The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Subject: Pull Over!—Part 1

(M/M, Hypnosis, B&D)
Date: Sept. 2000

Any comments will be gladly received at

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 always remember: unprotected sex can cause HIV transmission. Always play safe.

A state trooper finds that he’s the one answering the summons.

Tooling down the highway at 85 mph around midnight, I knew exactly what I was asking for. From previous trips along this lonely stretch of highway, I knew there was a very good-looking state trooperr who was assigned to patrol this area. I’d seen him on other nights, standing beside cars he’d pulled over and every time I saw him, I felt a stirring in my groin. He was about six-one and around 180 lbs. Couldn’t tell the color of his eyes or hair, since I’d always sped past him and his current “victim”. I always had slightly mixed feelings: glad that it wasn’t me getting the ticket and envious of the lucky driver that got to talk with this officer and see him up close and personal. Of course, they probably didn’t care about that; most likely they were just pissed to have been caught speeding and being held up from getting wherever it was they were in such a hurry to get to.

But tonight, I was prepared to meet my cop and get to know him. So that’s why I was doing such a fine job of breaking the speed limit. And since there were no other cars heading in my direction, it wouldn’t be likely that my officer would pass me up for some other poor schmuck. I approached the area where I knew he liked to hang out and caught the faint glimmer of my headlights reflecting off chrome as I sped along. He was there! Sure enough, before I’d even passed him, the headlights came on, the flashers on top started to spin and he was pulling onto the highway.

I saw the flashing lights in my rearview mirror and soon I heard his voice over his loud speaker. “Please pull over. State police.” I drove along for a few more seconds with him behind me before I pulled over. After all, I didn’t want to appear too eager! I pulled out my documents and opened my window as he called in and then approached my car. The view in my rear-view mirror was already making me horny. I saw strong legs and a trim body silhouetted in the glare of his spotlight. Prime cop beef! I was going to be a happy camper.

“Good evening sir. May I please see your license, registration and insurance card.” “Of course officer. Is there a problem?” I said, handing him my papers. “Thank you sir.” As soon as he’d taken my documents, I shifted my hand around so that the special stone mounted in my ring picked up his spotlight and converted it into a perfectly-timed strobe. The moment I got the beam’s focus on his chest, I moved my hand so that the beam hit this gorgeous hunk directly in his beautiful blue eyes. He made a move to step away from my car but was held in place by the light of the flashing beam seizing control of his brain. He was now under my control and, for all intents and purposes, lost to himself. Now he was mine!

I’d been working very hard on this treasured piece of jewelry for several months now. Oh, the power of microchips. Designed to capture and focus any bright light and convert it into a pulsating strobe, it had proven to be unbeatable in rendering those subjected to its powers completely open to the wearer’s commands and suggestions. I’d tested it on a number of subjects, some willing, others not, and found that it worked every time. Of course, I had a very special subject in mind and so my work with the “test” subjects had been mostly benign, except for my last “test subject”. He was an arrogant top I’d encountered in the bars. He bragged that he’d never bottomed for anyone and never would. He was a master and anyone who didn’t like it could lick his boots. So when I thought my ring was ready for its “final test”, I sought him out. He started putting out his usual shit when I caught him in the beam of my jewel. He stopped in mid-sentence, his mouth agape. I ordered him to follow me back to my house (a split-level on a quiet street). When I got him into my downstairs room, I ordered him to strip his clothes off and grovel at my feet. Then I ordered him to shave his entire body below the neck as proof of my mastery over him. It’s important to note that my ring permits me to take a subject as deeply as I want. This lets me put them in the place of being aware of what’s being done to them and unable to resist or I can go so far as to block all pathways to their memories and turn them into a complete slave with no knowledge of anything that was before.

I wanted this one to know what was happening so I took him only to the first level. He had a dense coating of soft black hair over his well-muscled chest and a dense bush above his thick, long cock and heavy balls. I ordered him into the shower and as he stood there, running the electric razor over his chest and groin, he was whimpering, nearly crying. “Yes Sir. Please don’t make me do this. Please Sir.” But I was unmoved. I pointed out to him that his dick was starting to fill out so he must like this kind of humiliation. He shook his head as he shaved. He didn’t understand it. What he couldn’t remember, because I’d told him not to, was that I’d given him the suggestion that this kind of treatment would turn him on.

When he’d finished denuding his chest, belly and groin, I ordered him to do his pits. By now there were tears rolling down his cheeks. He raised his right arm and applied the razor. While he shaved his pits, I fondled his cock and balls. “Such a tough top you are. Big, macho stud. Never been fucked. Tell me why your dick’s so hard, boy. You like this don’t you? Big tough top!” “Please Sir,” he whimpered. “Please don’t do this to me. I’ll be better. I can behave. Please Sir.” “You bet you’ll behave boy and in a little while, you’ll find out why.” By now, he was finished with the shaver. I handed him the shaving cream and a safety razor. “Finish the job,” I ordered. Crying, he slathered the foam over his body and shaved himself clean. When he was through, I handed him a damp towel to clean the leftover foam off. I whistled. “Man, look at that hot boy,” I exclaimed and pushed the bathroom door shut. On the door was a full-length mirror that now reflected back to him his own completely naked image. His cock and balls looked huge without their heavy covering of fur. His tits looked like brown silver dollars sitting on his massive pecs. When he saw himself, he cried out, fell to his knees and shot his load, hitting the opposite wall. “Get out of the shower and lick it up. No boy’s going to make a mess in my house. Now hurry up!” He crawled out and licked up the trail of cum spewed across the floor and dribbling down the wall.

When he was finished I ordered him to stay on his hands and knees and lower his head to the floor. “Reach back and pull your ass cheeks apart. Now!” Now he was crying in earnest. “Please Sir. Please don’t. I’ll do anything. I’ll go away from here. Just please don’t fuck me.” “Shut up and take it like the boy that you are. Don’t give me any more of your whining.” With that, I shoved in the butt plug I’d lubed up, ramming it home with one push. He screamed with the pain and degradation. “Now, boy, on the count of five, you’ll sleep. One, two,” “N-n-no. Please Sir. Please don’t” “Three, you’re going deeper. Four,” “P-p-pleeeeezzzz,” he whispered drowsily. “Five. OK boy. I’m going to let you go now. You will remember who I am and you will remember that I’ve mastered you. Outwardly, you are unchanged. You will still consider yourself a top. But you will only find relief by seeking out younger men to fuck you. You will have an undeniable desire to have a man’s hard cock up your ass. You’ll beg to be fucked. And you will have to beg the man topping you to humiliate you and treat you like the scum that you know you are. You’ll beg him to allow you to come. If he says ‘no’, then it’s ‘no’. You’re not allowed to come. Do you understand boy?” “Yesss Ssssirrr. I understand. P-p-lease let me g-g-go Sssirrr.” “Very well boy. I’m going to count backwards from five to one. When I reach one, you’ll be fully awake. You’ll be released to get dressed and leave. But you’re not permitted to wear your shirt under your vest. When you leave here, you will not remember how to get here again.” “Yes Sir,” he whispered. I counted down: “Five, four, three, two one. You’re fully awake. Now get dressed and go!”

Two weeks later, I had a message on my answering machine from him. He was crying. “What did you do to me? Why? I can’t top anyone anymore. All I want is to sit on a cock and get fucked. I beg men to fuck me and humiliate me. I have to beg to come. Why? Why did you do this? Why?” I laughed. Served him right for copping such attitude.

Pull Over—Chapter 2

Now I knew that my ring was ready and I went trolling for my big catch. So, as the song says “Head out on the highway, looking for adventure.” And now I had him here in my power. “What is your name, officer?” “Conner. Roff Conner.” “Roff? Where’d that come from?” He took a moment. “Joffrey. My name’s Joffrey. When I was little, my Dad called me Roff.” “Roff, huh? OK, Roff. I want you to get back in your car. Turn off your radio and follow my car. And you will call me Sir.” “Yes Sir,” he answered, slowly. He turned and walked back to his car and got in. I drove off and watched in the rear-view mirror to see that he was following me. I had explored the area earlier and knew of a deserted road with an abandoned farm off of it. That’s where I led him.

I told him to park his car in the empty, ramshackle garage, leave the keys in the ignition and present himself to me. When he stood before me, lighted by my high-beams I began. “Hand me your wallet and your belt. Then remove your clothes and place them in the trunk of your car. As you remove each item of clothing you will become more and more relaxed and susceptible to my orders. You will want more and more to please me.” “Yes Sir,” he answered. He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and handed it to me. Next, he unbuckled his belt and handed that to me. His gun and holster were attached to it, as was the leather pouch holding his handcuffs. While I examined these items, he began to unbutton his shirt. Glancing at his ID I determined that he was 28 and apparently single. A good sign, since I didn’t’ need to have a wife calling out a posse. He pulled off his shirt and pulled his crew-neck over his head. Then he pulled off his shoes and socks and lastly, his pants. It was a cool night and he stood there shivering, his arms crossed across his chest. “Put your arms down, boy. I want to see you.” “Yes Sir,” he said and lowered his arms to his side. “Shorts too. And be quick about it.” He flushed and swallowed, so I knew he wasn’t so deep as to be beyond embarrassment. “Now!” I yelled. “Yes Sir,” he yelped and pulled his briefs down, hiding his endowment with his cupped hands. “Stand at attention!” I snapped and he straightened up, arms to his sides.

Yes, he was a magnificent specimen. Chiseled features with what would obviously have been a dense beard. He had pronounced cheek bones and deep-set eyes the color of the deep ocean. Strawberry blonde hair was cut in a buzz with just enough in front to comb straight up. He could have been straight out of one of the men’s wear catalogs. Not the pretty boy type, but the all-American male type. His body was a sight to behold. Trim, well-defined, but no gym-rat was this highway patrolman. No, he worked out alright, but not compulsively. The movement of his muscles showed beneath his tanned skin, showing strength rather than bulk. His chest had a sparse coating of reddish blonde fur over its entire expanse that glinted in the bright lights. His nips were erect but had shrunk down to small points because of the cold. I could tell that, when they were expanded, they wouldn’t be large, but the points were obviously well-developed.

I stepped closer and took his large, cut cock in my hand. His balls had pulled up as far as they could, almost disappearing into his groin because of the cold. His dick began to fill out as I massaged it. “You like this, don’t you Roff? You enjoy having me handle your cock. You enjoy it because it pleases me and you want to please me, don’t you?” Roff looked confused. He knew he wasn’t gay, and my suggestion that he wanted to please me and that showing that he enjoyed my touch would please me caused a conflict in his mind. But I had time on my side and I held all the cards, so I could afford to be patient. Besides, it was more fun this way. “Don’t you want to please me, Roff? I’m sure that’s what you want.” “Y-y-yes Sir. I do want to please you. What can I do?” “You can get hard when I want you to. That makes me happy. Don’t be afraid. You can do it. It’s OK. That will make me happy.” Roff sighed slightly and visibly relaxed. And his cock got harder in my hand. “Good. That’s good Roff. That makes me happy. That’s a good boy.” He smiled under my praise.

“Now Roff, it’s time to go. Put your hands behind your back.” When he obeyed, I cuffed him. Then I opened the trunk of my car. “Climb in boy. I’m taking you to my place.” Awkwardly, he lifted one leg and swung it inside the trunk. I enjoyed the view of his turgid cock swinging back and forth and the sight his ass muscles flexing and clenching as he moved. He knelt on the leg in the trunk and, with my assistance to help him balance, pulled the other in after him. Then he lay down. “Good boy. That makes me very happy.” He lay down on his side and I closed the trunk. Then I placed his gun and holster in the trunk of his car and locked the keys in the glove box, lastly locking the doors. No sense in having a loaded weapon laying around loose and I have an abhorrence of guns so I didn’t want it around my house. Then I closed the rickety garage door and drove away.

Pull Over—Chapter 3

I drove around for a while, going on different roads so as to throw any possible observers off the scent. When I was reasonably satisfied that it would prove very difficult to link my car with the disappearance of Patrolman Conner, I headed for home. I pulled into my garage and closed the door behind me. Then I opened the trunk. Conner blinked his eyes in the light, looking like he might have slept during my wanderings. “Come on. Time to get out.” I reached in and took his well-muscled arm, helping him to climb out—no easy task. He was definitely “built” and his trim figure belied his weight He was probably closer to 195 than the 180 I’d originally guessed, and it was all muscle. He stood unsteadily on the floor, his sense of balance thrown off by having lain in the dark trunk of a car as it moved around corners and up and down highways. “Thank you Sir,” he said quietly as I steadied him. “OK. Let’s go boy. Follow me.” I led him through the garage and into the room off to the side. I live in a house with the garage under the house. The storage room beside the garage made a perfect place for keeping a slave. There were no windows and the only door opened into the garage. Next to the door was a stairway that led upstairs to the main living quarters. I had had a bathroom built into the room with a toilet and a shower. This seemed essential to maintaining a boy with maximum convenience. The room was furnished with a cot, cabinets, a specially designed rack and a couple of winches with cables running up the wall, through pulleys hanging from the ceiling.

“This is to be your room while you stay here. This is where you’ll stay when you’re not serving me. You want to serve me, don’t you Roff?” He looked around the room with a puzzled look on his face. “You want to make me happy don’t you boy?” “Yes Sir. I want to make you happy.” “It will make me happy if you serve me. So you want to serve me don’t you?” “I want to make you happy.” “I will be happy if you serve me. Tell me what will make me happy.” “It will make you happy if I serve you.” “And you want to make me happy, don’t you?” “Yes Sir. I want to make you happy.” “So you want to serve me, don’t you?” “Y-y-yes Sir. I want to serve you to make you happy.” His deep voice was soft in his confusion. “Good boy. It makes me happy that you want to serve me.” He still looked a little shell-shocked, as though he were trying to put the pieces of his memory together with his current reality. I had to be careful with this process because, while I could have forced him to do whatever I wanted whether he wanted it or not, it was so much more satisfying to convince him logically that what I wanted was what he wanted.

I gazed at him for a few moments, feasting my eyes on this magnificent specimen of manhood. He was beginning to warm up and his balls were becoming a bit bolder, descending out of their hiding-place in his abdomen. They were a fine pair, the size of golf balls, enveloped in a dark sack covered with the same sparse dark blond hair as coated his chest. I smiled at him and he tentatively smiled back. “Now, again, tell me what you want to do boy,” I suggested firmly. “I want to please you Sir.” “Why?” “Because it will make you happy Sir and I want to make you happy?” “Why do you want to make me happy?” I hadn’t given any suggestion to him about this, but wanted to see what rationalization his mind had come up with for trying to please me. “I-I-I. I want to make you happy because.” He paused for a long moment. I just waited. “Because I don’t know anything else to do.” Good; the trance was having its desired affect. I’d succeeded in dissociating him from memories, filling in the blank space with myself as the center of his universe. I could take this as far as I wanted, to the extent of permanently erasing his memory, reducing him to a complete slave. I could also have turned him completely queer, making him interested only in men. But I wasn’t interested in doing that to him; at least not at the moment. It was more fun, at some level, to leave his straightness intact and seduce him into acts that he would never have done otherwise; and which he would be aware, at some level, that he would never have done. That’s really messing with a guy’s mind! And, at some point, I’d undo the programming and turn him back loose in the world, after insuring that he’d never be able to take revenge on me.

“Good boy,” I said. “I’m glad you see my proper role and your place in the world. I’m very pleased.” He brightened at my pleasure. “Now kneel on the floor boy.” His hands were still cuffed behind his back and it proved a challenge for him to kneel without hurting himself. But he finally managed, in a clumsy fashion. Oh well, he’d get better at it as time went by. I went behind him and unlocked the cuffs, noticing that his hands were deeply colored from lack of circulation. He swung his arms forward and rubbed his wrists where the cuffs had dug in. “Thank you Sir,” he said. “Stay there boy. Eyes to the floor. Don’t move,” I ordered and he fixed his eyes on the floor.

I pulled down my fly and extracted my heavy dick from my shorts. I’m pretty-well hung, even if I do say so myself. I’ve gotten a lot of compliments over the years on the size of my endowment. Flaccid, I’m about seven inches long and cut. When I’m erect, it grows to about nine inches in length and about an inch and three-quarters in diameter. My balls are proportional to my dick; heavy and low-hanging. Did I mention that I’m pretty-well built myself? I work out regularly and have good definition. My hair is dark brown and I have a nice coat of hair on my chest and running in a line down my belly before it flares out at my bush. I’ve been assiduous in working my tits, so the points stick out of the fur on my chest like pencil erasers. I’ve been told that I’m handsome with my dark, commanding eyes and strong features.

“Look at my cock, boy!” I commanded. He raised his blue eyes and fixed them on the head of my swelling dick. Dominating a man was becoming a major turn-on for me and my cock had already responded to the work I’d done so far. I held my penis with my hand so that the beams of my ring played into his wide-open eyes. “Now listen carefully. You are my servant. You desire only to obey and please me. Repeat it back to me.” “I am your servant. I desire only to obey and please you.” “You are my slave. Say it!” “I am your slave.” “You are my slave.” “I am you slave.” “You want to serve me.” “I am your slave. I only want to serve you.” Good. He was putting the pieces together himself now and not just parroting me. “Good boy. I’m pleased. Now listen closely. My desire is that you provide me comfort. My desire is that you give me your body to use as I wish. You are not gay; you are straight. But you want to give me your body for my pleasure. And you will enjoy giving me pleasure. Say it to me.” He hesitated for a moment. I knew he needed time to assimilate and internalize what I was telling him so I didn’t push him. In a few moments, he spoke. “I-I-I,” he stammered. “Yes boy, say it to me!” I demanded. “I want to give you my body for your pleasure. It will give me pleasure to give you pleasure.” “Your body is no longer your own.” “My body is no longer my own.” “This body”, I said, grabbing his tit, “Belongs to me, your Master.” “This body belongs to you, my Master.” “Whose body is this?” I demanded, twisting his erect nipple. “It’s your body Master. It belongs to you.” “Good boy,” I praised him, rubbing the top of his head. “Very good boy. I’m very pleased. You’ve made me very happy.” “Thank you Sir,” he answered quietly.

“Now listen again. As my slave, there are things that are expected of you. Do not forget any of them, or you will be punished. In addition to keeping your face shaved, you will keep this body shaved below the neck. You may keep the hair on your head as long as you please me. If you make me angry, I’ll make you shave your head as well. Do you understand?” “Y-y-yes Sir,” he answered, his entire body blushing. “I will keep my body shaved.” “Good boy. You’ll keep your body shaved because your Master likes his boy to be smooth. It makes me happy when you’re smooth. And you do want to be my boy, don’t you?” “Yes Sir. I want to be your boy and I want to make you happy. It makes you happy when I’m smooth.” “Good. You will also keep your butt hole clean and lubed for my use. I will provide you with the necessary items. Do you understand?” “Yes Sir. I will keep my butt hole clean and lubed at all times for your use.” “I also expect you to wear a butt plug at all times to keep you stretched. We will get you larger ones as you become accustomed to them. You will be naked at all times, when you’re in my house.”

“Now climb in the shower boy. It’s time for your maintenance.” He rose to his feet and stepped into the shower. I turned on the cold water and he shivered and shouted when the cold blast hit him. “Hold still and be quiet,” I ordered and he clenched his teeth shut in an effort to obey. But his entire body shuddered in the chilly stream. I turned the water off and ordered him to face me. He turned to me, but before he crossed his arms over his chest in an effort to warm up, I could see that his nipples had shrunk to tight points. “Arms at your side. Feet apart,” I barked and he immediately obeyed. I took a can of shaving foam and began to lather the front of his magnificent body. I rubbed the foam on his chest and belly, then into his wiry bush. I lifted his cock and coated it to, as well as his heavy balls. Actually, I had to pull them down because they’d again sought refuge from the cold up next to his groin. He grunted as I pulled and held them down while I spread the foam over them. “Now, shave yourself, and I don’t want any stubble. I’ll whip you if you’re not completely clean!” “Yes Sir,” he answered and, blushing again, put the blade to his chest.

I knew this would be the beginning of the final descent into slavery for him. It was one thing to hear the words and then say them with your own mouth. It was quite another to strip yourself of your manhood, debase yourself by giving yourself an enema in front of another man and insert a butt-plug where nothing had ever gone before. By the end of the evening, Police Officer Roff Conner would be no more. In his place would be “boy”, “slave” or “pig”. And the collar around his neck would be his badge of rank, rather than the badge he’d worn on his chest. He didn’t know, but I had something else in mind for his chest. But that would be another day.

He hesitated, the blade poised at the base of his neck. “Now!” I barked. He flinched and pulled the blade straight down through the shaving foam, leaving a sweep of clean skin in its wake. Tears welled up in his eyes as he continued scraping away the foam and hair from his chest. When he’d shaved the foam from his chest and pecs, he ran his hands over himself, feeling for stubble. He used the razor on a couple of spots until he appeared satisfied that he was smooth. Then he removed the foam from his belly, taking the line of hair with it. He checked again for stubble and stopped. He looked up at me now, tears spilling down his cheeks. “Please Sir. Please don’t make me do this.” he whimpered. “What did I tell you boy?” “That it would make you happy to have me smooth, Sir.” “And what’s the only thing you want boy?” “T-t-to make you h-h-happy Sir. But do I have to do this?” “Will it make me happy?” “Yes Sir. It will.” He implored with his eyes but I merely stared at him. Finally he looked down and set the razor against his bush.

He shaved away the last remnant of his manhood with ever bolder strokes. As I knew, once he’d taken that last step, the rest was easy. His mind had given over to me as his Master. He no longer had a will to resist me. He finished shaving his bush and then bent forward, waiting for me to lather his ass. I applied the foam and told him to finish up. Carefully, he cleaned the hair from between his legs and squatted to remove the hair surrounding his pink hole. Finally, it was over and he stood before me for my inspection. “You’ve forgotten something,” I said. “Sir?” he questioned. “Your pits. You’ve forgotten to shave your pits. My boy must be completely smooth below the neck. You can leave your legs; I don’t care about that, but from ass to neck, you’ll be smooth.” “Yes Sir,” he snapped out and raised each arm in turn for me to apply shaving foam to his surprisingly hairy pits. Then he shaved each arm pit and checked for leftovers. Finally and at last, he was finished.

Pull Over—Chapter 4

I ran my hands over his entire torso, searching for stray hairs. He’d done a thorough job. “I’m pleased boy. You’ve done a good job. Now rinse off and come stand in front of the toilet.” “Yes Sir,” he responded and turned on the shower. As he rinsed, I prepared his first enema. I added some chemicals to it that would complete my takeover of my cop-slave’s psyche; well, if not his psyche, at least his control. There’s an interesting link between a man’s sexual response and his view of himself and his self-worth and I was going to exploit that link in a moment.

He stepped out of the shower and I threw him a small towel. “I don’t want you dripping all over the floor. Dry yourself and get over here!” “Yes Sir,” he rapped out and quickly dried himself (as best he could with the little thing I gave him) and hurried to stand before me in front of the toilet. His denuded pubes made his large cock look even larger without its covering of fur. I’m sure my eyes dilated as I took in his magnificence. “Now boy, I’m going to clean you out. As I said, I expect you to be clean at all times and ready for my use. Your shitter has only two purposes in life: elimination and my pleasure. Is that clear?” “Yes Sir.” “Yes Sir, what?” I demanded. “Yes Sir. Thank you Sir.” “That’s better,” I said, and smacked his ass. “Now turn around, bend over and put your hands on the toilet!” “Yes Sir,” he snapped and did as I ordered. In this case, the toilet had no seat. I didn’t want him to feel that he had any of the comforts of home here. No point in having him forget his place. So he placed his hands on the rim and craned his neck to watch what I was doing.

I dipped the tip on the end of the tube in KY and slipped it between his cheeks. “Open up,” I ordered. “Yes Sir,” he whispered and struggled to comply. As the plastic tip slid in, he broke out in a sweat and grunted. I’d hung the bag from the rod for the shower curtain and, once the tip was seated, I released the clamp on the hose and squeezed the bag, pushing the contents into his gut. As the contents flowed in, I reached around him and rubbed his belly, assisting the liquid to flow into all the corners of his bowels. “Good boy,” I cooed, as I rubbed.. “That’s my good boy. My boy likes his enema, doesn’t he?” “Yes Sir. Thank you Sir,” he groaned, as his belly became distended. And that wasn’t the only thing becoming larger. His erect dick slammed up against the back of my hand on his belly, depositing globs of pre-cum. “Yes, my boy does like this doesn’t he? Oh yes, he likes it a lot.” And I took his erection in my hand, squeezing it and pulling on it. “Yes Sir,” he keened out as his cock started to throb. “Don’t you dare come boy. Only when I let you. Do you understand boy?” “Yes Sir. Please Sir. I want to come so bad. Please Sir,” he whined. “No, not yet boy. Not till I tell you. Now be a good boy. Make me happy. And it does make me happy to know that you like this... I thought you were a straight boy. What happened boy?” “I-I-I don’t know Sir.” Now I really had him. He didn’t know that he was erect because of the chemicals I’d put in the enema. But, as I said, give a man an erection and he’ll draw a connection, even where there isn’t one. Like they say, if you want to really mess with a guy’s mind just say to him: “Keep on thinking you’re not gay.” He’ll wonder the rest of his life!

I’d emptied the bag now and continued to massage his belly, letting my hand stray to his magnificent smooth cock and balls every now and then. I also let my hands wander up to his smooth pecs and played with his nipples. Each time I did, he shuddered and whimpered. His gut was cramping in earnest now, pulling groans out of his mouth. “P-p-please S-s-sir. P-p-please. I c-c-can’t hold it any m-m-more. P-p-please.” he whimpered, dropping his head between his supporting arms. “Uuuunnnhhh,” he moaned loudly, his knees nearly buckling. “OK boy. Turn around and sit on the stool and release it.” “Thank you Sir,” he groaned as he turned, and lowered himself onto the cold porcelain rim of the toilet. As soon as his ass hit the rim, he bent double and released the fluid, filling the bathroom with the sounds of groans, rushing water, noisy wet farting and a pungent odor. “Thank you Sir,” he gasped as the enema was ejected from his hole. When he’d finished I ordered him to rise from the toilet and bend to grab his ankles. Then, grabbing an ass-cheek I pulled his back against my legs and wiped his ass. His entire body blushed at the touch of my hands on his ass. No one had wiped his butt for him since he was a little boy and his sense of humiliation was deep.

I refilled the bag and we repeated the process. “Hopefully, this one comes out clean. No boy of mine is going to have a smelly pussy. Do you understand boy?” I said, slapping his ass. “Yes Sir. Can’t be smelly. Thank you Sir,” he whimpered as he turned to place his hands on the rim once again. I administered another round and, after permitting him to release it, wiped his ass again. He flushed again, the sense of humiliation no less than before. But his dick was hard as a rock. This time, after he was dry, I ordered him to turn his back to me and to once again grab his ankles. This time, however, I inserted two greased fingers in his ass. He gave a yell at the intrusion and I slapped his ass and ordered him to shut up. “Your ass is mine now, and if I put something in there, you’ll be happy for it. Is that clear?” “Y-y-yes S-s-sir,” he hissed as I wiggled my fingers in his chute. When I was satisfied he was loose enough, I took a mall butt-plug, greased the shaft and pushed it in. Then, while holding it in with my leg, I wrapped a heavy belt around his waist and buckled it in the back. A strap punctured by a cock-ring hung down from to the front of the belt. I pushed first one ball, then the other through the ring and lastly crammed his hard dick through the hole. Then I pulled the strap back and buckled it in place in the back. The butt-plug was effectively strapped in. “Good boy,” I said, slapping his butt again. “Thank you Sir,” he gasped through the fire in his hole. He wasn’t used to being penetrated yet, but he soon would be.

Now it was time to introduce my trooper to his new “uniform”. “The only thing you will be permitted to wear in the house is this.” And with that, I pulled out a heavy leather collar that I buckled around his neck. I locked it in place with a small padlock. He lifted his hands and felt the collar as tears welled up in his eyes. My trooper-slave knelt before me on the floor and wept, believing this was his lot in life, hating his place in the world, but knowing no other world in which to live. “You will feel humiliated by all these things, but you have no knowledge of any other way to live. And even more humiliating to you will be this: your debasements will excite you and keep your cock hard. Do you understand me boy?” “Yes Sir,” he whispered, almost inaudibly. And his cock lifted and smacked against his abdomen, leaving a blob of pre-cum.

Then I produced the last piece of his “uniform”: a CB2000 cock cage. I pulled his balls and then his cock through the first plastic ring, making sure it was securely seated. Next, I wrapped a leather ball-stretcher around his sack and snapped it in place, pushing his balls way down and making them look like opalescent grapes in a bag. Then I took the cage ring, pushed it over his cock, slid it over the guide pins and locked it in place with a small padlock. “That’s to remind you that your cock and balls are mine and no longer yours. I’ll use them as I please from now on.” “Yes Sir. Thank you Sir.” The nice thing about this cock cage was that he’d have no problem pissing, but it would prevent him from touching himself.

Then I led him to his cot and tied him to it. I pulled ropes around his ankles and tied them to the edge of the bed. I used cords to pull his arms over the edge of the narrow cot and tied them to the legs at the top of the cot, spread-eagling him. Next, I tied a rope to the D-ring on the ball-stretcher around his balls and pulled them toward the foot of the bed, tying them to the bottom rail, stretching them away from his body. He grunted as I tied the rope off. I took rubber suction cups and, licking them applied them to his newly denuded tits. His cock was raging now and I’ll never forget the look of lust and confusion in his eyes. He wanted it so bad but he knew he wasn’t supposed to. What had happened to him? He couldn’t understand. But by the time I was through with him, he would have permanently larger tits: enlarged and pointed; a real man’s tits: tits that were hard-wired into his cock. And he’d have a cock that automatically got hard at the sight of a man.

I switched on a little spotlight that I’d installed over his bed and once again, I shone the beams from my ring in his eyes. “You belong to me. You are my slave.” “I am you slave. I belong to you,” he murmured. “My pleasure is your pleasure. My desire is your desire.” “Your pleasure is my pleasure. Your desire is my desire.” “Your purpose is to make me happy.” “My purpose is to make you happy.” “Your cock is hard for me.” “My cock is hard for you.” “Your body belongs to me.” “My body belongs to you.” “You are my slave.” “I am your slave.” “You are my slave.” “I am your slave.” “Good boy. Tell me what you are.” “I am your slave.” “What do you want?” “To make you happy Sir. To give you my body.” “Very good boy.” I was very pleased. “Thank you Sir.” I looked down on my new slave and my mouth watered. Muscles rippling beneath freshly shaved skin, cock rigid and leaking, my cop slave awaited my orders.

How long would I keep him like this? Would I tire of having this handsome cop-slave under my control? I realized then that I might decide to keep him permanently. But then part of the fun was putting him under my control and then releasing him back into the world to live with a nagging sense that he wasn’t the independent man he’d heretofore thought himself to be. Oh, when I let him go, I’d hide the memories of his experience from him, but I’d leave the dreams in place that would haunt his sleep, making him sit up in bed in the middle of the night, breathing hard, a sense of emptiness teasing his ass and his cock hard as a rock.

To be continued.