This is a work of fiction. It involves sex between two men, including some non-consensual acts. If such would offend you, or if reading such is illegal for you due to location or age, please do not continue.
There is not too much sex in the first couple of chapters, and what there is goes more to breaking down walls then for actual physical pleasure. Stay with me, and I promise it WILL get to the headboard-slamming, toes-curling, screaming the top's name stuff. Direct all comments or suggestions to sublawyer1965@yahoo.com - and please enjoy!!!
He nodded at the spot in front of him, even as he spread his legs wide. Swallowing, I slowly stepped forward, my body obeying even as the voice in my head screamed not to do this. I had always been the one calling the shots, and I knew if I went along, I would end up this boy-stud's bitch. He had made it plain since we met he was used to being the boss getting what he wanted, and he obviously intended to have me.
But like I said, my body would not listen. Naked, I moved to stand in front of this younger man, small shivers going thru me. And a second inner voice started to argue with the first, saying this felt right, that it was what I needed.
Scott's cocky grin (he was only 18, after all, and he was making a much older and more powerful man do what he wanted -- he was entitled to some cockiness) was still as sexy as the moment I had seen it in the bar, and my cock throbbed. His arms, bent back behind his head and the sleeves of his t-shirt bunched up to the shoulders, were muscular and tanned, smooth. All I could think of was licking his biceps after he had worked out, tasting the sweat...
"Kneel, boy." His words cut thru my daydream, his voice much deeper then one would expect from a guy only 5 foot 8 inches tall. Even as I began to sink to my knees between his legs, I knew people would always underestimate Scott due to his size, and that would be their biggest mistake -- he was not a man to take lightly.
Slowly he reached out to stroke my face, like petting a puppy. "See, Jakey-boy, I knew you had it in you. It just took someone to bring it out. But you still need to learn some lessons, boy, and I think it is going to be fun to teach them. Now, kiss the head of my dick."
I looked up at him, and suddenly the part of me that wanted to resist took over. I do not know why it did but for some reason kissing his cock just seemed like to much to take. I started to stand, and yelled at him, "Fuck you! I am not going to be a bitch to some punk kid who..."
That was all I got out, before he leapt from the chair, and slapped me hard across the face. He knocked me to floor, and landed on top of me. His hands were working overtime, slapping me back and forth. I know now it was not hard enough to damage me, but at that moment, all I could tell was this man was going to beat the shit out of me. I tried to raise my hands to deflect his blows but he was faster then me, and whenever I tried to move in one spot, he would strike another. But the funny thing is, it never even occurred to me to hit back -- all I wanted was him to stop hitting me, and to make him happy again.
"You stupid fucking CUNT! I have been easy on you, giving you time to adjust, trying to let you accept your place. But are you grateful? Do you show respect? NO!! You behave like a fucking spoiled BITCH!!" He moved off me, and grabbed me by my hair, yanking me over onto my stomach. He sat back on me, using his legs to pin my arms down. I heard him pull his belt off, and I knew what was going to happen. I became frantic, begging him to stop, telling him I would be good.
Looking back now, I know it was at that moment I gave up the ghost of being the man. All I had to do was push up -- I outweighed him by about 40 pounds, and it was all muscle. I could have beat him to a pulp -- I took boxing and karate classes as part of my workout routine, and I was pretty good at both. But the part of me that makes me a boy at heart knew he was the man, and that I was not to fight back when I deserved punishment. And I knew I deserved this. It was what I had always taught the bottoms I played with -- you take your licks when you earned them. I still had a long way to go in learning to be a boy, but I would never really think of myself as a real man again.
These were not conscious thoughts, of course, it was all in the center of my brain. What was going thru my conscious mind was begging him to stop the whipping he was giving my ass. I stopped counting at ten lashes, and I was blubbering for him to stop. Thru it all, Scott just kept telling me how he know I would fight the changes but that he WOULD win, and I would accept my new role.
He wasn't cruel, he wasn't abusive, he wasn't just amusing himself. He knew it would take breaking me down totally to complete his goal -- making me a proper boy. He told me later he used the belt thirty times -- he said my ass was bright red, and some of the welts stayed with me for days.
When he was done, he stood up and walked to the door, still holding the belt in his hand. He buttoned up his jeans, so his cock was no longer on display -- a part of me was sad he had done that before letting me worship it. I was curled up, sobbing, afraid to speak because I was not sure what would please him, and at that moment, all I wanted was to keep him happy. He looked down at me and said, "Crawl boy, we are going to go upstairs so I can see what you have up there, but until you earn the right to act like a boy, you are going to be my dog. I do not particularly like pup-training, but you need to learn your place as my bitch before you can be my boy." Slowly I stopped crying and looked at him, not totally sure what to do, but then he yelled at me to move, and without thinking, I got on all fours and crawled to him. In my own home, I crawled like a pet after him.
He went upstairs ahead of me, as I slowly worked up the steps. Even without a blistered ass, it was not an easy thing to do when you are not used to it, but every move of my ass muscles brought new fire to my butt. When I finally got up to the top, I was still and listened for where he was. "Here, boy," his voice coming from my bedroom.
I crawled in to him, and found him sitting on my bed, looking around. My furniture was understated, simple, but nice. The bed frame was solid oak, the headboard and footboard both had openings that were perfect for tying or cuffing a boy to them, spread eagle or doubled over and ass exposed. I saw him looking at them, and touching where a particularly rough night had gotten a bottom to thrash so much the cuffs had gashed the wood some -- if you did not know I was into this, you would of course not know what the mark was from, but Scott did. He smiled as he looked at me, and ruffled my hair. He stood, still not speaking and went to the closet. When I started to move after him, his deep voice told me to stay.
He looked thru my clothes, making some approving noises and some disapproving as well. He looked at me shoes, and spent a fair amount of time with my boots. He tried them on, and found we wore the same size. He walked out in my favorite pair of cowboy boots -- deep red tooled leather with black stitching. Pointed toes, medium heel, and broken-in very well. He stood in front of me, looking down. "You know these are mine now, right?" As he said it, he squatted down, and pushed my face down to the left boot. "They need to be polished, though, boy. You have not taken care of my things very well."
It took a moment to realize what he meant, but then I stuck my tongue out and began to lick them, just like I had made boys do before me. He patted my head as he watched me clean my... HIS boots. When he was satisfied, five minutes later, he stood back up and told me to lead him to the play room.
I started to stand, but he shoved me back down. "I did not tell you to stand, you fucking dog!!" He smacked me across the face, hard enough to sting but not leave a mark. "I told you: you stay on all fours until you earn the right to stand again. Forget again and I swear I will make sure you regret it. Now take me to the playroom -- the boys you used told me a lot about it and I want to see for myself."
I swallowed, nervous at having displeased him again. My ass still hurt and I did not think I could take another whipping. As if reading my mind, he picked up his belt, folded over in his hand, and smacked it against his thigh. I quickly moved forward, out of the room -- anything to avoid that belt!
Down the hall, we came to a door with a lock on it. I had a cleaning lady, and I did not want her nosing around in there, so I kept it secured when not being used. He looked at the lock and then at me. "Where did you leave the keys?"
"Sir, they are hanging in the kitchen by the door to the hall -- should I go get them?" Even as I offered it, my mind reeled -- I had already sunk so low that I was jumping at chances to do things for him!
He turned and went to the stairs. "No, pup, you will be too slow on all fours. You stay right there, I will be back." I watched him go, the miniature giant who had taken over my house. And I had no doubts he had taken over -- at this point I would give him anything he asked for to keep him from punishing me. And I also had to admit, my cock was still rock hard, dripping, and I had never been more turned on in my life -- as scared as I was at the turn of events, I wanted it to go on, and for this boy-man to help me.
He came back up the stairs, and smiled at me, again ruffling my hair like a puppy. "Good boy, you are learning. Now, let's see what is behind door number one, shall we?" As he undid the lock, my heart was racing -- I knew what I had in that room, and what I had done to boys there, and I was scared at the idea of being on the receiving end.
Scott did not notice, however, as the door opened and he walked in to the room, and stood in the middle, looking around.
"Now this will be fun," he said.
This is my first story, so any and all feedback is welcome -- and though I have some ideas where this is going to go (it is based somewhat on what I would like to find in real life {hint hint guys}) any ideas on where you would like it to go?? And I had someone ask me what the two guys look like, as in pictures -- at this point I do not, simply because Jake is me (and I am still nervous about pics all over the net) and Scott is simply an idealized fantasy man of mine, so at the moment I do not have any -- sorry, fellas.
Sublawyer1965@yahoo.com