“Slave meets master in this steamy hot story of leather and lust, set in the cruddy confines of an abandoned animal cage in an old, closed down zoo. True grit for the tough reader who can take a huge Honcho dose of the stuff that puts cream in your jeans!”

By Anonymous

(Honcho.July.1981.)

“Meet me at noon near the lion’s cage at the old Hillside Zoo. Be ready for anything.”

The note that Joey received was brief and to the point. There wasn’t any signature and he had no idea of who’d sent the message. He’d been to the cage once before for a rugged session with a tough top man. “Maybe it’s him,” he thought, though he had no way of really knowing. He was not accustomed to blind dates nor hap­hazard rendezvous. There was, how­ever, something incredibly intriguing to him about the commanding attitude of the message scrawled in abrupt, sloppy letters on a grimy slice of meat wrapping paper.

The message read more like an order than an invitation and Joey had a definite weakness for command. He could say “no” to anyone who asked him something but was always tempted to say “yes” when told to do almost anything. Perhaps that’s why he found himself driving to the old Hillside Zoo at eleven thirty a.m. on that designated Saturday morning, a victim of curiosity as well as intrigue.

The zoo was a dilapidated collection of burned out concession stands, rusted, broken down joy rides and, of course, cages. The place had been closed for almost fifteen years. There’s something haunting about a weatherworn amusement park, a former facade of fun and frolic, evolved, through ruthless economics and the pace of progress, into a decadent display of has-been haunted houses and shabby sideshows. Joey found a rotted sign inscribed in peel­ing paint that led him to the lion’s cage.

The cage was a rundown coop, composed of a decaying cement wall on one side and rusted bars on the roof and the other three sides. A small door led to the retreat room where the animals had been able to seek refuge from the endless crowds of jeering spectators who passed by them daily. In spite of its slum like condition, it was still a functional arena of confine­ment, a place where escape might nevertheless remain an insurmount­able challenge.

Suddenly, Joey felt a stiff, powerful hand slap a rugged grip onto the top of his shoulder. He turned around and saw a beefy looking chunk of macho man standing behind him. The dude was dressed from head to toe in black leather. He was a devilish display of cowhide and chains, wrapping up a rock hard, all butch body. He stared at Joey through stern charcoal eyes with the same ruthless intensity that Satan views a victim whose soul he has come to claim.

“So, you’re the one who sent the note.” Joey commented.

“I’ve never seen you before, how do you know me?” The man jerked Joey a foot off the ground by the back of his neck and flung him into a corner of the cage like a sack of potatoes. “You’re not here to ask questions, pig!” the dude retorted as he slammed and locked the door leading out of the pen and stuffed the key down into his shoe.

“Listen, motherfucker, and listen good, you’re in cage and there’s only one way out and that’s through the key that I just stuck inside my boot. You can get the key if you really want it but I’m afraid you’ll have to earn the use of it.”

“Earn it?” Joey replied, confused.

The leatherman walked slowly to­wards the corner where Joey still sat slumped over and recovering from the fall. The man stuck a huge, greasy work boot against Joey’s throat and then pushed down, cutting off more than half of Joe’s air supply.

“Look asshole,” the dude instructed, as Joey turned beet red and gasped for oxygen, “you’ll talk when I tell ya to talk, you’ll do what I say, or you’ll pay the price for dis­obeying me, do you understand?” Desperate for air and afraid to speak, Joey gave the devil the affirmative nod that he wanted.

“Stand up!” the leatherman com­manded. Immediately, Joey was on his feet. He grabbed the helpless servant by the foot and yanked him back down to the ground.

“Stand up again, pig!*’ he insisted.

Joey arose to his feet once again and the commander ripped off his worn denim vest like it was a piece of tissue paper. He yanked down Joey’s jeans, and then delivered a stiff, wicked slap against the prisoner’s firm, humpy ass.

“God damn it.” Joey yelled.

The leatherman whacked him again. “Wanna bitch about that one, too? I’d be happy to smack your ass every time you complain.” Joey said nothing.

“Take off your jeans, motherfucker!”

Joey removed his pants, then stood naked in the huge cage, his lean, well built frame unprotected from the violent leather hulk standing before him.

“Stand against those bars!” the master said. Slowly, Joey moved against the iron rods. “Raise up your arms!”

As Joey lifted his hands into the air, the stranger immediately tied his wrists to the long, rusted poles.

“I’m gonna teach you somethin’ about bein’ an animal! I’m gonna teach you real good!” He formed his chunky, calloused fingers into a teething vice, placed them around Joey’s nipples, twisted the soft rubberlike cylinders of flesh and then yanked them down. Joey moaned loudly as the leatherman tugged, twisted and tore at his tits again and again but he didn’t say a word for fear of reprisal. Then, the master delivered a swift, severe slap against his captive slave’s face.

“Want me to do that again, asshole?”

“No,” Joey responded, a hint of terror in his voice. Immediately, the man slapped him again.

“No — what?”

“No what!” the number said.

“No, sir!” Joey responded.

“That’s better, fuck-boy,” the hulky dude replied.

Then the big master spread Joey’s legs apart with a stiff, leathered el­bow. He dug a thick, grimy finger into his prisoner’s asshole and Joey turned and gritted his teeth as the macho man shoved in two, three, four, mas­sive ungreased fingers. He abruptly untied his wrists.

“Get down on your knees, pig, my boots are dirty!” He forced Joey’s handsome young face onto the filthy soot on his work boots.

“Stick out your tongue and lick these motherfuckers.” Slowly, Joey allowed his tongue to emerge from his mouth as the leatherman pushed his face onto the crud-caked boots. Joey’s throat was filled with the dank, raunchy taste of earth, as he licked and swallowed oily chunks of mud from his master’s shoes.

The leatherman gave Joey a swift kick in the ass with his newly shined boots and sent Joey face forwards onto the grimy cement floor of the cage.

“Get on your hands like a pig, boy!” he commanded. Joey did as he was told.

“Stick that pig ass up in the air and let me see it!” Joey pushed his firm, hair covered haunches up towards his waiting master.

“Spread that fuckin’ ass!” the butch dude exclaimed as he delivered a stinging slap to Joey’s rear. Joey reached back, spread his cheeks and pushed his butt up as high as the straining muscles of his back would allow him. Leather-daddy stood in front of Joey showing him the throb­bing bulge pounding beneath the cow­hide pouch of his animal skin pants.

“Open up these snaps with your mouth!”

Joey bit down on the leather and struggled to tear open the huge fly with his teeth. Finally, the snaps came loose and a huge pulsating pound of beet red ramrod pushed its way out of the confinement of the leather. The master walked behind Joey’s spread ass, got down on his knees and ruth­lessly shoved the entire ten inch shaft right up Joey’s ungreased ass! Joey fell forward as he emitted one long, agonized groan. The stranger mounted him and began ramming him again and again and again.

Joey was a caged animal on the floor of the pen, a dog behind bars as the evil trainer fucked him like a pig. His face was filthy and greasy from licking the master’s boots, his skin grimy and bruised from the abrasive scrapes of the cement and the brutal treatment from his anonymous guard. The leatherman slapped his ass into two bright pink haunches of hot ‘n sore flesh as he screwed him. Again and again, Joey felt the long, butchering pillar jam­ming in and out of him like a high powered dynamo. His asshole burned from the friction created by the massive, unlubricated shaft that drilled into him over and over, a giant piston delivering a relentless series of caus­tic blasts deep into his guts.

Abruptly, the raunchy rapist yanked his dick from the depths of Joey’s bowels.

“Suck it now, pig! Lick the juice and scum off of my meat!”

Joey wrapped his lips around the huge peg, then lapped and slurped it clean. The master grabbed Joey by the hair and forced his face all the way down on the pulsating post, causing Joey to gag as the shank was rammed into his throat. Then, the leatherman ripped the meat out of the animal’s mouth and stood a few feet in front of him. He started stroking his cock, faster and faster and faster. Suddenly, he hurled a white, molten wad of sadistic sperm onto the cruddy floor of the cage.

“Crawl over here and eat it!” he commanded. Like the trapped animal that he was, Joey inched his way over to the sticky puddle, still quivering like nervous gelatin on the bottom of the pan. In a humiliating display of com­plete obedience, he lapped up the load off the ground.

“Get over to the far corner of the cell!” the leatherman instructed.

Joey obeyed. The master unlocked the door, left the cell, then, imme­diately shut and relocked the exit. He walked around to the front of the cage, then, from a few feet away, tossed the key through the bars and disappeared into the shadows.