Date: Thu, 22 Apr 2021 16:04:55 +0000 (UTC)
From: ropingtop@aol.com
Subject: Robert Michaels'   journey to submission - installment 2

Police work  suited Bob.  Ha had placed in the top quarter of his class,
and  he had excelled in the training and examinations that involved
physical prowess:  one thing he always carried with him from his MMA
days: the importance of physical fitness.  He exercised every day, got a
run in at some point, usually in one of the more secluded sections of the
park near his house, and got on with his life.    Things were looking
up:  it seemed he even might have a boyfriend.

His mom had had several colorful expressions.  One was  "Don't shit where
you eat,"  and Bob, especially after his heart was broken by Dragon,
"looked but didn't touch"  at the precinct.  Yeah, he got checked out, by
more than one guy, and sometimes he looked back.  No one really caught
his fancy, so this was all ok.

That all changed the day he had to testify in a case where the defendant
asserted there had been brutality during his arrest.  Bob hadn't made the
arrest, but he had been a witness.  As he sat in the jury chair, in his
short sleeve blue shirt, the striped tie (one of three he owned), and his
jacket (purchased just before the trial), he thought the Assistant DA, a
guy named Justin Phillips, was smiling at him.  Bob could live with
that:  Justin was about 6'4", had a shaved head and a smooth face,
piercing eyes, and while Bob couldn't tell, he had the feeling he had a
hairy body covered with tattoos .
When Phillips began his questioning, Bob thought, right away, that he was
being ordered around by some Dom slave Master. His voice was deep:
steady, and commanding.  While he was testifying, Bob looked down because
he guessed, correctly, that he was showing wood.  He'd have to get it
down by the time he left the witness chair.  He didn't completely
succeed, and he saw Phillips smile, and place his body between Bob and
the jury so that no one saw, as he went back to his seat.

At the end of the trial, Justin came up to him.  He was smiling even
more.
"First time to testify rookie?"  Bob was tall, but he had to look up to
Justin.
"Yes sir.  Did I do okay?"  Justin laughed a little.
"You did so ok I'd like to take you out to lunch.  Rookies get cherries
popped in the first year.  I'm glad I can say I was one who popped one of
yours."
And the wood was back.
 Justin took him to a nearby Italian restaurant, very busy with the court
and police crowd.  Justin knew a bunch of the other ADAs and they greeted
him.  He exaggerated and introduced Bob as  "The police officer who saved
my ass today,"  as Bob thought
"Then take mine tonight."
"Can I ask how long you've been a lawyer, Sir?"
Justin laughed.  "In public Bob, no one calls me Sir."  Then he dropped
his voice.  "It's a different story at night.  Then  they call me
bitch."
He saw Bob's face fall and he laughed.
"GEEZ.  YOU SURE ARE A ROOKIE.  YOU FELL FOR THAT ALL THE WAY."
Bob laughed uneasily.
"So, in private they call you Sir?"
"You got it. Sometimes in public too.  Depending on the place."
Bob blushed.  "Wow.  I used to have a Sir."
"I bet you did.  You might have another one if you're interested,
officer?"
Bob laughed now.  "You don't mince words or waste time... Sir."
"Life's too short.  Tell you what?" Justin pulled out a business card,
and wrote down his private number.  "Think about it.  Call me."  He got
up and leaned over Bob, kissing him on the forehead.
"Finish  your chicken.  " He turned and smiled.  "Oh, and by the way,
you're not a good sneak. All you had to do is ask.  Hairy? Yup, like a
bear.  Tats?  Head to foot.  Some in places you wouldn't think of.
You'll find out."
As he left, Bob was wondering if he could make it to the end of his shift
without jerking off.  He didn't.  And then he did again when he got
home.  And a third time that night, when he dreamed about Justin on top
of him, pulling his legs in the air, and shoving a tattooed cock up his
ass.

Bob never got to call Justin because of what happened in the next few
days.   While he wasn't working on the case,  Bob was very much aware of
an investigation going on.  Over the course of 2-3 months,  six guys had
disappeared.  All were in their late 20s- early 40s,  single, fairly well
off, and , at least to Bob's eye, good looking.  None were his type, but
he could imagine that any of them would turn the eye of an interested
man.  They all went to gyms.  Three went to the same gym, and the other
three went to gyms in a five block radius.  Two of the guys were
straight, and two were a couple.  There didn't seem to be anything
linking them.  One was Asian, one was a man of color, the couple were
white,  and so on.  Nor was there a pattern to their disappearances,
timewise:  of course, the disappearances had to be reported, but based on
report dates,  the second guy disappeared three weeks after the first
one, then the couple disappeared two weeks later, and then the three guys
all disappeared on the same day, only a week later.    When the seventh
guy disappeared,  the story was on the front page of the paper.  Bob saw
it when he picked up his copy from his front door.  (He was old school
that way: Bob liked the feel of a newspaper.  He hated reading the paper
on line).  When he opened the fold, to the story of the disappearance, he
saw that someone had written, in big black magic marker on the story:

"YOU'RE NEXT"

Bob treated it as a joke:  from what they knew about the victims, they
were all essentially white collar professionals, no connection to law
enforcement, or anything like that.  They were all markedly smaller than
Bob too:  in good shape, but not built the way he was.  In fact, the
story made him think about his own muscles, and he flexed his bicep for
himself.  He smiled, thinking of Justin, and whether Justin's biceps,
which were nearly bursting out of his suit, could hold him in place if he
resisted.
As he felt morning wood rise,  Bob decided he had just enough time to get
himself off, and then take a run before work.  He lived far enough in the
country that no one would hear him howl when he jerked.  After he
finished, and cleaned up enough that his shorts didn't stick to his
crotch, he put on his sneakers and the shorts, and headed out.   He
decided to go for five miles that day.

Bob had a very ordered running route: he wasn't a guy who wanted a new
trail, a new experience, every day.  So he took the route he always did
for a five miler.  It was still warm, so he tucked a tank into the side
of his shorts, grabbed a bottle of water, and headed out.  The air was
crisp, and he felt good.  The track was somewhat challenging, because the
ground wasn't even, and avoiding the potholes was a must.  He had run
this path so often, he thought he knew every last hole.
That day, something surprised him.  As he ran, he felt something like a
vine grip his left ankle, and pull back.  He went sprawling:  the water
bottle went flying, and he came down pretty hard.
"FUCK."  he yelled.  What the hell could that have been?  He felt his
face for blood, didn't find any, but he was probably gonna be bruised.
Then he tried to move, and found that, with the exception of whatever
that was around his ankle, he was fine.  He was about to reach down to
get it off, when he heard the voice.

"Ha ha.  Got to set the traps out every day. Ya never know what you're
gonna catch.  Got lucky today, that's for sure."  There was a wiry,
bearded guy standing over him.
"Hey man.  Thanks.  I didn't see that vine.  Got something to cut it."
"Ha ha," the voice answered.  "Cutting rope is not something you need to
worry about boy.."  Bob couldn't turn around very well, but he felt the
guy drop onto the small of his back.
"Let's get those wrists, blondie. "
"HEY.  HEY.  WHAT THE FUCK."  Bob began to scream, and felt a leathery,
smelly hand cover his mouth.
"Let's have none of that, boy.  I DO got a knife."  Bob heard the click
and he felt it right behind his ear.
"Ain't gonna kill ya, but I can do some damage. You'll hurt good.  Hear
me?"  Bob shook his head yes.  The guy was holding him securely, his
ankle was roped, and his gun, phone, everything, were back at his place.
"Now gimme those wrists boy."  Not wishing to get Grizzly Adams angry,
Bob complied.  He felt the bonds:  he thought back to how Dragon had tied
him up.  Those bondage sessions were light compared to how tightly this
guy was tying him.
"Now, let's just get those ankles tied.  You're big, but I think I can
haul you back to my van. Won't be too difficult.
"Please.  Please.  What are you doing? Please let me go.  I'm a cop."
"Now THAT's a new one on me boy.  I've heard 'I work for the mayor,'
I've heard  'my office will look for me,'  but never 'I'm a cop.  '  Bob
began thinking:  didn't one of the guys who disappeared work for the
mayor's office?
"Grizzly"  rolled him over on his side.  He looked down approvingly.
"Yup.  They're gonna be happy.  REAL happy.  Now let's get you moving.'
He reached under Bob's pits and hauled him  up.  "Grizzly" was much
stronger than he looked, and he understood balances and counterbalances.
He had Bob over his shoulder, his hand planted on his ass, as he walked
forward.
"Van is about 1/4 mile away.  I think we can do that boy.  By the way,
that's what I'm gonna call you unless I get your name. "
"It's... it's   bob.  Bob Sir."   "Grizzly" began to laugh.
"Sir already.  DAMN you're gonna make this easy."
"Where are we going Sir?"  bob asked as he got thrown into the back seat
of the van.
"That, bob, is on a need to know basis, and you don't need to know.  Just
about half an hour drive."
In the backseat,  bob squirmed in the ropes.  His ankles were not tied as
tightly as his wrists, but he couldn't really move either.   The seat was
low enough that he couldn't see where they were, but the air and the
smell of the trees suggested they were further in the woods.
"Ok, bob.  If I untie your ankles,  are you gonna walk, nice and peaceful
into that cabin?  Grizzly pointed to a small wooden shack just in front
of them.  Bob looked around and realized he had no idea where he was.  If
his hands were untied, he might try to wrestle the car keys from his
captor, but all he spoke about was ankles.
"Yes sir.  I promise.  And I'm sorry.  I didn't ask for your name,  "
"Grizzly" smiled.
"You know, I kinda like Sir, but you're entitled to that.  I'm Carl.  "
With one quick slash, bob's ankle restraints were gone.  He thought about
trying a kick that Dragon taught him, but Carl had moved out of range.
"Let's go stud.  Hmmm.  These are gonna go over well too.  A real gun
show. "
"Hey, Carl, can I maybe put my tank top on? It's getting a little
cold."
"I think we could do that.  Let's get inside first."
Once they were inside, Carl threw the keys to his van on a side table.
"Now be still, I'll cut these so you can put on the shirt."
"Yes sir.  Thank you Carl."  When his hands were released, bob slipped on
the tank top.  Then he shoved Carl, HARD.   When Carl fell down, he
grabbed the car keys and pulled open the door.  He ran toward the van,
but before he could get the door opened, he heard the "whiz" of an arrow
go past his head, and land in the tree in front of him.
"I didn't miss bobby.  Next one... right in that haunch of yours.  You
got ten seconds to turn around and get back here.
"SHIT.  " bob thought.
"Ok, ok, Carl.  You win."  He put his hands up and came back to the
cabin.
"I guess we're gonna have to do this the hard way.  " He pointed to a
chair.  "SIT."
"Yes sir." As the ropes tightened around his wrists, bob felt a bit of a
charge in his crotch.
"Now, no one is out here, so if you were to scream, the only person who'd
hear you is me. Still...."
"Hey, NO.  You don't have to do that!  MMMMMMMMMMMMPH"  Black duct tape
went on over bob's mouth.  Three nice sized strips.
"Signaling sucks out here, but let's see."  Carl picked up a cell phone.
"Hey, yeah.  Carl here.  I got the guy.  Put up a fight, but he's nice
and tied up.  How long ?  45 minutes?  " He looked at bob and smiled.
"We'll be fine.  I like blonds."
"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMPH."  bob had an idea what that meant.
"Well, bob... Got 45 minutes to play.  I think I kinda owe it to you to
introduce you to what's in store for ya."  Carl turned around and came
back with two clothespins.
"I don't go in for any of that fancy stuff, but the first nipple clamps
were clothes pins.  Fun too.
"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMPH. "  bob started shaking his head no,
and Carl laughed.
"What's the matter, Mr.  'I'm a cop?"  Don't think you could take it? "
He closed one pin on bob's left nip, then the right one.
""NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGFGMPGPGPGPGNGPDPSNSP(SSS"    Carl laughed at the sound,
as he flicked the pins up and down.
"GOD you're entertaining.  Gonna be hard to give you up.  Now, you want
me to take those off?"
'mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmph."  bob nodded yes.
"You sure?"
"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMPH."  more nodding.
"Ok, but then we're gonna do something else.  Something with that..."  he
pointed to bob's crotch.  "Still want them off?"
A whine came out of bob.  'mmmmmmmmmmmmmphlassssssssssssssssss"
"Ok.. but be warned.  This can hurt more than the pins."
It did.  bob tried to scream so loud, and to jump out of the chair.  This
was the first time he was truly in pain.
"Now, about this thing right here."  Carl pulled out a small paddle.
"How many do you think you can take before you start crying?  Fifteen?
Twenty?  Forty?"  Carl stroked bob's cock with his paddle, and bob moaned
again, begging through the gag.   That's when the paddling started.
"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMPH."
"Like scrambling eggs, boy.  Just like scrambling eggs.  "  bob was about
to start crying when he heard the knock at the door.  Carl opened it up
and he saw:  Justin.  With two other guys.
bob felt relieved.  Justin had found him.  He was safe.  Justin walked
into the room and looked at bob.  He grabbed his hair and yanked his head
back.
"Look good tied up, bob.  Good thing.  You're gonna be .  A LOT.
"WHAT?"  bob was thinking  "What's going on?"  He saw Justin pull out a
thick wad of bills.  He handed them to Carl, who counted them, one at a
time.
"Yup.  50k.  All here.  Pleasure doing business with ya, Mr. Shaw. He's
all yours."
Justin turned to his fellows.  "Take him out.  If he struggles too much,
give him an injection."  He laughed with Carl.
"Had him completely fooled.

Two hours later, exhausted,  bob found himself shirtless again, still
gagged, arms bound over his head.  The winch had pulled them hard enough
so that he had to stand on the tips of his feet. He felt totally
exposed.  He had fought against the restraints until he had no more
strength left.  He heard footsteps. Thick, heavy, slow and steady
footsteps.   Justin came into the cellar dungeon.  He WAS covered, head
to toe, with tattoos.  And hair that seemed to vary from black, to gray
to white.  He was wearing chaps.  And he had a crop in his hand.

"bob.. you sweet little thing you..."  He came up and ran his hand over
bob's torso.  When bob tried to pull away, Justin simply encircled his
waist, and pulled him back.
"Nope.  No use fighting it bob.  No use at all.  I got ya just where I
want ya.  Part of my harem."  bob's eyes looked confused.
"When I'm ready,  I'll introduce you to the other guys I snatched.  Each
of them was fun, but... I think it's time to move on.  I'll find good
homes for them.  My buds are always looking for new merchandise. "  He
smiled as he put his hand on bob's ass.
"And since I got me the blond bitch I always wanted... Now, I don't need
anyone else.  Do I boy?"  He smiled, as he pulled the tape off of bob's
mouth.  bob gasped, sucking in air.
"Please Justin.  Please.  Please let me go.  Please."   Justin just
laughed.
"That's not happening." He reached out for bob's crotch and squeezed his
balls.
"You called me Sir so easily.  What happened?  Hmmm?  The squeezing
changed to twisting and bob moaned.
"I'm sorry.  I'm sorry Sir.  I forgot myself.  Please let me go Sir.
Please."
"Not gonna happen slaveboi.  Not gonna happen at all. " He grabbed bob's
jaw and squeezed .  When bob's mouth opened, Justin covered it with is,
and spit into it.   Then he forced bob's mouth shut.
"SWALLOW IT BITCH.  SWALLOW IT.  THAT'S YOUR FUTURE AS OF NOW.  NO MATTER
WHAT YOU WANT. YOU DO WHAT I SAY."
bob didn't answer.  He was trying to control his cock, which was getting
harder by the minute.
"Know what I hate more than just about anything on a manslave? Hairy
fucking armpits.  Makes him think he's a man.  " He stopped and yelled.
"GRANT.  BRING ME THE SHEARER."
Within a minute, one of the guys who had been at the cabin was back, with
a barber's clippers.
"No SIR.  Please don't.  Please don't...."
"Rather have me do your pubes?"  Part of bob was thinking  "hell yeah,"
but he tried to fight.
"No sir."
"Well, I gotta use em somewhere, and it looks like you've been shaving
your own chest.  That'll stop."  The cold of the metal made bob close his
eyes, but the shaving was mercifully short.
"There.  Shaved like a BITCH.  Like a CUNT.  Like the BITCHCUNT you
are."
"I... I said I'd give you my ass.  In that restaurant, Sir.. But...
this.... "
"Ha ha.  Yeah, you bottoms always think you're gonna control. You ARE
gonna give my your ass.  Rather, I'm gonna TAKE it. I'm gonna TAKE it
whenever I want.  And your mouth.  And anything else I want. " He
paused.
"And know what I don't want?  What I don't need?  THIS."  He grabbed
bob's cock.
"What're we gonna do with this? How do we get rid of it?"
"NO SIR . PLEASE.  Don't.. Don't.."
"Don't what?"
"Don't castrate me?"
"hahahahahahahahaahahahaaha.  Castrate ya?  Nah.  Too much fun to
torture it.  But tomorrow... we lock it up.  After you get the milk cow
treatment."   Justin paused.
"But for now.... let's inaugurate that pretty ass of yours..."
bob thought Justin was gonna take him to a bedroom or something.  He was
wrong.  Justin dropped his pants and.. yes, his cock WAS covered in
tattoos.  How?  How?  bob was thinking, as Justin took out a scissor and
cut away his shorts, then his jock.   bob blushed when he saw how hard he
was.
"Well, well.  Looks like someone is getting a dream come true.."  Justin
was standing behind bob, and bob couldn't see as he slid one, then two,
then three fingers into his ass.  He winced.  But he didn't want to make
any sounds of pain.  And after a few minutes, he wouldn't.  The fingers
felt good.  It was the first time something "live" had been up his ass in
a while.  He began to moan in pleasure.
"OH YES SIR.  YES YES.  OH GOD.  PLEASE.  " Justin's free hand came
around and covered bob's mouth.
"Not gonna bother with a gag now.  Next time."
"mmmmmmmmmmmmmmph"  came out of bob, and then he felt Justin begin to
penetrate him with that tattooed cock.
"OH YEAH.  Every bit as smooth as I thought it would be, boy.  You like
it?"
"mmmmmmmmmmmphhmmmmmmmmmmph."  bob shook his head yes.  He could barely
see the pearl of precum on the tip of  his cock.  It got bigger as Justin
pushed in , deeper and deeper.
"Tomorrow, boy, my guys are going by your place.  I got a thing for
fucking cops in their uniforms and we're gonna get yours.  DAMN.  It's
gonna be so FUCKING HOT."  He pushed and bob tried to yelp.
"You like my boy Carl's clothes pins, boy?"  bob tried to shake his head
no, but something took over and he shook his head yes.
"GOOD.  You're gonna get a lot more of that. " He pounded bob harder.
"You know, I wonder how many loads that ass of yours can  hold.  Maybe
we'll find out.  For now though, it's just gonna take... MINE."  bob felt
the feel of warm jizz going up his butt. GOD it felt GOOD.  His arms
hurt, and that made it feel better.
"OH GOD.  THANK YOU SIR.  THANK YOU..   OH FUCK.."   Justin had reached
around and had begun jerking him.
"I don't think this is gonna take long at all."  When he licked bob's
ear, it was over.  bob began shooting madly.  He cried a little as he
continued to thank Justin.  When it was over, Justin looked at him.
"You're gonna sleep in my bed tonight.  You're in no shape to fight me,
so don't even think about it.  Grant and Peter will be outside the door
too.  They've both got tazers.  GOOD ONES."  He laughed.  "Acquired from
the police department.  We understand each other."
"Yes sir."  bob answered meekly.  He was thinking that if sleeping with
Justin were part of his new life, he could deal with that.
An hour later, that's just what he was doing.