Cowboy Gabriel's Sport by Fobert Halstead subkodak25@gmail.com
Chapter One
So there I was, stark naked and shaved bare from my neck down, riding in a comfortable limo with Cowboy Gabriel, on the way to his house which happens to be only about 20 minutes from the college I attend I'd just survived a harrowing weekend, my first weekend as a fully grown 21-year- old. I felt like I'd been snatched from the jaws of a ravenous lion and was only now beginning to stop trembling with fear once Gabriel told me about the fate I had escaped. If you're interested, you can read all about it in the story entitled "Terry Takes It," chapter six.
That's who I am—Terry. Horny, submissive, and obviously not capable of looking out for my own best interests, as you'll find out if you read the other story. Let's just say for now that I'm safe at last even though I'm riding in a limo naked with this man I begged to train me as his slave. His name is Gabriel, one of the hottest men I've ever seen: blond hair mostly hiding under his cowboy hat, blazing blue eyes, and a smile which makes me melt. He's also the first Dom I've met who isn't hell-bent on destroying me and turning me into nothing but an object that exists solely for the pleasure of some depraved sadists.
Last night I went to a BDSM club known as the "Hunt." It was my 21st birthday and I ended up being battered and demeaned by some of the most sinister men I ever could have met. Like I said, I'm obviously not capable of looking out for my own best interests. Thank God those evil bastards decided I was not a suitable candidate for them; they were looking to enslave some poor kid who would hate everything they planned to do to him, not someone like me who was a true submissive and also somewhat masochistic. Like I said, check out the end of the other story if you want all the gory details.
Somehow I'd been "rescued" for all that and delivered, naked and bound, to this guy named Gabriel who filled me on what they planned to do to me. As he said, I'd "dodged a bullet." He explained that true BDSM is always "safe, sane and consensual," and that's why they decided to toss me aside. They wanted a victim who would not consent to what they planned to do to him.
So anyway, after I begged him to "train" me as his slave. Once Gabriel decided he would "adopt" me as a novice slaveboy, he marked me with his piss and made me stick my fingers into his piss it as it flowed from his fucking gorgeous cock and then put my fingers in my mouth so I could "taste him." He was kind enough to promise me that I wouldn't have to drink any more . . . at least NOT YET, he says, so the little taste I got is just highly symbolic but rather pungent, I must say. Fine. I'm not complaining. The alternative would have been a hell of a lot worse.
He had coaxed me to piss myself while I was sitting there naked and bound to my seat. After he finished pissing all over me, he summoned a team of rather eager slave boys to clean me up enough so I could ride in the limo without stinking it up. He made it a point to show me how happy those boys were in their leather collars, face masks and penis gags which kept them from speaking while they cleaned me up. I could tell that two of them had recently been thrashed and that one actually had cane welts across his ass, and yet they were all pretty cheerful, all things considered. Gabriel explained that they were having a good time, and that all BDSM slaves were supposed to be enjoying the things that happened to them. "Were you really having fun when they were doing what they did to you?" he asked me, and I realized that although I was kind of turned on by it all, the truth was that I wasn't having any fun at all; basically, I was just terrified and tried to convince myself that being terrified was all part of the scene and that I just had to put up with it.
I had maks on my body as well because the men who'd been "inspecting me" back at the Hunt had made sure I realized that that boys like me deserved to be punished. I'm not sure whether or not Gabriel agrees with that because we haven't had much of a chance to talk about things except for him insisting that a slave always had to be in a relationship with a Master that was "safe, sane and consensual." He kept repeating those words to me to make sure I finally got them into my thick skull.
He told me again and again that I'm supposed to be having a good time with all this kinky stuff. That was news to me because, to be honest with you, I wasn't having much fun before. So anyway, to cut a long story short, I was finally "rescued" from the other Doms' clutches and delivered to Gabriel, tied down naked in the back of a pick-up truck and shivering in the cool night air. It's all in that other story if you're interested, but it's not absolutely necessary because Gabriel says that my "new life" is about to begin, right here with him in the limo naked and with the taste of his piss in my mouth.
He's toying with my hard dick while he's talking to me, this sweet "benevolent" cowboy. Holy cowboy! My legs are spread and I feel like some cheap whore that this slightly older guy is virtually molesting in the sweetest possible way. Twice I almost shot my load and twice he just let go and listened to me moan in frustration. "Never been edged, have you been, sport?" he asks me. Oh yeah, he's decided to name me "sport," but he started out calling me by my given name, Terry, in order to help relax me after the frightening experience I'd had before I was dumped in the back of that old pickup truck and trucked over to the place where he was hanging out with a few of his friends and their own slaves. Like I said, those slaves looked pretty happy. That clued me in to the fact that Gabriel had been telling me the truth.
My hands aren't bound now and I'm glad because I spent a good long time locked up first in steel handcuffs and then leather manacles and my wrists are bruised and abraded from the experience. "If you promise to be a good boy, sport, and keep your hands at your sides no matter what I do to you, I'll leave you unbound for a while, at least until I'm able to take a closer look at those wrists and see if I can do anything to undo the damage those cuffs did to you. In the future, boy, never be stupid enough to let someone cuff you again. Those things are meant for criminals, not for juicy college boys like you who don't have the sense to stay safe. And by the way, sport, I don't intend to punish you for your stupidity. I think you've been punished enough the past couple days." Amen to that!
And si he's got his fingers toying with the head of my dick again and it's leaking like crazy. "Take the fingers of your right hand, sport. Wipe the precum from the head of your dick then suck it from your fingers. The taste pre-cum will help take mollify the taste of my piss." Oh, and that's another thing: Gabriel was pretty articulate. That's a plus in my book. I don't object to being tied down, but I won't put up with being dumbed down.
I wipe the tip of my dick like he told me to, but then hesitate to put my fingers in my mouth. "Never tasted your own pre-cum before, boy?"
"No, Sir. Never have."
"So I guess that mean you've never tasted your own cum either . . . "
"No, Sir. Never have. A lot of guys have cum in my mouth, but I've never tasted my own."
"Well you'll be tasting plenty of cum from now on, but you won't have to taste your own, at least not for a good long time."
I nod my head, rather relieved. I mean, I have no problem even drinking other guys' cum; I've been doing it since high school when my best friend Danny O'Toole became the first guy I ever gave a blow job to. There have been many since then. After all, like I said before, I am submissive. Very submissive. Slave material, mind you, and happy that I might actually be trained as Cowboy Gabriel's slave because he is the most benevolent person I've met since I started out my little adventure Friday night. Benevolent: that's the word which keeps coming to mind.
No, I have no problem tasting and swallowing other guys' loads, but there's something about tasting my own that grosses me out for some reason. Meanwhile, Gabriel is molesting the hell out of my dick and I'm gasping because he just let go of it again and started toying with my balls—but when he realized that they're damn sore from what those other guys did to me back at the Hunt, he was very gentle with them.
"Would you like to know why you're not going to have to taste your own cum, sport?"
"Yes, Sir, please?"
"It's simple. It's because it's gonna be a damn long time before you ever get to cum again. Once I get you home I'm locking up this sweet dick of yours and it's gonna stay locked until I have to take it off to wash you. But I firmly believe that slave boys like you not be allowed to cum too often . Men get to cum; slaves only get to cum from being fucked. Go don't go thinking you're gonna have a nice orgasm once I get done working your dick. I'm working it just to let you understand how absolutely helpless you are when it comes to this thing between your legs. Chastity will be the rule for you, sport. Most of the time, if I have anything to do with it. Just get used to the idea." And with that he lets go of my dick again and I fucking swear it hurts like hell now!
No orgasam? This idea does not appeal to me in the least, I must say, but after all that's happened, I'm not going to make a fuss about it. I just wish he wouldn't touch my dick again. I think I've been edged more than enough for one night. But oh well, the life of a beginner slave boy is not all hearts and roses, I guess.
But speaking of hearts . . . . I'm already falling for this guy after all that he's done for me since I was deposited into his care, and the way he's been talking to me, and how he makes so much sense.. I just wish I could get my mouth on his cock. I got a good look at it when he pissed on me before and it's just about the most perfect dick I've ever laid my eyes on, and I've had a lot of dicks in my mouth in my queer young life, let me tell you.
After Danny had started getting blow jobs from me (just about every day), he spread the word to his buddies and we had a couple of little get-togethers where they all were sitting around watching straight porn with their pants down to their knees while they were making me crawl from one to the other, licking and sucking and eventually swallowing all their loads, one after the other. Five guys. Five dicks. Five loads. One of them, the one with the biggest dick, forced my head down and made me gag, but the others weren't like that. Sure, I have no idea what Gabriel's cock looks like when it's hard, but I'm hoping to find out very soon. I'll ready admit that I'm a cock-hungry faggot; back in high school Danny and his posse had started calling me their "cockhound," which I though was really cute. Better than being called a "cumdump" as far as I'm concerned, although I did manage to get lots of cum dumped down my throat the past six years---three in high school and three since I started college and found out where all the campus glory holes were. Oh, and I met three guys who would get naked with me when I sucked them off. Drew and Greg were older than me, and Patrick was a guy in my dorm who had a single and who "invited" me over two or three nights a week. My roommate thought I was screwing some girl somewhere.
Gabriel wanted to know my entire sexual history, so that's mostly what we've been talking about on the way to his house. Other than cocksucking, there's not really much to tell. Sure, I've sucked on balls, too, when guys told me to (submissive, right?), but that's about all of it. Danny tried to get me to lick his asshole but I adamantly refused so he never made a big thing about it, thank God. It's not that I have any objection to it, but let's face it, most high school guys aren't usually very clean back there and I didn't want to get grossed out.
"So you've never had your tongue lick a guy's asshole, sport? Never?"
"No, Sir, never."
Gabriel chuckled and just left it at that. Damn, I know that I'll be tasting his some time soon, but I'll bet he makes damn sure he's perfectly clean back there. He's just a nice guy like that. Benevolent, like I told you.
"How about feet? Toes?"
"Not yet, Sir," I say, and he tells me he's pleased with the way I worded my response. "There are a lot of things you haven't done YET that you'll be doing soon, boy, let me tell you. But only when you're really ready. Consensual, remember? Even though you're a slave."
Fine. As long as it's his ass and his toes, I'm game. After all, I owe him a great deal and I'm real good at showing my gratitude to guys who treat me nice. Just ask Danny and his posse from high school. They were all very protective of me because word got out that I was a fag and our high school was very homophobic. No one dared lay a hand on me thanks to Danny and the other guys I was blowing all the time.
Never got up close to guys' bodies in college, though, except for Drew, Greg and Patrick. Patrick was pretty rough with me, by the way. That's when I realized that I was masochistic as well as submissive, as long as he'd back off when I'd ask him to. Other than those guys, I stuck mainly to glory holes. I told you that the campus is pretty homophobic, but dammit, I'm sure I sucked off a lot of the homophobes as long as they knew I couldn't find out who they were. They all had a rule: I had to wait a full five minutes before leaving the bathroom after they were done with me—to give them enough time to disappear so I wouldn't see them. That's the way it goes, mostly.
By the way, my freshman roommate was a Neanderthal I hated. The two years was better, but the guy was a nice Catholic boy and I don't think he ever even jerks off. Anyway, Gabriel is planning to move me out of the dorm and in with him once we're sure this is going to work out between us. He says he wants me to have a certain degree of freedom for a while as he begins to "break me in." I agree. It's too soon for me to be living with him. I've had enough bad experiences so far since I've been 21. Damn!
Fuck! Now he's toying with my nipples, which are still very sore from the weekend. When he realized how sore they are he left them alone. Instead, he turns and faces me, puts one hand on the back of my neck with his other hand toying with my mouth a little, scooping up my pre-cum and feeding it to me, then making me suck a finger then slapping my face a little and working my mouth with his fingers. Hot, hot, hot, what he's doing to me. He makes me stick out my tongue and toys with that too, then slaps me some more and he keeps fucking my mouth with his fingers and then feeding me more of my own precum.
Shit, I'm gonna like this. Shit I do like it, and it's making my cock leak even more! Fuck, I wish he'd kiss me. I wish I could drink from his mouth. You have no idea what it's like being totally naked in this limo with him while he's toying affectionately with my body. Even when he slaps my face, he seems to do it affectionately, not brutally. Once he called me his pup and I almost melted into the seat.
The limo is very comfortable, but I can still detect the smell of piss and make a face. "You'll need a proper shower before I can lock up your dick." "And a toothbrush," I want to say. And dammit, he seems to be reading my mind. "I want the taste of my piss to stay in your mouth tonight so you can get used to it. I apologize that I couldn't warn you all that, but there are some things you're better off not knowing about beforehand. If I had told you I was going to mark you with my piss, you would have been head-fucking yourself about it until it actually happened and the shock value would be taken away. So much better for you to be dealing with shock than with worry. Shock gets over with very quickly."
"Like I'm doing to myself over getting caged?"
"Precisely. so you can easily see the difference. Let that be a lesson to you, Terry. Also worry trumps enjoyment. You can't enjoy yourself if you're worried about things that are going to happen. Nonetheless, I'm going to tell you what's going to happen once I get you home: I'll be giving you something to eat, a special snack to help you sleep. You'll eat it from my fingers so you're well aware that it's something I'm giving you because I want you to understand that every good thing comes from me when you're a good boy for me. After that you'll have a nice warm shower with wonderfully smelling soap so you can get every trace of piss off your body.
"You'll dry yourself then I'll dry your junk myself one last time. Then on goes the cage. It only takes a minute or so for me to get it in place and lock it, but I know it's going to quite a shock for you until you get used to it. In fact, not only do you have get used to being caged like a good sub boy, you also have to get used the IDEA that I'm able to take a lot of personal freedom away from you. Then I'll bring you to bed. You'll sleep in my arms tonight as a reward for being such a good boy. Don't be disappointed that I don't kiss you goodnight. After all, you have piss on your breath and I don't want to have to taste it myself. Only slaves have to taste piss around here."
The limo pulls up to the house. It's a lovely brick house, bigger than I expected. I imagine there's some kind of dungeon in it but he doesn't show me around and, of course, I don't have any luggage to move in, just my own naked hairless body.
Nex thing I know, I'm on my knees next to Gabriel and he's feeding me something with his fingers just like he said. It's some kind of hash, very tasty, with bits of meat and potato and God knows what else. I felt like a toddler, taking food from his fingertips while he continues indoctrinating me.
"The way I'm feeding you, boy, is highly symbolic. As my slave, you have nothing that is your own. Every single thing that you receive comes from your Master's hands. From now on, you will either eat from my fingers or from a bowl which I place on the floor. Most of the time, slaves eat like pets, not like ordinary boys. Men don't eat that way, only pets and slaves. So now I have a question for you now, Terry: What is the difference between a pet and a slave?"
My mind spins trying to figure out what he wants me to understand. Who is higher in his mind, I wonder, his puppy or his slave. "I'm sorry, Master, I don't know. Please tell me what the difference is?"
He looks satisfied. "The main difference between a pet and a slave is that when a pet is naughty or disobedient, it doesn't get whipped like a naughty slave does."
Holy shit! He likes the word "whip," I notice. I wonder what it really means? But I get the message. He is warning me, but at the same time he is demeaning me: I am now someone who will be beaten by a man for any number of reasons. Spank, whip, thrash, cane, all of it. I get hard and he notices.
He chuckles. "that hardon is one of the last few times your dick will ever be allowed to get hard."
Ulp!
Then, "Okay. you've had enough to eat. Let me give you something to wash it down." He picks up a glass of water and takes a big drink himself then puts his lips to mine and I drink it from his mouth. Another highly symbolic act and fuck, it turns me on so much the way he's teaching me by the way he's treating me. And since he likes the symbolism of things, I'm going to try to make up a couple symbols of my own, like kissing his fingers when they feed me. Next time, right now I'm feeling very sleepy. He must realize it because he helps me into the shower and keeps the door open so he can watch me as I wash myself and make sure I can still stand up on my own. More humiliation, especially when he tells me that I haven't paid enough attention to washing my crack and my hole so I have to wash back there again and make sure I get some of the soap up my hole. And damn, he doesn't even call it an asshole. No, just a "hole." Slaves have holes, I guess.
And then the thought struck me, and struck me hard: Life would be so much easier if I were nothing but a thing. But then I realize something: Gabriel doesn't talk to me like I'm a thing. No, not at all. I'm a boy. His boy. His slave boy. And he just keeps showing me in so many ways that he likes treating me like I'm somehow special to him. Wow. I feel like I've gone from hell to heaven.