"MODEL MAN"
                                       by
                                  Conquistador


He pretended he didn't see it coming.

SMACK!

The force of my slap had thrown him against the wall.  He slid
down it, his eye area quickly turning black and blue.  He smiled,
as if cherishing the pain he was feeling at the moment.  I wanted
to not watch this, but it was literally my job to punish, and to
pretend to savor it.  

"Had enough yet?  You faggot Marine!"

He looked at me and skillfully faked weariness.  There was very
little I could do to this guy, that he couldn't really take.  He
answered the question by wearily nodding his head.  I then
grabbed this 6 foot plus, 200# ex-Marine and helped him up.  We
limped into the bedroom, where I proceeded to dump him on his
bed.  He laid face down, ass up and apparently helpless.  This
way the way HE liked it.  I proceeded to raid his closet for that
supply of coarse feeling rope that I always knew was there.

"Sir, please don't rape me!  I've never been fucked before!"

"SHUT UP FAG!", I yelled.  I did not let my half-heartedness
show.  "Fucking Marines!  Think you own the goddamn world and
every pussy and cock in it, don't ya?!"  I grabbed his right
ankle and proceeded to tie -- HARD!

"Oh, yes SIR!"

"Well, you're wrong you conceited fuck!  And now I am going to
show you who owns who!"

While tying him up, I proceed to berate him and his former, and
pretended current, profession.  He's been a client for quite some
time.  Being a "professional model" wasn't easy work some days,
but what other profession pays so well for so little.  I spend
the rest of my days working out, sleeping, eating and doing
whatever I please in exchange for 10-20 hours a week of being
whatever my clients want me to -- within reason.  

I smacked him on the face one more time, he yelped in pain.  I
was satisfied and proceeded to slip on the safe, and mount his
hairy hole.  He wasn't in bad shape for a 40 year-old, in fact
pretty damn good for a 20-year old.  Ex-Marines were definitely
interesting fucks, provided they kept a little of that Marine
mentality with them.  I had learned much about my client's
outside-of-the-bedroom life in two years.  

He had joined the Marines right out of high school, and like most
eighteen year-olds was searching for manhood.  To me, it seems he
would have succeeded with or without military studies, as this man
had it all.  He worked his ass off all through high school both
as a good student and athlete, but never fully excelling at
either.  It didn't matter, he's was great at little, but good at
almost everything.  He served in the Marines for almost 10 years
before taking a civilian position with a large corporation
dealing with corporate security.  He had been doing it ever
since, 12 years.  God, what job security this guy had in his
life.

"Oooooh God, Sir, you're hurting me!  Please stop!"

"SHUT UP SLAVE!", I said.

"No, Joe, really!"  He used my "professional" name, and this was
a sign that he wasn't kidding.

"Okay, sorry."  I didn't realize I was hurting him.  I slowly
pulled my cock out and checked the rubber: no blood, no feces. 
This was a good sign.  I got off the bed and untied him -- the
"fun and games" portion of the evening was over.

We lay next to each other and he smiled, "I'm getting too old for
this shit!"

"You are definitely the most interesting client I have ever had,
Sir."  I returned to being the subservient one.

"After these last two years, you can't call me Rich except at the
door?"

"Well you know me, manners and all."  I had been raised in a
strict atmosphere where I called everyone "Sir" or "Ma'am".  My
manners tended to annoy the fuck out of most people.  Despite my
manners and professionalism, I found myself asking one of the
questions I knew I shouldn't.

"How did you get into gay sex?  High school locker rooms? 
Marines?  Executive washrooms?"

"Well, in high school, I played baseball.  But all I did there
was a little bit of oral, and I got to fuck the Quarterback of
the football team once."

"Nice!", I said.

"Not really!  He was a jerk, and that really spoiled gay sex for
me, for a few years at least.  Never did much in boot camp, or
until I was 24 or 25."

"How did you feel about lying about the gay sex thing in high
school when you signed up?"

"Actually, I didn't.  I signed up in April with the Marines, I
fucked the quarterback three weeks later."

I almost wanted to kiss him.  He could be a rough bastard, he
just wasn't by nature.  A sweet soul with a cock, who likes
abuse.  I was probing his mind, trying to figure out why he liked
the things that he did.  Why did he enjoy being hurt?  Did he
fuck girls or guys first?  Was he in ever in love with anyone
from either sex?  I continued to ask everything I wasn't supposed
to.  After all, I was a paid fuck, I wasn't supposed to feel. 
Anything.

He told me about how he got married at 23, how his wife knew even
before they were married about his dual urges.  She didn't mind
as she had a low sex drive, and could only satisfy him once a
month, if that.  His wife was really the only love he ever had,
as he didn't "love" men.  The first girl he fucked was right
before the quarterback, a not-so-pretty but oh-so-nice girl that
had a crush on him for years.  He told me how he turned pain into
adrenaline and torture into manliness.  After all, since he
wasn't a prick deep down, he didn't feel macho.  Then, like a
macho prick, he turned the tables.

"How 'bout you?  Why did you become a prostitute, if I can use
that word."

He was the client, he could.

I told him about how I was always picked on as a kid, and when I
got to be a Senior in high school, learned about eating right and
working out.  In three years I had gone from fat weakling to
bodybuilding perfection. I told him how I learned about style
over substance and learning not to care, rather than letting my
life get to me.  Pumping gas was okay, it paid the rent.  But
pumping men paid more.  I always liked sex with men, and had
fucked and been fucked by many gym mates.  Bodybuilders aren't
afraid of what each other thinks, after all, everyone is the
strongest one in the gym.  I told him I was saving enough money
to go to college without having to borrow for food, rent, tuition
or life expenses.  Like him, I wanted to enter business.  Unlike
him, I wanted to be in management.  After two years, even paying
honest taxes and living "high", I almost had enough to buy a car,
and go study for a Bachelor's and MBA just about anywhere I
wanted.  After all, my time was valuable.  

Later we both got dressed and smiled at each other.  We now knew
the demons that drove each other, and knew that neither of us
would betray the other as only human.  I thought to myself how
much I would miss him after "retiring" in another six months, but
almost having enough not only to go to school, but for the other
things important in this life like a car, a house, etc., I
decided it would be nice to have him over on equal terms one of
these days, and not as hooker and "john".
   
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Inspired by fantasies on SouthWestern Exposure (520) 574-1694 and 
on the Modem Men (515) 945-6636