Small Town Slave Boys Chapter 17
Small Town Slave Boys
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This story is a reboot of the original Small Town Slave Boy story.
This story will be found in the gay/authoritarian subcategory. It's tangentially connected to the College Magic Series, but there are no supernatural elements.
Dylan Morgan is the son of a homophobic minister named Craig Morgan. He was one of four children in the Morgan household, not including their cousin Kieran who came to stay with the family when he lost his parents at the age of 12. This story tells of his life and how he became a slave to his best friend Kurt Groth.
The plural Boys refers to the fact that Dylan's uncle Cory is also slave to Kurt's father Roger.
This story is mostly told from Dylan's point of view, but occasionally the point of view shifts to another character. The text will always tell you when there has been a shift in POV.
There will be scenes of dominance and submission, as well as some bondage and domination, and a little light masochism, but this is not a story of objectification, and it's not a one-sided story. It's a love story with D/s and BDSM elements.
There will be some non-consensual scenes in later chapters, non-consensual in the sense that the main characters will choose to engage in some activities to avoid being outed too early, but the activities between the principal characters are consensual.
For those who appreciate this kind of story read on; others be forewarned.
This story is fantasy. In the real-world consent is not only important, but also sexy.
Please remember that NIFTY is a free site that provides an invaluable resource for men like us. Please consider donating to help ensure that site remains available for everyone. https://donate.nifty.org/
You can contact me at pseudonominius@gmail.com.
Author's Notes
● If you want to be informed of new stories, send me an email, and ask to be put on the notification list. I'll send a notification. Everyone will be on the bcc line so your email address will not show to other members.
● I have created a google group for people who want to get more information about my stories in that format. Only I can view the member list, so data should be secure. If a reader sends a question my way, I will post the answer to that group after removing any information about the reader. It's a good way to get more background information if you want. https://groups.google.com/g/pseudominius-stories
● While this storyline is designed to stand alone, you may have a better idea about some of the background if you read My Roommate the Alchemist and Alchemy and Songcraft, since Kieran Morgan is a character in both story lines. This story stands alone, however. When these characters interact with the characters in College Magic, the entire scene pertaining to this story will be included here.
● My editor is Robbear (robbear78@gmail.com). He not only edited this story but provided a lot of insight and suggestions that made the story better.
Links to My Stories
● My Roommate the Alchemist (Concluded)
● Wishcraft (Concluded)
● Alchemy and Songcraft
● Magery
● Elf Master
● The Pack
● Tales of Severan
Other Stories
Small Town Slave Boys Chapter 17
Tommy
This last week, staying with Donny, had been great, except for the fact that Dylan wasn't there. I'd just gotten him broken in and trained when Dad had to ruin it by beating the crap out of him. But I'd shown him. At fifteen years old, I'd already gotten tough enough to take my old man. I'd laid him out twice and I'd do it again if he touched my brother. Dylan was my bitch, and no one was ever going to lay hands on him again.
The image of Kurt Groth flashed across my mind. He was a problem. A six foot tall, stocky, football player of a problem. Earlier this week, I'd realized that Kurt was Dylan's mystery boyfriend. Dylan shaved his body, his cunt, and his clit for Kurt. I'd come to terms with the fact that he'd been fucking my brother, but Dylan had me now. He didn't need anyone else getting inside his bussy.
I hadn't even been able to see Dylan at school. After Dad had beaten him with a belt, he was on bed rest for the week, and he'd been staying at Kurt's house. But I had found a new bitch at school, a cute little faggot named Patty O'Rourke. Once he realized I wasn't going to hit him or out him, he'd been more than happy to suck my cock every day. And this Saturday I was going to spend the night at Patty's House. I was going to fuck him this weekend.
But today was Friday and Donny had promised me a surprise when I got home. And I couldn't wait. Donny was a pretty good older brother. He and I had a lot in common. We were both alpha males who knew how to use a bitch properly. We even looked alike. Since he was four and half years older than me, he was taller, but pound for pound I was stronger than him. When I reached his height, I'd be even tougher than he was.
Dylan
This last week had been torturous for me. I liked studying from home better than going to school, so that wasn't the problem. The issue was that my doctor had ordered me to stay off my back and my butt. And my Uncle Cory interpreted that to mean that Kurt couldn't fuck me. I didn't mind sucking Kurt's dick, in fact I loved it, but an entire week without feeling his big cock inside me was making me needy. He'd offered to jerk me off, but I'd declined. Cumming from getting fucked felt so much better to me than masturbating, but it had taken some time to consistently reach orgasm that way. And I knew that it had just gotten better since I'd stopped stroking my dick. If Kurt stroked it for me, not only would it not feel as good, but it would take a lot of time before it started feeling as good as it did now.
But, today, Doctor Josie had given me the okay. She'd removed the bandages on my upper thighs and my back. She'd even tweaked my nose and whispered, "You can have sex with your boyfriend if he promises to take it easy on you."
I'd immediately texted Kurt.
"Doctor J says we're good but you have to be gentle Mr."
"I can be gentle SB."
He often called me SB in texts. It was short for Slave Boy. And I called him Mr which was short for Master.
"I prefer it rough Mr."
"You'll take it gentle and like it SB!"
He accompanied this with a winking emoji.
"Yes SIR!"
"I'll be home after practice."
"I'll be waiting."
"Shave and send me a picture."
I needed a shower anyway after a week with only sponge baths, but now I had something to be excited about. I wasn't shaving anymore. I'd discovered Aussie Nads. They had a depilatory formula for sensitive areas of the body, so I used it regularly instead. And today, as soon as I'd removed what little hair I had, I took a series of pictures and sent them to Kurt. I never text them because they couldn't be encrypted. I always emailed them instead.
Then I set a timer, so I'd remember to clean my ass at just the right time. I decided to bake some cookies for Kurt and the guys. I had to kill some time while waiting for my master to come home and fuck me good.
Cory
Marge, the office manager, came up behind me and swatted my butt when no was looking. She gave me a wink and said, "It's almost three, Cory, you'd better get your behind in the boss's office. It's time for his relaxation break."
I knew what time it was. I'd kept this appointment every day, when both Roger and I were working, for the past six years. That was when Roger had established this standing appointment. And, every day, exactly one hour before 3 p.m., I used Roger's private bathroom to clean my ass. Not a deep cleaning. That wasn't necessary if a bottom ate right and used a fiber supplement. Just a light douching with an anal bulb. An hour lead time was enough for the natural secretions in the rectum to remoisturize enough for comfortable penetration.
I gave her a smile and said, "Don't worry, Marge. I'm going."
"Well don't dawdle, sweet cheeks. We all want the boss to be happy; and it's your job to see that he is."
She gave me a look that said she wanted me to know exactly what I did for the boss. It was no surprise. She knew everything that happened in the office. I smiled back at her and said, "Yes, ma'am!"
I was Roger's Personal Assistant (emphasis on the Ass), and I reported directly to him. Marge wasn't my boss, but she acted like she was, and I didn't really care. I had only one person above me in the corporate org chart, but no one below me. Everyone knew that any instructions I gave came directly from the boss.
I entered Roger's office and locked the door. He was sitting behind the desk, holding a riding crop in one hand. I could feel the blood rushing to my dick. Roger saw my excitement and said, "Somebody's excited today."
I nodded and said, "Yes, Boss, I am. I've been home for the last four days and I've missed this."
I'd taken Dylan home early on Tuesday and I'd stayed with him until this morning. Josie Kurtz came over to check on him today and said he could do some things for himself now, so I'd come in to work. It had been great getting closer to my nephew, but I think he'd gotten tired of having his uncle coddling him. He pretty much pushed me out the door.
"I've missed it too, Cory. Now get your clothes off and prepare to get your ass tanned."
He stood up and walked over the futon. I stripped my clothes off as fast as I could and took my place, leaning over the back of the couch, with my ass raised and legs spread. I was only wearing a black jock, the golden slave chain around my neck and a plug firmly lodged in my ass. Roger ran a hand down my back and wiggled it.
"Is this still keeping you calm?" he asked.
"Yes, Boss. It's doing its job."
I'd been growing increasingly agitated at the thought of Dylan going back to his parents' house on Monday, so Roger had taken to keeping a big plug in my ass. It may sound strange but having something in my ass always calmed me down. Roger had discovered that years ago.
"Good," he said, "because Marge told me you didn't eat lunch today and that usually means that you're anxious about something."
"That's because I sat Dylan down and made him eat this morning, so I ate with him before coming in," I replied.
And that was the truth. Dylan avoided food unless someone reminded him to eat, and he looked like he'd lost weight. How anyone could do that while lying on his belly all day, doing nothing physical, I had no idea. But Roger was right. Dylan probably inherited body issues from me, as well as his looks. I often skipped meals, especially if I saw the slightest bit of flab on my body. Dylan had no flab, but he'd told me that he thought he was too heavy. The boy only weighed 115 pounds and he freaked out about gaining an ounce.
"That's what I hoped, Cory. I need you to be a positive influence on Dylan, instead of him being a negative influence on you."
"Yes, Sir!" I replied.
"Okay then. You don't need punishment, so this spanking is purely for our pleasure. Do you want it soft or hard?"
I don't know why he ever bothered to ask. My response was always the same. "Give it to me hard, Sir!"
Roger ran the riding crop along my hamstrings and then stuck it between my thighs to gently tap my scrotum. A thrill ran through me, but I knew he wouldn't smack my testicles for real, not without putting a gag in my mouth. I love a little rough play with my balls, but it always makes me scream.
Roger leaned over and whispered, "Maybe later."
Then he smacked my ass with the riding crop, sending a jolt of pain up my spine. At work I was required to respond in a quiet voice, not much more than a whisper. "One, Sir. Thank you, Sir."
I wasn't allowed to call him "master" unless we were alone. I wasn't even allowed to hug him, unless we were home, because we were still closeted. He'd told me that was going to end soon, that we were going to get married. But even then he probably wouldn't want to expose our kinks to the world.
Roger smacked my ass again, and again. He gave me twenty good strokes and I counted every one of them. Then he ran his hands across my ass and said, "Nice and red, baby. Just how we both like it."
He toyed with the plug in my ass, and I moaned, "Oh yes, Sir. Tease my hole."
He pulled it out part way and then let it go so that my ass slowly swallowed it again. He did that a couple of times. I was so aroused that the pouch of my jock was getting wet. Then he pulled the toy out completely. My ass felt empty and my hole was twitching, but I immediately felt my anxiety start to rise. Roger examined the plug and gave it a sniff before setting it aside. Then he rubbed my hole with his thumb, which made my dick jump.
"Does that feel good, baby? Do you like your master teasing your boy hole?"
He could say master because he trusted himself to keep it quiet. I groaned, "Yes, Sir! My hole is hungry for you. It wants you inside it."
He pressed his index finger inside me and stroked my prostate. "You're so warm and silky smooth inside, Cory. I can't wait to get inside you."
Of course he played with my ass some more. He hated the taste of lube, and I needed it to get that plug inside my ass, so he didn't eat me out today. But he did lube up his fingers and thrust them inside me, first the one, then a second and then a third. He fucked my ass with his fingers while he twisted them around and spread them out, stretching my hole. The stress I had felt on having an empty ass started to subside again. Over the course of twelve years, he'd fucked me more than a thousand times, probably a lot more. My ass knew his touch and it was trained to relax and accept him. He teased me with a fourth finger, thrusting in and out, but never going past the knuckles.
He whispered, "Do you want my whole hand inside you, Cory?"
"Fuck, yes," I whispered back.
"Too bad. The good lube is at home. I can't do it here, but I'll do it for you sometime this weekend. I promise that I'll play with your hole for an hour, maybe more. But right now, I need to drop a load in your hot ass so bad."
He pulled his hand out and pressed his cock inside my slimy and expanded hole. Roger knew my body intimately. He knew where every magic spot was, and he had no trouble getting into my ass at the right angle to prod my prostate with each thrust. Both of us were already very excited when Roger played with my ass, so we were pretty close to orgasm. Still, Roger, my sexy stud, managed to hold out for almost ten minutes. I knew he was really close when he grabbed my nuts and squeezed them hard. Damn he knew what I liked!
He applied gradually increasing pressure and said, "Cum for me now, Cory. Let me squeeze your spunk right out of your nuts. Do it."
I started whimpering. "Mm, mm, mm, mm. Do it, Sir. Punch my g-spot and crush my fucking nuts!"
The orgasm began in my scrotum, and it crashed over my body like a tsunami of pleasure. I started shooting into the pouch of my jock and my asshole chewed on his cock. He thrust deep inside me and held it there while I milked him dry.
"Damn! Your ass is still the best thing in the whole fucking universe, Cory. I'm... Oh fuck!" He was desperately trying to keep his voice quiet, "I'm cumming. Take my load, baby. Take the whole thing. It's just for you, only for you."
When we'd both cum, Roger shoved that plug back inside my squishy and sensitive hole and said, "Now keep your master's load inside you like a good little slave boy."
"Yes, Sir!" I replied.
Then he sat on the couch, and I sat on his lap. We kissed and I ran my hands through the manly mat of hair on his chest. There were more than a few gray hairs among the brown. He had gray at his temples as well and on his back, in the pelt that had grown thicker over the last ten years. He saw me playing with his salt and pepper hairs and asked, "Am getting too old for you, Cory?
I leaned in and kissed him. "No, Sir. Gray hair makes a man like you even sexier."
I said nothing about the thinning hair on top of his head. I knew he was a little sensitive about it, but I thought it made him look mature and powerful. Overall, I was glad that I still looked younger than my thirty years, and I was really glad that Roger had just gotten sexier in my eyes every year."
Tommy
I had to take the bus home to Donny's apartment since he was busy today. I still had no idea what my oldest brother did for a job. Sometimes he went out at night. I suspected he was selling drugs, but I didn't know for sure. He had money enough to buy whatever he wanted, though.
Donny had told me to text when I got off the bus, so I did. And then I walked the five minutes to get to his apartment. When I came in, I got the surprise of my life. Donny was sitting on the couch wearing only a Kid Rock tee shirt. His hairy legs were spread and there was a guy kneeling on the floor, sucking his dick.
"Come on in, little bro. Put your backpack down and get your pants off. This here's my faggot, Jamie. As soon as he swallows my load, he'll suck yours."
I wasted no time. I dropped my bag on the floor and then took my jeans off as fast as I could. From behind, this guy looked fit. He had short brown hair and a muscular back. I flopped down on the couch next to Donny and took a good look at the guy. He was average height and build, but I could see his muscles clearly under his smooth skin. He was as hairless as Dylan and handsome enough, if a little too muscular for my taste. Like I said, I preferred girly fags like Dylan and Patty. My eyes, however, were drawn to a pink plastic device of some kind that covered his dick.
"Who is this guy?" I asked.
Donny smiled and said, "This is Jamie Beck. He's the landlord here at these apartments. At least he's the manager. His dad is the owner, but Jamie lives here and keeps an eye on things."
"How did you get him to suck your dick?"
"It wasn't hard. He kept cruising me whenever he saw me in the parking lot," Donny replied with a smirk.
"Um... what's cruising?" I asked.
Donny smiled and put a brotherly arm around my shoulders. "Cruising is when a fag keeps hanging around and watching you, giving you signals that he wants your dick. With enough experience, you'll learn to recognize it."
"So, he came to you, looking for your dick?" I said.
Donny nodded. "He sure did. He was practically panting when he saw me in my gray sweats. He knew then that he had to get my big dick inside him."
I looked over. Donny did have a big dick, probably eight inches or so. I was fifteen and mine was already about six and half. I wondered if I would get as big as Donny before I stopped growing. I hadn't said anything, so Donny continued.
"Jamie here was desperate, so I invited him over for a beer. He kept looking at my dick and I kept rubbing it through my sweats until he was drooling. When I offered it to him, he jumped on the chance."
"Okay. So what is that pink thing on his dick?" I asked.
Donny chuckled and said, "That's a chastity device. It keeps him from getting hard."
"Why does he wear it?"
"I don't know why he started wearing it. All I know is that one day I dragged him in here to suck my dick and he was wearing it. He said it was exciting to be locked up, but that it wasn't as exciting as it would be if someone else held the key for him. When I told him that I would do it, he ran back to his apartment and brought all four of them with him. Now he wears it because I want him to. I get to keep him naked and horny, ready to be fucked, and I don't have to look at his cock."
Donny's breath had been growing shallower and faster for the last couple of minutes. He grabbed Jamie's head and held it tight against his groin, burying all eight inches in his throat. "FUCK YEAH! I'M SHOOTING RIGHT DOWN THIS FAGGOT'S THROAT. TAKE IT BITCH! SWALLOW IT ALL!"
When he was done, he pulled Jamie off his dick and slapped his face with it. "Get over there and suck my brother's dick, faggot."
"He's just a kid, Sir!" Jamie complained.
Danny slapped him harder upside the head. "Did I ask you how old he was?"
"N-no! Sir!"
"Then don't tell me. Just get your cocksucking lips on my brother's dick and swallow his load!"
Jamie hesitated until Donny raised his hand again and then he scooted over between my legs and swallowed my cock in one try. This guy was a talented cock sucker. I felt no teeth, just a soft, warm mouth and a lot of suction. "Damn he's good!" I cried.
Donny nodded. "Yep. He could be a professional whore, but I don't want to risk any diseases. He's now an exclusive Morgan brother cocksucker and fuck toy."
"He doesn't suck anyone else?" I asked.
Donny shook his head, "Nah. He used to drive over to Evansville on the weekends to go to the bars, but I put an end to that. This faggot likes to get bossed around, so I took charge. He doesn't go anywhere without my permission. I added his phone to my account so I can keep track of where he is at all times."
"If you're paying for his cellphone, doesn't that mean you're paying him for sex?" I asked.
"Not a chance," Donny replied. "He's on my account, but he pays the monthly bill. He also comes over here and cleans my apartment and does my laundry. Hell, I'm listed as the handyman for this apartment complex, but Jamie here does all the work. Now that I have him on a tight leash, he has plenty of time available. Ain't that right, Jamie?"
The naked man mumbled, "Mm-hmm," without taking his mouth off my cock.
I sighed and looked over at Donny. "I like that feeling, bro. Jamie's throat is vibrating around my cock."
Donny leaned forward and tousled Jamie's hair. "I know. Sing for my baby brother, bitch."
I couldn't tell what song Jamie was singing, or rather humming, around my cock. I just lay back and enjoyed the sensations on my cock. Damn! It felt nice. I knew I wasn't going to last much longer. I was fifteen and I had a hair trigger. Patty had sucked my dick at lunch, but I was ready to shoot again.
That's when Donny surprised me. He brushed Jamie's damp hair off his sweaty brow. "Jamie here is a real treasure, Tommy. Sure, he's my slave and he knows he has to do anything and everything you say, but I don't want you fucking with him. I mean, you can fuck him if you want to, but you don't hit him and you treat him with the same respect you do everything I own."
I decided to tease him, maybe a little too much. I laughed. "It sounds like you're in love."
Danny grabbed my hair and yanked my head back. The look on his face was terrifying. "I am not some faggot to fall in love with a dude, so get that thought out of your head! Jamie is my bitch, my slave. Sure he's handsome. I wouldn't want some troll sucking my dick. And he's got an amazing body. But I wouldn't want to stick my dick in someone who wasn't. Fuck! He's good looking enough that I'd probably make him my girlfriend, but he's not, so he's just a faggot slave who sucks my cock and take it up his ass!"
"Okay! Sorry. I was just joking," I said.
Donny let go of my hair and leaned back. "Just don't forget it."
I had been joking, but I thought that I must have really hit a nerve. Did my big, tough, bad boy of a brother actually love Jamie? He was acting like it. Fuck! I knew Donny liked girls. He'd fucked a lot of them and he'd had two pregnancy scares, that I knew of, including the one in high school that our self-righteous hypocrite of a father had taken care of. Donny told me shortly after it had happened. Dad had driven the two of them across the border into Illinois and paid for her to have an abortion without her parents even knowing. Of course that didn't change his preaching about the evils of abortion one bit.
But I realized that Donny hadn't mentioned a girl in almost a year. I dared to ask, "How long has this bitch been sucking your dick?"
Donny didn't pick up on the hidden purpose of my question. He said, "I met him thirteen months ago, but I didn't take control of his dick and his life until three months after that."
It all fit together. Donny had been seeing Jamie seriously for ten months and he'd stopped seeing girls. He hadn't realized it, but he was totally in love with Jamie. His words said he wasn't, but the tone of his words said otherwise. He was leaning forward again and rubbing the back of Jamie's neck, like he was reassuring him.
Jamie Beck
I couldn't believe I was sucking a teenager's dick. Well, I'd started sucking Don's when he was still a teenager, but nineteen and fifteen are not the same thing at all. Tommy wasn't attractive to me, but Don had ordered me to do it, so I was doing it. Donny was amazingly attractive to me. Six feet tall, fit, red hair, a ton of freckles and blue eyes. And his cock was... well, as a dedicated bottom it was hard for me to find someone who wasn't smaller than my seven and half inches. Most supposed tops who saw my cock suddenly decided they were really bottoms and wanted me to fuck them, but that wasn't my thing. I'd done it twice. I got off, of course, but it wasn't exciting to me. I liked guys who wanted my ass. And I had a thing for rough looking bad boys. No doubt that Don fit that description.
Donny had seen my big dick and he didn't care. His exact words were imprinted on my mind. "I don't care how big your cock is, faggot. I don't want to see it, and I'm not going to touch it."
That was the moment I'd decided that I wanted to do more than give this sexy redhead a casual blowjob. I'd played around with chastity, and I'd loved it, so I made sure to wear my chastity device whenever I thought Don would see me. And I'd stopped using underwear because I wanted him to see it when I dropped my pants. And, boy, had it ever worked. When Don had seen it and made me explain it to him, the most wicked smile came over his face. He'd made me run back to my apartment and bring him the keys. My hands had been shaking when I'd handed him not four keys, but five. All four keys to the padlock on my chastity and the key to my apartment.
Since then, I'd sucked Don's cock every day, and he'd fucked me two to three times a week. He used to unlock me once a month to let me masturbate in private before locking myself back up. But six months ago, I left a printout of an article on ruined orgasms on the table near my computer. As I'd hoped, he'd been reading it when I came back to the room with a tray of snacks for him.
He'd given me a smirk and asked, "Is this what you want, Jamie?"
I'd imagined a scenario where Don hadn't given me a choice, where he'd just decided that from now on all my orgasms were going to be ruined, but this was more humiliating. And humiliation was a major turn on for me. I'd blushed and replied, "A chastity slave doesn't deserve to have unspoiled orgasms, Sir."
He shook his head. "You are one twisted little bitch, Jamie. If this is what you want, I'm going to give it to you. But this is not the first time you've referred to yourself as a chastity slave. If I do this for you. If I put my hands on your dick and edge you, like it says in this article, then that word, slave, is going to be more than just a fantasy. If I do this for you, you're going to be my slave for real."
He'd been talking tough, but his voice was... seductive was the word. I'd felt that he was getting into this idea and that his mind was changing. He'd always thought of me as a convenient cocksucker and piece of ass to fuck, but his voice had said that he wanted more. He'd wanted a relationship, a weird as hell, perverted relationship, where he was in charge, and I'd do whatever he wanted. And that made him perfect for me because that's what I wanted.
Don had always said that he was straight, but after that point, he started referring to himself as bi. Maybe he was, but I could tell when he stopped seeing girls. That was the point when I stopped tasting them on his cock. I loved it when he thought he was straight, but I could live with bisexual Don so long as he never started acting like a bottom. Sure, I pleasured his ass with my tongue, and yeah, he'd started making sure it was clean enough to eat. He loved it, but he never asked me to stick anything inside him, aside from my tongue, and I had no desire to do so.
I cleaned his apartment. I did his laundry. I kept myself hairless for him. I kept myself fit for him. I sucked his dick. I rode his dick. I hired him as a handyman and then did the work myself. And what did I get out of it? I had a man to fulfill my fantasies, a man who gave me his cock to pleasure and to fill me to satisfaction, a man who spent several nights a week sleeping in my bed, holding me in his arms. That last part hadn't happened since Tommy had come to live with him, though.
Maybe that would change now that Tommy knew about me. I wasn't attracted to him. He looked like his older brother, but every feature that was so attractive on Don was bland and unattractive on Tommy. Maybe it was because he was young and still had a baby face. I'd never been attracted to younger men until Don. He was five years younger than me, but he was so masculine and tough that he seemed older. Even when I was in high school, I'd spent my time sucking the dicks of my dad's business partners, his senior employees, and his friends. I'd blown three of my high school teachers and the fathers of two of my friends. I'd never wasted time with boys, and I wished I didn't have to now. But if servicing Tommy allowed things to go back to normal between Don and me, then I'd do it.
A weird vision flashed before my eyes, a vision of the two Morgan brothers using me at the same time. I nearly came in my chastity thinking about it.
When Tommy came in my mouth, I sucked him clean and dry. Then Don jumped up and dragged me to the middle of the floor. He lubed me with his rough fingers and spit, getting me just slick enough to take his cock. He knew I liked it rough, so he thrust rudely inside me and fucked me hard. My cock had gone from oozing precum to oozing cum. I spilled my pent up seed on the floor while he fucked me. He was being even rougher with me than usual, probably to show his younger brother what a macho stud he was. He didn't tell me how sweet my ass was. He didn't get so close to saying he loved me that I could hear it in the words he didn't say.
When he came, he just grunted, "Take my load inside your fag hole, bitch. Take it while you spill your worthless dick snot on the floor."
Then he pulled out of me and shoved his cock in my mouth so I could clean it. I tasted his cum, my ass, and an unpleasant undertone of lube. Well, two out of three ain't bad. While I sucked his cock clean, Don called out, "Get over here and fuck his ass, bro. It's the most amazing pussy I've ever had."
There it was. He'd told me before that my ass was better than any pussy he'd fucked. He'd said the same thing about my mouth. I knew he loved me, and truth be told, it excited me that he didn't get all mushy about it. The hints and subtle innuendos were more exciting to me than any passionate declaration of love.
Was it homophobic of me, even as a gay man, that I preferred my lover to seem as straight as possible?
Steven
"Just shut up and kiss me," Damian said tugging on my belt.
Damian's car had been sideswiped by someone in a blue sedan while he was driving home after school today. He'd had it towed to Groth Automotive and then called me for a ride. Now we were in his room, while his parents were downstairs, his mother making dinner, which she insisted I stay for, and his father making calls to the insurance company. He was physically fine, but he'd been a little shaken up on the way home. Maybe that's what was making him a little reckless.
I glanced nervously at the door, but Damian was insistent. He rose on his tip toes and kissed me instead. I gave in to my libido and crushed his lips with his own, despite the danger that someone could come in and see us. He tugged my belt a little harder, leading me toward the bed. I picked him up and carried him over to lay him down on the twin size mattress. Then I climbed on top of him to kiss him some more. He spread his legs wide so there was room for me between them.
Damian was six feet tall, but I had five inches on him, so he seemed small beneath me. He tried to reach for my cock, but I took his hands and held them over his head. Then I started thrusting my cock against his, through our pants. We were both hard and the pressure of our cocks grinding against one another was almost as good as a hand, maybe better, since it wasn't something we did all the time.
"Do it, Steve. Pound my cock with yours," Damian whispered.
Damian rarely said the word fuck, and apparently pound was the next best thing, because he was well-behaved altar boy. Well-behaved except for all the gay sex that was. I ground against him harder. "Is that what I'm doing, lover, fucking your cock?"
"It sure feels like it. Your cock is a hammer, and it's going to pound the cum right out of me."
"I'm not crushing your nuts am I?" I asked.
He smiled at me and said, "You are definitely pounding my balls as well, but it feels good. Don't stop."
Damian had recently discovered that he liked some light pain. And I didn't mind giving it to him, so long as it remained light. I could play games with my lover, but I had no interest in hurting him. I pressed a little harder against him and he let out a deep throated sigh.
"Like that?" I asked.
He pressed his groin up against me, an impish smile playing across his lips. "You'd better believe it, stud."
We kissed some more and continued to grind against one another until we both shot in our briefs. Damian was noisy when he came, so in order to keep both of us quiet, I sealed his lips with mine and held him tight against me. He came first; his body trembled with the force of his orgasm and that brought me over the edge as well.
When we pulled apart, Damian gave me a mischievous wink. "You had better go into the bathroom and take your briefs off before your spunk soaks into your jeans. I have fresh underwear in that drawer over there, but, sadly, they're already tight on me, and there's no chance they will fit you. So, unlike you, I won't have to go commando during dinner."
It was true that Damian was smaller than me and he wore his underwear very tight – which I completely supported. I knew he would have a pair of shorts that would suffice. They'd be tight, but not too obscene. But my boy was taking charge and I liked it. I turned him over and smacked his butt harder and louder than I intended and exclaimed, "Brat!"
He rolled back over and said, "But I'm a sexy brat. Don't deny it."
I kissed him again. "You are the sexiest brat in the world!"
Then I went to the upstairs bathroom and took my briefs off. I'd shot a big load and they were soaked. I used them to clean the rest of the semen off my cock. I planned to run them out to my truck while no one was looking and then come back in for dinner, but Damian was waiting for me. He held out his hands and said, "Give them to me. I want to keep them for a while."
I handed them to him, and he lifted them to his nose to take a whiff. Then he opened them up and stuck his tongue in the thickest pool of semen and waggled his eyebrows at me. I shook my head at him and said, "The sexiest and the kinkiest brat in the world."
"And you love it," he said.
Then he took the briefs back inside his room and stuck them in one of the pouches of his backpack. I had to readjust my dick in my jeans. I needed to have a talk with Damian. Ever since his brother had told him to tone down his dress so that he was less obviously gay, he'd been engaging in riskier behavior in private, like he wanted someone to find out.
I started to join him in his room to have that talk, but his mother took that moment to call up the stairs, "Dinner's ready, boys! Come on down so we can get started!"
Damian joined me in the hallway and reached up to give me a quick kiss before we headed downstairs. Damian was the youngest and he was the only one who still lived at home. Since all his brothers and sisters were at their own houses, it was just the four of us for dinner.
Mrs. Wilder had made beef stew. Hers was rich and savory, full of mushrooms, carrots, potatoes, and onions. And it was redolent with thyme and hints of the beer she'd used to cook it. She'd also made homemade bread. She was an excellent cook and I always enjoyed dinner at her house.
We were both seated on the seat behind the table, the "kiddie bench" as they called it. Damian had moved our place settings there as soon as he'd come down. I soon realized he'd done it because there wasn't a lot of space between the table and the wall and that meant that he could put his hand on my thigh while we ate. It was difficult to hold a conversation with his parents while Damian's fingers were brushing against my cock.
Mr. Wilder said, "It looks like you'll be without a car for a couple of weeks, Damian. I guess you'll have to take the bus to school. And you'll have to ride with the team to the meet over in Evansville this weekend."
Damian brushed his hand against my cock again, but his face was a mask of pure innocence. "Can you drive me, Steve? I know that you try to make the local meets. Are you interested in a road trip to support your former teammates?"
Mrs. Wilder sighed. "Damian, don't badger Steven. He's an adult now and he may be too busy to drive a bunch of high school students all over the state."
I thought about it for a moment then said, "It's not a problem. I'll tell Coach that I want to volunteer. He'll be happy to have me back to help chaperone, since it's an overnight trip."
That was true. Coach Higgins was always short on chaperones. Rather, he always had the bare minimum required by the school, but he appreciated more hands on deck when it came to a dozen teenagers in a hotel overnight.
Damian took a drink of lemonade, drawing out the moment. Then he gave his mother his sweetest smile. "Steve doesn't mind. He knows everyone on the team, except for the freshmen, and he likes supporting us, but I think I'd better spend the night, so he doesn't have to get up too early to come pick me up."
It wasn't really that Damian was manipulating his parents. The fact was that he was the baby of the family and they always let him do what he wanted, even if they argued with him first. No, what he was really doing was telling me that he wanted me to go with him again. I don't know why he couldn't wait until we were alone to discuss this and then tell his folks. Was this more of that risky behavior, this possible desire to be caught out? We really needed to have that talk. Anyway, it would be up to me to convince Coach to let him room with me. It was against the rules, but I suspected that Coach wouldn't say anything because it was me. But it turned out that I wouldn't have to talk to Coach. Damian had it all figured out.
He looked at his dad and said, "Can you write me a note to room with Steve? I have some homework this weekend and if I'm sharing with my teammates, they'll be too noisy for me to get any work done."
Mr. Wilder sighed. "You're going to break my wallet, Son. I guess I'll have to pay for Steven's room since you're the reason he's going to be staying in the hotel."
"That's not necessary, sir," I replied.
"Consider it to be babysitting money. I need you to make sure Damian completes his homework," Mr. Wilder replied.
Then Mrs. Wilder got into the game. "And you have to make sure that he brushes his teeth and gets to sleep on time."
I shrugged. "Okay then. I'll let you pay half, and I'll be sure to make sure Damian gets in bed with plenty of time to rest."
And that was how Damian convinced his parents to let him stay at my house the night before a school road trip, and how he convinced me to go away with him for the second weekend in a row. It wasn't just Damian's parents who were wrapped around his little finger. And it would be nice to watch the team swimming in their speedos during the day and then take Damian back to the room and fuck him afterward.
And once again, it felt like Mr. Wilder was paying me to fuck his sexy son. I didn't like the idea that I was betraying his trust, but there was no way that I was going to stop having sex with Damian. If we could keep it hidden for six more weeks (almost five now), he would be eighteen and we could, legally, be totally open about our relationship. How people would react could be an entirely different matter.
Kurt
I was horny as hell all through football practice. Unlike Dylan, I hadn't gone without relief all week. My sweet little slave boy had sucked my cock twice a day, every day. But, this evening, after dinner, I was going to fuck him again. And no matter how horny I was, I'd promised myself I wouldn't cum until I'd fucked him to orgasm. That was the only way Dylan liked it.
Being separated, or rather me being kept from pleasuring him, for the last four days had given me a chance to think. Dylan wanted to be my slave. And I loved owning him. I'd continue treating him as my slave, something we both enjoyed, but, in my mind, he was my boyfriend. The issue for me was that he would never tell me what he wanted. All he ever said was, "whatever you want me to do". After a long talk with Dad, I found out that Cory, his lover and Dylan's Uncle, was the same. Dad said that it was my responsibility, as the dom in our relationship, to make sure that Dylan got what he truly wanted. The power and responsibility were an enormous sexual rush, but it was also a lot to shoulder. It seemed to me that being a good master was more difficult than being a good slave.
I was changing clothes in the locker room when my best friend Greg came up to me, naked but for a towel wrapped around his waist. He saw me standing there in my knit shorts, holding my tee shirt. "Dude, aren't you going to shower before you go? You are – no offense intended – kind of ripe."
I gave him a smile and a wink. "Doesn't your girlfriend like your scent? Because my... um... D loves my scent. Can't get enough of it."
He shook his head and said, "I'll never understand D, you are lucky to have found... D. Um... how's D doing?"
I stepped up so I could whisper, "He's doing better. Doc says it's okay for me to fuck him this evening."
"And his back?"
I sighed. "There may be some scarring. Doc says there are creams that can reduce them. D's so insecure that I'm going to need to give him a lot of reassurance. He thinks his only value is his body."
Greg didn't know the answer to my dilemma, and he didn't pretend that he did. He gave me a bro hug and said, "You've got this Kurt. You're a great boyfriend. D couldn't be in better hands."
"Thanks, bro," I said, giving his shoulder a squeeze. "It may be a good idea for me to share him with you again. Not immediately, but in a week or so. Then you can tell him that he's still sexy as well. He may not believe it, coming just from me."
Greg clapped both my shoulders with his hands. "I will be more than happy to help you out with that, bro. Just let me know when."
For someone who'd never thought about having sex with a guy before, Greg really seemed to be into Dylan. From the first time he'd seen us lying together in that big gay heap in my living room, he'd been talking about how cute Dylan was. And once he'd realized that Dylan was my boyfriend and not competition for him as my best platonic friend, he'd taken him under his protective wing at school. He really was my best friend.
**********
When I came in, the delicious smell of tomatoes, garlic and onions filled the house. I went into the kitchen and saw a beautiful sight. Dylan and Cory were working together to make dinner. Both were dressed in tiny little shorts that showed off their entire leg up to the curve of their buttocks. Cory's was firm and muscular. His cheeks looked fine poking out at me when he bent down to grab a baking sheet from the drawer. But, as far as I was concerned, Dylan's smaller and softer butt was much more arousing. Cory's cheeks showed the signs of a recent spanking, which wasn't surprising since Dad often left his butt a little pink. I hadn't laid a hand on Dylan, but the backs of his thighs and his butt had shiny pink stripes from the newly healing wounds his father had inflicted on him. He was wearing a tee shirt to cover his torso, which wasn't like him. He'd probably glimpsed similar wounds on his back and was embarrassed.
I moved stealthily up behind Dylan and wrapped my arms around him. He was washing lettuce leaves for salad, but, when he felt my embrace, he immediately dropped the romaine into the colander and leaned back against me. He grabbed the towel and dried his hands. "I hope that's you, Sir, because if it isn't my master is going to be very upset."
I kissed his neck and said, "It's me, sexy slave boy. You look so good that I just want to devour you here in the kitchen."
"Don't you want dinner first, Master?"
I slid one hand inside his shorts and rubbed his sweet hole, making him moan and lean back into me. Then I pulled my hand out and held my finger to his lips. He opened his mouth and sucked it in. "I suppose I should eat dinner first or I won't have the energy to satisfy you properly, you hot little bitch."
I made sure he was steady on his feet before I let him loose. He turned, threw his arms around my neck and buried his face in my chest. He sighed. "I love you, Master."
"I love you too, Slave Boy."
I patted his butt then went over to give Cory a hug and a quick peck on the cheek. I had no idea what to call him. He was my father's slave, the same way Dylan was mine, but he was kind of like... my stepmom? He'd taken care of Steve and I for so long, even when he didn't live here.
Cory said, "Why don't you go sit in the living room, Sir? I'll send Dylan in with a glass of iced tea, and he can take care of you while I get the meatballs done."
I gave him an intent look. "When did I become Sir, Cory?"
He surprised me by kneeling at my feet and looking up at me. "You became Sir when you become a man instead of a boy. Now that you have your own boy to serve you, you've become one of the men of the house and it's only fitting that I show you the proper respect."
A swell of pride ran through me at his words. My relationship with him was changing, and this moment with him kneeling before me felt like a major milestone in my life. "Thank you, Cory. You may rise. And I will be awaiting my slave in the living room."
I turned to Dylan and added, "Two slices of lemon this time."
I heard the words "Yes, Master, right away" as I walked out of the room and sat down on the love seat. I'd walked right past the recliner because that was Dad's seat and, as mature as I felt right now, I knew that I may be a man, but he was still the man of the house.
In a few minutes, Dylan came into the room carrying a small tray with a glass of iced tea, just the way I liked it; two slices of lemon and three ice cubes. He knelt before me, holding the tray out for me to take the glass. I did and he set the tray aside on the coffee table. Then he looked up at me and asked, "Would you like me to remove your socks and shoes for you, Master?"
"Is Cory done with you in the kitchen?"
He nodded. "Yes, Master. He says that he can fry the meatballs himself and that the salad can wait for me to attend to you properly. He also said that I may have to make the salad without him when his master arrives so that he can attend to him properly."
"Then yes. Remove my shoes and socks, Slave Boy."
Despite acknowledging me as a master in the house, Cory was still in charge of the agenda. I would have to talk to Dad so that I could figure out the exact nature of our relationship now that Cory was living in the house with us.
Dylan lovingly removed my Nike trainers. I smiled when I saw him lift the shoe to take a whiff before setting it aside. He'd left his apron in the kitchen, so I could see his little erection pushing against his shorts. When he pulled my socks off and sniffed them, he trembled slightly, and the front of his shorts dampened. He was really getting off on my scent.
He looked up at me with such adoration that I started leaking precum as well. He licked his lips. "Would you like me to massage your feet, Master?"
"Go ahead and massage your master's feet, Slave. Why don't you show me how much you love them?"
He pulled my left foot to his face and inhaled deeply. "Yes, Master. Just sit back and let me soothe your tired feet and relax you after a hard day."
I responded by wiggling my toes against his face. He sighed and began rubbing them. He spent several minutes massaging my feet. He'd never done this for me before, but what he lacked in experience, he more than made up for in enthusiasm. He relaxed muscles I didn't even know were stiff. And his touch felt amazing before he started licking them. A single touch would have made me shoot my load when he sucked my toe into his mouth and started massaging it with his tongue.
I leaned back to enjoy it, reveling in the wet warmth of his mouth. Dylan handled my feet with the utmost reverence, and the expression on his face demonstrated how much he loved the taste. He cleaned each toe and then ran his tongue between them. By the time he was done, there wasn't a square inch of my foot that hadn't been touched by Dylan's tongue.
"You're very good at that, Slave Boy. Who's been giving you lessons in foot massage?" I asked.
Dylan looked up at me with a sly smile and explained. "I love your feet, Master, and I've had a lot of time to research foot worship while I was forced to lay around doing nothing. And Uncle Cory gave me some tips."
I pulled him into my lap and kissed him. "Well, you did that really well."
He could tell how well he'd done from my rock hard erection pressing into his ass. I wanted him so badly right now. All I wanted to do was rip his tiny shorts off and fuck him here on the sofa, but I didn't want to disrespect all the work he and Cory were doing to make dinner for us by putting a glitch in their plans. Instead I held him there and nuzzled his neck.
When Dad came home, he sat down in his recliner and Dylan looked into my eyes and said, "I need to go into the kitchen, Master, and do my part to finish dinner."
In just a few minutes, Cory came into the room. He was carrying a tray that held a beer. He'd already poured it into a chilled beer glass, but I recognized it from the color as an Elliott Ness Amber Lager, one of Dad's favorites. He knelt in front of the chair and held the tray out for him, just like Dylan had done for me. It was obvious that Cory must have been teaching him this procedure today. Dad took the beer and leaned back.
Cory hadn't asked Dad if he wanted a foot massage. He'd come prepared with Dad's slippers. I could have stayed and watched Cory worship my Dad's feet, the way Dylan had done mine, because I wanted to normalize this behavior for each of us, but it felt somewhat intrusive. I'd probably get used to it once the two of them were available to do it at the same time. Instead I went into the kitchen to watch Dylan finish dinner.
**********
The two of them had made homemade fettuccine noodles, marinara sauce, meatballs, garlic bread, and salad. Cory and Dylan didn't eat with us. They liked to wait on us during meals and then eat later, just before cleaning up. They were very attentive, refilling drinks and shaving fresh parmesan onto our salads and pasta. Everything was delicious.
After dinner, before going into the living room, I went into the kitchen and prepared a plate with salad, a very small amount of pasta, and one of Cory's very large meatballs. I placed it on the kitchen table and made Dylan sit down.
"I know that you're still skipping meals, Dylan. I'm trying to be patient, but I want you to eat this entire plate of food." Then I turned to Cory and said, "Don't let him get up until it's done, and don't let him go to the bathroom. I'll let him go before bed."
Cory looked skeptical. "That's not a lot of calories, Sir."
I patted him on the shoulder. "It will be hard enough getting him to eat all of that. I found remnants of his breakfast or lunch shake under the toilet seat in the upstairs bathroom where it must have splashed when he dumped it in the toilet."
Dylan turned red and looked down at the plate I'd put in front of him. I could tell that he was embarrassed at being caught, and also disappointed in himself for failing to follow my instructions about eating consistently. A flash of anger ran through my mind. Steve and I had made sure to show him that we were only asking him to consume the appropriate number of calories and he still resisted. But I didn't let it show, and I forced the anger from my mind. I had to repeat to myself, It isn't Dylan's fault. He needs support, not anger.
Then I knelt at Dylan's side and hugged him. "I love you, Dylan. Do you hear that? I love you. And I get so worried about you. I need you to stay healthy. If you can't do it for yourself, then I'm ordering you to do it for me. I'm your master, and you have to obey me, right?"
He nodded and whispered, "Yes, Master. I'll do as you order."
Cory followed me into the dining room. "I didn't know, Sir. I had no idea he was skipping meals."
"It's okay, Cory. I thought he was doing what he was supposed to until I saw the smoothie stains on the toilet. Just watch him. He not only skips meals, sometimes he forces himself to vomit, especially if we make him eat too much. I know he's supposed to want to fix this problem himself, but he can't seem to do it on his own. Once I get him away from his father, I'm going to introduce the idea of counseling to him, but you know what Craig Fucking Morgan is like."
He closed his eyes and nodded. I didn't know all the details, but I knew that Cory had been thrown out of his house because of something Pastor Morgan did to him back when he was in high school. He said, "I'll watch him, and I'll try talking to him. I know a little bit about self-destructive behavior. And your father spoke to me about being a positive influence for Dylan, so maybe I can help."
Dad was in the living room, so I sat down on the love seat in the spot closest to him. I told him about Dylan not eating again and that I'd enlisted Cory's help to keep an eye on him. Dad seemed to think that was a good idea.
Then I turned to the subject I needed to talk to him about. "Dad, there's something odd that happened today. Cory knelt in front of me and called me Sir."
Dad nodded and replied, "He and I have been talking about the family dynamic now that he's here permanently. We developed a certain pattern during the years I used to visit him at his apartment, before coming home. We had to find some way to integrate that into our household."
He took a drink of his after dinner coffee and appeared deep in thought for a moment. "Cory was the one who brought the subject up, but I agreed with him. You and Steven are both men now. Cory has as much desire to be my slave as Dylan has to be yours. So, from now on, he's going to treat you with the same respect he does me. I think it excites him that he's helped me raise you and now you're graduating to becoming men worthy of his respect."
It wasn't an exaggeration that Cory had helped to raise us. He came over whenever Dylan wasn't here and cleaned the house. He cooked for us and, when we were younger, he often drove us to doctors' appointments and trips to buy school clothes when Dad was busy. He was the only mom I could really remember since I was only five years old when my real mother died.
"So what does that mean, Dad?"
"It means that Cory will obey you. I trust you not to abuse that fact. Also, if he does something that needs correction, you will let him know and then you will record it for me to handle when I come home. I'll do the same with Dylan. When it comes time to discipline them, we'll probably do it in a family meeting."
I thought about that for a moment. "Steven probably won't want to be here for that."
Dad nodded. "Probably not. We'll make sure he knows about it in plenty of time so he can leave the room. Or maybe we'll use the basement family room."
We talked for a little while longer about other things, like work, school, plans for the next week or so. Then Steven came home with a smiling Damian on his arm. They had already eaten, so they sat and chatted for a few minutes before running upstairs to take a shower. From the way Steven's hands kept straying to his lover's ass, I knew that two of them were eager to have sex.
A couple of minutes later, Dylan and Cory came into the living room and knelt in front of us. Cory spoke first, looking up at Dad. "We're finished with the cleanup, Master."
Dylan was looking at me with anticipation. A quick glance at Dad showed me that Cory was looking at him with the same intensity. Dad saw me staring in his direction. He sighed deeply and said, "Back in the apartment, this is the time when Cory would come into the living area and give me a blowjob. But I think we'll take this to our room until you and Dylan are no longer minors.
With that, Dad got up and took Cory to the bedroom with him. I wasn't sure how I felt about the idea of Dad and I being in the same room while our slave boys sucked our dicks. I'd been in the same room with Steven when we were both fucking our lovers, and Greg and I had both fucked Dylan at the same time, but it seemed different with Dad since he was... well, my dad. I filed this topic away as another thing that I would definitely have to sit down and discuss with him.
When I looked down at Dylan he had tears in his eyes and his lip was trembling. I had to make a fast decision. What did he need? Did he need his firm and authoritarian master? Or did he need his boyfriend? I didn't know, and I couldn't think of any way to tell, so I decided to go with what I needed instead. And I needed to be his boyfriend.
"Come up here, Dylan. I need to speak with you."
Dylan stood up and I pulled him onto my lap so that he was straddling my legs. As soon as he was seated, he pressed his face to my chest and started sobbing. "I'm sorry, Master. Sorry, sorry, sorry."
I let him cry for a little while and held him. When he calmed down, I asked, "What are you sorry about?"
"I've been throwing out half my smoothie every meal, Master. I know you told me to follow the diet plan, but I couldn't. I just... the idea of eating made me want to throw up."
I ran my hands down his back and then along his thighs. It was probably my imagination, but he seemed thinner. "Why, Dylan? Can you tell me what you were thinking? I'm not mad. I just want to understand."
I held him tighter, and he hugged me like he was afraid to let go. He started crying again, but I could just make out his words. "I'm ugly now, Master, and I don't want to be ugly and fat."
"Listen to me, Dylan. You are not ugly. You're a very cute, sweet, and enticing guy. Everyone knows it."
"No, they don't, Master. Everyone knows that I'm stupid and weird. And now I'm ugly and... I know that I'm not really fat, but sometimes I don't believe it."
I was out of my depth. There was no way I could get Dylan into therapy without his father's permission (at least no way I knew of at that moment), and that bastard wouldn't do anything. He'd be too concerned about how Dylan's problems reflected on him. It had been the same thing with his dyslexia. All I could do is try and reassure him.
"Okay, Dylan, I'm going to grant you weird, but your weirdness is one of the things I love about you. Stupid? Not a chance. You learn really well when it's something you're interested in. You've become a great cook and your grade point average is up to a C. And you taught yourself to give amazing foot massages without even having someone to practice on."
I just held him for a while. He didn't say anything, so I asked, "What makes you think you're ugly now?"
He sniffled and replied, "You haven't fucked me in days, Master... And I know that the doctor said not to, but when I lie around with nothing to do but think, I start having dark thoughts and..."
He started crying again. "...Ha... have... have you seen my back, Master?"
I took hold of his tee shirt and pulled it up. He didn't say anything or try to stop me, but he cried harder. He was small enough that I could look over his shoulders easily. I'd thought his thighs were bad, but nothing had prepared me to see the mass of pink lines on his back. A flood of anger washed over my body. If Craig Morgan had been in the room, I would have knocked him on his ass and beaten his face until it looked worse than Dylan's back. But I couldn't give in to anger. I had to be calm for Dylan's sake.
I lifted his chin and kissed him very gently. "I don't think you're ugly. If you're embarrassed by your back, then I'll let you wear a tee shirt, or those sexy slave tunics we haven't used since Dad came back home. And you know that you're not done healing. Your skin may heal perfectly well on its own, and we'll talk to the doctor to see what else we can do. But I need you to believe that even if these wounds are still visible, it won't change the way I feel about you. At all."
"Thank you, Master," he mumbled into my chest.
I wrapped him in my arms and carried him up the stairs. He clung to my neck the entire way, and I had to balance him with one hand under his butt while I used the other to spread out a towel. I disentangled him from my body and put him down on the bed. I asked, "Did you need to go get cleaned up?"
He shook his head. "I did it when you texted that you were on your way."
I took hold of his shorts and pulled them off, exposing his stiff little erection. When it popped into view, I had an urge to kiss it or lick it, but Dylan had always been resistant to me doing anything with his penis. I pulled him to a seated position and removed his tee shirt. Then I sat down on the bed next to him, kissed him gently on the lips again and said, "Turn over, Slave Boy."
Dylan gave me an enthusiastic "Yes, Master" and then turned over. I lay down next to him and lifted his collar length hair out of the way so I could kiss the back of his neck. Then I kissed my way down his spine. to the top of his round butt, the only part of him that wasn't thin. Before I went for his hole, I traced the pink skin on his back with my lips, gently kissing every inch of each stripe. He was making the little whimpering noises he usually made when I was eating his ass.
I hoped that I was demonstrating to my boyfriend how much I cared for him. Steven had told me over and over again that I was obviously in love with Dylan, but I hadn't realized how totally head over heels I was until he'd been abused by his father. No one was ever going to lay a hand on Dylan again, not in anger, ever, and not in a sexual way, without my permission. Dylan had enjoyed it when I let Greg fuck him. We'd be doing that again, but not right away.
I moved down to his sweet bubble butt and separated his cheeks. His hairless pink hole was winking at me, like it always did when he was excited. I leaned in and gave it a precautionary whiff before kissing his rosebud. Then I teased him with my tongue, running it around the edge of the ring and then thrusting past his sphincter muscle. It twitched and clamped down on my tongue. Dylan started moaning louder. "Sorry, Master. I'm so sorry!"
"What are you sorry about, Dylan?"
He cried, "I'm cumming. I didn't mean to, but I'm cumming."
He'd really missed my attention over the last few days. He was cumming just from the feeling of my tongue in his ass. I actually laughed at his reaction. "Don't be sorry, Dylan. Just let it happen. You always have my permission to cum whenever you have any part of my body inside you."
"Thank you, Master. You're too good to me, Master."
I climbed back up to kiss him. "You deserve this and more, Dylan. Tonight is about me making you feel good."
Dylan was panting from the feeling of my fingers rubbing his hole. "I'm supposed to be making you feel good, Master."
I whispered in his ear, "Did it ever occur to you, Slave Boy, that it makes your master feel good when he can make you cum? That it makes your master hard to hear you moan and to hear you cry out in pleasure? It makes me feel powerful and masculine when I reduce you to a quivering ball of ecstacy."
He smiled; he actually gave me a smile at that. Maybe I was breaking through his dark mood, even if it was just a crack. Then he even made a joke. "Thank you, Master. I'll happily be pleasured so long as it makes you happy."
"You bet it does," I said, slapping his butt. Immediately, I felt guilty after what he'd been through. I asked, "Sorry. Are you okay?"
Dylan twisted his upper torso around to look at me. "Please, Master! Don't treat me like I'm too fragile to be your slave. It's your right to spank me when I do something wrong or whenever it pleases you... and I... I like it too, but you shouldn't be worried about what I like. You should just take what you want as your right."
He was correct. That was the relationship we'd agreed to, even if we hadn't talked about all the specifics. Everything in his expression and his tone of voice said that he needed me to be his Master even more than he needed me as his boyfriend. When I hesitated, Dylan said, "I trust you, Master. I know that you will never cause me any real harm."
I stiffened my resolve and set aside the tenderness I'd been expressing so I could give him what he needed. I smacked his pale ass even harder. "That's right, Slave Boy. You'll take what I give you because you have no choice."
I moved back down and buried my face in his ass. I thrust my tongue inside him and tasted his sweet muskiness. I made out with his hole until it became loose and sloppy. Then I thrust two fingers inside him to tease his p-spot. And I was rewarded with his hole spasming around my fingers. Dylan was cumming again.
"I love it when you cum from my mouth or my fingers in your hole. You really are a slutty little slave boy, aren't you?"
"Yes, Master! I'm your slutty slave boy!"
I turned him over and placed our fuck pillow under his hips. He had cum all over his belly and his little penis was coated. "Are you going to cum for me again, Slave Boy? Are you going to cum from my giant mutant monster dick?"
He smiled for real and said, "I love your giant magical magnificent dick, Master, and I'll cum if I need to. That's the way it should be. You're the master and I'm the slave."
I started lubing his ass. He looked at me and said, "You can try it without lube, Master. I feel wet and relaxed."
I smacked his thigh. "NO, Dylan. My cock is ten inches long and really fucking thick. I will never hurt you that way, so stop asking!" I knew that I was too big, and he was too small, for him to take my dick without lube.
Dylan mumbled, "Sorry, Master."
I kissed him as I worked three fingers in his ass. "Don't be sorry. Just understand that it's my job to know what's best for you and I will never do anything I think has a possibility of hurting you."
Then I lubed my cock well and pushed it inside him slowly. I loved the look on his face as he took my cock to the root. His eyelids fluttered, his eyes rolled up and his mouth opened while he breathed hard. And his ass was so tight that it felt like he was squeezing my cock in a fist. When I reached his second sphincter, I thrust forward slowly with gentle, but unrelenting, pressure, until he opened and let me inside. And that was the third time his penis began oozing cum.
There was no way that I was going to last long with his tightness and his two sphincters clenching and relaxing against me. I pulled almost all the way out and then thrust inside again. Now that Dylan had gathered his wits, he started working his ass, relaxing while I thrust inside and clenching tight while I pulled out. I felt the pressure rising in my cock and then I thrust all the way inside and held it there. At that moment, Dylan's holes started spasming again and I shot my load deep inside his colon.
"Wow, Master! I came four times while you were inside me!" Dylan panted.
I kissed him, thrusting my tongue inside and claiming his mouth the way my cock had claimed his ass. We made out while my dick slowly deflated, and we continued kissing while Dylan's ass teased my cock back to life so I could fuck him again. We made up for the four days we'd missed, well almost. I fucked him three times that night. He didn't cum every time, but he did cum one last time when I finished round three.
Then we lay together, spooned in our bed. I kissed his back again and said, "Don't ever think that you're not worthy of me. In my mind, you are perfect."
Dylan pressed back against me. "I love you, Master."
I wrapped my arms around him, holding him tight. "And I love you, Dylan, my own perfect little slave boy."
Characters
● Bethany Morgan. The mother of the Morgan kids and the wife of the pastor. She's a passive-aggressive woman and a homophobe. She's 44 at the start of the story.
● Brian Wilder. Damian's 23-year-old straight brother. He's a mechanic in the Groth Automotive Service Department. He accepts his younger brother's gayness and knows about Roger and Cory.
● Cory Lundgren. Bethany's youngest brother. He's short, blond, and blue-eyed, like Dylan. He stands 5 foot 7 inches tall and weighs 150 pounds. He's fourteen years younger than his sister. He was thrown out of the house for being gay when he was 18. He's 30 years old at the beginning of the story. Corwin Alan Lundgren. He works as Mr. Groth's assistant, but he's secretly his slave.
● Craig Morgan. The pastor. He stands 6 foot tall and weighs 160 pounds. He's thin and mean, with a sour expression. Although secretly gay, he married Bethany Lundgren to cover it up. He and his younger brother Kenneth Morgan (Kieran's father) never got along. He took Kieran in when his parents died. He's 45 at the start of the story.
● Damian Wilder. High school senior who is 17 at the beginning of the story. He's 6 foot tall, handsome, with a dark tan, green eyes with tiny flecks of gold, a snub nose, and a broad mouth. He's Steven's occasional lover who would like to be more. He's on the swim and diving teams.
● Donald Morgan. The oldest Morgan son. He's 5 foot 11 inches tall and weighs 180 pounds. He's heavy-set but strong. He has dark red hair and a lot of freckles. But they look good on him. He's mean-spirited and domineering, and he made his brother Dylan's life hard.
● Dylan Morgan. The middle son in the Growth household. At 17, he was 5 foot 5 inches tall and weighed 120 pounds. He has blond hair and blue eyes. He's submissive and has dreamed of being his best friend's slave since middle school.
● Elizabeth Jepps. She's the only Morgan daughter. She's much like her mother. She's seven years older than Dylan. She got married at 18 to get out of the house. They rarely see her except at church. She's married to Jerry Jepps, six years her senior and the manager at the Farm and Feed store.
● Edgar Williams. The sound and video technician at Pastor Morgan's church. He's 35 years old with brown hair. He is of average build.
● Fred Nelson. A twenty-eight-year-old salesman at Groth automotive who seems very interested in Dylan (and Aaron).
● Greg Miller. A blond athlete, a senior in high school. He's one of Kurt's closest friends. He plays on the football team with Kurt. He's tall, thick bodied with muscles, and strong. Dylan has always felt that Greg didn't like him and was trying to undermine his friendship with Kurt. He has a brother three years younger than him named Jonah.
● Jamie Beck. 25 year old manager of an apartment complex. His dad owns the place but leaves Jamie to run it onsite as he owns multiple other rental properties. Jamie is a gay submissive who has surrendered himself to Donny Morgan. He's totally in love with him. He's a handsome, fit guy. Average height and weight, but well-toned from working out a lot. He has brown hair and brown eyes.
● Josephine "Josie" Kurtz. A doctor who's in a relationship with Phyllis MacDonald.
● Kurt Groth. He's the youngest Groth boy, only a few months younger than Dylan. His mother was black, so his skin is much darker than his father's. He stands 6 feet tall and weighs 175 pounds. He is muscular but less bulky than his father. He has medium brown skin and black hair with tight curls. He wears it medium length on top with a low fade. He is bisexual, but he's in love with his best friend Dylan. He wants to dominate him totally and own him as a slave.
● Michael Wilder. 26-year-old brother of Damian. He is a teacher at the same high school Damian, Kurt and Dylan attend. He's straight and married, and he accepts his brother's gayness.
● Patrick O'Rourke. A 14-year-old sophomore who turns 15 before the end of September. He's gay and has a mysterious boyfriend who lives out of town. Tommy Morgan decides to turn him into his bitch, but Patty is more than willing to play.
● Phyllis MacDonald. A lawyer and friend of Roger Groth. She handles a lot of civil rights cases, including LGBTQIA+ cases. She's in a relationship with Josie Kurtz.
● Roger Groth. Owner of Groth Automobiles, Groth Farm Equipment, and several properties around town. He's forty years old and has two sons, Steven, and Kurt. He stands 6 foot tall and weighs 200 pounds of solid muscle. He has light brown hair and fair skin. His wife died 15 years ago, and he's been Cory's master for the last 12.
● Steven Groth. The oldest of the two Groth boys. He stands 6 foot 4 inches tall and weighs 190 pounds. He has light brown skin and wavy black hair that he wears very short. He was a swimmer in high school and keeps his body shaved even after graduation. He has light amber eyes. He was in love with Kieran Morgan all through high school and he regrets not pressing Kieran to come out of the closet when they were in school together. He's a year older than Dylan and Kurt.
● Thomas Morgan. The youngest Morgan son. He's two years younger than Dylan but he's about the same size. He has bright red hair, pale skin and a lot of freckles. He joins in with his oldest brother teasing and tormenting Kieran and Dylan.