The following story is a work of complete fiction, dreamed up in my own twisted little mind. I even invented Lance and Seb, and any resemblance they might have to real people is purely coincidental. If you're uncomfortable with themes of consensual, loving bondage, domination/submission, or humiliation and training between two young men, please stop reading here. Everyone else, enjoy!
Comments are welcomed, adored, and lovingly spanked and petted at bondedboy13@yahoo.com
Saving Sebastian, part one: A Change of Pace
I was waiting when he came through the door, his face a curious mixture of defiance and trepidation. I'd been waiting for a while, actually, partially to give myself a chance to cool off, partially because I'd been thinking hard about what this meant, what I should do, how he'd react. I'd left the lights dim in the room, and he didn't change them when he entered.
"Lance," he said offhandedly, dropping his jacket on a chair. "What are you doing here?"
"I think you know," I said evenly. "Why don't you tell me?"
He shrugged, elaborately casual, and turned to look at himself in the mirror. He was talking tough, but there was tension vibrating in every line of his long, lean body. "You're probably kind of pissed, huh? That shit I said at the club, the stuff I was doing? Well, too bad. You don't get to say."
"I do get to say, remember?" I kept my voice as even as I could, and gentle. "We've talked about this. You asked for my help."
"Well, maybe I don't want it all the time." There was that flash of defiance again, and temper. "Maybe I just want to do my own thing sometimes, without you being all shitty about it."
I considered that for a moment, then nodded and rose from the bed where I'd been sitting. "That's your choice, of course. You can make that decision." I walked to the dresser and pulled open the special drawer, grabbing a small duffel and opening it. I started emptying the drawer into it.
"What are you doing?" There was that uncertainty again, as he watched me from across the room. "Lance? Why are you...." He trailed off.
"You've made your decision." My voice was still quiet. "Since you don't want my help any more, I'm going to take these things and go. You're on your own." A calculated phrase, to remind him why we'd started in the first place.
"No!" He was across the room in a flash, and grabbing my arm. I turned slowly and gave his hand a pointed look, and he dropped it like my flesh was suddenly hot. At 5'10", I'm a bit shorter than he is, but broader, and he knows better than to grab me like that. Eyes wide, hands twisting together, he slowly sank to his knees at my feet. "No, I don't want that. I didn't...I just wanted to have some fun, for once, the way I want to..."
I reached out and grabbed his chin, so he was forced to look at my face, as his cheeks slowly flushed red. "Sebastian," I said calmly. "The rules were that I got to decide, that you were going to be good and follow my instructions, that you were going to obey." That was always the tricky word for him. He'd always chafed a little against my wishes for his behavior in public, but this was the first time he'd openly flaunted the rules. They were never embarrassing for him, never anything that would reveal our relationship to the world, but still, his stubborn little mind rebelled at me dictating his actions when we were out of the house. Being in a rock band was hard for anyone, especially someone as young as Sebastian. He had only just turned twenty, and the temptations and stresses of the life we led were intense.
"I know. I just. I was mad," he confessed, hands still wringing. "Please don't go. Please, I'll try harder. I need you. Lance, please."
I searched his dark blue eyes, and there was sincerity there, and need, and desperation. I paused for a long moment. Clearly, what we'd been doing so far hadn't worked, and I needed to come up with something new.
"This is your last chance." My tone was definite, and he nodded frantically. "You can always decide that this isn't right for you, always choose to break it off. But the next time something like this happens, I'm gone. For good. Do you understand?" His eyes filled with grateful tears, and he nodded again.
"Thank you," he whispered, and I let my hand cup his cheek.
"You were awful tonight," I told him, and he blinked, and nodded again, more slowly. "You know what I have to do, right?" This time, barely a tip of the head, and there was fear there, now, and anticipation. "But first, we're going to discuss some new rules. Take off your clothes, please."
He made as if to stand, and I slammed a hand into his shoulder, pushing him back to his knees. "Like that. Don't get up." He froze, and then slowly began unbuttoning his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders and baring that gorgeous body. Sebastian's an artist's wet dream with his dark straight hair and indigo eyes framed by incredibly long lashes, pale porcelain skin, broad shoulders and sculpted muscles tapering to a lean waist. I smiled a little as his body was revealed. He was still tense, just like he'd been all night, muscles bunched and twisting under his smooth skin. All six feet of him, kneeling before me. It was an incredible sight.
Getting his pants and shoes off was more of a challenge, but he managed, without standing, and I gave him an approving smile. Finally, his boxers, and he was kneeling before me, naked, his cock hanging loose and slim and pretty, barely four inches between his thighs.
"Okay. I want you to listen. These rules aren't up for discussion, not if you want me to stay, but you can tell me how you feel about them." He stared up into my face, silent and waiting. "I've been trying to help you, Sebastian, you know that. But it's not working, the way we've been doing it. You're manipulating me to get what you want, when you want it, and that's not the way this is going to work. Not if you truly want to be better. I'm going to make it a little harder on you, and you're going to have to try more, and it's going to be more difficult. But I think it will be good, if you let it." He was shivering a little, now.
"So far, what are your rules? Tell me, please." I always said please, though it wasn't really a request.
"I do what you say," he whispered, and I let myself frown.
"Louder, please. And be specific." He blinked, and bit his lip.
"I do what you say. I'm polite to everyone. I wash the dishes and sweep the kitchen and make the bed. I wake up every morning at nine, no matter how late I get in. I don't interrupt people in interviews. I do voice exercises for an hour every afternoon, and practice my piano. I'm not allowed to have sex with anyone but you. I don't come until you say it's okay when we have sex."
I nodded. "Good, sweetie. And what happens if you break the rules?"
"Y-you spank me," he said in a tiny voice, face flushing with shame and pleasure.
"And why is that?" I was gentle, still, but firm.
"Because I need help to be good. Because I need to be reminded, and you love me."
"That's right," I smiled at him. "I spank you with my hand, right? Across my lap?" He nodded.
"I think that's not working. I think it's too nice for you, now, and sometimes you're bad on purpose. It's not supposed to be nice, Sebastian, it's supposed to remind you that you've misbehaved." He blinked. Some of my spankings had been very hard. "We're going to make new rules, and new punishments. I'm going to tell you about them now, so you can think about them as we deal with what you did tonight." He cringed, and nodded.
"All your old rules still apply, they're still important. But tomorrow we're going to go shopping and get you some new things, to wear when we're at home. A collar." He opened his mouth to protest, and I held up my hand. "These are the rules. A collar, and some leather cuffs, and you will always wear them in the house. Maybe some things to remind you of the rules, too, we'll see when we're there. Who is in charge?"
"You are," he said, hanging his head.
"That's right. Those things are just to remind you." I rested my palm on the top of his head. "I've done some research, Sebastian, this isn't just stuff I'm making up. You're out of control, and I'm trying to help you. Okay?" He nodded.
"The next rule is, absolute obedience. Immediately. No questions. When I tell you to do something, you do it, even if you think it's strange. If I want you to clean the kitchen floor on your hands and knees, you do it. If I want you to kneel in the corner naked, you do it. You'll have to trust me."
"I do," he whispered, and I could see him starting to get hard. As much as he fought my control, he loved it and needed it, and it turned him on. I smiled.
"I'm going to humiliate you," I told him gently, and he shivered. "You are too focused on what you want, how wonderful you are. When I punish you, I want you to thank me, afterwards, and kiss me. You're going to give control to me, and I'll make it better. "
"I want you to have it," he confessed, fully hard now, his cock lifting from his thighs.
"Okay. We'll write down those rules tomorrow. I want you to think of any more that you think might be good, and tell me in the morning." He nodded, and smiled up at me, bright with relief and pleasure. My sweet boy.
"Now, about tonight." His smile fell away. "That girl gave you a blowjob in the bathroom." He made to protest, and I cut him off. "Sebastian, I know. And you were incredibly rude to not only James but those roadies, and you ignored me when I asked you to come with me. Didn't you?" He nodded, ashamed.
"I think that deserves a little more than just a spanking, don't you?" I stroked his head gently, and felt his tiny nod. "Okay, baby. I want you to get on the bed, on your belly, please."
"Lance..."
"NOW, Sebastian." I snapped it at him, and he leaped into action, scurrying for the bed and lying on it, straight and still.
"Are you mad?" His voice was small and uncertain, and he was watching me, his head turned. I shook my head, and started undoing my belt. He flinched, eyes huge.
"No, I'm not mad. Just very, very disappointed. And you know, once you're punished, it's over. It's in the past, and you don't have to feel bad about it any more." He blinked at me, nodded, and relaxed a little.
"Okay, honey." I stripped out of the rest of my clothes, folding them neatly. "Spread your legs. Further. Further, Sebastian." Hesitantly, his knees parted, until he was spread open. "This is going to hurt more than my hand. I want you to stay very still. And remember to count, you'll be getting fifteen stripes tonight." He gasped, shaking, and nodded.
I'd never used a belt, or anything else, really, on Sebastian. Just my hand and once a hairbrush, which he'd hated. From the little motions his hips were making into the covers, I could tell he was almost as excited about this as he was scared, and I shook my head. I'd discovered in the course of disciplining him that Sebastian was something of a masochist, to go along with the submissive tendencies that he fought so hard against. He was desperate for someone to control him, punish him, take charge and give him what he needed. No wonder he'd been so wild and miserable, before we started our relationship a month ago. He was much happier now, and it thrilled me to see him smiling and laughing and happy again. But still, like tonight, he fought it. No more, if I had anything to say about it.
I stood at the side of the bed, snapping the belt between my hands. I'd practiced on a pillow and on my own leg while waiting for him, and I knew how much even a light smack stung. Sebastian would not be getting a light smack.
"Get ready," I told him, and he tensed all over, hands fisting the bedsheets. Flexing my arm, I brought the belt down across his bare buttocks, HARD.
He shrieked, and scrambled up the bed, a livid red stripe across his ass. I grabbed his head and forced him back down, and he fought me, twisting, until finally going limp. There were shocked tears in his eyes, and his face was suddenly bright red. "Sebastian," I said softly. "Baby, you need to sit still. And count."
"I can't, I don't think I can, Lance, don't do this, please..." His voice was breathless, hitching in his throat, and his knee was pressing into the bed as his whole lower body flexed away from the pain. Beneath him, I could see his cock, a hard angry read, leaking precum onto the sheets.
"Do you need me to tie you?" I kept my voice gentle. We'd never done that before either, though he'd been cuffed a few times while I spanked him.
A long pause, and then he nodded once, jerkily. "Okay." I retrieved some ties from the closet, leaving Sebastian on the bed to think about things, and then pressed him flat again. He whimpered, but gave me his hands, and I bound them securely to the corners of the bed. Then his ankles, drawing his legs wide and flat, and he shook and squirmed and I slapped the back of his thigh warningly. He stilled, and let me tie him. He looked beautiful, his long legs spread, full balls visible between them, every muscle in his back in tense relief. "Now pull, your legs and arms," I told him, and he yanked and twisted them, clearly getting a little angry at me, at the whole situation. The ties didn't give, but I made a mental note that we'd be needing some real restraints soon.
"We're starting again," I told him, and he growled at me. "It's okay to be mad at me, but remember, you did this to yourself, with your behavior tonight. Now, count."
I brought my arm back, and SMACK belted him again, and he screamed, body flexing as far as it could. "Sebastian," I said, still calm. "We're starting again. Count." I did it again, and this time, I could clearly hear the word "one" in his shriek.
"Good boy. Now hang on." Two, three, and four, and his voice was getting hoarse, and I was grateful for the soundproofing. He was begging now, pleading with me, his face mashed into the bed and his body shaking and shivering, jerking with every blow. Five, and the stripes were mostly even across his ass and lower back, six and my cock was rock hard and leaking, six and I took a little break as he sobbed and gasped for breath. Reaching under him clinically, I felt between his legs, cupping his cock and balls, rubbing my thumb over his quivering asshole. Soft, now. Good. This wasn't supposed to be fun.
By the tenth stroke he was lying still, just jerking under the belt when it landed, sobbing out the count as I beat him raw. I made sure the fifteenth landed across the tender place at the very top of his thighs, and he screamed again, and then went completely limp. I reached out and pressed my hand to the back of his neck, firmly, and didn't let him flinch away.
"You're a very good boy, Sebastian. I'm proud of you."
There was silence in the room after that, broken only by his sobbing, tearing breaths, and I left the bedside, coiling my belt and moving around the room, folding his discarded clothes--he'd be spanked for that tomorrow--turning off the lights in the hallway and bathroom, brushing my teeth.
When I got back to the bed he had quieted, and turned his face to the side. It was still red and streaked with tears, but thoughtful now, and I kept my silence as I gently released him from the ties. Even after I was done untying him, he lay still. His ass was a bright flaming red, raising in welts in a few places, and I imagined it wasn't very comfortable for him to move. I brought his arms down to his sides, and stroked his shoulder, and he sighed, his whole body relaxing completely with a little shudder.
"Better now?" I kept my voice quiet in the dim room, and he nodded slowly. His face was clear, no trace of the defiance or unhappiness or uncertainty it had had before. He looked relaxed, sated, though I knew he hadn't come. "Okay, on your side." I lubed my fingers and cock and rolled him away from me, lifting his leg, exposing him to me as I slid into bed behind him. He whimpered, and his asshole twitched, as I slipped two fingers into him. "Lie still, Sebastian," I told him, and he shivered and obeyed. I fingered him for a while, massaging his prostate, my other hand resting lightly on the hot skin of his buttock. He couldn't decide whether to jerk away from my hand or further back onto my fingers, and the conflicting sensations reduced him to little gasps soon enough.
My cock is both long and thick, and two fingers weren't really enough to prepare him, especially since it had been almost a week since we'd fucked. But again, this wasn't about his pleasure so much as a reminder of who had control, who was in charge, and I forced myself inside him, hands on his hips to prevent him from jerking away. He was crying again, soft little sobs, and when I reached around he was rock hard and leaking. I took my hand away immediately. "Remember your rules," I said quietly, and he nodded, and I could almost hear his teeth grinding as he fought for control.
I took him hard, the hot flesh of his ass pleasant against my groin, his flinches every time I pushed all the way in an added pleasure. I hadn't really known how deeply I craved control and dominance until Sebastian, until that day when he'd been so screamingly out of control that I'd dragged him into a hotel bedroom and swatted his ass three or four times. The effect had been electric, turning him docile and polite, and me hard as steel. It had just been the beginning, the start of the change in our relationship from lead singer and guitar player, best friends, to submissive and dominant.
I felt him start to hump the air, desperate for release, and I slapped his sore ass hard, getting a little yelp from him. "Don't you dare," I said sternly, "don't you dare come, Sebastian, or the whipping you got tonight will seem like nothing." He froze, terrified, and I kissed the back of his neck in approval. Grinding myself deeper, trying to crawl inside him, I finally came, emptying myself into his ass, groaning in the unbelievable pleasure as I shot three, four, five times, pulsing inside him.
"Please let me come, please let me come," he was chanting, as I came back to my senses. "Oh, Lance, please say I can come, I'm going to die, please..."
"Do you think you deserve to come tonight?" I often asked him his opinion. Not that it mattered, in the long run. He went silent, and then shook his head a little. "I think you're right. Not tonight, not tomorrow. You're on probation, Sebastian." He whimpered when I pulled out of him, and I turned him over to face me, and kissed his wet cheek.
"I love you, baby," I said, putting all my heart and caring into it. He sniffled, and blinked his wet eyelashes at me. "You're in charge of making sure you don't come tonight, you understand?"
"Yes Lance," he said, voice thick with tears. "I love you too."
"What do you say?" I reminded him gently.
"Thank you for punishing me," he said softly. "Thank you for loving me and helping me be better."
"You're welcome." I stroked his cheek and smiled into his eyes, and he smiled back. It would be the way we ended all our sessions, from this point forward.
Part Two: Slave
Lance has always been calm. Even when we were in the middle of some crazy tour, singing every night and giving radio interviews, press calls, even public appearances during the day, he's always been strong and quiet and controlled. I was so jealous of him, for so long. The more famous we got, the more crazy our lives became, the more miserable and angry and insane I grew.
The worst part was, I didn't know why. We were famous. We were four hot guys in one of the hottest rock bands in the world, we had a million screaming devoted fans. We were on top of the world, and we could do whatever we wanted. There were no controls on us. And I was so unhappy it was making me sick. It was like this ball of pain in my chest, in my gut. No matter how many lines of coke I did, or how many groupies I fucked, it just kept growing.
Lance changed all that. I was screaming at our bass player James one day, I'd imagined he'd screwed up the bridge in one of our more popular songs the night before. I was so angry, I was practically spitting at him, when all of a sudden someone twisted my ear and dragged me out of the room.
Lance looks kind of small, especially next to me, but he's solid muscle and he knows how to use it. He pulled me straight through to one of the suite bedrooms, me stumbling behind him, eyes on his soft brown curls. I was struggling and yelping, but he paid no attention to me whatsoever, until he reached the middle of the room, spun me around, and smacked my ass four times, hard stinging slaps.
For a second I was paralyzed with shock, and I think he was too. The feel of his hand on my ass, the way he'd controlled my motion, it's like it drained all the violent anger out of me, unknotted that tight twist of pain inside me, and I felt calm for the first time in months. My ass was pleasantly warm, and I took a deep breath, and felt tension I didn't even know I'd had drain out of my shoulders.
"Act like an infant and you'll be spanked like one," he finally said, in his buttersoft low voice. I shivered, hunching my shoulders to hide the fact that that voice, those words, had lifted my cock into erection almost instantly. I'd had sex with men before, but it wasn't any better than with women, all of it leaving me feeling vaguely guilty and dirty and unsatisfied. I'd never looked at my bandmates as possible sex partners, either. I'd seen Behind The Music.
"Please." It drifted out of my mouth before I even knew it, and I clapped my hand over my mouth, shocked at myself. He didn't even look startled, just glanced up and down my body with those steady brown eyes. But it had felt so good. I felt okay, and I was desperate to hang onto that feeling.
"Are you sure?" That's all he asked, and I nodded. "When you get crazy, right?" I nodded again. It's still hard for me to talk about what I need; back then it was almost impossible to vocalize, and he had to force me into it. "Okay," he said, and that was that. He took my hand and pulled me to the bed, tugging me gently across his thighs. I thought I'd die from the embarrassment; he must have felt how hard I was. But his cock was digging into my hip, which made me feel a little better. He smacked me a good ten times with his hand, through my pants, and then let me think about things for a little while, smoothing his hand over the curve of my ass. When I got off his thighs, I was at peace. I'd come in my pants at the last blow, and I couldn't even bring myself to be ashamed of it. I thanked him from the bottom of my heart, and he gave me that proud, pleased smile that soon I'd do anything to see.
That was the beginning. We moved along slowly, he could always tell when I needed more, though he usually made me ask for it. First spankings through my underpants, then on my bare bottom, and we started making some rules for me. Once, when I'd staggered home completely stoned, he waited for me to sober up and then walloped me with a hairbrush. That really hurt, but deep down I loved it. I was kind of pushing it, at that point. I craved more, and I couldn't ask for it, and he was hesitant, I think, to push me too far. He didn't realize then that I needed him to completely dominate me. Hell, I didn't even realize it at that point, I just knew that my insides itched, I knew there were things that I had to have, and that I wasn't getting. And I hated that I needed it. It made me mad.
I think that's what made me be so bad, that night. The sex had started almost as an afterthought to the spankings, and he was always gentle and considerate with me, just like my other lovers had been, and it was making me angry. The fact that he had these rules for me made me want to fight them, rebel, be my own man, and that night I just cut loose. A stripper blew me in the bathroom, I danced with slutty men and women and flaunted myself, I teased James about his new girlfriend, calling her a whore who was after his money. Lance watched it all, and more than once motioned to me to stop, but I pretended he wasn't even there. When he left the club, long before the rest of us, I knew he was angry.
That night was terrible and wonderful. He beat me hard, and it hurt, oh god did it hurt, I was screaming and begging and crying and I'd never felt anything so awful. But when it was over, the hurting place inside was much smaller. I'd misbehaved, and I'd been punished severely, just as I deserved. Lance had taken care of it. I slept like a baby, even though I hadn't come.
Lance woke me up at nine. Even though we were off tour, in his house in the suburbs of Chicago, he thought that a regular schedule would be good for me. He was probably right, but I hated mornings on the best of days, and that day I was sore and aching and exhausted, having gotten only three hours of sleep. Lance, the bastard, looked rested and relaxed, and kissed my cheek.
"Good morning, sweetie. How's my boy today?" Even though he's only two years older than me, he always treats me like a young boy when I'm with him. I love it.
"Sore," I grumbled. "Fucking tired."
"Sebastian," his voice was gently warning. "No swearing, not in this house."
"I know, I know," I grunted, and he arched one of those disdainful eyebrows at me. "Sorry," I added grudgingly, and he looked at me consideringly.
"I'm going to give you till the count of ten to adjust your attitude, and if you don't, I'll correct it for you." His voice was even, like always, but left me in absolutely no doubt that he meant it. This was new, this submission he was asking of me, and I struggled with it for a moment. I'm grouchy in the mornings, it's part of who I am, and this would be hard. Finally, I nodded, and took his hand and kissed the fingertips.
"I'm sorry," I said more sincerely. "It won't happen again."
He smiled at me, and he's so beautiful when he smiles. He's got a strong masculine face, and an absolutely exquisite mouth, and I love it when he smiles at me. "See that it doesn't. I think we're going to add that to your rules. You'll be civil to me, always, and to anyone else, no matter what the time of day. You'll accept my corrections with instant obediance and gratitude."
"It's hard," I said quietly, and he nodded and kissed me lightly.
"I know. A lot of things will be hard. But I know you can do it, you're strong." I glowed with his praise and faith in me. "Now get up and shower. Clean yourself really well, you still stink from the club last night. I'm going to do some research, come find me in the computer room when you're done. And Sebastian, you can put on your running shorts, but nothing else."
This was new too. He had rules before, but they were mostly about my manners, and it took a moment before I nodded my compliance. With another kiss, he got out of bed and dressed, and left me to bathe.
When I rejoined him, I was wearing the soft cotton running shorts, and realized how clever he'd been. He was controlling my dress, yes, but I wouldn't have been able to bear the feeling of anything tight or rough against the blistered skin of my bottom anyway. He smiled at me as I stood in the doorway, and motioned for me to come to his side. I walked gingerly over to him, expecting to stand beside him, but he stood and pressed me to my knees beside his chair. My tortured skin protested, my aching muscles screamed, and I gasped in shock. He looked at me evenly.
"You will kneel when I wish," he said simply, and there was iron in his voice, and I nodded mutely. Despite the discomfort, I was getting hard again.
"Good boy." He took his seat again, and pointed to the screen. I could see it clearly from my uncomfortable position. "Last night, I posted to a couple of usegroups. Anonymously, of course. I knew I needed help, someone to help me help you. There are some very experienced people out there, and they do the same things we do, for the same reasons. There are lots of boys like you, who need discipline and control in their lives, and there are lots of men who give it to them, lovingly and firmly. I want to be able to do that for you." He cupped my cheek. "Some of the answers they gave me may be a little scary for you. You can tell me if they are, but it won't change the decisions I've made. Remember, you can leave me at any time. And we'll still be friends, I'll still be in the band with you. Nothing can change that."
I'd needed to hear that, and I sighed in relief. "Okay," I said, though I was worried about these answers. I'd given up control last night, though, willingly and gratefully, and I wasn't willing to lose this incredible feeling of rightness. "Will you tell me?"
"Of course. And I'll even add them to our list, and we'll put it on the fridge, so you don't forget." He sat back in his chair, idly stroking my shoulder.
"This one, Steve, he's training a young boy, much younger than you, but the boy sounds a lot like you. He sent me a list he'd made for his boy. I like it a lot. First though, I want you to tell me honestly. How many times a day do you masturbate?"
I flushed with shame. "At least once," I confessed. "Sometimes twice. I can't help it. I'm always getting hard."
"I know, honey. But it's important that you learn some control, and it's part of your discipline." He smiled at me gently. "That's the first rule. No masturbating. No sex at all unless it's with me, and you never come without permission. In fact, you shouldn't even get hard without permission."
I blinked at him. Not get hard? I got hard in a stiff breeze, sometimes. He confirmed it with a nod. "I'll let you try to control it yourself. If it's too difficult, there are things we can get that will help you. You probably won't like them, but I will." He's so damned cheerful about this stuff, sometimes I want to smack him. "Your cock is mine. Your ass is mine. They belong to me, now, and I get to say how they behave. Just like the rest of you." That iron tone was back in his voice, and I shivered, cock rigid despite me. It belonged to Lance, now, and I loved that.
He continued, though a pointed glance at my crotch let me know he had seen. "I'm going to shave your body today, especially between your legs and under your arms. You'll be bare except for when we're on tour or doing photoshoots, from now on. And you'll always wear your collar and your cuffs in the house. In addition to the cuffs and collars, we'll be getting other equipment. An enema bag, some butt plugs, a gag, restraints, and a chastity belt. And from now on, spankings are just for fun, when we're making love. You'll be punished with a strap, a cane, or a whip, depending on how bad you've been."
Every word ratcheted up the delicious terror in my belly, until I was sweating and shaking, cock pulsing between my legs like the pain in my sore bottom. He tipped my head up towards him, his face full of love, and kissed me sweetly. "You will always, always obey me, in every detail, no matter how painful or humiliating or degrading it might seem," he finished, and I burst into tears.
"It's okay," he whispered, draping an arm around me and pulling my face to his side. I sobbed it all out, the misery and the fear and the anticipation, the fact that his words had made me so excited and happy it almost hurt, even though I knew how twisted it was. "It's okay, baby. Let it all out. You'll be fine. I'll take care of you." With those words, I felt the last of my hesitation slip away, and I nodded against him.
"I'll be...like your slave," I whispered, and I could feel him nod.
"That's exactly right, that's just what you'll be. Your job is to obey and please me. And my job is to train and protect you."
"Do I have to call you sir?" I had vague memories of a porn video, where the chick had called the man in leather 'sir.' It had turned me on so unbearably that I'd had to turn it off.
"What do you think?" He was asking me again, already knowing the answer, making me figure it out for myself. Goddamn him. I nodded hesitantly. "That's right. But only when we're alone in the house, only when you have your collar on. Now come here. Stay on your knees."
He pulled me around until I was kneeling between his spread thighs. He'd liked our talk too, the evidence was right in front of me, over eight inches long and straining at the front of his cargo pants. I licked my lips, and his eyes went hot. He took my head between his two hands, and pulled it to his crotch.
"Smell it," he commanded. "Get your face in there. Now lick." I extended my tongue, and lapped at his crotch, soaking it with my spit, mouthing him through his pants. His hips were jerking by the time he pulled me off. "Get me out," he ordered, and I did, with trembling hands, my mouth watering for him. "I love you, Seb," he said quietly, and I nodded, before he forced my mouth open and shoved his cock down my throat.
I gagged and choked, and tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let me. "No, relax. You're okay. Breathe through your nose." I could feel my nostrils flaring, full of his musk, as I struggled to obey, and my throat slowly relaxed. "Okay. Use your tongue." I swept it around the full head of his cock, tasting his salty precum, still gagging a little, but drifting away to that good place inside my head that comes when Lance is using me. His cock slipped over my tongue and battered the back of my throat, as I knelt passively as he fucked my mouth. When he finally came, I didn't even consider not swallowing, and took all four strong jets of his cum down my throat. He pulled me away, finally, and I licked him one last time.
"You're mine, forever," he said, staring me straight in the eye. I nodded, all fight gone from me. I was his. Forever.
"Yes sir," I agreed, and he smiled at me brilliantly.
"Now go take care of your chores. Don't forget your singing. And Seb, do you know what a safe word is?" I nodded. "I want you to choose one for yourself. You're not to use it unless you're really on the edge, or if you're in real panic. If you use it, whatever we're doing stops in an instant."
"Okay." I stood, careful and slow, my cock hard between my legs.
"Okay?"
"Um. Yes, sir." He grinned, and patted my hip.
"And baby, you'd better find a way to make that wood disappear. I mean it. Learn to control yourself, or I'll do it for you."
With his warning ringing in my ears, I left to start my chores.
[end part two]