Disclaimer: No minors are depicted in this story. This is a work of fiction.
"Wolf"
Copyright Brian Black 2007
CHAPTER 1
That summer he was usually standing around the flagpole near the parking lot around noon shooting the shit with his friends; blond hair damp with sweat, shirtless, too- tight adidas track pants rolled up over his calves, tight around his full ass. He was probably sixteen or seventeen, blond, cocky, exhibiting a tight and beautiful body that had not yet full matured. I forgot how I got him into my apartment, with flattery or a bribe, but I told him I was a photographer and wanted him for a shoot. He followed me home; I could feel nervousness and a little excitement radiating off him. I unlocked the main, let him in, locked it after him. I watched his ass muscles move under his low- slung pants as he ascended the stairs, the drop of sweat that rolled down his strong back and down under the damp waistband. I let him into my studio, the room across from my apartment. I put my hand on his shoulder, squeezed the muscle gently. "You want a beer before we start?" "Uh, yeah." I got a Bass out the mini- fridge in the corner, opened it, handed it to him. He sucked it down pretty fast; he looked more nervous. I knew I had to get him to relax a bit before I could get what I wanted. "Another?" He nodded, I got him another. He tipped it back, he had his thumb hooked into his track pants, pulling the waistband a few inches lower. I thought I glimpsed a bit of soft blond pubic hair. He'd finished his second beer and was sweating a bit harder. The room was sweltering. I opened him a third beer without asking if he wanted it and flicked on some of the studio lights. His discomfort, his sweat was a turn- on. "Let's start with some easy ones, to get you warmed up. Relax. There's the rest of that 12-pack in the fridge if you want 'em" "What'dya want me to do?" "Just pose for me." I picked up my camera and snapped a few of him just standing there. He warmed up a bit and started to strike a few poses, copied directly from magazine shots of arrogant celebrities. He was so nervous and so vain. Eyes slanted, muscles tensed. His body was showing off but his eyes were wary, of me, of the camera. Some of the sweat that drenched the waistband of his pants was nervousness, I guess, but a lot of it was heat; it must have been 95 in my apartment. "This ok?" He kept striking the cliched poses. I had only taken a few photos, none of them of his poses. I had a nice one of his ass spread under his adidas as he bent over to grab his fourth beer, another of his lean, smooth chest stretched out as he drank the last few drops of his fifth, the bottle tipped up over his head. And I caught a nice action shot of him stumbling as he walked toward the fridge for his seventh. "Shit, I'm getting pretty drunk." I hung my camera around my neck and walked over to him as he opened number seven. I put an arm around his shoulders and risked drawing him a bit closer to me. He drunkenly leaned into my sort-of embrace and I figured that he was now lubricated enough to be pushed a bit outside of his normal comfort zone. I reached for a beer for myself, and as I did I slid my arm down lower to his waist. His eyes expressed something between alarm and curiosity. I reluctantly pulled my arm of his warm, firm, sweaty body and picked up my camera. "Look, let's get those trackies off, ok?" "No way." His words were slurred. "Take the fucking pants off." "No way, faggot. No fucking wa-" he stopped mid- sentence as I pulled out my walled and rolled up two fifties in between my finger and thumb. "C'mon. Ok, just slide a hand down the front. A little. I'll make it worth it." I guess he was drunk enough to be bought, because with a lot of eye rolling and a little sigh he stuck his hand into his adidas and hooked his thumb over the waistband, tugging them down a bit. He revealed a little line of elastic hugging his hips. "For 'nother hundred I'll lose em." Little whore, I thought. "Ok, you got it man. Get your gear off." He made a big show of hemming and hawing this time but he slid the adidas down to his ankles and to my great joy stood there, still sort of posing, in an adorable pair of tight white briefs. I couldn't help but let out a low whistle. "I want you to turn around and put your hands on the wall, like a police search." He actually did it;I got great shots of his ass with the damp cotton a bit transparent, hugging his tight, high ass. "C'mon," I half joked, "Spread 'em. C'mon kid, open up wide." He edged his feet apart. I held the camera low and got a shot up in between his legs. I could see a sliver of his balls under the cotton and no hair. "You shave?" I asked, handing him another beer. "Yeah, I guess." He muttered, a little embarrassed. "Listen, relax," I said. "This is nothing, ok? A chance for you to bring home some extra cash and show off a little. Just give me what I want and we'll be fine." He drained the beer, belched, grimaced and snorted. "For a thou I'm yours for the night." "Great, man! That's great. You got it. I'm getting some great shots." I could barely help laughing; when he'd said "yours for the night" I'll bet he had no idea what he was in for. "Take your briefs off. " I dropped my casual act, this was a command. His ego and his inebriation predictably eclipsed his suspicion at this whole situation. He hooked his thumbs into his waistband, slid the briefs down, over his ass first, his dick and balls popped out next, then down below his knees and into a wet pile on the floor. I was delighted; he was beautifully groomed. His pubes were trimmed short, his balls smooth. His deliciously fluffed- up dick was uncut, short but fat. He has the lean and muscular thighs of a soccer player, a narrow waist and a broad chest. I breathed in hard. I picked up my camera and started taking photographs in earnest. He was breathing heavy, too, his tight stomach moving in and out, the bright studio lights reflecting off his sweaty skin. He moved to show off his body, and the stupid poses were gone. I had him sit, stand, turn, lie down, turn over. I stood over his naked body and photographed his back, I pushed him against the wall and photographed his grimace, I bent him over and photographed his perfect, untanned ass. As I posed him, I had touched his face, his neck, his arms, his chest, his back, his stomach, his thighs. I wanted more. "How far are you willing to go?"
"Whatever, man." His words tried to convey a cool nonchalance, but the tone of his voice revealed his nervousness. "I want you to stroke it under the shorts. Get hard." He began to. But in front of the camera, his nervousness got the better of him. He couldn't get it up. "Take a whiff out of the bottle on the dresser; it'll loosen you up." He did. He recoiled a bit at first. The drug was new to him. But as he continued to work himself, his shorts were soon tented by his erect cock, and drawn tight against his ass. As his labor continued, sweat poured out of him. My bedroom must have been 95 degrees. The waistband of his shorts was soaking, the nylon turning a darker blue. A spot of this same dark blue began to spread forth from the front of the shorts, where his piss slit and the tip of his glans stood out in relief. I zoomed in on a trickle of sweat as it trailed from his shoulder, down his chest, and down the dark, humid sliver of air between waistband of the shorts and the V of the boy's abdomen. "Good boy." I snapped more photos, and he (whatever his name was) began to run with it. He worked himself until his body was quaking. The shorts came off. His cock was slim and pale, like he was. His sweat provided ample lubrication; his fist made a slapping sound as it impacted with his lowest abdomen, sweat dripped off his hairless balls, droplets were flung into the air by the frantic motion on his hand. The camera caught the drops of sweat, the clenched fist, the tears at the corners of his eyes, the thick, undulating river of precome that swung like a bolero on the tip of his cock before it was flung across the room. His pretend bravado cast a light of innocence over the scene, this naked annonymous boy masturbating in my bedroom, shorts around his ankles, damp with sweat. "Stop." It killed me to say it; the boy was so desperate, he wanted it so badly, that I almost felt tortured by denying him completion. But I knew that the moment he blew, the shoot would be over, he'd collect his wits, his shorts, and leave. And there was much more I wanted to photograph. By this time between the two of us we had finished off the first 12-pack and were halfway through a second. The studio heat was getting to me too, my shirt was off. He was getting looser and I was getting braver. "You have... a beautiful ass." I whispered it into his ear, and he gave a shitfaced grin. "Bullshit, faggot." He pushed playfully against my chest. I cupped one firm asshalf in my hand. I squeezed. "Fuck off! Fuck... off!" He tried to pull away, I was afraid I would lose him. He made for the door, grabbed the knob and opened it and was about to make down the steps before it hit him that he was butt naked and sporting half a woody. I jumped, grabbed his arm and pulled him back in the room. I knew I had to get him back. I put a hand around his sweat- drenched half- hard dick and began to stroke it. Despite himself, the boy hesitated. His eyes closed. A tiny moan slipped from his lips. "Have you ever done any bondage stuff?" "We're going to keep going. You're going to stay." "Uh... ok." I stroked his slow up and down the full length of his cock; it was engorging in my hand with every rapid heartbeat. "We're not done. We have to keep going." "God... ok. Ok. Ok." He breathed hard. I stretched his foreskin up and down over his glans; he was shivering despite the heat. "Let's go across the hall." "Fuck... ok... whatever you say." I led him by the dick across the hall into my apartment. He stumbled in the hall, fell to the ground, his cock slid out of my grasp. He moaned. I picked him up, his hard, heavy body, and kicked open my apartment door and carried him through. He gave another drunken grin and threw his arms around my neck; I almost dropped him but I managed to get him into the bedroom and tossed him onto the bed, where he bounced and laughed. He was back in high spirits. He was jerking himself off slowly, he got on his knees and bent over, waving his ass in the air, still laughing. The sight of the cocky straight boy now trying ineptly to seduce a man was both hilarious and impossibly sexy. My own dick was now rock hard. The boy's attention was now off me and totally focused on his dick. He was stroking himself harder and faster. I moved toward him; I didn't want him to come yet. While his head was turned away I grabbed the handcuffs out of the nightstand; he was drunk enough not to notice them behind my back as I kneeled over his prone body. I took his free hand and moved it to the brass rails at the head of the bed and clicked one cold metal bracelet around his left wrist. Before the haze in his brain cleared I interrupted his busy right hand's work and forced it up and into the other bracelet and secured it. His eyes went wide; he knew he was trapped. He pulled against his restraints, he kicked his legs. "What the fuck, man? What the fuck are you doin' to me?" I grabbed the cameral; I recorded his pointless struggle. His muscled contorted, his legs flailed, he rattled his chains, his ass contracted and relaxed, his face was a tense and contorted grimace. I pulled off my shoes and yanked down my jeans and briefs as fast as possible. My boy freaked out. "Fuck you, asshole! Fuck you! Get the fuck away from me!" He tried to kick in my direction, I dodged his attempts easily. I grabbed his ankles out of the air, forced them down, and sat across his thighs. I grabbed a gag out of the nightstand. "Now baby, if you keep screaming, I'll use this. But if you relax, you might like what I'm about to do to you. But if you don't, remember there's still the gag." I grabbed the ankle cuffs from under the bed. I am not a practicer of silk- scarf, low- wattage restraint. "Now baby, you gotta behave." He looked like he was about to cry but he was still totally erect. He was only about five inches long fully hard but as big around as my wrist. I grabbed his ankles and stretched them over his head, all the way down next to his ears. My own cock sprung up in my jeans as I tightened the leather cuffs, the boy was now mine. I secured them to the bed with the cuffs and went for my camera. His ass was up in the air, totally exposed and vulnerable, waiting for me. I took a few shots. My boy wriggled and clenched his ass as if that would maintain his dignity. My own dick begged for release; I wanted to plunge my eight inches into his certainly virgin ass, to fuck him wildly and make him hurt and make him love it, but it wasn't time yet. I put the camera down and got back on the bed. I ran my hands all over him, pinched his nipples, gently pulled his hair, massaged his straining thighs. I turned him to face me. I trailed a finger from his high, fine cheekbone down to the nape of his neck, then licked the salt from my fingers. I could almost smell the fear rising from him, but there was excitement, too. He was shivering a bit despite the heat. I spread his still- clenched ass with my hands as exposed his flexing, pink asshole. When I took my hands, dripping with his sweat and mine, away from his ass he tensed it up again and I ran my forefinger along his tight asscrack. I applied a little pressure. "Fuck, man, don't fuck me..." "Shh. Good boy. Relax. You'll enjoy this." I got up and grabbed my camera and the wet briefs from the floor. "Besides," I said as I balled them up and stuffed them in his mouth, "We're getting some great shots." "God, please, arrg don't fuck me." "Shh.... No talking now, baby. Don't forget the gag. I'm gonna do what I fucking want to, like it or not. Just take it baby, take it." I pushed my finger into his warm velvet insides. He bore down with his ass, trying to expel my invasion of him, but his bouncing dick betrayed, on some level, the desires he would not admit to himself. "Relax baby, relax." He tried to yell, or scream, as the reality of his position hit him. There would be no more bravado, no more showing off. I snapped a few shots of his naked, exposed ass. I laughed when he tried to clench it, as if that would maintain his dignity. My now rock- hard cock was beginning to cause me some discomfort beneath my jeans, so I unbuttoned the fly and stripped them off. My sweaty tee came next, then my briefs. The boy's eyes widened; he though I was take him right there. He was right, in a way, but not just yet. I slid a calloused fingertip up and down and up and down his ass crack, each time stopping for a bit longer at the twitching entrance to his gut. His screams of protest, or perhaps pain, were muffled by the shorts as I rammed my index finger into him. I loved this: hard, posturing, pretend tough boy on the outside had given me unrestricted access to his tender, warm insides. His asshole sucked at the base of my finger, so I began to fuck him a bit with it. It was too much for him, I could tell. He was bucking wildly, trussed as he was, his whole body thrashing and heaving, eyes wide and panicked. His cock, miraculously, was still hard as granite and bobbed and whipped as he twisted and began to cry. I finger- fucked him harder. He grimaced and gritted his teeth, but he didn't yell. My boy was learning quick. My finger, lubricated with out mutual sweat, slid in and out of him, and as the fucking sped up his ass began to relax, inviting me to go deeper and harder. His ragged breath started to match the rhythm of my forefinger and despite his visible disgust I thought I heard a small muffled moan escape his lips. I added a second finger, and because my boy was behaving so well, I curled my fingers up inside him to gently stroke his prostate. The result was electric. His wriggling ceased and his whole body froze, he emitted a loud grunt. I continued to stroke and massage his gland as I fucked him, and finally, as I had predicted, he relinquished his young body to me. He began to move with me in earnest, his ass slamming against my hand as my fingers slammed into him. He grunted at each impact, he willingly accepted a third finger. His whole body twitched and quivered, his face was now slack and his eyes rolled back, he was an animal, my baby, my boy, my whore. My captured prey. His cock was livid and purple, the veins stood out like ropes beneath the skin. His ass began to convulse, squeezing and unsqueezing faster and faster. His abs were flexing, his thighs were quivering, his nipples erect and his chest tight. Because it was the cruelest thing I could think to do, I withdrew just before the moment of climax and pulled out the gag. He looked heartbroken for a second, and then... "Jesus christ, asshole, finish me off! Fuck me, fucker!" He was almost crying, he lifted his now- empty ass toward me, his face looked panicked. I put a hand on his chest and moved over him, careful to avoid his cock which was still primed to explode. I moved my face close to his; I put my free hand on his cheek. "No, baby, that's not how it works. I get to say when you come, not the other way around. I'll forgive the outburst this one time, but don't forget you're mine now. You'll come, but only when I say so." I was running my cock across his asscrack, he tried to impale himself on me but I pulled away. I desperately wanted to get off, to officially claim him as my own, to plunge into him and burst up inside his gut, but I got even greater pleasure out of watching him beg. And now that I had shown him what I could do, what I could make him do, I had a very important question for him. "Baby, I want to fuck you. But only if I can fuck you on my terms. So I need to ask you something. Who do you belong to?" "Oh, God, you. I belong to you." "Good boy. Do you want the collar? Think hard about this. If you say yes, you become mine. I say what you do, what you eat, when you sleep, when you come, where you go. If you take the collar, you're all mine until I'm done with you, until I let you go. You can't change your mind. I'll own you. I released his restraints. He looked at me, fear and hope in his eyes. I got the keys from the drawer and undid his manacles; he was free. For the only time in our relationship, my future was in his power. "Give me the collar." I could barely restrain my smile. He was a good boy. I got off the sweat- soaked bed. I went into the bedroom closet and took the collar from the back. It was a steel collar, padded with black leather, a hinge on one side and two interlocking rings on the other. The collar was attached to a 10 foot long steel chain that had a lockable ring on the other end. I handed him the collar and the combination padlock that went with it. He took the collar with reverence and closed it around his neck and then took the lock. He was exhausted, his body racked, but he got off the bed and kneeled on the ground with the open side toward me. He put the lock in my hands. "I want you do do it." I ran my fingers through his wet blond hair, maneuvered the padlock through the rings, twisted it into the closing position. "Are you sure? This is you last chance to go home." He nodded, silently. I clicked the lock shut, and the boy was mine.
I dressed and kissed my boy hard on his full, soft lips. I picked up his lead and led him to the door. I hooked a thumb in his lower lip and he sucked on it, tasting his own sweat again. "We're going somewhere else, somewhere private where I can keep you. But I can't tell you where, so you're going to wear a blindfold. I locked his lead to the bed, left the room, and got his discarded track pants, still wet, from my studio across the hall. I came back to him, his chest still heaving and his eyes longing, and tied the wet nylon around his face. "Stand." He got up. I couldn't resist slapping him on his hard ass, almost as hard as I could, and he yelped. "There's more where that came from," I whispered into his ear, "I'm going to hurt you and pleasure you whenever I want from now on." I led him out and down the stairs, still naked. It was dark, so no one saw as I hustled him into the back of my van. I locked his chain to a ring welded onto the side of the van and got behind the wheel. I drove him out of the city, miles out. I drove for hours while my boy sat on naked on the cold steel floor in the back of the van. We finally arrived at the house, a small home surrounded on all sides by acres of forest. I got out, opened the back door of the van, and unchained my boy. "Stand up. Get out." He did. I led him into the house, through the front door, down the steps to the cellar, and lifted the grill that obscured the entrance to the sub-basement. I opened the final door to the sparse, soundproof bedroom below. The room had a concrete floor, an iron- frame cot in the center, and a toilet and shower in the corner. There was an iron ring sunk into the concrete floor near the far wall. I locked my boy's lead to this ring, then shortened his lead to about four feet with another lock. He had just enough room to get onto the bed and reach the facilities; I offered him these luxuries for his good behavior. He could not get anywhere near the door or the light switch. "Sit." He did, and I removed the blindfold. "This is your new home for as long as I want to keep you. There are some rules here which you will follow, or you will be punished. Is that clear?" "Yes." "Good. Here are the rules: One, I own you, as you know. I will fuck you when I want to fuck you. I will make you come when I want to make you come. I will hurt you when I want to hurt you. Two, you only speak when I ask you a question. You will neither beg me for anything nor protest anything I do to you. Three, you way not masturbate. If I find semen anywhere in this room, I will punish you. Four, you will never, ever try to escape. You cannot get out; you will be severely punished for any attempt. Five, if you violate these rules or in any way displease me you will be punished. You have, so far, earned the right to sleep on a mattress and use the facilities; you can also walk around a bit and I will keep your light on during the day. If you misbehave, you will lose all these privileges. I can shorten you chain to less than a foot, or I can chain you spread- eagled to these four rings on the floor. I can keep you light off all day and night. If you really misbehave, I will put you in the hole." I wheeled the bed aside. Underneath, in the floor, was a grate about twelve by eighteen inches. It covered a rough- hewn pit about nine feet deep. "I can put you down there, shackle your arms to above you, and fill the hole with water to an inch below your nose. I've left other boys like that for days. I can run a few copper wires attached to a battery down there if you've been especially bad. Do you understand me?" His eyes were filled with fear, but he promptly mouthed "yes." "Good boy." Watching him, chained, naked in his new room, my cock began to stiffen. "Are you hungry?" "Yes." "Good." I walked over to him, I ran my hand across his face, my thumb on his lower lip. "Open" He opened his mouth obediently. I unzipped my jeans and fished my now- hard cock out of my fly. I waved it in front of him before resting the tip of my dick on his lower lip. A drop of my precome squeezed from my slit, ran down the purple head of my cock, and melted on my boy's lip. "How does it taste?" "Sweet. It's sweet." "I'm glad you like it." I rammed the full length of my cock down his throat. His eyes went wide and he gagged on it, he began to tear up. "Shh. Take it, take it. Breathe through your nose, relax. You'll get used to it." He started to suck air through his nose and I began to fuck his face, holding his hair in my fist and slamming his face into my pubic hair again and again. He had no idea how to swallow cock, but the panicked jerking of his gag reflex created a surprisingly pleasant sensation. I pounded him hard; I enjoyed the sight of my cock hammering in and out of his open, drooling mouth. And my boy needed to be broken in, of course. I released his hair and the back of his head slammed up against the wall, again and again. The pain did not seem to bother him, and he had become enormously erect since I started fucking him. He moaned; the vibration sent a thrill through my cock and up and down my spine. I let a moan escape my own lips. I slowed, I didn't want to come too quickly, I wanted this to be a special experience for me and my boy. My boy's hand came up, pressed against the crotch of my jeans, tugged my balls through the denim. I came. Come exploded out of my balls and down into my boy, spurt after spurt blasted in rivers down his throat as I buried my cock to the hilt in him. He was drowning it in; rivulets of my spunk trickling from between his lips. He gagged, coughed, choked around my cock. I pulled out of him, my still- hard cock bathed in my own come. He smiled up at me, opened his mouth, swirled my come around with his tongue, swallowed me. I slapped him as hard as I could across his face. "You fucked up. I didn't tell you do do that. I wanted to make your first fucking long, slow, special. But you, it seems wanted it as fast as possible, like a whore." His face fell. "But I..." "Don't talk! How could you have forgotten the rules already? You know what I have to do now, correct?" He was silent. "What do I have to do? Answer me." "You have to punish me."