Chesapeake Boy, 2203 A.D. - Part 4
[NOTE: This is the continuation of a story set in the future, 200 years after a terrorist-released virus nearly wiped out the human race. You can read the earlier chapters by going to Nifty's index of "stories by prolific net authors" and looking under "Bill".]
The night air was increasingly chilly as the horse-drawn carriage approached the town of Williamsburg. Harvest was over, and the town was growing in population as aristocrats moved from their outlying plantations into townhouses for the winter. Even the Duke of Norfolk himself moved up-river from Norfolk Town to take up residence in the Winter Palace at Williamsburg. The social scene became much more lively in the winter season, as did business at the town's only high-class boy-brothel.
Cleavon Spinks held the sleeping 12-year-old slaveboy on his lap, hugging the slender lad close. Cleavon had wrapped his long cloak around the both of them for warmth. The handsome brown-skinned young man exchanged conversation in quiet tones with the lanky 17-year-old youth holding the reins as the two horses clomped toward the edge of town.
"Did you enjoy your stay in the city, Master?" asked the driver.
"That I did, Seth. Stayed the night at a harbor-side tavern in Norfolk Town where the food and ale were first-rate, and the bed was soft. And I managed to entice a burley longshoreman up to my room for some fun... hung like a horse he was," added Cleavon in a sly and slightly effeminate tone. "But I got all my business taken care of too. Bought some sexy new garments for the boys of the Club to use as work costumes. And of course I purchased the new slave-boy here. Paid a hefty price at auction, too. I was bidding against an aristocrat who fancied him for a concubine. But the lad's a beauty and has a natural talent for pleasing men, so I think Mr. Nkomo will be well satisfied at how I spent his money."
"A beauty indeed, Master. Will he be sleeping in the boys' room before long? I've hopes of getting him in my bunk right soon," said Seth in a wishful voice.
"Ha! Not bloody likely for a while. Mr. Nkomo will have him in his own bed the first few nights, like he always does with the new arrivals. And then I expect to take him for a time. He might even get sent out for overnights with special customers. And don't go breaking the rule about sex-play in the daytime before the Club opens for customers."
"No, Master; you know I never break that rule."
"Anyway, don't you get as much night-time fun as you want with the other lads? I hear tell you've been bedding young Cupid pretty much regular."
"Aye, Master. And that scamp Cupid is a cute one, alright. But your new lad there is something special. Makes be horny just looking at his face, and I ain't even seen him awake yet."
"Well don't get too presumptuous... just remember you still have that slave-collar around your neck. I've always liked you, Seth, but you're still just a whitey slave until your indenture ends. You break the rules, and I'll have to lay into your back with the whip."
"Yes, Master. I know," murmured Seth. He had only 5 months remaining until his 18th birthday, when his contract of indenture terminated and he was free. Seth was rather old for work as a pleasure-slave, but even a tall and maturing 17-year-old was still desirable enough to attract paying customers when he had the light skin and fair hair of a whitey. White boys and young white wenches held considerable erotic appeal among the brown- skinned aristocracy who ruled the city-states of the Chesapeake Bay region. Boy-brothels typically sold off their slaves to a plantation for field work when they reached sexual maturity, but Nkomo had kept Seth on to serve any customers who might fancy an older youth. Seth's specialty was the giving and receiving of rough play... taking a spanking or paddling from a man who found the act an arousing prelude to sex... or delivering erotic discipline to a customer who wanted to live out submissive fantasies.
At last, the carriage came to a stop on the cobble-stone pavement of Gloucester Street, in front of a sizable wood-frame building that had two bright torches at the front door and candles in each window of its three stories. Cleavon woke the boy who slept soundly on his lap.
"Billy?... Wake up, lad. Pull yourself together," said Cleavon in a calm but firm voice. The boy awoke slowly and glanced around him at the historic colonial-era buildings of Williamsburg, many of which were over 400 years old, while others were reproductions made 200 years ago during the Golden Age. Unlike so many of the structures remaining from the long-vanished civilization, those in Williamsburg had proven adaptable to a world that knew nothing of electricity or central heating.
In the light of the torches, Cleavon ran a comb through the Billy's wind-blown blond hair. Then he took a handkerchief from his pocket, wetted it with his tongue, and wiped a crust of dried semen from the boy's chin. Billy's eyes fixed above the building's entrance on the sign that swayed a bit in the breeze. Unable to read, he paid no attention to the words that said "Blue Boy Club". But he stared at the painted picture showing a young adolescent lad with honey-brown skin, naked but for a rich blue velvet cape -- parted to display his body -- and a medieval style hat of the same material. One hand rested saucily on his hip; the other hand was casually positioned to hide his genitals. The imaginary boy on the sign also wore a thin blue slave collar on his neck... the same color and style as the cloth-covered metal band around Billy's own neck.
As Seth took the carriage back around to the barn, Cleavon said "Billy, this is your new home. Be lively, now, and make a good first impression. You've done well so far today, and now's the time to really show your obedience and charms."
As the door to the Club opened, the sounds of conversation, laughter, and music poured out. It was bright inside, lit by numerous candles in chandeliers and in wall sconces. The thick air was warm, heated by iron stoves at each end of the room, and smelled of smoke-weed (harvested from the resinous buds of the hemp plant). Billy's eyes scanned the 15 men and 6 scantily-clad boys in the room. Another man and boy were coming down a staircase, the boy tucking his fancy white shirt into tight flannel shorts, and the man red-faced as if he had just run a race.
A musical instrument the likes of which Billy had never before seen was played by a handsome youth of 15 years, wearing very short pants and an open vest. The instrument was an upright piano, another relic of the vanished civilization of the Golden Age.
On a small elevated stage at the back of the room was a totally naked 13-year-old boy with black skin and frizzy hair. The slender, small-framed boy was dancing to the music... moving in a grinding motion that made his surprisingly large flaccid penis bob and sway hypnotically. The boy's ebony skin color (as rare in the Chesapeake region as Billy's whiteness) reminded Billy of the friend he had left behind... only two days ago when Pa had sold Billy into indentured servitude... and he felt a pang of homesickness. The dancing boy -- whose name was Deon -- looked bored, and few of the men in the room were paying him any particular attention. Other boys were circulating about the room, flirting with customers, bringing them tankards of beer, and preparing pipes of smoke-weed for them.
Billy's attention next focused on the youngest boy in the room, a 9-year-old with dark-tan skin who went by the name of Cupid. The lad was perched on the lap of a man who had just drained a tankard. The boy wore a short feminine garment of silky translucent pink material (once known as a "baby-doll nighty") and was naked from the waist down. He giggled when the customer's fingers slid up his inner thigh and fondled his little-boy erection and compact ball-sack, as the man whispered in the lad's ear. A few moments later, the two were on their feet and walking over to a corner of the tavern room, where a large well-dressed man -- the proprietor -- sat at a table, a metal strongbox at his elbow. The customer paid the proprietor some coins and was then led up the staircase by the young boy. As the two left the tavern room, the customer's hand was playfully caressing Cupid's naked little butt.
"That's your owner, there at the table," said Cleavon to Billy. "Follow me. Stand back a few paces while I speak to him... and give him your sexiest look whenever he glances your way.
Mr. Nkomo's face brightened when he saw Cleavon approaching, and then brightened even more when he saw the new slave-boy.
"Greetings, Master," said Cleavon, still using the form of address that had become ingrained during his years as one of Nkomo's indentured slaves, and gave the man a discrete kiss on the lips. (Such affection between two grown men was somewhat taboo... quite unlike the commonly accepted practice of men taking pleasure with slave-boys.)
"Welcome home, my love," said the older man in a low voice. Gazing over at Billy, who stood a few paces back trying his best to look alluring, he added "You bought well, Cleavon! Damned if he doesn't look just like..."
"Like Ganymede!" said Cleavon, finishing the man's sentence. "My own thought as well, Master."
"Well, let's hope the Duke doesn't take this one to be his concubine, like he did with Ganymede. He paid a fair price, but I'd have made a lot more from selling Ganymede's services." Then, looking back at Billy, he said "The lad looks reasonably intelligent for a whitey. How are his skills?"
"A very talented mouth, and highly motivated. I was given a short demonstration before the auction, and then got a leisurely suck on the trip up-river from Norfolk Town. His indenture was begun just yesterday, and he says he didn't work at the sex-trade before. Seems to have a natural knack for the work.... I've no doubt he'll do well in your bed tonight."
"Does he cum yet?"
"Aye, Master, though I doubt he's been spurting very long... not a single hair down there," said Cleavon. "He jacked himself while up on the block at today's auction. Put on quite a show for the bidders, dancing and stroking. Gave forth a couple of nice little squirts." And lowering his voice even more, he added "I'll wager you'll find his boy-juice tastes as sweet as honey!"
"Excellent!" said the older man, rubbing his hands together. "I've a mind to try him out immediately. Look after the cash box, and close up the Club when you think the time's right."
"Of course, Master. But before you retire for the night, hows about we introduce him to the customers for a few minutes? Get him up there on platform with Deon and see if he can liven the stage show a bit."
"A fine idea, Love," said the older man. "Good business to show the new boy off and generate a demand for his services."
Cleavon turned to Billy and whispered instructions in his ear, gesturing over to where Deon was dancing. Billy nodded his understanding and pulled off the oversized sweater that covered him from neck to knees like a loose cocoon. Underneath was his new working costume -- antique clothing consisting of a sleeveless basketball jersey, and underwear briefs so small they stretched tight over his butt and outlined his genitals in front. Both garments had been purchased by Cleavon for a substantial price the previous day.
Billy moved quickly over to the small 4-foot-high stage and boosted himself up on it.
"Master wants me to dance with you," he whispered to the black- skinned boy and smiled at him warmly. Deon smiled back, instantly enchanted with the pretty newcomer. The older youth at the piano noticed the situation and shifted his playing to a more energetic tune. As the two began to gyrate on stage, the eyes of men and boys all around the room turned to watch.
Billy had danced with another boy in just such a manner the previous day, on the ship that brought him down the Chesapeake Bay to Norfolk Town, and he had a good idea of what to do. Deon was a 3-year veteran of the Blue Boy Club, and knew the drill almost instinctively.
Billy and Deon danced apart at first, trading off moves as if in competition to see which could be sexier. Touching themselves suggestively, the two boys let their hands glide along their hips, chests, butts, and crotches. Then, locking fingers behind their necks, they moved their hips with blatantly erotic thrusts. Soon, they were dancing face-to-face, crotches rubbing together, and their hands wandering over each other's bodies. When Deon turned around and began grinding his naked ass against Billy's crotch, Billy responded by reaching around the dark-skinned boy with both hands... one caressing his slender boyish chest, the other fondling his generously proportioned adolescent cock. Though Deon was only 13 years old, and no taller than Billy, his penis rose in a perfectly formed 7-inch erection... incongruously large on a young body and decorated with only a few strands of pubic hair.
They changed places, with Billy facing the audience and Deon hugging him from behind. The dark-skinned lad slowly lifted Billy's under-sized sleeveless shirt, pulling it completely off when Billy raised his arms. Then Deon's hands wandered over Billy's chest and hips and cloth-covered crotch as their hips moved in unison. Lusty comments were shouted out by the customers in the room, some of them calling out to be first for a session upstairs with Billy.
When Deon's fingers slipped inside the waistband of the tight briefs and lowered them slowly, Billy's plump erection was already standing up at its full 4 inches as it came into view. Billy's underpants were half-way down his thighs and Deon's erection was wedged between the younger boy's ass cheeks. As they continued their lewd dance, Deon's nimble fingers slid Billy's foreskin back and forth across his purple cock-head. Then Deon knelt down, and as he pulled the briefs off completely, he ostentatiously licked at the globes of Billy's smooth ass.
Four customers stood at the edge of the small platform, reaching up to fondle Billy. They were elbowing each other in their efforts to get closer to the lad when Mr. Nkomo pushed his way through the crowd.
"Alright gents! Enough for now! The new boy's not available for hire tonight. Come back tomorrow, though... anytime after sundown... and he'll be ready to serve your pleasure. Just to let you know... the cost will be 8 silvers for an hour with him." Nkomo lifted Billy down to the floor, leaving Deon standing on the platform... still sporting an impressive boner. "Meanwhile, who'd like a session with this one?" the owner said as if he were an auctioneer "Five silvers for an hour with the little blacky and his big cock."
As Billy was led, stark naked, up to his new owner's private quarters, he thought about the hours of training he had received from the slave-merchant the previous night. 'Submission to your master must be total' his first master had said. 'And when you provide sexual service to a man, you must anticipate his desires and do whatever you think might give greatest pleasure.'
Entering the bedroom, Nkomo instructed Billy to put a shovelful of coal on the glowing embers in the fireplace, and then use a thin splinter of wood to light the bedside candles.
"You'll do that each time you bring a customer up to a room," said the man. "Now, undress me."
Billy's mind raced with thoughts as to how he might make the undressing of his new master a satisfying sensual experience for the man. As he unbuttoned Nkomo's shirt, Billy's maintained eye contact, trying to have his face display a mixture of shyness and desire. Working the buttons with one hand, his other hand caressed the man's abundant chest hair and toyed gently with his master's prominent nipples. Standing on tiptoes, Billy gently kissed the man's lips, then opened his mouth to accept his master's tongue. As both tongues danced together erotically, Billy's hands worked the shirt off and then moved down to unbuckle the belt. When Nkomo's trousers fell to his knees, Billy reached for the man's cock with one hand and his full ball-sack with the other. The cock was long and thick, rising to full stiffness in his hand.
"Cleavon says you've got a good mouth. Show me what you can do."
Billy knelt down, gave the large cock a couple more strokes, and inclined it slightly toward his mouth, looking up into his master's eyes with an expression of eager lust. And indeed, he did feel excited to be pleasuring the man who would own him for the next 5-1/2 years. But more than that, Billy understood perfectly that he needed to make a good impression. He had been told more than once since being sold into slavery that life as a brothel boy could be good... far better than he had ever known in his previous life of rural poverty... so long as he showed himself to be talented at the sexual arts.
Billy's lips and tongue began to work on the broad helmet-head of the musky cock as he fondled the shaft with his fingers. The erection was thick and a full 8 inches long... hot and pulsing with manly lust, oozing fluid from the slit. Though he had never sucked a man's cock until the previous night, Billy had been thoroughly trained by the slave-merchant -- whose cock was of similar stature -- and had then given brief demonstrations of his oral talents to some twenty prospective bidders before the slave auction. Though it wasn't easy, he worked Nkomo's fat cock-head past the entrance of his throat. With a few more bobs of his head, Billy's lips were pressing against the nest of thick black pubic hair.
"Yes... that's it, boy... let me feel your throat clenching around it... ahhh, yes!" Nkomo's hands were pressing against the back of Billy's head, keeping him from rising back up the thick 8-inch stalk.
Before long, the boy's lungs began to burn, and he felt light- headed from lack of oxygen. But he didn't resist; rather, he made swallowing movements as he had been taught and twisted his head from side to side. He was determined that he would rather pass out than risk his master's displeasure. With his lungs burning, Billy felt the man's hands pulling his head away. Even as he gasped for breath, however, his mouth sought the stiff cock again, eager to show his readiness to please.
"No, boy; that's enough sucking for now," said the man, lifting Billy to his feet. "Get on the bed, in position to be fucked. Pose for me... make me hungry for you."
Billy had been taught just such a skill by the slave-merchant. Hopping onto the big feather-bed, he positioned himself on his left side, drawing up his right leg to display his ass... his hand gliding along his flank and then parting his ass-cheek to reveal the pink puckered hole, which he tickled with his finger. Looking back over his shoulder at his master, Billy's eyes smouldered with seemingly-real desire. His tongue slid across his upper lip invitingly.
"Good... very good," said the man as he stood in the center of the room, slowly stroking his erection. "But you are not yet prepared... unless you prefer to take me dry."
"Master?" asked the puzzled boy, flustered at not understanding what was expected of him.
"There on the table beside you... that dish of oil. Use your fingers to oil your hole. You can't expect me to do it for you. Cleavon will teach you how to do it discretely when he trains you further in the pleasure arts."
Billy dipped his fingers into the viscous fluid and brought them to his anus, rubbing them around the outside and then pushing two digits into the hole. Then he used the cloth on the table to wipe his hand and looked back to his master to seek approval. A smile, and the man's continued slow masturbation, told him he's done it right.
Nkomo eased himself onto the bed and snuggled up against Billy's back and thighs, running his hand along the slender body, kissing the back of Billy's neck and inhaling his boyish essence. Then he reached down to guide his cock-head against the boy's quivering anal flesh and pushed forward. While not at all brutal, neither was the man particularly gentle. He was a man of powerful sexual appetites and usually enjoyed having his first orgasm flow from a fast, vigorous fuck. He would be more interested in a leisurely approach when he had revived for a second cum... or perhaps even a third later into the night.
An involuntary gasp escaped from Billy's mouth as the burning pain emanated from his bottom. Instinct told him to clamp his hole shut, but he knew he must push himself open. As he bit down hard on the bed-covers, the thick cock-head slid past the circle of muscle.
"Ahhh... so nice and tight! And you took it with no crying out," said the man in a panting voice. "You're off to a good start, lad."
And with that, he began pumping his cock into Billy's ass, going deeper with each stroke as his hands continued to explore the slave-boy's body and his mouth licked and nibbled at the flesh of Billy's neck and shoulder and ear.
The worst of the pain was over for Billy, though his bottom continued to burn. The feeling of fullness caused by the large cock churning inside his body was not unpleasant, however, and he reminded himself that he must pretend to enjoy the experience.
"Oh, YES, Master!" he gasped as his fingers dug into the bed. "It feels so good to have you inside me! Your cock is so big... so powerful! Please... fuck me harder!"
Perhaps it was the power of suggestion, but as he received thrust after vigorous thrust, Billy DID begin to feel pleasurable sensations gradually overcoming the pain. The fact that Nkomo began fondling the boy's penis and balls undoubtedly helped matters.
If he had desired to make the fuck-session last, the man could have slowed up and kept going almost indefinitely. There was no great exertion in fucking a boy as they both lay on their sides. But the brothel-owner was hungry for a quick cum, and he increased his pace instead, grunting with pleasure. In only a few minutes, Billy could feel the spasms of the man's orgasm. Pulse after pulse of hot fluid pumped into the Billy's tight ass as he clenched his anal muscle around the throbbing phallus.
They lay quietly for a time, in the afterglow of the master's orgasm, and Billy continued to clench rhythmically on the softening cock.
"Mmmmm... that's good, boy.... What's your name again?"
"Billy, Master. And I am gratified that I please you."
"Billy.... Hmmm; I'll have to think about whether to change your name. It can be good business for my prettiest boys to have fancy names... Ganymede... Cupid... Pan... Antonius."
The classical references meant nothing to Billy, but he reflexively replied "Yes, Master."
Nkomo slid his soft cock out of the boy's rectum and turned Billy around in his arms so that they could kiss, long and deep. Over the next half-hour, they caressed and licked and sucked each other's bodies until the man's lust was recharged and his cock was again fully hard. Without prompting, Billy lubricated his anus and straddled Nkomo's reclining body to ride his master's cock. The boy enjoyed taking a man's cock in this position, and Nkomo made it all the better by toying with his slave's perky erection throughout the extended fuck.
After the man succumbed to orgasm, he pulled Billy off his cock and positioned the slave to kneel astride his master's head, with Nkomo savoring the 4-inch boy-cock in his mouth. Billy purred and cooed with a pleasure that didn't need to be acted out, and he cried out in pure lust as the man's talented lips and tongue drew forth excited little spurts of boy-cum. Another interlude of kissing and licking and petting ensued, during which Nkomo had Billy serve him a pipeful of smoke-weed... and taught the boy how to inhale the intoxicating fumes as well. Finally, Billy was positioned on his back with his legs drawn up to his shoulders, to be fucked in a vigorous session that seemed to last forever. It ended with Nkomo jacking the boy off... timed so that the anal spasms of Billy's orgasm would enhance the master's powerful climax. Only then did the two fall into exhausted sleep.
...
The sun was well up in the morning sky when Billy awoke beside his sleeping master, beneath a feather-filled comforter. Nkomo's arm was draped around him, and the man's body spooned against Billy's back and ass. The slave boy could feel his master's stiff cock wedged into the cleft of his butt, and the first thought to enter his mind was 'What can I do to please my owner?' Billy pressed back against the man's stout erection and began grinding his ass erotically... at the same time stroking his own boy-cock to stiffness.
"Mmmm... you're a sweet one to wake up to, lad," said the man groggily, reaching down to fondle Billy's 4-inch erection. "I fancy another go-round with you, but I've got to drain my piss first. Stoke up the fire, boy, and then fetch the chamber pot."
Billy did as instructed, rising from the warmth of the bed and shivering as he added some coal and used a small hand-bellows to get the fire glowing. His master stared lustily at the naked boy's youthful boner bobbing as he moved, and felt even more aroused by the boy's beauty. As Billy brought the chamber pot from the corner of the room, the man rose up and stood beside the bed.
Billy stood before his master, positioning the wide-mouthed ceramic receptacle just below the man's crotch. But try as he might, Nkomo couldn't force his cock down to an angle that would allow him to urinate into the pot.
"Put the bowl down, boy, and get on your knees. Wrap your lips around my cock, and drink my water. Your gullet will be my chamber pot this morning."
Billy cringed inwardly at the thought, though he hid the reaction and didn't hesitate to obey. As he slid his lips over the crown of the man's hard penis, the slave-boy closed his eyes and tensed his body. The first spray of warm, slightly-bitter fluid hit the roof of his mouth and swirled onto his tongue in a short burst, and he did his best to swallow it quickly. The stiffness of the erection prevented the urine from flowing freely, so Billy was able to drink almost all of it, with just a bit escaping down his chin. Though the taste was not nearly as bad as he had anticipated, the very concept of performing this degrading act made him queasy. But Billy knew that he must instantly obey every one of his master's commands. Swallowing the shots of hot piss, Billy's mouth instinctively moved with the motions of a baby feeding at his mother's tit. To the delight of his master, the slave-boy was actually trying to suck the fluid out... and causing intense sexual sensations as a result. When the flow finally stopped, Nkomo pulled his penis from Billy's mouth and caressed the boy's silky hair with his fingers.
"Well done. Keep on doing what it takes to earn my favor, and you'll find that I reward slaves who please me. How shall I reward you now? I know... I'll let you keep your name. I had fancied the name 'Adonis', but I think you'd like 'Billy' better. Am I right?"
"Yes, Master," replied the boy respectfully, though the idea of acquiring an exotic name had substantial appeal. But then he remembered the life-term slave he'd spoken with two days before, who had bitterly resented the theft of his birth name.
Billy wiped his chin with the back of his hand and then, of his own accord, brought his hand and mouth back to his master's softening penis. After licking the last drops from the piss- slit, Billy's lips enveloped the broad cock-head and began pleasuring it. As Nkomo's cock firmed up again from the vigorous sucking and licking, the man gently lifted the boy to his feet.
"Back to bed with us, lad. It's too cold to stand around naked, and I fancy a nice double-suck to start the day. Show me how well you do a 69."
The man lay back on the bed and covered himself with the quilt as the slave-boy climbed atop him and burrowed head-first under the covers. Each swallowed the full length of the other's erection and began sucking.
"Ah... that's good, lad," said the man, pausing momentarily from sucking Billy's plump little cock. "Let's see if you can make us cum at the same moment."
(Later...)
Sitting at a large table with the 11 other boys, Billy finished off a hearty breakfast. It was late-morning. Back home at his family's little shack on the Bay, he would already have been at work for several hours by now. Billy found the other boys to be a cheerful and talkative bunch, and they took him in as one of their own immediately. None seemed to be put off by the fact that he was white-skinned. In fact, four of the others were whities as well... more than he had ever seen at one time in his life.
All the lads were dressed in the simple clothing of peasant youths... not the unusual and provocative costumes they had worn the night before. Two of the boys worked at cooking and serving the food; two others at clean-up. The brothel had no servants other than the slave-boys themselves, and each was assigned chores during the day, with some time for leisure as well. At sunset, they would begin again the job of entertaining paying customers. That particular work continued until Nkomo decided to close up for the night... typically around midnight, unless there were still new customers coming in.
Billy wasn't assigned chores this day. Instead he was taken upstairs by Cleavon to one of the bedrooms used to entertain customers. For the next several hours, he received a broad range of training for his work in the brothel. Rules of behavior were emphasized... the various chores were explained... techniques of service were taught in minute detail... and the process of washing himself between customers was demonstrated and practiced.
The Blue Boy Club's workers had to be skilled at the flirtation, entertainment, and conversation carried out in the first-floor tavern, in addition to displaying their talents upstairs in the bedrooms. So Cleavon and Billy role-played the interaction of customer and brothel-boy at length.
Cleavon devoted plenty of time to running through a full repertoire of sexual techniques, satisfying his lust with boy in long, leisurely sessions of sexuality. As a former brothel boy himself, Cleavon had a wealth of knowledge to pass on to the novice: new variations of oral pleasuring, techniques for performing exquisitely-extended masturbation on a customer, new positions in which to be fucked, and new places on a man's body to stimulate with mouth and hands. In addition, Billy learned the best techniques for a young boy to use in fucking a man. Though relatively few customers requested such service in a brothel, some men (like Cleavon himself) appreciated the unique pleasure of being anally penetrated by a boy.
A paramount rule for the boys of the Club was to refrain from ejaculating during the day... either by masturbation or in sex play with another boy. A boy's cum was to be saved up for the paying customers, who might want to suck him off, jack his cock, or watch him masturbate. (Though at night, after the Club had closed and the customers gone home, boys were free to do as they pleased in each other's beds.) Cleavon had intended to abide by the rule throughout the hours of training, but his lust got the better of him as he lay face-down on the bed -- his legs splayed, his ass raised up, his hand jacking his own cock -- with Billy thrusting his barely-pubescent cock into the man's hole. The effeminate master couldn't stop himself from whimpering with pleasure and pleading for the boy to keep fucking him. As Billy's pent-up seed spurted into Cleavon's bowels, the man reached his own orgasm - his third cum of the afternoon - then rolled over to envelop the boy in his arms.
In the late afternoon, an hour before sunset, Cleavon announced that training was finished for the day, and he instructed Billy to wash up and relax in preparation for the night's work. Wearing an outfit of ordinary clothes, and carrying the work costume of briefs and sleeveless shirt, he climbed the stairs to the boys' dormitory space in the fourth-floor attic of the building. It was a windowless room with a low ceiling, holding a dozen beds, with a simple coal stove in the center providing abundant warmth. All of the boys were there... a few napping on their beds, some of them playing cards, another group partaking of a pipe of smoke-weed... and two pairs of boys lying on beds, kissing and hugging with slow, graceful eroticism. Every one of the 11 boys was nude.
"Hey, Billy!" called out Seth, the oldest of the boys, as a cloud of smoke escaped his mouth and floated above his head. "Come on over and share my smoke-weed. First you gotta strip down, though. We always stay naked up here; that's our tradition. Your bed's that one yonder, and there's a box underneath for your stuff."
Billy was no longer shy about being nude in front of others. In recent days he'd been displayed naked to dozens of men who were strangers. With these other boys, it almost felt natural. Pulling off his clothes, he stashed them together with his skimpy costume beneath the bed and joined the others.
Seth had his back to him, and Billy noticed immediately that the 17-year-old's buttocks were bruised and colored a flaming red.
"What happened to you? Why were you whipped?" asked Billy.
"Oh, that's nothing. I had a 'special customer' this afternoon. He paid a premium to warm up my butt before I gave him my services. Mr. Nkomo don't let the 'specials' come in during regular hours, so I got my work done early on. When I take a whippin' like that, I don't have to serve any more customers for the rest of the day, and Master also gives me a good-size portion of smoke-weed. Not a bad trade off for the pain, eh? So come on over and help me smoke up my earnings. I've got enough to satisfy myself and still let each lad get lung-full off the pipe."
Billy took the bowl and inhaled carefully, still not accustomed to taking smoke into his lungs. After he handed the pipe back and was holding the smoke down, little Cupid came up to him and put his face close to Billy's.
"Breath it into my mouth when you let it go, OK? I want to get some more smoke, so's I'll be nice an' high before work starts."
Billy was amused at such words coming from a 9-year-old, and was perfectly willing to comply with the strange request. As he started to exhale the smoke toward the youngster's mouth, Cupid locked onto Billy's lips as if in an open-mouth kiss, inhaling the second-hand marijuana smoke. The little boy also wrapped his arms around Billy's back and snuggled against his body. When he was ready to exhale, Cupid passed what remained of the smoke back to Billy in the same manner as he'd received it.
"Mmmmm... you feel nice!" murmured Cupid as he rubbed against Billy like an affectionate cat. "Wanna go to my bed to kiss for a while?" Without waiting for Billy to reply, he took the 12- year-old's hand and led him back to a bunk. Feeling the effects of the cannabis almost immediately, Billy allowed the younger boy to take the lead as the two of them rolled languidly in each other's arms, tasting each other's tongues, arms and legs entwined. Billy was soon lost in a haze of intoxication and eroticism until Cupid suddenly wiggled free and hopped up.
"That was the bell. Gotta get ready for work. Come on," said the little boy.
As Billy's mind came back to the real world, he noticed that all the others were scurrying about too... washing their bodies with cloths dipped in a bowl of scented water, drying off, and putting on their work costumes. Although he had washed himself only an hour before, Billy went through the ritual again -- just as Cleavon had instructed -- running the washcloth over his face, his armpits, his feet, and his genitals... and taking particular care to scrub his anus clean. Then he put on his briefs and tight shirt and headed down the steps to the tavern room.
As the new boy in the brothel, Billy was the focus of interest among the regular patrons from the moment the first customer was let in the door at sunset. As prosperous men began congregating in the tavern, drinking ale or smoking pipe-weed, they called out for the pretty 12-year-old to sit on their laps or dance sensuously on the stage. In the course of the evening, he took six customers... more than the usual night's work. But Master knew he had a good money-maker and felt no compunction about working the boy hard.
Although each of the sessions was different, they all started with the same preliminaries: Payment by the customer and the assignment of a vacant room, stoking the fire, lighting the bed- side candles, and turning over the hourglass that would mark the duration of the purchased sexual services.
Billy's training had taught him that he should be guided first by the customers desires, taking the initiative only if the customer seemed ambivalent or passive. And indeed, some men knew exactly what they wanted him to do... an extended suck, kissing and hugging on the bed, and a fuck in their favorite position. Some of the customers desired to suck the young boy, though most did not.
Those who let Billy take the lead were treated to a full hour of sensual delight... lying back on the bed to receive full-body pleasuring from Billy's mouth and hands as the boy snuggled and sucked and slithered atop the man's body. Billy would finish a session with such a customer by straddling the man's hips and lowering his tight, lubricated anus onto the man's cock, riding up and down with the aim of prolonging the session until most of the sand had run through the hour-glass.
Mr. Nkomo made the determination of when the tavern door should be locked for the night... typically around midnight. On Billy's first night of work, the proprietor again took the new boy back to his room for the night. The other boys -- those not still serving a customer on the 2nd or 3rd floor -- ascended to the 4th floor quarters. Those with the inclination were free to engage in boy/boy play before sinking into well-earned sleep... singly or in the arms of a friend. Cleavon stayed on in the tavern to let the last of the customers out the door as they came back down the steps. He had one of the boys -- the 15-year-old piano player, named Jake -- stay with him in the tavern to pass the time until then. Afterwards, Jake spent the rest of the night in Cleavon's bed.
When Billy awoke with Nkomo late the next morning, the cycle began again... another round of morning sex with his master, a hearty meal with the other boys, several hours of sex-service training with Cleavon, and a time for leisure before work. A half-hour before sunset, however, a well-dressed military officer arrived at the doors of the brothel and was instantly granted entrance.
"Tell the proprietor that the Duke has arrived from Norfolk Town and will be patronizing your business shortly. He bids you assemble your boys for his inspection."
"Yes, sir. Right away!" said Cleavon as he ran off to quickly rouse the boys from the 4th floor and then tell Mr. Nkomo of the Duke's imminent arrival. Whenever the Duke patronized the Blue Boy Club he arrived early, taking his pick of the boys and settling in upstairs before the first regular customer arrived.
All 12 boys, freshly-washed and dressed in work costumes, finished assembling in the ground-floor tavern just before the Duke's small entourage came through the door. The ample-girthed Duke of Norfolk was dressed in a grandiose uniform of the finest material the current technology could produce. His two bodyguards were in standard military attire. And he was accompanied by two teenagers -- his own 14-year-old son, dressed in a fanciful facsimile of a naval uniform and acting rather shy... and the slave-boy Ganymede, wearing the loose-fitting, silky costume of an 18th century Arab sultan's harem-boy. Attached to the purple cloth-covered slave-collar around his neck was a slender leather leash that was held by the Duke as if he were walking a pet. The 13-year-old concubine did indeed resemble Billy to a remarkable degree. And he projected a cool self- assurance that belied his status as a life-term slave.
When the Duke and his party sat at one of the tables, Ganymede knelt beside his master, placidly resting his head on the Duke's lap, facing the man's crotch as the Duke stroked the beautiful boy's shoulder-length blond hair.
"Yesterday my son reached his 14th year," said the Duke. "I've determined he has reached an appropriate age for pursuing the recreation of a pleasure establishment. I had him sample a wench last night at a sporting house in Norfolk Town, and I think he should round out his experience with one of your comely boy- whores. Line up your lads for Jason to choose from. And when he's made his choice, I'll take one of the others up to a room to assist my concubine in serving me."
"It is a very special honor that you have come to my house, Your Highness," said Nkomo in his most obsequious manner; "and, as always, my lads are at your call.... and that of your son. Boys! Line up and show our distinguished visitors your charms."
The dozen brothel-boys stood side-by-side, and each began posing in a sexy manner. Most affected a feminine vampish look, tongue slithering across pouting lips. A few of the older boys struck more masculine poses with heavy-lidded erotic eyes. Several boys ran their fingers enticingly across their chests and down to their crotches, rubbing themselves erect. Others put their hands behind their heads to show off already-stiff cocks pressing out against their tight briefs or short pants.
The oldest of the boys - Seth - was dressed in an open shirt and a skimpy garment once known as a 'jockstrap'. He stood with hands on hips, affecting a masculine pose, his face inscrutable.
The Duke, his son, and Mr. Nkomo walked along the line of boys like army officers reviewing their troops. The ruler had no hesitation in fondling several boys who aroused his lust, stroking their hair, touching their bodies, sticking his hand inside their pants for a feel of their erections. His son blushed with embarrassment as he looked at the boys, but his eyes betrayed a hungry desire.
"Have your lads show themselves fully," instructed the Duke.
"Of course, Your Majesty," replied the proprietor and nodded to the boys.
Each of the 12 pulled off his clothing to display himself nude. Most of them executed the move with a practiced gracefulness, borne of innumerable instances of sexy stripping for a customer. Any boy whose penis wasn't already stiff quickly jacked it hard for inspection by the father's and son's lustful staring.
"Which do you fancy, Jason?" prompted the Duke.
"This one, Father," replied the boy, pointing to Billy. He spoke in a quiet voice but without hesitation.
The man sighed. He looked back at Ganymede, who had remained kneeling on the floor. The Duke's thoughts drifted back to the shouting and unpleasantness, less than a month previously, when he had discovered his concubine in bed with his son, and had broken up their secret love affair. The Duke has devised a suitable punishment for the young lovers, and had been assured that such insolence would never recur. But the Duke was not at all surprised that Jason would choose the boy-whore who so closely resembled his beautiful Gany.
"Very well," said the father. "Take him upstairs for some fun." And then, turning to Nkomo, he added "And I'll take the young one here," gesturing to Cupid. "He'll do fine for a threesome with me and Ganymede". Cupid grinned broadly, honored by the selection and excited at the prospect of working a 3-way with the beautiful concubine.
No money was paid by the Duke. A gift for Mr. Nkomo would be forthcoming from the royal court if the Duke had been satisfied with the pleasuring, and it would be substantially more valuable than the fee for a boy. Before Billy led his 14-year-old customer upstairs, Cleavon whispered in his ear that there should be no time limit on the session, and that he should be especially attentive to accommodating the young customer's desires.
Billy, who was still stark naked, led the way to a bedroom. There he stoked the coal fire as usual and went to light the candles. But the Duke's son stopped him.
"I wish for the room to remain darkened."
"Of course, master."
"I want you to be...." The teenager faltered, murmuring in an unsure voice. "I want to pretend you are Gany... that boy who was with my father. Do you understand?"
"Yes, master," Billy replied, though in fact he didn't.
"First off, don't call me 'master'. I'm Jase, and you're Gany. We're lovers. Come to my arms and kiss me."
"OK... Jase," said Billy in a friendly voice, getting into the game. As he embraced the older boy and flicked his tongue against Jason's mouth, Billy also began to unfasten and remove the youth's clothing. In a short time, the Duke's son was also naked, and the two were hugging and tongue-kissing with building passion, stroking each other's cocks in excited lust.
"Oh, Gany....! I still love you with all my heart... I'm so sorry for what happened. I never would have hurt you like that, but what could I do? I hate my father for making me whip you!" And with those words, he sank to his knees. His mouth enveloped Billy's stiff penis, and he began sucking with reverence and passion.
Billy had no idea, of course, what he'd been talking about. He didn't know that Jason had been required to take a leather strap to the concubine's ass... compelled to whip Ganymede viciously for the crime of illicit love. The guilt had burned into Jason's soul; it was he who had seduced his father's slave and had schemed to find times when they could be alone together to make love. The whipping had been harsh, because the Duke had demanded it be so, but Jason's psychic pain in wielding the punishment strap was at least as bad as the physical pain that Ganymede had borne.
"Pay me back, Gany," whispered Jason looking up into Billy's eyes. "Get the belt from my trousers and redden my ass, like I deserve. Then fuck me with your beautiful cock. Fuck me like you did those times before... make it last forever!"
Billy felt his face blush at what he was being told to do, but Cleavon's instructions had been unambiguous. He was to serve the young customer's desires completely.
"You shouldn't have hurt me like that, Jase," Billy ad-libbed, as he pulled the thick leather belt from the boy's pants. "I loved you and you betrayed me," he added, using the clues that his customer had provided. "Bend over with your hands resting on the bed. Raise up your ass and receive your punishment."
Billy could feel his erection throbbing as he grasped the buckle in his palm and wrapped the belt around his hand, looking down at the plump tan ass cheeks of the over-privileged aristocratic youth. He felt a strange exhilaration as he raised the belt up and brought it whistling down.
End of Part 4 (Want more? Write to me at bil47_new@yahoo.com)