Date: Thu, 4 Jan 2024 14:53:28 -0500
From: Robert Halstead <subkodak25@gmail.com>
Subject: Breaking Me In 2

BREAKING ME IN

Chapter 2

When I told my father I'd been invited by a new friend for a weekend visit,
he was delighted. It had always concerned him that I was such a loner. It
was a relief to find out that I'd made a friend, a friend who thought so
much of me that he'd invite me to spend a weekend with him. And so, as I
said my goodbye to Dad on Friday morning, he wished me well and sent me off
with his blessing.

I crammed my clothing into my backpack and only took the notebook I needed
for my two Friday classes, and the novel I had to read for my English lit
course which, as it turned out, was entitled "Of Human Bondage" by
Maugham. Prophetic title, to be sure, although I wasn't yet aware of just
how appropriate it would be.

The day dragged on. A number of times I almost chickened out, but as I
walked around campus and realized just how many of my fellow male students
were so attractive to me, I knew I had to do something to bring my gay
virginity to an end. The vision of Bobby's perfectly shaped cock being
waved before me in the shower had engraved itself in my mind and I found
myself wondering if any of the hot guys I passed along the way would have
cocks as scrumptious as Bobby's. I planned to find out after I'd popped my
cocksucker cherry over the weekend, especially now that I realized I could
just walk into the gym and take a shower when other guys were parading
around naked as well. I was determined to become a cock-hungry pervert and
hopefully could get established as a campus cocksucker for guys who didn't
care if a dude sucked them off.

 Finally, it was time. I got to Orson Hall ten minutes early and kept my
eyes on the driveway, looking for the black limo. Only then did it occur to
me that I was being picked up in a limo and how unusual that was. Was Bobby
wealthy? Was he unable to drive? Why didn't he ask me to bring him home in
my own car? So many questions as the bubbles in my tummy vibrated through
my blood stream. At last the limo arrived. It stopped before me and the
back door was thrown open. "Get in," commanded Bobby. I got in carrying my
backpack. Bobby helped me get it off my shoulders and tossed it into the
front seat while the two of us sat together in the back. I was having
trouble breathing. Bobby pressed a button and the privacy screen between
the back seat and the driver went up.

"You're nervous," noted Bobby. "Slow down your breathing. Match with
me. . . . slower . . . " We sat there and it really did help me calm down
to match my breath to Bobby's. "Wow," he says to me, "you look
vulnerable. Cute. Hopeful. That is good. And don't worry, the chauffeur
won't be able to hear anything."

I wasn't sure why but didn't want to seem like I was disagreeing, so all I
did was nod my head. "Nothing is going to happen that you're not ready
for. Nothing is going to happen that you don't need. Right now, you don't
really even know what you truly need, but I do. It's my job to take you
where you need to go." Bobby held out his hands. "I'd like you to place
yourself into my hands," he said to me, gesturing with his fingers until at
last I took my sweaty palms and placed them into Bobby's hands. He held
them briefly and then let go. "I'm not surprised that your hands are wet.
This is a very new experience for you and it seems like you're somewhat
uneasy about having to face the unknown. Here: let me help increase your
eagerness to be here with me."

I couldn't believe what happened. He pulled down his zipper and fiddled
inside his pants and exposed the crown of his dick—just the crown, for
me to see. "This is what you're here for, isn't it, boy?"

"Yes, Sir, it is." Damn! Again, I said Sir. "Give it a good look. Tell me
you're a faggot and you're hungry for my dick."

This is difficult to admit even though we're both well aware of what I'm
here for. "Um...I'm a faggot and I'm hungry for your dick, Bobby. I want it
so much."

"Then you're in luck, faggot. You'll be serving my meat with your mouth and
tongue all the time this weekend, and I bet you'll l never get tired of
it. You'll always want to beg for more. Don't be shy, now, boy. Feast your
eyes on the head of my dick. I'm bringing you home with me to serve it. To
enjoy it. To taste it. To give it pleasure." As he said that to me, a drop
of liquid appeared at the slit of his dick. He took a finger and wiped it
up then held out his finger and slowly moved it towards my lips, his
beautiful eyes fixed on me with a hypnotic glare. "Take your first taste,"
he commanded. I took the tip of his finger into my mouth and licked it
clean.

"Good boy."

What was it about those two simple words that affected me so strongly?
Pleasure flowed through my body that was so pervasive that there was no
energy left for me to realize that I'd just done something that some people
would think disgusting.

"More liquid appeared. Again Bobby wiped it up and extended his finger.
This time I deliberately moved my mouth towards his finger to clean it
off. "Eager. That pleases me. By the way, this is what is called pre-cum.
The fact that it's leaking from my dick is an indication that I'm turned on
right now, turned on by your presence, your eagerness, your obedience and
your willingness to taste me in a way that you've never ever tasted another
man before. Here. Have another taste before I put my dick back in my
pants." This time he used three fingers to clean off the leaky head of his
cock.  As soon as he raised his hand towards me I eagerly took all three
fingers into my mouth and sucked them clean. "Suck the fingers now.
Practice for sucking cock later," he commanded, and I took them in a little
bit. "More," he commanded. "Take them more deeply into your mouth."  I did
my best, but Bobby seemed to get a bit impatient and actually started
gently fucking my mouth with those three fingers. "That's right, faggot.
Open up, baby. Be like my baby sucking a tit. Fuck your mouth on my
fingers." Damn. He called me `faggot'. Did that mean he's straight?

He kept fucking my mouth with those fingers, deeper and deeper until I
started to gag a bit. He immediately withdrew his fingers and lightly
slapped me across the face with them, then dried them in my hair. "You're
doing fine, just fine, boy. You're gonna make an excellent cock-sucker,"
Bobby said, as he let the head of his cock slip back into his pants and
zipped up again. I was so disappointed to see it disappear that I
groaned. "I like the sound you make when you're gagging on my fingers. I
bet it'll be even sexier when you're gagging on my cock. You wanna gag on
my cock, boy?" I blushed and shook my head yes.

"Tell me that you want to suck my cock. I want to hear you say it," he
commanded. I never said anything like that before and it was hard to get
the words out. "I wanna suck you," I mumbled. "What's that, boy?" "I said I
wanna suck your dick, Bobby." "A little louder," he said, smacking my face
harder now. "I want to suck your cock, Bobby. Please let me suck your cock
soon," I added, hoping it would please him to hear me humiliate myself like
that.

His voice changed to a more conversational tone and as he spoke to me I
realize that up until now he'd been speaking in a commanding voice. That
was the only voice I'd heard from him until now. The change in tone helped
me relax.

"The ride home will be about twenty minutes, so we've got some time to chat
a bit. I have my own private chambers at home and we will not be disturbed.
I'm not going to introduce you to my parents this time around. They prefer
to only meet boys I establish some kind of rapport with. You and I will be
alone all weekend. Meals will be provided in my private dining room which
is shut off from the rest of my quarters, so the servants who set up our
meals will not be able to hear what we'll be doing."

Servants? Wow. This guy must really be wealthy. Bobby must have read my
mind because he immediately said to me, "We are quite wealthy. I hope that
won't make things difficult for you. I know you're not well off. That's
doesn't matter to me. I like it that you're a poor boy. That way I can own
you without having to spend a fortune buying you from your father. In fact,
I bet he'll really like getting well paid for you. It will solve a lot of
problems for him and also rid him of any need to bother with you any
longer. I bet he'd be glad to get rid of you, to have his own freedom."

I told him I wasn't sure about that but he told me not to worry about it,
that he would take care of things when the time is right. I'm kind of
skeptical about all this. Dad and I have a good relationship. I don't think
he's tired of me or feel over-burdened. I can't imagine he'd actually sell
me like a piece of property. Bobby is making assumptions that I don't think
are accurate. I guess we'll just have to see. I just let Bobby keep talking
without objecting to anything he has to say.  "Your Dad doesn't really like
you very much. That's not your fault at all; it's his problem. He'll be
missing out on something special: your love for him was never great
anyway—now it can all be transferred to me because I'm planning to own
you. To enslave you. All mine. You'll exist for my pleasure, and when I'm
feeling pleasure you'll be satisfying your purpose in life. The poor waif
gets enslave by the rich boy and the slave's never had it so good before,
even though you'll be trained under my lash. You'll learn to take the
pain. It's good for a faggot like you. Helps you understand what you're
becoming. I assure you, boy, I'm not going to spoil you in any way. I
intend to train you, to ruin you, to turn you into a committed submissive
so I can share your mouth and ass with my friends whenever I want. I intend
to teach you your place with reference to me. I intend to train you to find
your greatest satisfaction in pleasing me, in serving my cock, in sucking
every cock I order you to suck so you can make me look powerful in the eyes
of my friends.  In time, in fact, you'll get your joy by serving my entire
body."

A couple things were going through my mind. First, that he never asked for
or uses my name. "Boy" seems to be what he's settled on. That's fine. It
helps me feel more submissive. The financial situation isn't a bother
either, at least not yet. I'm not sure what he meant by "owning me or
ruining you," but I'll hold off on that for now. The biggest question on my
mind, and the most surprising thing to hear, is that he said I will get
pleasure by giving him pleasure. Then he said something which confused me
and made me worry. "You'll have to pay me to give you my cock."

"I can't to pay for anything, Bobby. Some days I can hardly buy lunch. My
resources are limited. I'm sorry." I figured he would order the car to turn
around at this point, but instead, he chuckled a bit. "Money isn't at
issue. There are other ways to pay. You will indeed have to pay for access
to my dick. I'll get what I want out of you, don't worry. And I'm sure
you'll end up eating a lot better without having to pinch any pennies. He
reaches out and slaps me across the face with a good substantial slap and I
jerk up, shocked. "Very simple indeed, boy. You got to see the head of my
dick. You tasted my pre-cum. You licked my fingers clean and felt them fuck
your mouth. And now, you've paid the price. A simple price, I'd say. Just a
light slap. Wouldn't you agree, boy?"

"I . . I guess so, Sir."

"Would you like for me to have my chauffeur bring you back to campus now?"

"No, Sir, please no."

"Consider, then, the fact that I'll be slapping you around when I want.
It's the best way to get your attention. As far as I'm concerned, it's a
suitable form of payment. It helps you realize that we are not equals. And,
I suspect, the more you think about it the easier you'll find it to accept
it. Am I not correct, boy?"

I closed my eyes and thought for a while. how did it make me feel when he
slapped me, after the initial burst of anger? I guess I'd have to say it
was okay. Actually, it felt good. The "idea" that he could slap me when he
wanted to did indeed help me realize I am inferior to him. That thought is
actually turning me on a little. My cock was hard as a rock. He could see
it. He ran his fingers over it and chuckled. "Not nearly as big or as nice
as mine, isn't it?"

"No, Sir."

"That's just another sign of how we are not equals, that you are inferior
to me. But don't let that worry you, boy. I will love you because you are
inferior to me, because I can give you pain to help you realize what you
are. Understand, boy?"

I'm a little frightened by what he tells me, and yet my cock stays hard and
is leaking into my underpants. "Things are starting to make sense, Sir." He
slaps my hardon and then laughs. "See? That little cock isn't made for
pleasure. It's a toy for me to enjoy. The only cock that really matters in
our relationship is the one between my legs, the one that you lust after
like the faggot cocksucker you're meant to become. And it will be our
secret. Back at school, no one will know that you take my dick and I slap
you around all the time. No one will know that you're my cocksucker, that
I'm training you to give pleasure to my cock. Are you willing to learn how
to be my cocksucker, boy?"

"Yes, Bobby. Please?"

"Excellent. I'm pleased. Now tell me some things about yourself, your
family, background, interests, things like that. Take your time."

And so I started talking. I started with my mother's death ("condolences")
and my somewhat distant relationship with my father. At this, he grunted
and said, "it all fits." I didn't understand what he meant. "When did you
realize you were queer?" he asked. "The kids in my class were calling me
"queer' before they ever knew what it meant. But at summer camp when I was
10, we boys would experiment with our hardons. Eventually I became the
go-to boy for hand jobs. "How did they treat you?" "Like I was a hero. They
were all very good to me. I used to sign up to go fishing in the
afternoons, and the guys who wanted me to jerk them off also signed up.
There were plenty of places along the creek where we fished to go deeper
into the woods to a safe spot where they'd whip out their cocks and I'd
take care of them. A couple of them would make me kneel. One of the black
guys used to make me pull down my pants and he'd rub my ass while I jerked
off his big black dick. He kept asking me if he could put it up my ass, but
I always said no."

"You're lucky you didn't get raped. But continue telling about your queer
development, and it seems like you were also already turning into a
submissive."

"Well, I remember this counselor who I had a big crush on. One night he
came to my cabin and woke me up waving his hard-on over my head and wanted
some attention. I reluctantly did so, and have always regretted that I
really didn't get into it and use both hands and maybe even my mouth to
give him the best service ever. But I didn't, and he soon got tired of what
I was doing, put his cock away, and never asked me again. Looking back, now
I realize that I really didn't please him much because if I had he would
have been back every night." "Do you still regret disappointing him?"

"More like disappointing myself. I wish I had taken his cock in my mouth
but I guess it wasn't time yet. I was only 12." "It sounds like you still
feel guilty for not being good enough for him."

"That's right, Sir. All the time."

"Well the best thing for a guilty boy like you is a good thrashing, and
I'll take care of that soon enough. Maybe we'll even send him a picture of
what you look like with welts all over your back and ass. Yeah, boy, I know
what you need to help you make up for your selfishness to him: A damn good
thrashing with a thick black belt until you're shedding tears and sobbing.
You'd be amazed at how much good something like that can do to a guilty
boy.  " I chose not to react to that remark. How naïve I was! At the
time I never realized that one of Bobby's greatest fantasies was to whip
the daylights out of me with his thick black belt. Never would I have
dreamed what was in the cards for me. Anyway, I started talking about high
school but it seemed like Bobby had lost interest once he found out that I
was such a coward that I remained a total virgin all through high school
and never got to enjoy anyone's cock despite the fact that I'd attended a
boys' school and was watching all my classmates enter and move through
puberty.

 "Didn't you like peeking at them in the showers like the faggot you are?"
he asked. For some strange reason I didn't take offense when he was calling
me `queer' and `faggot' like I usually did. In fact, for some reason, it
made me feel good, deep down inside.

"We didn't have gym or showers in that school," I told him. "So you never
got to see your buddies' pubic hair grow in?" "Nope. And mine grew in later
than everyone else. I found that out in summer camp because we'd all get
naked together sometimes and they'd laugh at me because I was still
hairless."

"Hairless", he said, smacking my dick a little. "Good idea. I think I'll
make you hairless again. So you'll look like the boy and I'm the man in
charge." I just shut up.

"Anything else? Any time you ever jerked off with anyone?" "Oh yes. In 10th
grade. My buddy and I used to sleep in a sofa bed together and we'd jerk
off every night. That was the first time I ever got to see a hard dick. It
was the same size as mine, so that was cool." "Didn't you two try jerking
each other off?" "Once we did, but only for less than half a minute. We
didn't like it." "Curious," he says. "I'm surprised you didn't beg to blow
him." "He was straight, I answered, and I was still afraid to let anyone
know I was a queer."

"Such a little coward you were, boy. I guess I should count myself lucky
that you haven't chickened out with me. I half expected you not to be there
when we came to pick you up."

"What would have happened if I did chicken out." "Nothing. Absolutely
nothing. We would have been through before we ever got started. I don't
fuck around. I'll let you know this right now, boy: the first time you ever
chicken out with me means we're through forever. No second chances. Do you
understand what I'm telling you, boy?" "Yes, Sir." I was very confused
about this. I couldn't possibly imagine why I'd ever think of chickening
out. What was there to be afraid of? Another thing, too: again I realized
that he never used my name but always called me `boy' and eventually
`faggot' and couple times even `slave,' but I didn't notice this this at
the time.

"So tell me this: there are several bathrooms on campus where guys
sometimes hang out in order to find others to play with. Have you
discovered any of those places?" "Yes, Sir. The Library. Outside the
newspaper office. Basement of the music building." "How much time have you
spent hanging out in those places?" "Too much time, to tell the truth. And
nothing ever came of it."

"Poor baby. So there you were, trying to pay attention to your studies but
constantly distracted by this gnawing emptiness inside that could only be
filled up by contact with another guy's cock, and you spent time hunting
for it but had no luck. Meanwhile you started staring with this hot guy in
your history class and probably had to stop yourself from drooling. And I
was aware of it a lot sooner than you realized. I was just waiting until I
sensed that your faggot hunger was driving you out of your mind. So I took
pity on you and decided to take you `under my arm,' literally, as you
know. And now you've had lots of chances to stare close up to my cock for
as long as you wanted, and soon you are going to put it in your mouth and
then do everything I tell you to do until finally I cum in your mouth and
you're going to swallow it down, all of it. If you spill any of my cum,
you'll be punished. Understand, faggot?"  "Yes, Sir." I suddenly realized
that Bobby just let me know that he'd be punishing me if I displeased him."
For some reason that turned me on even more.

"Good boy. Now don't forget what I told you: I give you cock. You pay with
pain. That's the deal." The way he said that made me tremble, not from
fear, but actually from desire. And I remembered what he said earlier about
how a good thrashing with a thick leather belt can do some boys a lot of
good. And I was hoping to find out if that's really true.  Shit. What was
going on here?

We pulled up to a monstrous house, larger than anything I'd ever seen
before. Bobby lowered the screen and thanked the chauffeur and told him he
could leave the two of us alone back here. Then he reached into the front
seat for my backpack and put it on the seat between us and opened it
up. "Take off your shoes and socks and put them in here. I want you
barefoot from here on in." I said nothing, but just did what he told me
to. He took them from me and managed to squeeze them into the backpack. So
I sat there in the back of the limo, barefoot and for some reason, I felt
it was only appropriate that I not be allowed anything on my feet; only he
could keep his footgear.

He slapped me on the thigh, not too hard, and told me to get out of the car
and take out my backpack and put it on. So I did. He followed and shut the
door. "The entrance to my quarters is around the back of the house. Come."
Much to my dismay, I discovered that the path leading to his quarters was
not paved, but rather made of small stones which made walking barefoot
rather unpleasant. A couple times Bobby looked down at my feet, it seemed,
and chuckled. "Consider what I'm teaching you," he said to me, but it was
only later that I realized what he meant. All I knew is that it hurt a bit
to walk this path and he wasn't slowing down to make it any easier for
me. I figured that one thing he was teaching me was that he was serious
about pain and that he wasn't about to make anything easy for me. But why?
And why was this stirring up something dark in my gut. Damn, I said to
myself, if I'm going to hurt for anyone at all it would most definitely be
for this boy.

***

 (To reader: I have a pic of what I want Bobby to look like f you want to
it, just ask).

Please write me and let me know what you think of this new story.
subkodak25@gmail.com

Here are the other stories I have posted, in order:

The Alex Chronicles
Sweet Subjugation
Brandon's Bosses
Brandon's Brothers
Total Subjugation
Tommy Loves His Sub
Training Toby
Breaking me in

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contributions help keeping this wonderful site alive.

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Rob