If he had permanent damage, Cavan was effectively a eunuch.

Biton’s fingers fumbled for the release but couldn’t find one. “Cavan, I want this off. How does it come off?”

The body against Biton tensed. “My Master said I couldn’t take it off. Only to shave.”

Biton pulled his hand free of Cavan’s jeans. Using both hands to cup the pale freckled face, Biton forced Cavan to look him in the eyes.

A hasty decision but one made, nonetheless. “Cavan, listen to me carefully. He is not your Master anymore. This afternoon, I’ll draw up a contract between you and me outlining your responsibilities and mine.” Seeing his eyes flare with hope and joy, it nearly killed Biton to put a damper on it. “It will be a temporary one. Thirty days. During this time, you are mine. You will obey me, you will follow my rules not your old Master and you will behave as I see fit. If you don’t, you will be punished. I, on the other hand, am responsible for your safety, your health and your living conditions.” Squeezing Cavan’s face gently, Biton continued, “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes, Master.” Tears filled Cavan’s eyes.

“Okay, the first thing I’m ordering you to do is remove the cock ring. You will only wear one if and when I say so. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master,” Cavan said, breathless as he pulled away from Biton. Dropping his pants without hesitation or the slightest embarrassment, Cavan fumbled with the tight strap around his penis and balls. It turned out to be stretchable, like a large rubber band.

Biton shuddered at the thought. He had read once where rams were castrated using a similar method. “Take off your shoes and finish removing your jeans. I want to examine you.”

Cavan quickly complied and stood in front of Biton in only his shirt and socks.

It would look silly if the situation wasn’t so serious.

Biton caressed the flaccid circumcised penis, pale like the rest of Cavan’s skin. Pulling the limp flesh gently first to one side and then the other, he examined the darker skin where the ring had been. Curiously, Cavan didn’t react. Looking up, Biton saw the tension in Cavan’s shoulders and neck. “Does my touching you hurt?”

“No, Master.”

“Does it excite you at all?”

“I’m not supposed to be excited. My Master said...”

Biton slid one hand around to Cavan’s ass and swatted one cheek. Excitement flowed through Biton and straight to his still hard cock. “I’m your Master now. Remember. You do as I say.” Another swat for good measure sent fire through Biton.

“Yes, Master. What should I do? How can I serve?”

Holding the still limp flesh of his new slave’s penis, Biton suckled gently on the tip. He could feel the shudder race through Cavan. Smiling as he pulled away, “I want you hard, aching and begging for my touch.”

Slowly, the soft flesh began to stiffen.

Biton licked the head, teasing the slit with the tip of his tongue. Another hard swat brought a moan from above and further evidence Cavan’s cock didn’t have permanent damage.

Biton licked and nipped around the swelling crown. His fingers found the silky shaven texture of Cavan’s balls irresistible. Rolling the slowly tightening sacs, Biton swallowed the rising cock, enjoying the feel of the erection hardening in his mouth.

“Master...” The word came out as a whimper, the first audible sign of Cavan’s enjoyment.

Biton pulled away long enough to speak. “What, Cavan? What do you want?”

“To serve you,” he moaned.

After one last taste of the hard flesh, Biton stood up. Pulling Cavan close, he kissed him hard, teeth clashing and tongue driving deep into his mouth.

The sudden move unbalanced the younger man. Instinctively he wrapped his arms around Biton to keep from falling. Their bodies met with brute force, hard cocks pressed tight between them.

Not wanting to relinquish Cavan’s mouth, Biton moved them slowly toward the playroom. As he pushed the door open and manhandled Cavan through it, Biton’s passion faltered briefly. Since Erik died, Biton rarely came in here. The memories were too painful.

The desperate hands clutching the back of his shirt quickly brought his mind back to the present.

Aching for relief, Biton moved Cavan to the nearest piece of equipment, a large leather sling. Pushing Cavan into it, still dressed in only his shirt and socks, Biton quickly secured his wrists and ankles in the shackles.

Bending over his now captive slave, Biton kissed him hard as his fingers tore at the buttons of Cavan’s shirt. Fumbling in his desire, he straightened up, grabbed both sides of the shirt and yanked. Buttons flew exposing the pale freckled chest.

Rapid breath and clenched fists were the only signs, beyond the rigid cock, of Cavan’s arousal. No moans, no pleas, no sounds. Wainwright must have required silence. Biton did not.

“Talk to me, Cavan. Tell me what you’re feeling.” Biton pinched a tiny nipple, a gentle nip. “Does this feel good?”

“Yes, Master.”

A small moan escaped with the words and made Biton smile.

“Listen to me carefully, Cavan. I am your new Master. With the exception of obedience, all the rules Wainwright had are gone. You will learn my ways. Understand?” Biton tweaked the hardening nipple again, this time with a little more pressure.

“Yes, Master.”

“One of my rules, unless I tell you to be silent, I want to hear you when we play. I want to hear your moans, your cries. How can I know what I’m doing is good for you if you don’t tell me?”

“Yes, Master.” This time the moan exhaled was louder.

Taking Cavan’s swollen, leaking cock in his hand and stroking slowly, Biton leaned over until his lips almost touched Cavan’s ear. “I want you to feel pleasure in the pain,” he whispered.

“Yes... Master...”

Reaching with his other hand, Biton pinched a now tight nipple hard. “Tell me what you feel.”

“G--good--Master. Good...”

The stammered word made Biton smile. He already decided to stick with pinches and openhanded blows. Until Cavan was retrained, anything rougher could be dangerous. Cavan might not tell him to stop if things went too far.

With a final twisting stroke to the leaking cock, Biton walked over to the toy chest. Small implements of pain, clamps, floggers and the like, were stored in the drawers of a tall dresser. Condoms and various lubes were stashed there as well. Grabbing lube and a condom, Biton eyed some of the nipple clamps. A pair of loose ones maybe? The kind he used as warm up for tighter ones. Snagging the clamps, he turned back to Cavan.

Tear filled pale green eyes watched him.

“What’s wrong, Cavan?” Biton strode quickly back to the sling bound slave. Depositing his goodies on the leather beside Cavan, Biton stroked the bright red hair. “Talk to me.”

“My--my cock, Master. Hurts.”

Kissing the tears mixed with sweat sliding down Cavan’s face, Biton whispered, “When was the last time you were allowed to come?”

“Not allowed...”

“You are now.” A flare of anger engulfed Biton. Sometimes Biton had denied Erik but only to draw out the pleasure. Not allowing him to come at all was unthinkable. How could Wainwright deny his slave something so basic? The scene wasn’t about torture for the sake of torture. It was about pain for pleasure in like-minded people, the pleasure of inflicting it and the pleasure of receiving. Biton wondered if Cavan really enjoyed pain or if he was just conditioned to it.

Grabbing the lube, Biton moved around the sling and between Cavan’s legs. After lubing the fingers of his left hand, Biton reached for the swollen cock with his right. “You’ll come for me.” Bending his face to the angry red flesh, Biton suckled the tip as his lubed finger sought Cavan’s puckered hole. “Come for me now, Cavan. I want to taste you.”

Working his finger in the tight passage as his mouth sucked the head of the hot cock, Biton tasted a gush of pre-come. His thumb pressed against the perineum as his finger searched for Cavan’s prostate. Biton’s other hand held the base of his cock, his fingers massaging the tight balls. His mouth releasing the hot flesh, Biton whispered. “Now, Cavan. Let me taste you.”