Date: Fri, 26 Jun 2015 19:52:46 +0000 From: white collar 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.