by Syd McGinley
Brin stands up and gives a fair summary of the Rinnie situation. Luke is whispering a rough translation to Rinnie as best he can.
Mike asks Rinnie questions through Luke and then drills Steve. It becomes clear that Rinnie did consent, but didn’t truly know what he was agreeing to do, and that Steve is too rough with Rinnie and does indeed ignore him when says no.
Steve gets pissy and claims not to know his boy was saying no. Then he says that we all ignore ‘no’ on a routine basis.
“Only from boys who know what they said ‘yes’ to in the first place,” I snap. “And agreed to hand over their consent.”
I had talked with Mike earlier and we agreed that barring Steve from the group would be worse for Rinnie. To Steve’s obvious surprise, he is voted in as a new member of the group, but Brin is appointed as Steve’s sponsor and Rinnie’s guardian for the next year. Since Brin is an engineer as well, Rinnie gets him as a tutor and will eventually be his intern, not Steve’s. Rinnie’s face is aglow. I’m not sure if it’s because he does, despite everything, like Steve or if he’s just relieved not to be under the threat of deportation anymore.
When they hear Tommy’s petition the guys hedge about it. They say the foundation is meant to fund other charities’ programs. Despite my better sense, I stand up and argue on his behalf.
“If we can’t help a boy right in front of us, then what’s the point? Tommy’s not physically abused, but he is locked into a lifestyle and a contract he no longer wants. He’s honoring the deal, but he’s not getting ownership in return.”
The guys waffle some more, and I tell them to put their money where their mouths are.
“That’s a bloody nerve, John,” mutters Nick from behind me. “They did fund the damn foundation.”
“Butt out. You don’t know a damn thing about the situation.”
Nick just laughs and saunters away. I hate that superior bastard. He’s pressing all my damn buttons. He’s worse than a rich Dom; he’s so polite about how amateur he thinks the group is.
Ben has presented a compromise: the guys will contact Tommy’s owner and will see what he might agree to modify in the contract. Mike accepts that as a fair answer. I look at Tommy and shrug. I’ve tried.
Tommy is morose through the rest of the evening, and sticks close to me. He says Steve makes him uneasy. I hope Steve understands I voted him in because I want to police him, not because I condone him. I frown. He’s left poor Rinnie sitting on the porch steps again with his leash tied to the railing. I end up smoking my evening cigar sitting on the steps with Rinnie on one side of me, Luke on the other, and Tommy by my feet.
Luke keeps twisting his new bracelets as he gets used to their presence. He’s quietly gleeful about them, but I can tell he’s processing more of his and Brin’s relationship shift now they are on. He’s just grasped that Brin really means that he has to quit being a landscaper. It’s a cruddy situation -- Luke loves his job and Brin likes him working, but Simon has said little red-headed Luke simply can’t be an outdoors worker anymore. His fair skin won’t handle it. Luke’s bracelets are partly a symbol of his shift to non-physical labor. He’s grieving this part of his life even as he trusts Brin to find him a new path.
The boys are murmuring to each other in Spanglish -- turns out Tommy has a smattering too -- and I’ve tuned them out. Nick goes by and makes some smart remark about my plantation porch.
I try to turn my snarl into a smile. He’s my guest, goddammit.
“Will there be fireworks tomorrow, sir?” asks Luke, who has noticed my glare.
“Almost certainly,” I say, watching Nick swagger off.
“In the woods?” asks Tommy, looking puzzled.
“No, boy -- you can see the next township’s display from here really well. I came here for all my Fourths as a kid. We’d turn off all the cabin lights and lie out.”
***
The boys are busy the next day, helping Chris set up the picnic and practicing for their sports day fun. Earlier in the week, I displayed Colby and twink running in their cock ring harness, and since then some of the guys have been training boys to run in pairs, too. It’s evolved into a whole afternoon of boys’ sports and side bets between the guys. If some of them would take ownership as seriously as they do coaching their boys to run in tandem, I’d be a less worried foundation director.
I’ve noticed how good Rinnie is at soccer and Tommy moves well, so I lead them behind the cabin and train them. They look devastating together -- both dark-haired and sultry and with matched gaits. They practice their stride by Rinnie holding Tommy’s braid and Tommy holding Rinnie’s leash. I think I can win with my team even after only an hour of practice.
Ben and Tony are over-confident since their boys were the original pair, but Simon and Bill are loud about how their boys will wipe out the competition. Laurie and Kyle are big mean boys. Luke and quiet little Dexter are looking crushed already. They get bullied a lot by those two. I don’t like to see that -- none of their owners should tolerate it.
They’re already lining up and having their cock rings attached when I announce my late entry.
“A dark horse!” says Nick and places a bet on my team. I smile as a good host should.
Mike cracks a whip as a starter and they dash off around the perimeter of my yard. Rinnie and Tommy are last, but moving smoothly. Kyle and Laurie are in front, but they are hampered by a pair of waggling hard-ons.
“A six-legged race,” remarks Nick, but I refuse to laugh. I’ve had enough of him and his “I’m being a good sport about slumming it” air.
Kyle and Laurie are determined to win and they shove Luke and Dexter when the little ones try to overtake them. It doesn’t help them as they all fall and get tangled in their connector chains. Twink cackles as he and Colby jog around the writhing heap. They are perfectly in synch -- even their pricks wave in unison. Twink’s tattoo and Colby’s brand are in the same ass position, and it adds to the effect. They look sure to win, until Rinnie and Tommy gain ground by hurdling the heap of fallen boys. Dear God, they look beautiful as they fly over them, Tommy’s hair streaming out behind him, and burst into a sprint to pass the blond team at the line.
Rinnie is ecstatic, and Tommy gives him an exuberant hug, and he and Rinnie do a victory lap -- Tommy singing We are the Champions loudly. Damn, he really does have a musical theatre voice. Steve is shaking my hand, and marveling at how I managed to train Rinnie.
“Dude: he’s smart. You know that. And he prefers Rinaldo.”
Steve gives me an angry and embarrassed look. He clearly suspects that I only entered Rinnie to make a point. And he’s right.
The guys are breaking up the tussle that evolved from the fallen boys, and Laurie and Kyle are dragged over to be punished for bad sportsmanship.
Laurie is bitching and moaning -- in fact he has been ever since he didn’t get a commitment mark yesterday. Frankly, I can’t see why Simon would consider giving him one.
“Hold your tongue,” snarls Simon. “I’ve about had it with your behavior so shut up. Just be quiet for one fucking afternoon.”
His burst of temper is unprofessional, but we all empathize. Mike breaks the awkward silence.
“I can arrange for him to have trouble talking for at least today -- and his tongue will be more useful to you once it heals.”
He holds up a tongue barbell and Laurie and Simon both stare. Laurie’s quieted already, and he’s giving Simon a hopeful look. He is a brat, but he really wants some kind of body mod from his owner.
“He’ll give even better blow jobs,” encourages Chris.
Simon laughs. “All right then. You don’t deserve it, brat, but it means you’ll miss the picnic food tonight.”
Laurie nods -- his eyes are sparkling. Chris runs through after care with Simon while Mike preps Laurie. To his chagrin, Luke and Dexter are allowed to get right up close to watch. They giggle when Mike grabs his tongue with the tongs. Simon holds his boy’s hands behind his back while Mike runs t
he needle through. Laurie is crying, but doesn’t struggle. He valiantly sticks his tongue out to show everyone his new jewel, before taking the cup of ice chips Chris offers him.
Kyle is trying to blend in to the background, but his own owner shoves him forward. Bill says he wants no marks on his boy, as he’s not worth it yet -- Kyle goes scarlet with rage and shame -- but he’d like Mike to humiliate his boy since he likes pain too much.
Mike gives an unholy grin, and beckons Luke and Dexter over.
“Here boys -- pick a bondage technique to have your bully displayed in.”
Kyle curses even as Dexter and Luke start excitedly flipping through Mike’s sample book. They chatter and giggle for a bit, and then settle on one. Mike laughs.
“Nice choice, boys. He won’t even feel pretty on display like this.”
He shows Bill quickly to make sure he’s okay with his boy’s punishment.
Kyle is petulant as Mike handcuffs him and ties his ankles together, but he obeys when Mike has him sit on the ground, and put his arms around his knees. He looks disdainful and makes a snotty remark to Luke and Dexter about what a lame choice they made. Did they really think having his assets hidden would upset him that much?
Mike gives a belly rumble of a laugh, and adjusts Kyle’s pose so he can run a rod under Kyle’s knees but over his forearms. Kyle shrieks in outrage as his own limbs form his prison. Mike nods at me, and we pick up one end of the rod each. Kyle’s head and shoulders dip down, and his rump and feet go up. We march once around the fire with Kyle swaying on the rod. Twink wants to swat at him, but I sternly say “He’s not a piñata, Charlie. He’s just ornamental.”
Mike and I carefully set the rod across the sling supports and leave Kyle on display. His feet don’t quite cover his ass, and Mike steals some of Laurie’s ice, and shoves some in Kyle’s hole. “Laurie -- you sit by your partner in crime. Make sure he’s okay. Boys -- picnic time!”
Laurie and Kyle both audibly sob while we get the picnic started. Simon checks on them both after awhile. He gives his boy a pain pill after looking at his swollen tongue, but he leaves them both in their outcast places.
We’ve started the picnic early during daylight, and we’ve time to kill until fireworks start. Mike takes me inside with Chris to teach me his inkless tattoo technique. Chris smiles blissfully as he stretches out.
“I love this, sir. All the flying of tattoos and none of the permanence. I’d be out of empty skin by now.”
I watch as Mike starts the tattoo gun and runs it over Chris’s ass leaving a red puffy trail behind. Chris is already looking dreamy. I admit it’s a neat idea if your sub likes to get tattoos, but I’m not super-impressed. Just a twist on temporary tattoos.
“Wait a second,” says Mike, and makes a second pass of his design.
I’m startled into a “Fuck! That’s...”
The design has bloomed in blood on Chris’ skin. It’s a simple enough Celtic knot, but it’s stunning. Mike leaves the blood there glistening like ruby beads.
“Normally I’d wipe all that away so I could see the ink and keep working, but this is the point of this technique.
Chris is far away, and looks beautiful. I look at his back and ass -- no marks.
“Heals right up,” says Mike cheerfully. “And I get a fresh canvas to design on.”
He hands me the buzzing needles. “Try something on his other cheek. Just a light touch like an ink pen.”
Chris twitches a little when I try.
“Too light,” says Mike “It’ll bother him more like that. Don’t worry -- you can’t make a mistake. I know how they bother you.”
I would glare, but I’m working on drawing an easy shape on Chris’ ass. Chris whimpers a little under the variances in pressure from my novice hand. I tell him how honored I am that he’s agreed to let me do this to him.
He’s spaced enough to be frank: “Sir said he’d only let you draw because I’ve seen your handwriting.”
I’m surprised by his accurate sass into a loud laugh. An actual guffaw to be honest. I look at my artwork: it’s rather like Rob’s little star signature. I touch the matching one on my bicep.
I think I’m ready for Rob’s successor. And I don’t feel sad. I feel horny. Mike and Chris don’t share, so I thank them, and go to find a boy. I still haven’t fucked twink yet, and I promised him I would.
But when I find him, he’s bent over the branding stand taking it up the ass from Nick.
“Okay, John,” I say to myself. “Ben said he was available to all guests. Nick’s only had a few blow jobs this week since most of the guys aren’t sharing. He’s a guest.”
But holy crap: my twink is being fucked on my property. When I wanted his ass. And insult to injury, by a Brit on the Fourth of July.
Oh shit. I said my twink.
At least I didn’t call him my boy or my Charlie.
“Done in a minute, mate,” pants Nick.
I back away, and go to the back porch. The blow job boys have been excused from duty to watch the fireworks. Crap.
Nick comes round the corner leading a still trembling -- and erect -- twink by the wrist.
“Here you go, John. Sorry I took so long. Your turn.”
I can hardly talk, I’m so primaly pissed. Something about sloppy seconds and motherfucking asshole make it out and I take a swing at him.
My hand connects to his jaw with a satisfying thunk. Nick lets go of twink fast, and twink falls over.
“Not in front of the boy,” snarls Nick. “Let’s you and me take this ‘outside’ -- get your ass into the woods.”
I nearly punch him again for ordering me around, but he’s right about the boy part so I stride away and he follows. Twink is fussing, but we both ignore him, and he scrambles off to squeal to Ben, no doubt.
The woods are empty as the fireworks are starting. I stop close to the creek. We’re well away from the cabin and won’t be interrupted.
We don’t waste time -- I land another punch on him, and he smashes me right back. Any pretensions to this being a gentlemanly fistfight soon disappear and we’re grappling on the ground.
He gets me hard in the eye and I swear.
“What’s the matter? Can’t take what you dish out? ”
I break his fucking nose. He yells, rolls away for a moment, and then re-launches himself on me.
I’m not sure how long we’d have kept going, but we finally roll into the creek. It’s bloody freezing, and the shock breaks us apart. We stand, dripping, a few feet apart, and pant at each other.
“You have blood on your face, you savage,” says Nick in a suppressed laugh-tone.
“It’s yours, you dick.”
We keep an eye on each other as we splash creek water on our faces.
The fireworks have begun, and we are illuminated by red, white, and blue bursts. Nick’s laughter bursts out. I make out the word “Boston...” and then I begin laughing, too.
“Tea,” I reply, pointing at him and then waving at the creek.
“Careful,” he growls. “I’ll take limey, but not teabag.”
We keep watching each other as we cautiously move to the bank. We haul ourselves out and sit down to empty our boots of water.
“So what the hell is the problem?” says Nick as he wrings out a sock. “You’ve had your panties in a bunch over me all week.”
“Don’t fucking start it up again.”
Nick laughs. “What, John, afraid I’ll see through you and let your wannabe buddies know you’re not perfect?”
My hand twitches, but I decide to dodge the issue by manning up with an apology for being a crappy host. I hope he’ll think I was just pissed about an unexpected guest. He’s harder to deflect than that, though.
“It’s okay. We all get tired of being on sometimes.”
I’m about to deny it, but I have a sinking feeling. I’d proudly said to Brad that no one expects shit from me that I can’t give. But they do. All the time.
“You get to be human
, John,” says Nick softly. “Believe me. I’ve learned the hard way. It’s not just you that’s ever suffered.”
Fuck. I know about the hard way all right. And I doubt he does. I want to hit him again for implying I’m being self-centered, but I put my head in my hands, and a moment of pure neediness washes over me.
“When does it get to be about us, Nick? What we need? It’s all about the fucking boys and what they need.”
Nick punches my arm lightly. “What do you need, John?”
I pause while a firework crackles overhead. “Fuck if I know, man. A boy of my own, I guess. But I’m so damn tired. And I’m...”
Nick stares at me, silently challenging me to be a real man and tell the truth.