GayBondageFiction

The broken prisoner is made a public example as his betrayed comrades are arrested and taken in for interrogation.

Interrogation of a Rebel – Part 5: Made an Example
by Guyonet
Series: Interrogation of a […]

Dave arrives at the banker’s plush home to begin working off his parents’ debt and is promptly punished for being a few minutes late.

24 Hours – Chapter 4: First Taste of the Strap
by Amalaric
Series: 24 […]

After forcing Dave to dig a trench in the backyard, the banker and his wife order the tired, sweaty buck back into the house and begin to “unwrap” their hot new acquisition.

24 Hours – Chapter 5: Stripping […]

Dave is ordered to strip down to his underwear, shackled and sent back out for more hard labor.

24 Hours – Chapter 6 : Take Off Your Pants
by Amalaric
Series: 24 Hours

Four simple words floating lazily, a humming buzz like the purr of the air conditioner, bound him securely to the web of an impossible nightmare. Hascombe was nearly certain, now, of his power over the buck and both he and Dave shook with anticipation, though for vastly different reasons. Dave had been aware of the banker’s hot lust as long ago as the fateful appointment in the glass office tower (What? Just a few hours ago? Seemed like light years…), and had vowed, in the first flash of revulsion, to deny him satisfaction. His blue eyes glassed over in sad reflection thinking ruefully of the angry defiance that kept him working with his shirt on under the scorching sun. All for nothing. The humiliation of forced labor- driven home as the couple watched, drinks in hand, from the cool sanctuary of their sprawling home- rankled, but Dave was used to that sort of thing and no stranger to sacrifice. His training as a grunt in the marines and then on the construction site prepared him for dirty jobs and taking orders. Besides, his folks were worth it. Ah, shit!! That was the problem.

Brent Hascombe broke into the worried stud’s reverie repeating the dreaded words, ‘Take your pants off, boy.’ Dave’s broad hands felt cemented to the back of his head. His mind gibbered a silent plea, nervous sweat-slicked torso contradicting the artificially cool air of the well- appointed living room. Quick as a cat, the gleeful sadist produced the leather strap and laid a snapping slash across the buck’s naked abs. Dave flinched in surprised shock and the unbuttoned jeans slid a few inches lower clinging precariously to the breadth of his furry thighs. He lowered his eyes and massive arms at the same time and eased the warm denim down the long expanse of leg to pool around his ankles…and realized, with dismay, that he still wore his work boots. Hascombe laughed as the perplexed buck bent awkwardly, struggling to maintain his balance as he unlaced the boots. That task was made infinitely harder by the humiliating distraction of the banker’s roving hands dancing across the muscular expanse of Dave’s tanned back, tracing the hard ridges of stretched lats, thrumming the taut corrugation of arched ribs, tweaking the silky trail of hair from navel to the line of his shorts; three fingers beneath the elastic (Dave nearly keeled over as he frantically pulled off a boot) circling beneath the surface of supple elastic to the hard rise of his ass and, finally, pausing there as if exhausted by the journey. The boots came off and sweaty cotton socks followed. Dave shucked the jeans from around his ankles and gratefully stood up, flexing the complex muscles of his naked torso and putting clenched hands back behind his head without being asked. Hascombe nodded approval and laid the strap on a nearby chair.

Dave knew now, with a certainty as clear as the uncompromising blue sky outside, that Hascombe would eventually have him stripped down completely. The awful proximity of that humiliation had him breathing hard and blushing like a fucking school girl under his deep tan. Aware of his own reaction, it augmented the sense of humiliation in a vicious spiral that was obviously evident to the banker as well, who smiled, sat back in a chair and let the seconds tick slowly by. The bitch, Roberta, poured herself another drink and matched the tall stud- pant for pant. Dave was subtly aware of her burning gaze drilling into the scant fabric of his briefs; probing, measuring…planning. He tried to resist but saw himself, nevertheless, through two pairs of hungry eyes- a valuable young slave in his prime, six feet three inches of loose limbed muscle under smooth golden skin, stripped to his loincloth for casual inspection. Realizing as well, without a shadow of doubt, that he did not disappoint; and knowing this was exquisite torture because it portended things infinitely worse. Dave gazed stoically into space refusing to meet the stares of his captors, wrapped in a potent mix of shame and sickening anticipation. Painfully aware of his own body under the relentless scrutiny; he felt the weight of his balls nestled in spurious safety denting the sweaty material at his groin, and the pressure of his big cock straining against white cotton; imagining the outline of the velvety head reflected in the banker’s amused eyes. The fine pelt of golden hair carpeting muscular calves and meaty thighs pricked as if stroked by an invisible feather and he shuddered with scandalized incomprehension as rosy nipples tingled and sprang miraculously erect.

Hascombe rose from his comfortable chair and paced around his prize savoring the lush landscape of Dave’s sweaty body. A thousand fantasies swirled in his mind and his thin lips pursed, partly rankled and partly amused, as he reflected on the stubborn buck’s refusal to strip to the waist while digging the trench outside. Dark ideas began to take shape centered on the simple notion that it seemed such a shame to waste all of that hot, scorching sunlight in the garden. He chuckled as he considered Dave’s bitter defeat and brought the point home to the young stud by running his hand lightly over the smooth expanse of muscular chest and said, ‘Well, boy, don’t you feel better now?’ Dave gritted his teeth and remained silent. Hascombe ignored the impertinence and continued, ‘You’re really like a fine young animal; all sinew and hairy muscle, made for work.’ The hand dipped into the front of Dave’s shorts scratching casually in the thick thatch of bronze pubic hair. ‘A working boy should be properly attired- no need for shirt, jeans or shoes…they just get in the way,’ and he laughed softly, ‘Time to get back out in that trench.’ He arched an eyebrow, ‘Tell you what, Dave; since it’s just us three, if you want I’ll let you strip your shorts off too. That make you happy, boy?’ Dave felt nauseous. The ornate living room clock ticked softly like the wicked intent of silenced gunshots and he whispered, ‘No sir…I…uh…’ he looked down at the floor willing the probing fingers buried in his pubic hair anywhere else. Hascombe shrugged and said, ‘That’s fine (pause)…for now.’ The hand was withdrawn and moved to rest on the expanse of inner thigh between the buck’s spread legs, basking in the heat radiating from the close proximity of Dave’s sweaty crotch. Hascombe shook his head and brightened as if suddenly remembering something important. ‘Hey! I’m proud of you, boy. We’ve made some good progress with your training and I know it hasn’t been easy for you.’ He nodded at the strap and the roving hand slid back up Dave’s twitching rib cage. ‘Got you stripped down for work but, to be honest, I’m still a little worried about your attitude. How old are you, Dave?’ ‘Twenty six last October,’ Dave mumbled wondering where it was all going. ‘See what I mean?’ the banker frowned, ‘You forgot to say ‘sir’.’ Dave’s eyes darted toward the strap, but Hascombe had something else in mind. ‘I think maybe some kind of preventive restraint might be in order. Twenty six is a wild age- big swaggering bucks all full of themselves, you know? You just can’t help it, Dave, and…really…it’s ok. I like a man with spirit, but you have to understand that there are consequences.’ Fuck!!!! Dave thought, if it’s not going to be the strap, then what? Hascombe finally stepped back, insatiable hands at his sides. He clicked a prissy tongue at his wife and said, ‘Roberta, dear, would you fetch the ankle cuffs from the chest over there?’ ‘Oh yes, darling!’ came the throaty reply and a moment later the banker was kneeling creakily on the floor before his towering slave and Dave felt the cool snick of steel cuffs embrace his ankles. He could hobble, but not kick…or run.

With a playful slap on his slave’s tight cotton clad ass the delirious banker oriented his tall buck toward the sliding glass door. Outside the sun beat down with unabated intensity. It was half past three in the afternoon. Hascombe felt like a kid on Christmas morning, intoxicated by a connoisseur’s lust aged and refined for decades. Guided toward the door opened wide by his captor’s diminutive wife, Dave was marched hobbling across the living room, plush carpet brushing the soles of his naked feet, head bowed against the blast of outdoor heat. At the threshold (he never knew if it was the banker or his wife) a darting foot tangled itself in his bonds and an unseen hand shoved against the small of his back. Dave tripped on the kinked chain and, propelled forward, went flying across the threshold and hit the hot pavement of the patio on his belly. He lay panting, semi-winded, with his cheek pressed against the burning pavement fighting the resurgent rage that threatened to explode inside him. Roberta knelt at his side tracing the musculature of his golden back with a sharp fingernail. The silky skin was already beaded with fresh sweat under the relentless sun. In spite of himself, Dave felt a faint stirring in his groin and unconsciously ground narrow hips against the flag stones. The bizarre reverie was cut short by the slash of the strap across his upper thighs, followed by another against the rising mound of his ass. Dave felt a sharp nudge in his rib cage as Hascombe prodded him to his feet with the point of a shiny black shoe. ‘On your feet, boy! What a clumsy animal. Well, I guess trench work doesn’t take much agility…’ he laughed. Dave levered himself onto chaffed knees and lumbered to his feet. He shuffled toward the half-dug trench and gripped the handle of the pick. Slamming it into the parched ground, trying to lose himself in the hard rhythm as a flying spray of new sweat slicked his grip, running fast over the crevices of pumped muscle, spiking short blond hair and stinging blue eyes narrowed against the glare.

CONTINUE THE STORY:PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

After a rough night of cock polishing, ass play and orgasm denial, the curious college student’s new Master fits him with a chastity device that drives him crazy for days. When he finally returns to his Master […]

The now desperate college student goes to great lengths that push his boundaries in order to earn his release including sucking his first cock and getting fucked in the ass!

Internet Predator: Part 3 – Page […]

After their Masters thoroughly examine and enjoy their naked bodies, Ajax and Nero compete in a vigorous wrestling match. Then the slaves are taken back to their Masters’ private bedrooms for further […]

While working in the fields, Ajax finds himself in serious trouble over a moment’s passion with another male slave for which both slaves are severely punished.

Antebellum – Chapter 15: My ‘Lucky’ Day
by Drum
Art by Amalaric
Series: Antebellum

We were woken by Mede the houseslave entering the room and drawing the curtains. He glanced at me but did not appear surprised or curious as to why I was there. I saw, by the way the sun streamed into the room, it was way past work assembly time and the bell must have rang out at least an hour before. I started to panic knowing what fate awaited a slave who was late for work assignment. Then I remembered where I was and who I was with. Massa Patrick stirred and drank some of the coffee Mede had brought in. ‘Massa Patrick, sir, may I speak?’‘Yes, boy, what is it?’‘I am late for work, Massa, does that mean I will be whipped?’He let out a laugh and said, ‘Hell no, nigger.’ He went to his dressing table and took a piece of paper and a quill and scratched out a lengthy note, folded it and said, ‘Give this to the yard Boss.’ I dared not read it as us niggers were forbidden to know how to read, though some of us could. I assumed it was some sort of explanatory note. I pulled on my pants and shirt and went to the barracoon. The yard Boss was Boss Rowan, a big, black-haired man known for his liking for using the cane on a slave’s back. ‘Where have you been, nigger? You are in big trouble, you are more than an hour and a half late.’ He snarled flexing his cane. ‘I was with Massa Patrick, Boss, he told me to give you this.’ I handed him the paper. He labouriously and slowly read the note twice, I could see his lips moving. ‘I don’t know, nor want to know, what you have been up to, nigger, but it seems it’s your lucky day. Now get out of those clothes and put some work pants on. Find a pair of boots as well. We have company today, and you niggers are to look respectable.’

‘Yes, Boss.’ I said, quickly stripping off and changing into the old work pants and taking a broad-brimmed hat. Boss Rowan whistled out into the yard and one of the boys came over. ‘Gyp, take this buck out to Forest Creek where Boss Brun is working a party clearing some trees.’ The boy was aged about 15 or 16. ‘Yes Boss, come on, Ajax, and keep up.’ He wheeled his horse round and trotted out of the yard and onto the lane. It was a brisk trot but I was able to keep up though I was working up a sweat. After about two miles we arrived at the creek and it felt good on my feet as I took off the boots and waded across it to the work gang on the opposite bank. The slaves were all working hard and Boss Brun said, ‘Get to work, boy.’ I was put to work with an axe felling unwanted trees. I was under the supervision of another boy who seemed to know where and how I was to chop so the trees fell in the right places.

After some time the breakfast chow arrived and we ate the gruel hungrily. During the brief meal break Boss Rowan rode up. He showed Boss Brun the piece of paper Massa Patrick had written and said, glancing in my direction, ‘… so, as it says, if you have to put any leather on him don’t break the skin.’ I thought it might be because Massa Patrick was using me indoors but also knew it did not mean an easier time for me. Some of the Bosses could beat a slave senseless and not leave a mark save for a few bruises. ‘On the chow wagon there is a pile of shirts. You’d best get their chests covered, Mr Brun, the Massa, Massa Patrick and Missy Warner are heading this way so they’d  best be properly dressed. Boss Brun yelled out, ‘Right you bucks, get your shirts on, we have a lady coming to see your work.’ We found and pulled on some shirts and went back to work. Shortly after a one-horse surrey carrying Massa Sullivan and a well-dressed white lady of about 40 came trotting up. Massa Patrick followed on his horse. They stopped near to where I was working.

‘I am surprised they are working in this heat in shirts, Doc,’ the lady said, ‘wouldn’t it be more comfortable if they worked stripped to the waist?’ ‘They are wearing shirts to protect you sensitivity, Missy Warner. Not all ladies want to see half naked bucks working up a sweat.’ ‘Oh, don’t worry about that, Doc, they look like fine young specimens to me and you are famous for breeding some fine stock here, I am sure they would make a fine sight without their shirts. I rather fancy seeing them working bare-chested if you don’t mind.’ ‘Anything to oblige a lady, m’am. Get your shirts off and carry on working.’ The Massa shouted. We stripped to the waist under the interested gaze of Missy Warner who slowly looked round the work site.  She looked at me and said, ‘You boy, what’s your name?’ ‘Ajax, ma’m.’ ‘Step over here, Ajax.’ She said. ‘Yes ma’m.’ I said walking to the carriage. She looked me up and down. I did my trick and bounced my pecs and a faint smile crossed her face. Her interest began to excite me and I felt a swelling in my loins. I wore no cloth under the cotton pants and she stared at my bulge and smiled again. I flexed my arms without being told to. ‘Very nice, Doc, he may be just what I am looking for, how much would you take for him?’ ‘Unfortunately Missy Warner, he’s not mine to sell. We have had him on loan to cover a wench. If he ever comes up for sale I’ll let you know.’ ‘Well from what I can see,’ she said looking at the bulge in my pants, ‘he looks very well suited as a stud buck. I could almost envy the wenches he’s put to.’ Massa Sullivan and Massa Patrick sniggered at her remark. I was told to get back to work. I noticed Cicero, one of the younger bucks, about 18 or 19 years old, looking at me with interest and smiling as he rubbed the bulge in his pants. I glanced at it and then flashed a smile at him. We got back to work and Massa Sullivan and Missy Warner drove off in the direction of the mansion.

We broke off to eat our midday chow when the sun was real hot and high. Cicero sat next to me on the grass. ‘Shit, Ajax, seeing you show off your muscles to Missy Warner made me so hard.’ ‘Me too, Cicero, I am still feeling randy even now.’ ‘You want me to help you with it?’ he said, ‘I know a spot in the woods where they’ll never find us.’ ‘It’s too risky, Cicero,’ I said. ‘Aw, come on, nigger, I ain’t seen any action in days.’ I looked around and noted that Boss Brun and the others were all relaxing and dozing under a tree and only one of the younger boys was keeping watch. ‘OK, but be quiet.’ I said. Cicero took the bowls back to the wagon and came back with a rag full of axle grease. We slipped into the undergrowth and when we were a good 200 yards from the worksite stripped off our pants. Cicero took the grease and fingered his butt with it. ‘Makes it easier,’ he said, as if I didn’t know. He took my semi-erect cock in his hands and massaged it to full erection. ‘I’ve wanted some of this since the first time I saw you naked in the bathhouse.’ He positioned himself on his hands and knees and I entered him as gently as I could. He grunted and said, ‘Shit man, it’s huge!’ I was right inside his tight and hot guts and started to thrust as deep as I could. We were soon oblivious to everything about us except our bodies and the need to satisfy  our lust and desire.  Then, as I was about to shoot my wad,  I felt an agonising burning sensation across my shoulders accompanied by a loud THWACK! which caused me to lose control and shoot into the boy. ‘You filthy animals! How dare you? You will be punished severely for this!’ It was Doc Sullivan screaming in rage at us and wielding his whip. Massa Patrick stood at his side glaring at us. Doc Sullivan raised the lash again and brought it down on Cicero and then me again. ‘Stand up and cover yourselves! You will regret this outrage. Now get back to work.’

We walked back to the clearing. ‘I will not have my niggers committing sins against nature.’ He was muttering as we went. When we arrived at the work site he said to Boss Brun, ‘These two niggers will work in chains this afternoon and this evening they will be presented in the yard for punishment.’ Massa Patrick spoke, ‘Pa, can I be the one to whip Ajax, please?’ ‘Good idea, son. The lash needs to be applied with skill on him and I know he’ll suffer pain but will not be damaged if you do it.’ ‘Thank you, Pa, I look forward to it.’ Massa Patrick said with an evil gleam in his eyes as he leered at me. Boss Brun locked manacles, shackles and collars on me and Cicero. We were put to work again, this time hauling the felled logs. ‘I don’t want them using anything that could be a weapon like an axe.’ Doc Sullivan said. I was working hard, the chains did not restrict movement too much. Before they left I felt Massa Patrick’s hands on my back and shoulders. In a low voice that seemed to tremble with anticipation he said, ‘I am going to enjoy putting the lash across this back, nigger.’ He sniggered and went on, ‘In fact I am hard just thinking about it, Ajax.’

At sundown we were all marched back to the barracoon. All the slaves were assembled in the yard. Cicero and I were singled out and our wrists were tied above our heads to the whipping tree branch. Our pants were pulled down so we were naked. Doc Sullivan and Massa Patrick stood in front of us with coiled whips. Massa Patrick seemed to be carrying a stockwhip but Doc Sullivan held a heavier bullwhip. ‘Listen up you niggers. These two abominations were caught red-handed committing the unspeakable sin of the flesh, sodomy, when they should have been working. It is not only a crime against me to shirk their  tasks  but  it  is  a crime against nature when two bucks try to mount each other for pleasure. Bucks are made to mount wenches and provide me with fresh slave stock and not waste their seed indulging in the worst of sins. For this they will receive two dozen lashes each, they will go without their rations tonight and the rest of you will receive only half your rations to remind you of your place as my property whose tasks are to work and to breed. Let us proceed. Mr Brun, keep the count.’ ‘Yes, sir.’

They turned round to face us. Massa Patrick glanced down to his crotch with a nasty leer. I could see the outline of his stiff cock stretching his buckskin pants. I was braced for the first lash. I could just touch the ground with my toes. There was a whoosh and I felt the lash burn a line across my shoulders. I shook with the pain but determined not to cry out. The younger Cicero uttered a grunt when he was hit. ‘One,’ Boss Brun said. After five or six lashes I was beginning to lose much of the sense of instant pain as the sensation of burning spread over my upper back. After the twelfth lash Massa Sullivan said, ‘Stop the punishment.’ I thought he was going to show mercy but no, ‘Douse these animals with cold water.’ A bucket of cool water was poured down my inflamed back. I looked down my front to where my cock was standing semi-erect away from my loins. It was the least of my problems. ‘Right Patrick, Mr Brun, carry on.’ They resumed the whipping. I was gradually losing my ability to concentrate and began to cry out for mercy. I struggled in the bonds that held me. I must have blacked out because I remember coming round with my back wet with cool water hanging limply from my wrists, ‘Right, Patrick, give him his last five.’ And then, wham! Another lash. This knocked me from my toes and the breath from my body and I finished the punishment hanging from my wrists with no support at all from my feet. They released my wrists and I fell to the ground like a sack of grain. Cicero had passed out and was being given the end of his punishment unconscious.

While we both lay in the dirt Massa Sullivan said, ‘Let that be a lesson to you. Any more of this, Cicero, and you’ll be gelded. As for you, Ajax, I will report his matter to your owner.’ We both said, ‘Yes Massa, sir.’ We were dragged to the barn and a couple of wenches were detailed to tend our wounds. Mine said, ‘You a damned lucky nigger, man. Massa Patrick sure knows how to handle a whip. There’s not a mark on you, just bruising.’ I grunted and groaned as she rubbed oil into my tender skin. ‘I don’t feel so lucky, girl.’ I groaned. ‘Well take my word, Ajax, I seen Massa Patrick take a bullwhip to a nigger and shred his back to bleeding and open wounds, even worse than Cicero’s. Still he was their property, you only on loan, wouldn’t do to send you home with your back carved up. As for Cicero, he’s lucky he still has his nuts, I’ve seen the Massa cut a troublesome buck’s nuts off and burn them in front of him and the other slaves as a lesson.’ She left me laying on my belly as I tried to get some sleep.

Shortly after, the door was unlocked and Massa Patrick came in carrying a lamp. I tried to pretend to sleep. ‘Stand up in the presence of your Massa, nigger!’ He snapped. I rose unsteadily to my feet and faced him. He grabbed my cock and said ‘I enjoyed whipping you, boy but I am disappointed with you. I thought I gave this enough exercise to keep you happy last night. Seems not. We’ll see what happens when you’re back is better in a day or two.  I  intend  training  you as a stud buck, my personal stud buck. What you did with Cicero is a crime, boy, between two bucks, that is, between a Massa and his slave, well that’s a different matter. Still, there is always your mouth, get on your knees and open it.’ I obeyed him instantly and he fished his erect cock out of his pants. I could smell stale juice on it and then, as he pushed it into my mouth, could taste it. He roughly rammed it down my throat hardly giving me time to relax and very quickly thrusting in deep down and impatiently shot a load into my mouth. ‘Shit, I needed that,’ he said. ‘Eat it Ajax, taste your Massa’s juices. As for my bed tonight? Well. I have a smooth young kitchen boy in need of a spanking followed by deflowering. You’ll probably hear his hollering from here. Oh, and Ajax.’ ‘Yes Massa.’ ‘I ain’t finished with you yet, boy. I’ll teach you that your body belongs to me and me alone, nigger, understand?’ ‘Yes Massa Patrick.’ ‘Think on it, Ajax, until I say so, when you mate, you mate with me and only me unless you are ordered otherwise.’ ‘Yes, Massa Patrick, sir.’

CONTINUE THE STORY:PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

Lex Luthor is authorized by the mayor to use force to bring down Superboy who’s earned a new reputation as a menace thanks to the work of the Superboy Destroyer and his Superboy fakes. Lex encounters one of the horny fakes in his attempt to capture Superboy.
n
The Hunt for Superboy – Chapter 14
by Todd Fleming
Series: The Hunt for Superboy

Check out Todd’s website at Todd-Fleming.com!

Lex Luthor glared out of his office window at the carnage and destruction that had engulfed his city. “Look, Mr. Mayor,” He lectured sternly. “The longer that you put off making a decision, the more it will hurt Metropolis. My men are ready to assist your completely overwhelmed police force and I won’t even charge you for it.”

“I always am thankful for your support, Lex,” Mayor Patrick answered back with a hint of fear in his voice. “However, we can’t confirm that these attacks are made by Superboy yet. Captain Sawyer assures me that she had her best men investigating the true source of these attacks.”

The billionaire business tycoon rolled his eyes as he fought to control his temper. Dealing with these politicians was always a hassle. “It doesn’t matter if Superboy is behind these attacks or not. The fact is that your precious Superboy is not out there quelling this sudden surge of violence. Have you even seen what is happening across Metropolis? Buildings are burning, people are fleeing for their lives. The reports that I am getting is there has been several sightings of Superboy across the city and all of them report that alien doing disgusting and unsavory acts.”

“Lex, your opinion of Superboy has always been……”

“I know, my opinion is biased.” Lex snapped back. “I didn’t like that alien freak the moment that I laid eyes on him, however that doesn’t change the fact that my city is burning and all reports point right back at Superboy. All I want it to make the city safe again, Mr. Mayor. Surely even you can see that.”

Mayor Patrick sighed through the other end of the line. “I know that, Lex. I was just hoping that it wouldn’t come to this.”

Finally the damn fool was starting to crack. “None of us wanted this, Jim, but it is happening. If we act quickly, my men will be able to put a stop to this once and for all and get the true story. Look if you keep putting this off, then the governor and maybe even the President is going to get involved. Would you rather have the National Guard on the streets or trained LexCorp personnel that wants to make sure that this city is kept safe and whole. Give me the authorization to deploy my men and I promise you that we will end this nightmare quickly.”

“Alright, you win. Go ahead and deploy your troops. Just try to keep the damage to the minimum.”

“That is my top priority, Mr. Mayor. I have a bigger investment in Metropolis that you can even imagine.”

As Lex hung up the phone, he turned and nodded to his assistant Mercy. “We finally have a go from the Mayor. I want all Agents deployed across the city.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Luthor,” Mercy said without an expression on her face.

She was the only person that Lex could ever trust almost completely. Not only was Mercy an assistant but she also was a bodyguard. The only person in the world that he would trust his life with.

“One other thing, Mercy. Is the suit ready?”

“Yes, sir. Lab 25-B has been prepping your new suit all night.”

Lex nodded seriously as he let Mercy carry on with his order. With one last look out of his office window at the flames and smoke engulfing Metropolis, he knew that it was finally time. Too long has the people of his city put all their hopes and adoration on an alien freak. It was time to show the city, what mankind can do on their own.

******************************************

Superboy growled in frustration as The Superboy Destroyer finally finished his story. The hero felt weak as a baby on that rooftop while the villain’s brainwashed minion terrorized the city with his stolen powers.

“Watch, boy, as your precious city gets burned to the ground!” The Superboy Destroyer mocked. “After Metropolis is destroyed, I will parade your weak helpless body across the ashes and rubble and execute you in the name of mankind!”

The hero felt a rock in his throat as he realized that he had failed. Looked across the burning skyline, he realized that his destroyer was absolutely right. Superboy had stupidly fallen right into his trap because of his arrogance and believe that he was indestructible. Now Metropolis was paying the price for his pride.

Superboy watched as The Superboy Destroyer floated high in the air and started to use his stolen vision powers to fire red hot lasers from his eyes. The tops of building exploded like a bundle of fireworks adding to the carnage and destruction.

“NOOOOOOO!” The Boy of Steel screamed in agony. He just couldn’t stand there and watch this madman who had stolen his face, powers, and ruined his reputation destroy the very city that he vowed to protect.

His anguish quickly turned to rage as Superboy tapped deep in his soul. His entire body started to be engulfed in a red aura as his blue eyes turned into a deep red. With a bellowing cry of anger, Superboy floated in the air as his entire body coursed with a renewal of powers.

The Superboy Destroyer smiled as he saw his nemesis floating in the air. “I was wondering what it would take to make you tap into your reserve powers. Now the fun can really begin.”

Superboy screamed as he flew at full force into the villain and tackled him in midair. In the past, the hero had always held his powers back in fear of hurting innocents, but now his restraint had completely vanished. His mind had exploded in a blazing rage as he slammed punch after punch into the man who had completely destroyed him.

Despite the hero’s fighting rage, The Superboy Destroyer had been prepared for this. He easily took the full force of Superboy’s powerful blows as they soared through the air. The boy of Steel’s blazing red eyes widened in surprise as his punch as caught in the villain’s hand and in a blink of an eye his arm was twisted around behind his back.

“It’s no good, boy!” The villain mocked as he slapped down hard on Superboy’s spandex ass. “Anything you can think of, I have anticipated and am ready to counter! You will never defeat me!”

Superboy cried out in pain and humiliation as the mad scientist spanked him in midair. He started to feel those sexual urges that sent waves of fright through the thick fog of his rage. The hero knew that if he gave in to those newly discovered needs that his nemesis chemically alerted within him that the fight would be over before it began. Even now, he could feel his cock starting to stir in his tights.

“I will defeat you if it’s the last thing I do!” The Boy of Steel growled through his grinding teeth.

With a surge of strength, the hero broke free and slammed his fist right into the chest of the grinning villain. The force of the blow would have split the moon in half, but instead, The Superboy Destroyer was flung back and crashed through several burning skyscrapers. Superboy steeled himself for a long battle as he flew through the air after him. It was time to finally end this.

******************************************************

Lex could not believe his eyes as he landed in the middle of Centennial Park. His men had set up a perimeter, but kept clear of what was happening. Superboy was straddled against a huge old oak tree and was humping the trunk like he was a dog in heat.

“Really, Superboy, even I thought better of you than this!” Lex mocked as his men recorded the hero’s disgraceful behavior. It never hurt to have insurance when his plans to collar and enslave the alien finally came into fruition.

The Boy of Steel turned his head and saw Lex Luthor standing a few feet away from him. The business tycoon was clad in a steel titanium suit that he had designed himself. If his calculations were correct, as long as he wore his armored suit, he would be able to stand toe to toe with Superboy in a fight.

Superboy floated down from the tree and Lex’s men gasped as they saw the large tent in his tights. The hero’s red briefs were stained with dried cum leading Luthor to think that the boy had orgasmed several times in the last hour.

“What’s wrong, Superboy, did you just hit puberty?” Lex mocked as he prepped his armored suit for a fight against the hero.

Instead of anger, Superboy just smiled a goofy grin. His hands wandered all over his muscular body as he moaned like a bitch in heat. “You think you can fuck the mighty Superboy?”

Fuck? Lex thought as his brilliant mind raced in a thousand directions. Superboy really was in heat and by the looks of it was a flaming homosexual. This bit of information would be perfect when it came time to finally put the alien in his place. Despite being straight, Lex felt a thrill of excitement as he imagined what it would be like to have a collared and leashed Superboy bending over begging to be fucked by his one true master.

Sadly that dream would have to wait. Lex pushed his erotic thoughts out of his mind as he took a step towards the masterbating hero. “You need to come with me, Superboy. It’s time to stop this madness.”

The hero moaned with delight as he jerked his monster cock through his briefs and tights. “Oh yes!” His moans grew louder and louder. “Come and punish me! Spank me like the bad boy that I am!”

Something was off, Lex thought as he observed his hated nemesis masterbating in the park. His eyes grew wide as it finally dawned on him. This was not the real Superboy. Looking closer at the facial features and build of the body, the genius could see the small differences. This imposter looked a great deal like the real hero which is why it took him so long to notice that he was dealing with a fake.

Unfortunately, this new revelation created more questions than it answered. Why were there fake Superboys running around and who was behind this? His first course of action was to apprehend this fake so that he could question him.

“You want to be punished, Superboy?” Lex baited as he took a step forward. “I’ll be happy to spank your bad little ass!”

The fake moaned as his stained briefs grew wetter and wetter. He bent over and slapped his ass. “You’re going to have to catch me first!”

Luthor cursed as the fake leaped in the air and flew at at top speed. He activated the rocked in his boots and in less than a second, the business tycoon was chasing after him. Fortunately it looked like the fake wanted to be caught and in less than three minutes, Lex tackled him in the air and held him tightly in his arms.

With a hard slap to his ass, Luthor put a choke hold over the neck of the fake Superboy. “Who are you and why are you impersonating Superboy!” He demanded.

The fake’s body quivered against the smooth titanium of the armor as he moaned with delight. “More!” He moaned pathetically. His ass pushed back desperately longing to be spanked again.

It sickened Luthor to play this game, but he needed to get answers quickly. He started to spank the fake Superboy and watched in wonder as the young man quickly turned into a slut in heat. Even dominating a fake Superboy was stirring emotions in Lex that he didn’t know that he had. The business tycoon could not deny that he enjoying dominating even a pale imitation of Superboy and soon he was just as turned on as the boy that he spanked.

The fake couldn’t take much more before he started to scream with pleasure. His muscular body started to shake and twitch as his tented briefs exploded in a powerful orgasm. The force of the orgasm took Lex by surprise as he was knocked out of flight and hurled to the street. He was barely able to activate his backup programs making a rough landing with the orgasming fake hero still in his arms.

The fake Superboy continued to scream in passion as his entire body started to glow red. Lex cursed as he stumbled back as the glow engulfed the fake. When it was over, the business tycoon walked cautiously over and stared down at the vulnerably naked young man. It was like looking down at a different person. Sure, he still looked like Superboy, but the aura of power had completely vanished. If Lex was a betting man, he would hypothesize that this fake had lost what was supplying him with powers that were replicated from Superboy.

Lex wanted to question the boy right away, but his radio was going crazy with more Superboy sightings. He instead ordered a squad of his men to take the unconscious boy to his secret lab in Lexcorp. Vowing to deal with this fake later, Lex leaped in the air and went in search of the real Superboy. The hunt was on.

CONTINUE THE STORY:PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

Lex is captured by the Superboy Destroyer then Superboy and Lex work together to defeat the villian.

The Hunt for Superboy – Chapter 15
by Todd Fleming
Series: The Hunt for Superboy

Check out Todd’s website at Todd-Fleming.com!

Lex Luthor’s mind was going in a dozen directions as he assisted his personal task force with stopping the attacks on Metropolis. The real Superboy was nowhere in sight, but somehow the alien was connected to all of this. This fake superboy had been apprehended and taken back to Lexcorp so his scientists could figure out how this happened. He had been getting reports of other ‘Superboy’ sightings, but he doubted that these were the real so called hero. If one fake can be created then there must be more out there destroying his city.

The business tycoon was flying in his titanium battle suit when a rush of air slammed against his back and caused his flight rockets to sputter. Luthor quickly activated one of his backup systems and he was able to stay in flight. He turned around and cursed as he quickly dove through the air.

A blur of red and blue rushed past where he had been flying and suddenly crashed through several buildings causing even more mayhem in a city that was in a panic. A half a second later there was another blur of red and blue that flew faster than any aircraft.

Luthor flew as fast as his suit would allow after the streaks grimacing as he noticed the damage being done. Down in the middle of the street right in front of the entrance to Lexcorp was a small crater. At the bottom of the impact, two Superboys were slugging it out against each other.

Eyes narrowed in a mix of anger and frustration, Lex trained his guns down on the fighting superboys. “Mercy, I think I located the real Superboy. He seems to be fighting a clone or replica of himself. Send a detachment to block off the front entrance of Lexcorp. Lock down the building and stand by for my instructions.”

Luthor watched in wonder as the two superboys exchanged blows. They looked completely identical except one of the costumes had an ‘X’ across the chest instead of an ‘S’. Was this some kind of Anti-Superboy?

The real Superboy noticed Lex coming towards them and waved him back. “Stay out of this Luthor! I can handle this!”

The fake took advantage of the hero’s distraction and threw some kind of dust in his face. Lex watched with fascination as Superboy stumbled back waving his arms in the empty air.

“Oh no!” Superboy moaned as he fell right on his spandex covered ass.

“What did you do to him?” Luthor demanded as he aimed his guns at the fake. It wasn’t that he was concerned about the alien, it was more intellectual curiosity. The effects on Superboy were very quick as his tights started to tent out trying to hold back his growing erection.

“Welcome to the party, Mr. Luthor.” The fake said with a smile. “I was wondering when you would show up.

“You seem to know me, but I do not think that we have been introduced.”

“We have met before, but not in my current state. You may call me The Superboy Destroyer.”

Lex smirked as he hovered in the air. “Nice name, but I hardly see Superboy being destroyed.”

“The seeds of destruction has been planted long ago, Mr. Luthor.” The Superboy Destroyer grabbed the hero by his hair and jerked his head back so Lex could see. Superboy had a look of pure pleasure as he moaned with delight from the rough treatment. His indestructible costume had been torn in so many places that his teeming erection had ripped through the holes in his tights and briefs and saluted proudly in the air.

“As much as I would like to see Superboy destroyed,” Lex smiled softly. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to shut you down. Metropolis is MY city and if anyone is going to destroy Superboy it’s going to be me!”

The Superboy Destroyer shook his head as he petted his horny hero’s hair. “Do you think you can take all of us at the same time?”

All of us? Luthor thought in confusion. He looked around and cursed when he saw five other Superboy fakes forming a circle around him. Fuck! He had been distracted with the Superboy Destroyer that he didn’t notice his fake superboys arriving on the scene.

Setting his armor’s programs into attack mode, Lex soared through the air as his weapon systems opened fire on the fakes. They did little harm to them but it slowed them down long enough for him to get into a better position.

The first fake rushed towards him and Lex grabbed him by the throat before slamming him into the ground. These fakes might look and possess Superboy’s powers, but they didn’t have the combat training that Lex Luthor had.

“Mercy!” He called into his radio as he blocked an attack from another fake superboy. “I need you to see quickly go and see if Dr. Titus has any information from the fake that I captured. I am fighting five more like him and found the person responsible for them.”

“Yes, sir! I’ll get on it right away!”

Lex fought for his life as he tried to take down all five of the fake superboys. He had built his armor to fight the real Superboy, and didn’t anticipate having to fight five of them at once. At first, he had the upper hand with his hand to hand combat skills and the weapons that were built into the armor. It wasn’t enough against the sheer power of the combined might of the fakes. The business tycoon was cursing and struggling as his armor was ripped into shreds and the fakes brought him struggling to the leader.

The Superboy Destroyer smiled as he sat on the back of the real Superboy. The hero had a stupid glazed look over his face as he sat on his hands and knees making a chair for the madman out to destroy him. His naked erection quivered with delight taking great pleasure in being dominated. Lex grinded his teeth in a combination of anger and frustration. It should be him to dominate Superboy not some wannabe.

“This would have gone much more smoothly if you just had listened to me in the first place, Mr. Luthor.” The Superboy Destroyer mocked. “It doesn’t matter. I think I am going to add you to my collection. Normally I want slaves that look just like Superboy, but for you I will make an exception. Your wealth and connections will help me create even a larger army of superboys that will help me take over the world!”

Lex was horrified that this maniac wanted to enslave him like these fakes. “I will never allow that to happen, you fucking freak!”

The Superboy Destroyer threw his head back and started to laugh. “How are you going to stop me? Your little tin suit had been destroyed and you have no resistance against my chemical creations.”

So that was how this freak was controlling Superboy. It was good information to know. Lex showed nothing on his face as Mercy whispered into his earpiece that backup was closing in fast. “You’ll be surprised on how resourceful, I can be!” He snarled.

The villain was about to retort back when he saw the approaching Lexcorp forces. “Take care of them!” He snapped to his slaves.

Lex took advantage of their distraction to break free of their grip. His men threw smoke grenades into the crater and he ran for his life. One of his air cruisers flew down low and dropped a ladder down towards him. By the time that the smoke cleared, Lex was safe and sound with his own people.

The Superboy Destroyer had a look of pure rage as he easily repelled the attacks of Lexcorp troops. His eyes glowed red as he activated his x-ray vision to decimate the enemy troops. Lex could care less about the lives of his men, but he needed them to last long enough for him to be able to effectively counter attack.

“Mercy, I need any kind of information NOW!” Luthor demanded as he quickly got into his back up armor suit.

“I’m sending the information that we have right into your armor’s systems.”

As the information downloaded, Luthor leaped out of the aircraft and opened fire with all of his armor’s weapons into the crater. Out of the dust of debris and destruction, the five fake superboys and The Superboy Destroyer himself flew at full speed towards him.

Lex knew that he was outmuscled by these imposters who somehow had stolen Superboy’s powers. For now he and his men were holding his own, but it was only a matter of time before they were defeated.

As he fought, his armor’s computer systems downloaded the information obtained from the captured fake superboy. Luthor knocked away two of the fakes before diving down into the crater.

Superboy was laying on his back and masterbating like it was his first time with an erection. Luthor hated to do this, but his options were extremely limited. He aimed his guns right at the hero’s balls and opened fire.

“What are you doing?” The Superboy Destroyer shrieked as he rushed towards them.

Lex didn’t even wait to see if his gambit worked before he turned and slammed right into the villain. He fought valiantly, but soon was overpowered.

“I was going to keep you, but now I think I’ll just kill you!” The Superboy Destroyer raged.

“I don’t think so!” Superboy said heroically as he stepped towards them. The hero was standing confidently with his hands on his hips in his iconic stance. This was was different because his exposed cock and balls were covered in the alien’s seed. In fact his entire torso was covered in so much cum that hardly any blue of his costume was seen.

Superboy flew towards the Superboy Destroyer and started to grapple with him. “I’ll handle this, you go take care of the others.” He grunted towards Lex.

Just like that, he was now working with the damned alien. Luthor liked him better when he was a mindless slut. He decided to work with Superboy for now. It will give him several ways to take advantage of this situation.

Lex flew around tracking down each of the fake superboys. Each time, he found one, he would aim his weapons on their red bulge and fire everything he had. This caused each fake to cum right on the spot. Their orgasms were so powerful that each boy fell to the ground as his muscular body thrashed in pleasure. Just like Superboy, the orgasm purged them of the chemicals that enslaved them to The Superboy Destroyer.

Flying back to where Superboy and his Destroyer were duking it out, Lex commanded his men to form a line behind him. With all of their weapons aimed at both of their crotches, the business tycoon ordered them to open fire.

The Superboy Destroyer screamed in supreme pleasure as his cock betrayed him and exploded with cum in his tights. The villain thrashed so violently that Superboy tackled him to the ground and used his body as a shield.

When it was over, Superboy was the only one left standing. The Superboy Destroyer had finally been defeated. Lex had a bad taste in his mouth for helping his nemesis no matter how necessary it was. He was considering attacking the alien in his weakened condition when he turned to see Amanda Waller coming towards them with an armed escort.

What the fuck was she doing here? Lex thought in a red hot fury.

“You better go,” Luthor said to Superboy causing the young man much surprise. “Waller has a reputation for getting what she wants and you don’t want to fall into her hands.”

The Boy of Steel nodded in agreement. “Thank you for you help, Lex.” He said sincerely as he took off in flight.

Lex kept all emotion from showing as he watched the damned alien fly away. Let Superboy think that they could be allies or friends. His time will come when he will destroy Superboy once and for all. Now it was time to deal with Amanda Waller.

CONTINUE THE STORY:PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

The conclusion to Todd Fleming’s Superboy series.

The Hunt for Superboy – Conclusion
by Todd Fleming
Series: The Hunt for Superboy

Check out Todd’s website at Todd-Fleming.com!

Superboy flew inside through an open window right into Dr. Sarah Charles office. The hero was still recovering from his encounter with The Superboy Destroyer. He spent most of his time helping reconstruction efforts to restore Metropolis towards its former glory.

Many blamed the hero for the wanton destruction and Lex Luthor was the savior that the people adored. Superboy had explained most of what happened with Captain Sawyer, but it would be awhile before he could get his reputation back as a hero.

He had avoided Amanda Waller as much as possible, but as he landed in Dr. Charles office, she was sitting in one of the chairs.

“It’s good to see you again, Superboy.” She said crisply. Legend was that her security clearance was so high that even the President was authorized to know all of her dealings. “Since you have been avoiding me, I thought that it would be wise to arrange this meeting.”

The hero cautiously nodded as he stood near the window. He wasn’t about to let himself be captured by her.

“Oh relax, I’m not here to take you to any government facility.” Waller snapped in irritation. “Is that why you were avoiding me? Give me more credit than that?”

Superboy blinked in surprise. How?

“How did I know what you were thinking?” Waller asked with a smile. “Your body language gives you away every time. We need to have a talk.”

“I’m listening,” Superboy said cautiously.

The black woman sighed as she took out a folder from her bag. “You are worse than Batman sometimes. Dr. Sven Cardoso is still in the hospital. It looks like the chemicals that made him look like you have been processed out of his body and he looks almost like his normal self. Unfortunately a side effect of his little experiment has left him with complete amnesia. He doesn’t remember anything that has happened.”

“Are you going to press charges against him?” The hero asked.

Waller raised an eyebrow, but slowly shook her head. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but no we are not. He has dangerous information that he can use not only against you, but against anyone who looks like you. We have given him a new identity and life, but we will be watching him closely for any signs of his memories returning. His victims have all recovered with similar symptoms. Their amnesia only extends to the point where they were first exposed. Other than that, they all remember who they are.”

Superboy sighed with relief. He had been concerned that Dr. Cardoso’s victims would be forever changed. “That’s good to hear.”

“Like Dr. Cardoso, we will be watching them. Unfortunately we were unable to access any of his files or notes. My computer experts tell me that his files sort of self destructed when they turned on the computers. It looks like whatever concoction that he created to control you is completely gone. Only Dr. Cardoso could tell us how he did and he doesn’t remember a thing.”

“Why are you telling me all of this? Why would you help me?”

Waller raised her eyebrow again as she put away her folder. “Honey, I may have a reputation for ruthlessly accomplishing my missions, but I am not heartless. The world needs heroes like you to help take care of threats that we mere mortals can’t handle. The Government is happy to let you do your heroic acts with reasons of course.”

“Thank you,” Superboy said softly still stunned by these revelations.

“Make no mistake that we will be watching your every move,” Waller said sternly. “You may think you are safe on the farm, but the wolves are always watching for signs of weakness. Take care that you don’t fall prey to them. Next time I may not get the orders to help you like this time.”

The hero barely kept the shock from his face. Did Waller just tell him that she knew his secret identity? He was going to have to be extremely careful in his future dealings with her.

“Oh and one other piece of advice,” Amanda Waller said sweetly. “The whole boy thing is getting a little old. Don’t you think it’s time you grew up and became a super man?”

Yes, he was going to be very careful around her indeed.

*****************************************************

Lex watched through the observation window as Dr. Taylor spanked Nick Hathaway. He had managed to keep secret that he had captured the college jock from both Superboy and Amanda Waller.

Despite the fact that his stolen powers had vanished, some traits from his chemical exposure left some of the hunk’s personality completely altered. The boy remembered almost nothing as his time as a slave, but telling him that he was a bad boy and spanking him always made Nick horny as hell.

“Oh yes!” Nick moaned as he came all over Dr. Taylor’s lap. “I’m a bad bad boy!” He moaned like a bitch in heat.

The doctor played his role perfectly as he tossed the moaning jock to the ground and ordered him to lick the cum splatter off his dress shoes. Nick obeyed right away as his cock stiffened once again with the pleasure of being dominated. Little did he know that he was being drugged daily to keep him compliant and to test if they could replica the chemicals that turned him into a submissive bondage slut.

Luthor had his top scientists take blood, semen, hair, and saliva samples in order to try and recreate Dr. Cardoso’s chemical creations. He had tried to hack into the madman’s files, but Waller had beat him to it. His eyes and ears in her little secret government organization told him that she wasn’t able to access any information either.

The business tycoon walked from one secret lab into another. He had been quite busy working with Superboy in rebuilding the damaged parts of the city. Their newly formed alliance was holding strong, but both new that it would not last for much longer. Everytime he saw the hero, he wanted to vomit from anger.

In his other secret lab, not one of his scientists had access. He could trust his top personnel with prisoners like Nick, but this was information that he would not risk to anyone but him. Even Mercy was denied access to the information from this secret lab.

Lex typed in his password into the keypad and the lab doors opened. He walked over to a lead safe that sat in the middle of the room right next to an examination table. This project he had been working on for a few months now. It would be his legacy towards mankind in his mission in destroying any meddlesome alien. As he opened the safe, a green glow reflected on his face. Superboy won’t even know what hit him!

***************************************

Rudy Jones sighed as he swept the hallways of Star Labs. This was a great job and since he had come down with amnesia, it helped him in putting the pieces of his life together. He remembered nothing of his past before waking up in the hospital. No memories of friends, family, no trace of anything.

He only knew that his name was Rudy Jones because Dr. Charles told him that was his name. She had been his only visitor in the hospital who claimed to know who he was. The older woman had been very sweet to him setting him up with this job and a new apartment, but something just didn’t seem right.

Day after day, he cleaned his section of Star Labs. Everyday as he walked the 25th floor, he felt drawn to the same office. The door looked like any other door that he had seen except that it was padlocked shut. He had seen other offices that required a security code to enter, but for some reason this door was different to him. He felt drawn to this room and wondered if there was some kind of clue of his past inside the room.

Rudy even brought up his feelings to Dr. Charles, but she just laughed and assured him that there was nothing in the room worth investigating. Yet he just could not shake these feelings that he had that something important was in there.

Putting down his broom, the janitor pressed his hands against the door. He felt a tingle all over his body as he tried to imagine what was behind this strange door. Everyday he passed this door, he was more and more sure that he needed to get in there at all costs.

The sound of air whooshing rushed by the window, and Rudy ran to it just in time to see Superboy flying by. No, he was wrong, the hero was going by Superman now. He felt nothing but admiration for his idol. He knew that Superman often visited Star Labs, but he was never lucky enough to be around when he came. Besides, why would he talked to a janitor like him.

Rudy grabbed his broom and resumed his duties. Even though this has been his life for months, he still didn’t feel like this was the real him. Oh well, he thought. Maybe one day his memories will come back.

The End?

CONTINUE THE STORY:PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

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Roberta Hascombe stood with hands on slender hips, pixie smile belying her intent. The tension between her husband and the tall construction worker was obvious and she set out to exploit it; for sport and…who knows? This could be interesting. Let’s see where it goes, she thought wickedly to herself. ‘I hope I haven’t interrupted anything…important,’ she said coyly. Her face melted into a concerned mask. Gazing at Dave’s handsome profile, she added, ‘You seem upset, Dave? (a sideways glance at her husband).’ She dug into his pants and untucked part of his tee shirt. Boldly fingering the damp hem, she added, ‘Did you come straight over here from work?’ Dave shivered as the finger traced a quick spiral on his tanned mid drift and darted- fast as a hummingbird- in and out of the gap at the front of his trousers. Hascombe sat back in his chair watching the whole operation with a heady mix of envy and amazement. The bitch!! But, oh- he loved her in a strange way. Like a diminutive cat toying with an impossibly large mouse, the banker’s wife wove a cruel spell around the helpless buck. Dave’s pulse quickened as he inhaled her clean scent, battling an unaccustomed feeling of shamed excitement. The vixen graced him with a musical laugh and, ignoring her previous question, got to the point. ‘You look worried, Dave. Tell me about it…is there anything I can do?’ Her voice was all solicitude and Dave, hypnotized by her sparkling confidence and vaguely thinking of Cathy’s standing offer to help, swallowed his pride and grasped the fateful straw.

He told her the story in a rush of words, all the while watching the silent banker through the corner of his eye. The telling helped Dave to calm down. His voice was steady; deep masculine tones, dispassionate yet sincere. Finished at last, he ruined the illusion of righteous competence by shoving his hands in his pockets and bowing his head. Though the effect wasn’t intended, it electrified the odd couple watching his performance. Hascombe glanced at his wife and she licked her lips willing him to read her mind. She flashed a silent thought his way- I know all about your play room, dear! You knew that I knew…didn’t you??? The banker glanced at his lap, measuring the spreading wet spot, then back at his wife. He returned a thought- It’s been two weeks since you got fucked, dear…but not by me. She arched an eyebrow and sent him courage like blowing a kiss- Do something darling. Think of those handcuffs in your desk drawer… The banker sighed, gathered the proffered courage, and offered Dave a chair.

‘Mr. McGuiness,’ the Hascombe’s voice dripped with portentous concern, ‘this is a very serious matter. You have offered to pay…er…excuse me, to help in some way…’ the phrase hung in the air like an accusation. ‘But actually, you have no means of doing so. I’m not an unreasonable man, Mr. McGuiness. May I ask you for some suggestions?’ Dave squirmed in his chair like a prisoner sweating out an interrogation. He had dared to hope and felt it slipping away. ‘I…I could, maybe, work for you, sir. Like on weekends or something,’ he paused, vaguely encouraged by the banker’s silence. ‘I’m pretty strong, Mr. Hascombe, and could move heavy stuff around, do some building projects if you have any. I’d be your gofer…shit, Mr. Hascombe, you name it! I’d do just about anything, sir.’ Dave’s transparent sincerity, animal grace and exquisite mix of resolute strength and humility radiated from a strapping body primed for action. His focused will demanded a response and Hascombe was happy to oblige. He looked over the stud’s broad shoulder at his wife and repressed a smile. Roberta, for once, seemed overwhelmed; pale and breathless, all pretense scrubbed from her pretty face, she delicately fingered her crotch with a long, painted fingernail. Dave stared at the banker, oblivious to the pantomime enacted behind him. Hascombe fumbled in a box and extracted a cigar, casually decapitated one end of the smooth shaft, ran his tongue slowly over its taut surface, and lit a match. He blew the smoke from thin lips in an aromatic cloud. ‘The times we live in, Mr. McGuiness, are soft. People think they are entitled; that they somehow deserve the good life. You don’t strike me like that sort of man.’ Dave dared to hope again. Hascombe continued, ‘The past, of course, was much different. Have you ever heard of indentured servitude, Mr. McGuiness?’ ‘What? Like a slave?’ Dave was nonplussed. ‘Oh no…no!’ the banker flashed a patronizing smile. ‘A slave had no choice. But, a man could sell himself into service for a debt. Many a sacrifice was offered in this way- men selling themselves- just for a time, mind you- to…save their families.’ Hascombe warmed to his subject (in more ways than one) and continued, ‘Please, humor me Mr. McGuiness! I know I can be old fashioned at times.’ He glanced at his wife and wickedly added, ‘Isn’t that right, Roberta?’ Mrs. Hascombe looked at him blankly and whispered, ‘Yes, dear.’ Dave saw exactly where the conversation was going and simply couldn’t believe it. He stared intently at the banker. ‘Dave… I will make you an offer that you, of course, can freely accept or reject. I would be willing to indenture you to my and Mrs. Hascombe’s service in exchange for the indefinite postponement and even partial remission of your parent’s debt.’ Dave’s heart leapt with jubilation. ‘Make no mistake, though, Dave! Your indenture is understood to be unconditional. You will, in accord with the contract drawn up between ourselves and on the days appointed, be our slave for all practical purposes- without rights or recourse, subject to discipline, obedient and disposed to whatever I or Mrs. Hascombe command. Is this understood? Do you need some time to think things over?’ In the rapid ticking of seconds since Dave heard the words ‘postponement’ and ‘partial remission’ his jubilation had, indeed, ebbed somewhat. He considered the terms and wondered what ‘discipline’ could possibly mean. The whole thing seemed crazy and archaic; the weird fantasy of an eccentric old fucker imagining himself to be a cross between Ebenezer Scrooge, Rhett Butler, and a lord of the manor. Shit! he thought, what it boils down to is I do some work for him on weekends, just like I suggested in the first place. If he wants to play word games, no problem… The banker watched the young buck intently, reading his thoughts. It would soon be time for a little testing, but he waited as seconds mutated to minutes and was finally rewarded when Dave shrugged, hooked a crooked smile and said, ‘Yeah, I guess that sounds OK by me. Thank you, sir.’

‘Well, that’s fine then!!’ He scrawled a few lines on a piece of paper and shoved it across the desk. Chuckling, he motioned to Dave, ‘Obviously, we can’t draw up a legal contract, so this will have to do. As I said, humor me…now, please sign.’ Dave leaned forward and casually scrawled his signature at the bottom of the page. He sat back, waiting for his first appointment details and dismissal. Hascombe had other ideas. ‘You are now indentured to my service according to the terms discussed. Stand up, boy.’ ‘What the fuck?’ Dave muttered under his breath, paused, briefly considered the whiplash tone of the other man’s voice, and lumbered to his feet. The banker, barely able to contain his glee, rose from his chair and crossed the room. Dave gaped wide-eyed in a revelatory flash of pure revulsion at the wet spot staining the old man’s slacks. My God!! The bastard’s turned on by all of this! he thought. Hascombe laid a hand firmly on the stud’s shoulder and felt an electric shudder run through the younger man’s big body. He guided Dave to the center of the room. ‘Look what I bought, Roberta! Does he please you?’ She smiled demurely and managed a throaty whisper, ‘Oh yes, darling. Very much.’ Dave resisted a gathering sense of unreality and blushed with humiliation. He wanted desperately to leave, but Hascombe’s hand remained on his shoulder. The ‘master’ finally stepped back and surveyed his new buck. ‘Stand up straight, boy.’ Dave watched himself in resigned amazement as he slowly complied. Squared shoulders, spine straight, long, corded arms passive at his sides, planted on thick, denim clad legs, just slightly spread; Dave was the picture of healthy manhood and the forced posture of submission rankled to the core of his being. He stared straight ahead, blue eyes a kaleidoscope of conflicted emotion. Hascombe approved; the buck was doing fine and it was beginning to look as if he would pass this first crucial test. ‘I take it you’re used to back breaking labor?’ he snapped. Dave’s eyes shifted to his scuffed boots and he mumbled, ‘Yeah, I reckon so.’ ‘Hmmm, yes. You do seem like a healthy…ah…specimen. Let’s have a look.’ The tall buck felt like a prized animal as he endured the drilling scrutiny of the fucking pervert and guessed (wrongly) that this was the intent of the other man’s remark. He was quickly disabused of the notion and his breath hitched in shocked surprise when the banker’s nimble hands pulled the tail of his tee shirt from faded jeans and hiked the warm cotton up around Dave’s shoulders. He submitted like a skittish horse as the banker probed the warm contours of his muscled back. Hascombe’s mouth went dry as the humiliated buck’s twitching muscles responded to his random exploration. Satisfied, the trembling banker flipped the tee shirt back into place and slapped Dave lightly on the faded seat of his jeans. ‘You’ll do,’ he said and Dave exhaled a long sigh.

Hascombe took a seat next to his wife and the pair leisurely sized up their amazing acquisition. Dave’s mind was reeling with confusion. This wasn’t what he expected and his instincts shrieked a chorus of variegated responses to the ordeal he had just been put through. He wanted to kick the banker’s fat ass then fuck his wife against the wall, but most of all, he wanted to get the hell out of there. He thought of his mother’s tearful phone call- not two hours before- and Cathy’s unwitting rebuke. I’m all they have!! Hascombe interrupted with a fast query, ‘Are they expecting you back at the site today, Dave?’ The business-like tone, following the surreal experience of his humiliating examination threw Dave further off balance and he responded without thinking, ‘No, sir. Boss said to take the day off.’ He immediately regretted his truthfulness. ‘Ah, that’s good, then, we can start today.’ Hascombe looked at his watch, ‘Half past eleven. Tell you what, Dave- go home, get something to eat, take a shower or whatever.’ He scrawled something on a piece of paper and handed it to the bemused construction worker. ‘This is my address. I want you there at one o’clock sharp. No need to change clothes, come just as you are now and we’ll set you to work. Got it?’ His tone brooked no contradiction and Dave, vaguely aware that he was barreling past the point of no return, looked down at the burgundy carpet and mumbled, ‘Yes, sir, I’ll be there.’

CONTINUE THE STORY:PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

A hunky Latino blue-collar worker with a penchant for drinking suffers his through his smelly feet being worshiped and tickled by his horny neighbor in this hot new tickling and foot fetish story by Denis.

Tickling the Drunkard’s Soles
by Denis

A temporary neighbor I met in a town where I lived for some years gave me an unexpected chance to tickle his feet one night when he was boozed-up. Everyone called him Henry, although I supposed this wasn’t his real name. He came from some Caribbean island, but he didn’t stay long in the town where I was living, just about two years. He rented an apartment in a building near me. He was a quiet and reserved man who earned his money hard and honestly. Many neighbors used to hire him for doing jobs as electrician, carpentry, plumbing and lots of others things, as was very good at all them. Henry used to work for the building company and tradesmen of the town –this was the main reason why he came, to get money and then leave. You could say Henry was an irreproachable guy, but he did have a fault: he was a pisshead. He knew all the bars in town and visited them frequently. When he had a few drinks in his system, the taciturn boy turned into a chatty nice one. Sometimes he even got involved in drunken brawls.

Henry was a ruggedly handsome hunk in his thirties with dark chocolate complexion, 6’ tall, broad-shouldered frame, wavy glossy black hair, intense black eyes, a perpetual five o’clock shadow and deep voice. He spent everyday in work boots, always a different type that made me wonder how his big feet would feel inside them for so long.

One day I was coming back from an unsuccessful job which had me very upset and starving for a good pair of male feet. But then my fortune changed overnight. That evening the bar on the outskirts of town was filled to the brim with drunken revelers; it was someone’s birthday. Henry was among them as expected. As I was coming home, I saw him leaving the bar and getting in his van. It was after 2 am and I quickly noticed he could hardly drive. He soon stopped in a lonely ditch at the side of the road. I got out of my car with my flashlight and slowly approached the van. I was worried that something was wrong with him but the first thing that caught my attention was his feet dangling through the open window. And they were just in socks!

I was delightfully shocked at this sight. “This is a funny way to doze down in a car”, I thought. I peeked inside and noticed that he was comatose, lying on his back over the driver seat while his head rested over his work backpack, his legs leaned forward toward window and calves perched on the edge of the window; hence his lower calves, ankles and feet hung outside the van enjoying the nightime breeze. I lit his face with my flashliight, but my hunky handyman was really plastered. He had also unbuttoned the upper part of his overalls so I could see his robust chest. The van smelt of beer, sweat and cigarettes. He was obviously working that day and went directly to the bar. A pair of huge rubber boots were laying on the floor of the cab. A wicked idea rushed into my head as my heart pumped wildly thanks to the pungent smell almost like ripe cheese wafting in the air, that unmistakable, distinctive and inimitable stench of unwashed feet.

Myy face was a mere inches away from his dangling doggies; those burly soles covered by white knee-length socks, bottoms grimy and damp. Every toe was perfectly outlined with five dirt-stains in both socks. I called to him but his brow just puckered and he released a grunt demanding to stay asleep. I stuck my nose beneath the toes, the pong would make someone retch but I didn’t move my head away until my lungs were filled. Yeah I admit it: I’m masochist about smelly male feet. Sniffing them is like an addict inhaling coke. I can say old Henry’s feet were worthy of being sniffed. Oh yeah, I might say these boys had not been bathed lately. I wondered about how Henry’s feet would be under their covering. Usually hard-working men have ugly and neglected feet, covered in calluses, ill toenails and other disgusting blemishes. But as I carefully peeled off his socks, I discovered that this wasn’t the case for Henry. My Latin neighbor had a pair of the most handsome feet I’ve seen in my life! His were rugged ones, but they were surprisingly in good shape. The removed socks retained the shape of his feet as if he had wearing them the whole week. I sniffed and touched those sweat-grimy socks onee more time and then I put them safely in my pocket.

Henry’s feet were big, I assessed by experience a size 12 ½ or 13. They were slightly paler than the rest of his dark chocolate body. The heels and balls were tough and quite hardened. The toes were long and plump, covered with tufts of hair. The unpedicured toenails were pearly in contrast with the chocolate of the skin. The soles were broad, beefy and yellowish except for his heels, ball under the toes and toe pads which showed dirty-salmon shades. His arches tended to wrinkle when the foot scrunched. Both soles showed old patches of dust and grime over the weather-beaten skin.There was a mole in the right arch and another in the heel.

I went to my car for my tool bag. I didn’t waste a second. I produced ropes and tied his wrists and arms with solid knots. I took care to blindfold him. Then I devoted myself to fix in place my precious, his bare feet. I rolled up the lower pants of his overalls so I could enjoy the manly sight of his hairy calves ending in those hunky feet. I locked his ankles with some loops and then I attached the knots to the front wheel of the van. “Let’s have dinner first”, I licked my own lips.

I slithered my finger between Henry’s pinkie and ring toes and released more of that intoxicating foot-smell. The gaps between the toes were sticky. There was no trace of athlete’s foot or anything. Henry’s feet smelt rank, but hadn’t any rot on them. Good, they were eatable! I moved my finger in each of these gaps to rub back and forth kindly; I know many dudes love this kind of foot massage between their toes. The fragrance pierced my nostrils like a sharp knife. Henry was drunk with alcohol, but I was drunk with the stink of his awesome feet!

I couldn’t help it, my foot starving overpowered me, so I leaned in with my mouth wide open and devoured those reeking masculine toes, first the big one, and then the second one and so on. Henry remained out of his mind in his drunky world. Next my tongue travelled lavishly along the massive sole by the yellow arch to the salmon heel which I munched as if I were eating a juicy peach. I caught the other foot starting from the heel and my tongue made the trip up to the fleshy ball and the toes. The man waggled his bound feet trying instinctively to recoil them, but he couldn’t escape from his sordid drunkenness. He was still oblivious to the fact that he was tied up.

I sucked on Henry’s succulent feet for long time. He was drowsily giggling while his toes jiggled from the licking. All the while that wonderful stench kept wafting from those tasty feet to my greedy nostrils and now glued all over my mouth straight to my brain. I held Henry’s ankles with both hands and guided his soles to the side I wanted to lick. Those alcoholic feet were very strong-tasting like real blue cheese. The grime was so engrained that it barely came off as I licked. Once I felt satisfied I’d go to another phase of our encounter.

“It’s cootchie-cootchie time now, my friend…” I said.

I started off with the classic tool, the feather. I had brought out a big stiff one and guided it to his left foot. I had another look at the rugged skin of his workman soles and I thought the feather wouldn’t be effective, but I decided to try anyway, so I glided slowly first the barbs along the arch. The feather went up, then down, then up again, then circling along the stocky heel, then climbing to the toes, then again crossing the arch. Any response except a vague wriggling of his toes. No reponse. I changed to the quill end of the feather and ran it along the side of one foot. No response. Then I slid it by the arch and got a nice stretching and shook the toes, but one second. I prickled the moles with the sharp point many times, he wiggled the foot and grunted. I slithered the feather in the gaps between the toes to obtain a funny wriggling from the digits; he settled his head down over the work backpack.

I changed to the fork and used it to prickle underneath the toes. Henry curled them momentarily. This man had a funny way to wiggle his toes and the arch got nicely wrinkled just how I love. If I had the chance to put him in stocks, I’d use my strings to hold his toes back and smooth his callused soles away. So I grabbed his right set of toes and held them back and I got the expected result: the rough surface of his sole got taut and free of all creases. God…THIS GUY HAD SUCH SEXY SOLES! I got to work by raking the fork up and down one, two, three, four times until the foot started to shake with each sweep. Henry began to stir against his will, he tried to look at what the hell was happening but he couldn’t see shit thanks to the blindfold. He started to ask and curse among roaring of his throaty voice. He was too much drunk to move properly and improvise an effective escape, so he tried to roll in the cab as he strained like crazy against his bonds; but the bonds held him tight.

All the while I didn’t stop of the raking his massive reeking soles with the fork. I showed them no mercy; they were hardy enough to endure my fork attack for some minutes. Henry tossed and turned more and more so I thought he was now lucid. He fought against the ropes furiously asking for who had tied him up like this and roaring tons of obscenities. When he was about to remove the blindfold from his eyes I went to try to hold his hands and secured them with more rope. We had a little struggle but finally I won and better fastened his wrists. Despite his agitation, he was still under the effects of the inebriation.

I returned to his feet among his futile threatening and curses. I tried to scratch his hardened soles with my natural nails but they were too rough. So I put my metal nails and repeated the movements the length of his handsome feet, tickling even his insteps. Henry shook and writhed his feet but I have to say that he never let out a laugh, just bellowing angrily while bucking and jolting inside the cab like a crazy drunken. Fucking luck! He isn’t too ticklish!, I thought disappointedly, but I didn’t give up yet.

His soles were sweaty but not yet slippery enough so I spread oil generously all over them. Next it was the turn of the brush and I began to sweep it from the heel to the ball faster and faster. Henry’s reaction was completely different this time, he convulsed uncontrollably and howled with the dribbling laughter of a drunkard. Ha, I’ve found your weak point, big man! I noticed his heels were exceptionally ticklish despite their toughness.

I brushed Henry’s soles for half an hour. Once his meat was completely tenderized I used the ballpoint and wrote a love letter over the wide heels. Henry’s laughter rose to higher levels of desperate screech. Although when I took the pinwheel and ran it by the plump ball under the big toe, Henry just lost it: unrestrained gales of laughter almost break the glass of the van. The man was extremely sensitive in the ball beneath the big toe, so I kept prickling and scratching every pointed tool over there and even I sadistically munched the tough flesh while the toe fought to clench against my face uselessly. I repeated the same treatment in the other foot. Poor Henry had to content himself to shake more heavily over the seat and guffaw-howl-screech like a madman.

The blindfold had fallen from his sweat-soaked face, but the foot-starving made me brave. I kept tickling him without worry of being discovered. Rivers of tears flew out of his closed eyes mixing with the sweat while his wide open mouth erupted loud and hoarse laughter to no end. The van shook at the pace of his jerking. He could break away from my ropes or do something but he stayed there undergoing that predicament under drunkenness. His screams echoed around in the that lonely road. There was just me and Henry, my cruel hands and his stunning, supersensitive and malodorous soles. The foot tickling was extreme but I saw such a resilient man facing his fate heroically.

I lost track of time, I only knew that I was using all my tools in an endless cycle and Henry seemed to be on the brink of sanity. My huge-soled friend was worn-out and his laughter became silent; he was about to collapse. I stopped the tickling; Henry sighed, panted like a newborn baby and passed out.

Now I knew: my chocolate handyman owned not only gorgeous but sensitive feet. I untied him. Then I checked to make sure his dirty knee-length socks were in my pocket and left. He remained there, drunken-comatose in his van with his enormous bare feet dangling out of the windows, perfuming the air.

There were many others chances to play with the good-looking and stinky size 13 soles of my neighbor Henry. Would you like to enjoy them?

Stepson's Doom – Part 7 With the help of Mr Byron and the other men, Les Caldwell thwarts his stepson’s attempt to run away from home and instead captures him and a friend […]