Not All as It Seems

He got his wish. The men swirling around him sorted themselves out, the fittest and best equipped of them were allowed to close in and kiss him and put their hands on him and to fondle him. And, laying him on his back on the edge of the pool and slipping the Speedo off his legs, with men at either side to grasp his ankles and spread and raise his legs while the lesser men gathered around and watched, a succession of hung, muscular dominators moved between his thighs and mounted, penetrated, and fucked him.

They had maneuvered Dirk to a section of the pool area covered by lights. It was a "show" area and he was going to be the show.

Among those sitting on the shelves around the edges of the pool and watching was the art gallery owner, Ian Douglas, who had been surprised when he had seen Dirk enter the pool, but who was delighted to find the young man here. He wouldn't approach the young man himself here in the pool--he was fit and a good-looking man, but he wasn't among the elite, physically, in this leathermen's club. Since it was understood they were going to use Dirk for a show, only the prime beef present was selected to cover him. But Douglas would get his chance. He was sure of that now.

Dirk saw and recognized Ian Douglas too. He wasn't surprised that this meant the gallery owner went with men--there had been hints of interest from the man that Dirk had understood, with no intent to pursue them--but he was surprised that the influential art gallery owner slummed in gay Turkish baths. At the same time, Dirk understood the nature of the façade that men like Douglas had to build and maintain in this city. He had to do that as well, and it took a toll that drove him to nights of counter excess such as this. He was left to wonder for now, though, whether Douglas was a top or, like him, a submissive.

It was what Dirk came here for--to humble himself and to give himself willingly. To be worshipped and used in entirely a different way than the overachieving life he had ascended to in the fashion and art world. But even this, a gangbang in the pool in the spotlight, with Dirk fully aware this was going to be a gangbang, wasn't the completion of the degradation that Dirk had come out to find tonight--to feed his fetish of being used and punished to balance out the public adulation he'd received the previous day. There had to be more. There had to be pain and cruel domination.

He lay on the edge of the pool, under the lights, with a succession of hung studs feasting on him, in rotation. They spread-eagled him, a man each grasping an ankle and spreading his legs, with two other men doing the same with his wrist. A fifth man was at his head, feeding Dirk his cock, while the sixth one crouched between his spread thighs, fucking him. When the man fucking Dirk had come, the gangbangers moved in rotation. Others in the baths gathered around them, egging them all, seeking and finding partners of their own. Eventually, a seventh man had worked his way underneath Dirk, and there were two cocks churning in the young man's channel.

Only when all of the studs covering him had their fill, Dirk broke away from the men feeding on him in the pool and walked, naked and the water of the pool dripping off his body further into the bowels of the club. He entered a rough passage with cinderblock walls, and peep booths and fuck room opening to the corridor, some of the doors of the rooms shut and the sounds of taking coming from beyond them. He hadn't walked far until he sensed he was being followed. He glanced around. The three leathermen who had assaulted him in the shower room were walking behind him, side by side, taking up the width of the corridor. One of them had a leather strap that he was slapping against the side wall as he walked. The others were carrying restraints and leather leads. All were glowering at Dirk.

Dirk walked faster. The three leathermen matched his pace. Dirk began to run, his bare feet slapping on the concrete floor. The three leathermen ran faster, more heavily and ominously, in their stormtrooper boots. Dirk was panting and had begun to whimper.

They caught up with him in the dark corridor, all three grabbing him, lifting him above them, facing the ceiling, and pulled him into one of the fuck rooms, the walls, ceiling, and floors painted black. The room contained a bed, hooks in the ceiling and on the walls, and a variety of sexual torture equipment. The three leathermen didn't need anything but the hooks high on the opposing walls in the room. They'd brought their own toys. They brought restraints and a leather strap. They were in leather harness, black leather chaps that exposed their full erections, and black combat boots.

Men from the pool had followed them at a more leisurely pace, hoping that there was more to the show. And there was. They moved into the room, standing against the walls, dicks out and in hand, watching Dirk get royally worked over, encouraged by his cries of getting exactly what he wanted.

The three leathermen knew exactly what to do and what Dirk had come for. At the reception cage in the foyer when he checked in, he had marked what servicing he was interested in receiving--just as the three leathermen had signed up for what they wanted to do with a willing bitch.

Dirk was put on his knees in the center of the small room. His wrists were tied off with one end of a leather lead and the other end was tied to the hooks high on the opposing wall. This spread his arms up and out, holding him bound and captive to the men's desires. The men took turns working his back and buttocks with the strap while grasping his hair from the front, arching his head back, and feeding their cocks in his throat.

When the first of the three who would fuck him had laced an arm around his belly and lifted him up, with the other two each grasping and spreadeagling a leg while the first mounted and penetrated him from behind and the deep fuck started, Dirk cried out, "Yes, yes! YES! Oh shittin' fuck YES! Do me. Do me hard!"

While one leatherman fucked him from behind, another appeared in front of him, grasping his raised and spread thighs, rolling his pelvis up, and moving in between Dirk's thigh. Dirk cried out "Oh, Fuck. Oh, Shit. YES, USE ME! I'm your bitch!" as the leatherman forced his cock inside Dirk, sliding along the top of the already-buried cock of the man behind Dirk, and the counterpunching of the double penetration fuck began.

He no longer was alone at the top. He wasn't at the top at all. He was just a young bitch satisfying the lust of three masters lost in their need.

* * * *

Such was the public scene luminosity of Dirk Cameron that on Saturday night at the media opening for his art exhibit, he still was the talk of the town and the King of Manhattan. Light bulbs still went off in his direction incessantly. People still swirled around him, smiling at him, seeking his attention and his smiles, standing as close inside his spotlight as they could. Stacey was there again, as sexy and drunk as she had been the evening before. Only the art gallery owner, Ian Douglas, stood off from the limelight, glowering slightly, but never taking his eyes off Dirk.

No one questioned why Dirk wore sunglasses, in the evening and in the art gallery, or why he winced slightly when someone touched him on the arm or the back. He was the King of Manhattan tonight. And he was beautiful. He was a god of the hour. He could show any idiosyncrasy that he wanted. He could do no wrong. He was the town's most eligible bachelor. Women fluttered around him like moths to the flame.

Toward 11:00, as the crowd thinned, and when Stacey teetered off to go to the ladies' room and track down another flute of champagne, Ian Douglas at last came up to Dirk. In full voice he reported on sales of the artwork. Everything in the exhibition had sold. Dirk was a millionaire on the strength of this one art showing alone. He was the invincible King of Manhattan.

In a lower voice, Douglas said, "You will be staying here with me tonight."

Without hesitation, Dirk said, "Stacey wants to come back to my apartment tonight."

"Ditch her. Here, feel this." He took Dirk's hand, unbuttoned a button on his shirt and moved Dirk's fingers in to where he realized Douglas was wearing a studded harness under his shirt. Dirk shivered in recognition of what this meant. His question of whether Douglas was a leatherman top was answered.

"You are staying here with me. I have an apartment upstairs and a specially outfitted room down in the basement we can use. I will use you hard." The voice was assured. One who was in control. One who was on top in relationship with Dirk.

Suddenly understanding, remembering that Douglas had seen him at the leathermen's club, and programmed to respond to the command of a dominator, Dirk shivered and said, "Whatever you say, sir; whatever you want."

The shiver was one of anticipation and relief, not fear.

Douglas reached down and captured Dirk's balls through the material of his trousers. He squeezed and Dirk gave a low yelp and panted a bit before Douglas released him and they moved back to the party.