Christopher & Craig
Part 29: Mitch Improves.
I opened the front door and did a double take. It was Mitch all right. But he looked amazing. He wore a white shirt open over a skin-tight shirt with jeans so tight you could see the bills in his wallet.
He stepped inside and removed his boots.
“Polish your boots. Mitch, take off your jeans.”
He dropped his jeans. The skin-tight shirt was actually a spandex singlett—the type wrestlers wear.
“Take off the shirt, boy.”
He doffed the white shirt. I admired him in the singlett and socks. This was a good look for him.
“Mitch, how do you feel?”
“Good, sir.”
“You will wear this from now on—a singlett and socks. You look incredible. Your body is so hot like this. You are attractive to men. You like to be. You don’t have to cover up your spandex anymore. You can wear spandex in public now with nothing over it. You know you have to. The more spandex you wear in public the more attractive you will be to men. Right, boy?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s right. Now, would you like to suck cock?”
“Yes, sir, Master!”
“Go into the den.” I followed behind him.
Craig was seated on the straight-back chair, feet frozen and unable to speak. I stood behind him and gently massaged his shoulders. “Craig, you are going to allow Mitch to practice his technique a bit more on you. When he’s done you can give him some pointers.”
Craig nodded.
“Mitch, suck Craig’s cock.”
Mitch dropped to his knees beside Craig’s chair. Craig pushed his briefs down, freeing his cock.
Mitch devoured him.
I sat in my chair, propped my feet on the coffee table, and watched for a bit. This weekend I would have to set into motion my plan to get Mitch off the force. But for tonight he could simply be the spandex-wearing, cock-sucking bootboy that he so desired to be.
Craig was stretching back in the chair, moaning softly. Mitch seemed to have become skilled in this art already. I wondered what would happen after this weekend.
“Craig,” I said. “You may cum when you’re ready.”
Craig’s head rolled back and Mitch swallowed everything this time. He licked Craig clean.
I stretched my arms languidly. Watching them was hard work. Well, something was hard about it. “Craig, did you enjoy that?”
He nodded his head.
“Mitch, take off your singlett.”
He stripped it off and stood naked, except for his socks. If his muscles were less defined and his cock not pointing north his body could be confused with a ten year old’s. He was as smooth as I’d ever seen a man.
“Mitch, do you remember when we talked about good bootboys?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you remember what I said about when good bootboys cum?”
“Yes, sir!”
“What did I say?”
“Good bootboys need permission to cum, sir.”
“Are you a good bootboy?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Then when can you cum?”
“With permission, sir!”
“That’s right. And you don’t have permission. Do you understand?”
“Yes, SIR!”
“Unfreeze your tongue, Craig. How’s Mitch doing?”
“Very good, Master.”
“Unfreeze your feet. Switch places with Mitch.”
Craig stood up and Mitch sat on the chair.
“Craig, show Mitch how much you enjoyed what he did.”
“Yes, Master.” He sounded a bit unhappy.
“Craig, the more you please Mitch, the more you’ll please me.”
His eyes lit up.
“And if you please me you’ll enjoy it later.”
“Yes, Master!” He dropped to his knees and began teasing Mitch’s cock with his tongue.
Mitch began writhing in the chair. It wasn’t really a surprise; he was probably ready to explode. I had purposely not been allowing him to cum very often to teach him discipline.
“Mitch,” I said softly, “The feelings you are experiencing are remarkably intense. You’ve waited your whole life to be touched by a man. Nothing has ever felt this good to you.”
Mitch extended his legs and stiffened them.
“This is only one way to be with a man. There is another way. You like this way. It feels good to you. It feels right to be with a man.”
He was clutching the sides of the chair’s seat with his hands. His knuckles were white.
“You will like the other way even more. You will beg for it. Do you understand, Mitch?”
“Yes, sir!” he yelped.
Craig continued to concentrate his attention on Mitch’s cock. Mitch struggled to hold on to the chair as the ecstasy flooded over his body.
“Do you want to cum?”
His face was contorted with tension. “Yes, SIR!”
“Ask for permission.”
“May I cum, sir?”
“Beg!”
He gritted his teeth. “Please, SIR, may I cum now?”
“Who am I?”
“Master! Please!” He screamed.
“Cum.”
His entire body seemed to convulse as he shot into Craig’s mouth. Craig took no notice of the agony Mitch had endured. He continued licking him.
When Mitch was spent he slumped on the chair, sweating and panting, his entire body limp.
“You’re a good bootboy. You only cum with permission. Did you enjoy that, Mitch?”
“Yes, sir,” he said meekly.
“The next time you give a blowjob you will do what was done to you. You will remember everything and practice to give the best blowjob you can. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Get dressed.”
He stood and pulled on his singlett. Then he left the room.
Craig was kneeling beside the chair waiting for my attention.
“You pleased me very much, Craig. You will be rewarded after Mitch leaves.”
“Thank you, Master.”
I joined Mitch in the foyer. He had his jeans and shirt on again.
“Mitch tonight you will go home and think about ways to please your Master. Tomorrow night you’ll return here. Do you have any questions?”
“No, sir.”
“Beginning tomorrow you’ll show off your spandex. 1...2...3.”
He slipped on his boots and left.
I returned to the den. Mike would be here soon and Craig had to be out of sight for that. He was already worried by Mitch’s presence. Another boy in the house would only complicate things.
“Craig, why don’t we go upstairs and—”
“Okay, Master. My white socks.”
Master said I’d be rewarded. This was the right time to talk to him.
“My white socks. You like to think about my white socks, Master. I want you to tie me up again. Can’t you please? Wouldn’t you like to see me tied up? And you could look at my white socks. Tie me up, Master. Please.”
“Tie you up...”
“Yes, Master. Wake up.”
Master opened his eyes. “Craig, stay here.”
“Can I serve you, Master?”
He walked to his desk and opened the bottom drawer. He got out the slave collar and shackles!
I wanted to jump up and down. But Master grabbed me and pushed me onto the couch. He fastened the collar around my neck and forced my hands up to chain them in. Then he shackled my ankles and tickled the bottoms of my feet. I squirmed and he tickled them some more.
“Get up!” he ordered.
I jumped to my feet. The chains rattled. My dick was hard.
He pushed me—not hard—down the hall and up the stairs to his bedroom. Master said he’d reward me!
“Spread your legs, boy.”
“Yes, Master!” I put my feet as far apart as the chain would stretch.
Master said something I didn’t hear. I couldn’t move at all. I was stuck!
“That’s good, Craig,” Master said. “Close your eyes.”
I couldn’t see anything. Where was Master?”
“You’ll make a good statue of a slave.”
To be continued in Part 30...
Christopher & Craig Part 30: Mike’s Fantasy
I had just reached the landing at the bottom of the stairs when the doorbell rang. That would be Mike. Juggling three boys was proving to be more work than I had expected.
I opened the door. There was Mike, in his uniform, sans cap.
“Come on in. I was expecting you. How are you?”
He stepped inside and smiled warily. “Fine, thanks. You?”
It suddenly occurred to me that he didn’t know my first name. “You can call me Christopher, you know.”
“Thanks, Christopher.” He seemed to relax a little.
“Why don’t we have a seat in the den? I’ve been thinking about out conversation from last night and I think you might be interested to know—”
He perched nervously on the edge of the couch. He looked ready to bolt for the door at a moment’s notice. I needed to do something about that.
“—Queer Pizza Boy.” By the time I sat in my chair his eyes were shut. I needed to put him at ease quickly. “Mike, are you comfortable? You don’t look comfortable. Relax... Sit back on the couch... Breathe in and out... In and out...”
He settled back on the couch.
“Is that better?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“That’s good. Relaxing more and more... Mike, you will think of me as a very good friend. You like coming here. You will no longer feel nervous about being here. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good. You’re a good boy, Mike. And good boys like to follow instructions. So you like to follow instructions.” I leaned back in my chair. Here we go again. This was the part that was so intoxicating. Last night I had simply asked a few questions. Tonight I would start making alterations.
But small ones first.
I began speaking very soft and slow. “Mike, it feels good to sit here and listen to my voice. It’s so easy to do what I say. Your mind wants to relax and just be carried along on my words. Your body wants to move to do just what I tell it to do. You feel your whole body relaxing as I talk to you. Your face... neck... shoulders... arms... relaxing... Your chest... back... legs... becoming more and more relaxed, more and more comfortable. All relaxed except your feet. Your feet are not relaxed, Mike. Do you feel that?”
I waited. The slack expression on his face changed slightly. “Yes,” he said softly.
“You know what the problem is. You’re wearing shoes. You don’t like to wear shoes, Mike. Your feet can’t relax. You want to take off your shoes. You’ll feel much more relaxed. Go ahead. Take them off.”
I watched as his right hand snaked down and pulled off first his right, then his left sneaker.
“Wiggle your toes, Mike. Doesn’t that feel good?”
His toes wriggled in his white socks. “Yes.”
“Your feet feel so relaxed now. Your whole body is relaxed. Breathe in and out... Mike, when you are here you will be relaxed. So from this day forward when you enter my house you will remove your shoes. You won’t even think about it. As soon as you enter my house you will take off your shoes. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Say it.”
“I will take off my shoes.”
“When?”
“When I enter your house.”
“That’s right. Good. I see you’re wearing white socks, Mike. Did you know that good boys ALWAYS wear white socks? Good boys are only allowed to wear white socks. And you want to be a good boy. So you are only allowed to wear white socks. Say it.”
“I am only allowed to wear white socks.”
“Good boy. Queer Pizza Boy. Relax... Breathe in and out...” He was accepting everything I said very readily. Perhaps it was his youth? I decided to find out.
“Mike, have you ever been hypnotized before?”
“No.”
“Have you ever had orders to follow?”
“Yes.”
“Who gave those orders?”
“My father.”
“Was he very strict?”
“Yes.”
“What happened if you didn’t follow his orders?”
“I was punished.”
I was grinning. I couldn’t help it. This was terrific! A strict male authority figure who gave orders that had to be followed. Perfect conditioning. I couldn’t ask for better prep work. I wondered what his father would have thought if he’d known all those years of threats and orders had primed his son for use as a human plaything.
But exactly what kind of plaything? Craig liked to be tied up; I’d known that when we began. Mitch had a thing for spandex; he’d confessed that. What was Mike’s hidden passion?
“Breathe in and out, Mike. You feel good all over... Safe... Warm... Relaxed... You like this feeling, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Every time you hear me say Queer Pizza Boy you will feel this way. Only better. Because each time I say Queer Pizza Boy you relax more and more. Do you understand, Queer Pizza Boy?”
“Yes.”
“Mike, I want you to think about your fantasies now. What is your deepest fantasy? The one you never tell anyone about. The one that only you know. Can you see it in your mind? Tell me your fantasy.”
He took several long, slow breaths. “It’s dark,” he said. His voice had a dreamlike quality. “A light comes on. And music starts playing. Loud music with a slow beat. And I get up to dance. And I take off my shirt. And I dance some more. And I take off my pants. And women start stuffing bills in my underwear. And I dance around and around...”
A bulge had grown in his pants.
I sat imagining Mike on a stage, stripping. What a great fantasy. I bet he’d be hot without clothes; he was adorable with them. He still had a boyish quality. He’d do well as a stripper. He must have some hidden exhibitionist qualities. I could bring them out.
Hell, I could bring HIM out.
“Mike, relax. Have you ever stripped before?”
“No.”
“Have you ever taken your clothes off in public?”
He hesitated. “Yes.”
“When?”
There was a long pause. “Once.”
There was something tied to that memory that he wasn’t ready to share. I wouldn’t press him now. Some other time. I tried a new approach. “Breathe in and out... Tell me, do you wear boxers or briefs?”
“Boxers.”
“Okay. That’s okay for now.” I probably should end soon. For the changes to last they’d need to be gradual. “Mike, do you own a G-string?”
“No.”
“Mike, on the way home tonight you are going to stop at the mall. You will buy—” I thought for a second “—seven G-strings. And white socks. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“What will you buy?”
“Seven G-strings and white socks.”
“Good. Tomorrow when you get dressed you will put a G-string on under your boxers. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, Mike. Tomorrow you will return here. Do you work tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“What time do you get out?”
“Six.”
“Good. You will drive here. Breathe in and out... You have learned a lot of new lessons tonight. When I count to three you will awaken. You will remember nothing we have talked about. But your subconscious mind will incorporate all of the new information and you will do what I told you. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“You will believe we are good friends. My name is Christopher and you feel very comfortable with me. You will not worry about how much time has passed while you were here, you will simply remember having had a good time. Do you have any questions?”
“No.”
“Good. Put on your sneakers.”
He slowly reached down and fumbled to shove his feet into his sneakers.
“Remember, beginning tomorrow you will remove them when you enter my house.”
“Yes.”
“You feel refreshed and happy. You will not be concerned by the hard-on in your pants or the time you can’t remember. I will see you tomorrow after six. 1...2...3.” I got to my feet. “And I’m so glad you stopped by. I’ll look forward to tomorrow.”
Mike was blinking in confusion. “After work?” he asked.
“Yes. I’ll fix some dinner for us and we can talk some more. Unless you’d rather not.”
He stood. “No, I’ll be here.”
“Good.” I walked him to the door. The human mind has an amazing capacity for rationalization. “Goodnight, Mike.”