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 39
When he’d finished with me, Master pulled out of me and I whimpered as my fuck chute collapsed, emptied of its possessor. Master took my wrists and shackled them to the headboard. Then he buckled cuffs around my ankles and tied them to the bed. Lastly, he unfastened the collar holding the catheter in my cock and pulled it from my penis. I felt each inch as it dragged out of my urethra, leaving my limp cock to flop against my abdomen. Master carefully threaded the padlock through my piercing and locked it again. He straddled my chest and placed his sloppy dick in my mouth.
“Clean!” he ordered and I took its slimy warmth in, ministering to it and removing my ass mucus and his cum from it.
When he was satisfied, he got off me and walked toward the door.
“Good night boy. Sleep tight. I might be back in the morning to let you loose.”
“Master,” I cried, alarmed. “Please Master, don’t do this to me! I have patients. Please!” I called after him, but he didn’t come back.
The lights went out as he went through the apartment, finally leaving me in complete darkness, bound to my bed. I could only pray that there were no emergencies during the night. Fortunately, I’ve set up a back-up plan and my service will turn to another doctor if they can’t reach me. God, I was glad I’d thought of that!
I slept fitfully, sated from my orgasm but my skin still burning from the beating I’d been given and stinging from the pool of piss in which Master had left me. Then, sometime in the middle of the night (I couldn’t see the clock so I couldn’t tell exactly when), the phone rang.
“Oh please,” I thought, “don’t let it be a patient.”
I heard the answering machine pick up and my heart burst. It wasn’t a patient; it was Patrick.
“Mark? Mark, are you there? Mark, please pick up. Please...” he pleaded plaintively.
My heart clenched inside my chest. I wished I could have picked up. I wanted to talk to him so badly, but I was powerless to get to the phone.
“Mark? Please talk to me Mark! I’ve missed you so much. Why won’t you talk to me?”
Patrick paused, waiting. Then, at last:
“OK. Maybe you’re out. Please call me in the morning when you get this. Please Mark. I need to talk to you. I just need to hear your voice and know you still love me.”
And he hung up. Tears filled my eyes and spilled out the corners, running like hot streams down the sides of my face as I wept aloud. I could hear the sorrow and disappointment in his voice. How could this have happened? It was like my nightmare. I wanted him so much but was completely unable to get to him, even to talk on the phone.
Somewhere in the night, I must have slept because I heard my front door open and I was immediately awake.
“Master, please! I need to get to the office. Please. I have patients I have to see!” I cried out, realizing that he’d probably punish me for speaking but I’d just have to risk that. Hopefully, he realized that this could potentially be a life or death matter.
Sam came into the room and began to unbind me.
“Relax boy. It’s only 7:00. You have time,” he said as he worked.
It felt so good to be able to move again and I flexed and stretched my limbs, trying to get their motion back. When I was free to sit up, Sam stood in the door.
“Say good morning and thank you to your Master, boy. Show proper respect and you can go to work.”
I swallowed the anger rising in my throat and got down on my hands and knees before crawling to him.
“Thank you Master. Thank you for freeing me to go to work. Thank you for fucking me last night,” I said, kissing his shoes.
“Good boy!” he crowed. “I like the way you say good morning. Have a good day now and I’ll see you tonight.” And he turned and left me there on my knees.
Hurriedly, and angrily, I arose and got ready for the office. I did my office hours in the morning and left immediately for rounds at the hospital. It helped that I wasn’t in the office to have to refuse Patrick’s call, though I thought of him every other second and felt slightly sick. I went through my rounds, going through my explanation of my new appearance with my patients and colleagues. At least that was going better. But every time I went through it I thought of Patrick and how I’d betrayed him. Then, as I was grabbing a cup of too strong, too cold, too acid coffee:
“Mark?!?", I heard Janie shriek. “Mark, what on earth?”
“Janie,” I said, falsely hale and hearty, hoping against hope to cover my embarrassment and shame.
“What happened Mark? You look like a cancer patient! Are you sick? What’s wrong?” she asked, looking shaken.
“No,” I said. “No, nothing like that. I just thought I’d try something different.” My breeziness was beginning to become thin.
Janie looked into my eyes with that look that I knew so well; that look that showed she clearly didn’t believe me.
“Want to try again Marky?” she said, using that endearment that she knew would cut to my core. Fortunately, we were alone at the moment, because my eyes stung and I was terribly afraid I’d start to cry again.
“Oh Janie,” I said, my throat catching. “You remember what we talked about this weekend? About my love life?”
“Yeah... and? What’s that got to do with your hair?”
“Well it’s complicated. But...”
I threw my arms up. How could I explain all this to her? I’d never really gotten into my tastes with her, though she might have guessed from the way Jesse dressed. But who knows what straight women know about gay kink?
“Janie, I really can’t tell you; at least not right now. It’s complicated. But someone did this to me!” I blurted out. “Please don’t ask questions right now. Okay?”
Janie’s eyebrows went up in a question. Then she knit her brow and frowned at me. I could see the questions and worries flying across her face. Finally she reached out and touched my arm.
“Okay Marky, whatever you say. Just please be careful, okay? Please don’t get into trouble.”
“I won’t. I promise. Thanks Janie.”
“For what?”
“For not asking too many questions. I promise; sometime I’ll tell you.”
“No problem Mark. Just don’t become a statistic, okay?”
“I won’t,” I said and we went separate ways.
Executive Stress Relief—Chapter 40
I arrived home around 7:00, stripped off and got my dinner, keeping it light, knowing that I was probably in for another hard session with Sam. I ate, had a glass of wine to relax a little and went to the bathroom to check my smoothness and give myself an enema to cleanse myself. Then, about 7:55, there was a knock on the door.
It was too early for Sam. But what if he was trying to catch me? Should I follow his orders and get on the floor, collared and leashed, and ask him in? But what if it wasn’t Sam? My mind filled with conflicting thoughts, I pulled my robe on, went to the door and opened it a crack. My God! It was Patrick. I started to push the door closed but he’d heard me coming and was leaning on it, just like a push-in robbery. He was inside before I could stop him.
Patrick stood there, his arms spread as though to hug me, but frozen in horror at what he saw, his mouth agape.
“Mark? Mark, wh-what happened? What’s happened to you?” he cried, looking at my head and then at my body, which was partially exposed since I’d neglected to tie my robe. The marks from last night’s beating were still quite visible on my thighs, abdomen and chest.
He reached out a hand and touched my head and then my chest, hissing as he touched me. His eyes were filled with pain. As he ran his hand across my smooth chest, his fingers happened across my right nipple and stopped. He pulled my robe open and looked down, his eyes moving back and forth between my pierced nipple and padlocked cock. He ran his hands over my shaved body, his mouth wordlessly opening and closing. The look of shock on his face was almost physically painful for me.
“Please Patrick,” I cried, “You can’t stay here; Sam will be here any minute!”
“He did this to you!” Patrick exclaimed. “What’s he done? What’s happened? I’ll kill him!” he said vehemently.
Patrick’s voice was rising, but glancing at the clock, I realized I needed to deal with him quickly and get him out of there. I just couldn’t have Sam arrive and find Patrick here; it could be disaster for both of us.
“Patrick, listen to me,” I said, leaning forward and kissing him on the mouth to shut him up. Truth be told, I needed to kiss him too: I needed to taste him again. “I can’t explain all this right now and I can’t undo it” I said, talking fast. “Sam’s enslaved me. He intends to take me away from you. I won’t leave you; I promise. But we need to work out how we’re going to outflank him and I can’t work it out right now. I need your help, but for now, I need you to go. If he arrives and finds you here, I’m sure he’ll carry through on his threat to tell Sarah and we’re not ready for that. Please go now before he gets here. He’ll be here any minute!”
Patrick was in shock. Finally he spoke.
“At least tell me you’re alright. And that you still love me,” he begged.
“Patrick,” I said quietly, my eyes burning. “I’m so sorry I haven’t called you or answered your messages. I was too embarrassed and I didn’t think I could talk without falling apart. I can’t even tell you everything right now because there isn’t time. But yes, I’m alright and I love you more than anything else in the world. Please believe me,” I said, taking him in my arms and kissing him hard.
He put his arms around me and crushed me against his chest as his tongue invaded my mouth. I could feel his mound pushing against my own genitals and I felt throbs as he began to stiffen.
“Patrick,” I said, reluctantly pushing him away. “Patrick, you have to go! Sam will be here. Please go now!”
“Alright,” he said dejectedly. “Can I call you tomorrow? We need to work something out don’t we? How can we do that if we don’t talk?”
“You’re right,” I sighed. “I’m sorry. I just wasn’t ready. But now that you’ve seen me, I’ve nothing to hide from you. We can talk tomorrow.”
We stood holding one another and looking into each other’s eyes. Then, my ears picked up the sound of the elevator arriving on my floor.
“Oh my God, it’s Sam!” I said whispered sharply. “Quick, get in the coat closet. What ever you do, don’t let him know you’re here. Whatever you hear, don’t come out until we’ve gone to the training room. Then get out! I’ll call you tomorrow.”
I kissed him as I pushed him into the closet. “I love you,” I added and closed the door. I pulled it open again and threw my robe in after snatching my collar and leash from the pocket. I buckled my collar on as I dropped to my knees.
“Just stall like you did before,” I prayed as I moved to get myself in order.
Just as I placed the leash in my mouth, Master knocked on the door.
“Master, your boy is waiting. Please enter Sir,” I said, trying to steady my ragged breathing, speaking through my clenched teeth.
Executive Stress Relief—Chapter 41
The door opened and closed and the deadbolt slid home. I knelt there, my head bowed, my hands clasped behind my back, struggling to control my breathing. Sam stood there in front of me and I could feel his eyes on my body, making me flush.
“Why are you breathing hard boy?” he demanded sharply. “Weren’t you ready for me? Have you been sleeping?”
“No Master,” I answered, taking the leash from my mouth and trying to sound submissive. “I-I—” Think fool! “I’m excited that you’re here to discipline me again!” I blurted out.
I could tell he wasn’t buying it but I decided to say nothing more. Surely he wouldn’t push the issue since that would end up badly for both of us with him having to hear me tell him that I didn’t want him here. This way he could punish me anyway, since that was his prerogative and he wouldn’t have to know whether or not I really wanted his attentions.
I waited, my leash in my hand, held up for him. He walked around me and, I presumed, looked around the apartment to see if he could spot anything amiss. I realized that, since Patrick had chosen to come up, he’d at least chosen the right moment when Sam was getting ready for our session. Any other time, Sam might have been on duty and suspected that something was up, even if Patrick had used the garage entrance. I had to remember to warn Patrick that Sam could easily spot comings and goings. Until we were able to push him out of the picture, Patrick would have to be very careful if he came here.
Finally, Sam took the leash from my hand and strode angrily down the hall, yanking me behind him as I scrambled on all fours to keep up. He led me into the training room and directed me up onto the bench where he inspected my ass for cleanliness, shoving two fingers in as far as they would go and twisting them around, stretching my hole and drawing gasps from my throat as he set my fuck chute on fire. He pulled his fingers out and put them in my mouth to me to clean them. Because I’d cleaned myself already, there was only a little bit of mucus on them, making it quick work. Then he pulled me off the bench and placed me under the chains hanging from pulleys in the ceiling. He found a set of stocks that my first Master had used on me years ago but which had been sitting in a closet ever since. The stocks were hinged at one end with a hasp and flap for locking at the other end. He opened the stocks and ordered me to raise my hands to shoulder level. Then he closed and locked the stocks, trapping my wrists and my neck. He clipped chains onto the large eye bolts on either end and activated the pulley system, raising the stocks so that the neck hole was pulled up tight under my chin. He buckled shackles onto my ankles and, spreading my legs, clipped these to eye bolts in the floor.
Next, Sam got a long rope from the closet and proceeded to tie me in a web. He started at my chest, wrapping the rope around it and knotting it, causing my tits to stand out. Then he drew the ends of the rope upward and looped them around me neck. He crisscrossed my body, enmeshing my torso. He brought the rope under my ass and tied it at the base of my cock and balls before wrapping it around my ball sack ten or more times, stretching my balls away from my body. Then he pulled it through the padlock piercing my dick head and pulled it up against my belly, tying it off around my waist. Next, he crisscrossed the rope, moving up my body toward my head. When he got to my head, he crossed it in several figure eights over my eyes, effectively blindfolding me and, after ordering me to open my mouth and stick out my tongue, he tied the rope around my tongue. I was now tied into a gag and blindfold, all with a single piece of rope. The feel of the rope hugging my body and binding me caused my penis to swell and throb in response to its bondage.
I thought he might be finished but I heard him moving about and in a moment, I felt something that seemed to be soft plastic against the tip of my exposed, bound tongue. I felt it again and in a moment, I understood what he’d done as my tits were sucked into snakebite suckers. Then he left me for a while.
I’m not sure how much time went by but my tits were beginning to feel a little sore when I heard Sam come back in the room. He moved around a little and then came back to where I stood in bondage. He removed the snakebites and I shivered from the feeling of the cold air on my swollen, wet nipples. I felt his fingers brushing the distended tits and then each was wrapped with a leather lanyard and tied off, keeping them in their swollen state. I could feel the blood dripping down from my right tit and knew that the suction had opened the piercing wound. I’m sure Sam didn’t care: there’d been blood on the floor before and would be again. It was easy to wash it down. Then I felt a light tapping on each nipple, alternating from one to the other. It felt like a piece of leather, flicking the puffy nubs. The tapping became more vigorous and the swishing sound told me that Sam was using a riding crop. My cock strained against the web of rope encasing it and binding it to my abdomen as I realized that I was in for another hard beating tonight. Being beaten with a crop is like being cut with a knife: it’s hard and thin and cuts at the flesh when wielded with sufficient force. No, I was not going to be a happy slave when the night was over.
The tapping on my tits continued, becoming harder and harder, until they began to protest the constant assault and I started to moan. Then he began to include my belly, striking the places that showed through the net of rope. Again, when the pain mounted up, I started to squirm and grunt in protest. He increased the force of his blows, ever so gradually raising the threshold until it had reached the level of pain, almost without my realizing it had crossed over. Then he stopped.
He moved around me, flicking my body in various places; the thighs, the belly, the ass, the back, the balls. Each blow came from a different place and landed on a different part of my body, keeping me unprepared. Finally, he landed a hard blow on my ass, making me howl in spite of having my tongue bound. Now he concentrated on my butt, repeatedly raining blows on my exposed ass cheeks.
Suddenly, he stopped.
“What? What was that?” he asked sharply.
I’d been crying out with each blow and had heard nothing.
I’d been standing in the dark closet, waiting for an opportunity to leave. I hated leaving Mark like that and would have done whatever I needed to do to rescue him from this horrible man, but I realized his wisdom in saying we needed to have a plan before we did anything. I don’t know how long it was, but I finally heard Mark’s muffled cries and I knew that Sam was in the process of working him over. I’d better get out now. I couldn’t possibly stay until Sam left because Sarah would be wondering where the hell I was. So I listened to get Sam’s timing right and opened the door in time with one of his strokes. Then, putting my hand on the doorknob and the deadbolt, I waited again. At the instant the blow fell, I unlocked the door and slipped through. As I started down the hall, it hit me.
“Shit!” I said to myself. “The damn door was bolted. You have to lock it or Sam’ll know someone was there and left”.
So I went back and tried to, as quietly as possible, slip my key into the deadbolt lock. The only problem now was I really couldn’t hear what was going on inside Mark’s apartment. Breathing a prayer, I turned the key ever so gently and slowly. I heard the cylinders rotating and then the bolt slid home with a loud click.
“Damn!” I breathed vehemently and ran for the stair. No time to wait for the elevator. No telling what would happen if Sam came out and found me in the hall.
I reached the door that opened onto the stairs and bolted through, pushing it closed behind me as fast as I could but making sure it went the last few millimeters slowly and softly. When the door hit the jam, I turned and ran down the stairs and out into the garage. I walked up the ramp to the street and went the long way around the block, in case the man covering the door that night was in league with Sam. I slowed down when I’d gotten several blocks between me and Mark’s building and headed for home, knowing that I couldn’t wait very much longer to talk to Sarah. I had to do something to free Mark from his slavery.
I knew immediately what Sam must have heard. I gave a garbled yell, hoping to distract him and give Patrick extra time to escape. I prayed that what he’d heard wasn’t Patrick opening the door, or we might be done for. Sam took my face in his hand and yelled at me.
“What? What are you trying to say?” he demanded. “Shit, why am I trying to talk to you?”
I yelled again, trying to hold his attention but he pushed me away and ran out of the room, leaving me panicked. What if he caught Patrick? I stood there, blind, gagged, whimpering in fear and hope. A few moments later he returned.
“Was he here?” he yelled fiercely. “Was your faggot here?”
“No Sir,” I tried to say, shaking my head vigorously. “No, no, he wasn’t here.”
“Tell me the truth,” he screamed, slashing down on my cock with the crop and making me scream in pain.
“No,” I garbled. “I swear.”
He unknotted the rope around my head and released my tongue.
“If you’re lying to me, you’ll both pay dearly,” he threatened. “I can ruin both your lives and enslave him too. And,” he added menacingly, “I can fix it so you’re both living in the same place and never see one another.”
“Master, I swear,” I said pleadingly, “He wasn’t here. I don’t know what you heard but he wasn’t here. Maybe it was the pipes,” I offered desperately.
“Tell me the truth!” he yelled and slashed at my ass.
Again I screamed and thrust my pelvis forward in an attempt to escape the crop.
“No!” I screamed.
He removed the rope web saying he needed to have access to my entire body to beat the truth out of me.
“Now tell me! Tell me the truth!” he yelled again, this time whipping my tender nipples with the crop and dragging another scream of pain from my throat.
“No,” I cried, determined.
Again and again he slashed at me, leaving bright red marks across my chest, thighs, back and ass. He even took after my stretched testicles, striking at them like some sort of piñata. My throat was raw with screaming and denials. I didn’t know how much more I could take and I focused my mind on Patrick’s smiling blue eyes, imagining the joy I’d find in them when we could be together again. I’d never betray him to Sam-never!
“No! No! No!” I screamed again and again as he flailed my agonized body with the crop. I could feel the angry red welts rising everywhere.
Finally, there was nothing left in me to scream with; my throat would no longer produce sound as I sagged against the stocks.
“Please believe me,” I begged voicelessly, tears and sweat streaking my face and dripping down my body, making the red slashes burn all the more.
Finally, either he believed me or his arm became too tired to beat me any longer. He dropped the crop and sat down.
“Alright slave. I guess if he’d been here, I’d have gotten it out of you by now,” he breathed, winded from his exertions and his fury.
When he’d caught his breath, he arose and unhooked the chains from the stocks. I collapsed to my knees, groaning in anguish. He unlatched the stocks and removed them from my neck and wrists. I fell forward, barely catching myself with my numb hands. He lifted me to my feet, his hands drawing voiceless cries from me whenever they touched my flaming skin. Once again, he bent and draped my exhausted body over his shoulder and carried me into the bedroom. This time he lowered me gently onto the bed.
“Would you like a cold bath boy?” he asked solicitously.
I don’t know what made him suddenly concerned about my welfare. Maybe he was afraid that I might go into shock as a result of my beating and he’d be stuck with an ER case. My brain was functioning well enough to know that a cool bath would provide immense relief so I nodded my assent.
“Cool, not cold,” was all I could hoarsely say.
I heard him running the tub and I closed my eyes, everything going black. I was awakened by a searing of my flesh as Sam bent to help me to my feet, placing his arm around my back. Leaning on him and groaning, I hobbled to the bathroom and, with his help, climbed into the tub. As I sank into the cool water, my nerve endings sang out for me, decrying the brutality to which I’d been subjected. Then the coolness of the water calmed their burning and they began to quiet down. Sam sat down on the edge of the tub, his eyes on me: watching, I think, for signs of medical distress that might necessitate a trip to the hospital. However cruel he was, he didn’t want a dead doctor on his hands.
“Good!” I thought. “Let him worry. He should worry: he nearly killed me with his jealousy, the bastard!”
Welcoming the deliverance of sleep, I closed my eyes, delivering myself into the arms of Somnus. I have no idea how much later, Sam awakened me, shaking my shoulder.
“C’mon boy,” he said, still looking worried. “Let’s get you to bed so that you can get some rest.”
He helped me out of the tub and gently dried my unhappy body. He’d found some massage oil in my cabinet and tenderly applied that to my wounds, hoping to help the healing process.
From somewhere in my consciousness, I pulled up Jim’s commitment ceremony in Vermont that was scheduled for this coming weekend.
“Master,” I husked, knowing that this was a good moment to ask, since he was feeling guilty. “I’ve been invited to the commitment ceremony of a friend this weekend. May I have your permission to attend? I accepted the invitation months ago. Please Sir.”
He looked at me critically.
“Will he be there?” he demanded.
“No Sir,” I lied.
He looked at me long and hard.
“Alright,” he said grudgingly. “You can go. But in the future, you will accept no more invitations or engagements without my permission. Is that clear?”
“Yes Sir,” I answered quietly. “Thank you Sir.”
Executive Stress Relief—Chapter 42
If I’d thought that Master would let me go to sleep without reasserting his possession of me, I was mistaken. He just decided that tonight he’d take my mouth rather than my inflamed ass. He had me lay on the bed and he climbed up on my chest, which was also marked, but not as severely. He ordered me to take his penis in my mouth and bring it to a full erection. I took it in and did my best, weary as I was, trying to do as much as I could with my tongue to arouse him. I tickled the underside of his corona and nibbled on his meatus. I pushed the tip of my tongue into his urethra and curled it around the front of his helmet. I could feel the blood flowing in and stiffening his member, spreading my jaws and stretching my lips. Larger and longer it grew, filling my mouth and pushing down my throat.
I covered my teeth with my taut lips and struggled to keep my molars from snagging his flesh. I knew he wouldn’t punish me again tonight if he felt my teeth but a punishment would be earned nevertheless if I gigged him. And a delayed punishment is always worse, whether the delay was my fault or not.
I could feel and taste his pre-cum oozing from his piss-slit and sliding down my throat. I exhaled around his massive cock, bathing it in my warm, moist breath and I sang, making my throat vibrate, although I was still pretty hoarse. He began to get more and more excited until he clasped my smooth head in his hands and pulled me into his crotch. My nose was buried in his pubic hair and the smell of his sweat and maleness filled my brain. His heavy balls collided with my chin and jaw as his thrusting accelerated. Once again, I was being drawn helplessly in by the gravity of his dark matter. That need for domination that he’d awakened overwhelmed me once again and I was lost in its grip. His throbbing penis filled my throat and cut off my air supply with each thrust. I tried to get my breathing into his rhythm but was beginning to suffer from oxygen deprivation, making me light-headed and dizzy. But my mouth and throat didn’t care. They were given over to his possession.
In and out, over and over again, his spit slicked column slid, rising on the stimulation of my submissive throat. Each thrust pushed a muffled squeal out of my chest and I knew that added to his excitement, both with the additional vibration and the aural confirmation that he was, once again, subjugating me. I was his in that moment and he knew it.
Finally, I could feel the urgent spasms beginning in his cock and I reached up for his nipples, giving them a hard pinch and a twist. I knew that Sam was turned on by his tits too and I used that response to take him over the top. The cum came in floods, filling my throat and mouth and dribbling down my chin as I strove in vain to keep up with the flow, swallowing as fast as I could manage while still struggling for breath. I was beginning to see stars and, remarkably, in that second, I felt my own dick throb and jerk, delivering up the seed that had been building in my testicles for the last couple of days. I heard my first jet splash against his back and felt the next spurts fall onto my belly as I gasped for air around the pole that filled my mouth. The muscles in my pelvis contracted again and again, pumping the semen out of my cock and, as the stars intensified and multiplied across my field of vision, suddenly, with my lungs screaming for air, everything went black.