Date: Sun, 14 May 2006 21:53:43 -0700 (PDT)
From: Hank M <redbeardedsf@yahoo.com>
Subject: Taking Wally to Gaytown, part 6

Taking Wally to Gaytown, part 6
By Master Redbeard
(redbeardedsf @ yahoo.com)


(This story is inspired by Waddie Greywolf, who was himself inspired by
Richard Davis. Greywolf allowed me to read an advance chapter of a story
that is as-yet unpublished. His story is about a fundamentalist Christian
father in Texas who enslaves his sons. My story about a father and his sons
is very different from Waddie's, but it is based in the same universe and
was inspired by reading Waddie's story.)


(This is a fantasy story set in a world in which slavery exists. This story
includes gay sex, some of which happens between an adult man of 18 and
older men. If any of this is offensive to you or if it's illegal to read
such a story in your jurisdiction, go away now. If you have trouble
differentiating between reality and fantasy, do not read this story - go
get help now.)


(CHAPTER SIX is a postscript to the story written more than two years after
the first five chapters.)


How odd. I wrote the story about enslaving my son Wally in nonstop frenzy
of energy on a Sunday night. I never went to sleep till well after sunrise
because I wanted to get it all down on the computer. Then, before I allowed
myself sleep, I sent the story off to the men in my online Christian
father's support group.


I had found the gay sex pictures among Wally's things on Friday afternoon,
had enslaved him that very night, taken him to the Gaytown slave hall in
Capitol City the very next day, and Saturday night I found myself at the
60th birthday party of the very wealthy man who had purchased my newly
enslaved son. By Sunday I felt ashamed of a lot of things I'd done -
especially sticking my penis in Wally's mouth in front of all those homos
at the party. Being a good Christian man I felt ashamed of simply being
around all those queers. But my minister soothed my fears, reminding me
that Wally was a slave and that sex with a male slave did not count as the
sin of homosexuality.


It was in those high spirits that I quickly wrote up my experiences on that
Sunday. I went to sleep with the sunrise and felt for the most part calm
and satisfied. The one thing that most troubled me was how to tell my
younger son, Will, that his older brother had been enslaved. Will was away
on a camping trip with his friend Austin and Austin's dad Bob.


I wasn't expecting Will back home till late Monday night, but midday Monday
I was awakened from my sound sleep by stomping feet on the stairs. I rubbed
my eyes and there was Will at my doorway greeting me. I pulled on a pair of
pants and followed him into his room, fearing that I might have to talk to
him about Wally's enslavement before I was truly ready.


Will seemed oblivious to the disappearance of Wally's possessions from the
room. He tossed his bag on the bed that was nearest the window, then went
to the shelf behind that bed and asked, "Dad, where's my t-shirts?"


"Those were Wally's t-shirts, son. And that's Wally's bed and his shelf."


"Nah, they were high school stuff so Wally wanted me to have them. Didn't
he tell you that him and me switched beds? He's such a good brother. He
figured since he'd only be home on holidays from college I should have the
bed near the window."


I felt a little faint as I quickly approached the shelf where Will was
standing. I looked at the pile of papers, knowing that the gay sex pictures
were still somewhere in that pile. I looked from the papers to my younger
son and said, "But these are Wally's chemistry notes."


Will looked at me as if I was dense. "Yeh. And what does he need his high
school chemistry notes for? I'm gonna be taking chemistry next year, so
Wally gave me his old notes."


My mind was racing. I had enslaved Wally because of the pictures I had
found on this very shelf. I had assumed Wally was queer because there were
gay sex pictures among papers and clothes that I thought belonged to
him. As I looked at Will's face, I felt certain that those pictures
couldn't belong to my younger boy. Will was still too young; his face was
too sweet and innocent. I was rationalizing that the nasty pictures were
Wally's and that Wally had inadvertently left them among papers he gave to
his younger brother.


Just as I was trying to figure out what to say to Will, the phone rang. I
was irritated at the interruption and gruff when I answered the phone. It
was my old friend, Bob, the father of Will's friend, Austin, the man who
had taken both boys on the camping trip. I told him I was busy and couldn't
speak, but he was insistent. He said I had to come to his house just two
blocks away. My brain was too befuddled to talk to anyone right then, but
Bob kept insisting. I'd never heard him use that tone of voice before. I
told Will I'd be back soon and he said he'd be taking a shower and then a
nap.


I was at Bob's house in less than five minutes and greeted him with, "This
had better be important." He told me he had found something that prompted
him to come home six hours early and then he led me into the kitchen where
Austin sat looking down at the table, his face red and tear stained. Bob
held a pile of pictures in front of my face - the same sort of throw-away
instant camera pictures I had found in my sons' room. I was stunned. I
could scarcely breathe.


The first few pictures showed Austin's penis erect - some from the side and
some looking up at the organ. Then there was a picture, obviously taken by
Austin, aiming down at his own penis and showing a boy's head at his
crotch. I recognized the hair color. I recognized the haircut. The next
picture showed my son Will smiling up at the camera, Austin's penis in his
mouth.


I collapsed into a chair. I was wishing that the Lord would take me right
at that moment. But of course it was not my time to leave this world
because I had things I needed to make right.


The silence was finally broken by Austin's reedy voice. "I keep telling
you, Pa, I ain't the queer one. Will is the one been sucking off all the
boys. Any boy who wants to get sucked, they have to let Will take a picture
of their boner. I didn't do no sucking, Pa. I didn't even touch his homo
prick. He's the one. Everybody knows Will sucked off almost every boy on
the high school swim team."


Words were floating in my head as I tried to make sense of what I just
heard. I looked right into Austin's face and he cowered back from me. But I
just asked, "Almost every boy on the swim team? How many boys didn't he
suck off?"


Austin was obviously surprised by my question. He looked back down at the
table and mumbled, "Well, everybody always knows that Wally is so upright
and religious, he's the only one who wouldn't put his pecker in Will's
mouth." I couldn't speak as I tried to process that and the youngster
continued, "Wally knew about the things his younger brother did and he just
always said that he prayed for Will. You can ask Wally yourself if what I'm
telling you is true. You know Wally would never tell a lie, sir."


I thought about the way Wally had protested just two days earlier,
insisting that he was not gay. And then when he was stripped for sale in
the Gaytown slave hall, as the Major groped his young body, still insisting
that he was straight. Yes, indeed, Wally would never tell a lie.


The process of enslaving Will is a blur. The one thing I can tell you is
that when his naked body was being handled by the sheriff, Will clearly
seemed to be enjoying it. When the sheriff's fingers felt around Will's
butthole, the boy was moaning and there was jizz dripping from his erect
penis. Indeed, this was the son who was meant to be a gay sex slave.


In addition to calling Rev. Flick, Sheriff Taylor and Ace Brady, I also
phoned the Major, who was kind enough to drive all the way from Capitol
City and meet us at the sheriff's office. The Major said he was just
packing and preparing for a trip to his Florida estate, and he'd be taking
along his newest slave, Wally.


I was surprised by the Major's curious reaction to Will. He remarked about
how cute and desirable Will was, but didn't think he'd be interested in
purchasing the younger boy. He reminded me that he had said he had no
interest in buying gay slaves. Still he touched Will all over, rubbing the
boy's nipples, playing with his penis, and fingering his
butthole. Throughout this, there was a terrified look in Will's eyes and he
was shaking his head.


The Major asked permission to remove Will's gag and to allow the slave to
speak. As the Major was doing this I said to my younger son, "I don't know
what you're making a fuss about. You admitted you're a homo, you want sex
with guys and the Major here likes young guys like you..."


"But Dad, sir," Will quickly blurted out. "I'm only turned on by young guys
like in high school or college. I don't want to do stuff with an old
guy. Plus, I only did stuff with my mouth. I don't want anybody to do stuff
up my butt."


The Major then took me aside, said he had rethought how nice it would be to
unite the two brothers, and offered $80,000 for Will. "That will make an
even $200,000 for both brothers together. They'll look nice as a set."


"No, no, Major, you don't understand my intent," I said. "I want to make a
trade and give you Will in place of Wally. If you say Will is worth $80,000
to you then I'd give you back $40,000 from what you paid for Wally. And
we'd simply trade boys so you'd have the queer one."


The rich man shook his head and started to storm off, saying I had wasted
his time. I followed him out to the parking lot and he was complaining that
the only reason he wanted Will was so he'd have the two brothers
together. "Besides," he turned to me and snapped. "At Will's age I'm not
even allowed to use him for sex."


Up till that time I had been always courteous and respectful to the Major,
but now my voice took on an edge as I said, "Major, sometimes you city folk
think that because I didn't go to a big university I don't know anything at
all. I know about the new law in Florida, sir. And I know what you're
allowed to do... in Florida..." I faltered a little bit, not sure how to
word this and then my voice petered out with, "in Florida... with a
boy... a boy of Will's age."


He grinned broadly as he offered his hand and an apology. Rev. Flick had
followed us out to the parking lot and now urged both of us to come back
inside and let him act as mediator. I finished off a cup of coffee before
the minister reported on his conversation with the wealthy man. The Major
offered the same $80,000 for Will, with a provision that he would return
Wally to me in three months time, at which time I would return $100,000 to
the Major. It would be the equivalent of the Major paying $20,000 to rent
Wally for three months.


"B-but, now that I know Wally isn't queer... to leave him there with those
men... doing those things..." A chill ran up my spine at the thought. But
the reverend assured me it was the right thing to do. He said something
about the Lord sending us tests. He reminded me that a slave did his duty
in spite of his own preferences. And he was philosophical about the fact
that Wally had already performed these perverse sex acts - he would likely
only do more of the same. We said a prayer together and I signed the
papers.


Just as the Major was getting ready to leave with Will, Bob's beat-up old
pickup truck came rattling in. Austin was hogtied with clothesline in the
back of the truck and he was shouting up a storm. "You filthy bastard, I
told you I ain't never done nothing with any guys except letting Will suck
my dick. The one who gets sucked off ain't the homo."


Bob didn't even wait to get inside. Right there in the parking lot, we
helped hold Austin down as the boy got stripped by his own father. The
Major ran his hands all over Austin, paying special attention to his dick
and his ass. If the boy hadn't been gagged, he looked like he would've spit
at the Major for the indignities.


As Ace Brady was getting the paperwork in order, the Major offered Bob
$60,000. Without any negotiating, Bob stuck out his hand and the two men
shook on the deal. Since he had to wait for Austin's enslavement, the Major
chatted with me. He explained that he had a lot of parties planned for the
summer and that having Wally and Will together would be fun for his
guests. In my brain I kept on repeating, "They'll be serving drinks," and
tried not to think of the queer sex acts they'd be expected to
perform. Then he also explained that his friend, Warren, had just purchased
a house down the road from his own estate in Florida. The Major would
deliver Austin the slave as Warren's housewarming present.


During the three months I waited for Wally, I saw Rev. Flick for counseling
at least three times a week. I talked about my feelings as a father and we
talked together about the Bible. Paying for these counseling sessions ate
into the profits I'd made selling my sons, but I felt I needed the
reverend's wisdom. I also read many books about owning and caring for
slaves including "The Christian Slavemaster" and "Cruel to be Kind" both
recommended by the Rev. Flick. But I never responded to any of the messages
from my online Christian father's support group. After sharing the story of
Wally's enslavement with these men I wasn't prepared to explain the ensuing
events.


The slave transport service delivered Wally to me totally naked except for
his collar, handcuffs attached to the collar, and leg shackles that limited
his steps. When the deliverymen left I undid the slave's cuffs and he
startled me by trying to put his arms around me and calling out, "Daddy, I
knew you'd..." Before he could get out another word I had touched my slave
prod to one of his nipples - he was writhing on the floor his limbs
shaking.


I looked down at the pathetic figure on the floor and said, "I had
understood you were a well-trained slave. That outburst makes me think
otherwise. On your knees, boy. And aren't you going to thank your master
for the correction."


He stumbled to his knees, his head bowed, and recited, "Thank you, master,
for offering correction to this humble slave." Then he lowered his head and
kissed each of my shoes, raising his round butt up in the air. Apparently,
the Major had kept Wally naked on his Florida estate as the boy's flesh had
a golden tan including his formerly white cheeks.


Looking down at Wally in that position I reconfirmed what a handsome lad he
was. His body looked even better than before he was enslaved. His muscles
had a little more fullness and there wasn't an ounce of fat to be seen on
his lean frame. As the slave was kissing my boots, my penis was reacting,
getting thicker and longer in my jeans.


"Slave," I said, getting his attention. Then I just tapped my finger
against the tent in the front of my pants. He reached his hand to my zipper
but I slapped it away and said, "With your mouth, boy. I want to see how
well you've been trained."


Wally grabbed my zipper with his teeth and lips and worked it down. The
movement of his adorable face was making my cock throb as he worked to get
it out of my pants. When my cock popped free I whispered, "Worship it,
Wally." His tongue snaked out of his mouth and he followed my command
superbly. He licked down the length of my penis, then rolled his tongue
around the head before taking the full length into his mouth. He did
something that felt like he was massaging my cock with his throat muscles.


I thought back to the last blowjob I had gotten from this boy. At that time
he was struggling as men held him down across a table, his clothes in
tatters. Although I didn't believe his claims of innocence when it happened
I now knew that I had indeed been the first penis in his mouth. My spunk
had been the first he ever swallowed.


Now I had a well-trained cocksucker on his knees swallowing down the length
of my hard penis. I grabbed onto Wally's ears and started to fuck his
mouth. My broad cockhead was ramming the back of his throat again and
again. It was amazing. The boy had no trouble at all taking that rough
mouth fucking. I couldn't last long and soon I grabbed the back of his
head, pressing him close to me as my cock pulsed rivers of semen down his
throat.


As soon as I pulled my cock from his mouth I had a list of chores for him
to do the rest of the day. It's important to let a slave know he will be
expected to work hard. Wally stayed naked as he laid out rocks for the new
stone pathway in the backyard. I sat on the back porch enjoying a beer as I
watched him and was soon joined by Rev. Flick who couldn't get over how
fine Wally looked. Unabashedly, the man of God asked, "Have you been in
that fine slave ass yet?" I told him how much I had enjoyed Wally's mouth
and how well trained my son was. When I saw the look in Flick's eyes, I
nodded for him to take Wally into the garage. I heard a series of smacks
and grunts from the garage. Less than five minutes later, the minister came
out of there with a broad smile, dragging Wally by his slave collar.


I saw that Wally's face was glowing bright red and he seemed to be in
pain. I asked, "Did the boy do something wrong? Why did you have to slap
him?"


Rev. Flick chuckled to himself and said, "It always gives my manhood an
extra tingle to be slapping or spanking when I seek my release. I was quite
expert with a whip and cane in my younger days."


Wally went back to work. I then brought him into the kitchen to prepare my
steak and baked potato. I poured a generous bowl of slave chow for him on
the floor beside my feet and I insisted he eat it the correct way, with his
mouth and no hands. Just because this boy was once my son I was not going
to slack on my expectations of him as a slave.


The broom closet off the pantry was converted into a room for the slave. It
was wide enough for a thin mattress and, since slaves have no possessions,
the space did not have to accommodate anything else. But for the first
night he would not have to sleep in his little room. I snapped a leash to
his collar and brought him to my bedroom.


I wish I could tell you that the first time I fucked Wally that night was
sensual and leisurely and memorable. But I guess I had too much
anticipation. I ended up tossing the boy belly down on the bed and rammed
my cock into him. He whimpered as I fucked quickly in and out. In less than
three minutes I was filling the boy with spunk.


That had been the first time in my life I ever fucked a guy's
ass. Actually, it was the first time I had ever fucked any ass. I was in
ecstasy by the way his cheeks were soft and yet firm, and the way my balls
pressed into him when I thrust forward. When that first time was over, I
wondered how I had deprived myself of this fantastic pleasure for so long,
and I was ready to fuck again. This second time I rolled Wally onto his
back, held him tenderly in my arms, and fucked his bottom while
passionately kissing his mouth.


With his body shaved, his hair trimmed to a quarter inch, and his frame so
lean, he looked just as he'd looked when he was younger. For a moment I
imagined that this was all happening four, maybe five years earlier, that
this was my free boy son underneath me, and that I was performing a
forbidden act on him. I then understood why the Major got such a thrill
from pretending he was fucking a free boy, as I shot an even larger load
deep inside Wally's bottom. That orgasm took so much out of me I found
myself falling asleep with my cock still inside the boy's hole. But then I
felt Wally shaking in my arms, heard his stifled weeping and felt his tears
on my hairy chest. I kissed all over his face and kept assuring him how
much he had pleased his master. When that didn't stop his crying, I said,
"Boy, I give you permission to speak."


That seemed to stun him into silence. He sniffled a bit and said, "Thank
you, master, for permission to speak." But rather than speaking he just
seemed to be shaking with fear. When he finally spoke he was looking at my
chest and not at my face. "Master, sir... when I realized I was here,
master... b-back home, I thought... well, I thought that I was going to
be..." There was a long pause and then he quickly blurted out all at once,
"I thought you brought me back here to be your son, master, and not a
slave."


I patted his head. I shouldn't have tortured the poor boy and made him say
all that. I already knew what he was thinking. I softly said, "I know that
slaves don't need explanations. But in this case I will give you one,
boy. On the day I first asked the Major to trade you for your brother, I
had a mind to return you here as my son. But since then, I've read a lot,
prayed on it a lot, and been advised by Rev. Flick.


"Wally, much as I loved you as my son, you've been tainted. Your belly and
your guts have been filled with homo sperm. Lord only knows how many
gallons of piss you've drunk, boy. I can't take you back into this house,
into this community as my son." As I was saying the words, my hips were
already moving slowly, my cock was once again fully stiff deep inside my
boy's guts.


"I'm sorry, master," the boy whispered. Then, although tears still streamed
down his face, he spoke in a clear voice, "Master, thank you for your penis
and thank you for putting your sperm into this unworthy slave boy." I was
so proud of my son right then - he had become a wonderful slave. With that
I started fucking the boy for a third time that night and I pushed my
tongue deep in his throat. I had never before felt so aroused sexually.


Much as I enjoyed sex with the slave, it became obvious there wasn't enough
work for Wally to do around my house. So I started earning money by sending
Wally out to do housework for others. His services were hired by a
surprising number of single gentlemen, including the principal of Wally's
high school who had recently been through a divorce.


Of course I did not charge Rev. Flick for Wally's services every Wednesday
afternoon. I knew this was the time the reverend's wife was at her garden
club. Wally always returned from the Flick home with his anus distended and
his butt cheeks glowing red with stripes from either a cane or a strap. I
figured the reverend deserved that sort of relaxation.


I also loaned Wally for free to the Young Slave Handler's club. The
sheriff's son Brad was always so appreciative and polite when he picked up
or dropped off Wally, but the slave boy was just sullen on those
nights. One time as Brad was packing Wally into the trunk of his car, I
overheard the free boy say, "I've got a special treat for you. I purposely
didn't wash my rod so you'd get to have a taste of your ex-girlfriend's
pussy juice."


When the holidays rolled around, I received a nice card with a note from
the Major in which he explained that he and his friend Warren had ended up
trading slaves. Austin now belonged to the Major, while my younger son Will
belonged to Warren. I was pleased to hear that - although the obese man had
made a bad first impression on me, he was a good and decent person. I was
pleased to think of him enjoying my pretty young son.


But as the next summer approached, my life was in a rut. Wally cared well
for the house and for me, but something was missing from my life. It was
Rev. Flick who provided the answer. When he said it, I immediately agreed:
I needed a family! The reverend played matchmaker with a very beautiful
young lady. Actually, this girl had been in school with Wally. As young as
she was, Rosalie came from a very protective conservative household and her
father wanted to see her married to a good Christian man who was older and
dependable. The girl tested as being fertile and capable of bearing
children. The father and I got along very well. There was only one
problem. The father would not let his daughter marry me and move into my
house as long as my former son was a slave in the household. I understood
the man's misgivings.


I dug up the phone number of that resort in the Caribbean that had been so
interested in Wally just a year before. The well-built young man's name was
Kirk and he drove to our town the very next day. He took Wally into a room
and, from what I heard, had very vigorous sex with the boy. He came out of
the room straightening his clothes and offered me $72,000, explaining that
Wally wasn't worth as much as he had been a year earlier because he no
longer had the fresh innocence.


As with any other major decisions I went to speak to Rev. Flick. But at
that time the minister was preoccupied with concerns about Camp Holy Rod,
the religious retreat used by ministers as well as certain wealthy lay
members of our denomination. The answer to both our problems became
obvious. I ended up selling Wally to Camp Holy Rod. It would be a rustic
life. The boy would be chopping wood and carrying water from a well. The
reverend also warned me that most of the religious gentlemen staying at the
retreat had strict ideas about correcting slaves. Wally would get his share
of strappings and paddlings and canings. But it would all be in the service
of the Lord. The retreat could only pay me $20,000, so I didn't make nearly
as much profit as if I had sold my boy to the resort. But I felt better
about his future knowing he'd be under the strict hand of men like
Rev. Flick.


Of course I didn't tell the slave about any of these plans. I watched from
the stair landing as Wally answered the door one morning and was set upon
by two burly men from slave transport. They were very efficient and had him
gagged, shackled and blindered in under a minute. That was the last I saw
of my older son.


Rosalie and I were married a few weeks later. She's been a good wife,
wonderful cook and housekeeper, and heeds her husband's word just as she
had done with her father. Our first son was born last November. Ironically,
Mark was born on my 42nd birthday. Someone pointed out that Mark would turn
18 on the same day I would be turning 60.


I began having these strange dreams that flashed back to the Major's 60th
birthday party, except it was my 60th birthday instead. In the dream only
men were at the party and they were holding a slim blond boy across a table
expecting me to sodomize him. From behind, the boy looked like Wally, but
the men kept referring to him as Mark. I discussed this with Rev. Flick,
but he told me that dreams have no meaning and that I shouldn't eat spicy
foods close to bedtime. He also reminded me that I needed to focus on the
future since Rosalie is now expecting our second son. Then we prayed
together.


(THE END)