[Part 5 of The Scott Chronicles appeared in Issue 38, January/February 1994]
5.
The Throne Room
After two or three years in town, I started looking for a place out in the suburbs so Scott could have a garden. I found a big place, with old fashioned parquet floors, high ceilings, fireplaces, and a garden. We had a happy month furnishing it. On the third floor was an unfinished bedroom, which we turned into Scott’s throne room. The main staircase had 18 steps: we anointed those stairs the Torture Stairs, where I would be slowly slid down, with my bulging crotch catching painfully on each stair. The basement was a full basement, with a large stone pillar in the center. This became the Slave’s dungeon. The curious thing was that in the basement Scott became the slave, and I the master. The complicated scenarios I wrote started with Scott’s submission in the basement, and my submission in the third floor Throne Room. A typical scenario would start with Scott chained like a male slave, torn clothes, shredded shirt (Scott always stiffened at torn t-shirts). A key would be “inadvertently” left where Scott could reach it, and unlock his padlocks. Then on the second floor, I would be captured, hogtied, and tortured. Finally we’d end up in the Throne Room.
The Throne Room was repainted a pure white, with mirrors on one wall. The opposite wall had hooks to hang chains and ropes on, a table with other bondage gear, gags, etc. The Throne faced the door, and the wall beside the door had the seven-page sex contract between Scott and myself, neatly framed, and at eye level, so you could walk along the wall, reading the framed pages of the sex contract.
I got Scott a crown from a stage props store, and a gold medal he could hang around his neck. We usually used the crown only in coronation ceremonies, mostly when Scott was in the throne he was tied up, and the crown got in the way of the Slobber Lusting. He usually always wore the medal though.
The Throne was an ornate, sort of Louis XIV type chair, which sat on a small, raised dais. A runner type rug ran from the dais to the floor. As you opened the door, you saw the Throne, and if you were lucky like me, you saw Scott bound rigidly with rope into the chair, his legs spread, and the bulge in his black Speedos of truly memorable hugeness. You then knelt at the end of the runner, and requested permission to grovel before the boy-sex-king. Taking his grunt for a yes, you then approached and for the next hour or so, you kissed him, slobbered on his neck and tits, stroked him, and finally pulled the Speedos off his curving and bent erection with your teeth so that your mouth and throat would be used for the pleasure of the tied-up Sex Hunk. By this time the Speedos were very wet with my drooling and working with my tongue and lips on the panels of the Speedos, and the still-covered curve in the crotch of the tied-up Male Sex Rod. Sometimes I could even jam my head between the back of the chair and the seat (there was a small aperture there), and lust with my tongue at the hairs in the cleft of the boy-king’s ass, still Speedo-covered, but not entirely.
Increasingly, Scott liked to be tied up in the throne while the sex session went on, and therefore he ended up roped, and I was not. We probably would have been tying him up long before, but Scott was a laconic guy, and you couldn’t get him to talk much about what he liked. And since he obviously loved spreadeagling me with rope, and fucking my ass for hours with his gigantic prong, we didn’t have to talk much.
But anyway, the instant hugeness of Scott’s erection as I tied him up to the Throne testified pretty clearly to his enjoyment. And one Saturday night we got into heavily sexual bondage which I still remember with pleasure.
It was spring, I think, and Scott and I had been having dinner, and I was anticipating being roped and gagged like a male whore for Scott to fuck. When we went to the bedroom, I stripped first, down to my Speedos, and went to service Scott, as I always did: first kneeling to take his shoes off, then his shirt, then the belt on the jeans, slowly slipping them down his legs. Then the long kiss with my hand exploring Scott’s too-small, straining Speedos, and the hard curve of his bent fuck pole. But this night, as I made a slight move to the bed, he resisted ever so faintly, but if you’ve known a guy’s body for years, you pick up his message. Obviously he wanted to do something else.
“You want to be tied up, Scott?”
He hesitated for a fraction of a second, and nodded.
Trembling with excitement, I picked up some rope (rope was in every room of Scott’s house), and swiftly tied his wrists behind his back. In the darkened bedroom, lit only by an outside light and one in the hall, this Marky Mark body with its strong arms tied with rope behind its back and the huge curve of the Speedos in its crotch was an incredible sensuous piece of young male manhood.
Up we went to the Throne Room, empty except for the throne and its runner, and of course, the ropes, chains, etc., hanging from hooks on the walls. Scott sat down, sliding his arms over the back of the chair. To complete the basic bondage, I tied his wrists down to a chair rung, and pulled his legs as far as I could, lifting them up off the floor and binding them with rope to the back of the chair.
Scott wasn’t going anywhere, and I, Scott’s ultimate sex & crotch slave, I was rockhard with the excitement of Scott tied up, and his body in my control. I placed the candles from the dining room table on the floor, on Scott’s left & right, and lit them. I then turned out the electric lights, and watched the candle glow reflect off Scott’s taut, male hide, his chest, bound arms, legs, and the shadow on one leg caused by the monster bulge in Scott’s Speedos. As I had pulled his legs back, I watched the curve measurably grow, and I knew without having to read the owner’s manual, that Scott was in a definite sex lust for rope. I obliged him.
Knowing now that he wanted it bad, I continued tying him with rope, with deliberate slowness. His erection forced into a curve by the nylon was completely out of his reach and his control, so I could take my time. First I finished his arms by tying the elbows together, and bringing a loop around him, under his tits. He grunted slightly as I tied the knot. Next I moved down his body to his legs. In tying the legs the way I did, I had pulled Scott’s body forward on the chair so that his ass was positioned close to the front edge of the seat, the legs bent and pulled back. This had the effect of emphasizing his crotch so that all attention was immediately focused on the straining Speedos, which were lifted away from the body by the monster cock underneath. I saw Scott looking down at his erection, and I decided to really subdue him. I rope-gagged him with a coil of rope; he resisted at first, but soon I had the coil inside his mouth with a nice wide strip of tape all the way around Scott’s head. Over the tape I tied another rope, knotting it behind his head. Then I took its loose end and brought it down behind the chair, pulling Scott’s head back, and I tied that end to a chair rung. Scott’s body was nice and straight from his knees up to his head, his neck, chest, and crotch being wide open and vulnerable. Scott loved it. I knew, because he started thrusting, as little as he could, his hips out towards me. I took care of that with rope. Two ropes went around his legs, and then were slid up the legs into the crotch and tied over the hips to the chair back. Two more ropes went on the thighs, just above the knees, and were also pulled back and tied to the chair behind him. Then I ran rope under the chair seat to Scott’s legs, pulling them tight under the chair, so that his legs were pulled in two different directions at once.
Scott’s lower body might have been poured in concrete, for the ability he had to move it. He tried thrusting again, but his ass was firmly locked into place. Unbelievably, the massive male erection he had grew a little bit more, or so it seemed to me. Scott deliberately wore Speedos one size too small for his 28" waist; he had bound his cock and balls with thongs, and it was obvious from the outline and the feel in the nylon that one thong was tied around the head of his cock, forcing it not only into a Speedo curve but a leather-thong curve, so his cock was doubly tied up. And I had no intention of freeing it any time soon.
I looked at this guy. His body was bent, roped, spread, and straining. Packs of muscle shifted across his shoulders and back, as he tried to deal with the rigidity of his bondage. The gag held his head in place, and he grunted with effort into the rope coil. The obscenely huge bulge in his crotch was very tempting, but Scott wasn’t into heavy-duty cock & ball torture, so I devoted myself to his body, trying to whip him into a white-hot lust. (Later he tied me in the same way, and worked exclusively on my crotch until I screamed and gurgled into my gag. Different story.) He white-hotted in a hurry as I caressed, licked and kissed his neck, munched on his tits, used my hands to smoothly caress his chest, abdomen, and the side panels of his Speedos.
I could tell he loved it and that he was in heat, because the erection stood huge and bent like a monument on a battlefield (which Scott’s body was!), and despite the rigidity of the bondage, Scott was able to heave and thrust a little in the ropes. The candles on each side of him gave the scene a religious aura, as if the throne were the altar and Scott its trussed and waiting male captive. Naked except for the Speedos, Scott was a gorgeous sight.
Finally I got down to the crotch, and ran my hands under the Speedos, caressing the hairs at the base of the massive fuck tool, lifting the Speedos slowly away until the leather-thonged package proudly jutted out, its head and shaft still bent in a curve by the thongs. The shaft was released, and Scott’s erect meat stood out, a glistening, shining, rockhard shaft, its balls still bound and held tightly by the thongs. I had, some years before, finally learned how to take all of Scott’s manhood down my throat, feeling what we called Scott’s Second Erection, which choked and gagged me. So I worked on Scott, taking his male hugeness, and listening with real pleasure to Scott’s grunting. I was free, and he was tied up, but he was being served, just as he always was. It was real fun to choke on Scott’s fuck pole, and feel the hairs of his crotch on my lips, as the glistening shaft slowly entered my mouth and throat.
Then, with what thrust Scott could manage, I felt the Second Erection coming, and increased my tempo on Scott’s tool. His grunting increased, my hands felt sweat on his muscled hide, and then the massive culmination, which quickly filled my choking mouth, and continued to spurt on to my face and chest. With my mouth still in Scott’s crotch, I remained on my knees, and jerked myself off in overpowering sexual lust. I had truly been baptized once again as Scott’s male crotch slave and personal male whore.
Another of the many things we practised a lot was the waiting game, which increased both our enjoyments of the sex. Scott, for instance, on a day he knew I was coming, would get up early, tie his cock and balls with leather thongs, and cram them in Speedos. He would then put on tit clamps, and put on very tight jeans and a muscle shirt. He would then work around the house; if it were spring or summer, he’d do yardwork, anything so he got hot, sweaty, and dirty. By the time I came, the tit clamps had fueled a heavy lust to the tightly secured cock and balls, and my exploratory fingers while I kissed him inevitably made a rigid discovery.
My waiting was always done tied up, either to a chair, face down on a bed, whatever. The longer I was forced to wait for Scott’s cock, the more I male-lusted into it when it stiffened in my mouth or ass. Sometimes I would surprise him by entering the house very early in the morning, and chaining myself up in the basement, and wait for him to wake up, and come downstairs. He would see my car in the driveway, and come down to the basement to fuck me hard against the cold stone floor.
Scott spent nearly seven years in that house.
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