Discretion is the Better Part… Ch. 02

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In the months since Curtis had started his “employment” with Mama and moved into the rambling old Victorian mansion his life had changed considerably. HE had changed considerably… His hair, always full, and still dark thank goodness, had started growing out. The first time Mama had taken him to her salon to get his hair cut and styled was both hideously embarrassing…and in an odd way, wildly stimulating. Mama had dressed him “special” for the outing in a pearl gray satin bustier. The snug satin held him firmly, while at the same time stimulating him with its rich texture. Regulation pantyhose held “him” in place below wool slacks and a sweater. It was the first time he’d ever appeared in public in “dress” clothes.

Mama had chatted quietly with the attendants for several minutes before bending over him as he sat quietly waiting in the chair. Reaching under the capacious black styling cape, she fondled him to quick arousal while murmuring –

“Mama is going shopping now. If you’re a good little slut maybe Mama will bring you a surprise when she comes back,” her fingernails caressed his sack. “In the meantime you behave yourself and mind the girls!”

It had been an…”interesting” day. The girls had stripped him naked, chattering softly among themselves in their native language – he thought it might be Viet Namese or perhaps Thai. They oohed and aahed appreciatively over the size of his cock, enhanced by the some of the multiple rings and bands he was getting used to wearing. The ridged silver ring worn just below the crown increased the size and swelling of the head itself, while the ridging on the ring provided added stimulus to those on the receiving end of his attentions. Additionally he wore one snug latex band at the base of his cock itself, and another, larger band, around both cock and balls. Once banded he was able to stay erect for long periods of time without cumming, but without danger of totally losing circulation to his genitals. For ‘special events’ other rings would be added that would be tighter and some had special protuberances designed to particularly excite and please a partner.

Being stroked and fondled by so many women, although exciting in itself, was merely the start of his adventures that day. He had been pampered, massaged, oiled and loofahed. Manicure and pedicure along with the style and cut of his hair were next. Finally, after intense discussion and some forceful argument among themselves, he had been led into the back of the salon his robe removed again and told quite firmly to “sit” and “don’t move”. At the end of a sharply painful period of time that had brought tears to his eyes more than once, his glowing pink body was as smoothly hairless as Fleur’s.

Admiring himself afterward in the mirrors, seeing his gleaming enameled nails stroking the ridged purple head of his cock and the baby smooth bag between his legs, he nearly cried in thankfulness. The women all smiled and applauded at his obvious pleasure – then gathering once more they began stroking oil into his freshly waxed skin, seeming to pay special attention to the crack of his ass, his scrotum and rod. He knew he wasn’t imagining their focus when the first tongue tip reached out boldly to rim his anus. Another mouth hotly engulfed his balls, sucking first one, then the other into the woman’s mouth as she tongued them wetly throughout.

Thankfully Mama had returned before their little debauch could gather too much momentum and he nearly cried again at how pleased Mama was with his appearance. She had praised him for cooperating with the suggestions of the women, and praised and generously tipped the young women themselves for their work. Stroking and fondling him from shoulder to asshole she had exclaimed over and over again about how silky and flawless his skin was for ‘a mature man’.

As he began to get dressed again Mama had presented him with the first of many ‘surprises’ he was to receive that day and in the many days to come. The double-ring ‘trailer hitch’ style cock ring was beautifully light-weight, wrought in titanium and he was duly flattered that Mama had thought so highly of him that she had spent so much on what was essentially a sex-toy for him. The ring portion was tightly snug and even with a liberal coating of oil on his prick, took a little effort to settle into place. Once that was done, the women had him bend over a chair, ass in the air and several of them ‘helped’ his Mistress to oil and lubricate his anus and the ball hitch before inserting it in its proper location. The ball portion was somewhat larger than he usually took in a butt plug and he felt a little stretched before it finally popped into place, the neck of the hitch being long enough to allow it to nestle against his prostate providing continual stimulation. The feeling was amazing when he stood and moved around again.

That day they had returned to the house in time for one of ‘The Monsignor’s’ periodic visits, allowing him to meet the erzincan escort man. He didn’t know who the man really was, whether he was a priest in fact or only in fantasy. Whenever he appeared at the house he was wearing a clerical collar and cassock, and Mama had first introduced Curtis to him as ‘Monsignor’. He was an older man with short gray hair and if he wasn’t a real priest Curtis never knew it – in his clerical garb the older man looked the part. He certainly played the part well.

As was apparent from the nature of some of the rooms themselves, illusion and role-playing were major drives in the lives of many of the guests who came to ‘The House’. Mama kept out most of the ‘riffraff’ – those whose goals truly revolved more around pain and injury than around pleasure and its prolongation, or perhaps at times withholding overt pleasure as a means of intensifying the end result. Mama ruled everything and everyone who served The House with a velvet fist and there was nothing that any one of them wouldn’t have done for her. Some, like the lovely Fleur, never left The House and its environs, while others like the driver, some of the gardeners and Curtis himself, came and went at Mama’s discretion. He had his own set of keys now and his truck had it’s own reserved space in the barn-like garage.

Curtis had helped solidify many of the plans and designs for rooms of the house, redesigning a bath in one of the ‘harem’ rooms to appear as if it was a small, community pool built of stone. Shower heads and handheld units were artfully concealed in the faux stonework of the walls, along with growing mosses, hanging plants and vines. Several of the gardeners were promoted to handle ‘in-house plants’ and a number of clandestine ‘rewards’ of various types were meted out among various household members. The bath had proved to be quite a challenge, from providing sufficient light and circulation for growing plants through recessed lighting, a glass-block wall and antique Moroccan ceiling fans – to re-bracing floor joists to ensure sufficient support for the weight of the over-sized tub. Eventually it was accomplished by joining rooms on two levels. The added supports and braces in the cellar were used in a number of interesting designs.

Mama was more than pleased with the final result and had hosted a lively weekend party. The first truly “open” house event Curtis had experienced since moving in. He found himself, at one point, overwhelmed by both the sheer number of people in the house, and by the overwhelming eroticism of everything he was seeing and experiencing. In one harem room upstairs a naked ‘sheik’ was surrounded by half a dozen lovely odalesques in all shapes, sizes and colors. In another lounge a tearful slave, shackled to a wall, her backside already showing a crisscross pattern of red welts, begged for ‘mercy’, although her hips were thrust backwards for the teasing touches of her Mistress’ hand-held vibrator.

The community bath held a bevy of exotic beauties lounging in the water or on the plush benches. At one time his Mistress held court in the room and he’d watched, hard as a rock, while two, and then three other women had stroked her with their soft, manicured hands, drizzling warm scented oils over her skin. Mama had stroked and kissed them in return until it became difficult to tell whose flesh was whose and he had longed to join in, to suckle from Mama’s abundant teats and to nestle between her thighs – licking and sucking until she came against his mouth and face.

Through it all, the Monsignor had stalked like a dark-winged bird of ill omen – impossible to tell what he was thinking or feeling, Curtis only knew that the stern, disapproving man made him extremely uncomfortable.

The house reeked of rut and cum despite scented candles and bowls of of pot pourri scattered through the rooms. Maids in abbreviated French-style uniforms moved from room to room with trays of hot scented towels, clean sheets or refreshments, while ‘butlers’ wearing only leather chaps and hoods greeted guests, took coats and maintained the buffet tables, both providing other services as demanded. Curtis didn’t realize until much later that many of these apparent servants were, in fact, guest subs, either brought by their Dom/mes for the event – or known to Mama in some way and seeking their own Master or Mistress to serve.

Curtis was nervous and anxious – not simply because he had no idea who might or might not show up, whether or not it might be someone from his previous life, but also because he was not used to being around so many people. In many ways he felt quite at a loss how to behave, and his cock, as always with a mind of its own, wouldn’t have altered its proud throbbing stance if he COULD have taught it better manners. The simple fact was, he wasn’t sure, under these circumstances, just what DID constitute good manners, although everyone else seemed to feel quite comfortable in their roles. He still escort erzincan hadn’t been a member of the household long enough to meet all the guests and felt vaguely guilty and humiliated in the tobacco brown and gold, satin and lace teddy and tap pants he wore with the lace-top stockings and low heels. He had not yet mastered wearing higher heels, and despite his growing comfort wearing lingerie ‘at home among family’ it was the fact that so many strangers (at least he fervently hoped they were all strangers) were here today that made him so uneasy.

Additionally, he was ‘free’ today, under no constraint from Mama to withhold his orgasm, he might cum when, how and with whomever he pleased. But in some ways it was like sending a starving man to a banquet – EVERYTHING looked delicious and he had no idea what to sample first.

Looking into some of the other rooms he located Fleur, legs up in the stirrups, while a ‘doctor’ examined her closely – apparently testing her ability to orgasm. Seeing Curtis peering in around the door she winked at him solemnly when the man with her bent to insert a speculum into her dripping cunt. Assured that she was fine and enjoying herself, at least as much as their Mistress was, he moved on. Peeking into the ‘classroom’ he enjoyed watching what appeared to be a pubescent school girl (judging solely by the size of her small breasts, and the hairlessness of her snatch…and her pigtails of course), with panties around her ankles and a rosy-red bottom fresh from spanking, as she sucked her ‘teacher’s’ cock.

Feeling much as though there was no place in the crowded house where he belonged or ‘fit in’ he ducked into the library room. There at least it was quiet, and he could work on his plans for the ornate gazebo with its designs for the sex swing, the free swinging ‘bed’ and several heavily framed ‘trellises’ that would serve to not only screen the interior and its occupants, but would also support the heavy brackets and chains he had planned for restraints. Mama’s birthday was coming up in a few months and he’d been working on the plans in secret for weeks.

Bent over the desk and lost in his work he didn’t hear the door opening quietly behind him. He was startled when the cultured, slightly British sounding voice behind him said –

“I’m sorry Miss, I didn’t realize this room would be occupied…”

As Curtis stood upright and turned, the Monsignor’s face altered swiftly from a look of solicitous apology to one of venomous outrage.

“YOU!” he spat. “You filth! Abomination!”

“Monsignor?” he stammered. “What…”

“You disgust me and you disgust God you Man-Whore!”

The priest’s lean, ascetic face was flushed with his rage, his piercing blue eyes taking in everything, from the carefully styled hair and manicured nails to Curtis’ silky smooth hairlessness and still-straining erection, tenting the satin and lace tap pants. His hands appeared to Curtis to tremble slightly as he began to remove his cincture, doubling it in his hands. Shoving Curtis back, face down and sprawled across the top of the desk he began whipping him mercilessly, alternately cursing him and praying over him.

Curtis didn’t know specifically what had set the old priest off, but the braided cord was not the worst thing he had ever been spanked with. Laying face down he was in a good position to stroke himself against the satin of his lingerie, at least until an excess of religious zeal caused the Monsignor to rip the pants down and away, exposing his buttocks and the titanium ‘hitch’ linking the ball inside him to the coils around his cock. The sight seemed to inflame the priest even further and his arm was tireless as it rose and fell. He beat Curtis indiscriminately, blows landing on his thighs, back, and buttocks.

The repeated blows from the cincture began to have an affect. Curtis could feel his ass and thighs becoming more sensitive, increasing his stimulation and arousal. He pressed forward, rubbing against the desktop, barely stifling his lustful moan. The whipping stopped abruptly, and he barely heard the hoarse whisper behind him –

“You slut! You WHORE! You DARE to use this for your pleasure?”

He heard the man fumbling at his clothes and the sonorous whisper of a zipper, then a sharp pain as the large titanium ball in his ass was abruptly removed.

“Is THIS what you want then, cock-whore?”

Curtis felt the massive head and hot steely shaft of the priest’s cock pressing into him mercilessly. Without benefit of any form of lubrication he felt like he was being torn in half and tears sprang to his eyes as he pleaded –

“No, please, Monsignor, not yet….I’m not ready….please….let me…..”

“Let you what?” the older man demanded.

Half turning Curtis reached behind him, grasping the man’s girth firmly. Looking him directly in the eye at first, he then lowered his gaze to the meat in his hand, before looking back up erzincan escort bayan into the piercing blue eyes again, and licking his lips –

“Let me….please?”

The Monsignor didn’t say a word, but he took a half step back, his eyes narrowing. Curtis took that for assent, standing and moving around to the other side of the desk, never removing his hand from the cleric’s prick. The older man followed him, taking a seat in the upholstered leather executive chair when Curtis nodded toward it. His eyes never left Curtis, as though he was a snake about to strike. Curtis parted the man’s knees, thankful for the roominess of the cassock that allowed him to nestle between his thighs. Licking his lips again he looked at the large, uncut cock, straining toward him. Skinning back the foreskin his mouth began to water at the appearance of the swollen, red head. Engulfing the helmet his tongue swirled around and over it, bathing it with his saliva.

From the corner of his eye he could see the priest’s hands tighten on the arms of the chair and he heard a barely muffled groan, tasting the first salty drops of pre-cum against his lips. Straining his mouth and his abilities to their utmost he bobbed on the cock he held, his hand working the loose skin further down. It was, by far, the biggest prick he’d ever had the pleasure of….pleasing, he thought. His goal not to make the older man cum in his mouth, but simply to coat him with sufficient saliva to hopefully ease his access. As his drool began to cover his fist and even drip into the thickly matted pubic hairs exposed around the man’s groin and balls, Curtis hoped it would be sufficient. His own cock was steel hard with excitement now too and freely dripping pre-cum. Wiping his hand across its tip he gathered as much as possible, reaching back to coat his anus with the slippery substance.

Rising again he bent across the desk, spreading his legs wide and reaching back with both hands to spread his ass cheeks as far apart as possible. With a whisper of cloth and a barely contained hiss of renewed fury at the sight the Monsignor pierced him to the core, driving into him in one hard push, only then pausing a bare half second to allow himself to adapt to the sensation. Even with the benefit of saliva and their now mingled pre-cum Curtis felt like he was being split in two, especially when the cleric began to pound against him in earnest.

The older man’s constantly muttered litany of prayers continued as he hammered into Curtis from behind and Curtis could feel the man’s heavy sack, swinging forward to slap against his thighs and his own scrotum with each thrust forward. His own balls were drawn up tight and hard as golf balls with his excitement now and there was a nearly steady stream of pre-cum oozing from his pee-hole. The priest fell forward heavily, propped now with his hands on either side of Curtis rib cage and he had returned to muttered curses and name calling. Curtis could feel the sweat from the man’s face dripping between his shoulder blades, wetting the satin teddy. He rolled slightly, just far enough to ease one arm below him to stroke the rigid length of his own cock, his hips flexing uncontrollably as the Monsignor continued to drive into him.

The older man paused then –

“You ARE a slut – a cock-whore!”

Standing he pulled his cock free, eliciting a moan of disappointment from Curtis. Reaching down he grabbed Curtis hair and pulled him around, pushing him down on his back on the desk, hips and legs dangling over the edge of the desk.

“Pull up your legs you….filth!” he expostulated, eyes once again narrowed and face flushed with apparent rage.

Curtis obeyed eagerly if it was going to mean the Monsignor was going to fuck him some more.

“Now hold your legs open to me slut….and keep your filthy hands off your….prick!”

Curtis obediently pulled his knees up and back, effectively lifting and spreading his ass as the priest leaned forward, thrusting into him again. Now that his anus seemed to have stretched the sensation was much more pleasurable and the length and thickness of the Monsignor’s shaft reached places inside him no living person had ever explored before. He leaned forward again, his blue eyes locked with Curtis’ own as he began to fuck with a skill no celibate should be able to demonstrate. Thrusting and rotating his hips the fat mushroom head of his cock stroked and massaged Curtis’ prostate without mercy, seeming to know exactly what he was doing and exactly what Curtis was feeling.

Finally, biting his lip to keep from shouting out loud with his pleasure, Curtis felt the boiling spasms as his hot spunk shot out over his own, face, chest and belly. Closing his eyes briefly he felt for a moment that he might never stop cumming, and as he did he felt the shaft inside him swelling as the priest gained his own release. It seemed briefly that he could feel gallons of the man’s jism spurting into his bowels, filling him to overflowing.

The gray-haired Monsignor collapsed onto the floor, face in his hands, weeping and Curtis clambered to his feet, feeling the man’s cum draining from his widely gaping asshole.

“Monsignor?” he began.

“Oh what have I done? What have I done? What have I done?”

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