Creating Mr. .Wrong

Creating Mr. Wrong

by 2nn

Not for minors! If you are not an adult, stop reading and go elsewhere

now! If BDSM, bondage, sexual slavery and homosexuality offends you,

please stop reading. Please keep in mind that this story is a work of

FICTION; nothing more.

Chapter 1: Meeting Mr. Right

Paul turned off his special PC, slipped on his comfortable loafers and

stood up. He said goodbye to the others and walked out. He didn't wave

or salute and he used his foot to gently nudge the door open. Paul

didn't have any arms. A small, slender - some might even say petite -

and attractive young man of twenty-two, with black hair and large brown

eyes, Paul had been born without arms. As a consequence he had become

extremely adept in using his feet for everything. So much so that he was

able to live completely unassisted and hold a regular job. It might not

be the most interesting job in the world - he did telephone surveys for

a ratings bureau - but it was steady, paid enough and he had very good

colleagues.

As he left the office and headed down the street, Paul felt quite good

except for one thing: he was desperately horny and not only that; he

really needed a boyfriend again. Being armless limited the attention of

potential lovers he had found; potentially interested ones were often at

a loss as to how to hook up with him, as if asking some standard lame

question about the weather or such somehow became harder because he had

no arms. Being gay did not help this situation in the slightest he had

found; rather the opposite. Well, there was the exception of the

perverts who wanted him exactly because he had no arms, but Paul had

tried that kind of guy twice and both had been failures. No, what he

needed was a good-looking guy who would treat him right. And take care

of his outrageously needy cock. God, he needed to get laid!

Exciting the subway near his apartment, his mind was still occupied with

his need and, having spent better part of the trip fantasizing about a

really hot Latino guy standing ten feet away; his cock was practically

full mast. He was so preoccupied with his fantasy that he walked right

into another guy. The other guy turned out to be much larger than Paul

and although his back was turned, his footing was much better so it was

Paul who fell down.

The man turned around in a flash and saw Paul on the ground and instead

of worrying about how to help the poor armless cripple, he simply

grabbed Paul's torso firmly and stood him up quickly. So quickly in fact

that Paul had no time to make get a proper footing once upright and so

he stumbled slightly - again - this time with the effect of pressing his

body against the other man's. This included pressing his erection

against the other man's thigh. The man noticed; a barely audible gasp

escaping him as his eyes widened imperceptibly. Paul was deeply

embarrassed and opened his mouth to apologize or explain or just

stammer, when the man turned ever so slightly so that his own crotch now

pressed against Paul's thigh. In the short second that passed before the

man stepped away to maintain normal - proper? - distance, Paul clearly

felt the other man's erection growing fast.

Paul felt at a loss, bewildered. He had no idea what to do next. The man

was quite attractive: tall, broad shouldered, big and strong hands,

squarish jaw and friendly blue eyes. His hair was brown with a dash of

grey. Paul, who had never made his homosexuality a secret and who had

had his fair share of lovers in spite of his missing arms, had a

definite thing for older guys and this guy fit the bill perfectly, being

perhaps fifteen years his senior. Tall, strong and muscular and at the

same time friendly looking. Paul wasn't exactly submissive and had

certainly never played any kind of bondage games, but he did like for

his lovers to be big and strong and of the take charge type; perhaps

even slightly dominant. And this guy looked...

Paul snapped out of his sexual fantasy to find himself in a situation

which had just gone from awkward to outright embarrassing. But before he

could open his mouth and make things even worse, the man spoke: "Want to

grab a cup of coffee or something?" He looked embarrassed, unsure of

whether he was doing the right thing, but Paul loved him for it and

jumped at the opportunity: "Yes please!" he almost shouted and felt

himself blush. But this time the guy saved him by smiling broadly,

putting a hand lightly on his shoulder and saying: "Good. Know a place

around here?" Just before Paul opened his mouth to reply the man

injected: "I'm Richard by the way. Pleased to meet you." And after a

slight pause he glanced down and remarked softly: "Surprisingly

pleased." Paul couldn't help laughing a little and smiled warmly as he

replied: "I'm Paul and as you know I'm also pleased to meet you." This

set them both laughing like loons and just like that the tension had

melted away.

Paul knew a place nearby, "The Plantation", which was an upscale coffee

joint that doubled as a restaurant of sorts. It was cozy, had

semi-private booths, soft seats, soft lightning and a very...sensual

atmosphere. One of his co-workers had shown it to him once and he had

wanted to take a date there ever since. And this was a date; of that he

had no doubt.

The man, Richard, looked at him with discrete interest, but interest

nonetheless and Paul had given up all pretenses and checked Richard out

openly. The more he looked, the better he liked what he saw. He was big

and handsome and obviously well groomed. His clothing was discrete, but

obviously expensive. And there was something about his walk which Paul

at first couldn't quite place. Then it dawned on him that the guy had to

be a former elite athlete of some sort. His movements were simply so...

confident. Like those of a star athlete, or at least a former star

athlete. Again Paul felt how his pants were suddenly too tight by far

and again he felt hot and bothered. He really needed to get himself

under control so that he wouldn't come across as too desperate. He found

himself wishing fervently for it to work.

He needn't have worried. From the second they sat down the date went

perfectly. Richard turned out to be the perfect gentleman, without

seeming overly helpful in any way. He helped Paul with his jacket and

pulled out his chair and making it seem perfectly natural. He asked up

front about his arms and the asked no more question on that subject at

all. He was charming, intelligent, helpful in all the right ways and so

desperately sexy that Paul had real trouble getting his own mind off the

insistent erection in his pants.

Richard was a doctor; a plastic surgeon with his own very successful

practice and was obviously well off. Just as Paul had guessed he was

fifteen years his senior and surprisingly he had no unwelcome baggage.

He was unmarried, discretely but openly gay with no ex-wives or such in

his past. He was perfect and so was his sense of timing. When they had

chatted for more than three hours and all the immediate subjects had

been touched upon, he casually asked: "Want to come back to my place for

a bite to eat?" Paul practically shouted with eager: "Yes!" and then

instantly became embarrassed as his forwardness. Richard took it in

stride and simply smiled pleasantly and discretely ran his hand up

Paul's thigh, briefly lingering on his erection and said: "Good. I would

like that very much." Paul felt himself go warm all over and the feeling

definitely didn't go diminish as Richard helped him get his jacket on

and held the door for him on the way out.

Richard's car turned out to be a giant BMW, with leather seats that were

better than anything Paul had ever sat in before, a sound system inside

which would made any audiophile envious and an acceleration which made

Paul nearly giddy.

Richard's place turned out to match the car. It was an apartment near

the very top of the city's tallest building. They arrived by elevator,

which could only stop at that floor if Richard allowed it to. The inside

of the apartment was probably just as perfect as everything else, but

Paul didn't have time for that as he exited the elevator. He was too

preoccupied with turning around towards Richard to tell him how much he

wanted him. Only Richard beat him to it; he snatched Paul's jacket off,

grabbed him around his shoulders and pressed his mouth to Paul's in a

passionate kiss.

After that it was a blur. Pretty soon all of their clothes were in a

pile right outside the elevator door and Richard carried Paul in his

strong arms, as if he weighed nothing at all, on a short trip ending in

the bedroom. The strong man lifting Paul made him not only horny, but

made him feel special somehow.

As for the lovemaking, it was amazing if also a bit embarrassing at

first. Paul was quite simply so needy that he came at once. Richard had

only just laid him down on the bed and begun kissing him. The second he

closed his big hand around Paul's excited member, Paul came, his back

arching up as he actually screamed with pleasure; something he had never

done before. When he had come down afterwards - after a whole lot of

aftershocks, moaning and writhing - he was acutely embarrassed. But as

he opened his mouth to apologize or whatever he was going to do, Richard

stopped him with a gently kiss and a soft: "Hush baby" after which he

wiped them dry with a towel he had somehow produced.

Then he started again; kissing, fondling, rubbing and masturbating Paul

back to life. He then slipped on a condom, lubed both himself and Paul

up and lifted his petite lover up and deposited him gently on his own

large and very, very hard cock. Richard sat on his legs and Paul was

impaled gently, his back to Richard but constantly subjected to his

kissing and fondling, as Richard maintained a very firm and

knowledgeable grip on his soon very firm erection. Oh God, it was good!

Fantastic! They soon found a rhythm and again Paul screamed as he came.

Sated and feeling quite happy, Paul snuggled up to his lover, making a

point of keeping him in his ass as the other man grew flaccid, flexing

his ass as best he could and extracting little moans from him along the

way. After he had finally slipped out, Paul pushed his back into

Richard's chest and they spooned for a good long while, slumbering a

little.

Then the little minx in Paul woke and he asked Richard, turning his head

slightly: "Are you clean?" Richard was a short second answering, but

when he did it was in the affirmative. Would he like to see the letter

from the VD-clinic? Paul snickered at little and said that it was

alright. Then he told Richard that he too was clean and had in fact been

going without sex for more than six months now. When Richard started to

react to this, Paul simply twisted himself in a knot of sorts and soon

he had his head between Richard's thighs, burrowing up from beneath

until he had the big man moaning with pleasure. Looking up and catching

Richard's eye, he did his party piece and slid forward until he held

Richard in his throat, massaging Richard with his spasming muscles.

Richard's amazed look right before Paul withdrew so that he could

breathe again, made Paul so hard he got tangled in the sheets. Not for

long though as Richard simply reached down, grabbed his thighs and

twisted him around until they were in a perfect sixty-nine. As Paul

screamed out in orgasmic joy for the third time in an hour, his mouth

producing the sounds around Richard's cock, Paul thought to himself that

he simply couldn't remember ever having such great sex.

The rest of the evening was much the same, only a great deal more

relaxed. They ate a leisurely meal in Richard's enormous and luxurious

kitchen after which he threw Paul over a black marble kitchen table and

fucked him. Having already cum three times, the cum stain Paul deposited

on the cabinet wasn't too big.

Richard produced two house coats, one of which Paul nearly disappeared

in, and they sat in a truly fantastic leather couch, enjoying the view

at night over the city as they talked. With every word Paul enjoyed

himself more and more and found himself falling in love with the big

man. It was a giddy feeling and one it had been a long time since he had

felt something so keenly; so clearly. In fact he couldn't remember

feeling quite like this since high school when he had had a very strong

- and completely unrequited - crush on his math teacher. This time,

however, Richard showed all the signs of reciprocating his feelings and

gradually the talking gave way to cuddling and kissing; necking and

fondling until Richard removed both of their house coats, pushed Paul

onto his back and entered him while holding his member firmly in his

hand. Never breaking eye contact, they made love for what seemed like

forever, Richard being in complete control the whole way. When he came

too close, he pulled back and when Paul came too close, he stopped

manipulating his member until Paul - feeling more than a little like a

bitch in heat - actually whined and begged for his lover to continue.

When Paul came for the fourth time that evening he no longer held back

and simply screamed full force, something he had never done before.

Afterwards he was utterly spent.

When Richard picked him up he was practically asleep and he simply

nodded a little as Richard tucked him under sheets and didn't register

Richard going to bed at all.

The next morning Paul woke up feeling fantastic; relaxed and refreshed

and on top of the world. He felt no surprise at the luxurious

surroundings, but rather felt completely at ease. Turning around he

found Richard lying awake and looking at him. Richard smiled and softly

spoke: "morning gorgeous", making Paul blush with pleasure as he smiled

widely. He would have loved making love in the bed, but both of them

really had to pee, so soon he found himself in the bathroom with

Richard. Having flushed Richard smiled wickedly and asked Paul: "Want to

take a shower?"

Paul had never tried fucking in a shower, but he liked it at once. No,

he loved it! Richard's shower stall not only had an overhead shower, but

had spray nozzles installed on three of the four sides of the stall.

Soon he was lifted up and deposited on Richard's cock. He then wrapped

his legs around his big lover and moaned as Richard began manipulating

his cock. Richard pushed him up against the glass door as he fucked him

and here Paul again screamed with pleasure as hot water hit him from

almost all directions.

At work the comments came almost immediately. His colleagues had no

trouble seeing that he had gotten laid the night before or that he had

developed a crush on whoever he had been with. Paul felt all warm inside

when he thought about the night before and even warmer when he thought

about the date they had that very same night. Maybe this was the one.

Maybe Richard would turn out to be his lover for life. It seemed to Paul

that it was a very old fashioned way to think about such things, but he

found himself constantly picturing them as a couple, hoping it would be

so.

A month later his wish had effectively come through. He hadn't moved in

with Richard yet, but the movers would come in three days and what

little stuff he had that he wanted to keep would be moved over to

Richard's place while the rest - all of the furniture for example -

would be given away to charity. It had been almost three weeks since he

had slept in his own bed and his old apartment didn't even feel like

home anymore.

Things had moved amazingly fast, but Paul wanted them to. He was madly

in love with Richard and had been so ever since their second date.

Richard had actually picked him up at work, showing himself to all of

Paul's co-workers, which could be a risky move for a gay man even in the

twenty-first century. Not only had he picked him up, he had actually

kissed Paul openly before leading a more than little befuddled Paul to

his car and driving him off while a small flock of Paul's colleagues had

stood by, gaping with surprise. Richard continued this behavior not only

that evening, openly displaying his affections for Paul at a pricey

restaurant, and Paul had been swept off his feet. He had cried with

emotion after their morning lovemaking the next day, scared somehow at

how hard he had fallen for the older man, but Richard had simply stated

that he loved Paul and wanted him to be his boyfriend - at first. He

thought they should give it a little time, but as he felt now he wanted

Paul to be his mate, his husband or wife or whatever the hell you wanted

to call it. This had only made Paul cry even harder with happiness.

There had been no stops in Richard's show of affection for Paul, no

hiccups, no missteps. At all times and to everyone he openly declared

them a couple and his behavior matched his words perfectly. After a

month they were referred to as a couple by Paul's co-workers and -

amazingly - treated in much the same way married couples were in that

context. It was as if everyone else thought they belonged together too.

For Paul those first six months were unreal; dreamlike. He was madly in

love and happier than he had ever been before; happier than he had even

thought possible, but he couldn't understand how Richard could feel the

same and he thought it completely improbable that world around him

seemingly accepted it too; thought it natural. The world, usually so

homophobic in so many ways, big and small, seemed to recognize that he

and Richard belonged together. Paul couldn't believe it, thought it too

good to be true. Nonetheless he was deeply, truly and madly in love and

had never been happier.

Chapter 2: Sowing the seeds for Mr. Wrong

Almost three years had passed since Paul had moved in with Richard, or

Mr. Right as he referred to him in front of his co-workers, and Paul was

no less in love with the man now than he had been after their second

date.

They lived together in Richard's luxurious apartment, which now sported

every conceivable and inconceivable modification to make life easier for

the armless Paul. At first he had actually resisted a little, not

wanting to be burden for Richard, but he had of course given in when it

turned out - as it always did - that Richard wanted the modifications

because he loved Paul.

Paul had kept his job with Richard's encouragement. His measly wage

didn't add much to the couple's purse, but it made Paul feel less

dependent on Richard and it enabled Paul to maintain a normal life, with

co-workers and friends and an everyday routine.

At home their relationship remained very close in every way. They were

each other's confidant while at the same time maintaining a close

physical relationship. Very physical and very, very erotic. Apart from

when one of them was feeling sick, and sometimes even then, Paul

couldn't remember a single day - not a single day! - when he hadn't had

an orgasm since moving in with Richard. At least one orgasm, that was.

Most days it was more like at least two and sometimes more or even many

more: The morning fuck, either in bed or in the shower, was a tradition

and provided both with a perfect start to the day. When they made dinner

together in the evening, Paul mostly just keeping Richard company in the

kitchen, Richard had developed a habit of "forcing" Paul to cum;

masturbating him "against his will" as they jokingly called it.

The first time it had happened, Paul had been the one instigating it. He

had been outrageously horny the whole day and he had been pressing

against Richard at every opportunity he got, rubbing his crotch against

him and daring him to come and take him. Richard had been preoccupied

with some pressing things around the apartment and had been slightly

annoyed but had taken it mostly in stride. Paul had been both bored and

horny and this behavior had only fuelled his need, finally calling after

Richard twice to "come and rape me you big stud! You bitch needs a good

fucking!" Richard had obviously been a bit shocked at this, but had

laughed it off.

Now Richard's chores were finally done, but in the meantime Paul had

become bored and had taken a comfortable seat, watching TV. Now Richard

came on to him, kneeling down on the couch so that he towered above the

sitting Paul, his crotch at the level of Paul's eyes. Paul had been a

little annoyed at being ignored for so long, but he was still horny so

he said: "Well stud? Come to rape me?" Suddenly Richard's eyes had

acquired a slightly alarming glint when he looked at Paul, making Paul a

little nervous. However, as always with Paul, Richard's attention had a

way of making him horny and hard. That evening had been no exception and

when Richard had seen the bulge in Paul's pants he had smiled and

grabbed that bulge while smiling wickedly: "Horny are we?" he had asked

Paul with mock menace in his voice, "Let's get rid of that nasty bulge,

shall we?" he continued. Paul suddenly felt not only trapped and a

little humiliated, not in the least as feisty as his previous comments.

He had also felt very horny as is being treated this way, but he felt he

had to object, even if he had led up to this: "Look Richard, this is

uncool. Don't treat me like a...". He didn't get any further, ending the

sentence with a gasp as Richard, smiling even more broadly now,

extracted Paul's member with a swift and somewhat casual move. Usually

Richard was the most considerate of lovers, always kissing and fondling

gently before taking any further action, but now he simply knelt on the

couch with Paul's cock in his hands and did nothing but manipulate it

while looking Paul straight in the eye, still sporting that wicked grin.

It was annoying. It was humiliating. It was demeaning. It was so fucking

exciting that Paul only managed a weak moan as he opened his mouth to

object. A weak moan first; then a scram of surprise as he came like a

cannon in Richard's firm but gentle hands.

Afterwards Paul tried to talk about it; to reprimand Richard, to tell

him how humiliating it had been - even if he had been the one starting

it - but Richard had infuriatingly simply turned it back on Paul. With

ridiculous ease he made Paul admit just how horny he had found the

situation and how much he enjoyed Richard taking charge without having a

say for himself.

That moment had been a key in their relationship and after three years

of extremely happy life as couple, Paul had come to realize that it was

probably what had saved them from the boredom that hit so many others.

Paul had always been unwilling to play the passive one, the submissive

one or as he called it "the weak one" in the relationships he had been

in before. Having no arms the role was all too natural to fall into and

Paul didn't want to be anybody's "poor little cripple". He wanted to be

his own man and he had succeeded. But Richard was different. Yes, he was

considerate of Paul's handicap, but he wasn't all over him, didn't go

out of his way to help Paul with every little thing. Instead he made the

help he gave Paul seem perfectly natural; simply a part of their

relationship. This had of course been the key to allowing Paul let down

his guard. Let down his guard and admit to himself that he actually was

a little submissive; that he liked his lover to take charge, set the

pace and perhaps even boss him around a little. He liked it when Richard

handled him in this way. Loved it in fact.

That first "unwilling" hand-job on the couch had been the starting point

for their games. At first it was a game played at home. Richard would

corner Paul at moments when no sexual tension was in the air and

masturbate him over heartfelt but weak protests and make him scream his

orgasms out.

Then it moved outside. The first time it caught Paul by complete

surprise - again. They were going to the opera and were both dressed

very sharply. Richard had just parked the car in the parking complex

just opposite the opera house. It was full of people, but where Richard

had parked it was for some reason empty of people, the nearest couple

some fifty yards away. Paul just managed to spot the mischievous look in

Richard's eye and then he was on him. With no words of any kind he

pressed Paul against a wall and with a practiced move had Paul's cock

out and in his hands in a second. They were out in the open and all it

would take for them to be spotted was for the nearest couple to turn

their heads. Paul was horrified. Horrified and suddenly very, very

excited. He tried hissing "no" to Richard but the sound became a

strangled moan and in absolutely no time he was on his way to a fabulous

orgasm. Eyes nearly popping out of his face with excitement and surprise

he shot his load nearly eight feet out on the concrete floor, past

Richard who just managed to step aside in time. As Paul looked at his

lover in amazement, Richard simply wiped his hands in Paul's underwear

and arranged his clothing properly. He then sealed his utterly

flabbergasted lover's mouth with a kiss and led him inside to enjoy the

opera.

Paul was in shock during the entire opera, both at Richard's actions and

at his own obvious excitement at being treated like that. He heard only

fragments of the opera and noticed very little but Richard's presence.

At the break, when they both stood in the grand hall sipping white wine

- Richard holding the glass to Paul's lips - Paul waited until no one

was close and asked: "What are you doing Richard? We could have been

spotted! What if we had been spotted?" Richard, his eyes sparkling with

mischief, chuckled maddeningly taking his time. Then he finally replied:

"I am giving you what you really want, while enjoying myself

enormously". Paul was outraged (and a little excited as well). No one

was going to tell him what he really wanted or needed, but when he said

this to Richard, his voice almost trembling with his outrage, all he got

was another round of derisive laughter: "Don't be coy honey", Richard

shot back, sounding a little annoyed now, "You got hard in a real hurry

and it's a long time since I've seen you cum so hard and fast". Paul

opened his mouth, but was cut off by Richard who continued: "It's the

same thing as when I corner you at home: You profess to hate it, yet you

cum so hard and fast it almost defies belief. Admit Paul; you like being

taken. You like being forced". Paul opened his mouth to object, but

caught the look in Richard's eye. He didn't look smug or superior or

anything like that. He was the same old Richard and he actually meant

what he said.

This realization made Paul think hard about it for the first time. Hard

and long. He didn't hear a single word of the rest of the opera; simply

stealing furtive glances at his love. When the opera finished and they

had returned to the car, sitting comfortably enveloped in its silent

luxury, he turned to Richard and said: "I'm sorry Richard. You are

right; I do love it when you force me, take me by surprise. It's

just..." he faltered, unsure of how to continue. Richard, God how Paul

loved him, simply sat and let him finish: "I'm still used to coping on

my own, being independent. It's hard to admit that I like it when you...

dominate me, or whatever it is that you do, but I do like it, it's just

... so new". Paul looked up to see Richard smiling a broad and loving

smile at him, looking every bit the man he loved. Before Paul had the

chance to say anything else, Richard leaned over and kissed him deeply

and passionately and for a long, long time leaving his lover slightly

dazed.

The daze didn't last for too long as Richard immediately began

exploiting his lover's newfound acceptance of his behavior. In a strong,

but somewhat awkward move, he lifted Paul up, out of the seat and

deposited him on the backseat of the car. Then he followed after and

soon Paul gaped in surprise as Richard pulled both of their pants down,

turned Paul around, placing his upper body against the backseat so that

he had his head almost against the rear window, and entered him from

behind. Paul was shocked: "Please Richard! We'll be seen... we can't...,

it's...", the rest was lost in a moan as Richard closed his hand around

his cock. The fuck was furious, fast paced and very hard, insistent and

almost brutal, and Paul was so excited that he had trouble keeping it

together. He moaned and screamed as his lover manipulated every little

inch of him and when an elderly couple stopped and looked in through the

window at him, shock painted on both their faces, he simply keened with

embarrassed lust, with humiliated passion, as he came like a cannon,

Richard joining him a second later, flooding his ass with cum.

The ride home felt unreal to Paul. Not only had he finally admitted his

excitement at letting Richard "force" him, but he had also realized for

the first time that he was an exhibitionist; that he got off at the risk

of being spotted as well as the actual fact of getting spotted.

Now Richard seemed determined to push Paul's limits, so Richard let him

sit in the front seat, cum still leaking from his ass, with his pants

pulled all the way down around his ankles, Richard using every available

moment to masturbate him and keeping him hard. The ride home was fairly

long, perhaps three quarters of an hour, and Richard soon had him hard

again. The fact that he was so excited so soon after a massive orgasm

spoke volumes about his newfound sexual nature. Paul noticed little

during that long trip, but right before he came again, he did notice a

woman looking in through the side window of the car. From where she

stood she wasn't able to see Richard, but she looked straight at Paul

who had his mouth open in a moan. The car was stopped for a red light in

the center of town. It was late and no pedestrians passed in front of

them as they waited. In fact the intersection was completely empty; no

cars in front and none behind. Paul, who could not tear his eyes away

from the woman, heard Richard chuckle in the background as he noticed

the woman.

The light changed to green but the car didn't move. The woman looked to

be in her fifties and was dressed very elegantly in designer boots and a

long, black leather coat. She was walking two large dogs, Dobermans by

the look, but both were occupied with sniffing a lamppost. As Paul sat

moaning, Richard manipulating his cock in plain view, the woman betrayed

no shock or revulsion at all. She had been surprised when first spotting

him, but now she just looked very interested. Interested and excited.

Her eyes seemed to shine and her lips were moist; slightly parted as her

tongue flicked out to wet them. She stole sideways glances in both

direction to be sure no one was around and then she parted her long

coat, lifted up her skirt and slipped her hand inside her black silk

panties and began masturbating. Richard took the cue perfectly and

rolled down the passenger side window and soon the only three sounds

filling the world were the discrete purring of the BMW and the not so

discrete rhythmic moaning of Paul and the woman. With the window open

the double excitement increased dramatically and to his immense

embarrassment Paul found that he was unable to stop himself from keening

with arousal, a sound matched by the pulsating, high and almost girlish

whining now coming from the woman. Paul came first, Richard expertly

directing his shot of cum out the window so that he actually hit the

woman's leather coat. This triggered the woman who came with a low

scream of passion and had to support herself on the roof of the car as

the aftershocks hit her.

When she had come down, she bent down slightly; leaning in the window as

she wiped Paul's cum off her jacket with her free hand and licked her

fingers clean. She smiled contentedly at first Paul then Richard and

whispered simply: "Thank you", before standing up and walking away with

her dogs as if nothing had happened.

There had been no one around to see what had happened and to Paul it

took on a surreal quality as Richard too drove on as if nothing untoward

had taken place. Had it not been for the fact that Paul's pants were

around his ankles, his cock felt deliciously overworked and that he sat

in a puddle of Richard's cum he would have felt like nothing had

happened at all.

When Richard parked the car in the parking basement, Paul thought that

the evening's shenanigans were over, but this proved to be not quite the

case. Richard helped Paul out of the car, but didn't pull up his pants.

In fact he took his sweet time wiping the cum of Paul's seat as Paul

stood exposed, out in the open with his ass bare for all to see. Paul,

not quite so relaxed with this new state of affairs, stood by imploring

Richard to please pull up his pants or someone might see them. Richard

didn't even look at him and infuriatingly Paul found himself go half

mast in spite of three orgasms in the last hours. When Richard finally

came back to Paul after first meticulously depositing the rag he had

used in a garbage can far, far away from the car, the let-up Paul had

been expecting was not forthcoming. Instead Richard smiled at Paul and

grabbed his cock. Then he turned around and using his cock as a leash of

sorts led the futilely protesting Paul towards the elevator. Shuffling

helplessly behind his lover, Paul was terrified of being spotted and

continuously tried to make Richard relent, but to no avail. No avail at

all.

Even inside the elevator Richard let Paul stand with his pants around

his ankles, completely ignoring his now fuming companion. Only inside

the apartment did he acknowledge Paul's presence, but not in a way Paul

had expected. Paul had expected the game to stop; for his pants to be

pulled up or off and normalcy restored. Not so, as Richard instead

grabbed Paul by the shoulder, holding on to the fabric of his jacket,

and stepped in the crook of Paul's knee, forcing him down on his knees.

Paul only just had time to open his mouth in protest when Richard filled

it completely with his own extremely excited cock. Finally! Even though

he hadn't realized it himself, Paul had been waiting for this moment,

hoping for it all along; the moment when he would be "forced" to blow

Richard, the domineering bastard who now excited him more than ever.

Chapter 3: Building Mr. Wrong

It was a door that once opened, would remain open. Richard certainly

didn't display any interest in abandoning it and Paul couldn't go back

even if he sometimes told himself that things were going a little too

far. Once Richard had his cock out he was lost; the more exposed, the

better.

Richard took the game to new levels almost weekly. At first it was

masturbating Paul in the open at night. Then they moved to fucking and

on to Paul being forced to his knees after being jerked off. It started

at night with a low exposure risk, but soon it changed to ever more

dangerous hours. Richard managed the most fantastic things; the crowning

achievement being when he masturbated Paul in broad daylight as they

were taking a Sunday stroll ending with Paul depositing his massive load

on the trunk lid of a police car with two officers sitting inside with

their backs turned, drinking coffee, completely unaware of what was

going on.

At home the "assaults" gradually displaced their more regular,

"vanilla", sex, with the exception of the morning shower sex which both

enjoyed immensely. It happened with Paul's approval, even if he never

said it explicitly to Richard. The fact of the matter was that the new

state of things was just so amazing and arousing, so erotic, so

exciting! He never knew when Richard might pounce on him now or what he

would do to him or be "forced" to do. As a consequence Paul now walked

around in a constant haze of excitement, seemingly always semi-erect or

worse.

Richard threw him down on the floor right inside the elevator door,

literally ripping off his clothes before fucking him with such fury and

passion that Paul managed to cum twice before Richard came.

In a crowded subway train Richard managed to force Paul into a corner

and make him blow him while a group of teenage girls first gaped, then

tittered as Richard smiled at them while flooding Paul's mouth. No one

else on the train seemed to notice, but Paul spotted two of the girls

discretely fondling each other's asses on the way out of the train.

Blindfolding him early one Sunday morning, Richard subjected Paul to a

day-long series of unseen, but definitely not unfelt, assaults on his

naked lover until Paul early in the evening, after having lost count

around the twelfth orgasm, begged Richard to stop.

At a public concert in the park, Richard managed to slit the crotch of

Paul's jeans open with a pair of scissors and deposit him on his cock,

riding Paul standing up in the middle of a crowd of jeering concert

goers. Lifted up among the many others and jerked up and down as Richard

moved towards an orgasm Paul had real trouble keeping himself from

moaning with passion even if Richard this time kept his hands off Paul's

cock altogether. When Richard did cum, he simply lifted Paul off his

cock, wiped it off in Paul's jeans and zipped up, continuing as if

nothing had happened. Paul on the other hand spent the entire concert

blushing and looking around to see if anyone had spotted them. His

blushing didn't go away when Richard took him over to the line of bushes

in the park that acted as unofficial concert urinal. Here, while pissing

as expected, he took out Paul's member too and jerked him off in plain

view of all the other men watching. Some wrinkled their noses, but the

four or five closest all smiled and showered Paul with humorous remarks.

And on and on it went. Amazingly they still remained close, talking to

each other about everything, never letting their much increased sex life

take over completely. Most amazing of all, to Paul at least, was that

Richard never tried to move his sexual dominance over into their

"regular" life. He was still the same old, considerate Richard.

That, however, changed, subtly at first, as they explored the ferocious

sexuality together.

One Sunday evening after yet another furious fuck, they both sat naked

in front of the laptop. Richard occasionally stroked Paul's cock

absently and Paul snuggled up against his strong lover. They were

looking at various porn images and films when they stumbled upon the

image which would change everything eventually. It was an image of a

really attractive young man in light bondage. He was completely naked

and his arms were bound behind his back, pulled so far back it almost

created the illusion that he had no arms. On his feet was a pair of

black stilettos heels, very high, perhaps six inches. They were shiny

and had a thin strap encircling the young man's ankles. He looked

amazing; sexy and helpless at the same time, but the real power of the

image lay in those heels, forcing him to stand on his toes, stretching

his legs sexily and pushing his pelvis slightly forward.

Both Paul and Richard had of course seen men in women's clothing,

including shoes, before but none of these images had had the same power

as this one. It wasn't so much the fact that the man looked a little -

very little - like Paul, or the fact that he appeared almost armless in

the image. It was the heels and what they did to his body posture. It

was as if both for the first time actually noticed these effects.

Without speaking a word they turned towards each other. Paul had felt

himself grow in Richard's hand and now he was rock hard. Speaking oddly

haltingly and with a voice that was a little choked, Paul said: "Can I

have a pair of shoes like that. Please?" Richard looked at him with some

surprise at the emotion, but was clearly excited by the idea and agreed

with a tiny nod. Fifteen minutes later Richard had found a pair of shoes

of the same kind as young man's but much better looking and of much

better quality in a web shop. Paul wanted to object to Richard buying a

pair of designer shoes at a completely outrageous price, just to put a

little extra excitement into their already perfect sex life, but stopped

himself before even beginning. He wanted those shoes too; wanted to

prance around in them for Richard; wanted to wear them as Richard filled

his ass with his cum, making his younger lover scream with delight at

the same time.

The upside of buying at an upscale web shop for designer clothes and

shoes was the next day delivery service. That evening, an otherwise

ordinary Monday night, their lovemaking was completely out of control.

From the second the shoe box had been opened till they went to bed at

night - late, very late - Paul had been naked and in heels. It was just

so powerful: The posture, the thing it did for his legs and ass, the

helplessness that followed with their use. Richard couldn't keep either

eyes or hands off Paul and for the first time in his life Paul tried

riding a cock while eating, a more than little disturbing experience.

The shoes were beautiful; black leather with thin five inch heels and a

narrow strap around Paul's ankle. They drove both Richard and Paul into

some sort of frenzy and the following week both hurried home from work

just so that Paul could put them on and Richard could fuck him

senseless. Around Wednesday both of their cocks were getting a little

raw, but somehow this only seemed to make matters more exciting.

After ten days Paul tried counting and was astonished to find that

during that period he had cum a minimum of eight times a day. A minimum

of eight times a day!

The heels were sexy in more ways that just body posture and the slight

helplessness that came from not being able to walk and run normally. For

an armless man like Paul, who could do perform almost all the tasks a

normal man could using his feet, having a pair of heels actually

strapped to his feet so that he couldn't take them off himself, made him

extra helpless. Completely reliant on Richard in fact. Richard made no

secret of just how sexy he thought that was and Paul, who had begun

admitting his own latent submissiveness to himself, reluctantly had to

agree. It was sexy, it was erotic; it was somehow intoxicating that the

man he loved could control him utterly using nothing more complicated

than a pair of sexy shoes. Had Richard been a bastard about it he would

have become nervous, but when not screwing him with frenzied intensity

Richard treated his lover like royalty; wrapping him in soft and warm

blankets, hand-feeding him tenderly, holding his cock when peeing and so

forth. It was as if Richard, when not fucking him, took the opportunity

to act extra caring for Paul, bordering on the over-protective, and it

was obviously part of the attraction for both that he could do so. Paul

became almost like submissive putty in Richard's hands when he was held

tightly after an orgasm and was utterly helpless in his heels.

The games evolved over time. Richard would have Paul "practice" walking

in heels for him; a thin excuse to see his lover prance around sexily in

heels. Light, playful denial came into when Richard would "force" Paul

do act in a special way before touching his cock.

Then Richard moved them outside. At first he simply substituted Paul's

regular loafers for the heels on a little walk on a Sunday night. Paul,

in jeans, a sweater and light jacket, was mortified and objected loudly

as Richard put them on his feet, but he didn't fight him and when they

stood in the elevator Richard simply ignored his objections with an

irritatingly smug smile. The streets were almost deserted. Almost. They

passed a few people as they walked and all noticed, casting meaningful

looks at both of them. Paul spent the whole trip in a state of high

embarrassment (and excitement) hissing at Richard, who simply ignored

him. Ignored him until they stood in front of a big window display,

looking at high-priced kitchenware. He waited until a couple had passed

behind them and then he pounced: in a flash he had Paul's cock out in

the open and before Paul knew it he was moaning as Richard brought him

to a thundering orgasm in less than three minutes. Paul saw his own

surprised, orgasmic face reflected in the window as he deposited a large

splotch of cum on it. Stunned as he was at this turn, Paul became

outright shocked and outraged at what Richard did next - not least

because of his own arousal at the moment: Richard slipped Paul's member

back in his pants, walked him four steps to the corner of the building

and in one smooth move forced Paul to his knees while inserting his own

erect member into Paul's all too eagerly waiting mouth. To his later

regret Paul actually keened with excitement as he sucked Richard for all

he was worth and all he was able to grasp of the world was the pulsating

cock in his mouth.

Later, back home, as they went to bed, Paul berated Richard; it had been

too much, too adventurous, too risky. Smiling easily (and very

annoyingly) Richard dismissed Paul's concerns as ludicrous since his

excitement had been so clear. Besides, as Richard pointed out, they had

done far more risky things, such the stunt with the police car, without

getting caught. And even if they did get caught, so what? To drive his

point home, he grabbed Paul's cock and masturbated it gently for about

ten seconds, bringing Paul to full mast. Then he pulled the blanket up

to Paul's chin, turned his back to Paul and went to sleep. Paul felt

like screaming. Screaming with rage and helpless arousal. Because

Richard was right and had even underplayed just how much the expeditions

turned Paul on. Paul felt trapped by his very own desires and the fact

that his lover, lover in every sense of the word, now not only had him

completely figured out but also used this knowledge made Paul more than

a little nervous; scared in fact. Scared - and horny. So horny that Paul

lay with a very insistent erection, there despite nine orgasms that day,

unable to sleep.

Richard ramped things up a week later by buying a new pair of shoes for

Paul. These made Paul even hornier than the pair he already had. Of

obvious quality the shoes were made from highly polished black leather,

held only Paul's heel and toes, the latter being compressed sexily, but

not uncomfortably, in a very sharp point while leaving most of his foot

exposed. The shoes were petite and elegant and only a very narrow

bridge-like sole connected the pointy toe with the heel. An ultra thin

strap with a tiny buckle secured the shoes to his feet, again rendering

Paul exquisitely helpless. They had very, very thin six inch heels in

the same polished black quality as the shoe itself. Paul took to them

like a duck to water, surprising both Richard and himself by walking in

them perfectly from the second they slipped on.

The purchase again sparked a round of intense sexual activity and Paul

counted a week of no less than at least nine orgasms a day and one where

they were both naked from the moment they walked in the door at night

until they left for work in the morning.

After the first week of desperate frolicking Richard again moved things

a bit up, but this time in a somewhat more subtle way and one which Paul

accepted at once, but didn't really notice until about three weeks after

it had taken effect. After the first week of almost desperate fucking

they resumed a somewhat more normal routine where they actually wore

clothes at home. Somewhere in the transition from frantic, naked

frolicking to normal sexual habits (normal, but hectic) and standard

home wear, Richard managed to get Paul to wear heels at home all the

time, from entering in the evening to going to bed at night. It all

seemed so natural that Paul didn't notice until three weeks later when

he stood idle one evening, suddenly aware that he hadn't helped around

the house that whole time. Instantly guilty he went to Richard to ask

him to take the shoes off him so that he could do his share, be more a

part of what went on at home. Richard smiled sweetly and kissed his

lover, holding him tightly, and said that he liked it like this; that he

really wanted to do the all he could for Paul, following up this with a

very rare remark from him: "I love you Paul". Paul had never been in any

doubt about that fact, not for one second, but Richard was a man who

very rarely said so out loud. Paul, being held tightly by his lover who

not only declared his love for but backed it up with kisses and the

willingness to do things for him, began to cry with happiness. Richard

(that maddeningly perfect man!) of course comforted him, kissing and

caressing him gently until he stopped crying. Then, feeling flooded by a

wave of gratitude, Paul dropped to his knees and used his lips and teeth

to gently extract Richard from his trousers and blow him ever so slowly

until his big lover actually screamed out with orgasmic joy as he came,

flooding Paul's mouth completely. After that it was just the way things

were. Paul now wore heels all the time around the house and was as such

reduced to being the pretty boyfriend who hovered around his lover like

a moth around a flame. A powerful flame.

This game evolved further so that Paul now put on his heels the moment

he stepped out of bed and as such had to be helped with everything. It

came about at Richard's suggestion of course and Paul had had to think

carefully about it, but once accepted it reduced Paul's independence

drastically, even alarmingly. Every aspect of his personal hygiene now

had to be handled by Richard; a development Paul was at first very

reluctant to accept. However, once he had accepted it he found that it

strengthened his natural submissiveness something awful and having

Richard care for his every need, catering to him all the time, made him

feel so very special, so very cherished and valued.

Shaving had always been a pain for Paul, but using a special arrangement

with a fixed electric razor and moving his head instead of the razor he

had always managed. Managed, but always hated the chore. Richard one day

offered a solution. Being a plastic surgeon and used to many aspects of

"beauty maintenance" as he called it, he also had knowledge of hair

removal techniques. Permanent as well as semi-permanent ones. Dismissing

the semi-permanent ones as nonsense, he suggested to Paul a permanent

facial hair removal. A little scared at the prospect of never growing

any kind of facial hair, Paul first drew back to consider. But a day of

consideration brought him to only one conclusion: It was a damned good

idea! He would never have the dexterity in his feet to manage complex

problems with facial hair, like special beard shapes and besides he

wasn't really into facial hair, either for himself or for his lover.

Soon Richard had it all arranged and paid for and only three days later

and after a completely painless procedure Paul emerged from the clinic

of one of Richard's colleagues with an utterly smooth face. He loved the

feeling and the way home was spent leaned in over Richard's crotch

blowing him.

Perhaps he should have seen the next development coming, but he didn't.

He was taken completely by surprise when Richard suggested that they

shave Paul's legs and crotch area - not permanently - to make him smooth

below the waist. And now they were taking that course, why not shave off

all hair beneath the chin? Surprised as he may have been, Paul

nonetheless liked the idea and immediately agreed. Standing in front of

a mirror wearing only his new heels right after Richard had shaved his

body, Paul not only liked the idea; he loved it! Fuck, but he looked

good with a smooth and hairless body! He looked so good he was willing

to chase after his loved for a chance to suck him if need be. There was

no need and soon he had his head pressed into Richard's crotch as both

lay on the heated tile floor of the bathroom. Here Paul again

deepthroated Richard. The look on Richard's face as his cock slid deep

into Paul's throat was so rewarding that Paul actually came on the floor

right there and then. Ok he had been involuntarily humping the small,

furry carpet in the bathroom, but still; it was the look on Richard's

face that pushed him over the edge.

Paul's enchantment with his smooth and hairless body was so strong that

after only three weeks he begged Richard for a permanent hair removal

for all of his body. He didn't want a single, tiny hair below the

eyebrows.

Richard, while obviously enormously attracted to the idea, was the one

who tried to slow things down a little, or rather seemed to do so. Paul

would later review his actions and determine that it was around that

time he first spotted Mr. Wrong in Richard's eyes. He didn't know so at

the time, but this was the first of that evil man he saw. It had been a

certain glint in his eye when he suggested that it might be better to

wait with the hair removal. Only when looking back at it Paul realized

that the way the suggestion had been put forward had only fuelled his

wish for it. Looking back it had been very cleverly done. Scary clever.

But at the time Paul had been unawares and had been pleasantly goosed by

the possessive glint that had come into Richard's eye when they had

talked about it. In any case it had only been a day from talking to

doing and when Paul had once again stood naked and smooth - now

permanently smooth - in the bathroom, the blowjob he had delivered had

been even hornier than the first.

Chapter 4: Mr. Wrong reveals himself

The final push came a few weeks later and at the time Paul actually

thought it had been his own idea. They had been surfing porn, as they

sometimes did together to get their juices up for a new round of sex,

when Richard happened by a picture of a young man with his cock locked

away in a chastity device. The picture was there only for short time

before Richard navigated away, seemingly not interested in it. But Paul

had seen it; seen such a picture for the first time in his life. It had

looked very sexy, even if he wasn't entirely sure that it was for. He

had a pretty good idea, but he wasn't sure so he asked Richard to

navigate back to it. Fuck, it looked sexy! When Richard saw how excited

Paul had become he casually - oh so casually! - asked Paul if he should

buy one for him? Richard didn't seem too interested himself, but Paul

briefly caught that possessive glimpse in his eyes. It had been very

brief and at the time Paul told himself he had imagined it. And Paul

wanted to try that chastity thing out. Did he ever want to try it out!

Only two days later Richard fitted him with the device, a thing made

from clear plastic which held his cock snuggly and securely, gently but

firmly preventing him from getting hard. Which was all that Paul's cock

tried to do from the second it went on. It had been on for all of two

minutes when Paul asked Richard to take it off so that they could fuck

properly. It simply made him so enormously horny that he just had to

cum. Richard smiled sweetly, calmly, at this and said: "No. It's a

chastity device remember? It's there to keep that naughty cock of yours

under control and prevent you from cuming. Now you be a good boy and I

might let you cum later tonight." Then he turned and walked out of the

bedroom and into the living room, leaving Paul wearing only his high

heels and his chastity device.

Paul was dumbstruck. Somehow he hadn't seen this coming, although now

that he thought about it, he couldn't really see how he could have

missed it. Still, that didn't mean that Richard could just do that to

him without warning. He was horny! He needed release! Now! As if to

confirm this, his cock grew so hard - or at least tried to - that it

actually hurt him. Strangely this didn't make his erection go away, but

rather made it a semi-permanent feature. Mincing as quickly as he could

after Richard, he demanded to be released, to be allowed to cum. Paul

had caught up with Richard in the kitchen, where he stood with his back

to Paul fixing a cup of coffee. Now he turned around and looked at

straight at him. The look in Richard's eyes stopped Paul cold. He looked

at Paul with the most coldly possessive eyes he had ever seen; like Paul

was an object which he desired - greatly. Involuntarily Paul gasped and

stepped back, scared at what he suddenly saw in the man he loved. And

yet, scared as he was he was also very, very excited. For the first time

the pain from his compressed cock became acute, sharp as his imprisoned

member desperately tried escaping. This pressure did not diminish as

Richard spoke: "You do not demand anything, sweetie," he said coldly,

"You ask nicely for whatever it is that you would like. You beg, if you

really want it. Understood?" Suddenly Paul felt trapped and very

helpless. Helpless and very, very submissive. Without really realizing

it he had given up control almost completely to his lover and now

Richard had done the natural thing: He had assumed control. Complete

control. Not only had he assumed it; he had also begun using it or

abusing it, depending on how you saw it.

Staring wide eyed at Richard; a man who had been so kind, caring and

loving; a man he loved more than anyone in the world, Paul realized for

the first time that he might have misjudged the man he loved. That he

might have missed, overlooked, the man who now stood towering above him.

This scared Paul badly, since he was completely at his mercy. He was

naked and in heels and thus without any chance to fight him. Also this

new Richard made him horny in a way that was decidedly unhealthy. It

wasn't right being aroused at being treated so harshly.

But nonetheless, that was how he felt: helpless, submissive and horny.

Meekly, very meekly and in the smallest of voices he replied: "Yes

Richard, I understand. May I please be released from this cock cage?

Please?" He added hopefully, looking up at Richard with imploring eyes.

Richard didn't even crack a smile as he replied: "No." Paul started and

opened his mouth, but Richard beat him to it: "You are going to have to

work for your release from that device and for your orgasm. Work hard to

please me all day and I may choose to let you cum. May." Paul's eyes

widened with shock. "But..." he started. He didn't get any further as

the look in Richard's eyes intensified and Richard spoke in low menacing

tones: "Think very carefully about what you are going to say if you want

to cum today". Paul had never considered this outcome, in spite of what

a chastity device is obviously meant for and he continued to stammer:

"But, but..." He was really scared at the turn things had taken now. It

was as if he couldn't recognize Richard at all, as if he was under the

control of a cruel stranger. He stood wide eyed, mouth gaping stupidly

and stared at his lover. Or rather at the new version of his lover.

The situation made him nervous and scared yes, but also aroused. It was

somehow erotic to be dominated like that and again he was reminded that

he really was a bit submissive. Or rather quite submissive, or maybe

even very submissive now that he thought about it. Trapped and utterly

submissive now, Paul came to the conclusion that no matter what he was

going to do afterwards he had better start behaving as Richard wanted

him to right now. And when it came right down to it, wasn't that also

what he wanted too?

Meekly, very carefully and submissively, he asked: "Richard please, how

can I please you? May I suck your cock, please?" A broad grin on

Richard's face indicated that indeed he could, but here too things

turned out differently than normal. He got on his knees as usual, but

from there thing were very different. First of all the blowjob wasn't

really a blowjob, but rather a very vigorous face-fucking with Richard

pumping his cock in and out of Paul's mouth and throat as the poor

defenseless cocksucker tried to catch up, to breathe. Second Richard

didn't cum in Paul's mouth as usual, but instead withdrew at the last

second and gave him a facial. A very large and sticky facial. Not only

that; he also left Paul like that after the blowjob was: on his knees

with cum running down his face.

Paul was shocked and appalled and more than a little humiliated. The

sticky liquid drying on his face as he knelt inside a now empty kitchen

was somehow extra demeaning and humiliating. And getting up from a

kneeling position in high heels when you have no arms proved challenging

even for Paul. Once up he had no choice but to follow Richard into the

living room, where he was ignored and left standing as Richard drank his

coffee and read the newspaper. When Paul made as if to sit down, Richard

looked up and simply shook his head. He kept eye contact with Paul as he

opened his mouth to object and so this objection died before it had even

been uttered.

After about an hour Richard relented a little and wiped Paul's face

nearly clean with a dry piece of paper, but this proved to be about as

merciful as it would get as Paul could look forward to a whole day of

humiliation and servitude and being Saturday morning, it literally meant

a whole day.

Pleasing Richard proved to be far more demanding than "just" being

subjected to demeaning fucks or blowjobs. Paul danced show dances, quick

and slow, for his lover, wormed his way across the entire apartment on

his belly to show Richard his willingness to obey and even pressed

himself down on a dildo Richard somehow magically produced just to

please him. And apart from the time he spent worming his way across the

apartment Richard made him stand up in his heels all day long. It was

infuriating; it was demeaning beyond words, more humiliating than

anything Paul had ever experienced and is was the horniest and sexiest

experience he had ever been subjected to in his life. It was so sexy and

scary that Paul resolved to have a very serious talk with Richard when

this as over, because this was just plain unhealthy.

But Richard certainly had a fantastic time (as did Paul without

admitting it), fucking Paul or fucking with him at every turn and when

night came - late, very late - he didn't want to stop in spite of more

than fourteen orgasms and an extremely raw cock. So instead of releasing

Paul from the cock cage and restoring normal life, he wrapped Paul up

very, very tightly, first in one thin, cotton bed sheet, then another

and finally in a thick blanket, leaving only Paul's head and the very

tips of his feet, still in heels, sticking out of the roll. Then he

secured the roll with two belts and carried the weakly protesting Paul

over to the couch and laid him down there. He then took a sleep mask and

placed it over Paul's eyes and left the room, going to bed while leaving

Paul to stew - and perhaps sleep - on the living room couch.

Paul slept precious little for the first many hours. He was mad, he was

scared and he was hornier than hell. He was mad at Richard for treating

him an object or slave if you came right down to it. He was scared

because he had never seen this side of Richard before, scared of what it

meant for their future as a couple, scared for his well being and

finally scared of his own very submissive reaction, which led to his

almost frightening horniness. His cock hurt badly from pressing against

the plastic cage for so many hours and the sheet became wet with his

juices as he lay there dripping. Finally, after stewing for many hours,

but without in any way trying to escape from his bonds, Paul fell

asleep, dreaming of frustrated cocks, high heels and cruel lovers.

He woke up to Richard shaking him none too gently, calling: "Wake up

Paul, wake up". At first he couldn't understand why he couldn't see, but

after some more shaking he remembered his situation and opened his mouth

to reply only to feel how Richard pressed his cock into his mouth. That

snapped him awake! He tried escaping, pulling away, but Richard simply

held his head and pressed into his mouth. Paul tried screaming now, both

frightened and angry, but this only resulted in Richard's cock moving

further into his mouth and soon his lover had begun yet another furious

face-fuck. Thrashing and screaming with fear Paul had no choice but to

take the cock, which occasionally came right down into his throat,

cutting off air, but finally Richard came, this time flooding his mouth

instead of his face.

Again Richard infuriated and scared him by just leaving him afterwards,

trying to breathe normally as cum ran out of his mouth. It occurred to

him that he had actually been raped by his lover, but somehow the

thought was too big, too oppressive and didn't he also feel a little

aroused at being taken like that? The guilt following the last thought

was a blow to the gut as it was inevitably followed by the realization

that he HAD been raped. Richard had just raped his mouth; raped him!

Richard! Gentle and loving Richard had just raped him!

Only Richard either didn't see it that way or - even worse - didn't

care. He continued his imprisonment of Paul throughout the next day,

Sunday, and Paul had to admit it was horny. Horny as hell. So horny in

fact that when Richard finally removed the chastity device at night Paul

came right then and there with no other stimulus needed than Richard

holding his cock lightly in his hand. Paul had wanted to talk seriously

to Richard about what he had done to him, but he somehow never had the

chance. The orgasm that came just from Richard holding his cock had been

so powerful that he actually almost blacked out. After that Richard

began kissing and fondling him gently and in no time Paul had his legs

wrapped around Richard while he was being fucked and Richard's hands

manipulated Paul's cock expertly as Paul screamed out how much he loved

Richard. It was amazing, unbelievable, and again scary somehow as

Richard managed to extract three fabulous orgasms from his not very

reluctant lover (slave?) before they both fell asleep, Paul again with

his shoes on.

The next morning, after yet another glorious morning fuck, Paul finally

managed to bring it up; to make Richard understand or explain or at

least have some kind of position on the subject. "Please Richard", he

started, "This may be erotic as hell, but it's also wrong." Richard

looked at him uncomprehendingly. "You practically raped me, Richard",

Paul finally managed to say out loud and went on describe how wrong it

had been for Richard to force him while lying on the couch. To Paul's

immense relief this somehow seemed to get through as Richard seemed to

think it over. After a good long while Richard looked at Paul again and

said: "Hmm... I am sorry that's how you felt, because that sure wasn't

what I had in mind", Paul felt overjoyed that Richard accepted this, but

then Richard went on: "But it didn't feel that way to me. The whole

weekend, which I now hear you describe as some kind of assault, felt as

if you were reveling in it, loving it; loving being forced". The happy

feeling was gone. Paul saw that his arguments hadn't gotten through at

all and what was worse was that gleam in Richard's eyes, the possessive

one, was back. With a vengeance. "You loved it Paul. Admit it." He had

loved it, but that wasn't the point Paul thought. The point was that it

had been done entirely without his consent. Of course Richard could

argue that their previous outings and public séances had been the same

and that Paul had accepted them (almost) without protest and that this

was just more of the same. Except it wasn't and they both knew it. This

was different because of the amount of force used; because where Paul

had previously had at least the theoretical possibility to escape, there

had no such possibility this time around. Richard had tied him up, had

continued his sexual advances over Paul's protests, had restricted his

movements, his freedom, without consent for a whole weekend. That was

different. Very different.

But Richard just pressed on. He took out the chastity device again and

over Paul's objections, and using an ice-pack to put down Paul's

erection, he fitted what was now effectively his slave boy with it. Paul

was scared, disappointed and humiliated beyond words, but it wasn't

until they were in the elevator on their way to work that he realized

just how violated he was. Richard had locked his cock up; enslaved him

in plain view and there was nothing Paul dared do about it. They lived

together and Paul was utterly dependent on Richard for most everyday

things. The whole world; Paul's co-workers and even Paul's parents and

brother thought that Richard was a great guy, loved him for being so

considerate to Paul, that changing their view of this would be very

hard. Harder still showing them the chastity device and claiming he

hadn't wanted it himself. Getting out of this relationship would be very

difficult, not least because he still loved Richard, that bastard, and

because there was no denying the fact that the games made him supremely

horny. He had to devise a strategy for breaking free from Richard, but

until he had such a strategy he would have to play along.

Playing along proved to be an extremely trying, exhausting and erotic

maneuver. Richard ramped things up almost at once. Without it ever being

spoken out loud as an order, Paul now had to wear heels all the time at

home, including when sleeping and as a new feature even in the shower.

Magically Richard already the next morning produced a pair of plastic

stilettos with a one inch platform and seven inch heels which Paul could

wear while showering. Clothes while at home were also abolished that

very evening.

Richard tightened the screw a little more all the time. The intervals

which Paul wore the chastity device lengthened gradually: first it was

two days, then four, then a week, then two weeks and finally a month.

This furthermore had the - for Paul - undesired side effect that Paul

began to have trouble thinking straight for extended periods of time as

he was just too horny to think about anything else than when he would be

allowed to cum the next time. A little less than a week into Paul's

chastity wearing period, Richard introduced slave training and

conditioning every day. At first it was simple: Paul was forbidden to

sit or lie down without permission. Then he had to ask for permission

for everything he did until finally he was forbidden to speak unless

spoken to and made to obey every command or get beaten.

The beatings were the worst for Paul, hateful and miserable. All the

other things Richard had done to him, while still cause enough for him

to plan his exit, had aroused Paul at some level, played to his

erotically submissive side. Not so the beatings. At first they were

simple and somehow playful; over the knee spankings. Then they evolved

through belts, straps, paddles, whips and crops until Paul screamed for

mercy when being "corrected" as Richard called it.

Three months after first being raped, face fucked against his will, Paul

had still not come a single step closer to liberating himself from

Richard and had not managed to make single of his friends or family

aware of his plight. While Paul now stood at attention waiting for

orders and called Richard "Master" and his ass and thighs bore the red,

hateful marks of Richard's beatings, his surroundings still thought that

Richard was a great guy and that they were a dream couple. Paul was

trapped.

Paul had still not made any ground on this when one Monday morning

everything changed. He had just come to work, when all the employees

were called to a meeting. The meeting was short and bitter. The company

was bankrupt and they had all been fired. While Paul had known for some

time that all was not well, the message was a shock to everyone,

including himself. And just like that, half an hour later, they all

stood outside the building as it closed down for good.

Someone asked if he wasn't going to call Richard and out of habit and

unwillingness to admit his actual situation he did, telling him

tearfully about what had just happened. Richard perversely played the

considerate lover and immediately offered to come pick him up, but Paul

said no as him and his closest co-workers had just agreed to go for

drink. Soon they sat in a fairly upscale bar at ten in the morning

drinking Margaritas and such, moaning and bitching about the bankruptcy.

Paul didn't drink much and late in afternoon they all parted ways amid

promises to keep up to date.

Paul walked to the nearest subway station, taking a shortcut through a

short alley. The alley was a dark and deserted, but not very long and

the neighborhood was very good, very safe and secure. Paul was more than

a little surprised when someone stepped out of the shadows and even more

surprised when that someone turned out to be Richard. Paul stopped in

surprise as his lover - his Master - approached with a warm and

comforting smile on his face. He looked just like the Richard he had

fallen in love with years ago and for a few seconds Paul got all weak

and soft. Maybe this was a new start, the return of his old lover.

Richard hugged his lover and Paul sighed with relief and joy. Then he

felt a sharp stab in his buttock and cried out, trying and failing to

pull away. "Hush baby," Richard whispered, "you're all mine now, forever

and ever". A sickening look of extreme possessiveness was once more in

Richard's eyes and Paul opened his mouth to scream in terror, for help,

but no words came. His whole body was going numb and he couldn't speak

at all. With surprising speed his body went limp and he plunged down a

black hole, his consciousness disappearing in a blink.

Chapter 5: In Mr. Wrong's possession

Paul woke up feeling somehow hung-over, at first not quite clear on what

had happened. He felt extremely sluggish and unable to even open his

eyes. Gradually the world came back; filled in. He became aware that

something wasn't as it should be. His cock hurt, he was unable to pull

his legs apart and he couldn't see. Then he remembered what had happened

and a scream bubbled up his throat only to die right before his mouth.

It died as a result of the realization that if Richard had taken him,

crying for help wouldn't help at all. This was instantly confirmed by a

low chuckle coming from right next to him. Of course Richard would know

his exact weight and would be able to dose him so that he would know the

exact time he woke up. Paul suddenly got extremely nervous about what

was going on. This was a serious escalation, even when compared to the

last three months of effectively sexual slavery.

Richard did nothing to ease his fear: "I have decided - a decision taken

some time ago - that I want you as my slave and not just for the few

hours you and I are together at home. I want you 24/7. For good. I need

to own you; to control you and to dominate you completely." Paul was now

utterly still; afraid to even breathe as Richard continued: "You've done

something to me Paul, turned me into some kind of controlling monster

and now you are paying the price. Don't get me wrong; I like what I have

become, but if you hadn't goaded me into forcing you that first time or

introduced heels into our sex life, I never would have had these ideas,

would never have gone down this path. I would have remained safe,

reliable old Richard for the rest of my life". Richard actually sounded

annoyed, angry even, as he obviously thought that his becoming a

sadistic monster had been Paul's fault. The sound of Richard's voice,

warped beyond anything he had ever heard from his lover; now the voice

of a kidnapper and possibly a maniac, made Paul emit a small, lost and

utterly involuntary keening noise as he recognized that this was going

to end badly for himself. Very badly. The sound made Richard laugh out

loud, a huge sound of genuine mirth erupting from deep in his belly. "Oh

yes, my little bitch", he laughed, "You're really in for it now and the

best part is that it is your own, damned fault!"

Finally Paul felt he had to speak; to object: "Look Richard", he started

before two vicious slaps silenced him. "Stupid slut", Richard screamed

into his face, "you are property now! My property! And if you speak

again without permission I promise you'll spend the rest of the evening

screaming in pain! Now shut up!"

This scared Paul silent and Richard continued: "I had made elaborate

plans for how I was going to make you disappear without a trace and do

so without implicating myself, which is quite hard as it turns out; so

hard in fact I hadn't come up with a really good plan yet, just a few

almost good enough plans. But the collapse your company really is a

gift. This way you simply vanished on your way home under circumstances

I had no way of controlling. All I have to do now is make sure you stay

hidden for the rest of your life. And those plans and preparations have

been made a long time ago".

Paul was just about to object when Richard removed his blindfold and

allowed him to see again. Richard even propped up his head so that Paul

could see down his own body. What he saw didn't ease Paul's mind in any

way. On his feet was a pair of stiletto boots he had never seen before;

very pointy toes and very, very thin metal heels which looked very high

(they were six and a half inches) and the boots reached all the way up

to his knees, laced very tightly up the front. Now that he saw them Paul

realized that his feet did feel compressed in an uncomfortable manner,

as if wearing too small shoes. That sensation was wholly explained by

what he saw. He also saw that his legs were tied together with something

as mundane as cling film, compressing them from the ankles to mid-thigh.

But the most alarming sight was his cock, now free of the chastity

device. The reason it was free, was that a catheter had been pressed up

inside him, explain why his cock felt so sore. Looking at it Paul had

real trouble comprehending how his cock was able to withstand the abuse;

the catheter looked to be of enormous diameter.

Paul looked up at Richard with pleading eyes and said: "Please Richard,

please. You can't... I won't, I..., it's just..." Paul was panicking -

losing it - and they both knew it. Richard had an overbearing look on

his face and let Paul stammer for a while before closing his mouth with

a vicious slap, delivered, chillingly enough, with a big, warm smile on

his face. He didn't even speak. He simply shut up his terrified armless

slave with a slap and the proceeded to explain Paul how it would be best

if he cooperated with the next step. Otherwise it would be very painful.

Paul had never been so scared in his life. He could see no way out, no

help possible; only complete and total compliance with Richard's insane

demands seemed to be an option. And by doing so he would no doubt doom

himself beyond the possibility of salvation. He was utterly screwed

either way.

First Richard cleaned Paul's mouth and nose very thoroughly, in and out,

a very unpleasant process. Then he sprayed a mild anesthetic into Paul's

nose and processed to press two clear plastic tubes into Paul's nostrils

and continue to press until he was satisfied that he had reached the

lungs. Had Richard not secured Paul to the bed he lay in with straps, he

would have struggled like mad, but as it was he only had options of

gasping, retching and making pathetic panicky noises. Then came an even

bigger tube which Richard somehow managed to push all the way down into

Paul's stomach, leaving a tear streaked slave in near panic but utterly

silent as his vocal chords were now disabled.

Looking very pleased with himself Richard released Paul from the bed and

stood him up. Paul was utterly passive as he adjusted to the new heels

while fighting off panic. Had he not already been fitted with a catheter

he would have pissed himself with fear, but as it was even that was

denied him.

Richard was, however, far from done. Hooking a finger through the ring

of the collar Paul hadn't even noticed he was wearing, he led his slave

through the apartment while explain that in a few hours he would first

call his old colleagues to ask if Paul was with them. Then he would call

Paul's parents and brother, some other friends of theirs and finally the

police. He would play the concerned lover first until evidence

suggesting that Paul had died, evidence Richard had already made well in

advance, would surface after which he would play the bereaved and

mourning gay husband before reluctantly moving on. And the best part, as

he explained with a completely insane look on his face, was that Paul

would be able to follow all of it as it went on.

Paul didn't understand how he would be able to follow his own

disappearance and its effects, but he did understand the main message:

that he was going to disappear for good and finally this triggered his

fighting instincts. But of course it was much too late for that. Richard

reacted promptly and without mercy, viciously squeezing the balls of his

"lover" until Paul lay curled up on the cold marble floor of the

apartment's hall, vomiting in pain through the tube inserted into his

stomach, a feeling which registered as very strange even in Paul's

pain-clouded mind. After that there was no resistance. Richard dragged

Paul by his collar across the floor and stopped in front of a completely

featureless section of the wall. The section was about four feet wide

and unbroken from the floor and up to a decorative ledge some 7 feet up.

Paul was unable to see what Richard did, but suddenly that whole section

of wall swung outwards and revealed a closet-like space Paul had never

known existed. Inside the small room was what looked like a futuristic

coffin standing on its end. Paul had been very scared before, but now

his mind went blank with abject terror. It didn't take much effort to

figure out who would the coffin was intended for and the second this

realization hit home Paul voided his bowels with fear, his head shaking

desperately as his heels made desperate drumming movements on the floor

while he was utterly unable to anything to save himself.

Richard didn't seem to mind Paul's messes at all, but simply smiled at

his prey, tied his prey's legs together and told it to lie still; the

last sentence delivered with an evil little smile. Then he patiently,

and very, very thoroughly cleaned up first Paul's pool of vomit, then

his feces and finally Paul himself. He then yanked Paul to his feet and

explained him what was going to happen. Paul stood a bit unsteadily with

his legs now tied together and listened to Richard with a growing sense

of disbelief. The explanation only took about five minutes and his

installation in the coffin only about half an hour after which he had

the time to review everything Richard had said and done and conclude

that his doom was even more assured that he had previously thought.

Richard's plan seemed bulletproof; outrageously well thought out and

meticulously well executed. If only Richard stuck to that plan Paul

could see no chance of escaping and somehow he thought hoping for

slip-ups from Richard was a real loosing game.

Paul was secured in a standing position. A carefully crafted pipe was

inserted into his ass, acting not only as a waste collection point, but

also as a way of keeping Paul in a standing position. Paul was shocked

when Richard told him that over the last several months he had actually

been sedated several times after they had enjoyed regular sex, so that

Richard could examine his lover's ass and insure that the fit of the

tube would be perfect. Paul had felt no extraordinary soreness in the

ass afterwards because the examinations had been carried out right after

having had anal sex. During these periods of sedation Richard had mapped

Paul's entire body in excruciating detail, including his metabolism, so

that the design of Paul's prison was now perfect. Of course Paul had

already been fitted with a catheter and tubes for feeding and breathing

and these had now simply been connected to the fittings in the coffin.

To make these fits perfect Paul had been marched into the coffin so that

he now faced the bottom, the lid closed on his back. Once inside and all

tubes had been connected, Richard had strapped Paul down for safety.

Only this was not done with narrow straps which could cut off blood

supply. Instead it was done using foot wide strips of elastic garment so

that Paul was now restricted perfectly inside a coffin already shaped to

his contours. Earpieces were placed in Paul's ears and sealed inside

using a silicone based glue, thus eliminating all sound except that

which came from the earpieces. The lid of the coffin was then shut

behind him and this too was shaped to perfectly match his body,

compressing him ever so slightly.

Paul found that the only things he could move - the only things! - were

his eyelids. Everything else was compressed just so; compressed so

perfectly as to deny him all movement, yet allow him to breathe. And do

nothing else. The sensation was claustrophobic beyond Paul's wildest and

most vivid nightmares. Everything else Richard had done to him -

absolutely everything! - paled to insignificance and Paul had a

protracted panic attack standing there in the darkness. He tried

screaming, but couldn't. He tried struggling, but found it impossible.

He tried - without knowing this was what he tried - to hyperventilate,

but found that Richard had of course designed a gas management system to

suppress such attacks. And so on. There was no escape and standing there

in the complete and total darkness Paul began to wonder if he was dead.

He was still wondering if this was what being dead felt like when

suddenly something flooded his field of vision with light, blinding him.

After a few minutes his eyes had adjusted enough for him to see what it

was. With growing wonder he realized that he was seeing a split screen

image, or rather six images of the apartment. The angles suggested that

the cameras were placed near the ceiling, giving almost bird's eyes

views of the rooms. The images showed the kitchen, the living room, the

bedroom, the office and the bathroom. The last image showed Richard

standing in the hall, right beside the section of wall Paul was hidden

behind.

Richard looked straight at the camera and spoke and to Paul's immense

surprise his voice was crystal clear in his ears. "I can see that you

are now past your hysterics, which is good." How did Richard know? Paul

was again surprised and became more so as Richard continued: "I monitor

everything about you Paul", he said and held up his Smartphone, "I know

everything about you except for what is in your head and even that isn't

too hard to guess. You are a bitch I know so very well after all". Paul

balked at this, but there was no one to hear his objection and beside he

couldn't even utter it. Nonetheless Richard chuckled at just this and

commented on it before continuing. He told Paul how the coffin was

airtight so that no smell escaped it and how the whole compartment the

coffin was stored in, was not only secret and not on any drawings

anywhere, but also had a slightly lower pressure than the apartment so

that airflow - if any - would always be from the apartment to the

compartment and not the other way around. Paul's air, food and water

supply and waste handling lines were also connected outside any view or

control from the building. To prove his point Richard pressed a button

on his Smartphone and Paul felt his belly distend as either food or

water was pumped into it. As the pipe bypassed his mouth altogether he

had no way of knowing which it was.

As Richard explained about the system and told Paul that he would have

to stay inside the coffin until well past the point where he had been

declared dead, Paul had another panic attack. He knew now for sure that

he no one would find him unless Richard told them and that he would have

to stay inside the upright tomb he was in for several months.

Paul was entirely correct in this assumption. Forced to watch "all

Richard, all the time" as his captor jokingly called it, Paul saw and

heard it all through the perfect and perfectly hidden surveillance

system. He watched as the police came and questioned Richard, who seemed

genuinely worried. He saw Richard spend countless hours with Paul's

family (Richard had none of his own left) as they waited for word of

Paul's whereabouts. He saw Richard comfort Paul's mother and Richard in

turn being comforted by Paul's own brother. It was very clear that no

one, no one at all, thought that Richard was the bad guy. Not Paul's

mother, not his brother, not his colleagues and not the police. All

thought Richard the perfect man whose lover had been snatched away

somehow whether by accident or otherwise was unclear. Paul wanted to

scream in rage and frustration but was of course utterly incapable.

Then, after about a month, the police came by to tell Richard that they

had found evidence suggesting that Paul had fallen into the river and

had been swept away. This of course meant, the very sympathetic police

offer told a seemingly grief-stricken Richard, that finding Paul alive

was now highly unlikely and that finding him at all was equally unlikely

as the river wound up in the sea after only a few miles. There was no

mention of even the possibility of foul play. What was even worse for

Paul was a remark exchanged between the two police officers while

Richard was in another room on some related errand. It was quite clear

that this was not some cover story the police told Richard while

investigating him or others. Both clearly felt bad for him - even if "he

was a damned faggot" as they said. Three weeks later they came by to

tell Richard that they had found very suggestive evidence that Paul had

indeed drowned and had been swept out to sea and that they were closing

the investigation. They then offered their sincerest condolences to the

seemingly grieving man and left. Two weeks later a funeral was held and

Paul again cried with rage and frustration as Richard and Paul's family

comforted each other and said goodbye to the now permanently gone Paul.

Paul had now been utterly immobile for two months and as a result his

muscles had begun to shrink. His feet were beyond repair he knew, the

pain coming from the constant and now compressed into the shape of the

high heels and he knew that any walking he might do when he was

eventually released would have to be in heels. Richard too had made this

clear to him when he talked to the Paul over the surveillance system in

private moments. But given his disappearing muscles Paul had thought

that he would gain some limited freedom of movement. That, however, was

not the case. Richard again scared Paul with his meticulousness. It

turned out the coffin was made not only to accommodate him exactly at

the time he was placed in it; it was also designed so that parts of it

could expand and so still hold him utterly immobile. Not only that, it

was also made to mould certain aspects of his physique to Richard's

tastes. This meant that Paul could feel how his waist was compressed

much more than the rest of his torso, which was explained the night

Richard told him that in the future Paul would wear corsets all the

time.

Time passed in a strangely disjointed and unreal manner inside Paul's

coffin. When Richard was away from the apartment or slept in the

darkened bedroom where Paul couldn't see him and nothing happened on the

screen, Paul had trouble telling whether he was awake or asleep. The

screen now followed him in his dreams and he had real trouble

distinguishing the two. Only when Richard was in the image and only when

he talked to him was Paul relatively sure that he was in fact awake.

Richard became his only hold on reality and Paul longed for him when he

wasn't there. Slowly he began feeling real pleasure in seeing his evil

captor, loving the sight of him.

Richard had begun addressing him differently too. The first few weeks

Richard had taunted Paul every time he addressed him. Then he began

instructing Paul in how things were and how he expected Paul to behave

when he was let out of the box; what Richard wanted from his slave. At

first Paul had wanted to scream in defiance at this, but gradually the

joy of seeing Richard, the evil bastard that was Paul's only connection

to reality - began to take over and eagerness to please began to blend

in, take over. Paul realized, at least for the first few weeks, what

Richard was doing and tried resisting, but the onslaught unstoppable and

very cleverly thought out. After nearly three months Paul had again

fallen for his old lover, albeit this time in a much more sinister

fashion.

When a little over three months had passed Richard moved out of the

apartment. Paul saw how he met with his family and made his goodbyes and

this time he balked only a little when Richard told them that the loss

of Paul had been a blow and that staying in the apartment was simply too

much. Paul almost regained himself when his family said fond farewells

to Richard, but still he was glad that his evil captor was there for him

in the image in front of his eyes.

Moving Paul was exceedingly simple. The coffin fit perfectly inside a

huge old bureau made of hardwood that Richard had had always. Richard

had simply removed all of the insides of the bureau and now fitted the

coffin inside together with a breathing, feeding and waste handling

unit. Paul had no real sense of what was going on and the movers simply

though the bureau was an extremely heavy old affair and cursed as they

lifted it.

Finally, after three and a half months the coffin was opened and Paul

pulled out and lay limp on the floor as Richard pulled out all the tubes

from his openings. They were in a very large windowless room with a

concrete floor and bright lights. Everything was strange to Paul: the

feeling of air touching his skin, the ability to breathe for himself,

the lack of intruders in his orifices. All felt strange and somehow

wrong to the damaged slave. However, Richard was there and that felt

good in a strangely hateful manner. Paul loved and hated his captor;

still aware of the terrible things done to him yet extremely grateful

for the tiny, perverted version of human contact he offered.

Richard smiled warmly down at his slave and said: "You are mine for good

now, you useless cunt". Then he zipped up his pants, grabbed Paul's long

hair and pulled him into a semi-upright position (Paul's knees had

trouble bending properly after so long standing up) and inserted his

member into Paul's open mouth; open and unable to close yet after

spending so many months forced open. The face fuck was long and was for

Paul again that strange mixture of wonderful and hateful. He hated

Richard, he loved Richard. He hated having his intruding cock violating

his mouth, but he moaned with pleasure, both submissive and from simple

human contact, as he swallowed every drop of dominating nectar his

Master deposited there.

Epilogue: The real extent of Mr. Wrong's evil

The pet had no idea how long he had been with Master now. He still knew

that he had once been called Paul and that Master had been Richard, but

he had trouble, real trouble, believing that they had been lovers,

equals, once. He had even greater trouble imagining himself as free,

even though he knew he once been so, but perhaps that was because the

concept of "freedom" had become meaningless to him. Even his former name

was fading as he now always thought of himself as "pet" and always -

always! - thought of Master as just that: MASTER!

The pet stood at attention right beside Master as Master sat at his

desk, writing a prescription to one of his friends. They were in a

windowless room that Master used as his perverted medical practice; the

place where he treated the slaves of other dominants; adjusting their

looks, adding or subtracting things to and from their anatomy: Removing

teeth, arms, testicles or whatever the dominant desired or adding giant

tits, enlarging lips or tongues or making even more outlandish

modifications.

Master still worked in his very successful official plastic surgery

clinic, but he now also had a large clientele of perverted individuals

for whom he performed his services both for profit and for fun.

The pet wasn't too modified, but had been "adjusted" as Master usually

referred to his work. The pet's feet had been modified to be able wear

only a specific type and brand of ten inch ballet heels, his toenails

removed and all the bones broken and reset for the perfect fit. The pet

now stood perfectly still in his black ankle high ballet boots, his feet

pressed tightly together. The pet had also had three ribs on either side

of his chest removed to better accommodate his outrageously tight, black

corset which compressed his midriff from hips to heart to a pipe stem

the pet would have thought impossible before his enslavement. A broad

collar in matching black encircled his neck, but was seldom used for

other than show. The pet never offered the slightest resistance or

hesitated even the slightest no matter how outrageous the command.

Never, ever.

The pet, though not feminized beyond the use of heels and a hairless

body, now had long black hair. However, the haircut Master had chosen

for the pet was somewhat out of the ordinary. Apart from his eyebrows

the pet had no hair at all beneath the level of the top of his forehead.

Everything beneath was smooth skin. But the hair on the very top of his

head was now so long that it reached all the way down to the back of his

knees when he stood up straight - as he always did. And had his hair

been allowed to flow more freely it would have reached even further,

because Master had decreed that the pet have a pony tail of sorts; a

pony tail starting at the very center of the top of his head and rising

some eight inches straight up, held together and held upright by a

special, black constricting tube. The pet's long, long completely black

hair was in perfect contrast to his pale, white skin and matched his

black boots, corset and collar.

The only real color the pet displayed was his large inviting lips (not

painted or tattooed, just naturally red) of his cock sucking mouth. These

had been enlarged as had his tongue, now more than just taking up the

space previously occupied by his teeth. Master liked sliding his tool in

between big, pussy-like lips and then being serviced by a giant tongue

in a smooth mouth and the pet fearfully and eagerly supplied this

service at the slightest hint.

Finally the pet's cock was held inside a terrible, hateful and utterly

awful chastity device, something which still made him cry whenever his

poor frustrated member tried to get hard. He cried not from the pain,

but from the fact that he hadn't cum even once since Master had caught

him. Not a single time. And he was horny all the time, even when Master

did horrible things to him, even when he hated Master most, he lusted

for him; lusted for that orgasm which would never be granted.

The chastity device itself was a hateful piece of art. Secured to the

lower rim of his corset with a thick leather strap, it held a narrow

plate of highly polished stainless steel starting about an inch above

his cock. The metal plate curved downwards to follow the line of his

body, ending about two inches behind his cock. His cock was held inside

a tiny metal tube in the metal plate so that it curved down and back,

creating the illusion of a smooth steel crotch. This illusion was broken

by the pet's balls, which were pressed out to either side of the narrow

steel plate, not only exposed for punishment, but also positioned so

that they were pressed uncomfortably with each step the pet took. The

tube which held his cock only had one other opening besides the one his

cock entered into and that was a tiny hole for him to pee out through.

The whole arrangement was completed by two black, elastic straps going

down through the crotch area and up either side of his asshole - thus

providing no obstructions when he was fucked - ending again at the lower

rim of the corset, this time on his back. The whole things came off once

a month for cleaning, but this took perhaps ten minutes and never

involved the slightest bit of pleasure and his inevitable erection was

always punished by severe beatings.

The pet had no idea how long he had been down in what he believed to be

Master's basement, or perhaps even sub-basement, but it had to be years

now. Many years. But again there was no way of knowing at all. No

variations in temperature, clothing, routine or anything else. There

wasn't even a way of distinguishing regular weekdays from weekends. The

routines were the exact same every day and the only variation were in

what Master's preferred method of sex or torture (it all came to much

the same) was right at that moment or in whom among his many slaves was

the current favorite, but these variations offered no clue as to the

passing of time. The pet's only way of telling anything about the

passing of time lay in the sleep periods he had, but these too could be

manipulated exceedingly easily. The lights were always on and always set

to the same level and there were no coordinated routines as to who slept

when. A slave was ordered to sleep or rest in whatever position Master

wished and whenever he wished it. Even Master's look remained uncannily

unchanged, as if torturing his slaves somehow kept him young. It was all

amounted to the fact that the pet had no way of knowing whether he had

been a slave for one year or ten or even fifteen years. The pet thought

perhaps a little more than ten years, but truly he didn't know.

Master finished talking to the other dominant, said his goodbyes and

followed her and her newly adjusted slave out. The dominant was a

petite, black woman in her late fifties and in perfect shape. The pet

thought that perhaps she would stand no more than five feet flatfooted,

perhaps even less. She was dressed sharply, in a conservative but

immaculate grey business suit and walked in stylishly conservative, but

obviously expensive, five inch heels. Her hair was immaculately coiffed

and she looked like a very dignified and stylish business woman at the

expensive end of the boardroom register.

Her slave couldn't have been more of a contrast. The pet had seen him

when he was brought in, brutally bound and gagged, screaming with fear

and impotent rage, and he had been a full seven feet tall perhaps even

slightly more. He was a white body-builder type with truly enormous

muscles everywhere. Only now he didn't seem powerful at all, only

fantastically subjugated. His entire body was now utterly devoid of hair

of course. He longer stood upright, but instead walked on all fours, but

not on his knees. Both his hands and feet had had their nails removed

and had been crushed to fit inside very small, black ballet boots with

nine inch heels. The effect was that he now minced around on all fours

with his ass high up in the air. But the modifications went even

further. The slave was deaf and blind and had even had his outer ears

removed before his head had been sealed permanently inside a tight

fitting black rubber hood, open at the nostrils and mouth. His mouth was

ungagged and from it hung a huge tongue, swinging useless from side to

side as he moved. His vocal chords had been removed so even his

screaming had been reduced to semi-loud moaning. His truly enormous cock

was free and seemingly permanently hard and horny and in the section of

flesh between the scrotum and asshole a thick, black electrical cord

entered his body through very solid looking mechanical fixtures embedded

in his flesh. The electrical cord was about three feet long and ended in

a remote control of sorts.

The mistress held the remote control and walking behind him she

controlled his every movement using a few buttons and a thumb operated

joystick. The pet had seen her test its functions, including the one

which made the slave's whole body spasm in pain and the one that made it

shoot its considerable load instantly, making the slave spasm just as

uncontrollably as the pain button had. Perhaps they were coupled the pet

thought.

When the mistress and her horribly disfigured slave had left, Master

motioned the pet for a blowjob. The pet instantly dropped to his knees

in front of Master and extracted his cock using only his toothless

mouth. As Master's cock entered his mouth, the other slave's plight

fresh in mind, the pet thought that perhaps he had been lucky after all;

a thought which lasted right up until his own frustrated cock once again

tried in vain to escape its brutal prison. But then again, he deserved

it. He had, after all, helped create the monster owning him.

THE END

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