BREAKING ME IN
Chapter 2
When I told my father I'd been invited by a new friend for a weekend visit, he was delighted. It had always concerned him that I was such a loner. It was a relief to find out that I'd made a friend, a friend who thought so much of me that he'd invite me to spend a weekend with him. And so, as I said my goodbye to Dad on Friday morning, he wished me well and sent me off with his blessing.
I crammed my clothing into my backpack and only took the notebook I needed for my two Friday classes, and the novel I had to read for my English lit course which, as it turned out, was entitled "Of Human Bondage" by Maugham. Prophetic title, to be sure, although I wasn't yet aware of just how appropriate it would be.
The day dragged on. A number of times I almost chickened out, but as I walked around campus and realized just how many of my fellow male students were so attractive to me, I knew I had to do something to bring my gay virginity to an end. The vision of Bobby's perfectly shaped cock being waved before me in the shower had engraved itself in my mind and I found myself wondering if any of the hot guys I passed along the way would have cocks as scrumptious as Bobby's. I planned to find out after I'd popped my cocksucker cherry over the weekend, especially now that I realized I could just walk into the gym and take a shower when other guys were parading around naked as well. I was determined to become a cock-hungry pervert and hopefully could get established as a campus cocksucker for guys who didn't care if a dude sucked them off.
Finally, it was time. I got to Orson Hall ten minutes early and kept my eyes on the driveway, looking for the black limo. Only then did it occur to me that I was being picked up in a limo and how unusual that was. Was Bobby wealthy? Was he unable to drive? Why didn't he ask me to bring him home in my own car? So many questions as the bubbles in my tummy vibrated through my blood stream. At last the limo arrived. It stopped before me and the back door was thrown open. "Get in," commanded Bobby. I got in carrying my backpack. Bobby helped me get it off my shoulders and tossed it into the front seat while the two of us sat together in the back. I was having trouble breathing. Bobby pressed a button and the privacy screen between the back seat and the driver went up.
"You're nervous," noted Bobby. "Slow down your breathing. Match with me. . . . slower . . . " We sat there and it really did help me calm down to match my breath to Bobby's. "Wow," he says to me, "you look vulnerable. Cute. Hopeful. That is good. And don't worry, the chauffeur won't be able to hear anything."
I wasn't sure why but didn't want to seem like I was disagreeing, so all I did was nod my head. "Nothing is going to happen that you're not ready for. Nothing is going to happen that you don't need. Right now, you don't really even know what you truly need, but I do. It's my job to take you where you need to go." Bobby held out his hands. "I'd like you to place yourself into my hands," he said to me, gesturing with his fingers until at last I took my sweaty palms and placed them into Bobby's hands. He held them briefly and then let go. "I'm not surprised that your hands are wet. This is a very new experience for you and it seems like you're somewhat uneasy about having to face the unknown. Here: let me help increase your eagerness to be here with me."
I couldn't believe what happened. He pulled down his zipper and fiddled inside his pants and exposed the crown of his dick—just the crown, for me to see. "This is what you're here for, isn't it, boy?"
"Yes, Sir, it is." Damn! Again, I said Sir. "Give it a good look. Tell me you're a faggot and you're hungry for my dick."
This is difficult to admit even though we're both well aware of what I'm here for. "Um...I'm a faggot and I'm hungry for your dick, Bobby. I want it so much."
"Then you're in luck, faggot. You'll be serving my meat with your mouth and tongue all the time this weekend, and I bet you'll l never get tired of it. You'll always want to beg for more. Don't be shy, now, boy. Feast your eyes on the head of my dick. I'm bringing you home with me to serve it. To enjoy it. To taste it. To give it pleasure." As he said that to me, a drop of liquid appeared at the slit of his dick. He took a finger and wiped it up then held out his finger and slowly moved it towards my lips, his beautiful eyes fixed on me with a hypnotic glare. "Take your first taste," he commanded. I took the tip of his finger into my mouth and licked it clean.
"Good boy."
What was it about those two simple words that affected me so strongly? Pleasure flowed through my body that was so pervasive that there was no energy left for me to realize that I'd just done something that some people would think disgusting.
"More liquid appeared. Again Bobby wiped it up and extended his finger. This time I deliberately moved my mouth towards his finger to clean it off. "Eager. That pleases me. By the way, this is what is called pre-cum. The fact that it's leaking from my dick is an indication that I'm turned on right now, turned on by your presence, your eagerness, your obedience and your willingness to taste me in a way that you've never ever tasted another man before. Here. Have another taste before I put my dick back in my pants." This time he used three fingers to clean off the leaky head of his cock. As soon as he raised his hand towards me I eagerly took all three fingers into my mouth and sucked them clean. "Suck the fingers now. Practice for sucking cock later," he commanded, and I took them in a little bit. "More," he commanded. "Take them more deeply into your mouth." I did my best, but Bobby seemed to get a bit impatient and actually started gently fucking my mouth with those three fingers. "That's right, faggot. Open up, baby. Be like my baby sucking a tit. Fuck your mouth on my fingers." Damn. He called me `faggot'. Did that mean he's straight?
He kept fucking my mouth with those fingers, deeper and deeper until I started to gag a bit. He immediately withdrew his fingers and lightly slapped me across the face with them, then dried them in my hair. "You're doing fine, just fine, boy. You're gonna make an excellent cock-sucker," Bobby said, as he let the head of his cock slip back into his pants and zipped up again. I was so disappointed to see it disappear that I groaned. "I like the sound you make when you're gagging on my fingers. I bet it'll be even sexier when you're gagging on my cock. You wanna gag on my cock, boy?" I blushed and shook my head yes.
"Tell me that you want to suck my cock. I want to hear you say it," he commanded. I never said anything like that before and it was hard to get the words out. "I wanna suck you," I mumbled. "What's that, boy?" "I said I wanna suck your dick, Bobby." "A little louder," he said, smacking my face harder now. "I want to suck your cock, Bobby. Please let me suck your cock soon," I added, hoping it would please him to hear me humiliate myself like that.
His voice changed to a more conversational tone and as he spoke to me I realize that up until now he'd been speaking in a commanding voice. That was the only voice I'd heard from him until now. The change in tone helped me relax.
"The ride home will be about twenty minutes, so we've got some time to chat a bit. I have my own private chambers at home and we will not be disturbed. I'm not going to introduce you to my parents this time around. They prefer to only meet boys I establish some kind of rapport with. You and I will be alone all weekend. Meals will be provided in my private dining room which is shut off from the rest of my quarters, so the servants who set up our meals will not be able to hear what we'll be doing."
Servants? Wow. This guy must really be wealthy. Bobby must have read my mind because he immediately said to me, "We are quite wealthy. I hope that won't make things difficult for you. I know you're not well off. That's doesn't matter to me. I like it that you're a poor boy. That way I can own you without having to spend a fortune buying you from your father. In fact, I bet he'll really like getting well paid for you. It will solve a lot of problems for him and also rid him of any need to bother with you any longer. I bet he'd be glad to get rid of you, to have his own freedom."
I told him I wasn't sure about that but he told me not to worry about it, that he would take care of things when the time is right. I'm kind of skeptical about all this. Dad and I have a good relationship. I don't think he's tired of me or feel over-burdened. I can't imagine he'd actually sell me like a piece of property. Bobby is making assumptions that I don't think are accurate. I guess we'll just have to see. I just let Bobby keep talking without objecting to anything he has to say. "Your Dad doesn't really like you very much. That's not your fault at all; it's his problem. He'll be missing out on something special: your love for him was never great anyway—now it can all be transferred to me because I'm planning to own you. To enslave you. All mine. You'll exist for my pleasure, and when I'm feeling pleasure you'll be satisfying your purpose in life. The poor waif gets enslave by the rich boy and the slave's never had it so good before, even though you'll be trained under my lash. You'll learn to take the pain. It's good for a faggot like you. Helps you understand what you're becoming. I assure you, boy, I'm not going to spoil you in any way. I intend to train you, to ruin you, to turn you into a committed submissive so I can share your mouth and ass with my friends whenever I want. I intend to teach you your place with reference to me. I intend to train you to find your greatest satisfaction in pleasing me, in serving my cock, in sucking every cock I order you to suck so you can make me look powerful in the eyes of my friends. In time, in fact, you'll get your joy by serving my entire body."
A couple things were going through my mind. First, that he never asked for or uses my name. "Boy" seems to be what he's settled on. That's fine. It helps me feel more submissive. The financial situation isn't a bother either, at least not yet. I'm not sure what he meant by "owning me or ruining you," but I'll hold off on that for now. The biggest question on my mind, and the most surprising thing to hear, is that he said I will get pleasure by giving him pleasure. Then he said something which confused me and made me worry. "You'll have to pay me to give you my cock."
"I can't to pay for anything, Bobby. Some days I can hardly buy lunch. My resources are limited. I'm sorry." I figured he would order the car to turn around at this point, but instead, he chuckled a bit. "Money isn't at issue. There are other ways to pay. You will indeed have to pay for access to my dick. I'll get what I want out of you, don't worry. And I'm sure you'll end up eating a lot better without having to pinch any pennies. He reaches out and slaps me across the face with a good substantial slap and I jerk up, shocked. "Very simple indeed, boy. You got to see the head of my dick. You tasted my pre-cum. You licked my fingers clean and felt them fuck your mouth. And now, you've paid the price. A simple price, I'd say. Just a light slap. Wouldn't you agree, boy?"
"I . . I guess so, Sir."
"Would you like for me to have my chauffeur bring you back to campus now?"
"No, Sir, please no."
"Consider, then, the fact that I'll be slapping you around when I want. It's the best way to get your attention. As far as I'm concerned, it's a suitable form of payment. It helps you realize that we are not equals. And, I suspect, the more you think about it the easier you'll find it to accept it. Am I not correct, boy?"
I closed my eyes and thought for a while. how did it make me feel when he slapped me, after the initial burst of anger? I guess I'd have to say it was okay. Actually, it felt good. The "idea" that he could slap me when he wanted to did indeed help me realize I am inferior to him. That thought is actually turning me on a little. My cock was hard as a rock. He could see it. He ran his fingers over it and chuckled. "Not nearly as big or as nice as mine, isn't it?"
"No, Sir."
"That's just another sign of how we are not equals, that you are inferior to me. But don't let that worry you, boy. I will love you because you are inferior to me, because I can give you pain to help you realize what you are. Understand, boy?"
I'm a little frightened by what he tells me, and yet my cock stays hard and is leaking into my underpants. "Things are starting to make sense, Sir." He slaps my hardon and then laughs. "See? That little cock isn't made for pleasure. It's a toy for me to enjoy. The only cock that really matters in our relationship is the one between my legs, the one that you lust after like the faggot cocksucker you're meant to become. And it will be our secret. Back at school, no one will know that you take my dick and I slap you around all the time. No one will know that you're my cocksucker, that I'm training you to give pleasure to my cock. Are you willing to learn how to be my cocksucker, boy?"
"Yes, Bobby. Please?"
"Excellent. I'm pleased. Now tell me some things about yourself, your family, background, interests, things like that. Take your time."
And so I started talking. I started with my mother's death ("condolences") and my somewhat distant relationship with my father. At this, he grunted and said, "it all fits." I didn't understand what he meant. "When did you realize you were queer?" he asked. "The kids in my class were calling me "queer' before they ever knew what it meant. But at summer camp when I was 10, we boys would experiment with our hardons. Eventually I became the go-to boy for hand jobs. "How did they treat you?" "Like I was a hero. They were all very good to me. I used to sign up to go fishing in the afternoons, and the guys who wanted me to jerk them off also signed up. There were plenty of places along the creek where we fished to go deeper into the woods to a safe spot where they'd whip out their cocks and I'd take care of them. A couple of them would make me kneel. One of the black guys used to make me pull down my pants and he'd rub my ass while I jerked off his big black dick. He kept asking me if he could put it up my ass, but I always said no."
"You're lucky you didn't get raped. But continue telling about your queer development, and it seems like you were also already turning into a submissive."
"Well, I remember this counselor who I had a big crush on. One night he came to my cabin and woke me up waving his hard-on over my head and wanted some attention. I reluctantly did so, and have always regretted that I really didn't get into it and use both hands and maybe even my mouth to give him the best service ever. But I didn't, and he soon got tired of what I was doing, put his cock away, and never asked me again. Looking back, now I realize that I really didn't please him much because if I had he would have been back every night." "Do you still regret disappointing him?"
"More like disappointing myself. I wish I had taken his cock in my mouth but I guess it wasn't time yet. I was only 12." "It sounds like you still feel guilty for not being good enough for him."
"That's right, Sir. All the time."
"Well the best thing for a guilty boy like you is a good thrashing, and I'll take care of that soon enough. Maybe we'll even send him a picture of what you look like with welts all over your back and ass. Yeah, boy, I know what you need to help you make up for your selfishness to him: A damn good thrashing with a thick black belt until you're shedding tears and sobbing. You'd be amazed at how much good something like that can do to a guilty boy. " I chose not to react to that remark. How naïve I was! At the time I never realized that one of Bobby's greatest fantasies was to whip the daylights out of me with his thick black belt. Never would I have dreamed what was in the cards for me. Anyway, I started talking about high school but it seemed like Bobby had lost interest once he found out that I was such a coward that I remained a total virgin all through high school and never got to enjoy anyone's cock despite the fact that I'd attended a boys' school and was watching all my classmates enter and move through puberty.
"Didn't you like peeking at them in the showers like the faggot you are?" he asked. For some strange reason I didn't take offense when he was calling me queer' and faggot' like I usually did. In fact, for some reason, it made me feel good, deep down inside.
"We didn't have gym or showers in that school," I told him. "So you never got to see your buddies' pubic hair grow in?" "Nope. And mine grew in later than everyone else. I found that out in summer camp because we'd all get naked together sometimes and they'd laugh at me because I was still hairless."
"Hairless", he said, smacking my dick a little. "Good idea. I think I'll make you hairless again. So you'll look like the boy and I'm the man in charge." I just shut up.
"Anything else? Any time you ever jerked off with anyone?" "Oh yes. In 10th grade. My buddy and I used to sleep in a sofa bed together and we'd jerk off every night. That was the first time I ever got to see a hard dick. It was the same size as mine, so that was cool." "Didn't you two try jerking each other off?" "Once we did, but only for less than half a minute. We didn't like it." "Curious," he says. "I'm surprised you didn't beg to blow him." "He was straight, I answered, and I was still afraid to let anyone know I was a queer."
"Such a little coward you were, boy. I guess I should count myself lucky that you haven't chickened out with me. I half expected you not to be there when we came to pick you up."
"What would have happened if I did chicken out." "Nothing. Absolutely nothing. We would have been through before we ever got started. I don't fuck around. I'll let you know this right now, boy: the first time you ever chicken out with me means we're through forever. No second chances. Do you understand what I'm telling you, boy?" "Yes, Sir." I was very confused about this. I couldn't possibly imagine why I'd ever think of chickening out. What was there to be afraid of? Another thing, too: again I realized that he never used my name but always called me boy' and eventually faggot' and couple times even `slave,' but I didn't notice this this at the time.
"So tell me this: there are several bathrooms on campus where guys sometimes hang out in order to find others to play with. Have you discovered any of those places?" "Yes, Sir. The Library. Outside the newspaper office. Basement of the music building." "How much time have you spent hanging out in those places?" "Too much time, to tell the truth. And nothing ever came of it."
"Poor baby. So there you were, trying to pay attention to your studies but constantly distracted by this gnawing emptiness inside that could only be filled up by contact with another guy's cock, and you spent time hunting for it but had no luck. Meanwhile you started staring with this hot guy in your history class and probably had to stop yourself from drooling. And I was aware of it a lot sooner than you realized. I was just waiting until I sensed that your faggot hunger was driving you out of your mind. So I took pity on you and decided to take you `under my arm,' literally, as you know. And now you've had lots of chances to stare close up to my cock for as long as you wanted, and soon you are going to put it in your mouth and then do everything I tell you to do until finally I cum in your mouth and you're going to swallow it down, all of it. If you spill any of my cum, you'll be punished. Understand, faggot?" "Yes, Sir." I suddenly realized that Bobby just let me know that he'd be punishing me if I displeased him." For some reason that turned me on even more.
"Good boy. Now don't forget what I told you: I give you cock. You pay with pain. That's the deal." The way he said that made me tremble, not from fear, but actually from desire. And I remembered what he said earlier about how a good thrashing with a thick leather belt can do some boys a lot of good. And I was hoping to find out if that's really true. Shit. What was going on here?
We pulled up to a monstrous house, larger than anything I'd ever seen before. Bobby lowered the screen and thanked the chauffeur and told him he could leave the two of us alone back here. Then he reached into the front seat for my backpack and put it on the seat between us and opened it up. "Take off your shoes and socks and put them in here. I want you barefoot from here on in." I said nothing, but just did what he told me to. He took them from me and managed to squeeze them into the backpack. So I sat there in the back of the limo, barefoot and for some reason, I felt it was only appropriate that I not be allowed anything on my feet; only he could keep his footgear.
He slapped me on the thigh, not too hard, and told me to get out of the car and take out my backpack and put it on. So I did. He followed and shut the door. "The entrance to my quarters is around the back of the house. Come." Much to my dismay, I discovered that the path leading to his quarters was not paved, but rather made of small stones which made walking barefoot rather unpleasant. A couple times Bobby looked down at my feet, it seemed, and chuckled. "Consider what I'm teaching you," he said to me, but it was only later that I realized what he meant. All I knew is that it hurt a bit to walk this path and he wasn't slowing down to make it any easier for me. I figured that one thing he was teaching me was that he was serious about pain and that he wasn't about to make anything easy for me. But why? And why was this stirring up something dark in my gut. Damn, I said to myself, if I'm going to hurt for anyone at all it would most definitely be for this boy.
(To reader: I have a pic of what I want Bobby to look like f you want to it, just ask).
Please write me and let me know what you think of this new story. subkodak25@gmail.com
Here are the other stories I have posted, in order:
The Alex Chronicles Sweet Subjugation Brandon's Bosses Brandon's Brothers Total Subjugation Tommy Loves His Sub Training Toby Breaking me in
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Rob