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Disclaimer - If you're under the age of consent, go to bed. Watch Sesame Street. If gay sex bothers you, go to church, or something. Hit 'n'. Don't read it.
It's a quick write (sorry, I don't have endurance for tales that take more than a day to do. I guess I'm a sprinter, not a marathon runner) And it's m/m of course. I know some of you straight, but I'm hoping there's something in it to please all who are fans of mind games.
I hope you enjoy it. And if you did, please write and tell me.
A story for Jack -
"You really don't want to talk to him...." Jim whispered to Richard.
They were in the Spike, and Richard was idly cruising, casting his eyes like a net across the water. Who was here? Who was hot? The leathermen in the corner were always a potent fantasy for him, standing in a tight black knot, talking. Many were taller, large men, their mass being part of their appeal, and they knew that.
Richard himself was a large man, 6'1", 185 lbs. In his late twenties, he laughingly realized that he had turned himself into a gym queen, but he didn't quite remember when. It was all part of accepting being queer, to him, enjoying the culture. "Being a Chelsea Queen is a phase." he thought. It felt like part of the process, exploring conformity and clonehood, just to see how much of it attracted him. In the end, you found the place you were comfortable. Jim was Richard's pal at the gym, and bar buddy.
"He's trouble" Jim continued. The man he was talking about was a handsome, smaller man, in his early forties, and very attractive, with a wiry muscular build, suggesting the coiled power of a spring. But he was about 5'6" and both Jim and Richard were nearly a full head taller. What could possibly be threatening about this guy? Was he crazy, did he carry a weapon?
"What do you mean?" he asked Jim. The man was in the knot of leatherman behind the bar and near the restrooms, talking to another top, holding a beer bottle and smiling. He wore the regulation top uniform, leather chaps and jacket, biker cap, shades. A minimum of metal on the leather, so that he didn't cross over the line in leather, so often crossed, from hot to silly.
"You're his type." Jim answered. "Big, sandy hair and humpy. He loves that. I'm not sure what his first name is. I just know that I've had friends go out with him, and they come back a few...well, they're weird."
"Weird?"
"They do things...let's put it this way. He's a total top. They do stuff I never thought I'd see them agree to do...but it gets weirder."
Richard was fascinated as Jim continued.
"One guy I talked to acted like he always walked around with a leash in the Spike. He just told me he always wanted to and it felt comfortable. Another guy from the gym, I saw him in here, next to that guy, shirtless and with a slave band on his right arm. I mentioned it to him the next time in the gym. He looked at me like I was nuts."
"What?"
"Rick, he didn't know he had done it. He didn't remember...."
"Wha..." At that moment Richard noticed the leatherman facing him and froze. He thought he was staring at him, he felt his eyes, but in mirrored shades, how can one trully tell, except by the feeling?
"Oh, fuck me hard" Jim spat. "I'm an asshole. Now I couldn't keep you away from him if I tried. Look Rick. I'm sorry I ever mentioned it. But he's dangerous. Danger, Will Robinson."
At that moment, Richard knew that rough trade, like the Chelsea Gym, was all part of a lifestyle of which he was trying to make a map, to find his way. All the tastes, sweet and acid, had to be experienced. His crotch was hard, and he knew that he could very well end up sleeping with the guy. How bad could it be? He was a lot larger and heavier. If the guy was not carrying something he'd be all right. And he made a mental note not to take poppers from the guy, or do any heavy bondage. And he knew he might break every one of those rules. He had to see.
An hour passed before Jim drifted away, to cruise an angelic young man with soft eyes and a sweet smile. Leatherman would look at Richard occassionally, and go back to his beer and conversation. Sometimes he'd scan the room. Richard knew that Leatherman knew he was there. His gaze would rest on him a bit longer, but he showed no signs of breaking his composure. He'd go back to his conversation, and Richard would feel himself get sweatier, harder and more fidgety. He didn't notice how much he wanted this guy, how he had already created an overpowering creation in his mind, before he ever met the man.
The cruise finally came. Richard turned and realized that Leatherman was looking at him, and this time, maintaining his focus. Suddenly Richard felt naked, an object, but desirable and hot. He felt the sweat at the back of his neck, felt his biker jacket rub against it. He was surprised at the desperation he felt, and how transparent as well.
And then Leatherman moved. Moved towards him. Came to him as inexorably as time, as leisurely as disease. He stopped in front of him, Richard sweating, holding his glass, pulse racing. Leatherman paused, pursed his lips almost delicately, evaluating Richard. The he put his hand out and gently placed it on Richard's crotch.
Richard gasped.
Leatherman found the outline of Richard's balls, and felt under them, enjoying Richad's reaction. He did nothing but watch him at first. The, finally:
"Finish your drink." He moved Richard's hand with the glass to his mouth, and guided him to finish it. Richard complied, and felt the rush of the alcohol. Leatherman took his glass from him, set it down, and guided him out of the Spike, Richard following his instructions mutely.
"My name is Jack". he said after they had walked half a block.
"Yes, sir." Richard replied instictively, not even needing for instructions on salutation. It felt right.
Jack looked at him. "Good boy." he said, and continued walking. "My apartment's not far from here. What did your friend tell you about me?"
Richard was startled. "That you were dangerous."
"And you're with me now. People like that are my best advertisement. They do my cruises for me."
Now, slowly, Jack went from silence to conversation. Mere trivialities, but steadily, carefully paced. "What a nice night it is. There's a certain quality in it, boy, a comfortable warmth. It's very special, nights like this are very special, because someting special and different is going to happen. Can you feel that, boy?"
Richard nodded and kept walking.
"And it makes you feel good, and tingly. Even now you can sense a slight tingle in your body, from the excitement and adventure. It may be in your fingers...or maybe your toes..but it begins now, boy. You know what it feels like, don't you?" Jack glanced at Richards right hand to see his fingers moving suddenly. And they were at his door.
Richard liked the place when he entered it, it was just a pleasantly decorated New York apartment, with no dungeon-like air in it, though he had expected it. Jack adjusted a dimmer way down and lit a single low candle on the coffee table as they went to sit down.
"Richard? Before we begin, I want you to relax." Jack said. "Everything's better if you're just relaxed. Are you relaxed?"
"Yes sir." Richard nodded, but he wasn't sure how relaxed he felt. There was no other direct source of light in the room other than the candle, and he found himself looking at it.
"That's a good boy Richard. Some of my boys get so relaxed just like that. That's how they relax so they can play. They just stare at the candle, while I talk to them. The candle's so nice and warm. You can feel that warmth can't you as you relax."
Richard nodded as Jack continued talking.
"It begins in the tips of your fingers, because they're closest to the candle. It moves up your arms from there. It's warm. Warm and soothing.
Feel it. Where you feel the warmth, you relax."
Richard found all this odd, but enjoyable. As long as it was enjoyable, why not, he asked once, and didn't wonder why his hands felt warm, in fact.
"From your arms, Richard, it radiates, down your body, up into your head down your chest, to your stomach..." Jack enumerated the parts of Richard's body as Richard felt them relax. It felt great to him, merely felt like a happy extension of the drink in the bar.
Jack felt his crotch stiffen as Richard was graually unable to keep his eyes open, following Jack's instructions. The induction was his favorite part, bringing the boy under his control. It made him feel deliciously immoral. Here was this hot stud on his sofa, with his eyes closed, breathing lightly. Richard was talented, Jack knew it instinctively, and it was a good partnership. He wanted to please Jack already, Jack was merely showing him a far more intense way of doing it. In an hour or so, he'd have that boy agreeing to things and seeing and believing things that if he told him about at the beginning of the night, he'd never have believed him. He ignored his cock for now. All in good time, and he wanted to get Richard much deeper into hypnosis before that sort of play.
"Richard, I need to talk to you, and you're going to find it easy to answer me, aren't you? In fact, your speaking will make it easier to speak, and make you more relaxed. Your speaking just makes you more relaxed."
"Yes." Rcihard's voice was clear, but dulled.
"Do you have anything special to do tomorrow?"
"No."
"That's very good, Richard. We're going to spend tomorrow together. You're going to be more relaxed than you've ever been. And you'd like that, wouldn't you?"
Richard nodded his head.
"There's a lot you have to learn, Richard. I can't possibly teach it all to you in a day, but there's a lot I can. You feel like it's easy to talk to me, don't you?"
"Yes."
"And do you know what's happened to you?"
Richard nodded. "I think you hypnotized me."
"But you like it, don't you?
"Yes. I like it."
"I'm going to use this special feeling that hypnosis brings to teach you how to be the hottest slaveboy ever. You can tell me the truth, Richard, it's really easy to tell me exactly what you feel, because you're hypnotized and don't have to worry. Do you like the idea of being taught to be the hottest slaveboy ever?"
There wasn't even a brief hesitation. "Yes." Jack smiled as his cock stiffened again. There was no rush that compared to this.
"And everytime you say yes, it makes you even more deeply hypnotized, and brings you closer to your goal. Do you agree Richard?"
"Yes"
"Every time you nod or say yes...you feel yourself go deeper into hypnosis."
Richard nodded.
"Richard...I want you to see the perfect slaveboy in your mind. Tell me when you see him."
Richard shifted on the couch. Jack watched his eyelids start to flutter, then he nodded.
"Tell me about him, Richard. What is he wearing?"
"Collar. Jockstrap."
"That's right, boy."
"Muscles."
"Just like yours, boy."
"Bigger...smoother."
"Let's see then, boy. I want you to stand up and get undressed, boy. You're so relaxed now that opening your eyes won't affect how relaxed you are. Do you agree, boy?"
Richard nodded.
On the count of three I want you to open your eyes slowly, and get adjusted to it. It's easy to do that, isn't it? Easy and you want to do it."
Richard opened his eyes when Jack counted.
"Stand up and get undressed, boy."
And Richard did so, obediently.
"I think you have a very hot body, boy." Jack said. "It's a natural body for a slave boy. But you think it should be different?" Jack moved over and started to caress Richard's nipples.
Richard nodded.
"Then let's start." Jack walked Richard into his bedroom, and stood him naked in front of a full length mirror. He took a jock strap out of a drawer and helped Richard into it. Richard felt delicious. He then removed a collar from the drawer on his nightstand.
"Kneel, boy. When you feel your knees touch the floor, it makes you even more relaxed, doesn't it."
Richard knelt, and nodded. Jack put a collar around his neck. There was his beautiful muscle puppy, jock on and collared. Attentive and obedient, and loving it. It was going to be a wonderful night.
"Look in the mirror Richard." Jack was moving Richard's face into the crotch of his chaps, gently taking the back of his neck and guiding him to nuzzle like the good puppy he was rapidly becoming. "It's so hot, isn't it"
Richard nodded and Jack continued. "And every time you nod or say yes, you become more relaxed, and more obedient, and closer to your goal of being the perfect slaveboy. Lick my crotch. Such a good slaveboy. Such a good boy. Thre are no distractions. I want you to listen to my voice, and obey it, and lick my crotch."
And Rcihard listened, and licked. He felt wonderful, a little like he was buzzed. He couldn't believe how aroused he was.
"Now Richard, what did the perfect slaveboy look like?" Jack asked.
"Big muscles..."
"And?"
The answer came from far away...."Smoother."
Jack looked at the downy coat of puppy fur traveling between his boy's nipples and down his abdomen. There wasn't much, but Richard was right. Of course it had to go. "I'm going to take care of that right now, Richard."
Richard said nothing.
"Richard, a good boy is a clean boy. And you're such a good boy, aren't you?"
Richard nodded.
"Then let's make you clean. Come with me to the bathroom, boy."
And Richard was led obediently to the bathroom. Jack used both a clipper and then a razor, and shaved Richard's chest, pits and crotch. He liked the soft hair on his legs, so he left it.
"Now you can see what a hot slaveboy you are, boy. It feels so good to have a master. Say that, boy."
"It feels so good to have a master."
"My greatest joy is to please my master. Repeat, please."
"My greatest joy is to please my master."
"I am the hottest, most obedient slaveboy in the world."
"I am the hottest, most obedient slaveboy in the world."
Jack couldn't handle it any longer, as Richard spoke the last sentence, he put his hands on Richard's shoulders. Richard was down on his knees, in his own hair on the bathroom floor, from the merest touch as Jack opened the fly of his crotch.
"Suck boy. That's a good boy."
And Richard didn't remember it the next day, but he gave Jack the best blowjob he had ever given up to that point in his life.
Jack spent the better part of the night training Richard's ass as the greedy puppy-boy's anus swallowed his fingers, a dildo and his cock. Jack began to wonder if this boy shouldn't be trained for a fist, but knew that tonight was not the night. The slower the conquest, the more delicious. The boy was so intent on pleasing him, and so suggestible, that heavy stuff seemed beside the point. But not the idea of showing off his new boy.
Jack made sure that Richard had a word that brought him easily back into trance, and kept Richard in and out of trance for the better part of the next day, training him, deepening his responses, thrilling himself by how accepting and imaginative his new boy was, and how thrilled by seeing himself in this new light Richard was.
"I can tell you work out, boy. You have good pecs. But you think a slave boy should be bigger, don't you?"
"Yes"
"And every time you say yes, or nod, Richard, you become even more deeply hypnotized, and an even better slaveboy."
Richard nodded. Jack handed him a set of light barbells.
"Did you know that these barbells are special, Richard? They're magical, because they are a hundred times more effective than the ones in the gym. Eash time you lift them, as you look in the mirror, you can see your muscles getting bigger and more defined. Isn't that amazing?" Jack knew he didn't want this boy to do too much with this suggestion. He was actually very nicely developed as he was.
Richard nodded and started to lift as he looked in the mirror. Jack watched his surprise register as he could see his chest become more pronounced and cut.
"Do you like that, boy?"
"It's beautiful."
"Just a few more. Not too much. I don't want you to get musclebound. Look at it, boy. Admire yourself in the mirror. Pose for me and show me what a hot slaveboy you are."
Richard complied innocently, happily, his cock hard, though he didn't even notice.
"You're the hottest slaveboy in the world, aren't you? We need to show everyone that. That's right, we do. Tonight, we're going to show everyone at the Spike that you're the hottest slaveboy in the world. There's nothing that you'd like more, is there?"
And Richard nodded, in complete happy agreement.
Jim hadn't seen Richard leave, and he didn't answer his phone the next day, so he did get a little perturbed. He figured he'd go down to the Spike the next night and see if any of the bartenders saw Richard leave, or if he'd show up there himself.
His jaw dropped open when he looked at the corner where the leathermen were. Richard was there.
His feet had sandals on them, to protect them from beer and glass. Other than that, on his shaved oiled body, there was a jockstrap, and a collar and leash around his neck. Jack was holding the leash in his hand, and moving his hand appreciatively in a circular motion on Richard's buttocks.
Richard's gaze was fixed on a poster, smiling slightly. He didn't look at anything else. After all that was what his Master had told him to look at, and he felt comfortable and undisturbed.
One of the other leathermen talking to Jack tweaked Richard's nipple appreciatively. At other times a hand would rub on his pouch, or explore his butt cheeks. He didn't really notice these intrusions. The only thing he felt was his Master's hand in its gentle cricular motion around his ass, because he knew that with each circle, he'd get more relaxed and less concious of his surroundings. And he wouldn't need to move at all, until his Master told him to change positions. And he was happy to do it.
"Richard! What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you on something? Answer me!" Jim was practically shouting in Richard's face, which was impassive, with a barely perceptible smile, like La Gioconda. Jack answered for him.
"He's fine, boy. But he can't hear you."
"What the fuck did you do to him...I'm calling the police!"
Jack's eyebrow arched slightly. "And tell them what? He looks happy to me."
Jim realized the ludicrousness of his position and stood looking at Jack in a mixture of horror and confusion. Jack smiled at him benevolently.
"He'll be fine the next day, and if you tell him what you saw, he'll look at you like you've lost your marbles. So tell me boy..."
"What?"
"Would you like to be next?"