Herb Cat

Nicholas's Story

Chapter 1
My earliest memories

I want to start by telling you about the night I lost my virginity. That is a very special day in everyone's life. For a special rare woman, it happens on her wedding night, when for the first time she enters into the throes of passion as her til-death-do-us-part partner enters her clit. Other women remember the night under the bleachers, the beach after the prom, the seedy motel, or the bedroom when the parents are out for the evening. For his part, a man might recall when someone plowed his ass for the first time. Perhaps it was a coach who deflowered him, or a special roommate who plucked his cherry. No matter where the location or what the circumstances, it is a very special memory, the day when you discover your body can give special pleasure to a special man.

So yes, I want to start by telling you about losing my virginity. Unfortunately, I cannot. You see, I have no memory of being a virgin. My earliest memories from the time I was still a little boy, were of adult cocks rammed up my young asshole. Getting fucked for me was as natural a part of growing up as eating, napping, crying, toddling around naked, playing with my toys, sucking tits and dicks and thumbs, sulking, giggling, and exploring wide-eyed this wonderful new world.

Who was the first man who fucked me? I can't swear to it, but it was no doubt Father. He fucked every bitch-hole in the house and there were plenty of them, with new ones arriving every few months. Everyone in the house other than Father was called 'bitch'. This included a few boy bitches like myself who never seemed to get close to becoming teenagers in Father's house, a great many girl bitches of ages ranging from baby bitches up through their teens, and a handful of women bitches who on frequent occasions bred new bitches. When a baby was a few weeks old, he or she underwent the deflowering ceremony, sort of like a christening, no, more like a bris, because of the trauma involved. After all, a few drops of water may have spiritual consequences but leave no physical damage. I clearly remember Father demanding each new baby be brought to him, as I assume I was. As all us other bitches stood around him, the diaper would be removed and the newest bitch would be placed on Father's lap. At first, the child would look scared. Then as two of the women held the squirming infant, Father would begin penetrating its little asshole (and its pussy if it had one.) As the kid screamed away, Father filled its hole(s) with his cum. Following this, the baby would still be crying, but Father made a show of discarding the kid's pacifier. To soothe it, the baby would then be placed where it could suck the cock that had just been up its asshole. For some reason, this always quieted the child and the rest of us would clap our hands. Thereafter, whenever the infant needed soothing, it was to be given a cock, usually one of us older boys. In my years with Father, I had many of my young siblings sucking my boydick, and frequently they fell asleep for their naps attached to it. For girls, there was yet one more part of the ceremony. Father would give each girl bitch its new name: bitch Judy, bitch Andrea, bitch Gloria. The boys never got names. Father said since we didn't have pussies, there was no reason for us to have names. We were known collectively as just the boy bitches.

In the days after the ceremony, the new baby bitch would be given to other men, just as all of us bitches were. We understood that our mouths, anuses (and vaginas, those of us that had them) were holes created solely for the satisfaction of Father's cock and those of his 'friends'. Oh, sure, I did normal kid stuff like I said. I took naps, I ate, I played and wrestled with the other boys. But, if Father or one of his 'friends' wanted a boy bitch to fuck, I would be given to him, no matter what I was doing. Although, usually I was sleeping for my two holes were most often needed in the middle of the night, after the men had been drinking a while.

Sometimes, one of the women or older girls would be given to a man to take away for a while and occasionally, the man would also ask for a little girl to come along. Once in a while, the man would ask for a little boy instead. In that case, I was to call the female Mommy, no matter who she was. For all I knew, any of the women there could have been my mother. The man would use this mother and me for a few days and then return us to Father. Sometimes he just wanted me to watch the way he fucked my 'Mommy' in front of me, maybe to shame her, maybe to teach the little boy what cunts were for. Sometimes he had me lick his cum out of Mommy's pussy when he finished, and he'd inspect her to make sure I'd felched it all. And sometimes the man wanted to use my ass. After all, it was a lot tighter than the broad's.

I don't remember too much about Father's house. It seemed big to me, with lots of bedrooms to accommodate everyone two or three to a bed. I think there must have been a lot of property around the house, because I don't remember any neighbors. Father apparently made enough money from his 'friends' to keep his large 'family' somewhat fed. And of course a lot of money was saved on clothes. Most days, Father was the only one dressed. The rest of us went about our business, inside and outside, naked. There were a few clothes in a bin for everyone to share, so when a man borrowed us, we could be halfway decent traveling through town. It might mean I'd be wearing a girl's blouse, shoes way too big for my feet, and shorts way too tight, but at least I was dressed.

One of my 'brothers' was perhaps three years older than I. (Father never kept track of any of the kids' birthdays or ages, so I'm not really sure.) He and I hit it off for some reason and often played together. We even slept together. I felt he protected me. I'm not sure what I gave him in return other than idol worship. Of course, I called him 'bitch' and he called me 'bitch'. Those were the only names the boys had. One day, maybe when I was around four, I went looking for this 'bitch', and couldn't find him. I searched everywhere. Finally, someone told me he was gone. I didn't understand. I cried and cried. Later, I learned that a man had come and taken him away. After that, I was very wary about getting too close to anyone else. I didn't want to get hurt again. Sure enough, whenever a boy seemed to reach a certain age, he would disappear. A couple of times, I actually saw the man drive in, do some negotiating with Father, and drive off with the boy. Where were they taking them?

Sometimes in the middle of the night when I would be lying in some bed, my little legs up by my shoulders, some smelly stranger wiping his spit on my asshole to prepare it for his cock, I would wonder about my missing brothers. Were they happier where they were now?

After one of my bitch brothers was driven away, I realized I was the biggest boy still left in Father's house. I guess I must have been around seven. I remember one afternoon a car arrived and a man got out whom I had never seen before. Father spoke to him a while, then pointed and the man looked at me and nodded. A few days later, bitch Carlotta took me to the clothes bin and after rustling around, pulled out a black t shirt with several holes in it, some torn denim cutoffs and a pair of rubber flip-flops. "These will do." she said and told me to put them on.

"What dress are you going to wear, Mommy?"

"I'm not going to be your mommy this time, bitch. This time you're on your own." I thought about my bitch brothers going off by themselves and I realized my turn had come.

"I won't be coming back, will I?"

"Nope."

I waited on the porch steps and stared down the drive. Soon, a car appeared. The same car I had seen a few days earlier. Father came out and spoke to the man again. The man gave him an envelope and Father called me, "Bitch, get over here." The man opened the front passenger seat of the car and I climbed in. If any of my younger bitch brothers were watching us drive away, I didn't see them. I never looked back at Father's house.

Chapter 2
I become a real son

Once we were on the highway, I spoke up, "Who are you?"

"I'm going to be your new daddy, Son." He looked at me and smiled tenderly. I can still hear his voice dubbing me with the title 'Son'. I was no longer to be a bitch. He reached into the back seat and pulled up a shopping bag. "Here, these are for you, Son." I looked inside and saw brand new clothes. "Go on, try them on, Son. I hope they fit OK."

I pulled off my holey t and unwrapped a new striped button-down shirt. I slipped it on and buttoned the buttons. Then I pulled out a pair of Superman briefs and a new pair of stone washed jeans. I held them both up. "Which pants should I put on, uh, Daddy?"

He smiled and said, "Both. First you put on the underwear and then the jeans." I started to giggle; I had never worn two pairs of pants at once. I slipped out of the cutoffs and the man smiled as I wiggled my little ass into my new clothes. Finally, I kicked off the flip-flops and put on a new pair of white socks, and a pair of loafers which fit perfectly.

He was still smiling at me. "Well, what do you say?"

"They're nice."

"So what do you say when you get something nice?" Now I was worried. I didn't know what he wanted me to say. Apparently, there were some secret answers I knew nothing about. If I didn't come up with the magic word, maybe he would make me take off my new clothes. Maybe he would turn around and bring me back to Father.

"Uh, I don't know, uh, Daddy." I felt tears welling up in my eyes.

"It's simple, Son. You say, 'Thank you, Daddy'." He was still smiling.

I laughed. "Thank you, Daddy," I shouted with relief. I'd never been taught this simple courtesy. It was the first of many lessons my new daddy was to teach me.

He pulled off the road into a rest area and we climbed out. First, he bent down and rebuttoned my shirt. I had somehow come out with an extra buttonhole on one side. Then he gave me a hug and a kiss, two more things I'd never gotten from Father. He pulled my old clothes out of the car and threw them in a garbage can. To him, this was simply discarding some worthless rags. To me, it was getting rid of the first seven years of my life. My days as a bitch were now in that can.

He got two sodas from a machine and we sat on a picnic table and drank them. "What's your name, Son?" I shrugged and kept drinking my coke. "Well, what did Father call you?"

"Bitch." I kept on drinking.

"No, you will need a proper name now, Son." He looked me over carefully. "Nicholas. How does 'Nicholas' sound to you?" I shrugged again. "OK, 'Nicholas' it is then. I love you, Son." He reached over and kissed my head. I know I smiled.

We drove for several hours. I had never been more than a few miles from Father's house, so I was staring at all the wondrous sights that we passed. We made a stop for lunch at a diner, and another stop for gas, but mostly we kept driving. Daddy asked some questions about what I liked to do, but I know my answers weren't very satisfactory. Then he taught me to sing songs like Old MacDonald. He tried to teach me to play I Spy but he realized I didn't know any words that started with A. So we looked at the clouds in the afternoon sky and tried to guess what animals we saw in them.

The sun was already down when we got to Tucson and arrived at my new home, a coop apartment on the top floor of a four story building. I thought the place was heaven. In the main room was a TV set, a couch, some chairs, a coffee table, and a big case full of books. An alcove held the kitchen where a refrigerator was filled will more food than I had ever seen. The bathroom had both a shower and a tub. And the bedroom had a huge king-sized bed, a dresser for Daddy and one for me, a closet for each of us, and a toy chest. My dresser and closet were already stocked with clothes, and the toy chest was jammed with play things. "Nicholas. Welcome home, Son."

"Thank you, Daddy." I hugged him tight.

That evening, Daddy cooked a delicious meal for us, and we watched TV while I played with my new toys. Then we took our clothes off, got into the tub together and spent a long time luxuriating in the warm lather, Daddy's arms wrapped around me, as I sat between his legs. After he toweled me dry, he handed me my first-ever pajamas, a military camouflage design that matched his own. We climbed into the big bed and huddled together.

"You make me very happy, Nicholas, my Son."

"I do? Really?" I felt him hold me tighter and now my bottom was pressed against his mantool.

"Yes, Son, really."

"I'm happy too. Daddy. This is the best day of my whole life. Thank you, Daddy."

"I love you, Son."

"I love you too, Daddy."

"I want to show you how much I love you." Daddy kept whispering softly in my ear as he lowered my pj's off my ass.

"Do you want my bitch-hole, Daddy?" I was willing to do anything to please this wonderful man.

"No, Son. You are not a bitch any more. We will never use that word. And this,…" he put his gentle finger on my anus, "…this is a love hole." With that, Daddy scooched down in the bed and began licking my ass crack. I had been fucked countless times but no one had ever taken the time to engage in foreplay. This was a new sensation for me. I closed my eyes and moaned as Daddy's wet tongue darted in and out of my 'love hole'. Then he reached for a tube on the bedside table. Soon, I felt a wonderful slipperiness on my ass, as his gentle fingers massaged my hole. When his turgid cock entered me, it was nothing like any of my previous fucks. It didn't hurt. I didn't scream. It felt perfect. I moaned softly as Daddy shot his load into my love hole. He whispered, "I have inseminated you, Nicholas. I have conceived you tonight as my own flesh." I did not understand what he meant. But somehow I knew that with that fuck, he made me his son. I now had his lifejuice in me. His genes swirled about inside my body. I was his own true son now. We fell asleep.

The next few weeks were a whirlwind of new adventures for me. Daddy brought me to parks and zoos and beaches. We ate in real restaurants. We went into stores and he bought me whatever lit up my young eyes. He showed me off to his friends, introducing me as Nicholas, his son. These were not like Father's so-called 'friends'. These people didn't want to use Daddy's new son for their own lust. There were married couples, single parents raising children of their own, and just normal folk who came by on weekends for barbecues and evenings for bridge. When we saw them on the streets or in the stores, they'd wave and shout "Hi, Nicholas!"

On the playgrounds, I found out that boys played games together and I could join in. It was all so new and so wonderful. I joined a soccer team and little league and Daddy made sure he was at every one of my games.

Daddy read books to me and I quickly discovered that those strange squiggles on the page were letters and they could magically be rearranged to stand for words. At seven, I was a late bloomer but I made up for it. Daddy taught me to read and write, and add numbers. In the fall, he brought me to school and enrolled me in second grade. I had never been inside a classroom or interacted with a teacher and classmates, but I knew how to obey when the teacher told me to do something, just as I had obeyed Father and the older women bitches. I was anxious to learn, both for my own sake and in order to please Daddy. Every day, I would run up the stairs to our apartment and excitedly tell Daddy all the new things I had learned. He made sure I did my homework before playing with my toys.

Every night, we cuddled in bed and told, in words and actions, how much we loved each other. He fucked me often enough, but some nights we simply 69'ed or just kissed and hugged. Other times, Daddy felt mischievous and we'd wrestle or rim each other or do silly naked dances.

I discovered the year was full of holidays designed for little boys like me, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas. Each month brought a new celebration that had never been mentioned in Father's house. I also discovered that the other boys in my class each had his own special holiday called a birthday. "Daddy?" I asked one evening in the bathtub, as his loving arms were wrapped round me.

"What is it, Son?"

"Do I have a birthday?"

"Of course you do, Nicholas. Everybody has a birthday."

"When is my birthday?"

"Well, that is a very good question, Nicholas. You are a very smart boy to ask such an important question. Let me see. Father never told me your birthday. I don't think he even knew. Things like that were not important to him. So we will have to find a very special way to discover your birthday." I could tell Daddy was thinking hard. We finished bathing, and Daddy toweled me off and wrapped me up in my big warm terrycloth robe. We went to the kitchen and he took the calendar off the wall. He flipped back a few months and pointed to a day that had a big red circle around it. "Do you remember what happened that day, Nicholas?"

I stared at the date, and tried to think. So much had happened to me in the intervening months. "Uh, is that the day I came home with you?"

"You are so smart, Nicholas! Yes."

"That was the best day of my whole life, Daddy."

"For me, also, Son. For me, also. And do you remember our first night in bed together, Son?"

"Of course, Daddy. It was super. You made love to me. And you said some things too. I'm not sure what they meant, but they sounded real nice. And they made me feel really loved."

"Nicholas, you have a wonderful memory. No wonder you are so smart. Yes, I told you I had inseminated you, Nicholas. I told you I had conceived you. That's the way babies are born, Nicholas. From their Daddy's love juice."

"I seen when babies was born. The mommy bitches get all fat and then after a long time the babies come out of their bitch holes." I saw Daddy frowning. "I'm sorry. I forgot. I'm not supposed to use that word no more."

"That's right, Son. We never use the B word. But you are right, it does take a long time. Nine months. So let's see…" Daddy began flipping over the calendar pages. "…If you were conceived on that wonderful day, then your birthday would be, seven, eight, nine, here!!" Daddy drew a big birthday cake on the date nine months after he first inseminated me. I giggled. I was so happy. I finally had a real birthday!

"How old will I be then, Daddy?"

"Hehe, well you are much too big to be a newborn, Son. In fact, you keep getting bigger every day! I think on your first birthday, we're going to say you are eight years old. How's that, Son?"

Every day, when I came home from school, I would flip the calendar pages and locate my birthday. I couldn't wait for that special day to arrive. Days passed into weeks and weeks passed into months and then there were fewer and fewer pages to flip each day. Daddy and I began making plans for my first-ever birthday party. We invited all the boys in my class and when the wonderful day finally arrived, we had a real cake with eight candles, and ice cream and cookies and party hats. We played pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey and whacked a piñata. And I got presents, lots and lots of presents!!!

Daddy made me so happy, I almost forgot about my early years with Father. And I'm sure I made Daddy happy also. Sometimes, after our bath, we would be lying in bed, in no hurry to put on our pajamas. He would have one strong arm around my shoulders and with his other hand, he would point to my body parts. "Son, I love your boy nose; it is so cute. I love your boy hair, the way it never lies flat. I love your cute ears and your adorable lips. I love your smooth chin. I love your little nipples and your smooth chest. I love your boy arms; I see you're getting some muscles, Son. I even love your armpits." At this point, he would raise my arm and lick my pit and I'd giggle. "I love your smooth belly and that precious belly button. I love your tiny boy dick and your tiny boy nuts." And then he would fondle them so lovingly. "They are so smooth. Just like your lovely smooth bottom and your beautiful smooth legs." It seemed like Daddy's favorite word for my body was "smooth."

I had a great ten-speed bike that I rode all over the neighborhood, racing with my friends. I had a big collection of action figures. Sometimes, my friends invited me over to their houses for sleepovers, although we never did much sleeping. We joked a lot, and ate a lot. I noticed that my friends had their own bedrooms. When I asked Daddy about that, he said our bedroom could be mine, as long as he was allowed to come in it. I laughed, but he was serious. He hired a decorator and soon the bedroom was repainted and decorated in a basketball theme. Daddy's closet was enlarged to accommodate his dresser, and so I truly had my very own room! And, of course, I always invited Daddy to sleep in my room. Except when I had boy friends come for sleepovers; then Daddy sweetly slept on the couch in the living room, and pretended he always slept there.

Daddy taught me to cook. I helped him clean the apartment, but it didn't seem like a chore, because we worked together. He took me hiking and fishing in the mountains, and in the summers we went on long trips all over the country. My friends went to summer camp, but they said they were jealous of me. One time, Daddy asked me to pick two of my closest friends, and the four of us spent a week at Disney World.

I couldn't imagine how life could possibly be any better. Every birthday, as I stared at the candles and got ready to blow them out, nine candles, ten candles, eleven candles, I always thought back to the night Daddy conceived me, the night I became his real true son.

Chapter 3
I become a slave

So often, Daddy would kiss me and say, "Son, you are the most precious thing I have. You are worth every penny." I realized that Daddy had indeed purchased my freedom from Father. He not only rescued me, he redeemed me. I had no idea how much Father got for me, but Daddy assured me I was "worth every penny."

I got taller of course, and stronger. I was quite the athlete in school. I could outrace every boy in my class. I was one of the best pitchers in little league. I had started taking karate and was quickly working my way up through the belts. Soon after my twelfth birthday, I was changing into my Gi when I noticed a couple of hairs above my penis. I smiled to myself. I knew it meant I was becoming a man. I did extra well that day in class and my instructor praised my performance.

That night, as Daddy and I were taking our bath, Daddy suddenly noticed my new pubic hairs. "What the hell is that!" he yelled. We both stood up in the water. I was shaking. I didn't know what was wrong. Daddy climbed out of the tub and dried himself off. "That's it, Kid. You can sleep on the couch. I'm going to bed."

I cried myself to sleep that night. I was all alone. No warm arms to hug me, no loving cock to fuck me. I didn't know then what I had done wrong. Now I know. I grew up. Daddy saw those scraggly hairs and knew what was coming next. Soon, my smooth body would be covered with the stuff. Hair would be everywhere: on my chin, under my arms, on my legs, arms and balls, and all around my shit hole. And my boyish face would get all pimply. And my little dick would become an oozing cock. And my sweet boy voice would crack.

I could no longer be the Son he wanted. The Son he loved. Now I was the Kid. I no longer had a love hole, just a shit hole. I spent several weeks on the couch. We didn't talk much. My grades fell. I was lost. I knew I had disappointed Daddy but there was nothing I could do about it. My body refused to stop growing.

One day, Daddy went around the house removing all the pictures of me. School pictures, team pictures, vacation pictures. He dropped each one in the shredder as I watched, my eyes wet with tears. Next, he placed a picture of a little boy about seven on the wall. He was a cute youngster. Daddy said he was Ricky. I knew Daddy had already found a new smooth boy to share his bed with. I was wondering how I was going to fit into his plans. Apparently, I didn't. A few days later, I saw that he'd gotten rid of my bike, all my toys, and most of my clothes.

One morning, after a couple months, Daddy finally spoke to me. "Get in the car, Kid." I was not 'Son' any more. We drove three hours in complete silence. When he turned off the car, we were at an old farmhouse. "Get out, Kid." A man came over to the car and Daddy spoke to him. "This is him. Now where's my money?"

"Hold on a minute, fella. I got to inspect the merchandise." The man stared at me. "Get over here, boy."

He pawed at my body, feeling every part with his filthy sweaty hands. He opened my mouth and examined my teeth. He told me to drop trou and he poked at all my privates. "OK, I guess it'll do." He handed Daddy a wad of bills. Money Daddy could use to buy lots of nice new toys and clothes for little Ricky.

I pushed myself over to Daddy's window and grabbed his neck. "No, Daddy, No. Please, don't leave me here. Please. I'll do anything for you." Daddy pushed me off and stepped on the gas. I wanted to run after the car but my pants were still down around my ankles. The stranger grabbed me, and as strong as I was, I couldn't wriggle free.

"You ain't going nowhere, you understand?" He pushed me over a rail and walloped my bare ass hard with his hand. After too many spankings to count, he dragged me indoors and pulled a paddle off the mantle. Then he hit my ass several more times with it. "I paid good money for you. You are mine now, and you will do whatever I say. Now, say, 'Sir, Yes, Sir'."

I mumbled, "Sir, Yes, Sir."

He brought the paddle down again. "Louder, I didn't hear you."

"Sir, Yes, Sir!"

"OK, then. I am the Master. You are the slave. I intend to get my money's worth. Whenever you speak to me, you will begin the sentence with 'Sir' and end the sentence with 'Sir'. You got that?"

"Sir, Yes, Sir!"

"You will call me 'Master' or 'Sir' or 'Master Johnson'. You got that?"

"Sir, Yes, Sir!"

"What's your name, boy?"

"Nicholas."

He hit me again. "What?"

"Sir, My name is Nicholas, Sir."

"Not any more, here you are slave nicky. Now say it."

"Sir, i am slave nicky, Sir."

"Hmmm, I see slave nicky learns fast. I was told you were damn smart. I was also told you're a damn good fuck. Give Master Johnson a blow job and then we'll test out slave nicky's chute."

"Sir, Yes, Sir!" I climbed off Master's lap, opened his fly and pulled out his schlong. As I sucked his filthy cock off, he pressed my head down and my nose was buried in his stinky sweaty pubes. I wondered what else Daddy had told Master Johnson about me.

Five years earlier, I had been made a son with a loving fuck from Daddy, and seven years before that, I had been christened a bitch with a fuck from Father. Now, Master Johnson was about to use a fuck to make me a slave. When his cock was primed with my slobber, he pushed me down on all fours and fucked me like a pig, rough and hard. It hurt like hell. But he kept saying, "You like this, don't you, slave nicky?"

"Sir, Yes, Sir! Sir, that is how i like to be fucked, Sir."

When he was finally through with my initiation fuck, he settled back in his chair. i bent over to pull up my pants. "No you don't. Take them off, slave nicky. And the rest of your clothes."

"Sir, Yes, Sir!" i stripped.

"A slave doesn't wear clothes unless Master has a reason for it. Pick them up and carry them outside."

"Sir, Yes, Sir!" i did as i was told. Master told me to drop them in a pile, my shirt, pants, underwear, socks and sneakers. Then He handed me a can of gasoline and told me to douse the pile. He handed me a match and then laughed as i set my own clothes on fire. Now i had nothing to call my own. i was totally His.

Back inside, He took a metal chain dog collar off a hook in the kitchen and told me to put it on. It had a lock on it. He locked a metal chain leash to the collar, then made me watch as he took the only key and put it in His wall safe.

"Now, your daddy said you knew how to cook. Make me supper, slave nicky. And it better be good. You got forty minutes. That's plenty of time, because you're only making enough for one. Is that clear?"

"Sir, Yes, Sir." i went into the kitchen dragging my leash. i looked in the cupboards and refrigerator, and decided to make Master a steak dinner with potatoes and beans on the side.

Exactly forty minutes later, Master shouted, "Time's up, slave nicky. Get your ass in here."

i brought Him His dinner and stood behind Him while He ate. He seemed satisfied. When He was finished, He asked for the paddle. i didn't know what was wrong with the meal. Maybe the steak was too rare or too well done. How was i to know? He gave me several whacks. "Sir, i'm sorry, Sir. Sir, please tell me what i did wrong, Sir."

"Wrong? Fuck, slave nicky. Dinner was great. Your daddy was right. You do know how to cook."

"Sir, Thank you, Sir. Sir, then why did you paddle me again, Sir?"

"No reason. I just felt like it. It makes me feel good."

Master pulled my leash and dragged me over to couch. He made me His footstool as He sat, smoked His cigar, drank His beers, and watched TV. He used my upturned ass for His ashtray. When He was too drunk to stay awake, He dragged Himself off to bed and dragged me behind Him. He hooked my leash to a bracket on the wall and locked it with another padlock. i was told i could sleep on the floor. i was also told i better be housebroken. It didn't matter, for i hadn't eaten or drunk anything since i arrived. my stomach was turning knots as i fell asleep.

Over the next few days, i learned my routine. i woke up early each day and asked Master to unlock me from the wall. Then i went outside to shit and piss and try to wash using a bucket of cold water from the pump. Then i cooked Master's breakfast. i poured myself a bowl of dry dogfood and Master wet it with His morning piss. Throughout the morning, i straightened up the house, and then made lunch.

In the afternoon, i did chores outdoors and then made supper. In the evening i was the footstool. That was my day. Of course, at any point, the routine might be interrupted by Master either paddling my ass or fucking it.

Sometimes, Master would rent a BDSM video and make me watch it with Him. Then we would reenact the most sadistic scenes. This gave Him a lot of pleasure.

i wondered how long i could keep going like this. my adolescent body needed more than kibbles'n'bits. i was turning into a bag of bones. But apparently, Master was getting bored with me. Perhaps he expected me to be more feisty, more resistant, more in need of the type of discipline he delighted in administering. Instead, i was compliant, subservient, submissive. i didn't need him to break me in. Life had already thoroughly broken me.

Chapter 4
I become a street whore

After less than two years, Master Johnson sold me to a pimp in Albuquerque, Billy the Quid. Billy made sure I ate well because if I wasn't fit, I wouldn't bring in the business. And the business was all that mattered to Billy.

Billy's stable consisted of six boys ranging in age from almost 14 (me) to almost 18 (Black Jack). In between were gorgeous Louie (16), the twins Rusty and Ramon (15) and Tommy, 14½ and blond. Every night around eight, we were put on the streets to start hustling, near Acoma Road. Billy usually picked us up in his pink Caddy around 2:30 AM. We'd go back to Billy's pad and give him our earnings. Whoever had the most got to sit beside Billy while all the other boys fucked the shit out of the lad who brought in the least. Louie was most often the kid next to Billy watching our gang bang. He had a swagger, a wiggle in his ass, that seemed to be a magnet for the johns. Black Jack or one of the twins was usually the one getting fucked. Whether it was his age or his race, for some reason Jack couldn't attract many johns. The twins I think were just not all that eager to pick men up. I don't know, maybe they liked getting gang banged. I had three advantages. First, I was young and the johns really liked that. Second, I learned quickly, picking up tips from Louie, even though he wasn't willing to give away his trade secrets. Third, I was determined to keep this gig going as long as possible. With a place to stay, food to eat and sexy clothes to wear, it was certainly better than at Master Johnson's, though I still had daydreams about Daddy. I even wondered how little Ricky was getting along.

Often, the john who picked me up only wanted a quick blow job in the car. In a few minutes, I'd have my fee and be back on the street. I could collect a lot of dough just blowing guys. If he wanted a fuck, that took more time so of course it cost more. It might be in the back seat of his car or even in a cheap motel. I'd be lying in bed shouting for him to fuck me harder, but hoping he could get it over soon so I could get back to work.

Billy also pimped for us, cruising the streets, looking for men who might want to 'date' a nice teen boy. When he found one and determined his AoA (age of attraction), he'd page one of us to meet him. I liked getting the page. The pay was better and it was a hell of a lot easier than hustling. I made sure the client got good service. At the end, I'd point to my ass and coo, "Any time you want more of this, you just ask for Nicky." After a while, I had several regular customers, which pleased Billy as well. I even had a few guys who wanted me to top them. They got their jollies having a horny teen cock rammed up their ass.

Jack was only there a few months after I arrived. Billy said he wasn't earning his way and so he got rid of him. I didn't know how. The rest of us grew older under Billy's care. Hormones had their predictable effects on my teenage body. Billy took care of the hair problem by waxing all the fur from the neck down and making sure we shaved our faces. Just like Daddy, his clients preferred smooth.

Billy also taught us to handle our beer and to use poppers. He provided us with just enough heroin to keep us happy, without messing up our product.

Every two years, Billy sold the pink Caddy and bought a new one. He always wanted to have the fresh model, with all the latest features. As it turned out, that standard also applied to his boys. When I turned 15, Louie was approaching 18 and despite his skills, wasn't able to hook as many johns as before. Billy gave him stern lectures and warned him that he'd have to shape up or ship out. He was shipped out and the stable was down to four. That's when Billy acquired Amahl. I guess he figured since Jack left, the stable needed a token black. Amahl said he was 14 but he looked 12 to me. At 17, the twins were now the seniors and blond Tommy was 16. One or the other of the twins was now always the object of the nightly gang bang. Amahl loved testing out his little cock, with its new boycream, on their assholes.

One afternoon, we were all trying to get in some sleep when the doorbell rang. Through sleepy eyes, I saw Billy talking to a man. He handed Billy a small case which Billy opened and I saw it was full of money in small bills. Now, I was waking up. I assumed it was a drug deal. When Billy finished counting, he said, "OK, you can take them." He walked over to Ramon and Rusty's bed and kicked them, told them to get dressed and handed them over to the stranger. I never saw them again. I guessed that Billy had also sold Black Jack and Louie when they got too old for the business. I also guessed that eventually I would also be sold. Now it was blond Tommy, me, and little Amahl. That wasn't enough ass to keep the business alive, so Billy soon brought in three more young urchins. Even after Tommy came of age and was old enough to retire to the stud farm, Billy kept him on. His blond hair and boyish looks still made for a saleable product. The same could not be said for me.

Chapter 5
I become a wife

Soon after my eighteenth birthday, Billy drove me to a corner to meet Fred. Fred was one of my regular dates. I knew I made him happy. In the last few months, he had requested me specifically several times. Fred was in his forties, but still physically fit. Handsome in a way. He'd take me to a nice hotel, fuck me all evening and into the morning, order breakfast from room service, then fuck me again before taking me back to meet Billy. I knew he paid Billy well for my company. I always thought Fred was a decent john.

This particular date went according to routine. However, after the breakfast, he kept on fucking me until it was after noon. I said something about Billy being mad if I was late getting back.

Fred laughed. "You're not going back, Nicky. I took care of things. You're going to stay with me now. Isn't that great?"

"Um, I don't understand, Fred."

"Sure you do, Nicky. You're a smart young man. Billy doesn't need you any more, and I do. So we made an arrangement. You're going to live with me now. You're going to be my, let's see, 'live-in lover'? 'paramour'? 'concubine'? hehe. How about 'wife'? How does that sound, Nicky. You can be my wife. Come on, get your clothes on, I'll take you home."

We drove all day and through the night. I shared the driving even though I didn't have a license. It was all easy interstate. Finally we arrived in Memphis, where Fred ran an architectural firm with major projects downtown. Fred had a traditional colonial with gardens and a pool out back. I settled in quickly to the wife's role, cooking, baking, washing, cleaning, while Fred was at work, and then in the evening, caressing and snuggling with him. And finally getting fucked before going to bed, and often a few times after.

I met Fred's business associates and other acquaintances. He brought me to parties and seemed to take pride showing off the young stud he'd landed. We made up a story about meeting in a gay bar. He didn't want people to know I'd been a hooker. When Fred gave a party, I made sure I was the perfect hostess. I could shmooze with Moran the artist who once had a show at MOMA as easily as with Mrs. Armbruster who had a collection of gowns for her Barbie Doll worth over $10,000. Some of the outfits were designed by Paris couturiers. Whoever was at the party was made to feel welcome.

After a couple months, Fred joked that he wanted to make an honest woman of me. We were going to have a wedding. We rented out a private hall and invited everyone he knew, gay couples, straight couples, lesbian couples, gay and straight singles, both male and female, and a smattering of TV's and TS's. Fred and I waited in an anteroom during cocktails while the band played and hors d'oeuvres were served. Then the emcee announced the new bride and groom, Fred and Nicky. We walked into the hall. Fred was decked out in a handsome tux with white bow tie and cummerbund. Me? Well, Fred had me wear a short bridal veil and carry a bouquet of red roses. That's all. Just the veil and bouquet. Otherwise, I was butt naked. We walked into the middle of the hall and everyone was laughing. I enjoyed making all his friends happy. Every table had a throwaway camera, so there would be plenty of pictures to remember the evening. The emcee announced our first dance and Fred waltzed me around the floor. Then the other guests joined us on the dance floor. As they passed by us, they began to pinch my buttocks. Dozens of pinches. I knew my ass looked like the red bouquet in my hand. As some of the trannies passed by, I whispered to Fred, "Do you want me to be a woman like them?"

"Hell, no, Nicky Honey. If I'd wanted that, I'd be straight." He grabbed my dick as we danced. "I like a guy who's got one of these, and I want everyone to know you got it. Just because you're my wife doesn't mean you ain't a man!"

"I like the sound of that word, Fred. 'Wife.' Man and wife. Forsaking all others."

"For richer, for poorer."

"For better, for worse."

"'Til death do us part."

It's good we didn't have children. It would be difficult to explain our wedding album. But I was totally happy. I had a man who really loved me, like Daddy had, or so I thought at the time. For eight years, we did everything couples do. Fred bought me expensive suits and jewelry. He took me to concerts and plays. We went on cruises and spent a month at a Spanish villa. I learned about fine wine and fine music. I even earned my GED, and began taking courses at the community college in art history and graphics design.

Fred and I often talked about the future. When he turned fifty, he began to talk of retirement. We discussed the relative advantages of Florida vs. Arizona vs. Hawaii. I was so happy.

One night, I came home from my college art class and walked into the house. I heard voices from the bedroom. I went to look, and there was Fred in bed with a kid about 18. I ran down to the kitchen crying. An hour later, the kid came down the stairs, glanced at me, said "Hi." and then walked out the door. Soon after, Fred came down and began mixing a scotch and soda.

"Who the hell was he?"

"I don't know his name. Just a kid. Sort of cute though, don't you think?"

"So, you've been fucking other guys behind my back, Fred? What about our vows? 'Forsaking all others'."

"Shit, Nicky, grow up. If I want to have a fling with a guy, that's my business. For all I know, you've probably been getting laid these nights you say you're at class."

"I do not fuck around, Fred. I thought you knew I love you. I've always been faithful. I would never cheat on you."

"Cheating? Come on, Nicky. We're grown men. If you want to fuck other guys, I don't care. It's not like we're really married, you know."

"I want a divorce."

"Oh, that's rich!! We're not married so we can't get divorced."

"Then I'm leaving."

"No, you're not, Nicky. I own you. I paid Billy a lot of money for you. If you want out, you're going to have to buy your body back." I couldn't believe what I was hearing. The past eight years had been a lie. The wedding, the talk about retirement, the love nest, all lies. All I was to Fred was a piece of ass he bought. My body had never been my own. It had been sold over and over for 26 years.

In the next few months, Fred continued to use my ass as he pleased. I just couldn't bring myself to show him the love I once felt for him. But I knew he owned my shit hole. I wondered how I could get a job and how long it would take to buy my ass back. Fred often brought toy boys into our house, into our bed, and insisted I watch him fuck them. One in particular, a stud named Zach, came by several times. I noticed he and I were similar in height and build. After I watched Fred fuck Zach, then both of them would take turns fucking me. I began to truly hate the man who I thought was my husband.

Chapter 6
I have a true family

After a few more months, Fred told me we were having a couple for dinner, that I should make something nice. In public, we were still putting on the pretense of being a happy pair. I cooked a delicious dinner and decorated the table with live flowers and fine linens. Fred and I dressed semi-formally. When Mr. and Mrs. Klein arrived, I offered them cocktails and we made small talk. They were about the same age as Fred, sophisticated yet easy-going. Dinner was a hit. But after the meal, Fred excused himself and closed the den door behind him. I thought that was an awkward thing for the host to do, and I tried to be nice to our guests. I made some excuse about his not feeling himself lately.

"Don't worry, Son," Mr. Klein explained. "We asked to to have some time alone with you."

"Yes," Mrs. Klein added. "We want to get to know you better. Come let's sit on the couch in the living room. Please tell us more about yourself."

They began asking me questions about the types of activities I enjoyed. I described the parties Fred and I put on, the intriguing guests we'd entertained. I spoke of our cruises. I mentioned how I enjoyed decorating our home and gardening. The Kleins kept smiling and nodding. Then they began to grill me with awkward questions. I found myself admitting to them some of the seamier eras of my life. I told them how Fred had taken me off the streets by paying off Billy my pimp. And how Billy had purchased my ass from Master Johnson who had bought me from Daddy. I told them how much I loved Daddy and how I thought he loved me. Mrs. Klein put her arm around my shoulders sympathetically. I found my face pressed into her breast. Then I felt Mr. Klein's hand on my crotch. I explained how Daddy wasn't really my Daddy, that he had bought me from Father. When I began relating about Father's women, the Kleins took special interest. They asked me in detail what I did when I accompanied a mommy as she pleasured some man. Soon the Kleins were taking turns french kissing my mouth. And then they began disrobing me in tandem. It was weird but they did it so tenderly and gently, I just yielded to them. I didn't feel I owed Fred any loyalty. When they had me standing between them totally naked, Mr. Klein began probing my asshole with his tongue while Mrs. was blowing my cock. Logically it was totally absurd, but it felt so good, so right.

"Come, Son," Mr. Klein said, "take us to your bedroom." I hesitated.

"It's OK, Son," assured Mrs. Klein. "Fred won't mind."

They each took one of my hands and I led them naked to the bed where I had once found love with Fred. In my mind, I kept thinking, "They called me Son. Just like Daddy used to." Once we were in the bedroom, the Kleins took their clothes off, as they both continued to kiss my mouth and fondle my cock 'til it was erect and throbbing. Mrs. lay down on the bed and said softly, "Fuck me, Son." Again I hesitated and looked at Mr.

He smiled and nodded. "Yes, please fuck my wife. We would both like that very much." OK, the husband had now told me he wished to cuckolded. Mrs. lay there on the bed, her legs spread wide apart and her knees raised. I stared at her and now I had a new hesitation. I had never fucked a cunt in my life.

As I lay down on top of her, my inexperience soon became evident to them as well. "That's all right, Son," she said. "I'll help you. There's a first time for everything." She did help me and soon I was pumping her pussy full of my cockjuice while both she and her husband were screaming.

After I pulled out, Mrs. instructed me to lick the cum out of her the way I did when I was a little boy. I obeyed. As I slurped and swallowed my own jizz, I found myself mumbling the word 'Mommy', like I did as a kid. I pulled back and now I saw Mr. had a raging hardon. I climbed off his wife and he then plowed her. Soon they were screaming again. When he finished, once more they asked me to felch her. As I did this time, Mrs. caressed my head with her maternal hands while Mr. began sucking my cock. I backed off her again and smiled at her, with her husband's cum leaking off my lips. Just then, I felt Mr. Klein's hands spreading my ass cheeks. He was already hard again and was preparing to fuck my ass. I rested my head between Mrs. Klein's warm breasts and steadied myself with my elbows on either side of her pelvis. Soon her husband was pounding away at my manhole. With every thrust, I could feel his balls knock against my buttocks. He let loose a series of cum shots deep into my butt.

"So, what do you think of him?" It was Fred's voice. He was standing at the bedroom door. How long had he been there? All three of us turned our faces to Fred without changing position.

The two Kleins began talking at once, interrupting and finishing each other's sentences. "Oh, Nicky is a marvelous boy. Just what we were hoping for. He is perfect in so many ways. He fucks so well, both giving and taking." Then Mr. Klein laughed, "Well, I haven't had a chance to take him yet, but there'll be plenty of time for that." Mrs. Klein then remarked what a delicious meal I had prepared and how neat the house was. "Frankly, Fred, we don't know why you would want to part with such a wonderful young man."

"Well, business is business. So then, we have a deal?"

Mr. Klein stood up, picked up his jacket and took out his checkbook. He wrote the check and handed it to Fred. "That's the amount we agreed on."

"Yes, but you can't have him until the check clears."

"Of course, we understand." Mr. Klein turned to me and smiled. My head was still resting on his wife's breast and my ass was still dripping his cum. "We'll come back for you in a week, Nicky."

So that was it. I'd been sold again. ''Til death do us part' apparently meant ''Til Fred gets a better offer'. But Fred owned me for seven more days and he fully intended to get as much from my ass as he could in that time. He fucked me two or three times a day, and each evening, brought in some young stud to fuck in front of me, and then told the boy to fuck my ass. One night, Fred brought home two brothers so one could be fucking me while Fred fucked the other. They traded off several times.

On the seventh day, while I was getting dressed after Fred had given me a morning fuck, I heard the bell ring and ran to open the door. I had no idea what the Kleins wanted to do with me, but I couldn't wait to get out of Fred's house. But it wasn't the Kleins at the door. It was Zach. "Oh, it's you again." He was wearing a tight faded wife beater with the words 'Eat your heart out' on it, tight jeans with big holes in both knees and one on his rump that revealed the absence of underwear, and worn sandals.

He pushed me aside and skipped up the steps to the bedroom. "You better come, too, Nicky. You know Fred will want you there." He was right. Fred still owned my ass and so I dragged it along.

In the bedroom, Fred opened my closet, that is, the closet with my clothes. Well, of course they weren't my clothes any more than my ass was mine. I had no more claim on them than Barbie had on Mrs. Armbruster's designer gowns. I was Fred's toy and so everything belonged to Fred. He took out one of 'my' suits and tossed it to Zach. "Here, try this on." Zach got out of his ratty clothes and put on the suit. It fit him perfectly. "Zach looks good in that suit, doesn't he, Nicky?" Fred kept handing him more clothes to try on as I watched. Then Fred told me to strip and hand those clothes to Zach to put on. "You're a handsome guy, Zach. Those clothes never looked better." Zach grinned at me. "Well, it looks like we have some time before they get here, and Nicky is all naked so let's have ourselves some ass. What do you say, Zach?" Zach was already taking off my pants, his pants now. Fred and Zach took turns fucking my ass for the last time. When they were both spent, Fred threw me the clothes Zach had walked in wearing. "Here, Nicky, put these on. Zach won't be needing them. Just like we won't be needing you any more." Again, Zach grinned as I slid my body into his awful outfit.

The bell rang and I raced to the door again. Thankfully, it was the Kleins. They both kissed me. "Come on, let's get out of here," I said.

"You don't have any luggage?" I shook my head.

Fred came over to the door in his bathrobe. Zach was naked, hanging on his neck and grinning at me. Fred said nothing after I'd been his wife for eight years. Zach said, "Don't come back." The door slammed.

We flew in Mr. Klein's private jet to New York where they owned a huge home in an exclusive part of Westchester. In the days that followed, they told me their own history. They were never able to have children. As Mr. Klein got older, he was finding it more and more difficult to satisfy his wife. They both agreed they should hire young male prostitutes for Mrs. Klein. Mr. Klein loved his wife completely and wanted her to be satisfied in every way. He would sit quietly in the corner and glow with warm fondness as he watched the young men fuck his beautiful wife. But then he began to notice something peculiar. The scene in his bedroom was making him horny. It stimulated him and so one day he joined the boy on the bed for a ménage à trois. It was wonderful. Time after time, a boy in his early twenties would be hired to perform sex with both the Kleins. The boy fucked Mrs. Mr. fucked Mrs. The boy fucked Mr. Mr. fucked the boy. They fucked Mrs. in both her ass and pussy and of course all three sucked and rimmed and felched each other. It was working fine, except that some boys performed this variety of tasks better than others. They decided they needed to find a permanent partner with reliable performance. And while they were at it, it wouldn't hurt if he could do some cooking and cleaning. That way, they could tell all their friends he was their houseboy.

I fit the bill perfectly. I could prepare meals for three as easily as for fifty. I kept every room in their house spotless, and the gardens weedless. The Kleins owned an extensive art collection and appreciated the fact that I knew something of the subject. And every night, I gave them what they wanted and needed in the bedroom. Though I was the houseboy, the Kleins used the affectionate 'Son'. I loved them like the parents I never had, like the Daddy I thought I once had. I would do anything for them.

In the winter, I went with them to their home in Fort Lauderdale, with frequent flights to the slopes in St. Moritz. In the summer, we went to their beach house on the Riviera.

The Kleins entertained often and always introduced the houseboy to their friends. Everyone was impressed by the fine young man. I was embarrassed by all the attention, but I loved the warm feelings I had inside. On High Holy Days, I went to synagogue with the Kleins. Several of the congregants tried to set me up with their daughters, and a few with their sons. I felt deep in my heart I was finally part of a real family.

Of course, my head told me something different from my heart. When I thought about it rationally, I realized the Kleins had purchased my body like all the owners before them. That meant they could just as easily sell me to someone else, if and when they tired of me. I chose to live in the moment, rather than dwell on either the past or the future.

That's why, four years after I arrived, I was so shocked when I was preparing supper one afternoon and got a call from the hospital. The Kleins had been in a serious auto accident. I sped over there and saw them both while they were still conscious. I kissed each one and heard each whisper in my ear that they loved me. Then they were gone.

The Kleins were laid to rest and the Rabbi helped me arrange a beautiful memorial service. I sat shiva for seven days, and all the Kleins' friends came by to console me. They told me I was like a son to the Kleins.

After shiva, I put on fresh clothes and went for an appointment with the Kleins' lawyer to hear the reading of the will. They had left a generous contribution to the synagogue and another to the local art museum, but the rest of their entire estate, their three homes, their cars, their plane, their art collection, their liquid assets, all went to Nicholas, their houseboy. The lawyer assured me the will was incontestable and anyway there were no known relatives to make any claim.

At thirty years of age, I was a multimillionaire. More importantly, I was finally free. No one owned me. I owned myself.

Chapter 7
I am free

As I thought about my life, the way I was treated by one owner after another, I recalled the old adage, "Don't get mad, get even." So I hired a private investigator who was able to locate Father, Daddy, Master Johnson, and Billy. I presented enough evidence to the authorities to have all four put behind bars for child abuse, corrupting the morals of a minor, involuntary servitude, pandering and an assortment of other charges. As I sat through each of their trials, I had to gloat.

It turned out Father's place was an hour outside Deming, NM, near the Mexican border. Some of his ladies were actually wetbacks who'd been tricked into prostitution, but most of his girls were homebred. Father was about twenty-five years older now than when I knew him. But he still ran his harem of girls and still took great pride in taking every little baby in the house and splitting open its tiny little sphincter. So there was plenty of physical evidence to the sexual abuse that went on at his house.

Over the last twenty years, Daddy had gone through Ricky, Julio, and Desmond, getting rid of each one when he showed the slightest sign of pubescence. Nine-year old Armando was in the Tucson coop when the police picked Daddy up. The lad cried hysterically when Daddy was led away in cuffs. He still thought Daddy loved him.

We discovered sleazy Master Johnson had set up his hovel inside the Walnut Canyon National Monument, so he was a squatter in addition to other things. When the cops raided his place, they found a naked malnourished lad chained to the wall.

Billy got a far lighter sentence than I thought he deserved. His band of boy hookers weren't as sympathetic as victims as the children in the other cases. But at least Billy spent some time in prison, where he learned what it really meant to be someone's sex toy. And his beloved pink Caddy was confiscated by the state.

Fred was another matter. What he was doing with males of legal age seemed to be with mutual consent. I knew Zach was still living with him. I didn't really resent Zach. He was just a pawn like I was. But I certainly resented Fred and all his lies. My well-paid legal staff decided we needed to use entrapment. I remembered Fred's words to the Kleins as he stood over the naked ménage à trois and discussed my future: "Business is business."

So, my lawyers contacted Fred and told him their client had an offer to make which must be discussed with the utmost discretion. We arranged to meet at an expensive restaurant in Memphis. Fred was surprised to discover it was me. I told him I thought Zach would be happier living with me. Fred told me he paid good money for Zach and I'd have to buy him. That's exactly what I expected him to say, what I wanted him to say. By this time I knew what every one of my owners had paid for me, including the Kleins. I asked Fred what Zach's price was. He quoted a figure nearly twice what the Kleins had paid for me. I guess that's inflation. I agreed.

The next day, I rang Fred's bell, and Zach answered the door in one of my old tennis outfits. "What the hell do you want? I thought I told you never to come back." This time I was the one smiling.

Fred called out, "Let him in, Zach. We have some business to conduct. So, Nicky, my man, did you bring the money."

"I certainly did, Fred. It's all in this attaché case. I didn't want to have to wait for a check to clear. I'll stand over here by Zach while you count it. I began squeezing Zach's ass.

Suddenly, he was putting two and two together. "Fred, you're not selling me, are you? After all these years? Come on, Man! You said you loved me." Fred made no reply as he counted the stacks of bills. "Shit, what did I do wrong, Fred? I did everything you asked. You can't sell me. Not to Nicky. Please, Fred." There were actual tears on Zach's cheeks.

Fred closed the case. "Yes, it's all here, Nicky. You can have him. Good doing business with you."

At that moment, the front door opened and two cops came in and handcuffed Fred. "You are under arrest for conspiring to traffic in human cargo."

"No, no, you have it all wrong. Nicky here is the one trying to buy Zach. He's the one you should be arresting." I casually unbuttoned my shirt. This time, it wasn't my well-toned pecs I wanted to show Fred. It was the wire. All of our dealings at the restaurant and there at the house were recorded on tape. The serial numbers of the money had all been listed, and all those bills now had his fingerprints. Fred didn't have a leg to stand on.

As Fred was taken away, Zach stared at me. "So, now you own me?"

"No, Zach, my young friend." I gave his ass another squeeze. "No one owns you. You are free. I suggest you get some big suitcases and pack up all your fine clothes to take with you."

"You mean your clothes."

"No, they're yours. You earned them." I turned to leave.

"Wait, come in, let's have a cup of coffee. I need to talk about this." For a couple hours, Zach and I sat in Fred's kitchen and discussed all the lies he had told both of us. Like myself, Zach had no lingering affection for the man he thought he loved. When he learned what had happened to the Kleins and that I was now alone, he asked a question, "Nicky, I'm going to need a place to live. Would you like a roommate for a while?"

I smiled. "Well, I could use a houseboy. I do remember you were pretty good at fucking, but I haven't had a chance to try out your asshole." We both laughed.

"And if we were roommates, we could share the same wardrobe."

"Well, I'm willing to give it a try, Zach, my friend. But there will be no commitments on either side. Anytime one of us wants out of the relationship, we'll shake hands as friends and move on. You don't own me, I don't own you."

"That sounds wonderful, Nicky. Frankly, I can't remember a time in my life when I was truly free." Zach kissed me and I helped him pack our clothes.

The End