Glorious Banishment

Clifton was happy and Luis was happy. I was happy too. Although I didn't think I'd be able to take a steady diet of this for very long.

That evening after a delicious dinner under the gathering stars on the deck, Clifton proposed an outing.

"I feel like young Dominicans tonight. Shall we go down into the town?"

We did so. Clifton obviously knew just where to go—and had done so frequently before. We had a couple of drinks in a bar, but after only the second one, we also had a couple of very young, slender, but supple and pretty-of-face Dominican men willing to come back up the mountain with us in Clifton's old Mercedes sedan.

A good part of the night, we, Clifton and I, watched the two young men fuck each other—in poses Clifton would set, making full use of his master training in the dance. The two sixty-nine sucked and then they took turns fucking each other—happy to move at Clifton's bidding, obviously making more at this than whatever the alternatives were. The pay obviously was good, and they knew that Clifton himself would never lay a hand on them. If they'd gone with one of the Dominican thugs, they might not have ever come back after the experience. Clifton, though, would just sit there and watch, with slitted eyes and a hand working his own cock.

In the early hours of the morning, while Luis was driving the two, exhausted, but happy young men back down into Samana, Clifton and I sat on the deck, bottles of Presidente beer in hand, and watching the dawn struggle to subdue the night. In the afterglow of an arousing and fulfilled evening, I broached what I thought would be a welcome revelation to Clifton.

"You know you are still a legend on Broadway, don't you?" I said.

"That is very pleasant to hear," Clifton answered, although he sounded more like he knew that was a basic truth and his due rather than that he was flattered that he was remembered after all these years in such a volatile profession.

"I haven't the slightest doubt you could snap up an excellent job or two if you were back in New York."

"I certainly would hope so."

"And you could come back now, you know."

This arrested his interest. "How so? How so could I come back to New York now?"

"Jacques is dead. Perhaps you hadn't heard. He had a heart attack early last year—rather a messy deal it was. He was fucking a young college student during a session he was supposed to be teaching and just keeled over dead, with his dick hanging out and all. In any event, he's gone. There's no one to sue you or make trouble for you otherwise in New York now. You could come back. I'm sure they would like to have you back."

"Humph. Of course they would," he said. But I could sense the wheels of assessment starting to roll in his brain.

At that point Luis returned from his driver duties and popped his head out of the door onto the deck.

"Ah, there you are, Luis. I feel a bit of arousal. Could you fuck our young guest, Dale, for me again now please." Spoken so matter-of-factly. Like he was some sort of all-powerful potentate—which in his DR setup perhaps he was.

"I think I'm too tired for that," I said with a laugh. I also stood and put my nearly finished bottle of Presidente on the table and started to move toward the door into the house. "I think I should get some sleep now. As nice as the invitation sounds, though."

"It's not an invitation, Dale. It's the price of the room and board here."

"Mr. Ware?" Luis asked, blocking my way into the house with his bulk.

"Yes, please, a good fuck, Luis. I feel like watching a good fuck."

"No, really, I—"

That's as far as I got, though.

"On the dining room table, if you please, Luis," Clifton said, as he rose from his chair and unzipped his trousers.

Still trying to be polite and struggling only slightly in disbelief, I wasn't that hard for Luis to control. He literally picked me up and carried me into the dining room, where he laid me down on my back. He pulled my shorts and briefs off my legs in one swift move and pulled my T-shirt over my head in the next. His knees were pushing my thighs apart and the heel of one hand in my sternum was pinning me firmly to the table at my chest, while soon—much sooner than I was really prepared for it—his dick was pinning my pelvis to the table as well—driven straight through me and into the wood of the table top, it felt like.

Clifton settled in a dining room chair and sighed and moaned. I initially objected and grunted and groaned, but Luis's cocking was just too good—and there were many fetishes that moved me. Being taken like this, roughly and forcefully was a primary one of mine—and Clifton's fortune, and mine too, I suppose, was knowing this was so. It wasn't long before I didn't care a bit that my vote hadn't been taken, and I was crying out for Luis to dig deeper and to stroke longer—and then faster, faster, faster. And when I shuddered and came, I just laid back, my eyes on Clifton taking his pleasure, as Luis grunted and fucked on . . . and on.

Clifton knew me and my weaknesses too well from earlier days.

I slept almost until noon, but was awakened by Luis having his breakfast—me—in my bed, while Clifton sat nearby and masturbated and watched with slitted eyes.

While we were lunching on the deck, Clifton pointed out that another cruise ship was in.

"After lunch we go down into Samana, yes. I think I know a Lithuanian and a couple of Russians on the crew of that boat who have very nice cocks and who would be happy to let me watch."

I didn't quite know what to say about that, and so I said nothing. Within an hour Clifton and I were in his Mercedes and skidding down the mountain.

"They should have had time to get to the bar by now," he was muttering to himself as he shifted gears. "Yes, we have a very nice bar in Samana—behind another building and a walk up. Only those who like such places even know it's there."

I could very well see how a tourist couldn't have found the place. It was four blocks off the waterfront, when most anything that looked like a half-way prosperous joint was set no more than two blocks in. The bar was approached through a driveway abutted by one building being built but appearing not to have had any work done on it for a couple of years and another building in the process of falling down. There was a concrete building behind them, though, and a wooden staircase going up to a precarious balcony, and I could hear loud music with a heavy calypso beat coming out of the upper story of the building.

I could see what kind of bar it was as soon as we entered. All men, a cloud of blue smoke, beer bottles, both empty and full littering a scattering of small tables, with captains' chairs, sprinkled around the room. A wooden bar running along the long wall facing the entrance.

And rough. Those providing the local service were all young and slender Dominicans—quite like the ones we had picked up in less obvious bars in Samana the night before. As far as clientele, it was obvious a ship was in—but it would have seemed more logical that it was a naval vessel than a cruise ship. The men in here off the cruise ship obviously worked more in the boiler room than the dining room. They were all bulky and big and muscle bound.

It was also obviously a no-holds-barred sort of place. One of the small Dominicans was being fucked by a big black guy on top of a table over in the corner. Three other equally big guys were standing around, watching. A lighter-skinned black guy had his dick out and was working it up, no doubt planning to be next in the Dominican's channel.

"Ah, yes, they're here," Clifton said, as he steamed right into the room and up to the bar. There were three huge Slavic looking guys there just receiving their beers.

"Hello, you three," Clifton said. "I saw the ship was in. You arrived a half hour early."

"Jah, but we were an extra hour getting the platform in place and the tenders down," said one in a broad, jovial voice. "The passengers were pissy about it. We enjoyed it big."

"Speaking of enjoying it big, I'd like you to meet a friend of mine. Dale. He's off yesterday's ship. He'll do you for a beer."

"Ahh. Really. Nice to meet you guys, but—" I said, with a deep gulp, as suddenly three beer bottles were thrust at me. "Clifton and I—" I began again, turning toward Clifton. But he was already gone. He'd drifted over to the table in the corner to watch the Dominican being fucked.

The three burly crew members from the cruise ship gathered close around me and tried out small talk in their various Slavic dialects as their beefy hands patted and prodded me.

Clifton was back at my side then.

"You can fuck him, if you want. As long as I can watch. You Russian guys do doubles don't you? I think I'm in the mood."

They wanted, and although I turned to flee to the door, they were too fast for me. The Lithuanian took me right there and then. He was perched on a barstool, and, between the three of them, they had me stripped and settling down on his beefy cock, facing away from him, in no time. One of the Russians had his face in my crotch and was giving me a blow job.

Clifton sat at a nearby table, cock in hand, and switched his attention between what was going on in the corner, the second black guy now getting his strokes, and what the Lithuanian was doing to me on the bar stool.

I would have objected—if I hadn't been enjoying it.

When the Lithuanian was finished, Clifton gestured to the two Russians, and I suddenly wasn't too sure how much I was going to be enjoying this. One Russian perched on the stool next to the Lithuanian who had me lapped, and pulled out a hard, long, not overly fat cock. While I huffed and puffed and whimpered ineffectually, I was pulled off the Lithuanian's cock and transferred to the Russian's. As I was sliding down his pole, he leaned back, holding me firmly in place by the waist with his giant paws and rotating my hips up. While I was hyperventilating and complaining between gulps, the Lithuanian held one of my legs up and out while the second Russian pushed my other leg wide with his forearm on my inner thigh. His hands cupped and squeezed and spread my butt cheeks, as his cock—thicker than the first Russian's—struggled to push into my channel on top of his mate's.

Clifton was having a great time watching and stroking himself, and I was grunting and groaning and sure I'd be split asunder. But I wasn't. I somehow managed, as Russian one kept his cock rock hard and stiff inside me and Russian two did the stroking with his fatter cock. They were busy exchanging kisses over my shoulder, and I might as well not have been there for anything but providing a tight channel for them to make love to each other in.

Before they were done, Clifton made a request and the two Russians changed our positions to give Clifton a closer look at the action. I was laid on my back on the table next to him and one Russian stood over my head, feeding his cock into my mouth while the other was standing between my legs and holding them spread as he fed his cock into my channel. This was certainly less strain on me.

The black guys from the corner table gangbang started to drift our way later, and I serviced them too. I have no idea how many.

* * * *

Clifton was in seventh heaven as we drove up the mountain. "I'm so glad you came," he said. "I haven't had this much entertainment in months."

"I'm happy for you, Clifton, but I don't think I could survive another day in your paradise here. I think I'll book out on the first flight I can get tomorrow. And will you be coming back to New York now too? Now that it's safe. You can have a great life there."

"Oh, no, dear boy. I have a great life right here. You've seen it. You know I have this fetish. Where else do you think I could be served as well as here? This was a banishment, yes. But it was an ideal retreat for me. A banishment. But a glorious one. Can't you see that?"

Yes, I had to admit. I could see that. But this particular one was more glorious for Clifton and his fetish than it could be for me and my fetishes for any length of time—being well fucked—rough—and manhandled, but only periodically, not constantly.

Clifton didn't prevent me from—almost reluctantly—sucking myself out of his tempting world to return to what commonly was thought as civilization.

But it didn't prevent him, either, from having Luis have me for desert that evening, while he sat there attentively watching, and stroking his cock.