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Note: Any resemblance to real people is strictly coincidental. No real people are depicted in this piece of fiction. This story contains explicit male to male sex, domination and bondage. If you don't enjoy reading this sort of material or are under the age of 21, DO NOT CONTINUE READING. If you regard this type of material as depraved then flee from here and don't look back! This story is NOT to be taken as an endorsement of the materials found on that site. Caveat emptor.
Mergers and Acquisitions - Chapter 3
Bradford McClintock awoke with his head splitting in two. He heard the sound of hard wheels rolling, like a cart or a rolling basket but he couldn't place the sound. He was sure his eyes were open but everything remained black and when he tried to call for help, only muffled sounds emerged from his spread jaws. His tongue was pressed down by some firm object and he tried to grab it to get it out of his mouth. Then he realized he couldn't move his hands either. In fact, he couldn't move anything. He thrashed about, trying to find any appendage that was free but to no avail. He was curled over, on his knees, his hands bound behind his back and his ankles seemed to be bound together as well. He was trussed tighter than a holiday turkey and, he suddenly realized, he was in motion. He worked to calm his mind and realized that the sound of the wheels he was hearing were, undoubtedly, the wheels on whatever means of transport was being employed to move him. His shoulders bounced against the sides of the container and they seemed to be canvas stretched over a metal frame of some sort.
His mind was spinning as he tried to connect the fragmented pieces of his recent memories and make sense of all this. Where was he? What had happened? He had to think! Then he began to remember.
That one evening, he'd received a call from one of his competitors, one Jack Thornsburg. Thornsburg, Jack Thornburg! He'd been with Jack Thornburg! It began to come back to him! Jack Thornburg had assaulted him and now, he was under Jack's complete control. And there was nothing he could do about it.
He heard a difference in the sounds as the wheels seemed to be running on a smoother surface and they seemed to be in a smaller space. Before, it had sounded like a large, open space but inside, somehow: perhaps a parking garage? But that had changed. Now, he knew they'd moved inside. The container he seemed to be inside of jarred suddenly and then moved into an even smaller space. The voices speaking quietly above him now had less echo. Then he heard a "ding" that sounded distinctly like a lift and soon felt the upward motion as the elevator began to rise. It seemed to be ascending quite a while, perhaps a minute, so he was sure they were going to the upper floors of a high-rise. Finally, the lift slowed and they were moving again. It was quiet; no sound of wheels on a hard floor but he could hear the squeaks of the wheels rotating on the axles. Then the sound of a door opening and more quiet voices. More movement and finally, whatever Brad was riding in stopped. Several minutes went by, or so he believed, but he realized that, in darkness, with no stimulus, other than his own thoughts, he couldn't be a good judge of time.
Suddenly, he was tipping over and he rolled out onto the floor. And it was a cold, hard floor. He thrashed his head around, trying to get a fix on sounds, trying desperately to see but he was apparently blindfolded. Then hands were on him, pulling him to his feet and dragging him across the floor. His legs were untied and kicked apart and he felt heavy metal shackles being placed around his ankles. Then, at last, his hands were freed and, as much as he wanted to swing his fists at whoever was manhandling him, his arms dropped to his sides; painfully useless from being bound in a cramped position for so long. They lifted his hands over his head and placed manacles around his wrists as well. He heard the sound of an electric motor and felt the tension on his arms increasing as the sound of chains running over a wheel told him that he was being strung up. Quickly, he was standing on the balls of his feet, spread-eagle, and, he just as quickly realized, buck naked. He could feel a cool breeze moving around his body and making him shiver. He was also trembling because he knew that, whatever was happening to him, it wasn't going to be good.
He heard a sharp command "Eyes!"
The blindfold was whipped off his eyes and he was now blinded by the intensity of the lights.
"Gag!"
The strap going around his head that held the gag in place was unbuckled and the gag pulled out of his mouth. As it was withdrawn across his tongue and from between his teeth and lips, he sensed it was a good replica of a human penis and he felt a moment of revulsion as he realized he'd once again been forced to hold a replica of a cock between his jaws. He heard footsteps coming toward him and willed himself to open his eyes. Squinting, his eyes still not adapted to the light, he saw Jack Thornsburg approaching him.
"Well, well, well. Bradford McClinton! Welcome to my home. I'm glad to finally get you here. I've been waiting a long time for this and finally, the day has come!"
"What the fuck's going on Thornsburg," yelled Brad, trying to jerk on the chains holding him but quickly realizing that, in the precarious position in which he was suspended, that there was no way he would get loose or even make much of a show of his anger. He could only use his voice. "I don't know what you're doing, but you'd better let me go and get me some clothes right now! You'll be hearing from my lawyers and the cops in the morning! Do you hear me?"
The last sounded, even in Brad's ears, a little shrill and hollow. He hadn't realized how panicked he was until he heard it in his own voice.
"Now, now, Brad, my boy. That's no way to talk to your host. I know we'll be hearing from your lawyers; I've already asked them to stop by and see me. But that's something we'll just worry about tomorrow. We have some other business to take care of tonight, and perhaps for the next several weeks. And you'll be very glad to know that it's all about you. Isn't that nice?" said Thornsburg coolly, holding Brad's jaw in his hand.
Brad was nonplused. What the hell was Thornsburg talking about? Why was he talking to Brad's lawyers? He stared at Jack in amazement. He knew him for a smart businessman, but he couldn't, for the life of him, work out what Thornsburg was up to. Thornsburg saw the look of consternation and confusion on Brad's face and just smiled.
"I know you're clueless right now, but it's not the first time. Of course, the problem with being clueless is that you're frequently clueless as to your cluelessness. But all will become clear. For the moment, let's just say everything will be taken care of in good time. And now, we have some things to do to get you ready for your next career."
Next career? What the hell was he talking about? Brad had a career and had no plans to change. He ran his own company; he was at the top of his game and the top of the heap and he wasn't planning on changing that. Certainly not by choice. Not by choice?
Brad began to tremble as the implications of Thornsburg's words and his own precarious position began to sink in and the pieces began to come together.
"Let me go Thornsburg. Fucking get me down from this and get me my clothes. Get me the fuck down!" he shouted, angrily and anxiously.
Jack Thornsburg just laughed. It was a laugh of triumph and pleasure. Then he stared at Brad without saying a word.
"Come on Jack," Brad started to cajole. "Let me go and we can forget about this. I won't call my lawyers. I won't cause you any trouble. Come on, just let me go," he smiled conciliatorily.
"I don't think so," Thornsburg said coldly. "You've hurt too many people on your way to the top and, frankly, you've been a bit of a thorn in my side. Today, that ends. Today we start your transformation. As I said, your 'new career'."
A shiver ran up Brad's spine and he started to shake, making the chains on which he hung clink softly. His eyes were wide and his mouth fell open.
"Now you're starting to get the picture. Much as you were a problem to me, I always knew you were a smart man Brad, my boy. That'll make the process go so much more smoothly. I know I'll appreciate that, and I'm sure you will too, once we get underway. You see, it makes things much simpler and less painful for you. Doesn't that make you happy boy?"
Brad just hung there, feeling terrified.
"I said, doesn't that make you happy boy!" Jack shouted, getting right up in Brad's face.
"Y-y-yes," Brad stammered.
"Yes what boy?"
"Yes sir?" Brad ventured, unsure as to what his enemy was looking for.
Jack relaxed and moved back.
"Good boy," he said quietly. "That's good. I knew you were a fast learner. Just don't forget it. I'll let it go this time because you're just starting, but next time, you'll be punished if you forget. Clear?"
"Yes," Brad said, hanging his head. Then he quickly looked up and added "sir. Yes sir."
"Good," Jack said unctuously. "Very good."
Thornsburg snapped his fingers.
"Strip him!" he ordered.
Mergers and Acquisitions -- Chapter 4
Brad was confused: he already had no clothes on; what did Thornsburg mean when he said to strip him? What was left? Then he saw two large guys wheeling a tray over. There were hair clippers on it, a cut throat razor and shaving gel.
"No, no, no," he shouted. "Not that. You can't do that!"
"No, what?" Jack responded, grabbing Brad's jaw in his hand and staring hard into his frightened eyes.
"Don't take my hair sir," he answered quickly. "Sir, don't do this to me!"
"Good boy. I'll give you less of a punishment for that because you were panicked. But panic isn't an excuse. Ten blows. This will be a spanking, as suits a bad boy."
Jack stood in front of him, wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close.
"You'd better count 'em boy. You remember how to count?" Jack demanded.
"Yes sir," Brad answered, trying to steel himself for what was to come.
He felt Jack's right arm move away from his body and then sensed the blow coming, colliding with his naked ass.
"Aaaagghhh! One sir, thank you sir. May I have another sir?" he shouted.
The smack of a bare hand on bare flesh, that sound that insinuated itself from his ears down to his cock, made his dick begin to harden. The juxtaposition of Jack's warmth and closeness as he hugged Brad against him, over against the punishment being meted out on his bare ass was almost more than he could stand. It turned him into a little boy, wanting and needing his father's discipline and love. By the fifth blow, Brad was crying out some unanswered need that Jack had pulled up from deep inside him: the need for his daddy. And he was crying from the humiliation of it: the humiliation of being treated like a child and the humiliation of the obvious response this treatment created in him. His stiff dick was trapped between their bodies and was beginning to ooze pre-cum.
The beating continued and with each blow, Jack whispered in his ear, "Good boy. That's my good boy. You'll be good now won't you boy?"
"Please daddy, please stop," Brad blubbered, lost in the desert of his own emotionally parched childhood.
Jack stroked Brad's inflamed butt, and knelt down to lick and soothe it.
"Good boy. You did your daddy proud. You took your punishment like a good boy. Now, let's get on with what we were doing, shall we boy?"
"N-no, please sir," Jack whispered, knowing that there was no preventing what was going to happen.
They began with the hair on his chest, running the clippers through the luxuriant, dark pelt. Tears welled up in Brad's eyes and ran down his face, mixing with the hair falling to the floor. He'd always been so proud of his body and the fur that set him apart as a man's man. No more. It was falling now, as was his sense of himself. When the hired muscle had finished with the clippers, the other thug took the shaving gel and applied it to Brad's denuded chest. Then, using the cut throat, he shave him clean, taking care as he worked around Brad's large nipples. The touch of the cold razor on Brad's skin made him shiver, both from the coolness and the dread, for this was truly a deadly weapon and he feared any slip of the blade.
"Hey boss, this boy has big nips, but we're going to have to work on the points. They're really flat."
"Yeah," Jack chuckled. "They were on my list. We'll get 'em pumped up and standing at attention before we're finished with him."
The thug sniggered and went back to his work, clearing everything on Brad's chest and belly. Then the first man stripped the hair from his armpits, with shaving gel and cut throat doing the clean- up. Next came arms, legs and ass. To do his ass, they released the tension on the chains some so that he could stand full on the floor and still have some slack. They kicked his feet apart and one of the men parted his cheeks so the other could have easy access to his crack. While they had his legs apart, they also stripped his perineum.
Already, Brad could feel the air moving over parts of his body that had been covered for years. It made him shiver, not so much from the cold as from the humiliation. But why was his cock stiffening? This was even more humiliating. If he could have, he would have covered himself but, as it was, there was no hiding it. Jack Thornsburg walked up to him.
"Well, well, well. Look at you. Stripped like the boy you are. Well, almost. We have just one more thing to do, don't we boy?" he chuckled.
"No, no. Please leave that. Please don't take that too sir," Brad whispered.
"No, it just wouldn't be right. Boys don't have hair on their bodies; men do. And, as you're beginning to understand, you're no longer a man," Jack said looking coldly into Brad's frightened eyes.
He held out his hand and his man gave him the clippers. He switched it on and held it in front of Brad's face.
"Say goodbye to your manhood boy. This is the end of it," he said coldly before placing the vibrating clippers at the top of Brad's pubes.
He ran the clippers straight down, clearing a naked patch in the middle of the boy's pubic bush. Then he cleared away the remainder. Tears welled in Brad's eyes as the visible evidence of his manhood fell to the floor, mixing with the rest of the fur lying at his feet. Jack took the shaving gel and applied it to his pubes, as well as his cock and balls and used the cut throat to render him smooth.
"Like a little boy," he said, rubbing his fingers over the denuded skin. "Just like a little boy. Nice," he whispered. "Oh, but I almost forgot. How stupid of me. We need to give you the proper haircut for a boy. After all, boys get into all sorts of things so the right haircut helps a boy stay neat."
Thornsburg took the clippers and ran them over Brad's head, buzzing his hair so that there was hardly any left. He rubbed the shorn hair with his hands as the cut hair rained on the floor.
"Good," he said, smiling. "That looks much better!"
Brad hung his head, slumping against the manacles. Not only was he stripped of his manhood, but his cock was throbbing and a string of pre-cum trailed from the tip of his hard dick to the fur on the floor where it had fallen. He could, in no way, deny his arousal from his humiliation.
"Raise your head boy," Thornsburg ordered.
"Wh-what?" Brad stammered, jolted out of his horror.
"Raise your head. Look in the mirror!" Jack said.
Simply following a direction, Brad raised his head to be startled by his reflection in the mirror facing him. His definition was now more pronounced, with his body denuded of its hair. His cock and balls looked exaggeratedly large, no longer hidden beneath the thick bush that had been there only minutes before. His stripped body, combined with his buzzed head, made him look like a freak. His cock rose up in response and smacked against his smooth belly.
Still, his mind was racing. Could this be what Thornsburg wanted? To simply humiliate him? To force him to admit his need to be abused? A need he hadn't recognized until this moment? Would this be enough? Would Jack let him go now? And what if he did? What would be the next step? The need was so self-evident; would Brad need to seek out those who would humiliate and degrade him but leave his life alone? Would he be forced to sneak around and find dominant men to use and humiliate him? He was so perplexed by his own responses that he couldn't discern what the subsequent steps would be but he knew he'd figure it out. And he detested Jack Thornsburg for showing him what he detested in himself: his need; a need he'd hidden even from himself all these years. Perhaps, just perhaps, if Jack let him go, he could put the genie back in the bottle. But that was a big "if".
Lost in his own thoughts, he hadn't noticed that Jack was once again standing in front of him. He slapped Brad's cheek hard, snapping his head around.
"Pay attention boy!" he yelled. "This isn't the time for you to zone out on me. From now on, I am your world! Do you understand me boy?"
"Yes sir," Brad snapped.
"Good. Because your life depends on me. I say when you can eat, when you can sleep, when you can piss and crap. I say who you suck and get fucked by. Do you understand me boy?"
"Yes sir," Brad answered, not fully aware of what was being said to him.
"You belong to me. Do you understand boy? Answer me!"
"Yes sir. I belong to you sir."
"Your ass is mine, your dick is mine, your balls are mine, your tits are mine. Your piss, your shit are mine. Do you understand?"
"Yes sir, I understand sir," Brad answered, confused by the swirl of circumstances and his own psychological unmooring.
"Then tell me boy. Tell me what I just said."
"My ass is yours, my dick is yours, my balls are yours, my tits are yours. I belong to you sir."
"You forgot something boy."
Brad frowned, trying to call back the list he'd just heard. Then it came to him.
"My piss and my shit are yours sir," he answered.
"Good boy. Now thank me."
"Yes sir, thank you Sir."
"Good boy. Time to move on to the next step."
Brad shook his head to clear it.
"No sir," he spat out.
"What did you say boy?" Jack demanded.
Now Brad was angry again.
"Let me go goddamit! Get me down. Let me out of here you goddamned cocksucker. Let me go!" he raged, yanking on the chains that held him and trying to kick his manacled feet.
Jack stood back, a cross between a smirk and a look of admiration on his face as he rubbed his crotch.
"Well, well. The boy has some spine left in him. I like that. But I'm used to that. Makes my job all the more interesting. Actually, I was beginning to wonder where that spine had gone to so quickly," he smiled. "Get him down Guy, and bring him to me."
Thornsburg turned on his heel and left the room.
To be continued.