The Glass House Ch. 05

The two men obviously knew more about The Glass House than Derek did. For instance, they knew what was inside the rock-walled, ceilinged, and floored chamber that was under the two stories of glass cube above them. Derek hadn't taken the time to explore that far yet. They knew the secret of The Glass House and he was only finding out what it was, as they opened a door from the foyer to the right, in the rock wall, picked Derek up, both they, and he losing their shorts in the process, and carried him into a sexual torture chamber, complete with equipment, toys, and dungeon atmosphere.

There was no answering to Derek's pleas to know what was happening, what they were doing to him, as the two worked happily, babbling to each other in Italian and expertly carrying Derek across to the far corner of the chamber, where a black leather sling hung from the ceiling on chains. Derek struggled, but to no avail--and only half-heartedly because this had him hard and panting--and they quickly had the young German trussed up in the sling, his wrists bound high on the chains at his head and his ankles to the chains as his tail. His bare buttocks hung over the foot of the sling.

After ten minutes of Lando kneeling below him and eating his ass out and Sandro standing by, jerking Derek to a prodigious ejaculation, and offering his own cock for the German to suck on, Derek was begging for the hunky Italian thugs' cocks and, one after the other, Lando and Sandro fucked him. Then, after they'd come the first time themselves, they found some toys in the chamber and worked on stretching Derek further, first with a couple of graduated-sized dildos and then with graduated-sized rubberized balls on a string. Derek was into it, crying out "Yes, yes, yes" and "Sì, Sì, Sì," to the attention, for the Italians in case they couldn't understand the English and even "Ja, Ja, Ja," when the ecstasy of it took Derek into his own native German language.

"Frick mich! Frick mich!" he called out, and the two men fricked him--fucked him hard.

All of this was leading up to a journey into yet another room on the ground floor of The Glass House that Derek also hadn't discovered earlier. When you entered the foyer on the ground floor, the garage was on the left, under the hill that had been constructed to screen The Glass House from the rim road. Behind that, inside the hillside, opening to a sunken patio beside a pool terrace was another room--most likely built as a servant's room, with a bath. This room had two double beds in it, each outfitted with restraints at the four corners and drop-down lead restraints at the head and foot of the bed frames.

Lando and Sandro bound Derek to the bed, facing up. Sandro wormed his way under Derek, so that the young German was stretched on top of him. Spreading Derek's legs with his and grasping the young man's hips and raising Derek's pelvis, Sandro put the German on his cock and raised and lowered him until Derek was comfortable with being fucked by the Italian thug's big cock from below. Then Lando came up on the bed, on his knees, between Derek's and Sandro's spread legs, grasped Derek's hips, crouched over him, mounted and penetrated him, and then Derek was writhing and crying out between the two hung Italians as they double fucked him.

After all three men had come again, the two Italians pulled out of Derek and left the room, leaving Derek to wonder what they were planning next--not at all sure what was going to happen here, but happy that it was. They wouldn't know, of course, but this was his birthday, and rough fucking like this was exactly what he would have asked to get on his birthday. Marcelo had done what he could, but this was more raw, taking him higher into the realm of ecstasy.

He heard voices in the foyer--three voices, not just two. The third one wasn't Marcelo. Marcelo hadn't returned. Only one man entered the chamber, and it wasn't either Lando or Sandro. It was the devil. A foxy, hirsute satyr, older than the other two men, ugly enough to be both fearful and fascinating, his mouth set in a "Well, what do we have here?" sneer. The other two men had been hung, but this man--or devil, or satyr, or whoever he was--was monstrous in his erection. He wore hip-high leather boots, a crisscross of a black leather harness on his hirsute barrel chest, and a greased-up black leather glove on his right hand. There were rings in his nipples and a thick Price Albert ring in the bulb of his cock, and a cruel smile on his face.

The monster climbed up on the bed where Derek was spread-eagled, facing up, drove his greased fist up into the young man's ass channel that two hung men had just opened up, and brutally fist fucked the young German, as Derek writhed under the onslaught, rocked his hips against the cruel, thrusting fist, and screamed out in German, "Ja, ja! Faust mich. Gib es mir!--Yes, yes. Fist me, Give it to me!" Pushing his pelvis up with the leverage of his feet flat on the mattress, Derek moved against the fist to the point where the satyr just held it steady with a malevolent grin on his face and let Derek fuck himself on the fist.

This was what Derek remembered most from the Berlin BDSM club--learning to take a man's fist. Marcelo had never done this, but Derek had certainly had it done--on stage, with men watching--before he met Marcelo. What this satyr was doing to him was a trip down memory lane.

When Derek had come, the satyr pulled his fist out of the young man's ass, exchanged it for his monster cock, and fucked the stuffing out of the German. Derek loved this too. Derek even loved it when the man released him from the restraints on the bed but only to carry him across the foyer and back into the sexual torture dungeon, where he hung Derek on a St. Andrew's cross, facing the brick wall; whipped him on the back, buttocks, and thighs, and then saddled up behind him, palmed the young man's belly, pulled his pelvis back, mounted him, and fucked him again.

Derek was puddled at the base of the X-frame, on the stone floor, panting and purring for twenty minutes before finding out that he was all alone. All three men who had manhandled and sexually tortured him from the morning into the afternoon of his twenty-third birthday were gone. He dragged himself up into the glass cube, to the master bedroom bathroom, drew a hot bath, and sank into it with a sigh of satiation.

* * * *

It had been quite a ride and Derek wouldn't pretend he hadn't enjoyed it--even the painful bits--because it made him feel alive and completely satisfied. Now he'd have to face the music, though. What would he tell Marcelo about what happened? How much of it would he tell Marcelo? He couldn't hide the welts on his back and butt and thighs. And that was the roughest part. Who was the third man? He was such a devil and had spiraled Derek further up into arousal heaven than Derek had been in years. But he'd been so nasty. He could possibly tell Marcelo about the two sailors, or whoever they were, because he could give some form of the enticement story with the binoculars. But the third man? He'd come in without permission--and he'd done all of those deliciously evil things to Derek's body.

Did Marcelo know he'd rented a house with a sexual torture chamber on the ground floor?

He was still soaking in the tub and was still trying to devise a story to weave for Marcelo, when Marcelo returned to The Glass House and Derek didn't have to weave a false story at all.

"Did you enjoy your birthday present?" he asked when he came into the bathroom, crouched down beside the tub, and the two had kissed, with Marcelo's hand going into the water to search for, find, and gently stroke Derek's cock.

"My birthday present? The sex we had this morning? Yes, of course. I told you I had."

"No, the sex I conjured up for later in the day. Didn't two men, Lando and Sandro, visit you?"

Two? It was three, Derek thought. But hearing the names of the two again cleared so much up for him. "You sent those two big bruisers--Lando and Sandro--to give me a rough fuck? I didn't know you'd sent them."

"They were supposed to tell you that they were a birthday present. They didn't?"

"They said something in Italian, but I didn't understand it--they just pushed themselves in... and they had quite a time with me,"

"I hope it was as rough as you have been wanting. I know you once took it much rougher than I give and you were lurking outside that leather bar the other day. I decided this was what you wanted. Were they rough enough... did they do that?" Derek had turned in the tub to take a washcloth out that had slipped into the water and in doing so, he'd revealed his back with the welts.

"Yes," he said.

"I'm sorry if they were too rough. When I engaged them--from a brothel in Bellagio, owned by the same man I rented this house from, Vincenzio Attakun--I had trouble telling them what might be too much. Attakun volunteered to do this himself, but he scared me. He was so cruel looking, like a satyr. I didn't think you'd want what he looked like he'd enjoy doing with a man. Lando and Sandro, though--they whipped you? Was that too much?"

"No, that wasn't too much." But they didn't do it, the third guy did it, Derek thought, most likely this Attakun guy. But Marcelo hadn't mentioned sending a third guy yet, so Derek wouldn't either. In fact, Marcelo probably would have been quite upset to think that the brothel owner had been here too--and what he'd done.

"I take it they took you into the sex dungeon on the ground floor then?"

"Yes. You knew about that--that there was a sexual gym here?"

"Yes. It's why I rented this house. I don't know how half of that stuff down there is used."

"Would you like to know what stuff down there I like--that maybe we can explore?" Derek asked.

"If that's what you want," Marcelo answered. "I can learn to give you more of what you want--if that's what you want."

This is working out quite nicely, Derek thought. But who in the hell was that third man? Was it the Attakun guy? Would Marcelo tell him where this male brothel was in Bellagio? Could Derek find an opportunity to visit it--and Vencenzio Attakun?