Date: Mon, 9 Jul 2001 20:29:53 -0000
From: Samuel McEwen <eros_1@hotmail.com>
Subject: Another Story (Authoritarian)

Howdy fellas. Don't read this if you're underage... and it's my work so
don't use it as your own. Ummm... I think I'd also like to keep this story
goin'.. so if you like let me know, I think Carl'll maybe have a boy at the
office and maybe another dude on the side.. let me know what ya think.

eros_1@hotmail.com


I hate it when he screams like this.

"Stop, Carl! Stop..." I grabbed him by the hands and pulled his arms tight
against his back. His body, facing away from me, struggled futilely against
my chest. He started crying. "God, Carl. Just leave ... me ... alone." I
hissed in his ear and with my single free hand tore at the front of his
clothes. He wore a silvery blue suit, likely some dumb designer original
that cost me weeks worth of salary. His shirt and tie, in the same color of
his suit, were quickly torn off. "That's new!" He shrieked indignantly, and
I jerked his arm higher up his back. He gasped deeply.

I eased slightly on my hold. I broke his arm once. It gave me more grief
than it ever gave him. My brief slack on his arm gave him a moment to break
free of my grasp. After fifteen years "together" Darius Knight could
certainly move fast. He darted across the dark room, and I caught his
silhouette slip across the gauzy glow of the night on the two windows on
the other side of the room. I spun back towards the door and slammed it
shut and flipped on the light.

I spun back around to face the room. We were in Dare's house, or I guess I
should call it Knight House. The house had been here so long, and been in
his family since the first spade broke ground generations ago, that it only
temporality belong to him. It's oppressive enough to make a person
sick. His body, leaning over the billiard table at the far end of the room,
panted. His clothes lay in torn and ripped rags off his shoulders and
chest. God he looked good.

Between us lay a mahogany card table, topped in green felt, surrounded by
four chairs, then the billiard table beyond, and two long leather sofas on
either side of the room. It was too cramped for him to try and out race
me. I tossed the card table across the room; it smashed against one of the
sofas. He looked up, stunned.

"Carl! My Grandfather brought that back from Normandy after the war ...You
can't even...." I lunged across the room, now only the wide billiard table
between us, and my side blocking the door. "Carl, I want you to leave,
now. I'll scream for help."

Help refers to one of his stupid "staff." Which was simply an elderly
couple, one who cooked and one who mowed the lawns. And a series of
never-ending, absent-minded young women employed for cleaning. "I don't
think so," I growled, calling his bluff. "You want one of your employees
see you get raped in your own house?" Just saying the word --- rape --- my
dick lurched in my pants.

Dare leaned back away from the table. Before I could do anything, he flung
around and tore open the floor to ceiling Regency window. I flew around the
corner of the billiard table. Dare had stepped across the cast-iron parapet
outside the window and was on the opposite side of the window. It was only
a drop about five feet from the ground.

Our eyes locked for a moment. I narrowed my eyes. Fear flashed across his
face and he leaned back. I took the few bounds to the window, and saw Dare
scramble out of the boxwoods by the ground. In the light cast by the room
on the ground outside I saw Dare run towards the front of the house. I ran
back across the room and down the marble foyer. Slipping into the front
door, I flipped the locks and tore the doors open. I saw Dare run back to
the other side of the house where the garages were. I smiled, and sauntered
slowly back to the garage.

As I turned the corner I pulled the keys of my pocket. I knew what Dare
would have found. By his demand his cars were parked every night in their
garages, and the doors shut. Completely inaccessible from the exterior of
the house. Knowing his actions he'd have darted for my car, a long low
little BMW coupe. I held the keys up. In the glint of the floodlights
bathing the court he spotted that the keys were in my hands, and not in the
ignition. I walked the distance between the car and myself. As I approached
into earshot I herd the lock of the doors.

Dare slid across to the passenger side, in accessible to me as I was parked
closely to the wall, allowing space for one of the huge land yachts he
indulged himself with to have the space needed to exit their port. I smiled
inwardly and frantically ran to the handle of the door, yanking on it
dramatically. Dare covered his eyes, and then, as I began to yell, his
ears. With his two perfectly manicured hands over each side of his
aristocratic sculpted face, I made an exaggerated gesture. Slapping my
forehead to illustrate my stupidity. He looked on, in confusion. I pulled
the keys back into sight ... realization flashed in his face. I took the
remote entry, and unlocked the door, yanking the car door open before he
could hit the lock button again.

"Omigod," he shrieked. Slamming the passenger door against the brick wall
on his right. However, the space was to narrow, even for his lean frame to
squeeze through. I grabbed him by the arm again only to get resistance as
his hands clutched deep into the leather upholstery on the seat. I leaned
into the car and pulled with all my might. At least it was a silent
struggle. With a catch of his breath I pulled him painfully off his seat,
across the console and shift, over the drivers seat, and back onto the
cobbles of the driveway. He pulled and strained against me. I forced my
lips onto his. Pushing my tongue into his mouth deeply. Obscenely, as he
called it. Indecent.

I pulled off of him. "Let go of me," he fumed. "You smell like a brewery,
you vile drunkard. You're dirt. Filth. I want nothing to do with you
anymore."

I tore away the remains of his top. I laughed cynically, "Yeah, how about
my money. You're nothing but a prostitute."

"I have money," he spat at my face, missing.

"No, my love," I drawled sarcastically. "You have what is referred to as
the trappings of money. The house the cars, the STUFF," I yelled,
momentarily losing my cool. "But, none of the CASH needed to upkeep your
precious lifestyle."

He grinned, a wicked grin reserved for me alone. An expression miles away
from the sweet, spoiled simper expressed to his peers and for the society
pages. "Ahhh, how quickly we forget, Carl. I, as your adoring," he cooed
the word bitterly and it stung slightly, "life partner, have control over
half of your sorry-assed little company."

I stared, dazed. I guess I was a little drunk.

"Half of it's mine!" He laughed, spittle flying, undemurely from his
lips. "I can burn it, take it, or even better, sell it off to the highest
bidder."

I see, I thought, the palimony thing from decades ago. "How dare you throw
that in my face, after all these years I've looked after you."

"I'm thirty-seven, Carl. I don't need you to look after me. Especially not
when every time you come out here, we fight, and you do this!" He gestured
hugely, encompassing the night and the entire situation beneath the stars.

I grimaced. "And don't throw my drinking into our arguments. If anything,
you drive me to it. And don't put on airs." I barred my teeth, and hissed
at him, "What are you dosing tonight?"

He looked stunned, but sniffed deeply, an unconscious guilty habit he
had. He'd been a cokehead for close to a decade now. Not very hard core,
but occasionally quite intense. He broke an arm free and reeled back,
letting his surprisingly strong swing clap me hard on the side of his
face. I loosened my grip as my ears rang. I came to quickly, and smashed an
under cut to the base of his jaw. Not horribly hard, but a good place
because it left no substantial marks. Dare had a low tolerance of pain
... big surprise, and he quickly folded into my arms. He'd come to shortly,
so I took the incentive and swept his now cooperative body into my arms. I
carried him back across the dark looming facade of the house and up through
the open front door.

He began to squirm, and I chose not to try and struggle him up the long
flight of stairs to his bedroom. I had to have him so the closest available
plain would make do quite well. I turned and decided to take him on the
dining room table. The long black ebony table stretched down into the
darkness, lit from the exterior lights washing the facade of the house I
deftly undid the clasp of the fine black leather belt and pulled it off of
his narrow, 28 inch waist. For just a moment I reveled in a bit of
indulgence and drew my lips and tongue along his wonderful collar bone and
out his broad shoulders. He always looked amazing, in my opinion. Perhaps
not sexy in the typical way, but his face was so distinctive, and his thin
waist and wide shoulders and narrow waist and long legs always turned me
on. Like a Japanese animee drawing, more then a human frame.

I finally felt him start to come to beneath me and I leaned back to swipe
the slacks off of him, leaving him in his white Calvin athletic boxers. I
grinned and cupped the mound, smaller than mine, but quite adequate,
however in moments I'd throw it back at him. I grinned and pressed my
weight against him again as he struggled back to consciousness. He was a
quick person and within the first few seconds of awaking he took in what
was happening and where he was. Dare began to cry, likely from the pain in
his jaw line. He'd learned from years prior that tears were only a turn on,
like a watered down version of my favorite salty bodily fluid.

While pinning him with one arm, I undid my Polo shirt and pulled it up over
my head and then reached and undid the top button of my pants then, leaning
my upper body weight on to him. I kicked my legs back to the floor and let
my pants drop to my ankles where I kicked them off and quickly repeated the
same with my briefs. My uncut cock was my pride possession. It jutted out
angrily from between my hips, a long ten inches and about the width of a
beer bottle. My balls were low and heavy, always ... even after unloading a
mass of jizz they still stretched the skin of my ball sack tight around
there Grade AAA heft. Dare turned his head to the side, his struggle given
up, and his tears fell on the black depth of the tabletop. Using my thick
big hands I reached into the button fly of his underwear and jabbing his
balls with a couple of my finger tips I saw his stomach muscles tighten and
he moaned out in pain. I leaned down and closed my lips on one of his
copper sized nipples. As the stubble on my chin scratched his smooth chest
and my teeth closed down just enough to acquire the pain I wanted from
him. My hands tore away the last vestment he had on, and I felt his hard
seven incher brush against my fore arm as it leaned in toward his own
naval.

I grabbed both his legs and positioned the crook of his knees onto my own
tanned, muscled shoulders, his exposed ass pulling up to my dick head. The
length of the shaft burying into his crack brought forth a sigh of my
own. After a moment of enjoyment I pulled back and positioned myself to his
shute. I marveled at how, after all these years, I could find it so
effortlessly in the dark of night and intoxication. I pushed the head into
the warm, accommodating, but tight ring of his ass and then waited. Within
a few moments his breath quickened and his eyes opened. His head turned to
me. His pretty pale face was framed by his own dark hair, which bled into
the ebony depths of the table. The room heavily shadowed the musculature on
his upper body adding to any definition found there. His face was also
heavily shadowed. His lips parted slightly and were shaded along his high
cheekbones and chin, fading into the darkness. His eyes were merely dark
sockets with only momentary glints with in the pupil visible, like an
animal in the dark. But otherwise his skin glowed translucent and pale. It
was ethereal.

I sensed he was looking at me, and I stared back. My dick twitched deep
with in its tight confines. I could resist no longer I quickly stabbed it
to the root into the receiving opening. A short gasp crawled out of the
night but that was all. I grinned a bit into the night and pulled out and
lunged in again, repeating each thrust, pulling at his un-lubed asshole and
scraping across his prostate. No sound emitted and I increased in intensity
as I built closer and closer to cumming. As I fucked him I pushed him along
the tabletop. Our sweat easily lubricating us along it's length. Finally as
I built to climax and lunged the last time into his hot depths I drove our
frames into the cascade of light from outdoors that fell across the middle
of the table. His face alit. His eyes were clouded and angry. He licked his
lips; I drew back from the fire I felt burning in him. Not pulling out
though and my head brushed the top of the chandelier.

I dislodged myself from the filigree of the chandelier and pulled out of
Dare. He rolled to his side and slid off the table. He quickly pulled a
linen tablecloth off of the sideboard and wrapped it about his waist. It
trailed like a train at his ankles. At the door he turned, his narrow taut
frame illuminated from behind. He looked so regal. He didn't say anything
as I expected he would. He turned and ascended the stairs, his countenance
finally disappearing into the dark of the landing, and shortly after the
train of his tablecloth ascended each of the steps with dignity, each
folding the rise and run and finally absorbing into the dark like it's
wearer. With a click of his bedroom door, I rested my head back on the
table and exhaled with satisfaction.