Can you believe the tension between Rhett and the members of The Masters Club? , Rhettt seems to "naturally" accept doing whatever is asked of him to earn their praise of being a "Good Boy." (I hope you donate to Nifty to help support it.) More of my stories are posted on GayTies.com.
The Masters Club
Chapter 6 of 8
"I... Please... ah... several of you men... would you kindly..." He cried out aloud, blubbered like a little boy. "Please, would all of you kindly lube my shitty slave asshole, please?"
"Good Boy, now you are getting it."
Those two powerful magic words! "AAAAHHHHHH!" Rhett moaned as his dick twitched.
"But listen, if only one of these 11 very kind Masters refuses to butter you up, you are out of here. We are no more Mr. Nice Guys. All bets are off. We will pick you up and toss you onto the street and out of our lives. Got that?" Burton was that stern.
Several men came up to Rhett at a time, but not everyone. "Please, everyone, I'm holding my ass open for you to help lube me up. Oh, kind Sirs sitting around, please. I don't want to displease any of you. Please use the butter to grease up my asshole any way you like." More men came to the boy. However, the men lifted Rhett and flipped him belly up to allow more men to surround him.
Now, he was on his back. Someone said, "You remember this position, right boy?" He didn't know who said it. Maybe it was Jenson or Tim, the bartender. It did not matter.
"Yes, Sir."
"And remember how to place your legs?" Immediately, Rhett raised his legs high in the air, brought his knees a little closer to the sides of his lean chest, and spread his feet.
"Good boy." Rhett's dick bobbed a couple times. He was associating `Good Boy' with good feelings and much-needed approval. More and more, those two words meant the world to him. "This position on a table, bed, or floor is called "SURRENDER." Whenever you hear the SURRENDER command, you go into this position immediately. But you do not have it exactly correct." It turned out to be Mahmoud talking to him. "Let me help you get this exact."
Mahmoud placed Rhett's knees wider apart. "There, now your knees don't obstruct or interfere with anyone who wants to torment your nipples. I mean, do you want to hinder them?"
"No, Sir. Thank you, Sir. I will remember."
"Yes. And if we place a thick pillow under your hips, it will curve your torso so your knees will rest on the table to the outsides of your chest. It's also a better fucking position."
"Thank you, Sir." This was not the first time the men mentioned fucking. But did he even hear it? Understand it?
"Now, keep your hands on your ass cheeks and apply some pressure to spread your cheeks wide apart so you are ready to be fucked. Even if no one wants to fuck you at this time, best to be ready for a fucking. Plus, it is inviting if there are strangers around. They will feel welcome to fuck you. Right, boy?"
"WHAT!... I mean.... yes, Sir." It finally registered.
"Good Boy." Rhett's body was shaking from extreme erotic sensations. Not only from what six of the men were now doing to his ass, balls, dick, and nipples but also from the erotic words Mahmoud speaking as he was training him on how best to be available to be used.
"Ok, now, your feet. See how you have your feet? They are not out wide enough." Mahmoud placed his hands on the boy's ankles and moved them wider away from his ass as far as his hips would comfortably allow. "See there? See what an improvement this position is? Now anyone who wants to fuck you or play with your dick and balls, or even spank your ass, can have a much easier time of it. See? This is your job from now on. Always remember, present your body to be used at any time, in any place, under any conditions by anyone, in private or public. That's how you become a `Good Boy.' Got that?"
"AAAAHHH!... I... I... I... see, Sir. Ya...ya...yes, Sir." He uttered as his body shook and jerked for all the erotic energy and manipulation. Many fingers were going in and out of his asshole. Some guys pushed one finger in, others used two or three when it was their turn in line. His dick was bobbing and twitching. Usually, anyone putting ANYTHING up his asshole was not only a turn-off but brought an angry, rejecting response. Could those magic two words be that powerful... and give him a raging boner? Were they ever going to let him climax? YOU HAVE TO BE KIDDING. NO WAY!
"Yes, thank you sa...sa... Sir."
"Ok, we are almost there. Now, your head, and specifically, your mouth. You have your mouth closed. That's not allowed. What are you stupid? Boy? What if someone wants to use your mouth?"
"Yes, Sir. Will someone want to kiss me?"
"Oh, I doubt it. Who wants to kiss a toilet." Many of the men laughed at that. "I suppose someone may want to kiss you, but that's not your concern. More likely, they will want to fuck your mouth hole, or should I say throat hole, since most of us have huge dicks. Or maybe some busy Master needs to piss and does not want to walk all the way to the bathroom. Here's a toilet provided by our Good Boy."
"Yes, Sir... AAAHHHH...I think I'm going to shoot." ZZZAAAPPP! That brief ZAP took care of his immediate need to shoot.
Burton interrupted, "Thank you, Master Mahmoud, for demonstrating the SURRENDER position. If he relaxes and loses it, a quick ZAP and after his body jumps around a bit, he will surely snap himself back to the exact placement of his head and limbs as you just taught him."
Then to Rhett, "Well, I see all these men are helping you or lined up to assist. Aren't you grateful?"
"Yes, Sir."
"And.... What do you say?"
"Oh fuck, thank you all. I am so honored to have my ass worked on and lubed up by all of you, Masters. Thank you so much."
"So your slave ass hole is really getting to feel great now? No doubts?"
"AAAHHH! Yes, Sir, it feels great!" He was a straight top with a virgin ass hole. Until he was snatched up and manipulated as the sub-slave trainee in The Masters Club, he only allowed a tongue to be inserted up it. Now, he was in heaven with many fingers inserted in his hole. What a fucking change, a primal re-training program of sorts. All these handsome hunky men teasing and edging his body no end. He never felt anything as wonderfully erotic as this. He mentally continued to deny it on the conscious level, but his body could not. In a real sense, his body was being worshiped by all these men.
Equally, or more important than being filled with incredible erotic sensations, was this new feeling of being cared for, not by just one man, but by everyone in his presence. It was like he was being honored, fully accepted, and ... and... loved. No woman ever made him feel like this. And fucking men now meant nothing. Only here, with these men taking full control of his entire body, did he get erotically elevated beyond any high he had ever experienced.
"You are a slave, and I am Master Burton. Do you think I should have my asshole pleased as well?"
"Oh, fuck yeah! You deserve to feel this wonderful. And having your Master's ass played with too. Sir, you will love it. It will make you feel so happy and erotic and awesome. So yes, have these men work your ass."
"Well, that is a nice recommendation, but all these men are busy pleasing YOU. So they cannot pleasure my ass. They're busy with you. So you will have to please my ass." Burton stepped to Rhett's head. "So, would you like to pleasure my asshole?"
The boy kind of freaked out. To Rhett, fingering anyone's asshole was disgusting, and there was absolutely no way he'd stick his fingers into a man's asshole. But... he wanted to obey. He removed his hands from his ass cheeks so he could insert his finger in Master Burton's ass to please him as ordered.
ZZZZAAAAAPPPPPP! He bounced and jerked wildly as the electric shock went through his body. Instantly, his hands flew back to holding his checks. He calmed down as the men continued to work his hole, balls, nipples, and dick.
"Who said you could release your ass. Since your hands are needed to hold your ass cheeks apart, how else can you pleasure my asshole?" As Burton spoke, he stood up, dropped his pants and underwear, stepped closer to where Rhett's face was on the table, and turned around to line up his asshole with the boy's face, more specifically, above his mouth.
Rhett looked at the big fat ass cheeks before him. It was like two big pillows. Burton had to reach back and pull his own cheeks apart to expose his rather large ass lips.
Rhett knew what was coming. He had a couple dry gag reflexes from thinking about what he was asked to do. In a daze, he slowly shook his head, not believing this could possibly happen. Mahmoud spoke calmly, "Here's the deal. Master Burton is going to lightly sit on your face. Your nose will be buried snuggly in his large, pillowy cheeks. You won't be able to turn your head in any way."
"Pla... pla... pla..." Rhett cried as he continued to shake his head slowly, trying to tell them, "Please, I can't do this." But not much came out.
"Now," Mahmoud continued, "your mouth will be exactly lined up with his wonderful, manly asshole. Master Burton won't use his full weight when he sits on your face. He doesn't have to. You won't be able to breathe even as he lightly sits. If nothing else happens, you will suffocate. You will die right here."
"But... please... I..." Rhett was in total shock.
"However, your life is in your hands. You, not Master Burton, get to control if and when you breathe."
"Oh, God, thank you."
"Yes, when he seals off your airway, and you can't breathe, just insert your tongue into his ass. That's the only way you can communicate. It's that easy. But you do have to be sure to get his attention by pushing your tongue in his asshole deeply and moving and licking the inside. Since you won't be able to speak, this is how you ask Master Burton, `Please, may I have air, Sir?' The more you move your tongue around, the sooner your Master realizes you need air. It's the only communication that will work. Clear?" Rhett did not respond, still in a weird daze.
Without further ado, as they say, Burton, holding his cheeks apart, slowly sat on the new save boy's face, wiggling his ass hole to properly place it over Rhett's closed mouth. Then Burton released his hold on his own ass cheeks to allow them to nicely seal off the boy's air supply. And those big fluffy pillow ass cheeks smothered Rhett completely.
At that very moment, one of the men, Alexandro, a short, muscular Mexican member with a huge, uncut cock, signaled for the guys fingering the boy's ass hole to vacate. Then he slowly and carefully, in one easy motion, pushed his dick, balls deep, into Rhett's ass. He was careful, gentle, and patient. Rhett didn't think about his ass being penetrated. What a useless thought that is. Rhett's ONLY concern -- despite need - was air. He wanted this fat-assed bastard off his face so he could breathe. He was panicking. He knew he was not to move his body, but his arms and legs did involuntarily jerk and spasm in anticipation of suffocation. Even so, he did not allow himself to yank his arms and legs away from those enjoying them.
Alexandro was an expert at this virgin asses. He knew Rhett was at the height of distraction. The boy's desperate need for air was his only concern. Master Alexandro knew that too, so he slowly and calmly moved his big fat dick outward, leaving only an inch inside the boy's warm wet cavity. There was no reaction from Rhett's introduction to his first fucking. Master Alexandro then slowly pushed inward all the way. He was working slowly and methodically. He continued his painfully slow sawing rhythm without stopping, speeding up, or slowing down.
The boy could not breathe. He refused to intentionally move any of his body parts and could not stop the increasing involuntary twitching of his hips and limbs. He was suffocating.
Rhett didn't know what to do. Actually, he did, but he refused to do any disgusting ass licking. He was a top, the fucker. He could not breathe! Although he was unaware he was being fucked, because it was done so slowly, and he could not see anything. He did feel his nipples being pinched hard and pulled, his vibrating dick was being lightly touched, and his bare feet, which he still held high up and spread far apart, were being tickled as his balls were being licked. He was in an airless frenzy. He tried to move his head. He wanted to struggle free., but, FUCH, he knew that was not allowed.
Then, a smile appeared on Burton's face. He nodded to signal that he was receiving a rimming job. Rhett's ears were covered in ass cheek fat, so he couldn't hear the cheers. But Burton did not immediately lift his ass. He let his ass suffocate Rhett as the boy struggled more and more wildly. Then...
Burton allowed the boy to breathe. Rhett immediately gasped and coughed and wheezed.
"What do you say?" Mahmoud asked.
"Oh... oh... I..." The boy was still sharply gasping, sucking in air, trying to recover. "Oh... thank... you... kind... Sir."
Interestingly, no one stopped their teasing of the boy. He was continually slow-fucked, but it was now being done by the next club member in line, Master Zhou, a dark-complected Chinese man who was the past board chairman. Everyone was getting his turn at whatever he wanted to do with the boy. Rhett was not paying attention to any of this. He could breathe. He was gulping air. FINALLY, IT WAS OVER!
"Here's the deal," Mahmoud told the boy, always speaking calmly. "I said you control when you breathe. I meant that. You needed air; you were suffocating, and you wanted to breathe. You were tonguing the inside of Master Burton's asshole, and yet, he did not stand up. Why did he not let you breathe sooner when you were close to death?"
Rhett just looked blankly at Mahmoud. "It's because you were fighting, resisting, struggling, disobeying." Actually, it was not true. Rhett had demonstrated his ability to be still more than any other slave trainee they worked with... or, worked over. The Masters knew that and loved it, but they wanted to see Rhett pushed further, try harder, and be fully overwhelmed in his efforts to please and obey. They were greatly satisfied!
"You know you can be a `Good Boy,'" Rhett nodded quickly. His dick responded instantly to the magic hypnotic phrase even as he was unaware of it. AAAAHHHHH! "Yes, you can. I've seen it. We all see how good you can be. So, listen carefully. When Master Burton sits on your face again, and you need air, you must accept his ass, love it, and work it aggressively with your tongue to let him know you would like a little air. BUT... at the same time, you must keep your body absolutely still. I don't want to see your arm twitch, your legs jerk, your hip rinse off the table. Those movements are offensive to us. Any tiny movements are an insult."
Rhett's eyes teared up, but he did not openly cry. He could do better. He knew it. The boy was listening. He was terrified because he could control nothing. As a top, he controlled everything. But not here, not now. He didn't know if he could do this. He started bucking his hips in response to all the guy slow-fucking him to try to get him to speed up. It was only natural. "No," Mahmoud said as if talking to a little child. In a whisper, "No, stop all your movements. Why? Because your body, this body, no longer belongs to you. Therefore, it is not yours to control or even to move. It is only to be controlled by your betters." Then Mahmoud nodded to Burton, and he again lowered his over-stuffed pillow ass and wiggled it to center his hole properly and tightly over the slave's mouth, sealing it from the air.
All the men observed Rhett holding his position with his hands still grabbing his own ass cheeks, his legs up and wide apart with his knees spread also, and no other movement. Jenson did assist in re-setting the boy's feet wider apart. That was OK. Rhett did not know if he was supposed to lick Burton's ass right away or wait until he needed air. He decided to tongue his ass immediately. But no air. He continued to do as told. It was the ONLY thing he could do. He remained absolutely still. No resistance.
Burton waited another 30 seconds, which seemed like an eternity for Rhett, and then lifted his ass off the boy. Rhett gasped for air but was less panicky this time. He was being trained. He realized, much more seriously, that if he obeys, his Masters will care for him. But... Mahmoud wanted to push this new slave further and make it a bit more difficult for him.
"Wow! Such as Good Boy!" they all applauded. Since Rhett's face was momentarily uncovered, he saw the smiles and heard the approval. They even cheered the boy. The boy's dick was bouncing and jerking, straining to climax. AAAAAHHHHH! It had nothing to do with Rhett's desires. That dick was under the control of its many Masters. Plus, the boy was still being fucked non-stop. Which now felt beautiful as he was licked all over and toyed with, as he remained open, still, and available. Amazing! He was learning to exert zero control.
"Please, kind Sirs, I controlled my ... myself, but... I really need to shoot. Please, may I shoot? I can't stand it. I... need..."
In the calmest voice, Mahmoud said, "Clmax is something you need, but we Masters don't see any need for it at all. So... that would be a no. Now, if your dick drips naturally, that's allowed, but you cannot allow it or get yourself to blast off. No way. That's tampering with our property. However, because we are kind, loving Masters, we will vote on it later. If you have pleased all of us.... Maybe."
"Oh, thank you. I am so happy. Thank you. So much. You make me feel so... so... valuable, so good." And this time, he teared up in a release of ecstatic emotions. Zhou never stopped his slow fuck.
Something was on Rhett's mind, a need, dare he mention it? He did, "Master Mahmoud, may I ask for something?"
"Since this is your first time, yes."
"Thank you, Sir. Can Master... ah..." He did not know Zhou's name. "Can the Master fucking my ass, speed it up, and do it harder so I may climax naturally... I mean... as a slut slave boy?" Zhou continued without altering his pace.
"Are you saying that Master Zhou is not an expert at fucking a slut like you? That he does not know what he is doing? That you know better than Master Zhou?"
As Zhou fucked in his slow motion, measured rhythm, he was delighted by Rhett's request, as were all the other smiling Masters. Rhett broke down and sobbed. "Oh, I am so sorry. I'm so stupid. I'm so fucking selfish. What an idiot I am to stupidly make a suggestion to a wise and wonderful Master. Please..." He sobbed louder. The members loved it. "Please forget me. Oh, god, please forgive me..."
Rhett's brain was saturated with the need to submit to these men. His own body, enveloping in excruciating pleasure, was ordering his self-respecting, controlling mind to fuck off. Of course, he didn't understand it, but the members of The Masters Club did. And that's all that mattered.
And down went Burton's ass to cover Rhett's face again. This time the boy licked and sucked that incredible manly asshole, moving his tongue in and out, deeper and deeper, without moving a muscle in his body. He could not breathe. He knew that. But if he obeys, he does not need to worry about air. He thought, "If I just do my fucking job, I'll be safe and protected. These men value me, care about me, want me." The men around him moved HIM, but he never moved a muscle. He was their live slave doll, and he was now fine with that.
Jasper began filming this highly degrading training session to create more videos to upload on GayTies.com.
Burton was no dummy. None of the Masters were. Burton knew not to hurt Rhett. He knew what the boy could take, even pushing his limits. Then he lifted his ass again. Rhett was so happy and pleased! Rhett found that he was enjoying pleasing Masrer Burton.
"Well, boy, you impress me. You impressed us. Just a good ass licker." Rhett blushed with embarrassment. "Yes, a Good Boy' and good ass licker." More cheers. "In fact, we found a name for you, no more Rhett. From now on, you are Ass Licker.' That makes you a very `Good Boy.'"
AAAAHHHHH! Rhett's body all of a sudden trembled. His dick, now, with no one sucking or touching it, was doing its own erotic dance. Jerking up and down, twitching, ready to shoot. But Rhett neither pursued nor reacted in any way to that need. It was a need, oh yes, but it was no longer HIS need.
That simple tactic of sitting on Rhett's face to stop his breathing AND his learning to accept it.... clicked a switch in the boy's brain. He was no longer focused on his freedom, his ability to move, his dick, or his need to climax.
"Oh, thank you, kind Sirs. I will do..."
"Here's a new problem."
Rhett was shocked. He could not believe he was doing anything wrong. He just stopped and stared. He was trying so hard to be a `Good Boy.'
"Ass Licker, you see this handsome Master who is next in line to fuck you?" Rhett raised his head and then nodded. "You see how tall he is? Like 6' 4"?" Again, the boy nodded. "Well, your ass is flat on the table -- which was great for all these other men -- but Master Whitmire here would need to stoop down to line up his dick with your asshole." Another nod. "That's too much trouble for a Master. Too uncomfortable. So, we need you to raise your ass off the tabletop. Thrust your hips up as high as you can and hold them there like a `Good Boy.' OK? Can you do that for him?" A nod. That boy-dick was stiff, bobbing, red, angry... AND out of his control.
Image! Here is Rhett, his back and head on the bar table, now lifting his ass way up so high that his hips to his knees formed a 40-degree ski slope. It took a lot of constant tense muscle strain to hold this position... and for how long? He still held his legs way up and wide and used his hands to hold his ass cheeks apart. FUCK! Every muscle in his body was strained, and all the Masters knew it... AND LOVED IT! They were proud. They knew he couldn't hold this position for long, but they would tell him it was required. It wasn't true, but they didn't want to tell him he was absolutely perfect! No, he needs to know he is deficient and must try harder.
"You need a lot of training, but you are progressing. Now," Mahmoud asked, "as Master Burton places his asshole over your mouth, is it OK for Master Whitmire to fuck you? You'll have to hold your ass way up like that. So, are you OK with all of this?"
`OH, FUCK! YES, SIR!" Rhett yelled to get this over with. He was straining his guys out. They, of course, were not asking for his permission. It was all a brain fuck.
"Now, in a most enthusiastic way, invite these two great Masters to do what they want."
"Oh please, Master Whitmire, please fuck my ass in any way you enjoy. And..."
"Well. I like to fuck slowly," Master Whitmire interrupted, speaking calmly in his deep, baritone voice, "I mean slower than these other Masters have fucked you." "Is that OK with you, Ass Licker?" Of course, he was not asking for permission.
"I love to take 15 seconds to ease it into you fully and the same amount of time easing it out." Rhett did choke up a little and tried to hide it.
He knew he'd never climax like that. "Yes, Sir, please enjoy yourself."
"And what do you have to ask Master Burton?" Mahmoud asked?
"Yes, sir, please sit on my face and let me please you. It will make me so happy to give you maximum pleasure, kind Sir."
Mahmoud nodded for both men to begin. First, Burton sat on Rhett's face and wiggled himself into place. Rhett remained motionless. Then Whitmire guided his long firm dick to Rhett's raised asshole and pushed it. The boy's elevated ass was quite relaxed, not loose, but workable, and he slowly pushed in and pulled out repeatedly, each in and out cycle taking 30 seconds. The boy did not move.
Burton was smiling and gave the group a thumbs up. Rhett was becoming the best new slave boy of all their recent conquests. They relished his money, yes, absolutely. But this slave's abilities were coming along phenomenally well. There was no greater result to be gained. The last three slave victims lasted 20 to 60 days, and then they stopped using them for various reasons, mainly because they were used up. So they were "let go" after cleaning out their accounts. The club had developed a clever way to transition them back to wherever.
When a boy was no long of any use, meaning there was no more to gain financially, and he was no longer fun to manipulate, they would bring him to the nearby homeless area where there were rows of shitty makeshift tents along a downtown street. This was just after they kept him awake for 48 hours to numb and disorient him. Under cover of darkness, a couple of Masters would put the still-naked, sleepy boy inside or next to one of the tents and throw him a blanket. One of the Masters taped a tiny data disk to his chest. They left him to get his much-needed rest. When the boy wakes, whenever it is, he will become aware of where he is and where he wants to be. He'd soon leave the homeless encampment on his own or with the help of others and head back to who knows where. At some point, he'd find his bank accounts emptied and closed. Plus, he'd soon notice that whatever monthly checks he used to get were also rerouted to The Masters Club's offshore accounts. Typically, he'd soon contact those payers and reroute future monthly payments back to himself. In the meantime, the 12 members of the Masters Club kept all they had acquired.
You might wonder, what if a boy makes a report to the police telling them he was abducted, induced, or involved in the criminal Masters Club. Well, that data disk taped to the boy's chest contains COPIES of a bunch of photos and video clips showing the boy begging to suck dick, eat ass, and be fucked, and willingly submitting himself to all kinds of sexual abuse and... enjoying it. So, a police report? Highly unlikely.
But, Rhett, now `Ass Licker,' is way above the other three in performance, useability, enjoyability, and personal value to these men. Henry already suggested that they should keep him for a long time. The reasons were obvious: One, he was cute, obedient, and so fun to continue to play with. Two, although they already had all of his financial assets -- over $240,000 - he also had an appreciable constant flow of monthly income being routed to the club's organization. And three, the Masters felt he was really enjoying being a fagot sub-slave who is now fully into being degraded, dehumanized, abused, and seeks continuous training in all acts of ever-increasing perversion.
To be continued.....
"SURRENDER?" They just whisper the word, and Ass Licker snaps into the most vulnerable position he can, holding his ass cheeks wide apart so every part of his body is easily and immediately accessible. Wow! Maybe he is truly a Good Boy." Don't forget, his assshole is virgin.
I hope you like this story and its progression. I have many others I want to share with you. But most of my stories are too intense and graphic to be approved for inclusion on Nifty. So they are posted on https://www.gayties.com/. (You have to join, but membership is free.)
Send your comments to Bruce Darkforce at gaydic@gmail.com