Christopher & Craig
Part 33: Control.
Dogcraig was asleep on his side in the corner when I got upstairs, so I left him alone. It had been a long and stimulating night anyway, and I was ready for a good night’s sleep. Sunday morning I fixed him a bowl of food and let him out for a few hours. He lay on the back patio sunning himself for most of the day. He was going to need a bath and a shave eventually. His blonde hair was growing out, too. I wondered idly if Leatherman realized the upkeep that went into having a slave.
Of course the benefits far outweighed any drawbacks. I had a boy who had completely surrendered to me, wanting only my love and happiness in return. Tomorrow night would be all about Craig, I decided. I had been neglecting him in favor of Mitch and Mike recently.
But it couldn’t be helped. Mitch was so close to completion. I was extremely curious to see what would happen at seven o’clock.
And even more curious about what would happen when I put the next phase of my plan for Mitch into action.
All in good time. Meanwhile I also had Mike to contend with. He was so fresh, so new. There were so many new avenues I could explore with him. I hadn’t even decided if I wanted him to be gay yet. I’m actually a firm believer that sexuality is determined by genetics. But there are times when genetics can be overridden by medical science. It happens all over the world every day.
And it’s been happening in my den quite a bit recently. After dinner I closed Dogcraig in the upstairs bedroom again. I stood in the doorway watching him sit and pant. He had two days’ growth of beard and his hair was plastered to his forehead from sweating this afternoon. But he was tanned and adorable.
“Soon, Craig. I promise.”
He barked.
The doorbell rang. I pulled the door shut and hastened downstairs to answer the door.
Mitch stood on the doorstep. He looked like he’d had a rough day. His hair was a mess, his eyes bloodshot. My eyes followed down his body. He wore a wifebeater and tights.
Tights!
With white socks and boots.
No wonder he looked upset.
“Come in, Mitch.”
He stepped inside and kicked off his boots mechanically. He stared at his feet in wonder. The action had been involuntary. And he noticed. I wondered if he had been reacting to his own behavior like that all day.
“How was your day?”
“My day?” he repeated. “My day! My day sucked! Look at me. I haven’t slept. I haven’t eaten. Every time I closed my eyes last night all I could see was naked guys. Everything I tried to eat all I could think of was sucking dicks! And then—then this morning I got up to go to work and look at what I put on!”
“Mitch, calm down. Let’s have a seat in the den.” I led the way down the hall.
“Calm down?” he thundered, following me. “How can I calm down? I went to work looking like a total fag! Than I almost got in a fight with some asshole who called me a pansy-ass.”
I stifled the urge to laugh. Pansy-ass did describe him in this state. His arms were flying about, his voice was shrill, and he was standing here in tights. Even I hadn’t seen that coming.
We sat in our usual places.
“Mitch, did you talk to your boss?”
“Did I? He called me in to his office. So I showed him your letter. He told me to take an indefinite leave of absence! I told him you’d said a month or so, but he signed the paperwork: Indefinite. I’m out of a job!”
Inside I was applauding this turn of events. Nobody would be looking for Mitch Driver after today. But I said in my most reassuring manner, “I’m certain that he’ll put you back on duty as soon as your treatment is completed.”
“No, he won’t!” he insisted. “I may as well be fired!”
“Mitch, lower your voice.”
“I can’t! I used to be a baritone. Now listen to me! I have no job, no friends, and you want to put me away!”
“I don’t want to put you away. I just want you to be taken care of. That doesn’t sound so bad, does it?”
He jumped to his feet, arms flailing. “Taken care of? Is that what you call it? You said I needed to go to a rest home so I can be treated for multiple personalities!”
“Mitch, you’re overwrought. Try to control yourself.”
“BUT I CAN’T!”
“That’s right,” I said.
He stopped dead. The room fell silent. It was a welcome relief after his hissy fit.
“What did you say?” His voice was soft.
“I said you’re right. You can’t control yourself.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked, alarmed. “You mean because of the personality stuff?”
I shook my head.
“Then why can’t I control myself?” His tone was meant to sound demanding, but it squeaked more like fear.
My tone, however, remained level and low. “I control you now.”
It took time for the full impact of my words to sink in for Mitch. I sat calmly in my chair, watching him try to fathom my meaning. I smiled at him serenely.
His eyes were wide. “You’re out of your mind! Nobody controls me!”
“I can make you do or say anything.”
“Nobody can do that! You can’t control other people. It’s ridiculous! Everybody has their own mind and free will!”
“You don’t.”
“You’re crazy. I’m getting out of here.”
I looked him directly in the eyes. “No, you’re not.”
“I can leave whenever I want. You’re not the only doctor who can help me!”
“I am. Nobody else can help you.” I got to my feet.
I knew he wanted to leave, but he stood before me. “You can’t control people no matter what you say. You’re just trying to scare me or something. But it won’t work!”
“I don’t want to scare you, Mitch. I told you I’d help you. That’s why you came here, isn’t it?”
“Is this how you help me? Telling me you can control me? What kind of a doctor are you?”
“I’m not a doctor, Mitch. You believed that because you wanted to.”
He gasped.
“Polish my boots, bootboy.”
His eyes instantaneously dropped to my feet.
“What are you talking about?” His voice had a panicked quality.
“Get down and polish my boots. Now!”
He dropped to his knees. “No! I won’t! You can’t control me. I don’t have to...”
Even as he protested he dropped to his stomach.
“You’ll do it now. You can’t disobey me, boy.”
“No, I won’t!” he shouted, even as he crawled toward my feet.
“Polish my boots!”
He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “No. I won’t do it!” His tongue darted out and licked the toe of my right boot.
“I won’t!” he insisted. But he licked it again. And again. He couldn’t stop himself.
“You belong to me now, Mitch. I tell you what to do. I tell you how to act. I even tell you what to think. You have no mind of your own anymore. You have no free will.”
He was making whimpering noises as he spit-shined the black leather boots.
“You came here for help tonight because I told you to. But the help I’ll give you isn’t what you had in mind. And now nobody will ever look for you. You’ve seen to that. Your boss gave you off indefinitely.”
He was trembling as he bathed my boots with his tongue.
“You were so worried about being a ‘fag’ you forgot you’re also a bootboy.”
“Why?” he slurped. “Why... me...?”
“Why you? At first it was because you fell into my lap. You went to Leatherman’s club looking for Craig. That’s how we met. And you were such an obnoxious, homophobic jerk. But you had such a hot body. You’ll make a great slave for Leatherman.”
“Slave?” he slurped in horror between mouthfuls of boot.
“Slave,” I repeated. “And I believe it’s time to wipe out the rest of your memory of being a free man.”
“No!” he screamed, trying to pull his face away from my boots. “You can’t! Please. I’m... begging you... I’ll give you... anything... You want money...?”
I laughed. “Money? You’re worth more than money to me, Mitch. You’ve given me something to do the past few weeks. You’ve certainly provided entertainment. And I know you’re worth a lot more than money to your future Master.”
“Master?” he echoed in terror.
“Every slave has a Master. You know that.”
“Please... I’ll do anything...”
“I know you will. Anything I tell you to.”
“No! I mean... Let me... stop...”
“Don’t worry, Mitch. You’ll like being a—what was it you said? Oh, yes.” I grinned, watching him lie at my feet worshipping my boots. “A mindless, cock-sucking, spandex-wearing bootboy.”
His agonized scream was the last sound Detective Mitch Driver ever made.
“Polish your boots,” I said.
He collapsed on the floor.
To be continued in Part 34...
Christopher & Craig
Part 34: Sex With Men.
A short time later I had succeeded in burying Mitch Devlin’s true nature and replacing his personality with a willing bootboy. He would be a slave from this point forward. I hadn’t decimated his personality; his character and traits were still intact. He would simply never be able to access them again without my help and consent.
Mitch was now seated on the couch, in his trance state, ready for either more reprogramming or to awaken. It was still a few minutes before nine and Mike wouldn’t be here for about half an hour. But I had done enough for tonight.
“Mitch, I have a special treat in store for you. But before you can have that treat you must go into the bathroom and take a nice, long, hot shower. When I’m ready for you I will come and get you.”
“Yes, sir,” he said.
“When I count to three this time, Mitch, all of the instructions I’ve given you will become a permanent part of you. You will obey your Master’s every command. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir, Master.”
“1...2...3.”
Mitch squinted against the light until his eyes adjusted. He had been under much deeper than usual tonight and seemed to take a moment to reorient himself. Soon he rose and walked out of the room.
I straightened up the den a bit and then headed into the kitchen and poured a glass of wine. I felt like toasting to Mitch’s new life as a bootboy. This was a good day. It would be an even better night.
The doorbell rang. I let Mike in.
“How are you, Christopher?” he asked, shyly.
“I’m great, Mike. I’m glad you could make it.”
He kicked off his sneakers and followed me into the den. After he’d settled on the couch I began.
“Queer Pizza Boy.”
His body immediately relaxed. His shoulders lowered, his legs stretched out in front of him. He had been tense when he arrived. I’d have to address that again.
“Mike, how are you feeling tonight?”
“Good.”
“That’s good. Breathe in and out... Relaxing... Your entire body is at peace. You like coming here, Mike. You should feel relaxed and happy when you’re here. All your worries should fade away when you come to my house. Isn’t that right, Mike?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Tell me, last night when you got home, what did you do?”
“I took off my clothes.”
“You did? Why?”
“I don’t know.” He sounded genuinely confused.
“Sure you do. You took them off because you like to take off your clothes. You like to be in your G-string and socks. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes.”
“You will continue undressing whenever you’re home. Because you like to be undressed. Say it and know that it’s true.”
“I like to be undressed.”
“Mike, have you ever thought about men having sex?”
His face twisted a bit. “No.”
“Are you sure? Men have sex all the time.”
“With women,” he said.
“That’s true,” I said. I would need to proceed with care. “But men also have sex with men. Does the idea of men having sex bother you?”
“No.”
“Good. Because it’s okay for men to have sex. You know that.”
I sat back. Maybe he didn’t need to be gay. Maybe he could be straight and still provide a service for gay men everywhere. The idea intrigued me.
“Mike, you told me about your fantasy of dancing on stage and people putting money in your underwear. Do you remember that?”
“Yes.”
“Do you remember who was putting money in your underwear?”
“Women,” he said.
“I want you to picture the scene. See it all in your mind. You’re on a stage. You take off your shirt and pants. You’re dancing around. Can you see it?”
“Yes.” He was smiling now.
“Okay, there are some women there. And they put money in your underwear as you dance. Do you see that?”
“Yes.”
“Breathe in and out. Mike, look around. There are men here too. And they are smiling. They’re watching you dance. And they also put money in your underwear. Do you see?”
His smile faded a bit. “Yes.”
“That makes you feel very good, Mike. Everybody likes to see you dance. Not just women, but men, too. You are making them all very happy. And you like to make people happy.”
He began to smile again.
“It’s okay to dance for men too. In fact, you like it a lot. You like to dance in front of men. Say it.”
“I like to dance in front of men.”
“That’s good. You know that when you say it it becomes true for you. Are you happy now?”
“Yes.”
“I’m glad. Mike, I want you to picture something else now. You’re no longer dancing on stage. I want you to think back to when you had sex with your girlfriend. Think of a night when it was really good. Can you picture it in your mind?”
He was nodding slowly. “Yes.”
“Picture everything about it. Where were you? What were you doing right before? How did you feel? What did you say? Can you see it?”
“Yes.”
“That’s good. Mike, in a few minutes it will be that night again. You will be alone with your girlfriend and you will have sex all over again just as you remember it.”
I crossed to my desk and retrieved a condom from the top drawer. I pressed it into his hand. “She’ll be right here, Mike. You’d better get undressed and ready for her.”
He stood and began unbuttoning his shirt.
I would’ve liked to have watched, but I knew that in the future he’d be performing private strip shows for me. I went to the bathroom to get Mitch. He was still in the shower.
“Mitch, dry off and come to the den.”
“Yes, sir.” He turned off the water.
Mike was down to his socks when I returned. His cock stood pointing at his chin and he had the condom on.
Mitch entered the room, still wrapped in a towel.
“Mitch, the naked man you see over there is here to show you the other way a bootboy can serve his master. You will do what he says and you will enjoy it.”
“Yes, sir!”
I walked over to Mike. “Mike, when you open your eyes you will believe the person before you is your girlfriend. You will have sex with her just as you remembered it. Open your eyes, Mike.”
His eyes popped open. He saw his girlfriend across the room.
He moved toward Mitch. They embraced. Mike was kissing Mitch. Mitch pressed his body to Mike’s.
The towel dropped from Mitch’s waist. They groped each other passionately.
Soon they were on the floor, rolling around.
Mike found the only open hole on Mitch and began penetration.
Mitch emitted a gasp then panted as Mike forced his way inside.
Mike was ripping open Mitch’s virgin ass. He was wild and passionate, and lost in his memory he didn’t have to take it slow and easy.
Mitch groaned and grunted as Mike worked against him. In and out, in and out.
Mitch’s own cock stood at attention.
In a way I wished the Detective part of Mitch could see what he was doing now. Well, there was always a year from now.
Mike soon came, and Mitch rode along the thrusts. I decided it wasn’t fair for only Mike to enjoy himself. After all, this was Mitch’s first time.
“Cum, Mitch,” I said.
He shot all over his own chest.
Mike pulled out of him and held Mitch in his arms. They lie together, legs entwined, basking in the afterglow of Mike’s memory.
I wondered what he would think if he realized that rather than being with his girlfriend, he’d just given Mitch his first experience with anal sex.
I whispered in Mitch’s ear to go clean himself up in the shower and he left the room.
Mike lay on the floor, sweating and smiling.
“Mike, did you enjoy that?”
“Yes.”
“Good. You can do it again soon. Would you like that?”
“Yes.”
“Stand up and dress.”
He pulled on the G-string, then his boxers and khakis. Then he pulled his T-shirt over his head and buttoned his shirt. When he was fully dressed I continued.
“Mike, tonight when you go home you will dream about taking your clothes off in front of people. It will excite you. You like the idea of showing off your body. The idea of taking off your clothes in front of people will begin to creep into your thoughts more and more. You will want to be undressed. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good. You will return here tomorrow after work. What time will that be?”
“Six.”
“Good. All of my instructions will be followed. You want to obey them. You want to do what I tell you. You have no desire to resist me. I’ll count to three and you will awaken. 1...2...3.”
I sighed. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mike.”
He nodded. “Yes.”
I walked him to the door. He put on his sneakers and left.
I collected Mitch from the bathroom and settled him on the couch.
“Mitch, how do you feel?”
“Okay.”
“Just okay?”
“My ass is sore.”
“No, it isn’t. That isn’t pain you feel, Mitch.”
He looked puzzled.
“There’s a thin line between pleasure and pain, Mitch. And what you’re feeling is pleasure. Your master just let you serve him in another way. You will desire the feel of your Master’s cock inside you. You will crave it. You have never felt such pleasure. You enjoyed it immensely. Didn’t you?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Good boy. What you felt you want to feel again soon. And each time you will enjoy it more and feel it more intensely. You will look forward to having your Master’s cock inside you, whether it is in your mouth or in your ass. That’s what you’re for, Mitch.”
He was beaming.
“Okay, Mitch, get dressed.”
He donned his wifebeater and tights.
“Go home. Think about all the ways you can serve your Master. Tomorrow you will return here as usual. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir, Master!”
He walked to the front door, pulled on his boots, and left.