Even the First

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Even The First - PART TWENTYFOUR

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Even The First - PART TWENTYFOUR

"Right. Ring the bell," said Paul as we approached the glass front door of his house.

I did so.

Through the door's rippled glass I could see vague shapes, the hall, the bottom of the stairs, the corridor, and beyond it the brightly illuminated kitchen; the familiar place I'd inhabited for years. Presently a figure, of average height, in obviously good shape, obviously naked, strode out of the kitchen towards us, walking purposefully - but I could see he had an ankle bracelet on, or something, by the odd way his square shoulders rocked. As he moved right up to the glass some details of his physique became clear: he had dark hair, a broad silvery slave collar, his nipples were noticeably large, dark and red, his waist was narrow, and he walked, despite the ankle bracelet, with a splayed step due to some indistinct obstruction in the area between his strong legs.

He pushed his face against the glass to look at us and at that point I could see his eyes clearly. They were dark. Youthful. He peered at me for a moment directly, then turned the latch and pulled the door. Keeping himself hidden, he poked his face round and grinned a wide toothy smile that lit up his whole face. I could see he had a large, firm, well-developed bicep. He was in his mid-twenties - a young, enthusiastic, wet-behind-the-ears muscle-babe.

"Welcome home, Sir!"

His voice was noticeably deeper than I had expected.

"Right," said Paul.

The muscle-babe pulled the door open, displaying himself briefly - soft but distinct abs and well-defined tits, their distinctive nipples drawing my attention - before he fell to the ground, kneeling with his thighs spread and his hands behind his back, looking at the floor, respectfully.

Clearly he had received some training.

Before I could get a proper look Paul poked me in the back, forcefully; I tripped forward.

"Right you go downstairs," he said to me. "Go!"

I edged round the muscle-babe and then quickly walked to the basement door. I opened it. Then I stole down the dark staircase into the gloom of that miserable place I knew so well. Nothing had been changed - in reality I hadn't been away that long, and my time with Vince was already feeling like a dream. I found my usual place and knelt down. After a moment someone came to the door and opened it. They switched the light off, closed the door and locked it.

I could hear them upstairs - mainly Paul but also the muscle-babe's distinctive deep voice. I thought, "Paul's getting a blow job."

• • • • It was a couple of hours before the door at the top of the stairs opened again. The lights came on and down stepped the muscle-babe, padding the wooden steps awkwardly on his naked feet, pulling the chain between his ankle bracelets clanking on the stair, back bent to avoid hitting his head, but neck stiff and straight due to the large collar he had to wear. "Paul wants you upstairs ... You're in big trouble," he said warily, looking at me from beneath his rich dark floppy fringe. "I know." I stepped forward. "You should've stayed away," he said with a rueful grin. I didn't say anything. He turned and went up. I followed, noting the firm somewhat reddened cheeks of his backside, his muscular thighs and his harnessed shaved balls swinging decoratively between them.

I went into the room where Paul sat in his usual place on the sofa, bare chested, in tight blue shorts that pulled his package into a large round bulge; his legs spread apart straight, at a slight angle to each other. He was staring at the telly - which was playing porn, judging by the soundtrack.

The muscle-babe had gone into the kitchen and returned now, chain jingling, with a mug of tea or coffee and a plate of biscuits - custard creams. He placed them on a tray on the sofa next to Paul. Paul said, "Thanks lad," sipped from the mug, picked up a custard cream and started nibbling it. The muscle-babe took up a position by Paul's side - standing to attention, but relaxed.

"Right good boy. Well done boy," Paul said, reaching up and fondling the muscle-babe's smooth round arse cheeks. They were red hot. "Thank you Sir," said the muscle-babe, leaning back into the cup of Paul's hand.

I didn't know what Paul wanted me to do. Mimicking the muscle-babe, I stood to attention, nervously, on Paul's other side. Paul glanced up at me and his expression changed to one of exasperated dismay, "Oh for christsake you never come into my presence like that, you muppet. Get fucking naked."

I was still wearing the silver-grey sportswear I'd worn at Vince's. I peeled off my clothes quickly. The man-made fabric clung to my body like a second skin, reluctant to separate, moist with perspiration and stained by large dark patches of sweat. I trailed them down into a wet silky pile on the floor.

Paul and the muscle-babe watched me undress, Paul sipping his coffee and nibbling his custard creams, the muscle-babe staring idiotically, like he'd never seen a naked man before: his mouth fell open, his eyes dilated and his dick lengthened.

"You haven't even fucking shaved for I don't know how long. When I dismiss you I want that fixed. Right."

"Sorry Sir," I said resuming my position, my hands behind my back resting in my buttocks leaving my genitals exposed towards Paul and the stunned muscle-babe.

"Sorry," said Paul, "always sorry. Right. Stay right there ... Right." He put down his drink and popped the remains of a custard-cream into his mouth. "So this here is Sean," he indicated that the muscle-babe was Sean by possessively stroking Sean's arsecheek again, gripping and fondling the smooth soft round flesh, curling his fingertips up into the hot dark crack and drawing his hand down Sean's sport-built thigh. "That feel good, right lad," he said to Sean. "Yes Sir, thank you Sir." "Sean's good," Paul said, glancing up at him approvingly. I don't think I'd ever seen Paul give anyone that look before. It was gentle, but also weirdly threatening, like Sean would soon find out why Paul was happy ... and might regret it.

Sean's hair flopped over his eyes.

"Sean's going to be my new slave, aren't you Sean?" Sean said, "Yes Sir," looking straight ahead and smiling despite himself.

As Paul released him, Sean took a step backwards from his position on the other side of the sofa, standing, holding his stomach in, so that his back was now against the wall, straight in a line from his backside to the nape of his neck where the collar restricted the movement of his head. He was looking forward, but down.

Sean didn't have the muscle development, but you could see he had terrific potential. He was lean and tight. His elastic skin stretched smoothly over his strong frame. His broad shoulders tensed to emphasise his small round hard tits and his large, crazy-bright nipples. He flexed his abs, sucking in. "Great posture isn't it?" said Paul approvingly. Sean stood up even more straight, thrusting his chest forward, his pale skin, white almost, gleaming and fluorescent in the subdued lighting, and flattening his abdomen still further. His proud oversized nipples pointed down. He arched his back militarily, keeping his legs straight, so that his buttocks stuck out, deeply and gorgeously dimpled.

"Wow," I thought, "you really are something!"

His pubes had been shaved and he sported a charming leather buttoned harness that made his cock jut forward, just uncomfortable enough to make him keep his legs apart, and looking like he had a constant semi. It was a decent enough cock - nothing showy, but well formed and big enough so that, together with his balls, you'd fill your hand - or Paul would.

"Right. Turn here," Paul said to him. "Bend forward. Show us your teeth." Sean performed according to Paul's instructions, responding immediately, with an appearance of vacant but involved seriousness on his face, always looking forward to a distant point directly in front of his nose, except that when Paul told him to show his teeth he took a step forward, turned and knelt facing Paul - his gaping arsecrack protruding curvaceously - and opened his jaw so that Paul could poke an exploratory finger into his mouth and run it along the tops of his molars; between them and his cheek; across his upper and lower incisors, and his tongue, like Sean was a farmyard animal being assessed.

"Right ... good. Good lad. Good boy. Right. Look at me. That's right. Listen."

Paul rubbed his fingers through Sean's dark hair, combing it away from his forehead, "We're going to have to lose all that, right." Sean nodded, "Yes Sir," and a look of a partial smile flickered across his face. He enjoyed the attention Paul was giving him. He was having the time of his life. "Stand." Sean stood, facing Paul who remained seated. Paul reached between Sean's legs, fondled his buttock, fingered his arsehole and the back of his ballsack. Sean's dick started to lift up, though in its harness it was always slightly jacked. "Ohh right, what have we here?" said Paul pulling down on Sean's penis so that the foreskin stretched out. He let go and it bounced. "Sean's getting turned on. Likes being like that. I think he's turning me on too. Right, why don't you open my trousers, Sean, and see what's inside, present for you." Sean grinned and fell to his knees in front of Paul's spread legs. He tugged the zip of Paul's shorts, dragged the two halves of the fly apart and carefully eased Paul's cock out - which was rapidly erect and keeling over at an angle, veins thickening, blood curling round the shaft, bright red and angry. Sean pulled back Paul's foreskin and kissed the purple tip before putting it down his neck and fucking it on his throat, breathlessly. Paul watched him with approval, encouraging Sean with his hand. He shut his eyes and directed his face up at the ceiling, obviously in pure ecstasy, smiling and patting Sean's collared neck, encouraging him to keep it deep throat until Sean choked and had to get some air. Sean gulped, tear faced, and looked at Paul's approving eyes before going down once more, holding his breath dutifully.

Paul moaned with happiness.

"See what I've got here?" Paul said. "I've got a regular little trainee pig slut; all willing and enthusiastic. Eager to learn. Eager to be taught. Wants to be taught and just wants to be guided along the path of pleasing a master. Ready to be corrected. A firm master - that's it. That's what it wants. Right. Believe me, I'm going to see that it gets the instruction it needs! Aren't I? Hey!" He pushed Sean's forehead away so that his pulsating hardon fell from Sean's lips, glistening with spit and leaking threads of precum. "Right. Don't make me cum. Not just yet," he said gently, tapping Sean's nose playfully. Sean wiggled his hips, his prick was standing up straight and pink in its fancy harness.

"Sean's got a university degree. He's got a future haven't you Sean? That's right. He's a real trophy! I'm going to train him up. Aren't I Sean? See to his development. See to it that he progresses, makes the grade, achieves his potential. Aren't I Sean?"

Sean grinned. "Yes Sir."

He thought it was all for fun. He thought it was a joke.

"Right. Yes Sir. See. That's what I mean: Obedience, enthusiasm, energy. Good boy. You'll get your reward. You'll get it alright."

"As for you idiot," Paul turned to me, "right, I've talked to Nigel. Right. I don't know what happened. I know what he said. I know everything, right. But I don't know what happened. Now you're back, not interested. Let's just say, `chapter' and move on, right. From now on I'll be training Sean so you give him any help he needs. Show him the ropes. Demonstrate things. Make him aware of his objectives. Help him understand his duties. Anything he doesn't understand explain to him. Right. It's up to you to bring him up to speed. Problems, I don't want to know. Solve them. Right. I'm holding you responsible if he doesn't know anything. Right. That's you job from now on. Right. If he fucks up, you get the blame right. You understand: It's your fault. I'm relying. Right. That's what I need. Right, he doesn't know it yet, well he does now, but Sean here's going to get a demonstration of what it means, tonight, when you'll get your punishment, to be a true slave to Paul."

He fell silent, looking at me, waiting for me to respond. Then he went on, "Kevin's coming round. He's going to take part. In fact he's going to take the lead. I'm mainly occupied with slave boy Sean. Dealing with him. He needs a lot of attention. There's a lot of care needed. Careful instruction and careful training especially when he's new. He needs to be gentle broken in, doesn't it, Sean?" "Yes! Sir!" affirmed Sean enthusiastically. Paul went on, "Kevin located you; he can deal with you. He's been after it for as long as I can remember. Lucky Kevin."

"We've never met," I said, "before today."

"Shut! Right. Like you were given a list of names. You got no idea who's been sticking their dicks in when I had you dished out on the frame!"

It's not like I didn't know, but I'd been conditioned, I guess, to simply accept that I'd been face fucked and arse fucked and cum in and spat on and pissed on and used by maybe hundreds of men Paul had invited round to the basement to do as they pleased, when I was blindfolded, chained and spread on the frame he used, and I had no idea who or how many. Men I saw in the street might have had me like that. They'd see me and know what I was and that they'd cum dumped in me and that I had no idea, no idea at all. They might be anyone I saw. Any time I met another man's eyes he might be someone who knew precisely what it was like to cum in me. I was just a piece of public property. I was walking around with so many secrets - but not things I knew: things I never knew; things that were known about me; secrets that were inside me that I never knew the existence of; secrets held by others.

I realised I would never be able to walk down the street, or meet any man, or be introduced to any man, at least not around here, who might not potentially be someone who had cum in me. Jesus, I'd never look in another man's eyes and not imagine I could see that flicker of recognition, of knowledge, of possession. I'd always be the subject of the gaze of strangers, men who knew me intimately but whom I had never known.

Fucking men.

"How many men?" I asked.

"Right. How many men? Fuck knows. I've totally lost track. You've had so much cock I'm damned if the numbers matter. I practically dragged any strangers in off the street and let them dump their load into one or another cunt of yours. Cunt face. Arse cunt. Haha. You got absolutely no fucking idea how you've been used. And you'll never know." He looked away. "You'll never know how many or who. Right. You were always getting a dose - keeping you clean was a constant challenge; PrEP in that food you eat; flu jabs that weren't flu jabs. You're so thick." He grunted a laugh. "Look at you. Look at yourself. Right. Sean, look at this one here! When I first met you you were a god. I remember thinking, Right, I can work with this. Christ can you believe it, Sean, he even had a name? Douglas, right? Dougie." "... Doggie-dog!" chimed in Sean with a grin. "DON'T interrupt!" Sean's face went serious - but his eyes didn't. Paul continued. "Men will only ever use you, cs that's all you are. You literally are a sewer." Paul paused. He looked me in the eye before taking a breath and continuing, "... Right. So Lucky Kevin is going administer your punishment, and he is going to hurt you and he is going to enjoy it. You know that ... he's quite inexperienced but I've seen him in action and he's got a spiteful side to him, I quite like that. Right. He can be quite nasty; I can see he's got a great future! He likes hurting beautiful men ... He has this cruelty but he needs practice. Right. It's his aim. It's quite difficult finding people."

"Yes Sir," I said quietly.

"Yes Sir; what else do you say?"

But I couldn't answer. I stared at a little patch of floor just in front of me.

"You've got it all. What`s your complaint?"

Well, after all, given a choice ... well, what would I have chosen? What would I have wanted? What did I want? My mind was as empty as the floor I was staring at.

I suppose, I thought of Vince and I thought, "Where are you?" and I thought, "I need you," and I thought, "Where are you?" and I thought, "I've lost you forever. There is no hope." And then I thought of Sean and I wondered, "What kind of life is he going to lead? He doesn't know it yet but if he's not careful it's going to be a life of suffering, a life of pain and disappointment and humiliation ... like mine."

I looked up. Paul was staring at my tear stained eyes. "Yeah cry. Right. That's good. Self pity. You are such a fag." He stared at me for some time after that. I was looking down but I could feel his eyes. He told me to kneel, which I did. Sean Paul told to put his head on his knee so that he could stroke his hair. Sean did this, looking up into Paul's face adoringly.

"My god, he really thinks he's got it made," I thought.

Paul looked at Sean with possessive approval, stroking his hair and, with his other hand, giving Sean his fingers to suck. Sean never took his eyes off Paul's face and Paul returned his stare.

Owned and owner.

Paul put his hand behind Sean's neck, grasping the collar, and pulled him towards his crotch so that Sean's face was pressed up against his thick hard cock. Sean opened his lips, touching the hot veined skin, and watching for Paul to give him permission to put it in his mouth again. Sean was totally focused. Paul smiled and patted him.

"Good lad."

He raised his eyes to me again, watching my reaction disapprovingly.

"When did you last go to the toilet, fag? Right. I want you to go, now," he said.

It would be difficult to piss through my hardon.

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END OF Even The First - PART TWENTYFOUR