Thursday, May 27, 2010

Iowa Farm Boy, Part VII

When we got back to the farm a note was stuck inside the screen door. The realtor had been to the farm and wanted Steve to call immediately. Steve placed the call and delivered the good news to me. While we were gone a young couple had come by, new teachers at the school which started in a couple of weeks, just after Labor Day. While they were reserving their total commitment until they saw inside the house and sheds he was pretty sure they wanted to make an offer on the farm. He was hoping to bring them by that afternoon.

We attacked the house and sheds with a manic energy, straightening up, cleaning up, and hiding all the gear in the sheds. Somehow we managed to get it all done. We rode the horses out to the far end of the property late that afternoon when the appointment had been made for the couple to visit again. We were both exhausted from the wild time in Omaha, the trip home, and the clean up. It was easy to curl up with Steve and we napped for a long time out in the shade of the trees by the creek.

When we got back to the house there was another note inside the screen door. The realtor said the couple were putting in an offer and he wanted Steve to come to town that night to read it over and sign it if he wanted to accept. When Steve got back to the house that night he was ecstatic.

“We’re moving to Omaha!” he roared. “They offered more than I ever dreamed. And it should go through quickly. We’re hoping to close the day after Labor Day. I’m still going to have to get a loan to buy the barbershop but even after paying the realtor’s fees we should clear about $30,000 on this place. I think the thing that sealed it for me was the fact they wanted to have the horses included in the sale. I love those horses, and I know that the horses love this farm. It has to be right.” He chucked me on the chin. “Good karma, kiddo!”

I’d never seen Steve this happy or excited. It was infectious. Steve was on the phone most of the night with Louis and Nastibear telling them the news. He talked with CD about working on the loan guy and about how much he needed to borrow. And he made plans with them for a final blow-out weekend over Labor Day out here at the farm.


We floated through the next two weeks. CD had called back telling us loan papers were being sent up. He also told us that there were about 50 guys planning on coming up on Friday night before Labor Day to spend the weekend. One of the times that Louis called, Steve was in town talking with the guy who owned the building where Steve was paying rent on the barbershop. Steve was going to lose a few hundred dollars since he was breaking the lease, but it was manageable. Because Steve wasn’t home when Louis called I had a chance to put a plan into action with Louis’ help and guidance. Louis was a hundred percent supportive of my idea and told me he’d work out the all the details.

On the Thursday before Labor Day we had our last day at the shop. A lot of men, knowing we were closing down had come by for a final haircut, and a final shoeshine. It was 7:00 before we could finally close and lock the door. We were both happily exhausted.

“C’mere, boy.” Steve held out his arms to me. I slid into them, easily and comfortably. He whispered in my ear, “Get naked, barberboy. I wanna get one more good use out of this shop.”

Steve stripped too while I was undressing. Minutes ago we were exhausted, now we both were on fire. Steve threw me in the chair and straddled me, licking my tits, biting them, shoving his tongue down my throat and deep-throating my cock. I was squirming in the chair, crying out with an amazing amount of passion. “I wanna try something a little new with my barberboy.” Steve pulled off me and headed for the back room. When he returned he was carrying a few short lengths of rope and the black leather gag I’d seen him use on CD. My cock did the unthinkable and bounced in front of me, precum dripping to the leather seat. Straddling me again, Steve tied each wrist to the arms of the chair. Another rope was brought around my chest, once above my tits and once below. Yet another rope tied my waist to the chair, and another held my feet in place on the foot rest of the chair. He quickly pushed the leather penis gag into my mouth and pulled the straps tight around my head.

Like a demon he was back on me, tongue to my tits, and mouth on my dick. I tried to move but found that he had tied all the ropes tightly. Squirming feverishly only seemed to make Steve work that much harder. As I squealed into the effective gag he dove into his work with even more energy. Steve was rock-hard, the bondage of his barberboy awakening new passions. I was very close to coming, squealing, squirming, breathing exceptionally fast and it all came to an abrupt halt.

Steve pulled his mouth off my cock and stood up, a twinkle in his eye. “Not yet.”

I was furious. I pleaded with my grunts and my eyes. I struggled against the ropes. I tried to push the gag out of my mouth. Just one more stroke, one more caress, one more lick and I would shoot. And Steve knew it and used it.

“I got one more thing I need to do, barberboy.” And over the next hour he shaved my body clean of every single hair I had. The crewcut I currently sported was gone, shaved to the skin. Every last armpit hair, gone. The stubble on my crotch, gone. He finally untied all the ropes, and positioned me on the chair with butt fully exposed. All the fine hair on my ass and in my crack, gone. When he was done, he wiped me clean with a wet towel and held me in front of him, in front of the mirror. Outside of my light, bleached by the sun, eyebrows and eyelashes I was as smooth as could be. My skin was covered with gooseflesh, tingling from the nakedness and the touch of Steve.

And we started again. Again, I was tied in the chair and gagged by that leather gag. And I was brought to the edge of cumming five more times, each time Steve pulling back at the critical moment. Finally he put a huge hawk of spit in his hand and slathered his hairy ass with it. He climbed carefully onto the chair, putting his legs over the arms and lowered his butt onto my dick. My dick was like a rod of steel by now. He started to ride me slowly, spit again into his hand, began stroking his cock, still riding my dick. Faster and faster he pumped, and in tempo he bounced on my dick, and together we shot, my load filling his ass, his hitting me in the face and covering my bare chest.

Steve pulled off me, bringing yet another yelp from me, muffled by the gag. He staggered back a few steps and looked me over top to bottom.

“What I really want to do is leave you there and start all over.” I was shocked. With my little remaining energy I tried to struggle again, hoping all the fucking had loosened my bondage. No such luck

“But you’re a lucky boy. I want to save something for our big weekend.”

And he let me free.

Friday afternoon the motorcycles and pickup trucks started arriving. Before long the farm took on an almost carnival-like atmosphere. Tents were set up everywhere, the barbecue was going strong, and nearly 50 men were involved in a variety of activities. One guy had been hung upside down from a big elm tree in the back yard. A couple of guys were hitting his butt with paddles like he was a pinata. In another corner of the backyard a man was being wrapped in plastic wrap and then covered with duct tape. When they finished they trussed him up and hung him horizontally from the clothes line. Currently he was serving as the dessert table.

The little kid I’d seen at the party in Omaha was there. I learned his name was Curt. He was naked from the waist down except for his boots, but strapped into a leather straitjacket from the waist up. A leather muzzle covered his face and a leather collar was pulled tightly around his neck. The man I assumed was his Master pulled him along by a leash.

One of the last pickups to arrive was driven by CD. His passenger was Louis. They were greeted quite happily by everyone as three kegs of beer filled the back of the pickup with bags and bags of ice packed around the kegs. They pulled the pickup directly into the backyard next to the “dessert table.” When Louis got out he spied me over at the barbecue, gave me a wink and a nod.

Steve had surprised me that morning with a little package at the breakfast table. The gift was a leather jockstrap. He told me that he wanted me in that for the entire weekend, the jock strap, my boots, and nothing else. I had no arguments, happily pulling the first piece of leather clothing I ever had over my hairless crotch and stiffening cock.

As the sun was going down we built a big bonfire in the backyard. Louis had pulled me away from my almost constant duties at the barbecue pit and sat me down by the fire. He put a protective arm around me and pulled me close. “You’re a good kid. I’m glad Steve found you up here in the cornfields.”

“Thank you, Sir.” I knew I was blushing and there wasn’t single hair on my body to cover it. “Sir told me about how you took him in. About how he was your barberboy.”

“Ah, shit. Wasn’t nothing. He was a hot little horny fucker. Just like you, kiddo, just like you.”

We sat there for a long time, just enjoying the warmth of the fire, and the warmth of each other. It was probably an hour later when the sun had gone down fully that Steve came over and sat with us. I was on Louis’ left, Steve to his right. After a few minutes Steve whispered something in Louis’ ear which brought an immediate chuckle from Louis. Steve hoisted Louis to his feet, and together they grabbed me by each arm and drug me to the shed.

A lot of the men were around the fire and hooted and hollered as I was being drug along. A new energy was filling the night, a raw sexual energy.

In the shed Steve and Louis removed my jock strap and quickly bound my hands with leather restraints. They were clipped together, a rope attached, and the rope pulled through a pulley hanging from a beam above me. As the rope was pulled my hands were lifted high above my head. More leather restraints were added to my ankles. More rope pulled my legs far apart and held them there.

Steve stood directly in front of me, Louis directly behind me. A good-sized number of men had gathered in the dark corners of the shed to watch the activities. Steve started working on my tits. Just three months ago these had been tiny nubs on my flat chest. With daily squeezing, licking, chewing and pulling they had grown considerably, filling with scar tissue. Steve made me squirm as he twisted them. Behind me Louis slapped my ass with his arthritic hands, lightly at first, but growing in intensity.

Almost on cue they stopped and stepped back. Steve went to one wall where his whips and floggers hung. Selecting a leather deerskin flogger he came back to me and allowed the multiple strands of soft leather to caress my skin. He passed the flogger over my shoulder to Louis who was standing behind me. He stepped up to me and grabbed my face and thrust his tongue into my mouth. After a long kiss he said simply, “Be sure to thank Master Barber for each and every stroke he gives you.”

Steve pulled off his chaps and jeans and took a chair placed about 10 feet in front of me, fondling his cock. I was gazing at his perfect hairy body when I felt the first sting of the flogger on my back. I gasped for air. It was an amazing feeling. Even with the air gone from me I managed a weak, “Thank you, Master Barber.”

Over the next hour I must have said that same phrase a thousand times. Louis would alternate his strokes, first the right top quadrant of my back, then the left. Sometimes the strokes were predictable in rhythm and I grew to anticipate them. As soon as this happened he changed the rhythm, keeping me completely off balance. When he felt I was in danger of going beyond my threshold he would back off completely and after resting just a bit he would start again with renewed vigor. While many of his strikes were indeed painful and caused me to scream, before long I pulled above this pain. I imagined myself climbing a mountain, encouraging myself to reach the pinnacle, telling myself that the view from the top would be worth the agony of the climb. I stopped fighting the pain and allowed it to enter me, and I rode the waves of endorphins that filled me.

And like that the flogger went silent. I was still soaring. I could feel the molecules of air dancing on my back. I opened my eyes and Steve was in front of me. Behind me Louis was moving his hands barely an inch away from my skin. This alone was enough to keep the air swirling over my the welts. I could feel my every inhale fill me from my toes to the crown of my naked head.

Slowly Steve crouched and begin licking my dick. A pool of precum had gathered on the floor below me, a string of it still hanging from my slit. Behind me a spit covered finger was working its way into my ass. I could no longer speak, to thank them, I could only moan deep guttural animal sounds.

Louis whispered in my ear, “Good barberboy,” over and over again like a mantra. A second and third finger worked their way in. Steve took more and more of my dick into his mouth. Fingers were pulled out and a fat cock replaced them. A hairy chest pressed against my bloody back reawakening each and every blow. And Louis’ cock thrust harder and deeper with each of my cries. And as he fucked me my dick slipped further and further into Steve’s mouth. Louis now wrapped both arms tightly around my chest and gave a few last hard thrusts before pulling his dick from my butt. He stepped back, grabbed his cock, gave it three hard tugs and shot a load on my back. Feeling that hot sperm traveling down my back, I exploded into Steve’s mouth, screaming until my throat was on fire and I had no energy left to scream.

I hung there, catching my breath, coming back to earth. As my consciousness came back I heard sounds all around me. In the shadows of the room men were sucking, fucking, moaning, growling, jacking off and cumming. I had totally forgotten they were even in the room.

With great tenderness Louis and Steve released me from my bondage. We walked out into the cool evening. Together they helped me into the house, up the stairs, and into bed. That night I slept between them, protected and comforted, and safe.

Saturday was just plain fun. More guys arrived at the farm, more tents were pitched, more beer was purchased and I met so many of the men who would finally come to be our friends in Omaha. Many of the men who had been in the shed during my flogging came up to hug me, rub my shiny head and tell me how hot a scene it had been. My back was still glowing but I was proud of my stripes. As I had been told to do, all I wore was my leather jock strap and boots. I was growing comfortable in my near nudity in front of all these men.

We had defrosted every piece of meat we had in the freezer and bought a good deal more, and Saturday night we barbecued steaks and hamburgers for hours. Nastibear had taken over the kitchen and made about 20 pounds of potato salad and another 20 pounds of coleslaw. Another bonfire was built that night as the sun went down and those who had the energy started moving into the trees and off to the shed for a second night of debauchery. Young as I was and almost always horny, I knew I didn’t have it in have me for a third night of wild sex. I enjoyed sitting by the fire with Louis hearing him talk about what it was like to be gay in Omaha in the 40s and 50s, and how leathermen had slowly come to carve their niche in the scene there.

Curt and his Master had come by earlier. The Master had talked with Steve privately and together they had led Curt to the shed. I guessed that a whipping scene had been arranged.

Louis asked me, “You jealous?”

“I don’t think so, Sir. Maybe a little, but I know Steve must be horny too, and, I don’t know, I guess I believe that maybe while he’s whipping that boy, maybe he’s thinking a little about me.... And believe me, I couldn’t take another whipping for a few days, although I’d try in heartbeat if Steve asked me to. And well, I’m sort of happy for Curt to experience the gift that Steve has. He may have one chance. I hope I have a thousand.”

Louis put his big hand on the back of my neck. “Good answer. That’s a good place to keep your head.” He changed the subject. “You ready for tomorrow?”

“Yes, Sir. You don’t think Steve will be mad that I arranged this?”

“I think Steve will approve completely. You’ll see.”

Sunday morning I was up early and started cooking breakfast with a vengeance. My cast iron pans went non-stop from 9:00 until noon. By then we had over 70 hungry men at the farm. Louis had been very careful in the arrangements for that afternoon, making sure everyone knew when and where they had to be that afternoon. I showered, saddled one of the horses, and rode to the back of the property where the creek was trickling along, and the flat rock sat at creekside. Quite a few of the men had walked here earlier, many more arrived by bike after I arrived. At 2:00 a last bike, Steve’s, came roaring over the small hill that hid this quiet glen. Handling the bike with expertise was Louis; Steve rode on the seat behind him wearing only his chaps and boots.

They pulled to a stop near where I stood on the flat rock. Steve dismounted and looked around, clearly perplexed by what was going on. He walked over to me. I knelt.

“Sir. I would like to wear your collar, Sir.” I was almost whispering.

He was stunned. He took a step back and looked at Louis still sitting on his bike. I was afraid he was going to say no, to leave me there kneeling on that rock. He stepped back up.

“You would do that for me?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You understand fully what that means?”

“I think so, Sir”

“If I ask you to go give blowjobs to every single man watching this moment, you’d do it? For me?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And if I tell you that I’m going to fuck every single one of those men, which I might since they kept this a secret from me, you would let me go and fuck them? No questions asked? No guilt, no shame, no jealousy?”

“If Sir asks me not to be jealous I will do everything in my power to control that, Sir.”

“If I choose to collar seven more boys who will live with us and also serve me, you will accept them as your brothers and equals?”

“If Sir asks me to do so I will not say no.”

Louis climbed off the bike and withdrew a chain and padlock from his pocket. He handed it to Steve. Steve was shocked to see the tag hanging from the chain. He held the chain and looked closely at the tag. I could see it was hard for him to breathe.

He placed the chain around my neck, pulled the end loops through the padlock and clicked the padlock shut. Hanging next to the padlock was a small tag engraved simply with “barberboy.”

Steve pulled me from kneeling on the rock, placed his hands on my face and kissed me. It was a simple peck. And he pulled away, looked at me again, and proceeded to kiss me again and again. I hugged him tightly and he wrapped his arms around me. Nastibear and CD grabbed a long rope and began running around us in opposite directions until we were almost covered with rope, tightly bound together. As they were doing this the 70 spectators were roaring with encouragement and laughter, honking the horns on their bikes, and revving noisy engines. When fully bound, Nasti and CD got several volunteers to help them carry us squirming, pleading and laughing back to the farmhouse. It took almost an hour to get back as several crews of volunteers were needed to manage the squirming weight of Sir and me. A trail of drunk men, horny men, hairy men, and leather men followed us on foot and bike. It was joyous.

As we pulled into the backyard, Steve and I were lifted from the shoulders of the fifth and final crew who had undertaken the task of carrying us back. We were set firmly on the ground and Steve gave me a final kiss. I looked up and out of the corner of my eye I saw my father standing next to the house, his dirty John Deere cap on his head, his farmer’s tanned face turned white with what he had seen. Without a word he turned and walked around the house. I could hear the start of a pickup engine and the sound it made driving down the lane. Steve had seen it all as well. He nodded to CD and Nasti and the rope was unwound from around us.

He pulled me close to him and took me inside, up the stairs and into the bedroom. We sat on the edge of the bed.

“Are you okay?” he finally asked.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” Somehow I’d forgotten to address him as Sir. I kept replaying the view of my father turning his back on me. I couldn’t really blame him.

“Do you want to go? Talk to him maybe?”

“Not ever, Sir.” A door had closed in my life. I was much happier that a door had opened with my commitment to Steve. Steve held me close to him. I felt safe in his arms and while grieving for the family I no longer had, I was filled with the joy of the family I’d joined.

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