Small Town Slave Boys
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This story is a reboot of the original Small Town Slave Boy story.
This story will be found in the gay/authoritarian subcategory. It's tangentially connected to the College Magic Series, but there are no supernatural elements.
Dylan Morgan is the son of a homophobic minister named Craig Morgan. He was one of four children in the Morgan household, not including their cousin Kieran who came to stay with the family when he lost his parents at the age of 12. This story tells of his life and how he became a slave to his best friend Kurt Groth.
The plural Boys refers to the fact that Dylan's uncle Cory is also slave to Kurt's father Roger.
This story is mostly told from Dylan's point of view, but occasionally the point of view shifts to another character. The text will always tell you when there has been a shift in POV.
There will be scenes of dominance and submission, as well as some bondage and domination, and a little light masochism, but this is not a story of objectification, and it's not a one-sided story. It's a love story with D/s and BDSM elements.
There will be some non-consensual scenes in later chapters, non-consensual in the sense that the main characters will choose to engage in some activities to avoid being outed too early, but the activities between the principal characters are consensual.
For those who appreciate this kind of story read on; others be forewarned.
This story is fantasy. In the real-world consent is not only important, but also sexy.
Please remember that NIFTY is a free site that provides an invaluable resource for men like us. Please consider donating to help ensure that site remains available for everyone. https://donate.nifty.org/
You can contact me at pseudonominius@gmail.com.
Author's Notes
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I have created a google group for people who want to get more information
about my stories in that format. Only I can view the member list, so
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answer to that group after removing any information about the reader. It's a
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●
While this storyline
is designed to stand alone, you may have a better idea about some of the
background if you read My Roommate the
Alchemist and Alchemy and Songcraft,
since Kieran Morgan is a character in both story lines. This story stands
alone, however. When these characters interact with the characters in College
Magic, the entire scene pertaining to this story will be included here.
●
I hope my revision
process has gotten better and there are fewer errors in this chapter. I am my
own editor and sometimes I don't catch typos, missing word, and misattribution
errors. I apologize if any are still slipping through.
Links to My Stories
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My Roommate the Alchemist
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Wishcraft
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Alchemy and Songcraft
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Magery
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Elf Master
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The Pack
Other Stories
Small Town Slave Boys
(How can things get worse than this?)
Dylan
Friday had marked the end of an awesome first week of school. Kurt had found a way to fuck me everyday at school and the fact that we could be caught had made it seem even more thrilling for both of us. On some level, I wished we would get caught. I had this fantasy that everything would be okay once it was in the open. Maybe Dad would throw me out of the house, and I'd have to live with the Groths. But I knew that was just a fantasy. He'd send me to that conversion camp his church was affiliated with, and I'd never see Kurt again.
I'd stopped eating lunch at school since I went to Groth automotive
He looked over at me and said, "How was your day, slave boy?"
When Steven called me `slave boy', he made it sound like a joke. That annoyed me because I didn't think of it as a joke. I'd given myself to Kurt and as far as I was concerned he owned me. For real. It wasn't a game.
"It was good, sir," I replied. "The athletes are still looking out for me. It's so different from the last three years."
"I'm sorry. I should have stepped in and stopped it before. I assumed that Kurt had it taken care of," he said.
We sat in silence for a while, but then Steven said, "That was just bullshit. The truth is that I was waiting for you to toughen up and take care of it on your own. When you didn't I looked down on you and just thought to myself that you deserved what was coming your way. I was young and I didn't know half as much as I thought I did. I didn't understand who you were."
"Who was I, sir?" I asked, my curiosity piqued. Steven had always been brutally honest with me.
"You're weak," he said. "Hear me out. I don't mean that in a bad way. I guess soft would be a better word. You're small and I think your refusal to stand up for yourself is just a part of who you are. You needed me or Kurt or someone else to do it for you."
"I've always been small. I learned that standing up to bullies was the fastest way to get beaten even worse. Donnie, even Tommy took their turns. I didn't complain to Kurt because that only made it worse. Kurt would make them back off, but whenever he wasn't around they came back," I replied.
"But it's different now?" Steven asked.
I nodded and said, "Yes it is. I think it's because Kurt isn't afraid of people finding out about him and me anymore and because Greg and Damian are backing him up."
"Probably true," Steven acknowledged, "but it would have been better back then if I'd gotten involved. I was already a star on the swim and dive teams, and Kurt was just a beginner on the football team. So, I'm sorry that I didn't help you back then. If anything happens now, you let me know. I had Damian spread it around that you were like an honorary little brother to me. I'll take care of it."
I couldn't help but laugh as I said, "You're nineteen now, Steven. You can't go around beating up on high school students."
He shrugged and smiled at me. "You're right, but I can beat the crap out of their older brothers, or their dads."
I started laughing even louder and Steven joined me. I had no idea whether he was serious or not. He had a way of making his jokes seem real.
He pulled in front of the office at the auto dealership and said, "I'll find some way to make it work. Trust me."
Life at the dealership was going well. I mostly answered phones and filed paperwork. For an hour one day Cory watched me enter appointments for service into the calendar, but someone else usually did that job. I was going through business mail and scanning hard copy letters so they could be filed electronically. It was a little tedious, but I didn't mind.
I'd shown up to work in jeans and a polo shirt on Monday and Tuesday, but Cory had taken me shopping for some business clothes Tuesday after work and from then on I changed in Mr. Groth's office bathroom before work. Today, I was wearing light gray slacks, a pale pink shirt and a tie with a mottled pattern of darker gray and pink.
A can of watermelon flavored carbonated water appeared on the counter next to the pile of papers I was scanning. At the same time, a deep voice said, "Good afternoon, Dylan."
It was Fred Nelson, one of the sales associates. He was standing close behind me so that when I turned around he was only a few inches away. He was average in height, which meant that he was about half a foot taller than me. He was handsome enough, but not like Mr. Groth or his sons. His skin was light, but darker than mine, and his hair was a very light brown. He was standing close enough that I could see the fine hairs inside his nostrils.
"Um, hi, Mr. Nelson," I replied nervously.
He moved closer and said, "You can call me Fred. You're only ten years younger than me, although I thought you were a freshman when you first started working here. You turn 18 in December."
I swallowed and said, "Thank you for the water. It's my favorite flavor."
"I know," he replied. "I've been watching you and that's all you ever drink. That and the smoothie you mix up every day right after you get here. Don't tell me that a slender little guy like you is dieting."
I would have moved away from him, but his right hand was on the counter and his left was on the copier. He wasn't touching me, but his arms were encircling me like a fence. I tried to keep my eyes on his chest. I stared at the tiny mustard stain on his tie, but my glance slid down to see the faint impression of a sizable penis running down his left leg.
I jerked my eyes back up to look at his face. He was smiling as he moved an inch closer to me.
"I'm not dieting, sir. I just don't have much time to eat," I said.
"Did you see something you like?" he asked. "I know it's still early, but I was thinking about getting you something big for your 18th birthday."
"I ... I have a ... I'm with someone," I said.
"You have a girlfriend?" he asked with a smirk.
"No ... I mean ... um ...," I stammered.
He laughed and put a hand on my shoulder.
"It's okay," he said. "You don't have to say anything. Of course, you're taken. If things don't work out, let me know. And don't let the age difference bother you."
He leaned in and whispered in my ear, "Age is just a number that the government keeps track off."
He winked, patted my shoulder, and sighed. Then he smiled at me and walked away.
Cory came over and said, "Did Fred make you uncomfortable just now?"
"No," I said. "I mean he kind of did, but he backed off when I told him I was with someone. But I think he's figured out that I'm gay."
Cory laughed gently and said, "That's not a secret honey. No one with even half-functional gaydar can look at you and not figure out that you're gay. But you don't need to worry about it. This is a gay friendly place."
"Is everyone here gay?" I asked.
"No. That would be a lot of gay in one business in this small town of ours," he replied. "But Fred is gay. Mr. Groth is gay. I'm gay. You're gay. Delores in accounting is gay. Jay over there talking with a customer has a gay son. Dave, the beardy guy who runs the service department has a gay daughter. Bill, the other sales guy over there heading out to the lot, has a gay twin. And Barb, the woman in charge of the office, she's bisexual. She used to be married to a man and had three kids with him, but she's living with a woman now. Everyone else knows that this is a tolerant workplace even if they don't know all the facts I just gave you.
Barb came over and put one tattooed arm around Cory's neck and said, "It's almost 3:00 PM, sugar. I'm sure Dylan can finish this up without you."
She gave me a look and whispered, "The boss always needs a little stress relief at 3:00 and Cory is the only one who can give it to him."
I couldn't help but blush. She was talking about my uncle and about Mr. Groth who was more like a dad to me than my own dad was. I wondered if the two of them knew that the office staff had figured out about their afternoon "meetings".
"I'm sorry. I just let my mouth run away with me sometimes. Is Cory your dad, or is he your older brother? He looks young to be your dad, but you look young too," she said.
"Cory's my uncle," I said. "He's only twelve years older than me."
"Well, you two are like peas in a pod," she said. "Blond, cute and, well, all that other stuff."
She smiled and patted my arm. "You need to get yourself someone to look after you, you know," she said. "Fred seems to be interested. He's older than you, but the difference is only about the same as between the boss and your uncle."
I turned an even darker pink as I whispered, "I have someone already."
She sighed and said, "Well I'll have to keep looking for someone good enough for Fred. He's a good boy, but I shouldn't have been trying to set him up with guys his age, I should have been looking for boys like you. Just so you know, he's a good guy, and he would be good for you if this other guy doesn't work out."
There was no way she could know that the "other guy" was the boss's son and there was no chance this wasn't going to work out because I was going to do anything necessary to make it work. Whatever Kurt wanted I would do it. There was no price too high. He was everything to me.
I finished the scanning and then I sat down at a computer and filed them away in the appropriate folders. I was still working when Cory came to fetch me. I always rode home with him and Mr. Groth.
Friday night was excellent. I didn't have a lot of homework, and that was good because Steven had already left for Indianapolis and Kurt was helping me to finish. I was spending the night tomorrow, I knew that Dad wouldn't let me stay on Friday as well, so I didn't ask. He always seemed nervous when I spent the night here.
After dinner we had only an hour before I had to go back home, so Kurt took me to his bedroom for a quick fuck.
"I'll have to go over your weekly infractions and give you your spanking tomorrow morning," he said, "and Greg is coming over after dinner to spend the night."
I knew that Kurt was going to let Greg fuck me. I agreed to it, but only because he insisted that I make the decision. If I'd had my way, he would have just told me to do it, and I would obey. Did I really count as Kurt's slave if I had to train him?
We didn't have time for a long production. I'd cleaned out my boy hole as soon as I got there, so I was ready to go. Kurt threw me down on his bed. (He'd replaced his twin bed with a full size, so we'd have more room when I stayed over.) I'd changed out of my work clothes as soon as I arrived, so Kurt was able to pull my shorts off in one smooth motion. Then he pulled my shirt off and tossed it aside, leaving me naked except for my blue jock.
Kurt stripped naked. His brown skin and broad muscles sent a thrill running up my spine, but that was nothing compared to the moment when he stripped off his own underwear and that enormous cock of his sprang forth. More than ten inches long and almost three inches thick, it jutted forward at nearly a ninety-degree angle. Kurt flexed his abs and his cock bounced. He grinned at the way my eyes followed its motion.
I flung myself to the floor and pressed my lips to his feet. "Please, Master," I begged. "May I suck your magnificent cock?"
"Stand up, slave boy," he said in a calm but firm tone.
With a "yes master!" I rose to my feet but kept my eyes downcast in proper submission. Kurt bent over and picked me up at the waist, turning me so that I was upside down.
"Now suck my cock, slave boy," he commanded.
"Yes Master," I replied and then I took his cock in my mouth.
I'd gotten to the point where I could swallow the head easily. It got harder the more I tried to take down my throat.
This position was a new one. Kurt's powerful arms were wrapped snug around my skinny waist. I weighed a little less than 120 pounds, and that was nothing to him. My nose was buried in his wiry pubic hair, and he was licking my crack with his powerful tongue.
I wrapped one arm around Kurt's muscular thigh and used the other to help guide his cock into my mouth. I opened wide and took him halfway down. I'd gotten a lot better at suppressing my gag reflex and I was getting proud of my improving skill.
I was trying to concentrate on Kurt's cock, the fullness of it in my mouth, the taste of it, the masculine smell filling my nostrils, the whole experience. But the feeling of Kurt's tongue working its way inside my ass was distracting me.
He pulled his mouth away and said, "Your slave hole knows the touch of its master. It's opening for me like it wants something. Does your slave hole want something, slave boy?"
"Yes Master!" I cried.
"What does your little hole want, slave boy?" he asked.
He let his tongue tease my ass lips again and a shiver ran down my spine.
"My slave hole want's its master's massive cock inside it, Master," I replied with a whine.
Kurt shifted me up higher, so that my waist was at his shoulder. Then he lifted me and turned me around so that I was upright. He crushed my lips with his own and squeezed me tight. Then he used his hands to pull my cheeks apart as he lowered me toward his groin. I kept one hand around his neck and used the other to hold his cock upright.
Without leverage, it was too hard for him to get inside me, so he dropped me on my back on the bed and grabbed the lube. He had an apologetic look on his face, so I put my hand on his arm, and said, "You're so big that it's hard to get inside me, Master, but once you fill me, it feels so good. All day long, I walk around feeling empty because I'm incomplete without you inside me."
Kurt slathered his cock with lube and then quickly rubbed some inside me. We were running out of time, and he had to go a little faster. He grabbed my ankles and pressed the blunt head of his cock against my hole. He pressed until he slipped inside and then rammed his way inside to the root.
"Yes, Master! Yes!" I cried out, my voice shrill from a combination of pain and intense pleasure.
"I didn't hurt you too bad, did I?" Kurt asked solicitously.
"It hurt like a fist ramming inside me, Master, but it felt good. I love it!" I said.
And I wasn't lying. I did love it when Kurt hurt me a little. I knew that it made me weird, but the pain went straight to my cock and spilled a little cum from the sensation.
Kurt picked me up again while I was impaled on his cock, and he started lifting me up and then slamming me down again. The fact that he could lift me, carry me, and toss me around like he did was almost enough to send me over the edge myself.
Kurt thrust particularly hard, making my eyes fly open wide. I grunted, and maybe drooled a little.
"Are you sure I'm not too rough," he asked between his own grunts.
"Yes Master!" I replied. "You couldn't get too rough for me. I like it when you're rough."
With a smile, Kurt picked up the pace and started fucking me harder. It didn't take long. He was turning my insides into jelly, punching through my inner sphincter with each thrust. I started to cry out, making those high-pitched grunts meant I was about to cum. Kurt kept one hand under my butt and then used his other hand to grab my balls through the pouch on my jock and squeeze them. He'd done it before, but this time he used a lot more force.
Most guys would lose their erections if their nuts were being crushed, but I wasn't like other guys. The painful sensation went straight to my cock, and I exploded inside the pouch of my jock. My orgasm was so intense that I almost let go of Kurt's broad shoulders. He moved the hand that had been around my nuts to my back and held me tight until I stopped convulsing. And somehow he managed to save me, to support me and keep me from falling, all while he was filling me with his seed.
I relaxed and leaned against Kurt's chest. He sat down on the bed and held me tight, kissing my neck and rubbing my back.
"You caught me, Master," I mumbled.
Kurt turned my chin so he could look into my eyes and said, "I'll always catch you, slave boy."
We sat there, Kurt's cock still buried inside me until Mr. Groth pounded on the door and said, "Kurt, you need to get Dylan out to that car in the next five minutes and drive him home – and you'd better drive safely."
Kurt knew better than to argue with his dad, so he pulled me off him with an audible plop. He wiped the excess cum and lube from my butt with an old hand towel he kept in the room for that purpose. Then we got dressed quickly and ran out to the car.
"Why doesn't your dad ever blame me when we're not following the rules?" I asked as Kurt started the car.
"Dad says that you're my slave so I'm responsible for your behavior. If I can't control you, it's my fault," he said.
I replied, "That doesn't seem very fair to me."
Kurt laughed and said, "If you think being my slave is hard, you should hear the long list of duties and responsibilities that come with being your master. Dad made it painfully clear that he's not expecting anything from me that he doesn't expect from himself. He also told me that I can't shirk your discipline. Then he gave me a monster of a paddle that I am definitely going to show you tomorrow. Expect me to punish you often and to punish you hard."
"I can't wait, Master," I said with a grin.
"And Dad said that punishment spankings need to be severe enough that you don't enjoy them, and he said that I shouldn't fuck you when you're bad. And if I have you suck my dick, I shouldn't let you swallow it. He says that punishment shouldn't be fun for you," he said.
"But I love it when you spank me, Master," I insisted.
Kurt nodded and said, "Dad says that spanking for fun is one thing and spanking for punishment is another, and that I must keep them straight. He also said that he knew what he was talking about because – get this – your uncle is exactly the same."
We exchanged a look and then started laughing at the thought of Mr. Groth spanking my uncle until he cried.
We joked around until Kurt pulled up in front of my house and I got out. We couldn't even risk a quick kiss goodbye, Kurt gave me a backhanded slap on my nuts instead, saying, "Good night, slave boy. Sleep tight."
Steven
I stopped by Damian's house at 4:00 PM. That gave him just enough time to drive home and grab his bags before I got there. Mr. Wilder was there when I pulled up. He was a lot older than my dad, since Damian was the youngest of seven kids. He was in his late fifties and his hair was mostly gray. He was built like a linebacker who'd gone soft in old age. He was about eight inches shorter than me (a couple inches shorter than Damian), so he thought it was hilarious to call me shorty.
"Bend down here, Shorty, so I can give you a hug," he demanded.
When I did, he forced a thick envelope into my hands, and said, "Don't argue. You're taking care of my boy this weekend, so I want to help."
"Thank you," I said, knowing I would insult him if I refused his money.
Damian was coming down the stairs with his bags and his dad gave me a wink and then turned towards him to say, "You be good and obey Steven this weekend. He has my permission to give you an old-fashioned belting if you don't do what you're told."
Damian blushed a deep red and said, "I'll be good, Dad. I'll try not to give Steven a reason to beat me."
"Hah! You're a good boy, Damian," Mr. Wilder said. "Have fun and try to be home at a reasonable time on Monday."
"I'll take good care of your boy, Mr. Wilder," I said.
We put Damian's stuff in the car with mine and then climbed into the front seat. I started the car and backed out of the driveway. Once we were on the road, I asked Damian, "So are you going to be a good boy? Or do I have to spank you?"
Damian shrugged and gave me that boyish smile of his. "I don't know, sir. I may like a good old-fashioned spanking."
"I believe your dad said `a good old-fashioned belting'," I replied. "And that may be a little more painful than my hand on your butt."
"I'm just an innocent boy. I don't know what I'll like until you do it, sir," he said with false naiveté.
"I don't know how innocent you are. Your dad is paying me to fuck you," I said, tossing him the envelope.
Damian thumbed through the contents and said, "I think this makes you the whore, not me. Dad's paying you $200 and two tickets to the Race to fuck me. He must think I can't attract someone on my own."
We continued to banter back and forth for a while until we hit the freeway. Then I decided to bring the conversation around to something more serious.
"So, we're boyfriends now, but I don't know what you want out of our relationship. What do you want?" I asked.
Damian shrugged. "Maybe something like what Kurt and Dylan have?" he asked quizzically.
I gave him a look and half smile. "Are you saying you want to be my slave?" I asked.
"No. Maybe. I don't know until we try it. Can we try it just for one day?" he asked.
I shrugged and said, "Sure. Tonight, we'll go to a party at Jordan's house. Tomorrow morning, if you want it, we'll try out the slave thing. You're going to have to give me the okay to continue every few hours, and you must promise me that you won't continue unless you're really into it. But then Sunday and Monday we go back to normal."
"Yes, sir," he said. "That sounds good to me."
Jordan had been two years ahead of me in high school and we'd been on the swim team together. He was a student at IUPUI in Indianapolis and we'd kept in touch. I'd been out to him since that day as a sophomore when I'd lost my virginity to a college student during a meet. He was bisexual. Last I heard, he was in a loose relationship with a girl right now. When he found out we were coming, he'd invited us to a party tonight.
I wasn't into the whole slavery thing. That was my dad and his mini-me, Kurt. I was really a vanilla sort of guy compared to my dad and my brother, but the thing that scared me about it was how hard my cock got last time Damian was playing at being a slave, the night before we were caught by Greg lying in a great gay pile in the living room.
It was almost three hours to Indianapolis, so we had plenty of time. We talked. We listened to music and totally gayed out. Damian could sing almost all the lyrics to every Greyson Chance song ever recorded. And when he broke into "Nobody" he had a whole car dance to go with it.
"But goddamn, I could use a little
company
Your hands, like the way
they feel all over me
Quicksand, pull me under, I
don't need to breathe
Every night, you get it
right
Nobody know my body like you
Hey now, nobody know my body like you"
His hands slid down his abdomen toward his groin and then around behind him to cup his butt and I was getting harder by the second.
Damian wasn't pretty like Dylan. He was boyishly handsome, from his curly hair that was just the right color that I didn't really know whether to call it blond or brown, to his snub nose, his full kissable lips (well they were full for a white boy) and that dimple in his chin that made me want to eat his face.
We checked into the hotel and then quickly got ready to run out to the party. Damian took his time in the bathroom. I would have joined him, but I was hungry, and I knew that a shared shower would turn into a lengthy fuck session. Once he was done, I jumped in and got ready.
When I got back into the room, Damian had gotten dressed in low rise white jeans and a turquoise shirt he wore unbuttoned to the third button over a rainbow flag tee shirt. He'd put on a bead necklace and several beaded bracelets. He was fastening a pair of light gray shoes that looked comfortable for dancing on his feet.
He stood up and asked, "What do you think? You said I could be true to my inner gay on this trip."
I grabbed him and kissed him hard, thrusting my tongue into his mouth as I reached around and grabbed his firm swimmer's ass.
"You're sexy as hell. That's what I think," I said. "And I can't wait until everyone sees you on my arm tonight. But I'm going to be much less colorful than you, I'm afraid."
It was true. Most of my clothes were basic black. It was classic for a reason. I pulled out my black jeans, but Damian held a new shirt out for me. It was a dashiki, black with an elaborate pattern on metallic gold.
"Thank you," I said, taking it from his hands. "It's stylish but not too bright for my tastes."
"When we were browsing online, I saw you looking at these and I took the opportunity to snoop through your closet last time I was at your place. Do you like it?" he asked.
I kissed him again and said, "Of course I do."
Damian always had this look in eyes when we were alone. It was a look of complete adoration. In some ways, it reminded me of the way Dylan looked at Kurt. I got dressed as quickly as I could so we could go out. There wasn't a lot for guys under 21 to do in Indianapolis. All the dance clubs were limited to those who were of legal age to drink, so I was glad that Jordan was in town and was having a party tonight.
Jordan lived near campus in an older house that he shared with three other students. Sylvia and Silas Palmer were fraternal twins whose grandmother owned the house. The other roommate was Tamara Nichols. Sylvia was tall, almost as tall as Damian, with long auburn hair and green eyes. Silas was taller than Damian but shorter than me, with golden brown hair and dark blue eyes. Both the twins had athletic builds. I'd seen on their social media that they were both tennis players. Tamara was much shorter. She was of average height for a woman, which meant that was short compared to all her roommates. She had dark brown skin and black hair she wore in cornrows. She looked less athletic, but she was very pretty, with full lips and big expressive eyes. And then there was Jordan. He was a couple of inches shorter than average, with an olive skin tone, brown hair, brown eyes, and a smoking hot body that he'd honed from years of swimming.
The party was in full swing when we arrived. Music was blasting from the stereo and people were dancing in the living room and the dining room. Counting Damian and myself there were about a dozen people present.
"Welcome to the party, Stevie," Jordan said. "And this must be little Damian."
He bestowed a bro-hug on Damian and added, "Damn boy! You grew up fine. Last time I saw you, you were a scrawny freshman. I wish I'd have known you were gay back in high school. I would have been all over you."
"Um ... I always thought you were kind of hot too," Damian replied with a smile.
Jordan laughed and said, "Right. You pretty boys all hang together. That's why you're on Stevie's arm. I'll bet there are plenty of unattractive but nice closeted boys you could've hooked up with, but you bagged this guy. With those cheekbones, he could have been a model. And light skinned black guys are always in demand. Almost as much as blond boys with dimples. Damn!"
He was a little drunk already. He pulled us deeper into the house and made introductions. Sylvia was a kisser and a hugger, and if I were attracted to girls, I would have really appreciated the way she pressed against me.
Jordan laughed and pulled her off me and shoved Silas against me. He said, "You're barking up the wrong tree there Sylvia. Silas is more his type."
It was true that Silas's hard body felt good pressed against me. He didn't try to kiss me, but he leaned in and said, "Glad to meet you, Stevie. Jordan talks about you all the time, and I can see that he didn't exaggerate."
Damian seemed to be more uncomfortable in Sylvia's embrace than I had been. At first I thought that she was drunk, but then I noticed her clear eyes and the slight smile that played at the corner of her lips. She was just having fun. If she was Jordan's girlfriend, she must be intrigued by gay guys. Jordan was nuzzling Silas's neck while we spoke.
"If you boys are going to drink, you'll have to crash on the couches here until morning," Sylvia said.
Jordan interrupted her and said, "Stevie is too good a boy to drink before he turns 21 and I doubt he'll let his pretty boyfriend drink either."
"He's right," I said, hugging Damian tight against me and kissing the top of his head.
Tamara shook both our hands. She wasn't drunk, but she seemed naturally friendly. She led us into the kitchen and showed us the table laden with a couple of three-foot subs, bowls of chips, dip, salsa, and other snack foods.
"Jordan gets drunk early whenever we have a party, so don't pay him no mind," she said. "He's been talking you up since you said you were coming. You know he's going to try and get you to transfer to IUPUI while you're here."
"Damian and I have talked about college," I replied. "If he decides to go here, I will too. But I'll have to pick a major. Dad refuses to pay the price for a university degree unless I have a plan."
"Do you have a plan," she asked.
I shrugged. I was still indecisive. Dad seemed to want me to get a business degree to help run the auto business, but that was his and Kurt's thing. I wasn't interested in business. If anything, I was interested in ...
"Photography," Damian said. "Steve is a brilliant and talented photographer."
He looked at me and said, "You should do it. I can get a business degree that focuses on NGOs and nonprofits here and you can get a photography degree. And you already know some students here."
"We'll talk later," I said.
He wasn't wrong and it was tempting. I just didn't want to commit to an art degree because I didn't want to disappoint my dad. He'd done so much for me over the years. He was a single dad for most of my life, and a business owner, yet he'd always had time for me.
Damian and I stood in the kitchen to eat and then I pulled him out into the dining room so we could dance. We weren't the only same sex couple dancing, but there were a lot of mixed sex couples as well. We pressed together on the floor, moving as one. I slid my hand along his firm butt and nibbled his neck. I had to be careful not to leave any marks to rouse suspicion when he got home.
Damian moaned and kissed my chest. He ran his hands over my body and then down to my groin. He pressed against my cock and rubbed it through my pants. I slid one hand down inside the waistband of his jeans and felt his butt. He was wearing one of those sexy mesh jockstraps I loved to see him in. I ran a finger along his crack. He'd come prepared. His tight hole was slippery with lube.
I rubbed the ring and then pressed inside him. His hole gripped my finger like it was sucking on it. His moans were driving me crazy, and my cock was trying to get hard but was constrained painfully by my pants. Damian's hand rubbing against it felt amazing and painful at the same time. On some level I was envious of small-dicked boys like Dylan. His little peg could stand up straight in his pants. Mine was forced to swell alongside my leg, unable to rise to a full erection.
I pulled my finger out of his ass and pulled his hand off my cock. I held him tight and then looked around the room frantically. I didn't see Jordan, but I did see the stairs leading up to the second floor. It was difficult to walk upright, but I led Damian upstairs. We picked one of the bedrooms and rushed inside.
Sylvia
I was dancing with Tamara when a notification went off on my phone. I walked off the dance floor and pulled it out. I knew everyone here at the party except for Jordan's friends, but I didn't trust people much. I'd put a silent alarm on our rooms just in case someone wanted to sneak in and steal something. I switched on the webcam. It was Stevie and Damian, but they weren't rummaging through Silas's drawers. They'd fallen on the bed and were making out.
Damian wasn't a small guy, but he seemed short next to Steve. With his short golden-brown hair and those dimples, he looked like the all-American boy. His skin was tanned, but he looked pale next to his boyfriend because Steve had light brown skin, dark enough that you knew he was black, but just. He had full lips and strong features that made me tingle a little inside.
I found a seat so I could watch the scene. I knew it sounded pervy and there was no denying that it was, at least a little bit. I had a weakness for gay porn. I should have gone up to the room and told them to knock it off. I could have turned the camera off. But I rationalized my decision to watch them because I didn't want to leave them alone in Silas's room. He had a lot of jewelry on his dresser.
Steve was undressing Damian slowly, pulling that bright blue shirt off and revealing the tight rainbow flag tee shirt beneath. I turned up the sound so I could hear them clearly on bluetooth. Damian was moaning as Steve nibbled his ears.
He said, "Damn that feels good, Steve. Your touch makes my whole body come alive."
Steve pulled Damian's tee shirt off, exposing his muscular but hairless chest. He had no hair in his armpits either. He must have really been into manscaping. God that turned me on.
Steve said, "And you taste so damned good. There's no part of you that isn't delicious."
He chewed on Damian's nipples while he fumbled around with his lover's belt. He must have been in a hurry to strip the boy naked. Steve pushed Damian back onto the bed and pulled his white jeans off, leaving him almost naked.
Damn! That boy was wearing the sexiest pair of mesh underwear I'd ever seen. They were very small, not much more than a waist band holding a light blue mesh pouch that barely contained his bulge.
"Fuck, dude! You've been driving me wild all night, with that outfit and knowing you were wearing this sexy jock under your pants. I almost shot a load on the dance floor when you touched me," Steve said.
"So, you like it when I look like a total gay boy?" Damian teased.
"Hell yes, I do," Steve responded. "You look good in anything, but the gayer you look, the more you look like you, if you know what I mean."
He dropped down to mouth Damian's erection through the pouch making him gasp, "Oh my God that feels good. I need you bad. Please. Don't stop."
Steve stood up and undid his own pants, revealing a much larger cock than his lover's. It must have been painful, trapped in his pants like that. It must have been seven and a half inches at least. Bigger than Jordan or Silas at least. He stripped off his shirt as well, revealing a powerful swimmer's body. Maybe it was because both guys were on the swim team, but Steve's body was just as hairless as Damian's.
Well, almost as hairless. When Steve pulled that sexy jock off Damian, I could see that he had removed his pubic hair, while Steven's was just neatly trimmed and clipped.
When Steve got close enough, Damian reached for his cock and pulled him close. "You and your brother are both so big. Is it because ... you know, because you're black?"
Steven slapped Damian playfully in the mouth and said, "Don't be racist, dude. My dad's cock is bigger than mine and he's as white as you are. We're big because we Groth men aren't built like you lesser mortals."
"Lesser mortals, huh?" Damian said with a grin. Then he shook his head and added, "Who am I kidding. I can't reasonably hold this thing in my hand and deny it. Take me roughly with your superior super-cock!"
"Where do you want it, sexy?" Steven asked, running one hand along Damian's lips and using the other to probe his butt.
"Oh decisions, decisions, decisions," Damian said. "Do I want to taste you or to feel you inside my jock pussy, pounding my gay spot until I scream? Do I want to cum from you fucking me, or from your expert cocksucking lips?"
"Damn boy, you're like Dylan, not capable of making decisions on your own. Do you need your man to make your decisions for you, boy?" Steven teased.
Damian's eyes widened and his nostrils flared. He was obviously excited. He nodded his head and said, "Yes sir. The decision is too hard for me. Tell me what to do, please."
Steve moved between Damian's legs and leaned over to kiss him. He said, "This is how it's going to go then. I am going to fuck the cum out of you and fill your sexy ass with so much of my seed that you leak and make your pants wet. Everyone will know that you've been fucked hard. And then you're going to taste both my cock and your ass at the same time."
Damian started moaning and his cock throbbed. Steven noticed it as easily as I did.
"And then I'm going to take my cocksucking lips and suck you clean," he said. "Does that suit you, boy?"
"Yes Sir!" Damian moaned.
Steve used his fingers to open Damian's ass while he kissed him roughly, crushing his lips with his own. Damn they were hot together. Jordan and Silas needed to see this video so they could take some tips. Damian was obviously smitten with his taller and more muscular lover, and Steve was so focused on pleasing Damian that he seemed almost unconcerned with his own pleasure.
Then Steve lined himself up and entered Damian gently. His powerful ass muscles moved seductively under his smooth brown skin as he thrust inside his boy. Damian was moaning and gasping. He wrapped his own muscular legs tightly around Steve's waist.
I thought those two boys were beautiful, coupling together there on Silas's bed. If I hadn't been in a roomful of people, I would have been masturbating. I was going to save this video for sure.
The guys were so excited that they didn't last long. Damian arched his back and moaned so loudly that I was surprised we couldn't hear it over the music, even through the door and down the stairs.
Damian threw his head back and yelled, "That's the spot, master! That, right there. Uhnnnnnn! I'm cumming! My God, I'm cumming!"
Then Steven cried, "You have the best goddamned ass in the whole fucking world, Damian. Take it! Take my seed inside you, like the sexy bitch you are!"
When they finished, they lay next to one another in a lazy sixty-nine and cleaned each other's cocks. When they finally got dressed and rejoined the party, they both looked satisfied but disheveled. I saw them go up to Jordan and admit what they'd done. They danced with us a little more and then said their goodbyes after promising to come back over on Sunday for dinner.
Dylan
Neither Mom nor Dad was downstairs when I got back home. I didn't even see Tommy, but I did see a pile of dishes in the kitchen sink and a mess on the table and the counters. I cleaned it up as fast as I could. At some point, Tommy had come downstairs. I noticed him leaning against the doorway when I was tying up the trash bag.
"Mom's drunk and Dad's already gone to bed, faggot, so it's just the two of us tonight," he said. "So, we're going to have some fun."
Whatever he had in mind wasn't going to be fun for me. I was sure of that much.
"Whatever," I said.
I knew I'd fucked up as soon as I saw Tommy moving toward me. I dropped the garbage bag and moved my hands to protect my face when I saw him raise a hand to slap me. But he saw an opening and went for it. He gave me a backhanded slap in the nuts that made me gasp and fall to my knees. Then he moved behind me. He put me in a headlock and covered my mouth so I could barely breathe.
"Don't take that disrespectful tone with me, bitch!" he whispered menacingly. "Now kiss my shoes to show me how sorry you are."
"I'm sorry, sir," I said as I kissed his dirty athletic shoes.
He didn't tell me to stop, so I continued kissing them for several minutes. Finally, he said, "You can get up now, but you still need to be punished for not paying me the respect I deserve. Take your clothes off."
I stared at him like I didn't understand what he'd said until he raised his hand as if to hit me again. I took my shirt and pants off. I'd taken to wearing long sleeved tees and jeans to hide my shaved arms and legs. I stood in the kitchen in only my underwear.
"What the fuck are you wearing, faggot?" Tommy demanded.
I'd forgotten that all my underwear consisted of sexy jocks and thongs, and tonight I was wearing a pink thong. I blushed and moved my hand in front of my dicklet, as if it made any difference with what I was wearing.
Tommy touched my smooth legs and shook his head. Then he slapped my hand away from my crotch.
"It doesn't even look like you have a dick under there," he sneered. "Pull your panties down and let me see your shaved dick."
I didn't have a choice. He'd beat the crap out of me if I refused and I was sure that Mom and Dad would find some way to blame me if they came down because of any noise and saw us. I pulled my thong down so that my dicklet was exposed. Of course, it was hard. It always got hard when I was humiliated. In fact, it was hard most of the time now that I wasn't allowed to masturbate. I came when Kurt fucked me, but since he didn't really touch my dick much, I never felt a full release. My body still thought it was missing out on orgasms.
"Jesus Fucking Christ that's a tiny little wiener you have, faggot," Tommy said. "How big is it?"
"I don't know, sir," I replied.
"Stay here and put your hands on your head," Tommy said.
He ran to the desk in the living room and came back with a ruler.
"Let's see how tiny this thing is," he said.
He held the ruler against me and then started laughing. "You are fully erect and it's still not even four inches. This isn't a dick. It's a clit, a little hairless faggot clit."
He tapped my dicklet a few times with the ruler and then acted like he was going to slap my balls with it. I flinched and he laughed again.
"Cover that thing up, faggot," he said. "I don't need to see it, even if it is so small I can barely notice it at all. From now on, if we're alone or if Mom and Dad are already in bed, I want you to be naked except for your little panties."
"Yes sir," I said, acknowledging his commands with no enthusiasm.
I had to take the trash out in my thong. I used the back door, so I didn't have to go more than a few feet past the gate. Tommy followed me, recording on his cellphone. I kept glancing around nervously, hoping no one was walking where they could see me. I dreaded the thought that I was going to get caught and my whole life would come crashing down on me.
When I got back inside the house, Tommy snapped his fingers and pointed to the ground in front of him. He turned off the video and then looked down at me. He didn't even try to disguise the look of smug superiority on his face.
"I'm going to be honest," he said. "I hate that my brother is a faggot, and that means that I hate you sometimes. But if I must have a faggot for a brother, I'm going to get something out of it. When I turn this camera back on, you're going to beg me to suck my dick and when you finally convince me that you want it bad enough, you're going to do it."
I shook my head, a wave of disgust flowing over my body. There was no way that I was going to suck my brother's dick. Not only was I grossed out by the whole incest thing, but Tommy never smelled that fresh. I wasn't even remotely attracted to him. I hated his orange hair and his freckles. I hated his too wide face, and I hated his thick body. Most of all I hated his cocky and smug attitude. I hated him.
"I'm not sucking your dick, Tommy. I am never going to suck your dick," I said.
Tommy bowled into me and sent me sprawling on the ground. He was on top of me, his forearm pressing against my throat. He balled up his fist and punched me hard right in the crotch. I choked and sputtered and tried to cry out, but I managed only a stifled scream. He punched me again and a wave of nausea swept over me, and I tried to pull my legs up so I could roll into a ball. He punched me a third time, searing pain shooting through me.
Then he leaned down. I could smell his breath. It smelt of whisky and stale pot smoke. He must have been snooping around in mom's sewing room for the first and he must have visited Donnie for the second.
"Open your mouth," he said menacingly.
Tears were welling up in my eyes. I wanted to throw him off me, but he outweighed me despite his younger age. I opened my mouth and he spit inside it.
"Swallow my spit," he demanded.
I stopped struggling. What was the use? I couldn't beat him. I couldn't resist him. If I tried, he'd beat on me some more and then make me obey him anyway. I swallowed. His saliva tasted worse than his breath smelled.
"The next words out of your mouth had better be, `Please let me suck your dick, Tommy'. If it's not, I'm going to punch you some more in your tiny little fag nuts."
He removed his forearm from my throat. I probably should have yelled for Mom and Dad, but I didn't.
I sobbed, "Please let me suck your dick, Tommy."
"Let me get this straight, Dylan. Are you telling me that you're a faggot and you want to suck my dick?" he asked.
"Yes, Tommy. I'm a faggot and I want to suck your dick," I said. I managed to get the words out with gagging.
"I'm just a kid and I've never had sex before. I'm not gay, but I'll let you suck my cock if you really want it, brother," Tommy said.
My younger brother was an excellent liar, and he was more manipulative than anyone I knew. Anyone who heard him would swear he was sincere.
"Yes Tommy. I really want to suck your cock," I said.
I wasn't stupid. I knew he was recording the audio of this conversation. I just didn't know what else to do.
Tommy stood up and unfastened his pants. Then he pulled down his boxers. Tommy was only fifteen going on sixteen, but he already had a powerful rectangular build. Calling him chubby wouldn't be inaccurate, so long as you remembered that he had powerful muscles under that layer of fat. He had a solid rectangular build like Grandpa Morgan. And his cock was bigger than mine. That didn't surprise me; I'd never seen a guy who didn't. But his was very big. It may have been smaller than Kurt's but it was bigger than Steven's.
"Look up at the camera while you suck my dick, faggot. I want to record the moment you take my load for the first time," he said.
I looked up at the camera and then leaned toward my brother's cock. I could smell him before I got too close. Kurt's scent made me want to drop a load immediately, but I found Tommy's repulsive. Maybe it was just that he was my brother; maybe it was his poor hygiene; maybe it was both. Luckily he didn't last long.
"Jesus Fucking Christ!" Tommy hissed. "You're not worthless after all, faggot. You're an expert cocksucker. Take my load but don't swallow yet. I want to see it in your mouth."
He flooded my mouth, and I held it there.
Tommy was still breathing hard. He pulled out and said, "Show me. Let me see you swish it around in your mouth."
I stared into the camera and swirled his cum around on my tongue. Tears were streaming down my face. Anyone who looked at the video would know that I wasn't enjoying myself. I hated Tommy at that moment more than I'd ever hated anyone in my life. Then he had to ruin it. His expression was suddenly that of a fifteen-year-old who'd just had his first blow job. He knelt beside me and hugged me.
"Seriously, Dylan, that was the most amazing thing I've ever felt," he said. "Thank you."
He stood back up and his expression became hard again.
"You're good at that. And you're going to get a lot of practice. Every morning when I get up and every night when I go to bed. Now get your faggot ass upstairs and go to sleep," he said.
I put on my sleeping shorts and fell onto the bed. I couldn't fall asleep right away. I couldn't get the memory out of my mind. I'd brushed my teeth for ten minutes and I imagined that I could still taste Tommy in my mouth. I felt sick to my stomach. And I could never tell Kurt about this. He'd hate me. I cried myself to sleep.
Craig Morgan
I woke up at 1:30 in the morning. The house was quiet except for Bethany's loud snoring coming from her "sewing room". I'd grown tired of her years ago, but the Bible forbade divorce. Tommy kept his door locked, but Dylan didn't have a lock on his door. I opened it a crack and peered into the room. Dylan was sleeping on top of his blankets. His smooth white skin was like marble. I stared at him for a few minutes and began to rub my cock through my boxers.
He reminded me so much of Cory, at least when he was asleep. Cory had always laughed and smiled. Dylan almost never did, not since he was a kid. I could still recall how Cory's lips curved up at the corners and how his face lit up at the slightest provocation. His eyes would seem to sparkle. When I closed my eyes, I could still smell that stupid grassy shampoo he always used, and I could feel his slender body in my arms.
He would always try to pull away and whine in that adorable way of his that he didn't want to betray his sister. That was his excuse, but he never told me that he didn't want me to touch him, to kiss his soft lips. And when I continued, despite his protests, he'd cry, but he'd melt in my arms and cry against my chest. I'd come so close to getting him. Three times I'd spilled my seed in my shorts while he struggled to get out of my arms. Twice I'd gotten his pants down and once I'd managed to get a finger inside his silky warm backside. He'd stopped accepting sips of my alcohol after that.
I closed the door to Dylan's room and went back to my bed. Since Bethany had started sleeping in her sewing room, I was always alone. I preferred it that way.
I pulled my boxers off and started to stroke my aching cock. I thought back to how tiny and sweet Dylan had been when he was younger. Before Bethany made me keep my hands off him. I stroked until I got shot all over myself.
Dylan was even better than Cory. He was still sweet and virginal. I knew he was gay. There was no way he couldn't be, not with that smooth body of his. He appeared to naturally lack body hair, at least from a distance. Maybe it was for the best that Bethany had stopped me that time she caught me kissing his neck and rubbing his butt. Now he could be pure and innocent forever. That's why I had to keep him so close.
I didn't trust Roger Groth. I knew that Cory worked for him. And I knew that he had to be fucking him. No man could work around Cory and not take advantage of him. One day I'd followed Cory at a distance and watched him as he did his shopping. He didn't see me, but I saw him. He still had that smile, and that laugh.
Roger had defiled Cory. I couldn't prove it, but I knew it had to be true. I'd always been terrified to let Dylan go over there. I didn't think Roger would try anything so long as his sons were there. I told Dylan to stick close to Kurt and to never let him out of his sight. So long as he was with Kurt, Roger couldn't touch him. He'd stay pure and innocent.
I knelt by the bed and prayed. I'd been weak. I'd had impure and lustful thoughts. I'd even masturbated while thinking of my son, but I hadn't succumbed to sinful acts. I thanked the lord for giving me the strength.
I'd resisted that temptation since my last trip to Indianapolis. I'd succumbed the last time I'd seen Danny, the boy prostitute who looked so much like Kenneth, my younger brother, or at least so much like he did as a teen. The boy told me he was eighteen, but I suspected he was younger. Last time, I'd spent two days with him, and I'd given him $500.
Danny made me think of Kenneth's son, Kieran. He was even prettier than Kenneth had been. It must have been his mother's genes, her beauty blending so well with Kenneth's handsome features. I'd cried in secret for months after Kenneth died. I couldn't believe that he'd sent me his son.
After that year at Christmas when we'd both gotten drunk, I'd taken Kenneth in the garage while our wives were preparing dinner. Kenneth had tried to fight me off, just like he had back when we were teens. But he wouldn't have gotten hard and shot his load if he hadn't enjoyed it, just like he did when we were teens. I'd fucked him and then I'd sucked his cock. Kenneth was the only guy I'd ever done that for. I probably would have for Cory, but I'd never had the chance. I almost did it for Danny last time I was in Indianapolis.
I'd been so proud of myself for the way I'd handled Kieran. I'd promised Kenneth at his funeral that I would never touch his son that way. And I hadn't. I'd been strong. And I'd kept him a virgin until he left for college.
Amid my long rambling, I finally fell back asleep.
Characters
● Bethany Morgan. The mother of the Morgan kids and the wife of the pastor. She's a passive-aggressive woman and a homophobe. She's 44 at the start of the story.
● Cory Lundgren. Bethany's youngest brother. He's short, blond, and blue-eyed, like Dylan. He stands 5 foot 7 inches tall and weighs 150 pounds. He's fourteen years younger than his sister. He was thrown out of the house for being gay when he was 18. He's 30 years old at the beginning of the story. Corwin Alan Lundgren. He works as Mr. Groth's assistant, but he's secretly his slave.
● Craig Morgan. The pastor. He stands 6 foot tall and weighs 160 pounds. He's thin and mean, with a sour expression. Although secretly gay, he married Bethany Lundgren to cover it up. He and his younger brother Kenneth Morgan (Kieran's father) never got along. He took Kieran in when his parents died. He's 45 at the start of the story.
● Damian Wilder. High school senior who is 17 at the beginning of the story. He's 6 foot tall, handsome, with a dark tan, green eyes with tiny flecks of gold, a snub nose, and a broad mouth. He's Steven's occasional lover who would like to be more. He's on the swim and diving teams.
● Donald Morgan. The oldest Morgan son. He's 5 foot 11 inches tall and weighs 180 pounds. He's heavy-set but strong. He has dark red hair and a lot of freckles. But they look good on him. He's mean-spirited and domineering, and he made his brother Dylan's life hard.
● Dylan Morgan. The main character who is the middle son in the Growth household. At 17, he was 5 foot 5 inches tall and weighed 130 pounds. He has blond hair and blue eyes. He's submissive and has dreamed of being his best friend's slave since middle school.
● Elizabeth Jepps. She's the only Morgan daughter. She's much like her mother. She's seven years older than Dylan. She got married at 18 to get out of the house. They rarely see her except at church. She's married to Jerry Jepps.
● Edgar Williams. The sound and video technician at Pastor Morgan's church. He's 35 years old with brown hair. He has an average build.
● Fred Nelson. A twenty-eight-year-old salesman at Groth automotive who seems very interested in Dylan (and Aaron).
● Greg Miller. A blond athlete, a senior in high school. He's one of Kurt's closest friends. He plays on the football team with Kurt. He's tall, thick bodied with muscle, and strong. Dylan has always felt that Greg didn't like him and was trying to undermine his friendship with Kurt.
● Jerry Jepps. He's the husband of Elizabeth Morgan-Jepps. He's six years older than his wife and thirteen years older than Dylan. He works as a manager at the Farm and Feed store.
● Kurt Groth. He's the youngest Groth boy, only a few months younger than Dylan. His mother was black, so his skin is much darker than his father. He stands 6 foot tall and weighs 175 pounds. He muscular but less bulky than his father. He has medium brown skin and black hair with tight curls. He wears it medium length on top with a low fade. He is bisexual, but he's in love with his best friend Dylan. He wants to dominate him totally and own him as a slave.
● Roger Groth. Owner of Groth Automobiles, Groth Farm Equipment, and several properties around town. He's forty years old and has two sons, Steven, and Kurt. He stands 6 foot tall and weighs 200 pounds of solid muscle. He has light brown hair and fair skin. His wife died 12 years ago, and he's been Cory's master almost as long.
● Steven Groth. The oldest of the two Groth boys. He stands 6 foot 4 inches tall and weighs 190 pounds. He has light brown skin and wavy black hair that he wears very short. He was a swimmer in high school and keeps his body shaved even after graduation. He has light amber eyes. He was in love with Kieran Morgan all through high school and he regrets not pressing Kieran to come out of the closet when they were in school together. He's a year older than Dylan and Kurt.
● Thomas Morgan. The youngest Morgan son. He's two years younger than Dylan but he's about the same size. He has bright red hair, pale skin and a lot of freckles. He joins in with his oldest brother teasing and tormenting Kieran and Dylan.