He put a blindfold on me before he handed me a helmet and straddled his Harley. I was left to grope my way on, and I held him tightly as the bike’s acceleration threatened to knock me off balance. I tried, blind as I was, to follow the turns he took, but I was lost within a couple of blocks, and all I knew was that soon we were speeding up even more, crossing a bridge—I guessed the Bay Bridge, for in the middle the sound changed as we whipped through a tunnel. I clasped him, feeling the dildo I wore nudge his butt-cheeks while his big bike throbbed under us like a very butch sex toy.
He didn’t take the blindfold off until we’d entered a house, which might have been in the Berkeley Hills, or Oakland, or who knows where. It was a large house, obviously, and Jack had let himself in without ringing. We left our helmets on a shelf in the foyer. We weren’t the only ones here, I noted: some helmets were there already, a briefcase or two, and a profusion of coats. Most, but not all, were leather. Jack instructed me to hang my own jacket on a hook—he always said it was too fucking ratty to be seen in—and kept his on. He led me down a long hall.
The room we entered at the end made me gasp. It was clearly a dungeon, though it was not the low-end made-over-basement I was used to from the city. Somebody well-to-do lived here, and he had obviously put all the care into constructing his playroom that some other gay man might spend collecting art or learning to be a four-star chef just to impress his friends.
At one end, it didn’t look like a dungeon, but a really classy den, a library without the bookshelves. It had several wing-back chairs arranged around a low table and facing a fireplace, where a small blaze flickered and cast shadows. A sideboard held a silver coffee service—a nice antique one, I noted—and several plates with sandwiches and other easy-to-eat food. A bottle of champagne lay icing in a silver bucket, but the cork hadn’t been popped—no one seemed to be drinking. Three of the chairs were occupied by men in leathers, men who would look just as sexy and appropriate wearing very fine suits as they did in this Gentleman’s Club atmosphere.
The other end of the room was, like the part that looked like a den, wood-paneled. It might have been in a restored Victorian, except the rest of the house looked newer. Setting off the dark wood was wrought iron fashioned into cages and suspension bars. A wooden St. Andrew’s cross, leather-upholstered horses, and other dungeon implements furnished the place. I had been inside a few dungeons before, but they’d all looked tacked together compared to this.
As Jack stepped into the room, one of the seated men got up and extended his hand. Jack clasped it. “Sir Sebastian,” he said, with affection as well as great respect in his voice, “how good to see you again. Thank you, as always, for your hospitality.” Sir Sebastian, like Jack, had an impeccably trimmed beard, but it was mostly white, and he had white at his temples, too. I put him at fifty, perhaps. He was distinguished, calm, had seen everything. His grey eyes shone with warmth at the moment, but I could imagine them glittering menacingly; power was all over him. If Jack was my daddy, Sir Sebastian could be his.
“Jack, my darling man. You’re welcome here at any time.” He had looked me over once, the moment we entered the room, and now he continued, “And what have you brought for us tonight? It’s fortunate this isn’t a public place, my dear. No wonder I haven’t seen you in the bars with this lad.” Jack only smiled. “Sir Sebastian, his name is Randy. In my experience, the name suits him very well, and he is not entirely new to all this. Tonight, of course, will be a test for him.” As Jack said my name, I sank to my knees and bowed my head. He hadn’t told me what the rules were, except “don’t fuck up”; I figured at the minimum I ought to put on good dungeon manners and hope I didn’t miss any cues.
“Randy is forbidden to speak tonight,” Jack said, “and I do hope none of you gentlemen will take offense when he does not verbally answer you. Also, his cock belongs to me, and neither he nor anyone else may touch it.” I had a wild image of popping the little Realistic out of my jockstrap and handing it over to Jack for safe-keeping. “He is bandaged from a cutting, a rather extensive one, so I’d like you to leave his shirt on. Beyond that, however, he will be at your disposal.”
At that, my heart jumped wildly. Somehow I’d expected Jack to test my passing skills in a dark leather bar, not in a playroom full of masters. Why couldn’t he have just snuck me into Blow Buddies? More was at stake tonight than whether I could keep the dildo on straight. I’m not a heavy sensation bottom, and while this place was beautiful, it could’ve hosted meetings of the Inquisition. I prayed I wouldn’t break.
Jack ruffled my hair for the tiniest instant, then left me kneeling and turned to the other men. I stole glances up at them as best I could. One man was enormous and muscular, his head shaved, his tits pierced. I couldn’t tell his age—somewhere around Jack’s, perhaps. Jack called him Stone when he greeted him. He addressed another man, a lithe young blonde with icy blue eyes, as Marc. Marc seemed a good deal younger than the others, maybe even younger than me. But he wore authority like so many men in the bars wore leathers with the squeak and smell of Mr. S still on them.
Two more men came in. One was substantially older than the others, his hair quite white, and when he spoke I heard the tones of well-bred Oxford English. He, unlike the other men, did not wear leather; he was dressed in a suit that doubtless came from Savile Row. Jesus, Jack ran with some power daddies! “Ah, St. James, sir,” Jack said when he saw the man, reaching to grasp his hand and, I noticed, inclining his head respectfully. St. James’ companion stepped forward to greet Jack, and at the sight of him, I almost forgot to keep my head bowed. Tall, black, with sculptured muscles, he was one of the most beautiful men I’d ever seen. He had a similarly galvanizing effect on Jack. “Demetrius! How long have you been back?” he cried, and to my surprise threw his arms around the man. Demetrius laughed and hugged Jack, and even when the embrace was over they stood close, with their hands on each others’ arms. I realized I was looking at someone who meant a lot to Jack—a lover, probably—and from my post on the floor, I studied him as carefully as I could. He wore a white silk shirt which draped over his muscular arms and tucked into black leather pants almost as tight as his own skin. His boots were fine leather, unadorned, and polished to a high black gloss. His voice was deep and smooth.
Sir Sebastian had stepped to the sideboard and rung a small bell. A very pretty young man entered the room. He was dressed like a formal waiter, except he didn’t have on any pants—only a leather jockstrap. His sandy hair curled around his face—he’d do flawless drag, I thought, then reminded myself that I probably wouldn’t be let loose to play Barbie with Sir Sebastian’s staff. Maybe Jack could get the loan of him sometime and we could play lesbians. He couldn’t possibly have his obvious need to cross-dress indulged hanging around with these leathermen.
The waiter-boy bore a tray with several champagne glasses. He set it on the sideboard and opened the champagne, not getting at all ostentatious with the cork, I noticed approvingly. It exited the bottle silently. He filled the glasses, presented one first to Sir Sebastian, then to St. James, and then to everyone else. He looked at me kneeling, poured a glass for me, and left it on the sideboard. “Anything further, Sir Sebastian?” he asked, and left silently when the man shook his head.
“Well, this is quite a lot to celebrate,” Sir Sebastian said smoothly. “Jack has brought his new boy to meet us. And Demetrius has come back from his wanderings. Shall we toast?”
Jack picked up the glass from the sideboard and sat it on the floor in front of me, returning to lift his own glass. “New acquaintances and old friends,” said St. James, and as the men all toasted, I bent down and lapped from my glass like a rich old lady’s over-indulged puppy. So far, this party was a piece of cake, but that couldn’t last. I repeated Sir Sebastian’s statement “Jack has brought his new boy”—in my head. Well, that was worth several hours of conversation about commitment and relationship status, eh? Jack’s collar lay heavy on my neck, comforting as the touch of his pal
m on my nape. I stole another glance up through my lashes—he had his hand on Demetrius’ strong, silk-clad shoulder, but I noted that he was reiterating to him and St. James the rules regarding my conduct. No speech—thank goodness; no removing my shirt, no touching my dick. Jack had done everything he could to set it up so I could pass.
Minutes later, Jack was at my side, giving a lift to my collar. I scrambled to my feet, and at his gestured instruction, placed my hands behind my back at waist level. He beckoned and I followed—to the cage.
Inside the cage, a set of leather cuffs dangled from chains. Jack adjusted them to my height, then held one open. Meekly, I lay my wrist onto the fleece padding, and he buckled first that wrist in and then the other. The cage was tall enough for a full-sized man, but fairly narrow. Even with my wrists restrained, I could move right up to the bars on all four sides.
Jack took my chin, lifted my face up so I could gaze into his eyes. He was not quite expressionless—I thought I saw a hint of a smile. I figured that if we really pulled this off, Jack would feel like the cat that got the canary, and I—well, let’s just say like the cat that ate the cream.
Then he released my chin and unbuckled my Levi’s—the jeans fell down around my ankles. Jack slapped my ass once and grinned, then the cage door clanged shut; the lock snapped into place. He crossed the room and rejoined his friends. “The devil never does get enough cock,” Jack was saying.
“He’s a little pig, really. I think I’ve satiated the little bastard and ten minutes later, he’s pulling on my balls again. He’s tiresome! I finally decided the only thing to do was bring him here.” The assembled daddies murmured sympathetically. “I’m sure we can help,” Demetrius said.
“Oh, I know you can,” Jack rejoined. “A cock like yours is really the only possible answer.”
I listened to Jack with amazement. He was going to get me ganged! I rubbed my dick against the cage bars, felt my cunt simmer.
Sure enough, he returned accompanied by Marc. Each was unzipping his leather pants.
“Now, boy, I know I don’t need to tell you to be good to my friends. You’re here for our use. Take this.”
Jack thrust his cock near enough to the cage bars that I could just get to the pisshole with my tongue. I looked at him imploringly, the look that would have been accompanied by a “Please, Daddy!” if I’d been able to speak. Jack laughed and stepped closer, grasped the bars so he could press his pelvis right up against the cage, and his big cock came in for me to work on. I couldn’t get hold of it with my hands—the restraints gave me some movement, but not enough—and so the only part of me that touched him was my mouth. I tongued him all over, the taste of him getting my saliva running,’til his cock was wet and I could slurp him in. Marc stood just to one side of Jack, stroking his own cock—it had a downward curve, it would slide right down my throat.
“Look at this fucking cocksucker, Jack—where’d you find him? Look at this fucking kid.” I knew how Jack liked it by now—he made a low little noise each time his cockhead slipped past my throat muscles, and when he pulled it out, I laved my tongue all around the corona. Once in a while I let it slip out of my mouth so I could scramble for his balls—this part was harder with no hands, but Jack stayed close, his cock bobbing up to slap his belly with a soft thwack whenever its head escaped my lips. I could only get one of his nuts in my mouth at a time, here without the use of my hands—when my hands were free, I knew, if I opened really wide I could just get both of them in, and then I could suckle them. Now, though, I returned to his cock after a little attention to his balls, sucked him rhythmically, my tongue alert as it stroked along his shaft for the first pulsing signs of his load coming.
He didn’t give it to me this time, though—gasping and swearing, he pulled out before I could finish him. Marc was in his place almost before I knew there was no cock in my mouth. His dick was a little longer than Jack’s, maybe not quite as thick, but substantial, and with that downturn. “Little sucker,” Marc growled, “you can have my load, punk, if you can work it out of me,” and I went for him. Demetrius and Stone stood a few feet back now, watching too. As I breathed deeply, opened my throat, and started wiggling Marc’s long curved one down as far as I could get it, Demetrius moved behind Jack and grasped his still-high cock in his big hand. Jack moaned, thrust into the fist like it was my cunt, started working it. When Marc’s cock was all the way down my throat, I started a fast gulping kind of suck. It flirted with my gag reflex, but I didn’t care—that cock fit so perfectly in my throat, I didn’t want to pull off it at all.
I was just about to drool from the saliva I wasn’t bothering to stop and swallow when Marc started thrusting faster. This added movement pulled the long cock up and out, slid it back down and in, fast, hard, repeatedly, as the blond man built up quickly towards his come. Jack was right on the edge of it too, but he wasn’t missing a thing. “C’mon,” he growled, “use that pig! Fill him up! Spray it right down his throat, man, that’s what he’s for!”
Marc bucked, knuckles white on the bars of my cage, and the next thrust, I felt the first hot pulse of his jizz hit the back of my throat. Jack’s dirty talk had the same effect on me it always did—added to the sensation of come spurting into me, filling my mouth up with bitter, creamy spunk, waves of come took me over, too. I could just reach the bars and I held on so I could keep on Marc’s cock even as my come threatened to tumble me off my feet.
Stone had inched closer to the cage. Now the huge man snapped the codpiece off his chaps as he stepped up to take the place Marc vacated. Not only his head was smooth—Stone’s cock and balls were shaved too, and a sizeable Prince Albert matched the rings that stretched out his nipples. “Lick it up, little boy. Get it hard.” Sucking in Stone’s soft cock with the metal ring felt wild, and I suckled on it the way I liked to suckle Jack’s balls. As it started to fill up, he took it out of my mouth and, holding it, nuzzled it around my face, sometimes past my lips, sometimes under my chin. My whole face got slick from the sliding cock, and I hoped the fucking make-up on my upper lip was more than waterproof—I didn’t think they behaved anything like this in the Max Factor test labs.
“Jack, I’m gonna fuck your kid, okay?” Stone slapped his almost-fully-engorged cock against my cheek. “Sure, just get a rubber,” said Jack.
Not an instant later, the beautiful waiter-boy was at Stone’s side, bearing a tray. Now where the fuck had he come from? I remembered that I’d heard Sir Sebastian’s bell ringing a few minutes before. The boy must have come in then.
I could see his long pretty-boy meat outlined hard in his leather jock. I wondered if the help got to get laid around here, or what.
Stone picked a rubber off the tray, pulled it out of its wrapper, and worked it over his dick. The ring through his cockhead made the rubber fit a little funny, but I figured it’d probably work. Then he took a second one and repeated the process. While he suited up, Demetrius reached over Jack’s shoulder and took a condom too.
I heard the sound of a zipper. Whose was that? Stone and Jack already had their cocks out. Then I heard Demetrius say, “Peaches, my pants, please,” and the waiter knelt in front of him to help work the leather pants over his shiny boots. Peaches folded the pants carefully while Demetrius shucked the white silk shirt, then took them away. Over at the other end of the room, disguised by the woodwork, I saw a door swing open, and Demetrius’ clothes went inside.
Stone, clad in rubber now, moved to the back of the cage. “Get your ass up here,” he rasped. He reached through the bars to position me—there was just enough room for me to press my ass against the back bars and still be able to reach a cock fed to me at the front. Peaches reappeared silently, lube on his tray. Stone slathered up his cock, worked a finger into my ass. I shook with wanting this pierced-dicked giant to shove it in.
He didn’t shove it, he worked it, and it felt so fucking good
I could have screamed. I just grunted, low as I could pitch, and wiggled up onto him. “Jack, you
’re right, he’s a fucking little pig,” said Stone, “and I’m gonna fuck him just like one, ready, you little fuck, ready to get it jammed up your fucking pig butt?”
He had only arched into two or three hard thrusts when I felt my mouth opening again for cock—Jack’s. I could have died of happiness. I sucked him down, you want pig, Daddy, I’ll show you what a pig you have—and it was a minute before I noticed that Jack had shed his pants, too. Peaches stood near, still holding the tray which held the lube.
Then Demetrius, rubber on, started working his cock into Jack’s asshole. Jack responded with a long groan, and I remembered that he’d been right up under an orgasm ever since I sucked him the first time. I backed off a little to give him time to get used to all the stimulation.
Pretty soon, all four of us turned into a fucking machine, Stone and Demetrius pumping into Jack’s and my butts simultaneously, me swallowing Jack’s cock each time they did. We were all growling and all three of them were muttering, “Yeah. Fuck! Fuck your fuckin’ ass, fuck!”
Thank god Jack’s cock was too far down my throat when he started shooting to allow me any air to scream with—I was feeling like squealing, like the pig that I was—but his spasming cock kept me quiet. The minute he slid out of my mouth, all cummed out, he bent forward and sucked his jism out of my mouth. The kiss shut me up again when I was about to howl. The minute his mouth left me, there was Demetrius’ cock, out of Jack’s ass, rubber shed, at my lips.
His dick must have been as big around as my wrist—at least. It had the most prominent head on it I’d ever seen—though of course, I couldn’t see it right that minute. As it popped past the muscle at the top of my throat, it burned, and I tried to shake my head, afraid I’d choke, afraid I couldn’t. Stone, behind me and still riding me hard, saw. “Take that cock,” he bellowed, giving my ass a stinging slap. “Take it, you fucking little punk!” I took it, seeing stars, stretching wider than I ever thought I could, oh fuck, I thought, I’m playing with the big boys now.
Best of the Best Gay Erotica Page 16
