Comments will be gladly received by white_collar@hotmal.com
Note: Any resemblance to real people is strictly coincidental. No real people are depicted in this piece of fiction. This story contains explicit male to male sex, domination and bondage. If you don’t enjoy reading this sort of material or are under the age of 21, DO NOT CONTINUE READING. If you regard this type of material as depraved then flee from here and don’t look back! And be sure that you practice safer sex. Don’t become another statistic in the rising HIV/STD rates. Don’t be barebacking: it’s your LIFE you’re playing with. This story is STRICTLY fantasy and I DO NOT espouse or endorse unprotected anal or oral sex!
Be careful and be alive—White Collar
Executive Stress Relief—Chapter 33
I awoke to find Patrick clinging to me like a child. There were dried tears on his face and at first I thought they were from his bout of crying when he couldn’t fuck me. Then I remembered that I’d dried those tears before we fell asleep. Obviously, he’d been crying again. My throat clutched as I realized how much this was hurting him. Why had I ever brought it up? Why couldn’t I have just shut up and left it alone? Why had I called Sam and asked him up? How could I have been so stupid and selfish? My own eyes began to well as I reproached myself for hurting my love. I bent to kiss the salty trails of his tears and lick them away. As I was bathing his face with my tongue, I saw his eyes flutter open and he smiled.
“Hi baby,” he croaked, his eyes crinkling.
But I detected a sadness in them and my insides turned to water.
“Oh Patrick,” I cried, gathering him close to my chest. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could do it all over. I wish I’d never said anything to you. I’m so sorry I’ve hurt you,” I blubbered.
“It’s OK Mark. Don’t cry. We’ll work it out,” he said, trying to sound soothing but not doing terribly well.
I really didn’t believe him. I knew that he’d had another jag while I slept and I suspected it was because he felt inadequate. How must that’ve felt for him? He was a CEO, a father, a husband. Probably for the first time in his life, he thought he was inadequate. He’d been impotent. That must’ve killed him. I remembered how I’d felt the first time I tried to top a guy and fell flat. It took me weeks to get over it. And I didn’t even love the guy: it was just a “training exercise” I was doing under my Master’s guidance. He said afterwards that he wasn’t surprised-that a guy who took on the role of top, as opposed to a “natural” top, sometimes took time to get things to work they way they had to. So he’d brought me along and I’d learned. But it took time. Why did I have to beg Patrick last night when I knew that he was only trying to make me happy and probably wasn’t ready yet? God, I was stupid! I held him close, overcome with remorse that I’d hurt him this way. As I cried, clinging to his chest I could feel his tears on my head. We lay there, crying together, lost in the hurt we’d caused one another. Finally, the tears subsided and we dried our eyes and blew our noses. Then we choked out laughter, both of us thinking what a funny picture we must make, crying like a couple of lost children.
“C’mon,” I said, stroking his head and face. “Let’s get up. You need to get home.”
“You’re right,” Patrick responded. “I better get a move on or I’ll really be in a fix.”
We washed our faces and I saw him to the door.
“Have a good day baby,” I said, smiling into his blue eyes. “I wish I could be with you but I won’t begrudge you time with your family.”
We kissed and he went to the elevator. When the doors closed, I closed my front door and sagged against it. Taking a deep breath, I pushed off of the door and went to get dressed. I could get my rounds in and forget about Patrick for a little while at least.
I saw my patients in the hospital and did some consults with some of my colleagues on some tricky cases of theirs. I grabbed a bite in the lousy cafeteria and sat with a long-time friend.
“What’s the problem Mark?” Jannie asked me. “Something’s bothering you isn’t it?”
“Why do you ask?” I deflected, trying to sound nonchalant.
“Well we’ve been talking about government health policies for five minutes and you keep repeating the same point over and over. It’s not like you. I’ve never known you to get stuck in a holding pattern.”
“Oh, it’s nothing!” I sighed.
“Try again Mark. You’re bothered heavy-duty.”
I’d always thought Jannie should have done psychiatry. But then, I suppose I wasn’t being very subtle either.
“It’s a long story,” I said, “but suffice it to say that I’m having problems in my love life.”
“Can I ask who he is? Anyone I know?”
“Actually, you might know of him but I doubt that you’d know him personally.”
“Oh ho. A big shot, huh? How big?” she asked, her eyes glittering.
“Well, not that big. He’s an entrepreneur who’s been written up in some trade magazines but it’s not like he’s Donald Trump.”
“Oh,” she responded, slightly disappointed. “OK. So what’s the problem? Or dare I ask?”
I’d known Jannie since we were in med school so we went way back and she’d been there for me when my Master became ill and when he died. In fact we were both doing our ER residency when I met him. She was a good friend. But I realized I also needed to protect Patrick.
“Well...” I hesitated. “The first thing is... he’s married.”
“Oh God,” she exclaimed, exasperated. “Mark, I thought you knew better than to get involved with a married man.”
“I couldn’t help myself. He’s perfect...” I began, defensively.
“But married,” she cut in.
“Yes, alright. He’s married,” I said irritably. “But I love him.”
Jannie peered at me a few moments, her eyebrows raised and questioning.
“Does he love you?”
“Yes,” I said wistfully. “Yes, he does.”
“Does his wife know?”
“No, I don’t think so. I think we’ve done pretty well at keeping it under wraps.”
“How long has it been?” she asked pointedly.
“Oh, about a month or so,” I said, trying to remember when it’d started.
“Mark,” Jannie said sharply. “Mark, look at me!”
I shifted from my unfocused gaze to look into her gentle face.
“Mark. A month is nothing. How long do you think you can hide this? How long do you think you can both stand it? How long before one of you slips or deliberately outs him to his wife? Have you thought about it?”
“No,” I said slowly. “I guess we haven’t really thought about it. I mean he’s thought some about it. He realizes he’s going to have to come out to her. He’s thought about how he’d do it.”
“And what if she goes ballistic and tells him to never see you again? Then what will you do.”
I think the pain her question caused me must’ve shown on my face. I know I felt like someone had punched me in the gut.
“I’m sorry Mark,” Jannie said, reaching for my shaking hand. “I didn’t mean to be so hard. But you have to’ve thought about it.”
“I can’t stand to think about it,” I croaked. “It would kill me I think. He means as much to me as Jesse did. He’s my life.”
The tears spilled down my cheeks and I hastily wiped them away with my sleeve. Jannie just sat there, saying nothing. Then...
“You’ve got it bad don’t you Mark?” she asked rhetorically but quietly and gently.
“Yeah, I do. What can I do Jannie? I love him.” I cried softly.
“I can’t tell you what to do Mark. You and he are going to have to work this one out. Something tells me there’s no textbook for this. And you have to remember that there’s another person involved in all this and she’s certainly going to have some thoughts.”
“Yeah, you’re right there. Oh god! What was I thinking? I just lost my head over him.”
“My professional opinion is that love isn’t often centered in the brain and what you were thinking has little to do with what is or isn’t going on in your head,” she chuckled.
I laughed. “You think I’m thinking with my... penis? You think that’s all I care about?”
“Well, I guess I wouldn’t say that, exactly, at least not that crudely. But I’m not at all convinced that logical considerations came first.”
“You’re right, of course. But I will say this: he’s cute as hell!”
Jannie laughed. “I’m sure he is. You’ve always had good taste in men.”
“I guess my fantasy is him and me together forever. But I don’t really see that happening. He’s much too devoted to his family to leave them. I guess that’s one of the things I love about him.”
“I think that’s one of the reasons so many gay men are attracted to married men: they represent stability and steadfastness.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I suppose that’s why I have a thing for men wearing wedding rings.”
“Well,” Jannie sighed, “I can’t help you with this one. All I can say is ‘Be careful’ and don’t...” She paused.
“Don’t? Don’t what?” I asked her.
“I guess I was going to say don’t get too involved. But that’s stupid isn’t it? You already are.”
She reached over and laid her hand on mine.
“Take care of yourself Mark. I’m really afraid you’re going to get your heart broken this time. It was different with Jess.”
“How so?”
“Well, you did have each other. You were devoted to each other and when he got sick, you had the comfort of caring for him and he had the comfort of your care. But it’s going to be ten times more difficult with this guy. When Jess died, you lost him but he was gone. You knew you’d never get him back. You may find that you lose this guy, knowing that he’s still around. That could eat away at you. Try to take care of yourself. Please!”
I smiled at her and stood.
“Thanks Jannie,” I said. “Thanks for listening. I guess we didn’t get any big questions answered but it’s always good to know I can talk to you.”
“Glad to Mark,” she said.
We took our trays to the conveyor belt and deposited them. At the exit from the cafeteria, I kissed Jannie on the cheek.
“Thanks kid,” I said.
“Anytime Marky,” she smiled and gave me a peck. “Be good!”
And she was gone.
Executive Stress Relief—Chapter 34
I finished my rounds and went back to the office to try and get a head start on the paperwork. As I sat there, my mobile rang.
“Mark Andrews,” I said without checking the caller’s number.
“Mark! Oh Mark, I’m so glad I got you. This is awful! What are we going to do?”
“Patrick!” I exclaimed, “slow down. What’s happened? What’s wrong?”
Patrick heaved a ragged sigh.
“It’s Sam,” he said tensely.
“What? What do you mean? What about Sam?”
“I got home with breakfast, just like we’d said. Sarah and the kids were here already. The kids were all excited about what they’d done at Grandma’s and we had a nice breakfast. Sarah seemed glad to be home and to let me take the kids off her hands for a while. I was glad to have them back. We talked and laughed; it was great!”
I felt a twinge of envy, wishing that I could have such an experience and, even more, that I could share it with Patrick. There was just an inkling of jealousy that poked into my heart.
“Sounds fine,” I said. “So then what?”
“Well, Sarah lay down to take a nap. She’d gotten the kids up at 5:00 to get in the car for the drive home and then she’d had to drive the three hours to get here. She was tired. Actually the kids were too, so I put them in bed for a nap, telling them we’d go to the park in the afternoon so that they could go riding. Then I sat down to check my e-mail, and I saw it...”
“What? What is it?”
“There was a message from Sam. Obviously, he knows who I am.”
“What did it say?” I demanded, sounding a little impatient I’m sure. I was beginning to have a sense of foreboding.
“He said that... that...” Patrick’s voice caught. “He says that he’s going to tell my wife everything if I don’t leave you. He says that he’ll ruin me and he’ll ruin you. He’s demanding that I stop seeing you and told me that I shouldn’t even think about telling you this. What’re we going to do Mark?” he cried.
I was silent for a few moments, my mind thrashing, trying to work out what was going on. Finally, I spoke.
“Well, I’m glad, at least, that you didn’t follow his orders not to tell me.”
“But what’re we going to do Mark? I can’t stop seeing you! I’d rather die! How’re we going to stop this?” His voice was rising.
“I don’t know Patrick; I need to think; just calm down. I have to try to understand what Sam is looking for and why.”
“Mark, you need to tell me what’s between you. Was he your lover? Do you, did you care for him?”
“We were just fuck-buddies Patrick...”
“Just what? What did you say?”
“I’m sorry; I forget this stuff is foreign to you. We were fuck-buddies. We just played; we never had a relationship: at least I didn’t think so. But maybe Sam thought something else. My Master introduced me to Sam after we’d been together for about six months. I guess Master wanted to get me well-trained and bound to him before he shared me. Then, when he was sure I was his boy, he invited Sam in for some sessions. Sam’s a top and he and Master had shared bottoms before. So Sam would come up and together, they would work me over: you know, bondage, discipline, fucking and sucking. I did it because Master wanted it and I did whatever he asked. That’s the way it is. But I never played with Sam except when Master was there. Then, when Master died and I was feeling in need of a good working over, I’d call Sam and ask him up. But we didn’t do it very often and after a couple of years, I stopped calling him. Of course, by that time, I was topping guys myself and once in a while, I’d invite Sam up to share a boy. But we never had a relationship. I swear Patrick-I don’t know where he’s coming from.”
“Maybe all these years he’s wanted you for himself. Maybe when you asked him to top you, he saw his chance to claim you. Maybe I interrupted that and he’s looking for a way to get me out of the picture.”
“Hmmm. You could be right. There was one time when I asked him to come up and do me. He came in the door already hot. I could see his dick was hard and pressing against his pants. We went into the room and he ordered me to strip and present myself to him. Well it put me back into the days when my Master was still alive and I really got off on it. I gladly stripped for him and submitted to his demands. He chained me up and shaved me. I felt the same thrill of humiliation I’d felt the first time I was shaved. I cried but my dick was leaking all over the place. Then he put clamps on my nipples and made a porcupine with clothes pins on my cock and balls. He gagged me and blindfolded me. It was so hot, I was flying. He gave me poppers and then shoved his wet dick up my ass and fucked me till I saw stars. It felt so good to be filled again. I could feel every inch as he spread me and slid it in. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was; how much I needed a good fucking. But he refused to let me come. He kept backing off just as I was getting close, then he’d start again. My balls ached and I was whining in frustration. He managed to work himself up to the point where he was ready to come then he reached around and grabbed my cock. I though he was going to jack me but instead, he squeezed my cock head hard and pulled me back from the edge while he came in my ass. I was crying and whimpering with hunger. But he didn’t care. He pulled out of me and made me smell his cum mixed with my ass mucus on his hand. Then he laughed and left with me hanging there. He came back a couple of hours later and let me down. But before he did, he put me in a chastity belt so that I couldn’t get to my cock. He told me that if I were his, he’d keep me in the device all the time because I got far too much enjoyment. As it was, he told me that, if I was a good boy, he’d release me in a couple of days. The device was made in such a way that I could piss but that was it. And I had to sit down to do it! So I went two more days with my cock firm all the time. I couldn’t get stiff because the device prevented it, but I was still aroused the whole time.”
“God, how did you stand it Mark? Couldn’t you get out of it?”
“Yes, I suppose I could have if I’d really wanted to. But it felt so good to be controlled again. After a couple of days, he came up and asked me if I’d been a good boy. When I said I had, he made me kneel and suck him off. Then he unlocked the belt and let me out and jacked me off. It felt so good to have him touching me and wanking me, twisting my nipples. When I came, he caught my cum in his hand and smeared some of it in my asshole. The rest, he made me lick it off his fingers along with the little bit of my own crap that had gotten on his fingers when he shoved them in my cunt.
“But what does that have to do with his blackmailing me?”
“I’m not sure. I guess maybe he thinks there’s a chance for him to make me his boy. But obviously, that’s not going to happen as long as you’re in my life. So maybe he’s trying to chase you out of town.”
We were both silent for a while.
“I guess I’m going to have to confront him,” I ventured.
“No! You can’t!” Patrick exclaimed desperately. “Then he’ll know I told you: he’ll tell Sarah. You can’t do that.
“Well what would you suggest Patrick,” I said sharply, my nerves now as on edge as his were.
“I don’t know,” he said very quietly. “Maybe we should just break it off.”
“No!” I shouted. “I can’t! I can’t stop seeing you. I love you too much. I can’t!”
Patrick started to cry.
“Mark, please! What can we do? I can’t have him contacting Sarah and telling her everything. He could have something put in the papers and I’d be ruined. It could destroy my business and my entire life! We have no choice!”
“Patrick, Patrick. Sshhh. It’s OK,” I coaxed, trying to get control over my own feelings. “We’ll figure it out. Just please don’t tell me you want to break it off.”
“I don’t want to Mark. You have to know I love you. But what else can we do?”
“We’ll figure something out, I said, with a confidence I didn’t feel. “Let’s sleep on it. Maybe something will come to one of us. Did he give you a timetable?”
“No... no, he didn’t.”
“OK. Well your family’s just gotten home so you’re going to be spending some time with them anyway, so it’s not like we don’t have breathing room. Let’s just think about it and hope something presents itself.”
“OK. Thanks Mark. I’m sorry this is happening. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Patrick, this whole thing is my fault. I should never have started it. If I get hurt, I probably had it coming.”
“No!” he said, “I won’t listen to that. You may have started it but I’ve come along for the ride and been there with you. So it’s not all your fault. I don’t want to see you hurt: you don’t deserve that.”
I felt a wave of warmth and pain pass through me. Talk about ambivalence! I’d just been told by the man I loved that he loved me but we might have to end it. My throat was tighter than a twisted rope.
“Oop! I hear Sarah. I’ll talk to you later. I love you Mark,” Patrick said quietly.
“I love you to baby. Talk to you later.” And we hung up.
Executive Stress Relief—Chapter 35
I opened my desk and found that magazine with Patrick’s picture on the cover. This was my “first sighting” of him. Looking at this cover was the first time he’d made me hard. I’d actually jacked off looking at this picture and fantasizing about him. Then he’d shown up in my office, looking for help-for stress reduction. God! He’d gotten so much more than he’d planned on. And I suppose now he had more stress than he’d ever conceived of. But god, how I loved him! My eyes started to burn again and I slammed the magazine down on my desk.
“Stop it!” I yelled at myself. “What good are you if you sit around weeping over this like a baby. Pull yourself together! We just have to work out a plan.”
I was furious with myself for being so stupid and for finding myself in this position-having my lover being black-mailed by a low-life like Sam. I’d thought he was OK; that I could trust him. Obviously, I’d been wrong. Or maybe I’d just underestimated his possessiveness. Who knows? But it sure wasn’t fair that Patrick should be hurt. And his family certainly didn’t deserve it either. I had to do something to prevent that: I had to stop Sam.
I tucked the magazine into my bag, turned out the lights and went home. If I couldn’t have Patrick in bed with me, at least I could have his picture.
When I got back to my building, I noticed that Sam was on duty. I had a momentary urge to confront him and started to move toward the door. Then I caught myself and changed my mind. I didn’t think he’d spotted me and so I ducked down the garage entrance and took the elevator up from the lower level. I just wasn’t ready to have it out with him at that point. I needed to figure out what I was going to say to him. And besides, Patrick had a say in these matters and I didn’t want to blindside him, especially since there was no telling what Sam would do. As a doorman, Sam didn’t have a lot to lose so I supposed it wasn’t a good idea to call his bluff; at least not until we were prepared for the fallout.
I noticed that there were some voice mails on my machine but I just wasn’t up to taking care of whatever problems they would be presenting. I made myself some dinner and sat down on the couch with my “Patrick” magazine. There was a movie on and not much else, but it wasn’t an unbearable attempt at entertainment so I decided to watch it.
I was awakened by a tapping on my door. I glanced at the clock and saw it was close to 11:00. I must have dozed off during the movie, which was just ending. A tad groggy and thinking it might be Patrick, I turned of the TV and went to the door.
When I’d undone the locks and opened the door, Sam pushed his way in.
“Well boy, I see that you’ve been sleeping instead of doing what I told you!” he said roughly.
“Wha? What?” I said, bewildered. “What are you talking about? What are you doing here Sam?”
He backhanded me across the face, sending me sprawling, mostly because I wasn’t expecting it.
“I left you a message,” he snarled. “I want to finish the scene that your lover boy so rudely interrupted. Don’t you play your messages? No wonder there’s no good medical help in this town. Too many doctors sitting on their fat asses watching TV.”
“Sam,” I said, getting up on my hands and knees. “I’m not into this tonight. You need to go.”
“You’re not into it?” he asked caustically. “You think I care if you’re not into it? I’m the one calling the shots and I need to have a boy hanging off my dick. And you’re the best candidate. Like I said, your sweet boyfriend interrupted what we’d started and I want to finish it! You thought you could avoid me didn’t you little boy? Thought you’d sneak in through the garage. Don’t you know that I know just about everything about who comes and goes in this building? You think I didn’t notice the elevator went to the garage when no car had pulled in? You think I didn’t see that it went to your floor? You know, for a doctor, you’re not a very bright little man!”
“Sam, please!” I begged starting to get up. My ears were burning with embarrassment at being so stupid and so easily found out.
He landed a foot in my belly, knocking the wind out of me and I crashed to the floor once again.
“You’ll call me Sir, boy. That’s if I let you call me anything at all! You’re my boy now and you’ll do what you’re told. Now get your clothes off!”
I tried to get to my knees, holding a hand up in a gesture of supplication but Sam didn’t wait, and jumped on me, rolling me over onto my back and ripping my clothes off. I was so stunned and ashamed that I didn’t try to stop him. Maybe I had a sub-conscious sense that I had this coming to me after all I’d done to mess up Patrick’s life. Maybe I thought it would placate Sam and that he’d leave Patrick alone. He grabbed the front of my shirt and lifted my upper body off the floor, his face the picture of violent lust. Something in me snapped as I looked into his greedy eyes. The power of his hunger overwhelmed me; his physicality took me over and me legs lost all their strength, which flowed into my cock. I did nothing to stop him because I desperately wanted and needed to be taken by a man like Sam; I needed him in me, filling my hole. So I allowed him to strip me and did nothing. He ripped my shirt open and savagely grabbed my nipples, shaking them like a dog tearing at a piece of meat. He pulled my pants open and then off. Then he ripped my shorts into rags and pulled my socks off. When I was naked, he rolled me onto my belly again, forced me to crawl on my hands and knees and using his belt on my ass, drove me into my training room. He herded me to the free-hanging shackles and strung me up, my feet shackled to the floor and my arms spread-eagled over my head.
He removed his own clothes, throwing them on the floor without care. The sight of his powerful body, strong body with well-defined but not overly developed muscles sent shivers through my body. He had brown hair that coated the hard, rounded mounds of his pecs and traveling slightly upwards across the planes of his flexing chest. He had a medium-sized ring through his left tit and a Celtic style tattoo covering his left shoulder with black, green and red flames. His eyes were brown and his pupils wide as he looked at me hanging before him, ready to be used. His brown and gray hair was quite short and the receding hairline with the peninsula that reached forward onto his forehead from the main body of hair gave him the look of a mature, masculine male. And his cock! It was beginning to fill and, semi-erect, was at least nine inches and growing. It was a good two inches in diameter, springing darkly from a forest of fur. The pink head sat on the shaft like a pointed helmet with flared edges. An aura of dark power surrounded him like a cape. If I hadn’t been strung up, I’d have fallen to my knees.
“Now my boy,” he said, menacingly, stepping up to me and pulling on my cock and balls, “I think it’s time to get you ready. You’re no top! You’re just a boy who needs to be shown how small he is. First I need to put you in your place.”
He slapped my face before going to the cupboards and drawers, placed a number of items on a wheeled tray and came back. Before I could make out what all he’d gotten, he blindfolded me with one of my leather blindfolds.
“Open up!” he ordered, pulling my jaws open.
Then he spread my jaws and crammed a latex dildo into my mouth to gag me and pulled a head harness over my head, buckling it under my chin and in back of my skull. I grunted around the gag. It was so large that my jaws were uncomfortably stretched.
“Oh, you like this don’t you boy? I knew you were a fraud; acting like a big top man!” he said, grasping my stiff cock. “Bottom boys always the same. Show ‘em who’s boss and they get hard and horny.” Then he slapped my balls hard, making me squeal in pain and surprise.
“Shut up!” he said sharply, twisting my tits. “You’re going to learn to take it again. I know you could take it once but you’ve gotten out of practice; gotten too uppity, so I need to get you trained again! Take you down again!” And he gave my crying nipples another vicious twist and a yank.
I groaned and threw my head back. But I could also feel the pre-cum pumping out of my piss-slit. My body had not forgotten!
Then I heard the unmistakable snap and buzz of electric clippers. I shook my head vigorously and yelled unintelligibly around the gag stuffing my mouth. Please, I thought, not that. Please don’t do that to me! But he paid me no mind. He took my jaw in his hands and held my head still.
“Now don’t go making such a fuss boy,” he said, with a smirk in his voice. “Boys will be boys and you’re going to be a boy again. I can’t have you looking like a man now, can I? It’s not right for a boy to look like a man.”
Again I shook my head and protested. He chuckled darkly and roughly patted my face.
“Yes, I thought you’d agree. Now don’t move. I wouldn’t want to cut your pretty little boy’s body.”
I felt the clippers start on my legs and felt the hair rolling down. When he’d trimmed my legs, he lifted my cock with two fingers and trimmed the stubble from the underside of my shaft.
“I’m glad to see you already keep your crotch shaved. That’s the way a boy should be and it saves me extra work!” he said, giving my cock a hard slap from below, sending it upward to smack against my belly.
Next, Sam went after my scrotum, clearing away the wiry hair that had grown in since last I shaved. He left my bush and I hoped that he was going to leave it alone. At least leave me with my pubic hair! I heard him rise and felt the heat and vibration of the clippers under my arms, taking away those signs of my manhood. The coolness of the air circulating over my denuded armpits was reminiscent of how I was when I was my Master’s boy. The feelings were beginning to creep into the recesses of my psyche, taking control of my body and turning me into a boy again. I’d forgotten how it felt to be possessed by a man and my body was responding. When he finished with my armpits, he took the fur off my forearms. “So thorough!” I thought. Why did I even consider that he might at least leave me with my bush? Sam brushed the shorn hair from my pits and then pinched my nipples.
“I need to make these babies stand up!” he said, “so that I don’t cut them off!” He laughed a mirthless laugh and I felt the buzzing on my chest.
I could feel the shorn hair cascading down my body as he took swath after swath of my chest hair. I was trembling, my legs shaking as he worked and my cock was standing at attention, dripping with pre-cum to which some of the hair clung as it rained down over my leaking dick. He trimmed off my chest hair and continued his work, removing my love trail and the hair on my belly. Then I could feel the clippers vibrating at the top of my bush. Once again, I protested loudly through the gag, shaking my body and felt a hard slap to my face.
“Hold still pig!” Sam shouted. “I told you if you move, you may lose more than you want. You’re my boy now and this is your last warning!”
Trembling, I tried to quiet myself, realizing that, regardless of whether or not I was “his boy”, I had no choice in the matter at this point; I was helpless to stop him. The clippers went through my bush, denuding me of the last sign of my manhood. The humiliation was exquisitely unbearable. I hung my head, whimpering and feeling the ooze pumping out of my penis.
He brushed the shorn hair from my body and then I felt the cool softness of foam as he lathered my body. He proceeded to shave me, taking care with my cock and scrotum as well as my nipples. Then he toweled the leftover foam off my body and I felt the air blowing over parts of me that hadn’t been exposed in years.
Sam unshackled my hands and I dropped my arms in relief, allowing the blood to flow back into my hands. But I wasn’t to enjoy this respite. He pushed me forward, forcing me to bend at the waist and place my hands on the floor. With my feet still shackled to the floor, my hole was now exposed. Once again, he used the clippers to clean the hair from my ass crack and around my hole then he lathered me up and shaved me smooth.
When he was finished he pulled me up and re-attached my wrists to the shackles hanging from the ceiling. Then he took off my blindfold. I blinked and squinted in the bright light, waiting for my eyes to adjust. When they did, what I saw in the mirror was shocking and humiliating. Looking back at me was a man-boy with a man’s musculature and physical development but a body completely denuded of masculine body hair. I hadn’t seen myself like this since before my Master died and the sense of déjà vu was humiliating and arousing. It was arousing because this degradation always excited me: the feeling of being under someone else’s control. It was humiliating because I really hadn’t chosen it. At least I’d willingly submitted to my Master and everything he dictated. But Sam had, in essence, raped my body, seizing my manhood with no concern for whether or not I wanted it.
Sam stood there admiring his handiwork, running his hands over my now smooth body and murmuring his satisfaction. He dug into my muscles, testing for their strength and tightness. He grabbed the globes of my ass and shook them. I was a piece of flesh to him; ready to be used for his pleasure. In the mirror, I could see him moving around me, feeling me, examining me and I shivered. I knew he’d taken possession of my body. I had a sense of how a slave on the auction block must feel as his buyer check out the goods he’s purchased. He was examining his booty, his prize. If I could have hidden, I would have. I wanted to cover myself and get away from his hungry eyes. The humiliation of being treated like a plaything was exquisite. When he’d finished inspecting me, he unbuckled the harness and pulled it off my head.
“One last thing,” he sneered and took the electric shears in his hand again. The cock gag was still in my mouth and I had no way to spit it out because it spread my jaws so wide. Hands would be needed to pull it out. But I squealed and cried.
“Please Sir,” I garbled unintelligibly. “Please don’t do this to me! Please don’t!”
Again, he slapped my face hard.
“Shut up slave!” he shouted fiercely. “You have no say in this. You’re mine to do with as I please!”
I collapsed and my arms were stretched painfully, forcing me to quickly straighten my legs again, aware that I was about to become a non-person. He started with my mustache, clearing the hair from my upper lip that I’d had for years; even before my Master died. Then Sam took the clippers and cut a swath from front to back, down the middle of my head. I could see the hair falling to the floor, gathering beneath my naked cock. Line after line until my head was completely shorn. Then he even trimmed my eyebrows. I looked like a moving mannequin: no hair anywhere on my body, except for my eyelashes. When he lathered my head and brows, I closed my eyes, tears streaming down my face. There was no way I was going to be able to hide this from anyone, least of all Patrick. It would be as though I were wearing a metal collar in public. Filled with my shame and misery, I felt the razor gliding over my head and face, removing the last vestiges of my manhood. I was profoundly humiliated and profoundly aroused.
Sam finished shaving me and put away those implements. Then he took a pair of plastic-tipped tit-clamps, pinched my nipples and placed the clamps on them, making me take a quick draw of breath. I almost came, so linked are my tits and my genitals. But Sam noticed my throbbing cock and my rising balls and quickly grabbed my testicle and pulled them down, forcing them to abort their imminent launch.
“Oh no!” he said. “Not yet you don’t. You come when I tell you!”
He took a donut-like ball stretcher and weight, opened it and closed it around my struggling balls, pulling them toward the ground. The stretch went from my balls into my abdomen, pushing an ache into my gut. I knew that I couldn’t come imprisoned this way.
Sam took a leather lanyard, tied it behind my cock head and tied the other end to the chain joining the tit clamps, pulling my nipples downward toward my upraised penis. The multiple sensations were making me rabid with need. I whined and whimpered, wanting only to come and get these things off me. But Sam wasn’t through with me.
“Now let’s see. How can I make sure my slave isn’t fucking around on his Master?” he asked, placing his hand on his chin as though he were considering the possibilities. I just looked at him, wide eyed.
What was he thinking about? Putting a chastity device on me like he had before? But Sam grinned an evil grin and a chill passed through me making goose bumps pop up all over my body. I knew it wouldn’t be a simple chastity device he had in store.
“I know,” he said. “I know just how to keep you under control!”
He went to the drawer and returned with needles, sterile pads, antiseptic pads and some tape. From his pocket, he pulled a small metal cone, a small lock and a gold ring. I knew what was coming and I began to shiver. He was really going to enslave me and mark me as his property!
He took an antiseptic pad and, after removing the clamp from it, swabbed my right tit. Then, again grinning at me, took my tit in his fingers, pulled it away from my chest and plunged the needle through, halfway back from the tip. I howled in pain as lights shattered against my eyeballs and stars fell to earth. Using the needle, he pulled the pierced nipple away from my body and inserted the ring through it. Then he closed it with a pair of pliers.
“Good boy,” he mocked, tweaking the ring and reinforcing the pain that burned my chest. “Now for the most important part. I don’t know why more masters don’t control their slaves this way; it’s so effective!”
I begged and cried as he untied my bound cock, took the hollow cone and pushed it painfully into my piss slit. He pressed on the head of my cock, assessing how far in the cone had intruded and when he was satisfied that it was positioned correctly, he wiped clean the larger needle he’d brought and pushed it in until I felt it stabbing into my urethra. I began to babble, begging him not to pierce me.
He looked up at me and flashed a wicked grin. “Ready boy?” he asked. “Sorry about not using any local anesthetic but you’re the doc; you should’ve thought of that! Besides, I want you to remember this occasion.”
I felt a blinding stab of pain that shot from my cock head to the base of my spine and straight up to my head like a flash fire. I bit down on the gag, trying not to scream, my head thrown back and my jaws straining to resist the pain. I could feel my teeth cleaving the latex of the dildo filling my mouth. Then he pushed the needle through the shaft of my cock and then puncturing the skin on the underside, finally pulling it out the bottom. I gasped for breath, frantically pulling air through my nostrils as he pulled the tube out and wailed when he took the padlock, pushed its hoop through the freshly reamed hole and locked it. He dropped my now limp cock and the weight of the lock jerked it down to bang against my thigh, sending a jolt of pain through my frame, making me grunt. I was sagging on the chains binding me up, my head drooping against my chest. He stood up and wrapped his arms around me, pressing against the ring piercing my tit and drawing a whimper from my exhausted throat.
“There, there boy; it’s all done. You’re mine now. No more pain today. I’m finished,” he cooed, stroking my shaved head and rubbing my butt.
I pushed against him, seeking the warmth of his body and his queer comfort. I was so hungry for comfort and release at that point that I would have huddled against Attila the Hun.
He stepped back, took my chin in his hand and lifted my face, looking searchingly into my eyes.
“You’re my boy aren’t you?”
i nodded wearily.
“Good boy,” He said, gently but firmly slapping my face before instructing me to open my jaws, from which He extracted the cock gag, not without some effort.
my jaw ached from being stretched and my tongue was sore from being pressed down for so long, especially since my piercing had caused so much exertion. Exertion is reflexively expressed through the vocal mechanism and having those muscles thwarted by a gag such as i’d had blocking my mouth, strains the throat and tongue. i gratefully moved my jaw and tongue to try to relax and release the stress.
Sir put down the gag and again grabbed my jaw. He pressed my mouth open and kissed me savagely, His tongue raping my mouth, His actions fucking my mind. i hated it but i wanted it. i hadn’t had such a level of abuse in over ten years and even then, my Master hadn’t abused me emotionally. i willingly submitted to His will. This was different; Sir was forcing me to submit; but submit i did. my need overcame my will and i fell before Him. He broke off the kiss and stood back.
“Thank You Sir,” i rasped out, my throat dry and raw.
“Good boy,” He said, “Good slave. You are my slave now, aren’t you boy?”
“Yes Sir,” i answered slowly. “i’m Yours to do with as You choose.” my lip quivered because in that second, i thought of Patrick. How would i explain this to him? What ever could i tell him that he would understand?
Master kissed me again and moved behind me, His hand parting my ass cheeks. i knew what was coming and i both hungered for it and dreaded it. He knelt, and holding the mounds of my butt apart, spat several times on my pulsing hole. He buried His nose in my crack and inhaled my smell. Then His tongue tickled my pucker, pushing the saliva in to lube my passage. i knew that was the only lubrication i’d get and i knew enough to be grateful for it. Spit isn’t as good as a good lube, but it’s better than being fucked dry. He tongued my chute for a while and I relaxed a bit. In fact, my assaulted penis was beginning to rise again, drawing double inspiration from what Master was doing in back and the pain of the piercing. A thought flew through my consciousness: was it, i wondered, a coincidence that the first to letters of “padlock” were “PA”?
Master pulled back from my ass and inserted two fingers to loosen me further. When He was satisfied that i was loose enough, He stood and i tried to brace myself to take His invasion. i’d certainly been fucked enough to know that i needed to relax and when i felt Him pressing against my rosebud, i pushed down to open myself to Him. There was a searing fire centered on the ring of flesh protesting His intrusion into my innards and i whined in pain as He relentlessly pushed in. i grunted and moaned at the pain of the assault. The fire continued to burn until i felt his body pressing against the hills of my butt. Finally, He was home. i breathed deeply, pushing down the pain and willing my sphincters to open wider and be mastered.
He began to thrust; slowly at first, withdrawing until i could feel His corona pressing against the insides of my ring of muscle. Then He’d return, driving His massive tool home again. Cycle after cycle. Eventually, His cock became coated with the mucus from my gut and the burning began to fade. i clutched at Him, hoping to give Him the pleasure He sought. His cock inside me was all that mattered at that moment. My life was to satisfy His want. Over and over again He took it home, His tempo gradually increasing as He and His new slave moved farther and farther down the road of need, desire and subjugation. my own dick was standing stiffly at the ready, aching with erection and shot through with the pain of being pierced. But i’d long ago learned the importance of the union of pleasure and pain. Master was showing it to me again and drawing me back into that snare. i was lost in a web of hunger, agony and want and i’m sure that pre-cum was oozing through the hole in the underside of my penis.
Faster and faster, harder and harder, His fingers pressing into my pelvis, His plow in my furrow. He was grunting and thrusting and i echoed his calls. Then i felt Him shiver and shake as He shouted in His ecstasy and filled my guts with His gift. i shouted in answer and my testicles pulled in vain against the weight that imprisoned them. This was a new pain and i groaned in the combined agony and exultation of an orgasm that was there but not there. There would be no launching of seed tonight. But my body knew the thrill of falling over the precipice.