Troy Tamed Ch. 04: Ready, Willing

As I watched, Estaban came into view from the foliage surrounding the bench. He too was naked. I watched Gehler lift Miguel off his cock and hand him up to Estaban. Miguel hooked his knees on Estaban's hips, Estaban gripped his buttocks and penetrated Miguel with his cock, as Miguel arched his torso back to where his head was resting on Gehler's shoulder. One of Gehler's hand supported Miguel's back in the center of his shoulder blades and the other one went down to cover the root of Estaban's pumping cock inside Miguel, with Gehler's fingers going to squeezing and manipulating Estaban's balls. Miguel turned his face toward Gehler's and they entered into a deep kiss.

I gave a little cry, having no idea if they heard me—and if they did, it didn't interrupt the rhythm of the fuck one iota, and fled back to my room. And, I'm ashamed to say, I lay, writhing on my bed, masturbating myself to climax, thinking of that nipple ring.

If the men tried anything like that with me, I would leave immediately, I told myself. I would swim away from the island if I could find no gate in the stone wall on the land side. I would not be used the way that Gehler had used both Miguel and Jolo. Yes, I admitted to myself. I knew in my mind that the small figure Klaus had fucked in the lounge on the previous night had been the houseboy, Jolo.

I couldn't get the vision of both Gehler and Estaban working Miguel that way out of my mind, and, increasingly, I had to admit that I wouldn't swim away from that if they did the same with me. I would welcome it.

Another week passed by, and, although I heard Jolo being taken in Gehler's room on occasion at night, Gehler had made no move to take me. As the week wore on, I became obsessed with why that was. I was better looking, better formed than either Jolo or Miguel. I wondered why Gehler had made no move on me. What was wrong with me? It all seemed so peculiar, especially since, after working the incident in the garden over and over in my mind, I had come to the conclusion that Gehler had wanted me to see what I saw. He had suggested I take that stroll in the park; he had said he would be napping, which he obviously wasn't doing.

And in the nights, especially on those nights I could clearly hear Gehler having his way with Jolo—or maybe Miguel—in the room adjacent, I found I couldn't sleep—that I couldn't calm down enough to sleep until I had exhausted my mind and my body. I took to masturbating to the sounds of the sex in the adjacent room. I had always masturbated to release sexual tension, of course. I just had not experienced sexual tension every night before now. And when my mind was drifting off—and even in my sleep—I conjured up the spectacle of Gehler and Estaban fucking Miguel in the garden. And, oddly, I focused on that silver nipple ring, suggesting deeper, darker aspects to Gehler. Thoughts in this direction were disturbing. But increasingly they were arousing and compelling as well.

I found that during the day, as I was taking dictation from Gehler, I would look up at him. And I would see him undressed, fucking Miguel in the garden or Jolo in his bed or on the floor right where I was sitting. And I would go hard. Toward the end of the week, I was thinking of Gehler fucking me in the place of Miguel or Jolo. I resisted the image as long as I could, but slowly and surely I gave in to my arousal. And all of this paralleled the transition from fear that Gehler would make a move on me to questioning why and experiencing rising confusion and ire that he had not.

I was thus in a state of high anxiety and arousal on the night that I found Gehler taking one of the Spanish seamen from his yacht.

Once again it was something that awakened me in the middle of the night. The cries were loud and they signaled pain—but they also were steeped in passion. And I knew enough Spanish to know that whoever was screaming out was begging for more.

The sounds were coming from the center courtyard side of the bedroom wing this time. I took up my shorts and pulled them up my legs and over my hips and padded out on bare feet, to the balcony across the hall above the courtyard. Light was streaming into the courtyard, and I was surprised to see that it was coming from the now-unshuttered windows into the courtyard from what had been the closed room on the ground floor of the east wing.

I moved silently down the stairs in a corner opposite to this room and then glided stealthily through the heavy foliage in the courtyard until I was positioned where I could look into the forbidden room. I nearly fainted at would I saw.

The room was a veritable SM chamber of sex, outfitted with more sexual bondage and torture equipment than I ever knew existed.

The Spaniard was suspended from a beam in the ceiling by restraints that stretched him out and barely enabled him to touch the floor on the balls of his feet. He was naked, glistening with sweat, his cock hard and bent up from his body in an arc. He was swaying and writhing under the hard, but not too hard, lashing a naked Klaus Gehler was giving him on his legs and torso and buttocks with a multithonged leather whip.

Estaban, in leather harness, but otherwise naked, was standing off to the side, watching. He too had a leather scourge in his hand.

Gehler's cock was hard as a rock too and was one of the longest and thickest ones I'd ever seen. And I felt my cock go immediately hard too at seeing that he had a thick Prince Albert ring pierced through the glans of his cock. I hadn't seen that before. It made me shiver.

The Spaniard's chest and arms and thighs and butt cheeks were covered with thin, red welts. And he was crying out for Gehler to fuck him, in mixed Spanish, German, and English, trying to make a connection with the Austrian in some language. And I hadn't been standing there in the shadows for long, trying not to let my shorts fall and stroke my cock, but not succeeding in the effort, when all of my defenses melted away. I shocked myself. I was totally confused and ashamed of myself when Gehler moved to behind the young sailor and thrust his cock up inside his ass, lifting the Spaniard's thighs with his strong hands to give him deeper purchase and started pumping him hard. And I was confused and ashamed because I was wishing that it was me rather than the Spaniard who was being fucked by Gehler.

As I watched, Estaban came around to the front of the young sailor and lifted his thighs, hooked them on his hips, and started working his cock inside the Spaniard below Gehler's already-buried staff.

I turned eventually and fled back to the safety of my room again. And again, as I got to the corner staircase, I saw the bulky German cook, Gerhardt, standing in the shadow of the kitchen door and watching me. And he had a stubby but extraordinarily thick cock pulled out of his pajama bottoms and was stroking it.

Gehler carried on his by-day pretence for three more agonizing days. Letting me smolder in the imagining of him—and maybe Estaban as well—taking me as they'd taken the young sailor, letting all of my defenses melt away into the desire to be writhing under Gehler or between him and Estaban. In the daylight, Gehler continued to be the distinguished, elegant, no-nonsense international financier of late middle age, seemingly focused on his business needs, me just any scribe, not better than any other. Only there to take his dictation and key his correspondence into the computer, print it up, and prepare it for dispatch the next time Estaban took the launch out.

I still felt trapped on the estate, and on the small island, accessible only by a motor launch controlled by Estaban, who was controlled by Klaus Gehler. But it wasn't the physical entrapment that was tearing me apart. It was the sexual need that Gehler and Estaban had aroused in me. Something that went far beyond Stefan's attempts to break down my defenses. My defenses were long gone now. I ached for Gehler or for Estaban—or for both. I fantasized my taking by the two of them, and this fantasizing increased by day until it was all consuming.

Thus, I had no defense, no hesitation, no internal struggle on the night that I heard Gehler softly call my name from beyond the French doors of my room. I rose from the bed, naked, and went to the French doors. He was leaning back on the balcony rail, also naked, hard, magnificently ready for me. He extended his arm toward the open doors into his room, and I slowly padded through the door and over to his massive bed and, trembling almost uncontrollably, lay down on the bed, stretched out, my back to the French doors.

I felt him come down on the bed behind me, stretched full length behind me, close. I could feel his throbbing cock pressing at my back. I felt the coolness of the lubricant and jerked and let out a little cry of pain and surprise as he worked that inside my channel with thick fingers. He was kissing me in the hollow of my neck, and the fingers of his other hand were running through the hair on my head. He palmed my head and turned it to his face and opened my lips with his.

His tongue became more insistent, more possessive, searching deeper in my mouth. I wanted to escape him, but he held me fast. And then I felt his bulb at my entrance and he was pushing in. I instinctively wanted to scream in pain and invasion, and I began to struggle against him, but he was too strong for me. He wouldn't give up possession of my mouth, and I was having trouble breathing. I writhed against him, arching my back. But he had one hand under my chin, pulling my head back toward him, holding me in a locked embrace. His other hand was palming my belly, pulling my channel onto his cock.

The pain was intense, but so was the wanting and the pleasure and relief that it finally was happening. I could distinctly feel the silver cock ring rub against my channel walls as it dug inside me, and I was panting hard, even though he still had possession of my mouth and was making it difficult for me to breathe. I never could imagine that a tongue could get that far into my mouth. Realizing that my writhing wasn't helping, I widened my stance as much as possible, willing my channel to open to him. He was going to plow me regardless now. His long, thick cock continued to invade, to stretch me and move to new depths. Relentlessly.

I knew he was taking his time, waiting for me to adjust. Being as gentle as he could be. I'm sure he knew that I had little experience, that Stefan told him about Coach Jacoby and that he already knew about my one encounter with Estaban. I was so sure he would be sensitive to my needs.

But then his own lust and desire took over. He pulled his tongue out of my mouth, and turned me on my belly, without losing the several inches of purchase he'd gotten inside my canal. He pulled me up on my knees on the bed with that palm on my belly, crouched over my hips, and thrust hard inside me. I yowled and widened my thighs. He then fisted my hair and bowed my shoulders back toward his chest, and went into long, deep stroking into me, continuing doing so long after he had bottomed inside me, and long after my knees had gone out from under me and I had collapsed onto my belly. He was riding my hips hard and relentlessly. And I was making all of the sounds of full-throttled taking that I had heard coming from this room on my first night on the island.

I was whimpering and sobbing when he was done, and he just lifted me up and slung me over his shoulder and returned me to my bed to suffer throughout the rest of the night—and, incongruously, too long for his cock to be buried inside me again.

For three days and night, we maintained the pretense. During the day he was all business, but business with a friendly, fatherly smile. And he was attentive to my every need and solicitous of my opinions. He said nothing about the nights during the day, and neither did I. I said nothing because I was afraid he wouldn't be there inside me in the night if I spoke of it in the day. And each night he visited my bedroom and fucked me, in a different position, but always with an intensity that took my breath away and left me begging for more.

On the fourth night, he lashed my wrists to rings in the headboard of my bed. And when he was finished with me, I was visited, first by Estaban, who fucked me hard, and then by the cook, Gerhardt, who fucked me even harder—no one coming to my aid at my howls of being taken like this.

The next afternoon, Gerhardt bent me over the kitchen table and fucked me again. And in the twilight, Estaban chased me down the pathway, reaching the launch as I did, and pushed me down on my back at the bottom of the boat, roughly forced my thighs apart and sank his knees and his cock between them. By now I didn't care. I was wanton. I wanted the fuck, whether from Klaus or Gerhardt or Estaban, it didn't matter. I wanted a strong dick moving inside me for as long as possible. I had shed the days when I had to pretend not to care, not to want to be fucking with a stud of a man. I wrapped my hand around Estaban's cock, trembling at the feel of the veins popping out on it and helped guide it inside. And I purred and ran my hands along the new welts on his sinewy arms and into the curls of his chest hair while he kissed the insides of my channel with those ropy veins of his cock.

* * * *

Heretofore, it had been the men who had come to me and forced me. I still had that last shred of dignity left—that it was something done to me, not something I sought. Estaban took that last shred of pride and self-denial from me. Once more he appeared, naked, at my open door to the balcony in the middle of the night. I watched his silhouette against the moonlight for some minutes as he leaned against the frame of the door and stroked his cock. I'm sure he could tell from my heavy breathing and slight moaning that I was awake. When he slid from view, I rose from the bed and followed him—just as I had done that night weeks before when Gehler and he had started to work away my defenses. I was convinced that that was what they had been doing. Preparing me. Preparing me for themselves or something else, I didn't know. I just knew that they had been working at my defenses.

I followed the shadowy figure down the stairs from the balcony. He didn't move toward the door into the kitchen, though, as he had done before. He moved into the heavy foliage near the top of the cliff overlooking the slip where the launch was kept. When I reached him, he was on his back in a bed of ferns, holding his erection up from his body.

Neither of us said anything. He looked at me expectantly. I hesitated, knowing somehow that this was the dangerous edge of something. Until now, being fucked had not been my decision or under my control really, even though, increasingly, I had acquiesced in it. I waited for him to rise and grab me, throw me to the ground, and thrust inside me. It's what I wanted, what I ached for. But Estaban wasn't going to do that. He was going to strip the last shred of dignity and claim of self-restraint from me.

"If you want it, you will have to fuck yourself on it," I heard him whispered.

With a whimper, I straddled his body and brought my knees down on either side of his chest. The heels of my hands dug into the loamy soil on either side of his head and we were staring intensely in each other's eyes. My hole hovered over his cock, being held erect and steady in his hand. I waited for him to enter me, but holding his cock erect was all he was going to give me. Slowing I descended my channel on the staff until he was deep inside me.

Again I waited, waited for him to start to stroke me.

"Fuck yourself on it," he growled.

I fucked myself, raising and lowering myself on the cock, as Estaban lay back and held my eyes with his. When it was clear that I was willing to do all of the work, Klaus Gehler, also naked, appeared in front of me, holding his cock out. I took it in my mouth and gave him head, the metal of his Price Albert clicking against my teeth.

After I brought Estaban to an ejaculation, he pushed me unceremoniously off his body and crouched to the side as Gehler lay down on his back in the ferns. I didn't need to be told what I was to do. I rode Gehler's cock in the reverse, my head pointed at his toes.

Estaban had absented himself, as far as I could see, but he appeared again as I was bring Gehler to his ejaculation. He had a naked Jolo in tow.

"You must do it all, go all the way," Gehler said in a low voice. "You will not be totally released until you know how it is to take a man as well as being taken."

I thought of it as a total debauching more than total release, but my defenses were completely gone now. I had no excuses, nor resistance left. Estaban and Gehler held Jolo's legs open while I fucked him. He looked at me with eyes of awe and pleasure in such a way that, by the time I ejaculated, I was well into the fuck. It wasn't as arousing for me as being fucked, but I couldn't deny that when I was finished, I felt total release from any inhibitions I ever had had.

"Gerhardt is waiting for you in the kitchen," Gehler whispered in my ear as he and the other two were preparing to leave me in the fern bed. "You will not be content until you have gone for him as well, rather than him for you."

The big German was in the kitchen just as Gehler had told me. And he obviously knew that this was a conditioning session—a preparation for something—for me. He too made me fuck myself on his cock. He stood with his back to a wall and held me to him with strong hands on my waist, as, with my hands locked behind his neck and my feet planted on the wall beside his waist, I fucked myself on his cock, leveraging off the wall with my feet.

After we were finished—me being completely worn down to the level of being an acknowledged wanton for the cock—Gerhardt delivered me to Gehler's bedroom and laid me down flat on my back beside Gehler on the bed. Gehler turned toward me and rubbed the Prince Albert against my thigh.

"You will be sleeping in my bed tonight," he whispered. "And you will start out in my bed every night. You had best work in long naps during the days, as you will not be getting much sleep at night."

I moaned. "Oh god, the feel of that PA on my skin," I whimpered. "Fuck me. Please fuck me."

And then, raising my leg with one hand and snaking the other arm under my waist and pulling my buttocks up into his lap, he entered me and started to stroke. "Push back on it. Fuck yourself too," he commanded.

With a groan of resignation, I complied.

* * * *

In the following days, I sought out first Jolo, in the laundry room, and then Miguel, in a flower bed, and I showed that I could fuck cries of passion out of a man too. Now, when Estaban or Gerhardt left my bed at night after I had returned there from Klaus, Jolo would creep into it and receive what I had so recently been given.

On the eighth night, Klaus and Estaban introduced me to the room of toys on the ground floor of the east wing—and to shared attention.

After Gehler returned me to my bed, he came down behind me, entered me in a side split, kissed and tongued the thin, red welts on my shoulders, and gently stroked deep inside me. He put his lips close to my ear and said, "Stefan arrives tomorrow. He wants to know if you will let him fuck you now."

I murmured a "Yes, of course," and moaned at the feel of the silver cock ring rubbing against my channel walls deep inside me, never wanting it to leave me.

"Good," he murmured. "All of this preparation has been for him. He wants you to beg him for it."

I moaned at the thought—but I knew now that I would do that, that I would beg Stefan for it.

-FINI-