We arrived in Paris early the next morning. It was a warm, overcast day, the city's nineteenth-century apartment buildings gray against the gray sky. I pressed my nose to the window, trying to make out landmarks I had only seen in pictures: Beaubourg, Notre Dame, the spire of the Sainte Chapelle, the Louvre. I thought I recognized them, but I could not be sure. I had often fantasized about visiting Paris - in fact, I had been planning to at the end of my summer in Berlin - but I had never imagined I would see the City of Light as a piece of merchandise being delivered, a naked, bound, abused pleasure slave peering out from behind tinted windows.We parked on a side street so that Eddy and Karl could make use of my aching body one last time, and then we drove up a large avenue that I later learned was the Champs Elysees, turned into a side street, and turned again through a gate and into a large courtyard. They opened the rear door, unlocked the chain attaching my collar to the inside. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, but my young lust drove me to set it up and go for. We were at my house, my parents asleep. We were in our secluded tv room watching a movie. I already had a blanket ready. I thought I could use the excuse of being cold to get next to him. So nervous and trying so hard not to show it, but all I could think about was touching him. Finally, I said I was cold and picking up the blanket, I sat down close to him, throwing it over both of us. Sitting in silence, watching the movie, I slid my hand over to his thigh. My hand felt as if it was trembling as I placed it against his leg. Electricity shot through me, I felt light headed. With just the tip tip of my pinky finger, I slowly and gently began to move it against him. He didn’t protest and he didn’t move away. My cock became so hard it strained against my pants. This was the most thrilling moment of my young life, I didn’t want it to end. I only wanted more. I wanted this so bad, I slid my hand to.
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