This story details explicit gay sex between men, teens and boys. If you find this kind of thing distasteful, or if you are underage wherever 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 58

By: Tim Keppler

Dinh fascinates me, and both Kenny and Jason know it. It's hard for me to hide it. I've been concerned about how far to go with him one on one. I don't want to jeopardize my relationship with either of Kenny and Jason. I love them too much for that. But I love Dinh, too, and he has needs that differ from those of Kenny and Jason. Specifically, he's by far the most sexually adventurous of the three, and is truly submissive. It's not something he had to learn, like Jason did. He's the real thing. As such, he's been a bit frustrated with me because I don't dominate him enough. Gary knew about this need, I think, based on some things that Nathan's told me. He knew that Dinh needs special handling, and he and Nathan had agreed that Gary could provide that. I need to talk to Kenny and Jason to be sure that they'll be okay with my moving forward more aggressively with Dinh.

So, I invite them for a walk before dinner. It's Dinh's night to cook, so he's busy in the kitchen. We head over to the Rose Garden. Just as I'm about to begin the discussion, Kenny beats me to it. "Is this about Dinh?"

"How'd you know?"

"Well, he's not here. The timing of this walk is a little too convenient. And, I know he's been a little...unhappy."

"With me?"


"He said that?"

"He implied it."

"Do you know why?"

"Sort of. Dinh really needs to feel...subservient. Not to us, but to you. He doesn't feel that way. I mean, yes, you spank him regularly, but he needs something more than that, and his happiness really seems to depend on it. Nathan mentioned a while back that Gary had been surprised at how much...attention Dinh needs. He likes to be spanked, but for really different reasons than Jason and me. He wants to feel that you're in control and that he's not. It's almost as if he wants a father to take care of him. He wants to feel...'small.' He wants to feel like a child, and given his background, that makes some sense. Jason sort of wants that too, but not to the extent Dinh does. That's right, isn't it?" he asks, looking at Jason.

"Yeah, sort of. I'm not very good at being...in charge. I don't really like it. I'm not a very good manager. That's the one issue I have as Concertmaster. I'm a good musician, I think, but I'm not a great leader. Luckily, I have a group of musicians that don't really need `leadership' in the traditional sense of the term. They need more...direction. Kenny's right about Dinh. He's very needy. He needs more aggressive...guidance, and he needs it more often. If we want to keep him with us, and we do, I do...umm...you're going to have to step up to that."

"Well, that's what I wanted to ask. If I do that, I'm going to be spending more time with him than maybe I am with you. Are you okay with that?"

"Tim, we know you love us. You show us that all the time in ways that we understand. We aren't nervous about your devotion to us, are we?" he asks, looking at Kenny.

"No. We know how you feel. We also know that Dinh needs something more than he's getting to make him feel...secure, to make him feel loved. Jase and I have already talked about this, and if you hadn't come to us about this, we'd have come to you. Give him what he needs. We want you to. You have our permission," he concludes, solemnly.

I nod. "Okay. We'll start that tomorrow."

Tomorrow is Thursday, the usual day for Dinh's spanking. He has two classes of his own on Thursdays, and two classes for Kenny. He typically leaves the house at around 9am. At 8am, just as he's getting out of the shower, I meet him in the bathroom. He's toweling dry. I look him over, and run my hand over his pubic area. It's quite stubbly. That's the only body hair he has, but it's not especially smooth down there. "You haven't been especially conscientious about your grooming, have you?"

He looks up at me, surprised and confused. "Umm..."

"Stand up on the toilet seat, Dinh," I say, taking the towel from him. He does. I grab a can of shaving cream from the medicine cabinet and a disposable razor. I soap him up, and shave him, manipulating his penis along the way. By the time I'm done, he's both smooth and hard. "Feel it. Run your hand over it." He does. "That's what it's supposed to feel like. I want you to keep it that way. If you have to shave twice a day, that's what you need to do to keep it that way. Understand?" I ask, harshly.

He gulps, and nods.

"Follow me," I order. I take him to the bedroom, and pull a harness and a sizeable dildo from the dresser. I strap the harness around his waist, lube the dildo, and tell him to bend over. He does, and I slowly insert the dildo. This is bigger than anything he's had inside him in a while. It's certainly bigger than me. As it slides into place, he hisses softly from the pain. Then I have him stand, and strap the harness between his legs, securing the dildo into place. "Come back here at 5:30pm tonight and I'll take it out of you. If it has to come out before then because you have to use the bathroom, only Kenny can remove it. If Kenny's not around, you're in trouble. Kenny and I have talked, by the way, and he's not sure he wants to remove it. You may have to negotiate the terms of its removal. Once you've used the toilet, it needs to go back in and Kenny needs to be the one to reinsert it. It must not be out of you for more than five minutes today, and you are not to touch it. Is that clear?"

Dinh nods, squirming awkwardly, trying to accommodate the dildo. When Kenny and Jason did this to me, I found I had a perpetual hardon, and so does Dinh. He's going to be challenged to think about anything other than this dildo and his hard-on for the remainder of the day. It'll be interesting to hear how his classes go, and especially his office hours with Kenny. "Punishment will be at 5:30pm, once the dildo comes out. Meet me in the basement at 5:30pm, and we'll continue."

Dinh nods, and leave the room, walking awkwardly.

Kenny and Dinh get home from school at around 5:15pm. Dinh is clearly very uncomfortable, and makes his way immediately to the basement. I meet Kenny in the kitchen on my way to the basement, and he giggles. "It came out at 11:15am. We'd gone to the health club across from the University. He said he really had to go to the bathroom. I told him that was fine, that I'd take it out for him, but only in the locker room area adjacent to the restroom. Two guys watched Dihn strip off his trunks and shorts, and then watched me unfasten the harness and remove the dildo. I gave him a count down so that it was very obvious that he only had a fixed number of minutes to...umm...use the toilet. And, then he came back out, more crimson than I've ever seen him. I'd washed off the dildo while he was in the stall. I motioned him to bend over one of the sinks, made quite a show of lubing the thing, and then reinserted it and reattached the harness. Those guys got quite a show." I have to laugh.

Moving down the stairs to the basement, I find Dinh standing in the middle of the room looking forlorn. From what Kenny said, he spent most of the day standing. I'm not surprised.

"You still have your clothes on, Dinh. Why is that?"

"Umm...you didn't tell me that I should...umm...could take them off."

"Good boy! Very good answer. Strip!"

He does. He's out of his clothes very quickly, and leaning over the punishment table, making it plain that he really wants me to remove the dildo. I approach him, and run my hand down his back, softly. "How was it?" I ask.

"It was okay," he says, glumly. "But, I'm really not into public humiliation."

"Well, that's good to know," I say, slapping him really hard on the ass. "But, why do I care what you're into. I am into it. I like public humiliation. Yours." And then I stroke his back again. "You ready for that to come out?"

"Yes, please."

I unfasten the harness and remove it, and then I slowly slide the dildo out of him, but at the last second I plunge it back in. I begin fucking him with the dildo and continue that for two or three minutes. He makes not a sound. Finally, I pull it out of him and get him to stand up. Then I move him into the corner where I have a two-quart enema bag filled with warm water. I slide a double Bardex nozzle into him, fill the retaining balloons with air, and open the valve, allowing all that water to fill his gut in a gush. "Don't move, Dinh. Part of the punishment is staying still. If you move, I'll also spank you." He's clearly cramping, clearly having trouble not doubling over from the pain. "You're going to hold that water for half an hour. During that time you will not move and you will not say anything." I move to a chair across the room, well within his line of sight, and sit down. And we wait. After about five minutes he starts to cry, and soon he's sobbing. His belly is so bloated. Dinh is rather petit. This has got to cause him a lot of discomfort, but like most guys with that volume of liquid inside of them, he's hard. After twenty minutes, I move back to Dinh and kneel in front of him. "I'm going to suck your dick now, Dinh. You are not allowed to cum. If you cum, you'll be spanked. Understand?"

"Yes, Tim."

I take his dick in my mouth and do my level best to get him off, to make him disobey me. I spend ten minutes at it, and he holds out, barely, but he makes it.

"Very good, Dinh! You did very well." I stand and kiss him. Then I deflate the enema nozzle and remove it. I lead him to the toilet where he empties his bowels abruptly, and then sits for ten minutes as he continues to drain. Finally he's done, and I wipe his ass for him. (The mission, after all is to make him feel totally dependent.) I give him a hug when he's standing upright. "Now, before dinner, I'm going to take you upstairs and fuck you." I lift him into my arms, and carry him up the stairs, through the kitchen and into the bedroom. I lay him on the bed, shuck my clothes, lube my dick, and enter him in one quick thrust. He is so stretched from the dildo that this can only feel good, and apparently it does, because he begins to thrash his head back and forth. Finally, he looks up at me with an expression of...what?...anguish.

"May I cum, please?" he asks.

I kiss him, a really long and luscious kiss, and then whisper in his ear, "Yes." And almost the instant I say it, he floods his belly, his chest, even his face with cum. I'm right behind him. This is one very-satisfying orgasm, and one that takes both of us many minutes of recovery. Finally, I turn, facing away from him, and he instantly snuggles up to me, wrapping his arms around my chest.

"Thank you, Tim. I love you so much." And then we fall asleep and get an hours nap before dinner.

Mission accomplished, at least for the moment.

Two days later, though, I have the sense that Dinh needs more attention. He's a bit sullen. But, do I need to physically hurt him, or will just an expression of my authority suffice? I decide to try the latter. Christophe and Vijay are coming for dinner tonight, and the boys are staying with Mrs. Leong – just because she wanted to see them, and because it's likely to be a little hectic here. Kenny has wanted to learn to cook Indian food for a long time, and tonight will be his first lesson with Vijay. I've no idea what they're planning to make, but I'm really looking forward to it. I honestly don't remember whether Dinh has met Vijay and Christophe, but even if he has, he doesn't know them well. They're supposed to arrive at 5pm so Vijay can start cooking. And then Jerry and Franz, old friends, are coming at 8pm to help us devour the results of Kenny and Vijay's culinary ministrations.

At 4:30, I ask Dinh to come to my office and sit him down in one of the chairs. "You know that we're having four guests for dinner, right?"

He nods.

"Tonight you're going to be a houseboy. That means you'll greet the guests, help the cooks as a sou-chef, serve the meal, and help with the cleanup. You'll also be responsible for preparing tea after the meal, and serving it in the living room. Okay?"

He nods, and smiles.

"It also means that you'll spend the evening naked."

His smile vanishes, and you see an array of emotions play out on his face. First there's shock, then a moment of anger, then fear, and then...he starts to cry. "Please don't make me do that. Please... I don't want to do that."

"I know you don't, and that's one of the reasons I want you to do it."

"But...I can't do that. I don't know any of these people. Will Kenny and Jason be naked, too?"

"Nope. Just you."

He's sobbing now, choking on tears. "Please...please don't make me do that. I don't want to do that."

"Dinh," I say sternly, "are you submissive or not? You can't just be submissive on alternate Tuesdays, and take control all the rest of the time. Unless that's what you want. If you don't think you want to submit to me anymore, that's okay. I'll still love you. What do you want?"

"I want to submit to you," he whines, "but...umm...can't you spank me or something instead?"

"So, in other words, you want to be submissive, but you want to control how you submit. Does that sound like submission? I decide how you submit. As you've told me many times, you expect me to do anything to you that pleases me, anything I desire. This is what I desire."

"But why this?" he whines.

"Because I know you don't want to do it. That's what submission means. It means sometimes doing things you don't want to do because I want you to. This is one of those times. I want you naked in 15 minutes and ready to greet our guest when they arrive."

He looks into my eyes and nods slowly, having finally stopped crying. I pat my lap, and he comes and sits on it. "This'll be good for you, Dinh. It'll help you learn to submit, which I sense is something you really, really want, right?" He looks at me again and nods, and I hug him. "You'll be fine."

"I'd better get ready," he says, sliding off my lap and moving to the door. He gives me one last, sad look, and leaves me, heading toward our bedroom. I have to admit that I have more compassion for Dinh than I felt for Jason or Kenny when they went through this. But people simply react differently to different demands. Kenny is naturally the least submissive of my three guys, the most able to take care of himself, yet his response to my demand for public nudity was calm resignation. If that's what I wanted, he'd do it. Jason, on the other hand, is far more naturally submissive, and yet he objected mightily. Dinh's acquiescence is relatively swift and painless. He'll be embarrassed for a while, but will get over it. Gary once told me a story about a dominant guy he was dating who, sensing his fear of public nudity, chained him naked to a fence in front of their house and left him there for hours. Dinh's ordeal, at least this first one, will be comparatively benign.

I've warned both Jason and Kenny about what I have planned, but I didn't warn Peter or Erich. I want their surprise to be evident. I want them to gawk a little. That may sound cruel, but Dinh needs to learn to hold his head high even in the face of derision or humiliation. Humiliation requires the psychological participation of the person being humiliated. But if you don't participate, if you're not ashamed of what you do and who you are, humiliation isn't possible. And I really do think that, when this is over, Dinh is going to feel better about himself because he will have faced a fear. He'll also know that he did something I asked him to do that he absolutely didn't want to do. He'll know that he truly submitted to my will. This will be better for him than a spanking or some other form of punishment, because those are things he wants me to do to him. This isn't.

At about 5:10 the doorbell rings. I come out of my office in time to see a naked Dinh open the door. He is deeply flushed, and initially stares at the floor, but then recovers, smiles, albeit wanly, and motions our visitors into the entryway. "You must be Christophe and Vijay. I'm Dinh. I'm Tim's...partner." They all hug. "Can I take your jackets?"

Spying me standing in the office door, Vijay asks, "Am I supposed to be naked, Tim?" I know for a fact that Vijay is naked when he's at home. Christophe likes it that way, but since we've had the boys, we've sort of curtailed nakedness in the home.

"No, that's fine. You're fine the way you are. Kenny and Jason are already in the kitchen. They've been chopping for what seems like hours. I gather you gave them instructions about ingredients." Vijay nods, and makes his way into the kitchen. Having hung up the coats, Dinh follows him. Christophe and I make our way to the living room where I offer him a glass of Pernod on the rocks.

"He is very pretty, Tim. He's the one you were telling me about, Gary's partner?"

"Yup. That's him."

"And...why is he naked. Are not the boys here?"

"No. They're with their grandmother tonight. Dinh has been having some mood swings related, I think, to his desire that I be more dominant with him. He is very passive...mostly, except in his desire to control how he submits to me. Sort of like Jason used to be. Tonight is his worst nightmare, but so far he's performing very well. We had some tears when I told him what he had to do, but he's done it, so far at least. There are some more surprises, though."

Christophe nods. "Do you love him?"

"I do. He's very sweet, very caring. He's wild in bed and, as you can see, he's very beautiful. He's Kenny's teaching assistant, his TA, and is just finishing up his undergraduate degree. He's a very smart guy, one of the only undergrad TAs San Jose State has ever had. He's also a great role model for the boys, and both Jason and Kenny are crazy about him. It's mutual. Yeah, I love him – very much!"

"That is good...although you have quite a lot of love in your life right now," he says with a grin.

"Vraiment," I reply. "Quite a lot."

At that moment, Peter and Erich bounce in the door, jostling each other while trying to tickle each other. I call to them from the living room, and they come in from the entryway. "I don't think you guys have met Christophe. He's an old friend. His partner is the creator of tonight's feast, along with some help from Kenny." They hug, and then Peter sniffs.

"It smells like curry. Are we eating Indian tonight?"

"Yup. Vijay, Christophe's partner, is Indian, and a really good cook."

"I love Indian food," Erich says, moving toward the kitchen, and seconds later they're both inside. Maybe thirty seconds after that they're both outside again with huge smiles, giggling madly, and Dinh streaks out of the kitchen and through the hallway toward the bedroom. He's in tears. Erich and Peter look suddenly contrite.

"God, I'm so sorry," says Peter to no one in particular. "I didn't mean to make Dinh feel bad. It was just such a shock to see him...like that." Then, looking at me, he asks, "Is he being...punished for something?"

"Not really, although I think he feels like he is. I'm going to go talk to him. When he comes back out, if you could apologize for laughing, I think he'd be more comfortable."

They both nod. "I'm really sorry," Erich says. "I really like Dinh. We both do. I would never want to make him feel bad...umm...about himself."

"It's okay. It's understandable. I'm going to go talk to him." And with that I leave Christophe to chat with Peter and Erich while I move to the bedroom. There I find Dinh lying on the bed, on his belly, sobbing. I sit down next to him and stroke his back. "I want you to stand up, Dinh. I want you to stand up and face me."

He continues to sob, but slowly lifts himself off the bed and stands in front of me, looking at the floor. I lift his chin so he's looking into my eyes.

"You need to understand some things, if you don't already. You are talented, smart, sweet, captivating, and so, so beautiful. And, you're mine. I think that's what you want, right, to be mine?"

He nods, looking down at his feet again. I lift his chin again so he's staring into my eyes.

"I love you, Dinh. Kenny loves you and Jason loves you. The boys adore you. I think everyone who meets you falls in love with you. But...you're mine. Being mine means that you'll let me make decisions on your behalf, because I've had the sense from the beginning that you don't want to make those decisions for yourself."

He nods.

"And sometimes you aren't going to understand the decisions I make for you. But you have to trust that I will never hurt you and that I have a lot of experience making decisions for others. You have to trust that, if I chose you, I adore you. So, when you run out of a room like that, what you're saying is that I have poor judgment, both in you personally and in what I demand of you. You're saying that I'm not acting in your best interests. And, worst of all, you're saying that you're not worthy of the love I have for you. You're ashamed of yourself, of your body, and that reflects shame on me for having been attracted to you. Is that what you intend?"

Suddenly he lunges at me. I'm still sitting on the bed. He wraps his legs around my waist, and clings to me with his arms around my neck. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm so sorry. I was just...embarrassed. They were laughing at me; Peter and Erich were laughing at me."

"Peter and Erich were surprised and nervous, and when people get nervous, they laugh sometimes." I push him back so I can look into his eyes. "You are beautiful, Dinh, and if I choose to show you off, you need to understand that it's because you're so beautiful, and take pride in that beauty. I didn't need another partner. I have Kenny and Jason, whom I love to distraction. They, too, are two of the smartest, most talented, most beautiful guys I've ever met. You're here because, like them, you're talented, smart, sweet, captivating, and just so beautiful. You're here because I fell in love with you. Now, I'm going to go back out there and chat with Christophe. I want you to pull yourself together and when you're ready, I want you to walk out there with pride. Pride because you're beautiful and know it, and pride because you're mine."

Though still crying, he leans forward and kisses me. "I'll be there in a minute," he says, climbing off my lap.

I leave the bedroom and return to the living room where Christophe, Peter and Erich are chatting in French. I join the conversation, and we discuss the merits of Mozart and Brahms. In about two minutes, Dinh emerges from the bedroom, and takes a seat next to Erich. "I'm sorry," he says in perfect French, which I'd forgotten he spoke. "I was being stupid."

"No," Erich says, reaching over and hugging Dinh. "It was us who were stupid. Please forgive us."

That's it. Crisis averted and lesson learned, at least for the moment. When Jerry and Franz arrived to partake of our deluxe repast, Dinh answers the door, greets them, and appears even to take some measure of pride in Jerry's ogling. And why shouldn't he? He's just so beautiful, and so charming, and so attractive to anyone with a brain and a dick. Why not take pride in that?

I guess I should just add – in passing – that the meal was fucking outrageous! Vijay and the crew whipped up a green papaya salad (which I thought was specifically Vietnamese but is apparently also popular with Indians), Chicken Jalfrezi, Parsi Prawn Curry, a stir-fried Monk fish with veggies, a black-eyed bean and potato curry, and okra in some kind of a yogurt sauce. Everything is just amazing, and just fiercely spicy, so spicy in fact that I feared for the safety and well being of the uninitiated, of Peter and Erich. They suck down what appears to me to be nearly a quart of Raitha to cool their mouths, but otherwise seem to love the meal. And, for dessert, we deviate. I have to confess to hating every Indian dessert I've ever had. They're just too sweet. So, Jason made a mango pudding for which Kevin is unlikely to forgive him, given that he isn't here to have some.

Poor child! He never gets anything good to eat.


The following Saturday, we need to go car shopping. Peter and Erich need a car. We are so strapped for cars at this point that I've been driving the Westfalia van so that Jason can drive my Acura and Dinh and Kenny can drive the BMW to school. I'd bought an ancient 1968 Volkswagen Bug a couple years ago off Craigslist. It's a car I love passionately, but it's not especially reliable anymore, and getting parts for it is getting to be more of a challenge. I stopped at the Volkswagen dealership several months ago to get replacement fuses, and they told me that they no longer make them. If you're lucky, you can find them after-market at one of the automotive parts suppliers, but it takes real luck. So, it's time to find them a real car.

Peter and Erich have been using Peter's 1975 Datsun. I've no idea what model it is, but it really doesn't matter. It's a piece of shit. It's too damned old, and Datsuns were never the best Japanese cars, anyway. Back in the 1970s, the Japanese had managed to build highly-reliable cars, but if they made it to 100,000 miles, you were living in luck. Peter's has 175,000 miles on the odometer. Japanese cars are clearly much better today, but back then they were pretty...ephemeral.

My initial inclination is to buy a Volkswagen, a modern Volkswagen. I've always had great luck with Volkswagens. But, we need something that's going to get really good gas mileage, and VW hasn't come through with a hybrid or their oft-promised bio-diesel yet. Toyota has the Prius, but I hate Toyotas. They tend to over-engineer everything, making them really frustrating to operate. They're very reliable, but it's a pain in the ass to figure out how to use the heating system, for example. I think instead we'll look for a Honda hybrid, and that's what we do this Saturday morning. Kenny and I hit the local Honda dealership to see what they have.

Now, I should just say that I hate shopping for cars more than anything in this world. Car salesmen have a very justified reputation as slime. The last car I bought, my 9-year-old Acura, I got from a dealership in Mountain View. I took Gary along. His job was to block and tackle, to keep the salesmen away from me so I could actually look at what they had. Well, that was part of the reason. Salesmen give me hives. They are the reason I hate shopping for cars. I'm hoping that things have changed, but I doubt it, so Kenny is with me to perform the same function. He's going to ask all kinds of irrelevant questions of whatever salesman attaches himself to us, and I'm going to browse. He's not nearly as good at this as Gary was, but he'll do.

To my surprise, they have quite a good selection of hybrids in stock. Their prices aren't great, but we can always negotiate. We need a test drive, and we need someone to negotiate with. We need a salesman. As Marlowe says at the end of Conrad's Heart of Darkness, "The horror...the horror!" Between the two of us, I'm the more aggressive, and that realization leaves me with nothing but anguish, because, more than anything, I hate this dance we have to do to buy a car. But, finally, I screw up my courage and make for the salesman who has been dogging Kenny.

I honestly don't know why I hate this process and these people so much. I nearly beat a guy senseless for abusing my Ian, and I nearly killed a guy for molesting Kai. But I simply cannot bear to deal with a car salesman. Is it fear, or loathing, or contempt? I'm not sure. But the minute I see one, I get more introverted than I ever am otherwise. I just want to crawl into bed and stay there for days.

"Hi," I say. "Is there any waiting list for your hybrids?"

"No. We have `em in stock. No waiting."

"And are your customers paying a premium for that? I mean, they list at around $24,500 according to Consumer Reports. Yours are all marked up to $27,000."

"Well, Consumer Reports always low-balls pricing."

"So, the answer is yes. You've got `em, and you're going to jack up the price for that reason."

He pauses, and suddenly realizes that we're here together. Kenny and I are here together. A Caucasian guy and an Asian guy. And the Asian guy has a slight accent.

So, I have to confess to something, and it doesn't say much for progress in our country, and especially for progress in the Santa Clara Valley, one of the most diversely-populated areas of the country. It's actually pretty depressing. When I see an Asian guy with a Caucasian guy, it almost always sets off my gaydar. Because Caucasian guys mostly don't casually hang out with Asian guys. If they're together, they're romantically involved. Yeah, there are exceptions to that, I'm sure, but I can't name you one off the top of my head. If you see an Asian guy and a Caucasian guy having dinner in a restaurant, the odds are that they're gay. If they're walking down the street chatting amiably, they're probably gay. The only exception to this rule is if they're talking about programming and it's lunchtime. That's it. So here you have a Caucasian guy, me, and an Asian guy, Kenny, looking to buy a car. Bingo. No doubt about it. What he has here are a couple of fags, and he knows it. And this makes him a little surly, a little more aggressive than he'd otherwise be, I suspect, because salesmen are driven by testosterone, and this one is no exception. He doesn't really like us. He doesn't actively dislike us, and he will certainly take our money if it comes his way. But he's not inclined to cut us any deals. And this is good, I realize, because I'm not willing to cut him any, either. Suddenly all my trepidations are gone. I don't like him any more than he likes me, and I'll walk away from this guy the minute I feel I'm being jerked around. This is so much better than if the salesman was gay-friendly. Then I'd feel some desire to do business with him. I feel no desire to do business with this guy, so we may just be able to do business.

"Yes," he says, finally. "You're not going to find another dealership with this kind of inventory. You pay for that."

"Good to know. So, can we get a test drive?"

He's not anxious, you can tell it. But I don't know what he's not anxious about. Does he believe he's not going to be able to snow us and we're therefore not good prospects, or does he dislike us more than I thought – viscerally? Ultimately, he says, sort of lazily, "Sure. Let me get the keys." He goes into the showroom, and comes back a few minutes later with a set of keys. "It's this way," he says, leading us to a grey Civic Hybrid. "Who wants to drive?"

I hate to drive. That's another reason I brought Kenny along. He takes the keys and I give the sales guy my license to secure the test drive. Kenny starts the car, and drives it out of the lot and onto El Camino. The car is nearly completely silent because the gasoline engine isn't yet running. Kenny drives to Wolf Road, and takes the ramp onto the freeway. The idea is to get a sense of how well the car accelerates and how fast it can go. It does surprisingly well. It reaches 85mph with no problem. At some point the gasoline engine kicks in, but neither of us knows when. We just realize at some point that it's running. "It handles well," says Kenny, "and the acceleration is good, actually very good. Better than you'd imagine."

"We need a hill, Kenny. Find a steep hill."

He does. He takes the El Monte exit and drives past the college into the Los Altos Hills, an area made of steep inclines. It handles them very well, and Kenny is able to get up to 55mph easily on these hills, and he's not maxed out. "I'm impressed," he says.

Cars designed for fuel economy worry me a bit. In my younger days, I had a diesel Volkswagen Jetta. I loved that car passionately, and, in truth, I was the perfect owner for that car because I don't like to go fast. Speed sort of scares me, especially when I'm driving. That little Jetta was a beautiful car. It was attractive, comfortable, and indestructible. I had that car for ten years, and then sold it to a nephew (because I wanted a BMW and I couldn't make that Jetta die to give me an excuse to buy one). My nephew drove the Jetta for another five years before finally totaling it in an accident. It was one of the best cars I ever bought, but...you had to make an appointment to accelerate, and if you were on an incline, that appointment had to be made months in advance. It got 54 miles to a gallon of diesel fuel, which was unheard-of fuel efficiency for its day. I was worried that the hybrids were going to struggle with the same trade-offs of efficiency versus performance, but apparently they don't.

"Nice," I say. And then, ruefully, "Let's go back and deal with the sales guy."

When we get back to the dealership, the sales guy asks the classic sales-guy question: "What will it take to sell you this car today?"

"Well, first off, we'll want it in white."

"That's fine. We have white."

"We don't want the radio, or the sunroof, or the leather seats. In fact, we don't want any of the upgrades except air conditioning. For that we'll pay $20,000. Cash."

He looks at me skeptically, and then a little angrily. "I'm not selling this car for $20,000. I'm selling it for $27,000."

"How many have you sold this week?" I ask.

"I don't think that..." he says, huffily.

"In this economy, I'll bet you haven't sold many. In this economy, automotive sales are at a nine-year low. I'll pay $20,000."

By now, he's angry. "No! The price is $27,000," he says, raising his voice, attracting the attention of the guy in the office next to his. "Take it or leave it!"

I smile at him. "We'll leave it. Thanks for the test drive. Come on, Kenny. There's another dealership in Sunnyvale."

By now the guy is furious, and as we walk out of his office, he says, "Queers!" under his breath.

I stop dead, and turn around. "Now my top price is $18,000." And then we leave the sales office and head out to our car. Just as we reach it, the guy in the office next door to our sales guy comes running out to us.

"Are you guys serious about this deal?" he asks.

"Umm...as I told your...colleague, this is a cash deal. No financing or credit. No check. Cash. Does that sound serious to you?"

"I honestly can't do $20,000. You're beneath our cost for the car. We can't get them from the manufacturer for that."

"I know. I do my research. I know what your cost is. I was waiting for a reasonable counter offer, and what I got was list price plus a premium for your good selection. I'm betting that you have such a good selection because no one is buying them. I'll pay cost plus $500 for dealer prep. That's my final offer."

"That means $22,175."

"Right. That's what I calculated. Plus tax and license."

"Done," he says.

Wow! That was easy. "You don't need your sales manager's approval?"

"I am the sales manager."

"In that case, can you talk some sense into that guy?" I say, motioning with my head to the first guy we were dealing with who is now standing in the window of the sales office staring at the three of us. "Being called queers is nothing new for either of us. We are queers. But I'm hard pressed to see how that's relevant to buying a car."

He looks back angrily towards the sales office, and then looks back to me. "Yeah, he and I will chat," he says.

When we get the car home, Peter and Erich are really excited. "That's our car, the car we'll drive?"

"Umm...no. We'll each drive the car most appropriate for us on any given day. Jason mostly takes the train to San Francisco, but when he needs to drive into the city for whatever reason, he has first dibs on the Honda, because it'll save us the most on gas for the commute. So, here are the defaults. I'm going to stick with the Westfalia, Kenny and Dinh will use the Acura, you guys can use the BMW, and Jason will use the Honda, and if he's not using it, I will, because the gas mileage of the Westfalia isn't great."

"Wow!" Peter exclaims. "A BMW!"

"Don't get too excited boys. The BMW is 10 years old."

"But it's gorgeous!" says Erich. "It's still in great shape. It's still a really nice car. German cars last forever."

"Ja...ja..." I reply, laughing. "Es ist sehr schφn. Try to keep it that way." After Peter's Datsun, I think they'd be happy with a semi-modern Oldsmobile. (Are there semi-modern Oldsmobiles?)


After a couple of weeks of working with Dinh, it becomes clear that he's going to need some attention – some domination – every couple of days. With Jason and Kenny, I have rhythms. Once a week they're spanked whether they deserve or not because that's how they like it. We cuddle in a chair for an hour or so while they wind down, and then we make love. It's clockwork. Long about 5pm on Mondays and Wednesdays, my dick rises, and I know it's time for their sessions. With Dinh, I haven't set up a schedule because I don't want him to be able to anticipate when he'll be disciplined. Dinh wants me to dominate. Domination means that discipline is applied whenever the whim strikes me, at least that's how he has to read it. In fact, I've laid out a calendar of when he'll be disciplined so that I remember to do it, but he doesn't know that. He thinks it's my will that he's satisfying when I want it satisfied. That's fine.

We concentrate mostly on spankings for those first two weeks. He continues to scream so loudly throughout the spankings, that I realize that we need to move to the basement. The basement is virtually soundproof. The last time I spanked him in the bedroom, Kai happened to be in the hallway, and heard his shrieks. He asked Kenny about what was going on. He looked a little scared. Kenny hugged him and said that Dinh had burned himself in the shower. The water had fluctuated to very hot, and he got a little...scalded. Both Kenny and Jason are brilliant with these kinds of excuses. We do have hot-water problems. We've all experienced them, including the boys. He bought it, but it made me realize that I need to move Dinh to the basement, at least when pain is the objective.

I'm not really interested in causing him pain three or so times a week, however, although that's exactly what Dinh wants from me. To Dinh, submission means pain, or at least that's the way he likes to submit. I need to broaden his horizons so that submission means service to me in other ways. I need to control how he submits, not him. And then I remember something Gary did to Nathan soon after Jason and I got married.

When Gary discovered that Nathan had cheated on him, one of the punishments he required was a marble game. It was a disaster for Gary, but mostly because Nathan felt so guilty about what he'd done, and because Gary's version was too rigid. This game is all about controlling when the submissive is allowed to cum, and, as played by Gary and Nathan, it would be demonic for 22-year-old Dinh. In Gary's original version of the game, you had thirty marbles, one green and twenty-nine red. Each of the red marbles had a number on it between 1 and 45. At the beginning of the week, Gary placed a randomly selected seven marbles into a bowl. Each day of that week, Nathan closed his eyes, reached into the bowl, and selected a marble. If it was the green marble, he got to cum that day in any way he chose, however many times he chose. If it was a red marble, he wasn't allowed to cum, and the number on the marble indicated the number of minutes that Gary could try to make him cum, again in any way he chose. The first seven marbles had to include the green marble, and whatever marble Nathan chose each day was returned to the bowl and might be selected again on subsequent days. At the beginning of the next week seven more red marbles were added to those already in the bowl until all thirty marbles were used up. Then, at the end of the month they started the cycle again with an initial seven marbles (six red and one green). So, clearly Nathan had a much better shot at an orgasm early in the month than he had later on – 1 in 7 versus 1 in 30.

We're not going to play it this way. What I like about the game is that it allows me to exert my will in a very real and urgent way without actually hurting Dinh. He will know that I'm in charge, and it's potentially excruciating. This is a guy who I've been getting off at least once a day in one way or another, sometimes more often. What if he has to wait? What if he has to wait many days? But rather than a 1 in 30 chance, we're going to make the odds more like 50/50. For each 7 marbles added to the bowl, three or four of them will be green. By the end of the month, I want the number of green marbles to equal the number of red ones. This should insure that he gets off frequently, but not every day, and on the days he doesn't get off, he'll remember what submission is.

So, on the morning of the first day of this game, I explain the rules to Dinh. He looks shocked, worried. "But...umm...I need to cum...regularly."

"Then you'd better be lucky."

"But, I don't think I can... I don't know if I can hold out if I'm not allowed."

"You'd better, Dinh. If you cum without permission, you will displease me, you will fail to submit, and I will be very disappointed in you."

He nods.

I make a show of putting the first seven marbles in the bowl, three green and four red. I mix them around, and then hold the bowl well above his head. "Choose a marble, Dinh."

He reaches up and draws a red twenty. He looks disheartened.

"So, to be clear, you're not allowed to cum today, despite anything I may do to you for the next twenty minutes. Understand?"

He nods.

"Take off your clothes and lie down on the bed, on your back." He does this while I strip as well. When he's in place, I climb up next to him. I have a kitchen timer that I set to 20 minutes and place on the night stand. Then I begin to lick him – his belly, his torso, his nipples, and finally, spreading his legs wide apart and parting his ass cheeks, his ass. I lick along the crack, avoiding his pucker at first, but ultimately licking it thoroughly. And when I touch it for the first time with my tongue, he groans. Dinh loves to be rimmed, in fact he told me once that it's nearly the best sexual stimulation he can imagine. After a couple of minutes of licking, I suck on my finger, and insert it slowly into his ass. Again he moans. Then I begin to suck his engorged dick, while squeezing his nipples with my free hand. He's squirming now, thrashing his head back and forth. I give a really good blow job, I'm told, and I'm doing my best for Dinh.

Fifteen minutes into this, Dinh starts to plead. "Please, Tim, please...may I cum?"

"No, Dinh. Not today. You may not cum today." Having said this, I go back to his dick, sucking it lustily, while finger-fucking him. What Dinh doesn't know is that, while this is certainly torture for him, it's also torture for me. I'd give an awful lot to have him cum in my mouth right now. I'll be very disappointed if he doesn't. But, I'll be equally disappointed if he does.

Dinh continues to thrash, but, I also notice, he's crying. Sexual frustration is a pretty powerful thing. I stripped off my own clothes to increase that frustration. Dinh is very attracted to me. I know that. Part of his frustration is not being able to have me. He can look, but he can't touch, and the looking is the torture.

Finally, the timer sounds, and I pull out and off of him. He continues to cry.

I lift him off the bed and carry him to the chair in the corner. I hug him. "You did well, baby," I coo. "Maybe you'll be luckier tomorrow. Until then, though, you may not cum."

"Okay," he whispers in my ear, still crying.

After twenty minutes, he climbs off my lap, looking forlorn. He still has a hard-on. He dresses and leaves the bedroom, moving to the living room, where he sits looking into space. It's there that Jason finds him. "You okay?" he asks, sitting down beside him.

Dinh nods, and then turns and drapes himself across Jason's lap, hugging him.

"What's wrong, Dinh?"

"Tim won't let me cum. Not today. I love him so much. He won't let me cum."

Jason strokes his hair. He has no idea what to say. He knows what I'm doing, and is concerned, remembering Nathan's reaction to this game. "Maybe tomorrow," he finally says, and gives Dinh a hug.

"I hope so," Dinh responds, bleakly.

But, the next day, Dinh draws a red 10. He tears up the instant he sees it.

"Today, I want to fuck you, Dinh, and I think we'll do it doggie style, you on your hands and knees." I set the timer, and grab the lotion, slather it on my dick and squirt a little into the palm of my hand. Dinh takes his place on the bed, and I move up behind him. "Remember, baby, you're not allowed to cum today."

"Okay," he says, tearfully.

I enter him in one slow thrust. Once I'm inside, I wait a few seconds so he can get used to me. Then I begin to fuck him. Fucking Dinh doggie style with Dinh doesn't give me the correct angle to hit his prostate. That was the whole idea. I don't want to drive him mad. I just want to demonstrate my authority. After a couple of minutes of fucking him, I begin to softly and very slowly stroke his dick. Very slowly. He is rampant, and panting, and after about seven minutes of this, according to the time, I hear a very soft "Please..."

"Not today, sweetie. You can't cum today." But I can, and do after about nine and a half minutes. It's not a particularly satisfying orgasm. In fact, it strikes me as sort of a waste. The best orgasms for me are when I've given someone great pleasure. The more euphoric my partner is, the better my own orgasm. Dinh is not euphoric. Dinh is sobbing. I pull out of him just as the timer sounds, and carry him to the chair where he continues to cry as I hug him.

"Why won't you let me cum?" he asks, whispering in my ear while he's draped over my shoulder.

"Because I don't want you to," I reply. "You told me I could do anything I wanted with your body. This is what I want to do. I want you to be celibate until you draw the right marble."

"This is really hard," he whispers. "This is even harder than being naked in front of your friends...our friends. But...if it's what you want..."

I give him a hug. "Maybe tomorrow will be better."

But it isn't. Tomorrow he draws a red 5. I spend five minutes jerking him off, and he spends those five minutes crying...and begging me to let him cum.

On day four, though, he draws a green marble, and you just can't imagine the look in his eyes. He is euphoric, even before I start to fuck him, which is what he wants me to do. He wants to kiss, and he wants to fuck, and he is squirmier than he's ever been before. But he doesn't cum...not for twenty minutes, which is a record for him. But, when he does cum, he screams. He screams like he does when I spank him, although it's more guttural. It's more like a growl than a scream, I guess, but loud. The sound of it freaks me for an instant, and then I find myself cumming too, having plunged deep inside him. As I withdraw, he grabs me, his legs around my waist, his arms around my neck, and pulls me into a long and luscious kiss. When we break the kiss I notice that he's crying again. "Why the tears?"

"I'm just so happy. I'm so lucky to be with you! I'm...umm...just flooded with feelings. I don't know what to say. I'm...just so in love with you."

I dive back down and kiss him, another long kiss. By the time we're done, Dinh is hard again. "I get to cum again, don't I?" he asks.

"As many times as you want and however you want."

"Could you...umm...blow me?"

"Yeah, I think so. Is that all?"

He giggles. "Could you also do the...other thing?"

"What other thing?"

"Could you...umm...lick me?"

"Yeah, I can lick you? Where would you like to be licked?" I ask, playing with him.

"You know."

"Oh, you want me to lick you down there."

"Yeah," he says, huskily.

And that's what I do. I start with his ass, licking the cheeks first, then sort of insinuating my tongue into the crack. Finally, I push his legs up so he's bent at the knees, the soles of his feet resting on the mattress, and his legs spread far apart. Parting his ass cheeks, I begin to lick from just above his asshole to the back of his balls, right along his perineum, before plunging my tongue into the asshole itself. I continue to lick `down there' before finally moving to his dick, which is now throbbing. And I suck...and suck...and suck. After maybe twenty minutes he blows, growling that really loud and guttural growl again.

As we lie in bed, as he comes down from that high, I ask him, "Both those orgasms took a lot longer than they usually do. Did you notice?"

He giggles. "Yeah. I wanted them to last so I've sort of been playing the marble game in my head. I pretend that I'm not supposed to cum, but I sort of subconsciously know that I can. So I hold out as long as I can, but ultimately I let go, and when I do, the orgasms are really...powerful. I'm not sure if it's my mind game, or the fact that I haven't cum in three days, but they're really...satisfying."

"They must be, because you're pretty...vocal."

He cuffs me, giggling. Then he turns and hugs me, just latches onto me. We begin to kiss again, and soon he's hard.

We go at it for four hours, during which he gets off a total of three times. Then, that night, at around 9:30 as we're sitting in the living room chatting, Dinh looks over at me. "Umm...Tim," he says, smiling and giggling.


I roll my eyes and groan. "My dick is pretty raw, Dinh," I say, giggling.


"You said as often as I want."


"Oh, Christ," I say, preparing to stand.


Everyone is laughing. Then Kenny says, purely in jest, I think, "I can cover for you if you like, if you haven't got another one in you."


"Would you?" I ask with a huge grin, plunking back down in my chair.


Suddenly the laughter stops. Kenny looks confused, and a little worried. "Umm...okay. If it's okay with you, and if Dinh wants to."


"I'd love to. I've sort of wanted to for a while. Would it be okay, Tim?"


"Given the current state of my anatomy, I think that'd be a good idea. Go for it."


Dinh gets up off the couch and moves to Kenny, sitting in one of the overstuffed chairs. He kneels between his legs and, leaning forward, kisses him sensuously. "Please, would you make love to me, Kenny?"


Kenny nods, and Dinh takes his hand, pulling him out of the chair, and leading him to the bedroom where they spend the next two hours alone. At 11:30 I peek inside, trying to figure out whether we can go to bed yet. Dinh is sitting on Kenny's dick, impaled, propelling himself up and down, while Kenny strokes him. I gently close the door and return to the living room. "We might want to take the guest bedroom tonight, babe," I say to Jason. "While Dinh's day of sexual freedom should technically end at midnight, I'm not inclined to limit him. It's not about punishment, it's about authority. I think we should probably let them play as long as they want to, or at least until he wears Kenny out."


Jason giggles, gets up off the couch, and embraces me. "I'm glad he's happy," he says, and then kisses me. We spend the next five minutes standing in the living room, kissing passionately before going off to bed in the guest bedroom.

We continue the marble game for the entire month, and Dinh gets off every couple of days for the most part. Each time he does, he growls that growl, and looks so satisfied when he's done. His orgasms seem to be much more powerful than when he was getting off daily, although his sadness when he draws the red marbles is manifest, especially on the odd occasions when he draws them for more than a couple of days. One time he drew four in a row, and was nearly frantic by the fourth day, begging me to let him cum anyway. "Please, Tim, please let me cum...just once!" I'm only able to get him off on a red-marble day once, and he is absolutely distraught. The minute he cums, I get off the bed, dress, and walk out of the room. He's sobbing, and runs out of the room naked to find me. "I'm sorry," he pleads. "I lost control. Please...please...spank me."


"I don't spank disobedient boys," I reply, and walk away, leaving him sobbing.


In the course of the month, I notice, Dinh's mood swings begin to disappear. Jason later confirms this. He's been sort of a confidant for Dinh ever since he first came to live with us. He seems to be the guy Dinh feels most comfortable with talking about personal stuff. "He's seemed happier lately, so I asked him about it. `I feel a lot more comfortable...with Tim. He's laid down some rules for me, established some expectations. I feel...more confident in his love for me.' I think you've found a recipe for his contentment."


Yes! Dinh is happier, and more satisfied with me, and I don't have to hurt him physically every other day. I still spank him occasionally because he still wants it, but the marbles are my primary mechanism for demonstrating my dominance. They're all I really need. 

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