Date: Sat, 21 Dec 2002 11:35:19 -0500 From: istari Subject: Mastering Alex 28 - 29 The following story describes the evolving relationship between and man and a thirteen-year-old boy. It is the story of a safe, loving, consensual, dominant/submissive relationship and does contain scenes of bondage, sadomasochism, etc. If that sort of thing makes you uncomfortable, please stop reading. This story is utter fiction, the product perhaps of my own childhood fantasies, and nothing more. Comments are welcome at istari_olias@hotmail.com Mastering Alex Chapter 28: Magic and Loss I've said before that Alex has a certain magic about him, a way of turning people's emotions inside out. He can bring joy with the merest flash of his beautiful eyes, or the gentle touch of his hand. He can also take it away when it suits him, or bring other less welcome feelings into the light. He'd be a mystic, if fantasy and magic were things I believed in. But I don't. What he is instead is a skilled manipulator. Most times I know he's not even aware of the effect he has on those around him, me especially, and he does it without meaning to. But just as I have learned that I have a certain power to hurt him, Alex knows he has the power to hurt me in return. He would not look at me as he stood there, battered and exhausted from the nightmarish chase that had lasted nearly two hours. A chase he could have ended, and didn't. And now we would both pay a price for it at the hands of a man neither of us even knew. Had it been Robert, or Samuel, or even Bartholomew, perhaps it would not have seemed so awful. Not that there was anything overtly sinister about this Vincent. I'd noticed him earlier. Younger like myself, with a handsome slave just out of his teens. He'd done nothing to indicate that he might not be trustworthy, but I could tell by his posture, and the way he had my boy tied, that he was likely a rough and stern master. And of course there was the simple fact that he did not love Alex. He did not know what makes my boy happy, what makes him sad, what makes him smile, and what really and truly hurts him. How could I just let this man take him for the night? Vincent extended his hand to me as the other masters gathered round, all quite disappointed in the outcome and quite jealous of the winner's luck, or skill. His grip was strong and sure. "Quite a boy you have here, Master Steven," he said in a soft voice. I had no argument there. Alex still would not raise his head. Vincent turned the boy round so I could see his backside. There between his shoulders was a livid scratch, bruised around the edges. The mark was unmistakable. "Mayday had his paws into him when I found them. It's a good thing the boy was plugged or we'd still be trying to get them apart." That was a vision I quickly ushered from my mind, but of course, it kept coming back in spite of my best efforts, as all my visions of Alex in unspeakable torment often did. I had to force myself to focus on Wim as he quietly explained the rules. "Vincent, the boy is yours until midnight. You may do as you wish with him. Steven, you cannot interfere." I nodded that I understood. Wim continued addressing the victor, as Alex stood straight and still and quiet beside him, the wiggling of his toes the only movement he made. "You are strictly forbidden to do anything that might cause lasting injury. Alex has a safeword. You will respect it." "Of course," the young master said, looking at me with surprisingly gentle eyes. "Still, I would very much like to hear him scream." I couldn't help but smile, even as my heart raced in my chest. "He'll scream beautifully for you." Alex raised his head for just a second and gave me a vacant stare. Then he lowered his chin to his chest once more. "I'm sure he will." "At midnight," Wim continued, "you will return the boy to his master," and he handed Vincent a card that certainly had my room on it. Vincent then turned his eyes to me. "Master, I will release my claim on him if you wish." It was the gesture I'd been told to expect should Alex get himself caught, and it was given with all sincerity. I almost took it without a second thought. But I didn't. Instead I stood in front of Alex and studied this boy I'd always thought I knew so well. He was filthy and utterly spent, his rapid breathing the only visible sign that he was currently terrified. With a hand under his chin I forced him to look at me. He was angry. Angry at me for leaving him alone most of the afternoon, for putting him on display when I knew he hated it, most of all for making him do this, for the dogs, for the chase, for just about everything else he could think of in that moment. In the lowest, softest voice I'd ever heard him use, Alex spoke just two words to me. "Fuck you." If it was his intention to make me angry in return, it worked. I took his leash from my pocket and handed it to Vincent. "Take him." And he did. Roughly. Alex stumbled along behind, and I watched until they disappeared into the house. Wim's hand found my shoulder. "I've known Vince since he was Joshua's age. Perfectly safe. Make no mistake, he will be very hard on Alex. Expect quite a few bruises when you get him back, but your boy likes being knocked around doesn't he?" "Yes, he does. And sometimes he hits back." Wim looked at me with warm and perceptive eyes. "Are you two fighting?" "No. He's just sending me a message. If you don't mind, I need some time to myself." "Certainly." Our host excused himself with his usual formal style. Alone, I returned to our empty room in the carriage house, nothing left to do but watch the clock and wonder what was going on in the main house, as the lights from its many windows shone toward me across the manicured lawn. I'd stretched out on the sofa and was already half- asleep when Robert and Samuel let themselves in. They were both dressed in worn comfortable jeans and denim shirts. Michael was as well, looking quite handsome with his blond hair swept back. Young Sebastian was still in his black T- shirt, and now he also had a silken pair of black soccer shorts around his waist, loose-fitting so as not to irritate the freshly pierced flesh between his legs. "I believe there is the little matter of our wager, Sam," Robert said, clearly concluding a conversation from outside. With a frown and a sigh, the doctor reached into his back pocket and pulled out a substantial roll of bills which quickly found its way into Robert's hands. "I'd have bet a hundred times he was a winner," Collins said with certain disappointment in his voice. Robert only laughed. "You bet against Alex?" I asked in mock disdain. "Turned out to be the smart one, didn't I?" Robert replied with his typical biting sarcasm. My friends made themselves comfortable while young Sebastian was sent to the bar to make drinks for everyone. "Kid makes a mean martini," Samuel said to me as I watched the redheaded eleven-year-old pouring and shaking and plopping olives into the glasses. "Sure you won't have one?" I certainly could have used one at that moment, but that kind of stuff was off limits, for my own sake, and for Alex. "Iced tea will be fine," I replied. Sam nodded, and his eyes told me he understood. I know Robert hadn't said anything about the problems of my youth, it is not his way to share secrets, but Samuel Collins is a rather perceptive character. "It doesn't mean I can't enjoy watching our little bartender though," I offered with a laugh. It was after all an incredibly adorable scene. The little guy was too short and had to kneel on one of the stools in order to reach the counter. He wiggled his bare toes and hummed a little song to himself while he worked. It sounded classical. "Brahms," Sam proclaimed in answer to my unvoiced question. "I think. He knows them better than I do. Brahms?" he called out. "Yes, master," Sebastian replied without turning from his duties. He resumed his little one boy symphony without missing a note. "Is that all he's listening to these days?" Robert asked with a chuckle as he sat down beside me, pulling Michael onto the cushion next to him. "No. I'm sorry to say he's discovered rock. Or what passes for it these days. I had to wash his mouth out last week for singing some lyrics I did not approve of." Somehow I imagined that the classic boyhood punishment took on some wicked twists under Samuel Collins' direction. He smiled at me. "It was just a bar of Ivory, Steven. Honestly, you must think I'm some sort of monster. Of course he was strapped down at the time, and it was in his mouth for about three hours. You won't be singing that song again, will you, boy?" "No, sir," the redhead called back, just now placing the glasses on a silver tray. Sebastian then walked toward us, expertly balancing it with one hand. He held the tray down to me with a bright smile and I took my tea. "Thank you, Sebastian." "My pleasure, sir." He served everyone, then stood in front of Samuel with the tray tucked neatly under his arm. "May I have a Pepsi, master?" he asked. "Do you think you've been good today?" came the playful reply. Little four-foot Seb stood tall. "Very good, sir." "Alright. Just one. No refills." "Yes, sir!" And the boy scurried off to the bar once more. "Too much sugar makes him jumpy," Sam explained. "But he's earned a special treat today." "How's his . . . " "Healing nicely already." Robert laid a hand on my knee as Sebastian toddled back and sat down gingerly at his master's feet, being sure to place his aluminum can on a coaster. That boy is almost too mannerly. It is rather disconcerting at times. "Wim told us you had come back here," Robert said. "Are you having a hard time with this?" I nodded, but of course Robert as yet had no clue as to the real reason. "I'm surprised Alex was caught," Sam offered, almost consoling me it seemed. "Perhaps Bartholomew wore him out a bit more than he was letting on." "No," I said, sipping my tea. "He let himself get caught. He's trying to teach me a lesson." Robert shook his head and grinned. "I was sure he'd do something like this sooner or later. He likes to push people's buttons, yours especially." "He's very good at it." "Masterful, I would say. But I'm afraid he has bitten off a bit more than he bargained for with Vincent." I was about to get to my feet and run off to find him, such was Robert's tone, but my friend and mentor held me back. "Don't misread me, Steven. Vincent is trustworthy. He would never truly harm anyone. But he is also very cruel and very harsh, and not nearly so patient and tolerant as I am." Michael laughed in spite of himself. "You will pay for that, dear boy," Robert said, smacking the eighteen-year-old on the thigh. "Vincent plays rather rough. Alex is not used to that. The boy is having a difficult time right now, rest assured, and no doubt regretting his decision." "Do we go forward with our plans?" Samuel asked, "when the boy returns." I had to think about it, but not for long. "We do." At exactly midnight, there was a knock at the door. I was the only one wide-awake. Sebastian lay curled up in Samuel's arms as they both lay snoring across the sofa. Robert had taken Michael into the bedroom hours ago for a good hard fuck and neither of them had come back out. Seb cracked his eyes open as I walked by. The knock came again. "Why don't you get everyone up, sweetheart?" I said to him softly. He yawned and stretched and nodded his cute little red head. I opened the door, and there was Vincent with a rather satisfied look on his face. Alex lay at his feet, tightly and rather brutally hog-tied, a cum-soaked cloth rag in his mouth to gag him. I noticed fresh welts and bruises on his back and thighs. Lots of them. And there was a single red rose sticking out of his butt. Vincent smiled at me. "Alex has a great little ass, master. And he does scream beautifully." "Did he behave himself?" "Not at first, but we came to an understanding, didn't we, boy?" He kicked Alex in the ribs. Not a real kick. Just a soft little touch of his booted foot. Alex moaned softly and nodded his head. "Don't suppose he's for sale?" I saw the wink in Vincent's eyes. Alex of course did not. He moaned again and bucked in his tight and merciless bonds. "Afraid not," I said, after allowing a bit of silence to make the boy worry. "Well, I had to ask. See you around kid." And with that he turned and walked away. By now Robert and Sam had made their way toward the door. Together we lifted Alex off the floor and deposited the naked boy in the center of the room. He struggled for a moment, his calculated show of distress. Then he lifted his head, with some real difficulty, and gave me that look I'd come to know so well. The one that said, 'I'm done. You can untie me now.' I knelt down and pressed my fingers into the sticky rag that filled his mouth. It was tied tightly behind his head. "Yours or his?" I asked as I wiped the spent cum on his forehead. He jerked sharply and glared at me. "mmmph." Reading my thoughts I heard Robert whisper to Michael. "Bring Master Steven a cane. If you choose one not to my liking, I will thrash you to a bloody pulp." The young man's face paled, and he gazed down at Alex, lying there bound and momentarily motionless. It was not difficult to tell what was in his heart, but, as always, he did as ordered. And as always, I noticed his selection was rather harsh. A long thick cane with a steel tip. I wondered. Was it his fear of Robert's threats, or something else that led him to show those flashes of cruelty whenever Alex was concerned? "Perhaps that one would be a little too effective, Michael," his master whispered softly. Standing as they were behind him, Alex could not see the evil implement of torture in his dear sweet Michael's hands. "I . . . I'd like to see what it does to him, sir." It was the first time Mike had ever professed a desire to cause Alex pain. Alex heard those cold words, uttered by a young man he deeply loved and admired, and pressed his head into the antique Persian rug on which he lay. Robert looked at me. I nodded. "But Michael must do it himself." "I think that was the idea, Steven." Michael stood over the boy and swung the cane a few times to get the proper mechanics. "Where, sir?" he asked me. Tied as he was, the soles of Alex' feet were vulnerable and defenseless. Pale and soft. "His feet," I said. "Mmmph! Mmmph!" Alex fought desperately to free himself, only straining his stretched and aching muscles that much more. "Alex." He was rubbing his wrists raw. "Alex!" I shouted at him, which I rarely ever do. "Be still!" Finally I had to kneel in front of him again, and take his head between my hands. "Look at me." He did, with venom in his eyes. "You're being punished. I think you know why." He closed his eyes in that smug manner thirteen-year- olds master so well. "Look at me." He did. Tears were coming now. I reached behind his head and untied the cloth. "Who's sperm is this?" I asked him gently. His face flushed with guilt. "It's mine, sir." "So you enjoyed yourself then." "No, sir." There was no doubting the sincerity of his denial. "He made me cum, sir." "How many times?" "Until it started to hurt, sir." I stuffed the rag back into the boy's mouth. "Can you snap your fingers." With a frightened whimper he nodded and demonstrated that he could. "Snap them twice if you need to take a break," I told him. "But we decide when you're finished. This is punishment, Alex, not play. It's time you learned the difference." He closed his eyes and turned his head away from me. "Ten strokes, please," I ordered. Michael drew the heavy cane back and brought it down sharply. It made a low whistle as it cut through the air. The sound that came when it hit the boy's feet was hard to describe. Somewhere between a crack and a thud. Alex shrieked into his gag and balled his hands into fists. Already a livid red welt crossed his right foot where the cane had struck. Michael did it again. Alex howled and choked back a sob. Then another blow, this one landing on both feet at once. Alex snapped his fingers. Michael stopped, but did not put the cane down. We gave the boy several minutes to recover as we all stood over him. Sebastian was utterly fascinated and reached his hand out to touch Alexander's feet. Dr. Collins took his wrist and gently pulled him away. I nodded to Michael and he began again. He was crying, but he delivered three more strokes with expert precision. Alex was beside himself. Mike raised the cane again, determined to carry out the boy's sentence. Samuel's hand stopped him. "I think he's had enough," he said softly. "Any more, and nerve damage becomes a possibility. Besides, I have a better idea." He whispered something to Sebastian and the redheaded boy quickly scurried off toward the armoire, returning with five long black feathers, handing one to each of us with a deliciously evil smile on his face. With the gentlest touch, I ran the feather across my boy's right foot. Alex jerked wildly. Receiving encouragement from his master, Sebastian did the same with the helpless left foot in front of him. Alex took in a sharp breath and tried to roll onto his side. Robert's boot between his shoulder blades pinned him down quickly. "Don't move, slave," Robert hissed sharply. Sebastian and I continued with the boy's feet. Samuel and Michael knelt down and worked their feathers up and down the boy's sides, concentrating on his ribs where he was most ticklish. Hog-tied and gagged, and pinned by Robert's pressing weight, Alex had no hope of defending himself against this assault. He howled and cried and struggled like a little madman, only to receive further torment for his efforts. We tortured him with the feathers for thirty minutes. Alex was breathless and in hysterics when we finally stopped. He whined plaintively when he discovered he was not about to be untied. We busied ourselves in the little kitchenette, preparing a late snack. Young Sebastian yawned, causing us all to do so, but a bit of food and drink would help restore our energy. I walked over to where Alex lay moaning quietly to himself. I forced open the boy's clenched fists and placed a large bowl of popcorn in his bound hands. "If you move, or let any spill, we'll tickle you again." Surrounding our living table, we ate and talked, and Seb even proudly showed us his newest ring. I would learn it never took much encouragement for that boy to take his pants off, and they did not go back on. He was adorable in just his long black T-shirt, sitting beside Alex with his slender legs folded beneath him, cruelly resting his cold can of soda between Alex' shoulders. Alex jumped when Seb did that, and several pieces of popcorn left the shaking bowl. "He spilled some, sir!" the eleven-year-old was quick to point out. Youthful Michael, not so effected by the late hour, took the bowl away, grabbed his feather and tormented Alex with it for another half-hour, even rolling the boy onto his side and tickling his belly button. Alex had reached the point where he could almost sense an impending tickle. He flinched each time, before the feather even touched him, and sobbed miserably whenever he was given a brief moment to catch his breath. Seb soon joined in, laughing joyously. A little boy's laugh. It was endearing to hear, and interesting to know it came at the anguish and misery of another boy not much older than he was. Robert, Sam, and I simply sat back and watched, rather amazed at how quickly the two young slaves had formed a team and the sheer delight they both seemed to be taking in the torture of my Alex. Finally, when Alex was showing the first signs of real distress, they both stopped. They gently rubbed the boy's aching shoulders. It was a touching scene, and I let it go for a few minutes. "Leave him be," I finally told them. Immediately they stood up. The bulge in Michael's jeans was obvious, and by the uncomfortable way Seb was prancing around, it was clear his little cock was trying its best to get hard. "Show me, Seb," Sam Collins ordered. The eleven-year-old lifted his shirt. Sure enough his little organ was swollen and straining against the ring that kept it down between his legs. With a warm smile, the doctor gestured the boy close. "Hold still." And with great care he worked the ring free of the boy's scrotum. Seb sighed and moaned in delight as his penis instantly stood straight up, four cute little inches of boyflesh. Rare was the time, over the next several days, when Sebastian wasn't walking around proudly sporting an erection. "No touching," Sam warned. Sebastian nodded and threw his slender arms around his master's waist. "I remember when you used to get hard like that, Michael," Robert said with a warm smile. "I was never that young, sir," Mike replied, adjusting the hard cock in his pants. "No, I suppose you weren't." Over the years I've learned more and more about Michael, and how horrible his life had been before Robert took him in at age fifteen. He was not joking about never being as young as Sebastian, for his childhood had been filled with nothing but pain and abuse and hardship. 'This is the childhood I missed out on, right now,' he told me once during a private moment as he gazed at his master with loving eyes. The two of them embraced, and Robert worked his hands inside Michael's jeans. "I haven't been taking enough care of this lately, Mike," he said softly. "I am sorry." Care of course likely meant having it whipped or cruelly milked, anything but what most would call pleasure. Nevertheless Michael smiled and rested his head on Robert's shoulder. I gazed down at Alex. He was lying still and quiet again, wiggling his fingers, which were beginning to take on a rather unhealthy shade. Kneeling down beside him, I kissed him on the head and finally removed Vincent's rose from his ass. I slowly untied his bonds. "Take it slow, Alex," I told him once I had him freed. He straightened his slender limbs carefully, and I rubbed his hands to get them warmed up again. "Stand up." Slowly he got to his feet, quickly to discover that having your soles beaten has certain long-term effects that are not entirely pleasant. He danced from foot to foot and his eyes watered. His front was bruised almost as terribly as his back. A full day of beatings and discipline had taken a certain toll to be sure. I untied the gag and tossed the wet cloth aside, drawing him forcefully into a close embrace. My boy winced and trembled and tried to pull himself away. "He whipped you." Alex hissed as I ran my hands over his shoulders and pressed them firmly into his latest bruises. "Yes, sir." "Did you deserve it?" "Yes, sir." "You misbehaved?" He nodded slowly, still shifting his weight from one foot to another. "Tell me." He looked me in the eyes for the first time. "I wouldn't suck his dick, sir." "Why not?" "I don't love him, sir." That was a dagger meant for my heart, a sign I should have noticed, but it somehow missed, or, more truthfully, I simply allowed it to. "And so he whipped you." Again he nodded. "And did you suck him then?" Choking back a sob he nodded miserably that he had. Whipped into submission. Something he'd never endured before. Kissing his neck I whispered in his ear. "Did he fuck you?" Silence. "I asked you a question, Alex. Did he fuck you?" "Yes," he answered, quiet and ashamed. "Did you enjoy it?" "No." I kissed him on the lips, forcing my tongue into his mouth. He pulled against me for a moment, then relaxed, and I felt the familiar light and playful touch of his own tongue dancing with mine. I pushed him away when I felt his cock hardening against my leg. "Bring me your cuffs and harness. And your belt." "Yes, sir." Alex walked off with an uneven gait, favoring his left foot, which seemed to have gotten the worst of the cane. He would not even look at Michael. Cradling everything in his arms, he returned and lay his gear on the floor in front of him. I gestured to my companions. All four of us adults roughly took a slender limb and locked a cuff in place, clicking the padlocks simultaneously. As a further humiliation, we made Alex kneel in front of Sebastian, and we all watched as the younger boy put Alex back into his harness. I put the belt on him myself. "You won't be needing these for a while," I said, giving his cock and balls a gentle squeeze before locking them in the metal pod once more. "On your knees, Alex." He obeyed, and the five of us quickly surrounded him. The realization that he was the only one who was naked struck him instantly. Even Sebastian was as fully dressed as he ever gets. I gazed over at Michael. We had planned all along for him to start things off and give Alex a glimpse of what the next five days would hold for him. It was a big step for the young man, who had once been Alex himself. He was silent for a moment, staring down at this gentle clever boy he'd somehow managed to fall in love with. We waited, and finally Michael broke the silence. Alex would tell me years later, 'Mike became my master that day.' And it was true. None of us yet saw it, least of all Michael himself, but it was true. "You are our slave for the next five days, Alex. You will obey any order any of us give you without question. You will be naked. You will be silent. You will be bound. You will be tortured. You will crawl everywhere you are told to go. There will be pain. There will be punishment. You will not sleep. Now, suck my cock." Alex just stared in horrified shock at Michael whom he so dearly loved. For a moment he looked as if he were about to cry, but then he crawled forward on his hands and knees, opened the young man's jeans with shaking fingers, and took Michael into his mouth. Chapter 29: Wide Awake Alex was on his knees for several hours, servicing each of us in turn, and then doing it again. Even Sebastian got his little cock sucked, just once, for the first time in his young life, providing us with a chorus of high-pitched squeals and frantic grunts. Soon the little guy was fucking Alex' face with a look of fierce determination in his eyes. He didn't know what he was going for, but he knew there had to be something waiting for him at the end, and he was going to get it. Sam pulled the boys apart when he thought Sebastian was getting close. The boy was not permitted to have an orgasm. The doctor swiftly replaced Sebastian's throbbing little member with his own, forcing it down Alexander's throat. I was the last to have my cock in his mouth. He could barely hold himself up, my hands behind his head the only thing keeping him on his knees. When I was finished, Alex collapsed on the floor and rolled onto his back, his eyes fluttering. Cum dribbled from his lips and glistened on his chest and stomach. I knelt down beside him and sat the boy up. "Hold me," he whispered. And I did. He turned his face away. I heard him sniffling softly. "Are you crying?" Alex quickly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "No." "Honey, all you have to do is say one word. Just one." "I can't." "I know." Michael and I were the first to stay up with him while the others went to bed. Sebastian actually kissed Alex good night, then with a huge yawn staggered off to Samuel's waiting arms. They both joined Robert in the bedroom and closed the door. It was a little after two in the morning, and I'd be up for another eight hours. Michael looked at me with tired eyes. "Coffee, sir?" he asked quietly. "Absolutely." He smiled and went off to the little kitchen to get a pot brewing. I had Alex standing in the corner, his hands behind his back, his cute little behind on display for me, and took the solitary moment to examine the schedule Michael had created for the next five days. He had come up with some interesting pairings that would surely keep Alex on his toes, among other things. I confess I felt a little chill when I saw that Sam and Sebastian would be alone with him on the second day. Doctors do make the best torturers after all, and I wondered just what he might have in store for my boy when left to his own devices. It was Michael's role throughout the next five days that most caught my attention though. Bless his gentle heart, he'd arranged everything in such a way that he'd end up getting almost no sleep himself. "This schedule isn't exactly fair to you, Mike," I said when he returned and handed me a steaming mug. "You're putting yourself under a lot of pressure." Mike gently patted Alex on the rear end, and took of a sip from his own mug. "If we're going to do this, then I have to do it to. I want to know what he's feeling . . . and feel it with him." I looked at him in wonder and he returned my gaze with silent understanding. It was fitting that he and I should be the ones to see Alex through his first hours. He and I would always be the ones to see Alex through. I nodded and smiled at him, and the handsome young man gently took Alexander's wrists and fastened the clasps on the boy's leather cuffs. I heard them click. He kissed my boy on the back of his neck. "Don't move, Alex," he said. "Even just a finger, and we'll have to punish you." Standing perfectly still for any length of time is a lot harder than most people realize. To this day Alex struggles with it. He struggled that night as well, shifting on his sore feet. Michael was about to take him over his knee, but I stopped him. "He enjoys that sort of thing too much, Mike," I said. "What's a little pain to a masochist?" The young man laughed. Alex was too exhausted to bother, but there was that knowing smirk on his lips. "Push ups. Fifty of them," I ordered, knowing he hated them with a passion. "But let's make them a bit more interesting. Alex, go the armoire and bring me a pair of nipple clamps." "Yes, sir." Alex wobbled awkwardly away to carry out his assignment. I watched him, wondering what he might choose for himself. He stood in front of the open cabinet for some time and finally returned with the meanest-looking pair I'd ever seen. The shiny clamps ended in tiny little metal teeth. They were meant to bite into the skin. He stood tall and handed them to me. He was silent, but his eyes were screaming at me. 'I can take it. I'll show you. Go on, hurt me, you bastard!' I didn't ask. Michael wisely put his hands on the boy's shoulders. I ran my hands up and down Alex' chest, twisting and pulling on his nipples. He moaned softly. I did it fast. Right, then left. Alex screamed and dropped to his knees. Michael went down with him, holding him tightly and caressing his trembling shoulders. "That seemed to wake him up," he observed. It was something Robert would have said. Alex was still screaming. "Take 'em off! Take 'em off, please! Oh, fuck!" "They were your choice, baby," I said, stroking his hair. "Fifty push ups. Now. And twenty more for swearing." Every single one of them was complete agony for the boy. He somehow managed forty-three of them before he fell over onto his side and curled up into a little ball, kicking his legs against the pain. "You gotta take 'em off," he whimpered. "Hold him down, Mike. Please." "Yes, sir." Alex looked up into Michael's eyes and grew calm. I helped him lay flat on his back, just the pain from that simple motion sending tears down his cheeks. "Take a deep breath, honey. We'll do this real slow." Alex sucked in the air as deeply as he could. Mike did the same. I slowly released the right clamp, allowing the blood to return. Letting out an anguished wail, Alex nearly left the floor. "Ready for the other one?" I asked, after giving him a moment to recover. The boy bit his lip and blinked his eyes once, then took another sharp breath. The second clamp came off with a piercing howl from Alex' throat and he slumped down again onto his back, panting wildly. Michael and I both leaned over him, and we each took a sore swollen nipple into our mouths. Alex screamed and writhed beneath us as his sensitive flesh was tormented yet further. I sucked him hard and bit down. Michael used a lighter be equally devastating touch. The contrast between the two was driving the poor kid crazy. Alex begged us to stop, his voice squeaking through sobs and whimpers. We kept going without mercy. "Snail! Snail!" he cried, barely able to get the words out of his mouth. Alex had never used his slow word before. I sat up and gently rubbed his chest. Michael followed. I knew it wasn't really the pain, but the flood of emotions brought on by the day's events that was overwhelming my gentle boy. Feelings he just did not want to deal with. Memories perhaps, I realized, he'd just as soon have forgotten. Michael continued tenderly rubbing the boy's chest, circling his fingers around the boy's navel, as Alex slowly got control of himself again. I left them to refill my coffee. "I like your slow word," Michael said. "It's cute. Did you think of it yourself?" "Yes, sir," Alex replied, staring at him deeply. Michael touched his hands to the boy's face and the two of them remained there, silent, motionless, Michael gently pinning Alex down, Alex not offering the slightest resistance. I knew. I was already dimming the lights when Michael raised his eyes to me. "May I . . .?" he whispered, unable to finish. How could I deny them? I took the keys to Alex' belt and tossed them softly onto the rug beside them. Sitting up with trembling hands Alex unbuttoned Michael's shirt and buried himself in the young man's chest. Mike held him close for a time, then slowly stood and removed his jeans, Alex on his knees gazing up at him all the while with love and wonder in his young eyes. My boy then lay back with a soft moan and ran his hands over his belt, tugging at it for release. "No, baby," Michael said, sliding the key just out of reach, and pressing himself down on top of his young love, "not yet." I lit a few candles as they lay together on the soft rug, then stretched myself out on the sofa, my eyes half closed, watching the beautiful young lovers. They were of an age, Michael still young enough to be a boy when it suited him, Alex old enough to be a man. And they were beautiful, their lean and slender bodies entwined in the flickering golden light. Alex lay still at first, as Michael slowly moved his hands up and down the thirteen-year-old's trembling frame, his touch light but sure, at last forcing his tongue into the boy's mouth. Alex responded, returning Michael's affections with needful passion. They explored one another gently, kissing and caressing. Michael reached for the keys, and slowly, even has he held him, released Alex from his belt. The boy sighed and shivered when Michael ran his fingers over his cock. It was as if the young man's touch was electric. Michael's subtle dominance, and Alex' willing submission were an arousing sight to witness. He pressed himself firmly against the boy once more, letting Alex feel his weight, taking the boy's breath away just for an instant. And then I heard Michael in his softest voice. "Roll over, baby." "Yeah," Alex whispered. Their coupling was so natural, so perfect. Michael was slow and gentle, pausing often to kiss Alex on the back of his neck or nibble sweetly on his ear. They whispered to one another throughout. I was not close enough to hear their words, but I could hear Alex' soft moans and quiet whimpers as Michael took him. There was an undeniable beauty to their soft rhythm, to their deep breathing, to the sounds of their lovemaking. "Harder," I heard Alex cry out, his voice high and strained, swept away by emotion. Michael obliged, forcing himself into the boy with all his youthful strength. Alex shouted, then calmed instantly as Michael continued with long hard thrusts. The young man pulled out for an instant and smacked the boy's thighs, already red and bruised from Vincent's less than loving hands. "Aaaahhh." "You like that, boy." It was a statement of fact, not a question. "Yes, sir." Michael's hands rained down again, harder this time. Then he stopped, and entered the boy again with a single deep thrust. Alex cried and sobbed, then whispered three words I knew he'd one day say to someone else. Someone who wasn't his brother. Someone special. Someone for whom the words meant a great deal more. "I love you." Michael came at that very moment, filling the boy with his seed. He lowered himself gently, stroking Alex' hair soaked with sweat, wiping the tears from the boy's eyes with loving hands, his softening cock still buried inside. "Did you cum?" Michael asked. "No, sir." "Good boy." They lay together for the longest time, as the candles flickered around them. Sitting there, watching, I felt such love in my heart for both of them, two tortured souls who'd found one another. I left the sofa and stood near them. "May I . . . ?" I asked, repeating Michael's earlier request for permission. The boys, the young men I should say, smiled up at me, and I laid down beside them. Alex' hazel eyes flashed with guilt when I gazed upon them. I touched my hand to his cheek, and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Don't feel guilty, Alex. This was meant to happen. Never feel guilty about loving someone. Ever." "Thanks." We lay there with Alex snuggling between us until the sky started to turn purple with the promise of a new day. We did let him doze a bit, just a few short minutes at a time before waking him. It was so strange. We were being so cruel, not letting the boy sleep, and yet it felt so warm and comfortable, the three of us there together simply enjoying one another's touch. "The guys will be awake soon," I said. "We should get him cleaned up." Michael agreed, and with a firm hand under each arm, we forced Alex to his feet and removed his leather. He leaned against me as I took off his collar. "Please let me sleep," he whispered. "Not yet, Lexi. Now move." Together Mike and I dragged the tired boy to the bathroom. I told him to strip me. He was slow and awkward, stumbling around with none of his trademark grace. "Into the tub," I said, giving his young balls a little squeeze. Poor boy must have turned too quickly. I was just able to catch him as he staggered. Alex wiggled his way free of my supportive grip. Just a little annoyed, as thirteen-year- olds tend to get. He stood in the tub and stared at us blankly behind drooping eyelids. "On your knees." He knelt, his hands behind his back. "Do you have to piss?" I asked. Alex nodded that he did. "Then do it." Michael and I watched as the boy urinated on himself, the yellow stream running down his legs and pooling at his knees, slowly finding its way in tiny rivers toward the drain. The smell was strong. We joined him in the tub. Michael forced him to look at us, holding a hand under his chin. Alex knew what was coming and he closed his eyes tightly. "Open your eyes, Lexi," I said sternly. He refused. "You'll be punished for that," Michael said softly. Alex' hazel eyes were gazing at us a moment later, begging us not to. But we did. We pissed all over him. His shoulders, his neck, his chest, his cock and balls. Alex was shaking. Mike and I both had enough left, and somehow we both knew where we wanted it to go. We forced ourselves to stop, only temporarily. "Open your mouth." Alex shook his head. Michael grabbed a handful of what little hair the boy had. "Your master gave you an order, Alex," he said with quiet menace. He was sounding more and more like Robert all the time. Alex slowly opened his mouth. Terror swept across his sweet face. "You don't have to swallow," I told him. "Just let it run." And that it did. It filled his mouth quickly and fell from the corners, finally rolling in a cascade over his lower lip. He was close to tears when we'd finally drained ourselves. Then we presented our cocks to him, soft for the moment, and shoved them into his mouth. Alex gagged and tried to pull away. We held him there, both of us with a firm hand on his shoulders. I could see my boy was struggling. Fatigue and fear and humiliation all assaulting him at once. "Relax, honey. Just keep your mouth open. Try to use your tongue if you can." His eyes seemed to focus after that, and his breathing calmed when he realized we simply wanted our cocks in his mouth for a while. Soon I did feel his tongue timidly brushing against it, gradually making me hard. I could feel Michael's cock swelling as well. Alex moaned and continued to gag from time to time, but the fear in his eyes was gone, replaced by that look of pure and total submission I'd come to know so well. He tried his best to suck us, but two dicks at once is difficult for anyone, and in spite of his efforts to prove otherwise, he was still a boy. I pulled out first. Michael, having been denied such pleasure for so long, reluctantly followed. Alex looked up at us from his knees. He was soaked with piss and sweat and covered in dried cum, quite a bit of it his own. He was filthy, the dirt and grime from the hunt darkening his golden-tanned skin. His eyes lit up in gratitude when he saw me reach for the shower nozzle. I smiled at him, turning on the cold water and hitting him full blast. Alex shrieked and tried to slide away from us. "Keep still!" I shouted as I aimed the nozzle at his face. He sputtered and shivered and smacked his hands against the tub in protest. Finally he figured out it wouldn't stop until he behaved, and so with enormous effort, fighting his body's natural instincts, he held himself still and endured this newest torture. "I think he's clean enough, don't you, Michael?" "Maybe a few more minutes, sir," the young man said. The daggers Alex shot at him in that moment were priceless. "Don't look at him that way," I said, blasting cold water into his face once more. I saw Alex make a fist, and for a moment I thought . . . but he didn't. He just lowered his eyes and continued to shiver miserably. Michael warmed up the water at my instruction and the two of us soaped each other up, leaving a cold and wet Alex on his knees behind us. I'd seen Michael naked since he was fifteen years old, I'd quite literally watched him grow into the young man he is, but until now we'd never really touched or been this close, not in this way. He stroked my cock gently as he rinsed the soap off my shoulders. I did the same for him, feeling his pleasant beautifully shaped organ twitch and rise at my touch. "How long had it been?" I asked. "Almost three months, sir," he replied as he reached his full five inches. Smaller than my Alex, but every bit as perfect, and every bit as hard. He gazed back at the young slave as though he was looking through a mirror in time. The boy hung his head in complete exhaustion. "Alex is the first person I ever . . ." I smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "I know. Alex," I called, holding out my hand. "Come on and get warm, sweetheart." He crawled over to us, and together we raised him to his feet. He shivered as we held him and soaped his smooth silken skin front and back, rinsing him slowly, massaging his aching muscles. With the dirt washed away, I could see the livid welts and deep bruises the last twenty-four hours had inflicted. He didn't say a word as Mike and I held him between us and examined his beaten and battered frame, but his hazel eyes spoke volumes. Alex was tired.