X-Andrew-WideReply: netnews.alt.sex.stories,netnews.alt.sex.motss X-Andrew-Authenticated-as: 0;andrew.cmu.edu;Network-Mail Received: via nntppoll with nntp; Sat, 20 Mar 1993 14:41:03 -0500 (EST) Path: andrew.cmu.edu!bb3.andrew.cmu.edu!crabapple.srv.cs.cmu.edu!cantaloupe.srv.cs.cmu.edu!das-news.harvard.edu!husc-news.harvard.edu!hsdndev!newsfeed.rice.edu!cs.utexas.edu!uunet!nowhere!nobody Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.motss Message-ID: 1993Mar18.014210.2530@nowhere.org Reply-To: an1662@anon.penet.fi Sender: nobody@nowhere.org Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Organization: Nobody's Home Nntp-Posting-Host: nowhere.org Lines: 396 Xref: bb3.andrew.cmu.edu alt.sex.stories:2874 alt.sex.motss:926
MASTER OF THE HAND, By WRITER MAN 2537
I am the "Master of the Hand" to my subjects. I have total control over them, their desires, their needs. I earn my title honestly. I need no whips or chains, and don't need to seek out those timid creatures that want to obey. Given my own knowledge of the human nervous system, my own trained hands, and my own techniques, I can control any of you I wish, straight or gay, macho or effeminate queen.
You don't believe me? But of course you don't. The doctors I used to work with refused to believe it, even when I used my technique to turn one of them into a grovelling slave of mine. He stills comes over when I call him. But they still don't believe me, or him.
I will give you part of my secret; the human body has nerves all through it, and they come closer to the surface some places than others. My breakthrough was learning how to trigger those impulses in any way I chose. It was simple once I discovered it. I can touch a part of your forearm, and you will jerk away as though I had touched you with a red-hot poker instead of my index finger. I can touch a nearby portion, and you will taste lemon juice, no sugar, sour on your tongue. It is that simple.
I will now tell you that there are six areas (twelve actually, six on each side of your body but as they are paired, I count them as only six) where the slightest appropriate touch will cause you to experience a strong sexual desire. Many mammals such as dogs know this, for on them one area is on the neck, by biting the neck of the female, they stimulate this area while they mate. But I digress.
A knock came at my apartment door one day as I was working on one of my slaves, a sailor who visited me every time he was in port, per my orders. Ordering him to lie still, I left him where he was, sprawled across my bed in a pleasant agony, pulled on my pants and answered the doorbell.
Usually I am not attracted to those very young; I prefer my men to be mature, at least in their mid-twenties. But as I saw this young man-child standing there, I knew that he would make a pleasant addition to my stable.
Tousled chesnut hair in those half-curls that are the plague of many mixed-ancestry Causasian men here in America, which would neither curl neatly or lay down when combed. A face like a fighter's, not puffy and beaten, but stubborn and stern-looking, or it would be in twenty more years. Now, it was merely masculine on him. He wore a white T-shirt with some organization emblazoned on his ample chest with jutting pecs, and white shorts, like pants with the legs cut off, and the remainder of the legs cuffed and hemmed. Trousers whose legs ended at the groin. White socks and white sneakers finished his clothing. White, all white on his pale skin adorned with an occasional freckle. It was an effective combination, those tight trousers evincing the suggestion of a huge male organ (was he even wearing underwear? No, but a jock-strap, barely visible in those transparent clothes).
"Yes?" I finally remembered to say to him.
"I represent the..." Some organization or other, I forget. He was selling door-to-door to raise money for some trip or other. Lightbulbs were his product.
I decided while listening to his spiel that this young man would be a nice addition to my collection. "Come in and sit down, and tell me more." I urged him.
He sat on my white couch, white on white. Only his blue eyes and brown hair for color.
"How old are you?" I asked. It helps to be certain one isn't breaking the law."
"I turned eighteen last month." He assured me to my relief. My slaves never talk, on pain of being turned out of my stable, but it helps to be sure one is not a lawbreaker.
"Well, then..." I scooted closer, ostensibly to look at his flyer lying across his lap. "How much are these?" I pointed to one of the products."
He told me about it, but I wasn't paying attention. I used my closeness to reach over and touch, through his shirt, one of the points I mentioned earlier. I pressed a little harder, to be sure of hitting the point through the cloth.
He gasped, moaned, arched his body. I had hit it right. His shorts and jockstrap bulged with the erection these boys get so easily at that age. Two seconds, and he had a full erection, hard as a stone in his confining outfit.
"Do you like that?" I said as I hit the point again.
"Uh, uh, yes. Yes!" he moaned. I had chosen the point carefully; this point gives only pleasure and is located near the armpit.... But I shall not tell you the exact location. Knowledge is dangerous in the wrong hands.
Time now for me to begin his training. "Then kiss me to show how much you like it." I ordered him.
His trembling lips sought out mine, and he kissed me, clumsy in his eagerness. I rested a hand on his erect bulge (NOT one of the points despite the way many people dive for it, but merely an erotic gesture of mine), and he hunched against my hand, his flyer falling to the floor as an unheeded rustle of paper.
I felt his tongue slide into my lips, and I pulled away. "I did not say you could do that." I said as I reached for Point #5 on his leg, one that causes pain with the pleasure.
I pinched hard, and he gasped. "I'm sorry." he said, gulped hard and continued. "Can we go into your bedroom?"
I laughed easily, lounged backwards, pointed at my crotch still in its pants. My cock made a visible line on them. "You have to taste that first." I said.
"Huh?"
God, the young are so dumb! "Gnaw at it through the pants. Get it good and hard for me."
"Oh." he said, and went down, nibbled at it with his teeth, both afraid of hurting me and of what he was doing.
"Don't you like it?" I asked him sternly.
"Uh, yeah, but I never... That is, I usually do this with girls. I ain't never...."
"Sucked a cock before?"
"No." He gulped. "Please don't send me away."
"Then it's time for your first lesson, I said to his visible relief. "Take it out and work on it."
He was literally panting with his eagerness as he first stripped quickly, leaving only his shoes and socks on, then fought with the zipper, worked it down, fished with a hand lightly covered with white hairs to free my cock from the trouser leg. He brought it out into the light, and hesitated, looked at me.
"Do it." I ordered him, and hit Point #5 again to remind him of my power.
He gulped it down with a dry mouth. "Get your mouth wet with spit and try that again." He stopped, moistened his mouth while his eyes were locked with mine, and he tried again, his spit dribbling onto the shaft as he plunged down onto it. He worked my pants down until they were lying on my feet, and I kicked them off quickly, to lie naked underneath this ministering teenage slave.
"That's better." I encouraged the novice. "Really work that foreskin back and forth. Use just your lips and really work it, kid."
He followed my advice and I lay there, enjoying my blowjob from this virgin to male-male sex.
A slight sound alerted me. I looked up to see the sailor standing in the doorway, timid in his nudity as he saw me with another man.
"Master, forgive me." he said. "I was wondering what was keeping you."
The kid's head jerked off my cock as he heard the strange voice. I grabbed his head (in the process, my middle finger finding Point #1 there and hitting it, just to be sure) and said, "Get back to work, kid."
He moaned as I massaged his scalp (the way to work #1) and went back to work. The sailor slave stood there, looking at his master being sucked by a young kid. He groaned, and his cock stood up rigid.
"Master, please, may I join you?" he finally got out.
"Okay, get over here and show this kid how it's done."
I let the two of them lap at my cock for a time. The kid was really getting off on the sight of the sailor man sucking down my cock, and sent his hand over to find the sailor's cock and jerk it for him. The sailor reciprocated after a glance to be sure I would allow it. He knew my tempers better.
The kid knelt down to get on the floor and he and the sailor were beating each other under my legs as they together slurped on my cock. He wasn't experienced, but he was eager and that helps a lot.
I straightened up slightly and knocked their hands away, took the two cocks in my hands. There are thirty-six ways to stimulate a man's penis with your hand. I used #21, the fast flog, my hands a blur on their hard rods.
The kid gasped, his mouth full of my cock, and he shot his load, splattering my hairy legs and the hairy sailor near to him, a huge load that seemed to never want to stop.
The sailor groaned as he felt the come splash on him, and met it with his copious flow. I had spent the last hour before the kid arrived, teasing this man, bringing him close to orgasm again and again, only to stop and bring him back down again. He had been horny as hell when the knock came at the door, and I had ordered him not to touch it until I had returned. So, though older, his load was easily the match for the kid's, and splattered the adolescent hunk as much as he had been splattered, decorating the taut stomach with his seed.
The kid caught his breath, returned to sucking my cock. He was as hot as ever, and I used my hands to hit two of his points together, and that was enough to send him writhing as he slurped furiously.
And that did it for me. I roared, exploded, sent waves of my come into that waiting, young throat, filling him full. The kid gagged on the salty taste, but took it all, swallowing it eagerly.
I rubbed some of the kid's come I had scooped off the sailor into the kid's hair, just to mark him well. His hair was matted with sweat, and the come blended right in. He looked silly at this, giggled.
My intercom rang. "Yes?"
"Is Kevin up there?"
"Oh, God, my mom." the kid agonized. "I'm right here." he shouted.
"Aren't you done yet? Come on, we have to go."
"Okay, mom, I'll be right down." The kid looked at me, uncertain.
"Go ahead, kid." I told him, grabbing the sailor's flaccid cock impudently. "I'll manage here. Just come back tomorrow without her."
"Okay, sir, I will." the kid grinned. "Same time?"
"Yeah. I'll be waiting for you." I laughed as, dressed, he left hurriedly. I had plans for that kid. But that was later. I turned to my sailor, asked, "Ready to go again?"
The kid showed up right on time, his shorts (blue this time) tenting out in front of him. I knew with a smile when I opened the door for him, that he was ready for the second part of his training.
"Am I too early?" he asked, nervous as hell. He'd had time to think, but not so much that he changed his mind. Of course, they never do. I can call one a month or a year later, and they arrive on time as always. My power of touch is a powerful weapon. "I told mom I was staying the night with a friend." He warned me.
"No, you're right on time." I smiled and told him. "And I will be a good friend to your body. Take off your clothes and we'll get started. I was only wearing a white bathrobe, holding it together with one arm, and I let go, let it drape open. He gulped, looked at my flaccid cock, his mouth drooling already.
He tugged off his T-shirt (the same or a close relative of the one the night before) and I got a real good look at his chest this time. Pert little nipples made small circles on his pecs. His stomach was taut, not rippled with muscle, but a flat depression that centered on his tuckered navel. The bare beginnings of chest hair dotted between his breasts, still a transparent white, but beginning to spread and darken. I stroked lightly up between his breasts, letting the hair tickle my palm, and tickle his chest at the same time.
He untied the string and let his shorts fall. His cock was rigid, rock-hard, so easy to accomplish at his age. He groaned as my hands continued to brush his chest, and he made a movement as if to fall to his knees and suck on my cock again.
"Stop." I ordered him, and he aborted the movement, straightened up, looked at me curiously.
"Do you know who I am?" I asked. It was my beginning ritual.
"No, sir." he said.
"I am the Master of the Hand. You may call me that, for it is a title I well deserve, and I shall show you why I have that title this night." I said. I let the bathrobe fall from my body and said, "This way to the bedroom."
He entered, gasped when he saw the set-up. I had a metal rod that stretched from wall to wall. I had the sailor, still here in my bedroom, attached to the rod by handcuffs that held both his hands and were looped over the rod. The sailor had a huge erection. I had been seeing to that; it is my power. This sailor would keep this erection for as long as I chose, until I released him. And so would the teenaged boy I was adding to my collection of studs.
I pulled a second pair of handcuffs from the dresser. "Give me your hand." I commanded.
"I don't know about this." the boy began unsteadily.
I was foolish, forgetting to touch again his points of passion. I dropped the cuffs to the floor, reached for him.
The teenaged stud gasped when I touched, with both hands, the pair of points on his chest. Two-handed, I stroked them gently and he gasped, arced again with his passion, his cock trying to reach up and take me. I had my own plans for that cock, though. I worked through his points, each time taking the pair of them, touching all six pairs, until he was gasping and nearly sobbing, trying to catch his breath that his passion would not let him do.
"God." he breathed. "How do you do this to me?"
"I am Master of the Hand." I intoned. "You will obey me, and I will give you pleasure like you've never had. You will now give me your hands, so that I may cuff you to the rod."
This time he didn't object, gave me one wrist, which I fastened. I'm no sadist, but the helplessness of fastening a man like this stimulates his passion. I fastened them loosely; he could have pulled loose if he wanted. Throwing the other cuff over the rod, I fastened the other.
"Now you will experience the pleasures I have in store for you."
I took his hard cock in one hand, reached for the sailor's with the other. The sailor had had time to recover from his last orgasm, and was ready for more, I judged, hefting the cock, testing its rigidity. He could handle the passion I would send to him, or faint from it.
There are thirty-six ways to handle another man's cock, and I went through them one by one. First I used a gentle stroke, almost pedestrian, that anyone could do.
Then I switched, pushing down the foreskin so it would be out of the way, my index finger and thumb making a circle that barely touched the adolescent cock, rubbing back and forth over the glans, stimulating half of the pair of skin that gives a man pleasure. Too much of this will make a cock sore, but a little stimulates him incredibly. Try it and see, but perhaps you, being untrained as am I, should use a little lube on your thumb and finger before you begin.
I will not reveal all of my talents here, as I have warned you before. But I made my moves one at a time, stimulating my two studs, bringing them to the brink, then switching to a less passionate stroke that brought them down once again. I varied this with intimate touches on their helpless bodies, strokes, brushes, touches, caresses, touching those places other men ignore, unaware of the body's ability to give pleasure so many ways. A caress of the ear lobe with the lightest touch of one finger; a stroking of the skin under the armpits, touching the tops of the feet.
"God, I never knew my body could do this." the kid breathed.
I gave him the touch on the forearm I've told before, the touch of hot-iron. He yelled with fear.
"I am the giver of pleasure and pain." I told him. "I prefer pleasure, but my slaves must obey me." I touched him again, and he screamed.
"God, don't do that, man! Please!" he cringed before my power. "You're not human! You can't be!"
"I am more than human." I told him. "I am the Master of the Hand." And I returned to the touches of pleasure. His cock had drooped when I touched his forearm, it sprang to attention again. I used touch #21 again, one of the best for a novice. The speedy flogging of his cock caused him to yell again, this time in pleasure, begging me to do it harder, harder!
My sailor man was getting too close, I knew. Time for me to add the rest of it. "Turn around." I ordered him.
"What for?" the sailor begged me, knowing it was a foolish question.
I touched the spot on his leg that pricks like a needle. "Obey me, slave!"
"Yes, sir!" the sailor was obedient again, and turned around to let the kid see his hairy, bubble-shaped ass. I pulled the kid along the rod by his cock, aiming for that brown tuckerhole. The kid cooperated with me, and I picked up speed, until the kid's cock met the sailor's ass with a hard ram.
I aimed perfectly, of course. Without lube, with the force of the speed we had maintained, the kid's cock slid up the sailor's ass, buried to the hilt the first stab.
The sailor yelled, a combination of pleasure and pain. "Agh! God, kid, give it to me!" he yelled. And the sailor came right then, shooting his come in audible splats against the wall, without even touching his cock.
The kid tried to oblige the sailor, hunching at him, but I pulled him out again, his cock sticky with blood. I wiped it off with a towel I kept for those purposes. "Now you turn around, kid." I said, touching him at Point #2 to emphasize my intent.
"No, please, Master." the kid begged like I knew he would. "Please don't send that guy's cock up my ass. I couldn't take it."
I had no intention of doing that to him, but a slave must be trained to obey, not argue. "Turn around, kid." I commanded, touching Point #2 again, to make it pleasant for him.
He turned around, shivering, expecting the sailor's cock to come flying at him the way he had. But I was done with the sailor, who was nearly passed out, hanging listlessly. The sailor's leave was almost over, he would leave soon to return to his base. And I had the kid to teach to obey me.
I licked at my finger, lubing it, worked it gently into the kid's butt. He moaned, and I quickly touched Point #4 to help him take the finger. His butt muscles worked and my finger slid in all the way.
I didn't try for more that time, just left my finger in his ass while my other hand worked the kid's cock, going for the passionate strokes now, always varying, but always harder and harder, more and more sensations piling up on the kid.
I looked at the clock. I had been working this kid's cock for a half hour. Long enough for the first time. I switched once again to Stroke #21, releasing my finger and turning the kid toward me, kneeling down in front of him so his cock was aimed at my face.
"Shot that come on my face, kid!" I commanded him and he closed his eyes, his angelic face screwed up, and he humped at me, his cock exploding in my hand, powerful bursts of semen like only a teenaged boy can give it to you, an abundant flood of juvenile come that coated me in a solid coat, covering my face like I knew it would.
The kid finished shooting his load what seemed like an hour later, relaxed, sagging against his bonds while his cock drooped in my hand. I gave it Stroke #8, which is designed to ressurrect cocks that have just been through orgasm, and his youthful body responded immediately, rock hard despite the coat of come still clinging to the opening it had come from.
I leaned over, licked at his cockhead, cleaning it carefully, something I usually never did. I took it into my mouth briefly, a high honor coming from me, not sucking, but just tasting the youthful cock.
I stood up, began again my ministrations to his young cock, again giving him pleasure. I thrust my face against his, letting him feel the sticky wax of his come against my five o-clock stubble. "Lick it off my face!" I ordered.
He lapped at it like a good, obedient slave, now fully ready to take orders as I gave them.
But I wouldn't rest this night, not with a teenaged cock in my hand, and a teenaged boy strapped to my rod. I would stay awake the entire night, putting the finishing touches on his training, piling orgasm upon orgasm on him until he lost count of them, lost track of time and his senses, his whole world revolving around me and my hand.
For I am Master of the Hand, and this is my power.
I have released many of my former slaves, straight men who have been married, a forbidden thing to remain in my stable. Therefore, I have several openings available to the right stud.
Are you interested, little man?
THE END