Christopher, Craig & Co.
Part 90: Tangent.
After staying up entirely too late poring over multiple pages of Masteredslave.com, I began to understand a few things about the site. The actual web design was very plain, consisting mostly of white text on a black background. The claims on the different pages seemed fanciful and unrealistic. The sub categories listed in the menu were rather broad archetypes: jock training, slave training, pup training, leather and rubber.
To the average person the site would seem silly, frivolous, and based on role-playing. To the curious, the claims would be intriguing. To the suggestible, this site could insidiously infiltrate the mind and begin reprogramming. To me, that’s what made it dangerous.
And that led to Mike Taylor and Austin St. James and who knew how many others.
Austin was a likeable, friendly guy who had gotten in way over his head. He had wanted to be thinner and more athletic. Now he was the victim of forced workouts and a near-starvation diet. Last night over ice cream it became apparent Austin is a foodie who is unable to enjoy food.
It also became apparent that Wade was crushing on Austin. And I suspected the feelings were mutual based on the lingering glances and surreptitious smiles I witnessed.
I was sitting in my classroom mulling this over when the students trickled in. I had decided only moments ago to take today’s lesson off on a tangent. Once the class had settled I hopped up on a desk and said:
“I want to take a little break from what we’ve been studying and talk about something else.”
Several students grinned. They knew as well as I did that I preferred to discuss actual relevant topics to some of the dry readings in the textbook.
“I want to talk about the internet. A recent study shows that the average American spends more than 68 hours a month on the internet. The average user spends roughly five hours a month on Facebook. Does that seem excessive? Would you call that an addiction?”
Scott and Wade exchanged glances.
Chas, a lanky blonde who always sat at the back of the room stretched his arms out and said, “I don’t buy this whole internet addiction thing. Our generation is online. What’s the big deal?”
Lexi sucked her teeth.
“Lexi, did you want to address that?”
She shrugged, tossing her red hair. “I have friends who are online all the time. I mean we’ll be out and they’ll be on their phones checking their profiles and stuff every five minutes.”
“It does seem to have become a part of life.”
Scott spoke up. “Yes, but internet access is a necessary evil. It’s never been so easy to get information.”
“I agree. Though sometimes there’s too much information.”
Several students chuckled.
I paced a little. “Show of hands: how many of you frequent the same sites regularly? Daily? Several times a day?”
Nearly every hand in the room stayed up.
“Are you compelled to go back?”
“Compelled’s not the right word, Boldt,” Julian piped up.
“Julian, I know I’ve asked you to remember the Mr. What would be the right word?”
“I don’t know. To me compel means you’re being forced. I’m not forced to go online. I want to.”
I nodded. “Interesting. Now, let me set up a hypothetical situation. Say a site was created that through the use of text and graphics and subliminal suggestions encouraged return visits. Say this site was used to persuade people to think a certain way. Could that happen?”
“Mr. Boldt, all websites use propaganda to a degree. Check any one of the news sites and you can perceive a bias.” Tim held up his hands as if this were common sense.
“True, but could we effectively control people through the use of a website?”
“I don’t think so. People are too smart…”
Jeanette cut Tim off. “What people are you talking about?”
There was general laughter.
Wade turned toward Tim. “Why not? People are creatures of habit and if you keep reading something it could affect you. I mean, I think it’s possible.”
Jeanette nodded noncommittally. “Anything’s possible. But it doesn’t seem very likely.”
“Well, what about sites that market products? Could you make the case that they are actually fostering a desire for their product?”
“Now it sounds like you’re talking about some kind of mind control mumbo jumbo on the public,” Julian scoffed. “Nobody’s been able to prove subliminal messages work.”
“I’ll grant you that. The studies aren’t generally widespread enough. But who says it would have to be subliminal?”
Tim rolled his eyes. “Nobody would fall for something too obvious.”
“Maybe not. Have you ever sat down to check your email and looked up an hour and a half later?”
More than half the class was nodding.
“What draws you in? How do you lose track of time?”
Stone, who I was pretty sure was often in an altered state, flashed a sly smile. “Dude, losing track of time isn’t hard.”
A glance at the clock showed me it was time to wrap up. “Ultimately I don’t have the answers to a lot of these questions. But maybe the questions are really the fascinating part of this discussion. We’ll pick up with the article next class.”
As the rest of the students packed up and left Scott and Wade hung back.
Scott eyed me suspiciously. “What was that about?”
“I needed some perspective. This site could be farther-reaching than any of us anticipated.”
“But you can help, right, Chris?” Wade looked at me with his big brown eyes.
How could I disappoint that face? “I’m sure I can figure out a way to help our friends. But I can’t even begin to imagine how we help the boys out there who are sitting in their rooms logged in with their webcams running right now.”
To be continued in Part 91…
Christopher, Craig & Co.
Part 91: Scott’s Fantasy.
Scott swept into the den with a bunch of roses in his hand.
Despite my best intentions, I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I could count on one hand the number of times I’d gotten flowers. And it was never with good news.
“What’s up?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
“I’ve been neglecting you. I have the night completely off. I’m sending my calls to voicemail. And I’m taking my guy out for dinner. How’s Belladonna’s sound?”
I would have been embarrassed if Scott had realized what I had been thinking. He handed me the roses, then leaned in and kissed me.
“Dinner at Belladonna’s sounds amazing.” I sniffed the flowers. “And maybe it could be followed by drinking, dancing and etcetera?”
“Play your cards right and we can explore any number of your fantasies...”
Scott pulled me closer and I had to juggle the roses to keep them from being crushed. “I have many fantasies,” he said huskily.
“I’m counting on it.”
Scott and I got all dressed up. There were times when I looked at him and his beauty took my breath away. Tonight was one of those nights. He pulled out all the stops, and I was a bit tipsy as we left the restaurant and headed to Chicanery, a new bar/club that had recently opened. I had been curious to see what the place was like, and neither of us had the desire to go to Leatherman’s.
Chicanery was pretty upscale. The DJs were good and after a couple of cocktails Scott and I hit the dance floor. Scott has natural rhythm. And when he held me in his arms, thrusting and grinding against me, I was ready to tear his clothes off with my teeth.
When we got back to the house I called, “Wade!” to no reply, then began unbuttoning Scott’s shirt.
He pressed his mouth to mine and backed me against the wall. Our tongues dueled as his hands slid all over my chest and back.
I came up for air. “So,” I panted. “Tell me one of your fantasies.”
I could see in Scott’s dark eyes that he was weighing his options.
“Just choose one. We have plenty of time to do them all.”
He breathed out a nervous laugh. “I just don’t want to pick one that will disappoint.”
“Scott, no matter what you pick right now, something hot and sweaty and sexy is going to follow.”
He laughed again. “I’ve had this fantasy. Well, I think about it sometimes when I’m...”
“I get it.”
“Anyway, my hands are handcuffed behind my back and I’m worshipping my lover.”
I suspected there was more to it, but Scott looked at me expectantly. I wasn’t sure what kind of encouragement I could give. Staring into the eyes of the man I love, I knew.
“Where are your handcuffs, boy?” I asked throatily.
Scott’s eyes widened.
“Get them, and the keys. And meet me in the bedroom.”
I turned and walked upstairs. I was certain there was more to Scott’s fantasy than he had told me. But no matter. I was about to have my sexy FBI agent/student bartender on his knees, restrained and sucking my cock. Just the idea of it had me leaking.
I pulled the comforter down and sat on the edge of the bed.
Scott appeared in the doorway a moment later.
“Come in and lock the door, boy.”
Again, when I called Scott ‘boy’, his eyes seemed to widen and the corners of his mouth turned up.
“Take off your shirt, boy.”
Scott dutifully stripped off his shirt and stood bare-chested. I walked to him and traced my finger over the lines of his muscles. I teased his nipples lightly. He flinched, but didn’t pull away.
I locked eyes with him. “Ready to be a good boy?”
He nodded eagerly.
“How do you reply, boy?”
I kissed him. “Good boy.”
I took the handcuffs and the keys from him. I placed the keys on the dresser. I walked up behind him and took his right wrist, slapping the cuff on it. I pulled his left arm behind his back and secured it.
I circled back around him and now teased both of his nipples.
He screwed up his face, but didn’t pull away.
“That’s a good boy,” I said. “Kick off your shoes.”
He did his best to balance and step out of his shoes, using the toe of one foot to pop his heel from the other shoe. When he was standing in his socks I unbuckled his belt and opened his pants, allowing them to slide down his muscular thighs. I allowed my hand to lightly brush against the bulge in his boxer briefs.
I could hear his breath catch.
I helped him step out of the pants, then hooked my hand behind his head and pulled downward.
Scott dropped to his knees wordlessly. I steered his face toward my crotch and pressed his nose into my pants. He nestled his face into me.
“Such a good boy,” I whispered, playing with his hair.
I unzipped my pants and allowed them to pool at my ankles, then shoved my underwear down my thighs. My hard cock bobbed in the cool bedroom air.
Scott looked up at me and grinned.
I wound my fingers in his hair and tugged his mouth toward my cock. “Do a good job, boy, and you might get to cum tonight, too.”
“Might?” he yelped.
“No talking, boy.” I tugged on his hair.
Scott’s mouth is amazing to kiss. And even more amazing when he’s using it on my cock. In moments I was moaning softly.
I reached down and tweaked his nipple. He jerked back and met my gaze. “Did I tell you you could stop, boy?”
“No, Sir.” He took my cock inside his mouth and found a slow, steady rhythm.
I played with his hair while he sucked, every now and then my fingers finding their way to his nipples. From time to time he cut his eyes up to look at me and I’d smile and call him a good boy. This would serve to make him grin around my hard cock.
It didn’t take long before I whispered raggedly, “I’m going to shoot, boy.”
Scott just kept sucking as I came in his mouth.
He grinned up at me.
I stroked his hair. “You’re a good boy. Get on your feet.”
Scott stood, his own erection dripping with precum. I covered his mouth with mine and reached down to stroke his cock.
I had barely touched him when he came, shooting between us onto both of our chests and bellies. I continued kissing him, stroking lightly as his cock jumped beneath my fingers.
When I pulled back Scott’s ears were red and he looked sheepish.
“Sorry about that,” he said.
“Nothing to be sorry for. It was hot.” I retrieved the keys and freed his hands.
He drew me into his arms. “Maybe next time you can be the boy.”
I gave a facial shrug. “Maybe. But I think you’re going to tell me more of your fantasies.”