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 6

 

When I wake the next morning, Jason isn't in my arms, as he was last night. Putting on a robe, I go look for him, and find him in the kitchen, whipping eggs for scrambles. There's Canadian bacon on the counter, and a pot of rice porridge boiling on the stove. He turns and smiles as I enter. I kiss him, a lingering kiss. "How are you," I ask.

 

He smiles again, a radiant smile. "I'm good," and turns back to the eggs. I wrap my arms around him, poking him with my erection, and he giggles. "Someone's excited."

 

I nuzzle his ear, and drag him to a clear section of counter where I bend him over. Taking a smear of butter, I grease my cock, pry his ass-cheeks apart, and enter him gently. He gasps, and starts to moan as I begin pumping in and out of him, trying to hit his prostate with every lunge. "Oh, Jesus, Tim, I'm not going to last long at this rate."

 

"That's okay," I whisper, reaching around and stroking his dick with my buttery hand, "as long as it brings you pleasure."

 

He's squirming, now, and moaning, thrashing his head back and forth, as he often does as he gets close to orgasm. I begin sucking on his earlobe, which drives him crazy, and am soon rewarded with a handful of his spunk. Just as he subsides, I begin firing inside him in one of my better orgasms. He feels so good, so smooth, so compact, and his dick is without stubble; he's shaved himself this morning. I want this orgasm to last, and it does for almost a minute. And, as I subside, I hug him, unwilling to disengage.

 

It's the rice porridge, that has just begun to boil over, that necessitates our parting. Jason giggles, dries off his dick with a piece of paper towel, and returns to his cooking. I clean up as best I can with a bit of Kleenex, and sit down at the table.

 

"I was impressed last night," I say, smiling at him.

 

He gives me another one of those radiant smiles, almost ear to ear. "I was proud of myself," he admits. "I knew that was a test. I knew what you were telling me. I think I learned a little bit about how to submit to you."

 

I find myself tearing up. Getting up from the table, I go to him, kissing him long and passionately. He is just so beautiful, and is really trying to figure out how to make this relationship succeed.

 

Breaking the kiss, I return to the table.

 

"So, tonight we're going to Gary and Nathan's for dinner."

 

He's clearly excited. "Nathan was so sweet to me last night." He giggles. "Actually, I asked him to un-strap me, let me go, which he refused to do, but he was still very kind, trying to comfort me all the way, to get me through it. I'm not sure what I would have done without him, even though it was really embarrassing to having him and Gary see all that..."

 

"Well, that was the point, wasn't it?"

 

"Yeah, I got it." He smiles.

 

"Tonight, you can return the favor. Tonight is Nathan's regular punishment night, and he's apparently racked up some points," I say with a chuckle. "He's going to get an enema, like you did, but I think Gary plans to add a little something to `enhance' the experience."

 

He looks concerned. "What does that mean?"

 

"Nathan has had many, many enemas...because he hates them. Lately, Gary said, he's been getting used to them. I think, by what Gary said, he'll add some soap this time, which will induce cramping, and which will need to be washed out, which means a second enema. Nathan also hates an audience, hates to be naked in front of people, but I think in this case, you could really help him, like he helped you."

 

Jason looks concerned.

 

"It's just punishment, Jason. He'll get through it. You'll help him get through it. And maybe you'll find it...erotic. Your punishment sure excited him."

 

He looked surprised. "It did?"

 

"Huge bulge in the pants. Gary called last night and said that Nathan couldn't wait to get home...and get off."

 

Jason laughs. "Good. I'm glad he enjoyed it," he says, cooking the eggs, smiling broadly.

 

"And how'd you like it."

 

"I was so cramped up, I was delirious for a while. Nathan really helped me deal with the pain. It was less painful after a while, and then you jerked me off, which was totally embarrassing, but felt so good. I'd go through it again for an orgasm like that." Realizing what he'd said, he turned to me, his expression serious, "but...umm...please save it for...umm...special occasions."

 

I smiled. He clearly prefers to be spanked. We'll stick to spanking as the default punishment for now. But I now have another tool in my arsenal.

 

Breakfast is good. Lunch is better: Pasta Carbonerra. He says he's gotten the recipe from Tom Curise on Oprah, which sort of grosses me out. I abominate Tom Cruise and the Scientology he's so attached to. Don't get me wrong, I am profoundly distrustful of all organized religion, and have a special aversion to evangelical christians. But I find zealots of all races, colors, creeds, and religions equally objectionable. But...the Carbonerra was delicious, and the origin of the recipe would figure only marginally in Jason's next punishment.

 

We arrive at Gary and Nathan's at around 6pm, and have dinner at 7, having had a cocktail or two and chatted about the upcoming presidential election. Jason and Nathan spend most of their time on the couch, chatting in Cantonese. I've told Jason not to discuss Nathan's upcoming punishment, because Gary has told me that he wants it to be a surprise, as Jason's was, an unpleasant surprise. After coffee, Jason and I excuse ourselves, and make our way to the third-floor of the house, Gary's punishment room. After maybe 15 minutes, the door opens, and in walks Nathan, naked. Seeing us sitting at the side, he becomes angry, then embarrassed, and finally sad. He starts to cry.

 

He, too, is hairless, shaved. His nipples are pierced, with small gold hoops dangling from them. He's also wearing a Prince's Wand, a hollow rod inserted into his urethra that's held in place by a piercing in the underside of his penis. Gary mentioned that he'd had this done as part of a punishment, that Nathan wore it all the time, and that it allows Gary to control both Nathan's urination and ejaculation. It has a plug at the end that prevents the passing of fluids unless it's removed. Nathan, he says, is never allowed to touch it himself, so if he needs to pee, he has to come to Gary and negotiate.

 

Nathan is stunning, like Jason. He has that bronze skin that I find so attractive, and is slim, though taller than Jason by a couple of inches. Black hair, beautiful single-fold eyes, high cheek-bones, and a killer smile, although he isn't smiling now. He pulls himself onto the punishment table in the middle of the room, the prototype for my own, gazes down to the floor, and cries softly. He is clearly very embarrassed, but doesn't try to cover himself. He knows better.

 

Gary arrives in a couple of minutes, greets us, and tells Nathan to lie down on his back. Nathan begins to cry a little more freely, knowing what's coming, or thinking that he does. Gary attaches the restraints, and surprises both of us by reaching between Nathan's legs and extracting a butt plug. I hadn't seen this. He also removes the retaining rod from the Prince's Wand and removes it.

 

Moving to the sink, he begins to fill an enema bag he's gotten from a cupboard with cold water, squirting a liberal quantity of dish soap into the bag as well. Capping the bag, he gives it a shake, checks to make sure that that the hose is clamped, and hangs it from an IV cart. Next, he takes out an IV bag of what looks like saline, and hangs it from the other hook on the IV cart. He attaches a double Bardex nozzle to the enema hose, exactly what I used for Jason, and takes a plastic-lined box from the cupboard, rolling the IV cart over to the table. Nathan recognizes this entire apparatus, and looks truly terrified, but Jason doesn't. Setting the plastic box on the table next to the boy, he tears away the plastic, and returns to the sink, washing his hands thoroughly. Returning to the table, he lifts out a sliver envelope, tears it open, and swabs Nathan's penis with the contents, turning it reddish brown Betadine an antiseptic. Taking a pair of sterile latex gloves from the same box, he puts them on and tears open the envelope holding the catheter. Holding this is his right hand, he applies lube from another small envelope in the box and begins to slide it slowly into Nathan's penis. Nathan is sobbing. Jason is rapt and beginning to bulge just a bit.

 

With about two inches of the catheter hanging from his penis, urine begins to flow. It's reached the bladder. Gary clips the end of the catheter, attaching a syringe to the end and injecting sterile liquid to inflate the retention balloon. He then attaches the catheter to the hose extending from the bag of saline. Applying lube to the double Bardex enema nozzle, he inserts it into Nathan's rectum, inflating the inner balloon, and then the outer balloon. Attaching the nozzle to the hose from the enema bag, he's ready to go.

 

He begins to lecture Nathan on his misbehavior, outlining the week's transgressions. Nathan continues to sobs. Some are pretty minor, I think, like forgetting to feed the rabbit, but the aggregation of offenses seems significant. Finally, he pauses. "Do you agree that you should be punished?"

 

Nathan stares above him, looking at Jason and me in the mirror attached to the ceiling. He chokes. "Yes, sir. Please punish me."

 

Gary nods, releasing the clamps on both the enema bag and the saline at the same moment, and both gush into the boy. In about two minutes, his belly is obscenely distended. He looks pregnant, and begs for the pain to stop, and because of the soap in the enema, he's cramping violently, howling in pain.

 

Gary walks to the door, and I follow, closing the door behind me. We move to the monitor in his living room to observe the boys. Jason is at Nathan's side, stroking his hair, his belly, kissing him on the forehead, whispering in his ear, trying to soothe him. Nathan is thrashing back and forth on the table, but this doesn't last long, I suspect because it brings him no relief.

 

"I'm so sorry, Nathan, but there's not much I can do," Jason says, in English, before switching to Cantonese, whispering to him, stroking his thighs. Nathan has been hard this whole time, hard since the first infusion of liquid. Jason tickles him behind his balls, and Nathan calms, moaning. He continues to kiss him and to stroke him for the next 30 minutes, until we return, at which point he returns to his seat, tears in his eyes. Sitting down beside him, I caress him. "Nice job," I whisper.

 

Gary removes the saline bag from the IV cart and drops it to the floor, and the liquid in Nathan's bladder begins to drain quickly. Once the bag is full, he clips the catheter, detaches the bag, drains the inner balloon, and removes the catheter slowly, gently. Nathan is clearly relieved.

 

Before releasing him, he begins to suck him, slowly at first, then more quickly. Nathan's breathing becomes ragged as he thrashes back and forth. After maybe ten minutes, he cums, and Gary captures it all, swallowing quickly.

 

Detaching the restraints, he clips the enema nozzle, deflates the inner and outer retention balloons, and slowly withdraws the nozzle. He motions Nathan toward the toilet, and Nathan wastes no time in getting there, releasing the enema in a gush, and looking so relieved. He has not stopped sobbing since this ordeal began.

 

As we get up to leave, Jason walks over to Nathan, still on the toilet, draining. He smiles down at him, kisses him on the cheek, and says, in English: "You did so well. I'm really glad to know you."

 

Nathan smiles, his eyes sparkling, as we leave and return home.

 

We say nothing on the way home. Jason is thoughtful, and rather somber. When we arrive home, it's probably 11pm. He strips in the entryway and goes to the living room, sitting on the floor next to my chair. I join him, caressing his hair.

 

"What's wrong," I ask?

 

"Nothing," he replies, smiling wanly. "Did you think Nathan's punishment was a little too severe?"

 

I smile. "Nathan doesn't like enemas, and, from what Gary says, he doesn't like to be naked in front of other people either. But he loves Gary passionately, and is rarely disobedient, although this week was a challenge for them, I understand. So, I think Gary was looking for a way to regain control. Also, Nathan is clearly very close to you, and I think Gary wanted to capitalize on that; he wanted the embarrassment of an observer without its being totally humiliating. You were just right, comforting without being intrusive. Gary's comment was," I say, giggling, "'They're so cute together.'"

 

Jason giggles, and then gets serious. "You're not concerned?"

 

"About what?"

 

"I like Nathan...a lot...but..."

 

I smile. "You're telling me I shouldn't be jealous?"

 

Jason blushes, and smiles. "Yes. I don't like him...like that."

 

"I'm not jealous. Nathan loves Gary way too much to turn on a dime like that, and I hope you've come to love me...at least a little."

 

Jason stares at the floor, and then, surprisingly, tears up and begins to cry.

 

I'm stunned. "What's wrong? Are you okay?" I caress him.

 

He hides his face in his hands, and continues to cry.

 

"Baby, what's wrong?"

 

"I'm sorry," he mutters, still weeping. "I'm so sorry." Sobbing. "I...don't...know...how...to...say...this. I'm just...so..."

 

He stops.

 

"So what?" I'm really concerned about this boy. He seems overwrought. He's so very cute, but I'm really concerned. "So what?"

 

He continues to sob. "I'm just...so...in love...with...you."

 

The minute I hear it, I begin to tear up. He's adorable, and I think I've gotten him to a point of submission, and he says this. "Oh, baby!" is the only un-original thing I can think to say. I lift him by the chin, and move him to my lap, where he sits, and I hug him. "I love you, too. So much! The last couple of days have shown me how much. You're so beautiful, and so sweet. And such a good cook." I chuckle, and he laughs outright. "I feel very lucky."

 

"Do you feel lucky enough to fuck me?" He giggles.

 

He's become a right little sex addict. (I always was.) "Umm, yeah..."

 

I carry him to the bedroom, kissing him passionately all the way.

 

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We spend a good long time at it, at least three hours, during which I manage to keep him on the edge without allowing him to cum. By the time I finally stimulate him enough to cum, he's so keyed up and frustrated that his orgasm seems to last forever and is very vocal, which is rare. I cuddle with him, smiling. "And?"

 

He laughs. "And...that nearly drove me crazy. And...I don't think I've ever cum that hard in my life." He pushes his face forward and kisses me.

 

We fall asleep like this, our limbs wrapped around each other. I wake up at four, and get up to work on the game. Nathan wakes up three hours later and comes to my office, looking sheepish. "I'm sorry for disturbing you."

 

I smile. This rule of not disturbing me in my office is not working, and is probably stupid. He's still sleepy, walking very slowly, hair ruffled. His dick is hard.

 

"Could you please...umm...come back to bed."

 

I snaugh, turn off my monitor, walk across the room, turn off the light, close the door, and lift him into my arms, carrying him back to bed. We cuddle for a while, finally both falling asleep. At 10am, we both wake up again, Jason first this time. He starts to tickle me, which wakes me up. "I know it's breakfast time," he says, smiling.

 

"Yes..."

 

"But...umm...could you fuck me first?"

 

I laugh, and we go at it again. This boy is insatiable. Half-an-hour later, we're in the shower, getting ready for a new day. By the time we're out and toweling off, though, my stomach is growling ferociously.

 

"Jason, I'm hungry," I whine.

 

He puts his ear to my belly, and listens. "Sounds like a pancake growl," he announces, looking sage and very professional.

 

"Okay. Whatever. It's actually a food growl."

 

He smiles, and runs to the kitchen, getting breakfast under way. He's just so damned cute as he scurries away. I can't help but smile.

 

When I get to the kitchen, he's cooking the first of the pancakes. "What are we doing today," he asks.

 

"Dunno yet, I reply, picking up the paper.

 

"I should get a haircut," he says. "It's looking a bit shaggy."

 

Looking up at him, "Actually, I'd like you to grow it out into one of those Japanese shags. They're very cute, and a little androgynous. Okay?"

 

"Whatever you want is fine," he says, smiling. He's learning.

 

Looking through the paper, I realize that today is San Francisco's Folsom Street Fair, the biggest aggregation of SM and BDSM people in the country. I've been to this only once, five years before with the straight brother of a friend of mine, and his wife. The wife's comment as we left was: "Well, I sure saw a lot of dick today." And we did. Like many San Francisco parades, there were a lot of naked people, and this gives me a really evil idea.

 

"The Folsom Street Fair is today in San Francisco," I say. "Have you ever been?"

 

He looks at me confused. "No, what's that?"

 

"Let's go," I say, deflecting the question.

 

"Okay." How innocent.

 

After breakfast, I grab a collar that I thought would fit Jason, and a leather leash. These I put into a backpack. I tell him to dress casually because predictions for the weather are in the `80s. Shorts and a t-shirt will be fine. Bring a jacket, just in case. We take his car because it's smaller than mine, easier to parallel park. We find a parking spot, remarkably, right at Seventh and Folsom. As we get out of the car, I pull the collar out of the backpack, a black leather thing with steel studs. Encircling his neck, I buckle it.

 

"Get naked, Jason," I instruct.

 

He looks surprised, then confused, then angry, and then he smiles.

 

"You're kidding, right?"

 

"I'm not. Get naked."

 

He looks around him, looks back at me. "I can't be naked here. I'll get arrested."

 

"Get naked," I repeat.

 

He looks like he's about to cry. He looks at me, looks down at his feet, back and me, and finally begins to strip, taking off his shoes and socks, his shirt, his shorts, and finally his briefs. I've brought him a pair of rubber flip-flops to wear, and he puts these on. He's redder more flushed than I'd ever seen him, but he's done it. He's naked and beautiful, although a little teary as I attach the leash and we begin to walk down Folsom Street. By 8th Street, he realizes that he's by no means the only naked person here. At 9th Street, we see a naked couple sucking each other off. At 11th Street, we find a veritable parade of very fit and handsome naked men, each with a hardon. And at 12th, we find the spanking booth with another very attractive Asian boy strapped to a cross, getting his ass whipped, sobbing all the while.

 

I reached down and begin stroking Jason, bringing him to erection. His first impulse is to slap my hand away, but the look I give him convinces him that that's a bad idea. Finally, hungry it's, after all, 1:30 we go to an Indian restaurant, and are shown to a table white tablecloth, elegant, and order, Jason stark naked. Neither the waiters, nor the concierge, show any surprise. They're used to this event, used to making big money on this particular weekend.

 

Reaching across the table, I draw Jason's face to me, and kiss him passionately on the lips, which brings his dick back to attention. Pulling back, I gaze into his eyes. "You're doing really well, babe. The initial hesitation will earn you a couple of strokes, but otherwise I'm really proud of you."

 

He beams, and then, glancing to the side, realizes that our whole conversation has been overheard at the next table. How will he respond?

 

He smiles at the leather-daddy sitting next to him, introduces himself by name, and starts a conversation.

 

"You've got this boy really well trained," the leather guy whispers later. "How long have you had him?"

 

"About two-and-a-half weeks."

 

He looks shocked.

 

"He's a really sweet boy," I say, "and a natural. And, I think we've got a relationship that's helping this along."

 

The leather guy reaches across and kissed my on the cheek. "Congratulations, man." I smile as we pay the bill and leave the restaurant.

 

We walk the other side of the street from twelfth to seventh stopping at various booths along the way to look at the merchandise. Jason doesn't flinch except when a burly guy tries to grab his dick. He pulls away, and I move in front of him, between him and the burly guy, who's at least six inches taller than me, and probably 100 pounds heavier, pure muscle.

 

"What the fuck are you doing," I demand, really, really angry. Two cops are standing along the sidewalk, watching the altercation. The burly guy sees them.

 

"Sorry, man, I didn't know he was taken."

 

I raise the leash. "What do you think this is for?"

 

"Sorry, man," he says, and slinks off.

 

When we get back to 7th Street, I let Jason dress, and we get in the car.

 

"Thanks," he says, squeezing my hand. I smile at him.

 

"My pleasure."

 

"Wish I'd had you in high school."

 

I look confused. "Why?"

 

"I got a bullied a lot. I could really have used someone to protect me."

 

I smile. "I told you I'd protect you, didn't I?"

 

He grins. "Yeah. But what would you have done if that bull had charged?"

 

"I'm a street-fighter, Jason. That idiot didn't stand a chance, as big as he was."

 

Jason looks amazed, and reaches over and kisses me. We return home, arriving at about 4pm, which gives him time for a nap, and time to make dinner. It has been a good and instructive day, and I think we've both learned a lot about each other.

 

 

 

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