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The Further Adventures of Clive, the Leather Hairdresser

Translations for French phrases are at the end of the chapter.

Part Fifteen
Betrayal

Trenton was almost shaking with anticipation by the time they reached Anatole's apartment. Anatole didn't turn on any lights, leading him through the darkened apartment to the bedroom. When he switched on the bedside lamp Trent saw that the top sheet had already been stripped off the bed, and his heart started to pound. Anatole must have been planning this.

Anatole kissed him softy, and murmured, "Get undressed." While Trenton stripped he opened the drawer in the night stand and removed a tube of lubricant and a condom, laying them on top. Then he went to his dresser and rummaged in it. When he returned to the bed he was carrying two long black scarves.

Trenton stood before him naked, and Anatole examined him appreciatively. It was no wonder that Gervase lusted after him. He almost made Anatole wish that he, himself, were a Dominant.

Anatole laid the scarves on the bed and stripped out of his own clothes, then picked up one of the scarves and carefully folded it into one long, narrow rectangle. "Turn around, my sweet." Trenton obeyed.

The soft black cloth settled over his eyes, blocking out all light, and he felt Anatole knot it behind his head. "There. Can you see anything, Trehn-tonne? Any light? You must be honest with me."

"No, Tole, nothing. It's pitch black."

"Bon. Now."

Trenton gasped as a whisper soft touch floated down his torso. His nipples peaked immediately at the sensual slide of chiffon. The smooth material was dragged all over him: shoulders, back, belly, legs, cock... Oh, yes, his cock! It was crazy making, that gentle slide. He got hard quickly.

"You like that, ma petite." It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

"Yes."

"Yes, Master."

Trenton trembled. "Yes, Master."

He felt Anatole's hand on his cock, stroking firmly, and pushed into the grip. There was a stinging slap on his ass that made Trenton yelp. "Did I say you could do that?"

"No, Master. I'm sorry."

"Hands behind your neck, and bow your head." Trenton obeyed. "Better. You look properly humble now. Stand there, Trehn- tonne. Do not move. If you remove the blindfold, I will punish you severely." Trenton thought that Anatole left the room for a moment, but he couldn't be sure with the thick carpeting. Trent waited in darkness.

In a moment, he felt a light touch, a finger running down his spine, from the top to the small of his back. Hands slid around him from behind, gliding over his chest, plucking at his nipples. He heard Anatole's voice behind him whisper, "Stay very still, pretty slave."

It wasn't easy. Anatole's touch had never been so firm and authoritative. Trenton's submission and vulnerability must have made him bold. The hands roamed his body with impunity: stroking, caressing, pinching. They found sensitive areas that Trent hadn't even been aware he had. Through it all, Trent held the desired position. But his cock was as hard as stone, and his knees were trembling when the hands finally took hold of his arms and guided him till his legs bumped against the bed.

"Lie down, pretty slave. On your belly." Trenton obeyed, feeling his way carefully, and settling on the mattress. "Now, grip the bar before you with both hands." Trenton reached over his head and found the post, wrapping both hands around it. He felt the second silk scarf winding around his wrists. In a moment he was tied to the bed. "Test your bonds." Trenton tugged experimentally, then harder, and there was no give.

"They hold firm, Master."

"Very good. I will prepare you now, my innocent one. Open your legs." Trenton spread his legs as wide as he could. He felt the hands again, on his buttocks this time. The cheeks were pried apart, then he felt a soft, wet touch on his most intimate spot.

He gasped, "Tole!"

The touch stopped, and Anatole said sternly. "Be quiet, slave. You may make noise, but you may not speak." The touch returned, probing, and he knew that Anatole was using his tongue.

Trenton gave a heartfelt groan, giving himself over to the sensation. It was fantastic. He humped slowly against the cool sheets beneath him, stimulating himself even more. Again the touch stopped. "You like that, don't you, ma petite?" Trenton started to speak, but then remembered his orders and nodded instead. "Good, good."

Gervase's POV

By the time Anatole came out to let me in, I was almost ready to burst. I stripped quickly in the living room, and we went into Anatole's bedroom, moving quietly. Trenton must not hear anything that would make him suspicious.

God, he was so hot: standing there naked and blindfolded, hands at the nape of his neck, head tipped down submissively. I finally got to touch him as I wanted to. His skin was so soft. He was just beginning to grow his body hair, and it was still soft, almost downy. I ran my hands over every inch I could reach.

Then we got him to lie down, and I tied him to the bed. Yes, I did it. That wasn't something I'd allow Anatole to do. From here on in, Trenton Vittelli was mine.

I tasted him, spreading his sweet ass cheeks and pressing my face to the crevice. He was very clean, and his flesh tasted fresh, with only a hint of musk. It was a pain to stop whenever Anatole spoke to him, but then Anatole could have hardly done that while he was tongue fucking the boy's ass, could he?

I returned to my delicious task. I licked lavishly, teasing around the tiny hole, then worked my tongue deep inside. Soon the boy was moaning and humping, rubbing himself against the bed, and pushing back eagerly for more of my attention.

*I wish he knew it was me. I wish this reaction was for me, not Anatole. But we can't have everything, can we?*

I couldn't resist the temptation of that maddeningly innocent body for long. I was so hard it almost hurt. My cock was oozing a steady drool of clear precome, and I quickly slicked it over my prick, so the friction in the condom would be more pleasurable. Anatole silently opened a rubber, kissed the head of my prick reverently, and rolled the little sheath down over my prick.

I held out my hand, and he spread lubricant on my fingers, so that I could prepare Trent for my pleasure. As I knelt on the bed between his wide spread thighs, he trembled, lifting his head blindly. Anatole stood as close to me as he could, so his voice would come from the right position. "Ready yourself, sweet boy. I am going to open you now. Relax. I will be sure that you are well prepared." Anatole gripped my shoulder, looking at me with a little anxiety, and I nodded to assure him. I had no desire to hurt the boy--I just wanted to fuck him.

Again I spread his cheeks apart. I stroked down his crack, coating him generously, then paused as his anus. He twitched in apprehension, and anticipation. But he said nothing. Oh, he was such a good boy.

I ran my finger around the muscular opening, massaging it till I felt a bit of the tension ease out. Then I carefully, slowly, sank the first finger into him. He whined quietly, but it was clearly as much pleasure as discomfort. I didn't stop till I had my knuckles against his ass. Then I slowly fucked in and out, giving him a taste of what was to come.

His breathing speeded up. He'd gone still, but soon he was once again moving, hips undulating smoothly as he masturbated by rubbing on the sheets, and impaling himself on my probing finger. Delighted, I slipped the second finger in a little more quickly. The whine was higher pitched this time, and his brow wrinkled above the blindfold, but again he remained stoic.

I decided to reward him. I carefully turned my hand, and felt till I found the spongy knob of his prostate, then glided my fingertips over it. Trenton gasped, going rigid, head back, soft mouth open. I did it again, watching the flush spread over his cheeks and down his throat. He moaned, pushing back at me. I could feel that I was baring my teeth, and I gave him what he wanted. I pushed in very hard, and rubbed firmly, over and over. His body jerked helplessly with pleasure, and he made quiet sobbing sounds.

I made a gesture at my lover. I wanted to hear the boy. "You may speak, Trent."

"Fuck me. Please, Anatole, please! I'm going crazy!"

"Is that what you want, pet?" Anatole knows what I like. He was determined to draw the boy out.

"Oh, God! I need it, Tole. I need you inside me."

"You shall have me, pet." Then...

Ah, he meant well. But it was such a stupid thing to do! Perhaps if Trenton were less bright, we still might have gotten away with it. He would have had a nice little experience with 'Anatole', and I would have had a piece of ass to remember, and no one would have gotten hurt.

But Anatole wanted to raise Trenton up a little, so I'd have a better angle to drive into his ass. An admirable purpose, but he'd forgotten that I was gripping Trenton's hip with one hand, and working two fingers of the other in his ass. So where the hell did the hand that slipped the pillow under him come from?

His head went up immediately, and I could see confusion, even with the blindfold. "Tole? What... Your hands..."

Anatole saw his mistake at once. "Relax, Trehn-tonne."

"But I don't understand. You couldn't..." I could also see the dawning horror. "Is... is someone... else...?" The wonderful pink flush deepened to red. His voice was very small. "Tole?"

I gritted my teeth. Well, no more time for foreplay. "Fuck."

I'd only thought he was tensed before. Now it was as if he were carved in sun heated marble. "Gervase?"

"Yes, boy, Gervase. Now, be quiet, and enjoy this."

"No!" It was a shriek, and he started trying to kick. I was going to have to hurry, dammit.

I pulled out, hoping I'd gotten him loose enough that he wouldn't tear, and I wouldn't chafe, grabbed both his hips, and rammed myself home. He screamed, and I felt a momentary sorrow that it had to be this way. I would have preferred to seduce his cherry away, but he would be stubborn. But the sorrow was, as I've said, momentary. It was burned away by the hot, velvety grip of his virgin ass. He was tighter than any cunt or ass I'd ever been in.

I couldn't control it after that, even if I'd wanted to. I pounded into him, pummelling him with my body. He cursed me, and Anatole, and eventually his friend Clive, for sending him to Paris. Sending him into this. And he cried. He might be moving toward manhood, but he was still very much a boy, and he was hurting, spiritually and physically.

Anatole was stroking Trenton's sweaty curls as I thrust into him, whispering words of apology and explanation. Waste of breath, of course. The boy tossed his head, jerking away as if the caresses were loathsome, refusing to be comforted.

When I came it was as intense as anything I've ever experienced. My orgasm started in my balls, and spread through my body, up and down. Every square inch of my being buzzed with the heated tingle. I gushed hot sperm into the enveloping condom, wishing I could have risked going in bareback. I would have liked to have the boy feel my seed coating his insides, my sperm oozing from his ass when we were done. But you don't do that in this day and age, especially not if the passive partner is under age, and being raped.

I pulled out, careful not to let the rubber slip off. Anatole quickly stripped it and disposed of it. Then he went to the bathroom for a warm, damp rag as I caught my breath. I idly massaged Trenton's ass cheeks, his back, his shoulders. He was quiet again, just shaking. "It's all right, Trent. See? It's over now, and you're none the worse for it, are you? This was what you wanted, after all."

Anatole came back and cleaned me. I got off the bed, and Anatole tenderly wiped Trenton down, whispering to him. The towel came away from his ass with blood on it. Not a huge amount, but more than I would have liked. Anatole was a veteran, and could handle a little damage. But the boy...

I fetched my clothes from the living room, and began to dress. I watched Anatole, sitting beside the still bound boy on the bed, hugging him reassuringly. "It's all right, pretty. It always hurts a little at first. If only you would have relaxed, Gervase could have been so good to you. But next time, yes? Next time it will be only pleasure for you, sweet Trehn-tonne."

"I want to go now." His voice was barely audible.

"But Trehn-tonne, it is late. You have been through a lot. You should rest."

"I--want--to--go--now."

Anatole untied the boy's hands. Trenton sat up slowly and took off the blindfold. His expression was blank, but his eyes were wounded. He looked from Anatole to me. His clothes had been neatly folded on the night stand, and he started to get dressed, not looking at either of us again, not saying a word. When he was clothed, he stood up, staggering a little. Anatole moved to support him and he finally showed some sign of life. He jerked away so abruptly that he almost fell. My lover took the hint, and let him make his own way to the living room.

I was a little worried when I saw him picking up the phone. "Trenton, think carefully before you report this. You really won't be able to prove it wasn't consensual, you know. You came here expecting to get fucked, and you did--it just wasn't by who you thought it would be." He stared at me, the receiver in his hands, and dialed. When I heard him ordering a taxi, I almost wilted in relief.

He collected the bag that held the few things he'd brought with him, and went to stand by the door, waiting. The cab came quickly--there wasn't much business that time of night. Trenton opened the door to leave, then turned back to us. Anatole made one more attempt. "Please, Trehn-tonne, stay. You can have the bed. I will sleep out here. Gervase will go home." I nodded. Why not? I'd gotten what I came for.

Not looking right at us, he said dully, "I'll sleep in the studio. Or you can. I don't care. I can't go home right now, but I don't want you near me any more." He did look at Anatole then. His voice was soft, almost wondering. He wasn't used to the emotions he was feeling now, hadn't known he was capable of them. "I hate you." He closed the door quietly after himself, and a moment later we heard the taxi drive away.

Clive wants you to write.  I'd listen.  He has a strap.
Clean Sweep, Part FourteenClean Sweep, Part Sixteen
Clive wants you to write.  I'd listen.  He has a strap.