Date: Sun, 11 Jun 2000 14:59:32 BST From: Jack Rowan Subject: The Story of Tim - part 5 THE STORY OF TIM - part 5 This story includes descriptions of sexual relations between an adult man and a teenage boy, including bondage and SM. If the law in your jurisdiction says that you're too young to be reading this, then I suggest very strongly that you should obey the law. People who are likely to be offended by the subject matter are respectfully advised not to read it. Please note: This is fiction. In real life, sexual relationships between adults and teenagers cannot be condoned. For other notes, please see the start of part 1. Comments will be very gratefully received by Jack_Rowan@hotmail.com ====================================================================== 26 Setting out -------------- When I awoke, we were facing one another. He was still asleep. For a while I just gazed at his face. Then I slipped out of bed and went for a run. By the time I had had a shower, he was stirring. I put my head round the door. "Time to get up! Busy day ahead. Have a shower - get good and clean then jeans and tee-shirt. No pants. Come on!" He flung himself out of bed and as he blundered sleepily past me I made to grab his erection. He squeaked and evaded me, and I chased him into the bathroom. In a few minutes he was out and we sat down to breakfast. "We're off to London for the day." "Hey! Why?" "Oh, this and that. There are some people we need to visit. Maybe we can do some fun things too. I mean, ordinary fun things." He smiled. "So, life isn't only sex, then? Shame." I laughed at him. "Junior sex fiend! Oh, you'll have plenty of sex. Or rather, of sex things. You'll see." It was another sunny day, with the combines crawling across fields as we drove, filling the air with the dust and fresh straw smell of harvest time. I knew I would never forget these hot, bright days. He had brought some of his cassettes with him, and I indulged him by putting up with the endless throbbing disco. Remember that? "Now, Tim, we're going to be meeting some other Masters," I said, as we started to thread through the roads of north London. The heat was making the city even grubbier than usual, the dusty pavements gasping for rain, the people moving slowly in summer clothes. "There are various rules. Try to observe them. It reflects well on me if you do. Always walk a step behind me, to one side. Call me 'Master', and the other Masters 'Sir'. If we meet any slaves, call them 'Sir' too. You'll be junior to them." "Slaves! Am I a slave, then?" "Technically, yes, and I shall refer to you as my slave. I don't actually like the word much, but one must follow the conventions." "I don't mind. Slave!" He shivered. "It's, well, kind of exciting." "You would say that! But I expect more from you than you'd expect from a 'slave'. Treat them all with respect, although some of them are fairly pathetic, frankly." "How do you mean?" "Well. Every slave wants to submit. You understand. You do too. Remember yesterday, in bed? It's all too easy to let a slave really give himself up. I expect more of you than that. You must be a person as well. I don't go for zombies." "I love you." "Most slaves are trained to look at the floor all the time. That's one convention you will not follow. Hold your head up, even before the Masters. Don't be insolent about it; just do it. If anyone tries to stare you out, look away, not down. Never down. You are MY slave, don't forget it, and we have standards to maintain. We are us! We are tremendous!" "Yes, sir!" "Don't sit down unless I tell you. If food or drink is offered, let me say 'yes' or 'no' for you. If a Master asks you questions, look briefly at me before answering, then answer in a quiet voice, simply and factually. If a Master wishes to give you an instruction, he will ask me first. Don't obey instructions from anyone unless I tell you to. Offer no opinions. Don't joke. Don't smile. Never speak unless you are spoken to. Do you understand?" "I - I hope so. It sounds a bit frightening." "Don't worry. They will make allowances, because you are very new. And young. But if possible, I rather they didn't have to make allowances. You are worth more than that. You are the best. You have no need to be ashamed in front of anyone." "Thank you, sir." "If you're alone with other slaves, be polite and defer to them. You may find that some of them are arseholes and try to take advantage of you. If so, here is a direct order: do not submit to anything demeaning or humiliating from a slave." "I understand." "Don't worry. It'll be fun." He smiled at me. 27 A visit ---------- The house we had arrived at was like any other in the area, built in the nineteen twenties, a well-kept garden. I stood at the door, Tim behind me, and rang. There was brief pause, and the door was opened by a young man I knew. "Good morning, sir," he said. "Please come in." "Thank you, Andrew." We stepped into the hall. "Are you well?" "Thank you, sir, yes, the Master is very well, as am I. The Master is downstairs, sir, and he invites you to join him with your slave." "Thank you. Please lead the way." "Yes, sir." He led us along the corridor, through a door and down a flight of steps. I could hear Tim following me. Through another door and into Paul's dungeon. Paul was clearly engaged in a whipping. His victim, a young man in his twenties, was strung up against a pillar, his arms over his head. His weeping and groans filled the room. Along the wall a row of four other men, some young and some older, stood naked, their hands cuffed behind them. Paul's usual decor of smoking torches in sconces, low red lights and braziers made the atmosphere hot and leaden. The room stank of burning tallow, sweat and semen. I thought of Tim lying in the Chair with the bright afternoon light on his skin, and sighed. I've been spoilt, I thought. "My dear David," said Paul, handing the flogger to Andrew and kissing me. "How wonderful to see you again." Paul's a tall, handsome man in his sixties, with more than a touch of camp about him. And as I knew from first hand, he's one of the best trainers in the business. Fourteen years ago it had been me standing in line by that wall, with the bastard I called Master paying for me to be there. If it weren't for Paul, god knows what would have happened to me. That was then. But we kept in touch. "Good to see you too, Paul. Still keeping busy, I see." "Lord, yes. A whipping a day keeps the doctor away, eh, Andrew?" "Yes, Master. Exercise is certainly very beneficial." "He keeps an eye on me, you see, David. Proper exercise, adequate sex, moderate amounts only of good organic food, early to bed and early to rise. I sometimes wonder who's the Master and who's the slave." "I am in very little doubt of the distinction, Master, I can assure you." I looked at Andrew with interest. He had grown well, an assured, well-adjusted slave, who knew exactly the right level at which to approach his Master. "Isn't he a poppet?" Paul slapped his arse. "But who is this? Is this him? Your new slave? David, he's a child. Chicken. Have him come over here." I nodded to Tim, who moved over to Paul, and to my delight gave him a small bow. "So, boy, how old are you?" "Answer Paul's questions, Tim." "Yes, Master. I'm fourteen, sir." "Aren't you very young for this?" "My Master decided I was old enough." "Decided, did he? When was that?" "Yesterday, sir." "Yesterday? Fast work. Dear god, you're beautiful. He's adorable, David. I really must congratulate you." "Thank you." "I'll measure him now, and we'll do the other thing. Then you can come back this evening." "Right. Here?" "Lord, no. Come upstairs. Andrew, will you carry on with this? I want this one," he gestured to the post, "to pass out. Do it slowly. After that, give each of the others twenty-five." "Yes, Master." "Andrew's doing well," I said as we left. "Very excellently, yes. He's an excellent slave, and he will be an excellent Master. Just like you. And is Tim Master material, David?" "I don't think so, no. He is a true and complete submissive." "Rare, but very, very lovely when you find it." 28 A gift --------- We climbed the stairs. I looked back at Tim and winked, and he straightened up. Paul led the way into another room. It was a complete contrast, spartan, bright and clean. White walls and surgery furniture. Along one wall was a workbench, with the tools of Paul's craft, and facing the window, a small but exquisite version of _Exact Endeavour_. "Now. Come over here, lad." He took a tape measure from the workbench and carefully measured Tim's wrists and neck. He had him lie on a table and measured his ankles. He measured his head and used dental moulds to get the size and shape of his mouth. "Right. Hop down now, son." "Yes, sir." Tim obeyed, and Paul smacked his arse, hard. He didn't even flinch. "I have the ring ready, David. Took Andrew and me half the night. I hope the child is worth it." "He is." "Here, what do you think?" He passed me the ring I had requested. It was about half an inch in diameter, and, I knew, made of an alloy which was inert and so hard that it would take a pair of bolt-cutters to get through it. In tiny letters on it were my initials: DB. The open ends contained an internal catch. Once squeezed together it would not come loose. It was meant to be more-or-less permanent. "It's beautiful, Paul. Tim, look at this. Do you see my initials? This is for you. Have you ever had your ear pierced?" Tim's eye's widened. "No, never, Master." Paul snapped on some rubber gloves. "Do you want to do the piercing yourself, David?" "Yes please. Do you have some gloves for me? Thanks." I put the gloves on, and with the things Paul gave me, carefully cleaned Tim's right ear-lobe. Paul gave me a needle. I held it up for Tim to see. I was holding him by the shoulder, and I could feel him tremble. "Now, Tim. Usually this is done quickly, but I want you to feel it. Stay absolutely still." I put the needle to his ear-lobe, and slowly pushed. I felt the skin give. A thin, high-pitched noise came from Tim, but he didn't move. Slowly I pushed the needle through. "That's fine, I'd better take over now," said Paul. In a moment the ring was through the hole. Then with a pair of pliers he pressed it till the ends joined. Ten years later, Tim still wears it. He turned to me, two tears hesitating in his eyes, and I kissed him. "Thank you, Master," he whispered. "Right, David, you know the drill. Bathe with this and turn it every day." He handed me a bottle. "Will you stop for a cup of tea?" "No, we must be off. We need to see Damian." "Everything in one day, eh? Oh well, I'll see you this evening." He showed us to the door himself; Andrew was still busy in the basement. 29 Traffic ---------- We drove off into the traffic. "I nearly came when you did that. That was so, so hot! Usually I'm terrified of injections and things like that." "It's permanent. There's almost no way to get it off." "There'll be a problem at school, then. We're not allowed ear-rings." He giggled. "Aren't you? Why didn't you say?" "Question your actions in front of another Master? I don't think so." I leant across and kissed him. "You're really into this, aren't you? You were perfect with him. Why did you bow?" "It seemed the right thing to do." "Yes. He was tickled pink. He's my old Master, you know. I very much wanted to impress him. Thank you." "You were a slave? That's amazing." "I was his slave for two years. My Master sent me to him to be trained. Most Masters who are any good have been slaves." "David, don't send me to someone else to be trained. Please. I want to stay with you." "'Course I won't. Why should I pay someone else to have the fun?" "That dungeon was a bit... well, a bit much." "He goes for the atmospherics. I go for sweetness and light." He laughed. "Will you whip me, like that? Whip me till I," he gulped, "till I pass out?" "I shall definitely whip you," I promised. "Probably not till you pass out, unless you pass out unexpectedly. I don't really approve of making people pass out. It's not good for them. Neither does Paul, of course, and Andrew's well aware of that. He won't make that guy pass out. Actually," I added, meditatively, "you may wish you could pass out in the end. Which is worse, a stroke so hard that it makes you pass out? Or, say, a hundred which just make you scream?" He was silent for a moment. I wondered if I'd gone too far. Then he seemed to shake himself. "Where next?" "Well, we'll have to brave the traffic in the Centre. Next stop, Soho!" It took ages to find somewhere to park, of course, but finally we did. We walked through the bustle, past the gay pubs and bars and shops. Everywhere we went he caught people's eyes, and I knew he noticed. "Remember," I said, "Be proud! We are us!" He straightened, and smiled at me. We arrived at an inconspicuous door between two shops. I rang the bell, and waited. 30 Two head jobs ---------------- Damian himself opened the door. He was a youngish man, very handsome. He had been a slave of an old friend of mine, and he still treated me with some respect. I had put a lot of business his way; I respect his work. "Come in, come in. It's good to see you, David." We kissed. "Please introduce us?" "This is Tim, my slave. Tim, this is Master Damian." "It's good to meet you, Tim." Tim bowed. "Thank you, sir." Damian looked at him for a long while. Then he sighed. "Time passes, doesn't it?" "Yes. But it doesn't get worse." He clapped my arm. "Come on up." Stairs led straight up from the door, and we followed him up into a large room. One other man was standing there, about the same age as Damian. He stood with eyes lowered. "This is Max, my slave." I nodded to him. Damian made a cup of coffee for me, and we chatted for a while, exchanging news about friends. Tim and Max stood silently. I think that out of my friends on the scene, Damian is one of the easiest to know. Some people's 'masterly' attitudes can get hard to take. "Right!" he said. "Let's get on with it. If you would get this young man naked, David?" I nodded to Tim, and he neatly undressed, folding his clothes and putting them on a chair. Damian's room was quite cool, and Tim's tanned skin was goosepimpled. He suddenly looked very small and young. "Excellent," said Damian, who had produced a tape measure and a pair of calipers. Immediately he measured Tim's dick, before he could get hard. Then he went over him minutely, waist size, between the legs, the size of his balls, the circumference of his legs, everything. "Please ask him to get hard, now." I nodded to Tim, noticed the confusion in his eyes and reinforced my order with a firm look. He was already half hard. He started to beat himself off. "Enough!" said Damian. He measured Tim's hard dick with care. "You're very beautiful, Tim." Damian's hands were still on him. "Th-thank you, sir." "Charming. Tell me, David, has he ever had sex with anyone else, apart from you?" "Tim?" He hesitated. "No, sir; well, not really sex." "Ah, a bit of doctors and nurses behind the bike sheds, I suppose." But it wasn't that. I could see the panic in Tim's eyes. He didn't want to talk about this. Damian saw it too, and didn't push it. "Perhaps Max could do him a favour," he said. Tim's eyes held another kind of confusion now, and I loved it. "Yes, that would be nice." "Max?" said Damian. "Come over here and suck him." Max obeyed with a smile. As his dick entered the mouth of the kneeling slave, Tim gave a groan. I could see his face, open-mouthed, completely mad looking, over Max's shoulder. "Don't come yet," I told him. He looked at me with wide incomprehending eyes. Max was clearly an expert. He teased Tim mercilessly, bringing him to the edge again and again. It was a beautiful sight; Tim's confusion and reluctance were delicious. "You have permission to come," I told him, some minutes later. "Bring him off, Max," said Damian. Within seconds, Max had obeyed. Tim grasped his head and screamed, bucking in his mouth, and then collapsed. I moved to lift him up. He clung to me frantically. "Say thank-you to Max," I said. Weeping, he turned to the other slave and bowed. "Thank you, sir." My stomach turned to water. "Delightful," said Damian. "Now, your things will be ready this evening. Also the rest of the list you gave me." "Thanks. You'll have my cheque." "Of course, I'll waive the fee if I could try out his lovely arse." Tim looked at me in utter horror. "Okay," I said, "Why not?" The look of betrayal in Tim's face nearly made me stop. But not quite. This was important; he had to learn. "Marvellous. Bring him over here, then. Doggy-style, I think. I'm in a doggy-style sort of mood. Lie over this table, Tim." Tim obeyed. He was hating it, and hating me, but he obeyed. I don't think I had ever loved him so much. "Spread your legs a little. That's better. So beautiful. And you've never done this, David?" "Never. You'll be the first." "I'm honoured. I may not be as big as your Master, Tim, but I think I can still make you squeal." Max helped him undress, and all the time Tim lay there, tears pouring from his eyes. "Shame in a way that your Master won't be your first. That he won't be the first to push into you. The first is always the first. I will always be your first, Tim," he went on, twisting the knife again and again, "Not your Master, me. This is something you'll never share with him. There's never another first time. A piece of you will always be mine, Tim, always, not his, no matter what happens. I'm going to take your arse, boy, I'm going to possess you..." Tim's weeping was almost a scream now, his body writhing in his distress. Damain's finger touched Tim's arsehole for the first time, stroking it with lubricant. And at that moment, Tim safeworded. "That's it," I said. "That's his safeword." Tim hurtled from the table into my arms, screaming and weeping. "I let you down! I did it! I just couldn't - I couldn't!" I let him weep. Damian gave me a 'wow' look, and left the room with Max. We were alone. I sat him down, and looked into his face. "Tim," I said. He looked at me in utter misery and defeat. "I have never been more proud of you than at this moment." Tears were still streaming down his face. "Something happened which you just couldn't handle. You tried, I saw you try. You really tried. But you couldn't. So you safeworded." I lifted his face to look at mine. His mouth was open, astonished. "That's what your safeword is for. That's why you have it. I wanted you to use it." I stroked his hair. "That's why I set this up with Damian." "You - you didn't mean to... Then you weren't going to give me to him like that?" "No. I wanted something impossible, and I knew this would be it." He looked at me in amazement. I could see his soul being turned upside down before my eyes. It was lovely. "Then, then everything's all right?" "Of course. More than all right. Everything's perfect. I couldn't be more pleased and proud if I tried." I licked his eyes, his face. He recognised the gesture, and laughed. We laughed together. "Put your clothes on," I said. "Let's go." 31 More truths -------------- We sat in a small restaurant. I watched in awe as he ploughed through his lunch. They knew me here. We had taken a table in a corner, away from the others, quiet. A version of a mandala I didn't recognise hung on the wall. "Mmm," he said, "I'm famished!" "So I see. Well, did you learn something this morning?" "Why did you let him blow me?" "Well, it was possible you would safeword then. But you didn't. So we went ahead. We thought it would make you more, well, impressionable afterwards." "What if I hadn't done it when Damian... you know. Then." "I knew you would. Damian was really cruel in what he said. But just supposing you hadn't, well, you'd have had a nice fuck. He's supposed to be very good at it. He'd have given you a good ride." "Bastard!" he laughed. "You can wreck me so easily!" "I'm your Master," I said. "Of course I can." He smiled at me. The storm was over, and he was feeling good. "But you see, Tim, there really are things which even you can't handle. You didn't believe me, but maybe you can see it now. No-one can handle everything, and you're no exception." "Okay. I can see it. 'My body is yours...' It wasn't easy to keep that in my mind when you had given me away to someone else." I flinched. I hadn't quite realised how cruel we had been. "Never given away. I'll never give you away. Never. I couldn't even if I wanted to." I squeezed his leg under the table, and he laughed. "When are you going to hurt me? Really hurt me, I mean. You haven't, yet." "Tim, dear love, I hurt you this morning. There are lots of kinds of hurt." He mulled this over. "I think I'd prefer the other kind." "You don't get to choose. Remember? I'm your Master." He looked at me seriously. I waited. There was something coming. Then he hit me with it. "You know, it's been years since I was whipped." I literally dropped my knife and fork. He wasn't crying. The pain must be too old, and too deep. But his face was solemn. "Who whipped you?" "Oh, don't worry, it wasn't for fun." There was a touch of cynicism in his voice. I was appalled. "For fun! Years ago! Of course it bloody wasn't for fun. Not fun for you anyhow, anyone can see that. Tim, who was it? What happened?" "It happened lots of times. But don't make me talk about it. Please? Not today, okay?" I paused. "Okay." "I've never talked about it. Never told anyone about it. I try not to think about it. But, but I thought you ought to know." My mind whirled. We were going to have to stop. We couldn't carry on. The roots of everything we were doing seemed suddenly corrupt and vicious. I stared at him. "Dear god, Tim. Of course I ought to know. If I had known, I'd never have... What can you think of me? We must stop this at once! This is so, so wrong!" "Oh no." He was crying again now, quietly, the tears running down his cheeks. "You don't get it? Have I spoiled everything again?" "Tim!" "Don't you see? Everything we do is something I've got back. It isn't wrong. It's right. Everything we do, it's right. You help me with everything you do. Everything you show me. Once we've done it, then it doesn't matter any more that HE did it. Don't you see? It's so wonderful. Every thing that happens, I'm a bit freer from him." "Oh, my god, Tim!" I was crying too, now. He touched my face. "My Master mustn't cry. Be my Master. Don't stop. Please." Now he was comforting me. I grabbed his hand, pressed it hard. "That's why we have to do everything," he said. "Everything. I know this is right. Everything." He waited. "Okay. Everything," I said. Suddenly, I felt strength flood back into me. We would do this. It was even better, even more important than I had thought. "I'm not looking forward to being whipped again," he said. "I'd rather not think about that just now." He smiled. "Anyhow, HE did other things as well. You can guess. That's another reason why it has to be you, not Damian. Or anyone else, I've nothing against him, I'm sure he's very nice. But it has to be you." I stared at him. Another blow to the belly, but I wouldn't let him see it. "It will be me. Promise. No-one else." I was terrified at the thought of what we had been playing with this morning. Of what could have happened. He saw it. "Don't worry so much. It didn't happen, did it?" I laughed. "Damn, you're so bright." "Sure I am. I'm taking ten GCSEs this autumn. That's years ahead. I'm a fucking genius, I am." "I won't forget it." It was hard to see precisely whose mind had been fucked the most today. "We're a mess," I said, wiping his face with a napkin. "I tell you what. It'll be some time before Damian and Paul have finished your things." "What things, anyhow? What is all this measuring and so on?" "You'll see. Anyhow why don't we, let's see, go to the Planetarium? Ever been there?" 32 An afternoon out ------------------- He hadn't, so we went. Fortunately I knew someone there, and we were able to sneak in the back, skipping the queue. Tim thought this was priceless. We lay in the dark, holding hands, staring at the false sky as the show went on. We were like two teenage lovers in the cinema. When the lights came up, I saw that he had fallen asleep. I pushed him gently, and he stirred and opened his eyes. "Mmm?" "Come on, son, let's go." He smiled and stood up. I looked at my watch. We still had time to take in Madame Tussaud's if he wanted to. He did. Fortunately my friend was able to get us in there, or we would have had a long wait. "I have my price," he laughed, as he let us in through a side door. "A kiss. From him." Tim looked at him and smiled. He was older than me, but he had a kind face. Tim gave him the works. With tongues. I was flabbergasted. "Well!" I said, as my friend left us. "So? I've already let a total stranger suck my dick today. What's a kiss? He was nice to us." "Tart!" "Pimp! Child abuser!" I chased him and tickled him, with the usual shrieking results. Some of the customers shushed and tutted us. I've always found waxworks a disappointment, kitsch and pointless. Tim seemed to share my feelings. A replica Margaret Thatcher? What for? I suggested the Chamber of Horrors, but he just found this absurd, walking round giggling at the exhibits. When we came to a mockup of a torture chamber, though, he was horrified and outraged. "How can they do that?" he muttered to me. "How can they show these things for people to gloat over? It's horrible." "But we actually DO them. Well, some of them." "That's quite different. You know it is. That's what - lunchtime was all about. It's not the same at all, or I'd never let you do it." "You're right, actually. I never liked this place. Let's go." Fortunately a group of stuffed-looking wax MPs on the way out restored his sense of the absurd. We left. We were just before the evening rush, and managed to get to Damian's place with little difficulty. "D'you know," said Tim, as we waited at the door, "I'm actually embarrassed to meet him again." "Don't be. He's an experienced Master. It's all in a day's work for him." Max answered the door and followed us upstairs. While he was making me a cup of coffee, Damian appeared, carrying two large boxes. "Here we are. Hello, Tim. No hard feelings?" Tim glanced at me, then bowed. "I apologise for using my safeword, sir." "Apology accepted. We wanted you to, anyway. Come here." He obeyed, and Damian kissed him gently.