In the course of his struggle with Gary, Bill's bath robe had come off. To my relief, he was not wearing Dom kit. In fact, he was naked apart from his boots. He now scientifically set about hitting me with his riding-crop. However he did this carefully, interspersing exquisite pain with soothing caresses and sexual arousal. When I was gasping from a well-aimed thrashing, I would suddenly feel his lips round my cock or his tongue exploring my asshole. He repeatedly edged me, but never let me cum. Bill had great hands; I responded with terror and delight when he touched me, roughly or gently.

I later learned that he owned and rode horses and was good at breaking them in. I could believe it. He was now breaking me in. In a ghastly way I was starting to enjoy it. I suddenly realised that my best way forward was to surrender completely to Bill; go along with whatever he wanted to do, and I would have an extreme, if painful, form of pleasure. This went against the grain, of course: I saw myself as an Alpha Male who did not surrender to anybody, or get fucked. But the fact was that I didn't have much choice and I had already been fucked twice that day by Gary: once, brutally, with his African Prince dildo and once with his own cock. I strongly suspected that Bill was going to get his helping of Alex too. He even spoke to me under his breath as he might speak to a horse:

"Good lad. Stay still now. Whoa! Now give me head and give it to me good. No teeth, just lips and tongue, remember... See how deep you can take it... go, take it... It was no hardship to suck Bill's cock, which was pink, circumcised and beautiful. Also, he stopped thrashing me while I was doing it. His balls were massive and heavy. I reckoned that, if I could have milked him, I'd have got a quart of sperm out of them!

I must have done something right. So many of the surfaces were mirror glass that I could watch us in triplicate. Bill was leaning back, with both hands on a fitness machine supporting him at about waist-height; ; his legs were wide apart; the knees slightly bent; his hips thrust forward; head tilted backwards to face the ceiling, which was also mirrored. His eyes were closed and his mouth partly-open, groaning gently. He was thrusting gently into my mouth. He was loving it. He gasped and moaned quietly.

"Wow! Oh yeah... fuck yeah... oh fuck!!"

Bill was fucking beautiful. Even at that moment of pain, discomfort and fear, I desired him so much. Imagine this: His naked body; all six-foot-six or more of it, was perfectly proportioned, from the long, strong legs to the surprisingly narrow waist, the great triangular torso, the perfect pecs, the massive shoulders and arms - I am really turned on by muscular arms - the corded strength of the neck; the brutally handsome head, whose face was now gasping, grimacing and looking vulnerable because of my ministrations. The sensual lips were open and his breath came in gasps. His eyes were tight shut; the eyebrows contorted in something more like pain than pleasure. I, the captive, was in control.

"Oh yeah... fuck yeah... oh, that feels good!"

He was as hirsute as I had imagined, but not too much so. The dark curly hair started at the base of his throat and spread in dense curls across his upper torso. His rosy nipples showed through it. I'd have liked to kiss them. Below his pecs it narrowed into a hairy strip that pointed towards his navel. From navel a thin line of dark hair led to the explosion of dark, glistening curls at his groin. They smelt pleasantly of the spicy shower-gel that Bill must have used. Only very fine hair was seen on his arms and legs. Bill didn't seem to sunbathe much, or else he did not tan easily. His skin was pale but healthy-looking. Earlier I had seen that his back was smooth and hairless, as were his ass-cheeks.

Suddenly Bill's eyes opened and he grinned at me.

"Uh... that was great. But I mustn't cum yet!"

He raised me on the hoist and gave me a kiss. I loved the macho taste of his mouth. The feeling was evidently mutual.

Bill chuckled. "I can taste my own sex in your mouth!"

Gary was still hunched in his chair and looking pretty sour. He was playing with his erect cock.

"Now, what to do next?" said Bill thoughtfully.

At that moment there was a burst of jaunty Army music from the pocket of his discarded bath robe. It sounded like "Colonel Bogey." This was obviously his preferred ringtone.

"Ignore it," said Gary.

"I can't," said Bill. "It's fucking Hereford." Without pulling on his bathrobe, he ran with his Mobile into the changing room where he could talk in privacy. I noted the great legs and really nice ass, in action as it were. I hoped for more than that. The door, which was self-closing, slammed behind him.

"Now we're alone for a bit," said Gary.

First, he moved over to the changing room and locked the door behind Bill. He then moved with the speed of a hungry spider. He strapped a ball-gap round my head, effectively stopping me from saying anything. This was worrying. Then he produced what looked like a baton.

"Guess what this is?" Gary grinned wickedly at me.

I shook my head. I was worried: rightly so, as it turned out.

"It's an electric cattle prod," chuckled Gary.

He then proceeded to "zap" me with it. Firstly, the left nipple, which almost caused a heart-attack. I was soon screaming in a muffled way.

Then: "You never really cared about having kids, did you?" smiled Gary.

He applied it to my cock and then my balls, then again to my cock. It was the most painful thing that had ever happened to me, not excluding being fucked by the African Prince earlier that day. Suddenly Gary pulled away the ball-gag.

"Scream as much as you like! Bill can't rescue you now!"


Behind my own screams I could hear Bill thumping on the dressing room door and shouting.

"No more little Alexes!" shouted Gary, and did it again.


He was really enjoying himself. I knew that he wouldn't care if he killed me now. He was in a 'roid rage; completely out of control.

"Now the moment we've all been waiting for!" He rimmed me and then thrust his lube-covered finger deep inside me. I knew immediately what he was going to do next.


"Yes, oh yes! I've been waiting for this moment, you bastard!"

He moved round and took my face between his hands. He kissed me messily.

"Shout when you're fucking knackered, Pommie!" he jeered.

He shoved the prod into my ass and activated it. It was like nothing I'd ever experienced. My innermost man was seared and mega-shocked. I screamed the loudest I've ever screamed.

Gary was laughing like a drain.

I saw myself in the mirror, now completely smashed; slumped like a corpse on the barbed wire in Flanders, circa 1916. Except that I was naked. A corpse of that vintage would have had at least the rags of a uniform and some dignity in death. Not me. Then I died.

At least, I thought I did.

When I woke up, I was lying under towels on what was probably a massage couch, with Bill applying life-saver techniques.

"Still alive?" said Bill.

"Yup, I think so. Thanks..." I held out a hand. Bill took it. "Where's Gary?"

"Look over there," said Bill. "He'd really gone much too far with you."

Gary was now near the ceiling. Bill had somehow overpowered him and hogtied him. Hands and feet were manacled together behind his back and Bill had used the hoist to raise him as far from the floor as possible. The ball-gag was now in his mouth but he was making muffled threats to kill us and glaring at us. His Nazi cap and his leather harness were on the floor, but he still had his boots and his black leather jock-strap. His body was also gleaming with sweat, which it had not been, earlier.

"I never thought he'd do that. I never even knew he possessed that gadget," said Bill. "I'm sorry I did not get to you sooner. It took a minute or two to get out of the changing room."

"How did you get out?"

"Easy. I used my credit card. It wasn't a complicated lock," said Bill smugly; "just a bit stiff. It took a few moments. Now, said Bill decisively, "It's after six. I'm taking you back to your hotel. Have a shower next door. I'll fetch your clothes from upstairs. I'm looking after you tonight. Suddenly he smiled. "He's wrecked your briefs. I'll raid his shop for some more. What do you fancy? Aussiebum?"

"Anything: see if he stocks Calvin Klein." Bill nodded and disappeared towards the lift. I suddenly occurred to me that, if he appeared in the shop, which would presumably be well-lit, he would be naked apart from his boots. Oh well, it was Old Compton Street. No-one would mind and Bill was super-colossally beautiful.

We left Gary tied up and hanging from the ceiling. As a parting shot, Bill shoved the glass dildo that he had used earlier on me, up Gary's anus.

"What if he needs to piss?" I asked.

"Good point," said Bill, and proceeded to cut away Gary's leather jock-strap, leaving him completely exposed. He teased Gary's cock and balls with his commando-knife. Gary looked both aghast and furious.

"Don't worry about him," said Bill. "His assistant Joshua will come in early tomorrow to supervise the cleaners. They'll find Gary; not in the most dignified state, perhaps, but still very much alive, and they'll rescue him, give him some tea etc." He patted Gary affectionately.

Somehow Bill got me back to my hotel, where he was staying too: in a penthouse suite.

"Fucking expensive, but all the other rooms were taken for your blasted conference," said Bill. "Still, it's only for one night and you're passing it with me. I don't think Gary's likely to try anything; not after what I've done to him, but I want to be sure, so you stay with me. I've ordered supper for two."

"Bill, I should warn you that I might not be much good in bed tonight..." I said.

"You'll be fine after a couple of Viagra," said Bill cheerfully. "Here you are. I'll have some too. Here's a glass of water! Cheers!"

For the record, despite the trauma Gary had inflicted on me, I had a great night. Bill was a stellar lover, as good in bed as he was handsome. He was completely versatile and let me fuck him, although the highlight of the night was his "total, thorough fuck of Alex."

About 4 am I was awake and heard him stir beside me.

"Want some more?" he asked sleepily.


And Bill obliged, like the hero he was.

At 5.30 am he was in the shower and at 5.45 he was getting ready to leave. He was soldier-smart, with a clean, pressed shirt and his beret set neatly on his head. He'd buffed his boots.

"I've got to get back to... where I came from," he said.

"You mean Hereford?" I asked.

"Never mind! Okay, yes, I mean that place," he chuckled. "And I have a few words of advice for you. Keep away from Old Compton Street! In fact try to keep away from London for a while, till Gary has calmed down, if he ever does. Meanwhile, go for a run if you can face it. Make sure plenty of people her see you coming back in your track suit. I brought it up from your room downstairs."

I nodded.

"Then catch up with, and placate over breakfast, your colleague who will have missed you yesterday. Have some good story ready for him, so he won't go bleating to your bosses."

Bill gave me a rib-crushing hug and a rough man-kiss.

"Finally, learn to give as well as take. You can't expect to go through life expecting to fuck everyone else and not get fucked yourself from time to time. It's only good manners to reciprocate and, done properly, when he hits your prostate g-spot, it feels great! Even I get fucked, as you now know. And I assure you that I am no less of a man for that!"

He grinned. He looked like the hero of a boys' war comic.

"Shall I see you again?"

"Probably. I can't give you my number, but I've got yours! I got it out of your Filofax. Be more careful with that, too. You shouldn't leave it lying around in your bedroom. I got in, once more using my credit card when I went to get your track suit. I'll turn up when you least expect me. I know where you live!" The last sentence was said with humorous menace. "Let's hope Gary doesn't!"

Later, over breakfast, Jake caught up with me.

"Where the fuck did you get to?"

"Long story, Jake. Pass the HP Sauce?"

"Sauce is about right! I had the most boring time of my life yesterday afternoon and evening. I needed your moral support, to say nothing of your ability to speak foreign languages! Half the executives of our German partner firm speak nothing but bleeding German! Anyway, what happened to you? I can read you like a book you know. You look both smug and guilty as hell. There's a woman involved, isn't there?"

"You don't miss much, do you?"

"Have some more coffee. Tell Uncle Jake everything!"

"Well, yesterday lunchtime I went to Peter Jones in Sloane Square to choose a birthday present for my mother. Mission accomplished, I decided to have lunch there. They have this restaurant on the top floor. It is self-service, really good value for money and has panoramic views over London. I got one of the small tables by a window and was tucking in when the other chair was drawn out and someone calmly sat down opposite me!"

"And it was a beautiful stranger?"

"Nope. An old flame!"

"Oh, priceless!" said Jake. "Let me guess. You see, I know you so well. She's a Sloane Ranger with blond hair, real or out of a bottle. She wears Hermes headscarves and Hermes scent. She has a large, expensive handbag. She says 'okay yah!' rather often. Her name... is something like Imogen, Caroline, Arabella, Araminta, Ara-anything, in fact! Am I right?"

"More or less!"

"Why am I not surprised? And then, after you'd had your lunch, she invited you back to her pad, which was not far away in SW7, for coffee and later, on the pouncing couch, she pounced!"

"Correct, except for one point. It was her husband's pad!"

"A married lady! That's naughty! You were running a risk! I suppose that he's a stinking rich merchant wanker?"

"No, actually: a stinking rich soldier." I proceeded to describe Bill.

"Wow! You do like living dangerously. A big, tough soldier, eh? What would he have done to you if he'd caught you?"

"Killed me, of course. Actually, he did come back unexpectedly! I had to dress rather quickly and get out down the service stair. He rang from the street and to say that he'd forgotten his key. That gave us just enough time to hide the evidence and for me to get out." Jake was hanging on my every word. "Promise me, Jake that you won't tell anyone?"

"Course not! Mum's the word," said Jake, "Scout's Honour!"

That meant that it would all come out the next time that Jake got really plastered; probably at the office Christmas party.

Suddenly Jake looked at me with absolute horror. "Crikey! I've just remembered!"

"Remembered what?"

"In the hotel lobby! I went out for an early jog and to get a paper and I almost knocked into a soldier, who was leaving the hotel as I was coming back! He was exactly like your description of Araminta's husband! A huge guy! You've had a lucky escape!"

"I believe that I have!"

A couple of days later Jake and I played squash. By that time the memories of my adventure with Gary and Bill were fading. That was not true of the marks of the flogger and Bill's riding whip. Gary suddenly noticed them on my back in the shower.

"Jeepers, Alex! You've been in the wars! Who did that to you? Was it Araminta?"

"Yeah; she gets a bit carried away when she's having sex. She's very over-sexed. And her riding crop was handy, so she laid into me! She hunts, you see. It was painful, but very erotic."

"Wow! You really do like living dangerously. You're no ordinary man, Alex!"

Clearly Mrs Jake was going to get an earful when Jake got back to Essex after the conference.

He was looking at me with new respect. And my reputation was safe for now.

About six months later I was working late in the upstairs study of my small house near Wylam. It is a short distance from Newcastle, where my office is, but it is very rural. It was now spring and I had recovered from my exciting trip to London the previous autumn. The weather was warm, so I had left most of my upstairs windows open. Outside, the night-noises of owls, a nightjar and other small creatures were audible. It was a fine night, although the moon was not full and there was plenty of shadow outside. From time to time there would be a creak, which happens in all old houses, as they settled into their foundations. I tapped away at my laptop, writing a report, when:

"Gotcha, you bastard!" A harsh voice sounded in my ear. One large hand covered my eyes, while the other grabbed me by the throat.

OMG. Gary had tracked me down . I was in a state of panic. He could murder me in this secluded cottage and it would be days before anyone found me.

A deep chuckle reassured me. It was Bill. "That scared you, didn't it?"

There he was, as large as life, standing in my study. Big hugs followed. And how had he got in?

"Easy. You must be more careful about security. I could see that you were in the study, but the bedroom next door was in darkness. The bedroom window was open, however. So, I just shinned up the drainpipe, got in through the window and came at you from behind, out of your bedroom, when you least expected it. Rule No 1: don't leave the windows open in a room that you are not using. Rule No 2, always use burglar-proof non-drying paint on your drain-pipes!"

"And what are you doing here?"

"I'm running an infantry exercise nearby, so I came up here on a recce. I thought I'd beg a bed for the night: your bed, to be specific. I want to fuck you. Get your kit off."

Bill shed his combat jacket, shirt and pullover by pulling them all over his head in one motion. He was then naked to the waist, apart from his ID tags.

I only had jeans, a T-shirt and slippers to shed.

Impatient Bill bent me over my desk and was soon rimming me . Then he dropped his trousers, spat on my asshole, and he was in. It hurt like fuck, but it was great.

A few minutes later I was on my back, holding my ankles, while Bill plunged away.

Late we slept together, lying on our left-hand side, with Bill wrapped round me. He got active again about 4 am.

Over breakfast I asked him whether all SAS soldiers were as oversexed as him.

"I believe so. We're said to be rather good in bed. Would you like to try out some others?"

"Thanks, but I think one of you is enough. And you are the only man who gets to fuck me!"

"Suits me," said Bill, "but I think you're being rather silly.Being fucked can be a lot of fun. As I shall shortly demonstrate."


Max Markham


Rate Story Choose rating between 1 (worst) and 10 (best).

Bookmark and Share

blog comments powered by Disqus