Becoming Grandpas Slave


I : How It Began

I was born in August 1989 into a middle-class family living in the suburbs. My parents were involved in a car accident when I was just 3, leaving me in the care of my grandparents who lived a little outside the city. I remember my childhood being mostly happy, and I loved living in their big house with a great garden. However, when I was 5 my grandmother passed away, leaving just me and my grandpa, Bruce. He was 65, but still in pretty good condition as he kept busy with maintaining the old house and expansive garden. He was balding a little, and his face was beginning to age yet when I look at photos of him now he still seems very attractive. My favourite photo of him shows him working in his beloved garden wearing just a pair of shorts that barely covered his toned ass. His chest and arms were thick and muscled, tanned and coated with fine blonde hair. His short brown hair was just beginning to thin, and was matted to his face with sweat, his features glistening in the afternoon sun. His nipples protruded about a half inch from his chest, thick and hard. The workshorts he wore were stretched tight against his hard legs and ass, and the bulge of his long cock was clearly visible.

As to my appearance, I was told I resembled my father. I had blonde hair that my grandpa let me grow down to my shoulders. I had blue eyes, and sharp features, both inherited from my dad. My skin was smooth and white, despite the time I spent running around in the sun. As a very active kid who ate nothing but healthy homegrown veges I was very slim and my body was perfect. Despite this, I was never arrogant, always polite and cheerful, a result of my grandparents' strict upbringing.

My grandpa had hired a private tutor to educate me at home with the money left to me in my parent's will, so I was for the most part cut off from other children my age. Grandpa too was fairly isolated from the rest of society, making just one or two trips to the nearest town each week. He thrived on being self-sufficient. Besides my tutor, who came 4 days a week, the only other contact we had with the outside world came in the form of a farm hand my grandparents would hire each summer when there was more work to be done than grandpa could manage. They usually hired out-of-towners who needed work and a place to stay - they paid well, provided meals and had a small cottage built on the property to house the worker. Most of the men hired were nice to me, sometimes playing games with me, or helping me with my studies. However, the year after my grandmother died, my grandpa hired a worker who seemed different to the others.

For the most part, he ignored me, only dealing with me when he absolutely had to. He was very polite to my grandpa, however, always doing as he asked and working very hard for him. Like most other men hired to work on the property, Tommy was a college student working between terms. He was 20, tall and athletic, with short black hair and strong features. He was very handsome, but so were the men my grandparents had hired in previous seasons. Until this year, I never gave it any thought, but even with my youthful naivity I could sense that something was different. I tried to talk to my grandpa about it but he assured me that he was just a helper like all the other boys I had met. As the weeks went on I became more and more convinced that there was something going on between my grandpa and his young helper - I would walk in on hushed conversations which would stop as soon as I appeared, and late at night I could hear cries coming from either my grandpa's room or the cottage behind our house. One evening I decided to investigate these strange sounds, fearing for my grandpa. I ate dinner with the two older men, watched a little tv with them, as was our normal nightly ritual, and after grandpa bathed me and put me to bed I lay awake listening intently to the sounds they made. After almost an hour, I heard the back door open and close, and from my window I could see the two men crossing the garden towards the cottage. I put on a coat and snuck down after them, waiting for them to enter the building before I crept across the lawn after them.

The cottage had 3 rooms - a living room with a joining kitchen, a seperate bedroom and a bathroom. I crept up to a window facing into the living room and saw the room dark and empty; they must have gone into the bedroom and closed the door. I quietly opened the main door and closed it behind me. I snuck across the floor and approached the door, putting my ear to the door. I could hear muffled voices, mostly my grandpa's I noticed, and creaking noises of the bed. This continued for a few minutes, and I was about to turn and go back to bed when I heard a sharp cracking noise followed by a cry. I couldn't identify the voice anymore, and immediately I panicked, thinking my grandpa had been hurt. The cracking noises continued, the cries became louder and more pained, and I became afraid. I grabbed the door handle and threw it open, expecting to rush in and save grandpa from his attacker. What I saw instead confused me greatly at the time; it was, in fact, my first exposure to the S&M fetish my grandpa later involved me in.

The room was dark, lit only by 2 candles on a bedside table. Tommy was laying face down on the bed, his wrists and ankles tied to the bed posts with leather straps. He was naked - this was the first time I had seen a man naked, and though all I saw was his muscled back and ass, I felt a stir within me. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could make out another figure standing at the foot of the bed. I saw movement, an arm flying through the air, and in the dark of the room I saw a black whip lash the back of the college boy. He cried out with pain, and without realising it I cried out in shock. At this, both men turned suddenly to the door, to me. Tommy cried "Oh shit!" and tried to cover up, to no avail as he was still trapped on the bed. My grandpa, the man at the foot of the bed rushed towards me. He knelt in front of me and took me in his arms, hugging me close to him. "It's okay, it's okay," he assured me, pulling my face down against his naked chest. After a few moments in which we calmed down, he held me in front of him, looked me in the eyes and told me to turn around right now and go straight back to my room, that he would be there shortly. I looked down and saw that he too was naked, and that his cock was hard, sticking out from his body. I nodded and silently walked out of the house and back to my bedroom, confused and slightly excited by what I had witnessed. I sat on my bed and waited for my grandpa to come up.

A few minute later I heard footsteps padding up the stairs. Tommy appeared, wearing just a pair of jeans, followed by my grandpa in briefs and a t-shirt. He came and sat down beside me and put an arm around me. "Aaron, what you saw out there was just me and Tommy playing a game, a grown-up game, okay?" I nodded, unable to look at either of them, my head swimming. "Promise me you won't say anything about this to anyone, okay son? Just forget you saw anything. Please Aaron, forget it." I looked up at him and nodded, looked over at Tommy who was leaning casually against the wall. I opened my mouth to ask Grandpa why his cock was hard, why Tommy was screaming, but he put a finger to his lips silencing me. He got up without a word and he and Tommy left the room.

As he left, I saw several long red marks on Tommy's muscled back. I lay awake all night replaying the scene in my head, trying to put it together, but unable to work it out. The next morning Tommy was packed, and about to leave when I woke up. He said nothing to me as he walked up the drive to the main road, leaving my grandpa standing on the steps. I went out to him and put an arm around his waist and he tussled my hair. He took me into the kitchen and made awkward small talk while he poured me some cereal. I couldn't hold my questions any longer.

"Grandpa, what was happening last night?"

"Like I told you son, I was playing a game."

"But why were you hitting Tommy? Why was he crying?"

"Well, part of this game is one man being stronger than the other. I was being stronger than Tommy, that's all."

"Wasn't he hurt?"

"A little, but that's part of the game too. Part of what makes it fun - the strong one likes hurting the little one, and the little one likes getting hurt."

I sat silently, thinking this over. I didn't really understand why my grandpa enjoyed hurting the other man, and how anyone could enjoy being hurt. I carried on asking questions.

"Why were you both naked?"

"Aaron...that's...just part of the game. Please just-"

"And why was your willy so big?"

At this, he went silent. He looked worried, but looked me in the eye and told me something that would change my life forever.

"Aaron, your Grandpa isn't like other men. He....enjoys being with other men. He likes to play this game with them, to hurt them and show them how strong he is. He likes to play with their willys, and he likes them to play with his. And when we play this game, we take off all our clothes so that we can play with each other and it feels good. But you shouldn't worry about this Aaron, just go on as normal,okay?"

I let his words sink in; even as a young kid, I had some notion that what my grandpa had just confessed to me was somehow different and even dangerous. And yet I was excited, in a way I had never been before. My stomach was in knots and there was a stirring in my groin that I had never noticed before.

"Grandpa...can I play the game with you?"

He looked at me intently, thought it over for almost a minute before he replied...."Yes son, you can."