Date: Mon, 20 Apr 2020 16:28:24 +0000 From: A Porter Subject: Rods Of Redemption - Part 7 This story is a work of fiction. If material describing sex between men and teenage boys is illegal in your country, then read no further. Nifty is a free resource, but it does require money to stay on the Internet. Therefore, please consider donating to Nifty at: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html Gay / adult-youth / interracial: oral anal, M+/t+ - - - I woke with a shuddering start. The dream had been so vivid, and so perverse. I sat up and looked around my bedroom in panic, but thankfully there was no sign of Gordon or Rinka. My cock was rock-hard and demanding attention, but that was quite normal after one of my kinky dreams. I threw back the bed-covers and took care of my throbbing cock. The evening before, Derren and Julian had filled my head with stories of what Gordon liked to do to boys on his estate. So, adding in my own experience of Gordon on the track-down, I went to bed believing every story. I even bought into Gordon's liking for K9 sex - Julian had supported that particular story with a dog-eared photograph of a man being fucked by a Great Dane. The kinky images in my head that morning made me late for breakfast, but that was also quite normal after one of my dreams. - - - After breakfast, I stepped outside to get a breath of fresh air. I was still on light duties, so the other boys were hard at work inside, servicing the old sinners. With everyone inside, I decided to take a look at the cars parked on the driveway. It was whilst looking around a Silver Wraith that my jaw dropped and I became rooted to the spot. The reflection of a horse-box appeared in the car's offside wing mirror. I remained stock-still as the vehicle drew up outside the main entrance. "Nice looking arse, son," said the driver, as he opened the door and got out. "I have a delivery. Is Bishop Ferrari around to take possession?" I gulped and slowly stood up straight. "He's inside," I said, as I turned to face the horse-box. "I can go in and get him." "If you don't mind," said the driver. "I'll open the back and..." "Greetings, Glen-boy," interrupted Alfredo, as he suddenly appeared at the front door. "Do they come with tools?" "Yes, sir," replied Glen-boy. "Each one comes complete with a pick or shovel, and there's a box of tools in the back as well. They all know what to do .... They've put up chain link fencing before." The four naked men shuffled out of the modified horse-box. They all looked fit and muscular, and were well tanned. I looked them up and down as Glen-boy handed out the picks and shovels. "I'll get Léon to show them where to begin," said Alfredo. "Do we need to take any..." "No," interrupted Glen-boy. "They're all broken in, so they won't give you any trouble. In fact, this lot have paid to serve on the estate throughout the entire summer. That's why they're not chained together." I became very excited as I looked at the men and their powerful, suntanned buttocks. My cock began to twitch as they shouldered their digging tools and lined up. All four were tall and muscular, so I was a little confused when Glen-boy addressed them as "Runt" this and "Runt" that. Later, when I got to know the men a bit better, I discovered that Runt Kilo was a millionaire's son with oodles of free time on his hands. His keen interest in bondage and submissive sex had helped him recruit Runt Echo, Runt Lima and Runt Romeo. The four men were all in their late twenties and totally submissive. Léon ordered Runt Echo and Runt Kilo to pick the heavy toolbox up and follow him and the two other slaves. All five men moved off towards the north-west. I looked at Alfredo and received a quick nod of the head in return. "And don't you go helping them," said Alfredo, as I fell in behind Runt Kilo. "Let them do all the work. You just stand around and look pretty." I smiled at Alfredo and waved. I then focused on Kilo's muscular back and powerful buttocks. "How many cocks have fucked that submissive hole?" I thought, as I began to play with my rigid cock. "I bet it's taken quite a hammering over the years." Our walk to the parameter took an age to complete. Léon insisted that we stick to the grass paths - we were all barefooted, so he didn't want any accidents to occur on the way. The four men were used to working on the estate in the nude and barefooted, so they didn't care one way or the other. Only I had a few problems with stones underfoot. "The rolls of chain link fencing and metal poles are stacked over there, at the beginning of the first two-hundred-yard run," said Léon to the runts. "You then plant a hedge of Pyracantha in front of it, before moving on to the next two-hundred-yard run." The runts were clearly unimpressed by the small stack of chain link fencing. "Don't worry," continued Léon. "There's more fencing on the way, so you've got weeks of work ahead of you." - - - After three or four hours, I grew tired of watching the men working on the new fence line. I was still enthralled by their flaccid cocks and tanned arse-cheeks, but with Léon keeping watch, I knew there was no chance of being fucked by any of them. "Don't go wandering off, Gavin," said Léon, as he handed Runt Echo a spirit level. "That dense woodland can be treacherous underfoot." I nodded my head in acknowledgement and leaned back against a tree. It was then that a hand touched my left thigh. I gulped as another hand, this time on my right, took hold of my flaccid cock. I stood stock-still against the tree as the two hands squeezed and stroked my naked body. "What's going on?" I whispered. "Just relax and you'll soon find out," came the reply. "Now look straight ahead and keep quiet. We don't want your friends getting involved, especially the black fella. He'll chase us off and you'll lose out." I gulped again as my cock became fully erect. The two men were kneeling down and concealed behind the tree, in the bushes. They were keen to make friends, and had really soft hands. Léon and the runts were far too busy to notice that I was being touched up by a couple of birdwatchers. The two men were eager to finger-fuck my mouth, tweak my nipples, and play with my cock and ball-sac. I was then asked to step to my left, so that my arsehole could be finger-fucked. "Now bend forward, boy," whispered the man on my left. "No, stay put," said the man on my right. "The black fella is looking this way." I waved to Léon and smiled, and then tried to look all nonchalant. "Stay close, Gavin," said Léon. "We'll be moving on soon." I acknowledged his words with a nod of my head. I then waited for him to look away, before spreading my legs and bending forward. "Hold onto your knees, boy," whispered the man on my left, "and keep your head and shoulders down." The rimming that followed was absolutely mind-blowing. The men took it in turns to spread my arse-cheeks and lick me into shape. Their tongues just wiped me out completely. "Gavin! Where the fuck is he?" snapped Léon. "I told him not to wander off." "I'm here!" I shouted, as I fell forward and then quickly sprang to my feet. "I stepped on a sharp stone and my ankle gave way. It bloody hurts!" The two birdwatchers disappeared into the undergrowth when Léon came over to carry me back to the fence line. Unfortunately, they didn't reappear when the work resumed some ten minutes later. "Stay on the other side of the fence line, boy," said Léon. "And keep well away from stony ground. Is that clear?" I nodded my head, and then pretended to hobble away. "You can't fool me, boy," whispered Runt Kilo, as I hobbled past him. "I saw you standing against that tree, with a big grin on your face. You sure looked good being touched up in all the right places." "There were two of 'em hiding behind that tree," I whispered. "Their hands were everywhere." "And you were loving every minute of it," whispered Runt Kilo. "Stop talking to the help, boy!" snapped Léon. "And do keep out of their way." - - - I was taken off light duties and handed over to a Mr. Booth the next day. He took me up to his room and tied me to the bed. I lay face up and spread-eagle, with no idea what the man was planning to do to me. "Don't look so anxious, boy," he said, as he tweaked my left nipple. "You look real pretty in those rope restraints. So let's get down to business and have some fun." Graham was in his late fifties or early sixties. He had a good-looking body, with very little body hair. His cock was uncut and some six- to seven-inches long, when fully erect. The man was a randy old sod, with long, bony fingers. "Now just relax, boy," he said, as he ran his fingers up and down my naked body. The old man's fingers made me laugh and snort as they tickled my upper body. My armpits and ribs came in for some extra special attention. I thrashed around in my bonds as the man tickled me relentlessly. Then, he glanced down at my rigid cock and smiled. His right hand moved down to my erection and gently squeezed it. I nearly exploded with joy. My whole body shook as my laughter suddenly turned to moans and groans of pleasure. It was then that I climaxed and sent spunk flying through the air in all directions. "Good boy," said Graham, as he tweaked my nipples. "Now lie back and relax. I'll go fetch a flannel to wipe you down and get you nice and clean." After the clean up, Graham took hold of my cock and began stroking it gently. He certainly knew how to rekindle the passion within a young boy's loins. My cock was rock-hard when it slowly disappeared into his mouth. My second climax was just as powerful as the first. I just couldn't believe how great it felt. "What a superb taste!" he exclaimed, as he dabbed his spunk-covered lips with the flannel. "Now let's see if the soles of your feet are ticklish!" Brushes, feathers and fingers kept me bouncing around in my bonds for ages. I pulled hard against my rope restraints, but they just wouldn't budge. My outbursts of laughter soon turned to screams of agony when the old man ignored my requests for mercy. I begged him to stop tickling me, but he just smiled and continued to torment my feet. I lay on the double bed and cursed my luck. I really hated Graham at that point. My calf muscles and thighs were rigid and taut, and aching like billy-o. The man was torturing my feet with feathers; not red-hot coals, but feathers!!!