The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Comments will be gladly received by 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

Please note my thanks to Aaron for his invaluable input on this entire story. Thank you my friend.

Executive Stress Relief—Chapter 52

I opened my office the next morning, arriving early for my new patient. I’d instructed Sam to arrive at 7:15 sharp. Sure enough, at the appointed time, the door opened and the big man (well, big boy now) walked in. He was in a light trance already because I’d told him that when he opened the door to his doctor’s office, he would become suggestible and compliant. He still had some of the bearing of a top but the look in his eyes belied that illusion. I’d soon take that out of him as well. Soon, he’d no longer be walking around with his basket thrust forward like a battering ram looking for a gate to break through.

“Come in Sam,” I said affably. “Use the last room on the left. I’ll be right with you. Be sure to remove all your clothes for your treatment. And take your rings out too. I don’t want them interfering with your session.”

“Yes sir,” Sam answered, looking slightly confused.

While I had him under yesterday, I’d planted suggestions that he would treat me with utmost respect and do whatever I asked him to do. He would comply without understanding why and thus, would be further humiliated by finding himself stripping off at the suggestion of the man who had previously been his slave. He went down the hall and entered the room. I gave him about twenty seconds head start and followed him. I wanted him to experience the humiliation of stripping in front of me. I was going to do this in stages, first making him want to obey me as a doctor and then turning him into my boy. It meant extra work for me because I’d have two boys to deal with. But Patrick was more than just my boy: he was my lover and everything I did for him I did because I loved him. With Sam, it would be more a case of my just being a responsible caretaker. I’d discovered, to my own chagrin, that he was, at heart, a brutal, sadistic top and needed to be controlled. So I would, in effect, kennel him and take him out of circulation.

When I entered the room, his shirt was off, showing his now smooth chest and pierced nipples. When I came through the door, he stopped, his hands on his nipple rings, and stared at me, frowning. He looked down at the rings and frowned even more.

“Continue,” I ordered and I could see the struggle in his brain.

He was trying to resist my instructions but his body wasn’t cooperating. He removed the rings from his nipples and put them in his pants pocket. I looked at his body and he blushed, dropping his eyes as I examined him. I’d decide later whether or not I might ever want him to grow his body hair back. If I decided that I preferred him smooth, I’d have the electrolysis done to permanently remove all his body hair. But he was sexy when he was furry. Then again, I reminded myself, that’s when he was topping me and I still was under his sway. Things had changed now. He was removing his shoes and socks. Once they were off, he undid his pants and lowered them, turning his back on me and showing me his white butt since I’d ordered him not to wear underpants.

“Nice butt,” I said, grabbing a handful of it and squeezing it while his leg was raised to allow him to take his pants off.

“Thank you sir,” he said through gritted teeth, almost falling over, somewhat distracted by my man-handling of his muscular ass.

“Take the ring out of your cock and get on the table boy,” I ordered, slapping his penis.

He grunted and took the PA out of his cock, pocketed it and lay on his back on the table. Yes, he was very sexy just like this: muscular and smooth with the protruding tits and the savage tattoo that now made him look more like a Celtic slave than a Celtic warrior. Maybe I’d get his cock and part of his crotch tattooed as well. I paused and pictured him with tribal swirls licking up his cock and sweeping across his denuded crotch. My cock hardened and the idea of electrolysis was becoming more attractive.

I brought the electrostimulus machine over to the table and arranged the leads, laying them across Sam’s torso. Then I applied contact gel to each one and began placing them on his chest. As I pressed the cold pads against his skin, he drew short breaths and his penis began to lengthen. One on his left side, one on his left upper chest, one in his armpit, etc. Then I applied a lead to the head of his cock. Finally, I took the two leads left and began to massage his nipples in my hands, rolling them around, making them erect. Then I placed the last two leads on them. His eyes followed my movements, betraying the worry that was filling his mind. He couldn’t understand why he wasn’t able to resist me. And to his obvious discomfort, his dick was pulsing against his belly, reaching for his navel as it throbbed.

“There’s a great deal we’ve learned about electrical stimulation in the last few years, and its application to the sexual organs of the body and how that can alter brain function. Now be a good boy and lie still for me while I continue your reprogramming.” With that, I started the machine.

I could see from the expression on Sam’s face that he felt the charges coming through the leads on his chest, armpits, tits and cock. It wasn’t uncomfortable—far from it: it felt very good.

All the while, I was murmuring “Just relax. Just settle back and relax. Don’t worry about a thing. Just relax. That’s it. That’s right. Good boy. Just relax.” His eyes began to droop and I could tell he was beginning to feel a little drowsy and turned on at the same time. I continued to speak in my deep, quiet voice and Sam closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of my hands stroking his body, the stimulation on his nipples and penis and the sound of my voice urging him to relax. His eyes closed; he was under. I left him for a couple of minutes, allowing the stimulation to deepen his arousal and relaxation.

“Sam... Sam... Sit up for me.” I spoke to him like a child while I stroked his forehead.

As he raised his head, I placed my hand behind his neck and helped him sit up.

“Now,” I said, “Come sit in this chair for me. That’s a good boy.”

He slid off the table and sat in the chair that I’d placed beside the table. I pulled a wheeled cart around and positioned it in front of him. There was a laptop computer sitting on the cart. I attached a cable to the laptop and connected it to the electro unit.

“OK, Sam. You’re having problems with stress, aren’t you? You’ve been doing things you know you shouldn’t and it’s become too difficult for you hasn’t it?”

I knew he felt drowsy and just wanted to rest.

“Yes I. I feel all wound up,” he answered drowsily.

“You’ve been uncomfortable with the things you’ve been doing, haven’t you Sam?” I suggested.

He paused.

“Yes,” he said slowly. “I’ve been uncomfortable with what I’ve been doing.”

“You want to be better. You want to be more comfortable, don’t you Sam?” I prompted.

“Yes, I want to be more comfortable,” he said distantly.

“Do you want me to help you Sam?”

He looked up sleepily into my eyes with his heavy-lidded eyes.

“Yes sir. Will you help me please?”

“I’d be more than happy to. It will probably take a number of treatments to help you get over this, but I’ve developed a wonderful method of stress relief that will be of great benefit to you. Are you ready to start, my boy?”

“Yes sir; show me please.”

“OK, just watch the screen and listen to me. You’ll begin to feel better soon.”

“I feel better already. I feel relaxed,” he smiled.

“That’s good Sam. Good boy. Watch the screen and listen. You’re feeling so relaxed. You can trust me. So relaxed.”

As he watched, a pattern wove itself across the screen in front of him. He would feel like he was being absorbed into it. It was so pleasant. I kept speaking in my quiet voice.

“Just relax. Release the tension. Deeper, deeper the relaxation goes. Your legs are relaxed, your arms are relaxed. Each finger is relaxed. Good boy. You’re feeling so relaxed...”

As Sam’s attention was riveted on the hypnotic patterns, I stepped behind him and began massaging his strong neck and shoulders, all the while maintaining my chant.

“Relax. Listen to my voice. You’re relaxing and releasing the tension and enjoying the sound of my voice. Good boy. Just relax...”

As I talked, I moved down Sam’s chest, massaging and kneading the muscles, running my fingers over his muscular planes.

“You’re relaxing more deeply. My voice is your source of self-knowledge. I will help you discover your true self. You’re coming to depend on my voice.”

With that I reached Sam’s brown nipples with the electrodes covering them. I pressed my fingers into the pads and moved them in circles, moving his nipples around on his chest.. He groaned and his dick throbbed at the stimulation. Sam had well-developed tits but I could see room for further improvement. I’d recently seen photos of a model with nipples that stuck out half an inch from his chest, like stubby pencils. I’d have to get Sam a nipple pump with some narrow tubes and order him to wear them half an hour, three or four times a day. Soon he’d be sporting nips like this model. Very sexy! And what top doesn’t like a boy with big nips to tug on and torture to keep him in line?

Sam was now ready for the core of today’s “treatment”. His cock was throbbing and he was completely entranced.

“Sam, can you hear me boy?” I asked, bending close to his ear.

“Yes sir,” he answered.

“You want to be more relaxed don’t you boy?”

“Yes sir. I’m too tense sir.”

“And why are you tense Sam? Is it because you’ve done things you know aren’t right?”

“Yes sir. I’m tense because I’ve done things I know aren’t right.”

“You know you’ll feel better if you don’t do them again don’t you boy?”

“Yes sir. I’ll feel better if I don’t do them again.”

“Good boy,” I said, smiling. This was going quite well.

“Sam, I’m going to suggest some things to you that will help you be more relaxed. You’ll do them because you want to be relaxed. You’ll do them because you know it will please your doctor. Isn’t that right Sammy?”

“Yes sir. I’ll do them because I want to please my doctor and I want to be more relaxed.”

“Good boy. You’re such a good boy.”

“I want to be a good boy,” Sam said distantly, smiling slightly.

“Now Sammy, here’s what I want you to do. First, when you’re with other people, you’re shy. You aren’t sure you’re good enough. You don’t know what to do. So you will look to others to tell you what to do in sexual situations. You’re like a little boy; you have no experience in these things.”

“I’m like a little boy. I don’t know what to do. I need someone to tell me what to do.”

“You need a master or a daddy to tell you what to do,” I corrected. I certainly didn’t want Sam finding a mistress to pull his chain. So I’m selfish that way? So what?

“I need a master or a daddy to tell me what to do.”

“You will go to the Bondage Club to look for masters to show you what you need to do. You will ask them to use you and treat you like the slave you know you are.”

Sam hesitated. Clearly he was fighting this suggestion. I’d been expecting to hit a roadblock sooner or later. I was digging deep into his psyche and knew that, at some point, he’d resist.

“Do you want to be better Sam? Are you going to follow your doctor’s orders?” I pushed.

He grimaced and gritted his teeth.

“No,” he gasped out.

“You want to be better, don’t you Sam?” I pressed. If he still resisted, I’d back off and try another time. I could be patient after all.

“I will look at the Bondage Club for men to show me what to do. I will ask them to use me and treat me like the slave I am,” he ground out.

Then, “No! I can’t,” he said sharply. “Please, don’t make me do that,” he almost cried.

“Alright Sam, calm down. It’s alright. You don’t have to do that. We’ll find another way to help you. Perhaps later you’ll be ready,” I said soothingly, stroking his shoulders and rubbing his nipples to calm him down.

I knew that Sam had, on occasion, gone to the Bondage Club because he’d mentioned it to me. I also knew he’d gone as a 100% top. Having to show up as a complete bottom would be a complete humiliation to him and he wasn’t yet compliant enough to accept that. I also knew the Bondage Club was a pretty safe destination to plant in Sam’s mind. I couldn’t just send him out into the streets seeking anyone to fuck him; that would be far too dangerous. So I’d decided that a monitored establishment where all play was done according to safe-sex guidelines was best. This way, he’d seek the humiliation and bondage but wouldn’t be picking up any STDs. But that would have to wait:

“OK boy. Let’s talk about your tension. All that tension you feel is concentrated in your tits and your asshole.”

“All that tension is in my tits and asshole,”

“You need to have your tits worked and your asshole filled to relieve the tension.”

“I need to have my tits worked and my asshole filled to relieve the tension.”

“Very good Sammy. I’m very pleased,” I said soothingly. “You’re doing very well Sammy.”

It was time for the next step.

“I’m your doctor; isn’t the right Sam?” I asked.

“Yes sir, you’re my doctor,” he answered.

“And I want only the best for you don’t I?”

“Yes sir, I know you want only the best for me.”

“I’m like your father, aren’t I Sam?”

“Yes sir, you’re like my father.”

“Do you respect your father Sam?”

“Yes sir. He was a powerful man,” he answered.

“Did your father punish you Sam? When you were bad?”

“Yes sir,” he answered, grimacing and squirming in the seat. “When I was bad, he whipped me.”

That was exactly the response I expected and was hoping for.

“I know you respected him. I want you to think of me as your father.”

“Yes sir,” he said. “Think of you as my father.”

“You can call me Daddy. I want you to call me Daddy,” I said.

“Yes sir. Yes Daddy.”

“Good. I’m your Daddy. Now tell your Daddy: do you need to be punished boy? You’ve been a bad boy haven’t you?”

“Yes Daddy. I’ve been a bad boy. I hurt people. I need to be punished.”

This was making me hot. I checked the clock and saw that I had ten minutes before anyone arrived. Hurriedly, I removed the electrodes from his body and sat in another chair.

“Very well then boy. Crawl over here and take your punishment. It hurts your Daddy to have to punish his boy but it’s for your own good.”

“Yes Daddy. Thank you.”

Sam got down on the floor and crawled to me, tears already coming to his eyes. He laid himself across my lap, his white globes sticking up in the air. His cock was brushing against my pants legs. I pushed a finger into his pink, puckered hole and wiggled it around, making him squirm and whimper. I could feel his cock throb against my thigh. I felt a wet spot on my pants leg and realized he was leaking as he rubbed against me.

“I’m sorry I was bad Daddy,” he whimpered as I raised my hand.

Smack. Sam’s body shook and flushed in embarrassment.

“Thank your Daddy boy. Thank him for loving his boy enough to discipline him.”

“Thank you Daddy. Thank you for loving me enough to discipline me.”

Smack.

“Thank you Daddy.”

Smack, smack, smack.

“Ow. Ow. Thank you Daddy.”

His butt was beginning to turn pink as I paddled him. I gave him thirty whacks and ordered him to get up. He was crying and sniffling as he rose from my lap, gingerly rubbing his red bottom. I realized I was going to need to do some work to harden him. Thirty smacks shouldn’t be that painful. Of course, part of the reason for the tears was the embarrassment and humiliation of being spanked.

“Tell Daddy you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry Daddy,” he sniffed.

“Tell Daddy you won’t be bad again.”

“I won’t be bad again Daddy.”

“Good boy. Come here to Daddy and get a kiss,” I said, standing and holding my arms out to him.

He came to me and I folded him into my arms, kissing his tear-streaked face as his hard cock speared my groin. His former cruelty was beginning to hold less hurt in my memory as I re-programmed him into a submissive boy. He was really quite good looking. I just had to take care with his training. I held him close and whispered a post-hypnotic suggestion in his ear that would cause him to awaken fully as soon as he closed the office door behind him.

“Alright boy,” I said. “You can get dressed now. I’ll want to see you here again tomorrow at the same time. You will be a good boy today and stay in your apartment except for when you’re working or when your Daddy wants you. Do you understand son?”

“Yes Daddy,” he said, wiping the tears away and smiling hopefully at me.

I smiled back. “Get dressed boy and go home. I expect you to be at your station right on time. I want you to come to my apartment at 8:00 this evening. Knock on the door and I will let you in.”

“Yes Daddy. Thank you sir,” he said and turned to get his clothes on.

“Don’t forget your rings boy,” I said sternly.

“No Daddy, I won’t forget.”

I couldn’t help but watch him as he inserted the rings into his tits and cock. Maybe I’d get the proper rings for my own piercings. They certainly looked sexy. I’d have to discuss that with Patrick. Sam got his clothes on and stood there, looking at me expectantly.

“Alright boy, you can go. Remember: go to work today. Then you can come to my apartment tonight.”

“Yes Daddy. Thank you sir,” he said and bowing his head slightly, left.

Executive Stress Relief—Chapter 53

I called Patrick during my brief lunch break. I just needed to hear his voice.

“Patrick Wolfe,” he said, when he picked up his phone.

“Patrick! How are you baby?” I asked, trying to keep down the excitement in my voice.

“Mark! Great. Even better now I’m talking to you,” he said.

I could hear his grin in his voice.

“Listen,” I said. “I’ll cut to the chase: I know you need to spend time with Sarah and the kids so you do what you need to do. I’ve developed some other plans for the evening. Is that OK?” I said, trying to sound breezy.

Patrick and I hadn’t worked through an operating agreement for our relationship yet so I was treading carefully.

“Other plans? Such as?” he asked, a little edge in his voice.

“Well, to tell you the truth...”

“Always a good thing, I think.”

“Touché,” I said. “I had a session with Sam this morning and I need to do a little more work during the next few days.”

“What are you going to do with him?”

“I’m turning him into a boy. Right now, I’m his Daddy. I’ve decided I need to basically kennel him and keep him off the street.”

“Kennel him?” Patrick asked. “You mean like a dog?”

“Sort of. I don’t know that I want to turn him into a human K9 but I certainly want to turn him into a submissive so that he won’t hurt anyone else the way he did me.” The memories made me shudder.

“I guess you’re right. But what about... us? What does this mean to us?” Patrick asked. “I thought I was your boy,” he said. His voice was almost a whisper but I could hear the hurt and suspicion in it.

“Patrick, you are. What’s more important is you’re also my lover. You will always be my first boy. With Sam, it’s more of a control thing. Don’t ever think that he’ll replace you in my heart. I love you,” I said, my voice catching.

I heard him breathe a sigh of relief. “I got a little worried. I guess I’m just not sure how all this works.”

“I know,” I answered. “We’ll have to figure it out. We’ll have to work out the arrangements together with Sarah. After all, she has first dibs on you.”

Patrick chuckled. “Yes, she does. But you’re coming for dinner on Saturday, right?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for anything,” I said.

“Mark?” Patrick asked tentatively.

“Yes, my love?”

“Mark... I’ve been thinking about it and wondering... I don’t know quite how to say this.” He hesitated. “Do you think you could turn me into a top? I mean could you hypnotize me and make me able to top you?”

“What?” I asked, a little amazed at what he seemed to be asking.

“I mean I know you need it. I know you need to be fucked and dominated. Could you turn me into a top so that I could satisfy you? I feel so bad that I can’t. It hurts me. I love you and all I want is for you to be happy and I know you need it. Can I do it for you?”

I was speechless.

“Mark?”

“I-I-I don’t know,” I stammered. “I’ve never tried that. I don’t know how it would work. Let me think about it a little. It might work.”

“I mean, if you’re changing Sam into a bottom, why couldn’t you change me into a top? Isn’t it the same thing?” he pressed on hopefully.

“Well, not quite,” I said. “You see, Sam betrayed something in the way he abused me. He was savage about it. That tells me that he’s hiding something inside. He’s hiding his basic discomfort with the role of top.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s like this: my master was a complete top. He was completely comfortable with that role. He was never brutal with me. Oh he was tough; sure. But he never showed anger or brutality. He didn’t have to because he knew who and what he was. Does that make sense?”

Patrick was silent for a few moments.

“Yes, I suppose it does. What you’re saying is his anger is a reflection of his fear.”

“That’s it,” I answered.

“I understand. So you’re not really changing him; you’re showing him his true self.”

“That’s right.”

“OK,” Patrick said. “Just promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Promise me you won’t fall in love with him.”

“You got it baby,” I answered.

“You know I love you,” Patrick said.

“I know,” I said, my eyes stinging.

Only a few days before, I’d been a lonely, empty man. Now I had a family and a man who loved me. How could I be so lucky?

“I’ll talk to you later then,” Patrick said.

“I’ll call you,” I answered. “I love you Patrick.”

“I love you Doctor Andrews. Bye.”

Executive Stress Relief—Chapter 54

I finished my office hours and went to the hospital to see my patients. I was looking over a chart when I heard a familiar voice.

“Mark! How’s things?” Jannie called from down the hall.

I turned and smiled.

“Great Jannie. How’s things with you?”

“Terrific,” she said. “I have a man in ICU who’s just hanging on, a woman in hospice and two patients awaiting surgery.”

“Sounds like you’re busy. Everything else OK?”

“Yup,” she answered, looking me up and down. “You’re looking quite a bit more chipper than the last time I saw you, if you don’t mind my professional opinion. Things working out with that guy of yours?”

I grinned. “Absolutely. Couldn’t be better.”

“Coffee?” Jannie asked.

“Sure,” I said. “How about in twenty minutes? I have a patient to see and then I can take a short one.”

“Sounds good,” she said. “How about we meet back here in twenty?”

“Sounds good.”

* * *

“So are you going to tell me about what’s going on with him?” Jannie asked.

We were sitting in the doctor’s lounge with cups of coffee. Fortunately, at that point, no one else was taking a break.

“It’s hard to believe but it looks like it’s going to work out,” I started and then paused, trying to figure out where to start.

“Yes?” Jannie said, her eyes intent on my face.

“Well, he told his wife and she’s OK with it,” I said, finding that even I was somewhat amazed when I heard the words come out of my mouth.

“You’re kidding, right? She’s OK with it? How did this come about?”

“Well, I guess she always suspected he was bi. Then, after we started seeing each other and fell in love, she apparently noticed that he’d changed for the better. She wasn’t sure what was happening so she waited. She’s an amazing person.”

“Obviously,” Jannie said. “So?”

“Well we were together at that commitment ceremony in Vermont and I guess she noticed that he was distracted when he saw me. She put two and two together and came up with five or six. During the reception, she came over and introduced herself. We chatted a little bit. I guess she decided I was OK. She realized why he could love me but she didn’t say anything to him about it. Then, that night, he came to see me and we made love. It was so sweet. But the next day, it came out. He sensed that she’d awakened while he was with me and he confessed. She was angry but more that he’d left her alone at night. She also understood and told him that he shouldn’t hurt me or her or their children. She said it was OK. Can you believe it?”

Jannie just sat there for a few moments.

“It’s hard to believe,” she said finally. “But if she knows he loves her and she knows he won’t abandon her and their kids then I suppose anything is possible.”

“She’s invited me for dinner on Saturday,” I said, pausing. “I can’t quite believe it myself. I was feeling so alone. I wanted to have a family and now I do. It’s like a dream.”

Jannie took my hand.

“I’m so happy for you Mark. I’ve been worried about you all those years you were alone. You and Jess were perfect together and I’ve always known you need to be with someone. I’m glad it’s finally worked out for you.”

“Thanks Jannie. You’ve always been such a good friend.”

Jannie sat for a minute smiling to herself.

“I guess I should make a confession too,” she said, raising her eyes to look into mine. “You never realized how much I knew about what you and Jess did, did you?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, completely caught off-guard.

“I’ve never told you this: one night, Jess called me and begged me to come over right away. He’d been working you over and you’d passed out. He thought your heart had stopped because he couldn’t find a pulse. He was distraught: he was afraid you were dead. Said he couldn’t go on if he lost you.”

“Oh my god,” I said, flushing. “Did you? What was I?” I stammered.

“By the time I got there, he’d gotten you down and covered you with a blanket. Don’t worry my friend, I saw nothing; you’ve nothing to be embarrassed about. But he did tell me what he’d been doing. I found that your blood pressure had dropped and you’d fainted but that you were basically OK even though your pulse was a little weak. We got you into bed and when I was sure you would be OK, I left. I guess he never told you that I’d been there and you didn’t remember.”

“No, he didn’t... Then, all these years... you’ve known,” I gasped. I was stunned.

“Yes, I knew. Look Mark, I really don’t care what you did or what you do. I knew that you and Jess loved each other: I could see that in how worried he was. He was crying when I got there and he was crying when I left; only then it was from relief. Actually, after that, I noticed the sort of paternal attitude Jess treated you with and that was fine. I also knew that he was your world and you were his. When he died, I was heartbroken for you. I’m glad you’ve found someone else at last.”

I sat in silence for a long while. What might I have told Jannie if I’d known she knew about the true nature of my relationship with Jess? Maybe it wouldn’t have made any difference. After all, who talks about their sex lives with their colleagues anyway? But it would have been nice to know that she knew. Oh well, water under the bridge.

“So tell me one thing Mark,” she said, one eyebrow arched mischievously.

“Yes?”

“Did he shave your head?”

I flushed again.

“No,” I whispered. “It wasn’t him; it was someone else.”

“And?”

“It’s complicated but basically, we were being blackmailed by this guy. He was threatening to tell Patrick’s wife if we didn’t stop seeing each other. Then he high-jacked me. He brutalized me and made me his... his... Oh what the hell? I suppose it won’t surprise you; he made me his slave. I had to go along with it. But Patrick told me he’d tell his wife so that I could get away from this guy. Well when it all came out, we were able to tell this guy where to get off. So we’re free of him now.”

“And you and Patrick can be together?” Jannie said. “Within limits, I assume.”

“Yes, of course. We haven’t worked out the details yet but certainly he has a family and he loves his wife too. So we’ll figure out how to work things and go forward.”

“It all sounds so simple,” Jannie chuckled.

“Of course it isn’t. I know that. But what relationship is? They always take work and involve sacrifices. But when you love someone, you’re willing to do that.”

“You’re right. I just don’t think I could do it.”

“You might be surprised at what you can do when it comes down to it.”

“I suppose you’ve got me there,” she laughed gently. “Anyway, I have patients to attend to. I’m so glad we got to talk and I’m really, really glad you’re doing so much better. I was so concerned after our last encounter. You really had me worried Mark.”

“Thanks Jannie. I’ll see you later.”

“Yup. Take care of yourself Mark. And take care of Patrick.”

Executive Stress Relief—Chapter 55

I got home and prepared myself a light meal. One glass of wine would do the trick tonight: I still had some work to do. I went in to my bedroom to change. I decided to dispense with any sort of leather drag at this point. I already could control Sam so I didn’t need to do any posturing. I opted for the simple and straightforward: black jeans and tee shirt. My one accoutrement would be a pair of leather combat boots. Certainly a bit of humiliation in the form of boot licking was called for tonight. I changed and made sure everything was ready in my training room.

There was a knock on the door and I glanced at the clock. 8:00 on the dot. Good boy. I went to let him in. He was standing in the appropriate position, head bowed, feet spread, hands clasped behind his back. A very good boy!

“Sir, I’m here as you ordered,” he said, keeping his eyes on my boots.

“Good boy. Come in and strip. You can leave your clothes in the coat closet. I won’t make you strip off out in the hall unless you make me angry. Once you’ve gotten rid of your clothes, I want you on your knees and your head on my boots. Then you can ask me to give you what you need.

“Yes sir. Thank you sir,” he said and came in.

He came into my foyer, and closing the door behind him, I once again had the pleasure of watching him shed his clothing. He pulled off his shirt, folded it and then took off his shoes, socks and jeans. He put his socks in his shoes, which he set on the closet floor, placed his folded jeans on top of them and then his shirt on top of his jeans. He turned back toward me and fell on his knees. He crawled forward and, wrapping his arms around my legs, put his forehead on my boots.

“Yes boy?” I asked, waiting to see whether or not he would respond appropriately.

“Daddy, I need to be trained and disciplined. Please help me Daddy,” he groaned.

I bent and stroked his back and neck as he began licking my boots. I was murmuring calming, soothing words. He was still struggling to resist sinking into the role of a submissive boy.

“Good boy. Polish your Daddy’s boots,” I instructed and watched him lave the leather with his tongue. “It helps you to relax when you lick your Daddy’s boots.”

When I was satisfied with the job he’d done, I told him to stop.

“Good boy. Now Daddy will train you. Go into the training room and I’ll join you in a minute.”

“Yes sir. Thank you Daddy,” he whispered and crawled down the hall.

I enjoyed the site of his glutteals flexing under the skin of his ass as he crawled. He was indeed a fine specimen of manhood. I followed him down the hall and into the room. I had two goals in mind for this evening. Turning a brutal but insecure top into a submissive boy involved modifying several facets of his behavior and it was a question of the shortest path to the desired result. I’d decided how I wanted to go about it and this morning’s session had been just the start.

“Stand up boy,” I ordered.

He obeyed.

“Now bend over and grab your ankles,”

Again, he did as he was told but I could see his body trying to resist. I moved behind him, stroking his firm ass and, alternately, grabbing handfuls of flesh.

“You’re my boy aren’t you?” I asked.

“Yes sir,” he answered.

“You want to be disciplined don’t you son?” I asked, choosing the title that would remind him of his place as I pushed a finger into his anus and wiggled it around.

“Yes Daddy,” he grunted.

I slapped his butt hard and he grunted again, swaying slightly but still grasping his ankles. I hooked a finger into his anus and pulled upward, forcing him up on his toes where he swayed in his attempts to maintain his balance. After a few moments, I let him down again.

“Very well son. I agree; you need discipline. So let’s get started.”

“Thank you Daddy,” he gasped, gulping for air.

I sat down on a bench.

“Get down on the floor and crawl over here son. It’s time for your spanking,” I said, patting my lap.

Immediately, tears sprang to his eyes. I knew that the tears were the result of a post-hypnotic suggestion I’d planted in his brain that forced him to realize how greatly he was being humiliated each time I spanked him. I’d planted the idea in his mind that spanking was one of the most humiliating things that could happen to him. He was a grown man reduced to the status of a bad boy. It was almost unbearable. Not only was there the expected physical pain, but there was the degradation of having to lie across my lap and be paddled like a little boy added to the humiliation of the tears over which he had no control. Tears rolling down his cheeks, he crawled up onto my lap and laid across my legs. I made sure his dick was between my thighs and raised my arm.

“Count ‘em boy,” I ordered. “I’m giving you thirty five. You were a basket case with thirty so I realize I need to teach you to take more punishment. Thirty is beginner’s stuff.”

Smack.

He bucked when my hand hit his bare flesh, which was still pink and sore from this morning’s beating.

“One Daddy, thank you sir,” he yelped.

Smack, smack.

“Three Daddy, thank you sir,” he yelled, his voice beginning to rise in pitch.

My own hand was hurting so I knew his ass had to be smarting: the red handprints attested to that. I stopped after the first ten and bent to lick his red cheeks, which made him squirm and whimper. Then I bit down hard, leaving the marks of my teeth on his flesh and causing him to cry out. I shoved the middle finger of my left hand into his hole and corkscrewed it around, pressing against his prostate and pushing into his anus. He straightened his body so that he was like a board lying across my lap when I did that. When I pulled my finger out, he collapsed again, breathing hard.

“Next ten boy. Ready?” I asked, raising my hand.

“Yes Daddy. Thank you sir,” he whimpered.

Smack, smack.

I laid into him again as he counted off the blows with an ever-rising pitch.

Smack, smack, smack.

By the time he’d counted out the next ten, he was sobbing and his ass was the color of a candy apple.

“Now it’s time to prepare you chute for the next phase of your discipline,” I said.

I took the butt plug I’d hidden under my bench and lubed its tip. I spread his sore cheeks and he cried out. Then I pushed a greasy finger into his pucker, rubbing the lube around inside his chute. When it was adequately lubed, I put the tip of the plug against his hole and eased it in. He raised his torso and gasped as his ring of muscle was breached and stretched. I kept up a steady pressure with momentary breaks to allow his muscles to adjust to the penetration. After about three minutes, his sphincter closed around the flange of the plug, pulling the base against his rosebud and sealing his hole. He groaned and lowered his torso again, awaiting the next round of his punishment.

“OK son, fifteen more. Count them off for me like a good boy and don’t give me reason to give you any more,” I said.

“Yes Daddy. Thank you Daddy,” he said, his voice on the edge.

Smack.

“Twenty-one Sir. Thank you Daddy!”

My hand was hurting but I continued. I suppose I could have used a paddle or a belt but the humiliation of a hand-on-butt spanking is greater I think. Using an implement can cause greater pain with less discomfort for the spanker but being spanked with a bare hand always casts a bottom back to his childhood and quickly reduces him to the emotions of a boy. By the time I finished, my hand felt like it was on fire but Sam’s ass was bright, bright red and he was sobbing in pain and humiliation. He’s was blubbering about how sorry he was he’d been such a bad boy and he’d never do it again. I had him exactly where I wanted him. Some of that was, of course, the result of the post-hypnotic suggestion, which I’d used to convince him that resistance was futile.

I pushed him off my lap and he crumpled onto the floor. Then he got onto his hands and knees and displaying his flaming butt, crawled to my feet to kiss them and wet them with his tears. When I was satisfied with his contrition, I stood up.

“OK boy; time for the next bit. Stand up! Hands at your sides, feet spread,” I ordered.

He rose and assumed the position I’d demanded. I buckled a blindfold over his eyes and, pulling his mouth open, inserted a leather cock gag. Then I placed butterfly clamps on his nipples and linked the chain joining the clamps to a chain I attached to the ring through his cock. I adjusted the tension so that his cock was pointing straight up and pulling his tits down toward the floor. Then I buckled special shackles on his wrists that extended to his hands, giving him something to hold onto. I was going to suspend him and I didn’t want to be putting all the pressure on his wrists. I buckled shackles around his ankles and guided him to the place beneath my winch setup. I lowered the chains to the proper heights and snapped them onto his shackles.

I used one switch to raise the chains attached to his wrists. The chain became taut and then hoisted Sam off the ground. As he stretched and rose, he grunted from the strain. When his feet were about an inch off the ground, I switched off that winch and switched on the winch to raise the chains attached to his ankles. As his ankles rose, he tried to stay stiff and he groaned as his body began to plane upward. But gravity quickly overcame his strength and he gasped and broke at the hips so that his body began to bend double. In a few moments, he was bent completely at the hips, hanging with his feet at nearly the same height as his hands. His hole was exposed and easily accessible. I adjusted the height so that his plugged pucker was at just the right level for my cock.

Seeing my boy hanging there like that; vulnerable, smooth, blind and available, made me hard. I suppose that, in the back of my mind, part of the appeal was my own desire to be in the same place. But whatever the reason, I had a raging hard-on and a desire to be satisfied. I rolled a condom over my leaking penis and grabbed his pink butt. I pulled the plug out of his fuck chute and he squealed into the gag as the flange breached his sphincters. Then, holding onto him, I stepped backward. I released him and he swung away from me. When he swung back toward me, I gave him a slap on the butt, making him yelp in pain and swing away from me again. On the return trip, I held my cock in position so that the tip speared his hole, slapping his butt with my free hand. I got the rhythm going and found it quite arousing as his oscillating body was briefly impaled on my cock head and lurched away with my blows to his tender butt.

Finally, I decided it was time to move ahead and I grabbed his back and held him to stop his pendulum. I held him close and eased myself into his grasping hole.

“Take it boy. Take your Daddy’s cock and pull it in,” I whispered in his ear as he grasped me. “That’s it. You need it. You can’t help it. You need to be filled. Your cunt needs to be fucked. Daddy’s going to fuck his boy. You need your Daddy to fuck your hole.”

He whimpered as I slid into him and rattled the chains as he shoved his ass against my penis, seeking to gain greater purchase of his impaler.

“Oh yes,” I gasped. “You want more of Daddy in you. You need Daddy in you, don’t you boy? This is what makes you happy isn’t it? You want Daddy’s cock.”

He was nodding his head desperately, whimpering and moaning, obviously begging to be fucked and I obliged him. I began to thrust with pleasure. I reached down and took the chain joining the clamps on his tits in my mouth and pulled against it, stretching his brown nipples away from his chest and pulling on his cock, which was linked to the clamps’ chain. His whimpers rose to squeals. He was completely mine and I fucked him with abandon.

* * *

I’d released him and sent him back to his apartment with instructions to return to my office the next morning at 7:15 to continue his indoctrination. As he left my apartment and walked down the hall toward the elevator, I saw that he was walking slightly bow-legged and I felt a great satisfaction.

Later that night, lying in bed, I recognized that, in a curious way, I was fucking myself when I was fucking Sam because my own hole was aching in its emptiness, aching in its envy of his filled cunt. I had been giving Sam what I wanted for myself. I found my hand going to my anus and a finger sliding in. I grabbed my vibrator from my nightstand and pushed it into my ass. The buzz against my prostate sent me over the edge.

“Fuck,” I shouted as I came. “Fuck me. Patrick, fuck me!”

To be continued.