We continued to ride in the wet heat away from hazy commerce. Big Daddy sped down Highway 45, passing cars belching contributions to the choking heat, to where light and man bent to the heat's will. We edged toward our destination until the highway changed to two thick asphalt straps overlaying cattle country, where farms and ranches patched the earth like a quilt and where faded houses and barns stood exhausted against a sky of growing blue.

Big Daddy pulled his Harley (he thought newer cars and SUVs were for, in his words, "Milquetoast panty waste") onto a gravel road and wound around to one of the faded houses with an adjacent red and rusting barn. He stopped in a cloud of gravel dust, propped the Harley, and removed his glasses to blow them clear. With the sun only slightly left of vertical, a solitary bird and a few bees fled our commotion. I didn't know exactly where we were, nor did I know why we had come. My fear prompted me to ask.

"Just shut up and stay here," Daddy threw over his shoulder in a tone that sounded almost angry, and although he had never backed his anger with violence, I never tested his limits. He walked to the back, and after a while I heard the sound of the front door opening.

"Get in here and piss if you need to." I shaded my eyes and saw his expression hadn't changed. His gray eyes held a resolve that I didn't understand. I went in, leaving the question to the birds and insects.

**So finally, he's treating me like my other daddy. ** The thought flashed in my mind: an alert to disappointment, a movement toward distress. Other thoughts followed: **He just wants me around for his own pleasure; to worship my youth; to indulge my slender, hairless body; and to monopolize my need to please him.** But I pushed away the thoughts as quickly as they spoke. I wonder what I did, or said, to make him want to do this. After telling him about my first daddy, why had I ended up in the same situation?

I decided to wait to see what happened.

** First rule: never be seen with a man almost half your age. ** I couldn't stop the awful thoughts.

It had been eight months and I hadn't met his family. No man wanted to be in the position of explaining his "indiscretions," especially indiscretions with a younger man. He had to hide, I guessed, dirty little secrets like me.

I didn't want to see him again after this. He said he was my daddy; he said he would never hurt or humiliate me; and he said he understood what I had been through. And I believed him. I wondered how I could have trusted Big Daddy so, because up to now, he had been so kind, so gentle, and so loving. My heart was sinking, so I took a deep breath and waited for his instructions.

He wouldn't catch my gaze, another sign that maybe I was going to be punished, perhaps by his withholding sex. He had never punished me with sex before. How could I have been so blind? I felt like such a fool. I easily could have walked away, but now I was in the middle of nowhere, and nowhere extended for miles.

"Get undressed, fold your clothes and leave them on the bed in there" he said, moving toward the back entrance with a large gym bag and pointing to a back bedroom. "Then put on everything laid out on the bed. Everything."

The emphatically stressed "everything" had me more than worried. Now I was downright scared.

I turned to go, but stopped with angry tears warming my eyes, "Why won't you tell me what's going on, Big Daddy?"

"Go, boy," he said pointing his finger again toward the room and backing it with a scowl on his face. I wanted to see^×I needed to see^×his eyes, but he averted them before I could see the truth or the absence of it.

I hoped he had brought alcohol and that "Robin Trower" CD I liked so much.

I thought it funny how irrelevant thoughts entered my mind when my soul refused to acknowledge external insanity. Yet, I reasoned that with the soothing music and a punch in the face from "Jose Cuervo", I would be numb by the time Big Daddy's breath kissed my neck and his thick cock seared my ass. Yes, by that time, I would be too numb to care^×I needed not to care.

In the room, furnished as if an elderly woman slept there, I stood staring at the items on the bed for more than a few seconds to let their existence sink in. I couldn't believe what I was seeing: four cuffs, a neck collar, a full-body harness, complete with butt-plug holster, and a blindfold.

Next to the butt-plug and its harness was a note:

"Put these on, in order, starting from your left. When you put the blindfold on, sit in the chair next to the door and wait. Do not talk when I arrive. Only answer when you are addressed. If you do not want to do this, sit in the chair until I arrive. If you put the items on and decided that you can't go through with it, you will have the opportunity to say so when I ask. If in any case, you decline, I will take you back to town.


I let the paper fall to the bed and stared at the items. I truly loved him, and now it time to show Big Daddy that I was the boy I said I was. I really didn't know what he needed to find out. On the other hand, this was a side of Big Daddy that I had never seen, and as scary as it was, I didn't want to lose him.

There wasn't much time before he returned. I picked up the note and read the last line: "Now, choose, boy."



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