Sex Pot

Published on Jul 2, 2024

Gay

Sex Pot Chapter 12

The Sex Pot

(A Poker Game Story)

By

Randy MacAnus

© 2019-2024 All Rights Reserved By The Author

If you would like to see the story continue, you can email me with your opinions and suggestions at:
rmacanus@email.com

This is fantasy. I try to make my stories seem at least plausible, but none of this is taken from real events. I should be so lucky. If you have ideas about directions you might like the story to take, by all means include them. I have additional chapters outlined, but am open to modifying, if I get interesting feedback.

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Chapter 12

As Michael's jet taxied to the runway, we started our drive home. I fired up my tablet, and logged onto my phone's hotspot. I called up my browser, and clicked on the private link Michael had sent me. He had internet service on his plane, and had set up a couple of fixed video cameras. He also had the steward using a handheld camera. All three cameras were now visible on my screen.

George was driving, so he would have to wait to see the video we were recording. But the rest of us, including the twins were being treated to a live stream of Freddy's entrance into the Mile High Club, and his father's entrance into Freddy! By the time we logged onto the video stream, the jet had left the ground and was climbing to altitude. Everyone was still buckled into their seats.

The view was still enjoyable, though. Michael had Freddy sitting stark naked, except for his collar, cock cage, wrist and ankle restraints. He was in the display position, and his father was playing with that wonderful body as he sat next to his hot submissive son.

Freddy's expressions were priceless. He knew this was his future, and he didn't want to screw it up. But he was clearly uncomfortable and very embarrassed to be submitting to his own father, with every detail being broadcast to us, (and who knows who else?) over the internet! The fact Freddy was straight was now a moot point. From what the Father and the twins had told me, they were determined that Freddy would never have his cute little dick inside a woman--or anyone else. Except for possible medical reasons, he would never even be free of his cock cage. This made me happy.

This journey had started when our poker game was visited by a privileged, arrogant, homophobe, with a gambling addiction. Now he was a sex slave to men. His inheritance was gone. He would never be in a position to make another bet or enter a woman. His oral service of the Goth Twins would be his only sexual stimulation of a female--if you didn't count his getting fucked by their strap-ons! I wondered what decisions he would have made the night he played poker with us, if he had known where his life would be headed.

Once the jet reached altitude, Freddy was moved to the bed at the back of the plane, with his wrists still attached to his slave collar. His father put the hot little teen on his back, put his legs on his shoulders, and moved the slender boy's ankles up by those cute little ears.

The steward set down his camera, lubed up Michael's cock for him, then took the tube and squirted quite a bit directly into Freddy's boy twat. This gave us a chance to see the steward through the fixed cameras. He was very hot, and wore nothing but a pair of tiny running shorts.

I asked the twins, "Does the steward service your father?"

Edward answered, "Our father, yes. But not us. At least not yet. We have to get trained first."

"He's very hot. That should be fun for you."

"We are definitely looking forward to it! But it will have to wait until we've trained with you over Christmas."

"Bummer. But I expect it will have been worth waiting for in the long run."

"That's what father said. He thinks the biggest challenge for us will be learning patience."

I laughed and said, "Yeah, I expect that's a challenge for most high school boys."

Our collared naked twins grinned and nodded. These were great kids. They had confidence, but didn't appear to be arrogant. I could see why their father was going to leave everything to the two of them. I guessed that Michael had learned from the mistakes made raising Freddy. These two didn't have that air of wealth and privilege that Freddy exuded when we first met him.

As his father's seven inches pushed into him, Freddy's eyes rolled up into his head. But he didn't yell or scream. There was a sharp intake of breath, but that's all. By now, Freddy was a well trained fuck toy. Nothing mattered now but giving pleasure to the males, dogs, and goth girls that controlled him. And to his credit, he accepted this, and now worked very hard to please. No more reluctance. No more trying to talk his way out of anything. He had accepted his position in life as a sex slave.

I asked if Michael would make Freddy available to the servants the boy had verbally abused as he grew up. The twins indicated that this was likely, but Michael hadn't made a final decision on that yet. Certainly the flight steward would get a crack at his crack--and on this flight!

"Does the steward have any other responsibilities at your house? Or do you only see him during flights?"

Edward responded, "He's our father's personal servant. That includes all the usual stuff, not just sex. Father says he's very good at his job."

"Does he wear more than running shorts at home?"

The twins laughed, and Ethan replied, "Absolutely! On formal occasions he wears one of those Chippendale winged collars and a black bow tie. But not with the running shorts. He wears his formal black jock strap instead. He only wears the running shorts when he's out of the house. When he's home and we have no guests, he's kept naked and collared."

"Oh, man! I'd love to see that! What's his availability on those formal occasions?"

"My father and his guests have been known to bend him over--even during a meal. He will also find himself under the table providing oral service. And he loves it!"

"Where did your father find him?"

"We found him. He went to our private school on a scholarship. He's nineteen now, but when he turned eighteen, he had to leave the foster home he was in. At school he was outed as a gay bottom during his last semester. We intervened with the bullies, and they backed off. Since we hadn't had our training as tops yet, we didn't take advantage--even though he offered himself. He couldn't afford college or even a place to live when he turned eighteen, so we asked father if we could take him in."

"How did he wind up your father's manservant?"

"We warned him that father was bisexual, and might want him. We wanted him to know what he might be getting into. He was actually thrilled at the idea. And he insisted on earning his room and board. Father proposed the manservant slash fuck toy position. He jumped at it. He's going to serve my father until he's twenty one. Then father will pay for his college. My father knows himself well enough to know he'll want a new toy by then. We don't rule out continuing to use him ourselves, of course. He's pretty darn hot. And if the servants are regularly using Freddy, we'll want additional boy toys."

"I don't think the two of you will have any trouble finding boy toys. Especially once we've trained you. I'm curious. When your father is going in and out of the airport, doesn't his servant draw attention wearing just those little running shorts?"

"We have our own airstrip at the house. More often than not his boy toy just stays on the plane at destinations, unless it's going to be more than a few hours. That's rare, but when it happens he gets to wear whatever father thinks will be appropriate. But that never includes underwear. And the clothing he wears all has Velcro seams for quick and easy removal."

"So, I'm guessing your father is a top."

The boys laughed hysterically, and Ethan said, "You might be right about that!"

"What's the toy's name?"

"Everyone in the house just calls him Boy, and he calls everyone but my father, Sir. He insists on calling father, `Master.' His actual name is Wendell. He hates it. He actually prefers being called Boy."

"Well, feel free to lend him to us, if the opportunity presents itself."

The twins looked at each other and laughed.

"Once our training is complete, maybe father will let us lend him to you. But not before we've had him! That way he can report to you on our skills."

"Has he topped anyone before, or will Freddy be his first?"

"Freddy will be his first, and he's really looking forward to it. It's possible it might be a hate fuck. Freddy has never treated him well."

"Not a surprise. I suspect Freddy never treated anyone well before he gave himself to the six of us!"

The twins laughed, and Edward said, "Not even us! I think he already regrets that. I have to say, the whole family, and the entire staff are delighted with how well you've trained him. Ethan and I have talked about it, and we can't wait to learn from you. Heck, we've already started learning from you. The way you put us to use at the airport was awesome! We never expected that!"

I was sitting between the naked twins and gave each a gentle squeeze of their packages. Each immediately started getting hard. Teens, am I right? But then I was distracted by the image on the screen. Michael had picked up the pace and Freddy had started moaning. Man and toy were both getting close. When Freddy started dripping, Michael rolled him up a little more, so that his caged dick was directly over his face. The boy's pre-cum started dripping into his eyes, but he knew better than to complain.

Michael began pounding his son with a vengeance. Both father and son were taking deep breaths and even gasping a little. Wendell was getting great close-ups, alternating between Michael's manly prick pounding into his son's glorious ass, and the faces of the two--Freddy's pre-cum covered face showing pain and ecstasy, and Michael's with a look of triumph. I had to admit, that for a man of his age, he'd kept himself in amazing shape. I suspected Michael's stamina would be enough to wear Freddy out, if he chose!

It was clear the man was skilled and experienced, and had excellent control of his orgasms. The length of time he had pounded his son full tilt was impressive. It was hard to tell through the pre-cum, but it looked like there were tears running down Freddy's face. Freddy was moaning like a whore in heat--which is basically what he was now. He was desperate to cum, and despite the cage, he appeared to be getting close. His father was certainly slamming the heck out of the helpless twink's prostate!

Clearly Michael also noticed that his boy toy was on the edge, and decided to finish. He slammed the last few strokes into the collared naked teen's ass and filled him up. Freddy didn't quite get off, which was clearly what his father wanted. I thought this was great. It wouldn't do to spoil the boy! And the best part was we all got to hear Freddy's wonderful whimper!

All of us in the van cheered as Michael pulled out, and his seed flowed out of his son's ass. Well, everyone except George, who could only hear the festivities as he drove. He looked up into the rear view mirror with a grin on his face and said, "Bah Humbug!" And Christmas was still weeks away!

Next up was Wendell, and it was clear from Freddy's expression, that he was not expecting this! Then he made the mistake I suspect his father had been waiting for. He sat up and voiced an objection.

"Father, seriously?!"

"You have a problem with this boy?"

There was a threatening tone in his father's voice, but Freddy was more than a little panicked and didn't catch it. He just blurted out what he was thinking. It's just possible he will never do that again.

"He's a fuck toy! Why does he get to have me?!"

"You really don't understand your new position in life, do you boy? Let me explain. You are now the lowest of the low. You are a servant to servants. You are not and never will be a man. You are, at best, a boy. And I might just take that away from you, if you don't learn your place. There are only two reasons that cage will come off. The first is, if there is a medical problem down there. The second is because I decide to have your boy parts completely removed. I prefer that you keep them, so your balls are available for torture. But don't push your luck."

Michael continued, "You're only reason for existence now, is to serve real men. And Wendell is more man than you will ever be. Yes, he's a bottom boy. But he is a man. He knows what he is and he owns it. You have always treated him badly. That ends now. And as compensation for the way you've treated him in the past, he has my permission to top you whenever and wherever you are available. When we get to the house all the rules will be explained to you. In the meantime, know this: You have no privileges and you are never to complain about anything ever again!!"

There was a stunned look on Freddy's face. His mouth moved a little, but no words came out. I don't know if that was on purpose, but it was certainly in his best interest. The cameras showed tears welling up in Freddy's eyes, but he didn't actually cry.

He nodded to his father, leaned back from the sitting position he had assumed, looked at Wendell and said, "I'm sorry Sir. Do what you wish."

Wendell had a great big grin on his face as he placed the new fuck toy's legs on his shoulders and moved forward. Between Michael's lube and his cum, Wendell apparently figured Freddy was lubed enough and pushed straight in. He had a big dick, that he'd never used before, (except for self-gratification, of course.) But he was darn sure going to take advantage of it now!

Freddy's eyes closed tight and he moaned, as his tender hole was plowed deeply in one single thrust. This would definitely be a hate fuck! The twins and my housemates (except George) watched fascinated as Wendell took his first ass. Once his pubes were pushing against Freddy's hot little butt, he leaned forward and whispered in the fuck toy's ear. Freddy's eyes popped open in shock and fear, and he looked straight into Wendell's eyes. And he kept his eyes locked on Wendell's for the entire time he was being fucked. The look of fear never left Freddy's eyes. I would love to have known what Wendell said!

Now the thing about an experienced bottom boy topping someone is, he knows from experience what feels good, and gets him off, and he knows what doesn't. He's in a great position to give excellent pleasure if he wishes. Wendell clearly didn't wish that! As he also knew what caused pain, and how to deliver that. Freddy was in for it!

What Wendell didn't know, was that Freddy had been subjected to all combinations of pain, humiliation, and pleasure in the last few weeks. I suspected he was slowly becoming a pain pig. With Michael operating the hand held camera and giving us close-ups of the action, it was clear that despite the pain that had our fuck toy groaning, his little dick was once again trying to get hard in its cage! That must be so confusing for him!

Wendell varied his speed, but never the brutality of his thrusts. Freddy couldn't anticipate anything. And the result was that Wendell lasted longer than Michael had! Wendell shot his load deep into Freddy, as the boy groaned and whimpered in frustration. Despite how long the two fuckings had taken, our boy had failed to cum, and it was making him crazy! (We were sitting in the driveway of our house for the last twenty minutes of it. This part George got to watch live!)

Freddy was ordered to his knees, and was to required to alternate between Michael and Wendell, as he first licked them clean, then was required to provide oral service. His father allowed him to `enthusiastically' suck his cock. Wendell brutally fucked his face, only rarely giving the boy a chance to breathe. When Wendell finished, Freddy was gasping and exhausted. If the newly minted teen slave thought he was finished, his father was quick to disabuse him of that notion.

"Wendell, take him to the bathroom and clean him out. When you're done, put him back on the bed. Then inform the co-pilot it's his turn. We only need one pilot at a time in the cockpit, when we're in cruise."

Wendell grinned and said, "Yes, Master."

I suspected Freddy would need time to heal, when he came back from Thanksgiving.

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I love hearing from readers. Those emails are a big part of my motivation to write. And I certainly don't mind constructive criticism. It's how I learn. Ideas and suggestions also welcome.

You can email me at: rmacanus@email.com

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