The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblances to real people, alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons, of continents or islands, in countries, counties, cities, towns, villages, neighborhoods, streets, cul-de-sacs, nor governmental or non-governmental areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then why are you here? Seriously, if guy-to-guy sex stuff makes you barf or is going to screw up your mind, you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most states and countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by law. Check with your local laws regarding such.
% Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection.
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ChANGe WiTH ThE TiMEs 03 WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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"I have to say guys," Rick, fitting his boots back onto his feet, after pulling back on his briefs, pants and socks, "that was most intense."
"Bruce sure did a job on those nips," Shea remarks.
"Me, Shea? You did a good job pulverizing yourself with those ape-hands!" Stopping with the laces, looking down at his shirtless chest, seeing his swollen nips, pointy, poking out well above his chest hair, "I can forget community showering for a week!" Rick laughs about his predicament, totally contrary to feeling the crocs dig in two hours ago!
"At least," Bruce adds suggestion.
Nonchalantly, as he feeds his arms back into his uniform, Rick says, "You both did good. I might even like to get into some more nip torture."
Walking over to Rick, Shea fondling his balls, "I'd like to work up these balls on a regular basis. When do you have some free time?" Of course he didn't mention the tight fuck!
With little inhibition, Rick says, "I happen to have several blocks of time available this weekend, if it's not too soon?"
"I've got some landscaping to do Saturday morning. Other than that, the torture chamber is `open for business'!"
Bruce butts in, "Um, I can't host Saturday afternoon."
"What do you mean you can't host Saturday afternoon, Bruce?" Shea, all revved up, gets disappointed.
"Two local boys, they're like family to me, I promised them they could `fool around'," Bruce replies with a snicker.
"Is that that `Tom and Jerry' couple? I don't mind them doing their thing while we do our business... and, if they want to join in?" Shea says with cunning.
"They're `Mark and Steve' and I only told you because..."
Shea smiles, saying with bliss in mind, "Yeah, I love interrogating you for information, Bruce. You're `so' unwilling!" He laughs.
"I told you they want to be discreet," Bruce tries again to sway Shea away from the dungeon. "I hope you didn't go and tell anyone?"
"What?" Shea replies, as if surprised, "And get my dungeon privileges revoked?"
Shea would prefer the shop dungeon, but not wanting to disappoint mostly himself, the churning he's feeling, regardless of spending three loads to complete the fantasy session with Rick, "I suppose you could meet me at the shed where I keep my landscaping equipment, Rick?"
On being a cop, Rick says, "I need to be discreet too, remember?"
Rick's story, his meeting up with his first encounter with kinky stuff, outside the perimeters of gay sex, came about through a routine traffic sting. It was more or less a set up, nobody wanting responsibility for catching speeders in high end vehicles, Rick's captain knew sped along the straight road, little traveled, except by residents in the high end area of town. Sitting behind some bushes on County Rd. 69, Rick, with eight months on the force, chased a yellow BMW convertible a hundred feet, pulling it over.
Walking up to the top-down vehicle, Rick was surprised, the driver out of his car, which was unusual he thought.
"What tha fuck you doing?" the driver asks and before Rick could answer, "I've got an important meeting in twenty minutes and if I'm late," he pokes a finger into Rick's chest, "it's going to be your fuckin' fault!"
"Sir," Rick states in a manly manner, "would you kindly refrain from assaulting me with your finger? You were speeding and I'm going to issue you a summons," he starts to write.
Quit the assaulting? The driver steals Rick's pad right out from under his writing utensil, "How much do you want?"
Rick didn't know what to think, the suit turning around, reaching into his car for something, bent over the door at the waist. His first reaction, because he had already viewed the driver from the front, early 30's, black hair, not much else facial-wise, wearing shades, but from the contoured shirt and suit, looked to be in excellent shape, Rick couldn't help but wet his lips at the last detail, the tight ass, shaped from the pull on the suit pants.
When the dude turns around, confronting Rick with a stare, because his shades had fallen off, a wallet in hand, "How much do you want?"
Rick stood there as if confused. On `ass' alone, he was ready to issue a warning, forgetting the summons. Then he made the royal mistake of stuttering, coupled with eyes dropping to waist level and back.
Seeing the `signal', the dude holds fast to his wallet, but drops Rick's pad, saying, "Oops!"
Rick stood there, staring at the driver, wetting his lips once, his tongue remaining in the corner of his mouth.
If the driver had to be to a meeting in less than twenty minutes, he was sure taking his time. Yet, this would not be the first time he was ever stopped for speeding. It was the reason he could scope out a cop in seconds, not the first who has `signaled' a certain something. "Pick it up!"
"Wha?" Rick questions, but then caves in, "Uh, sure," bending over.
"On your knees!"
Rick wasn't sure about this. As he has only been on the force for eight months, new to the territory, he's not so sure how it would look for him, someone passing by, seeing a cop on his knees, picking up his summons pad.
"Uh, I can just bend down and," he bends over, scooping it up.
He was making a big gamble, but sure of himself, saying to Rick, "I should horsewhip you for that."
Thinking he should end this here and now with a warning, Rick caves in to the notion, "Horsewhip?"
Smiling, the driver reaches into his car, retrieves his cell, pushes a button and when he gets a response, talks into it, "Raphael, this is Antonio. I've got a flat. I'll either be late to the meeting or not show at all. Go on without me," he ends the call.
Standing there, Rick says, "I thought you had an important meeting you couldn't miss?"
Totally ignoring Rick's concern, or lack of concern, whatever the case may be, Antonio places a hand on Rick's shoulder, saying, "Nice material."
Like when getting poked in the chest, it had gone beyond the approach a policeman makes when issuing a speeding ticket. For Rick, he was feeling something entirely different, far from the responsibilities of serving justice, a new kind of justice. "Thank you," and because, at age 35, had already had experience, "sir." He waited.
Looking up the road, down to the south, Antonio says, "A man has got to be careful on a lonely, country road."
With lightning precision, Antonio places his other hand on Rick's other shoulder, bends a little and forces his speeding knee into Rick's balls.
"Ughh-h-h-h-h-h! Oh shit!" he caves in, falling onto his knees.
Again, Antonio cases the country road. Bending down, he reaches under Rick's chin, grabs at shirt, at chest level, hauls him up and plants his fist into Rick's abs.
Rick worked out at a gym. He had sixpack abs, maybe more. He's in peak physical condition, yet he is first driven to his knees, then pulled up to his feet, only to return to his knees after a hefty tuck at the gut.
Opening his wallet, taking a card out, Antonio flings a business card onto the ground, saying, "Call me at five. A minute after and I'm adding fifty lashes to your punishment."
With that, Rick is left in the vehicle's dust. Picking up the card, Rick reads, Ferrucci-Fiero-Ferrari', leaving off the word, Group'. He looked up at the car, tearing up the road in the distance, as he stood. He put the card in the safest place, his wallet.
Standing there, thinking of what just happened, Rick had an uneasy feeling, wondering if he behaved in risky manner, being a cop and new on the job. Then again, according to his demeanor, not feeling nervous about it, he smiled. Walking back to his patrol car, he still wore the smile, a result of the tingling sensation felt in his balls, a hand to his crotch to confirm he was having a sexual response.
He went for the handle on his car, but then spotted the bushy area at the side of the road, one of many which corralled in the forest. As his mystery driver, which singled out the one he just met, at the bottom of the card, Antonio Fiero, he cased oncoming traffic from both ends of the road. Seeing none, proceeds to launch himself towards the other side of the car. Hurriedly, he opening his belt buckle, unzipped, took out his junk and stroked.
Thinking he was going to spend a quiet evening drinking a beer, watching a dvd of some guys in a dungeon, torturing and enough sexual activity to get off more than once, Rick wound up, after his 5:02 phone call, wanting to reap all the `benefits', both for himself and his mysterious man, he wound up on the doorstep of quite the modern home, ringing a bell.
"Come in," he held the door for Rick.
Things were casual, Rick saying, "Thanks."
However, far from the norm, welcoming a guest, when Rick turned around, Antonio's fist was waiting.
Rick hadn't noticed Antonio's pants unzipped, open, when he came in, but facing him now, holding his abs and on his knees, he looked up just in time to see Antonio unveil his cock and balls.
"You liked that boy, didn't you?"
Even if Rick didn't enjoy feeling Antonio's hard fist greet his stomach, he knew the improper response would be `no', saying, "Yes... um, sir."
Grabbing Rick's head, Antonio dictates, "Get on my cock, bitch!"
Rick almost choked, the hard shaft going right to the back of his mouth. Pulling Rick off, then shoving back in, he noticed the black, riveted band around the base of Antonio's cock. He was all primed and ready.
With gyrating hips, Antonio's pants fell to his ankles. "Yeah, that's it, cocksucker!" he says to Rick, mellowing out some, wallowing in the fact his intuition was 100% correct.
Allowing Rick's lips to float down to the tip of his cock, Antonio's hand to the back of his head would force it back in, until his hand grabs at Rick's hair, pulling him off, saying, "Not bad, boy."
Without the suit, Rick thought Antonio to be older, but in the jeans and tee shirt, he looked right around his age.
"Follow me," Antonio hiked up his pants, not bothering to dislodge his balls anchored by his briefs.
Rick looked around, but wasn't sure he should speak, even though he wanted to say something about the art work, sculptures or details about the modern home. Entering an office, he's given a chair in front of a modern desk, blond wood, with a slate top.
"Sit," Antonio says, removing a piece of paper from a side draw.
"Thanks," Rick replies.
"Here, take a look at this."
As Rick is looking the page over, Antonio is scoping out Rick, happy that he took the suggestion, after their phone call, of wearing his full uniform, though the cap is missing. `No matter', he thinks, adding it to what will become a list of infractions, typical of raw recruits.
"So, what is this," Rick refers to the sheet, "cbt, tt..."
Producing a pen, Antonio says, "You can either check off individual things you want me to work with, or you can drop down to the bottom of the sheet and check `all of the above'."
"Can I take a minute to read it?" Rick asks.
Getting up, Antonio says, "Take your time. We've got all weekend," which wasn't mentioned during their preliminary phone call, "I did mention I'm keeping you here all weekend?" he tested.
At times, when he's met with guys for one or two hours, he's felt both easy and scared shit, and it being quite a few times over the past two years, finally realizing what he likes, Rick has developed a pretty good sense of what is safe and unsafe, like a gut feeling, almost as much as liking a strong gut punch. In response to Antonio, delivering with a smile, to show he's looking forward to their time together, "I had a three day weekend coming. I have to be back to work Tuesday afternoon."
Pouring a couple of drinks at the bar, Antonio picks up the phone and in seconds is telling someone on the other end, "I've had something come up, Victor, cancel all of my appointments for Monday."
Rick was wowed by the action, like the guy was really in control of everything, speaking with authority, like guys would have to snap to it or be.... horsewhipped? Strangely, in this foreign place, with a guy he stopped on a country road and was talked out of a ticket, unethically, to say the least, he was placing a lot of trust in hand. Right now, he was feeling giddy at his thoughts.
"Right Victor, and oh," Antonio turned, faced Rick, looked at him, then returned to his call, "if you're not busy later on, Victor, why don't you stop by. I have somebody I want you to meet."
From feeling good, to depression, Rick's demeanor took a nose dive, him voicing opinion, "But I thought I made it clear. I wanted to be discreet?"
Walking over to Rick, like he didn't have a care in the world, he hands him a JD on the rocks, "You don't think it's me who is going to keep your cock entertained?"
Rick didn't get it, showing it.
Antonio, returning to his chair behind his desk, informs, "Victor is my brother's son. He's 21 years old and pursuing a degree in criminology. Here's what will happen. Victor and I will be tormenting you tonight. Sometime tonight I will leave. Not leave the house. Showering," saying for Rick's benefit, "recuperating from all the physical labor of working you over. While I'm gone, you will convince Victor to unfasten your bondage, wherever in the dungeon I may have you contained. Then you will overpower Victor and place him in bondage. You will put on your police uniform and then interrogate him."
On the tip of Rick's tongue is, "Interrogate him? But I..."
"I know. I sensed it back on the road. You were meant to serve, however it is also Victor's greatest fantasy, to be interrogated by a man of the law. Whether you do or do not wish, you will do it. You will do it for Victor and you will do it as a courtesy to me."
Rick still had considerable question.
It showing, Antonio says, "You give me what I want and I will give you what you want. For me, I need someone whom I can trust to play with Victor." He then went on to explain how Victor played with a rough top and almost got himself in too deep. Antonio rectified the situation himself, but it cost him a small fortune. "Though, money is not the issue here."
Rick wasn't sure, still not agreeing to anything.
"I know you are concerned with being discreet. At all times after, I bow out, it will only be you and Victor."
"What about Victor?"
"He will do what I tell him to do. If I tell him he is not to mention anything about what you two do in private, he will not, because if he does... well, he will not."
For whatever reason, Rick felt Antonio to be friendly, but also if you did something against him, he had his own `laws' about rebuttal.
"And, this is totally aside from why you came to see me today. Whether you `play' with Victor or not, we will have our bdsm session this weekend. If you decide against Victor, then it will be a longer session for you."
"Sounds fair enough," Rick replies. Curious, "Just what is it Victor is into?"
"As soon as you are filling out your inquiry sheet, I will give you another blank. You will have time to have Victor fill it out. I caution you, as well as Victor about one item."
Rick looks down the sheet.
"At the bottom. Limits. Be careful. If you state `no limits', keep it in mind I can get brutal."
Rick gulped.
Antonio smiles, saying, "But don't worry. Our first time together, perhaps second or third time, you will have some say in how far I go. But in future sessions, if you like what you came here for, if I decide on two hundred lashes across the back, I will not hold back and you will have to endure to the end."
`No limits' were on some of the dvd's he watched, but none of them ever lasted to the end. Instead they cut to some guy getting whacked in the ass, till the paddle turned his skin red, then the top-dude stinging the crevice with his fuck tool.
"I'll keep that in mind." However, instead of himself, Victor was more of a concern, him saying, "I never thought of topping a guy."
The 32yo, seeing Rick's concern, says, "It's nothing at all. Think of it this way, everything I do to you, you pass on to Victor. It's that simple." He waited a minute, seeing Rick unchanged, "Tell you what? How about instead of leaving, I hang out awhile?"
"That would be cool."
However, Antonio's cock pressing him to get on with it, "Are you done filling out the paper?"
"Almost," Rick replies, his pen point drifting between boxes, one signifying no limits', the other, safeword'.
As for Antonio, it would not matter. His roadside proof, Rick taking some nice torture, paved the way for some future get togethers. Even though he saw Rick check off `safeword', it didn't phase him. As it goes anyway, he would try to push Rick's limits, something he knew both would like.
"Good. Shall we get started?" Antonio asks, after taking the paper back and putting it in a file along with his other `playmates'.
"Sure," Rick says, following suit, standing because Antonio did so.
And as Antonio, clinks the remainder of their drinks, Antonio saying, "To a long relationship!"
"To us!" Rick replies.
After meeting Antonio on the road, he wasn't just taken in by the knee to his balls or the punch to his pack, but the Italian, taking the sunglasses off, found the hidden looks to be quite handsome, the dark hair, very closely cropped beard, looking like `a shave' had grown in by late afternoon.
Walking out of the room, across the hall and then opening another door, Rick carries on small talk, "What about sex?"
All it took was a short scan of Rick's information sheet, Antonio picking out, "You checked fucking and sucking."
"I guess that answers my question."
"Right," Antonio replies, flicking a switch, which illuminates the stairway, "but don't hold your breath, because it might not be on the first date!"
Date', it stuck in Rick's mind. Even though this did not constitute going out to see a movie or dining at a restaurant, he was excited about him and Antonio together. Cool', too he thought, them being so alike in not only main interest, but age likewise.
"Ready for the tour?" Antonio says, pressing four codes into the lock, the door opening automatically.
"Sophisticated!"
"Yeah, well, I don't want anyway in here who doesn't belong in here. There's only two people in this world who have the code to this door, me and Victor."
Rick notes, "You put a lot of trust in a twenty-one year old?"
"Different than the others," Antonio walks through, turning on another set of lights, which can be seen in the distance, lighting up other sections of the dungeon basement.
Distracting him, Rick planes a hand over a black-padded table, "Looks comfortable."
Antonio laughs, "Not if I can help it!"
"Oh yeah," Rick, even though the hour of doom, jokes, "I forgot, Mr. de Sade!"
It was the one thing disturbing to Antonio. Sure, back on the road Rick was just another guy, but driving onward, all the way to the office for his meeting, he smiled thinking of the slender face, high cheek bones and from the way the uniform clung to Rick's bod, the profile show as a guy who visited the gym regularly. The sucker punch to the abs also show something, not to mention the `kneecap injury' between the legs.
"Whenever we're playing down here in the dungeon, you will call me Master Antonio."
He didn't know whether Rick actually heard him, the cop venturing off to view a grill, several implements hanging from it, Rick saying, "Nice floggers and whips and things," a hand felt up the multi-fronds of a leather flogger.
"Good," Antonio says, swiping by Rick, picking out the flogger he just touched, "I'll start by warming you up with the flogger you picked out."
"Oh, I get it. Whatever I pick out you're going to use on me?" Rick says, still with a tinge of humor.
"Interesting," Antonio replies, liking the idea. "Shall we head on over to the cock and ball torture cupboard?"
As Antonio does, Rick asks, "You're not going to torture me in my uniform, are you?"
"Good point. Strip!"
Antonio loved this response, "Only if you watch!"
"Sly one. Yeah okay, get on with it." He stands and watches.
Starting to unbutton his shirt, from top to bottom, Rick asks, "And when do I get to see `your' luscious bod?"
This surely was different, not that Antonio didn't like Rick's entertaining thoughts, his orders of suggestion, "Okay. You win."
It was easy for Antonio to strip his shirt off overhead, Rick having only parted his down the middle, having to say about the hairy chest and stripe in front of him, "Beautiful!"
Tossing his shirt on one of the several bondage tables, Antonio lifts his arms, parking his hands behind his head, flaunting his dark-haired pits, saying, "For your benefit I didn't shower this morning."
But first things first, according to Rick. Fairness was fair, removing his shirt, pulling it out of his pants, undoing the last button and stripping it.
Antonio's eyes darted right past the chest fur, instead following the thin dark trail to the abs, "Oh fuck am I gonna have fun turning those abs to mush," the back of his hand grazed the trail from mid-chest, down to bellyhole and back up.
"I'm looking forward to it. I used to have a guy at the gym. We traded off gut punches, but I'm sure it's nowhere as near the damage you can do?"
Another point for Rick, another churn of Antonio's balls!
"Oh, here," he pulls the police baton from his belt, "nothing more humiliating than getting bashed in the gut with my own equipment?"
Taking it, placing the tip up to Rick's stomach, giving a little push in, Antonio says, "I like it."
Smiling, like they were in an intimate relationship, Rick replies, "I'm sure I'll like it too, especially delivered by your hand." He smiled.
Antonio replies, "Y'know, I might just break my rule and fuck on the first date?"
He then picked up his shirt, Rick snatching his up and they walked through the dungeon, stopping for discussion at the cupboard which held the cock and ball torture equipment.
%
It was awkward, to say the least, Bruce ringing the doorbell and as he's done in the past, walks right in, announcing himself, "I hope everyone's decent - not!"
"Only us straight guys," Matt replies. Even so, he doesn't find harm in greeting Bruce with a hug, a returned kiss on the cheek.
"Oh here," Bruce whips out a bouquet of flowers from behind his back, a bottle of wine in his other hand.
"Trying to sweeten me up with flowers, Bruce?"
"Yeah, but if that didn't work, I thought getting you drunk might help?" he presents the bottle.
They both knew what partially this whole mess was about, confessed earlier, `the dad' being the last to know.
"In that case, how come you didn't bring two?"
Entering the kitchen, Bruce smells the aroma, "Mm-m-m, smells like you've been cookin' up a storm, Matt!"
However, up from the basement comes Steve and Mark, and instead of Matt tending to the pots on the stove, "I think the spaghetti should be done," Mark takes a strand out to taste.
If things weren't touchy as they are now, Bruce might have joked about the way an excited man, under pressure could leak out a sinewy strand of `spaghetti-like' goo. However, passes it up for, "And what do you have there, Steve?"
"Chicken parmagiana?" he pulls from the oven.
Matt says, "I was in the process of making lasagna, but crossed the line over to failure."
"Don't worry about it, Matt." Not one to hand out compliments, Bruce says, "As I remember you were never one to entice too many people with your cooking!"
Steve follows with, "Low blow, Bruce!"
"How do you mean that Steve?"
Matt could tolerate gay remarks like that, even a straight guy not minding it, but it only served to stir up Matt's thoughts, "By the way Bruce, exactly when did the boys come out to you?"
"Oh my god, Matt. I came here for dinner. Are you going to be interrogating me all evening?"
Mark jokes, "Would be more fun if we tied Bruce to a chair, dad?"
"I not humored," Matt replies.
Steve says, "He's not humored guys," turning to taking the food out of the oven pan, "who's hungry?"
Every statement could be followed by a gay reference. It's how Steve and Mark got to know all the catch phrases of the gay community, spun out by either Bruce or some of his friends, one in particular they recalled meeting him once, but not in the dungeon, `Shea'.
Of course, when Steve set out for college, whom did he happen to get paired up with at the dorm, a gay room mate, which thrilled him. But they didn't know it from the start. It took all of one evening to find out.
"Hey, nice screensaver!" Steve's roomie, Noah made known.
"Oops!" Steve thought about it, meaning to change the picture on his laptop, the fated discovery made known by opening it. Looking up into Noah's face, Steve says, "Sorry about that," sorry about the tall frat guy, standing, his hand wrapped around his long shaft and pumping it.
"No problem," his beefy room mate replies, and now that it's out on the table, "I don't mind at all Steve. Matter of fact I do it myself, unless I have a guy around to do it for me?"
Coasting down Noah's bod, Steve knew he was being given the hint, Noah rubbing his jeans right where it was starting to bulge.
"So, I suppose you're going to be needing some help?"
"Stoopid question, Steve!" Noah replies.
"Cool!" Steve was all for it, forgetting about the nude dude on the screen, spinning around in his chair and going right for the Jewish dude's zipper.
Over it, hung a slight stomach, which didn't phase Steve, his thirst for what lay inside the pants. He soon found out, "Whoa! What're you, a 10?"
"Nine. Think you can handle it?" Noah replies.
Steve jokes, "If I can't, make me!"
"Oh, I would have no problem doing that, Steve!"
It was an adventure the two happened upon, instigated by thoughts and words.
For Steve, he couldn't wait to wrap his lips around the deflated shaft, which as it grew, stretched to the back of his throat and began cutting off the air flow.
As for Noah, he had all these thoughts in his head and upon entering college, had wild dreams about coming across some frat guy, crazy enough to want to play beyond gay sex.
His first try at kinky fun came, when he says, "I'm not going to make you Steve, by forcing my cock down your throat."
"You're not?" Steve asks, after pulling off. "Um, like how does that go?"
It was the first time Steve ever took a guy's belt over his back, Noah warranting it, "Whenever I screwed up, my old man made me pay."
He wasn't sure about this, but after that first lash across his upper bod, Steve was hooked, hinting for another, "I'm not sure I can suck you, Noah."
The second lash came like a vengeance, Steve crying out, then going from half-bent over the bed, to jumping up on it, bending back, as if placing his hand behind his back he could feel the welt, "Oh shit that stung like hell!"
"But you didn't mind it much, did you?" Noah says, looking at Steve's Giants boxer briefs.
"Um," Steve had to confirm Noah's idea and his own wondering, "shit! I'm, like hard!"
Not only hard, but leaking, wet blue' contrasted with dry blue'.
"You want more Steve, don't you?"
He reckoned so, not saying, but returning to the foot of the bed and different from before, spread his arms out overhead, clinging to the mattress.
Expectant of the stinging pain, Steve clamors with a feeling of pain, his cock ramming the edge of the bed, "Oh fuck!"
Playing with him, "You need another one Steve?"
It did occur to Steve, where was Noah coming up with this stuff, but his pulsing cock didn't care if there was an explanation of not, "Yeah," he grit his teeth.
"Hard or soft?"
Damn, was the power of suggestion strong, but this all being new to him, "Whatever you think."
"No, Steve. I'm not taking responsibility for something you want and need."
"What're you, Noah? A fuckin' psych major?"
"That I am and you're my first case scenario!" Noah laughed. "What's it going to be, Steve? My belt coming down over your back," Noah made it dramatic, "after I lift it way up over my head and bring it down or a tickling?"
As if an indicator, one of Steve's hands had weaseled its way down to his pubes.
"New rule Steve. If you want to stroke yourself you have to earn it."
"Where are you coming up with this stuff, Noah?" Steve asks, adhering to his wish, leaving his cock alone even though he so desperately wanted to stroke it.
"I have my sources," even though, for the record, Noah was making all this up as he went along, based on internet stories and bdsm dvds for sale, of which some he has purchased, others have seen trailers, figuring out his own way to end the stories.
"I really need to come."
Noah responds, "Then you need to take ten lashes."
"Ten fuckin' what?"
Noah backs down, "Okay, five lashes, but that's my final offer Steve."
`Final offer?' Steve thought on it. If he wanted to, he could get up right now, lay down on the bed and jerk himself off. Standing in the way, were Noah and his ideas!
"I've got a paper to finish. What's it going to be Steve?"
Maybe Noah thought he had it all in the palm of his hand, but Steve throws a curve into it, "Okay, five lashes, but then you have to fuck me."
It sort of was a `dream come true', a beefy cub like Noah, thinking he would never have the opportunity to ever fuck a muscled guy, stepping out of character, jumping at the opportunity, "You got it!"
Sensing something, Steve asks, "Um, like how many guys have you fucked, Noah?"
"A few," Noah responded, out of shame, but then leveled with Steve, because he was acting like he was waiting for the real truth, "Um, you're like my first, Steve?"
Noah expected more reaction from Steve, other than turning his chest back over onto the bed, grabbing the edges of the mattress with both hands.
"Rough or soft?" Noah gave him a choice.
He hadn't seen yet, the plug which was going to be inserted, but said with confidence, something he's really wanted to feel for a long time, "As hard as you can deliver it!"
"Are you sure?" Noah replies, remembering well how his father used to delve out punishment with the strap he had out in the shed.
"Yeah, maybe. Whateva. Just do it!"
Recalling the first few times Noah became the scapegoat for his father's drinking, he couldn't possibly apply the same pressure to Steve, so went light, but by the fifth lash across Steve's blades, he gave him a harsh one.
"Oh fuckin' shit!" Steve called out.
"You should be proud of yourself, Steve."
"I dunno damned why," he winces, still clutching the sheets.
"You took all five without quitting."
"I took all five because I want to feel you inside me!"
He wasn't a sadist, just giving a guy what he wants, Noah asking, "How bad?"
"Forget it. I'm not taking anymore lashes. Just mount me and dig your tool into me!"
"I'm not sure," Noah got the jitters.
"Great!" Steve says, like he's frustrated. Doing a pushup from the bed, he comes across a gruesome discovery, "Oh shit!"
"What?" Noah looks between Steve and the bed.
"I creamed myself!"
"Cool!" Noah thought it was cool, "You really like getting whipped, don't you Steve?"
"Apparently so," Steve replies, taking a finger of goo from the bed and tasting it.
"If you like it that much Steve, why don't you have mine?"
It's what he's wanted all along, but being fair, his `ass' being left out, "I thought you wanted to fuck me?"
"I can. Tomorrow or the next day?"
"Or later tonight?" Steve puts it to Noah.
"That too," Noah agrees.
Noah didn't have to wait that long. Steve had him lay down on the bed, at which point he did the honors of stripping Noah down to nothing. Removing his own briefs, he mesmerized Noah with his blowjob skills, licking up and down the tall shaft, taking each ball sac in separately, finally spitting the bathed one out, then asking, "Have you ever had this done to you?"
Never had anyone much done anything sexual with Noah. The one time, his father had caught him, on the side of the road, in some older guy's truck, giving Noah a blowjob. The recipient was sent on his way, being marked by Noah's father as a `heathen'. He didn't go without being scalded taking out to the shed and punishment delivered, his father claiming he was driving demons out of Noah.
Upon telling Steve the story, Steve claims, "What a sicko!"
"I guess it makes me a sicko, doing it to you?"
Lowering Noah's legs, from on the verge of wanting to tongue his ass, Steve scoots up, his chest blanketing Noah's pubes, "You're not being a sicko if it's me `wanting' you to do it. Damn, if anybody's a sicko, it's me for wanting you to whip me!" Steve laughs it off, even though he can still feel two of the five lashes.
Smiling, Noah says, "Anytime you need a fix, Steve."
It was strange to Noah, being slightly overweight, having a musclehead come lay beside him, a hand planing over his hairy stomach and chest, him saying, "Feels nice Steve."
"Mind if I take a taste?" Steve asks, after a finger singles out a stiff nip.
"Eat your heart out!" Noah replies, though he was on pins and needles.
What started out strange, became less so, Steve licking over Noah's nip, wetting down his pec, to fully bathing each pec. Slowly, Noah became Steve's victim, licking down the hairy stomach, saying, "This is one of my favorite parts," digging his tongue into Noah's navel. What a plunge it was, the rounded stomach, deep descent, Steve's tongue licking the hairy exterior.
Noah, a stranger to gay sex, wondered at Steve's other favorite parts!
%
At the Theissen dinner table, Bruce had started out with the typical, `How was your day?' question to Matt, but very soon the conversation returned to the matter at hand.
Before Matt pressed Bruce for more detail on his knowledge of Steve and Mark's coming out and other information, he asks Steve about campus life, both the gay side and his kinky side affected.
Steve didn't tell the whole tale of his Freshman year and the courtship of his roommate, Noah, but did admit he had a gay room mate that first year.
"And this year?" his dad asks.
"Straight, unfortunately!" Steve remarks, laughing.
Mark on the other hand, as he's heard Bruce's friend Shea say, repeats, "Everybody's got their faults!"
Looking at Bruce, Matt says, "Seems to me I've heard that before?"
Bruce informs Matt, "The boys have met my friend Shea once, but not in the dungeon."
Having met Shea this morning, Matt says, "Oh, so the gorilla I met this morning is a `playmate' of yours?"
Steve slips, "Yeah, Shea's real awesome."
"In what respect?" Matt quizzes his son, then stuffs a fork full of lasagna in his mouth.
Shrugging his shoulders, Steve says, "He's a cool guy. That's all."
"That's all, huh?" Matt senses differently. "I thought we all here were off on a new beginning. If that's the case, I don't think we should start out by keeping secrets from each other?"
Mark, silent, speaks, "Uh yeah, I think that's how it should go." Instead of looking to his father, he stare at Bruce!
Gulping down a glass of wine, Bruce says, "Well, yes, um, it's no lie the boys met Shea, but not `downstairs', but upstairs in the shop office, one afternoon."
"Last year. On spring break," Steve offers info, after seeing his father act in a calm manner.
Mark and Steve had been on edge all during the late afternoon, while putting together supper. Both talked, not about the conversation here and now, but Steve at college. Mark's line of fire was focused on campus life and other particulars regarding the educational institution of higher learning. He already knew he was going to love it there, based on Steve's description.
Figuring he was never going to catch up on every little detail, Matt says out of the blue, "By the way, Bruce invited me to the next get together of the `Chain Gang'."
News to Matt, Mark asks, "We're still on for Saturday, right Bruce?"
Appalled, showing it, Matt directs to Bruce, "You're having a get together and you didn't even tell me?"
Steve covers for him, "Dad, it's only going to be, Mark, me and Uncle Bruce."
"Oh. I thought you were getting together with the whole gang. Don't you usually?" Matt asks Bruce.
"Sometimes. Sometimes not, if I have special guests and they want to have a private, discreet time of it, however..." Bruce hesitates.
Right away Mark has a sneaky suspicion, "Let me guess. Shea's coming?"
"Not exactly. Months ago I had promised my friend, Rick, I would let him bring somebody to play in the dungeon, one on one, because Rick's friend wanted to remain very discreet. So happens his friend is a college student and needs to head back to school on Monday, so feeling for Rick, I gave him the okay to use the dungeon on Saturday."
He waited.
Matt, since Bruce looked to him, like he wanted an opinion, says, "It's up to the boys."
Mark, younger, but more outspoken of the two, says, "Well, if he is looking for secrecy in what he does and we're out for the same thing," for the first time, "what do you think, Steve?"
"Me?" Tossing it back to his brother, "Whatever sounds good to you, is good for me, bro."
"Is it okay with your friend Rick and his friend?" Mark asks Bruce.
Bruce smiles, says, "I'm not going to tell them before hand. I'm just going to spring it on them."
"That doesn't sound fair," Matt replies.
"I know, but it would make a difference if I didn't know the other two guys weren't Mark and Steve?"
"Hey, I got an idea," Steve raises question, "why don't you come, dad?"
Bruce and Matt having already discussed the possibility, Bruce renders, "Now why didn't I think of that! How about it Matt?"
"I don't know. I don't know if I want to watch my two sons engage in such behavior."
"Dad..."
"What Mark?"
"You've already seen Steve and me playing around in the basement. We're not doing anything neither of us wants to do."
Steve, thinking it would be tough to put into words, to his dad, how he felt about his brother wielding a strap behind his back, "You have to understand, Dad, I was liking what Mark was doing to me?"
"Well, I could tell that!"
"You could?" Mark asks, wondering something.
"Uh, um..." Matt suddenly didn't want to explain, seeing Steve `hard'!
Bruce had it all in the bag though, "I think your father noticed `something' about Steve, like... between his legs?"
Steve blasts out with, "You were scoping out my pubes, dad?"
"Well I wasn't exactly staring, if that's what you mean, but I did take notice of it... um, long and dripping?"
"I think that's cool," Mark says.
"What's cool?" his dad asks.
"You, a straight guy, noticing a gay dude's hard shaft leaking precum?"
"If you need a translation?" Bruce asks Matt.
"No thanks. I know my `sexual vocabulary', thank you," Matt replies.
Bruce then says, "If you guys really want to be alone, I can cancel out Rick and his friend?"
Sure, they wanted it to be discreet, especially if their dad was there observing, but hearing of Rick's friend a college dude, Steve exclaims, "Oh you can't do that."
"Of course I can," Bruce replies. "It's my shop, my dungeon and whatever I say, goes!"
"No, I mean Rick's friend. He's going back to school. I know if it were me I'd be `really' disappointed."
Seeing things his brother's way, perhaps sharing the same curiosity, "Steve's right."
"And you?" Bruce puts it to Matt.
"Whatever the boys want. I'm just the innocent bystander!"
"Great," Bruce says, things working out, "now what's for dessert?"
"You're lucky you got dinner," Mark says demonstratively. "You better go get things ready in the dungeon, so Steve and I can get ourselves ready."
"Well!" Bruce acts persnickety. "I've never been invited to dinner to only be thrown out, especially by my own two nephews!"
Matt, remembering hearing this, says, "Get over it, Mary!"
He gets the high-five's from both sons, both thinking he's `cool'!
%
That night, months ago in Antonio's private dungeon, he had shown Rick a massively good time. Taking him through more than the law officer had ever endured, starting with his own police baton to the gut as he was fastened to an X-frame, his back to the intersecting portions of timber, padding for each time Antonio threw the wooden implement into Rick's gut, utilizing both hands. He didn't take it too far, ten impacts at a time, in between other `endurances', like floggings of the back and front.
For Rick, it was a dream come true', based on how he pictured it in his mind, if ever happening upon a scenario of being worked over by a hot top man. Sometimes, what he perceived as being something which would drive him over to the edge, blurting out the safewords Antonio left him with, mercy Sir', in the long run, after Antonio showing him the large buttplug he intended on using, the pain passed into the realm of pleasure, the safeword on the tip of his tongue, but never being uttered. Later on, hours after an intense torture session, including abs-punching, whipping his back and ass with both flogger and strap, apparatus hung from his balls, wires connected to nips, navel, cock and balls, stinging currents of electricity shocking him, Rick had to finally cave in to, "Mercy, Sir."
With Rick spread eagled, hanging from two hooks drilled into an overhead beam, leather cuffs at each wrist by which he was suspended, his legs had been spread wide, making Rick think he was a `wishbone'. With a purpose in mind, Antonio had removed the harness from around his ball sacs, only to place it around the flange of Rick's 7c, which when a small weight was added, made it longer. Throwing back his head, Rick winced, voicing his opinion of the cock torture, "Ahk-k-k-k-k!"
"Hot! Fuckin' hot!" Antonio called it. For a long, long time he's been looking for a guy who can take some heavy cbt, in particularly this particular torture, weight dragging the tip of a cock towards the floor.
Rick's mind was being fucked with, expectant of, like his sacs, small increments of weight being added.
On the other hand, Antonio had other plans in store for Rick's stretched out cock, walking away while Rick was still in pain, returning with something which he hoped would drive him to using his safewords, a small flogger, miniature in appearance to a much larger one used for the back, chest or stomach.
Looking down, Rick knew what was in store for himself. After hours of enduring Antonio's inventive tortures, knowledge of what a flogger was used for, stinging flesh, he didn't even have to ask, but wonder how he was going to fare, with the implement slapping against his weighted shaft. For now he voiced opinion of Antonio sweeping it gently, massaging his cock barrel with small, swishes of the mini-flogger.
"Ready for the real thing?" Antonio threw in a few laughs.
Rick wasn't. Like all the other things Antonio did to him, the first strike was the most dreaded, except his own police bat used on his abs. He was really looking forwards to that, but anything else was new to him.
"I asked you a question, boy!" As if he was losing patience, yet Antonio seeing he was wearing Rick down, to the end of his rope, he thrashed the flogger from above, right down and over Rick's length.
He cried out, grabbing the chains above his taut wrists, dropping his head back and howling out a long chorus of pain, "Ahkk-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k!"
The manner in which Rick took it, Antonio calls it, "Nice!" He waited a bit, walking off to the side to nurse the bottle of beer he was drinking. Returning, he again teased Rick, tickling his shaft with the flogger. "Another go, boy?" He was almost positive Rick was ready to call it quits.
"No... no more... mercy, sir," he called out the safewords between catching his breath.
"I'm going to honor your request, boy, right after I give you one more, just to show you, you can take more than what you think you can!"
Rick begged, "No.... no... more...."
Not as stinging as the first one, Antonio gave Rick a swish to the left, then right, mild compared to the all out lash of the first swing.
To Rick, it did dwarf the first lash of the flogger, but less of an impact because it did not send the parachute flying back and forth. Still, is was cause to repeat his safewords over and over again. He knew he got through to Antonio this time, feeling relief, the parachute dropping off his cock, it bouncing back up, which felt slightly weird, sore and good at the same time.
Then something totally weird, he looked down, after hearing Antonio say, "Looks a bit enflamed," his dominant top bending over and then the ultimate torture, a wet mouth scooping up his cock, a hand using his balls to sweep his cock in and out of Antonio's mouth. This seemed to be going the way of the bdsm dvd's he's viewed, except he had gone the whole gamut of Antonio's beautiful perverseness, punching, whipping, cock and ball torture, nip torture, different increments of buttplugs inserted in his ass, electro-torture to not only his nips, cock and balls, but clamps applied to the lip of his bellyhole, then shocked. He didn't think a lot of the things Antonio did to him fell under the categories listed on the survey he filled out, but right now, felt so awesome, couldn't help but break out of the submissive role, "When... when do I... get to come?"
Popping off Rick's cock with a slurp, Antonio gets up from the squat position, "When I'm good and ready to let you!" he smiled. Having one more torture' left, he took Rick down from his bondage and because it was tough for Rick to stand, left him there for a moment, abs to the floor and dragged the horse' over.
Too much into his own pleasurable stress, Rick didn't even realize Antonio had come once already. If he did, he would have realized it was not soothing balm, but rather Antonio's own come he was massaging Rick's back with, right before his third and last whipping, with a leather strap.
With Rick pretty much drained of energy, Antonio didn't even need to fasten him down, just throw Rick's carcass onto the padding, allowing his arms to drape down over it. Kicking Rick's legs apart, Antonio used the sweat and come, accumulated in the small of Rick's back, as lube.
Going into the intense session, four hours ago, Rick was nice and tight. Antonio had to bust his way in, but after working his way up to fitting his fist into Rick's ass, he knew he wasn't going to have a tight, tight fuck. Though it didn't matter. Not his last fuck for the night, because Antonio had plans later on tonight, this would be special. His intentions were to, as he was doing now, shove his cock into Rick, then reach around and give the cop a handjob. The deed took less than five minutes, Antonio pulling out, leaving his load on Rick's back, then slamming his chest against Rick, working his hand frantically, until Rick cried out, almost as if in pain!
%
On the other hand, Victor, right after getting the call from his uncle, lay there on his bed and pouted, with extreme disappointment Uncle Antonio had set him up with this cop, only to cancel out, on the premise he was having too much fun and didn't want it to end so soon. He had it in mind to march right over there anyway, other than Uncle Antonio seemed to be the only one in the family who has accepted him for being not only gay, but into this `weird stuff'. He owed him and never would dare to cross him, out of respect.
Already, his room mate, Tom Heiser, a footballer, stacked up at 6'3, had sympathized with him, said he had a few minutes before he ran off to pick up his girl.
However, Victor wasn't looking forward to lying down on the bed and having Tom slap his chest and stomach with his big palms. That was frat stuff. He was looking for a more realistic time. Even being victim to innocent frat play, like having chest and stomach smashed with ping pong balls wasn't a trade off, though he thanked Tom for trying to help out.
Only Tom knew the real truth behind Victor not minding, though Victor would play `hard to get', hard to get behind the soaring ping pong ball or hand target for chest and stomach slaps. At times, when not with the gang, Victor has coaxed Tom into punching him in the abs, while his hands were behind his head, elbows raised.
However, he could drive Tom only so far and stuff like punching him in the balls, or tying them off with sneakers laces, dropping the sneakers off the foot of the bed, Victor couldn't convince Tom.
Though, there was one night he thanked his lucky stars, Tom coming back to the dorm drunk, the excuse he had broken up with his girl and in an awful fit to fuck!
%
Copyright 2012 T. Chase McPhee
ChANGe WiTH ThE TiMEs, may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.
The more you stretch, the more you can fit in... 'spread' happiness! TCMcP
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