The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Milk Bar—Chapter 57

Harry came up on the stage and took Mr. Carrothers’ hand, raising it high in the air. “Gentlemen, the winner. He has earned the privilege of using whichever man-cow he chooses for the rest of the evening at no additional charge. Sir, name your servant.” Carrothers beamed, flushed with pride and the thrill of a conquest and an incredible orgasm. “Thank you Harry,” he said, “but I need to complete the binding of my new slave to his Master. I will need no other service but his for the rest of the evening. But I want this man-cow,” and with that he turned and motioned toward Greg, “to assist me in the completion of my slave’s induction into slavery.” Greg gulped and stood staring for a moment until Harry answered for him: “Of course Sir. Our slaves are at your service in whatever capacity you require. He will provide whatever assistance you require.” Then Harry turned back to the audience and began exhorting them to make use of the Milk Bar’s services and man-cows to satisfy their every need. One of the other handlers, Sam, came up and wrapped Greg’s collar around his neck and buckled it. At the touch of the leather on his skin, Greg assumed the first position, head bowed, legs spread, arms clasped behind his back.

“Get him down boy,” Carrothers ordered and Greg, jolted back to reality, quickly gathered his wits. “Yes Sir,” he mumbled and went to begin releasing Farrington. He freed his hands from the shackles binding them to his legs and helped him to straighten up. “Lean against the pipe while I get your legs loose,” he instructed. Farrington obediently bent and held onto the pipe while Greg hopped down off the platform and unlocked the stocks holding his legs. “OK,” he said, reaching up to put his hand to Farrington’s back to steady him. “Ease back. That’s it.” Farrington backed up a little, straightened up, swayed and fell backward into Greg’s waiting arms. Greg eased him to the floor and he sank down on his hands and knees. Carrothers spoke to him sharply “Come boy. Get over here to your Master!” The new slave crawled across the floor and placed his head on his Master’s feet. Chas Winslow placed a leather collar in Carrothers’ outstretched hand and Carrothers bent to wrap it around his slave’s neck and buckle it into place. “When I release you to go home to your family, I’ll be giving you a fine chain collar to wear. It’s less obvious than a leather collar but its presence and weight will remind you constantly that you belong to me.” “Yes Sir. Thank You Sir,” Farrington murmured, hanging his head. Carrothers turned to Greg. “Down boy!” he ordered and Greg fell to the floor beside Farrington. Winslow snapped leashes onto the two slave’s collars and they all moved off the stage toward one of the private rooms the slaves following Carrothers at a trot.

They went into the room; the two slaves crawling behind Master Carrothers followed by Chas Winslow. Winslow removed the leashes from the slaves’ collars and left, closing the door behind him. Carrothers, his huge cock lolling out from his body like a stiff sausage, sat back on a chair, spreading his legs, putting his hands behind his head. “Now,” he said to Greg, “You’re going to assist me in completing the binding of my slave. So you’re permitted to stand so that you can follow my orders.” Greg rose to his feet and assumed first position. “Yes Sir. Thank You Sir,” he said, eyes on the floor. Now Carrothers looked down at Farrington, on all fours, head hanging. “Get yourself over here and get on my dick, slave!” he barked. “Yes Sir,” Farrington answered and scrambled across the floor. He started to take his Master’s hard cock in his hands to maneuver it into his mouth. “No hands bitch! Don’t you dare touch my dick with anything but your mouth or your ass unless I give you specific permission dickhead.” “Yes Sir. I’m sorry Sir,” Farrington blurted out and, placing his hands behind his back, leaned forward to impale himself on his Master’s flesh. He stretched his jaws wide and managed to get it inside his mouth. “And don’t let me feel your teeth or you may lose them!” Carrothers snapped. Farrington carefully eased himself down on his Master’s cock, doing his utmost to keep his mouth open and keep his teeth away from the pole spreading his jaws. “Now listen and listen well. These are my rules for you. If you forget any of them, you’ll be punished. I don’t repeat myself for a slave. You will show proper respect for your Master at all times. You will not speak unless you’re asked a direct question. The only appropriate responses to direct questions are ‘Yes Sir, No Sir or No excuse Sir,” unless your Master asks for a specific answer such as when you’re required to count punishment strokes. You will obey immediately and unquestioningly every order given to you. You will eventually learn to anticipate your Master’s needs and satisfy them before he has to make them known to you. You will kneel whenever you’re in your Master’s presence unless he specifically gives you other orders. Your body is no longer yours; it is my property. Therefore, you will not jack off unless I give you orders. You will come only when I give you permission. Your cock is mine; your balls are mine, your tits are mine, your ass is mine, your mouth is mine. All of you belongs to me to do with as I please. I know you’re married and have a family and I will do nothing to invade that space. If you still have sex with your wife, you are permitted to continue that. But you will think of me when you do and be grateful for my generosity. You will keep your slave body shaved at all times. I require my slaves to be smooth or keep themselves neat, depending on my pleasure. Since you are my new slave, I require you to be smooth. You will shave your body every day. If I ever find stubble or hair, you will be punished. I also require that you keep your ass clean, lubed and open. I will give you a butt-plug that you will be required to wear at all times. You may remove it to shit of course and to administer your enemas, but then and only then. I will punish you when you make a mistake and I will also punish you just because I feel like it: that is my prerogative as your Master. If all that is clear, you may nod your head.” Farrington’s head bobbed up and down, adding to the slurping, sucking noises as he sucked his Master’s dick and acknowledged that he’d heard and understood his rules to live by. “Good boy,” Carrothers smiled. “I knew you were a quick one.”

“Now tell me the truth boy. Does your wife ever see you naked? You may stop worshipping my cock to answer.” Farrington slid back off of his Master’s wet cock, sucking as he went, unhappy to have his mouth empty of his Master’s flesh. “No Sir,” he answered, eyes on the huge, glistening pole of flesh bobbing in front of him. “We no longer bathe together and when we have sex, the lights are off.” “And how often do you have sex with her?” Carrothers asked. “Usually just once a week Sir. Sunday nights. It’s become something of a ritual for us.” “Is she at all aware of your need for domination?” “Yes Sir, to some extent, Sir. And she indulges me. She’ll tie me to the bed and gag me and then mount me. We both are satisfied that way.” “I see,” Carrothers said, looking at his new slave critically. There was more to this man than he’d thought. But that would just make it all the more interesting to train and own him. After studying him for several moments, Carrothers sat up. “Good,” he exclaimed. “So now I know where to start with your training.” Looking at Greg, he ordered “Get him strung up on the chains. I want to have full access to his body.” “Yes Sir,” Greg answered and bent to help Farrington to his feet.

Greg positioned Farrington in the middle of the room and then went to the wall switches and used one to lower chains with shackles on the ends to slightly higher then head-level. He buckled the shackles around Farrington’s wrists. Then he moved plates in the floor on either side of the slave and revealed heavy-gauge hooks. Taking a pair of shackles from the collection of implements hanging on the wall, he shackled Farrington’s ankles and hooked the chains on the shackles to the hooks forcing the slave to spread his legs a little farther than was comfortable for him. Finally, he went back to the switch and raised the overhead chains, stretching Farrington tight and forcing him up onto the balls of his feet. Greg turned to Carrothers, head down, eyes on the floor. “Is that satisfactory Sir?” Carrothers walked around his slave, testing the tension on his arms and legs, grabbing his cock and pulling his hips forward to determine how much play there was. “That will be fine boy.” “Yes Sir. Thank You Sir,” Greg answered smartly. He knew better than to ask if there was anything else he could do: he was at Carrothers’ disposal and all he had to do was issue and order and Greg would immediately obey. It would have been entirely inappropriate for Greg to offer.

“Call the Pumper in. Tell him I want to do my new slave,” Carrothers commanded. “Yes Sir,” Greg answered and went to the phone. He’d figured that was in the cards for tonight. As he spoke on the phone, Carrothers continued circling his slave and began his examination. Even with his back to them, Greg could tell what was happening. He heard the sound of hands meeting flesh and then the boy’s groans and whimpers as his Master felt into the depths of his musculature, kneading his muscles, separating them from one another and pulling them from the bones. Greg shivered involuntarily as his body recalled the torture he himself had been subjected to by Carrothers on the earlier night. He hung up and turned back to the room. Carrothers was standing face to face with Farrington but held his boy’s body up against his own. The slave was moaning in pleasure at the feel of his Master’s hairy body pressed against his own denuded flesh. Then Carrothers lifted his right hand and landed a hard blow to Farrington’s butt. The slave grunted as the pain shot through his ass and his body slammed into his Master’s. Again and again Carrothers spanked his slave until his moans and grunts turned to cries and then to sobs. His ass was turning bright pink and tears streamed down his cheeks. Then there was a knock at the door and the spanking stopped. Carrothers leaned back, looked into his slave’s face and with his thumb, brushed away his tears. “Good boy,” he murmured. “That’s my good boy.” Then he released him. Farrington sagged as much as the chains would allow him, his head hanging down.

“Come in,” Carrothers said loudly and the Pumper came into the room, wheeling his cart. “Yes sir,” he said. “Get him prepped. Just use a snakebite because I’m going to be beating him and I don’t want the device coming off. I’ll call you when I’m ready. I have my own ring.” “Yes Sir,” the Pumper answered. “May I see the ring Sir? I want to be sure he’s prepped correctly.” “Get the ring boy,” Carrothers ordered Greg. “It’s in my ight pants pocket.” “Yes Sir,” Greg answered and went to where Carrothers’ pants lay on the counter. He reached into the pocket and found a ten gauge gold ring and took it to Carrothers who handed it to the Pumper, who examined it and looked closely at Farrington’s right nipple. “This will be fine sir. We should have no problem. Give me just a moment and I’ll be out of your way.” He handed the ring back to Carrothers who held it out for Greg who took it and placed it on the counter. Farrington seemed to be oblivious to what was going on. He was conscious of little but the burn emanating from his ass cheeks. The Pumper took a snakebite suction cup from his cart and held it up to the slave’s mouth. “Stick out your tongue, boy!” he ordered and Farrington complied. The Pumper wet the suction cup on the proffered tongue and applied it to the slave’s nipple. He checked for a good seal and, after waiting a couple of seconds, squeezed the cup again to increase the suction. “That’s it sir. Just call me when you’re ready.” “I’ll do that,” Carrothers smirked and the Pumper wheeled his cart out of the room, closing the door behind him.

The Milk Bar—Chapter 58

Carrothers stood in front of his slave, fists on his hips, legs spread, surveying his property. “Well boy, I think it’s time to give you your first taste of what it will be like to be my slave. Are you ready boy?” “Yes Sir. Thank You Sir,” Farrington said. “Good boy,” smiled Carrothers and moved behind the suspended slave. “Get me a flogger,” he ordered Greg, “and put a cock gag in his mouth. I want a medium butt plug in his ass. Then get a set of clamps and clamp his left tit. Clamp the other one onto the skin behind the head of his cock. Use the alligator clamps with the teeth. Then blindfold him.”

Greg hurried to follow the Master’s orders. He fetched a butt plug and lubed it. Then, taking some extra lube in his fingers, he moved behind Farrington. He wrapped an arm around his waist, pulled his hips back as far as the chains would allow and pushed the lube up into the slave’s ass chute. Then he pushed in one, two and then three fingers. “Squeeze hard,” he whispered. “It’ll help to loosen you up.” He felt Farrington’s sphincter clenching his fingers as he moved them in and out. When he was satisfied, he pulled his hand out. He placed the tip of the plug against Farrington’s hole. “Push,” he instructed and, as the boy’s rosebud puckered outward, he slowly pushed the plug in. Farrington moaned and grunted as his hole was stretched by the invasion. Then, as the widest part pushed past his sphincter, he cried out from the pain that felt like his ass was being torn open. But in a brief second, he felt the flange lodge against his hole. Somehow, it had gotten in there. He breathed deeply for several breaths, waiting for the pain to ebb. Just as he was recovering from that, Greg was in front of him, pulling his jaw open. “C’mon. Open up.” He dropped his jaw and a leather gag penetrated his mouth, pressing his tongue down and stretching his mouth wide. The taste of the leather was intoxicating and he began to tongue the gag as best he could to get more of the taste into his taste buds. Greg snapped the gag in back of his head and patted his cheek. Next, he wrapped a blindfold around the slave’s head and buckled it on tightly. Then he moved to the implement wall and took down a couple of items. He returned to the stuffed, gagged slave who felt his left nipple suddenly pinched and pinched hard. He shouted into the gag but the shout turned into a scream as teeth bit fiercely into his trapped tit. Pain shot through his chest life a shot and radiated down his spine to his dick. Then in a matter of seconds, he felt his dick being handled and a similar, but worse pain reverberated back up his spine and crashed into his head. He began to thrash, pulling against the chains and wailing in his agony. But then he felt a hand around his waist and his Master once again pressed his body against the tortured boy. “Calm down boy. Calm down. Breathe for me. Breathe for your Master,” and Farrington heard and tried to obey. And the pain began to become bearable. “That’s it. That’s a good boy. Good slave. Keep breathing. That’s it. It’s going to get worse before it gets better. But in the end, you’ll be bound to me forever. You want that, don’t you boy?” “Uh uh,” garbled Farrington, nodding his head in the affirmative as he tried to push his body into his Master’s body and the tears streamed down his face. “That’s my good boy; I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me,” Carrothers said, pulling his slave’s butt up against his cock so that his dick pushed against the plug in the boy’s butt. Greg began to wonder if he hadn’t been mistaken about Carrothers after all; he certainly seemed to care about his slave, even if he was hard on him. He watched in amazement and found is cock leaking as Carrothers nuzzled his crying boy’s neck and whispered in his ear and he remembered what his own Master had done to him. Farrington kept uttering unintelligible sounds and pushing himself against his Master’s body, apparently begging for more.

At last, Carrothers reached his hand up under Farrington’s stretched arm and took his boy’s face in his hand turning it to the side. He kissed his cheek and then slapped it firmly a couple of times. “OK boy. It’s time to begin. I have you gagged because I want you to feel the pain while your boy mouth is filled as well as your ass. So I’m not going to ask you to count the blows. Your friend there will count them for you. It’ll be fifty blows and then it will be over and you will belong to me, body and soul. OK. Let’s go.” Carrothers stepped back and picked up the flogger, taking a couple of practice swings. “Count boy,” he ordered Greg, pulled back his arm and swung. The first blow landed on Farrington’s already pink butt. “One Sir. Thank You Sir,” Greg shouted as Farrington howled into the gag. The beating continued, blow after blow as bright red welts began to flare up on Farrington’s back and ass. Fortunately, Carrothers was an expert and moved the whip around so that it never landed in the same spot twice in a row and preventing the skin from being broken. Farrington seemed to be caught up in one long, agonized scream as the blows continued to fall. His muscles flexed with each blow, making a play of shadows across his body. Tears streamed down his face from beneath the blindfold. But his cock was standing straight out from his groin and pre-cum was squirting out the tip with each stroke of the lash. Greg winced with each count and his choked voice betrayed his sympathy for the tortured slave. “Forty-five Sir. Thank You Sir. Forty-six Sir. Thank You Sir...". Finally, it was over. Sweating like a horse, Carrothers put down the flogger. Once again, he wrapped his arms around his slave and roughly pulled him to his body. Farrington howled an almost voiceless howl into the gag, his throat was so raw from screaming. “Lower him a little boy and call the Pumper. Tell him it’s time,” Carrothers ordered Greg. “Yes Sir,” Greg responded, moving the switch to lower the chains. “Enough!” barked Carrothers and held his sagging slave against his body. He began kissing him and whispering to him as Farrington moaned and whimpered in pain.

In a few moments, there was a knock at the door and the Pumper entered the room with his cart. “He’s ready,” Carrothers said. “Yes sir,” the Pumper answered and pulled open one of the drawers on his cart. He pulled out a needle and tore open a prep swap. “Bring me the ring boy,” he ordered Greg who scrambled to obey and placed the ring in the Pumper’s outstretched hand. The Pumper removed the snakebite from Farrington’s right tit with a plop, revealing a distended, dark red cone a half an inch high. He swabbed the nipple with the prep swab and then instructed Carrothers “Hold him tight, sir,” he said and Carrothers braced himself, clasping his slave to his body. Although he could see only the Pumper’s back, Greg knew the instant the needle pierced Farrington’s flesh because he went rigid and uttered another almost voiceless howl. Carrothers was stroking his face and shushing him. In a few seconds, Farrington jerked again and then sagged. Needle had gone through nipple. Another strangled cry and Greg knew that the ring had been pushed through the fresh piercing. There were a few more moans and whimpers from the new slave and the Pumper stepped away. A large gold ring now adorned Farrington’s chest. It was a smaller twin to the ring that hung from Carrothers’ left nipple. “Good boy, that’s my good boy,” Carrothers was murmuring, supporting his slave and stroking his wet face. “Come here and release him,” Carrothers ordered and Greg hurried to respond. He removed the blindfold, making Farrington blink and squint closed his swollen eyes. The gag came out and the slave moved his stiff jaw to ease the strained muscles and joints. Greg unbuckled the shackles on Farrington’s wrists and his arms fell to his sides. Then Greg knelt and released his ankles. Carrothers eased him to the floor where he lay in a heap while Carrothers went to get a towel to wipe his own face and chest. Then he turned back towards his slave. “Come to me slave!” he ordered. Farrington raised his head and then eased himself onto his hands and knees, trying to keep his butt and back from touching the floor. When he’d gotten himself situated, he crawled slowly and agonizingly across the floor to his Master. His entire body hurt but all he wanted was to be near his Master and touch him if he could. His Master had taken him and possessed him wholly and his only desire was to please the man who now claimed him.

Farrington reached his Master and grabbed his legs, placing his head on Carrothers’ feet. “Master,” was all he said. Carrothers stood looking down at him, smiling. Then he stooped and gathered him into his arms and lifted him. Greg was slightly amazed at his strength. He’d underestimated Carrothers in a lot of ways. He was every inch a Master. Carrothers, holding his new slave in his arms, looked at Greg. “Come with me. We’re going to wash my slave.” “Yes Sir,” Greg answered with greater respect and opened the door for him, bowing his head as the Master passed. They went down the hall to a room with a large tub that was for use by the Milk Bar’s customers. “Run a bath of lukewarm for him,” Carrothers ordered and Greg did as he was told. As the tub was filling, Carrothers sat, holding his slave on his lap, stroking his face and murmuring in his ear. “The bath is ready Sir,” Greg said and Carrothers rose, lifting his slave and placed him slowly into the water. Farrington cried out when his skin touched the water and then he sighed as the water began to absorb the pain from his skin. “Turn on the jets boy,” Carrothers ordered and the water began to froth and foam around Farrington’s aching body.

Carrothers crouched at the edge of the tub, rubbing his boy’s shoulders, neck and ears, talking to him quietly with Farrington responding with frequent “Yes Sirs”. Carrothers was expert in binding a slave to himself and he was deepening his new boy’s dependence on and obedience to his Master, speaking dominating, comforting words to his submissive mind.

The Milk Bar—Chapter 59

Greg had helped Farrington out of the tub and dried him. He helped the slave lube and insert a brand-new butt-plug, showing him how to get it in. He’d be wearing one at all times from now on and he had to know what to do to get it in. When he’d managed to get the plug in, Carrothers called him: “Come here boy!” Quickly, Farrington went to his Master and fell to his knees in the proper position. Carrothers removed the leather collar from his neck. Then he produced a chrome chain choker and lowered it over his slave’s head. “This is your ‘everyday’ collar, boy. You will wear it at all times unless I remove it, is that clear?” “Yes Sir. Thank You Sir,” Farrington answered, reaching up to run his fingers over his new mark of ownership. Then Greg fetched Farrington’s clothes and helped him to painfully dress. Carrothers had ascertained that Farrington was alone for the weekend as he frequently was now that his wife had a new grandchild to visit, and had left, taking his new slave home with him for the night. Greg imagined that Farrington could count on having his sore ass fucked again by his Master and could see the eagerness shining in the slave’s eyes as he went home with him, lost in adoration, albeit moving slowly and gingerly.

The action at the Milk Bar was tapering off for the night as customers departed and man-cows went about straightening up. Greg sought out Blake and Frank who were showering downstairs. “Hey guys! Any plans? Want to grab something to eat and have a drink before heading home?” Greg shouted over the running water. The two cops looked at him and smiled. “No, thanks,” Blake said. “We’re both really tired and we’re going to go to my place for a quick bite and then to bed.” “OK,” Greg said, smiling. He could see Frank’s eyes shining as he looked at Blake and Blake, returning his look beamed into his lover’s eyes. Blake reached out and stroked Frank’s cheek. “I can see when I’m not welcomed,” Greg laughed and went back to get cleaned up himself.

A short while later, the three cops stood at the exit, Blake and Frank’s arms wrapped around each other. “G’night you guys. Have fun!” Greg said and, waving, turned to head for the subway to head uptown to his Master’s. His path took him past some abandoned buildings and a couple of dark streets. As he walked across town and past one dark alley, he heard a noise that brought him to a sudden halt. He heard another noise from the alley and, feeling uneasy, moved toward it to investigate. It was inky black and he strained his eyes to see into the darkness as he moved out of the light, the hair on the back of his neck pricking up. He sensed more than saw a recessed doorway on his left and then, too late, sensed a presence in the doorway. He turned with a start. “Who?” he blurted out. “Milkman,” a voice said and Greg’s mind turned as black as the alleyway.