Chapter 28
Magic and Loss
I've said before that Alex has a certain magic about him, a way of turning people's emotions inside out. He can bring joy with the merest flash of his beautiful eyes, or the gentle touch of his hand. He can also take it away when it suits him, or bring other less welcome feelings into the light. He'd be a mystic, if fantasy and magic were things I believed in. But I don't. What he is instead is a skilled manipulator. Most times I know he's not even aware of the effect he has on those around him, me especially, and he does it without meaning to.
But just as I have learned that I have a certain power to hurt him, Alex knows he has the power to hurt me in return.
He would not look at me as he stood there, battered and exhausted from the nightmarish chase that had lasted nearly two hours. A chase he could have ended, and didn't. And now we would both pay a price for it at the hands of a man neither of us even knew.
Had it been Robert, or Samuel, or even Bartholomew, perhaps it would not have seemed so awful. Not that there was anything overtly sinister about this Vincent. I'd noticed him earlier. Younger like myself, with a handsome slave just out of his teens. He'd done nothing to indicate that he might not be trustworthy, but I could tell by his posture, and the way he had my boy tied, that he was likely a rough and stern master. And of course there was the simple fact that he did not love Alex. He did not know what makes my boy happy, what makes him sad, what makes him smile, and what really and truly hurts him. How could I just let this man take him for the night?
Vincent extended his hand to me as the other masters gathered round, all quite disappointed in the outcome and quite jealous of the winner's luck, or skill. His grip was strong and sure.
"Quite a boy you have here, Master Steven," he said in a soft voice.
I had no argument there. Alex still would not raise his head.
Vincent turned the boy round so I could see his backside. There between his shoulders was a livid scratch, bruised around the edges. The mark was unmistakable. "Mayday had his paws into him when I found them. It's a good thing the boy was plugged or we'd still be trying to get them apart."
That was a vision I quickly ushered from my mind, but of course, it kept coming back in spite of my best efforts, as all my visions of Alex in unspeakable torment often did.
I had to force myself to focus on Wim as he quietly explained the rules. "Vincent, the boy is yours until midnight. You may do as you wish with him. Steven, you cannot interfere."
I nodded that I understood.
Wim continued addressing the victor, as Alex stood straight and still and quiet beside him, the wiggling of his toes the only movement he made. "You are strictly forbidden to do anything that might cause lasting injury. Alex has a safeword. You will respect it."
"Of course," the young master said, looking at me with surprisingly gentle eyes. "Still, I would very much like to hear him scream."
I couldn't help but smile, even as my heart raced in my chest. "He'll scream beautifully for you." Alex raised his head for just a second and gave me a vacant stare. Then he lowered his chin to his chest once more.
"I'm sure he will."
"At midnight," Wim continued, "you will return the boy to his master," and he handed Vincent a card that certainly had my room on it.
Vincent then turned his eyes to me. "Master, I will release my claim on him if you wish."
It was the gesture I'd been told to expect should Alex get himself caught, and it was given with all sincerity. I almost took it without a second thought. But I didn't. Instead I stood in front of Alex and studied this boy I'd always thought I knew so well. He was filthy and utterly spent, his rapid breathing the only visible sign that he was currently terrified. With a hand under his chin I forced him to look at me.
He was angry. Angry at me for leaving him alone most of the afternoon, for putting him on display when I knew he hated it, most of all for making him do this, for the dogs, for the chase, for just about everything else he could think of in that moment.
In the lowest, softest voice I'd ever heard him use, Alex spoke just two words to me.
"Fuck you."
If it was his intention to make me angry in return, it worked. I took his leash from my pocket and handed it to Vincent. "Take him."
And he did. Roughly. Alex stumbled along behind, and I watched until they disappeared into the house. Wim's hand found my shoulder.
"I've known Vince since he was Joshua's age. Perfectly safe. Make no mistake, he will be very hard on Alex. Expect quite a few bruises when you get him back, but your boy likes being knocked around doesn't he?"
"Yes, he does. And sometimes he hits back."
Wim looked at me with warm and perceptive eyes. "Are you two fighting?"
"No. He's just sending me a message. If you don't mind, I need some time to myself."
"Certainly." Our host excused himself with his usual formal style.
Alone, I returned to our empty room in the carriage house, nothing left to do but watch the clock and wonder what was going on in the main house, as the lights from its many windows shone toward me across the manicured lawn.
I'd stretched out on the sofa and was already half- asleep when Robert and Samuel let themselves in. They were both dressed in worn comfortable jeans and denim shirts. Michael was as well, looking quite handsome with his blond hair swept back. Young Sebastian was still in his black T- shirt, and now he also had a silken pair of black soccer shorts around his waist, loose-fitting so as not to irritate the freshly pierced flesh between his legs.
"I believe there is the little matter of our wager, Sam," Robert said, clearly concluding a conversation from outside.
With a frown and a sigh, the doctor reached into his back pocket and pulled out a substantial roll of bills which quickly found its way into Robert's hands.
"I'd have bet a hundred times he was a winner," Collins said with certain disappointment in his voice. Robert only laughed.
"You bet against Alex?" I asked in mock disdain.
"Turned out to be the smart one, didn't I?" Robert
replied with his typical biting sarcasm.
My friends made themselves comfortable while young Sebastian was sent to the bar to make drinks for everyone.
"Kid makes a mean martini," Samuel said to me as I watched the redheaded eleven-year-old pouring and shaking and plopping olives into the glasses. "Sure you won't have one?"
I certainly could have used one at that moment, but that kind of stuff was off limits, for my own sake, and for Alex. "Iced tea will be fine," I replied.
Sam nodded, and his eyes told me he understood. I know Robert hadn't said anything about the problems of my youth, it is not his way to share secrets, but Samuel Collins is a rather perceptive character.
"It doesn't mean I can't enjoy watching our little bartender though," I offered with a laugh. It was after all an incredibly adorable scene. The little guy was too short and had to kneel on one of the stools in order to reach the counter. He wiggled his bare toes and hummed a little song to himself while he worked. It sounded classical.
"Brahms," Sam proclaimed in answer to my unvoiced question. "I think. He knows them better than I do. Brahms?" he called out.
"Yes, master," Sebastian replied without turning from his duties. He resumed his little one boy symphony without missing a note.
"Is that all he's listening to these days?" Robert asked with a chuckle as he sat down beside me, pulling Michael onto the cushion next to him.
"No. I'm sorry to say he's discovered rock. Or what passes for it these days. I had to wash his mouth out last week for singing some lyrics I did not approve of."
Somehow I imagined that the classic boyhood punishment took on some wicked twists under Samuel Collins' direction. He smiled at me.
"It was just a bar of Ivory, Steven. Honestly, you must think I'm some sort of monster. Of course he was strapped down at the time, and it was in his mouth for about three hours. You won't be singing that song again, will you, boy?"
"No, sir," the redhead called back, just now placing the glasses on a silver tray. Sebastian then walked toward us, expertly balancing it with one hand. He held the tray down to me with a bright smile and I took my tea.
"Thank you, Sebastian."
"My pleasure, sir."
He served everyone, then stood in front of Samuel with the tray tucked neatly under his arm.
"May I have a Pepsi, master?" he asked.
"Do you think you've been good today?" came the playful reply.
Little four-foot [1.20 m] Seb stood tall. "Very good, sir."
"Alright. Just one. No refills."
"Yes, sir!" And the boy scurried off to the bar once more.
"Too much sugar makes him jumpy," Sam explained. "But he's earned a special treat today."
"How's his
3; "
"Healing nicely already."
Robert laid a hand on my knee as Sebastian toddled back and sat down gingerly at his master's feet, being sure to place his aluminum can on a coaster. That boy is almost too mannerly. It is rather disconcerting at times.
"Wim told us you had come back here," Robert said. "Are you having a hard time with this?"
I nodded, but of course Robert as yet had no clue as to the real reason.
"I'm surprised Alex was caught," Sam offered, almost consoling me it seemed. "Perhaps Bartholomew wore him out a bit more than he was letting on."
"No," I said, sipping my tea. "He let himself get caught. He's trying to teach me a lesson."
Robert shook his head and grinned. "I was sure he'd do something like this sooner or later. He likes to push people's buttons, yours especially."
"He's very good at it."
"Masterful, I would say. But I'm afraid he has bitten off a bit more than he bargained for with Vincent."
I was about to get to my feet and run off to find him, such was Robert's tone, but my friend and mentor held me back. "Don't misread me, Steven. Vincent is trustworthy. He would never truly harm anyone. But he is also very cruel and very harsh, and not nearly so patient and tolerant as I am."
Michael laughed in spite of himself.
"You will pay for that, dear boy," Robert said, smacking the eighteen-year-old on the thigh.
"Vincent plays rather rough. Alex is not used to that. The boy is having a difficult time right now, rest assured, and no doubt regretting his decision."
"Do we go forward with our plans?" Samuel asked, "when the boy returns."
I had to think about it, but not for long. "We do."
At exactly midnight, there was a knock at the door. I was the only one wide-awake. Sebastian lay curled up in Samuel's arms as they both lay snoring across the sofa. Robert had taken Michael into the bedroom hours ago for a good hard fuck and neither of them had come back out. Seb cracked his eyes open as I walked by. The knock came again.
"Why don't you get everyone up, sweetheart?" I said to him softly. He yawned and stretched and nodded his cute little red head.
I opened the door, and there was Vincent with a rather satisfied look on his face. Alex lay at his feet, tightly and rather brutally hog-tied, a cum-soaked cloth rag in his mouth to gag him. I noticed fresh welts and bruises on his back and thighs. Lots of them. And there was a single red rose sticking out of his butt.
Vincent smiled at me. "Alex has a great little ass, master. And he does scream beautifully."
"Did he behave himself?"
"Not at first, but we came to an understanding, didn't we, boy?"
He kicked Alex in the ribs. Not a real kick. Just a soft little touch of his booted foot. Alex moaned softly and nodded his head.
"Don't suppose he's for sale?" I saw the wink in Vincent's eyes. Alex of course did not. He moaned again and bucked in his tight and merciless bonds.
"Afraid not," I said, after allowing a bit of silence to make the boy worry.
"Well, I had to ask. See you around kid."
And with that he turned and walked away.
By now Robert and Sam had made their way toward the door. Together we lifted Alex off the floor and deposited the naked boy in the center of the room. He struggled for a moment, his calculated show of distress. Then he lifted his head, with some real difficulty, and gave me that look I'd come to know so well. The one that said, 'I'm done. You can untie me now.'
I knelt down and pressed my fingers into the sticky rag that filled his mouth. It was tied tightly behind his head.
"Yours or his?" I asked as I wiped the spent cum on his forehead.
He jerked sharply and glared at me. "mmmph."
Reading my thoughts I heard Robert whisper to Michael. "Bring Master Steven a cane. If you choose one not to my liking, I will thrash you to a bloody pulp."
The young man's face paled, and he gazed down at Alex, lying there bound and momentarily motionless. It was not difficult to tell what was in his heart, but, as always, he did as ordered. And as always, I noticed his selection was rather harsh. A long thick cane with a steel tip. I wondered. Was it his fear of Robert's threats, or something else that led him to show those flashes of cruelty whenever Alex was concerned?
"Perhaps that one would be a little too effective, Michael," his master whispered softly.
Standing as they were behind him, Alex could not see the evil implement of torture in his dear sweet Michael's hands.
"I
3; I'd like to see what it does to him, sir." It was the first time Mike had ever professed a desire to cause Alex pain. Alex heard those cold words, uttered by a young man he deeply loved and admired, and pressed his head into the antique Persian rug on which he lay.
Robert looked at me. I nodded. "But Michael must do it himself."
"I think that was the idea, Steven."
Michael stood over the boy and swung the cane a few times to get the proper mechanics. "Where, sir?" he asked me.
Tied as he was, the soles of Alex' feet were vulnerable and defenseless. Pale and soft. "His feet," I said.
"Mmmph! Mmmph!" Alex fought desperately to free himself, only straining his stretched and aching muscles that much more.
"Alex."
He was rubbing his wrists raw.
"Alex!" I shouted at him, which I rarely ever do. "Be still!"
Finally I had to kneel in front of him again, and take his head between my hands.
"Look at me."
He did, with venom in his eyes.
"You're being punished. I think you know why."
He closed his eyes in that smug manner thirteen-year- olds master so well.
"Look at me."
He did. Tears were coming now. I reached behind his head and untied the cloth.
"Who's sperm is this?" I asked him gently.
His face flushed with guilt. "It's mine, sir."
"So you enjoyed yourself then."
"No, sir." There was no doubting the sincerity of his denial. "He made me cum, sir."
"How many times?"
"Until it started to hurt, sir."
I stuffed the rag back into the boy's mouth. "Can you snap your fingers."
With a frightened whimper he nodded and demonstrated that he could.
"Snap them twice if you need to take a break," I told him. "But we decide when you're finished. This is punishment, Alex, not play. It's time you learned the difference."
He closed his eyes and turned his head away from me.
"Ten strokes, please," I ordered.
Michael drew the heavy cane back and brought it down sharply. It made a low whistle as it cut through the air. The sound that came when it hit the boy's feet was hard to describe. Somewhere between a crack and a thud.
Alex shrieked into his gag and balled his hands into fists. Already a livid red welt crossed his right foot where the cane had struck. Michael did it again. Alex howled and choked back a sob. Then another blow, this one landing on both feet at once.
Alex snapped his fingers.
Michael stopped, but did not put the cane down. We gave the boy several minutes to recover as we all stood over him. Sebastian was utterly fascinated and reached his hand out to touch Alexander's feet. Dr. Collins took his wrist and gently pulled him away.
I nodded to Michael and he began again. He was crying, but he delivered three more strokes with expert precision. Alex was beside himself. Mike raised the cane again, determined to carry out the boy's sentence. Samuel's hand stopped him.
"I think he's had enough," he said softly. "Any more, and nerve damage becomes a possibility. Besides, I have a better idea." He whispered something to Sebastian and the redheaded boy quickly scurried off toward the armoire, returning with five long black feathers, handing one to each of us with a deliciously evil smile on his face.
With the gentlest touch, I ran the feather across my boy's right foot. Alex jerked wildly.
Receiving encouragement from his master, Sebastian did the same with the helpless left foot in front of him. Alex took in a sharp breath and tried to roll onto his side. Robert's boot between his shoulder blades pinned him down quickly.
"Don't move, slave," Robert hissed sharply.
Sebastian and I continued with the boy's feet. Samuel and Michael knelt down and worked their feathers up and down the boy's sides, concentrating on his ribs where he was most ticklish. Hog-tied and gagged, and pinned by Robert's pressing weight, Alex had no hope of defending himself against this assault. He howled and cried and struggled like a little madman, only to receive further torment for his efforts.
We tortured him with the feathers for thirty minutes. Alex was breathless and in hysterics when we finally stopped. He whined plaintively when he discovered he was not about to be untied. We busied ourselves in the little kitchenette, preparing a late snack. Young Sebastian yawned, causing us all to do so, but a bit of food and drink would help restore our energy. I walked over to where Alex lay moaning quietly to himself. I forced open the boy's clenched fists and placed a large bowl of popcorn in his bound hands.
"If you move, or let any spill, we'll tickle you again."
Surrounding our living table, we ate and talked, and Seb even proudly showed us his newest ring. I would learn it never took much encouragement for that boy to take his pants off, and they did not go back on. He was adorable in just his long black T-shirt, sitting beside Alex with his slender legs folded beneath him, cruelly resting his cold can of soda between Alex' shoulders.
Alex jumped when Seb did that, and several pieces of popcorn left the shaking bowl.
"He spilled some, sir!" the eleven-year-old was quick to point out.
Youthful Michael, not so effected by the late hour, took the bowl away, grabbed his feather and tormented Alex with it for another half-hour, even rolling the boy onto his side and tickling his belly button. Alex had reached the point where he could almost sense an impending tickle. He flinched each time, before the feather even touched him, and sobbed miserably whenever he was given a brief moment to catch his breath.
Seb soon joined in, laughing joyously. A little boy's laugh. It was endearing to hear, and interesting to know it came at the anguish and misery of another boy not much older than he was.
Robert, Sam, and I simply sat back and watched, rather amazed at how quickly the two young slaves had formed a team and the sheer delight they both seemed to be taking in the torture of my Alex.
Finally, when Alex was showing the first signs of real distress, they both stopped. They gently rubbed the boy's aching shoulders. It was a touching scene, and I let it go for a few minutes.
"Leave him be," I finally told them.
Immediately they stood up. The bulge in Michael's jeans was obvious, and by the uncomfortable way Seb was prancing around, it was clear his little cock was trying its best to get hard.
"Show me, Seb," Sam Collins ordered.
The eleven-year-old lifted his shirt. Sure enough his little organ was swollen and straining against the ring that kept it down between his legs. With a warm smile, the doctor gestured the boy close.
"Hold still." And with great care he worked the ring free of the boy's scrotum. Seb sighed and moaned in delight as his penis instantly stood straight up, four cute little inches [10 cm] of boyflesh. Rare was the time, over the next several days, when Sebastian wasn't walking around proudly sporting an erection.
"No touching," Sam warned.
Sebastian nodded and threw his slender arms around his master's waist.
"I remember when you used to get hard like that, Michael," Robert said with a warm smile.
"I was never that young, sir," Mike replied, adjusting the hard cock in his pants.
"No, I suppose you weren't."
Over the years I've learned more and more about Michael, and how horrible his life had been before Robert took him in at age fifteen. He was not joking about never being as young as Sebastian, for his childhood had been filled with nothing but pain and abuse and hardship. 'This is the childhood I missed out on, right now,' he told me once during a private moment as he gazed at his master with loving eyes.
The two of them embraced, and Robert worked his hands inside Michael's jeans. "I haven't been taking enough care of this lately, Mike," he said softly. "I am sorry."
Care of course likely meant having it whipped or cruelly milked, anything but what most would call pleasure. Nevertheless Michael smiled and rested his head on Robert's shoulder.
I gazed down at Alex. He was lying still and quiet again, wiggling his fingers, which were beginning to take on a rather unhealthy shade. Kneeling down beside him, I kissed him on the head and finally removed Vincent's rose from his ass. I slowly untied his bonds.
"Take it slow, Alex," I told him once I had him freed.
He straightened his slender limbs carefully, and I rubbed his hands to get them warmed up again.
"Stand up."
Slowly he got to his feet, quickly to discover that having your soles beaten has certain long-term effects that are not entirely pleasant. He danced from foot to foot and his eyes watered. His front was bruised almost as terribly as his back. A full day of beatings and discipline had taken a certain toll to be sure. I untied the gag and tossed the wet cloth aside, drawing him forcefully into a close embrace. My boy winced and trembled and tried to pull himself away.
"He whipped you."
Alex hissed as I ran my hands over his shoulders and pressed them firmly into his latest bruises. "Yes, sir."
"Did you deserve it?"
"Yes, sir."
"You misbehaved?"
He nodded slowly, still shifting his weight from one foot to another.
"Tell me."
He looked me in the eyes for the first time. "I wouldn't suck his dick, sir."
"Why not?"
"I don't love him, sir."
That was a dagger meant for my heart, a sign I should have noticed, but it somehow missed, or, more truthfully, I simply allowed it to.
"And so he whipped you."
Again he nodded.
"And did you suck him then?"
Choking back a sob he nodded miserably that he had. Whipped into submission. Something he'd never endured before.
Kissing his neck I whispered in his ear. "Did he fuck you?"
Silence.
"I asked you a question, Alex. Did he fuck you?"
"Yes," he answered, quiet and ashamed.
"Did you enjoy it?"
"No."
I kissed him on the lips, forcing my tongue into his mouth. He pulled against me for a moment, then relaxed, and I felt the familiar light and playful touch of his own tongue dancing with mine. I pushed him away when I felt his cock hardening against my leg.
"Bring me your cuffs and harness. And your belt."
"Yes, sir."
Alex walked off with an uneven gait, favoring his left foot, which seemed to have gotten the worst of the cane. He would not even look at Michael. Cradling everything in his arms, he returned and lay his gear on the floor in front of him. I gestured to my companions. All four of us adults roughly took a slender limb and locked a cuff in place, clicking the padlocks simultaneously. As a further humiliation, we made Alex kneel in front of Sebastian, and we all watched as the younger boy put Alex back into his harness.
I put the belt on him myself. "You won't be needing these for a while," I said, giving his cock and balls a gentle squeeze before locking them in the metal pod once more.
"On your knees, Alex."
He obeyed, and the five of us quickly surrounded him. The realization that he was the only one who was naked struck him instantly. Even Sebastian was as fully dressed as he ever gets.
I gazed over at Michael. We had planned all along for him to start things off and give Alex a glimpse of what the next five days would hold for him. It was a big step for the young man, who had once been Alex himself. He was silent for a moment, staring down at this gentle clever boy he'd somehow managed to fall in love with. We waited, and finally Michael broke the silence. Alex would tell me years later, 'Mike became my master that day.' And it was true. None of us yet saw it, least of all Michael himself, but it was true.
"You are our slave for the next five days, Alex. You will obey any order any of us give you without question. You will be naked. You will be silent. You will be bound. You will be tortured. You will crawl everywhere you are told to go. There will be pain. There will be punishment. You will not sleep. Now, suck my cock."
Alex just stared in horrified shock at Michael whom he so dearly loved. For a moment he looked as if he were about to cry, but then he crawled forward on his hands and knees, opened the young man's jeans with shaking fingers, and took Michael into his mouth.