Binky

For a year I lied to myself that I wasn’t smoking a lot, just when I had a drink, between writing chapters of my book, and the odd ocassions when I felt I needed one, but not a lot, not a pack a day like my father used to smoke.  It was the one bad habit, my worst habit, that my new boyfriend Dino hated.  Dino had become my rock in many ways, the healthy one.  He worked as a personal trainer, that’s how we met, and he always told me he worked so hard that he didn’t want to poison himself, aside from a few drinks.  He’d give me this look when he walked in on me in the office or when I stepped out of a bar or some event we were at together to have one.  It all built up to this one day as I sat typing I could hear him in the other room playing videogames with his friend Kyle.  I went to take one out and realized I had a few left so with it between my lips I walked out to find them on the couch.

They were sat in diapers and t-shirts, controllers in their hands.  Their feet conspicuously off the floor.  Kyle looked up to me for a moment then looked back to the TV where he continued to play as he crinkled his nose.  Dino did the same but he also waved his hand back and forth in front of his and faked a cough.  “Sorry,” I said before I held it behind my back, “but I’m really onto something.  Would you run out and get me some smokes?”  Dino rolled his eyes.  Kyle whispered something in his ear.  They both laughed.  I wanted to ask what was so funny but stopped myself.  “How about it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Please,” I begged.

“Well, what do you think Kyle?”

“I think we could use some snacks.”

“So it’s a deal?”

“Hmmph,” Dino replied.

“What?” I asked.

“I don’t like encouraging you to smoke.”

“You’re not encouraging me.  It’s more like I’m feeding a habit, one I had before we met, so it’s not like you should feel responsible.  I promise I’ll quit when I finish this book.”

I took out my wallet and pulled out a twenty dollar bill.  I stepped into the room to handed it to him and they both chuckled.

“What’s going on guys?” I asked.

“You’re standing on lava Mr. Butters,” Kyle said.

“Oh is that all,” I replied, “well use the rest for snacks.”

Dino took the money and pocketed it.  He had his own cash, his own job, but it didn’t feel right for him to pay for my cigarettes and at least this way they’d get something at the corner store.  I walked out of the room and back to my office where I sat at my desk and began to type.  I barely heard them leave the apartment, for a little while the silence annoyed me so I took out my headphones and put on some music in the background to listen to while continued to type and smoke like a chimney.  I was really into it.  I had this hope of completing my first novel.  I typed away for hours, smoked all of my cigarettes and it was only when I ran out that I wondered when they’d return.  I picked up the box, crumpled it, dropped it on top of my basket next to my desk that was full of balls of paper, all of them previous incarnations and notes of what I was writing.

When the front door of the apartment was opened I looked up as if I had heard the greatest sound in the world.  It was Dino and he was alone.  He had bags in his hands.  I could smell food.  Like a hungry dog I went out to find him in the dining room with a bag of fast food in the middle and several bags in hand that he carried away into the living room before I could see what was in them.  He kept looking at me the entire time so I knew he was trying to keep a secret from me.  I opened the bag and took out a fry.  It was still hot.  He rejoined me and sat across the table from me.

Cigarettes were no longer on my mind.  I was hungry.  So we sat and ate, made small talk.  I asked him what happened to Kyle and he told me that he’d gone home.  I tried to talk to him about anything except for my smokes.  But when we finished eating, as I licked the congealed bun and meat from my teeth, washed it away with the cold, sweet pop I had that urge again.

“So um,” I said.

“Yes?”

“What did you buy?  Did you buy me anything?”

“Maybe,” he replied coyly.

“What is it?”

“It’s a little bit of a secret.”

“When do I get to find out?”

“Come in the living room and I’ll show you, but you have to behave yourself,” he said.

This was a bit of an unusual thing for him.  He wasn’t one for secrets, neither was I.  In fact honesty and sharing was the best thing we had together.  I felt like I could tell him anything.  I felt like he knew he could tell me anything.  We wouldn’t judge.  We wouldn’t condemn.  We’d try to figure it out.  The ‘behave yourself’ part though was especially unique.  Usually I was the one who liked to start games like this.  I loved to surprise him and I usually took control of things.  It was turning me on a little so I followed after him into the living room.  He motioned for me to stand between the coffee table and the TV.  This really would be a surprise, I thought.  The bags were down on the floor, partially hidden from sight.  But instead of opening them he pulled his phone from his pocket and set it down on the coffee table facing me.

“What’s going on?  What’d you buy me?”

“Before I show you, here’s the cigarettes you asked for-” -he pulled the pack out and held them up- “-but if you want them we make a deal first.  You have to sign this contract on my phone.  It’s to quit smoking, but it’s not just any contract.  There are rules.  And there are punishments if you break them.  Kyle and I thought it up while we were out shopping.  The first one is that while you’re smoking you have to be obedient to me.  I know it’s usually the other way around.  I know how much you like to be the dominant one.  I like it when you are.  But, I’m worried for your health.  If you sign, then this is your last pack.  After this we work to wean you off.”

“How obedient?  What do you have planned for me to be doing?  I’m not really into sex slave contracts.  I’m not just going to do everything.”

“I know.  It’ll be a negotiation, but trust me, I have a plan for you.”

“What if I don’t sign?”

“I’ll love you the same, but you have to go buy your own and you can’t have what’s in the bag.”

“Is it something fun?”

“Maybe,” he said with a mischievous grin.

“Will I like it?”

“Possibly,” he said.

He was even more coy.  This was entertaining to him as I stood there in front of him at his mercy.  He had my cigarettes.  Yes, I could go buy them but I wanted one right then.  But more than anything I wanted to please him.  I wanted to stop even if it was only for him.  I shifted on my feet, tried to scratch at the back of one calf with my other foot.

“What exactly do you have in mind?”

“You could read the contract and find out,” he answered.

I looked into his eyes.  There were written contracts between men, I thought, the best ones though in principle are an agreement between two people.  There shouldn’t be anything in there that I couldn’t live with, nothing to hold over me that would keep me in complete submission.   That wasn’t the deal in our relationship.  Often I took the dominant role in the bedroom and in life, he was like a guiding hand who reassured, questioned, and helped me plan, but this, handing over power to him.  It was embarrassing and thrilling at the same time.  I felt the sweat run down from my shoulders and pool at the small of my back.  Okay, I thought as I blew out an exasperated sigh and bent down to sign, but as I did I couldn’t really see the words.  He dropped the pack on the table.  I got down on my knees to examine it more closely.  He twirled the pack.  I scrolled to the bottom.  There was the space to sign my name.  I did it.  I licked my lips as I reached for the pack, but he pulled it away.

“What’s going on?”

He took back his phone, saved the file, and he had the biggest grin on his face.  He put the pack in his pocket as well, then he leaned down with his elbows on his knees and looked me in the eyes.

“Did you really think it was going to be that easy?”

“Well yeah,” I replied.  “Let me have just one.”

“Nope, not until afterwards.”

“After what?”

“We have some things to take care of as part of the contract.  These cigarettes, I decide when and how many you smoke.  That’s the first rule.  You really should have read the contract.”

“Wait, let me see it again,” I said.

“Nope, now it’s time for you to be obedient.”

“If I had known that I wouldn’t have signed.  Maybe I should just go and get my own.”

“And break your word?  We made a deal.”

“Hey look,” I said, “if I knew I wouldn’t get one or that you’d be the one in control I wouldn’t have done it.  You tricked me.”

“You tricked yourself, now, let’s get one thing clear.  I’m in control now.  You will do what I say, when I say, how I say, until you stop this filthy habit.  I’m going to hold you to it.  Didn’t I mention there would be punishments for disobedience?”

“But-”

He waved off my rebuttal and instead he picked up the bags from the floor and put them on the table in front of me.  He looked inside them and his grin gave way to giggling and laughter.  I was doomed, I thought as I lowered my head in regret.  But then I felt it, my erection, as I shifted a little I felt harder than I had been in a long time, so hard it parted the fly of my boxer briefs and was right up against my jeans and leaking.  The sensitive tip rubbed course material.

“Actually, let’s go to the bathroom first,” he said.  “But before we do I want you to stand up and strip off all your clothing.”

I let out a grunt and sigh as I got to my feet.  I looked up to him, then back down to my feet as I slowly unbuttoned my shirt.  Normally it was no big deal to be naked but this was the first time he was telling me to strip in such a dominant way.  If he did it other times it was seductive but this.  I felt my fingers tremble a little as I undid the buttons.  I didn’t know if it was the lack of nicotine or some genuine fear but I did it.  I pulled the flaps out of my jeans, pulled it from my shoulders, then dropped it on the floor.  Next was my belt.  I unfastened it, pulled it from the loops, dropped it.  I unbuttoned my jeans, unzipped them.  My hard dick was right there.  He laughed a little, amused this was turning me on.  I tucked it away, pulled my jeans down and off, dropped them on the pile I was creating.  My socks, foot to foot, I took them off, let them fall.  Last was my underwear.

Being naked shouldn’t be so humiliating, I thought, we’ve screwed in every room.  He’s seen me naked so many times.  I’ve seen him naked.  We’ve chased each other around, well no, I’ve chased him around with our erections bouncing, but this was something different.  This wasn’t sex and I wasn’t in control.  I was stripping for him as he sat there fully clothed.  I put my thumbs in the waistband, began to pull the fabric down.  I felt it slip over my ass, tug at my hard dick and made it bob up and down, over my knees, down around my ankles, one foot out then the other and they were off.  I dropped them too.  I looked up to him.  He shook his head.

“Such a messy boy,” he said.  “You would never let me make such a mess with my clothes.”

“I didn’t know what to do with them,” I said apologetically, “please, I’ll just pick-”

“Don’t bother, not right now, that’ll be one of your punishments later.  Right now I want you in the bathroom.  You’ve been at your desk all day and need a bath.”

He led the way.  I walked behind him with my dick bobbing with each step, through the hallway, into the bathroom.  He sat on the edge of the tub and turned the spigot, hot water poured out.  He plugged the drain and looked to me.  Without realizing it I had began to stand like I was ashamed.  There I was in front of my long time boyfriend and I was ashamed.  He adjusted the water.

“While we’re waiting I want you to stand with your hands behind your head and your feet apart.  Smoking is a bad and filthy habit. You’ve been a bad boy, very naughty.  If you’re going to grow up to be a man we’re going to have to regress you first so that we can make sure you deserve your privileges.  The first thing we’re going to do while the tub fills up is we’re going to cut your hair.”

“Wait I-”

“Are you being disobedient?  You already have a punishment for leaving your clothes on the floor and making such a mess.  Do you want to add to it?”

“No sir,” I mumbled.

“What was that?”

“No sir,” I said in a louder, clearer voice.

“Good,” he replied, “now let’s get that shaver.”

Being shaved was the easy part, all of my body hair, from head to pubes to toe, all fell on the floor.  He turned off the water after it had filled partially, looked back to me, motioned with his head for me to step into it.  I sunk down on my knees first, my butt cheeks opened and barely touched the water.  As my body adapted I sunk down into it until I was comfortable and I looked up to see him with a hand towel and bar of soap.  This was new.  I hadn’t used bar soap in ages.  I figured he intended to give me a thorough scrubbing.  He lathered up the bar until suds ran down over his wrists, down his forearms, and all of the way to his elbows.

“Open,” he said.

I knew at once what he meant.  He wanted to stick the bar of soap in my mouth.  It was the punishment I hated the most as a child.  I could take a spanking but soap, bleh, it tasted so bad.   I clenched my jaw and shook my head.

“Open,” he repeated as he moved it closer to my face. He pressed it against my lips, forced them apart and into my teeth.  That felt worse.  I opened my mouth and he stuck it inside.  I closed without biting down.  He shook his head.

“You’re only making it worse on yourself.  Now I’m going to have to give you an additional punishment for that mouth of yours.  I thought soaping it would do the trick but no, you have to refuse, well, I guess I’m going to have to think up something else, maybe a second spanking.”

“But-” I tried to speak with a mouthful of soap, the suds went down my throat and I choked a little, tried to spit it out but he held it there.

I could feel it on my tongue, a thick gunk, and the way it dissolved, filled the spaces under my molars.  My instinct was the pull in my cheeks to stop it from spreading but all it did was cause the suds to run down my throat.  It hit my stomach and I felt the urge to spit it out but he held it there so I just closed my eyes, let it happen.  I could feel it inside of me.  But it wasn’t just the soap, it was the feeling of being naked in the tub to our apartment, shaved, my mind was reeling but more than anything I felt this anger but all I could do was cry.  He pulled the soap from my mouth, my lips sputtered and I tried to spit more out.  He took hold of the back of my head and pulled me to his shoulder.  I cried and cried into his neck.  For a moment I felt relief, felt normal, but then he touched me, he touched my chest, slid it down over my stomach and for the first time he touched my penis.  And it was hard.

“Good boy,” he said, “but do you still want a cigarette?”

“Yes,” I said.

He pulled away from me and looked at me with a cross glare.  He raised the bar of soap again.

“You’ve been smoking for so long it’s ruined your teeth and I’m afraid I’m going to have to wash it out again.”  I squealed in fear.  But he continued to hold the back of my head and slowly, deliberately he moved the bar towards me and into my mouth.  “From now on that’s yes sir,” he said, “do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” I said around the bar in my mouth.

He pulled it out.

“What was that?”

“Yes sir,” I said.

“Good, I think we’re done with this for now.  Now we can put it to its more popular and more favorite use, getting your body clean.”

He touched my chest again and for a moment my body recoiled until it realized it had no place to go and instead I just sat there as he washed me.  Face, chest, arm pits, stomach, he washed them twice before he made me get up on my knees.  He washed my thighs first, then he washed my balls and my hard dick, and just when I felt enthused to try and push back against his hand for more pleasure he spanked me lightly on the butt and I opened my eyes to see he had an amused smirk on his face.

“This isn’t so bad,” he said.

“Yeah, but normally I’m the one who washes you,” I said.

He spanked me again.

“Sir,” I spat out.

He spanked me again.

“I’m sorry sir, normally I’m the one who washes you sir,” I said.

“Better,” he replied, “I know it’ll take some getting used to.”

Next was the shampoo, but since I didn’t have much hair on my head it was easy to do.  I rested my bum on my ankles as he finished washing off the soap.  I smiled.  He smiled.  But I could feel it, the craving for a cigarette.  I looked down into the water, then back up with my best puppy dog eyes.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I want a smoke, like really bad.  It’s been a couple of hours, just one, please sir.”

“Okay, we can do that,” he said, “after I get your dried off.”

He told me to stand then took a towel from the cabinet.  He dried me thoroughly, then had me step out before he wrapped it around my waist.  I could feel the knot on my hip and looked around for more clothing.  He put one arm around my shoulder and ushered me out into the living room where he picked up a bag.  He pulled out a brand new pack of white briefs.

“I don’t wear those,” I said, “sir.”

“Well, it’s these or that towel,” he said.

“What do you mean, sir?”

“No more smoking inside.  For tonight I’ll let you smoke on the balcony, but in the future you’ll have to go down to the parking lot to do it.  And you’re not allowed to litter, you have to save your butts.”  He pulled out a small, pink box.  It was for jewelry but now I’d be using it to collect the filters.  I groaned at it before I really thought about it.  He smirked.  “Normally I wouldn’t use pink to embarrass someone but in this case it’ll be cute.”

“Cute sir?”

“Well, for me, now have you decided is it going to be briefs or the towel?”

“For the balcony?  People will see me.”

“No laws will be broken.  You still want that cigarette and you can’t smoke inside.”

“Okay, the towel,” I said.

Briefs were too form fitting, I thought as I looked down to the towel only to realize it was one of the thin white ones and I could clearly see my penis against the cloth.  I groaned and asked for briefs but he shook his head.  I watched as he opened the pack of cigarettes.  I loved that feeling, opening a fresh pack and the smell of them, something like fresh raisins.  He took one out, then he walked me over to the sliding door and out onto the balcony.  It had gotten dark outside, the sun had set and it was probably ten o’clock at night but there were still a few people around.  We lived in those apartment buildings with the parking underneath in stalls.  There was a lane between the buildings but people were always walking by as the basketball courts were very popular.  I looked to him and he placed it between my lips.

“Oops, I forgot the lighter,” he said.

I moaned and he smacked my bum before walking off to get one.  There I stood on the balcony in just a towel with an unlit cigarette between my lips as I listened carefully for anyone to walk in front.  He came back a few moments later.  He held up the lighter and lit it for me.  It was a welcome feeling and yet to be standing there as I was, no pack in hand, no lighter.  He had done everything, it felt so humiliating, but in the end I felt I’d do almost anything for a drag.  He watched me intently.

“I’d give anything for a dry martini,” I said.

And without really thinking about it I had slipped out of the role of being subordinate to him as we stood in the partial darkness.  It was only when a car turned the corner and I was briefly caught in headlights that I looked down over myself and remembered the towel I was wearing and I saw him.  He wasn’t just staring at me.  He was waiting.

“Sir,” I said.

“Too late,” he replied and took the cigarette from my mouth.

I watched as he stubbed it out on the banister then held out the pink box towards me.  I took it, opened it, then watched as he placed the cigarette inside.  He promptly closed it and took the box out of my hands.  I looked him in the eyes as best I could.  He stared back.

“It’s not fair,” I said.

“You’re killing yourself.  How’s that fair to me?”

“But-”

And that’s when things took an unexpected turn.  He snatched the towel from around my waist and before I knew it I was down over his lap.  There I was, one grown man over another grown man’s lap naked and full exposed to all of our neighbors, the towel on the grating floor.  He made sure I was in place before he laid into me with his hand.  He gave me several hard, sharp spanks.  It was enough to put me back in my place.

“Please sir,” I begged.

“Please sir what?”

“I’m sorry sir, I didn’t mean to be a brat.  I know what I’m doing is wrong.  Please sir, can we go inside for this?”

He stopped spanking me.  His hand settled on my bum.  I could feel his fingers linger in my crack as he massaged my flesh.  Normally it would be the other way around.  Often for some trivial but intentional offense, something that we had talked about in correcting his behavior, but there I was naked and exposed.  He swatted me a few more times but when I started to unintentionally get louder with each one he stopped and pulled me from his lap.  I stood in front of him, my hand went back to feel my butt and it was already beginning to warm.  But worse than anything was my dick because I had left it exposed so I tried to cover it with one hand as I continued to rub with the other.  He shook his head then stood and pulled me by the wrist inside our apartment.  He closed the sliding doors behind us but in a way it was worse because now the room was lit and there I stood naked in front of glass.  He quickly closed the blinds to the door but I could still feel it, this kind of ghost, this feeling that I had been exposed, not just me, not just my penis, my shaved body, but my behavior and that my boyfriend spanked me.  He smirked to me then motioned with his finger for me to follow him to the couch where he sat and patted his lap.  I stepped to him, lowered myself, and he pulled me into position.

His hand on my butt, he stroked the sore flesh, cupped the curve of it, let me know just how naked and vulnerable I was to him.  He pulled back his hand and I knew it was coming, high over his shoulder there would be no stopping it.  He spanked me the first time and I let out a grunt.  The pain was negligible.  I barely felt it.  He struck again, then again and again, each time the feeling lingered a little longer and it spread.  There were two patches of pain on my butt, one for each cheek, but the pain spread through my body too, from my toes to my fingertips.  I breathed this quick, shallow gasps as I groaned, the pressure of my chest on his lap, I could feel myself as this weight, especially when I kicked up my feet and began to squirm.

“Keep still,” he said.

I froze for a moment, held my breath, and he laid into me some more until my hands were clenched into tight balls and my toes curled up, then he stopped and he lay his soothing hand on my bum.  I hadn’t begun to cry but I could feel it there lingering in me, this pain, not just physical but emotional.  He rubbed my butt carefully, the feeling that had spread through my body came back to the one spot for a moment.  He took hold of my arm and pulled me up to my feet.  I knew my face was red, my eyes were watery.  I looked down to him as I instinctively reached back to rub my cheek with one hand.  He smirked at me.

“But first,” he reached into the bag and pulled out the last thing.  It was a pacifier.  He held it up for me to see before he opened the package.

“What’s that sir?”

“It’s your new pacifier.  Instead of cigarettes you’re going to be sucking on this.”

“But sir-”

“I’m going to plant your feet in the corner until you’ve calmed down and guess what, that’s only round one.  Do you understand me?”

“Round one?” I pleaded, “sir,” I eked out.

“Bend down and open up,” he said.

I did.  He put the pacifier between my lips.

“This is your binky,” he said.  I groaned.  “Well, you still have your dirty clothes on the floor and we forgot your towel outside.  Go ahead and pick up your clothes and put them on the coffee table.”

I stepped away from him to where my clothes were.  I squatted down, fully aware of my balls hanging loose between my thighs, my cheeks parted and cool air hit my butthole.  I felt it again, this pain, and for a moment tears leaked out.  I wiped them away with the back of my hand before I picked up my clothes and set them on the table.  He cleared his throat and I knew at once that I had made a mistake so I carefully folded them, then put them back into place.  He got up and moved behind me, put a hand on my head and brushed over my hair.

“It’s okay boy, I’ll allow you that one mistake, but know that I expect better of you next time.  Are you ready for your second cigarette?”

Already, I thought, but the truth is I really needed one, especially a full one, so I nodded.  He took hold of my ear, pulled me up, then walked me to the corner.  He took one from the pack and held it where the walls met, then he pulled me right to it so my nose held it in place.  He rubbed my butt, rubbed my shoulders, rubbed my head.  It was so humiliating.  I began to cry.  When I tried to wipe away the tears he stopped me and told me, “hands at your side or on your head.”  My cigarette was right there but I couldn’t just smoke it.  It wasn’t mine.  Instead I had this pacifier, this binky in my mouth.

He walked away.  I heard him move through the apartment for the next ten minutes or so.  He put my clothes away, tidied up something or other, put the bags from the store away, then I heard it.  He was in the kitchen and he opened a drawer, moved some cooking utensils around.  He was looking for something.  I breathed deep through my nose and held my breath.  He was getting the spoon.  We had only used it a few times, well I had used it on him, just a little game when we were in the kitchen, but I heard the drawer slam closed and I knew he had it and he was going to use it on me.  He began to whistle as he walked back into the living room.  He set it down behind me on the coffee table, the familiar sound of wood on wood.  He walked over to where I stood and told me to take the cigarette I was holding up so I did.  He placed a hand on my shoulder to usher me back out to the balcony.

There I was completely naked, my butt red, my face red, and crying a little.  He took the pacifier out of my mouth, then the cigarette from my fingers and placed it between my lips.  He lit it.  I took a long drag, welcomed the feel of it, the way it burned and tasted, plus the rush of it.  He pulled me to him as he sat on one of the two chairs out there.  The last time it had been down over his lap for a spanking but this time he was being kinder, gentler as he pulled me along and he sat me on his knee.  I could instantly feel the pain in my butt though it wasn’t so bad, it was almost negligible the way my thighs held most of my weight.  His hand went to the small of my back and I carefully blew the smoke away from him.  He rubbed up my spine to my shoulders in this soothing way so I just relaxed, my knees wide, my arm went around his shoulders behind his head.  His other hand ran up my thigh, over where my pubes used to be and to my stomach where he slowly stroked until I stopped crying.

This time he let me smoke the whole thing and after he stubbed it out, then placed it in the pink box before replaced the binky in my mouth.  He led me back inside with the towel in hand.  He gave it to me and told me to take it to the bathroom hamper so I said, “yes sir,” and I began to move when he took hold of my arm.  “And bring back the bath brush,” he said.  I swallowed hard at that.  But my feet moved on their own.  I walked to the bathroom, put the towel in the hamper, retrieved the bath brush from inside the medicine cabinet.  It wasn’t until I got back and I saw him sitting there that I remembered the wooden spoon and there it was on the coffee table in front of him.  I walked to him, handed him the brush.  He patted the cushion next to him which took me by surprise, but it meant I wasn’t going to be spanked right away so I sat.  He reached to me, rubbed the back of my head, then he placed his arm around my shoulders.

“Smoking is more than a bad habit,” he said, “it’s dangerous.  You know it isn’t safe right bud?”

He took out the pacifier, set it on the table.

“Yes sir,” I said.

“So we’re going to try and break you of that habit, but I can see that you have some other bad habits as well so we’re going to work on those too.  You know I care for you right and I only want what’s best for you?”

“Yes sir,” I said.

“Good, because this next part is going to be very painful.  I know you’re going to feel like giving up, it’s going to be unbearable at times, but it’s also going to be good for you.  You need this.  I know you’re usually the spanker instead of the spankee but it’s time we dealt with these issues.  Do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” I replied.

He moved his hand up to the back of my head again, turned my head to face his.  I looked him in the eyes and for a moment I could see a little bit of pain, but then he became stoic as he looked at me and I felt it.  I felt his connection to me.  There I sat completely naked, but we were two adults, and yet I felt this need within me.  I wanted it.  I wanted to change my ways.  I wanted to be spanked.  I wanted to feel that pain and that relief.  He rubbed the back of my head and I knew he wanted to ask me again if I understood.  Instinctively I began to speak.

“Please sir, I know it’ll be painful but I need this,” I said, “I need to feel it.  I’ve been doing things so wrong for a while now, not just the smoking but that’s the most important part.  I know it’s important for me to change my ways.  I want you to spank me.”

He reached over with his other hand and wiped away some of the spilled tears with is hand before he pulled me back over his lap.  He adjusted himself and put me in place so that it was easy to hold my arms out of the way.  I felt him shift, his hand high in the air.  He struck me with the hair brush.  It was different than his hand.  His hand gave a little to the shape of my butt, the hairbrush did not.  Each time it pushed into my cheeks it dented the flesh.  Just within a few strokes the pain radiated out again, up my spine all of the way to my hands, all of the way to my toes.  He struck all over my round cheeks until I thought I couldn’t take anymore.  I began to cry.  I squirmed and moaned but he held me in place.

Just as I was about to disassociate from it he stopped.  My head throbbed, my body ached.  He pulled me out from under his arm, pulled me to my feet.  My hands went to my butt as I danced from foot to foot I rubbed away until the pain was almost gone then I felt it again.  My little dick and balls bounced back and forth as I shifted to try and find some comfortable spot.  There was none.  He picked up the pacifier as he stood so I opened my mouth.  I bit down on it.

“Back to the corner,” he said as he pointed the way.

I felt snot leaking from my nose so I wiped it with the back of my hand as I walked, then I carefully used the palms to wipe away tears.  My jaw began to jitter.  I put my nose in the corner, let my hands fall to my sides.  All over my body my skin turned pink.  I could feel it, this warmth all over me, it was so intense.  He got up, walked to me.  For a moment I thought he would touch me to try and comfort me but he didn’t.  He just stood there.  He watched me sulk for a moment, then he walked away.  I was alone.  I knew I couldn’t move from that spot.  And he let me stay there that time until my muscles began to ache, which wasn’t that long, then he came back and got me.  He led me back over to the couch, took out binky and put it on the table, swapped it for the spoon.  He pulled me down over his lap, this time he told me to plant my hands firmly on the ground which tipped me at an angle so that my butt and my thighs were vulnerable.  The spoon was quick and sharp.  I could no longer feel him move too much just to hit me.  It was little, recurring spikes of pain in my flesh as if I had been stuck by a thorn.

Over his knee, my hands planted firmly on the floor, I was beginning to feel the pain in my butt cheeks and I was covered in sweat.  It was everywhere on me, even the crack of my butt and right down at my asshole.  He was really taking to whacking my butt.  I shook my head, balled my feet, any little thing to remind myself that I was in control of my body, but I knew I wasn’t because there I was naked with my little dick and balls hung loose as I was being spanked.  He controlled every bit of it too.  He would stop when he wanted, not me, it wasn’t my choice.  He meant to make me feel pain and I knew it.  He stopped and for a moment I thought it was over, but then he rubbed my flesh.

“Now for this next set I want you to say, ‘thank you sir, may I have another sir’ and we’re going to do that until I’ve felt you’ve had enough.”

“Yes sir,” I said.

He spanked me and when my response didn’t come fast enough he did it again and harder.

“Thank you sir, may I have another sir!”

“Good start, let’s see how long you can keep that up,” he replied.

And that was exactly it.  It was this seemingly unending cycle.  I knew he wanted me to keep saying it, again and again, no matter how much my arms ached, no matter how my thighs throbbed, no matter how much my butt hurt.  He wanted to break me.  So I just kept saying it over and over even when my mouth went dry, when the words barely escaped my throat, until I was crying and heaving so much I couldn’t even form the noises in my chest.

Tears fell from my face and down onto my hands.  He stopped and pulled me up to him.  I lay on him, my head on his shoulders as I wept and heaved until I was empty.  He held onto me through all of it.  He held onto me as I trembled and shook.  He took hold of the back of my head and whispered soothing sounds into my ear.  I didn’t want a cigarette ever again at that moment, not if that was the price I’d pay.  He held me even when I fell asleep.

Some time later, I’m not sure how long, I awoke to find myself on my side on the couch with my feet on his lap, a thin blanket over me.  I turned over and looked down to him.  He almost looked as if he’d been spanked too and I knew at once he felt this pain for me for what he’d done.  I couldn’t quite say it but as I moved to him, as I sat up he leaned to me and we kissed on the lips as he stroked my face. When he started to pull away I pulled him closer and down on top of me.  He laid fully clothed on me, a blanket between us as we kissed.   I pulled his shirt from him and he was quick to take off his pants as I wrapped the blanket around both of us and pulled him into me again.  I could feel my hard dick and his as well but neither of us wanted sex right then, we just wanted to hold each other.  We kissed until we got tired, then he rolled me onto my side again and pressed his body along mine.  We fell asleep together and for the first time in a long time I felt safe and happy, and I didn’t feel the need to smoke, at least not right then.

Hard Sell Pt 07 - Fitting

That night after having his hole so thoroughly stretched by the massage therapist Mark showered and went to bed alone but very much thinking about Oliver.  They had sent a few text messages back and forth, an escalation of teasing and flirtation that had him falling asleep with his cum covered dick on one hand and his phone in the other as he relived and attempted to memorize everything that had been done to him.  A few times he’d slip a finger down to his hole just to see if it had regained its shape, it did but he didn’t feel the same.

Never before had his body been pushed so far, his senses maximized.  And the way Brad used him afterwards, fucked his throat.  If he closed his eyes he could still smell the sweat of him, his nuts resting on his upper lip.  He had been tempted to ask the man to stay.  He wanted a warm body in his bed, someone to cuddle with and talk to, whisper in his ear and maybe play with, but the man showed no interest as they sat on the couch together.  It was done.  He had gotten what he wanted.

The energy in the room was different.  Something had been accomplished, something had been gained.  He wanted to know more but at the same time he didn’t because it wasn’t much different than an anonymous hookup from an app or some guy he met at a bar or a club.  

Did the man have someone at home?  Was he paid for the service?  Mark didn’t ask any of those questions and decided to be content with the experience.  He watched the man carefully after he finished his beer and got up to find his clothes, the way his muscles moved and his skin stretched as he cleaned all of the dildos in the sink and put everything in his bag.  He walked him to the door and that was it.

The next morning he awoke with morning wood like few times ever in his life.  It wasn’t just the biological action of his body, the effect of needing to pee, no he was horny and wanting someone, something.  He rolled onto his back and tugged one out quickly before going to the shower.  Sex was on his mind as he got ready, as he ate breakfast, as he drove to work, and even as he sat down at his desk.  A lust had been awakened in him, a lust that had been dormant since college when he thought he realized reality couldn’t live up to fantasy.  And he started feeling the things other people told him to feel about monogamy and romance, tried to live out those stories that ended with marriage and a happily ever after.  Those ideals had always felt like a lie to him, an impossible, impractical standard.  Oliver was different, he had made fantasy into reality, given him sexual experiences not just between the two of them but with other men, scenarios and roles that he always thought he would have to connive out of a partner with some kind of wish list.

Work through the morning was a breeze, a few calls, a few emails, while looking up people on the rolodex of his phone.  He didn’t sell one car by lunch but he was okay with that so he took a deep breath, let his erection subside, and headed out for a bite to eat feeling confident and a little cheeky.  Instead of going to his usual place he went to his reward spot and ordered his favorite food, a casual sit down restaurant known for its quick service.  And for Mark it's cute waiters, young men in form fitting slacks.

Normally he’d sit and drool over the thought of taking one of them over the table and pounding them until he had an orgasm but that day he had not just the opposite fantasy but a more elaborate one, taking all of the waiters, being tied down with his tie and used by each of them in turn.  They’d run a train on him until his hole was dripping and sore, that would be good, he thought.  He was half in fantasy when he got a text message from Oliver.

[How are you feeling?]

He grinned at the message and looked around to make sure he couldn’t recognize anyone then held the phone close and wrote out a response.

[That was amazing.  Brad was a very thorough professional.  I can’t believe all the things he did to me.  I’ve never been used like that.  I’m on Cloud Nine right now.]

He realized he had been holding his breath and exhaled, then focused on his breathing as he waited for a response.

[I’m glad you don’t have any regrets.  Are you up for some more?]

Mark had an erection again and when he noticed the waiter was headed his way looking to clear his plate he waved the man off and looked around to make sure no one was watching him before entering a response.

[I’m up for anything.  In fact I’m having a fantasy right now about these guys at this restaurant I’m at for lunch.]

[Are they doing bad things to you?]

[Very bad.  All of them at the same time.]

[Good to hear you’re starting to think creatively, but we’re not there yet.]

His mood sunk a little at the comment.  Just what was he ready for?  What did Oliver have planned for him?  He bit his lip and sent back a text asking.  He didn’t have to wait long before getting a response.

[You looked cute in that suit and tie you wear.  I’m guessing you’ve got a half dozen shirts, a couple pair of slacks.  But maybe you need a new suit?  Go to my personal tailor, a friend of mine, Q&A Fashion.  I’ll let them know to be expecting you after work.  Make sure to wear clean underwear.]

A new suit?  Clean underwear?  Mark felt his hard dick twitch at the thought of it, move enough to feel the slime trail of his leaking dick in his underwear.  Well, there goes my clean briefs, he thought.  He bit his lip and a moment later he received a text with the address and directions, he read over it a few times, especially the part that said “park around back and enter through rear” because even that was stirring his imagination.  He groaned at the thought of going back to work, another few hours of trying to sell cars before he’d be able to go.  But everything had a cost and he figured he might as well get it over with so he called for the bill.

Back at work Mark made his way to his desk, checked his email, checked his messages and found a few potential customers looking to make appointments for the next couple of days.  He checked his schedule, replied to the emails, called back the few that had left messages.  He looked to the door hoping someone would walk through because he had a few leads but nothing too promising, nothing as good as a sale right then, but he was disappointed when Cody stepped into his vision with a grin on his face.

“Good day?” Mark asked.

“Awesome, just made a sale while you were at lunch.”

“Trying to make me look lazy?”

“I don’t have to try,” Cody replied, “you do it yourself.”

“Very funny, so what, you sold a car while I was out.  One of your regulars?”

“No, that’s the best part.  He came in looking for you.”

“What?”

Mark reeled at the thought of Cody stealing one of his clients.  He crossed his arms and looked to the other man with narrowed, serious eyes.

“In the half hour I was gone you made a sale?”

Cody’s serious face broke into laughter.

“No, I’m just messing with you.  It wasn’t one of yours but yeah, I got him in talking to the finance manager right now to figure out a payment schedule.  But it’s all good, I mean you tried to steal one of mine anyway.”

“What?  Who?”

“Oliver,” Cody replied, “I know you took him for a test drive.”

The test drive?  How it all started, that, he was Cody’s?  Mark shrugged off the accusation.  Even if it were true it still led to the best time of his life.

“Yeah well,” Mark replied.

“It’s all good.  We sell cars.  It’s not like a committed relationship.  But next time, just know, you’re out of the office and someone walks through the door I’ll be on him.  I’ll close the deal whatever it takes.”

Mark thought about Cody doing whatever it takes, running naked around an abandoned airport, driving naked back to the dealership, sucking Oliver off in the car even if it didn’t lead to a sale right then, and he chuckled.

“Think it’s funny?  Well it’ll be your ass,” Cody said before walking away.
Your ass, Mark thought, and laughed again to himself.  And for the rest of the day Mark kept himself busy doing little things while he kept one eye on the door, occasionally he’d see Cody and he’d think, your ass and smirk to himself, but when it came time to leave he was quick to clear his desk and leave.  He put the address in his phone, connected that to his car, then drove.

An hour later, in a section of town he didn’t visit often, Mark took note of the nearby restaurants and bars as he found the place and a nearby parking garage.  He walked the half block back to the front door and paused for a moment.  Was Oliver serious about using the back entrance?  He looked up at the sign.  It had to be the same place, and yet, he thought about it, Oliver hadn’t misled him so far.  He let go of the door handle and walked around the side of the building, down the alley and to the back of the building where he found an ornate wooden door.

Classy, he thought to himself before he pulled it open and stepped through.  An aroma of wood and leather overwhelmed him for a moment as he looked around at what seemed to be an ordinary men’s clothing store: a couple racks of jackets, a display for slacks, against the far wall a shirt display, and even a display for underwear, a mix of classy boxers and those new briefs with the stretchy, clinging fabric.  A few men browsed through the clothes, mostly middle aged, one of them with his much younger boyfriend.  Mark spotted the register and the well dressed cashier behind it ringing up a purchase for one of the men.  He took a moment to look from wall to wall before he noticed that there were no front windows.  

This part of the store was separate from the front part of the store.  He looked to the man behind the register who noticed him in return and gave a curious tilt of his head then looked away suddenly self-conscious and nervous.  He started to move his feet, slowly he walked further into the store to one of the racks and began look over the jackets.  He noticed the man who had just checked out walk by him and look him over.  He looked back, noted the man’s expensive, leather shoes, his slacks, his tucked in shirt with an open collar.  The man had wealth and he had taste.  If he were anywhere else he might just chat the guy up and give him a business card, and yet he thought of Oliver and the reason he was there and it gave him pause.

He was about to give up, unsure of just what he was supposed to find there, when he saw the younger boyfriend take off his shirt right there in front of everyone to try on something new.  And that’s when he realized two things were missing, changing rooms and cameras, and he thought of Oliver’s text about getting a new suit, a complete suit he guessed, jacket, shirt, and pants.  Clean underwear, he thought, I forgot about getting clean underwear.  He started to head back for the door out when he ran into the cashier, bumped into him, and he stepped back and looked over the man.  He wasn’t an ordinary cashier.  He was fit, stylish.  He looked to be in his forties mostly though Mark suspected he was actually older, white hair and blue eyes.

“I uh, came to the wrong place,” Mark blurted out.

“Are you sure?  Aren’t you my appointment for a new suit?  Oliver said he’d be sending over someone new and now I can see why, look at you, oh you’re darling.”

Mark suddenly felt intimidated by the man as he stepped back once to get another six inches of distance between them.  The man looked him over and he felt like a piece of meat, measured and judged by each feature, put together and taken back apart, possibly even stripped in the man’s imagination, right down to his, his bare ass.  Mark gulped and bit his lip.  Was this what he wanted?

The other customers continued to browse but they were also looking to him, at him.  Were they all doing the same thing he thought of this man before him had been doing?  He was it.  He was the center of attention.  He looked to the door, felt the bead of sweat on his forehead and pool collect at the small of his back.  He was nervous.  He was actually nervous, he thought, and excited at the same time because if he stayed they’d all get to see him.  He might just be stripped of each piece of fabric.  He felt his dick harden, worried that they all saw the tent in his pants.  He was afraid, not of physical nor emotional harm, just the fear of something new and yet he nodded because yes he wanted this.

“I’m Quentin,” the older man said offering his hand.

“Mark,” he said taking hold of it.

He tried his best to shake with his firmest, most professional grip but the man’s wrist bent with the motion and he felt it go limp.  He was worried he had done something wrong but the man only stepped to him, put a hand on his shoulder and turned him to the clothes and asked, “where should we begin?” Mark looked around at the different sections unsure of how or what he should say next and was about to just start talking, make some kind of noise, uhm or like, well, anything when Quentin interrupted him.

“Measurements, it’s always good to start with measurements,” he said.

And he ushered Mark across the store to an area where three mirrors surrounded a small step, a platform, a pedestal.  Mark felt the man urge him to get up on it so he did.  He was turned and faced back out to the rest of the store.  Suddenly a few inches taller he looked down on the rest of them and yet he was the one who felt ridiculous and the focus of attention.  He felt Quentin take hold of his tie and loosen it, pull it out and for a moment he breathed easier until the older man took hold of his belt buckle and he grabbed the man’s wrists.  And the man didn’t fight back, just let himself be taken and held.

“What are you doing?”

“Well, the best measurements are always closest to the skin.  I thought, maybe, I could strip you down for the most accurate results.”

The other customers were now all looking to him.  They were waiting, hunger in their eyes.  He thought he saw one of them lick his lips.  The younger man, the boyfriend, was shirtless as he stared back and yet Mark still felt the most vulnerable of them all.  And yet there it was, the younger boyfriend, shirtless, and so he relaxed and he let go of the tailor’s wrists.  Quentin quickly set about his task, belt out, fly open, pants down, shoes off, pants off, socks off.  Mark self consciously tugged his shirt down to cover himself.  Quentin pulled a measuring tape from his back pocket, ran it from his foot up his leg to the inside of his thigh right beside his balls.  He felt the back of the man’s hand.  Did it really have to be there so long?  Probably not.

For a moment he laughed to himself as he stood there with his shirt loose down to half of his thigh, slightly tickled by the tailor who moved to his other leg.  He watched as some of the other customers moved closer and some of them went back to shopping though keeping one eye on him.  He looked to their crotches and noted that most all of them were walking around with erections.  And he felt his own dick slide around against his briefs, leave a trail of ejaculate as he felt it harden.

This isn’t so bad, he told himself, but Quentin must have sensed his confidence because that’s when he took hold his shirt collar.  One button at a time, slowly and methodically until it was open, the man pulled it from his shoulders, tossed it on his pile of clothes.  Mark suddenly felt humiliated as he stood there wishing he had picked a different style of undershirt that day, the one day he had chosen tank top over crew neck.  He could have used the sleeves right then, the tighter collar, the way the fabric hung loose, but instead he was in a tank top.  The ribbed fabric clung to him, bare shoulders, bare clavicle.  He tried to cover himself with his hands and that’s when he remembered the three mirrors behind him.  They all could see him, all parts of him at the same time and from just about every angle.  He felt the way his briefs rode up his crack, part of one cheek a little more visible, and he wanted to pull it out, two fingers to the back of his underwear and he could cover himself.  But for how long?  He remembered the store sold underwear too.

Quentin asked him to remove his undershirt and he did, handed it over to the man who dropped it with the rest before reaching up to his hips, a hand on each side.  His fingers delicately inside the waist band, he pulled a little, then some more, and finally Mark felt the last fabric, the lost cover of decency, leave his body, down his hips to his ankles and then he stepped out of it.  He stood there before all of them naked, bare, his erect dick pointed at them.  They all took a moment to look.  They all saw him.

It could be worse, he thought, I could be bending over showing them my asshole.  And yet it was completely embarrassing, completely humiliating to be standing there in front of strangers, in the back of a store, in another store, a kind of fake store, clothing all around him, aisles and displays of clothing, his own clothing on the floor in a messy pile.  He looked down to see his briefs and for a moment he wanted them back.  He wanted them all back.  And yet as he stood there, felt his body in the cool air, the way his hard dick stuck out with the foreskin rolled back he was kind of proud because they were all looking at him.  They were all admiring him.  He moved his hands a little just to feel the under part of his forearm brush against the head of his dick and he bucked a little and the men smirked as they stared at him.  Quentin moved away, crossed the store to a door that he went through as discreetly as possibly.  He looked to his left and saw a man rub at his bulge in his pants.  They were all getting off on this.  

One man brazenly put his hands down inside his pants and began to stroke his hard dick.  He looked to where the man with the younger boyfriend had been joined by one of the other customers and the younger boyfriend had his hands down inside the men’s pants as they pawed him.  Mark licked his lips.  These men wanted him.  They were horny for him and yet they all stood back observing him as he stood there and suddenly he didn’t feel shame but pride so he put his hands at his side, took a deep breath, and held his shoulders up.  His hard dick in front of him, so hard it bent back, the foreskin peel away and the tip was red, a pearl of cum on it.

After several deep breaths he saw Quentin return accompanied by another much younger man, handsome with glasses and short, stylish haircut.  The new man walked ahead, crossed the room to where Mark stood and looked him in the eye.

“My name is Alfie,” he said, “and it looks like we’ve got a bit of a problem here, none of your clothes will fit with that big erection.”

Mark rubbed his fingers together.  This new man, this more in charge man somehow, he added a new element to it.  He felt as if his cheeks were on fire and he looked to the ceiling, watched the man out of the corner of his eye.  Alfie stepped closer, his cologne wafted into Mark’s nostrils and he could hear the other men in the room, the rustle of their clothes as they masturbated.

“On your knees boy,” Alfie commanded.

Mark dropped to his knees, his head still cocked back he looked up to the man as he stood before him in his slacks, his button down shirt, suspenders, a bow tie.  Alfie reached around to him, gripped the back of his head then pulled him into his crotch.  Mark felt the man’s erection underneath.  In the darkness of the cloth, firm against his thigh he gulped and moved his mouth as if the man’s dick was right there for him.  He wanted it.  His knees pressed into the carpet, toes bent, the way his butt cheeks parted and hung open, his hard dick and tight balls, his nipples hard.  He saw Alfie’s hand, fingers touched together on the zipper.  He heard the teeth slowly open, then he undid his belt, his pants.  Alfie pulled him to his dick, his face pressed into the other man’s underwear he felt his hard dick.

Slowly he moved up to the waistband of his underwear, bit into them with his teeth, pulled them down.  Alfie’s dick slapped against the side of his face.  He felt it run along his cheek to his ear and he tried to grip it with his lips.  Alfie placed his hand on Mark’s head and pushed him a little lower to his balls.  He took one in his mouth then the other, licked up the base along the shaft to the head.  He nipped at it, licked his lips and opened his mouth for Alfie to push inside, across this tongue to the back of his mouth to his throat he choked a little and pushed back.  The tailor pulled out and he gulped for breath, he felt his mouth fill with saliva.

Back into his mouth, out, in, out, Alfie’s fingers in his hair, he began to thrust in motion deeper each time into Mark’s mouth, his balls slapped against his chin.  Mark reached down to his own dick, felt his balls, gripped at his shaft, tugged a little and with just a little motion his fingers rubbed over the head and it happened.  He felt the spasm of his muscles, the rush and the tingle of pain as he ejaculated.  But it wasn’t over as Alfie continued to fuck his face, his lips began to swell, the other man gripped at his ears and his hair until finally he was pulled into his pubic hair and he felt the cum in his throat burn down to his stomach.  He pulled away and sunk down on his haunches, head down, spit ran out from his open mouth down to his chest, his belly, even on his own dick.

And just when he had gathered his breath he felt someone grab his ear and he realized it was Quentin, the older man who had stripped him.  He was pulled low to the floor to Alfie’s shoe where he saw his own ejaculate there on the leather.  Quentin spanked him twice and pulled him closer until he stuck out his tongue and he was forced to lick up what he had carelessly spilled.  He licked and sucked as the older man continued to abuse his bottom and pull on his ear until he had cleaned the entire shoe and then he was pulled to the carpet where he tasted some of it but also the fibers and he struggled and resisted so Quentin released him.  He pushed himself up to his knees and glared to the old man and was about to say something when Aflie squatted down in front of him, slapped him across the face and he looked back to him.

“Bad boy,” he said.

It was there again.  He felt himself back in the scene.  He would do anything for this young man.  He looked him in the eye for a moment, then looked down to the carpet and he saw the wet spot.  Slowly, carefully he lowered himself down on his hands, tried to lick at it without tasting the carpet.  For a moment he thought he had done exactly what was expected of him, especially when he heard the younger man’s cruel laughter that stirred his memory and he realized exactly where he was, exactly what he had done, and the other men, the strangers.  He pushed up and looked for them and was surprised to see most of them had gone.

“We’ll get to work on your suit right away sir,” Quentin said, “I believe we have everything we need.”

Alfie properly secured his dick back into his underwear and his pants, walked out of the room.  Mark looked over to his pile of clothes.  He crawled to them, got to his feet, pulled each article on one at a time.  He looked to Quentin who seemed to be preoccupied with his work, then he walked out.  The cool air was refreshing when it hit his red cheeks and lungs.  He breathed deep, adjusted his dick, and walked back to his car slowly memorizing for himself everything he had been subjected to in some attempt to remember every detail even the taste of the carpet.

Hard Sell Pt 08 - The Personal Trainer

[Are you still interested in getting into better shape?]

Mark looked around again.

[Yes, very.  Do you have something, someone in mind?]

[You kinky bastard, I do.  His name is Apollo.  He’s a personal
trainer I know.  I’ve been telling him about you, nothing specific, no
names, yet, but what we’ve been doing.  He said he’s interested in
starting a regimen with you.  Are you interested?]

Oh god, Mark thought, a personal trainer.  This could be another thing to mark off his bucket list.  He found himself nodding even though no one was there to see and he stopped himself before quickly sending back a text.

[Yes, please, sir.]

He grinned and gave himself points for the sir part.  Oliver replied
with name, Apollo and an address, time and date, he was disappointed it would be Friday evening but it had him wanting it even more.  There was another text from Oliver telling him that he should buy something to wear, namely a jockstrap, a tank top, and a pair of shorts, short shorts like athletes wore.  Mark licked his lips at the idea and replied that he would get everything and be there on time.  He had one night to kill but he didn’t want to do it alone.

[Since it’s not going to be until tomorrow do you think we could, you know, get together?]

[I’m a bit busy this evening.  I want you to do something for
yourself.  Your ass will be mine soon enough.]

Soon enough?  It was never soon enough.  Mark sighed and sent a
message back that he understood even though he didn’t and left it at that.

He pulled into the strip mall parking lot and made his way to the back where he found one remaining business amongst several others that had been closed for months, possibly years.  He was surprised when he spotted three other cars parked nearby.  Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad if there were other people here exercising, he said to himself.  He looked up to the window to see a sign for Apollo’s Fitness.

This is the place, he told himself and slowly exited his car.  He made sure he had everything he needed in his bag: a jockstrap, shorts, and a tank top.  The outfit would be more revealing than he might be comfortable wearing, especially in front of clients, but he took a deep breath and assured himself this is what Oliver had asked him to do before he locked his car and walked to the front door.  He opened it causing the familiar sound of bell on the door that he hadn’t heard in years.  He stepped inside to a small reception area where he saw a young man sitting behind a desk.  He was handsome, thin, and well dressed.  The receptionist looked up to him with a curious brow.

“Hi, I’m here for a three o’clock appointment,” Mark said.

“You’re a little early,” the receptionist replied, “but Apollo is just
finishing up with his previous client so please take a seat and I’ll
let him know you’re here.”

Mark looked to the seats.  They were just comfortable to sit for
fifteen minutes, a half hour at most.  He sat and watched as the
receptionist finished whatever he had been doing on his computer
before getting up and walking to the back room.  He noted that man was a bit light in the loafers and smirked to himself.  Moments later the man returned and said that Apollo would be with him shortly after finishing with the previous client.  He thanked him in response and looked around the room.  He wasn’t surprised to see a few motivational posters on the walls and read over each of them to pass the time.  He had never been one for self-motivation much less motivational posters and he just smirked to himself and rolled his eyes.

After he read over them several times he looked to the receptionist
who showed no interest in even acknowledging him so he double checked his bag, even thought about going back out to his car, when he heard voices approaching from the back room.  He looked up to see two men step through a curtain.  The first man was fit, dressed in a tank top and shorts, Mark assumed he had a jock underneath, no bag.  He picked up his keys from the receptionist. The second man, the second man took away Mark’s breath at first sight.

He was six two or six three and muscled, black skinned, and dressed in shorts and tank top that looked too small for his body.  His thighs were thick causing the shorts to ride up.  His tank top looked more like a skimpy piece of cloth.  He gulped when he spotted the bulge between the man’s legs and held his breath when the man passed him and he saw his muscled butt.  He forced himself to look up to the man’s head but could barely get his eyes above the man’s shoulders there was just so much of him.  He walked the previous client to the door.  They talked like old friends and he patted the man on the shoulder as he exited.  His hand alone was big and meaty.  Mark thought he might crumble under a touch like that and no matter how much he tried to prepare himself he was still taken by surprise when the man, Apollo, turned to him.  But his face broke into a smile making Mark feel a little more at ease.

“Are you my three o’clock?”

“Yes, uh, yes sir,” Mark stammered out.

“Good, well, I thought you’d be dressed and ready.  No matter, come on back and we can take care of that.”

Mark hoped his briefs held his erection in place as he got to his feet and walked ahead of the man to the back room he had indicated.  He stepped through the curtain to see a simple four walled room, not very big but full of exercise equipment.  A rack of weights, an exercise bike, a rowing machine, a weight bench, and even one of those rubber balls.  He spotted a large, storage chest against one wall.  There was one door at the back of the room and he wasn’t sure if it was an exit, an office, or just a restroom.  He looked to Apollo as he stepped into the room.

“Well, let’s see what we’re working with,” the man said.

Mark stood frozen.  He looked around at the room.  It was obvious,
right there was all of the equipment, and then he realized the man was talking about him.  Did he want him to strip down?  Was he supposed to change right there?  Or was it just that he was talking about the soon to occur challenge of exercise?  He tightened his grip on his gym bag.

“Well?”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, um, sir,” Mark replied.

“Strip down,” Apollo said, “you can put your bag and clothes on the chest over there I guess.  Next time you can leave your work clothes in the car, leave your keys with the receptionist.”

“Oh,” Mark replied.

He set his bag on the chest and looked around the room, remembered the curtain, there wouldn’t be much privacy, he said to himself.  He started to strip and looked to Apollo who moved around seeming to put things away.  He folded his clothes carefully, set them atop the chest: his shirt, his pants.  He set his belt and socks on top, his shoes beside his clothes until he was down to his briefs and he looked to Apollo who didn’t seem to be paying attention.  He was getting something out, a weight scale.  He carried it to the middle of the room.  Mark turned to his bag, pulled off his underwear, opened the bag and took out his jock.

“Actually, why don’t you come over here just like that and I can get an accurate weight,” he said.

Mark dropped his jock, covered his dick and balls with his hands, then turned to the man who waited patiently.  He walked to him, looked down to the scale, carefully he stepped onto it.

“Hey, Steve would you come in here with a chart for a new client?”

Apollo called out.  Mark took a deep breath and looked to the muscled man with pleading eyes.  

“Is there something wrong?”

Mark shook his head.  There he was naked, his hands over his crotch, and the man walked into the room through the same curtains he had walked through, carrying a clipboard and pen.  He moved to stand beside him, bit at the end of his pen and looked over Mark as if he were evaluating him.  He felt his nipples harden, a chill in the room he hadn’t noticed before, but there was nothing he could do about it.

There was nothing, if he was honest with himself, he wanted to do
about, except give in to this.

“Weight, 170 pounds,” Apollo said, “now let’s get some measurements that way we can really show improvement over the next couple of weeks.”

“I’ll be right back,” Steve said.

Mark stepped off the scale and Apollo moved it back to the corner of the room.  He looked to see Steve step into the room with the same clipboard and a roll of measuring tape just like the tailor had used on him.  He didn’t know just how personal this was going to get but he suspected it would get very intimate.  Apollo took the measuring tape and quickly set about wrapping it around and touching it to Mark’s body, chest, biceps, waist, thighs.  He called out the numbers each time and Steve quickly wrote down the numbers.  When he was done he handed it back and to Mark’s surprise Steve walked out of the room.

He felt a little bit of relief to be left with just Apollo until the
man said he wanted him to get his jock, and only his jock.  Mark
walked back to the chest, picked it up, stepped into it and pulled it
into place, adjusted his dick inside and felt a little bit of ejaculate
on his fingers.  He quickly licked it from his fingers before turning
back to his trainer.  The man smirked to him and motioned for him to step back into the middle of the room.  He did.

“Ten jumping jacks,” he ordered.

Mark laughed off his nervousness and set about the task. Pushups, burpees, run in place, more jumping jacks, he quickly put him through a calisthenics test, told him to adjust pace and form each time.  Mark felt his lungs begin to burn, his heart possibly beat the fastest it had done in years except for maybe during sex or
masturbation.  Sweat formed all over his body, across his back, his
face, and it began to run down the middle of his back.  For one
routine he felt like he had done everything perfectly because after it
he felt so tired he wasn’t sure if he could keep form no matter how
much he tried.  And just when he was about to fall to the floor in
exhaustion Apollo told him to take a break after sit ups so he just
lay there and caught his breath.  He heard the man move around, bring over some weights.

Still on the floor Mark looked up to see Apollo standing over his
head.  He could see up the man’s shorts, a flash of white jock strap, then he set weights down on either side and ordered him to pick them up.  He picked up one in each hand and set to the task of pressing them above his chest.  He realized he was flat on his back, knees in the air, his dick covered by a thin white fabric, the straps around his butt.  Apollo walked around him observing him from every angle.

His dick started to harden, strained against the band.  Apollo kept at him, put him back through the exercises, added weights with different positions until he was exhausted, covered in sweat, one knee up, flat on his back, his head to the side.  Mark panted for breath.

“Please,” Mark cried out.

“How do you feel?”

“Like I’m about to puke,” Mark replied.

“Okay, let’s take a little break,” Apollo replied.

Mark looked to the man truly grateful for being given a reprieve.  He
fell to his back and took several deep breaths until his heart slowed. He realized just then how read his skin had gotten, how hard his nipples felt.  He wanted to touch himself all over, especially his dick and his nipples, maybe slip a finger between his cheeks, but as he lay there under Apollo’s tutelage he just bit at his lip and told himself he had to keep it professional.  Just when he thought his body had almost returned to normal he heard his trainer clear his throat.

“Yes sir?”

“Just one more thing,” Apollo said.

“What’s that?”

“Cool down,” he replied.

“I’m okay,” Mark said.

“That wasn’t a question.  It’s a requirement, now get your ass up,” he ordered.

Mark forced himself up to his knees, then to his feet.  He watched as Apollo moved to the chest, set aside his bag and clothes, then opened it.  He reached one hand down inside and took hold of something, he pulled out a silver chain, a dog chain, pulled until it reached its maximum length and then he was pulling on something, a black rubber covered head emerged, someone, Mark told himself.  He watched as Apollo pulled a man from inside the chest, naked except for the rubber mask, a leather harness, cuffs on his wrists and his ankles.  He was completely hairless from the neck down, no hair anywhere so his hard dick stuck out obscenely from his body.  It was eight, no nine inches long, and the tip was red, that’s when he noticed the cock ring.

Apollo led the gimp slave across the room to in front of the exercise
bike and told him to get on his knees.  He watched as Apollo walked into the back room for something.  The gimp slave didn’t look his direction at all.  Was it the receptionist under there?  Had he stripped and been placed in the chest while Apollo was making him workout so hard?  He looked to the doorway and saw his trainer was carrying something, he moved to the bicycle and carefully attached it, a fuck machine, Mark realized, normally it was powered by an electric motor but he had a feeling this one was powered by the bike.  He was going to be on the bike, he realized.  He felt his dick harden and watched as his trainer moved the slave gimp into position and slowly worked the machine into position with the other man until the dildo on its end was inserted into him, then he tied him off by the chain on his neck, his cuffs.  He was stuck there.  Mark unconsciously licked his lips.

“Come over here,” Apollo said.

“Yes sir,” Mark replied with renewed enthusiasm.

“This is going to be like our own little spin class,” he said, “but
with a change.”

Mark nodded to the man.

“There’s just one more thing,” Apollo said before walking away to the back room again.  He came back moments later with another dildo in his hands, this one had a metal shaft attached to its base.  He moved to the bike, took off the seat, and replaced it with the dildo.

“You can’t be serious,” Mark blurted out.

“Strip and ride this thing, that is if you want to give this little
piggy, gimp slave the fuck of his life.”

Oh, he wanted to do it.  He really wanted to do it.  This stranger who had been kept in the chest, there he was bound and naked, a hard dick between his thighs, little chance of getting off, and getting fucked in the ass by the dildo fuck machine attached to the bike he’d be powering himself.

He looked to the dildo.  Apollo smirked at him before picking up the
same lubricant he had used on the gimp and applied it to the dildo
that had replaced the seat.  He greased every inch of it, then
motioned for Mark to move in and get onto it.  He stepped over the
center bar, put a foot on each pedal causing a slight movement of the wheels, the dildo, which caused the gimp to whimper.  He smiled at the notion of what he was about to do.  Apollo placed one hand on his stomach and took hold of the dildo with his other, slowly he eased him back until it entered his hole.

For just a moment he wanted to stop as he felt it dilate his
sphincter, so big he thought it would somehow split him in two but his sunk further down it.  He could feel each inch push up inside of his body.  His hole felt like it would never close again and he didn’t
want it to because even the pain felt like pleasure.   Eventually he
sunk to the base and let out a groan, felt sweat on his brow that he
wiped away with the back of his hand.  But the most surprising thing was his dick as he felt it harden like a rock.  He looked down to it, red and swollen, his balls tight.  He just wanted to touch it so
slowly he lowered his hand but Apollo saw him and slapped it away.

“Please sir,” he begged.

“No, get that ass moving,” the man replied.

Slowly he began to pedal and he looked to the machine as it increased in speed and he heard the gimp whimper so he slowed but Apollo was quick to spank him on the butt and he picked up speed again.  The gimp before him, his thighs, narrow waist, the way his balls and dick was tucked between his thighs completely helpless.  He felt another spank on his butt and picked up speed again, watched the dildo machine fuck him faster and faster until it reached its maximum speed.  He was pumping as hard and fast as he could, tried to use the motion of the pedals to his advantage.  Apollo reached around from behind and began to play with his nipples, two hard little points that became so sensitive that he began to twist at just a little touch.  He could smell himself.  He could smell the lubricant.  His own heart felt like it would seize in his chest.

And the gimp, that poor gimp was secured in place getting rammed by the machine, relentless and persistent.  There was no stopping it.  A dildo very much like the one inside of Mark’s asshole was also in that gimp and it pounded him mercilessly.  Mark’s thigh muscles strained, his feet felt heavy, his arms weak he leaned down onto the bike to try and find some comfortable position causing the dildo to shift.  His balls rubbed against his thighs and if only, just only a few more inches something might touch his dick that leaked ejaculate.

Just when he was about to slow, about to give up, he felt Apollo leave him.  He listened as he walked over to the chest then come back.  He stepped into his sight, a flick of the wrist and Mark saw the little bull whip in his hand.  “Oh no,” Mark cried out, and Apollo smirked before stepping into position and whipping him across the back.  The first few times didn’t feel like much, a passing sensation, but as the man continued to whip his back he felt it build and that’s when the man struck him more quickly.  He pushed harder against the pedals until the whip fell in synch with each time around.  His dick.  His back.  His hole.  His heavy feet.  Sweat covered him.  And that gimp, the sounds of the gimp as he struggled against his bonds somehow fueled him more, his groans almost became recognizable pleas.

That didn’t stop him.  He looked to Apollo who lazily stroked his own dick with one hand and whipped with the other.  He saw the shape and girth of his dick and recognized it.  It was just like the dildo in him and the one in the gimp.  He had made replicas of his dick and they were being fucked by them.  He pushed himself up, locked his elbows, let his knees just keep going as he began to think of himself as part of that same machine fucking the gimp.  He was just another part, the engine.  Mark felt the pain his back as it gave in to the pain and he arched back and let out a yell, a scream, so primal and intense he barely recognized it was coming from his own body.  That’s when it happened, tears running down his face, Apollo touched his dick, the sensitive head, and he shot, a blinding orgasm, sweat blinded him when he closed his eyes.  And it didn’t stop, not instantly like so many others, it echoed in his body from his toes to his fingertips, from his shoulders to his knees.  He felt Apollo’s arms wrap around him and he fell into his grasp, his entire body held up by the other man who slowly lifted him from the bicycle, the dildo slipped from his hole with a plop.  He would have laughed if he hadn’t been so exhausted.  He felt helpless and used as the man carried him over and laid him down next to the gimp on his side so he could see the stranger, the gimp.

Apollo pulled the dildo from him too, dragged the machine away.  He released the gimp, pushed him to the floor and turned his head to look back at Mark who lay there naked, his limp dick leaked over his thigh. They looked each other in the eye as Apollo pushed one of the gimp’s knees up to his chest to access to his hole.  He watched as the muscled man pushed inside easily and began to pound him.  He could hear the skin slap against skin.  He saw the pain and pleasure in the gimp’s face as the man caused his body to shift with each thrust.

Finally Apollo grunted and moaned as he pushed as deep as he could until it seemed as if the gimp himself had been flattened against the ground.  He could see the perfect outline of his trainer, his thighs, his round butt, his wide back, muscled and powerful.  He wished he could have another orgasm himself right then and for a moment he licked his lips when he saw the gimp take shape again before him, on his back, his dick stuck out from his body.  It twitched in some attempt to just feel something, anything, just enough for the gimp to have his own orgasm.  He watched as the gimp slowly reached down to touch himself only for Apollo to slap his hand away.

“Not today,” the man said.

“Please,” the gimp begged.

“No.”

Mark rolled onto his back and looked up to the ceiling.  He closed his eyes and let himself give in to the exhaustion.  It didn’t matter if
he were naked in Times Square he needed sleep so he just let it
overtake him.  Barely cognizant he listened as Apollo dragged the man into a shower, heard him cry out as the spray hit him and he
complained about it being cold water.  He pleaded to just have an
orgasm but Apollo gave him an ultimatum, one orgasm and he’d be locked it chastity for two months instead of the usual one.  He smirked to himself at the thought of the man in chastity.  No orgasm after all of that, Mark’s mind reeled inside the darkness of exhaustion.  Would that, could that ever happen to him?  He didn’t like the idea but for someone else it was amusing.  Then darkness again, this time broken by the feeling of being lifted and carried into the shower.

Four hands on his body, warm water, the smell of soap, those same
hands washed every inch of him, every inch, even between his toes and he never even washed his own toes, not really.  He opened his eyes a little but the room was dimly lit and he could barely make out the two men’s bodies as they worked.  He felt a finger inside his hole, once to clean him out, once to check for damage.  He was putty to them and didn’t try to fight it.

When they finished they carried him out, dried him off, and even
dressed him.  He felt Apollo lift him from the floor and carry him out
to his car and set him in the backseat.  He listened as they drove
away.  For a moment he thought he was being kidnapped but then he just gave over to the feeling of not knowing and fell asleep.
The car stopped and he awoke.  The door opened, the two men took hold of him, Apollo was quick to put him over his shoulder while the other took his car keys and ran ahead.  Mark looked up to see his neighborhood.  They were taking him to his apartment.  He smiled at the thought of his own bed.  It was quick.  Up the stairs, through his front door, to his bedroom, Apollo set him down, stripped him again, rolled him onto his side and covered him with a sheet.  He felt it cover him, his shoulders, his back, his butt, all of the way down to his feet.  He was home.  And that’s when he heard the most surprising thing, the other man, the one who was the gimp spoke.

“Do you think he recognized me?” he whispered.

“No, I don’t think so,” Apollo replied.

“There was a moment when you were fucking me at the end that we looked each other in the eye and I think he did.”

“Does it matter?”

“I hope not.”

Mark pushed himself up on his elbow, tried to turn to look back to
them, but he heard their feet, the closing of doors as they exited.
What did that mean?  I don’t really care, he told himself.