Eastern Delights

Bodie was a farm boy from North Carolina with big, weed-pulling fists that could thump the biggest of enemies into the ground. He was a sweet boy with docile blue eyes and a mean temper. He had never gotten an A in his life, but that didn't matter to Bodie because he had no plans to go to college this year. After school he'd work on his family's farm until the day he inherited it, and that was just what he wanted; to be the proud, hard-working king of his domain.

Vikas had a sweet face too. He, on the other hand, was small and lean and charismatic. The young heir of India's wealthiest family, he was essentially royalty, and with that came a certain measure of justified smugness. He had never been refused a single indulgence in his life and never would.

And so, with Vikas' 19th birthday approaching and Bodie setting off on a backpacking trip around India with his buddies, it came to be that these perfectly opposite boys from opposite ends of the worlds would come to meet.

On the morning Bodie's plane launched into the sky, while a stewardess insisted he and his jubilant friends stop jumping in their seats and shouting across the aisle to each other, Vikas was finishing his birthday wish by lamplight, in bed..

- iPad 2

- Ferrari Enzo, yellow

- Dr Dre Beats headphones

- American boy. Blond, blue eyes, nice

* * *

Bodie was 6.3, but in Vikas' hands he was kitten-sized.

No-one could explain exactly how. It was the way the blond boy instinctively cowered at his master's feet, perhaps. It was the fact they he was never allowed to be eye-level. Wide green eyes, staring up at brown eyes. It was the way Vikas would stroke Bodie's face with just his fingertips, tickling him with a smile both adoring and comfortably superior. It was the dainty way Bodie would kiss the Indian boy's shoes. Forgetting his years on the football field, forgetting the concept of his masculinity, he would pucker his lips and dab them against the shoes' long, square toes, making cute little smooching noises.

Their size difference was unnoticable as Vikas rubbed his hand over the crouching slave's face. As long as Bodie could be kept on his knees with the whisper of a command, they appeared as they were: a boy and his pet, nothing more.

* * *

Vikas sat in the vast front room of the family mansion, conversing with his father's friends during one of the regular dinner parties that were held here. The boy exhaled long white streams of smoke through his nose, playing with the hookah hose between his slim fingers. He talked and laughed while his shoes sat on the floor by his seat, and his feet rested on Bodie's bowed head.

Bodie was dressed as always in clean white boxer briefs. Clothes were a status symbol that he was not permitted, but to maintain his modesty his sizeable manhood was always encased in cotton. Bodie remembered when having a big dick made him feel like a man, back in a time when he was allowed to feel masculine. Before the smallest display of pride or confidence resulted in a decorated whip slashing at his back or buttocks, or even his face if he was audacious enough to speak directly to his master. The first time, the pain took his breath away for a minute. After that he learned fast, and now whenever Vikas entered the room he was greeted by a silent storm of kisses all over his feet. Vikas adored this, just as he enjoyed seeing a big muscle-bound man roll on his back on command, accepting whatever baby talk or delighted laughter his Master dealt him. Once his masculinity was plucked away from him forever, Bodie made one adorable pet.

Vikas shuffled his feet back into his shoes and snapped his fingers, commanding Bodie to follow him upstairs. In his room, away from the noise of the party, a darkly gleeful look took over the young man's face as he pushed his door shut. He stood in front of Bodie, who posed stiffly on his knees, his eyes staring straight down at his owner's jeweled leather slippers. The toes curled upward, seeming to naturally sneer somehow, just like the boy who wore them. "You love your master?" Vikas asked, arms folded.

Bodie nodded silently. Just in case this was a test, he didn't make eye contact without permission. "Yes, you love your master. Very.. much.." As Vikas spoke his delicate hand descended past the kneeling boy's bare abs. Bodie jerked back, shocked, when the long fingers stroked his most shameful and private of parts.

Not a second later the whip thrashed his cheek and he bit down on a howl of pain. Adamant, Vikas reached down again and asserted himself. "I said, you love your master." He squeezed the other boy's large testicles in his palm, inspiring the dormant cock to unfold in a single long stir, pitching a tent thicker than the rich boy's wrist. Vikas' eyes glowed hungrily. This sort of behaviour was strictly forbidden in his family. He knew he would never have a real boyfriend. But a mute, humble servant was the perfect toy to explore his burning curiosity with. He stroked the long, cotton clad pole while Bodie struggled to balance on his thick, trembling thighs.

"You seem to like me very much. I think you may be in love with me." Vikas suggested as he thumbed the damp, bulbous knob at the end of the rod. He had never seen a penis this big in person before, even wrapped in cotton. He couldn't believe that he finally had his very own well hung man to toy with at his leisure. "No wonder you hurry always to kiss my feet, to be by my side. Do you wish you were my boyfriend?" He enquired cheekily.

Quietly sobbing, Bodie nodded. He wasn't gay. He had no idea what kind of sick game this was, but to disagree with this kid would be suicidal. If Vikas wanted an admirer, that was him. If Vikas wanted a cock to tease and play with, it was his to take. Because if Vikas ever became upset and wanted Bodie turned to dog food, it would be done within the hour. "I love you, Master." He whispered through his tears.

Vikas' smirk grew, ear to ear. This was the best birthday present ever.

The boy's thin, agile fingers scratched lightly, stroking the rock hard tent from base to tip, until Bodie's body was blushed all over and his muscular farm-worked legs were quaking with painful restraint.

"I think you are very close to proving your love for me." Vikas said with a smile. He was about to witness something he had always wanted to see the expressions, the sounds, the smells associated with a man's orgasm. The total vulnerability. And it would happen when he chose, probably at his very next touch.

"Vikas! What are you doing up here? My guests are asking after you." The boy's father, a tall, broad, suited man in his 50s bellowed from the doorway. Vikas jumped in shock. With his back to the doorway, Bodie closed his eyes and prayed to disappear. "What are you doing up here with your American boy?"

"Father! He followed me up here. He.. He says he is in love with me." At that moment Vikas lifted his foot as if to plant it on Bodie's chest. Instead he brought it down, applying just enough pressure to step on the slave's covered cock head, squashing the knob ever so lightly under his hard shoe sole. One twitch, a rush of blood and Bodie was helpless. The orgasm devoured him.

His big, beautiful body bucked involuntarily on the bedroom floor. Torrents of cum spurted into his underwear, the hot cream seeping through to and drizzling down his thigh. Vikas looked on with wide, ecstatic eyes while the young man yelped in conflicted pleasure, finally falling on his hands and slumping his humiliated face against his cruel teen master's shoes.

The father roared. Vikas stepped back, concealing a hysterical smile as he demanded indignantly. "Father! He is mad! I want a new servant, one who won't throw himself at me this way!" It was only the older man's rage that kept him from realising his son was laughing.

Two hulking guards appeared and threw a collar around Bodie's neck, whipping him savagely as they dragged him out of the room, choking for mercy. On his way to the cellar his soiled underwear caught and tore half way down his reddened legs, but the lashes continued until the cellar doors were slammed shut, not to be opened until he was dragged back out and auctioned off to the first owner of a sweat shop or whore house.

Upstairs, the boy's father paced Vikas' room. "That kind of behaviour! In my house!" He fumed.

Vikas did his best to soothe him. "You couldn't have known, father. But you must make sure his replacement is older and not as foolish. Some-one big and mature, who is nice and developed for me."