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fancy Meets Gus Twenty-four hours later I was hogtied, sweaty, and sore. No part of my body had been left at peace, every muscle ached from straining against my bondage, the flesh on my ass was blistered and sizzling and my balls were still tied off with rawhide twine and aching. But it was the throbbing in my asshole that taunted me, reminded me that my cock was stiff and dripping, that even though Gus had emptied himself several times into my ass, I had been denied the thrill of release. It was hard to believe it had only been twenty-four hours since my introduction to public disgrace at Rockefeller Park at the hands of my Master Gus! The grotto had first seemed hidden and dark, but as I’d dropped to my knees that huge August moon illuminated my face like a theater spotlight announcing to the audience of perverts and pederasts that there was a new cocksucker in town and I could feel their eyes on me as they watched Gus’s big cock disappear into my mouth. I was afraid, I was ashamed, but it turned me on like nothing I’d ever known.. Gus understood that I needed to be humiliated like that, to face my demons and be outed like any other queer and accepts who and what I was. He took his time with me, holding back, making me stare up into his arrogant handsome face, realizing I’d finally made the commitment to submission. By the time we left and I’d swallowed his thick salty excitement his collar was around my throat and his big hand was cupping the cheeks of my ass letting me and everyone else know there was more to come, a lot more. Only twenty-four hours! I’d been through five sessions of being bound, beaten, and fucked and that experience confirmed what I already knew; I was a groveling masochist hungry for more sleaze, more debasement, more disgrace, my anus was aching and itchy, my thighs were coated with my Master’s dried cum, and I loved it, all of it! All my life I had been haunted by dark erotic dreams I couldn’t understand, strange lands with beautiful princes and princesses, muscled grooms armed with stout paddles or whippy taming sticks, and naked slaves, boys with stiff cocks called to sexual service. In the mornings after those dreams my underpants would be wet and sticky and my Catholic boy’s training told me I should feel guilty, but I didn’t, not at all! I often thought I should be whipped for dreaming that filth, for wanting that debasement so passionately? Now I wondered if I had finally arrived in that land of my boyhood dreams and found someone who would stripe my naked ass with a switch, and release me from those tortuous nightmares. Master was writing into a leather bound journal at a huge desk with mahogany legs supporting a polished marble top and with my hands and ankles still tied together I struggled across the leopard print carpet moving as slowly as a caterpillar pushing first my hips then my shoulders. He never looked up though I knew he could hear my grunts and by the time I finally made it to the desk I was covered in sweat and prickly with carpet burns. Gus was wearing high worn black leather boots like the kind you’d see in Nazi war movies and an old jockstrap. I began to lick his boots, savoring the taste of worn leather on my tongue and the smell of man’s perspiration in my nose. He grabbed me under the arms and lifted me to my knees then held my head tightly against his crotch by the hair at the back of my head. I could feel the heat of his cock right through the jockstrap and explored it with my nose. The combination of sweaty musk and dried cum was like an aphrodisiac. I kept my face against his soft meaty cock for a long time breathing the heady aromas of man and sex! My tongue rolled over his rock hard abs and up to nipples as thick and dark as Greek olives, when I sucked them they stiffened and plumped. When he raised his arm I tilted my head and went to work on his armpits. He’d boast to friends later that I had the perfect tongue for cleaning armpits and assholes and I strangely felt proud of that fact! He was after all my Master and my joy would always be in bringing him pleasure as this last day had taught me. That morning had started easily enough with a light breakfast and a tour of the old house on Lake Shore Boulevard that Gus called home, then training began that became torture as we moved towards noon. Gus gave me a purging enema, my first since being a little boy, then an intimate body shaving. Sometimes now in the middle of the night I can almost hear the straight razor scratching around the rim of my anus and when that happens my dick gets hard just like it did then. Could you guess what it was like for this boy, that moment that I knew he was preparing me for an ass fucking? I can hardly ask those words without jerking myself off! He sprayed me off in the shower, dried me with a huge cotton towel, and then massaged almond scented oil into my cock and balls. He tied a rawhide leash around my balls. Gus yanked and I followed my eyes glued to his muscled little ass! My training began with the incomparable intimacy of one of those unforgettably long-hard hand spankings a boy never forgets. He wore leather britches and held me tightly over his lap. I squirmed and kicked and felt his cock swelling against the confinement of his britches, pushing into my belly. When I realized I couldn’t fight his strength, I begged him to stop, he only laughed and continued till my ass was crimson and I was overwhelmed by the thrill of total defeat. I was going to be his butt-boy and no matter what form of filth his passions needed to flower I would be willing to follow every command. He bound me in a variety of positions each unique in the way it tested my strength, each similar allowing easy access to my mouth and anus and positioned so that my meaty rump was a willing and tempting target for his paddles and straps. And I’d learn it would become a sweet suffering, whether kneeling with head bowed and arms pulled back between my legs or spread wide open while hanging from meat hooks in the cellar dungeon.. The first session he chose a wooden paddle and landed three swats with a frightful crack that sent a forest-fire raging across the cheeks my ass. Then he soothed away the sting with his big strong hand and worked my balls and cock with the other. I could almost feel the blood surging into my cock and I was throbbing at the gate to orgasm. Then he’d stop and paddle me again! Gus went back and forth like that building and sustaining an orgasmic energy and blurring the distinction between pain and pleasure. I started to push my ass backwards in an unspoken plea; more Master, more pain, more pleasure. As my juices rose higher and higher I begged for permission to cum, he stopped stroking me, and picked up the paddle again. I can’t say how long that lasted, an hour perhaps, agonizingly long. Gus would rest briefly in front of my face, pre-cum glistening on the head of his cock the blue veins almost bursting, standing in sharp contrast to the big purple head. He was sweating profusely trying to keep himself from going over the edge, waiting for the moment to drain him self. As the training continued my whole body responded. My cock dripped constantly and the cheeks of my ass were on fire. My strength was sapped from struggling against the bondage and I had become pliable, that’s when Gus began to work my asshole. His cold slippery finger entered me and he spoke with a low sexy soothing voice; “Daddy’s gonna fuck your ass boy”. I moaned and wiggled my ass to the delicious finger fucking. When he felt my ring of muscle relax Gus slowly worked a big curved banana into my ass; these were the days before you could buy sex toys on any corner, he worked it in and out. Man that felt good, but then he was behind me and I panicked, I strained against the ropes, Gus grabbed the back of my collar really tight and pushed. Fuck, it hurt, it really fucking hurt! Gus’s soothing voice whispered, “stay with me boy, breath deeply, it’s going to feel good soon, just relax. He petted me, patted me like you would a skittish animal to sooth its fear, he let my body adapt slowly till that warm wonderful feeling of fullness consumed me and my hips jerked back. “That’s my boy”, he began to pump and reached around to stroke me. Big strong hand stroking my cock, big meaty dick filling my ass, he began to talk the way some men do during sex; dirty, filthy talk, calling me names no one had ever spoken before, and I loved every moment. Gus finished writing in the journal and stood up from his desk and effortlessly carried me to bed over his shoulder like a caveman with a conquered animal. Gus placed me on the bed, untied my ropes and rubbed feeling back into my wrists and ankles with his big strong hands. I sat with my back against the huge mahogany headboard; Gus spread my legs apart then lay down on his belly so I could see his entire body spread out over the bed. Broad shoulders muscled back, the smallest waist, and that incredibly small round muscled rump. He lowered his head between my legs and went down all the way to the root began sucking me with an experts mouth, and when I looked down I saw his brown eyes suddenly soft and youthful and my hunger became love.
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