Another Nick and Noah

Copyright for this story belongs to and remains with the author. I don't have any major objection to my work being re-distributed, but ASK FIRST!!!

This is a gay adult story with the consequent language and images. If homosexuality and/or sexually explicit themes offend you then do not continue. If these are illegal in your area, then you have my sympathy, but you proceed at your own risk.

This is a work of fiction, and as such the characters are not bound by the usual dictates of modern society. Unsafe sexual practices can be undertaken with impunity only in the world of fantasy. In reality, it is your obligation and your right to play safely, sanely and healthily.

I hope you enjoy my work, and if you have any comments, or ideas that may inspire new work, please feel free to contact me -- all emails will be answered to the best of my ability. iainlthr@hotmail.com.

Another Nick and Noah

Chapter 4

Wednesday and Thursday were busy for all. With their lists of jobs prepared by David, everyone set about making arrangements for the funeral and wake. The parlour would collect the body directly from the morgue on Friday afternoon, and the funeral was scheduled for the following Tuesday. With Frank arriving back at the house on Wednesday afternoon, the place seemed full, but hardly welcoming. A cloud hung over the entire gathering as they worked together to mark the end of Wes' life. Both evenings were spent sitting in contemplation and quiet small talk beside the pool, no-one wanting to raise the awful spectre of the murder openly again, and each night the various couples retired to their rooms late, sleeping uneasily.

By Friday morning, all was in place, and the only thing left to do was wait. The pool had gone unused since Sunday, and without the distraction of something to do, all six men found themselves by noon that day moping about, lost for anything to say and almost willing the passage of the hours to speed up. Frank was the first to take some action.

"Okay, you," he declared to his mate. "Enough of this. I don't care what you say, I'm taking you down to the pub, and getting you drunk! You need to let your feelings go for the night."

Patrick began a feeble argument, but Noah sided with Frank, as did David. "He's right. You won't be able to forget what's happened, but a few stiff drinks tonight and a decent hangover tomorrow, will go a long way towards helping. Go on, it's not being disrespectful. You need to ease some of the stress you've been under for the last week."

And so they went, Frank promising to look after him, and get them both back safely later that night.

"Lose some tension, ease some stress," Nick observed in a mutter. "Now that's something we could all do with."

"You got that right," agreed Joe. A tiny grin flitted across his face as he looked over his companions. "I know what helps me get rid of stress for sure ..." he hissed, leaving the rest unsaid.

"Oh boy, you've got my attention now, Eagar," Nick muttered lustily.

"Mmm," Noah replied wistfully, "But unfortunately, we're a long way from home, and a long way from gear or playrooms, too. I'm prepared to go `vanilla' if you guys want, but it won't be as much fun."

"We might not need to," David smirked. "Go `vanilla', that is." Mysteriously, he got up from his seat and went to find his phone, making a call from the lounge where the others couldn't hear what was said.

"You know what he's on about?" Nick asked Joe.

"Got me beat," Joe replied, "but I'm hoping he has an idea to help us all out. He did live here for a long while you know, and you know what they say about local knowledge."

When David rejoined them, his grin went from ear to ear. "Okay boys, let's go. I hope you're up for a long, hot night!"

His smile was infectious, and the anticipation notched up lusty hopes in all of them.

"Where are we going, Sabre?" Nick asked eagerly, intentionally using David's `Master' name from their sexual roles.

"Well it seems that an old friend of mine remembers me fondly enough to have invited us all over for a session in his dungeon," he chuckled as he shepherded his lover and their mates toward the rented car. "He has more than enough in the way of gear and toys to keep us all satisfied, and a very well equipped dungeon for us to play in."

"And he just happens to be home tonight for us?" asked Nick with a laugh.

"That's where we're lucky, and so is he. I'd lost touch with him lately -- had someone else on my mind ..." he smiled at his lover, making Joe blush. "But he was a very obliging slave when I knew him, likes the name `Punk' when he's enjoying his sex."

"What's his real name?" Noah asked.

"Peter," David answered, "But you won't need to use it tonight. I did hear he'd hooked up with someone long term, and was very happy. Anyway, when I rang he said that his other half had been working long hours all week, and needed to relieve some stress ..."

"Ha, sounds very familiar," observed Joe.

"Exactly," agreed David laughing. "Apparently they have a couple of buddies they usually get together with for fun, but their friends have gone out of town for the weekend, so it was looking like just the two of them. But when I rang, he was more than happy to ask us over. He said his partner was due home any minute, so he'd tell him the good news, and they'd be waiting for us, all geared up and set to go!"

"Excellent," Nick declared, his dick already swelling in anticipation. "So his partner -- I assume he's a top?"

"Yep."

What's his `play' name?"

"No idea," David confessed as they drove. "But I'm sure we'll find out soon enough."

The trip into Melbourne was easy enough, and even just the prospect of sex had eased the mood of the four friends from their earlier gloom. David drove confidently in through the south-eastern suburbs until he stopped the car in front of a small warehouse in a quiet back street of North Richmond.

"Your friend lives here?" Nick asked in surprise.

"Yep. Wait till you see inside the place. He bought it as a warehouse, and converted it to live in. it's a great home, but the play area he's set up has to be seen to be believed!"

David led the eager group across to the front of the building and rapped on a heavy steel door set low in one corner. A sliding bolt rasped against the metal, and the door swung inwards, a soft red light spilling out into the darkness. Standing in the doorway was a large framed man, clad in leather chaps and boots, a straining triangle of black hide covering his groin. A full harness enclosed his upper body, wide strips of gleaming black interspersed with shining silver studs. Around his neck he wore a dog collar similar in appearance to the straps of the harness, but his head was uncovered and shaved.

"Sabre, Sir," he beamed at David. "So good to see you again, come in!"

"Good to see you too, Punk," David answered lustily. As the others followed him into a comfortable sitting room area, he thanked their host.

"Very good of you to have us at such short notice, boy," he said. "We're all in need of a long hot session to take away some serious stress, so you're a real life-saver. All our gear is back in Sydney, and being away from home means no play space either."

"Not at all, sir," Punk responded enthusiastically. "You and your friends are doing us a favour! My man needs the same relief, and I've been looking forward to a good night for days, but our regular fuck buddies are away, so we were on our own. You showing up like this means we'll be able to really get into things."

As he spoke, a door creaked behind him, and into the room stepped a vision in leather. He wore chaps so tight they looked to have been painted over his long muscular legs, and polished boots which came almost to his knees. A fairly simple harness -- two straps over his shoulders and two around his chest, meeting at a chrome ring in the centre -- framed and supported chiselled pecs. Over that harness he wore a leather vest which laced together at either side. Gauntlets encased both arms from wrist to elbow, and bicep bands strained against rippling bulges in his upper arms. A Master's hood covered his head but revealed a square jaw and piercing dark eyes. At his groin, a silver cockring encircled the base of a very long, thick, but flaccid penis, swinging languidly.

The sub grinned widely and waved his arm toward the newcomers. "Sir," he said easily, "this is Master Sabre who rang earlier. He moved to Sydney a few years ago now."

David smiled warmly and held out his hand. "Nice to meet you," he said. "Thanks for letting us call in like this.

"My pleasure," said a deep voice. "Call me `Nightstick', at least for the next few hours," he grinned, shaking David's hand with a powerful grip.

"'Nightstick', eh?" David said, pointedly looking down at the large piece of meat between the man's legs. "Looks like that's appropriate," he chuckled. "These are my friends -- Master Trojan ..."

Nick stepped forward and shook hands warmly as well, appraising the other man with a long look, and having the favour returned. He liked what he saw, very much, and somehow the other man seemed familiar. But Nick dismissed the thought -- it was probably just that his gear reminded Nick of David's own favoured outfit when they played at home.

Indicating Joe and Noah in turn, David went on. "And these two are my boy, Eagar, and Trojan's slave, Viking."

The two both nodded to the Master, and stood back, legs spread and hands behind them.

"Looks like they're well trained," observed Nightstick. "Punk, show our guests into the dressing room, while I finish getting the dungeon ready."

"Yes, Sir," the other slave agreed. As the Master exited through the same door he had entered from, Punk led the four friends into a side room which turned out to be a walk-through wardrobe filled with every imaginable item of leather clothing, in varying sizes. Chaps, vests, jackets, hoods, caps and harnesses lined the area. Shelves overflowed with cockrings, boots, gauntlets and collars.

"Take your pick, please," said Punk. "Hopefully, you should be able to find some gear you like in your sizes. If you need any help, let me know."

Quickly, the four searched through the treasure trove of gleaming black leather, selecting chaps, boots and harnesses for themselves. Falling into their preferred roles came easily and happily to them. Sabre opted for a half-hood, similar to that worn by Nightstick. Trojan settled a leather biker's style cap on his head, and both Masters slid cockrings around their pricks but nothing else. Sabre chose a full slave hood for his boy which completely encased Eagar's head right down to his neck, plus a form-fitting backless jockstrap to envelop the slave's genitalia. For Viking, his Master held out a half hood, but which attached to a dog collar around the neck, and a pouch which cradled the boy's nuts, but left his cock exposed. Their garb may not have been precisely what they would don at home, but it was close enough, and exciting enough, to keep them satisfied for tonight's activities.

Confirming they were all happy with their appearances, an eager Punk led them from the dressing room into the dungeon play space, through a heavy, sound-proofed door which thudded closed behind them.

Revealed to the curious foursome was an incredible space, designed for pure pleasure and the enjoyment of leathermen. It had obviously once been part of a warehouse, but the transformation to an area devoted to sexual gratification was complete. David had been in this room before, years ago, but he quickly realised that Punk had improved it considerably since then, probably with the help of Nightstick.

The room was not really a dungeon' at all. Playground' would be a better word. Measuring at least ten metres in width, and fifteen metres long, it was a massive area for a residential building. The floor was springy underfoot, and closer inspection revealed it to be a heavy duty black leather overlay. The walls were mirrors, all of them. So was the entire ceiling. Noah turned around to look at where they had entered, to find that the door itself had disappeared, the only suggestion it even existed being a recessed handle within part of the reflecting surface. The light was dim, but not dark. Massive black candles on tall metal stands stood at intervals around the walls, their flickering glow interspersed with wispy smoke trails, imparting a warm, welcoming atmosphere.

Toward one corner, but still with plenty of room around them, hung two full slings suspended by steel chain, the links of which disappeared through holes in the mirrored ceiling above. Each of them was complete with boot stirrups, and wrist restraints already in place on the chains holding up the `head' end. Slightly behind and to one side of both was a black platform, like a small table, covered in the same leather as the floor, and holding an array of toys -- dildoes, paddles, anal balls and other items. The slings were parallel with each other, close enough for those using one to easily watch what was happening in the other. Around both sides and the head of the sling closest to the far wall was a raised area, like a wide step.

Next to the pair of slings sat two slave bench arrangements. Padded with foam and covered in the ever-present dark hide, one looked remarkably similar to a carpenter's saw horse. Designed for a submissive to be laid onto it face down, the higher central section was a sturdy flat area to support the main torso, whilst the head and pelvis remained exposed and available. At one end padded flat pieces, like shelves, were affixed to the legs, allowing the slave to kneel in place. At the back of these were ankle straps to bind him, matched with handcuffs open and waiting, attached to the legs at the other end of the `horse'.

The second bench was wider and larger, sitting closest to the slings. It consisted of three flat padded surfaces; a centre section about waist height, and a step on either side around knee level, which was recessed in underneath the middle piece. It ran parallel to the wall, and as many as three slaves at once could be bent over it, secured in place, and exposed for their Masters' pleasure.

On the other side of the room were a series of platforms, all of them black leather. One looked for all the world like a huge bed, the width of three king size beds pushed together, complete with a headboard consisting of strong black steel bars, an array of restraints already in place and waiting to be attached to arms or legs.

Another bore a remarkable resemblance to a reclining lounge chair, except for its height. The seat was at least a metre above floor level. In the shape of a curved tick, the backrest leaned away whilst the seat was also angled so that someone seated upon it would be supported comfortably in a semi-lying position. But there were no armrests on this device. Instead, on either side of the saddle was a wide step whilst the central piece was relatively narrow. With one person sitting into the `tick' another could stand above him, straddling him easily.

A third raised area was the most curious of all. It was similar to the wide bench opposite, in that it consisted of a higher centre shelf, with steps on either side. But at one end the side steps were raised up to the same height as the centre, and mounted on this widened section was a steel framed chair with soft back, yet the stool itself had no solid seat. In place of the seat was a set of wide nylon straps.

"It's a rim seat," explained Punk to the confused look on the faces of his new friends. "A Master can sit on it in comfort while a slave lies underneath and gives him a good rimming. At the same time, the slave can either be getting fucked by another top who is standing at the end of the bench, or fucking someone who is straddling him and lowering themselves onto him!"

In several places between the fixed items of furniture', various stools were placed, apparently randomly, and halfway between the slings and the bed', four lengths of chain hung down from the mirrored ceiling, arranged in pairs, with wrist cuffs attached fairly highly, above normal head height. Corresponding to each pair of chains were more metal links embedded in the floor, and connected by leg spreaders -- solid rods of steel with ankle restraints at each end. All around the room were scattered small tables bearing toys, lube and amyl, so that all were within easy reach of ay of the equipment, and of those making use of it.

Nick whistled appreciatively. "This place is just amazing, Nightstick," he said.

"Thanks, Trojan," acknowledged the other Master. "Punk had a lot of it already set up. I just helped refine it with some of my own ideas."

"I like the way your imagination works," Sabre commented.

"Yeah? Well right now I'm imagining some hot fucking. And I don't intend to let my imagination waste away!" chuckled the large man. He took a couple of steps across to one of the tables and picked up a butt plug, covering it in lube as he did.

"Punk," he commanded. "Stop playing tour guide and get over here!"

"Yes, Sir," yelped the sub, jumping to obey. At Nightstick's direction he bent forward and spread his arse cheeks so that his Master could insert the stubby toy into him, then stood again and faced his man.

Nightstick said nothing, but crossed his arms on his chest and stood with legs spread. Punk obviously knew exactly what was expected of him, because he instantly dropped to his knees and began to lick at the polished leather of his Master's boots, his hands caressing the powerful legs encased in shining chaps.

Nick watched for a moment, his cock springing to life, and quickly moved beside Nightstick, taking up a similar stance. Without even looking at his boy, Nick clicked his fingers, and Noah hurried to crouch behind his man, knowing what Nick wanted from past experience. As soon as his Master was in place, Viking crouched behind him, licking eagerly at the firm rounded melons of Trojan's arse cheeks, his fingers playing up and down the Dom's inner thighs and through his legs to his nuts and cock, caressing and massaging through the tight leather. Nightstick's rear was so close, his low hanging balls so inviting, that the slave soon began to alternate between both men, licking, biting and squeezing at each of them. Similarly, Punk was swapping his tongue washing duties back and forward between his own Master and Viking's man, a hand on the powerful muscled legs of each as he did.

As Noah lowered himself behind the two dominant men, Master Sabre had stepped over the almost prone Punk, a heavy boot on either side of the slave. "Eagar," he ordered, "Work Punk's arse. I want to hear him moan while he services us!"

Eagar hissed out an urgent "Yes, Sir," as he knelt behind Punk, gripping the base of the butt plug in one hand, and wrapping his free fingers around the other slave's nuts. Very quickly, Punk's stifled groans could be heard as he slurped at the feet of Trojan and Nightstick.

Sabre now stood directly facing the other two Masters. Taking a long and admiring look at their bodies, he reached out with both hands, and began to pinch and play with their nipples, his own cock filling quickly and pressing hard against the leather codpiece he wore. The two men opposite him were dissimilar yet alike. Trojan was short and covered in dark fur where his skin was visible beneath the leather. His face set in a determined look of enjoyment beneath the leather bikers cap. Nightstick was a good 15 centimetres taller, the hood covering most of his visage although his square jaw jutted proudly over a muscled neck and chest, only lightly dusted with hair, obviously clippered. But both men emanated power; both embodied masculine sexuality. Trojan's groin bulged outward, the triangle of hide tented by his tumescence, and Nightstick's chrome encircled cock stood almost to full attention with the servicing by Punk and Viking, and the pulling at his nipples by Sabre.

Nick grunted as his body tingled to the ministrations from Viking's tongue and hands on his arse and groin, and the electricity generated in his chest by Sabre's fingers. He looked down at the head and shoulders of Punk gripping his ankles and licking at his boots. He felt so alive, and so forceful in this setting, and he loved it.

"I think I'd like to give this rimming seat of yours a try, Nightstick," he announced in a mutter as he looked behind himself at the raised steps.

"Be my guest," the other replied. "Pity though, because your boy is doing incredible things to my nuts."

Nick looked surprised. "So let him stay where he is and keep doing it. Eagar doesn't seem to be doing much -- he can service my arse."

"Hey guys, sorry," Nightstick said to both Nick and David. "I know when we play, we usually just share around without question, but I also know sometimes some guys like to keep control of their own slaves."

"That's no fun," Nick hissed. "What's the point of sharing if you can't have all of them, eh Sabre?"

His colleague murmured agreement. "That's right. Nightstick, as far as we are concerned, once we're playing, all of the slaves are ours to order as we please, no one boy belongs to any particular top. And there's no holds barred, as long as the other consents -- kissing, fucking, toys or whatever -- it's all good. Is that okay with you?"

"Absolutely, mate," the larger man accepted enthusiastically.

Nick grinned, at ease once more. He stepped away from the knot of men, and climbed onto the nearby platform, prodding at the chair on its perch to satisfy himself as to its strength. "Eagar!" he commanded, "Get your mouth over here, now."

"Yes, Master Trojan," the boy replied quickly, relinquishing his place at Punk's rear.

Trojan simply pointed at the flat area in front of the seat, and Eagar knew what was expected. He lay on his back, his head beneath the raised chair, his face only a few centimetres from the webbing itself. Once the sub was positioned, Master Trojan settled himself into the rim-seat. He was surprised to find how comfortable it was, the back support quite strong, and the nylon straps holding him easily while at the same time spreading his butt over Eagar's face. As he slid his legs forward, Nick gasped with delight. The feathery touch of the slave's tongue licked along his crack, and poked at the skin around his anus, sending shivers of pleasure through him. Leaning back further, the Master revelled in the sensations as the sub licked and prodded at his exposed arse. His hands fell to his groin, massaging his cock and nuts through their leathery cocoon, and his eyes feasted on the sight of the lithe, muscular body stretched out before him, writhing beneath him, its cock clearly outlined in its envelope of dark hide. He could take this for hours!

As Trojan moved up to the rimming platform, Sabre had stepped in closer to his fellow dom. He watched as Viking's hands squeezed and groped at Nightstick's rolling testicles, and heard the slurping wetness of the sub's nibbling and chewing on the Master's butt.

"Punk," he ordered, "My arse needs the sort of attention your friend is giving Master Nightstick. Now!"

The sub, who had until then been kneeling between Sabre's legs, instantly moved back, his hands reaching to run up and down the leathered pillars of Sabre's thighs whilst his tongue snaked its way into the valley of the Master's arse. Within seconds, a hand was finding its way around and over the dominant man's balls, and he trembled slightly with increased anticipation.

David faced his fellow Master directly now, admiring the view of the other top. The shorter of the two by only a centimetre, Sabre slid his hands sensuously in below the flaps of the leather vest the other wore, tracing the wide straps of Nightstick's harness. So close now that the Masters' cocks nudged against each other, the two men leaned together. Nightstick's arms went around Sabre's back, finding and pulling at the harness he wore, until their mouths met, and they kissed in a hungry, aroused exploration of each other's mouths, tasting of themselves with growing passion.

For a long while, the two Doms enjoyed each other's mouths while the subs paid attention to their genitals, licking and biting, nibbling and sucking at arses and testicles. All four were rock hard, pre-cum flowing from them and excitement growing constantly.

"Oh, fuck yeah," Sabre murmured as he broke his lip-lock with Nightstick and pulled back a bit, trying to cool off. He looked up to where his colleague sat on the ledge above them. "Hey, Trojan, you enjoying that man?"

Nick nodded. "Sure am, Sabre. You want some of this action?"

His mate grinned, stepping away from the small group where he stood. "You bet!"

As Trojan stood out of the rim-seat and clambered down, Sabre turned to the boy who had been servicing him. "Hey, Punk, get up there," he said evenly. "I want you to really eat my arse out."

The slave sat back on his haunches, then stood and swapped places with Eagar, whilst Sabre took Trojan's place on the raised seat. Lowering his spread cheeks onto the slurping, talented tongue of the sub, Sabre moaned in ecstasy at the moist muscle exploring his hole. As Punk stretched full length on the leathered shelf, his face beneath the Master's rear, Trojan moved to stand on the step just below where Punk's legs dropped over the edge. As the slave began to service Sabre's sphincter, Trojan lifted his legs high and pulled the butt plug slowly but steadily out of the boy's body. He smeared a little more lube over the sub's still open hole, unsnapped his cod and let his rampant erection spring into the open. He lined himself up and plunged his cock into the man, driving himself in to his full length.

Punk gasped at the initial assault, then groaned a long sigh of contentment and returned to his duties at Sabre's anus while his rectum closed tightly around the invading pole of Master Trojan's prong. With an enthusiasm born of the extended stimulation his hole had received, Nick began to fuck the slave with vigour, resting Punk's knees on his shoulders, and pistoning his now glistening dick in and out of the hot wet chute that was the slave's bowel. Nick noticed in his peripheral vision the quiet form of Joe, standing patiently after being dismissed from his rimming.

"Eagar," Nick hissed. "Don't just stand there boy, get up here now."

"Sir?" the slave asked uncertainly.

"Climb up here," Trojan repeated. "One leg on either side of Punk, facing Master Sabre, hurry up boy!"

Eagar quickly did as he was told, realising what the Dom wanted. Standing on the step to the side of where Punk lay, he lifted one leg carefully up and over until he stood above the prone body, straddling his fellow sub.

"That's better," Trojan muttered, slowing his thrusting into Punk's body as he leaned forward and slid two well greased fingers into the puckering hole between Eagar's legs. For a minute or more, the Master opened this second sub with his digits as he continued to, almost lazily, slide his cock in and out of the figure below. Determining that Eagar was ready now, he leaned back again.

"Okay, boys," he chuckled. "Eagar, sit yourself down on Punk's cock. I want him fucking your sweet hot arse while I fuck his. And while he's doing it, I want to see you leaning forward and paying some serious attention to Master Sabre's prick!"

Soon, the four of them settled into a groaning, heaving mass of leather and flesh, intertwined bodies and slurping, squelching sounds. At the top of the mountain of manflesh sat Sabre, his entire body alive as Punk's mouth nibbled at his cheeks, and the slave's tongue probed and prodded at his sphincter. At the same time, his thick prong was being bathed and suckled by Eagar, who's bucking frame leaned over his groin. Sabre rested his hands on the boy's head as it bobbed up and down on his cock, and let his eyes roam over the wide shoulders and strong back, to view the exciting picture of his colleague, Trojan, humping away at the unseen body of another slave beneath them both.

Nick tingled with the delight of fucking Punk's arse. With each pounding thrust into the wet sloppiness of the slave, he could see Punk's cock pushed up and into Eagar's body, so that it was as if Master Trojan was fucking both men at once. And the sight presented to him was incredibly erotic. With the soft leather of Punk's chaps resting against his torso, Trojan happily watched his own glistening log of manflesh spike into the pink target of the sub's rectum, each shove rewarded with the glorious sensation of squelching warm innards wrapping around his manhood. At the same time, the slave's nuts bounced around, and his long turgid prick speared up and into another clenching, winking hole between firm rounded white cheeks, framed in shining black hide. If Nick raised his eyes even further, he looked across the expansive back of the second sub, bound in the cross-straps of his harness, to where that boy's head nodded up and down on the length of Sabre's meat.

Eagar was in ecstasy as his body was humped and bounced around. With a long prick ploughing his arse, and another thick juicy piece of meat filling his throat, the slave ached with excited arousal. Being fucked at both ends was always a favourite position for him, and despite knowing that there were no `ownership' issues when they all played, Joe happily admitted that it was David's cock that he liked to worship with his mouth more than any other. So now, as Eagar, he eagerly attacked his Sabre's sabre as it fucked his face, while some anonymous, unseen body below him fucked his arse.

For Punk, there could be few better ways than this to start an evening. Rimming a Master was one of his most enjoyed activities. In fact, it had been at his suggestion that Nightstick and he had installed the seat and accompanying bench upon which he now lay. And they had designed it with the very position in mind in which Punk now found himself. With Sabre's muscular cheeks almost on his face, the slave enthusiastically licked and probed at the tight ring of the Master's sphincter with his tongue, shaking in time to the relentless and powerful ramming of another Dom behind him. His body was filled and fucked, his legs in the air and splayed over Master Trojan's torso. If that weren't enough, his long, steel hard prick was lodged within the gripping cavity of a fellow slave who sat astride him in a semi crouch, milking him with each involuntary withdrawal, before he was forced back in again by the thundering penetration of the Master. Unable to see much, his movement restricted, Punk's hands rested on the leather clad, muscular thighs of Eagar, and as he sucked and licked, fucked and was fucked, he allowed his hands and fingers to roam across the glorious hide, squeezing at the flexing musculature within it as he did.

Master Nightstick had watched with some interest as Sabre and Trojan arranged themselves on the rimming bench, and directed Eagar and Punk into position. He found the sight of the four of them settling into their rhythm extremely arousing, but his attention was then drawn back to the powerfully built slave who continued to play with his cock and balls, licking occasionally at his arse cheeks, and generally worshipping him. The boy was all but hairless, and Nightstick guessed that it was a natural smoothness. Although the head at his groin was hooded, the Master knew this slave to be the blond Viking, and his cock twitched yet again. From the first time he had seen this man, Nightstick knew he would enjoy playing with him; opening, using and filling that muscled, smooth body until it exploded in release.

"Boy!" he stated quietly but firmly.

"Yes, Sir?" Noah answered, quickly breaking from his attentions to look up expectantly into the glinting eyes within the slits of the Master's hood. He felt another twinge of excitement as he did. There was something about this man which really set Viking's pulse racing. Perhaps it was the leather accentuated strength in his powerful legs and broad shoulders, perhaps it was the leaking promise of his extra long, extra thick cock. But somehow, there was more -- an attitude about him; the set of his jaw, the masked gleam of his eyes. Noah knew he was going to enjoy this man, and he ached with anticipation at every word, every look.

"Over here!" Master Nightstick said in a soft voice, pointing to a place on the floor not far from where they already were. It was one of the spots where the chains hung from the ceiling, and more chains lay on the floor. "Stand here and face the others, legs spread."

Noah hurried to comply. As he took up the position Nightstick had ordered, he was looking directly at the humping, writhing group of men that fucked and sucked at each other upon the rim-seat platform, no more than a few metres away, and his cock jumped to full hardness at the sight.

Master Nightstick walked over to him, standing close. Very close. So close that Noah could feel the heat from his body, could smell the musk of his arousal and the aromatic scent of the leather he wore.

"So, Viking, you like the look of that action do you?"

"Yes, Sir," the sub whispered in response.

"I'll bet you do. You look like the kind of `boy' who enjoys some serious arse action," Nightstick ruminated menacingly, his hooded face against Viking's leathered head, eye slit to eye slit. The Master began to circle his new slave, running a fingernail up and down the sub's flesh from time to time, leaning hard into him and whispering in an evil tone.

"That arse will see some action, Viking, don't worry! But first, I'm gonna have myself some fun. You're my new toy, and I'm going to play with it for a bit!"

Noah wasn't in the least scared by the words or the tone. Nick was right there anyway, but more than that, he felt he could trust this man. The way he spoke, the threats he implied, were all part of the role playing, and if anything, they were making Noah even more excited than ever.

Nightstick moved around behind the slave, suddenly kicking at Noah's boots. "I told you to spread those legs, Viking!" he hissed.

"Ah, yes, Master Nightstick, Sir," the sub replied, pushing his feet further out. He felt movement at his ankles, and risked a downwards glance, to find the Dom fixing ankle restraints around each leg. The leather cuffs were attached to the ends of a solid steel bar, a `leg-spreader', so that Viking could no longer bring his feet together if he tried.

Upright again, the Master stood behind the slave, so close that Viking could feel the hardness of Nightstick's prick as it scraped between his thighs. Nightstick traced the lines of Viking's harness with his fingers, following it all the way to the boy's shoulders, before letting his hand trail along each of Noah's arms. When he reached the wrists, the Dom lifted his slave's arms, up to shoulder level, his wrists jangling against the hanging chains.

"Hold that position, Viking," Nightstick warned.

The slave obeyed, and expertly, the Master cuffed him in place. Viking was now effectively immobilised. Smiling at his handiwork, Nightstick stepped around the slave until he stood in front of him again, letting his eyes roam all over the sub's inert but strong body, drinking in the very pleasing sight of a powerful man subjugated to Nightstick's pleasure. His right hand reached out, the index finger scraping under Viking's jaw and lifting his chin to the Master's penetrating stare.

"Nice!" commented Nightstick.

His hand lowered, gently touching the line of Viking's throat, then further, across his chest, until the Dom closed thumb and forefinger over the shining chrome ring inserted through the sub's left nipple.

"Nice!" he repeated. With every touch, every breath of air that connected them, Noah trembled in anticipation. This Master was turning him on so much, and his cock, at full erection, shuddered in time with the beating of his heart, the first dribbles of pre-cum leaking from his slit and trailing downwards.

Nightstick saw the droplet of slimy juice form at the slave's cockhead. He watched it lengthen and separate, falling to the floor, and he smiled as another grew in it's place. Reaching forward, he scooped Viking's jizz onto his finger, and held it up before himself, then licked it teasingly. "Nice!" he said in a whisper.

Moving back behind Noah again, Nightstick grabbed the slave's rounded butt cheeks, squeezing them like fruit. "Very nice!" He slid a hand down along the curved edge of Viking's chaps, following the leather between the thighs until his fingers rode up against the black pouch of hide which encased the sub's balls. Closing his fingers around those rolling eggs in their leather envelope, he squeezed gently, massaging them.

"Now that feels good, Viking," he stated. Still playing with the boy's testicles, Nightstick slid a finger from his free hand along the crack of Noah's arse, slowly down to the ring of muscle which guarded the entrance to his body. Licking at his own finger, the Master pushed it through the sphincter, into the second knuckle, and rotated his digit around, pulling at the inside of Viking's anus. The slave gasped with pleasure and Nightstick grinned. "That feels good too, doesn't it boy?"

"Oh fuck yes, Sir," the sub breathed out. He couldn't see the man who was driving him wild with this teasing, but he could hear some movement behind him as the Master stepped back momentarily, grabbing something from a table beside him. When Nightstick came to him again, he held himself against Viking's trembling body, spooning his chest, abs and pelvis into the slave's back and butt.

"Fuck me, please Sir," Viking hissed over his shoulder. "I want that giant prick of yours pounding my hole, Master."

"You sure of that, Viking?"

"Yes, Sir, I'm sure."

"How should I fuck you then, boy," the Dom continued to tantalise his sub. "You want it nice and slow, all gentle; or do you want it hard and fast like a battering ram? Like things a bit rough, do you?"

Noah shuddered. He knew exactly what he wanted, and so did Nightstick. "I need it hard, sir. I need you to shoot that fucking prong right into me. Come on, Nightstick," Viking urged in a hiss. "Don't go getting all gentle -- this slave boy wants a pounding; a hard, powerful fucking. No please' or thank you', just fuck me hard, use me now, Master," he begged.

A very long, thick and slimy weapon slid between Viking's legs and nudged at his balls. He heard a long intake of breath, and then a bottle of amyl appeared beneath his nostril.

"You want some of this, my boy?" the Master asked.

Guessing what was about to happen, the sub nodded eagerly, and sniffed hard at the opened top of the small brown bottle. Nightstick carefully placed the amyl aside, and ground himself against the slave, running his hands up and over Viking's chest, squeezing at the slave's nipples as he passed, then curving his hands over the boy's shoulders. At the same time Viking could feel that huge log of manflesh slowly drawing back, raking over his balls and trailing past his perinaeum.

"And does that feel good?" Nightstick murmured. Noah nodded as the first wave of sensations began to flood him from the amyl.

"Then I'm sure you'll think this feels even better," Nightstick declared, whispering right in Viking's ear. Pulling hard with his strong arms, the Dom slammed his massive meaty cock deep into the sub's body in one motion, wrenching gasped cries from both of them.

His cockhead had been directly against the sub's winking hole, and the boy knew exactly what was coming. Noah did his best to relax himself, pushing back as he did, grateful for the amyl. The initial, searing pain of the sudden assault on his rear disappeared as fast as it had begun, as Viking felt his Master crash against him, the giant pole of flesh buried to the hilt.

"Fuuuck!" the slave yelled.

"Unhhh, yeah!" the Master echoed.

Locked together, neither moved as they adjusted to the sudden joinder.

A tiny voice of logic deep inside Noah's head told him he should have been split apart by that attack, but his body argued, his arse assuring him that not only was it intact, it was in paradise. He flexed his ravaged ring around the throbbing log inserted into him, and moaned softly.

"Are you okay, Viking?" a soft, almost tender voice asked in his ear.

"Oh yes, sir, fucking fantastic!" the sub whispered.

"You sure are -- fucking fantastic, that is! That felt so un-fucking-believable going in," Nightstick enthused. "I guess you weren't lying to me, boy. Here, have some more of this." He held the amyl once more under Viking's nostrils, and the bottom gratefully took two or three deep tokes at it, before Nightstick allowed himself another draught of the aroma.

As the amyl had its effect, the two men began to writhe together. Viking was unable to move much, his feet locked and spread, his arms chained in place, but he could certainly flex himself around Nightstick's cock, and wriggle back and forth within his restraints.

Nightstick's hands were all over the slave as his body shuddered with the wash of heightened sensation. He held himself in place, not pulling out at all, but gripped the boy tightly, holding him in a bear hug as he ground his pelvis against that pale arse, and explored the trembling body he now controlled, with his hands and fingers.

In answer to the attack, and the loss of control, Viking groaned again, pushing back against the Master, writhing in time with him, gripping and clenching his sphincter around the cock, and trying desperately to urge the dominant male who held him to use him further.

"Holy fuck, this is hot," Nightstick swore, bending forward and forcing his boy forward as well. Now he did start to withdraw, a little at a time, before driving himself harder into that welcoming bowel. The compliant, pleading motions of the boy he was fucking, combined with the clanking sound of the chains which bound his slave, the wafting scent of musky amyl, and the feeling of leather under his palms and on his skin, sent him into an ecstatic frenzy. All he could think was that he wanted to fuck this slave even more deeply, wanted to get more and more of himself inside Viking. And Viking seemed to want the same, slamming himself back at him, trying to take all that Nightstick could give and more.

For an incalculable time, the pair fucked each other urgently, with a passionate fervour. Their rutting, humping motion, held in place by steel and chains, drove them both higher and higher as they lost all cognisance of anything other than each other, and of becoming one in pure sex.

Before the surging, writhing couple, but unseen by them, the other four men gyrated in their animalistic union, sweating and swearing as they lifted each other to a peak. Trojan slammed himself over and over again into the gaping chasm of Punk's body, forcing the slave up and into the clenching hole of Eagar. In time with the rollicking fucking he received, Eagar slurped and swallowed at the mighty weapon of Master Sabre, getting his face and his arse fucked at once. Used and filled as he was, Eagar could not imagine anything more erotic, and it was the double penetration of his body that pushed him into climax before the others.

A grunting heaving gasp saw him lift his head away from the beloved prick of Sabre, as his entire body began to shudder, his sphincter clamping around Punk's pistoning prick. A long, scalding jet of jism leapt from his cock, splattering along the length of Punk's abdomen and up onto his chest, as well as spraying onto Sabre's balls. The man threw his head back in agonising ecstasy, wrapping his fist around his inflamed prick as Punk continued to pump into his ravaged hole.

The moment that Eagar lifted away from him, Sabre gripped at his own slicked, saliva coated weapon, pumping it hard. His sphincter opened as the slave below him probed into it with his tongue and his anus delighted in the ongoing rimming it received. The Master opened his eyes to be confronted by his boy in the throes of full climax, head and shoulders back, chiselled pecs pushed forward and straining beneath the glistening straps of his harness. Yet another surge of excitement filled Sabre as he drank in the sight of Eagar's sweat-sheened body, trembling and taut, every muscle flexed and tight, the leather of his gleaming chaps struggling to contain his bulging thighs. And at the centre of this vision was Eagar's very masculinity, clasped in his hand, a firebrand of absolute erection about to explode. Spellbound, Sabre stared as the same sub who serviced his own arse speared up into Eagar's body, and when the first white hot gobs of ejaculate erupted from his mate and fell against his balls, the Master gasped, pumping himself into ecstasy.

As Eagar spasmed repeatedly, spewing more and more of his essence over Punk, Sabre joined him. Bellowing with release, the top pumped his cock into his hand with powerful strokes, his body tensed as his nuts drew up, and his orgasm ripped through him. A torrent of creamy cum spurted from his shuddering tool, coating Eagar's chest and body and flowing down onto the still humping frame of Punk where he lay beneath the gasping couple. It took several minutes, but eventually Sabre's quaking subsided, and he slowly eased himself up from the rim seat, standing over the still locked bodies of Punk and Eagar. His boy was all but collapsed, yet still shuddering in time with the thumping penetration of the other sub, driven in turn by Master Trojan's cock.

Nick slowed his fucking of the boy as Sabre took Eagar's arms and lifted him away from the slave below. The two of them stepped down to stand beside the prone figure, and Trojan dragged Punk's tensed and trembling body out from under the seat, exposing his face. With renewed lust he slammed himself back into the hot, welcoming cavern of Punk's arse, while Sabre and Eagar now set about playing with him, running their hands over his gooey, jizz covered body, pinching at his nipples, and squeezing his rolling nuts and slimy prick. The combined attention from the Master and slave to his frame, and the glorious pounding of his chute, was too much for Punk, and with a strangled cry, he surrendered himself to oblivion. His stomach tensed, his sphincter clamped tight around Trojan's invading prong, and his prick swelled with racing blood before fountaining his essence up and out, across his own body in a dozen shuddering gushers until it fell back upon him to pool with the outpourings of Sabre and Eagar in a soup of slimy manjuice.

As Punk slowly stilled, his need spent, Trojan pulled back, withdrawing his probing javelin from its squelching receptacle.

"Are you okay, Punk?" he asked with concern.

"Oh, fuck, yes, Master Trojan," the slave replied weakly. He started to sit upright, and the others began to assist his efforts as their attention was drawn to the gasping, cursing pair behind them.

Turning to watch, Nick, David, Joe and Peter found themselves charged up again at the sight of Viking and Nightstick locked in embrace; the Master humping his thick, slickened meat in and out of the sub's body, whilst the slave hissed obscenities back at his ravager; begging for more, needing to be fucked deeper and harder than ever. Nightstick's arms encased Viking's chest and shoulders as he pulled the slave back onto his rod with force, and the sound of squealing leather filled the air as the two of them gasped and heaved in unison.

Temporarily spent, Sabre, Punk and Eagar settled themselves on the floor in front of the rutting couple. But Master Trojan, still sporting a rampant erection, cursed excitedly. "Fucking hell, Nightstick, that's hot! Fuck his slave boy arse, man!"

Nightstick looked up, his eyes partially glazed from the concentration he focussed on burying himself into Viking's glorious innards. He spotted his fellow Master, standing there in full glory, his proud erection glistening with the remnants of Punk's bodily juices.

"Shit, Trojan," he hissed. "This boy of yours is really driving me wild! You wanna share him?"

Nick smirked menacingly. "Oh yeah," he answered.

Still fucking hard at Noah, Nightstick released his wrists, and lowered him to the cushioned floor, until the sub was on his hands and knees, his legs still kept apart by the spreader. As Nightstick now crouched over his back, gripping at his hips and roaring with delight as he speared his cock into the boy, Trojan also crouched before the slave's head, driving his slicked and throbbing tool into Viking's throat. With a chorused groan, the two Masters fell into time as they fucked Viking from both ends, powering their way into his body with forceful strokes which steadily increased in speed. Positioned as they were, Trojan and Nightstick found their faces lowering toward each other, and as they each approached their zenith, the Masters met above the slave's back in a passionate, urgent kiss. Locked at the mouth, the two tops spit-roasted their shared toy with vigour. This connection proved the final impetus for them both, and as one they grunted, slammed deep into the tensed body beneath them, and spasmed their way through orgasm.

Viking, his entire being lost in the moment, felt his ravaged chute being filled with the fruit of Nightstick's loins, while he gulped and swallowed repeatedly, trying to accept the pumping, viscous outpouring of Master Trojan into his gullet. With their hands on his body, their cocks inside him, and their climax drowning both his orifices, Viking shook with delighted surrender. He loved the sense of having no control over himself, and the loss of control was complete when his balls also surrendered, sending a river of cum up and out through his steeled prick, jetting his jism across the floor where he knelt.

A long interval later, the pair of tops who had fucked Viking so powerfully finally eased themselves out of his ravaged body. Released from their thrall, Noah collapsed, rolling onto one side. Nightstick had the presence of mind to unsnap his ankle cuffs, and now able to relax, the slave leaned across the leg of his partner as Nightstick sidled over to where Punk lay.

Sabre, Eagar and Punk all murmured appreciative whispers of approval and admiration at the performance of the others, each of them still partially erect after witnessing the explosive crescendo.

"Now that is the way to relieve some tension!" Nick declared with a sigh as his breathing began to return to normal.

"Fuck yeah," agreed Nightstick with a grin. "I've needed that for days. Thanks guys."

"Thank you," David interjected. "We're a long way from home, so it's so great for us that you've let us share yours, and your boy!" he chuckled.

"You two have a couple of very talented subs as well," the other man praised.

"Thank you, sir," responded Eagar.

Noah sat up and ran a long, appreciative look over Nightstick's body yet again. "Always happy to be of service, Sir," he said easily.

"Shit, I could use a drink after that," came a groaned plea from the exhausted Punk, still lying flat on the floor, his body spattered with the remnants of at least three ejaculations. He began to struggle to get up, but his Master put a hand on his arm gently.

"Stay there," he said. "You need to recover. I'll get `em. Beers all round?"

"Yes, please," chorused the others.

"Make mine a lite," Sabre called after him. "I'm driving."

They were all enjoying the post coital haze of sated passion, unable or unwilling to move from their positions of collapse on the soft leathered mat, and this fabulous room seemed the perfect place to do so. No need to change or clean up at all, just enjoy the sensations.

Nightstick returned juggling six bottles of beer, handing them out to his companions with a grin as he enjoyed the sight of five leathered and cum splattered men entangled on the floor of their dungeon. Just remembering the activities of the last hours was enough for his cock to begin to fill with blood again, and he marvelled at just how horny these men made him feel.

"Hey, I've got the lite -- you wanted that didn't you, Sabre?" said Viking.

"Yeah, thanks," answered the Master.

Nightstick, still on his feet, apologised. "My mistake guys, just a bit distracted." He took the two bottles, exchanging them. "Here's your lite, David," he said, "and a full strength for Noah."

It took a few seconds to register, but suddenly there was confusion and a sense of alarm in Noah's gut.

"How do you know my name?" he said quietly but urgently.

Nick sat up quickly, defensively. "Yeah, how do you -- nobody introduced us using real names. What's going on?"

The other Master had just settled onto the floor, relaxing with his beer. "Calm down guys," he said evenly. "I was waiting until now to give you a little surprise, just didn't mean to let it slip like that."

"What kind of surprise?" asked Nick suspiciously.

"This better be good," David warned, looking alternately from Nightstick to Punk and back. "I can understand how you know my name. No doubt Peter -- he emphasised Punk's real name -- would have told you that. But he doesn't know the others!"

"He didn't even tell me yours," Nightstick replied slowly. "And I don't know your real name, Eagar," he said, nodding to Joe. "But I guess this might explain things ..."

Slowly he reached up and loosened the ties of his hood, pulling it apart from the back and lifting it away from his face. As his complete visage was revealed, he smiled widely at the gasps of surprise from Nick, Noah and David.

"The cop?" whispered David.

"Detective Moran!" declared Nick.

"Bob," Noah laughed.

"Who the fuck ...?" asked a curious and bewildered Joe.

Peter simply sat there with a smile, watching from one to the other.

"This is the detective investigating Wes' death," David explained. "Joe, meet Bob Moran!"

Bob Moran smiled again. "When Peter told me an old friend from out of town wanted to join us for a session, I figured it was perfect timing -- we were looking for exactly that, and I have been pretty tired with the murder investigation, so getting all of that out of my mind was something I desperately needed. Then he said his friend's name was David, and that he was down from Sydney helping other friends from Sydney organise a funeral after someone had been killed down on the Mornington Peninsula. It was too much of a coincidence -- I knew it had to be you guys. I almost had Pete call you back to cancel."

He stopped for a minute, seeming to wonder about whether to go on. When he did continue, his cheeks reddened a little. "But I really needed this, and I remembered the three fucking hot men I had met. None of you are under any suspicion in the case, so there's no reason why we can't - `socialise' -- so I told Peter what I suspected, and went for a hood so I wouldn't be recognised. I hope you guys aren't mad?"

"Mad? I think it's amazing," Joe said. "I just can't believe none of them picked you."

"Hey, be fair," David jumped in. "He was wearing civvies, and we didn't speak that much anyway. Although I did notice he had a nice arse!" All of them laughed now.

Nick chuckled evilly. "Noah was quite taken with Detective Moran," he commented.

"Don't start that again," Noah sighed. "But I was right, wasn't I? He is fucking hot."

"Thanks guys," Bob laughed again as they lay back and sipped their drinks in new friendship.

Some time later, and despite the six of them having been happily enjoying each other's companionship, nothing more had been said about Wes' murder. It was almost an unspoken acknowledgement from all of them that they needed this night to try to forget that unpleasant reality for a few hours. Peter brought it up again almost inadvertently.

"So how long are you in town for?" he asked innocently.

Nick grumbled, and David coughed. Noah sighed as he answered. "At least until after the funeral on Tuesday," he said. "We're not sure how much longer we'll stay on from there."

"Joe and I will be flying home Wednesday morning," David said. "We both need to get back to work."

"How about you guys?" Bob said, looking to Nick and Noah.

"We don't have to go home for work," Nick stated flatly.

"But what reason could we have for staying here?" Noah said suspiciously.

"Well, there's still a murder to solve," Nick hissed.

"Hey guys, that's my job!"

"Sure, but there's no harm in us hanging around and asking questions," Nick replied defensively. "Besides, people often tell things to strangers they would never say to a cop." He stopped and looked at Noah, who shrugged resignedly, and offered a slight smile, guessing what Nick was up to.

Noah let his eyes wander over Bob Moran's body again. "Besides," he said, supporting his man, "It's our `civic duty' to help out however we can. You know we'll tell you anything we learn, keep you fully informed."

The cop still looked doubtful. "Guys, it's not that I don't want you around -- far from it," he grinned evilly. "But this is serious, it's not a game. You could be in real danger."

"Like Noah said, we'll keep you completely up to date with everything we see and hear," Nick offered again.

"Of course, if you feel the need, you can always order us to come in for further `interrogation'," Noah whispered huskily, a grin splitting his face as he licked his lips.

"Oh shit," Bob laughed. "That's what I call an offer I can't refuse. Okay, but please guys, be bloody careful!"

"Yes, Sir," drawled Noah slowly. "Anything you say, Master Nightstick!"

"You four don't really have to go back tonight, do you?" asked Peter plaintively, his cock lengthening as he trailed a single finger along Nick's leg and over the Master's growing tumescence.

Nick looked around the room, and drank in the lusty arousal of growing urges. "Sabre, I think we're in for some more fun!"

David laughed low and deep. "I'm sure there's no need to race off. It might be considered impolite!"

... to be continued...

This story is a fantasy, it is not real and only happened in my imagination. YOU MUST REMEMBER that in the real world, you can DIE from having unsafe sex. It is your right and your duty to make sure that condoms are always used, whether you are giving or receiving. It doesn't matter how good looking or how ugly he is, and it doesn't matter whether you are top or bottom, USE A CONDOM!