Chapter Twenty-One

The shiny new Flexible Flyer sled was the highlight of my birthday: Aunt Peg is the best godmother anyone could have. I cannot wait for snow to try it out, but that will be months away. My father was silent; I was nervous and occasionally looked down at that end of the table, quickly looking away if he looked back at me. My brothers were all there, more interested in the cake than anything. Usually when someone is done eating, they jump up and leave, but not today.

After cake, I called Aunt Peg to thank her, and then grandma, who tells me she has an envelope for me and I should stop by. I know she will have cookies too. The batter will be in the refrigerator when I arrive and she will put little balls on a baking sheet with parchment paper; cookies bake quickly and are the best when warm and gooey, and she will have a tall glass of milk at the ready to wash them down. I told her I would stop by tomorrow after school.

My plan is to ride my bike downtown after school to check the Phoenix and then to grandma's; and invite myself to dinner at her house. MB already told me he will see me next Monday, but I want to read more stuff from the personals; they are interesting. I should deposit that fifty-dollar bill, but it looks so cool, that I want to hold on to it for a bit longer.

***

Saturday morning has arrived and I am looking forward to meeting Mark; maybe things will be different this time, maybe he will fuck me. I do not feel as anxious as I had before, now that I know there are other men out there who will indulge my fantasies and better yet, pay me. Lying in bed, I think about the sideshow at the carnival this past summer and all the weird stuff I saw, imagining a smorgasbord of sex instead of those odd people like the sword swallower, I think swallowing a man's cock would be better.

"Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this is Leather Boy, he loves a good old-fashioned spanking, and behind our next curtain is Lover Boy."

Lover Boy is not weird, that is what sex is supposed to be like, I have seen it before on TV: man embraces women, they kiss passionately, they hug, they head to the bedroom and then the next camera scene shows both enjoying a cigarette while sitting in bed. I know what happens in between, that part is in the magazines, they strip, they French kiss some more, the man maneuvers the woman into bed … man on top, woman on bottom… With a boy would be better; I wonder why people think that is taboo, I certainly do not.

French kissing, I used to think that was when someone kisses you on both cheeks, because that is something the French do when they greet someone, but now I know it is open mouthed and you put your tongue into each other's mouth. It seems gross to me, but maybe there is something to it. I would much prefer a cock in my mouth, I like the shape and the silky smoothness, it is like licking an ice pop, except warm and it gets bigger the more you lick, not smaller.

"Sissy Boy, ladies and gentlemen…"

Maybe I could do that, but it really is not me, I am all boy, rough and tough.

Inside the big tent, as one curtain closes, the crowd moves along to the next one as the carnie guy announces the next attraction with fanfare and a booming voice. There is Girlie Boy, dressed in sexy lingerie, and as he moves provocatively on the small and low stage, my thoughts drift to the time I was told to leave that part of the downtown department store. I was curious. Now, he is doing one of those pole dances; I have seen pictures of those in the magazines, but they were women. This is way better, and he suddenly grabs my attention as he begins to remove what little clothing he is wearing. Rubbing his pole on that shiny steel pole. My pole is hard as a rock right now.

Then Houseboy, dressed like a French maid, Slut Boy, with the longest tongue I have ever seen, Boy Master, dressed in leather with a crop in his hand, and several props on the small stage, a wooden horse, an X-cross, and chains and ropes hanging down from bars overhead.

Finally, "Slave Boy, ladies and gentlemen, ready and willing to satisfy your deepest and darkest desires."

Now that is more like it, boy on his knees, wearing his uniform: ankle and wrist cuffs along with a nice leather collar. With slave boys, there is so much more fun that can happen, not the plain old "man on top get it over with quick." My thoughts go back to Mark and our ride up Unger Mountain, peeing my pants, naked in public, putting my shorts on just before that station wagon full of kids passed by. Then no underpants, sitting on that rock, knowing people could see my privates, but looking like an innocent boy sitting on a rock. The strange and mysterious Mr. Smith. Later, naked in the field, sucking Master's cock. There is so much more fun to being a slave boy.

"Hey, you're doing it again!"

Damn Twerp, I thought he was still sleeping. Yes, I am stroking my dicky and lost in my thoughts before having to get up. I have my underpants pulled down below my balls with my left hand and my right hand is doing that motion that the boys at the corner do, only they do it in the air, not for real, but under my covers, I am doing it for real. I say nothing. With my left thumb, I bring my underpants back up over my dicky, and get out of bed.

"Ha-ha, you have a boner, I can see it, you were playing with yourself again, I'm going to tell."

Stepping over to his bed, I punched him in the stomach and walked out. I need to pee and I hope it goes down by the time I reach the bathroom.

***

Meeting Mark, I do not have Twerp's underpants on; he stayed in bed and kept a keen eye on me as I dressed to go out. The mornings are cool now, and I decide to wear jeans and a T-shirt. Maybe Mark will not notice and just tell me to strip.

"Happy birthday."

"Thank you, Master."

I am secretly hoping today will be a special day, but I do not say anything more. I remember my lessons from the past few weeks. A slave boy does not question his Master and does not speak unless given permission.

We head north on Upper Main Street, not the direction to Mark's house, so I wonder if we are going back up to Unger Mountain. I want to ask, but I do not. Mark is quiet, and has not said anything about taking my jeans and underpants off, which is fine. He has the top up on the convertible because it is cool outside, although it should be warm by noon time, maybe hot.

As we approach the road that goes up to Unger Mountain, Mark slows down, but instead of turning right, he takes the road to the left. I know this road; it goes to one of the ski areas that I have been to many times. Passing the ski area, I no longer know where we are going or where this road leads to. It snakes through a narrow valley following the path of a small river that has me lost; I no longer know what direction we are headed, as the road winds in one direction and then another. The river is on our left and the steep slope of the hills to our right. Occasionally, we pass a house that seems to have carved a spot out of the side of the mountain and the dense trees.

Crossing a rusty bridge, there is a sign halfway that shows the state line, the state where the porn shop is, where Mr. Smith's license plate is from. Soon, the hills give way to open farm fields and we are on a main road again, only to turn off onto another back road with trees and a small brook. The road to the porn shop. We took a back road, as they say.

Mark tells me to duck down onto the floor. We keep driving, but it is obvious we are here, as the car slows and turns. The pavement turns to dirt. We wrap around in a big circle. I think we are at the back of the store, not parked out front. Mark shifts the car into park and turns it off before rolling his window down. We sit and wait in silence.

The last time I was here, I did sneak a look. The porn shop used to be someone's house, hence the long farmer's porch on a 1-1/2 storey Colonial style with three dormers and a metal roof.

I hear a noise, from the house, a door, as Master tells me, "Don't move until I say you can."

Mark gets out as I stay balled up on the passenger's side floor of the car. He is not gone long, and when he returns, he leans in the window and says, "Strip, and stay hidden."

Mark opens the trunk as I take off my clothes, a small struggle in this position while wearing jeans, but not too difficult. When he returns, he throws my wrist and ankle cuffs at me and says, "Put these on."

Super excited, I can only think that I will be allowed into the store, but naked? What about other people? This does not make sense to me. As I struggle to put the right cuff on with my left hand, a thought pops into my head, I am thinking about me, and not my Master, one of the two big things he said I needed to improve, the other one being trust.

Master did say "Happy birthday," this morning; I think, Don't mess this up! And I keep repeating Master in my head, not Mark, I need to get this right this time, and I must trust my Master, that was the other big thing that disappointed him, my lack of trust, my hesitancy when he gives me an order, and sometimes questioning him.

The butterflies in my stomach start to flutter. I wonder what is going to happen. Will I really be able to go into that porn shop? What will I see in there? Certainly, the books and magazines that Mark – I mean Master – has been buying. They must have some of the other stuff he has bought too, like the whips and paddles, oh, and the dildos, in different sizes. But what else? Maybe those 8mm movies that were mentioned in the Phoenix. I still have not mentioned those.

I do not have long to wait.

"Ok, get out of the car." Said as Mark opened the passenger door.

With a bit of trepidation, maybe having to turn around and raise myself up so I could exit the car, I got out, and the first thing I noticed was the stones digging into the bottom of my feet. We were at the back. Standing up, I stepped away from the car as Mark – damn, Master – closed the door. Looking around, it was secluded, and there, on the small back porch, standing at the door, was Mr. Smith. I thought there was something strange with that whole episode on Unger Mountain, and the out-of-state license plate did give me a clue.

Self-consciously, I kept bringing my hands to cover my groin, and then taking them away just as quickly. This was off-the-wall crazy, not only am I completely naked, outdoors, in public, about to go into a store – I hope – but I am also wearing cuffs. Silently, I follow Master up the wooden steps and onto the porch, where I stand behind my Master. Am I nervous? You bet.

"Hello, Andy."

So, Mr. Smith's first name is Andy, and will I hear a different last name?

"Hello, Mark, glad you made it, and I see your boy does not need to worry about wetting his pants today." Mr. Smith chuckled at his own joke.

"No, he should be a good boy today. I am expecting him to be on his best behavior; I have high hopes that he has learned his lesson and won't have to be punished."

Again, they are talking about me as if I am not there, as if I am just an object, or maybe a dog, a well-trained dog that obeys his Master. I do want to be exceptionally good today, so good that Mark finally gives me a slave collar; that is what all the real slave boys wear and cherish, a symbol that they are owned, that they know how to please their Master. In all the pictures, all the stories, the boy is wearing a slave collar. I could be just any boy without one, a nobody, but with one, I am a slave boy, I belong to someone, I am someone.

In the stories I have read this past summer, boys are proud to be wearing their collar. It is a symbol: a badge of honor. Some slave boys in the stories wear a braided leather choker all the time, a constant reminder of who they are when they are out in public or not with their Master. Sure, some boys wear medals around their neck, held with a lanyard, with a cross or favorite saint, and a few do wear leather braided necklaces, big enough to slip off. For them, it is just a fashion statement, like those bracelets some people wear, the ones woven onto your wrist using string.

A choker though is tight around the neck, it is proudly worn high up, readily seen, not hidden under a shirt. I think if it were braided on, then it would not come off. Not like the chokers with a clasp at the back. My mind digresses, as it always does, I wonder if women wear them to show other men that they are owned, by another man, like an engagement or wedding ring. Rings are not as easily seen, but a choker makes a statement, one that can be seen across a room, from a distance. It announces who you are as you enter; it turns heads, you are noticed.

"Boy, are you listening?"

"Sorry, Mr. Smith, I did not hear what you said."

Lost in my thoughts was helping me to stand there while Master and Mr. Smith were talking. Now I am reminded that I am outside, naked, wearing cuffs, but not a real slave boy, as I do not have a collar, and standing next to two men who are fully clothed.

"I don't want any accidents in the store. Go down there and pee." Mr. Smith was pointing at a grassy spot just off the porch.

Mark then turned and looked down at me, expecting me to obey. This was super embarrassing, two grown men talking about me as if I was a puppy and they were concerned I would pee on the floor inside. I did not have to go, but not having gone since I got up, I was thinking I could at least try to, maybe even a small amount. I was trying to be on my best behavior. I did not want to miss out on something like going into an adult-only porn shop. Down the two wooden steps, I turned to the right, onto the grassy spot in front of the small back porch. I took a couple more steps, so that my back was to Master and Mr. Smith. Turning my head, I saw that both of them were watching me, like an owner watching their dog go, being sure it peed enough before going back inside.

"Why are you shaking?" directed at me. Yes, I was nervous, but also chilly. It was not warm standing outside.

"I'm cold."

"Well, go pee and then maybe we'll go inside."

"Yes, Master."

It was hard to get it started. One, because I could feel them looking at me, and two, because I really did not have to go.

Mr. Smith spoke up, "Turn around, I want to see that you are peeing and not pretending."

This is getting weirder and more embarrassing by the minute. What if someone comes by? What if they do not park at the front of the store? It is hard enough to pee by yourself, but with two men watching? Minutes went by as I strained and struggled. I kept thinking about something else to take my mind off the fact they were watching.

I could see them whispering to each other up on the porch as they watched me. Watching me only made it worse. I needed to pretend they were not there, that I was alone, at the urinal in school.

Mr. Smith was loud enough for me to hear, "Mark, have you marked your property yet?"

"Not yet, we have not done anything like that."

"The sound of running water sometimes helps a boy to get things going, now might be a good time."

Mark then came down off the porch and standing in front of me, he opened his fly, pulled out his cock and started to pee on me. I jumped back as it splashed on my chest and ran down my body and legs. This was unexpected. Sure, I had read about this, but never thought it would happen to me.

"Stand still."

I was flabbergasted. Was this really happening to me? as his stream hit me directly in the balls.

"Turn around."

As I did, Mark let go with another stream that ran down my back and into the crack of my butt. He then peed directly all over my butt before putting his hand on the top of my head, turning it to indicate he wanted me to turn around.

"I have marked you as my property, but you still need to demonstrate to me that you are deserving to be my boy. You need to make a better effort than what you have done these past weeks."

I did not know how to answer, I was still in shock, I did not know if an answer was needed.

Putting his hand atop my head and pushing it back so I was looking up, he asked, "Did that help?"

With a perplexed look on my face, I just continued to look up at him, wondering, Help with what? Do I feel better, knowing that I am his property? Is this just a first step to that fraternity initiation he told me about, the one he went through in college? Was there more to come?

"I asked you a question. Did that help you? Can you pee now?"

Oh, the running water thing. I never understood that, but I knew some people did it, you could hear the water running outside the bathroom, started as soon as they went in, which at first, I thought was weird, because you wash your hands afterwards, not before. "No, Master, I still can't go."

"Well, at least it warmed you up some."

True, the pee was warm, but the gentle breeze quickly cooled it and I felt colder and began to shiver. The smell entered my nostrils, and thankfully it was not pungent. A smell I was familiar with from grammar school, seems the boys' room always smelled that way. Some boys would stand a couple of feet from the urinal and get it on the floor, they were afraid to get too close.

I remember when I was smaller, some boys would lower their pants down to their ankles to pee. I remember doing that before I started school, but then my Aunt Peg, who was told to help me in the bathroom, told me I did not have to do that, I just needed to open the front of my pants. Oh, the time I almost fell into the toilet at grandma's house. Those seats were so big, I had to hold myself up over the bowl with both hands on the seat, otherwise, my butt would just fall right in. It was a good thing Aunt Peg was there, just in case.

Mark had returned to the porch when Mr. Smith said loud enough for me to hear, "Maybe I should try to help."

Thinking about other stuff, like the boys' room, and when I was little, helped, and with a good strong muscle push on my bladder, a stream started. It was enough to get things going, and soon I was peeing in front of Master and Mr. Smith. Looking up, I saw them looking down at me off the porch. I did it.

Cold and shivering, I did not know what to do next and just stood there.

"Mark, you need to hose your boy off, the hose is right there, next to the propane tank. I'll go in and get a towel; I don't want him dripping on the floor."

The water was freezing, it felt like the water at the state forest pond, the spring-fed-pond at the picnic area that no adult would go in. I was shivering uncontrollably, rubbing my arms as fast as I could to generate some warmth, turning around as Master used his index finger, pointing downward in a circle motion. It was obvious he wanted me to keep turning as the spray from the hose washed me down.

When Mr. Smith returned with a towel. I was crying. It just happened. My rough and toughness was not so tough right now. I dried off and stood there with the towel wrapped around my shoulders. I was freezing cold.

"Time to go in, boy. Use that towel to dry your feet before coming in, I don't want you tracking piss and dirt inside."

***

Inside the back door to our left was a kitchen in the corner of the house. It looked old fashion with a short built-in cabinet along the inside wall, with glass doors up top, a small counter space and wooden doors below the counter. No drawers. On the outside wall there was a stand-alone sink below the only window with a heavy shade pulled down, on the outside I did see that it had bars across it, like in those big cities. The washing machine was next to the sink. I never saw one in the kitchen before and there was no dryer. The stove was by itself against the other outside wall to the side of the house. It was cast iron and looked like it used wood before being converted to propane. A table was in the middle with four chairs around it. To the right, there was a doorway that was walled up. Probably the dining room.

"Put the towel in the washing machine."

I did, and when I turned back around, Master said, "Erik, say thank you to Mr. Smith for letting you come in."

Still shivering, I say "Thank you," to Mr. Smith.

"Can you show him your appreciation? Do I need to be specific? It's a big deal letting you in here, boys your age are not allowed and Mr. Smith is taking a big chance letting you come in."

Oh, I know what that means, I am still a bit slow, but today I am determined more than ever and I kneel in front of him.

Looking up, "Mr. Smith, can I please show you my appreciation? Can I suck your man cock?"

Mr. Smith looks at Mark, and says, "He has improved since the last time we met, you're teaching him well." He then looks down at me and says, "You may pull it out carefully and kiss the head to thank me."

Unzipping his fly, I work my hand inside his boxers, yes, boxers, only old men wear boxers. My father wears boxers. Anyone younger than my father wears briefs. Mark wears briefs. If anyone wears boxers at school, they are laughed at. His dick slides out easily from that big front flap and it is hard as I look up and say, "Thank you, Mr. Smith," before planting a kiss on the head. I stay kneeling.

"Tell me, Mark, does your boy swallow man cum?"

"Yes, I think he rather likes it; he says he likes the salty taste."

"That's good, some boys will eat their own, but choke on the thicker stuff."

At that, Mr. Smith put his cock back into his pants and zips up, before heading through the wooden door to the front part of the house. Master gave me a head nod to follow.

***

It was amazing, the front of the house had been opened up, and there was row after row of stuff, but it was mostly busty women and men with monster size cocks either fucking a woman or getting sucked from what I could see. The windows were all boarded up, including the double front doors. There was a single light bulb hanging down on a wire from the ceiling, otherwise it would have been pitch dark. I looked around to see if anyone else was in the store. That would be scary. I did not see anyone; I wonder if the store is not open yet … that must be it … it is not open yet. And yes, there are other lights on the ceiling, they are not turned on. Along the far side wall, there are doors, lots of doors, like the stalls in the boys' room at school, about the same width too. They have signs on them, but they are too far away to read. I wonder what those are for.

Going through a curtain, we enter a back room, the one next to the kitchen. This is more like it. It is filled with all kinds of stuff, leather chaps, like the cowboys wear, leather bikinis for I guess the women, cotton ropes, ball gags, and other strange stuff. Some I had seen in the magazines, like the spreader bar, I knew what that was. There were dildos shaped like cocks; the ones Master bought were smooth, those were there too, along with the anal plugs … ugh, I remember that, as an odd feeling in my butt came back, but just for a moment. Cock rings, whatever those are, I was just reading the package. Then I spotted them, slave collars, in with the whips and crops, a cat-o'-nine-tails, paddles too, all kinds of paddles. Handcuffs, wrist cuffs, blindfolds… Wow, jackpot!

In the far-left corner, on a small book shelf I spotted the magazines with men only, and books with men and boys, although the boys looked more like men and were pencil drawings, not the real thing. On the boarded-up doorway to the kitchen, there is a sign that says, "Leather Customization Available."

Mr. Smith stops there and turns to Mark, "Well, I understand you want to buy your boy a birthday present; at his size, I will have to make adjustments."

"Yes, a nice collar, black, shiny black, and it has to be engraved with the word slave. I also want a leather body harness to match."

"Ok, show me what you want and then we'll go downstairs to my leather workshop."

At that, Master picked out a few leather harnesses and held them up to me, like my mother would do with a new shirt to get a feel for how it might look. The collar matched my cuffs, black and shiny, so now I know, he already knew which collar, it was obviously a set, and apparently, I have no choice.

Down the cellar stairs we went next. There was a large wooden table with leather-working tools on it. Nearby were rolls of leather, different colors and sizes, and bins with grommets and other stuff. On a row of shelves were finished and partially finished items.

"I make all my own leather products to sell upstairs. Cheaper than buying from a distributor and better quality too."

"Yes, the cuffs I bought for my boy were definitely high quality."

"The wood shop is over there, I make some simple stuff for upstairs, but nothing fancy, paddles mostly, and I use a wooden dowel to make the handles for the whips, before I wrap them in leather."

Mr. Smith looked at me and said, "I knew it was your birthday, so I made you a present. It is over there where I do my wood working."

Master spoke up, "You did not have to do that."

"I like the boy, he has a body that would make any man drool, he just needs to learn his place, and he'll do fine."

Mr. Smith led me over to the wood working area where there was a three-legged stool – with a dowel stuck in the middle.

"I bought the stool, and then drilled a hole in the middle for the dowel. It's glued in tight and secured with another wood piece on the bottom so it's nice and rigid and won't push down."

I did not know what to make of it. I stood there. Was I supposed to sit on it with that dowel between my legs?

"There's grease right there, boy, grease it up for me and then sit on it."

Oh, it dawned on me, it was the size of a dildo, smooth with a rounded top. I did as I was told and greased it up, leaving a dollop on the top. As they watched, I eased myself down on that wooden rod until I was seated all the way. It felt strange, but not bad. Every time I moved it poked me on the inside.

"Helps to open 'em up."

"I like it, he'll have to thank you for it properly."

"Let's get this harness and collar sized right first."

Using his hands around my neck, like he was going to choke me, Mr. Smith was able to gage what he needed to do for my collar. He said only my Master could put it on or take it off. I had to stand up as he went to work on the harness, adjusting it and then making marks on the leather before taking it back to his workbench to adjust the location of the buckles and then trimming the leather straps to a shorter length.

Each time Mr. Smith came back, I had to stand and then when he was finished, I was told to sit back down, which I did not mind, getting up and down on that stool became easier. I liked it as I eased myself back onto it. The smile on my face must have given it away. I also liked all the attention on me too. My dicky was rock hard.

Wearing my new harness and with my cuffs still on, but not my collar, I stood before Master and Mr. Smith; I was happy and did a sexy twirl for them. As nothing was said, I kept going, putting on a tease show. Their eyes were glued on me as I bent down showing off my boy pussy while looking back at them. I played with my tits, I pushed out my dicky and made that humping motion. I was having fun. Finally, I ended the show and stood at attention.

"You have a real cock tease there, Mark."

"Yes, he does enjoy doing strip dances with good music, but I know you have to open the store soon, so I think it's time for him to do more than that."

"Ah, yes, the store. Well, why don't you head upstairs and see if there is anything else you need while I finish up here."

Mr. Smith asked me if I liked the stool he made, and I told him I did. He had me sit back down as he undid his fly. No words were needed as I thanked Mr. Smith while still seated on the stool, that is what he wanted, not me kneeling in front of him. It did not take long, probably ten minutes, as I worshiped his cock, especially that spot just below the head on the underside. He liked the way I flicked my tongue across it before taking his cock into my mouth as far as I could. When I came back up, I looked up at him while using my tongue along the length of his rod. I made sure both my hands were at work on his cock and balls too, not on mine. My right hand was wrapped around his fat cock, the fattest one I had seen so far outside of the ones in the magazines, as I used slow short strokes down at the base. With my left hand, I gently kneaded his balls. I wanted today to go so well that Mark would have to give me my collar.

I did like this stool, as my head bobbed up and down on Mr. Smith's cock, my body rocked gently with the motion and the peg teased my insides making me hornier, if that was even possible.

All my efforts paid off as I took a full load down my throat, swallowing quickly as the taste was not as good as Mark's or MB's. My head jerked involuntarily, as I looked up at Mr. Smith, like I had just swallowed something nasty. I forced a smile and then opened my mouth to show Mr. Smith any cum that might still be there before wiping the back of my hand across my mouth and swallowing again to rid my mouth of the taste. I did not know men's cum could taste so different.

We were headed back upstairs, me carrying my stool, when a loud banging stopped me in my tracks.

"Nothing to worry about, just the first customer of the day banging on the front door. I live upstairs, and he probably thinks I'm still sleeping. I'll get your Master and you can use the cellar bulkhead to go out the back."

Master and I went to the cellar bulkhead, me behind, and after Master made sure the coast was clear, I darted to the open car door and in one motion, ducked in while handing Master my stool. The stool went into the open trunk.

Balled up on the floor, I was not told to put my clothes back on as we drove off.

***

"Put your T-shirt on and you can sit up on the seat."

I slipped my T-shirt over the harness and sat up to see that we were taking the main road back. I liked the feel of the harness, and started thinking about all the cool things we could do. I wonder what Mark has in mind, as those butterflies in my stomach returned from thinking about it, or was it just growling because it was lunchtime…

Mark was quiet, like on the ride up, and I thought about how Mr. Smith must sleep in late every day, as that customer thought he might be sleeping. That would be great, not having to get up early to go to school.

"I was very proud of you today, and Mr. Smith said you were very good as well."

A warm feeling swathed over my body, I wanted today to be perfect, not like before, and I did it, so far that is.

Master turned onto a dirt road and we were back in the woods. I wondered where we were going but stopped myself from asking. A slave boy does not question. It was not long before we stopped in the middle of nowhere, easy to do around these parts.

"Get out and follow me."

Mark grabbed a duffle bag from the trunk and into the woods we went, not along a trail, just into the woods. Coming to a small clearing, Mark took out his camera from the duffle bag, and took a few pictures of me from the waist up. He had me move to different spots to get the right background and lighting. He wanted a picture that he did not have to hide. Then he pulled out his camera tripod and set the timer on the camera to take a picture with both of us, with him standing beside me and his arm draped across my shoulder.

"My nephew on his 12th birthday. I'll have to frame this one for my living room, so I can see you every day."

Uncle Mark, I thought, yes, we could do things together. Like father and son. I was beaming for the picture.

A blanket and lunch under the warm mid-day sun was making this a perfect day.

"Tell me what it is that you most wanted from me for your birthday."

"To be your boy, to be owned by you."

"To be my slave boy?"

"Yes, Master, and I would wear that collar proudly."

"Well, I was proud of you today, and glad you decided that, I wasn't sure you would after the way things have gone recently, especially the marking ceremony."

"The marking ceremony?"

"Yes, when I marked you as my property."

"Oh, that, yes, I did not enjoy that, but it wasn't so bad afterwards, except when you hosed me off, I was freezing."

"You took it like a champ and did not complain. Mr. Smith remarked the same to me. Tell me, and I think you know from all the reading and talking we did over the summer. What do you need to promise me to be my slave boy?"

"I promise to always be obedient and never question my Master, he knows what is best for me.

"I promise to be disciplined in all my efforts and disciplined by my Master when I am not or it gives him pleasure.

"I promise to be docile, and follow all commands without hesitation, whether spoken or given silently with a simple gesture.

"I promise to be focused on my Master's needs at all times, doing my best to satisfy and take care of my Master above my own needs or comfort."

Master was smiling at me, in a way that made me feel good about myself, feelings I never had before. Today was a special day, and I never wanted it to end.

"You did well; besides having a gorgeously beautiful body, an angelic face, you are super smart."

"Thank you, Master, I love you."

I do not know why I just said that, it just slipped out, my emotions right now are out of control, that is not like me, not like how I was brought up. At home, showing emotions is frowned upon, my mother, my father, my older brothers would scowl at me, Are you emotionally disturbed? They would make fun of me. Crying was not allowed. We did not hug, my mother did not kiss us goodnight, there were no bedtime stories, no snuggling. If you were hurt, it was man-up.

"As your Master, I will always love you too, and cherish you, and protect you."

Tears started to flow; I could not help it.

A tense look appeared on Marks face, "What's wrong?"

Softy I answered, "Nothing, nothing is wrong, I'm just so happy right now."

"Well, that's good, I was worried. Come here."

Master took me into his arms and hugged me. He had done this before, on the blanket up on Unger Mountain. I felt good in his arms as I started to relax. Sitting on the blanket, in Master's lap, he gently pulled me in, rubbing my shoulder and thigh as I rested my head on his chest. It was not long before he planted a kiss on the top of my head.

I responded by kissing him on the cheek. Not a peck, but a real kiss. Mark kissed me back on the lips, a long kiss that kept going. It was marvelous. New sensations swept across my body, and before I knew it, we were French kissing and now I know why so many people did it.

It did not take long before Master was fondling my dink and pulling off my T-shirt. He just about ripped his own clothes off before taking me on the blanket, on top, kissing me madly, he moved down to my chest, licking, kissing, and biting my nipples before moving on to my belly and down to my groin. I was hot too, we both could not wait, only Mr. Smith had been satiated today. Master was giving me a blowjob! Lifting my legs up, he sucked in my balls, before moving to my taint. It was incredible, this was the first time he had ravished me.

With both of Master's hands on my calves, he raised me up further and brought his throbbing man cock to my winking hole. He thrust in fast and hard. It is a good thing I was opened up and greased up – I love that stool. This was the best fuck of my life. Master leaned into me and we French kissed non-stop. It did not take long before I felt his man cock throbbing inside my boy pussy, about to release its load deep into my bowels. My body responded in kind, as my own orgasm started and I squeezed his cock with my gluteus muscles. I felt his cum spraying deep inside me, first one, then another, it kept going, gradually decreasing to small spirts. For me, the intensity kept building, as I did not shoot yet, maybe a dribble of the clear stuff.

As Master relaxed, he left his cock buried in my hole and we kissed and hugged tenderly. I kept my arms wrapped around his neck; I did not want him to get up. Eventually, he put his head down beside mine and we just snuggled as I felt his hard cock inside me, no longer moving in and out.

Master rolled us over, staying in me, so that I was now on top resting comfortably on his chest, feeling it rise and fall with every breath, gradually becoming shallower. I could not resist planting a few more kisses on his lips, as I felt his cock start to deflate.

The euphoria I was feeling, lasted for some time as we just lay together, lost in our thoughts, resting. It could have been 15 or 20 minutes later, a long time, as I felt Master's cock hardening again. Raising my head and using my thumbs to lift his eyelids, I said, "Ready to take me again, Master?"

Looking back at me, Master smiled, before pulling me in and planting a kiss on my lips, a good long one, but without the tongue. As I wrapped my hands around the side of his head, he wrapped his arms around my back squeezing me tightly, I felt wonderful. The saying, "man on top, get it over with quick," flashed across my mind as I let out a chuckle.

"What's funny? Slave boy."

"Oh, nothing, I was thinking about something I heard, 'man on top, get it over with quick,' and I was thinking this is 'boy on top,' but I definitely don't want it to end quickly," as I smiled and chuckled again.

"Well, get to work, then, and slowly if you want me to last. You're the slave."

That I did, raising myself up with both knees on the ground at his sides, my hands on his chest to steady me; slowly going up and down on my Master, feeling his stiffening cock inside me, doing my duty. I stretched straight up, arching my back so the full weight of my body pushed down on the rod penetrating my boy pussy, going as deep as possible, hitting that special spot. I paused, as warm fuzzies swept through me.

Master grabbed my chest with both hands, his thumbs working my tits, I pumped up and down, picking up the tempo into a flurry. I must be having another orgasm, unlike any I had experienced before, this was incredible. I never thought it could get better, well, maybe when I could finally shoot, but this was fantastic. The sweat poured down my face and dripped onto Master's belly; I raised my head skyward, and felt the heat of the sun on my face. This is what heaven must be like, not those pictures we see in catechism.

Master howled as I felt squirt after squirt hitting my insides again. The feeling was amazing. I collapsed onto Master's chest again, hearing his heart pounding, his heavy breathing, as he again wrapped his arms around me and we both just enjoyed the moment.

I do not know how much time passed when Master whispered into my ear, "Time for your birthday present."

***

Master wanted it to be a special ceremony, and told me to hold his sperm inside me and lie on my stomach, as he reached into the duffle bag and pulled out that anal plug. It went in with a hard push; that fat part is fatter than any cock or dildo.

"We have to capture this moment with pictures too."

Master wound up the film in the camera, telling me he had a color roll of film for the pictures of him and me that he would have developed at the pharmacy, enlarged, and framed, but had to use black and white for the pictures he developed himself.

Using the tripod, he set up the shot, me on my knees, with my harness and cuffs, getting the right angle to capture that plug in the picture.

This was the moment, I felt nervous and proud, as Master stood before me, putting the slave collar around my neck, not buckling it, just holding both ends around my neck, waiting for the camera to click.

"Repeat your oath, slave."

"Yes, Master,

"I promise to always be obedient and never question my Master, he knows what is best for me.

"I promise to be disciplined in all my efforts and disciplined by my Master when I am not or it gives him pleasure.

"I promise to be docile, and follow all commands without hesitation, whether spoken or given silently with a simple gesture.

"I promise to be focused on my Master's needs at all times, doing my best to satisfy and take care of my Master above my own needs or comfort."

This was the moment as Master spoke, "You are my slave boy, I will love and cherish you for as long as you live." Then he buckled the collar around my neck and I felt the weight of it.

I could not be more happy or proud.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Saturday with Mark was the highlight of my weekend. I was finally his slave boy, for real. We finished the day with ice cream from a stand on the way home. I should have felt self-conscious, well, I did feel self-conscious, but also confident that Master knew what he was doing.

As we pulled into the ice cream stand, there were a few cars parked right in front, but we parked a bit away, to the right of the stand at the edge of the parking lot. The summer tourist season had come to a close after the holiday weekend, with the end to the summer weather not too far away. With my jeans and tee shirt back on, I walked barefoot to the furthest picnic table under a copse of trees and sat down as Master ordered at the window. I knew the outline of the harness was visible under my tee shirt, and certainly my ankle and wrist cuffs too, but my collar was now covered with a neckerchief, like the cowboys wear. I sat facing the small building, putting my hands under the table so my cuffs were not in view. The ankle cuffs were less obvious, just poking below the bottom of my jeans.

As I sat there on the hard wooden seat of the picnic table, the butt plug poked me more than it did on the soft cushion seats of Master's car. He told me to leave it in so that I did not leak on the seat of the car, and as an extra precaution, he put a towel down that he had in the trunk. I began to think we just took a big chance. Yes, we did park away, and yes, the passenger side of the car blocked some of the view as I exited and slipped into the picnic area, and yes, the people at the stand were looking up at the menu or ordering at the window, and yes, there was no one sitting in the picnic area right now. Suddenly I felt anxious, all this thinking did it to me. I have to work harder at trusting my Master and do as I am told without thinking about it, either before – or right afterwards, as I now keep looking around, like I am about to be caught doing something I should not be doing.

Master brought me a sundae with vanilla ice cream, hot fudge, and a cherry on top. He never asked, like before, he orders for me. I did like it, I have ordered it myself before, so it is true, Master does know what is best for me.

A family with two kids sat at one of the picnic tables closer to the building, and I slid over on the picnic table so that Master was blocking the view to me, mostly my hands that I needed to eat the ice cream, my right hand holding the spoon and my left holding the cup. I ate quickly, I still felt uncomfortable here.

"Another cherry gone."

"Hah? What do mean?"

"That cherry on your ice cream, now gone, just like yours."

"Why do they say that?"

"It means they have lost their virginity."

"But why a cherry?"

"Because when you pop a girl's hymen for the first time, it bleeds red, cherry red, so, 'Popped her cherry,' is an expression meaning she's no longer a virgin."

"Do boys have a hymen?"

"No, just girls, it's in their vagina."

"So why do they say that about boys?"

"Well, it means the boy has lost his virginity, and some boys do bleed afterwards."

"I didn't bleed. Did I?"

"No, we stretched you, remember I used my finger and then I bought that set of 3 dildos, and we started with the smallest one."

It was time to go and I did not want to get up. I was afraid that family might see my wrist cuffs. Master did not seem concerned. Getting up, I hid my hands behind my back and quickly made my way to the car.

***

Reaching Master's house, I made my way to the back door and stripped down. Master went to the bathroom, as I waited. I had to go too.

Letting me in, I asked for permission to speak.

"Master, mMay I use the bathroom?"

"You need to be more specific. What do you want to use the bathroom for?"

"I need to go."

"I see you need more training. Is it, 'Master, may I use the bathroom to go pee?' Or, is it, 'Master, may I have permission to use the bathroom to poop?'"

Poop was a word that I heard adults use sometimes when referring to a baby, pooping their diaper, but not a boy, we did not say why, we did not even ask, or we would say number 1 or number 2 with friends, but not adults. This was weird talking to an adult about this stuff.

"Master, may I have permission to use the bathroom to pee?"

"No, not right now."

"What?"

"Did you not hear me?"

"Sorry, Master."

Mark was making this harder, he must be learning this stuff from Mr. Smith.

"Stand on the coffee table for inspection."

Taking the position, hands clasped behind my head, legs spread … looking straight out the picture window! That nervy feeling comes over me again, but I keep thinking, the house is set back, there is no sidewalk, and few cars or people out this way.

Mark rubs my butt with his open hand, as his other hand fondles my willy and balls.

"Why are you not hard?"

"I don't know."

"Get hard."

"Yes, Master."

The fondling helps as I try my hardest to get hard; ha, a pun. It works.

"A red butt would look better, and please me. What do you think? slave."

"If it pleases my Master."

I was learning, I did want to be a good slave boy. I do not know why, but just thinking about all the stuff that slave boys and their Masters can do gave me the heebie – jeebies. Strangely, I like the sensations that are now coursing through my body.

"It pleases me."

Master retrieved the rubber paddle from the basement, closed the drapes across the front picture window, and the paddling began while I stood there. Slow with rubs in between. It did not hurt at first, but as it continued, and Master remarked on the redness, it began to sting, even though the hits were not harder. It was that sunburn effect again. I took it like the champ that I was. Not until the end, did I start to really feel the pain and groan with every whack. Master did not go further; it was not his intention to turn me into a whimpering, bawling mess, just to add color.

After admiring his handiwork, Master stripped his clothes off and pointed to the floor in front of him. Without hesitation, I knelt down and asked permission to suck his cock. It was obvious that is what he wanted, but important for me to ask.

"You may lick my balls."

Slathering them with my tongue, I bent down low so that I was looking up at my Master, his cock draped across my forehead, his balls resting on my nose as I worked lower. My thoughts were on my Master, but also me. I wanted today to be perfect, I wanted to be fucked again, I liked the feelings it gave me, the sensations that coursed through me. Catching myself drifting to my desires, I willed myself back to concentrating on my Master's enjoyment. Being a slave boy is hard, like hockey, I need to keep working on it to improve.

Hearing Master's voice, shook me back into the moment.

"Stop and follow me."

As we walked down the hallway towards the bedroom, Master pointed at the open bathroom door and said, "You can go now."

I knew not to close the door as Master watched me try to pee with a boner, it just would not go down. Sitting would be the only way, so that is what I did, looking back at the doorway, and Master seeing me struggle, did not make this easy. I think I should have gone outside, I had time, Master went into the bathroom as soon as we arrived. I was on auto-pilot, going to the back and stripping down to wait, not thinking. I am not supposed to think, but that is too hard for me, my head is always racing about something it seems.

As I pushed down on my boner, a nervous anticipation swept over me, as I pictured myself on Master's bed, on all fours, looking back … or would I be on my back, legs pulled back and spread wide as I admired the man-pole that would penetrate my boy pussy and provide me that pleasure I have come to crave as much as possible. I am horny all the time, I have turned into a horndog, it keeps driving me to do things that I would not ever have imagined before the summer started.

At first, it was a couple of short spurts and then a stream. Ahh, the relief felt good. I glanced back at Master, he was standing there, silent and motionless, with his arms crossed in front of him.

Washing my hands, we went to his bedroom, where Master pointed to the floor again, in front of a full-length mirror on the wall in his bedroom.

"You may suck my cock now while I enjoy the view."

What view? I thought, as I gently licked the head of Master's cock, sucking gently as I wrapped my lips around the shaft and swirled my tongue, taking him deeper as I slid my lips downward until I felt the head just touching the back of my throat, before pulling back up.

"I like that color on you, a couple of cherry globes against your white skin. You don't tan well, Do you?"

With my mouth full, I had to pull off to answer, "No, I burn a lot, it's my Scandinavian skin, we don't tan."

"Get back to work, a simple ah-ah would have been ok, even if mumbled."

Concentrating on Master's cock was the best thing I could do right now. I had made it through the day, so far, without messing up, and it was close to the time I would have to go home. Wrapping my left hand around the shaft towards the head, I began kissing the shaft down low, next to Master's pubes with a gentle lip sucking, moving up as I worshiped his cock before enveloping the head again and taking as much as I could into my mouth while using my right hand to stroke him, short strokes, slow at first, and then gradually faster. As Master had already cum today, I knew I would have to work harder, but not too hard, as I did want him to fuck me again before it was too late.

Just when I thought he was about to cum, Master put his hand on the top of my head and pushed it back.

"Stay."

Master left me kneeling there as I heard him go down to the basement. Again, my thoughts raced to being fucked again. He did push me off before coming, he must be saving it, to add to the cum he deposited in me earlier, the cum that the butt plug is holding in – that is driving me crazy.

Returning with that cat o' nine tails, Master handed it to me and told me to inspect it, look at it closely, worship it like I did his cock, and when I was done, present it to him. I knew this scene, we had read it in different stories, slave on his knees, arms outstretched presenting the implement of his punishment to his Master, who then has him kiss it before being punished … or giving his Master pleasure in being punished.

This cat was different than some of the ones I saw at the adult shop, it had nine strands of soft leather, cut from a single piece of leather, like a comb, with the top part wrapped around the handle, which was then wrapped in more leather. Under that leather, there was a strip of leather wrapped around, which gave it a grip. The same way we tape our sticks in hockey, except we use twisted tape to make the grip and then tape over that. What was missing, was the knots on the end. Some at the shop had knots up and down the length of the cords, there was one that had braided tails, like those long whips you see in the movies. This one did not seem as menacing.

Worshiping the handle as if it were Master's cock, I took it into my mouth and sucked while looking over at Master sitting on the edge of the bed, raising my eyebrows and tilting my head, being as seductive as I could. Putting on a show was fun, I liked doing that, I liked the attention. Master was obviously enjoying the show too from the look on his face.

"What do you think? Should I use that again?"

"If it gives you pleasure, Master."

"Ah, yes, good answer. I see you're running your fingers through the strands, like you're petting a favorite toy. What are you thinking right now?"

"It doesn't have the knots like some of the ones at the store, and the leather is soft."

"Yes, Mr. Smith used deer leather for this one, it is softer and stings less. It's from a deer he shot last year during hunting season. It's more like a flogger and can be used without stinging or a hard smack, except it has nine tails. A beginner's cat. That's why it only left red marks the last time and no broken skin. A real cat is made to tear up the skin."

"Oh, I don't think I would like a real one then."

"Well, I think my cock needs your attention again. I almost shot my load and decided to take a break, I want to see you really work for it this time. More begging, your sweet voice is what I want to hear, but not too much that you neglect my cock. You need to strike a good balance."

"Yes, Master." At that, I held the cat in my outstretched arms and looking Master in the eye, I said, "Master, will you please use this cat on your slave."

Taking the cat from my hands, Master held the handle to my lips, whereby I kissed the handle.

"Get back to work on my cock, slave."

Master's cock was again hard and leaking precum as I licked the head clean before feeling the first hit across my back.

"Thank you, Master." Said quickly between breaths as I went back to sucking the last taste of cum from his head. "Master, please, may I have your cum in my mouth, on my face, all over my body."

Another strike, this time the ends of the strands reaching down on my already red butt. A short stinging sensation and as I jerked, that butt plug jabbed into me. This was a fun game, as I continued to suck, lick, and kiss up and down Master's shaft, using my right hand to pump his juice from those big hanging balls – his balls… I have been neglecting them. As I sucked them gently, I paused from moment to moment to say, "Please balls, let me taste your sweet and salty juice."

Master grabbed the sides of my head and guided me back to the head of his cock before plunging it into my waiting mouth. Holding my head firm, he started pumping faster and faster, before pulling out and pushing my head backwards, exploding all over my face.

Opening my eyes again and looking up, I saw his chest heave with a deep audible breath as I felt the cum dripping down from my forehead across my face and onto my chest. Master looked down at me with a smile across his face before pushing his cock back into my mouth for the next few spirts, small ones.

"Well, you look good like that. Just what you asked for: my cum all over your face, in your mouth, and dripping down your body. As a reward, you may play with your own little dicky, masturbate yourself to an orgasm. I want to see a few drops of that clear stuff, and be sure to catch it, because you'll be eating that too."

***

Time to go home after showering and getting dressed. Master did remove the butt plug and that empty feeling came over me, that feeling I had read about and now know it myself.

I was in the shower alone, letting the warm water run down over me. Master let me shower in peace, with the door open, but the shower curtain was closed.

Thinking about my day, I did get fucked, in the woods, but that was the only time. I struggled to reach an orgasm, playing with myself is just not the same. Master did not help, he just enjoyed watching me work my little dinky until it was raw and sore. He did not even offer any lube. Maybe I should have asked or maybe just taken it from the nightstand, as if it were expected. It was harder to masturbate while in a kneeling position. I did not mind being watched, I think I even liked it, like when I show off with a strip dance; of course, showing off is different depending on who is watching. If I am on the ice, skating, or in the water, swimming, it would be a different kind of showing off: "Look at me!" and what I can do. But this is different, I am on display and saying I am available for you to do to me as you please, I want you to do things to me.

The day was certainly filled with new experiences, especially that porn shop and all the stuff there. It would be cool to just explore it on my own, see what other things are there. The stool that Mr. Smith gave me was cool, I never imagined or read about one of those. I definitely liked it, better than a butt plug. Mark's ceremony, presenting me with my slave collar was nice. It is a nice collar, shiny black with "slave" engraved in the leather and a ring where the buckle is, like a dog collar. It did not have any other rings, like some of the collars I had seen in the pictures. The matching harness felt good when I was wearing it, maybe we can do tie-up games. I feel complete now, I have all that I need to be a good slave boy. I just need to practice more.

After showering and drying off, I combed my hair in the mirror – I had a faint ring around my neck, from the sun, it was a warm sunny day, my wrists too. Oh, shoot, this is no good. What am I going to do?

Wrapping the towel around my waist, I raced out of the bathroom to Master, who was sitting on the couch watching TV.

"Master, look, I have rings around my wrists and around my neck."

"Why do you have a towel wrapped around you?"

"Oh, just habit I guess."

"Well, drop it."

"Yes, Master."

"Now, let me see. It's barely noticeable, it'll fade in no time. Wear a turtle neck with long sleeves. You have one of those don't you?"

"Yes, Master, I do."

"Ok, then, get dressed and let's go, unless you want to be late for dinner."

"No, Master, I don't want to be late for dinner."

***

On the ride home, Master gave me permission to speak openly and I did not have to play the part of being a slave.

"So, Did you like how the day went?"

"Yes, it was fun, especially the porn shop, that was cool."

"And what was your favorite part of today?"

This was hard, I liked a lot of things, and almost said the porn shop again and that stool, and the way Mr. Smith fitted me with the harness and collar. Mr. Smith was a different kind of Master than Mark, more like the doctor, he just seemed to be more of an authority figure, someone you just obeyed because they told you to. Someone who was not to be disobeyed and if you did, there would be harsh consequences, like my father, he only told you something once, and after that, it would be hell to pay.

With Mark, it was more a game.

"The collar you presented me. I felt really good inside, like getting an award at school, or a trophy in hockey, not that we ever won the championship, because we didn't, but the feeling of just thinking about it during playoffs."

"That's nice to hear, I was hoping that would be the best part of your day."

Did I just lie to my Master? A white lie, as the nuns would say? I know adults lie all the time, I catch them, I have seen and heard them. Like my mother complimenting someone on their dress and then later when we are home saying it was awful, how girls wear their dresses too short these days, how indecent it was … blah, blah, blah. I just did the same thing, which is ok by adults and ok by the nuns.

***

MB is up next, hopefully he will fuck me, that is what I enjoy the most. I wonder what he has in store for me. I have to check out the Boy Scouts, maybe join that troop with Dave. I heard they start up again after the summer. MB suggested that could get me out of the house for a weekend. I hope so.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Middle school is a drag. Some of the boys in my grade really grew over the summer and have bigger cocks now. I know, because they make it obvious when we are all standing together at the urinals. They might as well announce it out loud the way they stand back a bit and shake it like it was a big fat kielbasa. Some boys accuse other boys of checking them out, and call them a homo, but to me, it seems half the boys are checking out other boys; you can see them when you are standing waiting for a urinal to open up, and again as you are leaving. I was sure mine was the smallest, until I saw Archie's little thing. They say one in ten boys are homos, so, there must be others besides me. I wonder who. I must be hiding it better, because no one has accused me, not yet at least.

School is out at 2:20, so that leaves almost 3 hours in the afternoon to do whatever I want, but tonight is when I will meet MB and that is all I can think about. I am going to finish my homework after school at the school library. I walk to and from school, so I do not have to catch the bus, or what they call the late bus for kids playing sports, in clubs, or in detention.

***

Dinner is quick and I race out before anyone can even ask me where I am going. As I said, we do not talk much at the dinner table, rather we eat fast and leave. No need to wait or sit around chatting. That is just the way it is in my family.

Spotting MB, I follow him. He stops in front of a store window. He tells me his room number as I pass by. He does not turn around and I do not stop either. I know to wait a bit and then go in the side entrance to the hotel, out of view of the main lobby and the bellboys.

"Hello Erik." Said as I rushed into the room and MB closed the door behind me.

To my surprise, and stopping dead in my tracks, was the boy I had met who asked me all those questions about the cop that questioned me on the oval. I did not know he knew MB and gave up on ever seeing him again. He was sitting on the bed.

"Hello, I'm Rick." And then turning to MB, he said, "We've met."

"Oh, I did not know. You need to tell me everything. What have you two done together?"

I had these thoughts that Rick had pointed me out to MB, and maybe that is why MB started talking to me that day at the hotel pool, but as Rick told the story, I came to believe, as MB did, that it was just coincidence.

"Rick is going to be your partner; he is going to teach you the ropes. He started out with a partner, who has moved on. Sixteen is when most boys retire from this business, some sooner, it depends on your growth spurts and many boys decide at some point they like girls. It's just the way it is."

The initial shock had subsided, and I smiled and nodded as MB went on. He told Rick that I was experienced and good at providing the services that would be expected of me. Rick smiled at me as his eyes lit up too. His job just became a whole lot easier. I figured he was 14 when we met, maybe a late 14, it is hard to tell, boys I know just seem to change overnight, like some of the boys from my grade who popped up over the summer.

MB went on, grooming, cleanliness, dressing smart, how to behave and act. It was like school, reviewing everything before a big test.

"Erik, if you have any questions, Rick will be able to help. He may not be able to tell you everything, as it is imperative that certain things remain secret."

Having just started middle school, and how most of the boys were now older, with a bush down below, I thought about Mark, and how I would soon have to keep the hairs off. I wondered if Rick shaved down there and how he kept it hidden in school, if he did shave.

"I heard that if you shave below the waist, you can look younger. Does that mean you can stay in the business longer if you shave?" I looked at both Rick and MB, hoping they would both answer.

"I keep it trimmed close, but I don't shave. It'll itch if you shave, and it can irritate the skin, and it looks like a rash, all red."

"What about school?"

"In the showers, everyone's bush is matted down from the water; you won't stick out. I just keep facing the wall and grab my towel quickly as I get out of the shower. There's all different sizes and bushes in middle school anyway. I just started high school, so it's different there, but we haven't started gym yet."

"I see you boys are hitting it off fine and will get along well, that's good to see, speaking of which, it is better to see how much Erik knows and how good he is already than just hearing me say so. He is also a submissive, a big plus in this business." Turning to face me directly, MB told me, "Take your clothes off."

I hesitated, shooting a glance over to Rick, who just sat there, expressionless, looking at me. It felt strange having another boy in the room, just looking on. This was different from when an adult tells you what to do and you just do it. I was being told to strip and I would be the only one in the room naked. I thought about asking if Rick was going to strip too, but then my other instinct, or was it my summer training with Mark, told me not to.

I had on the same clothes I wore to school. My mother does not like us changing after school, it just doubles the laundry. I unbuttoned my shirt, slowly, looking at MB and Rick. They did not say anything. I sat down in a chair to remove my shoes and socks. Then I stood up again and removed my shirt. I was not wearing an undershirt. I looked both of them in the eyes, as I had my hands on the buckle of my pants belt. It was still quiet; they were silent and watching. I slowly undid my belt. I was expecting something would be said, like, Rick, you too, but only the rustle of my belt could be heard. Dropping my pants, I stepped out of them, followed by hooking my thumbs into the waistband of my underpants. Again, I paused, and looked at them before whipping them down and off.

Standing there, hands to my sides, on display. It somehow felt different.

Rick spoke first, "You look good, quite fit, the men will be drooling over you."

To be complimented by another boy, and in such a manner was difficult. Boys did not do that.

MB told me to turn around, "Nice and firm." As he squeezed one of my cheeks, before giving it a slap, not hard, it was like the kind my coach gives to the boys as they come off the ice and back onto the bench saying, "Good job."

MB told me to kneel between Rick's legs and that I knew what to do from there. I was not sure, exactly. MB said I was a submissive. I guess he wanted me to be Rick's slave boy. To get into the role, I did as I was told. I had thought Rick was hot looking from the first time we met. Not a man, but not a little boy either, and definitely in good shape. Too many of the older teenagers look more like men than teenagers, but not Rick. He still looked more like a boy. I looked up into his face, still no zits, and his black hair long and unkempt, just the way I remembered it. This time, I noticed his brown eyes. Mine are blue.

Rick just looked down at me as I spoke up, "Rick, Can I suck you off?"

With a big smile and chuckle, Rick said, "The men are definitely going to like you."

I waited for an answer; it started to become awkward, when Rick started to undo his pants. I would have done that for him. He lifted his butt up and pushed his pants and underpants down enough to expose a very nice-looking cock, with a neatly trimmed bush, just like he said. I thought the best thing to do was just get to work. This was a job after all, and one that has already paid me more money than I had seen in my entire life.

I liked the size; I could take the whole thing in my mouth without gagging. I know I have a strong gag reflex, the dentist told me, and I do not think I will ever be able to deep throat. After kissing the head softly, I moved down the shaft, licking it like a lollipop, stopping to kiss it with a bit of sucking action along the way. Getting the whole thing in my mouth was nice, as I used my tongue on the underside while sucking with my lips wrapped tightly around the shaft. I knew to keep my teeth from touching it: I was not an amateur. Rick rested himself back on the bed, so he must be enjoying it. This gave me the chance to work on his balls; they were mostly hairless and gave me a break from sucking.

My focus is razor sharp on what I thought was the perfect size and looking teenage cock: straight, with a head that looked right. For some guys, like my friend from the neighborhood, Leo, his cock is curved and just does not look right that way. I saw his boner once, a couple of years ago. We were not doing anything sexy, and I forget just what we were doing, we were just little kids, well, me littler than he was down there. I have seen cocks with overly big heads or small heads, and those do not look good in my opinion, but this one was perfectly shaped and sized. I guess I should mention we were all circumcised, everyone I had ever seen was. I did not even know at that time about circumcision I thought dicks were naturally like that.

There I go again, losing concentration. Mark says that is one area I need to work on. The teachers in school have told me the same thing, "stop daydreaming." Well, not this year, it just started. Give them time and they will figure it out.

Oh, Rick … Placing the palms of my hands on his abs, I start to move them closer to his tits, gently and slowly feeling every crease. Wow, Rick is built: a six-pack. I feel every muscle with my fingertips. I could worship Rick; I could be his slave boy. I imagine him standing before me, hands on either side of my head, telling me to suck it. I obey. I want to hold onto his butt, feel his leg muscles, lick his balls, take his seed however he wants to give it to me. Spray it across my face, and then feed it to me with his fingers. Deep down my throat, or into my mouth, I would proudly show it to him and wait for the command to swallow.

Rick could ride me like the Lone Ranger's horse Silver. Spank my butt as he yells, "Yee haw." Yes, I am rock hard and I feel my own boner throbbing. I want to grab it, stroke it. I lick and suck Rick's cock with a passion I have not experienced before. My fingertips make their way to Rick's tits. As I feel his chest muscles, he is rock solid there. Not gross man-body-builder, but taut and defined. Going down the sides, he has the start of that V shape that the older jocks have, just not as big yet. Rick has left boyhood, but has not yet entered manhood. There is not an ounce of flab on him as my hands make their way onto the sides of his hips.

Suddenly, I just want to roll him over and worship what I know will be the perfect butt. I want to kiss it, feel it, leave hickeys all over it. I do not know what is going on with me. I have never felt this way before. I would kiss his feet if he told me to.

A mouthful of cum brings me back to reality as Rick sits back up with a huge smile across his face and a hand on my head to guide me away from his cock.

"That was great."

Smiling, I open my mouth to show him the remnants of his cum.

Rick is beaming ear to ear, with both hands now on the sides of my face. I am waiting for him to say swallow, but he just looks up at MB and says, "You weren't kidding."

Swallowing, I stay on my knees, basking in the compliment, with butterflies in my stomach, the likes of which I never experienced before, as Rick looks down at me and drops his hands onto my shoulders. Looking up, I say, "Thank you."

"You're welcome, but it is me that should be thanking you. I see you're pretty excited yourself, and it looks wet."

I had not beat off since yesterday, I wanted to be sure I could get at least a little squirt out with MB, but this was better than anything I had experienced before. Not even my cousin Tom made me feel this good. I have heard the expression, "Love at first sight," and maybe I just did not get a good enough look the first time, or a feel, I guess, it was my fingers that did the looking as my head was buried in his crotch.

"Oh, it is. That hasn't happened to me before, I only squirt a couple of drops of the clear stuff, and not always, I have to work at it."

"That's sweet nectar to the men. It won't be long now before you're cumming."

"Ahem." It was MB. "That was good, you're a natural, and it seems I'm excited myself. Think you boys could take care of this for me?" MB had both hands on the front of his hips, slowly moving them up and down to emphasize his obviously excited state.

Rick stood up and removed his shirt, letting his pants drop to his ankles before taking them off along with his shoes and socks. "It's better to be naked, you don't want cum on your clothes, people might see it or smell it later."

Can I say, Drop dead gorgeous.

It was back to work as Rick and I took care of MB. MB is good looking, and does have a nice cock, but an epiphany struck me as we both worked the sides of his cock, our tongues meeting momentarily, sending a shock through my body. When my eyes met Rick's eyes, it was a magical moment. I hope Rick has the same feelings for me.

Oh, the epiphany – boy, I cannot stay focused on anything, it is just too hard. Well, I have heard people say that Aunt Peg follows her passions, she is a free butterfly, pursuing the pleasures of life … and that she needs to settle down and get a steady job, find a man. I wonder if adults know how much we pick up just listening when they think we are not. People go to work; they pursue their passion outside of work, on their own time. It is only the really lucky that can put both together. Sucking MB off now feels like work, the "business" as MB calls it. But did I just get lucky and put them together, at least some of the time? And why does Aunt Peg need to find a man? Maybe she is happy without one. My parents fight all the time. I see other parents fighting. My father hits my mother when he is angry. He hits me too.

Rick is working MB's balls, as I work the shaft. Sucking the head as I move up and down. Rick and I bump heads from time to time. We switch places. I work his balls. I so want to kiss Rick, French kiss him passionately. I imagine us naked, embracing each other as our cocks rub and our mouths suck each other's tongue into our own mouth. My hands kneading his wonderful bum cheeks as we roll on the bed.

We continue to work on MB. Rick is nice. Our hands touch, our arms touch, we are both in motion, doing our job. It is those touches that stimulate me, my dick is rock hard and throbbing again. It is not MB that it stands at attention for, it is Rick.

MB is now lying on his back on the bed with his legs over the side from the knee down. His pants are just above the knee, his shirt wide open. We decide to take his pants off, no words were exchanged, we just started to do it. I untied his right shoe, Rick his left shoe. We worked together to remove his pants and briefs. MB was not as old as my father and did not wear boxers like the old people did.

It was back to work as we eyed each other, moving back up, stopping when my waist was on the edge of the bed, with my legs stretched out so that my toes were on the floor. My head and upper body moving around as we serviced MB. But it was my dick, small d, that kept rubbing on the edge of the bed. I soon found myself humping it. I could not stop, the closeness of Rick, the touch, the feel, it was having an effect on me that I had to pursue, it was my passion.

MB shot his load, Rick caught it across the face and hair. I smiled at him. He looked down at me with that look that says, So, you think that was funny? In a jovial way, with his eyebrows raised.

"Can you get me a towel, before it drips all over?"

"Sure." As I stood up and went to the bathroom. I would have licked it off his face if he told me to.

"One for me too," MB called out.

***

MB put his pants back on and buttoned his shirt. It was time to discuss business. Rick dressed too, and I followed suit. I guess no one thinks I need relief, too young for that.

"We have a client that will be hosting a weekend getaway, just a few close business associates. He owns one of those old estates in south county. He only uses it during the summer and some weekends the rest of the year. He needs additional staff to wait on his clients. There will be a catered dinner, with waiters from the catering service. You boys will be busboys. You'll also be the bellhops as his guests arrive. After the catering service leaves, you will be expected to wait on the clients, after dinner drinks, whatever they need."

Rick openly chuckled, "Yeah, whatever they need, ha-ha."

MB gave him the look before continuing, "Rick, I know you know the drill and I am depending on you to look after Erik. He knows the proper etiquette for formal dinners as a diner, but he may not know what he should be doing as a busboy, like food is served on the left and removed on the right, and the responsibilities of the waiters versus the busboys."

"I'll take good care of him. Waiters serve, busboys clear. It'll probably be a five or seven course meal. You need to keep water glasses full, butter and other condiments too. MB, if it's the one I'm thinking about, I'll have to go over things in detail beforehand. Will Jake be there too?"

"The client does want three boys. I have to check Jake's availability."

I knew those old estates, built during the Gilded Age in the 1890s. Super rich people who gilded everything with gold. The estates are massive, and were just summer retreats to escape the heat from the cities. The train brought them up here into the mountains to enjoy the cool summers. They did not have air conditioning back then. One of them is open to the public for tours, which is why I know so much about them, Aunt Peg and I toured it. Some are still privately owned, passed down through the generations, but no longer in use and barely maintained. Then there are a few that are still kept up and used, just not in the same way they were in the Gilded Age, with lavish summer parties, and an army of servants, landscapers, cooks, nannies, maids, even footmen to take care of the horse and buggies that they used to go from house to house for whoever's turn it was to host a party. The pictures were amazing.

"Three weeks from now, make sure you have an excuse to be away. You'll be expected to be there early Saturday morning, there will be work to do. Guests will arrive around lunchtime, stay the night and leave Sunday morning after breakfast, or rather brunch."

Rick spoke up, "I suppose his butler will be there early and won't have a problem putting us to work to prepare the place. Did he say what he wanted for the evening entertainment after the caterers leave?"

"He liked what you boys did the last time, but other than that, he did not say. You'll have to work on that. I'm expecting you to take the lead role here, you're the most experienced."

We wrapped things up and MB brought me home again, well close to home. Rick walked. He headed towards Lower Main Street. The houses in that direction are nicer than those in the north end. The merchants and bankers lived south of Main Street back in the old days; the mill and factory workers lived north, where I am.

Now I need to work on that excuse. It might be time to join the Boy Scouts with Dave.

To Be Continued