Jason Masters

Boy Sketches

A Poor Decision

Two boys living in an alternate universe where children are allowed immense freedom of choice make what turns out to be a very poor decision in their quest for extra pocket-money.

500 words (1 page)
Seth (9yo) and Jacob (7yo)
Mb – prost bond

This very short story is darker than most of my stories, although the ending is at least hopeful. The story is mostly told as flashbacks.
This story was inspired by a picture from devillink. The names of the boys are not significant. I just like those names.

It had been a very poor decision and now Seth and Jacob looked the picture of misery as they stood on the street corner, watching their father's car approaching to pick them up after their 'job'.

It had seemed like such a good idea. They could earn some pocket money by hiring themselves out as prostitutes for the day. But it had all gone terribly wrong.

They had been advised not to, of course. Their parents, teachers and all had universally tried to tell them that it was dangerous and no life for a child, but the brothers were too taken with the idea to listen. It seemed like easy money to them.

Now, Seth had to lean against the wall to help him stand up. The nine-year-old had heard of concussion and wondered if that was what he had. His whole body seemed to hurt. Especially his anus. He shuddered still at the memory.

Seth was covered in bruises, including one on his left cheek where the 'client' had slapped him hard and two black eyes where the client had punched him. All of these were because he complained about their brutal treatment. The heavy metal collar locked around Seth's neck and his nakedness were constant reminders of the abuse he and his brother had suffered.

His little brother Jacob was in only slightly better condition. He, too, was covered in bruises and welts from the beatings he had been given and was naked, but at least his face was untouched – unless you counted what the client had repeatedly forced into Jacob's mouth. He still felt a little sick from the slightly salty aftertaste of what he'd been forced to swallow.

At least his rump had only been beaten and nothing worse, but the weighty metal cuffs which enclosed his wrists and ankles would not allow Jacob to forget how they had been used to stretch him out so that he could be beaten over his whole body. The little seven-year-old's throat still ached from screaming so hard for so long.

Adding insult to injury, they hadn't even been paid for these 'services'. In fact, having lost all their clothes, they were even worse off than before.

The car stopped and their father stepped out. "Oh, boys!" he said, concern and sympathy fighting for dominance in both his expression and tone. Blast the Minimal Intervention Laws! He should have been allowed to stop his children from doing this.

As his father approached, Jacob, his voice husky from screaming so much, croaked "I'm sorry, daddy."

Seth found his father's arm steadying him as he was led, staggering like a drunken man, toward the car. "I warned you," said his father, unhappily.

"I know," moaned Seth. "We should have listened to you. I'm sorry."

Carefully and gently, their father clicked the seat belts in place to keep the boys safe before driving straight to the nearest hospital to have their injuries attended to.

That, of course, was a very good decision.

Benjamin the puppy-boy

A boy has to eat from a dog bowl

750 words (1½ pages)
Ben (boy)
Mb – nosex – chast humil

This work was inspired by 'How Much?' from PupPlayBoy

My little puppy-boy stared at the filled dog bowl in front of him, his face registering disbelief and horror.

"Dog food!?" His tone was frankly disbelieving. He couldn't believe what I was asking him to do, and I didn't blame him. I had fastened a collar around his neck, he was naked except for the chastity device with which I'd enclosed his tiny cocklet and I'd strapped his hands into mittens which forced him to keep his hands closed into fists, making them effectively useless. At the same time, the padding over the knuckles ensured that being forced to walk on them like a dog, as he'd been doing for some time now, did not cause him much discomfort and certainly caused him no harm. Now, I had emptied the contents of a can, clearly labelled as dog food, into a bowl and was expecting him to eat it.

"You said that you trusted me," I replied as he turned his head and his beautiful, big green eyes looked directly into mine. "If you trust me, then you should believe that I'd never make you eat something that would harm you or make you sick. This is a test. Do you really trust me or not? If you do, then you eat it."

The boy stared doubtfully at the bowl again and asked a superfluous question.

"How much?" It was a delaying tactic and we both knew it, but I was a tolerant master.

"All of it" was my firm reply. "No more delay. Eat!"

There was only a moment's hesitation, then the small boy lowered his face to the bowl, closed his eyes and began to eat the contents of the bowl, a determined expression on his face.

***

Ben raised his head from the empty bowl, his face smeared with the brown gravy from his meal. I had made him eat every scrap, and then made him lick the bowl clean for good measure. He obeyed; reluctantly, but he obeyed.

I followed up by making him lick around his mouth to clean away as much of the gravy smears as his small tongue could reach.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" I asked him. He didn't reply immediately and looked down at the ground, a little sullen. I was going to fix that soon, but I wanted to have another minute of fun first.

"Come on, tell the truth. Was that anywhere near as bad as you imagined?" Ben finally looked at me and answered, less sullenly than he might have, "No, it wasn't so bad. I expected it to taste worse than that."

I chuckled. It was time to reveal my secret. I picked up the empty tin with the label proclaiming it to be dog food, brought it close to Ben's face and turned it around until he could see the sticky tape holding the label in place. He looked puzzled.

I pulled the tape off and unwound the dog food label to reveal the tin's real label – one which declared it to be a brand of beef stew, definitely intended for human consumption. I couldn't help laughing at Ben's astonished face.

"You tricked me!" he said, rather accusingly.

"I did." I admitted. "And you chose to trust me in spite of your doubts. Did I betray that trust? Or did I only take the game just far enough and no further? Hmm?"

Ben's little face crumpled and I held him to me, stroking his lovely, brown hair as he cried tears of relief. He pushed himself against me and wrapped his mittened hands around me in a hug as he wept. I understood how he felt, and he knew it.

After his sobs faded, I got a bowl of warm water and a washcloth to clean the now tear-stained ring of remaining gravy off his face. Once this was done, I glanced down to the chastity device around his genitals.

"I expect you're desperate for a good wank by now. You've worn that thing for almost twenty-four hours. Don't worry, I'll take care of it for you."

Ben's face registered alarm. He was actually a terrible little prude, but I was slowly curing him of that. I would never (and never want to) remould him into a slut, but he desperately needed some of his attitudes rebalanced. I gently took hold of his chin and looked directly into his eyes.

"You said that you trusted me," I intoned and almost magically, Ben relaxed. My puppy-boy trusted me, and I would never betray that trust.

Sebastian the Sailor

A young cabin boy on a sailing vessel in olden times is put through an initiation by the crew. He's scared but prepared to go through with it, and the crew are are a lot more kindly than they might have been.

1500 words (3 pages)
Sebastian (young boy)
Mb – nosex – bond humil

This story was partly inspired by 'Sailor's Ropes' by corazon65.

Sebastian sighed. It had finally happened. He was unhappy, but resigned to his fate.

Having been taken on as a cabin boy on the small cargo ship, he'd had only a couple of days so far to get to know the rough but friendly crew and to become familiar with his onboard duties.

The sailing ship he was on acted as a coastal cargo vessel, hardly ever spending more than a week at sea before making port again. It was a better life than that on the ocean-going vessels, and Sebastian was pleased to get such a position.

Only one thing had slightly bothered Sebastian: The amused looks with which the other crew members had regarded him seemed, to Sebastian, to hide secret intentions. It took him only a single day to remember the stories he'd heard about things which were done to a new cabin boy by the crew of a ship, after which the amused looks from the crew took on a new aspect for Sebastian.

Being neither over-naïve nor particularly shy, Sebastian quickly decided it would be better to let the men do what they wanted with him and get it over with. They didn't seem to be an over-rough crew and besides, it was certain that he was no match for even one of the men. If he decided to fight, he was sure to lose badly so it was better to cooperate and keep the men in good spirits.

Besides, there was a chance that it might even be fun.

Thus it was, on the third day at sea and with a good, following breeze requiring no more than a hand at the wheel to hold the ship on course, what Sebastian had anticipated finally happened; he had been called up on deck and the First Mate announced, "It's time for ye to learn some sailor's knots, boy."

This was when Sebastian had sighed, then he looked the First Mate directly in the eye and coolly replied, "Don't you mean it's time to tie me up?"

There was a roar of laughter from the men. The First Mate, after a moment of being thoroughly taken aback, quickly joined in the general amusement. Sebastian couldn't help the brief smile which flitted across his own face at having successfully second-guessed the experienced man.

"It seems ye know it all, boy," said the First Mate in a teasing but good-natured tone, once he could control his laughter.

"Not at all," returned Sebastian, honestly. "I've heard a few stories and I made a lucky guess."

"Well, ye guessed right. So, ye're willing then?"

"To tell you the truth, I can't remember ever being so scared in all my life as I am now," admitted Sebastian, "but I'll do what you want. I can't stop you anyway."

"That ye can't, lad, but there's no need to be scared. We'll not hurt ye, 'less ye asks. There's some as likes a bit of pain with their ropes." A sidelong glance by the First Mate toward the youngest crew member (barring Sebastian), and the way the man blushed at the look, left Sebastian with the distinct impression that the man had once been a cabin boy.

"Thanks, but I'd prefer the ropes only, please," replied Sebastian, an involuntary shiver of fear making it clear that he wasn't joking.

"There be one more thing, lad," said the First Mate.

Sebastian was able to guess what that 'one more thing' was. He wasn't looking forward to this, but it had to be done. "Clothes?" he asked, momentarily closing his eyes to block out the men's amused looks.

"Aye, lad. Strip. We want ye naked for the binding."

Sebastian took a deep breath. There was no real privacy on a small ship like this anyway, but somehow this seemed more humiliating. But he'd decided to go through with it so, without another word, he began to unbutton his breeches.

All of Sebastian's clothing lay in a pile on the deck. Sebastian stood next to the pile, clad in only what nature had provided him with and fidgeting a little from the mild embarrassment of his exposure. He looked at the First Mate, waiting for what came next. In truth, he was still quite scared although he tried not to show it.

The First Mate, however, was not fooled for a moment. "Ye're a brave lad," he said to Sebastian, his voice warmly sincere. "Now, sit down on this coil of rope, here." Sebastian obeyed and another sailor approached him, holding a coil of lighter rope.

To Sebastian's surprise, they talked to him constantly as he was being bound, actually describing and naming the knots they were using to bind him with. Their easy-going manner and the gentleness with which they handled him helped ease Sebastian's fears.

By the time the men had nearly finished, Sebastian was quite secure. His hands were tied behind his back and secured to his body with more rope, and his legs had been tied together at mid-thigh as well as just above and just below the knees and at the ankles.

He couldn't even stand up because there were ropes going around the back of his neck and down to his leg ropes, which forced him to stay crouched over and to keep his legs bent. His discomfort was only small, but his bondage was secure. Sebastian knew that there was no way in the world that he could get out of this by himself.

The most uncomfortable part of the bondage, and the most humiliating, was the crotch ropes digging into the crack of his behind but Sebastian found that, by not trying to straighten out, he could minimise the pressure on those ropes.

The last knot they showed him was called the "monkey's fist" and Sebastian didn't figure out what it was for until it was too late. He opened his mouth to ask what it was used for and, in a flash, the ball of rope was thrust into his mouth and the ends of the rope brought around behind his head and tied there, gagging him.

After a bit of experimentation, Sebastian realised that even with the rope ball almost filling his mouth, he could still articulate well enough to be understood.

"Not very effective," he muffled past the gag, looking at the First Mate who chuckled at his words.

"Aye, ye're right there, lad. But it looks good on ye, and that's what counts. And who'd be coming to help ye out here, if ye did yell?"

Sebastian shivered in sudden fear, but the First Mate continued, as though he'd always meant to, "Ye're a lucky lad that ye'll not be needing others to help ye. On this ship, we look after our own and ye're one of us, now." All of the men, led by the First Mate, let out three cheers for their new cabin boy.

"Just one thing more," said the First Mate, looking apologetic for the first time. "There be a small problem that we'd better be dealing with a'fore we let ye out of them ropes."

Sebastian waited, puzzled by the man's suddenly serious tone. Then he saw the ship's barber-and-surgeon, holding a pair of scissors. The First Mate began talking at about the same time that Sebastian began to realise the purpose of the scissors.

"Ye see, lad, there be this little problem on all sailing ships. It be lice, and though I hate to deprive ye of such a magnificent golden crown, if we let ye keep it, ye'll go mad with the itching of a night when ye're trying to sleep!"

Sebastian felt crushed. They wanted to cut his hair off! His beautiful hair. But at the same time, the truth of the First Mate's words penetrated his understanding. After what seemed to Sebastian like endless moments of grief, he muffled out "do it" past the ball of rope in his mouth, then lowered his head and waited.

The First Mate muttered apologies and some attempts at comfort to Sebastian, but all Sebastian could hear was the snipping of the scissors and all he could see were his locks of yellow-gold hair, his pride and joy, falling to the deck as the barber practically sheared him bald. For the first time, he wept a little.

After it was done, the men untied Sebastian and brought him his clothes. As Sebastian sadly raised his head from the sight of his locks of hair scattered around him on the deck, one of the men held out something to Sebastian, who looked at it in surprise.

It was a lock of Sebastian's hair, the cut ends woven and spliced into the ends of a loop of thin rope, then secured with string to ensure the splice would not come loose. The sailor hung it around his neck. "So that you may keep some of the boy you once were, with the man you now are." There were cheers from the crew and, somehow, Sebastian felt comforted.

He was now a real sailor.

A tale of a young slave boy who is a talented entertainer, in more than one area.

3250 words (6½ pages)
Caleb (young boy)
Mb – slave anal

This story was inspired by 'The Duke's Piper' by branbardling.

Caleb had been summoned. He grabbed the golden pipe from its stand and strode quickly to his master's chambers, feeling the familiar twitching in his groin in anticipation of what he was sure would follow his performance.

When he had been taken as a slave over two years ago, he had never guessed where that new life would take him. All had seemed lost, then. His life had seemed to end. But it had turned out better than he could have dreamed.

Caleb had caught the eye of the duke right away, and had been claimed by him as a goodly part of the duke's share of the loot. Caleb was only vaguely aware of what his duties as the duke's slave might be, but a life as a poor peasant boy allowed him to learn many things unknown to wealthier folk and that included an understanding of what some men liked to do to young boys.

Caleb had so far managed to survive without having to resort to allowing men to have their way with him. How much longer he would have lasted is anyone's guess. Life for the very poor was harsh and unforgiving where Caleb had lived.

Caleb's duties as the duke's slave were soon made clear to him.

He had been stripped and made to take warm water up his rectum, then expel it into a commode. He had cried, but he had been too afraid to resist. He was also smart enough to realise that resistance would probably have brought swift and painful punishment, so he complied even though he hated the experience. Four times in a row this was done to him, until the liquid flowed clear when he passed it.

Then, he was taken to a bathroom and bathed carefully in warm, scented water. His attendants, all eunuchs, scrubbed him with sponges and washed his hair. This part of the preparations was the only part which Caleb actually enjoyed.

After, he had been chained. The manacles around his wrists were connected by short chains to the collar around his neck, making it impossible for Caleb to lower his hands any further than his chest. His feet were manacled together by a chain short enough to force Caleb to walk slowly or risk a fall. His only comfort was the leather padding on the inside of both the collar and the manacles to prevent them chafing.

The now thoroughly frightened boy had been brought to the duke's chambers just like that, naked apart from his chains and the tears now running down his cheeks as he anticipated the horrors to which he would no doubt have to submit.

And the reality had been so unexpectedly different from his fears.

Caleb was told to sit on the bed and wait. He wasn't foolish enough to try to escape, so he complied and simply wept as he waited. He knew the room would be guarded, and he could see bars outside the windows. They were actually to prevent an assassin from entering, but they also served the purpose of preventing anyone from leaving by the window, including the helpless boy.

Then, the duke entered the room, wearing a bath-robe. Caleb heard him and raised his tear-stained face to the noise, trembling violently in his terror. He expected to be immediately taken and raped by this huge man. How could he possibly survive that? He had heard of boys who had died after such treatment.

The duke approached and Caleb cringed, shutting his eyes and clenching his hands into fists as he waited for the brutality which must surely follow. Then a hand was laid against one of his cheeks, gently.

"Look at me." The voice was deep but gentle; strangely accented, but understandable. Caleb dared to open his tear-filled eyes a little, still shaking in fear as he looked into his new master's eyes for the first time.

"To my enemies, I am ruthless. To those who would oppose me, I am cruel." Still the voice was gentle and Caleb, in spite of his terror, wondered how such a huge, rough man could speak so gently. The duke continued, "You are not my enemy. You are my slave. Do not oppose me and I have no need to be cruel. When I enter these rooms, I wish to leave 'ruthless' outside the door, with 'cruel' to keep it company. Do not give me cause to bring them in here, and I will not."

The duke cupped the weeping boy's face in his huge paw and continued, "In here, I wish to bring with me 'tender', with 'gentle' to keep it company. What I will do to you in here must needs involve some pain, but do as I say and I will ease it as much as is possible."

Caleb's mind was in a whirl of confusion as the duke climbed onto the bed and took hold of the boy around the waist, hoisting him onto the bed and lowering the boy to a kneeling position, then bending him over onto his hands and knees. Caleb glanced over his shoulder in bewilderment. Was this really the duke? The duke's reputation for both ruthlessness and cruelty was almost legendary, yet he had bothered to speak such words to a lowly slave who he was about to rape.

The duke began to rub oil over Caleb's bare bottom and anus, concentrating especially on the latter. "You must be loosened up, boy, or my cock will tear you apart inside. This will take time. Fortunately, we have plenty of that commodity."

A large finger suddenly penetrated him, and Caleb cried out in sudden pain at the unexpected and unwanted entry of his person. He automatically tried to move forward, to escape the probing finger, but the duke's hand simply followed him, followed by the other hand going around his legs to pull him back again. "Do not move away, boy. The pain you feel now is vastly less than you would feel if I plunged my manhood into you without this preparation." The probing finger continued its work.

Despite his pain, Caleb realised that the duke was probably right. Caleb didn't want this but more, he didn't want it to hurt. The pain he was feeling already seemed too much to bear and this was only from the duke's finger!. He dared not imagine the level of agony he would feel if the duke decided to suddenly plunge his cock in there instead. Moaning in pain, Caleb tried to brace his upper body against the bed so that he would not be pushed forward. With gritted teeth and whimpers, Caleb endured the pain. "Sensible, boy," came the duke's approving voice.

Gradually Caleb's whimpers faded as, unexpectedly, the agony from his anus also faded. Then the duke pressed a second oiled finger into Caleb and a fresh wave of agony wracked the young boy's body, causing him to cry out again.

That was the routine for over half an hour. The duke would continually move his huge fingers around inside Caleb's painfully stretched anus and rectum, patiently waiting until the boy relaxed and the pain faded, then another finger would be added and the pain would be renewed. Eventually, the duke's thumb joined all four of his fingers in probing inside Caleb's widely stretched rear.

Then, the duke spread more oil over his hand and began pushing it further into the suffering boy's hole; not all the way but far enough. Caleb, nearly exhausted from the almost constant pain, could only whimper while earnestly wishing the process to be finished and done with. Slowly, the agony in Caleb's rear from the duke's reaming hand faded until it became bearable again.

The fingers left his anus, and Caleb felt unexpectedly empty. There was a rustle as the bath robe dropped to the floor. Caleb did not dare to turn; to look at what he knew must be exposed; the weapon which was about to spear him in the most intimate place. He felt something brush against his anus, then more warm oil was dribbled onto his rosebud, waiting for its ravishment.

The duke's hands gripped Caleb's shoulders. Then, there was pressure at Caleb's rear.

For a moment, the pressure was light and the duke's voice rumbled, "it's time, boy. Now you become mine, in truth." The pressure rapidly increased.

Caleb howled in pain and shock although the pain was far less than he'd expected. His master's penis slid partway inside Caleb and then paused. "Take it, boy. I'll give you a moment, but you must take it all," came the rumbling voice.

The pain again slowly faded before the duke, without warning, pushed firmly and steadily causing his erect member to slide deeply into Caleb's rectum. Caleb was about to scream when the pain was suddenly almost overwhelmed by the most unexpected and intense rush of pure pleasure that Caleb had ever experienced.

His involuntary gasping moan in response to the pleasure was immediately noticed and recognised for what it was by Caleb's master. The huge man leaned down a little, allowing his cock to slide partway out of Caleb's rear. "You are discovering one of the joys of being the duke's Favorite, little slave," came that deep voice again.

A second time the duke's penis was thrust into its home in Caleb's rectum and again Caleb experienced that sublime sweetness rushing through his body from the region just behind his own tiny cock. His pain all but forgotten, Caleb could hardly believe how wonderful that feeling was. And it was coming from something he had been so deathly afraid of!

The duke slowly began a rhythmic thrusting, pounding his cock deeply into Caleb over and over and causing that same feeling to wash through the boy's body with every thrust. Caleb still could not believe how wonderful it felt. And he had actually feared this! His previous agony suddenly seemed a small thing compared to his present ecstasy.

On and on and still on went the pleasure, and Caleb suddenly felt his body convulse in orgasm, his small, erect cock spitting a few drops of liquid onto the bed below. Still the pounding went on and the pleasure continued.

Twice more Caleb's body responded with an ecstatic orgasm before, finally, he felt the duke thrust hard and deeply while a warmth entered Caleb's rectum as the duke finally expelled his seed deep inside the boy's receptive body.

Slowly, the duke withdrew his softening organ from Caleb's rear, then lay beside Caleb on the bed, drawing the boy to him and holding their bodies together. One huge hand gently stroked Caleb's thighs and the boy realised, with wonder at himself, that he was no longer scared of this man.

He had enjoyed it. Caleb felt shocked at the realisation. It was true. In spite of all the pain involved, the pleasure had been so immense that Caleb could truly say that it had been worth it. Caleb's fears had melted away, never to return. With the loss of fear came a different and more immediate concern.

"Master?" asked Caleb timidly, hoping that he wasn't over-stepping a boundary.

"Speak, boy. In here, you may ask what you will, without fear. Ask for anything but your freedom, for that I certainly will not grant, and will punish you for the asking, but all else is permitted to ask. I may not grant your request, but neither will I punish you. Speak."

"M-may I have something to eat, master? I'm hungry. And thirsty."

The duke sat up suddenly, speaking in his own tongue. It sounded like a curse and Caleb cringed for a moment, but the duke's next words reassured him. "Didn't they feed you? I told them to feed you first!"

"They gave me a small loaf and some cheese, master," Caleb answered, honestly.

A snort. "That is hardly enough for a growing boy!" Then, in an amused tone, "And you will need all your strength if you are to keep up with me in the bedroom, boy." The duke sprang to his feet with an alacrity which belied his size, donned the bath robe and strode to the door. Opening it, he called a name in his own tongue. A eunuch appeared and orders were given.

In a surprisingly short time, a small table was set beside the bed near Caleb with covered plates and dishes waiting. Caleb's hands were released from the shackles and the covers were removed from the plates. Caleb gasped. Meat and fruit in abundance along with jugs of cordial lay before him. It was a feast such as his eyes had never beheld!

"Eat it all, boy. No Favorite of mine ever went hungry." Caleb, his eyes wide with wonder, for a moment could hardly decide what to eat first. Then he grabbed at the food and began to supply his undernourished body with what it needed. The duke's voice came, warningly, "Eat more slowly, boy, or you'll become sick. It will not be taken from you before you're done." In spite of his hunger, Caleb obeyed.

Then Caleb began to cry again, but this time, not from any distress. In response, the duke stroked the boy's bare back once, and that was all. It was enough.

That night, Caleb slept with the duke for the first time in his life. He also slept with a full stomach for the first time in his life. Another first was the warm blankets and the soft bed. In spite of what had been done to him, Caleb felt safe. Life suddenly seemed worthwhile to the young slave.

***

Caleb hurried along the passages of the palace, the golden pipe clutched in his hand, remembering that day and reflecting on how much had changed because of it.

It was true that he must always take care in preparing himself, so that his beauty be always at its best for his master; and it was true that the minuscule skirt with the thin underclothing, which was the only clothing he was permitted, rather than hiding his cock, instead placed it on prominent display for anyone's viewing.

But apart from these small drawbacks, Caleb thought that life was good. He hadn't even minded when the hole had been made through his frenulum for the insertion of a small, gold ring. The pain was quite bearable and lasted only briefly, and he had to admit the ring was decorative.

Caleb was no longer the scrawny, undernourished waif of two years ago. He could have as much good food as he wanted, whenever he wanted it. But he remembered and the memory allowed him to better appreciate the food now.

On the few occasions when Caleb slept alone, he now had his own room with a soft bed and warm blankets. As a poor peasant child, his clothing had been ragged and thin and he had often been unable to sleep at night during the winter because of the cold, while his bed had mostly been the bare earth.

The chains which had at first bound him had long been discarded as unnecessary; Caleb no longer even dreamed of leaving his master. The chains and collar had been replaced with gold bands around his neck and wrists; not to bind him but to decorate him and to show his high status. Along with the gold rings on his fingers, Caleb now wore a noble's ransom in gold.

Caleb entered the walled garden and stepped under the verandah over the patio where his master sat in a comfortable chair beside the outside door to his bedroom. Caleb held the pipe in front of his chest as he approached, then bowed respectfully to his now much-loved master.

"You summoned me, sire?" It was a polite pleasantry, almost unnecessary between them now but kept for convenience.

"Sit, Loved One. Sit on that wall and play something for me." The duke indicated the low, broad stone wall which ran around the patio with columns which projected up to the verandah roof from the wall at intervals around the patio's perimeter. Caleb could not remember exactly when the title of Favorite had been replaced with Loved One.

Caleb sat on the wall near a vine-entwined column and raised the pipe to his mouth. His master had not specified a particular tune, and the protocol they had adopted meant that Caleb could decide for himself what to play.

Four sweet notes from the pipe introduced a variation on a melody which he knew was a particular favorite of his master. Caleb had taken the melody and changed it; massaged it; manipulated it until he thought it was the sweetest and most plaintive melody he had ever heard. He played it now, for his master and for himself.

His lessons with the pipe had begun very soon after his first night with the duke, for his master wanted his Favorite to be more than a mere catamite. Caleb soon found that he loved the simple instrument and had a natural talent for it. He advanced in the art of piping at a pace which astounded and rapidly overtook his tutors. His skill with the pipe was, he had heard said, unmatched by anyone in the land. Caleb was proud of his skill, but it mattered more to him that he himself should enjoy it – and his master.

As Caleb came to the closing passages of the melody, he thought of this man before him, who he loved so much and who gave every evidence of loving him. He thought of the things they did together most nights, and played his best. The melody was seductive, joyful and wanton, all at the same time. It expressed Caleb's deepest feelings for his master, in the best way he knew how. Caleb looked into his master's eyes as he played, and saw there that his own devotion was reflected back as admiration.

Caleb could feel his cock stirring as his music spoke of his joy in the things his master did to him; his desire to be in his master's arms; to share his bed and to feel his warm embrace.

By the time Caleb's pipe fell silent, the final, plaintive note hanging in the garden air for an endless moment, his cock was as stiff as it could become. Caleb paused a moment to look at his master – a blatantly lustful look – before he lowered the pipe and waited.

For long moments, there was only silence. Caleb waited patiently, his patience aided by the spellbound look on his master's face. At long last, the duke spoke.

"Any words of praise I could utter would be inadequate. That was beyond mere beauty and quite beyond any praise a mere mortal could speak." Caleb blushed with pride, but his straining cock bore witness that his mind was on what he hoped was to follow. His master stood up.

"Come." A single word, and Caleb rose and followed his master into the bedroom, his heart singing with joy because he knew what was to come. The duke did not disappoint him.

The next day the duke signed an order, in Caleb's presence, stating that the boy was to be granted his freedom, plus thirty talents of silver and the gold pipe, at any time the boy wished.

Caleb did not take up the offer. He knew that here, he was loved.

A babysitter discovers that the little boy he's caring for is eager to comply with an idle suggestion of tying him up – and with a lot more.

2750 words (5½ pages)
Johnny (7yo) and his babysitter (adult)
Mb – cons mast – bond

I had been baby-sitting little Johnny for only a few weeks. The seven-year-old was a lively and often annoying tyke but I managed to handle him well. Better, I'd discovered, than any other baby-sitter before me.

I attribute my success and the failure of previous baby-sitters to the fact that I paid almost constant attention to Johnny, playing with him and telling him stories as well as the usual routine of bathing him and putting him to bed.

After he discovered that he didn't need to be naughty in order to get my attention, Johnny calmed down a lot but he was still a lively little boy and he required a lot of work to keep entertained.

Our 'special' games began one day when he had been unusually annoying, leading to me playfully wrestling him to the ground (hardly a challenge, considering our age difference) and holding his hands above his head while 'punishing' him by pushing his tee-shirt up and tickling him under his arms and on his tummy while he squealed in mixed protest and delight.

While I allowed him a break from the tickle-punishment to recover his breath, I casually said, "What do I have to do to keep you out of mischief? Tie you up?" I was still holding him down with his hands above his head.

Johnny went quiet and that intense 'thinking look' of his appeared on his little face. I was suddenly a bit worried. What if he wanted to tie up the baby-sitter (me)? I'd have to refuse him, since I was the adult and had to stay in control, then Johnny might be whiny and more difficult to handle if he didn't get what he wanted.

"You wouldn't," said Johnny, with some confidence.

"Maybe," I replied. "But maybe I would. I especially would if you think it would be fun."

Again, the 'thinking look' appeared on Johnny's face, then, "Do it!"

I was a little perplexed, as I'd not expected to have to follow through on my 'threat'.

"I'd need rope," I said. "But I don't have any." Maybe this was a way out of my rather awkward dilemma. I actually wanted to see this cute little boy helplessly tied up, but I was also nervous of doing so as I wasn't sure what his parents would say if they found out.

Johnny once again got that 'thinking look', then blushed. For a moment he hesitated, then, "I've got rope." Shyly.

This, I thought to myself, is a very interesting revelation.

"Where?" I asked. "In my room," he almost whispered.

I let go of Johnny and stood up. Temptation had not just been laid at my door; it had knocked, with a battering ram, and had stormed the keep in force. I was now fighting a losing battle. "Show me," I said.

Johnny padded his barefoot way to his room with me following, wherein he pulled a cardboard box out from under his bed and pulled out some toys, revealing some lengths of rope coiled up a little untidily in the bottom. I took them out and examined them. They seemed suitable to me. Temptation had won the battle.

"These look right to me," I said. Then I thought a moment, looking at Johnny. I'd seen him naked before, every time I'd given him a bath, but the idea of seeing his cute little body tied up and unclothed was even more appealing. Still I hesitated at the idea. Better to start off with something at least halfway-innocent, I decided.

I made the excuse, "I'd better get this off you so I can tie you better," as I pulled his tee-shirt off over his head, leaving his chest bare. Then, before I could do or say anything, Johnny eagerly pulled his shorts and underpants down and stepped out of them. Johnny was now naked, and it wasn't even bath time. He stood in front of me, panting with excitement, his look anticipatory. By this time, temptation had not only defeated me but taken me helpless prisoner.

"Okay, you're my prisoner and I'm going to tie you up!" I mock-threatened. Johnny just wriggled and smiled shyly. I pulled him to me and turned him around, moving his hands behind his back. Then I pulled his hands up between his shoulder-blades, making him bend his arms, and began to tie his wrists that way.

I tied Johnny's unresisting arms together at the wrists and firmly to his back with the rope going around his small chest a few times. He could barely move his arms at all once I'd finished, but his eyes shone with excitement. I glanced down at Johnny's penis. It was still limp but even so, it was obvious that he was enjoying this game.

I lifted Johnny onto the bed and put him face down, then crossed his legs at the ankles and tied them like that. He could not uncross his legs now and so couldn't walk. Still he lay passively motionless and allowed me to bind him securely.

Finally, I used a rope to tie Johnny's legs to his arms in a modified hog-tie. He would now find it difficult to move at all. I turned him over and the delighted look on his face almost shocked me. I was surprised at how eager he was to play this game, but of course, he trusted me because I had always been gentle with him as well as giving him the attention he wanted so badly.

I sat on the bed near his feet and watched Johnny for a minute while he slowly wriggled and squirmed, testing the security of his bondage. I could see him gradually trying harder and harder, wriggling and squirming every way he could in order to try to find a way to escape the ropes holding him helplessly bound and naked.

After an especially vigorous bout of struggling, during which Johnny didn't even manage to turn himself over (although he'd tried to), he stopped to rest, breathing hard.

"Any luck?" I asked him, knowing the answer but wanting him to say it anyway. He shook his head and resumed his struggles, even more vigorously.

Finally, Johnny stopped struggling and lay, panting, on the bed. "I can't get untied," he announced, sounding a bit surprised. Perhaps he'd expected me to deliberately tie him loosely so he could escape.

I leaned closer to him. "I think that's the general idea," I said, with gentle sarcasm. "If you could get yourself untied, what would be the point of tying you up?" Johnny got that 'thoughtful look' on his face again and just lay there on the bed for a while, resting.

I sat there and looked at my little prisoner, admiring his cute little penis with its delightful little ballsack as well as his smooth chest with its tiny nipples. I loved to look at Johnny when giving him his nightly bath and now I could look all I wanted, without having to distract myself with the bathing duties. He was a gorgeous little boy and I felt an immense amount of affection for him as I unashamedly stared at him.

As I looked at naked little Johnny I wondered, how far could I go? Almost immediately, the answer came to me. I could go as far as Johnny wanted me to. Exactly that far, and no further. Perhaps even a little less far than he wanted, since he was only a little boy and couldn't fully appreciate the possible dangers of some things he wanted. But most of the things he wanted were probably harmless. Socially unacceptable, but harmless.

"Are you going to untie me?" My reverie was interrupted by Johnny's piping voice.

"Not yet," I answered.

"But I want to be untied!" he protested.

I leaned in close to him. "You're the one who wanted to be tied up, and when you let someone else tie you up, you have to wait to be untied. What's the good of being tied up if you can get untied any time you want? You might as well not be tied at all!"

The 'thinking look' again, but with worry behind it. Almost tears.

"I'll let you go if you really need it. Like when it's time for your bath," I said. "But there's no point in tying you up if you're just going to be untied right away. Don't worry," I added, seeing that he was about to cry, "I can make it fun for you."

"How?" A catch in his voice. He was still inclined to be tearful but holding it back.

I grinned. "Just wait a few minutes and I'll be right back to show you." I darted out of the room and hurried to get the baby oil from the bathroom. A perfectly naughty but fun idea had entered my head. I was certain Johnny would love this.

I grabbed a towel also while I was in the bathroom and returned to Johnny's bedroom fully equipped to entertain my young prisoner for the rest of the evening, at least until bath time.

Johnny looked curiously at me as I folded the towel. I put one hand between his legs and, cupping his small bottom in my hand, lifted him so I could slip the folded towel underneath him to catch any of the oil which might drip, then I gently lowered him onto the towel.

I put a little of the baby oil on my fingers and reached between his legs again, aiming for his anus. I'd noticed that every time I bathed Johnny and washed that particular part of his body, he quickly developed a lovely little erection. He also seemed to enjoy it every time I washed his erect penis. I was going to find out if it had been coincidence or if, as I suspected, he truly found such activity erotic.

Johnny inhaled sharply, once as my oiled finger came in contact with his little rosebud and again as I began to firmly rub my finger up and down directly on it. His immature penis responded almost immediately, rapidly stiffening into a tiny but obvious erection. So, it wasn't a coincidence; Johnny really did find anal stimulation erotic.

I used a little more oil and switched hands, moving to a new position where I could stimulate both his anus and his penis. I dripped a little oil on the glans of his erect penis and then began to slowly rub it. Johnny gasped and put his head back, closing his eyes so he could concentrate on the pleasure I was giving him.

I suddenly stopped and Johnny's eyes opened, looking at me in protest at the sudden removal of the erotic bliss he had been luxuriating in.

"Like it?" I asked. Johnny nodded. "Yeah. Do it more." I resumed my work on both his anus and his penis, slowly and surely building up his sexual excitement.

Knowing the response of boy-flesh intimately (I had been one, after all and remembered it well), I knew that a slow masturbation would make it impossible for little Johnny to climax but would bring him so close that he would soon be begging and possibly even crying for me to finish the job.

As slowly as I could manage, I built up my young captive's sexual excitement. But what may seem slow to a little boy is not always slow to an adult. It's been said that boys have exactly two speeds, which are 'all stop' (asleep) and 'all engines full ahead' (awake). Johnny was very much awake and was advancing at his best possible speed toward the peak of sexual excitement, in spite of everything I did to try to slow his progress.

But male flesh is still male flesh, no matter how young and eager. In spite of his rapid progress, Johnny was at the mercy of my manipulating hands. I carefully kept my pace slow, so that Johnny could go only so far, and no further.

After a few minutes of my frustratingly slow pace, Johnny said, "Faster."

"Why?" I asked. I pulled his foreskin all the way back and very slowly rubbed his glans with the whole length of my enclosing hand, making Johnny buck in the ropes.

Johnny instinctively began to try to thrust into my hand, but his bondage kept him from moving very far and what little movement he had, I simply compensated for by allowing my hands to move along with him while still keeping up that maddeningly slow masturbation.

"Fa-aster!" demanded Johnny, again, in a moan.

"I like doing it slow," I said. "You look so funny, wiggling around like that. I'm going to stick to 'slow'." Suiting action to words, I kept up that slow, steady pace, watching as Johnny desperately tried everything he could to get the release he instinctively knew his little body wanted.

"Please! Do it faster!" Johnny almost shouted, with a sob in his voice.

I chuckled. It was time to take advantage of his helplessness. "Do you promise to be a good little boy for the rest of the evening?"

"YES!" Shouted Johnny.

"And do you promise to go to bed when I tell you to, without making a fuss?"

"Ye-e-e-s!" Sobbed the sexually frustrated child.

"And do you promise to settle down and go to sleep right away and not bother me?"

"Yes! Yes! Please! Faster!" Johnny begged me, practically crying with the frustration of being kept on the edge of orgasm for so long.

Really, it hadn't been very long at all but I guessed that to Johnny, it must seem like he'd been waiting ages for that wonderful release his body was now demanding. I chuckled again.

"All right, here we go!" I quickened my pace. Just as I'd deliberately been preventing Johnny from climaxing, now I deliberately began to try to cause him to climax.

Johnny was already so close that it only took seconds before he began to jerk and gasp in orgasmic pleasure. There was no emission, but he obviously enjoyed it immensely.

I continued to rapidly pump Johnny's erect penis while massaging his anus and was rewarded by seeing his first orgasm overlaid by a second, even more intense climax, then I slowed my pace and stopped, allowing Johnny to come down gently from his orgasms.

While Johnny lay on his bed, breathing hard as he recovered from the mind-boggling pleasure, I began to untie him. He simply lay there as I untied the hog-tie rope and his ankles then turned him over to untie his hands. After he was untied and I turned him over again, he still simply lay there for a minute, looking at me with an expression I'd never seen on his face before. Was that expression love? If not, it was a good approximation.

Finally, Johnny spoke. "Can you do that again?" I would have been astonished if I hadn't already remembered reading somewhere that little boys could have (and want) multiple orgasms.

"What? Now?" I asked, rhetorically. "I think not. Another time, yes, but" (I looked at my watch to confirm) "it's time for your bath, now."

Johnny had his usual bath and, in spite of his recent orgasm, his penis responded in the usual way to my normal washing of his anatomy.

After, I put him to bed. He was inclined to whine about it at first, until I reminded him of his promise and threatened to never do that 'nice thing' to him again if he didn't keep it. He immediately settled down to sleep like the most well-behaved little boy anyone could ask for.

***

Johnny never wanted anyone else to baby-sit for him after that day, and all that I needed to do to keep him in line was to threaten to skip his 'Happy Time'. I almost followed through on that threat once only. It was enough for him to get the point.

Around three years later, I gained the considerable honour of causing Johnny to have his first 'wet' climax, by which time I dare say that Johnny had been tied by me in every possible position consistent with his health and safety and which would allow me the proper access to his body. But his favorite position was always the one in which I had first tied him, which is probably understandable.

His family moved away when Johnny was around twelve and he cried when he knew he had to leave me behind. I still remember Johnny with love, and wonder where he is now.

Ryan in the Machine

A young boy gets the chance to indulge his desire for both bondage and mild humiliation in a safe and realistic way.

2000 words (4 pages)
Ryan
Mb – nosex – humil

My intention was to make this story as realistic as possible. I believe that in many parts of the world a sideshow attraction exactly as I've described could be legally used, even using young (around 11yo) boys so long as they had parental permission as I've depicted in the story.

Ryan couldn't believe he was going to be allowed do this. He could barely believe that his parents were allowing him to do this. Ryan listened in fascination as the Headmaster described the side-show attraction for the charity fund-raiser, to both Ryan and his father.

"There will be three machines, operating on a round-robin so that at least two will be in operation all the time with one boy in each machine. The object is simple: The boy is subjected to regular mild humiliation for the amusement of the patrons."

"Humiliation?" inquired Ryan's father. "Isn't that rather – barbaric?"

"No more so and probably substantially less than many of the tricks boys play upon each other. Besides, each boy is enclosed safely within the machine so no one can physically assault him.

"And in case something goes wrong – not that there is much which can go wrong – each boy has an emergency shutdown switch within easy reach so that he can instantly stop the machine to keep himself safe. Setting off the shutdown also causes an alarm to sound so that the attendants can help him without delay. All of them know first-aid of course, just in case."

"Just how far does this humiliation go?" asked Ryan's father.

"It's quite simple. The boy wears only a pair of boxer shorts with an elastic waist. He is strapped into the machine with his buttocks area directly in front of a clear plastic window 3;"

"Wait a minute," interrupted Ryan's father. "Strapped in?"

"Of course. He must remain still so that his buttocks can be viewed through the window. Also it makes the game more exciting, for both the boy and for the patrons, knowing that he's restrained and unable to move. Don't worry. Like I said, there's an emergency shutdown within easy reach of the boy's fingers at all times."

"Well," mused Ryan's father doubtfully, "I guess that's not so bad 3;"

"To continue," said the Headmaster, "four clips connected to cords are then attached to the boy's shorts: Two on each side of the waistband at both the front and the back. When a patron manages to hit the bullseye on the small target, or manages to hit the outer ring of the target twice in a row, the machine activates."

"And does what, precisely," inquired Ryan's father.

"Why, it pulls his shorts down, of course, using the cords clipped to the boy's shorts, then it pulls them right back up again ready for the next shot. The whole process takes about two seconds. This is accompanied by the 'wolf-whistle' going off, making the traditional two-tone whistling noise. The patrons get an amusing and mildly titillating glimpse of a boy's bare bottom while the boy himself gets the adventure of being helplessly bound and forcibly stripped while at the same time knowing that there is no genuine danger. The only danger is his own lack of courage should he back out."

Ryan's father took a moment to think.

"Well, so long as Ryan wants to do it 3;"

***

Ryan still couldn't believe that he was being allowed to do this. He entered the participant's area of the temporary building at the rear of the attraction, holding his permission form in one hand. An attendant, one of the older boys from his school, quickly spotted him and came over.

"Hi, you're going in the machines? You're brave. I'm not sure I could do it. Here, give me your form. This changing room is free. Here's your shorts. Now don't forget to strip completely before putting them on; the patrons are paying to see your bare bottom, not your underpants." With that, the boy closed the door leaving Ryan alone in the small but well-lit changing-room.

His heart beating fast, Ryan stripped and pulled on the roomy boxer shorts. The elastic waist was just barely tight enough to keep them up. Ryan opened the door of the changing room and the same attendant immediately came over to him.

"Ready? Good. Your turn will come up in about five minutes. This way. Wait in here. Someone will come tell you when it's your turn. I saw on your form you're down for the maximum of three hours. Don't worry, you only have to do thirty minutes at a time then you get a break for fifteen minutes before you have to do it again." Then the boy was gone and Ryan looked around the small waiting room.

There was another young boy around Ryan's age already sitting on a bench in the room and he smiled at Ryan as he came in. Ryan didn't recognise him and decided he must be from another school. "Hi," greeted the boy. "I'm Mike."

Ryan introduced himself and sat down on the bench next to Mike, then Mike asked, "Your first time in the machine?" Ryan could only nod and swallow nervously.

"I've been in twice so far," said Mike, with some pride. "It's scary at first, 'cos you can't move and you know everyone can see your bum every time they score a hit, but you get used to it after a while." Mike leaned closer to Ryan and whispered, conspiratorially, "And it's fun. I've gotten a stiffie each time I've been in the machine so far! I can't wait to go again!" He grinned at Ryan.

Ryan thought about that for a minute before asking, "But what happens if the shorts catch on it when the machine 3;" he gulped, nervously " 3;pulls your shorts down?"

Mike stood up and pulled at the elastic waistband of his shorts, tugging it open a huge distance. "Look." He moved his fingers around the waistband, demonstrating just how far the elastic would easily stretch, then he sat down again.

"Don't worry, it won't catch your stiffie. The clips pull the waist so far open before they pull your shorts down that there's no chance of it catching. The most I've felt is the breeze as it passes by." Mike giggled.

With such reassurances and some idle conversation, the minutes passed quickly and Ryan felt much better by the time another attendant, an older boy Ryan didn't recognise, entered with a grinning young boy Ryan recognised from his school, wearing another pair of the rugged boxer shorts. Ryan had no time for greetings however, as his turn had come up. "I'm up soon, in another machine in five minutes," said Mike, as Ryan was led away. "I hope you have fun. I will!"

Ryan and his attendant approached the machine's access door from one side, where a curtain hid both them and the machine from the patrons. This was intentional, so that none of the patrons could be sure who was actually in any particular machine at any moment.

This anonymity prevented any of the patrons from hurling personal insults at the participants and in this way the game was kept fun and not hurtful.

Ryan looked at the padded restraints in the machine curiously, but he didn't have much chance for observation as his attendant quickly moved Ryan into position.

Ryan lay leaning a little forward against the padding as his hands were stretched apart above his head so his wrists could be strapped to the frame. A belt was done up around his waist, then more straps were done up around his ankles, keeping his legs slightly separated.

Ryan wriggled a little, discovering that the restraints held him very securely but at the same time were quite comfortable. As Ryan tested his bonds, the attendant reached down and, one at a time, attached the four clips to selected points around the waistband of Ryan's shorts, then he stood up and leaned close to Ryan's face.

"Okay?" asked Ryan's attendant, in a whisper. "Not too tight? No pain? Good," responding to Ryan's reassurances that he was okay. "Now, I'm going to tell you a secret." Ryan looked at him, puzzled.

The attendant moved the thumb of Ryan's right hand gently until Ryan could feel a depression in the frame.

"This is the emergency switch," whispered the attendant. "You'll have been told about that of course. One push of that switch and the whole machine shuts down – instantly. It's in case something goes really wrong. If you feel bad pain or feel sick, like you're going to vomit, or anything really serious like that, you push that button and we'll be here to help you as quick as we can. But here's the secret 3;"

The attendant moved the thumb of Ryan's left hand until Ryan could feel an identical indentation in the frame on that side.

"This is what we call the 'Chicken Switch'," whispered the attendant. "It's a secret. Only boys who go in the machines know it exists. Don't talk about it to anyone. It's there in case you just plain get scared and can't take it any more. Press the button and the machine shuts down just like it was the end of your time in the machine, then one of us will come to let you out. Of course the challenge is to never use it. You should try to stay in the machine for the whole time if you can. Are you ready to begin?"

Ryan nodded, not trusting himself to speak. "Good luck and have fun," whispered the attendant, closing the door and leaving Ryan trapped, helplessly bound in the clutches of The Machine.

There was a short delay, then a bell rang and Ryan realised from the sounds and the increase in light level that the curtain had been withdrawn. He knew that his boxer-shorts-clad bottom could now be seen through the clear plastic window in the machine, although the rest of his body was shielded from view by the translucent white plastic which made the rest of the front panel of the machine.

There were cheers from the crowd and within moments, Ryan heard the sounds of the tennis balls bouncing off the machine as they missed the small target on the side.

How long? How long until someone scored a hit and triggered the machine, wondered Ryan. How long did he have to wait until someone caused the machine to pull his shorts down, forcing him to expose his bare bottom for the amusement of the patrons of the attraction?

Ryan didn't have to wait long. In less than a minute, there was a 'ding-ding' from the bell announcing a bullseye on the target. Ryan barely had time to begin to draw breath before the cords clipped to his shorts were pulled on, dragging the waistband of the shorts widely open and away from Ryan's body, then they zipped downwards, yanking his shorts right down past his knees while a whistle sounded – 'wheeeet'.

For a long moment, the machine seemed to pause to allow Ryan's bare bottom to be ogled by the cheering crowd, then it pulled Ryan's shorts back up, sounding the other whistle – 'whoooo' – and the cords loosened, allowing the waistband of the shorts to settle back into position ready for the next shot.

Over and over this happened, as one patron after another scored either a bullseye or two hits in succession on the outer target ring. Ryan could still hardly believe this was actually happening. He occasionally wriggled against his bonds, finding them just as secure as ever each time.

Shortly into the session, Ryan realised that his penis was completely erect. In response to this realisation, Ryan laid his head against the padding on the frame and simply enjoyed his feelings of helplessness and exposure. This was life, to its fullest!

It was a joyful and no longer nervous small boy who was, very much to his disappointment, released from the machine after his thirty minutes were up.

As Ryan sat in the waiting room during his break, another small boy wearing only boxer shorts was brought into the room by an attendant. He looked nervous. Ryan introduced himself, then asked the question:

"Your first time in The Machine? Don't worry, it's fun!"

The Prison Specials

In an alternate universe where delinquent boys can find themselves sold into slavery to pay for their crimes, a fortunate few are offered an alternative which is only slightly less severe

500 words (1 page)
Mike and Sam, two young boys
Mb – sex implied – humil

This story was inspired by a 3D rendered picture on a different forum.

The two little boys stood, fidgeting nervously as they waited.

"I told y' we'd get caught," grumbled Mike, to his dark-haired slightly older companion.

"You already said that, about a hundred times, and I already said I'm sorry," replied Samuel, to his little blonde friend, sounding only slightly annoyed.

Mike sounded almost tearful as he complained, "Now we gotta put up with some dirty perve sticking his dick up our bums and in our mouths until we turn at least fourteen! And maybe even until we turn eighteen!"

"C'mon, you know most of the perves aren't like that," answered Samuel, trying to comfort Mike. "Most of them would rather suck and play with your little winkie. And anyway, the law won't let him harm us, even in here. He has to at least give us a week or two of stretching before he fucks us."

"With plugs, which hurt," complained Mike.

"At first," agreed Samuel. But they don't keep hurting so bad forever. That's the whole idea of stretching. Anyway, would you rather we were sold as slaves? You know what would have happened to us then!"

Mike shuddered. "Yeah. They don't get any protection. Their masters can just fuck 'em any time, even if it kills 'em."

There were a few minutes of silence, then Mike spoke again.

"But we gotta be naked the whole time we're here. I don't wanna be naked and have everyone staring at me!" He looked down at his own naked body, then at his equally naked friend. "Do you?"

"No, but we have no choice. We agreed to be 'Specials' instead of real slaves and being naked the whole time is just part of being a Special," replied Samuel. "Anyway, I guess we'll get used to it after a while. We were lucky there was an opening for Specials."

"I don't wanna get used to it an' I don't feel lucky," mumbled Mike as a distant jingling of keys announced a door being unlocked.

"Shh," warned Samuel, "here they come. Remember to be polite and don't try to cover your dick!"

Mike nodded and almost-folded his hands across his chest nervously, to keep from unconsciously doing exactly what he'd been warned against. It could cause a rejection, and rejection as a 'Special' meant the only other alternative: Sold into slavery for life.

A moment later, the keys were jingling again as the door to the room the boys were in was unlocked. Two men came in. One was an armed, muscular prison guard. The other was a lightly-built prisoner dressed in the usual prison orange coveralls.

"Well, Perkins?" Asked the guard as the two men approached the boys.

"Oh, yes," enthused the smaller man. "I see what you mean, Mister Sampson. These two are indeed both very beautiful boys. You're quite right. I can't possibly choose between them. Fortunately, I can afford to pay the state the fee for both. I'll take them!"

"Okay, you two," said the guard, to the boys, "stay with Perkins and obey him, and remember, any disobedience and he's allowed to thrash you! Leave your clothes. You won't be wearing them ever again, so they'll be cleaned and sold to help pay for the damage you caused."

Dolefully, the two little sex slaves abandoned their only remaining worldly possessions and followed the man who would be their master for the next six to nine years.

Getting Into A Car With A Stranger

A little boy makes the classic mistake of getting into a car with a stranger.

3,500 words (7 pages)
Andrew (8yo)
Mb – nosex – bond spank

Little eight-year-old Andrew was a beautiful lad with delicate features and full lips. His hair was short and dark and his eyes were a dark-chocolate brown. He looked positively delicious in his short, grey, school pants and blue shirt although he was as yet only vaguely aware of his own attractiveness.

But Andrew's beauty was not lost on the man who waited in his car right outside the school grounds as Andrew exited through the gate to walk the few blocks to his home.

Andrew didn't notice the man until he called out, "Hey, Andy!"

Andrew stopped and stared at him, unable to recognise him. Who was this man? How did the man know his name was Andrew?

"Uh, yeah. Who are you?"

"I'm a friend of your parents. Want a ride home?"

Andrew thought for only a second. He liked riding in cars so he eagerly got in. There was even a booster cushion in the passenger seat for him to sit on.

"Don't forget your seat belt," warned the man. Andrew buckled it up.

The car pulled out and drove off. Almost immediately, the man said, "I hope you don't mind, but there's someplace I have to go first, then I can take you home."

"Sure," replied Andrew, not worrying in the least. It seemed a bit strange since his home was so close, but a car ride would be nice.

Minutes passed and Andrew soon realised that the car was leaving the town and heading out into the country. He was puzzled but not scared. The man seemed quite relaxed so Andrew was too.

"This will take a little while, but I'll take you home right after I'm done. You like riding in the car?"

"Uh-huh," Andrew acknowledged, thinking how the man seemed to know what he liked. He really must know Mummy and Daddy to know that kind of thing.

A few minutes later, the man pulled into a driveway which led to a large house in an isolated spot with no neighbours. The man pressed a button on a remote control and the door to the garage opened, then he drove inside and pressed the button again and the door closed.

Andrew was puzzled. Why were they here? He looked out the car window at the garage, turning his back on the man.

An instant later, Andrew felt the man grab his arm which would have been furthest from the man if Andrew had still been facing forward. Before Andrew could react, cold metal circled his wrist as there was a rapid clicking noise.

"Hey!" yelled Andrew as he tried to turn around, but as he did so, his other wrist was grabbed and again there was the clicking noise as that wrist was also enclosed in cold, unyielding metal.

As the man got out of the car and calmly walked around to the passenger side, Andrew struggled, trying to get his hands in front of his body but finding it impossible. He twisted around and looked down to see shiny metal handcuffs enclosing his small wrists.

"Hey, let me go," demanded Andrew as the passenger side door of the car was opened.

Instead of answering, the man leaned down to Andrew's feet and seconds later, another pair of shiny handcuffs were around Andrew's ankles.

Andrew had finally begun to realise that something was terribly wrong as the man undid the seat belt then lifted him out of the car. Putting Andrew over his shoulder, the man strode over to a door in the side of the garage. Andrew was too shocked and scared at what was happening to think of struggling.

The door led right into the house and the man walked along a hallway a short distance before entering a room which had a single, high window and was furnished only with a bare mattress lying on the wall to wall carpet. A potty with a lid sat in one corner with a roll of toilet paper beside it.

The door was closed and Andrew was put down on his feet. For a moment the man just stood there, towering over the little boy as Andrew, now very frightened, stared up at this scary man.

For almost a minute the man just stood still, staring at Andrew as the little boy cowered before him. Then Andrew managed to finally pluck up enough courage to ask the obvious question.

"W-what do you want?"

"I want you to take all your clothes off. Are you going to do that for me?"

For a moment, Andrew wasn't sure he'd heard right. Then his mind rejected the proposal outright.

"No! That's rude!"

Without a word, the man left and closed the door after him. There was a noise like something sliding, then the man's footsteps receded.

Immediately, Andrew made for the door.

And fell flat on his face on the carpet.

Andrew had forgotten about the cuffs still locked around his ankles and had tripped on them.

Struggling to his feet as quickly as he could with his hands locked behind his back, Andrew shuffled over to the door and tried to reach up to the handle.

It was out of reach.

With his hands secured behind his back, Andrew discovered he couldn't raise them high enough to take hold of the door handle.

Then the footsteps returned. Andrew quickly hopped away from the door, afraid of what the man might do if he found Andrew near the door and guessed he'd been trying to escape.

Again, the sliding noise, then the door opened.

The man entered, holding a stiff leather strap as long as his own forearm and closed the door again.

The man stared coldly at Andrew, slowly and gently tapping the strap into the cupped palm of his other hand.

"This is a strap," explained the man. "It's used for hitting naughty boys on the bottom, when they won't do as they're told."

There was a pause while Andrew simply stared at the strap, unable to accept the reality that the man actually intended to hit him with it.

"You can either do as your told, or I can hit you with the strap until you do. Either way, you'll do as you're told. The only difference is whether or not I need to use the strap on you first."

Andrew still could only stare as the man asked his question again.

"Will you take all your clothes off for me?"

Wordlessly, Andrew shook his head. That was too rude! And he still did not believe that the man was serious.

The man suddenly bent down and reached behind Andrew's back, grabbing the chain between the handcuffs holding the boy's wrists, then pulled upward.

Andrew howled mostly in surprise and protest but partly from the pain as the metal handcuffs dug into his wrists. In seconds, he found himself bending right over in order to ease the pain.

'Whack, whack, whack, whack, whack, whack,' was the noise the strap made as it hit the seat of Andrew's shorts six times. Andrew was yelling after the second stroke and crying by the time the spanking ended. It hadn't been all that bad but it had hurt.

The man held Andrew in that position as he asked again, calmly, "Are you going to take your clothes off for me?"

"No!' howled Andrew, more by reflex than by any real choice.

'Thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack,' went the strap, just a bit harder this time. His bottom tingling with pain, Andrew cried and struggled but with his hands held up in the air and his feet held close together by the handcuffs around his ankles, there wasn't much movement left to him.

"I can do this all day, you know, and I'll keep on hitting harder and harder until you do what I want. Now, will you take your clothes off for me?"

Trying to be brave and do what he thought was right, Andrew once again answered with a sobbing "no," although nowhere near as forcefully this time.

'Thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack,' came Andrew's third spanking, this time at about the same level as the previous one in spite of the man's threat to hit harder. The pain still wasn't too bad, but it was enough to make Andrew cry and it promised more to come.

"Will you take your clothes off for me?"

"Y-yes," sobbed the beaten little boy.

Andrew had given up at last. His bottom hurt, but it was more the threat of worse and continued pain which persuaded him. He understood that he'd experienced very little of the pain the man could inflict on him if he wished. He'd have to obey.

"You're quite sure? I can hit you some more if you're not sure."

"N-no! Please!" Anything seemed better to Andrew than the strap, at that moment.

"You're quite sure you want to take your clothes off for me?"

"Yes." Andrew was sure, by now.

The man let go of Andrew's cuffs and the weeping boy stood up straight, then the man put down the strap and, pulling a set of keys from his pocket, unlocked the cuffs from Andrew's wrists.

The man waited a minute while Andrew rubbed his sore wrists where the handcuffs had dug into them, then the man spoke.

"Top things first. Get them off and hand them over." He held out one hand, palm up, and made a couple of grabbing motions to get his point across.

Andrew sniffled from the lingering pain of the spankings as he undid the buttons on his school shirt and took it off, followed by his white singlet. The pain in his bottom quickly faded to mild discomfort but Andrew definitely didn't want to find out just how hard the man could hit, so he didn't think of disobeying. He handed both articles of clothing to the man.

"Pull your pants and undies down, all the way."

The order felt like the knell of doom to Andrew, but he obeyed, feeling very silly as he stood there with his little penis on display to the man. Reflexively, his hands went to cover it.

The man crouched down and fastened the handcuffs which he'd removed from Andrew's wrists around the boy's ankles, just above his lowered shorts and underpants, then unlocked the other pair of handcuffs from below the clothing.

Andrew's legs hadn't been free for even an instant and Andrew had already discovered that running was impossible with the cuffs on.

"Get them off, then your shoes and socks." Andrew shuffled out of his shorts and underpants before picking them up and putting them into the man's outstretched hand, then he sat down to take his shoes and socks off.

Once Andrew had finished stripping himself naked, the man snapped the handcuffs back around Andrew's wrists, once again behind the boy's back. No longer able to cover his penis, Andrew felt very exposed and helpless.

The man pointed to the corner, where the potty stood. "You can use that if you need the toilet. You should be able to wipe yourself with your hands behind your back. Lie down on the mattress if you want. Sleep if you like."

Then the man walked out and closed the door. Again, there was that sound like something sliding and Andrew this time realised that it must be a bolt to secure the door closed. Even if he hadn't been handcuffed, Andrew was trapped in the room.

And the man had taken all of Andrew's clothes with him. Andrew was left stark naked and helpless in the bare room.

It took Andrew three full minutes of staring at the closed door to realise that the man wasn't coming back any time soon. He turned around and looked for a way of escape.

It took another three minutes for Andrew to realise that there was no way of escape. The window was too high for him to reach and the only other way out, the door, was closed and bolted. In any case, with his hands cuffed behind him, Andrew already knew he couldn't reach the door knob.

With nothing else to do, Andrew sat down on the mattress and waited. He would have cried, but what had been pain in his bottom was now no more than a slight tingle and crying was only useful when there was someone around to hear you and respond. Andrew was alone.

After a while, boredom set in. Andrew lay down and rolled himself fully onto the mattress. At least he had something softer than the floor to lie on, he thought. Then he began to think about his situation.

Up until now, Andrew had been in 'reactive' mode, simply responding to the immediate problems his situation presented him with. Now, he began to wonder what was going on. Why had this man taken him away? Why had he been made to undress and why was he now locked in this room with his wrists and ankles secured by handcuffs? Andrew lay on the mattress and thought hard.

Kidnapped.

The word came to Andrew at last. He'd been kidnapped.

But why? Andrew knew that kidnapping was usually associated with getting lots of money – a ransom – for returning the kidnapped person, but Andrew knew his parents weren't rich. They had enough, but they weren't rich.

Andrew thought hard and finally began to remember some of the news reports he'd overheard when his parents hadn't realised he'd been listening. Reports of a child being taken away and 'molested' or 'abused' in some way.

Although Andrew had only a vague idea of what those terms meant, he'd figured out that they were connected somehow to sex, which automatically made them 'dirty' in his young mind. He'd occasionally tried to imagine what they meant and had been both appalled at what he imagined and surprised to find himself very aroused by his imagination.

But imagination was one thing. Reality was 3; well 3; reality! Andrew felt far more appalled than aroused as he realised how helpless he was, and that this strange man could do anything at all with him.

With his fertile imagination coupled to the reality of his situation, Andrew was suddenly more frightened than he'd ever been before in his young life. Now fully aware of his helplessness, Andrew began quite involuntarily to cry as he lay on the mattress.

Time passed and eventually, Andrew had almost run out of tears. Then he heard footsteps approaching the door again and sat up, trying to be ready for anything.

The man came in, carrying a low stool on which sat a plastic bowl and jug. As before, he carefully closed the door before coming over to where Andrew, now very frightened, practically cowered on the mattress.

The man set the stool down and Andrew could see that there was a spoon on the stool as well. The bowl looked as though it had soup in it and in the jug, water. There was also a plastic cup which had been out of sight behind the bowl, and two slices of bread.

"Fight me, and I'll take your food away and let you starve. Do as you're told, and you get to eat. You must be hungry by now." The man reached behind Andrew and unlocked one side of the handcuffs so Andrew could bring his hands around to his front at last.

Once Andrew's hands were in front, the man immediately cuffed them together again, then he stood up.

"Eat. I'll be back later." The man left the room, bolting the door behind him.

Andrew at first didn't think he could eat anything, but a whiff of the savory aroma arising from the soup immediately caused his mouth to water. Quickly changing his mind, Andrew picked up the spoon in one hand and a slice of bread in the other, only slightly hindered by his handcuffed wrists.

It was quite some time before the man returned and Andrew had time to reflect that at least his kidnapper didn't seem like he was going to starve him. He also hadn't tried to do any of the nasty things which Andrew had imagined.

So why had he been kidnapped, Andrew wondered? It was a puzzle which the little boy found impossible to solve.

When the man returned, he simply took the empty bowl, the jug and the spoon, leaving a plastic cup of water into which he placed a straw. Again he did nothing to Andrew, except to secure his hands behind his back once again.

There followed a very long period of total boredom for Andrew. He used the potty a couple of times, once for each purpose, finding that his handcuffed wrists still allowed him enough movement to use the toilet paper effectively.

Andrew could see through the window that it was getting dark outside. The light coming into the room from the window was fading. All of the water was gone and he was hungry again.

Andrew wondered what time it was. He knew he normally went to bed not long after it got dark outside. The room gradually became darker and darker and Andrew began to be scared. He didn't like the dark. He'd always had a night-light in his bedroom.

The footsteps again!

The door opened and the man came in, snapping on the light as he did so. He was carrying a plastic plate and the plastic jug. Without a word, the man set the plate and the jug of water down on the stool, switched Andrew's handcuffs to the front, then left.

The plate had sandwiches on it, and a large slice of cake! Andrew ate them gratefully, barely noticing his cuffed hands. The cake even had jam and cream filling, Andrew's favorite.

Before Andrew had finished eating, the man had come and gone twice more. Once to take away the potty and a second time to return it, now empty and clean.

It was quite dark outside. Andrew had finished the food a while ago and was feeling sleepy. Then he heard the footsteps again as the man returned.

When the man came into the room, he plugged a small night-light into a power outlet and turned it on, then he knelt down near Andrew and spoke to him, gently.

"Scared?"

Andrew nodded. He'd been scared ever since he arrived, although being fed nice food had helped a lot.

"You're supposed to be. That's the whole idea of all of this."

Andrew stared at the man, puzzled.

"Didn't your parents tell you not to get into a car with a strange man?"

Andrew stared, then nodded. Yes, his parents had certainly told him that.

"Well, that's exactly what you did, didn't you? You don't know me, so I'm a strange man, but you got into my car just because I told you I knew your parents. You disobeyed your parents, didn't you?"

Andrew thought about that, and then, shamefaced, nodded again. Yes, he now realised he'd done exactly that.

"Well, you're a lucky little boy, because I really do know your parents. In fact, they agreed to me pretending to kidnap you, to give you a scare, so you'd remember not to do it ever again."

Andrew looked at the man, then looked at the handcuffs still securing his wrists. Not a real kidnapping? The handcuffs certainly seemed real.

Seeing Andrew's confused look, the man continued, "Yes, those handcuffs are real, and you're really going to have to wear them until after breakfast tomorrow, and you're really going to be kept locked in this room all night, and you have to stay naked all the time. Those things will help you to remember not to be so silly in the future. But tomorrow, you get to wear your clothes again and to go home to mummy and daddy."

Andrew felt silly. A game. It was all a game. Now he understood why the spankings had been so light that they were more scare than pain. Now he knew why the man had fed him properly and how he'd known about Andrew's favorite cake and that he needed a night-light to sleep. It was all a game. Or was it? Andrew still had lingering doubts. He wasn't home and safe yet.

The man moved the stool with the water and cup out of Andrew's way, near the night-light. He then left the room for a minute and when he returned, he washed Andrew's face and hands with a damp washcloth before telling Andrew to try to sleep and then leaving, turning out the light as he went. As before, he closed and bolted the door behind him.

With his hands still cuffed in front of him, Andrew easily found a comfortable position on the mattress so he could sleep. His doubts did not hinder sleep. There wasn't anything he could do about his situation anyway. The room was warm so blankets were unnecessary. The naked boy slept well.

When morning came, Andrew was awoken by the door opening. The man entered, carrying a small tray.

"Get yourself outside of this lot, then it'll be time for you to go home," said the man.

Andrew's breakfast was toast with eggs, along with a plastic cup of milk. Breakfast was a bit difficult to eat using his cuffed hands, but Andrew managed it.

Not long after he'd finished, the man entered the room again. This time, he was holding Andrew's clothes!

The cuffs were unlocked and Andrew was allowed to dress. Clothing had never seemed like such a luxury to the small boy.

The ride back home seemed anticlimactic after the adventure Andrew had just had.

Once he was delivered safely back to his parents, Andrew had one more ordeal to get through: A good talking-to by both parents, about the wisdom (or lack of it) of getting into cars with strangers.

The 'stranger' turned out to be Uncle Jim who had just moved to the area, having recently retired. Andrew quickly got over the experience but he never forgot it. It became a family joke for Uncle Jim to say "remember the day I kidnapped Andy?"

On Andrew's tenth birthday, he asked Uncle Jim if they could play 'kidnap' again. Uncle Jim obliged and the game went a lot further than Andrew's first 'kidnapping' had, but that's another story.

The Wearing Of The Squeeks

A single father who is into the bondage scene chooses an unusual method when trying to force his quarreling twin twelve-year-old boys into making up.

4,000 words (8 pages)
Michael and Gabriel (12yo twin) and their father
bb – cons mast – bond

I was more than halfway through writing this story when my disobedient characters suddenly seized control and demanded their own ending. Naughty characters!

It had been a terrible three days. Being a sole parent is difficult enough when you're a father but my twin sons, Michael and Gabriel, had gotten into a silly dispute over something so insignificant that I can't even remember what it was.

But because of that silly quarrel, both of my twelve-year-old boys were now refusing to talk to each other or cooperate with each other in anything. They had been named after angels, but were behaving more like devils. Something needed to be done and I'd finally decided on desperate action.

The morning of the fourth day of the boys' standoff found me prepared. I've been interested in Bondage for most of my life and had never deliberately hidden my practices from my boys although before now I'd never thought of involving them in any part of it.

Lately, I had noticed that the boys had become quite interested in the whole idea of being bound. I'd seen them playing tie-up games with each other in the back yard when they didn't realise I was watching through a window, so I had good reason to believe they wouldn't be too upset by what I was planning to do to them.

Just five minutes before their alarm clock would normally go off, I entered the bedroom the boys shared, held up the saucepan and ladle I'd brought with me and began making the most clamorous racket I could manage without damaging either cooking implement.

The effect on the slumbering twins was almost electric. Both boys practically leapt to their feet, so frightened by the unexpected din that for a moment I thought they were about to wet themselves.

"Now hear this!" I announced to the startled, newly-awakened boys. "You will dress in underpants and sandals only, then you will come to the lounge room. You will do so immediately!" I glared back and forth at the boys as I continued, "This is not a request! This is an order! Disobey and you'll discover exactly how angry I am with both of you!" Then I walked out of the room.

I expected the boys would obey me. Although I love both of my boys and I make sure they know it, they both know that when I use that particular tone of voice, disobedience is not a wise choice.

Sure enough, less than five minutes later both boys, attired exactly as I'd commanded them in only white y-fronts and sandals, scuttled into the lounge room where I was waiting.

Adopting the voice I used when doing a Scene with a submissive I commanded them, "Michael, stand here, Gabriel, here! Stand up straight! Separate your legs! Hands behind your back and clasped together! Don't move until I give you permission! Don't speak without first being spoken to!" Eyes wide with astonishment, both boys immediately obeyed each and every order.

I put my hands on my hips and stared back and forth at the boys, deliberately adding to their discomfiture at my unexpected harshness toward them. I waited until I could see that both of them were scared enough for the next stage to be as effective as possible while I also kept an eye on their brief underwear, a habit of mine from bondage scenes to see if there was any submissive reaction to the way I was treating them.

"I have had it with your attitudes!" I announced, angrily. "This quarrel is stupid. You were best friends before you managed to both get into such a silly huff with each other. It's time to end this! I'm giving you one chance only to make up with each other now, otherwise I'm going to force the issue, and believe me, you won't like what I have planned!" I paused for effect and to observe their reactions, both facial and penile.

"What do you have to say for yourselves?" I demanded. I looked at Michael.

"He started it," grumbled Michael, followed immediately by Gabriel countering with "Did not! He did!" Michael was about to argue the point further, but I cut in with, "I don't care!" overriding both boys.

"Silence!" I added, seeing that they both still wanted to argue. "I don't care who started it. You're going to stop it right now, or I'll make you stop it! I want you to apologise to each other right now and stop this nonsense!" I waited.

Both boys looked sullenly defiant, hanging their heads. They knew they were doing wrong, but were too proud to back down. I decided that I would have to go through with my plan and let out an only slightly exaggerated sigh.

The devices I'd constructed had been leaning against the wall near the door the boys had entered by, so they hadn't seen them yet. I pulled a pair of handcuffs out of my pocket and waved them at the boys. "Last chance," I intoned. Neither boy spoke, although I saw their eyes again widen in surprise.

Without another word, I walked behind the boys and quickly applied the cuffs to Michael's wrists, trapping his hands behind his back, then I repeated the process on Gabriel with a second pair of cuffs. With the boys nervously watching me, I walked over to the wall and picked up one of the devices, to their curious stares.

Each device was a large, hard plastic disc which had been cut exactly in half across its diameter and a hole made in the exact centre, with a hinge connecting the two halves on one side and a hasp and staple-lock to connect the other side of the two halves.

The staple-lock is a useful device. The hole in the hasp is placed over the button then with a quarter-turn of the button, it traps the hasp in place. The button can also be locked with a key so that it can't be turned and so the hasp cannot be unfastened without the key.

I held up the device in front of the boys as I spoke.

"I got the idea for this from an old comic book. It's called a 'Squeek'. The name was meant to be funny. It's a punishment collar and it fastens around your neck, like so 3;" I opened the two halves and approached Michael, watching his reaction.

Michael's hands twitched and he tugged at the cuffs, but he didn't pull away as I gently placed the collar around his neck and closed the two halves so that his neck went through the hole in the middle, then I closed the hasp, turned the staple-lock and locked it. I stepped back, waited a second to ensure that Michael wasn't in any distress, then went and got the other Squeek from where it lay against the wall.

Gabriel also wriggled his hands around, instinctively trying to escape the cuffs as I carefully locked the collar around his neck. The collars were light and the plastic around the neck holes had been carefully rounded so there would be no chafing, but I knew fairly well what the effects of these devices would be and that neither boy would be happy with wearing them once they realised what the collars did.

I briefly observed a small tent in the front of each boy's underpants before I went behind them again and removed their handcuffs. It seemed that the boys were at least partly enjoying being dominated. I filed the information away for later because the object on this occasion wasn't to sexually stimulate the boys but to force them to reconcile.

"You're dismissed!" I told the boys, then left them to their own devices while I went to prepare breakfast.

As I filled a bowl with cereal, the boys slowly followed me into the kitchen, staring at me and fingering the collars as they carefully manipulated them through the narrow doorway. I knew that breakfast would force upon both boys a good understanding of the effects of wearing those wide collars. Right now, they were merely puzzled. This didn't seem like much of a punishment to them. Yet.

I poured the milk on my cereal then began to eat, waiting to see what the boys would do.

After a minute, Gabriel got a bowl from the cupboard, poured the cereal, picked up the milk carton and poured the milk on his cereal, got a spoon and sat down to eat. Michael began to do the same thing.

It was around then that Gabriel figured out the problem.

Gabriel lifted the spoon to eat his cereal, then he stared at the spoon, an expression of horrified disbelief growing in his eyes. Even Michael noticed that look and, in spite of his resolve to keep up the feud, looked at Gabriel with concern. Then he, too, realised the problem which they both shared.

I had deliberately made the collars so wide that it was impossible for either boy to get his hands near his head.

Both boys stared at me in disbelief. I grinned back at them as I ate my cereal and waited for them to speak.

"How am I supposed to eat this?" asked Gabriel. "I can't get the spoon anywhere near my mouth with this thing on."

"Yeah," I replied, calmly. "I know." I continued eating. The boys stared at me, still disbelieving.

The tone of Gabriel's voice indicated that he thought he'd discovered a fatal flaw in my plan to punish them as he continued, "Well how do I eat, then? You can't leave these things on us! We'll starve!"

"Actually," I replied, "you won't. There's a very simple solution to your problem, if only you're willing to use it. You'll only starve if you're so stupidly stubborn that you refuse to use the obvious solution." I continued eating and watching the boys.

Over the next minute or two, I could see both boys thinking hard as they stared at me and I saw the moment when the solution occurred to Gabriel. He slowly turned his head and stared at Michael, who stared back. Michael had also figured out the obvious solution. Neither boy liked it. They stared at me again, accusing looks on their faces.

I spooned up the last of my cereal and milk, then asked, "figured it out, yet?" Two little heads nodded slowly. If looks could have killed, the expressions on the faces of the twins would have caused me to drop dead instantly. Twice.

"Good," I replied, calmly. "You'd better hurry. Your cereal's getting soggy. Or perhaps I should say, Michael's cereal is getting soggy. If you don't want him to retaliate by feeding you soggy cereal, you'd better feed him that cereal before it gets too soggy."

Again, the twins glared daggers at me, but they were stuck and they knew it. They had to cooperate, or they weren't going to get any breakfast. Gabriel pushed the cereal bowl toward Michael and dipped the spoon into the cereal.

First, Gabriel fed Michael. Then Michael poured the milk on a second bowl of cereal and fed Gabriel.

When both boys had finished eating, Gabriel took the empty bowls to the sink and returned carrying two glasses of water. Without a word, he held one glass while Michael drank, then Michael held the other glass while Gabriel drank.

It was a good beginning, and there was still a week to go before school resumed. I had little doubt that their shared travail would reunite in friendship the hearts of my much-loved young boys long before then.

The day wore on, fairly quickly for me but I'm sure very slowly for my entrapped boys. They had donned shorts over their underpants but with the Squeeks locked around their necks, they had to remain bare-chested. Fortunately for them, it was summer and a hot day. Lunch would force the twins to once again confront their identical predicaments.

I was fairly sure that neither boy had drunk anything since breakfast, each not wanting to ask his twin for help, so they must have been quite thirsty by now. It was more leverage to force them to interact peacefully, although I wasn't ignoring and was actually a little worried about the potential health issues of them becoming dehydrated.

As I went to cook lunch, I called out to the boys, "Decide now which of you is going to be fed first! If you start arguing over it, you can go hungry until tea-time! I mean it!"

As I laid the sausages on the oven's grill plate, the boys walked slowly into the kitchen, looking rather sullen. Michael spoke this time.

"Gabriel fed me first at breakfast, so I'll feed him first for lunch." Fairness. Both of the twins had that instinct in abundance. They still were refusing to talk to each other but it was another baby step toward their reconciliation.

Without preamble, Gabriel suddenly complained, "I'm really thirsty!"

Michael silently went and got two glasses of water. Large glasses, I noted. He held one glass while Gabriel drank, then Gabriel held the other while Michael drank.

Once lunch had been cooked, I served up two plates and placed one in front of Gabriel before starting on the other, myself. Once Gabriel had finished his lunch with Michael's assistance, I paused my lunch to fill another plate so Gabriel could feed Michael. Again, they helped each other to drink a glass of water after the meal.

"You know," I began, "you're not going to win this game. I hold all of the cards." I took another mouthful of food and chewed while watching the boys sullenly staring at the table.

"You should start planning exactly how you're going to end your quarrel, because I'm going to win, sooner or later. We have all week if we need it and you're going to wear those collars every day unless you come to some kind of agreement with each other." I could see the boys staring at me from under lowered brows. I wasn't sure if they knew it, but I was serious.

I cut the boys a slice of cake each for dessert and watched as they fed each other again. I could see in their faces that their resolve was starting to show cracks, but they weren't beaten yet.

The afternoon, the evening meal and the rest of the night before bedtime must have seemed like an eternity for the twins, wearing those clumsy collars the whole time. At least they now had the sense to express the need for a drink whenever they were thirsty, and freely helped each other to do so.

Naturally, the boys didn't want to go outside wearing the Squeeks and run the risk of someone else seeing them looking so silly, so they had to content themselves with indoor activities. Since we had only one video game machine and they were maintaining their quarrel and didn't want to play with each other, they didn't enjoy themselves much.

Being constructed of plastic, the collars were waterproof and even the locks and hinges were stainless steel, so I made the twins keep the devices on while they showered, together.

The twins had bathed and showered as a pair since early childhood and had only stopped when their quarrel began. Now, they were practically forced into showering together again in order to wash each other's hair and faces.

While the boys were in the shower, I was secretly preparing their room. Once they had finished drying themselves they entered said chamber where I was waiting for them. Both boys saw the camping toilet I'd placed against the wall opposite their beds. Then they saw the chains, each one padlocked to a boy's bed with a cuff on the opposite end.

"No, I'm not changing my mind about this," I warningly pre-empted their possible objections, placing one hand on each boy's shoulder. "You can, if you want to, by ending your quarrel. Otherwise, we're doing this." The boys looked at me, then at each other but still stubbornly refused to speak to each other. I pushed them over to their beds where the cuffs lay on the floor before firmly fastening and locking each cuff around one ankle of each boy. Then I finally unlocked and removed the collars.

"You can use the camping toilet if you need it. I made sure the chains are long enough for you to reach it. You just won't be able to sneak out and get extra food for yourselves." The boys stared at me, still sullen.

"Good night boys. I really do suggest you start trying to forgive each other. You'll be a lot better off in the end if you do." I left them, turning out the main light as I went. The boys had bedside lamps so they weren't left in total darkness.

I must admit that I didn't sleep as well as I might have. I was worried about my beautiful boys. They'd been so stubborn about keeping their quarrel going and although I could see some softening of their attitudes, they were keeping the quarrel going out of nothing but foolish pride. While in their presence, I had expressed more confidence than I actually felt although I believed my plan had a good chance of success.

I rose early the next morning, unable to sleep soundly from worry and, without much appetite, forced myself to eat my own breakfast before the boys were due to awaken.

What if the twins didn't do as I expected? I had only acted because their quarrel had gone on far longer than the usual childhood spats. Now I was conflicted, worrying that I was only highlighting their quarrel when it may have ended naturally if I'd only waited a bit longer. But the die had been cast and if I backed out now, I had no idea how long it would take before the boys managed to forget their quarrel.

I forced my attitude into Scene Mode in order to project an air of confidence before entering the boys' room, carrying the Squeeks. In one respect it was a false confidence, but in another it was real since bondage scenes were familiar to me and this was, I finally admitted to myself, another bondage scene.

That realisation shocked me out of my false self-confidence once again as I stared at my slumbering boys. What was I doing to them? Perhaps the way I was treating them now would permanently scar their minds. But I'd trapped myself almost as effectively as I'd trapped them. If I backed out now, the results could be almost as bad as continuing.

I decided to simply play it by ear. Neither of the twins had shown any particular distress at yesterday's bondage-play, or at being chained to their beds by one ankle. Perhaps they were tougher than I gave them credit for? I set down the punishment collars then opened the window blinds. The twins stirred and groaned, slowly awakening due to the intruding light.

I strolled to a position between the boys' beds while I waited for them to awaken properly and notice my presence. Then my eye happened upon the bedside table between their beds, and on the box of tissues sitting thereupon.

That hadn't been there last night when I put the boys to bed.

I glanced at the boys' ankles but the cuffs were still securely attached. It was doubtful that the boys could have removed and replaced them without the keys, which I held the only copies of. They must have had the tissues within reach, but why? Neither boy showed any sign of 'the sniffles'.

My gaze travelled downward, to the small waste paper bin underneath the bedside table. There were crumpled tissues in it. I was certain that it had been empty when I'd put the boys to bed. A suspicion entered my mind and, as the boys came fully awake and looked curiously at me, I stepped forward and picked up the bin.

I counted eight used tissues in the bin. I knew what the boys had been using those tissues for. I had, after all, been a twelve-year-old boy myself.

Eight tissues divided by two boys made four. Four times, in one evening? My boys must have been really 3; stimulated 3; and with that thought, a suspicion entered my mind for the first time. I put the bin back where it had been and stepped back, looking curiously back and forth at my boys while they stared back at me, somewhat guiltily.

I waited and thought, looking back and forth at the twins while I considered the evidence and came to the only logical conclusion.

"I've been had, haven't I?"

The boys looked at each other then back at me, guilt written all over their faces.

"You set me up! This was all a game 3; a deception, to try to get me to tie you up, wasn't it?"

Their even-more-guilty looks and the way they blushed told me the answer.

I was annoyed and allowed some of that annoyance to enter my voice.

"I've been worried almost sick about you two for the past few days; I couldn't sleep properly last night for worry, and now I find out that it's all been a game you two were playing? A trick on me?"

To their credit, both boys looked and sounded truly contrite as they spoke to me.

"I'm sorry, dad." Gabriel spoke first but was immediately echoed by Michael.

I stared at the ceiling for a minute while I calmed down and decided what to say next. It was something of a shock to discover that my boys were not only old enough to want bondage games and clever enough to outsmart their old dad to get what they wanted, but also that they were good enough actors to pretend to quarrel for three whole days without breaking character. I needed a bit of time to get my mind fully around the concept.

After I once again trusted myself to speak, I looked at the twins and asked, "Just how long were you intending to keep this up?" "The rest of the week, if we could," Michael replied. Gabriel nodded confirmation. Both boys looked (and Michael sounded) very disappointed. They obviously believed that the game was at an end and hated the idea.

I closed my eyes and thought deeply, considering the possibilities carefully. Then I came to a decision and opened my eyes.

I picked up one of the Squeeks and quickly fastened it around Michael's neck, then repeated the process on an obviously disbelieving but delighted Gabriel.

"Just think," I told the boys, "we have another whole week!" I unlocked their ankle cuffs before continuing, "strip to underpants before you come to breakfast."

The twins grinned delightedly after me as I left the room. The next week would be a very interesting one, for all of us, and I had a couple of devices which would ensure that the boys would not be doing any masturbating without my permission for that week.

After that? We would see.

Takumi Tied Tight

A big brother accidentally betrays his little brother's trust while playing a tie-up game.

2,500 words (5 pages)
Takumi (7yo) and Johnny (11yo)
bb – nosex – bond

The characters in this story are the intellectual property of Neloku on Deviantart http://neloku.deviantart.com/ who gave permission for the author to use them. According to Neloku, Johnny and Takumi are based upon himself and his little brother, when they were younger.

"Play with me! Play with me! C'mon Johnny, play with me!"

Johnny almost sighed out loud in exasperation. He loved his little brother Takumi and admired the young tyke's fighting spirit, but sometimes he could be really annoying. Like right now.

"I can't. I have to finish this school project. It's due tomorrow."

Takumi wasn't impressed by this reasoning. Being only seven years old, he had far less sense of responsibility than his eleven-year-old brother.

"Aaaaw, I wanna play! C'mon Johnny! I'm bored! Play with me before bedtime!"

Johnny bit back an angry retort. He was a peaceable character normally, but right now his little brother could hardly have been more annoying, nor chosen a more inconvenient time to be so. Still, Johnny didn't want to hurt his brother's feelings if he could help it.

Then an idea began to form in Johnny's head.

"I have an idea for a game."

"What is it?"

Johnny grinned at his own ingenuity.

"I tie you up and you have to try to escape. If you can escape, I'll play whatever game you want, but if you can't escape, then you have to stay tied until I finish my project."

For a moment, Takumi seemed unsure, but then with typical little-boy recklessness and equally typical Takumi bravado, he replied, "Sure! I can escape if you're the one doing the tying."

Johnny's grin only widened. He was fairly sure of his ability to secure his little brother quite inescapably without hurting him, so Takumi's teasing didn't bother Johnny in the least.

"Let's go."

"Where?"

"The attic, of course. Everything we'll need is already there." Johnny grabbed his electric torch and both boys headed for the attic stairs.

The attic was just as Johnny remembered it, with its boxes of old clothes, the surplus kitchen chair and some old ropes. Everything he'd need to keep Takumi out of the way and quiet until he'd finished his school project. He picked up a fairly long length of rope then put down his torch, making sure that its beam illuminated the kitchen chair.

It was an old style wooden chair, with a spindle back. It was still quite strong and usable, but it had been banished to the attic because it was unneeded.

"Stand here while I tie this around you," instructed Johnny. Takumi stood still as Johnny tied the middle of the rope around his little brother's waist, knotting it securely behind his back.

"Now sit in the chair."

Takumi sat down and Johnny instructed him, "move right back so your back is against the back of the chair." Takumi did so, and Johnny pulled the ends of the rope through the gaps on either side of one of the spindles, then tied the rope behind it, securing Takumi to the chair back.

While it was already unlikely that Takumi would be able to escape the chair, Johnny had no intention of stopping now. He was just getting warmed up. His little brother had agreed to being tied up and Johnny had every intention of making Takumi as secure as possible.

"Put your hands behind the chair."

Takumi immediately did so and Johnny quickly wrapped one end of the rope around Takumi's right wrist before knotting it then repeating the process using the other end of the rope around Takumi's left wrist. Takumi was so small that his hands could not reach all the way around the chair back, so there was no way he could have reached the knots even if Johnny hadn't gone further.

But Johnny did go further. He brought the ends of the rope down to the cross bar between the back legs of the chair and tied them there as well as to each other.

"Spread your legs and put them on either side of the chair seat."

Takumi did so but wriggled his hands against the bonds for a moment as he did it then gave a slightly nervous chuckle.

"Wow! You're really doing a good job! This is going to be hard!"

"You didn't think I was going to make it easy for you, did you?"

"Nope. Go on. I can take it."

Johnny grinned. His little brother was so confident. And defiant. It made Johnny proud to be his big brother, but he had no intention of going easy on the little tyke.

With swift, efficient movements, Johnny tied each end of the rope to Takumi's ankles, trapping the boy's legs underneath the chair.

"Almost done. Just a couple of things left." Johnny began to rummage among the old clothes under the curious gaze of his entrapped little brother.

"What else can you do?" asked Takumi in a puzzled voice as Johnny approached, holding a couple of old, white singlets, folding one into a pad as he did so.

"This!" said Johnny, grinning as he suddenly pushed the wad of cloth into Takumi's mouth, followed by quickly wrapping the other singlet around the small boy's head and tying it tightly behind his head to keep the wad of cloth inside his brother's mouth.

"MMMhfff!" Takumi hadn't expected this, although he probably should have.

Johnny stood back a moment, admiring his handiwork. The wad of cloth was only partway inside Takumi's mouth, with much of it sticking out both above and below the singlet tied around the boy's head, but that was fine. It still served to muffle his brother's voice very efficiently.

"You don't think I'd let you have your mouth free, do you? You might yell for mum or dad to get you untied, and that would be cheating! Now, just one more thing."

"HMhff?" Even with speech denied him, Takumi could still use tone of voice to signal a question.

"You'll see. You might be here for an hour or two, and I don't want you to be too uncomfortable." Johnny sorted out some old clothes and arranged them into a thick pad, then approached his bound brother again.

Carefully, Johnny tied the bundle of clothing to the chair spindles behind Takumi's head, centred at upper-neck height, using a couple of pairs of old trousers to hold the bundle in place by tying their legs around the chair spindles and the top bar.

"There. That'll be something for you to rest your head against if you get tired."

"Hhhmm-mmm!"

"You're welcome. Now, I'm going back to work on that project. If it's not finished by tomorrow, my head will be on the chopping block!" Johnny made his way carefully back to the attic stairs, leaving his torch where it lay, shining on his helplessly bound brother in the chair. The idea of leaving his little brother in total darkness did not even occur to Johnny. For him, that would have been too nasty a thing to do to the brother he loved.

Takumi watched his big brother leave and, as soon as his footsteps had faded away, Takumi began to struggle.

At first random, Takumi's struggles became more focused as he realised the ropes weren't going to come loose easily.

Takumi decided to concentrate on the gag first. It was uncomfortable, clogging up his mouth and drying it out. He bit, chewed and began to work his jaw and his tongue, trying to work the wad of cloth out from between his jaws.

After what seemed like a long time, Takumi gave up. He'd managed to shift the wad of cloth in his mouth only slightly and it was obvious that it wasn't going to move any further. Getting the gag out of his mouth was a hopeless proposition without either help, or his hands being free. He had to concentrate on them, next.

Wriggling, twisting, pulling, tugging and squirming. Takumi tried them all, both slowly and quickly as well as alone and in combination. It took up a lot of time, and a lot of effort.

After much struggling, Takumi eventually had to admit defeat. He'd barely managed to loosen the ropes. In fact, he wasn't sure he had loosened them at all. Certainly there was still no way to get his hands out of the loops of rope which imprisoned them, holding his arms behind the chair back.

It was rather a shock to Takumi to have to admit to himself that he was actually, really tied up. Takumi, tied tight. He really and truly couldn't escape.

After admitting the truth to himself, Takumi felt a small frisson of fear and excitement tickle up and down his spine. He was tied up. Truly tied up. He really couldn't escape, and only his brother knew where he was. With the gag still blocking his mouth, Takumi couldn't call for help, and since their parents trusted Johnny to put Takumi to bed at the right time, they wouldn't miss him. He'd have to wait for Johnny to release him.

Speaking of Johnny, where was he? Surely he'd been gone for long enough to have finished his school project by now? So where was he and why hadn't he returned to release his little brother from his enforced confinement?

Downstairs, Johnny scanned the details of his project. It had to be perfect. He needed good grades on this. His eyelids drooped with fatigue as he reviewed his work. It looked good. Possibly good enough. Just one more read-through to be sure. But it was getting late and he was so tired. He had to concentrate. He just had to read it one more time 3;

In the attic, Takumi struggled against his bonds again. It had to be past his bedtime by now. Where was Johnny? Why hadn't he returned to release his little brother and put him to bed? For the first time, Takumi was worried. And he still hadn't made any noticeable progress toward escaping.

The little boy put his head back against the pad of clothing, glad that at least he'd been provided with a comfortable place to rest his head. He wanted to sleep so bad, he could almost taste it. Maybe a short nap? Yes. Since he couldn't escape, a short nap would be good. Takumi closed his eyes and relaxed.

Takumi's eyes popped open. What was that noise in the distance? It seemed vaguely familiar. And why could he barely see?

Then Takumi recognised the sound. It was an electronic alarm clock going off. But that only happened in the morning. None of the alarm clocks were set to go off at any other time, so 3; Takumi felt shocked. Had he really slept all night? He turned his head to look around.

He was still in the attic, still tied helplessly to the chair and firmly gagged. That much was immediately clear. But why? Why hadn't Johnny come to release him? Where was Johnny, and why was it so dark in the attic now? Takumi looked down.

Johnny's electric torch still lay beside him, its beam still directed toward Takumi, but now it was a lot dimmer than it had been. The batteries were running down!

Takumi shivered. With the torch-light dimming, his young imagination began to populate the attic's shadows with monsters, adding to his fear of having been forgotten and being left to die alone in the attic.

The sound of the alarm had stopped, although whether it had stopped by itself or been turned off by someone it had awoken, Takumi had no way of knowing. Nor did he particularly care. All he wanted right at that moment was to get out of the attic, free of rope and gag. Where was Johnny? Didn't he love his brother any more? Had Johnny left him here to die?

His youthful imagination running rampant, Takumi began to panic and struggled hard, still bound inescapably to the chair. His helplessness only increased his level of panic and he began to cry, now struggling frantically, not that it did him any good. The only effect of Takumi's struggles was to chafe his wrists against the imprisoning rope.

"Takumi!"

It was Johnny, at last.

"Takumi! I'm so sorry!" Johnny almost ran over to Takumi as he spoke and began to unfasten the gag.

"I'm so, so sorry, Takumi! I didn't mean to leave you like this all night. I was working on my project and just fell asleep without noticing. I woke up when the alarm went off and then 3;" Johnny's voice caught, "I remembered you. I'm so sorry." The gag was off. "Are you okay?"

Takumi's voice came out as nothing but a croak as he tried to speak, his mouth was so dry from wearing the gag all night.

"I'll get you a drink of water!" Johnny dashed off, not waiting to even start on untying the ropes, to Takumi's annoyance.

A minute later, Johnny was back with a glass of water. He held it to his brother's lips, allowing the little boy to first sip then gulp the water until the glass was empty.

"Get me out of this!" Takumi was using his anger to try to cover his fear. Johnny didn't waste any more time but immediately began the slow task of untying all of the bindings which he'd used to restrain his little brother.

Once Takumi was freed from the chair, he stood and rubbed his chafed wrists while Johnny untied the rope from around his waist so Takumi was at last completely free.

Johnny slowly wound the rope up into a neat coil while staring contritely at Takumi.

Takumi was doing nothing more than trying to stop his trembling. He had to maintain his brave, defiant image. He just had to.

Then Johnny put down the rope and, approaching his little brother said, in the most heartfelt tones he could manage, "I'm so sorry, Takumi." He hugged Takumi hard, who broke down in tears at once.

"You didn't come." Takumi's voice was a strangled squeak. "You left me tied up all night!"

Then Takumi realised something. Johnny was crying too, his shoulders heaving with sobs as he realised he'd betrayed his little brother's trust.

Takumi put his arms around his big brother and hugged back. He waited a minute.

Then he drew back his little foot and kicked Johnny in the shin, hard.

"That's for leaving me tied up all night!" declared the little boy as Johnny hopped around on one foot, clutching his injured shin while ejaculating appropriate sounds of distress.

"I didn't mean it! It was an accident," moaned Johnny, sitting down suddenly, the better to hold onto his pained limb. "I'll make it up to you."

"How?" Takumi sounded as though he was willing to consider offers.

Johnny rubbed his shin as the pain faded.

"I'll take you to O'Leary's Burgers later. I'll pay."

"How?"

"My birthday money."

"Weren't you saving that for a new memory card?"

"Yeah. I was."

Takumi considered the offer for only a moment. With such strong evidence that his big brother still loved him, what was a little brother to do? A grin split Takumi's face.

"Yeah. Deal!"

Darren and Darrin

The tale of how a strange but loving relationship begins between an older scout and a young tenderfoot.

1,750 words (3½ pages)
Darren (11yo) and Darrin (17yo)
tb – cons mast oral – bond

Darren lay as still as possible, hardly daring to breathe as he heard the tent-flap opening. Darrin had arrived.

The two were named almost identically, but their ages were different. Darren was only an eleven year old Tenderfoot Scout, while Darrin was seventeen and a junior leader of the troop to which Darren belonged.

Darren listened to Darrin moving around the tent. Darren could not see the older boy because of the sleeping bag zipped up over his head. Still he lay motionless, trying not to reveal his presence. That would come all too soon.

There was no chance for Darren to run away. He couldn't possibly escape even from the sleeping bag let alone from the tent in his current condition. The ropes binding his arms and legs were tight and the knots were both secure and out of his reach. The older boys who had tied him and left him here were, after all, experienced scouts and experts in knot-tying.

From the noises, Darren guessed that Darrin was changing into whatever he slept in – widely rumoured to be nothing more than briefs. Darren guessed he was about to find out if the rumour was true or not. He shivered. Any second now 3;

Darren was watching the tiny chink of light from the hurricane lamp through the small gap where the zipper ended when the light suddenly moved as Darrin took hold of the zip to unfasten it. Darren almost squealed, although the amount of noise he could make was severely limited by the wet rag stuffed into his mouth and held firmly in place by another cloth tied around his head, gagging him securely.

The zip was pulled down and the sleeping bag was opened.

"What the heck 3;?" Darrin stared in astonishment at the bound and gagged Darren for a moment.

Then Darrin burst out laughing. Darren blushed crimson in embarrassment. Darrin had to have seen it 3; The sleeping bag no longer covered Darren's bound, naked body and his rampant erection had to be clearly visible to Darrin in the light cast from the hurricane lamp. The question was, what would the older boy do now?

Darren lay still as Darrin stared at the bound, naked and excited boy, chuckling as he leaned forward and unfastened the gag. Then Darrin pulled the damp rag out of Darren's mouth.

"I have some questions." Darrin grinned as Darren remained quiet, not knowing what to say.

"First, are you okay?" Darren nodded as Darrin continued, "You're not in any pain?" A shake of Darren's head reassured the older boy.

"Second question: Did you volunteer for this?" Darren blushed even harder as he nodded briefly, hoping that Darrin would understand.

From his next question, it seemed that the older boy did understand.

"Do you want to sleep with me, tonight?"

A vigorous nodding of Darren's head was accompanied by a quiet but forceful answer.

"Yes!"

Darrin grinned and stood up for a moment, allowing Darren to confirm the rumours, then Darrin slid the briefs down his legs, exposing his average-sized manhood to Darren's excited gaze.

"It seems to me that since you're naked, I should be, too."

Darrin blew out the hurricane lamp and slid his body into the sleeping-bag next to Darren, zipping it closed against the chill night air.

"I don't think I want you gagged again. It's too dangerous if we're both going to sleep tonight, but there's another reason too. Try to guess it."

Darrin kissed Darren right on the mouth. Paused. Then kissed again. This time the younger boy returned the kiss.

"Good guess."

Darrin took hold of the young boy's erection, his seductive grin barely visible in the scant illumination provided by the moonlight peeping through the bottom of the tent flap.

"Shall I?"

"Please!" It was a plea not for cessation but for the opposite.

Darrin began, gently at first, to masturbate the eager youngster, slowly and deliberately increasing the boy's excitement.

To Darren, it felt like he must have died and gone to Heaven. The feelings from Darrin's massaging hand were glorious! This felt so much better than doing it himself! Darren closed his eyes and sighed with sexual pleasure, concentrating as hard as he could on the feelings Darrin was causing him to experience.

Rapidly, the sexual pleasure built up until Darren could feel that lovely pre-orgasmic tension building in his loins. Then, Darrin's hand suddenly stopped, bringing a moan of protest to the young boy's lips.

"No, don't stop! Keep going!"

A quiet chuckle from Darrin.

"And what are you going to do about it if I don't?"

Darren was aghast. No! Darrin couldn't just stop. Not now! Darren was helplessly bound. He would be unable to satisfy his urgent need to climax! The look of pleading shock and betrayal on Darren's face was visible to Darrin now that his eyes had adapted to the dim light. The older boy chuckled again.

"Oh, don't worry, I'll make you squirt. Just not yet. It'll feel better that way." Darrin resumed masturbating Darren, making the youngster gasp as the pleasure again began to build.

A second time, Darren was brought close to that glorious release, but again he was left frustrated when Darrin ceased stimulating the boy right at the crucial moment, denying him his climax. Darren groaned as his excitement once again faded from lack of stimulation. Then Darrin's hand began the process again.

Over and over Darrin drove Darren almost to the peak of sexual excitement only to stop each time. Poor Darren was weeping with frustration.

"It will be worth it. Believe me, all of this will be worth it in the end."

Darrin's quiet, reassuring whisper was the only thing Darren had to hold onto in his distress. He so badly wanted his orgasm but, bound securely as he was, Darren was totally at the mercy of the older boy. He didn't want to wait. He didn't want to endure this frustrating series of denials, but he had no choice.

Darren knew he had not even the slightest shadow of a choice. Darrin was in total control of Darren's body and all the helpless young boy could do was endure the sexual torment forced upon him while trusting that Darrin was telling the truth and that the future result would be worth his present torture.

Frustrated almost beyond endurance, Darren could only moan and weep as Darrin continued to repeatedly stimulate the young boy almost to climax, then stop just long enough for the boy to retreat from the edge of orgasm before beginning the cycle over again.

Darren began to sob as his latest cessation in stimulation caused his impending orgasm to once again retreat into horrifically frustrating denial.

"It's almost time. Hang on."

Darrin's reassuring whisper helped Darren to hold onto his sanity as once again he was brought almost to orgasm only to have it denied him.

Now sobbing unashamedly from the frustration, Darren heard Darrin's whisper.

"It's time."

Darrin slid down in the sleeping bag and his head came level with Darren's groin then, to the amazement of the youngster who had never heard of such a thing, took his straining little member into the warm embrace of Darrin's suctioning mouth.

Darrin's tongue began to play over the head of Darren's cocklet, teasing and exciting the little organ. Then Darrin's tongue began rapidly rubbing over the tiny glans as the older boy's head bobbed back and forth, deliberately providing the maximum possible stimulation for Darren's eager lust.

Darren knew that this time, he wasn't going to be denied. This time, he would finally get the release he wanted so badly. And yet he realised, this would mean squirting that stuff he produced right into Darrin's mouth! Surely the older boy wouldn't want that stuff in his mouth. Desperately, Darren tried to hold off his climax while he warned the older boy.

"I- I'm gonna 3;"

"Mm mmm. Mmm mm mm."

Darrin couldn't talk with his mouth fully occupied with stimulating Darren's penis, but his tone said, quite clearly, 'I know. Just do it.'

Darren understood the meaning and gave up the struggle.

It took only seconds for Darren to climax, and oh boy, what a climax!

Glorious! Fantastic! Heavenly! Wonderful! Darren couldn't think of a word strong enough to describe how good it felt as he climaxed more powerfully than he'd ever done in his life. Spurt after spurt shot from his pulsing dick into Darrin's mouth as the older boy continued his eager stimulation of the younger boy's sex.

Spent at last, Darren relaxed, only then realising that he'd arched his back during his climax to push his eager organ deeper into Darrin's willing mouth.

Darrin slowly sucked out the last few drops of Darren's semen as the shocked boy realised where the liquid must have gone.

Darrin released Darren's softening penis and slid back up the sleeping bag until his head was next to Darren's again. Darren couldn't believe it. He just had to ask.

"Did you swallow that stuff?"

"Uh-huh. Didn't want you to make a mess in the sleeping bag." With a mischievous grin.

"But 3;" began Darren.

"That stuff's harmless," broke in Darrin, "and it doesn't taste much of anything, so why not?"

Darren lay still (not that he had a lot of choice since he was still securely bound) and thought.

After a few minutes thought, Darren realised he was drowsy, but he wanted an answer to another question before he slept.

"Do you want me to do that 3; to you?"

The older boy cuddled Darren and then kissed him again, which was immediately returned.

"I'd love it, but I don't want you to do it if you feel like you have to. Only do it if you really want to. Let's sleep on it. If you feel like you want to try it after, we can do it in the morning before breakfast."

Darren nodded and relaxed, but by the time sleep claimed him, he had already made his decision. Darren only hoped he could do half as good a job on Darrin as Darrin had done on him.

The two scouts slept peacefully together, Darren and Darrin, one still bound helplessly in ropes, but both of them bound together by passion and, perhaps too, by love.

The Slaves' Excuse

A pair of young runaway slaves have an unusual excuse for their disobedience.

1,500 words (3 pages)
Two slaves (8 and 10yo)
Mb – slave ref. to oral and anal – ref. to spank

To say that I was furious might have been over-stating the matter, but I was certainly angry as my servants brought the two chained escapees before me.

Slaves trying to escape, especially 'temps' like these two, was a rare event. They had offered themselves to me for a five-year term in exchange for a sum of money large enough to set their father up in business, and so of course I had never expected them to try to renege on the deal.

Since at eight and ten years old, the two boys were still quite young, I'd given them easy jobs as kitchen-hands under the direction of my cook, but after a little more than two months, the boys had 'turned up missing' as the saying goes, and had eventually been recaptured only a short distance away. Oddly, they were still on the grounds of my estate and not all that far away despite having had plenty of time to get further away.

This incongruity piqued my curiosity enough that I had decided to question them carefully first, instead of following the expected routine of simply having them stripped, bound and soundly whipped before putting them back to work in chains.

For convenience as well as for intimidation, both boys had been stripped before being brought to me since a whipping was practically inevitable. Now they knelt before me with tear-stained faces while the younger of the two still wept in fear. In his agitated state, it was unlikely that he would be able to put together a coherent reply to my questions so I concentrated my attention on the elder of the two.

"I'm giving you one chance to explain your actions, if you can," I told him, sternly. "Your next words will determine just how severely you – and your brother – will be whipped."

The elder boy gasped, taking my meaning at once. He raised his shackled wrists pleadingly to me as he spoke.

"Master, please punish me, not my brother! It was my idea 3;!"

"It doesn't matter whose idea it was," I quickly cut him off. "Both of you escaped, and so both of you will be punished. You still haven't answered my question. Why did you run away? Why did you try to rob me of your services? Surely you realise that now I have the right to demand the immediate repayment of all of the money I paid to your father? Knowing that; why? That is my simple question: Why?"

The boys glanced at each other, guilty looks on both their faces and I sensed that it was more than just the shame of trying to get out of a deal they had both willingly made. There was some other motivation at work here, and I wanted to know what it was. I sat down in a chair and patiently waited, staring at the boy sternly so he would know that I still expected him to answer me.

After a minute, I saw the resolve to tell the truth enter the boy's eyes and he momentarily dropped his head. Good. I already intended to order the lightest whipping which I could justify for both boys, but a truthful explanation of their actions might allow me to justify an even lighter whipping than I had planned.

"We 3;" the boy hesitated a moment before starting again. "We heard about you 3; and Justin."

Justin? What had he to do with this? I remembered Justin of course. Only twelve years old when he entered my service as a 'temp', but he was a desperately horny youngster who had been both eager and willing to please me in the bedroom. It was a permitted use for a slave.

Justin had left my service, with a nice bonus over and above the amount I had paid to his family, only a few months before these two had offered themselves to me. I missed him. But surely this lad could not be saying 3;?

"We 3; wanted to try it, too 3;" the boy hesitantly continued as I listened in astonishment. The boy had said 'we,' yet his brother was only eight while he himself was only ten. Surely he couldn't be serious?

" 3;but we didn't get a chance to ask, on that first day, and after that, we never even saw you at all. We thought you'd forgotten all about us 3; that 3; you didn't want us after all 3;" The boy was weeping again as he spoke.

"We weren't trying to escape 3; we were trying to get to you 3; to talk to you and ask you if 3; if 3;"

The boy's voice trailed off into helpless sobs. He seemed to think that my astounded look meant that there was no hope of either mercy or the granting of their desires.

Realising that my mouth was hanging open, I quickly closed it and thought deeply as I stared at my weeping slave boys.

The only real difference between permanent and temporary slaves was exactly that: The first was permanent and had no release date, while the temporary slave had a scheduled release date. It was permitted and usual to deal with both in exactly the same way, even to the extent of executing the slave if the master felt it was appropriate. If I desired to take these two to bed with me, it would be unusual at their age, but not unheard of. Should either or both suffer injuries due to my 'attentions' in bed, the only consequences to me would be from the loss of their more everyday services.

I knew several masters who would not have hesitated to indulge themselves and would have simply taken it as their due, but I was none of those. I had been poor, many years ago, and had even served a short term as a slave in my youth, the proceeds of which had started me on the road to my current position of wealth and power. The memory of my treatment during that time served to remind me that I was no better than these boys and had no right to use them callously no matter what the law permitted.

I must have been reflecting my thoughts in my facial expressions and both slaves had read them, since the boys had ceased to weep and were now staring at me with hopeful looks. I sighed. It seemed that I needed to make a decision.

"Perhaps you are not aware that if I do what you ask, it will be incredibly painful for you, at least at first? Especially for the younger one." I turned my head, looking at the little mite warningly, although in truth I had no intention of trying to force entry into his rear passage if I felt he would be injured by the process.

A little bolder now, the older boy replied, "Justin said you 3; helped him 3; with stretching, and although it hurt at first, it felt fantastic when 3; when you 3;" he blushed then lowered his head, unable to continue from embarrassment.

It occurred to me that the younger boy was unlikely to be harmed by a careful fingering of his immature prostate, and also that he had a lovely little mouth. My cock jumped at the thought.

"Justin is a little blabbermouth who had no right to speak to you of such things," I teased, careful to allow a tone of amusement into my voice so the boy would know that I was not completely serious. "You realise, I hope, that I still must punish you for running away, even if I give you what you've asked for?"

Both boys nodded and the older replied, "Yes, master," with a shudder of fear.

"Although," I continued, "I don't have to allow anyone else that pleasure, and you might enjoy our bedroom activities more with sore behinds to spur on your compliance."

Both boys looked at me anxiously, and I waited just a moment before allowing a small smile to quirk the corners of my mouth.

"Yes, master!" they chorused in unison as they bowed themselves before me in submission with ill-concealed smiles creasing their faces. They were obviously aware that although I would certainly whip them, a 'bedroom whipping' was not the same thing at all as a 'punishment whipping' regardless of there being no legal distinction between the two.

I sent them back to the kitchens to work until bed-time and both boys behaved as though they were going to bed early on Christmas Eve so as to wake up all the sooner. I would hardly have been surprised had they skipped out of the room in spite of their chains. The elder boy was already displaying prominent evidence of his anticipation. I looked forward to giving that prominence the attention it was begging for.

Two eager, healthy young boys in my bed at once? How could I cope with that?

I intended to try, hard.

Very hard, indeed.