The Trefoil in use
“I’m proud of you, my love.” Dave announced as we sank into the fabulous king sized, canopied, bed. “A couple of years ago you’d have denied even being Gay, and now you’re here, in bed with me, in a house full of attractive men. And tomorrow you're going to be in rubber, in the most amazing gimp prison I’ve ever seen, and totally at my mercy—with an audience.” His leg went over mine and his hand found my stiffening cock. “Are you happy being my lover?”
“Silly, question, beloved.” Pulling his face to mine, I kissed him. “Somehow you make me a man.” Hesitating, I whispered, “This house … the servants, Tris … I feel a bit overawed, but as long as I’m with you …”
“Overawed?” Pausing he stared at me. “Ah, well, my love, you’ve no need to feel that way, and I’ll help you. Enjoy the rubber—in fact, once we’re all in rubber, we’re all the same.” He chuckled. “Though some of us look a lot better than others even in rubber.” His mouth engulfed mine in a kiss.
Putting my tongue into his mouth I held him in a deep kiss, enjoying the hardness of his gorgeous member pressed to my hip. “I don’t know why you do what you do for me, or what you did that very first night … but I know one thing, I trust you in a way I couldn’t trust anyone else. You’re everything to me.” Kissing him again, I whispered, “Now stop talking and let’s enjoy making love in this fabulous room in this fabulous house!”
“Now that’s an invitation I can’t refuse, you gorgeous man.” Rolling on top of me, his cock pressed into me and mine pressed against his stomach as he propped himself with his hands on my shoulders. “Tomorrow is going to be something … Sure you don’t want me to swop places with you?”
“Positive,” I grinned teasing his nipples between my fingers and thumbs. “I gather from Pierre that the plan is to keep us eager, but not allowed to cum, and only you, Tristan and Paul get to fuck the offerings …” I grinned. “And I wouldn’t miss being at your mercy for anything!”
“I’ll make sure it’s the best for you my love.” Lowering himself completely, “Only the very best for you, my darling.”
There was no further talking as we were too busy kissing, and then far, far too busy enjoying each other’s erections. We both fell asleep savouring cum and happy.
People began arriving late in the afternoon. It being autumn it was cool, but dry in the garden around the grotto, though with the sun sinking rapidly it was getting cooler.
“Time we got ‘dressed’ love,” Dave took my hand. “I’ve got to put you into the bondage suit tonight, though I think we leave the mitts and the gag off until we’re all set.”
It had been a lovely relaxed day, wandering in the small park, admiring the formal garden, and, of course, being shown over the house. It was even older than I’d thought, the cellar, or more properly, the undercroft, beneath the main house being all that was left of an early medieval manor house.
“Quite a lot of it is from the Elizabethan period with some Jacobin.” Tristan told me. It escaped notice during the Civil War, thankfully, but not, sadly, the attentions of a ‘moderniser’ in the time of George Two. Later family lost interest and it became more or less a home for elderly female relatives.” Waving a dismissive hand, he laughed. “A lot of inconvenient old ‘queens’ I think from the records. My great-grandfather cleaned it up a bit and leased it out to a wealthy banker—probably the most sensible thing he did with any of the properties—and the last of them, and old naval captain, surrendered the lease to me—much to the fury of my father who wanted to sell it off.” His laugh suggested there’d been what my family called ‘words’ over this.
“But, surely, if he owned it …?”
“Owned it? Lord no. The properties are all entailed and held in trust—family corporation sort of thing.” He laughed. “He’s only Chairman of the Trust, and all of us have to agree to any disposal of land or property.” Giving me a sideways glance, he explained. “Us ‘old’ families are worse than a medieval king’s court for grudges, assassinations and outright murder, you know. I refused to consent to the sale unless it was sold to a buyer I preferred, and NOT for redevelopment.”
“Yes,” chipped in Dave joining us. “Castlelayne Holdings …”
“Castlelayne Holdings?” My surprise showed, “But that’s …”
“Your old landlord.” Dave finished. “Small world, see.”
“So you own this …” I gestured around the house and park and Tristan and Dave laughed.
“Not any more.” Slipping an arm round me, Dave hugged me. “There was this lovely chap I knew … really keen to restore it … so I sold it to him. After a decent interval, of course …”
“The family are still spitting blood,” Tristan said, laughing.
I was still digesting the earlier conversation, as I watched Dave dress in the full body latex suit he’d chosen to wear for the ‘inauguration sacrifices’. I was already fully dressed in the tight rubber bondage suit I was to wear, though, as yet, not wearing the mitts or the muzzle gag attached to the open faced hood covering my head, and with my arms still unrestrained.
“I did explain to you about my aunt’s property business, love.” Dave secured the codpiece of his suit. “She bought this place because I asked her too, and it amused her to put one over Tris’ father.” Now fully dressed apart from the rather awesome devil mask hood which he would wear for the evening, he held out his hands to me, and I took them. “Sure you still want to be the ‘sacrifice’, Love? There’s still time to swap roles …”
“And waste having purged myself, filled my pussy with this amazing lube Pierre gave me and the opportunity to surrender myself to being enjoyed by my fabulous lover? No chance, love!” Kissing him, I grinned. “Now lead me to my fate and let’s enjoy it.”
“As you wish.” Kissing me, he grinned, picked up a hood mask decorated with rubber rams horns and fitted it carefully. “Like it? All the ‘masters’ wear them.”
It looked awesome on him, and my cock stiffened in its pouch. “I love it!”
Hand in hand we strolled up to the the maze, joining Pierre, looking stunning in the full body harness I’d modelled in Dave’s workshop, Tristan and then Ben, like me in a bondage suit and Paul, dressed in a pair of leggings ending in boots that gave him hooves for feet, a body harness and the devil hood mask that marked him as the officiant offering his partner. Tristan wore an outfit similar to Dave’s as we negotiated our way into the ante-chamber and joined the rubbered men already there enjoying small glasses of sherry served by Jethro, Colin, Anton and Michael—all in harnesses, chaps, boots and devil mask hoods.
The variety of rubber costumes worn by the other’s present fell into two categories—those clearly subs, and those clearly dominants or ‘masters’. Everyone wore a hood with at least half their faces covered, some of the hoods having solid looking horns. Dave’s hood gave him a saturnine appearance, and his horns curled to frame his head. Everyone, including we three ‘sacrifices’, wore either a pouch, or a codpiece covering their genitals.
“A little club joke,” Tristan explained, his hood like Dave’s. “Since we’re always told we’re devils, we thought we should look the part. Like the look?”
“Certainly looks like what I was always told I was going to end up as if I didn’t mend my ways,” I replied as Dave hugged me.
Dave and Tristan, with me and Pierre in tow, circulated, greeting and chatting as we moved around. As I didn’t know anyone besides our hosts, and the guys who’d helped me assemble the trefoil we were soon to be ‘sacrificed’ on, I found it a bit of a relief to be joined by Ben and Paul.
“Looking forward to it?” Asked Ben, grinning. “I know I am—and Mr Pierre’s lube has something in it that keeps us ‘eager’.” Chuckling he enquired, “Did he give you some?”
“He did,” I replied. In fact I was feeling the effects and guessed Ben was. “What’s it do?”
“Keeps you hot, and eager to be fucked. Also keeps you hard and eager to cum …” His grin widened, “but, you can’t for a couple of hours. Did he tell you?”
“Er, no.” I thought about it. In my codpiece, my cock was certainly eager. “Ah, he did say it would make it a long night …”
“Yeah, it does,” Ben grinned. “Uh oh, looks like we’re wanted.”
Tristan was signalling and we joined Dave and Paul at his side as the other attendees began to move to the main chamber. Pierre winked as we arrived, already, gagged and restrained.
“Time for our sacrifices to be gagged and have their offerings displayed,” Tristan said with a smile. “But first let each sacrifice draw a token to determine his position on the trefoil.” Holding out a bag, he smiled. “Since Tom built it, to Pierre’s design, and Ben helped assemble it here, Tom gets the first draw, then you, Ben. There are three tokens, each with a symbol of the position you will be in on the trefoil.” Offering it to me, he smiled, “Tom?”
Putting my hand into the bag, I found the coin-like plastic tokens, and took one. Glancing at it as the bag moved to ben, I felt relief. I would be on my back in the same position I’d been when Tristan and Pierre visited my workshop. Giving the token to Dave, I submitted to having my mitts fitted and my arms secured. Then Dave kissed me, and fitted my muzzle. At my side, Ben was now gagged and his arms secured to his sides while Paul removed the pouch that covered his genitals releasing a thick and stiffening member as Dave did the same for me. Over Dave’s head I could see Pierre's erection was now fully displayed. He winked above his muzzle.
Our entry into the main chamber brought applause. The lighting, soft, with red, orange and yellow concealed lamps aimed up the walls created a soft, ‘fiery’, light in the room as we were led into place. Jaques, in an amazing rubber suit and an incredible mask with curled goat horns, and, like Paul, wearing boots that turned his feet into hooves, led each of us to our place on the trefoil and now Jethro, Colin and Michael assisted in securing us into place. With our heads inside the central triangular ‘column’ we were now isolated and completely at the mercy of our partners …
I though I knew what Dave was likely to do, and that he wouldn’t be fucking me for some time. In fact that was the only thing I was absolutely sure of—that I would be getting a damned good fuck from him. In the mirror I could see both Pierre and Ben. Pierre winked, and I responded, so did Ben, all we could do was wait and see, or perhaps feel, what our partners intended. The muzzles meant there was no way we could talk to each other, so our only communication was by facial expression—limited by the head harnesses Ben and I wore and Pierre’s hood—and the grunts and snorts the muzzles allowed.
Pierre, being face down with his cock in the milker tube, was in the most vulnerable position. As he was looking down at his mirror to see us, we had a good view of his eyes only. For his part he could see more of our faces. Ben was the first to react. His eyebrows shot up, and his eyes were wide.
“Unff!” His gasp was accompanied by his shutting his eyes tight, and then another “Unff!”
Pierre’s snort, coincided with my own response to a large butt plug stretching my manhole. It was no sooner inside me than, my balls were being sucked and gently fondled with Dave’s tongue. As always he did an exquisite job of exploring and teasing my cock and balls with his mouth, constantly bringing me to the edge, and then denying me that release. After a while of this, I felt him fitting electro rings to me, and wasn’t disappointed—the first jolts were sharp, but the other’s were being subjected to their own versions of this exquisite torture.
Ben appeared to be getting something of the same as I was, and from the sounds and expressions escaping Pierre, he wasn’t just being ‘milked’. In our prison, time had no relevance and Dave certainly made sure I got a damned good, and enjoyable, workout. It was almost a relief to feel the plug being removed. I knew what was coming, and welcomed it.
The electro continued as I felt Dave’s cock pressed against my muscle. Receiving him like this, on my back with my legs spread and raised, was my favourite position—though normally I could watch his face as he fucked me. This was different. Now I had no view of him or his face as he fucked me. All I could see was the faces—partly obscured by the muzzles and harness or hood—of my companions. From Pierre’s ecstatic moans, he was certainly getting his money’s worth. Ben, like me, face up, seemed to be getting a thorough fuck as well.
I felt Dave’s ejaculation inside me and did my best to hold him there even as he slowly softened and then slipped free. I moaned as his mouth engulfed my twitching organ, the electro having just stopped. With the lower ring still in place, he now set about giving me the kind of head I can never resist, and it wasn’t long before I was desperate to shoot my load into his greedy throat. To my frustration I couldn’t—and I remembered Ben’s words about the lube …
Faintly I heard applause, then I my still swollen cock and balls were being fitted into a hard moulding, and a butt plug inserted into my anus. Finally I was freed from the cuffs holding me in place, the neck stock rose and Dave eased me off the platform. Now I faced an applauding audience. In front of me stood the red rubber clad figure of a devil, curled horns framing the devil face of his mask, and a rubber moulding of enormous genitalia at his crotch.
“Make your bow, love, and receive your satyr’s horns.” Dave wrapped his arms round my waist from behind, his codpiece pressed into my rear zip and the base of the plug in my butt. “You’re an absolute star!”
Awkwardly I obeyed, and the head harness enclosing my head was released. The red devil stepped forward and fitted a tight rubber hood to my head.
Jacques voice said, “Welcome to our service, Satyr Tom. Kiss your Master and accept your satyrhood.”
His enormous rubber penis was close to my face, so I kissed it, to applause, then stood and turned to face Dave, and put my arms round him and kissed him tenderly.
“Thank you, beloved.” I whispered as we parted. “It was fabulous.”
Already someone else was being selected to be inserted into trefoil as he steered me to the seat next to it. There seemed to be some kind of lottery for it.
“Come and sit next to me, my love.” Steering me to the bench seat between the trefoil arms, he seated me and then removed the muzzle. “Time for some refreshment,” he said as Jethro approached with champagne flutes and a plate of savouries. Taking the seat next to me he kissed my cheek. “Have I told you how much I love you?”
“Not since you finished imprisoning me in this suit,” I teased. “Was I okay as the ‘sacrifice’?”
“More than Okay … And you look amazing with that mask and the horns.” Pausing as he released my hands, still imprisoned in the mitts, he laughed. “You were, as always, fantastic, my love. Here let me release your hands—and here come the next offerings!”
With my hands free I could take a drink, to my surprise, not, as I’d thought, champagne.
“No love, alcohol isn’t a good idea mixed with bondage and rubber sex. This is a special tonic that replaces the minerals we lose and brings our systems back into balance—at least, that’s what our medical members tell me.”
It tasted like a champagne, but he was right, it did refresh me. On either side of us a sub was being put through his ‘masters’ choice of torment and I soon hardened up inside the thick rubber sheath. Dave laughed when I mentioned this. We’d finished eating and drunk a second refreshing glass, when he suggested we circulate a little and watch the ‘action’.
“Let me put your mitts on again,” he said as we stood, “And restrain you of course.” Laughing he added, “You know, you look absolutely amazing in this outfit.” The kiss took me by surprise. “Maybe I should keep you like this all the time.”
“Would you like to?” Holding out my hands so he could fit my mitts, I laughed. “If you want me to dress like this all the time, I will—just for you, my love.”
