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    Lugh
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Forever Boy - 6. Chapter 6

I panicked for a few minutes. I was totally alone. Then a voice spoke from behind me. “The young ones have chosen well.” He touched me. His fingers pulled on my nipple piercings. He touched my cock, the peircing there. “Interesting adornments for a boy.” He whispered near my ear. “Present.”

My body responded to the command although my mind resisted it. His entry was rough. A crowd gathered. I felt as if he were tearing me in two. I maintained my composure though and did not cry out. He fucked me for a very long time, my body trembled from the need to release, but the twin impediments would not allow it. He grasped my hips and thrust into me the full length of his cock, withdrew and entered me again. When he grunted out his climax I felt like collapsing, but his words were clear. “Display”.

Trembling, my body responded. I felt his cum drip from my rear. He pulled the object out of my cock and released the ring that was holding back my climax. My fluids escaped into his hand. He laughed then smeared my fluids in my face.

“Forever boy.” He laughed, the crowd laughed. I stayed on display for a very long time, my face covered in my cum, my arse raw, his cum pooled where it dripped. My cock raw. It was the first time that I felt abused since the night I lost my virginity. The day grew cooler and my Master did not return. The crowd thinned, still no Master for me. I began to fear I had been forgotten.

“Stand” a voice came from behind me. I stood. A leash was attached to my collar and I was led away from the place I last felt my Master. It was a long walk. At stairs, we went up, then in a door and up again. The one who led me knocked on a door and it opened. I was led to the bed and told up. I climbed on and I felt the restraints on my arms and legs snapped to restraints on the bed. I was laying spread eagle belly up. Over the next few weeks, I was not allowed far from this bed. It was better than the cage I suppose, but I missed my Master’s hand. I missed his smell, his taste. My body was an object here, to be used and abused as they deemed fit. Individual sessions run together, the edges blur, and I’m not sure how many people I served…. Of them all, only one stands out in my memory.

I was alone, for once, when I heard the door open. The footsteps were light, and the weight on the bed was light as well. When he touched me, his hand was small. He touched every inch of my body that was exposed. I felt his cock on my lips and I opened my mouth. His cock and sack were less than a mouthful, but I sucked. He gasped and stroked my cock with his hands, kissing the head. His body stiffened and I knew he was orgasming. I wanted to hold him, to touch him, to teach him how to take a man, but my hands were secured. He never said a word to me but would come often after the house was quiet, if I was alone. Often after he orgasmed he would sleep, his cock nestled in my mouth and I would suck him off and on until he woke and left. He seemed to really like this and sometimes returned the favor.

Eventually he decided he wanted more from me and loosened one of my hands. “Touch me” was his command. And I did, every inch of him. I stroked his back as I sucked his cock and brushed his arse with my fingers. He gasped the first time I did this, and I stopped. He said, “No… don’t stop.” I was a little confused, but he took my hand and pressed it to his arse. Very gently, I pressed one finger to his hole. He shook and buried his face in my groin, but did not tell me not to proceed. One finger entered him. I knew from his size he was too small for this, but he was *master* and I was to obey.

Over the next little while he allowed me to finger fuck him as I sucked him. This seemed to please him, so I did it. The others who came to me for servicing never cared about me… Never asked me if it felt good or bad, they just did as they pleased and expected me to pleasure them. Over time, he was able and willing to accept two fingers. He would lay with his head on my shoulder while I fingered him, moan, and writhe… How I wanted this boy as my own. I wanted to teach him. I wanted to fuck him.

Sometimes he would talk. He was the same age I was when I began to serve my Master. He told me he remembered me. That it had been his first trip with his Father to choose a slave for his brother. My Master had wanted me something awful because he paid an outrageous fee for me — his total earnings from the trip — all of it. The boy said he wanted a Master who wanted him as badly as mine had wanted me. I wanted to ask about my Master, but I knew it was not allowed. He also told me he would be going to his Master soon that my Master had agreed to train him. We would be brothers, he and I. He said he watched me every year, and every year he asked his Father if I could be his, but his father refused. Then he whispered… “But I have you now, and you are my first, so I will always be yours, just as you will always be your Masters.” The whole time he spoke, I fucked him with my fingers. He enjoyed this as much as I did.

Soon he was bringing things to pleasure me, things to fuck my cock with. “I remember how much you liked this.” He would insert it and fuck me slowly while I fingered him. We would laugh together. One night he came and he was upset. He loosened my hands and lay on me. I held him tightly, but didn’t ask what was wrong. He would tell me. Finally, he got it out. His birthday was tomorrow and his Master, my Master, our Master…. would be coming to take him. He backed down until his arse touched my cock. “Fuck me” he said.

I wanted to say no. You’re too little. I wanted to protest and say I couldn’t. But I felt his tears on my chest. I stroked his back and asked for the oil. He handed it to me. “Present” I whispered. And his arse was by my hand. I applied the oil to my fingers then to him. He shuddered under my touch… one finger, then two. He rode them easy. I reached down and undid my feet from the restraints. He didn’t say a word. I positioned him with the blankets under him for support. I kissed his back and his shoulders. He told me to fuck him. I slid my fingers out and pressed my cock to his arse. I heard him cry out as the piercing pushed past his first ring. I held still for a minute so he could get used to the size and I could get used to being in him. I pulled him to me and used his weight to slide my shaft further in him. Oh, how I wanted him. I reached around to give him some pleasure; his cock was stiff in my hand. Slowly I fucked him. Slowly I took his innocence. Willingly he gave it to me, just as I had given it to my Master. When I came, he gasped. Still buried in him I pulled him to me and we lay, joined. We slept… Sometime early, we woke. He pulled off me, crying out as he did so. Then he thanked me for fucking him. He kissed my mouth and our tongues touched. He was so small. He called me brother and reconnected my bonds, and then he left me. I wanted him. I wanted his touch, almost as much as I wanted my Master back again. He never came again. A few days later, I was led out of the house and put into the trunk of a car. I was getting a new Master. I was nude except for the hood, I was gagged in case I wanted to protest. I was restrained in the event I tried to flee. Then I felt something sharp in my arm and my world became fuzzy. I was being drugged.

Copyright © 2010 Lugh; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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