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   This file contains sexually EXPLICIT material depicting sex between an
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   story codes: (Mb bb snuff anal oral ped) style: contemporary

   THE DUNGEON MASTER by Rafe Morgan (Copyright 2012)

   BOOK III: THE MAZE (Scott and Rabbit)

   Chapter 14

   The room was dark except for a sliver of light shining from beneath the
connecting door to the bathroom.  Beyond that there was still the sound of
rushing shower water but no other sounds.  Mike lay huddled in a fetal
position on the bed, his small naked body a dim pale blur.  I reached down,
scooped him up and tossed him over my shoulder.

   "No," he pleaded in a small voice.  "No.  Please Joe.  I don't wanna..."

   Ignoring this, I carried the boy upstairs, took him through my bedroom
into the bathroom, placed him on his feet and closed the door.

   "No," he peeped again, backing away as I undressed, looking up with a
terrified expression.  Still without a word I started the shower, got the
temperature adjusted and then picked up the frightened boy, carrying him
into the gushing water where he clung to me, trembling.

   "You did really, really good today," I assured him, unwinding his arms
and legs from me so I could stand him up.  "I was so very proud of you."

   He stared at me wide-eyed, and after I had worked some fragrant coconut
scented soap into a lather on his silky skin he relaxed and stopped
trembling.

   "You were just terrific, I was so proud..." Over and over I crooned
soothing words to him until the fear left his eyes.  His small
well-developed body leaned on mine as my hands slid all over him caressing
and stroking.

   "I'm gonna clean you real good up here," I told him, brushing my fingers
on his butt crease.  "It's okay.  It's just the same as putting your vest
probe up there, except it's soap.  All you have to do is relax.  I won't
hurt you..."

   Mike slipped an arm around my waist and allowed his rounded cheeks to be
spread, leaning against me while my soapy fingertip rubbed the pucker of
his clenched anus.  When I pressed, his arms tightened on me and the
penetration of my finger made him flinch, but he still made no protest,
even when I advanced past my first knuckle, pushing up into him.

   "Very good, Tiger," I assured him.  "That's very good.  I'll get you all
clean in there.  I won't hurt you..."

   The pad of my fingertip probed his hot sweetness, discovering the firm
swell of his tiny nub.  The little boy quivered as I rubbed back and forth
over it.  He shifted position, moving his legs further apart and then
turned to hug my waist with both arms.  As I continued to stimulate him he
writhed, sliding the smooth silky skin of his compact body on my own.  I
felt the jut of a small stiffening rigidity on my thigh.  My free hand
moved over Mike, stroking and caressing until a quiver passed through him
that made his taut lean hips buck.

   After withdrawing my finger I leaned down to whisper, "Feel nice?"

   The boy nodded and after caressing him a few more times I opened a
bottle of coconut scented shampoo to lather his silky blonde hair.  The
rich sudsy foam was firm enough to mold like cake icing and I sculpted it
into fantastic forms, giving Mike ringlets and then tiny horns so that he
looked like a young faun.  The boy stared straight ahead while I did this,
neither resisting nor joining in the game.  Finally, after rinsing him off,
I carried him out of the shower.

   The same warm fluffy towel dried us both.  Mike, passive as a doll,
stood unmoving while I combed and brushed his hair, careful of the tangles
in the fine strands.  With palmfuls of creamy coconut lotion I anointed his
firm young body until the skin glistened with oily slickness.  Then I
carried the boy into my dim room, drew down the covers of the bed and laid
him on the sheets.

   "Don't be scared," I whispered, stretching out next to him.  But the boy
was trembling again; I could feel the tremors when I pulled him close.  In
the faint glow coming from a nightlight in the bathroom, I could see his
eyes glittering as he stared straight ahead.

   "It's all right," I told him over and over again, stroking and petting
the taut glossy firmness of his butt and back.  "It's all right, Tiger.  I
won't hurt you.  It's all right.  Everything's all right..."

   Holding the boy with one arm around him I brushed the fingers of my
other hand back and forth across the breadth of his taut shoulders.  Mike
was at least two years younger than Scott, smaller and not as well defined,
but his body had the same compact leanness and he would develop a similar
sculpted beauty if he survived.

   "It's okay, Mike," I assured him again and again.  "Nothing's gonna hurt
you.  I won't let it.  I only want you to feel nice things, Tiger. 
Everything's all right..."

   Bit by bit he calmed down until at last he was cuddled against me,
smooth young silky warmth pressed against my skin.  With my palm I made
slow caressing circles on his lithe shoulders, tapering back, and glossy
curved buttocks, gliding my fingertips on him, stroking along his crease.
The boy gave a tiny soft giggle as I tickled him with a feathery touch and
when he rolled to his back, arching a little, I brushed my fingertips over
the hard points of his nipples making him giggle some more.

   "Nice?" I whispered.

   "Uh-huh..." The boy's eyes turned to mine as I leaned down to kiss the
tip of his nose, drawing forth another breathless giggle.  When I moved
downward, Mike stretched his arms back as if offering himself and I heard a
quick intake of breath, "Uhh..." as I licked across his nipples.  When the
tip of my tongue kept licking further, brushing into his belly button, the
boy stretched back even more, squirming to lift his taut hips as I held
them with both hands, swirling with my tongue.

   From his smooth hairless groin Mike's little stiffly jutted up in
quivering rigidity, its slim shaft like a small branch in my mouth when I
slid my lips around it.  My tongue curled around the shiny skin that was
stretched thin as cellophane over the hardness.  I licked upward, tasting
the warm slipperiness that oozed from the tip as Mike arched and writhed,
stretching arms and head back while parting his slender legs as far as he
could.

   "Oh..." He breathed, panting.  "Uh...  Uhhh..."

   I continued to suck until the boy's hips thrust, his firm little body
arching and quivering as two sudden throbs jerked him.  Then, pulling his
knees up, I licked down onto his clenched anus, forcing my tongue tip
through the tight ring, wiggling it deep into his opening.  Mike twisted
and writhed, breaths coming in quick little gasps, "Uh...  Uh...  Uh... 
Uh..." After a few moments he reached to grab his knees, pulling them to
either side of his chest as he strained to open himself.  Then his head
pulled back and with quiver after quiver his taut little body shook to a
series of pulsing contractions shooting through him in waves.

   While he was still quivering, arched taut as a drawn bow, I withdrew my
tongue and reached to get the tube of KY from the bedside table.  Plumping
up some pillows as a backrest I settled against them, drew Mike up on top
of me so that we faced each other with the boy's head resting on my chest,
and arranged his legs so they sprawled apart to either side of my hips. 
Squirting a glop of lubricant onto the fingers of my right hand I reached
down to push between the firm twin globes of Mike's little butt cheeks,
searching with my fingertips until I found his opening.  Then I pushed into
the ring.

   The boy squirmed when my forefinger slid into him.  I pressed on his
tiny nub, massaging it, and he put both arms around me hugging tight to
writhe and bear down, opening himself to the insertion of a second finger
and more erotic pressure on his little swelling.

   "Uh...  Uh..." Moaning, he squirmed to rub his rigid throbbing boner
against my stomach.  "Uhhhhhh..."

   Contractions rippled in his loins.  I felt a dribble of slippery
moistness ooze from his tip onto my skin.  The boy's arms tightened on me
and he strained to draw his knees up, parting his slim thighs as far as he
could.

   "Like this," I whispered, withdrawing my fingers and replacing their
thrusting presence with the blunt tip of my engorged rod.  Mike wiggled,
squirmed, and pushed himself down on it.  I felt him shudder as his ring
stretched.

   "Slow," I cautioned, holding my shaft steady for him.  "Go slow..."

   "Uh...  Uhhhhhhhhh..."

   Mike's sharp little features twisted in a grimace.  The head of my rod
slide inward....  Suddenly the boy's head pulled back.  Eyes squeezed tight
shut, mouth open in an agonized grimace of effort he squirmed again and the
constriction squeezing my tip loosened.  Something gave.  With a popping
sensation I entered the boy, penetrating him, my shaft tip suddenly
engulfed by his moist heat.  Mike cried out...  and an instant later his
sphincter closed around the neck of my shaft, so tight it was painful.  I
held the boy, letting him writhe and squirm, the movements forcing me
deeper, impaling him on my thrusting hardness.

   "Oooo...  Ooooooooooooooooo..."

   Quivering, writhing, Mike clung to me, eyes closed, his head pulled
back, small body arched in tension as he lost control and slid onto the
full-length of my pole.  I held him in place, stroking the taut little
muscular body while he shuddered, gasping.  A spasm shook him...  and then
suddenly he was squirming, driving himself down on me, grinding the glossy
curves of his butt into my groin as he sought to move my tip deep within
his loins.  I felt the hard jut of his little boner on my stomach, slick
warmth from it dribbling over my skin as the boy jerked in a convulsive
buck, small taut body heaving as he was hit by wave after wave of ecstatic
sensation radiating from his center.

   When the bucking stopped Mike collapsed against me, limp and quivering,
his hole gaping, my shaft loose within him.  I could move without
resistance, and I lifted my hips, grinding a little as I held him locked
against my stomach and chest.  The small boy moaned, panted...  his tousled
head pulled back, white-blonde hair gleaming in the dim light shining in
from the partially opened the bathroom door.  Grimacing, with awkward
little efforts, he began to slide on me using his drawn up legs to lift
himself on my thrusting rod, then settling back into my groin, squirming to
drive me in deep.  The boy's eyes were closed and his face held an
expression of rapt concentration as he did this, the muscles of his taut
silky little body tensing and relaxing, the rhythm of it building, until he
was bouncing up and down in a frenzy.  When a sudden spasm hit, twisting
the boy in passion, he drove down onto me, then leaned back against my
encircling arms, struggling to arch himself.  Throb after throb rippled in
his loins...  he was jerking again, his small body thrusting as more
slippery warmth dribbled onto my belly from his quivering little rod.

   Again and again Mike drove himself into convulsive spasms, squirming and
jamming himself down on me, until the sliding of his lean silky body on my
own, the rippling massage of my hard shaft by the muscles of his tight
chute, brought me to my own climax.  I held off as long as I could,
squeezing to contain while the pressure mounted, but a final frenzied
effort by the boy took me past the edge.  From my tip buried deep within
him I felt a spurt of slippery warmth.  Then the first contraction bucked
my hips, lifting them to drive my full-length into Mike's guts, where I
held myself with the boy locked in my hugging grasp.  With heave after
heave I exploded into him, gush after gush of hot semen spurting from my
tip.  I was still bucking, jerking in dry spastic pumping, as the boy
writhed against me, his small form twisting in abandon, wanting more and
more and more.

   I collapsed back against the pillows, hugging Mike's limp quivering form
and for a long time we lay there, arms locked around each other, the boy's
cheek resting on my chest as we panted and caught our breaths.  Bit by bit
I softened within him, feeling as I did so the slippery wet ooze of my
semen from his gaping anus onto my groin.  Eventually Mike�s natural
muscle tone pushed me out and he moaned, squirming against me as if trying
to weld our two bodies together.

   "It's all right," I whispered, kissing the top of his head.  "It's all
right..."

   Holding the boy with one arm I rolled far enough to grab one of the
towels we had brought from the bathroom and used it to clean up.  Then I
slid down in the bed and let the boy cuddle, kissing his hair, his eyes,
his nose and finally his lips; tasting all his sweetness while I caressed
and petted his smooth firm little body.

   To my surprise Mike began crying, the tears glittering on his cheeks,
running down faster than I could kiss them away.  While I stroked and
squeezed the hard curve of his butt a sob shook him.

   "What is it, Tiger?" I asked, trying to comfort him.  "What's wrong? 
Does it hurt?"

   Mike shook his head and I kissed him again, rubbing my hand up and down
the silky taper of his taut back.  "Tell me," I whispered, "Tell me, Mike.
What is it?"

   "Don't tell Eddie," he blubbered, squeezing his arms around my chest to
hug.  "Please don't, Joe.  Don't tell him."

   "Of course I won't." My hand drifted along his silky flank, caressing
the hollow of his tiny delicate waist and stroking the gloss of his hip. 
"I would never do that, Mike.  Never.  I never talk about what any of you
boys do.  You must know that by now.  What you and I do together is only
for us - only for you.  I would never say anything about it.  Never..."

   Whispering to him, stroking him, I waited for the boy to calm down,
which he did after a time, nestling against me and clutching with his arms
when he was petted.

   "Feel better?" I asked, once his heartbeat had slowed.  He nodded.

   "I got something for you."

   With gentleness I disentangled myself from the boy's embrace and went to
open a drawer in the bureau by the wall.  Returning, I sat down on the edge
of the bed and held up an ankle chain, the tiny gold links glimmering in
the room's dim light.

   But Mike, who had set up to watch me, bit his lower lip and shook his
head.  "No..."

   I nodded in understanding.  "It's okay.  You know how all the others
wear there's on the left ankle?  You know what that means, don't you?"

   "Uh-huh." When Mike nodded I could still see tear streaks on his face.

   "We'll put yours on the right.  You know what the difference is."
Reaching for the boy's right ankle I pulled it toward me and Mike allowed
the chain to be clasped in place.  I patted the boy's dainty knee.  "Now
you can tell them whatever you like, and you won't be the only one not to
have something nice to wear."

   The boy looked up with a grateful smile and then came into my arms as we
lay back down.

   "You're the best, Tiger," I whispered to him, my fingers brushing down
the hollow of his back, onto the gloss of his butt curve.  "You're my kid.
The best in the world..."

   With this Mike's eyes closed and once I was sure he was asleep I dozed
off as well, neither of us waking until early the next morning when the boy
tugged at me wanting to be taken again, which I did for him, but only using
my fingers so as not to aggravate the soreness that I knew he was
experiencing despite his denial.

   "Next time," I assured him once he had been brought to shuddering spasm
and was clinging to me, firm little body pressed to my own.  "Next time you
can do it that other way all you want," I promised.

   Mike allowed himself to be kissed, opening his mouth to admit my tongue
and then, afterwards, stretched out on his back, arms extended behind his
head.  His taut lean form glowed in the dawn light coming through the
window, silky and lovely.  I caressed him with slow circling strokes of my
palm and the boy squeezed his butt, lifting his hips to harden the jut of
his slim little boner.  Then he drew his head up to look down and admire
himself.  My hand drifted over the hard narrow sheath of his tummy.  After
brushing my fingertips on the brim of his small pelvis, I took hold of his
straining shaft and rubbed the stretched shiny surface with a slow pumping
movement.

   Mike's eyes, aglow with sensual excitement, turned to mine.

   "Does Eddie like do it good as me?"

   "No," I lied, smiling at him.  "You're the best, kid."

   This pleased him.  He squirmed, straining to harden himself even more,
then declared with pride, "I can like take all of it in me."

   "You sure can..." I kept rubbing him and the boy quivered, arching and
stretching.  Suddenly, he grimaced, bit his lower lip...  his muscular
little hips writhed.  I pumped faster and the boy arched up, tense as a
drawn bow, holding himself in quivering rigidity.  A throbbing pulsed
beneath my stroking fingers...  Mike�s rock hard shaft jerked...  then
his hips were bucking...

   "Uhhh..." He moaned.  "Uh...  Uh...  Uh...  Uh..."

   When the contractions stopped, Mike stretched out once more on the bed,
panting and staring upward as I caressed his silky hips and flank.  As his
breathing slowed I leaned forward to whisper, "Feel good?"

   "Uh-huh." His eyes came to mind.  "It feels like somethin's gonna like
come out, but nothin' does."

   "That's jizz," I explained.  "Your balls are tryin' to make it, but
they're not quite ready yet.  They will be pretty soon.  Give it a little
time."

   Mike shifted, stretched, and then squeezed to harden himself again. 
"Can like Eddie do it?"

   "Not yet," I lied.

   "Can the other kids?" The boy's gaze flicked to me again.

   I shook my head.  "Nope.  Not even close."

   At this answer, Mike squirmed once more and lifted his head to regard
the smooth silky form of his stretched out body with a smug expression.  "I
gonna do it soon, right Joe?"

   "Yup," I said, nodding.  "Real soon.  I can tell."

   Squeezing his butt and arching a little Mike strained to harden himself
all he could, his gaze fixed on the tip of his rigid little shaft, which
was quivering to the excited beats of his pulse.  "It's 'cause I ain't a
fag, right Joe?  Those other kids is fags.  Eddie says he ain't, but he
like is.  That's it, ain't it Joe?"

   "That's it." I circled my palm on the taut sheath of Mike's narrow
stomach.  The smooth skin there was stretched tight like a glossy layer of
cellophane over the underlying muscle.  With caressing strokes I let my
hand drift to the boy's hairless groin and took his jutting little boner in
thumb and forefinger, pumping the rigid shaft.  "You're a stud, Mike," I
assured the boy.  "You're awesome.  That stuff we do, that's just between
you and me, nobody else.  It's to help you get strong so you can make stuff
come out."

   "Uh-huh!" Mike had lifted himself up onto his elbows to watch what I was
doing.  His eyes were wide with erotic excitement.  He spread his legs to
give my hand more room to move on him.  "They like can't do that stuff, can
they Joe?  They like can't take your whole thing like me."

   "Nope." I shook my head, rubbing the boy faster.  "Not even close.  Not
even a little bit.  They're too scared."

   Mike squirmed as a throb shot through him.  I felt a tiny pulse in his
straining shaft.  "I ain't scared," he whispered, high childish voice husky
with passion.  "I ain't never scared...  Ah...  Uhhhhh..."

   Another little spasm took him and the boy fell back against the pillow,
arching and quivering.  I kept my fingers moving on him, using hard quick
firm strokes and he went rigid for several heartbeats, his buttocks
squeezing together.  Then, in sudden quick thrusts, his narrow little hips
bucked again and again, heaving upward in jerk after jerk while
contractions pulsed beneath my fingertips in his stiff bone.  A few gasping
cries escaped the boy as he heaved in passion.  Then with a long quivering
sigh he sank back down on the bed as the convulsive spasm passed.

   "Look," I told him, stroking the silky curve of his hip and reaching
with my other hand to help lift his head.  Mike stared down at his groin
where a sparkling bead of milky fluid was glistening at the tip of his
jutting little rod.  "See," I told him.  With my fingertip I smeared the
wetness across his tiny slit.  "It's starting already.  You're beginning to
make something.  That's from what we're doing.  When you do this stuff with
me it helps get you stronger, see?"

   "Do it more, Joe," Mike begged, grabbing my wrist.  "Right now.  Do it
more.  Like in me.  Like way, way up..."

   "Next time," I promised, bending to kiss his wispy blond hair.  "Next
time you'll be ready for more.  Soon we'll have you stronger."

   Mike's eyes were glittering with excitement.  He lowered his head back
onto the pillow, staring up at me.  "Those other kids like can't do it, can
they Joe?"

   "Nope, not yet." I stroked him.  "You're my little stud, Tiger.  I'm
counting on you to be the best..."

   Mike gave me a solemn nod.  "I'm gonna like take 'em all..."

   "You do that, Tiger," I said, leaning down to kiss him again.  "You do
that.  But keep it a secret between you and me, okay?  Don't say anything
to them."

   "I won't," the boy promised, reaching out to me, offering his lips to be
kissed.

   Later on, after I had made breakfast and Mike had helped me take it
downstairs, I watched the other boys eat and saw the furtive glances they
took at Mike's ankle chain.  I never knew what he told them in explanation,
but whatever it was had the effect of intensifying the rivalries that
already existed among them.  In the workouts and practices of that day, and
for the rest that followed, Mike's sly comments about Todd continued.  Both
he and Rabbit seemed to have an unspoken agreement to combine against the
slender boy in the evening laser tag sessions, while Scott and Eddie
continued in their own informal league against Mike.

   I sat back, enjoying it all, reveling in the luxury of a different boy
every night, each one out to impress me in his own way, vying for my favor.
Rabbit, in particular, seemed desperately anxious to be assured of my
affection, always standing close to me, tugging at my arm or pressing his
lean body against mine and looking up to see if I was paying attention to
him.  In bed with me at night he made it clear that he was willing to do
anything I asked, perform any act; and in the throes of passion, as I
thrust up into him, bringing the boy to spasm after spasm of immature
release, he would cling shuddering against me, moaning and calling my name,
begging always for "More...  More, Joe...  More..." like he could never
have enough.

   Afterwards, as he lay in my arms, staring up at me, never asking in
words pleading for me to say it with his eyes, I would stroke his lean wiry
body and whisper, "You're my kid, Rabbit.  My young champion.  My
gunfighter.  You're the best.  The best in the world�"

   In contrast to him, Todd, my other tall slender boy, remained aloof
during practices, face expressionless, eyes cold as he focused on reaching
the same level of excellence that Scott and Rabbit had achieved.  Lacking
Rabbit's natural wiry toughness he had to push his slim graceful body even
harder to catch up and his concentration was total.  He never smiled,
although his eyes would sometimes come to mine with a flash of pride when I
praised him.  In the nights, when it was his turn to sleep with me, he
never showed by sign or action that he wanted anything; yet the moment I
took him into my arms he gave himself completely and I soon discovered how
eager he was to be taken in the shower, on the floor, or leaning over the
counters -- as well as on the bed.  The boy's passion, once awakened,
seemed insatiable and in his own way he competed just as ruthlessly for my
affection as the others did, clutching against me in hot sweaty ecstasy as
I came into him, but never begging or pleading for anything.

   When he was not with me in the hours of rest between workouts Todd would
spend all his time on combat videogames, playing with focused intensity
head to head against the other boys on the big flat screen, or else
huddling in solitary combat over a handheld Game Boy while the rest watched
a DVD movie.  Only when he was alone with me did Todd ever watch a movie,
and then it was always a dark action adventure; films like 'The Chronicles
of Riddick' or 'The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen.' It was impossible
to tell what he was thinking as he sat leaning against me, staring without
emotion at the TV screen, but I was mindful of what flashed occasionally
from behind his cold hard gaze.  I was careful never to turn my back to
him, or leave him alone with Mike whose sly taunting I knew Todd took note
of, although he pretended to ignore it.

   Scott, during this period, seemed the one closest to Todd.  From time to
time I would see them exchange furtive glances and from hints in the boys'
conversation I gathered that the two of them sometimes disappeared for
hours in the small bedroom.  Nor were they the only ones.  Rabbit and Eddie
paired off alone there, too, and I caught on to the fact that whenever
there was an opportunity both boys showered together as well.

   Scott, when he spent nights with me, remained as lusty as ever, begging
to be taken in every way possible, fascinated by inventing different uses
for his tongue stud.  Again and again he would remind me of the promise
that I would 'do him' when the time came.  As I hugged his firm sculpted
beauty in my arms, trembling at the sensation of his silky perfection
squirming in passion against me, I questioned if I could ever steel myself
to losing him.

   "When we gonna do it for real again, Joe?" he would plead in the
darkness and all I could reply was, "Soon, Tiger.  Soon.  I promise..."

   "I wanna do it now," Scott would tell me.  Taking hold of my quivering
shaft he would rub it with his little fist, then turn onto his back or side
because he wanted me to put it into him again.  "Now, Joe!  Do it now... 
Now...  I wanna..."

   As I entered the boy, taking his silky smoothness into my arms, I could
not tell if the whispered plea was for the hardness I filled him with, or a
desperate longing for the mortal combat he so craved.

   Rabbit, too, kept me in mind of the assurance I had given that this time
we would "do paintball for real."

   "When we gonna do it, Joe," he would ask on his nights alone with me. 
But with him, I was convinced the question came less from a dark longing
for oblivion than a desperate need to impress me.

   "Real soon," I would whisper, giving the same answer I gave to Scott. 
"First we gotta get a few more things done with the others.  Then you can
do it.  And when we do..." I stroked the boy, caressing his lean angular
silkiness.  "When we do, I want you to win for me.  I want you to be the
best..."

   "I will, Joe!" This answer always came as a fierce whisper in the dark
while Rabbit trembled, hugging against me.  "I will!  I swear!"

   One of the projects I intended to complete before scheduling the next
'for real' fight was to photograph the boys as much as possible.  Scott and
Rabbit showed the other three how to pose and they all became adept at it;
including Mike, who after some initial self-consciousness not only accepted
being made up, but came to take pride in the naked images I took of him
either holding his laser gun or else twisted in some provocative position
on the weight bench bound in leather straps.  The boy proved to be
unusually photogenic.  His lithe little body and sharp features were
transformed by the camera into elfin seductiveness that gave his images
haunting appeal.  To heighten this effect I tried using body paint on him
with results that were so good I began applying it every session.  I was
aided in this by Scott and Eddie.  Instead of being jealous at the extra
attention Mike was getting (as Rabbit and Todd were), they spent hours
inventing new paint schemes then helping me apply them.  Both boys had more
artistic ability than I did so I let them do most of the work, and their
spectacular designs turned Mike into a little satyr, a wood sprite, or a
boy hero from a videogame.

   Eddie himself loved posing and once made up, he always insisted on
wearing the makeup all day.  When it was his turn to spend the night with
me he took great delight in being perfumed, petted, then fussed over with
lipstick, eye shadow, rouge and body lotions so that he looked like a
pampered little prince.  Turning from admiring himself in the mirror, he
would come into my arms, panting in his eagerness to be taken.

   My two young gunfighters, Scott and Rabbit, had become with practice
masters of the art of presenting themselves to the camera.  Rabbit's
athletic gangling form, with its coltish awkwardness, produced images of
appealing vulnerability and seductive innocence.  Scott, who had remarkable
ability to pose as if flirting with the camera, used his sculpted body to
create images of boy beauty that were stunning in their impact.

   After watching and imitating them, Todd learned how to pose just as
well, but with different, unique results.  The boy's slender graceful body
photographed as a model of ethereal beauty, and the distant expression of
eyes and face lent an air of unapproachable mystery, as if by some magic my
camera had caught the fleeting presence of some boy god, revealed at that
instant in awe inspiring adolescent beauty.

   Thus for various reasons the picture taking sessions were popular with
the boys and they vied against each other with as much competitiveness as
they showed in everything else.  Just as in the workouts and practice
fights they never wanted to stop, always begging me to "Take just one more
picture, Joe!" When I did insist on ending a session, usually because I had
run out of batteries, they would crowd around while I downloaded their
images onto the computer, arguing over which poses were best, looking to me
for any scrap of praise.

   A second project I wanted to complete before we moved on was to perfect
the boys in the art of knife fighting.  My promise to Rabbit that we would
have a paintball session 'for real' was part of my reason for this, plus I
had vague notions of perhaps staging a 'knives only' fight with the boys
striped in Cami paint stalking each other through the maze.  The knife
training also provided another excuse for putting off a 'real' contest
while the boys trained.  I was enjoying myself too much with my stable of
five fighters to be in a hurry to lose one.

   I bought a set of rubber knives at a novelty store and used these for
the practice sessions, pitting the boys one-on-one against each other in
varying situations.  It was an activity the boys relished, particularly
Eddie and Scott, who outdid themselves in finding spectacular ways to 'die'
when they were 'stabbed'.  Often I used Scott as a living anatomical model,
stretching the boy out naked on the mat while the others practiced cuts on
him, slashing or stabbing with their rubber blades his neck, armpits,
chest, stomach and groin; learning all the vital spots for a fast kill or
disabling strike.  My young blonde fighter always had a bone in these
sessions, his stiff little spike jutting rigidly upward while he writhed in
pretended agony when the other boys struck at him.  Each time there was a
stab in a vital spot he would thrash as if in a dying spasm, then sprawl
lifeless on the mat for a few seconds before lifting his head, grinning at
me and positioning himself for the next practice blow.

   When the knife fighting was incorporated into our paintball sessions the
boys came up with rules, combining scores for artful blade strikes with
points for good shooting so they could compete with each other.  I let them
do as much as they wanted, noting that both Todd and Rabbit usually won,
although Scott could have, too, if he were not so intent on pretending to
'die' in dramatic fashion.

   Watching all five of them, enjoying the flash of light on smooth sweat
slick young bodies during the morning workouts, reveling in their fierce
play during the afternoons, then taking each in turn for long winter nights
of passionate coupling, I drifted along in my idyll and might have
continued longer if it had not snowed.

   We got hit by a heavy three-day snow storm.  While it blew, and for days
afterwards, the snow kept the boys indoors where they fretted, arguing with
each other over small things, complaining about not being able to play
paintball in the backyard.

   "When we gonna do it for real?" Scott kept asking me.  Both he and
Rabbit never stopped reminding me of my promise, but now the other boys
began asking as well, particularly Mike who had become the most restless of
all during the enforced confinement indoors.

   "When we gonna like play for real?" He asked me one night after the
laser tag game was finished and he had accompanied me upstairs.  The boy
hugged himself to me, squirming to slide onto my rigid pole while I leaned
back propped against the pillows.  It was his favorite position, the one I
had used to take him the first time and the one he still liked the best. 
With a little grunt of pleasure he bore down to loosen his ring and then,
quivering, allowed my jutting hardness to fill him as he settled onto my
groin.

   "You in a big hurry to do it?" I asked, sliding my palms on the small
boy's taut silky back.

   Mike let out a soft moan, writhing on my impaling rod, moving it deep in
his gut.  He nodded.  "Scotty...  an' like Rabbit..." he groaned, panting a
little in the throes of ecstasy.  "They like...  They like say...  That's
what we gonna do..." He twisted, shuddering again, pulling his head back to
arch his firm little body.

   I kept stroking him, feeling the shivering waves of passion rippling
through the boy.  "You're not scared to do it?"

   "Uh-uh!"

   Mike groaned, then began bouncing on me, pumping his body on my
thrusting shaft while I steadied him, my arms around his chest.  "Uh... 
Uh...  Uh...  Uh..." Suddenly he went rigid, heaving into arching tension;
his tousled head pulled back, mouth open.  "Ah...  Ahhhhhhhhhh..."

   Surge after surge of throbbing contractions pulsed within, squeezing
around my embedded rod.  The boy jerked, shuddering in spasm.  Then with a
long sigh, "Uhhhhhhhhhhhh...", he crumpled against my chest, trembling as
he caught his breath.

   "So you really wanna do it, huh?" I murmured to him, leaning forward to
kiss his soft white-blond hair.

   Mike was still breathing hard so his answer came in a fierce husky
whisper.  "Yeah!  I wanna...  I wanna, Joe...  I ain't scared..."

   "Well, I guess we better do it then." I kissed him once more, holding
the boy close, caressing his hard silky warm body and feeling the pounding
of his tiny heart against my skin.

   So I decided it was time.  They all wanted to, or said they did.  Only
Todd, the quiet one who rarely said anything, had not asked me the
question. But when I announced after breakfast that we would be going to
the maze the following day I caught the flash in his eyes as he glanced
around at his competitors.

   "Paintball for real, Joe?" Rabbit asked, his own eyes glittering with an
eager excitement.

   "No.  We save that for last," I told him, and raised my hand when I saw
the boy's disappointment.  "Paintball is gonna be the big finish.  I'm
saving it.  We'll do the laser tag tomorrow and it's gonna be like a
preliminary elimination." I glanced around the circle of young faces, all
turned up toward me.  Scott was grinning but the rest had set determined
expressions.  "For one of you..." I paused for a moment, "Tomorrow will be
your last fight..."

   The boys all turned and looked at each other.  I let my words hang in
the air for a moment, then clapped my hands.  "Okay.  Let's get started
with the workout.  Nothing heavy today, just a lot of stretching.  I want
you guys ready to go all out tomorrow!"

   The day passed in tension with the boys like young racehorses impatient
to run, finding ways to compete against each other even though I tried to
eliminate all the usual opportunities by skipping the wrestling, knife
practice, target shooting and even the post-supper laser tag game. 
Instead, after coaching the boys through a minimal work out with light
weight and plenty of aerobic stretching, I made them spend the afternoon
posing for the camera, knowing that for at least one of them it was my last
chance to record his image.

   As they always did the boys got into it, vying to outdo each other's
images.  Eddie and Scott covered Mike with streaks of green blue and yellow
giving him the exotic appearance of some tropical boy bird spirit and I
took shot after shot of him in erotic poses, finishing with a series in
which he posed sprawled across the weight bench or on the floor mat,
holding a long thin stick against his chest to make it appear that he had
been killed by an arrow.  When I got my lighting adjusted, the resulting
images had a poignant harrowing beauty that was better than almost anything
else we did that day.

   But the best of all came from a shot Todd created.  We had, in our set
of props, some long black leather straps Mike occasionally used for bondage
poses.  Wrapping himself in one of these Todd twisted his lean graceful
body into a half-turned arch, a sinuous curve.  In that pose, with his head
back, eyes closed and mouth half open, the camera lens transformed his
smooth silky lines into a form of unearthly beauty, a young Ganymede
overwhelmed by a god�s passion, ravished by an invisible Zeus.  The image
was stunning, a lucky shot with the illumination just right so Todd's
glossy perfection gleamed, bathed in pure light.  I could tell Scott and
Rabbit were jealous when they saw it.  Both tried to match the picture with
inventions of their own, but neither succeeded and they knew it.

   That evening we all watched a movie together, an X-Men film that I
allowed Todd to pick, and then for the night's sleeping arrangements I put
Todd by himself in the small bedroom, Eddie and Mike in the large room,
locked them all in, and took Scott and Rabbit upstairs with me.  With a
mortal encounter approaching it was my intention that they both get plenty
of rest.  But Scott was excited and squirmed, twisting against me, tugging
at my arm until I took him, entering the boy as he lay on his back, arms
and legs wrapped around me.  Then Rabbit, unwilling to let Scott have any
extra attention he could not share, pestered me until I pleasured him as
well, so none of us got to sleep until the early hours of the morning.  As
we were drifting off, with the boys cuddling to either side of me, I
whispered, "You guys are my top fighters.  Only one kid gets eliminated in
this fight.  If it's either of you two I'm gonna be pissed, so you better
not screw up!"

   Scott giggled, wiggling his hips to squirm against me.  On my other side
Rabbit hugged tight, face pressed to my chest.

   ---------------------- End of Chapter Fourteen ----------------------