Now I knew where Jon was, but what could I do with that knowledge?I knocked on the guest room door, getting the expected non-response. “Jon, I know ...ou’re in there. Sooner or later, you’re going to have to talk to me. I can be patient as long as I need to.”It took a few days, but I cornered Jon in the kitchen and he finally agreed to talk to me and get things done.“Around twenty years ago...” I could see Jon getting agitated. “Please, Jon,” I said, “if we are ever going to get through this you. He was total fag, accepted his station, all well and good, but a slave had to embrace pain, extreme humiliation, cum dumps were a dime a dozen, pain toys were hard to come by, pun intended. He had no problem eating my deep hucked spit that I discreetly dripped into his empty water glass, licking his lips after, his thanks sincere, his eyes becoming shiny with lust, fag. He took my hard fondling of his balls under the table with minimum ado, felt his cock stirring, Joey liked a little. More

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