"Lucid Training," Chapter Three. As many of you will have noticed, it's been some time between chapters two and three. I needed to take some time away from the internet. TCOB: some family issues, some job issues. Training my new pup has taken up a lot of my attention, too. In other words, life. But I've managed to work quite a few things out (life is always a work in progress) and feel I can devote more time to working on this story. I hope that those of you who have read the previous chapters will keep reading. Many of you have sent me emails letting me know that you read and enjoyed the story, and I most definitely appreciate that. I've tried to respond to each of you, even if only with a quick thank you; if I didn't reply, blame internet goblins. Please keep those emails coming, even if you wrote in the past. Hearing from y'all definitely keeps my motor running: ideas, praise, hatred, weather predictions, whatever. My email is barcode_demon@hotmail.com. (Subs will address me as "sir." For fellow doms, and those undecided, "barcode" is fine.) Boilerplate (i.e., the cover-my-ass section): This is a work of explicit sexual fiction. If it's illegal for you to read this, don't read it. Don't assume that, because I write about something, that it's okay to do in real life. Any resemblance to real people, or to reality in general, is coincidental. Don't try anything you're about to read at home. All rights reserved. I know that you're
wounded, I'd rather feel pain
than nothing at all. --Three Days Grace, "Pain"
--Huston Smith, The World's Religions ---------- Noah lobbed the
slobber-slick tennis ball from one hand
to the other as he climbed the stairs to
his apartment. Brick bounded up behind
him. The brown lab's muzzle was white
and spiky like a freezer-burnt pint of
chocolate ice cream, but she took the
steps like a puppy. Noah seemed to
remember the stairs used to give the old
girl trouble--problems with her hip--but
the memory was oily and fleeting. He had
just spent the afternoon tossing the
ball around with her in the alley;
obviously she had gotten better. Noah barely had a
chance to get the apartment door open
when Brick pushed through and darted to
the sofa. Jamie was sitting there,
staring at his laptop on the living room
table. A sinuous bank of thin smoke
surrounded him, and an acrid, fertile
pungency made Noah's eyes instantly
water. Jamie often came upstairs to
smoke his weed and avoid his parents;
Noah's mom didn't give a shit, as long
as he shared. Jamie even
had his own key. Brick laid her head on
Jamie's knee and thumped the floor with
her tail. "Who's my favorite bitch?"
Jamie murmured, scratching the sweet
spot between her ears. Jamie's pale blond
hair bristled like hedgehog quills. His
crucifix glinted too-brightly on his
shirtless chest, even in the smoky
gloom. Where Noah was long and lanky,
Jamie was naturally brawny, muscle
sheathed in baby fat, with a tendency
towards chubbiness, especially in the
winter months. Noah flopped down on the
sofa next to him. "Dude, you have to
check out this clip," Jamie said,
passing Noah his joint. "It's super
hot, I swear." Noah toked and melted
into the sofa. Jamie double-tapped the
touchpad on the laptop and a video
started playing. The film's graininess
and stuttering pixellation artifacts
suggested a vintage VHS rip. It took
Noah a moment to realize that he was
looking at the bedroom in his own
apartment. He looked over the screen;
the door to the bedroom was closed but
light from inside shone through the gap
between the door and the floor. In the
video, two naked women pawed at each
other on the bed: Jamie's twin sister
Lexie, and his mom. "Oh my God, this is so
fuckin' hot," Jamie murmured. Noah's
cock twitched its agreement. Lexie's body was
everything Noah had always
daydreamed--tanned, pert, athletic. His
mom's body was everything he already
knew, taut and freckled. She pushed
Lexie down and climbed on top of her. As
she spread Lexie's legs and slid two
fingers into the teenager's pussy, Lexie
wriggled and opened her mouth. Instead
of a warm moan, she made a sound like
sneakers on a hardwood gym floor. Skreek
skreek skreeeeeek! The sound
wasn't coming from the laptop's tinny
speakers. Jamie grunted and
rearranged himself on the sofa, taking
the joint from Noah's fingers. His
crucifix sparkled, flashing halos of
light that left afterburns on Noah's
retinas. Brick growled. On the screen, a huge
python slithered out from under the
sheets. Noah's mom continued
fingerbanging Lexie, both of them
seemingly oblivious to the massive
reptile. Its scales were covered in
elaborate markings like hieroglyphs that
writhed as it slid around Noah's mom's
back. It flicked out its tongue, hissing
like a punctured tire. The snake slowly
coiled itself around her neck. She added
another finger to Lexie's dripping cunt.
Skreek! Noah's heart raced. The python squeezed.
Inked scales glittered under its bulging
tendons. It brought its wedge-shaped
head around to Noah's mom's lips. She
opened her mouth to gasp for oxygen and
the reptile forced its head into her
throat. Her eyes rolled back in delight
even as the color in her skin began to
bleed away. "You just left me, bro," Jamie said. Noah forced his eyes from the computer screen. His best friend stared forlornly, dead-eyed, back at him. "You left me." ********** Noah started, waking
up to the cool darkness of the workroom.
He blinked, squinted, but saw nothing.
As the opiate haze of the dream bled
away he groaned deep in his throat and
his savaged teenage body screamed. Every
slice of him cried out in pain. The
leather straps binding him to the pole
dug into his flesh. His mouth and teeth
ached, squeezed apart by the jaw
spreader. His shoulder throbbed where
Okami had bitten into it. In the skin
above the root of his cock the brand,
the mark of his owner, had cooled from
flickering agony to a dull, stinging
ember. His crudely shorn pubes itched.
But all that were mere tingles compared
to the tremors of pain in his ass and
his gut that pulsed with each beat of
his heart. The physical pain, at
least, he could fathom. But Noah's mind
roiled ceaselessly and whenever he tried
to get a handle on his thoughts they
slipped away, like he was sticking his
hand in water and trying to grab the
sea. Part of him burned with shame, his
pride and masculinity hollowed away by
Okami's massive cock. The shame competed
with rage, rage at this john who thought
that, because he had a big dick, big
muscles, and a big checkbook that Noah
Conall was less than him. Rage at
himself, at this pussyboy so desperate
for attention, for some scrap of relief
from his miserable life that he'd turn
himself out to another man. He dangled in the
harness. Okami had named him
"beautiful." Noah
didn't think it was a coincidence that
his insomnia had broken at the same time
that he had blown Okami. But he had no
fucking idea what the secret behind the
curtain was. The door opened. The
bulb overhead flicked on, flooding the
room with light and splintering Noah's
vision. "Guhuhuh," he mumbled. Okami entered,
carrying a tray with a covered metal
bowl and a carafe of water. He wore a
black silk kimono decorated subtly with
a pattern of cranes, a fraction of a
shade lighter than black. The fabric
fell over Okami's broad shoulders like
woven water; the hemline fluttered
around his calves like waves breaking
onto a rocky pier. To Noah, the supple
silk seemed to sigh aloud, and the pain
that draped his body balled up into a
pissed-off knot in his throat. "Good morning, boy,"
said Okami. "You slept well." "Guh." Noah's eyes
narrowed. "Hmm." Okami set the
tray down on the floor. The kimono
seemed to soak his shoulder blades and
made them glisten. He stood in front of
Noah and turned the gear keys on the jaw
spreader, relaxing the steel and pulling
it away from Noah's mouth. Okami
returned the spreader to the briefcase
while Noah tentatively worked the
muscles in his face, wincing as he slid
his jaw from side to side. Okami took up
the carafe and held it to Noah's cracked
lips. "Here, boy. You must be thirsty."
He tipped the carafe and allowed a
trickle into Noah's mouth. Noah was thirsty,
but the cold water met the hot ball of
hate in his throat and steamed. He spat
the water back into Okami's face. "You
just left me here, you fuckin' faggot
psychopath!" Noah croaked. Okami palmed the water
from his face. "Sir." "What?" Okami cocked an
eyebrow emotionlessly. "'You fucking
faggot psychopath, sir'. I've
explained to you the respectful way to
address me, Noah. I hope you aren't
always so cranky in the mornings." Noah blinked, then
laughed hoarsely, one dry, bemused caw.
"I'm a teenager, sir. I'm always
cranky." "Nonetheless." Okami
held up the carafe again, and Noah
nodded. Okami pressed the glass to
Noah's lips, and Noah, suddenly
grateful, swallowed one thin line of
water after another. When half the
bottle was gone, Okami replaced it on
the tray and took up the bowl, revealing
a mound of indiscriminate meaty cubes
slathered in a pale, gelatinous slurry.
It reminded Noah of a less appetizing
version of Brick's favorite dog food. "That's fuckin' foul,
sir." "It has everything a
human needs to flourish, nutritionally.
Everything you need, Noah, to start
training." Noah wrinkled his nose
skeptically. Okami picked up one cube of
the rations and swallowed it himself. "Yum." He scooped up a
portion of the paste in his fingers and
held them up to Noah's mouth. The slurry
dripped from his hand. Noah's stomach
suddenly awoke, growling, just
remembering it had been hours--at least
a day, if it was truly morning--since he
had last eaten. He parted his lips and
allowed Okami to feed him. The rations slithered
easily down his throat; a good thing,
since his jaw still resisted easy
movement. The first few scoops he had to
force down, but his hunger quickly
overcame his revulsion and he greedily
accepted the rest. Bits of the fleshy
rations fell onto his freckled chest.
Okami wiped them up with his thumb.
Noah's full lips glistened as he sucked
at Okami's fingers, licking the sauce
from his skin. The bowl emptied quickly. Okami patted Noah's
cheek. "Good boy. Just one more thing." He went to the far
wall of the room. As Noah's eyes
gradually adjusted to the light, he
could see that the wall was covered with
a tool-laden pegboard and metal lockers.
Okami returned holding a long, thick
bullwhip. With his arm at his side the
bullwhip's thong dangled on the floor
and trailed behind him like a
domesticated snake. Noah's throat went
bone dry. "Uh...sir...." Okami stood behind
Noah. He clenched his fingers around the
handle and pulled the braided leather
through the fingers of his other hand. "This is for speaking
to me disrespectfully." The muscles in his
bicep and forearm striated as he brought
the whip up and cracked it down
diagonally across Noah's back. Noah
forgot to breath from the pain, the
bullwhip slicing his skin like a
well-forged blade. Needle-fine points of
blood escaped from the line across his
back. "This is for wasting
water." Crack! The
bullwhip came down again, on the
opposite angle, making a narrow red X
across his sixteen-year-old
shoulders. Noah shrieked and thrashed in
the harness, his legs pumping, his toes
curling just off the tiles. "And these are for my
pleasure." Crack! Crrack!
Crrackk! Crrackkk! Okami brought the whip
down four more times on Noah's back.
Each bar of the X was defined
with three closely-carved lashes. Okami
stepped forward and placed his hand on
Noah's wet skin, measuring the space
between the lashes with the width of his
thumb. Okami purred at the carmine
geometry. "Remember, boy: you
are always training." "Uhh huh..." Noah said
limply. "Say it: I am
always training." "I am always training,
s-sir." Okami smiled.
"Respectful, and without prompting."
Unbuckling the leather straps holding
Noah to the harness crossbar, he let the
boy collapse onto the cold, hard floor,
his naked young body gilded by the bare
light from above. Okami returned the
bloodslick bullwhip to the wall and
stepped over Noah to the door. "Let's go, boy." He
opened the door. Noah didn't move. "If I have to carry
you, boy, I'm going to take you to the
Hole--and believe me, that is a place
you do not want to go." Noah
slowly untangled his body and planted
his palms on the cracked tile, pushing
himself standing. He groaned like an old
wooden barn door being pushed open for
the first time after a long Midwestern
winter. He stretched his limbs and
stumbled, but Okami grabbed his bicep
and steadied him. Okami's fingers fit
into the indentation in his flesh where
the leather strap had bound him to the
bar. A silk sleeve brushed against him
teasingly. They walked along dark
paths. As Noah limped next to Okami, the
working of his legs made the pain
reawaken in his ravaged asshole.
Snuffling, Noah bit down on his
whimpers. He was grateful when they
stopped in front of another door. It was
number eight. Noah frowned. The room
they had come from was number seven, but
they had passed several doors between
there and here. Okami entered a code
on the keypad lock, saying each digit
aloud as he typed.
"Five-eight-eight-five-four. Repeat it,
boy." "Five-eight-eight-five-four." "Every morning at six
you will come down here--assuming you
aren't tied up--for your morning
exercises. I can't personally oversee
every minute of your training, so you'll
have to demonstrate your own initiative.
Do you understand?" "Yes, sir."
Remembering the code would be easy;
navigating back here wouldn't. Workroom eight was
identical in size to workroom seven, but
the similarity ended there. The brick
walls had been whitewashed, and the room
was well-lit by long fluorescent bulbs
flush with the ceiling; Noah blinked
behind his matted cinnamon bangs.
The floor was covered with interlocking
rubber squares. Along the side walls
were various pieces of athletic
equipment: medicine balls in various
arranged increments, jump ropes,
resistance bands. A speed bag, heavy
bag, banana bag, double-end bag,
pedestal bag. Pull up bars at different
heights. Weighted vests on half-torso
mannequins. Kettlebells and dumbbells. A
half-dozen gunmetal lockers. The far wall was
dominated by a massive flat-panel
television, flanked on one side by a
glass-fronted refrigerator, on the other
by a closed door. While Noah let his
eyes wander over the equipment--it all
seemed to him completely brand
new--Okami took a flash drive from his
pocket and plugged it in to the
television's USB port. He used the
remote to navigate to the contents of
the drive. The main folder was
labeled "company spec-ops phys train
series VII." Six folders numbered "1"
through "6" nested inside. Okami opened
the first, revealing seven video files:
S, M, T, W,
Th, F, Sa. He
clicked T. "It's Tuesday?" Noah
asked, brushing the hair from his face. "Yes. You've been
sleeping almost two days." Two days? "Don't expect me to be
so generous in the future." As the video loaded,
Okami shrugged off his kimono and hung
it on a wall hook. Noah directed his
eyes to the floor but his gaze
unwillingly kept to Okami's perfectly
sculpted body: the tattoos that
decorated his arms but kept their
secrets, the ridged symmetry of his
muscles that no AutoCAD program could
duplicate. His dusky skin matched the
shade of Phalaris' bronze bull. His
massive limp cock swayed at his
slightest movement, the sleeping totem
of a forgotten deity. Noah was not
accustomed to feeling so small. Okami took his place
beside Noah in the middle of the
workroom. The video began: Three people, two men
and one woman, wearing nondescript white
karate uniforms, in a blank room. Much
of the same athletic equipment in
Okami's workroom was also onscreen. One
of the men--older, brawny,
buzzcut--stood in the foreground. All
three of the people in the video seemed
to lack any affect whatsoever. "Special-ops physical
training module, series eight, level
one, Tuesday section," he said, without
inflection. "Follow as instructed,
without deviation. Do not skip or repeat
any instruction. Do not follow
instruction out of sequence. Do not skip
warmup or cool-down. Rest and hydrate as
instructed. Prepare to begin." "So this is like...uh,
P90X?" said Noah. "Sir," he quickly
added. "The concept is
similar, yes. The execution, not so
much." The instructor began a
series of warmup exercises. He always
addressed himself to the viewer, to an
anonymous "you." The other two figures
never spoke.
Okami started to mirror the exercises;
Noah followed suit. It started easily
enough, not unlike the simple, generic
warmups from gym class. Stretching,
jumping jacks, running in place. Both
Noah's and Okami's dicks flopped
excitedly during the easy cardio, like
puppies who sense their after-dinner
walk around the block is immanent. Then
the instructor began directing them in
odd stretches and poses, some mutant
yoga. He performed the poses along with
them, occasionally placing his hands on
the bodies of the other two figures and
guiding them in the stretching, using
them as models for some of the more
intricate positions. They mutely and
docilely allowed his hands on their
bodies. Okami followed the
direction with precise ease, but Noah
quickly found himself struggling to keep
up. His heart thudded. Aching,
perspiration leaked from his body; as it
dripped down his back, it met the wounds
where he had been whipped like acid,
burning and itching. He didn't dare
stop. The tears overflowed from his eyes
and diluted the salt in the sweat.
Clamping his mouth shut to muffle the
crying made his unnaturally-spread
jawline ache even more. A sadistic
feedback loop. "Warmup complete. Rest
sixty seconds. Hydrate." Noah's legs wobbled.
Okami went to the fridge and brought
back water, taking a long draw before
handing the bottle to Noah. Noah forgot
how to work the muscles in his arm and
fingers, fumbling with the bottle. "Better hurry up,
boy," Okami chided him, his arms folded
over his swollen pecs. Noah drank some of the
frigid water, then upturned the bottle
and drenched himself with the rest. His
soaked hair became a rusty helmet. "Begin primary
workout," the instructor droned. Noah very soon wished
he was contorting himself in the warmup
stretches. The instructor directed them
in a high-intensity sequence of interval
training, punishing Noah obscenely with
the relentless workout. He had always
thought of himself as pretty physically
fit, but "Tuesday section" beat the
living shit out of him. All of the
exercises used only the motion and
resistance of his own body--the
instructor never directed him to touch
any of the equipment. His two assistants
performed the intervals robotically.
Okami looked bored. "Pause. Rest sixty
seconds. Hydrate. Begin." The
instructor's directives flowed numbly
through Noah's ears, picked up somehow
by his brain like burrs on a hiker's
jeans. He could feel every atom of his
body throbbing, aching, twisting,
begging for swift death. He sobbed like
a girl, with abandon. His beautiful
young body shone with sweat. About half an hour
into the training, doing burpees along
the length of the room, his abs seized
up, grand-mal, and he rolled
over and puked up his entire breakfast
onto the rubber floor. Okami paused the
video and looked down at Noah. The boy
lay curled on his side, heaving long
after his stomach had emptied. "Please, sir," he said
weakly, vomited slurry draped from his
lips. "Just fuck me. How does this make
me more fuckable?" Okami's hazel eyes
narrowed and he pursed his lips
disgustedly. "Do you think I want to
fuck a little girl? Answer me, boy." "Sir, I just...." "Do you think I
like fucking baby girls?" "No, sir." "Then stop acting like
goddamn infant, Noah. Get a fucking fire
lit, boy." Noah felt it, the
fire: just a bare pilot light, in his
skull just behind his heavy-lidded eyes.
But he felt it. He started to stand. "Clean that up first,
boy." Okami pointed to the glimmering,
rubbery pile of upchucked rations. Noah looked up at him
through his shaggy hair. He crawled over
to the mess and scooped it up in his
hands, shoveling it into his mouth. It
was only marginally more foul on the way
back down. Okami nodded. "That's
a good boy. Never be wasteful. Come over
here." Noah dragged his sore
body over to Okami's feet. Okami grabbed
Noah's chin and tilted his head up; with
his other hand, he took his own cock
shaft and guided his dickhead to Noah's
lips. "Hydrate." Noah opened his mouth,
supplicant before Okami. Okami took a
deep breath and let loose a thick spray
of piss, filling Noah's mouth. Noah
gulped but had trouble keeping up, and
warm gold urine splattered down his chin
and over his freckled torso. "I've been saving this
for you since I woke up this morning,
boy. Never be wasteful." Noah swallowed. He
tried imagining it was Budweiser that
had been sitting in the sun all day; but
it wasn't Budweiser. Noah swallowed, and
swallowed. Finally the stream dried up;
Okami tapped out the last drops onto
Noah's face, then let his cock go. It
smacked back against his rocky thigh
damply. "Are you ready to go
on, boy?" "Yes, sir. Thank you,
sir." Noah stood up. The fire in his
skull flared up, fed with the lighter
fluid of shame. "Good." Okami unpaused
the video. ********** The next hour passed
in a blur. Pause. Rest. Hydrate.
Begin. Twice Okami had to pause
the video to remind Noah to breath. The instructor turned
to face the camera. "End Tuesday
section. Wait twenty-four hours before
beginning Wednesday section." Okami
turned off the TV. Noah wobbled. He
blinked at the blank screen. Then he
fell onto his knees, sobbing. A single bead of sweat
traversed the crevasse between Okami's
pecs. Noah's pulse beat out
a frenzied tattoo. He thought his heart
might burst through the threads of his
skin. "Very good, boy."
Okami slowly stroked Noah's sweat-slick
locks. "Perhaps level one is too easy
for you, eh? Level two tomorrow?" Noah said nothing. His
blood pressure roared too loudly for him
to speak over it. "Well, perhaps not.
Come, boy, let's get cleaned up." Okami hooked his hands
under Noah's armpits and lifted him to
his feet. Noah leaned back against the
muscular bulwark of Okami's chest and
allowed himself to be half-carried to
the doorway next to the television. It
led to a miniature locker room: two
sinks with mirrors along one side, an
open shower bay opposite, with four
shower heads. Two urinals, two toilets.
A lacquered teak bench divided the room
in half. Every surface, floor, walls and
ceiling, was tiled gleaming white, a
marked contrast to the dark, dingy tiles
from workroom seven. Okami led Noah to the
bench. He sat down, spreading his
powerful thighs, and guided Noah onto
his lap, face down. Noah's breathing had
begun to even out, his torso rising and
falling rhythmically. Okami used his index
finger to trace the lines of the X
he had bullwhipped onto his boy. His
fingertip hovered a slice above the
flesh. "Before we shower, we
need to discuss something." "Sir." "You lied to me." "Sir...?" "When I first brought
you here. Now, there are so many rules
you have to learn--too many to say. Some
unspoken, others very explicit. You'll
have to learn them in your bones. The
second most important rule you have to
learn--it comes after you can never
say 'no' to me--is that you can
never lie to me, Noah." "I didn't lie, sir." Okami slid his palm
over the hills of Noah's perfect ass
cheeks. "But you did. I asked you if you
had ever been fucked before. Do you
remember?" Noah's mouth went dry. "You said you hadn't,
that this beautiful, museum-quality ass
of yours was cherry." Okami nudged his
thumb between Noah's cheeks. "Now, you
aren't the first fine thing I've taken
pleasure from, though you may turn out
to be the finest. I know when a boy's
ass has been taken, and boy, your ass
has been taken." "I d-didn't say
that...." "Stop right there."
Okami pushed the tip of his thumb into
Noah's hole. Noah winced; sucking in air
made his teeth and jaw hurt. "Don't.
Lie. You have been fucked before.
Statement. Not a question." A tear crept from the
corner of Noah's eye. "Yes, sir." He
felt Okami's mammoth cock start to push
up against his abdomen like a burrowing
Jurassic worm. "More than once.
Statement." "Yes, sir." "Shall I guess, or
will you tell me who?" "You don't have to
guess," Noah mumbled as his eyes burned. "No, I don't." Okami
ran a finger from his other hand along
the back of Noah's neck, parting his
cinnamon hair like a plow through
heather. "Say the name, Noah." "Mom." Okami's nostrils
flared breathing in an extra draft of
the cool, damp air. "Mom. Good old Mary
Connall. Man, what a creature." Noah's heart
palpitated irregularly. "How hung was mommy?
How big a strap-on does she use on her
pride and joy?" "I...I dunno.
A-average, I guess, sir." "Mm, so sweet. Just
enough to tickle that sweet spot inside
her boy. She let you fuck her too,
didn't she?" "Yeah." Okami pushed his thumb
into Noah to the hilt, roughly. His dick
had gotten hard enough to slightly lift
Noah up off of his lap. "Yeah, sir." Noah
squeaked. "Amazing. She spread
her legs all day, every day, and still
came home hungry. But the strap-on was
the price you had to pay--going rate for
mommy the whore. Did you like it?" Noah gritted.
"No...not really, sir." "I wonder. But it was
worth it?" Noah exhaled. "Yes." "Yes." Okami twirled
his thumb. "That's something we've
shared, then, boy. Your mother's cunt.
She craved cock, but I bet she craved
yours most of all. Did she whisper in
your ear while you were on top, telling
you how much bigger you were than the
other sloppy, pathetic johns she screwed
to get her fix? How much more lovely
your body was? Her pillow talk...her
pillow biting talk...must have
been poetry." Her legs around his
waist, shaft buried, juice-slick.
"Ohhh darling...." "I can only imagine
how hard it must have been, Noah. Not
the fucking. The silence." Noah's heart
floundered. "You got to screw the
hottest woman in Southie, and you
couldn't tell a single solitary soul.
Think of the street cred you couldn't
bank." "Yeah." Not even
Jamie. "How much more is
there inside you, boy? All those long
nights, staring at the whorls and cracks
in the ceiling while the rest of the
city slept. You're chock-full of dark
thoughts, aren't you? So much you can't
tell anyone. They'd lock you up, they'd
throw you away if they knew all of my
boy's secret plots, all of his hidden
avenues." Noah began to cry
again, and not because Okami had added
two more fingers to his ravaged ass. "You don't have to lie
anymore, Noah. I'm not only telling you
that you can't lie. I'm telling you that
you don't have to. I own you body and
soul." "I'm a freak," Noah
whispered. "You're my exquisite
godling. Unwrap yourself, Noah." Okami
let the back of his hand drape across
the bullwhipped X." Noah exhaled raggedly. I don't have to lie
anymore. "You know, I owe your
mom, big time," Okami mused. "She
actually began your training. Showing
you that you need not be limited by other
people's arbitrary morality. That's one
part of you that doesn't quite need to
be broken." Okami used his
half-buried hand to hold Noah still. He
brought the other to Noah's right
shoulder. "Still, Noah, mommy's day is
over. Now it's daddy's turn." Okami gently burrowed
the heel of his hand against the outer
edge of Noah's shoulder-blade. Then, his
forearm taut, he swiftly shoved his hand
down and popped Noah's arm out
of its socket. At the same time Okami
pushed his fist into Noah's ass
completely, his inked forearm forcing
Noah's cheeks apart like a post hole
digger. Noah's eyes gaped and
he forgot to scream. His arm dangled
uselessly along side Okami's bare leg,
as sun-orange flares of hurt radiated
from his shoulder. Okami growled. He
pushed his arm further into the
sixteen-year-old's hole. Tattoos
gradually disappeared. Noah tensed his
legs steel-hard and tried not to writhe,
knowing it would multiply the pain.
Okami's cock insisted against his belly. "Tell me how much you
love it, Noah. How good it feels." Noah shook his head.
Okami pushed another inch of his
widening cordwood forearm in. "Why not?" "Because that would be
a lie," Noah hissed. "Good boy...." Okami pulled his arm
out of Noah's unlubed asshole with a
slurping plop. He spread Noah's cheeks
apart and looked at the gaping, raw-red
hole. "I don't think you
have a sweet spot to tickle anymore,
bitch." Okami's smile closed his eyes.
He unceremoniously flipped Noah onto the
hard floor. Noah landed on top of his
dislocated arm and screamed. The echo
resounded in the enclosed room. Okami
stood. His giant dick, fully
pulsing, rock hard, jumped up, released
from the compression of Noah's lean
body. Precum flicked off of his piss
slit like Mardi Gras beads flung by a
desperate fratboy. "I'd tell you to shut
the fuck up," he said evenly, "but it
makes me so hungry." He bent over and
grabbed a fistful of Noah's hair, using
it to drag the teenager up and drape him
over the bench. When he let go, strands
of long red hair remained between his
fingers. Noah would've drained right off
of the bench if Okami hadn't grabbed his
hips. Noah's vertebrae jutted up like a
range of hard, triangular mountains.
Okami let the thick pipe of his dick
rest on Noah's back, his fist-sized nuts
hugging the globes of Noah's ass. Noah's
hole was so tender that the soft jungle
of Okami's pubes sent shivers of pain up
his spine. Noah whimpered, and
hated himself for whimpering, which made
him whimper more. He couldn't resist;
the interval training had more
effectively taken away the use of his
muscles than being bound to the hanging
crossbar had. Even if he wanted to. The
thought flashed like neon in his brain:
even if you wanted to, pussyboy.
He wanted to puke again. Okami read him. "The
rule about not lying," Okami said,
licking sweat off of his lips, "means
you can't lie to yourself either, boy."
He pushed his cockhead
into Noah's hole. Even after being used
two days ago, even after being fisted,
Noah still couldn't take it easily. He
resisted, and Okami had to apply more
force. His fingers dug deeper into
Noah's hips, pushing the color away from
the skin and planting bruises there. "I can't believe how
tight you are, boy." Okami pushed his
entire shaft inside Noah with one hard,
sustained thrust. Noah shrieked like a
factory-farmed piglet. "The pain will never
go away," Okami said as he slowly, with
a perverse tenderness, pulled his cock
back out. "The shame will, though. I
know you can't believe it, now. But
eventually I'll breed the shame right
out of you." He clenched his ass
muscles and slammed his dick back in, to
the hilt. Noah's fingers--from the hand
he could still move--scrambled for
purchase on the floor. The bright tiles
were clean enough that he could make out
his own blurry reflection, eyes bulging,
Adam's apple bobbing like a buoy in the
wake of his screams. "Oh, God!"
he cried. Okami slid his cock
out. "God isn't here, boy. Just me. From
now on, there's only me." He
drove his dick back deep. Slam!
Slam! Slamslamslamslam! Noah's body rocked
back and forth with each powerful
thrust. Okami picked up the pace,
pistoning his wrist-thick cock in and
out, balls deep. Sweat, pre, and blood
lubed his shaft and each thrust echoed
slickly. Over and over. Noah
wanted to pass out, the pain and the
shame blossoming repeatedly. He was so
close to passing out but each time he
thought he might make the leap to
darkness he was pulled back, Okami
changing up the rhythm or the intensity
just enough to drive him off-balance,
just enough to confuse his brain away
from the edge. Noah had screamed
himself out. His breath came in rippled,
tunneled bursts. Okami stopped
jackhammering, and Noah looked from side
to side in confusion, only half aware of
where he was. Okami leaned over and
wrapped his arm around Noah's chest, and
when he straightened he brought Noah up
with him. His bicep cradled his
teenager. Okami turned and sat down on
the bench, still holding Noah, his
bullcock still buried in Noah's gut.
Okami grabbed Noah's dangling arm and
forced it back into the socket. It
clicked audibly, bringing Noah back to
full awareness. He tipped his head back
and keened. Okami began to buck up
and down, clenching and unclenching his
buttocks, making Noah bob in his lap. He
wrapped both arms around Noah and played
with the teenager's nascent pecs as he
corkscrew fucked the boy. Noah leaned
his head back against Okami's shoulder. Sweat channeled down
Okami's face. He bent his neck and
planted his mouth on Noah's, kissing him
heavily, pushing on his teeth with his
tongue. He let one of his hands slide
down Noah's chest, and could feel the
vibrations of his own mammoth cock
through Noah's skin and muscle. Okami purred into
Noah's mouth. Noah swallowed his spit
like nectar. Okami wrenched open Noah's
mouth with his tongue and slid it in,
and Noah bit down on it. Hard.
Okami grunted but didn't stop bucking
his cock up into the boy. Noah's clamped
his jaw down and his teeth drew blood
and Okami came, his deep roar
blocked by the lushness of Noah's lips. Okami's cock spewed
jism up into Noah's belly. The warm
stickiness coated him, filled his
squirming gut, and he could feel Okami's
shaft shudder seismically inside him.
His gut couldn't contain the flood of
seed--one thick, viscous spurt after
another, after another--and overflowed
pinkly out of his ass and onto Okami's
thigh. While Okami burst his
load, blood from his tooth-pierced
tongue filled Noah's mouth. The entire
time Okami had been ripping his pleasure
out of Noah's body, Noah's cock flopped
limply, but as he tasted the coppery
tang of Okami's blood his dick
stiffened, finding it's full nine inches
as if Okami's blood were pulsing into
it. Okami used his hand to pry Noah's
mouth off of him; blood spilled out from
the sides of his mouth. The spatter of
it on his chest was indistinguishable
from the pattern of his freckles. Okami felt Noah's
raging teencock against his arm. "Now that's
my boy." ********** Steam unfurled around
them. All four shower heads sprayed
them, the water temperature a sliver
below unbearable. Noah could barely
stand on his own, so Okami had wrapped
him in a full nelson and held him, his
nose buried in Noah's rough-cut cinnamon
hair. They stood there in silence for
some time. "Ahem." Okami and Noah both
opened their eyes. Frau stood just
outside of the shower bay, holding
Okami's kimono as well as a thick white
towel folded over her arm. Noah felt his
cheeks burn crimson, Okami essentially
holding his naked body on display for
the woman. "Doushita, Frau,
nan-ka youkane?" he said. If she was
disconcerted, by her employer's
nakedness or his boy's, she didn't show
it. "Ojamasite mousiwakegozaimasen.
Dai juu-yonn sagyousitu ni irassharu
okyakusama ga...nanika ochitsukanai
goyousu desite...." "Naruhodo. Dewa
hanashiwo site miyou." "Arigatougozaimasu."
She bowed slightly. Okami unmeshed his
fingers and let Noah from his grip.
Noah's muscles screeched, but he didn't
tumble. Okami took the towel from his
secretary and began drying his godlike
body. "Frau," he said, "take
Noah upstairs and get him ready to go
out. I'm taking him to see the Tinker." "Of course, Mr.
Okami." She held out the kimono. Okami
turned his back to her and allowed her
to place it on him. He handed the damp
towel to Noah. "In my absence," he said,
"you should consider everything Frau
says to you to be in my own words.
Disrespect her, and you disrespect me.
You do anything she tells you, boy. If
she wants to shit in your mouth, you
spread your lips. Understand?" Noah nodded. "Yes,
sir." "I'll be with you
shortly." He knotted the kimono's sash
and walked away. His body was still just
damp enough that the curvature of his
ass stuck to the silk and rippled as he
left. "Don't fret, Mr.
Connall," Frau said. "I have no desire
to shit in your mouth." Noah breathed again. ********** Two things were being
kept in workroom fourteen: a padlocked
chest freezer, and Jamie. Noah's friend still
wore the cargo shorts and Adventure
Time tee shirt he had left the
house in two days before. A chest
harness had been strapped over the shirt
and secured to the workroom wall with a
length of Kevlar cable. The shirt was
ripped in a dozen different places where
he had tried to claw the harness off; he
gouged his skin and ripped three of his
fingernails off, but the harness showed
no scratches. Jamie's dishwater blond
hair looked like a bipolar bird's nest.
His eyes were red-rimmed. Okami entered the
room, and stepped in a pile of uneaten
oatmeal that Jamie had flung against the
wall. A raisin lodged between his toes. Jamie rushed at the
door; the cable gave a couple feet of
leeway before yanking him back. Jamie's
voice, normally sweetly high-pitched,
had become asthmatic from screaming. "I
want out of here, fucker! I'm an
American citizen! I have fuckin' rights!" Okami tilted his head
and examined the boy. "I appreciate your
passion, James, but in my house, you
have no rights." "Let. Me. Out!"
"I understand that
you've been giving my secretary some
trouble. I'd hoped that you'd be more
docile." "What do you want from
me, asswipe?" "You may come in
useful in a little project of mine. I'm
not sure, but I want to keep you on
hand, just in case." "Keep me on hand?" "I could sedate you,
but that brings up a number of different
concerns." "Sedate this."
He flipped Okami off, both hands. Okami smiled, showed
his teeth. He went over to the chest
freezer and spun the padlock open. He
opened the lid, and icy tendrils wafted
into the workroom. "Let me convince you
to be rational." He reached inside. |