Date: Fri, 22 Aug 2014 13:16:37 -0400
From: Rafi Daud <rafidaud69@gmail.com>
Subject: Dr. Debt & His New Bitch, Chapter 4
This story is a fantasy set in the real world. Obviously, any
similarities between characters appearing in it and the real world are purely
coincidental. This is also copyrighted material. So while you're welcome to
make a personal copy for yourself, any other reproduction or reposting is not
allowed without the prior written consent of the author.
Please be aware that this chapter contains descriptions of consensual sexual activities involving
individuals under the age of 18. If the possession or receipt of such material violates the laws of your
domicile you are advised to immediately exit this document.
Any comments or criticisms should be directed to Rafi at
rafidaud69@gmail.com. While suggestions are welcomed, the four chapters of this
story are already written. I would, however, consider any suggestions in future
stories.
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DR. DEBT & HIS NEW BITCH
PART FOUR
Saturday morning passed uneventfully. Jen was pretty quiet and
Brady busied himself by cleaning the apartment. She left for work around
noon. At just about precisely 1:00 p.m., the phone rang. It was Heck. He
confirmed to Brady that he'd be arriving in an hour.
The first thing Brady did once he got off the phone was head to the
bathroom. He gave himself an enema and, after he voided it, got into the
shower and proceeded to shave his entire body. Having decided that
becoming Heck's bitch was the best solution to his problems, Brady wanted
to make sure that everything was as good as he could make it for their
first coupling. Now that he had made up his own mind to become the boy's
bitch, Brady needed to get Heck to agree to be his master.
Brady finished his preparations about 1:45 p.m. and, for the next
fifteen minutes, anxiously paced back and forth in his apartment. He
couldn't believe how nervous he felt. It was like he was a bride on her
wedding night, hoping to please her new husband. When he consciously made
that comparison in his mind, he realized how apt it was. The only
difference was that, if he did please his new 'husband,' there'd be no
going back, at least not for Brady. Once Heck agreed to be his master and
Brady agreed to be his bitch, Brady would be totally under the boy's
control. There'd be no divorce unless Heck wanted it. And this wasn't
going to be any modern 'partnership.' Brady was going to be Heck's bitch
and totally subject to the teenager's will. No wonder he was so nervous.
Brady had just walked back into the living room from the entryway
when he heard a knocking at the door. He immediately turned around and
headed back into the entryway. When he came to the hallway mirror, he
paused to check himself out. Almost without any conscious thought, his
hands reached up and began squeezing his tits to plump them up. A second
later there was another knock on the door, this one louder and more
insistent. Brady took his hands off his pecs and hurried to open the door.
Heck was standing there, looking irritated. "Where were you,
dude?" he asked, as he walked into Brady's apartment. "I told you I was
coming by at 2:00 p.m. I don't like to be kept waiting."
"I'm sorry, Heck," Brady replied, following behind the boy as he
headed to the living room. It felt weird to be meekly apologizing to a
fifteen-year-old teenager but it dawned on Brady that this was the life he
was choosing - being a teenage boy's bitch. He could kiss his macho days
goodbye. He'd be the one taking the orders and doing what he was told from
now on. He was going to be the pussyboy in the relationship and he might
as well get used to it.
Once he was inside the apartment, the boy looked around. Then Heck
turned back to Brady. "Well, you need to be punished," he declared. "Is
that the chair he used when he spanked you?" the boy asked, pointing to
the chair at the end of the dining room table.
"Yes, Heck," Brady softly responded.
Heck walked over to it, flipped it around, and sat down on it.
"You, know the drill, Brady," Heck said, gesturing to his lap.
"Yes, Heck," Brady agreed as he walked over to the boy. Visibly
biting down on his lower lip, Brady lowered his body on to the boy's
thighs. He stifled a gasp as he felt Heck reach under his stomach and grab
Brady's balls and cock in his left hand, essentially immobilizing the man.
And then he moaned as Heck forcefully brought his right hand down on
Brady's naked ass-cheeks.
"One, thank you, sir," Brady immediately counted, as Dr. Debt had
trained him on the previous Friday.
Heck, however, stopped in mid-stroke. "What are you doing, Brady?"
he asked.
"I'm counting out the strokes, sir," Brady replied. "Dr. Debt says
a bitch always counts out each stroke while being spanked and thanks the
man for delivering it."
Heck thought about that for a moment and then smiled. He liked it.
And then he got an evil glint in his eye. "Didn't I tell you not to call
me 'sir?'" he demanded.
Brady could feel himself blushing. "Yes, you did. I'm
sorry.....master," he added.
"No," Heck shouted and delivered five hard smacks to Brady's ass.
"I'm not your master yet. I told you to call me Heck. Didn't I?" He gave
Brady's ass five more quick smacks.
"Yes, Heck. You did, Heck. I'm sorry, Heck," Brady immediately
replied, trying hard not to squirm as he could feel his ass beginning to
flare with heat. But his ass wasn't the only area where Brady could feel
heat. Brady could feel his boy-dick hardening even more inside Heck's
hand. Brady couldn't understand how it was happening but he was becoming
more and more sexually aroused while Heck spanked him. Just like he had
when Dr. Debt thrashed his ass on Friday. 'I must be a fucking bitch,'
Brady thought, 'if I'm getting sexually excited by getting spanked by a
fifteen-year-old kid.'
Because he had a grip on Brady's cock, Heck had also quickly
realized that Brady was turned on by being spanked. It was another aspect
of their relationship that blended well - Brady liked sucking Heck's dick
and Heck liked having Brady suck it. Now, Brady liked being spanked and
Heck had already decided that he liked spanking Brady's ass. Heck
definitely liked spanking the dude's ass. His own dick was hard as a rock
inside his pants and had been almost from the moment Brady had draped
himself across Heck's lap.
Heck had to fight off the urge to rip his own shorts off and begin
fucking Brady right then and there. Just looking at the fleshy mounds on
his lap, already turning red from his hand, Heck was pretty sure he was
going to enjoy fucking the dude. But Heck made himself wait. After all,
he had the whole afternoon. Fuck man, if things went like Heck thought
they would, he'd have all the time in the world to fuck Brady's ass. This
man was going to be his boy. No, not his boy; his bitch! This hot, sexy,
fully-adult male was going to be Heck's personal fuck-toy, ready to bend
over and take the teenager's hard cock up his pussy whenever Heck wanted.
Brady said he now had a pussy between his legs and Heck intended to treat
it just that way. As a pussy. As his pussy. So there was no need to
rush. Heck could take his time. Besides, Heck was sure he was going to
enjoy working on Brady's ass.
And Heck did, too. He spanked Brady hard for a good fifteen
minutes - until the man's butt was a glowing crimson; until Brady was
audibly sobbing on each smash; until Heck's own hand had begun to hurt.
The count reached 169 before he told Brady to stand up.
Brady stood in front of him, head cast down, the tears clearly
visible on his cheeks, his legs noticeably shaking. And then, with an
obvious effort of will, Brady forced himself to look up at Heck's face.
"Thank you, Heck," he said. "Thank you for spanking me."
It took all of the teenager's self-control to keep from shooting
off right then. It was so fucking hot having this muscular
twenty-five-year-old stud, whose ass had just been beaten to a fiery red,
standing submissively before Heck and actually thanking him for the
spanking he'd just administered. So fucking hot. Heck knew that it was
time.
"Go kneel on the sofa, bitch, legs spread apart, facing the wall,"
Heck suddenly ordered. "It's time I find out how good a bitch your really
are."
Brady immediately did as he was told. Heck stood up and looked
over at the man. His muscular ass was a bright red, providing a stark
contrast with the tanned skin both above and below it. Heck had decided to
fuck Brady doggie-style the first time. He had never fucked a dude before
and Heck was afraid that seeing the guy's dick while Heck fucked him might
be a turn-off. But, right now, at least, his own dick was raring to go.
Heck quickly stripped off his clothes.
Heck moved behind Brady and, with his hand on Brady's back, forced
the dude to bend over the back of the couch. The crimson ass was now
sticking straight out at the teenager. Heck spit into his hand and worked
the spit on to the head of his hard teenage cock. Then, kneeling between
the man's spread calves, Heck positioned his cock right on Brady's anal
rosette. "Here it comes, bitch," Heck warned as he drove his dick forward.
Heck managed to jam about a third of his hard prick into the hole
on that first thrust. He was amazed at how tightly the man's hole gripped
his boner. In front of him, Heck heard Brady whimper. Heck pulled about
an inch of his dick out of Brady's butt and then rammed back in, this time
penetrating all the way to the hilt. "Holy fuck," Heck moaned. "That
feels so fucking good."
Brady stifled a shriek as this back-passage was once again brutally
invaded though Heck was able to tell by the way the man's ass-cheeks
clenched up that Heck's entry was causing him a considerable amount of
pain. All Heck felt, however, was the tightness and warmth of an almost
virgin manpussy and the heat of well-burnished buns.
Heck luxuriated inside Brady's hole for a long minute, just
enjoying the incredible tightness of the man's ass. And then, ever so
slowly, loving the way Brady's anal sheath massaged his hard cock, Heck
began to fuck the man.
Brady's agonized groans slowly but perceptibly changed to moans of
pleasure as Brady once again felt his pussy stuffed with rampaging
man-meat. Brady's hole had felt so empty the last few days, as if some
critical piece that should be there was somehow missing. And Brady now
knew for a certainty what had been missing - another dude's hard dick
reaming out his fuck-hole, stretching out his back-passage, banging against
his prostrate and driving Brady wild. The cunt that Dr. Debt had cored out
between Brady's legs had finally been filled again and Brady realized he
didn't ever want it to be empty.
Heck looked down and watched as his long thick white pole slithered
between Brady's scarlet globes and disappeared inside the man's searing
furnace only to reappear moments later moistened and glistening with
Brady's anal juices. It looked so hot and it felt so good. Without even
thinking, Heck brought his hand smacking down on Brady's right butt-cheek.
Immediately, there was a squeal of pain from Brady followed by a
noticeable tightening of his pussy. "Oh, yeah," Heck moaned as he struck
the flaming cheek again. And again. And again.
Brady's clutching man-twat was driving Heck crazy. While he had
intended to take it slow fucking Brady this first time, savoring the feel
of his first experience at fucking another dude, Heck could feel himself
losing control. He started banging the man's butt with abandon, plunging
in to the hilt and withdrawing to the crown faster and faster till the
sound of flesh slapping flesh echoed through the room.
As Heck started plowing Brady with force, Brady began moaning, "Oh,
yeah. Oh, yeah. Fuck me Heck. Fuck the shit out of my pussy. Your big
cock feels so fucking good. Fuck my pussy. Fuck it hard!" Hearing Brady
urging him on, Heck lost it. He really threw it to Brady, violently
reaming out the man's hole, his hips battering a tattoo against Brady's
muscled buns, fucking him with an animalistic need to cum.
Heck leaned forward so his chest was pressed down hard on Brady's
muscled back, the sweat from both their bodies mingling into a single flow.
"Oh, yeah, baby. Do it baby," Heck moaned in Brady's ear. "Squeeze that
pussy. Make my big cock feel good. Oh, yeah, baby."
Heck snaked his hands around Brady's body and grabbed on to the man
muscled shoulders, pulling his entire torso backward in tandem with each
violent thrust up Brady's pussy. And then, in a final flurry of
piston-like strokes, Heck was there. Screaming like a banshee, he uploaded
a massive load of boy-sperm into Brady's spasming hole.
Spurt after spurt of white-hot cum erupted from the teenage dick,
scalding and coating the entire length of Brady's ravaged hole. Brady
could feel every burst of the kid's hot seed as it spewed forth inside of
him. The knowledge that the teenager was cumming inside his pussy together
with the incredible battering Heck's erupting cock was delivering to his
prostate drove Brady right to the edge of his own orgasm. Right to the
edge, but not over. Brady was consumed by the need to shoot, to finally
empty his balls. But he couldn't. He needed permission. He needed Heck's
permission and Heck hadn't given it.
"Oh, God," he moaned in anguished frustration. He wanted to shoot
so bad. He needed to shoot so bad. But he couldn't even ask Heck to give
him permission. That was part of the rule. Heck had to think of it
himself and the boy obviously hadn't, he'd been too involved in his own
orgasm, his own need to shoot. Brady wanted to scream but instead just
swallowed another strangled sob.
Inside of him, Brady could feel Heck's magnificent tool losing some
of its iron-like hardness and then felt Heck slowly removing his cock from
Brady's fucked-out pussy. He heard Heck collapse on the carpet in front of
the sofa and then felt a hand grab his waist and pull him on to the floor
next to Heck.
Heck reached over a hand and softly caressed Brady's face. "That
was fantastic, dude," Heck said in a voice filled with wonderment as if
he'd just seen the most beautiful rainbow imaginable. "That was the best
fucking sex I've ever had, Brady. The absolute best. Your
asshole....excuse me, your pussy is fucking unbelievable."
Heck let his hand drift down to Brady's chest and his fingers
softly traced the line under the man's well-developed pecs before coming to
rest between Brady's chest and navel. Heck's hand remained there for a
couple of minutes before resuming its languid downward-exploration of
Brady's body until it came into contact with Brady's rigid dick.
"I can't believe you're still hard, Brady," Heck mused. "You must
be one horny little bitch." And then, suddenly, Heck sat straight up and
stared at Brady.
"You didn't cum, Brady. You didn't cum," he said in a tone of
shocked discovery. And then his face took on a worried look. "Didn't you
enjoy it, Brady? Wasn't it good for you? Did I screw up?"
"No, Heck, no," Brady hastened to reassure the boy. "You were
wonderful. It felt so fucking good to feel you fucking me. It made me
incredibly hot. I actually wished it could go on forever."
"Then why didn't you cum?" Heck asked.
This was the question that Brady had been hoping to hear. "Because
you didn't give me permission to cum, Heck," he quietly explained.
"Oh, Jesus," Heck exclaimed, feeling his own face flush with
embarrassment. "I forgot. I just forgot. I'm so sorry, Brady. I wanted
you to enjoy this as much as me. I just forgot."
"I did enjoy it as much as you, Heck," Brady replied. "I did. I
loved the way you felt inside of me. It's just....it's just I really
needed to shoot my own load, too."
"I feel terrible, Brady," Heck admitted, locking his luminous blue
eyes onto Brady's. "I just feel terrible. Why didn't you say something,
though? Why didn't you just let me know that I was fucking up?"
"You didn't fuck up anything, Heck," Brady immediately answered.
"Except maybe my pussy and I certainly enjoyed that," he added with a
grin. "But I'm not allowed to ask for permission. That's part of the rule,
as Dr. Debt explained it to me. The decision to let me cum has to be
completely yours with no prodding from me."
"Well, if that's part of the rules that's one thing I can change
when I become your master. You'll still need my permission to cum, but
you'll never be prohibited from asking for it."
"Thank you, Heck," Brady replied. "Thank you." And then, as Brady
considered what Heck had said, another question formed in his mind.
"Does...does that mean that you've decided to become my master?" Brady
nervously asked.
Heck stared hard at Brady for a long moment. And then a large
smile spread across his face. "I guess it does, Brady. I guess it does.
I want to be your master." Then, his face returning to a more serious mien
he asked, "Do you want to be my bitch, Brady?"
Brady looked up at the fifteen-year-old boy, the boy who had just
given him such an incredible fucking. Jen had always claimed he was
commitment phobic but now he was about to make the biggest commitment
imaginable. "Oh, yes," he answered, "I want to be your bitch, Heck."
"So, how do we do it?" Heck asked. "How do we make it official?"
"I have no idea," Brady admitted. "I guess it's up to us to decide
how we do it."
Heck thought for a moment and then leaned over Brady. "Brady," he
asked, "do you accept me as your master?"
Brady looked up at young kid, took a deep breath, and answered,
"Yes, Heck. I accept you as my master." And then, in his own turn, Brady
asked, "Heck, do you take me as your bitch."
Heck, with his eyes boring into Brady answered, "Yes, Brady, I take
you as my bitch." And then, without saying another word, Heck lowered his
face to Brady's and kissed him. As the soft kiss on the lips slowly
metamorphosed into a deep struggle of competing tongues, Heck realized that
while he'd already fucked Brady, this was the first time he'd ever kissed
him - the first time he ever kissed any man. It felt strange at first, but
as that first kiss went on, Heck could tell it was something he would enjoy
getting used to.
When they finally broke, Brady looked up at Heck and smiled.
"Thank you, master."
"You're welcome, bitch," Heck responded.
Immediately, they began kissing again.
After only five minutes of passionate kissing, Brady could feel
Heck's hard dick rubbing against his own. 'The resiliency of youth,' Brady
thought to himself. He remembered his own stamina and horniness when he
was fifteen and it dawned on him that keeping Heck happy and content was
going to be a full-time job. He writhed against Heck's body. When Heck
finally broke the kiss and looked questioningly at Brady, Brady simply
smiled and said, "I'm ready if you are, master." The master was ready.
The area they'd been making out in was somewhat confined because of
the large coffee table so Heck maneuvered Brady over to the area in front
of the TV where they'd have more room. It was also where Dr. Debt had
fucked Brady a number of times that first night, and Heck's choice of that
spot was not unintentional.
Heck had already made up his mind that he wanted to blot out any
memory of the man who'd taken Brady's cherry. Part of Heck was in a sense
grateful that the man had preceded him since without the conditioning he
provided it was probable that Heck and Brady would never have hooked up.
But another part resented the fact that Dr. Debt had had the pleasure of
initiating Brady into man-on-man sex. Now that Heck was officially Brady's
master he felt that it should have been his role. He should have been the
one to pop Brady's cherry.
Heck had decided to fuck Brady in every room and on every piece of
furniture that Dr. Debt had fucked him. That way, when Brady looked
around his apartment, it would always be Heck who Brady would visualize
fucking him. So, in the near future, Heck expected to be fucking Brady in
the bathroom commode, on the dining room table, in front of the hallway
mirror, every place that Dr. Debt had banged his bitch. What he was really
looking forward to was fucking Brady against the glass doorway to the
balcony, at night, with the balcony light on, so that he could share that
experience with Brady, too. That session, however, would have to wait for
night so that Brady could experience the full humiliation of being fucked
again while total strangers had a ring-side seat.
Right now, Heck wanted to fuck Brady in front of the TV. And he
wanted him on his back, so that this time Heck could watch the man's face
while he used him like a bitch should be used. As Heck moved into place,
Brady spread his legs wide, bracing them with his hands, exposing his
freshly-fucked pussy. The hole that Heck now looked down at didn't close
as tightly as it had the first time Heck had penetrated it and there was a
dollop of Heck's boy-cream bubbling on the edges of Brady's stretched-out
rosette, so Heck dispensed with any lubricant. Instead, he positioned the
crown of his hard teenage cock right at the entrance of Brady's fuck-chute
and then looked at Brady's face so that he could see it react as Heck
entered him for a second time.
Slowly, unrelentingly, Heck forced his rigid pole through the
weakened barrier and then up into Brady's now slick back passageway. Heck
saw Brady give a brief grimace of pain as his sphincter was once again
forced to make room for a rampant boy-cock determined to plumb the depths
of Brady's pussy. But the grimace was short-lived and was soon replaced by
a smile of almost angelic pleasure. "Oh, yes, master," Brady moaned.
"That feels so good. You feel so good inside of me. So incredibly good."
Hearing and seeing Brady's reaction, Heck lost no time in getting
down to business. He started fucking Brady's sweet hole with a vengeance.
It was an incredible experience for Heck, too. The harder he fucked, the
more he pounded the man beneath him, the more Brady begged to be fucked
harder and deeper.
"Give it to me, master," Brady was begging. "Fuck the living shit
out of me. Rape my fucking pussy."
"Oh, you got it, bitch," Heck panted, driving his teenage prick
faster and faster, deeper and deeper, pounding the man with all the force
he could muster. Heck realized he was fucking Brady just like he'd always
wanted to fuck the girls he'd nailed in the past but been afraid to do.
Afraid he might hurt them, afraid they might think he was some type of
animal.
But with Brady, there was no need for a regulator, no need to worry
about whether he could take the pounding he was getting. He had to take
it. Brady was Heck's bitch. He had no choice. And what made it even
better, even hotter, was that the bitch was fucking loving it. Brady was
squirming underneath Heck in the throes of sexual heat, egging him on,
literally begging the teenager to bang him harder. If anything, this
second fuck was way hotter than the first one they'd just finished.
Heck was leaning over Brady, sweat again beginning to fly off his
torso as he rapidly battered the man's muscled ass-cheeks, when his eyes
fell upon Brady's nipples, or his 'tits' as Brady called them. Earlier,
Heck had thought them a little too large for his taste and he intended to
tell Brady to go easy on them and not keep them so swollen and pumped up.
But right now, they looked good on his sweaty torso as Brady continued to
thrust up his butt to meet every one of Heck's down-strokes. They looked
so inviting.
Heck moved his hands to Brady's well-developed pecs, felt the
sinuous muscles underneath the smooth, hairless skin, and then stretched
his fingers out towards the flaring nipples. 'They do look hot,' Heck
thought, as he fingered the man's nubs. And then, more out of curiosity
than anything else, he squeezed down hard on both of them.
The effect was electric. Brady emitted a high pitched squeal and
thrashed around on the carpet while his entire anal channel spasmodically
clamped down on Heck's embedded boner. "Oh, Fuck," Heck moaned, as he felt
Brady's hot anal sleeve compressing up and down his bloated shaft. "That
feels so fucking unbelievable." Without even thinking, he squeezed Brady's
tits again and got the same reaction.
Now, Heck couldn't let go of Brady's tits. He squeezed them over
and over again as he resumed his violent pummeling of Brady's spasming
boy-pussy. Brady's shrieks slowly merged into one long high-pitched
squeal, but a quick look at his crotch made it clear to Heck that it wasn't
just pain that was eliciting Brady's reaction. Brady's dick was arching
straight up into the air, oozing pre-cum like a leaky faucet. Heck looked
up into Brady's eyes which appeared glazed with a mixture of ecstasy and
pain.
"Brady," he said softly, but the man seemed not to hear him, lost
someplace in his sexual euphoria. "Brady," he repeated more insistently.
Slowly Brady's eyes came back into focus and fixed on Heck's face.
"Yes, master," Brady finally answered.
"Brady, you can cum when you want," Heck told him.
"Oh, thank you, master. Thank you," Brady replied gratefully. He
was quiet for a few seconds as he absorbed a flurry of violent thrusts up
his hole. "Oh, God. You feel so good inside of me," he panted, "you could
fuck me forever."
"Don't you worry, bitch," Heck replied. "I'll be fucking your
pussy a lot from now on. But if you want to cum, you'd better be quick
about it because I'm about to pop out another load of baby-makers up your
hole."
"Oh, yes, master," Brady replied, his voice thick with lust.
"Cream my fucking hole. Cream my pussy." Brady began grinding his ass
against Heck's groin, trying to engulf as much of the boy's rampant
fuck-stick as he could. "I'm real close, master," he moaned. "Real
close."
"So am I bitch," Heck moaned. "So am I. Shoot that fucking load.
I want to see you blow that fucking load while I'm cumming up your pussy."
Their eyes locked into each other as their breathing took on the
rapid pattern that usually presages sexual release. Heck again started
pulling his hard teen-cock out of Brady's pussy so that only the crown
remained inside before plunging back into the root, seemingly forcing its
way deeper and deeper into Brady on every thrust. In mere seconds, he
began moaning, "I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum."
Hearing this, Brady grabbed his own cock and gave it two hard
strokes and then screamed at the top of lungs, "Oh my God. I'm cumming.
I'm cumming." A week's worth of cum began to explode from his cock.
Heck looked down just in time to see the first huge spurt of cum
shoot out of Brady's slit like a rocket, going over Brady's head and
splattering on the carpet behind him. Another spurt followed landing in
Brady's hair and a third which splattered all over his face. And then Heck
lost track as his own super-aroused tool erupted inside Brady. "Oh, fuck,
bitch," Heck snarled as he pummeled Brady's man-twat. "Take it. Take my
fucking load."
And then, as his own orgasm took hold, as his balls churned with
boy-seed fighting its way to the surface, Heck heard a piercing scream,
"What the fuck is going on?"
Brady heard the same scream and his heart almost stopped, right
there. 'Oh, fuck no,' Brady thought, even as his own cock continued to
pour out its juice. 'No, God. No."
Brady turned his head and there she was. Jen was standing there,
looking at the pair of them as they shot their massive loads, a mixture of
horror and fury contorting her face.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" she screamed, her eyes fixed on
Brady, taking in the cum in his hair and on his face and now coating his
entire chest. The cum fresh from his balls. The same balls that hadn't
been able to produce a single pearl of cream inside her vagina for the
whole last week.
"Is this why you haven't been able to keep it up, Brady?" she
asked, her voice dripping with venom. "Because you've been too worn out
from having your boyfriend fuck your ass?" At this point in her angry
screed she glanced at Heck who had turned to see what the hell was going
on. For the first time, Jen took a really good look at the boy.
"Jesus Christ," she exclaimed, looking back to Brady. "Is he even
legal?"
"I'm eighteen," Heck quickly answered, covering for Brady.
"Eighteen? Eighteen?" She made the number sound like something
obscene. "Oh, that's just great. What have you been doing Brady? Hanging
out around high schools, looking for some young kid - some young BOY - to
fuck you? You disgust me, Brady."
"Jen," Brady began, still lying on the floor with his legs spread
wide around Heck's waist, Heck's hard meat visibly crammed into Brady's
stretched-out boyhole, unable to move so long as Heck continued to rest his
weight on him, "it's not..."
"Don't even start with me, Brady," she immediately cut him off.
"I've had enough of your bullshit. Enough of your bullshit to last me the
rest of my life. We're through, you and me. I've had it. I'm going to go
pack a bag and stay with Emily tonight. You can stay here and let your
little boyfriend fuck you till the sun comes up for all I care." And with
that, she stormed off to the bedroom.
Five minutes later she was back, a red suitcase firmly in hand.
Her fury was gone; now it was all ice and disdain. Brady and Heck had
uncoupled and, at Heck's direction, they were both sitting on the couch.
Brady stood up, but Jen forestalled him with a wave of her hand.
"Don't bother," she said. And then she calmly looked at Brady and
let him have it, with both barrels. "You know Brady, it's bad enough that
I catch you cheating on me. We were supposed to be in a monogamous
relationship. And it's even worse that I catch you cheating with a guy -
excuse me - a boy, an eighteen-year-old boy. But what really burns me,
what really hurts, is that after three years of us living together, you
didn't have the balls or the consideration to tell me that you're gay.
Instead, you let me believe that maybe somehow it was my fault that you
could no longer function as a man - as a real man. Well," she laughed
grimly, "we all know that's not true. The reason you couldn't function as
a real man is clear, Brady. It's because you're not a real man - and being
gay has nothing to do with it."
"As far as you're concerned," she added, turning to Heck, "I don't
know what you see in him" - pointing at Brady - "but you're a good-looking
young kid. You could do a lot better. Get yourself a real man."
She took a few steps towards the door and then stopped. "I'll be
back on Monday to pick up the rest of my things. I'd appreciate it, Brady,
if you'd have the decency not to be around. I don't ever want to see you
again." Without another word, she left the apartment.
As she left, Brady crumpled to the floor, clearly distraught. It
felt as if three years and the closest relationship he had ever had with
another human being had been brutally ripped from his life. He felt the
pain of loss but even more keenly he felt an overwhelming sense of guilt
for what had happened.
He may not have misled Jen about being gay. After all, it was only
now, after his session with Heck, that Brady was himself finally beginning
to understand that he might be gay. But he hadn't been honest with her,
either.
He hadn't told her what he'd done with Dr. Debt or, more
importantly, what Dr. Debt had done to him, so there'd been no possible way
for Brady to explain what had been happening to him over the past week.
Instead, he'd invented one lie after another to explain what was going on
until his entire relationship with Jen was only being maintained by his
lies. It was bound to come tumbling down.
And it was his failure to be honest that had directly led to the
horrible scene in their apartment - his apartment now. Brady could see
now, in the clarity of hindsight, that his relationship with Jen could
never have survived being Heck's bitch. But if he hadn't lied, hadn't
obscured the truth, it might have been possible to end his relationship
with Jen on a classy note, one that would have left her pride and his honor
intact. But Brady's lies had precluded that type of resolution for both of
them.
All these thoughts and second-guessings roiled around in Brady's
mind as the tears just seeped out in a seemingly endless stream. But
everything in life is finite and eventually Brady's tears just dried up.
Brady lay huddled on the floor for a few more minutes and then looked up at
Heck who had waited patiently on the sofa, occasionally rubbing Brady's
back, but saying nothing.
"You know, Heck," Brady sighed. "She's right. You could do so
much better than me. So much better."
"Brady," Heck began, not sure what he should say. "I'm sorry about
what happened. I really am. And I can tell you feel real bad about it.
But, as my mom says, what's done is done. Maybe you could have done stuff
differently. Maybe you did screw up. But I already know you well enough
to know that regardless of what you did, you never meant to hurt your
girlfriend. That shit just happened. That Dr. Debt guy really fucked you
up. If anyone's to blame, it's him."
There was a slight pause. And then Heck went on. "And there's one
other thing I know your girlfriend is wrong about. I know I couldn't do
better than you. You're the best cocksucker I've ever met and that last
fuck was hotter than any I've ever had with one of my girlfriends. I'm
glad you're now my bitch, Brady. I really am."
Brady just sat there for a moment, thinking about what Heck was
saying. From straight boyfriend to male bitch, that pretty accurately
described Brady's trajectory over the past ten days. 'Well,' Brady
thought, 'at least I'm good as a bitch; I obviously wasn't so hot as a
boyfriend.' Looking up at Heck, Brady smiled ruefully, "I'm glad I'm your
bitch, too, Heck."
Heck returned Brady's gaze. Brady was beginning to recover from
the nasty scene that had just played out but Heck thought what Brady needed
right now was something to take his mind off his troubles, and Heck thought
he knew just the thing to do it. Affecting a leer, Heck suggested, "What
say we get back to business. My cock could use a little lovin' right now."
Brady looked down at Heck's lap to see his teenage cock was once
again fully engorged. 'Jesus,' Brady thought, 'this kid is horny all the
time.' "I don't know, Heck," Brady responded, "I'm not really in the
mood."
Heck's eyes narrowed. "I don't remember asking you if you were in
the mood, bitch. What I said was that my cock needs some lovin' so you
just get your bitch mouth working on it right now or I'll tan your ass for
you again."
"Yes, master," Brady immediately replied, yanked back to his
present reality. "I'm sorry, master." He bent over and took Heck's cock
into his mouth, aware that it was now coated with a mixture of dried cum
and Brady's own anal juices. He had tasted this mixture before during his
session with Dr. Debt and had found it repulsive but this time Heck's sweet
cum had even moderated the taste of Brady's anal slime and Brady avidly
slurped the coating off Heck's cock. Once the teenager's cock was clean,
Brady moved on to blowing the boy and very soon he was lost in the pleasure
of sucking on Heck's hot teen-boy prick.
Heck kept Brady busy for the rest of Saturday. He hadn't been
planning on spending the night but he thought it might be good for Brady if
he did. So he called his mom and told her he'd be staying at Randy's house
for the night. Randy was his best bud and he'd stayed over at his house a
number of times in the past. Just to be on the safe side, he also called
Randy. He told Randy that he had a chance to nail some 'hot tail' and he
needed Randy to cover for him. Randy had laughed and quickly agreed. All
he asked was that when Heck was done with the bitch, that he'd introduce
her to the rest of the crew. Heck readily agreed.
Heck felt bad about lying to his mom, not that it had been the
first time he'd done just that. But at least he hadn't lied to his 'bro'
Randy. He was nailing some hot tail - Brady had a fucking beautiful butt.
And, once he'd properly broke Brady in, he fully intended to share his
bitch with the guys. Well, at least Brady's mouth. He thought he might
keep Brady's pussy for himself - at least for now.
They were lying in the bed later that night, spoon-style, with
Heck's boy-cock buried deep up Brady's hole where it had just deposited yet
another big load of stud-boy seed, when Heck brought up something that had
been nagging at him a good part of the day.
"Brady," he began.
"Yes, master," the man replied.
"I want to talk to you about that," Heck answered.
"About what, master," Brady asked, not understanding.
"About calling me 'master' all the time, Brady," Heck responded
with some heat. Brady turned to look at him with obvious apprehension.
"Look, Brady, I am your master and I fully intend to remain your
master. That's not what I'm talking about. I like being your master and I
like having you as my bitch. It's just that what I don't like is you
constantly calling me 'master.' It kinda grates on me - makes me feel like
I'm some old fuck or something. I'd rather you call me just 'Heck' or even
'sir,' though I didn't like that much either the first time you used it."
Brady looked a little crestfallen but he immediately replied,
"Whatever you say, ma...sir, I'll do. But just so you'll know, sir, I like
calling you 'master.' It kind of grounds my life - I am your bitch now and
you are my master. But I'll do whatever you want, ...sir."
Heck looked at Brady, surprised by his response, surprised that a
twenty-five-year-old man would want to call a fifteen-year-old kid his
'master.' Whatever that Dr. Debt had done, it had really been effective.
It was clear that Brady now saw himself as Heck's bitch and just knowing
that gave Heck a real tingly sensation in his groin.
"Look, Brady," Heck began again, "I'm willing to make a deal with
you. Whenever I first arrive at the apartment you can greet me as
'master,' and whenever there's something serious you want to talk to me
about you can use 'master,' too. But other than that, when I ask you a
question I don't want to keep hearing 'master' at the end of every answer.
Just use 'sir' or 'Heck.' Okay?"
"Yes, sir," Brady quickly responded, happy with the compromise.
"That's fine, sir."
"And one other thing, Brady," Heck cautioned. "When we're with
other people outside of the apartment, I want you to call me 'Heck,' unless
I tell you differently. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir. I understand, sir."
"Good," Heck replied. The tingly sensation had progressed to a
full-blown hard-on. "Now roll over on your back, bitch," he directed with
a smirk. "Why don't you show me again how much you like being your
master's bitch."
"Yes, sir!" Brady responded with a broad smile as he maneuvered
himself back into position, ignoring the soreness of his well-used pussy,
again impressed by the insatiable nature of Heck's lust. Brady had always
thought that he had been a horny stud-puppy when he was a teenager, but his
fifteen-year-old master was showing him just what horniness really was. It
was obvious that a lack of sex was not going to be a problem in this
relationship.
When Brady woke the next morning around 8:00 a.m., he went through
a moment of disorientation. After all, it had been over a week since he'd
awakened in a bed. But the sensation of Heck's hard cock still buried up
his pussy quickly brought Brady back to the present. He squeezed down on
the boy's still-tumescent bone and was rewarded by a groan from Heck. Heck
opened his eyes just a slit and looked at Brady. "Still rarin' to go, huh,
bitch?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," Brady responded, surprised himself that after all the
action his pussy had seen the night before, it still wanted some more.
"Well, you'll have to wait, bitch. I've got to get some shut-eye.
Wake me in a couple of hours and I'll give your pussy another banging - you
horny bastard."
"Yes, sir," Brady answered, only a little disappointed. He
snuggled his body backwards until it was just touching Heck's, who
responded by throwing an arm around Brady and hugging him tightly to him.
Slowly, feeling protected and contented, Brady drifted back off to sleep.
It was close to noon when they finally got out of bed. They'd both
been awake by 11:00 a.m., but by that time Heck was 'rarin' to go,' too, so
it wasn't until after he'd dropped two more big loads up Brady's leaking
pussy that they made it out of bed and headed to the shower.
While Heck had showered with other dudes before, he'd never been in
a situation where the other dude had soaped his back and crotch and then
ate out his hole for him. Not surprisingly, the shower ended with Brady
getting his hole reamed out yet again.
They took a break in order to eat, which was something they had
neglected to do the previous night. After preparing bacon, eggs, and toast
and placing a plate before Heck, who was sitting at the dining room table,
Brady was uncertain what he should do with the plate he'd prepared for
himself. Heck noticed Brady's hesitation and gestured that he should put
it down in front of the chair next to him. Brady did as directed but then
just stood there awkwardly.
Heck had already begun eating and he was chewing on some toast when
he noticed Brady was still standing. And then it hit him - his bitch
couldn't sit on furniture without Heck's permission. 'Goddammit,' he
thought, 'if it isn't one thing, it's another.' In between bites, he
ordered Brady to sit down and eat his breakfast.
Heck then turned his attention back to his meal. He hadn't
realized how ravenous he was until he'd started eating. He polished it off
in no time and then sent Brady back to the kitchen to prepare another
plate. He spent more time finishing off his second serving, which allowed
him to actually enjoy the taste of the breakfast Brady had prepared. When
he was finished, Heck pushed back his chair and looked over at Brady who
was still eating.
Brady felt Heck's eyes on him. He looked over and saw that Heck
had finished eating. Brady immediately began scarfing down his own
breakfast, not wanting to have Heck wait on him. Heck saw what he was
doing and laughed out loud. "Take your time, boy," he said. "Take your
time. I'm in no hurry."
"Yes, sir," Brady mumbled with food in his mouth, scarcely slowing
down. Regardless of what Heck said, Brady didn't want to keep his master
waiting.
A minute later, Brady's plate was as clean as Heck's. Brady moved
to push his chair back so he could clean the table but Heck tersely
ordered, "Just sit there for a minute, boy."
Heck sat there looking over the twenty-five-year-old man who was
now his bitch. Heck realized that he had started referring to Brady as a
'boy,' and looking at him now, it seemed appropriate. With his submissive
demeanor, his total nudity, the complete lack of body hair, Brady did seem
like a boy. And he was a boy - he was Heck's boy. Which meant that Heck
was now the man. And as the man, it was up to Heck to set the rules.
"On your knees, bitch," he suddenly ordered.
Brady immediately dropped to the floor, facing him.
"I want you to listen closely to me now, bitch, because I'm talking
to you as your master."
Brady noticeably stiffened, his posture becoming rigidly erect. He
also took his hands and placed them behind his head, spreading his elbows
wide apart. "Yes, master," Brady responded, his eyes locked on to
Heck. "I'm listening."
Heck had no idea why Brady had placed his hands behind his head.
It certainly wasn't something Heck had ordered. But as he looked at Brady
kneeling before him, he realized that he liked it. The position Brady had
assumed simultaneously displayed his impressive musculature and at the same
time showed Brady's total subservience to Heck. Heck could feel his
teenage cock stirring again. But this time, it would have to wait. There
was something else Heck wanted to take care of.
"Okay, Brady," he started. "I think it's time we review the rules
that now guide your life. Begin."
Switching into his conditioned mode, Brady began reciting,
"Mr. Bitch-Maker's Nine Rules for Male Bitches."
"No," Heck stopped him. "Make that 'Master Heck's Nine Rules for
His Male Bitch.'" Now begin again.
"Yes, master," Brady replied. "Master Heck's Nine Rules for His
Male Bitch. Rule No. 1. A bitch always does what his master orders him
to do." Brady was about to continue when Heck interrupted him again.
"Rule No. 1 is fine, Brady," he said, "but I want you to understand
something. If I order you to do something that you think might create
problems for either of us, I expect you to bring this to my attention.
You're a lot older than I am and I think you might be able to help me make
better decisions. The final decision, though, will always be mine. Do you
understand?"
"Yes, master," Brady dutifully replied.
"Continue," Heck ordered.
Brady began again. "Master Heck's..."
"No," Heck again interrupted. "We don't have all day. Just start
from where you left off."
"Yes, master," Brady agreed. "Rule No. 2. A bitch's body is
always hairless and smooth." Brady waited a moment to give Heck a chance
to interrupt but when he didn't Brady moved on. "Rule No. 3. A bitch is
always naked at home and never attempts to cover himself." Brady paused
again, but once again Heck had no comments. This time, however, Brady
spoke up.
"Master," he began. "I was wondering if the rule applied when my
mother, my sister, and my older brother are visiting."
Heck laughed. "That would be embarrassing, having your mother and
your sister seeing you all naked and hairless, wouldn't it, bitch?" He
thought for a moment, toying with the idea of forcing Brady to bare all
when his mother was there. It would be hot to force his boy to do that,
but he decided to leave Brady with a few shreds of self-respect. "When
either your mother or your sister is present, Brady, you may wear running
shorts. Nothing else, but you may wear running shorts. When it's just
your older brother, though, you'll give him the whole show. Let him see
what a little bitch his younger brother has become. Do you understand?"
"Yes, master. Thank you, master."
"Continue."
"Rule No. 4. A bitch never sits on furniture at home and always
sleeps on the floor." There was another slight pause, but hearing no
comments, Brady moved on. "Rule No. 5. A bitch never wears underwear when
he goes out and never hides an erection."
"Okay, stop right there," Heck said. "I'm going to change that
rule so that you will wear underwear while you're at work and you'll wear a
jock while you're working out at the gym. But the modification applies
only at work and while working out. When you get dressed for work in the
morning you are to put a pair of briefs - briefs, Brady, not boxers - in
your pocket. When you arrive at work you will go in the bathroom and put
the briefs on. When your workday is finished, you'll return to the
bathroom and remove the briefs. Similarly, you will put the jock on right
before you begin your workout and you will remove it once your workout is
completed. But, other than these two exceptions, no underwear - and no
hiding an erection. Do you understand, bitch?
"Yes, master. Thank you master."
"Then continue."
"Rule No. 6. A bitch keeps his body in shape and his tits plumped
up."
"Okay, Brady," Heck stopped him. "I want to modify that rule. 'A
bitch keeps his body completely tanned and in shape and his tits plumped
up.' You look good tanned but I don't like those tan lines on your body.
From now on, whenever you're home alone and it's a sunny day I expect you
to get at least two hours in the sun on your balcony. Your balcony is part
of your apartment so the nudity and no covering up rules apply. Do you
understand?"
"Yes, master," Brady agreed. "But master, my neighbors..."
Heck cut him off. "Your neighbors have already been exposed to
your activities and I'm sure they'll see more in the upcoming weeks. They
already know what you are, bitch. There's no need to worry about what they
think."
"Yes, master," Brady quietly agreed. This was a turn of events
Brady hadn't planned on and he certainly wasn't looking forward to
displaying his naked, hairless body for his neighbors' sick amusement.
But, if that's what his master wanted, that was what he had to do. He
forced himself to repeat the revised version of Rule No. 6 and then was
about to move on when Heck interrupted him again.
"One more thing, bitch," Heck began. "About your tits. They're a
little bit large for my taste but I do appreciate how sensitive they've
become. So for now, you can keep your tits their present size - but no
larger."
"Yes, master. I'll remember that," Brady answered. Then, seeing
that Heck had finished, Brady moved on.
"Rule No. 7. A bitch's body is public property and is always
available for use by others." Brady scarcely had that rule out of his
mouth before Heck was talking.
"That's one rule I'm definitely changing," Heck announced.
"Henceforth, Rule No. 7 is 'A bitch's body is his master's property and,
while others may look at it and admire it, only his master has the right to
use it in any way.' I don't want anyone touching or playing around with
your body, bitch, unless I tell you it's okay. Do you understand?"
"Yes, master," Brady agreed. "My body is your personal property
now and it's my responsibility to make sure that nobody uses your property
without your permission. I understand, master."
"Fine," Heck replied. "So if some guy comes up to you in the
showers, or anywhere else for that matter, and tries to put the make on
you, you just politely tell them that your master doesn't allow it. They
can look all they want, but no touching. Now repeat the new rule."
"Rule No. 7. A bitch's body is his master's property and, while
others may look at it and admire it, only his master has the right to use
it in any way." Brady paused and then added, "Thank you, master, for Rule
No. 7." Brady realized that this revised rule would make his life much
easier at the gym.
"Go on, bitch," Heck ordered.
"Rule No. 8. A bitch maintains an erection in the presence of a
superior but never cums without permission."
"Okay, boy," Heck interjected. "I'm going to change 'a superior'
to 'his master' but I'm going to keep the rest of the wording. But as I
told you earlier, when I'm fucking your pussy, you can ask for permission
to cum. I won't always grant it, but you can ask."
"Thank you, master," Brady replied. He then repeated the revised
rule and moved on to Rule No. 9. 'A bitch never, ever tops.'
"No need any more to modify that rule, I guess," Heck noted. He
looked at Brady kneeling so docilely in front of him, so calmly accepting
his new role in life - his role as Heck's bitch. "Okay, Brady," he said,
"Repeat the rules for me."
Showing absolutely no surprise and not the slightest hesitation,
Brady proceeded to go through all nine rules, as Heck had revised them,
without a single mistake. But, listening to Brady go through them, Heck
realized he wanted to make one more revision.
"Brady," he said, "I'm going to make one more change. In Rule 4,
you are to sleep on the floor if I'm not present, but if I'm in bed with
you, I want you to stay in bed while we're sleeping unless I tell you
otherwise. I don't want to have to go looking for you on the floor when I
get the urge to bang your pussy again."
Hearing this, Brady smiled. "Well, master, you could revise the
rule to read 'a bitch never sits on furniture at home and, when alone,
always sleeps on the floor.'"
Heck thought about this for a minute. "I don't know, bitch. It
seems to permit you to sleep on the bed when you're sleeping with anyone
else."
"Master," Brady reassured him. "Now that Jen is leaving, you're
the only one I'll ever be sleeping with. Well, you or someone you've told
me to sleep with. And it might be awkward for one of your friends to have
to go looking for me at night when he has the urge to use me again."
Now, it was Heck's turn to smile. "You're right, bitch. You're
right. Consider Rule No. 4 revised the way you suggested."
"Yes, master. Do you want me to repeat the rules, master." Brady
asked.
"No, that's okay," Heck assured his bitch. "I'm confident you have
them down. Just one last thing though. These are the general rules that
now control your life, bitch. But these are my rules and I have the right
to alter or change them as I see fit. You do understand that, don't you
bitch?"
"Absolutely, master," Brady agreed.
"Fine," Heck replied. He leaned back in his chair. "Stand up,
Brady," he directed.
Brady got to his feet. "The formalities are now over, Brady," he
told his bitch, "and I don't want to hear another 'master' for the rest of
the afternoon. Okay?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do you have any cigarettes around?" Heck inquired.
"Sorry, sir," Brady replied. "I don't smoke and neither does Jen."
Heck frowned slightly. "Well, I do and I sure could use one right
now. In the future, make sure you have cigarettes in the apartment."
"Yes, sir," Brady answered, hoping he was hiding his distaste for
the smell of cigarette smoke. "I could go out and get you a pack of
cigarettes right now if you want."
Heck shook his head. "No, bitch," he replied. "I've got to be
heading home in a couple of hours and I've got better ways to spend my time
till then - like fucking your pussy again. Just make sure you have a
carton in here by Tuesday."
"Yes, sir," Brady agreed. "Any specific brand."
"Yeah. I prefer L&M."
Brady wasn't sure he'd ever even heard of that brand before but he
made a mental note to pick up a carton Monday on his way home from work.
"Go find my shorts, Brady," Heck ordered.
It took a moment for Brady to locate them behind the couch where
they'd ended up. "Now go get some sun-tan lotion," he ordered, when Brady
handed him the shorts. "We're going to go get some rays and you don't want
to burn any sensitive parts now, do you?"
"No, sir," Brady mumbled, feeling himself beginning to blush. It
was a sunny day and all he could hope for was that it wasn't too crowded on
the nearby balconies. But, judging from the noise he heard as Heck opened
the sliding door, there was going to be a big audience for Brady's latest
bout with public humiliation.
By the time Heck left later that afternoon, he'd managed to pump
three more loads up Brady's pussy, including one load he deposited while
Brady was stretched out on the balcony. There were a few wolf-whistles
when the two of them finally retreated back inside the apartment so Brady
had to assume that their coupling had not gone completely unnoticed.
Just before he left, Brady asked Heck when he'd see him again.
Heck said his mom always liked it if he spent Sunday evenings with her at
home. He also informed Brady that he had a date with 'a hot chick' on
Monday. But he told Brady he'd be seeing him on Tuesday night and to keep
Thursday and Friday nights open as well. And he ordered Brady to get the
apartment cleaned up by then. 'It's a fucking mess,' Heck complained,
ignoring the fact that his unrelenting assault on Brady's pussy was the
reason the apartment was so trashed.
Heck had no sooner closed the door than Brady found himself
cleaning the apartment. The place really seemed empty without his master
there and cleaning helped Brady pass the time. By the time Monday morning
rolled around, the place was sparkling.
When Brady got home from work that Monday, he saw that Jen had
obviously been there. She'd taken all of her clothes and a number of
smaller items she had purchased. She'd also removed every picture of the
two of them. Brady was surprised that she'd wanted those. Later that
evening, though, as he was cleaning up after dinner, he realized that she
had taken the pictures. They were all there, in his kitchen garbage can;
every one cut into small pieces. Brady felt bad about that.
Tuesday, however, found Brady in a much better mood. Heck was
coming by at 6:00 p.m. and Brady could hardly wait. He actually left work
early and by 5:30 p.m., he was showered, shaved, and douched and nervously
pacing his apartment, just waiting for Heck to knock on the door. For
once, though, the event lived up to the anticipation and Brady found his
pussy stuffed with Heck's hard teen-boy cock almost from the moment the boy
arrived right up until he left four hours later. That night, as he lay on
the floor at the foot of his bed, Brady relived the evening's adventures
over and over again. He woke up incredibly horny but with a big smile on
his face.
Thursday was just as good and Friday Heck spent the night again.
By the time Heck left late Saturday afternoon, he had finally succeeded in
fucking Brady everywhere in the apartment that Dr. Debt had nailed him,
fucking him against the balcony door late Friday night, to an appreciative
round of applause from a number of Brady's neighbors, and then fucking
Brady with his ass soaking in the commode before showering on Saturday
morning. It was not unlike the way a big cat marks off his territory
although Heck did it with spunk rather than piss. With that mission
completed, Heck felt that Brady was now, truly, his bitch.
Heck was going out with the girl from school again on Saturday
night, so Brady faced another long period alone. He had already fallen
asleep on the bedroom floor when he heard a pounding on the door, which he
groggily hurried to answer. Not having any idea who was there, he
cautiously cracked the door a bit only to hear Heck's voice ordering him to
"Open the door, bitch."
"Master," Brady exclaimed, opening the door wide.
"Cut that crap, bitch," Heck snarled, pushing Brady backwards and
slamming the door behind himself. Brady could smell the liquor on the
teenager.
"That fucking cunt," Heck swore. "That goddamn fucking cunt. She
gets me all hot and horny and then she doesn't want to put out. She'll
give me a hand-job, she says. A fucking hand-job. I can give myself a
fucking hand-job if that's what I want. What I want to do is fuck her
pussy and have her swallow my rod. 'Oh, I don't do things like that. I'm
not that type of girl.' Fuck that shit. Fucking prick-tease. I don't
need that shit. Not when I got me a fucking bitch who'll do anything I
want. Ain't that right, bitch? Ain't that right?"
"Yes, sir," Brady responded, not sure what he should do.
"Well, what the fuck are you waiting for, bitch? On your knees.
Now, you fucking cocksucker. Get your faggot mouth working on my hard
dick. What do you need, a fucking invitation? Suck my cock, bitch."
"Yes, sir," Brady said, immediately dropping to his knees and
raising his hands to open Heck's belt.
Above him, Heck wobbled a little. Brady got Heck's skinny jeans
off his hips and lowered his boxers. The boy's cock sprang out, hard as a
rail. Bending forward, Brady slowly eased the whole thing into his mouth
and down his throat.
"Oh, yeah, bitch," Heck exclaimed. "That's what I mean. Suck that
dick, you fucking faggot."
Brady really went to work on Heck's cock and was soon rewarded with
a huge infusion of hot boy-sperm down his throat. "Oh, yeah, bitch," Heck
moaned as his outflow diminished to random spurts. "Nobody sucks cock like
a faggot."
Brady kept Heck's cock in his mouth, gently sucking on it, until he
suddenly felt Heck yanking up on his hair. "On your feet, bitch. That was
good for starters, but now I want to fuck your pussy. So get your faggot
boy-twat into the bedroom."
Without a word, Brady got to his feet and led the way to the
bedroom. It took a few minutes to extricate Heck from his skinny jeans,
even with Brady helping, but the moment he got them off, Heck roughly
pushed Brady on to the bed and rolled him onto his stomach. And then Heck
started banging the living shit out of him.
Brady lost count of how many times Heck fucked him that night. It
had to be close to half a dozen. One after the other. Heck would cum in a
frenzy of hard slaps and a torrent of verbal abuse and then collapse on top
of Brady's back only to start plugging away again five or ten minutes
later. Finally, about 4:00 a.m., he just passed out, his cock still wedged
deeply up Brady's well-worn fuckhole.
Brady lay underneath Heck, his own hard and unmilked cock crushed
beneath his shaven stomach. It had been a rough night, though there were
times when Heck was just pounding away at him non-stop that Brady had
actually enjoyed it. But, by and large, it hadn't been a particularly
pleasant evening.
Heck obviously was not a great drunk. 'But,' Brady told himself,
'that's just the way it goes.' He had to take the bad with the good. He
didn't have any choice. He was Heck's bitch now and if Heck wanted to go
out and get drunk and them come back and take it out on Brady, then Brady
would just have to suck it up, literally as well as figuratively..
It wasn't comfortable with Heck's body-weight resting completely on
him but, eventually, Brady managed to drift off to sleep.
Around ten in the morning, Brady felt a rustling next to him in the
bed. And then he was aware that Heck's weight was no longer pressing down
on him. He looked to his side to see Heck looking at him. He looked
upset.
"Good morning, sir," Brady began.
Heck put a finger on Brady's lips. "Don't say anything, baby," he
said. And then he started to talk.
"I am so sorry about last night. I obviously have trouble holding
my booze but that shouldn't become your problem. I was angry at Maria and
I took it out on you - because I could. And that was wrong. What was even
worse was that you couldn't even defend yourself. And I knew that. You
just had to lay there and take whatever I did to you. And that worries me.
"I'm only a kid, Brady. I'm only fifteen years old. I don't know
shit about being an adult, much less some other dude's 'master.' And I'm
afraid that if I go out and get drunk again - or fucked up on some drug - I
might really hurt you or do something else that could really screw up your
life or even my own. And I don't want to do that."
"It's okay, Heck," Brady tried to soothe, but Heck cut him off.
"It's not okay, Brady. Lying here, watching you sleep, it finally
hit me that being your master doesn't just mean that I get to fuck you and
have you blow me when I want. It also means that I've taken on a
responsibility for you as well. And I'm not even good at taking
responsibility for myself much less than for someone else - someone I'm
beginning to care about. And I am....beginning to care about you, Brady,
though you wouldn't know it from the way I treated you last night.
"I need your help, Brady. I need you to help me become
responsible, both for myself as well as for you. You're an adult, man.
You're not a kid like me. You can tell me when I'm screwing up or doing
something stupid. And you can stop me. I'm in good shape, Brady, but
you're stronger than me. We both know that. And that's what I want you to
do. If I come in here drunk or all screwed up and start doing stuff that
you know I shouldn't do, I want you to stop me, Brady. Physically, if you
have to."
"Jesus, Heck," Brady answered. "I don't know about that."
For the first time that morning, Heck smiled. "Well, I do. And
that's one of the good things about being the master. I get to make the
decisions. So, Brady, I'm ordering you, as your master, that if you ever
think that I'm about to do something that will physically injure you or
result in real problems for either of us, you are to stop me, using force
if you have to. Do you understand?"
"Yes, master," Brady replied. "I understand."
"Good," Heck answered, looking as if some large burden had been
lifted from him. "And now, get over here, bitch. I wanna fuck you one
more time and then I've got to get home. My mom's gonna throw a shit-fit
when she finds out I was out all night."
Brady scooted over to Heck who surprised him by leaning forward and
kissing him deeply. As Heck did so, his hand grabbed Brady's bloated dick.
"Shit, bitch," Heck laughed, "you're sure as hell primed."
"Well," Brady hesitantly began to explain, but Heck had figured it
out.
"I didn't let you cum last night, did I?"
"No, sir," Brady admitted.
"You see, Brady," Heck sighed. "I really am a shitty master."
"Oh no, sir," Brady disagreed. "You're a good master. You really
are. And I think you're going to become a great master. And I'm really
glad that I'm your bitch, sir. I mean that."
"Well, the least I can do is help you take care of this," Heck
answered, squeezing Brady's bone and causing him to moan with pleasure.
"What do you want me to do."
"I want you to fuck me, sir," Brady immediately answered. "On my
back, so I can watch you pound the shit out of my bitch pussy, sir."
"I think that can be arranged, bitch," Heck chuckled, as he picked
up Brady's legs and positioned them on his shoulders. He positioned his
hard teen-cock at the edge of Brady's rosette and then, in one fluid
movement, buried his boner all the way inside.
"Oh, God, it feels so good to feel you inside of me, sir," Brady
whimpered. "So fucking good."
"And a good fucking is what you're about to get," Heck promised as
he leaned forward and kissed Brady on the lips even as he began ramming his
rigid tool in and out of Brady's grasping hole. And then the two of them
really went at it.
It was a little after 2:00 p.m. when Brady woke up for the second
time that day. He was a little unsettled to find himself alone in his bed
but then he remembered that, right before he headed home, Heck ordered him
to stay there and get some sleep. Now that he was awake, Brady decided to
luxuriate a little on the soft mattress. He knew once he got up the rules
would kick in and it'd be back to the floor and carpet for him until Heck
came by on Tuesday. And, even though it now felt totally natural for him
to be sleeping on the floor, Brady had to admit it was definitely more
comfortable to be lying in a bed.
Almost unconsciously, Brady's hands moved up to his tits and began
tweaking them. They didn't take nearly as much work now to keep them nice
and big, but Brady had come to enjoy playing with his own tits. He just
had to make sure he didn't overdo it because Heck had made it clear he
didn't want them to get any larger.
As he gently squeezed his swollen nips, Brady notice that the right
nipple was encrusted with dried cum, the remnants of the copious orgasm
he'd had during Heck's last fuck. Brady wasn't cumming anywhere near as
frequently as he did before Dr. Debt had turned him into a male bitch but
when he did the amount of cum that came spewing out of his cock was
something to behold.
Brady stayed in bed a few minutes longer, idly stroking his
hardening cock, remembering that last fuck he and Heck had shared, the way
Heck had bent down and made out within him while he was ravaging Brady's
pussy. It had felt so hot, so fucking hot, to have that studly teenage boy
kissing him and fucking him at the same time. Not just fucking him -
making love to him. He couldn't remember ever having been so aroused, so
turned on, in his entire life. Just thinking about it was almost enough to
get him to cum right now.
With a start, he let go of his slick cock like it was a hot iron.
'Fuck me,' he thought. 'That was close.' He had already discovered that
Heck enjoyed spanking him, enjoyed disciplining Brady like he was a little
boy. And, like a little boy, Brady was always in tears when Heck was
finished with him, embarrassed both by his reaction to the pain of the
assault on his butt as well as the hard erection that was inevitably
shooting up from Brady's crotch when he finally crawled off Heck's lap.
But those were bare-handed spankings. Last week, Heck had ordered
Brady to go out to an adult sex store and stock up on a number of items
Heck had seen on the internet. Some of the items Brady had never even seen
before, like the ball-spreader and the cock-cage. Some he had experienced
with Dr. Debt, like the butt-plug and the ball-gag. But included with
those items was a wooden paddle with holes in it. Brady asked the salesman
about the holes, and he was told that the holes decreased drag during the
swing and lessened any air cushion. "Really stings like hell, is what I've
heard."
When Brady showed Heck the purchases he'd made, the boy had told
Brady that the paddle was for those sessions in which he needed to be
punished. Brady remembered how much it had hurt when Dr. Debt used a
regular paddle on him - he sure wasn't anxious to try out a paddle with
holes in it. While he could play with himself as much as he wanted, Brady
was absolutely prohibited from cumming without Heck's permission. And he
had almost done just that. And, if he had, Brady was sure that Heck would
have been more than happy to punish him for that infraction. Brady wanted
to avoid a spanking session with the paddle as long as he could.
'It's going to be another cold shower, today,' Brady thought as he
looked down at his fully erect cock, literally pulsing before his eyes,
just at the edge of orgasm. He'd been taking a lot of those lately. Both
at home and at the gym.
He was just sitting up when his phone buzzed. 'Jesus,' he thought,
'it's like Heck can read my fucking mind.' He picked it up and slid his
finger across the screen to answer without even thinking. "Hey," he said.
"How you doing, bitch," a gruff voice responded.
Brady's heart skipped a beat and then started pounding in his
chest. "I'm fine....sir," he finally answered.
"Your girlfriend around?" the voice inquired.
"No, sir, she's not," Brady answered, wanting to hang up but
somehow unable. "Jen moved out."
"Not surprised, bitch," the man responded, the amusement obvious in
his voice. "Guess she didn't much like having a faggot for a boyfriend.
That right, bitch?"
"Yes, sir," Brady quietly responded.
"You been keeping your body shaved, bitch?" the man asked.
"Obeying your rules like a good bitch?"
"Yes, sir," Brady admitted.
"Good. Now, bitch, I want you to go give yourself a good douche.
I'll be over there in about half-an-hour. Mr. Bitch-Maker wants to give
your pussy another good workout. If you do a good enough job I just might
let you drain those little boy-balls of yours. Must be pretty full after
two weeks."
Brady heaved an audible sigh of relief. "I'm sorry, sir," he
replied. "But I can't do that."
There was a long pause. "Excuse me," Dr. Debt said, the menace
clear in his voice. "What can't you do?"
"I can't have sex with you, sir. That would violate Rule No. 7."
"Bitch, Rule No. 7 says your body is public property and always
available for use by others. And I intend to use it today, so cut your
crap."
"Sorry, sir, but that's the old Rule No. 7. My master revised it
and my body is now my master's private property and only available for use
by those he personally okays. He hasn't approved you so I can't have sex
with you. Sir."
There was another long pause. Then, almost shouting, Dr. Debt
snarled. "What the fuck are you talking about, bitch? I'm your master."
"No, you're not, sir," Brady responded with force, gaining
confidence the longer this conversation continued. "You were my master two
weeks ago, but that was only for six hours. Since then, I've acquired a
permanent master and he's revised my rules and they clearly provide that I
am not allowed to have sex with anyone other than my master unless he
personally orders me to. And he hasn't. So I can't have sex with you."
"Now you listen to me, bitch," Dr. Debt started.
Brady cut him off. "I'm sorry, sir, but I've said all I'm allowed
to say and I'm going to have to end this conversation. Goodbye, sir." And
with that, he clicked off his phone.
Brady sat on his bed, breathing heavily, trying to calm down. It
took him awhile, but he finally succeeded. And what he felt was an
enormous sense of relief and gratitude. Relief that he was no longer in
thrall to that asshole Dr. Debt and gratitude towards Heck for not only
agreeing to be his master but for being smart enough to change Brady's
programming so that he could refuse to service that disgusting man. 'Thank
you, Heck. Thank you, master. Thank you, thank you, thank you," he said
aloud. 'I am so lucky,' he said to himself as he finally got out of bed.
'So lucky.'
Brady took a quick look at the bed and saw how disheveled and
stained the sheets on the bed were. He'd have to do a load of laundry
after he showered. And then he was going to go out on the balcony and work
on his tan. He no longer cared if any of his neighbors saw him naked.
Heck wanted him to have an all-over tan and that's what he was going to
get. He was Heck's bitch now, thank God, and anything that boy wanted
Brady was going to do his utmost to provide. He was bound and determined
to make his new master - his only real master - happy. He might now be the
bitch for a fifteen-year-old master but Brady thought he was probably the
luckiest guy on the planet.
The reaction on the other end of the line was much different.
Dr. Debt sat there looking at his phone for almost half a minute. Then he
slammed it down. "Motherfuck!" he exclaimed.
The man was furious. He had spent $12,000 and used all the
experience twenty years in the business had given him to set that bitch
Brady up, to program him so that when the good doctor came calling in the
future and sent him to work the streets or the strip clubs - he would have
sent Brady to the streets, he was strong enough to protect himself - the
bitch wouldn't be able to say no.
A bitch like Brady would have made the $12,000 back in less than a
month and, after that, it would all have been gravy. When he moved him on
up to call-boy status, he'd double his take. And all that was merely
preparatory to the big bucks - renting him out a year at a time to rich
fuckers who didn't care how they got their boys just so that they were
good-looking, straight (if possible), and compliant. And the one thing
Dr. Debt could guarantee was that after his bitches had done their time on
the street and as high-paid rent-boys they were compliant. There wasn't
anything his bitches wouldn't do to please a client - hell, there usually
wasn't anything they hadn't already been forced to do. Dr. Debt had never
had a single complaint on that score.
Dr. Debt knew his scheme wasn't fool-proof. He carefully screened
each one of his prospective bitches at the initial one-on-one meeting he
always insisted on. Over the years, he had become more and more attuned to
the small signs that might show a particularly resistant personality. Any
time a guy set off his warning bell, he'd just end the interview and
recommend the guy file for bankruptcy - which was usually the dumb fuck's
only real salvation anyway. And all Dr. Debt was out was an hour of his
time. He only offered money to boys he was reasonably sure he'd be able to
program.
There were still a small number of guys, maybe one in twenty, who
he didn't get a true read on. They'd agree to meet his demands, take his
money and suffer through an evening that made their worst nightmare seem
like a happy fairy tale, but end up fundamentally unchanged. They had
served as his bitch for five or six hours but they hadn't become a bitch.
So, when he called these guys and tried to reel them in, like he'd just
done with Brady, they'd tell him right off the bat to go fuck himself.
Dr. Debt had learned to live with that. No system was perfect and
the guys who got away because the programming didn't take were simply the
cost of doing business. Of course, he also had the pleasure of knowing
that even though a guy had successfully resisted the programming he'd never
be the same as he was before he met Dr. Debt. He'd always be, even in his
own eyes, a guy who'd let another dude fuck him for money. He'd whored
himself out and a part of him would always remember that he was a whore,
even if he had only done it once.
But, while that was all well and good, the bottom line for Dr. Debt
was making money and he always hated it when one of his prospective bitches
slipped his snare. Fortunately, that was a small percent of his targets.
Most of the guys he programmed were guys like Brady, guys Dr. Debt just
knew were ripe for the picking, guys he was sure that he had hooked the
first time he bent them over and reamed out their cherry asses. And he had
been right about Brady. The programming had worked.
After he'd programmed his bitches, he always left them alone for a
couple of weeks. He'd found that forcing them to try and cope by
themselves with their programming over that long a period - their inability
to wear any clothing at home or underwear when they went outside, their
need to keep their bodies shaved and to keep working on their tits, and,
most important, their inability to masturbate regardless of how horny they
were - made them not only receptive to his offer to become their master but
actually grateful to him. And, once they agreed to have Dr. Debt as their
master, all his work was done and he could just rake in the money and all
the benefits that go with having a straight boy-bitch at your complete
disposal.
And Brady had been there, ripe for the picking. Only some other
dude had moved in and done the picking. The idea that some fucking asshole
could come along after Dr. Debt had spent his money and his time turning a
straight dude into a receptive male bitch and just scoop him up infuriated
the man. He tried to calm himself down but he was bubbling over with rage.
Just then, there was a knock on the door and Carlos entered.
"Mark, the new bitch, is ready, sir. You said you wanted to see him before
Juan drove him downtown."
Dr. Debt looked up at Carlos, his office manager, impressed as he
always was at how well the man's looks had held up over the years. He was
over forty now, but he could easily pass for a sexy young thirty. Of
course it helped that, like all his staff, both at home and in the office,
Carlos' body was permanently hairless. And, like all of his office staff
during working hours, the only item that Carlos was wearing was a small
padlock that connected his Prince Albert to the guiche on the base of his
scrotum. Carlos' cock could still plump up when sufficiently aroused, as
he was now, but it could no longer jut proudly out from his crotch
potentially distracting not only Carlos but even Dr. Debt from the work
that had to be done. And right now, the job facing Dr. Debt was sending
Mark, one of his new bitches, out on to the streets for the first time.
"Send him in," Dr. Debt ordered, tamping down his anger over the
Brady problem and forcing himself to focus on his present task, which was
much more enjoyable.
"Yes, sir," Carlos quickly replied and left. "Get your ass in
there, bitch," he heard Carlos instruct the waiting boy and then there was
Mark at the door, a picture of embarrassed sluttiness.
Mark was dressed in standard street-walker's duds: leather boots
with white socks, skimpy cotton shorts - at least two sizes too small -
cut-off tank top. He looked every bit the boy-whore he was about to
become. And the bitch knew it, too. You could tell by his posture, the
way he looked down at the floor, the pink tinge that colored all exposed
areas of his body - which was pretty much everything.
"Look at me, bitch," Dr. Debt ordered.
The boy looked up at his master. 'This kid was a real find,'
Dr. Debt told himself, admiring the boy's ruggedly muscled 5'11" frame, his
jet black hair setting off his deep sea-green eyes. And he was only
eighteen years old. Nineteen, Dr. Debt, quickly corrected himself. Today
was the boy's birthday. 'Happy Birthday, bitch,' Dr. Debt thought with a
laugh.
"Tell me what you're going to be doing today, bitch," Dr. Debt
instructed the boy.
The boy fidgeted under the man's unflinching gaze and bit his lower
lip. It looked for a moment as if he was about to cry. Instead,
stammering slightly Mark said, "I'm going to be selling my mouth and my
pussy to men who'll pay me for it." "Sir," he nervously added, as an
after-thought.
"And what's the price for your mouth and your pussy, bitch?"
Dr. Debt demanded.
"Seventy-five dollars for my mouth, one hundred and fifty for my
pussy, sir."
"And what do you tell any guy who wants to rent your pussy?"
"That they have to use a rubber, sir."
"And any guy who wants to use your mouth to shoot a load in?"
"I'll swallow it or they can shoot it on my face, whatever they
prefer, sir."
"And what do you do with the money after you get paid."
"I give it to ..." there was a long pause, while the boy wracked
his memory. Finally, he simply said, "I give it to the man who's there."
Dr. Debt shook his head in disgust. 'Bitches,' he thought, 'you
have to spoon-feed them everything, they're so fucking stupid.' Aloud he
said, "Davon. You give it to Davon. He's your pimp. Now repeat it."
"I give the money to Davon," the boy said.
"And who is Davon?" Dr. Debt demanded with asperity.
"He's my pimp, sir," Mark responded.
"Now try it all together, bitch," Dr. Debt ordered. "What do you
do with the money you get for selling your mouth and your pussy?"
A single tear was now making its way down the boy's face. Blushing
even brighter, he responded, "I give the money I get for selling my mouth
and my pussy to Davon, my pimp. Sir."
"That's right, bitch," Dr. Debt sneered. "All boy-whores like you
have a pimp to protect them from real men and your pimp's name is Davon."
"Yes, sir," the boy agreed in a flat monotone.
"And how long do you keep working, today, bitch?" Dr. Debt
continued.
"Until I make $1,000, sir."
"That's right, bitch. You keep working until you've made $1,000.
Davon will tell you when you're done and then he'll give Juan a call and
he'll come pick you up and take you home."
That last sentence really caught the boy's attention. "Juan will
be taking me home, sir? Not here?"
"Of course he'll be taking you home. Today is Sunday. We close up
shop here at 5:00 p.m. You're going to be on the street a lot longer than
that. A lot longer, bitch."
"But...but, sir. What if my parents see me dressed like this?
What will they think, sir? I can't go home dressed like this."
"First off, bitch," Dr. Debt responded, lapsing into his most
domineering voice, "you'll go home any way I tell you. Stark naked, if I
say so. Do you understand, bitch?"
"Yes, sir," Mark softly replied, completely intimidated as usual
when the man assumed his role as the boy's master. "I'll go home any way
you tell me, sir."
"Secondly," Dr. Debt continued, enjoying the boy's obvious
humiliation, "if your parents see you dressed that way, they'll think
you're a boy-whore. So what? That's what you are. A boy-whore. Do you
understand?"
Swallowing a sob, Mark answered as he'd been trained. "Yes, sir.
I understand. I'm a boy-whore, sir."
"That's right," Dr. Debt smirked. "You're a boy-whore. And Juan
will take you home tonight when you're done selling your body and he'll be
back at noon next Friday to pick you up again. Just be dressed the way you
are now. Understand bitch?"
"Yes, sir. I understand. I'll be ready next Friday at noon,
wearing the same clothes, sir."
"And one more thing, bitch," Dr. Debt smiled as he delivered the
coup de grace, "if either of your parents ask you what you're doing you
tell them you're a boy-whore now and you're selling your mouth and your
pussy to real men so that they can have a good time with your bitch body.
That's an order, bitch. You tell them just that."
The boy looked at Dr. Debt with pleading eyes, begging him to
relent. But there was no softening in the man's face. Crying openly, Mark
managed to croak out a "yes, sir," as his entire body sagged in total
despair.
Impassively, Dr. Debt watched the boy cry for a few minutes. Then,
he shouted "Carlos," in a loud voice. Immediately the office manager
appeared in the doorway.
"Get this bitch out of here and put his ass to work," the man
ordered.
"Yes, sir," Carlos replied. He grabbed the boy firmly by the arm
and led him out of Dr. Debt's office. After they were gone, Dr. Debt
reached into his desk and pulled out a cigar. He cut the end off and lit
up. That, at least, had gone according to plan. In a week, two at most,
Mark's parents would kick has ass out and the boy would be on the streets,
no place to live. No one to turn to except Dr. Debt.
Dr. Debt would find him a place to stay, in one of his apartments,
bunking up with other bitches who were working the streets or stripping at
the clubs or renting themselves out on-line. The boy would be immersed in
the world of boy-whores and soon he wouldn't remember a time when he hadn't
sold his body for money. And he'd quickly realize that there was a
hierarchy in the world of boy-whores and that he was presently occupying
the lowest rung. So he'd apply himself to improving his skills, his sexual
repertoire, his willingness to do anything to please a customer. And in
anywhere for six month to a year, after he'd progressed up the ladder from
street-whore to high-priced call boy, he'd be ready to go on the market as
a yearly rental.
A boy like Mark, with his looks and relative youth, would easily go
for between $50,000 to $70,000, a year. Dr. Debt's boys always brought top
dollar not only because of their good looks and their programming but
because, having seen the really sleazy side of the sex trade, they knew
they were relatively well-off and would go out of their way to please their
new owners.
Sure, Dr. Debt could have just ordered Mark to leave home and move
in with his other boys, but it was so much more satisfying to have the
boy's parents provide the impetus for their mutual estrangement. And they
would - they always did. And then there'd be only Dr. Debt. Mark was
definitely a success story in the making.
But as Dr. Debt leaned back in his chair and puffed on his cigar,
his mind travelled back to his conversation with Brady. Should he let it
go or should he try to do something about it? He knew from his own
experience that once he'd successfully conditioned one of his boys it was
virtually impossible to break the programming and with Brady that
programming would now work against him. But there was another way.
What if he programmed Brady's new master? If he did that, he'd be
able to force the new master to return Brady to Dr. Debt. And he'd also
get control of the master, too. That would be sweet. There'd be an
infinite number of ways to pay that asshole back for fucking around with
Dr. Debt's business, fucking around with one of Dr. Debt's bitches. It
just might be worth all the effort that would be needed.
That was certainly something to think about. And as Dr. Debt
slowly rocked in his chair, that's just what he was doing. Suddenly, a
smile blossomed on his face. He brought the cigar back to his mouth and
blew a smoke ring that slowly expanded until it disappeared into the air.
_____________________________________________________________
Well, that's the end of Dr. Debt & His New Bitch. At least for
now. I'm sure that some will find the ending too much like "The Lady or
The Tiger," but sometimes I think it is more true to life if the ending is
left up in the air. Do Brady and Heck live happily ever after? Does Brady
end up serving as a fuck-bitch for half the boys in Heck's high school?
Does Dr. Debt get his revenge? Or does he move on? And what happens to
Mark as he begins his life as a rent-boy in Dr. Debt's stable? All of
these questions have different possible answers. But, all of those answers
lie in the future - if ever.
For now, I just want to thank all the readers who took the time to
write me and tell me how much they were enjoying the story. And to remind
everyone that Nifty survives on the generosity of its readers.
Rafi