Extracts of Eric
The Present Day— Eric
I sat at the desk, my Master looking on as I completed today’s journal entry. In some ways this was the worst part of my day: being forced to describe the details of my miserable existence in all it’s sick depravity. It was worse than actually having sex with all the men. Writing about it… made it more real, like I couldn’t pretend it was all a bad dream.
From the corner of my eye, Master John smirked as he read my last paragraph. I don’t think I could ever explain what it feels like: to be so utterly controlled by another human being. My body hasn’t obeyed me for over two years and when I look back to the time before Master John. I can hardly believe I had so much freedom. But that was then and this is now. As I write: the thoughts and feelings I describe are mine but it was no more my decision to transcribe them into a journal than it was to become a mindless slave. It’s a unsettling feeling: watching my hand work independently, pen gripped tightly between my finger and thumb. The pen moves confidently across the page, leaving behind it a trail of my deepest and darkest thoughts: concisely written and neatly formatted, bound in navy blue .
I turn the page and barely pausing, my hand continues to write. I use to think hypnotism was a joke. A trick that relied on attention starved dickheads and a jackass with a theatrical manner. But I’ve been hypnotised for over two years and believe me now I’m a believer. It took me a while to understand why, when my body was in a trance, how I could think and be aware of what was going on despite being powerless to control my body. It was a few days before Master John explained. He told me that keeping my mind awake was part of the punishment. I wish I’d never crossed him. Of all the little fags in school why did I have to pick on him? But then how could any of my gang have known what Master John really was? It’s when I’m writing that my mind is clearest and I can think properly. It’s only during this period; I can fully comprehend what I’ve been made to do, especially when Master John uses my “Rent Boy” trigger. All the self loathing and disgust rushes back when he releases me from my that level of hypnosis. It was a moment or two before I realised my hand had stopped, the pen now motionless in my grip. I look down at the full page I have just written. I am obviously finished. Master John places a hand on my bare shoulder. My body is rigid but inside I flinch: I used to have the strong desire to kill the bastard whenever he touched me, but these days all I could usually muster was despair. I was resigned to our arrangement now.
My Master began to speak and as usual my focus is torn away from my inner turmoil and re-directly entirely to the worship of his voice.
“Very good Eric“, he whispers in my ear. “Please go and prepare for your 4 o clock”
“Yes Master John”, I intoned conversationally.
My legs carry me across the apartment to my bedroom. It’s not really my bedroom, I don’t sleep there or anything. I sleep with Master John. No this is the room I take clients to. I know what Master John wants me to wear; I find it hanging in the closet. It wasn’t enough that Master John makes his money from selling my body but he also enjoys humiliating me in small ways. I am used to being naked all the time now but I will never become comfortable wearing this. I put on small denim shorts, my dick and balls clearly outlined against the ridiculously tiny amount of fabric. I catcha glimpse of myself in the full length mirror. It dawns on my how long it’s been since I last bothered to look in a mirror. It’s painful to jealously admire a face and body that used to be yours. I notice that two years of strict diet, daily weights and exercise have had an effect on my physique. I used to be slim, fit for an eighteen year old but nothing too showy but now a stranger stares back at me. A stranger: with the hard muscled body of a man in his early twenties. I don’t even look like me any more. If I had worked for this physique myself, I would have been proud of it. But as Master John’s rent boy: the hard pecs and six pack looked comical in their impotency. What must I look like to my clients, a handsome built guy being ordered about by a faggotty little wuss like Master John. God even my face has changed. I had always been described as handsome or even hot but my face has now lost its boyishness and appeared more chiselled possibly also accentuated by my short styled hair. While these thoughts were running through my head, I pulled a T-shirt over my head. It clung to my body tightly almost like a second skin. It even rode a centimetre or two up my torso, revealing a slight treasure trail and a glimpse of my taut abdominals. My costume was complete, with a finishing flourish I fiddled with the denim shorts so that some of my pubic hair could be seen poking out the top. I spun round and picked my tools from a battered chest of drawers. I looked out: condoms, lube, massage oils, variously sized dildos and a butt plug. My client at 4pm was a middle aged man called Graham. He was an easy customer, all he usually wanted was a massage with hand job, or blowjob. It’s the ones who make me take it roughly up the butt I hate. It’s small things like that, that can make or break a day. But I won’t lie if I could end my life today I would. I would have given up all hope of freedom if not for the smallest shred of hope that Master John had given me. He might of been lying or found the perfect way to torment me further but the seed of hope was planted. On the day I was enslaved, Master John promised me that I would be freed on my twenty first birthday, when I had paid in kind for the two years of bullying I had gifted him. Back then, I didn’t know his power, I couldn’t possibly imagine the things he’d make me do. My twenty first birthday is just under two months time, all I could do was hope…
I can hear the door bell ring in the hall. My mind is racing, it always does when I think back on that conversation two years ago. I wait for Master John. He arrives promptly by the doorway. I understand when I’m triggered, I’ll become stupider and slower but frankly it’s a relief sometimes not to have to experience complex thoughts or feelings.
“Rent Boy Eric, obey the client”
My mind is scrubbed clean, I’m me but not me. My thoughts are winding down and then they putter to a stop. It’s only when I’m empty, can I rise above the anxiety leaving the worries far below me. It’s not until he stops that I realise Master John has been caressing my chest. I walk to the front door with confidence, I feel like I’m floating and weightless. A small average looking man stands waiting. I hate him, I hate them all but right now it didn’t seem to matter. He followed me to my room. I’m all too aware of his beady eyes burning into my contoured denim clad bottom. He’s already paid, so I ask him what he wants to do. I lie on the bed, stomach first. He awkwardly straddles me, his dick already hard as a poker. I am being undressed slowly. My dick is still soft. He tells me to get hard and I start to fill out. My erection throbs, hard and stiff trapped beneath my belly and the bed. I’m dimly aware of Graham exploring my asshole. I begin choosing from my extensive repertoire of appropriate pleasure noises. Graham likes my guttural moans, his tongue slobbers at my ass inexpertly.
“Oh…. Graham!” I exclaim breathlessly with a carefully timed gasp.
I can feel the splatter of cum as it hits my lower back. I shoot my orgasm into the duvet with practiced efficiency.
The Present Day— John
John sat at his own desk, accounts spread in front of him. The money he was making was extraordinary but nothing bored him as much as keeping track of his money. He had a good mind to make Eric do them, naked of course. He picked up the exercise jotter sitting to the left of him. It looked so innocent from the outside, just an ordinary navy notepad. You would never have known that an slave’s downfall was written inside. In fact Eric had filled out almost the entire pad; John counted the remaining pages…only 9 pages to go. There were muffled moans coming from the other bedroom. Erik was getting better, his moan almost sounded convincing! John hadn’t read any of Eric’s diary entries for a long time: not since his classmate wrote the first few entries. At the time, it was just another method of control. Poor Eric had no choice but to spill his inner most thoughts on paper. Humiliation was as good a revenge as any. Of course, he had long ago stopped hating Eric. The bully who made his life hell, didn’t exist anymore. John for a laugh decided to flick through the diary. He stopped at a random page and began to read…
Friday, 17th of April— Eric
It’s Tuesday night and Master John is driving me to an appointment. I haven’t met this one before, but if he’s anything like the others, he’ll be old, fat or ugly. Not that it makes a difference if they he were good looking or not, these faggots disgust me. After six months, while it still sickens me when I’m compelled to suck a cock or rim a guy’s ass: a small part of me has fallen into dull acceptance. I know there is nothing I can do to fight it, no choice but to see out my two year sentence and then maybe I’d get a chance to kill that little prick!
We arrive at this really sleazy motel. I can see the way people in the car park look at me; they think im some faggot whore…and they’re right. It’s a cold spring evening and I’m wearing an unbuttoned shirt and jeans a size too small. I knock on the door of room nine and unsurprisingly an overweight guy with tattoos answers. I feel sick as he beckoned me in, a hand already cupping my ass. I pray that he just want a hand job but he asks me to suck his cock. I kneel down and unbutton his trousers, his dick hits me in the face. I accept it without even a twitch of demurral. I’m blowing him but I want to bite down and make him bleed. He cums pretty quickly and I swallow it all. He asks me if I liked it, I breathlessly tell him he’s the best I’ve ever had. He chuckles, he knows it bullshit. We lie in the bed and he strokes my chest. He tells me his name is Jeff and that he’s a lorry driver, I zone out for a bit, while my voice flatters him with appropriate responses that Master John programmed into me. I’m finding it easier to mentally detach myself from my senses, It comes in handy when your body is not your own. I hear myself agreeing to let him fuck me for one hundred. Getting fucked is the one thing I hate more than anything. I try and zone out again but he has already bent me over the bed. He lubes my hole at least, sometimes they don’t bother. His large sweaty hands grasp my hips and he squeezes inside me. The pain is intense but as he keeps thrusting it eventually evens out. He reaches round to fondle my obliging dick, which is painfully hard. It doesn’t even feel like a part of me, like the rest of my body it belongs to Master John. I cum when Jeff does, again I feel his semen squirt inside me. He leans against me; his flabby stomach resting against my back. Cum still dribbling my my behind, I start getting dressed. The way Jeff looks at me, I already know I’ll see him again. He’s infatuated with me, they always are. He’ll become a regular. I pocket the money and walk back to the car. Master John is waiting; he takes the money and kisses me on the cheek. He tells me I have only one more appointment today. It’s an easier one though: just some weirdo who likes to be pissed on. He passes me a large bottle of water and orders my not to use the toilet until the appointment. Master John tells me about an apartment we are going to rent with the money. He tells me im going to drop out of school because of the fights I‘ve been getting into with my old gang. A few months ago I would have cared but ever since that incident with Chris, my friends have all deserted me…
Present Day— John
John stopped reading. It was incredible, reading Eric’s painfully honest thoughts made him super hard. In fact he’d forgotten all about the incident with Chris Bletchley. The stupid shit needed to watch what he’s said in front of Eric. The poor slave boy was likely to take any sexual command literally… John flipped back through the journal until he found the entry he was looking for…
Tuesday, 9th of January— Eric
…hadn‘t spoke to Chris for ages. He was the guy I had been best mates with in the group. The guys were like my family, we did everything together. Since I had been hypnotised, I had no choice but to follow Master John around instead like a doting fucking dog. My mates were confused, they didn’t know what Master John had done, how could they possibly know I was trapped inside my own body. Today I had just left the library, when I ran into Chris. He asked me what the hell was going on but all I could say was how great Master John was. The look on his face said it all, he thought I‘d gone insane. Lana Hardy, my old girlfriend waved at us as she passed us in the empty corridor. Chris was momentarily distracted and I could see why. She was looking hot. “Fuck me, he said nudging me, “I wouldn’t mind a piece of that!”
Why did he have to say it like that?! My face went blank as my body received a new sexual order. My body started to prepare itself to complete it. Already I could fel my body diverted blood to my dick. It wasn’t long before my school trousers bulged obscenely. Chris was too busy ogling Lana to notice any change. I wanted to warn him, there was nothing I could do. Finally as Lana disappeared, He turned back towards me. The words look like they’d died in his throat when he noticed my packed crotch. I unzipped my fly and let my 8 inch erection slip out the hole. I couldn’t have been any harder if Scarlet Johansson had been giving me head.
“What the fuck” he yelled, his eyes were nearly popping out of his head. He told me to put it away but my cock was already primed to fuck him. I wanted him to see the conflict behind my eyes; we had been friends since kindergarten. He must realise this wasn’t me! I grabbed him roughly and, pinned him face first against the wall. My body felt strong, it shouldn’t have been possible for a 5ft 9 guy to pin someone almost 6ft 5. I could tell he was shocked by my inexplicable strength, he kicked at me but I couldn’t didn’t feel it. My hypnotised cock still jabbed hungrily at his still covered ass.
“GET THE FUCK OFF ME YOU FUCKING PERVERT”, he screamed. It was horrible; I had never heard Chris scared before. I ripped off his school trousers and then pulled his underwear down his legs. My hands were occupied spreading his milky white ass cheeks so Chris used that moment to escape. His arm freed, he elbowed me in the nose. The pain felt very distant, I was still focused on fucking his ass. He punched me again and I fell over, blood now gushing down my face. I couldn’t see, blood everywhere, Chris’s ass disappeared back beneath his clothes. He was panting heavily and his face was the colour of paper. I tried to stand up, my dick still engorged but he punched me in the stomach and I fell backwards onto the floor. I must have lost consciousness because when I woke up Chris had gone and Master John was standing over me with a frown on his face…
Present Day— John
John chuckled to himself, he remembered that day well. Poor Eric’s sexual obedience accidentally triggered by his friend. The fall out from that incident was intense. Not long after that, John had to pull Eric from school. He was coming home back and blue with cuts and bruises, it was impacting on John’s burgeoning escort business. Anyway, he had been starting to get a bit protective of Eric, that old gang of his needed a lesson in tolerance…and they got one! Actually that was a quite a good story, he skipped forward a few weeks until he reached that glorious day in mid February…