Christopher & Craig
Part 39: Putting An End To Slave Trading?
Craig was asleep when I opened the bedroom door. All his time outside today must have tired him out. Fresh air will do that to a boy! I climbed into bed with him and drifted off.
The next morning I awoke with an idea. Craig had really gotten into being tied to the tree all day. So had I. Bondage was never my thing before, but with Craig it had opened up a whole new world.
Craig’s head was on my chest. He was still sleeping soundly. I stroked his blonde hair. He would have fun today.
He stirred and tilted his head to look at me with sleepy eyes. “Good morning, Master.”
“Good morning, Craig.”
“How may I serve you?”
Craig showered and dressed first, then went downstairs to prepare breakfast while I got ready. It was just your typical happy couple’s normal routine.
While he cleaned up from breakfast I went out back. I wasn’t a huge fan of the great outdoors. Roughing it to me—as they say—was a hotel without room service. But I had bought this house because of its large yard and secluded location. I could keep a harem of men here and nobody would be the wiser. There was an idea...
I crossed the yard to the old barn. I hardly ever came here; it was mostly a storage shed now. I pulled open the shabby wooden door. After rooting around a bit I found what I was looking for.
I slung the sawhorse over my shoulder and carried it back to the patio. This would be perfect.
“Craig,” I called. “Come out here.”
He appeared in the doorway. “Yes, Master?”
“Fetch the clothesline. It’s out by the tree.”
“Yes, Master!” He hurried into the yard and retrieved the rope.
He handed it to me.
I dropped it nearby.
His face fell.
I pulled him toward me and began kissing his mouth.
He pressed against me and kissed me back. He knew something was coming. I could feel his fingers in my hair and his cock against my hip.
I reached for the button on his cutoffs. I tugged the zipper down and the shorts slid down his legs.
He explored my mouth with his tongue even as he stepped out of the cutoffs.
I laced my fingers with his and pulled his arms over his head. He kept them there as I reached for his T-shirt. I pulled it off his head. He gasped for air then devoured my mouth again.
We continued kissing; his body pressed to mine. I backed him slowly toward the sawhorse.
In one swift motion I spun him around and pushed him over the sawhorse. I grabbed the rope and tied his right foot to the right leg of the sawhorse, then his left foot to the left leg.
“Master, what are you—?” he asked, trying to see me.
“Be a good boy,” I said, pressing the back of his neck down.
I tied his hands to the other two legs of the sawhorse. He was bound over it, legs spread, ass sticking up in the air, in briefs and socks, totally helpless.
“Are you a good boy?” I asked.
“Yes, Master!” he replied eagerly.
I slowly dragged his briefs down his thighs. They stretched as his legs became further and further apart.
I reached between his legs and pumped his hard cock.
“Are you sure you’re a good boy?”
“Yes, Master!”
There was nowhere for him to go. Nothing for him to do. He was at my mercy. Lucky for him I’m a merciful Master.
Well, usually. I had a passing thought about Mitch Driver. He had been sucked into something he had no control over—literally—all because of Craig and me.
There were consequences to every action. Especially when hypnosis enters the picture. Craig and I met; he became my boy, thereby disappearing from his own life. Mitch was assigned to his missing person’s case. He followed a lead to Leatherman’s club. Leatherman lusted after the boy who came in feigning interest in hypnosis. I met Mitch and agreed to make him over into Leatherman’s dream boy. Mitch Driver’s life was taken from him; he became a mindless Bootboy, programmed only to serve.
Now, I could rationalize that it was Mitch’s misrepresentation of his own identity that set this chain of events into motion. But the truth was that as vile a man as he had been in his natural state, I had a problem justifying his current status as Leatherman’s slave. I had stripped away all his thought processes—save the basic ones—pre-programming him for the menial tasks he would perform. If only Leatherman would have accepted a slave who could think for himself...
The telephone’s ring jarred me back to reality.
Craig was moaning and whimpering from the constant stroking I had been giving his cock.
I stopped abruptly. “Think about how good you’ve been lately, Craig. I’ll be back.”
“Yes, Master,” he croaked.
I picked up the kitchen extension.
“Christopher? Leatherman.”
“I was just thinking about you,” I said. “How are things working out with Bootboy?”
“I’m having more fun than I ever imagined! Right now he’s sitting here panting.”
“What did you do to him?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.
“He’s got on his collar.”
“Oh.” That was a relief.
“Listen, I’m having a few buddies over tonight to see him. I was thinking they’d probably want boys of their own. You up for doing more?”
“No. No way!”
“Christopher, think about it. We could go into business. I could find the guys here at the club and you could make them into whatever their Master orders.”
“No way. I’m not a slave trader, Leatherman. It’s immoral.” I stopped before mentioning how guilty I felt over what I’d done to Mitch. Leatherman would never understand.
“But we could charge a fortune. Who wouldn’t want a made-to-order boy?”
“You can’t sell humans. Don’t you have any conscience, Leatherman?”
“Nope. I think you’re missing a prime opportunity. You’d get the larger cut of the money for your time training the boys. I’d just take a finder’s fee off the top for locating the boy and brokering the deal.”
“We can’t just steal men’s lives from them. Any more disappearances and the police will be back on our case.”
“The police never found anything. Craig showed up to fix things. And Mitch didn’t disappear. It could work out.”
“You’re still taking these men’s lives form them. Look at Mitch! He has no thoughts, no will, no name even! He never signed on for any of that. We took away his life.”
“Christopher, half the boys who come to my club would give their eyeteeth to be somebody’s live-in slave. That’s what they come here looking for—a Master to take them home. They’d volunteer, for Chri’sake.”
That stopped me for a second. If it was consensual, how wrong would it be to alter a boy’s personality to make him more servile? Wasn’t that why it was okay with Craig? He had an interest in hypnosis and had professed a desire to be someone’s slave. Granted I had magnified the situation without his conscious knowledge...
“You can’t argue with that, can you?” Leatherman asked.
“No,” I said. “But give me a minute. There’s got to be something wrong with it.”
“I know when my buddy Donald sees Bootboy he’s going to want one. And he’s got the money to buy anybody he wants.”
“Leatherman, no. Don’t tell anybody how you got Bootboy.”
“You want to stay anonymous, fine. But I’m letting Donald pick out a boy.”
“I said no!”
“Christopher, you’re too provincial. Think big. I’ll make sure the boy is a willing victim.”
“Victim?” I repeated.
“What would you call it? Volunteer?”
“This isn’t right, Leatherman.”
“Donald’s into all sorts of things. You could try new methods. I know you like to experiment, Christopher. You can’t deny it to me. When I have a willing boy I’ll call you. ‘Bye.”
“Wait!” I said, but the phone clicked in my ear.
Now what? I never should have started this. Leatherman was going to blow everything. I had to stop him. But how? Wait. There was no real proof I had ever encountered Mitch/Bootboy, let alone hypnotized him. And Craig could show up in his other state at any time to counter any claims Leatherman might make. It was Leatherman’s word against mine. Even if he did set up some sort of deal I just wouldn’t put the boy under. It was as simple as that.
This was stressing me out. Having a trained slave should be a source of pleasure and comfort, not constant anxiety. I felt tense all over. I walked back outside to Craig.
There was his ass, open, ready, waiting.
I unzipped my pants.
He tried to crane his neck to see me, to no avail.
I stood behind him.
“Please, Master,” he said.
I slid my cock inside him. I worked him over good. He was sweating and panting and begging. The only thought on my mind was my helpless slave and how best to fuck him.
“Please, Master!” he cried.
I knew it was time.
“Cum, Craig!”
We shot at the same time.
Then I pulled up my pants and went inside.
He could stay there awhile.
To be continued in Part 40...
Christopher & Craig
Part 40: Running Mike’s Life.
Mike looked uncomfortable when I opened the door. Actually pained might better describe his expression.
And his hand was still moving inside his pants.
Well, one thing was for sure: post-hypnotic suggestions worked well on him. I smiled warmly at him.
“Come on in, Mike.”
He walked in and kicked off his sneakers. “Hi, Christopher.”
“How are you?”
“Good,” he replied, though his tone betrayed his answer.
“What’s new?”
“Nothing much.” His face was red.
“How was your day off?”
“It was okay.” That hand kept stroking.
“Did you do anything fun and exciting?”
“Not really.”
It was probably mean-spirited to stand here asking him stupid questions while he was obviously in distress.
“Would you like something to drink?”
He nodded slowly. “Please.”
I led the way into the kitchen. “What would you like?”
“Anything’s fine.” He grunted.
I poured two glasses of iced tea and handed him one. His left hand raised the glass to his lips. His right was working hard on that cock of his.
I took a sip. “It’s good, isn’t it?”
He nodded. “Thanks.”
He drained the glass and set it on the counter.
“Have you had enough? " I asked. It was a loaded question.
“Yes.”
“Queer Pizza Boy.”
Mike’s eyes slid shut, but his hand kept moving.
“Mike, how do you feel?”
“Sore,” he replied.
“Why are you sore?”
“I can’t stop jerking off.”
“Yes, you can. Your hand will stop right now.”
No sooner did I say it than his hand stopped moving.
“Relax your arms at your sides.”
He pulled his hand out of his pants.
It was red and covered in cum.
“Michael, you’re a very good boy. You did exactly as you were told. And for that I will reward you. You will not jerk off anymore. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Say it. You will not jerk off anymore.”
“I will not jerk off anymore.”
“That’s a good boy. Because you must have permission to cum. But we’ll get to that. For now you are not allowed to jerk off. Your cock is not your own anymore. I own it. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“You may no longer jerk off unless I tell you to. Because you want to be a good boy, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“That’s good. Let’s have a seat in the den.”
He followed me back down the hall. Once we were settled I continued.
“Mike, do you work out?”
“I run sometimes.”
“How much do you run?”
“A couple miles.”
“How often?”
“On my days off.”
“Mike, beginning today you will run everyday. You will not be able to go to bed at night until you have run. You will feel an overwhelming need to go out and run every night of your life. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“No matter how late it is, or how tired you feel, you will have to run before you can go to bed. If you try to skip a day you will not be able to eat or sleep until you go out and run. It will become your only thought, blotting out all others, until you give in and run. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“What will you do?’
“Run.”
“When?”
“Every night.”
“Good boy. Queer Pizza Boy. After you run what will you do?”
“Go to bed.”
“Before you go to bed.”
“Get undressed.”
“That’s true. But after you run you will go home and work out more. You are going to need to buff up if you are going to be taking off your clothes. When you get home you will do 50 push-ups and 50 crunches. Say it.”
“I will do 50 push-ups and 50 crunches.”
“That’s good. We’ll start there and work up. You’re going to be in incredible shape soon. You’ll enjoy showing off your body more and more. You like to see people’s reactions to your body. Especially men. You like the looks of envy and desire they give you. Don’t you, Mike?”
“Yes.”
“Say it. Say I like when men desire me.”
“I like when men desire me.”
“Say it again. And this time know that it’s true.”
“I like when men desire me!”
“You like to make them want you. Say it.”
“ I like to make them want me.”
“Men will want you, Mike. You’ll see. Very soon. And it will excite you. You will have power over them. And you’ll like that.”
I glanced at the clock. It was later than I’d realized. And Craig was still stripped and bound to a sawhorse on the patio.
“I think that’s enough for tonight. You still have to run before you can go to bed. You’ll return here tomorrow as usual. Remember, Michael, you must do your workout every night. And you are not allowed to jerk off. Do you have any questions?”
“No.”
“No, what?”
“No...sir?”
“Good boy! You should always answer me ‘yes, sir’ or ‘no, sir’. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good boy. You like it when I call you good boy. You feel very proud when you’re a good boy. Don’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s my good boy. My Queer Pizza Boy. I will count to three and you’ll awaken. And all of the new instructions you’ve received will become a part of you. 1...2...3.”
Mike opened his eyes.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” I asked.
“Yes, sir,” he replied. His eyebrows raised in surprise.
I grinned. “You’re a good boy, Mike.”
His expression changed from quizzical to pleased.
“Goodnight.”