Christopher & Craig
Part 45: Forgive & Forget?
I spent a very restless night alone in bed. I missed Craig. I missed his smile, I missed his warmth, I missed his white socks padding around the house. I had to work things out.
Some time around 4 am I had an epiphany of sorts. It occurred to me that Craig was purely a good boy. He had no malicious intentions. Therefore his attempts at hypnotizing me had—in his way—been a way of serving me. He hadn’t meant to betray our relationship at all; rather he was emulating me because he loved me.
Granted the bondage issue bothered me. He had created a desire in me to tie him up. But we had both enjoyed the outcome. Couldn’t I overlook this indiscretion?
Perhaps I could. No relationship is perfect. Any two people have conflict, unless one of them is completely mindless (like Mitch). Leatherman would never face anything like this. But he would never know that his boy chose to serve him either.
I rolled out of bed at dawn. I was going to Craig’s apartment. There were choices to be made—decisions that would affect our future. It was possible to move forward from here. With hypnosis involved forgiving and forgetting was a passé notion.
At 7:30 am I was knocking on Craig’s door. There was no answer. I knocked again.
“I’ll be right there!” his voice called form somewhere inside the apartment.
The front door opened.
Craig stood in a pair of baggy jeans and a T-shirt, towel-drying his hair. His loafers were sopping wet.
“I was in the shower,” he said apologetically. “Christopher! I’m glad you stopped by. I’ve been emailing you.”
I grinned. He’d been wearing his shoes for everything, as instructed. Even in the shower.
“Hi, Craig. I know it’s early. But I wanted to see you.”
His face lit in a smile.
“Can I come in?”
“Of course!” He stepped aside.
I entered and sat on the sofa. He walked to the bedroom door and tossed the towel inside. His loafers squished with each step.
“Can I get you anything?”
“No, I just wanted to have a talk with you.”
“What about?”
“Why don’t you take off your shoes, Craig? They seem to be wet.”
“My shoes?”
I nodded. “Don’t you want to take them off?”
Craig smiled. He knew I had an interest in socks. He shrugged and slipped his wet socks out of the loafers.
The change came over him immediately. His body relaxed and all traces of nervousness left him. He smiled at me.
“How may I serve you, Master?”
“Have a seat on the couch, slave.”
He did.
“My shoes are tight.”
Craig went limp.
“Craig, can you hear me?”
His voice was distant. “Yes, Master.”
“Craig, how do you feel?”
“Good.”
“That’s good. I need to ask you a few questions. And as always you must answer honestly. You are unable to lie to me. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Craig, how long have you been hypnotizing me?”
“A few weeks, Master.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted you to tie me up. You always said that I should think about being tied up and get excited. I thought you would be excited too.”
“Did you ever ask me to do anything else?”
“Yes, Master.”
That wasn’t the answer I’d wanted. “What?”
“To get undressed.”
“You had me get undressed? For what purpose?”
“So I could serve your cock, Master.”
“Nothing else?”
“No, Master.”
“Why not?”
“I was afraid you would be mad, Master. But you seemed to like it when Mitch did what you told him. I thought you would like this.”
“Is that how you learned to hypnotize me? From watching Mitch?”
“Yes, Master. You always told him to polish boots. So I told you to—”
“Freeze your tongue!” I shouted.
He stopped talking.
If he said my trigger and we both ended up under there’d be no saving either of us.
“Craig, I need you to listen very carefully. We have to make a few decisions about our future. The way I see it we have several options. The first would be that you revert to Craig Matthews and go about your life and we never see each other again.” I hated that option.
“You may unfreeze your tongue to answer me, Craig. Do you want to go back to your life?”
“No, Master! Please let me serve you. I’ll be a good boy!”
“Another option would be that I remove all of your knowledge of how to hypnotize me. My only fear with that is that if I start limiting your thought patterns you’ll end up a mindless automaton like Mitch. And I wouldn’t want that. So that’s no good.”
He lay on the couch wordlessly.
“Another thing I could do is teach you more about hypnosis. You could then find a slave of your own to hypnotize.” That was how I’d started. “Would you like that?”
“Yes, Master. Would you teach me?”
“After I train you I would set you free to be somebody’s Master.”
“No, Master! I want to be your boy.”
“You do?”
“Yes! Teach me about hypnosis. Please?”
That was an option I hadn’t thought of. There was no reason why Craig couldn’t stay with me after he was trained in hypnosis. Just because my Master had freed me didn’t mean I had to do the same to Craig.
And Craig was choosing to stay with me.
“You’re certain you want to be my boy?”
“Oh, yes, Master. How may I serve you?”
“Why?”
“Master?”
“Why do you want to be my boy?”
“Because I love you, Master. I would do anything for you, Master.”
I leaned over and kissed him.
“You’re sure, Craig?”
“Yes, Master!”
“You may cum.”
His eyes rolled back in his head and he shot a load. It had been several days, and Craig was used to cumming often. He road the orgasm, then sagged against the couch.
“Go clean yourself up, boy. And get dressed. It’s time to go home. 1...2...3.”
“Yes, Master!”
Craig scrambled to his feet and raced into the bathroom.
I straightened up a bit while he was gone; went through his mail, attended to a few bills. I retrieved a plastic bag from the kitchen and placed his wet loafers in it. They’d need to dry out, but there was no telling if I’d need them again.
I had to figure out how to train Craig in hypnosis and still keep him as my boy. It seemed contradictory. Well, I would work it out later.
Craig reappeared, his hair spiked, dressed in a fresh pair of tight jeans, a T-shirt, and white socks.
“May we go home, Master?”
“Yes, Craig.”
“Will you tie me up when we get there?”
I smiled. “We’ll talk about it.”
To be continued in Part 46...
Christopher & Craig
Part 46: Mike’s Fantasy, Take Two.
That afternoon I had a full calendar of business meetings. Freelance work runs that way—feast or famine. I had to force myself to focus on the business at hand rather than Craig at home. I still hadn’t figured out how to make everything work.
That evening Mike was coming over. And I had a lot in store for him tonight. Which meant I had to keep Craig occupied and out of the way.
Well, he had asked to be tied up...
I glanced back at him on the bedroom floor—stripped, hog-tied, and gagged. He looked at me with joy in his eyes. My cock jumped. I closed the door.
Mike arrived shortly after. I let him in and he kicked off his sneakers. He looked to be under quite a strain.
“How are you, Mike?”
“Pretty good,” he replied unconvincingly. “You?”
“Queer Pizza Boy. Relax, Mike.”
Gradually his breathing slowed; his face relaxed. I led him into the den and settled him on the couch.
Once I was seated in my chair I continued. “Now, what’s wrong?”
“I had to work today.”
“Okay. And?”
“And I was making deliveries. And I got to this one house where this really big guy answered the door...”
“And?”
“And all I could think about was how I wanted to take off my clothes.”
“Really?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What happened?”
“Then I made some more deliveries. My last one was over on Elm Drive. I rang the bell and this guy in a suit answered the door. And I wanted to drop my pants. It kept going through my head—take off your pants.”
“And it bothers you?”
“Yes!”
“Why?”
“Because it’s wrong!”
“What’s wrong about it?”
“I can’t just take off my clothes in front of strange men. It’s wrong!”
“How did it make you feel?”
“Bad.”
“You felt like a bad boy?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you feel anything else?”
“Excited.”
“Excited how?”
“My dick got hard.”
“Good boy. You’re learning your lessons well. Mike, you will continue wanting to show off your body to strange men. You will want to tear off your clothes. And you will know it’s wrong. And that conflict will make you feel ashamed. And the more ashamed you feel, the more humiliated you feel. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Now, when your ‘dick got hard’ how did you feel?”
“Naughty.”
“You felt naughty? Were you a naughty boy?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What happened?”
“I got back in my car and I jerked off.”
“Why did you do that?”
“I needed to drink cum.”
“Did you drink cum, Mike?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re a good boy.”
His face relaxed into a smile.
“Each time you drink cum you realize how much more you need it to be a good boy, Mike. You will become addicted to cum. Soon it will rule your life. You will spend your days and nights in the pursuit of cum to drink. But for now you will continue needing to drink cum when you are naughty. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Have you been running?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Very good. You’re looking very fit, Mike. But you have more work to do. Every day you will run farther. Say it.”
“Every day I will run farther.”
“Queer Pizza Boy. It’s time for you to relax even more. Breathe in and out. You feel very calm. Are you comfortable?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s a good boy. Just breathe in and out. Relax. Let your body and mind just float along. You once told me about a fantasy you had of yourself on stage. Do you remember it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I want you to picture yourself on stage. See it in your mind. Are you on stage?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Stand up, Mike.”
He got to his feet.
I crossed to the stereo and switched on a dance song with a slow thudding beat.
“Can you hear the music, Mike?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re on stage. There’s music playing. This is your fantasy, Mike. You can hear the beat. You can see people watching you. You can feel the excitement building inside you.”
He was slowly nodding in time with the music.
“Dance, Mike.”
His hips began to roll, slowly at first. Then a bit faster. He was dancing too quickly for the music. He seemed to be rushing through his fantasy.
“Slow down, Mike,” I instructed. “Feel the beat. Move in time with it. It’s a slow grind, Mike.”
He was moving slower again.
“You’ll find most things are better when they’re slow grinds, Mike.” I grinned. “What happens next in your fantasy?”
“I take off my shirt,” he replied.
“Do it.”
He raced to unbutton his shirt.
“Slowly!” I commanded.
He began to very methodically pop one button at a time.
“That’s good,” I said.
He slipped the shirt down his arms and let it drop. He danced around.
“What happens next? Show me.”
Mike slowly worked his T-shirt up, displaying his abs. He slid the shirt over his head, then tossed it aside. He danced.
“Show me your fantasy, Mike.”
He slid his hands down his chest, down his stomach, to his crotch. He rubbed his crotch slowly, rhythmically. He slid his hands down his thighs. He danced around and spread his legs wide, squatting, thrusting his ass toward me. He rubbed the backs of his thighs, slowly, sensually, then stroked up over his ass. He danced around and unbuttoned his khakis. He slowly unzipped them.
The khakis worked their way down his legs as he danced. They fell to his ankles and he stepped out of them. He grinded, in his black boxer-briefs and white socks. He ran his hands down his thighs; up along the bulge in his boxer-briefs.
He ran a finger under the waistband of the boxers. Slowly, teasingly, he slid them down until his bulging red G-string was displayed. He danced and thrust, then slid the briefs back into place. He danced around, sliding the briefs up and down, taunting, teasing, flashing his red G-string.
He slid the briefs off his legs. When they hit the floor he danced in the red G-string, thrusting his body and caressing himself with his hands. He was glistening with sweat.
When the music ended I spoke.
“That was quite a show, Mike. Can you hear the applause of the audience? They liked seeing your body. You like their applause. It makes you feel good.”
I liked seeing his body too, like this. That little strip-tease of his may have started out a bit rough, but by then end, he had tantalized me more than enough. I was ready to cum in my pants.
But I’d wait until later with Craig.
“You liked showing your body off. It excited and aroused you.”
Mike’s right hand traveled down to his cock. He stroked himself.
“How do you feel now, Mike?”
“Naughty.”
I chuckled. “You may cum, Mike.”
He moaned. His body shook as his cock spewed cum in the red G-string.
Mike wiped his cock with his fingers and licked them greedily.
“Mike, each time you practice your fantasy you will get better. You will become more sensual, more sexual. You will be slower and more teasing. You will enjoy yourself more. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good boy. Get dressed and sit on the couch.”
He reassembled himself and sat, waiting.
“Mike, you’ll come back here tomorrow night. All of the instructions you’ve received will be followed. You like to follow my instructions. You have no desire to resist them. You couldn’t if you wanted to. You’re on your way to being the stripper you fantasize about, Mike. And once you start, you won’t be able to stop. Your cock is hard just thinking about it. You naughty boy.” I smirked. “1...2...3.”
Mike shifted on the couch. If he noticed his hard cock or his wet G-string he wasn’t acknowledging them in my presence.
“Tomorrow night?” he asked.
“I’ll look forward to it.” I followed him to the door. What Master wouldn’t look forward to a nightly private strip show?
He put on his sneakers and left.
I’d lay odds he jerked off as soon as he got to his car. He’d need a drink.