Pony Boy

This is the third chapter of 'Pony Boy' and, if you haven't read the rest, then please do so first. Quite a bit of the story refers back to events in the earlier parts and it won't make much sense if you read them out of order.

And, of course, there are the usual disclaimers; anyone involved in sexual acts is over eighteen and we're all fictional.

**Important**

I'm probably going to upset many of my readers with this chapter. I have been urged to write some sort of 'Pretty Woman' type of love affair between Ben and Andy Mason. That was, indeed, my original intention. However, as the story developed it became more and more clear that Andy Mason has to be a major figure in London's organised crime. This, as far as I am concerned, makes him a bad person and I don't want Ben to end up as his lover.

Driven by this the story will take a rather darker route. Ben's road to happiness will have one or two twists along the way. Will Ben actually find happiness? Well, that would be telling.

If you are one of the readers who was looking for a romance between Ben and Mr Mason then you may not want to read any further. That's not going to happen. On the other hand, if you want to find out if Ben does find love, and with whom....

Enjoy the story.

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Chapter 3 -- And they're off...

The bed was so comfortable; like sleeping on a cloud. I rolled over, gradually waking up. There was a quick flash of panic as I wondered where the fuck I was, and then another panic of a different sort when I remembered. I opened my eyes and looked across the bed. He wasn't there but I could hear noises coming from the bathroom which suggested he would be back any minute.

I really didn't know what was expected of me. What was the protocol? Was I supposed to slip out unseen, picking up the money from the dressing table on the way out, or was Herr Schlitz expecting to find a hot and horny little slut ready and waiting to do his every bidding? Given that the only item of clothing I possessed was the raincoat Mr. Mason had given me on the way out of the party, I didn't have too many choices.

Herr Schlitz seemed to be taking his time so I got out of bed and looked out of the windows. The view stretched right across Docklands with the Millennium Dome in the distance and really was fantastic. It brought back memories of the previous night and, with this in mind, I leant forward and put my arms against the glass. I could appreciate the way this made my bum stick out and I gave it a little wiggle.

"Ah, ein nackter Junge am Fenster! Das ist schön zu sehen. Very pretty. Very good to see in the morning," Herr Schlitz said, coming out of the en-suite. "Stillhalten! Stay still, stay where you are."

I looked round to see him standing there in a white towelling dressing gown.

"Did I not tell you to stay where you are? Kiss the glass." He came up behind me and smacked my backside hard enough to make me squeak with pain and, to cover this I leant forward to do as I was told. Of course, pushing my face to the glass just made my arse stick out more. He moved closer, kicked my legs further apart, and he must have undone his dressing gown as I felt his bare thighs pressing against the back of mine, his prick between my arse cheeks. He took off the belt from his dressing gown, doubled it up, looped it around my neck and fastened it off, not tight enough to stop me breathing but tight enough to let me know it was there.

"This is how you like it, isn't it? You like to be the pony, yes?" He gave a tug on my 'reins'. "You like to be a pony for a rider who is hard, really hard, don't you."

"Yes, Herr Schlitz, yes please."

All the time he was pushing with his hips, rubbing himself against me. I wondered how far he was going to take this, what exactly he wanted, and whether my backside was up to it, when we were disturbed by a knocking at the door.

"That is good, I am ready for my breakfast. Go and see to the door." Herr Schlitz dropped the 'reins', stood back and let me move away from the window. I knew better than to make any comments about my nakedness but I reached for the dressing gown belt around my neck and started to take it off. I felt his hand on my arm and turned to look at him.

"No, you are good with the rope. Moment." He adjusted the dressing gown belt so that the free end was hanging down in front, not at the back. "You were good, now you are better. Go! Tell the maid to bring the breakfast to the bedroom; I will eat it in my bed."

I went to the door and answered it. It was, indeed, room service with a breakfast trolley. She kept her face pretty impassive when she saw me but I did see a flicker of a smile as she glanced down and checked out my prick which was still standing proud.

"Herr Schlitz will be having breakfast in bed," I told her. She nodded and wheeled the trolley through to the bedroom area where he was now back under the covers. The maid parked up the trolley next to the bed, fetched out a bed tray from underneath and laid it across his lap. On top of this she then placed the various plates, removing their cloches to reveal a German breakfast of rolls, pumpernickel, ham, cheese and boiled eggs. A coffee pot held the thick dark almost Turkish coffee that the Germans like to drink.

"My apologies, Herr Schlitz, we were unaware that you had a guest with you. Would you like me to fetch another breakfast?"

"No, this is good, Maria. There is plenty enough here for the two of us. Thank you."

"You're very welcome, Herr Schlitz," she said as she turned and left.

"And now, my Flittchen, meine kleine Flittchen, we will have breakfast together. Come here." He reached across the bed and flicked back the covers to indicate that I should get in. As soon as I was in reach he grabbed the dressing gown cord around my neck and pulled, forcing me to scoot over until I was right up next to him.

"Is meine kleine Flittchen hungry? Shall I butter a roll for you?"

"Yes, please, Herr Schlitz."

"But if I am buttering the rolls what will you be doing? Only those who work are allowed to eat, that is only right, is it not? Be careful not to spill anything."

It took a second or two to work out what he meant about not spilling anything and then the penny dropped; there was only one way I was going to 'earn' breakfast. I reached my arm out, under the covers. His dressing gown was wide open and I quickly found the firm washboard of his abs. Being very careful not to upset the bed tray I reached lower and the tips of my fingers found his prick. Herr Schlitz gave a little sigh.

"Ah, that is good, but not good enough," he laughed. "Come on, little Flittchen, or you shall go hungry."

I stretched a little further and was able to take his prick in my fist.

"Is that how you like it or," I adjusted my grip so I was holding him with my finger tips, "is this better?"

"The first way, I think. Yes, like that, not too fast. We don't want any accidents."

So I lay there and stroked his prick as he had his breakfast. From time to time he would hold out bits for me to eat. Although it was weird it was also rather nice, lying there snuggled together sharing together. Herr Schlitz seemed to be enjoying it; he was certainly hard enough. While we ate he started to chat.

"So, meine kleine Flittchen, you are not like the others. You have no tattoos."

"I don't like tattoos."

"This is good. So many of the boys are too quick to mark themselves. You are very hübsche... pretty without any marks. If you were mine..."

"But I am yours, Herr Schlitz."

"Only for a little time. Then you must go back to Mr. Mason and belong to him again."

"Please, Herr Schlitz, don't let's talk about that. I like being yours, if only for a little while."

"Sweet words, my little Hure! You wish that I should pay you more?"

"It's not like that," I blushed.

"How prettily you lie to me. I might almost believe you. Here, I will give you extra pumpernickel."

"Please, Herr Schlitz... It really is not like that. I'm not a Hure, well, I wasn't until yesterday."

"Oh, and what happened yesterday."

"I owed Mr. Mason a big favour and, in return, he asked me to make you happy. You... you were my first."

"Your first! More sweet lies!" but he looked at me long and hard. "But perhaps they are not lies. Perhaps you tell the truth. Never trust a Hure, but, if you are not a Hure..."

"Oh, but I am now, I'm your Hure."

"Then I shall not trust you," he said laughing. "And now It it getting late. I have business to attend to but, before I go I think that you also have business to attend to." He looked at the bed tray. We had finished breakfast but, even so, I was a bit slow that morning. "Come on, meine kleine Hure, it is time to earn your money."

I slipped out of bed, picked the bed tray up off his lap and took it through to the kitchenette. When I returned he had thrown back the covers and was lying there, legs akimbo, with his prick standing proud. I grabbed a condom from the bedside drawer, ripped open the packet, and slipped it on him. Then I scooted up between his legs and did my best to please him.

I took my time, partially because I was still under orders to give Herr Schlitz the best time ever and, partially, because I liked the feel of his prick in my mouth. It felt so deliciously naughty to break all those boring middle class rules I had been brought up with. Fuck them and their petite bourgeois conventions. There was something very fine about having man's prick in my mouth, especially a man as powerful as Herr Schlick. It was my tongue, my lips, my mouth that controlled his pleasure.

Mind you, that didn't last. A man like Herr Schlitz needs to be in control. He reached down, took my head in his hands and, in a very real sense, fucked my face. It didn't take much of that before he exploded in my mouth. Again, I wished he hadn't been wearing a condom. I wanted the taste, the sensation of him pumping his spunk into me.

He lay back and relaxed and, as soon as he was flaccid, I slipped the condom off him and took it into the en-suite to flush it away. When I returned he was out of bed and over by the wardrobe getting dressed.

There wasn't much I could do so I went and grabbed an apple out off the discarded breakfast tray and lay on the bed, watching him as I ate it.

He hadn't quite finished getting dressed when there was a knock at the door and, this time, I didn't need to be asked. I threw the apple core away and ran to the door where I found Mr. Mason waiting outside. He looked at me, looked particularly at the dressing gown cord which was still round my neck, and smiled. He was carrying one of those huge carrier bags you get from the West End stores and he handed it to me.

"Herr Schlitz is still getting dressed," I announced. "If you'd care to take a seat I'll..."

"Andy! Good morning. You are well?" Herr Schlitz appeared from the bedroom.

"I'm fine, Hans. Are you ready to leave?"

"In two minutes I will be finished here."

"No problem. When you're ready."

Herr Schlitz disappeared back into the bedroom and Mr. Mason sat on one of the armchairs while he waited. I was evidently superfluous to requirements so I kept myself out of the way. In a lot less than two minutes Herr Schlitz reappeared, came over and gave me a kiss.

"Maybe next time, meine kleine Flittchen," he said, clutching my arse as he did so.

And then he was off. I had been dismissed and he and Mr. Mason left without a backward glance.

I took the bag Mr. Mason had given me and looked inside. I was more than a trifle relieved to find it was full of clothes; hopefully clothes for me. I took the whole lot through to the bedroom area and laid them all out on the bed. They were clothes for me and not just the ones I had worn to the pony meet. In addition there was a brand new pair of chinos, a beautiful shirt, a black leather jacket, black slip on shoes and all the accessories I could want. Everything was a perfect fit. I guessed that he had had access to the measurements Tracy had taken when I had first applied. I didn't recognise any of the labels but they certainly weren't Primark or even Marks and Sparks. But that wasn't all that was in the bag. There was a package at the bottom with my name on it. Inside I found my house keys, a brand new leather wallet with one hundred pounds inside and a letter. Well, more of a note, really, as all it said was 'Harold's Office. 11:00'.

I got dressed and looked at myself in the mirror. Talk about looking a million dollars! The leather jacket, in particular, looked fantastic. I had never been able to afford stuff like this. How generous of Mr. Mason to buy them for me.

And talking of generous, there on the dressing table was a hotel envelope with 'Meine kleine Flittchen' written on it. As this was Herr Schlitz's pet name for me I opened it up to find two hundred quid. Wrapped around the notes there was a piece of writing paper with the word 'Danke' written on it. I was up three hundred quid plus a cracking new set of clothes and I hadn't even been paid for the pony racing. Not bad for a night's work!

Just short of eleven I climbed the stairs to Mr H's office, knocked on the door and went in.

"Hi Ben, cool threads."

"Thanks, Tracy. Is Mr. H available."

"He and Mr. Mason are waiting for you." She pressed the button on the intercom. "Harold, Ben's here. Yep, I'll show him in."

I went into the office. Mr. H was sat behind his desk, Mr. Mason in an armchair.

"Take a pew, Ben, take a pew."

I sat down in the one remaining chair which had been arranged so that Mr. H, Mr. Mason and I formed a triangle.

"How did you get on with Herr Schlitz," Mr. Mason asked.

"Fine, no problems at all."

"Good, because he seemed very happy with you. And that leads me to my main point. You're on my firm now and it looks like I'm going to have quite a bit of work for you in the future."

"What sort of work?" as if I didn't know.

"I provide a service to those who are bored, or lonely, or simply those who want a bit of variety in their lives. What they're looking for is a bit of company, someone to spend some time with, someone to make them feel special; maybe they just fancy a change. That's where you come in. What I'm always short of is nice, polite young men who look smart and presentable, the sort you can take out to a good restaurant, but are also not shy when it comes to other things. You did an excellent job last night. You made the client feel special and I gather you were suitably rewarded."

"But what about my college work?"

"Oh, I still want you to carry on with that. I don't want you dropping out or anything stupid like that. I'll make sure all your bookings are in the evenings and I certainly won't call you any more than you can handle. Say one or two evenings a week. You won't be the first student who has paid their way through college with a little escort work; I can assure you of that."

There, he'd said it, escort work. Mind you, I'd been a bit of a fan of that Billie Piper thing, 'Secret Diary of a Call Girl', and that didn't make it seem too bad. I thought of the three hundred quid in my pocket. Three hundred for a night's work and I still hadn't been paid for the racing. I would only have to work one night a week and it would sort out my student loan in no time.

"Just one or two evenings a week?" I asked for confirmation.

"Whatever you're happy with."

"And what about the pony racing?" I asked Mr. H.

"Oh, we'll still want you for that. More than ever after last night," he replied.

"And, above all else, as long as you're working for me you know that you'll be safe. There are some pretty tough characters in this game and Archie isn't the only thug who will have taken an interest in our newest pony boy recruit but, now that you're in my employ, they'll leave you well alone. I'll make sure of that."

"Thanks, Mr Mason." That was the reassurance I wanted. The whole Archie thing had scared the shit out of me and, without Mr. Mason's protection, I knew I would be prey to all sorts.

"And how much will I be earning?"

"That depends a lot on the client and what services they want but you can reckon on one hundred pounds an hour, give or take. And then there will be tips on top of that."

"I didn't get one hundred pounds an hour for last night."

"Yeah, but that was a favour for me, wasn't it? Your way of saying 'thank you' for getting Archie off your back. Anyway, you didn't do too badly; you even got a nice new set of clothes out of it."

One hundred pounds an hour, plus tips! I must have been with Herr Schlitz from midnight until nine in the morning. That would have been nine hundred quid!

"I don't think I can say no, can I?"

"Good lad, Ben, good lad. Well, Harold, I think that just wraps it up for me. I'll see you down the club later, OK?" Mr. Mason got up from his chair and headed for the door. "Oh, one last thing," he said turning back towards the room. "I know you keep yourself pretty fit but I'd like to oversee your training. I've booked you in at the Chester Road gym, six o'clock, Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Ask for Albert and, don't worry, it won't cost you a thing."

"Do I have to?"

"Yes, you do. Don't let me down on this." And, with that, he was gone.

"And that just leaves the race money to be sorted," Mr. H said, reaching for his cash box. You did pretty well last night. Now, let's see..."

By the time he had finished I had a little over three hundred from the racing. It was less than last time but, as Mr. H explained, the last time had included the two hundred that Mr. Mason had put up so it was to be expected. Still, I was, all in all, over six hundred quid richer for one night's work. I'd have to flip an awful lot of burgers to earn that sort of money.

And that was it for the next few days. I didn't hear anything from either Mr. Mason or Mr. H over the weekend.

Come Monday morning I struggled out of bed and made my way down to the gym in Chester Road. If I was expecting one of those modern places with rows of treadmills and multi-gyms then I could not have been more wrong. When I entered the first thing I saw was a boxing ring and, even at this time of a Monday morning, there were a couple of lads sparring. I asked for Albert and a burly man in his fifties came over.

"And you are?"

"I'm Ben, sir. Mr. Mason said I was to come here for training."

"You're Ben, are you? Follow me." He took me through to a room at the back and told me to strip.

"What?"

"The first thing you're going to learn, sunshine, is to do as you're fuckin' told. Mr. Mason wants me to put some meat on your bones and I need to do is see what I'm working with. Kit off, now!"

Albert wasn't as scary as Archie but that was hardly the point. I took off my tracksuit and, after some encouragement from Albert, my shorts and tee shirt as well. The room was quite cold and I stood there shivering before him as he examined me as thoroughly as Mr. H had done before the races, possibly more so.

"First things first. You don't ever come into this gym unshaven."

I must have looked blank

"You're working for Mr. Mason, right?"

I nodded

"And my job is to make you look good for the clients."

"I guess so."

"You guess so? I know so, sunny Jim and the first thing you're going to do is shave, all over. Arms, legs, chest, armpits, everywhere. The punters aren't paying for some sort of gorilla, they're paying for a pretty boy and that means shaven. Don't need to shave off all your pubes but they should be neatly trimmed. What's more you need a haircut. Something smart. Now, as to your training..."

Albert allowed me to put my shorts back on but not the rest of my gear. He told me that, if I felt cold, then I should work harder and that would warm me up. But that was far from the only incentive. He coming by to watch over me and had me working so hard that keeping warm was the least of my problems. By the time the session was over I was a puddle of exhaustion. Still, Albert seemed happy with me so I had a quick shower and went home in time to get to lectures.