Disclaimer: The following story is a work of fiction. If you are offended by descriptions of homosexual acts or man/man relations or power and surrender scenes, please exit this page. If you are under age please exit this story now.
Delivering Andy
Copyright 1999 by M Conley. All rights reserved.
CHAPTER 5...........
It had taken my the better part of an hour to clean up the evidence of mine and Paul's activities. Wiping up drying globs of spent jism that landed on the floor, remnants of my hair that was epoxied to the floor in the dried cum smears. The back of the chair where my aching cock drooled and painted. I was both amazed and shocked as I relived the scene like a forensic detective piecing the clues of a crime scene together. I was nervous but secretly thrilled by what had happened. Maybe one of my workers would find some small trace of my debauchery and read the guilt in my face, maybe ask to many questions and find the truth. Then I though "who cares!" I'd just had a taste of something that I know I'd wanted for so long but was afraid to try. I was proud that Paul had taken me to task and that I was to be his. Yes, HIS. That thought alone sent an electric thrill though me.
Satisfied that I'd cleaned the office up so that there would be no traces I finally was able to collect myself and head home. I was tired but exhilarated, like after a good workout at the gym. I was pumped! The ride home gave me time to feel all the aches that were starting to make themselves know again as my endorphin high wore off. My ass was sore, inside and out. Paul had I'm sure given me some nasty welts with the metal ruler he had spanked my with. And my asshole tingled with a slow burn from the fuck he threw into it. That both made me wince and smile. It had been a while since I had anything even close to what Paul put out. My knees hurt from kneeling so long on the floor. Industrial carpet doesn't offer much by way of cushioning the cement below. My one arm hung limp in my lap while the other clung to the steering wheel in protest at having to still function after being restrained for so long. My chest was warm from the slaps and itched like mad from all the hair that was stuck to it. It reminded me of being ten again and at the barber. some of the clipping always found their way down my shirt and would drive me insane until I changed clothes. My nipples were even worse off than my chest. Paul had twisted them more than anyone had ever attempted. Every contact from my cotton shirt sent a shock through them. They would need time to recover and I guessed a lot of aloe lotion. My jaw was sore from it workout on Paul's cock. I've swung on bigger but Paul had made me work his cock longer than them. he had definite control over himself and his toys. I kept expecting him to pop his load of jism at any minute, yearned for it, but he didn't let fly till he was ready to. I kept catching glimpses of the mess my hair was in the rear view mirror. I knew it wasn't pretty and I would take care of it soon enough. I was tired and just wanted to get into be and go back to the dream that I'd just had with Paul.
I woke up stiff and achy. I knew it was no dream what had happened the night before. I'd stripped and crashed into my bed when I had gotten home last night and as I woke I saw the mess my clothes were that I'd throw in the hamper carelessly. My shirt was stained and crumpled and I'm sure still held all the wonderful scents of my lust and Paul's. I looked to see my chest still had hairs clinging to it. I got up and b-lined for the bathroom to take my morning piss. My cock was sore and sticking at full attention. I felt a constriction and remembered that I still had the ball-stretcher cockring on. I was surprised I'd been able to sleep with it on all night. At the moment it was making taking this piss a difficult procedure. I fumbled with it to no avail. I couldn't get it off. The snaps wouldn't release. This sent a bit of a scare through me. The pressure was beginning to get painful and I started to dance a bit trying to figure out what to do. My cock was getting harder as I though about it. The pressure felt both good and bad. I was unexpectedly exciting. I decide the best thing is to try and relax and let it go down a bit to free up my piss tube. Not an easy task I assure you. I went to the old standby which worked great in high school whenever Mr. Happy got excited when I caught site of a nice guys cock in the lockerroom. I love her to death but Grandma's image always put things back in place without fail. Still worked to. My cock deflated a bit and I am able to, by leaning over the bowl against the wall, start to trickle. The trickle slowly increases to a stream and soon I am shaking off the last drops into the bowl which had become a mean off yellow, almost amber color from all I'd deposited.
I then turn and look in the mirror at someone I don't recognize. The reflection I know is mine but I'm still not sure. I look and see the hodge-podge tufts of irregularly cut hair that cover my scalp. I knew it wasn't going to be pretty but this I wasn't ready for. I almost cry at the mess I see. I've always had a good head of thick dark hair and am secure in the fact that I will never go bald, but I'm not prepared for this. I know that it will all have to be cut down to nothing. I've never had a buzzcut and don't know how it will look. I never thought about what I'd do if I lost my hair, but here it is that I have courtesy of Paul. I'd always been amazed by bald men, they seem to have scalps that were designed for it-surprisingly smooth and some almost glossy. They were genetically prepared for the exposure of their heads. How will mine look? Are there bumps or scars that I have that have been forever covered by my mat of hair. I nervously run my fingers through the remains like I'm reading a Braille roadmap. Can I do this? This is a very cruel trick Paul has pulled on my. I have to be my own scalper or go and try and explain that I had some tragic accident to my hairstylist and see if he can do anything other than what I know will be the inevitable solution. I take a set of deep calming breathes as I stare intently at myself. I suck it up as I know I still have to go in to work today. I open the sink cabinet and grab the beard trimmer and steel myself for what I'm about to do. I know It's got to be done. The buzz cut through me as I start it and set it to almost the lowest setting it had. As I drag it past my ear and feel the hairs as they cascade down past my cheek, I imagine all those who have gone before me in the military entering boot camp. Their steely and determined faces as it's done with swift precision by the unconcerned barbers. I do my best to replicate that image as I continue sheering my head.
The reaction to my new look varied between my employees. Some graciously commented on it being a good look for me if radical while others tried hard to stifle a chuckle at the shock of it. I had trimmed it to an even fuzz which covered my head evenly. It felt velvety when I rubbed my had over it and it didn't look all that bad, just different. I know that I'll need to see my stylist to touch it up and actually give it some semblance of a "look". I've seen people do just as dumb things to themselves, radical hair color change, mohawks, striping ala Dennis Rodman, the whole gamut. I knew I'd get use to it by the end of the day and that it would grow back eventually. The morning proceeded as normal with the buzz of daily office noise lulling me back to normal. The bell rings and in pops the morning Fed Ex deliveries, not Paul I find to my disappointment, but that was the way it went. The secretary sorts and routes the parcels to their intended departments. She finally brings one small envelope to me. She comments that there is no sender return address just "Personal Material" written in the info area. I just as confused as she but take it and pull it open.
Inside is a hand written note:
"Pup,
You will wait for me after work.
M.P."
That's all it said but it's effect on my was visible. I must have gone flush as a wave of blood began coursing through me. My pulse quicken and my breathing got shallow. A thousand thoughts flew through my head as to what Paul could have in mind. My dick twitched for an instant at what my mind answered with.
The rest of the day was a daze for me. I couldn't focus on business and it became apparent to my staff something was on my mind and they did their best not to bother me unless necessary. I work in my office alone going through all the possibilities that might present themselves swinging back and forth between thrill and fear. I'd gotten a taste of what he was capable of the previous night and wondered how much more he and I were capable of. Several times my hand found its way to my crotch and worked my stiffening cock through my slacks. I run my hand several times through the velvety stubble that had been my hair which only gets me harder. I can feel the ball stretcher tighten as I fight the urge to take my cock out under the desk and relieve it of it's need to spew my seed. I weaken and reach in the fly and fondle my shaft and run my hand over my taught ballsack. The leather strap send electric thrills as my flesh strains against it. I get nervous that anyone could bust in and catch me in this charged moment, but I continue to work it and spread the oozing pre-cum over the sensitive head. What I find is that the awkwardness and risk of the situation only adds to my excitement. Like a shot, I can feel my balls tighten for the final time and the charge of cum speeding down my shaft. I pinch the tip of my spasming cock and hold back the tide which is almost painful. I get my free hand in position to catch my spunk and slowly empty it into my palm. I milk out every drop I can stifling my moans. I beg to myself that no one should come in now. I bring my filled palm into view and salivate at the gift it holds. Pearlescent and silvery and cooling in my palm, my jism beacons me. I quickly scootch down and lap up the thick fluid, swirling it around my mouth, savoring the taste, fresh and manly. I wish that it were Paul's cum that I slowly swallow and revel in. I continue to clean every dram I can off my hand with my tongue enjoying the scent on my hand. When I think I've gotten it all I slump back in my highback leather chair and breathe deep. I then wipe my wet hand over my head massaging it into my scalp, satisfied. I know that the few hours that remain until m rendezvous will pass like the night before Christmas for a eight-year-old who can't wait to see what Santa has left.
I sit nervously in the outer office waiting for Paul to arrive. We closed up for the day at least an hour ago and I let my secretary know that I may not be in till late if at all tomorrow. I caveat it with an instruction to check if I don't show by Friday giving her the impression that it might be an illness setting in. I again go through the joys and disappointments of every passing car. The little voice inside keeps playing the pessimist since Paul hadn't been in for the last pick-up. Maybe it was another test and he was watching to see if I leave. Or maybe he was jerking me around laughing at how strung out he'd gotten me already. My frustration mounted but I would give Paul the benefit of my doubts.
Finally I hear a vehicle pull up and see the lights come to the door outside. It's not the motorcycle he had last night and I find myself a bit disappointed but ecstatic that he's here. I get up and my mouth is dry and hands clammy. The door opens and there he is in all his masculine glory. This time he's clad in worn, once black but now dirty gray denim jeans, a not so tight red t-shirt, and black shoes polished I imagine to marine envy. He's got a gymbag with him which hangs empty at his side. I immediately drop to my knees as he approaches. I stay focused on his shoes as the get closer. He stops before me and a heavy pause fills the room. I eagerly await his commands.
"Good puppy, Master like to see a well behaved pup," Paul says and drops the gymbag before me. He cups my jaw and turns my head up at gaze at his face. He has a slight smile on his face, an amused look which makes my knees weak. "Now Strip!" he commands.
I spring up to my feet and quickly begin to shuck my clothes. I drop them loosely around me in my haste. Paul snatches hold of my right nipple and gives it a hard squeeze. The shock and pain are multiplied by the fact they haven't recovered from last nights session. I involuntarily shrink back but he keeps a firm grip on it.
"What are you doing?" Paul barks at me. "Who taught you to throw your clothes around like some spoiled child?" He emphasizes each question with a twist on my nipple.
"S-s-sorry Sir," I whimper in response.
Paul snaps back, "Pick them up, fold them and put them in the bag." He releases my tit and give me a small push back. I quickly scramble to comply with his order. I fold my clothes on the floor while on my knees. I quickly have them stowed in the bag and am presenting it to Paul. He takes it, quickly checks the contents and then curtly zips the bag closed. I stay there kneeling before him exposed. I feel the slight chill that the door is letting in and the goose bumps it is slowly raising on my skin.
Paul saunters around me inspecting his property. On e one pass he brings his shoe to my balls and jostles them seeing that the ball stretcher is still in place. The next pass he runs his hand over my chest and back lightly slapping the surface. His touch is getting me hard and my cock begins to bloat. Another pass and he's rubbing my head.
"Not bad for a dumb-pup. You healed up pretty well and had the balls to clean up the mess I left of your hair. Still needs to be finished though." Paul says. I'm shocked that he's going to remove even more of my hair. I suppress the urge to say something in protest.
He continues his circling and stops behind me. I feel his hand on my ass, kneading the cheeks and tracing up the crack. He probes my hole tenderly which causes me to draw a small sharp breath. He removes his hand and leaves me there. I hear a jingling from behind me and think its a keychain or some sort of metal trinket. Suddenly before my eyes is lowered a dog's choker collar. Shiny steel and heavy linked. He dangles it there for a moment before speaking.
"When I put this on you, you are mine body and soul." he grumbles as he drags it across my shoulders and around my neck. "You will never take it off or speak of it to anyone. It will hang low enough so you can cover it with your shirt. When you've earned the right, you will receive your name and tag. In my presence or the presence of your betters of the pack, this is the only other thing you should have on besides your cockring. Understood?!" he presses.
"Yes Sir!" I snap back quickly.
"This is you last chance to back out. Once this is locked around your neck, you'll be nothing more than a pup and I and your new pack will make all your decisions for you. You will not question me or them. They know the rules and will teach you them. Break any and you will be punished. Understood?" Paul finishes.
I pause and quickly weigh what he has related. This is what I want, have always wanted, isn't it? The chain continues to drag across my shoulders. It feels heavy, more for what it signifies than for its true mass. I look down and see that my cock has made the decision for me already.
"Yes Sir. Please be my Master. I need to be your pup and be trained, Sir." I confidently answer. The chain is withdrawn out of view and I hear Paul taking it up. It comes back down before my face suspended from both ends by Paul's steady hands. He brings it under my jaw and draws it back against my neck. I feel it make contact as it closes around neck. I swallow hard and my Adam's apple dances around it. I here a click from behind me and know that the lock has been placed. Paul pulls the now completed loop around and rests the lock on my chest. He pats the lock and withdraws his hands letting me take in the totality of the moment. The weight of the chain is now part of me and the links slowly draw warmth from their contact with my skin.
Paul walks around to face me and lifts my head to look into his face. I'm surprised that I have tears on my face. He wipes them away gentle then pulls me close to him. He gentle strokes my head and pats me, reassuring me. I want to stay like this forever. I know that now. This is where I truly belong. His.
Paul breaks the moment when he releases me and snaps "Stand up!" I jump to my feet a bit unsteadily. I stand face to face with him. He has only about an inch on me but he towers over me. He pulls out of his back pocket a strap of some kind and begins to put it over my head. It's a muzzle with a large patch of leather he fits over my nose and around my mouth and chin. He roughly secures it tightly. There's a dime sized hole in the mouthpiece.
"You are to say nothing from this point on when you're wearing that. You will either nod your head yes' or shake it no,'" Paul instructs and grips the muzzle and demonstrates how the signals should go. "Understood?" he presses. I signal my understanding as instructed.
"Good boy, puppy learns fast. Keep it that way." he encourages.
Then he reaches behind himself again and produces a leash of black leather. It uncoils like a snake and he grabs the clip end. He snaps it closed on the lock around my neck. He jerks it hard downward forcing me to my knees again. He comes close to me again and again pats me on the head. He instructs `Grab the bag. Where out of here." I grab hold of the bag containing my clothes and pull it to me.
"Come." he barks as he heads fort the door. "Lock the door as we leave and shut off the lights."
I do both as we pass the door. Thankfully it's dark enough that no one should see us, especially me as we exit. In front of the door is a big F-150 pick up truck with a cap. he leads me around to the back and opens it up. Inside is a metal dog kennel with a blanket on its floor. It's just big enough for me.
"HUP! Get in boy!" Paul yells. I carefully maneuver myself into it and am soon scrunch down on my hands knees watching him close the kennel door on me and then the tailgate and cap. The leash is hung on a hook on the cap but still attached to the collar on my neck. I feel the truck shift as Paul gets in the cab and closes the door. He starts the engine and soon we are driving off away from my office. The kennel turns out is bolted to the bed of the truck so it doesn't shift as he drives. The blanket is musty but provides me enough cushion for the bumps of the trip. I have no idea of where he going as I cant see out the tinted glass of the cap. It's dark and the chill starts to become evident as the ride goes on.
After what seems a half hour, we make one final turn and Paul stops the truck. The engine cuts and I hope we have arrived at our destination as it is getting cold in the cap now. I have the blanket hung around me for some measure of warmth. As I hear Paul get out of the cab, I replace the blanket under me and await his opening of the tailgate. I'm kept waiting for a few more minutes and finally Paul begins to open the back.
"There now, that wasn't to bad was it puppy?" he coos as he opens the kennel door and takes up the leash. He pats me on the head as I nod my approval. Paul give the lead a tug and says, "Okay, come on out. Let's go see your new pen."
I grab the gymbag and carefully get out of the truck and follow Paul through the cold damp grass. It's dark and I can only see the form of the building we are walking around the side of. I can see it's a modest sized home with brick face There are tall hedges that line the property and preserve our privacy as he walks me. He leads me next to a tall thick tree and stops.
"Okay pup, piss before we go inside." Paul instructs. I'm shivering slightly and really have to concentrate on getting my bladder to work in such an awkward setting. I reach down to grab hold of my limp and shrunken penis to get it started. Paul immediately smack my hand away hard. "Did I tell you to touch that? Bad Puppy!" he yells at me and then gives my ass a whip with the other end of the leash. I know it wasn't a hard lashing but with my ass cold and goose-fleshed, It stings more. I dance a little from the sting and concentrate on getting my plumbing to flow. I finally trigger the flow and soon am pissing on the tree and ground before me. The stream of piss smokes a bit in cool air and splatters on me as it bounces off the tree. The little bit that does get on my legs and feet cools quickly adding to the bumps on me. Just as I finish and jump a bit to shake myself off, Paul tug on the leash and begins walking me around the back of the house.
As we make the turn, we come on to the patio. My dilated eyes can see a big treed backyard and a swimming pool. I'm suddenly aware of a dim red glow coming from the open cellar storm doors. Paul leads me toward them and starts descending into the basement. I cautiously follow making sure of each step. As I clear the entry, I can see only a small part of the room we are in. There is a bright red lamp in the center of the room with a shade that only illuminates the very center of the room. Directly below the lamp is a small platform with a strange metal object that almost looks like a sculpture. The shiny metal tubes of the object reflect the red light, contrasting it sharply against the black Formica platform. It looks like a cross between a gym machine, gynecologist exam chair and massage table. I can recognize parts for what they are, headrest, seat, stirrups and restraints. Leather belts with steel fasteners, one on each stirrup, on large one on the seat, one by the headrest and a looping set under the padded seatback. I can imagine many positions that a person could be arrange in when placed in that contrivance. My master leads me around it letting me see it from every angle. I see that the main support is a piston which comes out of the platform. As we pass I see a foot pump level, like a motorcycle's kick-start bar. I see that the leg stirrups, which look like oversized handlebars, can be rotated. The entire frame can also tilt back and forth, raising or lowering the appropriate area. In all, a functional and menacing machine.
Paul grabs the gymbag from me and tosses it aside carefully into the dark recesses of the basement. I don't hear it hit the floor, just stop somewhere in the space above it. Silently, he pulls me up onto the platform and begins to direct me into the position he desires. He sits me with my back resting against the padded rest and my ass on the seat. The seat has a cut-away half-circle which leaves my asshole exposed and floating. He gently pushes my head back into the headrest and loosely fastens the neck restraint around which still allows me to breath easily but restrict my head movement. Next he takes each of my arms in turn and restrains them behind me under the chairback. I couldn't get up if I needed to now. He then moves down to my legs and positions them in the stirrups and closes the belts around my ankles. I'm amazed by my passivity at being completely immobilized and totally exposed. Paul begins tracing up and down my body with his hands feeling and gripping as he goes, inspecting the merchandise as it were. He comes up between my spread-eagled legs and starts lightly smacking me in unison. It's almost sensual in the way he's doing it. Smacking an area in increasingly harder secession then gripping and massaging them. I begin to get dizzy in the attention I've been waiting for. He works his way from my calves, to my thighs, up my chest which he seems to linger on checking the pinch of my spread and "tsk"-ing softly, over my shoulders and down my upper arms, then back to my face. I am warm and completely content from his ministrations. My rod is half hard and flopping back and forth as his leg grinds into it. Paul turns his attention to my cock and ass now. He grips it at the shaft making it swell then smacks it a few time which makes it fill even faster. He waves it around, letting it smack my abdomen and legs until it is rock hard and painfully bloated. He then starts playing with my ass hole and crack, making it quiver and spasm. He gets it to open a bit and then starts to flick his finger onto the rosebud, the same way he did the previous evening. The sensation is electric and send shock dancing through my body which has me groaning and squirming in the seat.
Paul steps back and asks, "Am I your Master, pup?"
I explicitly nod my yes while screaming it in my head.
"Does puppy trust his Master?"
Again I nod my affirmation.
"Good pup. You know your Master would never do anything bad that you didn't deserve." As Paul continued he start opening his pants and drawing out his cock. "But you need to know I am your Master. Your collar is a physical symbol you will carry with you that you are owned by me and are part of a new family, but you now will receive a ceremonial one." He backs up a bit and I sense what he is about to do. "I mark you now with my scent."
As soon as he announced it he let loose with a torrent of piss from his flaccid hose. The stream arched high and glistened in the red light. I observe, as if outside my body, as it comes splashing down on my chest. It is hot and seems to scald my skin. He continues his fierce liquid assault and begins directing it around my body, up over my chest, directly on the lock and chain, across my shoulders, over my face. He aims the stream directly at the hole in the muzzle splashing it over my lips and into my nose. I splutter a bit then I close my eyes and hold my breath as he continues to baptize my head and face with his fluid gift. He then drops his aim to my genitals, drenching them with his urine. The sensation of his spray as it splashes over my turgid cock and balls is indescribable, the closes thing to an orgasm one can have without having one. The fluid drains down the crack of my ass and over my heated asshole cooling it while stroking the fire inside of me. He continues, concentrating the last of his aromatic piss over my blood red organ and taut balls. Moans escape me as I am overwhelmed by this moment. I never knew it could feel like that, never would have dreamed it. My breath is heavy as Paul shakes the last of his piss over me. He steps back surveying his handiwork.
"You are now marked by me as my property, a member of my pack." Paul announces loudly. Suddenly there is a roar that fills the room and shocks me. A chorus of howls, barks ands baying coming from around the room. There are others sequestered in the dark out of sight who have witnessed all that has transpired so far. "Now the rest of your pack shall also cover you with their scents as well to mark you as theirs as well. You will get to know them all and there position in the pack." Paul says while glaring at me directly.
Paul steps away into the darkness that the red light keeps me from peering into. Slowly forms of bodies begin to appear and come into the red glow. They slowly begin to circle around me examining and sizing me up. The circle grows ever closer and I can see more of these men of Paul's pack. All are naked except for an identical chain and lock around their necks. Unlike mine, theirs have an additional tag which glints and reflects the light. They are all different sizes and builds but all in shape. Two have on harnesses of thick leather and steely buckles. I notice that some have piercings-nipples, ears, PA's-or tattoos. Most are crew cut and smooth. In all, there are 7 men revolving about me. I feel like the nights dinner to this hungry pack. There is an almost inaudible growl coming from them. Finally one of them leaves the circle and takes his place where Paul had christened me. He was one of the two with a harness. He has a thick mustache which canopies over his mouth. He's a bruiser of man. Build and solid. Bulkier than Paul and more heavier muscled. Both his nipples are pierced with thick rings and he has tats on his chest and arms.
Looking down scowling, this mammoth man says, "I am Topper. I am first of the pack, answering only to our Master. If Master is not around, I am in charge and you will follow my instructions as you would his. I will be the only other to administer discipline other than our master. I mark you now as a member of my pack and accept you as the runt of the litter."
"I look directly at him and nod my head to accept his dominance of me.
Topper lets loose another torrent of piss, again covering my body with it but curiously stays away from my face. Again he finishes by concentrating on my cock and balls which are straining and continue to send tremors through me as each drop strikes.
He finishes, rubs his hand over me, mixing his urine with Paul's and withdraws and returns to the circle which has continue its course around me. I will soon meet every other member of my pack and receive their scents before the night is through. The thought pushes me to the point of cumming but I know it would be wrong to do so until all took their turn.
To Be Continued. Any questions or comments E-Mail LIRAVENSMC@AOL.COM.