Warning: the following story contains graphic descriptions of sex between consenting adult males. If you are underage or do not wish to read such materials, read no further. If you have any feedback, please drop me a line at niftyguy_30307@yahoo.com
Thanks a lot to all of the guys who have written. I appreciate the encouragement.
Note: Each new chapter in this series assumes the reader has read the preceding chapters.
I'm far away, far from where and when I am. Even though I am still here and now, I'm somewhere out of time and space. Always and never. Nowhere and everywhere. Here and there and then and now. But slowly, faintly, imperceptibly at first, then just a bit stronger, the hooks of holy shit gravity sink into fingers and toes and begin to reel me in, pulling me back to myself and here and now. I'm passing stars and planets and dust and gas and a big rocky moon that is shining bright when I turn my head to look and then through the clouds faster above the water and over the mountains and into the trees and along a path and here we are in front of the door and then inside tucked away and hidden under a clean sheet.
When I woke up, I reached out and touched Sam. Before his skin had been cold and clammy. Now it was warm and dry. But he didn't stir in response to my touch. I guess that he was asleep, though I really don't know how. Maybe he was just pretending. I had tossed and turned for a couple of hours, drifting into and out of unconsciousness. Lying there, the smell of leather and hay and saddle soap and horses comforted me, both when I was asleep and, especially, when I was awake. These were all things that were honest and real, qualities that were sometimes in short supply.
Sam and I had made it to the stable. We needed someplace, I suppose someplace to hide. And someone to help, someone we could trust. I hoped that Eric Cantwell, Idlewild's groom, would be that person. He looked surprised when, clad only in his boxer shorts, he opened the door to his quarters next to the stable at, what time was it? One in the morning? Two? God only knows. When I knocked, I didn't really care.
"Mike, what the hell are you doing here?" Eric squinted his bleary eyes at the watch strapped around his brawny wrist. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"
"I, I, not really," I stammered. "Look, Eric, is there anyplace here that we, a friend of mine and I, can stay tonight?"
Eric looked puzzled. "A friend? Why can't you just go back to your room?" He furrowed his brow and looked from side to side. "And where's your friend? I don't see anybody but you."
"He's. . . not really presentable. He's just down the path." I paused and took a deep breath. "Look, can I trust you? Some people might be looking for us, and you can't tell them that we're here. Can we just stay here tonight?"
Eric hesitated for only a second before nodding. "I can put you in the little tack room. Nobody will find you there; I'll make sure of that."
"I won't forget this," I said, sincerely grateful. "Just give me a second. I'll be right back."
I quickly retraced my steps back into the woods, intent on getting Sam inside and out of sight with the least possible delay. I don't think that I took a real breath until we were in the clean, orderly stable, following Eric to a small room that was full of equipment. He gave me a stack of clean bedding, and he gave Sam a quick once-over. I could tell that he was shocked at Sam's disheveled, vacant appearance, not to mention the fact that he was naked save for a blanket thrown around his shoulders, but he didn't presume to ask any questions, at least at that point.
"I hope you guys will be comfortable in here. Let me know if there's anything you need." I nodded at Eric, and he was gone.
It didn't take me long to make up a rudimentary bed. Almost mechanically, Sam got under the covers and curled up, turned away from me. I slipped in next to him and cupped my body against his, trying to warm him, body and soul. As I lay there, images that had burned through me like x-rays kept bubbling to the surface, no matter how hard I tried to push them away.
I had followed Sam, Rich, and the third man, whom I did not recognize, through the woods. I was careful not to get too close, so that they would neither see nor hear me. It was my good fortune that there was a full moon illuminating the world as it was, since I did not have a flashlight to shine on the path. I suppose that I wouldn't have been able to use it even if I had had one, lest I attract attention to myself. Our little clandestine caravan eventually skirted the meadow that stretched behind the stable and approached the small stone house that was hidden in the trees. I watched as the three of them went inside and then slowly crept up to the house.
Voices. I could hear voices inside. More than three, though I could not tell how many there were. Crouching down below a window, I desperately wanted to hoist myself up and peer inside, but it seemed too dangerous. My heart pounded as minutes ticked by while I waited, frozen. And then, there was light. From the basement window ten feet away, partially hidden by bushes, giving me cover as I crept closer and closer. Wriggling forward on my belly, I moved into place to watch. To watch the show.
Picture this. A procession of maybe a dozen men, dressed in long, dark robes, each carrying a small box. Then come two more men, wheeling in a table, on which a clean white sheet covers something, or someone. And then one more robed man, striding with the power that he obviously possesses.
The twelve sit on chairs that flank the room. The two at the table watch and wait. The one mounts the platform at the end of the room, throws off the robe, and reveals himself to be Richard Gray. He takes his seat on the chair that is clearly his, and all eyes are on him, on his body that is the expression of his male power. His chest is naked and beautiful, and even now I want to run my fingers across the furry muscles that I have felt before. I can feel my own cock start to harden as my eyes follow the dark trail that snakes across his rippling stomach, only to disappear into the leather pouch that encases what I know to be a cock that can reduce me to quivering jelly, and balls that can pump me full of sticky fluid. He is sitting there, on that big chair, legs clad in laced leather chaps and spread wide, daring everyone not to look at what he is showing for all to see.
And then he nods at the men standing by the table, signaling them to begin their work. As one walks to the wall and presses a switch, causing a harness to descend from the ceiling, the other pulls back the sheet, revealing the naked figure of Sam. My friend is neither awake nor asleep, but somewhere in between. Although his eyes are partially closed, as if in a trance, his body slowly moves to and fro, like he is in the middle of a feverish and very wet dream, causing his shiny erection to sway lewdly. All that restrains him are the leather straps that attach his wrists and ankles to the cold steel of the table. Very quickly, the two attendants release him, lift him up, and position him in the sling, where they buckle him in securely. My Sam is now hanging from the ceiling, splayed wide open, gently swinging as he slowly writhes with pleasure or pain.
Richard Gray smiles as he takes in the scene in front of him. He is Master of this particular Universe. He stands up.
"You want the Power, my friends," he says, scanning the faces of those who watch him. "And you know that I have the Power. I'm going to tell you tonight that you will only have the Power when you are prepared to take it from where it is, and use it for yourself." As he talks, Richard Gray begins to release the snaps that hold the leather pouch closed. "And what I have here, my friends, is true Power."
With that, he releases the final snap, allowing his cock to swing free. The unnatural confinement has prevented the meaty organ from reaching its true size, and it hangs heavily over the swollen balls, pausing like an animal that has just emerged from sleep. Sensing freedom, though, it begins to grow, thickening and lengthening, protruding out from the nest of dark hair at its root. This cock acts like it has a mind of its own, like it's sniffing the air, trying to find a target, like it's a predator in search of prey.
Richard Gray walks around the room, circling the harness, showing the source of his power to all. All eyes are transfixed by the fat column of flesh, as thick as a man's wrist, as long as a hot summer night that you don't want to end, but aren't sure you can bear. The leather clad high priest who controls this awesome tool of pleasure and pain obviously enjoys the heavy feeling as it swings from side to side, intimidating and exciting every witness.
"Cock gives you power, cock gives you control, cock is what they crave, cock is what they'll beg to get, cock is the drug that creates and takes away all of their pain" he intones as he circles closer and closer around Sam's suspended body.
Despite Sam's detached state, he seems to be aware of the bobbing organ that is approaching nearer and nearer. Every time Richard Gray passes Sam's head, my friend twists and turns in that direction, his mouth clearly seeking flesh. Maybe he is responding to the scent of sex that is surely filling the room. Although Sam's eyes are still half-closed, he clearly becomes more and more agitated, craving contact with what his tormentor is keeping just out of reach. As Gray continues to stalk his target, he nods once more at the two attendants. One goes to a small cabinet and returns with a bottle of lubricant that he begins to apply to Sam's exposed ass. The other reaches up and pulls down three small clamps that dangle from a trio of thin chains that feed up and over their respective pulleys. At the end of each chain is a small weight. One by one, each clamp is attached to Sam's foreskin, holding his rigid cock vertical, and stretching the fleshy hood up and out, forming some sort of perverted cup, a vessel for what would be an unholy communion.
Richard Gray pauses at Sam's ass and looks around the room. "Each of you has brought an offering, taken in pleasure, and offered in sweet pain. It is almost time for you to make that offering and receive your due." Slowly he begins to trace around Sam's puckered flesh with his fat thumb, causing my friend, suspended from the ceiling and overcome by lust, to gyrate his buttocks in a vain attempt to secure release. Even from my vantage point, I can see that the sensitive skin is flushed a dark red, and I know that it is burning hot. Sam visibly flinches as the thick digit pushes through the tight ring, but it does not appear to offer much relief, even when it is completely buried. For a long minute, Richard Gray just stands there and looks down at what is his for the taking. His cock is jerking and twitching like a horse that is eager to run a race. Finally, he extracts his thumb and places his cock head at the pulsating orifice.
"It's time."
One by one, the twelve onlookers stand up and make their way over to where their leader is on the verge of performing a ritual sacrifice. As he pushes through, impaling Sam and causing him to thrash around, the twelve each open the small boxes that they are carrying. One by one, they each extract a rubber sheath that is full of sticky fluid. One by one, they each tear the reservoir tip off and squeeze the slimy contents onto Richard Gray's pistoning cock, lubricating it as it plumbs the depths of Sam's butt. The thick organ serves as a giant needle that delivers the pungent offerings deep into the darkest recesses of Sam's body.
At first, Richard Gray is willing to just stand there and swing his hanging target back and forth, bouncing him to and fro on a rigid pole. Sam is powerless to stop the relentless exploration of his deepest recesses, an exploration made possible by a monster tool of flesh and blood, something more punishing than anything science could devise. Even from my distance, I can see that Sam is being stretched to unnatural limits by the assault of his tormentor's shiny erection, but it isn't clear that he is begging for the invasion to end. In front of all of these people, he seems to be finding a way for pleasure to outweigh his pain.
Richard Gray nods at one of his fiendish assistants and simultaneously steadies the harness. I watch as Gray's strong glutes clench in time with his deep thrusts into my friend's bowels. What in God's name is about to happen? I don't have to wait long to find out. There, in front of my eyes, the depraved assistant grabs Sam's left nipple with one hand and a long needle with the other. I have a sinking feeling, and Sam begins to thrash around. Very quickly, the tender pink skin is pierced and the tiny metal barbell is inserted. A thin trickle of blood snakes across Sam's pec. Simultaneously, Gray increases his tempo, and my poor Sam is pushed in two directions, one of pain and one of unbelievable pleasure that comes from being filled to the bursting point, again and again, by the enormous erection.
I don't think that Sam has the energy to resist. He goes limp as he gives himself over to the impending orgasm that he is just beginning to experience. He struggles a bit against his restraints as the white, pearly cum shoots out of his slit, filling his distended foreskin to the brim. Richard Gray, watching the display in front of him, smiles as he buries himself deep inside, depositing his burning semen.
I am spent, and I watch numbly as one by one, they all come to dip their tongues into the pool of sticky sperm that Sam's body offered. I hope that they will release him now that their perverted ritual is complete, but they all just file out, leaving my friend suspended, his ordeal continuing. I test the window. It is not locked. I'm going to get him out.