The Master of the Mansion

I'd never been snowboarding before; it was one of the few sports I didn't do. Wrestling, swimming, baseball, hockey...name pretty much anything else and I did it. Between the gym, the field, and keeping my GPA higher than a 3.6 I didn't really have much time for anything else. I needed a break, and they wanted to go over a 3-day weekend, so I said sure.

Joe had been my lifting buddy for three semesters and roommate for two. He was on the gymnastics squad with me; a good guy, and unlike all my other lifting buddies he could a) keep up with me and b) was serious about it - he didn't stop coming after awhile. I had hung out with him socially a few times and gotten to like him, so when he asked if we wanted to get a place together I said yes. I felt kinda bad though; I'd gone to a party or two with him but for the most part I was always studying at night, so we didn't really to hang out much outside of the gym. I figured this trip would be good both to relax and to hang out more with Joe and his friends.

Snowshoe is a resort in West Virginia, way up in the hills. It's a big resort, but driving there is kind of a pain - you drive through all these little hill towns full of rednecks. We even saw one guy with a deer tied to a tree in his front yard. At night the roads are pretty dangerous - the mist rises out of the hollows and the roads are already narrow and twisting. I figured out pretty quickly why most people try to fly in.

Still, I had a great time. Of the four of us - myself, Joe, and his friends Nick and Rob - I was the only one who hadn't done it before, but I did just fine with a little coaching and a rented board. It didn't take long before I was hurtling down the slopes dodging little kids and old people.

We spent two days on the slopes and decided to head back home on Saturday night to save a night's money at the little seedy hotel we were staying at. All of us were exhausted, and just getting to sit in the car for awhile was nice. My ass was sore, my abs were sore, my ankles were sore...hell, I think even my head was sore.

Nick and Rob passed out in the back seat about half an hour out, and it wasn't long before Joe did too. To make things worse, it was dark out and starting to sleet. Around 11PM I was starting to get groggy, too, and was convinced I had made a wrong turn - I should have found the interstate an hour ago, and this didn't look like where we came through on the way to the resort. I couldn't find the map so just went about the way I figured I was supposed to go for a bit, but only succeeded in getting even more lost. I felt like I was about to pass out, and the roads were starting to get really bad.

When I saw the lights of what looked like a large building ahead, I decided to forego the male urge to never stop, so swallowed my pride and decided to ask for directions. I pulled around a gravel circle, and could make out the dim shapes of hedges all around. The house itself looked old but well-kept; it was at least three stories tall with one of those little towers they have. The lights were on in several rooms, so I figured somebody must be awake.

As the car pulled to a stop, Joe woke up. "What's going on?" he asked groggily.

"We're lost; I'm going to get some directions."

"Oh...okay..." he yawned, shifted a little, and passed right back out. Lucky bastard, I thought.

I jumped out of the car and ran to the porch of the house, the sleet coming down so hard it hurt. My muscles ached with every movement and the cold made my lungs burn. The door had a lit bell button, so I pressed it and waited, shivering.

About thirty seconds later the door opened to show a guy, maybe 30 or so, with a shaven head. He was built as hell, wearing a skintight black t-shirt, jeans, and those little house slippers. "Can I help you?" he asked.

"Yeah, uh, hey, my friends and I got lost..." I motioned back toward the car, "...and we were wondering if you could give us directions back to the interstate." I was hugging myself and shivering, trying to absorb the warmth emanating from inside.

He seemed a little stoned maybe, or tired, but after thinking for a few seconds answered me. "Yeah, you go back out here, take a left..." it took him about thirty seconds to describe how to do it. "...and then go for a few miles and you should see the signs."

"But that can all wait until tomorrow," a deep voice boomed out from behind him. A man dressed in slippers and one of those nice silk robes walked into view. He looked a little older than the other guy, very muscular, with shaggy black hair, a short goatee, and a bit of black hair showing on his chest through the robe.

He strode up to the door. "There's no way you kids are going back out into that. The roads are so slick you'd end up in a ditch before you made it five miles." He turned to the younger one. "Tom, go get some rooms ready. Put them in the guest rooms on the second floor." Tom nodded submissively and headed into the house.

"Go ahead and get your friends in here, you can all spend the night tonight and leave tomorrow when the roads are a little better," he told me. His eyes were bright blue and piercing, and when he talked it was like he was staring right through me.

"Thanks, but we really can't..." I began to protest.

"I really can't let you back out there in good conscience. It's no trouble; we have plenty of room." He smiled wide, showing his teeth, white and gleaming.

I really didn't want to go out there and keep driving either; I was about to pass out. His offer to let us spend the night was a huge relief, and the fact that I knew nothing about him didn't really matter to me at this point. I just wanted a warm bed, food, and sleep.

"Okay..." I turned and headed back out to the car. "Guys! Wake up!" They all stirred.

"Are we there yet?" somebody groggily muttered from the back seat.

"We're staying here for the night, get your stuff and come on," I told them.

"Where are we?" asked Joe, blinking from the light.

"I got lost; this guy offered us a place to stay for the night. The roads are too bad to drive on, come on."

Slowly they got up and stirred. I grabbed my backpack and we ran back through the ice, slipping all over the place, and made it back up to the porch. "Come on in, boys," the man invited us.

Inside it was nice and toasty. "Just put your coats in the corner; I'll have Tom get them in a minute." We stood there and unzipped, unbuttoned, and unclasped our various outer garments, tossing them where indicated. It felt nice to be out of the cold and wet and ice.

"You guys hungry?" he asked.

"A little," I muttered. The others all shook their heads no.

Tom came back down. "The rooms are ready."

"Excellent. Show these boys to their rooms." He then looked straight at me. "When you're done showering, Tom will get you something."

"Oh, thanks. You don't have to..." Why was I even arguing?

"I don't mind. Go get cleaned up." He had a very forceful way of talking that prevented any real attempt at argument or contradiction.

Tom led us up to a pair of bedrooms on the second floor. Each had an enormous bed in it, all made up and very ornate. Nick and Rob took one and Joe and I the other. "The bathroom is right down the hall; there are towels for each of you. If you need anything just push the intercom button; I'll be around. Have a good night." Man, he creeped me out. It was like he was a robot or something.

I wanted to hit the shower first so I could eat something, and then had to wake Joe up to go do it himself. I threw on a pair of shorts, shoes and a wife beater, then headed downstairs to find Tom. My stomach was rumbling by this point.

I walked down the stairs and out into the foyer. The light here, like the rest of the house, was low, soft, and yellow. Everything was wooden, all soft earthy browns, tans, and sumptous scarlet rugs. It was like something out of a tasteful issue of Good Housekeeping. I wondered if everything in the house was an antique; it all looked so old but in perfect condition. Then I wondered what Mister....Mister What? What was his name? He never said, I realized. Well, whoever he was, I wondered what he did for a living. He must be rich as hell...and that Tom guy - was he a butler or what?

On the first floor I wasn't really sure where to go, so just wandered around through rooms until he found me. "Do you need something?" Tom asked from behind me, startling me as I was looking at an old harpsichord.

I turned around. "Um, yeah...he told me to come down and get some food, or something..."

"Follow me," Tom said, still in that dull monotone. He turned around and started to walk off. I followed him into the kitchen - well kept brick and metal, shiny pots hanging down and a large brick oven in the corner. "We have some leftover roast and potatoes."

"Oh, great!" I told him. I was expecting a cold sandwich or something equally token.

"Wait in the dining room; I'll bring it out in a few minutes." He pointed toward a swinging double door.

The dining room was more of a hall - it had high ceilings, a roaring fireplace, and a long table like something out of a medieval movie. There were giant paintings all about the rooms. I thought I recognized some of them from various art classes I'd had but couldn't really place any of them. Little statues dotted the room as well, mostly male nudes. Maybe Tom and this guy were lovers?

I sat down and stared at the paintings. About five minutes later Tom brought out a plate with some roast beef, potatoes, bread, and some grilled asparagus on it with a glass of red wine and another of water. I was floored; this was awesome. I thanked him profusely but Tom just nodded acknowledgement. "If you need anything else I'll be in the study."

I ate there in silence, feeling a little intimidated by the huge room. For some reason I took care not to try and clink the silverware on the plate or anything, like any noise would somehow disturb something. I was still pretty tired and ate slowly. When I finished the meal I downed the glasses of wine and water and took it all back into the kitchen. I figured if they fed me and were letting us stay - I ought to do something, so did what little I could and washed the dishes, leaving them in the drying rack by the sink.

The shower and meal had actually perked me up a bit, and I really wasn't that sleepy anymore. I didn't just want to wander around aimlessly, though - I didn't want them thinking I was trying to steal anything, so I headed back up into the hall.

"Enjoy your food?" I heard his voice boom again. The older guy had shed his robe and now wore only a pair of royal blue silk boxer shorts, the front bulge rather prominent.

"Oh, yessir, it was great. Thanks so much." I couldn't help but admire his body - his musculature was perfect. As built as he was I couldn't even make out a stretch mark.

"I was just about to have a smoke in the den. Care to join me, or are you going to bed?" he asked.

"Umm...I could join you." I wanted to talk to this guy some, find out something about him.

"Come on, then." He led me through the house into a musky room filled with plush chairs, rugs, and an honest to god stuffed polar bear rearing up by the lit fireplace, its teeth bared. "Get comfortable," he ordered me, and then got a tin out of the cabinet.

I flopped onto one of the giant couches. He sat down across from me, opened up the tin, and pulled out a pack of rolling papers and a bag of weed.

"Oh, I thought you meant a cigar or something," I commented.

"Nope. Why, do you not smoke?"

I'd done it a few times, but it wasn't a habit or anything. "No, it's cool," I told him. "Just a surprise is all."

He smiled and got down to the business of rolling a joint. I watched the muscles in his forearms move under his skin as he did it, admiring his tone and mass. I hope I look that good at his age, I thought to myself.

He held up the finished product. "Here we go." He sparked it and puffed a few times, then passed. "Ah," he sighed. "So how was snowboarding?"

I blew out a cloud of grey smoke and passed it back to him. "Snowshoe. We were there all weekend." He must have heard me tell Tom about it or something.

Puff, puff, give. "Where you heading? Back home?"

Puff, puff, give. "Yeah." I told him the university we went to.

Puff, puff, give. "What do you study?"

It went on like that until the joint was done. He asked me lots of questions but I never could get up the nerve to ask him anything. As he put the roach up, I clasped my hands behind my head and leaned back, stretching out my sore triceps a bit. I let out a little grunt, and he looked up. "You sore from the weekend?" he asked.

"Yeah. I'd never been before."

He stood up and walked around the back of the couch I was sitting on. "Well, here," he started, and put his hands on my shoulders. "I can help out with that." He started kneading and massaging the muscles in my shoulders. He was really good at it, and I was tired and stoned enough not to care that it was a guy doing it. In fact, it kinda turned me on.

I leaned forward a bit so he could get further down my back. "Here, just take your shirt off and lie on the carpet; it'll be easier." What the hell, I thought, and did. He straddled me and kept going. His dick was hard; I could easily tell that - it was pressing against the butt of my shorts, but between his hands the fuzzy carpet I really just didn't care; I was in heaven. I didn't even protest when he slid my shorts down my legs and off my feet; I was so relaxed that there really wasn't much he could have done to make me want to move. He did a full body massage - back, arms, neck, butt, legs...when he was done with that he flipped me over onto my back. At some point he had shed his shorts and was naked as well, showing off that amazing body. His dick was large and rock hard, but he didn't try to do anything sexual; just straddled me again and started massaging my front. As he leaned over to get my chest our cocks rubbed together. The motion and contact of skin on skin got me a little excited; and I popped a woody of my own...this was getting me damn horny.

"You like this." It wasn't a question. He cupped my balls. "Nice." I had always thought so. His hand moved to my dick and jerked it a little, more like he was examining it than playing with it. "Very nice." I was a rag doll, enjoying the moment. I wasn't the slightest bit sore anymore and just felt great after that massage.

"Time to move on," he stated, and bodily picked me up off the ground, putting me back on the couch. I just watched him impassively as he pulled my legs apart and positioned his dick on my asshole, moving his hips in a circle so it rubbed up against it. "You ever done this before?" he asked. I nodded my head back and forth. "Just relax." That wouldn't be hard. He widened the circle of his hips, pushing the head of his cock in slowly, then pulling it back out. It hurt a little bit at first but I just relaxed more and more as he kept moving it in and out, in and out, and soon it wasn't even all that uncomfortable. Pretty pleasurable, actually. I could get to enjoy this, I thought.

My cock stayed hard and leaked goo like mad. I started to really get into it, pushing back at him from the couch, which he responded to by thrusting harder. He tweaked my nipples a bit between shoves. I didn't even touch my cock as he was fucking me, and noticed him just staring at my groin as he did it.

It took maybe ten minutes before I shot all over myself, and just moments later felt a warm jet inside me as he climaxed. He pulled out slowly, his dick softening and skin sweaty, chest breathing heavily. "Mmm," he purred. "That was good."

My cock was still hard; I could go again. I started to jerk it a bit, and he just sat back in his chair and watched. I came again a few minutes later and was now well and sated, covered in spunk.

He pushed a button for a buzzer and Tom came in. He didn't seem to show any reaction to the two of us sitting there naked and covered in our own juices. "Tom, take the boy upstairs and get him ready, will you?"

"Yes, sir," Tom answered.

"Go get cleaned up and I'll see you later," he told me. His forcefulness was a relief; no wondering if we should hug each other or anything silly like that.

I followed Tom back up the stairs and into the shower. There was another guy there, one I hadn't seen before. Like Tom and the other guy (the master? What should I even call him, I wondered) he was buff, young, and smooth. He wore only a pair of vinyl shorts, like the kind ravers go clubbing in, and had what looked like a bunch of shaving supplies laid out. Tom left me with him, introducing him as Wes.

"The Master asked me to get you cleaned up and ready for later. If you'll step into the shower...?" I did.

He got in with me and scrubbed me clean; all I had to do was move how he wanted me to. When he was done cleaning me off he lathered up my chest and started shaving it. I'm not that hairy to start with, so it didn't take long, but then he moved onto my arms and armpits, and then on further, shaving my abs, ass, groin, legs...everything. By the time he was done the only hair left on me was on my scalp and and my eyebrows. I briefly wondered why they were doing all this but didn't really care that much; my mind was still on my recent fucking. I'd never thought it was something I'd ever do, much less enjoy. There was something about the...the master, for lack of a name, still. I mean, if this guy shaving me, or Joe, or anybody else, really, asked me to spread 'em for him there's no way I would say yes, but just thinking about him doing it made me horny as all hell.

After he finished shaving me all up and down he rinsed himself off and got out of the shower, leaving me to shampoo and such. When I finished, I threw back the curtain to find him waiting, holding a towel. He dried me off, caressing me softly with the towel.

When we were done, he said, "The Master wants you to come downstairs." He led me out and back down the stairs, still completely naked. I didn't really care too much at this point; my friends were all sleeping in bed, and his employees seemed to be in on the whole thing. He led me further back into the house, past anywhere I'd been yet, and down some plush stairs into a basement level. He threw open a large set of heavy wooden double doors, and we stepped through.

The first thing I saw down the hallway was Nick standing down at the end of it, facing toward a brightly lit room, completely naked. I couldn't see into the room or anything, and wondered why he were naked. Within an instant, my attention was drawn to the most shocking element of the room: the trophies on the walls.

All over the walls were wooden plaques, onto which were mounted full sets of male genitals! It had to be a few hundred erect cocks sticking out of the walls, balls still hanging. White, black, yellow, big, small, cut, uncut...all kinds. Each had an attached photograph of a naked guy, all with a small row of stitches up the middle of his groin and a zoned out look on his face. There were little engraved brass nameplates, too, with the guy's name and a date. The earliest looked to be from about ten years ago, and as I slowly advanced down the room the dates increased. The trophies stopped about four feet from the door, and the most recent date looked to be only a week ago!

"Hey, Nick, what's going on?" I asked him. He didn't even turn to look, but just stared straight ahead away from me. I looked around into his face, and he was just staring ahead blankly. He didn't respond when I waved my hand in front of his face or anything. His dick was hard and his body shaven as smooth as mine had been.

"Glad you decided to join us," boomed a voice from behind me. I turned to see the master of the house standing over an operating table. Rob lay on the table, eyes open but not moving, a thin line of stitches up his groin where his genitals should have been. "I've just finished with the second one." He held up a plate with what I presumed were Rob's cock and balls, severed all in one piece. "These will look great with the others."

I tried to be shocked but couldn't really bring myself to feel much of anything. I just stood there in stunned silence as he cleaned Rob's groin off and taped a bandage to it and the catheter coming out from between Rob's legs. He looked down at Rob and said, "Go to bed now." Rob simply sat up, stood, and walked past me down the hallway. He waved to Nick, and Nick walked over and lay down on the table. Tom came into view, now as naked as the rest of us, and I could see that his package must be mounted out in the hallways as well, as his groin was as smooth as a Ken doll's. He took the plate off somewhere, followed by the shower guy.

As the older guy began to cut into Nick's groin, he continued speaking to me. "Don't worry, they can't feel a thing. They won't even remember this in the morning. Of course, when they wake up, they won't remember any of this. They won't even remember they had cocks."

"How...?" I started to ask.

He finished for me. "Do I get them to do what I tell them to? Everyone does. Sometimes they don't even know it. You drove here because I wanted you to, not because you got lost. Tom and Wes came here the same way, and ended up staying. I'm making you the same offer."

"Stay?" I asked.

"Yes. Either you can leave tomorrow with your friends and forget all about this, or, if you want to, you may stay. They will forget about you as well, if you choose to stay here and serve me. Of course, I already know your answer, or I wouldn't have asked."

I knew it too. There was no point in saying it out loud, we both knew what it was. I simply watched in silence, becoming increasingly aroused as he lifted Nick's genitals off his groin and began the suturing, and when it was my turn, I lay down on the table, eager and ready.

The next morning I was up early, wearing my uniform tight pants and shirt. My groin ached a bit but for the most part was fine. I helped Joe, Nick, and Rob with their stuff, loading the snowboards up into the car. "Hey, thanks a lot for letting us stay the night," he said. "We really appreciate it."

"No problem," I told him. "Think nothing of it."

"Thanks again," he said, and slowly got into the car. "Man," he muttered once in the car. "I think I musta pulled a muscle or something." The door slammed shut and the car pulled off down the driveway.

I turned and walked back into the house, down the stairs, and into the hallway of cocks. Tom handed me a wooden plaque, with my picture, name, and stuffed genitals mounted to it. They looked great. "Place it down there, next to the other three," boomed the voice I knew so well.

"Yes, Master."