Date: Fri, 26 Jun 2015 19:52:46 +0000
From: white collar <white_collar@hotmail.com>
Subject: Converted to cock-sucker 15

Author:  white collar
Subject: Converted to cock-sucker (Oral, anal, forced, humiliation)

Please remember that Nifty is a free site, but still requires funds to
continue operating. Please provide a donation at
http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html to keep these great stories coming

I need to say this: Note that this is fantasy, not real life.  If you are a
sub, you still have dignity and you should have a voice.  If you are
involved in a BDSM scene, the sub has the right to set limits and to have a
safe-word to immediately put a stop to the proceedings if it turns out to
be too much.  If the dom/sado won't recognize your rights as a sub, my
suggestion is to say "thanks for your time sir," and walk away.  This is
sexual role-play and is supposed to be consensual.  Non-consensual is
assault and is a criminal act.

Any comments will be gladly received at white_collar@hotmail.com

Chapter 27

Wayne:

The car Paul and I were being transported in moved smoothly through the
night.  Of course, we perceived nothing of the world outside; we were
cocooned in darkness.  Our tears had dried and we simply held onto one
another, knowing that each would be the only comfort the other would have
for the foreseeable future.  After a time, the usual amount of time for
driving through the city, with the usual starts and stops for traffic,
traffic lights, etc. we came to a complete stop.  The sounds of traffic, as
much as we could hear, stopped, as did the engine.  We'd reached our
destination, or so I supposed.

The trunk clicked and opened, revealing Aiden and Master standing there.
We both blinked and squinted in the bright light, having been ensconced in
darkness for at least half an hour.  We were in a parking garage, albeit, a
very clean, very well-lighted, very nice parking garage.

"Cuff 'em," Master said and strode off toward what appeared to be an
elevator door.

"Hands behind your backs faggots," Aiden ordered and fastened cuffs around
our wrists.  "Let's go."

Oh my God!  I felt profoundly humiliated.  Yes, we had the coveralls on,
but it was apparent we weren't your run-of-the-mill workmen, especially
with our hands cuffed behind our backs and flip-flops on our feet.  We both
hung our heads in shame and followed Aiden across the garage floor.

"C'mon, move it!" Master ordered to all three of us.

Aiden moved faster and Paul and I followed suit.  Master swept through the
elevator door, Aiden followed and Paul and I brought up the rear.  Master
inserted a key into a lock on the panel, pushed the top button and the door
closed.  I breathed a sigh of relief; we weren't likely to be seeing the
addition of other passengers on the way up: something told me that Master
got his own way when it came to fellow elevator occupants as much as
anything else in his life.

"On your knees!" Master ordered, again to no one in particular.

I fell to my knees, as did Paul, the increase in Gs from the elevator's
sudden acceleration pushing us to the floor more forcefully than we might
otherwise have gone down.  I detected a slight flex in Aiden's knees, but
he reconsidered apparently, and remained standing.  Master fixed him with
an enigmatic stare.  Clearly, Aiden didn't know what was expected of him at
this point, but his nature was not like mine and Paul's.  We had been
trained to submit without question.  He met Master's stare for a few
moments, shifting back and forth from one foot to the other and then
dropped his eyes.  We rode to the penthouse in silence.

The elevator slid to a halt and the door opened into what was obviously
Master's penthouse apartment.  The view of a more-or-less darkened Central
Park contrasting with the bright lights of mid-town was stunning.  Master
ordered Paul and me to remain standing in the foyer.  He went down the hall
and returned a few minutes later.  He had shed his suit jacket, but
otherwise remained clothed.  Without a word, he and Aiden unzipped our
coveralls and pulled them off our shoulders.  Master removed the cuff from
one wrist for each of us and pulled the one-piece suits off of our torsos.
Then he ordered us to step out of them, leaving them in piles on the floor
with our flip-flops beneath.  He re-cuffed our hands behind our backs and
ordered Aiden to pick the coveralls up and deposit them in the closet off
the foyer.

Master reached into his pocket and pulled out two sets of nipple cups.  He
uncapped a jar of cream that was sitting on a side table and dipped the
tips of his index fingers in, then handed the jar to Aiden.  Aiden repeated
the motions.  Then Master began to coat my areolas with the cream.
Involuntarily, I inhaled and groaned deep in my throat, my response to
nipple stimulation having become automatic.  As Master tweaked my eraser
nips, my back arched and I shivered.  I could hear a similar response from
Paul as Aiden applied cream to his nipples.  Next came the application of
the cups.  I shivered again as my nipples were sucked into the cups.

"Kneel and wait here," Master ordered.

Paul and I remained kneeling on the floor.  I had to alternate between
kneeling up and settling back on my heels to rest my thighs and take a
little weight off my knees; the marble floor was never made for kneeling
on, unless one was a slave whose master didn't care a whit about the
slave's comfort, as I sure was true when slavery was legally practiced.
But then, I am a slave, just not legally so.

Master and Aiden went down the hall and we could hear them as they attended
to something.  Then the buzzer rang.  Master came to the communications
unit on the wall.

"Kelly?"

"Yes sir, I'm here sir.  You wanted me to help you out with something?"

"Be right down."

Master pressed the button for the elevator which hadn't been summoned by
any other owner, apparently, because the door opened immediately.  Master
went down and in about four minutes the door opened, revealing Steve Kelly
with Master standing behind him.

I vaguely remembered Kelly when I saw him.  He worked in the maintenance
department and was seen around the office several times a week, doing odd
jobs.  But I am ashamed to say, I'd always thought of him as part of the
"below decks" people: the employees who worked out of the basement and
those of us who worked in the offices didn't really interact with them or
notice them.  Kneeling there, naked, hands cuffed behind me, next to Paul,
I realized that I had no call to think of myself in any superior way.
Certainly not now.

Steve Kelly was tall and lanky; buzz-cut blond hair and bright blue eyes.
His wiry body was propelled by taut muscles built on hard work, not in a
gym.  When the doors opened, his eyes got big and his muscles tightened as
he looked first at Aiden and then at Paul and me.  I could see the mental
calculations as he realized why he'd been brought here; he turned around
and found himself in a self-executed arm lock.  Master had adeptly taken
his wrist as he realized what was going on and now understood that he was
fucked.  Master pushed him out of the elevator and down on his knees.

"No, please, please, no," was all he said.

Master held out his hand and Aiden passed him a bottle.

"Open your mouth Kelly.  Just swallow like a good boy," Master coaxed.

"No, no, please sir," Steve cried.

Master put the bottle to his lips and poured the liquid down his gullet.
Kelly had no choice but to swallow.  He choked, spraying Master with fluid,
but Master held tight and continued to pour the fluid, whatever it was,
down his throat.  Kelly began swallowing rapidly to keep up and avoid
choking.  Once he'd emptied the bottle, Master waited a minute or so until
Steve began to relax, murmuring "no, please, no," more quietly and with
less conviction as the moments passed.

Master released his wrist and Steve went down on his hands and knees, his
head hanging.

"OK boy, get up now.  Do as I say."

Steve rose to his feet.

"In case your wondering faggots, that was a solution of scopolamine in that
bottle, mixed with rohypnol.  It works very well for reducing a man to
compliance.  Even though his mind resists this, he knows he's being
humiliated, but is forced to comply.  He won't remember much of this, but,
once he's processed, that won't be important, because he won't be in any
position to resist, even after he gets his will back.  And of course, we'll
have it all on video to 'refresh' his memory.  Get the cam, Aiden."

"Yes sir," Aiden answered and left the foyer, returning shortly with a
small video cam.

Steve stood there, not moving.

"Now, let's get started," Master said.  "OK boy, take your clothes off."


Chapter 28

Steve's face flushed, but he began to strip, unbuttoning his work shirt,
exposing his chest, which had a light covering of blond fur across the
pecs.  A light trail of hair ran down the central valley from his pecs to
his belt.  Dropping his shirt to the floor, he unbuckled his belt, unhooked
his pants, lowered the zipper and dropped his pants to the floor, stepping
out of them.  It would have been a smooth movement, except he still had his
work shoes on, so his pant legs dragged after his feet.  He reached down
and grabbed his pants, pulling them off his shoes, hopping around as he
strove to disentangle himself.  Then he untied his work shoes, pulled them
off and dropped them on the floor and finished by taking his socks off.

"I told your to strip Kelly!  Everything!" Master ordered.

Kelly still had his briefs on, his only covering.  Whimpering slightly, he
hooked his thumbs in the waistband and slid them down his thighs and onto
the floor.  As he stood there naked, his large, thick cock and heavy balls
swung against his thighs.  He had a thick, dark blond, curly bush and his
cock was that pale white that so many blonds have, except that his cock,
like the rest of his body, was flushed with embarrassment.  If I hadn't
been caged, I'm sure my own cock would have been rising, since I'd been
mind-fucked into hungering for cock and would have loved to have had his
spreading my jaws.  But I was also very sure that Steve Kelly would be a
fellow-faggot in very short order and Master had already made it very clear
that faggots do not get to suck other faggots' cocks, or at least not
without permission.

Master circled him, running his hands over Steve's firm thighs, belly and
ass.  He stood in front of him, looking into his face, but Steve's eyes
remained fixed on the floor.  I could see his throat working as he
swallowed his humiliation.  Master took Steve's balls in his hand and
hefted them, causing Kelly to inhale sharply.  Master took Steve's heavy
cock in his hand and rubbed it between his palms.  Steve's legs trembled at
Master's touch.  Master then reached up and grasped his quarter-sized
nipples and squeezed.  Steve gasped.  Then Master pulled upward, raising
Steve to his toes.  His head fell back, his mouth fell open and he groaned
from deep within his chest.

"Please," he gasped.  "Please sir."

"Please what, boy?" Master demanded.  "Do you want me to release you?"

"Yes sir, please."

"Will you do what I tell you, if I release you?"

"Yes sir, anything sir!"

"Good boy.  You are my boy, aren't Steve?"

"Yes sir, I'm your boy.  Anything sir.  Please sir."

"Good."

Master released his grip and Steve sagged to his knees.

"Good," said Master, ruffling Steve's hair.  "That's exactly where you
belong.  Now come with me.  And crawl!  Bring the other two faggots Aiden."

"Yes sir," Aiden answered as Master walked down the hall with Steve
following on hands and knees.

We followed Master into a room on the right side of the hall.  The room was
large, about 18'x36'.  There were mirrors on two of the walls, each facing
the other, creating an illusion of endless repeating spaces.  The wall on
the far end had a large St. Andrew's cross, with eye hooks at each end.
Next to it was a wooden rack with rods parallel to the floor, like you
sometimes see in older gyms.  Lastly, there was a strange-looking bench
that looked like a cross between a work bench and a saddle rack.  There was
black leather padding on the top of the bench and the lower boards on
either side.  On the opposite wall were cabinets and peg boards with
various pieces of bondage and torture equipment hooked on.  I'd seen enough
and been through enough to have an idea what these things might be used
for, or if I couldn't imagine, I definitely knew that they would be used on
us and not for our pleasure.  In one corner of the room was a shower area
with a drain in the floor and a raised, tiled curb to keep the water from
flooding out across the floor.  There was a shower head, a telephone shower
fixture and a metal table with a piston base next to it.

"How do you like it Aiden?  I had this put in especially for my
entertainment.  I call it the "wreck room!"  That's "wreck" with a "W",
Master laughed.

Aiden smiled grimly.  "Yes sir.  Looks like you put a lot of thought into
it."

"Indeed I did.  And Kelly here actually did most of the installation for
me.  Good of him, wasn't it.  He wouldn't even let me pay him for the work!
Not that I offered.  He knew he had a job and that was enough for him.  So
now I'm going to pay him off by having him be the first one to be converted
in it.  And these two fags are going to help him launch it."

Master turned to face Kelly, who remained on his hands and knees.

"Crawl to the shower Kelly!"

Kelly crawled across the floor and over the curb.  He waited on the shower
floor, his head down.

"Get up."

Kelly got up.

"Aiden, let's get the shackles and manacles on him.  Use the leather
cuffs."

"Yes sir," Aiden answered and began fastening the cuffs on.

Aiden picked up Steve's right arm, holding out to the side.  He wrapped a
leather cuff around it and buckled it on.  He repeated the action with
Steve's left arm.  Aiden to a pair of larger cuffs and knelt down at
Steve's feet, pushing them apart.  Steve's cock had been stiff almost from
the start and now it bobbed up and hit Aiden in the eye.  Aiden slapped it
hard and Steve winced.

"Keep that faggot dick under control!" he shouted, but I noticed he
adjusted his pants as he did so.  His tent pole was clearly visible and
Master hadn't missed it either.

When he'd finished, Aiden backed Steve up against the wall from which four
heavy eye bolts protruded.  He fastened the cuffs to the bolts with sturdy
clips, leaving Steve spread-eagle against the wall.

"Strip his hair," Master ordered, "while I call Vinnie."  Master punched a
number into his phone.  "Yeah, we're here? Good.  See you in about 20."

Aiden swallowed hard, realizing that Master was turning him into his
factotum and it was certainly on my mind, and I haven't the least doubt it
was on Aiden's that this might simply be the next step in his own
subjugation and humiliation.

Master pulled a stool over and sat in front of Steve and ordered the
soon-to-be-faggot to look at him.  As Kelly raised his eyes to look at
Master with a pleading expression, Aiden took an electric trimmer and began
with Steve's armpits, zipping the hair away, with clumps of it drifting to
the floor.  Then he shaved through the coating of fur on Steve's chest.
Tears sprang to the workman's eyes and ran down his cheeks.  Aiden took his
treasure trail and finally started on his pubes.  Steve jerked against his
bonds, but there was no way he was getting away.

"Easy boy," Master said quietly.  "You're going to be one of my faggots
very soon.  You want that, don't you boy?"

"Yes sir," Steve said, but there was a look of terror mixed with
humiliation in his eyes.

When Aiden had finished with the clippers, he took a can of shaving foam
and coated Steve's body, using a straight razor to shave away whatever
remnants the trimmer had left.  Using a telephone shower head, he rinsed
the remaining foam off of Steve's body.  The transformation was astounding.
Steve's body shone with the water dripping off of it, making him look like
some sort of merman, I thought.  His nice-sized cock now looked even larger
with the bush that had surrounded it gone.  And the ripcord musculature of
his pecs and abs really stood out.  He was a magnificent specimen indeed.
And I really wanted to suck his cock.  I hung my head; I knew I'd probably
never have an opportunity to suck it and I was ashamed that I'd even
entertained the idea.

"Don't forget the permanent depilatory Aiden," Master commented.

"Of course not sir," Aiden answered, grabbing a squeeze bottle from the
cabinet.

He squirted a generous amount into his hand and rubbed it over Steve's
body, covering him from neck to toes.  Steve's head dropped to his chest
again.

"Get these two fags up there too.  Stand on either side of the new fag and
spread your arms and legs," Master ordered.

Paul and I rose and moved to the places we'd been directed to, spreading
our limbs.  Aiden applied a coating of the fluid to each of us in turn.  I
remembered that Master had used this lotion before, telling us it would,
over a relatively short time, kill off the hair follicles on our bodies,
rendering us permanently smooth, just as faggots were supposed to be.  My
mind raised a quiet protest, but the training was having its effect and I
was beginning to want to be a faggot and to want to please Master,
regardless of what he ordered.

I felt the lotion's burning, killing more of my remaining hair follicles.
I'd already noticed that what hair had begun to grow back in after the last
shaving and application of the depilatory was finer and softer than what
had grown in my furry areas when I was still a man.  The substance was
cooking away whatever might have been left of my manhood.  Even if we
somehow escaped this prison, we would always remain prisoners of our faggot
bodies - smooth, unmanned bodies.

At last, with a nod from Master, Aiden took the shower fixture and rinsed
the lotion off of our bodies, hitting us with cold water that drew
involuntary shouts from all off us as our muscles jerked and pulled,
seeking to get away from the frigid stream.  When they were satisfied,
Aiden turned the water off and Master ordered all three of us to resume our
positions against the wall.  Steve, of course, having been shackled to the
wall, had not been able to change his stance, other than writhing against
the cold.  But Paul and I, who had curled into balls, flattened ourselves
against the wall, still shivering from the cold.

The intercom buzzed and Master went to answer it.  In a few minutes, Master
returned to the room with Vinnie in tow.  Vinnie had a couple of leather
bags with him.  He set them on a counter to the side of the room and began
to take equipment out.  In the meantime, Aiden and Master unhooked Steve's
shackles from the eye-bolts.

"Get up on the table faggots," Master ordered.  "next to one another, on
your hands and knees, facing the wall."

We obeyed as fast as we could.  This left our asses exposed for the next
step.  Having been through this already, I knew what was coming, but I'm
not sure Steve did.  At the same time, I couldn't help but be curious about
the equipment Vinnie was placing on the counter: some of the items I
recognized; others I had no idea what they were for.

The three of us knelt there on our hands and knees, smooth asses exposed
for the men to see.  Master stood behind me and ordered me to push out the
butt-plug filling my rectum.  I lowered my head and bore down, feeling the
hot metal plug moving through my sphincters.  It came out with a plop as
Master held it aloft.  Then he did the same with Paul.  Next, Master took a
metal hose with a smooth tip and lubed it with some liquid soap from a
dispenser next to the table.  He started with Paul, pushing the tip into
his hole.  Then he turned on the tap, massaging Paul's belly.  I could see
Paul's abdomen begin to swell as the water flooded his intestines.  He
began to groan and sweat sprang from his body.

"That's it; good fag.  Just a little more," Master murmured.

When Paul's belly was distended to the point that it resembled a beer
belly, Master turned off the tap and placed one hand on Paul's butt,
holding the hose in his other hand.

"Don't you dare lose a drop of this faggot," Master ordered, slapping
Paul's butt.  Then he pulled the hose out of his hole.  Paul groaned and
put his head down on the table, the grunts from his straining to keep his
sphincters clenched filling the room.  I was next.  I didn't even bother to
keep my arms straight as Master inserted the tip into my hole; I just put
my head down and tried to focus on clenching my ass lips as Master rubbed
my belly, pushing the cleansing fluid into all the nooks and crannies of my
guts.  Like Paul, I began to involuntarily grunt and groan as I strained to
keep every drop inside.

"No, please don't," Steve whimpered, even though his body moved in complete
obedience to every order.  His body might be a faggot's, but his mind
wasn't; at least not yet.  But we all knew his mind would soon follow his
flesh.

Master lubed the hose-tip again and, placing his hand on Steve's back,
pushed it in.  Steve, having never been penetrated before, cried out as his
virgin hole was violated for the first time.  I knew what he was feeling; I
also knew that in a very short time, he would be welcoming that penetration
and, in fact, feeling empty when his ring wasn't spread.  I could see Steve
trembling as the fluid began to fill his gut and, like Paul and me, he
began moaning and grunting as the water flowed into him.  As his belly
began to stretch, he put his head down, just as the other two faggots had
done.  We must've been a pretty sight for Master: Three raised asses, three
lowered heads; a threesome of faggots for his enjoyment and abuse.

To be continued.