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Even The First - PART THIRTY
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Even The First - PART THIRTY
Every moment of your life should be filled with happiness and love ... but not in my life. In my life, everything was sore. Crouching on my heels, even breathing stretched my skin and hurt, as did the tightness where my back arched and my legs folded, and where my chest rubbed against the backs of my thighs. Waiting, listening, feeling the pain like a constant heat pulsing throughout my body, I was conscious of one other thing: I was alone.
I know what you're thinking. You're wondering, Why? You must be wondering, Why am I still here? Why am I waiting? Why am I putting up with all this?
I can't answer that question, except to say, Where was I supposed to go?
Waiting in the basement, my only home, I listened to the creepy silence, waiting for any kind of noise. Anything. I listened to the silence; the silence didn't stop.
Then, there was another loud bang, from upstairs. It was the front door opening and closing, and I heard Paul's voice, "Right. Get up here. Now."
I rose and chased up the stairs; my moment of peace was over. Paul was waiting for me in the hall. He was holding my clothes, threw them onto the floor in front of me and pointed to my shoes.
"Right. Sean's gone."
He had left all his chains, collar and everything. They were in a neat pile by the door. Somehow he'd found the keys, removed the lot, found his clothes, found his shoes and run off. It wouldn't have been difficult, given that Paul had only just started training him. He was just a cub; his restraints were largely symbolic. Still, he must have been planning it. He must have been determined to get away.
Paul told me to dress and chase after him.
I found Sean quite quickly, sheltering in the park nearby, seated on a bench that was concealed within a wall of vegetation, wearing just a tshirt, a grey hood, a pair of tight white shorts, and trainers - that must have been all he'd arrived in. He looked up calmly when I approached, smiling like it was nothing.
"Hey."
His hands were in his hoodie pockets. His legs were straight out, spread at an angle like he had been running and was too tired to bend his knees.
"Hi," I said.
He stared at me for a moment and I stared at him. Then he looked down at the gravel path, at the wide space between his feet.
We were silent for a bit. He was looking at his shoe, apparently, looking at one foot rocking on its heel.
"What are you going to do?" he asked.
"What are YOU going to do?" I replied, "Paul wants you."
"I'm not going back."
"Fine. What do you want me to tell him then?"
"Tell him I'm not coming back. Obviously."
"Not coming back like now, or not coming back like never?"
"Just tell him, I'm not coming back. 'K?"
"Do you know what'll happen?" I asked.
"What do you mean, what'll happen?"
"I'll be punished. I'll get punished cs you won't get punished. Because you won't go back to be punished, I'll go back and I'll get punished," I said, matter of factly.
"Can't help that," said Sean. "I mean ... I'm sorry if that happens. You don't deserve it. But I'm not going back. And that's final."
"OK."
"I mean ... I ... I like you. I like you a lot. And. I. I liked it when you turned up and suddenly I could see how it works, if you're a real slave like that, obedient and all that."
He was smiling. "You know Paul taught me what an enema is? When did you find out what an enema is?"
"Oh ... I've always known."
"What does that mean?"
"Just that I had to be clean for men who wanted to fuck me, to fuck me."
"So who taught you?"
"I ... I worked it out, I guess."
Sean smiled. "You worked it out. Guess you did. You see, I mean ... for you, it's a real thing, it's your whole life. I mean. Kinda ... that's what's amazing. I mean, you don't even remember your first enema? What the fuck? You really do not have anything else, do you? But, is that how it's supposed to be?"
"What do you mean?"
"Like, this is supposed to be a turn on. But that's all it is! It's a fantasy - like Pigs in Space!" - I laughed; I'd never heard it put like that - "It's not a way of life!"
"Well, if you're not into it then you're not into it," I said, genially.
"Oh I'm into it, believe me," said Sean seriously. "I'm into it. I just don't want it taking over, y'know. It's like ... y'know how when you look up and there's all this ambient light so you don't see all the stars, but if you look up and there's no ambient light then you see lots of stars?"
"Errr, what?"
"I just don't think you see lots of stars," he said.
"Or you see too much ambient light," I said, meaninglessly. But I knew what he was getting at. There was probably more to life ... for other people.
I sat down next to him on the bench. I didn't touch him. I looked at him. I looked at his hair moving and his chest, beneath his white tshirt, rising and falling slowly. Calmly. Like he was sleeping.
He turned his head at last and smiled at me.
"You're cute," he said.
"You're cute yourself," I said.
"Yeah but you're really cute. You're really good looking. You're a movie star!"
"You're a movie star," I said, and we laughed.
The beautiful deserve least of any of us to suffer, and yet their suffering makes them correspondingly more adorable; no one cares what they feel. We were both beautiful and we were both adorable, but Sean was determined not to suffer - at least not in any real way.
I had never made that choice.
Sean lifted his leg - the one nearest to me - placing his heel on the edge of the bench so he was resting his arms on his knee.
"I liked it when you were rimming me," he said. "That was good. You know: When you licked my arse."
"I know what rimming is."
"You certainly do!"
"I liked doing it."
"Did you? Did you like rimming me?"
"Fuck yeah ... ... You have a beautiful, beautiful arse," I said foolishly, and stalled. Sean adjusted his position on the bench. He had big shoulders, like mine. His hair fell forward over his eyes and he swept it back before it fell forward again and he left it.
"Why did you run off?" I said. "Paul sent me to fetch you."
Sean exhaled, holding his leg in both arms and resting his chin on his knee. "I know. I know. I, I just ... It's just that ... that is the last time I do that. I said to myself, 'That is the last time I do that' ... but I mean, to be treated like that - for years! I saw you and I said to myself, 'If you let Paul possess you like that, you'll be in his prison for the rest of your life.' And ... I'm not quite ready, y'know. I'm not going back. I know Paul sent you to get me but I'm not going back."
"Quite the warrior! You don't have to go back. No one can force you. No one would blame you."
"You're a warrior too! What about you? What'll you do?" - he stared at me for a moment - "Oh, man, You're not going back are you? Are you kidding? After what they did? Look at yourself. The blood's still soaking through your fucking clothes! 'KFAG'! How'd you let them do that to you? They fucking ... Are you a complete moron?"
"What am I supposed to do? ... Paul's expecting me."
"So fucking what?"
"I've got no one."
"No friends?"
"I lost contact. All but one."
"Who's that?"
"Oh ... just a man."
"So this man, why don't you go to him?"
I thought of Vince: He wasn't ready to adopt me.
"I don't think he'd ... put me up."
"Ask him. He might."
"Truth is, I hardly know him. I just met him and ... we hit it off, but ..."
"For fucks sake, do you honestly not know anyone who hasn't fucked you?"
"Apart from you, it's like I said, I lost contact with everyone. But it's not like I can move in with him."
"You should ask. Stay, at least til you can get set up on your own."
I looked at him. He was still so young. You know nothing when you're in your twenties. You think everything's possible. You think anything can be worked out.
"You just don't get it, Sean. It's not as simple as that."
"You just need to try. Something's sure to come out of it if you ask. You just need to try."
"I'm not like that," I said at last, "SEE? I'M NOT LIKE THAT!!"
Sean looked at me in surprise.
"Ok dude. No need to get upset."
"Look, I'm sorry but you just don't understand what I'm like. I need ..."
"You really are a slave aren't you? You totally have a slave mentality."
He lowered his leg and I noticed his shorts bulging.
"Who's not a slave?" I said.
"Oooh, very philosophical. Well I'll answer that one quite simply: I am not a slave. Not totally. I'm a pretty-boy sub, but I know my own mind and I'm not going to be anyone's property. Never. You can tell that to Paul when you see him."
He watched me for a moment, then he said, "That must feel very odd, to feel so dependent on another person, especially when you know you aren't really dependent upon them at all, not in reality."
I didn't reply.
We were silent for a bit.
He put a hand on to my shoulder, electrically. His hand touched the back of my neck, so that I felt it when he shivered.
"So you aren't going to rim me again? or are you?"
"If you want me to."
"Fuck yeah. Might as well!" he grinned. He stood up, looked about in case of people, turned his back on me and pulled down his shorts. Suddenly all I could see was this fantastic white arse! He grabbed his creamy white buttocks and pulled them apart to show me his rosehole.
"Go on then!"
Immediately he crouched down so that his face was hidden, his clothes rode up exposing his muscular back, glossy, white and hard. His shorts were round his ankles. Practically all I could see was his backside offering itself up to me. I crouched on the ground between his legs and thrust my tongue up into his crack. It was mustier than before. Sweatier. Smellier. Delicious, and now, given that we were alone and I could forget everything else, it was like eating a meal in a restaurant where you have the whole restaurant to yourself - and you're rimming one of the waiters!
"Man that's good," Sean said, his voice emerging from outside the great white arsehole into which I had submerged my face. "Is that good? Dougieboy? Are you enjoying rimming me out?"
I took my tongue out of his hole long enough to mumble a quick 'ye', before plunging it back in. He was wriggling his backside and encouraging me with little moans that got increasingly desperate as they got more frequent. I placed my hands on the twin halves of his backside, smooth to my palms, and then I touched his bollocks, hanging this time in their long silky purse, silky beneath my fingertips, and his dick which was hard and soft-skinned and pointing sharply - he grabbed it with his fist and started wanking.
"Ye ... Doug ..."
I don't know how long I was licking him. Once I let my mouth trail a drip of juice down his hot red perineum, the hugely bulging root of his penis where it disappeared into his body, and I saw his face. He was looking at me with his 'about to cum' expression, staring hard at me and at my own hard dick.
"Are you going to fuck me?" he whispered. "You can fuck me if you want. Go on. Fuck me. I'm hot. Fuck me."
"I want to. I can't though."
"Why not? I want you to. Go on. I want your cock."
"I don't ..."
"What's the matter? Don't you want it?"
"Yes but I ..."
"Don't you want to fuck me?"
"Yes ..."
"So? Look, relax - just find your inner top!"
He smiled, wanking himself.
"I ... I don't think I've got an inner top!" I said.
We laughed.
"He hasn't got an inner top! That's dope! Ok. Rim me some more and I'll cum. You cum too."
I did as he said and felt his orgasm on my mouth as it spasmed through him, opening and closing his sphincter, letting my tongue penetrate him unbelievably deeply. But I didn't cum.
He groaned and caught his sperm on his other palm, pushing back onto my face, almost suffocating me.
When he'd finished, he turned and rubbed his cum into my eyes, and with my eyes shut, he kissed me. He could taste his taste in my mouth and I could taste his taste in his.
That was the best bit.
He said, "I'm not letting you," when I asked if he wanted me to suck the last of his cum from his dick.
That was the best bit.
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END OF Even The First - PART THIRTY