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A slave's Induction
Ch 2 - Home with Bill and Nick
In my state, I wasn't connected with time too well, so when we pulled into the well lit area and came to a stop, I couldn't have told you with any assurance, how long we'd been traveling. It seemed like around 45 minutes possibly. And I had no idea where we were. I felt a little drunker than I might have been, even for the amount I had to drink, but didn't think too much of it. Nick turned off the engine and the two men got out as I heard the steel roll up slam shut behind us to a very large garage. I grabbed my underwear and started to put them on as Bill opened my door, "It would continue to please me if you didn't do that Tom."
I put them back and said, "Ok." A handsome young man came from inside the house, and welcomed the Boss and Nick home. I got out of the car feeling a bit disarmed, being naked while Bill and Nick were dressed. The concrete was cold on my bare feet but it almost didnt register. I reached for my neatly folded pile of clothes with boots on top. As I scooped them up into my arms and turned around, Bill took them and handed them to the young naked fellow who was obviously a houseboy.
"See that these are washed and folded for our guest here," were the accompanying instructions.
"That's ok Bill," I said, "You don't have to do that. They're fine really." The young man disappeared, my cloths along with him as Bill addressed me, "They were spilled on and smell like smoke from the bar. They'll be better freshly washed. That is," he added, "If you don't mind."
They were already gone. What was I going to say, "No I'd rather them smell up your house and remain soiled?" Like with the car keys, I yielded to Bill's wish for my clothes as well, and asked if I could just have my wallet.
Bill told me everything would be looked after, that nothing was going anywhere, and then he said, "You worry too much Tom. You need to learn how to relax and let go a bit. You're a good guy. I can tell. I wouldn't have invited you back here if I didn't think so, but u are a little up tight." He sighted his reasons for the accusation. "You were a little slow about taking off your shirt for me, you hesitated with the drink I bought you, you were reluctant to undress for me, you had to be convinced to let me take care of your car. Now, you don't want your clothes to be taken care of as pleases me and you are asking for your wallet. What would you do with it? Where would you put it, up your ass?" He said laughing - almost belittling me.
Nick stood by silently and Bill crossed his powerful hairy arms as if waiting for an answer. I didn't know what to say. The only thing that felt like it had merit was to agree with him. It felt disarmingly strange to be standing there naked in front of these men especially with as little control as I had. No car, no clothes, no ID, no money, and someone used to getting his way, pissed at me and yelling at me. Well maybe not yelling, but talking sternly.
"What if I decided I wanted to go? What would I do, drunk and naked?" I thought. I was already committed to stay the night with these two beautiful men. Tomorrow, I would just take off in the morning. Meanwhile the crossed armed god named Bill was looking at me and not moving.
"I'm sorry Bill," I said. "You're right. You're being so good and nice to me to let me stay in your home, and I'm behaving like an idiot. I'm really sorry man. I'll relax."
He made me promise to do just that and to trust his judgment - that I was drunk and he was not. And then he adjourned us all to the house. "More like it," he said. "Lets go inside and get you something to help you relax and we'll watch some very interesting footage I believe you will enjoy." He put his hand on the back of my neck and guided me toward a door. Even in my feeling more inebriated state, there was that electrical feeling again, goose flesh just from his touch.
We entered a large, well appointed multipurpose room. He told me to sit down. I picked a spot on a comfortable sofa and Bill directed Nick to make me a stiff drink. He selected a DVD and put it in the player and hit the button. He said he had some stuff to take care of and disappeared out another door before I could question him about the "stiff drink."
The picture on the screen came to life. It was Bill, working out, in a pair of shorts and socks and boots. It was absolutely mesmerizing and as erotic as could be imagined. Me, and my cock, were enjoying every frame of what we were seeing, when Nick came up from behind me. He pulled back on my head so that I was looking at the ceiling and told me to open up. I opened my mouth waiting for a kiss from the god but what I got was a directive. "Say aaahh Tom, and stick your tongue way out."
I thought, "Ok I'll play your game." As I did, he dropped a large capsule into the depth of my throat and said, "Swallow Tom." I hadn't much choice. He felt my throat for compliance, and then told me to open and stick my tongue out again.
"Ok," he said with resolve, satisfied the capsule had been swallowed.
As he walked back to the bar to get my drink, I turned around in my seat and hollered out, "OK! OK? What's OK? You just made me swallow a pill and I don't even know what it was."
Just as calm as if I were being conversational in my tone, he said, "And now, I'm going to give you that drink Bill wanted you to have. I kept objecting as he walked in front of me and faced me. He handed me the drink and said, "It's up to you. These are just things Bill wanted you to have to help you to relax, like you agreed to do for him. Do you remember promising to relax for him?"
I did remember and said so. Everything seemed to be for Bill though. He needed to be kept pleased and happy. What about me, I thought. I started to take exception, with, "but this" and "but that," all self-pitiful arguments. Nick let me complain on for about a minute before he stopped me. "Ok," he said, "You got it out of your system. Now don't be up tight, and relax. The pill's going to help you. Don't make me tell Bill about your reaction to something as simple as my giving you a pill. I wont tell him if you straighten out right now and finish that drink before he returns. He'll be gone at least ten minutes."
The place I was operating from was a different place, a place where logic was different. I was confused and seemed to be getting more so. With resignation, I issued one last quietly uttered, rather pitiful, "But," to the one who seemed my baby sitter. I'd never felt so much like I'd returned to my childhood and had been a bad boy in need of correction. I put the glass to my lips and drank several gulps before stopping. It was almost pure vodka like at the bar. I shuddered and said so to Nick's admonition, "No complaining. You're going to relax like you promised Bill. Right?"
I nodded in the affirmative and drank some more and couldn't believe myself. I asked if I could have ice in the glass and Nick's reaction was one of a congratulatory nature, "That's better Tom. See you're relaxing, and Bill's gonna be pleased. Yes you can have all the ice you like. Go over to the bar and get all you want. Just be sure I can see the glass at all times."
I got up and carefully made my way around to the back of the bar, set the glass on the top in plain view and filled it with ice. "Thanks man," I said, and again, I got congratulatory affirmations. "See. That's how you relax and go with the flow. You need to learn to do that right from the get go. Loose the knee-jerk reaction and drama that are so pointless, and only upset and irritate the ones you want to please most."
I drank several swallows right there. "Atta boy," Nick said." The pill you took for Bill works best with alcohol. He told me he gave it to me the way he did so he would be able to tell Bill that I took and swallowed it right down without a question.
"I guess I should thank you then," I said.
"Yeah," he agreed. "I'd accept that."
I thanked him for what I had yelled at him for earlier, and he looked pleased with himself. I returned to my seat on the sofa, held my drink and worked on it steadily as I watched the beautiful man on the screen work his amazing muscles, his visage glistening with sweat, and body hair shimmering from it in the down lights of his gym. I would find out that room was next door. Finally the last drops of the drink had been downed, and I told Nick I was done.
Everything was starting to look different, and I was much more relaxed. I knew Bill had seen to it I got drunk and needed to spend the night, but it didn't seem unfair. I was a little fuzzy in the thinking department. Nick was guiding my thoughts about Bill. I began to see him in a new light as I looked at his powerful form on the screen in front of me. He seemed deserving of the respect and pleasure he required, and presumed. It made him even more god-like, with powers over the rest of us. I couldn't wait till he came back and I could see him again.
As I heard the knob being turned, I looked from the screen, to the door. The real thing was entering the room. The god I'd been watching on the screen was here now. Enthralled, I watched him come toward me not wanting to blink for missing a millisecond of his presence. He strolled over still fully dressed in his tight jeans and worn thin T Shirt, to the sofa where I was sitting completely naked, and spoke to Nick on the way. "How are we doing?" was the question as he reached me and looked down at me, seemingly from on high.
"Good Boss," Nick said. Bill sat down close on the sofa. There was that unavoidable mesmerizing scent. From the table in front of me he picked up and inspected the tall glass I had put there empty but for the ice.
"I see you finished your drink Tom." Without giving me a chance to answer he continued with Nick, to enquire about the pill. As he said he would, Nick told Bill I'd taken it right down with no questions, and, as he said he wouldn't, nothing was said about my outbreak. Bill put his hand presumptively on my inner thigh and as if he'd been doing it for ever, moved it as high up into my groin as it would go next to my cock and balls. The words came almost as if Franz Mesmer himself was speaking them, "So are you feeling relaxed for me. You're much more focussed, and you feel glad about that." He rubbed lightly and it felt so very good, like his arm around my shoulder earlier. "It's ok. You're safe here. Close your eyes and put your head back." As I did I began to respond and heard a gentle shushing sound that stopped me, "Just listen. Play the footage in your head you've been enjoying of me in the gym. Think about my powerful scent you love so much.
As I began to inhale deeply to pick it up I felt something. Bill had run his fingers through his hairy armpit and was wiping them under my nose. Poppers had never had such an effect. As he spoke his voice had such a soothing effect. I know he spoke for a while longer. I heard his voice but as if my conscious was disconnected, it must have entered my subconscious mind until a question was eliciting an answer, "But pleasing me is the most important thing right Tom?"
What came out in my relaxed, seeing-more-clearly state of mind, as naturally as if I'd been saying it all my life? "Yes Sir, Boss." Seemed as though I remembered Nick telling me it would be a good way to address Bill. As if returning from a long relaxing vacation, I was back - sitting up - eyes open and a part of the present.
Bill confirmed either "Sir," or "Boss," was just the way he liked me addressing him, and that I should stick with it. He told Nick to put in some of the "other" footage for us to watch. He congratulated, encouraged and affirmed my evolving state of mind, "You're seeing things more clearly. You're feeling differently about things - about me. You're sorry for being disrespectful and for not trusting me, and I'm sure if given the chance, you'd make up a nice apology to me for those things, wouldn't you?"
"Yes Sir."
"Well later I'll give you that opportunity. For now though, lets watch." Nick hit the remote and the screen changed from Bill's work out to a naked man being strapped spread eagle to a St Andrews cross type affair. He looked terrified, and was crying and begging the man securing him, to please not hurt his balls any more. We watched as the man tortured the balls unmercifully telling his victim there was only one way to end the pain. He reminded the victim that he had to beg to have his balls removed. And after about an hour of skewering and injecting them, pressing them flat, beating them with implements and pulling them out from his body, he did just that. With tears in his eyes he pleaded resignedly to have them removed. He kept being told he couldn't be heard and the pain continued until he was screeching a the top of his worn out lungs, "PLEASE CUT MY BALLS OFF!" He was asked repeatedly, if he was sure that's what he wanted, and he had to affirm each time that it was. At the end, the victim's tormentor banded the nut sack and sliced off the nuts just below the band. The movie was paused.
It was all I'd ever fantasized of, and more. Bill had me playing with myself during the whole video and told me to shoot, which I did in a gusher. "Good." Bill said, as he wiped some of it up and smeared it over my mouth and face. There was another video not unlike the first after it. Bill had Nick suck my dick to get me hard again during the viewing. I was somewhat taken aback by it all, and asked my host where he'd gotten those kinds of videos.
"I make them," he said. They are my productions. They are marketed in a way that cannot be traced back to me, to men interested in these things. They pay a lot of money for the privilege of viewing something so unusual." Then with pride he added, "Good aren't they?"
Somehow this brought reality a little too close to home so-to-speak, but I answered with the only answer, "Yes Sir Boss. Amazing Sir." They WERE after all. He said he thought I'd like them. He said he had wanted me to see some of the footage because he had a proposition for me.
He stood up and started taking off his clothes right in front of me and told me he was going to let me feel him all over, however I wanted, wherever I wanted. I watched transfixed as his whole body began to be exposed. The sense of privilege I felt, and the ecstasy of seeing him becoming naked in front of me, would be hard to describe. And as he lowered his underwear, his proud oversized manhood became my fixation. I'd done plenty of imagining, and it far exceeded my wishful expectations - appropriate for a god. Even with permission, it felt presumptuous to do what was being allowed. Looking longingly at the beauty in front of me, he knew exactly my mind, so he assured me, "Don't worry. There's no place you can't touch, no place you can't go."
He reminded me of smelling him up close, and raised his arms up, and interlaced his fingers behind hid head. I stood immediately. The phenomenal scent drew me toward the deep hairy pit. I stopped, my nose short of contact, and inhaled deeply remembering how much I wanted to be here on first smelling him at the bar. He knew what I needed but was reluctant to do, "Go ahead," he prompted assertively.
I buried my nose in his crop of pit hair and went to heaven inhaling slowly and deeply. It was a smell I would remember forever, on a man I would remember forever. He told me to enjoy myself and not be shy. As I inhaled I began gingerly, to feel the god standing there. My hands - one in front and one in back traced through the thick body hair. I felt his powerful thick shoulder with them both. Then my left traced over hair covered pecs with enormous fingertip sized nipples protruding - while the right did the same with his dimpled upper back. Graduating equally, each hand felt its way ecstatically downward - left, through the hair covered stomach, tracing each exaggerated crevasse between rippled abs - the right, the small of the back and increased turf of forest above his ass. And the greatest privilege of all - my left hand reached the dense bush atop his manhood - fingers mingling with it and tugging lightly at it - lingering - having to remind myself of what I'd been told, "Its ok. There's no place you cant go - nothing you cant feel."
How was it I was so favored as to be given this privilege, were my inescapable thoughts. I allowed myself just to touch with fingertips the base of his burgeoning stalk of life growing out of that black mat of heavily forested bush. Wrapping my hand around it I felt that sense of overload. I was light headed. Maybe the drug - no - it didn't matter. I was holding the cock of a god in my hand while my face was in his armpit - each breath of the air allowing me to live, filled with his powerful smell. I began to sweat as I stroked his cock. It began to harden, and felt even bigger than it looked.
Tearing my focus from the preoccupation of my left hand, my right, having passed through the extra turf above his bubble cheeks, began to explore the deepening hair filled valley leading to his most private place of all - and reaching "ground zero," his asshole. I wondered what it would be like to feel inside. That was a boundary I would not presume to push, but feeling his ass crack and cock at the same time put me in a transfixed place of Nirvana where I admit I lingered almost unable to break away.
I did break reluctantly away from pit and cock and ass. I knelt down, and took pendulous hair covered balls in my hands. I worshipped his manhood, rubbing my face with massive cock and balls, kissing and inhaling his masculinity. With my face lingering as long as possible, I began to focus on his leg. My left hand pushed up on the inner thigh next to his balls as far into his groin as it would go. With the right one on the outside, I massaged and kneaded the so personal place. He elicited a moan, and I felt my balls churn with a load that felt, for the first time, like it could boil over on its own. Slowly, downward, my hands traveled over his thickly muscled thigh, knee, huge calf, ankle, and sturdy strong wide size 13. It all comprised to equal something akin to a massive support column at the Acropolis.
Each part was extraordinary. After allowing my worship session on one side, he lowered his arms and directed me to the other. Armpit unavailable, I concentrated on his massive arm before torso and downward like before. He must have allowed me a half hour of ecstasy for which I felt utterly indebted. I had happily devoted myself to worshiping this fine work of god art from the neck down as I was allowed and invited. All the hair, all the muscles, all the private places, were almost too much to process. It was the most compelling experience I'd ever known. When he told me it was enough, I thanked him profusely, dropped to the floor, and kissed his feet.
The big god-man looked down at me and laughed out loud, permitting my doting expression of gratitude as he spoke to Nick, "I think he's totally relaxed."
"Yes Sir, "Nick said, "And definitely in touch with what you said to him at the bar about maybe getting lucky tonight. Right Tom? Have you ever felt luckier?" He asked me.
In my state of augmented, enhanced ecstasy, even Nick became "Sir," as I gave my emphatic answer from my place on the floor, "NO SIR!"
As Bill allowed me to lavish my affection on his hairy feet, they both laughed, "Oh yeah," Bill said looking down, "This boy is definitely in my zone."
The drug had had time to work. It and the alcohol, along with my already strong attraction to the man before me, were assuring the supplicant he intended.
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