Paying the Rent 2 R4P
The man was late this time, Chase realised, as he checked his old worn digital watch. It was a child's timepiece, but he wasn't about to spend any money to replace it, no matter how embarrassed he was about it. Chase wasn't the only poor kid in town, but it seemed that the materialistic teens always wanted to show him the new thing, the gadget, the clothes--whatever the item of the day might be. He wanted that; to be one of them; to have things.
As the rain turned to a light drizzle, Chase wondered if the man might not come at all. That would certainly suit him just fine, as his protest to his mother had fallen on deaf ears.
"So what's wrong with him?" his mother had asked.
"He's just mean, ma!" Chase attempted to express his displeasure.
"Well, that's the way she goes my son. I told ya, you'd have to pay your share or it's out the door with you. You got no brains or brawn, so count yourself lucky to have my good looks." she dismissed.
"I thought I just had to get a boy friend like you used to do," Chase whined, without making eye contact. Defying his mother was never a winning strategy for him; he just hoped to make his point without getting her angry.
"You thinking I was in love with all those men? I did what I had to, and now so do you!" she snapped back.
Chase cowered at her tone. Even though he was the same height as his mother, he still feared her wrath.
"It's the oldest profession, Chase Mathew Patterson, and you'll be doing it for this man, or for all the men when you're living on the streets," his mother threatened. Using his full name usually meant that she was upset with him, and used to be followed by `Bring me the leather belt.'
With that, Chase resigned himself to the situation. He was going to do what was necessary to get the man to keep paying the rent. He was just as eager as she was for the lean times to end, so he steeled himself for the man's next visit.
A car pulled up in the rain, but Chase wasn't sure it was his visitor, until the man got out and headed for the house at a quick walk. It was a different car than before; older, but still nice. Chase trudged to the door to greet the man. He'd showered this time, and hoped he would meet with Mr. Brown's expectations.
"Chase," Mr. Brown said, as he stepped inside, his overcoat dripping.
"Sir," Chase greeted nervously, wondering if he should kneel down or something.
"Is anyone here?" the man asked.
"Na, my mother went to town with my aunt," Chase explained.
"I saw a car in the driveway," Mr. Brown noted
"It never goes in the rain," Chase replied, embarrassed at the heap of junk they had for transportation. His mother rarely let him drive it, unless it was to send him on some errand.
The man took his coat off and handed it to Chase. He looked around the two main rooms of the little house. There was just the kitchen and front room. Mr Brown picked up a kitchen chair and placed it away from the table. He then put a small bag on the table, and turned to find Chase standing before him.
"Peel, Bitch," the man ordered, as he had done with dozens of young men before. There was the fantasy aspect of being `Slave Master Brown', but it was also easier to call them `Bitch' or `slave' than it was to remember their names. He saw most of them only a handful of times anyway; regardless, it was unlikely he was given their real names.
As Chase just stared back at him, Mr. Brown wondered if the boy had understood the order, or if the teen was defying him, however passively. He didn't care for that type of game; he'd actually much rather Chase comply, or join in by saying something like, `make me'. The silent vacuous stare simply engendered anger in the man. He had a sudden urge to just rip the boy's clothes off, but thought better of it.
"Strip, Chase." He restated his order, with a sigh.
"Here?" he asked, gesturing with both arms.
"Yes, we're starting in the kitchen today," Mr. Brown explained.
Chase began undressing, but did so slowly, as if delaying whatever the man had planned for him.
"I washed my hair," Chase said, hoping it pleased the man.
"I'm not here for conversation; sit in the chair," Mr. Brown noted gruffly, as he pointed to the kitchen chair.
Chase did as he was told, disappointed that the man hadn't reacted as he had hoped.
Mr. Brown came around the subservient boy, and pulled a roll of duct tape out of his bag. As the young, brown eyes tracked his movements, the man knelt down in front of Chase and began the process of taping each of the teen's legs to the chair. He liked duct tape bondage, as it required only one piece of household equipment and was quickly administered. The boy offered no resistance as the tape was applied to his wrists, holding them together behind his back. The only sound in the room was the unravelling of the tape as Mr. Brown now placed it around the teen's chest, attaching him to the back of the chair.
Chase wasn't concerned with being restrained, but he didn't like that they were doing it out in the open. He had an irrational fear that someone might peer in one of the kitchen windows and see him naked, taped to a chair. Worse than that, he feared that the man might just leave him like this after he was done with him.
The man ripped off a piece of tape and held it at both ends. Chase turned his head as the tape approached his face.
"Not my mouth; I have to breathe!" Chase snapped, in nervous aggression.
"You can breathe just fine out of your nose," the man dismissed. He could have forced it onto the teen's mouth, but wanted Chase to accept it. He really didn't need to bond the boy for what he had planned, but he felt that it would help Chase gradually accept his dominance. The other aspect of the process was that he enjoyed doing it.
"I'm waiting," Mr. Brown announced.
After a few moments of silent patience, Chase turned his head back and allowed his mouth to be taped. The man had a plan to cover the teen's eyes as well, but discarded that, based on his obvious fear.
"Good boy," Mr. Brown offered, as he reached in his bag and produced an electric hair clipper. "This is going to happen; sit still and it'll go quick and easy," Mr. Brown announced, as he turned the machine on. Chase was stunned, as the buzzer neared his head. He could feel the machine shearing his hair off in great swathes. As the red hair fell around him, all Chase could think about was how silly he would look with a baldhead, and what the other people would think of him.
"All done," Mr. Brown informed, as the buzzing stopped. "Now you look like a boy ... a slave boy," he continued, as he brushed the excess clippings off his freckled friend. The teen's face was much more appealing to him now, with the splotchy freckles fully revealed.
"Are you crying?" the man asked disbelievingly. He'd certainly made young men cry before, but that was after a long day of play. "Come on kid; `man up'; it's just a hair cut."
To Chase, it was more than that; it was his image. He fought to control his emotions, as a couple of tears dribbled down his face.
Mr. Brown ripped the tape away from Chase's mouth, causing the boy to wince in pain. The peach fuzz above the teen's lip was barely visible, but Chase certainly felt it being pulled as the tape came off.
"Ok, try and get yourself free," the man suggested, as he sat down to watch. After about ten minutes of the teenager twisting and contorting his body, he finally sat still, slumped forward in the chair.
Mr. Brown got up and went around behind the kid. He used the kitchen scissors to cut the tape, and left the teen to peel it off his body.
"I gotta piss," Chase rasped, as he looked at the floor, still angry from having his hair shorn.
"Ask properly, Bitch!" Mr. Brown snapped.
"Can I go piss, sir?" Chase complied, just wishing to be away from the man.
"Yes," Mr. Brown replied.
Chase scampered off to the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. It wasn't as bad as he feared; he did still have some hair. The man had left a bit more on top than on the sides giving his hair a spiked appearance. Chase sighed as he ran his fingers through what was left.
"It's called a brush cut, because your head looks like a brush," Mr. Brown said, appearing behind Chase in the bathroom. The teen didn't hear him approach and, so instinctively, turned to face him.
"You're a pretty cute boy, Chase. Now if you could do some push-ups and sit-ups, get yourself toned, you'd be awesome," Mr. Brown suggested, as he squeezed Chase's bicep.
"Yeah," Chase mumbled, as he blushed from the half-handed compliment.
"If you get yourself `six pack' abs, then I'll buy you something nice," Mr. Brown offered. "Start off with fifteen minutes a day; alternate between push-ups and sit-ups, say 30 each; then build up to half an hour a day. You can play hockey in the driveway, but don't just stand there and shoot; run around, as though you were playing," the man explained.
Chase smiled as he thought about what he might ask for, but he checked his enthusiasm as he recalled all the broken promises that men had made to him over the years.
"You piss yet?" Mr. Brown asked.
"No, Sir," Chase replied.
"Well piss, and do whatever else you need to; I'm fucking you next," the man said, pointing at the teen. "I'll be waiting in your bedroom; don't be long," Mr. Brown concluded, as he left the bathroom.
Once Chase had done his business, he found the man naked, and indeed waiting. Chase was a bit nervous about how being fucked by a man was going to feel. The joyous memories of sex with his cousin flooded his mind, but then he recalled that there was some pain when they had first done it. He expected as much with the man; he just hoped that he could bear it.
Mr. Brown looked at his boy, and thought that this would be the moment of truth; would the kid take it or not? Chase had told him that he had been fucked before, but not by a man. Given his reaction to the hair cut, he wondered if he'd leave the house satisfied.
"You want to lube yourself, or do you want me to do it?" Mr. Brown asked, holding out a bottle of anal lube; not just the general use stuff. It was the kind that most of his other rented boys used, so it seemed the right thing to use with Chase. Each of his slave boys seemed to have their own preparation rituals; some wanted to do themselves, while others preferred that the Master do it.
"I'll do it, sir," Chase said, as he took the bottle.
Mr. Brown watched as Chase fingered himself, pushing the slippery fluid into his hole. He had considered having the teen suck him, but he was already pretty excited, so there was no need.
Chase handed the bottle back, indicating his readiness.
"On the bed, slave," Master Brown growled.
Chase just stared back at him. This time, it was most certainly defiance, which was just fine with him. Mr. Brown picked Chase up and flung him on to the bed. He squeezed one of the kid's ass cheeks, and then slapped it. Not hard enough to hurt, but the sound was enough to get Chase to look back, as if in warning. The other cheek got a slightly softer slap, as the man climbed in bed. He pushed Chase down, so that his chest was on the bed with his hips up and legs splayed out.
"You're taking this cock, boy; no wimping out," the man warned, as he stroked his rubbered cock in preparation for insertion. He positioned himself above, so that his weight would prevent any movement from the teen. The man eased his thick cock into the tight hole. Despite his aggressive tone, he knew that Chase wasn't going to be able to take something just being rammed into him; he was going to have to take it slow.
Chase gasped, and then whimpered, as his ass was parted. The thickness was stretching him beyond belief, and it was most certainly painful. His cousin had been in, and fucking, before Chase had any realisation of what was happening, but Mr. Brown was just partially in as he began slowly pumping him.
"Hurts!" Chase hissed between clenched teeth.
"It's a man's cock, boy... take it!" the man ordered, as he pushed in a bit further.
"Fuck! Take it out!" Chase ordered, as the pain was intolerable.
Mr. Brown froze, hoping the teen would get used to it, but Chase was insistent.
"Take it out now!" he whimpered.
The man pulled out, leaving the boy with his hand clutching his gaping hole. He wasn't sure if they were done, or if he could try again. He certainly wasn't going to force the kid, but he feared that if he gave up now they might never make another attempt.
"You want me to put more lube in, Chase?" Mr. Brown asked, intentionally using the boy's name in a soft tone.
"Ok," Chase replied meekly, as he moved his hand.
Mr. Brown started putting large deposits of lube around the teen's anal ring, with just one finger. Once the kid had settled a bit, a second finger was added; and when that went well, a third. He eased the teen over onto his back, and put a pillow under his hips. The man then positioned himself facing Chase, and lifted his legs up. It wasn't a position that Chase had experienced before, but he was willing to try it; he really did want to please the man, if he could.
It went in easier the second time, as the man spoke softly.
"You're ok; it's going in; just breathe," Mr. Brown encouraged.
The large cock got two thirds of the way in before Chase squeezed it to a halt. The man pushed the teen's legs forward, lifting his hips. He slowly began to fuck, pushing a bit deeper each time.
"This feels great, Chase," Mr. Brown encouraged, as he read the expression on the teen's face. "Do you like it?" he asked.
"Yeah," Chase whimpered through the pain. The stretching was killing him, but he just wanted to get it over with.
Mr. Brown started pulling back on each stroke before forcefully thrusting back in. Each time, the teen's mouth would open with a grunt or a gasp. Chase felt his body go numb from the pain, or perhaps because his legs were suspended. Suddenly, as if a switch was tripped deep inside him, Chase felt warm waves of pleasure surge through his body. It caught him totally by surprise, leading to whiney moans, as he arched his back. Chase balled his fists as he sought to grip the bed sheets. The teen's cock began to unload, shooting creamy cum onto his chest, and firing as far as his neck. Mr. Brown doubled his speed as the boy's ass gripped his cock. The rapid fucking was pushing the man to the edge, as it kept the teen in his blissful abandon.
Chase didn't realise that the man had stopped fucking him. He figured he must have cum, given that he was lying still, catching his breath. As if the kid had suddenly become aware of the large intruder in his anus, he started pushing it out. The man helped by pulling the softening cock back. Chase sighed, as the man allowed his legs to fall onto the bed on either side of the larger body. He didn't mind the weight of the man on him; in fact, Chase liked it; he liked the man; he wanted the man. Chase wrapped his arms around Mr. Brown and squeezed.
Mr. Brown recognized what Chase was doing, instantly. He'd experienced it before, and wanted to stop it quickly. The post orgasmic connection could be a dangerous thing, especially with the young ones. The man sat up, breaking the embrace.
"Good job; you took it all," he said, pre-empting any emotional comments the kid might have. Chase had done a good job and, as far as Mr. Brown was concerned, that's what it was--a job.
Chase watched him collect his clothes and leave the room. As he lay wondering what the problem was, he felt lonely. It was as if he was connected to the man in an unexpected way, just for a moment, but now, as he lay with his chest soaked in cum, it seemed as though that feeling was lost, as if perhaps it never happened. Chase shifted his strained body, feeling almost as if the cock was still inside him. He heard the man pissing in the adjacent bathroom, and then saw him appear in the doorway.
"Chase," he said, to make sure the boy was listening.
"Yes, sir," the boy replied, sitting up slightly.
"Are you alright?" he asked, as he usually did before leaving a rented boy. The last thing he'd need is for someone to find an injured young man passed out after he'd left him.
"I'm ok, sir," Chase offered, as he stared at the man, willing him to come in for a hug. It just seemed too forward to raise his arms and make his desire obvious.
"I expect you to clean up the hair on the kitchen floor and make some progress on your fitness for next week," the man ordered, with a slightly increased volume.
"Yes, sir," Chase replied softly.
"Your money is on the dresser," Mr. Brown said, pointing.
Chase turned to look at the wad of cash and then heard the door slam shut as the man left. He lay on his bed, trying to make sense of what he experienced. He had certainly done his job, and perhaps that was all it was, but in the aftermath of the most powerful orgasm he had ever had, he was left wanting more.