A young man's search for a mysterious biker leads him to rough sexual adventures in a leather club.

Moth Man - Part 2
by Dixon
Art by Bill Ward

Like a moth to a flame, Duke returned every night that week, his persistence rewarded that Friday. He hadn’t made it through the first hall before he saw a bear of a man harnessed and hung, about to be serviced by a dutiful young slave.

He recognized Duke, Jr., and with a simple gesture with one hand, signaled for him to turn around for confirmation. He obliged, grinning with satisfaction that the man had noticed his broad ass, maybe even regretted not taking him that first night.

Convinced that the straps of his leather jock pulled his buttocks up nice and plump, he turned back, disappointed that the Duke had both hands clasped behind the slave’s head, suffocating him with his gorgeous dick.

Fuck. Should he turn back around and bend over, tugging his jock down to make his ass irresistible, his invitation perfectly clear?

“Jake,” he heard the Duke shout out. Was he calling off the slave? No, Jake appeared behind Duke, another bear of a man, obviously a buddy of the Duke’s.

“I want another hour or so with this sack of shit, but want to satisfy this horny ho before we head out. Take care of him for me – anything short of tapping that bitching ass.”

“Got it,” the buddy said, then with a grip of Duke, Jr.’s neck, he pressed him down on his knees. “Now, ho, do you understand Duke here has put me in charge of your ass?”

Duke looked up at the man, who was gripping the ridge bulging against his leather chaps. Another bear hung like a horse.

”Yes, Sir,” he said obediently.

“She’s a classy ho, Duke. Mind if I show her off with some of the guys, letting them help her pass the time?”

“No fucking or fisting,” was all the Duke said.

“What’s your name, ho?” the bear asked.

Duke didn’t dare divulge his obsession with the big man, adopting his name. “Kris,” he said.

“Chris, like short for Christina? Classy Christina. Sure wish I’d seen you first, before Duke put his claim on you. But you can still make him proud by entertaining the pack.”

Referring to his buddies as a pack made Duke think of a pack of wolves about to devour him. His obsession with Duke had led him into this dark world where he found himself with a mixture of fear and excitement. He understood the lure of leather, the scent, the texture – and the animals who wore it as a badge of identity. Cow hide – their perfect symbol of all the cows they had processed as pieces of meat.

Here he was Duke’s prized cow, claimed and yoked, turned out with the wolf pack until Duke was ready to breed him. He wished he wasn’t aroused by it all, the flame burning high in his groin.

The nameless bear buddy lectured Duke like he was his pimp, instructing him on his expectations before handing him over to a paying client. Make that clients. Duke apparently wasn’t the first bitch he had shared with his pack.

Butch was loyal as they come, with a fetish for flogging the hide of healthy cows like Duke. Once he knew this was Duke’s boy, he’d be sure not to leave a mark. Grady, on the other hand, worked a couple summers in a meat packing plant. His fetish was stringing up a carcass where he could get at any prime cut.

There were other members of the pack who’d have to wait for their turn, assuming Duke proved to be the classy Christina his pimp judged him to be. The flame flickered, Duke not sure he had a masochistic streak when it came to being whipped or strung up like a beef carcass.

As a full-fledged member of the Pump House, would he end up a volunteer, tied to a pole in the stable, waiting for someone to pay $25 to use and abuse him? Or would other members see the pack of wolves enjoying his hide, and line up to flash their dicks, to entice him, to draw him into their fire?

He’d postured as one of them, strolling around searching for Duke, witnessing men doing things to other men he couldn’t have imagined, getting aroused, lusting, fueling jerk off fantasies. He’d deflected passes out of fear he wouldn’t be able to handle what the man might have in mind. Yet, he found the money to become a member, to come back night after night when he had little encouragement that Duke had frequented the place recently.

Buster didn’t arouse Duke at all, his resemblance to Duke notwithstanding. His flame was probably dampened by his fear of wimping out from the first lashes.

He sucked it up, flinching but not writhing or shouting out from the first round, surprised at how the heat of his skin permeated deep into the muscle. Then he learned how he’d remember what Butch taught him as the big hands ran across the affected areas. Reading about the pain / pleasure principle was so inept for feeling it. He felt his cock enlarge, forgetting his intent to remain silent, moaning from the erotic touching.

The second round was more severe, Duke jerking his body in different directions trying to escape the concentration in one area. Butch would simply hold him with one hand, master-fully turning the pink to a deeper red before he’d massage the muscle and Duke’s desires. For the first time, he understood the control Butch had over him, and how a man could be-come addicted to discipline.

Given a choice, he would have bartered to remain with Butch until Duke was ready for him, especially when he almost blacked out when Grady jerked him upside down in mid air. The lesson was that meat processing plants are poor training grounds for BDSM practitioners.

He found Duke a Grade A piece of meat, groping every portion of muscle – the biceps and forearms, the pectorals, the lats, the buttocks, the thighs and calves. Some grabs were deeper than others, until Duke bucked from the pain.

The worst ‘processing’ though, was looping a chain around his groin, groping and then jerking Duke to a bonafide erection. With his hands looped with chain and spread wide Duke was unable to reach his dick to finish the job, experiencing meat packer edging. When Grady lowered him he encircled both arms before lifting him upright, leaving him blue balled, short of ejaculation.

“I hate that rump is off limits,” Grady lamented. “I’d love to check out the internal organs. That would take too long, though, ‘cause my time is up.”

Duke thought Grady was taking him back to the leader of the pack, if the gang of seedy thugs would just get out of the way. Grady released his arms, the thugs pulling him into their midst.


Leave a Reply