Manhandled (23 page)

“More, boy,” Morgan said. “Open wider.”

Tommy’s body went rigid with pain; muscles strained and corded. Sweat poured from his pits as a huge ball was slowly forced
into his anus. Morgan’s hand stroked his back as he continued to push. Tommy had never been opened so far. He tried to focus
on his master’s touch, not on the boulder up his ass. The ball passed its greatest width. His anal lips closed, locking on
a thick handle.

Tommy was exhausted, but Morgan’s touch told him it wasn’t over. He wouldn’t have thought it possible to stay hard with that
mass plugging him, but Morgan made it happen. His right hand played across Tommy’s body as he slid the giant ball dildo out
again. Tommy’s sphincter fluttered, gulping at the emptiness. Morgan teased and tormented him, and suddenly he wanted it,
wanted that intense fullness inside. He opened his legs wider, pushing against the spike. Morgan gave it to him, filling every
inch of him with an ecstatic mix of pain and pleasure. He cried and shook as his cock exploded, spraying long streamers of
cum in every direction. He collapsed against the table, sobbing helplessly. Morgan withdrew the dildo gently. His hand touched
the back of Tommy’s head briefly, then he was gone.

Tommy lay like the dead when the last man came up. His body was beyond response, despite the man’s rough treatment. A beeper
sounded, and Tommy tensed. He knew Morgan was expecting an important call and would have to leave to take it. But there was
no reason to worry. It was almost over.

Tommy’s anus was stretched so far, he couldn’t tell what the man was using. Then he felt several sharp jabs, and he knew.

A large, ungreased, untrimmed fist was trying to gain entrance. Tommy panicked; he knew what fingernails could do to his guts.
He scrambled off the table. A hand grabbed him. Tommy struck wildly, feeling intense satisfaction when his fist connected.

“Catch the bastard!” Men were yelling and grabbing.

Tommy fought blindly, trying to keep his back to the corner. Someone seized his arm, but he wrenched free. The men were unable
to keep a grip on his sweat-slick body. His wild blows seldom landed, but his terror and his long arms kept the men at a distance.

“Tommy!” Morgan bellowed.

The boy froze, dropping his fists and falling to his knees. He felt the vibration of booted steps approaching, and shivered.

“What the hell is this?” Morgan’s voice was low and icy as he tore off the hood. “I leave you alone for a minute, and this
is how you show obedience?” He turned his back on Tommy. “What happened?” he asked the others.

“We tried to hold him,” said a top in a studded leather harness, “but he kept swinging. He’s got a good punch.” Ruefully,
he rubbed his bearded chin. “I thought you had him trained.”

Tommy glanced down at the knuckles he hadn’t noticed he’d split. The panic was fading, but the fear was growing. Morgan hadn’t
been really angry with him for a long time, but Tommy hadn’t forgotten it.

Head bowed, Tommy stared at his master’s boots. Morgan twisted his fingers in Tommy’s hair and jerked his head up. “You’ve
disappointed me, boy,” he said quietly. “I expected better of you.”

Abruptly, he released his grip, planted his boot on Tommy’s shoulder, and shoved. The boy sprawled backward. He lay still,
fighting tears and the urge to whimper. The words hurt more than the rough treatment. He’d let his master down. The man was
Morgan’s friend, maybe even had his consent. It could have just been a test—if so, he’d failed, miserably.

He dragged himself to his knees, but Morgan’s boot knocked him flat again. The heavy tread ground into his skin, crushing
his clamped nipple. Agony shot through his chest. Instinctively, he sought to remove the source of pain. His fingers touched
the polished leather, and reason returned. He raised his arms over his head and parted his legs. Muscles corded in his neck
and arms as he fought the desire to struggle. For a moment, Morgan looked down at the boy splayed at his feet, totally exposed
and unresisting. Blood flowed from the lip Tommy had bitten to keep from screaming. At last, Morgan released the pressure.
Tommy struggled to his knees, facing his master.

“Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”

Tommy hung his head in shame. What could he say? Morgan hated excuses. “Nothing, sir. I’m sorry.”

“You know what comes next, boy.” Morgan’s voice was low and quiet. He didn’t need to shout to make Tommy tremble.

“Yes, sir.” Tommy tried to keep his voice steady. He spread himself across the table, grabbing the legs and opening his thighs
as wide as he could. “Sir, tie me down. Please, sir. I don’t think I can hold still.”

“Yes you can, boy. And you will. For me.”

The tears started again. “Yes, sir,” he whispered.

Roughly, Morgan brushed his knuckles across Tommy’s cheek. He trembled at the unexpected caress. His breath eased out in a
soft sigh. He heard Morgan unbuckle his belt and drag it free. He couldn’t stop his ass from quivering. He tensed for the
first blow.

Morgan’s shadow towered over him. His arm lifted; the belt dangled in a heavy loop from his fist. Tommy shut his eyes. He
didn’t need to watch. He was not going to move. He was not going to scream. He was going to take it. However bad it got, he
was not going to shame his master again.

The swoop of leather cut the air, then fire danced across his ass. Morgan struck swiftly, giving Tommy no chance to adjust
to the pain, beating him harder than he ever had. Tommy bit back his screams, but he couldn’t stop the moans that tore through
his chest. His hands whitened on the table legs as he struggled to stay in place. Heat burned through him. Each strip cut
across a previous one and reawakened the torment. His erect cock scraped across the table with each movement of his tortured
ass. His anus puckered open in frustrated longing.

The blows stopped. Morgan eased his cheeks apart. Long, warm fingers moved across his anus, slowly opening him. His muscles
tried to clamp on the fingers, but they slipped away and left him empty and aching with need. The belt hit the floor, and
he heard Morgan’s boots walk away.

Please, no. Don’t leave me!
Tommy wanted to run after Morgan, to clasp his knees and beg forgiveness.
Maybe he went to get something else,
he suddenly thought.
Make him come back. Please. No matter what he brings with him.

“What the fuck is this?” Morgan shouted.

Tommy jumped, twisting his neck to see behind him.

“Looks like blood,” a man said indifferently.

“What the hell did you try to do to my boy?” Morgan didn’t wait for his answer. “Tommy, get over here.”

Tommy raised his aching body from the table, wincing with pain but trying to hurry. Morgan’s fist clenched the man’s shirt.
“What did he do, boy?”

“He tried to fist me.”

Morgan grabbed the man’s wrist and held it up for everyone to see the ragged, dirty nails.

“So maybe I scratched him a little. What of it? He’s just a goddamned slave. He doesn’t have the right to say no.”

“He’s
my
slave,” Morgan said coldly. “And he
does
have the right. He’s a slave only because he chooses to say yes.” Morgan drove his fist into the man’s gut. “Nobody breaks
my rules.”

He slung the man over the table, securing him with restraints he hadn’t used on Tommy. He jerked the man’s pants down, then
ripped off his shirt.

“You can’t do this,” the man hollered.

“Anyone want to stop me?” Morgan scanned the room.

“The bastard’s got it coming. He could have ripped the kid wide open with those nails,” someone shouted out. One top slid
the bolt on the door. Another shoved a gag in the man’s mouth.

“Your choice, Tommy. He owes you.” Morgan glanced at the flabby ass. “It’s not very appealing, but it’s yours if you want
it.”

Tommy shuddered at the thought of touching that big white quivering butt—even for revenge. He picked up the belt.

“Go ahead,” Morgan said. “He deserves it.”

Tommy shook his head and held out the belt. “You were just getting warmed up, sir. I’d like to see you work.”

Morgan smiled as he took the belt. “My pleasure.”

Over and over, the belt slashed down. The man’s screams were muffled, but audible. The table rocked as he threw his body from
side to side. Morgan never missed. The man was powerless, spread open and shackled securely. Morgan felt no need for restraint.
He was angry. For the first time, he lost control, striking with all his strength. From neck to ankles, he marked the man
with bloody welts. His eyes blazed with rage and lust.

Tommy began to be afraid. It was too much; not even this man deserved so much punishment. Suddenly Tommy did something he
had never done before: He said no. He caught Morgan’s upraised arm. “Morgan, no. Enough.” For a second, Tommy thought Morgan
would strike him. He let go of the arm and gently laid his hand on Morgan’s face. “Please,” he said softly. “Take me home,
sir.”

Morgan blinked, and then his eyes were his own again. He looked at the man he had abused and turned pale. “Let him loose,”
he told the other tops. “Take him to the hospital if he wants.”

“Bastard!” the man whimpered when they removed the gag.

“Press charges if you like. But don’t ever come here again.”

Morgan sat staring at his hands as if he couldn’t believe what they had done. The tops got the man dressed and led him away.

“He’s going to be damned sore, but it’s not as bad as it looks,” said a man in heavy leather. “Don’t worry. He doesn’t need
a doctor, and I don’t think he’ll want to tell anyone. Hell, the guy even had a boner. Maybe he’s really a bottom. You might
have done him a favor,” the man said with a grin.

Morgan nodded his thanks. The tops left while Tommy finished dressing. He knelt at Morgan’s side and laid his head in his
lap, pressing his lips against the soft bulge in his jeans. He took a deep breath; the sharp scent of Morgan’s sweat and crotch
funk filled his nostrils. Morgan dropped a hand to Tommy’s head and gently stroked it.

“I could have really hurt him. A top who loses control is dangerous. What if it had been you?” His hand was faintly shaking.

“No,” Tommy said firmly. He knelt up, reading the worry on Morgan’s face. He caught his hand and kissed it. “You’ve never
lost control with me. Anything you need to do to me, I can take. You know that, sir. Maybe it’s why you can stop.”

“You’re not afraid of me?”

Tommy smiled. “Afraid, yes, but I won’t stop trusting you.” Suddenly shy, he blushed. “You haven’t claimed your prize yet,
sir.”

Morgan’s hand slid down and gently cupped Tommy’s ass. “Boy, I don’t think this ass could take any more tonight.”

“Yes it could, sir, if you wanted it to.”

Morgan smiled down at Tommy’s earnest face. “Later. What I want to know is why you didn’t tell me.”

Tommy shrugged. “I thought maybe it was a test, that he had permission.”

“Never!” Morgan said fiercely. “I don’t want you ripped. I love this ass.” He pulled Tommy into his arms. “And I love the
man it’s attached to.” He bent his head and covered Tommy’s mouth with his.

Tommy forgot the pain and the fear; he forgot everything but Morgan’s lips on his and the feel of his powerful hands touching
him, holding him, taking control.

“Let’s go home, boy.”

“Yes, sir!”

Troy M. Grant

I
wanted Justin so bad I was willing to do anything to get him. There were a lot of hot, eighteen-year-old seniors at my high
school, but there was something about Justin that absolutely drove me out of my mind with lust. Maybe it was his body…. Justin
was a wrestler and had a smooth, firm torso just rippling with muscle. His biceps were the size of softballs. Justin had great
legs, and the tightest little ass I’d ever seen. Maybe it was his face…. Justin’s features were sensual, intense, and masculine.
He could be both arousing and intimidating at the same time. His gray eyes only added to that effect. Maybe it was his hair….A
lot of guys go ape-shit over blond hair, but they wouldn’t if they got a look at Justin. His hair was a light, sandy brown,
a little curly, and it suited him beautifully. Maybe it was his attitude…. Justin was kind of a punk. I don’t know exactly
what it was that made me so crazy over him, but I was on the verge of being obsessed with him. I’d never wanted anything so
much in all my life.

At eighteen, I was still a virgin. That was a situation I intended to change as quickly as possible. Finding another boy who
shared my attraction to males was hard enough, but I’d set my sights on Justin. I knew it was probably a mistake. Hell, it
was probably suicidal, but I always went after what I wanted, and I was desperate to get my hands on Justin’s hot, hard body.

I watched and waited for my chance. I was like a vulture circling, just waiting until I could swoop in. One afternoon, just
after last-period gym class, I got my chance. All the guys were dressing in the locker room and bull-shitting about all the
babes they’d plowed. It was the usual stuff.

“Fuck, I’m so horny I bet I could ram my dick through a brick wall!” said Justin.

“You’re always horny!” shouted someone.

I grabbed an eyeful of Justin’s crotch and sure enough, his dick was tenting his shorts. It was a real big tent too. Along
with everything else he had going for him, Justin was hung. Justin caught me checking him out, so I tried to keep my eyes
off him. It wasn’t easy. I was always stealing glances at him, and Justin was always noticing. I lingered as the guys started
clearing out. Justin started to go too, but I held him back.

“Could you stay a minute, Justin? There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

“Um, sure.”

Justin had a questioning look on his face, probably because I didn’t talk to him all that much. We weren’t exactly friends.
Maybe he detected the unevenness of my voice; I was so nervous my stomach was tying itself in knots. Justin didn’t know it,
but I was about to make him an offer that I was sure he’d never had from another guy before. I couldn’t believe I was really
going to do it. In fact, I was almost sure I’d chicken out. I had to give it a try, though—I was in agony. At last, all the
others cleared out and we were alone. I’d never been so anxious or frightened in all my life. I was silent for several long
moments.