This story details explicit gay sex between men, teens and boys. If you find this kind of thing distasteful, or if you are underage where ever you live, then stop reading this now, and delete this file. The story is completely fictional, the author does not condone or encourage any of the acts contained herein.


Chapter 12

Kenny has, by now, been with us for three months. Like Jason, he's required to be naked while he's in the house, and like Jason, he's not allowed any body hair – a control issue, although he's really cute this way. Unlike Jason, he's not able to groom himself, at least not entirely, because his ass crack needs to be shaved. That requires assistance from either me or Jason. But he's certainly motivated to maintain his grooming standards, because as the stubble appears, the itching starts. It's Kenny himself who comes a-begging, and it's really sort of cute.

He's gotten a job, finally -- at Nordstrom's, no less. His unwillingness to take any but the most plumb position has figured prominently in his punishments twice a week since soon after he arrived. That, and what I perceive as arrogance. It gets bad enough that, after a couple weeks, I do to him what I did to Jason early on: I stuffed two stainless-steel eggs up his ass -- two pounds of steel that bounces against his sphincter and prostate with every step he takes. It keeps him perpetually hard, forcing him to focus on submission which, like Jason, is a foreign concept. I also plug his dick with a prince's wand, an insert kept in place with a ring around the glans of his penis rather than a piercing. (I tell him if he doesn't shape up, we'll do the piercing, which scares him absolutely to death.) He's not allowed to touch any of this, so if he needs to pee or shit, he has to negotiate with me -- or Jason, a boy six years his junior, which I think is a nice touch. (The first day of the dick plug, he removes it himself to pee. Jason finds him in the bathroom, having a wank, and tells me, and I beat him within an inch of his life -- fifteen of the razor strop and six of the junior cane. He's a mess.) The sheer humiliation he feels begging his younger cousin for permission to pee, permission that Jason doesn't always give him right away, is priceless, and cures him of the arrogance rather quickly. It also makes for some interesting changes to their relationship. Not enough changes to please Jason, however.

"He's just not very respectful to me," Jason says, one day, after I've beaten him (Jason) fairly severely with a flogger. He's still sniffing.

"Okay. So, what do you think we should do about that?"

"I don't know," he says, with some frustration.

"Well, why don't YOU punish him."




"Dunno. You could spank him, or something more...umm...focused."

He thinks for a couple of minutes, and then smiles. "Will you be there with me?"

"If you want me to be. Sure."

"I just think I'll need a voice of authority."

"Okay. What have you got in mind?"

He grins. "An enema."

I chuckle. "Yeah. That's fairly focused."

Two days later, Friday, 2pm, Kenny comes down the stairs to the basement, and is surprised to find Jason waiting for him. Jason has never been present for one of Kenny's punishment sessions. I sit in the corner, impassive. Jason has everything prepared, a full enema bag hanging from the IV stand, nozzle attached. Everything's ready.

"'Sup," Kenny asks?

"I'll be administering the punishment today. You need to learn to respect me, to treat me like something other than your stupid younger cousin, something other than your benefactor's boy-toy."

Wow. I had no idea these feelings were as strong as they are. Kenny didn't either. Jason is angry.

Kenny looks surprised, and then looks at me. I nod. He looks at his feet. "I'm sorry, Jason. I didn't know..." He pauses. "I'm sorry, Jason, that I've treated you that way."

He walks to the punishment table, spreading himself out on his belly, like usual.

"Flip over," Jason commands.

Kenny looks surprised, but does as he's told, and Jason straps him into place. Then, taking a bottle of lube, he greases the enema nozzle and slides it into Kenny's anus. Kenny begins to thrash a bit. "What the..."

Jason slaps his face. "Shut up."

Kenny does, looking surprised and a little hurt. Jason pumps up the inner balloon of the nozzle, and, like most males, Kenny goes almost instantly hard as the balloon presses against his prostate. Next he inflates the outer balloon, which pulls the inner balloon firmly against his sphincter. All of this Kenny observes in the mirror above the table, mortified.

Finally, Jason releases the water. We discussed how to do all this last night. I've given Jason several enemas, but I don't think he's ever really paid attention to the process. He's always been concentrating too much on his emotions, which is exactly what you want the sub to do. A painful punishment enema enters the body in a gush, often with soap to aid in the cramping. I don't know that Kenny has ever had an enema before, so I suggested that this be a `no-additive' enema. It's a gallon of water, so it'll cramp plenty, believe me. It's also cold water. This will not be pleasant. After two minutes, Kenny begins to thrash, crying out, begging for release. "Please, Jason, please, I'm sorry. Please let it out." His belly is rotund, and his dick is hard, and the icing on the cake: Jason attaches a couple of nipple clamps, which cause Kenny to scream.

"We'll be back in 45 minutes, Kenny. Deal with it."

Kenny is crying as we leave the basement, pleading for us not to leave him like this. We move to the living room, and turn on the monitor. Basically everything that happens in the basement is monitored, including this. Kenny is sobbing, weeping, begging for someone to come back and help him, but he's all alone, his nipples white, bloodless. After 25 minutes, I'm feeling sorry for the boy, who is still wailing.

"People face these things in different ways, Jason. I think I should go help him."

Jason looks at me, and smiles. "It should probably be me, Tim. I'm the one he has no respect for."

I nod, and Jason goes back to the basement, and I watch him on the monitor.

"It's only been 25 minutes, Kenny. Had enough?"

"Please Jason. I'm so sorry. I've always respected you, but, you're right, I didn't show it very well. I love you, though. I'll try to do better."

Jason bends down and kisses Kenny, a lingering kiss that Kenny returns.

Then he loosens the straps, deflates the enema nozzle and removes it, and motions Kenny to the toilet in the corner. "Don't touch the nipple clamps," he says. Kenny runs to the toilet, mortified at this very intimate exposure, but can't help himself. He erupts. He remains there for maybe 15 minutes, draining, and then finally wipes himself. "Thank you, cousin," he says, weakly, hugging Jason."

"Please be a better cousin," Jason says.

Looking embarrassed, ashamed. "I'll try," Kenny responds, looking into Jason's eyes. "I'm sorry."

Jason smiles, and they hug. "Thank you," Jason whispers.

I've long since gone to bed when Jason snuggles in front of me, facing me. I reach out and hug him, and we kiss. And then the bedclothes behind me are lifted, and Kenny spoons up against me, hugging me tight. I giggle, and Jason giggles, and then Kenny starts to kiss my back, giggling. If Jason okay with this, I certainly am. I reach back and stroke Kenny's erection, which is poking me in the thigh. He gasps, and then giggles. And then I fall asleep, both my boys attached to me. Idyllic.


Five days later. About 3:30pm. I've been working straight for the last three hours, since lunch. I wander into the kitchen for a cup of coffee, and find Jason red-faced, angry, and Kenny close to tears. Jason is berating his cousin in Cantonese, and Kenny is taking it in, looking at his feet.

"What's going on," I ask.

Jason looks at me, angry. "He forgot to take my suit to the cleaners."

There is a revival of Albee's "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" playing in San Francisco to sold-out crowds. I was able to get tickets months ago, but that was before Kenny, so I only have two tickets. I'm taking Jason. I talked to Kenny about it, and he understood instantly. I'd love to take him, too, but I only have two tickets. He's a sweet boy, and has been working really hard around the house while holding down his Nordstrom's gig, and when he leaves the house for work, he is just too cute, dressed in a suit, pressed white shirt, tie. He works in the menswear department. He's a hard worker, and works just as hard at home, and, right now, I'm thinking too hard. The last couple of weeks I've watched Jason slowly transfer a number of his responsibilities to Kenny: ironing, laundry, a lot of the cooking, vacuuming. It hadn't really registered until now. Jason, on the other hand, has been spending a lot of his days on the computer, gaming.

Looking from Jason to Kenny, I realize that Kenny has taken really well to his houseboy role. He's learned to submit very well, but I'm not sure this has been good for Jason. His mastery of his older cousin has made him rather bossy, and a bit...what...arrogant, Kenny's former sin. It's as though they've exchanged roles.

"Why is taking your suit to the cleaners his job," I ask, testing the waters?

Jason looks surprised, and then gets defensive. "Because I assigned it to him."

"Along with the vacuuming, cooking, cleaning, laundry, ironing, and dusting?"

Jason gives me a long look. "Yes."

I fire back, almost instantly: "What do you do?"

Jason sees where this is going. "You said I should delegate."

"I didn't say you should delegate everything. It sounds like you have. Maybe I was wrong to suggest that you take charge of Kenny."

Kenny tries to interject. "It's okay, Tim. I did agree to do it."

"I'm not sure it is okay, Kenny. It seems like you've got all of Jason's duties while holding down a full-time job and adding to our collective coffers. What do you contribute, Jason?"

Jason has begun to tear up. "I cook. I..."

"I haven't seen you cook recently. It's been all Kenny. What do you do?"

I'm breaking through. "I...umm...am...am learning to write games."

"How does that help me? How does that help Kenny?"

Kenny is absolutely still, looking at his feet, looking ashamed. And Jason is now crying.

"Doesn't look to me like you're treating him very well, either."

Jason, in a whisper. "No."

Long pause while I look from Kenny to Jason, and then back to Kenny. "Kenny, I want you showered and down here at 4:30 dressed in a suit, clean shirt and a tie. Wear your Kenneth Cole slip-ons. That pink shirt is nice, and maybe the lavender-striped tie."

He looks at me, a little misty-eyed. "It's 3:30 now. Go get ready."

He leaves the room.

I'm angry with Jason, and he knows it. He's sobbing. I walk over to him, and lift his chin, wiping his eyes with my thumbs. That does little good, because he's sobbing. "Open your eyes and look at me," I command. He does, releasing more tears.

"You haven't been very nice to Kenny, have you?"

Sobbing. "No."

"Yet, you wanted him here. You asked me to take him in. Didn't you?"

Still sobbing. "Yes."

"Should I throw him out?"

"No, please," he begs. "Please don't do that. I'm sorry."

"Shut up, Jason." He looks at me, shocked. I've never been this forceful with him.

"You're staying home tonight. I'm disgusted with you, quite frankly. You've seriously disappointed me. I ask you to lead Kenny, and you've abused him, berated him. He's a sensitive boy, Jason." He's sobbing. "I ask you to help me lead him into submission, and you assign him all of your chores and go off and play video games. That's right, isn't it?"

Long pause, sobbing. "Yes," he wails.

"You're staying home tonight. I'm taking Kenny to the play. Not you. I'll expect you to sleep on the punishment table tonight. I don't want you in my bed. I'll expect breakfast promptly at 7am tomorrow; I'll expect you to make it, not Kenny; and we'll deal with your punishment tomorrow at the usual time. I think Kenny's entitled to a little pleasure tonight, don't you?"

Wailing. "Yes... I'm sorry Tim."

"For what?"

Long pause. "For mistreating Kenny. For being too stupid to realize that I was treating him the same way I felt he'd treated me. For letting you down."

I kiss him on the forehead. He's gotten it. "You can tell him that tomorrow yourself. You're staying home tonight, Jason. In bed on the punishment table by 9pm. You know where the blankets are. I'm very disappointed in you," shaking my head, "very disappointed."

He's sobbing when I leave him, and misty when Kenny and I leave the house. Kenny is sad for Jason, hugs him, but the decision about who's going and who's staying is mine. He has nothing to do with this, and he's excited to see the play. I don't' think he's ever seen live theater before.

I really don't want to be late, and we're a little tight for time, with a 7:30 curtain call. "How hungry are you," I ask Kenny, as we drive to the city.

"Not very."

"Could you wait until 10:30? Could you wait for dinner until after the play?"

"Oh, yeah. Not a problem." He smiles.

He is so cute, and looks so gay in this outfit. So pretty in pink.

"Tim, I really don't blame Jason. He treats me okay." He smiles wanly. "It won't last forever. I won't be here forever."

"No he doesn't," I respond sternly, wiping the smile off his face. "He treats you badly, and it's going to stop. It's my fault. I was stupid. You don't put one sub in charge of another. Very stupid. My fault." I glance over at this very cute boy. "Kenny, when you come into my house, I consider you my property, and my responsibility. You're mine to punish, but you're also mine to care for. I'm a little irritated at you, frankly, for not having brought this situation to my attention." I frown at him, and he looks at his cuffs, "but I'm much more irritated with myself at not having adequately outlined the ground rules."

I'm tearing up a bit, but not badly. "Jason was way out of line, as you were early on. But Jason knows better."

Long pause. "You need to know something, Kenny."

He looks at me, but I'm not ready to go on, not quite in control of my emotions. It takes me several minutes to continue.

Finally, "You need to know that I...umm...love you...too."

Kenny starts to cry.

Regaining control. "Frankly, I've treated you pretty shoddily, too. I'm pretty ashamed of myself. You're so sweet." I glance over, and peck him on the cheek. "I'm married to Jason, and love him dearly, but I also love you...dearly. You're beautiful, sweet, and...and...I don't want you to leave us. Please don't leave us over this." I look at him, imploring him.

He shakes his head. Through his sobs: "I...not..going...where..."

I reach over and squeeze the back of his neck. "This sub-of-a-sub thing isn't working."

"Tim, it's okay," he pleads.

"It's not. When we get home, we're going to sit, the three of us, and work this out. You need to have specific responsibilities. I want you with us." Kenny sniffs, tearing up afresh. "And Jason wants you with us. Not knowing what I was going to do, he begged me not to do anything...rash." He's sniffing, now. "He loves you, Kenny. Jason doesn't always know how to show that very well, but we'll work through that." I find myself echoing Jason's words, many moons ago: "Please don't give up on us, Kenny."

He's sniffing furiously, trying to control the snot. He smiles at me, reached over and kisses me. Maybe this has been a success.


The play is certainly a success, as I said. Diana Rigg (of "Avengers" fame) and David Suchet. How the hell did San Francisco attract this caliber of acting. Kenny has no idea who these people are, and I have to explain the cast, explain the history of this play, explain the story. He doesn't get out much, but is stunned by the play itself. Albee is very intense. Very intense. And "Virginia Woolf" may be his most intense, second only to "Tiny Alice," perhaps. This is gay night, which gives us (staggeringly) the privilege to meet the cast. Can you imagine meeting fucking Dame Diana Rigg in person? I gush. I gush way too much. She smiles, indulgently. She must get this all the time. She is just so good. She's Diana fucking Rigg. I saw her in "King Lear" once, years ago, and have been talking about it ever since. And, then, of course, Peter Hall's "A Midsummer Night's Dream." Kenny gets a sense from me of what an honor this is, of how moved I am to meet her. This is acting royalty. I have a very hard time keeping it together.

We chat for several minutes, and her stomach growls. She giggles. "Have you eaten," she asks in that perfect BBC English accent.

I stammer. "No. We were planning to go foraging after the play."

"Yes," she says. "I can never eat before a performance. Gives me gas." She laughs again. "Will you join me?"

Kenny props me up. I cannot fucking believe that Dame Diana Rigg has just asked us to dinner, but ask us she has and we end up at Max's Opera Café on Van Ness. She has a pastrami sandwich, and Kenny and I split half a corned-beef sandwich and a bowl of cabbage soup. She is absolutely enchanting, talking as if she were not acting royalty. She talks about doing Lear with Paul Scofield, and with Olivier, about working with Oliver Reed and Peter Hall, about working with Chayefsky and George C. Scott (who I personally detest) on "The Hospital" And then she and Kenny get into a discussion of the Albee play, and I am just blown away. He's a little timid at first, but after a few minutes they get into it, talking about motivation, the latent pain that Martha must feel, the inferiority of being barren. And then he says it, and my jaw drops: "It's as though these are gay men."

She doesn't pause for an instant, but laughs a bit. "Well, that's always been the theory. Albee's gay. Did you know that?"

"No," Kenny responds.

She looks at me and smiles, and then looks back to Kenny, and they're off and running.

Two hours later, we're headed back to San Jose. We have spoken with royalty. I was so mesmerized I could barely move, and he was just chatting with a friend.

I'm quiet for a while. After about 15 minutes, I just can't contain myself anymore. "Do you realize you just had dinner with one of the greatest actresses of her generation?"

Kenny grins. "Yeah, I got that half way through the play."

"Do you realize that you've seen one of the most interesting and seminal plays of the 20th century acted by one of the greatest actresses of her generation, and then had fucking dinner with her?"

"Yeah. Umm...that was nice."

I cuff him. He's laughing hysterically. I'm laughing hysterically. I scream "I had dinner with fucking Dame Diana Rigg."

"She's very...what...regal, isn't she?"

"Patrician," I respond.

He looks confused, then amused. "Oooohhh. I'm gonna hafta look that one up."

"You realize that she threw her first husbands luggage out of the hotel window? I think he was Italian. Sixth story I believe. She was pissed. She's probably not an easy woman to live with." I giggle

Kenny is wide-eyed.

We get home at around 12:30am. Kenny goes to his room, sheds his clothes, and comes to the living room where we have a last glass of wine, Kenny sitting on my lap. We kiss briefly, and finally head to our bedrooms.

"Join me," I say.

This is not usual; Jason's sleeping on the punishment table tonight. I don't want to sleep alone. Kenny is surprised, but comes into my bedroom as I strip. He looks confused. "Umm...Tim...may I ask...where's Jason?"

"He's downstairs. He's being punished."

He looks at me sadly, and a tear begins to well in his right eye. He wipes it away, but it comes back. "Umm...Tim...can I...go and get him...please?" He's still tearing up.

"He didn't treat you very well, Kenny."

Kenny hangs his head. "I know. But he's my cousin. I love him. He didn't get to do any of what we did tonight, and he'll get punished tomorrow, right?"


He looks at me, pleading. "Please, Tim, can I go get him?"

Kenny will melt your heart, looking at you with those puppy-dog eyes. I'd resolved to be obdurate, but that resolve melts. "Okay. Go get him."

Not three minutes later, Kenny is back with a tearful Jason in tow. Once again, the order is Jason, me, and Kenny, all spooned, Jason sobbing, hugging me for dear life.

"I'm sorry," he whispers -- to both Kenny and me.

Published first at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Nemo-stories/