Jack Rowan

The Story of Tim

Chapters 35-69

Chapter 35. Formalities

"Yes?"

"I am Master David. Master Paul is expecting me."

"Oh? Who's the boy?"

"That is Tim. He is my slave."

The slave sniffed.

"Children. Oh lord. This place has been a SHAMBLES today."

"Please take us to Master Paul."

"You'd better come in. Wait here. And don't let that kid loose, for fuck's sake."

He left us standing in the hall.

"I don't understand," said Tim. "He – If he doesn't like being a slave, why be one?"

"Many of Paul's trainees have been damaged in one way or another. One must make allowances. There are lots of kinds of abuse."

I could see him digesting this. Then the slave came back.

"You'd better come this way."

"Thank you. What is your name?"

"Damon."

"Thank you, Damon."

He looked at me oddly. He was quite a pretty boy, really, but his grimaces and mannerisms spoilt it. He led us back to the surgical-looking room.

"David! Everything's ready. Good. All okay, Tim?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you sir."

"Thank you, Damon, that will be all. Andrew will help."

Damon flounced out.

"So, did Damian set you up?"

"Yes, one of his heavy-duty chastity belts."

"Mm. You aren't going to be too tough, I hope. Damian goes too far with Max, in my opinion. It's true that fucking him is a dream, he just comes in buckets. And the screams! Amazing. But two years without a genital orgasm – well, it's two radical for me."

"Not really my style, either."

"Well, let's see, now. First we have these."

I could feel that the wrist-bands had a steel core, which the D-rings were set in, but they were covered with a fawn-coloured plastic, about a quarter of an inch [6 mm] thick on the inner surface, although just a skin outside.

"Unusual colour."

"Suits him. And they look pretty much like sweat bands. Come on, try."

I fitted the bands on Tim's wrists. They were quite tight. I slid the tongues in, and they locked. The keyhole was almost invisible. Paul was quite right. They really did look like sweat bands, or if you looked closer, the sort of leather bands many kids wore. He could wear them anywhere.

My eyes locked with Tim's. He was loving this.

Beneath each D-ring there was a kind of catch I hadn't seen before.

"Pressure catches. A new thing. Look."

He turned Tim round, pulled his hands together behind his back, pressed the wrists together, and they caught.

"You release here – look – there's a little indentation. Of course, Tim's fingers can't reach it."

He released Tim's hands.

"Stand in front of him," he said. "It's a knack. Try."

I looked into Tim's eyes and moved his hands behind his back, pressed them together. It worked. Tim's eyes had the blurred, unfocussed look which, I was learning, meant he was seriously turned on. I left his wrists connected.

Andrew picked Tim up under the arms and put him on the table.

"Now the ankles. They're the same, but a bit wider. Put them on."

I did, and then pressed his ankles togther. They caught as well.

"Undo them all. There's something I want to try."

I fumbled with the releases. It's a knack, as Paul said.

"Stand here, Tim. David – tell him to do it himself."

"Tim. Catch your wrists and ankles."

He obeyed. It took no more than a second, and he was bound hand and foot.

"Nice. Then there's this."

It was a gag, black, made of the same plastic, and moulded exactly to Tim's mouth. He had to open his mouth wide; then I pushed it in and buckled the strap behind his neck. A hole helped him to breathe.

"And finally."

Tim's collar. I had decided on a broad, black one, with four D rings and a lock. Paul had added pressure catches, at the back on the sides. It still looked no stranger than many teenagers wear.

I looked at my boy, gagged, his arms and legs clamped, staring at me with a wild look on his face.

"This is your collar, Tim. I'm going to put it on you now."

I clasped it round his neck. It set neatly, firmly; you could barely fit a finger inside it. The lock clicked home.

I decided to do the whole thing. I don't really go for this sort of stuff, but Tim did, and he was entitled to it.

"I call on you to witness that Tim Hamley is my collared slave. From him I require obedience and submission to the limit of his strength. To him I will give my protection, my love and my guidance, even at the cost of my life. So I swear, and so help me all the kindly powers."

"We witness," said Paul and Andrew.

I looked at Paul's Exact Endeavour, and felt something shift. It was disquieting.

"Take out his gag, and undo his catches, please, Andrew."

He obeyed. And my beautiful boy knelt before me, and kissed my feet, weeping.

Chapter 36. Yet More Truths

I crouched beside Tim and held him.

"David – Master – I'm so happy. I never thought, I just never thought it could be this good…"

I hugged him till he was quiet, then lifted him to his feet.

Paul poured the champagne, and gave a glass to each of us.

"Gentlemen," he said. "To a happy future for David and Tim."

We all drank. Paul insisted that Tim should drink the whole glass. He giggled and obeyed.

"Before we go, I'd like to have a few words with you. And Andrew, if you don't mind. In private."

"Of course. Damon!"

He must have been waiting outside the door.

"Please look after Tim for a few minutes. Now, David."

"May we sit down? Andrew too?"

"Of course. Andrew, dear boy, draw up a chair. Now what is this, David?"

"I wanted your advice. I discovered today that Tim was abused when he was younger. Seriously. Both physically and sexually."

"Who by?" asked Paul.

"I don't know. He won't say. He won't say much of what happened, either, but it affects him deeply. To start with, I thought I would have to call the whole thing off. He insisted – insisted with tears – that we shouldn't. But I – I've never been in this situation before. I hoped that you might help. You too, Andrew, because I know you were abused as well."

"May I speak freely, Master?"

"Of course."

"Sir, it's important that you find out exactly what happened. Otherwise you can't know where the problem areas are. With respect, that should be your first priority. Who the abuser was may also matter, especially if it's a family member who is still in touch with him. But the main thing is to find out exactly what happened to him."

"But how? It's all very painful for him and he finds it very hard to talk about it."

"Sir, if necessary, you must do it under the lash. It's not just for you, it's for him. Once someone else knows, everything is easier, it all falls into place and becomes less important. Master Paul had to do this for me. It was very terrible, but I regard those days as the start of my liberation."

"I agree with Andrew. It WAS a terrible time, but also glorious. I count it as one of my great achievements." He took Andrew's hand in his.

I tried to digest this. "And once I know? What then?"

"David, you know and I know, and Andrew knows if anyone does, that what we do is good. You must have faith in yourself, in your skills (which are far greater than mine, by the way), and in your love. The boy is clearly bats about you. If you find that he's been fucked, for example, then your job is to reclaim that. If he's been tormented in some way, to reclaim that. And so on. In the end the abuser will be driven out of him, there'll be nowhere left for him to stand. Do you see?"

"I agree absolutely, sir, with respect. You must confront the damage wherever it has happened, and overcome it."

I paused.

"Actually, that's almost exactly what Tim said. 'Once we've done it, it doesn't matter any more that HE did it'. That's what he said."

"Sir, I think he is right. With the greatest possible respect, sir, I think he has a better perspective on this than you do yourself at this moment. You have both the ability and the opportunity to cure that boy, sir, and I think it is incumbant upon you to do so. After all, sir, you have just taken an oath."

I straightened as if slapped. It was an astonishing thing for a slave to have said. I looked at Andrew with respect.

"Thank you for speaking frankly. You remind me of my duty, and you're right."

"May I say something else, sir? I suspect also, from what my Master has said, that he will agree with me. Tim is a very wonderful person, intelligent, beautiful and brave. It is enormously to your credit that despite his history he has given himself to you in such a wholehearted way. It is not the sort of thing that many Masters achieve."

"I did, though, didn't I, my boy? I did." Paul patted Andrew's hand quietly.

Andrew smiled at his Master, and suddenly I realised that it was time to go.

"We must go. Thanks for all you've said and done. Could you get Tim for me now?"

Chapter 37. A Knee in the Groin

We said our goodbyes. Paul hugged Tim fiercely, and wished him a good journey. Andrew kissed me, and I felt comforted by the embrace. He would be a wonderful Master, one of the greats. Today Tim and I reckon him our closest friend.

I helped Tim into the passenger seat, saw that he was comfortable despite his arms clamped behind him, and we set off.

Tim laughed.

"You know, he tried it on with me, that Damon fellow."

"He what?!"

"Almost as soon as we were out of the room. I called him sir, like you said, and asked what we were going to do. Next thing I knew, he'd clamped my wrists. He said he was going to give me the fuck my life."

"Good god!"

"I said no he wasn't, and he said he was the senior slave and I had to obey him. I said I would obey him in anything reasonable he asked. So he said, kiss him. So I kissed him."

"You kissed that little punk?!"

"Well, your orders were to defer to them, unless they wanted something, um, 'demeaning or humiliating'. Well, I figured kissing wasn't that, so I had to obey. It wasn't very nice. He smelt. And his mouth was all sticky."

"Tim! You did that because of my order?"

"Of course. I get off on obeying your orders. It may sound really odd, but there was an extra buzz in doing something really gross, just because you had ordered it. Is that weird?"

"No, people feel like that. I guess I shall have to be a bit more careful with my orders."

I wasn't joking. Tim was obviously going to grow into a bottom of the heaviest sort. I would have to keep an eye on him.

"Anyhow, the next thing he ordered was for me to kneel down and suck his dick. I thought of kneeling in front of him, and decided that was demeaning and humiliating all right. I had just knelt in front of you, and that wasn't demeaning or humiliating, it was the best moment of my life."

"Oh, Tim, my darling boy!"

"I'd kneel to you, because I love you, and you're a great Master, and all these other Masters and important slaves like Andrew treat you with respect and work through the night just because you ask them to, and STILL you swore an oath just to me, and gave me your ring and your collar, just for me, and you're always kind and polite even to waiters and people, and even to punks like him. So kneeling to you was NOT demeaning and humiliating, it made me BETTER. But I wouldn't kneel to him. It was wrong. It would be an insult to YOU, because I'm your slave and I have your ring and your collar, and so I'm entitled to some respect, no matter how junior I am."

Every word he said made me feel more and more the vast responsibilty he was. I prayed. I don't do that often, but I did it then.

"Anyhow, I said I wouldn't, and he said I had to, because he was senior. And I said that you had ordered that I wasn't to do anything demeaning or humiliating, so I wouldn't. And he said it was an honour to suck his bloody dick, and I said, it was up to me to decide that, and account for what I decided to you, not him, and I wouldn't kneel to him or suck his dick, and that was that. So then he said your orders didn't count, because you were in his Master's house, and I said, well in that case, why don't you go and ask your Master about it?"

I laughed. "He certainly isn't one of the brightest of god's creatures."

"So then he said, sod this, I think I'll fuck you straight away. But of course I knew he couldn't, because of the belt thing, so I wasn't too worried. Then he started to undo my trousers, and I couldn't stop him, because my hands were clamped, you see."

"Jesus, Tim. How horrible."

"And then I thought how you, even though you're a great Master and I want you to, you haven't fucked me yet just because you think it isn't the right time, and how when I thought Damian would fuck me and I safeworded, you both stopped absolutely at once, even though you're both great Masters and could fuck any slave you wanted, really. And I thought about some things that happened to me when I was little, and how I couldn't do anything about it then because of how little I was. And how now I am the slave of a great Master, and other Masters and high slaves like Andrew and Max were kind to me and gave me champagne and talked to me politely, and so now I ought to be able to stop nasty bastards like that from being horrible to kids like I used to be."

I looked at him in utter amazement.

"So I got really angry, and I kneed him hard in the balls, really hard, and as he was doubling up, I kicked him in balls too. And he fell down making groaning noises, and I wasn't sorry at all. Then I walked up the stairs, and Andrew came to get me."

I cheered. "Well done, little man!"

"So, did I do right? Did I do what you want me to?"

"Yes. I'll tell you another thing. You say you're the slave of a great Master, and I suppose that's right. But I am the Master of a wonderful slave, too. That's what Andrew said, and he should know. He said it did me great credit that you had chosen me, and he's right."

I could see Tim smiling at me.

"Did you mean that, when you put my collar on me? 'My protection, my love and my guidance, even at the cost of my life'?"

Actually, I hadn't really thought about it when I said it. I said it because that's what you say. But now I went over it, it was a pretty good summary. I guess that's what Chris meant when she said that things like that have an effect on you.

"Yes, I meant it."

"That's so lovely. When you said that, I felt as if I would be safe for ever, that everything would be all right for ever."

"Well, I'm afraid that…"

"Oh, of course I know there are problems. You can't stop it raining or me getting flu or failing an exam or whatever, or crashing a car and dying. But I know I can trust you and that's all that counts."

"I hope you haven't forgotten the 'obedience and submission to the limit of his strength' bit."

"'Course not. But that's easy. You know what I'm like. I'm a slave. That's how I work, like you said. I'm a true and complete submissive, that's what you called me."

We drove for a while in silence, in the dark.

"Perhaps I should ring up Paul and get him to give Damon a hard time."

"Yeah," said Tim, viciously. "Flog the fucker. In that basement with the torches."

I was a bit shocked. Somehow I expected Tim to tell me to drop it.

"You don't mind me snitching on him? After all, he's a slave like you. And Paul, well, he can be pretty hard."

"Snitching? What do you think this is, school? Aren't we on the same side? Can you imagine a slave like Andrew or Max keeping something from their Masters because it's snitching?"

I remembered Andrew recommending that Tim should be questioned 'under the lash', and thought it unlikely.

"Actually, no, I can't."

"Well, then. When, when I'm older, I want to be a slave like Andrew. Who's got respect by being a good slave. That's my ideal. To be like Andrew is, for you. I follow you, that's it."

"You're getting very assertive, Tim."

There was a pause. I couldn't see his face.

"I'm sorry, Master."

"Did I say I disapprove? As a matter of fact, I don't disapprove. One of the ideas of today was to try to help you to learn that being a 'true and complete submissive' or giving 'obedience and submission to the limits of your strength' doesn't mean being a snivelling toe-rag. It doesn't mean going BEYOND the limits of your strength, and it doesn't mean being less of a person, or having no respect for yourself. Meeting Andrew wasn't something I'd thought of, but if your ambition is to be like him, I can't think of a better one."

"Thank you, Master."

Chapter 38. Mira Again

"Can you unlock the strap in my arse? I need to…"

I was about to laugh, but I stopped myself. This was a difficult thing he was doing.

"I think we'll take off the arse strap. Maybe we'll put it back later. Take your trousers off."

He did, and I unlocked and removed the strap.

"Let me know if it gets less tight, okay?"

I looked at the mass of straps and leather pieces round him. It was just so hot. I smiled at him and ruffled his hair.

"Off you go, then."

The moment he was in the bathroom, the phone rang. It was Mira.

"Hello? David? I'm just taking a minute at lunchtime to call you. Everything all right?"

"Mira, everything is tremendous. We are having a great time."

"How's Tim?"

"He's fine. He's in the john just now."

"Well, last time I rang, it seemed that, well, you weren't too sure about things. So I wondered, well…"

"Oh gosh. Well look, I'd better just come out with it. I guess we've started, well, doing things. Mira, I…"

"Oh thank god, that's a MASSIVE weight off my mind. Is it all working out okay? Are you having fun?"

I paused.

"Mira, I'm a bit at a loss trying to work out what to say about it. This is the opening stage of a sado-masochistic relationship. There, I've said it. It's very high-pressure, very high emotion. Also, he's a kid, which means he's an idealist, which means that he wants everything at once. It's only a couple of days since we started, and it's me who's holding back."

"Okay, David, I hear you. That's exactly the sort of reason why I wanted you to do this, not just anyone."

"There are a couple of other things. The first is, this looks like being a long-term thing. The three of us will have to work out the logistics. He has his school, and exams coming up…"

"You want him living there?"

"Yes. Yes, I do, Mira. If it can be arranged without messing up his schoolwork."

"Probably doable. We'll talk about it later."

"Don't you mind?"

"Of course I bloody mind. He's my son, dammit, or as near as. But he wouldn't be going to the moon, and at least this way I keep him as a friend. Anyhow, it looks like I shall be out of the country for a lot of the next couple of years. What's the other thing, David? Sorry to hurry you, but I haven't got much time."

"The other thing is… Did you know he'd been abused when he was younger?"

"Oh. So you've bumped into that, have you? Fast work."

"You knew?"

"I suspected very strongly, let's say. But Tim has never mentioned it to me himself. I feel, well, just a touch jealous."

"Mothers never have cause to be jealous."

Mira laughed.

"Thank god for you, David. But I wish he'd told me."

"Let's just say that when he told me he was under very, very severe emotional stress."

"Lord, David, I don't like the sound of that."

"He's been giving as good as he gets, I can tell you."

"Ha! Never underestimate him, David."

"I don't. I don't at all. Let me tell you, Mira, has has already made a number of friends in my fairly close community. He is admired, and not just because he's a pretty face. He has a brain, and he has guts. There's nothing to worry about."

"Good."

"If it helps, I can tell you also that I'm good at what I do, Mira. I have a very good reputation. There are some bastards in my world, but I am not one of them."

"I knew you weren't. That's why I chose you."

"Thanks. Let me tell you one incident. This evening some unpleasant little punk got Tim alone on one side while I was busy. He tried it on. He ended up with a knee in his groin."

"From Tim?"

"Yes."

"Ha! What a marvellous picture. Okay, David, give him my love. I'll ring again later. And thanks."

Chapter 39. Feeling Sexy

"Did you tell Mira about – us?"

"Just a bit, yes."

"Oh. Are you sure that was a good idea?"

"Actually, yes. When we rang before, she more-or-less told me to go ahead. Or find someone else who would. She was quite worried about you."

"She told you to go ahead? Why?"

"She was worried you'd start experimenting with sm with someone and get into serious problems. Either the two of you wouldn't have a clue. Or you'd get off with someone really dangerous. So she brought you here."

"I love Mira. She's so different from Charleen, my first mother, you know. I suppose I shouldn't say that, because she's dead, but she was stupid. And I was just a nuisance to her. She was into drugs and drink in a big way, and lots of men. I just got in the way."

"Must have been pretty horrible."

"I don't want to talk about it."

I didn't press him. Not then.

"Has your belt got any looser now I've taken that strap off?"

"Nope. Just the same. Boy, is it sexy to wear! It keeps me on edge all the time. I keep trying to get hard, but I can't. Ouch." He smiled. His eyes were sultry. "Sexy all the time."

"Just what I want. Seething with frustration. And I've got the key."

"Let me get off. Suck me. Please!"

"No."

"I'll suck you too. Please!"

"You'll suck me anyhow, if I want. The answer is no."

"Oh, poo!"

He mimed a spoilt child. He was loving this. And every time he asked me, it was reinforcing what I wanted him to learn: that it was my decision.

"You should be grateful. Everyone else spends all this time worrying if they'll have sex, when they'll have sex, how they'll have sex and so on. You don't have to. It'll make life much easier."

"Yeah, but they get to wank."

"Too much wanking is bad for you. Anyhow, you're not going to wank at all from now on. It's over. Finito."

He pouted at me.

"I can't have you wasting all that sexual energy. I want you horny all the time. I'm going to have you bursting for it. Perhaps I should go for the Max treatment: zero orgasm."

"I'd hate it. Please don't. Please don't, David."

"I could, couldn't I?"

"Yes. But – but please don't."

"It's a very sexy thought, though, isn't it?"

"I guess so, as a theory. But I really hope you won't. Really."

I looked at him. He was begging me. His eyes were pleading. But if I did it, he'd accept it. It was delightful.

"Or, of course, I could cut it off."

He laughed.

"No, you couldn't. You said you wouldn't do me any permanent injury."

"True. Damn. I was just going to go and sharpen the veggie knife."

He laughed.

"Anyhow, I wouldn't, because I like it too much. It's a delicious mouthful. Which is why the Max option, dear Tim, isn't on. You will come again. Just when I say."

"Thanks." He licked his lips and smiled.

"By the way, you'd better not tell the other Masters that I suck you. It's considered unmasterly."

"No! Really? That's just stupid. When you sucked me on the Chair, that was pretty masterly. You – you really MADE me. That's when I became your slave for real."

"Lots of stuff like that is stupid. But don't offend the other Masters. It's vulgar. We don't do that."

"We?"

"You and me. We. We're a team. And we're the best, you'll see."

Tim stared at me, and there were tears in his eyes.

"That's all I ever want. I'm such as nothing, all the other kids hate me, the teachers call me a poof and sneer at me, Charleen loathed me, all her men were, were, well, I told you about that, they were horrible to me. I just thought I was filth to everyone except Mira. And then you take me to see those Masters and you're actually proud of me! And all I want is be with you and help you and make all the Masters and everyone respect you, because you're good."

I went and hugged him.

Chapter 40. Bedtime

"Okay, Tim, time for bed. Better go and have a shower. Try to wash as much under the belt as you can and dry yourself carefully."

"Heh. This'll be new."

While he was in the bathroom, I went to look at his bed.

Then I went to get some chains. I like chains. They don't stretch, and the chinking noise helps to remind the victim what's going on. I removed the duvet and fixed the chains to the four posts.

"Oh wow," said Tim coming into the room. He was wearing only the belt. It was quite a sight. I hugged him.

"Okay, Tim, time to take this off. Keep your hands away from your dick."

In a few moments he was naked. Instantly he started to get hard. He kept his hands behind his back, but strange little sounds came from him.

"On the bed and stretch out."

He did it. One by one I passed the chains through the D-rings of his wrist and ankle bands and padlocked them.

"Safe at last. This is how you'll sleep in future, unless you're sleeping with me. The chains are quite loose this time. We'll make them tighter gradually."

"David – I – God, this is sexy. Oh god. Oh god."

"And now a bedtime kiss."

I knelt by the bed and took his dick in my mouth. He screamed. I worked him for the very short time necessary to bring him to the edge. Then I stopped. Then I did the same thing again, three or four times. By now he was screaming for release, lunging aginst the chains, twisting and bucking in my mouth. I stood and looked down at him.

"You can't leave me like this! David! Please! Please!"

I stroked his hair.

"Night-night, Tim. Sweet dreams."

I turned off the light and shut the door.

Then I watched tv myself for a while, had a drink, went for a walk in the warm summer night. Life was good. Life was very good.

On the way to bed, I went again to his room. I could hear him moaning in his sleep, see his arms and legs spread-eagled, his beautiful head tossing on the pillow. I knelt and began again. In a moment he was awake, begging again, then shouting and yelling. Again I brought him to the edge three or four times. And left him, still screaming.

I set my alarm. I did it three times again that night.

The next morning he was barely coherent when I woke him.

"Damn you David, you bastard… All the night, god let me come, you bastard! Let me come, I'll die if I don't come…"

I did it once again, with him cursing and writhing. Then I went to the freezer and got a bowl of ice.

I tipped it over his dick and balls. He shrieked and in a few moments he was soft. I was able to work the belt round him. Then I released the chains and put him on his feet.

"Oh my god my god my god – David, please, please…"

"No. Go and have your shower. Jeans and a tee-shirt. Go."

He gave me one last pleading look, and went. I almost came in my trousers.

Chapter 41. Let's Watch a Video

I smiled tauntingly as he came to breakfast. Another sunny day. The sun caressed him.

"David, honestly, I thought I'd go mad. I can't go on like this!"

"You can. And you will. Eat up. A hard-working boy needs his food."

"Bastard."

But he smiled at me. We ate.

"Tim, I need to do some work this morning. Please clear up the breakfast things and then come through to my workroom."

I started into the chapter, and in a few minutes he joined me.

"Okay, Tim, come with me."

I led him into the living room and stood him in front of the tv.

"Clamp your wrists behind your back. And your ankles. And I think we need some peace and quiet round here."

I got his gag. He started to protest, but I silenced him with a glance. He opened up, and I gagged him. Then I put on one of my porn movies. Fifty minutes of men and boys fucking and sucking.

"Don't go away now."

His eyes beseeched me. I laughed and went to work. All the time the absurd sound track played in the background – 'Suck it, punk! Suck it! You know you want it! Fuck me ! Fuck me harder!' When I heard it stop, I went and rewound it and started it again. Tim's face, contorted by the gag, was unreadable. I laughed at him.

When it stopped for the second time, I went and unclasped him.

"Go and make me a cup of coffee. Bring it to me."

I returned to the workroom. Soon he appeared with the coffee.

"Thanks. Feeling sexy today, are you? Just a bit?"

He stared at me, his eyes pleading with me. A tear rolled down his cheek. This was wonderful. I was merciless.

"Go and rewind the tape and start it again. Then stand just where you were, looking at it, and clamp your wrists and ankles. Go."

He obeyed me. It was heaven. I heard the tape start again.

When it finished, I left him for a long time. Then I closed down the computer and went to make us a light lunch.

I took out his gag and unfastened him.

"Oh god – my mouth is so dry."

I gave him some water, and he drank.

"David, please, I'm begging you. Please. Please."

"No."

I looked at him, and I recognised the state he had reached. His need had taken over his mind, he was almost unable to think of anything else. It radiated from him. It was intoxicating. When I had done this with older men, it had taken days to reach this point. I had forgotten what rivers of hormones teenagers are.

He was ready.

"Come and eat. So, what did you think of the movie?"

His eyes stared at me flatly. He struggled to focus his mind.

"It was about men fucking. And sucking each other. And coming. They could come. Why won't you let me come?" he finished, plaintively.

"Well, what do you think of the characterisation?"

"Characterisation? There wasn't any. David, it was just people fucking and sucking, that's all. And coming. Coming lots and lots. Buckets. Dicks coming. That's all."

Trouble is, he was right.

"Eat. Come on, you usually have more appetite than this."

"Let me come, David, please let me come…"

And so on. I couldn't keep on with this. He would crack completely.

Lurid Desires came to my mind. It seemed to crackle round him, leering.

It was time to move on.

Chapter 42. Water

I kissed him. His kiss was frantic, almost insane, grabbing my body and my head, pressing into me.

"Present."

"Yes, sir."

Somehow, the discipline enforced itself.

"Elbows back more. Head up."

His mad eyes looked into mine.

"Good. Now take all your clothes off. Fold them carefully."

He did it. I made him fold his shirt again. He whined, but obeyed.

"Clamp your hands behind your back."

He did that too. Slowly I took off the belt. He stood naked, moaning and twitching, and already he was hard, dripping.

I led him into the bathroom.

"Have you ever had an enema?"

He looked at me blankly. "I – I don't know, sir."

"I'm going to give you one now."

His eyes looked at me in incomprehension. This would have to be done carefully. I couldn't have him coming now. But I wanted what was going to happen to be perfect, something he would remember with joy. He'd earned it.

I told him to lie face down on a chair, and there he lay, his hands still behind his back. I'd have liked him on my lap, but that was too risky. There would be times enough. Then I pulled the enema hose from the shower to him. It was a small nozzle, but I lubed it carefully.

"I'm going to put this in you now, Tim. Don't move."

Slowly I inserted it, and he winced.

"Now I'm going to turn it on. The water will go into you. Don't worry, it'll feel good most of the time."

I turned it on, a slow trickle. As the water started to run into his guts he moaned.

"Oh sir, that feels good. Oh sir, this is hot. Oh, sir. Oh sir…"

Then it hit a block and he yelped for a moment as his guts cramped; then the water ran again. He was giving out a kind of tuneless hum, now, as his insides swelled, and he turned and twisted. I held his hands and stroked his hair. Not too much. He mustn't come. He mustn't.

I switched off the water and stood him up. His belly swelled.

"Now wait. Don't let it out. Not even a drop. Hold it. Hold it, Tim, I know you can. Hold it…"

I held him gently as he hummed and moved from foot to foot. He was already away in a world of his own. I moved him to the toilet. As soon as he sat, it came. It wasn't very dirty.

I couldn't risk another one. I washed him down gently, and then led back to the living room, to the Chair.

Chapter 43. Fire

"Get in the Chair, Tim."

"Oh yes, sir…"

Once he was strapped down, I felt a bit safer. His eyes still stared at me madly, but the Chair seemed to steady him a bit.

I undressed. He should have me naked for this. The sun fell on his body, his golden hair was glowing with it, his eyes shone.

"Are you okay, Tim?"

His eyes focussed on me.

"Yes, sir. Sir, that was lovely."

"That's good. Now, Tim…"

I bent the leg stirrups and moved them back, till his knees were close to his face. I could see his hole, pink, glistening slightly from the water. I leant and gently licked it.

Tim gave a high-pitched scream like I'd never heard before. I licked, gently again and again, but I knew I couldn't carry on. Not this time. I switched to smoothing lube round him, and then I pressed against him. He screamed again, and as he did, he loosened and I slipped in.

"Aaah! Oh god sir, I shall come, I shall come if you're not careful, sir, I can't help it…

After all this, he was still warning me.

"Don't come. You do not have permission." I spoke very firmly.

"No, sir."

I swept round him, inside, and he screamed again. I added some more lube, lots of it, and another finger. That was as much as I dared.

I waited for a while, calming him, and then moved gently round again. I would have to stop now. Now or never. I lubed myself carefully.

"Tim, I'm going to fuck you now."

"Oh YES!! Yes, Master, fuck me, please fuck me!"

The crown of my dick was against his hole. It felt clean, smooth and firm.

"Do you feel me, Tim? In a moment I shall be in you. In a moment I shall be right in you. I'm going to fuck you, Tim. Let me in, Tim. Open yourself and let me in…"

I pressed hard. And he did open. And I slid, slowly but firmly, into his depths. He was tight and incredibly hot, but smooth as cream. I didn't stop till I reached the bottom. I felt his body move within him to accomodate me.

"DAVID!!"

Tim shrieked, and then he came. And came, and came, and came. I have never before or since seen anyone come as much. I moved out and back as the shocks of his orgasm gripped me.

"Who am I, Tim?" I yelled.

"Aaah! My Master!"

"And who are you?"

"Your slave!"

"For ever and ever?"

"For ever and ever!"

His body wrenched at me, and he convulsed, and I came, deep, deep within him, then thrusting again and again, deep, and out and deep, my seed right down inside his body.

He had finished. I lowered the stirrups, and lay full length upon him. His come was sticky between us.

"David, I love you so much."

"You're mine, now, Tim. In every way. You're mine for ever, and I love you."

We lay quietly for a few minutes, his body still stretched out tight in the Chair, and I kissed his face and neck.

I snapped the quick releases, and carried him to my bed. Then he was asleep in my arms.

Chapter 44. The Lark

I'd been so lonely when Vincent left. It wasn't that we'd fallen out or anything. But in the end, well, he developed. He'd gradually grown into the Master he was always meant to be, and that was that. He was about my age; training him and developing him was a great work, and I didn't regret a moment of it. We still met. But he had left a gap, and no-one had really filled it.

But Tim had. Filled it to overflowing. In five days he had taken over my life.

That was excellent, I thought. I smiled to myself as Tim breathed gently in my arms. Damn, I'm good, I told myself. I shall never forget how good that was.

I crept carefully out of the bed and went to make some tea. When I got back, Tim was awake, humming gently to himself and smiling.

"Okay?"

"Okay? Bloody marvellous, more like."

He hugged me, and for a while we said nothing.

"Can we do it again?"

"What a question. Do you honestly think I could not do it again? We've hardly started."

"Felt like a good start to me."

"Did it hurt?"

He paused.

"I don't know. Sounds stupid, doesn't it? I was so worked up I didn't notice. I suppose it did, but it was just part of the whole thing. It just – just overwhelmed me."

"That was the idea."

"God, I have never in my life felt so sexy. Are you really going to keep me like that all the time? Because – because I wouldn't be much use for anything else."

"That would be fun." I hugged him. "A permanent drooling fucktoy."

"Bastard."

"No, I think that would be going too far. But I'll do it sometimes. I will. You were so sweet, begging me. It was gorgeous."

"Mmmm," he purred. "Drooling fucktoy, that's me. Mmm."

"Are you sore, now?"

"Just a bit. But it's okay. It's – part of it. It kind of reminds me. I like it."

The look he gave me was of pure satiation. Repletion. That was one well-fucked boy.

"Let's get up. Come on. Let's put your other belt on."

"The belt again?"

"Of course. Every day, Tim. Every day."

I got him up and put the swimsuit belt on him. We discovered on this one the strap up his arse crack could not be removed. He looked at it curiously; there was a screw attachment in it.

"That's where the dildo goes, is it?"

"Yup. Shall we put one?"

"I – actually, I'd rather you didn't, not this time. I'd rather think about you up there."

I smiled and strapped him in. Paul was quite right; there was no sign of the belt, except for a slightly larger package. With his collar and wrist and ankle bands he was a sight.

"It's still sunny. Let's go for a walk."

We walked out across the meadow. There was a particular place I wanted to go, to share with him. We rounded the wood, and came to a little hill. On the top, in the low scrub, I knew there was a skylark's nest, and as I'd hoped, just as we arrived, he started his ascent.

We stood silent as he went higher and higher, singing all the while. The ecstatic flood of notes poured down onto earth around us, as the impossibly tiny body spiralled upwards.

I held Tim's naked shoulders and we stood, as the song went on and on and the world seemed to stop, just the ceaseless song of the lark and the light summer breeze and the white clouds slowly walking across the sky.

"That's just how I feel," he whispered as the bird sank silently down.

I walked back to the house with my boy, my slave, my lover.

Chapter 45. Tidying Up

"I'll go," said Tim, starting from his seat.

I heard him pick up the phone and then his voice.

"David Branver's residence." I choked on my coffee. "Yes ma'am, I'm very well, thank you… I should say everything is going well, but perhaps you should ask my Master… Please hold on, ma'am, I'll see if he's available."

He came back to me. "It's Chris. She'd like to speak to you."

I went to the phone.

"Hello, Chris."

"You've got him well trained."

"That was entirely his idea."

"Then I take it everything is going well?"

"Chris, it's amazing. I hadn't any idea… When I think how young he is…"

"You're gibbering. Oh well, I'll get it out of you in the end. I tried to ring you yesterday but you were out. Can I ask you a favour?"

"I owe you Chris, god knows. Of course you can."

"Invite me to supper. This evening. Also – I'd like to bring someone. A client-slave. Would that be possible?"

Damn it. Just when all I wanted a long, quiet evening with Tim, ending with a long, slow, voluptuous fuck. But I was right. I did owe her.

"A client-slave? Is that sensible? With Tim here? I don't like to be suspicious, Chris, but I'm looking at five to ten years here, and some ghastly children's home for him."

"Oh, don't worry, he's plenty compromised already, believe me. I'm not a total idiot, you know, David."

She wasn't, of course. Still, Wise Doubt came into my mind. I didn't like it.

"Okay. What's this all about?"

"Just play it by ear, will you? Will Tim be there?"

"Of course. Tim will always be here."

She laughed and rang off.

The next hour was frantic. The house hadn't been cleaned for nearly a week. Tim hoovered and went round with a cloth, I cooked.

"Have you looked after the Chair?"

"No. I thought you…"

"No. Basic rule. The slave looks after the equipment. It instills the right attitude. There's some leather polish under the sink, and wipe down the metal bits."

I heard him at work, and a bit later he was back. He stood before me, eyes to the ground, hands behind his back, giving me his Princess Di look.

"Have I got the right attitude now, mithter?" he lisped.

I slapped his bum. "God. What a disgusting display. Go and get a shower, then I'll change you into your other belt and you can get dressed."

A few minutes later, fresh and clean, I unlocked him and started to put the other belt on.

"Um… I'll take a dildo now, if you like."

"You certainly would if I liked. But in fact I don't like. I'd rather keep you nice and tight. For later, after they've gone. We'll see how much it hurts then, when you aren't half mad."

He grinned and kissed me.

He hadn't any formal clothes, I realised, so we compromised on his unworn pair of jeans, trainers and a white shirt, with his waistcoat. He brushed out his hair. He looked stunning.

"Now, Tim, you've met Chris before. But she is a Mistress, and an important one, and this a formal scene occasion, so show proper respect. The other person is a client-slave."

"What's that?"

"He is one of Chris's slaves, but only a temporary one. He pays her."

"Pays her?"

"Pays her to be his Mistress and do the sort of things we do. You know, every second Tuesday afternoon, a 2:30 appointment, sort of thing."

"She does it for money?"

"There's nothing wrong with that. She does a lot of good with it. Lots of people have good and happy lives because she gives them an outlet. And she's very good at it."

"Okay."

"A client-slave is not as important in our world as a full slave, like you. So you shouldn't call him 'sir'. But remember, he may be much older than you, and maybe very important in his ordinary life, so be polite."

"Yes, sir."

Chapter 46. Chris

She was wearing one of her black dresses, and heels, with her hair blown into a vast cloud, black lipstick and iridescent eyeshadow. Her presence was enormous; she seemed to fill the whole room.

"Tim. You look lovely. Come over here, let me look at you."

Tim bowed deeply. She towered over him, and stared into his eyes.

"That just-been-fucked-for-the-first-time look. So lovely. I love ex-virgins, don't you, David?"

"I love that one, anyhow," I called from the kitchen.

She stalked across the room.

"Have you whipped him yet? Does he scream prettily?"

"No, and yes."

"So, THAT kind of fuck. Did David fuck you well and hard, then, Tim?"

I looked round the corner to see Tim's response to this.

"My Master treated me well, as always, ma'am, and I am very happy." He laid stress on the word 'Master'; it was very delicate, but it was there.

"My god! You cheeky imp!" She shrieked with laughter. "David, he's priceless. You aren't go to turn him into one of those miserable cowed wretch slaves, are you?"

"Hardly."

The door bell rang.

"That must be Neville now."

"Answer the door, will you, Tim?" I called.

"No," said Chris. "Better do it yourself, David."

I dried my hands and went, slightly mystified.

"Don't let yourself be intimidated by Neville, Tim," I heard her say. "But be polite, if you possibly can, okay? He's an important man."

"Yes, ma'am."

I opened the door, and found a middle-aged, rather stocky man waiting for me. With a shock, I recognised his face. Most British people would. A man of power and wealth. Someone with a lot to lose. I was impressed by his courage in getting involved in our world.

"I am David. Please come in."

He bowed, with a slightly condescending style, I thought. But his bow to Chris was genuine enough.

"Mistress." And turning to Tim: "Oho! And who is this little darling?"

"This is Tim, my slave," I said.

"How do you do?" said Tim, holding out his hand.

Neville misgave for a moment, and then shook his hand.

"Looks as if this evening might be more fun that I thought, eh?"

He chuckled meaningly. I found myself disliking him intensely.

"Bit older than I generally like, mistress, but still, very nice."

"Tim is Master David's slave. David is a Master and your host. You will act with proper courtesy."

Chris seemed to grow before my eyes. Neville flushed, and bowed deeply to me.

"My apologies, sir."

"Accepted, of course." I couldn't say otherwise. He was Chris's slave, though what the hell she was doing bringing him here I had no idea.

I glanced at Tim. He seemed to be trying not to laugh. Possibly he hadn't understood some of the implications of what Neville had said.

"Tim will serve. Do you mind if he eats with us?"

"By all means," said Chris. "And Neville too?"

"Of course."

Chapter 47. Dinner-dance

Chris and I made small talk. I wondered what all this was about; I still had no inkling of the catastrophe which was brewing. The slaves ate in silence, but Neville was devouring every inch of Tim with his eyes. Tim acted as if he was unaware of this, but he couldn't fail to have noticed. I felt ashamed at putting him through this embarassment.

"Tim, please clear away the dishes and serve the main course."

I looked at him, trying to signal my support. He winked at me. He served us and sat down again.

"It's a problem to know what to serve, Chris, because of course so many people are vegetarians these days, and, well, there wasn't much time. So it's a mushroom flan. I hope that will be okay?"

"That's fine. That's fine, isn't it, Neville?"

"Thank you, sir, ma'am, that will be very good. I don't eat much meat, although I admit a bit of chicken is very nice. I'm sure you agree, sir."

He eyed Tim with frank lust.

"I think you understand me, sir? How fortunate you are, to have this fine young boy to serve you."

"Yes, I am very fortunate."

"Of course, I'm sure you make it very worth his while, don't you, sir? Or perhaps you have an arrangement with his parents? I find they can often be obliging, with suitable inducement."

I was about to jump at him, but Chris put a hand on mine. The man seemed honestly unaware that we would see anything wrong in what he was saying.

"Come on, boy," he went on, "How much does he pay you? How much for a piece of your arse, eh? I can be generous, you know."

Tim had turned white with shock. But still he turned to me for permission to speak. Chris was still holding me back. Horrified, I nodded.

"I don't think I'm for sale."

God, how I loved him!

"Not for sale! All these little tarts are the same, aren't they, sir? Hold out on you till the end. Prick-teasers. Sluts and tarts, all of them, little cumbag shitholes."

He was shouting at Tim now, leaning across the table and yelling.

"I know all about them, I know how to tame them. It'll take a few hefty punches, won't it? That's what it'll take, slapping you about a bit, eh? A few kicks in the stomach, and a few big dicks tearing your arse inside out, that's it, isn't it? As well as a bloody great bag of money, and then you'll come across, won't you? Then it's 'fuck me, fuck me' all of sudden, isn't it, you stuck-up snotty-faced prick- teasing little whore?"

He had risen almost to his feet, and yelled the last sentence straight into Tim's face. And with that, Tim broke. He stood, his chair fell, his eyes blazed.

"I am the full slave of Master David," he yelled. "I am that by my free choice. I have his ring and his collar, and I wear them from my choice alone, and I don't care if you are Lord ---, you will treat me with the respect due to my rank and to my Master!"

He was magnificent. I felt like cheering. And of course the man was indeed Lord ---.

"I've known bastards like you. Seven years old I was when they got me first. A few hefty punches! I know all about that! And the big dick tearing me, and the blood and the agony, again and again and again, and no-one to help me in the world! Bastards like you! Well, I've grown up now, and I have a Master who loves and protects me. I'm not a terrified seven-year-old any more, and if you lay one finger on me I'll fucking kill you!"

He was shaking with rage.

I gaped. This bastard had really hurt him, and I had sat there and let it happen. I stood up, brushing Chris aside. This had gone on far too long.

Tim gasped. Then he turned to Chris.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, I mean no disrespect to you."

"There is no disrespect. I'm really sorry about this. Let me introduce you to Master Martin, as he is called. He has been sent by certain interested parties who have heard about you, and felt it necessary to make sure that what was happening between you was, was not abusive. David, Tim, I'm so sorry."

Neville, or Martin, was smiling across at me. I felt like punching his face.

Tim came to me and fell on his knees, clasping my legs. I lifted him up, and then I heard him whisper in my ear, "Daffodil". He buried his face in my shoulder.

I gave them a look of thunder.

"Tim has just used his slowword. You will excuse us."

Chapter 48. Some Goodbyes

"Oh God, David, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. But when he came out with all that stuff, it just came welling up, you know, and I've tried so hard to forget it. And now I just see it all going round in my head again, I can see all their faces, and… and all sorts of horrible things, round and round and I can't stop them any more. Oh, help me, David!"

"I'm here, I'm here, we'll get through it together. Nothing can hurt you now, it's all over…"

He wept and screamed, and for a long time, perhaps half-an-hour or more, we sat together as I soothed him, hugging and kissing. And gradually he calmed.

"David. Fuck me. Fuck me now. Fuck me just like he did, and heal me. I need it, David…"

"I will, I will, love. Just let me get them to shove off."

He smiled at me bleakly. I went back to the living room.

They were standing by the table. Martin, or whoever he was, had stopped smiling at least, I was glad to see.

"You have done Tim a grave injury, Master."

"I see that that is so. We could hear."

"Didn't your 'interested parties' consider the possibility that he might have been abused?"

"No, they did not. But you must consider things from our point of view. We had to make sure that you, yourself, were not abusing him."

"Did you? Did you? And who gives you that right?"

"We have no right. Like you, like anyone, we have a duty to deal with the evil we encounter."

"I suggest, then, that your skills are not adequate for the task that you have set yourselves. And that, Master, is a recipe for abuse, as we all know, and as we have seen this evening. Because of your stupidity and ignorance, you, who call yourselves Masters, decided it was appropriate to mindfuck my boy, non-consensually."

He winced.

"I must tell you frankly, Master, I see no evidence from this evening's events that you and your friends have any clear idea at all of the boundaries of abuse, and no particular qualities to lecture the rest of us on the subject. I suggest you return to your principals, whoever the hell they are, and tell them that."

"I will tell them what you have said."

"I will add: I swore an oath before Exact Endeavour to protect my slave. Tonight I failed. I sat in that chair, and I watched you do it. I did not anticipate such an attack, nor from such a quarter, nor that one of my oldest and dearest friends would be a party to it." I heard Chris gasp, but I was too angry and wretched to pause. "I, myself, am also to blame and now it is my task to try to rectify the damage as best I can, if I'm not to consider myself a dishonoured Master. If I have been unjust, remember that I don't only accuse you."

"I don't consider you dishonoured. You couldn't know what I would say."

My temper snapped.

"I see no reason at all, Master, to value your opinions on a question of honour."

He reeled as if struck.

"And now I shall return to my boy. Goodnight."

I opened the door. He left without a word.

"David," said Chris, and I saw she was crying, "David, he'll get better. I know he will. David…"

"A day I wanted him to look back on with joy has been ruined. The 'just-been-fucked-for-the-first-time' look, remember? The 'ex-virgin', remember?"

"Oh, David!" she cried.

"Goodnight, Chris."

I shut the door. I think I had the presence of mind not to slam it. I think I did.

Chapter 49. Reprise

I drank a little wine from one of the glasses on the table and went back to the bedroom.

Tim was lying on the bed, naked apart from his belt. A little smile played round his lips. One knee was raised, and his head was on its side, so that he could see me. He had combed his hair. He looked small, vulnerable and altogether lovely.

"Come on," he said. "Fuck me. Then you'll feel better."

I unlocked his belt and dropped it on the floor.

"How?" I said. "Just exactly how did he do it?"

"Like this," he whispered. "On my back. With my hands tied to the headboard."

"Tied? You really want me to tie them?"

"Do it. Please. Please do it."

I went and got the chains. And I did it. I tied his hands as he wanted. After all that, he wanted it.

I stripped off my clothes. Something fell away with them, some terrible spell, and I felt free and fey and powerful.

"And this is where it's different," I said.

"Fuck me," he said, and smiled.

I ran my hand over his body. Then gently I licked and chewed his tits. He began to gasp.

"Oh yes. Oh yes. Nobody's ever done that but you… Oh yes…"

I licked his armpits, and all round his neck and down, down to his navel. There he squealed a little, and I licked and licked.

I licked his balls gently. By now he was writhing, kicking. I took him in my mouth and sucked him briefly, and he went mad. Then I pulled his legs up, quite firmly and roughly, and my tongue moved down to his hole.

I licked it round carefully, and then pressed, and in a moment he let me in with a breathy scream.

"Oh god, I can't believe you're doing that, oh god that's so nice, oh David…"

I did it again and again, in and out. He tasted as clean as fresh water. Then I lubed my finger, and entered him again. I found his prostate, clean, small and round, and caressed it.

"Jesus, David, what's that! God! Oh, don't stop! Oh…"

I caressed it mercilessly, stopping only only when I thought he was on the brink. I added another finger, opening him up, and another. By now he was growling deep in his throat, fiercer and fiercer.

"Fuck me, damn it David, just fuck me! Just fuck right into me!"

I pressed his legs right back. And then, just the head of my dick, just in him.

"Say it, Tim. Now say it."

"Fuck my baby arse! Fuck me! I want to really feel it!"

His voice was suddenly tiny, shrill, and with a kind of horror, I realised what I was hearing. I felt such an anger then as I have never felt before. Weeping, I leant to his mouth, and slowly, slowly I slid into him, deep down into him. His body gripped me deliciously, and I kissed him.

I lay deep within him, full on his body, and whispered in his ear: "Who am I, Tim? Who am I?"

"David," he whispered back. "You're David. You're David, and I love you."

Slowly, ever so slowly, I moved out and back.

"Does it hurt?" I whispered.

"No, not at all. Not at all. It doesn't hurt at all." His voice was amazed, wondering, and again I felt a fierce bloody anger rise. Then in his full voice: "It's lovely, David. It's really lovely. Fuck me now, David. Really fuck me. Oh yes!" I began to fuck him hard, harder and harder, beating on his prostate, and right down into him, again and again and again. Then his rhythmic groans turned into screams, louder and louder, and then wonderfully and miraculously, he came, and I went right down in the depths of his body and came there again. And I looked into his face as he came, twisted with ecstasy, and knew how brilliant and right everything was.

I lay on him and kissed him, and he smiled at me.

Suddenly I couldn't bear the chains just then. When I freed him, he jumped at me, flattened me, sat across my chest and leant to kiss me.

"And now what's he worth?" I said.

He laughed out loud, screamed and laughed.

"Absolutely nothing! Absolutely damn and fuck all!"

Chapter 50. Not a Baby

"Is that what you had to say? Is that what he made you say?"

"What, that 'fuck my baby arse' thing? Yes, every time. I had to say it every time. He would beat me with his belt till I said it. I had to say it like I really meant it, sometimes over and over again. And then he'd stop beating me and do it. But it wasn't much better than being beaten. It never hurt less, it never got better."

I hugged him till I thought his ribs would crack.

"Today is the first time it ever did anything but hurt. I didn't know it could. I was going to put up with it, because I love you so much, but I didn't know it could be good. I hadn't any idea. I couldn't imagine you could actually come from being fucked, just only from being fucked, and now I've done it twice."

I laughed gently.

"If you like, we'll do it again."

"Stupid question. Of course I like."

So I entered him from behind, lying on our sides, and slowly took him again. We were a long, long time at it. His body was like a tight silken bandage around me, and his hair smelled of cornfields. And again he came. He was as reliable as clockwork. I caught his come in my hands, and brought it to his mouth, and he licked, and so did I, as my dick softened within him.

And then we slept. My last thought was that I should never, never call him 'baby'.

I woke with him gently calling my name.

He stood by the bed, holding a cup.

"A cup of coffee, Master."

I smiled and sat up.

"Thank you, Tim."

He stood and looked at me.

"You need to put my belt on. I want to go and have a shower."

I looked at him, standing there naked, the belt in his hand, his dick half hard. I longed to see him in it again. But this wasn't the day.

"Nope. No belt today. Go and have your shower. But no wanking! I shall ask you."

"You said every day." He smiled.

"Changed my mind. Master's prerogative. Tomorrow."

By the time I was back from my run, he was already making breakfast, dressed in jeans and a tee-shirt. It was yet another sunny day. The fields and meadow were parched, cracking and aching for rain.

I went and showered, and we sat to eat. Just then the phone rang. I went and unplugged it.

Tim looked at me.

"You're not a dishonoured Master," he said.

I sat down.

"How much did you hear?"

"All of it. You think I'd miss it? I was so proud of you."

"Um. I was very, very angry."

"You were wrong about one thing, though. Yesterday was not ruined. You think that Lord What's His Name with the dandruffy hair could ruin that? No way."

I laughed aloud.

"Are you sure?"

"What a question. You teach me how to fuck, and you think anyone could ruin that? That bastard who used to rape me, that's what it was, rape, you dispose of that, and could that be ruined? Not. A. Chance."

"Thanks. That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me, I think."

"It's certainly the nicest thing anyone's ever DONE to me, I can tell you that. Dishonoured Master? Phooey. Honoured slave, more like. Very honoured slave. Slave, yer honour. Slave. Slave for ever."

"You're gibbering, boy."

"What are we going to do today?"

"Let's get away from here. How about Manton House? Wildlife Park?"

"Yes! I'd like that. I've never been to a wildlife park."

"Okay. We'll go. We'll just be ordinary for the day."

"Ha! Except for the collar. And the wrist and ankle bands."

"I could take them off."

"You dare! I'll fight for them. Take them off? What an idea."

So off we went.

Chapter 51. Day Out

And we went on a couple of the rides, zooming down a water slope in a wooden boat, getting wet and screaming. Then we ate hamburgers, and lay in the grass in the sun, and walked through the rainforest hothouse.

It was good. And what Paul said was right: no-one took a second look at Tim's collar, or his bands, as far as I could see. Lots of people looked at him, of course, but they always did. Hell, so would I. So did I, often. And called myself lucky, again and again.

We were just a man with his son, maybe. It was nice. I wouldn't want to be ordinary every day, but it's nice occasionally.

We set off home, the sun already sloping down to the horizon and the shadows lengthening.

"You going to fuck me tonight?"

"Ah, well now. I haven't really decided," I taunted him. Although I had, of course. I couldn't get enough of him.

Then we rolled up the drive, and at the top two cars were waiting.

I sighed. It was inevitable, I suppose.

"Tim," I said. "Here they are. Keep behind me. Call everyone sir or ma'am. Don't say anything unless you have to. Be cool but polite. And keep your wits about you."

"Check."

We got out of the car, and walked towards the house.

"David," came a call. The last voice I expected; it was Paul's.

"Can't we come in?" he asked.

"Paul, as you know, I could never deny you anything you ask."

He got out of the car. Andrew was with him, of course. And from the other car came another man. And if Master Martin had been a shock, this was a double shock. He was in late middle age, tall, grey-haired, expensively tailored. I wasn't surprised that he was acccompanied by a burly guy with a prominent bulge under his armpit.

"This is Master Peter. And his, ah, assistant."

Finally an old man, small, walking with a stick. Although I didn't know him, the aura of authority was immediate and powerful.

"And Master Anthony."

"You had best all come in," I said with a sigh.

I unlocked the door and we went in, Andrew helping the old man. Tim followed us.

"Sit down, gentleman. Tim, please make some tea." And to Anthony: "Are all right, sir? Is there anything we can get you?"

He looked a little surprised.

"No, thank you, I am well."

"Why are you here, Paul, with these people?" I looked at him flatly.

"I was asked to intervene, and help to sort things out. It was not an ignoble request."

I bowed slightly. He had been pressured, then. Who did they think they were?

"Well, gentleman?" Anthony cleared his throat. "Let us wait until Timothy has returned."

We sat in silence. Peter rose impatiently, and moved to look out of the window, his hands tapped each other behind his back. I could hear the tea-cups rattling in the kitchen.

"Who did that version of The Good Regard?" asked Anthony suddenly.

"Mistress Chris."

Either he didn't recognise the name, or he chose to ignore it.

"It's very fine. A beautiful visualisation."

The last thing I wanted was a discussion about bloody mandalas. In any case my mind was filled with Just Revenge, an uncomfortable guest. I said nothing. The silence resumed.

Finally Tim came back, putting the tea-tray on the table. Then, solemnly, he asked them one by one how they wanted their tea, poured and served them. It was a bravura performance. By the end I was on the point of bursting with laughter. I could see Anthony smiling a small smile. Peter was furious. His goon gruffly asked for no tea, thank you – the only time he spoke.

Chapter 52. New Arrangements

"Master, your words to Master Martin were utterly disgraceful!" burst out Peter, spitting with rage. "How dare you impugn his honour! How dare you!"

"You have heard my words?"

"Indeed I have! You, Master, should be ashamed!"

"So. I was recorded without my knowledge in my own house. On the whole, I'm not really surprised."

"Of course you were! You were suspected of pederastic abuse, Master! All measures were justified!"

"Even a bit of abuse on your own account? You heard the tape. What do you think? Would you permit a slave of your own to be treated in that fashion? Let alone a fourteen-year-old who had himself already been abused. If you heard the tape, then judge yourself, Master!"

"We were unaware that he had been abused."

I'd almost had enough of them.

"You should have been aware, Master! How would you judge a Master who entered such a scene without any knowledge? You laid a ferocious mindfuck on my boy without any knowledge at all?"

"Damn it, Master, of course it did not go well, but we had no choice! We had every reason! And your slave must take his chances!"

"So much for the crusade against abuse, then."

"Peter," said Anthony quietly. "You go too far. In fact, this whole thing has gone too far. Far too far. Let us go back to the substantive issue. The fact is, as anyone could tell who listened to the tape – as I have, Peter, before you interrupt – that Timothy is not being abused. As anyone could tell who met him this afternoon. It is quite clear to me that he is in excellent hands. Do you agree, Peter?"

There was a long pause.

"I cannot disagree. It would be unjust. He is not being abused."

"Very well. That is on the record. And, Master, I must concede that what we did to your slave was clumsy, badly-planned and unconscionable. We have to apologise, sincerely, both to you and to him, and I do so. Now, sir, will you not accept our apology, and lay this matter to rest? I appeal to you, as one Master to another."

"Wait," said Paul, suddenly. I had almost forgotten he was there. He was sitting, white-faced, with Andrew standing behind him, his hand on his shoulder. "Wait. This is a consensuality-level issue. Tim must be heard on his own account. He is the main injured party."

I didn't like this at all, but Paul was right.

"Yes, indeed," said Anthony. "I think you are right, Paul. Timothy, you seem perky enough today, eh? No harm done, then, can't we say? Come on, lad, can't we shake hands and make up? Take your time, now."

There was a long pause. I avoided looking at Tim. It would be unfair. But Anthony's condescension made me boil again. Then Tim spoke.

"With the greatest respect. If I am 'perky', today, sir," and his voice dripped with scorn, "Then it's thanks to the skill and gentleness of that great man, my Master, and nothing at all to do with you and your friends. It's my Master who took me in, and he had the courage to make me his slave, and thanks to him and his kindness and his love, what happened to me when I was little matters less and less every day. When I came here I was still a mess, and it's my Master who is helping me out of that, and you, whoever you are, in your sitting-rooms in London or wherever, you get together and you have the cheek to call him an abuser? Don't you know what the word means? So why should I 'shake hands and make up,' as if you'd – you'd tripped me up in the playground or something? As if this were all a joke?"

"He deserves your respect, and I deserve your help, because I'm a slave, and a boy. But what happens? I don't know how you got to Mistress Chris, my Master's friend, but I expect it was pretty nasty. Then Master Martin comes here, as a guest, wangles his way into this house with a tape recorder under his coat, and insults my Master and me, his slave, in his own house. He repeats the words of my abuser in my face, smirks across the table at how clever he's been, and leaves my Master to bring me back from hell! Then you've been down on Master Paul, who helped us, and made my collar and my ring, and you're still at it! I have to stand here silent, as a slave, and hear my Master, who's saved me, called an abuser before my face! You bring an armed man into his house without even asking him…"

"Timothy," broke in Anthony, "You must understand Master Peter's position."

"He only had to ask. That's all he had to do. The trouble is, sir, with all respect, you're powerful people. And because you're powerful, you've got arrogant. And because you're arrogant, you make mistakes, in little things and big things. And one day, if you're not careful, you'll make a really big mistake, and then, because you're so powerful, we'll all be in the shit."

Paul laughed quietly. I could see he was enjoying this. So was I. I was hugging myself. But Tim hadn't finished.

"But actually, despite all that, I still think we should accept your apology. Because of two things. I think you really are trying to stop abuse, even if you make mistakes. And that is a good thing. It can't be easy, and you deserve our support, in any way we can give it."

"Thank you, Timothy," said Anthony. "That is generous."

"And the other thing is this. You are powerful people, and one day we may need your protection. I would rather have you for us than against us. And I know I can trust you to do this, sir, because you must see that after this, if we go down, you go down. And on that basis, sir, this slave humbly accepts your apology."

He stopped, and bowed. Anthony stared at him, open mouthed. Peter said quietly, "Fuck."

"And now, Masters," I said, "Perhaps you see the nature of the task I face."

Anthony was laughing, a quiet, creaking sound.

"What a priceless set of fools we look, eh? Taught our business, and by a fourteen-year-old boy! Still and all, I envy you your task, Master, before the powers I do. Timothy, you are right. Thank you for accepting our apology. And certainly your Master and you will have our protection, if you need it, and as far as we can. That isn't lightly said, but I should add this. Yes, lad, we are indeed powerful people – and we do not take it well if people deceive us or let us down. Please remember that."

"With respect, sir, I understand that very clearly, and I'm not a fool."

"Nor you are. Well, you have made at least one friend today. I underestimated you. I don't do that often, and it's fascinating when it happens. And now I must return to my sitting-room in London, or wherever, because I'm an old man, and I get tired, and my slave is waiting and he'll start to fret, poor man." He pulled himself to his feet. "But one day you," and he pointed straight at Tim, "will understand, I think, the problems I face."

"Sir," said Tim, "I am a true and complete submissive. My place is with my Master, for ever."

Anthony looked him for a long while in the face; they were almost the same height.

"So you are," he said after a while. "So you are indeed. How beautiful. And intriguing. I think, Master," he said to me, "that we may have work for both of you in due course."

That was something of a facer. But there was something I had to say as well. I bowed to Peter.

"Master, I withdraw my unwarranted slurs to Master Martin's honour. Master Martin and I disagreed, but I had no call to say what I did."

"Thank you, Master. I will tell him."

He moved to help Anthony to the car.

Chapter 53. Considerations

I led him back into the house, and Paul stood to greet us.

"Paul, old friend," I said, "What did they say to you?"

"Oh, that. Peter, who I know slightly, rang me up. He said that they had been 'inspecting' you, as he put it, and that you had grossly mistreated one of their people. He asked me to escort them down here, and act as go-between. I would have done it anyhow; there was no shame in such a mission, and I don't apologise for it, David; it was necessary.

"He also chose to mention the slaves I train, and how unpleasant it would be if the police were to intervene. I said nothing, although on the way down I did mention who some of their Masters were, and what it seemed to me would be likely to happen to them, if the police got interested. I don't think it amused them much."

I embraced him.

"You've done nothing to hurt us," I said. "Not that I imagined you would have. It's just as Tim said: they've become arrogant, and careless."

"Ah yes. Tim. You've become wise, young man, haven't you? And daring. You'll be a power in the land, I think. In fact you already are, aren't you?"

Tim stared seriously into his face.

"I only said what I had to, sir, so they'd leave us alone. All I want is for us to be left alone, so that I can be a slave to my Master. That's all I want – to be his good slave. Sir, can't you see what I mean? I don't want all this other stuff. It was never my idea, sir."

Paul looked at him carefully. A tear slid down my boy's face.

"I do see," said Paul. "And you are wise, as I said, and right."

I didn't see, and said so.

"He doesn't always push you, does he, Tim? He's so careful. No, don't answer, slave, it would not be proper. David. Let me intervene this once."

I bowed.

"Get Damian's belt, boy. Bring it here."

Tim did. He was trying not to smile.

"Strip, slave. Put it on him, Andrew. Andrew knows well enough how it works, you may be sure. Better. Now, David, where is the gag I made? Thank you. Andrew, please. Thank you. Lie on the floor, slave, on your front. David, did you know that the wrist and ankle catches are the same? It makes this so easy."

And in two moments Tim's wrists were clipped to his ankles, and he was face down on the floor. His arms and legs writhed; it must have been hideously uncomfortable, his face and gagged mouth pressed to the floor.

"Yes. You talk and talk, don't you boy, quite the gift of the gab, eh? Great Masters fall in with your schemes, you're brave and cunning, but this is where you belong, isn't it? A hogtied slave at your Master's feet. Have you whipped him yet, David?"

"No."

"Shame. This would be the moment to lay it on hard, but I think we'll leave that to you another time. So, why don't you show me round your grounds? We'll leave this punk to consider the merits of humility. Andrew, please keep an eye on him."

I looked at Tim, hogtied on the floor, naked and helpless in his belt, and began to understand what was happening. My love and respect for him at that moment had no bounds.

I embraced Paul, and we went out onto the meadow.

"I must talk to you about that boy," said Paul. "You're a great Master now, and far more skilled than me. But you'll have to admit, I think, that I have more experience in the pure business of training novices."

"Tim isn't an ordinary novice."

"No, he isn't. It's something you see sometimes in those who have been abused; they are older and wiser than their years. They learn things. They learn how to manipulate, and play people off against each other, and how to understand people's interests better than they do themselves. They become powerful, and dangerous. In some it becomes just a weasel-like and destructive deviousness, very hard to correct. In others, and thank all good things Tim is one of these, it can be a shining and compassionate power.

"Between us, let's be frank. The game he played was superlative. He saw, when you, my dear, could only see your rage, that these were people who were so powerful that they had to be mollified, but could also be turned into valuable allies. So he offered them a prize: the assistance of you and himself, and showed them just by what he said that it would be valuable. In return he asked for something they can well afford: their protection. And he backed it up with a threat: absolute ruin if they refused. He was very blunt. So Anthony agreed. He had no choice."

"I – I had no idea."

"Of course you didn't, dear boy, because you are far more innocent than he is. You are no fool, but he is more intelligent than you, and more cunning, and far, far more ruthless. He is a superb manipulator. How do think he became your slave? I'm sure you fought him every inch, but he won."

"But – he loves me!"

"Of course he does, you poor fool. He wouldn't have bothered if he didn't. You have other qualities which he lacks: straightforward strength, courage, control, firm values. And goodness, pure goodness, kindness and gentleness. You always had those things, my dear, and to Tim, with his background, they're priceless. That's why he chose you. Because he genuinely is a pure submissive, and he really needs a Master.

"And that, of course is the problem."

"What problem?" I stared at him. I felt as if the world was tumbling.

"You're in awe of him, aren't you? You felt vaguely that something was going on between him and Anthony, but you couldn't make out what. And although you like to sniff a little at the conventions, actually you're a very traditional Master. You're quite sentimental, really. That's what's bothering Tim, that you'll stand there gaping, and feel the ground shifting, and let the chains slacken. Because he wants those chains, David, he needs them, he needs them tight and remorseless, every bit as much as before, more, in fact. It's your strength and your love and goodness which keep him functioning. You have to cope with the fact that even though he's cleverer than you, you are still the Master. His intelligence is something which you must use and guide, for your benefit, and his. If you can do it, you will be a truly formidable team. That's what Anthony saw, and found so intriguing. Because, you know, he offered Tim another way, a Master's way, a life of power, and Tim told him flatly 'no'."

"Oh lord, oh god, I didn't realise. You're right, he did."

"So. You must clear your mind, and be his Master. And for pity's sake, stop thinking of him as a china doll. He's a tough little number, who's been through a lot, and survived. He will let his guard down with you, because he trusts you, and he knows what you're like, and he expects you to get in there, take up the reins, sort out his problems, and run his life. He is your slave. Treat him as such."

I was silent for a while, digesting this. We rounded the pond, where the ducks were making their arrangements for the night, and columns of midges danced.

"It's not true to say that he isn't good," I said. "He's really passionate about some things, and if anyone weak or helpless is being treated badly, he goes mad. He can't bear cruelty."

"That's what redeems him. That's why he isn't just a cunning little punk. But he's ruthless. Like with that poor wretch, Damon."

"You heard about that?"

"I whipped it out of him," he said, casually. "Little did he know what a force of nature he'd bumped into. He was expecting a whining kid. What he got was a ruptured testicle."

"Dear god, Paul, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It served him right. And Tim wouldn't have said sorry. Nor would Anthony. Nor would Andrew, and nor would I. But you would, which is why you are the ideal Master for Tim. He knows it, I know it, and I hope to god in the end you'll understand it, and do your job."

I sighed.

"I was beginning to see some of this. But thank you. You make it all very plain."

As sometimes happens to me, I felt strength surge into me, as if from some outside force. Suddenly, I was not dismayed at all. I laughed.

"I think we will make out."

Paul looked at me curiously.

"I think you will. By the way, he won't often try to manipulate you. Not now he's got what he wanted. He's too clever to do that."

Chapter 54. Different Feelings

"Yes, sir, he's fine, although in some discomfort."

I knelt beside him.

"Okay, Tim?"

His face was damp with tears, but he moved his head to my hand.

"Andrew, would you be kind enough to go to the cupboard in my bedroom? In the box there you will find a pair of arm-bands with eye-hooks on them. Could you bring them, please?"

Andrew looked to his Master for a moment, and then went. I stroked Tim's hair gently, kissed his ear.

I buckled the armbands above his elbows, and bending his legs still further, hooked them to his wrists. Tim moaned. His body was slightly bent now, his face off the ground. It must have been excruciating.

"Okay?" I asked, and when he nodded, weeping, I kissed him again.

"Now, Paul, you must have missed lunch, can I invite you and Andrew to afternoon tea? It will be quite simple and," I smiled at Andrew, "entirely organic."

He accepted, and I went into the kitchen to make tea, with brown bread and butter and a few small cakes.

I could hear Paul talking to Tim, but not what he said. It was irregular, but I didn't feel like interfering.

I brought the food through, but before we sat to eat, I got a shoulder harness from my box, and put it on Tim. He knew what was coming. I could see the fear in his eyes. I took his gag out.

"Are you okay with this, Tim?" I whispered.

"Yes. I am always okay with you," he whispered back.

Then I released his legs one by one and hauled them up.

He screamed. It was delightful; a scream of pure pain, the first I had heard from him. I clamped his wrists together, so that he could get no support from his arms, and left him on his belly, bowed tight, in agony.

Our meal was accompanied by his screams and pleas.

When it was over, we said our goodbyes, and I walked them to their car.

"Thank you, David, that was most delightful. But – you aren't planning to leave him in that position for too long, are you?"

"No, Paul, of course not. But don't be too alarmed; I saw him almost in that position the other day, when we were sunbathing, and he was fooling around. A fourteen-year-old is somewhat more flexible than us older folk."

I saw Andrew smile in relief. They drove off.

I picked my boy up as he was, and carried him to my bed. Then I untied him, and as he screamed from the relief, spread-eagled and chained him on his front.

"Oh god, David, that was horrible. I feel as if I'd been pulled to bits. And I couldn't breathe properly. Wow. You can be pretty cruel, can't you?"

"Too much for you?"

"Never." He smiled.

I kissed him.

"Rest for a while. I'll be back."

I went and started a proper supper for the two of us.

When I came back, he was still awake, and looking at me sideways with sultry eyes.

"Now what?"

"Now, I fancy a bit of boy arse," I said.

"Mmm. In my belt?"

"I think so. This isn't for you, it's for me."

He shivered.

"I just love that," he purred. "Say it again."

"I'm going to drill your arse, fuck you deep, because I'm horny as hell, and you're not even going to get hard." I was stripping off my clothes.

He moaned long, a deep purr. I loved him. Despite what I said, I spent a while licking him out, and he screamed, and lubed him well, and he screamed again.

Then I was into him, one fierce thrust, and he was shouting, "Do it! Fuck my arse! Do it!" And I ploughed him, on and on, thrusting again and again, right down, down in his depths, shifting him, pushing him, and him groaning, hauling the chains, every time. I went on and on, holding back, holding back, because despite what I said, I wanted him to force him to come like this. It took nearly half an hour, the chinking of the chains and the ruthless blows of my dick, and then, quite suddenly, he gave this unearthly banshee shriek, and I could feel his guts ripple around me, and he came, and I came too, plunging through him, and back and down.

I lay beside him on the bed. I looked at his beautiful face and its green, long-lashed eyes, more childlike than ever, and licked his nose. He giggled. The chains clinked.

"Reliable as clockwork," I said. "I never knew anyone who came from being fucked as much as you."

"Truly weird," he said. "Different. You wouldn't think that coming could feel completely different, would you?"

"Nice," I said. "I like to give you different feelings."

Chapter 55. Reconsiderations

"It really was weird, though," he said. "To start with my dick was trying to get hard, and it really hurt. Then it sort of gave up, and this different feeling started right inside me, and it got stronger and stronger, and when I came, it was this kind of high, sharp feeling, and I didn't spurt in the usual way, it was in time with you. I suppose that's how it must be for Max."

"So you see, I could just keep you in the belt all the time, and not let you come in the usual way at all. You'd live, wouldn't you?"

He looked at me strangely.

"I could do it, you know. It – it would make me into a very different kind of person, but I could."

"We'll try it for a while one day. I know – we'll do it for Lent. Give up ordinary coming for Lent. Next year. Forty days! How about that?"

"Wow. Oh wow."

"I love twisting you, changing your feelings, really wrenching them. It's delicious to think that I can do just whatever I want to you. Just whatever I want."

"If you go on like that, I shall come. Honestly. That is the hottest thing. Being completely at your mercy."

We stared at each other, completely understanding.

"That was he first time I gave you pain," I said. "Well, I suppose it was Paul, really."

"No, he didn't really hurt me. It was you. I was surprised, actually. I wasn't sure – I was beginning to think you wouldn't do that."

"I didn't know how you'd take it. Pain – it's okay to think about it, but the reality can be a bit different, can't it?"

"Yes. No – I'm not sure. I guess so. It hurt more than I expected. But it wasn't too much. It was okay, it was the thought that you were doing it. It hurt, but it really turned me on at the same time."

"Darling boy. That's exactly what's meant to happen. The intensity adds to the turning on. But I'm glad, because now we're going to do a lot of pain. A lot."

He stared at me.

"Wow." A favourite word.

"I'm going to take you on a trip through hell." Another of those corny lines he likes.

"Wow. You're frightening me."

"It's what we do. Paul – you've seen him at work. You won't believe how much he made me suffer. There've been days when I screamed so much I was hoarse. That'll happen to you. Probably tomorrow."

For a moment he was quiet. I had really frightened him.

"You'll whip me?"

This was his fear. It came up again and again. I let him writhe for a few moments.

"Not to start with. Other things first. Tim, why are you so frightened of the whip? Did HE…"

"You know he did."

"Tell me about it."

"I'd rather not. It – spoils the evening. Please."

"Who was he?"

"Let's not talk about him. Please."

"Okay, Tim. But I shall want to know."

He's been given due warning now. I saw he recognised it. He looked at me, and I saw his eyes were wet. 'A terrible time, but glorious.' that's what Paul had called what I was going to do. I met his look, letting kindness and love into my eyes. He smiled.

"David, who were they, those people?"

"Not really sure. I've heard of them, slightly. They – they're people like us. Men and women, serious Masters and Mistresses. They sort things out, things in our world which aren't right. Abuse of kids is one of them. People who don't work with consent. People who go to far. People who kill."

"David, that's dreadful. I'd no idea there were…"

"Things like that happen. Anyhow, that's what they do, try to stop that."

"So, they're quite powerful and dangerous, then?"

I put down my knife and fork.

"Tim. When we went out there and kissed, I wanted them to see that. I wanted them to see us with the sun round us, and think, that is the finest slave in the world. And when you lay at my feet, I thought, there has never been a Master more lucky than me. I was so proud when Paul explained to me what you did, how clever and brave and subtle you'd been. To think that I'm the Master of such a slave is just so wonderful. You need never, ever pretend to me that you're stupider than you are, or less subtle than you are, or that you understand less than you do. You are the best, and I never want you to be less than that. And when you pretend to be, you are insulting my slave, and insulting me."

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I thought…"

"I know what you thought, or what you worried about. But you needn't. Because the fact that you're brilliant and cunning and subtle just makes me prouder and prouder of you. That's all."

"Oh David…" He was weeping now. "No-one's ever thought of me like that. Except Mira, a bit, I suppose. Everyone else has always hated me for being bright. Even the teachers. One said to me, 'The trouble with you, Hamley, is you're too clever for your own good. You're a cunning, sneaky little poof.'"

"Fuck him. Small-minded little bigot. None of that matters, because I'm your Master now. And your lover. I'll always look after you, and protect you. I made an oath, remember?"

"Thank you," he whispered.

Chapter 56. How It Works

He smiled at me.

"They were both people who were used to using power. They were both used to telling people to do things, and having them do them, you could feel it. Look at Peter. He has thousands and thousands of people working for him, doesn't he, and you can just see that none of them ever say 'no' to him, he just can't bear that. Also he has no sense of humour, no feeling of what's important and what isn't. Anthony's different. He's powerful because people have come to trust him, and follow him, and he's subtle and cunning. Like me. I understand him, and he understands me. And we both know we understand each other. I understand Peter, but he hasn't a clue about me, he thinks he's never met anyone like me before, he's frightened of me, although he doesn't know it, and that makes him annoyed.

"So they're both very powerful people in their ways. And are they dangerous? Well, I should think they could both be, if it was needed. I'm sure Peter has sacked people and ruined their lives and had them sent to jail and all that. Anyone who went against him would get it in the neck, really hard. As for Anthony, I'm sure, I don't know why but I'm just sure, that he has had people killed before now. He is so ruthless it's quite scarey. I have never met anyone as ruthless as him."

"But – won't they just go away and decide it might be safer just to get rid of us in some way?"

"No, they won't. Anthony won't. Because really we aren't that important. If he attacks us, we could maybe do him some real damage, but if he doesn't, there'll be no problem, because I told him so and he believes me. So why bother? He never does anything that isn't necessary. He isn't offended by what we do and say. Being offended is a silly feeling, he's only interested in the plusses and minuses. Also we might be useful in the future, and he really does see what he's doing as a crusade, I think it's the only thing he really cares about. Also he's amused by me, he thinks it's cute how clever I am, and I'm so pretty, it tickles his fancy to have such a creature in his posse, kind of thing. Also he fancies you."

"What?!"

"Oh yes. Didn't you notice? But Peter is straight, of course. I suppose he's into cute fluffy slave girls. Anyhow, he doesn't much like gay people, which is one of the reasons he was so down on us. He just thinks it's disgusting, me being with you, it really makes him feel sick. But because he prides himself on being fair, he had to admit it was okay, anyhow. And when you apologised about Martin, he felt he'd won an important point, although it doesn't matter at all, really. No, he's no danger. Anyhow, Anthony got him under his thumb long ago, and he'll do what he's told, because he knows from experience that Anthony's usually right, and he hasn't a clue what Anthony's really like. So I think we're quite safe. They'll snoop around for a while, just to check we don't do anything silly, and that will be that."

"Anything silly?"

"Try to stir up trouble of some sort. But my advice is we shouldn't. If we did, they'd risk any problems and just crush us. And why should we? After all, what they're trying to do is a good idea. I think we should be in favour of Anthony's crusade. I just wish they weren't so clodhopping and stupid about it. Peter's fault, I expect."

I stared at him in utter amazement.

"And you just worked all this out? You worked all this out at the time?"

"Sure." He smiled, a little smugly, I thought. "Your slave is pretty clever, Master. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. And you're right. We will keep our noses clean and stay out of trouble. And I think you're also right about what they're doing. I've heard stories. They've stopped a lot of truly frightful people and saved a lot of others. The least we can do is not cause problems."

"Okay."

I paused.

"Let me ask you another question. You're so clever it just astonishes me. You saw right through those two powerful and dangerous people and organised things so that we got what we wanted. So what am I for? Is there anything left for me to do?"

I looked at him wrily.

"You mean you don't know?"

"Let's just say I'm not sure."

"That's what Master Paul said to me. 'Your Master doesn't see what he has done. You'd better tell him, and quick.'"

"Well?"

"But don't you see? I couldn't do anything without you. I'd be nothing. You're far stronger than me, and better, and kinder, you know what's right and what's wrong. Without you, I'd just fall to pieces. Or I might turn into a nasty vicious evil punk like Damon. You saved me. Master, I need you, I'll always need you. I'm not like Andrew or you, I'll always need someone to control me, someone to submit to. And someone to protect me, because without you I'd be in trouble all the time. And god sent me you, really I think it was god, because otherwise I don't know what would have happened to me."

I thought of one or two things, and I wondered if he mightn't be right. It was a strange kind of destiny, not something I'd expected. But it suited me, like a glove suits a hand. And anyhow, I had no choice. I loved him. And I had sworn.

Chapter 57. Getting Ready (Day 7)

He smiled and kissed me. I put him in my bed, but left the belt on, and clamped his wrists in front of him, and his ankles. Then I curled round him, my dick between his legs.

"This is so nice," he said. "I feel so safe. Why didn't I meet you before?"

"You met my brother."

"Tony. He was the first person who was ever nice to me."

And that sentence lifted one terrible dread, at least, from me. I kissed his ear.

"You didn't think..? Oh no, David, he could never have done that. He was really nice. I couldn't believe it, really, I think I was pretty nasty to him. Oh, why did all that stuff have to happen to me?"

"I can't tell you that, Tim. No-one ever knows that sort of thing. But – maybe – without it you would never have learnt so many things."

"I hadn't thought of that."

"The kindly powers can be a very hard Masters."

He said nothing else, and we drifted off to sleep.

When I woke up, he was still asleep, curled on his side, with a tiny smile on his face. I thought of what I had planned for him, scarcely more than a child, and for a moment I was terrified. But this wasn't the moment for that. I must be strong and very determined. I went for a run; the weather had finally broken, and a cold and gusty wind was blowing patches of rain across the meadow. As I rounded the wood, I felt the strength move into me again. I prayed.

I had my shower and went to wake him. He looked at me a moment, confused, and then smiled.

"So, this is the big day, is it?"

Oh yes, I thought, this is when we'll find out what you're made of, beautiful child. I uncatched his wrists and ankles.

"Yup. Up you get. Have a shower. No clothes. Off you go."

I went through to the kitchen and made a large breakfast. Then he was through, and sat to eat, just in his belt.

"Make a good breakfast, Tim. You'll need it."

"What are you going to do?"

"Cheeky. Wait and see."

"I'm frightened. Honestly, David, I'm really frightened. You're really scaring me."

"Good. Just eat up, okay?"

He obeyed. It was strange and subdued meal in a grey and rainy light.

I took him into the bathroom and removed his belt, clamping his wrists behind him. Then I laid him across my knees and gave him an enema.

"This isn't too bad," he said, as the water moved into him.

He snuggled against me and I hugged him, stroking his hair. He was already hard, his dick against my knee. The water flowed, and I felt the cramps as he whined his pain. I gave him a lot, far more than the other day. When it was over, I stood him up, his belly outrageously swelling.

"This is called a butt-plug," I said, as I held it before him, lubing it. "It goes into you, and because of the shape it stays. You can't get rid of it."

"Oh, wow."

"Look at me."

I reached behind him, and slowly pushed it into him. He winced as the large part passed his sphincter, then relaxed.

"Feels quite nice."

"Just wait."

I stood him aginst the wall and left him. Ten minutes later I could see he'd had enough. He was grey and shivering, his eyes imploring. I led him to the toilet and pulled it out, and he groaned as he discharged the water, on and on.

I dried him, and did it again. By the time I'd finished, he was exhausted, tottering on his feet. I led him to the sofa and clamped his ankles, then covered him with a blanket, and kissed him.

I searched through my videos and found the hardest I had. Whippings, cuttings and piercings and blood. It was horrible. God knows why I had it. I put it on, turned up the sound.

"Enjoy," I said.

I went to sort out the basement. Everything had to be right for this. I cleaned, tidying everything. I took my toys downstairs and put them in their positions. I was ready.

On the video, they were preparing for a branding. Tim was staring at it in horror.

"Oh god, you won't do that to me, will you?"

"Might."

Actually, I've always been a fan of branding. But it's a big thing, a once-and-for-all thing, something you build up to. And I prefer soft lights, elegant bindings, rather than the grotesque gothic torture chamber they were using, glowing braziers and dripping walls. It sets the terror in context. On the screen, strange things were happening to the accompaniment of very actorly screams. It was absurd. But Tim was taking it. I let the moment linger.

"Perhaps not till you've left school. It might turn some heads in the showers."

He stared at me with an unreadable expression. I stopped the video.

"Stand up."

He stood, the blanket falling to the floor. I uncatched his ankles and wrists.

"Now. It's time. So I want a special consent, Tim. Will you come downstairs and learn about pain? You only have to say no, and we'll stop for now. I won't be angry."

He looked me in amazement.

"You're so careful, aren't you?"

"Just at the moment."

"The answer's yes. The answer's always yes, David. Still yes."

I took him in my arms and kissed him firmly, and he melted against me.

"Come on, then."

I opened the door and led him, naked and hard, down the stairs.

Chapter 58. Overture

I opened the door and with an ironic gesture invited him in.

"Present."

"Yes, sir." He took the position, and I could see him looking round, his eyes shining.

I like my dungeon. Dungeons like Paul's with all those sconces, bare stone and so on leave me cold. They're so phoney. Mine is papered with light blue paper, flecked with grey, and the ceiling is white. Okay, so the floor covering is waterproof and goes up the walls a foot [30 cm], but it's deep blue, and soft underfoot. There's a huge Chinese print of a tiger, its teeth slightly showing, and on another wall a nighttime landscape, the hills spreading far away under the moon. As a contrast, there's a version of Blood and Pain by someone I once brought there, and who I suspect was not entirely sane. The lighting is from several standard lamps; I can move them around or turn them off one by one as I like. The pillars which hold up the house are painted white, and the chains which hang everywhere are chrome, shiny.

The other thing is, it's quite big. I don't like pokey, cluttered dungeons. Mine is a good thirty feet [9 m] long. The equipment is well spaced out. At one end there's the tiled area, with a toilet and shower. And there's the cell. But there are also a table and chairs, a fridge. A bed.

One man I'd taken there said the blue wallpaper was 'vomit making' with the shackles and whips hanging on it. The place had fascist undertones, he said. Can't see it myself. Another said that it "reeked of petty-bourgeois drawing room decadance." I'd taken that as a compliment. That was just what I was aiming at. I liked taking them to the utter extreme in such a place. It offended them.

I led Tim across.

"Now. This is a rack. Do you know what that is? Tell me."

"You lie on it, and then – it stretches you."

His eyes were glowing. As I thought, this was close to his fantasies. Okay, something nice to start with. Painful, but nice.

"That's right. This one has electric motors. I can turn it by hand, or control it with these buttons. It's cute. Okay, up you get."

He climbed onto it and stretched out. He was as hard as he could be. He stretched out his arms and legs to be bound, and I felt faint. I didn't use his wrist and ankle bands. I have special fixtures which pull more evenly.

"Now. Let me just tighten it a bit."

I twirled the handles, took up the slack. His arms and legs straightened. I turned again, and he groaned.

"Just a start. You know, I tried this once with a side of beef. Using the motors. They pulled it clean in half."

One more click. He would be feeling it now, just the suspicion of pain in the shoulders and the muscles of the arms. One more click. His dick was jerking, dripping precum.

"Sir…"

"Hush."

I licked his nipples, his armpits, and then lower, his navel, and he moaned.

"Sir! Sir, I…"

"Do not come. You don't have permission."

I let him feel the tension for a couple of minutes, as I got a box from a cupboard. Clips. Clips of all sizes and stengths, but I wouldn't need the nastier ones this time. I selected one, and held it for Tim to see.

"What is it?"

"Let me show you."

Carefully, I let it clamp onto to left nipple. The pain it causes is small, but intense and insistent. He drew his breath sharply, staring at me. I paused for a while and then placed its twin on the other side.

"Sir…"

"Hush, Tim. Not a sound, now."

I paused for a while, for him to experience it, to know that it would continue. I held his eyes, daring him, challenging him.

He was still hard, dripping. I had a hand full of the clips now.

"Now Tim, stay quiet. Stay completely quiet."

I started slowly to clip them round his scrotum. His breath got quicker, but still he made no sound, no sound at all. I put five.

"How is that, Tim?"

His voice was quivering.

"It hurts. Oh god, it hurts…"

"Yes, love, I know. But you can do this. I'm going to put a few more. Not a sound, now. Show me you can do this."

I stroked his dick gently. His eyes were wide, wild. I could feel his body shaking as I added another five, slowly, one by one, carefully.

A strange, ethereal high-pitched sound sound came from him. He was still completely hard.

"Hush now, Tim. Just a few more."

He was close, so close to his limit. I added another three. He was shaking harder now, his breath panting. I paused for a moment, to let him feel where he had got.

Carefully, I took the clips in one hand.

Then with one movement I pulled them all off, and swept off the ones on his nipples. He screamed, and while he was still screaming I took him in my mouth. I was gentle, but insistent, and soon his screams were mixed with other noises. I could just see his face, contorted and twisted with his pain, his pleasure. Then he came. And this is what it was all for: twisting pain and pleasure into a single rope, until he couldn't tell them apart. That was his fantasy, which he'd been caressing in his mind for so long. That's what Tim was about.

His come slid over my tongue, light and young, and I swallowed it.

"Okay?"

"God, yes, oh yes, oh yes, sir, oh yes…"

I kissed him, my mouth still sticky with him. I waited a few minutes, stroking his hair.

Then I snapped the releases and carried him to a chair.

Chapter 59. First Act

I smiled at him.

"So, how about that?"

"You're such a bastard. You know what to do to me every time." He smiled.

"You're brave. I'm proud of you."

"Is that it?"

"Oh no. Oh no, not it at all. That was just a bit of fun. That was for you, Tim, because that's the sort of thing you want, isn't it? That's what you've always wanted."

"How did you know?" A whisper.

"I know things like that. And I'm just beginning to know you. It'll take a lifetime, but I think I'll get you worked out in the end."

"I love you so much."

"But there are lots of things about you I don't know, aren't there, Tim? And now's the time to find out about them. Now I want to know about your abuser. I want to know what he did, every detail. I want to know how you felt. I want the lot."

"No! No, sir, I can't! I can't tell you those things, I just can't!"

"You can. I shall make you. I shall force you to. You will dig and dig, dig up everything you've tried so hard to forget, and tell me."

He just stared at me, flatly. I recognised it. It was despair.

"Sir, I can't. If you try, I shall have to safeword. I – I can't do it. I – it would destroy me, sir. Sir, I'm begging you."

"No, it wouldn't destroy you. It would free you. Do you think I would do this if I didn't know? This is what happened to Andrew, for example. I know what I'm saying, Tim, and I'm asking you to trust me."

I had thought about this, long and hard. I had never done it before. But I would have to. It terrified the daylights out of me, but there wasn't anything else we could do.

"And I know you would safeword," I went on. "That's why I'm going to ask you to give up your safeword, Tim. To give up your safeword, and let me go beyond that. To let me take you where we can do this. Will you do it? Can you trust me enough for that?"

He stared at me open mouthed.

"Will you do it?"

For a long moment he said nothing. Then he whispered: "Yes, sir. Because you ask. But I think it's the end of me."

A single tear run down his cheek.

"Then say this: 'Symphony is my safeword. I give you symphony'. Say it twice."

He did it. He went through this terrifying little ritual, which until now I had only ever heard of. He looked half dead.

"Thank you. And now come here."

"Yes, sir."

"Not sir. You have no safeword. This is no longer a scene. This is something else."

He wasn't listening. He was leaving me, going somewhere dark and horrible, somewhere he had been avoiding for years. This must start to work, and start quickly. I lifted him up myself, and put him back on the rack, and strapped him down.

Then I spun him taut, and went to get out my electric kit.

I had stripped down a cattle-prod to make this. Now it had a dial to set intensity. From a sharp stab up to close to death. Applied carefully it was quite safe. But it was the cruellest tool in my armoury.

I applied the electrodes, two to each thigh. Then I leant over his face.

He looked at me like a stranger. I felt a horror rising in me at what I must do. And a dreadful, cold anger at what had happened to him, that made this necessary. Well. It couldn't be delayed.

"Tim. Listen to me."

His eyes turned towards me.

"This is the time of your calvary, Tim, your crucifixion. Now you must beat this thing, or be destroyed. But if you beat it, Tim, everything will be all right. Everything will be lovely and happy. But you must tell me, and I shall make you."

"The end. I can't."

"You can. Tim. Tell me now. Tell me the name of your abuser. Tell me his name."

"I can't. You know I can't."

And so we started.

Was it justified, what I did? Still, all these years later, I can't really say. There are some things, surely, that can never be justified, no matter what good comes from them. There are some terrible calculations which human beings aren't good enough to make, which are reserved for the kindly powers alone.

I know that when I told Paul that I had worked without a safeword on that awful day, he was shocked speechless, and felt right to his death that I had done wrong. Our friendship was not broken, but I know he never changed his mind. But Tim has told me times without counting that it was right, that this was how he started to get free from his history. But I can't be sure.

Across the room, Blood and Pain whirled at me, exultant. I felt its pull, as always. The wheel of agony. Chris, who knows them all well, all our mandalas, says we mustn't forget that it stands also for redemption. But I couldn't feel it then.

I overwhelmed him with pain. We must have gone far, far beyond his limits, far back into that dark and horrible gulf of his history. And there he wrestled with his enemy. I held him in the arena, I forced him to stay there, and there they fought. For nearly half an hour they struggled, as I applied the power again and again, weeping.

And there, finally, he won his victory, his first victory over his enemy, his abuser, and named him to me.

"MIKE! IT WAS MIKE!"

Chapter 60. Intermezzo

"Tell me again, Tim. Name the bastard. Name him!"

"It was Mike, it was Mike. Mike did it. It was Mike all the time…"

I carried him to the bed and lay along side him, cuddling him.

"Tell me again, Tim, tell me again! Name that fucking bastard swine, name that fucking dogturd! Name him!"

"Mike! Mike did it!"

He stroked my face.

"Master, you're crying. Don't cry, Master, it's all right, I've named him, haven't I?"

I kissed him frantically, gobbling him, his mouth, his eyes, his cheeks, his neck.

"Oh god, yes, you've named him. Oh god, you have. Oh Tim, I thought I was killing you…"

"Oh no. I'm not dead. No. I'm alive. I have a Master now, and I'm not dead at all!"

"And where is he, Tim?" I knew, of course, but I wanted to hear him say it.

"In prison. He killed Charleen."

"Tell me the story, Tim."

"He came to live with Charleen and me. I was six." He was speaking in a small, childish voice. I wept inside. "And he did things to me. Mike did. Later we left the house. I was nine. We left Mike behind, and we stayed in a hostel for a bit. Then we went to live with Tony. Then Mike… Then Mike… Then Charleen was dead, and Mike went to prison. And if I ever tell he'll come and kill me! Kill me!"

"Tim. Tim. Will he come and kill you?"

"Yes, yes, they'll let him out one day and he'll…" His voice changed. "No. All that's shite. That's just shite, and I want it OUT OF ME!" He screamed the words. Then flatly, conversationally: "No, he's just rotting away in there, sod him. They won't let him out for at least another twelve years. I'll be 26 then, and it won't matter a damn."

He smiled at me.

"Can we go upstairs for a bit? I'm famished."

"Sure."

I opened the door, and he took the stairs, two at a time. He charged through the living room and, naked, out into the meadow.

"I hate you, Mike, you bastard!" he yelled at the top of his voice. "And you'll never get me again!"

Then he was at my feet, kissing them. I lifted him up.

"I – I don't feel very proud of myself just now," I said.

He looked at me in amazement.

"Why not? You're the best. Don't you realise what you've done? You're the best! I don't think any of them could have done what you've done. None of them – none of them would have dared. Not that sarcastic little rat, Anthony, not Peter, never in a million years, not Damian, not even Paul. Not even him. None of them."

He came close, staring in my eyes.

"You gave me my life. That's what you've done. This is why I wanted you as my Master, I never realised it till now, but that's why. I knew you could do it."

"I'm not your Master. Not while you have no safeword. I tortured you without a safeword. Tim…"

I covered my eyes. A reaction was setting in, a dark, gnawing, guilty self-hatred. I'd had them before, but never this bad.

"Tim, that was abuse. I abused you, as badly as anyone could."

"Sure. So what?" I stared at him. "We always knew that's what we'd have to do. Since when, when you fucked me in chains. Since then. We have to go where he went, where Mike went, don't we? That's what we have to do."

"Yes. All the way. And – I'm not sure I can. I'm not sure I'm a good enough person."

"Why not? What do you mean?"

"Because – Tim, it's horrible to admit it. But, but there was a part of me that enjoyed it. There was a part of me that, that was looking at you lying there, screaming, and loving every moment of it."

He stared at me in amazement.

"Of course there was. So fucking what? If there weren't, what bloody use would you be? Look, are you my Master?"

"Not now. I said…"

"Then stop yammering and make me a sandwich."

I started to laugh, and only just managed to stop it becoming hysterical. He wandered outside; the rain had stopped, but it was a damp and blustery day. I built him a sandwich and called him back.

He threw himself on the sofa, and devoured the sandwich in vast bites.

"Come and sit here." I did.

"That electric thing was really vicious," he said, cuddling against me. "It was ten times more painful than anything I've ever felt. And it just went on and on. It didn't change. And I looked up at you, and I knew you would just go on and on until – I told you."

"Oh god, Tim…"

"I knew it would go on and on, you were strong enough to make it go on and on for ever, I was tied there, and there was NOTHING I could do to stop it, except tell you. And, he, Mike, he just welled up inside me and I could hear him saying I would die if I told you, and it was like a battle, you know? But in the end, you won. Mike lost, and you won. And if you enjoyed it, now tell me, for fuck's sake, what is wrong with that?"

He kissed me. We kissed deeply and long.

"We haven't finished, have we?"

"No. Now I want you to come downstairs. And then I'll do it all again. Maybe it won't be so bad this time, but it could be. Will you come?"

"I have no safeword. Why don't you make me? You're much stronger than me."

"I can't make you, BECAUSE you have no safeword. Your safeword is your protection, but it's also my permission. Now there is no permission. Think about it."

He thought about it.

"Okay. I will come downstairs, and I want you to go on to the next thing. However you think you should."

I kissed him again.

"If I'm the best, you're the bravest. Come on."

Chapter 61. Second Act

I stared down at Tim.

"You have no safeword. You have no limits. I can do anything I want with you."

"Yes, Master."

"You have no Master. You are alone. You have only me, your torturer. I enjoy your pain, and I am without mercy."

I leant closer.

"I am going to hurt you, so, so much."

He stared at me. At that moment, I meant what I said. Blood and Pain still burnt in my mind, like a red-hot wheel of iron. I could see that Tim believed me.

"Now tell me. Describe what happened, the first time Mike fucked you."

"Oh god no…"

Terribly, horribly, we worked through it. This wasn't as bad as the electricity. Nothing like. I could keep going as long as I needed, slackening him off to rest, and tightening him again.

And Blood and Pain gave me no mercy, because he was lovely. The strainings along his arms and legs as the rack pulled him, up the sides of his body, were beautiful to me. That's the truth. Even in this terrible place, his agony was beautiful.

Because he was deep inside himself now, deep in the things he had always tried to forget, forcing himself past these old betrayals, standing beside the seven-year-old child he had been. The battle was on again, and his enemy fought for every yard. But gradually, step by step it came out, the story, piece by piece, as we worked, each brutality, each nasty little detail. Slowly he fought through it, how the man came to him in his room, and all the things he did there, up to the beating, and the vile consummation.

And last of all, I heard the curse of the abuser, which had been part of Tim all these years, locked him in his loneliness, and brought us to this point.

"Then he said: 'You asked me to. You asked me to. It's your fault, you prick-teasing brat.' He whispered it again and again. And he said he'd kill me if I told anyone, he said he'd cut me in pieces, and he said he'd kill Charleen too, and I believed him, and I thought it was my own fault, and I was never happy again. Not for years. Because after that he did it nearly every night. And every night he said the same things, over and again. And in the end he really did kill Charleen, and for years after that I knew, deep down I just knew, that it was all my fault."

It was finished. And now at last Blood and Pain let me go, and I wept tears of anger and grief for that little lonely child, who despite everything had grown into my miraculous, my incomparable lover.

I had slackened the rack, but you can't relax it all at once; it's too much. I cuddled Tim where he lay, stretched out, and kissed him, and told him how brave he was. Slowly, a click at a time, I slackened him off, and then I could snap the releases and carry him to the bed.

Chapter 62. Victim

He smiled at me.

"It's okay now," he said. "I can tell you anything now. It's all over. I'll tell you everything."

I thanked god, I thanked Paul, who had trained me, I thanked all the kindly powers. I just knew I had never done, would never do anything as great as this. Carefully, I rolled him onto his back.

"Then listen: Symphony is your safeword. I give you symphony. Say it."

"Symphony."

"Again."

He looked at me, smiling, his eyes glistening.

"Symphony."

I kissed him gently.

"But I don't think I'll need it. I used my slowword. I don't think I'll ever use my safeword again."

"Try moving, now. See how it feels."

"It's okay."

But I had to help him up the stairs, his legs were so wobbly.

He sat in the sofa. I covered him with a blanket; the contortions of dressing would still be beyond him. It was brighter now. Watery sunlight poured cross the meadow. I opened the patio doors to let in the air, the sound of the birds celebrating the end of the rain.

I made a cup of tea and came back to him.

"You're good, you know? You're good at that. You should take up torturing as a career."

"I already have. Well, torturing you, anyhow."

He laughed.

"Was I okay, then? Will I do as a victim?"

I hugged him. He winced.

"You're wonderful. You're tremendous. I think all of that stretching will be within your limits soon. If you can handle that, you can handle anything." I paused. "Even whipping."

His face clouded over.

"I still don't much like the sound of that."

"You'll be okay. You'll find I can be surprisingly subtle. It isn't just screaming your lungs out. That isn't what I'm after."

"You were right, you know. I am a bit hoarse."

"You just rest for a while. I'll fix us some lunch."

"Am I your favourite victim?"

My god, wasn't he!

"Yes. The cutest, and the brightest. And the squealiest. And the most smiling."

I tweaked his nose. He curled up on the sofa under the blanket and looked over his knees with a smug smile.

"His favourite victim. My Master's favourite victim. Mmm."

I went to make lunch. I could hear him humming quietly. Then I called him through, and he came, walking slowly. The sun, getting stronger now, lit up his hair. Wrapped in his blanket he seemed exotic, precious and fragile.

"So. What are we going to do this afternoon?"

"In a moment we'll go and sit outside, as it's got warmer. Then we'll have a talk. This evening, we'll see."

Chapter 63. Balancing

I had. I just didn't know when.

"A day's gone by," he said. "I think, Master, you've made your point. Any longer and it'll be hard."

"You're right. Thank you."

I dialed her number.

"Chris. It's David."

"Oh David, dear, thank you for calling me, I've been feeling so wretched. How is Tim?"

"He's fine, Chris, he's fine. Chris, I've got to apologise…"

"You?! I brought that bastard into your house. I'll never forgive myself!"

"It worked out okay in the end, though we've had a few hairy moments since then. I'll tell you all about it. I suppose they made you some kind of offer you couldn't refuse?"

"Yes. Just the usual. Loss of my professional qualification, social disgrace, absolute ruin. Not just me, but all my client-slaves. They have wives and children, David, and I'm their Mistress. I have responsibility. They just wanted to check that everything was okay, they said. That didn't seem too dreadful, so I agreed. I knew you weren't abusing him."

"I know them a bit better now. They aren't wicked. They're actually rather a good thing, in many ways. But they weren't either subtle or intelligent, this time. They got to Paul, too, later. Chris, will you come round? I need your help."

I could hear that this choked her up.

"Of course, David. Anything."

"I'd like you to talk to Tim. He's an abused kid, Chris. I think you can help us with this."

"Maybe. Okay, I'll be right round."

"I'll meet you at the gate."

We hung up.

"Right, she's coming round. I'll go and meet her – tidy up the lunch while I'm out, and put on some clothes."

"Okay. Chris is okay. That was a good thought."

I kissed him. The drive was wet, fresh-smelling after the rain, the grass glistened in the new afternoon sun. Everything was good.

I took the mail out of the mail box, and started to open it, waiting. In a moment she arrived. I hopped into her car. We kissed, and I could see she had been crying.

"Dear David. Well, okay, tell me. What has he told you?"

"Paul said, if necessary you must question him under the lash."

"What?! And you did?"

"Well, not the lash. Electric shocks, and the rack."

"Good god, David! Did it work? What happened? Is he okay?"

"He told me. Who his abuser was, what happened the first time. And he's okay. He says he'll tell me now. Chris, it sounds dreadful, but it was just so hot."

"Master, I am seriously impressed. Especially from someone who wouldn't lay a finger on him less than a week ago."

"Mm. Things have changed. It was his idea to invite you, by the way. He suggested I should ring you. One day was enough to make my point, he said; anything more and it would be hard to ring. Think of the maturity behind that, Chris. Truly adult."

"Abused kids get like that, when they turn out right."

We drew up at the house, and Tim was waiting for us. Chris swept him into her arms, and he laughed as she kissed him.

"So, Tim. Been through the wars, I hear? Do you feel okay?"

"Wonderful, ma'am! Although – I'm a bit sore still."

She put him down hurriedly.

"Racky joints, eh? Okay in a few hours. Don't worry."

He giggled. I was scanning the mail.

"Hey! This is a letter from Anthony! He says there's a bug in the house! They bugged our house!"

"I thought they would."

"Dammit, Tim! We should have looked for it!"

"Doesn't matter. That would just have annoyed them. Now they know, and maybe they'll leave us alone."

He went to look for it, as I filled Chris in as well as I could. A few minutes later he brought it back. It was about the size of a packet of cigarettes.

"It was under Peter's chair."

I ground it under my heel.

"What does Anthony say?"

"Listen.

   "Dear Master

"I fear we took the precaution of placing a surveillance device in your home. My apologies. I enclose, however, a transcript of a conversation which you and Timothy had on the evening of our meeting. Permit me to express once again my admiration for the intelligence and perspicacity of that young man. His appreciation of the situation, although not entirely flattering to me or my associates, was correct in every essential detail.

"I would correct him in one respect, however. It is not the case that I view you and Timothy as unimportant. On the contrary, this transcript has born in on me your extreme significance. We shall, I trust, discuss this on a future occasion.

"Let me conclude, Master, by reiterating Timothy's emphasis upon your own role in his development and future life. It is crucial. The full transcript makes this clear, and is a tribute to the uncorrupt nature of your relationship, and to the way you are guiding it.

"You may assume that the period of 'snooping around' correctly foreseen by Timothy is now at an end.

"Yours very sincerely

"Anthony, M."

Attached was the transcript [see section 56]. I have it still.

Chapter 64. Intelligence and Perpicacity

"Intelligent and perspicacious, that's me," said Tim.

"Odious and smug child. There's still a whipping to come, remember?"

"There is that, yes," he said, a bit subdued.

We wandered through to the patio, Chris still reading. I made some tea.

"So, Tim, you learnt a few things, then, when you were a kid, mm?"

She was brisk, businesslike.

"I guess so. How to work out what people want. How to get them to do what you want, without them knowing. How to play people off one against another. Things like that."

"Are those good things to know?"

"They're useful. Especially if everyone else is stronger than you. Especially if most of them are fairly stupid."

"Do you think knowing them makes you a better person?"

"Not really. You could know them and be pretty nasty."

"Nasty in what way?"

"Mean, cruel, vicious. Brutal. What other ways are there to be nasty?"

"How about spiteful? Gossipy? Despising other people? Getting people to do things for you which you should do yourself? Generally treating people as if they didn't matter? Stirring up trouble just for the hell of it?"

"Yes, you could know those things and still be nasty in those ways."

"Do you think knowing those things makes you more likely to be nasty in those ways?"

Tim stared at her.

"Yes," he said, very quietly.

"Do you think being like that would make a person popular?"

"No." It was a very subdued Tim now.

"That was laying it on hard, Tim," said Chris. "But you're bright enough to cope. But tell me. If a person turned out nasty in those ways, if they'd been abused, would you be surprised?"

"No, I wouldn't."

"So whose fault would it be, if that happened?"

"The person who'd abused them, I suppose."

"Right. Actually, Tim, let me tell you something. You aren't a nasty person, not really. You just think you are."

Tim started to cry quietly.

"You think you are, because so many people, like Charleen and your abuser, what was his name? Mike, yes, and those other people told you you were, because you used your cleverness to defend yourself. That's not nasty, Tim, that's self-defence. Everyone's allowed to do that. But then they told the school, and it spread, and pretty soon, just a bit, you start to act up to it. Am I right?"

"Yes."

"So, what do we do now?"

"I don't know. I'm disgusting, and it's hopeless."

"You aren't disgusting, Tim, you're funny, and open-hearted, and generous, and brave. Also, you really hate cruelty, especially to helpless and weak people. All those are good things. Now, Tim, you're intelligent. I'm asking you to see that what you said is wrong, and all those other people were wrong, and I am right. Am I right?"

"You must be. But it's very difficult to feel it that way."

"So you must come and see me, lots of times, and we'll sort this out. Okay?"

"Yes, ma'am."

He was smiling at her now, through his tears. I blessed Chris with all my heart.

"And what have you done already, to get things straight?"

"I became my Master's slave."

"Yes. And he'll steer you, and guide you, and when the nasty bits come out, he'll do something about it, will he? Is that the idea?"

"Yes. He's everything. He's good and strong."

"But?"

"Sometimes, he's too nice, almost. Sometimes he's, he's not really strict. When he should be. Master, I…"

"Don't worry, Tim. Say what's needed, okay? That's an order."

"But Tim, he spent the morning torturing you."

"He's good at that. He understands all that so well, ma'am, you wouldn't believe how good he is at it. It's outside all that, then he can be almost too nice, he lets me get away with things."

"Like what?"

"Like – like that bug thing. I knew it must be there. I didn't look, but it had to be. I should have told him, but I didn't. I thought, well, I thought our conversations would be more impressive if he didn't know. It's like you said, ma'am, I get people to do things. I – I manipulate them. But he's my Master. That was wrong."

"Tim! Why, you devious little bastard!" I burst out.

They both laughed at me.

"So your Master's got to be a bit stricter with you, hasn't he?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Okay, that's his lesson. And when you come to see me, I'll set you lessons, too. And then two weeks from now, we'll all talk about how the lessons have gone. Okay?"

We agreed.

Chapter 65. Sick and Slimy

So Tim told her. She looked shaken.

"Tim, it's my job to be, well, a bit detached, a bit standoffish when we're talking like this. But I want you to know that I feel so sad for that little boy. Do you feel sad for him?"

"Yes. I can now," and he was weeping.

"But before?"

"I tried not to think about it."

"That's not fair, is it? Not fair to that little crying boy. He was only seven, Tim, that's not much more than a baby, is it?"

"No. It was cruel."

"He needs you to comfort and cuddle him, that little boy, not tell him to shut up. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I do now. But I just wanting all that, all that whining to go away…"

"And who is that speaking, Tim? Who wanted the whining to stop, and shouted 'Shut up, you whining brat' and stuff like that? Who was that?"

There was a long pause.

"Mike. That was Mike." He sighed.

"Yes. How come you're doing what he did?"

The pause went on for a long, long time. Chris waited patiently.

"I suppose he became part of me, in some ways. Part of him was in me."

"Yes. That's how they work, you know? They become part of you, and that's how they manipulate you. Did your Master help?"

"Oh yes, ma'am, he's helped so much! In lots of ways, lots and lots. Not just today, in the basement, other times, every time he fucks me, and just being around him."

"That's good." She looked straight at Tim, then hit him with it, almost brutally. "When Mike raped you, did you enjoy it?"

Tim screamed. It was so abrupt, I jumped in my chair.

"NO!! It was horrible, absolutely horrible! I hated it, every single time!"

"You can still enjoy things, with a part of you, even if they're horrible. Can't you? Your body works in these ways, and that's it. If you rub a man or a boy inside, rub their prostate, they get hard and it feels nice, even if everything else is horrible. That's just the way a male person works."

Tim was weeping again. Then, after a long pause:

"It's true, I did get hard. Sometimes. In fact it was more. He always beat me before he, he raped me, so I used to look forward to it stopping. But it was a sick feeling. Sick and slimy."

"Yes. Thank you, Tim, that can't be easy to say. You're a brave boy, do you know that? Very brave."

"My Master helped me. He made me talk. I can talk because he made me."

"Yes. And what else did he show you? I don't know this, he hasn't told me, but I can guess."

Suddenly Tim smiled.

"He's fucked me four times, now. Each time was lovely. He's never hurt me doing that, not really. And each time I came. Just from him fucking me. And he was so lovely, always making me feel good, always caring how I felt."

"So how does that compare to the feelings you got when Mike raped you?"

There was a pause while this sank in.

"Oh god! It's – it's just not in the same world. Just – just, well, nothing! No comparison at all."

"See? You gave Mike nothing, except what he stole. You gave your Master everything."

"It's true! Everything." He looked at me. "I give you everything."

I grasped his hand.

"Well, look, Tim, we'll have to talk some more about this, because it's very deep, it needs working out. Not just as you think, but as you feel. But it's clear to me that although Mike wanted to harm you, he hasn't really succeeded much. In the end, you and your Master are far, far stronger. And so much for him."

She made a dismissive gesture.

"Surgery over. For today."

I looked at her. She was a revelation.

"Hey," she said, breaking the mood, "Is it really true that Tim comes every time you guys fuck? Just from the fucking?"

We laughed, Tim almost hysterically.

"Every time," I said. "Reliable as clockwork."

"Well, shit. Some people have all the luck."

Chapter 66. Punishment Detail

"Chris, I can't thank you enough."

"Oh, that was just the beginning. Marking out the territory. All very unorthodox, of course, but who cares. There's lots more work to do, but don't worry, okay David? There's nothing that can't be sorted. And please, he's not a bird with a broken wing, okay? Get on with it, for pete's sake."

She drove off.

When I came back, Tim was standing.

"I'm sorry, sir."

"Yes. Well, I will accept your apology, but there must be some punishment."

I was determined to carry this through, now. He winced.

"Are you – are you going to beat me?"

"Beat you? God, no. In this household, beating is for fun. Nothing like that."

He smiled.

"No. Go and tidy the dungeon, it's a mess. Put all the clips into the box marked FOR AUTOCLAVE, and be careful with them, okay? Then go and tidy your room, that's a mess, too. Then you can hoover this carpet and dust down the furniture, and clean the patio door windows, they're filthy. After that, I'll introduce you to the lawnmower. And take your clothes off first."

He gave me an ironic smile, but obeyed. I read a book and watched him working. He didn't seem too disheartened. I showed him the lawnmower, how to start it and run it. It was delightful to watch him, naked, wrenching it round the corners. I hadn't forgotten that he must still be aching from the rack, and it couldn't be easy, but he still got into it. He worked hard. I was impressed.

Finally, he came back to me, grinning.

"All finished, sir."

"Very good, slave. In that case, I accept your apology. Do not attempt to manipulate me again."

"No, sir."

I kissed him. His response was frantic, desperate, and I held him for a long time. Over his shoulder I could see the sun setting. For a moment it gave me Exchange and Balance. I was satisfied.

"Okay, kid. Go and put some clothes on and come and help me with the supper."

He went and came back happily, and we set to work.

"Chris was really brilliant, wasn't she? I was expecting her just to stroke my hand and say 'poor dear', but she didn't at all. She just went in there."

"Yup. It was quite a shock to me, too, I've never seen her at work before. But of course, she's a professional. I suppose it's like a surgeon, really, you have to cut to cure."

"Will you ring up and make some appointments for me tomorrow? I need some more of that."

"Do it yourself. She may want to speak to you about it. By the way, in treatment I think you should treat her as your Mistress. You can't be forever asking me what you can say. Take it that I want you to answer all her questions, to say what's needed and to work hard at this, okay?"

"Check."

"Come on, let's eat."

We ate in silence for a while. I gazed in awe at Tim's voraciousness. We would need to shop again soon.

Chapter 67. Another Introduction

"Not bad. My joints don't hurt any more. I liked the lawnmowing, sorry, but I did, and it seemed to tighten things up somehow. I feel fine, actually."

"That's good. Because I'm going to beat you now."

"Oh, god. Oh, David, I'm – I'm absolutely terrified of this one. Really."

I held his hand. He was quivering like a frightened dog. But we had to go through this. It was getting in the way.

"Tim. It will be all right. Trust me on this. I'm going to insist, Tim, because I want you through this one. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay. Go and change into a swimsuit. We won't be going downstairs."

This calmed him a bit. I closed all the curtains, then went downstairs, put the tools I might need in a box, so as not to scare him, and brought them back up.

He was standing in the middle of the room, wearing the swimsuit he had on the very first day. He was not looking happy. I tried a smile, but he couldn't manage it. I went over and kissed him, and he started to cry.

"Who am I, Tim?"

"David, my Master."

"Have I ever done anything bad for you?"

"Never, absolutely never."

"Then trust me."

He gave me a watery smile. I sat in an upright chair.

"Strip."

He obeyed. He was completely soft.

"Come and lie over my knees. Hands above your head."

He looked at me in surprise. He hadn't anticipated this, but he obeyed.

He was stretched over my lap. He had conquered one fear. I was as hard as I could be. His exquisite arse cheeks, tanned, were before me, waiting.

I began to spank him, gently, scarcely more than pats, alternating one cheek and the other, quite slowly. I put a hand under him and felt him. He was still soft, but as I gently felt him, he began to rise. I speeded up a little, and then some more, and then started to increase the power, slowly, slowly. He was still hard, and I was slowly, gently, jerking him, and my blows grew harder and harder.

Ten minutes. Now the slaps were loud, stinging, firm. I was moving all over his cheeks now, they were red, almost shining, and he was started to moan as I jerked him, faster and faster.

Fifteen minutes, and he was crying out, tears in his eyes. Soon I was spanking him almost as hard as I could, it was hurting me, and I could feel his precum soaking me, my hand slipping over him demanding, insisting, and he was bucking and yelling.

Then he tensed hard and came, spurting into my hand, as I continued the blows with all the strength of my arm. He screamed and screamed, rigid as a board over my lap.

I stopped, and he was onto me, hugging and kissing like a maniac.

"So," I said as he finally relaxed in my arms, "Was that so terrible?"

He was sitting on my lap, facing me, his legs round my sides.

"You know," he said with a cheshire cat smile. "You know."

I licked the tears from his face. I love moments like this.

"Now do you trust me a bit more?"

"I always trust you. It's me I don't trust."

I stroked his back. He purred. We cuddled for ten minutes, saying very little.

Chapter 68. Primal Scene

"All? No, kid, you've got a lot more to give me yet."

I put him on his feet.

"Come over here," I said.

"Yes, sir."

I led the way to the Chair.

"This should really be done on the cross," I said, "But I don't think that would be fair to hang you on that tonight. So we'll use this."

His smile was silky as he climbed up. He stretched out his arms and legs, and I strapped him in. He gave a voluptuous sigh, and relaxed. I realised that he was deeply, deeply into this, almost away by himself, and all I needed to worry about was giving him what he wanted.

I stripped myself, then. Some things you cannot do, except naked.

"Tim," I said quietly, "I'm going to whip you now."

The one I used had a single strand, broad, very light. It would scarcely hurt at all. I moved slowly up from his stomach to his chest, and flicked his nipples with it. He moved, as if relaxing into an eiderdown, and moaned gently. I worked my way down, down, till I reached his stone-hard dick and balls, and worked them a little, and he gave a series of in-drawn hisses. He was looking at me now.

"Don't be frightened, sir," he said quietly. "I'm okay. You can do more than that."

I switched to a scourge of many broad tails, but still light, and worked him up and down, down his legs, and lightly on his dick and balls. I worked for a long time, getting harder and harder. He began to give more and more moans, moving his head, still looking at me, as I built up, harder and harder.

Then I switched again. This one had many tails, but heavier. As I worked him, he began a high, continuous cry, almost a wail. For a while I continued, building up gradually, but striking slowly, deliberately. His eyes were staring at me, but he was away, far away. He was dribbling precum massively, and it flicked in the lamplight as his body jerked.

I couldn't switch again, not this time. The whole of his body was red now, from shoulders to knees, and he was running with sweat, his face contorted and twitching. For a moment I hesitated.

Suddenly he looked at me and whispered: "Don't stop. Not yet, please…"

So I went on. I worked his stomach, the flesh of his thighs, and more lightly his chest, striking faster now, harder. I was sweating too, the light was glinting off both our bodies, we were joined by the effort. I was so hard, it hurt. This was the hottest scene I had ever done, the slightness of his body and the pain were intoxicating me.

The moans were loader and louder, and I saw that he was about to come, unbelievably, come under the whip. I took a deep breath and prayed.

"Come now, Tim, come for me now! Come! That is an order!"

I struck twice, hard. He shrieked. I did it again. He gave a long, long scream, and then he came. So did I.

I released him and carried him to my bed. He was moaning, crying out, to himself, or me, or god, I don't know.

"Oh god, oh god, oh heaven, lovely, lovely, oh god, oh god…"

I lay behind him, holding him, stroking his hair and kissing his face and neck.

"Oh David, David, oh fuck me please, please fuck me…"

I was ready again. I thrust into him, my dick still slippery with my own come. He was as tight as a vice, and boiling hot, and I forced through his resistance, deep into him. He gave another shriek and began to surge against me, jerking and pressing, wailing and moaning. In no time at all, it seemed, we were both coming again, wildly, both screaming.

And then at last he began to relax. I held him, not too tight; he was going to be very, very sore. I had taken him far beyond where I had intended, and now it was over, I felt a little ashamed.

I needn't have bothered.

He turned over to face me. Our hands were together, our faces close, intimate.

"So that's whipping," he whispered.

"Yes. That was it. Still frightened?"

"Oh David. I never guessed – I never guessed – I had no idea what it was like."

"Still worried by Mike and his belt?"

He started to laugh. He laughed and laughed; not hysterically, a good laugh, full of amusement and fun.

"What a thought. That poor fool. If he'd only known. That was twenty times harder than he ever did, and there I was, loving it…"

He was still giggling as I drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 69. And Then

"Hello," he said, as his eyes opened. He was smiling.

I offered a small prayer of thanks.

"How do you feel?"

He sat up. He was red from his shoulders down, and in a few places bruises were starting to show. He'd look pretty dramatic in a few hours.

"Wow," he said, looking down at himself. "Better wear some clothes today."

I looked at him carefully.

"Make sure to tell me if there are any problems today," I said. "You look okay, but there's a doctor we can see if we have to."

"A doctor? Wouldn't he…"

"No, no, he's cool. Come on, let's get up."

We showered together. I washed him gently, all down his front, round his legs, everywhere I had struck. He was very brave.

Then we were sitting at breakfast. The day was hot again, and I opened the doors to the patio, to let in the air and the song of the birds.

A quiet day, that was the plan.

"Well," he said, "Was I okay? Will I do?"

He laughed at me, an exultant, wild sound.

"Tim, you were marvellous. We went far, far further than I had planned. And I never dreamt you would actually come like that. That was so lovely."

"You should have been me. By the end I scarcely knew where I was. The pain just seemed to fade away, it became an incredible feeling, as if I was coming all over my body, and it got more and more and more intense, and when I came, I just thought I would explode and die. Is it always like that?"

"Only for people like you, love, only for you."

He smiled at me, secretly, utterly happy.

"When can we do it again?"

I laughed. Behind him, The Good Regard was looking at us, and I think I could feel a smile.

"Not for a while. Just look at you! If I did it again now, I could cut you. No, we'll have to find other things to keep you busy. But don't worry. I have – various things in mind."

He got up to look out of the doors. I could hear the thrush challenging the world, and the ducks squabbling in the lake.

"I've got it all, now," he said. "Fucking, whipping. Life, love, everything. I've got it all back. There's nothing left of what he did, nothing at all. We've won."

His hair was pale, pale straw in the sun. His eyes were green under his long lashes. His face, young, boyish, was turned towards me, as one foot [30 cm] slightly ahead, he turned into the morning.

He was my boy, my slave, my lover, my companion, my friend, my life.

And he still is.

The End

A friend asked me, and what happened then?

Well, they found Tim a place in a college nearby, and he moved to stay with David. He got his A levels, went to University. Now he's a political scientist. They say he'll get his professorship before he's thirty. And still they wake up together every morning.

David still writes books. The critics say they're rubbish, but they sell by the million. He's become insanely rich.

Mira remarried. Tim was her witness. It was a fine day.

Tim and David do some work for Anthony and his people. It doesn't make the headlines, it doesn't pay the rent. But it pays their dues in more important ways. They don't forget.

As for me, Jack? Well, I've never been into teenagers, really. Okay, some of them are cute, but there's a barrier, and that's the way it should be. The people who have made our laws and conventions in these things, they aren't fools; some things, some areas, are better left alone.

But now that this story is finished, and Tim and David begin to recede into the background of my life, I can't help being just a little bit in love with both of them. I hope they do well.