The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Beauty in the Beast

by Chester and Wrestlr

Disclaimer: There’s sex, hypnosis, sodomy, and maybe a few other minor perversions in this. If you don’t like that sort of thing, go elsewhere.

Copyright © 1999 by Chester and Wrestlr. Permission granted to archive if and only if no fee (including any form of “Adult Verification”) is charged to read the file. If anyone pays a cent to anyone to read your site, you can’t use this without the express permission of (and payment to) the authors. This paragraph must be included as part of any archive.

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Beauty in the Beast

Part 8. Day 4.

Ron Brick
Ron arose very early and prepared a special breakfast for Brock. Now there’s only me. Yeh, I’m in charge, like always.
He was feeling so guilty about how badly he had treated Brock and he knew he had to make it up to him. He had gone out back and cut fresh flowers for the table and had it looking just perfect. He felt odd walking around without his pants but he knew somehow it was right and that Brock would approve. He was glad Mrs. MacKenzie hadn’t seen him picking the flowers, though. Now, I don’t mean ta brag but I had this john good. Right where I wanted him, y’know what I’m sayin’? All I had’ta do was bind him a little closer to me ‘n I’d be set on Easy Street fer life. ‘N after t’night with the gas station, I was a-figurin’ he’d be bound up plenty tight. Yeah, this john, he’d be dependin’ on me to bail his sorry ass out for sure!
After the table was set and the breakfast sausage casserole was in the oven, Ron went upstairs and started running Brock’s bath, dropping rose petals into the water. He went to the cabinet and pulled out some oils that he had been saving for a special occasion and thought that he might give Brock a rubdown and massage before he arose and had a nice warm bath. He was makin’ quite a racket downstairs, slammin’ doors, bangin’ pots ‘n clangin’ pans. Then he’s in the bathroom a-runnin’ enough water to float Noah and his whole damn Arc. What the holy fuck was he a-doin’? I know what I told him to do, but did he have to make so much God-durned racket all tha time? Sheesh! Mental note: make him be fuckin’ quieter next time.
He entered the bedroom and saw the untidiness of the room, the ashtray filled with butts on the bedside table, and again a pang of guilt went through him. Did he start Brock smoking? That wouldn’t be healthy for him. He would have to stop him somehow—even though he liked watching him smoke. He owed that to Brock! ‘N this bedroom ... God, whatta fuckin’ pigsty! Clothes ever’where, cig butts spillin’ outta ev’ry ashtray in tha place. I like my smokes ‘n I know he a-likes ta watch, but don’t he got no pride? Gonna have to make him clean up some ‘round here today, b’fore he left fer tha big night I had a-planned for him.
He looked at the sturdy, athletic body on the bed. His arms were muscled and tight, and his breathing was slow and easy. He sat next to the body he loved to look at so much and pulled down the covers. Brock’s back was too him and the sight of this beautiful, tight butt send him into pangs of guilt once again. He opened the bottle of expensive lotion and poured some on his hands, rubbing the liquid together in his hands to warm it. Slowly he placed his hands on Brock’s back, and started slowly and sensually to massage it. Yeah, I heard him come in. Couldn’t miss it, the way he was a-stompin’ ‘round like some elephant. I was tryin’ ta sleep but, shit!, he was makin’ enough noise to wake the fuckin’ dead! The bed moved as he sat on it nextta me. He pulled back the covers some, ‘n I could feel his eyes a-starin’ holes in my skin. Then there was this smell—roses, or some perfumey shit like that—’n then I feel his oily hands in the small’a my back as he starts a-rubbin’ ‘n massagin’ on me, all soft like he’s afraid I’d break or som’thin’.
Brock started to stir, then slowly started to moan. He seemed to be liking the sensation, so Ron started in a little harder, rubbing his hands over the muscles, getting them loose and in shape. Brock rolled so that Ron could straddle him and really dig in. ‘Kay, I love havin’ my back rubbed, ‘n this john, he hit some’a the sweet spots. I moaned a little ‘n rolled flat on my stomach so’s he could a-straddle me ‘n really do the job up right. I moaned some more ‘n he got the idea, started putting some more muscle inta it.
After a few minutes he began to do more than moan—he talked. “Nice, man ... nice!” Ron started to tell him how much he loved him and wanted to make everything right by him and how sorry he was that he behaved the way he did the day before. Brock didn’t say much, except for the occasional “Oh, right! Right there! ... yes ... Mmmmm.” When he found some’a them sweet spots where it feels real good, I said so, so’s he’d keep working ‘em longer. “Oh, yeah, dude,” I’d say, “That’s nice. Right there, dude.” He started a-goin’ on about som’thin’ but like I fucking wanted to listen! I tol’ him to shut his pie hole ‘n keep working over my back, and he did what I tol’ him.
After a little while, when Ron was sure by the sounds that Brock’s cock was hard again, he turned him over and began to massage his legs and work his way back up to his cock. He spent a long while making sure Brock’s cock was good and hard, then went down on it until Brock came—loudly and with much more colorful language than he had used in the past. Yeah, I was fuckin’ hard as a brick. I knew what was up, right? I knew what he was a-wantin’. When he turned me over, he tried pretendin’ he weren’t innerested by a-rubbin’ my legs ‘n shit, but pretty soon he’s back slobberin’ all over my cock. He liked it when I talk dirty, so I let fly a-cussin’ when I started to cum, ‘n I came hard.
Ron told him his bath was ready and asked him if he wanted “help” bathing, and when he said he didn’t, went downstairs to get the final things ready for breakfast. He tol’ me he’d run me a bath, ‘n did I want him to help? I tol’ I din’t need no fuckin’ help so he ske-daddled downstairs to finish getting’ my breakfast ready.
Brock came down about 20 minutes later in a robe that belonged to Ron. He was smoking a cigarette and had combed his hair in a different way. At least it seemed different to Ron. As soon as he saw him, all Ron’s thoughts went to serving him, to make up for the awful day before. He couldn’t do enough to satisfy whatever Brock wanted. Warmer’n I liked but I climbed in anyway. Fucking rose petals and flower petals a-floating in it. Shit! What kinda faggot puts flowers in his bath water? Well, pretty soon I’m through and tired’a pickin’ petals outta my pubes so I put on his ol’ bathrobe, some kinda thick terrycloth that felt real nice, ‘n went downstairs to eat.
Finally, after they both had eaten, Brock looked over at Ron and smiled. “Nice meal, dude. Nice. Fuck me, now, asshole!” After I demolished the grub, I let out this big ol’ burb ‘n grinned ‘n said, “Nice work, dude. Fuck me now, you asshole.”
The words kind of shocked Ron, but at the same time he felt strange. He focused totally on Brock and knew he not only wanted to fuck the boy, he wanted to do it hard and rough. He felt a kind of anger building up inside him. He no longer was feeling guilt about the other day ... he felt nothing akin to guilt, only a mad passion that included roughing Brock up a little. He needed it. Needed it bad. Listen, I don’t put out the pink fer just anybody, but sometimes ya gotta sweeten tha pot, y’know? Besides, I’d made sure he’d be real eager ta please when I said that. Yeah, real eager. His face went kinda blank ‘n then ya could see him start getting hot for me. Pretty soon he’s burnin’ up with a need to get inta my ass and make me feel real good. Yeh, he was right where I wanted him, all right.
Ron stood up, knocking over the chair he was sitting in. He stood over Brock and looked down at him. He reached down and grabbed his neck and pushed him back. Brock reached out to grab Ron but was unable to as the chair tipped over backward. Brock’s head was high enough to avoid hitting the floor and his back took the brunt of the fall. In a second Ron was on top of him, pinning his hands and arms up over his head and kissing him hard, too hard. He’s so hot ta get inta my ass he jumps up ‘n tips over his chair. He comes a-jumpin’ at me ‘n knocks over my chair too ‘n falls over on me. Good thing I know how’ta take a fall or it mighta hurt me. He’s all over me inna second, a-grabbin’ me ‘n a-tryin’ ta pin my hands up over my head. I let him for a little bit, ‘n he started a-trying to kiss me even though I kept turnin’ my head and a-trying to keep away from his slobberin’ tongue.
Now Brock seemed to get into it as well. He pulled his arms away, and the two of them started wrestling on the floor. The wrestling seemed to make Ron work harder and he increased the shouting: “Come on, motherfucker. Come on, cocksucker. I’m gonna give it to you good!” For an hour, the two went at it, roughly, until Ron came inside Brock’s butt. Then exhausted, they both lay on the floor, breathing heavily. Just ‘cause I was sweetenin’ the pot din’t mean I wasn’t gonna make him work for it, ‘n I did too. We rassled ‘round on tha floor ‘n Ron was a-yellin’ shit like we was in some cheap porno movie. He grabbed the butter off’a tha table ‘n smeared it up my ass, ‘n then he shoved his dick up there. Hurt like a muthafucker but I took it like a man. He din’t last too long though, five, ten minutes tops ‘n he blasted.
After a few minutes, Ron jumped up and commanded the still-woody wrestler. “All right, get the fuck up. I want you to earn your keep here ... so get into that fucking kitchen and clean it good. I’m going out for a while and I expect it spotless, asswipe! Now move it!” I still had a big ol’ fuckin’ hard-on but Ron was already a-jumpin’ ‘round ‘n yellin’ at me to start earning my keep this, start cleanin’ up that, shit like that. Kinda funny, ‘cause I knew where this was a-goin’, ‘n Ron, he was right on schedule, far as I could see.
Brock smiled and went out into the kitchen. Ron quickly went upstairs and pulled on an old pair of tight jeans and a white sleeveless tee-shirt. He screamed something at Brock in the kitchen as he ran out the door, got in his car, and burned rubber as he sped off. So I went off inta tha kitchen—let him think he won, huh?—’n Ron went upstairs to change inta tha uniform I tol’ him to put on when I was givin’ him his instructions fer the day. Hey, if he was gonna this this right, he was sure’s hell gonna look the part, am I right?
He had no memory of what happened in between. Something had stirred him, and he was aware of it again. He only knew when he looked at his watch that it was 8 p.m. and he was sitting in a jail cell. He looked through the bars and saw Brock on the other side. He looked concerned but not as concerned as Ron was as consciousness came slipping back. He peeled off in the car. I knew right where he was a-goin’. I knew what he was a-gonna do when he got there. Remember that gas station down the street? Seein’ how it was his first time knockin’ over a station, I din’t imagine he’d pull it off. So I just kicked back ‘til the police called. Then I got some cash from his stash ‘n headed down to bail him out.
“Uh, where am I? How did I get here!” He din’t remember a thing, nat’rully.
Brock’s smile was sheepish. I just a-grinned. I had him good.