Inexplicable Obsession Vince Masters (vincemaster2018@gmail.com)
Gay, Authoritarian
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This is a tale of unexpected, irrational surrender. It is a psychological tale of humiliation. As it has a BDSM content it is intended for over 18 readers as it explores the hidden shadow side of dominant and submissive personalities, and the unexplainable connections two strangers can have before, during and after sex. "What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us." Emerson
Chapter 1 Enigmatic meeting, July 2023
Hey Sirs, I'm Terry. What is my life of humiliation all about? How did this "owned" life of mine come about? How did I discover I was attracted to humiliation and service? It has been a year since Tom and I met, last summer, July, one month before our high school senior year started. I was 16 going on 17, straight, without a doubt dominant, or so I thought, captain of the football and swimming team, an A student, kind, generous, funny, and loving, loving especially Anna who had been my girlfriend for two years. My dad left us when I was a baby and mom raised me. My mom has a drinking problem. She leaves me mostly on my own. She is never nasty to me, just distant and disinterested. Because mom likes her privacy, when I turned 13, she made a suite for me over the garage which gives me my own privacy, so we see little of each other.
This summer Tom and his dad relocated to my town, a sleepy hamlet in the Midwest, a town where folks stay out of each other's business. His dad came here to head up the one and only employer of the town, AP industries, so he has, along with his son, vast power and both are given extraordinary deference. Tom, his son, and now my total owner, was the captain of his former high school football team and so in deference to his dad and his financial power over the town coach and the school board decided to have Tom and I be co-captains. I was pleased, as I understood the influence his dad has over the town, but I was disappointed. Still, I was ready to shake his hand and offer him all the support I could offer. It did not work out that way at all. I disliked Tom from the moment we met. While I was a running back, Tom had a tight end, 6'4" and 200 lb. of solid muscle. My Italian heritage afforded me deep soulful brown eyes, Tom was blond, green eyed and very Nordic looking. I had a shock of thick mahogany brown hair while Tom golden hair was cut in Marine officer style, prim, proper and commanding in its appearance. Already at the age of 17, three months older than me Tom was unsmiling, arrogant and spoke down to others particularly to me as if I were his inferior, his tone imperious, he did not speak to me, he ordered me. What shocked me, surprised me, what was inexplicable was my obsession with obeying, to follow, to serve, instead of being repulsed by this I mysteriously found it necessary, even exciting to obey.
The cool benefit being a captain is that the locker room is separated from the teams and the schools. The captain shared his locker room space with the coaches. We have our own spacious lockers, and a wonderful shower, hot tub and sauna set up. I loved the privacy of this reward until Tom used it in unimaginably cruel ways in breaking and training me. He also used my private bedroom suit at home, my mom's disinterest, the power his dad had over employment which made everybody turned a blind eye to what he did to me to break and train me. Tom used the elements of my life, used my own personality as his weapons of destruction, Humiliation of me both away from the eyes of the team, the school, and the eyes of my mom at home, encouraged by the complicity of the coach afraid to anger Tom's dad, all provided for what I only say was the birth of my natural submission, my immediate and inexplicable attraction to obeying him, surrendering, serving Tom.
That July morning, one year ago, the day I met Tom and his dad I awoke as a straight teen full of happiness and optimism. My life was good. I had only positive expectations, senior year, graduation, college scholarship even engagement to Anna, my beautiful girlfriend. As I dressed to meet Tom, my new co-captain I saw reflected in my dressing mirror a 16-year-old all-American Latin looking Italian teen, white teeth, 6'0" muscular, but not overly built, solid, bubble butt, 7" cut stud standing on wide size 11" feet. I liked that I had little dark body hair, I trimmed my pits and crotch, and was pleased that my ass was fuzz free. My longish light brown hair famed my face with just a slight curl making it attractively wavey. Tom called it "girly." I took pride in my solid biceps and pecks with their dime size flat nips, oh so sensitive. I had spent a great deal of time in the gym not only getting strong but sculpting my body to look hot. I am hot I though as I slipped on my white boxer briefs. Lucky guy, I thought. I could not know this was the last time I would ever think I was lucky.
Dressed in my best college prep outfit, blue dress shirt, blue and red stripe tie, our school and team colors, pale tan chinos, showing off my hot body, brown belt circled a tight trim waist, tan slip on shoes showing my fancy, sometime crazy designs sock that I was famous for with my friends, I was ready to attend the fancy brunch the school was giving for our new co-captain Tom and his dad. I was asked to give a brief welcome speech and had taken time to write down thoughts of welcome and expectations. Rehearsing it over in my mind I felt proud of myself, little did I know I would not be allowed by Tom to even speak, the first time I felt his power and control over me, something I could never have believed possible as I smiled warmly at my reflection in my dressing room mirror.
I drove over to the school full of expectations, proud of myself, my life so far. I pulled into the parking lot, into my spot reserved for captain of the team, a nice benefit, parking my vintage mustang that I had spent all last summer renovating, I went inside to meet Tom. The only cloud in my otherwise blue sky that morning was that my mom would not be there for me, with me, she was sleeping off another night off being drunk in her bed in her separate part of the house.
What I am about to share is still hard for me to believe, but on the other side of the teachers' lounge door a new life was waiting for me, waiting to take over my life without mercy, consideration, to simply possess me. Tom was on the other side of that door. He was the humiliating monster he turned out to be.
Coach was laughing with Tom and his dad, they seemed too cozy, that was my first premonition felt as a quick cringe of dread. "Terry! This is our new captain! Meet Tom and his dad." "Hey, nice to meet you co-captain and his dad." I stretched out my hand to shake theirs, but neither extended their hands. Mine was left hanging in the air. It was the first time they made me feel stupid. I had a sudden cold chill run through my body, as both father and son eyed me with a mixture of contempt and amusement. More to the point I felt a fascination, a compulsion never felt before, and attraction to them, especially to Tom that made me feel weak, dizzy, unsure. Later I found out that they did not plan to own me, they shared with me that meeting me made them see as submissive. Tom's dad would say, "I smelled submission on you, inside you!" From the moment I walked through the lounge door I too felt the same about me. Yes, they would admit, they were predators, and yes, they had owned others before, but I was "special" they told me, I was "born to be owned."
On this first day they were cold to me, dismissive, that July day it was subtle, I think maybe the coach noticed, but even if everyone had noticed Tom's dad was the guy who employed most of our town, no one was going to deny him, and everyone would and did look the other way. I was a sacrificial lamb ready to be humiliated and led into ownership.
As we sat down to brunch, Tom leaned into me, his shoulder touching mine and asked, "Where are your parents?" His tone was slimy. He pressed his powerful wide hand onto my upper thigh squeezing hard, and before I could answer he whispered, "Not important I guess looser, I heard one is a drunk and the other not man enough to stay around. I can see why the drink and ran just from looking at you. Enjoy the meal."
The welcome brunch was attended by the school board, the teachers and administration and the team. After the principal gave his welcoming remarks, the coach rose to welcome Tom. At the end of his glowing remarks, he asked me to stand and say a few words, as I rose Tom's powerful hand grasped my shoulder painfully pushing me down, and he rose to speak. He outlined both the failures and potential of our team indicating that last year's captain, me was, in his words, "less than adequate," even though we went as far as state games. "This year, with me in charge, we will go all the way to state champions. I am a winner. You don't need to put up with a second-rate captain anymore, isn't that right looser?" Everyone laughed, most uncomfortably, but no one corrected Tom, certainly not before his dad. I expected coach to correct him, that we were both in charge, that I too was a winner, but no such comment was made. I felt like a fool.
After lunch, the entire group gathered around Tom, and as he was greeted, welcomed, handshake and patted on the back, all the while he pressed his hand into my back moving me alone as a marionette so I could see up close each warm greeting. He held on to his strings. I was his puppet. He wanted me to feel all the adulation for him, feel me as someone insignificant or extra, not as a teammate or co-captain, but as his plaything. For the first time in my life, I did feel insignificant, ancillary, as an extension of another more powerful than me.
After the congratulations were over, I broke free from his hold, wanting to talk with the coach, wanting to do something to stop what felt to me like my inevitable disablement. Instead, Tom's dad asked to see the captain's locker room. Coach, Tom, his dad and I inspected the locker room. It was pretty cool, clean, quiet, only coach used it with us, and we both had large lockers. Tom's dad looked intently at the lockers. He, just as his son had done moments ago squeezed my shoulder painfully and asked, "Do you see what I see? Do you see what's wrong here?" I did not, it was just two nice lockers with name tags denoting Terry and Tom. He squeezed harder. I was sure a bruise would form. "You are an idiot, aren't you? My sons name tag should be on the outside locker, the first locker and yours, well it should not even be there, but since it is, for now, your name should be on the second locker." He waited for me to move the tags. Finally, I, trembling, moved and exchanged the tags, it was then I realized coach and Tom were standing behind me silently smirking. Why did coach not stop this, simple, his wife, like my mom were employed by Tom's dad, no one was going to buck either of these two dominant forces.
Out of nowhere Tom said, "Let's go!" I did not move, petrified. Tom would have none of it, he quietly said into my ear, I could feel his breath, "I want to see where you live, your room, your stuff. Let's go now, I'll drive. You can walk back to school and get your car latter."
He moved towards the door not looking back expecting me to obey and follow. I did not want to move, yet my feet were moving. I did not want to obey, yet my mind was almost wiped clean of my own will. I watched Tom's solid body, a masculine, fit, well-trained athlete's body not unlike mine and its image pulled me as if I were no more than iron filings before a powerful magnet.
At the door coach yelled out, "Hey you two, remember you must see the doc and get cleared for practice. I will set up the time." "But coach," I called back, "I saw the doc a few weeks ago." "Sorry boy, we think it best the two of you, the two co-captains get check out together at the same time." Did the coach just call me "boy?" What is happening to me and my life? And why did my cock jump when I heard him call me "boy?"
Tom drove us to my house. I led him up the stairs to my bedroom suite over the garage. As I unlocked the door and opened it Tom pushed me aside and strode into my room as if he owned both it and me. I was trembling and I did not know why or what to say. I dropped the keys onto the floor and my hands could hardly open to grasp them. I felt as if I was bowing before a god.
Tom inspected the room, it was a large studio with a small kitchenette, a large bathroom with both whirlpool tub and walk in shower, in front of my king bed there was a 65" TV mounted on the wall, a large dresser in the corner next to the door to a long walk-in closet. On top of the dresser was an expensive record player I saved up for all last summer doing odd jobs. I was into vinal and enormously proud of this player. Tom inspected it, lifted the player arm up, touched the needle, then in a premeditated jerk bent the arm back and snaped it off. "Oh, sorry, well I guess it was a chap set to begin with." I watch him drop the arm into the floor and press his boot on top of it. I did not say a word, make a sound, I was in the presence of true power.
He opened drawers, poked at my underwear, messed up my socks, helped up random T shirts, shirts, pants, suits, team uniforms, then dropped them onto the floor. Next Tom inspected the bathroom where he smirked often, obviously amused by the hair, face, and body products. This room inspection, no, this room invasion happened in complete silence, each smirk was like a distinct hammer blow smashing my pride and my privacy into oblivion, it was obvious and palpable felt by me. Never had I been so humiliated in my life. Never had I allowed this penetration into my private life to happen or thought I would allow it to happen.
Next, he turned his attention to another far wall where there were three sets of shelving holding my trophies and medals as well as photos of my family and friends. He inspected each, reading aloud the description of each award in a mocking tone.
What was his hold over me?
"Go get me a cold beer!"
The suddenness, the sharp command of his voice pierced my innocence. "My mom does not like......" "Fuck your drunken mom, go!
I hustled down the stairs into the house and jogged back with a cold one for him.
I found Tom lying on my bed with his mud dried cowboy boot soles rubbing dirt into my comforter. He stretched out his left arm and I placed the beer can in his hand. In his right-hand Tom held my bedside photo of Anna. I felt mesmerized. He was holding Anna photo staring at it. Trying to restore normalcy, a feeling now lost to me forever I spoke. "Ah, Tom, hate to be rude, but I promised Anna I would take his to the mall, I really have to go."
Tom stared at me deeply, searching for the humiliation I felt inside of me, when he found it reflected in my eyes he said in a frightening calm commanding voice, "Call her and tell he something has come up. You are not meeting her today, tell her I will not disappoint her. I will take he to the mall."
"Look Tom, this is ridiculous. I made a promise to my girlfriend, and I don't want to break it." I said this with relief releasing for a moment his domination over me, but spoiled it when after a silence I added, "please."
He staired at me in deafening defining silence, eyeing me up and down as he sipped his beer. There was in this horrendous, threatening silence a new definition of me being born, it would take the form of, "whatever you say Tom." Tom never broke eye contact with me. Silence began to hurt my ears. Zombie like I took my phone out of my dress chino pants back pocket, my hand feeling my solid ass pressing against the tan material, "whatever you say Tom," and pressed Anna number. "Hi babe, sorry something with the team has come up and I won't be able to make it this afternoon. Yea, I know I promised. Wait a sec. What's that Tom? Yes, the co-captain is here with me, we are discussing the team." Anna could hear what Tom was saying to me. "Tell her what I said." I spoke to Anna as if she were now some foreign person. "Tom does not want you to be disappointed, so he is coming over to meet you and take you to the mall. Is that, ok? There was an awkward pose, but since Anna was the head cheerleader, she was all about the team. "OK, I will tell him you address, and he will be over within thirty. Love you too."
"Her address!" Tom ordered, and I gave him Anna's address and phone number.
Tom smiled, rubbed his crouch, burped then ordered, "Pull your pathetic thing out and jerk off!"
"Now look, this, whatever this is, what you're doing, this is too much, just stop it, please." Again, I did not protest, I begged.
Disregarding me, disinterested in me as a person Tom continued, "Unzip, pull that worm out and beat it fast and hard, quickly cum onto the floor, no enjoyment, no pleasure, your worthless balls and cock better hurt when you are done, this is about me, not you. Do it!"
As in a dream, a nightmare from which I could not awaken I felt my hands unzipping my fly, fingers searched, found, and pulled out my ample 7" thick cut cock against my thinking or willing.
Tom's eyes were dancing maliciously, his lips curved upwards like that of a villain, his breathing was calm, directed, confident, sure of himself, "Fast, hard, quick, don't keep me waiting, cum on the floor. I have a date with your girlfriend."
Bewitched, I complied. Jerking off that hurt. I found I did it as fast and as hard as I could. Watching Tom finish his beer, crushing the can in his hand I began to shoot onto the floor moaning from pain not enjoyment. Tom stood up, dropped the crushed beer can into my cooling spouge splattered on my bedroom floor and walked out. Not a word was said. I fell to my knees, sobbing, feeling as if everything inside of me had just been poisoned and I was dying without a cure.
Who am I? Why am I letting this happen to me? I felt as if an alien were inside me, a creature so base, so fragile, needy, wanting to be humiliated that I deserve this.
Tom's confidence was undaunted, and soon in the weeks ahead I was reduced from the respected leader to his personal plaything, his flunkey, changed from a private friendly teen to a pubic pathic teen slave.
He naturally assumed the mantle of leadership that I had held, and I followed humbly, no longer as co-captains, but as his faggot, as Tom called me. At first, I was not sure why or how he had such control over me, although I would always obey. The first few months I would also rebel inside, never outside struggling to not be the faggot Tom knew I was. When he saw my internal rebellion Tom would explain who I was, and against my will, my better judgement, my morals, my abilities, it made sense to me. I was not a person, a male teen, or anything that had rights, feelings, definitions, I was a straight faggot, just a faggot; I was Tom's faggot. I grew from disliking him to hating him, yet never could I stop myself from being drawn to him much as a moth to a flame. If you would like to know more dear readers about how this all happened, I will continue to share with you, as Tom allows me and directs me. Please let me know.