The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

This sucks, you think to yourself. Everyone else left ages ago. Why am I still stuck here at the theatre? You know you’re almost done, but it still bugs you that no one stayed to help.

You hear a noise behind you. Maybe someone did come back to help? You turn but don’t see anyone.

You shrug and go back to what you were doing when a hand covers your mouth, and you hear a strange noise at about the same time you feel a slight pain in your side. It’s all happening fast.

Someone leans into your ear and harshly whispers, “Do as I say, or the next zap will be much more painful.”

You hear the noise again, but this time you can see the stun gun in front of you. He whispers, “I set it at the lowest setting, just to get your attention. Now I’m setting it to its highest.”

He adjusts it and presses the button. You hear a much stronger sound and see a bright flash of light pass between the two prongs of the stun gun.

“Don’t make me use it on you again or you’ll be sorry.” His voice is gruff; no more than a harsh whisper really, and you find it menacing.

Your eyes are wide as you stare at the stun gun in his hand and try to wrench out of his grasp.

He jerks your body back into his. “Let’s get out of these stage lights.”

He shoves you forward, directing you down the stairs from the stage to the first row of seats.

You try your best to stay calm. You’ve heard all the stories: if you panic you won’t be able to talk your way out of this. You see the bandana as he swoops it over your eyes, and then you see nothing as the blindfold is secured in place.

He pushes you into a seat, quickly tying your hands behind you and your feet to the bottom of the chairs.

You’re now blindfolded and tied to a chair in the first row of the theater. Not sure what’s going on, you first think he’s here to rob the place. A bit of panic sets in as you realize there’s nothing here worth taking and he might be upset when he realizes that. Theatres rarely make money, and even if they do, none of it is kept around after hours.

You can sense he’s near, but it still startles you when he leans over and says, “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back in a bit.”

You can hear him walk up the aisle. You struggle against the ropes, but he’s done a good job tying them. You’re not getting out, until or unless he unties you. Don’t go anywhere, you think. Fuck you!

You strain to hear what’s going on, and wonder how long you will be left like this.

Suddenly you hear the telltale sounds of the house lights going off. Then silence.

A few minutes later you can sense someone is near. He’s back and now he’s tugging at your t-shirt. You feel the cold metal as a pair of scissors makes short work of it, and it is soon gone. Next you feel him unbuttoning your shorts, and lifting your butt off the chair. The shorts are down at your ankles, as are your underwear. Now you’re naked, with your sneakers on. One at a time, your feet are untied, your shorts and briefs are slipped off, and then your ankles are retied in place. One sneaker and sock is removed, but the other is left on.

You are bound, blindfolded, naked except for one sock and sneaker, and tied to a chair in the theater by some strange guy.

He leans in again and says, “You know, there’s no one here but you and me. Time for some fun.”

“Listen,” you say, forcing your voice to sound calm and even. “The others will be back any minute. If you just untie me and take off now I won’t even call the police.”

“You won’t be calling the police. Unless you think we need handcuffs…” Your captor laughs and something about his laugh seems vaguely familiar. Do you know him?

He leans in really close to you and you can feel his breath on your face. “You and I both know nobody is coming back here tonight. We’ve got the whole place to ourselves. All night.”

All night? He plans to hold you here tied up all night? You feel your cock stir but you can’t worry about it now.

“Just let me go. Please?” You’re still trying to seem brave, but the crack in your voice betrays you.

“I’ll let you go,” he says. “Eventually.”

You open your mouth to protest and he stuffs something in it. Almost immediately you realize your sock has been stuffed in your mouth. You can taste the sweat on it as he wraps tape around your head to secure the sock.

You still aren’t sure who the mystery guy is, but he seems to know a lot about your schedule...knew you would be here, knew you usually stay and handle last minute things alone.

And, apparently he knew how to get you hard.

You’re almost embarrassed when you realize that despite your fear, your cock is stiff.

It wasn’t that you stopped being worried, it was just you were starting to enjoy this predicament. Well, your cock was. And on a purely physical level it was hot. Besides there wasn’t much you could do at the moment to change things even if you wanted to.

But you had to remember, this was not an arranged bondage meet, and as much as you would have enjoyed it if it was, you were tied up against your will by someone who had still not identified himself.

Just then you feel your captor’s hand on your shoulder as he leans in close to your ear. “So, I see you like being blindfolded, gagged and tied up. I knew you would. I haven’t decided if we’ll stay here, or if I’ll take you back to my place. For right now, I’ll just let you sit there and enjoy your helplessness, but first let me adjust these tit clamps.”

You strain against the ropes at your wrists and ankles but you can’t get away. You feel the pinch as the teeth of the clamps close on your nipples. He tightens them, just a bit, not too painful, and actually in other circumstances it might have felt rather good. Your cock, unfortunately, was still operating under its own mind and the sensations at your nipples was only making you harder.

Time passed. You could sense he was in the room, but couldn’t see, hear or touch him. He was right; you do like bondage. You could stay this way for hours. But you worry what his other plans might include.

Can’t wait to see what they are, you find yourself thinking. Then you chastise yourself.

I can’t believe this is happening to me. You test the ropes for the umpteenth time, but you know you’re not going to be able to get loose. Between the blindfold and the gag you’re completely at this mystery guy’s mercy. As anxious as that makes you, you’re sure he can also see that you’re finding this exciting. Your cock feels rock hard.

There’s a dull ache in your nipples from the clamps he tightens at odd intervals. It hurts, but not terribly.

You know he’s not too far away—you can hear the rustle of his clothing from time to time. You’re not sure what he’s doing or what he’s preparing to do to you next, but really you have no option but to sit here and wait for it.

You only hope whatever it is happens soon. The waiting is getting to you. You steel yourself as he approaches again. You refuse to even whimper as he tightens the clamps again.

He pats your cheek. “Either you’ve done this before or you have a high tolerance for pain. Or maybe you like the pain.” He laughs. “I wonder what’s going on in your mind right now…”

You pull at the ropes. You refuse to resign to this fate, but you’ve begun to sweat with the effort. You lean back in the chair. Tiring yourself out like this is useless. Just wait for your moment.

Then it hits you: part of the control game is to see how you handle just sitting there and waiting. If you were the one doing the tying you would use this same strategy. You want to kick yourself for being so dumb.

Your common sense is returning to you. You’re no longer letting the fear cloud your judgment. He wants to know what’s going on in your mind? You realize he may be in control now but you have experience he must know nothing about.

He leans over and says, “You’re here all alone with me. There’s no one here to help, and no one to hear you scream with that gag, so just enjoy yourself.” You feel him stroke your cock—just once. “I see you already are.”

He unties you from the chair and leads you back onstage.

He steers you forward and to the left. You realize you must be in the wings stage right. You do an inventory in your mind. Stage right there was no scenery currently. The fly bar was here.

As he secures metal cuffs to your ankles you realize he must be chaining you to that very bar. He unties your hands from behind your back and attaches a chained cuff to each wrist.

You hear him walk to a fly on your left and pull down. Your left arm is pulled taught above your head. He locks it off then moves to your right and repeats the process.

You’re now tied in a very tight standing spread-eagle.

You were wrong to think you didn’t need to be afraid. Your heart is pounding in your chest. You’re unable to move.

“We’re going to do some more endurance testing and training. You’ve already done very well with the nipple clamps. Now, we’ll add some more equipment.”

You feel him tugging at your scrotum and it only takes a minute for you to realize he is attaching a ball parachute.

Then he starts adding weights.

You can feel sweat running down your forehead. You want to scream.

He does stop before the pain is unbearable. You silently thank heaven for that.

Then he tightens the clamps some more.

Fuck! You want to yell at him but your mouth is so dry from the sock in it that you know you would be unable to be understood.

“You’re making excellent progress, tonight. I believe you’ll make an excellent slave boy.”

Fear grips you. It’s hard for you to breathe for several moments. Slave boy? Hell, no.

“Will make a good slave boy...” The phrase echoes in your head over and over. You’re still not sure who this man is who has you so completely under his control, but hearing him utter that phrase almost under his breath has both frightened you and sent a charge through you. And then you realize you don’t know if you’re more frightened that he wants to make you his slave boy or that the idea is strangely erotic.

I’m nobody’s slave boy. In fact, I like to be the one pulling the strings most of the time. But as whoever he is pulled the chains tighter around your wrists and ankles, stretching you out spread-eagled, you realize that he could very well end up trying to make you his slave boy.

He said something about this being a test. A test of your will? Or of your abilities? It doesn’t matter. You decide at that moment that you can pass this test. Big talk from somebody who can’t move or speak.

You can feel a trickle of sweat run down your chest. You let out a moan, but it’s muffled by the gag in your mouth. He’s adding weights to your balls. Fuck! Between that and the nipple clamps your head is starting to swim. You’re on sensory overload here. How are you supposed to get loose or find out who he is?

You stand there feeling totally helpless, and yet ready to explode. What other fiendish tests does this guy have in mind?

He leans into your ear. “I know you must have many questions, and I promise I will answer all—well, maybe all of them—before we’re done. Right now, we have work to do.” On goes some more weight, and tighter go the clamps.

He pulls your cock down between your legs, and lets it go. It slaps your belly as it comes back up.

“I see you’re still enjoying this. I hope that continues.”

He pulls your cock down and lets it go several more times. You begin to moan louder. You need him to stop.

“It’s time for your first test, boy. And this is the most important test of all. No matter what happens, and no matter how long we’re here, you CAN NOT shoot. I can’t tell you how important that is. You may only shoot with my permission. This is so important that I think some motivation is required. If you shoot, I will untie you and put you outside the theater TOTALLY naked. Or, I will tie you up here on stage, TOTALLY naked and leave you here for the others in the show to find. I don’t want to do this, and I’m sure you can pass this test. Right?”

What the fuck? you think. You’re pretty good at controlling your body, but if he keeps teasing your cock like this you may not be able to prevent yourself from coming. A new wave of fear washes over your body. Just the idea of being left here until the company returns tomorrow is enough to make you flush. You can only imagine the total humiliation. How could you ever show your face here again at the theatre if that happened?

You realize he’s waiting for an answer from you. The muffled “yeth” that comes through the gag is barely intelligible.

“Good, boy,” he says.

After he adds more weight and tightens the clamps some more he takes a step closer to you until your naked body is touching his clothed one. And he starts tickling you.

This time you do scream into the sock gag. You thrash about, desperate to escape his fingers. But every time you move the weights on your cock swing, causing some extra pull. You try to stop moving but can’t.

He pays a lot of attention to your sides. You fleetingly realize it’s what you would do. Most guys are very ticklish there.

He stops and you try to catch your breath. This is what you would do if you were tickling someone, you realize. Is it possible he is someone you’ve talked to about this?

Before you can consider this he begins tickling you again and though you focus your self control on not moving you find that you can’t think of anything but the sensations overpowering your body and mind.

You struggle and squirm, trying to avoid his fingertips while he proceeds to tickle you. The weight on your balls is swinging as you move and while your cock could probably burst at this point, he’s told you your first test is to keep from shooting. If he keeps this up you don’t know if you can hold out, but damn it you’re going to try.

Hell, with tests like these, if you pass you’re sure the prize will be an interesting one.

He told you you must have permission to shoot. You bite into the gag just thinking about it. You’re not really used to needing permission to do what you want. Then again with the position you’re currently in you don’t have a lot of options other than to follow his instructions.

And he did call you a “good boy” which for some reason pushes your buttons when he says it with that sexy rasp in his voice.

“I bet you never expected to be on stage like this,” he says in your ear as you pant, trying to catch your breath.

He’s right.

As you feel him attach something around your neck you realize he’s put some sort of collar on you.

He laughs throatily. “You’re going to like the props and costumes in this production.”

He places his hand over your taped mouth and presses the gag harder into your flesh. “Since this is our first time together like this I don’t want to bring you over the edge accidentally. Until I get a good reading of you, here’s an offer. If you feel yourself getting too close, give me an SOS grunt: long short long. I may or may not stop what I’m doing, and if I think you’re pulling my chain I’ll ignore it or increase the intensity of what I’m doing. Got it?”

Son of a bitch! you think, but all you can do is nod your head. Now he’s toying with you, you realize. He’s given you a safe word of sorts, but then told you he may not listen if you use it.

Time seems to creep by at a snail’s pace as you wait to see whether he will tickle or caress you. Your cock and nipples ache. You’re blindfolded, gagged, and you’re wearing a collar and tied spread-eagle. No matter how much your mind races you can think of no way to free yourself.

He’s kept you blindfolded and gagged for quite awhile now. You wonder how long has actually passed. It might just seem longer since you’ve been helpless and in the dark since just after he got here.

“I think it’s time I give you another position,” he announces. He removes the weights from your balls and you want to sigh with relief. Next he removes the nipple clamps, then slowly he removes the chains from your ankles and then from your wrists, massaging the blood and feeling back into your extremities. You tingle with pins and needles.

He snaps something onto the front of the collar and when he tugs you forward you realize he has you on a leash.

Again, you have no choice but to go with the flow. Since you’re gagged and blindfolded there’s not much you can do. You can guess that if you reach for the blindfold he’ll either jolt you with that stun gun or restrain your hands again.

You count your footsteps and realize you must be nearly center stage. He gently pushes you down so you’re sitting on something soft. In seconds you realize it’s the edge of a bed.

“Hold your arms out in front of you, please.” You feel him pull sleeves over your arms. And it takes a moment before he wraps the sleeves around you for you to realize he is locking you in a straitjacket. As he fastens the straps into place you realize what he meant by props and costumes.

It makes you a little anxious to be confined like this and you can hear your pulse pounding in your ears. Next he pulls you up the bed and locks on leather ankle restraints. By the time you realize what he’s been doing your ankles are strapped to a spreader bar and you’re bound to the bed.

You are tied there completely unable to free yourself.

And your cock is hard.

“Now the fun begins ...” he says, again with a laugh.

You feel him begin to tickle your bare foot. You struggle, but the jacket and spreader bar are secure. Your cock is still leaking and you suddenly feel embarrassed at your situation. You can feel your ears and cheeks growing warm.

Weight shifts on the bed and you sense from the heat of his body that he is lying beside you. You feel his fingertips brush your cheek.

“You’re blushing,” he says, a hint of surprise in his voice. “I know this is all new to you. Your tests aren’t over yet, but so far you’ve been a good slave boy.”

He gets off the bed and walks away. When he returns you feel him wrapping rope around your cock. He pulls it down tightly and after removing your remaining sneaker ties it to your big toes. Then he starts tickling your feet again, this time mercilessly. As you try to pull your feet from his reach you keep tugging on your own cock.

The sensations are incredible and you can feel that you’re ready to blow. You try to give his SOS groan, but can’t remember exactly what it was.

He seems to sense you’re too close and he backs off. “I know you’re ready,” he says. “But you only shoot when you have permission from me.”

You lie there trying to think of anything that will keep you from shooting. You’re going to beat his tests. You can do this. You just wish he’d take out the gag. You’re thirsty and have a million questions you’d like answered, but you’d settle for just one or two.

He lets you rest a bit. You’re grateful for the chance to catch your breath and hold off shooting.

He unties you enough so you can sit up, still tied to the spreader bar, and props you up.

“We’ve been playing for a few hours so far,” he tells you. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions. But first let me give you something to drink.” He laughs softly. “With that blindfold still on I could give you anything and you’d lap it up like a good boy, wouldn’t you?”

There’s a knot in your stomach as you realize he really could dump anything into your mouth if he wanted to.

He removes the gag, the tape tearing a bit at your cheeks, then pulling the soaked and wadded up sock out. You have cottonmouth, literally. He holds a bottle to your lips and you slurp greedily.

Thankfully it is cold water.

“Time for a new game, boy. Here’s how it works: you can ask me anything you want, but I will only answer those questions that I feel like right now. Be careful what you ask, once you ask something I don’t feel like answering, no more questions.You decide what to ask. But we need to give you something else to distract you.”

He’s not playing fair at all is all you can think now that he’s outlined the next set of rules. You can hardly decide what to ask first, since he’s said if you ask something he doesn’t want to answer you don’t get to ask anymore.

He pulls you over onto your side, and your entire body tenses as he slides a well-lubed butt plug inside you. Then he attaches something to your rock hard cock.

Almost immediately you notice a very low charge as it begins flowing from the butt plug and cockring.

You moan in spite of yourself. FUCK! He has an electro unit.

That water was much appreciated though. You wonder if he’ll go easier on you if you’re polite.

“Thank you for the drink, sir,” you say, trying to ignore the tingling coming from the electrodes he’s attached to your cock and ass. You’re not going to be able to hold out for too long if he keeps this up. You idly wonder if he’s realized that you’ve been trained before?

“Okay, ask away.” And he laughs again.

Somehow you know if you ask directly who he is he’ll gag you again. You’re not stupid. You need some clues! “Have we met before?”

“Yes,” he replies, and you feel a small surge from the device he’s hooked you to. So that’s how it is. He’s going to turn it up every time you ask a question. Fuck. You have to make every question count.

“How long are you going to keep me here?”

The surging builds a little more. You know your cock is leaking a steady stream, but you can’t stop yourself.

“I haven’t decided.” There’s a teasing quality to his voice as he adds, “I may just keep you as my slave boy.”

“I’m nobody’s slave!” You reply without thinking. The currents shooting through you increase again. You shudder involuntarily and moan.

You have to keep yourself under control. You can do this. You focus on your breathing and the things you can still control. You don’t want to find out what happens if you fail his tests.

You wrack your brain but can’t figure out why you recognize his voice. He’s been talking softly and you know now that you’re blindfolded so you won’t see him and know your captor.

With the rate he’s increasing the electricity you figure you can only stand one more question. You grit your teeth and ask, “Why me?”

He turns off the electro for the moment. You’re so grateful you nearly cry with relief. You try to catch your breath.

Suddenly he pulls out the butt plug, only to replace it with one a bit longer and fatter. “Why not you?” He slaps your ass.

You yelp in surprise.

“But seriously, we’ve been chatting online about this for weeks. You just never knew that not only am I closer than I let on, but I’m also involved with the play with you. But I’ve let out too much information, so no more questions from you. I do have one for you, and you’d better answer truthfully. Have you ever had training like this before? And, if so what was it and how long ago?

That’s two questions, you think. But you’re in no position to split hairs. Chatting online? Realization sinks in and you know exactly who he is. But he’s right--you didn’t know he’s in the play. You wonder what else he’s been keeping a secret.

He twists the butt plug a few turns, pushes you back onto your back on the bed, reties you down and turns on the electricity.

He asked if you’ve had training before. He wants the truth. The truth is relative. ”Yes,” you pant. “In college.”

Oh. My. God. Your head is spinning. You’re trying to concentrate on what you’d talked about online and figure out what else he might do to you, but between being bound to this bed and the electric current he’s switched back on you’re having a hard time thinking of anything but shooting.

It’s just mind over matter, you reason with yourself. You have to show you can withstand all that he tries. If you can, maybe he’ll let you go.

Then the thought creeps into your mind that makes you moan loudly: What if you don’t want him to let you go?

Don’t be ridiculous! You argue with yourself. When you get out of this you’re going to make him think this was child’s play. And then you realize you have a goal. You’re going to pass his test, win this round, and then turn the tables on him.

You laugh at the idea.

“What are you laughing about?” he asks.

You don’t reply. That’s something you won’t tell him. Not now, at any rate.

“Won’t talk?” he says, and then you hear him laugh. “Okay. You may regret that when you can’t.”

You open your mouth to protest and he shoves your sock back in your mouth, securing the gag back in place with a length of rope tied behind your head.

Fuck!

At least you thought it was your sock... But something doesn’t seem right. Tastes different...

Feels different too... Fuck!

He shoved his jock strap in your mouth.

“It seems that you didn’t answer my questions. So now it’s time for some fun.”

He turns off the electric current, unties the spreader bar, and unties you from the bed.

“Thirsty?”

You nod yes.

“Okay, here you go.” He pours some water onto the jock. “If you want to drink you’ll have to suck it out of your gag. That’s not coming off for a while. No need, since you don’t answer questions.”

You did too answer his question! Yes, you were vague, but he didn’t really say he wanted details! And you’re not sure you want to give them anyway. Granted he’s holding the cards right now, but at some point you’re going to be able to get away. At least you hope so.

He pours a little more water on. If you truly want to drink you’re going to have to work at it and get a good taste of his jockstrap. It’s so evil it’s almost hot.

Your throat is so dry you actually do suck the water through his jock. You can taste his sweat mixed with the water and feel at once violated to be forced to suck his jock like this and yet aroused by the total domination he’s been showing over you. You’re not normally submissive, but he certainly has a way of making you do what he wants.

Once you’ve gotten the feeling back into your legs, he helps you stand and the two of you walk over to stage left.

“Stop. Kneel down right there.”

He helps you to your knees and attaches a short chain to the ankle cuffs.

You silently thank God when he begins to unfasten the straitjacket. You flex your arms a bit.

“Make a fist and hold out your hands,” he commands.

You dutifully obey. What choice do you have?

“Good, boy.”

He locks fist mitts over each of your hands. The sense of helplessness washes over you once again. You are truly at his mercy.

“Okay, now get down on your hands and knees.”

He attaches a chain from your wrists to your ankles.

Next he places some sort of device around your cock, which is throbbing but no longer leaking, thanks to the short break he has given you. You feel him lock something behind your knees. What the hell is he doing?

He makes a big production of snapping the leash back on the collar.

“Now, DO NOT look up. You look at the floor or straight ahead.”

Finally he removes the blindfold. You wince at the light. It takes a lot of self-control to keep yourself from whirling your head around and discovering his identity. You just know if you do he will blindfold you again. Or worse.

He’s forbidden you to look up, so you look down at yourself. Your ankles are chained together, your hands are balled up in fist mitts that he’s actually padlocked to your wrists, and you can’t even believe the last part. He said he had props and costumes, but you had no idea just how much gear he has. He actually locked a humbler on your balls. You’ve seen them, but you’ve never actually worn one. It’s like he’s planned out and thought of everything. You couldn’t stand up if you wanted to now.

The thought of his total control sends a shiver through your body as your cock drips a bit more.

“Okay,” he says, “you may look around if you wish.”

You really want to see who he is and are relieved when he gives you permission. Fuck! He’s already getting inside your head. Now you’re waiting for his permission. You don’t need it!!

But you do. Right now you’re trapped on all fours without the use of your hands, with a jock stuffed in your mouth and a leash attached to your collar. You may as well be his dog at this point. You have no choice but to follow his commands.

You turn around to look at him. But your disappointment is mixed with anger as you realize yet again he is in control. He stands there wearing an executioner’s hood. You can’t really see his face, but somehow you’re sure he’s grinning at the fact he’s one-upped you. You’re not blindfolded anymore, but you still can’t see him.

You let your eyes travel to his hand, and then down the leash, and the idea sinks in.

“Yes, my pet. Time for some exercise.” He gives a jerk to the leash and commands sharply, “Heel!”

He jogs forward across the stage and you realize you have no choice but to try to keep up on all fours. You crawl as quickly as you can, trying to keep up with him. He stops center stage and jerks the leash.

“Time to teach you a few tricks,” he says. ”I wonder if you know how to sit or roll over.” Suddenly he laughs. “I bet you know how to beg.”

Obviously you know what the standard doggie tricks are that are performed. This must be another test to see how well you can reproduce them.

He spends the next ten minutes or so running you through a series of commands: Sit -- down on you knees, arms straight in front. Down -- down on your stomach. Beg -- down on your knees, arms bent at the elbows, hands near your neck. Roll over -- obvious...down on your stomach and roll completely over.

He has you sit, and then fastens the blindfold over your eyes again. He unlocks the humbler and removes it.

“Good boy. Time to move on. Stand up.”

Apparently you’ve passed the dog test, is all you can think when he lets you stand up. You’re blindfolded again unfortunately, but he has taken that humbler thing off and you can stand, so you’re closer to freedom.

He leads you back over to the bed. After taking care to strap you in an incredibly tight spread eagle, he leaves you to lie there for a bit.

You test the bonds, but you’re not going anywhere. The ropes he tied to the leather cuffs at your wrists and ankles are pulled taut. You can’t move at all--your wrists and ankles are spread as far as he could get them.

Suddenly you smell aloe. He begins to smear something on your chest. Lotion? Cream. Shaving cream!

You struggle and buck but you’re unable to move. You try to thrash about on the bed and get loose, but he’s made that impossible.

Fuck! He’s going to shave your chest. What will everyone say when we practice the shirtless scene in Act Two?

As if on cue, he leans over and says “Yes, I know you’re wondering about the play... well that’s your problem. Slave boys don’t have body hair.”

FUCK ME! you think. You can probably find a way to explain the shaved chest, but as he begins spreading shaving cream down your legs you know you’re completely vulnerable.

You want to scream as he begins at your neck and starts shaving down your entire body. Chest, belly, arms, legs, feet. He teases your cock then removes every last hair from your balls.

He unties you and flips you over, then shaves your back and ass, then down your legs.

“Look at you. A completely smooth slave boy.”

Your breath catches as you realize he’s making you over into his slave boy. You can’t remember ever feeling so exposed. Or so powerless.

And what really stops you from screaming is how utterly erotic this feeling is. Your cock is still as hard as it can get.

He again slaps your ass and it stings.

He unties you but keeps you blindfolded. He flips you back over and strokes your chest, teasing your nipples. His skin on yours feels strange without any hair.

“Time for the next costume change.”

He leads you forward. You stumble, blindfolded as you are, but he guides you and secures you into something...a sleepsack? Then he straps you down to a table. You’re completely encased now from the neck down, hairless, gagged with his soggy jock, and blindfolded. Could you be any more trapped?

Fuck! You could. He just put some heavy duty earphones in your ears. The static coming through them is blocking out all sound. White noise?

Minutes pass. You can’t see him or hear him. You can’t even sense him. What if he’s left you here like this? It must be the middle of the night. Nobody will find you until evening. You take a deep breath. He wouldn’t do that to you. No Master would do that to his slave.

His slave? Fuck!

You have completely lost track of time when you feel a zipper open over your cock. How long has it been? Minutes? Hours? It’s impossible to tell. You can’t see, hear, or feel anything. You had never tried anything along the lines of sensory deprivation before. But that’s what this is.

You seem to recall his voice in your head, but you can’t remember what he was saying. You can’t remember much of anything.

Your cock is granite hard. He carefully teases you, just brushing his fingers over the piss slit.

You groan and he stops. You begin to wonder if you’ll ever be allowed to cum.

He undoes the sleepsack and takes you out. He removes the gag, but admonishes, “I am taking it out because your jaw could use a rest, NOT so you can speak. One word and I’ll put in a ball gag.”

He cuffs your hands behind your back and walks you around in a circle. You’re not sure where you are now. You feel groggy and disoriented. You simply want him to tell you what to do.

He helps you climb inside something. With your bare foot you gather that it is made of some sort of cool metal. A garbage can? No. The janitor’s sink?

“This is a special contraption I like to use for training good slave boys,” he says.

Your heart jumps at the mention of the word slave. It sounds so right to you.

“It’s a metal tub with an adjustable bar.” He leans you against what feels like a sheet of cool metal. He fastens your wrist cuffs over your head to the top of the platform. He then secures your ankles together at the bottom.

“Good slave boys need to be clean inside and out.”

Inside and out? Oh, fuck. Your senses are returning. “But--” you stop yourself. You want to protest, but you realize too late that he’s going to gag you again for speaking without permission.

He slips the ballgag into place immediately. Dammit, you feel so stupid. You were without a gag for what? Two minutes? You swallow hard.

“Here’s how this works: I fill you up and you hold it until I say you may release it. Do you understand?”

“Yeth, Thir,” you answer around the ball gag. Did you just call him Sir? Of course you did. That’s how a good slave boy addresses his Master. Wait. What?

“Good, boy.”

You smile around the ballgag. You feel so proud to be his good boy.

He pushes your stretch out arms back and your feet rise up in the air, almost like a seesaw. Once your ass is elevated, he inserts an enema tube. He starts the flow and you can feel the bag empty into you. He removes the nozzle before lowering the ramp, so when you expel it goes down the drain.

Your cock is standing straight up. You try desperately to find a way to hold it all in, but he’s pumped you so full of fluid you don’t think you can possibly do what you’re told. You try to look in his eyes, pleading and begging with your own.

“Hold it!” is all he says.

You’re sweating now, and the air feels cool on your shaved body. You writhe around on the table, trying to hold everything in, trying to get loose from the restraints; trying to catch his eye and get the permission you so desperately need now. But he doesn’t give it to you.

And then you fail for the first time that night. You apologize, but with the ballgag it just sounds like gibberish. “’m thorry Thir.”

“You just need more practice,” he pronounces. He tips your head down, feet up, to pump you full again.

You concentrate on your breathing and try to get in a zone, but you can’t hold it long enough to get permission. You disobey him again. Again he pumps you full. You really think you can make it this time, but for the third time you fail him.

You want so much to pass his tests and please him. Please him? What are you thinking? He’s strapped you to a table and is forcing you to do things you would never do. You don’t want to please him! You want to get away!

But he did seem almost proud of you that you didn’t shoot no matter what he did to you. And you do love it when he calls you a good boy.

“Boy, you will need to learn to obey your Master,” he tells you. “Now you will be punished.”

Punished? What does he call all of this? You feel like all he’s doing now is punishing you. Why is he punishing you? You’ve tried to be a good boy and do only what he’s told you. Yes, you spoke without permission, but it was an accident. You could be good. If he’d just take this gag out and let you speak to him.

He cleans you up, takes you off the metal contraption, then straps you over a padded wooden horse. With your ass up in the air you realize there are only two possibilities now. He’s going to fuck you or beat you.

The sting of the slap on your ass tells you which he’s decided. You scrunch your eyes shut and grit your teeth. You won’t make a sound. You know if you do he’ll just spank you harder. You stand there silently, taking the paddling, trying not to whimper. You’re a good boy.

He stops and backs away from you. ”I’m impressed that you took your punishment like a good boy. There’s hope for you yet.”

Pride floods through you after the compliment from your Master. You are a good boy.

Then he reaches down and pulls on your cock. You’re not as hard as you were with the spanking and all, but he strokes you and fondles your balls until your cock is standing at attention again.

He walks around the horse and frees your hands. He also removes the blindfold. You stand, balancing against the horse, your ankles still locked into place.

You swipe at your chin with the back of your arm to wipe the drool away.

“Don’t try to remove the gag,” he cautions.

“Yeththir,” you mumble around the ball.

He reaches out and pulls on your nipple. ”Decision time,” he says. ”You’ve almost made it to being my good slave boy. Do you have what it takes? Or should I just leave you?”

Leave you? After all this? No, sir! you think. Please no! I can be a good slave boy. I know it. I’ll prove it! Even as you think all of this you know it’s wrong. You’ve never wanted to be any man’s slave boy like this. After all that he’s done to you how could you want it to continue? But you know you have to prove to him you have what it takes. You still believe that the reward will be worth the punishment. You’re a good boy.

You try to speak very slowly and clearly, even though you’re still gagged. “Please. SIR. I. Can. Be. Good.”

“Okay,” he says, though he sounds like he’s not convinced. “One more test. And then it will be time for the decision.”

He unties your ankles from the horse and takes you back over to the bed. Once you have been refastened into the tight spread-eagle he sits beside you.

“Now, this is the test. DO NOT CUM without permission. I will take out your gag. The ONLY thing you are allowed to say, is ‘Sir, may I please cum, Sir?’ If I think you are genuinely asking, I may allow it.”

You scrunch your eyes shut. You’re going to make him proud.

“There is no ‘Please stop, I am close’,” he continues. “Do you understand the rules?”

“Thir, yeththir.” With the ballgag still in place the words are really a lisped mumble.

He removes the gag and then the torture starts. Torture because with all that he has done, you’re so close to climax you’re not sure how much more you can withstand. He begins by polishing the head of your cock with the palm of his hand.

You squirm and want to cry out, but you remember you are only allowed to say one phrase.

He strokes your hard cock, teases you, runs his fingers over your shaft, pinches and plays with your nipples. He rubs your shaved chest and tickles down the trail where your pubic hair used to be.

“Sir, may I please cum, Sir?” you moan.

“No, boy.”

He continues to tickle and tease you.

“Sir, may I please cum, Sir?” you repeat.

Again the answer is no.

A new layer of sweat forms on your forehead and chest, and you strain against the cuffs.

He keeps this teasing up for much longer than any untrained boy could possibly take.

With a great moan and fully straining against the bonds, you begin to shoot. The constant bondage and stimulation has made you hornier than you can remember being and you shoot far over your own head. Wave after wave of pleasure courses through your body as more and more cum spurts from you.

Once you have sagged against the bed and drawn a few ragged breaths you realize you have failed the test. You’ve disobeyed. You look at him and say, “Sir, I am so sorry I disappointed you again. I will accept my punishment, Sir.”

He smiles. “These last two tests were to show you that when it is a test of wills your Master will always win. As my slave boy you will have no control over your own body. You tried to hold in your enema, but you couldn’t. You tried to not cum, but you couldn’t. I wanted to prove this point beforehand.”

He removes the leather collar, and locks on a chain link slave collar. He also, places a chastity device on your limp dick.

“You have a decision to make. I have sent you the keys to both of these in the mail. You will receive them tomorrow. If you wish to submit to me as my slave boy, return the envelope to me unopened. If you don’t wish to continue your exploration of this—which you obviously enjoyed—then open the envelope, remove the collar and chastity device, and return them to me.”

His words finally register in your slightly dazed mind.

“If you choose to become my slave, you must return the envelope unopened. Do not open it and then change your mind. Once it is opened there is no turning back.”

He unlocks the wrist and ankle cuffs.

“I will be here at 7pm tomorrow. I hope you will too.”

As you sit up and see him disappear into the shadows of the house, you realize you hope to see him tomorrow. You also realize you still have no idea who he truly is.