Dr Debt and His New Bitch

This story is a fantasy set in the real world. Obviously, any similarities between characters appearing in it and the real world are purely coincidental. This is also copyrighted material. So while you're welcome to make a personal copy for yourself, any other reproduction or reposting is not allowed without the prior written consent of the author.

Please be aware that this chapter contains descriptions of consensual sexual activities involving individuals under the age of 18. If the possession or receipt of such material violates the laws of your domicile you are advised to immediately exit this document.

Any comments or criticisms should be directed to Rafi at rafidaud69@gmail.com. While suggestions are welcomed, the four chapters of this story are already written. I would, however, consider any suggestions in future stories.

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DR. DEBT & HIS NEW BITCH

PART FOUR

Saturday morning passed uneventfully. Jen was pretty quiet and Brady busied himself by cleaning the apartment. She left for work around noon. At just about precisely 1:00 p.m., the phone rang. It was Heck. He confirmed to Brady that he'd be arriving in an hour.

The first thing Brady did once he got off the phone was head to the bathroom. He gave himself an enema and, after he voided it, got into the shower and proceeded to shave his entire body. Having decided that becoming Heck's bitch was the best solution to his problems, Brady wanted to make sure that everything was as good as he could make it for their first coupling. Now that he had made up his own mind to become the boy's bitch, Brady needed to get Heck to agree to be his master.

Brady finished his preparations about 1:45 p.m. and, for the next fifteen minutes, anxiously paced back and forth in his apartment. He couldn't believe how nervous he felt. It was like he was a bride on her wedding night, hoping to please her new husband. When he consciously made that comparison in his mind, he realized how apt it was. The only difference was that, if he did please his new 'husband,' there'd be no going back, at least not for Brady. Once Heck agreed to be his master and Brady agreed to be his bitch, Brady would be totally under the boy's control. There'd be no divorce unless Heck wanted it. And this wasn't going to be any modern 'partnership.' Brady was going to be Heck's bitch and totally subject to the teenager's will. No wonder he was so nervous.

Brady had just walked back into the living room from the entryway when he heard a knocking at the door. He immediately turned around and headed back into the entryway. When he came to the hallway mirror, he paused to check himself out. Almost without any conscious thought, his hands reached up and began squeezing his tits to plump them up. A second later there was another knock on the door, this one louder and more insistent. Brady took his hands off his pecs and hurried to open the door.

Heck was standing there, looking irritated. "Where were you, dude?" he asked, as he walked into Brady's apartment. "I told you I was coming by at 2:00 p.m. I don't like to be kept waiting."

"I'm sorry, Heck," Brady replied, following behind the boy as he headed to the living room. It felt weird to be meekly apologizing to a fifteen-year-old teenager but it dawned on Brady that this was the life he was choosing - being a teenage boy's bitch. He could kiss his macho days goodbye. He'd be the one taking the orders and doing what he was told from now on. He was going to be the pussyboy in the relationship and he might as well get used to it.

Once he was inside the apartment, the boy looked around. Then Heck turned back to Brady. "Well, you need to be punished," he declared. "Is that the chair he used when he spanked you?" the boy asked, pointing to the chair at the end of the dining room table.

"Yes, Heck," Brady softly responded.

Heck walked over to it, flipped it around, and sat down on it. "You, know the drill, Brady," Heck said, gesturing to his lap.

"Yes, Heck," Brady agreed as he walked over to the boy. Visibly biting down on his lower lip, Brady lowered his body on to the boy's thighs. He stifled a gasp as he felt Heck reach under his stomach and grab Brady's balls and cock in his left hand, essentially immobilizing the man. And then he moaned as Heck forcefully brought his right hand down on Brady's naked ass-cheeks.

"One, thank you, sir," Brady immediately counted, as Dr. Debt had trained him on the previous Friday.

Heck, however, stopped in mid-stroke. "What are you doing, Brady?" he asked.

"I'm counting out the strokes, sir," Brady replied. "Dr. Debt says a bitch always counts out each stroke while being spanked and thanks the man for delivering it."

Heck thought about that for a moment and then smiled. He liked it. And then he got an evil glint in his eye. "Didn't I tell you not to call me 'sir?'" he demanded.

Brady could feel himself blushing. "Yes, you did. I'm sorry.....master," he added.

"No," Heck shouted and delivered five hard smacks to Brady's ass. "I'm not your master yet. I told you to call me Heck. Didn't I?" He gave Brady's ass five more quick smacks.

"Yes, Heck. You did, Heck. I'm sorry, Heck," Brady immediately replied, trying hard not to squirm as he could feel his ass beginning to flare with heat. But his ass wasn't the only area where Brady could feel heat. Brady could feel his boy-dick hardening even more inside Heck's hand. Brady couldn't understand how it was happening but he was becoming more and more sexually aroused while Heck spanked him. Just like he had when Dr. Debt thrashed his ass on Friday. 'I must be a fucking bitch,' Brady thought, 'if I'm getting sexually excited by getting spanked by a fifteen-year-old kid.'

Because he had a grip on Brady's cock, Heck had also quickly realized that Brady was turned on by being spanked. It was another aspect of their relationship that blended well - Brady liked sucking Heck's dick and Heck liked having Brady suck it. Now, Brady liked being spanked and Heck had already decided that he liked spanking Brady's ass. Heck definitely liked spanking the dude's ass. His own dick was hard as a rock inside his pants and had been almost from the moment Brady had draped himself across Heck's lap.

Heck had to fight off the urge to rip his own shorts off and begin fucking Brady right then and there. Just looking at the fleshy mounds on his lap, already turning red from his hand, Heck was pretty sure he was going to enjoy fucking the dude. But Heck made himself wait. After all, he had the whole afternoon. Fuck man, if things went like Heck thought they would, he'd have all the time in the world to fuck Brady's ass. This man was going to be his boy. No, not his boy; his bitch! This hot, sexy, fully-adult male was going to be Heck's personal fuck-toy, ready to bend over and take the teenager's hard cock up his pussy whenever Heck wanted. Brady said he now had a pussy between his legs and Heck intended to treat it just that way. As a pussy. As his pussy. So there was no need to rush. Heck could take his time. Besides, Heck was sure he was going to enjoy working on Brady's ass.

And Heck did, too. He spanked Brady hard for a good fifteen minutes - until the man's butt was a glowing crimson; until Brady was audibly sobbing on each smash; until Heck's own hand had begun to hurt. The count reached 169 before he told Brady to stand up.

Brady stood in front of him, head cast down, the tears clearly visible on his cheeks, his legs noticeably shaking. And then, with an obvious effort of will, Brady forced himself to look up at Heck's face. "Thank you, Heck," he said. "Thank you for spanking me."

It took all of the teenager's self-control to keep from shooting off right then. It was so fucking hot having this muscular twenty-five-year-old stud, whose ass had just been beaten to a fiery red, standing submissively before Heck and actually thanking him for the spanking he'd just administered. So fucking hot. Heck knew that it was time.

"Go kneel on the sofa, bitch, legs spread apart, facing the wall," Heck suddenly ordered. "It's time I find out how good a bitch your really are."

Brady immediately did as he was told. Heck stood up and looked over at the man. His muscular ass was a bright red, providing a stark contrast with the tanned skin both above and below it. Heck had decided to fuck Brady doggie-style the first time. He had never fucked a dude before and Heck was afraid that seeing the guy's dick while Heck fucked him might be a turn-off. But, right now, at least, his own dick was raring to go. Heck quickly stripped off his clothes.

Heck moved behind Brady and, with his hand on Brady's back, forced the dude to bend over the back of the couch. The crimson ass was now sticking straight out at the teenager. Heck spit into his hand and worked the spit on to the head of his hard teenage cock. Then, kneeling between the man's spread calves, Heck positioned his cock right on Brady's anal rosette. "Here it comes, bitch," Heck warned as he drove his dick forward.

Heck managed to jam about a third of his hard prick into the hole on that first thrust. He was amazed at how tightly the man's hole gripped his boner. In front of him, Heck heard Brady whimper. Heck pulled about an inch of his dick out of Brady's butt and then rammed back in, this time penetrating all the way to the hilt. "Holy fuck," Heck moaned. "That feels so fucking good."

Brady stifled a shriek as this back-passage was once again brutally invaded though Heck was able to tell by the way the man's ass-cheeks clenched up that Heck's entry was causing him a considerable amount of pain. All Heck felt, however, was the tightness and warmth of an almost virgin manpussy and the heat of well-burnished buns.

Heck luxuriated inside Brady's hole for a long minute, just enjoying the incredible tightness of the man's ass. And then, ever so slowly, loving the way Brady's anal sheath massaged his hard cock, Heck began to fuck the man.

Brady's agonized groans slowly but perceptibly changed to moans of pleasure as Brady once again felt his pussy stuffed with rampaging man-meat. Brady's hole had felt so empty the last few days, as if some critical piece that should be there was somehow missing. And Brady now knew for a certainty what had been missing - another dude's hard dick reaming out his fuck-hole, stretching out his back-passage, banging against his prostrate and driving Brady wild. The cunt that Dr. Debt had cored out between Brady's legs had finally been filled again and Brady realized he didn't ever want it to be empty.

Heck looked down and watched as his long thick white pole slithered between Brady's scarlet globes and disappeared inside the man's searing furnace only to reappear moments later moistened and glistening with Brady's anal juices. It looked so hot and it felt so good. Without even thinking, Heck brought his hand smacking down on Brady's right butt-cheek.

Immediately, there was a squeal of pain from Brady followed by a noticeable tightening of his pussy. "Oh, yeah," Heck moaned as he struck the flaming cheek again. And again. And again.

Brady's clutching man-twat was driving Heck crazy. While he had intended to take it slow fucking Brady this first time, savoring the feel of his first experience at fucking another dude, Heck could feel himself losing control. He started banging the man's butt with abandon, plunging in to the hilt and withdrawing to the crown faster and faster till the sound of flesh slapping flesh echoed through the room.

As Heck started plowing Brady with force, Brady began moaning, "Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah. Fuck me Heck. Fuck the shit out of my pussy. Your big cock feels so fucking good. Fuck my pussy. Fuck it hard!" Hearing Brady urging him on, Heck lost it. He really threw it to Brady, violently reaming out the man's hole, his hips battering a tattoo against Brady's muscled buns, fucking him with an animalistic need to cum.

Heck leaned forward so his chest was pressed down hard on Brady's muscled back, the sweat from both their bodies mingling into a single flow. "Oh, yeah, baby. Do it baby," Heck moaned in Brady's ear. "Squeeze that pussy. Make my big cock feel good. Oh, yeah, baby."

Heck snaked his hands around Brady's body and grabbed on to the man muscled shoulders, pulling his entire torso backward in tandem with each violent thrust up Brady's pussy. And then, in a final flurry of piston-like strokes, Heck was there. Screaming like a banshee, he uploaded a massive load of boy-sperm into Brady's spasming hole.

Spurt after spurt of white-hot cum erupted from the teenage dick, scalding and coating the entire length of Brady's ravaged hole. Brady could feel every burst of the kid's hot seed as it spewed forth inside of him. The knowledge that the teenager was cumming inside his pussy together with the incredible battering Heck's erupting cock was delivering to his prostate drove Brady right to the edge of his own orgasm. Right to the edge, but not over. Brady was consumed by the need to shoot, to finally empty his balls. But he couldn't. He needed permission. He needed Heck's permission and Heck hadn't given it.

"Oh, God," he moaned in anguished frustration. He wanted to shoot so bad. He needed to shoot so bad. But he couldn't even ask Heck to give him permission. That was part of the rule. Heck had to think of it himself and the boy obviously hadn't, he'd been too involved in his own orgasm, his own need to shoot. Brady wanted to scream but instead just swallowed another strangled sob.

Inside of him, Brady could feel Heck's magnificent tool losing some of its iron-like hardness and then felt Heck slowly removing his cock from Brady's fucked-out pussy. He heard Heck collapse on the carpet in front of the sofa and then felt a hand grab his waist and pull him on to the floor next to Heck.

Heck reached over a hand and softly caressed Brady's face. "That was fantastic, dude," Heck said in a voice filled with wonderment as if he'd just seen the most beautiful rainbow imaginable. "That was the best fucking sex I've ever had, Brady. The absolute best. Your asshole....excuse me, your pussy is fucking unbelievable."

Heck let his hand drift down to Brady's chest and his fingers softly traced the line under the man's well-developed pecs before coming to rest between Brady's chest and navel. Heck's hand remained there for a couple of minutes before resuming its languid downward-exploration of Brady's body until it came into contact with Brady's rigid dick.

"I can't believe you're still hard, Brady," Heck mused. "You must be one horny little bitch." And then, suddenly, Heck sat straight up and stared at Brady.

"You didn't cum, Brady. You didn't cum," he said in a tone of shocked discovery. And then his face took on a worried look. "Didn't you enjoy it, Brady? Wasn't it good for you? Did I screw up?"

"No, Heck, no," Brady hastened to reassure the boy. "You were wonderful. It felt so fucking good to feel you fucking me. It made me incredibly hot. I actually wished it could go on forever."

"Then why didn't you cum?" Heck asked.

This was the question that Brady had been hoping to hear. "Because you didn't give me permission to cum, Heck," he quietly explained.

"Oh, Jesus," Heck exclaimed, feeling his own face flush with embarrassment. "I forgot. I just forgot. I'm so sorry, Brady. I wanted you to enjoy this as much as me. I just forgot."

"I did enjoy it as much as you, Heck," Brady replied. "I did. I loved the way you felt inside of me. It's just....it's just I really needed to shoot my own load, too."

"I feel terrible, Brady," Heck admitted, locking his luminous blue eyes onto Brady's. "I just feel terrible. Why didn't you say something, though? Why didn't you just let me know that I was fucking up?"

"You didn't fuck up anything, Heck," Brady immediately answered. "Except maybe my pussy and I certainly enjoyed that," he added with a grin. "But I'm not allowed to ask for permission. That's part of the rule, as Dr. Debt explained it to me. The decision to let me cum has to be completely yours with no prodding from me."

"Well, if that's part of the rules that's one thing I can change when I become your master. You'll still need my permission to cum, but you'll never be prohibited from asking for it."

"Thank you, Heck," Brady replied. "Thank you." And then, as Brady considered what Heck had said, another question formed in his mind. "Does...does that mean that you've decided to become my master?" Brady nervously asked.

Heck stared hard at Brady for a long moment. And then a large smile spread across his face. "I guess it does, Brady. I guess it does. I want to be your master." Then, his face returning to a more serious mien he asked, "Do you want to be my bitch, Brady?"

Brady looked up at the fifteen-year-old boy, the boy who had just given him such an incredible fucking. Jen had always claimed he was commitment phobic but now he was about to make the biggest commitment imaginable. "Oh, yes," he answered, "I want to be your bitch, Heck."

"So, how do we do it?" Heck asked. "How do we make it official?"

"I have no idea," Brady admitted. "I guess it's up to us to decide how we do it."

Heck thought for a moment and then leaned over Brady. "Brady," he asked, "do you accept me as your master?"

Brady looked up at young kid, took a deep breath, and answered, "Yes, Heck. I accept you as my master." And then, in his own turn, Brady asked, "Heck, do you take me as your bitch."

Heck, with his eyes boring into Brady answered, "Yes, Brady, I take you as my bitch." And then, without saying another word, Heck lowered his face to Brady's and kissed him. As the soft kiss on the lips slowly metamorphosed into a deep struggle of competing tongues, Heck realized that while he'd already fucked Brady, this was the first time he'd ever kissed him - the first time he ever kissed any man. It felt strange at first, but as that first kiss went on, Heck could tell it was something he would enjoy getting used to.

When they finally broke, Brady looked up at Heck and smiled. "Thank you, master."

"You're welcome, bitch," Heck responded.

Immediately, they began kissing again.

After only five minutes of passionate kissing, Brady could feel Heck's hard dick rubbing against his own. 'The resiliency of youth,' Brady thought to himself. He remembered his own stamina and horniness when he was fifteen and it dawned on him that keeping Heck happy and content was going to be a full-time job. He writhed against Heck's body. When Heck finally broke the kiss and looked questioningly at Brady, Brady simply smiled and said, "I'm ready if you are, master." The master was ready.

The area they'd been making out in was somewhat confined because of the large coffee table so Heck maneuvered Brady over to the area in front of the TV where they'd have more room. It was also where Dr. Debt had fucked Brady a number of times that first night, and Heck's choice of that spot was not unintentional.

Heck had already made up his mind that he wanted to blot out any memory of the man who'd taken Brady's cherry. Part of Heck was in a sense grateful that the man had preceded him since without the conditioning he provided it was probable that Heck and Brady would never have hooked up. But another part resented the fact that Dr. Debt had had the pleasure of initiating Brady into man-on-man sex. Now that Heck was officially Brady's master he felt that it should have been his role. He should have been the one to pop Brady's cherry.

Heck had decided to fuck Brady in every room and on every piece of furniture that Dr. Debt had fucked him. That way, when Brady looked around his apartment, it would always be Heck who Brady would visualize fucking him. So, in the near future, Heck expected to be fucking Brady in the bathroom commode, on the dining room table, in front of the hallway mirror, every place that Dr. Debt had banged his bitch. What he was really looking forward to was fucking Brady against the glass doorway to the balcony, at night, with the balcony light on, so that he could share that experience with Brady, too. That session, however, would have to wait for night so that Brady could experience the full humiliation of being fucked again while total strangers had a ring-side seat.

Right now, Heck wanted to fuck Brady in front of the TV. And he wanted him on his back, so that this time Heck could watch the man's face while he used him like a bitch should be used. As Heck moved into place, Brady spread his legs wide, bracing them with his hands, exposing his freshly-fucked pussy. The hole that Heck now looked down at didn't close as tightly as it had the first time Heck had penetrated it and there was a dollop of Heck's boy-cream bubbling on the edges of Brady's stretched-out rosette, so Heck dispensed with any lubricant. Instead, he positioned the crown of his hard teenage cock right at the entrance of Brady's fuck-chute and then looked at Brady's face so that he could see it react as Heck entered him for a second time.

Slowly, unrelentingly, Heck forced his rigid pole through the weakened barrier and then up into Brady's now slick back passageway. Heck saw Brady give a brief grimace of pain as his sphincter was once again forced to make room for a rampant boy-cock determined to plumb the depths of Brady's pussy. But the grimace was short-lived and was soon replaced by a smile of almost angelic pleasure. "Oh, yes, master," Brady moaned. "That feels so good. You feel so good inside of me. So incredibly good."

Hearing and seeing Brady's reaction, Heck lost no time in getting down to business. He started fucking Brady's sweet hole with a vengeance. It was an incredible experience for Heck, too. The harder he fucked, the more he pounded the man beneath him, the more Brady begged to be fucked harder and deeper.

"Give it to me, master," Brady was begging. "Fuck the living shit out of me. Rape my fucking pussy."

"Oh, you got it, bitch," Heck panted, driving his teenage prick faster and faster, deeper and deeper, pounding the man with all the force he could muster. Heck realized he was fucking Brady just like he'd always wanted to fuck the girls he'd nailed in the past but been afraid to do. Afraid he might hurt them, afraid they might think he was some type of animal.

But with Brady, there was no need for a regulator, no need to worry about whether he could take the pounding he was getting. He had to take it. Brady was Heck's bitch. He had no choice. And what made it even better, even hotter, was that the bitch was fucking loving it. Brady was squirming underneath Heck in the throes of sexual heat, egging him on, literally begging the teenager to bang him harder. If anything, this second fuck was way hotter than the first one they'd just finished.

Heck was leaning over Brady, sweat again beginning to fly off his torso as he rapidly battered the man's muscled ass-cheeks, when his eyes fell upon Brady's nipples, or his 'tits' as Brady called them. Earlier, Heck had thought them a little too large for his taste and he intended to tell Brady to go easy on them and not keep them so swollen and pumped up. But right now, they looked good on his sweaty torso as Brady continued to thrust up his butt to meet every one of Heck's down-strokes. They looked so inviting.

Heck moved his hands to Brady's well-developed pecs, felt the sinuous muscles underneath the smooth, hairless skin, and then stretched his fingers out towards the flaring nipples. 'They do look hot,' Heck thought, as he fingered the man's nubs. And then, more out of curiosity than anything else, he squeezed down hard on both of them.

The effect was electric. Brady emitted a high pitched squeal and thrashed around on the carpet while his entire anal channel spasmodically clamped down on Heck's embedded boner. "Oh, Fuck," Heck moaned, as he felt Brady's hot anal sleeve compressing up and down his bloated shaft. "That feels so fucking unbelievable." Without even thinking, he squeezed Brady's tits again and got the same reaction.

Now, Heck couldn't let go of Brady's tits. He squeezed them over and over again as he resumed his violent pummeling of Brady's spasming boy-pussy. Brady's shrieks slowly merged into one long high-pitched squeal, but a quick look at his crotch made it clear to Heck that it wasn't just pain that was eliciting Brady's reaction. Brady's dick was arching straight up into the air, oozing pre-cum like a leaky faucet. Heck looked up into Brady's eyes which appeared glazed with a mixture of ecstasy and pain.

"Brady," he said softly, but the man seemed not to hear him, lost someplace in his sexual euphoria. "Brady," he repeated more insistently. Slowly Brady's eyes came back into focus and fixed on Heck's face.

"Yes, master," Brady finally answered.

"Brady, you can cum when you want," Heck told him.

"Oh, thank you, master. Thank you," Brady replied gratefully. He was quiet for a few seconds as he absorbed a flurry of violent thrusts up his hole. "Oh, God. You feel so good inside of me," he panted, "you could fuck me forever."

"Don't you worry, bitch," Heck replied. "I'll be fucking your pussy a lot from now on. But if you want to cum, you'd better be quick about it because I'm about to pop out another load of baby-makers up your hole."

"Oh, yes, master," Brady replied, his voice thick with lust. "Cream my fucking hole. Cream my pussy." Brady began grinding his ass against Heck's groin, trying to engulf as much of the boy's rampant fuck-stick as he could. "I'm real close, master," he moaned. "Real close."

"So am I bitch," Heck moaned. "So am I. Shoot that fucking load. I want to see you blow that fucking load while I'm cumming up your pussy."

Their eyes locked into each other as their breathing took on the rapid pattern that usually presages sexual release. Heck again started pulling his hard teen-cock out of Brady's pussy so that only the crown remained inside before plunging back into the root, seemingly forcing its way deeper and deeper into Brady on every thrust. In mere seconds, he began moaning, "I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum."

Hearing this, Brady grabbed his own cock and gave it two hard strokes and then screamed at the top of lungs, "Oh my God. I'm cumming. I'm cumming." A week's worth of cum began to explode from his cock.

Heck looked down just in time to see the first huge spurt of cum shoot out of Brady's slit like a rocket, going over Brady's head and splattering on the carpet behind him. Another spurt followed landing in Brady's hair and a third which splattered all over his face. And then Heck lost track as his own super-aroused tool erupted inside Brady. "Oh, fuck, bitch," Heck snarled as he pummeled Brady's man-twat. "Take it. Take my fucking load."

And then, as his own orgasm took hold, as his balls churned with boy-seed fighting its way to the surface, Heck heard a piercing scream, "What the fuck is going on?"

Brady heard the same scream and his heart almost stopped, right there. 'Oh, fuck no,' Brady thought, even as his own cock continued to pour out its juice. 'No, God. No."

Brady turned his head and there she was. Jen was standing there, looking at the pair of them as they shot their massive loads, a mixture of horror and fury contorting her face.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" she screamed, her eyes fixed on Brady, taking in the cum in his hair and on his face and now coating his entire chest. The cum fresh from his balls. The same balls that hadn't been able to produce a single pearl of cream inside her vagina for the whole last week.

"Is this why you haven't been able to keep it up, Brady?" she asked, her voice dripping with venom. "Because you've been too worn out from having your boyfriend fuck your ass?" At this point in her angry screed she glanced at Heck who had turned to see what the hell was going on. For the first time, Jen took a really good look at the boy.

"Jesus Christ," she exclaimed, looking back to Brady. "Is he even legal?"

"I'm eighteen," Heck quickly answered, covering for Brady.

"Eighteen? Eighteen?" She made the number sound like something obscene. "Oh, that's just great. What have you been doing Brady? Hanging out around high schools, looking for some young kid - some young BOY - to fuck you? You disgust me, Brady."

"Jen," Brady began, still lying on the floor with his legs spread wide around Heck's waist, Heck's hard meat visibly crammed into Brady's stretched-out boyhole, unable to move so long as Heck continued to rest his weight on him, "it's not..."

"Don't even start with me, Brady," she immediately cut him off. "I've had enough of your bullshit. Enough of your bullshit to last me the rest of my life. We're through, you and me. I've had it. I'm going to go pack a bag and stay with Emily tonight. You can stay here and let your little boyfriend fuck you till the sun comes up for all I care." And with that, she stormed off to the bedroom.

Five minutes later she was back, a red suitcase firmly in hand. Her fury was gone; now it was all ice and disdain. Brady and Heck had uncoupled and, at Heck's direction, they were both sitting on the couch. Brady stood up, but Jen forestalled him with a wave of her hand.

"Don't bother," she said. And then she calmly looked at Brady and let him have it, with both barrels. "You know Brady, it's bad enough that I catch you cheating on me. We were supposed to be in a monogamous relationship. And it's even worse that I catch you cheating with a guy - excuse me - a boy, an eighteen-year-old boy. But what really burns me, what really hurts, is that after three years of us living together, you didn't have the balls or the consideration to tell me that you're gay. Instead, you let me believe that maybe somehow it was my fault that you could no longer function as a man - as a real man. Well," she laughed grimly, "we all know that's not true. The reason you couldn't function as a real man is clear, Brady. It's because you're not a real man - and being gay has nothing to do with it."

"As far as you're concerned," she added, turning to Heck, "I don't know what you see in him" - pointing at Brady - "but you're a good-looking young kid. You could do a lot better. Get yourself a real man."

She took a few steps towards the door and then stopped. "I'll be back on Monday to pick up the rest of my things. I'd appreciate it, Brady, if you'd have the decency not to be around. I don't ever want to see you again." Without another word, she left the apartment.

As she left, Brady crumpled to the floor, clearly distraught. It felt as if three years and the closest relationship he had ever had with another human being had been brutally ripped from his life. He felt the pain of loss but even more keenly he felt an overwhelming sense of guilt for what had happened.

He may not have misled Jen about being gay. After all, it was only now, after his session with Heck, that Brady was himself finally beginning to understand that he might be gay. But he hadn't been honest with her, either.

He hadn't told her what he'd done with Dr. Debt or, more importantly, what Dr. Debt had done to him, so there'd been no possible way for Brady to explain what had been happening to him over the past week. Instead, he'd invented one lie after another to explain what was going on until his entire relationship with Jen was only being maintained by his lies. It was bound to come tumbling down.

And it was his failure to be honest that had directly led to the horrible scene in their apartment - his apartment now. Brady could see now, in the clarity of hindsight, that his relationship with Jen could never have survived being Heck's bitch. But if he hadn't lied, hadn't obscured the truth, it might have been possible to end his relationship with Jen on a classy note, one that would have left her pride and his honor intact. But Brady's lies had precluded that type of resolution for both of them.

All these thoughts and second-guessings roiled around in Brady's mind as the tears just seeped out in a seemingly endless stream. But everything in life is finite and eventually Brady's tears just dried up. Brady lay huddled on the floor for a few more minutes and then looked up at Heck who had waited patiently on the sofa, occasionally rubbing Brady's back, but saying nothing.

"You know, Heck," Brady sighed. "She's right. You could do so much better than me. So much better."

"Brady," Heck began, not sure what he should say. "I'm sorry about what happened. I really am. And I can tell you feel real bad about it. But, as my mom says, what's done is done. Maybe you could have done stuff differently. Maybe you did screw up. But I already know you well enough to know that regardless of what you did, you never meant to hurt your girlfriend. That shit just happened. That Dr. Debt guy really fucked you up. If anyone's to blame, it's him."

There was a slight pause. And then Heck went on. "And there's one other thing I know your girlfriend is wrong about. I know I couldn't do better than you. You're the best cocksucker I've ever met and that last fuck was hotter than any I've ever had with one of my girlfriends. I'm glad you're now my bitch, Brady. I really am."

Brady just sat there for a moment, thinking about what Heck was saying. From straight boyfriend to male bitch, that pretty accurately described Brady's trajectory over the past ten days. 'Well,' Brady thought, 'at least I'm good as a bitch; I obviously wasn't so hot as a boyfriend.' Looking up at Heck, Brady smiled ruefully, "I'm glad I'm your bitch, too, Heck."

Heck returned Brady's gaze. Brady was beginning to recover from the nasty scene that had just played out but Heck thought what Brady needed right now was something to take his mind off his troubles, and Heck thought he knew just the thing to do it. Affecting a leer, Heck suggested, "What say we get back to business. My cock could use a little lovin' right now."

Brady looked down at Heck's lap to see his teenage cock was once again fully engorged. 'Jesus,' Brady thought, 'this kid is horny all the time.' "I don't know, Heck," Brady responded, "I'm not really in the mood."

Heck's eyes narrowed. "I don't remember asking you if you were in the mood, bitch. What I said was that my cock needs some lovin' so you just get your bitch mouth working on it right now or I'll tan your ass for you again."

"Yes, master," Brady immediately replied, yanked back to his present reality. "I'm sorry, master." He bent over and took Heck's cock into his mouth, aware that it was now coated with a mixture of dried cum and Brady's own anal juices. He had tasted this mixture before during his session with Dr. Debt and had found it repulsive but this time Heck's sweet cum had even moderated the taste of Brady's anal slime and Brady avidly slurped the coating off Heck's cock. Once the teenager's cock was clean, Brady moved on to blowing the boy and very soon he was lost in the pleasure of sucking on Heck's hot teen-boy prick.

Heck kept Brady busy for the rest of Saturday. He hadn't been planning on spending the night but he thought it might be good for Brady if he did. So he called his mom and told her he'd be staying at Randy's house for the night. Randy was his best bud and he'd stayed over at his house a number of times in the past. Just to be on the safe side, he also called Randy. He told Randy that he had a chance to nail some 'hot tail' and he needed Randy to cover for him. Randy had laughed and quickly agreed. All he asked was that when Heck was done with the bitch, that he'd introduce her to the rest of the crew. Heck readily agreed.

Heck felt bad about lying to his mom, not that it had been the first time he'd done just that. But at least he hadn't lied to his 'bro' Randy. He was nailing some hot tail - Brady had a fucking beautiful butt. And, once he'd properly broke Brady in, he fully intended to share his bitch with the guys. Well, at least Brady's mouth. He thought he might keep Brady's pussy for himself - at least for now.

They were lying in the bed later that night, spoon-style, with Heck's boy-cock buried deep up Brady's hole where it had just deposited yet another big load of stud-boy seed, when Heck brought up something that had been nagging at him a good part of the day.

"Brady," he began.

"Yes, master," the man replied.

"I want to talk to you about that," Heck answered.

"About what, master," Brady asked, not understanding.

"About calling me 'master' all the time, Brady," Heck responded with some heat. Brady turned to look at him with obvious apprehension.

"Look, Brady, I am your master and I fully intend to remain your master. That's not what I'm talking about. I like being your master and I like having you as my bitch. It's just that what I don't like is you constantly calling me 'master.' It kinda grates on me - makes me feel like I'm some old fuck or something. I'd rather you call me just 'Heck' or even 'sir,' though I didn't like that much either the first time you used it."

Brady looked a little crestfallen but he immediately replied, "Whatever you say, ma...sir, I'll do. But just so you'll know, sir, I like calling you 'master.' It kind of grounds my life - I am your bitch now and you are my master. But I'll do whatever you want, ...sir."

Heck looked at Brady, surprised by his response, surprised that a twenty-five-year-old man would want to call a fifteen-year-old kid his 'master.' Whatever that Dr. Debt had done, it had really been effective. It was clear that Brady now saw himself as Heck's bitch and just knowing that gave Heck a real tingly sensation in his groin.

"Look, Brady," Heck began again, "I'm willing to make a deal with you. Whenever I first arrive at the apartment you can greet me as 'master,' and whenever there's something serious you want to talk to me about you can use 'master,' too. But other than that, when I ask you a question I don't want to keep hearing 'master' at the end of every answer. Just use 'sir' or 'Heck.' Okay?"

"Yes, sir," Brady quickly responded, happy with the compromise. "That's fine, sir."

"And one other thing, Brady," Heck cautioned. "When we're with other people outside of the apartment, I want you to call me 'Heck,' unless I tell you differently. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir. I understand, sir."

"Good," Heck replied. The tingly sensation had progressed to a full-blown hard-on. "Now roll over on your back, bitch," he directed with a smirk. "Why don't you show me again how much you like being your master's bitch."

"Yes, sir!" Brady responded with a broad smile as he maneuvered himself back into position, ignoring the soreness of his well-used pussy, again impressed by the insatiable nature of Heck's lust. Brady had always thought that he had been a horny stud-puppy when he was a teenager, but his fifteen-year-old master was showing him just what horniness really was. It was obvious that a lack of sex was not going to be a problem in this relationship.

When Brady woke the next morning around 8:00 a.m., he went through a moment of disorientation. After all, it had been over a week since he'd awakened in a bed. But the sensation of Heck's hard cock still buried up his pussy quickly brought Brady back to the present. He squeezed down on the boy's still-tumescent bone and was rewarded by a groan from Heck. Heck opened his eyes just a slit and looked at Brady. "Still rarin' to go, huh, bitch?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," Brady responded, surprised himself that after all the action his pussy had seen the night before, it still wanted some more.

"Well, you'll have to wait, bitch. I've got to get some shut-eye. Wake me in a couple of hours and I'll give your pussy another banging - you horny bastard."

"Yes, sir," Brady answered, only a little disappointed. He snuggled his body backwards until it was just touching Heck's, who responded by throwing an arm around Brady and hugging him tightly to him. Slowly, feeling protected and contented, Brady drifted back off to sleep.

It was close to noon when they finally got out of bed. They'd both been awake by 11:00 a.m., but by that time Heck was 'rarin' to go,' too, so it wasn't until after he'd dropped two more big loads up Brady's leaking pussy that they made it out of bed and headed to the shower.

While Heck had showered with other dudes before, he'd never been in a situation where the other dude had soaped his back and crotch and then ate out his hole for him. Not surprisingly, the shower ended with Brady getting his hole reamed out yet again.

They took a break in order to eat, which was something they had neglected to do the previous night. After preparing bacon, eggs, and toast and placing a plate before Heck, who was sitting at the dining room table, Brady was uncertain what he should do with the plate he'd prepared for himself. Heck noticed Brady's hesitation and gestured that he should put it down in front of the chair next to him. Brady did as directed but then just stood there awkwardly.

Heck had already begun eating and he was chewing on some toast when he noticed Brady was still standing. And then it hit him - his bitch couldn't sit on furniture without Heck's permission. 'Goddammit,' he thought, 'if it isn't one thing, it's another.' In between bites, he ordered Brady to sit down and eat his breakfast.

Heck then turned his attention back to his meal. He hadn't realized how ravenous he was until he'd started eating. He polished it off in no time and then sent Brady back to the kitchen to prepare another plate. He spent more time finishing off his second serving, which allowed him to actually enjoy the taste of the breakfast Brady had prepared. When he was finished, Heck pushed back his chair and looked over at Brady who was still eating.

Brady felt Heck's eyes on him. He looked over and saw that Heck had finished eating. Brady immediately began scarfing down his own breakfast, not wanting to have Heck wait on him. Heck saw what he was doing and laughed out loud. "Take your time, boy," he said. "Take your time. I'm in no hurry."

"Yes, sir," Brady mumbled with food in his mouth, scarcely slowing down. Regardless of what Heck said, Brady didn't want to keep his master waiting.

A minute later, Brady's plate was as clean as Heck's. Brady moved to push his chair back so he could clean the table but Heck tersely ordered, "Just sit there for a minute, boy."

Heck sat there looking over the twenty-five-year-old man who was now his bitch. Heck realized that he had started referring to Brady as a 'boy,' and looking at him now, it seemed appropriate. With his submissive demeanor, his total nudity, the complete lack of body hair, Brady did seem like a boy. And he was a boy - he was Heck's boy. Which meant that Heck was now the man. And as the man, it was up to Heck to set the rules.

"On your knees, bitch," he suddenly ordered.

Brady immediately dropped to the floor, facing him.

"I want you to listen closely to me now, bitch, because I'm talking to you as your master."

Brady noticeably stiffened, his posture becoming rigidly erect. He also took his hands and placed them behind his head, spreading his elbows wide apart. "Yes, master," Brady responded, his eyes locked on to Heck. "I'm listening."

Heck had no idea why Brady had placed his hands behind his head. It certainly wasn't something Heck had ordered. But as he looked at Brady kneeling before him, he realized that he liked it. The position Brady had assumed simultaneously displayed his impressive musculature and at the same time showed Brady's total subservience to Heck. Heck could feel his teenage cock stirring again. But this time, it would have to wait. There was something else Heck wanted to take care of.

"Okay, Brady," he started. "I think it's time we review the rules that now guide your life. Begin."

Switching into his conditioned mode, Brady began reciting, "Mr. Bitch-Maker's Nine Rules for Male Bitches."

"No," Heck stopped him. "Make that 'Master Heck's Nine Rules for His Male Bitch.'" Now begin again.

"Yes, master," Brady replied. "Master Heck's Nine Rules for His Male Bitch. Rule No. 1. A bitch always does what his master orders him to do." Brady was about to continue when Heck interrupted him again.

"Rule No. 1 is fine, Brady," he said, "but I want you to understand something. If I order you to do something that you think might create problems for either of us, I expect you to bring this to my attention. You're a lot older than I am and I think you might be able to help me make better decisions. The final decision, though, will always be mine. Do you understand?"

"Yes, master," Brady dutifully replied.

"Continue," Heck ordered.

Brady began again. "Master Heck's..."

"No," Heck again interrupted. "We don't have all day. Just start from where you left off."

"Yes, master," Brady agreed. "Rule No. 2. A bitch's body is always hairless and smooth." Brady waited a moment to give Heck a chance to interrupt but when he didn't Brady moved on. "Rule No. 3. A bitch is always naked at home and never attempts to cover himself." Brady paused again, but once again Heck had no comments. This time, however, Brady spoke up.

"Master," he began. "I was wondering if the rule applied when my mother, my sister, and my older brother are visiting."

Heck laughed. "That would be embarrassing, having your mother and your sister seeing you all naked and hairless, wouldn't it, bitch?" He thought for a moment, toying with the idea of forcing Brady to bare all when his mother was there. It would be hot to force his boy to do that, but he decided to leave Brady with a few shreds of self-respect. "When either your mother or your sister is present, Brady, you may wear running shorts. Nothing else, but you may wear running shorts. When it's just your older brother, though, you'll give him the whole show. Let him see what a little bitch his younger brother has become. Do you understand?"

"Yes, master. Thank you, master."

"Continue."

"Rule No. 4. A bitch never sits on furniture at home and always sleeps on the floor." There was another slight pause, but hearing no comments, Brady moved on. "Rule No. 5. A bitch never wears underwear when he goes out and never hides an erection."

"Okay, stop right there," Heck said. "I'm going to change that rule so that you will wear underwear while you're at work and you'll wear a jock while you're working out at the gym. But the modification applies only at work and while working out. When you get dressed for work in the morning you are to put a pair of briefs - briefs, Brady, not boxers - in your pocket. When you arrive at work you will go in the bathroom and put the briefs on. When your workday is finished, you'll return to the bathroom and remove the briefs. Similarly, you will put the jock on right before you begin your workout and you will remove it once your workout is completed. But, other than these two exceptions, no underwear - and no hiding an erection. Do you understand, bitch?

"Yes, master. Thank you master."

"Then continue."

"Rule No. 6. A bitch keeps his body in shape and his tits plumped up."

"Okay, Brady," Heck stopped him. "I want to modify that rule. 'A bitch keeps his body completely tanned and in shape and his tits plumped up.' You look good tanned but I don't like those tan lines on your body. From now on, whenever you're home alone and it's a sunny day I expect you to get at least two hours in the sun on your balcony. Your balcony is part of your apartment so the nudity and no covering up rules apply. Do you understand?"

"Yes, master," Brady agreed. "But master, my neighbors..."

Heck cut him off. "Your neighbors have already been exposed to your activities and I'm sure they'll see more in the upcoming weeks. They already know what you are, bitch. There's no need to worry about what they think."

"Yes, master," Brady quietly agreed. This was a turn of events Brady hadn't planned on and he certainly wasn't looking forward to displaying his naked, hairless body for his neighbors' sick amusement. But, if that's what his master wanted, that was what he had to do. He forced himself to repeat the revised version of Rule No. 6 and then was about to move on when Heck interrupted him again.

"One more thing, bitch," Heck began. "About your tits. They're a little bit large for my taste but I do appreciate how sensitive they've become. So for now, you can keep your tits their present size - but no larger."

"Yes, master. I'll remember that," Brady answered. Then, seeing that Heck had finished, Brady moved on.

"Rule No. 7. A bitch's body is public property and is always available for use by others." Brady scarcely had that rule out of his mouth before Heck was talking.

"That's one rule I'm definitely changing," Heck announced. "Henceforth, Rule No. 7 is 'A bitch's body is his master's property and, while others may look at it and admire it, only his master has the right to use it in any way.' I don't want anyone touching or playing around with your body, bitch, unless I tell you it's okay. Do you understand?"

"Yes, master," Brady agreed. "My body is your personal property now and it's my responsibility to make sure that nobody uses your property without your permission. I understand, master."

"Fine," Heck replied. "So if some guy comes up to you in the showers, or anywhere else for that matter, and tries to put the make on you, you just politely tell them that your master doesn't allow it. They can look all they want, but no touching. Now repeat the new rule."

"Rule No. 7. A bitch's body is his master's property and, while others may look at it and admire it, only his master has the right to use it in any way." Brady paused and then added, "Thank you, master, for Rule No. 7." Brady realized that this revised rule would make his life much easier at the gym.

"Go on, bitch," Heck ordered.

"Rule No. 8. A bitch maintains an erection in the presence of a superior but never cums without permission."

"Okay, boy," Heck interjected. "I'm going to change 'a superior' to 'his master' but I'm going to keep the rest of the wording. But as I told you earlier, when I'm fucking your pussy, you can ask for permission to cum. I won't always grant it, but you can ask."

"Thank you, master," Brady replied. He then repeated the revised rule and moved on to Rule No. 9. 'A bitch never, ever tops.'

"No need any more to modify that rule, I guess," Heck noted. He looked at Brady kneeling so docilely in front of him, so calmly accepting his new role in life - his role as Heck's bitch. "Okay, Brady," he said, "Repeat the rules for me."

Showing absolutely no surprise and not the slightest hesitation, Brady proceeded to go through all nine rules, as Heck had revised them, without a single mistake. But, listening to Brady go through them, Heck realized he wanted to make one more revision.

"Brady," he said, "I'm going to make one more change. In Rule 4, you are to sleep on the floor if I'm not present, but if I'm in bed with you, I want you to stay in bed while we're sleeping unless I tell you otherwise. I don't want to have to go looking for you on the floor when I get the urge to bang your pussy again."

Hearing this, Brady smiled. "Well, master, you could revise the rule to read 'a bitch never sits on furniture at home and, when alone, always sleeps on the floor.'"

Heck thought about this for a minute. "I don't know, bitch. It seems to permit you to sleep on the bed when you're sleeping with anyone else."

"Master," Brady reassured him. "Now that Jen is leaving, you're the only one I'll ever be sleeping with. Well, you or someone you've told me to sleep with. And it might be awkward for one of your friends to have to go looking for me at night when he has the urge to use me again."

Now, it was Heck's turn to smile. "You're right, bitch. You're right. Consider Rule No. 4 revised the way you suggested."

"Yes, master. Do you want me to repeat the rules, master." Brady asked.

"No, that's okay," Heck assured his bitch. "I'm confident you have them down. Just one last thing though. These are the general rules that now control your life, bitch. But these are my rules and I have the right to alter or change them as I see fit. You do understand that, don't you bitch?"

"Absolutely, master," Brady agreed.

"Fine," Heck replied. He leaned back in his chair. "Stand up, Brady," he directed.

Brady got to his feet. "The formalities are now over, Brady," he told his bitch, "and I don't want to hear another 'master' for the rest of the afternoon. Okay?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you have any cigarettes around?" Heck inquired.

"Sorry, sir," Brady replied. "I don't smoke and neither does Jen."

Heck frowned slightly. "Well, I do and I sure could use one right now. In the future, make sure you have cigarettes in the apartment."

"Yes, sir," Brady answered, hoping he was hiding his distaste for the smell of cigarette smoke. "I could go out and get you a pack of cigarettes right now if you want."

Heck shook his head. "No, bitch," he replied. "I've got to be heading home in a couple of hours and I've got better ways to spend my time till then - like fucking your pussy again. Just make sure you have a carton in here by Tuesday."

"Yes, sir," Brady agreed. "Any specific brand."

"Yeah. I prefer L&M."

Brady wasn't sure he'd ever even heard of that brand before but he made a mental note to pick up a carton Monday on his way home from work.

"Go find my shorts, Brady," Heck ordered.

It took a moment for Brady to locate them behind the couch where they'd ended up. "Now go get some sun-tan lotion," he ordered, when Brady handed him the shorts. "We're going to go get some rays and you don't want to burn any sensitive parts now, do you?"

"No, sir," Brady mumbled, feeling himself beginning to blush. It was a sunny day and all he could hope for was that it wasn't too crowded on the nearby balconies. But, judging from the noise he heard as Heck opened the sliding door, there was going to be a big audience for Brady's latest bout with public humiliation.

By the time Heck left later that afternoon, he'd managed to pump three more loads up Brady's pussy, including one load he deposited while Brady was stretched out on the balcony. There were a few wolf-whistles when the two of them finally retreated back inside the apartment so Brady had to assume that their coupling had not gone completely unnoticed.

Just before he left, Brady asked Heck when he'd see him again. Heck said his mom always liked it if he spent Sunday evenings with her at home. He also informed Brady that he had a date with 'a hot chick' on Monday. But he told Brady he'd be seeing him on Tuesday night and to keep Thursday and Friday nights open as well. And he ordered Brady to get the apartment cleaned up by then. 'It's a fucking mess,' Heck complained, ignoring the fact that his unrelenting assault on Brady's pussy was the reason the apartment was so trashed.

Heck had no sooner closed the door than Brady found himself cleaning the apartment. The place really seemed empty without his master there and cleaning helped Brady pass the time. By the time Monday morning rolled around, the place was sparkling.

When Brady got home from work that Monday, he saw that Jen had obviously been there. She'd taken all of her clothes and a number of smaller items she had purchased. She'd also removed every picture of the two of them. Brady was surprised that she'd wanted those. Later that evening, though, as he was cleaning up after dinner, he realized that she had taken the pictures. They were all there, in his kitchen garbage can; every one cut into small pieces. Brady felt bad about that.

Tuesday, however, found Brady in a much better mood. Heck was coming by at 6:00 p.m. and Brady could hardly wait. He actually left work early and by 5:30 p.m., he was showered, shaved, and douched and nervously pacing his apartment, just waiting for Heck to knock on the door. For once, though, the event lived up to the anticipation and Brady found his pussy stuffed with Heck's hard teen-boy cock almost from the moment the boy arrived right up until he left four hours later. That night, as he lay on the floor at the foot of his bed, Brady relived the evening's adventures over and over again. He woke up incredibly horny but with a big smile on his face.

Thursday was just as good and Friday Heck spent the night again. By the time Heck left late Saturday afternoon, he had finally succeeded in fucking Brady everywhere in the apartment that Dr. Debt had nailed him, fucking him against the balcony door late Friday night, to an appreciative round of applause from a number of Brady's neighbors, and then fucking Brady with his ass soaking in the commode before showering on Saturday morning. It was not unlike the way a big cat marks off his territory although Heck did it with spunk rather than piss. With that mission completed, Heck felt that Brady was now, truly, his bitch.

Heck was going out with the girl from school again on Saturday night, so Brady faced another long period alone. He had already fallen asleep on the bedroom floor when he heard a pounding on the door, which he groggily hurried to answer. Not having any idea who was there, he cautiously cracked the door a bit only to hear Heck's voice ordering him to "Open the door, bitch."

"Master," Brady exclaimed, opening the door wide.

"Cut that crap, bitch," Heck snarled, pushing Brady backwards and slamming the door behind himself. Brady could smell the liquor on the teenager.

"That fucking cunt," Heck swore. "That goddamn fucking cunt. She gets me all hot and horny and then she doesn't want to put out. She'll give me a hand-job, she says. A fucking hand-job. I can give myself a fucking hand-job if that's what I want. What I want to do is fuck her pussy and have her swallow my rod. 'Oh, I don't do things like that. I'm not that type of girl.' Fuck that shit. Fucking prick-tease. I don't need that shit. Not when I got me a fucking bitch who'll do anything I want. Ain't that right, bitch? Ain't that right?"

"Yes, sir," Brady responded, not sure what he should do.

"Well, what the fuck are you waiting for, bitch? On your knees. Now, you fucking cocksucker. Get your faggot mouth working on my hard dick. What do you need, a fucking invitation? Suck my cock, bitch."

"Yes, sir," Brady said, immediately dropping to his knees and raising his hands to open Heck's belt.

Above him, Heck wobbled a little. Brady got Heck's skinny jeans off his hips and lowered his boxers. The boy's cock sprang out, hard as a rail. Bending forward, Brady slowly eased the whole thing into his mouth and down his throat.

"Oh, yeah, bitch," Heck exclaimed. "That's what I mean. Suck that dick, you fucking faggot."

Brady really went to work on Heck's cock and was soon rewarded with a huge infusion of hot boy-sperm down his throat. "Oh, yeah, bitch," Heck moaned as his outflow diminished to random spurts. "Nobody sucks cock like a faggot."

Brady kept Heck's cock in his mouth, gently sucking on it, until he suddenly felt Heck yanking up on his hair. "On your feet, bitch. That was good for starters, but now I want to fuck your pussy. So get your faggot boy-twat into the bedroom."

Without a word, Brady got to his feet and led the way to the bedroom. It took a few minutes to extricate Heck from his skinny jeans, even with Brady helping, but the moment he got them off, Heck roughly pushed Brady on to the bed and rolled him onto his stomach. And then Heck started banging the living shit out of him.

Brady lost count of how many times Heck fucked him that night. It had to be close to half a dozen. One after the other. Heck would cum in a frenzy of hard slaps and a torrent of verbal abuse and then collapse on top of Brady's back only to start plugging away again five or ten minutes later. Finally, about 4:00 a.m., he just passed out, his cock still wedged deeply up Brady's well-worn fuckhole.

Brady lay underneath Heck, his own hard and unmilked cock crushed beneath his shaven stomach. It had been a rough night, though there were times when Heck was just pounding away at him non-stop that Brady had actually enjoyed it. But, by and large, it hadn't been a particularly pleasant evening.

Heck obviously was not a great drunk. 'But,' Brady told himself, 'that's just the way it goes.' He had to take the bad with the good. He didn't have any choice. He was Heck's bitch now and if Heck wanted to go out and get drunk and them come back and take it out on Brady, then Brady would just have to suck it up, literally as well as figuratively..

It wasn't comfortable with Heck's body-weight resting completely on him but, eventually, Brady managed to drift off to sleep.

Around ten in the morning, Brady felt a rustling next to him in the bed. And then he was aware that Heck's weight was no longer pressing down on him. He looked to his side to see Heck looking at him. He looked upset.

"Good morning, sir," Brady began.

Heck put a finger on Brady's lips. "Don't say anything, baby," he said. And then he started to talk.

"I am so sorry about last night. I obviously have trouble holding my booze but that shouldn't become your problem. I was angry at Maria and I took it out on you - because I could. And that was wrong. What was even worse was that you couldn't even defend yourself. And I knew that. You just had to lay there and take whatever I did to you. And that worries me.

"I'm only a kid, Brady. I'm only fifteen years old. I don't know shit about being an adult, much less some other dude's 'master.' And I'm afraid that if I go out and get drunk again - or fucked up on some drug - I might really hurt you or do something else that could really screw up your life or even my own. And I don't want to do that."

"It's okay, Heck," Brady tried to soothe, but Heck cut him off.

"It's not okay, Brady. Lying here, watching you sleep, it finally hit me that being your master doesn't just mean that I get to fuck you and have you blow me when I want. It also means that I've taken on a responsibility for you as well. And I'm not even good at taking responsibility for myself much less than for someone else - someone I'm beginning to care about. And I am....beginning to care about you, Brady, though you wouldn't know it from the way I treated you last night.

"I need your help, Brady. I need you to help me become responsible, both for myself as well as for you. You're an adult, man. You're not a kid like me. You can tell me when I'm screwing up or doing something stupid. And you can stop me. I'm in good shape, Brady, but you're stronger than me. We both know that. And that's what I want you to do. If I come in here drunk or all screwed up and start doing stuff that you know I shouldn't do, I want you to stop me, Brady. Physically, if you have to."

"Jesus, Heck," Brady answered. "I don't know about that."

For the first time that morning, Heck smiled. "Well, I do. And that's one of the good things about being the master. I get to make the decisions. So, Brady, I'm ordering you, as your master, that if you ever think that I'm about to do something that will physically injure you or result in real problems for either of us, you are to stop me, using force if you have to. Do you understand?"

"Yes, master," Brady replied. "I understand."

"Good," Heck answered, looking as if some large burden had been lifted from him. "And now, get over here, bitch. I wanna fuck you one more time and then I've got to get home. My mom's gonna throw a shit-fit when she finds out I was out all night."

Brady scooted over to Heck who surprised him by leaning forward and kissing him deeply. As Heck did so, his hand grabbed Brady's bloated dick.

"Shit, bitch," Heck laughed, "you're sure as hell primed."

"Well," Brady hesitantly began to explain, but Heck had figured it out.

"I didn't let you cum last night, did I?"

"No, sir," Brady admitted.

"You see, Brady," Heck sighed. "I really am a shitty master."

"Oh no, sir," Brady disagreed. "You're a good master. You really are. And I think you're going to become a great master. And I'm really glad that I'm your bitch, sir. I mean that."

"Well, the least I can do is help you take care of this," Heck answered, squeezing Brady's bone and causing him to moan with pleasure. "What do you want me to do."

"I want you to fuck me, sir," Brady immediately answered. "On my back, so I can watch you pound the shit out of my bitch pussy, sir."

"I think that can be arranged, bitch," Heck chuckled, as he picked up Brady's legs and positioned them on his shoulders. He positioned his hard teen-cock at the edge of Brady's rosette and then, in one fluid movement, buried his boner all the way inside.

"Oh, God, it feels so good to feel you inside of me, sir," Brady whimpered. "So fucking good."

"And a good fucking is what you're about to get," Heck promised as he leaned forward and kissed Brady on the lips even as he began ramming his rigid tool in and out of Brady's grasping hole. And then the two of them really went at it.

It was a little after 2:00 p.m. when Brady woke up for the second time that day. He was a little unsettled to find himself alone in his bed but then he remembered that, right before he headed home, Heck ordered him to stay there and get some sleep. Now that he was awake, Brady decided to luxuriate a little on the soft mattress. He knew once he got up the rules would kick in and it'd be back to the floor and carpet for him until Heck came by on Tuesday. And, even though it now felt totally natural for him to be sleeping on the floor, Brady had to admit it was definitely more comfortable to be lying in a bed.

Almost unconsciously, Brady's hands moved up to his tits and began tweaking them. They didn't take nearly as much work now to keep them nice and big, but Brady had come to enjoy playing with his own tits. He just had to make sure he didn't overdo it because Heck had made it clear he didn't want them to get any larger.

As he gently squeezed his swollen nips, Brady notice that the right nipple was encrusted with dried cum, the remnants of the copious orgasm he'd had during Heck's last fuck. Brady wasn't cumming anywhere near as frequently as he did before Dr. Debt had turned him into a male bitch but when he did the amount of cum that came spewing out of his cock was something to behold.

Brady stayed in bed a few minutes longer, idly stroking his hardening cock, remembering that last fuck he and Heck had shared, the way Heck had bent down and made out within him while he was ravaging Brady's pussy. It had felt so hot, so fucking hot, to have that studly teenage boy kissing him and fucking him at the same time. Not just fucking him - making love to him. He couldn't remember ever having been so aroused, so turned on, in his entire life. Just thinking about it was almost enough to get him to cum right now.

With a start, he let go of his slick cock like it was a hot iron. 'Fuck me,' he thought. 'That was close.' He had already discovered that Heck enjoyed spanking him, enjoyed disciplining Brady like he was a little boy. And, like a little boy, Brady was always in tears when Heck was finished with him, embarrassed both by his reaction to the pain of the assault on his butt as well as the hard erection that was inevitably shooting up from Brady's crotch when he finally crawled off Heck's lap.

But those were bare-handed spankings. Last week, Heck had ordered Brady to go out to an adult sex store and stock up on a number of items Heck had seen on the internet. Some of the items Brady had never even seen before, like the ball-spreader and the cock-cage. Some he had experienced with Dr. Debt, like the butt-plug and the ball-gag. But included with those items was a wooden paddle with holes in it. Brady asked the salesman about the holes, and he was told that the holes decreased drag during the swing and lessened any air cushion. "Really stings like hell, is what I've heard."

When Brady showed Heck the purchases he'd made, the boy had told Brady that the paddle was for those sessions in which he needed to be punished. Brady remembered how much it had hurt when Dr. Debt used a regular paddle on him - he sure wasn't anxious to try out a paddle with holes in it. While he could play with himself as much as he wanted, Brady was absolutely prohibited from cumming without Heck's permission. And he had almost done just that. And, if he had, Brady was sure that Heck would have been more than happy to punish him for that infraction. Brady wanted to avoid a spanking session with the paddle as long as he could.

'It's going to be another cold shower, today,' Brady thought as he looked down at his fully erect cock, literally pulsing before his eyes, just at the edge of orgasm. He'd been taking a lot of those lately. Both at home and at the gym.

He was just sitting up when his phone buzzed. 'Jesus,' he thought, 'it's like Heck can read my fucking mind.' He picked it up and slid his finger across the screen to answer without even thinking. "Hey," he said.

"How you doing, bitch," a gruff voice responded.

Brady's heart skipped a beat and then started pounding in his chest. "I'm fine....sir," he finally answered.

"Your girlfriend around?" the voice inquired.

"No, sir, she's not," Brady answered, wanting to hang up but somehow unable. "Jen moved out."

"Not surprised, bitch," the man responded, the amusement obvious in his voice. "Guess she didn't much like having a faggot for a boyfriend. That right, bitch?"

"Yes, sir," Brady quietly responded.

"You been keeping your body shaved, bitch?" the man asked. "Obeying your rules like a good bitch?"

"Yes, sir," Brady admitted.

"Good. Now, bitch, I want you to go give yourself a good douche. I'll be over there in about half-an-hour. Mr. Bitch-Maker wants to give your pussy another good workout. If you do a good enough job I just might let you drain those little boy-balls of yours. Must be pretty full after two weeks."

Brady heaved an audible sigh of relief. "I'm sorry, sir," he replied. "But I can't do that."

There was a long pause. "Excuse me," Dr. Debt said, the menace clear in his voice. "What can't you do?"

"I can't have sex with you, sir. That would violate Rule No. 7."

"Bitch, Rule No. 7 says your body is public property and always available for use by others. And I intend to use it today, so cut your crap."

"Sorry, sir, but that's the old Rule No. 7. My master revised it and my body is now my master's private property and only available for use by those he personally okays. He hasn't approved you so I can't have sex with you. Sir."

There was another long pause. Then, almost shouting, Dr. Debt snarled. "What the fuck are you talking about, bitch? I'm your master."

"No, you're not, sir," Brady responded with force, gaining confidence the longer this conversation continued. "You were my master two weeks ago, but that was only for six hours. Since then, I've acquired a permanent master and he's revised my rules and they clearly provide that I am not allowed to have sex with anyone other than my master unless he personally orders me to. And he hasn't. So I can't have sex with you."

"Now you listen to me, bitch," Dr. Debt started.

Brady cut him off. "I'm sorry, sir, but I've said all I'm allowed to say and I'm going to have to end this conversation. Goodbye, sir." And with that, he clicked off his phone.

Brady sat on his bed, breathing heavily, trying to calm down. It took him awhile, but he finally succeeded. And what he felt was an enormous sense of relief and gratitude. Relief that he was no longer in thrall to that asshole Dr. Debt and gratitude towards Heck for not only agreeing to be his master but for being smart enough to change Brady's programming so that he could refuse to service that disgusting man. 'Thank you, Heck. Thank you, master. Thank you, thank you, thank you," he said aloud. 'I am so lucky,' he said to himself as he finally got out of bed. 'So lucky.'

Brady took a quick look at the bed and saw how disheveled and stained the sheets on the bed were. He'd have to do a load of laundry after he showered. And then he was going to go out on the balcony and work on his tan. He no longer cared if any of his neighbors saw him naked. Heck wanted him to have an all-over tan and that's what he was going to get. He was Heck's bitch now, thank God, and anything that boy wanted Brady was going to do his utmost to provide. He was bound and determined to make his new master - his only real master - happy. He might now be the bitch for a fifteen-year-old master but Brady thought he was probably the luckiest guy on the planet.

The reaction on the other end of the line was much different. Dr. Debt sat there looking at his phone for almost half a minute. Then he slammed it down. "Motherfuck!" he exclaimed.

The man was furious. He had spent $12,000 and used all the experience twenty years in the business had given him to set that bitch Brady up, to program him so that when the good doctor came calling in the future and sent him to work the streets or the strip clubs - he would have sent Brady to the streets, he was strong enough to protect himself - the bitch wouldn't be able to say no.

A bitch like Brady would have made the $12,000 back in less than a month and, after that, it would all have been gravy. When he moved him on up to call-boy status, he'd double his take. And all that was merely preparatory to the big bucks - renting him out a year at a time to rich fuckers who didn't care how they got their boys just so that they were good-looking, straight (if possible), and compliant. And the one thing Dr. Debt could guarantee was that after his bitches had done their time on the street and as high-paid rent-boys they were compliant. There wasn't anything his bitches wouldn't do to please a client - hell, there usually wasn't anything they hadn't already been forced to do. Dr. Debt had never had a single complaint on that score.

Dr. Debt knew his scheme wasn't fool-proof. He carefully screened each one of his prospective bitches at the initial one-on-one meeting he always insisted on. Over the years, he had become more and more attuned to the small signs that might show a particularly resistant personality. Any time a guy set off his warning bell, he'd just end the interview and recommend the guy file for bankruptcy - which was usually the dumb fuck's only real salvation anyway. And all Dr. Debt was out was an hour of his time. He only offered money to boys he was reasonably sure he'd be able to program.

There were still a small number of guys, maybe one in twenty, who he didn't get a true read on. They'd agree to meet his demands, take his money and suffer through an evening that made their worst nightmare seem like a happy fairy tale, but end up fundamentally unchanged. They had served as his bitch for five or six hours but they hadn't become a bitch. So, when he called these guys and tried to reel them in, like he'd just done with Brady, they'd tell him right off the bat to go fuck himself.

Dr. Debt had learned to live with that. No system was perfect and the guys who got away because the programming didn't take were simply the cost of doing business. Of course, he also had the pleasure of knowing that even though a guy had successfully resisted the programming he'd never be the same as he was before he met Dr. Debt. He'd always be, even in his own eyes, a guy who'd let another dude fuck him for money. He'd whored himself out and a part of him would always remember that he was a whore, even if he had only done it once.

But, while that was all well and good, the bottom line for Dr. Debt was making money and he always hated it when one of his prospective bitches slipped his snare. Fortunately, that was a small percent of his targets. Most of the guys he programmed were guys like Brady, guys Dr. Debt just knew were ripe for the picking, guys he was sure that he had hooked the first time he bent them over and reamed out their cherry asses. And he had been right about Brady. The programming had worked.

After he'd programmed his bitches, he always left them alone for a couple of weeks. He'd found that forcing them to try and cope by themselves with their programming over that long a period - their inability to wear any clothing at home or underwear when they went outside, their need to keep their bodies shaved and to keep working on their tits, and, most important, their inability to masturbate regardless of how horny they were - made them not only receptive to his offer to become their master but actually grateful to him. And, once they agreed to have Dr. Debt as their master, all his work was done and he could just rake in the money and all the benefits that go with having a straight boy-bitch at your complete disposal.

And Brady had been there, ripe for the picking. Only some other dude had moved in and done the picking. The idea that some fucking asshole could come along after Dr. Debt had spent his money and his time turning a straight dude into a receptive male bitch and just scoop him up infuriated the man. He tried to calm himself down but he was bubbling over with rage.

Just then, there was a knock on the door and Carlos entered. "Mark, the new bitch, is ready, sir. You said you wanted to see him before Juan drove him downtown."

Dr. Debt looked up at Carlos, his office manager, impressed as he always was at how well the man's looks had held up over the years. He was over forty now, but he could easily pass for a sexy young thirty. Of course it helped that, like all his staff, both at home and in the office, Carlos' body was permanently hairless. And, like all of his office staff during working hours, the only item that Carlos was wearing was a small padlock that connected his Prince Albert to the guiche on the base of his scrotum. Carlos' cock could still plump up when sufficiently aroused, as he was now, but it could no longer jut proudly out from his crotch potentially distracting not only Carlos but even Dr. Debt from the work that had to be done. And right now, the job facing Dr. Debt was sending Mark, one of his new bitches, out on to the streets for the first time.

"Send him in," Dr. Debt ordered, tamping down his anger over the Brady problem and forcing himself to focus on his present task, which was much more enjoyable.

"Yes, sir," Carlos quickly replied and left. "Get your ass in there, bitch," he heard Carlos instruct the waiting boy and then there was Mark at the door, a picture of embarrassed sluttiness.

Mark was dressed in standard street-walker's duds: leather boots with white socks, skimpy cotton shorts - at least two sizes too small - cut-off tank top. He looked every bit the boy-whore he was about to become. And the bitch knew it, too. You could tell by his posture, the way he looked down at the floor, the pink tinge that colored all exposed areas of his body - which was pretty much everything.

"Look at me, bitch," Dr. Debt ordered.

The boy looked up at his master. 'This kid was a real find,' Dr. Debt told himself, admiring the boy's ruggedly muscled 5'11" frame, his jet black hair setting off his deep sea-green eyes. And he was only eighteen years old. Nineteen, Dr. Debt, quickly corrected himself. Today was the boy's birthday. 'Happy Birthday, bitch,' Dr. Debt thought with a laugh.

"Tell me what you're going to be doing today, bitch," Dr. Debt instructed the boy.

The boy fidgeted under the man's unflinching gaze and bit his lower lip. It looked for a moment as if he was about to cry. Instead, stammering slightly Mark said, "I'm going to be selling my mouth and my pussy to men who'll pay me for it." "Sir," he nervously added, as an after-thought.

"And what's the price for your mouth and your pussy, bitch?" Dr. Debt demanded.

"Seventy-five dollars for my mouth, one hundred and fifty for my pussy, sir."

"And what do you tell any guy who wants to rent your pussy?"

"That they have to use a rubber, sir."

"And any guy who wants to use your mouth to shoot a load in?"

"I'll swallow it or they can shoot it on my face, whatever they prefer, sir."

"And what do you do with the money after you get paid."

"I give it to ..." there was a long pause, while the boy wracked his memory. Finally, he simply said, "I give it to the man who's there."

Dr. Debt shook his head in disgust. 'Bitches,' he thought, 'you have to spoon-feed them everything, they're so fucking stupid.' Aloud he said, "Davon. You give it to Davon. He's your pimp. Now repeat it."

"I give the money to Davon," the boy said.

"And who is Davon?" Dr. Debt demanded with asperity.

"He's my pimp, sir," Mark responded.

"Now try it all together, bitch," Dr. Debt ordered. "What do you do with the money you get for selling your mouth and your pussy?"

A single tear was now making its way down the boy's face. Blushing even brighter, he responded, "I give the money I get for selling my mouth and my pussy to Davon, my pimp. Sir."

"That's right, bitch," Dr. Debt sneered. "All boy-whores like you have a pimp to protect them from real men and your pimp's name is Davon."

"Yes, sir," the boy agreed in a flat monotone.

"And how long do you keep working, today, bitch?" Dr. Debt continued.

"Until I make $1,000, sir."

"That's right, bitch. You keep working until you've made $1,000. Davon will tell you when you're done and then he'll give Juan a call and he'll come pick you up and take you home."

That last sentence really caught the boy's attention. "Juan will be taking me home, sir? Not here?"

"Of course he'll be taking you home. Today is Sunday. We close up shop here at 5:00 p.m. You're going to be on the street a lot longer than that. A lot longer, bitch."

"But...but, sir. What if my parents see me dressed like this? What will they think, sir? I can't go home dressed like this."

"First off, bitch," Dr. Debt responded, lapsing into his most domineering voice, "you'll go home any way I tell you. Stark naked, if I say so. Do you understand, bitch?"

"Yes, sir," Mark softly replied, completely intimidated as usual when the man assumed his role as the boy's master. "I'll go home any way you tell me, sir."

"Secondly," Dr. Debt continued, enjoying the boy's obvious humiliation, "if your parents see you dressed that way, they'll think you're a boy-whore. So what? That's what you are. A boy-whore. Do you understand?"

Swallowing a sob, Mark answered as he'd been trained. "Yes, sir. I understand. I'm a boy-whore, sir."

"That's right," Dr. Debt smirked. "You're a boy-whore. And Juan will take you home tonight when you're done selling your body and he'll be back at noon next Friday to pick you up again. Just be dressed the way you are now. Understand bitch?"

"Yes, sir. I understand. I'll be ready next Friday at noon, wearing the same clothes, sir."

"And one more thing, bitch," Dr. Debt smiled as he delivered the coup de grace, "if either of your parents ask you what you're doing you tell them you're a boy-whore now and you're selling your mouth and your pussy to real men so that they can have a good time with your bitch body. That's an order, bitch. You tell them just that."

The boy looked at Dr. Debt with pleading eyes, begging him to relent. But there was no softening in the man's face. Crying openly, Mark managed to croak out a "yes, sir," as his entire body sagged in total despair.

Impassively, Dr. Debt watched the boy cry for a few minutes. Then, he shouted "Carlos," in a loud voice. Immediately the office manager appeared in the doorway.

"Get this bitch out of here and put his ass to work," the man ordered.

"Yes, sir," Carlos replied. He grabbed the boy firmly by the arm and led him out of Dr. Debt's office. After they were gone, Dr. Debt reached into his desk and pulled out a cigar. He cut the end off and lit up. That, at least, had gone according to plan. In a week, two at most, Mark's parents would kick has ass out and the boy would be on the streets, no place to live. No one to turn to except Dr. Debt.

Dr. Debt would find him a place to stay, in one of his apartments, bunking up with other bitches who were working the streets or stripping at the clubs or renting themselves out on-line. The boy would be immersed in the world of boy-whores and soon he wouldn't remember a time when he hadn't sold his body for money. And he'd quickly realize that there was a hierarchy in the world of boy-whores and that he was presently occupying the lowest rung. So he'd apply himself to improving his skills, his sexual repertoire, his willingness to do anything to please a customer. And in anywhere for six month to a year, after he'd progressed up the ladder from street-whore to high-priced call boy, he'd be ready to go on the market as a yearly rental.

A boy like Mark, with his looks and relative youth, would easily go for between $50,000 to $70,000, a year. Dr. Debt's boys always brought top dollar not only because of their good looks and their programming but because, having seen the really sleazy side of the sex trade, they knew they were relatively well-off and would go out of their way to please their new owners.

Sure, Dr. Debt could have just ordered Mark to leave home and move in with his other boys, but it was so much more satisfying to have the boy's parents provide the impetus for their mutual estrangement. And they would - they always did. And then there'd be only Dr. Debt. Mark was definitely a success story in the making.

But as Dr. Debt leaned back in his chair and puffed on his cigar, his mind travelled back to his conversation with Brady. Should he let it go or should he try to do something about it? He knew from his own experience that once he'd successfully conditioned one of his boys it was virtually impossible to break the programming and with Brady that programming would now work against him. But there was another way.

What if he programmed Brady's new master? If he did that, he'd be able to force the new master to return Brady to Dr. Debt. And he'd also get control of the master, too. That would be sweet. There'd be an infinite number of ways to pay that asshole back for fucking around with Dr. Debt's business, fucking around with one of Dr. Debt's bitches. It just might be worth all the effort that would be needed.

That was certainly something to think about. And as Dr. Debt slowly rocked in his chair, that's just what he was doing. Suddenly, a smile blossomed on his face. He brought the cigar back to his mouth and blew a smoke ring that slowly expanded until it disappeared into the air.

Well, that's the end of Dr. Debt & His New Bitch. At least for now. I'm sure that some will find the ending too much like "The Lady or The Tiger," but sometimes I think it is more true to life if the ending is left up in the air. Do Brady and Heck live happily ever after? Does Brady end up serving as a fuck-bitch for half the boys in Heck's high school? Does Dr. Debt get his revenge? Or does he move on? And what happens to Mark as he begins his life as a rent-boy in Dr. Debt's stable? All of these questions have different possible answers. But, all of those answers lie in the future - if ever.

For now, I just want to thank all the readers who took the time to write me and tell me how much they were enjoying the story. And to remind everyone that Nifty survives on the generosity of its readers.

Rafi