The HypnoMaster

This story is fiction about consensual sex, bondage, and BDSM between
age (18+) boys and adult males. If it is illegal to read such
material in your jurisdiction, or if you are under the legal age to do
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By Cary Harvey Church

E-mail:          CaryHarveyChurch@gmail.com 

Website:         https://www.caryharveychurch.com/

Characters list and bios

Chapter 8 - The Post Office

I close the front door and try and tidy up all the mess the boy has just caused in my home. The carpet looks ruined with cigarette ash, mud, and tyre marks all over it. I put the items that he knocked over back in place. My place is back to some normality after the crazy scene that has just taken place.

It is 9.55 pm. I take my seat at my desk and wait for 10 pm to speak to my Master. “My Master”. I say it again and again in my head. It feels odd and normal at the same time. I have so many questions for him. Did he share a video of me with that boy? Who else has he shared videos of me with? Why did he send him over? Why did he promise the boy I would pay for him to abuse me?

Whilst I think about all these questions, I can feel my cock straining behind its cage. I am so turned on and horny by it all. Maybe it isn’t something I should be worried about. Perhaps this is what I want. I must tell Sir.

10 pm on the dot my skype is ringing. I answer it as quickly as possible. There he is—my Master. I have a beaming smile on my face. I completely worship this amazing, powerful man.

“Hello, my slave,”  he smiles back. “How are you?”

“Hello, Master. I am very well, Master. I can’t thank you enough. I am yours to do as you wish.”

“You have taken to my control better than I had expected,” He says as he leans forward to the camera with that glint of his in his eye. “I have decided to change my plans with you. Do you see the document printed on the printer?”

I look over and see a pile of papers sitting in the printed tray of the printer.

“Pick them up now.” He orders me.

I reach over and collect the printed pages. I tap them on the table to get them in a neat pile. I start to read the first page. It is a contract of employment.

He clicks his fingers and says, “Sleep” I go into a deep sleep trance.

“and ONE, you are awake. You feel afresh. You feel so good, and you know you are my slave.” I awake to his voice again from the screen.

I look down and can see a big brown envelope, sealed and stamped. I try to read the address and name, but I just cannot read it. It is like my brain cannot read words anymore. All I know is that I must get this envelope into the post. I suddenly notice my chastity device is no longer on. My hard cock is staring up at me.

He chuckles to himself, “You look confused, slave. Let me help you understand. You know longer work for your old company. You now work for me. I am organising your visa to move to Texas, but we need to up your training until then. I am sending you to someone special. They will help you get ready for your new life. You know what you need to do. I am sure you will make me proud.”

“Master. Can I ask a question?” I say with my head bowed. I have no idea what I am supposed to do.

“No, you cannot. You will know what to do when it is time. Go to bed now.” He says abruptly before hanging up the Skype call.

I switch off the computer and turn the lights off and head upstairs. I here the cameras follow me around the house as I go. I get into bed and lie their, naked in the darkness. I cannot stop myself from masturbating again. I keep jerking myself, but as soon as I start getting close to cumming, my hand just stops and leaves me on edge.

I sigh to myself. I know what my night is going to be like. My hand tortures my cock all night long. Getting me so close to climax and then stopping. I start to drift off to sleep, but it goes again. Tugging up and down my hard cock. Getting me so close to the edge. Then stop. I get 10 or 20 mins of sleep between each self edging session.

In the morning, my balls hurt so much. They are crying out for a release of the pent up frustration. I try and wank to completion in the shower. But Sir’s control over me is far too strong. I never allow myself to cum.

I go back into the bedroom; I have an urge to look in the wardrobe. I open it up, and I can see only one of my suit hanging up with a white shirt and yellow tie. The suit is one of my expensive, tailored ones. I look in the drawers and can only see one pair of black socks—nothing else. No underwear.

I put the suit trousers on with no underwear. My hard cock tent poles under the silky suit fabric. I carefully do the zip up. I cannot resist but to jerk my cock in the suit trousers. I get myself to the edge again and stop. The precum makes a wet spot on the trousers. I have gotten into my auto edging routine; I have 20 to 30 mins till I do it again. My cock goes to a semi-hard state. It is less like a tent pole.

I put the shirts, the tie and the jacket on. I slide the socks onto each of my feet and put my beautifully polished black shoes on. I look in the long mirror. I look like a businessman again. It has been months since I last put on a suit. I have not needed to with this lockdown.

I go downstairs and have some breakfast. I am washing up the breakfast dishes as I feel the urge happening in my trousers again. I quickly dry my hands, and off I go again. I am edging myself. The precum patch had nearly dried, and now I had added to it.

I look at the clock. 9 am. I grab the envelope from my desk with my keys, phone and wallet. I head out of the door, closing it behind me. I look down at my crotch. You can see a sort of wet patch, but hopefully, no one will notice. I do my jacket up to help hide it. I just know I must get to the post office as quickly as possible.

I walk down the high street. Nearly all the shops are closed due to lockdown. The roads are empty. The post office is the only shop open. I look into the shop before entering. No one else is in there. I see the sign on the door.

“MAX 2 PERSONS AT ANY TIME”

I enter the post office and walk up to the counter. A mid-twenties Indian guy pops his head around the back door of the shop. “Be right with you.” He shouts out to me.

“No problem,” I say back to him. I look around the shelves as I wait for him. He eventually comes up to the counter of the post office. It is now behind a new plastic screen.

“How can I help you?” He asks me.

“I need to send the as fast as possible to America,” I say as I hold up the brown envelope.

“Put it on the scales.”

I put it on the scales and then slide it under the plastic screen to him. He taps away on his computer till. I awkwardly look around the shop. I see the clock behind him. 9.25 am. Oh no. Please don’t start edging myself. I say to myself. I can feel my cock growing in my trousers. The silky fabric of my trousers and my over sensitive cock soon have me fully hard again. I glance down and can see I am full tentpole.

My righthand cannot stop its self. It grabs the end of my cocks and starts to stroke my hard cock. I look up at the guy. Eyes fixed on him. He is busy writing out the details. He looks so hot and horny, I think to myself. My eyes cast down his body and down to his crotch. My eyes are now fixed on the bulge in his trousers. I want to bury my face in between his legs.

I am so transfixed on his cock and my imagination going wild that I don’t hear him talking to me. He taps his pen on the counter between my gaze of his crotch. It snaps me back to the room. I look up at him with a bright red face. I stop stroking my cock but squeeze it tight to prevent the jerking motion. My eyes are now fixed on him, but I am still not hearing him. I am still thinking about servicing his cock.

I slowly come out of the fog on my trance. “Are you ok?” he is saying to me.

“Erm, yes, sorry. You are very hot. Erm, yes, I would like to…” I say sort of incoherently.

“You would like to what?” He says with a smirky grin.

“Oh, fuck. Did I say that out loud? I mean, erm, you are one hot guy.” I let go of my cock and wipe the sweat from my brow.

“Thank you. You’re not bad yourself,” he says with a wink. “To send this first-class tracked, it will be £6.85.”

“Great,” I say as I feel my whole body sweat. I fumble my wallet out of my jacket pocket and touch my card on the card payment device.

His till prints out a receipt, and he slides it back over to me. “Is there anything else I can do for you?” he asks with a very cheeky grin.

Without thinking, I reply, “It is more; what can I do for you, Sir.”

“Oh, really. You like it like that, do you,” he says with a massive grin. He walks out behind the counter and past me. I just keep my gaze on him as he strolls to the shop front doors and slides a bolt across, locking them. He takes a blue-tac sign from behind the door and sticks it in the window. He walks past me and to the door to the back of the shop.

He stands in the doorway, looking back at me. His eyes are looking down from my eyes all the ways to my hard tentpole cock. “Come on, slave,” he says quizzically.

I smile back at him, calling me a slave.

“Thought as much.” he chuckles. “I haven’t got long.”

I quickly trot down to him and under his arm into the back room. He turns and closes the door behind him. It’s a storeroom with boxes of all sorts. He doesn’t mess about and unzips and gets his cock out and starts to stroke it hard.

“Stripe for me, slave.” He says as he strokes his beautiful brown cut cock. It grows to a good 8 inches.

I undress super quickly, and in no time, I am standing completely naked, hard and aroused in front of him.

“Suck it.” He shakes his cock at me.

I drop to my knee and swallow all 8 inches of his cock. My nose bury’s itself into his dark pubic bush. His manly sweaty crotch fills my nostrils. He is lovely and ripe down there. He grabs my hair and starts to facefuck me hard. I grab each of his arse cheeks to go with his thrust. His cock head bangs down the back of my throat. He is relentless in his thrusting.

He pulls me off his cock, undoes his belt, and drops his trousers and underwear around his ankles. My salvia glints off the head of his cock. My cock has been hard and crying out for pleasure and release, but now my hands stay fixed to my sides. It is like I must be tortured with giving pleasure and not getting any myself.

He turns around, putting one hand onto the door, and the other just pulls one of his arse cheeks apart. “Get in there, slave and give me a good deep clean.”

I grab both his arse cheeks with my hands. They are so firm and muscular. I pull them apart to expose his hairy arsehole. I push my face deep into his crevice, pushing my tongue deep inside him. He lets out a deep moan each time I push my tongue in and out of him. His sweaty smell is even more pungent. My cock twitches with each breath of his scent.

My hands let go of his arse cheeks, allowing his arse to squeeze tight around my face. I tease his balls with my left hand and stroke up and down his cock with my right. I can barely breathe with my face squashed into his arse, but I just keep going, trying to suck air through the tight crack of his arse.

“I am close,” he moans out. He pulls away and spins back around to face me as he jerks himself off to completion. He shoots his hot cum all over my face. The jets of cum are in my hairs and all down my face and dripping down onto my chest.

He is breathing so deeply. It is all we can hear in the room. He shakes his cock in front of my lips. I didn’t need a verbal command. I swallow his cock and suck the last of the cum out of it. His cum tastes so sweet. He has to pull me off his cock as I could not stop myself.

I stay kneeling at his feet, and he gathers his underwear and trousers from around his ankles. He zips himself up and brushes his black hair back. He checks himself in the mirror. He opens the door and looks around the corner. He looks back down at me, naked, kneeling, covered in his cum, “Stay here; I have customers.” He walks out of the room and shuts it behind him. I hear him lock it with a key, and then the light is switched off. I am left in the darkness.

I can hear him serving customers. I just sit quietly in the dark, edging myself. I can feel his cum dripping down my face. He never ordered me to clean it, so I leave it there to drip and dry on my face.

It feels like hours I had been kneeling in the small storeroom in the dark. The lights come on, blinding me, and the door unlocks. He comes back in and shuts it behind him.

“You are a good slave. You’ve not moved since I left. Time for lunch,” he says, rubbing his cock in his trousers. “Then, I will let you go.”

“Thank you, Sir,” I say as I lean forward to sniff his bulge in his trousers.

He drops his trousers and underwear again. “Do it like last time. Work my arse and cock at the same time.” He turns around to face the door.

I get to work on his arse and cock again. He is soon spinning around again to give me another coating of his hot cum. This time he's got more of it in my hair than on my face. I suck him clean again.

He does himself up again and is peering around the door to check it is all clear. “Bugger, two people are queueing to come in,” he huffs.

“Sir, I need to go soon. I have a train to catch.” I say it to him but think about what train. But I know I must get a train. It has only now come to me. I must be at the station by 2 pm.

“Ok, slave. As soon as I can get you out without being noticed, I will. You get dressed and be ready to go. But don’t clear my cum off you. I like seeing it in your hair and on your face,” He leaves the store, but this time doesn’t lock the door or switch the light off.

It isn’t too long till he is at the door. “Come on; you can go now.”

I walk past him at the doorway and look around the shop. No one else is in the shop. He slaps my arse. “Whenever you want another special delivery, you know where to come.” He says with a smile.

“Yes, Sir, Thank you, Sir. It was my pleasure.”

He runs his finger in his cum in my hair and down my face. He holds it out for me to suck. I suck his finger deep as I did with his cock. My eyes fixed on his. I can tell I am turning him on again.

He pulls his finger out. “Off you go. Till next time.”

I quickly dash out of the post office and start running towards the station.

By Cary Harvey Church

E-mail:          CaryHarveyChurch@gmail.com 

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