If you are under age, or live in an area where reading stories that include sex between males is illegal, or if you're not into this type of story, please leave. This is a fictional story that takes place in a world where everything is safe. In the real world where many things are not, the characters would take precautions. Please respect yourself and others enough to always play safe.
If you have read any of my previous stories you will know that I tend to be a romantic with a bent toward happy endings. This story starts out as a potential romance but is one that takes a wrong turn, or so it seems. And as for the ending, you'll just have to read on, but be forewarned that this is a darker and more sexual story than my usual. The author retains all rights. Comments are appreciated at NJMcMick@aol.com.
Chapter 6
I must have been getting used to having my hole stretched and pounded because I was hardly sore at all Friday morning. I was nearly finished getting dressed for work when I remembered Carlos' admonition about freeballing, so I pulled off my pants and removed my boxers. It felt so odd, hanging free in my slacks, and I was sure it was obvious to anyone who looked. I was glad I wasn't taking the train into the city, having to put up with the jostling crowds. That, combined with the feel of the soft material of my pants would have kept me hard the whole commute. Of course, it was just as bad once I'd parked in a garage near the bank and walked to the office. The thought of only one thin layer of material between my shaved crotch and my coworkers and somebody noticing was a bit of a turn-on. And the more turned on I was, the more likely someone would notice. It was that puzzling mixture of fear and excitement that made me decide to spend as much of the day as possible in my office, seated behind my desk.
Of course Carlos had to check to make sure I was following orders when I met him in the men's room for his mid-morning blowjob. Usually he left as soon as I'd sucked him dry, allowing me to jerk off in the booth, assuming we hadn't been interrupted by then, that is. About once a week the squeaking outer door warned us of impending company and I had to scurry into the stall while he turned toward the urinal, and that was it for our fun. But this time we had plenty of time to finish and he had me stand and unzip my fly. He reached in, pulled out my rock hard woodie and stroked it a few times. He smiled, put it away and gestured toward the door.
"After you, sir."
"Um, I think I'd better wash up a little. Why don't you go on?"
He smirked. "You think I don't know that you beat off as soon as I leave here every day? I can keep an eye on this door while waiting for the elevator and you're always in here quite a while after I leave. But today I'm not giving you a chance to cum, now or later. So get your white ass back to your office."
"But anyone can see how hard I am!"
"And if I let you jerk off you'll probably leave cum drips all over your pants which would look even more incriminating. So I'm doing you a favor by not letting you come."
I turned toward the door, resigned to going out into the office hard, trying to think of something disgusting to turn myself off. As I put my hand on the door, however, Carlos came up behind me, wrapped his arms around me and caressed my package while pressing his still swollen crotch into my butt. My erection was now not only hard as steel but it was starting to drool precum. I knew that I was going to have a big wet spot on my light gray slacks as I walked through the office. And with the tent preceding me, there's no way anyone would believe it was just the last couple drops of piss. I took a deep breath, opened the door and walked away from Carlos.
I tried to conjure up an image of ninety-year old lesbians sixty-nining as I walked through the office, purposely not making eye contact with anyone. I couldn't help but notice a couple of surprised grins as I passed. One buddy snickered and muttered, "Really missing the wife, huh?" I practically threw myself into my chair, rested my elbows on the desk and buried my face in my hands, waiting for my flushed cheeks to return to normal. 'What would that little fucker do next?' I snorted. Little fucker? More like humongous fucker.
I tried to stay as busy as possible the rest of the day to avoid thinking about him. I wasn't entirely successful. I wondered what this costume party we were going to was all about. Knowing Carlos and his attitude toward me, it wouldn't be anything normal. Given the vast difference in our lifestyles I was sure it would be a different kind of crowd than what I was used to. At least I could be confident that I wouldn't know anyone there. He'd try to humiliate me in some way, of that I was sure. A picture of me in a skimpy French maid's outfit kept popping into my mind all afternoon.
I tried to get information out of Carlos on the short ride up to the Village after work, but he just fiddled with the car radio, tuning in a salsa music station and tuning me out. He'd told me to bring a change of clothes along so I took my small overnight bag from the car after finding a place to park and we went up to the apartment to change. Afterward I put the suit back in the car and then we went to Rick's for a drink. So far, so good.
After only one drink he had me pay the tab and then led me to a shop a few blocks away. When I saw all of the leather gear in the window I got butterflies in my stomach.
"Wait here," he muttered just inside the door.
I stood and watched as he went to the counter in the back of the small store. The smell of leather was almost overpowering. A large hairy man in a leather vest and no shirt was behind the counter. Carlos spoke to him and he brought a large black shopping bag out from a back room. Carlos squatted down and went through it, pulling several items out, but I was too far away to be able to see what they were. He took out a smaller bag, looked through it and then stood, nodding his head as the proprietor said something to him. He left the bags on the floor and came toward me holding out his hand.
"Money,' he said as he came to a stop in front of me.
"How much?" I asked as I reached for my wallet.
"Whatever you've got."
I took out all the cash I had, four hundreds, several twenties and some smaller bills, and handed it to him. He turned without a word and went to the back of the store. When he came back toward me he had the bag in one hand and what was left of my money in the other. I put out my hand and he gave me the bag. I glared at him as he shoved the cash in his front pocket.
"What? You're not gonna need it. I'm taking care of everything tonight. It's on me." He smiled.
We stopped at a deli on the way back to the apartment and picked up sandwiches and a six-pack. We ate at the small table in the living room with the shopping bag on the floor just outside the bedroom. Carlos kept up a one sided conversation about the Mets chances of winning their division while my eyes tried to burn a hole in the bag. When we finished our sandwiches Carlos got us each another beer.
"Okay, c'mon. Time for show and tell. I know you're dying to see what we're wearing tonight." He led the way into the bedroom, picking up the bag on the way.
"Well, now that you mention it. What kind of party is this anyway? Some kind of S&M thing, I'm guessing."
"And what do you know about S&M, straight suburban white boy?"
"Not much. In college I saw a porn movie that had a dominatrix in it."
"Well I can guarantee you won't be seein' any of them tonight. This party is at a private club and is strictly male. The theme is masters and slaves. Guess which you are."
Carlos took the small bag out of the large one and set it aside, then started taking leather garments out, spreading them out on the bed. At the top was a black biker's hat, then a harness made up of thick leather straps and chrome rings, then chaps with a snap-on codpiece. Carlos took a pair of black work boots from the closet and set them on the floor under the chaps.
"I tried it all on in the store the other day. I think I'll look appropriately masterful." The pride was so evident in his voice he reminded me of a little kid and I smiled at him in spite of my nervousness about the party.
"What about my costume?" The shopping bag looked empty.
"Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about you." He picked up the small bag and reached inside. He tossed a thick silver ring about two inches in diameter on the bed. "There ya go."
I choked and Carlos laughed.
"Okay, okay, don't have a stroke. There's more to it than that."
He reached down into the large bag and pulled out what looked like a studded black dog collar and threw it on the bed, followed by a leather pouch on a strap of some kind. He dumped a couple of silver chains out of the small bag and that was it.
"I think you'll make a very hot slave."
"But there's nothing there! I can't go out with nothing on."
"Relax, you'll be wearing your jeans. I don't want you to be arrested before we even get to the party. This stuff is mostly for the contest."
"Contest?"
"Yeah, they're giving a prize for best master and slave. Not that I think two amateurs like us will win, but we're gonna be pretty hot anyway."
Masters and slaves? Is that what my life was turning into? Sure, Carlos had been calling all the shots since I fucked up his promotion, but that didn't make me a slave. I was putting up with his abuse because I felt guilty, wanted to make it up to him and really wanted to have sex with him. And cute little Carlos wasn't my idea of a domineering S&M master. He was part bully and part kid with a new toy, getting even with me and taking advantage of my guilt feelings. But going to a party like this...
I picked up the pouch and strap and turned it every which way.
"It's sort of a leather g-string, Ry." I felt a wave of pleasure every time he called me that. Most of the time he used his sarcastic 'sir' when addressing me, sometimes 'boy' if he was feeling domineering. But Ry was what he had been calling me when things were good between us, and he was using that more and more lately. "Y'see, the pouch is for your family jewels and the strap wraps around your waist and snaps at the back."
"But there's nothing running up the back from the pouch to the strap. What's gonna hold me in?"
"There's a little elastic around the back of the pouch that'll not only keep your junk from fallin' out, it'll push it all forward, so between that and the cock ring you'll look like you're packin' major meat in your jeans when we walk down the street. Not that what you've got isn't respectable enough, but we want to be as hot as possible for the contest."
"What about these chains? Where do they go?" I picked up a chain that I would consider to be quite heavy for a neck chain. It was about a foot long and had another chain about the same length attached to the middle of it.
"That one clips onto your nipple rings and the other one onto the cock ring. It's a decorative way to keep you all connected, but we'll have to be careful. Maybe we'll only put them on for the contest. It could be too tempting for guys at the party to pull on them, and your nipples aren't really healed yet."
It was nice to hear him having some consideration for my well-being, but I couldn't shake the suspicion that it had more to do with a chest and abdomen covered with blood knocking us out of the contest.
I picked up Carlos' hat. "Don't I get one of these?"
"You're lucky you've got your hair. I'm sure most of the other slaves will have shaved heads, or at least buzz cuts. Jose and I have been talking about that and while I think some guys in your position at the bank could get away with a shaved head, you couldn't carry it off."
I was relieved to hear that.
"I don't wear any kind of top? I think a vest like that guy in the store had would look good on me." I didn't really think that, but I was hoping to cover up a little more.
"A vest would look good on me, but I think the harness is better. Gotta show off as much skin as possible, right? And my slave has to wear less than me, so nothing on top for you. Enough questions now. I didn't have to answer any of them but I'm feeling generous." He glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand. "The party doesn't start until eleven, so we have a couple hours before we have to get ready. I suggest a nap. We both had a long day and it's going to be a late night."
Carlos had been so pleasant and reassuring all evening but I was still apprehensive about the party. As much as I wanted to lie down with him, I was sure I'd never be able to sleep, especially since he was probably thinking of having me sleep on the floor or the living room couch. He surprised me by offering the bed.
"I want you to get some rest for tonight. But don't be getting all lovey and cuddly. Stay on your side and sleep."
Carlos stripped down to his boxers and got into bed. I stripped down to my lack of boxers and lay down naked on the other side. Even though there was over a foot of space between us, it was a good feeling just being in bed with him. I fell asleep in no time.
"Well, isn't this just too fuckin' adorable?" I opened one eye and saw Jose standing in the semi-darkness. "You guys are never gonna win the contest acting like that."
Through my sleepy stupor I realized that I was lying on my left side and Carlos was tight behind me, spooning me, his arm around my chest. Through his boxers, his enormous erection was pressing into the crack of my ass. He rolled away from me, stretched and got off the bed.
"Just wait until we get there, amigo. We're gonna be so hot!"
The next hour was taken up by the three of us getting ready. Carlos quickly shaved me again from the neck down, making sure there was no stubble. When he suggested an enema, the look of alarm on my face was evident.
"No, don't worry, Ry, it's not a sex party, not tonight anyway. Nobody's gonna be fuckin' ya. I just like the idea that you're gonna be totally clean, inside and out."
Getting dressed was a challenge. Watching Carlos get his outfit ready made me hard, which made it impossible to get my first item, the cock ring, on. I kept struggling with it but things only got worse. Finally, Carlos brought some ice cubes from the kitchen and held them against my balls. That worked and I went down enough to squeeze everything through the ring. Jose's outfit wasn't much, just a leather vest, no shirt, jeans and boots. But then, he wasn't entering the contest. He kept touching me as I tried to get dressed, slapping my butt, teasing my hole with a finger, tugging on my balls. Carlos surprised me by hooking the chains up to my nipple rings and cock ring.
"I thought these were just for the contest."
"Oh, they are. I'll take the chains off when we get to the club, but since you're wearing your jeans on the street I thought you needed a little something to draw attention to you and embarrass you on the way there."
Carlos had to ice my balls again to get my erection down to the point where I could get it into the pouch. I was about to put on my jeans when Jose spoke up.
"Aren't you forgetting something, bro?"
I turned to him and he was looking at Carlos, holding a black butt plug in his hand. Carlos rolled his eyes.
"Shit, you're right! Where is my head? Bend over, Ry."
"Oh c'mon, Carlos. You can't expect me to have that up my ass all night. It'll be uncomfortable and will drive me crazy."
"You'll get used to it in no time. And it's so much smaller than my dick your greedy hole probably won't even feel it."
He was right about the size. It was maybe five inches long and nearly two across at the widest point. I gave a resigned sigh and bent over. He lubed it up and slowly twisted it into me. I felt it stretch me more and more until it popped into place, my hole closing up around the base. After he got it positioned the way he wanted it he had me turn my back to him and Jose and stand with my feet about a foot apart.
"Great, you can't even tell it's there. It doesn't interfere with the smooth lines of your beautiful muscular butt. I'll have to make sure you bend over and show the judges and audience during the contest, though."
He finally allowed me to put on my jeans and I was done. I didn't have boots but Carlos said my sneakers with no socks were okay.
Carlos took a silver cock ring just like mine although bigger in diameter from a drawer in the nightstand and somehow managed to get his equipment through it. Then he put on his jeans, followed by the chaps, leaving the codpiece off so his huge denim bulge was neatly framed in black leather. He took a small gym bag from the closet and put the codpiece in it.
"Okay now, just a little training session before we leave."
"Training? What do you mean?"
"First, you have to understand the rules for tonight. Then, I have to teach you a few commands."
I groaned. This was just getting worse and worse. "Rules? Commands?"
"Take it easy. The rules are pretty simple. First, you can't speak at all, to anyone, unless I ask you a question or give you permission to speak. You act subservient all night. I don't mean you have to stare at the floor the whole time, but no eye contact with your superiors. Finally, and most important, you obey me. Anything and everything I tell you to do, you do without question or hesitation. Remember, I'm the master and you're the slave. That's what tonight is all about."
"What kind of stuff are you going to tell me to do?" Every time I started to calm down he said something to get me worked up again.
"I have no idea and it doesn't matter." His voice softened for a few seconds. "Don't worry, Ry, I'm not gonna tell you to suck anyone's dick, but if I did I'd expect you to do it. The important thing is that you obey. That's the point of the commands. In the contest we're going to have to strike some poses for the crowd. You know, hot, erotic positions that are in keeping with the BDSM theme. I figure it'll come across good if I can give you one-word commands and you just snap into position."
I wasn't at all enthusiastic about that but it turned out that for once his ideas were pretty tame. My positions were things like kneeling in front of him with my head down and hands behind my back, bent over kissing his boot, kneeling behind him kissing his butt, or touching my lips or the tip of my tongue to his bulging crotch. It was quite subservient but not too humiliating.
Just as we were about to leave he reached into the gym bag, pulled out a dog leash and clipped it onto a ring on my collar. I groaned.
"You've got to be kidding!"
"Fuck, boy! How many times do I have to tell you not to speak back or question me? You'd better get into your role right now or you're gonna regret it when we get back tonight."
Carlos sounded genuinely angry so I meekly nodded and left my head hanging. He handed me the gym bag, gave the leash a jerk and we left. I was mortified as we started down the sidewalk, but apparently a trio like us was not that much of an oddity in that neighborhood. Many people barely noticed us, or at least pretended not to. And the ones that did stare were amused, not horrified. I tried to imagine the reaction if the three of us were to walk into the 7-Eleven down the road from my house dressed up like this.
Carlos finally stopped and opened an unmarked door between an antique shop and a used bookstore. He led us up a long flight of stairs and at the top was a mean looking black dude sitting on a stool. He was probably 250 pounds of muscle and had heavy chains draped around his naked upper torso. He was wearing skintight black leather pants and boots. A sign next to him just said Admission $20. Carlos pulled my money out of his pocket and handed the guy three twenties.
"Where do we enter the contest?"
The black guy looked us over from head to foot then nodded toward the door opposite him. "Through the door to your right."
Carlos led the way, giving the leash a sharp tug. We went through the doorway into an enormous room. There were two pool tables right in front of us and a long bar running down each of the side walls. At the back of the room was a low stage. To our right was a table and another guy in leather sitting there. Carlos handed the leash to Jose, approached the table, talked for a minute and then turned to me.
"Heel!" he ordered. I immediately stood about a foot behind him and just to the right, hung my head and clasped my hands behind my back. By rolling my eyes up as far as I could I could make out Carlos filling in what looked like a multi-page formal application. When he handed the application in along with a fifty-dollar entry fee, I wondered if there was an ATM in the club. The way he was running through my money we might need one.
"You're number 4. Dressing room is behind me," the guy at the table said, pointing to a door. Although I hadn't been allowed to look at him much, I'd seen that he had only given me a quick up and down glance of appraisal and then I didn't exist as far as he was concerned.
"Come, boy," Carlos ordered. Jose handed the leash back to Carlos and headed for the bar. I kept my eyes down and followed Carlos. The room we went into was about twenty feet square with metal shelves along one wall and a couple of locker room type benches in the middle. I noticed a couple of knapsacks and bags like the one I was holding on the shelves. There were two guys in the room. One was a few years older and quite a bit bigger than me. The other was a little smaller and a couple of years younger. The larger one, obviously the master, was wearing a vest and jeans. The slave was wearing only a jockstrap. Both men had a number of tattoos all over their bodies. I didn't find either of them at all attractive, but then no one asked me. Carlos nodded to the master, then turned to me and held out his hand.
"Sneakers, boy!" I gave him a questioning look. I knew there was nothing else in the bag for me to put on so I didn't know what he was doing. He just glared at me and looked like he was going to explode, so I quickly sat down and took them off. The other two guys left the room while I was doing that.
"No hesitations, Ry!" he hissed at me. "If it makes you feel any better, all of the slaves will be barefoot. I'm told they scrubbed the floors today and are asking everyone to be careful not to step on toes, although I'm sure some may do it on purpose."
I put my sneakers in the bag and looked up at Carlos. "Okay, now the jeans."
I started to balk again but he glowered at me, so I quickly stripped them off, folded them and put them in the bag as well. I was surprised when he removed his chaps and boots and then his jeans also. He put the chaps and boots back on as I folded his jeans and packed them away. He snapped the codpiece into place, hiding his beautiful tool.
"The jeans were just to keep your white ass from being arrested on the street. That bubble butt and my black beauty can only help us in here." He carefully removed the chains from my rings and put them in the bag, then put the bag in a shelf. "Okay, show time. Make me proud, boy."
Carlos left the room and I followed, not waiting for the leash to pull me, although being nearly naked I would have preferred staying in the dressing room. Even though the place had opened nearly an hour earlier there wasn't a very big crowd yet. Carlos had said the contest started at one, so I assumed the place would fill up soon. Jose was standing at the bar and we joined him. Carlos bought two Heinekens and gave one to Jose. The two tapped bottles and sipped. I knew I wasn't supposed to talk but I wondered whether I was going to get a drink. I waited while they chatted and finally got up the nerve to tap Carlos lightly on the arm. He gave me an annoyed look. I made a motion like tipping a bottle toward my mouth and raised my eyebrows. He shook his head.
"Boys don't drink with their masters as if they're buddies. Maybe I'll let you have something after the contest." He had a glint in his eye as he added "If you're really thirsty before then, maybe I'll share my beer with you. Recycled and warm, of course."
He turned back to Jose. Just then a tall slim blond man in a black t-shirt and leather pants approached Carlos.
"Are you number four? Carlos?"
"Yes, I am. What's up?"
The guy held out his hand. "I'm Spike, the contest photographer." In spite of the leather, I didn't think the name fit him. A Spike ought to have a beefy build and an ugly face with a broken nose. This guy was actually quite attractive. "I noticed you didn't sign the release for the pictures."
"Uh, yeah, the guy at the table said that was optional. It looked like it was a little too complete a release to me."
"Yeah, it's very complete. This isn't a hobby for me, it's my business. The pictures I take tonight are my property to do with as I please if you sign it."
"I realize that they're yours and I wouldn't mind them being posted privately, like here in the club or in your portfolio if you have one, but my boy and I both have careers that would suffer if our nearly naked pictures appeared on a billboard in Times Square or on the Internet."
"I can understand that, but you're saying you'd be willing to sign a limited release allowing private showings of the photos?"
"Sure, just nothing public."
"Okay, come with me." He led the three of us back to the registration table and pulled out a couple of forms. "You should have been offered the limited release when you didn't sign the first one. I'll send you copies of the complete release in case you change your mind later on."
I gave Carlos a questioning look but he just shook his head. He signed the form after quickly reading through it. I carefully read my copy to make sure it said exactly what had been talked about before signing. I wasn't crazy about the idea of pictures of me in this get-up being shown anywhere, but as long as it was limited to places like this no one I knew would ever see them.
As we headed back to the bar he spoke to me. "Relax, Ry. Anything they send will be to my address. That's what's on the application. Hell, I don't even know your home address so how could I give it to them?"
I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe I was justified, given the way Carlos was keeping me off balance, but my paranoia was getting out of control.
The crowd grew steadily over the next hour and by one o'clock the place was packed. It was my first time ever in a gay bar of any kind, so at first I was entranced by all of the guys in their gear, but after a while they all started to look the same. The same basic uniform, same buzzed haircuts or shaved heads, even the tattoos all blended together. Now and then I saw a real hottie, some guy who was either cute as hell or sexy as all get-out, but most of the guys did nothing for me. Maybe I was just nervous, waiting for the contest to begin. I sure as hell was thirsty but wasn't about to ask Carlos for a drink. While he seemed to act cocksure and in charge, chatting with Jose and various other guys, I could tell he was nervous too. He may have been more used to this scene, but this was apparently his first time as a master.
At last the music briefly softened and a voice boomed out telling the contestants to line up to the right of the stage. Carlos lightly jerked my leash and led me to the other end of the room. In spite of the dungeony atmosphere it kind of reminded me of grade school. A middle-aged man in leather cap, no shirt but straps around his biceps, and leather pants came fussing down the line with a clipboard, checking off each pair, making sure we were lined up in the right order. I decided he was probably an English teacher in real life.
The emcee, a female impersonator wearing a black leather outfit right out of Rocky Horror and brandishing a long whip, stepped up on the stage and started the show. Each pair (in was hard to think of them as couples) were called up on the stage, went through a series of poses which Spike photographed, and then went down the steps on the other side of the stage. I noticed that only the masters were introduced by name. Carlos and I were up on the stage before I knew it, and somehow I managed to turn off my brain, forget about the huge crowd gawking, whistling, cheering and jeering at me, and just instinctively follow Carlos' one-word commands. I focused on him and blocked out the audience, barely even noticing the flashes as Spike did his job.
At the foot of the steps on the other side of the stage was a completely naked, totally shaved slave boy holding a tray of shot glasses. Carlos took a shot as he stepped down, tossed it back and put the glass back on the tray. He nodded to me.
"Good job, boy. Have a drink. You deserve it." I gratefully took a glass and downed the tequila.
Most of the other contestants headed back toward the dressing room after their turn but Carlos wanted to watch the competition, so we stood off to one side of the stage as the others were introduced. It was only then that I noticed a table in front of the stage with three judges seated at it. They stared at each pair as they posed, then jotted notes on pads of paper in front of them. I thought most of the contestants looked pretty much the same, the masters overly large and hairy, the slaves shaved and cowering, the masters tattooed, the slaves pierced, with the exception of one pair. The master was about 40, large and muscular, with a face that was pure evil. He wasn't even looking in my direction, but he scared me. His slave, on the other hand, was stunningly beautiful. He looked to be in his late 20s, was slightly smaller than me and had a perfectly cut slim smooth muscular body. He was one of the few slaves other than me with hair on his head, pale blond and about an inch long. His eyes were the same deep blue as mine. He had no piercings, no tattoos and was wearing only a small leather g-string. He looked like an angel. Small black Carlos turned me on like no man ever had, but this blond boy came a close second.
There were 15 pairs of masters and slaves altogether but after the twelfth Carlos tugged on my leash.
"Come, boy! Time to get ready for the next part."
'Next part?' Carlos saw the question in my eyes and smiled.
"Don't worry, it's the same basic thing with minor costume modifications. When we get to the dressing room take off your pouch so I can attach your chains."
That wasn't much of a change in costume but I knew that was the only thing else we'd brought with us. I was expecting the dressing room to be crowded but apparently most of the pairs had already come and gone. The first thing I saw when we went into the room was the beautiful blond, naked with his back to us. His rounded ass was even hotter than it had looked on stage. I wanted to throw myself into it face first.
The evil master introduced himself to Carlos and the two of them took shot glasses from a tray being held by another slave and toasted each other while blondie turned toward us and stood in silence, looking down somewhat. I didn't look up but was still able to check out his body as I got our bag off the shelf and took off my pouch. The blond boy had shaved pubes and a nice sized flaccid penis hanging over what appeared to be the only imperfection in his physical beauty, a very small ball sac. There was a lull in the conversation and I sensed the evil master's eyes boring into me. I looked up, deliberately stopping my eyes at his chin. I knew I wasn't supposed to look in his eyes and I really didn't want to anyway.
"So boy," he sneered, "you like my gelding?"
I gasped and looked back at the blond's crotch, realizing why the sac looked so small. Carlos stepped forward and curiously fondled the empty sac with his fingertips.
"I almost never let him cum so he didn't have any use for them anyway." The master smiled an evil smile. "But they're not really gone. I have them in a jar at home."
I looked back at the master in horror.
"Oh, don't look at me that way! He wanted it as much as I did, practically begged me to have them cut off."
I turned to the boy and looked him in the eyes. He just gave a beautiful, though I thought sad, smile and nodded. The master came over to me and grabbed my balls in his hand, squeezing them just enough to hurt.
"Yours are a bit larger. Would probably need a bigger jar." He turned to Carlos. "Let me know if you need the name and number of a good de-baller." He let go of my nads as he looked at his slave.
"Come, boy!" He turned and left the room, chuckling at his ironic command. The blond beauty rushed after him.
Carlos came over to me and whispered in my ear, "Don't worry, Ry, I like your balls right where they are." He wrapped a hand around them and played with them. "Besides, if they were in a jar it would be no fun to do this." With one fast move he yanked down and squeezed, sending pain shooting through my abdomen, causing me to double over. As the pain slowly subsided, I stood up to find him holding two shot glasses in front of me.
"I think you need these, boy."
I drank down both shots and then Carlos attached the chains to my rings. When I started to put the pouch back on he grabbed it and put it in the bag.
"You won't need that this time. You're fine just the way you are."
"No way! I can't go out there like this. I'm naked!"
"You're gonna be punished later for all of these outbursts, boy. But for now, if it makes you feel any better ..." He grabbed his codpiece and pulled, unsnapping it and freeing his black boa. He grinned at me. "We'll both be hanging out. Now let's go out there and make them drool."
We helped ourselves to yet another shot each before we left the room. In spite of everything, I was starting to relax. Four shots of tequila in less than half an hour might have had something to do with that.
The second round of poses was very similar to the first, although there was much more nudity on everyone's part. Due to that, Carlos changed our poses just a bit. Instead of pressing my lips to his codpiece, I opened my mouth wide, stuck out my tongue and he laid his mushroom head on it. And instead of just kissing his ass, I ran my tongue up his crack. For the final pose he had me bend over with my butt to the audience and use my hands to spread my cheeks, exposing the black base of the butt plug. He then surprised me by grabbing it, twisting it a bit and then pulling it out of me. It had been in so long, stretching me just slightly, that I was used to it, but the wide part made me wince as he withdrew it. Then he slapped my butt and told me to stand and face the audience. I figured our part of the show was over and was considering making a facetious bow, but Carlos had one final degradation for me. He had me open my mouth, inserted the entire plug, then jerked my chain and led me off the stage as I struggled to control my gag reflex, tears running down my cheeks.
Jose was waiting for us just offstage.
"Great finish, amigo! Too bad you gave him that enema earlier, though."
I glared at Jose but Carlos just ignored the remark. "C'mon, boy." He tugged on my leash and pulled me toward the dressing room, the butt plug still filling my mouth. When we got there he took it out and tossed it in the bag, then took off my chains as well.
"That's it for the contest, though it will probably be an hour before we know the results. Let's go watch the rest of it and mingle."
I cleared my throat and held my arms out. "Uh, I'm naked here."
"So? Everyone's already seen it all. What good would covering up now do? Besides, you're hotter than just about anyone in this place. I want to show off my boy. C'mon, I'll buy you a beer."
The contest didn't technically end until the winners were announced, so Carlos and I had to keep up our act for a while. It was a lot easier for him. He could speak to anyone and do whatever he wanted. He paid no attention to me at all except now and then when he tugged on the leash a bit. He did allow me to have a beer. At one point he and Jose started to have some kind of disagreement and Carlos handed my leash to a bystander and the two of them moved off several feet and exchanged heated words. He came back but Jose wandered off. Carlos took back the leash, had me leave my beer on the bar and led me toward the stage at the other end of the room. The posing had finished and the judges appeared to be tabulating their scores. Carlos stopped in a small open space within sight of the judges' table and pulled on my leash so I was standing facing him.
"Kneel!" He ordered.
Without hesitation I knelt down and clasped my hands behind my back.
"Suck!" He thrust his hips forward slightly. Considering the theme to the night, things had been going fairly well and I didn't want to cross him at that point, but I couldn't imagine that he was serious. I looked up, my eyes wide and saw from his eyes that he was very serious, so I took a deep breath, opened my mouth and sucked his head in. Between the atmosphere, the nudity and the cock ring he hadn't been completely soft all evening but as soon as I began to suck his dick grew to its full 9 inches. I wasn't sure I'd be able to take it all at this angle but after bumping the back of my throat a couple of times I felt him pop through and slide in. He then put a hand on either side of the top of my head and began to pump into me, fucking my throat. The excitement of the evening brought him to the edge quickly and in no time he froze and I was treated to his hot jizz shooting down my throat. About halfway though his orgasm he pulled partially out and finished up my filling my mouth. He sighed, withdrew from my mouth and patted me on the head.
"Good boy, I needed that. You can swallow now."
I let the rest of his load slide down my throat and waited until he gave me permission to get up from my knees. He led me back to the bar and bought us each another beer.
"I figured it wouldn't hurt to give the judges one last show."
They announced the results of the contest about twenty minutes later. A hot but fairly stereotypical master-slave pair won. The evil master and his gelding came in second and Carlos and I placed third. I don't know if our little encore helped or not, but it obviously didn't hurt. I felt an odd sense of pride and Carlos seemed pleased as he led me up to the stage to take our bows and get our hundred-dollar prize money. We went to the dressing room, put on our jeans and left. Jose was nowhere to be seen and that was fine with me. It was nearly four in the morning, I was exhausted and I just wanted to sleep, although that was really up to Carlos. After all, he was my master.
To be continued.