Date: Tue, 2 Apr 2013 18:05:23 +0000
From: white collar <white_collar@hotmail.com>
Subject: Converted to cock-sucker - part 3 - Gay Authoritarian

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Chapter 4

After he left the steam-room, I just sat there, trying to put together what
had happened to me and trying to see an end-point: I couldn't.  The facts
were these: up until yesterday evening, I'd been a perfectly happy, if
somewhat larcenous, account exec, known to himself and the world as an
attractive straight man with a lovely wife and darling children.  Now, I'd
sucked two men's cocks, watched a very kinky video that seemed to preordain
my future, joined a gay faggot group, requested "training" and had been
humiliated by being forced to drink my latest cock's piss.  What the hell
was going on?  And what was I supposed to do about it.  Once again, I
realized that my options were pretty limited and pretty bleak.  Either I
did what Greg told me to do or my life was ruined.  My only hope was that
he wouldn't expose me and that, in time, he'd get bored and lose interest
in me and my "services" as he called it.  I clung to that hope.

I picked myself up and tried to appear casual, wrapping a towel around my
waist, and went to the showers, my mind in a turmoil of indecision, fear
and shame.  I entered the shower room and turned on a tap.  The bitter
aftertaste of piss was in the back of my throat and I opened my mouth to
wash the taste away.  Then I felt a hand on my butt.

"Don't like the taste boy?"

I froze; I didn't have to turn around to see who it was.

He continued squeezing my ass.

"One day, we'll take it to another level," he said, squeezing to emphasize
his words.  "I'll help you get used to the taste of a man's piss.  You
probably don't know this, but I'm a friend of Greg's.  I thought I
recognized you and I texted him after you sucked me off.  He was very
pleased and told me to be sure to give you his congratulations on a job
well-done.  Believe me, cock-sucker, you'll be seeing me again!"

He released my butt and I heard his footsteps smacking across the wet floor
as he left the shower room.  I grabbed hold of the shower spigot and
slumped against the wall.  What the fuck!

I waited in the shower room for a long time.  I didn't want to see this guy
again!  Eventually, I knew it was time to get out, dry off and get dressed.
Hopefully, he was gone by now.

I didn't see him in the locker room and hurriedly dressed and got out of
there.  When I got home, Elaine was still out, so I thought I'd take a
moment to check my Yahoo account, just in case Greg had instructions for
me.  One thing I was sure of: I didn't want to let too much time go by
without checking in, because he might send me new orders and I knew that
I'd pay dearly if I failed him.  (Listen to me: "failed him", as though he
depended on me for something.  But in truth, I depended on him and his
silence, which was being bought at the price of my obedience, so I knew if
I "failed him", I was failing myself and my family, as twisted as that all
sounds.  It's amazing what we can explain away when the motivation hits our
weakest point.)  Well, there was a message from him.

"Well maggot, I see that you're coming along well.  My friend tells me he
encountered you at the gym and he had you give him a nice blow-job and then
drank his piss for him.  Was that good, hmmmm?  Trust me, you will be
getting more where that came from.  As for now, you will no longer wear
underwear, either pants or shirt.

"Now, I want you to send a message to the faggot group..."

I logged onto my Yahoo account and wrote the message as Greg had ordered:

"Greg's cock-sucker here.  Master Greg has ordered me to only refer to him
as 'Master' from now on.  He expects all the other cock-suckers on this
group to remember that he is my master and he knows the other masters won't
forget.  He has ordered me to tell you that I sucked another man's cock
today in the steam-room at the gym and then drank his piss.  I hated it,
but I did it.  I am Master's straight cock-sucker and I'm deeply ashamed
and humiliated.  Thank you Master."

My stomach churned as I typed.  Every word I wrote was true, except for the
"Thank you Master."  I hated what he'd done to me and what I feared he was
going to do to me as he took me deeper and deeper into sexual slavery and
exploitation.  What I couldn't explain or understand was why my dick was
pressing against my pants.

Elaine walked in just as I clicked on the "Send" button.  I quickly logged
off and shut-down my laptop and ran to help her with the groceries and
other packages.  We had a lovely evening and she made me forget all about
Greg (almost!) and his friend (again, almost!).  Sunday passed quickly and
leisurely.  But soon enough, it was Monday.

Monday morning, I re-read Greg's, I mean Master's message, just to make
sure I hadn't forgotten anything.  I dressed as instructed, without
underpants and realized how strange it felt.  My dick and balls, always
used to being coddled in cotton or silk, were now hanging free and rubbing
against the rough fabric of my suit pants.  Glancing down, I could see that
their outlines were obvious and I felt a moment's panic: how was I going to
disguise this?  Buttoning my jacket, I realized, provided adequate cover,
though most of my co-workers were used to seeing me in a shirt and tie, as
once I arrived in the office, the jacket went onto the hanger behind my
door.  Full suits were usually only worn when there were important client
meetings.  Oh fuck, I thought, let them wonder.  There was nothing I could
do about it, unless I wore underpants to the office and then removed them
before going to see Greg, I mean Master, at noon.  But what if he were to
surprise me during the morning and order me into his office for inspection.
So I decided just to chance being seen.  Most people might wonder, but very
few would have the nerve to ask, especially the women.

Running for the train, I felt the friction on my genitals and that made me
hard, which only made matters worse.  Pulling my jacket closed, I shuffled
through the cars and found a seat, where I settled down and used my
newspaper to hide the obvious anatomical outlines at my crotch.

Chapter 5

During the morning, I tried to remain seated behind my desk.  Mid-morning,
I forgot and got up to get a cup of coffee.  As I paused at my admin,
James' desk, he glanced at my crotch and his eyebrow rose noticeably, but
he said nothing.  At noon, on the dot, I knocked on Greg's door.

"Enter", I heard.

I went in and closed the door behind me.

"Reporting for duty sir," I said, snapping to attention.  I was amazed at
how much Greg, or Master, was bringing out the former Marine in me.

"Lock the door," he ordered.  "Then strip and stand at attention."

I almost hesitated, but realized I'd better not make him angry and so,
after locking the door, removed my jacket, dropped it on his couch,
followed by my shirt, shoes and socks and pants, before returning to
attention.

"Put your clothes in the coat closet," Greg ordered.  "They need to be out
of sight.  You will follow this protocol every time you're here for
service, unless instructed otherwise.  Clear maggot?"

"Sir, yes sir," I answered smartly, and did as he ordered.

There were hangers in the closet for my jacket, shirt and pants and I
quickly put my clothes out of sight before turning back to face him and
snapped to attention.

"Good maggot," he said, rising and coming from behind his desk.  "I'm happy
to see you know how to follow orders.  You will never wear underwear again,
so long as you're working for me."

He didn't even bother to ask me if I understood.  He knew his words were
clear and he knew I had no choice, unless I wanted to kiss everything
important to me goodbye.  He circled me slowly, his hands on my body.  He
pinched my nipples, making me draw a quick breath in discomfort.  Then he
hefted my cock and balls.  I kept my eyes straight ahead just as I'd been
trained to do in boot camp.  Looking me in the eyes, he raised his left
hand an brought it down sharply on my dick, which was resting on the palm
of his hand.  I sucked in my breath at the pain and shock and struggled not
to move or pull away from him.  I'd already learned that, as they say in
that science-fiction movie "resistance is futile".

"Good," he said quietly.  "Very good.  You're learning."

He continued circling me like a wolf menacing its prey.  His hands went to
my ass.  He squeezed my globes roughly and spread them apart, sticking a
finger in between my cheeks.  He withdrew his finger from my crack and
shoved it into my mouth.

"Suck," he ordered.

When I'd wetted it, he pulled his finger from my mouth and pushed it once
again, between my ass cheeks.  It snaked its way into my hole and I once
again drew a sharp breath.  No man, other than my doctor, had ever put
anything in my hole.  Instinctively, I knew this wouldn't be the last thing
I was forced to admit and I shuddered in a combination of dread and
excitement.  This sensation was entirely new to me and I realized every
nerve ending was quivering inside my anus.  He withdrew him finger and,
with his left hand still bracing my ass, moved his hand around my head from
behind, pushing his finger into my mouth.

"Clean," he ordered.

I sucked on his finger, tasting for the first time, the bitter, earthy,
acrid tang of a butt-hole; my butt-hole.  Tears sprang to my eyes.  I knew
it was a flavor I would come to know much better.  He pushed more fingers
into my mouth, spreading my jaws wide while he pulled my head back.  He was
ravishing my mouth, my will and my very being, turning me into an object of
his lust for both sexual pleasure and power.  The thirst for power was
obvious; I was and would continue to be, an object for his domination and
pleasure and tears of humiliation streamed down my face as he made me choke
on his hand.  After a couple of minutes of my sucking on his hand, he
withdrew it and wiped it on my butt.  Then he smacked me hard.

"Get under my desk," he ordered.

I moved quickly around his desk, got down on my hands and knees and crawled
under his desk.  It was one of those executive numbers with skirts that go
to the floor so anyone standing or sitting on the opposite side sees
nothing under the desk.  For all they know, he could be sitting there
bottomless, unless he chooses to get up.  I was quickly to realize that was
both a good thing and a bad thing.

Greg sat down in his chair and moved forward.  There was a good deal of
space under there under normal circumstances, but normal circumstances
didn't include an average male body.  As he slid forward in his chair, he
spoke.

"Open my fly maggot," he said.  "Take out my cock.  Get your mouth on it."

I obeyed as quickly as I could and struggled to find a comfortable
position.

"My admin has spoken with yours and told him that you're on special
assignment for me for the next several weeks.  Anything that needs your
approval or review will come through my office and you will continue to be
out-of-pocket as far as your clients and staff are concerned.  Every
morning, you will report here to my office.  I will be giving you your
assignments and giving you the training you require.  There will be some
additional meetings and conferences, but you will be told about those when
you have a need to know.  Clear maggot?"

"Yes sir," I said, but, of course, since I had his cock in my mouth, it
came out as grunts.

"Good," he said.  "I will be seeing people as I always do.  It's essential
that you remain silent when people are in my office.  I'm sure you're aware
of that."

Again, "Yes sir."

"Good.  My friend Jon said you did quite well for a beginner.  He will
continue to train you at the gym and may even get involved in your
work-outs.  He and I both like boys who are fit and strong.  Makes for
better a better cock-sucker."

During his "discussion", I was busy trying to please him, as I was quickly
becoming used to this being my new "career goal": Please your boss (read
Master) and you'll be fine.  You may not advance, but neither will you be
destroyed.  I could feel his cock throbbing against my soft palate and
thought he was about to come.  Then, suddenly, he pulled out.

"I'm not ready to come yet.  We'll finish off the day with that.  Sort of
your 'cocktail' before heading for home.  But for now, come out of there."

I clambered out and stood at attention.

"Over here," he ordered, snapping his fingers, and I followed him across
the room.

He opened a set of double doors, behind which was a rather shallow space.
There was a large wooden "X" inside with eye bolts at the ends of each arm
and others screwed into the wood at various places.

Master wrapped leather, fleece-lined cuffs around my wrists and then walked
behind me and tapped my right leg.  I raised my right foot and he put a
fleece-lined shackle around my ankle, then repeated the action with my
left.

"Stand on the platforms," he ordered.

At the base of each arm of the X was a small platform, obviously intended
to be stood upon.  I backed onto the platforms and stood with my back to
the cross.

"This is a St. Andrew's Cross," Master said.  "Designed after the patron
saint of Scotland as you can see.  It's used for immobilizing a slave.  Oh
yes, did I mention to you that you're now my slave?  I may have neglected
that.  But get used to it.  And remember, you're to call me 'sir' or
'Master'.  Always 'sir' when there are others present, unless they're aware
of what you are, as Jon is.  And he is 'sir' to you.  Any man is 'sir' to
you."

As he was instructing me, he was fastening first my wrists and then my
ankles to the cross.  When he'd finished, I realized I wasn't going
anywhere unless he permitted it.

"I'll be back in a few minutes slave," he said, slapping my face, then my
dick and closing the doors to the closet, leaving me in the dark.


To be continued.