Small Town Slave Boys
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.
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
·
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 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
· My Roommate the Alchemist
· Wishcraft
· Alchemy and Songcraft
· Magery
· Elf Master
· The Pack
Other Stories
Small Town Slave Boys Chapter 7
Dylan
The next week was the last week of summer vacation, and I was overcome with sadness at the thought that I would have to return home after church on Sunday. If I could, I'd never go home again. I'd stay with the Groths forever. Everyone here accepted me for who I was, not only for being a gay boy, but for my desire to serve Kurt in every way. None of the Groths ever yelled at the others or said mean things to make them feel bad. And Mr. Groth wasn't like either of my parents. He was firm and resolute, but also kind and ... the best word for it was wise. He didn't order his sons to do anything. He offered them advice and they followed his desires willingly because they trusted him, and they respected him. It was almost like a fantasy.
Steven continued to oversee my exercise program and he'd begun checking up on my diet. I noticed that he was putting links to more yoga videos on my google drive. Those positions, stretches and exercises looked easy, but they weren't easy at all when you started doing them. At first I'd just been going through the motions, but Steven supervised me whenever new exercises were included, and he insisted that I keep all the muscles tense when I was doing them so that I would build muscle tone.
And Kurt was becoming a little more domineering now that everything was out in the open. Whenever I had no chores to do, he required me to kneel by his feet. But there was less time for that than you'd think because he also had me watching cooking videos so that I could improve my skills. He added a lot of links to videos with cleaning tips, hints about common household chores and other things like that, things that a would-be slave should know how to do.
The best news for me was that my uncle Cory had brought some bags and was staying for the week. I'd first met him under his middle name Alan, but he'd had to stay away while I was at the house after I'd accidentally let my parents know that he was there. That situation had lasted for years.
I was working on breakfast for the Groth men that first day after Mr. Groth's return, when Cory came into the kitchen. I was in my shorts and tee shirt because Kurt had been concerned that we hadn't shared all the details of our relationship, specifically that I had been wearing a dress cut down to look like a slave's tunic. Cory was wearing a pair of shorts even more tiny than the ones I wore. And his smooth, hairless chest was bare. I could see that he has small gold rings through his nipples.
"Good morning," he said. "Mr. Groth told me to come down and help you with breakfast. I don't want to just take over, so tell me what you need."
I looked at the bullet points I'd written on the white board then said, "I was going to make waffles to welcome Mr. Groth back from vacation. Can you cut the strawberries while I start the waffles? And if you finish, we need to juice some oranges and make coffee. I already have the bacon frying."
"Your pretty efficient, Dylan," he said with a smile as he started cutting the strawberries.
"Thank you sir," I said, automatically.
Cory chuckled and said, "Oh no. Don't call me sir. I suspect we're the same, both hopelessly in love with and submissive to a powerful Groth man."
I blushed a little and replied, "Yes. I am ... so that makes us what?"
"Slaves," he replied. "Slaves to passion, slaves to lust, slaves to the power and authority of our men."
"I am Kurt's slave," I blurted out before I could lose courage. "For real, not as a joke or a metaphor. I gave myself to him and I would do anything he demanded."
Cory finished cutting the strawberry he was working on, then put down the knife. He looked over at me and said, "And I'm Roger's slave. I have been from the first moment I heard his powerful voice. It just sent a thrill through me and something deep inside responded to him. That was nearly twelve years ago, and I haven't stopped responding to his voice in all that time."
"But are you really his slave, like I am Kurt's slave? Does he own you?" I asked, my curiosity causing me to pry into all the private details of his life.
"Honey, I am totally Roger's slave, in ways you can't follow until you turn eighteen," he explained, ticking the points off on his fingers. "We share a bank account, but I'm only allowed to use it in emergencies or when doing the shopping. I changed my last name to match Roger's. He holds financial and medical power of attorney over me."
The thought of Kurt having that much control over me caused my body to shiver and my cocklet to jump, but it didn't get to the heart of what I wanted to know. Cory was a fellow slave like me, but he was also my uncle, and he was a lot older than me. It felt strange to pry into his personal life, but I felt like I needed to know. Were Kurt and I weird or were there others who had the same relationship?
"Does he ... I mean, who's in charge of your body?" I asked, my body blushing deep pink.
"Oh Dylan! As an adult, I probably shouldn't be having this conversation with you," he replied. "However, you probably need some guidance at this point in your life, so I will do my best to answer your questions. Roger is completely in charge. He decides when and if I'm allowed to have an orgasm, and how I get to have it. He decided that he wanted my body hair removed, so I go to the salon and get regular wax treatments. He determines how I wear my hair, how I dress and everything else. It's strange, but it's what I want."
I nodded and said, "Me too. I want Kurt to control everything about me. I like the feeling of him owning me and taking charge. He even tells me what I can eat."
Cory gave me a hug and said, "Dylan, we are like twins born twelve years apart. I don't think we could be more alike."
The two of us finished breakfast and had it ready for the men when they came to the table. Cory didn't eat any bacon, and I just had my smoothie because there was no way I could count the calories in the waffles, and I was afraid of eating too much. Cory and I didn't eat with them. We stood ready to refill their coffee and orange juice, like waiters. We ate later, after we'd cleared the table and cleaned both the dishes and the kitchen.
After our work was done, we went into the living room and knelt before our respective masters.
"It's eerie," Steven said.
Mr. Groth responded, "I know. They look like brothers, the same height, the same build, the same coloration."
"And they both have a need to serve their men," Kurt added, tousling my hair.
Steven laughed. "It's not just them. It's you two. Not only are you both guys looking for submissive slaves to serve you, but you both managed to find the same guy. Sure, they have their differences, but they look alike, and they act alike. It's like you two are the same, and I'm the odd man out. I'm the only Groth in this house without my own Morgan-Lundgren slave."
Kurt snorted and said, "We could help you get Donnie."
Steven threw a pillow at him and said, "No thank you! I wouldn't touch that one with your giant mutant dick."
I had my head bowed so I didn't see it, but I knew that Mr. Groth must have given him the look because he meekly said, "Sorry, Dad."
Cory
Steven and Kurt went outside to throw the football around, and Dylan went in the kitchen to make some lemonade. When I was his age, I avoided athletic activities like the plague, and it looked like Dylan and I had this in common as well. Of course, I had learned to appreciate some athletic activities, not that I'd had any choice in the matter. Roger had told me to exercise, and I'd started exercising.
"Looks like the boys are occupied, Cory, so let's go upstairs for a while," Roger whispered in my ear.
Even twelve years later, his hands running across my flesh could send shivers down my spine. My cock swelled to its full size, a little under five inches. I'd always been small in the dick department and from what I'd heard, Dylan took after me in that way too. I let myself melt into Roger's strong arms. He made me feel weak but loved in his embrace, like I was his submissive little wife. The only thing missing from that picture was a child. For the briefest of moments, I imagined that Dylan was the son I' never had. He and I, father and son, in love with a pair of powerful men, also father and son.
"Yes sir," I said, my excitement clear in my voice.
Then I stood up and walked up the stairs. Roger walked after me. He always walked behind me because he liked to watch me walk upstairs. I'd heard Dylan calling Kurt "master". Roger and I had been back and forth over the properly respectful terms I should use with him, and he'd finally decided on "sir". That way I used the same words whether we were alone or in public. However, he'd ordered me to be consistent in proper bowing, kneeling and other slave positions while I was here this time. It didn't bother me at all; I'd always enjoyed showing him the respect he deserved, but we'd both gotten sloppy over the years. And he'd never let me bow or kneel to him while we were here before.
When we entered his bedroom, Roger growled at me, "Lose the shorts, boy. Let me see your sexy ass."
I took my shorts off and placed them on top of the dresser. I was only wearing a jockstrap, so my ass cheeks were bare and neatly framed for display. The jock had a small stretchy pouch, so you could see my package clearly despite its small size. I didn't turn toward him because he'd asked to see my ass. I knew that it was tight. I did a lot of exercises specifically to keep it firm and round. I tightened the muscles to put it on better display.
"Damn, you're sexy!" Roger growled.
"I don't know about that," I said. "With all this young testosterone hanging around this place, I feel kind of old."
I was only thirty, so I was joking. Okay, I was joking a little. Call me a gay stereotype if you will, but my thirtieth birthday had been the worst day of my life since getting kicked out of the house. I was always looking in the mirror for the first wrinkle, or the first gray hair, or the first hint of baldness.
"You're just fishing for compliments, slave boy," he growled. "You look just as good as the day I first saw you there in that cheap suit staring at your feet, so nervous that you jumped at every shadow. You were the first thing I'd seen in nearly six months that made me smile. That's when I knew that I wanted you. That's who I see every time I look at you, and twenty years from now, you'll still look like that beautiful boy to me."
He wrapped one powerful arm around me from behind and rubbed my naked butt with the other. I could feel his hard cock pressing against my side. He'd already fucked me once before breakfast, but I knew where this was headed. I moaned a little and leaned my head back against his shoulder. I also spread my legs a little to make sure he understood how much I wanted him again. He kissed my neck and ran his rough fingers up and down my crack.
"You pretty little pink hole is twitching. Does that mean you want your master inside you again? I just fucked you, and still you want more?" he said as he teased my hole with his fingers.
"Yes sir. My pussy wants to feel your cock inside it," I replied with a sigh. "You fill me up and make me complete."
"Your sexy ass was made to take my cock," he said as he shoved a finger in my mouth to get it wet.
I moaned loudly when he shoved that finger inside me. "Yes sir! Please take me now."
He added a second finger and began thrusting in and out. I was already slippery because of the combination of lube and the seed remaining from the last time he'd taken me. I pressed back against his fingers and spread my legs farther apart.
"You are hungry for it; aren't you?" He asked. "What will you do for me, if I give you what you want?"
"I'll do anything you ask, sir," I replied.
"You already do anything I order you to do," he said. "What else will you do?"
"You can spank me, sir," I replied.
"Were you a bad boy? Do you deserve a spanking?" he asked, all the while continuing to fuck me with his fingers. He was touching all the right spots and my dick was leaking.
"It doesn't matter, sir. Whether I've been bad or good, you can always spank me," I cried.
"A soft and gentle spanking, or a hard spanking that will leave a mark?" he asked.
He knew what his words were doing to me. I loved the feeling of my sexy master beating my ass. "Hard sir, so hard that my ass is red for a week, so hard that I have trouble sitting."
Roger spun me around and pushed me back against the dresser so he could get to my nipples. They were hard and pointed in his direction. He'd gotten them pierced seven years ago and I wore small rings in them. He liked to lick them and to bite them. He knew exactly how hard I liked it, and then he always went just a little bit further just to remind me who was in charge.
Roger's hands slid down to my thighs and he pulled my legs up so that they were wrapped around his waist. I encircled his neck with my arms, and he kissed my lips, biting them hard enough to make me gasp. I loved that he was bigger than me and strong enough to pick me up and hold me.
"I need to fuck you now. Your spanking will have to wait," he said. "Besides, we forgot the paddle, the crop, the tawse and the other tools at your apartment."
I could feel his hard cock rubbing against my hole. He moved me back and forth across his cock until I could feel the head pressing against my hole. Roger had a lot of experience fucking, and I had a lot of experience getting fucked by him. I took a deep breath and relaxed enough to let him lodge right inside my hole. Then he pulled me down and thrust upward with his massive cock at the same time.
"I wish I could just stay here with you now that boys know about us, sir," I moaned, pushing down on him.
"I want that, too, baby. Don't you think I want to be able to slide inside your hot little ass any time the urge takes me?" he asked. "It kills me to be away from you, but I can't take care of Dylan like I promised you I would, if your sister won't let him come over anymore because you're here."
"I know that, sir. It's just a fantasy," I said wistfully.
"Maybe I'll buy a second set of playthings for when we're here, just like I keep that paddle locked up in my office," he teased.
That made me moan even louder. I don't want to imply that it was easy. Roger's cock was big, about nine inches in length and extremely thick, just a little more than two inches in width. He was more than twice my length and about exactly twice my width. But he'd been fucking me for almost a dozen years, and I'd learned a trick or two. Between all the cum and lube already in my ass and the many years I'd practiced relaxing and contracting my hole, he made it inside me without too much pain on my part and without too much effort on his. I moaned loudly when his pubic hair rubbed against my cheeks.
"Now my little slave boy is full of cock," he said. "Does that make you happy?"
"Yes sir!" I replied, "deliriously, amazingly, unbelievably happy."
Roger started lifting me up and lowering me down on his cock. Despite living the life of a business owner who was forced to sit at a desk more often than he'd like, my man had a powerful physique. I got hard every time I saw his broad, sculpted chest and powerful biceps, even when they were covered by a suit. He was five inches taller than me and about forty pounds heavier, and most of that was muscle.
I was moaning and whimpering because his cock knew all the secret places inside me that could bring out the sex crazed male nympho in me. I was so close to orgasm that I knew I wouldn't last much longer, but I wanted us to cum together. I'd learned over the years to massage his cock with my ass. I clamped down tight on his cock as he was lifting me up, and relaxed when he lowered me back down. And Roger knew how to fuck. He never missed a beat. He'd lift me up until only the head of his cock was inside me and then slam me against his hips hard enough to make me sing.
I kept expected him to cover my mouth with his hand to shut me up. In my apartment he loved to hear all the noises he forced out of me, but he'd always been so careful to keep the noise down when we were here. Him being completely out to his kids was doing wonders for our sex life.
"I'm going to seed you deep, slave boy," he said through gritted teeth. "I'm going to fill you with my seed and make you pregnant. Do you want to have my babies, boy?"
"Fuck me, yes!" I cried. "I want you to fill me full of your babies, sir!"
It was a contest. I was trying to make him cum before he could fuck an orgasm out of me. It didn't happen too often. He was better at his job than I was at mine. My skin was hot and flushed, covered in sweat, and every inch of it felt alive. My hole was tingling, and my cock was throbbing. I could feel it oozing cum already. I wasn't going to explode this time. I could tell. My orgasm took the form of several involuntary convulsions in my hole accompanied by what felt like hot flashes. With each thrust of his cock inside me, muscles across my body would tighten and then relax and I would feel another spurt of cum ooze out of me.
I was panting and gasping, letting out little high-pitched noises. "Uh ... uh ... uh, fuck me hard, sir! I'm cumming!"
"Do it, Cory. Spill your little boy seed. Show daddy how much you like it!" he grunted.
When he called himself daddy, it sent shivers through my body. Roger grabbed me tighter. I could feel him swelling inside me. He lifted me up and slammed me down. Then he held me there, with his cock buried all the way to the hilt inside me as he growled, "I cumming now, boy. Take my load, you sexy little bitch; take all my seed!"
When he'd finished, he carried me over to the bed and fell on top of me with his dick still buried inside me. The weight of his body was better than the compression blanket I still used sometimes when he wasn't there. The feeling of being smashed against the firm mattress, his sweaty body atop mine, was more than I could have dreamed of twelve years ago.
At first he was just a powerful man trying to put the grief of his dead wife behind him, and I was just a little gayling who needed a strong hand to keep him in line. I was still in emotional shock from being betrayed by my sister and her husband and being thrown out of the house. It began as catharsis, turned into lust and passion and then one day we realized we were in love.
He pulled out of me with an audible pop, and I clenched my hole closed to hold his seed inside me. Roger moved up and placed his cock against my lips. I opened my mouth and cleaned him from tip to root. I was overwhelmed with emotion, and I felt like that eighteen-year-old boy again, quivering at his boss's touch. Tears came to the corners of my eyes. Roger lay down beside me and pulled me into the crook of his arm. He kissed my eyes and asked, "Is something wrong, baby?"
He was my master, and I was his slave, but we were so much more. He was daddy and I was his boy. He was my emperor, and I was his consort. He was my god, and I was his worshipper. In every way but the legal way he was my husband, and I was his wife.
I took a deep breath and replied, "No sir. Nothing's wrong, sir. It's just that this is the first time we've done it here and I haven't felt like you were hiding me."
Roger twirled his finger in the pool of cum on my abdomen, then stuck it in my mouth. I sucked it clean. Then he did it again.
"I was never ashamed of you, Cory. You know that don't you?" he asked.
I shrugged and replied, "I guess so, sir."
He shoved the last bit of my cum into my mouth for me to swallow. He always insisted that any cum, his or mine that wasn't already inside my body go in my mouth. Then he pulled me on top of him and ran his hands down my back while he kissed my face.
"I was hiding you, Cory," he explained. "I was hiding you from the boys because I wanted them to come to understand their own sexuality without me influencing them. I was hiding you because I wanted to be able to take care of Dylan. God knows his parents weren't doing it, and you know how they hated you. I was hiding you because ... dammit, I just wasn't secure enough myself to acknowledge you in public. But I was never ashamed of you. You're the best thing that happened to me after my wife died, and maybe even the best thing since Kurt was born."
"I love you, sir, and I wish that I really could have babies for you," I said.
"Don't! Don't say that, Cory," he said. "That's just sexy talk. I lost Michelle when she was carrying our daughter. Even if it were possible, I wouldn't want to risk you like that. I couldn't take it if something happened to you. You're ... you're my heart. If anything happened to you, it would be too much. It would destroy me."
"Did you mean what you said earlier, sir?" I asked, changing the subject.
"What did I say?" he asked, brushing my longish hair out of my eyes.
"You said that you planned to marry me after Kurt graduated, sir. Did you mean that?" I asked in turn.
He kissed my sweaty forehead and replied, "I did. I've been planning on making you mine for real ever since the courts made it legal. I just don't want to cause Kurt any trouble at school. You know how this town is."
"I do want to be your ... wife," I said with a questioning tone, "but I don't want you to have trouble at church or with your business, sir."
"You'll be my husband in public, but you'll still be my little slave boy at home," he said. Then he swatted my butt and added, "But you don't worry about it. I'm a very traditional man in my own way and I'll be making the decisions and doing the worrying. I think my business will survive. Where else will folks around here get their cars or their farm equipment. They aren't going to want to drive too far when they can get a good deal right here in town. Maybe I'll have a month-long sales event and remind everyone how good I've been for the community."
"Yes sir," I said. "I'll leave the thinking to you."
He swatted my butt again and growled, "And don't forget it again, boy!"
Then he laughed and kissed my lips. He wasn't looking to have sex again so soon, so he wasn't rough. He was gentle but demanding, never letting me forget that he was the man in our relationship. We cuddled for a while. He found a stray hair on my thigh and plucked it out. It was time for me to make another appointment for waxing.
His fingers played across the long-healed brand he'd put on my ass back in our wilder and more edgy days. "Don't let the boys see this, even by accident," he said. "Steve will think I'm a monster and Kurt will start getting ideas. I don't want him to jump into anything that would hurt Dylan too much."
I playfully slapped his chest with mock outrage. "That didn't stop you from branding me, sir. You didn't care about hurting me too much."
"Bullshit!" he teased. "You loved it. I think you wanted it more than I did."
"Mm," I replied. "You're probably right, sir. Dylan's not me. When you branded me, it felt like I really belonged to you. At the time, I felt worthless. That brand you're rubbing right now made me feel like I might be worth something after all."
Roger took a deep breath and let it out noisily. "You were never worthless, baby. You were a precious gift that your family was too stupid to understand. When I first took you in and made you mine, you cried a lot. You pretended it didn't matter to you, but I knew that it did. Do you remember what I promised you?"
I had to think hard about it. It was a long time ago. I'd been crying in his arms, thanking him for fucking me. He'd said that my family wasn't good enough for me, especially my sister and her husband. He'd told me that I was his now and that he always protected what was his. Then he said ...
"You told me that one day you were going to make them pay for what they did, sir," I muttered.
Roger took hold of my cheeks with both hands and kissed me again. Then he said, "I never forget my promises. It took me several years to get onto the church council, and it's taken me a couple more to get access to the financial records, but I'm going to expose all Craig Morgan's embezzlement and all his dirty secrets. I even hired a private investigator to track down some of the expenses. He has a gambling problem, a big one. He used church funds to pay for quiet and very expensive rehab for your sister, not just once but three times. He's crooked and he's a mess. When I'm ready, I'm going to expose him, humiliate him publicly and ruin him."
"Good!" I said with more anger than I thought I still had in me after twelve years. "Good, sir. He forced himself on me and then blamed it all on me. He's the reason my family threw me out. They valued him more than me because I was gay, and he was just a pathetic closet case who was willing to pretend. I hate him, sir. The only thing that would be better would be if he would be outed for what he is."
Roger stroked my back to calm me down. He waited for my breathing to come back to normal, then he said, "Do you mean that it would be better if we could prove that he spent church funds on underage boy prostitutes when he was at that religious conference in Prague three years ago? Or that he's sometimes seen trolling certain streets in Indianapolis when he's there on business, picking up underage boys and taking them to seedy motels?"
I looked him in the eyes and excitedly asked, "Are you saying you have proof, sir?"
He smiled at me and said, "For Prague, yes. For Indianapolis? I'm waiting for better pictures next time he goes there. We're going to get him, baby. I always keep my promises. I told the investigator that I wanted pictures of him with a certain boy he likes up there, a certain teenage boy with curly red hair who's already admitted to the investigator that he's been with Craig."
"He's seeing an underage boy who looks like his nephew Kieran?" I asked.
Roger smiled and smacked my ass hard. "You forgot the `sir', boy," he said. "Since you're excited, I'll let that lapse slide without a real spanking for now. It might play better worse for him actually to pretend the boy looks like Kieran, but he really looks like Kieran's father did when he was a teen. I always thought that Kenneth was skittish around his brother."
"Thank you, sir," I said. "I love you, and I'm lucky that you're here to take care of me."
Roger slid me down to the crook of his arm again. I lay there running my hands through his sexy blond chest hair. Roger was a good-looking man for his age. Hell, he was a damn sexy man for any age. His skin was darker than mine, but so was everyone's but mine and Dylan's. His hair was dark, reddish blond and he had strong features, a square masculine jaw, a large but well-shaped nose and hazel eyes.
His boys were an almost perfect blend of him and their mother. I'd never met Michelle, but I'd seen pictures of her. She was a powerful and beautiful black woman with classic African features, full lips, dark skin, and tight curly hair.
I was so different from her that I was surprised that he'd fallen in love with me. It wasn't just that we were so different physically. I'd asked him once if she'd been submissive like me. He'd laughed and said that no one was submissive like me, but then he told me stories about how powerful and independent she'd been. I'd doubted his feelings for years, but I didn't doubt him anymore. Laying in his arms, I felt safe, secure, and loved.
Dylan
Sunday morning came and my stomach was filled with dread. We didn't have long before church, and then I had to go home, back to my dad's anger, to Donny's bullying and Tommy's ... well, it was still bullying event though he was younger than me. All that combined with mom's drunken indifference made home the most stressful place in my life.
I'd brought a suit to wear to church and last night I'd ironed it along with Kurt and Steven's suits. Cory ironed Roger's even though he wasn't welcome in dad's church. Kurt was adjusting my tie and brushing my hair out of my eyes.
"You'll be fine, Dylan. Trust dad to make everything work out. I can't tell you not to get sick to your stomach, but I'm ordering you not to make yourself throw up, and not to hurt yourself," he said.
He knew that I never cut myself, but I sometimes beat my arms against tables or poked myself with whatever was at hand. I didn't know why I did it, but the more stress I felt, the more I felt compelled to hurt myself. It wasn't as good as feeling Kurt's arms around me, but it helped me to feel something. Even when we were kids, he'd often comforted me with a hug. I was going to try and follow his order when it came to throwing up, but my mom was a terrible cook, and she only knew how to make food that sat in my stomach like a brick. I hated feeling full and I was always miserable until I went into the bathroom and made myself throw it up.
Kurt pulled me tight to his chest and kissed my temple. "Don't forget what I'm telling you, slave boy. You're my slave and anything you do reflects on me. If you're disobedient and self-destructive, it makes me look like a bad master," he said.
"Yes master," I replied.
I knew that his logic was flawed, just like I knew that he was only saying these things to try and get me to take care of myself. He wasn't being domineering. He was being sweet and concerned. We went downstairs and Kurt had me load all my bags into the trunk of his car. Cory my uncle! came out and gave me a hug.
"Take care of yourself, Dylan. Don't let them get you down. I'm going to send you my number and my address. If you ever need me for anything, anything at all, you let me know. I'm not afraid of your mom and dad anymore," he said.
Then he brushed my hair back and kissed my forehead. "I'm so glad that you're in my life now," he said, "but don't forget that your mom will lose her shit if she finds out that we're talking these days."
"She's a bitch and she hates me," I said.
Cory sighed and said, "Yes, she is, Dylan. I've wrestled with my feelings for her for years. But she's had a rough life, too. When I was younger, she was good to me. She took care of me like she was my mother because she was fourteen years older than me. Even after she married your dad, she was good to me until she wasn't."
"She started hating you after she caught dad kissing you?" I asked.
"It started before that. I think Bethany married your dad to get out of the house. Believe it or not, our father made yours seem like the best dad in the world. I don't think she was really in love with him, but Craig was hers. But once I turned twelve, your dad started paying me a lot of attention. She knew I was gay. It wasn't like I was ever good at hiding it. I think she hated the fact that her husband seemed to prefer me. Then she caught him kissing me. I don't think she ever thought that it was my fault, no matter what she said at the time. I think she was hurt that her husband wanted me more than he wanted her," he explained.
I nodded but replied, "I get that, but she hates me. She's always hated me."
"Honey, you look just like me. The older you got, the more you looked like me. I'll bet she was watching your dad like a hawk, afraid that he would prefer you to her as well. She should have been holding you tight and trying to protect you from her husband, but instead, she probably blamed you for looking like the guy he'd tried to fuck while she was pregnant," he explained.
"She's a bitch, but she has some reason to be that way," he added.
"Fine," I said, wiping the tears from my eyes.
I had to get my emotions under control. If dad, Donny, or Tommy saw me crying they'd make my life even more miserable than it was. I had to put on my emotional armor and bury myself inside it. I had to swallow everything that made me who I was and pretend to be above it all.
Church was the same as it usually was. I sat with the Groths near the back on the left-hand side of the aisle. No one thought anything about us being in the back because Steven was six foot four and no one behind him would be able to see if he sat closer to the front. I was next to Kurt, near the wall. Dad was going on about his usual themes. This time it was abortion and the evils of liberal social policies. He was wrong, of course, but at least I didn't feel like he was staring at me and accusing me with his words like I did when he got on an anti-gay rant.
Mr. Groth attended because this was the church most of his customers attended. Kurt attended for the same reason I did. We were still minors and were expected to be there. I had no idea why Steven bothered to attend. He had a look of distaste on his face during much of the sermon, and he only smiled when Zack Taylor, the organist looked in his direction. I watched the two of them and couldn't believe I'd never noticed them flirting from across the room before. Zach was a good-looking guy with dark brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard and moustache. He looked fit from this angle. He was also the youth minister. I had no idea that he was gay, not until today. Maybe I was just more aware than I had been.
After the collection plate had been passed, Kurt nudged me and whispered "bathroom". I slid out of the pews and headed for the bathroom at the back by the community building. It was never busy until the youth group met. It had only one stall and one urinal, unlike the big bathroom near the Sunday School building. I went into the stall. Not knowing what to do, I dropped my pants and sat on the toilet. Kurt joined me in a few minutes.
"Take off your pants," he ordered.
I was scared shitless. If we were caught here at church, my dad would kill me. But my excitement and my desire to obey my master won out over my fear. My trousers and underwear were already down around my ankles, but I pulled them off completely. I had to remove my shoes to do it. Kurt took my clothes and folded them. Then he placed them on top of the toilet tank.
"Put your feet up in case someone comes in," he said.
Then he unzipped his pants and dropped his own underwear. His huge cock sprang out. He was already half hard. "Suck your master's cock, slave boy," he said.
I opened my mouth and swallowed as many inches as I could. I wrapped one hand around the shaft and used the other to gently fondle his large balls. I used my tongue to tease him to full erection. I wanted to get him off fast so we wouldn't raise suspicions for being in the bathroom so long. I sucked and stroked him while rubbing his cock with my tongue. But Kurt had other ideas.
He pulled three packets of lube out of his pocket and waved them in front of my face. My eyes grew wide, and I was pleading silently with every expression I could muster. Once he was fully erect, he nodded and said, "Oh yes, slave boy. I'm going to fuck you right here in the church bathroom. Next Sunday I may fuck you in your dad's office while the council is meeting. Now get up so I can sit down."
When he pulled out of my mouth, I said, "We can't do it here, sir. We'll get caught."
His only response was to reach down and take my arm so he could pull me into a standing position. "For arguing with me, I'm going to spank your ass right here before I take you, slave boy. Now bend over and grab the toilet seat to balance yourself."
I resigned myself and did what he demanded. The question that ran through my mind was, If I was so afraid of being caught, why was I even harder than I had been before?
Kurt took the belt out of his pants and rubbed my ass with it. He put one hand on the small of my back and then dangled the belt in front of my face. "Kiss the instrument of your discipline, slave boy," he whispered.
I kissed the warm leather with trembling lips. A part of me wanted this, wanted the whole scene, not just the spanking, but the danger of being caught. If Kurt touched my cocklet, it would start spraying the room down with cum. That's how close I was.
Kurt drew back the belt and snapped it across my cheeks hard enough to make a loud crack that resounded throughout the small room. I gritted my teeth and stifled a cry. I didn't want anyone to hear us. The belt hurt a lot more than the paddle he usually used. Then he struck me again. I leaped forward and hit my head on the tile of the wall behind the toilet. Then he struck me another ten times. My ass was burning, and I wondered just how red it was.
"How many was that, slave boy?" he asked.
"Twelve, master," I sobbed.
Sorry, slave boy. That was zero because you didn't count them and thank me," he said. "Now I have to do it all over again."
My heart sank. How could I have been so stupid and forgetful? I knew the rules, but my fear of discovery had driven them out of my mind. I was in the mental zone I called my slave space. It never occurred to me to object to him putting me in this position. It was his right as my master, and I was the one who was wrong for forgetting to follow the rules.
My ass was burning, and I was not looking forward to getting hit with that belt again or was I? My cocklet was still hard and throbbing. I could feel my precum dripping onto my legs. Then he swung that belt again so fast that I swear I heard it whistling through the air. When it hit me, I couldn't speak quietly. I cried out, "One, master! Thank you, master!"
"That's more like it, slave boy," Kurt said.
Then he swung again with even more force. "Two, master! Thank you, master!" I cried again.
"Move your legs apart, slave boy," he demanded.
A chill of fear ran down my spine like ice water. I moved my legs apart and Kurt kept tapping my thighs until I was spread so wide that my feet were next to the walls of the stall. I heard him draw the belt back and then he swung it, not sideways to hit my cheeks (the only muscular part of my body), but between my legs. The leather slammed painfully into my cocklet and balls. I yelled, "Three, master! Thank you, you master!"
Just then, we heard the door opening. Kurt picked me and sat down on the toilet. His lips covered mine to stop the whimpering cries that were coming uncontrollably from deep within me. It hurt so bad. So, why was I still hard and why did I still feel like I was ready to shoot at any time.
Kurt was kissing me roughly, his lips crushing mine. My cocklet throbbed and leaked a steady stream of precum. A deep masculine voice asked, "Are you okay, in there? It sounded like you were in pain."
I recognized the voice. It was Edgar Williams, the technician who controlled the cameras and the microphones that recorded the sermons. My father was trying to get income from shut-ins who couldn't come to church because of disability or illness. He made some money for it, but far less than the equipment had cost the church.
Kurt put his hand over my mouth and replied, "I'm taking a painful dump. It may take a while, so I hope you're not waiting for me."
"Nah, I just need to take a piss," he said. "I'll leave you to it once I'm done."
We heard him urinating loudly into the urinal. Then he washed his hands and left the room. Kurt had been holding his hand over my mouth the whole time, so I hadn't been able to point out the danger we were in. Luckily Mr. Williams didn't seem to notice it.
When Kurt removed his hand, I said fearfully, "My shoes, master. They fell off the back of the toilet. Mr. Williams could have seen them."
One of them was almost outside the stall. If he'd been looking, Mr. Williams would have seen it easily. My feet were so much smaller than Kurt's there was no way he could have thought it had been his. Kurt just laughed.
"You did good, slave boy," he said. "Now I'm going to fuck you."
He handed me one packet of lube and said, "Grease up your ass while I coat my cock."
I tore open the packet and rubbed as much lube into my ass as I could. Kurt applied the other two to his giant cock. Then he pulled me down so that I was straddling his legs facing him.
"I meant to try this out when we were safely at home, but I forgot. I'm going to lift you up and put you on my cock. You'll need to hold me upright until your sitting on me. Then you can put your legs up so no one can see them," he instructed.
I reached back and took hold of his cock and guided it inside me as he pulled me down on him. Riding him this way was second only to him taking me from the front while I lay on my back. I grunted and hissed as my ass slowly swallowed him. As always, he hit the inner sphincter of my rectum with a few inches yet to go. He smiled at me and then pulled me down quickly, pushing past my inner defenses in one painful thrust.
I wrapped my arms around his neck. With a few tears streaming down my cheeks, I said, "Your inside me, master. Please fuck me like the little bitch I am!"
"Demanding little slave boy, aren't you?" he teased.
I started crying for real. "I don't know when I'll get to ride your cock again, master. I don't know how I'm going to endure it. I feel so empty when you're not inside me."
"Shh," he said. Then he kissed the tears from my eyes and added, "I need you, too, slave boy. I'm not going to let you go too long without feeling your warm little slave hole wrapped around my cock."
He kissed my neck as he started lifting me up and letting me fall back down onto him. I moaned in pleasure as he took me. Despite the punishment it had suffered, my cocklet had lost none of its hardness and I was so close to cumming that I feared I would spew at any moment.
Kurt was so much smarter than me. He thought of everything. He unbuttoned both our shirts so that we were bare skin to bare skin. That way we wouldn't make a mess on our clothes when we came. My body was already tingling from head to toe. I could feel the beginnings of an orgasm stirring in my taint and spreading slowly to my ass and cocklet before traveling in waves throughout my body.
"I'm not going to last long, sexy slave boy," Kurt whispered. "There couldn't possibly be a better ass than this one anywhere in the world. I am so fucking happy that I had enough sense to choose you. Are you still happy, Dylan?"
"Yes master," I grunted. "You're all I ever wanted. I'm yours for as long as you'll have me."
"Then I'm never going to let you go, slave boy. I'm going to keep you forever," he said.
There was little time for talk from that point. We were both too close. From the look on Kurt's powerful brown face, I knew that he was going to be seeding me any second. His hands slid to my nipples and pinched them hard, sending a wave of electric pleasure running straight to my balls.
I cried out, "I'm cumming, master!"
And I did. Kurt pushed his cock up my ass as far as he could go and he said, "Take my seed, bitch! Take it so far inside your little slave pussy that you burp cum for a week!"
I fell against him, and he held me tight. We sat there breathing heavily in complete synchronicity for several minutes. When he pulled me off him, I felt a gaping emptiness where his cock used to be. He used his finger to clean his chest and mine. He slowly fed me all the cum that I'd spilled. Then he stood in front of the toilet while I sucked his cock clean of his cum and the remnants of the lube he'd used.
He ran his fingers through my hair and said, "I'm going to fuck you like this at school once we get our schedules figured out. I'm going to fuck you every day if we can make it work. Your ass is mine; don't ever forget it."
"Never, master," I said.
Kurt helped me to my feet and held me steady while I put my clothes back on. Then he adjusted my tie and kissed my lips. "You're my slave, Dylan. I own you from now until eternity, but never forget that I also love you," he said.
I buried my face in his strong chest and said, "I love you too, Kurt I mean, master!"
He kissed my neck and whispered in my ear, "I may have to spank you for that later, slave boy. Or maybe I'll just beat your nuts instead."
My cocklet started to swell again. Kurt ran his hand over my small package and chuckled, "That's what I thought. Now you can't tell me that you didn't enjoy it. You're a needy little slut, but I'm man enough to take care of you."
Roger
I hated everything about Pastor Morgan, from his sad attempts to dominate any group he was with to that fake smile of his. We were standing around the coffee station in the courtyard between the chapel, the Sunday School building, and the community building. The whole council was there waiting for the congregants to depart so we could start the meeting without seeming to be rude. Bethany Morgan was there with some of the other wives as well. I hated her almost as much as her husband. But Cory's feelings on his sister were mixed, and I was in love with him, so my feelings were mixed as well.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kurt and Dylan coming from the back restroom together. I was going to have to talk to Kurt about his risky behavior. If he got caught doing something inappropriate, we'd get past it. But if Dylan got caught, I wouldn't be able to protect him from his father. I didn't blame Dylan. He was a weak boy who needed a strong hand to guide him. He was like his uncle, the love of my life, in that way. Kurt was always going to have to be the man, to be the strong one, in their relationship.
I caught Kurt's attention and gave him the look that he knew so well. He smiled weakly and shrugged. When I didn't smile back, he stopped grinning and nodded. He took his hand off Dylan's shoulder and put a couple of feet between them as they walked in our direction.
I looked at the pastor and said, loud enough for everyone around us to hear, "So, Craig, I offered Dylan a part time job at Groth automotive for this year. It will give him a chance to earn some money to help pay for school or vocational training when he graduates."
Craig snorted and said derisively, "He sure isn't going to get any scholarships with his grades. He'll be lucky to graduate at all."
A couple of Craig's lackies on the council laughed but most of the men had the good grace to look embarrassed at his outburst. I ignored it and smiled. "Steve and Kurt are going to tutor him after school to make sure he graduates. He's not dumb. For some reason he has no self-confidence. He just needs someone to keep him on the right path. Kurt's his best friend so it may as well be him. He's willing to take charge and make sure Dylan does what he needs to. It's going to mean a lot of time at the dealership and then he's going to have to be at our place for tutoring until late. We can feed him. He doesn't eat much."
"Now, he can't be away from home too long. He has responsibilities to take care of, the church to clean and other chores," Craig said.
All the council members were listening intently now. If Craig kept it up, he was going to make a very bad impression on them. He was making it sound like he was standing in the way of his son's success. It was going just as I'd anticipated.
All of us were surprised when Bethany Morgan turned her sour disapproving face our way and said, "Thank you, Roger. Craig and I appreciate all you're doing for Dylan."
She always had that look on her face, but none of us had ever heard her talk back to her husband in any way. She turned to him and said, "Of course Dylan can take the job and he'll be glad to have all the help your boys can give him with his schoolwork. There's no reason you need to have your eyes on Dylan all the time, Craig. He's a young man now."
That look in here eyes meant nothing to the others, but Craig and I understood her meaning, although I doubted that she knew I heard what she was really saying. She seemed angry beneath her dour expression. She must have noticed him looking at Dylan the same way he'd looked at Cory twelve years ago. And Craig Morgan did the unthinkable. He backed down and did what she said.
"Of course. Tommy can clean the church now that Dylan's working. Thank you, Roger," he said grudgingly.
Bethany shot me a look that seemed to say, Take care of my boy, Roger. I nodded at her and then decided to subvert Craig a little more. I looked around at the men and said, "It's time for the meeting, guys. Let's get to the conference room."
They all took my lead and started walking toward the building. Instead of leading, Craig was scrambling to keep up.
Kurt
I was going to hear about it later. Dad was a little angry with me. I knew it was because I was putting Dylan at risk. He treated Steven and me like adults, but he had always babied Dylan. I suspected it was because Dylan looked so much like Cory. Dad couldn't help himself.
As I was walking Dylan to my car to get his bags, I saw Mr. Williams trying to catch my attention, but I ignored him. Whatever he wanted could wait. Mrs. Morgan stopped me. She was arguing with Dylan's brother Tommy.
"I don't want to hear it! You'll be cleaning the church from now on. Dylan has a real job. Get in there and get started. Your dad will drive you home," she said.
I heard him muttering "bitch" behind her back as he stormed off. He'd never had to do anything because he'd always bullied Dylan or Kieran into doing his chores.
Finally turning to me, she said, "I need you to drive me home, Kurt."
"Yes ma'am," I replied.
I looked at Dylan and he looked back at me. Neither of us knew what was up with Mrs. Morgan. She wasn't acting like her normal self. Dylan had to sit in the back seat so his mother could sit up front. The drive home was dominated by an awkward silence. Once there, I helped Dylan carry his bags inside.
"I'll see you tomorrow morning, Dylan. I'll pick you up at 7:00 AM," I said.
Mrs. Morgan said, "If it's not too much trouble, I'll need you to take Tommy to school, too, Kurt."
Dylan whined, "Can't Tommy take the bus, mom?"
She turned that sour face on us again and sighed. I swear, just for a moment, it looked like her scowl was softening. She said, "I don't want to have a fight every morning about getting him to the bus stop by 6:40. He can ride the bus home, but he'll ride to school with you. You boys can spend time doing ... whatever it is you do when I'm not looking ... after school."
She stormed out of the room and went upstairs to her "sewing room". Dylan had told me that's where she kept the whiskey she wasn't supposed to be drinking. I looked at Dylan and he looked back at me. We were alone downstairs. I grabbed him and kissed him. We were still kissing when we heard Mrs. Morgan's voice from upstairs, but we didn't see her.
She called down, "Just go home now, Kurt, please. You two will be able to see one another at your house when you're tutoring Dylan."
"I was just leaving, ma'am," I said. Then I turned to Dylan and said, "Did she just give us permission to do ... whatever ... so long as we didn't do it here?"
He looked at me with wide eyes and said, "I don't know."
I kissed him again and stuck my hands down the back of his pants to finger his slippery hole, but I didn't want to push Mrs. Morgan too far. I let him go and he walked me to the door. His face was the very picture of sadness as I left. I wished I could take him home with me, but I couldn't. During the drive back to the house, my mind kept turning the whole situation over and over. She was sending a message of some kind, but I had no idea what it was.
Steven
It was after 9:00 PM and I was lying on the couch flicking through my social media accounts when I noticed that I had some Facebook notifications. My heart sank when I saw the phrase Kieran Morgan has changed his relationship status. With numb fingers, I followed the link to Kieran's page. It said, in a relationship with Jason Lee.
A chill went down my spine and settled in my stomach when I went to Jason's page. He was a too good looking and too well-dressed Chinese guy with collar length black hair, golden skin, high cheeks, and narrow slanted eyes. I hated him immediately. Kieran had been away from home for only a few weeks. School hadn't even started, and already he had outed himself on the internet and was dating a handsome guy.
I could see plenty of public pictures of Jason with Kieran. None of them were dirty or even risquι, but there he was, his arm wrapped around Kieran's shoulders, kissing him on the cheek. In another picture, he was lying next to my boy on a bed. They were bare chested, but their bottoms were covered by a sheet. Kieran was asleep, snuggled against Jason's chest. And Jason had his arm around him. He had a smile plastered on his face like he knew he was stealing my high school crush. The posts were in Chinese. I let the app translate them for me.
The first one said, "My new roommate is a sexy redhead. I'm going to make him my boy."
The second one said, "He's too small for me, but he's willing to stretch his boundaries to accommodate me."
I was sick to my stomach. I wanted to throw up. This Jason was gorgeous, but Kieran was mine. Did anyone read posts that weren't in English? This guy just said that he was stretching Kieran so he could accommodate him. That meant they were fucking or getting ready to start fucking. Images of Kieran's round ivory butt flashed to mind. I saw a hand stroking those beautiful cheeks, but it wasn't my light brown hand. It was Jason's golden hand with those long fingers of his.
I curled into a ball. I didn't even realize that I was moaning and crying until Kurt came into the room and heard me. He was worried. He rushed to my side and asked, "What's wrong, Bro?"
I just swallowed hard and handed him my phone. He looked at the pictures and said, "Shit! I'm so sorry, Bro. This is ... damn, he moved fast once he got out of this town, but ... is there anything I can do for you?"
I shook my head. Kurt put the phone aside and crawled onto the couch with me. He wrapped his arms around me like he was the older brother and he said, "I know it sucks. Just cry it out."
He didn't say what we were both thinking. This was completely my fault. I should have told Kieran that I was gay, and I should have kissed him when we were in high school, or even middle school. I'd had a lot of opportunities over six years, but I'd been afraid of scaring him off. And he'd been good at deflecting any real closeness. I didn't try to get up. I lay there, waves of vertigo washing over me. I felt like someone had ripped my heart out. I finally sobbed myself to sleep. I lay there, a cold and sweaty mess, while my younger brother comforted me.
Dad found us both like that the next morning; he woke us up and rushed us to get ready before school. I went through the kitchen to wash my face and saw Cory in those sexy little shorts of his. He was making coffee. Kurt and dad must have come into the room to get a cup while I was scrubbing the sweat and salt from my face.
Kurt said, "Kieran came out of the closet, and it looks like he's having sex with his college roommate."
That was it. He'd summarized it perfectly. I was numb when I came out to grab a cup. All three of them were looking at me with sympathy, like they thought I was going to collapse in a sobbing mess. I wasn't sure myself that I wouldn't.
"Are you alright, sir?" Cory asked.
I was taken aback by the `sir'. He'd never called me that before, but his eyes said that he meant it. He thought of me as a man now, not as a child, and he was determined to treat me like one, no matter how childish I felt today. I was more grateful than I could say.
I nodded and lied to, "I'm fine, Cory. Thank you."
"No, you're not," Dad said.
He came over and hugged me. It wasn't the companionly adult hug he usually gave me. It was a tight hug that reminded me that he was my father and that I was his little boy, even if I was four inches taller than him.
"You will be, son," he said. "It's going to take some time, but you're going to be okay."
He sighed and then in his typical dad way, he took charge. "Kurt, go pick up Dylan and that other one and take him to school. Steve, I know you don't have classes until 10:00 AM today and you can attend online if you feel up to it. You and I are going to go out and have some breakfast. We'll drop Cory off at the office on the way so we can have some one-on-one time."
I didn't argue with him. I had prided myself for the last couple of years on my maturity and independence, but today I didn't want to be mature or independent. I wanted to throw a temper tantrum and cry. I wanted my dad, and the most wonderful thing about my dad was that he always knew what we needed and then he gave it to us.
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.
· Edgar William. The sound and video technician at Pastor Morgan's church. He's 35 years old with brown hair. He has an average build.
· 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 red hair and freckles. He joins in with his oldest brother teasing and tormenting Kieran and Dylan.