This a work of fiction. Keyword--fiction. I don't know anything more about BDSM than what I have read in other peoples fiction. So, this story just emerged from my own imagination. I made everything up. In other words don't take me as an expert on a thing....this is just a story and like my other ones, just a vehicle for the characters.

If you would like to join my group or have any feedback, please email me at: <>
Thanks Juhnaay for pushing me, cajoling me and making me make a group. Thanks Malcolm for caring about the details. And Baruch, for knowing what's important. And especially Bob for being brave.

Part 2


At the time I didn't realize I was still submitting to him. He wanted to know my identity, so I gave it to him. Honestly, until I sat at his computer and the picture of my face appeared I wasn't even aware of what I was doing. He wanted to feel comfortable with his desire for me so I tried to alleviate his disquiet. The guilt over fucking me kept him from loving me, and I had to accommodate that too. Every word, every action was a surrender to his need. I sacrificed everything to give over my trust. I gave over every ounce of personal security to him without hesitation.

I gave myself to him. He bought me, but I became his on the 161st day.

When his hand found the crevice between my butt cheeks I groaned in relief. He was no longer just holding me in comfort. The fingers stroking me weren't casual they were deliberate. He was finding and caressing the tender hole of my ass. Sure strokes designed to open me to his marauding. His tongue pierced rhythmically between my lips and his other hand was clamped firmly on the back of my neck. I was trained to give him pleasure, but I knew for Jon this time needed to be about me. He wanted to give. Needed it.

"I want you." He whispered to me "Let me..."

"Yes, Jon." Why didn't the words upset either of us? This moment was about building trust between us. Gentle, giving, loving trust. Jon's body was twice the mass of mine. But he shook with need. I took his hand and stepped back giving him a lopsided but genuine smile. . "Yes." The big cop followed me to the bedroom. I swallowed my hesitation over using the bed. Last night was the first memory I could recall of being in a bed. And Jon had taken me there.

The wind slapped the rain against the massive glass windows of Jon's condo. The sound of water running and stinging seemed to open my mind. In this life and the last I had never felt desire like this. I wanted Jon. Wanted to feel his touch. Needed it like I needed to breathe. He was powerfully built. His body was hot, the metabolism of his rippling leonine frame. The bed gave little under my weight but when he straddled my waist it dipped creaking. Arching upward my dick bounced against his and he smiled in amusement. "You have an incredibly active dick. I love it." Jon smiled and I saw the light in his eyes. He leaned down, holding himself on his calves not settling his weight fully on my thighs. The weight of him would have hurt me, and nothing told me more clearly that he was not interested in hurting me, even excusably.

With a single raised eyebrow his long calloused fingers curled around the head of my throbbing member. I stared at it. The mushroom head of my dick was wet with pre-cum, slick and dark, his thumb brushed across the slit and wet itself and the sensation was so raw I flinched. Everything he did was vibrant sensation. I gasped. My penis is newly circumcised, and it was done by an expert. I never considered my cock the way I did now.

In Jon's hands.

I watched him and together we observed the response to his caress. He exhaled slowly and his words washed over me like a rush of feeling coming from him and touching me, "The last time I played with another guy's cock I was 13. I hardly looked then, it was just something to do." He was making love to me, this big man. And there was nothing but pleasure and desire on his face when he looked at me. I could have surrendered to fear of corrupting him or some shit. But, something in his awestruck expression stilled my concerns before they formed.

"You can play with mine anytime." I finally groaned when he jacked me gently, once, twice and laughed as I arched into the third.

"You sure?" He slid back on the bed and his knee went between my legs. I opened to him. Honestly, I was well trained and nothing was ever going to change that. I didn't feel self-conscious about my body for the most part. Except for my ass. Why? Because it had been so vigilantly protected. Meant to be something surrendered anxiously to the master. But, with Jon spreading my legs I relaxed. It was as if I really did belong to him and he wanted access. It never occurred to me to be uneasy. I just smiled, happy to have him there.

But, he was surprised. He leaned down, and his rough chin brushed my ball sack where it was almost tight up against my shaft. I am not a big guy, but I have full plum sized nuts that pull up tight easily. Jon's cock is cut, massive and his balls hang low like eggs between his legs. I drool when I think of him. Literally, saliva fills my mouth. But, as he lay between my legs I was riven with need. He teased my balls with his chin, brushing the base of my cock with his nose, exhaling his hot breathe, "Promise me..." he whispered.

"What?" I gasped as his tongue darted out, and I wondered if he learned that from me.

"You will say no if you want to."

"I will never say no, Jon." I promised. Not what he wanted to hear, I know it.

"Micah," He warned.

"Yes, Jon." I smiled.

"God." His lips closed over the head of my dick tasting the semen left there from my earlier orgasm. I came with just his kiss before. Now his hands were moving on my thighs, lifting them over his shoulders and then his fingers were there, where he wanted to go. He loved my ass, even as he teased the head of my cock with his tongue and I gasped out his name in a pleading voice, his fingers found and brushed my hole. His tongue followed suit and I felt a memory at the exact moment he slicked his tongue over the pucker, he did this to me while I slept. A caress of apology. I nearly came. But his fist tightened on my balls restraining me. Saliva poured over me, and he slicked me, penetrating with his tongue, followed quickly by the strong sure thrust of his index finger. I am making sounds, mindless whimpers, and I feel more alive than ever. As if I have waited my entire life for this singular worship. His face thrashes, and the rough sting of his beard primes me and then he lets go.

I must have shrieked because he caught my hands when I would have grabbed him. "Easy, baby. I won't be gone long." And he rose like a lion from the bed. "Don't move."
"Yes, Jon." His eyes darkened with hunger and his dick looked like a weapon, purple and red and pulsing hard between his legs. God, I wanted it. Maybe in this way my captors had intended me to want it. But, Jon wasn't the master I had been trained for. He was the lover I dreamed of. Just as wrong maybe, my hero worship, but even now, a year later I still dream of him and this afternoon. I watched his butt as he walked away, glued to the sight of his muscled ass flexing in the dim light. I wanted to return to him what he gave to me and I sensed that might be a long ways off for him.

He returned with a bottle of lube. It was in the bathroom of all places. I recall, oddly, being sixteen and staring at the ingredients in a variety of lubricants and wondering if I should bother buying any because I was about to go on a date with my friend. I didn't. And nothing happened.

The engorged phallus of my lover arrived before him. Seriously, my eyes couldn't stay off of his love pole. It was vulgar and beautiful. My lips parted and I licked them nervously. He smiled. "Do you want it?" He asked, and this time he meant the question. He spoke it warmly, a teasing smile on his lips.

"God, yes." I answered with difficulty.

"How can you not hate me, Micah?" He asked softly as he lay down beside me, pulling me against him. I rolled onto him, pushing him back onto the bed. He allowed me this and had no idea how profound it was that he allowed me so many liberties. I was free, felt it. The two months I was still imagining I had spent in captivity were actually 160 days. It was July 27th and I was so oblivious. Every free touch he gave me, every gentle glance, every time I said "I" was a celebration for me. How could I answer his question? I sat up slowly and looked down at him, despite his arousal his eyes were tired; dark circles haunted them. His golden hair was damp with sweat; it was warm and humid in the room.

"How can I not love you, Jon?" I answered and leaned over to kiss him. It was the wrong answer and he tensed but my kiss distracted him long enough. He took over the kiss and we lay a long time, teasing one another, my body stroking his until he shook. Finally, finally he rolled me back onto my back and went between my legs. He was shaking, his hands lifting my legs and his expression was tortured.

"I want you." He growled.

"Yes." I answered and reached for him. He shoved my hands away, and then slicked his fingers with the lube, I was surprised by the strawberry smell and he almost laughed through his groan.

It was there that I realized there was a woman. A woman in his life. It hurt. That expression must have been on my face that heartache when he began to enter me with his fingers. Between us lay a gulf that was only crossed between our bodies. He popped one long finger inside me, and began the rhythmic stroking that seemed to coincide with the smashing of my heart in my chest. My bottom surged towards him until he began the second fingers journey and I gasped out his name, panting it over and over in time with the in stroke of his finger fucking thrusts.

The sheets literally bunched under my hips as he reached up and took a pillow, stuffing it under me, my knees fell back on my chest and he said my name. "Micah?"

"Jon." I reached out and he leaned into my hand, I brushed my fingers over his face, "Please!"

"God, yes!" And he took me. In many ways it was like the first time. Painful, but also exhilarating and it was emotional, tender. Intense. His cock head slid past my ring with an almost audible pop, and I flinched in pain, my eyes tearing. Hips tightening he struggled to hold still, fought the primal urge to thrust. I panted, my skin slick with sweat. A pool of it was forming around us on the bed as we both warmed in the gloom of the stormy day. He thrust forward and I groaned pushing back, "That's it, baby. You can take it..." The words poured out of him, like last night, but this time with feeling and an intensity that told me he was right there with me because he WANTED me.

"More..." I begged and he pulled back, then thrust. OH MY GOD it hurt. Really, no way around it despite the fact that my body had been thoroughly prepared for him just 24 hours ago and I wanted it, and was an expert at enduring pain. But his cock is thick, fatter than I can circle with my fingers and my ass is a tight ring. He paused as I fought to adjust. His hands stroking my shaking thighs, his thumbs traveled low and one came up under my balls, stroking in tender circles. The flush of feeling washed up over my bunched abdomen and deepened my blush. I felt my body loosen and he sank deeper, suddenly hot but not burning. The difference transmitted to him via the expression of wonder on my face. He smiled darkly and pushed, and I felt the brush of his balls against the soft globes of my ass. My body arched involuntarily, my toes curling as his rod brushed against my prostate on the way out.

He locked his hands behind me knees and pulled out to the head only to begin an immediate push back in to the hilt. "Yeah..." he groaned and repeated the motion until I was thrusting back at him when he sank into me. "God..." His pelvis rocked and he squeezed his hands ruthlessly and slammed hard, I jerked under him, my eyes flying open. There was discomfort, but something else. Knowledge. He had me, I was his. A lance of fear traced up my spine but he just smiled and kept thrusting, slow deep thrusts. Between us lay awareness. "Hello, little man." He said low in his throat, a voice from the darkest part of his soul.
"Yes, Jon." I breathed. Nothing changed, yet everything. In him was born the man made to own me. And in me the awareness that no matter how I got here, there was nowhere else I longed to be.

The change in him was electric, he leaned forward and pinned me beneath his thrusting hips, the stroke of his powerful cock smacking into me with a loud suction, consuming me from inside out. He growled his fist closing on my cock when my nuts drew upward, stopping my orgasm. "Do you want to cum, little man?" He asked roughly.

"Yes, Jon." I begged.

"Say it." He ordered, and his dark eyes were piercing, his lips curled in a demanding snarl.

"Please, Jon, let me cum!" I wailed, bucking beneath his driving hips. "Please, Jon!"

His cock lodged deep inside me and his fist relaxed pushing down and up and the rush of his orgasm stung my hole, washing me in his fire and my own erupted like a fucking volcano of seed, splashing my stomach, my upturned thighs, his forearms. He didn't lose control, instead he kept his eyes on mine, and stroking my dick until the last spasms finished and I flinched. He instantly stopped, tilting his head.

We both knew what had happened. Both understood the ramifications for him and me. Tears leaked from my eyes. He didn't say it but he was thinking it. There was no way for this to be real. I couldn't stop the sob. And he pulled free, leaning down he pulled me into his arms and said my name, softly, reverently. We lay there until the rain stopped and the hot summer sun broke the clouds.

I showered again. And when I emerged a woman was there, some doctor. She had clothes for me. Jon's eyes avoided mine. My skin ached where the denim and cotton abraded me. Jon slid away from me, and darkness invaded my being. It was like I was walking away from the light in a corridor. I was slipping away from myself rather than to myself. It took a bit, but I was already in the dark, only the light was fading. It doesn't matter why or how. It doesn't matter if there is madness to it. Or if it is wrong. Jon Cooper is the light of my being and without him I am empty.

The next days passed in a blur. They took me to the station, where Jon told how he was selling drugs, on his own undercover assignment and stumbled across the brothel, and then across the commodity he had thought was drugs, but ended up being me. It was that or know that I would never survive the next stage. Left out was our sexual involvement other than the initial buy stage before he was forced to fuck me. Although I am fairly certain Greta guessed there was more between us than either of us admitted to. I worked hard not to vigorously deny it. I merely shrugged at her blankly when she tried to ask anything that remotely leads down the road to anything like that.

But, then I just had to help tell the story. The first few hours they left me in the captains office as the precinct shrink, Greta, and the agents from the local Bureau reviewed my situation. I flipped open the captains laptop. Took only a few minutes to hack first the department's network, and then from there the servers at Quantico, and then...into the Ring. The squad room grew quiet, like deathly as I from my comfy aged leather seat in the captains cushy view office, snapped on computers screens from here to Washington DC. The internal Ring cameras popped up, picture in picture. The files, the asset numbers. Locations, names, ages. Account numbers. The silence erupted into shock and dismay. The horror of the video links. The live web cams to the breaking chambers. Over 250 files, some 120 or so in the pipeline currently. Each file representing an asset. A slave. Not a huge operation, but a very specialized efficient one. None of the web feeds were sold, these were internal for the operations only. Six locations in the USA. The final one was where I had been taken. I don't even recall being moved. There was another child there, a young girl, maybe twelve if that. Her buyer was hours away from fucking her home.

Why did I do it? Because if I waited for the Bureau that girl would be sold, dead and her bones bare before they moved. There were 120 lives at stake. The impetus to utilize the existing law enforcement teams was something I had forced their hands on. Sure a few perps would slip through the cracks, but the existing children could be saved.

The office door slammed open and Director French from the DC office, his face red and his eyes fuming, screeched my name. "LFANI!" I smiled.

"I think I'd like a job in the fucking mail room, sir." I said with all due seriousness. And really there wasn't much more serious I could be.


"How about the computer crimes division?" I taunted.

Behind him a voice said, "You are the fucking computer crimes division." The sardonic smile of Hayden Moorhead relaxed me. My handler. His expression was pained. He was nearing retirement. But a craftier fellow never lived. My eyes teared up. Not sure what happened after that. Everything went dark.

It was weeks, maybe months before I could be weaned off the anti psychotics. I went a little haywire. Okay, maybe a lot. I never spoke of my intimacy with Jon. He bought me, play acted interest in me and took me home. As far as everyone was concerned I told him I was an FBI informant and he told me he was a cop. Everything between us from that point forward was in order for us both to get out alive.

I woke up not missing Jon one day in the fall. But, I didn't realize it for a few days. My counselor had only been willing to tell me that Jon had weathered the shitstorm of his involvement and been promoted to lead detective in the major crimes unit in Seattle. That was the beginning of my survival. I was released from the institution on Christmas Eve, and I went home to my parents for the holiday. But, it was surreal. I put on my new roller blades and skated over to the park. Met a couple of young guys, bummed a smoke and talked music and fantasized about going back to college. In between hanging out, and drinking casually at illicit parties I was forced to face the prosecutions.

Working with Lorna Staiber at the Federal Prosecutors Office, we convicted 11 of the nineteen defendants without trials. The final one, for Morius Galfonico, the snake, wasn't set til later the next summer. That was the one I would be on the stand for. The mastermind. Eleven children had died in training in the 22 weeks I spent in the ring.

Hayden convinced the director that I had paid my dues, and I was let go. Let go. Fired? I dunno. He made me give my word I wouldn't hack any more government computers. Let go of my hobby and I did. Just looking at a computer screen makes my stomach knot. You'd think I'd resent the restriction. But nah, the only toy I kept was my x-box. I don't even have a cell phone of my own. My step dad loans me his. It is two years old and squeaks when you flip it open.

On my nineteenth birthday I went to the Market and got a tattoo. I am not sure if it was wise, but I had a barcode design with the number 1617272006 put on my wrist. What is it you ask? Day 161, July 27th 2006. I may never see him again, although I am pretty sure I will see him in the summer at the trial, but nothing changed in the past year.

But, I rarely got off of my own volition. I woke wet with cum every few days, my body deciding for me when it needed release. But, if I jacked myself it was always to thoughts of him. Hopefully some one will come along that triggers desire in me. But so far it feels like it might be too soon. Because Jon still has a staring role in my pornographic fantasies. And I have a hard time feeling bad about that.

Despite the fact that I was living in Seattle, only about six miles from his condo, I never rode my bike by. I never sought him out. Maybe that was residual slave behavior. Was I waiting for him to call me to him? Maybe. But, I think I actually just have some sense of self-preservation. I am actually afraid to run into him.