This is a fantasy story involving man on man sex and s/m. It is not my intention to shock or offend, so if you are under 18 or it is illegal to read such stories where you live (you have my sympathies) please exit now. Otherwise, enjoy, remembering that this is fantasy and includes sexual practices that are unsafe in the real world.
It was unusual for my father to want to see me. Since my mother left he had left me mostly alone. I'd been at school, of course, an exclusive, expensive school just about as far from home as possible and vacations had been spent with friends or abroad. There was Christmas, even my father couldn't avoid me then, but otherwise we hardly saw each other from one month to the next. I got a generous allowance every month, he'd agreed to, and paid for, almost anything I'd ever asked for, but now we were virtual strangers, embarrassed in each other's company, always searching for something to fill the looming gaps in conversation whenever we did meet.
But now I was home. School finished, the future undetermined. It was the beginning of what turned out to be an idyllic summer, an almost endless succession of clear, cloudless days. A summer when I would learn more about myself than I ever had at the staid, expensive, pointless schools my father had paid for. But then I shouldn't get ahead of myself. Here I was, home without the prospect of leaving for the first time since my mother left when I was 11. Now I'm 18 and I'm walking down the impressive, wide, deeply-carpeted staircase that will lead me to my father's study. A room I have not entered, I realise with some amazement, since my father told me that my mother would not be coming back and that I was to leave the only home I had ever known for boarding school the next morning. It had been a cold, snowy February day six years ago.
I knocked on the door. I don't know why, but I just assumed that that is what I should do when being interviewed. That's what it felt like, an interview. A brisk 'Come in' from inside, I turned the handle and entered.
My father stood, back towards me, looking out of the window across the park. It was a picturebook scene. A clear, sunny June morning. The park was green, shadowy under the trees, dotted with the occasional deer. My father was a wealthy man; the house was large, Georgian, and exquisitely tasteful. A minor country home and one most certainly never open to the public, my father would never allow that. The park was extensive, well- managed and carefully groomed. My father was not a man who liked things out of place or untidy. My father turned.
'I should like you to meet Saul Powers, Ryan'.
I realised that my father was not alone. A tall, broad-shouldered, blond- haired man was seated in a chair, facing away from the door. He stood as my father introduced him. I remember first his eyes. They were green: a pure shade of piercing, almost emerald green. He didn't smile as he extended his hand. His grip was firm, dry, and cool. His touch seemed directly linked to my cock. It moved as he shook my hand and his eyes never left mine. For the first time in my spoiled, lonely life I felt a direct, powerful connection with another person. By the time he dropped my hand I was painfully aware that I was fully erect in my tight jeans. Saul showed no signs of being in anyway affected. I had to concentrate to bring my attention back to what my father, who had turned back to gazing out of the window, was saying.
'Mr Powers is here to teach you how to ride Ryan. You know my interest in horses; I want to build up an important stable. I want you, eventually, to take it over. You need an interest. According to your school you have shown little special aptitude for anything at all. We shall try horses. Mr Powers here will teach you'.
Horses? What on earth was my father thinking about? Why should an eighteen-year old boy be interested in horses? My anger at my father's complete lack of feeling for what I might want, why could he not at least have talked to me about this and not just declared that it was so, for the moment clouded my intense, physical, sexual attraction to Saul Powers. But even I, angry though I was, could not fail to read my own sexual meaning into the idea of Mr Powers being my riding master. Despite my anger I almost grinned at my father's unintended innuendo.
At eighteen I am a virgin. That sounds ridiculous, I know, but it is true. It was not, even by my own critical standards, that I was unattractive. Far from it. I had thick, dark lustrous hair, a smooth olive skin that tanned effortlessly and evenly and a slim but muscular frame that had needed little training from me. I had inherited my good looks from my Italian mother, who, I was told, I should never mention again in my father's hearing. Several boys and one teacher at school had made various sexual plays for me. I don't know why I had never taken them up. Of course I had sexual yearnings. Intense, long-lasting, embarrassing erections. I masturbated frequently, sometimes even incessantly. I knew from the showers at school that I was well endowed. Very well endowed. My cock grew larger, my balls were bigger and hung lower than those of almost all the other boys at school but I had never felt the urge towards another person. Not, that is until Saul Powers. Even in my rage against my father, the most insistent thought I had throughout the interview was that I must get back to my own room where I could indulge in a prolonged, passionate and ultimately extremely messy bout of masturbation.
But that was not, apparently, going to happen. I dragged my attention back to what my father was saying
'You will go with Mr Powers now. Your training will begin immediately. I am going away tomorrow on business, when I return in a month's time I expect to see results'.
He shook Saul Power's hand. Murmured something I couldn't catch at which the tall, broad-shouldered man looked at me and then nodded brusquely.
'Come with me Ryan', he said, guiding me out of my father's study and striding me out of the hall, and across the wide expanse of gravel towards the stable block and staff quarters
To be honest I hadn't been in this part of my father's estate for years. There had been no reason to. The staff had been efficient but distant throughout my stays at the hall over these past years and they had changed frequently. There had been no time to make even a cursory friendship and, as I have suggested, my interest in horses was non-existent.
I entered the tack room, next to stables, behind Saul. I was still uncomfortably aware of my erection, still aware of my intense attraction to the man. But immediately something else caught my senses. I breathed deeply. The smell seemed to catch my erotic mood. A smell of leather, sweat, straw. Deeper notes of animal warmth, a sharp tang of horse piss. Mr Powers turned and faced me, my glance automatically went to his cock, and lingered over the bulge too long before I met his eye. A look almost of amusement passed over his face before he spoke in a calm, deep authoritative voice which seemed to take control of all my thoughts.
'I am aware Ryan that you have not been consulted over this. You have apparently no interest in horses at all. But you will learn to ride and you will ride well. I will not tolerate laziness or failure, or cruelty to the horses themselves. You will obey me as if I was your father. I repeat you will obey me and you will learn to ride. Do I make myself understood?'
'Yes sir', I managed to murmur.
'Speak more clearly boy' he said.
'I said yes sir', I repeated.
'Good', he turned away, picked up a collection of clothes and placed them on the tack table in front of me.
'Training will begin immediately. Take off your clothes and put these on'.
The smell of the tack room, Mr Powers' deep, resonant voice, his powerful masculine presence meant my erection was harder than ever. How could I undress in front of this man? I thought. But, at the same time, a new thought occurred, one I had never felt before, a kind of coquettish thought. I wanted this powerful man to find me attractive; I wanted him to desire me.
I started to undress. I was aroused, my nipples hard, my smooth, olive skin almost goosepimply with erotic charge. Saul didn't turn away. He watched as I stripped down to my ribbed white trunks. My cock bulged, reaching across my hip to one side. There was no disguising the fact that I was hard, and aroused. As I blushed red, a small wet patch on my trunks grew bigger and my big, balls churned visibly in the thin cotton, close- fitting trunks.
For a second a definite smile played round Saul's mouth and eyes,
'I said strip boy. Everything'.
I felt humiliated, but also like I thought a whore must feel. I slipped my fingers into the sides of my trunks and pulled them down. I stepped out of them and stood, legs slightly apart, and looked Saul Powers in the eye. My 9-inch cock slapped up to hit my stomach. My balls, released from their tight confines, dropped low then pulled back firm, a bead of pre formed on my cock tip, then dropped, as if in slow motion, to the rough cobbled floor.
Saul Powers looked at me. He looked at me fully, piercingly, and without any signs of embarrassment or desire.
'Good. You will shave off the hair around your cock and balls and ass. If you don't do it successfully, I shall get someone else to do it to you. Do you understand?'
I opened my mouth to protest, but nothing came out, I nodded and my face reddened again.
'It is better you are shaved for riding. You will feel the horse more', explained Mr Powers.
He handed me a pair of soft, chamois leather pants and I put them on. They fitted perfectly, my cock bulging obscenely inside them, they laced at the back and I had to turn while Saul Powers, pulled them tight and tied the lace.
'Get dressed boy. Then come over here'.
And so the lessons began. I learnt to care for a saddle and the tack; I learnt to groom my horse, to talk to it, to wash down the stable, to polish the leather. Finally after 3 days I learnt to mount the horse itself. Surprisingly, remarkably, I had an aptitude. I could see that Saul Powers thought so too. I liked the animals, I found the tack room smell deeply erotic, what's more, I took to being in the saddle as though I had been riding all my life.
My training took up several hours each day. The rest of the time was my own. I masturbated furiously, incessantly, copiously. I shaved my groin every morning, not knowing whether Saul would check or not. I found this so erotic that sometimes I would cum just from the stroke of the razor. I woke painfully erect, I jerked off through the morning and evening. In front of mirrors, teasing my sensitive nipples, playing with my ballsac, exploring with my fingers the tight, wet, warm hole between my legs. And all the time I fantasised about Saul Powers, what he would do to me, how I could please him, what his huge cock (undoubtedly huge in my fantasy) would feel like between my lips or inside my ass.
I was so erotically charged, so permanently horny, that I began to grow tired of my bedroom. I masturbated in the parkland, in shutdown rooms of the East wing, and then finally, in the stable block itself. I had discovered the attic, below the eaves, where straw used to be stored. The smell of the stable and tack room permeated up and I was able to strip and masturbate for hours. I did. Sometimes taking up pieces of leather tack to use. A bridle to slip over my chest and chafe my nipples, a saddle to sit astride as I came, a crop to flick at my full balls, a leather strap to tease my tight, firm ass.
One day after class I watched Saul drive off into town in his car and went over to the stable block as usual. I collected some stuff and started to climb up. But something was different; I heard a noise, so I replaced the tack, then climbed up stealthily to see who or what it was. I peered round the brick dividing wall in the attic and what a sight. It was Martin. Martin was one of the stable lads. Saul's assistant really. A tall, good-looking lad. I had not had very much to do with him. We had spoken 2-3 times. Like me he seemed to adore Saul.
He was totally naked apart from his work boots. He stood in profile. His large cock, almost as big as mine, hung heavily erect. He had what looked like clips on his nipples and as he turned I saw his cock was tied with a leather string or cord. In his hand he had a small, leather many- stringed whip which he brought down with some force on his swollen cock and reddened balls. I got my cock out and started jerking it. It was an erotic scene, but then he turned his back and bent down to get something out of the black leather bag that lay at his feet. He had a fine body. More muscular, older, developed than mine. No body hair, shaved I assumed. As he bent his balls swung low. The cord was tied to something that dragged them low. This was exciting. I could barely breathe with erotic charge. But it was not all, for I saw then something that really made me jolt. The whole of his ass, thighs and back were covered in a criss-cross pattern of fine red welts. Some older ones had turned to the purple black of bruises but others were obviously freshly made. He took a long, black phallus shaped thing from his bag, greased it from a tube, then placed it on the floor and squatted over it. After a moment's adjustment he sat on the black cock and it slid up his whipped ass, a sigh of pleasure came from him as he began to slide up and down on the dildo, faster and faster, whipping his cock and balls with the small whip. His cock swelled, his whipping became more frantic and his squatting more deep until eventually his cock exploded. Shots of creamy white cum jetted across the floor. I counted 8, no 9, before he stopped. He fell back onto the floor and sighed. The phallus still up his ass looked lewdly huge, stretching his asshole. He gradually eased out the huge black thing, sniffed, then laid it down. He started to undo the clips and cord and then to collect his things.
I had not come. I went back down and hid in the tack room until Martin had left then I went back up. His cum was still there. I scooped some up with my fingers, sniffed it, it smelled so cool, so sexy, that I licked my fingers. I was horny beyond imagining at what I had witnessed. I went back down, stripped and got up onto the saddle, I started to jerk off. Imagining the clips, the weighted cord, the dildo and, most of all, the whipping. I came with a tremendous force. Jets of thick cockcream landed across the saddle, floor and wall opposite. I slumped exhausted but still hard. I wanted more; I wanted to try a whip on myself. But then I heard a car; I jumped down, and got dressed quickly. I cleaned up as best I could and was just opening the tack room door as Saul Powers was coming in.
'What are you doing here boy?'
'I thought I left something, Sir, but I was mistaken'.
I tried to slip past him and walk away.
'Come back here now boy'.
He raised his voice to me for the first time. I stopped, went back, he closed the door. He strode over to the tack table and saddle bar. To my horror I noticed two large gobs of white spunk still drooled down the saddle. He followed my eye. Ran his fingers through the semen and sniffed it.
'Come here boy'.
I walked over, dreading what would come next, but also rock hard in my jeans.
'Is this your semen boy?'
'Yes, sir'. I stammered, blushing from head to toe.
'Lick it up'.
I couldn't believe my ears.
'I said, lick it up'.
There was no question but that I should do it. His command, shocking though it was, was suddenly exactly what I wanted to do. I bent and licked the still warm spunk from the leather. Then he stuck his fingers to my mouth and made me lick those. After several seconds of exploring my mouth with his fingers he stepped away.
'I shall punish you for this boy, I shall punish you very hard. Do you understand?'
'Yes sir, I am really sorry sir'.
'Too late, boy, to be sorry. Be at the old barn at 9 this evening. If you are late the punishment will be much worse'.
I walked back to the house and, despite my fear at what was to come, I couldn't wait to get to my room. Once there I stripped, and used my cock harshly until I experienced one of the most intense, copious orgasms of my young life.