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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RancH HanDs 14 a continuation of `CoMPany payLoaD' WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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When the clock struck eleven, most, wherever they were, about the campus of Elemental Habitat, had had enough partying or whatever after hours activity they had involved themselves in. Looking ahead to midnight, some had already spent their load and wanted to just crash, with their significant one by their side. However, where some were winding down their evening, others were getting their groove on. Such was the case, when Nolan and Hewy wound up their grass-sitting.
Hewy had admired Serkan, all night, under the lights of the makeshift grassy stadium, watching guys get dirty tackling each other, his fellow countryman running back and forth to make sure he and Nolan had everything which pleased them.
Several times, when Serkan wasn't in their presence, Nolan would turn to Hewy and remark, "Cute guy!"
"Yes," Hewy returned, but an altogether different "Yes!" the two hailing the `blue speedos' for making a touchdown, Nolan following Hewy, from staring at his hairy legs, jumping from the stadium blanket to eye level.
Nolan joining in on the hullabaloo, says, "You can really get into this?"
Smiling, because Hewy had his suspicions Nolan was forcing himself to have a good time on his behalf, "Among other things!"
That smile, Nolan knew Hewy's response had nothing to do with football!
"More water!" Serkan says, holding two bottles.
Economically, the habitat looked for ways to be conservative, means to recycle and not continually rob the environment, so it took less of a toll on one's dog tag-debiting to refill and reuse.
"Sip slowly!"
Nolan, reading into Serkan's direction, "And why would that be, Serkan?"
Smiling, because his heart had the biggest sway towards making the two happy, he wanted to keep them in good humor, but for himself, it was defeat on his mind, "I have no more credits."
Nolan and Hewy gaze at each other. Farthest from their minds is whether the blue speedos' are going to cinch the game away from the green speedos', Hewy taking on the alpha role to ask, "All night have you been buying us water and snacks with your own tag?"
Sheepishly, Serkan says, "Um, yes. I have, but it is okay. I get more soon."
Nolan saw it, wondered if Hewy felt the same. Putting a hand to Serkan's shoulder, he says, "Serkan, you're one in a million."
Hewy, trying to keep the atmosphere light, "Maybe even trillion!"
As quickly as the football game started, cheers ended it, them missing the last playoff. A mass exit, Serkan excused himself from the trio's tender moment, grabbing four corners of the stadium blanket and wrapping everything up in it, slinging it over his shoulder.
"I've got that," Hewy goes to take it from Serkan.
"No. It okay. I am here for you," Serkan replies.
Nolan whimsically thinks, if he wasn't bound to Hewy, this would be the perfect mate for him, but he wasn't so sure he was into bonding with a `slave' for life.
On the other hand, it was like Hewy reading Nolan's thoughts, regarding the `slave' attitude. Role-playing out a fantasy, making a dude slave to cock-sucking, ass-fucking, or some kinky play, that was cool, but earlier on today he was looking forward to a nice quiet evening, just the two of them.
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Being a gentleman, Flick accompanied Denis back to the Verts. Of course, he had offered up staying with him in his suite, back by the studio, a garden cottage originally built for a group of musicians, but rarely used because the `Cowbulls' were the first bands of guys ever rounded up together.
Arriving at the Verts, room A-2, Flick hints, "If your boyfriend isn't in, maybe I could come in and say goodnight?" He laughs off his nervous statement.
Denis didn't have the chance to answer right away, punching the digit code in, room number, followed by his buzz number, thus, 2689, the door on auto-open.
The place silent, Denis says, "Terry must've gone to bed."
Being nervy, Flick brushes right by Denis, their chests clinking, him saying lightheartedly, "I don't hear any breathing!" Too, he wasn't unabashed with flicking the light switch, reporting, after seeing the two empty bunks, "Nope! The place is deserted!"
Frowning, Denis stood there.
Sensing disappointment, yet not disappointed himself, Flick says, "Sorry `bout that." Hoping, yet not in a hurtful sense, "You don't think he's... like... visiting someone else?"
Taking it to heart, Denis replies, "Someone else? Who? We just arrived here. Who else does Terry know?"
Flick understood. Arriving here, he was a loner, but it wasn't long before he got to know some guys. Soon, his guitar was key in getting him into employment at the recording studio. Secondary was his talent at churning out hit songs. Therefore, he could relate, "Know? My first two days here I got to know at least twenty dudes!"
Then terror hit, Denis asking, "You don't think Terry is..."
Filling in the blank, Flick asks, "What else do you think Terry is up to at midnight?" he gave the ballpark timing.
"I suppose I should wait for him," Denis sat on the bottom bunk.
Flick had had a couple of beers, his thought slurred a little, but still had a rational way of thinking, especially knowing how things could go on around the habitat, "Taking it from me," Flick flops down next to Denis, reaches around and tags him on the opposite shoulder, brotherly hand meant for comforting, "don't get into deluding yourself. This boyfriend of yours is someplace else and I bet he's not alone."
"You're wrong!" Denis shrugged off the caring hand, standing. As he did, he bumps his head on the wooden frame of the bed above. "Oww-w-w!"
"Shit, are you okay, Denis?" Flick follows, except not bashing his head.
"No!" In totally disregard of his small clash with wood, Denis pouts, "Where's Terry? He's supposed to be here!"
Thinking it a possibility, Terry might have been here, Flick says, "Maybe he waited here and when you didn't show, went looking for you."
"That's gotta be it."
Flick says, "Probably he went out looking, could be at Atlantis or someplace else, looking for you."
"Maybe we should go back to Atlantis and look for him?"
Figuring, hanging out with Denis in his room, with `Terry' on Denis' mind, wasn't doing him any justice, "I think that's a good idea."
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"Here's the works!" David says, upending the same back he had to empty out for security at habitat check in.
Zoning in on David's description, Dillon picks up the two metal devices, "This them?"
"Want to try them out?" David's churning balls were all for it!
"It's after midnight," Dillon drops both hands, "I was thinking more of a relaxed activity?"
David smiles, replies, "My tongue's not tired!"
It didn't take much to strip off speedos and tee shirts, kick their sandals off, Dillon leading, David chasing along, as they headed for bed.
David jokes, "I guess Art won't mind us using his bed!"
"Right," Dillon says, "I forgot he's not here anymore. I wonder how the new guy is?"
With inside information, although David was a bit perturbed at Demont and Trystan walking in on his' action, he could relate to Dillon what he knew, "Trust me... Demont has a big, fat tool and he's good' at using it!"
Climbing in between the sheets, Dillon asks, "Oh really? How would that go?"
Of his own desires pending, which at this moment, kindled and starting to draw sparks, David cut it short, telling Dillon how Demont shoved Bart del Forte up against the sink and plowed him ruthlessly, shoving his fuck tool into Bart's unprimed ass.
Dillon, with David's hand already on his tool, making it nice and firm, asks, "And how do you like it David? Primed or unprimed?"
Smiling, in the dim lit room, small cascade of light coming from the jon, David says, "Any way I can get it!"
Throwing big hint, Dillon replies, "I could sure use some `getting', myself!"
Whether Dillon picked up on it or not, it was David's hunger from the moment they hit the sheets.
Like being paired off all their lives, the two moved into position, Dillon spreading his legs wide, David on knees, pouncing his front down on the mattress, his wide open mouth falling right into place!
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On the way back to Nolan and Hewy's quarters, they were headed for the shared room at the Arboretum.
Serkan interrupts their journey, "Where we go?"
Nolan looks at Hewy, Hewy back at Nolan and remain in silence, till Nolan says, "Must've been the blur of the blue and green?"
"`Sgot to be," Hewy replies.
Both realizing somebody was on the ball, realizing they were headed towards their former residence, Hewy says, "Want to lead the way, Serkan?"
Serpentining their way back through the corridors, they pass by Geoff's room, Nolan joking, "I wonder what Geoff is up to at this time of the night?" he laughs.
"We find out?" Serkan asks, knocking on Geoff's door.
"No, no, no Serkan!" Nolan yells out too late.
However, it's not phasing Hewy one bit, him laughing, saying, "Probably paddling some guy's ass!"
"Funny, Hewy, real funny," Nolan replies.
"He not there," Serkan delivers the news, no one coming to the door.
"Obviously," Nolan says.
Hewy suggests, both in jest, but in probability, "Maybe he's tied up at the moment?" He laughs.
Suddenly the door opens a crack, enough to fit a man's bod through, a hand reaches out, grabs Nolan by the shirt, reeling him in.
"Ge-e-e-eoff!" Nolan squeals.
"What we do?" Serkan asks Hewy, the two standing there.
If Geoff had meant for the door to be closed and locked, it would not have stood ajar.
Hewy says of it, "I'd say that is an invitation?"
Standing behind Hewy, as if a shield, Serkan follows him in. Holding onto the sides of Hewy's shirt, hands clutching, Serkan only exposes himself, looking around the side of his shield, when Hewy says, "Oh now... isn't that a pretty sight!"
There was Geoff's kitchen bounty, Martyn Atlan-Tonnan Tavares, lying on the bed, ropes around wrists and tied to the wrought iron head grilling, and in `Japanese' fashion, rope enunciating his hairy pecs, crisscrossing his stomach, a square pattern of roping making boundaries around a hairy bellyhole, tugging with resistance against a jute cock ring, each ballsac nicely configured with bulging essence.
Coining Hewy's phrase, yet expressing his own feelings, Serkan says, "Sure is pretty sight!"
Nolan jokes, "Punch Geoff out for being so rough on me, Hewy!"
In the raw, Geoff stood there as alpha' met alpha', Hewy responding to his mate's notion, placing the back of his hand up to Geoff's hairy stomach, making a small indentation and rubbing knuckles up and down the furry carpet, "Let me know when you are up for some fair play!"
"Depends on what I'm up against," Geoff says, going for Hewy's tee shirt.
Allowing Geoff to strip him, Hewy replies, "Up against you? I can take it."
Suddenly they are both distracted and putting their gut-punching contest asides, their heads turn to where the slurping sound is coming from.
Geoff jumps the gun, "Hey!"
"What?" Serkan honestly pops his head off Martyn's roped up cock, "What I do?"
"I to-old you!" Nolan stresses to Serkan, standing there with arms folded over his middle.
Again Serkan, out of playing Geoff up, "What I do?"
Hewy assesses the situation, "You don't suck another man's slave without permission, Serkan?"
Because Geoff was feeling it, a scenario panning out here, he adds, "Without expecting full punishment for his actions?"
Jumping off the bed, leaving Martyn in a state of whimpering, Serkan says in hurried fashion, "Punishment?" Stripping off his tee shirt, "Okay. Now you talkin'," he strips off his speedo, "How you want me?"
Geoff asks, not Nolan, but Hewy, "Is he for real?" Hot that it wasn't giving Geoff's balls an extra kick.
"Bargain you here," Hewy proposes.
"Bargain?" Geoff replies.
Not that Nolan was an accomplice to the scene at this point, Hewy replies, "You let Nolan and I go in peace and we leave you a token of our appreciation!"
Serkan wasn't exactly getting it, "What you mean Hewy?"
Getting into it, Geoff tells Serkan, "Shut up boy! You talk only when I tell you!"
Nolan and Geoff go way back in friendship, knowing Geoff is pouring on the dramatics, but renders anyway, "Scares me!"
However, Serkan is eating it up, "Yes, sir. I do what you say sir. Anything you want sir or else you give me bad punishment. If I not quiet, you go and whip your slave!"
It threw Geoff for a loop. Right now the pulsing in his loins was confusing. Sure, he thought Martyn on the bed, all tied up in Japanese rope bondage, his now primed cock sticking up straight to the ceiling being held in place by rope snuggled around the base, a small amount of goo released by Martyn's excitement was provoking his juices to flow, or could it be the twenty-one year old, 5'8", skinny `slave' in front of him, yearning with such a want?
Making his selection prominent, Geoff replies, "You better get moving before I change my mind!"
Nolan smiled at Geoff's wink. He adds, "And thanks for not raping my ass, kind sir!"
Leaving, they hear Serkan go on and on about not only Geoff raping `his' ass, but making it sound like the sky's the limit for anything else.
"I feel sorry for Serkan in a way."
"How's that go?" Nolan questions Hewy as they are leaving.
"He doesn't seem to have any purpose of goal, other than serving people or being `hurt'."
Nolan replies, "I sense it myself."
With conviction, Hewy says, "I'm going to make it my goal to figure things out for him."
Right there in the hallway, Nolan gets sentimental. It's how it goes, when a man in his position, one who rules above so many, sees all kinds and with getting cuddly, "It's been a journey, this past year. I'm kinda glad it's wound up the way it has."
"Kinda?" Hewy summons up with question.
Detaching himself, he says, "Race ya to the room!"
Up at the corner, Nolan says, "C'mon, c'mon. Make an effort to catch up at least!"
Catching up, Hewy took his sweet time and standing there next to the love of his life, the race ended, wordless, the two get cuddly all over again.
%
Demont was surprised, to say the least, how his position as new security manager could cut into personal time. Little did he realize, even though minor skirmishes could be put asunder by the wisdom of his security officers, some relied on calling in and asking for advice. Twice, he got his cock nestled into Heath's ass, twice plucking it out, because business and pleasure wasn't mixing for him.
Then, to top it off, the perimeter guards had caught a truckload of curious rednecks, out for a ride after getting drunk at a local tavern. Demont couldn't lie, description of one of hoodlums, local college boy, kept what Heath had built up, kept him stiff. Worst part, Demont had to get fully clothed, at least outward appearance, in order to go lend a hand.
As he was ready to leave the security shed, who should he run into...
"Oh hi. I thought if it was okay, I would..." but Marco Donzanti, seeing Demont on his way out, "I guess now isn't the right time."
Even though the confrontation in Nolan's office happened today, it took a minute for Marco to register. Making the connection, especially the letters S&M', he wasn't about to let a customer' get away and figuring it would be meaningful to this twenty-one year old, he steps right into role, "I'll be back and when I am, I want you stripped down and on your knees, all ready to service me boy!"
"Wow!" Marco said, watching Demont suddenly ignore him and walk away. Then, even though he was never in the service, saluted Demont's `ghost' and tried the doorknob to his quarters. "Oh shit!" he says, as if seeing a real ghost, but instead, Heath tied almost eagle-spread to the bed, the one little discrepancy, legs pulled up to his wrists, ankles tied off.
Heath was expecting Demont, but upon seeing Marco, "I remember you!"
"You do? When?" Marco comes closer to the bed.
"You honestly don't remember?"
"No," Marco searched his memory banks for a clue, taking in consideration Heath's face, bod and yonder.
"Me and you. First time I got into trouble."
"Still doesn't ring a bell. Say, doesn't it hurt to be tied like that?"
"Probably be more pleasurable if Demont was still inside, instead of being called away."
"Tell me something," Marco asks with reluctance, "did it like `hurt' when he fucked you?"
"At first, but I'm used to having other things, not cocks, worked up my ass. Ever have a buttplug inserted in your ass?"
"Um," the twenty-one year old gulps down some spit, "not really. Never had anything put there."
"Cool! Demont will love playing with you. He likes it nice and tight." Even though the position he's left in, Heath laughs and says, "Like what man doesn't!"
"Uh, yeah," Marco fakes a laugh, "right." Then curious, "Mind if I take a look?" his finger is almost in Heath's ass!
"Sure. I don't think Demont would know if you `touched'."
Kneeling on the bed, curiosity began to grow faster than he could imagine and in no time his index finger, pointing, touched Heath's ass.
"Oh come on, Marco. Get into it. Use both hands!"
Leaning, Marco's hands caress the sides of Heath's butt, commenting, "Smooth."
"Feels good. Hurry up and get to the good part!"
`Good part?' Marco wondered. In doing so, he leans over, over Heath's balls to see if maybe Heath meant his cock.
Same moment, in walks Demont, saying "What the fuck you doing there, boy?"
"Oops!" Marco says, losing his balance, falling forwards and getting more than he bargained for, his first time studying a dude's ass! Regaining balance, Marco has a disgusted look on his face, saying, "Oh man that tasted nasty!"
First time for everything, instead of being cross at Marco for not being stripped down and on his knees, Demont laughs his ass off, saying, "Don't stop on my account!"
Standing there, remembering his instructions, Marco strips off his shirt, saying, "Stop... what?"
"Eating my ass out, stoopid!" Heath yells over.
"Who told you you could speak?"
"Akk-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k!" Rang out, Demont's hand giving Heath's globes the biggest wallop!
"Damn!" Marco stood there, holding his shirt like it was a cuddly teddy bear, to his chest.
Then, Demont grabbing Heath's balls, squeezing, barks, "Did you coax this boy into eating your ass out?"
"I wasn't eating his ass out!"
Saying so put Marco on the spot, Demont losing his grip, "Oh really? And why do you still have your clothes on, boy?"
Going at it, Demont, if he hasn't been through a lot of this bdsm shit, could have broke out in laughter, but kept his cool, watching Marco behave in fast motion, tackling his belt buckle, almost tripping over his pants, trying to get out of them with his sneakers still on, but no problem with stepping out of his tightey-whiteys.
"Ready to please me, are you boy?"
"Sure am sir!" Marco made his best impression of a soldier, standing there at attention, his 7c not totally hard, but getting there.
"Good. As I'm stripping, it would please me to watch you finish eating out Heath's hole?"
This is the part Marco wasn't sure of. His tongue tasting Heath's asshole was totally an accident, however he knew the drill, had done his research, knowing he had a choice here, either oblige or take punishment. He verbally weighs his options, "Um, like if I didn't, what would you be doing to me?"
Playing with Marco, Demont says, "Hmm," scratching his after hours shadow, "Nice abs. You work out?"
Proudly, Marco says, "At the gym, every chance I get."
"Nice. Yeah, you've got a choice. How about if you decline my order, I have you kneel on your knees and put your hands behind your head..."
Thinking that's it, Marco says, "No problem," he gets down on his knees and puts his hands behind his head, figuring a disciplinary position.
Standing in front of Marco, he says, "What's punishment without pain?"
Marco's eyes were as white as saucers, him stuttering, "Like... um... what're... you... gonna do?"
A little swing to his foot, Demont could have very well started laughing his ass off, but this was way too much fun seeing Marco sweat, as he related, "Ten kicks in the abs should do it?"
Nervous, Marco hurries his response, jumping to his feet, "Uh, I like change my mind, okay?"
Not only does Demont laugh, but Heath as well. It earns Heath another swat in the balls, but if anyone was paying attention, it only kept Heath hard, a bead of come let loose from the tip!
"Nah. It's late. I think I prefer my two slave boys working me over!"
As Demont opens the front of his buttoned uniform, Marco says, "Oh man. I could sure get my tongue on that!" he licks his lips.
"Get on it then, while you strip me down boy!"
Lifting Demont's shirt over his shoulders, Marco peers at the hairy chest and stomach like looking over the landscape of a painting.
"What's keeping you boy?"
"There's so `much' of it. I don't know where to start!"
"How about here!" Demont forces Marco's lips to his left nip.
Wondering who is getting more out of it, Demont's other hand drifts down to below the waist. No doubt, Marco is getting a lot more out of sucking on Demont's nip, a hand to help firm him up!
"I'm getting kind of hungry myself?" Heath knew he would get another smack, welcomed if anything, because he loved getting his balls slapped around. However, with another motive, he also drew off of the newcomer's reactions.
He was surprised, to say the least, Demont instructing Marco, "Do me a favor and go over and take care of him?"
"Me?" Marco wipes the saliva from his mouth. "Like what do you mean?"
"Take care of him," Demont toys. "You know, discipline him for me."
"I can't hurt him!"
"Oh for chrissakes, Marco. Get over here and punch me in the balls! What's the big deal?"
Standing there, seeing Heath's balls all red from Demont's hand, Marco says, "I can't hurt you."
Demont, stripping the rest of his clothes off, kept his cock in shape, drawing off the intense conversation.
"Sure you can. Just make a fist and punch me."
Marco stand his ground, "I can't punch you in the balls and that's it!"
Turning his head, Heath confronts, "Demont, make Marco an offer."
It was a game, Heath and Demont into it, Marco the unsuspecting player.
"A wager, is it?"
Standing there, fully in the buff, Marco stood there with mouth wide open, gasping at the size of Demont, between his legs. "Damn! How big are you Demont!"
Ignoring the question, even though he heard it, Demont says, "Let's see, I think five punches in the balls, or," he distracts Marco away from his pubes with a fake slap to the cheek, enough to break the trance, "five lashes with my belt on your back?"
Having something else on his mind, Marco rearranges the words as he understands them, "You want me to punch Heath in the balls or else you're going to whip my back?"
Dumbfounded, Demont addresses Heath, "Isn't that what I said?"
Heath gets an idea on how to double the fun, "Maybe he doesn't know how to punch a guy in the balls. Maybe you should give him a demonstration, Demont?"
Marco could pretty well guess. It didn't take a rocket science to know how to make a fist and plunge it into the target. However, to buy time, he went with, "Uh yeah, I don't really get it."
"Hmm," Demont pondered. "Not in this position though."
Marco stepped aside, watching. At times his eyes were drawn to Demont, walking around, his bigness swinging to and fro, bouncing up and down. Other times he focused on Demont untying Heath from the bed. Then, taking another length of rope, throwing it up over what probably was a support beam of an old barn, then retying Heath's wrists together. Grabbing the loose end of the rope, Demont pulls on it until Heath's arms rise in the air.
"Oh man this is gonna be so fuckin' hot!"
Having Demont said it, would have been okay to Marco's ears, but hearing Heath laugh danger in the face, Marco can't hold back, "You're gonna really love having your balls bashed?"
Demont turns on Marco, "And exactly what are you here for?"
He came tonight with a list in his mind, Marco drawing off what was said earlier, "What you said about whipping me, it kind of turns me on, but instead of a belt, do have one of those flogger thingees?"
With Heath on his teepee-toes, Demont attends to Marco, "Turn around and put your hands behind your head."
Pirouetting, Marco puts both hands to the back of his fashionable hairstyle.
Tapping Marco's left heel with his foot, then right, Demont instructs, "Spread'em."
Marco waddles until he's a little more than shoulder length width. Expecting pain, he closes his eyes, feeling Demont's hand fondle his shoulders, then the blades, big hands flat against his back.
One hand still checking out the smooth back, Demont's other hand ventures lower.
Oh my god!' Marco thinks to himself, feeling a finger painting' from the small of his back, down his ass, until it's pushed against, entering. `Oh god!' he squints his eyes in anticipation, even though it's a finger, not a big cock.
Heath was watching the whole thing and a devilish feeling coming over him, just as Demont is ready to poke, "Hey Demont, did you forget about my balls?"
Still in the position, Marco looks in the little triangle of his arm, feeling Demont lose his touch on him.
"What are you trying to do? Show off, boy?"
`How did he know?' Heath thinks it, before expelling the truth, "Yes sir," and the whole truth, "so Marco can see the punishment my balls can take!"
An exhibitionist at heart, Heath loved showing off for others, perhaps the reason a smile remained on his face.
"I see."
Thinking he was out of the woods for now, Marco was wrong as hell, Demont ordering, "Break that position and get over here boy."
As Marco dropped his arms and walks over, Demont is squatting down, tying one of Heath's ankles off to the side, the rope around a wooden beam.
"Do the same to his other foot, boy."
"Okay," Marco replies, picking up a piece of rope.
Heath, looking down, says, "He's sir' to you boy'!" Not paying attention, Heath howls in pain, "Ak-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-oh-h-h-h-h-h-oh-h-oh!"
Slowly, the pinch Demont gave to the end of his cock hurt like hell and slowly transformed into pleasure. Sure, it deflated Heath's cock some, but it then `filled right up' again, shaft sticking out almost straight.
"Damn, that's got to hurt!"
Demont only smiled, thinking it's only a matter of time, pertaining to Marco.
"This okay," marking Heath's words, "sir?" Marco asks of Heath's other foot tied off.
Surveying from standing in the median of Heath's bound bod, Demont doesn't want to praise too much, "It'll do."
Standing there next to Demont, Marco assesses, "I'd like that someday, except minus the ball stuff."
Heath boldly says, "Don't knock it till you try it, Marco," then laughs.
"Might be fun if..." Demont stutters, on Marco's behalf, rubbing his bristly chin.
"What?" Marco takes the bait.
"While you're punching his balls, I punch his ass!"
All for it, Heath yells, "Hell yeah!"
"No way!" Marco says, at the reality of his fist to Heath's big balls. "I don't know how, remember?"
"No problem," Demont says in a way which seems like he's letting Marco off the hook. Opening a closet door, he leaves it wide open so as Marco can't miss it, the hooks with various whipping implements hanging from them. "I think I know a way of having you learn real quick!"
With mixed feelings, Marco stood there, looking beyond Heath's awesome bod. No longer was his mind on bashing Heath's balls, but his own psyche, thinking of `what it would be like if...'
"Ah, here it is," Demont takes a flogger, but instead of using it on Marco, raises it to their go between.
Marco is surprised, when Demont applies it to Heath's back.
Instead of a cry of pain, Heath shouts, "Ugh-h-h-h-oh fuckin` yeah!" Second lash, "Mm-m!" the sharp response comes from Heath's mouth. Then, startling to Marco, Heath says, "More please, sir!"
Marco just wonders, is Heath experiencing what he always figured being whipped on the back with a flogger could be? When he was in high school, he would try flinging a belt over his shoulder or around his ribs, but he knew it wasn't the same as having someone else doing it. With this part of the whole scenario before him, he stops Demont after lash number nine, "Hey, do you think I can try?"
"Might be fun," Demont says, turning the flogger over to Marco.
"No, I meant do you think you can use it on me? On my back?"
Like nothing touched his back, Heath says, "What? And take all the fun away from me?"
Deep down in his balls, Demont's mind was working with his whole biological system, conjuring up the perfect scene. An hour ago his head was ready to hit the pillow, but with all that's transpired, he was fresh as the morning dew.
Marco addresses, "Um, like if you haven't noticed Heath, I'm hard too?" he holds his hardness on the palm of his hand.
"Well, looks like we'll have to do something about that!"
It had started, Demont slapping Marco's hand away from his own cock, telling him he hadn't a right to touch it, his cock and balls no longer belonging to him.
It took all of six minutes, Marco standing, watching Demont take Heath out of his bondage, wondering what he was up to and how it would concern himself.
Heath standing there for a second next to Marco, he asks, "What' he doing, Heath?"
Giggling, even after the almost ten lashes across his back with the flogger, Heath replies, "Who knows what lurks in the mind of a mad man!"
"You're kidding. He's not going to..."
"Nah," Heath places a reassuring hand on Marco's shoulder, "trust me. Demont's not out to maim us. Only to give us a good time, give us what we want."
"How does he know what I want?"
Heath replies, "You don't or won't know until you're all bound up and ready to roll!"
At that point, Demont began delving out the instruction, ordering Heath and Marco to stand facing each other. He marveled at nearly the same height, Marco about two inches shy of Heath's 6'2 stature. Though, where their anatomy was concerned, there could be leeway for error.
"Arms out to the sides, boys!"
Following through, the two stare into each others eyes, smiling as their arms touched, straight out to their sides. Marco broke off their staring, feeling rope on his wrist.
"What tha?" he voices opinion over not only his own wrist being bound, but Heath's wrist fastened to his own.
Watching Demont walk over to the his left side, Heath's right, he wasn't at all taken aback over their wrists being bound together.
"Now boys... get ready to take flight!"
Marco nervous, Heath whispers, "Take it easy. Remember what I said."
Marco tried remaining calm, but it was the first time the twenty-one year old ever experienced his bound arms forced into the air by rope bondage. Somehow though, it was a bit more comforting having Heath's arms heading in the same direction.
"Oh-h!" Marco's eyes shot to Heath's, Heath returning the gaze, a result of their pubes touching each other.
"Told you not to worry, didn't I?" Heath said, himself getting mighty horny, feeling Marco's cock and balls meld with his own.
With a couple of inches difference in their height, Marco, not attuned to the bondage fetish, says out loud as he tries to see his own feet, "Okay, Demont, I'm like almost off my toes!" Then, his attention went right to Heath's face, feeling his chest and stomach wobbling, a reaction to Heath's giggling.
"You think it's funny, do you boy?" they head Demont's bellowing voice.
"Oh!" Heath shouts into Marco's face, Marco's bod being taken backwards a little, resulting from the lash with the flogger to Heath's back.
He expected to hear complaint from Heath.
However, contrary, Heath says, "Felt hot. Extra hot sharing it with you!"
If it were his back, which he didn't doubt it could be coming soon, he might have been petrified, but being it Heath's bod swayed against his, Marco couldn't argue, "Yeah. Not bad."
Then, because of the conversation, a no-no, Marco inhales deeply, like a drag of cola through a straw, Demont turning the flogger on his back.
"Nice, huh?" Heath asks Marco.
"I wouldn't exactly call it that!" He did fess up to himself, if it had been his only bod bound up to the beams, a different feeling might have come over him.
"You boys'll learn!"
"Learn? What are we supposed to learn?"
Instead of attitude in the negative, against how a slaveboy should act, Demont was entertained by the soft-spoken conversing, a turn on, working two boys at the opposite ends of the bdsm experience. However, this flogger business was kid's stuff, him deciding to take things to the next level.
"What tha?" Marco gulped, when his right leg was pulled out to the sides, creating a vacuum of cool air to rush in between his legs.
Trying to lighten up Marco, Heath replies, "Eh, it's nothing. Demont's probably setting us up for some `cbt'."
"What's that?" Marco asks, trying to look down, when Demont yanks his right leg, Heath's legs, to the outside beam.
"Cock and ball torture? Trust me. It's like heaven to the nads!"
"Torture? I don't know about that, Heath. And like my cock and balls?"
With calm, Heath says, "You trusted me when he first trussed you up to me, right?"
"Yeah, but..."
To help fortify that trust, whereas their they were almost cheek to cheek, Heath smooshes his lips up to Marco's face, "You still do, don't you?"
"I guess." But then, Demont handling his balls, "Like oh my god!"
"Feels cool," Heath shows a toothy grin.
Exact opposite, horror on Marco's face, "What's he doing?"
Still a cocky smile on Heath's lips, "Making us one?"
"Huh?" Marco replies, feeling the presence of hands fall off.
"Tied our balls together?"
"Our balls?" Marco tests, by moving his hips, which wasn't the wisest thing to do. "Owch!"
"Oh baby," Heath replies, "don't stop! It was just starting to feel good!"
Next thing Marco notices, "There's like something `wet'..."
"Sorry `bout that. I always have lots of precum when my balls are being played with."
Next thing Marco hears, which festers, with thoughts in his mind, like `what have I gotten myself into?', responds to Demont's announcement of, "Ready to play ball, boys?"
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Copyright 2011 T. Chase McPhee
`CoMPany payLoaD' - RancH HanDs may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.