Date: Sun, 24 Aug 2008 13:33:50 -0700 (PDT) From: Pete Smith <enslaved2str8@yahoo.com> Subject: Enslaving Jason--Chapter 5 ENSLAVING JASON -- CHAPTER 5 By Pete Smith When I finally sent submissive Jase an e-mail inviting her to make the trip from Portland to Seattle to visit me for a weekend, I heard nothing back from her for a few days. Yes, dudes, I INVITED her to visit me. I didn't order her. At this delicate stage of a girl's development, attempting to take direct control over her choices usually backfires: terrified at confronting what she is and surrendering her life utterly to another human being, she will invariably pull away. In some cases, she will eventually return to you; other times, she will be lost to you forever. So, dudes, if you really want to get an iron lock on a promising young girl's head, heart and body, you need to let her put one submissive foot in front of the other. Try to force her to take two or three steps at a time, and you will likely lose her, at least temporarily; sometimes forever. The sweetest kind of enslavement is this kind: taking a young, inexperienced, fearful girl like Jase and helping her to understand, and accept, what she really is. It's one thing to enslave an experienced faggot: those sick fuckin' whores typically can be degraded and used brutally without objection (or at least beaten down until they cannot object to you). Frankly, my heart (and dick) isn't much into deepening the enslavement of whores who already know what they are. I'm not saying I don't get off on tying up, whipping and raping experienced whores, dude. Naturally, I do. But there is nothing sweeter than leading an inexperienced girl down the path of her own recognition of herself as a submissive girl and then painfully popping her eager but achingly tight cherry. It is only the young, inexperienced girls who have the potential of reaching the ultimate in Man-woman relations: service as a totally devoted, submissive and obedient wife. It is the exceptional girl who has the potential to become an obedient wife -- one whose only pleasure can come through satisfying the demands, desires and whims of her Man. I'm speaking here of the wife in the old-fashioned sense: a woman who is properly and legally considered to be a mere appendage of the Man; "chattel" -- that is, just another piece of personal property of the Man, to used -- or disposed of -- as he sees fit. A woman who if she fails to get pregnant despite her Man's repeated seeding of her pussy, will gladly accept physical punishment for her failure to serve her one true function on Earth: to give her Man a male child, who may himself, in due course, come to dominate her as well. Dudes, I know some of you assholes are into the whole Master-slave thing. You know, using and abusing faggots as slaves; making faggots into debased things that will gladly accept whatever you want to do them -- fist-fucking them, drugging and gang-raping them, whoring them out to angry, fag-hating construction workers, etc. I'm not judging you, dudes. To each his own. What I'm talking about here, though, is helping submissive young girls understand what they are and then firmly, but lovingly, guiding them into total submission to a Real Man's needs and wants. Self-enslavement is the most powerful type, dudes. As long as the girl perceives that control is being imposed on her from the outside, the possibility of resistance is always present. It may be far below the surface sometimes, but it is always there. By contrast, a girl who is slowly, but surely, led down the path of total surrender and self-enslavement will not know herself as separate from her Man, her Controller and her Leader. She will have no identity apart from his. Failing to please him will be like failing to exist at all. Thus, although firm training and periodic no-nonsense correction is natural and necessary for her to blossom fully as an obedient, subservient woman, once the die is cast, she will know no meaning apart from satisfying her Man. To get back to the faggot at hand, I knew there was a war going on in submissive Jase's brain. Her daily e-mails to me about how she would wear my sweat-, piss- and cum-stained jockstrap over her nose and mouth to bring herself to multiple climaxes each day convinced me that she had become addicted to the smells and tastes of my amazing body. Boys, this is the natural and inevitable result for young faggots like Jase. These sick, twisted bastards are genetically programmed to crave the sights, smells and tastes of Real Men. These deep, inherent cravings can be suppressed for periods of time -- in some cases, years, even decades -- but once exposed to the light of day, they become the controlling condition in a faggot's life and dictate they be satisfied whatever the fuck it takes. Your skill as a Top is in using and manipulating the girl's natural submissive cravings to your advantage, until the satisfaction of those cravings and your pleasure are indistinguishable in the girl's head. Matched against the submissive faggot's strong and natural cravings to be near Real Men are her overwhelming feelings of fear and self-hatred. This is the balance that must be carefully managed by the new Man in her life. It calls for subtlety and a deft hand. Having a few times in the past tried to force a girl to move forward in her submissive unfoldment too soon, I had learned the delicate art of leading her step by beautiful step down the path of her own enslavement. And so I once again gave submissive Jase the physical and emotional space I knew she needed to move through the strongest parts of her fear of confronting the reality of what she truly is. I knew that for the first time since she received my rank jockstrap, her libido would be dampened by her raw fear and anxiety. Whereas before the mere thought or memory of the beautiful smells and tastes of my soiled athletic strap would make her little clit stiff and leaky in her panties, she now would find herself overwhelmed by waves of fear and self-loathing. Dudes, are you following me fully here? Can you see and understand how such young girls need to develop and come down their own paths? Yes, it is natural, necessary and appropriate for the Man to lead them on the path; but he cannot force them along. He must open the way for them; allow them to choose to take the next step toward their own enslavement to your will. The right moment will eventually arise to seal the deal and purposefully crush any remaining element of independence or identification beyond your own needs and desires. The girl must, however, realize that it is she herself who has chosen to relinquish her weak, inferior identity in favor of your dominant, superior will and personality. Then she truly will be your tool to use solely as you see fit! I checked my e-mail each morning for a message from Jase. I was not impatient, angry or disappointed when I found no message; nor did I consider initiating communication with her myself. Instead, each morning after checking my e-mail, I would take a long, slow run around the high school track, my long, thick dick constantly rockhard in my jockstrap, leaking warm precum into the cotton pouch that tightly hugged my cock and balls. Something about this time in a girl's development always makes me feel exceedingly horny. I guess it is knowing that the girl is passing through a critical stage in her development. She is tormented and torn between her deep, natural craving to serve me and her seemingly equally strong fears and self-loathing. Properly understood, dudes, this is a very beautiful and erotic time. I'm not sure why Nature designed things this way, but once you become skilled in exploiting it, there are few things sweeter than setting up a girl to surrender in this way. To the girl, the situation seems irresolvable -- she's on tenterhooks (yeah, assholes, that's spelled right; Google it, shitheads). You know, however, that if you handle her right, her craving for you will always win out over her fears. Unbeknownst to the girl, her fears, though seemingly fixed, deep and longstanding, are in fact merely the inventions of her feverish, twisted subconscious. Your deft handling of her will allow her fears to come to the surface and, with just a little time, be faced, confronted and resolved. What is left, then, is her pure and insatiable drive to know and live what she was born for: to serve as a passive, but eager, human receptacle for the sexual aggression of a Real Man like you. As I completed my Friday morning run, my athletic supporter felt really crusty and disgusting as it pressed snuggly against my big dick and balls. The pouch had become hardened from the combination of my sweat, precum and leftover piss. Each morning during my runs the pouch would soften a little from my fresh sweat and precum, only to become even harder and crustier than before. When I pulled it off before jumping in the shower, I saw that the fuckin' thing was actually starting to rub my hard cock a little raw with its crustiness. As I threw the disgusting, smelly strap into my laundry basket, I figured that would be the last time I would try to wear it on my runs. As the hot water of the shower poured over my powerful, muscular body, I felt a surge of horniness flow through me, ending in my dick and balls. My hard, thick dick was rigid and pulsing with a demand to be satisfied. I resisted the impulse to grab it and beat out a quick load down the shower drain, though. I knew the sexual aggression I was feeling could be channeled effectively all day at work. I dried myself with a big towel as I walked to my laptop. Instinctively, I checked one more time for a message from submissive Jase. And there it was! Like I said, dudes, very beautiful. Again, timing is the key. Jase had largely worked through her own strong fears. After being racked with fear and anxiety for days, by Thursday night Jase found herself settled and was surprised to find her libido powerfully reanimated. She said she felt filled with a sexual electricity unlike anything she had known before in her young life, including during the early, heady days of her worshipping the soiled jockstrap I had sent her as a gift to help shape her impressionable mind. She was consumed by an irrational lust she said she could not fully understand or control. (Don't worry, bitch, I understand it enough for both us.) She said her head would be hit with a sexual high whenever she thought about me or my beautiful, filthy strap. She had been up all night smelling and tasting the piss, sweat and precum in the strap. She worn it over her nose and mouth, allowing her to both smell and taste me as she touched herself over and over all night, cumming so violently that she could not help shouting out loudly as she spurted her girl ejaculate onto her face, neck, chest and stomach. Fortunately, her family was out for the evening the first and second times she came and therefore they could not hear her sharp cries of passion. Once they returned home, she stuffed her own cum-encrusted panties into her mouth under my jockstrap to help mute her orgasmic cries. Again and again throughout the night she pleasured herself to my smell and tastes, until finally she feel asleep sometime in the very early morning, exhausted and having totally drained every last drop of girl juice from her young body. She awoke in the morning shocked to find that her clit was still completely stiff, seemingly locked into a perpetual state of turgidity. Her female organ pulsed very painfully in her crotch, reddened and irritated by the hours of self-abuse it had endured over the course of the night. She had a powerful urge to piss, but couldn't will her girl part to soften enough to piss. She knew girls had to piss sitting down, so she sat nervously on the toilet seat waiting for her clit to deflate sufficiently to relieve herself. After an impossibly long few minutes, she became alarmed when her clit remained as stiff as ever. She thought for a moment about trying to beat another load out of herself to try to get the fuckin' thing down, but her girl part looked so raw and red with irritation she didn't dare try to touch it again. Instead, she quickly rose off the toilet seat and turned on the cold water in the shower. She couched down on the cold shower floor like a girl needing to take a piss in the woods. She shivered and her external ovaries jumped into her body as she knelt under the cascading ice-cold water. In just a moment, she felt her clit begin to soften a little. Then, making an audible sigh, she felt her hot piss begin splashing against her leg. She knelt there for a quiet minute or two as her bladder drained its hot contents urgently and completely onto her leg, creating a yellow river toward the shower drain. It was such a fucking relief to unburden herself like that. Once she was completely drained, she again felt fully the iciness of the shower water and quickly turned it off. Totally drained and exhausted, she headed for her bed to collapse without having the energy to dry herself. Before she reached her bed, however, she found herself turning and sitting down at her computer to write me, still dripping wet, as if responding to an unspoken command from me. I responded to Jase that I was very proud of her and that the time had indeed arrived for her to come and spend a weekend with me so that she could finally learn why she had been born. I knew she was finally ready for it. I instructed her to be available for an online chat that night at 10 p.m. to receive my instructions for preparing to visit. At the office I was incredibly turned on all morning. By lunchtime, I needed to get a load off to relieve a bit of my excess sexual tension, so I quietly and firmly instructed a faggy 17-year-old intern in my office to meet me in the building basement at noon sharp for a "special project." Now I don't really care much for the faggy boys, but I wanted to get a quick load off and needed to select the most eligible candidate for my deposit. Danny (possibly short for "Danielle") was a stupid asshole had been keeping one eye on how my beautiful, muscular body filled out my custom-made suits ever since "he" started working in the office. Try not to be SO obvious, faggot! I often thought to myself as I noticed out of the corner of my eye the queer taking in a long look at me. Just for the fun of it, every once in a while I would catch his eyes when he was trying to sneak a peak of me unnoticed. Unlike a typical faggot (of which we've had plenty in the office over the years) who would immediately look away when caught gawking at me, this faggot would just stand there transfixed, frozen in place with fear in his eyes like some fuckin' deer in the headlights. Something about his automatic powerlessly triggered by my mere gaze brought out the predator in me and make my cock achingly hard and needing release inside one or more submissive holes. Our building basement was old, large and used only for storage. People seldom went down there. It had a foul-smelling three-urinal, two-stall restroom in one corner of the floor that no one ever used. It made for a convenient, private place for me to occasionally unload into an office faggot. The eager shithead arrived five minutes early with a very nervous look on his face. Quickly sizing him up, I tersely instructed him, "Into the restroom!" The faggot nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of my firm, deep voice, but I noticed with satisfaction that he didn't hesitate before heading straight (or, in his case, not-so-straight) toward the bathroom. "Get into the stall," I ordered him, pointing to the second stall, which was the larger of the two. Following him inside, I turned him around to face the back wall and quickly yanked open his pants and pulled them and his faggy briefs down to his ankles. My head (and dick) was filled with lust right now and I didn't want to waste any time on preliminaries. I just needed to get a quick load out to take the edge off, so I could have a productive afternoon. I didn't even bother to drop my pants. I simply unzipped my pants and reached inside my jock and pulled my large, thick dick out into the open. Using my hand, I quickly pushed the kid over the top of the toilet and moved forward until the leaking mushroom head of my rigid cock was poised at the entrance of the boy's tiny pussy opening. I always relish the moment in time before taking a boy's pussy with my big dick. Even when a faggot has had the stiff clits of his fellow queers pushed up his ass, he doesn't know what he was made for until a Real Man works his strong, powerful cock inside and fucks him down like the submissive woman he is. I knew this kid would never survive my fucking without some lube, so I spit generously several times into my hand and used it to coat the big head and thick shaft of my beautiful dick. The shithead was panting hard when I began to push inside his achingly tight cunt. I had to use considerable force to get the big head inside him and yanked hard on his silky, girlish hair when he started to cry out in pain. He seemed to get the message and, except for the occasional muffled groan of pain, remained silent as I slowly worked most of the rest of my hard cock inside his pussy. His hole gripped me like a motherfucker. I could get about six of my eight inches inside him without extreme difficulty. I didn't want to tear this shithead's asshole in the basement of my own building, so I contented myself with substantial penetration and began moving slowly back and forth inside the faggot. The friction of his moist pussy walls on my rigid dick was intense. I knew it wouldn't take very long for me to make my deposit of babymakers deep inside. After just a few minutes, I began to pick up the pace of my fucking. The faggot began to really moan in pain. I knew I needed to finish the job quickly and, yanking hard on his hair to keep him quiet, fucked him hard and quick until I felt my thick dick begin pulsing deep inside the vise-grip of his painfully stretched pussy. I tilted my head back in pleasure and relief as my cock erupted load after load of hot cum inside the kid's super-tight pussy. When I had finished cumming, I pulled out of the boy's cunthole abruptly, causing him to cry out in pain. I impatiently pushed the panting queer to his knees in the stall. "Clean it!" When the fuckin' faggot hesitated, I quickly gripped his hair with my left hand and used my right to insert my still-rigid, shit- and cum-coated dick into his face. He got the message and began tentatively licking and sucking my cock clean. He gagged a little because of the size and taste of my filthy cock, but he didn't try to pull away from me. Once he had gotten my dick completely clean, I was tempted to give him a face-fuck (I never have trouble getting off a couple of times in a row), but needed to get back upstairs to prepare for a 1 p.m. client meeting. Then I had an idea. "We need to wash that shit down for you, boy," I informed him firmly, so as to leave no doubt in his mind about the certainty of what was coming next. "I'm just helping you out, you know. You don't want to go back upstairs smellin' like you had cum and shit for lunch, do you?" The puzzled looked on the kneeling young queer's face was priceless, dudes! "You need to listen very carefully to me, shithead. You're gonna take my piss right now. You're gonna drink it all down into your little queer tummy. You need to swallow down every single drop; otherwise, everyone upstairs is gonna smell my piss on you and realize what a sick, twisted freak you are. Understand me, cunt?" The kid's face registered shock and his head reflexively moved back from my dick. Smiling to myself, I simply gripped his head firmly with both my hands and pulled it forward until my now half-hard cock was resting inside his mouth. I could feel him shaking nervously in my hands, but he didn't resist as I held his head firmly and slowly began draining my bladder inside him. I pissed as slowly as I could, allowing him to swallow down my hot urine in small gulps. Whenever I sensed he was about to choke, I used one of my hands to press the base of my cock to stop the flow. After maybe five minutes of stop-and-go pissing, I was drained completely and pulled my cock out of the cunt's mouth with a gentle plop. The kid's face was flush with exertion and lack of oxygen. I chuckled to myself at his state and then told him he should take the afternoon off. Rearranging myself, I made my way back upstairs and told the administrative support supervisor that Danny had to leave early for the day. When she asked why, I told her I thought his boyfriend was having menstrual cramps and he needed to go home to take care of her. She shot me a funny look, but didn't question my obviously tongue-in-check explanation of why a young faggot might need to leave early for the day. Having gotten off loads of cum and piss into a faggot at lunchtime, I felt great and had an outstanding afternoon meeting with my client. I was feeling on the top of the world by the time I got home that evening. Looking forward to my scheduled chat with Jase at 10 p.m., after eating dinner I passed the time watching a football game on TV and downing a few beers. Right before 10 p.m., I emptied the beer from my bladder into the toilet. I closed my eyes for a moment and imagined Jase on her knees before me. I love feeding a submissive girl a big load of warm recycled beer directly from the tap; gettin' her drunk on the contents of my fuckin' bladder. I planned to train Jase so that she would love anything that came out of my dick. After a weekend of consuming little else but my cum and urine, I figured she would be totally hooked on me and would willingly do whatever it took to get more. Promptly at 10 p.m. I logged in and established communication with my girl. I gave her my instructions. The next weekend was a four-day weekend and would be a good time for her to visit. I told her she was to arrive in Seattle Friday afternoon by 5 p.m. and plan to leave Monday afternoon to return home to Portland. Wednesday night she was to shave her body completely free of hair from her neck to her toes, ensuring that no hair could be found on her chest, armpits, crotch, arms, legs, ass, even her fingers and toes. I gave her instructions on the best way to shave herself without cutting herself. When she objected that the boys in the lockerroom would see that she was completely hairless from the neck down, I told her a didn't give a fuck. I advised her to bring both pairs of her panties with her: one was to be freshly washed by hand and to be worn on the trip; the other was to be soiled and crusted from her girl juices and sealed in a Ziploc bag. After I gave her careful directions on finding my place, I told her that upon arrival she was to ring my doorbell and then kneel down in front of my door, her head respectfully bowed. I told her the first thing she would do upon arriving would be to kiss my boots as a sign of respect. Unless instructed otherwise, she was always to address me as "Sir" and never speak unless spoken to. Finally, I informed her that the decision to come to me was her own, but that if she did come, that would be her last decision for the weekend. I told her she needed to trust me and allow me to make all of her decisions for her. She said she was afraid, but would comply with all of my instructions. Very sweet, dudes. We exchanged cellphone numbers and that was that. I knew there was a small chance that Jase would back out before Friday arrived, but I had a good feeling about it. I knew that I had cultivated this eager young girl carefully and well, and that she was craving what was coming next for her. Some fear on her part was totally natural and healthy. I knew her fear was manageable, however. I encouraged her to confide in me during the week about her feelings, so that I could manage them for her until she arrived on Friday and let me take over her life for her, at least for that long weekend. During the week, both of us were crazy and horny with anticipation. I used office faggot Danny several times during the week at both lunchtime and after work in the basement restroom to take the edge off. On Wednesday at lunchtime, I admit I got a little rough while face-fucking him in the bathroom stall. Every time I would force my thick, hard cock down his tight throat his head would bang against the metal wall of the stall. He had a terrific headache after that experience and had to go home early to recover. The fuckin' queer, though, was back for more first thing the next morning, dudes. Even though his head still hurt from the rough face-fuck I had put to him at lunch the day before, I could tell he was eager to get back down on his knees to worship and swallow my demanding cock. What a sick motherfucker! I thought. Jase was coming the next day, however, and my interest in this faggy teenager was at an end. After work that night, I met him a final time in that rank-smelling stall. This time, I showed no mercy in burying my large, rigid cock deep into his spasming throat. Based on his past gagging and choking patterns, I knew exactly how to handle him to achieve the result I wanted. I gripped his hair vise-like in my fists and repeatedly plunged my cock all the way inside his amazingly tight throat. He tried desperately to pull his head back to escape the onslaught of my punishing cock, but I held him tight with my hands and fucked his throat mercilessly. This cocksuckin' motherfucker ain't goin' nowhere, I thought cruelly to myself. With perfect timing, I withdrew my phlegm-coated dick from his throat and quickly stepped aside as the little bitch began vomiting violently into the toilet bowl on his knees. Perfect! When he had finished throwing up, the kid, still on his bruised knees, turned slowly and looked up at me pitifully. Dudes, this asshole really looked like shit! His face was sweaty and flush, his lips were swollen from the rough face-fuck I had administered, and remnants of liquid vomit dripped slowly from his chin. The stupid shit really looked like he had been to hell and back. Dudes, the best part, though, was the look of guilt and fear on the kid's face. Instead of being angry at me for raping his throat until he dumped the contents of his stomach into the toilet, I could tell he was actually ashamed at not being able to take me exactly as I had demanded. I resisted the urge to slap him hard across the face to tangibly confirm his fears. Instead, I curtly informed him that he did not deserve my cock any more since he couldn't take it. Maybe, I suggested, he should go back to sucking the little dicks of his fellow faggots. When I then proceeded to hose him down from head to toe with the hot contents of my very full bladder, he only bowed his head and with closed eyes submissively accepted my harsh, wet verdict on his lack of worthiness to serve a Real Man. Very beautiful, indeed, men. I left him there on his knees on the stall floor drenched in my stinking piss. That was the last time I ever saw him. He never came back to work. The administrative support supervisor sent out an intraoffice memo saying that Danny had quit without explanation and that the hiring committee, headed by me, would need to find a new high school intern to take his place. To Be Continued. . .