Gittin' It All

"I want to start into the DP. I want him riding both cocks under his own power and by his own preference by Sunday afternoon."

"Isn't that a little soon for . . .?"

"Your job is to make sure it isn't too soon. I want it done. You brought me a perfect one."

Gillespie pulled out of Paul's ass, lifted the young man off the table, forced him to his knees in front of his master, and made him clean Gillespie's cock with his mouth.

Who was master and who was servant was reestablished.

* * * *

Dale's eyes went big and he gasped when the door between his room and the room behind it in the rock foundation of the A-frame cabin clanged open and he was pulled into the chamber by Gillespie. The walls were windowless rock as in the bedroom cell, but the wall at the back was trenched and lined with gas fire logs throwing up a flame, which was the only flickering illumination on the room. The walls were lined with manacles and whips and chains. A sling with a black-leather pouch was at one side, chains with wrist restraints hung down at another side, with other chains and ankle restraints on the floor under them. There was some kind of reclining board affair with restraints attached to it. And in the center, Where Dale was led was a framed contraption of sling and chains and restraints.

When Dale was bound to this frame, his arms were raised and spread on chains with padded restraints at wrist and above the elbows, his shoulder blades rested on a strip of black leather, and his legs were raised and split on other chains and were bent back each other so that his heels were tucked under his buttocks and restrained there. The leg chains pulled his pelvis higher than his shoulders. His body was suspended a couple of feet off the floor, set at the perfect angle for Gillespie to stand between his spread thighs and fuck him. The gasping and screaming and groaning had started when Gillespie attached the tit clamps that were joined by a chain and then pulled on the chain, pulling the nipples up from Dale's smooth, boyish chest. The strain and pain had brought Dale's head up only to find that Gillespie was straddling his throat and pressing his cock between Dale's lips to force the young man to get him hard with a slow, tonsil-probing face fuck.

When Gillespie pulled away from this end, he harnessed a strap-on cock, attached to project from the base of his balls under his own cock. With remembrance of what Paul had told him about Dale having taken the length of LeRoy and the thickness of Alphonse, black football players whose cocks were legendary at the university, Gillespie had strapped on one of the bigger dildos, ten inches long to exceed LeRoy by an inch and two-and-a-quarter-inch thickness to exceed Alphonse by a bit.

To his surprise—and possibly to the small blond's as well—with the dildo well greased up, Gillespie had managed to stuff it all, to the hilt inside Dale's passage, amid considerable writhing and screaming by Dale, his head thrown back to where he watched the flaming wall upside down while Gillespie buried the dildo inside him. Both were sweating like greased pigs during the insertion process.

When the dildo had bottomed, Gillespie left it there, grasped his cock and Dale's, both rock hard, and stroked them together until both of them had ejaculated. He pulled the dildo out of Dale's channel, tested how the reaming was going with his fingers, while Dale begged him to fuck him for real, and then came around to the front and made Dale clean his cock with his mouth. Grabbing Dale's head by the hair then, he lifted it and shoved the young man's face up into his arm pits, one at a time and then onto his chest, for Dale to tongue off the sweat Gillespie had built up.

To Gillespie's satisfaction, Dale found all of this arousing and he took up the begging for Gillespie to fuck him. With Gillespie he'd get a bit of both LeRoy and Alphonse, although not quite the measurement of either one of them.

Instead of his cock, he brought in front of Dale's face a string of tear-drop-shaped graduated balls. These were what Gillespie used to measure the progress of his reaming project with. The largest ball was four inches in diameter. Dale moaned at the sight of the string and then writhed and panted and groaned as Gillespie slowly began burying them in his channel. The channel took four balls, the largest being two and a half in thickness, before Dale's sobbing and screams convinced Gillespie that this was the limit for now. There were three balls left. If they all were buried, it would be a bit over twelve inches in depth.

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," Dale was murmuring when Gillespie had finished slowly plopping the balls out of the passageway. And Dale's cock was rock hard again. The lad was still with the project. Gillespie leaned over, took the cock in his mouth, and rewarded the young man with a pelvis thrusting explosive release.

Gillespie patted the young blond on the thigh, whispered, "You're doin' great," and announced that he was going to take a break.

"What about me?" Dale whimpered. "I need to piss real bad."

"So do it," Gillespie said and walked out of the dungeon.

When he came back, he pulled over a length of hose, turned the water on, and sluiced down Dale's body. The floor sloped to a drain right under the frame Dale was attached to.

Gillespie was wearing another strap-on dildo. This one was an inch longer than the first one he'd used but not even half as thick. Gillespie's own cock was sheathed, though, and erect. And he made sure Dale could see the two cocks together as he approached. Dale moaned and started to beg, knowing what was about to happen.

"But you wanted me to fuck you," Gillespie said, with a laugh. Dale whimpered and writhed as best he could as Gillespie saddled up to him and started to bury the dildo. This time Gillespie put the dildo into action, fucking Dale at increasing depth in slow in and out glides until the young man had taken all eleven inches.

The young man's body was shuddering and he was sweating profusely, panting heavily, and moaning in low tones. Gillespie reached over with a small bottle in his hand, told Dale to breath in, and hit him with a couple of sniffs of a popper. When Dale's body quieted down, Gillespie pulled his pelvis back, bringing the dildo tip almost out to the surface. But this was only to permit him to push the underside of his cock down on top of the greased dildo and then to start pushing both of them, together, into the channel. At four inches of the double penetration, Gillespie gave Dale another hit of the popper. At seven inches, another hit. When the dildo was bottomed out again and the two cocks began to slowly pump, Dale was silent, completely docile and fully relaxed, save a twitch or two at the extreme depth of the thrust.

Dale, with the help of Gillespie's hand, had already come again, and Gillespie peacefully continued with his slow pump until he had ejaculated into the condom as well. Dale was just lying there, loose as a rag doll, humming in low tones to himself. A beaded string check revealed that another ball could be buried. Three inches wide.

Gillespie looked at his own hand bunched up into a fist. He estimated he would need four inches clearance. He always had before except that time when his hand had been swollen in a bar fight. But he had managed the fucker that time. Maybe five inches.

When Paul came down to tell Gillespie their supper was ready, Dale was still on the frame, and Gillespie was standing between his legs. There was a rolling hospital cart beside Gillespie now, though. The top surface was covered with a white cloth, and the gleam of silver rods, called wands, was being picked up by the flickering light of the wall of fire. When Paul came up beside Gillespie, he saw what he expected to see. Gillespie was sounding the cock of the bound blond. The cock was erect and throbbing. A silver sounding wand had been inserted and run down in the urethra—the piss slit—and Gillespie was slowly spinning the rod with his fingers.

One of Dale's arms had been released and he held a bottle of poppers in that hand. Gillespie was permitting him to take popper hits at his own discretion. His head was thrown back and he was moaning deeply. Paul could see the tension in all of his limbs and knew that every fiber of the young man's being was focused in that rod buried in his urethra and being slowly, teasingly twisted.

"He's about ready to blow," Gillespie muttered. "Give him another, maybe two sizes up, while I go get ready for dinner. And let him come."

As Gillespie turned and walked away, Paul grasped the underside of Dale's cock with one hand and slowly pulled the wand out of the piss slit.

"Paul, Paul," Dale begged in a faraway voice. "Fuck me, fuck me, please. And make me come."

Paul looked around to see if Gillespie was still nearby, but he wasn't. So he took a condom packet off a lower shelf of the hospital cart, rolled it on his already engorged cock, moved between Dale's legs, and slid inside his passageway. He marveled at how loose and open Dale was. Of course Gillespie had been working on him all day. He crouched over Dale's chest so that Dale could reach and rub his nipples with his one free hand while Paul fucked him.

Dale was sighing and murmuring to himself, moving toward release. Mindful of what he'd been told to do, though, Paul straightened up, reached over to pick up a wand two sizes thicker than the one he'd pulled out of Dale's cock and, holding the underside of the cock steady even as he was slow pumping his own, slowly inserted the wand. Dale's body tensed up immediately, and he began to grunt and groan. He went rigid and cum bubbled up around the sides of the buried wand and dribbled down the sides of his cock.

Paul couldn't spend the time with this that he wanted, so he pulled out of Dale's channel, ripped the condom off, and quickly stroked himself to an ejaculation down Dale's belly. He left the wand buried as he turned and fled the room.

"You're late," Gillespie growled when Paul came to the dinner table.

"He took longer to come than I thought he would," Paul answered.

Gillespie gave him a searching look but said no more before digging into dinner. He's had a taxing day and was quite hungry.

"You've gotten him to what now?" Paul asked.

"Three inches for sure," Gillespie answered. He's perfect and a sweet piece.

"But he's small. Don't you think—?"

"Four inches," Gillespie said as if there was no discussion of that. "I'd do five if I had longer. He's just perfect. Two cocks and a dildo is the most I've gotten inside an ass of someone his size. I'd like to—"

"But what if he doesn't want to go farther? For the fraternity needs, he should be good now. And when do we give him an option next?"

"I don't know if I care if he doesn't want to go farther. You can ask him in the morning. But he's tougher than I had given him credit for. And he still is saying he wants it."

"But maybe after tonight—"

"You can ask him. We'll see what's what if he says no."

Paul bit off what he wanted to say to that. He was on dangerous ground questioning the master this much—not to mention having fucked Dale before dinner without instructions to do so. But the coach was on dangerous ground too. They'd gone into this agreeing to limits, limits based on what the subject could take and wanted to take once they'd accommodated to having been snatched. Gillespie was challenging these limits. He'd already gone way too far twice. And they'd gotten away with it; nobody to complain. But that had to be something completely in the past, mistakes that they didn't make anymore.

After dinner, they both returned to the dungeon. Paul had been invited to watch, but once they got there, Gillespie grabbed him and pulled him over to the incline board. Holding Paul close to him with a firm grip on both of his upper arms, Gillespie hissed, "There an open condom packet under the cart. You fucked him, didn't you? That's why you were late to dinner."

"He begged me, E," Paul said in a plaintive voice. But Gillespie was already pushing him down on the incline board. The board was pitched so that Paul's head was toward the ground. He was firmly strapped flat on his back on the board by restraints on his arms and legs, around his belly and around his neck. The leg attachments on the board were parted and bent up, so that his legs were bent up and spread and his ass was raised by a thick pad under the small of his back, exposing his buttocks and anal entrance to the automatic fucking machine Gillespie had set up between Paul's spread and bent legs. A twelve-inch-long, two-inch-thick rubber dildo attachment on the end of the machine arm had been thrust into Paul's ass. Gillespie pointed said he was being kind. The dildo would penetrate no further than six inches. But he set it on medium thrust, and as Paul began to grunt and groan and ineffectually apologize and beg for mercy, Gillespie walked back to where Dale was bound to the frame.

Dale gasped and groaned as Gillespie pulled the buried wand out of the piss slit, only to reach for the next larger size. On the size after that, Gillespie left the wand buried, greased up his right hand, and started experimenting how far up Dale's ass he could get it. He got all of the fingers and the thumb in, up to the knuckle. When he spread the fingers inside the channel, Dale cried out, arched his back against the restraint of the bonds, and cum burbled up around the buried wand.

"Very good," Gillespie murmured. "You're doing great." He pulled the wand out and came around, bent down, and gave Dale a deep kiss on the mouth. And then another, until the young blond was greedily returning the kisses. The perfect one, Gillespie thought. A chill ran down his spine. If I had him for just a week.

"Is it still Friday?" Dale asked in a weak voice when he had been released from the last kiss. Gillespie had released the tit clamps too and was rubbing the nipples, which were plumping right up for him.

"Yes, it's still Friday. We still have all day Saturday and most of Sunday. You've come so far. I'm told you've taken LeRoy and Alphonse, but separately. Don't you want to be able to take them together?"

"I suppose," Dale answered in a small, faraway voice.

"You just suppose? You aren't sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"In that case, this is all worth it. You don't want to stop, do you?" He held his breath. The point of losing the willingness may have come earlier than he'd thought. But this one was so perfect. Gillespie had no intention of stopping.

"No, but there is something I'd like."

"What?"

"A regular fuck once in a while. Getting off the normal way. A hard cock inside me. And no condom. I'm clean if you and Paul are."

Chills went up Gillespie's spine again. He certainly was clean. Tested frequently, as Paul was. They barebacked.

"We can do," he answered. He didn't mention that Paul would be fucking Dale all night, to keep him exhausted. He unhooked the young man, and carried him gently over to the suspended sling.

As he passed the incline board, he flipped the fucking machine off and pulled the release on the restraints, and Paul thanked him with a deep groan.

Gillespie laid Dale, belly down in the sling, with both arms and legs dangling toward the floor. He fucked him slow and deep and bareback from behind, rewarding him for a day well endured. His hands went under Dale's chest, and he cupped and rubbed Dale's nipples. He teeth gently pressed into the nape of Dale's neck, until Dale turned his face toward him and they kissed. Paul went under the sling and took Dale's cock in his mouth.

The day ended with a "normal," peaceful fuck. This, though, was only a preliminary to the night of fucking in Dale's bedroom cell, riding Paul's cock and being ridden by Paul's cock every two hours for the rest of the night.

* * * *

Late Saturday morning, exhausted and glassy eyed, Dale lay on his back in the sling, no restraints, a bottle of poppers in his hand to be used at will, while Gillespie double fucked him, bareback and with an eleven-and-a-half-inch-long, two-and-three-quarters-inch thick dildo. There was no fight in Dale; he laid there and took it, with sighs and deep moans, taking a hit on the popper probably a few more times then he should be doing.

Paul had asked him in the morning if he wanted to quit, but a challenge was averted when he answered no. Paul had been sent upstairs to get some shuteye.

Knowing now that Dale would take it if given some affection with it, Gillespie was kissing him on the lips, sucking on the young man's nipples, and using his cock like a gear shift when he fucked him. Dale hadn't lost interest. He came more than once, in a strong arc of cum, but otherwise his body was elsewhere altogether.

After the fuck he took all but the last of the string of balls. He'd taken three-and-a-half thick inches.

After lunch, Gillespie put him on the incline board, with the fucking machine, and attachment of three clustered one-and-a-half-inch rubber dildos. He took it with a minimum of crying out and begging for mercy—all of that muted, though, as he was totally exhausted and half way to the wind. After that, a three-inch-thick dildo, thirteen inches long, was successfully nearly completely buried. After this success, Gillespie released the young man, took him in his arms, and cuddled with him, while working his body with his hand. He was waiting for the request for a "normal fuck," and granted the wish, at least at the start, when he heard it.

Dale groaned and grunted when Gillespie started also working the thirteen-incher, three-inches-thick dildo into the passage as he embraced Dale in a close-lock chest hold. With a whimper, though, Dale relaxed to it and took both cocks.

The epitome of the evening came after dinner, when after another double penetration fuck was accomplished. This time no dildo. Gillespie and Paul took him together, the two men standing, facing each other in the center of the dungeon, and Dale suspended between them, taking the longer Paul from the front and the thicker Gillespie from the rear, his chest embraced by Gillespie and his knees hooked on Paul's hips.

The goal of taking two men simultaneously had been reached. The goal of Dale seeking it out on his own still had not.

Afterward he took all four of the balls on the string.

Gillespie celebrated by handing Dale from the suspended chains on the other side of the room, suspended in air with restraints spread-eagling him from the ceiling, getting his full, greased fist up into the channel, and moving Dale body around in the air with the strength of his fist inside Dale's ass.

Dale was only conscious for a part of that exercise. It had been a long day, an abundance of ejaculations and poppers.

When Dale came to, Gillespie permitted him to go off to the shower in the bathroom adjoining his bedroom cell. It was a large shower, and there was no secret to why. He was soaping up when Gillespie and Paul joined him. They pushed him to the floor of the shower, onto his shoulders, and Gillespie jerked up and spread his legs, holding them spread, and jack-hammer fucked down into Dale's channel. At a signal from Gillespie, Paul started peeing on Dale's face.

"Just wanted you to know that there is a lot more involved in BDSM if you want to go that route than I've done to you," Gillespie said. After the fuck, he added his pee to Paul's across Dale's prone body, and then they left him in peace on the floor of the shower.

They went upstairs for a celebratory drink. Saturday had been a big success.

* * * *

Sunday morning was graduation. Gillespie and Paul lay on their backs on the floor of the bedroom cell, facing away from each other, but thighs overlapping thighs and both of their fists fisting both of their cocks together.