Face In The Mirror
Day Three-Continued-part 1-
The Party
I worked like an obedient puppy-dog pussyboy to get myself in perfect order for my master. He gave me forty minutes to clean myself off head to toe inside and out. Man I could have used a demolition team. I was covered in sweat and cum and spit and boygoop and pussylube AND I WAS IN LOVE!!!! So I labored for my master, to be his boy, to be perfect for him, as perfect as a worthless, useless, stupid boy can be. I scrubbed and washed and shaved and polished and filled and drained myself. I cut my nails and trimmed my boypits. I denuded my pussyhole and took an extra few minutes to make absolutely sure it was ready for my master's use. I opened and closed my cunthole; I flexed and released the muscles; all the while I thought of my master...so I kept spooging all over the place. I had to re-shower twice. I could hear my master's voice in my head saying, "Control boy. I expect control!" So I did my very best to rein in my feelings, and not be so damn hot for my man, my master...but I longed for his cock. I ached to be reamed by his huge perfect manprick and to taste his cum and his sweat and his piss...and bang, I was moaning and dripping boysauce again. As I labored to get myself in perfect order I had to continually towel off my chest and face to remove the constant flow of spit. After ten or fifteen minutes I got better at swallowing all the excess slaver, and breathing through my nose so that I could keep my mouth closed and the slobber in. The ongoing problem with my boycock forced me to despoogify myself every couple minutes. Just when I thought I'd made some headway I'd feel precum dripping off my boynuts, or leaking down my legs, and it was time to start over.
Forty minutes passed in a moment. Thankfully I was waiting, prepared, in pussyboy position, when my master opened the door to get me. He'd left me an outfit similar to the one I wore yesterday to Dr. John's. There was the green and blue kilt slit up the back for access to my boypussy, wool socks, and loafers, but instead of the dark silk vest, my master had left me an odd navy blue t-shirt. There wasn't much to it; a couple thin straps went over my shoulders and hung down my chest; part of each strap was obscured behind the rings hanging from my enormous nipples. I tried the straps on top of the rings and then under them...both ways...hideous!! It was garish the way the shirt accentuated my latest deformity. Below my pecs was about three inches of material that didn't even cover my belly button. I felt on display and very embarrassed. I wanted to cover myself.
The door opened and I swear my master's presence before me felt like the warm sun shinning down on me. I swaddled myself in his radiance. He looked at me, smiled and said, "You've got the shirt on backwards. It's a yolk boy, turn it around...there now that's better. Get on your feet and let's get a move on. You're going to be the belle of the ball."
I didn't know what he was talking about, but I sure hoped he was taking me somewhere I could show him what I was feeling. I longed for him. I hungered for his cock, his cum, and that body...I had to fill my mind with other thoughts or I'd have come for sure. So I thought about the spike through my tongue and the barrel hoops through my boynips and poofff the urgency of my need backed off a notch.
My master ordered me up, took me by the back of my neck, and pushed me along
When Control, actually Control One, walked into the medium sized activity room all eyes turned in his direction. The man was indeed striking. His every feature had been artfully crafted. He had a square jaw, lightly bronzed skin, dark curly brown hair, which nicely set off by his dark-brown, almost black goatee. For a man in his forties he didn't look a day over thirty. He was tall and even though he wore a business suit it was obvious that he was in prime condition. It was well known throughout the Organization that he drove himself in the gym every bit as much as he did his boys. Through constant hard work he maintained the same body he had at twenty-five. Every man and boy in the room was fascinated by this strength and power. C, as his fellow masters (all subordinate to him) called him had the love and respect of everyone who worked under him. If he wanted, he could have any man in the room, in the building, in his unit, in the Organization...actually any man he wanted. His appeal wasn't limited to men; C was just as competent with and attractive to women. His physical presence generated heat, lots and lost of hot, lustful desire. Add to that his stunning intellect and you begin to understand how a man this young could indeed command all the Organization's North and South American units. His only superior was Pax and word had it that at Pax's retirement C would move up and head the entire association. That would make him far more powerful than any president or king or prime minister in the world.
This particular activity room, though not the largest in this building, was quite impressive. It occupied half of the 25th floor and was bordered on two sides by glass walls that provided an unobstructed view of the mountains in the distance. The room itself was informally divided into various areas designed for all kinds of procedures and events. One sitting area looked something like a ski-lodge with an enormous fireplace central to a number of couches and overstuffed chairs; that corner looked warm and very romantic. Another section was designed for bondage and discipline; there were slings and stocks and restraint tables and rotating pedestals and crosses and a wall full of whips and dildoes and the most up-to-date sophisticated electronic equipment available (developed and manufactured by one of the Organization's subsidiaries). A third area looked like a cross between a doctor's examination room and an operating room; it had examination tables and drug cabinets and IV poles and cardiac monitors and several huge adjustable surgical lights hanging from the ceiling. Finally, there was a fully stocked bar replete with an extremely handsome bartender, naked except for his black bow tie. Next to the bar were five or six tables as well as an enormous plasma screen TV. The entire room was covered by audio and video surveillance; in addition there were several video cameras and other taping equipment in several spots around the room.
C went to the bar for a drink and started to laugh. One of the masters, Joel was playing a game he'd recently invented. Joel called it Martini Maker Pussyboy. Can you guess his little gambol? Yup, he'd have his boy do a handstand, insert a funnel into his boycunt and fill him with a fifth of Vermouth; then he'd wait a minute or two and have his boy expel the fortified wine. Next, he'd have the kid shove ten ice cubes up his cumhole, and then back up on his hands so that he could funnel in a quart of gin. Once the gin was in Joel would have his pussyslave right himself and do a few gyrations (carefully so as not to bruise the gin) And Voila!! The martinis were ready to be served. The cuntboy would gingerly crawl to any master wanting a perfect, ice cold martini; he'd gracefully sit back on his haunches, bearing his weight on the balls of his feet, using all the control he'd learned over months of exhaustive training and he would ever so carefully dribble out the cocktail into the master's martini glass. The icing on the cake was that Joel would then have the boy crawl over to a saucer of olives and cocktail onions; and use that same training to pick up a single olive (or onion) with his bubble butt, crawl back and deliver it to the thirsty master. The game was hilarious. Watching Joel's boy struggle and strain to pick up an olive with his butt cheeks was priceless. Naturally as the minutes passed the vermouth and gin would permeate the boy's intestines and he would get drunker and drunker. By the time he'd delivered the third or fourth martini, the pussyboy would be falling down drunk, soaked with sweat, and struggling to obey. Then Joel and the other masters would have the cuntboy do any number of tasks, walk a straight line, recite the alphabet backwards, stand on one foot while they played with his nipples, tussled his hair, fucked his cumbox with a vibrating dildoe, and harangued him with rapid fire questions and further instructions. It was obviously designed to put him into a frenzied, mindless state. For the better part of an hour they'd keep him going, all flushed and flustered. After that the boy was putty in Joel's hands to do with as he pleased, with not a hint, not a molecule of resistance...In addition several of the activities were designed to put the kid in a state of super arousal, one big sexual nerve end, ready to explode. Invariably his boycock was painfully hard, bouncing all over, and spooging like a leaky pipe. That's the way Joel liked them.
As Joel's martini boy was entertaining the multitude (about ten masters and nine boycunts) C was lazing on the couch in front of a roaring fire while his boy, Cunningham, tended to his cock and balls. The kid had a magic tongue and used it eagerly. Now there was a ball fastened to the boy's proboscis; that made it a totally new and even better "ballgame," so the pussyboy rubbed that little silver marble all over his master's sensitive phallus... and the kid had technique. First he'd lap at his master's balls with many short strokes and only half his tongue, then he'd stick his licker all the way out and make long slow swipes from C's butthole up his perineum to his sac where he'd gently suck and tongue each ball, then onto the shaft and up past the glans where he first nibble on C's flange and then french his pisshole. The boy would alternate between sloppy wet licks and more textured dry grazes. The young man was talented and C appreciated the devotion his boy demonstrated with his every move; plus as the cuntboy licked and sucked and kissed he'd stare up into his master's face with the most adoring, puppydog eyes watching for every tiny cue his master might give him. You could tell he was praying to be perfect, to be exactly what his master wanted him to be.
It had been a hectic week, hell a hectic month, for C; there were several new arrivals, candidates to evaluate, progress reports to read, and a gigantic organization to oversee. Sure each unit was fairly autonomous, but there were national and international issues to contend with and manage. So C was looking forward to putting his candidate through his paces in a rather standard way; a suck, a few fucks, and a good night's sleep with Cunningham's lips wrapped around his cock.
Just as C was preparing to toss his boy on the couch and throw a solid fuck into him one of the junior controllers, Jeff, twenty-seven, striking black hair and dark eyes, 5'10", very tightly built, came over, knelt next to pussyboy Cunningham, gave C's dick a few perfunctory kisses and said, "I am sorry to bother you sir, but there seems to be a problem."
C sighed deeply, "What is it?"
"Sir, Master Roberto is calling from Los Angeles. He says there's umm a reporter with a rather damaging photo of Master Roberto and his ahh pussyboy, the Spanish singer; his name is..."
C interrupted, "Call him Rick and leave it at that."
The junior controller continued, "The reporter has a picture of Master Roberto and the Latin singer, aahh Rick in a compromising position...aahhhh umm errr."
C said, "Spit it out Jeff. What's in the picture?"
"Well sir, Master Roberto is fully dressed; that's good... but umm the singer...well he's aahhhh naked sir. The picture was ummm taken during an ummm intermission in one of the singer's umm concerts."
C asked, "Where was this picture taken...where were Roberto and the boy?"
"Uhhmm they were ah um in the loading dock of the LA Civic Center, sir..." the junior controller kept hesitating.
C was becoming exasperated, "You mean Roberto had this kid naked in a public place where he had to know he could...no, where he knew he would probably get caught. Fucking asshole, foolhardy stupid moronic jerk. I'm going to have his balls for this. Do you hear me Jeff? I'm going to geld that motherfucking idiot savant jackass shithead... Is that it Jeff? The singer was naked, Roberto was clothed... wait. What the fuck were they doing? Were they just talking? Tell me they were just talking. I can fix that with one phone call. Tell me they were just talking."
The junior controller said, "Jesus, sir I am sorry, but ahh ummm the singer was umm kind of blowing Master Roberto..."
"What the fuck does that mean? Was the kid sucking Roberto's cock? Stop dicking around boy!!! TELL ME EVERYTHING AND TELL ME NOW. Now you are pissing me off. If I have to ask you another question...if you keep dragging this out I'll have you sucking pussyboy cock and ass for the rest of the night!!"
"Yessir, C, sir, master, sir. The singer was on Roberto's cock, but the boy was wearing a parachute harness on his balls and Master Roberto had the tip of his shoe in the harness and as the boy was sucking Master Roberto's cock, Roberto was applying his weight to the kid's balls. Roberto said the kid was alternately howling and sucking and howling and sucking and so on. Master Roberto says the boysinger absolutely loves this particular...aahh um ahh act...activity. Roberto says the kid begs for it. He made me promise to tell you that the boy was all keyed up from some problem with the sound system. Roberto said the pussyboy was miserable and worried and crying and that he begged Roberto to take him onto the loading dock and do ah um ah...what they were doing."
C just shook his head, "Great! That's just great. How are we going to explain that? What kind of press release do we put out? Famous Hispanic singer trips and falls out of his clothes and onto the hard cock of a passerby. Do you think that will work?"
The junior controller said, "Maybe sir...maybe if you say it...I would believe you sir."
C shot back, "Stop kissing my ass you cuntheaded dope. That was a rhetorical question. Who is this reporter and what paper does he work for?
Jeff sputtered back, "His name is Ken Fitzsimmons...er umm or Fitzpatrick..."
C said, "Ya know son, you are a lousy communicator. You need some work. You can't seem to deliver a fucking message without a translator. Now tell me was the reporter's name Fitzsimmons or Fitzpatrick and imagine that your ass depends on your accuracy."
The young controller said, "It's Fitzpatrick sir, I'm sure it's Ken Fitzpatrick, sir."
C pushed Cunningham off his cock, "Well, I'm going to have to go and try to fix this...What to do first...What to do..." His eyes brightened for a second and he said, "First thing, let's take care of you two boys," and he called over Master Joel, Master Simon, Master Jake, and Master Tony.
C gave them instructions, "Gentlemen, we have a brushfire in California that I need to attend to. I've got to go and take care of the preliminary arrangements. I have phone calls to make and I'm going to order up the jet for a later flight. Meanwhile these two need attention. This junior controller has a communication problem that needs to be worked on. In that regard I'd like Simon, Jake, and Tony to direct him in a little movie he's going to make. I think we'll call it: Jeffery Learns to Communicate; subtitled: Jeff Describes His Gangbang. And Jeff, that's going to be your assignment. As these masters direct, I want you to describe play by play, word by word as some of the pussyboys devour you like a Thanksgiving turkey and fuck your brains out. Now Jeff I not only want you to describe in detail everything as it's being done to you. I want to know your every thought. I want to know what's going on in that silly head of yours...and Jeff these cuntboys are going to play with your body until their masters are satisfied with your description. If it's foggy or unclear, well then you'll just have to start all over. Now Jeff is that clear? Do you understand? Because Jeff, I want you to explain it to me, NOW!! I want you to tell me about the movie you're about to star in. Go ahead, fella...tell me about your role. DO IT NOW!!"
By this time most of the masters in the room had joined the group around C. Everyone was curious about what was happening. Meanwhile Jeff was beginning to sweat. At first he tried to look C in the eye as he spoke, but the words wouldn't come, so he stared at the floor as he spoke, "I...I...I need to learn how to talk...how to communicate more effectively. I...I...need to be more clear when I deliver a message." And he began to tear up. His total humiliation was being witnessed by a room full of masters and their boys. Poor Jeff had just two weeks ago "graduated" from the ranks of lowly cuntboys. He was so proud of having moved on to the next level of his education and training. He thought it was all wine and roses from then on, until tonight.
C bellowed, "GO ON! I am losing patience with you Jeff!" The way he said the boy's name cut through Jeff like a knife.
Jeff began to shake and the tears began to flow, "I'm going to star in a movie... aahh um ahh... I'm going to get fucked by lots of pussyboys. I'm going to get fucked and they're going to play with me and ...sob...sob...sob...I have to...describe...sob...as I get... fucked... sob... sob...sob... And... and... and they're going to keep playing with my body until I can...sob...sob... give a good enough description of what's happening to me...sob... sob...sob... sob...sob... sob.."
C interjected, "AND..."
"And...sob... sob...and...and I have to tell how it is making me feel... sob... sob... sob... and I have to talk about what I'm thinking as I'm getting fucked...and... sob...sob.. other stuff... sob...sob.. sob... and... and... and they're going to keep doing things to me... sob... sob... until I can get it right... Until I can learn to communicate...sob...sob." And with that Jeff collapsed into a heap on the floor. Under Jake's direction a couple of the pussyslaves helped lift the junior controller up and lead him over to one of the restraint tables, where they unceremoniously began to strip him of his very nice new suit.
C called to Jake, "I don't want him restrained in any way. He should be only too happy to assist in the making of this little instructional video. I intend to use it for training purposes, so make sure it's done properly."
Then C turned to Joel, "Look, I've got to go and get things moving. I'm going to turn my boy over to your control. Maybe he can clean out your martini shaker. I'm sure he'd love that. I'll leave the rest up to you. The boy has all these new attachments on his tits and his tongue so you should have no end of creative activities you can put him through...But Joel, a word of caution... I do not want to return and find Cunningham's balls all tied up with your work boots hanging from them, filled with marbles or sand or whatever. I do not want the boy damaged. No double fisting, no tying bungee cords through his tongue piercing, or hooking cords through his tongue to his nipples around his balls and up his ass. Joel, I know how creative you can be, but I do not want the boy damaged. I've had enough of people taking risks and being stupid on my watch. Am I clear?"
Joel, with a devilish smile on his face said, "C, I'm hurt that you'd think such a thing. I will not harm your cuntbox boy. I will treat him like fine china...How's that? ...Like he's made out of glass."
And with that C turned on his heel and left the room. Joel, now the senior controller in the room, called out, "OK boys, someone go to my locker and get my golf shoes...the new ones with the heavy cleats...They should be right next to my work boots, and bring an extra pair of laces."
While he waited master Joel took James by the scruff of his neck and led him over to one of the areas with a central pedestal. He put the boy up on the platform and began to inspect him.
Joel said, "You are a pretty little girl aren't you?"
James answered, "Beg your pardon mathter, thir?"
Joel chuckled at the boy's lisp, "You heard me cumbreath; I said you are a pretty girl... and you are. You are a sweet, cute, sexy girl... now aren't you?"
James was at a loss. He glowed bright red. "Thir, mathter, thir I am your puthythlave. I am a cuntboy thir. I am yourths to command thir. Your withh ith my command. Pleathe mathter, let me pleathe you. Pleathe mathter, fuck me. Pleathe fuck me thir."
"DO NOT BE EVASIVE WITH ME HONEYGIRL. I intend to fuck you because I love pretty girls... And you are a pretty girl. Do you understand what I am saying? Girl."
James was really getting flustered. He had no idea how to answer. He said, "Pleathe fuck me mathter... Mathter may I pleathe thuck your cock? or I could mathage you mathter thir... or give you a tongue bath... or thuck your balls... or lick your ath...Anythhing you like mathter... Pleathe just name it... Pleathe fuck me mathter."
Joel's eyes tightened and his jaw hardened. "You are a pretty little girl!! Now you say it!!"
James began to cry, "Thir...Mathter... I... am... thir... I am a pretty girl... thir."
Joel shot back, "Not good enough! Not at all good enough." He reached out and toyed with James' right nipple ring. He jiggled it with his fingers and said, "What's this."
"Thir, Mathter...that's my boytit, thir."
"You see... you see... That is my point. This is not your boytit or your mantit or anything like that. This is the nipple ring that's on your breast. You have wonderful, beautiful breasts for a pretty young girl, LIKE YOU ARE. Then Joel reached over and tore off James' kilt. He grabbed the boy's very, very hard cock and said, "Now what is this?"
James could sense that this man, his immediate master, was getting angry. If he continued to piss him off anything could happen. The kinds of humiliation possible flooded James' mind as he struggled to find the right answer. Finally, he said, "It's my... my... I don't know thir. I don't know what it ith. Is it my cunt, thir?"
"Sweetie, cookie, don't you know anything about your own female anatomy? How could this thing be your cunt? Your cunt is a hole. Is this a hole? Is it?"
James lowered his eyes to the floor as the tears began to flow, "No thir, tshat's not a hole thir. I tsshought tshat was my boyprick thir... but tshat's not right thir...ith it?"
Joel answered, "Nope, no way that's not a prick or a pecker or a dick because boys have dicks and you, my dear, are a very pretty girl. So you can't have a cock now can you? And if you are a girl... And you are... and you can't have a cock... then this must be your... what?"
James let out a great sigh, "Ith it my clitoris...thir?"
Joel shot back, "That's right. That's very, very good. I can see that you are pretty and smart. So then, let's move on with our little lesson. If this is your clit then what's this?" and Joel flicked the boy's ball sac.
James gave a little jump and tried his best to match anatomy, but he was at sea. He wanted to yell, "Those are my balls!!" but he could not. He didn't have the ability to contradict a master. Still this weird humiliating lesson was giving him a headache and embarrassing the hell out of him. So he said, "Mathter I am very thorry, very thorry thir, but I don't know. I am very thupid thir, very, very thupid. My mathter thays I am dumb ath a post and thir I am. Tho I don't know... Pleathe fuck me mathther."
Joel smiled, "You're a bit of a slut aren't you my dear little girl. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me. You are a girl with only one thing in her pretty little head... You want your pussy filled with cock... but not yet sweetie. As a girl you should know about your body... So I will tell you. This hanging flesh is your labia, and your labia hang over your...what? I know you can get this one." Joel roughly took his index finger and jammed it into James' ass up to the first knuckle.
James, up on his toes, with Joel's finger up his ass, said, "Tshats my cunt thir. Ithn't it? It'tsh my cunt... I think."
Joel smiled and removed his finger, shoved it into James' mouth and washed it around, "Well, you got that one right away. I knew you were a smart girl the minute I laid eyes on you. Now there's someone I want you to meet." He grabbed the boy by the back of his neck and pushed him forward. Joel directed him into another section of the room, where at the far end was a naked candidate facing a corner, like a child being punished. From behind you could see that the lad was at least 6'7" tall with shiny black hair cascading down past his shoulders... it was lustrous and quite stunning.
As they approached the "cornered" boy Joel called out, "OK Sugar Tits, your `time out' is over you can turn around. There's someone I want you to meet."
As the hulking young man turned around he was a sight to behold; totally denuded of hair below the neck he was "well-studded" to say the least. He had triple piercings in both ears, a couple barbells in each eyebrow, rings through his lips, both nipples were pierced, each with two rings through the nipple head and with a larger third ring through the areola; there were hoops hanging from the edges of both his armpits; he had rings through the webbing between his thumbs and index fingers, there were three rings in various parts of his navel; then things got ridiculous. The boy's engorged cock was easily a foot long and as large around as a beer bottle; on both the top and bottom of the shaft were two ladder piercings running its length; from it's tip hung an enormous PA with a fair sized bell attached; the weight of the bell etc caused the boy's erection to be pulled down rather painfully so that his cock stood almost straight out from his body. There were two Ampallangs, a Dolphin, a Dydoe, several scrotal rings and bells and a few more inventive piercings designed by Master Joel himself. The kid's prick bell rang as he walked and his balls jingled. This was truly a musical candidate. In actuality the young man had been a star basketball player in college, but his career had been cut short by his growing taste for heroine. It took the intervention of several friends and relatives to get him a placement with the Organization. The Unit was wary of taking him because he was barely twenty-two and was still pretty much a boy. Candidates were usually further along in their development, finished with their education, and had fairly strong personality development. This boy, Bobby, had only one major personality trait; he was a hound. He had developed young, fucked his first girl at eleven (when he was already 5'11") and from that first fuck on the boy had sex on the brain. He was driven by his need to cum and cum often. He had trouble finding girls his own age because of his drive and size; most young girls took one look at the boy's dick and ran; most women had trouble even giving him head. So Bobby had been a rather unhappy pussy hound. It was one of his girlfriends who introduced him to the world of narcotics. They calmed him down a bit. When he was shooting up his need for sex dropped to three or four orgasms a day; otherwise he wanted to fuck twenty-four/seven. So the people who cared about Bobby prevailed on anyone and everyone they knew who might be able to pull strings and /or put pressure on the Organization to choose the boy for candidacy. Ultimately they agreed to induct him. Then they had a problem; what to do with him. His only strong character trait was his never ending appetite for sex and his strong heterosexuality; he scored a zero on the Kinsey scale, which meant he was exclusively heterosexual with no homosexual interest. The only means to properly attack his psyche was to focus on that. There wasn't much else they could do; the kid was psychologically underdeveloped and far too uncomplicated with little or no real life experience. So they gave him to Joel, a controller with a similar background. Joel could have been Bobby's twin, except that Joel was much shorter and a swimmer. Other than that they had almost identical backgrounds. Joel had undergone a similar induction and training program and still had the holes to prove it.
So as Bobby tinkled his way forward Master Joel said, "Honey, I want you to meet this little girl I just met. She reminds me of you in many ways and I think the two of you could be great friends.
Bobby slowly walked toward them, his eyes focused on the floor, still quite embarrassed for having been sent into the corner by his master.
Joel smiled brightly and said, "Suzzie Q, I want you to meet Honey Pie."
Bobby looked up and smiled. He had been Suzzie Q for almost a month now. He gave a goofy toothy smile and said, "Pleathed stu meet you Honey Pie." His tongue was newly pierced also.
When James realized that he was `Honey Pie' he turned beet red, cringed, and began to sweat... and he wasn't sure why. All he knew was that he was terribly confused.
Joel continued, "Suzzie here is a bit of a slut. She wants cock up her pussy all day and all night, but don't you worry Honey Pie, because she's bi-sexual. Do you know what that means sweet heart?" and he turned to look James in the eye.
James continued to sweat. What the fuck was he supposed to say now? So he shifted his weight back and forth from one foot to the other while he tried to figure out something to say that wouldn't get him in trouble. Finally he said, "Thee likes boyths and girlths too?"
"And you said you were dumb as a post. Honey Pie you are a very smart little princess. Now how would you like to play with Suzzie Q? Don't you think that would be fun?"
James thought and thought, he turned to Joel and said, "Pleathe fuck me mathter." What the hell, it was worth a try.
Joel grew stern, "Listen to me you cunt. You can ask me to fuck you all night, but it's only going to make me angry. You have this lovely young thing here with her big knockers and hot clit, and all she wants to do is get it on with you. Didn't your master teach you any manners girl? You're going to make Suzzie Q feel bad about herself. She knows that she's big and clumsy and she trips over her own feet, but she means well and she likes you Honey Pie, so BE POLITE OR WE'RE GOING TO HAVE TO HAVE A LESSON IN GOOD MANNERS!!!"
That did it for James. He had no idea what a `manners lesson' was, but he knew he didn't want one. So he said, "Mathter what tshould I do thir? I don't want Thuzzie Q to feel bad...tho what tshould I do?"
Joel was quick to respond, "Why not show her your tits and your new tittie rings. Suzzie loves to play with other girl's tits. That would be a great place to start... to break the ice."
So James, wearing only the tiny strapped t-shirt began to wiggle his chest. He felt terribly embarrassed. It felt like his nips were weighted with door knockers and they still hurt, but he didn't want any manners lessons so he shook his chest back and forth some more.
Joel said, "Oh sugar, you can do better than that. Get those hands up there and play with your titties. Then I want you to get over there to Suzzie and push your boobs right into her face. Now get it on girl."
So James began to pull on his nipples and flip the captive rings so that the balls slid around. Then he lowered the t-shirt straps off his shoulder and before he could stop it the whole shirt fluttered to the floor.
Joel interjected, "Just kick those ugly boy's shoes off, and take those homely socks off too. Why your master would let a pretty girl like you dress in such awful things... well, just take them off. You look a lot prettier naked."
So James complied and stood naked trying his best to entice this enormous pussy-boy-girl person. He was sweating profusely, completely confused, and scared that he was going to do something wrong any minute. Every chance he got he'd take a fast look at the door, praying his master would soon come back to rescue him from this insanity.
Joel said, "Let's all get more comfortable." And he escorted the boys over to the couches. They made a curious threesome as both his boys were well over a head taller than their controller. When they got to the couch Joel had Bobby sit down in the middle of a loveseat. Once he had him sitting he addressed James, "Now Honey Pie I want you to give Suzzie here a little lap dance. And don't get cute with me. I know for a fact that you know exactly what a lap dance is... so get busy... and Honey, if you do not convince me that you are really trying... well I'm going to take you to visit Dr. John tomorrow and we're going to add a few more piercings to your collection. So get to work!"
James understood every word and he was shaking. He moved close to where the giant boy was sitting and began his dance. James lowered himself to Bobby's chest and as he swiveled his hips and shook his chest; he put his arms around the boy's neck and moved his lips to within an inch of Bobby's face; then he stuck out his tongue and began to lightly trace the boy's lips, down to his smooth chin, down to his enormous Adam's apple, to his nipple rings where he nuzzled each of them gently. All the while he massaged the back of Bobby's neck with his hands. Both boys were showing the results of the activity. Bobby's bell was ringing, ding, ding, ding, ding, as his huge dick bobbed up and down; and the bells on his sac were jingling from his whole body's vibration. Meanwhile James' dick was spewing boygoo in little burps. Under normal circumstances James' training would have blocked such a strong reaction to another candidate, but his psyche was in such a confused uproar it was following the overriding direction to obey any master's order and it seemed clear that Master Joel wanted the two of them to "get it on" as he had said. So James' was feeling pretty out of control as he kept up his undulations. He lowered his head further and touched Bobby's dick-clit-whatever with the tip of his tongue and the boy gasped.
Joel said, "OK, OK, so far so good but I want to hear you girls interact with each other. Come on now talk to each other."
Now James was out of his element. What was he supposed to say? The thought of his Master shot into his head and he knew how much C would expect him to try his best. The idea of disappointing C was enough to push James into new territory. He looked Bobby in the eyes as he held and massaged the back of his head and said, "Thuzzie I think you are very pretty. I want to touch your puthy. I want to eat your puthy and thuck your clit baby. Thuzzie I want to eat you up. Oh baby. Oh Thuzzie." and James pushed himself forward and began to sit on Bobby's lap. One tiny miscalculation and that twelve inch pole would go right up James' pussy... now both boy's would have liked that... but they were afraid of what Joel might want... so James moved closer to Bobby's chest and that huge dick lodged up his crack, instead of going up his cunt. Once he was on Bobby's lap James began to gyrate his hips and nuzzle first one side of Bobby's neck and then the other. Bobby was going into orbit; he threw his head back and began to moan. His cock bell began to ding, ding, ding, ding; James was having trouble catching his breath. When Bobby's head was thrown back James took the opportunity to tongue and suck on his neck and Adam's apple and lick his chest. They wanted to fuck... they needed to fuck... they really, really wanted to fuck.
Joel said, "OK girls I guess you really want to make out...so I'm going to let you... but you need to remember that you're lesbians... and you must have lesbian sex... so you're going to need some lesbian gear."
Joel pulled out a zippered case and began to remove items. "Let's see here, we need some dildoes... I know I know the bigger the better... don't worry... and you'll want them to vibrate. OK, OK and let's see some garter belts... I know how you girls love to dress up for each other... and a couple silk Teddies...Look I've got two in pink... Is that perfect or what? Oh, Oh and last but not least some 6 inch spikes... 2 pair, patent leather, black, 14 triple EEE should be just right."
So Bobby and James had to stop their lap dance in order to put on their pink Teddies, their garter belts, and try to balance themselves on the giant patent leather spike heeled shoes. In heels Bobby was over seven feet tall and James wasn't far behind. Both of them were well built and looked ridiculous in the tiny Teddies (that strangely enough fit them--Master Joel was nothing if not totally prepared) with garter belts hanging down; their erections jutting out in front of them. James had to lean on Bobby to walk; as for the basketball star he's been wearing Teddies and high heels for several days so he could negotiate his way around the room without killing himself. Then they had to pick up their big vibrating dildoes. Once they were dressed and equipped Joel led them over to one of the couches that converted into a bed. By this time a couple of the other masters had brought their boys over to watch the show. This new audience didn't escape the boy's attention, but they were operating on sexual autopilot. The fact was they were both very turned on... embarrassed as hell... but very, very hot.
Joel lined them up in 69 position so that they could suck each others' clits and lick each others' pussies... and they didn't have to be told twice. The pair of Teddy clad pussyboys went at each other like rutting pigs. In minutes they were bathed in each others' sweat, heads buried in the other's crotch, hair matted down, hands touching and exploring everywhere. They grabbed each others' ass and crushed and pulled and kneaded their butt cheeks. Then James spent several minutes touching and tracing and tonguing the hoops and loops and ladders that covered Bobby's cock and balls... clit and labia. James could curl his tongue into a strong thick muscular probe and he used it to plow through Bobby's vagina (anal ring); then he's fuck the boy with his tongue massaging that ring of muscle with the ball going through his tongue. Bobby was moaning and mewling and generally going out of his mind. Joel walked over to him, lubed his dildoe, and pointed to James' hole. Bobby lost no time in plunging the rubber phallus, easily as large as Bobby's own, into James right up to the handle he tightly held in his fist. James gasped and his body quaked. Bobby didn't hesitate; he began to drill James's pussy for all he was worth. James cried out in pain-pleasure-pain-shock. Bobby was relentless and refused to slow down so that James could not get into the rhythm; instead he found himself at the other boy's mercy... and he had none. He impaled James on the fake prick up to the hilt and literally lifted him off the bed on top of his fist, cock up his ass. Bobby reached out to steady James' body with his other hand and he held him there, sitting jammed onto Bobby's hand while Bobby grabbed him by the head and slam-kissed him. Their faces met like two fists and melted into a sucking kiss. Then Bobby threw him back onto the bed and continued the violent fuck. Two, three, four more thrusts and James screamed as his cock-clit erupted. Jizz flew everywhere, up onto James' platinum hair; it hit his face, went up his nose and coated his soaking wet Teddy.
Now it was James' turn to return the fuck. He pushed Bobby onto his back, but not before he tore off the boy's Teddy and pulled and snapped and tore at the garter belt till it gave way and the boy was naked except for all his jewelry and the high heels. James pushed up the boy's legs, and as they passed his face he grabbed the right foot, yanked off the high heel and bit into the boy's big toe. He almost drew blood but stopped himself and instead gave the toe a good tonguing followed by a hard suck. Before Joel could lube James's dildoe the pussyboy-girl spit on Bobby's hole and rammed the dildoe in. It got past the ring and stopped; Bobby howled. James spit and his other hand and wiped it on the shaft of his own cock, once again hard and dripping boysauce, and before Joel could stop him James pulled out the dildoe and shanked Bobby with his own dick-clit. Bobby started to cry out but James fell on him and covered his mouth with his own. He forced open Bobby's lips with his tongue and began to explore the dark reaches of the boy's throat. Meanwhile he began to thrust his dick into Bobby's very stretched-out hole. Both boys were moaning in seconds. Bobby's cock exploded between them and ejaculated cocksnot all over both their chests and chins. James never missed a beat; he continued the hard fuck. When James lifted himself off Bobby's chest to be able to jackhammer the boy's cunt Bobby's bell began to ring again. Bobby made loud grunting sounds with every thrust and eight or nine beats later his cock shot once more spewing rope after rope of fresh boyseed to baptize both of them. With every spurt Bobby's bell would ding... Seeing that sent James over the edge, and he applied several coats of cockcream to the inside of Bobby's guts. They collapsed into a sweaty cummy heap on the bed.
Joel was laughing, "You girls... you get carried away... you're too emotional... it's typical. Someday you're husbands are going to have their hands full."
Lying next to each other Bobby whispered in James' ear, "I love you Honey Pie."
And James thought, "I just met her and she already loves me. I'll never understand girls... but I do love to fuck them."
Then Joel said, "And you, you disobedient girl, what am I going to do with you?" And he grabbed James by his wet hair and dragged him off the bed and onto the floor.
"You stay down there, you defiant, insubordinate shithead. How dare you rape my little Suzzie Q? I told you that you were a cute little girl... but you didn't listen... you had to be a wayward little pussyboy... you are too attached to that boycock swinging between your legs. What to do... What to do... Perhaps we need to think about removing that filthy thing that you raped my sweet little girl with... What have you got to say for yourself boy?" And he kicked James in the nuts.
James, feeling totally dejected opened his legs so that Master Joel could have easier access to his boynuts. He was hoping against hope that Master Joel would give him a beating and leave it at that, but the Master seemed way, way too angry for a simple lashing. Then he heard the words that suggested the removal of his boyfucker and he grew terrified. He said, "Pleathe thir beat me. Pleathe beat me."
Joel answered, "If you think you're going to get off with a beating you've lost your mind cuntlips. I think we need to think about removing something... your little pecker or maybe your useless boynuts."
James began to retch, "Pleathe thir, pleathe don't take my boycock. Pleathe!" and he began to kiss Joel's feet and tug at his pant leg.
Joel said, "Come with me!" He grabbed James by one of his titrings and pulled him along on his hands and knees.
James had to crawl for all he was worth. It felt like that ring was going to break through his boynip at any moment. Joel was pulling it so hard that the nipple was pulled out by at least three inches and you could see daylight through the hole.
Finally they reached one of the raised platforms and Joel pulled James to his feet by his beautiful platinum locks. He yelled, "SPREAD THOSE LEGS WIDE!"
James spread his feet as far apart as he possibly could... till the ligaments in his thighs were at their limit and screaming and he put his hands behind his head in perfect pussyboy position... and he waited... and he prayed that no one handed Master Joel a scissors or a scalpel.
Joel snapped his fingers and pointed to a gym bag resting against one of the side chairs. One of the other pussyboys at hand crawled over to it, grabbed it in his teeth and brought it over to Master Joel. Joel reached into the bag and pulled out his huge golf shoes with titanium spikes and long laces and said, "Now let's see what we have here...
Minutes later James was trying hard not to cry out. Master Joel had tied off each of the pussyboy's balls and tied it to a golf shoe. Master Joel gave the very heavy shoes a good slap and they swung back and forth between James' legs. His nuts were beginning to swell and both were a rather frightening shade of dark purple. James wanted to scream; James needed to scream. Tears welled up in his eyes and poured down his face. All the while his balls, independent of each other swayed back and forth between his legs.
James was going out of his mind when he heard Master Joel send one of the pussyboys to fetch the large bowl full of marbles. James could only wonder how many marbles it would take before the shoes got too heavy and pulled off his boynuts. He needed to do something... say something, "Pleathe, pleathe, pleathe fuck me mathter. Pleathe mathter. I am tho tho thorry for raping Thuzzie. I am tho thorry. Pleathe rape me mathter. Rape me!"
Master Joel simply said, "OK, I will." and he grabbed James by the arm and pulled him off the platform.
Joel yelled, "Bend over... hands behind your head!"
And as soon as James complied Master Joel unzipped and impaled the boy on his prick to the hilt. There was nothing kind or gentle about the way Joel power fucked the boy. With every thrust James was forced a couple steps forward, and with every push forward the golf shoes would swing wide tearing at his nuts and ballsac. James used every ounce of control to keep from screaming. Instead, with every shove he would grunt loudly and deeply. After five or six forceful pushes James had been moved maybe fifteen feet and he was going out of his mind. Joel had gotten so rough that the heavy shoes had begun to strike James in the chest with every new dick shove. James prayed that Master Joel would come. He realized that his own boycock was still very hard and rather purple itself, but he wasn't thinking too much about coming because it took all his senses not to fall or scream or pass out or beg and beg and beg and beg Master Joel to please stop.
James' rape continued for five of the longest minutes in his life. Just as he began to fight to remain conscious he felt Master Joel grab the back of his hair and pull. He felt Joel's cock began to fire in his guts and the shoes hit him once more very hard in the chest.
Master Joel reached around, grabbed James' prick, and said, "OK you may come." And James came and came and came and came... and for a moment all the pain faded away... THEN IT ALL CAME BACK AT ONCE and James screamed.
Minutes later James was looking up at Master C.
James thought maybe he had died and gone to heaven. He said, "Hello Mathter."
C was more than a little put out. He put his thumb under Joel's chin and led him over to the corner of the room, "I warned you about this. I told you. What the fuck is wrong with you?"
Joel smiled back, "He disobeyed a direct order. Besides C, I was careful. The boy is not hurt. I swear."
C responded, "You'd better hope he's OK."
C collected James and left.
NOTE: HEY OUT THERE IN READER LAND; HOW'D YOU LIKE THIS PART? DID IT WARM YOU UP ON A COLD FALL NIGHT? READY FOR THE NEXT TWO CHAPTERS?
I've been surprised by the number of readers interested in becoming characters in this story. At first I thought it was nuts...now here's what I propose:
In the following chapters I will introduce some new characters, a few are already controllers, some are in the Organization, others are about to be inducted as candidates. If your age and physical description work maybe I'll use your specifics. Please don't over stylize yourself, i.e. puff up your measurements and abilities so much that you make yourself fictional. No real names, dates, places. The only two people who will know the character is based on you are you and I. AND I cannot promise anything, but if you are interested email me with your description:
physical type--size, weight, and description you might recognize
age (you must be an adult) and hair color, length, and eye color
interests, education, background
straight... bi... gay (single, married, divorced, in a relationship)
degree of resistance to being dominated--how much "control" will it take to break you--any specifics you'd like used--no maiming or disfigurement please
anything else about yourself you'd like to have included
I will do my best to include those interested
email me at: controlone@adelphia.net