RITUALS

by Kyle Stone

Even in the darkness, I knew the man was naked. Sweat dripped between my shoulder blades. It was scary, standing in total blackness, total silence. Since the door closed behind me, I hadn't moved a muscle. I knew he was there. I was afraid if I did he would get mad at me, maybe send me away. Like last time. He was testing me, checking me out to see if I was worthy. I willed my knees not to shake.

"Take three steps forward."

That voice. The voice on the phone. Coming out of the darkness it sounded even deeper, richer, the words rolling out of that mouth I could only imagine. Was there a beard? Moustache? Would I find out when my tongue rasped over thick facial hair?

Cautiously I moved forward. I felt off balance in the dark and reached out to steady myself, but there was nothing there. I stumbled.

"Stop!"

I caught my breath. "Yes, sir."

Silence.

I blinked, thinking my eyes must eventually adjust and I would be able to make out shapes, shadows, against the surrounding blackness. Every sense strained as I tried to pick up a sound, a smell, anything that would tell me something about this mysterious place I wasn't allowed to see.

This was the second time I had come here, obeying that voice on the phone. One lonely Saturday night I had answered an ad in the local 'alternative' paper. 'Well hung top with years of experience,' it said. 'I give the orders, you obey. Call now!' As I dialled the number, I told myself it was only a gag, something to pass the time. It wouldn't lead anywhere. I even called from a pay phone in case he had one of those gadgets that records the caller's number. I thought I was being so smart. So big city cool. As I combed through the ads, I fantasized about having a big cock in my mouth, sucking and licking and feeling the tiny veins bulge along the quivering shaft. Even talking to someone with a big cock was one step closer to the real thing then I had been for a long time.

When I heard his voice, it was almost like I lost any will of my own. I know it sounds ridiculous, because after all, I'm the one who called him, right? but from the first he was in charge. Completely. He was obviously older. Experienced. He spoke with absolute authority. Maybe that's what I wanted, because I went along with it. I told him all about myself, how I used to do competitive swimming in high school, how I was new in town, came here looking for a job just three weeks ago. He didn't even tell me his name. Just before he rang off, he said he would call in a few days. He told me to give him my number. Like a fool, I did.

Two days later, he called and ordered me to come to him at once. He gave me the address and hung up. Just like that. No talk, no discussion. Jesus! For some reason, I was already hard just thinking about him, hearing that voice like velvet shredded with cut glass. Shit! I almost came in my pants. But when I got to the address he gave me and opened the door, like he told me to, everything was pitch black. I called out. No response. I stepped inside, looking around for a light switch or something. The door slammed shut behind me. I panicked. Even when I heard his voice, I didn't calm down. "What's going down, here?" I shouted. "Turn on the fuckin' lights!" There was silence. Then the lights snapped on and the door opened behind me. I got the hell out of there. Almost at once, I regretted it. When he phoned again, his voice was exactly the same. It had the same effect, too. As I listened, my heart beat so loud I was afraid I'd miss something. He said he was disappointed in me, but he would give me one more chance. I was to do exactly what he said, when he said it. If I did, I wouldn't be sorry.

"Yes, sir," I said, like he told me to.

So here I was. In the dark again. Sweating like a pig, my cock twitching, my stomach doing flip flops. "Where are you?" I said. I thought I heard movement and turned my head.

"Right here."

He sounded closer and I moved forward involuntarily, longing for contact. A hand on my chest stopped me.

"Get undressed," he said. The hand withdrew.

At once I pulled off my t-shirt, unzipped my jeans, kicked off my loafers. For a brief moment, I wondered how I would ever find my clothes again in the dark, but I didn't care. I could smell him, now. Sweat, like he'd been working out, and some kind of spiced oil.

"Please, I want to touch you," I said. "Why can't I see you?"

"All in good time. Hold your hands out in front of you, palms touching."

I did as he said and gasped as a short length of rope was tightened around my wrists. I wondered if he could see in the dark. Goose bumps broke out on my skin.

The dusky voice laughed, the sound teasing and sexy and chilling all at once. It was almost as if he could read my mind. "We can stop now," he said. "Or you trust me. It's up to you."

I waited, trying to steady my breathing. "I trust you."

We moved forward slowly. It sounded like he was wearing some kind of boots. When he stopped, I heard the rattle of a curtain pulled back on a track. The darkness lightened slightly. I could just make out the silhouette of his massive shoulders.

"Two steps down," he said.

I felt the cool edge of the wooden step cautiously with one bare foot. Then the other. I was hardly down the second step when he was off again, pulling me after him like an animal. As we came around a corner, a pale smudge of light struggled through a barred window high up on one wall, showing the muscles on the man's bare back and shoulders. The white bands of a jock strap outlined his hairy ass- cheeks and disappeared into the enticing darkness between his muscular legs.

The room was enormous. As I looked around, curious for details that would fill in bits of the puzzle, all I could make out were great lumps of shadow. Along one wall, it looked as if everything had been piled in a heap and sheathed in black cloth.

He stopped so abruptly I almost bumped into him. "On you knees," he said.

Without hesitation I sank to the floor. When he heard my knees hit the wood, he turned around and flicked on a lamp.

I gasped.

The single light was trained right at his crotch, where the white cotton of the jock tried valiantly to restrain his great cock. I blinked. My throat went dry. I looked down at the floor, ashamed of the hunger I knew was in my eyes.

"Don't turn away," he said. "That's what you came for, kid. Look all you like, but don't touch. You have to earn that privilege."

I squirmed uncomfortably, my eyes riveted to the straining cotton that was not able to completely cover his thick hose. I glanced up at the man's face, but his features were in shadow. I dropped my eyes to the boots. They were black, above the ankle. I could smell the leather. Almost taste it. I felt a tightening in my groin.

He laughed softly. "Look at you," he mocked. "What is that in inches? Two and a half? Three? You call that a cock? More like a peanut I'd say, wouldn't you?"

I swallowed hard.

"Answer me!"

"Yes, sir. It's just a peanut, sir. Not like your ... your awesome instrument."

"You want to suck it? Lick it? Fill your mouth with it?"

My throat ached just hearing the words. I moistened my lips. I was almost drooling for the taste of him, the throb of all that meat thrust into the straining column of my throat.

"Yeah," I whispered.

"And you want to be ploughed with that 'awesome instrument', don't you kid?" he went on softly.

"No, sir!" The very thought of that great tool splitting me open like a ripe melon sent shivers down my spine. The image was so strong, tears of pain sprang to my eyes.

He laughed again and kicked my knees wider apart with the toe of his boot. "You're just a piece of shit," he muttered. He walked around behind me, reached over and untied my hands. He fastened them securely behind my back. I felt totally exposed, defenceless. My cock twitched into life. He muttered something under his breath, walked around me slowly, the heavy tread of his boots ominous in the dimness. He stopped right in front of me. This close I could see the dark swirls of hair curling around the strap of the jock. I could smell the heat from his body. I swayed, feeling the room swing dangerously, all those shadows lunging towards my vulnerable nakedness. The hot touch of his hand cleared my head instantly. His fingers stroked my throat. The broad thumb traced my jaw line, and I swallowed hard. He chuckled and the sound seemed to vibrate through his whole body.

"Shithead," he rumbled. "Your mouth is as naked as your scrawny butt. You want it filled?"

I nodded.

"Speak up, shithead!"

"Yes, sir! Please!"

His fingers hooked over my chin and pulled my mouth open like a hinge. His broad thumb pushed inside, pressing down my tongue, forcing its way back until I gagged. At once I felt his other hand on my throat, massaging with strong stokes up and down, up and down. Another finger joined the thumb in my mouth. My eyes were stretched wide, staring up at him imploringly. But I didn't want him to stop. The taste of his flesh in my mouth was only a hint of future bliss. I knew that. He was making me earn it. Prove that I was man enough for it. God, how I wanted to please!

When he pulled out, I spluttered for a moment. Then he let me rest my forehead against his muscled stomach while I breathed in the smell of him greedily. I turned my head so that my lips slid against his hot flesh. Hesitantly I moved lower, afraid that he would pull away before I reached my goal. But that great cock drew me like a magnet, made me ache with such longing to service it that I lost all caution and lunged, open-mouthed.

One great hand grabbed my hair and pulled me back sharply. I cried out, startled by the pain that acted on my body like a shower of sparks along nerve endings, making me feel so alive!

"I'm in charge here, boy. Say it."

"You're in charge, sir." My voice was more like a strangled cry.

"You want it real bad, don't you, boy?"

I tried to nod, but my head was still pulled back at a painful angle. Tears welled up in my eyes.

"What?"

"Yes, sir."

I was released so abruptly I would have fallen, if he hadn't steadied me. My knees were numb and it was hard to balance without the use of my arms. The man was close in front of me, now. All I had to do was bend my head to be in contact with the object of my adulation. This close I could see the rows of tiny stitches in the cotton, the stretch of the elastic, the slight stain of dampness high and to the right. A whimper escaped my parted lips but I wasn't aware of it as I closed my eyes and opened my mouth against the straining cotton.

The material was soon drenched with my saliva as I sucked and tongued that warm swelling mass underneath it. At last a purplish knob poked above the waist band, the jock no longer able to contain it. A glistening pearl of pre-come oozed from its slit. I pulled it gently into my mouth, my tongue slipping down the shaft under the cotton, feeling every pulsing vein, savoring the sweet salt must of the man. A tremor of excitement ran through me, tempered with anxiety. Could I take him all? Would I choke in my desire to be filled with his meat?

I shifted position, bracing myself automatically for the blissful torment ahead.

"Pull it off," he said.

I paused, not sure what he meant. Reluctantly I released his warm flesh and caught the waistband of the jock carefully in my teeth and tugged downwards. His great swelling member sprang against my face as I strained to pull the jock under his hairy balls. I could feel his hard hands holding my shoulders, keeping me from falling. When the white cotton was tucked out of the way, I stopped for a moment, breathing in the secret places of this man whose face I had never seen clearly, whose name I didn't even know.

I began to shake with the effort at control, the fear that this man would be displeased if I satisfied myself without his permission. He seemed to sense what I was going through and waited, letting me get my balance, while his cock slapped gently against my face.

"Now," he said at last. "Tell me again what you want, cocksucker?"

"I want to suck your dick. Sir," I added hastily.

He pushed me so I was sitting back on my haunches. As he moved, his dark swollen member swung against his hairy thigh. "Open up." His engorged knob slid into my wide open mouth. My lips closed around it hungrily, my tongue stretching out along the underside of the shaft, savoring its taste, its feel.

He stopped for a moment, while I moaned with pleasure, my eyes closed. Then he slapped his big hands on either side of my head and thrust into my face.

My eyes flew open in panic. I felt my whole face go red with the sudden heat. My throat began to close. I am going to gag, I thought. Or pass out. Disgrace myself in front of this wonderful specimen of manhood.

I tried to push him away, desperate for air. For one brief moment he pulled out. As I slouched back on my heels, gasping for breath, he slapped my face. Hard. First one large hand. Then the other. Tears of pain and anger sprang to my eyes and at once I pulled at the rope that tied my hands. If I really wanted to I could get free and strike back.

Then I saw that cock, still swollen, still pointing towards me, and I knew I would endure anything to taste it again. I hung my head. Docile. Chastened.

"Now you'll take it and you'll take it all," he said quietly.

"Yes, sir."

I opened my mouth and watched that dark meat come closer. Then it was inside me, filling my mouth, pushing down my throat, till I thought I would explode. Tears spilled down my reddened cheeks. My jaw ached as I strained to take him all. I was part of him, now, could feel his life pulsing inside me, his sour-sweet juices salty against my tongue. Panic almost took over again as he forced himself further in, his hairy balls hitting my chin.

"Yeah," he grunted. "Take it all, ya shit!" The voice was deeper, rougher. It turned me on even more. I realized my own cock was thrashing about, aching for release.

He began to thrust harder, shorter, his strong hands holding my head in place as he fucked my face furiously. Then, as I gasped and spluttered, he roared out something unintelligible, pulled out and came in a great spurt, all over my face and hair. Thick and creamy, his semen dripped over my chin, into my eyes. I stuck out my tongue and caught what I could, longing to keep the link between us. I looked up, trying to make out the features of the man, but his face was still in shadow.

He laughed.

Feeling that this laughter was directed at me, somehow, I looked down and saw my own cock, trying to reach out to him. He extended his booted foot and casually touched it. That was all I needed. My body spasmed, throwing me off balance. I fell and cried out as I spewed come on the bare wooden floor.

"Clean it up," he said. His voice was cool, with just a hint of amusement.

"Yes, sir." I crawled forward and lay with my chest in my own come, pushing myself along the floor, letting my skin gather up my own juices. To make sure it was all gone, I scooted around and wiped the same area with my bare ass. I lay back on the floor and looked up at him.

He had switched off the lamp and I could scarcely see him. But I heard that voice, that music I will never forget.

"Now go," he said.

"Yes, sir." I struggled to my feet. I could feel him behind me, loosening my bonds, steering me to the entrance hall.

I felt my way up the two steps and heard the curtain pulled back into place.

"Get dressed and go." The voice came out of the blackness. "Don't come back without an invitation. When I want you, I'll call. You understand?"

"Yes, sir." I began to feel around for my clothes, found them, pulled them on. My body was damp and sticky with sex. I wondered what my face looked like, red from tears, shiny with come. I wiped myself with my t-shirt and decided that would have to do. I didn't care anyway. I felt as if I had been on a journey to a some exotic far away country. A journey I already longed to make again.

I went outside and took a cab home. I knew I couldn't face the jostle of the subway so soon. I still didn't know my master's name or even what his face looked like. I wouldn't recognize him if I met him in the street. I felt a deep sense of loss, then, a desolation so complete I almost burst into tears. I knew the address, but I also knew I would never risk going back without permission.

I shivered as I payed the cab and went inside my apartment. I took off my t-shirt and buried my face in it. I would wait by the phone, night after night, weeks if I had to, months if that was what he wanted. I knew he would call. He hadn't finished with me. He had only started.

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