A kinky story written by Pete Brown.
Chapter 14 of 17 –> here you find the other chapters of the story
Illustration by Theo Blaze

My new worK assignments began well enough, well, ordinarily enough, I suppose I should say. I was worKing out in the gym the next day, watching some of the other guys as I did so, when my number lit up on the board at the end. I went and picKed up one of the phones and dialled to get my call, and it was Gary. He told me I was worKing that night, and that I should be ready to leave at eight. “Nothing special”, he told me. “Just remember what I said – thoroughly clean inside, freshly showered, and crisp pressed uniform, and well lubed. This is an important customer, but he’s got very ordinary tastes.”

I’d noticed that for young, fit guys many of my colleagues seemed curiously stiff as they worKed out in the gym, and as I walKed bacK to the treadmill where I’d been doing an eight mile run, one of them called out and asKed if I was worKing that night. I told him I was, and asKed if he was, only to be told that he was being allowed “three days rest after his customer”, as was, apparently, usual in some cases. He didn’t seem to want to elaborate, though, and I was aware that some guys were still sensitive about the worK we did, so I didn’t press him.

By seven forty five I was ready – I wanted to maKe a good impression on Gary this first time, and I was waiting in the reception area all prepared as he’d instructed. He came in, and he too looKed immaculate – crisply pressed chinos, a polo shirt with our company logo on the breast, and a light-weight casual jacKet in matching colours on top. As ever, his short hair looKed as if it had just been freshly cut, and I’m sure he must have only just shaved as he had that squeaKy-clean looK that soon goes off. I suppose he made an interesting contrast to me, who had the requisite “two day” beard shadowing my face, maKing me looK much tougher and hard than I really am.

“Good”, Gary said. “I liKe that, Steve – enthusiastic, and ready to go. Some of the guys I’ve worKed with were always late, or just turned up at the last minute. Anyway, as this is the first time, let me inspect you – drop your shorts, and pull your polo up.”

There, in the middle of the reception area, he lightly ran his hands over my body again, then told me to raise my arms above my head. He pushed my polo up a little higher, and plunged his nose into my pits.  “Good”, he told me. “Freshly showered, and the fresh sweat you’re throwing off now is nicely masculine. Don’t be nervous, though – this is just a plain, simple assignment.  No need to sweat.  The customers liKe fresh sweat, as they Know they’ve got a real man then, and I’ll usually checK you to maKe sure you’re really sweet there and did wash yourself properly – oh, and, incidentally, I Know they provide antiperspirant in the showers, but you do not, I repeat not, use it when you’re out on an assignment as if the customer wants to licK your pits it maKes them taste all bitter.”

Did he thinK I was some sort of idiot novice? Of course I wouldn’t use antiperspirant, would I? The last months had taught me that, when customers had wanted me to licK them. I’d had enough of that horrible sensation as the bitterness hits your tongue when you go into a guy’s pits, and I wouldn’t expect my customers to have to put up with that.

“Right – spread them, and bend over.”

I expected this, I suppose, and did as I was told. I felt Gary’s finger at my hole, and then he pushed gently to get it right in, so that I could feel his palm pressing right against my ass. He pulled out, again very gently, and told me to stand upright. He stood in front of me, looKing at his index finger, then moved it delicately in front of his nose.  Then he held it out, in front of my face.

“Excellent! Nicely lubed, tight, but not vice-liKe, and well cleaned out. Just what the customers liKe. OK, clean it.”

I stood there, looKing puzzled, and he went on “Oh, it’s a bit of a tradition here. Something all us handlers do to you guys just to maKe sure you always remember the importance of a good clean-out. When your handler has inspected you liKe this, you licK his finger clean. And you always do it, right? We find that it’s a good discipline for you – however hurried you are, the one thing you don’t forget is your enema to flush you clean. Or, if you do, cleaning the handler’s finger is a powerful incentive to get it right the next time. Now, hurry up – licK me clean.”

His finger was under my nose and I could smell the faint tang of the lube, and my own masculine smell. I put out my tongue, tooK Gary’s hand in mine to steady and guide it, and licKed away at his finger. I could see the point of this – any guy who hadn’t cleaned himself properly would probably be choKing now as he had to licK at his own crap.

“Anyway”, Gary went on, “There’s a special uniform for tonight’s customer. We have all your measurements, so these should be a perfect fit…” He handed me a garment bag, and I saw a crisp white shirt, a darK, expensive looKing suit, and some other stuff. “Get into these”, he told me, “As the customer wants you to looK liKe a business colleague.”

Well, it was strange, standing there in the reception area and pulling on fine cotton boxers, the shirt, that felt brand new, and then the expensive suit, silK socKs, and blacK loafers. I’m used to being naKed in front of other guys, and pulling on and off shorts, as you Know, but somehow having to dress in these very formal clothes as Gary watched me, felt very strange. Something else, too – I just wasn’t used to wearing long pants any more, or a shirt with full-length sleeves, or a jacKet:  my sKin tingled with the new sensations that these all brought to me.  And, actually, I wasn’t used to expensive clothes liKe this at all – even when I was free I’d bought most of my stuff from Sears and places liKe that: reasonable quality, and very low prices. But now I saw the difference that money maKes – the suit felt light as gossamer on me, and the cotton of the shirt was so soft it almost caressed my sKin. I stood there, slightly bemused.

“The necK tie, Steve…”

I fumbled for a bit with it. I hadn’t worn a tie since graduating form high School, and I couldn’t remember what to do. Gary saw me difficulty, and told me he’d do it – he tried, stand ing in front of me, then told me to bend down slightly so that he could go behind me and reach around my necK to tie it. He was almost laughing, and said that he was liKe most guys – even though he could tie a necK tie, he cold only do it in reverse, and there was no way he could do it facing me.

When I was done, Gary walKed around me inspecting everything, and told me I looKed liKe a real executive. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror by the elevators, and I could see what he meant – if it hadn’t been for my two day growth of beard, and the fact that I didn’ t have a flashy designer watch on, I could just have stepped from the stage of the corporate America you see in the movies – except that I was far more handsome than most of the guys you saw depicted there.  And I don’t thinK the maKers of expensive suits really have guys liKe me in mind – it was a perfect fit everywhere, except that it stretched tight across my ass, almost as if they wanted to emphasise my butt. Funny, but dressed liKe this it was almost as if I was in charge, and Gary, in his chinos and stuff, was the hired help. I couldn’t help reflecting that clothes seemed to maKe an enormous difference – and if people saw us now and reached the wrong conclusion, what would they thinK if we were both naKed?  How can you really tell who’s in charge?

We tooK the elevator down to the parKing garage underneath the building, and Gary opened the door to a plain ordinary van. “You can sit up front on this assignment”, he told me. “It’s really vanilla. Just liKe you’re used to. All I’m doing is acting as a taxi service.”

I wondered what he meant, but thought I’d wait and see, rather than asKing.  And, anyway, I was enjoying seeing “life” again as we went through the streets – down in the pool and the gym I only really saw my fellow worKers and some of the handlers, and from my cubicle on the twenty second floor, I had no conception of “people” – bodies on the sidewalK underneath were just liKe ants, and the traffic in the street was liKe so many toys.  Even after a couple of days I was feeling somehow isolated, somehow no longer part of the life that teemed all around me.  Much later, when I’d got to Know Gary a little better, I  did try to talK about this to him, and he Kind of said that it was a deliberate policy to isolate us and not allow us out. “You see, Steve, it has two advantages. Firstly, you don’t go to stores, or bars, or anywhere, so there’s absolutely no risK of you saying something, even inadvertently, about the worK you do and the people you do it for. And secondly, it focusses your mind – you’re not distracted by all the stuff of ordinary, everyday life. So you start to turn inwards on yourself, and thinK more about what you’re doing, what you’re feeling – and that maKes you more responsive, and better for our customers.” I learned that Gary had majored in psychology at college, so I suppose he Knew what he was talKing about.

We drove way out of the city, then turned off the expressway into a suburban area. It got gradually more and more expensive – the houses further and further apart, until the were almost no longer visible from the road at the end of their private drives. Finally we drew up at a pair of impressive gates, and Gary leaned out and spoKe into the entry-phone system, saying he was maKing a “special delivery”. The gates swung open, and we drove up a long, curving drive through a belt of trees, and I saw a huge mocK-Tudor mansion, brilliantly flood lit. Gary tooK the drive around to the rear, parKed, then turned to me.

“Right, Steve. I’ll introduce you. Proper respect for the customer, now- he’s one of the city’s leading business men, heading a firm on the exchange.  He’ll tell you what he wants to do you’ll find all our clients are used to running things, to taKing charge, and they’re never slow to say what they want. Usually, though, this guy just wants a nice, business-liKe fucK. And afterwards, he might want to talK – unliKe where you were before, there’s no time limit: effectively he has your services for as long as he wants, so if he wants to lie there and talK, you do so, until he sends you away. There’s no question of payment, of course – we bill him directly.  Is all that clear?”

“Sir, yes, sir.  Does he have lube, condoms, poppers, all that stuff?”

“Lube, yes. The rest, no. And, Steve, this is probably the biggest difference for you between worKing in the Special Services Division and where you were before – all our customers taKe you barebacK. And most of them won’t even consider something mild liKe poppers, as they’re all strictly anti-drug and a lot of their companies anyway do random testing of employees: as the senior directors, they have to set an example, and taKe part themselves.”

“Sir… We were taught never to go with a customer without protection. We were told we’d be punished…”

“Sure. And that was when you were going with, what is it, thirty, customers a weeK, the real ‘walK in’ trade, where you Know nothing about them. But all your customers now are rich and powerful – they don’t want to get anything, just as you don’t. So they limit their partners, have the best medical care, and expect us to provide them with men who are clean and healthy, too. One of the things money buys here is proper sex – with each man really feeling his partner, really experiencing the sensation of cocK on ass, the excitement of semen spraying around, the smell of raw sex.  So get in there, and enjoy it.”

“So do I pull out of him and spray my cum over him, or what?”

“No chance, Steve!”, Gary grinned.  “This guy is used to taKing charge, to being the top dog. He’ll fucK you silly, as after he’s been dealing with his subordinates all day, giving them orders to do this and that around the office, but never able to dare to touch their cute arses or nice bodies in their designer suits: he wants to really experience the thrill of having complete control of a man, to be able to order a real man, with a stunning body, to lie there and let him fucK you.”

We went in through the bacK door of the mansion, and there was a Kind of waiting area with a couch. A man greeted us, told Gary to wait, and me to follow him. We went through several rooms, all luxuriously furnished, then up a wide staircase and along a richly carpeted corridor The man KnocKed at the door, and after we heard an “enter”, opened it and motioned me forward.  I went in, and heard the door close behind me.

The man sitting behind the desK was in his mid fifties, I suppose. He looKed, well, distinguished his iron grey hair expensively cut, and his clothes, liKe mine, expensive and elegant. “Come in…..”

“Sir, Steve, Sir.”

“Come in, Steve. Would you liKe a drinK?”

Well, actually, I would have. But my employers had a strict ‘no alcohol on duty’ policy. But was it different in Special Services?  But perhaps I’d better play safe.

“Sir, no thanK you, sir.”

“Oh, come on… I don’t liKe to drinK alone. And we’re going to be here for some time. I Know you guys aren’t supposed to, but, to please me, do have something…”

“Sir, thanK you. A beer then, please, sir.”

I watched as he poured himself a scotch, adding ice cubes with a little clunK, then heard the hiss of a beer being opened.  The room I was in was evidently a study, or, rather, what some designer thought of as a study in a mansion. I don’t suppose any worK was ever done there, as there was no PC visible. It was lined with leather-bound booKs, there were a couple of leather Chesterfields, the big antique oaK desK behind which my host had been seated, and a massive stone fireplace, in which realistic looKing gas logs flicKered.  I couldn’t see out of the windows, as they were swathed in huge draped velvet curtains, which were closed. The drinKs he was fussing with came out of a fridge which had been neatly concealed behind the oaK panelling that covered the rest of the walls.

He handed me the beer, and, as he did so, slipped his other hand around behind me under my suit jacKet, and gently caressed my ass.

“Nice, Steve, very nice.  You worK our? Cheers….”

I raised my glass in salutation to his, and replied “Sir, yes, sir. I spend a lot of time in the gym, and the pool…”.  I sipped my beer, and it felt good after so very long.

I was feeling nervous now, as I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. Down in New Orleans, in one of the clean, austere worK rooms, I Knew what I had to do – maKe the guy feel at ease, and get on with the sex. But here, he was in charge. This was his place, his home turf. Was I supposed to do anything, or wait for him? I needn’t have worried ,though, as he went on “It’s hot in here, isn’t it? Wouldn’t you liKe to slip your jacKet off?”

I did, dropping it over a leather arm chair he indicated. “…and we don’t stand on ceremony here… Why don’t you loosen your tie and open your shirt?”

I tooK the tie off, and opened the necK of my shirt – to tell you the truth, I was glad to be free of the restricted feeling around my throat, as I just wasn’t used to it.

He too was in a shirt, and now he came and stood in front of me and tooK my beer glass out of my hand and put it down on a side table.  He reached up, and undid the next three buttons of my shirt and pulled it aside. “Oh, Steve, you do Keep in condition… Nice, very nice….”, he almost whispered. Then he slipped one hand inside my shirt, and I felt him stroKing my pec, then starting to gently tweaK my nipple. I moaned quietly, as I’m so sensitive there and it always affects me.

Before I could do or say anything, though, his other hand was down and he was fumbling at my trousers. I almost heard the hiss as my zipper slid down, then his hand was inside, feeling for the opening in my boxers. He carried on stroKing my nip, and of course that made me go hard something he evidently liKed as his hand at last grasped my cocK, and cupped my

I Knew what I was meant to do now – this was almost business as usual! As he reached up to Kiss me, I put one arm around him to pull him close to me, responded forcefully with my tongue as his probed my mouth, and with my other hand undid his zip and started to stroKe his cocK. It was exciting for me, actually: somehow, doing all this with my clothes still mostly on was more erotic than doing it when I was just in shorts. I was genuinely aroused, and not just from his hands on my nip and my cocK. The passion of my own stroKing of him, and of our Kissing, increased, until he broKe away.

I wasn’t prepared for the sheer physical force he used to tear open the rest of my shirt – and, yes, it isn’t a cliché: the buttons really do fly off and across the room.  He almost ripped it off my shoulders so he could toss it aside, then as he carried on Kissing me his hands were all over my bacK, running up and down, feeling my strong muscles and thicK, heavy necK. I didn’t thinK I ought to do the same to him, so I gently pushed us apart then undid his shirt, and helped him taKe it off. The hair all over his chest and belly wasn’t as grey as his head, although it was turning that way; and he wasn’t in such bad shape for an old guy who sat behind a desK all day.

We pulled bacK together again, and now I too stroKed his bacK, but slowly and carefully, as his hands continued to feverishly explore mine. It went on and on, and, franKly, I got bored – you must remember that I’m used to thinKing of sex in one hour sessions! I pushed us apart, dropped to my Knees, then undid his belt and pushed his trousers down to his Knees. His cocK was almost bursting to get out from his snow-white plain cotton boxers, and I reached in and freed it from its prison through the fly, then began to hungrily licK and sucK at it. The g uy started to man and groan, and his hands gripped my head and pulled me closer to him. His wiry pubic hair pressed into my face, and he smelled fresh and clean, overlaid with that wonderful male scent that we all have down there. I carried on teasing his cocK, and tasted the salt of his pre-cum that was now flowing copiously.

“No, no…”, he moaned, and now his hands were pushing my head away, rather than  holding me to him.  I stood up and pushed down my trousers and stepped out of them, tossing my shoes and socKs to one side, and helping him to do the same. Then I pushed down my boxers, and stood there totally naKed in front of him. He looKed straight into my eyes, and pushed down his own boxers, so we were both entirely naKed.

He pulled me towards him, and as we continued to Kiss, he gripped my cocK and pushed it alongside his, stroKing us both. I love the feel of another guy’s cocK alongside mine, the warmth and texture of it all along my shaft, and the way that my cocK head stabs at the other’s pubic hair, so this was a real turn on for me – I ran my hands up and down his bacK over an ove r again, and carried on down, digging my fingers into the muscles of his ass and pulling him close to me. I Know I’m supposed to be good at this, but it felt really right tonight, and I was enjoying it at least as much as he was.

I wasn’t allowed to sucK him to completion, though – he was obviously used to taKing charge, at some point he pulled out of my mouth, and whispered to me to bend over the arm of the leather sofa. I did, and he almost roughly KicKed at the inside of my anKles to push my legs further apart, then told me to reach bacK and pull my ass cheeKs open.  Almost immediately I felt the hot tip of his cocK head nuzzling my hole, and he gave a little push, to force it in to me. I grunted, as you do, then as he started to slide in and out of me, couldn’t help but give little gasps of pleasure as I got that wonderful sensation that overcomes you when your ass is being fucKed by an expert.

He gave a little cry of his own as he shot his load into me, then fell forwards onto me, his sweaty chest slithering along my broad, wet bacK. He put his arms under me, and I reached bacK and ran mine up and down his body. I don’t Know who enjoyed it more.

When he’d finished panting and his breathing and heart rate had returned to normal, almost reluctantly he stood up and pulled himself out of me. I stood up, too, and looKed at him. But evidently once he’d cum, it was all over for him – he wasn’t interested in talKing to me or anything, unliKe the majority of the customers in New Orleans.  And he didn’t seem to want me to do anything about my erection, either. I suppose he just saw me as a piece of meat he’d hired to satisfy himself, and he didn’t feel the need for even basic social interaction. He didn’t even say the conventional stuff liKe “So, how was it for you?”, but instead just said, quite curtly, “Get dressed – but leave the boxers off.”

I went to do as he said, but of course his cum had started to slide out of my ass. I looKed around for tissues or something, but there were none, so I asKed him, pointing out that the suit would otherwise get stained with his cum. “No, nothing”, he muttered. “I liKe to see you going out with the ass of those expensive pants wet with cum – the amount they charge for you, they can afford the dry cleaners’ bills.”

As he was speaKing he’d pulled his own clothes on, and picKed up the phone on his desK and said something. I was tucKing my shirt – minus the buttons, so that my chest was all exposed – into the waistband of my pants when Gary came in. He nodded with his head to me, indicating that we were to leave, and that’s all there was to it – no “goodbye” or anything.

As we went down the stairs in the huge mansion I felt the slimy, clammy fabric of my pants chafing against my ass, and I said, in a low voice, “Sir, please sir, is there an opportunity to clean up?  I’m worried about the suit…”

“No, that’s part of his pleasure – he fantasises about a young executive going into his office and getting fucKed, and then having to spend the rest of the day with his manager’s cum tricKling down the legs. Don’t worry about it – you can shower when we get bacK.”

Well, I suppose that’s one of the easiest worKing days I’d ever had – a pleasant drive to the suburbs, a gentle fucK, and no queue of other customers waiting to be serviced. As we drove along, I said to Gary “Sir, do I get a tip, sir?  Only I’m saving….”

“Certainly not! You only get tips when you’re in the cash end of the business. We send our invoices directly to his company, as ‘consulting services’, and it gets paid directly from the company’s banK account: how on earth do you expect they could add a tip for you? You’d better get used t to the idea that you get paid a salary, and that’s all. If a customer does hand any money to you, you must refuse it – we’re offering a high-class, professional service here, and professionals don’t get money on top of their earnings – that’s strictly ‘blue collar’.”

He looKed at his watch then, and said “I’ve changed my mind, actually. I’m not taKing you bacK tonight: I live on this side of the city, and you can come bacK and spend the night at my place, and we’ll go in the morning.”

We turned off the express way and went along more suburban streets – this was just an ordinary, lower to middle income area, though, with rows of neat, small detached houses all in their own little patch of green. Finally we turned into the drive of one – I hadn’t noticed exactly where, but it was called “Rhododendron Drive” or some such – and he turned off the engine. “Now, quiet!  My daughter’s asleep.  And don’t mind the dog – he’s friendly, but boisterous.

Don’t encourage him to jump up you.”

We went in, to a typical open-plan living room, and a huge mass of red fur flew across the room and almost KnocKed Gary flying.  He bent down and patted and stroKed a huge red setter, who he called “Mutt”, and then Mutt got bored, and came to me. I held out my hand so he could licK it, but the beast pushed its muzzle straight into my crotch, and started to sniff and smell me, whining gently. “Mutt can smell all that cum on you!”, Gary said. Then, to the dog, “Down, boy.  Good dog…”

He led me to the guest room, and all was fresh and new looKing. “No jerKing off into the sheets, or anything!” Gary warned me. “Liz, my wife, hates it when my charges do that, and if she gives me grief about it, I’ll punish you, understand?”

“Sir, yes, sir.”

“Right. MaKe sure you shower before you go to bed so your body’s clean. And in the morning put that suit in the plastic bag over there, and wear those sweat pants and T that are on the chair. I liKe to go for a morning run, as it helps to exercise Mutt, and you can come with us. I’ll give you a call – don’t slouch in bed, but come straight out, OK?”

“Sir, yes, sir.”

I showered and slipped into bed, then lay there, trying to sleep. It somehow seemed so strange it’s one thing to be selling your body when you’re worKing in a brothel with other guys, but another when you’re delivered to a mansion and then expected to do it. And now, lying here

in a suburban family home, my sense of unreality deepened – I’d almost forgotten that this world of everyday people doing everyday things still existed.

The guest room must have been adjacent to the master suite, as I heard low voices through the wall – not distinctly, so I couldn’t hear what was being said, but with enough clarity to guess it was Gary, and a woman. Then there were the unmistaKable sounds of love maKing – the bedhead seemed to be not quite against the wall, as I heard the characteristic banging noise as bodies caused it to hit, over and over, and then little cries from the woman, and Gary, followed by a deathly silence. So Gary had had sex, it seemed, and I now wanted it, too – my cocK was a shard as a rocK. Mindful of Gary’s warning about the semen, though, I got out of bed and Knelt on the carpet in order to jerK off. I’m not sure if it was the thought of having been fucKed myself, or the thought of a couple doing it in the next room, that made it so erotic for me.

Gary came into my room the next morning and stripped the covers off my bed, and caused me to waKe up – rapidly – as he slapped my naKed ass. He was already in a T and sweat pants, and he stood there almost impatiently as I got out of bed with my morning piss hard-on sticKing rigidly out, then tried to empty my bladder. I pulled on the same sort of stuff as him, and we went out of the house – it must have been very early still as there was no one else around, and we started to race along the suburban street, with Mutt racing along with us. We might have been two buddies out on a morning jog together, rather than handler and servant.

When we got bacK Gary told me to shower and meet him in the Kitchen, and I did. He wasn’t there when I went in, and a handsome woman – “preppy”, a bit liKe Gary, said “Hi, I’m Liz, you must be Steve. How would you liKe your eggs?”

“Ma’am, scrambled, please, ma’am.” I Knew I’d better be polite, as Gary would not tolerate familiarity.

A child of about four, sitting eating already, then said, in a remarKably self-possessed way, “And I’m Sophie. How do you do?” She held out her diminutive hand, to shaKe.

I almost laughed at her formality, but I’m good with children and Know that’s not what you do, so I went over, shooK her hand, and said “I’m Steve, Sophie. Nice to meet you.”

“Do you worK with my daddy?”

“No, Sophie, I worK for your daddy. He’s my manager, and that’s why I’m so polite to him…”

As I said this, Gary came into the room, immaculate as ever in freshly-pressed chinos and a crisp polo, his shoes shining, and looKing as if he’d spent hours grooming himself. I felt really scruffy by comparison, as although I was freshly showered and squeaKy clean, I was in the baggy sweat pants and a somewhat crumpled T, and my two-day beard growth as very visible.

“Sit down, Steve”, Liz said brightly, “Next to Sophie, if you liKe.”

I did as she asKed, and saw Gary scowl. Liz busied herself at the stove, then placed a big plate of eggs and bacon and hash browns in front of me, and the same in front of Gary.

“He doesn’t eat that sort of stuff”, Gary said to his wife. “Give him a bowl of plain cereal, without sugar, and some toast.”

“But he said he liKed scrambled eggs…”

“He may liKe them, but he’s not allowed them. I have to Keep him in good shape, reme mber?”

“Oh, don’t be such a grump… Let him have them just this once, and next time he’s here I’ll do the other things.”

Gary scowled again, and I wondered if he’d taKe it out on me later in the day. But I did get to eat my breaKfast, and little Sophie Kept chattering to me. It made me really miss the Kind of life I now Knew I’d never have.

On the way in to the office Gary told me I had another assignment that night, and to do exactly as I had done before. “It’s a regular customer”, he told me, “And he liKes to try out all the new men. Sadly for you, it’s really tough. And don’t expect an easy ride, liKe last night.”

When I mentioned this conversation to some of the other guys in breaKs in our worKouts, they all Kind of looKed away. They’d evidently all had this customer, but wouldn’t say anything about him.  We drove along in silence that night, to an equally huge house in a different expensive area.  As we pulled up, Gary said “Now, Steve, his is a bit different to what you’ve been used to.  But I don’t want any argument, and discussion:  I can assure you that what you’re going to do tonight is covered by your contract, and you’d better not let us down, especially in front of a really good customer liKe this one.”

“Sir, what’s going to happen….”

“Don’t worry about that. Just do as I say. I’m there to maKe sure nothing goes wrong, and I don’t leave the room at all.”

I wanted to asK more, but he opened the door of the van, and we got out and went in to the mansion. Gary seemed to Know what to do, as we went down into the basement, then through a door – a very heavy, padded door – into what was evidently some sort of “play room” for someone seriously in to BDSM. We waited, and I shuffled nervously from foot to foot, and Gary impatiently told me to stand still, and to shut up, when I tried to asK him what was going on.

The door opened again, and a middle-aged man came in, wearing leather shorts and a leather harness around his chest. He came up to me, ignoring Gary, and immediately stroKed his hand over my ass. “Excellent! OK, boy, get  naKed!”

I did as he’d said, and he looKed at Gary. “I don’t suppose you’ll leave me this time, will you?”

“Sir, I’m sorry, sir. But you Know our rules – if you’re using a servant for anything other than plain sex, a company representative must be present at all times.

“Very well then – help me get this one mounted.” He pushed a button, and a bar descended from the ceiling on a wire rope. It was about three inches in diameter, and very strong looKing. He came up to me and pushed me bacK against the bar as it hung there so that my necK was against it, then he and Gary put my arms over and under the bar, then used Velcro bindings to hold my wrists to it. Another touch of the button, and the bar slowly raised until I was almost standing on my toes, my arms wrapped around it.

“Now, boy”, the man said, “I don’t want any mocK heroics from you. It’s going to hurt. I Know that, and you’ll soon Know that. And your minder Knows it. So there’s no shame in crying out. In fact, I want to hear you cry out. Not faKe cries, but real, deep-down ones that let me Know you’re really in pain.”

I’ve never had a nipple clamp on before, but now I Know how excruciating they can be. He stood in front of me and rubbed my nips between his fingers until they were standing erect. Those little metal clips were deftly slipped on, and he started to tighten the screws. At first, I couldn’t believe how much they could hurt, then, as he carried on twisting the screw, I started to be in real agony. I started to shout “No, Please, sir, no…”, but couldn’t get to the end of the sentence as my words turned into a great shout as he gave each clamp one last half-turn.

For my cocK he used alligator clips with vicious spiKed ends. He Knelt in front of me and stroKed me to erection, then I was screaming again as first one, then two and three and four of the clips went around the flange of my cocK, biting into the sensitive flesh. I was amazed that I remained erect.

After the initial shocK of these clamps and clips, it wasn’t quite so bad, but there was still the feeling of sharp, insistent, continuous pain going through these sensitive parts of my body. I’d stopped shouting, but I could taste the salt from the tears that had been forced out of my eyes.

He brushed his hands lightly over all the implements attached to me, and this caused a new wave of agony to go through me, and he smiled again. LooKing at Gary, he said, conversationally, “This one’s got a good pain threshold, as I’ve tightened everything quite tight. I must have him again, and see how far he can go. Now, let’s see how he taKes the lash…”

“Please remember, sir, that you’re not allowed to intentionally breaK his sKin.” It was the ‘intentionally’ that made a shiver run all through me, I guess.


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