Date: Tue, 10 Dec 2002 10:52:53 -0500 From: istari Subject: Mastering Alex 26 - 27 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 26: New Rules Robert and Sam stayed for close to an hour, sharing insights with me on the vagaries and protocols of this tight- knit community Alex and I had joined. And it was a community, one that existed in the shadows of everyday reality. I was told it was never to be referred to as a club - `that's for amateurs' they told me - and those who were involved in it, masters and slaves alike, were not to be referred to as members. Associates, friends, family, these were the phrases used and expected, and the implication and expectation of permanence was quite clear. There was, of course, a natural hierarchy, with junior slaves like Alex occupying the very bottom; but everyone, from the most experienced master to the least experienced slave, was treated with respect. Slaves did suffer humiliation at times, after all it is in their nature to do so, but there were limits, and I recalled once more Robert's guiding philosophy, that a slave's basic rights as a human being never be abused or ignored. It is a way of thinking, and a way of treating and raising Alex, that appealed to me deeply. I'd seen the boy grow happier and more confident since our journey together had begun. He was stronger now, inside and out, and yet he'd lost none of his kindness, his compassion, his thoughtfulness, his gentle nature. Alex was a slave, but his beautiful spirit was free. And even as he slept, the three of us continued making plans for the boy's next five days. What we would do to him and make him do, ways to push his endurance to the limit and beyond, games we would play with him to keep him confused and off balance, and awake. Michael diligently sat with pad and pencil between his legs and worked out a suitable schedule for us, ensuring Alex would always have two people watching him while the rest of the household slept in shifts. In the end, I realized, we would all be working a lot harder than Alex himself in the days to come. "Do we tell him, or just do it?" Samuel Collins asked, as he leisurely stroked his little pet boy's back. "That is his master's decision, I believe," Robert replied. All eyes, even young Sebastian's, were on me at that moment. I had to think about it. Knowing Alex like I do, telling him when it began would have been the more cruel and manipulative choice, giving him time to think and worry about the entire five days within the span of a few minutes. Forcing him right into it with no warning also held a certain appeal. He would have no grasp of the larger game being played until he was well and hopelessly committed to it. In the end I chose cruelty. Alex would know and already be dreading it before we even started. "What do you think, Michael?" I asked. The young man nearly dropped his pencil, then looked at his master first before answering me. "I agree with you, sir. I think you should tell him." "No. I think we'll make you tell him, with your master's permission of course," I replied sharply. Robert grinned, as a look of absolute dismay crossed Michael's handsome and still boyish features. "Problem, Michael?" Robert asked darkly. The eighteen-year-old sat up straight. "No, master." "Then it's settled," I announced. "Once the evening is over, we'll bring him back here and begin. Agreed?" Robert and Samuel indicated their approval, and there was a playful, almost wicked smirk in young Sebastian's eyes. Something told me I would need to watch that boy carefully. Not that I expected him to be capable of cruelty, but mischief yes, to a large degree. Michael, in contrast, appeared to be in some far off place, perhaps envisioning his new and unexpected role where my Alex was concerned. With my guests departed, I returned to the bedroom and gazed at the boy beneath the blankets. Alex lay on his right side, one hand beneath the pillow, the other resting gently above it, close to his face. He was beautiful, and in that moment I needed to be with him. Still in my clothes, I pulled the covers back and crawled in beside him. He stirred and groaned at me, then shivered, struck by the panic that often hits when one is awakened suddenly from a deep sleep. "It's just me, Alex," I said quietly, gently squeezing his shoulder. With a soft whimper, he rolled himself over to face me. His hazel eyes were tired, and I saw them dance, just momentarily, in apprehension, wondering what wicked game his master might be up to now. I felt a curious delight that he was beginning to think that way, but also a sudden sadness, as if the closeness we'd shared had somehow slipped away, just a little. I smiled at him, and I suppose my eyes told him it really was just me, his brother, his protector, his lover. There were times when being his master was simply too much for either of us to bear. "You don't have to get up, honey," I told him, as his hand found mine. "I thought you might like some company." "Thanks," Alex said, as I kissed his fingers. "How was it?" I asked. "Being whipped like that." My boy let his head fall back onto the pillow, and he stared straight up at the ceiling, blinking his eyes slowly. "Terrible." "Alex . . ." "I didn't say I wouldn't do it again," he replied, his voice cracking and trembling. "The worst part was knowing you were watching. I couldn't let him beat me. I wasn't going to say my word . . . I wasn't going to let him make me do it . . . even if he killed me." "You know it never would have gone that far . . . but I believe you. Robert says everyone's talking about you." "Cool." "You liked all that attention, didn't you?" "Sometimes," he said, moving close to me so I could wrap my arms around him. "I didn't like that thing he put around my neck." "The yoke?" "Yeah, that." "Humiliating?" Alex nodded slowly. "That was the idea. And know that I know how much you hate it, we'll definitely be getting one for you to wear around the house." He glared at me, but I felt his cock twitch against my leg. It was slowly hardening as the thought of being yoked like an animal ran through his head. "That excites you." "Yes." His voice was small and guilty, and, instinctively, the boy started rubbing himself against me. "No more of that, little man," I told him, pushing him away. His sweet young eyes were desperate. "Please put my belt back on. Please! I can't stand it like this." "You have to learn, Alex. I'm very disappointed in you. You made yourself ejaculate when I was fucking you. You did not have permission to do that." "I'm sorry, Steve. It just felt so good, I couldn't stop." "You could have. You just didn't want to. A slave has no right to pleasure himself." "I know. I'm in trouble, aren't I?" "I won't punish you here, but you're going to be spending several hours in the stocks when we get home, maybe with four or five pounds of lead hanging from your balls." Normally such a comment would have produced some smart remark from him. Instead there was only silence. A sudden thought must have crossed his mind, and it showed on his face. "Are you mad at me?" "Aw, honey, no. I'm not mad." I stroked his arm and shoulder, then his cheek. "I know how hard it is for a boy your age to show restraint, but that's still no excuse. I'm not going to keep you in the belt all the time. That would be too easy for you. From now on, when you're not in your belt, I want you to tell me when you're having an erection. Even when we're out in public, I want to know about it, anytime, anywhere. Understood?" "Yes, sir." "Every erection earns you punishment. It's your job to keep track and tell me how many you had at the end of the day." "Man, my ass is gonna be red forever!" "Probably," I laughed and kissed him on the forehead, and he melted back into my arms. "But there are some exceptions. When you're bound, or chained to your bed, or sleeping in your cage . . . anytime you can't touch yourself, it's okay for you to be hard. And when we're in the dungeon together. I expect you to have an erection then." Alex sighed and snuggled up against me. "I like that." "Do you?" "Yeah. And I've got one right now." "I know you do. But we'll start with a clean slate, alright?" "Ok." "Go back to sleep. I'll wake us up in a few hours." "What'll we do then?" he asked as he rolled over onto his side once more. "You'll see." I got us up around five, the growling of our stomachs making further sleep impossible. I took Alex to the bathroom and cleaned him out with the enema equipment provided. The instructions told me to throw the nozzle attachment away when I was finished, and that another would be provided the next morning. How thoughtful. It was Alex' first cleansing in several days, and it took three full bags, the second with soap, to get everything cleared. The boy whined and moaned as he stayed there on his hands and knees, the tube sticking out of his cute little ass, his ripening balls hanging low between his legs. I rubbed his thighs for him, then reached around and massaged his distended belly, working the warm water deep inside him. He was learning to hold it longer and longer, and he managed to keep the last one in for more than six minutes. The boy was pale and sweating when it was all over. "Alright, wipe yourself." He did, pausing to stick a finger up there and work it around, uttering a sigh from the pleasure he was giving himself. I let him have his fun for a few minutes, my own cock dripping just from watching him. "Get your plug, Lexi," I finally said. He trotted over to the sink and presented it to me, bending over and grabbing his ankles without being told. He'd already managed to get himself loose and moist with his finger, so the cold metal plug went in with relative ease. "mmm," he cooed softly, at once loving and hating the constant pressure inside him. Back in the sitting room, Alex handed me his collar, his young eyes flashing with that wondrous mix of anxiety and excitement. He was ready to go on, I did not need to ask, or doubt. I locked his collar around his neck, running my fingers over the soft leather. "Hug me," he demanded. Those two words were the only orders Alex ever gave, and I always obeyed whenever I heard them. "I love you," I told him, as he buried himself in my strong embrace. I realized I hadn't told him that in a while. He must have read my thoughts. "You don't have to tell me. I know." I held him that much tighter. "Come on," I finally said, letting him go. "We're missing all the fun out there." Alex gave me a smart little smirk. "Go to the armoire and pick out a leash for your collar." I gave him a sharp pat on his rump to get him moving. "I saw a nice silver chain that would look good on you, but it's your choice." He was there and back in an instant, with the exact one I would have chosen for him. Shiny, with small tight links, with a leather loop at the end for the master's use. I attached the chain to the ring in front of his collar and gave him a firm tug, nearly pulling him off his feet. It was shorter than Alex was accustomed to, just three feet long, meant to keep the boy close, which was my intention. I walked him around the room for several minutes so he could learn the new limits on his freedom. "Here's the rule, just for today," I said. "I want to feel you next to me at all times. Your hand, or your shoulder, or your hip. You are never to let yourself out of my reach or out of my touch. Do you understand?" My tone of voice told him this was very important, and I saw just a glimmer of fear in his eyes as he nodded his head. "Yes, sir." Cuffs and harness, and his belt, remained on the floor where they'd come off. Alex gazed at them and then at me, asking his silent question. "I'm going to keep you naked for a while. Let everyone see how adorable you are." Alex gave me his shy trademark smile, but then his face grew thoughtful. "Is that why I need to stay close to you?" "Brilliant deduction, Watson," I answered with a grin. "These people are strangers. I don't want you getting into trouble." Alex knew exactly what kind of trouble I meant, and his expression became serious. "I am going to let people touch you, and play with you," I reached down and fondled his cock, "all they want. But I promise I won't let you go." I wrapped the leather loop around my wrist and pulled him close again. I could tell by his sudden sharp breathing that he was getting nervous. Alex craves touch from those he loves, but he cringes and shrinks from it whenever it comes from other quarters. The silver chain rattled. My poor Alex was shaking. His next words to me were a low whisper. "I'm scared." "I know you are. I also know you'll keep your place and do as you're told." He nodded solemnly. "I won't let you down." "You never have." Pulling him gently behind me, we left our private little sanctuary and returned to the world outside. Chapter 27: Give and Take I hadn't told Alex about what a memorable first impression he'd made under Bartholomew's whip. My boy was surprised and delighted to hear so many masters call his name, or nod respectfully in his direction. He was somewhat less delighted to be naked and on display for them, and he did indeed attract a great deal of attention. I offered him freely, and Alex silently and obediently endured their appreciative hands as they worked over his smooth boyish chest, patted his firm little behind, and fondled his young cock. Alex often closed his eyes and looked away, unable to bear the relentless prodding and scrutiny of one stranger after another. I could tell he was starting to feel overwhelmed, and he blushed red at some of the more pointed comments made about his appearance, his posture, and of course the size of his rather generous endowment. Still, he followed my orders precisely, never allowing himself to stray from my touch, and often pressing himself against me whenever a master was particularly rough with him. "I'm getting hard, sir," he whispered to me on at least five occasions. The thirteen-year-old's frequent erections drew yet more attention his way, and I made him walk with it hard and throbbing and waving in front of him. We did nothing in particular that afternoon. It was enough to mingle and begin meeting others in this hidden world of ours. Masters and slaves alike came in all ages, shapes and sizes, and some of the most experienced slaves, I noticed, were quite masterful in their own right, confident and self-assured. More than a few of them spoke openly to Alex, asking if he was enjoying himself, to which Alex invariably replied 'Yes'; asking what hobbies he had, to which Alex invariably asked 'Other than sex?' which always resulted in smiles and laughter. Never once though did another slave touch him. I did finally pause to load up a scrumptious plate of food for myself, which Alex dutifully carried around with outstretched hands. He ate none of it, nor did he ask. When I'd finished, we went off together and I found him some fruit, and a nice piece of grilled chicken. He put his plate on the ground and gobbled everything down as if I'd not fed him in days. "Slow down, Alex," I laughed. "People will think I'm starving you." "I thought you were going to," he said before tearing another piece of chicken from the bone with his teeth. Alex was just wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, when our host appeared. It was the first time I'd encountered him since our first meeting earlier in the day. He was no longer clad in his refined suit, but now in leather and black denim. Tall and slender, with a formal air about him, still a man of cultured tastes. Thomas, the handsome young door-ward who had welcomed us, was on his left. The teenager was collared, and he wore a thick leather belt and harness around his waist, chains ran from it, ending in a metal clasp that was closed tightly around his ample cock and balls, another set anchoring the butt-plug no doubt firmly seated behind. Cuffs adorned his slender ankles, and his large feet were bare. Still young enough to be naturally smooth and hairless, the boy's tanned skin seemed golden in the fading light of late summer's eve. Beside Thomas stood a younger boy whom I judged to be close in age to Alex, fourteen at most. A little taller perhaps than my own boy, slender but not skinny, young muscles just beginning to develop in his arms and legs. He had brownish-blond hair, and his eyes, when he raised them, were an icy blue. They had a piercing quality that it made it difficult to return his gaze. He was naked, and his body quite handsome with a taut flat stomach and a narrow tapered waist. Smooth limbs lean and wiry. His cock was a pleasing sight, not overly large, not small either, but long and thick and cut, with plump balls dangling below. The boy had pubic hair, light in color and still sparse, but he was surely the only boy here allowed such an honor. It struck me just as Wim was introducing us that this boy was not a slave, at least not like Alex, or any of the others we'd met. "My son Joshua," our host said, gesturing to the attractive lad. Joshua stepped forward and took my hand with a confident smile. His grip was sure and sturdy for one so very young. "Good afternoon, sir," he said in a voice caught somewhere between boy and man. He then rested his eyes on Alex. "I've heard all about you," he said to him in a playful tone, smiling for the first time. "Wish I could've been there to see it. Nearly gave old Barto a heart attack, didn't you?" "I guess so," Alex replied. "I'd sure as hell like to take a crack at you sometime," the boy said with a sly grin. The riding crop Wim carried sailed through the air and landed squarely on Joshua's ass. "I won't tell you again about your language, boy," our host admonished his son. Joshua quickly bowed his head in submission, but I could see a defiant gleam in his blue eyes. "I apologize for Joshua's behavior, Steven. He has the makings of a fine master, but at the moment he is quite a handful. Isn't he, Thomas dear?" Thomas nodded without much emotion. I imagined it must have been quite difficult to take orders from a younger boy. He and Josh exchanged a barbed glare at one another, and it was clear that Wim's slave had little use for Wim's son, and that the opposite was equally true. Wim continued, moving his eyes up and down along Joshua's lean attractive frame. There was not an ounce of fat on the boy, and his skin was perfect and unblemished. Joshua's cock was slowly hardening as he feasted his own young eyes on my Alex. "I believe," Wim said, "that we still have guests that need tending to. That is your job if I'm not mistaken." Joshua gazed at his father with a certain sincere contrition in his eyes. "Nice meeting you, sir," he said to me, then gave Alex a little smile. With exacting, almost military posture, he turned and walked away, offering me a tantalizing view of his cute teenaged ass. "See that he stays out of trouble, Thomas. I'll whip the hide off you if he doesn't." The sixteen-year-old slave took the threat seriously, and ran off after his young master-in-training. "Together they keep me quite busy," Wim said with a sigh as he watched them disappear beneath a nearby canopy filled with mingling masters and subdued slaves. "I'll bet they fight like brothers." I winked at my own flesh and blood and my little brother risked a quiet laugh. Wim looked at me and then at Alex, and a sardonic smile crossed his face. "And who wins when the two of you go at it, may I ask?" came his sharp reply. Alex chuckled again. "You might be surprised," I said. "There are times when I wonder who's really the master, and who's really the slave." Our host smiled at me, an expression that told me he understood and shared those feelings. "That often happens with the more . . . shall we say . . . aggressive submissives. They know their place, but they are demanding nonetheless. Thomas can still wear me out. I'm sure Alex leaves you breathless much of the time." "For all sorts of reasons." I held Alex close and he leaned his head against me. Brothers and lovers, just for instant, and then he was back standing in wait beside his master. "I would very much like to introduce him to the group," Wim said. "Would you like that, young man?" I gave the boy a silent tap on the wrist to let him know I expected him to answer. I could actually see the thrill running through him, the very idea of standing naked in front of everyone left him trembling. "Sir, I would like that very much." And in spite of his obvious fear, I knew he was not lying. "And will you be joining our hunt this evening?" The thirteen-year-old's expression told me he really had no idea what to make of such a question, or which answer was expected. Out of his depths, Alex looked at me. I was not about to let the little slave off the hook. I liked him dangling there at my mercy. "Answer the master's question, boy," I said, smacking his backside. Alex turned his attention to Wim once more, and spoke in a soft, quiet voice, which again reminded me of just how young he was. "I don't know anything about hunting, sir. What would I have to do? I mean, I won't have to kill anything, will I?" Wim and I both laughed at the boy's innocent questions, that is until our host's expression suddenly cooled and that wicked gleam I'd seen so often from Robert filled his eyes. "Oh, you won't be one of the hunters, dear boy," he said, moving forward and gently touching his fingers to Alex' cheek. "We have a special role for you." Always bright and perceptive, Alex needed no further hints as to his fate. I wasn't sure what to expect of him at that moment, but he turned to me with brave determination in his hazel eyes. I put my hands on his shoulders and gazed down at him. I knew by his expression that it was now his turn not to let me off the hook. He was not going to volunteer. He was going to force me to make him do it. Our eyes locked for what seemed the longest time. All the complexity of our relationship was laid bare for us in that moment. All the love, all the pleasure, all the compassion, all the hate, all the pain, all the indifference. And in the end, Alex was my slave. That was all that really mattered anymore. "You will do it," I said coldly. "I will do it," he replied the same. "Then come with me," Wim said. "We had best get you ready. Have you eaten?" His question was directed at Alex. "Yes, sir." "Not much I hope." Alex actually glared at me. It was playful, but a glare nonetheless. "No, sir. My master has not fed me much today." "Just as it should be, little colt." Wim lead us back to the large pavilion where we had first met his acquaintance. A quintet of naked slaves was busily erecting a low stage for the evening's festivities, and tomorrow's auction. I realized these five young men were the same ones I saw chained to the walls of the carriage house. They were collared and shackled in iron, and each wore a particularly nasty chastity belt around their waists. Our new friend Bartholomew was supervising them under his skillful whip. Alex stared at the scene in quiet wonder, and again I could see the wheels turning in his head. "My animals," Wim said nonchalantly. They were impressive specimens. Two were just teenagers. Three were young men in their early twenties. All were lean and wiry and all were utterly hairless, even their heads had been clean-shaven. Iron bits were in their mouths, held in place by leather harnesses. The only sounds they made were the grunts and groans of straining muscles, and the occasional cry of protest when Bartholomew laid into them for not working up to his exacting standards. Alex' hand found mine and he tapped gently to get my attention. "I'm getting an erection, sir," he whispered. Wim noticed the boy's excited state instantly. "So, you like what you're seeing do you? Perhaps next summer, once you've put on a bit more muscle, your master will let you spend a month in my stables. You'd be treated just as they are. Worked all day, tortured all night, and we'd train that cock of yours to stay soft. You'd like that wouldn't you, boy?" Alex didn't dare to answer, but his throbbing cock made his feelings abundantly clear. Our host eyed me with deep sincerity. "I would pay handsomely for the boy's services, Steven. For as long or as short a term as you wish." Sell my boy to another? Even if just temporarily. The thought had never occurred to me until that moment, but the idea of my sweet young Alex toiling like an animal for another master had just planted itself irrevocably into my head. Alex and I shared a knowing glance, and we both knew it was going to be inevitable. "He'll get a small taste of it tonight," Wim went on as he gestured me to a wooden chair. Alex remained standing. Bartholomew left his boys to their labors and approached us with his warm and friendly smile. I noticed Alex stood up a little taller and straighter in his presence. "Back on your feet already, Alex?" the old man asked with a wink. "I must be getting soft in my old age. You on the other hand . . ." he reached out and playfully stroked the boy's cock. "Don't encourage him, Master Bartholomew," I said. "Alex has to learn to control himself." Bartholomew's eyes lit up and he put a hand firmly under the boy's chin. "Are you going to be punished for being hard in front of me?" "Yes, sir," Alex answered. "And for being hard in front of just about everyone else." Alex said it in all seriousness, but it was of course funny and we all three shared a much-needed laugh. That's the magic of my Alex. Even in our darkest moments, when our respective roles seem like they are about to consume us, he brings light and joy, without even trying. He is special. "Alex has agreed to be our guest of honor this evening," Wim explained, patting the kid on the shoulder. "Has he now?" Bartholomew asked, studying the boy with his dark gentle eyes. "You're in for quite a time, young man. Ever been hunting before?" "No, sir." "Well, it doesn't really matter. You'll mostly be running. You are a fast runner, aren't you?" "I think so, sir," Alex said, adding a quiet "I hope so," under his breath. "Are you plugged?" "Yes, sir." "And have you ever run with a plug inside you?" Alex nodded. "Master makes me run at home, sir. I like the feeling, sir." Bartholomew tried his best not to smile, but the boy's charm has that inevitable effect on just about everyone. "Well then let's see how well you do." Alex looked to me for guidance. "Master Bartholomew's in charge of you for the rest of the day. Obey him." I turned to the seasoned master. "Do whatever you want with him." Wim later told me he could actually see Alex stagger under that simple, calculated blow. The boy was stunned, and his mouth dropped open. I'd given him over to Robert's care once before, but only briefly. This was a man he hardly knew, and genuinely feared. It did not occur to me then, that even as I stood there, I was once again abandoning him. Bartholomew took Alexander's leash and pulled him close, staring down into the boy's frightened eyes. "Would you like to finish what we started?" Alex trembled. "No, sir." A tender pat on the head. "One day you'll ask for it. Now, show me how fast you can run. Up to the stage and back." The boy took off as fast as his strong young legs could carry him. There and back in no time. "Did I tell you to stop?" Bartholomew asked when Alex was standing in front of him again. "No, sir, you didn't." And he quickly starting running again. Back and forth. Back and forth. And all the while the slaves busily erected the stage, not once pausing from their labors to watch the naked boy running to and fro. Bartholomew kept the boy occupied that way for a good twenty minutes, often leaving him to whip one of the "animals" into shape. Wim and I sat back and enjoyed a leisurely conversation. I learned that Joshua was his adopted son, and that Robert had played some role in the affair, on which Wim would not elaborate. Nonetheless I was left with the impression that the boy had been given away by his parents, or perhaps sold. Wim was reluctant to discuss it further, but he did speak of the boy with a certain pride. "Josh still fights me sometimes," he said, "but he's mostly a good boy. He shouldn't have spoken to Alex that way though." "Alex seemed rather flattered." Wim laughed. "Of course he did. Your boy is a natural flirt, Steven. Nevertheless, Joshua is too young to address another man's slave in such a crude manner. He will be severely punished, rest assured." That of course, was something I would have dearly loved to see. I left the pavilion for a while after Wim excused himself. Alex saw me go and almost ran after me. He stopped himself with some effort, and my last vision was of him standing before Bartholomew with his hands behind his head listening as the man firmly gave him his latest instructions. Things had grown quiet and few people were about as I walked alone amongst the gardens. It was early evening now, and most of the guests had retired to their rooms in preparation for the night's festivities. I made my way up to the main house, where Thomas and Joshua greeted me. They were both still quite naked and clearly disappointed that Alex was not in my company. "Dr. Collins is giving a demonstration in the drawing room, sir," Joshua said with knowing eyes. Drawing room. A word not normally found in a fourteen- year-old's vocabulary, but then I'm sure there were many words young Joshua knew that others his age had never dreamed of using. Of course I remembered Robert mentioning that the good doctor would likely demonstrate his arts today, and I quickly had Thomas show me in. Immediately I felt as if I had entered some bizarre science fiction film. Surrounded by the dark paneling and exquisite antiques of a by-gone age, there was, in the very center of the room, a metal-framed examination chair padded in leather and lit by four harsh overhead spotlights on all sides. I recognized its diminutive occupant immediately. Young Sebastian was strapped down tightly, his arms at his side, his legs spread wide. The boy's head was immobilized by a cruel harness, and he was gagged, muzzled to be precise. The bright light against his pale skin made him appear to be glowing. His slender young body already had a sheen of sweat from the lamps, which glistened as his master began the lecture. Samuel Collins was in his white lab coat, every bit as formidable on him as black leather would be on another. There was not an empty seat to be had, so I accepted standing room at the rear, which still afforded me an excellent view. "Gentlemen," Collins began, "You are all no doubt aware that the area of skin between the anus and the base of the scrotum is highly erogenous, especially in the young." He then moved his right hand between Sebastian's legs and ran a single finger gently along the area in question. Sebastian jerked helplessly in his bonds and let out a high-pitched squeal. "As you will notice as I continue, the subject is becoming aroused." The eleven-year-old's penis was swelling in a futile attempt to erect itself, permanently held down against his balls by the chastity ring. Seb wiggled and moaned as the pleasure washed over him. "Were it not for the ring," the doctor continued, "the subject would be fully erect at this moment." The audience hummed and nodded their agreement. "Today you will witness a perineal piercing." He then held up a thick stainless steel ring, nearly two inches in diameter. "As you can see the ring is quite large. Once in place, it will provide an excellent point for restraining the subject. Its conductive properties will also allow for . . . stimulation . . . of certain regions of the body." Murmurs and wicked laughter filled the room. "Further its diameter will help ensure a proper standing posture. The subject will be unable to close his legs henceforth." Laying the ring aside, Sam rolled a tray of supplies near the chair and picked up a long and rather intimidating needle. "As you know, the subject is normally not anesthetized for piercings, but this is an extremely delicate and painful procedure, and I do not want him moving any more than is necessary. Thus a local anesthetic will be used." Without further explanation, the doctor inserted the needle into the boy's abdomen. Sebastian offered no reaction. I imagined he was quite accustomed to being poked and prodded after all these years. Several minutes were allowed to pass before Sam selected a small clamp and a much larger and thicker needle from his collection. The clamp was placed, eliciting a soft cry from the young patient. "As you can see, the subject does still have some sensation." The piercing needle came next. Sebastian gasped sharply but made no further sounds. His master applied thick soft gauze to stem what bleeding there was. Then he carefully inserted the ring and locked the clasp. A soldering iron came next, making the boy's latest modification permanent. We were all invited to step forward and take a closer look. Sebastian lay there motionless, wiggling just his fingers and his toes, his green eyes gazing off into an unseen distance. Samuel gently turned the new ring, and applied a disinfecting cream between the boy's legs. A question was asked about infections in such a sensitive area. "Regular antiseptic cleanings and no restrictive clothing for two weeks until it has fully healed. Then normal hygiene will suffice." Everyone had their turn to inspect the boy close up. I noticed no one touched his cock or his balls. Young Seb was well known here, naturally, and no hand but that of his master ever dared touch him there. "Your thoughts, Steven?" he inquired as the others began to talk amongst themselves. "I'm a bit speechless." "Modification is not for everyone. I understand completely." "Sebastian seems to be in heaven though," I observed, for it was certainly true. The look in his eyes was priceless. "I'd been promising him something special for quite a while, something no other boy has." "It's certainly unique." The boy's eyes smiled at me, and he promptly fell asleep. I returned to the pavilion to find my Alex hard at work with the other slaves putting the finishing touches on the stage. The boy was sweaty and quite dirty. He paused and looked at me expectantly when he saw me enter. "Keep working, Lexi," I said as I walked by. Bartholomew greeted me with a casual smile. "Alex is a good little worker," he said, holding up a riding crop. "I've only had to use this on him twice. And once I confess was just for fun." "As long as he's been behaving himself." "He most certainly has. And we're just about ready. Alex, over here please. Now." Alex immediately and literally dropped what he was doing and trotted over to us, the leash dangling from his collar, his young cock flopping between his legs. "Any erections while I was gone?" I asked him, running my hands over his stomach. "No, sir," he said without a smile. "I was a good boy." I kissed him on the forehead, and for just an instant he moved as if he were about to hug me, but he stopped himself and stood as straight and tall as his five-foot frame would allow. "There's really nothing more to be done for now," Bartholomew told us as the first guests began to filter in to the pavilion, filling the seats nearest the stage. "Please remove Alexander's leash." I did as instructed, getting a good whiff of my smelly boy as I unclasped the chain from his collar. I rolled it up and put it in my pocket for later. "A place has been reserved for you, Steven," Bartholomew said, pointing to a front row chair by the aisle. "The boy will stand." And stand Alex did, for nearly an hour while the gathering slowly came together. I had to remind him to stay in position with an occasional slap on the behind. His head was bowed, always a sign that he was tired, or nervous, or uncomfortable, and I'm sure this time it was a combination of all three. "Keep your eyes forward, boy," I said, slapping his ass again. He made a half-hearted effort to comply then turned his head just a bit to look at me. It was becoming too much for him. I could see it in his eyes. "It's alright," I whispered. "You can put your head down if you need to. I know it's hard to have everyone looking at you." "Thanks, Steve," he whispered back and quickly focused his eyes on the ground again. I rubbed the backs of his thighs, smooth and silken. He sighed contentedly. "That feels nice." "Keep your voice down, Alex." "Sorry." "It's ok," I said softly. "We can talk, but we shouldn't let the others hear us." "Gotcha. What should we talk about?" "You, silly. Are you doing ok?" There was a pause before he answered. "I guess." "Still scared?" "Uh-huh. This isn't like when it's just us at home . . . or even when we're with Master Robert. There's so many people here. It's hard." "I know. You're doing great though. Everyone loves you." He wiggled his hips a bit to make his cock and balls flap around. Then he snickered under his breath. "Lots of me to love!" "You little slut." "You big pervert." I put my arm around his waist and pulled him close for moment. He was back in position before anyone even noticed. "It's harder than I thought," he whispered. "Being naked in front of everybody. I don't like it when they touch me." "Your dick seems to." Alex didn't have an answer for that and we spent the next few minutes in silence, until Wim took the stage to kick off the night's festivities. As he welcomed us, I saw Samuel and Robert come in, with Sebastian and Michael trailing close behind. Mike looked very tired and rather worse for wear. It seemed as if Robert had been going rather rough with him these last few hours. Sebastian, wearing just a long black T-shirt, walked awkwardly behind his master. He was grimacing with each step, still growing accustomed to the new jewelry between his legs. After a few brief words, Wim turned his attention to me. "We do have some newcomers with us this evening, friends of Master Robert's. I'm sure most of you have already met them, but it is only appropriate they be formally introduced. Master Steven, would you and Alex join me please." I got up and patted Alex on the butt. He fell in step behind me. I could hear the light padding of his bare feet as we made our way to the stage. Once there I grasped his wrist and pulled him in front of me. The slender thirteen- year-old shuffled nervously toward our host. "Turn and face everyone, boy," Wim said in a low voice. Without hesitation, Alex obeyed. "Alex, stand," I ordered. He spread his trembling legs and clasped his hands behind his head. I could see his chest rising and falling in quick breaths. "A fine young slave, wouldn't you all agree?" Wim asked, stirring murmurs of approval from the others. "Turn round, boy, let them see all of you." Alex turned to the left in a slow circle, and gentle tap on the thigh from Wim's crop was his command to stop. "May I ask your boy some questions, master?" Wim inquired of me. "Certainly." "How old are you, Alex?" "I'm thirteen, sir," my sweet boy said in a small, private voice. This time it was my hand on his thigh, hard and swift. "Speak up, Alex. No one can hear you." "I'm thirteen, sir," he said over the crowd, his voice breaking just slightly. "And how long have you been a slave?" "Two months, sir," the boy replied sharply. "Are you a good boy?" "Most of the time, sir." Wim and I shared a smile. "Do you ejaculate?" "Only if I have my master's permission, sir." Wim moved close to the boy's ear and ran his hand down Alex' back. "Only then?" he asked with ice in his voice. Alex shivered. "Well . . . I mean . . . no, sir. Sometimes I'm bad." "And you make yourself cum?" "Yes, sir." "You're getting hard, boy." He was. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir." "And are you allowed to have erections like that?" "No, sir." "What happens to you when you do?" "I get punished, sir." Alex was shaking like a leaf, but his raging hard-on was already leaking. "And who punishes you?" "My master, sir." "How?" Wim continued the inquisition. "He spanks me, sir." "I see," was Wim's cold reply. A chair was then brought onto the stage by young Joshua. The boy wore a tight latex jock, which did nothing to hide his own erection. That and his studded collar were the only items upon his lean and hairless body. Wim gave his son a gentle kiss on the lips before ushering the boy away. He then bore his eyes into Alexander. "Do you deserve a spanking right now?" Alex was savvy enough to know the answer to that one. "Yes, sir." I sat down and called him over to me. A public spanking. Alex' face was already red, his eyes already moist when I put him over my knees. "Count out loud, Lexi, so everyone hears you." "Yes, master." My hand sufficed for the first fifty. Then Joshua returned with a paddle in his hands and a wicked grin on his face. I picked up the wooden enforcer, noticing the holes drilled in its surface and the name "Joshie" burned onto the handle. By its well-worn appearance, I could tell it was quite well acquainted with the fourteen-year-old's cute bottom. Alex stopped counting and started screaming after twenty or so blows. I continued until his rear end was a nice shade of purple and the first dark bruises began to appear. "Stand up." With some effort he did so. Worse for him, he would later tell me, was having to turn and face everyone with tears running down his cheeks. His erection was gone. "Thank you, master, for spanking me," he said quietly. "Anytime, Lexi." Bartholomew joined us on stage, and I knew the time had come. There was a certain electricity in the air. Everyone could feel it, especially Alex, who still did not know exactly what was in store for him. Come to think of it, neither did I. Wim raised his hands for silence. "Alex here has graciously . . . volunteered . . . to be our most special guest this evening. Would those of you who drew the winning numbers please come forward." Ten masters left their seats and their slaves and took the stage. Alex and I had met a few of them during the day, but they were all still mostly unfamiliar. I felt Alex shrink and saw him shudder, and he suddenly seemed like a little boy again, standing there naked surrounded by grown men, masters all. "If you would be so kind as to remove the boy's plug, master," Bartholomew said to me. I bent Alex over, holding him down with a hand upon his back, and pulled the metal plug out of him without ceremony. They boy shrieked and danced on his bare feet. Bartholomew then presented me with another plug, quite large to ensure that it would not fall out when the boy was running. It ended with a long tail of red fur. Fox. How fitting. "This is going to hurt going in, honey," I told him. "And even more coming out." "I'm ready, master." And he relaxed and opened himself for me as best he could. With some effort and more than a few tears on the boy's part, I managed to get it seated inside him. The fox tail hung between his smooth hairless legs. Alex looked positively adorable with it sticking out of his ass. Wim gestured to me silently and I took his meaning clearly. "On your knees, Alex," I said. The boy knelt before us all, his head bowed. Was it out of fear? Out of shame? Was he simply into his role as was so often the case? There was no time to consider his thoughts. Joshua appeared again, with Thomas beside him, and four large black hounds on chain leashes. I suppose I never mentioned that Alex is terrified of dogs. But he is. Always has been. Had I known they were a part of the plan, I honestly never would have agreed to let them do this to him. "Listen carefully, Alex," the voice of Bartholomew was soft and friendly, as it always seemed to be just before he engaged in unspeakable cruelty. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, boy." Alex raised his head. It was the first time Bartholomew had called him by anything other than his name. "You are going to be hunted, just like a dirty little animal. You will not be bound. You will have your arms and legs, your hands and feet. And of course your head. Use it. Your only job is to find your way back here, to your master." My boy's eyes widened in panic. "If you get to him, before one of us gets to you, you win. If one of us catches you first, you lose. Those are the only two things that will end the hunt. Do you understand?" "Yes, sir." Large nets were brought out, and thick ropes, and each master was also given an electric prod. "If another master catches you, you become his property for the rest of the evening. Of course he will not be permitted to inflict any permanent damage, but he may do as he pleases with you, and you will obey and serve him." Alex nodded that he understood. "Bring the dogs." Joshua and Thomas led the dogs forward, and brought them to a stop growling in front of Alex. The canines moved in close and sniffed the boy, nearly knocking him over. They were huge, fully-grown animals, and just one of them alone would be enough to overpower a thirteen-year-old boy. Everyone did take momentary pause at the genuine terror in the boy's eyes. Bartholomew knelt down and ran his fingers through Alex' hair. "Afraid of dogs?" Alex nodded, unable to stop shaking. "All the more reason to run fast. They are trained not to bite. But they are trained to chase, and they will get their paws into you if they catch you. There are woods behind the pavilion. You might be able to hide from us there, for a while. Thomas and Joshua will hold their leashes for sixty seconds. Once they're unleashed, we all follow. They've got your scent now. I'd start running if I were you." Bartholomew handed me his prod. I knew what was expected. The look Alex gave me chilled my heart. I pressed the prod into his thigh and heard the crackle of electricity. The boy yelped. "Run, Alex." He scrambled to his feet, jumped off the stage and ran out of the pavilion, turning right and then making a sharp left, redirecting himself toward the woods. And like that he was gone. Sixty seconds later, so were the hounds. To this day Alex never talks about the hunt. I stood outside the pavilion waiting for him, part of me hoping he would return safely to my arms, another part highly aroused at the prospects of what would happen if he didn't. I could see them in the woods, see the lights from their flashlights, and hear their taunting calls. Once or twice I heard one of the hounds growl or bark. And I did catch a glimpse of Alex once, right at the edge of the tree- line where the floodlights from the gardens washed the woods in a soft artificial daylight. He was crouching there against a tree, shaking and exhausted and less than twenty- five yards away. Our eyes met for just an instant, and I called to him. I couldn't help myself. Alex drew himself awkwardly to his feet. I smiled at him. He'd made it. Just one more short sprint across the grass and it would be over. The boy stared at me in silence for what seemed an eternity. And then he did something I never could have imagined he'd do. Something he has never explained to me, ever. He turned his back on me, and ran back into the woods. Forty-five minutes later, it was indeed over. A master I had not yet met returned, dragging Alex roughly behind him. My boy's hands were tied tightly and painfully behind his back, and a long rope had been looped around his neck to serve as a leash. The boy's body was covered in cuts and scratches from his time spent naked in the woods, and he walked gingerly on bare feet that were sore and bruised from tripping over rocks and roots in the dark. He stared at me for a moment, then just as quickly turned his hazel eyes away. "Congratulations, Master Vincent," Wim said as the man came to stop before us, pulling Alex close to him. Joshua and Thomas we sent running to retrieve the dogs and let the other master's know the hunt was over. Alex had lost. And some small part of me, one I did not want to acknowledge, knew he'd done it on purpose.