Date: Thu, 15 Jun 2000 18:57:29 BST From: Jack Rowan Subject: The Story of Tim - part 8 THE STORY OF TIM - part 8 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 ====================================================================== 45 Tidying up ------------- The phone rang as we were drinking coffee on the patio. "I'll go," said Tim, starting from his seat. I heard him pick up the phone and then his voice. "David Branver's residence." I choked on my coffee. "Yes ma'am, I'm very well, thank you... I should say everything is going well, but perhaps you should ask my Master... Please hold on, ma'am, I'll see if he's available." He came back to me. "It's Chris. She'd like to speak to you." I went to the phone. "Hello, Chris." "You've got him well trained." "That was entirely his idea." "Then I take it everything is going well?" "Chris, it's amazing. I hadn't any idea... When I think how young he is..." "You're gibbering. Oh well, I'll get it out of you in the end. Can I ask you a favour?" "I owe you Chris, god knows. Of course you can." "Invite me to supper. This evening. Also - I'd like to bring someone. A client-slave. Would that be possible?" Damn it. Just when all I wanted a long, quiet evening with Tim, ending with a long, slow, voluptuous fuck. But I was right. I did owe her. "A client-slave? Is that sensible? With Tim here? I don't like to be suspicious, Chris, but I'm looking at five to ten years here, and some ghastly children's home for him." "Oh, don't worry, he's plenty compromised already, believe me. I'm not a total idiot, you know, David." She wasn't, of course. Still, _Wise Doubt_ came into my mind. I didn't like it. "Okay. What's this all about?" "Just play it by ear, will you? Will Tim be there?" "Of course. Tim will always be here." She laughed and rang off. The next hour was frantic. The house hadn't been cleaned for nearly a week. Tim hoovered and went round with a cloth, I cooked. "Have you looked after the Chair?" "No. I thought you..." "No. Basic rule. The slave looks after the equipment. It instills the right attitude. There's some leather polish under the sink, and wipe down the metal bits." I heard him at work, and a bit later he was back. He stood before me, eyes to the ground, hands behind his back, giving me his Princess Di look. "Have I got the right attitude now, mithter?" he lisped. I slapped his bum. "God. What a disgusting display. Go and get a shower, then I'll change you into your other belt and you can get dressed." A few minutes later, fresh and clean, I unlocked him and started to put the other belt on. "Um... I'll take a dildo now, if you like." "You certainly would if I liked. But in fact I don't like. I'd rather keep you nice and tight. For later, after they've gone. We'll see how much it hurts then, when you aren't half mad." He grinned and kissed me. He hadn't any formal clothes, I realised, so we compromised on his unworn pair of jeans, trainers and a white shirt, with his waistcoat. He brushed out his hair. He looked stunning. "Now, Tim, you've met Chris before. But she is a Mistress, and an important one, and this a formal scene occasion, so show proper respect. The other person is a client-slave." "What's that?" "He is one of Chris's slaves, but only a temporary one. He pays her." "Pays her?" "Pays her to be his Mistress and do the sort of things we do. You know, every second Tuesday afternoon, a 2:30 appointment, sort of thing." "She does it for money?" "There's nothing wrong with that. She does a lot of good with it. Lots of people have good and happy lives because she gives them an outlet. And she's very good at it." "Okay." "A client-slave is not as important in our world as a full slave, like you. So you shouldn't call him 'sir'. But remember, he may be much older than you, and maybe very important in his ordinary life, so be polite." "Yes, sir." 46 Chris -------- "Neville will be along in a few minutes," said Chris when I answered the door bell. She was wearing one of her black dresses, and heels, with her hair blown into a vast cloud, black lipstick and iridescent eyeshadow. Her presence was enormous; she seemed to fill the whole room. "Tim. You look lovely. Come over here, let me look at you." Tim bowed deeply. She towered over him, and stared into his eyes. "That just-been-fucked-for-the-first-time look. So lovely. I love ex-virgins, don't you, David?" "I love that one, anyhow," I called from the kitchen. She stalked across the room. "Have you whipped him yet? Does he scream prettily?" "No, and yes." "So, THAT kind of fuck. Did David fuck you well and hard, then, Tim?" I looked round the corner to see Tim's response to this. "My Master treated me well, as always, ma'am, and I am very happy." He laid stress on the word "Master"; it was very delicate, but it was there. "My god! You cheeky imp!" She shrieked with laughter. "David, he's priceless. You aren't go to turn him into one of those miserable cowed wretch slaves, are you?" "Hardly." The door bell rang. "That must be Neville now." "Answer the door, will you, Tim?" I called. "No," said Chris. "Better do it yourself, David." I dried my hands and went, slightly mystified. "Don't let yourself be intimidated by Neville, Tim," I heard her say. "But be polite, if you possibly can, okay? He's an important man." "Yes, ma'am." I opened the door, and found a middle-aged, rather stocky man waiting for me. With a shock, I recognised his face. Most British people would. A man of power and wealth. Someone with a lot to lose. I was impressed by his courage in getting involved in our world. "I am David. Please come in." He bowed, with a slightly condescending style, I thought. But his bow to Chris was genuine enough. "Mistress." And turning to Tim: "Oho! And who is this little darling?" "This is Tim, my slave," I said. "How do you do?" said Tim, holding out his hand. Neville misgave for a moment, and then shook his hand. "Looks as if this evening might be more fun that I thought, eh?" He chuckled meaningly. I found myself disliking him intensely. "Bit older than I generally like, Mistress, but still, very nice." "Tim is Master David's slave. David is a Master and your host. You will act with proper courtesy." Chris seemed to grow before my eyes. Neville flushed, and bowed deeply to me. "My apologies, sir." "Accepted, of course." I couldn't say otherwise. He was Chris's slave, though what the hell she was doing bringing him here I had no idea. I glanced at Tim. He seemed to be trying not to laugh. Possibly he hadn't understood some of the implications of what Neville had said. "Tim will serve. Do you mind if he eats with us?" "By all means," said Chris. "And Neville too?" "Of course." 47 Dinner-dance --------------- Tim served the soup. Very well, I thought, considering how little training I'd had time to give him. Then he sat to eat with us. Chris and I made small talk. I wondered what all this was about; I still had no inkling of the catastrophe which was brewing. The slaves ate in silence, but Neville was devouring every inch of Tim with his eyes. Tim acted as if he was unaware of this, but he couldn't fail to have noticed. I felt ashamed at putting him through this embarassment. "Tim, please clear away the dishes and serve the main course." I looked at him, trying to signal my support. He winked at me. He served us and sat down again. "It's a problem to know what to serve, Chris, because of course so many people are vegetarians these days, and, well, there wasn't much time. So it's a mushroom flan. I hope that will be okay?" "That's fine. That's fine, isn't it, Neville?" "Thank you, sir, ma'am, that will be very good. I don't eat much meat, although I admit a bit of chicken is very nice. I'm sure you agree, sir." He eyed Tim with frank lust. "I think you understand me, sir? How fortunate you are, to have this fine young boy to serve you." "Yes, I am very fortunate." "Of course, I'm sure you make it very worth his while, don't you, sir? Or perhaps you have an arrangement with his parents? I find they can often be obliging, with suitable inducement." I was about to jump at him, but Chris put a hand on mine. The man seemed honestly unaware that we would see anything wrong in what he was saying. "Come on, boy," he went on, "How much does he pay you? How much for a piece of your arse, eh? I can be generous, you know." Tim had turned white with shock. But still he turned to me for permission to speak. Chris was still holding me back. Horrified, I nodded. "I don't think I'm for sale." God, how I loved him! "Not for sale! All these little tarts are the same, aren't they, sir? Hold out on you till the end. Prick-teasers. Sluts and tarts, all of them, little cumbag shitholes." He was shouting at Tim now, leaning across the table and yelling. "I know all about them, I know how to tame them. It'll take a few hefty punches, won't it? That's what it'll take, slapping you about a bit, eh? A few kicks in the stomach, and a few big dicks tearing your arse inside out, that's it, isn't it? As well as a bloody great bag of money, and then you'll come across, won't you? Then it's 'fuck me, fuck me' all of sudden, isn't it, you stuck-up snotty-faced prick- teasing little whore?" He had risen almost to his feet, and yelled the last sentence straight into Tim's face. And with that, Tim broke. He stood, his chair fell, his eyes blazed. "I am the full slave of Master David," he yelled. "I am that by my free choice. I have his ring and his collar, and I wear them from my choice alone, and I don't care if you are Lord ---, you will treat me with the respect due to my rank and to my Master!" He was magnificent. I felt like cheering. And of course the man was indeed Lord ---. "I've known bastards like you. Seven years old I was when they got me first. A few hefty punches! I know all about that! And the big dick tearing me, and the blood and the agony, again and again and again, and no-one to help me in the world! Bastards like you! Well, I've grown up now, and I have a Master who loves and protects me. I'm not a terrified seven-year-old any more, and if you lay one finger on me I'll fucking kill you!" He was shaking with rage. I gaped. This bastard had really hurt him, and I had sat there and let it happen. I stood up, brushing Chris aside. This had gone on far too long. Tim gasped. Then he turned to Chris. "I'm sorry, ma'am, I mean no disrespect to you." "There is no disrespect. I'm really sorry about this. Let me introduce you to Master Martin, as he is called. He has been sent by certain interested parties who have heard about you, and felt it necessary to make sure that what was happening between you was, was not abusive. David, Tim, I'm so sorry." Neville, or Martin, was smiling across at me. I felt like punching his face. Tim came to me and fell on his knees, clasping my legs. I lifted him up, and then I heard him whisper in my ear, "Daffodil". He buried his face in my shoulder. I gave them a look of thunder. "Tim has just used his slowword. You will excuse us." 48 Some goodbyes ---------------- I led him to my room. He sat on the edge of the bed screaming and weeping. "Oh God, David, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. But when he came out with all that stuff, it just came welling up, you know, and I've tried so hard to forget it. And now I just see it all going round in my head again, I can see all their faces, and... and all sorts of horrible things, round and round and I can't stop them any more. Oh, help me, David!" "I'm here, I'm here, we'll get through it together. Nothing can hurt you now, it's all over..." He wept and screamed, and for a long time, perhaps half-an-hour or more, we sat together as I soothed him, hugging and kissing. And gradually he calmed. "David. Fuck me. Fuck me now. Fuck me just like he did, and heal me. I need it, David..." "I will, I will, love. Just let me get them to shove off." He smiled at me bleakly. I went back to the living room. They were standing by the table. Martin, or whoever he was, had stopped smiling at least, I was glad to see. "You have done Tim a grave injury, Master." "I see that that is so. We could hear." "Didn't your 'interested parties' consider the possibility that he might have been abused?" "No, they did not. But you must consider things from our point of view. We had to make sure that you, yourself, were not abusing him." "Did you? Did you? And who gives you that right?" "We have no right. Like you, like anyone, we have a duty to deal with the evil we encounter." "I suggest, then, that your skills are not adequate for the task that you have set yourselves. And that, Master, is a recipe for abuse, as we all know, and as we have seen this evening. Because of your stupidity and ignorance, you, who call yourselves Masters, decided it was appropriate to mindfuck my boy, non-consensually." He winced. "I must tell you frankly, Master, I see no evidence from this evening's events that you and your friends have any clear idea at all of the boundaries of abuse, and no particular qualities to lecture the rest of us on the subject. I suggest you return to your principals, whoever the hell they are, and tell them that." "I will tell them what you have said." "I will add: I swore an oath before _Exact Endeavour_ to protect my slave. Tonight I failed. I sat in that chair, and I watched you do it. I did not anticipate such an attack, nor from such a quarter, nor that one of my oldest and dearest friends would be a party to it." I heard Chris gasp, but I was too angry and wretched to pause. "I, myself, am also to blame and now it is my task to try to rectify the damage as best I can, if I'm not to consider myself a dishonoured Master. If I have been unjust, remember that I don't only accuse you." "I don't consider you dishonoured. You couldn't know what I would say." My temper snapped. "I see no reason at all, Master, to value your opinions on a question of honour." He reeled as if struck. "And now I shall return to my boy. Goodnight." I opened the door. He left without a word. "David," said Chris, and I saw she was crying, "David, he'll get better. I know he will. David..." "A day I wanted him to look back on with joy has been ruined. The 'just-been-fucked-for-the-first-time' look, remember? The 'ex-virgin', remember?" "Oh, David!" she cried. "Goodnight, Chris." I shut the door. I think I had the presence of mind not to slam it. I think I did. 49 Reprise ---------- I paused only for a moment. I shut my eyes to clear my thoughts, and consciously let the anger slip away. Then I prayed briefly. Gradually my mind cleared, and _Deep Undertakings_ came to me. I drank a little wine from one of the glasses on the table and went back to the bedroom. Tim was lying on the bed, naked apart from his belt. A little smile played round his lips. One knee was raised, and his head was on its side, so that he could see me. He had combed his hair. He looked small, vulnerable and altogether lovely. "Come on," he said. "Fuck me. Then you'll feel better." I unlocked his belt and dropped it on the floor. "How?" I said. "Just exactly how did he do it?" "Like this," he whispered. "On my back. With my hands tied to the headboard." "Tied? You really want me to tie them?" "Do it. Please. Please do it." I went and got the chains. And I did it. I tied his hands as he wanted. After all that, he wanted it. I stripped off my clothes. Something fell away with them, some terrible spell, and I felt free and fey and powerful. "And this is where it's different," I said. "Fuck me," he said, and smiled. I ran my hand over his body. Then gently I licked and chewed his tits. He began to gasp. "Oh yes. Oh yes. Nobody's ever done that but you... Oh yes..." I licked his armpits, and all round his neck and down, down to his navel. There he squealed a little, and I licked and licked. I licked his balls gently. By now he was writhing, kicking. I took him in my mouth and sucked him briefly, and he went mad. Then I pulled his legs up, quite firmly and roughly, and my tongue moved down to his hole. I licked it round carefully, and then pressed, and in a moment he let me in with a breathy scream. "Oh god, I can't believe you're doing that, oh god that's so nice, oh David..." I did it again and again, in and out. He tasted as clean as fresh water. Then I lubed my finger, and entered him again. I found his prostate, clean, small and round, and caressed it. "Jesus, David, what's that! God! Oh, don't stop! Oh..." I caressed it mercilessly, stopping only only when I thought he was on the brink. I added another finger, opening him up, and another. By now he was growling deep in his throat, fiercer and fiercer. "Fuck me, damn it David, just fuck me! Just fuck right into me!" I pressed his legs right back. And then, just the head of my dick, just in him. "Say it, Tim. Now say it." "Fuck my baby arse! Fuck me! I want to really feel it!" His voice was suddenly tiny, shrill, and with a kind of horror, I realised what I was hearing. I felt such an anger then as I have never felt before. Weeping, I leant to his mouth, and slowly, slowly I slid into him, deep down into him. His body gripped me deliciously, and I kissed him. I lay deep within him, full on his body, and whispered in his ear: "Who am I, Tim? Who am I?" "David," he whispered back. "You're David. You're David, and I love you." Slowly, ever so slowly, I moved out and back. "Does it hurt?" I whispered. "No, not at all. Not at all. It doesn't hurt at all." His voice was amazed, wondering, and again I felt a fierce bloody anger rise. Then in his full voice: "It's lovely, David. It's really lovely. Fuck me now, David. Really fuck me. Oh yes!" I began to fuck him hard, harder and harder, beating on his prostate, and right down into him, again and again and again. Then his rhythmic groans turned into screams, louder and louder, and then wonderfully and miraculously, he came, and I went right down in the depths of his body and came there again. And I looked into his face as he came, twisted with ecstasy, and knew how brilliant and right everything was. I lay on him and kissed him, and he smiled at me. Suddenly I couldn't bear the chains just then. When I freed him, he jumped at me, flattened me, sat across my chest and leant to kiss me. "And now what's he worth?" I said. He laughed out loud, screamed and laughed. "Absolutely nothing! Absolutely damn and fuck all!" 50 Not a baby ------------- Later, when we were curled together in my bed, I asked him, because I had to know. "Is that what you had to say? Is that what he made you say?" "What, that 'fuck my baby arse' thing? Yes, every time. I had to say it every time. He would beat me with his belt till I said it. I had to say it like I really meant it, sometimes over and over again. And then he'd stop beating me and do it. But it wasn't much better than being beaten. It never hurt less, it never got better." I hugged him till I thought his ribs would crack. "Today is the first time it ever did anything but hurt. I didn't know it could. I was going to put up with it, because I love you so much, but I didn't know it could be good. I hadn't any idea. I couldn't imagine you could actually come from being fucked, just only from being fucked, and now I've done it twice." I laughed gently. "If you like, we'll do it again." "Stupid question. Of course I like." So I entered him from behind, lying on our sides, and slowly took him again. We were a long, long time at it. His body was like a tight silken bandage around me, and his hair smelled of cornfields. And again he came. He was as reliable as clockwork. I caught his come in my hands, and brought it to his mouth, and he licked, and so did I, as my dick softened within him. And then we slept. My last thought was that I should never, never call him 'baby'. I woke with him gently calling my name. He stood by the bed, holding a cup. "A cup of coffee, Master." I smiled and sat up. "Thank you, Tim." He stood and looked at me. "You need to put my belt on. I want to go and have a shower." I looked at him, standing there naked, the belt in his hand, his dick half hard. I longed to see him in it again. But this wasn't the day. "Nope. No belt today. Go and have your shower. But no wanking! I shall ask you." "You said every day." He smiled. "Changed my mind. Master's prerogative. Tomorrow." By the time I was back from my run, he was already making breakfast, dressed in jeans and a tee-shirt. It was yet another sunny day. The fields and meadow were parched, cracking and aching for rain. I went and showered, and we sat to eat. Just then the phone rang. I went and unplugged it. Tim looked at me. "You're not a dishonoured Master," he said. I sat down. "How much did you hear?" "All of it. You think I'd miss it? I was so proud of you." "Um. I was very, very angry." "You were wrong about one thing, though. Yesterday was not ruined. You think that Lord What's His Name with the dandruffy hair could ruin that? No way." I laughed aloud. "Are you sure?" "What a question. You teach me how to fuck, and you think anyone could ruin that? That bastard who used to rape me, that's what it was, rape, you dispose of that, and could that be ruined? Not. A. Chance." "Thanks. That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me, I think." "It's certainly the nicest thing anyone's ever DONE to me, I can tell you that. Dishonoured Master? Phooey. Honoured slave, more like. Very honoured slave. Slave, yer honour. Slave. Slave for ever." "You're gibbering, boy." "What are we going to do today?" "Let's get away from here. How about Manton House? Wildlife Park?" "Yes! I'd like that. I've never been to a wildlife park." "Okay. We'll go. We'll just be ordinary for the day." "Ha! Except for the collar. And the wrist and ankle bands." "I could take them off." "You dare! I'll fight for them. Take them off? What an idea." So off we went.