This is the darkest fantasy I have written. It may not be everyone's cup of tea. It contains not only graphic male to male sex, but some restraint, and also some mind control.
It is entirely fantasy and does not represent any real person or event. The author never condones nonconsensual sex! If such writing is illegal where you are, if you are underage, or if you would be offended by gay erotica, then don't read it! Practice safe sex. And if you like this, email me and tell me what turns you on.
THE HAREM
By Kevin Donovan
I had just turned nineteen when I entered the harem. My college career had not gone well. Toward the end, I gravitated toward the night life. Before long, my extracurricular activities became all-consuming, and I dropped my classes. I became a full-time boy of the evening. Then I met Joel, and I entered a whole new dimension, a world I had not known existed. It happened like this.
Joel picked me up in a bar, where I was pretty openly surveying the clientele for possibilities. I was free-lancing, though the use of my lance was far from free. I would fuck anything, male or female, young or old, for cash, Visa, or Mastercard. If you are blessed with a fantastic body and a face that stops traffic, both sexes, you have to be aware of that fact. Why not use it to advantage, I've always reasoned. And then if you have a large, smooth, straight and perfectly proportioned cock and an insatiable sexual appetite, that helps to settle the question of how you will capitalize on your natural endowments. I once saw a T-shirt that proclaimed its wearer "Born Hard." That describes me pretty accurately. Getting it up has never been my problem, nor has modesty ever held me back. I did some modeling-- fashion, art, and nude. (I had problems with the art work, though, in that I couldn't keep my erection down for long.) Mostly, I hustled, not just for money, but also because I enjoyed it. Sex was my art form and my own body was the medium with which I worked.
Joel was a guy I would have probably have approached myself, but he was the one who made the move on me. He slipped onto a barstool next to me and ordered Glenlivet. I glanced his way, and he gave me a nod.
"How about you?" he asked, "Ready for another?"
I accepted, and he bought me a drink. All I knew about Joel at the time was that he was handsome, expensively dressed, thirty-something, and polished. He was a little taller than I am, maybe 6'1. He had a lean, strong-jawed model's face, a mouth full of glorious and expensive teeth, and steely gray eyes like magnets. His hair was sandy, immaculately groomed, his skin perfectly tanned. He exuded an aroma of aristocratic sensuality.
I don't know how Joel picked me up. I don't remember striking a bargain with him. I have no recollection of leaving the bar or getting into his Jaguar. The next thing I knew I was smoking a fresh joint, one of his, sitting in the passenger seat of his car, my eyes glued to his profile. Stopping at a traffic light, he loosened his belt, opened his fly, (no underwear) and took out his cock. "Blow it." It was not a request or a suggestion. Yet he spoke so gently, so confidently. There was no possibility of disobeying him. I leaned over and took his dick into my mouth.
I remember the aroma of the dry cleaning chemicals in his trousers. I remember, and I have since learned well, his own manly scent. I remember noticing that he had used a seductive fragrance all over his body; even his crotch was cologned. Joel is a stickler for detail, and he is never caught unprepared for anything. He is the most controlling and the most self-controlled person I have ever encountered. His dick began to swell within my mouth. Quickly, it reached an impressive length and girth rivaling my own. I deep- throated him expertly as he caressed the back of my mane gently. The well-defined ridge of his cock head passed back and forth across my tonsils. He made no sound of pleasure or enjoyment. I knew I was giving him a suck-off to ejaculate the dead. Yet he did not come. We drove, and I sucked.
When we arrived at Joel's house, I did not know where we were, as my gaze had been riveted upon his scrotum the whole trip. His nice, manly balls rolled easily within a big, loose, lightly furred bag. My joint had long ago burned to a cinder unsmoked in his ashtray, acting merely as an incense stick. I raised up to see why we had stopped, and took note of the magnificent contemporary mansion before us. An automatic gate clanked shut behind us, enclosing us within a high fence mostly hidden by trees and shrubs. An enormous security guard lurked near the gate. "Let's go," Joel said, fastening his slacks.
He punched numbers into the security panel and we entered the front foyer, a spacious and impressive marbled space with striking statuary, all male nudes in Grecian style, and bright splashes of modern art pieces here and there on the walls. The place screamed "money." We moved within, past large, well-decorated but sparsely furnished rooms, branching off hallways, enclosed atria. In one of the inner garden courts, I saw a handsome and shapely young Oriental man, stark naked, on hands and knees, weeding. He stood and actually acknowledged his master with a bowed head.
"One of the gardeners," Joel said softly.
"He works naked?" I asked. "Umh," was his response. The next courtyard held a pool, all deep water a dark, cold blue reflecting the cobalt painted sides and bottom. Another young man, also naked, was checking the pH with a set of small vials. He also stood and bowed his head to Joel.
"Kevin," said Joel. "Meet--what is your name?"
"Erik."
"I want you to pleasure him, Kevin. I find he amuses me."
Kevin set his pool testing equipment on a table nearby and moved toward me, a small but enticing smile on his regularly-featured face. My eyes took him in quickly. He stood 5'10", slender, my own age, and very cute. His curly brown hair gave him a Celtic, cherubic look. He was clean shaven and, below the chin, the only trace of hair was a little swath of pubes above his plump, well-formed dick. Later, in our embracing, I felt the stubble of his legs and chest. He would have had some hair, but it had been removed.
Kevin stood before me with poise, looking right at me with what seemed like anticipation. He matter-of-factly began to unbutton my shirt, helping me out of it. Then he unfastened my trousers, and they dropped to my ankles. I stepped out of them and my loafers at the same time. Kevin eyed my calendar-boy chest and abs and the taut pouch of my string briefs. His smile widened and his eyebrows rose. What a cute guy! I slid the briefs down on my own and kicked them off beside my pants. I normally got paid for this, I realized; this time, I would be lucky to get off without being presented a bill myself. Taking in Kevin's expanding cock, I considered that it might be worth it.
Kevin took my hand and led me over to a flat chaise. I took the hint and lay down on my back. Kevin did not go straight for my crotch. Instead, he began to caress me, face, chest, abdomen, thighs. His hands were smooth and practiced. He nibbled gently at my tits, my Adam's apple, my navel. My cock, I realized, had been hard from the first sight of him. Now his hands began to caress its meaty nine-inch length as well. His touch was so light it both tickled and massaged at the same time. My eyes closed, my mouth opened in a groan of pleasure as Kevin's lip's descended from my navel down the little track of brown hairs to the root of my upright member. By the time he took the head of it into his mouth, I had forgotten everything except the ecstasy of his wet mouthing. When my moans told him I was about to explode, he pulled back and milked me manually to let Joel witness the eruption. My jizz shot in a great streaming arc over my belly and chest, striking me on the chin, throat, and armpit. Kevin gently pulled the last of the load out of my dark dick onto my lower belly. I sighed, stretched, and rolled my head sideways. Now I saw that the entire performance had been for the benefit not of me but of Joel. He had slipped out of his clothing and now sat naked on another nearby chaise, watching us closely as he stroked his own big dick. He still hadn't come, though.
Just because I was on stage didn't mean I couldn't enjoy my own performance. It actually turned me on to have Joel watch. I leaned over toward Kevin, reaching for his dick, running my hand up his thigh. I had exercised my mouth pretty thoroughly on Joel's big sausage, but after meeting Kevin I was ready for another helping. If Joel wanted to watch...
"Not yet," came his firm, inviolable command. "I'll tell you when you can have it. First I want to reward my servant. Roll over." I rolled onto my stomach. "Now Kevin, that side is yours."
I had some concern about not being douched in case Kevin had any ideas about fucking me. But at first, he just caressed, massaged, tongued, and body-rubbed my entire backside. Again, Joel watched and massaged his own dick. I was lulled into semi- slumber. Suddenly, I felt cool metal snap onto my ankles and my wrists at the same time. They were clamped also to the metal legs of the chaise, Joel at my feet and Kevin at my hands. I was trapped. I muttered an incomprehensible protest.
But Kevin, smiling now more mischievously as he knelt before me, passed his crotch enticingly right under my nose. His dick firmed under my breath. As I stared into his groin, he leaned over and kissed me. "Don't worry," he said softly. "You'll like it here." Before I could ponder over his meaning, he returned his attention to the back of my neck and points south with his tongue, lips, teeth, and caressing hands. I found myself incapable of struggling, though I really thought at the time that I might not survive this night. Somehow, it didn't really matter in the face of that pleasure. He was that good.
In a moment, Kevin's mouth was latched onto my funky asshole like a lamprey eel. He slobbered it up really good, and stuck his tongue inside. He had some lube cream from nowhere, and he lubed my hole thoroughly. Then he paused, and stepped back for Joel to take his place. Joel, still hard, knelt between my knees, leaned forward bracing on his extended hands, and directed his missile at my target. Kevin reached in and guided it gently but accurately for my asshole. With his help, Joel lowered his hips and thrust into me.
My sphincter stretched suddenly, but it was amply lubed, and I soon felt very good sensations even though Joel is hung large. Joel fucked me masterfully for ten or fifteen minutes. Then he pulled out, still hard and unejaculated, and let Kevin have a go. Kevin was inflated to full hard-on still, just from watching. He slid right in where Joel had left off, but more gently and more aware, it seemed, of his own sensation. In a few minutes, he pulled out, too, and jacked off onto my backside so that Joel could see, just like in the porn flicks.
Joel's response astonished me. He flew into a rage. "You've been jerking off again, wasting seed," he roared. Kevin's load spewed onto my butt was not abundant enough for him. He open-handed Kevin across the jaw hard, knocking him backward onto the decking. He stood over him angrily. "You'll work the bar this week." "And you," he said coldly and quietly, "You might as well learn to obey, too. You do what I say, and you eat, rest, and receive pleasure. Cross me, and you pay for it. It is that simple. You'll start in the bar with Kevin. After a few days, we'll see if you deserve better treatment."
I was mortified, uncomprehending. I could not see all that was happening behind my back, but in a moment a syringe plunged into my buttock. My mind swam into a fog. Dimly I was aware of my restraints being removed, but I was powerless to move. I knew that Kevin carried me away somewhere, but then I blacked out completely for an indeterminate time.
I awoke on a cot in a cement cell, lying on my back on a bare mattress. When I moved, I felt my dick pull away from me strangely. I raised my head and looked. The loose foreskin of my limp dick was pierced by a silver ring by which a silver chain held me to another ring on the ceiling above the cot. I was tethered by my own dick. I dozed off again.
When the key turned in the lock, I awoke. A naked man, a new one, black and twenty-ish, was entering with a small tray. He knelt beside me and greeted me. His smile revealed a wide swath of dazzling teeth. Like everyone else here, he was fit, hung, and gorgeous looking. His name was Lysander. He was Barbadian.
It was Lysander who explained some of the mysteries of the harem to me. My new master, Joel, was a successful urologist who also ran a fertility clinic on the side. But he had his hand in many other pies as well, all of which brought in gobs of money, several of which were on the edge of legality and over the edge of morality. He had several burlesque clubs, mostly gay places. He had porn interests. He ran a hustling ring, male prostitutes, mostly in Nevada but sometimes crossing the state line. The harem was his special household, his personal playground, which he stocked with very carefully chosen and trained young men. I had become one of the favored ones. I would be disciplined and molded, but I could also be very pampered.
The rules were strict. Right now I was on clear broth and a tether until I proved my obedience dancing at one of the clubs. (I would soon discover on my own that sleep deprivation would be part of the regimen there as well.) Later, my diet and exercise would be carefully monitored to keep me fit and healthy but, like everything else in Joel's world, it would be of the highest quality.
I would be assigned some area of household duty to keep me occupied. I would have the full run of the house except for Joel's private apartments. I would enjoy the camaraderie of my fellows. But I was never to wear clothing of any sort unless it was part of a costume for one of my assignments. I was to keep myself toned, buffed, and well groomed at all times, which might include careful shaving of body hair according to Joel's exacting specs and even whims. I was to be able to produce a hard-on at any moment. And most of all, as I had witnessed with the unfortunate Kevin, all the semen I could produce was understood to be the property of Joel, who had a fixation on jizz. He allowed himself one and only one ejaculation per week, and it was an abundant one, as I came to know well, as I was often the one permitted to produce it. I could ejaculate more, but only in his presence and/or at his command. He monitored carefully all of our jizz production like a dairy farmer monitors his cows.
I was permitted all the romance I wanted with my fellow inmates, just no actual sex. That was reserved for paying customers or for Joel.
Kevin and one other guy, Jason--eighteen, a lanky farm-boy from Oklahoma, lean, tanned, a hard-muscled outdoor type--rode with me in the back of the Mercedes over to the club where we were to work for the week. Kevin was philosophical. This had happened to him before, and he was confident he could work his way back into Joel's good graces. Jason was sulky and despondent, clearly suffering from a rebellious attitude. All three of us were still naked, all on those odd silver leashes fastened to our cocks. Obviously, we could have broken them with our bare hands, but we didn't even consider doing so. It was past midnight, and there was little traffic out. We arrived at the back of the building and were led straight inside, up a flight of steps, and down a hallway to a holding cell which already contained three other guys, with more rotating in every few minutes, of all complexions, though all were young, slender, naked, and sexy. Our dick rings were clipped onto the wall above our bunks, and we were left there. The cell became our home and refuge for the week. But we were also out of it a lot.
The setup worked like this: Down the hallway, there was a long room with six holes in the floor, each with a pole in the center. They led to the bar top straight downstairs. So four to six of us had to be dancing on that bar at all times, twenty-four hours a day. A big brute of a guy in boots and leather chaps and g-string, nothing else, would come and take down our leash, lead us to a pole, attach the leash to the edge of the floor opening, and down we would slide into the spotlight, chained now to the ceiling above. Some guys were given white socks to wear to cover up large or unsightly feet. Not Kevin or me, though--we were starkers the whole time, except for a garter around the calf into which the customers tucked cash. This was a private and unlicensed club, with a select and well-heeled clientele.
My first time down, I was not much of a dancer in the beginning. I just twitched around, squinting at the shapes of the audience members, watching the bartenders, both big black guys in tight leather jeans and muscle shirts, serve the customers. I could see the ones at the bar clearly, mostly middle-aged businessmen types. They stared up at me with lust, curiosity, and interest as fresh meat. A few called out obscene and supposedly cute comments. Most were silent and anonymous. The music blared.
The other dancers knew what they were doing. They thrust and hunched seductively and nursed hard-ons carefully, which they allowed favored customers to feel in exchange for tips. For me, getting hard was a way of life. I gradually caught on to the rest. By the end of my gig I had a little throng of guys gathered around feeling me up. The men were surprisingly gentle with my pierced and tethered cock, almost reverent. They caressed my balls and fingered my asshole with pleasure. It wasn't so bad, really. What made it wearing was the fatigue, loss of sleep, and repetition. I pleased my handler enough to earn a good hot meal after a few sessions. After two days he let me sleep four hours solid once. Other than that, we had a half hour on, an hour off, almost around the clock. But in between performances, we were often called out for private booth, hot tub, or bedroom acts. The club had all three. A customer could pay a fee, highest for the private bedroom, and get his pick of the guys by the half-hour. Our job was to please him, pretty much whatever he wanted. Because I was Joel's special property, I was required to wear a condom and was not allowed to take it up the ass with outsiders. I had my fill of sucking and soaking with overweight middle aged lawyers and tycoons, though. Surprisingly, some just wanted to caress and cuddle. And they gave outstanding tips.
I figured out gradually that most of the other entertainers were regular employees, not "family." They worked a 12 hour shift and then went home. Some blew everything they made on coke. They envied Kev, Jason, and me for being kept, and they worked hard to win the approval of the manager, hoping he would commend them to Joel. Sometimes, that happened, and a club boy got adopted into the household. One effect of this arrangement was that the manager, a thirtyish dude named Jim, not bad looking, and the handler in chaps, and the bartenders all got freebe sexual favors anytime they wanted. They would just come into the staff room, shuck off, pick a guy, and jump him. They never touched the three of us house boys, though. We were clearly off limits.
By the end of five days, Kevin and I were told we had been good boys and were being sent back home. Jason, however, was being demoted; he was out of favor for being "uncooperative" with Joel. (I later learned he had gone straight onto heroin and O.D.ed within the month. I suspect it was a set up to get rid of him. This was after everybody at the club just about fucked him to death as soon as they heard he was no longer under Joel's protection. It motivated me to stay in the master's good graces, I can tell you. Neither Kevin nor I ever went back there.) From my solo gigs as well as my dancing, I had almost $3,000 in tips on my bunk, half of which I was told was mine to keep, a side benefit of being punished. I passed some around to the hourly workers and clutched the rest to myself, having no pockets. It was a tough stint, but I had never earned so much dough before.
We were driven home in one another's arms on the leather seat of the Mercedes. I was given a comfortable room on the second floor, overlooking the courtyard garden with the naked Japanese gardener and just two doors from Kevin. When I woke after a full day of sleeping, the tether was gone from my dick and I was free to explore the mansion. But I had a gold pin in the hole in my foreskin, a little ornament and memento of my stint at the club--and a reminder that the chain could be replaced.
I found out right away that one reason for Joel's obsession with our semen was that he sold it to fertilize women whose men were sterile. On a regular basis I had to jack off into a condom which was then whisked away to a lab. (Once Joel told me smugly that I have 17 babies around, a statement that causes me to look carefully at small children whenever I am out.) One of my fertilizations was "natural." This couple had a problem with technology, odd since they were both physicians themselves. They wanted a baby the old fashioned way, but were unable to do it themselves, so they had Joel send me.
I was dressed in expensive designer clothing for that trip in the Mercedes. When I rang the bell of their fashionable condo at 11:00 p.m., the sterile husband whom I was about to cuckold met me at the door in his robe. He had me undress in the living room, and he looked me over like a horse he was thinking of buying, head to toe. He literally inspected my teeth and felt my testicles. He had already received my medical records. He told me I was not there to woo, but strictly to do my business, he would take care of the foreplay. I shrugged. We went into the bedroom. He got into the far side of the king size bed and I crawled in the other. The object of our affections, a sleek, thirty- ish blonde, was in the middle. They began to make out. I didn't need foreplay to get hard. After a while, he pulled away, and I knew it was time for me to take over. I crawled on top of the wife, entered her, and began to hunch. I didn't try to make her come, sensing that that would give hubby a heart attack. I shot her the cream as quickly as possible and withdrew. As I left the room, I heard him getting on after me. By the time I got dressed, I could hear the melody of their combined orgasms in the background. I went back two more nights in a row, with the same bed routine each time. The third night, though, as I climbed aboard, he began to slather up my asshole with lubricant cream. Then he knelt and entered me from behind while I was fucking her. That spoiled my rhythm and prolonged the whole event, but I liked it more than he could appreciate, since he thought I was strictly straight. I suppose his intent was to humble me as this whole procedure had emasculated him, establish himself as top stud. Anyway, when we were both finished, I left him cuddling his wife protectively. I understand that together we have a girl baby now.
I was also used as a regular call boy or escort for select and favored clients. Most of these were not worth remembering much less mentioning. Totally slam, bam, thank you, man. I can only say that the ability to get and keep a hard on with little or no stimulation was indispensable at those times and made me especially in demand with Joel's pet associates.
I was often singled out for special favors by Joel himself, too. He would ring the phone in my room and give instructions, or he would come across me in my household duties, which at first involved acting as his butler. I managed the dining room, polished the silver, coordinated the serving of meals in the dining room, which consisted of at least 3 dinner parties per week and occasional large gatherings, usually all male. A couple of guys helped wait on the table. We served nude or, on formal occasions, dressed like Chippendale dancers only sans g-string. The chef and his assistant were both retired house boys, past thirty, who still lived in with Joel and were now salaried to serve him. They cooked nude, too.
It was not unusual for Joel (or one of his guests) to encounter any one of us and demand to be serviced on the spot. When he was at home, he went nude also, so this spontaneity was simple. It could go any way, according to his mood. He might demand to suck me and forbid me to come (a tough act for me, but a learned skill), or he might have me suck him. He might fuck me or even have me fuck him. I was not to come in his ass, though, although he occasionally did in mine (a great honor). If he came while I was blowing him, that was a very special honor. He valued his own jizz above all. Of course he used it to impregnate clients also.
Sometimes he summoned me to his apartments. Sex with Joel was always surprisingly fun considering his strictness about so many things. He kept himself in great shape, and he has one of the prettiest dicks I have ever seen. It is smooth and sleek, with length and a substantial girth without seeming gargantuan. It is imminently suckable, yet it can fill an asshole pleasingly as well.
Adjacent to his bedroom, Joel has a private playroom with exercise equipment and various play stations for sex. Mostly, they were for his play, my work, because he had me hanging from trapezes, laid out across bars and barrels, anything to expose my tender parts more effectively to his and his friends' mouths and dicks. If he brought Kevin in, too, though, as happened increasingly often at the request of his buddies, I was always happy to oblige. It got so that Joel and his buddies seemed to really get off on watching Kevin and me make love to one another. And that is exactly what made the difference--we did not just have sex, we made love. Kev and I fell for one another almost from the first day. Joel knew it, but we produced enough jizz to keep him happy and to make him think we were saving it all for him. Mostly, we did, too. When we were alone, we kissed and cuddled, always naked of course because that was our constant condition. We got so that we were experts at giving each other intense and incredibly erotic pleasure with hands, mouths, and various props without penetration and without bringing on ejaculation. Not that it was easy--just looking at Kevin naked, hard, and smiling was almost enough to bring me off spontaneously. Sometimes the ache in my balls to spew was almost painful. But then, I would go to Joel or a client, or if heaven smiled on us, to perform in front of others with Kevin himself, and I would have the most incredible ejaculations of cum by the quart. Then my balls would twinge and ache from the contraction of ejecting all of that semen. It was the same with Joel. After so many sessions of erotic play without cumming, when he did get to let loose, it would be in abundant streams. The spectators would be mightily impressed, and Joel would be pleased and proud of us. So he cut us a lot of slack and, I think, scheduled us to work on each other as often as possible to give us release and a reward for our obedience.
Of course, occasionally, when we thought we could get away with it, we couldn't resist truly making love on our own. When Joel left town for a couple of days, we would spend the entire first night sucking and fucking to our hearts' content, knowing that we would have a day or two to build our supplies back up by the time he returned. To have two partners so much in love, so hot to look at, so constantly horny, and so experienced and skilled in the arts of eroticism, is heaven on earth.
All of this time, my bank account was building. I discovered after I had been in residence for awhile that Joel did not quite practice slavery; he deposited a portion of our earnings in investment accounts for us to have after we left his service, which of course one had to do at least by age thirty. I'm 24 now, and Kevin is 25. When we retire in a few years, (though I must say, we're both still looking mighty good) we'll be very well provided for. We won't be turning tricks, I can tell you.
There are fourteen guys in the harem now, and of course, I've had them all many times, even the newest. I've been tutor to many, sometimes giving private lessons in lovemaking to the ones who arrived with little experience. I can still give Joel a hard-on almost at a glance, though.
Kevin and I don't talk a lot about the future, but we have a plan. When we go, we go together.