Istari

Mastering Alex

Chapters 25-32

At first Alex just hung there, his head nearly twelve inches [30 cm] above the floor, but soon he began to writhe about, struggling to get his arms free, little cries issuing from his throat and a priceless look of fear in his young eyes.

"Calm down, Alex," Bartholomew said gently, running his hands over the boy's right leg. I did the same for his left. "You're perfectly secure. Don't be afraid."

Alex closed his eyes tightly. I put my hands on either side of his narrow hips and gave him a little push, watching him swing back and forth like a piece of meat on a hook. Several minutes were allowed to pass in this fashion, and then, at Bartholomew's instruction, I released the boy's arms and lowered them slowly. Alex' fingertips just barely grazed the floor. If you listened carefully enough, you could just hear them scraping. Finally I removed the harness, exposing his chest and back.

"Just one more thing," Bartholomew said, "and we'll be ready."

One more thing' was a wooden yoke, square and hinged and about two feet [60 cm] long on every side with a sizeable hole for the neck.

"An antique from China," Bartholomew explained. "I'm quite proud of it." He opened it by its single ornate hinge and fitted it carefully around Alexander's slender neck. "Don't panic," he told him soothingly, as Alex tensed and struggled once more. "It has some weight to it, but it won't choke you. Just as with your master, you will always be safe with me."

Bartholomew clicked the lock in place on the opposite side, and Alex was now yoked. Aside from its obvious humiliating affect, it would also prevent him from moving his head or looking up to see what was happening to him. Alex could only gaze straight ahead at the unfamiliar faces of masters and slaves he'd never met.

"Try to open your eyes, Alex," I heard Bartholomew say.

I knelt down a bit and saw my boy's beautiful hazel orbs flutter open. Hanging upside-down, his surroundings must have seemed strange and disorienting. Normal things take on a very different impression when one's perspective has changed so dramatically. Alex blinked rapidly at first and moved his eyes quickly from side to side. The boy discovered he could turn his head in the yoke from left to right, he just could not move it up or down.

And then, suddenly, he broke into a wild fit of laughter. At first I thought the boy poor boy was freaking out, and by the reaction of others in the room I wasn't the only one, but then his laughing died down to a boyish giggle and he told me, "Everyone looks so funny! All upside-down like that!"

"Sweetie, you're the one…"

"I know, I know," he said with thirteen-year-old aplomb, "but it helps if I think of it the other way around."

My clever Alex.

Bartholomew selected a long knotted cat and stood before the boy. All Alex could see of him was his booted feet. It was a strange scene. This man was not quite old enough to be our grandfather, but still the contrast between the gray-haired master and the hairless young boy was striking.

"Alex, I'm going to whip you now. As hard and as long as I wish. The only thing that will stop me is your safeword. It is my intention to make you use it. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," came a brave but truly frightened response. The boy's cock was painfully erect, kept in that state by the leather strap tied tightly around it.

Bartholomew turned his eyes to me. "Does the boy have permission to cum?"

"He does," I said without hesitation.

"Then he shall."

It began with a few gentle and loving strokes of Alexander's penis administered by firm, expert hands. The boy shivered and moaned as the pleasure washed over him. Tied off as it was, his cock had swollen to an unnatural thickness, such a large organ for such a lean and slender boy. His young hairless balls had turned a nice shade of purple. Bartholomew gave them each a firm squeeze as he continued to force Alex' foreskin up and down over the dark, glistening crown. The boy's juices were flowing freely, as they always did when the little man got excited. A single line of clear pre-cum was dangling from the tip of his cock, hanging in mid-air, working its way slowly toward the ground. The boy's breathing was coming in raspy pants now, and he was moaning loudly. He was getting close.

Bartholomew stopped just short of letting Alex cum. Then he went to work with the cat. It whistled through the warm humid air and cracked sharply against the boy's stomach. No gentle introductions, instead a hard and cruel and excruciating demonstration of pain that was only just beginning. Alex gasped and moaned, but did not cry out. Bartholomew gave him another one, even harder than the first.

Alex grunted and hissed through clenched teeth.

Another one, across his chest. This one leaving immediate welts. And another immediately after, wrapping the lashes of the cat around his thighs.

The boy writhed sharply in his bonds and moaned again, the pitch of his voice quite a bit higher than before.

"Think you're not going to cry for me, don't you, Alex?" Bartholomew asked in a tone that somehow reflected both softness and extraordinary malice.

Alex just hung there in silence for a moment. Then I heard him whisper, "I won't ever cry for you, sir," under his breath.

A blatant challenge from a thirteen-year-old boy. Bartholomew's eyes lit up with a purposeful fire. I knew Alex had just made a big mistake. 'Never dare a sadist,' would become one of his favorite sayings, a lesson well and painfully learned this day.

The cat sang in the air once more, cracking against the boy's abdomen. Alex screamed for the first time, loud and high and piercing. The scream of a boy. The scream of a child. Soon his screams were coming in quick succession, the echo of the last not quite dying before the next took its place, and always accompanied by the sound of nine slender strands of leather upon tender young skin. The boy's front side, from his thighs to his chest, was covered in dark red lines and angry welts. Alex was heaving and gasping and groaning between shrieks of agony. He flinched instinctively now, every time he heard the whistle and snap of the leather.

For me, simply standing there, observing his suffering, rather than inflicting it myself, was a profoundly difficult, yet profoundly satisfying experience. I knew, every bit was well as Alex himself did, that he could twist me and turn me in practically any direction he liked. Alex was the master where those kinds of things were concerned. When he wanted it hard, he worked it out so he got it that way, delivered by my own loving hands. When he wanted it soft, the same. Being aware of the fact did little to change it.

This was different. Bartholomew was not going to play the boy's clever little games. All three of us knew it, although Alex was likely the last to figure it out. He clenched his fists tightly as Bartholomew walked around behind him, allowing the cat to drag along the floor. Just the sound of it was enough to leave the boy shaking.

Before the blows resumed, Bartholomew reached around and again took the thirteen-year-old's penis into his hands. This time the strokes were harsh and fast, his grip tight and unrelenting. Alex whined plaintively as his sensitive young cock was roughly abused. Of course with the yoke around his neck, he could not look up to see what was happening, but he could feel those cruel invisible hands working his most tender flesh. I could tell by my boy's weak, almost frantic groans, that he was not enjoying himself very much.

"Why aren't you cumming, Alex?" Bartholomew asked in a wicked voice. He slapped the boy's cock, hard. Alex yelped and wiggled his hips, earning him yet another slap. I thought I heard the first little sob issue from his throat, but Bartholomew wanted more. He picked up the cat and began working on the boy's backside. A new round of screams began.

It was not savage or violent as one might expect, and that, of course, was the secret of its great cruelty. Slow. Cold. Controlled. Meticulous. Each blow an individual work of art by the master handling the lash, each designed to inflict maximum pain with minimal force. I watched them carefully, the aging sadist and the child masochist as they slowly lost themselves in their natural roles. With every scream, every high-pitched little wail, every mournful whimper, it seemed Alex was speaking in a language all his own, one very few would ever understand. Most would turn away in pity, but Bartholomew only increased the frequency and severity of the lessons he was administering.

All the while the boy's erection remained in plain view, dripping and throbbing.

Bartholomew finally tossed aside the cat and selected a long, fearsome whip. Alex, naturally, could not see it coming, but he did sense it. I watched him tense as it was drawn back for the first time. It tore into his back with unbelievable force, causing the boy to jerk and swing violently in his bonds. There was no scream, for the pain had taken Alex' breath away.

I walked round behind the frame and could see the slender welts and deep bruises left by the cat. The first mark of the whip was also there, right across the small of his back, red as fire. Then it snapped through the air again, landing on the boy's badly beaten behind, already a deep shade of crimson. I watched for several more minutes as the whip did its work. Bartholomew was less swift with the blows now, allowing the boy more time to recover. It was a small gesture of tenderness I suspected he would not have given for one older or more experienced.

Still Alex was close to hysterics. And he was indeed crying, fitfully, desperately. It was a strangely beautiful sound, echoing through the large building. I suddenly noticed that it was the only sound I could hear. Everything else had stopped, and those present, masters and slaves alike, were watching the boy's ordeal in utter silence. Alex hung there by his ankles, battered and beaten and sobbing, and we all knew it was not over.

Bartholomew did not gloat over his victory; rather, he acknowledged the boy's tears with a gentle loving squeeze of his cute young feet. Alex sniffled and whimpered. Then the cat was drawn up again to rain its master's fury down upon the helpless boy with renewed vigor.

"Ahhaaa," Alex groaned. "No. No, please stop. Please."

The first coherent words Alex had managed to say in quite some time.

And another round of blows swiftly and harshly delivered.

"Please! It hurts so bad!"

Bartholomew stopped, but only to look at me from behind Alex' bruised and welted body. The boy glistened with sweat, and he was swinging gently forward and back on the ropes, a residual motion from the brutal force of the last blow. His slender arms dangled limp and lifeless, his fingers grazed the floor.

"Master Steven, your boy is making far too much noise. If you would be so kind as to gag him, we will continue."

I'd set the ball-gag aside earlier. It was there with the rest of his gear, not far from the frame. I picked it up and knelt down in front of him. The boy's eyes were swollen from exhaustion and filled with anguish.

"Please don't," he begged me softly, but he did not resist as I opened his mouth and stuffed the ball inside. I reached behind his head and buckled the straps tightly. He wiggled in protest as best he could, and then Bartholomew did indeed continue, once again with the whip. It curled around his thighs, and cracked against his back, forcing a new chorus of anguished cries from the boy's throat. The brief pause seemed to have given Alex his lungs back, and he screamed under the lash with renewed strength.

When finally the boy was reduced to sobs and whimpers, Bartholomew cast the whip aside and took the thirteen-year-old's swollen cock into his hands again. Alex hissed and cried out through his gag. He writhed and shook violently in his bonds. With his nerves whipped raw and his mind flashing with pain, the mere touch to his penis was electric. Before long, Bartholomew had the boy grunting and gasping and curling his toes.

"You're going to cum now, Alex," he said softly.

And he did. Alex let out a frantic little wail, muffled by the gag, then shot his young sperm in violent spasms. The boy's entire body shuddered as the contractions of ejaculation swept over him. Then his muscles went limp and he hung there, spent and panting and crying quietly to himself.

His was not the only voice. I was suddenly aware of a rising chorus of murmurs and whispers, all in praise and appreciation of this brave young boy, my brother, my slave. I'd quite forgotten that Alex had drawn a crowd, lost just as he was in his exquisite torment. Now I turned and faced them and met the approving gestures of other masters. Several stepped forward and shook my hand, congratulating me on training Alex so well and so quickly. Then they would pause and gaze at the slender boy suspended by his ankles, admiring the colorful collection of bruises and welts that covered him from his chest to his ankles. Blue and purple and deep red, Bartholomew had used the boy's body as a living canvas for his special art, and Alex, who would wear those marks with pride, was still sobbing, softly.

With an unspoken gesture, Bartholomew indicated it was time to get the boy down. The yoke come off first. Quite a bit of the boy's cum had fallen upon it. The boy's genitals were untied next, the release of pressure allowing one last tiny stream of sperm to dribble out. I removed his gag. He'd bitten down so hard from the pain that it bore the marks of his teeth from that day forward.

"No talking," I told him, but I knew my Alex was incapable of words at the moment. A little moan was the only sound he made.

Beaten and battered as he was, getting him upright again proved a difficult task. He cried out for a moment and struggled against my touch as I gently lifted his neck and shoulders, bending him at the waist, his legs still above his head. Once I had him under control, Bartholomew released the ropes and slowly lowered him to the ground.

Alex gasped when his backside first touched the cold floor. He lay there quietly, with his arms at his sides, wiggling his fingers and clenching them into loose fists, staring up at the bondage frame, blinking his beautiful eyes in a slow thoughtful rhythm. I'd seen him perform this ritual before at the end of our scenes, his way of absorbing all that had happened and calming himself. I knelt beside him and ran my hands gently through his hair, soaked with sweat. I kissed him on his sweet little nose and he smiled for me.

"You really are something," I said. And I meant it. Alex slowly moved his arm toward me, and I took his hand. He closed his eyes and held on tightly. I thought about that light and unsure grip I remembered from five years ago, when I first took him back home, and how so much had changed. I gave his hand a firm squeeze and he squeezed back.

Bartholomew stood over us both, and again he was the kindly gentleman we'd first encountered. "We should get him on his feet," he said to me gently. "Have the boy walk around, then you can lay him down for a while. There are suites on the second floor, I'll see that one is made ready for you."

Alex gave no sign of protest as we slowly sat him up. His breathing had slowed to a less frantic pace now, but it was still quick and shallow.

"Deep breaths, Alex," I said. "Take your time."

Once he seemed to be more in control, Bartholomew and I each put a hand under his arms and raised him to his feet. Alex groaned and winced, and he swayed awkwardly from side to side, his beautiful legs barely able to support his weight. I rubbed his shoulders. He leaned his head back against my chest.

"Come on, sweetie, walk around." I pushed Alex gently to get him moving. I kept a close eye on him but let him choose his own course. He walked around the bondage frame, studying it with tired young eyes, casually running his fingers over the wooden supports. It seemed to hold more of a fascination for him now than it had before. Alex bent over slowly, grimacing from the pain, and picked up the cat-o-nines where Bartholomew had dropped it. It was slightly longer than the one he and I always used, the leather straps a bit thinner, the knotted ends a bit smaller and tighter. Holding the grip in his left hand, he gently played the straps around his thighs and over his cock and balls. He inspected it closely, fingering the leather and feeling its weight in his hand. Finally with a self-satisfied nod, he put it back on the empty hook on the wooden frame and made his way back to me.

During this time Bartholomew had disappeared, and I noticed so too had all of Alex' gear. I was just taking the boy gently into my arms when the old gentleman returned. I spun my boy around tenderly to face him, but I still kept my arms around his shoulders, noticeably broader than they had been at the start of this wild and amazing summer neither of us would ever forget.

The experienced sadist stood before my tired young masochist and offered his hand. Alex took it with a smile, sincere, if weakened by exhaustion.

"You've got mettle, young man," Bartholomew said. "I nearly broke a sweat. Next time there will be no holding back. Clear?"

With wide awestruck eyes Alex slowly nodded his head.

Bartholomew then handed me a key. "Upstairs, third door on your right. I've taken all his things up already. You'll find some lotions for him on the nightstand. Take as long as you like. The room is yours for the duration. There's always something going on, so don't worry about missing any of the fun."

I handed the key to Alex and then took his hand. Together we headed for the stairs at the far end of the carriage house. There were still a few masters and slaves loitering about as we retired, and of course the collection of naked young men chained to the wall. None of them had moved since we arrived.

"I enjoyed hearing you scream, Alex," Bartholomew said darkly from behind, firing his last calculated blow at the boy. Alex trembled and turned his head for just a moment. I didn't see my boy's eyes, but I did see Bartholomew's, and I knew that a challenge had just been made and accepted. Alex didn't say a word. He pressed his sore and tired body against me, as close as the pain would allow, and I helped him stagger up the steps.

Our room was indeed a suite, with a comfortable sitting area, a spacious bathroom with sunken tub, a modest kitchenette, and of course a large bedroom. It was softly lit throughout and decorated in a modern style with sleek, clean-lined furniture and contrasting colors. We both smiled at each other when we entered, for it was clear Bartholomew had chosen this room specifically for its bright d‚cor, a perfect fit for a thirteen-year-old boy.

"Would you like a bath first?" I asked, as I held his head against my chest, fingering one of the silvery rings on his collar. He looked up at me and blinked his tired eyes once. I pulled gently pulled him along and he followed me into the bathroom.

"Start the water, Alex."

He did. The steam began to rise immediately.

"Undress me."

He did. Sore and covered in bruises and welts, he did. I was hard and dripping instantly.

"Do you want this?" I asked, taking the boy's hand and wrapping it around my cock. He nodded slowly and a little tear ran down his cheek.

"Kneel."

That was harder for him. He winced and whimpered as he dropped to his knees.

"Pleasure your master."

Words Alex had heard from me before, but never after he had endured so much pain or been so completely worn out and exhausted. He took me into his mouth. It was dry from screaming, but his tongue was soft and warm and wonderful. A small chorus of muffled boyish groans began as he worked my cock deeper and deeper down his throat. I could tell he was tired and struggling just to stay on his knees, but he did his best. I laid my hands on his shoulders and massaged him gently.

"Don't let me cum, save it for later."

"Mmmmph."

For several minutes he kept me on the edge, until I finally had to make him stop. I helped him stand up again and drew him close, careful not to hug him too tightly. Still he whimpered when I put my right arm around him. I reached down and cupped my left hand around his balls, kneading them in their loose hairless scrotum. He shuffled his feet and moved closer, enduring the silent anguish of his welted skin pressed again mine. Another whimper came as I gently brushed against his soft penis. It twitched involuntarily. I laid Alex' five inches [12½ cm] of flesh across the palm of my hand and gently rubbed it with my thumb. Still velvety soft like a boy's should be, but thick and substantial, a beautiful organ for a beautiful young man of thirteen.

I raised his tired eyes to my own and kissed him on the lips. His tongue danced playfully with mine as I let his penis flop back down against his balls and worked my hand delicately over his stomach and chest, causing him to take a sharp breath. I stopped to play with his nipples. They hardened instantly at my light touch. Then I bent over and took the left one into my mouth.

"Aaahh," he sighed as I bit down gently.

After both were given the same treatment for several minutes, I stood over him again, still nearly a foot [30 cm] taller than the growing boy.

"Bend over, Lexi."

He did, and I gently tugged on his butt-plug, loosening him a bit first before I pulled it out with a single motion. Alex grunted and gave me a high-pitched little squeal. As always, cleaning the plug was his responsibility. He took it to the sink and washed it off without having to be told. By the time the boy was finished, the water was warm and steamy in the sunken tub. I fished my keys from the pocket of my jeans, lying crumpled on the floor, and unlocked the boy's cuffs. Alex stood as straight and still as he could, but his young body was quivering now from exhaustion. I set the boy's restraints aside, and last removed his collar.

"Get in the tub, sweetie."

Alex stepped in gingerly, giving me a good look at the deep bruises that covered his behind and the backs of his thighs. The welts on his back were already fading a little, turning from their angry red to a soft pink. He didn't quite know what to do with himself once he was in the water. Sitting down was not something he'd be able to do for quite some time.

I got in after him, then gently pulled the boy down in front of me, setting him between my legs, letting him rest his tortured back against my chest. He sighed and lay his head back onto my shoulder. His eyes were half-closed, his breathing soft and quiet. I rubbed his arms and held his hands.

After a leisurely soak, I got him up and dried him off with great care. Then we walked hand in hand to the bedroom. I lay him across the bed on his stomach. He looked at me with hopeful, loving eyes. I lay down beside him for just a moment, caressing his back. Alex winced and whimpered and let out a long sigh.

"Are you alright?" I asked. "I want the truth."

The boy nodded slowly into his pillow. I ran a finger softly around his ear, then massaged the back of his neck. There was a bottle of lotion on the small table beside us. I squeezed a liberal amount into my hands and worked it slowly into his back. It smelled faintly of sweet pine, and Alex breathed in the vapors deeply. He flinched now and again at my touch, but I was careful to be light and gentle with him, applying the cooling, healing lotion, and pausing often to hold his hand.

When the boy was nearly asleep, I squeezed his shoulder firmly and left the bed. "Don't move," I told him. Alex let out one of those ironic little laughs that only boys of thirteen can manage convincingly. Briefly I explored the bedroom, not at all surprised to find the large mahogany armoire filled with all variety of fun toys for use on a young slave. I selected a rather mean looking dildo, thick and twisted with a large bulbous end. And then a harsh pair of nipple clamps for later.

Alex was breathing softly when I returned, but I saw his eyes flutter and knew he was still awake. I raised his head, tenderly but firmly, and took the pillow away. He dropped his head weakly onto the mattress and I worked the pillow under his stomach, raising his rear end a bit higher. The old bed creaked as we moved around, and he moaned softly. Instinctively he spread his legs, and I gave the backs of his thighs a little pat of affection.

"Good boy," I said, as I lubed the dildo, making sure a few drops fell onto his back, just to let him know what was coming. I held the frightful looking thing before his tired eyes as he lay with his head turned to one side. "Do you want this?" I asked.

I honestly couldn't tell if the muffled sound that escaped was a yes or a no, but of course his answer would not have changed anything. My index finger was nice and slippery from the lube, and I stuck it into his quivering boy-hole, all the way down to the knuckle, with no resistance at all. The larger plug had opened him nicely, and I worked one, then two, then finally three fingers inside him. Alex wiggled and groaned, then gave me a plaintive little cry when I pulled out. I moved close and licked my tongue around his opening, enjoying the fragrant musky smell of a very young teenaged boy.

Alex gasped and trembled. My tongue had touched just about every part of his body over the past two months, but this was something new and exciting. I only gave him a few brief seconds of this pleasure, just enough to make him long for it when it was taken away. From the sound he made, I knew he was not happy that I stopped.

"You have to earn your pleasure from now on, Lexi," I said sharply. "Pain on the other hand…" And I forced the dildo inside him. His head left the mattress and he screamed in agony. It was an enormous prong for a boy so young to take, but seven of its ten inches [18 of 25 cm] were quickly inside him, its thick round head no doubt causing endless torment to his already over-stimulated prostate. I left it in him like that for a minute or so while I worked my hands roughly between his legs and played with his cock and balls.

"Don't you dare get hard," I told him, knowing it was an impossible demand to make of a thirteen-year-old boy. Which was, of course, exactly why I said it.

For the next half-hour I casually abused him with the dildo. Sometimes hard and fast, causing him to writhe and sob and shout, sometimes slow and gentle, causing him to moan and coo in delight, sometimes just leaving it in him, making him wonder when it would start again. After that first thirty minutes, as he lay panting and trembling, I once again reached beneath him, and there, of course, I felt a six-inch [15 cm] hard boy-cock pressed and throbbing against the pillow.

"What did I tell you?" I scolded him a low menacing voice. "You will be punished."

"I can't help it, master," he said, his newly pubescent voice crackling awkwardly.

Immediately I gave him a hard spanking, the dildo still inside him driven yet deeper as my hands rained down upon his already bruised and welted behind. I only gave him twenty, but in his current state it was enough to drive him into a new round of frantic screams and cries.

"That was for speaking without permission," I explained after he'd calmed down. "We'll deal with your erection later." I pulled the dildo out of him and let it fall onto the floor with a thud. Without allowing him a moment's pause, I entered him and gave my boy a good long fuck. The only sounds around us were the creaking of the bed and his soft moans as he lay beneath me. I sped up as I got closer to the edge, and soon we were both panting and groaning. Alex was grinding his slender hips into the pillow. I knew what he was doing, and he'd have to pay a price for it later, but for now we were both deeply and truly lost in one another. I felt Alex' muscles tense as I came inside him, and he cried out as he spilled his seed, his second orgasm of the day.

I pulled out and rolled him onto his back. His cock, already softening, flopped against his thigh, five inches [12½ cm] of horny, beautiful thirteen-year-old flesh, wet and shiny with his young juices. Alex looked at me with dancing eyes. I crawled closer to him and presented my cock, close to his face.

"Clean it."

Bless his young heart, he was actually confused. He looked around for a rag. I moved myself closer until my dick was almost touching his lips. Then he understood and his eyes filled with dread.

"Use your tongue, Lexi."

This was clearly something he did not want to do, but he bravely raised his head and opened his mouth. I felt is warm wet tongue lapping timidly against my cock. The mere thought of him licking his own shit and my cum off the flesh that had just been used to roughly fuck him was quite a turn on. I grabbed a handful of his short chestnut-brown hair, damp with sweat, and pressed myself yet closer.

"You'll have to do better than that."

I felt the boy suppressing a gag, and then he went to work with renewed focus. His eyes were tightly closed. I could tell Alex was hating every moment of this, but he did it, because he was a slave, and his master had given him an order. After a few minutes, I gently pushed him away. My dick was wet with Alex' saliva, and perfectly clean. His hands were shaking as he stared at me. There was a look of shock, and even, was it, yes, a little anger, on his sweet young face.

"You hate me right now, don't you?" I asked.

He turned his face away from me.

"Answer me when I ask you a question, Alex. Speak."

His voice was low and quiet when he finally answered. "Yes, sir."

"'Yes, sir', what?"

"Yes, sir, I hate you right now."

"Good. How does that make you feel? Hating me."

Alex was silent for a moment. Then he turned his beautiful eyes on me once again. They were blazing. "Makes me feel like I want to tell you to fuck off and leave me alone, or something like that."

"Then why don't you?"

"You know why," he answered sharply.

"Watch that tone, young man. Tell me why."

"Because I'm a slave. It doesn't matter if I love you or hate you. I'm your slave." The emphasis on 'your' was unmistakable.

"And I can do whatever I want to you, can't I?"

"Yes, sir."

"Lie down on your back."

He did. I took the nipple clamps from the side table and crawled over him so that we were face to face. Alex was still so small and slender beneath me. Leisurely I rubbed the boy's little dime-sized nubs, suckled them and bit down gently. They were hard and glistening with moisture when I opened the first of the clamps and closed it slowly around his left nipple. Alex hissed and jerked wildly beneath me. A firm hand on his chest made him lie still again. I placed the second clamp in the same fashion as the first. They were a rather nasty set, with tiny metal teeth designed to dig into the soft pink flesh.

"Do they hurt?" I taunted cruelly.

"Awwwwhahh, goddammit, yes!" Alex thrashed his head from side to side as tears began to run from his eyes. I sat back, resting my weight on the boy's shapely legs, watching the taut lean muscles in his stomach contract has he struggled to breathe against the pain. I circled my fingers around his cute little navel, sending the ticklish boy into spasms of anguished laughter. In that moment his body seemed so tight I thought he might snap, every muscle was tensed and hard as steel. In fact only one part of his anatomy was soft at the moment, and I had to smile at that.

I worked his balls for a while, rolling them around in my hands, kneading them gently, squeezing them with just enough pressure to cause him a bit of pain. They had always hung nice and low in their loose velvety sack, even when he was eight or nine years old they'd dangle around sexily between his little legs. Now they were heavy, and he had reached that age where they seemed to be growing larger and hanging lower each and every day. I licked them and took one then the other into my mouth. Alex gasped in delight and spread his legs a little wider, always my signal that I'd given him enough to leave him desperate and frustrated.

With the clamps still in place, I worked on his bare feet for a while, alternating between gentle loving massages, and fierce relentless tickling, the combination of which left the boy in a state of near panic. I ended by kissing each of his ten young toes.

"Take a deep breath, sweetheart," I said, as I took the clamp on his right nipple between my fingers. Alex locked his eyes on me and obeyed. I removed it quickly, the harsh gripping metal teeth releasing their hold. I expected a shout or a cry, but all the boy could manage was an exhausted whimper. The other clamp came off in the same manner, eliciting the same response. I kissed him on the cheek, placed the pillow still wet with his cum beneath his head, and covered him with the sheets and blankets.

"Get some rest, Alex," I said. The boy was already asleep by the time I reached the sitting room. I could hear him moaning softly through the open door.

It was just early afternoon, yet it seemed we'd been here a full day already. Alex and I had both noticed from the very start of our new lifestyle that time moves at a different pace when one is deeply involved in a scene, something we would often comment on as the years went by. There would be times when minutes spent in the dungeon turned out to be many long hours, and others, when the pain was new or particularly hard for him, where hours were really but a few minutes.

Alex definitely needed some down time though, so I contented myself with a warm cup of tea from the little kitchenette, and a leisurely rest on the sofa, scanning several of the photo books laid out for the guests' enjoyment. I was about to drift off myself, when I heard a polite knock on the door. I set my tea aside and opened it to find Robert and Michael with warm, knowing smiles on their faces, and beside them Samuel Collins and young Sebastian. Stark naked young Sebastian I might add. The eleven- year-old boy was on all fours and wearing only a studded leather collar around his slender neck. He was leashed to a decorative bracelet around his master's wrist.

I gestured them all inside, Robert and Michael first, Sam with his redheaded nephew in tow. As the boy passed me on his hands and knees, I got a nice look at a cute pale little ass, currently plugged, and a set of tiny but low-hanging balls swinging in a soft pink scrotum. A glint of metal caught my eye and I had to look again. There was a golden ring piercing Sebastian's scrotum. Quite alluring, but I did not yet know it's true significance. This was the first time I had ever seen Sebastian naked, and my first chance to truly appreciate the delicate vine of barbed wire tattooed around his narrow waist. Normally it was hidden by the locking leather shorts, which Samuel seemed to keep the boy in at all times. I whistled in admiration. Rob and Sam both smiled. I'd already made up my mind that Alex wasn't leaving here without a bit of Samuel's artwork somewhere on his young body. Something small and inconspicuous so he wouldn't be embarrassed, but something that would always serve to remind him that he was a slave.

Robert took the comfortable chair I offered, and Samuel followed suit. Michael knelt humbly at his master's side, relieved it seemed to be off his feet, which I later learned had been beaten quite ruthlessly earlier in the day. Samuel tugged firmly on Sebastian's leash, and the boy stood up. Like Alex he's a muscular little kid, although just barely four feet [1.20 m] tall. Shapely arms and sturdy legs, and a lean flat stomach, clearly the product of strict diet and stricter exercise.

Sebastian stood with his feet wide apart, and his hands clasped behind his back. Samuel released the boy's leash and let it hang free from his collar. Surveying him from head to toe, I paused at his little boy-cock. Well, not so little actually, average size for a boy of eleven I suppose, but I had grown so accustomed over the last few years to Lexi's rather large endowment, that even a healthy youngster like Sebastian appeared small by comparison. He was circumcised, and pierced, and I quickly realized the ring in his scrotum was also the same one I was looking at now at the tip of his penis.

"A little chastity piercing," Doctor Collins explained. "Simple and effective. Take a closer look if you like. Seb."

Immediately the boy moved closer to me. I knelt down to examine his hairless genitals. The ring was small, only about a half inch [1¼ cm] in diameter. It was open on one end, so it clearly could be removed whenever Samuel wished. It had the effect of pulling the boy's cock downward and under his balls just a bit. Erection was simply impossible and orgasm out of the question.

The pants. The ring. Sebastian was being raised in total chastity. I stared at Samuel in amazement, and just a little dismay. It was not something I would ever choose for Alex. I might threaten him with it on occasion, to put some fear into him, but never actually dream of doing it, or imagine that it could be done.

"He uses it for only one thing," the doctor said with a satisfied grin. "Sebastian, what is your penis for?"

The boy stood up straight and looked his master in the eye. "For urinating, sir."

"Anything else?"

"No, sir."

"I remove the ring once a week," Collins went on to explain, "and make him keep an erection for four or five hours… "

I wondered just exactly how that was done.

"… I want to make sure he can still get hard, not that he'll ever have any reason to."

There is a dark side to Samuel Collins that shows forth at certain times. At the moment he was actually beginning to frighten me, just a little. But then he smiled and pulled Seb onto his lap and gently rubbed the boy's back.

"Of course once he starts having wet dreams, I'll have to be a bit more flexible, but it's just a habit I'm training him in."

They embraced and shared a loving kiss, then Sam quietly ordered the boy back on all fours, which is how he would remain for the rest of the day. Seb was adorable, and we all gave him a little smile, which he happily returned. Robert then rested his gray eyes on me.

"Everyone is talking about Alex' performance with Bartholomew this morning. Is it true he didn't use his safeword?"

I nodded, only just now appreciating the boy's rather incredible feat of strength and bravery. "It's true."

"Amazing. I should tell you the young man has quickly become a celebrity here. Everyone is asking when they'll be seeing him again. Wim would like to introduce him to the group this evening, before the hunt, naturally."

The hunt. The twinkle in Robert's eyes told me Alex would be more than just the guest of honor. I looked back into the darkened room where my sweet boy lay sleeping. The debate in my heart was real. I wanted the boy to experience as much as he could here, but I wasn't sure this was something I should force him to do. Robert, as always, seemed to read my doubts, and had his usual logical and masterful answer.

"It's really nothing more than an initiation for a novice slave," he explained. "Not exactly a friendly one, but Michael went through it. Sebastian did as well, and he was only eight at the time, weren't you, little one?"

Seb looked up at his master for permission, then nodded silently.

"Tell Master Steven all about it, Seb," Doctor Collins commanded in his gentle, but unmistakably final way.

The boy sat up, but obediently kept his hands and knees flat on the floor. He gazed at me with bright, vibrant green eyes. "Well, sir," he began in the subtle remains of a British accent, "I was naked, like I am now, and I got chased all over… by other masters. They had whips, and a great big net, and sticks, sir, there were sticks, long ones. I never did get caught, sir. I made it back to my master." And at those words he leaned against Samuel's leg for comfort, and received it with a gentle caressing hand on his back.

"Only boy who's ever gotten back to his master, Steven," Robert said in sincere appreciation. "But then Seb is a clever little devil. So is Alex. He'll do very well. No harm will come to him. A few cuts and scrapes in the wood maybe, but he will be perfectly safe. I supervise these little escapades myself, and you have my word."

Robert's word has always been good enough, and it was this day as well.

"Where should I bring him, and when?" I asked, my decision made.

Both of my older companions and mentors smiled softly. Robert answered. "Seven o'clock this evening. Have him in the main pavilion. He should be naked."

Robert proceeded to explain everything to me, but of course Alex was to know only that he was being hunted, and that whoever caught him would get to use him for the rest of the night, any way he saw fit, without his master around to intervene. It was a complete fabrication of course, but it would give the boy incentive not to get caught, and make him somewhat more sporting prey.

"If he does make it back to me, I must assume there's some reward in store for him."

"No," Samuel answered. "Making it back to his master's loving arms is reward enough for any slave, wouldn't you agree?"

I had to admit I liked his thinking, but Robert had another more interesting thought.

"There should be a reward alright," his tone was positively wicked, "something that will test him to his absolute limits."

"What did you have in mind?" I asked.

"Ha. No, no, Steven," he waved a playful finger at me. "You are his master, you decide. I won't have that boy hating me!"

It came to me suddenly, something we'd already played around with a bit, but never done seriously. "I want to keep him awake, no sleep at all, just torture and punishment and training, and all the sex he can take."

Robert's eyes lit up. "How long were you thinking of doing it?"

"I don't know. How long is safe for a boy his age? Three days?"

"Let's try five," Samuel suggested.

I did the math in my head. Five days would take us through the rest of the week, and Alex would still have the weekend to recover for the start of school. I agreed on the spot, and then of course the complexity of the situation struck me.

"I'm going to need some help."

"You'll have it," Robert replied. "Samuel and I, and the boys here. Two of us should always be up with him, in case he gets into real trouble. I'll have Michael work out a schedule. We'll start after the hunt is over, regardless of how it turns out."

"Alex is already exhausted," I said. "The next five days are going to be interesting."

"In more ways than you know," Robert replied with a devilish wink.

Chapter 26
New Rules

Robert and Sam stayed for close to an hour, sharing insights with me on the vagaries and protocols of this tight-knit community Alex and I had joined. And it was a community, one that existed in the shadows of everyday reality. I was told it was never to be referred to as a club – 'that's for amateurs' they told me – and those who were involved in it, masters and slaves alike, were not to be referred to as members. Associates, friends, family, these were the phrases used and expected, and the implication and expectation of permanence was quite clear.

There was, of course, a natural hierarchy, with junior slaves like Alex occupying the very bottom; but everyone, from the most experienced master to the least experienced slave, was treated with respect. Slaves did suffer humiliation at times, after all it is in their nature to do so, but there were limits, and I recalled once more Robert's guiding philosophy, that a slave's basic rights as a human being never be abused or ignored. It is a way of thinking, and a way of treating and raising Alex, that appealed to me deeply. I'd seen the boy grow happier and more confident since our journey together had begun. He was stronger now, inside and out, and yet he'd lost none of his kindness, his compassion, his thoughtfulness, his gentle nature.

Alex was a slave, but his beautiful spirit was free.

And even as he slept, the three of us continued making plans for the boy's next five days. What we would do to him and make him do, ways to push his endurance to the limit and beyond, games we would play with him to keep him confused and off balance, and awake. Michael diligently sat with pad and pencil between his legs and worked out a suitable schedule for us, ensuring Alex would always have two people watching him while the rest of the household slept in shifts. In the end, I realized, we would all be working a lot harder than Alex himself in the days to come.

"Do we tell him, or just do it?" Samuel Collins asked, as he leisurely stroked his little pet boy's back.

"That is his master's decision, I believe," Robert replied. All eyes, even young Sebastian's, were on me at that moment.

I had to think about it. Knowing Alex like I do, telling him when it began would have been the more cruel and manipulative choice, giving him time to think and worry about the entire five days within the span of a few minutes. Forcing him right into it with no warning also held a certain appeal. He would have no grasp of the larger game being played until he was well and hopelessly committed to it. In the end I chose cruelty. Alex would know and already be dreading it before we even started.

"What do you think, Michael?" I asked.

The young man nearly dropped his pencil, then looked at his master first before answering me. "I agree with you, sir. I think you should tell him."

"No. I think we'll make you tell him, with your master's permission of course," I replied sharply.

Robert grinned, as a look of absolute dismay crossed Michael's handsome and still boyish features.

"Problem, Michael?" Robert asked darkly.

The eighteen-year-old sat up straight. "No, master."

"Then it's settled," I announced. "Once the evening is over, we'll bring him back here and begin. Agreed?"

Robert and Samuel indicated their approval, and there was a playful, almost wicked smirk in young Sebastian's eyes. Something told me I would need to watch that boy carefully. Not that I expected him to be capable of cruelty, but mischief yes, to a large degree. Michael, in contrast, appeared to be in some far off place, perhaps envisioning his new and unexpected role where my Alex was concerned.

With my guests departed, I returned to the bedroom and gazed at the boy beneath the blankets. Alex lay on his right side, one hand beneath the pillow, the other resting gently above it, close to his face. He was beautiful, and in that moment I needed to be with him. Still in my clothes, I pulled the covers back and crawled in beside him. He stirred and groaned at me, then shivered, struck by the panic that often hits when one is awakened suddenly from a deep sleep.

"It's just me, Alex," I said quietly, gently squeezing his shoulder.

With a soft whimper, he rolled himself over to face me. His hazel eyes were tired, and I saw them dance, just momentarily, in apprehension, wondering what wicked game his master might be up to now. I felt a curious delight that he was beginning to think that way, but also a sudden sadness, as if the closeness we'd shared had somehow slipped away, just a little. I smiled at him, and I suppose my eyes told him it really was just me, his brother, his protector, his lover. There were times when being his master was simply too much for either of us to bear.

"You don't have to get up, honey," I told him, as his hand found mine. "I thought you might like some company."

"Thanks," Alex said, as I kissed his fingers.

"How was it?" I asked. "Being whipped like that."

My boy let his head fall back onto the pillow, and he stared straight up at the ceiling, blinking his eyes slowly. "Terrible."

"Alex…"

"I didn't say I wouldn't do it again," he replied, his voice cracking and trembling. "The worst part was knowing you were watching. I couldn't let him beat me. I wasn't going to say my word… I wasn't going to let him make me do it… even if he killed me."

"You know it never would have gone that far… but I believe you. Robert says everyone's talking about you."

"Cool."

"You liked all that attention, didn't you?"

"Sometimes," he said, moving close to me so I could wrap my arms around him. "I didn't like that thing he put around my neck."

"The yoke?"

"Yeah, that."

"Humiliating?"

Alex nodded slowly.

"That was the idea. And know that I know how much you hate it, we'll definitely be getting one for you to wear around the house."

He glared at me, but I felt his cock twitch against my leg. It was slowly hardening as the thought of being yoked like an animal ran through his head.

"That excites you."

"Yes." His voice was small and guilty, and, instinctively, the boy started rubbing himself against me.

"No more of that, little man," I told him, pushing him away.

His sweet young eyes were desperate. "Please put my belt back on. Please! I can't stand it like this."

"You have to learn, Alex. I'm very disappointed in you. You made yourself ejaculate when I was fucking you. You did not have permission to do that."

"I'm sorry, Steve. It just felt so good, I couldn't stop."

"You could have. You just didn't want to. A slave has no right to pleasure himself."

"I know. I'm in trouble, aren't I?"

"I won't punish you here, but you're going to be spending several hours in the stocks when we get home, maybe with four or five pounds [1¾-2¼ kg] of lead hanging from your balls."

Normally such a comment would have produced some smart remark from him. Instead there was only silence. A sudden thought must have crossed his mind, and it showed on his face. "Are you mad at me?"

"Aw, honey, no. I'm not mad." I stroked his arm and shoulder, then his cheek. "I know how hard it is for a boy your age to show restraint, but that's still no excuse. I'm not going to keep you in the belt all the time. That would be too easy for you. From now on, when you're not in your belt, I want you to tell me when you're having an erection. Even when we're out in public, I want to know about it, anytime, anywhere. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Every erection earns you punishment. It's your job to keep track and tell me how many you had at the end of the day."

"Man, my ass is gonna be red forever!"

"Probably," I laughed and kissed him on the forehead, and he melted back into my arms. "But there are some exceptions. When you're bound, or chained to your bed, or sleeping in your cage… anytime you can't touch yourself, it's okay for you to be hard. And when we're in the dungeon together. I expect you to have an erection then."

Alex sighed and snuggled up against me. "I like that."

"Do you?"

"Yeah. And I've got one right now."

"I know you do. But we'll start with a clean slate, alright?"

"Ok."

"Go back to sleep. I'll wake us up in a few hours."

"What'll we do then?" he asked as he rolled over onto his side once more.

"You'll see."

I got us up around five, the growling of our stomachs making further sleep impossible. I took Alex to the bathroom and cleaned him out with the enema equipment provided. The instructions told me to throw the nozzle attachment away when I was finished, and that another would be provided the next morning. How thoughtful.

It was Alex' first cleansing in several days, and it took three full bags, the second with soap, to get everything cleared. The boy whined and moaned as he stayed there on his hands and knees, the tube sticking out of his cute little ass, his ripening balls hanging low between his legs. I rubbed his thighs for him, then reached around and massaged his distended belly, working the warm water deep inside him. He was learning to hold it longer and longer, and he managed to keep the last one in for more than six minutes. The boy was pale and sweating when it was all over.

"Alright, wipe yourself."

He did, pausing to stick a finger up there and work it around, uttering a sigh from the pleasure he was giving himself. I let him have his fun for a few minutes, my own cock dripping just from watching him.

"Get your plug, Lexi," I finally said.

He trotted over to the sink and presented it to me, bending over and grabbing his ankles without being told. He'd already managed to get himself loose and moist with his finger, so the cold metal plug went in with relative ease.

"Mmm," he cooed softly, at once loving and hating the constant pressure inside him.

Back in the sitting room, Alex handed me his collar, his young eyes flashing with that wondrous mix of anxiety and excitement. He was ready to go on, I did not need to ask, or doubt. I locked his collar around his neck, running my fingers over the soft leather.

"Hug me," he demanded.

Those two words were the only orders Alex ever gave, and I always obeyed whenever I heard them.

"I love you," I told him, as he buried himself in my strong embrace. I realized I hadn't told him that in a while.

He must have read my thoughts. "You don't have to tell me. I know."

I held him that much tighter.

"Come on," I finally said, letting him go. "We're missing all the fun out there."

Alex gave me a smart little smirk.

"Go to the armoire and pick out a leash for your collar." I gave him a sharp pat on his rump to get him moving. "I saw a nice silver chain that would look good on you, but it's your choice."

He was there and back in an instant, with the exact one I would have chosen for him. Shiny, with small tight links, with a leather loop at the end for the master's use. I attached the chain to the ring in front of his collar and gave him a firm tug, nearly pulling him off his feet. It was shorter than Alex was accustomed to, just three feet [90 cm] long, meant to keep the boy close, which was my intention. I walked him around the room for several minutes so he could learn the new limits on his freedom.

"Here's the rule, just for today," I said. "I want to feel you next to me at all times. Your hand, or your shoulder, or your hip. You are never to let yourself out of my reach or out of my touch. Do you understand?"

My tone of voice told him this was very important, and I saw just a glimmer of fear in his eyes as he nodded his head. "Yes, sir."

Cuffs and harness, and his belt, remained on the floor where they'd come off. Alex gazed at them and then at me, asking his silent question.

"I'm going to keep you naked for a while. Let everyone see how adorable you are."

Alex gave me his shy trademark smile, but then his face grew thoughtful. "Is that why I need to stay close to you?"

"Brilliant deduction, Watson," I answered with a grin. "These people are strangers. I don't want you getting into trouble."

Alex knew exactly what kind of trouble I meant, and his expression became serious.

"I am going to let people touch you, and play with you," I reached down and fondled his cock, "all they want. But I promise I won't let you go." I wrapped the leather loop around my wrist and pulled him close again. I could tell by his sudden sharp breathing that he was getting nervous. Alex craves touch from those he loves, but he cringes and shrinks from it whenever it comes from other quarters.

The silver chain rattled. My poor Alex was shaking. His next words to me were a low whisper.

"I'm scared."

"I know you are. I also know you'll keep your place and do as you're told."

He nodded solemnly. "I won't let you down."

"You never have."

Pulling him gently behind me, we left our private little sanctuary and returned to the world outside.

Chapter 27
Give and Take

I hadn't told Alex about what a memorable first impression he'd made under Bartholomew's whip. My boy was surprised and delighted to hear so many masters call his name, or nod respectfully in his direction. He was somewhat less delighted to be naked and on display for them, and he did indeed attract a great deal of attention. I offered him freely, and Alex silently and obediently endured their appreciative hands as they worked over his smooth boyish chest, patted his firm little behind, and fondled his young cock. Alex often closed his eyes and looked away, unable to bear the relentless prodding and scrutiny of one stranger after another. I could tell he was starting to feel overwhelmed, and he blushed red at some of the more pointed comments made about his appearance, his posture, and of course the size of his rather generous endowment.

Still, he followed my orders precisely, never allowing himself to stray from my touch, and often pressing himself against me whenever a master was particularly rough with him.

"I'm getting hard, sir," he whispered to me on at least five occasions. The thirteen-year-old's frequent erections drew yet more attention his way, and I made him walk with it hard and throbbing and waving in front of him.

We did nothing in particular that afternoon. It was enough to mingle and begin meeting others in this hidden world of ours. Masters and slaves alike came in all ages, shapes and sizes, and some of the most experienced slaves, I noticed, were quite masterful in their own right, confident and self-assured. More than a few of them spoke openly to Alex, asking if he was enjoying himself, to which Alex invariably replied 'Yes'; asking what hobbies he had, to which Alex invariably asked 'Other than sex?' which always resulted in smiles and laughter. Never once though did another slave touch him.

I did finally pause to load up a scrumptious plate of food for myself, which Alex dutifully carried around with outstretched hands. He ate none of it, nor did he ask. When I'd finished, we went off together and I found him some fruit, and a nice piece of grilled chicken. He put his plate on the ground and gobbled everything down as if I'd not fed him in days.

"Slow down, Alex," I laughed. "People will think I'm starving you."

"I thought you were going to," he said before tearing another piece of chicken from the bone with his teeth.

Alex was just wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, when our host appeared. It was the first time I'd encountered him since our first meeting earlier in the day. He was no longer clad in his refined suit, but now in leather and black denim. Tall and slender, with a formal air about him, still a man of cultured tastes. Thomas, the handsome young door-ward who had welcomed us, was on his left. The teenager was collared, and he wore a thick leather belt and harness around his waist, chains ran from it, ending in a metal clasp that was closed tightly around his ample cock and balls, another set anchoring the butt-plug no doubt firmly seated behind. Cuffs adorned his slender ankles, and his large feet were bare. Still young enough to be naturally smooth and hairless, the boy's tanned skin seemed golden in the fading light of late summer's eve.

Beside Thomas stood a younger boy whom I judged to be close in age to Alex, fourteen at most. A little taller perhaps than my own boy, slender but not skinny, young muscles just beginning to develop in his arms and legs. He had brownish-blond hair, and his eyes, when he raised them, were an icy blue. They had a piercing quality that it made it difficult to return his gaze. He was naked, and his body quite handsome with a taut flat stomach and a narrow tapered waist. Smooth limbs lean and wiry. His cock was a pleasing sight, not overly large, not small either, but long and thick and cut, with plump balls dangling below. The boy had pubic hair, light in color and still sparse, but he was surely the only boy here allowed such an honor.

It struck me just as Wim was introducing us that this boy was not a slave, at least not like Alex, or any of the others we'd met.

"My son Joshua," our host said, gesturing to the attractive lad.

Joshua stepped forward and took my hand with a confident smile. His grip was sure and sturdy for one so very young.

"Good afternoon, sir," he said in a voice caught somewhere between boy and man. He then rested his eyes on Alex. "I've heard all about you," he said to him in a playful tone, smiling for the first time. "Wish I could've been there to see it. Nearly gave old Barto a heart attack, didn't you?"

"I guess so," Alex replied.

"I'd sure as hell like to take a crack at you sometime," the boy said with a sly grin.

The riding crop Wim carried sailed through the air and landed squarely on Joshua's ass.

"I won't tell you again about your language, boy," our host admonished his son. Joshua quickly bowed his head in submission, but I could see a defiant gleam in his blue eyes.

"I apologize for Joshua's behavior, Steven. He has the makings of a fine master, but at the moment he is quite a handful. Isn't he, Thomas dear?"

Thomas nodded without much emotion. I imagined it must have been quite difficult to take orders from a younger boy. He and Josh exchanged a barbed glare at one another, and it was clear that Wim's slave had little use for Wim's son, and that the opposite was equally true.

Wim continued, moving his eyes up and down along Joshua's lean attractive frame. There was not an ounce of fat on the boy, and his skin was perfect and unblemished. Joshua's cock was slowly hardening as he feasted his own young eyes on my Alex. "I believe," Wim said, "that we still have guests that need tending to. That is your job if I'm not mistaken."

Joshua gazed at his father with a certain sincere contrition in his eyes. "Nice meeting you, sir," he said to me, then gave Alex a little smile. With exacting, almost military posture, he turned and walked away, offering me a tantalizing view of his cute teenaged ass.

"See that he stays out of trouble, Thomas. I'll whip the hide off you if he doesn't."

The sixteen-year-old slave took the threat seriously, and ran off after his young master-in-training.

"Together they keep me quite busy," Wim said with a sigh as he watched them disappear beneath a nearby canopy filled with mingling masters and subdued slaves.

"I'll bet they fight like brothers." I winked at my own flesh and blood and my little brother risked a quiet laugh.

Wim looked at me and then at Alex, and a sardonic smile crossed his face.

"And who wins when the two of you go at it, may I ask?" came his sharp reply.

Alex chuckled again.

"You might be surprised," I said. "There are times when I wonder who's really the master, and who's really the slave."

Our host smiled at me, an expression that told me he understood and shared those feelings. "That often happens with the more… shall we say… aggressive submissives. They know their place, but they are demanding nonetheless. Thomas can still wear me out. I'm sure Alex leaves you breathless much of the time."

"For all sorts of reasons."

I held Alex close and he leaned his head against me. Brothers and lovers, just for instant, and then he was back standing in wait beside his master.

"I would very much like to introduce him to the group," Wim said. "Would you like that, young man?"

I gave the boy a silent tap on the wrist to let him know I expected him to answer. I could actually see the thrill running through him, the very idea of standing naked in front of everyone left him trembling.

"Sir, I would like that very much." And in spite of his obvious fear, I knew he was not lying.

"And will you be joining our hunt this evening?"

The thirteen-year-old's expression told me he really had no idea what to make of such a question, or which answer was expected. Out of his depths, Alex looked at me. I was not about to let the little slave off the hook. I liked him dangling there at my mercy.

"Answer the master's question, boy," I said, smacking his backside.

Alex turned his attention to Wim once more, and spoke in a soft, quiet voice, which again reminded me of just how young he was. "I don't know anything about hunting, sir. What would I have to do? I mean, I won't have to kill anything, will I?"

Wim and I both laughed at the boy's innocent questions, that is until our host's expression suddenly cooled and that wicked gleam I'd seen so often from Robert filled his eyes. "Oh, you won't be one of the hunters, dear boy," he said, moving forward and gently touching his fingers to Alex' cheek. "We have a special role for you."

Always bright and perceptive, Alex needed no further hints as to his fate. I wasn't sure what to expect of him at that moment, but he turned to me with brave determination in his hazel eyes. I put my hands on his shoulders and gazed down at him. I knew by his expression that it was now his turn not to let me off the hook. He was not going to volunteer. He was going to force me to make him do it.

Our eyes locked for what seemed the longest time. All the complexity of our relationship was laid bare for us in that moment. All the love, all the pleasure, all the compassion, all the hate, all the pain, all the indifference. And in the end, Alex was my slave. That was all that really mattered anymore.

"You will do it," I said coldly.

"I will do it," he replied the same.

"Then come with me," Wim said. "We had best get you ready. Have you eaten?" His question was directed at Alex.

"Yes, sir."

"Not much I hope."

Alex actually glared at me. It was playful, but a glare nonetheless. "No, sir. My master has not fed me much today."

"Just as it should be, little colt."

Wim lead us back to the large pavilion where we had first met his acquaintance. A quintet of naked slaves was busily erecting a low stage for the evening's festivities, and tomorrow's auction. I realized these five young men were the same ones I saw chained to the walls of the carriage house. They were collared and shackled in iron, and each wore a particularly nasty chastity belt around their waists. Our new friend Bartholomew was supervising them under his skillful whip.

Alex stared at the scene in quiet wonder, and again I could see the wheels turning in his head.

"My animals," Wim said nonchalantly.

They were impressive specimens. Two were just teenagers. Three were young men in their early twenties. All were lean and wiry and all were utterly hairless, even their heads had been clean-shaven. Iron bits were in their mouths, held in place by leather harnesses. The only sounds they made were the grunts and groans of straining muscles, and the occasional cry of protest when Bartholomew laid into them for not working up to his exacting standards.

Alex' hand found mine and he tapped gently to get my attention.

"I'm getting an erection, sir," he whispered.

Wim noticed the boy's excited state instantly. "So, you like what you're seeing do you? Perhaps next summer, once you've put on a bit more muscle, your master will let you spend a month in my stables. You'd be treated just as they are. Worked all day, tortured all night, and we'd train that cock of yours to stay soft. You'd like that wouldn't you, boy?"

Alex didn't dare to answer, but his throbbing cock made his feelings abundantly clear.

Our host eyed me with deep sincerity. "I would pay handsomely for the boy's services, Steven. For as long or as short a term as you wish."

Sell my boy to another? Even if just temporarily. The thought had never occurred to me until that moment, but the idea of my sweet young Alex toiling like an animal for another master had just planted itself irrevocably into my head. Alex and I shared a knowing glance, and we both knew it was going to be inevitable.

"He'll get a small taste of it tonight," Wim went on as he gestured me to a wooden chair. Alex remained standing.

Bartholomew left his boys to their labors and approached us with his warm and friendly smile. I noticed Alex stood up a little taller and straighter in his presence.

"Back on your feet already, Alex?" the old man asked with a wink. "I must be getting soft in my old age. You on the other hand…" he reached out and playfully stroked the boy's cock.

"Don't encourage him, Master Bartholomew," I said. "Alex has to learn to control himself."

Bartholomew's eyes lit up and he put a hand firmly under the boy's chin. "Are you going to be punished for being hard in front of me?"

"Yes, sir," Alex answered. "And for being hard in front of just about everyone else."

Alex said it in all seriousness, but it was of course funny and we all three shared a much-needed laugh. That's the magic of my Alex. Even in our darkest moments, when our respective roles seem like they are about to consume us, he brings light and joy, without even trying. He is special.

"Alex has agreed to be our guest of honor this evening," Wim explained, patting the kid on the shoulder.

"Has he now?" Bartholomew asked, studying the boy with his dark gentle eyes. "You're in for quite a time, young man. Ever been hunting before?"

"No, sir."

"Well, it doesn't really matter. You'll mostly be running. You are a fast runner, aren't you?"

"I think so, sir," Alex said, adding a quiet "I hope so," under his breath.

"Are you plugged?"

"Yes, sir."

"And have you ever run with a plug inside you?"

Alex nodded. "Master makes me run at home, sir. I like the feeling, sir."

Bartholomew tried his best not to smile, but the boy's charm has that inevitable effect on just about everyone. "Well then let's see how well you do."

Alex looked to me for guidance.

"Master Bartholomew's in charge of you for the rest of the day. Obey him." I turned to the seasoned master. "Do whatever you want with him."

Wim later told me he could actually see Alex stagger under that simple, calculated blow. The boy was stunned, and his mouth dropped open. I'd given him over to Robert's care once before, but only briefly. This was a man he hardly knew, and genuinely feared. It did not occur to me then, that even as I stood there, I was once again abandoning him.

Bartholomew took Alexander's leash and pulled him close, staring down into the boy's frightened eyes. "Would you like to finish what we started?"

Alex trembled. "No, sir."

A tender pat on the head. "One day you'll ask for it. Now, show me how fast you can run. Up to the stage and back."

The boy took off as fast as his strong young legs could carry him. There and back in no time.

"Did I tell you to stop?" Bartholomew asked when Alex was standing in front of him again.

"No, sir, you didn't." And he quickly starting running again.

Back and forth. Back and forth. And all the while the slaves busily erected the stage, not once pausing from their labors to watch the naked boy running to and fro. Bartholomew kept the boy occupied that way for a good twenty minutes, often leaving him to whip one of the "animals" into shape. Wim and I sat back and enjoyed a leisurely conversation.

I learned that Joshua was his adopted son, and that Robert had played some role in the affair, on which Wim would not elaborate. Nonetheless I was left with the impression that the boy had been given away by his parents, or perhaps sold. Wim was reluctant to discuss it further, but he did speak of the boy with a certain pride.

"Josh still fights me sometimes," he said, "but he's mostly a good boy. He shouldn't have spoken to Alex that way though."

"Alex seemed rather flattered."

Wim laughed. "Of course he did. Your boy is a natural flirt, Steven. Nevertheless, Joshua is too young to address another man's slave in such a crude manner. He will be severely punished, rest assured."

That of course, was something I would have dearly loved to see.

I left the pavilion for a while after Wim excused himself. Alex saw me go and almost ran after me. He stopped himself with some effort, and my last vision was of him standing before Bartholomew with his hands behind his head listening as the man firmly gave him his latest instructions. Things had grown quiet and few people were about as I walked alone amongst the gardens. It was early evening now, and most of the guests had retired to their rooms in preparation for the night's festivities. I made my way up to the main house, where Thomas and Joshua greeted me. They were both still quite naked and clearly disappointed that Alex was not in my company.

"Dr. Collins is giving a demonstration in the drawing room, sir," Joshua said with knowing eyes.

Drawing room. A word not normally found in a fourteen- year-old's vocabulary, but then I'm sure there were many words young Joshua knew that others his age had never dreamed of using. Of course I remembered Robert mentioning that the good doctor would likely demonstrate his arts today, and I quickly had Thomas show me in.

Immediately I felt as if I had entered some bizarre science fiction film. Surrounded by the dark paneling and exquisite antiques of a by-gone age, there was, in the very center of the room, a metal-framed examination chair padded in leather and lit by four harsh overhead spotlights on all sides. I recognized its diminutive occupant immediately.

Young Sebastian was strapped down tightly, his arms at his side, his legs spread wide. The boy's head was immobilized by a cruel harness, and he was gagged, muzzled to be precise. The bright light against his pale skin made him appear to be glowing. His slender young body already had a sheen of sweat from the lamps, which glistened as his master began the lecture. Samuel Collins was in his white lab coat, every bit as formidable on him as black leather would be on another.

There was not an empty seat to be had, so I accepted standing room at the rear, which still afforded me an excellent view.

"Gentlemen," Collins began, "You are all no doubt aware that the area of skin between the anus and the base of the scrotum is highly erogenous, especially in the young." He then moved his right hand between Sebastian's legs and ran a single finger gently along the area in question. Sebastian jerked helplessly in his bonds and let out a high-pitched squeal. "As you will notice as I continue, the subject is becoming aroused."

The eleven-year-old's penis was swelling in a futile attempt to erect itself, permanently held down against his balls by the chastity ring. Seb wiggled and moaned as the pleasure washed over him.

"Were it not for the ring," the doctor continued, "the subject would be fully erect at this moment."

The audience hummed and nodded their agreement.

"Today you will witness a perineal piercing." He then held up a thick stainless steel ring, nearly two inches [5 cm] in diameter. "As you can see the ring is quite large. Once in place, it will provide an excellent point for restraining the subject. Its conductive properties will also allow for… stimulation… of certain regions of the body."

Murmurs and wicked laughter filled the room.

"Further its diameter will help ensure a proper standing posture. The subject will be unable to close his legs henceforth."

Laying the ring aside, Sam rolled a tray of supplies near the chair and picked up a long and rather intimidating needle.

"As you know, the subject is normally not anesthetized for piercings, but this is an extremely delicate and painful procedure, and I do not want him moving any more than is necessary. Thus a local anesthetic will be used."

Without further explanation, the doctor inserted the needle into the boy's abdomen. Sebastian offered no reaction. I imagined he was quite accustomed to being poked and prodded after all these years. Several minutes were allowed to pass before Sam selected a small clamp and a much larger and thicker needle from his collection.

The clamp was placed, eliciting a soft cry from the young patient.

"As you can see, the subject does still have some sensation."

The piercing needle came next. Sebastian gasped sharply but made no further sounds. His master applied thick soft gauze to stem what bleeding there was. Then he carefully inserted the ring and locked the clasp. A soldering iron came next, making the boy's latest modification permanent. We were all invited to step forward and take a closer look.

Sebastian lay there motionless, wiggling just his fingers and his toes, his green eyes gazing off into an unseen distance. Samuel gently turned the new ring, and applied a disinfecting cream between the boy's legs. A question was asked about infections in such a sensitive area.

"Regular antiseptic cleanings and no restrictive clothing for two weeks until it has fully healed. Then normal hygiene will suffice."

Everyone had their turn to inspect the boy close up. I noticed no one touched his cock or his balls. Young Seb was well known here, naturally, and no hand but that of his master ever dared touch him there.

"Your thoughts, Steven?" he inquired as the others began to talk amongst themselves.

"I'm a bit speechless."

"Modification is not for everyone. I understand completely."

"Sebastian seems to be in heaven though," I observed, for it was certainly true. The look in his eyes was priceless.

"I'd been promising him something special for quite a while, something no other boy has."

"It's certainly unique."

The boy's eyes smiled at me, and he promptly fell asleep.

I returned to the pavilion to find my Alex hard at work with the other slaves putting the finishing touches on the stage. The boy was sweaty and quite dirty. He paused and looked at me expectantly when he saw me enter.

"Keep working, Lexi," I said as I walked by.

Bartholomew greeted me with a casual smile. "Alex is a good little worker," he said, holding up a riding crop. "I've only had to use this on him twice. And once I confess was just for fun."

"As long as he's been behaving himself."

"He most certainly has. And we're just about ready. Alex, over here please. Now."

Alex immediately and literally dropped what he was doing and trotted over to us, the leash dangling from his collar, his young cock flopping between his legs.

"Any erections while I was gone?" I asked him, running my hands over his stomach.

"No, sir," he said without a smile. "I was a good boy."

I kissed him on the forehead, and for just an instant he moved as if he were about to hug me, but he stopped himself and stood as straight and tall as his five-foot [1.50 m] frame would allow.

"There's really nothing more to be done for now," Bartholomew told us as the first guests began to filter in to the pavilion, filling the seats nearest the stage. "Please remove Alexander's leash."

I did as instructed, getting a good whiff of my smelly boy as I unclasped the chain from his collar. I rolled it up and put it in my pocket for later.

"A place has been reserved for you, Steven," Bartholomew said, pointing to a front row chair by the aisle. "The boy will stand."

And stand Alex did, for nearly an hour while the gathering slowly came together. I had to remind him to stay in position with an occasional slap on the behind. His head was bowed, always a sign that he was tired, or nervous, or uncomfortable, and I'm sure this time it was a combination of all three.

"Keep your eyes forward, boy," I said, slapping his ass again.

He made a half-hearted effort to comply then turned his head just a bit to look at me. It was becoming too much for him. I could see it in his eyes.

"It's alright," I whispered. "You can put your head down if you need to. I know it's hard to have everyone looking at you."

"Thanks, Steve," he whispered back and quickly focused his eyes on the ground again.

I rubbed the backs of his thighs, smooth and silken. He sighed contentedly.

"That feels nice."

"Keep your voice down, Alex."

"Sorry."

"It's ok," I said softly. "We can talk, but we shouldn't let the others hear us."

"Gotcha. What should we talk about?"

"You, silly. Are you doing ok?"

There was a pause before he answered. "I guess."

"Still scared?"

"Uh-huh. This isn't like when it's just us at home… or even when we're with Master Robert. There's so many people here. It's hard."

"I know. You're doing great though. Everyone loves you."

He wiggled his hips a bit to make his cock and balls flap around. Then he snickered under his breath. "Lots of me to love!"

"You little slut."

"You big pervert."

I put my arm around his waist and pulled him close for moment. He was back in position before anyone even noticed.

"It's harder than I thought," he whispered. "Being naked in front of everybody. I don't like it when they touch me."

"Your dick seems to."

Alex didn't have an answer for that and we spent the next few minutes in silence, until Wim took the stage to kick off the night's festivities. As he welcomed us, I saw Samuel and Robert come in, with Sebastian and Michael trailing close behind. Mike looked very tired and rather worse for wear. It seemed as if Robert had been going rather rough with him these last few hours. Sebastian, wearing just a long black T-shirt, walked awkwardly behind his master. He was grimacing with each step, still growing accustomed to the new jewelry between his legs.

After a few brief words, Wim turned his attention to me. "We do have some newcomers with us this evening, friends of Master Robert's. I'm sure most of you have already met them, but it is only appropriate they be formally introduced. Master Steven, would you and Alex join me please."

I got up and patted Alex on the butt. He fell in step behind me. I could hear the light padding of his bare feet as we made our way to the stage. Once there I grasped his wrist and pulled him in front of me. The slender thirteen- year-old shuffled nervously toward our host.

"Turn and face everyone, boy," Wim said in a low voice.

Without hesitation, Alex obeyed.

"Alex, stand," I ordered.

He spread his trembling legs and clasped his hands behind his head. I could see his chest rising and falling in quick breaths.

"A fine young slave, wouldn't you all agree?" Wim asked, stirring murmurs of approval from the others. "Turn round, boy, let them see all of you."

Alex turned to the left in a slow circle, and gentle tap on the thigh from Wim's crop was his command to stop.

"May I ask your boy some questions, master?" Wim inquired of me.

"Certainly."

"How old are you, Alex?"

"I'm thirteen, sir," my sweet boy said in a small, private voice.

This time it was my hand on his thigh, hard and swift. "Speak up, Alex. No one can hear you."

"I'm thirteen, sir," he said over the crowd, his voice breaking just slightly.

"And how long have you been a slave?"

"Two months, sir," the boy replied sharply.

"Are you a good boy?"

"Most of the time, sir."

Wim and I shared a smile.

"Do you ejaculate?"

"Only if I have my master's permission, sir."

Wim moved close to the boy's ear and ran his hand down Alex' back. "Only then?" he asked with ice in his voice.

Alex shivered. "Well… I mean… no, sir. Sometimes I'm bad."

"And you make yourself cum?"

"Yes, sir."

"You're getting hard, boy."

He was.

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir."

"And are you allowed to have erections like that?"

"No, sir."

"What happens to you when you do?"

"I get punished, sir."

Alex was shaking like a leaf, but his raging hard-on was already leaking.

"And who punishes you?"

"My master, sir."

"How?" Wim continued the inquisition.

"He spanks me, sir."

"I see," was Wim's cold reply.

A chair was then brought onto the stage by young Joshua. The boy wore a tight latex jock, which did nothing to hide his own erection. That and his studded collar were the only items upon his lean and hairless body. Wim gave his son a gentle kiss on the lips before ushering the boy away. He then bore his eyes into Alexander.

"Do you deserve a spanking right now?"

Alex was savvy enough to know the answer to that one. "Yes, sir."

I sat down and called him over to me. A public spanking. Alex' face was already red, his eyes already moist when I put him over my knees.

"Count out loud, Lexi, so everyone hears you."

"Yes, master."

My hand sufficed for the first fifty. Then Joshua returned with a paddle in his hands and a wicked grin on his face. I picked up the wooden enforcer, noticing the holes drilled in its surface and the name "Joshie" burned onto the handle. By its well-worn appearance, I could tell it was quite well acquainted with the fourteen-year-old's cute bottom.

Alex stopped counting and started screaming after twenty or so blows. I continued until his rear end was a nice shade of purple and the first dark bruises began to appear.

"Stand up."

With some effort he did so. Worse for him, he would later tell me, was having to turn and face everyone with tears running down his cheeks. His erection was gone.

"Thank you, master, for spanking me," he said quietly.

"Anytime, Lexi."

Bartholomew joined us on stage, and I knew the time had come. There was a certain electricity in the air. Everyone could feel it, especially Alex, who still did not know exactly what was in store for him. Come to think of it, neither did I. Wim raised his hands for silence.

"Alex here has graciously… volunteered… to be our most special guest this evening. Would those of you who drew the winning numbers please come forward."

Ten masters left their seats and their slaves and took the stage. Alex and I had met a few of them during the day, but they were all still mostly unfamiliar. I felt Alex shrink and saw him shudder, and he suddenly seemed like a little boy again, standing there naked surrounded by grown men, masters all.

"If you would be so kind as to remove the boy's plug, master," Bartholomew said to me.

I bent Alex over, holding him down with a hand upon his back, and pulled the metal plug out of him without ceremony. They boy shrieked and danced on his bare feet. Bartholomew then presented me with another plug, quite large to ensure that it would not fall out when the boy was running. It ended with a long tail of red fur. Fox. How fitting.

"This is going to hurt going in, honey," I told him. "And even more coming out."

"I'm ready, master." And he relaxed and opened himself for me as best he could.

With some effort and more than a few tears on the boy's part, I managed to get it seated inside him. The fox tail hung between his smooth hairless legs. Alex looked positively adorable with it sticking out of his ass.

Wim gestured to me silently and I took his meaning clearly.

"On your knees, Alex," I said.

The boy knelt before us all, his head bowed. Was it out of fear? Out of shame? Was he simply into his role as was so often the case? There was no time to consider his thoughts. Joshua appeared again, with Thomas beside him, and four large black hounds on chain leashes.

I suppose I never mentioned that Alex is terrified of dogs. But he is. Always has been. Had I known they were a part of the plan, I honestly never would have agreed to let them do this to him.

"Listen carefully, Alex," the voice of Bartholomew was soft and friendly, as it always seemed to be just before he engaged in unspeakable cruelty. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, boy."

Alex raised his head. It was the first time Bartholomew had called him by anything other than his name. "You are going to be hunted, just like a dirty little animal. You will not be bound. You will have your arms and legs, your hands and feet. And of course your head. Use it. Your only job is to find your way back here, to your master."

My boy's eyes widened in panic.

"If you get to him, before one of us gets to you, you win. If one of us catches you first, you lose. Those are the only two things that will end the hunt. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Large nets were brought out, and thick ropes, and each master was also given an electric prod.

"If another master catches you, you become his property for the rest of the evening. Of course he will not be permitted to inflict any permanent damage, but he may do as he pleases with you, and you will obey and serve him."

Alex nodded that he understood.

"Bring the dogs."

Joshua and Thomas led the dogs forward, and brought them to a stop growling in front of Alex. The canines moved in close and sniffed the boy, nearly knocking him over. They were huge, fully-grown animals, and just one of them alone would be enough to overpower a thirteen-year-old boy.

Everyone did take momentary pause at the genuine terror in the boy's eyes. Bartholomew knelt down and ran his fingers through Alex' hair.

"Afraid of dogs?"

Alex nodded, unable to stop shaking.

"All the more reason to run fast. They are trained not to bite. But they are trained to chase, and they will get their paws into you if they catch you. There are woods behind the pavilion. You might be able to hide from us there, for a while. Thomas and Joshua will hold their leashes for sixty seconds. Once they're unleashed, we all follow. They've got your scent now. I'd start running if I were you."

Bartholomew handed me his prod. I knew what was expected. The look Alex gave me chilled my heart. I pressed the prod into his thigh and heard the crackle of electricity. The boy yelped.

"Run, Alex."

He scrambled to his feet, jumped off the stage and ran out of the pavilion, turning right and then making a sharp left, redirecting himself toward the woods. And like that he was gone. Sixty seconds later, so were the hounds.

To this day Alex never talks about the hunt.

I stood outside the pavilion waiting for him, part of me hoping he would return safely to my arms, another part highly aroused at the prospects of what would happen if he didn't. I could see them in the woods, see the lights from their flashlights, and hear their taunting calls. Once or twice I heard one of the hounds growl or bark. And I did catch a glimpse of Alex once, right at the edge of the tree- line where the floodlights from the gardens washed the woods in a soft artificial daylight. He was crouching there against a tree, shaking and exhausted and less than twenty- five yards away. Our eyes met for just an instant, and I called to him. I couldn't help myself.

Alex drew himself awkwardly to his feet. I smiled at him. He'd made it. Just one more short sprint across the grass and it would be over. The boy stared at me in silence for what seemed an eternity. And then he did something I never could have imagined he'd do. Something he has never explained to me, ever. He turned his back on me, and ran back into the woods.

Forty-five minutes later, it was indeed over. A master I had not yet met returned, dragging Alex roughly behind him. My boy's hands were tied tightly and painfully behind his back, and a long rope had been looped around his neck to serve as a leash. The boy's body was covered in cuts and scratches from his time spent naked in the woods, and he walked gingerly on bare feet that were sore and bruised from tripping over rocks and roots in the dark. He stared at me for a moment, then just as quickly turned his hazel eyes away.

"Congratulations, Master Vincent," Wim said as the man came to stop before us, pulling Alex close to him. Joshua and Thomas we sent running to retrieve the dogs and let the other master's know the hunt was over. Alex had lost. And some small part of me, one I did not want to acknowledge, knew he'd done it on purpose.

Chapter 28
Magic and Loss

I've said before that Alex has a certain magic about him, a way of turning people's emotions inside out. He can bring joy with the merest flash of his beautiful eyes, or the gentle touch of his hand. He can also take it away when it suits him, or bring other less welcome feelings into the light. He'd be a mystic, if fantasy and magic were things I believed in. But I don't. What he is instead is a skilled manipulator. Most times I know he's not even aware of the effect he has on those around him, me especially, and he does it without meaning to.

But just as I have learned that I have a certain power to hurt him, Alex knows he has the power to hurt me in return.

He would not look at me as he stood there, battered and exhausted from the nightmarish chase that had lasted nearly two hours. A chase he could have ended, and didn't. And now we would both pay a price for it at the hands of a man neither of us even knew.

Had it been Robert, or Samuel, or even Bartholomew, perhaps it would not have seemed so awful. Not that there was anything overtly sinister about this Vincent. I'd noticed him earlier. Younger like myself, with a handsome slave just out of his teens. He'd done nothing to indicate that he might not be trustworthy, but I could tell by his posture, and the way he had my boy tied, that he was likely a rough and stern master. And of course there was the simple fact that he did not love Alex. He did not know what makes my boy happy, what makes him sad, what makes him smile, and what really and truly hurts him. How could I just let this man take him for the night?

Vincent extended his hand to me as the other masters gathered round, all quite disappointed in the outcome and quite jealous of the winner's luck, or skill. His grip was strong and sure.

"Quite a boy you have here, Master Steven," he said in a soft voice.

I had no argument there. Alex still would not raise his head.

Vincent turned the boy round so I could see his backside. There between his shoulders was a livid scratch, bruised around the edges. The mark was unmistakable. "Mayday had his paws into him when I found them. It's a good thing the boy was plugged or we'd still be trying to get them apart."

That was a vision I quickly ushered from my mind, but of course, it kept coming back in spite of my best efforts, as all my visions of Alex in unspeakable torment often did.

I had to force myself to focus on Wim as he quietly explained the rules. "Vincent, the boy is yours until midnight. You may do as you wish with him. Steven, you cannot interfere."

I nodded that I understood.

Wim continued addressing the victor, as Alex stood straight and still and quiet beside him, the wiggling of his toes the only movement he made. "You are strictly forbidden to do anything that might cause lasting injury. Alex has a safeword. You will respect it."

"Of course," the young master said, looking at me with surprisingly gentle eyes. "Still, I would very much like to hear him scream."

I couldn't help but smile, even as my heart raced in my chest. "He'll scream beautifully for you." Alex raised his head for just a second and gave me a vacant stare. Then he lowered his chin to his chest once more.

"I'm sure he will."

"At midnight," Wim continued, "you will return the boy to his master," and he handed Vincent a card that certainly had my room on it.

Vincent then turned his eyes to me. "Master, I will release my claim on him if you wish."

It was the gesture I'd been told to expect should Alex get himself caught, and it was given with all sincerity. I almost took it without a second thought. But I didn't. Instead I stood in front of Alex and studied this boy I'd always thought I knew so well. He was filthy and utterly spent, his rapid breathing the only visible sign that he was currently terrified. With a hand under his chin I forced him to look at me.

He was angry. Angry at me for leaving him alone most of the afternoon, for putting him on display when I knew he hated it, most of all for making him do this, for the dogs, for the chase, for just about everything else he could think of in that moment.

In the lowest, softest voice I'd ever heard him use, Alex spoke just two words to me.

"Fuck you."

If it was his intention to make me angry in return, it worked. I took his leash from my pocket and handed it to Vincent. "Take him."

And he did. Roughly. Alex stumbled along behind, and I watched until they disappeared into the house. Wim's hand found my shoulder.

"I've known Vince since he was Joshua's age. Perfectly safe. Make no mistake, he will be very hard on Alex. Expect quite a few bruises when you get him back, but your boy likes being knocked around doesn't he?"

"Yes, he does. And sometimes he hits back."

Wim looked at me with warm and perceptive eyes. "Are you two fighting?"

"No. He's just sending me a message. If you don't mind, I need some time to myself."

"Certainly." Our host excused himself with his usual formal style.

Alone, I returned to our empty room in the carriage house, nothing left to do but watch the clock and wonder what was going on in the main house, as the lights from its many windows shone toward me across the manicured lawn.

I'd stretched out on the sofa and was already half- asleep when Robert and Samuel let themselves in. They were both dressed in worn comfortable jeans and denim shirts. Michael was as well, looking quite handsome with his blond hair swept back. Young Sebastian was still in his black T- shirt, and now he also had a silken pair of black soccer shorts around his waist, loose-fitting so as not to irritate the freshly pierced flesh between his legs.

"I believe there is the little matter of our wager, Sam," Robert said, clearly concluding a conversation from outside.

With a frown and a sigh, the doctor reached into his back pocket and pulled out a substantial roll of bills which quickly found its way into Robert's hands.

"I'd have bet a hundred times he was a winner," Collins said with certain disappointment in his voice. Robert only laughed.

"You bet against Alex?" I asked in mock disdain.

"Turned out to be the smart one, didn't I?" Robert

replied with his typical biting sarcasm.

My friends made themselves comfortable while young Sebastian was sent to the bar to make drinks for everyone.

"Kid makes a mean martini," Samuel said to me as I watched the redheaded eleven-year-old pouring and shaking and plopping olives into the glasses. "Sure you won't have one?"

I certainly could have used one at that moment, but that kind of stuff was off limits, for my own sake, and for Alex. "Iced tea will be fine," I replied.

Sam nodded, and his eyes told me he understood. I know Robert hadn't said anything about the problems of my youth, it is not his way to share secrets, but Samuel Collins is a rather perceptive character.

"It doesn't mean I can't enjoy watching our little bartender though," I offered with a laugh. It was after all an incredibly adorable scene. The little guy was too short and had to kneel on one of the stools in order to reach the counter. He wiggled his bare toes and hummed a little song to himself while he worked. It sounded classical.

"Brahms," Sam proclaimed in answer to my unvoiced question. "I think. He knows them better than I do. Brahms?" he called out.

"Yes, master," Sebastian replied without turning from his duties. He resumed his little one boy symphony without missing a note.

"Is that all he's listening to these days?" Robert asked with a chuckle as he sat down beside me, pulling Michael onto the cushion next to him.

"No. I'm sorry to say he's discovered rock. Or what passes for it these days. I had to wash his mouth out last week for singing some lyrics I did not approve of."

Somehow I imagined that the classic boyhood punishment took on some wicked twists under Samuel Collins' direction. He smiled at me.

"It was just a bar of Ivory, Steven. Honestly, you must think I'm some sort of monster. Of course he was strapped down at the time, and it was in his mouth for about three hours. You won't be singing that song again, will you, boy?"

"No, sir," the redhead called back, just now placing the glasses on a silver tray. Sebastian then walked toward us, expertly balancing it with one hand. He held the tray down to me with a bright smile and I took my tea.

"Thank you, Sebastian."

"My pleasure, sir."

He served everyone, then stood in front of Samuel with the tray tucked neatly under his arm.

"May I have a Pepsi, master?" he asked.

"Do you think you've been good today?" came the playful reply.

Little four-foot [1.20 m] Seb stood tall. "Very good, sir."

"Alright. Just one. No refills."

"Yes, sir!" And the boy scurried off to the bar once more.

"Too much sugar makes him jumpy," Sam explained. "But he's earned a special treat today."

"How's his… "

"Healing nicely already."

Robert laid a hand on my knee as Sebastian toddled back and sat down gingerly at his master's feet, being sure to place his aluminum can on a coaster. That boy is almost too mannerly. It is rather disconcerting at times.

"Wim told us you had come back here," Robert said. "Are you having a hard time with this?"

I nodded, but of course Robert as yet had no clue as to the real reason.

"I'm surprised Alex was caught," Sam offered, almost consoling me it seemed. "Perhaps Bartholomew wore him out a bit more than he was letting on."

"No," I said, sipping my tea. "He let himself get caught. He's trying to teach me a lesson."

Robert shook his head and grinned. "I was sure he'd do something like this sooner or later. He likes to push people's buttons, yours especially."

"He's very good at it."

"Masterful, I would say. But I'm afraid he has bitten off a bit more than he bargained for with Vincent."

I was about to get to my feet and run off to find him, such was Robert's tone, but my friend and mentor held me back. "Don't misread me, Steven. Vincent is trustworthy. He would never truly harm anyone. But he is also very cruel and very harsh, and not nearly so patient and tolerant as I am."

Michael laughed in spite of himself.

"You will pay for that, dear boy," Robert said, smacking the eighteen-year-old on the thigh.

"Vincent plays rather rough. Alex is not used to that. The boy is having a difficult time right now, rest assured, and no doubt regretting his decision."

"Do we go forward with our plans?" Samuel asked, "when the boy returns."

I had to think about it, but not for long. "We do."

At exactly midnight, there was a knock at the door. I was the only one wide-awake. Sebastian lay curled up in Samuel's arms as they both lay snoring across the sofa. Robert had taken Michael into the bedroom hours ago for a good hard fuck and neither of them had come back out. Seb cracked his eyes open as I walked by. The knock came again.

"Why don't you get everyone up, sweetheart?" I said to him softly. He yawned and stretched and nodded his cute little red head.

I opened the door, and there was Vincent with a rather satisfied look on his face. Alex lay at his feet, tightly and rather brutally hog-tied, a cum-soaked cloth rag in his mouth to gag him. I noticed fresh welts and bruises on his back and thighs. Lots of them. And there was a single red rose sticking out of his butt.

Vincent smiled at me. "Alex has a great little ass, master. And he does scream beautifully."

"Did he behave himself?"

"Not at first, but we came to an understanding, didn't we, boy?"

He kicked Alex in the ribs. Not a real kick. Just a soft little touch of his booted foot. Alex moaned softly and nodded his head.

"Don't suppose he's for sale?" I saw the wink in Vincent's eyes. Alex of course did not. He moaned again and bucked in his tight and merciless bonds.

"Afraid not," I said, after allowing a bit of silence to make the boy worry.

"Well, I had to ask. See you around kid."

And with that he turned and walked away.

By now Robert and Sam had made their way toward the door. Together we lifted Alex off the floor and deposited the naked boy in the center of the room. He struggled for a moment, his calculated show of distress. Then he lifted his head, with some real difficulty, and gave me that look I'd come to know so well. The one that said, 'I'm done. You can untie me now.'

I knelt down and pressed my fingers into the sticky rag that filled his mouth. It was tied tightly behind his head.

"Yours or his?" I asked as I wiped the spent cum on his forehead.

He jerked sharply and glared at me. "mmmph."

Reading my thoughts I heard Robert whisper to Michael. "Bring Master Steven a cane. If you choose one not to my liking, I will thrash you to a bloody pulp."

The young man's face paled, and he gazed down at Alex, lying there bound and momentarily motionless. It was not difficult to tell what was in his heart, but, as always, he did as ordered. And as always, I noticed his selection was rather harsh. A long thick cane with a steel tip. I wondered. Was it his fear of Robert's threats, or something else that led him to show those flashes of cruelty whenever Alex was concerned?

"Perhaps that one would be a little too effective, Michael," his master whispered softly.

Standing as they were behind him, Alex could not see the evil implement of torture in his dear sweet Michael's hands.

"I… I'd like to see what it does to him, sir." It was the first time Mike had ever professed a desire to cause Alex pain. Alex heard those cold words, uttered by a young man he deeply loved and admired, and pressed his head into the antique Persian rug on which he lay.

Robert looked at me. I nodded. "But Michael must do it himself."

"I think that was the idea, Steven."

Michael stood over the boy and swung the cane a few times to get the proper mechanics. "Where, sir?" he asked me.

Tied as he was, the soles of Alex' feet were vulnerable and defenseless. Pale and soft. "His feet," I said.

"Mmmph! Mmmph!" Alex fought desperately to free himself, only straining his stretched and aching muscles that much more.

"Alex."

He was rubbing his wrists raw.

"Alex!" I shouted at him, which I rarely ever do. "Be still!"

Finally I had to kneel in front of him again, and take his head between my hands.

"Look at me."

He did, with venom in his eyes.

"You're being punished. I think you know why."

He closed his eyes in that smug manner thirteen-year- olds master so well.

"Look at me."

He did. Tears were coming now. I reached behind his head and untied the cloth.

"Who's sperm is this?" I asked him gently.

His face flushed with guilt. "It's mine, sir."

"So you enjoyed yourself then."

"No, sir." There was no doubting the sincerity of his denial. "He made me cum, sir."

"How many times?"

"Until it started to hurt, sir."

I stuffed the rag back into the boy's mouth. "Can you snap your fingers."

With a frightened whimper he nodded and demonstrated that he could.

"Snap them twice if you need to take a break," I told him. "But we decide when you're finished. This is punishment, Alex, not play. It's time you learned the difference."

He closed his eyes and turned his head away from me.

"Ten strokes, please," I ordered.

Michael drew the heavy cane back and brought it down sharply. It made a low whistle as it cut through the air. The sound that came when it hit the boy's feet was hard to describe. Somewhere between a crack and a thud.

Alex shrieked into his gag and balled his hands into fists. Already a livid red welt crossed his right foot where the cane had struck. Michael did it again. Alex howled and choked back a sob. Then another blow, this one landing on both feet at once.

Alex snapped his fingers.

Michael stopped, but did not put the cane down. We gave the boy several minutes to recover as we all stood over him. Sebastian was utterly fascinated and reached his hand out to touch Alexander's feet. Dr. Collins took his wrist and gently pulled him away.

I nodded to Michael and he began again. He was crying, but he delivered three more strokes with expert precision. Alex was beside himself. Mike raised the cane again, determined to carry out the boy's sentence. Samuel's hand stopped him.

"I think he's had enough," he said softly. "Any more, and nerve damage becomes a possibility. Besides, I have a better idea." He whispered something to Sebastian and the redheaded boy quickly scurried off toward the armoire, returning with five long black feathers, handing one to each of us with a deliciously evil smile on his face.

With the gentlest touch, I ran the feather across my boy's right foot. Alex jerked wildly.

Receiving encouragement from his master, Sebastian did the same with the helpless left foot in front of him. Alex took in a sharp breath and tried to roll onto his side. Robert's boot between his shoulder blades pinned him down quickly.

"Don't move, slave," Robert hissed sharply.

Sebastian and I continued with the boy's feet. Samuel and Michael knelt down and worked their feathers up and down the boy's sides, concentrating on his ribs where he was most ticklish. Hog-tied and gagged, and pinned by Robert's pressing weight, Alex had no hope of defending himself against this assault. He howled and cried and struggled like a little madman, only to receive further torment for his efforts.

We tortured him with the feathers for thirty minutes. Alex was breathless and in hysterics when we finally stopped. He whined plaintively when he discovered he was not about to be untied. We busied ourselves in the little kitchenette, preparing a late snack. Young Sebastian yawned, causing us all to do so, but a bit of food and drink would help restore our energy. I walked over to where Alex lay moaning quietly to himself. I forced open the boy's clenched fists and placed a large bowl of popcorn in his bound hands.

"If you move, or let any spill, we'll tickle you again."

Surrounding our living table, we ate and talked, and Seb even proudly showed us his newest ring. I would learn it never took much encouragement for that boy to take his pants off, and they did not go back on. He was adorable in just his long black T-shirt, sitting beside Alex with his slender legs folded beneath him, cruelly resting his cold can of soda between Alex' shoulders.

Alex jumped when Seb did that, and several pieces of popcorn left the shaking bowl.

"He spilled some, sir!" the eleven-year-old was quick to point out.

Youthful Michael, not so effected by the late hour, took the bowl away, grabbed his feather and tormented Alex with it for another half-hour, even rolling the boy onto his side and tickling his belly button. Alex had reached the point where he could almost sense an impending tickle. He flinched each time, before the feather even touched him, and sobbed miserably whenever he was given a brief moment to catch his breath.

Seb soon joined in, laughing joyously. A little boy's laugh. It was endearing to hear, and interesting to know it came at the anguish and misery of another boy not much older than he was.

Robert, Sam, and I simply sat back and watched, rather amazed at how quickly the two young slaves had formed a team and the sheer delight they both seemed to be taking in the torture of my Alex.

Finally, when Alex was showing the first signs of real distress, they both stopped. They gently rubbed the boy's aching shoulders. It was a touching scene, and I let it go for a few minutes.

"Leave him be," I finally told them.

Immediately they stood up. The bulge in Michael's jeans was obvious, and by the uncomfortable way Seb was prancing around, it was clear his little cock was trying its best to get hard.

"Show me, Seb," Sam Collins ordered.

The eleven-year-old lifted his shirt. Sure enough his little organ was swollen and straining against the ring that kept it down between his legs. With a warm smile, the doctor gestured the boy close.

"Hold still." And with great care he worked the ring free of the boy's scrotum. Seb sighed and moaned in delight as his penis instantly stood straight up, four cute little inches [10 cm] of boyflesh. Rare was the time, over the next several days, when Sebastian wasn't walking around proudly sporting an erection.

"No touching," Sam warned.

Sebastian nodded and threw his slender arms around his master's waist.

"I remember when you used to get hard like that, Michael," Robert said with a warm smile.

"I was never that young, sir," Mike replied, adjusting the hard cock in his pants.

"No, I suppose you weren't."

Over the years I've learned more and more about Michael, and how horrible his life had been before Robert took him in at age fifteen. He was not joking about never being as young as Sebastian, for his childhood had been filled with nothing but pain and abuse and hardship. 'This is the childhood I missed out on, right now,' he told me once during a private moment as he gazed at his master with loving eyes.

The two of them embraced, and Robert worked his hands inside Michael's jeans. "I haven't been taking enough care of this lately, Mike," he said softly. "I am sorry."

Care of course likely meant having it whipped or cruelly milked, anything but what most would call pleasure. Nevertheless Michael smiled and rested his head on Robert's shoulder.

I gazed down at Alex. He was lying still and quiet again, wiggling his fingers, which were beginning to take on a rather unhealthy shade. Kneeling down beside him, I kissed him on the head and finally removed Vincent's rose from his ass. I slowly untied his bonds.

"Take it slow, Alex," I told him once I had him freed.

He straightened his slender limbs carefully, and I rubbed his hands to get them warmed up again.

"Stand up."

Slowly he got to his feet, quickly to discover that having your soles beaten has certain long-term effects that are not entirely pleasant. He danced from foot to foot and his eyes watered. His front was bruised almost as terribly as his back. A full day of beatings and discipline had taken a certain toll to be sure. I untied the gag and tossed the wet cloth aside, drawing him forcefully into a close embrace. My boy winced and trembled and tried to pull himself away.

"He whipped you."

Alex hissed as I ran my hands over his shoulders and pressed them firmly into his latest bruises. "Yes, sir."

"Did you deserve it?"

"Yes, sir."

"You misbehaved?"

He nodded slowly, still shifting his weight from one foot to another.

"Tell me."

He looked me in the eyes for the first time. "I wouldn't suck his dick, sir."

"Why not?"

"I don't love him, sir."

That was a dagger meant for my heart, a sign I should have noticed, but it somehow missed, or, more truthfully, I simply allowed it to.

"And so he whipped you."

Again he nodded.

"And did you suck him then?"

Choking back a sob he nodded miserably that he had. Whipped into submission. Something he'd never endured before.

Kissing his neck I whispered in his ear. "Did he fuck you?"

Silence.

"I asked you a question, Alex. Did he fuck you?"

"Yes," he answered, quiet and ashamed.

"Did you enjoy it?"

"No."

I kissed him on the lips, forcing my tongue into his mouth. He pulled against me for a moment, then relaxed, and I felt the familiar light and playful touch of his own tongue dancing with mine. I pushed him away when I felt his cock hardening against my leg.

"Bring me your cuffs and harness. And your belt."

"Yes, sir."

Alex walked off with an uneven gait, favoring his left foot, which seemed to have gotten the worst of the cane. He would not even look at Michael. Cradling everything in his arms, he returned and lay his gear on the floor in front of him. I gestured to my companions. All four of us adults roughly took a slender limb and locked a cuff in place, clicking the padlocks simultaneously. As a further humiliation, we made Alex kneel in front of Sebastian, and we all watched as the younger boy put Alex back into his harness.

I put the belt on him myself. "You won't be needing these for a while," I said, giving his cock and balls a gentle squeeze before locking them in the metal pod once more.

"On your knees, Alex."

He obeyed, and the five of us quickly surrounded him. The realization that he was the only one who was naked struck him instantly. Even Sebastian was as fully dressed as he ever gets.

I gazed over at Michael. We had planned all along for him to start things off and give Alex a glimpse of what the next five days would hold for him. It was a big step for the young man, who had once been Alex himself. He was silent for a moment, staring down at this gentle clever boy he'd somehow managed to fall in love with. We waited, and finally Michael broke the silence. Alex would tell me years later, 'Mike became my master that day.' And it was true. None of us yet saw it, least of all Michael himself, but it was true.

"You are our slave for the next five days, Alex. You will obey any order any of us give you without question. You will be naked. You will be silent. You will be bound. You will be tortured. You will crawl everywhere you are told to go. There will be pain. There will be punishment. You will not sleep. Now, suck my cock."

Alex just stared in horrified shock at Michael whom he so dearly loved. For a moment he looked as if he were about to cry, but then he crawled forward on his hands and knees, opened the young man's jeans with shaking fingers, and took Michael into his mouth.

Chapter 29
Wide Awake

Alex was on his knees for several hours, servicing each of us in turn, and then doing it again. Even Sebastian got his little cock sucked, just once, for the first time in his young life, providing us with a chorus of high-pitched squeals and frantic grunts. Soon the little guy was fucking Alex' face with a look of fierce determination in his eyes. He didn't know what he was going for, but he knew there had to be something waiting for him at the end, and he was going to get it. Sam pulled the boys apart when he thought Sebastian was getting close. The boy was not permitted to have an orgasm. The doctor swiftly replaced Sebastian's throbbing little member with his own, forcing it down Alexander's throat.

I was the last to have my cock in his mouth. He could barely hold himself up, my hands behind his head the only thing keeping him on his knees. When I was finished, Alex collapsed on the floor and rolled onto his back, his eyes fluttering. Cum dribbled from his lips and glistened on his chest and stomach. I knelt down beside him and sat the boy up.

"Hold me," he whispered.

And I did. He turned his face away. I heard him sniffling softly.

"Are you crying?"

Alex quickly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "No."

"Honey, all you have to do is say one word. Just one."

"I can't."

"I know."

Michael and I were the first to stay up with him while the others went to bed. Sebastian actually kissed Alex good night, then with a huge yawn staggered off to Samuel's waiting arms. They both joined Robert in the bedroom and closed the door. It was a little after two in the morning, and I'd be up for another eight hours. Michael looked at me with tired eyes.

"Coffee, sir?" he asked quietly.

"Absolutely."

He smiled and went off to the little kitchen to get a pot brewing. I had Alex standing in the corner, his hands behind his back, his cute little behind on display for me, and took the solitary moment to examine the schedule Michael had created for the next five days. He had come up with some interesting pairings that would surely keep Alex on his toes, among other things. I confess I felt a little chill when I saw that Sam and Sebastian would be alone with him on the second day. Doctors do make the best torturers after all, and I wondered just what he might have in store for my boy when left to his own devices. It was Michael's role throughout the next five days that most caught my attention though. Bless his gentle heart, he'd arranged everything in such a way that he'd end up getting almost no sleep himself.

"This schedule isn't exactly fair to you, Mike," I said when he returned and handed me a steaming mug. "You're putting yourself under a lot of pressure."

Mike gently patted Alex on the rear end, and took of a sip from his own mug. "If we're going to do this, then I have to do it to. I want to know what he's feeling… and feel it with him."

I looked at him in wonder and he returned my gaze with silent understanding. It was fitting that he and I should be the ones to see Alex through his first hours. He and I would always be the ones to see Alex through. I nodded and smiled at him, and the handsome young man gently took Alexander's wrists and fastened the clasps on the boy's leather cuffs. I heard them click.

He kissed my boy on the back of his neck. "Don't move, Alex," he said. "Even just a finger, and we'll have to punish you."

Standing perfectly still for any length of time is a lot harder than most people realize. To this day Alex struggles with it. He struggled that night as well, shifting on his sore feet. Michael was about to take him over his knee, but I stopped him.

"He enjoys that sort of thing too much, Mike," I said. "What's a little pain to a masochist?"

The young man laughed. Alex was too exhausted to bother, but there was that knowing smirk on his lips.

"Push ups. Fifty of them," I ordered, knowing he hated them with a passion. "But let's make them a bit more interesting. Alex, go the armoire and bring me a pair of nipple clamps."

"Yes, sir."

Alex wobbled awkwardly away to carry out his assignment. I watched him, wondering what he might choose for himself. He stood in front of the open cabinet for some time and finally returned with the meanest-looking pair I'd ever seen. The shiny clamps ended in tiny little metal teeth. They were meant to bite into the skin. He stood tall and handed them to me. He was silent, but his eyes were screaming at me.

'I can take it. I'll show you. Go on, hurt me, you bastard!'

I didn't ask. Michael wisely put his hands on the boy's shoulders. I ran my hands up and down Alex' chest, twisting and pulling on his nipples. He moaned softly. I did it fast. Right, then left. Alex screamed and dropped to his knees. Michael went down with him, holding him tightly and caressing his trembling shoulders.

"That seemed to wake him up," he observed. It was something Robert would have said.

Alex was still screaming. "Take 'em off! Take 'em off, please! Oh, fuck!"

"They were your choice, baby," I said, stroking his hair. "Fifty push ups. Now. And twenty more for swearing."

Every single one of them was complete agony for the boy. He somehow managed forty-three of them before he fell over onto his side and curled up into a little ball, kicking his legs against the pain.

"You gotta take 'em off," he whimpered.

"Hold him down, Mike. Please."

"Yes, sir."

Alex looked up into Michael's eyes and grew calm. I helped him lay flat on his back, just the pain from that simple motion sending tears down his cheeks.

"Take a deep breath, honey. We'll do this real slow."

Alex sucked in the air as deeply as he could. Mike did the same. I slowly released the right clamp, allowing the blood to return. Letting out an anguished wail, Alex nearly left the floor.

"Ready for the other one?" I asked, after giving him a moment to recover.

The boy bit his lip and blinked his eyes once, then took another sharp breath. The second clamp came off with a piercing howl from Alex' throat and he slumped down again onto his back, panting wildly. Michael and I both leaned over him, and we each took a sore swollen nipple into our mouths. Alex screamed and writhed beneath us as his sensitive flesh was tormented yet further. I sucked him hard and bit down. Michael used a lighter be equally devastating touch. The contrast between the two was driving the poor kid crazy.

Alex begged us to stop, his voice squeaking through sobs and whimpers.

We kept going without mercy.

"Snail! Snail!" he cried, barely able to get the words out of his mouth.

Alex had never used his slow word before. I sat up and gently rubbed his chest. Michael followed. I knew it wasn't really the pain, but the flood of emotions brought on by the day's events that was overwhelming my gentle boy. Feelings he just did not want to deal with. Memories perhaps, I realized, he'd just as soon have forgotten.

Michael continued tenderly rubbing the boy's chest, circling his fingers around the boy's navel, as Alex slowly got control of himself again. I left them to refill my coffee.

"I like your slow word," Michael said. "It's cute. Did you think of it yourself?"

"Yes, sir," Alex replied, staring at him deeply.

Michael touched his hands to the boy's face and the two of them remained there, silent, motionless, Michael gently pinning Alex down, Alex not offering the slightest resistance.

I knew. I was already dimming the lights when Michael raised his eyes to me.

"May I…?" he whispered, unable to finish.

How could I deny them? I took the keys to Alex' belt and tossed them softly onto the rug beside them. Sitting up with trembling hands Alex unbuttoned Michael's shirt and buried himself in the young man's chest. Mike held him close for a time, then slowly stood and removed his jeans, Alex on his knees gazing up at him all the while with love and wonder in his young eyes. My boy then lay back with a soft moan and ran his hands over his belt, tugging at it for release.

"No, baby," Michael said, sliding the key just out of reach, and pressing himself down on top of his young love, "not yet."

I lit a few candles as they lay together on the soft rug, then stretched myself out on the sofa, my eyes half closed, watching the beautiful young lovers. They were of an age, Michael still young enough to be a boy when it suited him, Alex old enough to be a man. And they were beautiful, their lean and slender bodies entwined in the flickering golden light. Alex lay still at first, as Michael slowly moved his hands up and down the thirteen-year-old's trembling frame, his touch light but sure, at last forcing his tongue into the boy's mouth. Alex responded, returning Michael's affections with needful passion.

They explored one another gently, kissing and caressing. Michael reached for the keys, and slowly, even has he held him, released Alex from his belt. The boy sighed and shivered when Michael ran his fingers over his cock. It was as if the young man's touch was electric. Michael's subtle dominance, and Alex' willing submission were an arousing sight to witness. He pressed himself firmly against the boy once more, letting Alex feel his weight, taking the boy's breath away just for an instant. And then I heard Michael in his softest voice.

"Roll over, baby."

"Yeah," Alex whispered.

Their coupling was so natural, so perfect. Michael was slow and gentle, pausing often to kiss Alex on the back of his neck or nibble sweetly on his ear. They whispered to one another throughout. I was not close enough to hear their words, but I could hear Alex' soft moans and quiet whimpers as Michael took him. There was an undeniable beauty to their soft rhythm, to their deep breathing, to the sounds of their lovemaking.

"Harder," I heard Alex cry out, his voice high and strained, swept away by emotion.

Michael obliged, forcing himself into the boy with all his youthful strength. Alex shouted, then calmed instantly as Michael continued with long hard thrusts. The young man pulled out for an instant and smacked the boy's thighs, already red and bruised from Vincent's less than loving hands.

"Aaaahhh."

"You like that, boy." It was a statement of fact, not a question.

"Yes, sir."

Michael's hands rained down again, harder this time. Then he stopped, and entered the boy again with a single deep thrust.

Alex cried and sobbed, then whispered three words I knew he'd one day say to someone else. Someone who wasn't his brother. Someone special. Someone for whom the words meant a great deal more. "I love you."

Michael came at that very moment, filling the boy with his seed. He lowered himself gently, stroking Alex' hair soaked with sweat, wiping the tears from the boy's eyes with loving hands, his softening cock still buried inside.

"Did you cum?" Michael asked.

"No, sir."

"Good boy."

They lay together for the longest time, as the candles

flickered around them. Sitting there, watching, I felt such love in my heart for both of them, two tortured souls who'd found one another.

I left the sofa and stood near them.

"May I… ?" I asked, repeating Michael's earlier request for permission.

The boys, the young men I should say, smiled up at me, and I laid down beside them. Alex' hazel eyes flashed with guilt when I gazed upon them. I touched my hand to his cheek, and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"Don't feel guilty, Alex. This was meant to happen. Never feel guilty about loving someone. Ever."

"Thanks."

We lay there with Alex snuggling between us until the sky started to turn purple with the promise of a new day. We did let him doze a bit, just a few short minutes at a time before waking him. It was so strange. We were being so cruel, not letting the boy sleep, and yet it felt so warm and comfortable, the three of us there together simply enjoying one another's touch.

"The guys will be awake soon," I said. "We should get him cleaned up."

Michael agreed, and with a firm hand under each arm, we forced Alex to his feet and removed his leather. He leaned against me as I took off his collar.

"Please let me sleep," he whispered.

"Not yet, Lexi. Now move."

Together Mike and I dragged the tired boy to the bathroom. I told him to strip me. He was slow and awkward, stumbling around with none of his trademark grace.

"Into the tub," I said, giving his young balls a little squeeze.

Poor boy must have turned too quickly. I was just able to catch him as he staggered. Alex wiggled his way free of my supportive grip. Just a little annoyed, as thirteen-year- olds tend to get. He stood in the tub and stared at us blankly behind drooping eyelids.

"On your knees."

He knelt, his hands behind his back.

"Do you have to piss?" I asked.

Alex nodded that he did.

"Then do it."

Michael and I watched as the boy urinated on himself, the yellow stream running down his legs and pooling at his knees, slowly finding its way in tiny rivers toward the drain. The smell was strong. We joined him in the tub. Michael forced him to look at us, holding a hand under his chin. Alex knew what was coming and he closed his eyes tightly.

"Open your eyes, Lexi," I said sternly.

He refused.

"You'll be punished for that," Michael said softly.

Alex' hazel eyes were gazing at us a moment later, begging us not to.

But we did. We pissed all over him. His shoulders, his neck, his chest, his cock and balls. Alex was shaking. Mike and I both had enough left, and somehow we both knew where we wanted it to go. We forced ourselves to stop, only temporarily.

"Open your mouth."

Alex shook his head.

Michael grabbed a handful of what little hair the boy had.

"Your master gave you an order, Alex," he said with quiet menace. He was sounding more and more like Robert all the time.

Alex slowly opened his mouth. Terror swept across his sweet face.

"You don't have to swallow," I told him. "Just let it run."

And that it did. It filled his mouth quickly and fell from the corners, finally rolling in a cascade over his lower lip. He was close to tears when we'd finally drained ourselves. Then we presented our cocks to him, soft for the moment, and shoved them into his mouth. Alex gagged and tried to pull away. We held him there, both of us with a firm hand on his shoulders.

I could see my boy was struggling. Fatigue and fear and humiliation all assaulting him at once.

"Relax, honey. Just keep your mouth open. Try to use your tongue if you can."

His eyes seemed to focus after that, and his breathing calmed when he realized we simply wanted our cocks in his mouth for a while. Soon I did feel his tongue timidly brushing against it, gradually making me hard. I could feel Michael's cock swelling as well. Alex moaned and continued to gag from time to time, but the fear in his eyes was gone, replaced by that look of pure and total submission I'd come to know so well. He tried his best to suck us, but two dicks at once is difficult for anyone, and in spite of his efforts to prove otherwise, he was still a boy.

I pulled out first. Michael, having been denied such pleasure for so long, reluctantly followed. Alex looked up at us from his knees. He was soaked with piss and sweat and covered in dried cum, quite a bit of it his own. He was filthy, the dirt and grime from the hunt darkening his golden-tanned skin. His eyes lit up in gratitude when he saw me reach for the shower nozzle. I smiled at him, turning on the cold water and hitting him full blast.

Alex shrieked and tried to slide away from us.

"Keep still!" I shouted as I aimed the nozzle at his face.

He sputtered and shivered and smacked his hands against the tub in protest. Finally he figured out it wouldn't stop until he behaved, and so with enormous effort, fighting his body's natural instincts, he held himself still and endured this newest torture.

"I think he's clean enough, don't you, Michael?"

"Maybe a few more minutes, sir," the young man said.

The daggers Alex shot at him in that moment were priceless.

"Don't look at him that way," I said, blasting cold water into his face once more.

I saw Alex make a fist, and for a moment I thought… but he didn't. He just lowered his eyes and continued to shiver miserably.

Michael warmed up the water at my instruction and the two of us soaped each other up, leaving a cold and wet Alex on his knees behind us. I'd seen Michael naked since he was fifteen years old, I'd quite literally watched him grow into the young man he is, but until now we'd never really touched or been this close, not in this way. He stroked my cock gently as he rinsed the soap off my shoulders. I did the same for him, feeling his pleasant beautifully shaped organ twitch and rise at my touch.

"How long had it been?" I asked.

"Almost three months, sir," he replied as he reached his full five inches [12½ cm]. Smaller than my Alex, but every bit as perfect, and every bit as hard. He gazed back at the young slave as though he was looking through a mirror in time. The boy hung his head in complete exhaustion. "Alex is the first person I ever…"

I smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "I know. Alex," I called, holding out my hand. "Come on and get warm, sweetheart."

He crawled over to us, and together we raised him to his feet. He shivered as we held him and soaped his smooth silken skin front and back, rinsing him slowly, massaging his aching muscles. With the dirt washed away, I could see the livid welts and deep bruises the last twenty-four hours had inflicted. He didn't say a word as Mike and I held him between us and examined his beaten and battered frame, but his hazel eyes spoke volumes.

Alex was tired.

Chapter 30
Inside Out

I rested my feet on Alexander's back. The boy was on his hands and knees before me. Fresh and clean, collared and harnessed, beautiful in his leather. It was six in the morning. The sun was rising, already beginning to lose some of its summertime intensity. Michael opened the windows, allowing the cool breeze to blow in. Even the smell of autumn was in the air. Alex shivered and I could see the little boyish hairs on his arms standing up against the cold as he struggled to keep himself in position.

For the last hour, Alex had been our footstool. Michael and I took turns with him as we watched the early morning news. Michael had fixed a large bowl of cereal for himself and used the boy's back as a table, setting the bowl along his spine, and putting his bagel, hot from the toaster oven, between Alex' shoulders. Alex hissed a bit when he felt the heat, but Michael was exceedingly careful.

"You don't really think I'd burn you, do you, Alex?" he asked, leaning forward.

Alex shook his head. "No, Mike… sir."

When he was finished, the handsome young man took a moist towel and cleaned the boy off for my use. I tugged on Alex' leash and he crawled toward me, slowly, his eyes down, as they had been since we'd begun. I would forgo breakfast until later, but I enjoyed the feel of his firm sturdy back, covered in taut soft silken skin against my feet. Occasionally I'd work my left foot down along the crack of his ass. He wasn't plugged, and every time a toe found his little hole, he'd jump and sigh.

"Keep still."

"Yes, master."

Michael returned with another bowl and sat down beside me. I gazed over and saw it was honey, warm from the looks of it. He dipped his index finger in and swirled it around.

"Want some breakfast, Alex?" he asked quietly.

Alex nodded that he did, and obediently opened his mouth to accept Michael's finger.

"Clean it off, boy, and I'll give you some more."

Alex licked and suckled, and Michael again dipped into the bowl. This time offering two fingers, which the boy greedily took. He was moaning softly now and wiggling his hips, always his sign, when the chastity belt was around his waist, that he was getting turned on.

"Horny, kiddo?" Michael asked, half-sweetly, half taunting him.

Alex would have no doubt given me a smart-ass response. That's what little brothers do. His answer to Michael however was merely a humble nod of his head and a soft desperate whimper. Mike traced his finger around the boy's ear, tugging gently on its lobe. Alex gasped at the soft and delicate touch. I'd seen him do this to Alex before, and always with the same results. Mike's touch was the exact opposite of pain, yet it seemed to have the same effect.

The boy's arms began to tremble beneath me, and his breathing quickened. Mike continued, running his fingers across Alexander's forehead, gently stroking the boy's cheek, pressing them against the boy's lips.

"I think we'll keep you that way."

Alex groaned in frustration and turned his head away from us. I lowered my feet from off his back. He made a little sigh of relief and started to stretch his tired muscles.

"Alex, stay!" I shouted, smacking him hard on the ass. The boy was still instantly.

The sun was warming the morning air when Robert appeared from the bedroom with a bemused grin on his face. Michael immediately left the sofa to pour his master a cup of coffee. He'd kept it fresh and brewing for us all night. Robert followed him over and embraced him, his large powerful frame engulfing the slender young man. I heard Michael moan softly as Robert worked his hands into the boy's jeans.

"You fucked him, didn't you?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, master."

Robert kissed him on the back of his neck and poured his own coffee. It was a subtle gesture, one that I could tell left the eighteen-year-old rather shaken and unsure. Robert walked toward me, still smiling.

"Where are our two English friends?" I asked, observing that the door to the bedroom had been closed.

Robert laughed. "Seems young Sebastian was rather horny this morning. First time I've ever been awakened by an eleven-year-old humping my leg."

"Did he have an orgasm?" I asked, unable to contain my own smile at the image of that beautiful redheaded boy rutting like a horny little rabbit.

"Possibly. Hard to tell when they can't cum yet. He was certainly enjoying himself. Samuel is disciplining the boy now. They won't be long."

As if on cue, I heard the first high-pitched agonized shriek echo from behind the door. It was followed by many others over the next fifteen minutes. An interesting background chorus as Robert and I chatted idly about this and that. Finally, the bearded master gazed down and acknowledged Alex, giving the boy a firm kick in the rear. Alex lost his balance and scrambled forward for a moment before putting himself back on all fours.

I pulled on the boy's leash. "Sit."

Alex crawled around and got himself into position, squatting with his knees spread and his hands flat on the floor. He looked up just as I was handing his leash to Robert.

"Good morning, Alexander," Robert said in a playful tone. "Did you have a pleasant evening?"

"Not exactly, sir," he answered. The fatigue in his voice was obvious. "Some of it was ok, I guess."

"You guess? Well, Doctor Collins and I will make sure you have a memorable time today." Robert's laughter made Alex shiver, or perhaps it was the pathetic wail that came from the bedroom, shrill and piercing, the sound of a little boy in unbearable pain.

"What's he doing to him?" I asked, resting my eyes on the closed door.

"You really don't want to know," Robert replied. "Let's just say Sam is quite skilled with needles, and he knows every nerve in the boy's body. I'm sure Alex will be able to tell you how it feels before the end of the day."

I heard my boy whisper something under his breath, but when I asked him, he would not repeat it.

Sam came out a moment later, with Sebastian staggering along awkwardly beside him but doing his best not to let on. Shorts and shirt again, all black, the only colors I've ever seen him wear, when he's wearing anything at all. He looked at us, clearly embarrassed that we'd all heard him screaming. He muttered a quiet apology to Robert for his shameful behavior then toddled over to the coffeepot, poured himself a full mug, and drank it down black in single gulp.

"Weird little kid," I heard Alex whisper. I patted him on the head and ran my hand slowly along the gentle curve of his back.

Robert and Sam huddled for a moment, speaking privately, often looking in the boy's direction. Sebastian shifted anxiously from foot to foot, once or twice rubbing between his legs when his master wasn't looking.

"What are they gonna do to me?" Alex asked, still squatting at my feet.

"I don't know, Lexi. But Robert would never really hurt you."

"I know."

Silence.

"Doctor Collins scares the shit outta me," his voice was small and nervous.

I smiled and squeezed his shoulder. "And Sebastian?"

"He's even scarier."

"Stick close to Robert then. Remember, just one word, and it all stops. That's all you have to do."

His hazel eyes were dancing with conflicting emotions when he turned his head to look at me. "Do you want me to say it?"

I couldn't answer him.

"Is that why you're making me do this?" There was just a little edge to his sweet voice, just a hint of anger and betrayal.

"I'm making you do this because you're a slave," I replied. "Does that answer your questions?"

"Yes."

Robert and Sam approached him. I gave him a little nudge with my foot, and Alex got to his feet to face them, his hands clenched to fists, always his first line of defense against the fear that was slowly consuming him. Robert held a harness for the boy's head, complete with gag. I watched in silence as he put it on. A large leather strap went around Alex' forehead, another under his chin, with thinner straps around his ears. When everything was buckled in place, Robert gagged him in a swift rough motion, pulling the boy's hair and forcing his head back.

The slender boy was nearly overpowered by Robert's great size and strength. The straps of the gag were fed through loops in the harness, making it all one piece. It was a frightful looking thing, but designed for long-term wear. Robert checked everything to make sure it was tight, and then more padlocks were attached. The kid had more of them locked on his body now than he had fingers with which to count them. Robert turned him around to face me.

Tears moistened the boy's eyes, but he stood there bravely. He was amazing, a strong boy of thirteen, smooth and hairless, still a child in so many ways, but a young man as well, bound in leather from his ankles to his head and everywhere in between. My special boy. My wonderful Alex.

"You look great, Lexi," I said, moved by the sight of him.

Leather usually turned him on even more than it did me, but frayed and exhausted as he was, Alex mostly just seemed indifferent to it. Our eyes met, but it was that blank stare I'd come to know very well in these last few days, and with it that uncomfortable feeling in my stomach. Robert pulled on the leash and spun the boy around. Harsh and demanding. Sam then stepped in, a blindfold in one hand and a look of cold, calculated menace etched across his face. Alex instinctively stepped back and started shaking his head.

"Alex!" Robert shouted, yanking hard on the chain attached to the boy's collar.

It only made the reaction worse. Alex shouted into his gag. He pulled away even harder and actually grabbed the chain with his own hands, tearing it from Robert's grasp.

Michael and I were on our feet instantly. Alex bolted toward the bedroom. Robert and Sam called after him, in surprised and suddenly gentle voices, but Alex was beyond listening. Mike and I chased him down before he could close and no doubt lock the door. I managed to get my hands around him. He writhed and struggled. I was amazed at just how strong he was getting, how much weight he could put into a fight now. I pressed him against the doorframe and held him there. He growled something into his gag, likely the worst curse his thirteen-year-old vocabulary could muster. Then he kicked his feet at me.

"Alex, calm down! Calm down."

I shook him gently, and he looked up at me with wild terrified eyes. Eyes I'd not been there to see when he was five. Eyes that still haunt me to this day. I hugged him tightly as he trembled in my arms.

"You can't have it both ways, Alex," I said.

He whimpered and tried again to get away from me. I just held him. Michael stood by and took his hand, squeezing it firmly. Then Alex closed his eyes, and I felt his body relax. Finally he gave up. And that was it. I let him go. Without giving me a second glance he turned and walked with slumped shoulders toward Robert, then handed him the leash. The boy stood still and silent and let Samuel blindfold him. Gentle pressure on his shoulders told him to get on all fours, and he did, without the slightest resistance.

He would spend his next eight hours blind and gagged and crawling like an animal amongst the other masters and their slaves.

Michael put his arms around me as we watched Alex being led off, his leash held firmly in Robert's hands. Samuel had a riding crop, which was already raining down on the boy's backside before they left the room. Ample incentive for Alex to keep his tired arms and legs moving. Sebastian skipped along merrily behind, pleased I suppose, that for once it was not happening to him.

"Are you tired, sir?" Michael asked me in his gentle, youthful voice.

"Yes, Mike, I am."

I awoke several hours later with Michael lying naked beside me. Robert had told me I could do whatever I pleased with him, but what pleased me was simply lying there, admiring his handsome body, and talking to this sweet and intelligent young man. I remembered myself at eighteen, and was ashamed at the obvious comparison. I was selfish, belligerent, high half the time, and thinking of nothing but myself. Michael was caring, giving, and proud. Even in his humility and submission, he was proud. Michael never would have given Alex away as I had done.

His hand touched my face, and his blue eyes smiled at me, softly. He knew my deepest thoughts. The guilt I'd harbored for years, the voiceless accusation he'd so often read in Alexander's eyes. "He has to work this out on his own, sir," he said. "You can't do anything else for him until he does."

"I'm worried about him," I replied.

"Me too."

"He turns all his emotions inside out, until he twists them into a little knot. He always has, ever since I got him back. He's wounded, Mike, and he seems to like it that way."

Michael shook his head. "He doesn't. He hates it. He just doesn't know what to do about it. And he can't bring himself to tell you how he feels."

"I know how he feels. I know what he wants to tell me. I just wish he could."

"He's afraid he'll lose you if he does. He already lost you once."

That hurt. But it was true.

"I think bringing him here was a mistake," I said.

Michael's hand found my own, and his expression was one of great emotion. "No. You're wrong, sir. Alex has to learn what it's all about, see it and feel it for himself. This is part of what it means to be a slave. You were right when you told him he can't have it both ways. He can't." He rolled onto his back and gazed up thoughtfully at the ceiling. "I mean, if being a slave were that easy, everyone would do it."

"How was it for you?" I asked.

"Hard, sir, very hard," Mike confessed. It was a truth I'd always suspected. "It still is sometimes. Master Robert can be very demanding… and very cruel. He didn't care that I was only fifteen. I could stay and be his slave and do whatever I was told, or he'd send me back to the streets. That was it. There was never anything in between. I've had to learn to do things that just come naturally for Alex. He's already a better slave than I'll ever be."

"He worships you."

"I've noticed." He laughed softly and his expression grew thoughtful. "At first I just thought he was a cute little kid."

"And too young, if I recall," remembering his words from two months ago, and his honorable hesitance to punish Alex for not following Robert's instructions.

The young man smiled sardonically. "You have no idea how badly I was beaten that night."

"I'm sorry. Your master has a heavy hand. I should know."

Michael sat up. His cock was hard, but not once did his hand stray over it. "It was worth it. For Alex it was worth all that pain. It's his eyes, they just capture you, and they never let you go. He's so beautiful. He haunts me, sir. I fall asleep thinking of him, every night since we met. I thought I knew who I was, but he's changing everything. I imagine taking him in my arms. Roughly. I imagine myself tying him up and…" he stopped, his emotions getting the better of him. He rolled over onto his stomach and closed his eyes tightly. "He's strong, but so gentle. So loving. What we did this morning… I never thought… "

"You were both beautiful," I said, rubbing his back. "It was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen."

"I don't deserve him."

"I don't either. But just tell me one thing, Michael. Do you love him?"

"Very much."

"Then, when you think you're ready…"

"It would be an honor, sir."

We fell asleep once again as early afternoon wore on.

When the clock woke us, the day had turned warm. From the open window I could hear the sounds of the world outside. And the crack of the whips and screams of the slaves being tormented below us. I listened carefully, trying to hear if I could pick out Alex' voice from the chorus of suffering. For eight hours I'd slept while my boy was in the hands of others. I wondered how he was doing, what he was feeling. All I knew for certain was that he was very likely in pain, and desperate for sleep.

Michael stirred and moaned beside me.

"Damn, I'm so hard," he said as he stretched his lean and slender limbs. I pulled the covers back and verified his current turgid state of affairs. "Sometimes it's easier in the belt," he observed with wry humor.

"Alex says the same thing." I straddled him and smiled. "Don't tell Robert. He'd say this was unmasterly of me." I sucked him, fast and furious. Michael writhed and groaned. I squeezed his balls. Hard. His voice raised 'til he sounded more like Alex. Of course Alex had enough dick between his legs to choke a man twice his size. Michael was somewhat more in proportion. With a sharp gasp and a loud shout he came, his underused balls sending forth a flood of salty fluid. He collapsed panting on the bed, then laughed softly.

"I fuck one brother and get sucked by the other. All in one day. What a family."

"A good boy deserves to be rewarded once in a while."

"I never said I was good."

"I'll be sure to tell Robert you said that."

Michael gave me a look of mock fright, and I playfully shoved him out of bed and followed him into the bathroom. We showered together. He dried me without being asked or told. Force of habit, he explained. Robert and Sam had still not returned with the boys, so we decided to take a walk. I dressed. Michael did not. He just stood there naked, his jeans and shirt from yesterday crumpled at his feet. He looked lost and awkward, and suddenly very young.

"What's the problem, kid?" I asked.

He smiled at me nervously. "I don't think my master would approve of me wearing so much clothing outside."

"I see."

"I'm mostly naked for this kind of thing."

I studied him for a moment. He was a handsome young man, gorgeous in fact. I certainly would not have minded having him walking naked beside me. At the moment all he had on was his collar.

"Well, I guess I'm in charge of you until Robert takes you back. I'll tell you what to wear, and if he doesn't like it, he can take it up with me. Fair?"

Michael smiled and nodded.

"Get your jeans on, and see if there's a harness in the armoire that fits you. No shoes today."

"Yes, sir."

I was finishing in the bathroom when he came in, a nice harness unbuckled over his angular shoulders.

"I could use some help."

My smile brought out his own. "You're just like a little kid," I said as I strapped him in tight.

"Sometimes. Whenever I get the chance."

"Not too often, I'll bet."

Michael shook his head then combed out his short blond hair. "Master Robert expects a lot from me. But I don't mind. No one ever expected anything from me before, or thought I was worth anything." He paused and studied himself in the mirror. I thought I saw his blue eyes water, just for a moment, but then it was gone.

I caressed his behind and gave it a little pat. "Going to college this fall?" I asked him.

"Sure am. I'll still live at home though. Robert wouldn't know what to do without me. He'd probably starve to death, or die of boredom."

"It's going to be hard for him, when you and Alex…" It was going to be hard for me too, and I couldn't say it.

"I know. But we're both boys. You have to let us become men."

"We will."

With Michael always half-a-step behind me, we made our way downstairs. The equipment was in use, the carriage house was crowded, but Alex wasn't there. Bartholomew acknowledged us briefly before returning his attentions to the poor young slave strung up before him. His trim muscular body already marked by the experienced sadist's masterful touch. A brazier was smoking ominously nearby, the iron already glowing red hot.

Just as we left, we heard the young man's mournful scream. Michael's pace quickened, carrying him as far away from that terrible sound as he could get. I had to hurry to catch up. I put my hand on his shoulder to slow him down.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said softly as he resumed his place behind me. His blue eyes flashed in anger. "Branding is just cruel. There's no reason for it. None at all. If anyone ever did that to me… "

I had to agree. "Come on. Let's find Alex."

Find him we did. In the main house. His screams could be heard above everything else, and we followed them to the same room where I had witnessed Samuel Collins' earlier demonstration. An enormous crowd had gathered. I stood at the door in shock. My Alex, my sweet gentle Alex was Sam's latest experiment in pain.

Alex appeared to be standing, with his arms and legs spread wide and tied to the supports of a heavy bondage frame, but his feet were off the ground. The strain of being suspended this way would have been nearly unbearable for a fully-grown man with all his strength. I could only imagine what it was doing to a thirteen-year-old boy. But it was not the principal cause of his distress.

Needles.

Small silvery needles.

Samuel was just inserting the latest one into the boy's foot when I approached. Alex shrieked and thrashed his head from side to side.

"No more…" he sobbed, his words tumbling out almost incoherently. "I can't take another one." Then a soft and desperate and breathless plea as his head dropped to his chest. "Please stop…"

I could not believe my eyes. From head to toe his young body was covered with them, piercing his smooth flesh. They had removed his belt, and even the boy's penis had not escaped the doctor's less than humane ministrations. Alex was half-hard and dripping, and his five-inch [12½ cm] cock glinted with the tiny metal needles embedded in its skin.

Robert came round to meet us, stopping first to hand Sebastian the large dildo he'd just pulled from Alex' ass. The little redhead immediately took over, and with a wicked gleam in his mischievous green eyes he forced it back in. Alex moaned and cried out as his torment continued.

I was furious. I'd trusted them with the person who means more to me than I can say. My brother, my lover, my Alex. He's all those things and more to me. How could they do this to him? Robert's expression told me he knew what I was feeling. His eyes were soft, as were his words, when he put his hand on my shoulder.

"Alex asked for this himself."

I should not have been surprised. I stared at Alex as yet another needle pierced his flesh, just above his right knee. This time a quiet sob was all he managed. The boy's need for pain was every bit as compelling as my own addictions had been. We are so much alike, in so many ways.

"Accupuncture?" I asked, for it was the only familiar reference that came to mind.

"The basis of Sam's technique, yes," Robert replied in his off-hand manner. "The needles are of varied widths, and thicker to a microscopic degree. The boy actually found it quite pleasant at first. He was rather disappointed."

I had to share Robert's smile. I could almost hear Alex now. 'Is that it? Can't you do better than that?'

I would later learn those had in fact been his words, just about exactly. Alex has a habit of daring those who have the power to hurt him. He has never admitted to doing it intentionally, but the results were on display for all to see that afternoon.

"How many needles?" I asked as Sam was preparing another for insertion.

"Ask Alex," Robert said. "It's his job to count them."

Standing in front of him, I could see tears streaking down his cheeks. His eyes were sunken from the lack of sleep. He was panting, occasionally taking in a sharp breath. There were needles everywhere, all of lengths appropriate for their placement in his body. He had them in his fingers, his hands, his arms, his nipples, his navel, his cock, his feet, and his toes. Several pierced the soft tissues of his face. His back, when I peered round, was covered with them.

"How many?" I asked, raising his head and looking him in the eye.

"Fif… fifty… fifty-eight, sir," he stammered.

"Tell him how many you've got in your cock, boy," Sam said as he inserted another into Alex' left nipple, joining three others already there.

"Thirteen, sir." He gritted his teeth and hissed, then let out a quiet moan.

"One for every year he's been alive." He held up another needle. "Last one, boy. Where should I put it?"

Alex shook his head slowly, weakly.

"Tell me, or it goes through one of your balls."

"My dick," came his hoarse response.

"One to grow on, ay. Not that you need it."

Samuel pulled the boy's cock, gently but firmly, stretching it. It began to harden almost instantly. "You see," he said with nonchalance, as if he were giving a medical lecture, "the key is to find the nerves, not the blood vessels. If I've done it right, and I have, he won't spill a single drop of blood when I take them out."

"Bastard," I heard Alex whisper.

"I'll ask you to keep your opinion of my parentage to yourself, boy," Collins said as he pushed the final needle through the soft skin of the thirteen-year-old's penis. "There. Now I'd say you need a good fuck."

And I was just the one to do it. I walked round behind him and tenderly pushed Sebastian aside. He obediently held out his hands to receive the dildo as I slid it out of my boy's rectum, eliciting another deep and lustful moan from Alex. I spread those firm beautiful globes of boyflesh and inspected my boy's hole. He was worn inside and out. It was dark, red and purple and swollen, ravaged from rough and merciless use.

"This is going to hurt, sweetheart," I whispered into his ear. Then, careful not to disturb any of the needles in his back, I entered him, in a swift single thrust. Alex choked and cried, his voice suddenly shrill and high. He hung there limp and exhausted, and I used him without pity. Samuel Collins began removing the needles, even as I fucked the boy. Alex was screaming, discovering that their exit was just as jarring as their entrance.

His screams were all I needed to hear. I was exceedingly brutal, and I came with one last violent thrust, filling him with my seed. Normally I stayed inside him for awhile afterward, a feeling of intimacy he loved and craved. This time I pulled out, leaving him cold and empty. Sam took my place and plucked the remaining needles, placing them all in a large bin, which was swimming with foul-smelling fluid.

"Seb, please bring the disinfectant."

Little Sebastian scurried over to the nearby table and returned with a large jug of surgical wipes. Sam snapped on a pair of gloves and proceeded to wipe Alex down. The alcohol against his bruised and battered skin had a cooling and numbing effect, and the boy sighed in relief. His eyes fluttered and closed. None of us stepped in to wake him. Samuel finished with ordinary soap and water. Only then did he gently smack the boy's face to bring him around.

"Wake up, Alex," was all he said.

Alex opened his eyes and stared at us, a look of hopeless dejection written upon his face.

"Let's get him down," Robert advised. "We'll soon miss the auction if we're not careful. Don't want the boys to miss that."

If Michael and I had not been there to hold him, Alex would have crumpled onto the floor the instant the ropes were loosened. As it was, he barely had the strength left to stand. Samuel naturally had a solution for us. We sat Alex down in the examination chair, the same one used for Sebastian's latest piercing, and strapped him in tight.

Sam hooked up an intravenous solution for him.

"One more needle, lad," he said in a gentle, kindly tone as he found the vein in Alex' right arm and taped everything in place. "Be still. You may rest for a while, but you may not fall asleep. Sebastian, see that he stays awake."

"Yes, master."

While Alex was slowly regaining his strength, we carefully packed everything away. Joshua and Thomas came in as if on cue to help return everything to Samuel's luxuriant Land Rover. I saw angry stripes and painful cuts on young Josh's backside, and also noticed the boy's sparse dusting of pubic hair had been shaven, leaving him perfectly smooth and hairless. I knew Wim's promised punishment had been delivered. The boy stopped in front of me. His eyes were still red.

"I'm sorry for speaking out of turn, sir," he said, his voice shaken and childlike. "My father asks your forgiveness for my misbehavior, and so do I."

I reached down and fondled his nice meaty fourteen-year-old prick. Josh sighed. I removed my hand just as the boy was getting hard. "Apology accepted. Now get moving."

Not quite trusting Sebastian to be left alone, I asked Robert if Michael could stay while we loaded up. He winked knowingly and we departed. Josh was clearly in a great deal of pain as he struggled with cartons much to heavy for his young teenaged muscles. Thomas had a wonderful smirk on his face, apparently enjoying every moment of the smaller boy's ongoing punishment.

When we returned to the drawing room, it was actually Sebastian who was sound asleep on the floor. Alex was groggy but awake and on his feet, his arm still attached to the IV pole. Michael was holding him gently and rubbing his shoulders.

"You've got to move, honey," Michael said in his tender way, trying to coax the boy to stretch his sore and aching limbs.

Alex gave it a half-hearted effort. "There. Happy now?" he asked.

Michael did not spank him for being insolent or offer any physical discipline at all. He simply smiled knowingly. "You'll wish you'd listened to me later. Don't expect a second chance."

Robert returned the boy's leash to me and I clasped it in place. Samuel carefully removed the needle and wrapped the boy's arm where it had gone in.

"That should keep him up and running for another twelve hours at least," he observed as he packed the last remaining supplies. "I'll take this out and meet you at the pavilion. Look after Seb for me, will you?"

Robert took the eleven-year-old firmly in hand. Together, with Alex once more crawling on his hands and knees, we adjourned to the gardens to await the auction, the promised climax of this most unusual gathering.

It was a strange ending, the only element of the affair that seemed somehow surreal and fantastical. I suppose it was because it was the only event that was not entirely real. Slaves were of course changing hands, or being delivered back to their masters after months of training, but it was all pre-arranged. It was also being filmed, which only added to the sense that this was mere entertainment.

Not that it wasn't an amazing scene. There were seven slaves in all, though I was told in years past the number could be much higher or lower. All of them were naked, with iron collars around their necks, their wrists and ankles in manacles. Numbers had been painted onto their chests which had a meaning lost on me. Two of them were just boys, one no more than ten years old. He was a slender wisp of a lad with blond hair, so fair it was almost white. Number seventy-three. I'd not seen him even once until now. Vincent happened to be standing next to me, giving Alex the shakes, and I asked him about the littlest slave. He explained that the youngster was very new, too tender and fragile yet to witness all that was going on. He'd been kept in a cage the entire time, sequestered away from the pain and suffering of his fellow slaves.

Vince did not know his name, only that he was the nephew or cousin or some relation to one of the more experienced masters here. Bartholomew took the stage and dragged the first slave forward, cracking the whip across his back, and the mock competition for his ownership began. All of them, even the little ten-year-old, were soon hard, basking in all the attention, and Bartholomew's rough handling. More than a few of us in the crowd were having the same reaction. For all its camp and almost Romanesque excess, it was a fun and memorable moment, but not everyone saw it as I did.

Alex nudged me with his shoulder. I looked down to see him distraught and close to tears.

"How can they do that to someone?" he asked in a soft wounded voice.

Gently I raised him to his feet. "Honey, it's all for show. No one's really being sold."

"I don't care. It's wrong."

I held him close, unprepared for how deeply this harmless charade was affecting him, for how scared and angry he was in that moment. He was shaking, almost uncontrollably. He gazed up at me with tear filled eyes, and he was five again. I finally began to understand.

"You wouldn't ever…" he choked back a sob.

Knowing he'd had enough, I quietly led him away. We walked alone through the empty gardens as the auction continued in the bright and noisy pavilion. Alex didn't say a single word. Often he staggered on his unsure legs and pressed his weight against me. I gripped his arm tightly and he begged me not to let him go. The dark shadows under his eyes were a pitiable sight. His hands were trembling involuntarily and he couldn't stop them no matter how he tried. Often he'd turn his head sharply this way or that, as if he'd heard voices calling behind him, looking over his shoulder as if someone were chasing on his heels.

Paranoia. Collins had told me to expect it sooner or later.

I heard my own voice just then. He's just a boy. Stop this right now before it goes too far. I didn't listen.

Chapter 31
Broken Ends

We all agreed we'd take Alex home for the remaining three days of his ordeal. And yes I had started using that word to describe what he was going through. Guilt gnawed at me as I sat beside Robert during the long drive back. Alex was in the cage again, Michael riding with him to ensure he remained awake, as if Robert's talent for finding potholes was not enough to accomplish the feat.

I was troubled, and there was that uneasy feeling again, as if all of this had slipped beyond my control. It seemed every time I had offered Alex a way out, he had gone out of his way to do something to cause himself even more pain and distress. Every chance I gave him was thrown back in my face. I began to realize that he was torturing me, every bit as much as he himself was being tortured. He wanted me to see him suffering at someone else's hands.

He hated me right now, and to be honest, part of me hated him right back. I turned my head and parted the curtain. Michael was kneeling beside the cage, his hand through the bars. He smacked Alex across the face several times, hard enough that I could hear it over the noise from the road. When he stopped, Alex crawled forward as far as his confinement would allow and pressed his head against the iron bars of his prison. Michael stroked the boy's hair. Alex raised his eyes for just a moment and darted them away quickly when he saw that I was looking.

"He's not doing this just to hurt you, Steven," Robert said beside me, and his tone was suddenly serious and filled with concern. "But I believe he is doing it for the wrong reasons. It isn't about pain anymore, or even being a slave, not for him. He should have used his safeword by now. It bothers me that he hasn't."

"He says he can't."

Robert sighed and stared off into the distance as the quiet back road wound before us. "That bothers me even more."

"What am I supposed to do?" I asked.

"Exactly what you've been doing. Don't give up on him now, and don't give in. He needs your strength. But be ready. He's breaking. And when he does, it will not be pleasant. You know what this is about, don't you?"

I sat back against the seat and rolled up my sleeve, staring down at my right arm. The tracks were gone now, they had been for years, but in my mind I could still see them, and with them all the damage I had done to that sweet and gentle boy, simply by doing nothing at all.

"You're not that person anymore, Steven," Robert spoke softly. "You are a fine master, a caring brother, and, if I may, you've been a terrific father to him."

That word made me cringe. I could, perhaps, see Alex as a son, but I could never, ever, see myself as a father. I was not worthy of such a title.

"I know you don't see yourself that way. But Alex is a very gifted and very complicated boy, and he's becoming an outstanding young man. Give yourself some credit. I could never handle the demands of a boy like Alex."

I was beginning to doubt if anyone could.

We stopped about an hour from home to pick up some groceries, since the house was going to be rather crowded over the next few days. Michael coaxed Alex out his cage and I tossed the boy his shorts and T-shirt. He dressed hurriedly then sat on the floor and fumbled with his shoes, unable with his trembling hands to get the laces tied. I knelt down to help him. He drew his knees up and scooted himself against the wall. For a moment his expression told me he didn't know who I was. His eyes were glassy, ringed in dark circles. He was a pitiable sight. He finally seemed to recognize me and stuck his feet out to let me tie his laces. When I was finished I patted him on the leg and he slid up along the wall until he was half standing. I took off his ankle cuffs, and removed the padlocks from those on his wrists and collar.

Alex' hands found my shoulders when I was finished. I gazed up at him and straightened his shirt before realizing what he'd done.

"You've got it on backwards, Lexi," I said with a smile. I lifted it slowly.

"Huh? Oh. Sorry."

"Raise your arms."

He did, and I turned his shirt around for him.

"Tag goes in back, sweetheart."

"I know."

Together Michael and I helped him out of the van. Robert came in with us. Sam and Seb waited in their Rover. Sebastian actually sat up front with his master, which I found rather surprising, given Sam's rather extraordinary creativity where the keeping and training of his young nephew was concerned. The boy was asleep, the side of his face pressed against the glass. I saw Sam reach over and gently shift the boy around, placing a small pillow with cartoon characters on it beneath the little fellow's head. Caught showing his softer, gentler side, Sam shrugged his shoulders and smiled at us as we walked away.

Alex was a zombie in the store, obediently pushing the cart along, leaning against it for support whenever we stopped in one of the aisles. He started talking to himself at one point, incoherently, and we had to hurriedly shuffle him along and keep him quiet. We knew he'd never make it through the line, so I took him back out to the van while Mike and Robert finished up.

"Help Michael with the bags, Alex," I said when they returned.

He blinked at me and stumbled out the back door. Robert caught him before he could trip and hit his head on the blacktop. Mindlessly he loaded the bags into the van, placing some carefully, throwing others in without concern. Robert had to wrestle the bag with the eggs from him, and decided he'd better keep that one up front.

Michael stripped him once we were back on the road, and I tossed an apple to the naked boy. He missed it, and it rolled around the floor of the van. Alex watched it tumble this way and that and soon broke out in hysterical laughter, pointing at it with a slender shaking arm. Then he fell to his knees and started to cry.

I quickly grabbed the wayward Red Delicious and put it into his hands. He cradled it like some private treasure and crawled into his cage, munching on it quietly. I closed the door, there was no reason to lock it, then sat down beside the cage and watched my boy eat. I was not about to leave him in this state, not even with Michael there to watch over him.

That little bit of solid food, the first he'd eaten since before the hunt, seemed to perk Alex up noticeably. He even smiled at me when I reached in with a rag and wiped the sticky juice from the apple off his hands. The boy's grip was light and weak when he held on to me. I squeezed his hands tightly in return. He closed his eyes and hung his head between his shoulders.

"You can put your head down, honey," I told him. Alex looked up at me with sad eyes, then wiggled around in the cage until he managed to rest his head on its wooden floor. There was no room inside for him to lie down. He was forced to stay on his hands and knees. He leaned to one side. He didn't sleep. He started humming to himself, softly, in a high sorrowful pitch, some song I'd never heard.

Michael seemed to recognize the melody and he sat down and hummed it with him. We both held the boy's hands. Less than an hour later we were home, Alex still humming the same tune over and over again.

"His mind's starting to wander," Sam told us as we met briefly outside the van. Michael was beside himself with worry, and I wasn't far behind. Alex' voice could still be heard, soft and sweet, echoing within. "That's to be expected. We need to give him things to do, to keep him focused. Why don't we have Sebastian walk him around while we get everything unpacked?"

Young Seb eagerly nodded his head, proud to be given an assignment on his own. We all agreed it was a good idea, to get both of the youngsters out of the way for a while. I returned to the van and opened the door to the cage. Alex didn't move.

"Alex," I said strongly. His singing stopped. "Come out of the cage."

He backed out slowly. I put my hands around his hips and helped him down.

"Stand."

Alex blinked his eyes in confusion, knowing that word meant he was supposed to do something. He did remember, and slowly clasped his hands behind his head. I secured his ankle cuffs again, and checked his belt and the plug in his ass to make sure he wasn't working loose. With Michael's help we put the padlocks on once more, and I clasped the leash to his collar.

Sebastian was nearly jumping out of his sexy little shorts and he ran up to take the leash from my hands. I smiled at the four-foot [1.20 m] high boy and tousled his short spiky red hair. "Don't let him get away from you, Seb," I warned him.

"No, sir."

He pulled on the leash, tugging it downward.

"Down, Alex," he said in his high melodious voice. "Down."

Alex obediently returned to his hands and knees. Seb patted him on the head. "Crawl, Alex. Come on. Crawl."

And he scampered off with Alex shuffling along on all fours behind him.

The boys were out of sight and out of mind for a while as we unpacked everything and stored the groceries. Michael was sent out to heat up the grill. The evening air already had a subtle chill to it, those last wonderful summer nights, when the smells and sounds of early autumn are just returning. Robert, Sam and I sat on the front porch watching Mike, naked and harnessed again, as he went about his work.

"So, did the two of you…?" Robert asked me.

"No. We didn't," I said, keeping his orgasm as our own private secret. "We just talked."

"I see."

Robert stood up, his thoughtful eyes resting on his handsome and wonderful young slave. He took a long deep breath. "The air is changing. Can you feel it?"

We all could, but I knew the deeper meaning of his words. I stood beside him and put my arm around his shoulder. He leaned in to me.

"I'm going to miss him," was all he said.

"There's still time. They're both young."

He smiled and laughed softly. I'd never before seen this side of him, a man I'd known my entire life. "I told you Alex would change every life he touches."

"And he has," I said.

Robert stood up straight and gathered his emotions once more. "For the better."

"Hadn't we best find those two boys," Samuel interjected, "before they get themselves into trouble."

We all agreed that was a wise course of action. And it didn't take us long. The sound of frustrated high-pitched grunts from behind the old barn led us right to them. Alex was on his knees. Sebastian stood in front of him with his shorts around his ankles, his shirt thrown off several feet away. He had hold of Alexander's head and was madly fucking the thirteen-year-old's face, his slender hips rocking forward and back with reckless abandon.

"Oh, yeah, Alex. Yeah!" the eleven-year-old shouted. "Suck me. Suck me! Suck my big hard cock!"

Robert and I broke down in laughter, particularly at Seb's rather inflated estimation of his little four-inch boner [10 cm]. Samuel's reaction was rather more subdued. There was a knowing smile on his face. We moved in to pull the boys apart, but he held us back and gestured for us to be quiet.

"No," he said. "Let him try to finish."

Sebastian's thrusts became more desperate. His eyes were tightly closed. "Oh, shit. Oh, shit!" His little voice was high and strained. "Ohhh. Ahhh. Ahhh. Aaaahhh!" His knees gave out and he collapsed onto the ground, shaking and trembling. I could see a tiny glob of sperm dribbling from Alex' lower lip. Samuel walked forward slowly and gently cradled Sebastian in his arms. The boy was crying.

"I'm sorry, master," he sobbed.

Sam clutched him tightly and rubbed the back of the boy's neck. He took the boy's cock in his hand and stroked it tenderly. Sensitive from his first ejaculation, Sebastian whined and moaned. Sam hugged the boy again, then he wiped Sebastian's tears. "How did it feel, Seb?" he asked gently.

The boy sniffled but managed a smile. "Good."

"We'll talk about your punishment when we get back home. Right now I think you have something to say to Alex."

Alex was still on his knees, Sebastian's immature sperm dripping from his mouth. Seb crawled over to him and kissed him on the lips, licking his own juices.

"Thanks, Alex," he said softly.

Sam helped him to his feet and pulled his shorts back up, giving his hindquarters a good solid smack. "Get your shirt on."

The little boy, apparently not so little anymore, worked himself back into his tight black T and dutifully picked up Alex' leash again. He handed it to me with a sheepish grin.

"No, Seb. You can keep him for a while."

He beamed with pride and reached down to pat Alex on the head as he'd seen me do so many times. "Come on, Alex." A little tug and they were off across the grass, Alex crawling obediently at Sebastian's side, both headed for the unmistakable smell of the grill round front.

Michael handled the cooking for the most part, while the three of us sat down for a cool drink. Young Sebastian was still in charge of Alex, and getting rather inventive. We all watched with warm smiles as he mounted the thirteen-year-old's back, jammed his knees into Alex' side and rode him around the yard for a while. It wasn't long before Alex was struggling under the weight, his tired muscles flexing and straining with every movement. Sebastian reined him in with the leash and smacked his hand against Alex' behind to urge him forward.

"Creative, isn't he?" Robert observed with a laugh.

He was certainly that. Wickedly so. Like master, like slave.

"I can't believe you let him have an orgasm, Sam," my old friend continued.

Samuel Collins gave us a sly glance. "One cannot desire what one has never had, my dear Robert. Now that he knows the pleasure, denying it will be exquisite torture."

Robert and I both shook our heads. "You really are evil," we told him in unison. "You know that."

He rose and bowed theatrically.

"Dinner's about ready, sirs," Michael called from the grill.

Salmon. Lightly seasoned and perfectly done. Michael does have a knack for these things. He took Alex and Sebastian with him into the house to bring out everything else. I heard some clattering of dishes through the open door, but soon they reappeared, the junior slaves following on Michael's heels, carrying bowls and plates. An appealing scene.

When everything was set, Michael and Seb joined us at the table. Alex was our serving boy. Walking round to each of us, presenting one bowl and tray after another until our plates were full. Michael himself served the main course. I walked Alex back to the porch and wrapped his leash around the railing, tethering him securely. I left him standing there and returned to the late summer feast. Alex looked on from across the yard, alone, licking his lips at the wonderful food he'd been so close to, but was not allowed to touch.

As we finished, we all scraped our plates onto one and I took it over to him and laid it at his feet. Alex squatted down and looked up at me for permission.

"Eat."

It was mostly slop, half-cold, the remains of our meal and nothing more. I gave him a piece of bread to sop up the juices on the plate. He ate with his hands, greedily. When he was finished, I held the plate to his face.

"Lick it clean."

He did, until it was almost pure white again. Robert brought me a napkin. I knelt down and cleaned Alex' hands.

"On your feet, Alex."

"Yes, sir."

The first words he'd spoken in hours.

"Do you need to piss?" I asked.

He nodded. All of us were surrounding him now.

"Then do it right here."

His head fell to his chest. He closed his eyes and stood there motionless, his arms limp at his sides. Soon a pale yellow stream was pouring from the hole in the metal pod that encased his genitals. It splattered over his bare feet. Alex looked up when he was done.

"Good boy."

I unwound his leash from the rail and we walked him over to the side of the barn, where the hose lay coiled and waiting. Alex hadn't had a bath since the hunt. He was filthy and smelly. With four of us working on him, the leather came off quickly and was given to the young redhead for safekeeping. Grabbing up some loose discarded rope, weatherworn and frayed, we tied Alex' hands behind his back and stood him up against the wall. I knelt down and tied his ankles together, making several passes with the coarse thick hemp. His knees were next. His tired eyes pleaded with me.

I roughly ran my fingers through his hair, dirty and tangled. Robert turned the water on, and we took our time hosing the boy down. Bound as he was, there was no way he could shield himself from the frigid blasts of cold water. Exhausted as he was, he didn't bother to try.

"Turn around, Alex," I said when Sam momentarily stopped the flow.

Alex struggled on his bound feet, but with an endearing hop managed to do as he was told. His bath resumed. Finally, the boy fell over, lying helpless on his side, crying softly to himself.

"That's enough," I said. Sam wound up the hose. I stood over my boy for a moment, then gestured Robert over. The ropes were soaked and swollen and it took us some time to get them off. His hands we left tied. Alex just lay there, silent, shivering.

"On your feet, boy," Robert called out sternly, swatting the boy's behind. Alex managed to stagger to his knees, then slowly to his feet. Biting his lower lip, he stared at us blankly. That playful fire that lit his sweet soft eyes was gone. Alex was deep inside somewhere. Alone. Battered by those he trusted. Worn beyond his endurance by those he loved. Hiding.

We marched him back to the house and into the living room. There we cut the ropes that bound his hands. The marks they'd left were deep and red. Sebastian dutifully, almost reverently, laid all of Alex' leather gear at the older boy's feet. I could see by the gleam in the little redhead's eyes that he desperately wanted to be the one to do it.

"No. Stay there, Sebastian," I said, approaching the two boys. I put my hand under Alex' chin and raised his eyes to mine.

"You made Sebastian cum, didn't you?"

Alex lips quivered before he spoke. "Yes, master."

"Why did you do that?"

He looked at Seb, who turned his own eyes away in guilt. Alex pointed at the skinny little redhead. "He… he made me do it."

"You're bigger than he is, Alex. He can't make you do anything."

"But… I had to… I had to do what he told me… you said, I mean Michael said, somebody said…" Tears were running from his eyes.

"You need to be punished, don't you?"

Alex lowered his head again. His voice was small and fragile when he spoke, repeating my words from a moment ago "I need to be punished, sir." And then his own words from that day I found him in the barn, whispered to himself in a young and frightened voice. Words I suddenly knew he'd been taught and made to say many times before. "Bad boys have to be punished."

"Yes they do," I said softly. Together Robert and I locked his wrist and ankle cuffs in place. Then I took his collar and placed it in Michael's hands, dropping the tiny brass lock into his open palm. "Michael, please collar him."

Robert pushed Alex to his knees. Michael stepped forward with trembling hands. He held the collar close for a moment, running his fingers over the soft leather, then he held it out and started to place it around Alexander's slender neck. The boy's eyes widened in sudden unspeakable horror.

"No!" he shouted, loud and shrill, a mournful sorrowful cry of pain and anguish. "No!" He pushed Michael away and scrambled to his feet, sobbing and crying. I tried to put my arms around him, but his fists flew at me in rage. "You promised! You promised you'd never… I'm supposed to be yours, yours forever. Remember! Remember!"

He continued to batter me with angry blows, even as I held him.

"Alex."

"Liar! That's all you are! It's all your fault. Everything. Why don't you just go get high again and leave me alone." His last words were spoken in a low, cold voice, and his hazel eyes were daggers. "I hate you."

I let him go. I'd been expecting to hear those words for years, but when they finally came, I wasn't prepared for the power held within them. I didn't know what to do. Or what to say. Or how I could ever undo what I'd done to him all those years ago, when I gave him away.

Alex fell to his knees.

"Butterfly."

And he curled himself into a little ball, shaking and sobbing and crying. We, all of us, just stood there, silenced and stricken by pain too deep, by a boy's wounds too raw to touch.

We didn't leave him. We couldn't leave him. We all knelt down on the soft rug, surrounding him. Sam held Sebastian close. Michael wept openly. Through my own tears I gazed down at my brother, this boy who was so special to me. Suddenly his nakedness seemed wrong. I grabbed a blanket from the sofa and laid it gently over his trembling frame. Alex clung to it desperately.

And for a while that was all we did. Sit by him, touch him gently every time he trembled or stifled a sob. Just letting him know he was not alone. He wouldn't talk, or look at any of us. If we tried to take his hand, he'd quickly move it away.

I spoke softly into his ear. "Please tell me I haven't lost you."

Alex didn't answer. And so I sat there with him, with all those who loved him, and we waited. Finally he moved his hand toward me, slowly, unsure. I reached out and squeezed it gently. He squeezed back, and he would not let go.

"I'm sorry." The pain still echoed in his voice. "I shouldn't have said those things."

"You had to." I touched my fingers to his cheek. "Now we can finally talk about it."

He looked up at me with weeping eyes. "I don't hate you."

"I know, Alex. I know." I took the keys from my pocket. "Come on guys, help me get these things off him."

Alex sniffled. "You don't have to."

"Yes I do."

When everything was gone and set aside, I got him up. Michael wrapped a blanket around him and we sat him down on the sofa. Alex leaned against me and I cradled his head on my shoulder.

"Don't ever make me go away," he cried.

"Never again. I wish I could take all that back, Alex. But wishing won't change what happened."

He leaned forward, hugging his arms closely to his chest. "Sometimes it feels so bad."

"Tell us," I said.

Alex sat up for a moment, then shook his head and leaned over again, staring down at the floor. "It's hard. I can't."

I put my arm around his shoulder. Michael knelt in front of him, gently patting his legs. "I know it's difficult, Alex. I know," he said it with the strength and assuredness of one who had been there not so long ago. "But you have to tell us."

"You've been carrying this around so long, Lexi," I said. "It's time to let it go."

He shook his head, but I could feel him shaking beside me.

"You've already said the hardest things. The things you've always wanted to say."

Alex looked at me with shame in his eyes, something I could not bear to see. "I was afraid," he whispered.

"I know."

"Tell us everything, Alex," Michael said, holding the boy's head between his hands. Alex struggled and tried to break free. "Don't look away. Tell us. Or we'll whip it out of you." Words spoken so gently I scarcely grasped their meaning.

Alex began to speak, slowly, often stopping himself to take a tearful breath, or to correct some memory he'd gotten wrong. Listening to him was all we could do, and it was painful. Devastating. Of course I had read the medical reports when Robert got him back for me, and Alex had hinted at things, awful things, over the years since. But I had no idea. I had no idea what he had endured, the hopeless depth of his suffering, the calculated abuse of his keepers.

There was the closet, dark and empty, where he spent days sometimes weeks, chained, naked and alone, hungry, dragged out once a day to use the toilet, punished if he had an accident during the night. I imagined him, just a little boy, lying there in his own waste, crying himself to sleep.

There were the beatings. A daily occurrence. Nothing so refined as a leather whip. Coat hangers on his thighs, electric cords for his back, belts and wooden rulers for everyplace else. He explained that often they would throw a thin blanket over him first, so they could beat him without leaving any marks that might show in school. He was slapped, punched, and kicked in such a casual way that it almost became routine.

"I'd get a boner every time they beat me," he said, looking up from his sad, monotone narrative for just a moment. "I didn't understand why. It just made them angrier. He'd get a ruler and hit it until it got soft again. They didn't care how loud I screamed… they didn't care."

There was rape. By the man and the woman both. He wouldn't talk about it.

"I… I started having orgasms… when they did it." His voice was small, filled with shame. "I knew it was wrong. It shouldn't make me feel good, but it did."

'Little slut enjoys it'

"No! I don't!"

'Don't lie to me boy or you'll get it'

"Stop! You're hurting me."

'That's what you want, isn't it, you worthless piece of shit'

On and on the conversation went, from some deep place in the sweet haunted boy's memory. Word for word, Alex playing all the roles, half laughing half crying as he relived his abuse. Finally he broke down in a fit of tears.

I held him as he cried, and he wrapped his arms around me.

"You are not worthless, Alex," I said. That word had repeated itself far too often.

"Then why did you let them take me away? Why didn't you… why didn't you… I must have been worthless. Why else… I mean, what was I supposed to think?"

"I'm so sorry, Alex."

"That's what always hurt the most," he said, and the torrent was then unleashed. He wasn't shouting or yelling, there wasn't even anger in his voice, just pain and truth. "And then you started giving me away again. First to Robert, then Bartholomew, and then Vincent… ", he gazed up for a moment, his hazel eyes swimming, "I wasn't going to let it hurt me anymore. I was going to make it hurt you instead. So I just kept going."

"Is that why you wouldn't use your safeword, honey?"

He nodded. "I had to show you I didn't care what you did. I know you wanted me to say it, lots of times, but I had to show you."

I stroked Alex' hair. Robert handed him a tissue, and the boy quickly wiped his eyes.

"And then you gave Mike my collar. I thought it was for real. So I said it. I said all those things. And now I've ruined everything."

"No you haven't, Alex. I shouldn't have done that. I know what the collar means to you. I promise no one else but me will ever put it on you again, until you're ready."

Michael reached into the blanket and took Alexander's hands. A warm, loving smile crossed his handsome face as he spoke. "Until we're both ready, Alex."

My wonderful boy was in tears again, but this time they were accompanied by a delicate, beautiful smile.

"You are loved, Alex," I said. "And not just by me. Look around, sweetheart."

He did, and he saw and felt the warmth surrounding him. We all stayed beside him for the longest time. Alex never once left my arms. There were more tears, more memories, but there was also gentle laughter. The sun was actually rising on a new day, when Alex finally closed his eyes.

I invited our dear friends to stay and get some rest, and I gently woke Alex to get him upstairs. The bathroom was our first destination. I got the shower nice and warm for him and watched the boy carefully as he stood under the stream, the water running down his face and over his smooth skin. He didn't move.

"Soap up," I told him.

"Huh? Oh. Right." He turned his lean frame away from me and washed himself, sighing contentedly as the warm water soothed his tired and aching young muscles. The soap squirted out of his wet hands and landed between his feet. He bent over to retrieve it, then slowly went down to his knees. "I can't get up," he said to me, his voice tired and distant, his body no doubt already asleep.

I reached in and helped him to his feet.

"Rinse," I said.

He turned himself awkwardly in a full circle. There were still trails of soap running down his legs when he stepped out.

I had a soft towel waiting for him, and he buried himself in it as I lovingly dried him. He started crying again and looked at me with sad wistful eyes.

"What do we do now?" he asked.

"Slow down and take our time," I answered.

He nodded and wiped his eyes. "I'm too old to be crying like this."

"I won't tell anyone if you don't."

Alex silently agreed that was a good idea, and I led him to his bedroom. The simple paper with the words 'slave's room' written in his own hand was still taped beside the doorframe. We did not take it down. The chains were still there at the four corners of his bed. We did not remove them. But we could ignore them if we chose, and that's what we did.

I laid him down and pulled the blankets over him. He stared up at the ceiling, watching the blades of the fan spin round and round.

"Sleep, Alex," I said.

He rolled over onto his side. His eyelids fluttered and closed. Alex' longest day had ended.

The house was still asleep when I woke up. It would be several days yet before everyone's clocks returned to normal, especially Alex. I checked on him, cursing the creaking wooden boards as I crept quietly across his bedroom floor. It was impossible not to announce yourself in this old place. Alex didn't stir, and I found him just as I'd left him, sleeping soundly. He was on his stomach, his arms splayed out, his head nearly off the pillow. One bare leg hung out from the blankets, a naked foot dangling off the side of the bed. Alex was a light sleeper, and I didn't dare return it under the covers.

I went down the hall, running into a sleepy-eyed Sebastian who'd gotten up to relieve himself.

"Morning, sir," he mumbled with a yawn as he toddled back to bed.

"It's evening, Seb," I replied with a grin.

"Oh. Whatever." And that was the last I saw of him for several more hours.

The door to Robert and Michael's room was closed, so I was fairly sure I knew what was going on in there. I was surprised to find Robert alone when I got downstairs. He was on the back porch, leaning against the railing and staring off at the rounded tree-covered mountains in the distance.

"It's a nice setting, Steven," he said without turning around.

"Can I get you something?" I asked. "I think I've still got an old bottle of wine around here."

"That would be lovely."

I rummaged around in the pantry until I found it. Growing up, there was a true wine closet where the flour and sugar now lived. It had always been well stocked with the finest vintage. I smiled, remembering the sneaking of my first drink at age eleven. I was sick for two days. I'd gotten rid of that closet as soon as I moved back in. But one lonely bottle did remain. I found a wineglass for Robert and presented it to him with my compliments.

He sipped it slowly and we sat down together on the porch as the sun began to set.

"How is he?"

"Still sleeping."

"He will be for a while yet."

"Tell me the truth, Robert. Was I wrong to start this?"

He sighed and pressed the glass to his bearded lips. "If you hadn't, he would have found more dangerous ways to hurt himself. He carried a burden no child ever should, and it was poisoning him, slowly. Now you tell me, would he ever have been able to say those things, if you hadn't helped him, if you hadn't pushed him?"

"No."

"Alex is who he is, Steven. His past complicates that a great deal, but it does not change it. He still needs a master."

"And he still has one."

"I'm pleased to hear it. And he's lucky to have someone who loves him, someone to guide him."

"He asked me what we're supposed to do now."

Robert set his glass on the small table between us. "And your answer?"

"I told him we'll take our time."

"Good. He needs a chance to think. And he still has so much to learn. You both do. Let him set the pace for a while. Rein him in if you think he's going too fast. Push him when you feel you need to, but never too hard. He's vulnerable right now, Steven. Don't take unfair advantage. But," he said, raising an eyebrow at me, "don't you ever lower your expectations of him, as a slave or as a young man."

"Thanks," I replied. "I don't know where we'd be today without you."

"I just offered you the opportunity," he said, reaching over and taking my hand. "You were the one who got yourself cleaned up… and stayed that way. The credit is yours. As far as Alex is concerned, I'm honored you've both put your faith in me. I trust I've not abused it."

"Not for a minute. Alex adores you. You scare him to death sometimes, but he adores you."

"I have that effect on people."

I laughed, and got up for a moment to turn on the porch lights. "What are we going to do about the two of them?" I asked as I sat back down. He knew what I meant.

Michael and Alex.

We needed to talk about that.

"Michael and Alex. That has a nice sound to it, doesn't it?"

"It does. Alex is in love with him."

"Michael has said the same to me."

"It's too soon for them," I said quietly.

"I agree. It's not time. Michael has college to think about, and Alex is turning into a full-fledged teenager. They need to experience those things first. They are still quite young."

"But we shouldn't keep them apart."

"Of course not. It's up to us to get them off to a good start. Let them learn about each other. Explore themselves together. We need to make sure we make time for their relationship. We can't keep our boys to ourselves anymore, Steven. There are things Michael will need to learn, things you and I can teach him, but Alex will need to be there when we do. It will be our duty to love them, and keep them safe."

I liked the idea very much. Robert continued with a sardonic smile. "Michael is going to have his hands full. You know that better than anyone. Mastering Alex is a difficult job."

Chapter 32
Time

It was late in afternoon of the next day before Alex returned to the world of the waking. I'd heard him get up a few times to use the bathroom, but he always went straight back to bed. We left him alone, taking our turns checking on him, always careful not to disturb his much-needed rest. We were all in the kitchen, enjoying the summer afternoon, when he finally came down.

He was dressed. I'd left his closet unlocked for him. Denim shorts and a white tank top. He still hard dark circles around his eyes, but they were lively again.

"Hi," he said, shy and quietly, a little embarrassed at having slept so long.

All of us had a hug for him. Alex was smiling as he returned each embrace. The boy's touch was gentle. It would be a few days yet before he regained all his strength. He was fragile and vulnerable, but no longer ashamed to let it show. For me and Michael he also had an affectionate kiss.

We couldn't keep enough food on the table as Alex ravenously ate everything he was offered. The boys then played a bit, joking and jostling each other, but it was clear Alex didn't have the energy to keep up. The three of them sat down on the floor of the living room and talked quietly amongst themselves. Often we'd hear Sebastian's high clear laughter or Michael playfully teasing them about something. Alex was mostly quiet but I recognized his sweet soft tenor chiming in once in awhile.

Robert, Samuel and I actually served them dinner that night, a strange reversal of our roles.

"Don't get used to this, boys," Robert said with a laugh.

Alex playfully gestured him away with a flick of his wrist, and the youthful trio was soon deep in conversation again. It was a joy watching them, their wonderful personalities flourishing before our eyes. Michael a gentle but comfortable leader, caring and confident, a young man with the makings of a fine master within him. Sebastian. Clever, wicked, charming, and yet somehow innocent Sebastian. Young and exuberant. My sweet submissive Alex, quiet, thoughtful, sensitive, listening and watching, expressing his wit, his perception, his intelligence in gentle subtle ways. He could control the conversation with only a few words of his own. How I loved him.

Our friends left us late that evening, with firm hugs, best wishes for school, and plans to get together again. Alex and I stood on the front porch and watched as they departed, the lights slowly disappearing down the long driveway. We went back inside, and suddenly I was nervous. I'd been wondering how I would handle this moment when the two of us were truly alone together once more. How could I begin to say all things I wanted to tell him? How could we begin again?

Alex smiled up at me and gave me his answer. The boy stripped out of his clothes and stood there before me. That simple act. His humble nakedness. His love for me unbroken. I took him into my arms, and in that moment it was enough just to hold him.

Alex was a very busy young man over the next few months. The start of school, old friends, new friends, a successful tryout for the swimming team, weekly sessions with a therapist of Samuel Collins' acquaintance. He started his own science fiction reading club, which meant that every Thursday afternoon I'd have a handsome handful of eighth-grade boys to feed. Some were bookish, some were jocks, some were your everyday garden-variety boy so often overlooked and ignored. Alex seemed to fit in everywhere, and befriend them all with ease.

There were our visits with Robert and Michael, and frequent telephone calls. It was always Alex' job to answer the phone, but he did so with special urgency whenever he expected it to be Michael on the other end. The two of them went off to the city for a weekend, everything first-class for our two wonderful young men, thanks to Robert's generosity. It was their first chance to be alone together. Alex was glowing for weeks afterward.

There was a surprise visit from Bartholomew, and we talked long into the night about pain, its nature and its uses. Alex had become a bit of a scholar on the subject and he showered the seasoned master with astute and sometimes difficult questions. Bartholomew also brought us an amazing gift from his own collection, carefully assembled in our dungeon by his own experienced hands. A rack. The same one that had so fascinated Alex during their first encounter. Alex inspected it carefully, learning its workings inside and out. But we didn't use it. Bartholomew understood.

"When you are ready, young man, not before," he said, shaking his hand as an equal. And they were equals, simply on opposite ends.

We had settled in to a comfortable routine. Alex' submission was a daily part of our lives. He was always naked and collared at home, when it was just the two of us, and those rules he himself had first written, in days that seemed so long ago now, were always our guide. He was thriving. Alex the slave. Alex the boy. He was both, simply by being himself.

All these things flashed through my mind as I woke up with Alex sleeping soundly beside me. The warmth of his naked body next to mine. The feel of his smooth hairless skin. The smell of him unwashed, boyish and masculine. A moment I cherished. At last I opened my eyes and pulled the blankets back, carefully. The boy was on his side, snoring softly, a wonderful sound, high and delicate and sweet. His slender arms were wrapped around his pillow. I ran my hands lightly through his hair. It was in need of a trim, longer now than it had been at the start of that magical summer which seemed an entire age ago, though time had been measured only in months. He'd also gone for some blond highlights on the top, which made him look very cute and sexy. I rubbed my fingers over the three rings that now adorned his left earlobe. He moaned softly in his sleep.

The welts and bruises from the night before were still vivid upon his back, as vivid as the memory of what we'd done, as clear and as beautiful as the boy's screams. It was our first night in the dungeon since summer's end. Alex and I had spent these months exploring new aspects of our special relationship, making wondrous discoveries about one another, about dominance and submission, pain and pleasure. So much ground for man and boy, master and slave, to walk upon. There was discipline, there was punishment, there was strict bondage often lasting an entire weekend, there were light whippings when he needed them, and of course his daily spankings, but the dungeon had remained locked, until last night.

The snow had been falling for hours when I picked him up from school. The first big snowfall of the year. We both instinctively knew he'd be staying home right through the weekend. The time was ours.

"Just for us," he'd said quietly as I drove us home. He turned his gaze from the window and I saw his young eyes dancing with the possibilities. I rested one hand tenderly on his thigh.

"You're such a hopeless romantic," I replied with a smile.

He smiled back and stuck his tongue out at me. "And you're way too cynical."

"Where did you learn that word?"

"Television. Where else? It's all your fault, you know. You're the one who makes me watch those news shows Sunday mornings. I'm happy enough with cartoons."

I laughed. "Well, we make an interesting pair then, don't we?"

He leaned over as far as his seatbelt would allow and pressed his head against my shoulder, just for a moment. "We sure do."

The snow was falling harder by the minute. I turned us carefully onto our long driveway. I was struck immediately by the thought of making Alex shovel it in the nude, wearing just his metal collar and shackles as the snow fell all around him, as the wind blew harsh and cruel over his slender five-foot-and-a-few-inches [1.55 m] frame. I looked over at him and he read my mind. My boy folded his arms and gave me his most defiant expression.

"No freakin' way," he said, his soft tenor beginning to betray the deepening voice of a young teenager.

"You would if I told you to."

"But you won't," he replied gently, with complete assuredness.

"You're right."

I stripped him naked on the porch, as was our daily ritual upon his return from school. Off came his baseball cap, his coat, his boots. Then his sweater, his shirt, his socks. Finally his jeans came down, revealing the jock strap he always wore under everything else. Alex had to be on his honor at school, but the strap was a constant reminder of my expectations. He was soft at the moment and already shivering from the cold.

"Were you a good boy today?" I asked, beginning his interrogation as I always did.

"Yes, sir," he said between chattering teeth.

"Take it off."

Alex slid the jock strap down his narrow hips and handed it to me. I inspected it and felt the interior of the pouch, still warm from being up against his genitals. As always it was a bit wet from a full day of leaking pre-cum, but there were no other incriminating signs.

"Do I pass?" he asked with sly knowing eyes.

"You do. How many erections did you have today?"

He looked up at me with a guilty smile. "Two, sir."

I waited in silence for his explanation.

"I got hard after gym, sir. When Nate and I were showering together. I… I like looking at him."

I confess I liked looking at Nate too. He'd become a regular visitor since the start of school, coming by to get help with his homework, and to get his cock sucked by a very eager Alex. "And the second time?"

He smiled up at me. "In the car. I knew school'd be closed tomorrow. I figured we'd do some stuff tonight."

I put on my most innocent expression and took his hand. "What kind of stuff, dear boy?"

He lowered his head in mock shame but kept his eyes on me. "Torture and sex. Lots of it. In that order, please."

"I see."

He laughed impishly and I pulled him into my arms. "Later," I said quietly into his ear. "Right now we have to warm you up. Get your little ass inside, boy."

Naked Alex scampered into the foyer, playful and full of energy. Thirteen-and-one-half. The half was very important to him. He could still be so childlike, it still came so naturally for him, and yet it was also a remarkable young man who was living under my roof now. From one day, or even one moment, to the next, I could never be sure which Alex would be looking back at me with those wonderful eyes. Often I guessed wrong, expecting him to behave like an adult when he just wanted to be a kid, or treating him like a child when he was determined to face a problem on his own.

"You're in one of your moods today, aren't you?" I asked.

Alex shrugged with teenaged indifference, but his eyes laughed. Then, suddenly, he became serious and subdued. I knew what he wanted, what he needed. I removed the plain simple collar he wore to school every day, no different from the type many boys his age like to wear, and took the other one from its hook on the wall. The one Robert had made for him, the one he'd worn all summer, the one that seemed to hold some mythical importance to him. I made Alex hold it while I opened the padlock. He fingered the leather almost reverently.

"Ready?" I asked gently, rubbing his shoulders.

"Yes, master."

I put it around his neck and locked it in place. He stood straight and still for a moment, then we smiled and I hugged him, caressing his smooth skin, warming him, feeling his taut young muscles beneath his small, slender frame. In his left ear, the one with those sexy rings in it, I told him.

"I'm going to hurt you so bad tonight. I might even give you a few scars. I'm going to make you scream, boy. I'm going to make you cry and beg me to stop. But I won't stop. Not for a minute."

He stood up on his toes and whispered back into my ear. "And I won't say it. Not for a minute."

We both knew what word he was talking about. I kissed him, and the spell was broken, for the moment. "Why don't you get a fire going for us, and I'll make some hot chocolate. Soup's in the pot when we get hungry."

"Ok."

"Be careful with the matches."

He rolled his eyes at me, which of course is why I'd said it.

We had a nice evening together, eating and talking and watching one of his favorite science fiction films. He wrapped himself in a blanket and snuggled up against me. I stroked his hair and nibbled on his ear. Finally, as the snow continued to fall, I spoke to him in a soft voice.

"Go downstairs, Alex."

He trembled for a moment, as he always did, then stood up and let the blanket fall from his shoulders, revealing his beautiful young body to me. His eyes smiled, and he disappeared into the kitchen. I heard the door opening, and his feet creaking on the steps. I left him there alone for close to an hour while I tended the fire and cleaned up from dinner.

When I entered our dungeon, Alex was sitting on the rack, swinging his slender legs back and forth. He'd already locked his leather cuffs around his wrists and ankles. I took his leash from its place on the wall and stood in front of him. He looked at me, and his eyes told me what his voice never could. He wanted it hard and brutal. He wanted me cruel.

He got it.

I attached the leash to his collar and yanked him down onto the floor.

"Crawl you filthy little animal!" I shouted at him.

I practically dragged the boy over to the punishment bench. There I strapped him down onto his stomach, so tightly he could barely breathe. I grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled his head back, forcing the gag into his mouth and strapping it painfully tight behind his head. I took the newest of our butt- plugs, long and thick, and shoved it into his ass. Alex bucked against the restraints and shouted in agony at the sudden assault.

I walked around to the front of the bench, taking the heavy leather strap from the wall. Alex watched me with wide, terrified eyes. "Two erections today. You know better. Are you hard right now?" I asked.

Alex blinked his eyes once.

"You won't be when I'm finished with you."

I laid into him relentlessly. Not since those days that ended our most memorable summer had I hit him with such cruel and calculated force. But his words to me that day had slowly changed us both. In many ways, over the months that had passed since, it felt like we were starting over, starting from a beginning of our own making. All the choices were ours now. Mine and his. It was good. And it was time to hear Alex scream again.

My boy was sobbing quietly when I finished. His behind was bruised and battered a deep purple, the backs of his thighs bearing angry welts from the cat. I got him back on his feet and he managed to keep his legs working long enough for me to drag him over to the rack. He struggled and resisted and forced me to tug hard on his leash. He stumbled and fell to his knees.

"On your feet," I hissed, grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling him up, all the while yanking him forward. "We're just getting started, you and I. Get up there!"

I practically threw his lean teenaged form onto the rack. He landed roughly on his shoulder and shouted into his gag. He curled his naked body into a tight little ball. Alex was fighting me, really fighting me.

"You know what I want, boy," I said with menace in my voice. I tried to pull his arms into position.

He shook his head and just lay there, refusing to move. I whipped him savagely until he obeyed and slowly straightened himself out. Alex was heaving and sobbing, his breaths coming in short, rapid gasps. I dropped the whip, climbed on top of him and pinned him down with my weight. He closed his eyes and turned his head away.

"Alex, look at me."

Instantly he did.

"I need to know you're ok."

He blinked his eyes once.

"Alright then," I replied, laying a loving hand on his chest, feeling his racing heart. "I won't ask you again." I locked his wrists and ankles down one by one and slowly turned the winches. I watched him as his developing young muscles began to stretch. He pulled hard against the chains and thrashed around until the slack was gone. He savored this, and so did I. I took my time, gradually increasing the strain on his body. A quarter turn would make him wince and moan. A half turn would make him gasp and cry out. A full turn would make him scream in agony, the sound muffled to a pathetic whimper by his gag.

Once I was sure he was in constant pain, I began three hours of unrelenting torture. I whipped him. I clamped his nipples. I closed the metal vice around his balls and beat them until his hysterical wails forced me to stop. I dripped hot wax onto the boy's soft skin from his chest to his groin. I ran a single ice cube over him until it melted away. Then I whipped his cock.

"Don't cum."

He shook his head even as he screamed. Even as his cock surged and throbbed with each fierce and painful lash, he shook his head. Quickly and harshly I removed his gag, practically tearing it from his mouth.

"Scream for me, Alex."

He glared at me with youthful defiance.

"No?" I said in a mocking tone as the small but biting whip landed across his stomach. "We'll see." I took the cane from its place on the far wall. His eyes froze at the sight of it. I stood over him and gazed at his artwork that graced the white walls around us. I was surrounded by his creativity, his imagination, his deepest and darkest emotions. His pain. His suffering. It was all here for us. But there was something new. Something he hadn't told me, something he was waiting for me to discover.

Among all of his drawings, there had never been a picture of us. Until now. There it was. High on the wall, he must have stood on top of his cage to do it. Like all of his art it was representative, but it's meaning was clear. Two figures, one smaller and more delicate than the other, their arms locked in a loving embrace, their faces nondescript yet bright and full of life and promise. They were in motion, and full of joy.

I stared down at him in awe and wonder as tears filled my eyes. He lay there before me, naked, sweating, in unspeakable pain, and he smiled at me.

"I love you," I said.

He closed his eyes. "Show me."

I raised the cane and brought it down hard upon his thighs. He shrieked, and his screams echoed off the walls. All the while, as I was beating him, I stared at that image on the wall, half blinded by my tears, and every time I stopped and looked at Alex, he managed to smile through his own.

Hours later, Alex hung by his wrists from the chains in the ceiling, his feet swinging above the floor, his back covered in welts, five pounds [2¼ kg] of leaden weight dangling from his balls. His cock was soft, just as I'd promised him it would be. Tears were falling freely from his eyes now, and his voice was nearly gone. His head fell upon his chest in exhaustion. He had nothing left, and still I whipped him.

I ended with the cane. And I kept my promise. The last blow cut him, deeply. He was too weak to scream, but his mournful cry is one I will never forget. It did leave a delicate scar, the only one I ever gave him, marking him, and that moment, forever.

Alex was nearly unconscious when I finally released him from the chains. His legs were unable to support him, and he crumpled to his knees. I knelt in front of him and took him into my arms, holding him softly. He whimpered, and rested his head on my shoulder.

"We're not finished, baby. Get up."

Grabbing hold of me, the boy slowly brought himself to his feet. The weights still hung from his balls, stretched low, a nice shade of purple. I wrapped my hand around his cock, and walked him over to the small bed we kept in the corner. He moaned as the weights swung between his tired legs. I pushed him down gently onto his stomach. Alex lay there, breathing softly, gazing at me with loving eyes.

I kissed him on the forehead and returned a moment later with a length of rope, and his gag. I pulled his arms behind his back and tied his wrists tightly. Then I presented the gag to him. My submissive boy opened his mouth to receive it.

"Don't make a sound," I whispered in his ear.

Reaching between his legs, I worked the butt-plug for a while, twisting it around, pulling it out and letting his young ass take it back in. Alex did his best to obey me, even as I forcefully entered him. The only sounds were the creaking of the bed, and his occasional quiet sobs. His eyes were open the entire time, gazing off into a distance only he could fathom.

When it was over, I stayed inside him for the longest time. He lay still beneath me, and slowly fell asleep. When I was sure he was out, I carefully unbuckled the ball stretcher and took the weights away. Five pounds [2¼ kg] was far heavier than I'd realized as they dangled in my hand. How many hours had he endured them? Time seemed to have lost its meaning. I looked back at his sleeping form as I returned everything to its place. He was amazing.

I untied his wrists, and rubbed my hands over the deep marks left by the rope. Carrying one hundred pounds [45 kg] of thirteen-year-old boy up two flights of stairs was not an easy task. Growing arms and legs made it awkward, but Alex woke up enough to put his slender but muscular limbs around me.

"Don't let me go," he said in a sleepy voice.

"Never."

I put him down in my own bed. He was gone again before his head touched the pillow. I undressed and crawled in beside him, wrapping him in the thick blankets and holding him close.

And that was just how I awoke to find him that next morning.

Alex stirred when I touched his shoulder. He raised his head for a moment, then let it fall back down onto the pillow, unable to find the strength.

"What time is it?" he asked groggily.

"Just after nine."

"What day is it?" he then asked with a little laugh, more awake.

"Tomorrow."

"Oh. I thought you whipped me into next week."

"We can always try that later," I said, stroking his hair and patting the back of his head.

With some effort, and some obvious pain, he rolled himself onto his back. He winced when the welts and bruises touched the soft mattress.

"How are you feeling?"

He turned his eyes and not his head to me. "Sore. And tired."

"Racked joints?"

Alex bent his left arm slowly and rolled his shoulder. He stopped suddenly and took a sharp breath. "Ahhh. Yep. Everything's stiff."

I intentionally let his little pun go by. He turned his head this time. I enjoyed teasing him, and he enjoyed being teased. His eyes were so tired, but they still managed to be playful. "I mean ev-er-y-thing," he said to emphasize his point.

My hand moved slowly beneath the blankets and found the boy's hard cock, warm and fully erect. It throbbed insistently, and he trembled at my soft touch. He'd grown to seven inches [18 cm] now, a thick, long, beautiful organ for a boy still years away from his first shave. I pulled his foreskin up over the swollen crown, then down again. It always drove him crazy. He spread his legs and thrust his narrow hips up at me.

"How long has it been, Lexi?" I asked him.

I'm sure he knew the count right down to the minute. "Four weeks and three days, sir."

More than a month since I'd allowed him to have an orgasm. His days at school spent with the tight jockstrap confining him, his nights and weekends spent in the chastity belt always with a plug in his ass. We had never gone this long before nor ever this strict.

"You thought I was going to make you cum last night, didn't you?"

He nodded and sighed. "You didn't even touch it. Not once."

It was not disappointment that tinged his voice, but a certain unmistakable satisfaction that comes with the total embrace of conflicting desires. He was desperate for an orgasm, but equally aroused by the thought of never having one. The two extremes fed one another, keeping him in an often dizzying state of sexual desire and frustration.

"I think I'll milk you tonight."

Alex smiled and moved his body closer, pressing his slender frame against me. I lay on my side, and rested a hand on his chest. I could feel his young heart pounding. His soft skin was still so warm from being under the blankets.

"Can we light some candles?" he asked. "Like we did the first time?"

I kissed him on the cheek and tickled his navel. His giggle was that of a boy. "Anything you want, Alex. We'll make it special. Tonight will be just for you, ok?"

"Ok." He reached over and stroked my erection, his young hand sure, his dreamy expression one of single-minded purpose.

"Alex…"

He shook his head at me but did not say a word, or take his hand away. The boy wrestled with the blankets for a moment, and was soon straddling me, his firm slender legs pressing against my thighs. Smooth and silken, a wondrous touch. I swirled my fingers around his knees and worked my hands gently, lovingly into his flesh. I could see the shape and form of the young muscles in his thighs, the subtle ripples of his tight lean abdomen, the delicate curves of his boyish shoulders. He was breathing softly and gazing down at me, both hands on my dick now, his own erection snaking up toward his stomach, pointing to his chin.

Such an unexpected moment. Alex was in control. He'd never done anything like this before. He moved himself forward, timidly, awkwardly. It was a beautiful sight. I knew what he was about to do.

"Go ahead, baby," I whispered.

His hands were shaking, but they guided my cock to his opening. With a deep groan, the boy lowered himself. I put my hands on his hips to steady him, and he sat down.

Alex winced as he wiggled around to get it just right. "Aaahh. Ohhh, wow."

He bent over, and I reached up and touched my fingers to his face. "You're on top, Alex."

"Doesn't feel like it," he replied, his voice thick but barely a whisper.

I moved him slowly up and down. He moaned and whimpered then took up the rhythm on his own. His hazel eyes were glazed, as they always were when I was inside him.

"That's it, boy, fuck yourself."

He was bucking wildly, shouting and crying, a constant stream of clear fluid oozing from his cock, dribbling down onto my stomach. I came with a shout of my own, grabbing his slender hips and giving him several hard, violent thrusts. Alex collapsed on top of me, my cock still buried inside him.

After several minutes I lifted him slowly off me and rolled him onto his back. Alex blinked his eyes slowly, and he wrapped his left hand around his throbbing penis, still hard and begging for attention. I let him jerk himself off, the first time he'd touched himself that way in six months. I watched him, seeing every muscle in his body tense and relax and tense again, every little shudder of his slim teenaged frame. His eyes were tightly closed, his tongue lapping out over his lips. He was grunting quietly to himself. His breaths quickened.

"Are you going to cum?"

"I'm about to."

I grabbed his wrist and pulled it away. He resisted, just for a moment, then lay still and quiet. He turned his head, at once loving me and hating me for stopping him. We remained in bed for another hour, catnapping, talking, just being brothers and lovers.

"Think you can get up?" I finally asked.

"I'm already up," he replied with a laugh, wiggling his hips and making his softening cock bounce around from side to side.

"Without giving me a smart answer for once?"

"Nope."

"Well, get up anyway and hit the showers. I'll start breakfast for us."

"French toast?" he asked hopefully.

It was a rare treat to be able to relax for breakfast on a weekday, so I agreed. Alex crawled out of bed and stretched himself, gingerly, still unsure of just how well he could move his tired and tortured joints. His cute behind was still purple and deeply bruised. He wouldn't be sitting down today.

"When you're done, I want you to get dressed."

"Don't you want me naked?" he asked in mock innocence, splaying his arms out in a playful gesture before realizing how much it hurt.

"You'll be naked alright," I replied, throwing a pillow at him, "but only when I say. Now get marching. I'll unlock your closet for you."

Alex threw the pillow right back, gave me his trademark bow, and tried his best to follow my orders. His march was more of a stiff shuffle. I lay there in bed until I heard the water running, then dressed, unlocked the door to the closet that held the boy's clothes, and made my way downstairs. The snow was still falling, and the wind was howling. A nice day to stay inside with my wonderful boy.

I was just putting the French toast on the griddle when Alex appeared. His hair was still wet and he hadn't bothered to brush it. He'd put on a worn and comfortable pair of jeans, holes in the knees and just tight enough to show him off in all the right places, and he was wearing the leather vest I'd bought him for his thirteenth birthday. It was a bit too fancy for school, but he'd worn it out to restaurants over button-down collared shirts, and it was required apparel for visits with Robert and Michael. This time he had nothing on underneath, just his beautiful bare skin, its youth and softness accentuated by the dark leather. It went well with his collar and cuffs.

"Damn, you're sexy," I said with an appreciative whistle.

He gave me a bright smile and we shared a deep and passionate kiss.

"Coffee?" he asked as he took two mugs from their pegs under the counter.

"Sure."

He poured mine black, then mixed his own with large quantities of milk and sugar.

"That's not coffee," I said, gazing down at the almost white liquid in his cup.

"Is for me."

We took everything in the living room to watch the latest on the storm. Alex knelt beside me as I sat on the couch. I offered him the cushion next to me, but he rubbed his rear end, winced, and politely refused.

We spent most of the day doing absolutely nothing. At his suggestion we did bundle up and go outside for a while, where I got pelted with snowballs and where we made a rather obscene snowman.

"Shit, he's even bigger than you," he exclaimed as we shaped the frosty fellow's most prominent feature.

"But I won't melt in your mouth," I replied.

Alex gave me a wicked smile, dropped to his knees and sucked the snowman's cock.

"You really are incorrigible," I said, pulling him to his feet.

"Thanks!" he replied.

"That wasn't a compliment, you shameless hornball."

I got a snowball square in the chest for that one.

Back indoors it was hot chocolate and warm blankets for us, then he went off to play video games for a while. I put a stew on for dinner as the bleeps and sound effects echoed through the two- hundred-year-old house. An incongruity that made me smile.

Things suddenly got quiet, which often made me nervous, or at least curious, where Alex was concerned. Putting on my most nonchalant attitude, I wandered back into the living room. He was on the sofa, wrapped in the old quilt, his head buried in the pages of the latest fantasy adventure to catch his eye. I understood his love for those kinds of stories. In fantasy, boys get to be heroes, they get to do amazing things on incredible journeys. Of course, Alex' real-life journey has been rather incredible too.

He looked up from his book as I sat down beside him.

"Good reading, kiddo?" I asked.

"Yep. You should write some stuff like this."

"Think so?"

"Hell, I'd read it."

I squeezed his bare feet and winked at him. "I know who my main character would be."

"Let me guess…" he replied with a sly grin.

"The Amazing Alex," I proclaimed.

He laughed.

"Problem is I wouldn't know what powers to give him."

Alex looked at me deeply. "He doesn't have any. That's what makes him special."

I didn't know what to say to that, but I did know I'd one day write his story. And Alex does have a certain magic, a way of touching peoples' lives in ways they never could have imagined. He's never seen it in himself, but everyone he's close to feels it every day.

"Ready for dinner?" I asked.

"Starving."

"Stand up."

The tone of my voice was our quiet signal. He looked at me for a moment, gave me a little smile, then put his book down. He got to his feet, leaving the quilt behind on the sofa. Alex stood at attention with his arms at his sides.

"Go upstairs and take your clothes off. I want you to put your vest back on, and a jockstrap, the leather one… the new one," I added, since he had several of them now.

His young eyes flashed. He'd only worn that particular combination a few times, but he loved the way it looked and felt.

"Bring me your thigh cuffs, and your plug."

"Yes, sir. Anything else, sir?"

I was feeling rather kinky this evening. "Put on your high- tops, your black ones. No socks."

"Yes, sir." And he was off.

Alex had learned to hide his excitement. In the early days of our journey together he would have torn up the stairs and thundered around above my head getting himself ready. No longer. His lean graceful from climbed the steps, slowly, purposefully, drawing out this moment of anticipation as long as he could, for both of us.

He was taking his time today. I didn't mind. I heard the shower running. He's making himself clean for me. Thirty minutes later he came down the steps again and stood before me, his hair dried and glistening with gel, his plug in one hand, the thigh cuffs in the other. He set them down on the floor at his feet.

"Let me look at you," I said softly as the fire crackled and began to light the room in the coming of evening. Alex smiled at me, a dreamy expression on his gentle face.

He was gorgeous, this beautiful boy, his firm slender athletic body glowing in the firelight. The leather was perfect on him, all in black. His collar with its shining metal studs, his cuffs an attractive accent to his slim boyish wrists and ankles, his special vest. His jockstrap. This one did not have an opening for his cock and balls. Everything was tucked neatly away in an ample pouch. He ran his left hand over it, softly, gently, and let out a satisfied sigh. Alex loved the feel of leather against his skin. The look of it, the smell of it. It was intoxicating to him.

I picked up his thigh cuffs and returned them to his hands.

"Oh, yeah," I heard him whisper. He moved closer to me. Fresh and clean he smelled, and he'd used a bit of my cologne, something he rarely did. Just a hint, nothing to overpower his delicate boyish scent.

I rubbed his thighs with my hands, massaging them, squeezing the wiry developing muscles beneath the soft smooth skin. I circled my fingers around his knees, making him gasp softly. He spread his legs apart for me. I took the left cuff and buckled it around his thigh, clicking the padlocks in place. The right followed.

His eyes were watering by the time I'd finished.

"You always make me feel so special," he said, his young emotions getting the better of him.

"I don't have to do anything to make you special, Alexander."

He was about to hug me, but I held up the butt-plug in my hands. He nodded. Plugging him had always been a somber serious moment. Alex bent over and grabbed his ankles. I leaned in and licked his young hole with my tongue. The boy moaned in delight and wiggled his hips.

"I'm not going to use any lube this time, sweetie," I whispered, as I pressed the silvery metal plug against his opening. "This is going to hurt you."

He took in a sharp breath. "I'm ready, master."

Alex cried out when I forced it in, but he stayed on his feet. I turned him around slowly and wiped the tears from his eyes, drawing him into my arms, bending down to kiss him firmly and roughly on the lips, one hand behind his head, the other squeezing the contents of the leather pouch between his legs. I could feel him getting hard. His breaths quickened.

"Excited, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir," he said in a trembling voice.

"Patience."

"Hug me."

I always followed that particular order. It took him a few minutes to come down from his agitated state. When he was soft again, we made our way into the kitchen. He served me, and knelt at my feet while I took the first few bites. I smiled down at him and a little swat on his rear told him to get up and fix a bowl for himself. He joined me at the table, standing as he always did in the empty space were his chair would have been.

We cleaned up together, which made him very happy. That was always a job he hated.

"Let's go upstairs," I said when we had finished.

He nodded and rested his head against my chest.

In his room, we lit the candles together. He selected several classical pieces he'd been exploring lately, and dropped the discs into his player. His taste in music had definitely improved in recent months.

"You're getting so grown up."

Always sensitive, Alex heard the touch of melancholy in my voice. He took my hand. He raised it and touched it to his collar, holding it there. His silent message was clear.

I stripped him. His vest, his jockstrap, his shoes, until only his collar and his cuffs remained.

"Make yourself hard for me, Alex," I said softly.

The boy carefully fingered his cock, pulling back the foreskin, rubbing himself slowly until his erection was full and throbbing. He took his hands away immediately and put them behind his head. I reached down and stroked him myself, caressing his balls dangling low between his legs.

"Mmmm." Alex' eyes were tightly closed. He bit his lower lip.

"Lie down."

With his cock pointed toward his chin, he walked to the bed and rolled himself onto his back. One at a time I took the chains and attached them to his cuffs, stretching him tightly, spreading him. The expression on his young face was one of absolute trust.

I stroked him again just to keep him hard, and I ran my fingers through the soft sparse growth of pubic hair that had returned above his cock. I'd not shaved him in a few weeks, busy schedules sometimes leaving no room for the smaller rituals.

"Don't you go anywhere," I said.

He pulled against the chains to assure me he was quite secure.

I returned with the gel and razor we kept for this very purpose. Alex lay his head back and closed his eyes. Still so few and so soft, a wispy dusting, it took no time at all, leaving him bare and smooth. With great care I shaved his balls as well, not that they really required it, but I knew he always enjoyed the feeling. The rest of him needed no such attention, but I made a show of it for him, inspecting his body from head to toe. There were in fact a few fine light hairs on his legs, but they were invisible to the casual eye.

"All done." I wiped him off. He smiled and let out a long- held breath, then raised his head from the pillow looking down the length of his outstretched frame. I took the bottle of oil from the nightstand and poured little drops onto his chest and stomach, working the soothing fluid into his skin, letting it pool in his navel. I massaged his arms with it, and his legs.

"Are you warm enough?" I asked. He was shivering.

"Yeah. It just feels so good."

I took his penis into my hands.

"Aaaahh."

"Relax."

"Yes, sir."

Alex was very hard, and already leaking. I kneaded his balls and gave him several quick firm strokes. He moaned and tensed in his bonds. The chains rattled quietly as he pulled and tugged. I ran a finger over his slit, wetting it with his fluid and pressing it to his lips. He suckled frantically as I continued to move his foreskin up and down his throbbing shaft. Little moans and grunts issued from his throat.

I stopped for several minutes, watching him roll his head from side to side as his cock continued to strain, desperate for relief.

And then I took him in my hand again, slowly this time, a soft gentle touch, pausing to swirl my fingers around his swollen crown, glistening in the candlelight. He let out a high-pitched squeal and curled his toes. His body tensed.

I stopped again.

I kept him on edge for nearly an hour before I milked the first drops of seed from his balls. It dribbled out of him onto his stomach, thick and purest white. His eyes were open, staring off in a daze of pleasure and anguish. Another short interlude, and then I did it again, coaxing yet more from him. Alex was panting now, and thrusting his hips up to meet my hand. I jerked him hard and fast. He let out a frantic sob.

"I'm not gonna last," he said between gasping breaths. "I'm gonna cum."

"I know, sweetheart. Just a little longer. Don't let it happen yet."

Quickly I straddled him, while he still had some control. I reached back, gently guiding him into me. I could feel him entering, I could feel his length, his thickness, and I imagined I could feel his warmth. I lowered myself slowly, resting my hands on his thighs. It was done. My Alex was inside me. He gazed at me in confusion and wonder.

The deepest of submissives, I knew he could never bring himself to do this on his own. But he had a right to know what it felt like, a right to share and know the pleasure he had so often given me. The boy's mouth dropped open, but it seemed his voice had left him.

"How does it feel, Lexi?"

His hazel eyes met with mine. "Warm," he whispered.

I leaned forward, my hands gently caressing his sides, rocking slowly back and forth, driving his aching cock deeper each time.

His eyes were wide. And in the midst of almost unbearable pleasure he spoke to me. "I love you."

"Show me," I said, returning his words to him.

"I… I…"

"Cum for me, Alex."

And he did. A powerful orgasm that seemed to come from the depths of the boy's soul. When he was done Alex lay there beneath me, motionless, the most beautiful smile I had ever seen lighting up his sweet and gentle face.

I released him from the chains. Immediately he sat up and threw his arms around me. We embraced. Brothers, lovers, master and slave. Alex moved his hand over my heart. I did the same for him. I could feel it beating beneath his soft skin.

"Who's my boy?" I asked.

"I am."

Then he raised his eyes to me, sensitive, piercing, beautiful. His voice was soft and quiet, but sure. "Your slave forever."

I kissed his forehead, and his cute freckled nose. I turned him over gently and removed his plug. I made love to him, long into the night, the only sounds his delicate moans and joyful sobs. I was still inside him when he fell asleep in my arms.

'Your slave forever'. Alex had meant that with all of his heart, but I knew it could never be true. Time was taking him away from me, more and more each day, slowly, without the boy's knowledge. When he said those words, he believed them. I was not sad. This is how it is supposed to be. I gazed at his sleeping face, so gentle, so intelligent, and still so young. My boy. My slave. My Alex.

I decided I would enjoy forever, for as long as it was mine to keep.

Well, gentle readers, that's it. Alex and Steve need some time to themselves for a while, and I need to move on to other things. It has been a joy sharing their adventures with you, and I'm happy Alex has touched so many of you in special ways. He has always been a part of me, and always will be.
Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to write and share your thoughts and encouragement since this journey began. Alex and I have made a lot of new friends! Thanks especially to Nick, Spokes, and Ghostwriter_XYZ who've challenged me and made me think, to Josh who keeps me smiling, and of course to Scott, the love of my life with whom I have everything and without whom Alex could not exist.
Alex has a whole lifetime ahead of him, and I am sure we'll see him again. Bye for now.

Istari

The End