Christopher & Craig
Part 57: Hustling.
Craig had outdone himself.
I was standing in my old abandoned barn amazed at the extent of his handiwork.
The downstairs had been cleared out, and the BMW was parked inside the back of the barn. On the ground in front of it, on a blanket, was Donald. Gone were the beautiful suit and fancy wingtips. He was stripped naked, lying on his back. His wrists were tied together and to his chest. His ankles were bound, with a rope leading to his scrotum. If he were to attempt to move his feet away from his body he would tear his own cock and balls off.
Craig was standing on my right, beaming proudly. “What do you think?”
“I think you’ve got something.”
“Thanks!”
I crossed my arms. “Where are his clothes and shoes?”
“In the trunk.”
“Good.” I was still staring at the tie-job. Craig was much more creative with ropes than I’d been.
“Is he really mine, Chris?”
“Hmm?” I tore my eyes away from Donald’s cut arms and washboard abs. He was really fit. “Yes, Craig. You need a boy to experiment on. How else will you Master what you know?”
“When can I begin?”
I shrugged. “Whenever he wakes up. But remember—the first induction is the most difficult. And he’s not liable to be cooperative when he realizes what’s happening.”
“Should I gag him?”
“Well, nobody will hear him out here, but it may help you in the long-run.”
Craig opened the trunk and retrieved a handkerchief from Donald’s suit pocket. He knelt and fashioned a gag out of it.
“Wade didn’t see you, did he?”
Craig shook his head. “I don’t think he’s home.”
“I’m going to head up to the house.”
“How long will he sleep?”
“My guess would be a few more hours. That was a pretty powerful dose you put in his drink.”
Craig tugged at the rope attaching Donald’s wrists to his chest. “He’s tied up pretty good, huh?”
I patted his shoulder. “Nice touch tying his feet to his cock.”
Craig flashed a wide smile. “He won’t be going anywhere.” He reached for my hand. “When’s my turn?”
I stooped over and kissed him. “I can take a hint.” I walked out of the barn and cut across the yard to the back door. I had missed lunch, what with the kidnapping and all, and after skipping breakfast I was ready for a snack.
I was seated at the table with a package of cookies when Wade strolled in the back door. He was grinning from ear to ear.
“Hey,” I said. “You’re in good spirits. Where’ve you been all day?”
Wade’s grin faded to a look of apprehension. “I’m sorry. Did I stay out too long?”
“No, nothing like that. Relax, Wade. It was just a question.”
“Oh.” He pulled out the chair beside me and sat. “I met a couple of guys down the street. They were playing whiffle ball so I played too. I’m a lousy hitter. I don’t catch real well either. But it was fun! They said they’d be around this weekend if I want to hang out.”
It was hard to believe this was the same boy who wouldn’t lift his eyes from the floor. “That’s terrific, Wade. You made a few friends. Do you feel like having a chat?”
He shrugged. “Okay.”
“Let’s go into the den.” I picked up the package of cookies.
The back door opened and Craig entered.
“Craig, do you mind starting dinner? Wade and I are going into the den for a talk.”
Craig raised his eyebrows. “Sure. Are you hungry, Wade?”
“Yeah!”
I laughed. Apparently a little fresh air could do wonders for a boy.
In the den Wade took a seat on the couch. He was watching me intently. “What do you want to talk about, Christopher?”
I flopped into my chair and stretched out my legs. I pulled two cookies from the bag and tossed one at Wade. He ducked.
“Wade, it’s just a cookie.”
“I-I know,” he said, looking sheepish.
“I wish you weren’t so nervous around me, Wade. Around everybody. I’d never hurt you.”
Wade bit into the cookie. He was avoiding my gaze.
“You look much healthier. You’ve put on some weight. How do you feel?”
“Fine.”
“Fine,” I repeated. “I suppose that’s progress. You’re safe here.”
Wade’s chin dropped slowly to his chest. With the ballcap on I couldn’t see his face at all.
“Wade, breathe in and out... In and out... Let the tension leave your body. You’re safe and warm and happy. You said you had a fun afternoon playing whiffle ball with your new friends. Did you have a good time?”
“Yes, Christopher.”
“They treated you well?”
“Yes, Christopher.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Breathe in and out. You’re safe here. The last time we talked you told me about how you ended up at Donald’s.”
“Donald?” Wade repeated dreamily.
“Yes, it’s okay if you don’t quite recall him. Breathe in and out. Today I want you to tell me what you were doing before you met Donald. Can you remember?”
“Yes,” he said softly. “I was working the streets...”
“What?” I yelped in surprise.
“I was working the streets,” he repeated, his voice lilting.
“How did you start doing that?”
“I met a guy.”
Ask a stupid question. “Wade, think back. After you left home, what happened?”
“I ran away,” he said. “I had no money and no food and no place to go. I met this guy who was a hustler. He taught me how to turn tricks to get money. He let me stay with him awhile.”
“So you were prostituting yourself?”
“I needed money fast.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“No.”
This just got worse and worse. “How long did you do that?”
“I don’t know, at least a few months. I hated blowing guys for money. I would go home and cry every night. Bill would tell me to toughen up. You can’t have feelings in this line of work, he’d say.”
This poor kid couldn’t catch a break. First he had to sell his body, then Donald kidnapped him and put him through a series of horrors. No wonder he was skittish whenever someone neared him.
“Wade, before you met—Bill?—what were you doing?”
“I had no place to go. I used to sleep wherever I could. But it got cold and I met this woman who took me with her to a shelter. But people would steal stuff from you while you were asleep. I lost my coat one night. And another night somebody took my sneakers. One night the shelter was full and I was outside. It was cold. I was shivering. Bill saw me and asked me what happened to my shoes. And he said ‘hey, kid, don’t you have sense to get inside?’ He was nice and bought me coffee. And he took me home and let me crash on his couch.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“Bill never touched me. He gave me a pair of shoes and he took me to work with him. He taught me how to score a john and how to blow a guy and all sorts of stuff.”
I could like Bill. Almost. He pulled a kid off the street and gave him a warm place to sleep and shoes for his feet. He was probably a nice guy, if you could overlook the fact that he had turned a sixteen-year-old kid into a male whore. I was having trouble overlooking that.
“When did you stop working the streets?”
“One night this guy in a really expensive car stopped. Bill asked if he saw anything he liked. He pointed to me. Bill told me I’d lucked out. I got in the car...” He stopped.
That must have been Donald who picked him up. And that was where Wade’s memory grew fuzzy. It was time to stop.
“Wade, breathe in and out. You’re safe here. Everything that we’ve talked about today can’t harm you anymore. Your time as a hustler, meeting Bill, being in shelters, all of that is fading away as you sit here listening to my voice. It never happened to you. You didn’t live on the streets or earn money selling your body. You were never picked up by a man in a fancy car. All of those thoughts, all of those memories are growing distant in your mind. They will fade and fuzz until they have no more form for you than a dream. And like most dreams when you wake up you will have forgotten them. All that you went through on the streets, all that you did to earn money pleasing men, is nothing but a bad dream and when I count three you’ll awaken from that dream. Do you understand?”
“Yesss, Chrissstopher.”
He seemed somehow smaller and frailer to me again. I sighed. “1...2...3.”
Wade picked his head up. He yawned and stretched his arms. “I’m sorry. Did I fall asleep?”
“It’s okay,” I said with an easy smile. “It sounded like you had some dream.”
He took off his cap and scratched his head. “I did. But I can’t really remember it...”
“Well, I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”
Craig poked his head in the doorway. “Dinner’s almost ready.”
Wade’s eyes sparkled.
To be continued in Part 58...
Christopher & Craig
Part 58: Real Men Fight.
Christopher offered to clean up from dinner since I cooked. I was really excited because I was going to get to hypnotize a guy all on my own. Chris and I talked about what I wanted to do. He had some suggestions for how to make it work easier. The one thing we both wanted was Donald to pay for what he’d done to Wade. Chris wanted him to never hurt another boy. I had some ideas on how to keep that from happening.
I walked across the backyard to the old barn and unlocked the padlock on the door. I pulled the chain off the door handles and walked inside. There was no electricity out here and it would be dark soon. I had to get going.
Donald’s eyes were wide open.
“You’re awake,” I said. “Cool. You probably figured out what happens when you try to move your feet, huh?”
Donald squinted. He would probably be cursing me out if the handkerchief wasn’t shoved in his mouth.
“It’s okay. I’m here to help you. I don’t want you to be tied like this forever.”
Donald was trying to say something, but the gag muffled everything.
I wanted to try a really fancy induction, but Chris had said that there was no way Donald would cooperate with that. So we’d do something boring tonight. “I want you to count backward with me Donald. Say the numbers in your head. Picture them counting backward. 100...99...98...”
At about 57 Donald’s eyes began to blink a lot. By 33 he was barely keeping them open. On zero he had been under for fifteen numbers.
I bent down and carefully took the gag out of his mouth. I didn’t want to accidentally jar him awake.
“Donald, you should be feeling pretty relaxed now. Even though you might be a little uncomfortable.”
His hands were rising and falling atop his chest.
“Donald, every time you breathe in and out you feel more relaxed. Just the sound of my voice makes you feel relaxed. You like the sound of my voice. You like to listen to it. You want to do what it tells you to. I’m going to ask you some questions. And you can answer them. You will answer them. And you’ll tell the truth. Understand?”
“Yes.” His voice was soft.
“Donald, Chris was very unhappy with how you treated Wade. You beat him, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To show him who was Master.”
“There are other ways to be a Master. My Master never raised a hand to me. Why did you hit Wade? He’s a nice kid.”
“Real men fight.”
What? That wasn’t what I asked. “What do you mean?”
“Real men fight. You don’t wimp out and run away. You take what you want by force.”
“So you fight with Wade?” I didn’t know what he was talking about. How did we get to this? Donald must have fighting on the brain.
“Boxing is the only true sport. Two men in hand to hand combat, each fighting to win with strength and skill.”
“Boxing?” I asked, incredulous. This wasn’t how hypnosis was supposed to go. I wondered if this ever happened to Chris. “Do you box?”
“Not anymore.”
He didn’t say anything else. I waited. When had I lost control of this?
“Donald, focus on my voice. Breathe in and out. Slowly and calmly. Listen to my voice. Answer my questions. Did you ever box?”
“Yes.”
Now we’re getting somewhere. “When?”
“As a teenager.”
“When did you start?”
“I was thirteen. I used to go to the gym five or six days a week and learn about boxing. I would train every day after school. I ran three miles every morning. I learned how to throw a punch and how to maneuver.”
Donald apparently wanted to talk about this. “Why did you stop?”
“I pursued business instead.”
“Donald, you’re obviously in good shape.” I looked over his tight little body, all tied up. “Do you still train?”
“I run every morning. I weight train three times a week.”
“When did you stop boxing?”
“I was seventeen and a half.”
“Why?”
“I was going away to college.”
“You couldn’t continue with your training at college?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I didn’t want to.” He suddenly stopped.
Yeah, right. “Donald, you have to tell me the truth. Why did you choose to stop boxing?”
“I was outclassed.”
“What do you mean?”
“I sparred with a man who knew more than I did. He was bigger, faster. He beat me bad.”
“So you stopped boxing?”
“It took me a couple weeks to heal. After that I couldn’t go back.”
“So you don’t fight any more?”
“No.”
“But real men fight?”
“Yes.”
“Are you a real man?”
“Yes.”
I just figured out where to start with Donald. I had wanted to start with tying him up, but this way was even better. “Donald, if you want to be a real man you have to fight. Real men fight. Repeat after me: Real men fight.”
“Real men fight.”
“Are you a real man?”
“Yes.”
“What do you have to do?”
“Fight.”
“Right, Donald.” Chris had told me that drilling suggestions into a subject this way was the best way to make them seem like second nature. “You’re going to return to training for boxing very soon. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“Great.” Now if only I knew more about boxing. It was okay. I could find out. Might be interesting. Buff guys in shorts—how bad could it be?
“Donald, I am going to count to three and you will wake up. And when you wake up you will not try to yell for help or get away. You will know you can’t leave here. You can’t leave here until I tell you to. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“When can you leave here?”
“When you tell me to.”
“Right. You will accept that have to stay here until then. Now, you need a trigger.” Chris had said to keep it simple. Mike’s was Queer Pizza Boy. Chris’s was White Socks. I ‘d love to know what mine was. I smiled. “Donald, when you hear me say ‘Boxer Boy’ you will return to this feeling of peace and relaxation. When you hear ‘Boxer Boy’. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“1...you’re calm and peaceful. 2...you can’t leave here ‘til I say. 3...you are awake!”
Donald shook his head. He focused his eyes on me. He looked hungover. “Who are you?” he demanded.
“Craig,” I said. “Who are you?”
He looked surprised. “Donald,” he sputtered. He moved to stretch and cried out in pain.
I winced. That had to hurt. “You shouldn’t stretch your legs.”
“Why am I tied up? Where am I? I demand you tell me who brought me here!”
“Okay, Boxer Boy.”
Donald stopped demanding. But he didn’t go under. Chris said that could happen. This was easier with Mike. He went under every time. I could do this.
“Breathe in and out, Boxer Boy.”
He seemed to be faltering, but he was fighting it.
“Boxer Boy,” I said again. “Relax, Boxer Boy. Breathe in and out, Boxer Boy.”
Donald’s eyes were closing.
“Let go, Boxer Boy. Let your mind and body relax. Stop trying to fight it, Boxer Boy.” I tried to keep my voice low and soothing like Chris did. It was hard, though. This was really exciting. Donald was losing to me!
His eyes were shut.
This time we’d do it my way.
“Relax, Donald. Remember you have to tell the truth here. You can’t lie to me. You don’t even want to. I’m going to ask you some questions about yourself. What’s your full name?”
“Donald Joseph Sullivan.” His voice was staccato.
“Age?”
“36.”
“Occupation?”
“Vice President, First National Bank.”
“Right- or left- handed?”
“Right.”
“Gay, straight, or bi?”
“Gay.”
“Do you have a—” Boyfriend? Partner? Lover? “—significant other?”
“No.”
Wade seemed pretty significant. He was living with us. “Do you have a slave?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me about him.”
“Wade is being trained to serve me.”
“Is he a good boy?”
“Yes.”
“Do you beat him?”
“Yes.”
“Are you a good boy?”
“Yes.” Then he added, “I’m a Master.”
“Are you a real man?”
“Yes.”
“What do real men do?”
“Fight.”
“Right. I’m going to count to three again and you’ll wake up. But from now on every time you heard Boxer Boy you will become even more relaxed. Your mind and body will seem to drift further and further into relaxation. You will become more open to listening to my voice and doing what it tells you to. Every time you hear Boxer Boy. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“1...2...3.”
Donald opened his eyes. He glared at me. “You can’t keep me here. You have no right! People will be looking for me.”
So much for the idea that he’d accept being here. I guess nobody could get every suggestion to work the first time. “Nobody’ll look for you here. You better get used to it. You’ll be here awhile.”
“You won’t get away with this!”
“Donald, if I were you I’d cooperate so I could get out of here that much quicker. The more you fight the longer it will take. Think about it.”
I walked out of the barn and chained the doors shut.