Gay Erotic Stories

“Say...isn’t that Bennett’s boy? Sam Bennet, the Senator from Maryland? What’s he doing here?” Two men stood together in the darkened room, their eyes fixed on the screen mounted before them. “That’s the trouble with you boys. So full of questions, Jack...” I breathed and raised my glass, sipping again at the pale liquid, my favorite wine from our country as we watched the men shove the struggling young officer into the room. I glanced again at the agent beside me; so close I felt the heat rising from his firm body. “Ummm, a beauty, isn’t he? What’s up with this, Hassan?”

When I entered my office a little while later, my men already had him seated in the chair facing my desk, his huge upper arms straining the short sleeves of his khaki shirt, wrists cuffed behind the chair. A combination of anger and belligerence colored his tan, handsome face. There was a sheen of sweat shining on his skin and beginning to darken his shirt under his arms and between the tightened globes of his chest. His black uniform pants stretched over his thighs as he struggled. I had to admit I liked the new American Navy uniforms; they complimented a splendidly built man’s body nicely. The mans blue eyes captured me and followed me to my chair. His mouth tightened and he tugged at the cuffs, grunting, those huge arms flexing. “Why the fuck am I handcuffed?” he shouted. “It appears...” I shuffled through some papers, “Lieutenant, you have entered my Country illegally. You are being detained for your own protection just until we can get matters cleared up. Hmm...I don’t see area clearances or order copies here.” I let my gaze roam down the front of him to the tight triangular pouch pressed up between his thighs. “I told your men my briefcase was lost or ...stolen...something. The papers were all in it. I’m an officer in the United States Navy. Let me the fuck out of here,” he demanded, jostling the chair in its place. He didn’t need to be restrained, but doing it was definitely to my advantage. It stressed his powerful body for my inspection and gave me a heightened sense of power and control over such a man. “You see. We have nothing here that says you belong in my country. And, Aziz found nothing in your apartment. You really should calm down.” I stood and went around to the front of my desk, settling myself on the corner near him. “You searched my fucking apartment? You’ve got no right... I wanna talk to the Embassy. You don’t have any fuckin’ business...” He threw his massive body, violently pulling at his bonds. “We know about you and the CIA. We’re not stupid, Evans, if that is your name... Now, just tell me about the Area Clearance and your orders. What do you do for the Embassy?” I feigned great patience. “You’re fuckin’ crazy. Of course it’s my name. I’m a Lieutenant in the fuckin’ Navy...on Embassy duty. That’s all,” he growled. “Good. Then where are your papers?” Aziz had done a good job making all this beautiful man’s information disappear. The old cleaning woman stealing his briefcase was pure genius. “I told you....my fuckin’ briefcase was stolen,” he spat. “No, you said lost. Now, which is it, lost or stolen? And, we take a dim view on profanity in our land. I am going to ask you to please mind your language. Come on now, just tell me about the CIA.” “I wanna talk to my Consulate. Get me the fuckin’ Embassy,” he seethed through his teeth at me. “I don’t think that will be necessary as long as you tell me what I asked you. And, I told you, Lieutenant. Watch. Your. Mouth.” Not raising my voice, I leaned forward and backhanded him so hard his head jolted to the side. He looked startled for a moment, narrowing his eyes, a drop of blood appearing at the corner of his mouth. He licked at it. “You sonofabitch !! Let me loose you fucking bastard and I’ll kill you. Fuckin’ bastard.” Saliva and blood sprayed from his mouth and onto my trousers. His eyes were wide, seething with anger. “Ugh,” he garbled after I struck him again. “You prick!” he roared. Aziz approached him silently from behind as I watched. For a moment Evans sniffed the air, nearly recognizing the smell before Aziz grabbed him and covered his mouth and nose with the chloroformed towel. He struggled. Muffled cussing and then he was quiet, his head fallen forward on his chest. “Take him downstairs. I think he needs the night alone to consider his future,” I said. “And, you had better take his uniform. We wouldn’t anything to happen to it, would we, Aziz? The CIA doesn’t provide uniforms to their men, anyway.”

He was either sleeping or passed out when I entered and turned on the light. My men had fitted him with heavy leather wrist cuffs and suspended him from two cables on a winch in the ceiling of the little room. His feet were bare and his ankles cuffed to hooks in the floor, holding him taut. The air was dank and full off his smell as well as the scent of other men I’d been able to entertain here. He was still wearing his underwear; a white wife beater with deep sweat rings under each arm and white briefs that hugged his hips and barely concealed the large bundle at the front between his heavy thighs. The shaft and head of his cut cock swept to the side under the fabric with the sac of his balls clearly outlined against the pouch. I denied the urge to pull them down, kneel before him and worship his sex. The long muscles of his big arms coiled around each elbow and pulled tight in the pits of his arms, carving deep hollows on either side of the great slabs that formed his chest. Exposed in the gap between the bottom of the shirt and the top of his briefs was a broad band of tanned flesh, the oval of his dusky navel and a trail of dark hair streaming down the center of his belly. I touched it, letting the tips of my fingers feel the wet hairs along the line under his shirt. “Unh,” he moaned as his eyes opened. I pulled my fingers away as he roused and focused on me. “What the fuck do you want from me?” he sighed and pulled again at the cuffs holding his arms outstretched, wincing at the refreshed pain in his arms and across his shoulders. The muscles in his arms and chest coiled and recoiled while he struggled. Aziz came in behind me, bare to the waist, carrying a cat-of-forty-tails; his weapon of choice for beginning an interrogation It spanked threateningly against his legs as he played it back and forth. “I’m glad you were able to awaken, Evans. Aziz tends to be heavy handed with that chemical. He’s killed several men...in this room. I only want the answer to my question from last night.” I pulled a wooden chair from against the wall and sat backward on it a few feet from him, my arms crossed on the top of the back. “I don’t know anything. Really, I don’t.” He moaned. “I’m only in Supply.” “Now, we’re getting somewhere, son. Supplying what to whom, Evans? Information to the CIA, the Firm, isn’t it?” “Nooo....Oh, God. I don’t know anything about the CIA. Nothing, God dammit.” He cried out, trying to get another breath into his tortured lungs. “Aziz.” “No. Oh shit, no!” he begged, then relieved only to see the henchman hand me a scissors. I stood and approached him. He tried to twist away, but not before I got a hold of his shirt, edging him toward me. “I’ll tell you what I think,” I spoke toward his face, so close I could feel his terror at what he knew was coming. “I think you are here without orders on a special mission. That’s why you have no Area Clearance. No orders.” He exhaled hard as I made a slice in the top of the shirt, just at his throat. His pulse throbbed against the sweat-shiny flesh below my fingers. I ripped it open, right down the center. His abdomen convulsed in the wide gap. “Oh God,” he sighed, “I told you. I lost my case...I mean it was stolen,” he corrected, noting the suspicion in my eyes. “Please...please...Oh, God, believe me.” “It’s hard to believe you when you keep lying to me about the briefcase,” I said. Evans wobbled before me, trying to steady himself on the tips of his toes, Aziz had him pulled that high. “Please. Don’t....” I sliced through one strap on his shoulders and then the other. The shirt fell in pieces from his body. The man was magnificent. Hundreds of hours of work had built his body to an image of male perfection. He was thick and strong, pulled out before us. Huge shoulders sweeping into his undulating chest and the rolling, deep oval of his belly. His ribs were clearly visible, flexing with each gasping breath, under his sodden flesh. The patches of hair under his arms, the fan across his chest and belly were the same rich, golden brown color as the hair of his head. The sheen of sweat on him glistened in the fluorescent light. “Oh, God. Please,” he gasped. “Aziz.” He pulled back the cat. Swoosh. Smack. Cured leather against bare wet skin. The strike landed high on his back, the flesh immediately turning white, then pink. “Argh, SHIT!!” Evans cried, his body flexing forward. The shorter arab took aim, this time at his bared chest. SMACK. The ends of the tails wrapped, leaving finger marks on his side and across his pouting nipple. “AHH..HAHA,” he shrieked. I counted thirty strokes before the slight, vicious man rested, each blow drawing a painful howl from his victim. He switched, back to front, high and low until Evans hung loose from his wrists panting. “Please...I can’t....No more...Please.” I pulled out my handkerchief, brushing away sweat about to drip into his eyes, I said quietly, “Tell me something and he’ll stop..” “I don’t have anything to tell,” he whimpered. “No ,no, NO.” He twisted hard as I brought the scissors forward, but there was nowhere to go. I sliced through one side of his sweat-soaked briefs, leaving him exposed and humiliated even before I cut up the other side and swept the sodden material away from between his quivering legs. His proud cock stretched up before him, darker than his body, long, arcing, nearly straight, above the sac of his twin balls, swollen by the beating but not hard. Veins pressed against the flesh of the bold shaft of the penis, from its base to the trimmed crown. It waggled wildly with his every move. “Motherfucker!” he gasped, tucking his knees up, this side and that, attempting to shield himself. “This is the part Aziz enjoys the most; whipping the genitals of a courageous man, reducing him, enjoying his cries of anguish. He has developed this to an art.” I used a crop to draw slow circles around his shuddering groin while I spoke. “God...please...No, don’t,” Evans begged, nearly breathless, his eyes wide. “Well, Lieutenant?” “Christ...I can’t tell you anything...Why are you doing this to me?” He was hyperventilating, talking between the deep gasps that undulated through his thick abdomen. His hair was wet and sweat dripped from his crotch, coloring the concrete between his spread feet. I nodded to the Arab as he shook out his cat. He drew back the tails tight in one hand as he took aim at the exposed, rolling belly. Hiss. SMACK. A spray of sweat vaporized in the air. “Ahhh...Haaaa!! Fuck!! Evans cried, his head jerking back between his shoulders. Another, just below the belly button. SMACK. More sweat flying. The skin reddening as the cats tails fell away. “AHH.” Three, across his chest, a tail kissing his erect left nipple, leaving a mark on his ribs. Four. SMACK. This strike across his naked groin. His ass cheeks puckered, bucked back, his back flexed as the tails tore at his cock and balls, jostling his equipment between his thighs. His dick shrunk into his body, his balls reddening. “AH...HAA HAA. Motherfucker!!!” He cried against the pain. Five. A backhand strike to his mounded butt. Another, and another. The humiliation of having his bare ass spanked, doubling the pain. The cheeks drew tight, muscles rolling as they flexed. The dark cleft clenching and relaxing. “DUAHH...HA.” Nine. “GAAAAAAA.” Fifteen. Thwack. “AAAHHHHH.” All at once the Lieutenant felt the need just below his belly as the pain of the lash spread up his back. Suddenly he could do nothing but let go as a short jet of liquid streamed from the tip of his dick, splashing onto the floor. I laughed at him. He groaned with the new abasement as a heavy stream began, emptying him with a solid, golden flow, sparkling in an arc before him. I stepped aside to avoid getting slashed on and laughed more at his anguish. “Well, after all Aziz, he has been down here all night; men do have their needs. Add ten lashes for making such a mess.” I nodded and the Arab took up his position again, this time standing in the puddle of the man’s waste. “Aw...Shit,” he moaned while the last drops fell to the floor. Back to the front, a strike to his dripping genitals again, harder, more vicious. Evans pulled up hard with his wrists. “Owww. SHIT.” Thirteen. “GGAAAAAA. Please....STOP!” Fourteen. “AAAHHHHHHH Stop, stop, STOP, he screamed.”

Twenty. Another shot to his voluptuous, bright red ass cheeks. He hung nearly unconscious, panting, his burning lungs desperate for air, welts had risen and bruises formed under his skin. Stripes covered his torso and stretched across his upper thighs, ass and back. Aziz stepped back on my signal. While he groaned I brought my hand to his bulging thigh, then into the valleys beside his sac and up onto the bold shaft of his cock and around the head. Fresh blood flowed into the penis and it surged to life in my grip. “Prick....Get off me...Get your fuckin’ hands off my dick,” he gasped and squirmed, trying to escape my touch. While he wriggled, looking vainly for an escape, I ignored his protests and continued handling him until he had risen quite hard in my grip. He huffed and tossed his head back, tugging again on the chains. “God Dammit,” he cursed his own body for its response, then groaned low. I enjoyed the long, solid feel of him. Warm. Throbbing. His balls tight, the head of his cock flared, a bead of moisture at the tip. The cock stood by itself, flexing up before him, following his steady heartbeat. I pulled his bag forward on my fingertips, showing my assistant. “Aziz...” “NO...no,no,no,no...Please don’t,” he cried, as if he read my mind. The muscular arab had tied the end of a soft rope around the top of the sac, pulling the skin deep into the loop. The young Lieutenant garbled and squirmed, his body jolting when Aziz applied too much pressure to his tender eggs. “Owww...Shit...please...Oh, my God...Please, don’t,” he begged, his deep voice cracking, rising. “You can stop this.” I patted his solid rump. “ I don’t fucking know...anything. Please, don’t. GOD!” Aziz curled the cord about his hand, taking up slack on the thin rope. “NNOOOOO!!....Don’t,” he wailed. “GOD, Please.” Gradually the rope tightened. “AHHHH...Ha, ha,” he cried out, an opened-mouthed desperate yowl. “Well?” I asked, watching the cruel loop close on his nuts, pulling them tight into the bottom of his bag. Sweat soaked him again. “Jesus.....I can’t,” he cried. He was panting, working his legs, flexing his back and hips forward to find any relief from the agonizing pressure. “AAAHHH,” he shouted, dancing on his toes, sickness rising in his throat. Slowly Aziz increased the torture, watching the Lieutenant suffer, smiling.

Evans awoke slowly, his muscles singing with pain, his flesh on fire. A hard, cool surface was under him and his face stung, like it had been repeatedly slapped. He tried to move his arms but they were secured above his head, stretched wide in opposite directions; his legs were held the same way, spread wide, cuffed at the ankles. Opening his eyes, he saw the bright white ceiling. His mouth had never been so dry. He bit down on the thick wad of cloth between his jaws. “Ummp...ummpf,” he garbled, pulling up hard on his arms and jolting his hips, falling back hard on the table. He was still naked. Someone in the room was whistling an odd tune, nothing specific, just a tune. He twisted his head but saw nothing. “Help me,” he cried, but it came out as, “Ummpf, ummpf,” again. A man appeared at the side of the table. Arabic, tall and dark, not too old. He reached forward and gripped Evan’s tight bicep, ran his hand over Evan’s chest and onto his concave belly, to the root of his dick. He twisted his body and cursed but there was nowhere to go and no one to hear. The man slapped his belly hard and kept whistling. “Ummmmpf,” he exhaled all at once. Electronic buzzing came from somewhere near his head and he craned his neck to look. The whistler came around to his right side. The buzzing was a razor and he felt its cold head in his armpit, warm, slender fingers manipulating his flesh. The razor turned this way and that until the mans fingers were brushing the destroyed hairs from his skin. More whistling. And, the shaver moved over his chest, first down the center, then brushing out to each side and carefully around his nipples, back toward the pits, catching any straggling hairs. “Uumpf...argh...” He squirmed and pulled hard at his wrists and shook his legs-as much as they moved. “Be still!!” The man stopped whistling and slapped him hard just above his cock, jolting him, knocking the air from him. “Uumff...Uumff...Uumff,” Evans breathed quietly, settling. His rippled abdomen rose and fell, pulling at his taut muscles. The man started whistling the strange tune again as his shaver swept down the center of Evans’ belly, obliterating the dusky trail that had marked his body. He pulled hair from the head of the buzzing machine and began working out from the center to each side. When he turned off the electric razor again he used a small towel to brush the perfect skin clean. “Oo, Oo, Oo,” Evans protested behind the gag and thrust up with his hips, the long muscles of his thighs coiling, wriggling again as the razor started into the dense pelt of the tight, flat triangle, down the center to the root of his cock. “I said quiet down. Stop that squirming,” the man said, delivering a smart slap to Evans’ languid balls. The young officer gasped. Grasping the spongy head, he stretched the penis to the left side, cutting the silky hair away from the shaft, down between the sac and his thigh. Then, up the skin of the bag while he tugged the tortured testicles this way and that. He then razored off the cock itself while he stretched the member up between his slim fingers. “Uumpf...Uumpf...Uumpf...aaaahhh...Unh, Unh,” Evans garbled and pulled his stressed legs when the man worked the shaver below his nuts and into the warm cleft, buzzing off the hair on either side of the fleshy crease, too near his precious hole. “Almost done,” he said with the hint of a British accent. Walking away momentarily, he returned with a silver bowl of steaming water, a mug and a brush. Still whistling, he added some water to the mug and whipped at it until he had worked up a fragrant lather. Starting in the hollows beneath his huge arms again, the man spread on the warm lather, then shaved it away expertly with a sharp razor, one area at a time. Evans heard the rasp of the razor against the tough stubble left on his skin as the man worked, clearing an area, then wiping it clean with a warm, wet cloth. Across his chest, one side then the other, around the delicate ovals of his nipples. Down, across the plain of his flexing belly, into his navel and out to each side of his flexing abdomen. Evans sighed and raised his head to look down before settling again, the soft moan of each breath the only sound beside the constant whistle.

I grinned, watching the young Lieutenant’s undoing on the large screen mounted in my office. His muscular body was magnificent in his struggles, so powerful, yet so sensual in its curves and mounds; his straining muscles and flawless skin. I liked the way the tall Egyptian handled him; casually, as if he were nothing, ignoring his choked protestations and mildly punishing him for his outbursts. Removing the man’s body hair capped his humiliation for me. I wrapped my hand around the cock straining for release from my pants. I was waiting for them when the Egyptian entered with his charge, leading Evans, exhausted, half-stumbling beside him. He brought him to where I stood leaning against the Horse, a piece of equipment, simple yet effective, used quite successfully during the inquisition. It looked like a tall, black sawhorse with a leather top and two sets of legs angling out away from the center. They were bolted to the floor and fitted with rings installed at several points along the long legs. “Don’t you look nice, Lieutenant, or Special Agent. Which is it? All shaved...,” “Ummpf....ummpf, he garbled, shaking his head. I ran my hand over the mounds of his chest and down onto his belly, slapping his navel hard. He bent, gasping, trying to close his body against my assault. “All nice and clean. Um Hm. Very nice.” I pulled the gag from his mouth. “Why...? What the fuck are you doing?” he coughed and pulled at the chain holding his wrists against the curve of his butt. “It’s so simple. I just want you to talk to me. Tell me who else is working here with you. “You’ll save yourself much more...discomfort.” I opened a bottle of water and tipped it up to his lips, watching his throat work busily swallowing the liquid. “That’s better, isn’t it? Now, how about who you’re working for.” He twisted and pulled at his bonds, still not giving in. “I am a Navy supply officer....God, that’s it!” he said, the beginnings of a sob in his voice. “Very well. We tried. Aziz.” “NOO! Fuck! No more,” He shouted and squirmed as the arab grasped one bicep, the big Egyptian the other and backed him against the horse. It hit his back just above his buttocks. “Owww. Shit...” I smoothed my palm over his sweating chest again as the men secured his spread ankles against the front legs of the bench. “Uhahhh,” He groaned as they forced him back, his rib cage pressed against the top, fastening his wrists down on the rear legs. His thick chest convulsed, his belly sunk as he tried to breath against the pressure across his spine. Evan’s legs angled out awkwardly from his tortured hips then back in again toward his ankles. His head laid back, his throat drawn tight. At that angle, raising his head was nearly impossible. “During the inquisition this device was very effective in getting the desired results. The body is so vulnerable, not to mention the discomfort...right?” I took the peak of one of his pouting nipples between my fingers and squeezed, adding more and more pressure. “AHHHH..HAA,” he cried, raising his head as far as the bonds would allow before dropping back. “PLEASE. I don’t know anything about the CIA or shit,” he begged, gagging. I hoped he wouldn’t talk. He was too perfect, too beautiful, particularly in his suffering. I had to stress that body to its limits; and his physical condition would extend all the limits. To conquer him and make him obey was my goal. He just was not aware of it. I slid my hand over his belly, onto the solid plain of his pubis, touching the root of his dick. He was truly beautiful, stretched like this. “They say that objects were inserted into the male victim’s penis, bringing all sorts of information. Or, they were disemboweled very slowly...while the man was conscious, just imagine...how very painful....” I drew my finger slowly up the center of his straining abdomen to his chest. “Oh God....NOO....Argh...Hmmpf, Hmmpf,” he coughed. I nodded to Aziz who took aim at the pulsing belly with his flog. SMACK. A strike across his perfect abs. The tails leaving more red streaks across his skin, the tips adding more speckled bruises to his flank. “AAAHHH..HAA,” he wailed. Hard blows fell; another and another. After number five, which hit him across his loins again, I grasped him by the hips, pulling his body forward, adding more strain to his already severely tortured legs. “What are you doing?” GET THE FUCK OFFA ME!” he panted, stretching, twisting, trying to see anything happening above his chest. Impossible. While he squirmed I lifted the hairless sac from between the Lieutenant’s thighs and fitted his nuts into a leather ball-separator, a strap designed to push the testicles apart inside their bag. In this case, to make them an easier target for Azizs’ flog, adding considerably more pain when they were attacked. “Eergh...!” he cried when I squeezed one of his tender eggs between the leather bands and snapped it tight. “Maybe you can tell me something before we proceed?” “FUCK YOU,” he seethed between clenched jaws. I heard him huffing deep breaths through his mouth, getting ready. “Very well. Aziz.” The cat landed with a snap and thud directly across his cock and tortured balls. They jumped between his thighs. “EEERGH...AAHH,” he shrieked. Aziz attacked his groin again and again, aiming expertly, hammering the perfect genitals yet never breaking the skin. The Lieutenant was begging and garbling; his cock and balls reddened and on fire when I ordered the whipping stopped. He hung there panting and gasping for breath, unable to lift his head. “Do you have anything to tell me, Mr. Evans?” I leaned down and looked at his inflamed face. “Yeah...fuck yourself,” he managed to spit. “You’re so stubborn...but, I think I might have something....Aziz, get the cart.” Evans twisted his neck toward the sound of metal wheels scraping and rolling on concrete but he only saw the mans feet beside him. He tried to raise his head but the strain was too great. There were cool hands manipulating his penis, pressing at its swollen, sore lips. Then, something hard and cold at its tip. “What’s that?”he cried, trying to crane his neck to see the men bending over him. “What are you doing? PLEASE...Not my dick. Please...no, no!!!” There was something inside him. Cold and hard, sliding further in, filling his urethra. Then the stubby fingers were snapping something onto the metal clamp securing his right ankle. He shouted, squirming and fighting with the last of his strength before he fell back, panting. Aziz looked at me and nodded, smiling grimly past his rotted teeth. The shiny rod he’d inserted in the man’s body stood out from his cock hole and waggled above his mid-section, a red alligator clip snapped onto it. “You can stop this. I really do hate to cause you such terrible pain. We’ll begin with very low voltage; nothing more than a tickle inside. Then, it will build...slowly, of course, so you can savor the excruciating pain as it increases.” “I don’t know anything NO...not that....Oh GOD, please, don’t do this..” He heard the rasp of a control and felt the tingle, like an itch in the pit of his body. Then, another click. “Oh God, Oh God, Oh, God. SHIT...NO, DON’T. AAAHHHH,” he screamed and then it stopped and his body shuddered. Sweat ran from his chest and dripped off his sides in rivulets. “Well....?” I said. “I think a man built like you can take a lot more “I....ahhh...can’t tell you anything,” he murmured, breathless. “Aziz....” “Oh my God...NO...Don’t.” Click. Click “AAAHHH...AAAHHH...SHIT. EEEAAAHHH.” Then, he made an animal-like shriek as the current tore at his body. Every muscle in his taut body shook for terrible seconds. When it stopped he could do nothing but gasp, trying to fill his lungs with desperate gulps. His body was magnificent, naked and straining; sweating and stretched to its limit. “All .....right...all...right,” he sighed. “Please....stop.” Evan’s body went limp suddenly, his head dropping down between his wide shoulders. “Take him back to the table.” “Come on. Wake up. Tell me something.” I slapped his face hard again. “I’m not alone. There’s....another seal...CIA...can I have some water....please?” he coughed. “Aziz....water,” I ordered.

“You think they bought it?” I asked as I turned from the small bar and handed Scott a glass of wine before pouring a scotch for myself. “Yes Sir, they bought it. If he hadn’t that prick never would have let me go. Right now they’re tripping over each other trying to find the other Seal. I’ll tell you, Sir, I doubted for awhile if I’d make it out alive.” He took a sip of the wine and stood up, pulling the damp towel from his hips as he turned toward his Master. “It’s good to have you back. I’m awfully glad you did make it out,” I moaned next to his ear while I filled my other hand with the ample equipment between his thighs. “Does it still hurt?” “Not much anymore. Itches a little sometimes.” Evans smiled slightly and tipped his head down, his hands tucked tight against his ass.. “Go get your probe. Did you get off during their floggings? The truth, son,” I asked as Evans crossed to the highboy against the wall and fished in the top drawer. “No, Sir, I didn’t. The henchman was good though. I was afraid they’d see me enjoying it, then I’d be in trouble.” He knelt at his owners feet, head bowed to present the heavy surgical steel probe, his thick cock already fully erect, bobbing up toward his belly. Evans swivelled his body, hands again clasped behind his back, and bent forward. His broad shoulders and forehead resting on the carpet. His ass was up high, his balls swaying obscenely between his spread thighs. “I like you shaved like that,” I said, running his palms over the man’s butt cheeks and down between his legs. “I think I’ll keep you that way.” I pressed Evans’ cheeks apart, exposing the pink, puckered opening. “Yes, Sir, Senator.” Evans shuddered as the tool pressed at his sphincter and slipped in past the ring of muscle, sinking deep into the velvet channel. I worked it deeper until Evans emitted a soft moan beneath me and rotated his hips. “Be still, boy. You know better than that.” I delivered a hard swat to a solid ass cheek. The slave could get no pleasure from this exercise at all. It wasn’t meant for his enjoyment. “I’m sorry, Sir,” he breathed. The probe found the hardened gland and I pressed it in and withdrew it again and again, massaging the nub while the naked Lieutenant sighed into the rug under his cheek. Finally, when a drip of cum appeared, I slipped an empty glass under the tip of the young officer’s bobbing cock. A stream of milky semen escaped the deep slit and flowed into the receptacle until only thick drops were added to the puddle at the bottom of the crystal container. “Very good, boy.” I said and swirled the cooling seed in the glass before handing it to my slave. I watched closely as his boy tipped it back and slid the juice into his mouth. “Now, come to bed, boy. I’ll show I can do to properly welcome you home.” I cupped his chin in my big hand and let my thumb brush over his lower lip. When his mouth opened I slipped my thumb onto his warm, welcoming tongue. We both sighed aloud.