Small Town Slave Boy Reboot
This story is a reboot of the original Small Town Slave Boy story.
This story will be found in the gay/authoritarian subcategory. Despite being tangentially connected to the College Magic Series,
there are no supernatural elements in this story.
Dylan Morgan is the son of a homophobic minister named Craig Morgan. He is 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. He has a sister Elizabeth who is seven years older than him, a brother Donald who is four years older than him and another brother Thomas who is two years younger than him. His cousin Kieran is one year older than him.
Dylan is a small boy and will grow to be a small man. He is a cute kid, but he's skinny and lacks any sense of self-worth. He also has a small penis, which is a source of embarrassment for him. Unlike his brothers and his sister, he is gay. Much of his trauma and lack of self-esteem come from the fact that his authoritarian father made it clear from his words and his actions that he hated gay people and thought they were tools of Satan.
This story is mostly told from Dylan's point of view, but occasionally the point of view shift 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
·
If you want to be informed of new stories, send me
an email, and ask to be put on the notification list. I'll send a notification.
Everyone will be on the bcc line so your email address will not show to other
members. NOTE THAT SOMETIMES GOOGLE WILL NOT ALLOW BULK EMAIL AND THAT
SOMETIMES BULK EMAIL WILL END UP IN YOUR SPAM FOLDER OR TRASH.
·
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 data should be
secure. If a reader sends a question my way, I will post the answer to that
group after removing any information about the reader. It's a good way to get
more background information if you want. https://groups.google.com/g/pseudominius-stories
·
While this storyline is designed to mostly
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 principal 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
· My Roommate the Alchemist
· Wishcraft
· Alchemy and Songcraft
· Magery
· Elf Master
· The Pack
Other Stories
Small Town Slave Boys Chapter 7 (New Family)
Dylan
On Sunday, I took the opportunity to clean the house from top to bottom while Steven and Kurt played video games. I did all the work in my slave tunic and underwear, feeling like a real slave. I took the tunic off and worked just in my new underwear whenever I was doing anything that could get me dirty or sweaty because I was trying to keep my tunic clean. This was the way it should be, I thought, me taking care of my master.
I finished everything before noon and had time to prepare lunch for my master and his brother. They told me to keep it simple, so I made them grilled ham and cheese sandwiches. For myself, I stuck to the smoothie. The nice thing about eating them twice a day was that I knew exactly how many calories they were, and I wasn't worried enough to start skipping meals.
When I'd finished cleaning up, Steven took me down to the basement family room. He sighed and then snapped his fingers and pointed to the ground in front of him. I knew he didn't really enjoy participating in my slavery to this extent, but he was a good brother to Kurt and wanted to help him out. I dropped to my knees in front of him and assumed the slave position. My back was upright, my knees were spread, my hands were behind my neck and my head was bowed.
"Kurt has some work to do, and he asked me to prepare an exercise program for you. He wants you to firm up and put on a little muscle, not a lot, just enough to shape your body to his liking. Do you have a problem with following the program I'm going to give you, Dylan? If you do, you need to say something now because I have no intention of wasting my time," he said.
"I will obey you sir and follow your plan to the best of my ability," I promised.
"Look at me, Dylan," Steven demanded. When I had lifted my head, he said, "I'm not Kurt, and I'm not going to spank you or punish you. If you don't do what I tell you to do, I'll be done. I'll no longer be helping you to improve yourself, and I'll no longer help you make yourself worthy of Kurt's affection. I'm not playing games; I'm just telling you how it's going to be."
I swallowed hard and said, "Yes sir! I'll do everything you say. Thank you for helping to train me so I can be better."
"Good," Steven said. "Now that that's out of the way, let me explain what you'll be doing. I have found some online videos that will show you some exercises for toning your muscles and core body strength. You'll be doing these instead of weight training because Kurt doesn't want you to bulk up at all."
Steven made me give him my passwords to my google account so he could check my progress. He assured me he wouldn't pry into anything he didn't need to see, but he wanted to be able to load stuff directly onto my drive. It made me nervous because I had so much fiction I'd written about Kurt on my account, but in the end, I didn't feel like I had a choice. I had to trust Steven.
He'd drawn up an exercise schedule with specific videos to watch at specific times and he showed me how to record myself because he wanted to be able to see me do the exercises if he checked. Then he left me to do the first set. It started with stretching and then went into a series of squats, thrusts, jumps, windmills, sit ups and crunches. I never exercised. I controlled my weight through dieting. Steven had me start with only a twenty-minute workout, but even that was almost too much for me. I had to push myself to make it through the entire session. I was panting when Steven came back just before I finished. I turned off the video and it automatically saved in the video file with the date and time.
"Go shower and get clean. If Kurt hasn't already told you, you need to douche your ass every time you shower. You never know when he's going to want to fuck you once school begins, so you should try to douche quickly even at school when you shit. Take a bottle of water with you in your backpack just to fill the bulb. Cleanliness is important in a bottom," he explained.
"Do you ever bottom, sir?" I asked. I didn't want to pry, but I wanted to know if he had to take the same precautions he wanted me to.
Steven smiled at me and said, "I do like to bottom sometimes, but I only douche when I think I'm going to get lucky. I'm just giving you advice because I know that Kurt will probably want to fuck you at school. I told him that it would be dangerous, but he's your master and I know he's going to do it anyway."
"Yes sir," I said.
Then I grabbed my things so I could douche, shower, and brush my teeth. I kept imagining Kurt fucking me in the bathroom, in the basement, in the janitor's closet, and under the bleachers. I was sure there were more places Kurt could find. Despite the danger, the idea excited me and my cocklet got so hard that it was painful. When I dried off and put my clean tunic on, my erection was pushing against it.
Spending a Sunday without having to listen to my father spew hate from the pulpit was like heaven to me. Kurt and Steven were playing chess in the upstairs family room when I came up, so I knelt at Kurt's feet while they played. For the most part, they ignored me unless they wanted me to fetch something for one of them. Both were good players, but today it was Kurt who won three out of five matches.
The rest of the lazy day passed without event. For dinner, I cooked one of the frozen meals that Alan had left for the boys. It was grilled chicken breast and with a lemon-caper sauce. Steven supervised me making tagliatelle. I'd never made noodles from scratch before, but it wasn't hard with Steven telling me what to do at each step of the way. We also made oven roasted zucchini with lemon and olive oil.
I had made zero infractions of the rules on Sunday, and I was ecstatic about it, even if I was confused. I liked the spankings, but I liked the feeling that I was doing what my master expected even more. When we went to bed that night, Kurt held me tight and made love to me.
The week seemed to be settling into routine. Steven had brought Damon over on Monday and he spent the night. He helped me do the meals and the clean-up while he was here, but he didn't act as Steven's slave again, at least not that I could see. If I could live with Kurt, I expected that it would be like this all the time.
On Wednesday, I had done a deep cleaning of the laundry room while Kurt and Steven were finishing their lifting. I was kneeling in the basement family room in proper slave position when they finished. I kept my eyes downcast but had been stealing glances at the two of them while they worked out and my cocklet was hard as iron.
"I'd better let you take care of business, Kurt. I can see that your slave boy is anxious to serve," Steven said. He whispered something to Kurt and then laughed. "I'm going to go talk to Damon's parents about taking him to Indianapolis for the Drag Racing Nationals the weekend after next, but I should be back in time to give you some moral support."
"Will his parents let him go with you for a whole three-day weekend?" Kurt asked.
Steven smiled and said, "They love me, Bro. They think I'm a good influence on him."
Kurt laughed and asked, "Do they think you're going to drill some manliness deep inside him to help him become a real man?"
"Something like that, Bro. Anyway, you have the house to yourself to try and inject some manliness into Dylan, not that it would do much good," Steven teased.
It didn't bother me much when Steven joked like that because I knew that he wasn't being mean. He was just stating a fact. I wasn't very manly, and nothing was going to change that. And I didn't want to be manly. Steven made his feelings clear when he knelt and gave me a hug.
He whispered, "I'm only teasing, Dylan. You know that I love your submissiveness."
When he was gone, Kurt announced, "I've been sweating like a pig. Let me hop in the shower and then I'll fuck you good."
I dared to interrupt him to disagree, "Master, can we shower afterward. I ... um ... I like the way you smell when you've been working out/"
Kurt strutted over and stood so that his musky crotch was pressed against my face. He asked in husky voice, "Are you saying that you want me dirty? Is that what turns you on, slave boy?"
I inhaled deeply and felt his sweaty essence entering my nostrils, flooding my brain, and overloading my senses. I let out a little whimpering groan and then replied, "Yes master. Your smell is the most powerful aphrodisiac I can imagine. When I smell you, I get weak in the knees and all I want is drop down and worship you."
"Fuck, Dylan! That's so damned hot. It's kind of sick that one man could be that into another, not sick in a bad or gross way, but sick in a totally fucking badass way. I ... I have nothing, absolutely nothing, to offer in return for such devotion. I love ... like ... no, love you ... but I can't compete with that," he said.
"No master! You do give me something just as good ... no, even better. You give me the chance to worship you. I get to worship your body, your amazing cock, and your genius brain. It's my dream, and you've given it to me," I said with complete honesty.
Kurt was smiling and shaking his head. He probably thought there was something wrong with me, but I didn't care. Kurt wasn't just my lover or my boyfriend. He was like a god to me, and I was his supplicant. I loved everything about him, from his brown skin to his full lips to his brown eyes to his muscles to his brilliant mind. As far as I was concerned, he was perfect.
I reached up and took hold of the waistband of his shorts and looked at him, my eyes begging for permission. He replied, "Go ahead."
I pulled his shorts down and held them while he stepped out of them. He was wearing his tight tee shirt and a red jock that barely contained his massive cock. He pulled his shirt off and tossed it at me. I grabbed it and inhaled deeply. He'd been working out for a couple of hours today including the run through the path in the woods and the weightlifting, and his shirt was drenched with his sweat, the masculine scent of a real man. Despite his seventeen years, Kurt was all man.
I buried my face in the pouch of his jock, feeling his half-erect dick pushed against my lips. The cloth was soaked with his sweat, and the scent was an intoxicating mixture of his body odor and the musky aroma of his cock and balls. Whenever I smelled it, I felt like his maleness was overwhelming my own, subsuming my masculinity and making it subservient to his own. I really was his slave because my body automatically submitted to him with no conscious thought on my own part.
I pulled the jock down and his monster cock sprang forth. I jumped back and Kurt laughed at the sight of it hitting me in the face. "Sorry, slave boy, but my dick has a mind of its own," he said. "Unfortunately, I won't be able to fuck you properly until I take a piss."
He rubbed his cockhead against my face, and I kept trying in vain to catch it with my mouth. Kurt laughed at me again and said, "If you want it, I need to hear you beg me for it, slave boy."
I gave him my best puppy dog eyes and pleaded, "Please master, let me drink your piss for you."
"You don't sound very enthusiastic, slave boy," he sighed.
"Please master, let me have your piss. My body graves everything that comes from your titanic cock. I want to serve you in everyway possible. I want to lick the sweat from your skin, and I want to swallow your golden nectar, and when I've taken it all, I want to suck your seed directly from your cock. Everything that comes from your body makes me want more. It's not just that I need it; I crave it. Please master, let me have it," I begged.
"That's better, slave boy. Take my cock in your mouth and don't you dare spill a drop," he warned with a fake scowl.
"Yes master!" I replied enthusiastically. Then I opened my mouth and let him put the head inside me.
"I'm not going to hold back, slave boy," he said.
And then he started pissing. He wasn't kidding. He was so forceful that the stream bounced off the back of my throat. I swallowed as fast as I could. The taste wasn't as bad as I'd thought when I first tasted it, or maybe it was the fact that my brain could rationalize anything when it came to Kurt. But it wasn't the taste that got me so excited. It was the fact that I was doing this for Kurt. I felt like I was abasing myself before him. Drinking his piss made me feel like his inferior, like I was fulfilling my destiny by serving a superior man like him. And that feeling of complete subservience was, for me, the best feeling in the world.
As his stream tapered off, he used one hand to hold my chin and the other to gently stroke my face. The look in his eyes was one of complete mastery and domination, but beneath it I could see something else, something more tender. Kurt was a complex man. He was my complicated man.
I stroked his cockhead with my tongue, teasing him a little. He pulled out of my mouth and said, "Not so fast, slave boy. You still owe me a tongue bath."
Then he held out his hand and led me to the guest bedroom. He lay back on the bed and I crawled on top of him. I started at his feet. I took his left foot and kissed it, top and bottom. Then I took his big toe and sucked it into my mouth and massaged it gently with my tongue. Then I moved to the next toe, and then the next. I continued until I had sucked each of them. Then I licked the bottom of his foot in long slow strokes.
I moved to his right foot and stared over again. His feet were enormous, a little more than foot long. Those 15 EE feet were as powerful as the rest of his body, and I loved to look at them and to feel them. Having them in my mouth sent a thrill up my spine. They were sweaty and had a slightly sour taste, but the predominant flavor was pure unadulterated Kurt.
After finishing his feet, I licked my way up both calves with long strokes. I could taste the saltiness of his sweat and I could feel his firm muscles beneath my tongue, but his taste was less strong until I came closer to his groin. When my tongue found that special place where his upper thighs met his balls, I was overwhelmed with the scent and the flavor. This seemed to be the source of his sexy masculine musk. My head spun as that aroma wormed its way into my brain, and the taste was the same as the scent.
I savored the taste of my master and I continued to lick his skin until the complex and slightly sour flavor faded. I wanted to dive onto his cock, but I'd promised that I would lick every inch of his skin. I moved up and licked his abdomen, paying special attention to his navel which made him groan while his hands gripped my head tight.
I noticed that the higher up on his body my tongue moved, the more he tasted of sweat and the less he tasted of his own musk, but even if I loved it less than the taste of his maleness, I loved it still. The saltiness and the sourness combined to tease my senses. It was less erotic and sensual than the taste of his sex, but it was in some ways more energizing. I felt like my senses were coming alive and my nerves were on fire.
My favorite part of his body between his lips and his waist was the crevice between his hard, square pecs. His sweat had accumulated there all day, and yet because it was exposed to the open air, it maintained a fresh smell and taste. Once I had cleaned that spot, I spent some time gently licking his small, hard nipples before moving on to his sweaty armpits. They were sourer than his chest had been, and their taste made me deliriously horny.
Kurt
Dylan had been more eager to please me this week than ever before, and he was getting creative. I would have to work hard to stay ahead of him. When he offered to lick the sweat and funk off my body, I almost shot off at that very moment. And then he did it. I was going to have to work hard to keep my head from swelling so big I wouldn't be able to get it through the door. Having a cute little twink worship my body, not just with his eyes, his hands, and his mouth, but with his heart and soul, made me feel almost like a god. It was exciting, arousing and more than a little terrifying. It was a responsibility that I hadn't anticipated when I had chosen Dylan.
What the hell was I thinking. I hadn't really chosen Dylan. Steven was right. It was always going to be him. Last night, he told me that he hadn't been able to masturbate without thinking about me. What I didn't tell him was that, once the initial excitement had worn off, it was his face and his lips that kept coming to my mind when I was with Alicia. I dreamed of him kneeling before me, and I dreamed of him beneath me.
His blond head was bobbing around in left armpit. It tickled and felt amazing at the same time. I ran my right hand through his sweaty hair. He looked up me and asked, "Can you turn over now, master, so I can clean your backside?"
I brushed the hair from his brow and said, "No, Dylan. Now that I know what you like, I'll be sure to start cleaning up back there. I'd love to feel your tongue in my ass. Seeing the way you react when I eat yours, makes me want to experience it for myself, but not until I'm ready for you."
Seeing the disappointed look on his face made me want to relent, but I reminded myself that I was the one in charge. If I gave in to Dylan and let him make the choices, I wouldn't be acting as the master he wanted me to be.
He brightened when I exercised my authority and ordered, "Get the lube and get me ready. I need you to sit on my cock now."
He eagerly replied, "Yes master!"
Then he jumped up and grabbed the lube. He wasted no time applying a generous coat to my painfully swollen cock. He knew how painful it would be when I entered him, so I could forgive him for perhaps using too much. Then he started working some into his ass. The look of earnest concentration on his face made me want to laugh. There was no doubt that he wanted it as much as I did.
I wanted to maintain a cool, masterly aloofness, but I couldn't. I put my hands on his hips and said, "I love you, slave boy."
Dylan put down the lube and said, "I love you, too, master."
Then he positioned himself over my cock and moved his ass back and forth until the head was pressing against his hole. He reached back and pulled his cheeks apart and wiggled back and forth. He alternately relaxed and tightened his hole, like he was kissing the head with his ass lips, or perhaps nibbling it. Slowly he opened and swallowed just the tip. Then he held my cock upright and pressed down with gentle but inexorable pressure until I was lodged firmly just inside his ring.
The look on Dylan's face was one of overwhelming pain mixed with pure pleasure but overriding it all was an eagerness that revealed his devotion to me. I put my hands on his hips and pulled him down slowly but forcefully. His eyes bulged a little, but a smile crossed his lips. Dylan liked a little pain. It was my job as his master to give him what he needed, but not more.
He slid down my cock until I hit that inner sphincter. He had another few inches to go. I held back until he had relaxed enough to accommodate my length and girth. Then I asked, "Are you ready slave boy?"
"Yes master," he said. "I think I need your help, though."
My hands had been resting on his hips. I gripped him tight and then pulled him down in one forceful movement. He gave a cry of pain as his buttocks came to rest on my pubes. He was still breathing heavily, and he was biting his lip in that maddeningly cute way of his.
"Are you okay, Dylan?" I asked. "Was that too much?"
"No master," he said. "I'm good. It feels great to have you inside me."
He started to move on my cock. I lay back and let him ride me for several minutes, then I sat up and pulled his thin chest against mine and kissed his neck. I wanted to bite it, to mark him as mine, but I knew better. His homophobic father would see it and then everything would be ruined. Later. I would mark him later in some way that couldn't be mistaken, but for now I would leave no signs for the hatemongers.
He moved against me, moaning into my chest as I kissed him. I could feel the precum pouring from his cock, making both our abdomens slippery and I could feel his urgency in every twitch of his cocklet and every tremble in his body. He was close, as close as I was. I could my orgasm approaching. My balls felt tight, and my shaft was flooding with cum.
I pulled him tighter, crushing him against me. I let out a low animal groan and I exploded inside him. He was sobbing and running his ragged fingernails over my back. I continued to hold him while he finished spilling him cum against me.
"I didn't hurt you, did I?" I asked, kissing his face.
"No master," he replied. "I'm just happy and I know this week is going to end and I'm going to have to go back home, and this will all be like a dream, and it will be gone."
"You time back home will be the dream. As soon as you're eighteen, you'll move in here with me," I promised.
I was holding him gently when I heard, "You boys need to shower and then join me in the living room in no more than fifteen minutes. We need to talk."
I looked over and saw my dad standing in the doorway. I couldn't read his face, but I knew that tone of voice. He wasn't asking. He was telling me what he expected. That's the way he was. He never yelled. He never hit us. He gave us the expectations and we followed them, not out of fear but out of love and respect.
********************
Dylan and I had showered quickly. My dad must have been expecting us to shower together since he'd given us so little time. I told Dylan to dress in a pair of his sexy shorts and tee shirt. I put on a jock strap (I was too big to go commando), knit shorts and a muscle shirt. Then we headed upstairs to face the music.
In the living room, my father awaited us. He was sitting in the recliner. Steven must have come home because he was sitting on one sofa. I led Dylan over to the other sofa and we sat down. It had never occurred to me how much that recliner looked like a throne when Dad was sitting in it, like he was holding court and we were there to answer his questions and to receive his judgement. Maybe I was just feeling guilty.
"So, guys, why don't you tell me what's going on?" Dad asked.
Dylan was even more pale than usual, and he was trembling next to me. I put my arm around his shoulders and said, "Dylan and I are having sex now, Dad."
"I saw that," he replied in an even tone of voice. I could see the smile playing around his lips, but Dylan could never read my dad's expressions well enough to know what he was thinking. "Anyone who was there could have seen it."
"I'm not ashamed of it, Dad. I wouldn't care if everyone saw us," I insisted.
Dad's face took on serious tone. "I do care," he said. "Dylan's father is ... well Dylan's father is very strict. If someone finds out about this, you're not the one who's going to suffer. Who knows what that ... what his father would do, if he found out."
"Dad! It's not like Pastor Morgan is going to be lurking around in our basement to see me and Dylan together," I replied.
Dad leaned back and took a deep breath. He sighed and said, "Dylan is like a third son to me, and I don't want to see him get hurt. Since you two are having sex now, I need you to promise me that you won't do anything to get Dylan hurt. I'm telling you, Kurt, that I will hold you responsible for what happens. You're the one who must protect him from exposure."
"Yes sir," I said. I had Dad's permission to keep doing what we were doing, but I had to keep it out of the public eye. "But when Dylan turns eighteen, he's going to move in here ... if that's okay with you, of course."
"Dylan could move in here tonight as far as I'm concerned, so that's not a problem. Until then, don't do anything rash or reckless. My expectation is that you will be responsible enough to take care of Dylan and keep him safe," he said.
Then he looked at Dylan and said, "Look at me, Dylan. My expectation of you is that you don't do anything to get yourself in trouble. I've told Kurt to be responsible enough to keep you safe. I'm telling you to listen to Kurt and follow his instructions."
"Yes sir," Dylan said.
When dad used the phrase my expectation Steven and I knew that that he was being serious. I'd have to impress that fact on Dylan and make sure that he understood that he didn't want to disappoint my father. Dad was really cool and laid back, but he expected us all to follow his instructions.
"Good then. If you two don't get to spend enough time together, then I know you're going to do something careless. So, we need to make sure that you two have time together. We could use a new part-time receptionist to answer phones at the auto-dealership. I'll give you the job Dylan, and Steven will continue to tutor you in the evening. And I'll make sure that you're scheduled to work a lot on the weekends. You'll be able to see each other then," he said.
"Won't that eat up all Dylan's time?" I asked. "If he's working all the time, when will we get to see each other except at school?"
"I'll put him on the schedule a lot on the weekend, but Pastor Morgan doesn't need to know exactly how many hours Dylan is in the dealership. It'll all work out. Trust me," he said.
Dylan spoke up and asked, "Will my dad go for it? He's controlling and he likes to keep me under his thumb."
Dad chuckled. "He'll agree to anything if I talk to him before the Church Council meeting. He's still trying to get me to give the church a van. I'll cut him a deal if he plays ball, not free but close to my cost. Besides, I'll make sure some other council members can hear me when I tell him how much this will help Dylan set himself up for after graduation."
Dad knew Pastor Morgan's weaknesses. He was greedy. The more he could save the church in expenses, the more he could get the church to shell out for his parsonage. And he was always worried about his reputation. He knew that the congregation whispered about what a terrible parent he was. Donny was always in trouble. Lizzy had been a pregnant high school senior when she got married and Tommy seemed to be heading down the same road as Donny. Of course, everyone already suspected Dylan was gay. Pastor Morgan wouldn't refuse to allow Dylan a chance to improve himself with a job and more tutoring, not if others knew about it.
"Are you going to pay Dylan for not working, Dad?" I asked, confused as to how this arrangement was going to work. That arrangement did not sound like my dad.
"No, I'm not. I'm offering Dylan a part-time student position. You're going to work hard while you're at the office, Dylan, but you'll be limited to 10 hours a week at the phones. Minimum wage in this state is $7.25 an hour, so I'm going to pay you for 20 hours. That will bring you up to a little more than I pay beginning office workers, so don't spread it around," Dad said. "You'll be working the desk for 10 hours, but you'll also be paid for your study time here at the house. It'll all work out."
"Thank you, sir," Dylan said.
Dad then turned to Steven and said, "You were in charge while I was gone, Steven. Why didn't you tell me what was going on between Kurt and Dylan?"
Steven shrugged and replied, "I didn't think you would care. You've always been cool when I had guys over. You knew what we were doing."
"I did, but this is different. Why?" Dad asked.
Steven inhaled and then exhaled slowly as he said, "It's different because you weren't here at the time, but you still would have been responsible for anything that happened."
"True," Dad replied. "No matter what I think of the pastor or his rules, I accepted responsibility for his son, and I should have known what was happening with him. What else?"
Steven and I both looked at Dad with confusion. Neither of us were sure what he was getting at. He let us sit in uncomfortable silence until Steven said, "Because it was Dylan."
Dad nodded and replied, "That's right. Dylan isn't just some boy. He's been a part of our family for years. You didn't think I would want to be sure that he was okay with what was happening? This is more serious than you and Damian because I feel obligations to Dylan, like I was uncle or something."
Dylan interjected, "I'm okay with everything, sir. I wanted everything that happened this week."
Dad nodded and said, "I'm sure that you are fine with it. I know how you feel about Kurt. I've always known. But it was my job to make sure that you weren't being influenced unduly by my son. His personality is strong, and he can dominate a boy like you without exerting himself much."
That didn't seem fair to me. Dylan was the one who was pushing our relationship. I was the one trying to put the breaks on to slow us down. But I wasn't going to argue with Dad, not when he was giving us everything we could have wanted.
Dad continued, "Steven, I'm not mad; I'm just a little bit disappointed, but I know that you'll do better in the future. Is there anything else I should know about?"
"No sir," Steven said.
"No alcohol?" Dad asked.
"No sir," Steven replied.
"Any parties?" Dad asked.
"No sir, but Damian was over one night, and the next day Greg came over and the five us were here until midnight," Steven admitted.
Steven had a worried look on his face, then he added, "Damian and Dylan were outed to each other while Damian was here, and Greg saw ... well, he saw evidence that we we'd been having sex the night before, so ... he knows about both Dylan and Damian."
Dad nodded. Then he looked at me and said, "Is this going to be a problem, Kurt?"
"No sir!" I replied. "Not at all. Greg isn't a bigot and I think he's happier knowing about Dylan. Now he understands our relationship and he knows ..."
"He knows that he and Dylan aren't competing to be your best friend. That's why he kept trying to come between the two of you over the last couple of years. You tell me it's not a problem; I believe you, but you need to make sure that it doesn't become a problem. Do you understand my expectations in this matter?" he asked.
"Yes sir," I replied. I was planning on taking care of that issue on my own anyway.
"We're good then," Dad said. "The matter is settled. You boys will be moderate and restrained whenever anyone else is around. Dylan, you're welcome here any time, but you'll be sleeping upstairs with Kurt in his bed. I don't want to risk anyone else seeing what they shouldn't. And you'd better be on your best behavior around your dad. I'm not ready to confront him yet. I will be before you turn eighteen."
"I'm going to order dinner at that Italian place we like and pick it up. We'll have company tonight, so be dressed appropriately," Dad announced.
Then he stood up. He gave Steven and me a firm fatherly hug then pulled Dylan in to hold him tight to his chest. He kissed his forehead and said, "Don't worry about anything, Dylan. If you follow my expectations, everything will be fine."
I saw Dylan melt into Dad's arms. That was Dad. He treated me and Steven as young men because that's how he saw us, and that's what we needed. He treated Dylan like a younger child because that's how he saw him and that's what Dylan needed. He held him there for a while before kissing the top of his head and letting him go.
We watched Dad leave the room and then Dylan grabbed me and put his arms around me. "I wish he was my dad," he said.
"I know how you feel, Dylan, but that would be too weird for me," I whispered.
Dylan chuckled and admitted, "I guess it would. Still, I wish my dad could be more like him."
We agreed on that point.
When Dad left, we went downstairs and gathered up Dylan's stuff and took it upstairs. We wouldn't have our private little love nest anymore, but we would be sharing my bed when Dylan could get away from home. That was better in many ways.
Dylan
Kurt and I made sure we were dressed properly for dinner. I fingered the chain he'd given me. No one would suspect that it was my slave collar. "Are we in boyfriend mode tonight, master, or just good friend mode," I asked.
"Good friend mode unless Dad says otherwise," Kurt replied. "Don't even think about disobeying him, Kurt. I know that you ignore your dad and his rules all the time, but there are a couple of differences you should be aware of. First, my dad means business when he tells you what to do. He always has his reasons. Second, he won't be happy if you disobey him. He won't blow up at you and yell and scream, but he will lose respect for you, and you don't want that."
"No master, I won't disobey him. I want him to like me," he said.
He gave me a look like he wanted to say something else to me but changed his mind. He had a sad and thoughtful look on his face. "What master?" I asked.
Kurt put his arm around me and said, "Dad will never stop liking you or loving you, no matter what you do. That's not how families are supposed to work. He could lose respect for you and then you'd have to work hard to get it back."
It sounded strange to me. I didn't recognize the relationship he was describing. I'd never felt that my dad loved, liked, or respected me. Kurt gave me a look that said that he knew what I was thinking and that he was sorry.
We went down to make sure the house was ready for guests, which meant that Steven and Kurt were finding things that needed to be tidied and I was doing the tidying. It made me feel good because it felt normal for me. I was still nervous about everything being revealed to Mr. Groth. Following their orders made me feel like I was in my comfort zone.
Steven supervised me making fruit punch again. I used the juicer and combined apple, pear and plum, all from the fruit trees out back in the yard. I put it in the freezer so it could chill before Mr. Groth and his guest came back.
When they pulled up, Steven and Kurt went out to get everything from the car. And when they came back in, I smelled the rich aroma of garlic, cheese, and rosemary. The boys set everything down on the kitchen counter. I was removing everything from the bags and setting it out neatly in the aluminum take out containers when I saw Mr. Groth come back in. Alan, the old houseboy, was with him.
"Guys let's leave Dylan and Cory to take of the food," he said.
When they left, the blond man came over and gave me a hug. He was only a couple of inches taller than me, but he was more solid. I'd always thought he looked a little like me. "It's good to see you again, Dylan. I missed you," he said.
"I missed you too, Alan ... I mean Cory?" I replied.
"Sorry about the little white lie," he said. "My name is Cory Alan Groth. When we first met, Roger thought it better that I go by my middle name so my sister wouldn't know you were hanging around with me."
"Your sister?" I asked.
"My sister, Bethany, your mother," he said. "I'm not her favorite person."
"She's not that ... um ... she's kind of ... um," I hesitated.
"She's a bitch, Sweetie," he said. "She always has been. She's the one who outed me to our parents and got me thrown out of the house when I was just eighteen, all because she caught her husband kissing me."
"Is that why Mom married Dad because her husband was cheating on her? She was married before?" I asked.
Cory hugged me and said, "No, baby. Your dad was the husband who was kissing me."
"That's gross!" I replied. "You were kissing my dad?"
Cory ripped the cover off a pan of rosemary garlic bread sticks and started putting them on a platter, so they weren't stacked on top of one another. "Not really," he said. "Your dad was kissing me, not the other way around. It's not that he was bad looking, but he was in his thirties, and I was just a kid. He'd been bothering me for years and I'd never let myself be alone with him until he cornered me at your grandparents' house."
"I'm sorry." It wasn't my fault, but I felt a need to apologize anyway.
"It wasn't your fault. It was your dad's. Your mom was pregnant at the time with that baby she lost, and she was even bitchier than usual, but that wasn't why he did it. He'd been trying to ... um ... get in my pants since I was a sophomore," he said.
"That's ... but he's such a homophobe!" I said, more than a little bit outraged.
Cory shrugged and said, "A lot of homophobes are raging closet cases. I suspect that's true of your dad as well. In any event, I got the blame because I was so queer. My dad had caught me twice before making out with a boy and he'd beaten me for it. This was the final straw as far as he was concerned. Luckily, I was able to finish school, thanks to the Lambda Foundation, and they helped me find a job with Groth Automotive. Getting tossed out on my ass was the best thing that ever happened to me."
I didn't know what to say, so I just helped prepare the food. Mr. Groth had ordered veal manicotti, meatballs, antipasti salad and those breadsticks which came with their delicious house marinara sauce. Cory helped me fix plates for the Groths and set them at the table. Then we made our own plates. He made me put more food than I wanted on mine.
Last we poured fruit punch for everyone and set the pitcher on the table before inviting the guys in to eat. As we gathered around the table, Mr. Groth announced, "Since everyone here is now mature enough to handle the truth, I wanted to let you know that Cory here has been my lover for about ten years. We got together just two years after he started at Groth Automotive, and not quite a year after your mother died, boys."
Steven said, "I know, Dad. I figured it out a long time ago, when I realized that Cory had changed his last name to Groth. So, does this make you our stepdad, Cory? Does it make you Dylan's actual uncle, Dad?"
Mr. Groth shook his head and said, "I'm not sure. Cory and I aren't married, although that may come once Kurt's out of school. In any event, Dylan has been a member of our family for a while as far as I'm concerned, regardless of what he is to me."
We sat down to enjoy our meal. Cory was better at anticipating Mr. Groth's needs than I was with Kurt. He jumped up several times to get things we needed. The more I realized how much I looked like him. We were both small compared to the Groths, and we were both slender compared to them. We were both very blond with skin paler than Mr. Groth. (Unlike his sons, he was Caucasian, like us, but his skin was a shade or two darker than ours.) Cory and I both had blue green eyes and delicate features that made us more pretty than handsome.
During dinner, I kept wishing that Damian was here so that Steven would have someone to be with. It seemed to me that our family would be complete then. I felt a momentary twinge of guilt over the fact that my cousin Kieran wasn't here with Steven. I couldn't get over the fact that it was probably my fault they'd never gotten together.
Then I thought about my dad trying to force himself on Cory. Since Cory had just turned thirty, that meant that my dad was fifteen years older than him. He would have been older than Cory is now when he decided to try and fuck him back when Cory was still a year younger than me. Suddenly thoughts of my dad made me sick to my stomach. He wasn't just a hypocrite. The special brand of hate he spewed hurt people. My nausea turned to a cold burning hatred of my own. He'd made me feel unloved and unworthy my entire life just because he suspected I was like him. I wanted to see him ruined, to see his smug face as all his secrets were revealed to the public.
That night, Kurt took me again, this time with more force and for the first time we did it in his bed. I'd smiled to myself when Mr. Groth had taken Alan ... my Uncle Cory that is ... to his bedroom. Only Steven was alone.
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. 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.
· 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 10 years ago, and he's been Cory's master.
· 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 red hair and freckles. He joins in with his oldest brother teasing and tormenting Kieran and Dylan.