Date: Sat, 5 Mar 2011 13:29:03 -0800
From: MACK Wayne <mackxwayne@hotmail.com>
Subject: A slave's Induction - Ch 2

Disclaimer: All rights reserved.  No part of the story can be reproduced in
any form without the express permission of the author, me.


A slave's Induction

Ch 2 - Home with Bill and Nick

	In my state, I wasn't connected with time too well, so when we
pulled into the well lit area and came to a stop, I couldn't have told you
with any assurance, how long we'd been traveling.  It seemed like around 45
minutes possibly.  And I had no idea where we were.  I felt a little
drunker than I might have been, even for the amount I had to drink, but
didn't think too much of it.  Nick turned off the engine and the two men
got out as I heard the steel roll up slam shut behind us to a very large
garage.  I grabbed my underwear and started to put them on as Bill opened
my door, "It would continue to please me if you didn't do that Tom."
	I put them back and said, "Ok." A handsome young man came from
inside the house, and welcomed the Boss and Nick home.  I got out of the
car feeling a bit disarmed, being naked while Bill and Nick were dressed.
The concrete was cold on my bare feet but it almost didnt register.  I
reached for my neatly folded pile of clothes with boots on top.  As I
scooped them up into my arms and turned around, Bill took them and handed
them to the young naked fellow who was obviously a houseboy.
	"See that these are washed and folded for our guest here," were the
accompanying instructions.
	"That's ok Bill," I said, "You don't have to do that.  They're fine
really." The young man disappeared, my cloths along with him as Bill
addressed me, "They were spilled on and smell like smoke from the bar.
They'll be better freshly washed.  That is," he added, "If you don't mind."
	They were already gone. What was I going to say, "No I'd rather
them smell up your house and remain soiled?" Like with the car keys, I
yielded to Bill's wish for my clothes as well, and asked if I could just
have my wallet.
	Bill told me everything would be looked after, that nothing was
going anywhere, and then he said, "You worry too much Tom.  You need to
learn how to relax and let go a bit.  You're a good guy.  I can tell.  I
wouldn't have invited you back here if I didn't think so, but u are a
little up tight." He sighted his reasons for the accusation.  "You were a
little slow about taking off your shirt for me, you hesitated with the
drink I bought you, you were reluctant to undress for me, you had to be
convinced to let me take care of your car.  Now, you don't want your
clothes to be taken care of as pleases me and you are asking for your
wallet.  What would you do with it?  Where would you put it, up your ass?"
He said laughing - almost belittling me.
	Nick stood by silently and Bill crossed his powerful hairy arms as
if waiting for an answer.  I didn't know what to say.  The only thing that
felt like it had merit was to agree with him.  It felt disarmingly strange
to be standing there naked in front of these men especially with as little
control as I had.  No car, no clothes, no ID, no money, and someone used to
getting his way, pissed at me and yelling at me.  Well maybe not yelling,
but talking sternly.
	"What if I decided I wanted to go?  What would I do, drunk and
naked?" I thought.  I was already committed to stay the night with these
two beautiful men.  Tomorrow, I would just take off in the morning.
Meanwhile the crossed armed god named Bill was looking at me and not
moving.
	"I'm sorry Bill," I said.  "You're right.  You're being so good and
nice to me to let me stay in your home, and I'm behaving like an idiot.
I'm really sorry man.  I'll relax."
	He made me promise to do just that and to trust his judgment - that
I was drunk and he was not.  And then he adjourned us all to the house.
"More like it," he said.  "Lets go inside and get you something to help you
relax and we'll watch some very interesting footage I believe you will
enjoy." He put his hand on the back of my neck and guided me toward a door.
Even in my feeling more inebriated state, there was that electrical feeling
again, goose flesh just from his touch.
	We entered a large, well appointed multipurpose room.  He told me
to sit down.  I picked a spot on a comfortable sofa and Bill directed Nick
to make me a stiff drink.  He selected a DVD and put it in the player and
hit the button.  He said he had some stuff to take care of and disappeared
out another door before I could question him about the "stiff drink."
	The picture on the screen came to life.  It was Bill, working out,
in a pair of shorts and socks and boots.  It was absolutely mesmerizing and
as erotic as could be imagined.  Me, and my cock, were enjoying every frame
of what we were seeing, when Nick came up from behind me.  He pulled back
on my head so that I was looking at the ceiling and told me to open up.  I
opened my mouth waiting for a kiss from the god but what I got was a
directive.  "Say aaahh Tom, and stick your tongue way out."
	I thought, "Ok I'll play your game." As I did, he dropped a large
capsule into the depth of my throat and said, "Swallow Tom." I hadn't much
choice.  He felt my throat for compliance, and then told me to open and
stick my tongue out again.
	"Ok," he said with resolve, satisfied the capsule had been
swallowed.
	As he walked back to the bar to get my drink, I turned around in my
seat and hollered out, "OK!  OK?  What's OK?  You just made me swallow a
pill and I don't even know what it was."
	Just as calm as if I were being conversational in my tone, he said,
"And now, I'm going to give you that drink Bill wanted you to have.  I kept
objecting as he walked in front of me and faced me.  He handed me the drink
and said, "It's up to you.  These are just things Bill wanted you to have
to help you to relax, like you agreed to do for him.  Do you remember
promising to relax for him?"
	I did remember and said so.  Everything seemed to be for Bill
though.  He needed to be kept pleased and happy.  What about me, I thought.
I started to take exception, with, "but this" and "but that," all
self-pitiful arguments.  Nick let me complain on for about a minute before
he stopped me.  "Ok," he said, "You got it out of your system.  Now don't
be up tight, and relax.  The pill's going to help you.  Don't make me tell
Bill about your reaction to something as simple as my giving you a pill.  I
wont tell him if you straighten out right now and finish that drink before
he returns.  He'll be gone at least ten minutes."
	The place I was operating from was a different place, a place where
logic was different.  I was confused and seemed to be getting more so.
With resignation, I issued one last quietly uttered, rather pitiful, "But,"
to the one who seemed my baby sitter.  I'd never felt so much like I'd
returned to my childhood and had been a bad boy in need of correction.  I
put the glass to my lips and drank several gulps before stopping.  It was
almost pure vodka like at the bar.  I shuddered and said so to Nick's
admonition, "No complaining.  You're going to relax like you promised
Bill. Right?"
	I nodded in the affirmative and drank some more and couldn't
believe myself.  I asked if I could have ice in the glass and Nick's
reaction was one of a congratulatory nature, "That's better Tom.  See
you're relaxing, and Bill's gonna be pleased.  Yes you can have all the ice
you like.  Go over to the bar and get all you want.  Just be sure I can see
the glass at all times."
	I got up and carefully made my way around to the back of the bar,
set the glass on the top in plain view and filled it with ice.  "Thanks
man," I said, and again, I got congratulatory affirmations.  "See.  That's
how you relax and go with the flow.  You need to learn to do that right
from the get go.  Loose the knee-jerk reaction and drama that are so
pointless, and only upset and irritate the ones you want to please most."
	I drank several swallows right there.  "Atta boy," Nick said." The
pill you took for Bill works best with alcohol.  He told me he gave it to
me the way he did so he would be able to tell Bill that I took and
swallowed it right down without a question.
	"I guess I should thank you then," I said.
	"Yeah," he agreed. "I'd accept that."
	I thanked him for what I had yelled at him for earlier, and he
looked pleased with himself.  I returned to my seat on the sofa, held my
drink and worked on it steadily as I watched the beautiful man on the
screen work his amazing muscles, his visage glistening with sweat, and body
hair shimmering from it in the down lights of his gym.  I would find out
that room was next door.  Finally the last drops of the drink had been
downed, and I told Nick I was done.
	Everything was starting to look different, and I was much more
relaxed.  I knew Bill had seen to it I got drunk and needed to spend the
night, but it didn't seem unfair.  I was a little fuzzy in the thinking
department.  Nick was guiding my thoughts about Bill.  I began to see him
in a new light as I looked at his powerful form on the screen in front of
me.  He seemed deserving of the respect and pleasure he required, and
presumed.  It made him even more god-like, with powers over the rest of us.
I couldn't wait till he came back and I could see him again.
	As I heard the knob being turned, I looked from the screen, to the
door.  The real thing was entering the room.  The god I'd been watching on
the screen was here now.  Enthralled, I watched him come toward me not
wanting to blink for missing a millisecond of his presence.  He strolled
over still fully dressed in his tight jeans and worn thin T Shirt, to the
sofa where I was sitting completely naked, and spoke to Nick on the way.
"How are we doing?" was the question as he reached me and looked down at
me, seemingly from on high.
	"Good Boss," Nick said.  Bill sat down close on the sofa.  There
was that unavoidable mesmerizing scent.  From the table in front of me he
picked up and inspected the tall glass I had put there empty but for the
ice.
	"I see you finished your drink Tom." Without giving me a chance to
answer he continued with Nick, to enquire about the pill.  As he said he
would, Nick told Bill I'd taken it right down with no questions, and, as he
said he wouldn't, nothing was said about my outbreak.  Bill put his hand
presumptively on my inner thigh and as if he'd been doing it for ever,
moved it as high up into my groin as it would go next to my cock and balls.
The words came almost as if Franz Mesmer himself was speaking them, "So are
you feeling relaxed for me.  You're much more focussed, and you feel glad
about that." He rubbed lightly and it felt so very good, like his arm
around my shoulder earlier.  "It's ok.  You're safe here.  Close your eyes
and put your head back."  As I did I began to respond and heard a gentle
shushing sound that stopped me, "Just listen.  Play the footage in your
head you've been enjoying of me in the gym.  Think about my powerful scent
you love so much.
	As I began to inhale deeply to pick it up I felt something.  Bill
had run his fingers through his hairy armpit and was wiping them under my
nose.  Poppers had never had such an effect.  As he spoke his voice had
such a soothing effect.  I know he spoke for a while longer.  I heard his
voice but as if my conscious was disconnected, it must have entered my
subconscious mind until a question was eliciting an answer, "But pleasing
me is the most important thing right Tom?"
	What came out in my relaxed, seeing-more-clearly state of mind, as
naturally as if I'd been saying it all my life?  "Yes Sir, Boss." Seemed as
though I remembered Nick telling me it would be a good way to address Bill.
As if returning from a long relaxing vacation, I was back - sitting up -
eyes open and a part of the present.
	Bill confirmed either "Sir," or "Boss," was just the way he liked
me addressing him, and that I should stick with it.  He told Nick to put in
some of the "other" footage for us to watch.  He congratulated, encouraged
and affirmed my evolving state of mind, "You're seeing things more clearly.
You're feeling differently about things - about me.  You're sorry for being
disrespectful and for not trusting me, and I'm sure if given the chance,
you'd make up a nice apology to me for those things, wouldn't you?"
	"Yes Sir."
	"Well later I'll give you that opportunity.  For now though, lets
watch." Nick hit the remote and the screen changed from Bill's work out to
a naked man being strapped spread eagle to a St Andrews cross type affair.
He looked terrified, and was crying and begging the man securing him, to
please not hurt his balls any more.  We watched as the man tortured the
balls unmercifully telling his victim there was only one way to end the
pain.  He reminded the victim that he had to beg to have his balls removed.
And after about an hour of skewering and injecting them, pressing them
flat, beating them with implements and pulling them out from his body, he
did just that.  With tears in his eyes he pleaded resignedly to have them
removed.  He kept being told he couldn't be heard and the pain continued
until he was screeching a the top of his worn out lungs, "PLEASE CUT MY
BALLS OFF!" He was asked repeatedly, if he was sure that's what he wanted,
and he had to affirm each time that it was.  At the end, the victim's
tormentor banded the nut sack and sliced off the nuts just below the band.
The movie was paused.
	It was all I'd ever fantasized of, and more.  Bill had me playing
with myself during the whole video and told me to shoot, which I did in a
gusher.  "Good." Bill said, as he wiped some of it up and smeared it over
my mouth and face.  There was another video not unlike the first after it.
Bill had Nick suck my dick to get me hard again during the viewing.  I was
somewhat taken aback by it all, and asked my host where he'd gotten those
kinds of videos.
	"I make them," he said.  They are my productions.  They are
marketed in a way that cannot be traced back to me, to men interested in
these things.  They pay a lot of money for the privilege of viewing
something so unusual." Then with pride he added, "Good aren't they?"
	Somehow this brought reality a little too close to home
so-to-speak, but I answered with the only answer, "Yes Sir Boss.  Amazing
Sir." They WERE after all.  He said he thought I'd like them.  He said he
had wanted me to see some of the footage because he had a proposition for
me.
	He stood up and started taking off his clothes right in front of me
and told me he was going to let me feel him all over, however I wanted,
wherever I wanted. I watched transfixed as his whole body began to be
exposed.  The sense of privilege I felt, and the ecstasy of seeing him
becoming naked in front of me, would be hard to describe.  And as he
lowered his underwear, his proud oversized manhood became my fixation.  I'd
done plenty of imagining, and it far exceeded my wishful expectations -
appropriate for a god.  Even with permission, it felt presumptuous to do
what was being allowed.  Looking longingly at the beauty in front of me, he
knew exactly my mind, so he assured me, "Don't worry. There's no place you
can't touch, no place you can't go."
	He reminded me of smelling him up close, and raised his arms up,
and interlaced his fingers behind hid head.  I stood immediately.  The
phenomenal scent drew me toward the deep hairy pit.  I stopped, my nose
short of contact, and inhaled deeply remembering how much I wanted to be
here on first smelling him at the bar.  He knew what I needed but was
reluctant to do, "Go ahead," he prompted assertively.
	I buried my nose in his crop of pit hair and went to heaven
inhaling slowly and deeply. It was a smell I would remember forever, on a
man I would remember forever.  He told me to enjoy myself and not be shy.
As I inhaled I began gingerly, to feel the god standing there.  My hands -
one in front and one in back traced through the thick body hair.  I felt
his powerful thick shoulder with them both.  Then my left traced over hair
covered pecs with enormous fingertip sized nipples protruding - while the
right did the same with his dimpled upper back. Graduating equally, each
hand felt its way ecstatically downward - left, through the hair covered
stomach, tracing each exaggerated crevasse between rippled abs - the right,
the small of the back and increased turf of forest above his ass. And the
greatest privilege of all - my left hand reached the dense bush atop his
manhood - fingers mingling with it and tugging lightly at it - lingering -
having to remind myself of what I'd been told, "Its ok. There's no place
you cant go - nothing you cant feel."
	How was it I was so favored as to be given this privilege, were my
inescapable thoughts.  I allowed myself just to touch with fingertips the
base of his burgeoning stalk of life growing out of that black mat of
heavily forested bush.  Wrapping my hand around it I felt that sense of
overload.  I was light headed.  Maybe the drug - no - it didn't matter.  I
was holding the cock of a god in my hand while my face was in his armpit -
each breath of the air allowing me to live, filled with his powerful
smell. I began to sweat as I stroked his cock.  It began to harden, and
felt even bigger than it looked.
	Tearing my focus from the preoccupation of my left hand, my right,
having passed through the extra turf above his bubble cheeks, began to
explore the deepening hair filled valley leading to his most private place
of all - and reaching "ground zero," his asshole. I wondered what it would
be like to feel inside.  That was a boundary I would not presume to push,
but feeling his ass crack and cock at the same time put me in a transfixed
place of Nirvana where I admit I lingered almost unable to break away.
	I did break reluctantly away from pit and cock and ass. I knelt
down, and took pendulous hair covered balls in my hands.  I worshipped his
manhood, rubbing my face with massive cock and balls, kissing and inhaling
his masculinity.  With my face lingering as long as possible, I began to
focus on his leg.  My left hand pushed up on the inner thigh next to his
balls as far into his groin as it would go. With the right one on the
outside, I massaged and kneaded the so personal place.  He elicited a moan,
and I felt my balls churn with a load that felt, for the first time, like
it could boil over on its own.  Slowly, downward, my hands traveled over
his thickly muscled thigh, knee, huge calf, ankle, and sturdy strong wide
size 13.  It all comprised to equal something akin to a massive support
column at the Acropolis.
	Each part was extraordinary.  After allowing my worship session on
one side, he lowered his arms and directed me to the other.  Armpit
unavailable, I concentrated on his massive arm before torso and downward
like before.  He must have allowed me a half hour of ecstasy for which I
felt utterly indebted. I had happily devoted myself to worshiping this fine
work of god art from the neck down as I was allowed and invited.  All the
hair, all the muscles, all the private places, were almost too much to
process.  It was the most compelling experience I'd ever known.  When he
told me it was enough, I thanked him profusely, dropped to the floor, and
kissed his feet.
	The big god-man looked down at me and laughed out loud, permitting
my doting expression of gratitude as he spoke to Nick, "I think he's
totally relaxed."
	"Yes Sir, "Nick said, "And definitely in touch with what you said
to him at the bar about maybe getting lucky tonight.  Right Tom? Have you
ever felt luckier?" He asked me.
	In my state of augmented, enhanced ecstasy, even Nick became "Sir,"
as I gave my emphatic answer from my place on the floor, "NO SIR!"
	As Bill allowed me to lavish my affection on his hairy feet, they
both laughed, "Oh yeah," Bill said looking down, "This boy is definitely in
my zone."
	The drug had had time to work.  It and the alcohol, along with my
already strong attraction to the man before me, were assuring the
supplicant he intended.

Comments welcome:
mackxwayne@hotmail.com