It was growing dark when the Lincoln pulled up in front of the colonial styled mansion. Garth and Wolf got out of the car and led the half-naked Mitch up the steps of the imposing front porch
The front door was opened by a large, burley man wearing a butler's black trousers, white shirt, black tie and a striped gray vest. He reminded Mitch of a better dressed version of Don Carlo's goons, right down to the square head sitting on his broad shoulders. He didn't seem the least bit surprised by the condition of the man standing between the two uniformed guards.
"Come in, gentlemen. Master Johnson's party has already begun." The butler said. He was clearly addressing only Garth and Wolf as "gentleman", hardly even glancing at Mitch."
Mitch was "escorted" into the entrance hall. The black marble floor felt cold under his bare feet. Paintings that looked original and expensive covered the dark paneled walls. Closed double doors lined the hall and must have lead to various public rooms Mitch thought. Sounds of music and a large crowd of people came from the closed doors at the end of the long hall. He was no longer protected by the club and his own room for the night. He was actually a little frightened.
"You might want to get the 'boy' cleaned up before he begins entertaining Mr. Johnson and his guests." Garth told the butler, looking a little sheepish. "We took a little detour on the way here. The guy's balls are still full of cream, so I didn't think Mr. Johnson would mind."
"Yes, I can tell by the spunk covered shorts and the way his sweaty body stinks." The butler replied, in a gravelly voice. "You two owe me one, big-time. I'll get him cleaned up, but he better be able shoot his wad at least a dozen times tonight for the party guests and be fully re-charged for another bout in the morning, or I'll have to reveal your 'indiscretion' to the Master Johnson. He doesn't like to be disappointed!"
"No problem," Garth said, smiling again, "I've seen him in action. One night he shot more than two dozen loads during a three hour session before his big balls were drained dry." Of course Garth was exaggerating, but it wasn't far from the truth.
The butler, his name turned out to be Max, reached past Mitch's hard, throbbing cock sticking out of the waistband of his cutoffs and ripped the rest of the fly's buttons open. He, none to gently, pulled the man's heavy balls out and squeezed them, hard, causing more pre-cum to drip from the swollen dick-head. Max nodded his approval to the guards. My god, Mitch thought, they're treating me like some kind of stud horse. But fuck, that's what I've become. His dick was still hard and he really wanted to get off again - soon!
"Yeah, they seem real full but if the fucker fails to perform up to Master Johnson's standards, he'll expect you two to take his place," Max said to Garth and Wolf while he kept squeezing Mitch's testicles, "I'm sure you remember the last time you had to sub for a stripper-slave. I'll bet it took two weeks for your balls to recover from the abuse they received." Garth and Wolf were looking a little nervous.
The butler released Mitch's balls and gave him a shove toward to a small door to the left of the entrance. He told him open it and go inside. It led to a small living room with nondescript furnishings like you would find in a moderately priced hotel. There were no personal details except for a pile of dog-eared muscle magazines on the coffee table. This was Max's quarters.
A slap on Mitch's ass, hanging exposed from his torn cutoffs signaled him to go through an open doorway into the bedroom. It was just as nondescript -- a double bed made up with military precision and a TV and VCR on a chest of drawers across from it. The cover of a videotape box on top of the VCR pictured a naked muscle-boy porn star strung up on some kind of wooden cross while a uniformed man was beating his erect cock with a small whip. Well, at least I know what his beat-off fantasies are Mitch thought. They weren't any different from the club's members. He had certainly received that kind treatment from some of them.
"I'm the guy in the uniform, ass-hole. It's none of your business but the boss produces porn flicks and I make a few extra bucks when I perform in them." Max said, reading Mitch's mind. "Now, strip off your shorts and take a shower. The bathroom's on your left."
Mitch bent down and pulled of his cutoffs, trying not to tear them anymore. He also gave the guy a good view of his ass-hole. He handed the grungy denim rag to Max, who had his hand out, and went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Max tossed the shorts on his bed and followed Mitch into the bathroom.
"Leave the shower curtain open; I want to be sure you clean yourself real good. Pay special attention to you cock and balls and douche yourself too. The boss likes his boys real clean. I'm going to check you myself when your done." Max said in a threatening voice.
Mitch did as he was told, as he learned to always do, including douching himself with the penis shaped shower head on the flexible hose. He washed himself the sexiest way he could -- actually posing for the butler. He figured if he could win the guy over, things would go better for him tonight. Max watched every move he made, but showed no emotion, not even when Mitch flashed his old big stripper smile at the stoic man. For some reason, Mitch felt he had to win this man over. He could, obviously, never afford a club membership, but he did represent some kind of protection in this new environment.
The butler held a big towel for Mitch and even dried him with it when he got out of the shower. Then he made Mitch bend over and spread his legs so he could inspect his ass-hole and grease it up with a long, thick index finger.
"O.K., you can stand up. You're ready for 'presentation', but here are the ground rules. You will begin by dancing for Mr. Johnson and his guests in the most erotic way you know how. Obviously he's seen you perform at the club or you wouldn't be here now. You will continue dancing until he tells you to stop and then you will circulate and 'entertain' the guests individually or in groups.
You will perform whatever kinky 'sex-act' they demand, no matter how demeaning, humiliating or repugnant you think it is. And you will look like you're enjoying it. Mr. Johnson has a dozen of his 'stars', including the one on the videotape cover, entertaining at the party too. He may want you to perform with them. Garth, Wolf and I will be around to be sure you don't try to back out of anything.
Considering what you're costing Mr. Johnson for the weekend, you shouldn't need us to remind you to behave properly. You'll find your 'costume' on the bed, put it on and let's go 'dancer'!"
Mitch returned to the bedroom, followed by the butler. Laying on the bed, were four leather cuffs, a three-inch wide leather collar with metal studs and four rings attached, and a three-inch wide ball stretcher. Oh fuck, he thought, this will be a rough night. That thought was enough to make his hard cock begin to drip pre-cum again.
The hulking butler helped Mitch put on his "costume". He fastened the wrist-cuffs with small padlocks and had Mitch raise each leg, while he attached the ankle cuffs. The studded leather collar forced Mitch to keep his chin up high when the butler fastened it in place with another padlock. He couldn't tilt his head down at all. Mitch reached for the ball-stretcher, but the butler slapped his hand away. He told him he would attach it to be sure it was tight enough, besides, Mitch couldn't even tilt his head enough to see his balls. He ordered Mitch to stand a parade rest and Mitch immediately assumed that position.
Max knelt on the floor in front of Mitch, disappearing from his view.
Mitch felt a large, firm hand grip his testicles, pulling them down deep into his scrotum. He winced from the pain but maintained his position. Then he could feel the wide leather tube wrapping around the stretched skin, keeping his testicles far below the root of his dick. Another strap, a slender one, was attached separating his two balls in their thin scrotal bag.
Finishing his job as "dresser", Max stood up, towering over Mitch.
"You look real good, fucker. Your two goose egg sized balls look like they're going to burst right out of their skin." He said, his face only inches from Mitch's. "The boss is going to love your new look." The final part of his "costume" was a padlock that fastened the D rings on his wrists, holding them behind his back and a short chain that attached them his collar, pulling them, painfully to the middle of his back.
"Mr. Johnston didn't ask for another addition to your 'costume' but I think it would be appropriate." Max opened his top dresser drawer and pulled out a long, thick butt-plug. Mitch was still in his parade rest position when Max knelt down behind him and pushed the butt-plug up his well greased ass-hole.
"Now you look like a proper slave!" He said coming around in front of Mitch to inspect his work.
Fuck, Mitch thought, that word again, but he really did feel like some kind of male slave.
The pressure on his balls hurt but made Mitch even hotter. And the butt-plug kept rubbing on his prostrate. He thought he was going to blow another wad right here in the butler's bed room, but then he felt a hard slap on his swollen cock-head.
"That should cool you down. Save the man-juice for your paid audience." The butler ordered. Mitch's piss-slit opened wide and a stream of sticky pre-cum started to drip from it. Max stared at Mitch's oversized glans for awhile, allowing a puddle of his pre-cum to form on the carpet
Mitch felt his balls being pulled out in front of his body. Max had hooked a short leash to the stretcher and lead him out the door and back into the entrance hall, where Garth and Wolf were waiting for them. Mitch was walking with his legs still spread to accommodate the plug in his ass.
Wolf and Garth let out loud whistles. "Fuck, dancer, now I see what you were born to be," Garth said, grinning and staring at the bound Mitch. "A slave!" Mitch tried to ignore them.
"How will I know which one is Mr..'er -- Master Johnson, Sir?" Mitch asked the butler, as they marched toward the doors at the end of the hall with his big dick waving in front of him.
"Don't worry, you'll know him." Max replied. Garth and Wolf opened the doors and Max lead Mitch into the room by the ball leash.
The enormous rectangular room looked even bigger than it was, because the walls and high ceiling were painted black. Large wood and iron candelabras, ablaze with candles lined the walls. Two matching chandeliers, with at least a hundred candles each, hung from chains in the ceiling. The candles provided the only light in the room. Low, Roman style black leather couches surround a half-a-dozen round stone platforms, each eight-foot in diameter -- three on each side of the room.
Men, dressed in black leather motorcycle boots, jackets, pants and caps were reclining on the couches watching naked men, "costumed" like Mitch, writhing on the platforms to music more throbbing, driving and sexual than any he had ever danced to before. Thin, muscular, hairless and heavily tattooed young men, naked except for their metal collars and cock rings, carried drink trays, and scurried around the room waiting on the guests. As they bent down to serve the guests, Mitch could see the scars on their backs and buttocks from many whippings. Their cocks were unusually long and only tumescent until a guest would grasp one in his hand and pull it, hard, into an erection.
The dancers, Mitch learned later, were imported for the party from private male stripper clubs around the world -- affiliated with the club where Mitch danced. The waiters, on the other hand, were "owned" by Master Johnson - true male slaves.
The platforms and couches formed a wide corridor leading to a raised dais at the end of the room. A large man in his sixties, also dressed in pieces of black leather, slouched on a massive, carved wooden throne with candelabras on both sides. His jacket had fallen open, revealing a heavily muscled chest and belly, covered with black and gray hair. Except for his jacket and boots he was naked from the waist down. Two naked muscle-men knelt in front of him, bound just like Mitch including butt-plugs, were taking turns licking his balls and sucking his cock while he stroked their buttocks and backs with a long, thin buggy whip to encourage them to perform their tasks well.
He looked up when Mitch and the guards entered the room and motioned Max, his butler, to bring Mitch to him. Garth and Wolf stayed behind, lusting after a dancer who had been ordered to place his hard dick in the callused hand of a guest and masturbate himself in the tight hand until he shot a load of sticky male-cream all over his own chest and belly. He shot the painful wad out of his leather wrapped balls, moaning loudly, just as Mitch and the butler passed him. Mitch didn't see it, but he knew the dancer would be order to lick his own cum off the guest's hand.
As Mitch was led down the long aisle, the guests turned from the entertainment in front of them and admired the new male-stripper. Each thought about the sexual acts he would like to demand of the sexy new addition tonight.
Max released the leash, and Mitch mounted the dais. A slap on his bare ass cued him to start dancing for Master Johnson. Even without the use of his arms, pinned behind him, he danced more erotically than he ever had before, completely turned on by his bondage and surroundings.
At one point, he rubbed his hard dick over the whip-stripped backs and buttocks of the two crouching, strippers who were servicing Master Johnson, shooting a large, sticky load of his cum all over them. Master Johnson seemed to like that.
A Night With Master Johnson
In fact, Master Johnson liked everything Mitch did with his undulating body. He liked it when Mitch spread his legs as wide as he could, and bent over to display his tight ass-hole to the client, Master Johnson stung the tender puckered lips with a dozen light lashes of the tip of the buggy whip. Mitch shot another load on the sixth painful stroke.
After forty-five minutes of continues dancing, Master Johnson realized that Mitch was wearing out, and told him he could take a break.
"Leash the 'boy' and give him a guided tour of the festivities, Max." He ordered. Max did, and started the tour at the first stone platform. The dancer on the platform, one of Master Johnson's porn stars, was dancing with his legs spread by a thirty-inch long metal stretcher bar attached just above his knees. His hands were cuffed to each side of a wide leather belt cinched tightly around his waist making it even harder to maintain his balance as he gyrated to the music. Mitch could see the evidence of an earlier heavy whipping on the hunky man's back, buttocks and thighs. The dancer kept smiling, lasciviously, as if he would welcome any torment the guests would order. Mitch wondered how much of that was "acting" and how much was real.
At the next platform, the dancer was "working" the floor between the couches. He was also sporting a knee spreader and hands fastened to his waist. He would stop at one couch, bending over to display his tender ass-hole while a guest whipped it with a long, thin, steel rod. Then, when the ass-hole whipping stopped he would move to the next couch where his cock and balls were attacked by a guest with a small penis whip. When he finished his circuit of torture by the twelve men who surrounded his dance platform, he had to begin again. This time he knelt between the couches and masturbated his painfully welted erection in the clenched fist of one guest while the one behind him, roughly, finger-fucked his well-marked ass-hole. He had shot six loads from his leather-stretched balls, by the time he had completed his second set of rounds.
A dancer shared the third platform with a partner, another porn star stripper. Both had their legs and arms stretch wide by three and a half foot long spreader bars attached to their wrists and ankles. One was hanging upside down from chains in the ceiling, while the other hung by his wrists. They were hung in a perfect sixty-nine position and sucked each others cocks enthusiastically, encouraged by the guests who surrounded them, whipping their ass-cheeks with leather straps. Max told Mitch the strapping would continue until each had shot three loads of cum. At the last minute, before an orgasm, the man had to withdraw his dick from the other's mouth and shoot his load over his partner's face. If he didn't withdraw at just the right time his partner would be forced to swallow his cum, and the orgasm wouldn't count.
In other circles of pain and sex, guests were hanging weights on their dancer's ball stretchers. All of them attached tit clamps they could pull and twist while they tortured the naked muscle-hunks hard cocks and leather-stretched balls. Dancers were being fucked with hard rubber dildos, until they shot their wads for the guests. Every time he came, the dancer to force painful smile and say "Thank you Sir's!" in a loud voice.
Mitch was led back to the dais by his balls and continued to entertain Master Johnson who had decided to keep Mitch for his own use. Mitch had to dance three more long sets for him, but he figured it was better than being tossed to the crowd for their entertainment. It turned out to be only marginally better.
To conclude the festivities, Master Johnson had Max attach a leather tether to a ring at the bottom of Mitch's ball-stretcher and hand it to him. He used it to guide the dancer, close enough to use his buggy whip on the man's cock and balls. Mitch shot four loads that way. The shaft of dick was covered with painful, tiny welts by the time Master Johnson lost interest in that particular torture game. Mitch was being introduced to the S&M world, big-time. Garth, standing at the back of the room, almost felt sorry for him.
As the party drew to a close, the guests began to participate in a more personal way, fucking the men's mouths and ass-holes with their own dicks instead of dildos. This was saved until the end of the party, because most of the middle-aged men couldn't manage more than one or two orgasms.
"Take the 'boy' to my bedroom and fasten a wide spreader to his ankles." Mr. Johnson told Max. "And have Wolf and Garth join us."
Max led Mitch, by the leash on his balls, through the orgy of party guests sexually torturing the male-strippers looking for the two guards. Garth and Wolf had removed the belts from their uniform pants and opened their flies to expose two very hard and very big cocks. They were moving through the various groups of guests and bound, naked dancers, whipping a stripper's ass here and there with their belts. Whenever they encountered an empty "slave" mouth or ass-hole they filled it with their own cocks. Max signaled them to follow him. The guards knew was coming next and grinned as they joined Max and Mitch.
Mitch was thrown, face down, on the oversized, leather covered bed. The two guards pulled his legs wide apart while Max fastened the spreader to the man's ankle-cuffs. The short chains attaching his wrists to his collar were removed and the cuffs were re-attached directly to a ring in the back of the collar. The guards stood at the sides of the bed, while Max pulled Mitch's dripping erection from under his belly, stretching it painfully back, exposing it between his legs, letting the surface of the bed keep it imprisoned there.
The door to the bedroom opened and Master Johnson walked in. He immediately began shedding his leathers as he gazed at Mitch's naked body, spread out like a human banquet, on his bed.
Mitch turned his head to watch the man undress. Master Johnson, was in unbelievable condition for a man in his sixties. He had had gland treatments in Switzerland and while his face showed his years, his body didn't. He was at least six-feet tall and covered with muscles. His hard, red cock, eight-inches long and a good four-inches thick, stood straight out from the curly hairs that covered his abdomen and groin areas. He was well primed from all the mouthing his cock had received from the various dancers who had crouched before his wide spread legs during the party. Now he was going to relieve himself using Mitch's hot mouth and ass.
He climbed up on his bed and sat down in front of Mitch, spreading his legs around Mitch's body, his crotch against the top of Mitch's head. He lifted the dancer's head and slide his crotch forward, forcing his thick cock into Mitch's mouth and down his throat. Mitch gagged and choked on thick dick but swallowed it as he had trained himself to do.
"Garth, Wolf -- put your belts to good use and give the bastard's ass a good workout. I want you to encourage the cocksucker to give me the best head I've ever had." Johnson ordered.
The guard took their positions on either side of the bed and began taking turns slapping the dancer's ass-cheeks with their wide leather belts.
"The ass whipping will continue until you bring me off 'dancer' -- make it real good or you won't be able to sit down for a month!" Master Johnson told Mitch. He made the word "dancer" sound like it meant male-whore.
Mitch did his best and even shot a load of his own cum on the bed covers as he swallowed Master Johnson's thick cream. Johnson didn't even wait for his dick to stop throbbing. He pulled it out of Mitch's mouth, letting the final spurts cover the man's lips. Then he crawled around the muscle-man's body, moving between his wide-spread legs and shoved his still hard dripping dick between Mitch's welted ass-cheeks, and into the tight asshole. He began humping his rent-boy in earnest.
"Max," he said in a throaty, excited voice, "fuck the bastard's throat and make it hurt him like I'm hurting his hole."
Max climbed on the bed, opened pants and knelt in front of Mitch as his boss hard-fucked the man. He didn't sit down on the bed, but instead, pulled Mitch's head up by the hair and shoved the dancer's mouth over his throbbing dick. Mitch, his upper body bent uncomfortably back, couldn't use his hands, which were still attached to his collar, to support himself. The whole weight of his stretched torso was supported by the cock shoved down his throat.
"GARTH! You and Wolf use your belts on my ass -- I'll need a little extra stimulation to cum again this soon." Johnson shouted at the guards as he continued Mitch's "punishment" fuck.
Garth and Wolf had removed their shirts by now. They were hot and sweaty from the physical work of whipping butt. Mitch was becoming delirious from the double fucking he was receiving, its rhythm timed to the sound of the leather belts slapping male flesh. He shot another load at the same time Master Johnson filled his bowels with cum and the butler shot a load down his throat.
Both, heavy breathing men, climbed off the bed, leaving Mitch laying there, twitching and moaning. Mitch's ass was red and hot from the belting he had received, and dick and balls still stung from the buggy-whip marks. His throat and rectum had been fucked raw, but he was still hot and panting with sexual excitement. He couldn't believe it, but he wanted more. He wanted Garth and Wolf to fuck him too. Mitch shocked himself with he heard his own voice cry out.
"Please, please sirs, FUCK me again -- oh please -- please sirs."
The four men stood around the bed, watching the hot stripper writhe and moan, crying for more sexual abuse. Garth and Wolf had waited for this day from the time he had arrived at the strip club. Master Johnson just smiled to himself, ignoring Mitch's cries, and told Max to take the dancer to his own quarters.
"If I keep him here, I won't get any sleep tonight. Fuck him if you like, but don't let him cum again, and be sure he gets some rest. I want him ready to entertain my guests at brunch tomorrow with those big low-hangers of his full of male-juice."
Max removed the stretcher from Mitch's ankles, but not the cuffs nor wrist and collar restraints. The big man lifted the sweat-soaked dancer from the bed and carried him back to his small, Spartan apartment. By now, the other male strippers had been distributed among the various guest rooms for more sexual abuse and torture. The house was quiet, except for an occasional loud scream of pain.
Max deposited Mitch on his back on the narrow bed in his quarters and began undressing. He was a big and muscular at Mitch had thought. His butler's uniform hadn't hidden anything except his lack of body-hair. Even his pubs had been shaved, making his extremely thick but short five-inch erect cock appear bigger. He looked like a professional heavy-weight wrestler.
As the butler climbed on the bed, Mitch could see scars from a recent heavy whipping. They covered every part of his body except his groin. Shit, Mitch thought, this guy is Mr. Johnson's slave! It was a new concept for him.
Max didn't fuck like a slave though. He pulled Mitch's sweat-covered, muscular body against his with brutal strength. He attacked Mitch's cum-filled ass-hole with his thick pole like a dog in heat -- rutting and moaning until he spent himself. When Mitch started to quiver with the beginnings of an orgasm, the butler/slave slapped and squeezed his dick, hard, to force the cum back into his balls. Mitch yelled in pain but knew the man was following his Master's orders.
The "Master" was in his freshly made bed, cuddling with one of the slave-boy waiters. He was thinking about how this exotic, perhaps depraved, life he was leading began.
Master Johnson's Story
After his wife died, Johnson had begun to live out the homosexual fantasies he secretly had had all his life. He had always dominated other men in the business world, now he could do it in his personal world too. He had begun by joining Wade Jackson's private "male stripper" club, hiring a dancer to entertain him, "privately" whenever the mood struck him.
One night, after a rather drunken poker game, he told four close male friends about his new "interests" and discovered that they had similar tastes. One of them confessed he actually kept a couple of slave-boys, in a condo for his sadistic pleasures. He introduced Johnson to S&M. He also introduced Johnson to Max, an ex-cop who liked to be whipped and abused by other men. The hulking, beefy Max became Johnson's live in slave and butler, as happy controlling other slaves as was being beaten.
During other poker games and locker room discussions at an exclusive athletic club, the group of new friends grew in size and even formed a secret sex and torture organization they called the L.A. Hellfire Club. Johnson's estate became the center of their clandestine activities.
The naked waiters, working the party were owned by various members and were kept in an underground barracks at Johnson's estate. They were brought out for parties like this one and for private sessions with their owners.
But all the "club" members liked to play with fresh meat now and then, so Johnson began arranging with Wade's club and its international affiliates to supply dancers for his parties. He knew that all the dancers, like Mitch, had signed long-term contracts and had been fed aphrodisiacs for so long they had become the male equivalent of nymphomaniacs. They believed that the money they earned by performing at private functions was placed in their bank accounts, to be collected when their contracts expired so they were expected to co-operate fully with their client's desires and they did.
Mr. Johnson fell asleep with his dick up the slave-boy's ass and dreamed about what was going to be expected of Mitch at the Sunday brunch.