Ecstasy E-Book

BFPub

• Herausgeber: BF Pub
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

“Love knows no reason, no boundaries, no distance. It has a sole intention of bringing people together to a time called forever” 26 Stories, Twenty Six  times of love, pleasure and romance of gay erotica in different circumstances and era. *Get these gay romance books for the price of ONE... Don't let this awesome deal get away! . If you appreciate gay romance or you’re just into male to male action, you will not be disappointed with the stories in this book. Grab your copy now!!

Leseprobe

ECSTASY

Ultimate Gay Stories

WARNING

This book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language. It may be considered offensive to some readers. This book is for sale to adults ONLY.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Copyright © 2016

All Rights reserved. No part of this text may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior the prior permission in writing of the copyright holder.

Table of Content

Another Man's Son

Prison Sex Slave

How to Turn Straigt Men Gay

My Hard Prison Rape

Picture Perfect

Rent Boy

Memories

Jason MacDonald

The Journal

Antigua Romance

Underworld

Indian Abduction

Jacked

Hardcore Commando

Captivated Attractions

The Gym Challenge

Mauled by my Mate

A Heart On Hold

Intense Lust

Empire's Desire

Billionaire Gay Lover

Model Wanted

Doctor Boner

Erotic Physical Examination

A Scavenger for Love

Almost Paradise

ANOTHER MAN’S SON

Chapter 1

I have never considered myself to be a cruel man; then again, everyone has one or two blind spots that always seem to escape notice. It all started one evening during a charity event. By now I had the means to shell out quite a bit of cash both for tax purposes as well as a genuine empathy for causes, environmental efforts my favorite.

I think we were saving South American rain forests for that evening and as was quite commonplace, a part of the fund-raising involved a lively auction off of owned male slaves for a few hours of sexual enjoyment to the winners. I had been to many events of this nature, but had never actually bid on a slave for sex and not that I didn’t favor males over females for sex, I did. I was gay, I loved sex, especially with men much younger than my fifty some years.

I also loved kink, especially that involving the pain and pleasure of corporal punishment, spanking. I had enjoyed spanking scenes with men here and there for decades, but nothing that ever lasted more than a time or two with the same like-minded man. I should mention that I was pretty picky with who I wanted to play with.

Having observed the age and looks of slaves offered up at several of these events, I never quite could favor the choices. They either looked too old or body shapes that displeased me. That night, however, I spied a slave that somehow fit the bill for me. The roster said he was twenty, but he looked quite a bit younger. He was white, stood at six foot and slightly underweight for height and judged that others who valued his near-perfect ass cheeks as I did would be driving up the cost of his auction by quite a bit.

I got to fondle this boy’s goods before the bidding started as his owner, a tall good looking black man who sat nearby, watched. The boy did not have a name, just a number, in this case #48.

Speaking of names and numbers, controversy had existed for decades over whether a slave should have a real name, a nickname or just a number. The governmental legal regulations concerning slavery were nearly as large as the re-vamped federal tax code and none of it covered the controversy, go figure. The whole thing was boorish and though I had considered myself supportive of the idea that humans could now be bought and sold as property under the New Order given proper legal cause or financial necessity, I guess I thought myself above the fray of actual ownership even questioning the morals of those who did have the means to buy and control a human being in such a manner.

Yet, running my hands up and down #48’s smooth, white and nearly flawless skin and over those hot round ass-mounds that evening gave me not only a big boner, but a long pause to reconsider my morals or perceptions of slave ownership.

“Go ahead, put your finger in his mouth and then run it up his pussy,” the owner said from his seat. I nodded to him and did just that. The slave wet my finger with his own spit and then with one smooth strong move, I jammed it up his butthole to see how he would respond. #48 whimpered, even groaned a little as his ass cheeks clenched and the expression of worry, even dread on his cute face affected me quite unexpectedly really. I felt my cock pre-cumming in my shorts, a nice surprise indeed.

“He’s relatively new, pretty tight still. I don’t believe in frequent anal intercourse with my bitches, wears them out too soon and then their resale value plummets like a dick that’s had too much action, I’m Jamal, and you are?” the owner said coming forward to introduce himself. We shook hands.

“Austin Miles,” I replied.

“Good to meet you Austin. What are you into?” he asked as I stayed at #48’s side and fondled his cock and balls next.

“The corporal punishment arts mostly, spanking. If it’s a hot ass, I want to make it nice and red and then f~uck it,” I said aloud adding to not only my pleasure, but also to the slave-boy’s worried expression.

Jamal chuckled, “This one hates that sort of thing, so he gets it a lot. He’ll learn, won’t you pussy boy?”

“Yes Master,” the boy said quietly, I thought with begrudging respect.

“Sounds to me like he needs a good whipping over a man’s knee,” I commented.

“Good eye Austin, that he does. You look like just the man for the job, good luck in the bidding,” Jamal closed out.

I didn’t believe in luck unless you meant luck stemming from hard work. I did not lose the bid for #48 and that despite the ardent efforts of three other men and two women with very deep budgets. Inside of the next ninety minutes or so I used my purchased rights to have #48 begging and bawling using a set of implements that Jamal provided on the spot in a private room in back of the event area.

I began with a warm-up spanking, his bare bottom cheeks angled nicely over my knees so that I could finger-tease his butthole and hand spank his cheeks. This did not affect him much, but I sure enjoyed slapping his sexy curvatures, my palm slapping side to side, up and down.

Next came the paddles. I reached for a traditional number, an old wooden school paddle. He didn’t like that so much at all, lots of squirming and whimpering and twenty or so licks later, he was yelling with each strike. Then I changed his position, laid him on his back, legs drawn up and back, the diapering position. I changed paddles to a Lexan plastic, not my favorite; but I wanted to try it and it proved very effective. He was blubbering by then, but I was just getting started.

Next, I angled #48 over the back of a chair, legs spread. The temptation to pause and eat out his tight butthole was strong, but I postponed that pleasure. Having always admired things British, I used cane and tawse on #48 next. My ears filled with his howls and eyes with his writhing and crisscrossed linear welts upon a deepening crimson background. That really got my prick to oozing precum.

By the end of it, his ass was pretty tore up. Jamal smiled and nodded, “Superb, well done Austin, don’t you think boy?” he directed to #48 who blubbered out a nearly unintelligible response, Jamal rolling his eyes. I just chuckled.

I got naked, it was time to put my cock to good use with #48. Jamal watched closely as I put my bought slave into a tight sixty-nine position with me on top. I licked out his butthole for quite a nice stretch and made him do the same to me. I loved rimming, one of my favorite sex acts. Next was cock-sucking. He did fairly well at that and I even took my turn sucking on his young rod and got it hard despite my prior treatment of him.

I was not in the best shape physically at the time, so I was tiring. Time for the grand finale, but first, a spur of the moment idea.

“Jamal, could you hand-cuff this slut for me?”

“A pleasure Austin, of course,” and I watched carefully as he procured a beautiful set of chrome manacles and hobbled the boy’s wrists behind his back. Oh yes, perfect. I pushed the boy prone onto the bed and pounced, ravenous predator onto his helpless prey.

I started slowly, pushing my cock through #48’s still quite tight pucker and watched his face gather up in dread. Jamal had not been wrong. I could nearly not tell that the boy had ever been much used anally by his owner, nice and tight this one. When I finally popped past his ring, he started crying again.

“Keep that shit to yourself boy! Nobody here wants to hear it!” Jamal chastised him.

“Yes Master,” he sobbed and restrained his vocalizations from then out.

I picked up speed and started to f~uck him in earnest. I had seldom had such a hot looking piece of ass, much less, as I drew my cock in and out, I could feel the hand-cuff’s metallic textures chaffing against my lower tummy, quite a nice sensation really. My rapture at the end of it all was eye opening in that it seemed almost perfunctory, the journey getting there much more enlightening than the ending.

“So, what do think Austin? Might you be in the market after tonight?” Jamal asked and as I dressed I contemplated his question.

I had never done anything like this before, but quickly concluded that there was no point in a pretentious show of hypocrisy, “I just might be my friend, I just might be,” I replied knowing that I was much more than just a little interested, but little did I know.

* * * * *

I owned and operated a company that brokered the sales of other companies large and small. It was a very lucrative, but also a very cutthroat business that required nerve and cat-like reflexes. Flinch and you could lose a profitable sale or even become one of the hunted companies and yet I enjoyed it, probably no surprise there.

A rival company’s owner, Ben Farmer, an exceedingly handsome man, coldly decided I should go down upon the insistence of one of his client’s desire to buy my company for himself. Using barely legal tactics that were considered dirty even in my business, he nearly succeeded and though I survived, it would cost me dearly for months to come.

At the end of the negotiations, Ben sat on the other side of the long boardroom table with a stupid grin on his face,

“Come on Austin, ol’ buddy, it’s not personal, it’s just business. Now why don’t you let me buy you a couple drinks, hell dinner besides.”

I wanted to kill him, I did. He nearly r~aped me of my whole life across that table and yet he was right. It was just business and Ben was just doing his job. That I knew Ben and his family, had for years really, could not play into this bitter end game so I thickly swallowed my pride and nodded.

“Yea, it’s just business,” and I did take him up on his offer and he did buy me drinks and dinner that night and I did laugh at his insulting crude jokes about fags, priests and Jews. I went home afterwards and putting the whole nasty affair behind me the next day, I started out to reclaim what Ben Farmer had taken from me.

Months passed, a year’s worth. I had put off buying a slave because of time, not money. Don’t forget that with the pleasures of slave ownership came regulations, laws and responsibility. You could not just lock a slave up and not feed it or care for its medical needs. Beat it all you wanted, just clean up the mess and don’t let it get sick, that sort of thing. I didn’t have the time at first, but the time did come and when it did, even I could not have anticipated how it all went down.

I’ll never forget it, ever. I had kept in touch with Jamal Wilkens, the owner whose boy, #48, I had spanked, whipped and f~ucked the daylights out of at the charity event months before. Jamal was now the part owner of a slave trader group called East Coast Servitude Services (ECSS). ECSS was but one of hundreds of government licensed brokerage houses for slave sales across the planet.

I finally had the money and time combined to give Jamal a call one day. He invited me to check out his facility and stock. I had never been inside of a slave brokerage. You really couldn’t tell the difference between the insides of that building and that of a prison, just a lot nicer cosmetically speaking.

He showed me around the holding cells housing boys of legal slave age, 18 and up, but unlike a conventional prison, Jamal’s place only housed those boys who were either judicially sentenced to involuntary servitude or had volunteered for servitude on account of severe financial need and at the same time judged by Jamal and his group to be physically attractive enough for sale in order to fetch good auction prices.

I had shared my woes concerning Ben Farmer with Jamal several times over the prior months and he proved to be an exceptionally good listener. He even understood my business just as well as I did. I did not whine to him about it, but it was still good to share my frustration with him.

One afternoon he called me, “Austin, you had better get down to my place now. Run, don’t walk,” he said with urgency.

“What’s up?” I asked excitedly.

“It’s a surprise you won’t believe,” he said. I did as Jamal said. I ran and did not walk.

When I got to ECSS’s front door, there Jamal was and said nothing but sported the smirkiest grin I had ever seen on a grown man. He then led me deep inside to a particular holding cell handing me a certain slave’s manifest, the slut’s complete life history, statistics and in this case, criminal rap sheet.

I looked at the boy first thinking I recognized him and then checked his birthdate. He was 18 years and five months only. He was as attractive a boy as I had ever seen on the streets, much less a slave; but when I saw his name and particularly his father’s name, I almost turned into a giggling teenaged girl.

I looked at Jamal. He looked at me, “Revenge is best served off a hot ass, don’t you think my friend?”

Indeed. The boy’s name (that is before the judge in charge of his case stripped him of it) had been Ryan Farmer, Ben Farmer’s son. Yes, it was true. Dear old Ben’s eldest son had not only found himself deeply on the wrong side of the law, but had nearly got his old man into deep shit as well. Ben survived, but barely. In any case, dear pretty boy Ryan had not.

“I got lucky. I called you as soon as I won the contract on this one from the state center,” Jamal said, “Get your head up bitch!!” he yelled into the cell.

Yes, it was true. Ryan Farmer knew me, I had met him several times when he was considerably younger. He had been as arrogant and cocky as Ben had been and I’m sure was set up to take over Ben’s business in true Farmer fashion, edge of the law and all. The slave looked up and when he saw me, his whole body seemed to become a model of abject misery and he covered his face with his hands and seemed to be sobbing to himself.

“I’m surprised you didn’t buy him Jamal or put him on one of the big national sales shows,” I mouthed staring mechanically at the boy as an angry bitterness welled up, the memory of Ben’s prick of a face looking at me across that board room table once again like it was yesterday.

“Oh, he would fetch a bundle, that’s for sure. I wouldn’t mind teaching that one how to suck cock and take it up the ass. He’s a real lady’s man or so he thinks. He was caught once sucking cock, but said he didn’t like it and the technician said that if he was any tighter back there, he could never shit properly,” Jamal chucked quite loudly.

I could tell the slave heard. He started to sob even more loudly. Either Ben had raised a wuss or he was indeed feeling the severe loss of his freedom to control his life’s destiny, I’m sure my presence was a real topper for his father’s little fallen angel.

Ryan’s judicial sentence was very severe indeed. Ryan Farmer, now contract number 4053 was to be enslaved for a minimum of ten years. Yes, he could be released from slavery then, but history had well shown that males under servitude for at least two years begin to lose their prior identity, a process that is fairly secure by five years and by ten, well, only a rare slave might successfully return to society in full freedom choosing rather to serve out their life’s years as a slave, a somewhat unexpected statistical fact.

“Are you giving me first crack?” I asked Jamal, expecting the price to be very extravagant.

“First, second, third. After what you told me about Ben Farmer’s business practices, I figure this one is sheer fate. All I need is to recover costs, make a little profit and he’s all yours Austin. You hear that slut?” Jamal yelled at him, “Your ass is going to belong to Mr. Miles here, the man that your father tried to screw a while back. Payback is a royal bitch, is it not?”

“Noooooo!” the slave howled and I wished to God that Ben was here to see the mayhem he had wrought. There was no more pretense or hesitation now. I wanted him, badly.

“Be quiet bitch! Gag him!” Jamal instructed the technician standing by.

I had noticed that in public many slaves were gagged to prevent unwanted conversation by those that considered slaves unworthy of speech or to punish them. There were many clever gags on the market that at a touch of a button would allow entrance of a penis for sexual pleasuring of several types.

I also noticed that Ryan was already collared and his genitals cuffed in very sleek brushed metal materials both gently glowing with electronics. I had heard about those and their ability to cause pain or pleasure, inhibit or enhance, quite the toy.

The gag in place, I followed Jamal inside. I had already made my mind up. I would sell the literal farm to get my hands on this pretty piece of meat for myself, the fruit of Ben’s loins.

“I would give a lot to see Ben’s face when he finds out who bought his son’s ass,” I wondered aloud and by then I was standing at the boy’s side, his eyes wide with fear, his mouth silenced by the newly placed gag.

“Oh, I didn’t tell you. A part of the kid’s punishment was cooperation from his father, that he would have to witness his judicially ordered public caning, ten strokes on two different occasions sixty days apart.”

I grinned, “I would love to be the one tanning his hide.”

“Just apply. They train you and you can punish your own slave in public, just the same as the court appointed officers.”

“You’re kidding!” I said, getting more excited and the slave’s face falling further.

“Oh, it’s better than that. Say the word and Ben will have to witness you sexing up his caned ass if it pleases you to do so afterwards.”

He was not wrong. That was better, much better! My hands now fondled the slave’s soft body, a body I was going to mold and shape. I fondled his cock and balls, squeezing his balls until he groaned hard into his gag and then I whispered in his ear.

“I hope you like pain boy. Or maybe I hope you never do. You are going to be spanked, whipped and used. You are going to serve me. You can fight it or learn to accept it. You’re father started this. I’m going to finish it. Blame him, not me.”

Chapter 2

I could have named my new boy anything; Rover, Spot or even a girl’s name. I chose the diminutive Mikie for no other reason than to symbolically keep the boy in his place no matter his age. Jamal personally trained me how to get full benefit from the electronics built into my slave’s collar and genital cuff. Mikie could be tracked via GPS both by the authorities and myself. The collar housed all medical information for use by any doctor or hospital. The cuff recorded all sexual responses including any attempt at self-abuse, no old-fashioned chastity device needed. If my slave abused himself without permission, I would know and his punishment would be swift and severe.

On the day that my purchase would be official and Mikie would go home with me, I had him dressed in a very thin almost see through garment that showed off Mikie’s hot ass. It was custom if not actually required for slaves in public to be seen as nearly naked short of skin.

If the slave needed spanking, it was fine to unflap the rear panel and spank him as long and as hard as needed in any public place. In fact, it was highly encouraged that slaves be taken to the public schools and spanked in front of groups of children to impress their minds as to the New Order’s consequences of law breaking. It was felt to be a significant effective deterrent.

The short ceremony audio was recorded for legal purposes, Mikie reading from a script on a small card.

“I, the former Ryan Farmer and now Mikie, property of my new Master, Mr. Austin Miles, do dedicate the next…” the slave hesitated, I was sure the reality of what he was saying brutally thrashing his mind.

“… ten years of my life to serve my Master as he wishes or suffer punishment and dedicate my body to the service of my Master’s every sexual need and desire or suffer punishment. I shall not attempt escape or risk permanent servitude, certain severe punishment or even death,” his voice trailing off at the end, no surprise there.

I signed the contracts and that was it. I shook Jamal’s hand and he said.

“Let’s have a party to celebrate, you bring your boy and we’ll have a little fun with him and my boys together. Say next week?” Jamal asked. I nodded and grinned ear-to-ear, “Call me.”

I took the small slave remote control from my pocket, activated it and said.

“Come with me slave,” and led him out of the facility and to my car.

I put him in the passenger front seat, went around to the driver’s side and closed my door and just sat there and listened to him breath next to me as I then enjoyed a thick blast of ironic reality. I had Ben Farmer’s precious son sitting next to me because the business of trading flesh was really no different than trading companies, Ben’s and my expertise.

“Property, you are my property boy, never forget that,” I said to him. He looked down, avoiding eye contact.

“Look at me bitch!” I yelled into the close confines. He did, his pretty greenish eyes wide and frightened.

Experts differed on eye contact between slaves and their masters, most advising no contact at all. I didn’t give a f~uck. I wanted him to know who his Master was and the eyes never lie.

“Ever kiss a boy, a man?” I asked. He gulped, his forehead furrowing, “No Master,” he said using proper language.

“Good, you’ll learn,” and then I reached for his genitals and fondled him fairly roughly through the thin fabric musing how many times in the past I had wanted to sex a male partner in my car just for the naughty pleasure of it.

“Get into the back seat, now” I barked next as another fantasy came to the forefront. I got out and joined him, “You don’t like gay sex, do you boy.”

“No mas … “ he said so quietly that I did not hear the last syllable. I did not chide him for his poor answer, I could see the base humiliation on his face, the full weight of his crimes and even that of his father’s sin on his slender shoulders.

“Good, because that’s all you’ll ever have my boy, gay sex, day and night. Spankings, whippings, ass raping day and night. Anything I want, anything you don’t want, answer me!” I lectured him.

This was planned of course. Jamal had put me through a crash course in slave psychology in which you bombard the boy’s ears at every turn to get them used to the new facts of life whether they happened or not. Depending on how you forced sex on a male of his type, I could train him to enjoy the sex eventually or not. It was up to me. Right now, I was not interested in his enjoyment of anything.

“Yes master, I understand” he said a little louder, mouth saddened. At least it wasn’t a pout. That would get his face slapped.

I whipped out my hard cock, “Go down on me, no teeth, understand?” emphasis on the teeth part.

He nodded and leaned over, but stopped, his face drawn up with dread if not hatred. I grabbed a handful of his boyish cut blonde hair and forced him down.

“Wider bitch!” I yelled at him, “Open your f~ucking mouth wider!” I screamed at him. Again, Jamal’s technique to get him used to his master’s ire so that when I treated him with earned kindness, he would grow to maximally appreciate it.

I felt his warm breath and soft luscious lips, lips that I would soon train to meet my lips, my tits, my butthole, my balls, cock and even my feet, toes and fingers. He started to groan and I saw his nose twitch in disapproval of my scent.

“Breath it in Mikie, get used to it bitch-boy,” and then I slid my cock into his mouth far enough I knew it would gag him,” it did, he gagged badly.

“Damn bitch!” I yelled at him and then slid myself to the center of the seat and threw him over my lap and undid his bottom flap.

“You will learn not to gag on your master’s cock and until you do, you will be punished,” and I started to spank his hot young ass with my hand.

“You …” I administered ten hard spanks, “Will …” ten more hard spanks, “Learn!” twenty more, until he was softly crying, so nice and red was his backside, wonderfully so!

I went after him again until he just lay there limply, bawling his eyes out. Jamal had instructed me that this could happen, that Mikie had not time enough to really accept his fate emotionally and that the pain of a domestic type spanking, the kind I was now giving him would likely start the slave grieving process. Jamal also had instructed me how to respond, so I did. I gently rubbed his red spanked bottom cheeks.

“Let it out slave. Cry. You must get used to your new life. If you please me, you will be rewarded with kindness and sometimes I will allow you to feel pleasure. If you displease me, you can see the beginnings of how harsh I can be. It’s your choice, as limited as it is. Do you understand?”

He turned his distraught face, red and wet with tears, forehead furrowed with worry and nodded, “Yes master” he said quietly.

“Louder!” I smiled and ruffled his hair for the first time.

“Yes Master!” he said appearing to try harder. I ruffled his hair again, “Good boy!” I said thinking all the while that training a slave boy was tantamount to training an intelligent canine. He gave me a slight smile for my efforts.

“Get up,” I instructed, “This time, you will just suck on the head of my cock. When I shoot my load, you will eat it all. If you do not, I am going to have to punish you, understand?”

“Yes master,” he merely mumbled, obviously not happy with his prospects.

He went down on me, nose twitching in displeasure, but this time his lips carefully tried to suck up and down on my head with a little pressure; but even that pressure was too much for my then hair-trigger libido.

“Eat it all boy!” I warned him.

He tried as I pumped out a ton of sperm into his mouth. Most of it fell out of his mouth and he gagged on the rest. He may have managed a few swallows only. I pulled him back. He looked properly chagrined.

“Keep still,” I said and licked off my own semen from around his mouth. I loved doing that, he obviously did not like it, but said nothing, wisely.

“You did not do as I ordered. You will be spanked over my lap for punishment!” I said sternly.

I spanked him again, hard, until the slave was crying honest tears once again before I stopped and parting his red butt cheeks, looked at his pucker, my pucker, my butthole to use as I saw fit.

“Get your ass up in the air,” and he did. I leaned over bridging the gap and lapped at it, rimmed his hot hole. Did he moan? No, he didn’t, not that first time, but neither did he seem to mind as if I cared.

I did check his cock, it was soft. That would change as well, over time. I put my slut back into the front seat and drove home.

For the next few days, I got Mikie used to his new home. I was sure that he was used to a fair amount of upper class surroundings. That would not change, but what would change was that he had nothing of his own. I would be his life, my home, my bedroom, my bathroom, my things. His ass was mine in all aspects and especially in bed. I made him sleep with me of course.

The first few nights were pure misery for him, cuddled, caressed and pawed at by an older adult gay male and yet, as Jamal had instructed me, by forcing my body into his, he would quickly start to get used to it. By the third night I caught him flopping his head onto my hairy chest in the middle of sleep. It would be the first time that I got an inkling that having a young male slave might be a little akin to having a real male gay partner in life to sleep with, but had no real delusions that a slave could replace that.

The end of the week marked an important and severe time for my slave. He was due into the courthouse for his first judicial caning punishment in front of his family. I had already had my training and was ready to do it. I had also got permission to make at least Ben witness my cock playing with his son’s sensibilities.

I would not f~uck him in front of Ben, but only because my Mikie’s hole was not yet ready for that. It would be enough for Ben to have to witness another man’s semen pulsating into his biological son’s open mouth or onto his caned ass and maybe worked into his tight young butthole with a couple of my fingers if I so chose.

At the appointed time, I led my slave into the punishment chamber, a lifeless place that reminded one of any remaining penitentiary execution chambers. There was sparse furniture the main one the giant adjustable black metal cross that Mikie would be bonded to by leather straps, ankle, wrist and waist. On one side of the smallish room was the large thick viewing pane on the other side of which would be Ben and Marquita Farmer. I knew Marquita, Ben’s wife. She was a bitch, just like Ben was a bastard, quite a pair really.

The curtain was not yet open. Ben and Marquita did not know who had purchased their son’s contract. I was looking forward to the utter shock and dismay on both of their faces when they found out it was me. Mikie was stripped naked, his colon purged, bladder emptied and he was fastened into position on the cross, his sweet round ass upper most. I held the thick judicial cane in my fist, shaking with excitement. Mikie started to sob, good. Ben and Marquita would be able to hear every utterance of his pain and suffering; but with any luck, my slave would not be alone in his anguish.

The officer in charge looked at me. I nodded and looked at the curtain. It opened. Ben’s eyes immediately saw me. They grew huge. Technically, we were not supposed to be able to hear anything coming from the viewing room. That did not stop Ben from yelling and screaming and pointing at me and we could hear it all well enough.

“Noo! Noo! Noo! Noo!! This can’t be! Ryan! My son! Nooo!”

I saw the hate in Marquita’s eyes. She knew without emotion what I had pulled off and started to scream, not at me, but at Ben.

“I hate you! You, stupid f~ucker!” and beat on Ben’s chest with all her might. Good for her.

“Don’t Austin Please! Please Don’t!” Ben begged me. He really did, but bullies, no matter their station in life, always beg for the worse not to happen to them even though he would never think twice if our places were switched.

I looked up at the microphone and then sneered at Ben, loudly.

“It’s just business Ben old friend, it’s not personal!” and then I struck, two hard cane cuts across the center of Mikie’s hot little ass that sent him into the loudest howl I had ever heard.

Even the officer’s eyebrows shot up in obvious appreciation up as two livid thick and angry purplish wheals quickly appeared. I was impressed and looking at the device in my fist promised myself to buy one for home use.

“Noooo!” Ben screamed and pounded the glass so hard with his fists from the other side that the matron attending the viewing area had to pull Ben away from it.

“More Ben?” I glanced derisively in Ben’s direction and then pounded my slave with two more hard cuts, both below the first.

Marquita appeared to fall to her knees in grief as Mikie screamed in pain once again. Ben’s face was torn into shreads of regret and yes, hatred; but I already knew and so did he that if he so much as moved a little finger to try and harm me or my company or try to steal his son back, he would never see the light of day again in his own prison cell for nearly the rest of his natural life.

Mikie lost his voice from screaming as I lit up his backside six more cuts in sets of two. The officer kept an eye on the computer screen at the slave’s vital signs as transmitted from his collar. Yes, he was in a state of fright and panic from the pain, but nothing critical.

By the time I was done and nodded for the officer to ready my slave for the second part of his ordeal, Marquita had fled the viewing room. She was not a part of the judicial order for Ben to have to watch the rest. I helped Mikie to standing. He fell into my arms.

“Please no more Master, Please no more Master, please no more Master!” he panted, begged, shook and sobbed quite sincerely and all for Ben Farmer to have to see and hear.

“Ryan!!” Ben’s muffled screech came through and Mikie turned his head and saw his dad. It was not supposed to be allowed, but the officer just nodded that it didn’t matter. I wanted to see what would happen.

In fact I took Mikie by the shoulders and turned him to face his father.

“This is your doing Ben, ALL your doing. You gave up your son when you taught him to act like you!” and then shoved Mikie to his knees in front of the pane and took out my hard cock.

Ben looked away. The matron, a very large woman, came forward and looked to be lecturing Ben. I could not hear her, but knew she was warning Ben away from contempt of court, a serious offence.

He turned and looked at me pounding on the glass again, “You worthless piece of shit, Miles!” he yelled angrily as he pounded on the unyielding glass pane.

I smiled calmly, looked at Ben and then down as Mikie, on his knees, looked up at me, plaintively.

“Open your mouth slave,” I said and he did.

“Eat my cum boy!” I said and then I looked directly at Ben and started to masturbate myself, my cockhead just a few inches from his son’s open maw.

“It’s just business Ben, old pal. How about we go out for drinks and dinner after? I’ll have my slave here suck you off from under the table, how about that?” I grinned ear to ear at Ben.

Ben’s mouth dropped open in a gesture of helplessness that made even me a little queasy, but I pressed on. As I got closer and closer, I moved my cockhead to right at my slave’s mouth and then shot my load. Ben’s face melted.

“I’m so sorry Ryan, so sorry!” he sobbed.

How pathetic was that? I was even sorry that Mikie had to hear it, but he was quite busy gagging and swallowing back the gags of thick spermy liquid doing better than I had thought he would, I was sure trying desperately to please me and gain no further punishment.

By now, Ben Farmer was weeping, his forehead pressed up against the glass, muttering nothing that we could hear any longer. I looked down at Mikie, “Look at your father,” and he did.

“Like what you see boy?” I asked. Mikie shook his head, “No master,” he said quietly. I ruffled his hair,

“You did well, I’m proud of you. No more punishment, we are done for now,” I said softly, smiling.

He swallowed, “Thank you Master,” with a sad tone giving his pathetic father one last glance before the curtain was closed.

That evening, I spent some time with Mikie, explaining my expectations of him. I then had us both naked on the couch and I examined his ass. It was pretty tore up and taking more of Jamal’s advice, used the occasion to medicate, soothe and be tender with him, show him the side of me that he could earn if he put his mind to it and leave his old life completely behind. I knew however that old habits and feelings may not die easily.

Chapter 3

Jamal decided to host a dinner party inviting me and my boy as well as a few guests from his slave trader’s world. Mikie had actually tried very hard to please me for most of a week before earning only a few mild punishment spankings for details forgotten. I loved those kind of spankings because they gave me a chance to introduce Mikie to pleasurable spankings, something he may never understand or enjoy, but I sure did and loved jacking his cock to hardness as I spanked him. Once he nearly came, and I praised him to high heaven.

On the night of the party, I dressed him up in the suggested slave formal attire, a very sexy pair of skimpy white cotton shorts, kind of like tennis shorts, only sheerer. That and a small white vest completed his dress. I even had a new collar for him, something that was a bit more festive and dressy. He actually seemed to appreciate it a little and I let him primp in a mirror.

That night we met the boy I had rented at auction from Jamal, #48, now more mature and named Tommy. Jamal’s older slave was called Butch, a very handsome mulatto boy with a very cheery smile and gorgeous ass. Jamal suggested that they could tutor my Mikie in servicing a party, making and serving drinks and serving food. It would also lift Mikie out of his isolation from other slave boys his age something that was encouraged by most experts. I noticed the difference right off and Mikie was actually smiling as he trotted off into the kitchen between Tommy and Butch.

“How is it going with Mikie?” Jamal asked me over cocktails, his associates listening. I explained his progress and my pleasure in it.

“You’re very lucky. I’ve heard horror stories, “ one of the guests explained and told us how some slaves never even get far from their sale before they find themselves locked up into a penal institution and r~aped to literal death after physically attacking and sometimes killing their new masters.

I had heard the stories as well, but paid them no heed. Later that evening Tommy and Butch put on a little show for us all, dancing naked together, cocks high and hard, kissing and making wonderfully lewd movements together.

“Are they gay?” I whispered to Jamal, entranced.

“No, not at all. They’ve simply given into it and now enjoy each other as well as me.”

“I’m envious,” and looked at Mikie, who sat on the floor at my feet looking pretty pensive.

Jamal pointed to Mikie and without words, suggested to me to make Mikie join them. I tapped Mikie on the shoulder and leaned over.

“Get up and join them Mikie,” I said, “I don’t know how to dance like that,” he replied.

“Just do your best,” I said, “Yes master,” he said trying to sound confident.

At first it seemed to work. Mikie danced very sexy indeed putting big smiles on all of our faces especially mine. Then Tommy got a bit forward and physical with Mikie, sliding his fingers up my slave’s ass crack and suddenly Mikie pushed Tommy hard, a scowl on his face.

“Mikie! Come here!” I barked and stood as Tommy and Butch gawked. Mikie came over to me, head down.

“What was that all about?” I asked sternly.

“Nothing, I … I just …” he stammered.

“He did nothing! He finds you attractive, that’s all. He was trying to please his master and me, you should be ashamed and you’ve disgraced me!”

“Yes Master,” Mikie said trembling all over.

“You apologize and beg for punishment.”

Mikie turned, “I apologize to everyone for my bad behavior. Please punish me Master.”

“On your knees slave and louder!” I pointed to the floor. He got on his knees, “Please punish me Master! Spank me hard, Please Master!”

I nodded and Jamal instructed Tommy to fetch me a proper chair as well as a hairbrush he kept handy. I sat down and drew Mikie over my knees. I grasped his cock for all to see as well.

“You will learn to appreciate how good you have it slave,” and then I raised the brush and paddled my naughty boy, hard.

Mikie tried not to cry in front of the other slave boys but failed and bawled loudly as I roasted his rear. I noticed that Tommy and Butch both got hard watching. I was envious. After the paddling, I stood Mikie in a corner, hands on his head.

Later that evening after the other guests had left, Jamal offered to have a sex orgy of sorts, all five of us in his massive bed. I accepted immediately if for no other reason than to get Mikie used to such things. Maybe the other boys would inspire him to at least start to enjoy male-on-male sex.

I had Mikie start by sucking on Butch’s cock. It was smaller and he seemed to like Butch better than Tommy. I was content to watch Jamal’s big black dick slide into Tommy’s wide mouth. Tommy was accomplished as Jamal was huge, larger than me and then some. It was erotic to the max. I was stroking my cock, enjoying the atmosphere and noticed Mikie doing well with Butch.

After a bit, Butch brought Mikie and himself over to me.

“May I suck your cock Master Miles,” Butch offered.

“Yes, you may Butch,” I said.

“Now watch and do as I do Mikie, you’ll please your Master,” and then he went down on me, Mikie watching on his knees.

Butch was an expert, taking all of me inside his mouth, no gagging and lavishing my cock up and down several times, smacking his lips at the end.

“Now you try,” Butch said to Mikie.

“Master, may I suck your cock please?” Mikie said a little haltingly, but I thought sincerely.

“Yes you may Mikie,” I replied and watched. He slowly went down and managed my head and then another inch of my rigid rod.

“Oh yes, that feels wonderful Mikie, just like that, Oh yes!” I gently patted his head and praised him. To my surprise, he picked up the pace and sucked harder.

“Not too much Mikie, you’re new at this,” Butch grinned. I nodded to Butch, “Thank you for helping him Butch.”

“Anytime Master Miles. You can send Mikie here and we’ll teach him all we know,” and by then Mikie was fatigued of jaw and got up.

“Would you like Tommy and Butch to teach you slave?” I asked my boy.

“Yes Master, I would,” he said seeming more confident.

After that, I had Mikie just lay on my chest and play with my cock with his hand as we watched Jamal and his boys perform an exotic three way daisy chain f~uck, Tommy in front, Butch next and Jamal in back of Butch. I looked down very pleased, Mikie’s cock was hard, but he ignored it. I choose to do the same as it had been enough for one night.

Jamal sent us home with a gift of a new set of graduated dildos so that I could train and teach Mikie to use them to get used to anal sex. On the way home, I told Mikie it would be his responsibility to take each one in turn and learn to use them on himself with lube. I told him he would put on a show for me using a dildo up his ass and would be allowed to jack off in front of me. He could only cum if he had at least half the dildo inside of himself starting with the smallest of the four sizes.

Let’s face it, boys love sex, and given enough deprivation at eighteen plus years old, no boy can long resist the command to cum no matter how. That’s how Mikie started to learn to enjoy sex, maybe not yet with me, but at least in my presence. Those dildos seemed to be the key and for three weeks he seemed to flourish in showing off his prowess in front of me, slowly pushing the dildo up his hole as I watched. I enjoyed it too and let him jack himself off in front of me, but when I finally took him to bed one night and decided he needed to learn how to take a little of my cock inside of himself, things took a sour turn.

Mikie jumped away from me as he felt my cock enter his hole, “No please Master! It hurts too much, please!”

“You have to do it slave. You’ve done it in front of me with the third dildo, half way.”

“I know, but this is different Master, please don’t make me!”

I suspected that my old friend Jamal would be correct. He had warned me that the dildos make nice “pets” as he put it, but having a Master’s cock up the ass would be a big psychological hurdle. The solution was unfortunately severe.

I snapped my fingers at him, “Get me the strap, the large one.”

He paled, “Please no Master, OK, I’ll do it, I’ll try, please not the strap,” he hated the strap.

I snapped my fingers again. He knew better than to risk a third snap and took off running to get the strap. Remember that judicial cane? I had bought one. A third snap of my fingers meant ten cuts of that thick cane, something Mikie found good to avoid.

He quickly returned and glumly handed me the leather length and I handed him back the law.

“Five licks and then you decide that you’re going to beg me to be f~ucked up your ass all the way. If you don’t, five more and we’ll do this five licks at a time either until you give in or at fifty, you’ll get five from the large cane,” I trapped him into reality.

His face fell and he started to sob, “Stop that whining!” I shouted at him and he did stop and looked at me trembling all over.

I stood and pointed for him to get into position at the end of the bed. He did and bent over presenting his bare ass to me. I raised the strap and gave him five of the hardest licks I had ever given him. He screamed hard with leach of the five licks. I paused, “Well?”

“I can’t Master! I can’t do it!” he said and started to cry. I sighed and gave him five more licks. To his credit, he didn’t try to avoid the strikes, he perched his butt up high, his distraught face red and wet.

“And now?” I asked, drenched in my own sweat.

He pounded the sheets with his balled up firsts, “I can’t take more whipping Master, I have to take your cock instead. Please fu … please … fu … f~uck me!” he said and then burying his face into the mattress, bawled even harder.

Once again, Jamal to the rescue, for me that is. He told me how much Butch had resisted him, that he had taken such a beating so many times before he gave in to his first and second butt f~uckings. He warned me that Mikie was used to having his way as a rich boy and especially now that he was being asked to give me his very last and perhaps most precious possession, his virginity.

To an extent, I felt sorry for my slave. I’m sure his life was a big disappointment to himself, his shame endless and his emotions beyond his understanding. I thought about forcing him. I could, it was my right. I could have Mikie screaming in mind-numbing pain, probably enough to pass out and he could do nothing about it. Would that be a cruelty? Where was the line, especially in the New Order?

“Stand up,” I told him. He pushed himself up, his face a mess of snot and tears. He was trembling, hard. He looked terrified. I guess I knew where the line was now. I took his hand in mine.

“Get in the shower, make the water hot and steamy, “I said calmly going back to one of my favorite things in life, hot showers with hot men.

“Yes Master,” he said with a gravelly but grateful sounding voice. I watched him walk into the bedroom’s capacious shower. I waited until it was nice and steamy inside before I entered.

I had showered with my slave every night since bringing him home. He knew how to please me there, washing me, attending to my body. He had been very stiff using his hands on my body at first, but had gradually relaxed and now even seemed to enjoy the wash and massage sessions in the lavish running hot water. I would wash him as well as fondling his genitals and running a finger in and out of his hole and he seemed to enjoy some of it to an extent.

That night in the shower, Mikie seemed to have enlivened himself. It felt to me as if it was an escape for him there, a haven of sorts. It was only an illusion of course. I could r~ape him in the shower if I wished and he would have to take it from me, but I chose not to. I was curious on this night what might happen if I just let go of my need to take and force his virginity from him on that night, a temporary reprieve at best.

Jamal had told me once that choice is a matter of perspective and that Mikie’s perceptions of his life’s choices must drastically change as well. The choices he used to have were now gone forever, but he could be taught new ones, new goals and new satisfactions.

“May I ask you a question Master?” Mikie said as he washed my shoulders. It startled me. I was deep in thought about nothing important and he had rarely asked questions of any import.

“Yes, you may,” I replied.

“I know you have to f~uck my butt and take my virginity. Butch told me it might go easier for me if you let me on top to try some. Not to really take my virginity. He said that has to be from behind. But if you let me take in your cock on my own a little, maybe it would help?”

I looked down and closed my eyes, grinning ear to ear very pleased with him and with myself. My patience had paid off.

“Very well, that’s what we will try,” I said and for the very first time, he hugged me! He did, he hugged me.

“Thank you Master! I want to try and please you!” and he sounded genuine.

We got into bed after he toweled me off and I took my time toweling him off. He seemed enlivened to try and please me and got the lube ready. I lay down on my back, my cock very ready, but I instructed him to spend some time sucking on my dick. He even smiled and nodded, “Yes Master,” and did a good job until his jaw tired.

Then he straddled himself over my erection and I stared, his own cock was hard, but I said nothing. He lubed up his hole and my cock. He said nothing then and looked to be concentrating on his task. He lowered himself down on my cock head. He closed his eyes and used his hands, one to guide my cock, the other to aid his hole with a finger. I could see his sessions with Butch and Tommy had been well spent.

I began to feel myself going inside of him, bit by bit. He seemed OK with it until it got to the point of breaking through his tight inner ring. His eyes opened, he looked worried.

“It’s this way with the biggest dildo Master. It doesn’t want to go in,” he said and I looked up at him.

“What will happen now slave?” I asked him. He swallowed hard, “Butch said, I have to do it. I have to let you in, no matter how much it hurts. He said it nearly killed him with pain his first time with Master Jamal, but he did it and said I could do it too.” And then he got off of me and kneeled and waited for me to get up.

When I did, he got in front of me on all fours, his hands grabbing hard onto the headboard.

“My Master must be obeyed because he is my Master. Please Master, f~uck your boy,” he said rather dispassionately and more like resignation.

I lubed myself and then Mikie. I pushed my dickhead onto his tight orifice. His butt cheeks clenched at first, but then relaxed. His hips withdrew at first, but then pushed back a little. I was prepared for him to resist, but once I started this, I would force myself into him so that we could finally get passed what would be the hardest pain of Mikie’s young life. I drew in a breath, fixed my hands onto his hips and then, I pushed inside of him without mercy.

I was ready for his reaction. He screamed as he tried desperately to push me out of him, but I pinned him flat down under me on the bed. I just held him as tightly as I could to myself and waited for the awful spasming pain to subside. We were both drenched in a sweat as if we had never showered. I said nothing, but did feel an elation inside of me, a mixture of relief, joy and yes, a large measure of revenge. I had truly and literally f~ucked over Ben Farmer through his son. Like it or not, I enjoyed that part the most.

I felt Mikie calm, “OK, the worst is over, now back up on your knees like before.”

“Yes Master,” Mikie said hoarsely and got back up. From there, things went OK. I knew I could not f~uck him long and hard at first, his insides were too virginal for that, but cumming inside of him that night was a thing of beauty for me, if not for him.

Chapter 4

The news that Marquita Farmer had divorced Ben Farmer was no news at all. She had only been a gold digger after all, no surprise there. What was a surprise came a month later in that Ben Farmer had been caught flat footed by a very strong and upcoming competitor, Klaus Brenner, a German man who I managed to stave off from taking my company. Ben not only did not survive but ended up penniless and incarcerated on a charge of assault and battery against Klaus. Even I could not have guessed that Ben Farmer would have crossed that ugly line.

Things had gone so well since Mikie’s deflowering that I contemplated not telling him about his father but changed my mind waiting until the right moment. Mikie was now up for his second and last judicial punishment. During the process, his father would be let out of prison to be forced to witness his son’s second humiliation.

This time I was ready for Ben, there would be no surprises from him; but Mikie was a different story. He had wisely begged me to make him ready for his punishment. So I had, lavishing praise on him not only for that idea but also for his overall progress. Jamal assured me that I was a lucky man to have gotten so far with Mikie’s training as I had. I gave him three no nonsense strokes of our thick cane every three days until this final official punishment day.

He marched into the chamber once again after the official purged his colon and he had emptied his bladder. He stripped naked.