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Estonia A Homosexual Adventure He could have driven from Helsinki, or taken any one of several flights that linked his capital with mine in Tallinn, Estonia. But he chose to come by ferry. The hydrofoils ran several times each day, fast ships that covered the distance in only 90 minutes that still allowed time for reflection and the time to enjoy the view of the Gulf of Finland. It was summer in the Baltic States when the temperature often climbed to the mid eighties and a few hours at sea with the salt water and big orange sun burning your skin was a rare and welcome treat. And of course there was the crew on the boats. The owners of the vessels were naughty rascals who only hired hunky, muscled boys to the delight of the horny male passengers. Their uniforms consisted of tight shorts or white sailor trousers that hugged their delicious round buttocks, and on days like today they often bared their chests to the sun so the sweat glistened on their pectoral muscles and biceps. I’d made the trip myself several times and seen the crew groped playfully and more than once visited the tea room below decks only to find a boy on his knees or bent over being given a good pumping from behind by a lusty sailor. To be honest, I’d found my own passions at their peak during those voyages and looked forward to kneeling by one of many glory holes for a taste of Finland! Oh what fun! The image thrilled me and I wondered now if my visitor had been excited by their erotic playfulness and guessed my Master-visitor would be sexually throbbing by the time he reached dock. We had met casually on the internet and were meeting in person for the first time. I dreamed that he was coming to claim me, to collar me, to take ownership of my buttocks and declare himself as Master. But I knew that was a silly boys dream. He would come like others had come, have his way with me, then leave with promises to return. Ah well, perhaps he would be different! Our online meetings were charged with probing questions about my life and my sexuality; he seemed to know me, to understand the confusing spider’s web of a bottom’s mind. And when we finally arranged a web cam session I knew that I was madly in love with this beautiful man. To my surprise he was young, only a few years my senior, with a broad chest and small waist. His eyes were a luminous blue; knowing and probing. His speech was measured, controlled, almost mesmerizing. How could a boy like me ever resist? He humiliated me on cam, stripped me naked, and inspected me, every inch. I had never felt so humbled. “You’re Estonian he said, submission comes naturally to you. You people have been subjugated for a thousand years, first by the Teutonic Knights, then the Danes and the Swedes. When the Nazi’s came you knelt and licked their boots, when the Communists arrived you stuck out your buttocks and begged. Don’t fight what comes naturally to you, embrace it, and find your joy in bringing pleasure to those you worship”. I was overwhelmed by the truth in his assessment. When finally the boat reached dock I was a confusing mess of a boy, so sexually aroused that I feared making a fool of myself. The voyagers disembarked one by one till as I stood with my heart thumping madly waiting for my first sight of him, then nothing! I felt defeated, felt like sitting down right there on the dock and crying, then heard soft footsteps approaching. One of the crew walked off the boat and approached me. He was a beautiful boy naked to the waist and clad only in those tiny “hotpants” and soft boat shoes. He spoke in awkward and highly inflected English with a confusing syntax. “It would be pleasing for you to follow me, I am thinking” he said, then turned around and began walking back onto the ship. And yes, it was very pleasing to follow him! I had never seen a bottom that beautiful before, except for an internet photo of a U.S. Mistress named Louise, but with photo software and airbrushing, I never really believed something that beautiful really existed. He had deep dimples on either side of his lower back that seemed to point the way to the swelling roundness of each cheek that curved to form sexy crevices where they met his muscled thighs. My hand almost reached out to pet him but I regained my composure and followed quickly up to the deck, then down a flight of stairs into dimly lit and elegant salon furnished in a deep rich teak wood. Several other crew members were seated on the floor at the feet of a man dressed in black, leather trousers and a silk shirt opened to the third button to allow a glimpse of thick separated pectoral muscles and nipples as thick as summer strawberries. He was here; my Master was here! Chapter 2 The downstairs salon was oppressively hot! I felt sweat growing under my arms, on my forehead and upper lip. It seemed as though I couldn’t get enough air into my body even with my mouth open and sucking deeply. The Master stared at me with a crooked smile on his beautiful face crossing and uncrossing his legs so my eyes naturally followed the movement from his knee high shiny boots to the black leather pants caressing his crotch. He saw my eyes widen and smiled again, a broader smile this time. He began to speak. “We have a new society, a new order based on natural selection where the strong are served by those born to serve. It is several hundred kilometers from Helsinki, deep in the forest and away from the prying eyes of this bourgeoisie society. In these environment boys like you can fulfill your destiny, men are free to lead the lusty life that comes naturally to them”. I could feel my legs trembling. All of a sudden it was scary, not a game anymore, not role-play, not dress-up. What this Master was talking about was serious Master/slave relationships. Boot licking, ass kissing relationships accompanied by pain and welted flesh! My breathing quickened as I looked around the room at the half-naked sailors. I could smell their excitement, it was primitive and sexual. Several were groping others, rubbing crotches, squeezing nipples and buttocks, causing animal sounds to echo through the room. “It’s fucking hot in here” I almost shouted, suddenly sounding scared and uncertain. The Master motioned to two boys that began unbuttoning my shirt, unbuckling my belt and lowering my pants. In seconds I was almost naked, covered only by an expensive pair of Calvin Klein underpants. I placed my arms and hands in front of my body, trying uselessly to cover myself. “One of the sailors laughed, “this is no place for modesty”! He took out a knife and sliced the underwear at both sides, they fell to the floor and I was naked in front of them all. Yet even as frightened as I was it was all too obvious that I was excited by it all. As excited as I had been so many years ago when I first knelt for a Master while his hands cradled my head and he thrust himself into my mouth. The Master continued: “On the floor in front of you is a contract of servitude valid for one year of indenture. Read it carefully, every page, every word, for if you decide to sign the document your life will change, perhaps forever. At the end of one year several options are available. I may find you unacceptable and ban you from the community or you can decide to be released. If you stay I have the right to sell or trade you, or keep you as mine, in which case your rump will be branded and your numbers will be listed with the International SlaveRegistry. You have about twenty minutes before departure”. I knelt down quickly with my nose to the document. There were pages of rules and regulations followed by pages of appropriate punishments for disobedience. Every facet of a slaves life was covered; how he entered a room, addressed a Superior, the cast of his eyes and posture of his body in a multitude of situation. I felt overwhelmed. If I signed I would be leaving, now! No two week notice at my job, no farewell parties with the sweet boys at the pub with rounds of drinks and goodbye kisses. You can imagine my confusion. Yet when the last word had been read and I looked up at his handsome smirking face there was no decision to be made. I’d seen that look before, and hungered for it. It was that look of powerful satisfaction a Master possesses when peering down at a boy watching his cock disappear into a wet mouth. I signed quickly and he rose and approached me till he stood next to my kneeling body. “What do you want to be boy?” I looked back confused. “You want to be a good little cocksucker” he said. I nodded my head. “Say it”! “I want to be a good little cocksucker, Sir”. “Say it again”! “I want to be a good little cocksucker, Sir”. He unzipped his pants and pulled out a meaty seven incher, cut with a pretty pink head. Then held it by the base and slapped it against my lips. “Say it again”! “I want to be a good little cocksucker, Sir”. I opened my mouth and let my tongue snake out a little, he slapped it on my tongue with wet little splats. “Say it again”! “I want to be a good little cocksucker, Sir”. He drove himself into my mouth till I gagged while trying vainly to gain my composure by breathing deeply through my nose. My eyes bulged and watered but he held my head tightly and my glands began secreting a heavy syrupy spittle and mucus that filled my mouth and coated his dick. When he pulled out everything was covered with spit, his cock, my chin, the floor beneath me. “Henri, come here”. An African sailor mover to my over side, gleaming muscled ebony skin, he took out his cock, a huge black snake over nine inches long. It was uncut so that the foreskin covered every inch but the tip where the little slit peeked at me like a mythical Cyclops. “Tell Henri what you want to be, say it”! “I want to be a good little cocksucker, Sir”. He took hold of my ponytail and pushed my face forward till I choked audibly on Henri’s thick pole, then pulled me back. “Tell him again”! “I want to be a good little cocksucker, Sir”. It went on and on. Not really sucking dick but just keeping my mouth wide open while they took turns fucking my face. Thick wads of spit clung to stiff flesh as I moved back and forth from one man to another all the time gagging, choking, and reciting my litany over and over again. Finally I collapsed on the floor. Two sailors lifted me and pulled my hands arms behind me where leather bands were attached; one under my armpits, one ay my elbows, a third binding my wrists. More bands were produced; thighs, knees, ankles, I was helpless. The Master stuffed my tattered underpants in my mouth then sealed it shut with black tape. He wound one more leather band over my mouth and buckled it behind my head, then kissed me, and I almost felt his tongue through it all! They lifted me into a wire cage and covered it with a black rubber sheet just as the boats whistle blew for departure. Within minutes we were at sea and the only sensation I owned was my hearing and I was haunted by the gasps and groans and the sound of slapping flesh of beautiful men at play, sucking and fucking the way men do. Chapter 3 We were docked in Helsinki only moments till I was transferred to a dark blue delivery van still bound and gagged like the prisoner I was and when next I saw the light of day it was in an almost Eden-like compound in a beautiful green forest. I stepped into the daylight and heard the whinny of a horse and smelled wild flowers and a freshly manicured lawn. Several very large manor houses built from stone and heavy timber were built in a quadrant surrounding a huge sauna bath that emitted a fragrant wooden aroma. I watched with some fascination as several Masters returning from training stripped off their cut-off shorts and boots and entered the steamy enclosures. In moments I heard the thwack of birch branches against muscled backs and bottoms as the playful men stimulated their systems in the blistering heat and I could envision the blood surging through their bodies till all their cocks rose high and proud. The slave boys were everywhere, all lean bodied with long flowing hair; some shoulder length, other trailing to mid-back and below. All these splendid little animals were bound in some fashion and several were gagged with bits of the type usually seen on a pony. It was a feast of male submission and I thrilled at the thought of being welcomed into their tribe and to suffer with them to the delights of our gorgeous Masters. I would learn that close to twenty Masters trained a pack of fifty boys, a few were called pets and had been branded and claimed forever, the others like me were considered mongrels that required constant training and daily beatings. My Master attached a leash to my collar and with a ceremonial tug led me to his cabin. I quickly noticed the walls were covered with wooden spanking paddles, leather quirts, and those whippy canes called taming sticks that leave a boy’s hindquarters raw and welted. There was a huge fireplace with a pit below the hearth covered with a gigantic bear skin. On top of the bear skins were iron manacles and I had no doubt that this would be the place where I’d often be raped during the long cold winter ahead. "Over my knee," said Master and I crawled obediently settling myself against his bulging prick. My skin bristled at his touch and I knew that helpless feeling all boys experience when taken intimately over another’s knees for punishment. He examined my rump and anus then reached between my legs and twisted my balls. I yelped loudly, and then yelped again when he landed a stinging slap to my behind. Master began spanking in earnest, aiming the swats at the softest, curviest part of my boy’s ass. I moaned and rocked on his lap as the loud slaps echoed in an intoxicating ballad. “I want to be a good little cocksucker Sir, I shouted “You must earn that honor” he countered, then delivered another dozen before pushing me off to the floor. Master stood quickly and lowered his trousers then sat back down scooting on to his lower back so that his rump extended over the seat leaving little doubt as to my job of work. I stopped for a moment, “why me Sir, why have you chosen me”? We Masters see a “look”, a “look” of defiance in some boy’s eyes, I see it in you and feel driven to wipe it from your face. Now hurry”. I pushed my face between the cheeks of his ass and began munching and licking the precious little oval while he masturbated. He sighed when I spanked it with a heavy wet tongue; had I found his weakness? I pulled back to catch my breath and look at my object of worship. It was surprisingly pink and lovely, smooth as though recently shaved, puckered and shining with my spit. It was at that precise moment that I understood the “look” he had spoken of, for somewhere inside of me was a defiant streak, a Master’s will yet to be born. I smiled knowing my cock was throbbing at the notion, then lowered myself again and ate his asshole with vigor and the hope that someday this beautiful man would be mine, on his belly, spread open, begging for my cock! Chapter 4 That evening we dined in a large hall that resembled a German Bier Garten with long wooden tables and comfortable large chairs. The Masters were seated first and came dressed casually in shorts and tank tops or t-shirts and were served by boys clothed only in sandals, a collar, and cock rings. It was a relaxing, playful time with bawdy jokes and jugs of wine and beer and the opportunity for the Masters to familiarize themselves with all the boys. For me it was a new and thrilling experience. Not only being naked in public for the first time, but being subjected to the Masters attentions. My Master led me around the table introducing every Dominant in his turn. I was cautioned to remember each Master’s name, his face, and his position at the table. All during this journey Master kept his hand firmly on my ass and I mistook that gesture for affection, but I soon learned it was a demonstration of ownership to all the seated men. In this odd and primitive society a ritual had developed to control the lusts of the Dominant males. When a man desired the sexual use of another man’s property, a meeting was assembled, usually at night in front of a bonfire or fireplace, and accompanied by music and drink. The boy in question would kneel naked and bound while a negotiation between the two Dominants occurred. This usually took the form of a trade of slaves, but when one’s desires ran high and it was obvious to the owner, anything was possible, even a ritual called “turning” where a Master became boy for another. Legend even said some Masters who agreed to a night of servitude never returned to Dominance. When finally we had completed the circuit I was blindfolded and sent to my hands and knees to crawl under the table and sniff between the legs of every man to whom I had just been just introduced. My cheeks and lips played against their thighs and the bulge of their sex and tried to commit each to my memory by their name and table position as well as the length and breadth of their splendid cocks. Then they stood, moved away from the table, and change their position of order. My blindfold was removed and I crawled on my knees to the first man, a muscled German with a shaven head, and rubbed my cheek against his cock. “Karl, I said with a rude arrogance, then watched as my Master placed a mark on the left side of a white-board with a black grease pencil. The smile on everyone’s face told me I was wrong. Then wrong again, and again, and again. I began taking great care as my journey continued by using my lips and tongue on every bulge trying desperately to identify cock with man, man with name. The marks on the white-board continued to grow till finally I was done and hung my head in shame. My Master made light of my failure announcing that I had been acquired for my beauty and not for my brains, but the look on his face told me that he was displeased with my efforts. He took hold of my ear and marched me across the room to the giggles of the slave-boys watching my disgrace. “Gentlemen, please form a queue while I secure this boy and help me decorate his backside to reward his failures”! I was cuffed at wrist and ankle over a wooden trestle with leather padded cross bar and watched as my Master selected an ash rod from a bundle of assorted taming sticks. “Be cruel gentlemen, he implored, how else does a boy learn his lesson except through a good blistering”. The first Master delivered a resounding THWACK, and the next, and the next, till seventeen livid welts rose on my boys chubby behind. I tried to be brave, but failed miserably. At the sixth stroke I began to cry and implore each Master to have mercy, to be gentle, all to no avail. At times it seemed that every inch of my backside was glowing. I could feel the blood teeming under the welts and my rigid cock bobbing helplessly in its silver metal ring. And the trial continued the next night, and the next till finally 33 days had passed and at long last I was schooled at identifying every Master by the cut of his cock. They didn’t whip me that night at all, but rather hung me by my ankles from a rafter with my wrists tied at my lower back. And my gracious Master allowed them all the heat of my mouth. Chapter 5 I began to see that “look” in the faces of many boys that “look” that my Master had seen in me. It was a defiant glare that defined a rebelliousness and it’s glorious manifestation took the form a beautiful American boy named Richie who entered my life and changed it forever! One day while walking through the forest I came upon a wide creek with a fallen tree covering its span and began walking over the natural bridge only to realize that another boy was coming from the opposite direction. He was tall and lean with stunning blue eyes and thick yellow hair that tumbled down to the middle of his back. The boy was collared as I was and held a six foot wooden staff in his right hand. He raised the staff and spoke, “you would be wise to back up and allow me passage,” he said with a deep melodious voice. “And why is that?” I questioned. He smiled a crooked smile, “Because this tree only allows one person to cross its span at a time and if you continue your journey you’ll surely end up in the muddy creek!” “We’ll see about that”, I queried while bending down to retrieve a stout branch that had broken off the tree; “Maybe a sassy boy like you could learn a lesson in manners”. We both swaggered towards the middle of the creek balancing carefully on the tree trunk and both bent on victory. He swung first and I parried effectively blocking his thrust, and we began a furious match that quickly had both of us sweating and breathing heavily. He made an acrobatic feint to his left and I fell for the faked move. His staff drove into my belly and the air rushed out of my body in one instant forcing me to double over and in that split second my adversary swung his staff again in a huge arc catching me full well on the widest part of my rump and sending me sprawling into the creek. I picked myself up clutching my sore ass that now wore an inch wide red stripe from hip to hip. I was wet and covered with mud as I looked at the beautiful boy who was now smiling broadly. The sun was shiny brightly on his wide shoulders that tapered down to a tiny waist. He was long legged and looking up at him in this fashion I could see between his legs to the curvature of plump, pear shaped buttocks. His cock rose up like a sword; slightly curved, thickly veined, with a tiny drop of pearl colored liquid at the tip. He was without any doubt the most gorgeous boy I’d ever seen! “There you cheeky boy”, he tainted, “I’ve given you the licking you deserved, now I’ll be a gentleman and give you aid”. When he lowered his staff to pull me from the water I pushed back quickly causing him to loose his balance and tumble into the creek ass over elbows in a most humorous fashion and land only a few feet away where I wrestled him to the muddy shore. He was a strong boy and my measure in every fashion so that our exhausting efforts left us breathless and panting on the creek’s shore with no clear winner or looser, still in each others embrace and staring into each other’s eyes. At that very moment in time we both realized our excitement and felt our rigid cocks rubbing against the other. Our lips were only inches apart, his breath was as sweet as apples, and I felt something special happening, something I never experienced before in my life. “You’re beautiful,” I muttered, and just like that we came together. His lips were full and soft, his tongue devilish and demanding. Our hands were everywhere at once, kneading, tweaking, so that our flesh burned with a strange new desire; a desire of equals. I ran my hand down over his chest to his serrated abdominals where the flesh was stretched so tight over bone and muscle you could have struck a match, then down between his legs to stroke his cock. He kissed my neck then my nipples and began tracing his tongue down to my belly when I stopped him. “No my darling,” I said, “We must consummate this moment in that divine numerical configuration that lover’s adopt”. And so he turned around and our faces buried themselves and enjoyed the sweetest of meats. His anus was puckered and scented with spice and I began there licking gently then moving up to his perineum then to his scrotum pushing the tiny balls up with my tongue. I licked each then took them into my mouth one at a time for a good sucking. By now my blonde darling had already taken me into his mouth and I was on the edge of an ecstatic agony. I pushed up against the roof and felt his teeth scrape gently over my cock then lowered my head and took him deep in to my throat like a man starving for a hungry body. The earth itself seemed to open up when our passions reached their height and our boiling fluids erupted then we lay in each other’s arms for a long time after we consummated our joy, kissing deeply, each with the taste of the other in our mouths. Sleep came easily and when we opened our eyes expecting to see Eden, the glaring face of a huge man was staring down at us instead! He was a Russian Master named Dimitri as big as a giant with a scowl on his face that carried a dueling scar on the left cheek. He lifted me off the ground by my ponytail, bound my wrists behind my head then did the same to Richie. He saw the fear in our eyes. “What bad boys you are. Your cocks are limp and wet. Slave boys aren’t allowed orgasm, you both knew that”? We shook our heads and lowered our eyes. The giant put his huge arms around our waists and lifted us off the ground then carried us to a large tree stump and sat down with both of us sprawled over his huge lap. I could almost sense the gathering of forest creature surrounding us to enjoy this deserved discipline. Wolves and turtles, owls and raccoons all came with their blazing colored eyes as Dimitri raised his big muscled arm again and again. His hand was as hard as a wooden paddle and all Richie and I could do was squirm and let the tears roll down our cheeks till he was satisfied with his efforts. Dimitri lifted us up and reached between our legs to pull our balls back through our thighs causing us both to wail and bend over in pain. I thought for a moment he was examining our pussies, deciding which boy to fuck first. Wishful thinking I guess. He wound strips of raw hide around our balls and yanked back and up to begin our journey back to the compound that was over a kilometer away. We were headed back, and we both knew we would be publicly punished for our cardinal sin. Chapter 6 A crowd of Masters and slaves boys were already gathered in the courtyard of the compound when we returned and Dimitri turned us over to another Master named Hugo who was the defacto Sergeant-at-arms of the Masters council. He hurried us to two stocks carved from rough oak wood that had been sunk into cement troughs in the middle of the courtyard. Our heads and arms were pushed into the holes and secured so that our mouths were only inches away from the rich loam soil. Hugo pushed our knees up against our chests so that our rumps raised very high then attached leather bands from the side of the stocks that locked around our thighs just above the knee then back again to the other side. It was a horrible, demanding bondage that in moments placed stresses on our backs and necks but the horrors were only beginning. He took hold of the rawhide strips and pulled back sharply so that our balls groaned out between our thighs where the Masters that owned us had knelt down. As our testicles creaked out they were captured in wicked little wooden vices called “humblers” that were locked in place and screwed tightly down. The sound of our wails still haunts me to this day and the agony of that bondage will live in my memory forever. Yet there was more, so much more. Our owners put on black latex gloves then coated their hands with heavy syrupy lard and we knew the indignity of a public fisting. My Master seemed to revel in his cruelty. He began with two fingers that quickly changed to three and opened me with the force of a pneumatic piston. I turned my face to Richie and saw terror in his eyes and knew he was being violated in the same fashion. The fourth finger made me wince audibly, and then a pregnant silence erupted so that not a single sound could be heard in the forest. I sensed four fingers slowly wrapping around a thumb and knew my time had arrived. Master placed the knuckle of his index finger at my portal and twisted his hand clockwise for a quarter of a turn, back to the middle, then anti-clockwise for a quarter. A silent scream left my gaping mouth that seemed to be mimicking my yawning anus and my whole being shook with tears. He looked back defiantly into the faces of the crown of fidgeting slave boys assembled to watch our defilement, with his hand sunk into me to the wrist! Some boys cried in fear, some trembled and lost control of their bladders so that the sound and scent of spraying urine was everywhere. What a horrible defeat! Had it been worth this debasement? A memory flooded my mind. A memory of a beautifully built young blond man with light freckles on a sun-brown body who lay next to me in a moment of some strange euphoria. My cock stiffened and throbbed and I pushed my ass back at my Master for his further torment. I looked at Richie’s tear streaked face. His long hair tumbled to the ground and through his agony he smiled at me. It had been worth all this and so much more! Chapter 7 He led me back the next morning with the “humbler” still tormenting me and I was forced to walk bent over with my knuckles scraping the ground like an ape. Whenever we passed someone, Master or slave, he’d rear back and slice my buttocks with a taming stick. Everyone nodded approvingly, even the haughty slave-boys who seemed to enjoy watching one of their own kinds being punished. The following fortnight was what I came to remember as the “time of the wolves” and tested my resolve like nothing else in my life. My Master had developed a plan to shape my suffering. I would cease to exist as an entity and emerge from his cocoon of shame, humiliation, and discipline as nothing more than an object capable of delivering pleasure to those who demand it. He demanded me to speak in the third person and the concept of “I” disappeared from my lexicon. My speech adopted a strange new syntax and verbiage; “this slave begs to lick you asshole Sir”. Let me caution the readers, especially those of tender age, to stop reading this journal now or risk the chance of being thoroughly disgusted by the horrors that awaited me. I was almost constantly bound during that entire two weeks in such a variety of positions that every ounce of my physical and mental strength was put the test and it all began in a basement dungeon the moment we returned. The air was warm and moist and smelled of decay and mold when I was tethered face down on a stainless steel table with sides built up all around that resembled a bathtub with drains at every point of the compass. My middle rested on top of a raised portion of the tub so that my buttocks were presented high and open and my anus gaped for inspection and was quickly oiled by an attending groom. He placed a plastic funnel that extended perhaps three inches inside of me then inserted the shiny brass nozzle of a red rubber high-pressure hose into that. Master held the nozzle in place as the groom turned the water supply handle. “We’ll rid you of all your impurities”, he cackled, “starting from the inside’. The hot waters that filled me were pumped from an underground mineral-rich geyser that was just the right blend of elements to create a vicious purging fluid that made my belly began to swell with a horrid pressure making me moan and writhe as the waters were pumped into my rectum. Master warned me not to try and expel the fluids as the groom put his hands on the cheeks of my ass and pushed them tightly together making sure that this slave boy complied. It was a new and odd violation for this boy and his body burned with shame. Master pushed the nozzle in deeper, plugging me, causing the pressures to build even more. Then in one fast motion he removed the hose, removed the funnel, and slapped my ass as hard as he could. You can imagine my sense of helplessness as my bowels released. The waters squirted out carrying my wastes to the drains at all four corners of the table. How could he be so cruel! How could he rape away my privacy so casually? My eyes closed as tightly as they could and lowered my head with a new shame as the muscles of my body continued the purging reflexes that were conquering me into a limp helplessness. When it was finally over and the groom released me I crawled on my belly to the booted Master and licked the scum off the heels while he urinated on me and I hoped that this was the bottom of my degradation. Chapter 8 My days and nights were spent in a variety of demanding bondages that always left my mouth and anus open and available. At times I was suspended by ropes, at other times locked kneeling into a wooden box with my head and ass extended through holes in the wood. Master continued the use of the former in that same fashion that he had adopted on our first meeting on the boat, forcing his meaty cock into my throat till I choked and gagged. When my juices had mixed with his fluids he would pull out take hold of the base of his cock and slap my cheeks and lips till I begged for more. If a droplet from my mouth landed on the floor he’d spank me ruthlessly with a wooden paddle and I learned to avoid this by sucking the strands of semen back into my mouth in the same fashion that a child plays with spaghetti. The latter opening was another story all together! Though my boy pussy remained gaping for his attention he denied me that joy choosing instead to have a groom deliver numerous reaming throughout the day with a device known as a fucking wand. The wands sat in almost every room of the château mired in small pails of citrus scented lubrication. They were perhaps 2 meters long and made from wood or aluminum and each was topped with a generous rubber cock molded from a rainbow of colored polymers. And so it was my small intimate channel was poked and prodded till it burned hopelessly, stretched and filled, yet left hungering for the delight of a real pulsing hot cock. It was during these horrible torments that I’d dream of Richie my beautiful Blondie and pretend that he was covering me and filling me with that sweet meat that I had tasted on the banks of the stream the day we met. Master whipped me twice each day with my arms cuffed to a spreader bar suspended from the ceiling and cranked high enough that my toes barely scraped the stone floor. He used a strap during these floggings starting at my upper back and working down to my buttocks and thighs then around front to my chest, belly, and the soft skin of my inner legs. Once my skin glowed red he took to his knees and sucked my cock with a wicked enthusiasm till my balls ached and my fluids rose very close to eruption. Then he would stop and begin the process over again, usually five or six times at each beating. The first day after the sixth round he raised with a wry smile on his handsome face then snapped his finger. Another slave-boy appeared, a beautiful boy, lithe yet muscled. Master took him out of my sight somewhere behind me in the dungeon so that I could hear the sounds of wet flesh slapping and the boy’s moans of pleasure. When they finished Master brought the boy to me so that I might see the look of satisfaction on his face, and the wet limp cock between his legs. Master stroked his index finger over the boy’s slit and gathered up some of the sticky excitement then brought it to me lips asking me: “will you ever be a good boy”? At my next beating that day when he rose and snapped his finger again I begged. “No Sire, please don’t go, not yet. This boy hungers for your strap”. I arched my back and presented my rump, but of course he left with another boy to torment with the sounds of lust, that beautiful agony in the face of orgasm! Chapter 9 In the dining hall the mongrels like me were fed from large aluminum bowls placed on the floor and filled with a disgusting mixture of stringy meat and gravy. I was on my knees lapping at the gruel when I finally saw Richie again for the first time since our capture. His Master had shorn every lock of his beautiful long blond hair and his body was covered with welts from what had probably been a single-tailed whip. I wanted to cry! His Master rudely pushed his face into one of the bowls and I watched his rump raise and spread and the tiny jewel nestled between those sumptuous cheeks sparkled out at me seemingly begging me for attention. I moved as quickly as I could with my hands tethered behind my back, scurrying on my knees and Richie bucked then sighed as he felt my tongue lathering his anus. My head jerked back and suddenly I was being pulled across the floor by the leash attached to my collar. “I love you Richie” I shouted. Nothing mattered anymore, nothing but him! A paddled landed with a crack, crack, crack and welts from my afternoon spanking rose again on my rump with a dreadful burn. “I love you too” Richie shouted, and it seemed all worth it for just a moment, till I realized and I was looking into my Master’s angry eyes. He pulled me to the men’s room where I squatted with my arms folded and tied at my back between the urinals. He ran more of the same cord around my legs from ankle to thigh so that I was unable to crawl then placed a three inch ring gag in my mouth with an opening large enough to accommodate the biggest cock. The bastard took a piece of cardboard and drew a large X on it in black crayon then placed it in the urinal. It was only minutes till the first customer arrived with a half-hard cock full of beer urine and I was helpless to the assault. As the night progressed my spirits sank into a dismal abyss. My darling lover was in the arms of another and perhaps being as cruelly treated as I was. My Master, who had seduced me so handily, was proving himself to be a mean-spirited and spiteful Master. And my newfound career as communal urinal was making me wretch with a self-loathing that shamed me to the core. Then something remarkable and shattering occurred that would alter the course of my life forever. A slave-boy entered the men’s room; a new slave freshly arrived from Palermo named Luigi. He was beautiful, as beautiful as any woman. His tawny skin was flawless and stretched over a body inspired by Michelangelo. His dimpled buttocks and plump nipples begged to be pinched, and oh what a cock, a prince of a cock! Then I saw my Master behind him. I could see a strange look in his eyes as he cruised the darling boy and knew he was visually raping him. I saw a “look” of such maddening desire and lust I knew I had seen the face of his weakness and the path to my salvation. Chapter 10 He was smitten! My Master was smitten, mesmerized, beguiled, so hopelessly infatuated with Luigi it was impossible to hide his passions. He continued to follow the boy around the sanctuary like a puppy with his tongue dangling and drooling and his rigid cock poking out like a soldiers lance. Other Masters began to laugh at him. He forgot us all, every boy in his stable went untouched for weeks, he may have been a eunuch for all the good he did for us. Our welts healed and our libidos swelled! Slave-boys need attention and we were left with throbbing cocks and gaping pussies while Master pined for the gorgeous Sicilian. He finally approached the boy’s owner with a negotiation that was quickly rejected. He offered more; the owner laughed. “Why should I barter for the use of other slave-boys when I have Luigi” he asked. He snapped his fingers and the naked Luigi entered the room. “Look at the boy, look at his body. Have you ever seen anything as perfect? Have you ever seen skin that glimmers like porcelain on a slave-boy, or nipples as plump as these”? The poor Master fidgeted in his chair as his cock pumped under his tunic at the sight of the beautiful boy that he desired so forcefully. The owner took hold of Luigi’s cock and stroked it. “And look here “he said, not as long as others or as thick, but have you ever seen anything quite as lovely”? The owner took the beautiful cock in his hand and stroked it quickly several times until a silver pearl of pre-cum appeared at the slit. My Master began to hyperventilate. The boy was spun around; his curvy little ass cheeks cupped then delicately parted allowing a fleeting view of a forbidden heaven. “What then” my Master shouted, “what will you take in exchange for one moment of pleasure with your boy”! The answer was all too obvious and his moment of joy was all to fleeting, for at the precise moment he took hold of Luigi’s ankles and parted them he lost control of his passions and suffered a shameful premature ejaculation. My Master was trembling noticeably when the owner placed a collar around his neck and led him out into the courtyard on a leash. He was strapped over a spanking bench on a revolving platform in the garden and we were all invited to watch his submission which he embraced with the enthusiasm of a true bottom. To an outsider his actions might have gone unnoticed but every Master and every slave-boy recognized his submission, the way his hips arched to the strap after a few swats had licked him red. He smiled when the Owner threw him over his shoulder and carried him back to the lodge to be beaten more and fucked raw. As for me, things got better everyday. I was claimed by a Master, the same master that owned my darling Richie. He was passionate spanking enthusiast, a diligent voyeur, and an amateur pornographer. He dressed Richie and me in sexy little outfits, tight pants and hugging shorts and demanded that out cocks always be hard and throbbing. We were allowed to groom and play all day as long as we didn’t squirt and that’s just what we did. I learned every inch of Richie’s body by tracing it with my tongue then performed for the Master every night while his video camera hummed and he stroked his thick cock. The little movies were all the same about sexy little brats caught misbehaving in the fashion familiar to bad boys. We’d be scolded then taken over his knee and spanked till we squirmed and cried and promised to be good boys. Then we would sit on either side of him with our faces in his lap licking his cock from root to tip then kissing each other while he fingered us; could two boys have asked for anything more? It was at the end of one of these episodes that I realized I was madly in love with Richie and at the end of our year of indenture we left the compound to be together. On the boat back to Estonia we held hands on deck and kissed like stingy lovers often do without regard to the other passengers gawking at us. I pulled back and spoke; I love you Richie, but were both bad boys, boys prone to be led around in the direction our cocks are pointing at any given moment. At just that instant a handsome sailor in tight pants caught our eyes and winked. Richie smiled, then we’ll make a pact, a pact to love each other forever in an open relationship. We won’t exchange fluids or phone numbers with other boys, he said, and we’ll keep a taming stick close by to temper our passions. Now I smiled. “I’ll welt your buttocks when you misbehave” I said. “And I, yours’, he answered. We kissed again the followed that sailor boy below deck and when we returned we were all smiling. The End
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