Temptation Castle

Ron roamed the big lake house while Sally and Susan bustled around in the kitchen. Wherever Phil was, Ron didn't want to be alone with him. Ron was embarrassed, wondering what Phil had seen and heard while Ron was having his sexy dream out on the deck.

Whatever it might have been, Phil gave no indication he had seen anything incriminating. He appeared at dinner, dressed in expensive casual—much too dressed up for the lake—and announced that even though it was Saturday, he needed to return to the city that night. He said he'd stop at the gym on the way to get the workout he'd missed by coming up on Friday.

The women and children were so taken up with planning their initial activities that they hardly even heard Phil's plans. And for his part, Ron was greatly relieved. He would be returning to the city on Sunday afternoon himself, but he was just as happy that he didn't have to spend the evening assessing whatever look Phil gave him.

The wives had brought DVDs of requested movies still unseen, and as the family settled in front of the TV set in the great room overlooking the lake, Ron removed himself to the small den upstairs and connected his laptop to the Internet. He fooled around for some time, avoiding going to the Temptation Castle Web site, but he was only fooling himself, and that could go on for only so long. The only reason he was on the Internet was to tool through those galleries again and imagine himself stopping at Temptation Castle and going through the photo shoot process, rather than, as he intended, taking a different route back to the city on the morrow and avoiding temptation altogether.

As he looked through the galleries, he stopped kidding himself. He got up and went to the bathroom and returned with a wad of tissues and then unzipped himself and sat down at the machine. He scrolled to the video of Mart masturbating and joined in. By the time he was really keyed up, he switched to the DVD he'd found of Mart actually fucking a guy, and he watched that. Rod came at nearly the same time that Mart's partner came on the screen. Perhaps if he had not had that dream this afternoon, he might have denied himself this forbidden pleasure. But the dream had gone farther than either the video or the DVD did—he convinced himself he had felt the creature's cock inside him, even though he knew this really wasn't possible with dreams. But it was all becoming so real and tempting for Ron, and his resolve was beginning to dissolve.

Of course when Ron drove away from the lake house early the next afternoon, he didn't take the alternative route to the city. Of course he drove straight to Temptation Castle and parked in the lot behind the building, out of sight of the road, rather than in the front lot where they had parked the previous day. He told himself that he might not have done that if Sally hadn't bugged him again the previous night to have a sexy photo made for her. But he knew, really, that he would have stopped there anyway. It was good to have Sally to blame for all of this—but it was an empty excuse. He knew he'd be betraying his wife, and he knew she would recognize the difference between having a sexy photo shot and living a sex experience in the process.

Ron had pulled into a spot between two cars and gotten out before he stopped, in shock, and realized that he had parked next to Phil's car. If Phil had said he was stopping here last evening to go to the gym, why was his car still here on Sunday afternoon? Ron hastily got back in his car and parked it well away from Phil's Mercedes—where, he hoped, Phil wouldn't see it if he left before Ron did.

Although if Phil did see him, it would be Phil who should be embarrassed, not his brother-in-law, Ron thought. Phil knew Sally had bugged Ron to stop here for a photo session. Phil, however, had no plausible reason to be here—at least not today. He said he had to be down in the city working today.

For the first time Ron considered Susan's marriage to Phil. He had always thought Phil to be much too slick for Susan. The first plausible reason that popped into Ron's mind was that Phil had something on the side—and that she was up here at the lake. It had really been Phil's suggestion that had brought them to the lake for the summer. For some reason this possibility lifted a burden off Ron's shoulders. Phil no longer had a reason to look down his nose at his brother-in-law, Ron now felt. Now Ron had something on Phil. Not that he could be sure, of course, and not that he could really do anything about it.

Ron no longer felt all that burdenless about it as he walked around the building and under the portcullis and into the great room of jumbled delights. Now he felt duty bound to do something about what he suspected—but who should he approach about it? Susan or Phil himself—or Sally? No matter what he did now, the situation would be sticky and he'd be right in the center of it.

"Hello. Ron, isn't it?"

Ron looked up and into the eyes of a smiling Mart.

"Have you come back for that photo session?"

"Yes . . . yes, I guess so," Ron murmured. "My wife won't let me alone about it. So, I might as well have a photo taken for her."

"TC46. That's what you said your number was, didn't you?" Mart was smiling. He was having nothing to do with the "my wife's making me do it" lame excuse.

"Yes," Ron mumbled.

"I only ask because, as I said, it makes a difference in whether you have to pay for it. Well, come along. Come through my red curtains back there. As you probably know, the studio is upstairs."

Mart had taken Ron with a firm grip on his arm and was leading him toward the back of the store, toward the large painting of the Temptation Castle motif. All innocence on the surface, but something more, much more, for those who knew the code of the colors and logos hidden in the curlicues of the intricate design—as Ron now knew.

If he was going to cut and run, it would be now—now, before he had walked through the red velvet curtains. Upstairs there would be opportunity to go only so far and no farther. But Ron had already been seduced well down the path of temptation. Ron knew he was going to the chamber in the tower—if that's where Mart wanted him to go.

* * * *

The first stop at the top of the stairs to the second floor was the costume room.

"Are you keeping with the cowboy motif your wife mentioned?" Mart asked.

"Yes, that's what my wife said she wanted," Ron answered in a subdued voice.

"OK, that would be that section over there. You'll need to strip all the way down and start back up with a thong—that is if your wife still wants a sexy photo. A thong. Tight jeans on top of that, as tight as you can take them and with the lowest rise. We'll want to see that auburn hair down there. I trust it has the same reddish-gold highlights as your head hair?"

"Umm, no. I go more red the lower on my body. If that's a problem . . ."

"No, certainly not. That should be great. So, lowest rise it is. Then chaps and a red checkered shirt, brown leather vest, red bandana around your neck, and a ten-gallon hat. Spurred boots, of course. Oh, and you can wear one of those face masks, if you'd be more comfortable. You can keep that on throughout the session. I won't make you to take that off—although I may suggest that you want to . . . later. And bring along a lasso when you come into the next room. I'll be in costume too. A Roman soldier, I think. Like in my video on the Web site. You saw that of course."

Ron, who had been rummaging through the pile of Western clothes, trying to remember what Mart told him to put on, looked up guiltily at Mart's question. A leading one to be sure. And when he looked up, he saw that Mart was already stripped completely down and leaning over a pile to pull out a metal-slatted Roman skirt.

"Umm, yes, I did. Yes," Ron mumbled.

Mart looked pleased, and he turned full frontal to Ron, giving him the full look and scrutinizing him closely to gauge his reaction. Ron looked away and blushed. He began stripping down himself, fully realizing that Mart was watching his every move.

"Nice, very nice," Ron heard Mart say when he was completely stripped. He looked up, self-conscious, surprised to see that Mart was still naked. Ron felt his cock going hard, no matter what he tried to do to keep calm and cool, and he turned away.

"Nice butt too," Mart remarked. "The photos will be terrific."

Ron was trembling, but Mart was humming.

When they were dressed, Mart invited Ron to go on through an open doorway to another room, which proved to be a photo studio. In one corner of the room was a stack of hay bales, one in front of a pile of three, and Mart told Ron to sit on the front bale and he began to guide Ron through a series of poses, firing off camera clicks at a rate that was only economical in today's digital age, where unwanted shots could just be deleted.

Mart moved slowly in preparing Ron for the ultimate shots, slowly enough that Ron wasn't shocked by what he progressively was being asked to do.

The first step toward the sexy photos was having Ron unbutton his shirt and let it hang open, showing his fine chest development as he leaned back on the hay in a languid pose. The shirt came off completely from underneath the vest next, as Mart clicked away with the camera. Then the vest, leaving Ron's chest completely exposed. In some of the shots, Mart had Ron hold the lasso at his side.

Mart complimented Ron on the change in hair color tone from the fine down running across and under his pectorals, then down in a thin line descending from his sternum to his hard belly and flaring out again at the golden-red edging at the low-rise waist of the tight jeans.

After these last shots, Mart came over to Ron and let him go through the digital file of the photo shoot.

At this point, Mart asked Ron is he wanted to take the mask off briefly. "The sexy cowboy photo for your wife most likely will come from this set," Mart said. "And she'll probably want one without a mask. You can put it back on afterward, though, if you'd like to take the photo shoot to the next level."

Mart hummed and had Ron take a whole new series of sexy poses as they worked without the mask.

"These are good, but I would like to do even sexier shots, if you are willing," Mart said. "Then you can decide just how far you'd like to go for your wife. I've found it's always best to go a little farther than the subject thinks will be appropriate. You never know—and you are such a good model," he added.

Ron looked through the digital images of the new photos. He knew he'd go farther. He knew he'd go all of the way if Mart took it slow. But some part of him was still reluctant, was telling him that this was wrong and that he was going down a very dangerous path and should rein in his desires and resist temptation.

"Yes, OK. We can go farther," he answered in a breathy voice.

Mart looked pleased. "Then let's move on to the next room, shall we? We have more appropriate backdrops there. You can put the mask back on now."

Ron didn't do so, although he kept the mask with him—when they got to where he assumed this was heading, he knew he'd want to be wearing it. As ready as he was for action, he wasn't that ready to make it public.

The cowboy area of the next room was a section of wood rail fence in front of a sky-blue background with clouds.

"Take the jeans off now," Mart said when he had indicated the various poses he thought Ron should take on the rail fence for starters. "And put the chaps back on."

Ron was photographed sitting on the top rail of the fence with his legs spread and his feet planted on the lower rung. He was holding a long strand of wheat in his mouth and giving the camera the teasing and come-hither facial expressions Mart was coaching him into.

It was here, in this room, that Ron noticed that Mart was beginning to shed bits of his costume as well.

Ron felt himself being aroused as he watched Mart prancing around in increasingly less costume. He mumbled his apologies at showing his arousal, and Mart told him in no uncertain terms that it was all part of the plan—that if Ron chose to move to the latter photos he would be expected to be in full arousal and that the photos would show this. This, of course, only increased the exhibition of Ron's arousal, and Mart smiled his pleasure at how the session was unfolding.

Ron blushed when Mart told him to lose the thong.

"Don't worry, though, we'll go slowly," Mart assured him. "The initial shots will be from the rear, showing those luscious butt cheeks of yours. Unless, of course, you want to stop now."

"No, I guess not," Ron whispered, and he reached down and unhooked the thong and let it drop to the floor. Simultaneously, Mart dropped the Roman skirt he was wearing and he stood there, naked—and in magnificent arousal himself.

Ron gasped and gulped in air and turned away from the camera and leaned into the rail.

"Beautiful," Mart said. "Now look over your shoulder and given me a smile. Yes, gorgeous."

Mart hummed as he worked, taking shots from all angles.

"Three quarters front now, please, and hang the lasso on your cock."

"I don't . . . think . . . that will work," Ron muttered.

"Oh, I think it will. Look down at yourself. That hard of yours will hold up the lasso nicely. A full three quarters shot and a full frontal and then lose the lasso, please, and sit back on the fence and widen your stance and fondle it for me, please."

Ron felt himself blushing all over now.

"Terrific. You are a dynamite model. I don't know which shot you'll want for your wife, but you will definitely be a featured model on our Web site. You'll want to OK that if you want the password to the chamber. You'll want that, won't you?"

"Yes," Ron whispered—against his better judgment, but a screamed yes now. He had come too far not to want that.

"OK, we move to a whole new level now, if you are interested," Mart said. "You've viewed the galleries in the Web site, haven't you?"

"Yes," Ron answered.

"You know about the chamber then?"

"Yes," Ron answered. "Up to a point," he added.

"And you have decided to go up to that point?" Mart asked. He had drawn in close to Ron. Ron felt the tip of Mart's monstrous engorged cock on the side of his thigh and Mart's broad palm on the top of his thigh—both points of contact burning into Ron's brain. The first physical connection. Yet another point of no return. Ron searched his mind for any hint of rejection and pulling back. But he found none. He was breathing heavily.

"Yes," he whispered.

"I'm so glad. You are so desirable," Mart whispered back. Then he leaned in and took Ron's lips in his—but ever so briefly. He pulled back, smiling, and looking for some hint of reluctance. But Ron had none to give him. The seduction of Temptation Castle had worked its magic.

"Come then. Come through the beaded curtain. Come up the tower stairs to my chamber."

Ron paused to put the mask back on. He knew that from this point he would not want what he was preparing to do to be something that he'd want identified to himself.

Mart took Ron's hand, and Ron docilely shuffled behind Mart on numb feet as Mart led him over to a corner of the room and pushed aside a beaded curtain, then gently pulled him up a winding staircase into the tower and the chamber that Ron had seen in the videos on the Web site.

A double bed jutted out into the center of the space from a blank wall with a blue backdrop behind it. Across from the bed, nearly against the far wall, were three tripods, set at contrasting angles and heights. Each supported a fancy video camera. Stage lights were located along the walls on this side of the room at various heights.

"If you've seen the videos, you know what comes next," Mart said.

"Yes," Ron answered. He seemed incapable of doing anything more than forcing out an assent at every step.

Mart didn't seem to mind. As long as Ron kept saying yes, Mart seemed content.

"On the bed, then, please—and put the vest back on, please. You'll want to watch the screens on the wall behind me. I'll be running other videos above that—to keep you in the mood. And there will be music as well. Both are meant to help you. All you need do is lie back on the bed and slowly masturbate yourself to ejaculation. Take as much time as you can, please. If you find you have to come quickly, don't worry. We'll wait a bit and do it again and we can splice the tapes together. And see this signal I'm giving with my hand? Each time I give that signal, take something off—as sexily as possible, please. First the vest, then the chaps. The boots and the hat. Leave the bandana on your neck. And you can keep the mask on, if you want. If you don't, you certainly can take that off as well. You have a great, expressive face. We'd love to see that, if you are willing."

Ron laid down on the bed and looked up at the screen, which began to run video of what he assumed he would find in that last chamber on the Web site that he now had gained the password for by giving Mart what he wanted in the photo shoot. Men fucking other men. On this bed. One of the screens showing Mart fucking a young black man and the other showing Mart's Olympian champion partner, Theo, fucking a barely legal young blond.

Ron had no trouble holding an erection and showing progressive arousal. The ever-quickening music helped, as did looking down from the screen occasionally and seeing Mart, in the flesh, working his own magnificent cock as he moved around checking what the video cameras were filming.

When Ron had ejaculated up his belly, Mart applauded and told him that he had done very well. Then he walked over and sat beside Ron on the bed. This was the point at which the videos went black in the galleries Ron had been able to access on the Web site before now.

But the videos he had just watched—so like the DVD he had found on the Internet—told him there was more—another level, a level his password would now give him access to from his own computer.

Mart leaned over and laid his hand on Ron's belly, and Ron felt his cock coming back to life again—already. He held his breath, wondering what came next. Knowing what came next. Having already made up his mind about that—at least a day earlier—even though he had tried to hide in self-denial.

"You saw the videos. You know what I have to offer to you now. Upon completion of this phase, you not only get access to the chamber on the Web site, but there are rooms on Theo's page that will be open to you as well. Very interesting rooms. Do you wish to proceed from here?"

"With you?" Ron whispered.

"Yes, with me."

Ron hesitated. "I want to, of course. I don't know, though. I've never . . . it will be painful. Maybe if the first time . . . not filmed."

"You've never been fucked before?" Mart asked.

"Are those cameras still running?" Ron replied, suddenly aware of them.

"Yes, yes, of course. This will make this a favorite video, I think. You are telling me that you are a virgin to men? That you've never been fucked before?"

"Yes . . . never before. I'm sorry, but . . ."

"A thousand dollars. On top of all of the privileges, we'll pay you a thousand dollars for your virginity on camera. With posting rights, of course."

Mart was running a hand between Ron's thighs, under his balls. A finger was at Ron's entrance and was thumbing it softly.

Ron moaned and he felt his pelvis lift of its own accord and Mart taking advantage of that to take fuller possession between Ron's thighs. Ron spread his thighs more and groaned at the index finger that had pushed a half inch into his channel.

"A thousand dollars if you let me fuck you—take your virginity—on camera," Mart repeated. "Fifteen hundred if you let me do it unsheathed. I can show you a certificate certifying me as clean. I'll assume you are. Fifteen hundred for bareback on camera. And not holding back on your verbal reactions to what is happening to you. I'll take it slow—for as long as you want. Oh, and two thousand if you lose the mask. Your facile expressions are worth a million."