TAKING WALLY TO GAYTOWN, psrt 3 By Master Redbeard (redbeardedsf @ yahoo.com)
(This story is inspired by Waddie Greywolf, who was himself inspired by Richard Davis. Greywolf allowed me to read an advance chapter of a story that is as-yet unpublished. His story is about a fundamentalist Christian father in Texas who enslaves his sons. My story about a father and his sons is very different from Waddie's, but it is based in the same universe and was inspired by reading Waddie's story.)
(This is a fantasy story set in a world in which slavery exists. This story includes gay sex, some of which happens between an adult man of 18 and older men. If any of this is offensive to you or if it's illegal to read such a story in your jurisdiction, go away now. If you have trouble differentiating between reality and fantasy, do not read this story - go get help now.)
A half hour passed. When Ryan and Nigel came by next the older man refused to go higher than $100,000 for Wally. Ryan acted like a petulant child. While Nigel held firm about the price, saying he had a strict policy never to go above $100,000 for any slave, he was clearly trying to humor his younger compatriot. "We have that party tonight, dear boy. You know it's always a fun time. And tomorrow I'll take you away to the lake and we can talk about visiting that new place they're opening in the South Pacific." Then the two of them disappeared into the crowd.
I had just resolved that the next time I saw the big man from the resort chain, I would accept his $100,000 offer. But when I turned around there was the Major. I smiled at him with a sense of relief. I'd been thinking of everything he said about his relationship with his church and with the Lord. I believed that a slave could enter heaven by cleaving to his master. And I believed strongly that the Major was the master who could get my boy into heaven.
The Major looked at the bid and crossed his arms over his chest. Then he smiled at me and said, "I'll raise the bid to $120,000 on two conditions, sir." He could see the eagerness in my face and he continued, "First, I would like that bag of the boy's clothes you mentioned you have in your car. And then I insist that you be my guest at my birthday celebration tonight."
When I finally got my mouth to work all I could say was "$120,000?" This was more money than was currently in my retirement account, and I blurted that out to the Major without thinking. This was an amount of money that could change my life. But, I reminded myself, the important thing was that Wally would have a good Christian owner. Then I paused and asked, "Your birthday party, Major?"
"There were just going to be eight of us at the gathering. You would make nine. Well, not counting the slave boy of course."
"B-but," I stammered dumbly. "Your friends? Would they be... um, homos? W-would there be anything happening at this party that would be..." I couldn't finish the thought.
The Major was solicitous when he said, "Yes, my friend, the other men are all avowed homosexuals. But as for anything happening at the party - well I suppose you're asking if there would be anything happening at this party that you, as a good Christian man, would not want to witness?" He took a deep breath and continued, "I can assure you that if anything of a sexual nature happened, it would involve the slave boy. And, as we have already established, our churches agree that sex with a male slave does not constitute the sin of homosexuality. I have great respect for your piety, sir. But I'm sure you have been at parties at which good Christian men have made use of slave boys for their release? Am I telling the truth?"
I could feel my face flushing as I remembered the retirement party at work for old Mr. Grint. There was a Latino slave boy serving dinner, perhaps just a few years older than Wally. I was one of many men who ended up using the boy's expert mouth while Grint himself rode the slave boy's butt. I was amazed that the old fellow could go at it so long and hard. Though the slave boy, as I remember, had seemed quite bored with the whole thing.
The Major could tell from my face that I had indeed experienced oral pleasure from a slave boy at a party. He slapped me on the back and said, "My guests were looking forward to meeting a new slave boy tonight. Having the boy's father there to help us celebrate the lad's first day in service will make it an evening to remember."
Just then the powerfully built man from the resort came by and saw me with the Major. Clearly the two men knew each other. When the resort representative found out the price being paid for Wally, he shook the Major's hand and said, "Enjoy the boy. Knowing you Major, I have faith that you will."
There was a look of desperation in Wally's eyes as the Major gave instructions to have the boy delivered to his home. But I smiled at my son and said, "This isn't goodbye quite yet, Wally. I'll be seeing you tonight. It will be a combination birthday party and launch to your life as a slave." The Major laughed along with me.
The slave hall was very professional at handling all the paperwork. Of course they took 5-percent off the top of the sale, so I lost the first $6,000 from the $120,000. The Major gave me directions to his home and invited me to head back there with him if I wanted to get freshened up. It had been a hectic day and I welcomed that chance.
The Major's home was the grandest I've seen. Nobody in our town has the sort of money to live like the Major. I'm not sure there's anyone in our county seat who could live like the Major. He directed me to a small bedroom next to his and told me to feel free to shower or nap. But before I could get into the shower, he had brought in a full bottle of his 20-year-old whiskey. He and I toasted to his birthday and then he left the bottle "just in case you'd like to wet your whistle a bit more."
By the time I headed downstairs to greet the Major's guests, my whistle had been wet quite a bit. Among the Major's guests there was one big fat screaming queen (well even the Major and his other guests described Warren as a big fat screaming queen). In an odd way, Warren made me think of a gay version of McGee - except Warren's clothes were much smarter and better tailored and instead of combing his hair over his bald spot he had a very expensive hairpiece.
But most of the other guests seemed like decent fellows. As I watched them I started to consider that most of them could easily hide their swishy mannerisms during the work week, but as they relaxed among friends and continued to drink they became increasingly swishy and open in their gay ways. Strangely enough, I found myself relaxing and laughing along with the other fellows there.
The last two guests we'd been waiting for finally arrived and I was stunned to see that it was Ryan and Nigel. Ryan was my son's former swimming coach who had made a bid to buy Wally. While Nigel was even older than our 60-year-old birthday boy, Ryan was the only man there younger than me. He greeted me with astonishment, saying, "Well for a straight man you certainly show up at the gayest places?"
The Major intervened and said, "This gentleman is here as my special guest because of a business deal I closed with him this afternoon." He then led all of his guests into a grand dining room. There, in the middle of a big round table, was Wally, still wearing just the pair of white briefs. He was standing up. His arms were behind him and tied to a stake and his feet were together and tied to the same stake. He was on a small platform that was revolving very slowly in the center of the table.
I froze at the door at the sight in front of me. Yes, I had been to events at which there had been a slave boy used for sex. But, never one where the boy had been trussed up and displayed as the centerpiece of the dinner table. And through the fog of the alcohol it dawned on me as well that this slave boy being offered up tonight was the son I had raised for the previous 18 years.
The men all approached the table and commented about how beautiful Wally was. One called out, "How old is this kid, Major?" There was laughter in the room as another said, "Yeh, I don't want us to be raided by those age-of-consent do-gooders."
The Major joined in the merriment and said, "Don't worry, gentlemen. I have documentation that the boy turned 18 today. Besides you can ask his father."
All the men turned to me. I heard murmurs of, "The boy's father?" "Is he for real?" "That's so fucking hot." The Major then introduced me around and told everyone, "Just call him Dad. For tonight he's just Dad."
Dinner was served by two young slave boys - one was redheaded with freckles and the other had golden skin and looked perhaps Hawaiian. Each boy wore something that looked like a jockstrap that just supported the tackle and had a rope going up the crack of the ass to a waistband. Neither boy was taller than my son and both looked quite young.
The Major leaned toward me and said, "I assure any slave boy used for sex here in Capitol City is at least 18. I do like the young smooth look, but a man in my position must be careful to follow the law in each jurisdiction."
Warren bellowed from the other side of the table, "But in your Florida estate..." The person next to him jabbed Warren in the side but the fat man huffed, "All I'm saying is that they've changed the law in Florida so they've lowered the age of..." That's when someone jabbed a breadstick in Warren's mouth and everyone laughed.
As the dinner progressed, guests were reaching up and fondling Wally's nearly nude body. This was usually accompanied by some comment, sometimes a nice compliment and sometimes a vulgar remark. Soon Wally's underpants were tangled in his thighs, then around his knees, and then fallen around his feet. At one point Ryan seemed to be looking straight at me as he said, "Now that's what I call a fuckable ass." When the men's handling had caused Wally's penis to go fully stiff, one man whistled and looked at me saying, "Impressive meat. Does he take after his father?"
The fact that I took all this in relatively good cheer had a lot to do with the amount of fine whiskey I had consumed by that time of the evening. I had started drinking with the Major well before his party began. I felt mellow and ready to curl up for a nap, but the rest of the guests were energized and looking forward to fun.
When I looked up I realized that the rotating platform in the middle of the table had stopped. Now Wally, bound as he was, stood still, while Warren enthusiastically stroked the boy's erect penis. Another guest stood next to Warren, holding a bowl right under my boy's cock head. Ryan, on the other side of the table, called out, "I know how to increase the volume of the kid's load." Then he wet his finger in his mouth and shoved it unceremoniously into the boy's backside. Wally howled and tensed up and then I saw a spurt of semen shoot from the head of his penis. The man with the bowl maneuvered it expertly to catch my son's semen. Spurt after spurt landed in the bowl.
The serving slaves brought our desserts around the table. Warren followed the slaves around the table and put a dollop of Wally's cum on top of each serving of the flaming cherry dish. I put my hands over my bowl, nearly burning my fingers, and shook my head in the negative. Warren smiled slyly and said, "You don't know what you're missing dad. And it's fresh from your own teenage son."
The Major waved his hand at his friend and said, "Leave him be. It just means more for the rest of us." Indeed, Warren put three heaping spoonfuls of the sperm on our host's flaming cherries and then the fat man licked out the bowl and grinned at the assembled crowd.
When we retired into the parlor with brandy, the Major motioned for his two serving lads to untie Wally and bring the boy in for our entertainment. He added, "And be sure to bring that bag full of clothes as well."
Wally was brought into the room and stood at slave rest position, with his hands clasped behind his back, his head bowed, and his feet 18 inches apart. The men continued to speak, mostly directing questions to me about my son. I told them he had won some medals at the state swimming competition and they nodded to each other saying things like, "No wonder he has those firm muscles." This was Ryan's opportunity to remind the gathered men that he had once been the boy's swimming coach. I also told them about Wally delivering a speech at his graduation just the previous week.
When the subject of Wally's younger brother came up, I expressed concern that Will was away and did not yet know his brother had been enslaved. The men asked to see a picture of Will and I passed around a picture from my wallet that showed both boys on a rafting trip we had taken over spring break - I thought the boys looked comical in their tank tops and shorts that were plastered to their soaking wet bodies. One man remarked, "Given that the 18-year-old looks about fourteen, I'm curious what the 14-year-old is gonna look like." When the picture made its way to Ryan, his eyes seemed to glaze over and he said, "Holy cow, the younger kid looks just like Wally did at that age." He handed the picture to the Major, who smiled softly and looked at it for quite a long time. "It would be lovely to have two brothers so nicely matched."
I took the picture back from the Major and said, "Well, that's surely never going to happen. Will is all I have left now. Besides, Major, he's four years younger than Wally so it's not legal to use the lad for sex even if he was enslaved."
"Yes, yes," the Major nodded. "And as I said a man in my position has to be careful to uphold the law of each jurisdiction. But, just having a boy like that around, so young and fresh and cute, just to look at - well, let's just say a boy like that, especially as young as he is, has charms that can reinvigorate an old man like me."
Warren piped up, "Besides, on the Florida estate it's legal to..." Someone else nudged him and said, "Warren, put on some music." Warren turned to a wall of digital equipment and soon soft music was piped through the room.
The Major stood up slowly and put an arm around my newly enslaved son Wally. He grinned at his party guests and said, "Let's turn our attention to my extra special birthday present, the birthday present I bought for myself." Everyone laughed. "Now, Wally's dad has told all of us that he enslaved the boy because the lad was queer. But Wally tells me he's a straight boy. Answer me, slave boy, are you gay?"
"Sir, no sir," my naked son said quietly.
The big man was caressing the boy's face and neck and shoulders as he continued, "Tell me, Wally, have you ever jerked off thinking about guys' dicks or asses?"
"Sir, no sir," my son intoned once more, still looking at the floor.
The Major's big hands were moving everywhere on the slim blond teen. "Wally, have you ever jerked off thinking about taking a man's thick stiff prick in your mouth and sucking it? Have you ever gotten a boner thinking about licking a man's dick juice out of his cock head, boy?"
"Sir, no sir," Wally gasped. I looked at my boy and saw that he was trembling now. I also saw that his penis was shriveled up quite small. How odd that Wally was as far from an erection as could be, but my penis was fully stiff in my pants and beginning to leak. I'm certain my arousal had something about the sensuality of the Major's voice.
The Major grabbed Wally's face in his hands and looked right into the boy's eyes as he asked, "Have you ever kissed a boy or a man? Have you ever felt all warm and aroused imagining how it would feel to kiss a boy or a man?"
Wally's voice cracked as he called out, "Sir, no sir." Then the man pulled the boy's face to his and kissed him hard on the lips. Even from across the room I could see that the Major's mouth was open and that his tongue was playing with Wally's lips and mouth. I wondered what the Major's beard felt like against my son's smooth face.
He pulled Wally's face from his and enunciated slowly, "Back when you were a free boy, Wally, did you ever get hard thinking about a man's thick hairy cock being pushed into your ass and fucking you?"
Wally fell in a heap on the floor weeping and calling out, "Sir, no sir. Please, sir, don't do that to me, sir. I'm not a queer boy, sir."
I was scared the Major would respond by punishing his new slave, but instead he caressed Wally's face and eased the boy up to his knees. He even pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and used it to wipe Wally's face. Wally was looking up at his master now. But when I glanced over I could see a huge tent in the front of the big man's trousers. He was still caressing the boy's face as he whispered, "But you're a slave boy, now, right?"
"Y-yes, master," the boy whispered back intimately.
"Your master bought you for sex, Wally, because you're such a beautiful boy. And now that you're a slave you're here to serve your master and do as you're told. Right, slave boy?"
Wally swallowed hard and said, "Y-yes, master."
The man tenderly guided the boy's face to look toward the front of his pants. Wally's eyes went wide and there was a choked sob in the back of his throat. In a quiet, flat tone the Major said, "Take it out my pretty little slave boy."
Wally's hands were trembling as he unzipped his master's pants. He reached in and fumbled with the man's penis. I wanted to look away. I have no interest seeing another man's erect penis. But there was something hypnotic about the scene. I couldn't turn away. I gasped a little when I saw the girth of the Major's semi-erect organ. Wally drew back a little bit. But the Major's tender hand caressed his young face and drew the boy nearer to his stiffening cock.
"Your tongue, slave boy."
Tears were streaming down Wally's face as his tongue came from between his lips and touched the tip of the Major's erect cock. I watched as my son's new master pressed his cock head down into the boy's tongue, spreading his precum onto the teenage tastebuds.
"Open your lips, slave boy." The man did not jab his penis roughly into the boy's throat. Instead he just toyed with the head of his penis on the tip of my son's tongue. He cooed, "I know you're a straight boy, Wally. I know you still think like a free boy. But those are all the reasons my big hairy cock is so stiff."
The room was thick with erotic tension. When I took my eyes away from the master and slave, I became aware that all the other men in the room were displaying erections in their pants. Some were rubbing and some were trying to be discreet, but every man was affected by what they had just seen and heard. The only penis in the room that was not erect was Wally's. This seemed odd to me. Wasn't I giving my queer son what he wanted? The Major had spoken to me earlier when we had been drinking together and he said that the fantasy of being a straight boy was probably very erotic for Wally. He said that a lot of young gays had that fantasy and that I should play along with it. So why didn't Wally have a boner?
The Major broke the trance of the moment and had Wally stand up. Warren had chosen some clothes from the duffel bag I had brought and he now placed the clothes on a table beside the naked slave boy. Wally looked up at his master, not understanding what was expected of him. The Major grinned and said, "We're going to play a little game, boy. You know you're a slave and I know you're a slave and everyone in this room knows you're a slave. We all know you have to do as you're commanded. But we're going to play a little game and pretend that you're here tonight as a free boy, Wally."
There were chuckles throughout the room as Wally slowly began to get dressed. He pulled up a pair of the white briefs he had worn each day of his free boy life. Then he put on a white undershirt, a pair of chinos, and a striped dress shirt that Warren had selected from the duffel bag. Finally he pulled on a pair of socks and stepped into his penny loafers.
The Major went around behind Wally and used a tiny key to remove the boy's slave collar. Wally touched his neck. The Major whispered to the boy loud enough for all of us to hear, "You have your slave chip behind your ear, boy. You have your slave number tattooed on your chest. You're a slave through and through. But just 27 hours ago you were a free boy who never imagined that you'd have to take some old man's stiff penis into your mouth.
"Let's pretend your dad brought you here for a party. Let's pretend it's two nights ago, back when you were free, back before your father even had any notion of enslaving you. So here you are as a guest, Wally. Welcome to my party."
The men were all sitting on three sofas that were set in a U-pattern. I was sitting in a big comfy chair that was set back a little from the sofas. Wally looked around at the group like a deer in the headlights, not knowing how he was expected to act, not knowing what response might get him punished as a slave.
A tall good-looking fellow named Brian patted the sofa beside him, smiled up at my son and invited him to sit. This man had been an actor on a TV western back when he was younger and had still kept a lot of his rugged looks even though he was in his 60s. Wally moved slowly and sat between Brian and a quiet smaller man named Mel, who was a banker. Brian took the lead and started asking Wally about the swim team at school. As the Major had wanted, it was a casual conversation that any older man would have with a free boy at a party. Wally began to open up and answer the man's questions.
Then Brian started squeezing one of Wally's legs. He grinned at the boy and said, "I'll bet all that swimming has given you really nice thighs, son."
Wally froze for an instant and then turned to the Major. He asked, "Please, sir, how should I act? D-do you want me to go along with what he wants or c-could I tell him to stop touching my leg, sir?"
The Major seemed to be considering the question and then mulled over, "Well, if you cooperate fully with men wanting to sex you up, boy, that wouldn't make you a very believable free straight boy." Then the man turned to me and said, "Dad, was Wally a good obedient son?"
"Always."
I was handed another drink by the Major and I downed it as he said, "In that case, dad, since you and your 'free' son are guests here, you just keep telling your boy to be cooperative and to let the men do what they want." I couldn't help but chuckle. There was something absurd about playing out this scene. But, after all, it was the man's birthday and he had paid a huge amount to buy my son as his new slave.
Brian, the retired actor, took up the scene and started squeezing my son's thigh once more. "Call me Brian, young fellow." The banker on the other side of Wally touched the boy's other leg and said, "Call me Mel." Then Brian smiled at Wally and said, "Show us your thighs, kid. Just slip your pants down so we can see what kind of muscles your swimming has given you."
Wally, a little nervously, pulled away from Brian and pushed the other man's hand away as he said, "Please don't touch me there. I'm not gonna take down my pants here in front of all these men."
The Major turned and pointed to me as if telling me this was my cue. I cleared my throat and said, "Son, you're a guest here. Take down your pants for the nice men."
All eyes were on Wally's lap as he fumbled with his zipper and then peeled his pants down just as far as his knees. The two men started feeling the boy's bare thighs, squeezing his flesh and moving their hands up and down, making comments about the smoothness of his skin or the firmness of his muscles. The tail of the boy's dress shirt was hiding most of his white briefs. The Major called out, "It's getting warm here, don't you think, Wally? Take off that dress shirt of yours, son."
"D-do I have to?" the boy asked, looking at me.
I almost started laughing as I said, "Our host has been so gracious, boy. Take off your shirt when he asks you to."
Mel decided to help Wally unbutton the shirt and then he pulled it off the boy's arms. I adlibbed, "Son, don't you think you should thank the nice man for his help taking off your shirt?"
There were some soft chuckles in the room but Wally quietly said, "Thank you, Mel." The boy was just covered by his white briefs and his white t-shirt, with his chinos slipped below his knees.
That's when Nigel, distinguished as he was, got down on the floor in front of Wally and started pulling off each of the boy's penny loafers. He could barely contain his glee as he said, "I'm always interested in the feet of lads who swim a good deal. I'm curious whether your skin has gotten all shriveled and pruney on your feet."
Some joker called out, "You're the expert on pruney and shriveled skin here, Nigel," but the white-haired man ignored the comment as he brought my son's bare foot to his lips. He was moaning as he sucked on Wally's big toe.
The other men were off the sofas and moving closer to my son. Some of them were rubbing the bulges in their pants, while others had pulled their cocks out of their flies and were rubbing them right out in front of the group.
Warren leaned over the back of the sofa and reached his hands down the front of Wally's chest. He was rubbing Wally's nipples through the fabric of the boy's t-shirt. He started to chatter away, "Y'know I've been playing with my nipples since I've been jerking off. So of course my nipples are big tough things now that stick out stiff even when I'm not aroused. But feel how flat the straight boy's tits are." Then he reached down and pulled up Wally's t-shirt so he could tweak the boy's nipples right on the pink flesh. "Let's see what it takes to get these standing up erect." I realized that with the t-shirt pulled up as it was, Wally's slave identification number was hidden.
Meanwhile Brian's fingers were just inside the leg band of Wally's white briefs. He announced to the crowd, "Our little swimming champ here doesn't have a hair on his balls!" Everyone chuckled along. I shook my head to try to gather my thoughts. I had been there just hours earlier when Wally's balls were shaved for the slave hall. But then I remembered this was all part of the game.
"Please don't," Wally grunted, squirming his body. Then he howled in pain and grabbed the wrist of Mel, the short banker that was sitting on his other side. "Please, sir, that hurt."
"Oh, right," Mel said slyly, "free boys aren't used to getting a finger in their cracks."
The Major was still on the sidelines as he called out, "No, no, boy. You don't have to call him 'sir.' You're a free boy. At least in this scene now you're a free boy. Let's say you were brought here as a guest by your daddy. You didn't know you'd be surrounded by a bunch of horny pervs. You didn't know we'd get your daddy drunk." Everyone laughed and I laughed along.
"Now Wally, how would you react? As a free boy, as a straight teenager, how would you react right now?"
Wally shouted, "Get your fucking queer hands off me!" Then he pushed at the men and tried to get up from the couch. But with his pants tangled around his calves and with the small white-haired man at his feet, Wally stumbled. Hands were all over him and lifted him up off the ground.
In an instant Wally was bent over the side of a table. Someone pulled down the back of my son's briefs, but left them tangled around his thighs. For such a large man, Warren proved to be nimble as he fell to his knees behind the boy and brought his lips to the teenager's crack. The big man pulled Wally's cheeks apart and was making grunting and snorting noises as he ate out my son's hole. On one level I knew I should be repulsed by such a sight, I knew this should be turning my stomach. And yet I couldn't take my eyes away from the scene before me.
Finally the Major moved from his vantage point on the sidelines and joined in. He pulled open the pants of his white suit. He wasn't wearing anything under the pants and now his cock and balls were completely revealed. It was impressive equipment nested in a thick bush of black and white hairs. He was holding his rod as he grinned down at Wally's body being held in place.
(end of part 3 - to be continued)