Date: Fri, 8 Nov 2019 13:55:02 -0600 From: Jeff Moses Subject: A Link in the Chain This is a work of fiction. It includes scenes of BDSM between a teen and an adult. No resemblance to persons living or dead is intended. If you are underage, or if possession of this text is illegal in your area, leave now. Some of the activities described in this story may cause injury or transmit diseases, including HIV. Please play safe--I don't want to lose any fans! If you enjoy this site, be cool and click the "Donate" link at the top of the index and contribute to maintain it! (Nifty is a 501-c-3 non-profit organization.) Looking for more of my stories? I'm honored. Look for "Jeff Moses" on Nifty's Authors page. And feedback is always welcome! Authors retain rights to and title to their submitted works. (Please consult Nifty's submission guidelines for more information.) A Link in the Chain I was an ordinary teen-age boy: the sort of kid you probably wouldn't notice in a crowd, average height and build, brown-ish hair. Pretty much a straight B student. Not hopeless at sports, but not good enough to try out for any teams. And like most boys my age, I was horribly confused about sex. In my case though, the confusion was compounded: I was into other boys, not girls. It wasn't exactly cool to be gay in my crowd--not anything to get too worked up about. But when it's you that's going through figuring it all out, it's different. My dad was a corporate comptroller. When I was eleven, my mom took a part-time job as a librarian. We lived in a nice older home that happened to be on a larger-than-average lot, and my dad and I were responsible for the yard. My mom loved flowers and shrubs and stuff, but Dad and I had to do the work. We had a shed in the back of our lot, mostly full of yard stuff: the lawn mower, rakes and shovels, that sort of thing. I loved the shed: it was like a scrap of some other world, smelling of wood, tools, soil, and something I never could figure out: something that made it incredibly erotic. When I could, I snuck into the shed and jacked off. At first, it was just slip in, stand in the back, and play with myself. But over time, my jack-off sessions got more elaborate. But by the time I was fourteen, they usually involved getting naked, tying my feet together and lying down on the floor so I could hang the rope between my ankles over a hook on the wall. I had a piece of chain I draped around my neck--no lock, but with the ends hanging from the back, I could at least feel the weight of it. I'd wrap some more rope around my wrists and go to it. Then my dad hired Keith as our part-time handyman and yard man. (Whatever else my dad was good at, home repairs weren't on the list.) Keith was tall, and strong, and friendly. Keith had curly black hair and perfect teeth and during the summer he sometimes wore a sleeveless t-shirt. Keith drove a battered pickup truck. Keith always seemed to have a few minutes to spare for a stupid 14-year-old. I was in love. From then on, my jack-off fantasies, both in bed at night and in the shed, involved--no, starred--Keith. Keith as a Roman gladiator, as a pirate, as the guy in charge of the medieval torture chamber. There were more that I don't remember; what was important in my fantasies is that I was helpless and he was standing over me and I was at his mercy and I can feel my cock swelling right now! I have no idea why I forgot that Keith would be working that day--unless I was sabotaging myself. Anyhow, it was a hot August afternoon and I was all set up in the shed. I'd even blindfolded myself and tied my hands to my thighs so I could feel the bondage pulling at them while I worked my cock. I could feel the juice building in my balls and there he was, Pirate Keith, grinning and reaching out and-- "Ahem." I froze, but my cock didn't. Cum spewed all over the place. "Wow!" Keith's voice said. "You almost hit the roof!" I was frantically struggling to untie my hands. To make things worse, I get really sensitive after I cum, and the tugging of the ropes was making me squirm like crazy. Then I felt Keith's powerful hand on my chest. "Easy, Doug. It's all right. Give yourself a few seconds," he said. It was an order, so I did it. I just stopped. And I felt Keith's hands near my crotch, untying my wrists. My face was burning. I imagined for a moment that the blindfold might catch on fire! Then, my hands were free, sort of. Keith was holding both of them in one of his hands, while he slipped the blindfold off so I could see him smiling at me. "Don't worry," he said. "Everybody jacks off. It's nothing to be embarrassed about." "Keith!" I said, because I couldn't think of any other words. "You okay now, Doug?" "Yeah! I was just, um, experimenting?" I offered. Keith chuckled. "It seems to have worked. You almost hit the roof. Your dick went wild--even hit me!" "Oh, jeez! I'm sorry! I'll get a towel or--" "It's all right, Doug." He unhooked my tied ankles and helped me to my knees. "See?" he said, pointing to a blob of cum on his shirt, about where his bellybutton was. "I wouldn't mind if you licked it off--if you want to." Suddenly, that was all I wanted. There were two things in my universe: my tongue and that spot. I leaned forward, and Keith stepped closer. I touched the blob. I sucked it in, along with a little of Keith's shirt. I smelled Keith. My forehead was pressing against his abdomen, against the steel-hard muscles of his abdomen. I released his shirt and dropped back, completely mindless. "Doug? You okay?" Was I? I tried nodding my head, and it didn't fall off, so I whispered, "Yeah." I looked up at Keith, into his eyes. "I..." I started to say, but I had no idea what the next words should be. "Hi," I tried, at last. Keith crouched down so we were face to face. His voice was soft, but it filled my head. "Doug? Are you into this stuff, being tied up, and chained up?" The chain! I'd completely forgotten about the chain, which was still hanging around my neck. "Yes," I managed to whisper. "It's called bondage, and you're not the only guy who's into it. There are lots of us." "But I'm--I mean it's just--I--us?" Keith nodded. "I like bondage games too, Doug. Long as both of us--whoever I'm with, as long as it's consensual. Do you know what that means?" He didn't give me a chance to answer. "It means that we're both doing what we want to do with each other." Us. We. Each other. Was he talking about me?! "One other thing you should know, Doug. I'm gay. I hope that doesn't freak--" I threw myself against him and wrapped my arms around his legs, just below his butt, and he barely managed to keep us from falling. "Whoa!" he said. "Doug! Easy, boy." I rubbed my face against the bulge in his jeans. I wanted to laugh, or cry or something, but I didn't want to do anything that would separate my face from his crotch, not even a hair's breadth. I squeezed harder. "Doug? Can you hear me, Doug?" I nodded, just a bit, and felt his cock respond. "Doug! Get back on your knees." The command was irresistible. I moved back and stared up at Keith's face. I felt him lift me to my still tied feet. "Doug! Listen to me very, very carefully. It looks like you have a crush on me, and that's okay. Hell, that's great! I would love to...I'm a lot more experienced than you, Doug. And I care about you, and...God, what am I saying? If we did anything--do anything, it's only ever because you want to, understand? Any time you want things to stop, just say so. I give you my word, Doug. I will never, ever do anything to you that you don't want--" I stood on my tiptoes and grabbed his head and stopped him with a kiss. I'd heard people say, for the longest time, that "you'll know when it's right." And it's true! At least it was for me. I suddenly knew exactly how to kiss, tongues and all, and I haven't got any idea where I learned it. And it must have been right, because Keith was kissing right back! We pulled apart. That was another mystery: how we both knew when the kiss was over. "I, um, I think I'm in love with you," I said, staring at his eyes. "It's an honor," he answered, and stroked my cheek. "But you know about adults and kids and--" "I don't care! I'm not a kid! Kids don't feel like this!" "Yes, they do, Doug. I remember feeling this way when I was your age, and wanting more than anything...wanting this, actually. His name was Marcus, and I wanted him to take...anyway, I remember how it felt, and I was a kid, Doug." "So you...I can't--you won't--" Keith took a deep breath that stopped me. "Marcus taught me a lot. Maybe made me who I am, today. I-- you--we belong to a small group of gay guys who are into--" He touched the chain around my neck and it was almost like that static shock you get sometimes in the winter. "It's great fun, and really powerful, and it's kind of dangerous, unless you--one of you, at least--knows what he's doing." He was silent for a bit, but he didn't turn his eyes away from mine. At last, he sighed. "I had sex with Marcus--my very first. Thank god he was a decent man." Keith chuckled. "In fact, we had almost the same conversation I'm having with you, right now, and that conversation, Marcus told me, was sort of like the conversation he'd had with his mentor." "Mentor?" "Like a teacher, or a guide. It's almost like sacred wisdom, in a way. That sounds dumb, I know--" "I want that! I need--shit, I have all these feelings racing around in me and I don't know which ones are okay, and which ones are...not okay, I guess. Please teach me, Keith. Please!" Keith looked into my eyes, and his voice got really soft. "All right, Doug. I will." And he stroked my cheek again. "First thing: no jacking off tonight. No jacking off until I tell you it's okay. Understand?" No jacking off? That was unexpected. I guess I thought we'd sort of tumble into a wonderland of nonstop sex, or something. But maybe it was a test--to see if I was serious about... "Okay. I won't touch it, except to pee. I promise." And I kept my word. The first thing Keith did, the next day, was tie me to this old lawn chair--one of those metal ones, you know? And he blindfolded me. "Now, I'm going to ask you some questions. And you have to tell the truth. If you don't tell the truth, I won't be able to mentor you. Understand?" "Yes, Sir." "Why did you call me 'sir'?" "It just felt...you're a teacher, I guess." "Do you call your teachers 'sir'?" "I don't think so. Just 'Mister Lennox,' or 'Miss Becker,' and like that." "But you call me 'sir'." "It just feels like I should, Sir." "When did you start masturbating?" "Eleven, I think. Maybe ten, Sir." "What did you think about?" "I remember! There was this movie, about gladiators, and there was this one guy all shiny with sweat, and with this kind of harness thing, I guess for his sword, or something, and right away when I saw him I couldn't stop thinking about him and it made me...hard. Sir." And he went on, and I told him about being interested in getting tied up, and what I fantasized about, and I got really embarrassed when I told him about my fantasies about him, but by then it was like I couldn't refuse to answer his questions--and they got pretty detailed, like how I liked rusty chains better than shiny ones and how I put the end of my finger in my asshole sometimes and about being all naked and helpless in a dungeon cell and...just about everything. And I got hornier and hornier and I really wanted to play with my--I really wanted to cum all over everything, actually. After my interrogation, Keith called it, he took me to these woods in his truck, and he had a couple of blankets and we found this really secret place and just got naked and lay down next to each other and he let me touch him all over, and at last I climbed on top of him and pressed my dick against his and kind of rubbed around and we both shot and it was heaven! My folks were actually glad that I was spending time with Keith. I don't know if they would have been happy if they knew what we were actually doing, but they knew I was happy, and learning stuff about electricity and plumbing and even fixing power lawn mowers! My dad said it was like Boy Scouts, "but without those silly uniforms." Keith tied me up. He'd play with my cock until I was begging him to let me cum. He even gave me blow jobs. And he put the end of his finger into my butt sometimes, like I did--but it was Keith! And then one day he got me so hot I agreed to give him a blow job! That turned out to be a little trickier than I thought it would be: we had to retrain my gag reflex. I had to go back to school in the fall. By then, though, I knew where Keith lived, and some days he'd pick me up at school and we'd do stuff for an hour or so and then he'd run me home. And sometimes I'd go over for a Saturday. That's when I found out about the motorcycle. I can still remember hugging him when he took me riding, pressing myself against his leather jacket, and how it smelled. Sometimes, he wore it when we had sex: there I would be, on my knees all naked with a chain around my neck--locked, now!--and these police leg cuffs on and my hands cuffed behind me, kneeling in front of Keith, with my mouth full of his cock, staring up at him in that jacket. He was Master Keith, now, when we were playing, or just Master. It felt...right. He always asked me afterwards if anything he'd done didn't feel right. He was super-careful about that. I didn't even have to tell him how it didn't feel right, just that I wasn't comfortable doing it. Of course, being tied up or strapped down or chained up isn't what you'd call "comfortable," but it was sexy enough that it didn't matter. So there's a difference between sexy uncomfortable and just plain uncomfortable. Master Keith lived in this tumble-down house in this kind of scary part of town, and lots of the things I learned about fixing things I learned helping him fix his house. When we weren't fixing things or having sex, I had these exercises I had to do with the chain around my neck, like forced labor or something. I know I got horny doing them, most of the time. For my fifteenth birthday, he got me a leather harness, with straps all over my body so I felt it with every move I made. When I put it on and stood in front of the mirror, I could tell the exercises were working, too. The best part was I could wear the harness under my winter clothes and nobody would know! I just had to remember not to let Mom or Dad hug me when I was wearing it. I felt powerful. That's weird, because I'd be tied to a tree or stretched out and tied to the corners of Keith's bed, and I'd be all naked and he'd have his jacket on and be just doing whatever to me, and I felt powerful! Somehow, it was like he was sharing his strength with me. I wondered if it was something in his cum, maybe. And the exercises, or maybe just getting older, or probably both were making my body look less geeky, more like a guy. One day, Keith asked me if I ever thought about getting whipped. "Yeah," I said. "I sort of tried it once, slapping my back with a belt, but...it wasn't--it just hurt, you know?" "What if...could I try it? Just an experiment?" Of course, I'd fantasized about it! But I wasn't stupid--I knew the real thing was probably pretty painful. And scary. And in the drawings and pictures I'd seen, there were always these cuts and blood and stuff. On the other hand, this was Keith. I nodded. "Okay," I said. "How do we do it?" How we did it was in his attic. I got naked, and he tied my hands to the rafters, and he took his belt and folded it in half and swatted my butt. It was kind of like getting slapped. "Okay?" Keith asked. "Yes, Master." "I know!" he said. "As long as you're not...as long as you're into it, I'm Master, but if you want me to stop, or something, call me Keith, okay?" I agreed, and he went to work. He went slowly, so the pain would ease up between strokes, and every few blows he'd ask me if it was okay. After a while, he switched to my upper back. That was a different kind of pain, but still...my cock was hard. Then, he tried a riding crop on my ass. I was good for one stroke: that damn thing hurt! Keith was all over me, stroking my body and hugging me and telling me that I was tough, and brave. But when he said he'd never do it again, I stopped him. "Maybe it's like exercising," I said. "And I can sort of work up to it, you know?" So we agreed to practice whipping sessions. For Christmas, he made a sort of bench thing. It was designed so I could bend over at one end of it with my ass sticking out and my legs strapped to the legs, and my body strapped to the main part, and there was a hole for my face and arm rest things to strap my arms to. And believe it or not, I was actually comfortable! So I was helpless and my butt was right out there for paddling. He used a hairbrush, and the belt, and sometimes his hands, and every time a couple of strokes with the riding crop. "Doug," he said, one day after I was all strapped in, "You know I love it when you give me a blow job, but...you have a really nice ass, Doug." "And you want to fuck it?" I said. I'd heard about getting fucked in the ass by then: I guess every guy has by sixteen. But I also heard it hurt like hell. But this was Keith. Master. "I don't know how to...if I can do that, Master. You're pretty big, Master." "Well, if you want to...I could get you ready for it. Teach you how to take it. If you want--" "Please, Master!" I mean, if I was ever going to get fucked and like it, it would have to be Master Keith! So he started by just massaging my hole--just the outside. He took me to the bathroom and showed me how to clean out my ass with this shower thing he had, and then we went to the spare bedroom where the fuck bench was and he strapped me in place, and just massaged my hole. I was used to getting spanked and whipped back there, but this was like the opposite. This felt fantastic! But not as fantastic as when he started licking it, pushing the tip of his tongue against it. I wanted him to get his tongue in; I got to where I could sort of relax myself some, and then he said he was going to put his finger in. He put a ton of grease on me and his finger and very slowly pressed it into my asshole. "Just relax like you were taking a shit, Doug." "Yes, Master." He'd done it before a few times, just a little, like to the second knuckle, but this was different. Master Keith got his finger all the way into my hole, and it was...I can't describe it. It felt like he was stretching it, at first, and I was afraid it wouldn't work, but then Bam! And it was way inside me, and my dick was twitching. He got me dildos. The smallest one was about the size of his finger, but longer. And they went up to one that was a little smaller than my cock, and then one that was a little smaller than his, and by Memorial Day weekend I could take that big one! And Keith used to sit on a chair and watch me fuck myself with it. He rigged up this clamp thing on a pole attached to the wall so I could back up onto it just like he was standing behind me. I got to where I could sort of wiggle my ass around until I was so hot I came without touching my cock or anything. We had to get the yard going, and the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend Keith asked if it would be okay if I went over to his place to help get things sharpened up for the summer, and my folks said "sure!" Of course, everything was already sharpened, but the folks didn't know that. Keith got me all strapped in place and greased up, and I felt the tip of his cock pressing against me and I would have backed up onto it if I could have, but I was strapped down so he had to do all the work! The thing was though, even though I couldn't wiggle my ass, Keith could sure as hell wiggle his cock. It was almost like he could feel what I was feeling as he worked his way in and out. "Good boy!" he said. "Thank you, Master. I love your cock, Master!" "Yeah!" And he started pounding harder and harder and it almost felt like the whole bench moved. He was panting, and I was moaning and trying to get my ass even closer to his cock and he suddenly grabbed my hips and I could actually feel the cum rushing up his cock and into me. And then I was shooting, too. Keith collapsed onto my back. I could smell him, and feel his chest moving, and then I felt his cock starting to shrink. "I love you," I whispered. He peeled himself off of me and flopped onto his bed. "I'll get you loose in a minute. Gotta catch my breath, first." "It's okay, Master." It wasn't, exactly--now that I'd cum, I realized just how tight all the straps were and everything, but I was still helpless, at the mercy of my Master, and that made up for it. *** "Sorry," I said to the two guys at the door. "We'll be open in just a few minutes," and I let myself into the hardware store. Mark, my assistant manager, was supposed to open in the mornings! I hurried to the basement to get the cash drawer, then froze at the bottom of the stairs. There was Mark, naked and chained by his neck to an overhead pipe. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. "You okay, Mark?" Mark just stared at me, wide-eyed, blushing. "I dropped the key, Mister Lufwin!" he squeaked. I sighed, walked over to him and started searching the floor. The key was half-way between his feet and an impressive wet spot. "You did a pretty good job on yourself," I chuckled. "I was just--it was an experiment, sort of, Mister Lufwin, honest." "Nothing to worry about, Mark. Hold still." I picked up the key, held it in front of him. "This isn't your first time, is it?" "No, Sir." He actually went scarlet. "It's time to open up," I chuckled, as I unlocked his neck. I studied him for a minute while he dressed. I sighed. "I was a kid once, you know. My first master caught me in the garden shed, butt naked, with my ankles hanging from a hook. His name was Keith, and the Master who trained him was Marcus, and..."