Date: Thu, 08 Jun 2000 18:51:11 BST From: Jack Rowan Subject: The Story of Tim - part 3 THE STORY OF TIM - part 3 This story includes descriptions of sexual relations between an adult man and a teenage boy, including bondage and SM. If the law in your jurisdiction says that you're too young to be reading this, then I suggest very strongly that you should obey the law. People who are likely to be offended by the subject matter are respectfully advised not to read it. Please note: This is fiction. In real life, sexual relationships between adults and teenagers cannot be condoned. For other notes, please see the start of part 1. Comments will be very gratefully received by Jack_Rowan@hotmail.com ====================================================================== 14 A phone call --------------- The alarm clock woke me. I dragged myself to the shower, after banging on Tim's door. I heard him moaning a protest. By the time I had some coffee ready, Tim was up and dressed, if you could call that swimsuit dressed. Once again it was a bright day, and the morning sun shone through the kitchen windows. "Ready? It's nearly seven - she should be just going to bed. You phone. This is the number." He picked out the number, and I could hear the American ringing tone. Then she answered. "Hello? Mira? It's Tim." I listened to Tim's half of the conversation for a couple of minutes, staring out of the window. Then I heard him say: "He's been really nice. We went swimming yesterday in the pond behind the house. It was really nice. But he won't put me in his chair thing, you know, you saw it... No, he says I'm too young... Yes, we've talked about a lot of things..." He was grinning at me maliciously. I mimed fury, and he laughed. "He's looking at me like he's really mad... No, honestly, Mum, I've been really good... You know, everything... You know what I mean, Mum, don't make me say it, it's too embarrassing... No, no, he's ever so proper... Oh, okay. Ta-ra, I'll phone again soon." He turned to me. "Your turn. And I'm to go outside." "Hello, Mira." "David, is he being a pest?" "No, not at all. But it is the first time I've been directly propositioned by a fourteen-year-old, I admit." "Directly propositioned?" "Yes, tie me up and do your worst. Honestly, almost in so many words." "And you said no?" "Yes. Several times, now." "He has propositioned you several times? And you have said no?" "That's right." "And is he happy about that?" "Um. No, I don't think he is, really. Although he's puttting a brave face on it. I heard him crying last night. Honest to God, Mira, it isn't easy. I've - I've already become very fond of him." "You're in love." "Oh, lord, it sounds dreadful, doesn't it? A 34-year-old man, telling a mother he's in love with her fourteen-year-old son. But, oh god, I suppose it's true." "Tying up? Bondage? Pain? He, he spoke to you about all that?" "Mira, this must be only between us. But yes. He says that's what he wants." "Do you really think this is news to me? If you're worried about betraying his confidence, don't be. I've known it for years." "Years!" "Oh, yes, of course. A boy's mother notices these things, especially if she isn't really his mother. It's been a major worry." "But I won't do anything with him, Mira, please believe me, you can rely on me with this, I won't take advantage. I've been saying, find someone your own age." "David, for pity's sake. I'm not going to tell you your business, but look. There's poor old Tim. Then there's you, who's an expert in it, and you love him, and you're one of the most responsible and kind people I know, and you're telling him the best thing he can do is to go and experiment with the most dangerous kind of sex going, with some random teenage beginner? Someone who could be stupid or vicious or mad? Or perhaps crawl off to some club in London or to a toilet somewhere?" "Mira, for god's sake!" The images she painted were horrible to imagine, and all too likely. "Look, David, why do think I brought him to you? Why do you think I gave you no choice in this? It's been worrying me shitless, this thing, that's the honest truth. As I said, I'm not going to try to teach you your business. I'm in no position to know whether you're the person to lead him in this. But if you aren't, I'm counting on you to find someone who is, and to take it in hand, keep an eye on it. I've looked after him all these years, and it's been a joy, because he's such a love, and I loved your brother so much, I owed him. But this is beyond me, and it isn't beyond you. Dammit, it's your turn, David." I hesitated. "Okay, Mira, point taken. Don't make me give you an answer. But... yes, I'll take some advice. I have friends. I'll make sure that nothing goes wrong, I promise." "That's all I'm asking. Just don't rule things out, okay? And he may be young, but he's tough, and he knows his own mind. In about fifteen months, he would be able to marry. Remember that." "Would be able?" "Oh David, he's as gay as a goose. Hadn't you realised? But look, I must go to bed, I'm dead beat. Meetings all day and bloody jetlag." "Okay, Mira. I hear you. And I really will look after him." "Right. Bye-bye. And - and bless you." 15 And another phone call ------------------------- Tim was chucking a frisbee across the meadow. We played for a while, as I mulled over what Mira had said. "Tim? I must make a phone call. It's private. Do you mind staying out here for a few minutes?" "Cool." I looked up Chris's number, and dialed her. Chris was an old friend. As well as being a significant clinical psychologist, she was a well-known and extremely respected Dominatrix. We didn't play together, but we often met. "Chris? Have you got a minute?" "Got a minute? Are you joking? It's eight o'clock in the morning, for god's sake, what do you expect me to be doing?" I had honestly forgotten the time. "I need to talk. I have a problem, a really big problem. I need advice, big time." "Lord. That sounds serious. Don't worry, there's nothing on I can't clear. What's up?" "I'm in love." "Ooh. In love? You? How long since that happened?" "Not since Vincent left." "The iceberg thaws. It's about bloody time, if you want my opinion. So, what's the problem?" "He's a child. A boy." A pause. "Not so good. Not so good at all. Perhaps you should come and see me?" "Please. Today. Now, if you can." "Not now, for pity's sake. Eleven o'clock." "Okay, I'll be there." I called Tim in for a coffee. "So, what did Mira have to say?" "Various things. Not for public consumption." "Ooh, very mysterious. You look a bit happier today, though." "Happier? Didn't I look happy yesterday?" "Not always. Nor did I, I suppose." "No. But - well, I've got various things to think about. Look, I want to deal with some letters and stuff, then I need to go out for a wee bit. By myself. Is that okay?" He smiled. "Sure. Take all the time you need." I pretended to snarl at him. "Just watch it, kid. Just watch it, okay?" He laughed and went to turn on the Nintendo. There was a fair backlog of mail to deal with, and I tried to lose myself in it. Pretty soon, it seemed, it was time to go. I waved a cheerio to Tim. "Remeber - no swimming, okay? And, er, the door to the basement's locked." "Spoilsport!" 16 A lesson ----------- Chris lives in a thatched cottage on the edge of the next village. A village witch's cottage, we always joked. She met me in the garden. She's tall, dark, beautiful, and a bit forbidding. In her dom gear, which I've never seen, she must be completely formidable. In a few minutes I was sitting by a cup of coffee in her kitchen. She went for scrubbed pine and lots of plants. A version of _Accidental Blessings_, presumably by her, presided. "So, what's this all about?" I explained who Tim was, and how I came to be looking after him. "And what's he like?" "Stunning. He's really got to me. He's fourteen -" "Fourteen?! Fourteen isn't a child. Oh lord, you had me really worried. I thought you'd fallen for a cute, cuddly six-year-old or something. I was wondering whether I shouldn't call in the social workers! So, you're wondering whether to put the moves on him, are you?" "I wouldn't need to. He's already put the moves on me. Heavily. Right up to directly asking me." "And you said no?" "Yes. Several times. Chris, he thinks he's into bondage. And pain. His mother thinks so too. Also he's gay, she thinks." "Ah. And you're not sure he could handle it?" "He's fourteen!" "Don't just recite 'he's fourteen, he's fourteen' at me! I asked you a question. Could he cope?" "How should I know? I know nothing about fourteen-year-olds." "Is he past puberty? Do you think he could come?" "Yes, and I know he can." I described what I had seen through his window. "Hot, very hot. And what do you usually do, Mr Major League Master, if you don't know if a man can cope?" "Go slow. Pace him. Explore. Be careful. Push, but gently." "Okay. Me too. And does this work?" "I suppose so." "When was the last time someone safeworded on you?" "Five or six years ago." "And I've still heard you called Cruel David. You're hard. I wouldn't do some of the things you do. You're one of the best, because you really care about your subs. If I had a son, I'd rather he was in your hands than more-or-less anyone else I could think of. Certainly more than some spotty teenage bully behind the bike sheds." "That's more-or-less what his mother said." "Did she now? Sensible woman. Honestly, David, I don't know what the hell you're worried about. Is it something that happened when you were a kid yourself?" Of course, lots of things happened when I was a kid. Not many of them were too good, but that's another story. We talked about it for some time. "And after all that, you still think he'd be better off with someone else? David, you're off your chump. Actually, I think it's worse than that. You're frightened. You're going to miss the chance to help him along because you're in a pure blue funk." "Chris! That's not fair!" "Isn't it? Think about it. But I want to see this boy. Invite me to lunch. Now. Come on, let's go." And so a few minutes later I was introducing them. "So, you're the famous Tim," she said, as I went to rustle up some food. She put a finger under his chin and lifted his face to hers. "God, you're lovely," she said. "Do you always go around in this state of undress?" "Yes, ma'am. Quite a lot. Especially - especially sometimes." "Ah. Yes. I think I see what you mean. You're quite a smart kid, aren't you?" "People say so, ma'am." "I say so. I'm a psychologist, I know everything. How long have you been here?" "Two days." "And that was enough, was it?" I could hear Tim laugh. "Not so far, ma'am. But I'm working on it." This time it was Chris's turn to laugh. She strode into the kitchen. "David, he's adorable," she muttered. "If only you could give him to me. I'd enjoy making him squeal, I can tell you!" "Oh, god, Chris!" "You haven't a chance, you know that?" I gave her a look. "Tim? There's some lunch in here!" "I'm not hungry," said Chris suddenly. "I'd better be off. David, a word with you." We walked to her car. "David, I've just got this to say to you. You've been brought this. They won't do it twice, if you refuse it. If you miss him, you'll regret it for the rest of your life. And so will he. He'll never forgive you, and he'll be right. Stop swithering. It's unmasterful, it's cowardly and it's wrong." She swung into the car and started it. "You need to told, it seems. Take that boy, Mister Branver. I shall want a full report." I looked at her. She waited. "Yes, ma'am." She drove off. 17 Decision ----------- I walked slowly back into the house. By the time I reached it I had decided. What I was going to do would either change my life into something completely wonderful, or totally destroy it. But it couldn't be avoided. "Right! How about this lunch, then?" "Okay, I'm starving. We didn't have any breakfast, remember?" I'd completely forgotten. "Nor we did. Jesus, what a morning!" Tim laughed. He knew better than to needle me. I was impressed. "Who was she?" "That was Chris. She's a clinical psychologist, like she said. Also she's a very good friend. Also, she's very well known in, in what I do." "In tying people up and hurting them, you mean?" "She's a Dominatrix. Most of the people she does it with are men. And we usually call it SM. That's sado-masochism." "SM? Okay. She's - very impressive looking. Frightening, almost." I laughed. "She has that effect. You called her 'ma'am'." "Was that wrong? I don't know, it seemed the right thing to do." "Yes, it was. Look, let's take our coffee out onto the patio." The midday sun shone down on the little paved area, where we sat under our awnings. Far away I could hear a combine starting the harvest. "Look!" said Tim. "There are ducks on the pond!" "So there are. They come and go. It's nice to give them a stopover." "I love it here." We sat quietly for a while. Things were going on in my mind. "Tim, I'm going to take a little walk. I need to think out what to do next." Tim heaved a sigh and smiled at me. It wasn't a taunt. He had sniffed the wind changing. "In the meantime, you didn't have a shower this morning, did you? Have one now, a good one, and then come back here. Wear your swimsuit. And don't hurry." "Okay." His eyes were wide. I ruffled his hair and smiled at him. He smiled back. I walked out across the meadow. With those few instructions I had taken the plunge. I knew it, and Tim knew it. Now I was in another world, a world I knew well. Now it was a case of planning a scene for him. It mustn't be too much, that was obvious. I didn't know enough about him. I didn't know anything about his limits, and discussing them at this stage wouldn't work. But it couldn't be too little, either. It had to be enough to work as a rite of passage, as something he would remember. He had to feel that he had moved from one place to another. Because this wasn't to be the end of it, unless something went really wrong. I was already thinking of the next scene, and the next. Of how I should lay out his development over the next weeks. There were many plans to be made. We would need some new things. We would need to make trips. There were people to be visited as well. I reviewed what I knew about him, his hot spots, his vulnerabilities. And gradually what we would do together began to take shape. And after the struggles of the last couple of days, I felt the strength that I needed grow, and an immense joy that I had come to this. This was going to be a crowning glory, my masterpiece. I paused at the edge of the wood, at the spot where I speak to the kindly powers, when I need to. I brought _Accidental Blessings_ to mind, and gave thanks. Perhaps half an hour had passed. I could see that Tim was waiting for me. Good. Let the apprehension grow. I walked slowly back, knowing he was watching every step. There he was, his fair hair brushed out as usual, his arms resting lightly on the tabletop. Waiting. I sat down opposite him. "Tim," I said. "If you like, I'll take you on a journey." He smiled. "Where to?" "We don't know yet. We'll have to find out gradually. It could be a long journey, I don't know. It depends on you. Because you can stop the train and get off at any point. Whenever you want. I will never, ever, take you a step more then you want." "I understand. I believe you." "There will be pain. Do you understand? There will be restraint, being tied up. There will also be sex." "Oh, David, oh wow." "You're frightened?" "Yeah. Yes, I am, a bit." "That's okay, but remember: I will never permanently injure or damage you. And we will always stop if you really can't go on. If ever you want us to stop, you just say the word. And the word is 'symphony'. Say it." "Symphony". He realised that we were doing something important. His face was very serious. We could still hear the bees, and the thrumming of the distant combine. "Again." "Symphony." "That is your safeword. If ever you say it, we will stop. And then we will have to think very hard what to do next. Because sometimes the way will be hard. Sometimes you will be pushed very hard, harder than you think you can bear. The safeword is your way out, and I will always respect it. But don't use it unless something is very, very wrong. Do you understand?" "Yes." "But sometimes you won't want us to stop. Sometimes you will just want me to hold back, to go slower, to pause for a while. Or you'll just want me to know that it is very hard. So there is another word. That word is 'daffodil'. Say it." "Daffodil". "Again." "Daffodil." "That is your slowword. You have your safeword, and your slowword. Apart from those two words, I will use my judgment. You can tell me to stop, you can even scream..." "Oh wow..." "Yes, because that will happen. But unless you use one of your words, I will go as fast as I want, and stop when I want. Do you understand?" "Yes, I understand all that." "Now. Do you want to start on our journey?" "Yes. Yes, I do, very much." There were tears in his eyes. As I watched, one ran down his cheek. He was so beautiful I could hardly bear to look at him. I stood up and held out a hand. "Then come on." He took my hand and stood up. "But first - we always start with a kiss. Because I love you, Tim, never forget that. I don't think I have ever loved anyone as much." I bent and touched my lips to his. Instantly he opened his mouth and devoured me, his tongue thrusting forward, his arms grabbing my head. I opened to him and he moaned, writhing in my arms. "I thought this would never happen," he whispered. "I'm so happy." 18 The start of a journey ------------------------- I led the way into the living room, to the Chair. "Since you've so interested in this, we will use it to start with. It's called the Chair. But first - stand over here." "Okay." "You will call me 'sir'. When I give you an instruction, you will say 'Yes, sir,' and then do it. You will never argue, or hesitate. If you wish to tell me something, you will say 'Permission to speak, sir.'" Do you understand?" "Yes, sir." "That's good, Tim. Stand over here, then." "Yes, sir." I positioned him where he couldn't see the Chair, and faced him. "Now clasp your hands behind you head. Elbows a bit further back. That's good. Now put your feet further apart. A bit further. Now, tuck your bum in a bit, so your dick is pushed forward. That's it. Put your head up. Always try to keep your head up, unless I say. You are proud, okay? Proud of your body. You're cute, remember?" "Yes, sir." He smiled, and I smiled back. "That position is called 'present'. When I say 'present', you will say 'Yes, sir,' and get into that position. Present!" "Yes, sir." I moved closer to him. "That's good. Now. Don't move." "No, sir." I ran my hands down his body. His breath came short and quick, but he held is position. I gently rubbed his nipples, and he gasped. Then I pinched, and little cry came from him. "Don't move. Look into my eyes." I pinched harder and harder. His eyes stretched wider and wider. I could see tears in them. But he didn't move. I looked down, and I could see that he was still hard. My god, I thought, this is going to work. It's going to work. I held tight for maybe ten seconds, staring into his eyes. Then I slackened a little. "I'm hurting you." "Yes, sir," he whispered. "You have not resisted. You have submitted of your own free will to pain at my hands. You are one of us, now. You will never be quite the same again." I saw a tear slip from his eye. "Now say this: My body is yours; do what you want with me." "My body is yours; do what you want with me." "Now say it five times. And each time you say it, mean it. Each time you say it, mean it a little more. Don't move." I held him with my eyes as he repeated the sentence, tears streaming from his eyes. Lord, I thought, this is corny, but he's taking it. And so was I. By the end I could feel my tears beginning to rise as well. Then I pinched, hard. A cry, almost a scream, came from the boy, but he didn't move. I stopped pinching and slid a hand down, lower, lower. It brushed over his swimsuit and cupped his dick and balls. He was as hard as steel. I squeezed very gently, trying to give him pleasure. After pain, pleasure. A guttural moan came from him. "Keep looking in my eyes. Does this feel good?" "Oh god, yes sir." "Say this: My sex is yours; do what you want with me." He gulped and said it. "Now say it five times. And each time you say it, mean it a little more. Don't move." And once again I held him with my eyes. He was finding it difficult to speak for the sobs, now. When he finished, I grasped him in my arms. "You've done well, Tim, really really well. I'm proud." He melted into me. I licked his cheeks, and wiped his eyes with my handkerchief. His tears tasted both salt and sweet, the most delicious taste I could imagine. Then I stepped back. "Present!" "Yes, sir." He snapped into position. I smiled at him. "Head up. Be proud. Wait here. Don't move." 19 Again, the Chair ------------------- I adjusted the Chair to suit his size. It looked tiny. I moved the arms round so that they were above the head. Some people only bind lightly for a beginner's scene. I don't. Being tied, being helpless is the thing they've fantasised about the most, and if it's properly supervised, it's the easiest thing to cope with. So they're least likely to be disappointed. Not that Tim would be disappointed even if we stopped now. But I wouldn't stop. I was going to sear him this time. After this, it would all be different, just as I'd said. "Come over here, Tim." "Yes, sir." "Up on the Chair, and spread out your arms and legs." He gave a kind of groan, and obeyed. I put his arms and legs into the rests, and one by one I strapped them in. I pulled the strap across his chest, under the arms. Then I slipped the waist strap across him - it was three inches wide. I braced my foot against the side to pull it tight, just as I do with a full-grown man. It doesn't make it much tighter, but it certainly has an effect. I missed the neck strap for this time. "Now, Tim, you are in restraint. Are you okay?" "Oh, god, yes, sir." I caressed his dick gently, then ran my hand over his body. He sighed, like someone settling into bed at the end of a long day. He smiled at me. I smiled back. "Okay. Don't go away, now." I left him. For half an hour I drank a cup of coffee, sat outisde briefly in the sun, logged onto my computer. But I kept listening, and glancing. I could see him moving his feet, his fingers, his head. That was as much as he could do. At one point I thought I saw him struggle briefly, and he gave a muffled cry. I checked but he seemed okay. I wanted him to get the feel of being tied up, of what it really meant when you really couldn't undo yourself. It was strange, doing a scene in broad, golden sunlight. Strange, but good. Somehow it suited him. Finally I came back to him. I could see he was still hard. "Okay, Tim?" "Yes, sir. Permission to speak, sir." "Yes, Tim." "Would you please scratch my nose, sir. It's distracting." I did it. "Thank you, sir." "That was a good thing to ask for, Tim. You did right." "Thank you, sir." "And now... I could whip you. Or, then again, I could fuck you. Or perhaps I could leave you tied up for the rest of the day, and the night. Or lots of things. All of those things. Anything. But I won't. What I will do will be: this." I had got the bunch of feathers from the bedroom cupboard, where my toys were stacked. Now I drew them up his side from his swimsuit to his armpit. The effect was immediate: he literally screamed. It wasn't even laughter, it was a helpless scream from the guts. I was impressed. "Oh god, sir, please don't, please, I'm begging you, not that!" I drew up a chair. "Yes, definitely that. Definitely." I did it again, four or five times, slowly. It took about half a minute. He screamed and screamed, and by the end I thought he was almost about to pass out. He was weeping again, this time from the agony. I waited a short while, and then did it again. This time he turned his head from me and shut his eyes. He was hating me a little. It's what I wanted. "Tim!" Silence. "Tim! Open your eyes, and look at me." My voice was not loud, but it was firm. He obeyed. Internally I sang hallelujahs. "Well done, Tim. That was good. Now I'm going to do it again, and I want you to look at me all the time." "Y-yes, sir." I held him with my eyes as I did it. Four, five times. He screamed, tears came, but he didn't look away. I leant down, and kissed him, and he responded frantically. I almost came at that moment. "Thank you, Tim. You're very brave. But now... Now we have the Proceedings of the Inquisition." 20 The storm ------------ "This is how it works. I'm going to ask questions, and you will answer. If you don't answer, then you know what will happen." "Y-yes, sir. I'll answer. Only, please, don't..." "Just answer, okay? How old are you, Tim?" "Fourteen, sir. Fifteen in three months." "How many sisters and brothers have you?" "None, sir. As far as I know. Maybe my original father has other children by now, but I wouldn't know." And all the time the sun lay in golden bars across him, across me. "Okay, Tim. Tell me, Tim, do you wank?" He paused. Immediately I was there with the feathers, one, two strokes. His screams came just as before, and then his answer came in a shriek. "Yes!! Yes I do!" It was beautiful. He was beautiful. I wanted to cry. "Just answer, Tim. Just answer. Now. When you wank, who do you think of? Girls and women, or boys and men?" This time it took four strokes before he answered. "Boys! Boys and men! Oh, please, please, stop it, sir!" "Just answer, Tim, and it won't happen. And when you're walking along the street, or sitting in school, who is it you fancy? Who catches your eye? Girls and women, or boys and men?" Another four strokes before he forced himself to reply. I noticed he was no longer hard. "It's boys and men! Always boys and men! You bastard, stop doing this, I hate you, I hate you!!" "Keep looking in my eyes, Tim. Tim! Look in my eyes! Now!!" This time I was shouting, and with a look of horror he obeyed. "Again! Tim, when you wank, you think about boys and men. When you have fantasies, it's about boys and men. That's true, isn't it?" "Yes! Yes, fuck you! Yes!" "Tim, are you gay?" The strokes started again, five, six, seven. I stopped because I was afraid he would pass out on me. "You fucking bastard pig!! Just stop, just stop!" "Again! Tim, are you gay?" And again I had to stop. And again I asked. He was twisting and straining now, his fingers grasping hopelessly, his mouth drooling. And finally he broke. "Yes! Yes! Okay, you bastard, it's true! Yes, I'm gay!" "Say it again!" "I'm gay!" "Again." "I'm gay, you sodding fucking bastard, I'm gay!" I stroked his head, and he tossed furiously. I laughed gently, and he started to weep tears of helpless fury. He hated me now, really hated me. I stood and folded the legs of the Chair together, and slowly began to work his swimsuit down. He almost growled his fury at me. "Now, let's just see what this shy boy has been hiding," I said, tauntingly. And all the while I was pleading inside myself, Don't safeword, Tim, please don't safeword, or we're truly in the shit. It may have been a small scene, but heaven above, I had rarely worked as dangerously as this. And there it was, soft but sticky with precum, uncut, utterly delicious. As I unfastened his legs, he kicked ferociously. I grasped both with one arm and worked the swimsuit off. Then, one by one, I fastened them back, with him screaming his defiance all the time. I moved the leg stirrups wide apart, and up, and he was completely open to me. I could see him right back to his arsehole, clean, fine, clothed in fair hair. I reached out to touch his nipples and he screamed at me. I licked them, I gently chewed them, I ran my hands over his lovely stomach. And gradually his dick responded. No-one had ever done this to him before, and he couldn't resist. His screams alternated with gasps. And then I took his dick in my mouth, slid it right to the root in one movement. The sweet, sweet taste of him was on my tongue. He was hard in an instant, and his screams died. I could see his head tossing, his face contorted with his churning feelings. I played him. Brought him to the edge, let him down again and again. I caressed, sucked, swallowed him. Little cries of pleasure came from him, he thrashed, his hands curled and uncurled, his mouth dribbled. And then finally: "Oh god, sir, let me come! Please, please let me come! Please!" And then he came. Tumultuously, endlessly. I swallowed and swallowed, and still the unbelievable fresh taste of his seed was in my mouth. I snapped the quick releases, and Tim tumbled into my arms, kissing and hugging like a maddened dervish.