Chapter 6 – Chapter 6

Angelo had been so hyper about how quickly and deeply he had been dropped into male-on-male sex when Brett wanted to go to sleep that the American had suggested that the Italian take a sedative that he offered. This had immediately worked and had kept Angelo so under that when he woke, he discovered he no longer was in Brett's bed but was in a private gym of some sort, with a lot of fancy exercise equipment around. He himself was lying on his back, naked, on some sort of vinyl cube affair and Brett, also naked, was hunched over him, fiddling with some sort of band around his wrist, attaching it to a bound ankle. His ankles already were pulled back toward his waist at the side of the vinyl cube and cuffed to the side of the cube—and his buttocks were raised at the end of the cube.

"What?" Angelo mumbled, still half dazed.

"Do you trust me?" Brett asked. "You must trust me. This is for you. You said to me once that you wanted to leave here. Maybe go to America. We talked about films. Do you want opportunities?"

"Yes, but . . . why am I bound? What are you . . .?"

Brett was attaching Angelo's second wrist in a cuff to the cuff of the ankle already pulled back at one side of the cube.

"You want me to fuck you again don't you?"

"Yes, please. But . . ."

"Lay there and enjoy it as well—and as vocally—as you did in the grotto. We're being watched. You need to trust me."

Brett disappeared from Angelo's sight between his legs, although one of the American's hands remained encircling the Italian's cock and stroking it likely.

Angelo began to moan as he felt Brett's lips and tongue start to work the rim of his hole.

"Oh, fuck. Oh shit yes. Fuck me," Angelo was mouthing when Brett was crouched over him, his hands working Angelo's nipples and his cock working Angelo's ass. Angelo was moving his hips and raising and lowering them with leverage off the balls of his cuffed feet at the side of the cube to help maximize the still-engaged withdrawal and then the deep plunge of Brett's cock inside him—again and again and again. They were working as one unit despite Angelo being held totally captive by the cuffs.

Angelo was crying out that he was about to come, when Brett stopped and held him close and motionless. "No, you're not," he whispered in Angelo's ear. "Not yet. Stay with me here. This is important to you."

After Angelo's moment of explosion had passed without an ejaculation, Brett raised off him, although still encased in his channel, and reached over a pulled a small, rolling table toward him.

Looking over at that, Angelo's eyes opened wide. "Nooo, pleassse," he pleaded. He began to squirm as violently as his bounds would permit, as Brett held his hard cock firmly and waved a thin sounding wand over the glans.

"You will take this even if we have to give you a sedative again to quiet you down," Brett said in a firm voice. "We are here to please Dodo, and he will get what he wants. If you don't fight it, you will have pleasure as well. If you do fight it, you may be ruined. Do you understand? You must trust me. This will be unbelievably arousing to you. The ultimate fuck. You take this well, and you have a bright future. Are you going to settle down?"

"Please don't. Please let me go."

Brett was holding Angelo's cock firmly and the cold tip of the wand was at Angelo's piss slit, moving around the hole, caressing the rim of the entrance.

"Relax. This needs to go in at the right angle, if you don't want to be ruined. Lay back and enjoy it. But Dodo must know that you will be totally ours. Doors will open to you, but only if you give over total control."

With a sigh of resignation, Angelo collapsed into the vinyl cube. But he was arching his back again, panting heavily, and straining at the cuffs on his ankles and wrists when the American pressed the tip of the wand into the slit opening and then moved it deeper.

"Oh fuck, nooo," Angelo moaned.

"Relax. Breath normally. You'll love it. It's already in. There's nothing to fight anymore."

Angelo panted and moaned, but he did relax back into the cube. He gasped as Brett brought the wand out and then pressed back in. Out and in; out and in.

"Ahhhhhhh."

"Enjoying it now, aren't you?"

Brett released Angelo's cock, leaving the wand buried inside. He laced his fingers through Angelo's balls and distended them. His other hand went to roaming Angelo's chest. "You have such a beautiful body. You deserve to be in films," the American murmured. He began to pump Angelo's channel with his cock.

Ten minutes later, the bulb of Brett's condom filled out inside Angelo, and he pulled out.

Now what? Angelo thought. Does the wand come out?

Now what was Doran Kokinos appearing from the shadows and taking up the station the Brett had withdrawn from. And, yes, the wand came out. But only to be replaced by a thicker wand. Doran's cock was thicker than Brett's too. Not as long, but quite definitely thicker, and Angelo only having been taken by Brett this far tensed his body, arched his head back, rolled his eyeballs up toward his eyebrows, and whimpered a low and ineffective plea to be released as a thicker cock worked hard to possess his channel and a thicker wand worked its way into Angelo's urethra tube.

Kokinos, for all his gnome-like ugliness and coarseness, was a far more masterful cocksman and sounding manipulator than the American was. By closing his eyes and just going with varied rhythms and angles of the Greek's cocking, the working of his free hand on Angelo's body, and the off-beat probing of his piss channel with the thicker wand—and the even thicker one after that—Angelo was lifted to new heights of arousal that he could not deny had him dancing on clouds.

After twice begging for release and being denied, Kokinos let Angelo come during the fourth stage of the wands. The Greek had not come, however.

He called Brett over and told him he could release Angelo. "You may have him for the day. Teach him the positions you know I like. He will do very nicely. He will be in my bed tonight."

Brett released an exhausted Angelo, slung him over his shoulder, and took him out of the exercise room en route to his bedroom. As they were leaving, Angelo lifted his eyes from the floor and caught a glimpse of Kokinos, his thick cock still hard and curved up, approaching another apparatus. Angelo saw Guido, his legs raised and spread wide, cuffed at the ankles on frame. He was naked, on his back, and his cock was standing straight up—with two wands protruding from the piss slit. Angelo heard the other young Italian fisherman cry out, as the Greek moved between his legs, thrust his hips forward and up, and began to pump.

That night, although smaller than Angelo, the Greek was solid muscle and much more powerful than young Italian. He slung the younger man around in countless positions—more than Brett had shown Angelo over the afternoon—and showed over and over again throughout the night that he could come again and again—and could make Angelo do so as well.

At first Angelo was disconcerted by the flashes going off around the bed periodically in a constant rhythm, but he grew used to it—just as he increasingly became addicted to the Greek tycoons expert fucking. By dawn, when the Greek told him that Brett would drive him back to his boat in the Positano harbor, Angelo didn't want anything as much as the Greek's cock inside him, working its magic.