by Ty Marton
“That’s… not true,” Colby choked out.
John looked straight into Colby’s eyes, his grip slowly loosening. Finally, he released the boy, and turned back towards the doorway.
“This was a mistake,” he said. “I shouldn’t have let you stay here. I thought I was ready… but I wasn’t.”
Colby took a few deep breaths. “John… Who hurt you?”
John’s shoulders slumped, his facade starting to crumble.
“My last boy,” he finally said, his back still to Colby. “Years ago. You… remind me of him.”
Colby reached out, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder. If John didn’t want it there, he didn’t give any indication.
“What happened?” Colby asked.
“I don’t much want to talk about it,” John said. “He was a former student of mine, about your age at the time. We… connected. Suffice it to say that in the end he disappointed me greatly. Used me. Betrayed me. I’ve been alone ever since. I guess I’m taking it out on you a little bit. And you’re right. It’s wrong of me.”
Colby stepped forward again, standing directly behind his Master, embracing a side of him that he never imagined he’d see. “I’m sorry,” he said, wrapping an arm around John’s chest and lowering his head onto the man’s shoulder. Slowly, John raised his hand, taking hold of Colby’s forearm and giving it a grateful, knowing squeeze.
“Come on,” he said quietly. “Let’s get your things and get you dressed. You can stay in the guest bedroom tonight – I’ll drive you into town first thing in the morning.”
He was offering Colby a safe exit from what had proven to be a hasty and perhaps reckless connection. And there, in John’s kitchen, in that moment… Colby knew that he didn’t want it.
“I promised you twenty-four hours,” Colby said.
“I know what you promised me…”
“You asked me to trust you... I trust you, Master. More now than ever.”
John hung his head, giving Colby’s arm another squeeze. “I told you, Colby… I’m not ready for this. No matter how much I want to be.”
But Colby wasn’t prepared to give up. Tugging at John’s shoulder, he turned the man around, looking him in the eye.
“I told you I wanted to learn from you. You asked me what you could learn from me.”
“Colby…”
“I told you I didn’t know, and I didn’t. But I know now.”
“Colby, I…”
Colby dropped to his knees in front of the man, staring up at him unblinkingly. “I’m not giving up on you, Master,” he said. “Please… don’t give up on me. Or yourself.”
The two held each other’s stare for a few moments, an entire, unspoken conversation transpiring between them. Then, without another word, Colby turned, crawling on the floor back towards the table, back to the plate. Calmly, almost solemnly, he lowered his face into the food, licked up a mouthful of rice, and began to chew.
The boy knew his place.
A few moments later, John took a few slow steps forward, until he was standing over the young man, looking down at him with curious sense of dawning pride. He found himself smiling, in spite of himself.
“…Good boy,” he said, the words barely escaping his lips.
**********
Chapter 6
Just five minutes later, Colby was giving the plate one last hearty lick, leaving it more or less spotless, exactly as John had instructed him.
“Finished?” John asked, leaning against his antique refrigerator with his arms crossed, enjoying the view of his apprentice on all fours, ass in the air. Colby turned to look up at him, giving a soft nod of the head. “Good,” John said, moving beside him and bending down to retrieve the plate from the floor. “We’ll spend the rest of the evening back in the shop. I don’t know about you, but I feel like making something…”
And so the two made their way back out to John’s studio, where John quickly retrieved a few two by fours, handing them to Colby. “I’ve got an idea,” John told him. “Something I’ve never made before…”
There was a new energy to him – in Colby’s eyes, the man almost seemed like a younger version of himself. He was quick on his feet, moving around the studio and gathering supplies, mumbling under his breath as he calculated a plan. It was a stark contrast to the bitter, defeated side of the man Colby had been introduced to in the kitchen. Colby liked this John much better.
John led Colby through the process, never revealing what exactly he had in mind. After having Colby measure the wood and saw it off at a marked point, John showed Colby how to use the planer, sending the planks through and shaving them down to a desired thickness. Later, they fired up an old sawdust-covered bandsaw, John showing Colby how to cut precise curves into the wood without losing a thumb.
“Now, this wood needs to be sanded down,” John said as he flicked the switch on the bandsaw back to the “off” setting. “I trust you know where and how to do that…”
Colby smiled and offered a happy, “Yes, Master,” hurrying over to the workbench with the wood and getting right to work with a fresh, gritty piece of sandpaper.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes, boy,” he growled, his mouth curled ever-so-slightly into a sly smile. “Don’t you dare miss a spot.”
As John stepped away, making his way toward the dungeon, Colby couldn’t contain himself, a grin spreading over his face as he worked the sandpaper back and forth across each face and edge of the wood. For the first time in what seemed like forever to him, Colby felt like he was right where he was supposed to be, doing exactly what he was supposed to be doing. Seeing John’s reinvigorated sense of confidence gave Colby a swelling sense of satisfaction – no longer was he simply doing whatever John told him to do. He was serving this man, a word that seemed to carry more and more meaning by the second.
“Let’s see it, boy,” John said, breaking Colby’s train of thought. The boy turned, smoothed-out wood in hand. What he found nearly brought a gasp out of him: John had changed his wardrobe.
Gone was the red flannel shirt. The John standing before Colby now was shirtless, wearing only a tight black leather vest that offered a generous glimpse of the man’s surprisingly chiseled physique, muscles acquired over a lifetime of hard work. The dusty old blue jeans were gone as well, replaced with a pair of leather chaps that matched the vest, save for a bright, bold red stripe running up the center of the crotch. Colby realized that John’s pants had no backside – if the man turned around, his bare ass would be on full display. But the cherry on the sundae wasn’t the leather John had buckled himself into – it was the smile on his face. It wasn’t that subtle hint of a smile Colby had grown accustomed to, it was a flat out grin, and a devilish one at that.
“Like what you see, boy?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.
Colby swallowed and nodded. “Yes, Master,” he said, flustered in the best of ways. “Yes, I do.”
“Good,” John said, “because I haven’t put these on in years, not since I used to venture out into the scene, this trashy old leather bar in town called Nixx. To be honest, I wasn’t even sure they’d still fit…”
“Oh, they fit all right,” Colby said, unable to keep himself from running his gaze up and down John’s body. For such a quiet, conservative-seeming man, there was no denying that he wore the outfit well.
“Careful boy,” John grumbled. “If anyone’s going to be objectified, it’s going to be you.”
Colby couldn’t help but chuckle, realizing that the sight of John had made him forget entirely that he was already practically naked, his bare body on full display. “Of course, Master,” he quickly said, correcting himself. “My apologies.”
John hmphed, extending a hand towards the boy. Colby handed the wood over, watching as John immediately began inspecting it. There were two matching pieces, each one curved into a gentle, wavy “w” shape, almost reminding Colby of the silhouettes of birds flying toward a sunset he had seen so often in mediocre paintings. Each p
iece also had a curved, semi-elliptical indentation in the center. Colby watched as John stacked the pieces, making sure that the indentations lined up, creating a slight gap in the center.
“Good,” he said, nodding to himself and stepping over to the drill press. Clamping the two pieces together, he made quick work, drilling down through both of them in two places, leaving a hole on each end. Feeding a long screw through each hole and attaching wingnuts at the end of each one, the two pieces were finally connected. The piece was finished, and a smile came over his face.
“There we go,” he said, pleased with the result. “It’s a bit crude, but it’ll do the job.”
“…What job?” Colby asked, still trying to figure out just what exactly the two of them had created. John chuckled under his breath, that devilish grin returning to his face.
“Don’t worry,” he said, “you’re gonna test it out for me.”
**********
“Down on all fours, boy.”
The two had returned to the dungeon, with John wasting no time. Clearly enjoying his apprentice’s growing anxiety over not knowing what sort of diabolical purpose the mystery device would serve, John tapped the freshly sanded wood into his palm, relishing the site of Colby slowly lowering himself into position on the shaggy red carpet.
“Ass up, legs spread,” John ordered, reaching down and tugging Colby’s jock down over his ass. “You won’t be needing this anymore,” he said, working it down past Colby’s knees and off entirely before deftly stuffing it into his pants pocket. Walking in calculated, painstakingly slow steps around the boy, he set the device down on the rack table, then opened a small drawer. After fishing around inside for a few moments, he produced what he’d been looking for. From Colby’s vantage point, it looked like a pair of swimmer’s goggles with shaded lenses. But as John knelt down and slipped the goggles into place over Colby’s eyes, he quickly realized that they weren’t shaded at all – they were painted black.
“Even better than a blindfold,” John muttered. “And while I’m down here…”
Colby suddenly felt John’s fingers pinching both of his cheeks and forcing his mouth open, followed by fabric being forcefully stuffed into his mouth, effectively serving as a makeshift gag. As the subtly familiar flavor dawned on Colby, John confirmed the boy’s suspicion.
“You look damned hot with your own jock stuffed into your mouth,” he said. “I wonder what else we could fill that mouth with…”
Colby let out a helpless little moan, and John chuckled softly in response, pulling away and retrieving the device. It was time to show this boy what could be done with a few hunks of wood and a little elbow grease…
“The device we made is what’s known as a ‘humbler,’” John said, taking a few more of those slow, intimidating steps around the apprentice, circling him like a shark circling its prey. “Now why don’t we see if it’s capable of humbling you?”
His mind racing with agonizing curiosity, not to mention a healthy dose of anxiety, Colby felt John press the firm, smooth wood of the device up against the backs of his legs, just underneath his ass. The gentle curvature they had cut into the wood matched almost perfectly with the round contours of his muscular legs. But still, Colby couldn’t quite figure out what the purpose of the device was…
…That is, not until he felt John take hold of his testicles, stretching them backwards.
“It’s a thing of beauty,” John muttered, feeding Colby’s scrotum through the elliptical gap in the center of the device. “Your ballsack serves as the lynchpin, holding everything in place…”
John began turning the wingnuts, bringing the two pieces of wood closer and closer together, squeezing them in tight against the tender, stretched flesh of Colby’s scrotum, trapping his two balls on the other side.
“And there you have it,” John said, smiling wide. “It fits you perfectly.”
Colby let out a muffled groan through the jock, a dull ache already starting to course within his bulging, vulnerable testicles.
“It’s a good thing I’m in a good mood,” John said. “Otherwise, I’m not sure I could resist the urge to torment those balls of yours…” He gave the pair a few gentle pats with the palm of his hand, which was more than enough to elicit a pained cry from Colby’s throat. “Sensitive, aren’t they?” John asked wickedly. “That’s because the skin is stretched so thin. There’s practically nothing protecting them. Torturing you would be so simple…”
He drew out his words, savoring the reaction they drew from his apprentice, helplessly bracing himself to endure his Master’s whims, whatever they may be.
“Lucky for you,” John finally said, rising back to his feet, “I didn’t bring you down here to be tortured.” Colby could hear the man stepping back over to the table, returning to the drawer.
“I brought you down here to be inspected.”
John had returned to a squatting position behind Colby, placing a hand on the boy’s ass to steady himself. “The thing is,” he said, “I’ve already been inspecting you. It’s why I’ve had you parading around in that little yellow jock all day. But that’s just what you’ve got on the outside…”
Suddenly, without warning, Colby felt two lubricated fingers slide up into his ass, making his eyes go wide behind the blacked out goggles.
“…It’s what you’ve got inside that I’m particularly interested in at the moment,” John said, burying the fingers deep within Colby’s willing ass and curling them down against his prostate. Within an instant, Colby was moaning sharply, his eyelids fluttering shut, his entire body tensing with pleasure. John practically purred at the sight of it.
“That’s right, boy,” he muttered. “You Master knows all of your sweet spots.”
With the forceful, confident touch that only comes from years of experience, John worked his fingers in and out of the young apprentice, exploring him, laying claim to each and every square inch he uncovered. From Colby’s perspective – blindfolded and gagged, his eager ass up in the air for his Master, his face practically melting into the floor beneath him – there wasn’t a shred of doubt as to who held the power between the two of them. It was an owned sense of pure submission that transcended the moment; Colby knew that he would do anything for this man. He would obey any command, endure any punishment, and welcome every reward. For tonight, at least, Colby belonged for John.
It was a sense of ownership that John was eager to test and explore. He worked a third finger in alongside the first two, smiling at the muffled moan it produced from the other end of the young man. In and out, in and out, he continued working Colby’s ass, stretching it, teasing it, and working its contours. Before long there was a thing stream of drool dripping out of the corner of the boy’s mouth, his faculties failing him in the midst of the torment of overwhelming ecstasy.
Pulling his fingers out entirely, John paused to admire the brief sight of Colby’s gaping asshole, biting his lip as it quickly closed back in on itself, shrinking like a camera’s’ aperture. John wasn’t fooled, though – drizzling a few extra squirts of lube across his fingers, he was able to neatly re-penetrate the boy’s ass, the smooth hole offering nothing in the way of resistance, immediately re-opening to accommodate a dominant hand. Biting down a little harder on his lip, savoring the faint suggestion of pain within his own mind, John added a fourth finger, burying his digits into Colby’s ass all the way to the base knuckles.
Colby moaned and groaned, practically writhing from below, trying and failing to contain each quivering spasm John was delivering through his body. Even the slightest movement came at a price: the humbler, still locking his testicles in place back behind his legs, read Colby like a seismograph, responding to the boy’s wiggling vibrations by delivering sharp, painful tugs to his scrotum. Even if he stayed still, he had to endure the humbler’s dull aching squeeze, but with John working his ass over in the way an expert musician plays an instrument, staying still simply wasn’t possible. The result was a cacophony of pain and pleas
ure that jolted through Colby’s body like electricity, each sensation contrasted by an opposing one, all of it blurring together and numbing the boy’s mind. After just a few minutes under John’s hand, Colby realized that he could hardly tell the difference between pain and pleasure – as far as his body was concerned, they were two sides of the same coin. And judging from his erect cock, painfully bulging upwards and exacerbating his stretched scrotum, Colby wanted all of it.
And then, John spoke six simple words that reduced Colby to whimpers.
“You want more, don’t you boy…”
It was a question that Colby instantly knew the answer to, and the answer in and of itself was as overwhelming as the excruciating pleasure he was navigating. Yes, Colby’s mind screamed, I want more. More pleasure, more pain, more everything. Colby couldn’t have told the man no even if he had wanted to.
So instead, Colby produced a moaning, near involuntary, “mmmm-hmmm” out through his gagged mouth. The sound of it widened John’s smile into a grin. He pulled the four fingers halfway out of the boy, then brought the tip of his thumb up against Colby’s already considerably distressed hole.
“Good,” John said, “because I want more, too.”
And with that, John pushed all five of his fingers inside of his apprentice, stretching the boy’s hole to a level Colby had never imagined was even possible. And, as Colby correctly suspected, John wasn’t finished. After giving the young slave a few moments to gather himself, John began curling his fingers down, collapsing his hand in on itself within Colby’s ass. He was making a fist, and all that was left was to power inwards, pushing the knuckled bases of each finger inside of the boy, and with them, the entirety of his hand.
“Ready?” he asked. Colby wondered if it really mattered. John had determined himself to push his apprentice past any sort of pre-conceived limit. If Colby were to say no, if he were to beg and plead with him to stop, to slow down, to show mercy, would it have made a difference? A large part of him was afraid of finding out.
