By Quentin Collins (hauptwerk88@gmail.com)

© BJB Conglomerated Media

 

This story is fictitious and takes place in a fantastic realm where inconvenient physical, biological, medical, legal, and moral strictures don't exist. It is intended only for the entertainment of those who are legally permitted to access and read it.

The author does not promote or condone unsafe, coercive, or illegal activities. The author promotes and condones love, joy, and imagination.

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Life at Warren Hill

Chapter Twenty-Two

Saturday morning, Warren Hill

Drew Tarnow sat on a loveseat in his home office on the second floor of Warren Hill. Stratfield, the sixty-year-old Butler, dressed in his full livery, was seated reluctantly to Drew's right. The head of the household staff felt it improper to be seated while on duty, but Drew insisted that it was the only way to participate in the video call he was initiating.

Warren Hill's security chief was scheduled to brief Drew on the efforts to bring sixteen-year-old Skyler Bleue from La Jolla, California, to Columbia, South Carolina. The teen was the boyfriend of Warren Hill's second undercook, Parker Matthews. Parker had expressed concern about Sky's mental and physical wellbeing while living with his overbearing and homophobic mother, so Drew put all necessary resources behind an effort to ensure the lad's security and happiness.

Drew, who was, of course, naked, as was his custom when at home, held Stratfield's hand as they spoke. The Butler was allowing some of his practiced formality to slip away, one tiny sliver at a time. He couldn't deny his growing affection for his boss. Drew had no thought about denying his growing affection for his Butler, who was twice his age.

Mitch Swann, Warren Hill's security chief, speaking from Drew's private jet, had informed the two men that the weekend's proceedings had gone as well as expected.

Sky Bleue, with the assistance of a large team of investigators and lawyers hired by Estate Manager Bruno di Napoli, filed an emergency petition for emancipation in San Diego County's Family Court.

They were "lucky" enough to have their proceedings heard before a judge who just so happened to hook up with a young investigator on the team.

When the investigator entered the courtroom seconds before the proceedings were to commence, he did an Oscar-worthy performance feigning surprise to see the judge that pounded his hole twice the previous night, and whose anus was loved to spasming orgasms four times by the virile college junior.

The judge did a triple take, then tried to suppress a smile. He was on to the scheme, but decided that he was sworn to act in the best interest of Sky, the petitioner. He determined to proceed professionally. He didn't feel it necessary to recuse himself from the case since he and the young investigator exchanged plenty of body fluids but no relevant information.

He concluded that the evidence that Sky's mother was not acting in the teen's best interest was compelling and overwhelming, especially in light of her continued homophobic remarks and attempts to isolate her son. He ruled further that Sky was immediately emancipated, meaning, in effect, he would be considered an adult in most legal matters, able to decide where to live and with whom to associate.

Tellingly, Mrs. Bleue didn't object or appear to be particularly upset at losing her son. She was more upset that she had lost her private chef to Warren Hill.

Parker Matthews, 24, now Warren Hill's second undercook, Sky's boyfriend, and former employee of Sky's mother (until she found the two men making love to celebrate Sky's sixteenth birthday), assured the court he would provide housing and board. The lawyers also informed the court that Sky was the recipient of an emergency needs-based "scholarship" to Hulstlander Academy for Boys in Columbia, South Carolina. His education was guaranteed. The so-called scholarship was just a wire transfer from Drew to pay all of Sky's tuition and fees until his expected graduation in two years.

Drew congratulated Mitch on a job well done and asked Bruno to ensure that each team member received a substantial bonus for their efficacious work.

"Now, the most important point: how is our beloved Sky faring," Drew asked as he rubbed the back of Stratfield's hand with his thumb.

Mitch smiled.

"He is a little bewildered, I think. He was hurt that his mother didn't fight for him, but, in the end, it was a relief for him to make a clean break from her overbearing rules and demeaning comments.

"Sky and Parker appear to be initiating their membership in the mile-high club. I am confident that Sky will thrive at Warren Hill after a few days of adjustment."

Drew leaned forward toward the monitor.

"Which brings me to the reason our beloved Stratfield is here, other than the fact that I love him dearly, of course," Drew added quickly.

"As do we all," Mitch confirmed without hesitation.

"What kind of arrangements should we make for Sky's arrival at Warren Hill," Drew asked. "I don't want to overwhelm him with a large receiving line and busy reception. But I also want him to know how much we are thrilled that he is becoming a member of our family. Stratfield will execute whatever arrangements you advise."

The Butler unsuccessfully tried to mask his pride at hearing the confidence his boss had in his abilities.

Mitch sat back for a few seconds, then beckoned Bruno to his side. The tall, swarthy Estate Manager strolled into the video frame, his six-foot, one-inch physique naked and glistening. His fat seven and one-half-inch penis was standing straight up and glistening even more.

Bruiser did not attempt to cover himself or to explain his appearance as he hunched down next to Mitch with his penis a few inches from Mitch's face, drizzling precum.

Mitch noticed the emission and turned to give the phallus a tender lick from root to tip.

Then both men turned their focus to the camera nonplussed at their televised intimacy.

"Hey, Drewski, boss man," Bruno exclaimed. "With what may I assist you?"

Drew smiled as his penis began to experience a sympathetic erection. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything, Bruiser."

"Oh no, not at all," Bruiser replied. "Almost everyone is asleep since we had such an early take-off this morning, so I was helping the cabin steward pass the time. I like to make myself useful, you know. But I'm sure his jaw is grateful for the rest."

Drew chuckled. "I won't keep you longer than necessary, I promise. We are trying to assess the best way to welcome Sky without adding to his stress."

Bruiser leaned with one hand on the plane's conference table and the other on Mitch's shoulder and thought quietly for a minute.

"He has been through a lot over the last few days," he finally offered. "Perhaps it would be best if just you, the boys and Stratfield greet him initially. Maybe you could have lunch together, and he can meet Cook and Spencer (the first undercook), so he will get to know his boyfriend's coworkers.

"Then we could have an informal picnic and pool party or something on the patio tonight so others can introduce themselves throughout the evening. Sky is an avid swimmer as well as surfer, so being near the pool might aid his comfortability-ishness," Bruiser stammered with a laugh.

Stratfield looked to Drew, who smiled and nodded. The Butler turned to the camera. "Excellent suggestion, Mr. di Napoli. I'll be on hand for your arrival to ensure Mr. Bleue's needs are met. I am certain that Spencer will arrange a lovely lunch to be served in the family reception room. Cook is off duty today, of course. But I know that he is on the grounds, so he should be free to stop by to introduce himself and welcome Parker back to the house."

Drew kissed Stratfield's cheek. "Thank you. I'm sorry. That was standoffish, wasn't it?"

He leaned in once more to caress Stratfield's lips with his own. "Thank you, my friend. I love you."

It is physically impossible for anyone to be kissed by Drew without melting, Stratfield included. The Butler recovered his stoicism and turned back to Bruiser and Mitch.

"Do you have an update on your arrival time?"

Mitch answered, "We're doing fine in the air, but Russ tells me that traffic is a bit heavy for a Saturday, so we should roll under the port cochere at twelve forty-five."

"We will be at the ready," Stratfield answered.

"Thank you all," Drew concluded. "Truly, you may have saved poor Sky's life. I love you all. Give my love to Parker, and tell Sky that I'm anxious to welcome him home. See you soon."

Both men on the plane proclaimed their love in return and ended the video call.

Stratfield stood. "If you'll excuse me, Drew, I have some arrangements to make."

"Of course, my good man," Drew replied. He stood facing the Butler, then kissed him on the lips once more. "Thank you for all you do. I know that I don't tell you often enough how much I appreciate your work and how much I love you."

Stratfield sighed. "You tell me every time you see me, Drew."

Drew smiled. "Well, it's not often enough. I love you. You are the best."

The two kissed for a moment.

"Now, skedaddle, sir, before you make me cry," Drew commanded.

"You're crying already, Drew," Stratfield observed as he kissed away a tear from his boss's cheek.

"It's your fault," Drew snickered.

"It always is," said Stratfield with an eye roll and a chuckle as he exited the office.

***

Drew opened his mind to communicate with his three sons, the sixteen-year-old Bahamian twins he informally adopted, Rodney and Robin Poindexter, and his biological son, fifteen-year-old Bunny.

The boys were with their friends Tim Swann and Cordell Washington. They finished their usual five-mile run from Warren Hill to the Air National Guard base. They were "resting" with two friends in the visitor's office, Lamar Jackson, a red-headed nineteen-year-old, and his supervisor, Blaine Howard, age thirty-eight.

Drew absorbed telepathically that the rest period had already involved several robust orgasms. He was happy that his sons made friends so easily, but they seemed adept at selecting trustworthy men to befriend.

Rob, the younger of the rugby-built twins, assured his new father, who, at twenty-nine, was only thirteen years his senior, that they would be home in plenty of time to greet Parker and Sky.

After a brief pause, he confirmed with Drew that Blaine happily agreed to drive the five sticky and naked teens back to Warren Hill. Tim Swann, the son of chief driver Russ, would entertain Cord while the boys and Drew lunched with Parker and Sky.

Drew's erection grew to its full eleven inches as he stayed connected to his sons' sex play at the Guard base.

He exited the office to the balcony that wrapped around the entire second floor of the large house. A couple of groundskeepers were tidying up the front lawns and saw their boss with his enormous erection. They smiled and waved at each other, each appreciating the other's unclothed splendor.

Drew liked being viewed while naked and hard, but he knew the men genuinely appreciated seeing him in such a condition, so it was a mutually beneficial arrangement.

He stayed for a few minutes, developing a full-body sheen in the hot and humid South Carolina air, then walked along the covered balcony to the back of the house. It opened to a large terrace connected to the glass-roofed structure over the Olympic length pool. He descended one of the exterior staircases to the ground-level loggia outside the master bedroom suite and saw a young man wiping down the patio furniture.

It took a moment for Drew to conjure the name of the college student. He was one of several summer employees hired to tend the grounds and gardens.

"Good morning, Bobby," Drew enthused as he stopped a few feet behind the twenty-year-old man.

Bobby was startled and knocked over a glass-topped patio table, deftly catching it before it contacted the concrete patio.

"I'm so sorry, Bobby. I thought you heard me coming down the stairs. Are you alright? I shouldn't have done that. Again, I am sorry," sputtered Drew.

Bobby took a moment to realize who was speaking to him, then another moment to drink in the sight of the muscled twenty-nine-year-old master of the house with his near foot-long erection tapping above his navel.

"No. Yes. I mean, you're fine, Sir. No. I mean, I'm fine, Sir," a tongue-tied Bobby blurted. "I mean, I didn't mean to be in your way, Sir. May I fluff you? I mean, may I fluff some pillows on the chaise for you, Sir."

Bobby stood his five-foot-eleven-inch rower's body as upright as his awkwardness would allow. His short-cropped light brown hair glistened with perspiration. Rivulets of sweat also ran down his torso, which was covered with sparse, closely trimmed hair.

The hair remained the same length to the base of his three-inch flaccid cock. He would typically rise to a hard seven inches looking at such a handsome man as Drew, but his flustered state prevented such a reaction.

He held a damp cloth in his right hand and moved his left in constant ambiguous gestures.

"Bobby?"

"Yes, sir?"

Drew took another step toward the young man, leaving less than a foot of space between them.

"I don't often give direct orders," Drew said, trying to sound menacing. "But I forbid you to call me `Sir' ever again. You will address me as Drew, Dumb Bastard, or Imperious Dog Turd. Take your pick. But, if you call me `Sir' one more time, I am going to paddle your butt. Do I make myself clear, young man?" Drew declaimed.

Bobby stood nervously for a few seconds. "Yes, Sir. Very clear, Sir."

Drew forced himself to hold his gaze. "What did you say, Bobby?"

The perfectly-proportioned young rower dropped his damp rag, clasped his hands behind his head, and cast his gaze to the floor. "I understand the order ... Sir," he said timidly but emphasizing the last word. "Thank you, Sir, for clarifying the situation, ... Sir."

Drew felt precum running down his cock. He stood in silence for a few moments to see if Bobby would change his mind. Bobby held his posture but couldn't stop his penis from engorging.

"Bobby?"

"Sir?"

"Are you certain?"

"Sir, I submit myself to you, Sir, and whatever punishment you deem fair. Thank you for asking," Bobby said with a steady voice but not raising his gaze.

"Very well, young man. Follow me," Drew directed.

He led the submissive boy through one of the four sets of glass doors to the master bedroom. All were standing open, as usual, unless a hurricane bore down on the property.

The large bedroom had an irregular pentagon shape; basically, a square with an equilateral triangle appended to the end, pointing to the centerline of the pool behind the main house and the main entrance in the front.

In the center of the invisible baseline of the triangle was a sizeable square post, thirty inches per side. On the front were two columns of five-inch wrought iron rings, starting about six inches above the floor, incrementing at one-foot levels culminating with a pair six inches below the eleven-foot ceiling. Any variety of rope, chain, bar, clip, or cuff could be attached to the sturdy rings for an infinite variety of restraint and suspension schemes.

A similar arrangement of rings was on the adjacent side to the left, while the right side sported an inclined, widely knotted net with holes large enough to get a decent toehold or handhold. The net could hold two or three men at a time and was strung without any slack.

Against the fourth side of the column was a tall cabinet with drawers and doors to hold an assortment of bondage and punishment gear.

A few feet away, a leather-covered tire swing was suspended from the ceiling for more mobile recreation.

Since Warren Hill has an open plan without interior doors, the restraint post was visible through the eight-foot-wide doorway leading from the bedroom to the cross-hall, the stair hall, and the front entrance hall. Marcus Beck and Jaleel Hawkins, two footmen who were married to each other, stood at the front entrance to the house, ready to greet or bid adieu to visitors, dispatch messages and parcels, or run errands.

The six-foot-three-inch husbands smiled at Drew and his submissive friend, both wishing they could close the eighty-foot gap between them and the bondage post.

As Drew returned their smile, his eye caught sight of Siddhartha "Sid" Rigvedi, the wardrobe valet and tailor, exiting the master bedroom closet. The forty-two-year-old Brahmin bodybuilder always seemed inordinately busy, considering that Drew wore clothing only when he left the property and Bunny never wore anything anymore, no matter where he went. The twins hadn't yet decided whether they would be full-time Natural Boys like Bunny, but they seemed to be moving in that direction.

Sid, who thought of clothing as decoration rather than covering, sported a pale yellow silk sash tied around his hips and an equally pale blue patent leather harness over his massive chest and shoulders. The harness was studded with several fifty-carat emerald-cut yellow diamonds. His glutes, genitals, and most of his shredded hairless body were unabashedly on display.

Sid quickly looked from Drew to Bobby and back again, taking an extra moment to appreciate Drew's leaking erection. "Would you like the room to yourself, Drew?"

"No, my friend," Drew replied, "Actually, I could use your assistance. Bobby has been naughty by deliberately contravening my request. We have agreed that he deserves to be paddled."

"It is the proper way to deal with a misbehaving young man," Sid concurred with a smirk.

The college rower stood still, not daring to look up. Sid smiled and winked at Drew, then approached the young man and felt his ass.

"I am certain these well-developed glutes can withstand twenty whacks. And, they could use a little color," Sid observed, continuing to rub the ass.

Drew stifled a laugh. "How shall arrange the irreverent miscreant?"

Sid didn't respond. He went around to the cabinet to retrieve supplies.

The valet instructed Bobby to face the pillar and raise his hands to the level of his ears. Each wrist was fastened above his shoulders so that his elbows were bent. The clips were attached directly to D-rings on the cuffs, so the wrists were immobilized.

"Thank you, Sir," Bobby said with a steady voice.

Sid and Drew exchanged glances. Bobby had done this before.

Next came the blindfold.

"Is that too tight," inquired Drew?

"No, Sir. Thank you for asking, Sir. I don't deserve such consideration."

Sid clipped two leather-covered footholds onto the lowest rings and assisted Bobby in stepping onto them. Then he cuffed each ankle similarly to the wrists to make sure his feet didn't slip off.

"Thank you, Sir," Bobby responded, not betraying any hesitation.

Sid instructed the young man to squat a little and present his ass. He wrapped a velvet rope around Bobby's chest just under the armpits, then looped the rope over each shoulder from back to front and tied each end to a ring slightly above waist height, allowing some movement but preventing the college student from rising from the squat.

"Thank you, Sir."

Last came two shorter velvet ropes around the knees, immobilizing the legs but also helping to support Bobby's weight. He was sure to be uncomfortable but not in great pain from his induced posture.

Bobby assessed his condition for a few seconds, feeling the air move over his exposed anus facing the front door. He thanked Sid once more, this time with less bravado.

The succulent ass stuck out from the squatting man with his hairless winking hole on display.

Drew and Sid caressed the ass for a minute, praising its size and shape. Both of them liberally drooled precum.

THWACK!

Bobby lurched and hissed at the unexpectedly forceful impact of the unseen Alderwood paddle.

"One! Thank you, Sir," Bobby yelled out. He knew the routine.

Drew took a turn on the other cheek.

"Two! Thank you, Sir."

Drew and Sid alternated, imparting powerful blows to Bobby's glutes but did not always alternate cheeks. Sometimes a cheek got several consecutive blows before switching to the other.

The cheeks quickly progressed from a light blush to crimson. Bobby continued to count in a steady voice. Sid and Drew varied their rhythm and landing sites to keep the young man off balance.

"Sixteen! Thank you, Sir."

Drew used his paddle again.

Silence.

Drew and Sid looked at each other, then saw Bobby's head hanging down.

More silence, then a sigh. "Jesus cunt-licking Christ!" Bobby yelled out. "You faggots hit like little girls. No, that's an insult to little girls. Fuck! Quit wasting my time, Sir!"

Drew stepped to Bobby and said calmly, "You forgot to count, boy. Now we have to start again. And this time, I'm going to use the `Motivator.' Perhaps that will be more to your liking."

Bobby couldn't see the fifteen-inch-long, four-inch-wide rock maple paddle that Drew extracted from the supply cabinet. Both sides were impregnated with an array of small brass pyramid studs like a waffle iron. The footlong handle would allow as much leverage as desired.

The tips of the studs were slightly rounded, so they were unlikely to pierce the skin unless the same spot got hit repeatedly.

WHAM!

Bobbly winced. "One! Yes, thank you, Sir!"

Sid and Drew set about on a new series of twenty whacks. These were definitely going to leave a mark — many marks.

By the time Bobbly counted out the twelfth impact, he was groaning and lurching as much as he could with his limbs restrained. At fourteen, Drew saw tears running down his face from behind the blindfold.

Drew was worried he had gone too far. He generally wasn't into inflicting a severe level of pain and only occasionally wished to receive it. He looked at a few teardrops hitting the floor. He looked again at Bobby to learn that the falling droplets were precum dripping from Bobby's thick seven-inch penis jutting straight out.

The rower's prick was as red and angry as his butt. He was getting off on this. If that's what he wants, that's what he's going to get, Drew concluded.

This time, when Drew landed the eighteenth paddle, he was met by silence again, then a shuddering groan.

"Eight ... eight .. oh my God. Eighteen! Thank you, Sir. Yes!" Bobby babbled as he ejaculated.

Sid finished up the last two swats. Each one was answered with another groaning ejaculation.

Bobby's ass looked like raw hamburger. Drew leaned in. "Are you alright? Bobby? I went too far. I'm sorry."

Bobby huffed and puffed for a minute. "I need to be fucked. Hard. Please, Sir."

Sid laughed. Drew's penis had deflated. But Sid's fat eight inches were wet and ready. The valet enjoyed seeing men test their physical limits.

The shredded Indian bodybuilder dragged over a nearby low footstool he typically used when he helped Drew to put on his socks and shoes. Sid stepped up and slam-fucked the college stud for all he was worth as he grasped two of the iron rings to give himself extra thrust.

Bobby moaned in painful ecstasy. It took about three minutes for him to enter his next orgasm, which almost immediately sent Sid into throes of delight.

The scene reignited Drew's erection and attracted a small crowd of Warren Hill staffers who couldn't help but hear and see the brutal session.

Bobby remained blindfolded, so he had no idea he had an audience. Both Sid and Drew appreciated an audience.

Drew spotted his sons Rodney, Robin, and Bunny entering through the main doors with their friends Tim Swann, who lived at Warren Hill with his father, Russ, and uncles Carl and Mitch. The boys' new friend Cordell Washington accompanied them.

Drew placed his index finger to his lips as he waved the five teens into the bedroom, explaining that they didn't have much time before they had to get ready for Sky's arrival, but they could each have a turn at giving Bobby a good hard fuck.

Tim, a fourteen-year-old Hulstlander diver, fifteen-year-old Bunny, and sixteen-year-old Rod and Rob smiled, lending each other a hand to renew their erections.

Cord decided against participating. The fifteen-year-old distance runner preferred receiving to giving, though he was happy to watch.

Tim, who also generally received, was not averse to topping. He knew what he liked when other men fucked him, so his supple diver's body set to work. He wasn't into rough sex, but he knew that Bobby had invited punishment on himself, so he began to torture Bobby's nipples as he sawed in and out of his anus.

Bobby howled and shot a small load, setting off Tim. After Tim sent several streams into Boby's ass, he gave each abused cheek a hard smack with his bare hand.

The pain was exquisite. "Thank you, Sir," Bobby thanked his unknown partner.

Tuer Shen, the god of homosexual love, had gifted Drew and his three sons with identical eleven-inch penises, except that Rod and Rob's were black to match their flawless black skin. The four of them opened themselves to each other, so it wouldn't matter who fucked Bobby: they would all feel it equally.

They agreed to go in order by age. Bunny grabbed Bobby's hips and pierced him mercilessly, encouraged by his namesake god that Bobby would be aided in achieving mind-blowing orgasms and then be comforted.

Bunny varied the speed and depths of his strokes. He could offer a lot of variety with eleven inches to work with. He reached around to find Bobby's testicles and tugged forcefully.

Bobby was in a protracted orgasm, similar to the ones Drew and his sons experienced regularly. Bunny joined the rower's ecstasy. The college man's ejaculations seemed to get stronger and stronger, another gift from the Rabbit God.

Bunny withdrew to make way for Rob, but did not stop ejaculating. He shot all over Bobby, wherever he could reach.

Rob stepped up and used his splendid black rugby stud body to its best effect, encouraged by his brothers and dad.

Rob smashed his pelvis into Bobby's abused asscheeks with each forceful stroke, eliciting a growl of ecstatic pain. The sixteen-year-old had been with a few men who liked a rough ride but never with anyone who felt pain and pleasure with the same delight.

Rod took over after a few minutes, eager to sample firsthand the fun he shared through Tuer Shen. He rammed the college stud in an almost identical manner to his identical twin.

Bunny, never one to be left out, decided to worm his mouth to Bobby's cock. He floated upside down, then descended into a vertical sixty-nine position with Bobby. The immobilized twenty-year-old had little choice in the matter, which was fine with him.

Bunny was unconcerned that either his eleven-inch penis or his bound partner might be injured as Bobby growled and moaned in pain with a mouthful and throatful of spasming Bunny cock. He trusted entirely that Tuer Shen would protect them both.

Drew loved the sound of Bobby's gurgling moans as he struggled to breathe, scream, and swallow repeated loads of cum all at the same time. He learned how to manage quickly.

Rod withdrew from Bobby as he slapped the tormented ass with both hands. The twins moved to either side of Bobby as Drew took the final round inside the masochist's manhole. Rob and Rod ejaculated every ten seconds in perfect synchronicity with Bunny, coating Bobby, Bunny, and Drew with their generous offerings.

At Bunny's telepathic suggestion, each Bahamian twin pinched one of Bobby's nipples, rubbing it between their thumb and index fingers. After a couple of minutes, the nubs were inflamed and raw. They didn't stop.

Drew was pistoning about seven of his eleven inches in and out of Bobby at a rate of three times per second. He discovered that Bunny was holding Bobby steady by his hips, so Drew was free to use his hands to tickle and scratch the young man's flanks.

Sid wanted to participate again, so he grabbed a leather crop, removed his sash and harness, lay naked on his back between Drew's feet, and reached up to begin tapping on Bobby's balls, careful to avoid striking Bunny as he fellated Bobby. Tuer Shen graced the valet with a share of all the guys' orgasms.

Somehow Sid intuited the rhythm of Bobby's continuing ejaculations and tapped his scrotum with slowly increasing force between volleys. The taps became quite sharp.

Cum dripped on Sid's face and torso. There was no telling where it originated. His cock synched up with the other five, and he started to fire cum on himself, mixing with the cocktail drizzling down the bodies above him.

Bobby became delirious from overstimulation: His mouth and throat were stuffed with Bunny's massive cum canon; His cock was being expertly sucked by Bunny; His balls were being tortured by Sid, and Rob and Rod were tormenting his nipples. Drew was mercilessly fucking his anus, slapping his screaming glutes, and scratching his sides.

Bobby began to hyperventilate, and his entire body vibrated and shuddered. Bunny felt his neck go slack.

Tuer Shen communicated that it was time to end the session. All the guys came out of their orgasms and untangled themselves from Bobby, who was still shaking and ejaculating.

Bunny floated higher, still upside down, brought his mouth to Bobby's, and breathed into it before descending to the floor nearby. Bobby's head fell back as a roar emanated from him with an ejaculation so powerful it hit the eleven-foot-high ceiling.

Then he lost consciousness.

The men unfastened the velvet ropes and other restraints at Sid's direction. Drew, Bunny, Rob, and Rod carried Bobby's limp body, careful not to touch his abused genitals, ass, or nipples. Small volleys of cum continued to fire from the unconscious young man, matting the trimmed hair on his chest and abdomen.

Sid moved ahead and lay on his back on the massive bed, unconcerned about the runnels of cum soiling the sheets.

The massive Indian bodybuilder looked delicious in repose while glazed with cum. He instructed the guys to place Bobby face down on top of him. Bobby's face nestled into a cum puddle at the crook of Sid's thick neck and his hands were on Sid's mounded shoulders.

Drew and Bunny moved Bobby's knees to the outside of Sid's waist, bending them up into a frog position. Bobby looked almost fetal. His swollen anus winked and leaked cum. His butt looked as if it would take a week to heal, with the waffle iron pattern visible in various areas on both cheeks.

After another smaller shudder, Bobby was out. Sid demonstrated ineffable tenderness.

The Tarnow men backed away from the bed, allowing Sid to tend to the spent man. The other Warren Hill staffers went back to their duties, most with at least partial erections.

Drew noticed Carl Swann, the grooming valet, hairstylist, and aesthetician, enter the room and signaled the man to be quiet.

Carl, one of the Swann triplets, was naked and erect, as usual. He entered the room timidly, craning his neck around the corner to see the bed. He slapped his hand across his mouth when he beheld Bobby's backside.

"What the actual fuck?" Carl whispered to Drew.

"He misbehaved," answered Drew with nonchalance.

"What could he have done to deserve that? Did he steal all your jewels?" Carl asked in disbelief.

"No. He called me `Sir,'" Drew explained.

Carl shot him an accusatory look.

"I told him to call me `Drew' and warned him that I would paddle him if he called me `Sir' again. He answered, `Yes, Sir,'" Drew explained. "He sealed his own fate."

Carl softened, realizing the young man provoked the spanking on purpose. "I hope he thought it was worth it," Carl observed. "I'll get the butt balm."

The valet stopped on his way to the supply cabinet in the glass-enclosed wet room and addressed the Tarnows. "You all need to get in there and start showering without me. I'll be in to finish you off shortly. Sky and Parker will be here before you know it."

Drew, Rod, Rob, and Bunny began washing each other in the large glass-walled shower room, which was capacious enough for eight occupants, with an additional one or two in the large soaking tub.

Carl retrieved a jar of his homemade ameliorating "butt balm," his secret recipe, and returned to the bed. Bobby remained sleeping atop Sid, who held him gently and caressed Bobby's pate with his lips.

Bobby had removed his right hand from Sid's shoulder and was sucking his thumb with the most relaxed and pleasant countenance, like a contented toddler after a long day at play. They were an adorable couple.

Carl opened the jar and dipped his fingers into the butt cream, which was actually three-quarters Bunny's cum and one-quarter luxurious hand cream. He floated above the bed to apply the cream without disturbing Bobby's repose.

The cream had an almost immediate effect on taking the sting out of Bobby's ass, but it did not fade the imprint of the waffle iron paddle. Tuer Shen, whose power works through Bunny's cum, knew that Bobby would relish his friends seeing the evidence of his punishment.

After administering two liberal coats of cream on the abused ass, Carl dipped his hard penis into the jar, then rubbed the tip around Bobby's anus.

Sid rolled his eyes at his impish comrade.

"It's the most effective applicator," Carl answered with a chortle. He dipped twice more, the third time inserting the tip of his penis through the ring of Bobby's anus. He stilled his hips after going in three inches, dipped the fingers of both hands in the butt balm once again, and found his way to Bobby's tormented nipples.

Bobby sighed as he continued to suck his thumb.

Carl stayed inside Bobby for a few minutes without thrusting. He felt the college man gently clamping down and relaxing his anal muscles, then finally relaxing completely with another sigh.

Carl knew his work was done but had to fight his desire to make love to the completely restored anus. He withdrew as gently as he could.

Sid smiled at Carl, then flicked his tongue at him. Carl hovered over Sid's face, offering his penis for a cleaning. But Sid didn't stop sucking when the butt cream and the remnants of cum loads from all the Tarnow men were consumed.

Sid made tender oral love to his friend's penis and was rewarded with four substantial ejaculations. Carl did his best to remain quiet. Bobby slept through it all.

"I love you, Carl," whispered Sid.

Carl kissed his friend. "I love you, too. I had best get on with making those four presentable for lunch with Sky and Parker."

***

Drew and his three sons had finished washing each other in the large, glass-enclosed wet room when Carl returned. The grooming valet used a handheld shower to complete a final rinse of each magnificent body, then put conditioners in their hair. The various formulations were customized for Drew's nipple-length wavy blond hair, Bunny's softly curled almost shoulder-length hair, and for Rod and Rob's identical two-inch tightly curled natural black hair.

The men all floated free in the shower room with at least partial erections to show their love for each other. But there was no time for more sex play.

Carl wiped each man with small cloths impregnated with moisturizer and told them to grab a toe of the man next to him.

A train of four Tarnow men floated toward the salon next door under Carl's guidance as if they were barges on a river.

The salon had only two barber chairs, but Carl had brought in two side chairs to which he directed the twins. He set a prepared footbath in front of each teen and topped off each one with extra warm water.

It was relatively close quarters, but nobody seemed to mind. There were already footbaths installed on the barber chairs, so Drew and Bunny also began soaking their feet.

Carl kissed each twin on the lips. "I'm going to start with Drew and Bunny. Those creatures require the most work since they are so repugnant. But both of your natural hairstyles can't be improved upon. All either of you needs is a little shaping before I place your crowns."

Rod and Rob looked at each other. "We're getting crowns? Is there going to be a coronation?"

Carl laughed. "Oh, I guess you guys weren't looped in on the planning. I apologize. Sid and I designed a California hippie casual look for you guys today. We thought it would be a fun way to greet Sky.

"You three boys will have crowns of daisies and baby's breath. Your dad is going to have individual flowers in his hair since it is much longer than yours. Is that acceptable?"

The Tarnows all nodded in agreement.

"I will also apply a light coating of white glittery eye shadow on your lids and nipples and some neutral lip gloss to brighten your smiles," Carl continued.

"I've never worn makeup," Rob said hesitatingly.

"That's fine," Carl replied. "I'll apply it. If you don't like it, it will take me two minutes to kiss it all off."

Shoulder shrugs indicated acquiescence.

Carl finished Drew's initial rinse, comb-through, and set, then moved on to Bunny, using his fingers to shape the fifteen-year-old's lustrous blond curls with the sparest of setting solution.

Finally, Carl combed and picked Rob's and Rod's hair to shape both their heads with perfect symmetry.

He stepped back and shook his head as he assessed Rob, the younger twin. "That won't do."

Rob looked with a bit of concern as Carl retrieved his shears. Three snips later, Carl was smiling again. "Perfection!"

Carl opened his palm to show Rob the dozen strands of hair he trimmed. None was more than two millimeters. "These were bothering me," he explained.

Next came a quick round of pedicures as the men's hair dried naturally. Carl was remarkably efficient at filing toenails and shaping cuticles. All eight feet were done in about fifteen minutes, including a quick application of lotion and a tender kiss on the instep.

Before moving on to the next Tarnow client, the aesthetician inspected each man's hands to verify that yesterday's manicures hadn't been marred by a snagged fingernail. Each hand was lotioned and kissed as well.

Satisfied that all fingers and toes had been accounted for, Carl had Drew and Bunny swap places with Rod and Rob, explaining that he needed the meticulously installed lighting around the barber chairs for makeup application.

Starting with Rod, Carl first combed and shaped each boy's eyebrows, trimming stray hairs here or there with tiny scissors. Then he applied the glittery eye shadow. It stood out in higher contrast on the twins' deep black skin.

Carl thought it looked glamourous. He spun both chairs around so the boys could make their assessments. After several long seconds, Rod's face broke into a smile. "I look sexy!"

Robbin wasn't as confident. "It's just so different," he offered.

Carl reassured him. "Wait until I put the flowers on your head. I think that will put your mind at ease."

Rob looked again. "Okay, Carl, I trust you, even though everybody tells me that I shouldn't."

Carl feigned shock. "Everybody?"

"Everybody," Robbin repeated, annunciating slowly.

Carl grazed Robbin's lips with his and then kissed his cheek. "Those bastards are on to me."

The boys' nipples then received a similar layer of eye shadow. "Ugh. That's too much contrast with your black complexions."

He proceeded to suck each nipple clean, complete with a few light bites. Both twins' nipples and penises were standing at attention by the time he was done.

Drew laughed. "Carl, my love, you're incorrigible."

Carl smirked.

Rodney threw back his shoulders with a look of feigned dismay. "Uh-oh, Carl. I think you missed some."

"We can't have that," he replied as he dived back onto the tasty nipples, biting a little harder this time. "Better?"

"Yes," the black stud groaned as his eleven-inch penis tapped on his flat stomach in time with his heartbeat.

Drew admonished everyone to make sure they stay presentable for Sky's arrival.

Carl redoubled his efforts to concentrate. He used tissue paper to blot the lips and nipples of both twins before applying a clear moisturizing gloss.

Finally, he retrieved the floral crowns from a small refrigerator along the opposite wall. The crowns had small combs, so it took only seconds to affix them, then a few more seconds to make final adjustments.

"Holy crap! You both are stunning!" Drew exclaimed.

The twins looked at each other and their reflections in the salon's numerous mirrors. It wasn't how they typically presented themselves, but they couldn't deny that they looked cute in an exotic way.

"What do you think," inquired the beautician.

Rodney didn't hesitate to give his approval. Robbin took a moment. "I'm sorry, Carl, he said.

Carl was a little disappointed but respected the younger twin's assessment. "Not a problem, Rob. I'll remove the eyeshadow as I promised."

"No!" exclaimed Rob. "I meant, I'm sorry I doubted you. I like the look. I should have trusted your experience and skill. You haven't led me astray in the two days that I've known you.

"Give him time," laughed Drew.

Carl kissed each twin's face and dispatched them to the bedroom to see if Sid was ready to help them dress.

"Are we going to wear clothing," asked Rod.

"No, not clothing," Carl replied, "Just some accessories. Drew is the only one who is going to wear clothing."

"Why? What did I do wrong?" Drew joked.

"I don't have enough time to get into it," Carl quipped back. "But Sid and I thought that perhaps you should wear something befitting your stature as the head of the household."

"I leave myself to your care," Drew said, "Despite my better instincts."

The twins floated over Drew and Bunny and out of the salon as Carl finished weaving flowers into Drew's hair and placing the floral crown on Bunny.

The twins stood next to the bed they share with their brother and father – and whichever guests happen by for bedtime recreation – and looked at Bobby curled up on top of Sid.

Bobby still had his thumb in his mouth, but he was giggling quietly. Sid stroked him with feather-light touches.

Bobby's eyes fluttered, and he looked around. He pried his face off Sid's clavicle, having been affixed there by innumerable cum shots. He kissed Sid's neck, then his mouth.

"Thanks, Sid, buddy, for being such a comfy teddy bear. Can I sleep with you again?" Bobby punctuated his question with a peck on Sid's lips.

"Of course, my friend. Anytime," Sid answered.

Bobby pushed himself off Sid, breaking the seal of the dried cum that had bonded them together, and jumped to his feet, facing the Tarnow née Poindexter twins, almost instantly rousing from his slumber. "You guys are super fun playmates. I don't know when I enjoyed myself more. You dudes tortured my nipples and ass so good. Thanks.

"Do you think we can have another playdate sometime? Bobby spoke faster as his excitement grew. "Do you think your dad and brother would join in again? Drew fucked me into unconsciousness with Bunny's cock shoved down my throat," Bobby raved as if he were describing an action movie to a friend. "Nobody has ever done that before. That was super fun, too."

Sid left the bed and arranged the assortment of braided cotton bracelets, straps, and tethers the boys were going to wear for luncheon.

Bobby couldn't stop himself from bouncing up and down. "Sid, buddy, you're a master with the crop! You beat my balls so good. That pain was intense, man. Thanks for that."

Bobby's cock was standing straight up again, burbling precum over his foreskin.

"I better stop talking about how much you guys hurt me, or I'm going to cum again," Bobby giggled like a child as he gestured to his erection. "I know I have to get out of your way, but I want to thank Drew and Bunny for a first-rate fuck. Do you think that will be alright?"

Drew and Bunny strolled into the room hand in hand, with their makeup and floral head adornments finalized.

Drew smiled at the college man. "You can tell me what a great fuck I am any time, day or night."

"Thank you, Imperious Dog Turd," Bobby giggled again. Drew couldn't stop himself from laughing, partly in relief that Bobby seemed unfazed by the amount of torture he had endured.

Bobby kissed Drew on the cheek. "You're a sweetie pie, Drew. Can we all get together again, do you think? You won't have to go easy on me next time."

Drew's jaw dropped.

"Sid," Bobby asked, "Do you have a ball slapper as well as that crop? Next time, use the ball slapper. That will make me howl like a man on fire."

Turning to the twins, Bobby continued. "Speaking of a man on fire, maybe next time – assuming there will be a next time – we could do it by candlelight?"

Bobby touched Rob's face, then Rob's. "Your eyes would look sexy in candlelight, both of you. It would bring out those gold flecks.

"And then, after you guys get done rubbing my nips raw, I could look into your sexy sparkling eyes as you drip hot candle wax on my tits. That will really intensify the good feelings.

"And, you know what else? That would be super romantic, too, as long as I don't scream too much." Bobby giggled again.

The college rower noted the look of surprise on Rob's face.

"Would that be too much for you guys," Bobby asked. "I keep forgetting that you and Rod are only sixteen, and Bun-Bun is only fifteen. You're just kids compared to mature grown-ass men like me," the twenty-year-old said wryly. "You probably haven't even studied bondage practices in your sex education classes at Hulstlander Academy, have you?"

Rob braced a little. "Rod and I have been at Hulstalnder for only a year. We've reviewed BDSM methods and definitions, but we haven't done any practicum exercises yet," he said as if discussing his world history curriculum.

Bobby laughed. "You said `practicum.' I practice cumming all the time! Anyway, I'd be helping you guys work ahead, then! You're going to be experts. Hey! Maybe I can be your partner when you have to demonstrate your skills? If you make me cum in front of the class the way you did today, you'll get an A+ for sure. I hope I can get a copy of the video."

Rod and Rob Poindexter smiled and got full-blown erections at the thought of making Bobby cum with their classmates and teacher watching and video cameras recording the scene.

Sid and Drew were stupefied that Bobby could plan his next S&M sessions as if he were ordering a Happy Meal.

Bobby turned to look at all of the assembled men. "Well, I had better get out of your hair, which is super, super cute, by the way. Thanks again for the fun romp. I have to hustle to get to Lake Murray for my heats in the four-man canoe races," Bobby said.

As he walked through the room, he stopped next to Bunny. "That was Tuer Shen's breath you blew into me at the end, wasn't it?"

Bunny just smiled.

"I love that Chinese sex-god dude," Bobby continued.

"We love you, too, Bunny replied and slapped Bobby's ass as he turned to leave.

Bobby giggled again as he skipped, literally, out of the bedroom singing a silly fa-la tune. He blew a kiss to the oversized portrait of Tuer Shen on his way to the front doors held open by Marcus and Jaleel, then to his waiting Jeep, which someone somehow knew would be needed at just that moment.

The Tarnows looked at each other in silence, trying to process the contradictions of the childlike masochist.

Sid allowed them several moments of contemplation, then broke the silence. "Let's get dressed, shall we?"

 

 Thanks to the readers who asked me to continue this story. I hope you continue to find these chapters entertaining.