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THE XAVIER - PART THREE
I took the lead and pulled him onto the house - through the utility room and kitchen and front hall to a doorway opening onto a few steps into a room I had added at the back, a roughly finished space with a cement floor I had kitted out and painted black. He followed meekly, only occasionally stumbling when I pulled him unfairly too fast to negotiate the doors. I stood him in the middle of the darkened room where a pool of light issued from a bulb tacked into the rafters. I've got a comfortable chair that I sat on. He didn't seem overly worried by things. His hands were clasped in front of him and held his bag. His lead hung down to his waist. His weight was concentrated on his right leg. Despite his casual attitude he had a statuesque grace I'd enjoy violating, I thought. "Think you better remove your tee," I said, "for a start." "Yes Sir," he complied, reaching the hem of his shirt and pulling it up off over his head. The lead followed through and fell with a slap. He stood with the tee in his hand looking for somewhere to put it. "Here," I said, and he threw it to me. I squeezed it a second to get a sense of its smell and his sweat then I threw it down. "Just turn around for me there." He did so. Lovely. As he moved the light fell in so many different ways across the smooth reflective surface of his body. I could watch this pretty thing spin for days! He had some body hair but nothing crazy. I knew he had a bush from the sight of it sprouting towards his navel. His back was shiny like marble - it begged to be destroyed by a good whipping. "Next ... Socks. Trainers." "Yes Sir." He knelt to untie his shoes and then, lead clinking on the grey cement, pulled his socks off and put them in before standing again, his bare feet next to his pair of shoes. His strong athletic toes gripped the floor individually, his arches magnificently pronounced.
His clasped his hands in front again and balanced on his right leg. "There's a lot to sort out here," I stated. A look of confusion crossed his face. He corrected his stance without thinking so that both legs were straight, but his hands he left the same. "Yes Sir," he mumbled, a little crestfallen. "Ok. Let's continue. Get those jeans off. I mean, I like them, that they're so tight, but they need to come off." "Yes Sir," he mumbled again. He open his fly and started to ease his trousers off, which was quite slow because they had to be eased off his butt and slid down each leg. Lovely to watch. He wore little elasticated, cream-coloured briefs. I noticed he had lost his hardon when he finally stood upright again; I could see his junk flattened into a compact lump. Now his jeans were in his hand like the skin of a dead animal. "Give them to me," I said. He padded over and handed them to me. I threw them onto the floor on my left. "And the shoes." "Oh. Yes. Sir. I forgot. Sorry." He padded back and bent down to pick them up, stretching his briefs so that they seemed to disappear into his skin before standing so that the fold of his arsecrack appeared like a pencil line across his backside - before the fabric popped out and drooped like a windless sail. It seemed that he was already getting unsure of himself. I was pleased at our progress. Soon, he would beg for me to give him more explicit and detailed instructions as his ability to make his own decisions broke down. He stood now facing me with his shoes hooked in one hand and his cords hanging from the other; the line of his lead drew an off-centre line down his chest and dangled like a pendulum next to his penis. "That's ok boi. Pile up your other stuff over there and put them on top." I let him run about; finding his belongings, folding them, piling them, balancing his trainers like a kind of temple on top, before finally returning to his place in front of me. "Why are you wearing underpants?" I asked. "Oh sorry Sir," he said, making to remove them. "NO! I mean, you weren't wearing them before, when I met you. I thought I told you to wear exactly what you wore then." "I was wearing them Sir!" he protested. I liked the way he responded, not defiantly but defensively as I would expect. "I was wearing them Sir but they got tucked down inside when I walked and I didn't get to pull them back up so you didn't see them. Sorry Sir. They just weren't visible Sir but I was wearing them honestly I was! Sir ..." I believed him. "I don't know whether to believe you," I said. "If you lie about this, what else are you going to try to keep secret?" "I'm not lying Sir honestly Sir!" I looked at him distrustfully as though trying to consider whether to continue or not. "You spin a fast tale," I said. "You probably wore them because you wanted to feel safe did you? You wanted to not feel that your cords were going to get dirty or that when you had to strip off you would have this extra layer to hide behind. Did you wear them for protection?" "I - I'm sorry Sir," he said. "Shall I take them off?" "Don't!!" I ordered him. "Don't do anything until I tell you. I just want to have a look at this. Turn around." I liked the way his bottom showed through the puckers in his briefs. They looked so cheap - probably a pack of five for a pound down the market. The elastic dug into his skin a little - that would leave a mark - and the arse was invitingly hidden between the loose hang of them at the back. At the front they were cut so unisex that his dick curled inside with no space to stretch. "You're fine," I said. "I'll take them off Sir, if you want." "You'll do anything if I want," I said definitively, and left it at that. I noticed him look at me with a renewed excitement and trust. He understood the deal and was ready to play. "You ok?" "Yes Sir thank you Sir I am ok." He smiled. I got up and walked towards him. I picked up his lead, flipped it across his shoulder and held onto it as I walked behind him and took a look at the merchandise; his muscular back curved out, then in, then out again at the buttocks. I had a pair of handcuffs nearby. I let the lead drop. "Hands behind your back boi." He did; possibly heard the clink of the handcuffs when I picked them up. I slipped them on to him and tightened them up quickly, to avoid any upset. I felt him shudder with excitement and placed a hand over his pouch where his dick was trying to straighten out. I groped his gorgeous lean body - his nipples were rock hard - and gently stroked the hair where it gathered on his chest and down his tummy. He exhaled audibly as in "(y)essssss", and pushed his buttocks back so that I could feel him, willing me to fill him up. I grabbed his arsecheeks through his briefs and gave them a squeeze. It was good to feel him clench his glutes - trying to impress me? Or just reacting naturally to the somewhat forceful grip I was placing on him. I felt like I had a present I was delaying opening when I thought again of that hole waiting for me.
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END OF THE XAVIER - PART THREE