Chapter 5a

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Within a month after that mid-September night more than three years ago—the night when I'd first fucked him in my dorm room—the money he'd paid to the university for room and board was largely wasted because he always slept with me.  It had started gradually.  We'd run into each other during the day and make plans for the evening, plans that culminated in sex, sex that in those days left us both exhausted and left him beside me in my bed.  Or, if too many days passed between those occasions, he'd sometimes come and knock on my door at night, sheepishly asking if I wanted to fuck him.  I usually did.  So what began as twice a week turned into most nights, and ultimately became every night.

In those days, he often propped himself up on an elbow beside me, stroking my hair with the back of his fingers as I drifted off to a blissful, post-coital sleep, with my cum seeping slightly out of his fucked ass.  Other times, I'd wrap my arms around him as we curled up together.  Either way, by morning, I'd have turned onto my back as always, and he'd have rolled up into a fetal ball, his head resting on my chest and one hand lying somewhere between my naval and my hip—usually lightly cupping my package.  He doted on me, something akin to the puppy who adores his owner.  Our mutual realization of the nature of our relationship became more conscious, and our nascent interest in kink and domination/submission independently became more concrete, and inevitably to two merged into each other, and that merged into to the love that had been developing between us independently of it.  By spring, as my graduation drew nigh, we had become inseparable, literally from his perspective.  His dependence on me and his dedication to me had become irreversibly intertwined in a way that neither of us had expected.

So, since roughly my birthday that October three years ago, we'd never slept apart.  As my slave, he slept on the floor, chained to my bed, on nights before I went to work, but always near me.  Even on the rare occasions when I went out alone and brought some foolish, naïve sub boy back home to use, my victim had always been temporary—a few hours of abuse culminating in my orgasm and the trick's dismissal.  And then Seay would help me to bed depending on my particular state of sobriety on that occasion.  He understood that monogamy on my side wasn't guaranteed; we both knew that I'd never fuck another boy because I hated the feel of a condom and I wouldn't risk exposing either him or me to disease, but there were many other ways for me to enjoy roughing up a random, fresh face.  His jealousy had showed then but it had never revealed itself as it had the night we'd met Bradley.

So as it happened that night after the club, after I whipped Bradley and fucked Seay, that Seay never expected my announcement, after he'd blotted the miniscule amount of blood from Bradley's flogged back and gingerly spread ointment over the welts, after I'd cut Bradley loose from the crossbeam, after I'd strapped Seay into the stocks; he'd never expected my announcement that he would be staying there in the basement, alone, and that Bradley would be coming up to sleep with me.  He had known that he would be punished for his misplaced arrogance in the club, but he hadn't expected the punishment to take such form.  And he cried, deeply, pitifully, from a place that betrayed more than physical pain or even mere disappointment in himself.  And I took no joy in it.  But neither did I relent.  I left him sitting on the unfinished wooden bench, with his back and arms stretched forward, his wrists and ankles locked in front of him.  I left him there to imagine me with Bradley in my arms upstairs in my bed, almost three years later to the day since that place had come in Seay's mind to be his own.

In fact, Bradley did not sleep with me.  He slept in Seay's usual place on the floor, his ankle chained to the bedpost, covered by Seay's small, 4' square blanket.  But, since Seay did not know that fact, his one night alone in the basement proved to him forever that his place with me could never be taken for granted.

The pale yellow light of day woke me, though I clenched my eyes shut against it.  I reached out under the blankets for the mop and didn't find it.  A seed of anger was planted.  Begrudgingly, I opened my eyes and peered out to the side of the bed.  No one.  "Seay?!"  I called angrily.  I was horny and needed to piss and my slave was missing.

The top of a head appeared at the foot of the bed.  Short hair.  Lapis eyes.  I remembered.  "Fuck."  I laid back and closed my eyes under the fringe of the blanket to ward out the light.  "Go downstairs and get my slave."

"Sir, I'm locked to the bed."

Fuck.  I rolled out of bed, eyes closed, and moved to the dresser, almost tripping over the jeans I'd thrown in the floor.  Seay hadn't been there to put them away.  I grabbed my keys and hurled them to Bradley and slid back under the covers.  "Do you remember the rule about talking out of turn?" I asked.

"Yes, sir," Bradley replied.  The welts on his back would remind him of the rule for quite some time.

"Good.  Help him get up.  He'll be sore."  Keys jangled.  Silence.  I began to doze.

"Sir?" came the gentle, vocal nudge some uncounted minutes later, the letter R rolled softly in the familiar way.  Seay did not need his accent to be attractive to me, but it never worked against him.  I even tolerated his soft singing as he went about his chores because of it.  It only grated when, at Thanksgiving and Christmas, it clashed against the stubborn Danish accent of my parents, but I blamed them for it and not my slave.

"Go prepare yourself like usual.  Get Bradley too.  You can shower to wash his piss off you from last night, and use warm water if you're stiff," I instructed.

"Yes, sir.  Thank you, sir."  He lingered.  "Sir?"


His voice trembled.  "I'm sorry, Sir.  And I pissed myself.  I couldn't hold it all night."

"Whatever."  I was impatient.  "We'll deal with it later.  Go."

Again, I dozed lightly.  I could hear Seay's voice faintly from the bathroom as he instructed Bradley.  The running of water.  Enemas.  Toothbrushing.  A brief shower.  The normal sounds of his weekend morning preparation, this time repeated as Bradley imitated him.  Sounds I usually slept through.

They padded softly back into the bedroom.  I ordered them into bed with me, one on either side, and told them to make me feel good.  Seay knew me best and Bradley followed his lead.  The feeling of twin soft, wet, warm tongues lapping at my pits at the same time had my cock at full mast in seconds.  Hands roamed over my chest and abs, trailing down to my crotch and thighs, massaging, stroking gently.  I rested my head on my palms as they buried their faces under the covers, licking over my obliques to my nipples, then down farther to my navel.  I felt their breath on my moist skin, their tongues playing on my flesh and with each other.  Any resentment Seay had felt towards Bradley had either evaporated in his long solitude in the basement or had been overcome by his lust to serve me, in whatever way I demanded it be done.

Each took a ball for himself, licking it, sucking it gently, washing it in his mouth, rolling it over his tongue.  They moved with unspoken synchronization.  As the minutes slowly passed, the tension of the botched morning faded from me.  They licked the musky crevices where my crotch meets my thighs, then up over my sack, ultimately tracing up the now-throbbing obelisk of my cock.  They kissed each other around my knob, their tongues fighting for it and sharing it.  I opened my eyes in spite of the light, and threw back the blankets in spite of the chill, to watch the naked boys worshiping my dick head, curled up against the footboard, on either side of my legs.

They took turns, one engulfing the head, massaging it in his mouth, as the other licked down the underside of the shaft, forcing the tip of his tongue against the cum tube.  Down, then back up the first went, and their mouths met, and kissed, and the next took his turn.  I could feel cum boiling in my balls and my hips rolled against the mattress.  It was Seay, predictably the mischievous instigator of my pleasure, who broke the rhythm and moved between my legs, kneeling on the mattress and sucked my balls together into his mouth.  He reached out and pushed Bradley's face down into my closely trimmed pubes, holding him there, as my dick soaked in his warm throat.  He was proving to me that the lesson of the previous night had been learned.  He was ready to share me.  To give my cum to Bradley, though he desperately wanted it for himself.

This act of surrender, as much or more as Bradley's fervent, needful swallowing around my dick in his throat, brought me to the edge.  Hastily, I sat up and pushed them both away.  I was sweating and flushed, my breath ragged.  "Seay," I beckoned.  "Bend over the side of the bed."  He assumed his position, his upper body resting on his palms as he bent over the bed.  I rose and mounted him from behind, penetrating him slowly, using only Bradley's spit for lube.  He sighed as I sheathed myself inside him, but rather than passively accept my thrusts, he began to thrust back against me, grinding into me, gyrating his hips.  Bradley, unbidden, rose from his place on the bed and knelt behind me, burying his face in my ass.

"Fuck," I moaned as I stood still, Seay's ass fucking over my cock, his internal muscles rippling over it as he rode me, impaling himself back into me over and over again, and Bradley's tongue forced its way inside my hole.  The insolence of Bradley's initiative went unrebuked for the moment as I felt him fucking me by proxy, using his tongue rather than his dick, his hands firmly grasping my hips to hold them still.  Seay went wild under me, his hairless, naked body bucking away.  I had to cum.  It was too much to resist.  And I did, and I collapsed onto my slave's back, sweating and twitching as my balls all but disappeared inside me and emptied their spunk deep inside his clutching ass.  Even then he didn't stop his gyrations, nor did Bradley stop probing inside me with his tongue.  Only once the clenching of my hole subsided with my orgasm did he pull out of me, timidly licking up and down the length of my crack.

I had to wait until my dick softened, which was itself difficult to accomplish as Seay clamped his hole around it and continued to massage it inside him, before I could slip out from between them and collapse on the bed.  Seay turned and lowered his head to nuzzle my neck as he remained bent over the side of the bed, my cum beginning to trickle its way out of him.  I called for Bradley, who promptly crawled to my side.  Wordlessly, I backhanded him.

"You have to remember your place," I admonished him.  "A slave has no will of his own.  A slave has only the will of his master."

Tears welled up in his eyes from the force of my blow.  It was surprisingly Seay who raised his head and looked at me.  Without a trace of defiance in his eyes, he whispered softly, "You ordered us to make you feel good, sir."  A moment of silence passed as we held each other's stare, before he submissively lowered his head and began to lick at the sweat on my neck.

I closed my eyes as Seay licked my skin.  I asked Bradley if he wanted my cum, and he begged me for it.  He begged beautifully, as if he'd been trained in begging before.  I told him to suck it from Seay's ass as I wrapped an arm around my slave's shoulders and pinned him to me.  I knew what talent lay in Bradley's tongue.  Seay did not.  And Seay had never been rimmed before.  He jumped as if electrocuted as Bradley pulled apart his pale, flat cheeks and buried his tongue to the hilt inside his still swollen cunt.

"I don't need to tell you you're not allowed to cum, do I?" I asked Seay as he writhed.  He actually fought me, trying to pull away, but I held him fast.  He was horrified at the sensations in his ass as Bradley dug greedily.  I could hear slurping and knew that Bradley was hungry.  My slime covered cock began to pulse slightly as Seay writhed and began to beg.  He knew better than to beg to be allowed to cum, but he begged plaintively for Bradley to stop, whether I order it or Bradley disobey me and stop on his own.  "I can make the hell you went through last time seem like bliss," I murmured softly to my Irish fucktoy, referring to his reward for completing six months in chastity.  Eight orgasms I'd pulled from his balls that day, leaving him psychologically shattered and physically spent.  We both knew I could do better if I wanted to, and that was without Bradley's assistance.  Now, with Bradley my subservient accomplice, how many times could I make Seay cum against his will?  Ten?  A dozen?  He knew that if he ever climaxed without permission, I would force him to cum again and again until his balls long since ran out of juice.

"No, please," he sobbed.

"I could make you beg me to castrate you, couldn't I?  To cut your balls off rather than make you cum again.  How many would it take?  14?  15?" I asked as if rhetorically.

"Yes!  Please, sir, please don't make me cum."

"Bradley?  Squeeze his balls while you eat his ass."  A muffled acknowledgement of the order came from between Seay's buttocks.  Seay shrieked as his balls were mangled.  Bradley didn't know how much Seay loved ball pain, but Seay and I did.  And in his ignorance, Bradley applied just enough pressure to drive Seay insane with lust.  I couldn't see the swollen cock, filling the plastic cage that enclosed it, but I didn't need to see it to know it was dripping precum and throbbing wildly.  "Should I tell him that if you don't cum, I'll paddle his balls?" I asked Seay.

"NO!" Seay screamed.  We'd both seen Bradley's response to ball pain the night before; he did not find it arousing.  He would do anything to avoid such a punishment.  "Please, master!  Please don't make me cum!"  Suddenly, a shudder ripped through him and his eyes flew wide open in terror.  "PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!" he shouted as I held him against my chest.  He was losing control.  I let his shoulders go and quickly reached under his legs, closed my fist around Bradley's.  I was brutal in my mercy, crushing past his pleasure threshold and well into pain.  Pain even for a ball bitch like him.  Bradley stopped tongue fucking and looked on in surprise and some measure of pain himself as I crushed his fist around Seay's balls, looked on as Seay doubled over, pressing his fists into his abdomen below his navel, wretching dryly, until I let go and he collapsed onto the floor in a fetal position.

Bradley turned to me, flabbergasted, cum and spit smeared over his face, cheek to cheek and nose to chin.

"Clean my cock, and then I'm going to give you my piss.  And if you spill any this time, on me or the bed, you'll be with him down on the floor."

I had almost drained my bladder before Seay had adequately recovered and the faint whine of thank yous wafted up from the floor.