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.
HuNTeR GeTs CaPTuReD By ThE GaMe 02 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
%
"Hey, nice room you got here, Hunter," Hector says, walking in the spacious room. Continuing checking the high-schooler's sleeping quarters out, "Separate bath," he pokes his head in the jon, "Hey, is this a hot tub?"
Before he can back out, Hunter, with a cocky attitude asks, "What do you think, gymrat?"
What Hector didn't know is, while he was eyeing up the interior decorations, Hunter had snuck in the closet and in his hand, ready to pounce against Hector's ass, was a ping pong paddle!
"Ah-h-h-h-h! Oh-god! Oh-fuck!"
Hunter was laughing his ass off as Hector was holding both asscheeks, even though only one was red and hopping around inside the jon!
"Oh-shit you little sneak!"
Pausing in his amusement, Hunter says, "Shame on you 'boy'. Now is that anyway to address your new master?"
It sure calmed Hector's heated-up ass and the pain dance he was doing, registering the implications of Hunter's words. He even questioned the terms, "Boy? Master?"
Then his eyes fell upon one of Hunter's hands, the one without the ping pong paddle, holding his half-deflated teen cock. Without giving Hector an option, something he would always favor Barrett with, Hunter says, "Now, let me think what your punishment should be for insuboordination!"
"Insu... hey, I thought we came up her to... you know... um, have some fun... roll around in the sheets a bit?"
By this time, Hunter, with his straight-faced attitude holding the 'dominant' demeanor, was standing directly in front of Hector, whom stood about an inch or two shorter. By comparison one would never guess the thirty-five year old and teen were much different in height.
"You thought wrong!"
Getting mixed feelings, Hector smiled as he gazed into Hunter's face, receiving a slight smile, as Hunter said, "Hold this," putting the paddle in Hector's face, a gesture shown where to hold it, "Open," Hector opening his mouth, then taking the handle of the ping pong paddle into his mouth.
He was sure to get a reaction, Hunter setting into motion his next act of defiance, taking the sides of Hector's uniform and pulling them apart.
"Fuck! Whathahell you think you're doing?"
The paddle hit the tiles with a thud, as Hector pulled his bod back.
"Oh shit! You broke the zipper. This uniform cost me like-a-hundred-fuckin' bucks!" He tried pulling the zipper up, then down. It wouldn't budge in either direction.
"It all adds up," Hunter says, all cool, calm and collective as he stands at his favorite pose, feet shoulder width, arms crossed along his pec lines.
"Sure does," Hector replies, totally oblivious to Hunter's train of thought. In this day and age, this economy, every little penny counts. He was still trying to make the zipper work.
He made sure he was 'playing' Hector for all it was worth, standing there so his cock, which due to his own actions, had hardened so that it planed out from his pubes on an angle. To make more of a precedence, he tightened his glutes and strutt his torso forwards, making his nine inches look larger than life, all for the common good of Hector's focus of attention, which kept him from totally trying to fix his wrecked zipper. "Yep, boy, you have several infractions awaiting my attention."
"Infractions?" Hector says. Hunter had gotten his attention, him peering down at the eighteen year old's lower anatomy.
"First thing, why are you still in your clothes?"
"Like the zipper? It's stuck?"
Being cocky, Hunter drops his arms, walks towards Hector and says, "I have a way with zippers."
Believing him, thinking the zipper was going to come undone, slip down to almost below his balls and he could step calmly out of the jumpsuit-styled uniform, Hector watches Hunter's hands, his eyes straying occasionally to the teen's crotch.
Not at all being gentle, Hunter makes light work of tearing the zipper off it's hinges. "Oops!" He says when the tiny zipper mechanism flies off and dives into the hot tub.
Hector was speechless, until commenting, "I thought you were going to save the zipper."
Allowing it to go over his head, Hunter says, "I'm giving you to the count of four to strip... 1..."
"But..."
"2..."
Hector had on a tee shirt and briefs. Peeling the uniform from his shoulders, it fell to his ankles, it moving rapidly being laden with his wallet and other moving tools, like a case cutter and a small ball of string he collected in his pocket after removing it from a parcel.
Falling out of Hector's pocket, Hunter picked up the twine. Already the wheels were spinning in his head. However, as keen as Hector was of viewing him in the buff, Hunter too was anxious to see what the Latino looked like under the threads.
"3..."
"I'm moving as fast as I can... shit!" Hector said, peeling his shirt off overhead, like he has many a times when late to the gym, eager to get started.
Hunter's eyes widening upon viewing the taut abs, almost smooth bod, except for a very thin line extending from a small patch of black hair midchest, straight down over Hector's bellyhole, then under his belt, he thirsted for more.
"4."
"What does that mean?" Hector says with caution as his hands freeze at opening up the button of his khaki pants.
"It means you get double punishment for not following orders."
"How can 'anybody' strip down in four seconds?"
"And double that. Now are you going to finish stripping before I double your punishment again?"
The only thing really on his mind was this teen standing here, his hard cock hanging out and Hector's thoughts on at least getting a chance to touch it. Originally, as he climbed the stairs to the bedroom, his own crotch ached with the wanting to claim teen ass, but strangely the picture changed as what he wanted became blurred. Now all he desired is to serve and obey.
He knew what Hector wanted and for Hunter there was no way he was ever going to get it. This is Hunter's room and when a guy stepped into his territory, his law 'was' the law! Things were going his way as he watched Hector...
"Oh shit!"
"You stoopid idiot!"
Hector didn't like it, but in reality he was stupid for not untying his boots and stepping out of them first before trying to shuck his uniform and pants. He sat down on the toilet.
"No. The floor."
"Huh?" Hector questioned Hunter's motives.
"Slaveboys sit on the floor. If you want to sit anywhere else you have to earn my respect to do so," Hunter played it by ear.
He didn't say it, but Hunter still sensed a stubborn attitude as Hector got off the can and sat on the floor. He watched as he pulled his pants and uniform up to his shins, untied his boots and removed them. Smiling briefly, Hunter remembered from his visit to a website, noting in his mind how well boots and balls went together!
"There. Satistied?" Hector said when all of his clothes were off, except...
"And the briefs?" He knew this was exciting the hell out of Hector, as well as himself getting quite a jolt. A spot of precum soaked Hector's tightey-whities.
Then he got a bird's eye view, Hector skimming the tiled floor with his cotton briefs as he depantsed himself, taking them down to his quads.
"Mmmm... now don't they look scrumptious!"
Hector smiled, thinking a change of heart, thinking Hunter was lusting over his hard shaft and accompanying sacks of joy. "Just waiting for your attention," and he played along, "sir!"
"Well, the way I look at it, 4 swats of the paddle on each of those ballsacs, then..."
"Are you fuckin' crazy? A little swat on the ass a moment ago was okay, but ball torture?"
Hunter figured kind of so. Down in the basement, in front of Barrett and Marshall, Hector was all sweet talk, a top man hoping for a piece of ass. He was looking for a challenge, bringing Hector upstairs to his bedroom, all for the enjoyment of seduction, maybe some breaking... owning, trickery thrown in for fun and so he continued with his hope of turning the tables, "Well I have to punish you, you do agree?"
"I dont' know, Hunter... I.."
"Don't shit me Hector. Down in the basement you know I was going to torture Barrett, right?"
"Um, yeah, but Marshall said..."
Cutting him off, before he got the upper hand, "And you were taking all the pleasure away from me, by me allowing you to torture Barrett?"
"Uh, yeah," Hector replies, wondering where Hunter was going with this. Regardless of the unpredictable nature of the whole scene, Hector had mixed reaction. Even though he always assumed the 'man-on-top' role, his cock and balls acted simultaneously, getting turned on by the minute by Hunter's abilities at trying to 'own' him.
%
"Oh-h-h... oh-h-h... o-oh!" Barrett voices opinion over the feeling of Marshall attending to his nips.
"More?" Marshall asks.
"No... no... no more..."
Giggles accompanied Marshall as he slowly tipped the candle and allows the wax to drop onto Barrett's left pec, targeting his nip, from a height of about three feet. He would have stopped at Barrett's request, but for now his willing victim was not using the 'safe words' picked out, the usual ones Marshall required of his 'playmates'.
"Still feeling good, boy?" He questioned Barrett, another attempt at making sure the burning sensation of the cooling wax covering his left nip wasn't getting too intense.
Walking around the table Marshall had tied Barrett down to, eagle-spread, gave his victim indication he was switching sides. "Ah, a nice, fresh pec to work with!"
Music to Marshall's ears, Barrett requests, "Sir, could you drip the candle from less of a height, please?"
"My pleasure boy." Striking a match, lighting a candle, Marshall tests, "Should I use your navel for an ashtray?"
"Um, uh..." Barrett wasn't sure about this, putting the lighted match in his navel to douse it.
Without the instantaneous, positive response, Marshall quickly assesses, "Nah!" He douses the flaring match with his breath. "Quite a buildup of wax here."
It was a signal, one Barrett expressed by clenching his teeth and fists, grabbing at the ropes which were bound around each wrist and extended to the post above his head. When Marshall had him lie down on the banquet table, he fastened the clothesline around Barrett's right wrist, wound it around a basement pillar, one of the ones Hector tested out, then tied it around Barrett's left wrist. Advancing to the foot of the table, Marshall literally grabbed Barrett by the balls, pulling on both to tighten up the slack in his arm, which gave Barrett quite a jolt, his balls being stretched as well. As Marshall used this stretching out technique, it made him smile, seeing the eighteen year olds cock twitch, even a bead of precum form at the tip.
But now Barrett's left pec was in for it and as Marshall tipped the candle from about two inches away.
"Ah-h-h-h-h-h-hk-k-k!" Barrett showed full attention to the scorching of his left nip, three drops splattering off Marshall's target.
Part of the scene, as Barrett cried out in pain, Marshall held off on the candle, holding it away from the table, bending over and blowing a cool breeze over Barrett's pec. Same time, his free hand circled Barrett's cock, at full attention and gave it some soft strokes.
"Oh-h-h-h... oh-h-h-h... oh-h-h-h," he moaned as the pain subsided, the delight from Marshall's cock-stroking settling in.
"Too intense, boy?"
"Yeah... I mean no... I mean, it felt good sir."
He got a whimper, a small sigh out of his bound victim when he stopped stroking his cock, which wasn't humongous, but enough of a handful.
Leading Barrett on, he dictates rather than asks, "I'm going to light two candles now and cover both pecs with wax, boy."
"No... please sir... no more."
Marshall cracked a small smile. Barrett didn't use the safe words, which showed the eighteen year olds pain threshhold was growing to accept higher degrees of pain. First time Marshall played with Barrett, when Barrett showed up and Hunter wasn't at home, they both found a mutual turn-on and unlike Hunter, Marshall wasn't reluctant to try some things considered extreme. In fact it was he who mentioned to Hunter to quiz Barrett about the use of candle wax, a medium Marshall has used before with other guys seeking the pleasure of pain. But to continue with today's scene, Marshall yells with sarcasm, "Don't you give me any of that fuckin' lip boy. You're getting it!"
"Yes, sir," Barrett replies, without enthusiasm. Though, still on the edge of the pain, the pleasure, the mix of both, Barrett tightens his gripping of the ropes, the tightening of his abs, bracing himself once again for Marshall's hot wax torture, only this time double-the-pleasure!
%
Copyright 2010 T. Chase McPhee
`HuNTeR GeTs CaPTuReD By ThE GaMe' may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.
The more you stretch, the more you can fit in... 'spread' happiness! TCMcP.....