By Rob Maynard

Chapter 6

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That evening there was something odd about Roland.

Olly couldn't exactly put his finger on it.

But then he hadn't actually needed to put his own finger anywhere at all for the past few hours, because it seemed as though Roland had been doing nothing but running his hands all over Oliver's body the entire evening.

Of course, petting (graduated in no less than seven separate stages from ultra-light to super-heavy) was an integral part of Roland's cyber-programme as Oliver's gay mentor.

That way Olly - and hundreds of thousands of other gay boys every year - learned a range of basic sexual techniques that allowed them to launch themselves onto the gay scene at the age of 18 without all the embarrassing fumblings that previous generations had gone through before getting things right.

So for Roland to display a degree of physical affection towards Oliver was nothing out of the ordinary.

But there was something different about the way he was behaving tonight.

He was, it seemed to Olly, more forward, almost to the point, once or twice, of being a little aggressive.

And the way he moved was, well, somehow unlike the way he'd ever done before.

As he'd welcomed Olly back to the house, for instance, Roland hadn't just given him the usual kiss but had, at the same time, thrust his hips forward into the boy's groin - and simultaneously given a little wiggle of the hips.

Olly hadn't known what to make of that at all.

It was, after all, strictly laid down that robot mentors were not allowed to initiate below-the-belt contact with their charges unless invited to do so - though, given adolescent boys' perpetual hormonal hurricanes and sperm overloads, that was, admittedly, pretty often.

But even if Oliver had authorised such activity tonight - which, of course, he hadn't - Roland's physical behaviour was still unprecedented.

What was Olly to make, for instance, of the way Roland had, at one point, spontaneously backed into him and pushed his robot ass hard into the boy's crotch?

(Everyone knew that anal intercourse was strictly prohibited between mentor and student - unless, of course, you were Bellerophon Black and had managed to hack into and bypass your robot's programme so as to secure unlimited entry a la derriere.)

Of course, boys being boys, that particular contact had immediately given Oliver a raging hard-on.

And only the thought that he ought not to be distracted from saving Mr Petersen's career kept him, in the end, from picking up Roland's remote control and demanding instant gratification of his needs via his favourite Special Programme 23D-ii(oral).

No, there'd be time for that later, he thought to himself.

There were more important things now to be getting on with.

It was odd, though, he thought.

Very odd.

Something seemed to have gotten into Roland today.

But, of course, Oliver Murray Jr. couldn't possibly know how true - indeed, quite literally true - that particular observation happened to be.

Across town, Bellerophon and Cyprian were talking about the next step in their plan.

You might have expected them to have been discussing the plan - but Bellerophon Black III didn't actually hold with the concept of discussion.

No, in his world he gave instructions and others carried them out, which is why his ideal partners were either downtrodden, desperate kids who could be bullied into going along with his plans or Cyprian who was simply programmed to do so without question.

This evening, as was usual when Bellerophon and Cyprian were alone, the robot was, apart from a symbolic dog collar fastened tightly around his neck, completely naked.

That was how Bellerophon liked it.

He was the master and anyone else was, as far as he was concerned, a slave, obliged to be ready at a moment's notice to satisfy every one of his master's whims which, on a good day, might include a whimsical wank and, on a bad one, a whimsical whipping.

Today, however, Bellerophon was still in the good mood generated by the events of the past few days.

"Well, Cyprian", he observed.

"Everything seems to be going along quite nicely, I'd say.

"Petersen's just days away from spending a very long holiday at the state's expense in a far from pleasant resort.

"And Oliver smart-ass Murray is about to have to explain what he was doing tampering with the evidence of criminal activity in Peterson's apartment.

"All we need now is the final nail in their coffins.

"And that should be arriving right about now."

Bellerophon's statement could hardly have been better timed because no sooner had he uttered the word "…now" than there was a tentative knock at the door behind him.

At a gesture from his master, Cyprian got to his feet, crossed the room and opened the heavy - and, naturally, fully soundproofed - door.

You might have thought that the sight of a hot young guy (which is, of course, how Cyprian appeared to the outside world) wearing a thick leather dog collar but otherwise completely naked might have stopped a visitor in his tracks.

Especially because the new arrival turned out to be a very slightly built, indeed quite puny and nervous-looking, boy, whose dark hair emphasised the pallor of his skin even more.

If you looked past the surface, you could actually see that he was really quite cute, but that was more than cancelled out by the fact that he simultaneously exhibited the unmistakeable look of one of nature's underdogs.

A natural victim.

The sort of boy, in fact, that Bellerophon Black collected as a hobby.

And of course the boy wasn't surprised to be greeted by Cyprian looking as he did, because he himself - like many others before him - had been made to dress up (or, more accurately, undress down) in much the same way, or even more grotesquely, many times before for Bellerophon's personal entertainment.

"Ah, little Dominic", hissed Bellerophon to the boy as Cyprian closed and firmly locked the door behind them.

"It's so good of you to come see me again."

In reality, of course, when Bellerophon had sent a message to Dominic ordering him to pay a call it had been made absolutely clear what the painful consequences of failing to do so would inevitably be.

But it always amused him immensely to pretend that his guests came to join in his little "games" of their own free will.

Just as it similarly amused him to re-name them in the most ironic way he could devise.

Butch O'Grady, Bette Midler High's star quarterback, for instance, was invariably - and, given the services expected of him, rather appropriately - referred to as Bitch O'Grady on his regular summonses.

Similarly tonight's visitor had actually been born Eric. But, on his regular visits, he was re-named Dominic, which, because it was derived from the Latin word for an important person, dominus, amused Bellerophon no end because that was the last thing that meek, mild, downtrodden Eric could ever, in real life, actually be.

Dominic stood in the centre of the room, waiting apprehensively for whatever came next.

That was the trouble with Bellerophon.

He was so unpredictable.

On the day you stripped off naked as quickly as possible, your ass was thrashed because he hadn't actually ordered you to do so yet.

But on the day you waited for an order to remove your clothes, you were told that you should have done so immediately on arrival and then punished with a very rough fucking - which ought to have been somewhat more enjoyable, except that it gave Bellerophon a chance to open up his box of special "toys" kept specially for such occasions.

Today, though, Bellerophon seemed in a far better mood than on Dom's last visit (in which the toys had played a significant, not to say quite traumatic, role.)

Reaching up and pulling Dom down alongside him on the couch, Bellerophon put his arm around the younger boy's shoulder and began idly, but firmly, tweaking a nipple through his thin shirt.

"Dear Dominic", he said quietly.

"I've really been looking forward to seeing you - every sweet little inch of you - again.

"I had such a good time last time you called.

"And I'm sure you did too."

Oblivious to the fact that Dominic's sphincter clenched violently and involuntarily at that point, Bellerophon continued…

"I know how eager you are to do anything you can to help me", he hissed.

"Isn't that right?"

Dominic's sphincter clenched once again with an involuntarily spasm.

When Bellerophon was at his oiliest and most sinister, like this, there was invariably something bad - something painfully bad - in the offing.

The young boy winced as his nipple was given an even firmer, rougher pinch.

"Yes, sir", he gasped through gritted teeth, knowing that to display merely the slightest sign of discomfort was to invite his Bellerophon to inflict even more - and more ingenious - pain.

"Just tell me what you want me to do."

It took Bellerophon a good half hour or so to explain to Dominic exactly the task he was required to fulfil.

He enjoyed doing so.

It always excited him to imagine and to plot the pain he was intending to inflict on others.

And so, after 30 minutes of tweaking the boy's nipple, biting his neck almost to the point of drawing blood and squeezing him so hard that Dom was, at times, fighting for breath, Bellerophon had worked himself up to the point where he needed release.

Roughly he stripped off Dominic's clothes and threw them aside, shoved the boy face down on the floor and pushed his legs wide apart, revealing the dark hole, surrounded by a small area of the softest, downiest hair…

Dominic, knowing better than to show even the faintest sign of resistance, tried to relax while preparing himself for the worst.

But, much to his surprise, Bellerophon then moved back to sit on the floor in front of him, before lifting up the boy's head and clamping it firmly onto his own rapidly hardening dick.

Dominic knew, without being told, exactly what he had to do.

Using his teeth, he took the zipper of Bellerophon's pants and slowly began easing it down, so revealing a bulging mass of white cotton, with an apparently vigorous life of its own, underneath.

Slowly he began to run his tongue over the rough surface of the fabric, his tongue darting underneath the fly…

At the very moment that the boy did so, at a gesture from Bellerophon the still naked and now fully erect Cyprian knelt behind Dominic and between his legs, spreading them even wider as he leaned forward and pressed his hard and well-proportioned dick firmly and mercilessly into Dom's ass.

And, as Cyprian's dick buried itself to the hilt in the warmth of the young boy's reluctant hole, the robot leaned forward even further and eagerly and passionately kissed the full, dark yet intensely cruel lips of Bellerophon Black III.

© Rob Maynard / HMBoys.com 2004 - 2007

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