Uncle Rick was more than just the 'black sheep' of the family. NOBODY talked about him AT ALL. He had been in prison I guess before I had even been born but I never could get anyone to tell me why.

The only time I had asked my parents occurred a couple of years ago. During one of our family's Labor Day get-togethers, I'd overheard one of my aunts say something about 'the old queer' who was 'just living too rich' for him to be doing something legal. I didn't care about the legal or (illegal) part but I sure WAS suddenly interested by the 'queer' part. Especially since I had realized several years earlier that I was gay. And, except for the couple 'flamers' at my school, the only guys I had know who were like me were the few I had corresponded with on the Internet. And since I didn't care to become the second 'black sheep' of our family right then, I sure wasn't going to let anyone here know that I was gay. Even my best friend I was still afraid to confide in. This was still rural western Texas and to be out of the closet here was worse than being a wetback charged with rape. (Sorry, I mean a person of Mexican descent). I really have nothing against them. Heck, just further north in farm country, people couldn't exist without the sharecroppers, and nobody asked for green cards. And besides, my best friend, Rick (or Ricardo), was a legal. His parents even ran that restaurant in town. Just so long as I never invited him to the ranch. Well even that would be OK so long as he were visiting a couple of the vaqueros we had working for us. (That excuse was used a few times). But as a MY friend, forget it. My parents didn't invent subtle snobbish bigotry, but they sure refined it to an art form. And he was sure damn good looking. I had to really hide my feelings when we were together.

Well as I was saying I overheard my aunt talking and then realized they had to be talking about Uncle Rick (not a Ricardo). Later that evening I tried as innocently as possible to ask why Uncle Rick had been in prison. WOW! My father flipped his lid. But he had been drinking a bit more than was good for him and he gave me some information even if he hadn't intended to.

"That (bleep, bleep, bleeping) pedophile is no longer any relative of ours."

He said a bit more before my Mom shushed him but it was about 75% cusswords. He ended with: "The next time I see any fucking faggot it will soon be a dead fucking faggot."

So much for ever confiding in my father. My Mom was more kind hearted but just as scary. "Let's not talk about your older brother, Bill. You know your blood pressure."

My Dad calmed down and even apologized to my Mom. I have to admit, maybe he was a bigot, but he loved my Mom. And even me. That's why I decided he could never find out. I was afraid of losing him.

My Mom continued: "And remember that was a long time ago. He served his time. It's just a shame that your parents didn't find out in time and send him away to get cured. Reverend Phelps said people should send their kids to that ex-gay program if we can catch them in time."

My Dad's expression seemed to say that a graveyard would be a better place. Reverend Phelps thought that the sun shined every morning because Jerry Fallwell asked God personally to have it rise again. Phelps agreed with Fallwell that it was the gay community of New Orleans that directed God's wrath on that city.

Well that was two years ago and I have become an accomplished actor. Shit, it seemed my whole life was an act. I would be going away to college in a couple weeks and I even got a scholarship to U of C, Irvine, California. My folks weren't too happy about that but it was the only place that gave me a scholarship. I never told them that I never really got a regular scholarship. Didn't need to even apply. The fake letter was sent by my Uncle Rick since he wished for me to move out there near him so we could finally get to know each other better. We had been e-mailing each other since I finally found his address and finally got the nerve to write him. He returned an e-mail and then I used up two years of courage to tell him I was gay. His next e-mail was a small book. He just about told me his life story including that fact that his 'boyfriend,' who he had lived with for twenty some years, had died several years back. He said that he had loved him so much that he couldn't seem to care about living anymore without him.

He wrote: "Please give me a new reason for living boy. (He always called me 'boy'). Do your old uncle a big favor. My partner was part of my very soul and I'm totally empty with him gone. And he should have easily outlasted me. (I got the impression he had been a lot younger than my uncle). Life can be so cruel sometimes. And thanks for taking my side about my prison thing. Technically I was guilty, but hell, the other kid was only a year younger than me and we were in love. But when his parents found out, it was all over. And then they insisted in having me arrested and had me charged with everything from contributing to the delinquency of a minor all the way to rape. I didn't have a chance. Even my so-called lawyer hated me. I served the entire seven years. And DO NOT ask about what prison was like. I am just thankful that I LIKED being sodomized -- when it wasn't so brutal. And my last cellmate even cared abut me, even if he was a nigger. And funny thing, I even got to care for him too."

Well, my uncle I guess had a few prejudices himself. But anyways, I found out a lot of other stuff. He lived in a big fancy 'estate' with stables and a swimming pool and even a six car garage. He once let it slip and wrote that "the place was too big even when there had been three of us here." When I inquired later who the third person was, he demurred. He finally said that he was now alone. Later my uncle said he had all the money he could ever spend and that he had a scholarship set up for me if I would only move out there with (or near) him to go to school. I eventually agreed. I never did find out how he got so rich, especially after being in prison. He'd kept saying I'd find out when I saw him in person.

And then just two weeks before I was to go out there, I got this strange registered letter from a fancy law firm in our town. I went to the mailbox when I saw the Fed-Ex truck stopping. It was good I did since I got a letter I would for sure not wish to explain to my parents. "Dear Master William Buckley Jr.: We are sad to have to inform you of the passing of your uncle, Mr. Richard Buckley. We would . . ."

I started shaking and sat down on the ground at the mailbox and started leaking tears. I would never now meet Uncle Rick. Thenext morning I drove into town -- in a truck that Uncle Rick had helped pay for -- and went to the offices of a law firm which had five names on their marquee, all shakers and movers of our community.

To make this short, my uncle left me everything. I was agog when I found out that everything was a small estate and a little over 2 million dollars in assets.

The lawyer continued: "One thing that was explicitly spelled out was this. And it seems so strange I better read it."

"Master William Buckley MUST take up residence at my estate immediately. (Definitely NO LATER THAN August 21st, 200--). If this proves impossible, then he is to so inform you and then the second enclosed sealed letter is to be delivered by same day messenger service to a Mr. -----------------------, of Irvine, California."

"Shit, that's tomorrow! That's impossible!"

"Well, Master William, we do have instructions. We have a first class ticket to the Orange County airport for you that leaves tomorrow morning at 8:35 a.m., a chauffeured limo to get you there on time, and even someone to drive out your truck to California. Of course you might just wish to buy another one out there. Just why your uncle needed you there immediately, we do not know. But this entire thing has been unusually expedited. After all, your uncle died not even two days ago."

Holy shit. "But all my stuff?"

"Yes. We are also to inform you that you need only bring essentials. All else is being provided for you as we speak. Even clothes and temporary transportation. There will also be another lawyer awaiting you with another sealed letter explaining everything. But we have been instructed to inform you that time is critical."

"But how do I make my parents understand the urgency? They don't even know I know my uncle. And I CAN'T TELL them."

"Yes, we have been so informed. But not to worry. We have a contingency. It seems that your parents will be getting a letter, just about now in fact, informing them that a sudden housing opportunity is available for you if you can be there tomorrow. In a way this is even true. But it will come complete with a plea from the owner that since you have all the necessary experience, then the three horses stabled there would have continuous care. The other resident had to leave because of a family emergency."

The next day I was on a flight to southern California. I decided I could get used to being rich real easy. And was then chauffeured to a small estate outside of Irvine. Holy shit. Small my ass. I turned in two circles from the vantage of the rise in the back 'yard'. This was truly a millionaire's estate. Then this other lawyer gave me another letter. This one was quite thick There was also a ring of keys.

"I must inform you that all the details of your uncle's will, will be explained to you at your earliest convenience. Also I must inform you that you are urgently encouraged to read this letter immediately. In fact I am not to leave until I observe you reading the first letter."

I opened the backdoor that led into a chief's wet dream. I settled onto a cushioned chair at the window and opened the 'letter.' It was in fact a large brown envelope that contained a short one half page letter, another key, a combination to another door (so it said), and another large sealed envelope.

Dear William: Read this letter NOW. The lawyer has instructions to leave when you started reading this. Make sure of this.

What the hell! I looked up and indeed the guy was already gone. I went back to the mysterious letter.

Sorry to saddle you with all this but I suddenly needed emergency surgery from which there was a real possibility that I would not recover. So if you are reading this, I am sad that I will never have gotten to meet you in person. The larger letter contains about a 5 page missive explaining things I'd been keeping from you. And the code to get into my computer files. There are also instructions for tapping my off-shore bank accounts. Should be another 3 million.

But none of that is important right now.

Please RIGHT NOW, take the key and use it on the large black door leading off from the kitchen. It is an elevator. The combination below will activate it. There is a small surprise in the basement. Please take good care of what you find. It is NOW your property. And again, please. It is imperative you do this NOW. The property is perishable. Good luck and have a good life.

Your not very saintly uncle.

Rick

Holy shit! What could all the mystery be about? Key? Elevator? Combination? Well, I'm here now so . . .

Holy shit! Again. The combo was 9 digits on a touch pad. When the door of the elevator opened at the bottom I almost fell over from shock! It was a dungeon! Or at least its modern day equivalent. Though quite posh and ornate, nobody would have taken it for anything else. There was a weird chair with multiple straps. A couple different sized slings. An X-shaped cross. A large padded table with a weird indentation at one end and several holes right through it. Looking up I saw a system of dangling cables and chains that seemed to run on some network of tracks all over the high ceiling. This was my uncle's mystery? He was into bondage stuff?

As I took a step into the room, an entire second room beyond suddenly lit up.

And then I had heart failure as a small noise came from that direction. I looked around for a handy weapon and saw an entire wall of totally macabre items. I picked up a small metal bar that had rings at both ends. With some trepidation I entered this second room through a small alcove, and dropped the bar.

Holy shit! And a thousand other expletives. I now understood all the strange instructions and why, but simply had difficulty believing it. Watching me from a large cage, with barely room to sit up, and with real honest-to-goodness bars, was a totally naked boy.

"What the fuck!" I must have yelled it pretty loudly.

The boy seemed to cringe at my words. Forgetting everything else, I rushed to the cage trying to figure how to rescue him. As I reached him I could smell quite a pungent odor coming from bucket in the corner. There was some paper on top but what was underneath was quite obvious. How could ANYONE treat a poor kid like this? I was starting to loathe my uncle.

The cage had a hasp lock and I started looking for a key. It was then that the boy spoke.

"Master, may I please speak?"

I finally gave him a good look and then realized that he was not really a kid. He might even have been almost as old as I was. But he had no hair anywhere. His penis, however, was definitely man-sized and then some. And standing at attention. And I am ashamed to say I was getting hard myself. And damn the boy smiled as he noticed.

"Damn kid, of course you can talk."

"Master, here is the key."

What the hell? The kid handed me the key through the bars. He could have let himself out. What the hell was going on? I must have said this last out loud because the boy answered.

"Master, Master Rick gave me the key just in case. Also the elevator code. But I was hoping that I didn't need to use either. I could have easily held out one more day."

I opened the cage and had to help the boy out. He was quite small for his probable age but he had to do a contortion or two to get out of the cage. And damn he smelled.

Maybe not a brilliant idea, but seeing a huge open shower area in the corner of the room, I then said: "How about you take a shower kid, and I'll get you some clothes."

I looked around and saw none but there were lot of cabinets lining one wall. And a couple closed doors.

"Master, please may I ask a question?"

Damn! Cut out this master shit already!

"What is it kid?"

"Master, a slave is not permitted to touch his erogenous zones. Will you help clean me?"

I was perplexed, exasperated, angry, and starting to wonder if I had just slipped into the Twilight Zone, and I unfortunately took it out on this poor kid.

"Just take the damn shower! I can see soap and shampoo from here." Then I added. "Sorry kid. But this whole thing has really weirded me out. And please stop calling me master. Nobody owns you."

The kid actually laughed. "Master, I can see that you're in shock. I guess Master Rick never explained his sideline. He is a superior slave trainer. But since you are here instead of him may I ask if he's OK? Please?"

"Sorry kid. He passed away over two days ago."

I surely never expected the kid's reaction. He collapsed against me and started quietly crying. Now what? I felt pretty bad when I learned of my uncle's death and even cried, now this kid does the same. He obviously had some kind of strong attachment. He soon stopped crying, stood up, and without a word, went to the shower and started soaping himself up right there in front of me. Well he was already naked. I could no longer stand the smell of the bucket, and so I went into the cage, retrieved it, and emptied it in the nearby toilet. (Also an open-air affair. Certainly no modesty around here). I had seen something in the other corner of the cage, and went to look. Damn! It was a game-boy. There was also an MP3 player.

Finally I found some clothes in a walk in closet. I put them out for the boy.

"Kid. I'll be up in the kitchen. Please dress when you finish. Do you remember the elevator code?"

"Yes master."

I thought that the first thing I needed to do was stop all this master stuff.

I also had to retreat to a more sane area of the house.