“Yeah, jerk him off. If you want. Let me be clear: All you’re required to do is hose him down and send him to the bunkhouse. The rest is up to you.”
Brian took a black nytril glove from a box on the table and pulled it onto his right hand. Then he ran his gloved hand down Trey’s muscled abdomen and wrapped it around the ponyboy’s engorged cock, stroking it a few times.
Whoa. I waited for the cheesy porno music to start and was a little surprised when it didn’t.
I looked at Callum’s cock, and then back up to his desperate brown eyes, then turned and walked away, closing my eyes for a second and making my hands into fists.
When I opened my eyes and grabbed the bottle of lube from the table, Callum made an excited sound behind his ball gag. I grabbed a glove from the box and squirted some lube into Brian’s outstretched hand. Orgasms were good for people, and after three hours of working hard for their trainers, these ponyboys deserved a break. At least, I figured they did.
I pulled on the glove, snapping it deliberately as Callum jerked in surprise and Brian chuckled.
“Work it, Jensen. God, you’re gonna drive these ponyboys crazy with your attitude.”
Then, as Brian began to jerk Trey in earnest, now he had a slippery hand to work with, I moved in close to Callum and wrapped my hand around him firmly. “Let’s watch for a sec.”
Callum moaned, trying to thrust into my grip, but I let him go and chastised him. “No. You stay still if you want my attention. We’re going to watch. Then, maybe I’ll give you what you want.”
I was starting to get off on this whole dominance/submission angle. I kinda liked it.
Liv chuckled as I wrapped my hand around his cock again, and Callum struggled not to thrust his hips. “Very good, Jensen. Show him who’s boss.”
We watched as Brian efficiently brought Trey to his release. The ponyboy shuddered as his cock spurted white semen over Brian’s gloved fist, satisfied groans echoing off the barn walls.
Callum whimpered against his restraints, frantic from trying not to shove his cock into my grip. Finally, I gave him a soft kiss on the shoulder and began to stroke him.
“What a good boy. Now you can move. Fuck my hand, and I’ll make you come, ponyboy.”
It wasn’t like I’d never jerked off another guy. And it wasn’t like it took much to jerk off a guy who’d been desperate to come for hours. But I was surprised by how quickly I was able to get Callum ready to shoot.
After a few strokes, Callum groaned and spurted over my hand, closing his eyes and grimacing with relief. The fluid kept coming, and I kept stroking until I’d drained him. He shuddered and sagged in his bindings. His eyelids fluttered, and he gazed at me with something approaching reverence.
“Holy fuck, kid. I think you’re a natural,” Brian muttered, picking up the hose and turning the nozzle to produce a wide spray. “I can see I’m leaving the ponyboys in good hands.” He nodded at my dripping glove. “Literally.”
I released Callum’s spent prick and disposed of the glove while Brian sprayed warm water over the three ponyboys and hosed them clean from their day’s work.
“We hose them? No soap or rubdowns?” I asked.
“No,” Liv said. “They can shower back at the bunkhouse if they want to. It’s more important to ensure they’re clean for their trainers. When the trainers are done with them, they only need the worst of the muck cleaned off.”
When the ponyboys were clean, they were unbound, ungagged, and sent behind the partition to dress and leave for the day.
“What do they do all afternoon? There weren’t any guys in the bunkhouse yesterday when I got there.”
Brian nodded. “Yeah, they’re encouraged to do some service at the main house. Cleaning, washing dishes, cooking—whatever they like to do and are willing to do. They’re paid and the money comes off their membership fee.”
I nodded. It was brilliant, really.
“Most of them would engage in service as part of the submissive experience anyway, so to be paid for it is a bonus. And they get to do it in their street clothes, not plugged and harnessed, which might happen occasionally as a severe punishment for some violation of house rules or something. It’s not unheard of here.”
“Nope,” Liv agreed. “If you ever see a ponyboy in full pony gear cleaning the main house, you know they did something very, very naughty. And they aren’t paid for a punishment, obviously.”
I felt my gut clench as I imagined it. What a debasement, to have to go over to the main house dressed as a fetish pony and spend your morning or afternoon scrubbing floors and cleaning bathrooms. These people were fucking sadistic. And brilliant.
“You hungry?” Liv asked me.
“Starving.”
“There are sandwiches, salads and drinks in the fridge here for us every day,” Liv said, beckoning me over. “Looks like tuna salad, chicken salad or ham and cheese today. What do you fancy?”
