The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Advantage System: Part 4

WARNING This contains graphic descriptions of sexual intercourse and sadomasochistic activities between adult males. If this offends you, is not appropriate for viewing in your location, or you are not of legal age, do not read it. Any resemblance of characters in this story to the living is purely coincidental.

© 2007, TopLegal. Permission is granted for distribution via Usenet and the Web provided that the following two conditions are met: there is no cost to access this story, e.g. AdultCheck, pay site, etc., and the story is posted in full without modifications.

Advantage System Basics

Quick reminder for those joining the story of how Levy’s advantage system works. This applies to the relationship between Levy and Y.J. in the story.

  • No masturbation or sex outside the relationship/framework. Both parties can mutually agree to some acts outside the framework, but as a whole it’s off limits.
  • During any one sexual interaction, one person will get the T(op) role and will be guaranteed sexual satisfaction, the other person will get the B(ottom) role. B may or may not get an orgasm, but his job is to ensure that T is completely sexually satisfied in that encounter.
  • T & B roles must change around because the two people in the relationship can never be more than 1 “point” ahead of the other. (Sort of like Deuce in Tennis, so if Tom and Bob are the people in the relationship and Tom is the T to Bob in encounter one, then it is Advantage Bob. Here’s the “catch”, Tom cannot be T to Bob again until either it is Advantage Tom or “love”.)

Accountant

“Levy,” I shouted out the door to my motorcycle-gear clad lover, “my accountant Chris and his boyfriend Marcus are going to be visiting LA next weekend.”

Levy turned back to the house to face me, “And?”

“Chris was hoping they could stay with us to save hotel bills.”

“And?”

“Well, we haven’t really had company together since we moved in together and I wanted to check if you minded?”

“Sounds nice.” With that, Levy dashed to the carriage house garage, and pulled out his bike and was minutes later zooming out of the driveway.

I dialed Chris at his office, “Levy’s cool with it.”

“Nice,” he said. “We need to review your 2006 taxes again. One thing, Marcus has been struggling with maintaining his weight under 140 lbs for modeling.”

Knowing what I did of Chris and Marcus’ relationship, this would mean that Marcus was being thrashed severely. The two of them has been together since Marcus’ nineteenth birthday—three years now. Chris was my age, around thirty-five and their relationship involved a lot of S&M. Particularly, Chris administering severe punishments to Chris for a wide variety of transgressions.

The latest transgression to make the list was a weight restriction. Marcus had landed a lucrative modeling contract in 2006 that specified that he weigh in every Monday no heavier than 145 lbs. Marcus in turn had agreed privately with Chris to receive foot whippings if he crossed over 140.

“Not a problem,” I said without much of a pause. “Quick question, you done with the whole San Diego thing yet? I miss having you living in LA.”

Chris chuckled, “settled up the estate issues last month, so Marcus and I plan to house hunt this trip.”

“Neighbors?”

“Beverly Hills looks affordable given the inheritance.”

“Not enough gays,” I quipped.

“We’ll see Jacob,” he responded and our call ended quickly

Jamie’s Cuckolding

Jamie’s arrival for his next appointment brought with it the chance to continue his self-paid-for-cuckolding. When he arrived, he stripped naked for me without having to be prompted.

“Sir,” he said, with his arms clasped behind his back, his chest pushed out. “I did every single thing you asked me to do,” he continued. “My wife was sexually pleasured by me, fully clothed, twice a day every day since we last me.”

“Well done,” I responded. “You ready for a release?”

“Please sir,” he pleaded, “this chastity belt is painful.”

“Let’s have you lay down in the recliner and get you ready for the rest of your life.”

“Sir,” he responded and quickly laid down in the zero-gravity recliner.

“Jamie in order for your relationship with your wife to work, we need to make sure that you are ready to go back to life without a chastity belt. Today, I am going to train you in your new relationship with your cock. Next visit if you are in compliance, we will get your wife involved.”

“Sir, that sounds good, will I still get my reward tonight for following instructions?”

“Of course,” I smiled. Then I induced a hypnotic state in him.

Today’s hypnosis would involve training him to get nauseous at the thought of touching his own cock sexually. Further, he would vomit if he actual touched his own cock. Lastly, he would henceforth only be able to experience orgasm in one and only one way: flat on his back, arms laced behind his head, cock slowly stroked by another person.

It took me two hours to lay down the suggestions and reinforce them repeatedly. Then came the practical section. His CB-6000 was removed and I asked him to think about masturbating.

Within seconds he was nauseous. I led him to the bathroom of the play area and ordered him to try and stroke his cock. He vomited into the toilet. Twice.

Success.

“I think you have a gist Jamie, but I think writing some lines before you get your reward would be a good idea, what do you think?”

Still face against the bowl of the toilet, I could watch his mind struggle. He was hypnotically cued to enjoy obeying me. On the other hand, he wanted sexual release after two weeks without orgasm. It took him about a minute to speak up, “sir, I think I would enjoy doing what you want me to do.”

“Good boy,” I said. I led him over to a desk and wooden chair. A ball point pen lay adjacent to three sheets of paper. The first had neatly typed at the top: “Thinking about touching my cock sexually makes me nauseous.” Below were twenty-five numbered lines to copy the sentence down.

The second sheet read: “I vomit when I touch my cock and become violently ill.” As with the first sheet, twenty-five numbered lines followed.

The third, and final sheet read: “I can only achieve orgasm from another person stroking my cock slowly because touching my own cock makes me nauseous and violently ill.” In addition to the twenty-five numbered lines, three more blank sheets with lines twenty-six to one hundred followed.

“Get writing,” I said and turned to leave him alone with the lines.

It took him over an hour to finish the lines. When I finally took him over to the table to lay down for his reward he was sobbing softly.

I had him lace his hands behind his head. His cock was rock hard and poking out. “Jamie, before I reward you, I need to know one very important thing.” I paused and waited for him to ask me back.

“What sir?”

“Do you understand how everything I am doing with you is to help you save your marriage?”

He did not pause, “Sir, yes, sir, thank you sir.”

I began to stroke his cock extremely slowly. I made sure it took an hour before he was able to achieve an orgasm. It was a slow, agonizing hour of ever so gentle stroking of his cock followed by stopping before he could climax. When I was satisfied that he had been kept on edge for long enough, I continued stroking him to climax.

I quickly cleaned up his cum covered groin with a hot towel and then helped him stand up. His muscles were sore from the intensive strain of being held on edge.

“Sir, thank you sir for rewarding me sir,” he managed and then hugged me.

“You are welcome boy.” I hugged him back.

“So I can go home without the chastity belt?”

“Right, pleasure your wife twice a day and hands off your cock or your butt and backside will regret it.”

“Sir, yes sir,” he said as I led him out and let him get dressed.

Feet Whipped

When I made it back inside the house finally, Levy was home with his motorcycle gear still on. His hard cock was bulging in his crotch.

“Nice night with your client?”

“Quite, we made great progress on saving his marriage.”

“Let’s work on maintaining ours,” Levy said grinning, “my advantage right?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” I responded enthusiastically.

“So how about for my turn as top you act out Marcus’ bottom role to me playing Chris?”

“Ok,” I said, “Marcus is kept naked inside the house at all times. He is working as a model regularly now so Chris confines himself to whipping Marcus’ feet.”

“For any particular reason?”

“Marcus is a total pain bottom,” I responded, “he loves being in agony. Unlike me though, it genuinely hurts him.”

“So Chris just whips him for the heck of it?”

“Most nights Chris gets a ‘gentle’ whipping. There are also punishment whippings.”

“And the difference?”

“When Chris is punishing Marcus the intensity of the strokes is harder and blood sometimes gets drawn.”

“Do they also fuck?”

“That’s the one thing Chris misses right now, he loves fucking his bottom boy’s red-hot, spanked ass. Sore feet aren’t quite the same.”

“Oral?”

“Absolutely.”

“And will Marcus service you?”

“Yes.”

“And do you let Chris spank you?”

“I have some times.”

“Let’s see how much pain I can inflict on your feet without you orgasming,” Levy said abruptly. “I trust since you don’t quite feel pain as such there is no need to tie you down?”

“No need to tie me down.”

Levy grabbed my belt and had me strip naked. I kneeled over a love seat leaving my feet dangling free for a whipping. “Don’t you dare cum Jay,” he said as he began striking my feet violently with the belt.

I stayed in place as he violently thrashed me. Of course due to the bullet in my head, my sense of pain was more or less gone. Almost all sensations map to pleasure for me and I found the intensity of the thrashing quite arousing.

Levy did too and after getting my feet nice and red began striping my ass with the belt. I had to fight the urge to orgasm and pleaded with Levy several times to give the strapping a break not due to pain, but due to the intense pleasure.

He did not relent. Only after I was certain was going to lose control, did the thrashing stop. I quickly felt him thrust into my reddened, hot ass and fuck me with his hard cock. When he orgasmed inside me, he announced, “love.”

I then begged him to get a cane and thrash my ass with it until I orgasmed. As I shot onto the leather love seat, I announced, “advantage Levy.” Then I collapsed into the chair.

He fucked me again right then and there, two more times. “Advantage Jacob,” he said before helping me up to the bedroom.

“I can see why Chris would miss being able to thrash Marcus’ ass. Fucking you with your ass sore and red is so hot.”

“I noticed you enjoyed it.”

We kissed and drifted off to sleep.

It was noon on Saturday before Chris and Marcus arrived. They were hardly inside the door before Marcus removed all of his clothing. We embraced and finally I introduced Levy.

Levy asked, “so how was the ride up?”

“Great,” volunteered Marcus, “we made great time.”

“Though you earned a foot whipping for not packing a suit,” Chris said.

Marcus bowed his head slightly. “Where do you want to punish me?”

“Let’s do it in front of Levy, he should see how a naughty boy is punished.”

Marcus nodded and walked into the living room. He went to the love seat where Levy and I had played last night and kneeled, his feet exposed for a whipping.

“Levy,” Chris began, “I need you to realize that Marcus will cry and scream in quite real and severe pain during his punishment. I hope that will not bother you?”

“Not at all,” Levy said grinning.

Chris took off his belt from around his jeans and began to thrash Marcus’ feet relentlessly. Marcus feet already were faintly red, but in seconds they were bright red. Blow after blow was violently landed as Marcus howled in pain.

Levy and I hugged each other and watched approvingly. Chris continued the assault on Marcus’ feet for a total of around one hundred blows. Marcus’ feet were bruised and crimson and he was sobbing uncontrollably. Though to his credit he had not attempted to stand up, move his feet away from the belt, or take any other action that could be construed by his owner as trying to avoid the punishment. That would only have resulted in Marcus being tied to a cross and flogged with a whip.

I had seen Chris whip Marcus early in their relationship for moving a hand to block a punishment spanking. The result was not pretty for Marcus. It was also, according to Chris, the last time that Marcus ever tried to interfere with a punishment.

“Stand up,” Chris ordered.

Marcus, still crying scrambled to stand on his very sore feet. You could see him wince as his feet touched the carpeted floor. Another wince followed as his body weight caused him to put pressure down.

“Over to the corner on the wood floor boy, some corner time standing on those sore feet will remind you to follow my orders better.”

Ok, I can admit it, I got hard watching Marcus’ slow walk to the corner. You could tell with each step he was trying to figure out how to avoid putting any weight on any part of his feet. He also was having no success. Every part of his foot had been thoroughly whipped. He reached the corner and clasped his hands behind his back and pushed his nose right up against the corner. He was crying non-stop still and you could see his body shaking slightly. He was bouncing if you will every so slightly to try not to put his weight on his sore feet.

“Stand still,” Chris barked.

Marcus froze and cried out in pain.

“Move and we repeat another hundred licks to your feet boy.”

Marcus wailed, his sobbing increased, but he stayed frozen on the spot like a statue.

“Levy,” Chris said turning his attention to my partner, “as you can see Marcus and I have a very clear relationship: he’s my slave and he gets severely punished for even mild disobedience.”

“Jay filled me in a bit.” Levy said. “I’m quite impressed you’re your control with the belt at that level of intensity.”

“Let’s just say Marcus’ new modeling job as given me plenty of opportunities to really practice control over a violent foot whipping.” Marcus whimpered loudly from the corner. He was still crying.

“How long will you make him stand in the corner?”

“Until he stops crying.”

That took nearly an hour. When Marcus had stopped crying for several minutes, Chris called him over to his lap. Marcus’ walk to Chris’ lap nearly caused him to start crying again, but he bit his lip to fight back more tears. He sat down on Chris’ lap like a little boy who had been punished by his dad. Chris used some tissues to dry Marcus’ face and let him blow his snotty nose. They embraced and Marcus thanked Chris for punishing him and apologized profusely for forgetting the suit.

It was almost hotter to watch the corner time and post spanking, thanks than the foot whipping.

Marcus’ Enema and Bedtime Ritual

At bedtime, Chris invited us to watch Marcus’ bedtime ritual. We decided to use the master bathroom for its larger space. A clean white towel was laid on the floor. Marcus was then brought over to stand on it. He was still walking quite tenderly on his feet which were now black-and-blue.

Chris then made him wait five minutes before starting to run the tap water warm. Taking out an old-style thermometer, he lubed it up and inserted it into Marcus’ waiting ass. Marcus whimpered and blushed.

“Living in San Diego has spoiled you,” Chris announced, “you used to get your bedtime ritual in front of company more often when we lived up here.”

Marcus’ face turned an even deeper shade of red.

I gave Marcus credit for not complaining about the public humiliation in front of Levy and me. Any complaint would have just resulted in a brutal punishment. So he took his ritual in public suffering the humiliation.

Chris filled a huge black enema bag with the warm tap water. “Three liter bag,” Chris said to us as he filled it. Once full, he hung it from our shower rod.

The thermometer came out and Chris took his time reading the temperature. “36.5 degrees Celsius,” he announced to Marcus, “quite normal.” Chris then took his time sterilizing the thermometer and putting it away in its case.

Marcus looked stoically forward trying to avoid awareness of his predicament.

“Levy, Jay, how about standing in front of Marcus while I administer the enema?”

Marcus’ blush returned.

We happily stood in front and hopped onto the vanity to watch. We periodically kissed each other as well. Why not enjoy the show after all?

The enema tube went in quickly and seconds later, Marcus’ gut was being filled with the warm tap water.

“He gets an enema nightly,” Chris explained. “He absolutely hates it. Loves pain, but hates an enema. We settled on this as his nightly ritual to ensure that he goes to bed every night knowing his place.”

It took almost five minutes for every drop of water to flow from the enema bag into Marcus’ bowels and colon. Chris made no efforts to speed the process, allowing gravity to do his work.

After the bag drained, Chris removed the nozzle carefully, making sure not to drip on the white towel.

“Explain to our hosts what happens now boy.”

Marcus was straining to hold the enema in his gut and slowly managed, “I have to hold it for fifteen minutes without even a drop leaking or I get another enema and another until I hold it.”

Chris said, “Right boy.” Then to us he continued, “Marcus actually devised this entire ritual.” Chris set a timer for fifteen minutes.

Chris stroked Marcus’ cock during the time causing the gorgeous bottom boy to moan and wince and groan. What torment. When the timer buzzed Marcus moved quicker than a bolt of lightening to the toilet to empty his gut. Chris inspected the white towel.

“Ok, we are done tonight boy,” he announced as he picked the towel of the ground. It took several minutes for Marcus to expel the entire enema from his bowels.

When the enema was fully expelled, Marcus stood up, embraced Chris and kissed him. “Thank you sir for the enema.”

Levy suggested, “mind if we all snuggle together in one bed?”

Chris said, “sure, Marcus enjoys being fucked and I don’t fuck him very often right now since I only really like fucking a boy with a red, sore ass.”

“I’m good with it.”

Levy seemed to be waiting for Marcus’ opinion. Chris sensed that and said, “Marcus doesn’t get a vote.”

We headed out of the master bathroom, into the bedroom and piled into the king-sized bed.

House Hunting

The next morning after breakfast, Chris got Marcus dressed in what I was convinced was the skimpiest clothing I had ever seen. It was clearly “street legal,” but barely so. The top was a see through mesh muscle-shirt. Marcus’ smooth chest and body was on display. The bottoms seemed to be short-shorts. When they left to house hunt, Levy asked me to explain more about their relationship.

I described how when Marcus was eighteen he found Chris’ profile on Gear Fetish. The two had traded messages for weeks before talking by phone. At the time Marcus was going to Columbia University in New York City and also modeling periodically to help defray his school tuition. It was Marcus’ freshman year and he was struggling with his grades.

So began nightly calls. Bad grades meant Marcus had to punish himself and send photos with “Chris’ Slave” written on his chest in marker to Chris nightly. Other pictures of his red ass were required as well. Chris would then post the photos in his Gear Fetish profile. Marcus’ grades improved. However, Marcus’ interest in school was waning.

Chris knew that he got off sexually from spanking guys. Marcus was discovering he liked being in pain. It was like peanut butter and chocolate.

Over the phone calls Marcus agreed to certain conditions that would apply if he went to live with Chris. Chris in turn agreed to care for Marcus financially. It is important to note that they still had never met in person.

By Marcus’ winter break of his freshman year there were over fifty days worth of “slave” pictures of him posted to the Internet. His nineteenth birthday was in February and he decided to drop out of school.

The morning of January 1, 2004 was when Marcus flew out to meet Chris for the first time. At the airport, Chris had to change out of jeans into skimpier clothes before the car ride back to Chris’ house. Marcus had to strip naked inside the door of Chris’ house. No spankings occurred for the first month.

Chris simply had Marcus become used to being a naked, submissive slave boy. Any offenses that would have resulted in punishment were noted and the discipline was a non-CP timeout and an explanation of what the CP would have been.

The enema ritual occurred for the first time that night and every night since. Marcus had mentioned in a chat to Chris that his mother used to punish him that way and it brought back memories of being a bad boy. Chris picked up on it and made Marcus write him a long email describing his childhood enema punishments in detail. Now Marcus suffers those punishments on a nightly basis. Every element, the white towel, the thermometer, the amount of the enema, the time to hold the enema, is an exact recreation of the way Marcus was punished as a child.

He hates it.

He also loves Chris tremendously and loves Chris for the courage to inflict it on him every night without fail.

I noticed at this point in telling the story that Levy was hard and stroking his cock. “Hey,” I said, “it’s my advantage boy!”

Levy stopped and blushed, “sorry.”

“I think just for that I should stop telling the story now unless you are willing to get hand-spanked to orgasm for my turn?”

Levy’s face contorted in frustration. Unlike me, he could feel pain. Also, unlike Marcus he was definitely not a “pain pig.” Further, even though I was offering to use only my hand, I had a heavy spanking hand.

“That’s unfair,” he said.

“Fuck unfair, that’s my offer. Or I can stop telling the story and I can just fuck your brains out taking my advantage.”

He came over my lap and I began spanking his smooth butt firmly with one hand. With the other, I began to stroke his cock.

I made sure to squeeze his balls several times to extend the spanking before finally letting him orgasm into my hand. “Eat your cum boy,” I ordered. Once he complied, I announced, “Love.”

“Ok, finish the story,” he said. “And you spank hard.”

I stuck my tongue out at him. We kissed. I continued explaining Marcus’ enslavement.

So again, for the first month or so there was no corporal punishment, or spanking whatsoever. There was also no sex, just a houseboy/slave relationship.

Marcus’ birthday is Valentine’s Day, February 14th. So as January closed, Chris had Marcus withdraw permanently from school. Non-punishment spankings, and sex then began on January 31, 2004.

Marcus loved them. He’s a total pain pig. The more pain you put him in, the closer he comes to orgasm. To a point. Chris quickly learned that point and that established the set point for punishment spankings.

From January 31, 2004 to February 14, 2004, Marcus and Chris had sex three or four times a day. Each time Chris would spank, whip, flog, etc., Marcus until his butt was red and then fuck him. Chris would frequently orgasm from the spanking. If not that, then Chris’ bareback fucking would bring on Marcus’ orgasm.

On Marcus’ nineteenth birthday, Chris asked Marcus to “marry him.” Chris is not allowed to “divorce” Marcus for any reason; however, Marcus is actually free to leave at any time with permanent palimony. So Marcus stays out of true love.

Marcus got the tattoo that day. It’s on his inner thigh: “This cock and body are the property of Christopher L. Oxxxxx”.

It took another day before the first punishment came. That was also the only time Marcus tried to stop a spanking. Marcus had spilled some coffee carelessly in Chris’ home office. Chris did not hesitate to flip Marcus over his lap and began thrashing him with a hair brush.

At some point, Marcus moved his hand in the way. Big mistake.

Chris grabbed Marcus by the ear and dragged him to the garage. There he tied him to the rafters and began thrashing him with a bullwhip. Fifty lashes later and with Marcus’ back bleeding, he stopped.

“If you ever try to prevent me from hitting your body at any time, we will repeat this but worse. Understood?”

Marcus nodded, broken.

Chris cleaned up Marcus’ back and took him back to the office.

“What has to happen now Marcus?”

“I need to be punished for spilling the coffee.”

“Right boy.”

The hair brushing then occurred.

Levy interrupted. “How often does Chris punish Marcus?”

“Two, three times a week originally, now once a month or so.”

“And this modeling gig?”

“2007 contract for Abercrombie and Fitch, he is making three-hundred thousand to be their ‘guy’ for 2007.”

“How many shoots?”

“Anywhere, anytime, basically.”

It was a few hours later when Chris and Marcus returned. Marcus stripped naked in the entry hall. “We bought a place in West Hollywood,” Chris shouted.

“Nice, where?”

Marcus laughed. Chris swatted his behind playfully.

“It’s the house right in your backyard, literally,” Chris explained. I looked out the back window. “Yep, that one.”

“Cool,” Levy exclaimed. “We can knock down the fence.”

Chris laughed, “that way Marcus can wander over naked for butt sex?”

We all laughed. Well, actually Marcus more blushed and hid his face than laughed.