A pleasant vibration at his groin instantly snapped boy brent's thoughtsback from the Friday morning engineering meeting. He glanced down atthe silently humming skypager.
991. Mr Benson again.
All thru this Boston business trip Mr. B had ensured that he wouldnever be far from boy brent's thoughts. Mr. Benson certainly knewhow to put a Skypager to creative new uses:
991 - smack your balls 992 - smack them _REALLY_ hard 993 - put on the butt plug 994 - put on the tit clamps 995 - jerk your cock, get close but don't you dare come 996 - put a finger in your mouth and swirl your tongue around it 997 - lick your lips, purr, and think of me 998 - call me 999 - [I'll never tell! -- bb]
Mr. Benson had certainly made active use of the codes. He'd kept hisboy busy every couple of hours for the past three days, putting himthrough the paces. But now -- at last -- it was Friday. The boyhurriedly transacted the last of his business and was soon soaringaway from Boston toward his long-anticipated encounter with Mr. Benson.
The plane touched down early in Philadelphia, and the boy had time tochange into something more comfortable: leather boots, faded blue jeans,chaps, vest, black t-shirt, jacket, cap. Mr. Benson had never laid eyeson the boy before this, and it wouldn't do for them to miss each otherin the busy airport. The youngster then took his appointed place in frontof the metal detectors, waited, and took secret glee in the stares ofthe bypassers.
Mr. B loomed before him suddenly without warning. Smiling, he kissed hisboy hello as he fastened a collar around his neck. Mr Benson then slappedon a pair of beautiful black handcuffs, concealing them with a scarf. Theythen set out for the train to downtown, the boy skipping happily behindhis master and observing what a big, muscular, handsome man Mr. Benson was.
After leading him handcuffed for several blocks through downtown Philadelphia,they arrived at Mr. Benson's comfortable home in the city's gay ghetto.The boy was soon standing naked before his master, still handcuffed.Mr. Benson explored his body, testing his responsiveness, probing forsensitive areas. There seemed to be no shortage of them as boy brentgrowled, groaned, purred, and moaned whereever Mr. Benson's fingers played.Satisfied with his initial explorations, Mr. Benson grasped his boy's nuts,gave them a hard yank, and clapped on a ball stretcher. They then kissedfor a long time until Mr. Benson ordered boy brent to dress for dinner,omitting the underwear.
Strolling down the street after their meal, they turned into Afterwords,a bookstore/card shop in Philadelphia's gay ghetto. There were quite a fewpeople in the store tonight, and as he browsed through cards Mr. Bensonordered his boy to kneel at his feet and clean his boots. The boy gavethem the loving tonguebath they deserved, craving as he did the murmurs ofenvy from the other patrons. Mr. B then bent down, opened the fly on brent's501s to partially expose his excited boymeat, and publicly explored him.boy brent's cheeks burned hot with humiliation as Mr. Benson paraded himslowly around the shop, his crotch opened for all to behold. Mr. Bensonthen ran into one of his friends who openly admired his handiwork. boy brenthad never felt so proud to be so humiliated.
After a brief visit to the Bike Stop and another yummy bootlicking, theyheaded home. Upon arriving, master ordered the boy to strip, blindfoldedhim and ordered him to lie on the mattress on the floor.
A stretching sound and the feel of plastic wrapping around his chest toldboy brent he was about to be treated to his first mummification scene."Remember to breathe," he heard his master advise, and brent inhaled andheld his breath as the saran wrap wound around and around his chest, bindinghis arms to his sides, before Mr. Benson sealed it tight with a outercovering of duct tape. He then repeated the procedure on the boy's legs.
Mr. Benson left the boy's side, and brent heard a rustling sound. A bagof somethings was being emptied onto his chest, bouncing off the plasticand clattering across the mattress. Clothespins! One by one Mr. Bensonattached them to the boy's tender young scrotum, too many to count, thenall the way up his engorged boymeat right up to the glans. At first itwas painful, then intense, until the boy broke free at last through thatshimmering glowing doorway he'd only seen just briefly before. It washeavenly; the boy's mind was flying high, floating on a cloud of endorphins.Dreamily, he was aware that in some other reality Mr. Benson was fiddlingwith something;
Too soon, it seemed, the clothespins began to come off, the last ones appliedcoming off first so that each successive pin removed was more painful thanthe last. brent was soaring higher and higher into the stratosphere witheach one. Finally after the last one was removed he gently glided back downto earth. He felt his master kiss him deeply for a long time, before movingaway a little. "Kiss me," he ordered. When the boy could not comply
Then a new sound. Metal against metal -- the sound of a knife beingsharpened. The boy felt the keen edge of the blade gently caress edge ofhis chest, travelling slowly down his stomach, down to his testicles.He could feel the edge press against his scrotum, then the weight of a
Something in the boy broke and the calmness of acceptance came over him."Take them, sir. I trust you to know what's best." He felt his master'shand tenderly brush his cheek, his master's lips press up against his own,his master's hand stroking him now, causing the cum to begin to rise inhis doomed balls, before they finally betrayed their owner and pumpedwad after wad of cum high into the air. The slaveboy screamed andgroaned in defeat, ecstasy and terror, knowing that the moment of truth hadarrived for him at last. He braced himself for the knife.
The knife whacked down against the cutting board and agonizing painexploded in his nuts. He'd been slapped very very hard. The boysighed in pain, pleasure and relief, even as his master moanedand sprayed hot semen all over his blindfolded face. They kissedfor a very long time, and rested peacefully. Finally his master slicedhim loose from the saran wrap, each cut releasing more of his constrictedflesh, until his chest was unbound and the boy gulped sweet fresh air intohis starved lungs.
Weak, tired and defenseless, the boy curled up against his master in bed,felt his warmth, ran his little hand through the beautiful carpet of auburnhair covering his master's chest and back. They kissed sweetly and the boycradled his head against Mr. Benson's chest. What a magnificent man.
* * *
boy brent awoke the next morning and immediately cuddled in Mr. Benson'sprotective arms. He ran his hand up and down his master's body and curledhis fingers luxuriantly through his chest and back hair. Mr. Benson leanedover and gently kissed him. Good morning! The boy was instantly hard andready to go at it again. They made love in the early light of morning.
Later, after cleaning up, the boy dressed as instructed and accompanied hismaster to breakfast, followed by a trip to the Reading Terminal public market.All along the way Mr. B. kept running into his many friends and acquaintences,and to each one he introduced the boy in the collar. boy brent began tofeel his master was friends with so many people he could be elected mayor.The boy read the envy registering on their faces and felt very proud; theywould have traded places with him in a second, but Mr. Benson had placedthe collar on *him*. The boy reached up, stroked it and smiled dreamily.
Returning home from the shopping trip, Mr. Benson immediately ordered theboy to strip, blindfolded him, and tied him securely to the floor of theapartment. After a little while the door buzzer sounded. "Well, boy, itlooks like we've got some company. Heh heh heh." boy brent heard footstepsand the sound of the door opening, hushed conversation at the door, thenfelt four sets of hands caressing his body. Mr Benson's voice: "Make himfeel good. He likes his balls hit." brent tensed as the first blowspummeled his exposed boynuts, each sending electric bolts of pain shooting uphis spine. The boy was stimulated seemingly everywhere at once -- kissed,punched, prodded, whipped, licked, caressed, fingered, slapped. He felt theother bottom cover the top of him in a protective position, absorbing thebrunt of the punishment Mr. Benson doled out with his whip. The boy brushedthe other bottom tenderly with his cheek, wishing he could absorb the painfor his friend. The mystery bottom then sat up on the boy's chest, placedhis cock in the boy's mouth, and Mr. Benson began to whip the other bottom'sass and the boy's nipples in a figure 8 pattern. Mr. B then grasped the boy'scock and coaxed his cum out in thick gobs, followed shortly by the otherbottom shooting all over boy brent's face and hair, followed in rapidsuccession by Mr. Benson blasting his own semen all over both of them.boy brent never saw mystery bottom's face, learned his name, or even heardthe sound of his voice. But the memory of what they shared would never beforgotten.
The boy fell into a deep slumber.
* * *
He awoke to a toothsome smell -- it was almost time for dinner. Mr. Bensontold him to expect guests for dinner, Jim and John. boy brent paused andthought those names sounded very familiar, until he remembered the sceneMr. Benson had posted earlier to the gl-asb list at a meeting of the PBC.
Jim and John turned out to be quite intellegent, charming, and extremelyhot men. The evening passed quickly, the guests showering Mr. Bensonwith compliments on the delicious vegetarian dinner he'd prepared, beforetime for the dessert rolled around and the boy was ordered to disrobe forthe guests. Jim and John took turns torturing his tits as they shedtheir clothes; both of them turned out to have truly enormous endowments.Jim, John and Mr. Benson then went to work on boy brent for a while,playing with his tits, slapping his nuts, and using him as a convenient hole.The lovers then slowly fucked as the boy cuddled against his master andwatched the show. They built to a frenzied climax assisted by the boyand his master.
Afterwards, Mr. Benson was feeling in an expansive and generous mood andasked his boy if there was any scene he particularly wanted to do.
The boy's face beamed in response. Oh yes, sir, there was. Hot wax.
* * *
As Jim and John pinned the blindfolded boy down, Mr Benson dripped hotwax over his chest, nipples, underarms, stomach, cock, balls and ass.brent began once more to moan and growl and purr as little bits of fireneedled his body. The growls gradually faded into giggles becoming howlsof laughter as the endorphins kicked in, making the hot little dropletsof wax tickle intensely. boy brent was soon uncontrollably gasping andquaking in laughter with tears coursing down his cheeks, causing Mr. Bensonand his friends to begin to laugh in delight as they pinned him down.Jim and John asked Mr. Benson if he would consider loaning out his boyto his friends sometime. It was a bouyant end to a wonderful evening.Jim and John took their leave of Mr. Benson, leaving behind one exhaustedbut very happy slave boy.
* * *
Sunday morning shortly before boy brent was to depart for the return tripto Portland, Mr. Benson shared with him what the clicking sound had been.
The Polaroids revealed the clothespins arranged in a beautiful fannedpattern. Such an consummate artist!
--boy brentFeburary 25, 1993Portland, OR
dedicated to the one and only Mr. Benson, with many thanksfor the wildest and most wonderful ride of my life-->Subject: The continuing adventures of boy brent>Date: Fri, 9 Apr 1993 04:13:38 GMT
Mr. Benson stood leaning against the open foyer door asboy brent emerged from the gathering dusk. The collared boybroke out in a broad grin as he dropped his bags and threwhis arms about his host's neck. They kissed in the open doorwaybefore Mr. Benson hoisted his boy's bags and ushered himinside. The door closed behind them with a soft click.
Play would come later. Now it was time to reunite and rediscover.
* * *
boy brent stirred in his sleep. Dim objects in the room gave off asoft pale glow, illuminated by the moonlight shimmering through thebedroom window. The boy heard Mr. Benson's quiet steady breathingas he slumbered beside him, felt his reassuring body heat warminghis skin. The slaveboy rolled over on his side to gently spoon himas much as the ropes would allow.
* * *
The slaveboy walked down the streets of Philadelphia, basking in the brightwarm sunshine. He carried before him a large pile of laundry, the firstof his assigned chores on this Friday morning. Mr. Benson had been generoustoday; after the laundry and the dishes he'd given his boy leave to enjoythe rest of the day off. boy brent whistled happily as he continued onhis way to the laundrymat, sensuously rubbing his neck against the shinyblack leather of his slave's collar.
* * *
Mr. Benson returned home from work shortly after 5 PM that evening.
He reminded the boy there would be other guests that weekend, and that aspart of his duties he would be expected to provide sexual entertainment forthe guests whenever and in whatever form Mr. Benson wished. After dressing,Mr. Benson handcuffed and leashed his slaveboy and led him to the Bike Stopfor the preliminaries were being held for the Ms. and Mr. PhiladelphiaLeather contests. While waiting for the contestants to be introduced,Mr. Benson showed off his puppy's obedience training to the patrons of thebar, ordering him to kneel, bark, and lick the boots of several dominantwomen of Female Trouble, including Father Amelia's (who received aparticulary affectionate and lavish boot cleaning!) In return the womenof the Philly leather community welcomed him warmly, evidently having a softspot in their hearts for puppies wandering far from home.
While this was taking place Mr. Benson had rounded up his other weekendguests, JF and Stephen, two very hot men.
* * *
Midnight. Four tired leathermen slouch in an all-night diner, fried eggsstaring up at them like jaundiced eyes as O Solo Mio buzzes from a tinnytableside speaker.
* * *
Heading home, they reached the JF's rental car. After throwing JF'sbags into the trunk, Mr. Benson told boy brent to hop in; he climbed intothe trunk with the rest of the baggage. The trunk shut with a whump, thecar started up, and inside the trunk the little light went out as the lastpassenger door shut.
The boy could feel the car begin to drive away. Inside the trunk it waspitch dark, stuffy and extremely confining with the luggage taking upmost of the room.
It was kind of like being buried alive. Suddenly the air seemed todisappear. He labored for breath. He had forgotten something,something important.
He was claustrophobic.
At that instant the car came to a stop. The boy began to pound on the trunk.The lid of his coffin opened and the boy rolled out of his grave, heavingand gasping for air. After a moment he regained his senses enoughto recognize Mr. Benson's concerned face hovering over him; the car hadstopped at the gate of the garage, and were right now they being stared atby the parking attendant, his mouth a capital O of astonishment.
* * *
Home again. His wrists and ankles bound, the boy knelt before JF.
"You are never to touch your dick without my permission. If I docatch you touching yourself, you're going to find out what truepain is. Not enjoyable pain, but punishment pain. The kind thatwill make you wish you'd never been born."
The boy gave his assent.
The entertainment began.
* * *
The boy stiffly stretched on the hard floor, his wrists still padlockedtogether from the night before, his ankles still chained to the eyeboltset into the floor, his eyes still blindfolded. He gathered it wasmorning from the stirring and shuffling he heard around him; Mr. Benson wasleaving to go running. No sooner was the boy's blindfold removed and hisankles unshackled than his face was thrust onto someone's cock; . It wasa beautiful cock, perfectly formed. The boy began to worship it with hismouth when he suddenly felt Stephen's hands on the back of his head, pushinghim down, the cock pressing insistantly onto to the back of his throat,gagging him. He was choking now, tears streaming out his eyes and snotcascading down his nose, but still the hand refused to relent or take pity.His balls were being crushed in someone's vicelike grip. The boy tried tomake the best of it, tried to practice his art, but the rough hands wouldpermit no subtlety now; he was just a convenient hole. All he could dowas endure.
A reminder that enjoyment is a luxury for a slaveboy.
* * *
The contest title JF held carried with it certain obligations whichrequired his ongoing presence this weekend. After a light breakfastat the Reading Terminal, he parted company with the others, who spent therest of the afternoon shopping and browsing. The boy's burden of packagesgrowing heavier as the day wore on.
Finally they arrived home again. Mr. Benson pulled out a leatherstraightjacket, confined and blindfolded Stephen; he then gave hisboy permission to play with Stephen's cock. Mr. Benson then went offto prepare dinner.
boy brent got an evil smile. He began to give Stephen head, the wayit ought to be done. Slowly. Lovingly. With exquisite attention todetail and with no hurry at all. boy brent was using all his cocksuckingskills to make Stephen groan with pleasure and need.
The boy's tongue then licked down the shaft onto the balls and over thethighs, to a spot just above the thighs, below and to the side of thestomach -- one of the most ticklish spots on the body. boy brent nowbegan to work his pleasant revenge on this spot. Stephen's groans ofpleasure became giggles, then laughter, then hysterical gasps of painas the boy continued to relentlessly lick and lick and lick on this mostsensitive spot.
Stephen was squirming desparately in the straightjacket, helplessto escape from the slaveboy's seeking tongue causing his abdomenalmuscles to spasm and twitch and buck and cramp. Just as it seemedhe could stand no more, the boy returned to his cock again,worshiping this beautifully formed phallus as Stephen's chest heavedand drank in sweet oxygen. This was the way the boy preferred towork his art. Soon Stephen was moaning with pleasure again.
boy brent continued in this way, alternating between tonguepleasureand tonguetorture, for a couple of hours. Finally it was time torelease Stephen. Mr. Benson sent him out to the store to retrievesome butter. He came back with several items, but no butter, stammeringthat there was this cute boy in the dairy aisle, and he forgot...
Over the next 24 hours Stephen would be made to pay for that oversightagain and again.
* * *
The evening passed uneventfully. The three had arrived too late tosee the Ms. Philadelphia Leather contest, and the rest of the eveningwas a routine night at the bars.
They reunited with JF, and at midnight returned home. Carrying outMr. Benson's orders, boy brent went to the bedroom and stripped.Mr. Benson produced the black leather straightjacket -- the same oneStephen had been wearing -- and fastened it on the boy, then blindfoldedhim and laid him out on the bed.
The boy lay breathing quietly. No upper body movement was possible andthe jacket was very heavy. In the darkness boy brent overheard JFgiving instruction to Stephen in the next room:
"You are never to touch your dick without my permission. If I docatch you touching yourself, you're going to find out what truepain is. Not enjoyable pain, but punishment pain. The kind thatwill make you wish you'd never been born."
The boy smiled to himself and drifted off to sleep.
* * *
boy brent awoke with a start.
The apartment was quiet now. The jacket was oppressively hot and stuffy.Breathing was an effort. He still couldn't move. His throat was parchedand he longed for a drink of water.
He had no idea what time it was or how much longer he'd been in this jacket.He could hear Mr. Benson slumbering beside him. All he had to do wasreach out with his foot and tap him awake and he could be free...
His breaths were more difficult now, each requiring a conscious effort.He was having another claustrophobia attack and he was beginning to panic.
Gradually the boy faded into unconsciousness again.
* * *
He awoke again, drenched with sweat. His mouth was dry andhis breaths were coming in heaving gulps. It was time to end this.
He reached out and tapped Mr. Benson. He heard the topman stir andask what he needed. "Water please Sir." Mr. Benson squirted a streamof water into the boy's parched mouth from a squeeze bottle, thenon the boy's request he unfastened the straps and released him.He sat up and stretched his arms, which felt wonderfully alive andtingly. The sudden rush of cool air felt wonderful against his damphot skin.
It was 5 AM. He had made it thru the night. Mr. Benson kissed him onthe forehead. "I'm proud of you boy." They were still spooning as theboy drifted off to sleep again.
* * *
By the time the boy awoke preparations were already underway for thebrunch. Mr. Benson had already been up for hours making a cake forhis guests. Stephen had been ordered to write the shopping list oflast minute items onto an Etcha-Sketch and take it to the store withhim lest he forget again. He was mercilessly teased with butter jokesall morning.
The brunch guests -- Mr. Benson's handsome friends Jim and John, andSH -- a hot young man -- began arriving at 11. After demolishing thedelicious brunch, it was time for the piercing scene.
boy brent was tied down nude, spreadeagled, blindfolded as JF got outhis needles and got to work. Before JF pierced the hafadas, boy brentsaid a few words.
"My nipple piercings were for my journey. i now dedicate this new piercingto the vessel of my journey, my body. i'm not going to listen to anyonetrying to convince me that it's dirty or that i should be afraid of mybody ever again."
boy brent took three deep breaths and JF thrust the needle in. Therewas a sudden sharp pain, then it was over; in total it lasted perhapshalf a second. The ring was fitted and that piercing was done.
The boy was flying at this point, his body swaying gently to the Indianmusic Mr. Benson had chosen for this scene. The same process was repeatedfor the second hafada and the two frenums. By the last piercing theboy gasped in pain; the needle was worn out.
It was over. His bonds were unfastened and he shakily got to his feet,his blindfold was removed and they admired his new rings and barbells.JF had done a very nice job. The boy's erection swelled proudly toshow off its new adornment.
boy brent then got on his knees and thanked Mr. Benson's guests properly.
* * *
It was time to go. boy brent and Mr. Benson embraced outside the entranceof the Bike Stop.
"Am i still your boy?""You're my boy."
They parted and the boy walked away in the drizzle. Halfway down thealley he turned and looked back over his shoulder.
Mr. Benson was gone.
-->Subject: The continuing adventures of boy brent.>Date: Sun, 16 May 1993 19:19:37 GMT
Tuesday night.
Kneeling before him, boy brent gently hefted Barry's testiclesin the palm of one hand as he examined the underside of hiserect penis, searching for the proper placement. Satisfied,he marked the entry and exit points with a fine-point pen,carefully cleaning any stray marks with alcohol applied witha Kleenex folded into a point. He measured the width of thedots to be sure the barbell would fit.
The boy's heart raced as he donned latex gloves, swabbed Barry'sskin with Betadine, carefully applied the forceps, then picked upthe hollow needle and cork. His hands were steady, which was good:marksmanship is crucial in piercing.
The room grew quiet. Dan stood by the boy, holding the forceps,as boy brent's entire being now focused on a tiny black dot justbelow the underside of Barry's glans. He positioned the needlein his right hand, holding it with a bit of paper towel, with thecork at the ready in his right.
"Barry, take a deep breath." Both of them breathed in tandem."Let it out. Another one. Another one..."
The blood was roaring in his ears as the slaveboy drove the hollowneedle thru with a quick, firm push. He felt the resistance of thecork as Barry let out a little yelp, as much in surprise as in pain.In his excitement the boy had thrust the needle in a little too hardand firmly embedded it into the cork; it took a few seconds to get itout.
Everyone plateaued for a moment, relaxing a bit off the intensity of themoment. The jewelry inserted, they all gathered round to admire Barry'snew frenum.
The boy's spirit soared and danced.
* * *
Saturday night.
The boy leaned against the rail of the PDX Eagle, his collar tetheredto a post by the leash. His back bared, he braced himself and preparedto receive the first blow.
Whap whap whap, Barry started out the flogging by working on hisshoulderblades, crisscrossing in a figure-8 pattern as the boy settledinto the whipping. All eyes in the packed bar were on them; this wasan unusual event for this leather bar, where S&M usually meant standand model.
A quarter hour passed. The strikes were growing more intense, successivelyalternating between a soft caresses and hard heavy thuds. The flat whapsof the heavy blows could be heard all over the bar, punctuated byoccasional groans as the slaveboy gritted his teeth and endured thepain. Barry was getting pretty good at this.
They were now a half hour into the session. Barry had backed off tomore moderate strokes now, pausing occasionally to caress and lick hisboy bottom's back. boy brent began to gyrate and writhe to the strokesas the endorphins pumped and surged thru his system. So this was waswhat hog heaven was like, he thought to himself.
45 minutes into the flogging, it was getting intense. The blows wereraining down heavy now, without respite: WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! The boy wastrying to mumble his mantra to himself between screams. He began to movehis back from side to side to try to ward off the licks from his mostraw and tender spots, to no avail. Approaching his limit, he began to sinkto his knees.
The blows stopped.
The backslaps started.
The flats of Barry's palms went pat pat pat over brent's tender heatedskin, increasing quickly in intensity to a pounding almost hard enough toknock the breath out of him. The boy gripped the post with his remainingstrength now and just held on. Still the slaps continued -- the boyscreaming and mumbling his mantra -- until his knees gave way at lastand he collapsed to the floor, his neck still tethered to the post.
Unseen hands helped him up and gave him a drink. The pain removed, hismind quickly cleared. He had forgotten he was in a bar, and the flogginghad drawn quite a crowd of onlookers -- some faces wore incredulousexpressions, others hungry ones.
The boy smiled as he studied the hungry faces and committed them to memory.--boy brent (B4) htw-[csegk]++ |bcapps@agora.rain.com (gay stuff) | May all your sins be original.bcapps@atlastele.com (telecom stuff) |ÿ