The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblances to real people, alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons, in towns, cities, countries, nor governmental areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most state and countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by law. Check with your local laws regarding such. % Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection.
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"For Sale By Owner" 44 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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"Hi guys," Alex says, walking in the front door, making a beeline to the heavenly scent coming from the kitchen. The mail frozen in his hand, he states, "Hey, you're new around here!"
If Alex had known how wasted Devon looked an hour ago, he might have something to compare the three too, not much better off.
"Hi baby!" Kyle says, giving Alex a big hug, lips matching up, an over-forced kiss placed on his lover.
"Yeah, hi baby!" Scott jokes around, doing the same, Alex turning his cheek to Scott's lips.
Seeing the third man just as racked up with alcohol, Alex throws the dare his way, "And you?"
"Hi honey," Jarrett follows through with, puckering up and sweetly kissing Alex on the opposite cheek.
"Hmm... I think I'll go out and come home again!"
"Hungry?" Scott throws his way.
"And thirsty," Alex replies, forcing a smile to his face. "First though I've got to hit the shower and change?"
"Oh boooooooooooooo," Kyle says, taking another sip of his champayne, Scott pouring some into a glass for Alex.
"Um, no thank you. Let's make it water?" Alex replies, deciding to play warden to the three drunk inmates.
Suddenly the phone rings, Alex shouting, "I'll get it!" After talking briefly, Alex returns to 'the zoo'.
"Who was it babe?" Kyle asks, holding Alex's arm, more like Alex keeping him from caving to the floor.
"Trust me. Nobody important," Alex replied, an evil thought after his phone call, thinking how he might just pack the three up in his Blazer and dump them off at David Sonnemaker's kinky little dungeon party tonight!
"Not again!" Alex replies when the phone rings again. Then, cursing out Ian, he says out loud, "I don't know why he ever gave Sonnemaker my phone num... hello!" His semi-anger fading, Alex turns into a different, more compassionate moods, saying, "Oh... oh.... oh.."
"Who's that?" Kyle asks as he flops down on the sofa, taking up the whole length. Alex does a double take, seeing Kyle with his shirt up over his head, pinned behind his neck. Returning his attention to the phone, Alex was torn between the three wild and crazy guys here and another's plight. Kyle's ears perked up when he caught Alex say, "Bring him here? I can't do that Mr. van der Linde. I..."
"Whoever it is, tell him 'sure'," Kyle said in his half-drunk state. "Party time! The more the merrier!"
Alex rolled his eyes at Kyle, but at the same time catered to Mr. van der Linde, listening to his pleas at why he should bring Jason to the townhouse rather than taking the teen, whom just tried to commit suicide, to the hospital.
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"Are you sure this is safe and all, Bill?" Jim Stooksbury inquired, sitting there in the passenger seat of his boss' black PT Cruiser, feeling as though in a hearse headed for the graveyard.
"Calm down Jim. You're not the only boy who is going to be there," Bill replied, turning on the wipers when it started to rain. "Damn! There goes the outside activities."
"Outside? I thought this was all in Sonnemaker's dungeon?" the twenty-one year old replied, still on edge.
"Oh well, what I'm talking about is the 'stripping down' part when we arrive there. Sonnemaker adds quite a lot of fantasy to our roleplaying, you know?"
No, Jim didn't know. In fact, unlike Bill Miller, he's never experienced the kinky roleplay in a group setting. Tonight was supposed to be their first 'training session' at Bill's house, Jim being shown the ropes on how to be the best 'boy' a master could want. Call it fortunate, but Jim at least could get a rundown on some of the possibilites tonight, considering the dozens of times Bill has been to one of these bdsm get togethers.
"I'm nervous, Bill. I really don't think I can get into any of the pain stuff you explained?"
"Like I told you, Jim. We don't get into anything you don't want to do. If you want to do something and it doesn't work out then we stop. All you have to remember is to use your password."
"I know," Jim replied, looking at the dark, creepy landscape go by, made blurry by the rain pounding against his window.
"Besides, you don't think the other boys would keep coming back time after time if we didn't respect the usuage of their passwords?"
"I suppose not," Jim replied, still on edge, but feeling a little more relaxed by Bill's guarantees.
"Um, any of those guys ever get hurt bad?"
"Not unless they wanted to," Bill told.
Gulping, Jim asks, "Like how?"
Shrugging his shoulder, eyes glued to the wet windshield, Bill tells him, "One of the boys made the mistake of claiming no limits when he wasn't ready for it."
"No limits? How's that go?"
"He was okay with using his password on ball torture, but gave away his rights to stop the flogging. His back was really raw and the guy was in some pain I tell you."
"I bet it's the last you saw of him!" Jim exclaimed.
"You would think that."
"No way? He came back for more?"
"Yeah," Bill replied, "and more!"
Rolling his eyes, Jim thought what an idiot this guy was, but then again he wondered if could by chance find himself in the same position if his pulsing cock began to rule his mind.
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"The three of you," Alex said in all serious, "need to get sober or else...."
"What's the matter Alex?" Scott replied with concern, 'suddenly' sobering up.
"I thought you were drunk?" Alex asked, a finger rubbing along his lip, thinking of Scott taking advantage of him.
"Nah. I was just going along with the guys. You know I can handle it. They were having such fun and I wanted to be carried along with them, I suppose."
"Y'know Scott, maybe you should dump the cooking career and become an actor?" Alex put it to him.
"It looks like you have something going on here, so if you take Kyle and I'll handle Jarrett...."
"Yeah, where did he come from?"
"Devon brought him home."
"Devon? Where is Devon?"
"Drunk. He's sleeping it off in the guest room."
With not much time to think, Alex figured on incarcerating all the drunken ones in the same room. "Um, can you like... do them?" Alex asked, regarding their clothes.
"I know you didn't mean it like you said it, Alex," Scott replied with a crafty smile.
"Right," is all Alex said, rushing out of the room, closing Scott in the room.
The kitchen looked like a near disaster area. It seems Scott kept the mess to a minimum, but glasses and empty beer and champayne bottles littered the countertops. Cleaning up quickly was his job at the Coffee Bean, so he was not so inept at making the place look decent. He did comment out loud, "Good thing you're big in the bucks, Kyle," cursing when the whole tray of champayge glasses tilted off the counter.
"What happened?" Scott exclaimed, appearing at the kitchen doorway.
"Help?" Alex said, an appealing look on his face.
Smiling, Scott walked in, going to the broom closet, fetching the cleanup tools.
"Great. Thanks Scott I owe you one. Um, Kyle and the new guy-what's-his-name?"
"Jarrett and 'yes', they are all stripped put to bed. I didn't know whether to match Jarrett up with Kyle or Devon, sooo," Scott wandered off with his wondering of whether to fit Kyle and Jarrett in a separate bed or match up Devon with Jarrett, or another variation.
"I hope you..."
Scott shot out, "I put Jarrett to bed with Devon. I figured that might be your preference."
"You figured right! Um, can you handle the rest of this?"
"The kitchen is my second home!" Scott replied, grabbing the apron from the hook which doubles as a refrigerator magnet.
Alex bounded out of the kitchen, tidying up the livingroom, hiding Kyle's 'boy' magazines under the cushions of the sofa. He did a quick pirouette in the center of the room, making sure everything was copacetic with the layout, not really knowing what to expect. He clammed up when the doorbell rang.
Opening the door, Mr. van der Linde quickly shook Alex's hand then paraded right by followed by three men in white coats, the ones doctors wear in a hospital, two guiding Jason between them. "Hi again," is all Alex said to the young man.
"Alex, I owe you a debt of gratitude," Mr. van der Linde addressed Alex, his hand remaining attached to Alex's right one as if krazy-glued.
Before even accepting van der Linde's thanks, Alex inquired, "So you want to tell me why you are not taking your son to the hospital and bringing him here?"
"I can't have the press in on this. Not at this time. It's not good for business. You see, I'm expecting a big merger and...."
It made Alex livid to here such bullshit. Before van der Linde got too far, he said, "Mr. van der Linde, give me at least one good reason why I shouldn't punch your lights out?"
"Lights out?" Instead of fear or insult, van der Linde calmly put it, "I know what it sounds like Alex, but I've got to make life good for Jason. Oh, excuse me."
Following the senior van der Linde over to the sofa, Alex eavesdropped. His curiosity getting the best of him, he asks, "How did he do it?" Alex, not well-versed in suicide victims, though from watching movies knew enough, if it had been wristing-slashing, there would be bandages around the younger van der Linde's wrists. .
"Pills," One of the three whitecoats replied.
While the elder van der Linde watched over two of the whitecoats working on Jason, the third member of the recovery team spoke with Alex.
"The old man caught him just in time. Five more minutes and he would have been," he made a pffsst sound, his hand flatly cruising in a straight line, "kaput!"
"Yikes!" Alex exclaimed.
Sharing the same position, Alex agreed as the 'white coat' furthered, "It's a shame the old man is such a fuckin' son-of-a-bitch!"
"I agree," Alex sided with him.
"Jason's really a nice kid, if could ever get himself together."
"Oh?" Alex asked, looking at him while the guy looked towards Jason on the sofa.
Snapping his head back quickly, he snagged Alex staring at him. Instead of embarrassing the good Samaritan, he offered a hand, saying, "The name's Vince Maselli."
"Alex," Alex replied.
"Yeah," Vince automatically detected, asking Alex, "You too?"
Smiling, Alex shook his 'yes', commenting, "Dangerous when two guys have a keen sense of gaydar, huh?"
But Vince was quick to hush him up, saying, "Don't let the old man hear you."
"Hmm... strange though," Alex pondered.
"In what respect?"
"I thought maybe Mr. van der Linde might be one of us!"
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"Last chance to turn around," Bill said to Jim Stooksbury as he cut the engine, parking in a large lot on David Sonnemaker's estate.
Before the final committment, Jim he moves his head around the inside of the vehicle, trying to decipher what's happening in the field several car lengths away from them, his vision marred by the rain.
"They're getting the boys ready for the procession," Bill fills him in.
"But it looks like...."
"Yeah," Bill poured on the drama, watching Jim's reaction, at the edge of his seat as he wound the tale, "It's one of Sonnemaker's little kinky quirks. I find it kind of erotic myself holding one end of a pole, sharing the responsibility of carrying one end of the binding pole while a naked boy hangs from it like an animal, hands and feet tied, his cock and balls blowing to the wind."
"Shit!" Jim gulped.
"Find it kind of erotic yourself Jim?"
Facing Bill, Jim's jaw dropped open as Bill felt up Jim's erection through his jeans.
Swallowing, Jim comfortably said, "I think I could get into it."
"C'mon then." Exiting into the pouring rain, Bill came around to Jim's side, instructing him, "Strip down to your briefs."
"Here? In public?" Jim asked, startled.
"Hey, it's only you and me and the other thirty-five or so guys?"
Seeing Bill's way, Jim didn't question further. Since the rain had already drenched his clothes, it was necessary for Bill to help peel the tee shirt from Jim's back.
"What do you say to that boy?" Bill started in on the roleplay, before they got to the field. He smiled, looking upon Jim's wet chest and stomach, pec-covered hair dripping with water, the thin treasure trail soggy with moisture. .
"Thank you.. um, sir."
"It's just 'sir'... remember that?"
"Okay," Jim replied, unfastening his belt.
"You're not going to make it through the night like that," Bill said regarding the master-slave lingo, same time taking in Jim's expanded crotch region, more defined by the falling rain.
"Oh. I forgot the 'sir' didn't I?"
"Yes, you did, Jim."
Not being smart alecky, Jim reminds Bill, "And just now you forgot the 'boy'."
Instead of casting himself into the mean ogre part, the thirty-one year old cafe manager leaned against another car taking in the view of Jim stripping in the rain. He giggled when Jim almost slid off the hood trying to remove his sneakers, catching himself. When Jim looked at him, he smiled back at Jim, smiling at him. Randomly tossing his shirt, jeans, sneakers and socks into the passenger side of the Cruiser Jim stood there, rain cascading over his hairy bod, an abbreviated smile on his lips as he announced, "I'm all ready, Sir!"
"Almost," Bill replied, looking down at Jim's crotch. a finger tucked into the elastic of his Jockey briefs, as a hint.
"You mean I've got to strip naked?"
"It's all got to go!" Bill replied.
Once again opening the car door, Jim tossed in the last of his apparel.
Bill checked. Yeah, Jim was still hard and raring to go!
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Two of the EMT's, the ones working on Jason van der Linde, stood, mentioning to his father they had done all they could for the teen.
"Very good," was the elder van der Linde's opinion, seeing his son fast asleep, restful, out of the misery he put himself through two hours ago.
Alex, instead of conversing with Jason's guardian, relied on Vince as a go between. It was also Alex's concern who was going and who was staying.
"Um, Alex, where's your jon?"
Nobody could have been more unprepared than Alex, seeing Jarrett standing there, not a stitch on him except his boy-briefs, sagging so low they looked as if the 'thread' they were hanging by was his cock!
His eyes going around in a circle, Alex rushed over, ushering him towards the jon used by guests. "Right this way," he pleasantly instructed, his hand pulling Jarrett in the same direction.
"Who was that?" van der Linde roughly asked Alex when he returned.
"Jarrett. He just had a wee bit too much to drink at dinner."
A glance to his watch, van der Linde remarks, "But it's only 4 o'clock!"
"Early dinner. Um," Alex fudged, "he's going to the theater."
Vince, seeing right through Alex's scheme, smiled, seeing van der Linde falling for the story like a ton of bricks.
"I'll call you later to see how Jason is doing, Alex."
"But..." Alex tried to get a question in, but van der Linde monopolized the whole conversation with his pompous attitude.
When the door closed, Alex stood there, Vince next to his side.
"So, what was your question then, Alex?"
Grinning, he replied to Vince, "I was wondering who was going to stay and look after Jason. I was freaking out thinking it was going to be me!"
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"Oh, high there Mr. Hasteras," Jim said to the man he recognized from his afternoon visit to the Coffee Bean.
Instead of replying to Jim, Afon Hasteras directed Bill's way, "This 'your' boy?"
"Ah yes. Sorry about that. He's a raw recruit," Bill replied, knowing Afon knew whom Jim belonged to, a bad reflection on himself for Jim's curt response.
Getting the gist of things, Jim softly says, "I hope I didn't get you into too much trouble?"
"Depends on how you act from here in, out," Bill said to him. "A good rule to follow is keep your mouth shut unless spoken to and when you do speak, make it 'yes, sir'."
"Yes, sir," Jim began making the transition stick.
"This your boy?" A gruff looking dude in a black leather outfit asked Bill.
"Yeah. Got an extra pole available, Jack?"
"Who you lookin' at boy?" The soured response came from the leather-sir, directed at Jim.
"Sorry there, sir."
What a thrill Jim got when Jack bellies up to him, looking into his eyes, Jim's cock touching the codpiece of the leather uniform.
"Listen you piece of shit, you keep your mouth shut until spoken to. Got that boy?"
Wondering if he would be damned if he did speak, damned if he didn't, he kept his mouth tight-lipped.
"Hmm..." Jack said turning away, saying to Bill, "You can bring your boy over here."
Jim figured he made the right move, Bill winking at him.
"This one's as good as any," Jack said to Bill. Then to Jim, he said, "What're you waiting for boy? Crawl!"
"Ooophffff!" Came the unexpected, Jim caving in to his knees when the handle of Jack's flogger struck him bullseye in the stomach.
"Hey, Jack?"
"Yeah, I know Bill. He's your boy, but I just couldn't resist that hot belly of his. Betcha it could be a lot of fun!"
Following their conversation, even though his gut ached, Jim was kind of proud, hearing Bill tell the meanie off. He didn't even mind it when Bill placed his boot on his shoulder, yelling, "On your belly, boy!"
Never having the mispleasure of tasting grass, Jim tried coughing out a few blades from his mouth. Unavailable were his hands as he lay there, the wooden pole placed on his back, his wrists on top of it, being bound together, same effect felt on his ankles. 'Here goes', he said to himself, feeling the slack being taken up in his arms and legs. To the left and right of him he saw all sorts of guys, seemingly from his age and up, being carted off on these restraining poles. "Akkkkkkkkk!" Jim voiced his painful opinion when his bod became flexed concave, hanging solely from his limbs.
"Nice set of balls," he heard some guy say, another replying, "Yeah. Bet they'd be a kicker to play with!"
However, the thought of what fun was to be had by whatever it's done to a guy's balls, didn't weight Jim down. More important was the humiliation he felt, his cock and balls swinging to the steps of Bill and another guy, carrying his carcass off 'to the slaughter'. Occasionally Jim would like his head, spy upon the stranger called 'Jack', each time lifting his head, Jim getting an insatiable desire to taste the two mounds stretched out to rounded perfection by the taut leather chaps.
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His hand on the doorknob, Vince didn't get far. The doorbell ringing, he glanced to Alex to make sure it was okay to open it.
"Alex, guess what! I got the job!"
Vince jokingly said, "Excuse me," as Dustin rushed by in a mad dash for a congratulatory hug.
"That's awesome, Dustin."
"Yeah and I start tomorrow. Cool, huh?"
It's then Dustin notices another body standing there.
"Dustin, this is Vince..."
"Vince Maselli," the beefy Italian greeted Dustin, shaking his hand profusely.
"Quite a grip you've got there," Dustin commented, feeling like his hand was read to break off at the wrist.
Vince smiled as Alex said, "Don't encourage him, Dustin."
"What do you ever mean, Alex?" Vince asked with a sheepish grin.
"I guess it's a private joke," Dustin shrugged it off, asking, "What's for dinner?"
"Sausage and peppers," Alex said so only Vince could hear it.
"Mmmm, sounds tasty!"
Following Alex into the kitchen, they both spotted Dustin, shopping in front of the open refrigerator. "Hmm... I don't see anything that resembles dinner in here," was his comment.
"Outta the way.. outta the way," Vince barged in front of Dustin. Both watched as Vince talked to himself, gathering things from all layers of the fridge, onions, tomatoes, garlic, taking them out and placing them out on the kitchen island. "This'll do," Vince replied, taking off his white coat.
"You're going to make dinner?" Alex asked.
"I'm willing and capable!" Vince replied cheerfully. "So you two go along with your own business and I'll give you a whistle when things are done."
Who was Alex and Dustin to question, being their stomachs were grumbling with protests of nourishment. "Um yeah. We'll go out and watch Jason for you."
"If Jason as much as twitches his nose you come calling for me!"
Alex responded, "Will do." Way ahead of him, Dustin hightailed it out to the livingroom to see the identity of this 'Jason' fellow.
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It was a totally weird experience, the rain pouring over his bod while hung from the pole in this position, his privates totally vulnerable to the elements. He was paying attention to his loins, even though they showed Jim's true colors about how much he was liking his new experience. Ever though it was tough to keep his head erect, he managed to catch a glimpse or two of his fellow 'pole-hangers'. The light changed immensely when Jim was carried into a garage-like structure. Instead of the gloomy outdoors, complete with cold rain cascading over his naked bod, bright lights shone down on him and the others, carriers and their willing victims. A clearer view, he eyed up the other 'boys' their wet bods drying, puddles of drips accumulating on the concrete floor of the outer cell of the dungeon complex. Loud noise, mostly that of voices yelling, 'next' could be heard as Bill and the other carrier brought Jim over to where two 'Y' stanction protruded from floor, up, cemented in. Each end of the pole was placed in the 'V', hanging him up like a rotisserie. Looking around for Bill, he couldn't find him. Yet, he did pick up on the eyecandy around him, a Latin guy, tanned, tiny nips on his chest, fuzzy hair around them, the silhouette of his defined stomach trail, more around his navel, then the big cock and balls hanging from its bed of curly fur. Across the way, he spied a blond, probably of Irish descent, mostly smooth except the treasure trail, pec glistening with rings hanging from each of his nips. He was startled when he felt a hand on his stomach. It was Jack!
"Oh yeah. That feels so nice. You and me could have a lot of fun boy. Ever get into gutpunching, boy?"
Keeping his cool, Jim remained silent.
After a slight giggle, Jack tells him, "I hear you're a new boy. Sure would like to take care of breakin' you in. All you have to do is give your master the word and your 'mine', boy!"
Even though the whole past half hour were overwhelming to Jim, the present, Jack filling him in on this new information, he wasn't turning up negative thoughts about the proposition. At least that's what his churning balls told him. Even though he knew it to be in the wrong, he blurted out, "Maybe sir."
"Hell yeah," Jack called out, a gloved hand rubbing his codpiece.
"Um Jack, do you mind?" Jim heard Bill speak to Jack.
"Hell, Bill.... your boy here could be interested in a trade off. What'dya say?"
"I don't think so Jack. It's his first time and...."
However Jack wanted Jim and his rounded stomach real bad. Bad enough to turn Bill's attention to the slab of beef hanging from station number four.
"What do you say to this stud?" Jack ushered Bill over to a muscled guy, flexing as a result of his bod hanging from a pole.
"Oh fuck!" was Bill's reply, seeing this hunk in the same position as Jim, the perfect specimen of muscle and guts.
"He's no limits, too," Jack built up the proposition.
"i don't know," Bill replied, hand coursing over his stubble, the other one feeling up his balls. Reporting back to station 6, Bill asks, "Off the record," meaning out of sync with the fantasy roleplay, "Jim, you really want this?"
"I thought about it."
"Yeah boy," Jack coaxed Jim further, "let's give it a whirl!"
"Will he be playing by the same rules?" Jim asked, concerned.
A hand reaching underneather Jim, Jack slaps it against his stomach, assuring him, "If you don't want to do something boy, we don't go there!"
Bill was pleased, but Jim wasn't too sure. Yet, with the atmosphere and other environmental factors slowly unfolding, Jim looked up to Jack as more the stereotyped leather master than Bill, whom he also saw, dressed down, as his boss at the cafe.
"Times-a-wastin' boy."
Bill waited too. With indecision he tore away his attention on Jim with occasional glances across the way.
"You want him, don't you?" Jim turned the tables on Bill. He didn't let Bill change his mind, saying, "I think I could really get into some stuff with Master Jack here."
"Are you sure, Jim?" Bill questioned him for the last time.
"If I'm not in work on Monday, check out all the hospitals?" Jim said, cracking a little smile. Next thing Jim heard was a call for 'number four'.
Both Jack and Bill swung their heads in the direction of two leathermen, lifting the muscle-stud's pole out of the Y holder. As Bill hustled off with his muscle-boy, Jack began working Jim with, "Oh yeah. Wait til we get you cuffed and strung up boy. We're gonna have some fun time. Just you and me boy." Nervousness returned as stretched his neck to see the feeling of Jack rubbing his stomach.
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Copyright 2008 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.