Date: Fri, 17 Jan 2003 10:27:20 -0500
From: istari <istari@blazenet.net>
Subject: Mastering Alex 31-32

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 31: Broken Ends

     We all agreed we'd take Alex home for the remaining three
days of his ordeal. And yes I had started using that word to
describe what he was going through. Guilt gnawed at me as I sat
beside Robert during the long drive back. Alex was in the cage
again, Michael riding with him to ensure he remained awake, as if
Robert's talent for finding potholes was not enough to accomplish
the feat.
     I was troubled, and there was that uneasy feeling again, as
if all of this had slipped beyond my control. It seemed every
time I had offered Alex a way out, he had gone out of his way to
do something to cause himself even more pain and distress. Every
chance I gave him was thrown back in my face. I began to realize
that he was torturing me, every bit as much as he himself was
being tortured. He wanted me to see him suffering at someone
else's hands.
     He hated me right now, and to be honest, part of me hated
him right back. I turned my head and parted the curtain. Michael
was kneeling beside the cage, his hand through the bars. He
smacked Alex across the face several times, hard enough that I
could hear it over the noise from the road. When he stopped, Alex
crawled forward as far as his confinement would allow and pressed
his head against the iron bars of his prison. Michael stroked the
boy's hair. Alex raised his eyes for just a moment and darted
them away quickly when he saw that I was looking.
     "He's not doing this just to hurt you, Steven," Robert said
beside me, and his tone was suddenly serious and filled with
concern. "But I believe he is doing it for the wrong reasons. It
isn't about pain anymore, or even being a slave, not for him. He
should have used his safeword by now. It bothers me that he
hasn't."
     "He says he can't."
     Robert sighed and stared off into the distance as the quiet
back road wound before us. "That bothers me even more."
     "What am I supposed to do?" I asked.
     "Exactly what you've been doing. Don't give up on him now,
and don't give in. He needs your strength. But be ready. He's
breaking. And when he does, it will not be pleasant. You know
what this is about, don't you?"
     I sat back against the seat and rolled up my sleeve, staring
down at my right arm. The tracks were gone now, they had been for
years, but in my mind I could still see them, and with them all
the damage I had done to that sweet and gentle boy, simply by
doing nothing at all.
     "You're not that person anymore, Steven," Robert spoke
softly. "You are a fine master, a caring brother, and, if I may,
you've been a terrific father to him."
     That word made me cringe. I could, perhaps, see Alex as a
son, but I could never, ever, see myself as a father. I was not
worthy of such a title.
      "I know you don't see yourself that way. But Alex is a very
gifted and very complicated boy, and he's becoming an outstanding
young man. Give yourself some credit. I could never handle the
demands of a boy like Alex."
     I was beginning to doubt if anyone could.

     We stopped about an hour from home to pick up some
groceries, since the house was going to be rather crowded over
the next few days. Michael coaxed Alex out his cage and I tossed
the boy his shorts and T-shirt. He dressed hurriedly then sat on
the floor and fumbled with his shoes, unable with his trembling
hands to get the laces tied. I knelt down to help him. He drew
his knees up and scooted himself against the wall. For a moment
his expression told me he didn't know who I was. His eyes were
glassy, ringed in dark circles. He was a pitiable sight. He
finally seemed to recognize me and stuck his feet out to let me
tie his laces. When I was finished I patted him on the leg and he
slid up along the wall until he was half standing. I took off his
ankle cuffs, and removed the padlocks from those on his wrists
and collar.
     Alex' hands found my shoulders when I was finished. I gazed
up at him and straightened his shirt before realizing what he'd
done.
     "You've got it on backwards, Lexi," I said with a smile. I
lifted it slowly.
     "Huh? Oh. Sorry."
     "Raise your arms."
     He did, and I turned his shirt around for him.
     "Tag goes in back, sweetheart."
     "I know."
     Together Michael and I helped him out of the van. Robert
came in with us. Sam and Seb waited in their Rover. Sebastian
actually sat up front with his master, which I found rather
surprising, given Sam's rather extraordinary creativity where the
keeping and training of his young nephew was concerned. The boy
was asleep, the side of his face pressed against the glass. I saw
Sam reach over and gently shift the boy around, placing a small
pillow with cartoon characters on it beneath the little fellow's
head. Caught showing his softer, gentler side, Sam shrugged his
shoulders and smiled at us as we walked away.
     Alex was a zombie in the store, obediently pushing the cart
along, leaning against it for support whenever we stopped in one
of the aisles. He started talking to himself at one point,
incoherently, and we had to hurriedly shuffle him along and keep
him quiet. We knew he'd never make it through the line, so I took
him back out to the van while Mike and Robert finished up.
     "Help Michael with the bags, Alex," I said when they
returned.
     He blinked at me and stumbled out the back door. Robert
caught him before he could trip and hit his head on the blacktop.
Mindlessly he loaded the bags into the van, placing some
carefully, throwing others in without concern. Robert had to
wrestle the bag with the eggs from him, and decided he'd better
keep that one up front.
     Michael stripped him once we were back on the road, and I
tossed an apple to the naked boy. He missed it, and it rolled
around the floor of the van. Alex watched it tumble this way and
that and soon broke out in hysterical laughter, pointing at it
with a slender shaking arm. Then he fell to his knees and started
to cry.
     I quickly grabbed the wayward Red Delicious and put it into
his hands. He cradled it like some private treasure and crawled
into his cage, munching on it quietly. I closed the door, there
was no reason to lock it, then sat down beside the cage and
watched my boy eat. I was not about to leave him in this state,
not even with Michael there to watch over him.
     That little bit of solid food, the first he'd eaten since
before the hunt, seemed to perk Alex up noticeably. He even
smiled at me when I reached in with a rag and wiped the sticky
juice from the apple off his hands. The boy's grip was light and
weak when he held on to me. I squeezed his hands tightly in
return. He closed his eyes and hung his head between his
shoulders.
     "You can put your head down, honey," I told him. Alex looked
up at me with sad eyes, then wiggled around in the cage until he
managed to rest his head on its wooden floor. There was no room
inside for him to lie down. He was forced to stay on his hands
and knees. He leaned to one side. He didn't sleep. He started
humming to himself, softly, in a high sorrowful pitch, some song
I'd never heard.
     Michael seemed to recognize the melody and he sat down and
hummed it with him. We both held the boy's hands. Less than an
hour later we were home, Alex still humming the same tune over
and over again.

     "His mind's starting to wander," Sam told us as we met
briefly outside the van. Michael was beside himself with worry,
and I wasn't far behind. Alex' voice could still be heard, soft
and sweet, echoing within. "That's to be expected. We need to
give him things to do, to keep him focused. Why don't we have
Sebastian walk him around while we get everything unpacked?"
     Young Seb eagerly nodded his head, proud to be given an
assignment on his own. We all agreed it was a good idea, to get
both of the youngsters out of the way for a while. I returned to
the van and opened the door to the cage. Alex didn't move.
     "Alex," I said strongly. His singing stopped. "Come out of
the cage."
     He backed out slowly. I put my hands around his hips and
helped him down.
     "Stand."
     Alex blinked his eyes in confusion, knowing that word meant
he was supposed to do something. He did remember, and slowly
clasped his hands behind his head. I secured his ankle cuffs
again, and checked his belt and the plug in his ass to make sure
he wasn't working loose. With Michael's help we put the padlocks
on once more, and I clasped the leash to his collar.
     Sebastian was nearly jumping out of his sexy little shorts
and he ran up to take the leash from my hands. I smiled at the
four-foot high boy and tousled his short spiky red hair. "Don't
let him get away from you, Seb," I warned him.
     "No, sir."
     He pulled on the leash, tugging it downward.
     "Down, Alex," he said in his high melodious voice. "Down."
     Alex obediently returned to his hands and knees. Seb patted
him on the head. "Crawl, Alex. Come on. Crawl."
     And he scampered off with Alex shuffling along on all fours
behind him.
     The boys were out of sight and out of mind for a while as we
unpacked everything and stored the groceries. Michael was sent
out to heat up the grill. The evening air already had a subtle
chill to it, those last wonderful summer nights, when the smells
and sounds of early autumn are just returning. Robert, Sam and I
sat on the front porch watching Mike, naked and harnessed again,
as he went about his work.
     "So, did the two of you . . .?" Robert asked me.
     "No. We didn't," I said, keeping his orgasm as our own
private secret. "We just talked."
     "I see."
     Robert stood up, his thoughtful eyes resting on his handsome
and wonderful young slave. He took a long deep breath. "The air
is changing. Can you feel it?"
     We all could, but I knew the deeper meaning of his words. I
stood beside him and put my arm around his shoulder. He leaned in
to me.
     "I'm going to miss him," was all he said.
     "There's still time. They're both young."
     He smiled and laughed softly. I'd never before seen this
side of him, a man I'd known my entire life. "I told you Alex
would change every life he touches."
     "And he has," I said.
     Robert stood up straight and gathered his emotions once
more. "For the better."
     "Hadn't we best find those two boys," Samuel interjected,
"before they get themselves into trouble."
     We all agreed that was a wise course of action. And it
didn't take us long. The sound of frustrated high-pitched grunts
from behind the old barn led us right to them. Alex was on his
knees. Sebastian stood in front of him with his shorts around his
ankles, his shirt thrown off several feet away. He had hold of
Alexander's head and was madly fucking the thirteen-year-old's
face, his slender hips rocking forward and back with reckless
abandon.
     "Oh, yeah, Alex. Yeah!" the eleven-year-old shouted. "Suck
me. Suck me! Suck my big hard cock!"
     Robert and I broke down in laughter, particularly at Seb's
rather inflated estimation of his little four-inch boner.
Samuel's reaction was rather more subdued. There was a knowing
smile on his face. We moved in to pull the boys apart, but he
held us back and gestured for us to be quiet.
     "No," he said. "Let him try to finish."
     Sebastian's thrusts became more desperate. His eyes were
tightly closed. "Oh, shit. Oh, shit!" His little voice was high
and strained. "Ohhh. Ahhh. Ahhh. Aaaahhh!" His knees gave out and
he collapsed onto the ground, shaking and trembling. I could see
a tiny glob of sperm dribbling from Alex' lower lip. Samuel
walked forward slowly and gently cradled Sebastian in his arms.
The boy was crying.
     "I'm sorry, master," he sobbed.
     Sam clutched him tightly and rubbed the back of the boy's
neck. He took the boy's cock in his hand and stroked it tenderly.
Sensitive from his first ejaculation, Sebastian whined and
moaned. Sam hugged the boy again, then he wiped Sebastian's
tears. "How did it feel, Seb?" he asked gently.
     The boy sniffled but managed a smile. "Good."
     "We'll talk about your punishment when we get back home.
Right now I think you have something to say to Alex."
     Alex was still on his knees, Sebastian's immature sperm
dripping from his mouth. Seb crawled over to him and kissed him
on the lips, licking his own juices.
     "Thanks, Alex," he said softly.
     Sam helped him to his feet and pulled his shorts back up,
giving his hindquarters a good solid smack. "Get your shirt on."
     The little boy, apparently not so little anymore, worked
himself back into his tight black T and dutifully picked up Alex'
leash again. He handed it to me with a sheepish grin.
     "No, Seb. You can keep him for a while."
     He beamed with pride and reached down to pat Alex on the
head as he'd seen me do so many times. "Come on, Alex." A little
tug and they were off across the grass, Alex crawling obediently
at Sebastian's side, both headed for the unmistakable smell of
the grill round front.
     Michael handled the cooking for the most part, while the
three of us sat down for a cool drink. Young Sebastian was still
in charge of Alex, and getting rather inventive. We all watched
with warm smiles as he mounted the thirteen-year-old's back,
jammed his knees into Alex' side and rode him around the yard for
a while. It wasn't long before Alex was struggling under the
weight, his tired muscles flexing and straining with every
movement. Sebastian reined him in with the leash and smacked his
hand against Alex' behind to urge him forward.
     "Creative, isn't he?" Robert observed with a laugh.
     He was certainly that. Wickedly so. Like master, like slave.
     "I can't believe you let him have an orgasm, Sam," my old
friend continued.
     Samuel Collins gave us a sly glance. "One cannot desire what
one has never had, my dear Robert. Now that he knows the
pleasure, denying it will be exquisite torture."
     Robert and I both shook our heads. "You really are evil," we
told him in unison. "You know that."
     He rose and bowed theatrically.
     "Dinner's about ready, sirs," Michael called from the grill.
     Salmon. Lightly seasoned and perfectly done. Michael does
have a knack for these things. He took Alex and Sebastian with
him into the house to bring out everything else. I heard some
clattering of dishes through the open door, but soon they
reappeared, the junior slaves following on Michael's heels,
carrying bowls and plates. An appealing scene.
     When everything was set, Michael and Seb joined us at the
table. Alex was our serving boy. Walking round to each of us,
presenting one bowl and tray after another until our plates were
full. Michael himself served the main course. I walked Alex back
to the porch and wrapped his leash around the railing, tethering
him securely. I left him standing there and returned to the late
summer feast. Alex looked on from across the yard, alone, licking
his lips at the wonderful food he'd been so close to, but was not
allowed to touch.
     As we finished, we all scraped our plates onto one and I
took it over to him and laid it at his feet. Alex squatted down
and looked up at me for permission.
     "Eat."
     It was mostly slop, half-cold, the remains of our meal and
nothing more. I gave him a piece of bread to sop up the juices on
the plate. He ate with his hands, greedily. When he was finished,
I held the plate to his face.
     "Lick it clean."
     He did, until it was almost pure white again. Robert brought
me a napkin. I knelt down and cleaned Alex' hands.
     "On your feet, Alex."
     "Yes, sir."
     The first words he'd spoken in hours.
     "Do you need to piss?" I asked.
     He nodded. All of us were surrounding him now.
     "Then do it right here."
     His head fell to his chest. He closed his eyes and stood
there motionless, his arms limp at his sides. Soon a pale yellow
stream was pouring from the hole in the metal pod that encased
his genitals. It splattered over his bare feet. Alex looked up
when he was done.
     "Good boy."
     I unwound his leash from the rail and we walked him over to
the side of the barn, where the hose lay coiled and waiting. Alex
hadn't had a bath since the hunt. He was filthy and smelly. With
four of us working on him, the leather came off quickly and was
given to the young redhead for safekeeping. Grabbing up some
loose discarded rope, weatherworn and frayed, we tied Alex' hands
behind his back and stood him up against the wall. I knelt down
and tied his ankles together, making several passes with the
coarse thick hemp. His knees were next. His tired eyes pleaded
with me.
     I roughly ran my fingers through his hair, dirty and
tangled. Robert turned the water on, and we took our time hosing
the boy down. Bound as he was, there was no way he could shield
himself from the frigid blasts of cold water. Exhausted as he
was, he didn't bother to try.
     "Turn around, Alex," I said when Sam momentarily stopped the
flow.
     Alex struggled on his bound feet, but with an endearing hop
managed to do as he was told. His bath resumed. Finally, the boy
fell over, lying helpless on his side, crying softly to himself.
     "That's enough," I said. Sam wound up the hose. I stood over
my boy for a moment, then gestured Robert over. The ropes were
soaked and swollen and it took us some time to get them off. His
hands we left tied. Alex just lay there, silent, shivering.
     "On your feet, boy," Robert called out sternly, swatting the
boy's behind. Alex managed to stagger to his knees, then slowly
to his feet. Biting his lower lip, he stared at us blankly. That
playful fire that lit his sweet soft eyes was gone. Alex was deep
inside somewhere. Alone. Battered by those he trusted. Worn
beyond his endurance by those he loved. Hiding.

     We marched him back to the house and into the living room.
There we cut the ropes that bound his hands. The marks they'd
left were deep and red. Sebastian dutifully, almost reverently,
laid all of Alex' leather gear at the older boy's feet. I could
see by the gleam in the little redhead's eyes that he desperately
wanted to be the one to do it.
     "No. Stay there, Sebastian," I said, approaching the two
boys. I put my hand under Alex' chin and raised his eyes to mine.
     "You made Sebastian cum, didn't you?"
     Alex lips quivered before he spoke. "Yes, master."
     "Why did you do that?"
     He looked at Seb, who turned his own eyes away in guilt.
Alex pointed at the skinny little redhead. "He . . . he made me
do it."
     "You're bigger than he is, Alex. He can't make you do
anything."
     "But . . . I had to . . . I had to do what he told me . . .
you said, I mean Michael said, somebody said . . ." Tears were
running from his eyes.
     "You need to be punished, don't you?"
     Alex lowered his head again. His voice was small and fragile
when he spoke, repeating my words from a moment ago "I need to be
punished, sir." And then his own words from that day I found him
in the barn, whispered to himself in a young and frightened
voice. Words I suddenly knew he'd been taught and made to say
many times before. "Bad boys have to be punished."
     "Yes they do," I said softly. Together Robert and I locked
his wrist and ankle cuffs in place. Then I took his collar and
placed it in Michael's hands, dropping the tiny brass lock into
his open palm. "Michael, please collar him."
     Robert pushed Alex to his knees. Michael stepped forward
with trembling hands. He held the collar close for a moment,
running his fingers over the soft leather, then he held it out
and started to place it around Alexander's slender neck. The
boy's eyes widened in sudden unspeakable horror.
     "No!" he shouted, loud and shrill, a mournful sorrowful cry
of pain and anguish. "No!" He pushed Michael away and scrambled
to his feet, sobbing and crying. I tried to put my arms around
him, but his fists flew at me in rage. "You promised! You
promised you'd never . . . I'm supposed to be yours, yours
forever. Remember! Remember!"
     He continued to batter me with angry blows, even as I held
him.
     "Alex."
     "Liar! That's all you are! It's all your fault. Everything.
Why don't you just go get high again and leave me alone." His
last words were spoken in a low, cold voice, and his hazel eyes
were daggers. "I hate you."
     I let him go. I'd been expecting to hear those words for
years, but when they finally came, I wasn't prepared for the
power held within them. I didn't know what to do. Or what to say.
Or how I could ever undo what I'd done to him all those years
ago, when I gave him away.
     Alex fell to his knees.
     "Butterfly."
     And he curled himself into a little ball, shaking and
sobbing and crying. We, all of us, just stood there, silenced and
stricken by pain too deep, by a boy's wounds too raw to touch.

     We didn't leave him. We couldn't leave him. We all knelt
down on the soft rug, surrounding him. Sam held Sebastian close.
Michael wept openly. Through my own tears I gazed down at my
brother, this boy who was so special to me. Suddenly his
nakedness seemed wrong. I grabbed a blanket from the sofa and
laid it gently over his trembling frame. Alex clung to it
desperately.
     And for a while that was all we did. Sit by him, touch him
gently every time he trembled or stifled a sob. Just letting him
know he was not alone. He wouldn't talk, or look at any of us. If
we tried to take his hand, he'd quickly move it away.
     I spoke softly into his ear. "Please tell me I haven't lost
you."
     Alex didn't answer. And so I sat there with him, with all
those who loved him, and we waited. Finally he moved his hand
toward me, slowly, unsure. I reached out and squeezed it gently.
He squeezed back, and he would not let go.
     "I'm sorry." The pain still echoed in his voice. "I
shouldn't have said those things."
     "You had to." I touched my fingers to his cheek. "Now we can
finally talk about it."
     He looked up at me with weeping eyes. "I don't hate you."
     "I know, Alex. I know." I took the keys from my pocket.
"Come on guys, help me get these things off him."
     Alex sniffled. "You don't have to."
     "Yes I do."
     When everything was gone and set aside, I got him up.
Michael wrapped a blanket around him and we sat him down on the
sofa. Alex leaned against me and I cradled his head on my
shoulder.
     "Don't ever make me go away," he cried.
     "Never again. I wish I could take all that back, Alex. But
wishing won't change what happened."
     He leaned forward, hugging his arms closely to his chest.
"Sometimes it feels so bad."
     "Tell us," I said.
     Alex sat up for a moment, then shook his head and leaned
over again, staring down at the floor. "It's hard. I can't."
     I put my arm around his shoulder. Michael knelt in front of
him, gently patting his legs. "I know it's difficult, Alex. I
know," he said it with the strength and assuredness of one who
had been there not so long ago. "But you have to tell us."
     "You've been carrying this around so long, Lexi," I said.
"It's time to let it go."
     He shook his head, but I could feel him shaking beside me.
     "You've already said the hardest things. The things you've
always wanted to say."
     Alex looked at me with shame in his eyes, something I could
not bear to see. "I was afraid," he whispered.
     "I know."
     "Tell us everything, Alex," Michael said, holding the boy's
head between his hands. Alex struggled and tried to break free.
"Don't look away. Tell us. Or we'll whip it out of you." Words
spoken so gently I scarcely grasped their meaning.
     Alex began to speak, slowly, often stopping himself to take
a tearful breath, or to correct some memory he'd gotten wrong.
Listening to him was all we could do, and it was painful.
Devastating. Of course I had read the medical reports when Robert
got him back for me, and Alex had hinted at things, awful things,
over the years since. But I had no idea. I had no idea what he
had endured, the hopeless depth of his suffering, the calculated
abuse of his keepers.
     There was the closet, dark and empty, where he spent days
sometimes weeks, chained, naked and alone, hungry, dragged out
once a day to use the toilet, punished if he had an accident
during the night. I imagined him, just a little boy, lying there
in his own waste, crying himself to sleep.
     There were the beatings. A daily occurrence. Nothing so
refined as a leather whip. Coat hangers on his thighs, electric
cords for his back, belts and wooden rulers for everyplace else.
He explained that often they would throw a thin blanket over him
first, so they could beat him without leaving any marks that
might show in school. He was slapped, punched, and kicked in such
a casual way that it almost became routine.
     "I'd get a boner every time they beat me," he said, looking
up from his sad, monotone narrative for just a moment. "I didn't
understand why. It just made them angrier. He'd get a ruler and
hit it until it got soft again. They didn't care how loud I
screamed . . . they didn't care."
     There was rape. By the man and the woman both. He wouldn't
talk about it.
     "I . . . I started having orgasms . . . when they did it."
His voice was small, filled with shame. "I knew it was wrong. It
shouldn't make me feel good, but it did."
     'Little slut enjoys it'
     "No! I don't!"
     'Don't lie to me boy or you'll get it'
     "Stop! You're hurting me."
     'That's what you want, isn't it, you worthless piece of
shit'
     On and on the conversation went, from some deep place in the
sweet haunted boy's memory. Word for word, Alex playing all the
roles, half laughing half crying as he relived his abuse. Finally
he broke down in a fit of tears.
     I held him as he cried, and he wrapped his arms around me.
     "You are not worthless, Alex," I said. That word had
repeated itself far too often.
     "Then why did you let them take me away? Why didn't you . .
. why didn't you . . . I must have been worthless. Why else . . .
I mean, what was I supposed to think?"
     "I'm so sorry, Alex."
     "That's what always hurt the most," he said, and the torrent
was then unleashed. He wasn't shouting or yelling, there wasn't
even anger in his voice, just pain and truth. "And then you
started giving me away again. First to Robert, then Bartholomew,
and then Vincent . . . ", he gazed up for a moment, his hazel
eyes swimming, "I wasn't going to let it hurt me anymore. I was
going to make it hurt you instead. So I just kept going."
     "Is that why you wouldn't use your safeword, honey?"
     He nodded. "I had to show you I didn't care what you did. I
know you wanted me to say it, lots of times, but I had to show
you."
     I stroked Alex' hair. Robert handed him a tissue, and the
boy quickly wiped his eyes.
     "And then you gave Mike my collar. I thought it was for
real. So I said it. I said all those things. And now I've ruined
everything."
     "No you haven't, Alex. I shouldn't have done that. I know
what the collar means to you. I promise no one else but me will
ever put it on you again, until you're ready."
     Michael reached into the blanket and took Alexander's hands.
A warm, loving smile crossed his handsome face as he spoke.
"Until we're both ready, Alex."
     My wonderful boy was in tears again, but this time they were
accompanied by a delicate, beautiful smile.
     "You are loved, Alex," I said. "And not just by me. Look
around, sweetheart."
     He did, and he saw and felt the warmth surrounding him. We
all stayed beside him for the longest time. Alex never once left
my arms. There were more tears, more memories, but there was also
gentle laughter. The sun was actually rising on a new day, when
Alex finally closed his eyes.
     I invited our dear friends to stay and get some rest, and I
gently woke Alex to get him upstairs. The bathroom was our first
destination. I got the shower nice and warm for him and watched
the boy carefully as he stood under the stream, the water running
down his face and over his smooth skin. He didn't move.
     "Soap up," I told him.
     "Huh? Oh. Right." He turned his lean frame away from me and
washed himself, sighing contentedly as the warm water soothed his
tired and aching young muscles. The soap squirted out of his wet
hands and landed between his feet. He bent over to retrieve it,
then slowly went down to his knees. "I can't get up," he said to
me, his voice tired and distant, his body no doubt already
asleep.
     I reached in and helped him to his feet.
     "Rinse," I said.
     He turned himself awkwardly in a full circle. There were
still trails of soap running down his legs when he stepped out.
     I had a soft towel waiting for him, and he buried himself in
it as I lovingly dried him. He started crying again and looked at
me with sad wistful eyes.
     "What do we do now?" he asked.
     "Slow down and take our time," I answered.
     He nodded and wiped his eyes. "I'm too old to be crying like
this."
     "I won't tell anyone if you don't."
     Alex silently agreed that was a good idea, and I led him to
his bedroom. The simple paper with the words 'slave's room'
written in his own hand was still taped beside the doorframe. We
did not take it down. The chains were still there at the four
corners of his bed. We did not remove them. But we could ignore
them if we chose, and that's what we did.
     I laid him down and pulled the blankets over him. He stared
up at the ceiling, watching the blades of the fan spin round and
round.
     "Sleep, Alex," I said.
     He rolled over onto his side. His eyelids fluttered and
closed. Alex' longest day had ended.

     The house was still asleep when I woke up. It would be
several days yet before everyone's clocks returned to normal,
especially Alex. I checked on him, cursing the creaking wooden
boards as I crept quietly across his bedroom floor. It was
impossible not to announce yourself in this old place. Alex
didn't stir, and I found him just as I'd left him, sleeping
soundly. He was on his stomach, his arms splayed out, his head
nearly off the pillow. One bare leg hung out from the blankets, a
naked foot dangling off the side of the bed. Alex was a light
sleeper, and I didn't dare return it under the covers.
     I went down the hall, running into a sleepy-eyed Sebastian
who'd gotten up to relieve himself.
     "Morning, sir," he mumbled with a yawn as he toddled back to
bed.
     "It's evening, Seb," I replied with a grin.
     "Oh. Whatever." And that was the last I saw of him for
several more hours.
     The door to Robert and Michael's room was closed, so I was
fairly sure I knew what was going on in there. I was surprised to
find Robert alone when I got downstairs. He was on the back
porch, leaning against the railing and staring off at the rounded
tree-covered mountains in the distance.
     "It's a nice setting, Steven," he said without turning
around.
     "Can I get you something?" I asked. "I think I've still got
an old bottle of wine around here."
     "That would be lovely."
     I rummaged around in the pantry until I found it. Growing
up, there was a true wine closet where the flour and sugar now
lived. It had always been well stocked with the finest vintage. I
smiled, remembering the sneaking of my first drink at age eleven.
I was sick for two days. I'd gotten rid of that closet as soon as
I moved back in. But one lonely bottle did remain. I found a
wineglass for Robert and presented it to him with my compliments.
     He sipped it slowly and we sat down together on the porch as
the sun began to set.
     "How is he?"
     "Still sleeping."
     "He will be for a while yet."
     "Tell me the truth, Robert. Was I wrong to start this?"
     He sighed and pressed the glass to his bearded lips. "If you
hadn't, he would have found more dangerous ways to hurt himself.
He carried a burden no child ever should, and it was poisoning
him, slowly. Now you tell me, would he ever have been able to say
those things, if you hadn't helped him, if you hadn't pushed
him?"
     "No."
     "Alex is who he is, Steven. His past complicates that a
great deal, but it does not change it. He still needs a master."
     "And he still has one."
     "I'm pleased to hear it. And he's lucky to have someone who
loves him, someone to guide him."
     "He asked me what we're supposed to do now."
     Robert set his glass on the small table between us. "And
your answer?"
     "I told him we'll take our time."
     "Good. He needs a chance to think. And he still has so much
to learn. You both do. Let him set the pace for a while. Rein him
in if you think he's going too fast. Push him when you feel you
need to, but never too hard. He's vulnerable right now, Steven.
Don't take unfair advantage. But," he said, raising an eyebrow at
me, "don't you ever lower your expectations of him, as a slave or
as a young man."
     "Thanks," I replied. "I don't know where we'd be today
without you."
     "I just offered you the opportunity," he said, reaching over
and taking my hand. "You were the one who got yourself cleaned up
. . . and stayed that way. The credit is yours. As far as Alex is
concerned, I'm honored you've both put your faith in me. I trust
I've not abused it."
     "Not for a minute. Alex adores you. You scare him to death
sometimes, but he adores you."
     "I have that effect on people."
     I laughed, and got up for a moment to turn on the porch
lights. "What are we going to do about the two of them?" I asked
as I sat back down. He knew what I meant.
     Michael and Alex.
     We needed to talk about that.
     "Michael and Alex. That has a nice sound to it, doesn't it?"
     "It does. Alex is in love with him."
     "Michael has said the same to me."
     "It's too soon for them," I said quietly.
     "I agree. It's not time. Michael has college to think about,
and Alex is turning into a full-fledged teenager. They need to
experience those things first. They are still quite young."
     "But we shouldn't keep them apart."
     "Of course not. It's up to us to get them off to a good
start. Let them learn about each other. Explore themselves
together. We need to make sure we make time for their
relationship. We can't keep our boys to ourselves anymore,
Steven. There are things Michael will need to learn, things you
and I can teach him, but Alex will need to be there when we do.
It will be our duty to love them, and keep them safe."
     I liked the idea very much. Robert continued with a sardonic
smile. "Michael is going to have his hands full. You know that
better than anyone. Mastering Alex is a difficult job."


Chapter 32: Time

     It was late in afternoon of the next day before Alex
returned to the world of the waking. I'd heard him get up a few
times to use the bathroom, but he always went straight back to
bed. We left him alone, taking our turns checking on him, always
careful not to disturb his much-needed rest. We were all in the
kitchen, enjoying the summer afternoon, when he finally came
down.
     He was dressed. I'd left his closet unlocked for him. Denim
shorts and a white tank top. He still hard dark circles around
his eyes, but they were lively again.
     "Hi," he said, shy and quietly, a little embarrassed at
having slept so long.
     All of us had a hug for him. Alex was smiling as he returned
each embrace. The boy's touch was gentle. It would be a few days
yet before he regained all his strength. He was fragile and
vulnerable, but no longer ashamed to let it show. For me and
Michael he also had an affectionate kiss.
     We couldn't keep enough food on the table as Alex ravenously
ate everything he was offered. The boys then played a bit, joking
and jostling each other, but it was clear Alex didn't have the
energy to keep up. The three of them sat down on the floor of the
living room and talked quietly amongst themselves. Often we'd
hear Sebastian's high clear laughter or Michael playfully teasing
them about something. Alex was mostly quiet but I recognized his
sweet soft tenor chiming in once in awhile.
     Robert, Samuel and I actually served them dinner that night,
a strange reversal of our roles.
     "Don't get used to this, boys," Robert said with a laugh.
     Alex playfully gestured him away with a flick of his wrist,
and the youthful trio was soon deep in conversation again. It was
a joy watching them, their wonderful personalities flourishing
before our eyes. Michael a gentle but comfortable leader, caring
and confident, a young man with the makings of a fine master
within him. Sebastian. Clever, wicked, charming, and yet somehow
innocent Sebastian. Young and exuberant. My sweet submissive
Alex, quiet, thoughtful, sensitive, listening and watching,
expressing his wit, his perception, his intelligence in gentle
subtle ways. He could control the conversation with only a few
words of his own. How I loved him.
     Our friends left us late that evening, with firm hugs, best
wishes for school, and plans to get together again. Alex and I
stood on the front porch and watched as they departed, the lights
slowly disappearing down the long driveway. We went back inside,
and suddenly I was nervous. I'd been wondering how I would handle
this moment when the two of us were truly alone together once
more. How could I begin to say all things I wanted to tell him?
How could we begin again?
     Alex smiled up at me and gave me his answer. The boy
stripped out of his clothes and stood there before me. That
simple act. His humble nakedness. His love for me unbroken. I
took him into my arms, and in that moment it was enough just to
hold him.

     Alex was a very busy young man over the next few months. The
start of school, old friends, new friends, a successful tryout
for the swimming team, weekly sessions with a therapist of Samuel
Collins' acquaintance. He started his own science fiction reading
club, which meant that every Thursday afternoon I'd have a
handsome handful of eighth-grade boys to feed. Some were bookish,
some were jocks, some were your everyday garden-variety boy so
often overlooked and ignored. Alex seemed to fit in everywhere,
and befriend them all with ease.
     There were our visits with Robert and Michael, and frequent
telephone calls. It was always Alex' job to answer the phone, but
he did so with special urgency whenever he expected it to be
Michael on the other end. The two of them went off to the city
for a weekend, everything first-class for our two wonderful young
men, thanks to Robert's generosity. It was their first chance to
be alone together. Alex was glowing for weeks afterward.
     There was a surprise visit from Bartholomew, and we talked
long into the night about pain, its nature and its uses. Alex had
become a bit of a scholar on the subject and he showered the
seasoned master with astute and sometimes difficult questions.
Bartholomew also brought us an amazing gift from his own
collection, carefully assembled in our dungeon by his own
experienced hands. A rack. The same one that had so fascinated
Alex during their first encounter. Alex inspected it carefully,
learning its workings inside and out. But we didn't use it.
Bartholomew understood.
     "When you are ready, young man, not before," he said,
shaking his hand as an equal. And they were equals, simply on
opposite ends.
     We had settled in to a comfortable routine. Alex' submission
was a daily part of our lives. He was always naked and collared
at home, when it was just the two of us, and those rules he
himself had first written, in days that seemed so long ago now,
were always our guide. He was thriving. Alex the slave. Alex the
boy. He was both, simply by being himself.
     All these things flashed through my mind as I woke up with
Alex sleeping soundly beside me. The warmth of his naked body
next to mine. The feel of his smooth hairless skin. The smell of
him unwashed, boyish and masculine. A moment I cherished. At last
I opened my eyes and pulled the blankets back, carefully. The boy
was on his side, snoring softly, a wonderful sound, high and
delicate and sweet. His slender arms were wrapped around his
pillow. I ran my hands lightly through his hair. It was in need
of a trim, longer now than it had been at the start of that
magical summer which seemed an entire age ago, though time had
been measured only in months. He'd also gone for some blond
highlights on the top, which made him look very cute and sexy. I
rubbed my fingers over the three rings that now adorned his left
earlobe. He moaned softly in his sleep.
     The welts and bruises from the night before were still vivid
upon his back, as vivid as the memory of what we'd done, as clear
and as beautiful as the boy's screams. It was our first night in
the dungeon since summer's end. Alex and I had spent these months
exploring new aspects of our special relationship, making
wondrous discoveries about one another, about dominance and
submission, pain and pleasure. So much ground for man and boy,
master and slave, to walk upon. There was discipline, there was
punishment, there was strict bondage often lasting an entire
weekend, there were light whippings when he needed them, and of
course his daily spankings, but the dungeon had remained locked,
until last night.
     The snow had been falling for hours when I picked him up
from school. The first big snowfall of the year. We both
instinctively knew he'd be staying home right through the
weekend. The time was ours.
     "Just for us," he'd said quietly as I drove us home. He
turned his gaze from the window and I saw his young eyes dancing
with the possibilities. I rested one hand tenderly on his thigh.
     "You're such a hopeless romantic," I replied with a smile.
     He smiled back and stuck his tongue out at me. "And you're
way too cynical."
     "Where did you learn that word?"
     "Television. Where else? It's all your fault, you know.
You're the one who makes me watch those news shows Sunday
mornings. I'm happy enough with cartoons."
     I laughed. "Well, we make an interesting pair then, don't
we?"
     He leaned over as far as his seatbelt would allow and
pressed his head against my shoulder, just for a moment. "We sure
do."
     The snow was falling harder by the minute. I turned us
carefully onto our long driveway. I was struck immediately by the
thought of making Alex shovel it in the nude, wearing just his
metal collar and shackles as the snow fell all around him, as the
wind blew harsh and cruel over his slender five-foot-and-a-few-
inches frame. I looked over at him and he read my mind. My boy
folded his arms and gave me his most defiant expression.
     "No freakin' way," he said, his soft tenor beginning to
betray the deepening voice of a young teenager.
     "You would if I told you to."
     "But you won't," he replied gently, with complete
assuredness.
     "You're right."
     I stripped him naked on the porch, as was our daily ritual
upon his return from school. Off came his baseball cap, his coat,
his boots. Then his sweater, his shirt, his socks. Finally his
jeans came down, revealing the jock strap he always wore under
everything else. Alex had to be on his honor at school, but the
strap was a constant reminder of my expectations. He was soft at
the moment and already shivering from the cold.
     "Were you a good boy today?" I asked, beginning his
interrogation as I always did.
     "Yes, sir," he said between chattering teeth.
     "Take it off."
     Alex slid the jock strap down his narrow hips and handed it
to me. I inspected it and felt the interior of the pouch, still
warm from being up against his genitals. As always it was a bit
wet from a full day of leaking pre-cum, but there were no other
incriminating signs.
     "Do I pass?" he asked with sly knowing eyes.
     "You do. How many erections did you have today?"
     He looked up at me with a guilty smile. "Two, sir."
     I waited in silence for his explanation.
     "I got hard after gym, sir. When Nate and I were showering
together. I . . . I like looking at him."
     I confess I liked looking at Nate too. He'd become a regular
visitor since the start of school, coming by to get help with his
homework, and to get his cock sucked by a very eager Alex. "And
the second time?"
     He smiled up at me. "In the car. I knew school'd be closed
tomorrow. I figured we'd do some stuff tonight."
     I put on my most innocent expression and took his hand.
"What kind of stuff, dear boy?"
     He lowered his head in mock shame but kept his eyes on me.
"Torture and sex. Lots of it. In that order, please."
     "I see."
     He laughed impishly and I pulled him into my arms. "Later,"
I said quietly into his ear. "Right now we have to warm you up.
Get your little ass inside, boy."
     Naked Alex scampered into the foyer, playful and full of
energy. Thirteen-and-one-half. The half was very important to
him. He could still be so childlike, it still came so naturally
for him, and yet it was also a remarkable young man who was
living under my roof now. From one day, or even one moment, to
the next, I could never be sure which Alex would be looking back
at me with those wonderful eyes. Often I guessed wrong, expecting
him to behave like an adult when he just wanted to be a kid, or
treating him like a child when he was determined to face a
problem on his own.
     "You're in one of your moods today, aren't you?" I asked.
     Alex shrugged with teenaged indifference, but his eyes
laughed. Then, suddenly, he became serious and subdued. I knew
what he wanted, what he needed. I removed the plain simple collar
he wore to school every day, no different from the type many boys
his age like to wear, and took the other one from its hook on the
wall. The one Robert had made for him, the one he'd worn all
summer, the one that seemed to hold some mythical importance to
him. I made Alex hold it while I opened the padlock. He fingered
the leather almost reverently.
     "Ready?" I asked gently, rubbing his shoulders.
     "Yes, master."
     I put it around his neck and locked it in place. He stood
straight and still for a moment, then we smiled and I hugged him,
caressing his smooth skin, warming him, feeling his taut young
muscles beneath his small, slender frame. In his left ear, the
one with those sexy rings in it, I told him.
     "I'm going to hurt you so bad tonight. I might even give you
a few scars. I'm going to make you scream, boy. I'm going to make
you cry and beg me to stop. But I won't stop. Not for a minute."
     He stood up on his toes and whispered back into my ear. "And
I won't say it. Not for a minute."
     We both knew what word he was talking about. I kissed him,
and the spell was broken, for the moment. "Why don't you get a
fire going for us, and I'll make some hot chocolate. Soup's in
the pot when we get hungry."
     "Ok."
     "Be careful with the matches."
     He rolled his eyes at me, which of course is why I'd said
it.
     We had a nice evening together, eating and talking and
watching one of his favorite science fiction films. He wrapped
himself in a blanket and snuggled up against me. I stroked his
hair and nibbled on his ear. Finally, as the snow continued to
fall, I spoke to him in a soft voice.
     "Go downstairs, Alex."
     He trembled for a moment, as he always did, then stood up
and let the blanket fall from his shoulders, revealing his
beautiful young body to me. His eyes smiled, and he disappeared
into the kitchen. I heard the door opening, and his feet creaking
on the steps. I left him there alone for close to an hour while I
tended the fire and cleaned up from dinner.
     When I entered our dungeon, Alex was sitting on the rack,
swinging his slender legs back and forth. He'd already locked his
leather cuffs around his wrists and ankles. I took his leash from
its place on the wall and stood in front of him. He looked at me,
and his eyes told me what his voice never could. He wanted it
hard and brutal. He wanted me cruel.
     He got it.
     I attached the leash to his collar and yanked him down onto
the floor.
     "Crawl you filthy little animal!" I shouted at him.
     I practically dragged the boy over to the punishment bench.
There I strapped him down onto his stomach, so tightly he could
barely breathe. I grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled his
head back, forcing the gag into his mouth and strapping it
painfully tight behind his head. I took the newest of our butt-
plugs, long and thick, and shoved it into his ass. Alex bucked
against the restraints and shouted in agony at the sudden
assault.
     I walked around to the front of the bench, taking the heavy
leather strap from the wall. Alex watched me with wide, terrified
eyes. "Two erections today. You know better. Are you hard right
now?" I asked.
     Alex blinked his eyes once.
     "You won't be when I'm finished with you."
     I laid into him relentlessly. Not since those days that
ended our most memorable summer had I hit him with such cruel and
calculated force. But his words to me that day had slowly changed
us both. In many ways, over the months that had passed since, it
felt like we were starting over, starting from a beginning of our
own making. All the choices were ours now. Mine and his. It was
good. And it was time to hear Alex scream again.
     My boy was sobbing quietly when I finished. His behind was
bruised and battered a deep purple, the backs of his thighs
bearing angry welts from the cat. I got him back on his feet and
he managed to keep his legs working long enough for me to drag
him over to the rack. He struggled and resisted and forced me to
tug hard on his leash. He stumbled and fell to his knees.
     "On your feet," I hissed, grabbing a handful of his hair and
pulling him up, all the while yanking him forward. "We're just
getting started, you and I. Get up there!"
     I practically threw his lean teenaged form onto the rack. He
landed roughly on his shoulder and shouted into his gag. He
curled his naked body into a tight little ball. Alex was fighting
me, really fighting me.
     "You know what I want, boy," I said with menace in my voice.
I tried to pull his arms into position.
     He shook his head and just lay there, refusing to move. I
whipped him savagely until he obeyed and slowly straightened
himself out. Alex was heaving and sobbing, his breaths coming in
short, rapid gasps. I dropped the whip, climbed on top of him and
pinned him down with my weight.  He closed his eyes and turned
his head away.
     "Alex, look at me."
     Instantly he did.
     "I need to know you're ok."
     He blinked his eyes once.
     "Alright then," I replied, laying a loving hand on his
chest, feeling his racing heart. "I won't ask you again." I
locked his wrists and ankles down one by one and slowly turned
the winches. I watched him as his developing young muscles began
to stretch. He pulled hard against the chains and thrashed around
until the slack was gone. He savored this, and so did I. I took
my time, gradually increasing the strain on his body. A quarter
turn would make him wince and moan. A half turn would make him
gasp and cry out. A full turn would make him scream in agony, the
sound muffled to a pathetic whimper by his gag.
     Once I was sure he was in constant pain, I began three hours
of unrelenting torture. I whipped him. I clamped his nipples. I
closed the metal vice around his balls and beat them until his
hysterical wails forced me to stop. I dripped hot wax onto the
boy's soft skin from his chest to his groin. I ran a single ice
cube over him until it melted away. Then I whipped his cock.
     "Don't cum."
     He shook his head even as he screamed. Even as his cock
surged and throbbed with each fierce and painful lash, he shook
his head. Quickly and harshly I removed his gag, practically
tearing it from his mouth.
     "Scream for me, Alex."
     He glared at me with youthful defiance.
     "No?" I said in a mocking tone as the small but biting whip
landed across his stomach. "We'll see." I took the cane from its
place on the far wall. His eyes froze at the sight of it. I stood
over him and gazed at his artwork that graced the white walls
around us. I was surrounded by his creativity, his imagination,
his deepest and darkest emotions. His pain. His suffering. It was
all here for us. But there was something new. Something he hadn't
told me, something he was waiting for me to discover.
     Among all of his drawings, there had never been a picture of
us. Until now. There it was. High on the wall, he must have stood
on top of his cage to do it. Like all of his art it was
representative, but it's meaning was clear. Two figures, one
smaller and more delicate than the other, their arms locked in a
loving embrace, their faces nondescript yet bright and full of
life and promise. They were in motion, and full of joy.
     I stared down at him in awe and wonder as tears filled my
eyes. He lay there before me, naked, sweating, in unspeakable
pain, and he smiled at me.
     "I love you," I said.
     He closed his eyes. "Show me."
     I raised the cane and brought it down hard upon his thighs.
He shrieked, and his screams echoed off the walls. All the while,
as I was beating him, I stared at that image on the wall, half
blinded by my tears, and every time I stopped and looked at Alex,
he managed to smile through his own.
     Hours later, Alex hung by his wrists from the chains in the
ceiling, his feet swinging above the floor, his back covered in
welts, five pounds of leaden weight dangling from his balls. His
cock was soft, just as I'd promised him it would be. Tears were
falling freely from his eyes now, and his voice was nearly gone.
His head fell upon his chest in exhaustion. He had nothing left,
and still I whipped him.
     I ended with the cane. And I kept my promise. The last blow
cut him, deeply. He was too weak to scream, but his mournful cry
is one I will never forget. It did leave a delicate scar, the
only one I ever gave him, marking him, and that moment, forever.
     Alex was nearly unconscious when I finally released him from
the chains. His legs were unable to support him, and he crumpled
to his knees. I knelt in front of him and took him into my arms,
holding him softly. He whimpered, and rested his head on my
shoulder.
     "We're not finished, baby. Get up."
     Grabbing hold of me, the boy slowly brought himself to his
feet. The weights still hung from his balls, stretched low, a
nice shade of purple. I wrapped my hand around his cock, and
walked him over to the small bed we kept in the corner. He moaned
as the weights swung between his tired legs. I pushed him down
gently onto his stomach. Alex lay there, breathing softly, gazing
at me with loving eyes.
     I kissed him on the forehead and returned a moment later
with a length of rope, and his gag. I pulled his arms behind his
back and tied his wrists tightly. Then I presented the gag to
him. My submissive boy opened his mouth to receive it.
     "Don't make a sound," I whispered in his ear.
     Reaching between his legs, I worked the butt-plug for a
while, twisting it around, pulling it out and letting his young
ass take it back in. Alex did his best to obey me, even as I
forcefully entered him. The only sounds were the creaking of the
bed, and his occasional quiet sobs. His eyes were open the entire
time, gazing off into a distance only he could fathom.
     When it was over, I stayed inside him for the longest time.
He lay still beneath me, and slowly fell asleep. When I was sure
he was out, I carefully unbuckled the ball stretcher and took the
weights away. Five pounds was far heavier than I'd realized as
they dangled in my hand. How many hours had he endured them? Time
seemed to have lost its meaning. I looked back at his sleeping
form as I returned everything to its place. He was amazing.
     I untied his wrists, and rubbed my hands over the deep marks
left by the rope. Carrying one hundred pounds of thirteen-year-
old boy up two flights of stairs was not an easy task. Growing
arms and legs made it awkward, but Alex woke up enough to put his
slender but muscular limbs around me.
     "Don't let me go," he said in a sleepy voice.
     "Never."
     I put him down in my own bed. He was gone again before his
head touched the pillow. I undressed and crawled in beside him,
wrapping him in the thick blankets and holding him close.
     And that was just how I awoke to find him that next morning.

     Alex stirred when I touched his shoulder. He raised his head
for a moment, then let it fall back down onto the pillow, unable
to find the strength.
     "What time is it?" he asked groggily.
     "Just after nine."
     "What day is it?" he then asked with a little laugh, more
awake.
     "Tomorrow."
     "Oh. I thought you whipped me into next week."
     "We can always try that later," I said, stroking his hair
and patting the back of his head.
     With some effort, and some obvious pain, he rolled himself
onto his back. He winced when the welts and bruises touched the
soft mattress.
     "How are you feeling?"
     He turned his eyes and not his head to me. "Sore. And
tired."
     "Racked joints?"
     Alex bent his left arm slowly and rolled his shoulder. He
stopped suddenly and took a sharp breath. "Ahhh. Yep.
Everything's stiff."
     I intentionally let his little pun go by. He turned his head
this time. I enjoyed teasing him, and he enjoyed being teased.
His eyes were so tired, but they still managed to be playful. "I
mean ev-er-y-thing," he said to emphasize his point.
     My hand moved slowly beneath the blankets and found the
boy's hard cock, warm and fully erect. It throbbed insistently,
and he trembled at my soft touch. He'd grown to seven inches now,
a thick, long, beautiful organ for a boy still years away from
his first shave. I pulled his foreskin up over the swollen crown,
then down again. It always drove him crazy. He spread his legs
and thrust his narrow hips up at me.
     "How long has it been, Lexi?" I asked him.
     I'm sure he knew the count right down to the minute. "Four
weeks and three days, sir."
     More than a month since I'd allowed him to have an orgasm.
His days at school spent with the tight jockstrap confining him,
his nights and weekends spent in the chastity belt always with a
plug in his ass. We had never gone this long before nor ever this
strict.
     "You thought I was going to make you cum last night, didn't
you?"
     He nodded and sighed. "You didn't even touch it. Not once."
     It was not disappointment that tinged his voice, but a
certain unmistakable satisfaction that comes with the total
embrace of conflicting desires. He was desperate for an orgasm,
but equally aroused by the thought of never having one. The two
extremes fed one another, keeping him in an often dizzying state
of sexual desire and frustration.
     "I think I'll milk you tonight."
     Alex smiled and moved his body closer, pressing his slender
frame against me. I lay on my side, and rested a hand on his
chest. I could feel his young heart pounding. His soft skin was
still so warm from being under the blankets.
     "Can we light some candles?" he asked. "Like we did the
first time?"
     I kissed him on the cheek and tickled his navel. His giggle
was that of a boy. "Anything you want, Alex. We'll make it
special. Tonight will be just for you, ok?"
     "Ok." He reached over and stroked my erection, his young
hand sure, his dreamy expression one of single-minded purpose.
     "Alex . . ."
     He shook his head at me but did not say a word, or take his
hand away. The boy wrestled with the blankets for a moment, and
was soon straddling me, his firm slender legs pressing against my
thighs. Smooth and silken, a wondrous touch. I swirled my fingers
around his knees and worked my hands gently, lovingly into his
flesh. I could see the shape and form of the young muscles in his
thighs, the subtle ripples of his tight lean abdomen, the
delicate curves of his boyish shoulders. He was breathing softly
and gazing down at me, both hands on my dick now, his own
erection snaking up toward his stomach, pointing to his chin.
     Such an unexpected moment. Alex was in control. He'd never
done anything like this before. He moved himself forward,
timidly, awkwardly. It was a beautiful sight. I knew what he was
about to do.
     "Go ahead, baby," I whispered.
     His hands were shaking, but they guided my cock to his
opening. With a deep groan, the boy lowered himself. I put my
hands on his hips to steady him, and he sat down.
     Alex winced as he wiggled around to get it just right.
"Aaahh. Ohhh, wow."
     He bent over, and I reached up and touched my fingers to his
face. "You're on top, Alex."
     "Doesn't feel like it," he replied, his voice thick but
barely a whisper.
     I moved him slowly up and down. He moaned and whimpered then
took up the rhythm on his own. His hazel eyes were glazed, as
they always were when I was inside him.
     "That's it, boy, fuck yourself."
     He was bucking wildly, shouting and crying, a constant
stream of clear fluid oozing from his cock, dribbling down onto
my stomach. I came with a shout of my own, grabbing his slender
hips and giving him several hard, violent thrusts. Alex collapsed
on top of me, my cock still buried inside him.
     After several minutes I lifted him slowly off me and rolled
him onto his back. Alex blinked his eyes slowly, and he wrapped
his left hand around his throbbing penis, still hard and begging
for attention. I let him jerk himself off, the first time he'd
touched himself that way in six months. I watched him, seeing
every muscle in his body tense and relax and tense again, every
little shudder of his slim teenaged frame. His eyes were tightly
closed, his tongue lapping out over his lips. He was grunting
quietly to himself. His breaths quickened.
     "Are you going to cum?"
     "I'm about to."
     I grabbed his wrist and pulled it away. He resisted, just
for a moment, then lay still and quiet. He turned his head, at
once loving me and hating me for stopping him. We remained in bed
for another hour, catnapping, talking, just being brothers and
lovers.
     "Think you can get up?" I finally asked.
     "I'm already up," he replied with a laugh, wiggling his hips
and making his softening cock bounce around from side to side.
     "Without giving me a smart answer for once?"
     "Nope."
     "Well, get up anyway and hit the showers. I'll start
breakfast for us."
     "French toast?" he asked hopefully.
     It was a rare treat to be able to relax for breakfast on a
weekday, so I agreed. Alex crawled out of bed and stretched
himself, gingerly, still unsure of just how well he could move
his tired and tortured joints. His cute behind was still purple
and deeply bruised. He wouldn't be sitting down today.
     "When you're done, I want you to get dressed."
     "Don't you want me naked?" he asked in mock innocence,
splaying his arms out in a playful gesture before realizing how
much it hurt.
     "You'll be naked alright," I replied, throwing a pillow at
him, "but only when I say. Now get marching. I'll unlock your
closet for you."
     Alex threw the pillow right back, gave me his trademark bow,
and tried his best to follow my orders. His march was more of a
stiff shuffle. I lay there in bed until I heard the water
running, then dressed, unlocked the door to the closet that held
the boy's clothes, and made my way downstairs. The snow was still
falling, and the wind was howling. A nice day to stay inside with
my wonderful boy.
     I was just putting the French toast on the griddle when Alex
appeared. His hair was still wet and he hadn't bothered to brush
it. He'd put on a worn and comfortable pair of jeans, holes in
the knees and just tight enough to show him off in all the right
places, and he was wearing the leather vest I'd bought him for
his thirteenth birthday. It was a bit too fancy for school, but
he'd worn it out to restaurants over button-down collared shirts,
and it was required apparel for visits with Robert and Michael.
This time he had nothing on underneath, just his beautiful bare
skin, its youth and softness accentuated by the dark leather. It
went well with his collar and cuffs.
     "Damn, you're sexy," I said with an appreciative whistle.
     He gave me a bright smile and we shared a deep and
passionate kiss.
     "Coffee?" he asked as he took two mugs from their pegs under
the counter.
     "Sure."
     He poured mine black, then mixed his own with large
quantities of milk and sugar.
     "That's not coffee," I said, gazing down at the almost white
liquid in his cup.
     "Is for me."
     We took everything in the living room to watch the latest on
the storm. Alex knelt beside me as I sat on the couch. I offered
him the cushion next to me, but he rubbed his rear end, winced,
and politely refused.
     We spent most of the day doing absolutely nothing. At his
suggestion we did bundle up and go outside for a while, where I
got pelted with snowballs and where we made a rather obscene
snowman.
     "Shit, he's even bigger than you," he exclaimed as we shaped
the frosty fellow's most prominent feature.
     "But I won't melt in your mouth," I replied.
     Alex gave me a wicked smile, dropped to his knees and sucked
the snowman's cock.
     "You really are incorrigible," I said, pulling him to his
feet.
     "Thanks!" he replied.
     "That wasn't a compliment, you shameless hornball."
     I got a snowball square in the chest for that one.
     Back indoors it was hot chocolate and warm blankets for us,
then he went off to play video games for a while. I put a stew on
for dinner as the bleeps and sound effects echoed through the two-
hundred-year-old house. An incongruity that made me smile.
     Things suddenly got quiet, which often made me nervous, or
at least curious, where Alex was concerned. Putting on my most
nonchalant attitude, I wandered back into the living room. He was
on the sofa, wrapped in the old quilt, his head buried in the
pages of the latest fantasy adventure to catch his eye. I
understood his love for those kinds of stories. In fantasy, boys
get to be heroes, they get to do amazing things on incredible
journeys. Of course, Alex' real-life journey has been rather
incredible too.
     He looked up from his book as I sat down beside him.
     "Good reading, kiddo?" I asked.
     "Yep. You should write some stuff like this."
     "Think so?"
     "Hell, I'd read it."
     I squeezed his bare feet and winked at him. "I know who my
main character would be."
     "Let me guess . . ." he replied with a sly grin.
     "The Amazing Alex," I proclaimed.
     He laughed.
     "Problem is I wouldn't know what powers to give him."
     Alex looked at me deeply. "He doesn't have any. That's what
makes him special."
     I didn't know what to say to that, but I did know I'd one
day write his story. And Alex does have a certain magic, a way of
touching peoples' lives in ways they never could have imagined.
He's never seen it in himself, but everyone he's close to feels
it every day.
     "Ready for dinner?" I asked.
     "Starving."
     "Stand up."
     The tone of my voice was our quiet signal. He looked at me
for a moment, gave me a little smile, then put his book down. He
got to his feet, leaving the quilt behind on the sofa. Alex stood
at attention with his arms at his sides.
     "Go upstairs and take your clothes off. I want you to put
your vest back on, and a jockstrap, the leather one . . . the new
one," I added, since he had several of them now.
     His young eyes flashed. He'd only worn that particular
combination a few times, but he loved the way it looked and felt.
     "Bring me your thigh cuffs, and your plug."
     "Yes, sir. Anything else, sir?"
     I was feeling rather kinky this evening. "Put on your high-
tops, your black ones. No socks."
     "Yes, sir." And he was off.
     Alex had learned to hide his excitement. In the early days
of our journey together he would have torn up the stairs and
thundered around above my head getting himself ready. No longer.
His lean graceful from climbed the steps, slowly, purposefully,
drawing out this moment of anticipation as long as he could, for
both of us.
     He was taking his time today. I didn't mind. I heard the
shower running. He's making himself clean for me. Thirty minutes
later he came down the steps again and stood before me, his hair
dried and glistening with gel, his plug in one hand, the thigh
cuffs in the other. He set them down on the floor at his feet.
     "Let me look at you," I said softly as the fire crackled and
began to light the room in the coming of evening. Alex smiled at
me, a dreamy expression on his gentle face.
     He was gorgeous, this beautiful boy, his firm slender
athletic body glowing in the firelight. The leather was perfect
on him, all in black. His collar with its shining metal studs,
his cuffs an attractive accent to his slim boyish wrists and
ankles, his special vest. His jockstrap. This one did not have an
opening for his cock and balls. Everything was tucked neatly away
in an ample pouch. He ran his left hand over it, softly, gently,
and let out a satisfied sigh. Alex loved the feel of leather
against his skin. The look of it, the smell of it. It was
intoxicating to him.
     I picked up his thigh cuffs and returned them to his hands.
     "Oh, yeah," I heard him whisper. He moved closer to me.
Fresh and clean he smelled, and he'd used a bit of my cologne,
something he rarely did. Just a hint, nothing to overpower his
delicate boyish scent.
     I rubbed his thighs with my hands, massaging them, squeezing
the wiry developing muscles beneath the soft smooth skin. I
circled my fingers around his knees, making him gasp softly. He
spread his legs apart for me. I took the left cuff and buckled it
around his thigh, clicking the padlocks in place. The right
followed.
     His eyes were watering by the time I'd finished.
     "You always make me feel so special," he said, his young
emotions getting the better of him.
     "I don't have to do anything to make you special,
Alexander."
     He was about to hug me, but I held up the butt-plug in my
hands. He nodded. Plugging him had always been a somber serious
moment. Alex bent over and grabbed his ankles. I leaned in and
licked his young hole with my tongue. The boy moaned in delight
and wiggled his hips.
     "I'm not going to use any lube this time, sweetie," I
whispered, as I pressed the silvery metal plug against his
opening. "This is going to hurt you."
     He took in a sharp breath. "I'm ready, master."
     Alex cried out when I forced it in, but he stayed on his
feet. I turned him around slowly and wiped the tears from his
eyes, drawing him into my arms, bending down to kiss him firmly
and roughly on the lips, one hand behind his head, the other
squeezing the contents of the leather pouch between his legs. I
could feel him getting hard. His breaths quickened.
     "Excited, aren't you?"
     "Yes, sir," he said in a trembling voice.
     "Patience."
     "Hug me."
     I always followed that particular order. It took him a few
minutes to come down from his agitated state. When he was soft
again, we made our way into the kitchen. He served me, and knelt
at my feet while I took the first few bites. I smiled down at him
and a little swat on his rear told him to get up and fix a bowl
for himself. He joined me at the table, standing as he always did
in the empty space were his chair would have been.
     We cleaned up together, which made him very happy. That was
always a job he hated.
     "Let's go upstairs," I said when we had finished.
     He nodded and rested his head against my chest.
     In his room, we lit the candles together. He selected
several classical pieces he'd been exploring lately, and dropped
the discs into his player. His taste in music had definitely
improved in recent months.
     "You're getting so grown up."
     Always sensitive, Alex heard the touch of melancholy in my
voice. He took my hand. He raised it and touched it to his
collar, holding it there. His silent message was clear.
     I stripped him. His vest, his jockstrap, his shoes, until
only his collar and his cuffs remained.
     "Make yourself hard for me, Alex," I said softly.
     The boy carefully fingered his cock, pulling back the
foreskin, rubbing himself slowly until his erection was full and
throbbing. He took his hands away immediately and put them behind
his head. I reached down and stroked him myself, caressing his
balls dangling low between his legs.
     "Mmmm." Alex' eyes were tightly closed. He bit his lower
lip.
     "Lie down."
     With his cock pointed toward his chin, he walked to the bed
and rolled himself onto his back. One at a time I took the chains
and attached them to his cuffs, stretching him tightly, spreading
him. The expression on his young face was one of absolute trust.
     I stroked him again just to keep him hard, and I ran my
fingers through the soft sparse growth of pubic hair that had
returned above his cock. I'd not shaved him in a few weeks, busy
schedules sometimes leaving no room for the smaller rituals.
     "Don't you go anywhere," I said.
     He pulled against the chains to assure me he was quite
secure.
     I returned with the gel and razor we kept for this very
purpose. Alex lay his head back and closed his eyes. Still so few
and so soft, a wispy dusting, it took no time at all, leaving him
bare and smooth. With great care I shaved his balls as well, not
that they really required it, but I knew he always enjoyed the
feeling. The rest of him needed no such attention, but I made a
show of it for him, inspecting his body from head to toe. There
were in fact a few fine light hairs on his legs, but they were
invisible to the casual eye.
     "All done." I wiped him off. He smiled and let out a long-
held breath, then raised his head from the pillow looking down
the length of his outstretched frame. I took the bottle of oil
from the nightstand and poured little drops onto his chest and
stomach, working the soothing fluid into his skin, letting it
pool in his navel. I massaged his arms with it, and his legs.
     "Are you warm enough?" I asked. He was shivering.
     "Yeah. It just feels so good."
     I took his penis into my hands.
     "Aaaahh."
     "Relax."
     "Yes, sir."
     Alex was very hard, and already leaking. I kneaded his balls
and gave him several quick firm strokes. He moaned and tensed in
his bonds. The chains rattled quietly as he pulled and tugged. I
ran a finger over his slit, wetting it with his fluid and
pressing it to his lips. He suckled frantically as I continued to
move his foreskin up and down his throbbing shaft. Little moans
and grunts issued from his throat.
     I stopped for several minutes, watching him roll his head
from side to side as his cock continued to strain, desperate for
relief.
     And then I took him in my hand again, slowly this time, a
soft gentle touch, pausing to swirl my fingers around his swollen
crown, glistening in the candlelight. He let out a high-pitched
squeal and curled his toes. His body tensed.
     I stopped again.
     I kept him on edge for nearly an hour before I milked the
first drops of seed from his balls. It dribbled out of him onto
his stomach, thick and purest white. His eyes were open, staring
off in a daze of pleasure and anguish. Another short interlude,
and then I did it again, coaxing yet more from him. Alex was
panting now, and thrusting his hips up to meet my hand. I jerked
him hard and fast. He let out a frantic sob.
     "I'm not gonna last," he said between gasping breaths. "I'm
gonna cum."
     "I know, sweetheart. Just a little longer. Don't let it
happen yet."
     Quickly I straddled him, while he still had some control. I
reached back, gently guiding him into me. I could feel him
entering, I could feel his length, his thickness, and I imagined
I could feel his warmth. I lowered myself slowly, resting my
hands on his thighs. It was done. My Alex was inside me. He gazed
at me in confusion and wonder.
     The deepest of submissives, I knew he could never bring
himself to do this on his own. But he had a right to know what it
felt like, a right to share and know the pleasure he had so often
given me. The boy's mouth dropped open, but it seemed his voice
had left him.
     "How does it feel, Lexi?"
     His hazel eyes met with mine. "Warm," he whispered.
     I leaned forward, my hands gently caressing his sides,
rocking slowly back and forth, driving his aching cock deeper
each time.
     His eyes were wide. And in the midst of almost unbearable
pleasure he spoke to me. "I love you."
     "Show me," I said, returning his words to him.
     "I . . . I . . ."
     "Cum for me, Alex."
     And he did. A powerful orgasm that seemed to come from the
depths of the boy's soul. When he was done Alex lay there beneath
me, motionless, the most beautiful smile I had ever seen lighting
up his sweet and gentle face.
     I released him from the chains. Immediately he sat up and
threw his arms around me. We embraced. Brothers, lovers, master
and slave. Alex moved his hand over my heart. I did the same for
him. I could feel it beating beneath his soft skin.
     "Who's my boy?" I asked.
     "I am."
     Then he raised his eyes to me, sensitive, piercing,
beautiful. His voice was soft and quiet, but sure. "Your slave
forever."
     I kissed his forehead, and his cute freckled nose. I turned
him over gently and removed his plug. I made love to him, long
into the night, the only sounds his delicate moans and joyful
sobs. I was still inside him when he fell asleep in my arms.
     'Your slave forever'. Alex had meant that with all of his
heart, but I knew it could never be true. Time was taking him
away from me, more and more each day, slowly, without the boy's
knowledge. When he said those words, he believed them. I was not
sad. This is how it is supposed to be. I gazed at his sleeping
face, so gentle, so intelligent, and still so young. My boy. My
slave. My Alex.
     I decided I would enjoy forever, for as long as it was mine
to keep.

End.


Author's notes: Well, gentle readers, that's it. Alex and Steve
need some time to themselves for a while, and I need to move on
to other things. It has been a joy sharing their adventures with
you, and I'm happy Alex has touched so many of you in special
ways. He has always been a part of me, and always will be.

Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to write and share your
thoughts and encouragement since this journey began. Alex and I
have made a lot of new friends! Thanks especially to Nick,
Spokes, and Ghostwriter_XYZ who've challenged me and made me
think, to Josh who keeps me smiling, and of course to Scott, the
love of my life with whom I have everything and without whom Alex
could not exist.

Alex has a whole lifetime ahead of him, and I am sure we'll see
him again. Bye for now.

istari