WARNING

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.

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Chapter 5

At 10am, roughly, we wake up, still locked in an embrace. I actually think that Jason has been awake for awhile, but he hasn't moved. He's warm and very comfortable, clinging to me tenaciously. I kiss him, and he smiles sort of meekly, but seems exhausted. "You okay?"

"I think so. I was pretty freaked last night."

"Umm, yeah. I know." I giggle. He giggles, too.

"You look tired."

"I am tired, but I can't sleep any more. Can't get back to sleep. I think mostly I'm just sad." Long pause. "I'm sorry I brought you into this."

After several seconds, I reply, "I'm not." Pause. "Never be ashamed, Jason. It's a really destructive emotion."

He smiles. "Could you fuck me now?"

I giggle...and that's what we do, with aplomb, with abandon, like rabbits, for nearly an hour and a half. By the time we're done, Jason has fallen asleep again, which is exactly where I want him to be. I go off and work on my game.

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Three hours later there's a knock on my office door. "Come in."

"I'm sorry. I know we agreed I wouldn't disturb you when you're working."

"I think we're going to probably have to revise that rule."

He smiles. "Lunch is ready."

I look at him, lost, and then at my computer clock. It's 1pm. I've forgotten to eat.

"I'm sorry it's late," he says, staring at his feet. "I was asleep."

"Well," I say, mock-gruffly, "that will deserve punishment."

He giggles. "I was sort of hoping so."

Walking to the kitchen, the smells are amazing. He hasn't made lunch; he's cooked a dinner. On Choy stir-fried with flank steak over rice with black-bean sauce, tofu in some kind of Thai sauce with mushrooms. Very yummy.

"Wow. Jason, you've outdone yourself."

He beams.

I reach over and kiss him, casually, and he attaches himself to me again, kissing me passionately. "I'm so sorry," he says, breaking the kiss. "But thank you. I feel better now."

He's adorable. "Good. So, you feel good enough to go to a party this evening?"

His eyes light up. "Yes, please..."

"Great. I'd already committed to this two months ago, before I even knew you. A friend, Keith, is having a fund-raiser for the ASPCA. They have four cats and a rabbit..."

"They?"

"Oh, yeah, Keith is coupled with Gene. Do you like animals?"

"I love animals, but my parents wouldn't let us have any when we got to the states. We had a cat and several chickens in Vietnam, but when we got here, they wouldn't let me have any pets. I think they thought pets were somehow...provincial."

Well, maybe we'll have to get some. I don't have pets because, for a while, I was traveling so much that I couldn't take care of them. For a while I had a cat, but she ended up spending so much time with a friend of mine, due to the travel, that she essentially became my friend's cat. They bonded, and I just left her there.

So, tonight is intended to raise money for the protection of animals. Should be fun. You'll meet a lot of people, that's for sure. I know Gary and Nathan will be there.

Jason smiles. "Cool. I really like Nathan."

"Yup. Before we get ready for that, though, there's somewhere else we need to go. Go get dresses. Jeans and a t are fine. I'll meet you in the entryway."

Five minutes later, we're both dress and leave the house in my car. I drive us to Westfields, which is actually only about three minutes away. I park, and we walk to the Nordstrom entrance, and then to the menswear section. I'm looking for a suit for Jason. The San Francisco symphony is going to be performing Shostakovich's fifth symphony in three weeks, and I have two tickets, and while we could go in jeans if we wanted to, I'm thinking we'll make an evening out of it, an elegant evening.

Sorting through the suits in his size, I find a really beautiful dark green sort of silky fabric. It's very good against his skin. I hand it to him and point to the fitting rooms. "Go try it on."

He looks confused, but does as he's told, emerging maybe three minutes later. Very nice, but It's going to need tailoring, of course. I motion to the sales guy that's been eyeing us hungrily since we arrived. I like Nordstrom's because they know that many of their customers are salesman-phobic, like me. They leave you along until you send for them, and then they come at warp speed.

"Can I help you, sir?"

"Yeah. We're going to buy this suit, but it'll need tailoring."

The sales guy stands back and appraises Jason. "Yes it will. This is one of our new silk blends. Very durable. It's a really good color for you. Let me get the tailor. If you'll follow me, gentlemen."

He leads us to the fitting area, asks Jason to stand in front of the mirror, gives him a pair of dress shoes to put on so they can get the length right, and goes to the back, returning with a Hispanic guy. I'm not sure why, but in my experience, Hispanic guys make incredibly good tailors. I say that with some embarrassment, because it sounds a bit racist, but I've had amazingly good luck with Hispanic tailors. They seem to know just what to do to make clothing fit perfectly. This guy is no exception.

The sales guy and I stand back and watch as Jason gets fitted, and I have to chuckle as he looks from Jason, to me, and back to Jason. You can see the wheels turning. He's asking himself why this Caucasian guy is here with this Asian boy, clearly a good deal younger. It could be father and son adoption but when Jason speaks with the tailor, the accent is there. Unlikely a father and son. He's struggling to figure out who he should be talking to who's got the money? Finally, making the decision, he turns to me. "Will he need any accessories? Shirts, shoes, socks?"

"He'll need all that," I reply as Jason, finished with the fitting, walks over to us. I decide I'm going to mess with this sales guy just a bit. I wink at Jason, and reach behind him, pulling him to me from the back of his neck. "You look really hot," I say, and lean down, kissing him on the lips, a public display of affection that made him very angry the last time I did it. This time he doesn't flinch, but instead kisses me back.

"Thanks," he says in a husky voice as we break the kiss.

The sales guy, to my amazement, doesn't miss a beat. He smiles and says "That really does look great on you," and I realize instantly that he's gay. I should have known before. Stupid!

The three of us smile in unison.

"So," he says, "shirts..."

"White. Broadcloth. Button-down collar."

"Any particular brand?"

"Not particular. Something nice."

"Size?"

I look at Jason. "I'd guess 15/32."

He looks at Jason. "I think you're right. Let's start with that."

Jason goes back to the fitting room to take off the suit while the sales guy goes and picks out a shirt. Returning to the fitting room, he hands me the shirt he's picked, and I drag Jason out of the fitting room, clad only in his briefs. He's embarrassed. Gives me a look, ready to say something. I give him a "don't-fuck-with-me" look and he censors himself. The sales guy smiles, repressing laughter. Jason is on display to the mothers and their children that walk by, whispering. He hates this. Finally, I get the last pin out of the shirt, and hand it to him to try on. It fits perfectly, and looks really good. Very tailored fit.

He takes off the shirt, and I hand it back to the sales guy. "We'll need another one of these. And sox."

I grab Jason by the hand and drag him to the sox section, still dressed only in his briefs. He's pissed now. We're no longer isolated in the back of the store; I've forced him into a main isle, a thoroughfare.

We select a couple pairs of sox and a tie. It takes us ten minutes.

"Go get dressed," I tell him, and he bolts to the fitting room. I smile at the sales guy who has a broad smirk on his face. I look down at the floor and start to laugh. He chuckles.

"Fairly new relationship," he asks?

"A couple of weeks."

He smiles. Laughs. "He doesn't seem to know what you expect of him, yet."

"He will." I chuckle. And he laughs outright.

"Let me ring this stuff up," he says, moving to a register, giggling.

Jason emerges from the fitting room, dressed as he was when we came in. The sales guy smiles at him as he comes to the counter. That's $1647.86 on your Visa. Would you like to open a Nordstrom's account?"

"No. I have too many damned cards now. Let's just go with the Visa."

He smiles, swipes my card, winks at Jason, and we're on our way. "The suit will be ready next Monday, he assures us."

Jason is aghast. "$1600?"

"No. $1647.86. If you're going to round, it would be $1650."

He can tell by the edge in my voice that I'm pissed. He stares at his shoes. "I didn't handle that all that well, did I?"

"Which part?"

"Any of it."

I look at him. "You handled the kiss part very well. After that, it was down-hill."

He looks sad.

I stop, looking at him. "Jason, if I want to parade you stark naked in front of HP Pavilion in the middle of a fucking rock concert, I will. That's the job."

He's staring at his shoes.

"Who's in charge here?"

Whining. "You are."

"What does that mean?"

Quietly. "That you own my body."

"Is that what you want?"

"Yes."

I lift his chin so he's looking me in the eye, drawing the attention of countless shoppers. "Is that what you want?"

A tear rolls down his cheek. "Yes."

I kiss him, here in the middle of the mall, hundreds of people wandering by, a long, lingering kiss, while caressing his plumbing dick. Pulling back, "Is that what you want?"

"Yes, that's what I want," he sniffles.

"Then, next time, act like it. You WILL be punished for this. I expect you to get it together. This is an ongoing problem. I expect you to submit to me. I don't care how embarrassing it is; I don't care how much it hurts. I expect you to submit. That's all you need to do."

He begins to cry, here, in the middle of the mall. He's making a spectacle, which is also what I want. "I'm sorry, he whines."

"Don't be sorry. Stop trying to make these decisions for yourself. Your body is mine. These are my decisions."

He's sobbing, unabashedly sobbing. "I'm so sorry."

I hug him as we walk to the car and drive home. This boy has a lot to learn.

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Punishment before we leave for the party, but spankings aren't working very well. I think it's time to try something else. When Jason has showered, I have him come to my bedroom. "We're going to do punishment tomorrow. To remind you that that's coming, we're going to fill you with a little stainless steel." I bend him over the bed, and insert the first of two stainless-steel eggs into his rectum. After a few minutes, I thread the second egg onto the string and work it into him. He gasps. That second egg is nearly two inches in diameter. We had to work a bit to get it into him. This is two pounds of steel, bouncing against both his sphincter and his prostate with every step he takes. He's already hard.

"Please don't make me go out like this."

"I don't seem to be able to get your fucking attention, Jason. Maybe this will. These aren't coming out tonight. You're going to walk with them, sit with them, ride with them, and sleep with them. Get use to them. You need to learn to submit."

He gives me a long, sad look.

"Do you want to go home?"

He starts to cry. "No. I am home."

"Exactly. Then take it. You're being punished. Get used to it. And don't let those fall out, or your punishment will be much worse."

He continues to cry for a bit, putting on his underwear and jeans. Once dressed, he is so cute. And he cringes with every step. How cute is that?"

The party is a blast. Gary and Nathan are there, Keith and Gene, and several other friends. Jason and Nathan are thick-as-thieves, chattering away in Cantonese. I can imagine the conversation, as they sit on a coach, Jason wriggling, trying to get comfortable.

Chatting with Gary, I describe the problem I'm having with Jason.

"It doesn't sound like he's willfully disobedient. It sounds like he's just not used to thinking like a sub. The steel eggs are a great idea. Keep him focused on his submission. Maybe we can get Nathan to help him. Give him some advice."

"It looks like that's what's happening now," I reply, smiling, watching Nathan and Jason chatting, Jason squirming, Nathan patting his arm.

"Probably. I'll ask him later. By the way, would you consider a slightly more...public...punishment, allowing the boys to watch each other's punishments? There's a humiliation factor involved, but maybe Nathan, who's been submissive for a lot longer than Jason, can actually model behavior for him."

"That's an idea. You know, Jason hates public displays. They're the ultimate punishment for him." I tell him about kissing him in the parking lot and about picking out sox at Nordstrom's. He chuckles.

"Nathan's the same way. I think it's an Asian thing. My first master tied me to the fence in front of our house stark naked. The passersby got quite a show. I was mortified. It did get me over some of the embarrassment, though. If nothing else, everyone in the neighborhood had already seen what I had." He laughs. "It wasn't so much the exposure though. It just made me realize that nudity, public exposure, was a problem for me, and that my master would exploit it as punishment as long as it continued to be a problem for me. I needed to get over it. Nathan hasn't gotten over it," he says with a chuckle, "so it's still very effective."

I laugh. "I don't think Jason's ready to be tied naked to a fence, but your idea is interesting. Having someone else watch your punishment, especially a friend, is embarrassing. There is a humiliation factor, as you say, but there's also an opportunity to bond, especially if your friend, then, is punished. When do you next plan to punish Nathan?"

"Day after tomorrow is his punishment day."

I smile. "Perfect."

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The following day, at 1:30pm, Gary and Nathan come over, through the back gate, and make their way down to the basement. They sit in chairs against the back well, in clear view of the punishment table. Gary explains what was going to happen, and Nathan looks sad, but nods.

At 2pm, our regular punishment time, Jason makes his way downstairs. He's shocked to find Gary and Nathan there, fully clothed, of course. Jason is, as always, naked, and very embarrassed. I told him this would happen, that he'd be naked in our home in front of others. This is the first time, though, and he's flushed, mortified, trying to figure out what to do.

I come down behind him. "Up on the table, Jason." He jumps. I've startled him. He turns and looks at me, crying softly. "On your back this time."

He looks suddenly very apprehensive because he has no idea what's going to happen. We've gotten into a routine of spankings, but he's clearly not going to be spanked. It's time for something new.

Reluctantly, he hoists himself onto the table and lays down, staring at himself in the mirror above. We did our shaving ritual this morning, so his body is completely hairless. I strap him in place, spreading his legs so I have access to his asshole. Then, I move to the sink and collect the equipment.

This will be Jason's first enema, something he told me intrigued him. I don't think he thought he'd be getting it front of an audience. He'll get a gallon of plain, lukewarm water, a large enema, but with no additives to induce cramping although I predict he'll cramp anyway. And, he's going to have to hold this enema for 45 minutes.

Filling the enema bag, I clamp off the hose and hang it from an IV cart. I attach a double Bardex nozzle, lube the nozzle, and roll the cart over to the table.

"I was really disappointed yesterday," I tell him. "I thought you were ready to submit, but that sure wasn't the case."

He's crying again.

"Are you ready to submit now?"

He nods, and chokes out a "Yes."

I insert the nozzle into his rectum and pump up the inner balloon. This usually causes an erection as the balloon presses against the prostate. He gasps, watching his dick get hard in the mirror above, and watching Gary and Nathan, also visible in the mirror, watch his dick get hard.

Next, I pump up the outer balloon, which tugs at the inner balloon, causing a very effective seal, and even more pressure on the prostate. He will not be expelling any of this enema until I allow him to.

"You'll hold this enema for 45 minutes, Jason. Tell me when to begin."

He's still crying. "Please...Tim...please...begin..."

I release the clamp, and the water begins to gush into him, emptying the bag very quickly. His belly is distended, and he's squirming, clearly cramping, sobbing.

"45 minutes, Jason. I'll be back in 45 minutes."

Gary gets up from his chair and the two of us go upstairs to watch this on the monitor in the living room.

Nathan stays behind, looking embarrassed, sheepish. After a couple of minutes, he gets up, and moves to the punishment table where he begins talking softly to Jason in Cantonese, stroking his hair, stroking his belly, trying to console my weeping houseboy. Jason says something, and Nathan recoils a bit, surprised. "I cannot," he says in English, moving back into Cantonese, explaining why, I presume, that he can't help Jason. He continues to stroke him, though, and to try to comfort him, but Jason is clearly in a fair amount of pain, though still erect.

Enema's are mysterious things. They can cause a great deal of pain, and a great deal of pleasure at the same time. They cramp your guts, and give you a hardon simultaneously. That's why they make such exquisite punishment.

At the 35 minute mark, Gary and I return to the basement. Jason has never stopped crying, and Nathan has never stopped trying to comfort him. Nathan returns to his chair, next to Gary, and I take out a bottle of lube, squirt some into the palm of my hand and begin to stroke Jason's raging cock. He gasps and hisses. He is clearly mortified to be this excited in front of others, but after about eight minutes, he's right on the edge. I stop stroking him, and he begins to sob again.

"Please...please...please don't...stop. Please...Tim...please...let me cum."

Gary smiles. I smile. Nathan giggles.

"Please!"

I start stroking him again, and he blows almost immediately, his eyes painfully crunched shut, moaning and screaming. When he's finished, I release the restraints, deflate the Bardex nozzle, pull it out of him, and motion him to the toilet in the corner. He's beat red, but runs to it and releases a torrent of shit, remaining there for probably ten minutes as the enema slowly drains out of him. During that time, Gary and Nathan leave, Nathan waving his goodbye, Jason smiling weakly.

Returning to Jason. "You done?"

He nods, his eyes red and swollen. He stands up, and I wipe his ass, treating him like a small child. This surprises him, but he allows it without protest. Lifting him in my arms, I carry him to the tub in our bedroom, bathe him, towel him dry, and put him to bed. He's clearly exhausted.

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