Date: Wed, 04 Apr 2001 13:16:50 From: Ganymede Subject: Pandora's Box X Pandora's Box X, by Ganymede and Christopher. WARNING: This story contains a graphic description of sexual acts between a man and a MINOR boy. We do not condone child abuse, how- ever boy-love as described in this story is an entirely different matter. If the subject of man/boy sex offends you, if this material is illegal in your place of residence, or if you are under the legal age for such material, do not read further! You have been warned! Read at your own risk! The story is copyrighted under the pseudonym, Ganymede. A copy has been placed in the Nifty archives for your enjoyment. Feel free to post it to appropriate newsgroups or send it to your friends. The story cannot be used to derive monetary gain. It cannot be placed in archives that require payment for access, or printed and distributed in any form that requires payment. THE NIFTY ARCHIVE: The Nifty Archive needs your support. If you enjoy reading this story, please remember that it is available only because of the Nifty Archive. Instructions are provided on the Nifty home page for how to provide support. FINAL WARNING: If you are under the age of 18, if this material is illegal in your place of residence, or if man-boy relationships aren't your thing, then exit now and save yourself from a life of sin! Pandora's Box X: Sunday Early Afternoon. There was nothing either of us could or wanted to say after that. My mother had accepted so easily what I was so scared of. It was almost as if she had expected to have the conversation with me, that she needed to let me know that there was no reason for me to feel bad. Perhaps being around Bryce and Jeffrey in the salon had convinced her that being gay was not so terrible that death was a viable option. My mother and I rushed out of the room, down the hall way and into the grand marble-floored foyer. I caught a quick glimpse of Joel walking out of the kitchen with a large bag of potato chips. I waved to him, then called out good bye as I was dragged by the arm towards the front door. I don't think he heard or saw me. There was a long white limousine waiting in the circular drive. The chauffeur was sitting down on the low wall that encircled the splashing fountain that I had seen the first day I arrived. I imme- diately recognized Keith Richards and he returned my wave as he quickly came to his feet. All I carried was the bag over my shoul- der. I was so excited I nearly peed in my underpants as Keith opened the door. Steven was sitting inside. He was dressed in a black tuxedo minus the jacket which was hanging next to the door. He looked so handsome, reclining in the vast back seat. In front of him was a bottle of champagne, two crystal goblets, and a plate with some of the delicacies that Mrs. Beaton was famous for. My mother poked her head through the open door as I took a seat next to Steven. "Now Chrissie," she said firmly. "I promised myself I wasn't going to cry when I said good bye, so I won't." She sniffed and smeared her hand through the tears that were forming at the corners of her eyes. She took a deep, farewell breath. Both of us were ready to burst into tears. If Steven was not sitting patiently beside me I would have bawled my eyes out. "I want you to behave yourself, Chrissie. I don't want to hear any bad reports from your Uncle Steven. I want you to do everything he says!" "Yes, Mom," I said resignedly. When she was like this it was embarrassing, and the only thing I could do was to be quiet and let her finish because it would be over sooner that way. At least Steven appeared to understand. "I'll take good care of him, Kate," he intoned. "You don't need to worry." "Yes, I know you will, Steven. I'm sure he'll be very obedient. He can be when he wants to be. But sometimes,..." She sniffed again. "Just look at me! Now Chrissie, this will be just like a practice to make sure, okay?" "Huh?" I mumbled. "Practice for what?" "For later on of course, Sweetie. You really must be leaving. Just remember that while you're with Steven you'll be his boy instead of mine, and you have to make him as proud of you as possi- ble." "Yes, Mom," I whined. I was only seconds from crying myself. "Good-bye, Mom." "I'll be waiting right here for when you get back tomorrow, Sweetie. I love you. And do take lots of photos. Oh! Oh dear! We left the camera in the room. Should I run back and get it?" "That's okay, Kate. There'll be lots of photos taken of Chrissie, including a video," Steven explained whimsically. "You might even see him on television when we arrive." His tone was mocking, but there was something in his expression that startled me. I felt very nervous sitting there beside him. I tried to smile at my mother to reassure that I was going to be all right, yet I could not. Inside, I knew I would be changed when I came back. I would be Steven's boy then. What made me think that? My mother pushed the door closed. I could still hear her voice through the deeply tinted glass windows. She was crying, saying good-bye, walking beside the car as it rolled slowly around the fountain. The car accelerated down the drive. I did not look back to see her waving. I would have cried if I did. She would wave until we were no longer in sight. I wanted to cry, but I didn't. I was with Steven. I settled back next to him, vaguely aware of my surroundings. This was a huge step for me. I clasped my hands anxiously, trying to think of something intelligent to say. I looked from side to side. On the adjacent seat was a small pure-white tuxedo. It was spread out, with the trouser legs perfectly straight, the satin-trimmed jacket arranged with the arms by the sides, a white cotton shirt with fancy ruffles was next to it along with a small shiny satin bowtie and a cumberbund with ruffles to match the shirt. I grinned and turned to look up at Steven. "Wow!" was all that I could manage to say. Steven smiled generously. "I'll take that as a thank you." "Thank you!" I blurted out. "Thank you so much, for this, and for taking me, and for everything." "Your mother's going to miss her boy," Steven said softly. "Yeah, I guess." I tried not to sound miserable. Steven chuckled. "We have a long way to go I thought I should get you something to pass the time. I have something for you to play with. Now, where did I put it?" he added as he searched the seat beside him. "Ah, here it is. You don't have a Gameboy do you?" I shook my head. Paul had a Gameboy, in lime, so I knew how to play. Steven held out a purple one. It was my very favorite color. However, there was more. There was also a matching plastic box. he flipped back the lid with his thumb, revealing the contents. It had twelve slots for Gameboy cards and they were all full. "For me?" I asked. I could barely get the words out. Was it really a gift? It couldn't be. He was simply lending it to me for the trip. "Yes, of course it's for you," Steven laughed. "I can give you a present can't I?" "Yeah, I guess." I grinned at him. "Thank you." "I'm sure I heard somewhere that you were a hotshot with computer games," Steven teased. "Now where did I hear that? Ah yes, you were excellent on the V-R game. I was told that you downed Joel's fighter in record time." "Yeah, but I wasn't so hot with the landing," I giggled. Steven laughed. "You crashed and burned. But the way it was told to me you were coming in for a perfect landing at the time." "I got distracted," I said, fiddling with the keys on the Gameboy. Was it really mine? Gameboys were expensive, and the cards even more so. Unless I was wrong, all of the cards he had given me cost twenty-five dollars each. Steven had spent nearly four hundred dollars on me. Why? I was so happy that I stared at my new Gameboy almost afraid to swtich it on in case it was just a dream. We passed by the iron gate that I had entered only two days earlier. It seemed like a life time had gone by, that I was not the same little boy who had passed that way, that I had changed in some undefined but miraculous way. I sat quietly, thinking about how I had changed. Had I really changed? I thought of the butterfly again, of it spreading its wings and taking flight for the first time. That was me, now. I was flying and Steven was right beside me to help if I got into trouble. All I had to do was to behave myself and obey him. I felt his hand on my knee before we reached the freeway. We had not spoken for a long while and I missed the deep sound of his voice When he spoke I felt happy and alive, and reassured. I wanted him to speak, but I did not know what to say to him. I wanted him to keep his hand on my knee. "Do you know what love is, Chrissie?" "Huh?" I sat up, recognizing that for the second time he had called me `Chrissie', just like my mother did. Strangely, I didn't mind. I liked how he said it. It sounded just right. "Do you know what love is?" he repeated. "It's when two people like each other a lot," I answered uncer- tainly. "Yes it is. Love is a very special thing, Chrissie. You can know someone for a long time, and like them, but you don't love them." He nodded thoughtfully. "And then someone comes along who you've known for only a short time, a few days, maybe just for a few hours, and you realize that it's very different." I glanced up at him, trying to decide if he was talking about the same thing that I was thinking. I felt anxious. I wanted to tell him that I understood, but words failed me. His hand was firm and strong as it, cupped my knee. His thumb stroked the side of my leg. There was nothing that I needed to say. I could tell he knew what I was thinking. I heard the distant roar of the car's engine, the sound of speed as the limousine accelerated onto the freeway. I glimpsed the 'I-10 Los Angeles' sign and the reality finally sank in that I was going to the Academy Awards with him. "I've known a great many boys over the years," he continued softly. "But I've only really loved a few of them. Being in love with someone means a lot to me." I nodded slightly. I could tell from his voice that I was one of the few people who he loved. I heard the same sound in my mother's voice. I had grown up hearing her love for me every time she spoke. Yet, hearing Steven's love for me was not the same. It gave me an unfamiliar thrill, deep down. "Uh huh," I murmured. His thumb pressed gently into my leg. "Do you understand what I'm saying to you, Christopher?" "You're saying you love me," I whispered awkwardly. "Does that bother you?" "No. Not really. I think I'm okay with it." "Really?" Steven ascertained wit audible curiosity. "Yeah. I know men love boys sometimes," I answered nervously. Steven chuckled. "You think that's strange, don't you?" "No, not particularly," I said, suddenly becoming bolder. "And it doesn't bother you?" "No. Of course not," I added flippantly. "Why do you say that?" "Hm,... Because,... " I giggled. Even to my ears, my voice sounded teasing. `You're a flirtatious little boy, aren't you?" "Huh? What's that?" "Flirtatious? In means you like to tease. Don't look so cocky. I'd much rather you were coy." "Huh?" I giggled again. Steven's hand had moved slightly higher so that it was no longer touching my knee. His hand was on my lower thigh, his fingers pressing between the big tendons on the underneath. He laughed. "Your Aunt Sue was absolutely right." "About what?" I asked nervously. "About you." He studied my face. "You don't understand yet, do you Chrissie?" "Understand what?" He smiled reassuringly. "Why don't you tell me how you feel?" he suggested. "About,... about you?" I gulped. Why did I ask that? Steven nodded. His hand moved again, further along my thigh. I felt the warmth in my crotch, the gradual increase in firmness that could mean only one thing. My penis was getting stiff. I shifted uncomfortably. Surely, he had to realize what he was doing to me. I glanced out the window and saw an exit ramp flash past. "Yes, Chrissie." I liked him calling me 'Chrissie'. I swallowed. What would he think if I told him how I felt about him? Especially after my phone conversation with Bryce. Would he be shocked if I told him I wanted his penis in my mouth, or worse, in my bottom? "I like you a lot," I began uncertainly. He took that in and waited for more. "You make me feel funny inside." "How?" I shrugged. Sooner or later I would have to tell him. "First you put butterflies in my tummy," I giggled. "And now I'm turning into one." "I do what?" I continued to giggle. When I finally managed to stop, he was regarding me with a serious expression. "What's wrong?" I asked fretfully. "I asked you a question and I expect you to answer," Steven said agitatedly. "I'm sorry," I demurred. "That's better. Now, how do you feel about me? And no nonsense about butterflies." "I'm sorry," I repeated modestly. I sat up primly. His hand was getting awfully close to what was now a very hard little lump. I wondered whether he was going to touch it. He had touched me there in the swimming pool, grabbed it and held it tightly in his hand. I could still remember the bolt of electricity that had surged through me for an instant before the pain started. "What you said about me, I think I feel the same way," I began. I shook my head. It wasn't what I wanted to say. "I can't stop thinking about you," I said honestly. "It's all I do. I even dream about you at night." Steven smiled and nodded wisely. "It frightens you, doesn't it, Chrissie?" "Uh huh. Sometimes. Mostly it makes me feel good. My friend Bryce, in Cambridge, he said I had a bad case of puppy love," I added knowledgeably. "You think that he's right?" Steven asked. "Yeah," I murmured. "It's true." I looked up again, meeting Steven's eyes. His hand was only a few inches away from the compact bulge in my slacks. The closer his huge hand came, the smaller the bulge seemed. I could feel my penis standing up straight, trying to force a way through my briefs, through my zipper and into his hand. I trembled, aware that I had been straining as hard as I could to make his hand come closer. I glanced down for a second. Not long, just long enough to see his fingers reaching out. "Do you think it's wrong for us to love each other?" he asked gently. "I do love you, by the way." "Yeah, I know. I love you too." I took a deep breath. "I want to be your boy, Steven," I said awkwardly. "I was wondering when we'd come to that," Steven joked. He turned serious. "Do you know what it means? To be a man's boy?" "Yeah, I think so. Bryce and I talked about it some on the phone." "If you were to become my boy, you'd have obey me, Chrissie," Steven explained. "In everything," he added. "If I tell you to do something, you'd have to do it." "Yeah, I know that." "And that doesn't bother you, Chrissie?" Steven asked cau- tiously. I thought about it. "No, not a lot. I think I'd like to do what you tell me to do." His hand covered my bulge. His warmth flowed into me. Remember- ing what Bryce said about always giving him access, I moved my knees further apart, not daring to look up at him. His fingers squeezed ever so gently, cupping over my excited penis, pressing into the sponginess that was below. I hoped he was not going to do what he did to me in the pool. Then, I hoped he did. "And if I wanted you to have sex with me?" His voice was low, secretive, asking the only question that I was certain I had the answer for. I trembled noticeably. His hand squeezed harder and I stifled a groan. It did not hurt. It was too wonderfully good to hurt. I took a deep slow breath. "Well, Chrissie?" he prompted. "You don't have to answer, but I'd like you to." "Um,... I think I'd like to have sex with you," I added happily. "And you're sure you know what having sex with a man like me would involve?" Steven persisted. I nodded. I knew about how a man's penis, Steven's penis, would go inside my bottom. Maybe just a few inches at first, maybe fur- ther. A few inches would be enough to start, but then I would want more. I would want what Bryce wanted. Deep. I would want him all the way inside me. Why did I want that? He fumbled at my waist, undoing the artificial pearl-shell buttons of my pants. There were two of them at the front and they were difficult to get undone. I tried not to panic. Bryce had asked what I would do if Steven wanted to have sex with me. I tried to breath slowly, take it one step at a time. He wouldn't do that to me, not here in the back of the limousine, would he? "Steven?" I mumbled. "Yes Chrissie. What is it?" I pointed forward, towards the driver. We were separated by eight or ten feet and a smoked-plastic panel. There was still a rear vision mirror. If he looked up, he could see everything in the back of the limousine. "It's okay, Chrissie," Steven purred. His fingers tugged at my zipper, pulling it down slowly. "Keith is very discreet. Like Mrs. Beaton is. She sees all but says nothing. He won't pay us any attention." "What if he sees?" I said nervously. "What if he does?" Steven answered flippantly. "I pay him to keep quiet." He had finished opening my zipper. His hand pushed the front of my slacks apart, exposing my briefs. My penis throbbed relentlessly. It was all I could do to breath. "Is that more comfortable for you, Chrissie?" I risked looking down. His thumb rested against my stiff little penis. I looked up again. I nodded vaguely. "Why don't you take your pants off, Chrissie, and you can be even more comfortable" Steven said. It sounded like a suggestion. I hesitated, worrying about being seen by the driver, by the drivers of passing trucks. "I said take your pants off," Steven said slowly, distinctly. He emphasized each word. It was a command. If I was going to be his boy my role was to obey. I shrank into my seat. My mind wavered, sorting out the choices, knowing there was only one choice I could make, that I wanted to make. Awkwardly, afraid of making him upset, I raised my hips and pushed at my slacks, pushed and tugged until they were at my knees, then at my ankles. I felt the coolness of the air-conditioned air blowing on my bare legs. I wanted to stop there. "Off." `Off' meant all the way off. I had to remove my shoes to do it. Quickly, I sat up. I felt Steven's eyes on me. I felt them moving down my slender legs, taking in my smooth brown legs. I should have been ashamed. Instead, it was all I could do not to tremble with the sheer thrill of it. Had I ever been so excited? With Joel, or in the pool with Steven, my heart was not pounding the way it was now. "Your underpants too, Chrissie." "My underpants?" He reacted immediately, as soon as I dared to defy his author- ity. He would tolerate no challenge. His eyes glared at me. That was all that he had to do. Meekly, my hands moved, almost of their own accord and as if following instinct. He smiled a little. Again, I lifted my hips up, pushing my back against the seat as I lifted the elastic waist band over my squat boy-sized hardness and tugged my briefs down far enough that everything was visible. I did not stop there. I knew better. I kept pulling, then pushing, until they were at my feet. I was so excited by then that the slightest touch on my penis would have produced an immediate orgasm. "That's better," Steven said supportively. "It's not so diffi- cult to do what you're told, is it Chrissie?" "I guess not... Uncle Steven?" Steven looked up sharply. I had done something wrong yet again. "Uncle Steven?" he intoned sarcastically. "Chrissie, I thought you were smarter than that. Now that you're my boy, you'll continue to call me `Steven', but you will call me `Sir' when we're in public, unless I tell you otherwise." I shrank back, rebuked yet loving how he talked. "Sir?" I tried it on for size. "We're not in public, but yes, what is it Chrissie?" "Do you want me to take my top off as well?" I asked timidly. Steven smiled tenderly. "If you want to. It's entirely up to you. I don't want you to get cold, Chrissie," he added with concern. "Perhaps I should have Keith turn down the air-conditioning." "It's okay," I said quickly. Again, I glanced down. My penis was quivering, straining erect, pushing the small bulb partially through the skin at the end. I wanted to be naked for Steven. I wanted him to see all of my body in its suntanned perfection. Hurriedly, I stripped off the white sweater, dropping it with my other clothes in the small pile at my feet. Again, Steven looked me over. I watched his eyes, observing the same look that I had seen thousands of times before. His eyes were full of yearning, something that he hungered for. Me? Why me? Why not me? Why did I want him to look at me, when I resented others doing the same thing? Why didn't I want to think about something else, anything else? His hand dropped back onto my penis and testicles again, com- forting and warm, covering all of my no-longer private parts with only two fingers. His thumb stroked my lower belly, reaching to my navel. I sighed happily. "You're a very beautiful boy, Chrissie," Steven said very softly. "Now, lie back and let me make you feel good. You want me to make you feel good, don't you?" I obeyed, as I would always obey him. I leaned back into the seat where it curved to meet the door. I could hear Bryce's voice in my head. Legs always apart. Give him access. Show him I want him. "Uh huh," I murmured absently. Steven's hand caressed my belly, then slowly slid back onto my penis, fondling the hard little stalk between his fingers and thumb. His fingers gripped, pulling against the skin as it tried to retract over the head. I gasped as my glans popped through. "That's better, isn't it Chrissie. It's a pity you aren't already circumcised," he growled. Lying there, with my penis contained in Steven's hand, I was happy. I closed my eyes, perfectly content for him to do whatever he wanted to do. "You are a beautiful little pussy-boy, aren't you?" he contin- ued as if I wasn't there. I did not hear the menacing tone as he fondled my testicles. His new name for me went almost unnoticed. His hand lifted away, then returned, coming from below. His fingers were spread apart to form a `v' between the second and third fingers. The `v' came between my testicles and my body, separating and making the skin tight. He lifted up slightly, pulling against my scrotum. "Such tiny balls," he said with restrained amusement. "They're so small, just like jelly beans, but they are so important for a boy. Do you know what your balls are for, Chrissie?" I glanced down to observed my testicles being held firmly between his fingers. His thumb was rubbing the stretched skin that covered them. There was no pain even though the skin was so tight that it appeared translucent. "For making babies," I said, emboldened. "Yes, but that's not for you, is it?" Steven laughed strangely. "Not unless you do what Bryce did." "Huh?" "They're also needed so that a boy can grow into a man," Steven continued as if I had said nothing. "But that's not for you either, is it Chrissie? So you see,... " He paused there, pressing his thumb against my testicles and compressing them deliberately against his fingers until I squirmed and tried to pull away. His eyes narrowed and then he smiled, relax- ing his grip and taunting me with the unspoken suggestion that he would let them go shortly. I wanted him to let go. No I didn't. I didn't know what I wanted him to do. "You don't really need them, do you Chrissie. Not now that you're going to be my boy." "Uncle Steven,... " I implored. What was he talking about? He squeezed impassively and I whimpered as I felt a sudden sharp pain there. My testicles were so small that it would not take much effort to crush them. I gasped. I tried not to cry. I had to obey. That was my role. "Please Steven,... please, it hurts." Instantly, he released his grip and I gasped again in relief. I glared at him, wanting to be angry, wanting him to keep squeezing. My testicles stung, but within seconds the pain was already dissi- pating. "I'm sorry, Chrissie," Steven said urgently. "I didn't want to hurt you. You made me." "I made you?" I asked in disbelief. "You called me `Uncle Steven'. Remember, if you're going to be my boy, you're to call me `Steven', not only when we're having sex, but at other times too. Except when we're in public,... " "Then I call you `sir', unless you say otherwise," I mumbled. Steve nodded appreciatively. "Calling me `Steven' is special, Chrissie. It's just between us. You wouldn't even call your father by his first name, would you?" "I don't have a father," I said heatedly. "But if you did? And you do have a father, you know. I mean if you knew who your father was?" I shook my head sullenly. I understood the point he was making. I had to be obedient if I was going to be his boy. I had a lot to learn, but it was fun learning with Steven. I smiled shyly, aware that although my stiffness had vanished and my penis was now quite limp, Steven was still caressing the puckered ski at the end. He touched it lovingly, as if it was the most valuable thing he owned. "We will have to circumcise you," he articulated. He smiled affectionately. "You see, I've never been partial to boys with fore- skins. Would you mind that, Chrissie? If I had a doctor, Doctor Lehr perhaps, cut this silly little piece of skin off? You really don't need it, you know?" I regarded him, not anxious, not curious, not even nervous. If he had to put his mark on me, that was as good as any other way. Besides, most of the boys at school did not have the skin on the end of their penises like I did. I managed a faint smile and I shrugged ambiguously. If I was his boy, he could do whatever he wanted to me. "I do have another special present for my special boy. I was saving it for later," Steven teased. "Would you like it now, Chrissie?" I nodded eagerly. Steven stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Please,... Steven," I added hopefully. "It's very special. It would mean that you are my boy from now on. You'll have to do everything I say," he counseled carefully. "Yes," I said simply. "I want to be your boy. You know I do." I grinned gleefully. This was what I wanted. I wanted nothing more than to be Steven's boy. Steven chuckled. He was as happy as I was. He felt in the pocket of his trousers for a moment. He withdrew his hand slowly, closed like a fist. Then, like a flower unfolding, his fingers lifted away. There in the palm of his hand was a brightly polished gold ring with what appeared to be diamonds all the way around the edge. It was not very wide. It was much bigger than an engagement ring, and prettier. I stared at it in fascination, trying to decide what it was. I fascinated by the minute letters around the edge. There was a diamond and then a letter, making it difficult to read. After a moment, I realized that it said `Steven Anthony Kaufman'. Finally, my curiosity won out. "What is it?" I asked. "It's a cock ring, Chrissie." "Huh?" "A cock ring. It's a ring that goes over your cock." I looked confused, wondering why he would want to put a ring on my penis. "It's too large, I think," I said humbly. Steven smirked. "No it's not. This one also goes over your balls, Chrissie. That way it won't fall off." My testicles still tingled from being squashed and I touched them nervously. It did not seem possible that both my penis and tes- ticles would fit through the little ring. My fingers brushed against Steven's fingers, still cradling my limp penis. It felt good to touch his hand. Our little fingers entwined, keeping our hands together. I understood part of what he was doing. "It's like a wedding ring," I said cautiously. "It is sort of like that, isn't it?" "Yes, Chrissie. You're very smart. In a way it is. You could also think of it as an engagement ring because of the diamonds. Because that's exactly what it is. It's a ring that a boy wears to show who he belongs to," he explained. "This is my ring. You can see my name here, can't you?" I nodded. "Are you going to put it on me now, Steven?" I asked submis- sively. Steven smiled. "You're starting to get the hang of it now, aren't you Chrissie? Does it bother you?" "No! It's just sort of hard to get used to. I have to think first before I say anything. It's that that's weird." "It will take you a while I expect, Chrissie. Some boys never understand what's expected of them, but you already do. I'm very proud of you." I grinned cheerfully. I watched as Steven placed his ring on me. First, he carefully pushed one testicle through and then, from the other side, he pulled cautiously until most of my scrotum had followed. The other testicle popped through of its own accord. Then, he bent my flaccid penis back and down and worked the bit of skin at the end under the ring until he could get it with his fin- gers. He tugged on my foreskin gently. Some of my penis came past the ring, but then friction stopped it. Steven grinned, and leaned over me. He drooled saliva onto my penis, then moved the spit around with his finger to provide lubrication. He tugged on my foreskin again, and my penis slid easily under the band until it was neatly installed around my penis and scrotum. I giggled sheepishly. "I'm your boy now, aren't I?" I gazed at him caringly, touching the band. It did not hurt. If anything, it felt nice, reassuring, like it belonged there. "Almost," Steven answered. "There is one more thing, Chrissie. I imagine your hairdresser friend in Boston told you what I'm going to do to you. Do you know what I'm talking about?" "You put your cock in my bottom," I giggled. "You're going to do that in here?" "Of course not. I don't want you to lose your virginity in the back of a rented limousine. It's much too special. When a boy loses his virginity it should be an important occasion, both for him and the man who loves him. It's not something that should be rushed or done on the spur of the moment." "Then when?" I asked disheartened. "Tonight, Chrissie." Steven considered the shining gold and diamond ring that was around my sex organs. "What do you think, Beautiful?" "I like it," I replied. "I like it a lot," I added with empha- sis. For me, that was the same as saying that I loved it. It was pushed down against my pubic bone, all the way to where my penis was attached. There was a tiny groove formed by the skin of my scrotum as it came around my penis. The ring nestled in the groove like it had always been there. It was something of Steven's that I could wear and no one else would ever know it was there. "I'm glad, Chrissie, because you're going to wear it from now on," Steven said seriously. "I'm not going to let you take it off, you know." His finger rubbed against the gold band, turning it slowly so that we could both read his name. It turned easily, but not so eas- ily that there was any chance of it coming off without a lot of help. It was actually quite comfortable. Momentarily, I thought about how it would fit on Joel's penis. The shape of his chubby scrotum, stretching back beneath him, was very different to mine. It would constantly pull his testicles forward, whereas mine were nearly not affected at all. I felt good inside. It was like being married to Steven, but I dared not say that. "I don't mind." I thought of something. "What happens when my thing gets big?" I asked. "The ring gets tighter of course." "Won't it hurt?" "No! I think you'll find that it'll actually feel even better, Chrissie. Your cock will get even harder with this on. Do you want me to show you?" I grinned, realizing what was about to happen. "Yeah. I'd like that." It took about thirty seconds for my penis to become erect. Perhaps even less than that. Steven touched my private parts in a very different way to what he had done before. This was not about tor- menting me in order to teach me about obedience, this was about giv- ing me pleasure. He tickled underneath my scrotum, close to where the ring was located, in fact rubbing on both sides of the ring, two fingers on my testicles, two fingers on the root of my penis where it disappeared behind my scrotum, and his thumb gently caressing my small organ. My penis lifted up while we both watched. I giggled, ever curious to see it perform its show of getting harder and longer. How did it do that? I remembered the teacher telling us something about it filling with blood, which was a highly unlikely explanation in my mind. I grinned at Steven and he grinned back. "How does it feel, Chrissie?" "Okay," I ventured. It did not feel different. Not really. I don't know that I expected it to, despite what Steven said. There was no reason why it should feel better. Certainly, it felt like the band was becoming tighter around my genitals. I became more aware of my testicles, more aware that they were there, scrunched up beneath my penis. They also looked smaller, but at the same time my penis looked larger. I continued to watch. With Steven, I saw my penis begin to change color. It was not very much at first, but it was definitely getting darker. I grinned at him. This was new. He nodded appreciatively, still stroking, but now concentrating entirely on my penis. It was less sensitive. It kept on swelling, not getting longer, but thicker, and harder, and darker. It was like squeezing a finger near the first joint and watching it turn red. "Look," I murmured. The veins in my penis were beginning to stand out, becoming prominent and purple colored. My penis was crimson colored, just like the Harvard color I realized with wry amusement. It was start- ing to throb, not painfully, but enough to make me shift in my seat. My legs twitched. Steven's hand began making longer strokes, up and down my penis, jerking on the skin. I shuddered. "Okay?" he asked apprehensively. "Uh huh. It looks weird. It feels really funny." "How?" "It's good," I said absently. "Ow!" I gasped as he jerked one more time and pulled the skin back past my glans. The head of my penis had become very swollen and darker than anything else. It was big and glossy. It looked as if it ought to hurt badly. It did not. My legs trembled. Steven's hand kept moving. Again, the voice inside my head, demanding, directing me to `give him access'. I forced my knees apart, grateful for the strenuous exercises that I had been required to do in TaeKwondo. I had more flexibility in my limbs than any other boy in my school. I moved my right leg towards the door, lifted the other up and placed it over Steven's legs, exposing myself. His hand began to move faster, savagely jerking the skin back and forth. I could never have done that to myself. "Oh! Oh! Oh God!" I implored. I rammed my hand into my mouth to muffle the cry. Even my scro- tum had turned dark red now, while my penis was bloated, almost ugly. The rim was flared out and the tiny, normally almost-invisible slit in the tip had been widened into a little mouth. The head was the color of purple plum. My legs trembled uncontrollably. "Oh Steven, go faster," I begged desperately. There was sweat on my forehead and I shook my head wildly. I had done this before, reached the place of delirious joy that exists within every boy, but it had been nothing like this. My whole body was shaking, building up pressure behind the sparkling golden band that was now so visible against my dark skin. My insides were churn- ing. Something was about to burst inside my abdomen. I realized that my pelvis was jerking as I thrashed about on the seat. The muscles inside, the special muscle that Bryce had called my sphincter was clamping down. I had a vague memory about trying to relax that mus- cle or his penis would never be able to get inside me. Then, I had had enough and my head slammed back into the seat and I wailed. "N-n-n-g-g-g....Ah-ah-ah-ah.... Steven! Steven! Oh Steven! It.... IT... Oh...Oh! OH! Ah! Ah!" My penis jerked relentlessly. Not a half a dozen times like it had before, but again and again. I was not aware of his hand stopping, protectively cupping over my sex, pushing down on the dark blood-engorged monster that had become my penis. Dimly, I heard him comforting me, saying something about a `great orgasm', about me being `a beautiful sexy boy', about how it would go down in a while. It throbbed unforgivingly and I could not stop trembling. My arms and legs jerked erratically. I felt like something had been taken from me, that I had been given a wonderful gift than no one else possessed. I had Steven. I was Steven's boy. I slumped against him, coming into his shielding warmth, lifted up and taken into his wel- coming embrace. I lay still in his lap, cradled like a baby in my mother's arms and sensing that he was as proud of me as she had ever been. I could barely breath. I was exhausted. I smiled at him weakly and he brushed his hand over my forehead. "Okay, Chrissie?" he said softly. I tried to nod, but my head flopped back onto the seat. I managed another weak smile to show him I was happy. I was content to lie there forever, listening to the dull thud of the concrete strips in the road. After a minute I nervously felt between my legs. The little ring was still there but my penis had subsided. I liked hav- ing Steven's ring on me, but I especially liked it there. "You're so beautiful, Chrissie," Steven whispered. I fluttered my eyes at him. I could be coy when I wanted to be. `I love you' I mouthed sleepily. "Yes, I know. Go to sleep, Chrissie. We have a long drive ahead and an even longer night." "Shouldn't I get dressed,..." I suggested awkwardly. "No. I want to look at you. Do you mind?" "No!" I nuzzled his arm that came down to support my head. "I do love you, Steven," I whispered tiredly. "I know. I love you too, Chrissie. Are you cold?" It was all I could do to shake my head. Where had all my strength gone to? I had only been awake for a few hours and I was already sleepy. It did not make any sense at all.