Everything But

"I would like to get to the dessert you promised me," he said. "I wish to use this young man now."

Barrington must have seen the resulting expression of slight consternation on my face, as he was staring at me, willing me to do something. This suddenly was moving very fast. Crowley's fingering of my cock through my trousers was near to making me come. I didn't know what Barrington wanted me to do, but my body involuntarily answered the call. With a shudder, my legs went to putty and parted and Crowley's hand cupped my basket briefly, no doubt taking that as surrender. I came in my trousers, wetting them. And, smiling, Crowley removed his hand.

I lowered my face again in a submissive gesture and when I looked up, I saw that he'd taken his hand away and had his thumb in his mouth—the thumb that had brought the cum out of my cock and soaked a spot in my trousers. He smiled licentiously at me. I returned a somewhat weaker smile and lowered my eyes again.

"If you don't want another cup of coffee, we can be finished here," Barrington said. "If you have the time and inclination, we can show you our line of equipment—at one of our showrooms—a very private showroom."

"Take me there," Crowley answered in a low, hoarse voice.

"I have a carriage waiting for us outside."

In the carriage, Barrington sat next to us in the darkness of the rear compartment, holding my trousers and underdrawers in his hand, as I sat in Crowley's lap, facing forward, his cock out of his trousers, Crowley was otherwise fully dressed, and stroking up and down the small of my back, while he cupped my chin in one hand, pulling my face around for an exploration of my mouth cavity by his tongue, while he stroked off my shaft with the other hand. I could tell from the feel of his cock that he was massive, both in length and girth.

I came for him again, splashing my cum onto the back of the partition between our compartment and the driver, which seemed to please Crowley greatly. Barrington had told me early in our practice of "everything but" that the controller enjoyed it more if the submissive ejaculated frequently while the controller held himself in check for a final flourish. In this regard, Barrington said Crowley was like him.

"He comes nicely," Crowley said as he pushed me off his lap, tucked his own cock away, and buttoned his fly.

"And frequently," Barrington responded, "as I told you he would."

* * * *

"Bravo, such grace," Barrington called out.

"Beautiful," Crowley chimed in. "His body is superb. Such flexibility. I can't wait to use him."

I had demonstrated a routine on the high bar to begin with and now had done some flips on the rings. I was a bit rusty, but as I was doing the exercises naked and the two men were swigging bourbon, that didn't seem to matter much to them. They both were fairly salivating at what this was building up to.

Crowley stood and came to me as I hung from the rings. He was nearly as naked as I was. He was wearing some sort of black leather chaps that left his low-hanging cock and balls exposed and a black leather hood, with eyeholes, that came down just as far as his nose in front. He cut an imposing figure. Heavy he was, with a beer belly on him, he was imposingly muscular too. His pecs were hard and he was covered with curly red hair—a thick thatch across his chest that descended into a riot of curly hair at his groin from which a mammoth, thick cock rose in an angry-looking upcurved erection. His back, thighs, and forearms were similarly covered in hair. His complexion was ruddy, his legs muscular, his biceps bulging. The whole package came together to resonate "master."

He was an animal in both his looks and how he subsequently used me.

He came to me as I hung off the floor on the rings and encircled my waist in his strong embrace. Kissing my belly and tonguing my navel, he growled, "Hang your legs on my shoulders," and when I did, he kissed down into my pubes, took my cock in his mouth, and sucked me to an ejaculation. Suspended there in air, I moved my hips, fucking his face. He took my cum in his throat and then sucked hard on my bulb until, moaning deeply at his insistent demand of more from me, I gave him a secondary ejaculation. My balls already were beginning to ache from the draining.

This was more than Barrington had done with me—and this was fine. If this was the extent of it, it would be fine, I thought. But of course he wasn't done with me. I didn't kid myself that he would be. He pulled me off the rings and took me over to a piece of equipment I'd never seen before. I'd looked at it when we'd entered the windowless chamber and tried to figure out how it was used in exercise.

It wasn't used in exercise. It was built for testing sex. It was one of the "everything but" club's devices that Barrington had brought out for this visit. This was where my flexibility was to come in as well as Crowley's taking me to the edge of being broken.

The contraption was in somewhat of a saw horse configuration, with the small of my back lying on a thick, wide pad on the top and me bent over either side, my ankles initially lashed to the spread legs of the device on one side and my wrists to the spread legs of the device on the other side. Using this configuration, Crowley worked our penises for a while, as Barrington, dressed, but his cock out and being stroked, sat at the sidelines and watched. Standing over and below me, Crowley frotted our cocks for a while, bundling them and stroking them. Then he docked them for a while, as Barrington had done in his office previously. Crowley made the cock heads kiss and then he folded his foreskin over my bulb and stroked the cocks until I came, my cum burbling out around the edges of his foreskin, my balls tender and aching from the demand to produce ejaculate.

He knelt then and cleaned my glans with his tongue, but from there, he became rougher, sucking on my bulb hard, while he distended and squeezed my balls to hear me scream and enjoy my writhing against my bonds on the horse. He bit the sides of my cock and sucked my ball sack hard, laughing at my unheeded cries for mercy.

"Yes, let me hear your passion—your distress," he growled.

I didn't hold back.

"Yes, yes, punish me. Take me hard!" I cried out, knowing that was what Barrington wanted me to say, at least halfway wanting it. Wanting to know how much harder I could get, how much I could give before breaking. The rumbling I could hear from deep in Crowley's throat told me I was giving him what he wanted from me.

Eventually, he grew tired of this and moved around to my head, stopping at one side of me, forcing his cock into my armpit and stroking it there. Coming around to my head, he slapped me on the face, biceps, and shoulders with his cock and rubbed it on my cheeks, encouraging me to open my mouth to it. Instinctively, and exhausted, I turned my face away, but, with a laugh, he forced my mouth open by sticking the fingers of both hands in it and spreading my mouth.

"Yes, fight me. It will do you no good, but fight me."

With a groan, I collapsed and made a big O of my mouth. He was right; there was no fighting him. He slid his cock inside deep enough for me to gag and, laughing, he face fucked me for several minutes, as he held my head stationary by cupping my cheeks on either side with his big hands and stroking them with his thumbs. As he face fucked me he whispered in what should have been a soothing tone, but wasn't, all the things we wanted to do to my body.

He didn't come, though. For that—his first of two ejaculations, with me coming twice as often—he came around to below me again, released my ankles, hooked my legs on his hips, slid his cock under my balls and stroked between my thighs and under my balls, stroking my cock with his hand, and timing our release so that we came together. Long before we ejaculated, my legs turned to trembling putty, cramping up, the right one supported against his waist under his arm, and the left one just falling away to the floor.

When he'd brought us both to release, he left me there, bent backward and trussed to the apparatus as he went back to Barrington to recharge and to discuss their deal for a gym equipment order.

He wasn't finished with me, though—not by a long shot. With Barrington's help, he released me from the apparatus only to hang me from the rings again, this time my hands and wrists bound to the rings so that I couldn't escape them.

Barrington brought out a multithonged leather hand whip and went back to sitting, watching, licking his lips, and stroking his cock, as Crowley whipped me. He didn't lash me hard enough make me unconscious, but hard enough for it to sting, raise welts, and bring out a trickle of blood on my back, buttocks, thighs, belly, and chest, as I twisted in the wind and groaned, moaned, and, occasionally cried out.

I also, embarrassingly, got very hard, as did Crowley, and as closely as I could see, Barrington. Crowley stopped from time to time to run his fingers over the welts, bounce my shaft with a flick of the whip handle, frot our cocks together, nibble on my nipples, and kiss my body all over. I was just hanging there, moaning, when he dropped the whip, stood behind me, and started running the underside of his cock up and down between my buttocks cheeks, rubbing again and again across my hole.

For the first time during my association with Barrington and his fetish, I was feeling the sensations of wanting a man inside me. I had no more cum to give, which caused my attention to go to my rippling, clutching channel walls. They wanted to be filled, possessed by a throbbing cock. I was drained but not fulfilled.

I had been fucked anally before. But I hadn't felt the aching desire for it before during one of these "everything but" sessions. My hole puckered and grabbed at his cock as it rubbed up and down, between my buttocks cheeks, pressed together by his hands gripping them on the side and raising and lowering my pelvis in countermotion to his stroking cock. I felt my channel opening, wanting him, even as thick as he was.

I murmured something.

"What was that?" he asked in a low voice.

"Please, please."

"Please what?"

"Please. Put it in me. Fuck me."

He laughed and slapped my buttocks on each side, but I could feel his bulb pause at my hole. My sphincter muscle convulsed, trying to reach out and grab the cock head and pull it inside.

"Please," I whimpered. He had reached around and fisted my cock and was stroking it.

"Come for me again and we'll see," he whispered in my ear.

With effort I gave him a weak ejaculation. I'd already come too much in the evening. My balls ached dreadfully from the milking.

He came then too—but not inside my channel. He slid his cock up my crack and came on the small of my back.

He put his mouth to my ear and whispered a few sentences. I was still moaning, both from the low-level pain I felt from what I'd been put through and from the incompleteness, for me, of the sex. I wanted a cock inside me, churning. I wanted everything. Not everything but.

The two men disappeared. Only Barrington came back.

"Where is he?" I asked, almost whining. I still had hopes he would finish me. I knew Barrington wouldn't do that for me.

"He's gone. I put him in the carriage to return to the hotel. It will come back for us and I'll drive you home. Are the welts too painful? Here I have some salve."

He released me and sat me down on a bench and gently dressed the welts with the salve. They stopped hurting almost immediately. "You did very well," Barrington said as he worked. "We have a big contract for equipment and a promise of more orders. He wants you to deliver the equipment to New York when it's ready. Will you do that? He will, of course, use you again then."

"Yes, of course," I murmured. "You're the boss I'll do whatever you want" . . . even though, I wanted to add, I want more than this now. I wanted it all.

Barrington was babbling on as I was assessing what Crowley had whispered in my ear before leaving me. "I want more too," he had whispered. "Come to work for me in New York. I'll pay you more than Barrington does. I'll give you a higher position. I'll take care of you better. And I'll give you everything. You want me to fuck your ass? Come work for me in New York."

Could I trust him? Would he give me what I wanted or just continue to take what he wanted and leave me unfulfilled? Could I go beyond "everything but" with Barrington? Crowley was thicker and longer—and his cruelty took me to new heights of arousal. But could I trust him to take care of me? It was something I needed to think about.