climbed the steps, leaving Robert and Michael alone. I had a feeling their night was just beginning.

I awoke to that strange feeling that something was missing. I realized it was Alex. He'd fallen asleep in my arms, snoring softly as young boys do, even before I could pull the blankets over us. All night his small, warm, naked body lay next to mine. Its sudden absence was unpleasant. I knew why he was gone, and that only made it colder. He was off by himself, thinking about last night. That meant he'd be wanting to talk about it. I lay back, and a slight shiver crept over me when I recalled what we'd done to him, how harsh and cruel we had been, how relentless, how merciless. And how we'd used him, that was the word, wasn't it?

As I dressed and went off to find him, I had only one thought, one I could not even bring myself to finish. Steven, if you've made that boy hate you…

I found him out on the deck. He was naked, leaning his elbows on the wooden rail, gazing off into the woods, still shrouded in morning mist. It was a touching scene, this young boy alone in the wide, wide world. Alex still seemed so small, and everything else so big, yet I knew that deep inside the boy had grown and that the world was no longer so dark and scary to him. After just watching for a moment, I quietly stepped beside him.

"Hey," I finally said, breaking the silence.

"Hey," Alex answered back. "You're up early."

Over the last month I'd come to enjoy making Alex wait in the mornings, leaving him chained to his bed or locked in his cage. Slaves spent a lot of their time just waiting, and it was a lesson Alex had already begun to learn.

"I got lonely," I replied.

Alex yawned. "I just couldn't stay in bed any longer."

"Busy brain this morning?"

"Yep."

"Feel like talking about it?"

Alex gave me a wise look far beyond his years. "You could just make me tell you."

"I could, but I won't."

An unsure smile, then those beautiful thoughtful eyes. "Last night was the hardest thing I've ever done," he said. "I really felt like a slave. I mean, I always do, but last night I was the slave, you know, even to Michael."

"How did that make you feel?"

"Scared at first," Alex replied honestly. "Three masters all at once is tough, but then I got into it. God, you were all so hard on me, and you just kept going after me. I didn't think it was ever going to stop. I… I liked being used that way. That's what last night was all about, wasn't it?"

I nodded and put my arm around him. The boy moved closer and pressed his slender naked frame against me.

"Part of me really hated you for letting Robert fuck me, for just… just giving me away like that."

"I know, Alex. That's part of what it means to be a slave. You handled it very well."

"I didn't think you'd really let it happen," Alex said. "At first I was waiting for you to stop it. When you didn't, everything just went all crazy. I've never felt that way before, even with all the stuff we've done. It's like I was just… " he paused, trying to put the feeling into words, "just a piece of… of furniture or something, just a place for you and Master Robert to put your dicks whenever you felt like it."

"Slaves are property, Alex," I reminded him rather coldly.

"And you can do whatever you want with me," he continued on his own. There was that look of needful submission in his eyes again. I was relieved to see it, and ready to take him a little further.

"I certainly can, and I certainly will." I locked my hand around his slender wrist. "And right now you have your morning duties to perform. On your knees."

The boy was down in front of me instantly, reaching out to pull my boxers down.

"Hands behind your back," I said, giving them both a quick slap.

"But how…"

"You have a mouth, Alex, don't you?"

"Oh, wow."

"No talking."

Being careful not to bite me, Alex took a mouthful of my boxers and began to tug them down. This was a new level of humiliation for him, and he was breathing hard with excitement. Actually his breathing wasn't the only thing that was hard at the moment. I raised my foot and pressed it roughly into his soft dangly scrotum, feeling his balls retreat against my toes. Alex moaned as the pressure and pain shot through him. Kicking him down there would have simply been brutish. No, a small amount of force, constantly and relentlessly applied, is often the most effective discipline. Even as I toyed with him, he wrapped his warm mouth around my cock and went at it.

"You spilled some last night," I recalled. "Don't do that again."

With his lips encircling my dick he shook his head. It's a beautiful sight, a gentle thirteen-year-old boy with a big throbbing penis in his mouth, impaling his sweet face. His hazel eyes always remained so strikingly innocent in these moments. After just a few minutes, I grabbed him by the ears and came with violent thrusts. Alex gagged and sputtered, but did not let a drop of my seed fall from his lips.

Taking a cue from Robert, I pushed him away harshly. Alex ended up on his back, his legs spread submissively. I worked my foot over his cock, pressing my heel into his balls.

"Does this hurt?"

"Yes, sir," he answered in a strained voice.

I knelt down over him, pressing my knee between his legs, slowly, firmly. Alex writhed and gasped.

"Don't move."

With my knee grinding into his teenaged balls, I worked the boy's nipples, twisting and pinching and flicking them with my fingers until they were hard. His taut muscular stomach was rising and falling in heaving breaths now. I stuck a single finger into his perfect little navel and pressed down hard. Alex growled at me, and his rigid cock surged.

I took my knee away and straddled him now. He gazed up at me with wild and desperate eyes. I love him like this. You can almost smell the sex. I grabbed his penis and stroked it hard and fast.

"Aahh, ahhh, please, please, sir, aaahhh, please, aaaahhhh." Alex thrust his narrow hips madly, and shot his young sperm onto his chest. He lay there motionless. His eyes were closed, a look of satisfaction and joy was written upon his face.

"Very nice, Steven," I heard Robert say with a chuckle.

I looked up to see him standing in the doorway, with a cup of coffee in his hand. I wondered how long he'd been watching us.

"You've got that slave begging you," he said as he joined us and looked down at my prone and freshly drained boy. "Priceless."

"He is that," I replied. Alex managed to prop himself up on his elbows and offered a shy 'good morning' to our host.

"I thought you'd told me no orgasms for the young man," Robert said as we helped Alex to his feet.

"I changed my mind," was the best rejoinder I could come up with. It may have seemed indecisive and unmasterly to Robert, but I had discovered that just keeping Alex from cumming was not really the point, and not really enough for either of us. Denial is not really control. It is simply denial, and it was already becoming too easy for my submissive boy. No, it was time to shift the ground beneath him once again. Making the boy cum, whenever, wherever, and however I felt like it would be the true and final expression of my total control over his sex. I'd always keep him on the edge, but he'd never know from week to week, month to month, or even day to day, if he'd be allowed to have an orgasm or not.

Chastity would still be the general rule for my boy, but already I envisioned weekends where he'd have to keep himself hard and shooting over and over again until his cock was red and raw and sore. Then, I'd put him right back into his belt.

"Twist him around," Robert said, seemingly having read my thoughts and approved. "I like it. And so will you, young man." He raised the boy's eyes to his own with a firm hand under the chin.

Alex stared back at him. "Whatever my master decides for me is best, sir."

The older master laughed and gave my young slave a loving little slap to his face. "Such impertinence today, little one, perhaps we didn't fuck you quite hard enough."

Just the thought of repeating last night's session set the boy's eyes wide and dancing. Fear and desire, it was so arousing watching these two extremes tear him slowly apart.

"Michael is cleaning up the dungeon this morning. May I put this young colt to work in the kitchen?"

"Let me get him harnessed and belted first," I replied. I took Alex by the hand and led him back to the bedroom. Getting him into his gear was still a wonderful moment between us, its routine in no way diminishing the profound meaning of his strict bondage and chastity. Harnessed, belted, always collared. I worked the plug up his ass and strapped it in place. I put his thigh cuffs on as well, just because they made him look so sexy. With his leash in place, I ordered him on all fours and walked him out to the kitchen, where Robert was patiently waiting for him. I noticed a slender riding crop in his hand.

"He's all yours," I said as I handed Robert the boy's leash and tacitly nodded my approval of the crop. "Do whatever Master Robert tells you, Alex."

"Yes, sir."

I returned to the living room to enjoy the magnificent view from the windows, and the fresh coffee awaiting me on the table. I heard Robert order Alex to stand up, the quick swishing of the crop through the air, and Alex' submissive little squeal as it made contact with his rear end. After that I tuned everything out.

Alex was becoming a great little kitchen drudge, and Robert again proved himself a gracious host, fixing an enormous breakfast. We ate together in his sunny kitchen. Alex with his behind nicely reddened, and Michael sat on the floor with their plates in front of them. As Alex was finishing off his third waffle of the morning, I could not help but smile.

"You never made breakfast like this for me when I stayed with you," I said to Robert.

"My dear Steven," he waved a finger at me in admonishment, "you were in no condition for breakfast when you stayed with me."

Alex shot his head up and looked at me with questioning eyes. I'd dropped enough hints over the last two months, and he knew that Robert and I had some sort of past related to my less sober days.

"How much does the boy know?" Robert asked, looking sidelong at Alex.

"Just that you helped me. I've left the rest to his imagination."

Robert laughed and patted Alex on the head. "Keep imagining, boy. You weren't the first member of your family to spend time in my dungeon, just the first one to be fucked there."

Alex winced a little at the memory of last night, then gave me a dark smirk. "You must have really been messed up."

He had no idea. Then again, maybe he did.

After breakfast, Michael returned to the dungeon with Alex in tow. Robert explained to me over a final cup of coffee that a slave should be fully responsible for the care and maintenance of the implements of his own pain and discipline. "Michael is punished severely if I ever find dust or dirt down there. All the leather is to be cleaned and oiled, all the metal to be buffed and polished. Gives the boy a proper perspective. You should put Alex on such a regimen, if you haven't already."

Up until now, creating our dungeon had been a joint effort between man and boy, but now that it was taking shape, it was time to add it to the growing list of Alexander's duties. Robert and I spent the next several hours discussing the finer points of raising a boy slave. Robert had done it successfully, and although Michael had already been a teenager when he took him in, his experiences were still valuable and insightful.

"Alex is very intelligent," Robert reminded me of the obvious, not for the first time, "in a very subtle and devious kind of way. I don't mean that as an insult, it is simply part of his character. I saw it last night. You were ready to give in and let him off the hook…"

I shook my head in protest, but Robert stilled me with a masterful stare.

"There is no shame in admitting that you are compassionate and gentle, Steven, even if you are a sadist. The two are not mutually exclusive as some might think. Alex knows it, and he uses it whenever it suits him. You were ready to stop. To hug and hold and keep evil Robert from hurting your sweet and gentle boy. And Alex played you perfectly… he had you dancing for him. I could see it in your eyes. It is to your credit that you didn't let him have his way."

"This morning he told me he thought I'd make you stop. He was upset that I didn't."

"So, a little bit of truth from the young man."

"Alex does not lie," I said strongly.

"Of course he doesn't," Robert replied without any sarcasm. "I don't believe he is capable of lying to you, such is his love for you, but he is quite skilled at not telling the truth. Do you see the difference?"

I nodded.

"He keeps his true feelings close to his skin. Every once in a while, he lets you see the depths, but mostly he keeps you at a safe distance. Doesn't he?"

It was true. Alex would embrace all the pain I could give him, but the pain inside his tormented young soul was something he had never truly shared with me. I remembered that day, almost five years ago, when he walked silently beside me, staring up at me with those haunted eyes. There was accusation there and even a little hate, just for a moment. He'd managed to hide it over the years, but I knew it was still there, the feeling, the truth, that the one person in the world who could have saved him from his torment had abandoned him to it instead.

I've come to swear that Robert is a mind reader, at least mine. He took my hand gently and smiled at me, and I could tell by his expression that he understood.

"That is why he has chosen you to be his master. He sees you as his executioner and his savior, all at once. He does hate you, you know, every bit as much as he loves you. It is a paradox he cannot deal with, one he needs you to fix for him."

"A few weeks ago he told me it wasn't my fault… that he was abused."

"Naturally. And he wants to believe that, desperately. But he can't. His heart keeps telling him it's a lie."

"How do I fix him?" I asked.

"You already are, Steven. I'm sure he's told you that too."

"He has. You're making me better."

"And that is the honest truth. Never be afraid to be his master. Never be afraid to be cruel. And never give in to him. He has his safeword, and you have taught him, with some pain, to use it. That is all either of you need. Take him far, Steven, take that boy the very edge of his endurance, and then make him take another step with you. He may stumble, but as long as you are beside him, he will not fall."

Chapter 23
Discipline

Michael and Alex returned from their morning labors in the dungeon. It was a sweet scene, watching the thirteen- year-old practically skip along behind the young man, adoration in his hazel eyes.

"The stallion and the colt," Robert proclaimed with a warm laugh. It was a perfectly fitting description of our handsome pair. And a pair they were, and would be. "We should keep them together as much as possible when we visit my friends tomorrow. They will make quite an attractive spectacle. You will be coming, won't you?"

Another of Robert's now famous inquiries that sounded more like a command. Normally they were, but in this case I knew it was choice that had to be made freely, at least for one of us. One of us, of course, had no choice.

I looked at Alex. By his expression I could tell he'd overheard the end of our conversation. His young eyes were bright, hoping I would say yes.

"No, Master Steven," Robert said to me in his soft, commanding manner. "Do not look at him. This is your decision, not his."

Turning away from my boy, I had to make this momentous choice for both of us. It was actually far easier than I'd expected, now that Robert had stripped away all room for debate. That was his way, I remember it well from times past. He would let you dangle on the edge of indecision for as long as it suited him, and then he would quietly force your hand. Either Alex and I went, or we didn't. I had no time for consequences or compromise.

"I need an answer, Steven."

I'd already made my choice. "We'd be honored."

Under his breath an excited "Yes!" escaped Alex' throat.

I turned and stared at him, and suddenly I was quite angry. I had agonized over this decision for weeks, carefully considering what it might do to him, thinking of the boy's safety, his vulnerability, his fragile youth, thinking of all the terrible things that could go wrong. My entire world it seemed revolved around this boy, my little brother, my sweet intelligent Alex… my clever manipulative Alex, standing there celebrating his latest victory, with a rather too smart look on his cute face. He would learn there is a price.

"Robert, I want that boy gagged," I said, letting my displeasure with Alex show, for in that moment it was real. "Something very hard, and very harsh, and right now."

"I have just the thing. Michael, fetch your penis gag, please."

I think Alex expected Mike to plead for him. The crestfallen look on his young face was priceless when the senior slave bowed his head humbly and walked off to follow his master's orders. So, Alex could be surprised. I was beginning to wonder.

Michael was back just a short moment later, with the cruelest gag I had ever seen. It was leather, thick, black and obviously well used. It was almost a muzzle, for when strapped on around the head it would cover the entire mouth. There was a stubby latex cock attached to the inside, three inches [7½ cm] long to stuff a slave's throat and keep him quiet.

Alex eyed it with giddy terror.

I grabbed the gag from Michael's hands and pulled my boy toward me, locking my fingers in an iron grip around his slender right arm. Alex knows when I'm not kidding. He opened his mouth and I forced the gag in swiftly and harshly, making him take all of it at once. I pulled the straps hard around his head and buckled him in as tightly as I could without knocking out any teeth. Alex was terrified. I just made him stand there.

"Shall we take him downstairs," Robert suggested. "I believe our little colt needs a good spanking."

"No," I replied, feeling a satisfying surge of power. "He'd enjoy that too much. Fifty push-ups, Alex. Now!"

I have never seen that boy move so fast. He hit the floor and came right back up with his first push-up. With his strong and firm young muscles he powered easily through the first twenty-five. The second half proved much harder for my growing boy. He was somewhere around thirty when I put my foot between his shoulders, just as he was about to come back up. Alex tried several times to carry out his master's orders, with his master's foot pressing down on his back. He is a strong kid, but no match for a grown man. He was pinned and he knew it. The boy's head was turned to one side, that horrible gag in his mouth contorting his cute features, his right cheek pressed against the rug. Tears were moistening his face.

That was all I wanted to see. I let him go, and he finished his push-ups.

"May I suggest he be hog-tied for a while," Robert said.

I agreed.

"Ever done it to him?" he asked, as Michael was once again sent running. I had. Once, when he was about nine and we were both just horsing around and wrestling, he asked me to tie him up 'real tight and stretchy' in his own words. I put him in a mild hog-tie, and only left him for about fifteen minutes. He loved it and begged me for more. I should have seen all the signs right then and there.

The boy's experience today was going to be quite different. Michael returned with several lengths of rope, thick and unforgiving. Robert and I worked quickly, pulling the thirteen-year-old's arms back as far and hard as we dared, eliciting a painful groan from the gagged boy. We tied his right wrist to his left ankle, and his left wrist to his right, then we wrapped the rope thickly around those slender bound joints. I looped another rope around the boy's elbows and cinched them together as close and tight as I could get them. Then Robert did something that surprised me, and actually frightened me for just a moment. He put his large powerful arms beneath the kid's bound-up wrists and ankles, and actually lifted my hog-tied Alex off the floor. Not even a full inch, but the strain on the boy's muscles must have been unbearable. Alex was screaming into his gag.

"Where would you like him?" Robert asked mischievously over the boy's high-pitched wails.

I looked around the living room, peered into the kitchen, and then let my eyes wander out the windows. The sun was already warm and blazing. It was going to be climbing into the nineties certainly. Robert read the wicked smile on my lips.

"Outside," I said.

Robert kept his grip, and I steadied my boy's shoulders to relieve some of the weight. We carried him gagged and helpless out the front door. Robert's driveway is packed crushed stone, and it was already nice and warm.

"Should I drop him?" the seasoned master asked with a wink that Alex couldn't see.

"Mmmph! Mmmph!" was the boy's frantic response.

"No, just put him down… and I don't want to hear another sound from you, little man," I told my boy. All he'd said was one word, but it had been the wrong one, at the wrong time. We left him there to bake in the mid-morning sun. He called after me desperately through his gag. As if they had a will of their own, my feet slowed. I moved to turn back to him, but Robert's hand was there on my shoulder.

"Don't undo what you've done, Steven. This is an important lesson."

We went inside together, and I closed the door.

Alex was alone out there for the first half-hour. After that, Michael or Robert would go out every ten or fifteen minutes to make sure he was not in any real distress. Occasionally I'd gaze out the window and watch him. The boy was bound too tightly to manage any but the smallest movement. He'd lift his head once in a while and strain against the ropes. I knew the crushed stone beneath him was causing a lot of discomfort, that and the fact that he couldn't do a thing about it. Alex would turn his head toward the house every time the door opened, expecting me to come and free him, only to have his hopes dashed when his master did not appear. And so he rested his head on the unforgiving ground once more.

Clouds began to roll in. The day called for afternoon rain. The first drops were just beginning to fall when I finally went outside. Alex had been out there for close to two hours. At first he just stared at me, and made a little motion with his bound wrists, wiggling his fingers. Then his eyes watered when I knelt down and took his head into my hands. He pressed into them, longing and needful of my touch.

"Do you understand?" I asked.

He nodded as the tears began to fall, and he blinked his eyes for me just once. I kissed him on the forehead, then reached behind and loosened the straps. I took the gag out. Alex was silent, and his hazel eyes were fixed on me. I ran my fingers over his arms and legs, feeling the tight strain in his muscles. The rain was falling harder now, a beautiful sight as it danced over his smooth bare skin still hot from exposure to the sun. He was a little red, but it would just serve to darken his already sun-browned tan by the time the day was over.

"Thirsty?" I asked.

Alex opened his mouth to answer me. I gripped his jaw firmly.

"No more talking. Just answer."

He nodded his head yes. I could tell he was close to tears once again. Then he blurted it out. I knew he couldn't help it. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

Just like him to back me into a corner. It was the most sincere apology Alex had ever given me. It was also willful disobedience of the order I'd just given him. I knew what I had to do. I looked at him softly and stroked his chestnut- brown hair, wet with sweat and new-fallen rain. Then I put the gag back in his mouth and buckled it behind his head. I will never forget his eyes in that moment. Ever.

"You're forgiven, Alex," I said. I turned around and left my boy once more, alone in the rain.

I was crying when I reached the front door. Robert took my hand, then put his arms around me in a gentle hug.

"What did he say?" he asked, gazing over my shoulder at the hog-tied boy lying naked in the rain.

"He said he was sorry, Robert." I nearly lost it right there.

"Did he mean it?"

"Of course he did."

Robert's gray eyes became thoughtful. "Ten more minutes in the rain, just enough to make him think you won't be back. Then bring him inside. I won't advise you about the gag, that's something between the two of you. I'll be with Michael in the study. Bring him with you once you've got him dried off."

And then he turned and left me. Alex and I were both alone now.

Ten minutes felt like ten hours. Finally I opened to door and stepped out into the rain. The first rolls of the thunder could be heard in the distance. I came back to him. He was drenched and miserable and shaking. The ropes were wet and slick, and I had a little trouble getting them off. I untied his elbows first, then his wrists and ankles. With a soft groan he tried to roll himself onto his back. Gently I helped him. His frequent attempts to get loose had earned him a few scratches from the coarse stones beneath him. They were mostly on his stomach, which had been pressed against the ground the entire time. He winced when I ran my fingers over the red and irritated skin.

"Let's get you up."

Alex sniffled and did his best, but his arms and legs wouldn't cooperate. He looked at me helplessly. With my hands under his arms I pulled him to his feet. He wrapped his arms around me immediately and would not let go. Our walk back to the house was slow, despite the rain.

I took him to our bedroom and dried him off. The boy was utterly limp in my arms as I rubbed him with plush towels. When I was finished, I let him put his shorts on over his belt. After lying there in the rain, I knew some real clothing would feel good to him. His eyes smiled at me, softly.

"Let's try one more time," I said, and I reached behind his head and undid the buckles. The gag dropped from the thirteen-year-old's mouth.

"Now, I want you to be quiet for the rest of the day," I explained as I held him. "That means no talking. Understood?"

Alex nodded and wiped his eyes again.

"If you need something, show me with your hands, if you absolutely can't, then ask me for permission to speak. Remember I don't have to say yes."

Alex nodded.

"If you use any other words, or make any other sound, the gag goes back in." I held it up to him. My boy took a little step back. Was he actually cringing just from the sight of it? "I don't think you'd want to sleep in this, would you?"

He shook his head emphatically. Alex really and truly hated that gag. Naturally, through Robert's generosity, it was added to our permanent collection that night.

Alex then got a thoughtful look on his face. He shuffled away, still nursing his sore and aching joints. There was paper and pen on the desk in the room and he started writing. The boy came back just a few moments later and handed a note to me.

'What about my safeword?' he'd written in his undisciplined youthful style.

I laughed and gave him a little swat on his behind. "That's probably cheating, but since you're so clever I'll let it go. And don't worry. I promise we won't do anything today that would make you need to use it. You have your master's word."

Bending his leg up, he used his thigh as a writing surface and scribbled Good enough for me.

"Alright, no more paper, kiddo. I'll have to put mittens on you next."

His eyes got that wicked light in them that told me he liked the idea very much. We hugged, and shared a kiss, and then, making him carry the gag, the boy followed me silently into Robert's study. We were going to be taking a very large step tomorrow, and I imagined Robert had a lot he needed to tell us.

The older man's bearded face betrayed a brief smile when he saw thirteen-year-old Alex in his silky soccer shorts. He also noticed the light scratches on my boy's stomach.

"I'll give you some ointment for him before you put him to bed," Robert said to me. "So, young man, have you learned your lesson?"

Alex nodded his head sharply.

"Answer me when I ask you a question, boy!" Robert yelled, giving me a knowing wink.

Alex looked at me in confused terror. I gave his little butt another pat. It was every bit as cute under the blue shorts as it was bare.

"He's not allowed to speak, Master Robert," I said, letting my boy off the hook, "or make a sound." On my instructions, Alex handed the gag to Robert for safekeeping.

"Ah. Wonderful. He was getting a little too cheeky for his own good." All of this was for Alex' benefit and he blushed accordingly. "I am glad you've decided to straighten him out. We'll just keep this close by, in case he forgets his place again." He laid the gag in plain view on the table beside the sofa.

Robert and I then relaxed in our comfortable chairs. Michael and Alex were instructed to seat themselves on hard tall wooden stools directly in front of us. Michael had been trained to do this since he was fifteen, for Alex it was an awkward moment and he struggled to find his balance. Michael reached out an arm to steady his junior companion.

"Let him figure it out on his own, Michael, " I said.

It didn't take long for the kid to find his balance. He was so cute, with his strong and slender legs bent up and spread, and his fast-growing teenaged feet curled around the wooden rungs. Alex copied Michael's posture exactly, sitting up straight with his hands on his knees. Robert and I couldn't help but smile at our attractive young slaves.

Robert's visage then became somber and serious and he addressed Alex in his soft, scholarly way. "There are some things we must discuss, Alex, rules and behavior you must learn tonight and remember. Tomorrow will be your first time among masters and slaves you don't know."

The boy looked at me in anxious excitement.

"I need your attention, young man," Robert said sternly.

Alex quickly straightened up again and locked his hazel eyes on him.

"Good. I will not repeat myself. Rules are for your own protection, Alex, so you won't wander into trouble."

The boy nodded and kept his eyes fixed on Robert.

"First, you will not speak. I'm rather glad you are learning that lesson today, it will help you a great deal tomorrow. If a master says hello to you, or remarks how cute you are, or asks you a simple question, you may acknowledge him with your eyes, and nod your head. If a master asks you anything more complicated than that, he is testing you. Do not answer. He knows such questions should be addressed to your master, not you. Look over at Steven immediately. He will answer for you."

Alex nodded that he understood.

"Intelligent boy. Oh," Robert asked tenderly, "how old are you now?"

I saw the wheels turning in the boy's eyes. A soft smirk crossed his lips and he looked directly at me. I smiled. "He's thirteen, Robert."

Our friend and mentor laughed. Michael chuckled too. "Score one for you, little colt," Robert said. "Don't forget. You will be tested many times tomorrow."

Alex swallowed hard and looked a little frightened by that.

"Don't be afraid, son," Robert said. "All three of us will be there to help you, but a slave is responsible for his own behavior. Our expectations are high. Now, I understand Master Steven has given you orders not to bow your head. That's fine, but it will make life difficult for you tomorrow. There will be times, my dear boy, when you will wish you could keep your eyes on the ground. But you will not do that. If a master chooses to study you, you will return his gaze. Show him respect. I do not want to see that same defiance I saw when you and I were in the kitchen this morning."

"Alex!" I confess I shouted at him. The boy actually blushed in embarrassment.

"Nothing the riding crop could not correct, Steven. Perhaps some additional spankings before bed will serve as penance."

"You can count on that."

Robert continued. "Always stay close to your master, Alex. That is very important. If you forget or break every other rule we give you, do not forget that one. If you should get separated… and I know a few masters who may try to do that to you… look for me or Michael. We will take care of you until Steven finds you. Samuel Collins will also be there. He can help you as well."

There was true fear in the boy's eyes now for the first time, and he was beginning to understand just how dark and serious tomorrow's adventure would be. Robert went on, more slowly, and more gently. Alex was starting to tremble.

"Most of the masters you will meet are good people, Alex. They will be amazed at how much you've learned in such a short time. They will recognize that you are young and make certain allowances for you. They would die to protect you if they thought you were in danger, just as Steven and I would do. However," and his voice was filled with menace and warning, "there are others who are not so good, others I suspect would enjoy hurting a cute young boy. You will be in your belt and plugged the entire time, but a clever master knows ways to get at you even if he does not hold your keys. Be careful. Do not flirt. That's how little boys get raped. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

Alex gasped and nodded sharply. That ugly word stung him and brought back terrible memories. He was squirming uncomfortably on his stool.

"Just because you're a slave, it does not mean you don't deserve respect. In fact, you deserve respect because you're a slave. Understand?"

The boy nodded his head and blinked. A little tear fell from the corner of his right eye.

"No one has a right to touch you, or make you do anything, without your master's permission. Not even me. Do you need to wipe your eyes?"

Alex nodded again.

"Go ahead. Take some time to compose yourself."

Alex stood up and got a tissue. I wanted to pull him into my arms and hug him, but it didn't feel right. Tenderness would offer him too quick and too easy an escape. This was rough ground for him, with more to come, and he had to find a way to navigate it on his own. He would always be submissive. I did not want him to be dependent. I did smile at him, then gestured him back to his stool.

Robert went on to explain that there would be sex, a great deal of it, some of it very hard and very nasty. Alex would participate in as much or as little of it as I desired. The boy shivered. I leered at him playfully.

"You will meet experienced sadists, Steven. I will introduce you. They can teach you to inflict unimaginable pain on Alex, without fear of causing him permanent damage."

Alex nearly fell off his stool hearing that. Robert chuckled lightly. "That got his attention, didn't it?"

Unable to apologize, Alex awkwardly got himself back into the proper position.

"Now, dear boy, you will encounter many slaves with modifications. Do you know what that means?"

Alex thought for just a second, then rubbed his thumb and index finger over the gold ring in his ear.

"Excellent. You have sharp instincts, boy, but an earring is common these days. You've had yours since you were how old?"

The boy almost slipped and answered Robert's question, but he quickly caught himself and turned his face to mine.

"Alex got pierced when he was nine," I replied.

Robert clapped his hands. "You are becoming quite good at this, Alex."

My sweet boy nodded his head, and his eyes beamed with pride.

"Well, you will be seeing more than a few earrings, I can tell you that. Things in places you might not want to think about. You will be a curious boy, I know, but do not stare. That would be rude." Robert then turned to me. "I am not a practitioner myself. I like Michael just as he was made. Our friend Samuel Collins occupies the other extreme. In fact I believe he will be continuing young Sebastian's transformation this weekend. Everyone will be invited to witness it."

I wondered what lay in store for that boy. I would have felt sorry for him, but he was so undeniably thriving and happy when we met him. Alex had pain, and Sebastian had his rings. It seemed each boy had what he most desired. I have to confess I was looking very much forward to seeing him again.

With Alex forbidden to speak, lunch was a quiet affair. Michael was under no such orders, but he is a young man of few words to begin with, really the opposite of Alex. You often had to order him to say something, just to make sure he was still in the room. It is interesting how some slaves tend to fade into the background, as Michael does, while others stand out as though a thousand spotlights were shining on them. Alex certainly fit the latter category, my little showman.

The afternoon was spent drilling Alex on his positions, until he could move from one to the other rapidly and gracefully. Robert also showed me a proper sitting posture, for those rare instances when Alex might be allowed to use a chair. Under Robert's guidance, I also, for the first time, attached a short chain between the boy's thigh cuffs, severely limiting his ability to walk. We chained his ankle cuffs together as well and made him practice walking from the kitchen to the study like that for nearly two hours. For the first hour, his arms were free, for the second, I bound them tightly behind his back using one of our host's leather bondage sleeves. I'd heard about these things, but never seen a real one. Once it was laced up, the boy's arms encased within it were completely immobilized. Nasty and harsh.

Alex loved it.

It did affect his balance at first, but he quickly got used to it. His gait remained adorably awkward, but that was the point.

"You're doing great, Alex," I said.

"Thanks!" he replied without thinking. His eyes grew wide before the word had even finished coming out of his mouth.

"Did you hear something, Robert?" I asked wickedly.

"Yes indeed I did." He already had the gag in his hand. "Come here, Alex. This instant."

Alex looked over at me, and my expression told him he was to follow Robert's orders. My thirteen-year-old moved as fast as he could with his ankles and thighs chained together. The look of contrition upon his sweet face was endearing.

"Don't disobey by apologizing," Robert said. "Just open your mouth and accept your punishment."

Alex did as he was told, and the gag was strapped around his head again. I did notice that Robert had made it somewhat less tight than the times before.

"That's a good boy. Now, I believe your little infraction calls for another hour of training. Steven?"

"By all means. Start marching, Alexander."

My boy nodded his head slowly and returned to his task. Robert leaned over to me. "I honestly believe you should keep Alex gagged as a matter of course from now on. I have an inflatable version of the one he's wearing. It would cause him somewhat less discomfort."

I confess I loved the sound of my boy's voice. Alex needed to learn his place, but I did not like the idea of a silent house. I told Robert I would consider his suggestion, my polite way of telling him no, but I was very interested in the gag he had mentioned. My boy's comfort and well being was important to me after all.

When Alex had finished his last hour of practice, we escorted him and Michael to the dungeon. There we strapped them down facing one another on the large punishment bench. Alex remained gagged of course, and Michael soon found a bit in his mouth, well marked by his own teeth, his favorite I would later learn.

"Paddles, Master?" Robert asked with a gleam in his eye that told me he was in a mood for inflicting pain, hard and slow and long into the night.

"Oh, I definitely think paddles."

Our two boys moaned in fear and delight and squirmed in their bonds as we chose our respective instruments of discipline and approached them. At first we alternated, so that the two lovebirds could enjoy the grimaced expressions on each other's face. Alex, bless his heart, tried desperately to remain silent as I reddened his thirteen-year- old ass with the thick heavy paddle. The effort was having an unpleasant affect on him. He cringed visibly each time he sensed it coming, something he normally did not do.

"I know it's hard, sweetie," I said to him while Michael was getting his. "You may cry into your gag, if you need to."

He needed to. And he did. It was a beautiful sound.

Once we'd gotten them nice and red, we began to deliver our blows in unison, striking our boys with simultaneous fury. And fury was the word. It was a slow, measured beating, but certainly the hardest I'd yet given my boy. Looking over at Michael and Robert, I sensed they were both just warming up. Michael was groaning softly, but his distress came mostly from the tears he was forced to watch falling from Alexander's young eyes.

They were close enough that with some effort they could press their foreheads together. When they did, Robert and I actually had to stop for a moment. Such a beautiful gesture of love and support they were sharing. We could actually feel it there in the room with us, and we both touched our hands gently to their cheeks. Then we resumed our positions and laid into the boys with renewed vigor, their innocent passion for one another stirring the darkest passions in us. Alex was howling in his gag and writhing in his bonds. Michael's reaction to discipline, as in all things, was considerably more subdued. To be honest, I don't believe Michael needs pain the way Alex does, it is just something the young man endures because he is a slave, and because he is utterly devoted to his master.

After a while Alex too began to quiet down, modeling Michael's behavior and maturity. Having the young man to look up to and admire was a great benefit for Alex. During the wild and amazing teen years that would follow, he would often say, 'If Mike can take, I can take it.' And he would. In a strange way, Michael was training him every bit as much as I was.

"Good boy, Alex," I said as I continued to turn his behind a nice shade of purple.

"I want these rear ends glowing tomorrow, Steven," Robert said to me as he took up the cane and administered a slow methodical series of stinging blows. Alex could hear it swishing ominously through the air, he could feel Michael jerk against his bonds in anticipation, then the crack on soft bare skin, and of course the young man's agonized groans filling his ears.

Mike was sobbing quietly when it was over. Then Robert placed the cane in my own hands. "Give Alex three. One for being defiant this morning, one for talking out of turn, and one to remind him never to do either again."

I took a long hard look at the slender rod. It seemed so innocuous, yet I knew it could inflict unspeakable damage in the wrong hands. I had doubt. For the first time in weeks I had doubt about doing something to my boy. From the bench, Alex was staring at the cane with unmasked terror. His abusers had used coat hangers, rulers, and electric cords, so he knew the deep pain that could come from harmless- looking things.

Alex' eyes pleaded with me.

"Not yet, Robert," I said. "He's not ready for this."

"Alex will never be ready for this," my old friend replied. "Was he ready for it when he was five? Or six? Or seven?"

I looked away from them both.

"That's not fair, Robert, and it's not the same."

"Of course it's not fair!" Robert said with uncharacteristic emotion. "And of course it's not the same. That's why it must be done, and done now. It will just keep eating him up, Steven, a little bit more each day, each month. He's come so far. Don't abandon him now. Be strong for both of you, and do what must be done."

With the cane still in my hand, I knelt down and looked my sweet Alex in the eye. The boy was bravely trying not to cry, but I knew he was scared.

"Just three, Lexi," I said, using his family nickname I hadn't called him since he was eight. "That's all." He closed his eyes. I walked behind him. "How?" I asked Robert.

"Place the cane against his behind."

I did.

"Draw it back slowly."

I did.

"Return it, slowly."

I did.

"Do that five more times until you get the feel of it."

After five I was ready.

"Draw it back again, and let it go. Don't put too much force into it. The cane works all by itself."

I drew the slender cane back and brought it down. It sang as it cut through the air. If he had not been strapped down, Alex would have been airborne. His entire body jerked in a violent spasm and he shrieked into his gag.

"Not so hard, Steven," Robert corrected me gently over the boy's frantic cries.

I gave him his second one, not so severe as my first. Still he tensed and shouted and looked back at me with weeping eyes. The third and final blow cut across his behind evenly. His muffled scream was so high-pitched that it finally became inaudible. Tears streaked the boy's face when I came around to him, but there was also a look of deep pride in his eyes, as one who has endured great trial and come through it with newfound strength.

"We should let him rest for a while," Robert said as he stroked the boy's short matted hair. He released Michael from his restraints and removed the bit from his mouth. The young man was visibly shaken at bearing witness to Alexander's torment. He and Robert exchanged a brief whisper. "May Michael give Alex a kiss?"

"I would never deny them," I said.

Mike knelt beside the boy and kissed him tenderly on the forehead, and then the cheek. Alex moaned softly into his gag. We didn't rush them. Finally Michael stood up, and together we made our way to the door. Robert was about to turn off the lights, but I stopped him.

"No. Please. I can't bear to think of him alone in the dark right now. He needs the light."

Robert smiled and nodded. It would not have been his choice, but I was pleased and proud that he respected mine.

I brought Alex upstairs for dinner. He was sore and tender, but the panic that had gripped him earlier had passed. There was that light in his eyes, tempered a bit by the pain, but clear and vibrant. He had worked something out in his head, and let go of yet another piece of his childhood trauma.

The boy was delighted to find pizza waiting for him in the kitchen. With our host's Epicurean tastes, I was a bit surprised when Robert himself picked up the phone and ordered it.

"Sometimes the old favorites are still the best," he said whimsically. "And besides, Alex deserves a little reward. We've worked him hard this weekend, and there's much more to come."

Alex blushed shyly.

I allowed Michael the honor of removing the boy's gag, but I did not permit them to embrace. Alex' rear end was too purple and much too sore for him to sit on the floor, so he was given permission to remain standing while he ate, on the condition that he stay at attention the entire time. His knees locked, his back arched, his shoulders square, his face forward. The only part of him he was allowed to move was his left arm with which he fed himself.

With a ravenous thirteen-year-old in our company, the food disappeared at an alarming rate.

"He must be eating you out of house and home," Robert laughed good-naturedly. I was forced to agree with his observation. We had pretty much left an empty refrigerator behind us. Alex for his part just cracked a little smile and grabbed another slice of pizza.

I gave him a sharp smack to this thigh. "You're slouching. Stand up straight."

Alex corrected himself instantly.

"Don't you think it's time you shaved that boy, Steven?" Robert asked, looking Alex up and down and resting his gray eyes between the thirteen-year-old's legs. "He's got a nice little bush now. About a month's worth, right, boy?"

Alex nodded somberly, knowing very well what would be happening to him after dinner. His pubic hair had thickened quite a bit from those first few wispy strands of early summer. It was still sparse and soft, light brown in color, but undeniably noticeable. And it most definitely had to go.

Fifteen minutes later we had Alex back in the dungeon. He stood shaking and naked, freed of his belt, his cuffs and his collar, holding his arms above his head as ordered. His cock was soft and dangling heavily between his legs. With our eyes and our hands, Robert and I inspected his young body from head to toe, looking for any signs that my boy was starting to grow hair. His legs, his ass, his pale white armpits, his upper lip, and everywhere and everyplace in between. Aside from a few blond hairs circling his ankles, and of course the downy growth above his cock, Alex was still smooth and hairless.

"When he gets his first hairs on his ass, I will

recommend electrolysis," Robert proclaimed. "Dr. Collins can put you in touch with a gentlemen who is quite skilled at making it quite painful. Michael was done when he was sixteen, weren't you dear?"

"Yes, master." The young man cringed at the memory.

"And he's barely sprouted a single hair since. And I just pluck those out."

The look on Alex' face told me he was not too happy about the prospect of losing what little hair he'd just started to grow. Yet he obeyed without hesitation when he was ordered to sit in one of Robert's restraint chairs, visibly relieved when he learned it would not be the one with the seven-inch [18 cm] dildo screwed to the seat.

Michael tightened all the straps for us, leaving the boy immobilized. Alex could wiggle his fingers and his toes, but that was all. There was even a leather strap for his forehead, which helped keep him in the proper posture. He could follow us with his soft hazel eyes, but he could not turn his head nor look down to see what was being done to him. He could hear the buzzing of the shaver, and feel it against his abdomen.

It only took a single pass and his precious pubic hair was gone. Alex had had it for exactly one month, and would never have it again.

Chapter 24
The Life of the Party

The psychology of a slave is an amazing and complicated thing. It was such a simple act, shaving off those few soft hairs above Alexander's penis, yet its impact was profound. The boy was subdued and serious for the rest of the night, doing whatever he was told with a quick nod of his head, and a focused yet faraway expression in his eyes. Alex was still not permitted to speak, and so he did everything soundlessly.

Over the past few weeks I had become aware of a basic truth about my boy. The tougher I made things for him, the crueler and harder my treatment of him, the stronger he embraced it and the deeper was his submission. Things were escalating between us. We could both feel it.

In bed that night, I allowed Alex ten minutes to talk about the day and how the things we'd done and said to him had made him feel. A full day of pent up emotions and frustrations and madness just spilled forth.

"I messed up a lot today, didn't I?" he asked as he sat naked between my legs, my arms wrapped tenderly around his chest.

"Yes, you did," I replied. "But you were punished for it each time. I will never hold things over you, Alex. You mess up, you get punished, we move on. Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Besides these were tough lessons today."

"Sure were. You know, I can't stop thinking about tomorrow… that's going to be hard, isn't it?"

"For you, yes. I plan on having a great time."

He shivered and moved closer. I pushed him away gently and onto his back. Freed of his belt, his cock, once again hairless, was sticking straight up, but he would not be cumming tonight.

"Spread your legs, Alex," I commanded.

With a soft voice he responded. "Yes, master."

"Roll over."

He did with a quiet, "Yes, sir."

"That's my boy."

I gave him a gentle spanking, just to re-light the fire of the paddle and cane from earlier. Then I entered him roughly, leaving him moaning and gasping into his pillow.

Michael woke us gently the next morning. He was already dressed in his travel outfit, jeans and a short-sleeved pullover, white runners on his feet. Collar and cuffs were in plain view, and beneath his clothes I knew he was bound and locked in chastity. He smiled at Alex and his bright blue eyes betrayed his excitement about the days ahead.

Normally energetic in the mornings, Alex seemed sluggish and wary. We showered together. He met my eyes with a shy and gentle expression, then bowed his head again and pressed himself against me. I rubbed my hands over his trembling shoulders and down the center of his back. The boy's penis was hard and he was gasping softly. I knew he desperately wanted me touch him. I kissed him on the forehead and turned off the water.

"Don't dry yourself. Stand there until your erection is gone, then come into the bedroom."

I left Alex there in the tub, hard and horny and shivering. He appeared a few minutes later, his soft five inches [12½ cm] swinging between his beautiful slender thighs as he walked toward me.

After letting him drip dry for a few minutes, I stood the boy in front of me and put him in his gear. Michael had delivered a new butt-plug courtesy his master, a much larger and thicker one than I'd used on Alex before. It took some grunting and groaning to work it up inside him. There was no way it could ever come out on its own. His leather jock went on next and then, of course, the pod. Alex seemed to be miles away already.

"Nervous?" I asked as I tightened his harness around his chest.

"Yes, sir."

"I am too. Hand me your cuffs."

Alex placed the ankle cuffs in my hands and I slowly and lovingly buckled them in place, running my hands up and down the boy's firm hairless legs, feeling the well packed muscles in his calves. We hadn't used the padlocks in a while, but for today it seemed appropriate, and I clicked them in place. We both liked the idea that the cuffs could not come off. His wrists received the same treatment. The boy presented his collar to me next, then knelt to receive it around his neck.

With one last click of a padlock it was done.

"Shirt and shorts," I ordered. "Then get your shoes on. No socks."

Alex dressed quickly, his hands shaking in nervous excitement.

"Take your time, sweetie," I said gently. "They won't leave without us."

My boy smiled and relaxed a little. When he was finished, he presented himself to me. I straightened his shirt and raised his shorts a little higher on his hips, revealing more of his sexy thirteen-year-old legs. His hair was just getting long enough to need brushing again, and so he did that with me looking on. I tossed him the gel and he quickly got it the way he liked.

"Do I look alright?" he asked, examining himself in the full-length mirror.

"Adorable. And very grown up."

Alex beamed. What boy doesn't like to heart that particular compliment? "Really?"

"Really."

"Can I have a hug, before we go?"

"You can always have a hug, Alex. Come here."

I drew him into my arms and we embraced. In that moment it struck me just how small and slender and fragile he was. Yes, he was strong and athletic, but he was still a boy. It would be so easy to really and truly hurt him, and there would be nothing he could do about it. Alex didn't have the strength to resist.

He must have sensed the dark cloud that suddenly came between us. He pulled back for a moment and stared at me.

"What's wrong?" he asked in a whisper.

"Nothing, Alex." I took his hands into my own. "Go get your gag, then we'll see about breakfast."

Robert had a large feast prepared in the kitchen, but not for all of us. For himself and for me it was fruit and bread, juice and coffee. For Michael and Alex it was pancakes and eggs and bacon, milk and juice.

"This will be the last real meal they eat for a while," our host explained as we allowed the boys to sit down with us at the table. "And as for you and I, we'll be quite stuffed before things wind down, so go light this morning."

Anxious and nervous, Alex at first picked at his food, but Michael tapped him on the arm and gave him a warm smile.

"Better eat all you can," he said in his soft but confident voice. "We'll need it."

With the older boy's example and encouragement, Alex dug in with renewed enthusiasm, drowning his large stack of cakes with strawberry syrup and swallowing his juice in large gulps. He was the only one without a coffee cup. Robert took one from the counter and set it in front of him.

"Want to drink like the grown-ups this morning, son?" he asked.

Alex looked at me with a smile. He'd had a few sips of coffee before, and I often put a little in his milk for him, but this was the real thing, strong and black and filling the kitchen with its nutty aroma. With my tacit approval he flipped the cup upright and Robert filled it to the rim. We all laughed when he wrinkled his nose at the first taste and forced it down his throat.

"When I think of all the other things he's had in his mouth lately…"

My boy glared at me playfully and joined us in our laughter. It felt good. And he did finish the entire cup, respectfully declining seconds.

Robert's garage was a source of wonder for Alex. Home to six of the shiniest most beautiful vehicles he'd ever laid his young eyes upon. There was a late model Jaguar, a vintage Mercedes, and several more modest but equally stylish cars all neatly parked in their bays. Our transport for this adventure however awaited us at the far end, an immaculately maintained black cargo van, likely a Dodge at some point, though it had been customized to such a degree that it had little in common with anything you'd find on the showroom floor.

"Let's get the boy's inside," Robert said as he unlocked the back doors.

Alex and I looked in together. Definitely not factory standard!

Thick rubber matting covered the floor and walls, and there were rings and hooks and chains dangling everywhere. There was a small iron cage and a restraining chair similar to those that lived in Robert's dungeon. Both pieces were secured to the floor with heavy braces and bolts.

Robert and I instantly came to an unspoken agreement, and he opened the cage door while I helped Alex climb up into the van. With my boy on his hands and knees, I worked his shorts off his slender frame, then his shirt. Only his shoes and leather remained.

"Get in there, Alex," I said softly, after I'd buckled the ball-gag in place.

Alex blinked once and crawled into the cage. He went in headfirst and quickly discovered there was no room inside for him to turn around, or sit or stretch. He would be on his hands and knees for the entire trip. I locked his wrist and ankle cuffs to the iron bars and Robert slowly closed the door. Alex actually jumped a little when he heard the heavy latch and the ratcheting click of the big lock.

Next Michael was placed in the chair and strapped down from toe to forehead. His fingers were about the only thing he could move. He was not gagged, and Robert turned the chair so he was looking directly at my boy in the cage.

"Keep an eye on Alex," Robert instructed him. "If it looks like he's in trouble, tell us right away. You may talk to him, but keep your voice down."

"Yes, sir."

Robert tightened the young man's straps a little more, causing Michael to moan softly under his breath. Together we then knelt down in front of Alex. The caged boy wiggled his shoulders a bit, then his hips, pressing them against the bars. I could tell by the look on his young face that Alex was zoning out again, as he often seemed to do. Robert snapped his fingers and clapped his hands. Alex focused his hazel eyes on us instantly.

"You're going to have a rough ride, kid," Robert said without exaggeration. "I'll take it slow, but you're going to have a few bruises by the time we get there. Keep your arms locked or else you'll knock your head against the bars. Don't want you blacking out now, do we?"

Alex shook his head and blinked his eyes twice. I worked my right hand between the bars and gently caressed his cheek. I gave him a little slap. "Mike will be watching you, don't worry. Just do what Robert says."

The boy straightened his shoulders and locked his elbows, then put his head down.

Robert and I stepped out and closed the rear doors. Moments later we were off. There was a dark curtain that separated the cabin from the cargo area. The silence from behind the curtain was strange. I knew my wonderful boy was back there, and I had to fight the urge to draw back the dark blue fabric and check on him.

"Let him be for a while," Robert said as we left the driveway. "Mike will tell us if anything goes wrong."

I turned back in my chair and watched the miles go by. For obvious reasons, Robert avoided the interstates and other heavily trafficked roads, instead winding us up and down and around the countryside lanes, always taking us generally north. Occasionally he would hit an unavoidable bump or pothole, which was immediately followed by a loud yelp or moan of protest from young Alex as he was smashed against the bars of the cage.

"You're not hitting those on purpose, are you?" I asked wickedly.

"Now why would I ever do a thing like that?" he replied with a knowing smirk upon his bearded lips.

We'd been on the road for about ninety minutes, when Robert pulled off onto a wooded drive. I'd thought his own private estate was a realm of opulence, but the elaborate mansion that loomed before us was simply breathtaking.

"I'm in the wrong business, Rob," I said with a laugh.

"No need to feel that way, Steven. You and Alex are my guests, and you'll both fit in nicely, I'm sure. Remember, if you're comfortable, Alex will be comfortable."

I took that to heart as I surveyed the large number of vehicles already parked along the edges of the circular driveway. There were custom models like Robert's, expensive luxury cars of all makes, sport vehicles, vans and pick-ups, some extraordinary, some deceptively plain. Clearly the party had already begun.

"I'm never the first to arrive, nor the last to leave," Robert explained. "I confess I do have some standing among these people, and a timely entrance is important. Good turnout today."

I could hear the soft distant sounds of a string quartet playing as we opened the rear doors of the van. Alex was leaning to one side of the cage and breathing heavily. The last hundred yards down the driveway had been particularly rough on him. Robert handed me the key and I worked the heavy lock open. The door swung on its hinges with a soft well-oiled creak.

"Don't move, boy," I said. I released his ankle and wrist cuffs, then reached into the cage and put my hands firmly around his hips. Slowly I backed Alex out of the cage. He did have the beginnings of a few bruises on his shoulders, but nothing serious. They'd just give him a little extra character. Having worn the ball-gag for so long, a trail of drool and spittle ran from his mouth and down onto the floor of the van. Alex looked at me with embarrassed eyes, but I knew he couldn't help it. I patted him on the head and Robert handed me a cloth before proceeding to release Michael. I wiped my boy down gently, and dried the outside of the gag.

"Stretch," I ordered as the boy stood on two feet for the first time in nearly two hours. Alex dutifully twisted and turned his narrow hips, and raised his arms above his head. He did a few toe touches, which made him look quite adorable with his cute little ass in the air. I gave that perfect target a few playful smacks.

"Save a bit for later, Steven," Robert laughed as he helped Michael out of the van. The older slave went through a similar but far more efficient and practiced round of stretches, his lean eighteen-year-old body already glistening with sweat. When the young man had finished, he bent over to remove his shoes.

I gave Alex a firm tug on his harness. "Help Michael get those off."

Robert nodded his approval, and young Alex quickly kneeled before his senior slave and untied the well-worn tennis shoes, removing them with great care, taking a moment to caress Michael's bare feet. The boy was reluctant to finish his task, but he did, then got up and placed the shoes neatly in the van.

With a silent command from his master, Michael reciprocated. He was exceedingly gentle, and looked up at Alex with a warm smile the entire time as he removed the boy's runners. Alex soon had that faraway look in his eyes again and a soft sigh escaped his throat. I curled a finger around the nearest ring in his collar and pulled him sharply back to reality. The boy blushed and gave me a contrite and embarrassed look.

"Stay focused, Alex," I warned him. "And stay close." He nodded his head. I kissed him on the cheek and we were ready. No lead for his collar. We'd discussed that before falling asleep in each other's arms the previous night. It was important to him that he prove he didn't need one. It was also a bit of a risk, but Alex is no fool, and he knows how to keep his eyes and ears open.

We followed Robert and Michael to the front door. Alex was at my right side, a half-step behind. I could feel his hand brushing against mine, and I could hear his anxious breathing.

Robert rang the bell, and the large door was quickly opened by a handsome teenaged boy with dark hair and deep brown eyes. The lad appeared to be a few years younger than Michael was, perhaps sixteen. Tall and slender, he wore a formal bow tie around his neck and a black coat with tails. And nothing else. His soft cock, thick and impressive, dangled between firm sinewy adolescent legs. His bare feet were large and gave him an adorably awkward look. The youth was well tanned, and he had a single golden ring in each ear. It was obvious from his expression that he recognized Robert immediately.

"Good afternoon, Thomas. You're looking well. A few inches taller, and longer I see."

The attractive teenager blushed. "Thank you, sir."

"Where is your master?" Robert asked, looking the boy up and down with his piercing gray eyes.

"In the garden, sir. He has been expecting you."

Thomas stepped to one side and gestured us into the house. His brown eyes were locked on Alex as the thirteen- year-old followed close behind me. It was the first of many stares young Alex would be receiving as the afternoon wore on.

The garden was reached through a door at the opposite end of the large well-appointed Georgian hall. We stepped out into a world of manicured terraces, fine sculpture, flowing fountains and soft music. Alex squeezed my hand gently, and together we shook our heads in amazement. One might have thought we'd stepped back into a more genteel past, but the presence of scores of young men and boys in leather, chains, or nothing at all quickly brought us back to our curious new reality.

Robert had told me weeks earlier that Alex, while the newest, would not be the youngest boy here, and he was correct. While youngsters were and are certainly rare in our little circle, a leisurely glance revealed numerous boys smaller and younger than my Alex, and at least one who appeared to be no more than eight or nine years old. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a quick flash of dark red, and there of course was Sebastian, standing at firm attention beside his master.

Samuel Collins was engaged in some polite debate with another gentleman in a rather expensive suit. The doctor himself was dressed casually, preferring to allow his young nephew the honor of attracting all the attention. And that he did, remarkably well. Sebastian was covered in a tight reddish-hued leather bodysuit that nearly matched the color of his hair. His hands were encased in leather mittens and his slender arms bound tightly to his sides by straps built into the suit. The boy's feet were bare, as they always seemed to be. He was not gagged, but it was clear from his rigid posture that he was under strict orders not to speak or respond in any way to anything said or done to him.

That was of course until he saw Alex. Then his intelligent young eyes lit up and he risked a little smile in our direction. Samuel caught him instantly, and after offering us a friendly gesture, he promptly gave the boy a hard smack on his little round rump to help him regain his focus.

"Come on, Alex," I said as I gave my boy a little swat of his own.

We hurried along to catch up to Robert, and soon found ourselves under a large pavilion where masters and slaves were mingling informally, and where food, and drink and music were found in abundance. Alex continued to be the object of long stares as we followed Robert through the lively crowd. Some stares were wicked and lustful, some hopelessly smitten by the thirteen-year-old's youthful yet masculine beauty, and most were simply appreciative of a young boy bravely entering a grown-up world for the first time and doing his very best to prove he belonged. I knew Alex could feel their admiration, and I could sense him standing a little taller as he walked close behind me.

A well-dressed middle-aged gentleman rose from a comfortable couch to greet us and took Robert's hand first. It was immediately clear that their association had been a long and fruitful one.

"So good to see you, Robert," he said in a thick but cultured voice. "Sorry you had to miss my last little soiree. It just wasn't the same without you, or Michael."

The young slave gave one of his trademark bows. Robert then introduced me to our host, using only his first name, as was the custom. Wim. Unusual and distinctive, and fitting for one who lived in such conspicuous luxury.

"No introduction necessary," he said and presented his hand to me. "Thomas and I are both fans of your writing."

I nodded in sincere gratitude, unaware I was known in such wealthy and influential circles.

"Robert tells me we should be expecting a novel from you shortly."

"If I can ever manage to finish it," I said, glancing at my little brother. "I've been rather distracted lately."

Wim's eyes fell on Alexander, and a warm smile crossed his face. He looked the bound, gagged, and belted boy up and down. Alex blushed, but stood straight and motionless by my side. "No wonder you can't concentrate. This must be Alex."

"He keeps my life interesting, that's certain," I replied, caressing the boy gently between his shoulders, and pushing him forward slightly so Wim could get a better look. "Stand," I said firmly.

Young Alex was in position instantly, his slim muscular legs spread wide, his hands clasped behind his head, his hazel eyes forward meeting those of our host.

"Very nice," Wim said after a soft whistle of admiration. He extended his hands, the tips of his fingers hovering just inches from the boy's smooth flesh. "May I?"

I could hear Alex take a sharp breath. "By all means," I replied.

Alex shuddered as the stranger's hands lightly and gently worked over his slender frame, dancing playfully over his bare skin. Wim pulled Alex yet closer and ran his fingers up and down the thirteen-year-old's back, pausing often to squeeze the boy's firm behind. Alex still had his hands behind his head. Wim found the end of the boy's butt- plug, held tightly in place by the thin leather strap. He gave it a quick tug.

"Got a nice little ass on you, boy," I heard him say. "I'll bet you just love getting it fucked."

Alex whimpered into his gag and his body stiffened as Wim moved his exploring hands over the boy's thighs and up between his legs, jiggling the metal pod that encased his genitals.

"Does he wear this often?" our wealthy host asked.

"Most of the time," I replied. Alex nodded his head and sighed quietly.

"And how old is he?"

"He turned thirteen less than a month ago."

Wim continued his examination. "Spread your legs a little farther, boy," he said.

Remembering the rules, Alex craned his head back and looked at me. His eyes were soft and pleading. In answer I reached out and smacked him twice on the ass. "Do as you are told, Lexi."

The boy spread his feet as far as he could without losing his balance. Wim again ran his hands over the kid's thighs, now taut and straining, before returning his attentions to the chastity belt and the seed pod. He let it rest in his palm.

"Hmm. There's already some weight inside," he said appreciatively, then looked over Alex' shoulder at me. "He must be hung like a horse."

"Well, at least a pony," I replied with a smile. Alex let out a soft giggle. I figured he needed something to lighten the mood, even if just for a moment.

Wim patted him on the thigh and sent him back to me. Alex immediately resumed his place at my side, and I felt the back of his hand softly touching mine. Once. Twice. Three times. Quietly I took it and he squeezed tightly. Alex let out a long-held breath. I turned to look at him and saw my boy's eyes were fixed on the ground, his chin nearly down upon his chest. My Alex was scared. I reached over and gently lifted his chin.

"Keep your head up," I said softly, but sternly. Then I took his hand again.

"You have a fine boy, Steven," our host continued. "I do hope we'll be seeing more of him later today. Make yourself at home. We have organized a little game of soccer for the youngsters. We'll be starting this afternoon on the south lawn. Alex is welcome to play. With legs like those… " Wim trailed off into a tender smile. "And of course we often choose a little one for our evening hunt. Perhaps Alex would like to be the quarry today."

Beside me, Alex jumped and shivered.

"Ah, he's already trembling," Wim observed good- naturedly. "He'll make fine prey."

The idea of a naked Alex being chased through the woods was rather appealing, and I promised Wim I'd consider it. We paid our respects then followed Robert and Michael a little further along through the terraced gardens, gaining introductions to many of his most valued associates, clients, and friends. There were, to my amazement, a few familiar faces among those gathered, people I'd seen on the news, people in power.

At first, I confess, Alex and I felt like poor cousins. And yet, everyone seemed to go out of their way to mingle in our direction and make us feel welcome. Some masters offered their hand to Alex, while others patted him warmly on the behind. I'd removed his gag, but he was still not permitted to speak. Several people tried their best to catch him off guard, but not once did my clever boy ever open his mouth. I was so proud of him. I actually hugged him, right there in front of everyone.

My eyes caught a few more boys I hadn't noticed before. None were so elaborately clad as Sebastian was in his neck- to-ankle leather bodysuit, and one teenaged lad was crawling naked on his hands and knees behind his master, leashed to the man's wrist. Finally I turned to Robert with the obvious question.

"How many boys are there? Real ones, I mean."

Robert's eyes danced and he flashed a wicked grin. "Enjoying the sights, are you? Well, I will tell you. At the moment there are eight we know of, including young Alex, that the law would consider minors, but several of them are among the most experienced slaves here. And many of the young men you see first came to gatherings like this as children. You are not the only one here with an attraction to boys, but you will learn that our chosen lifestyle often transcends age."

I nodded that I understood, and squeezed Alexander's hand a little more tightly as we walked.

"We do take great care with the young ones," Robert continued. His expression quickly darkened, and spoke to me softly so Alex wouldn't hear his equally dark words. "The ones we know about at least. People always assume when a boy disappears and never returns that he's been murdered. I suspect, and have seen some evidence that suggests otherwise. I have my theories, but proving them would endanger far too many lives."

I shivered at the mere thought of what Robert was implying. He quickly changed the subject.

"Enough of this. There is much for you to see, and much for Alex to learn. Michael and I have our own engagements to attend to. I trust, young man," he said, addressing Alex directly, "that you will keep yourself and your master out of trouble?"

Alex smiled and nodded his head, and with that Rob and Mike walked off leaving us alone in a crowd of strangers. His last words to me were delivered with a wink and a wicked smile. "You'll find some activities in the carriage house to keep the boy occupied."

And indeed we did, once we were pointed in the right direction. The carriage house, an old brick structure that I'm sure normally housed our host's exceptional collection of vehicles, had a different kind of machinery in it today. Crosses and frames and stocks and even a frightful medieval rack filled the many bays. Ten slaves were strapped and bound to them in every imaginable position, with their masters all looking on as they were methodically tortured by yet others. Whimpers and cries filled the air. It was a strangely musical and arousing sound. Another handful of slaves lined the back wall, chained to one another and to large rings in the floor. Unoccupied masters mingled and talked freely, awaiting the next round of activities.

Alex and I hovered near the door, captivated by what we were witnessing, and apparently unnoticed, for the moment. A thirteen-year-old slave does draw attention to himself though, without even trying. Before long a kind-faced and elderly master approached us and held out his hand to me. The grip was surprisingly firm and virile.

"Master Steven… and Alex, correct?" he asked softly. His voice betrayed years and years of smoking.

I nodded with rather dubious eyes.

"No need for suspicion. It is to our advantage to stay informed of new members, and particularly when a boy joins our little family. How are you today, Alex?"

I hadn't even learned this man's name yet, but somehow I trusted him, and, given his age, it also seemed only appropriate that Alex answer him directly, and politely. I gave my boy a gentle nudge and he promptly offered one of his flourishing bows. It had the same effect it always did on Robert, mainly a delighted smile and a soft chuckle from its recipient.

"I'm fine, sir," Alex then said, standing up again. "Thank you for asking."

"You are surprised that I would? A slave's feelings are important too, aren't they?"

"I guess so," my sweet boy replied quietly.

"You guess? A slave must not guess, boy."

"I mean, yes, sir," Alex stammered, quickly and deftly correcting himself. "They are important."

"I'm pleased you think so." The old gentleman, for that's what he was, smiled warmly at us. "I am Bartholomew… but you, young man," he pointed a playful finger at Alex, "will only ever call me sir. Clear?"

Alex stood up straight as an arrow. "Yes, sir!" he said strongly, then returned his elder's smile.

"He's adorable," Bartholomew said, patting the five-foot-tall [1.50 m] boy on the top of his head. He turned his soft experienced eyes to me. "I've been training slaves since before either of you were born, Steven, but this boy is special. I know them when I see them."

I couldn't find any argument with that.

"Care to put the little colt through his paces?" he asked.

Alex instinctively moved closer to me. Gazing down at him, there was that look of fear and desire in his eyes. I did not hesitate. "Absolutely."

"Do you have a preference?" Bartholomew asked as we scanned the room together, observing older and more experienced slaves enduring unbelievable tortures.

Finally I left it up to Alex to make the decision. Together we walked up and down the line of increasingly harsh devices. The rack in particular held the boy's fascination. A fit and muscular young man in his early twenties was it's current occupant. He was moaning softly into a heavy leather gag, and rolling his head from side to side. His back was arched, his lean hairless torso heaving with gaping breaths. The anguished look in his eyes forced Alex closer to me. The stretch in the young man's joints was a sight to behold. One more turn I'm sure and tendons would begin to snap.

Alex gave me that 'no way' look all thirteen-year-old's have mastered. Something in his expression told me that one day soon he'd do it, even ask for it, but not today. We moved on, my hands now gently resting on his shoulders. At our next stop, an older teen, perhaps Michael's age, was hanging with from his wrists and ankles. They were bound together behind him. Enormous leaden weights hung from his balls, and yet more from his nipples, pulling his most sensitive parts downward with ruthless and relentless force. The youth's head hung down in exhaustion so we could not see his face, but we could both hear his quiet sobs. Up and down this row of suffering and torment, things seemed to have come to a stop for a moment, but everything was set up so that the slaves remained on display the entire time.

"Guess everyone's gonna be watching me, huh?" Alex asked softly as we stood before a wooden bondage frame, it's current occupant suspended by his ankles. It was clear from his quiet moans and ample tears that the young man was being allowed to rest before he was taken down and replaced by another.

"That's the idea, Lexi."

The boy fidgeted nervously, but his eyes were carefully digesting everything around him. I knew this was a difficult moment for him. Up until now, everything we'd done had been in the familiar confines of home, or in the safe environment provided by Robert's dungeon. Alex had always been among those who loved him. Warmth and compassion surrounded him, even as he suffered. This was very different. Cold and detached, the calculated infliction of pain for pain's sake, as total strangers looked on.

I did not push him, but I did not let him quit and walk away. If this was the life he wanted, he would need to learn the darker truths about it. Finally he stood up as tall as he could and stepped a bit closer the frame nearest to us, the one with the young man still hanging by his ankles.

"This one," Alex said with boyish conviction. "Just like this. Upside-down and everything. Whip me good!"

Bartholomew smiled widely and laid a friendly hand on my boy's shoulder. "So eager. I like that. We'll see how you feel about things when I'm through with you." His voice was suddenly chilling, and for a moment I caught a glimpse of a fierce and stern-faced master. Alex eyed me with giddy terror. Robert had told me we would meet true sadists here, masters of their craft who would teach Alex about the depths of pain. Something in that kindly old man's expression told me my young charge was in for a very rough time.

"Would you remove his belt, please?" Bartholomew asked, as Alex trembled between us.

Pulling the keys from my pocket, I opened the padlocks and slowly removed the metal pod and leather jock, leaving them close by. His butt-plug remained. Alex sighed deeply as his boyhood was freed from its unforgiving constraints. Driven by fear and anticipation, and the large audience that was quietly assembling to watch him, the boy got hard instantly.

"Ah, the little man's excited. How sweet," Bartholomew said. "I'd like to keep him that way for a while, if you don't mind."

"By all means."

A thick leather strap was quickly and roughly tied around the boy's cock and balls, then looped again and again around the base of his throbbing young erection. Alex actually groaned when the knot was pulled taut. Already his penis was a dark red, and slowly turning purple. Tied off and separated, his balls were also taking on a colorful hue.

"Turn around, Alex," Bartholomew said. I noticed he almost always used the boy's name. A sign of respect he'd later tell me.

Alex did what he was told and presented his backside to the elderly master. His wrist cuffs were quickly locked together and a series of well-used leather straps were cinched tightly around his arms until his elbows were nearly touching. I could see the strain in his shoulders, as well as the painful grimace upon his sweet innocent face.

"Now sit down. Ask your master for help, if you need it."

With his arms bound and useless behind him, he did need help. I got him onto the floor, and he sat silent and shaking with his beautiful legs stretched in front of him. Bartholomew knotted thick heavy ropes through the rings in the boy's ankle cuffs then began to circle them around, distributing the pressure evenly. Alex was staring up with dancing eyes at the pulley system to which the ropes were already attached. His cock was so hard I thought it would burst.

After making a final check of the ropes for safety, Bartholomew knelt down beside Alex and gestured me to do the same. Once again his eyes and voice were those of a kindly grandfather, but I know they would not remain so for long.

"Listen to me very carefully, Alex," he said. "And keep your eyes forward. I want you to answer some questions for me. I will not repeat myself."

"Yes, sir."

"When was the last time you came?"

"Yesterday morning, sir."

"Do you need your master's permission to cum?"

Alex looked at me for an instant. "Yes, sir, I do."

He received a gentle smack for disobeying. "Eyes forward."

"Sorry, sir."

Bartholomew continued. "Have you been whipped before?"

"Yes, sir. Often. By my master."

"But never by someone who doesn't love you."

Alex shuddered. His answer was honest, and painful. "Yes, sir," he said with a trembling voice. "That's happened to me too. When I was very little."

Our newest friend seemed to melt when he heard that, but he gathered his emotions quickly. "This will be very hard for you. Do you have a safeword?"

The boy nodded and took a deep breath. "Yes, sir."

"Tell me."

"Butterfly, sir."

A gentle hand caressed Alex' shoulder. "It suits you. Did you choose it yourself?"

"Yes, sir, I did."

"Use it if you have to. There is no shame. I am going to hurt you very badly, you know that."

"I do, sir."

My sweet brave boy closed his eyes for a moment. "May I ask a question, sir?"

"Of course, Alex."

"Where will my master be, when it's happening?"

"Where would you like him to be?"

"Close, sir."

"I understand," Bartholomew said tenderly. "You need his touch, don't you?"

Alex nodded. It was beyond words.

"Let's get you into position."

All the boy could manage was a soft whimper of agreement. Immediately Bartholomew began to methodically pull on the ropes until there was a noticeable tug against Alex' feet. He stopped and double-checked everything, the ropes, the frame, at last making sure the boy's leather cuffs were snug and would not be digging in to his skin too harshly.

"Hold his shoulders, lift him gently," Bartholomew told me as he continued to take the slack out of the ropes. Alex' legs were already being raised off the floor. My boy sighed when he felt my hands, and he put his head back so he could look at me as I bent over to support him. He gave me a little smile to let me know it was all right.

The pulleys began to squeak as the ropes took more and more of the boy's diminutive weight. Soon I could feel Alex leaving the ground. His cute little rear end was in the air now. I was holding him tightly and lifting him slowly as the pulleys took him up. He wiggled a bit in my gentle grip, but with his arms trussed tightly behind him, he was quite helpless.

And then, after several slow minutes of starts and stops, Bartholomew gave one last hard pull, which straightened the boy's lean body and took his breath away. "Let him go," he said.

I did. And Alex swung free by his ankles.