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Give till it hurts...and if that's not enough, get with some s&m!
'OFfiCe JOckS FoR DOmiNaTiOn' 11
WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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(A little trickle of watersports at the end of this segment, in case you're not thirsty for this kind of thing! :)
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Confidentiality, the doctor's professional clause, soon turned itself around to mean Jared's kept secret, that he had fallen for one of his patients, Steve. In public, except at a bar, with intimate friends and party, they kept the doctor-patient relationship professional.
One of the things Steve has learned about Jared, whereas his shrink, aka boyfriend, could easily assume a role of a dominant-type. Steve even used the term, 'dominant-type', to explain his feelings of what they had going between themselves.
One of the quirks, earlier on in their relationship, it started as a tap to his abs.
Shortly there after, Steve tested his psych counselor, "that thing you did when we were talking with Tom, about tapping my stomach?"
It was like their eleventh meetup, Jared rolling out of bed in the morning, readying for his shower, and not recalling the exact moment, "what thing was that, Steven?"
Another quirk in their relationship, Jared calling him, 'Steve', at first it made him giggle, saying he hadn't heard anyone call him that, "my mom used to call me that. Makes me feel kinda warm having you do that."
"And what does this have to do with the tap?"
"Oh, nothing. But about the tap, and I hope this is not going to put a damper on what we have going?"
He had stepped out of bed, but Jared, seeing this as a 'Dr. Shrink' moment unfolding, kneels, then flips around, falls flat on his back, then turns on his side to face his patient, "I think there's very little you can say that will get me turned off towards you, that it's going to make me feel like this relationship is not going to work. So, what's on your mind?"
Steve liked it when Jared got serious, by something he always did, run the back of his fingers down his hairy bod, "that tap, well, I like it more than that, or at least would like to try it, if you know what I mean?"
With only the tip of the iceberg, each sharing about themselves, Jared starts to unravel some of the clues about how and why he became a counselor of the mind, "if I'm perceiving the situation right, you want me to punch you in the stomach?"
Steve felt both fearful, that he had crossed the line, but excited, "you're okay with that?"
One of the signs a patient, or any guy, likes something, Jared finds Steve in this predicament, with not having a pair of pants to hide his crotch, "well, I'd say you are 'quite' into it?"
Steve reaches a hand down and feels what Jared's eyes are spying upon, "uh. Yeah. It kind of gives me that kind of reaction."
"From what you communicated to me in our weekly psychotherapy sessions, what other things have you tried, resulting from having been bullied?"
"How did you guess?"
It made Steve sit up, which had Jared sitting as equals, backs to the pillows, "I did guess about liking to be gut punched, and I'm sure there's other things you would like to share?"
In the fifteen psychotherapy sessions they've had, Steve has shared he was bullied and that's it. Jared hadn't a sense of anything, except what is perceived as boys being boys, not the ideal excuse, but rather something deeper in the person being the bully.
"I never said this, but I didn't get along with my stepfather, that at times he could be rough on me. Sorry."
"No need to be sorry. Some people think that seeing a therapist after a few months heals everything. Like you, everything you remember happening with you is not going to surface until you recall those feelings, which sometimes could be repressed until the time comes, when you feel safe letting them out."
"Do you think we can talk more on that at my next session?"
Jared smiles, saying, "the doctor's in!"
"But you have to get ready to go to the office?"
From a stiff postured of lying up against a pillow, folding hands in front of himself, Jared slacks his bod down, turning to Steve. Slipping an arm behind Steve's neck, he turns sideways, right arm extended to where it's panning over the stomach.
"Friday's off, remember?"
"Oh. Right. Forgot you shrinks have a three day weekend!"
"Truth is," Jared says, "it might have looked like I was getting up to get ready for the office, but I have a confession."
"What's that?"
"I was going to make you breakfast, to bring you in bed."
Smiling, Steve says, "I'd rather have you to munch on!"
He stopped for moment, giving Steve a tap on the stomach, but furthering it by rubbing around in circles the hairy mass.
"What'd you stop for?"
"Because for right now, I think it's more relevant to find out what's in your brain than having another soppy mess to clean up!"
As a token of affection, Steve says, "I like cumming for you."
"Yeah," Jared says, "guess I got a little excited about that aspect myself."
With divided thoughts, Steve would love to pamper Jared once again, but also wanted to share his story, "about my stepdad?"
Jared was getting second wind, or rather a buildup of emotions, but being their 69 last night, leading to him fucking Steve, he's just as glad his boyfriend wanted to unload some history, "oh. Yeah, what about that?"
Steve was wise to Jared's thoughts going off topic.
Better than a shrink's couch, Steve lay flat on his back, the doc sideways, matching the contour of his patient's reclining bod, "anytime you want to start, Steven."
Steve was growing to like that name, which made him feel warm and safe, but of his stepfather, "he was okay around my mom, which I don't think he ever raised a hand to her, but it was entirely different with me."
Beginnning his tale of two parents, Steve opened with, "for one thing, I couldn't possibly burden my mom with what was happening."
"Hmm," Jared began to analyze, "I thought you had a close relationship with your mom?"
"I did, still do, but telling her how my stepdad was using me, both sexually and physically, I couldn't bear to make her unhappy. Does that make sense?"
"Of course. Love can make us do things, that not matter how bizarre, we spare others by taking on burdens which may cause others unhappiness. I'm not saying this is right. If you and I had crossed paths in your teenaged years, I might have been able to help you cope."
While Steve was processing those thoughts, Jared's hand was circling chest, massaging the dark hair swirling around each pec.
Another thing which stimulated Steve's thoughts, "um, another swipe of my nips might start me thinking about something else?"
Jared stops, not wanting to derail Steve's train of thought, "wouldn't want to steer you off topic?"
In those first eleven shrink sessions, Jared learned about Steve's desire for having sadistical things done to him, which he conceived as pleasure. Never once did he condone him for those actions, with exception, warning him about control or himself, never to take it farther than he could accept the pain or cause a stigma which might cause him mental grief later on. He did cite experiences other men whom he's counseled, were so eurphoric over the idea of being dominated, they lost touch with reality. In that frame of mind, a guy would find a man to 'play' with his bod, and without a trusted friend to monito their play, things were taken to the extreme, a guy getting more than he bargained for, the after effects of leaving emotional and physical scars.
"I never talked to anyone about my stepdad and at thrity-five years old, figured, it's not too late, is it?"
"Whenever you feel the need to shed some history, Steven, if it helps I'm here for you."
He smiled.
Jared claims, "there, it's working already!"
"No, it's not that."
"Oh? How's that go?"
With the same smile, different reason for doing it, Steve says, "it's just that every time you call me 'Steven', I feel almost like a different person."
"Would you rather I didn't?"
"Oh," Steve protests, "no, no, no, no, no, on the contrary, do."
It was Jared's turn to smile, thinking of so many things Steve has comeback at him, that it has meant much to him.
"In fact, you think that it's not too late for me to have people call me 'Steven'?"
"Of course not," Jared says, "it's never too late to change how you act, think, behave or whatever positive changes you want to make in your life." Curious and concerned, showing it was so, continuing to give Steven's hairy belly a warm rubbing over, "can we get back to your stepdad?"
"Sure." Steven continues his story, "like I said, my mom didn't know what the hell was happening between him and me."
Like before, Steven falls silent, leaving a lull in the telling of his teenaged story.
Handplay on Steven's stomach and chest did have a calming effect, Jared reassuring him, "there's only you and me and if it helps, doesn't matter if you're on the sofa in my office or here in bed, the confidentiality clause still is in effect."
Steven, taking on the position of left arm up, hand behind his head, flaunting a dark hairy pit, other arm paralleling the right side of his bod, left it parked between him and Jared. Without further ado, "oh, it's not that. I'm just not sure of the timeline, when it all took place."
"I see. Well, if it's a little out of sync, you can tell me along the way."
"Oh," Steven had to think on that and not sure exactly what his shrink was saying, "okay. I get it. First, you have to know what my stepdad was like. By trade he was a woodworker. I don't slight him for his knowledge of being able to turn a log into a chair leg or other thing."
"That is a gift," but Jared wasn't sure about how long he would be able to keep his composure, being that whenever Steven explained something, his right hand would struggle to gesture it and with that, it more than tickled his cock and balls!
"My biological father had a modest working area in the basement. Explaining that he would make furniture in the cellar and transport it to the furniture store, constructing masterpieces for special order customers, he spent his working hours at home and not at the store."
"Go on."
He had a problem with that, "uh, could you let up on the belly massage? I mean, it's getting a little heated down below and I'd much rather spend my load on having you make it, you-know?"
Even though Jared disagreed, that solely it was his hand feeling up Steven's hairy bod, that telling his story was partially inexcusable evidence, for making his shaft to swell up, giving his balls a pulsing sensation, "sure. No problem. Well, Steve there is a problem?"
"What's that?"
"When we're at the office there's a gap between you on the sofa and me in my chair. I'm not getting the sensations as with our naked bods lying next to each other in bed."
"Okay. No problem. Do whatever you want."
What Jared wanted and how he was going to get through this informal psych session, he didn't know. Regardless, he knew manipulating Steven with a hand rub, maybe it was or was not as stimulating as folding himself over onto the cub's front, placing arms across his bod, under the pecs and then resting his chin on top, "how's this?"
It probably was worse, Steven reckoning, "I have to admit, when you plopped your stomach down, crushing my balls, it felt kind of good, but I'll live with it."
Doing a check, Jared does a slight pushup, "you sure?"
Steven, anxious to empty his head of these thoughts that he's never shared with anyone, "if it gets a little moist down there, so be it."
With that understanding, it didn't take long for Steven to get back into the weave of things, "in the beginning, when they were first married, I was sixteen, almost seventeen, things were tame. Like Patrick, that's what I called him, he came and went and didn't speak to me much. When my mom was there, he'd call me 'son', or 'Steve'."
"Did you feel like his son?"
"No. Never. I'm not sure what he was to me or what I was to him, but we weren't father and son, nor friends. See my point?"
Steven waits.
"It might be clearer after you add some more, then maybe I can analyze the situation and give you my opinion."
"Cool," the thirty-five year old says, "then let me not interrupt myself."
One major thing Jared was having a problem with, is his posture, lying there on Steven's bod, arms along his lower pecs, hands folded in the middle, like heck those two pec nubs were peeking out from a mass of near-black hair and in a way, were tantalizing his tastebuds. Any minute now, he figured, the saliva flow would begin!
"Anyway, most of what I have to say is about the times mom was out to work and me and Patrick were home. I think he had a biological clock. Each time I walked in the door from school, he would say he needed my help in the woodshop. At first I said I had homework to do, buy Patrick said it could wait till later, after mom got home. Being I got home from school around 3:15 and mom wouldn't arrive home till about seven, that gave us roughly four hours of work time in the basement."
Ideas he was already getting, Jared says, "all work and no play?"
"At first I thought Patrick really did need my help and I went along with holding a piece of wood while he applied glue to it, but after he put the glue down, he said if was getting hot in the workshop. He set down the piece of wood and proceeded to strip off his shirt." The story perking up, "then Patrick said, if I was feeling hot, to do the same."
"Not which I'm really interested," which Jared was, "was he muscular? Chubby?"
"Kind of lean, but like a guy who goes to the gym sometimes. I suppose it was from working out with wood, sawing and picking up heavy chunks. I really thought he was hot looking. Dark, Irish hair...and oh, that ginger fur," Steven takes a long sigh, as if breathing in a fresh-baked apple pie, "like everytime, I couldn't wait to get my hands all over his bod!"
Just the way Steven told of his past history, reading like a sexy gay porn novel, each time it brought Jared immense pleasure, "well, you better save the sequel for another time, on account of," he looks down upon himself!
As they walk the hallway, a back door way of leaving the bar & grille, serpentining around corners, Steven didn't feel much different either, "I can take care of that anxiety, doc?"
Weeks ago, Jared, a trained psychiatrist, with thousands of hours of psychotherapy under his belt, for all those years, chose to service the gay community and in particular, since it was a private practice and he could pick and choose, chose only the male of the species. One of the statutes he upheld was never to become involved in a patient, other than a hug at greeting or departing.
Jared's throw-line to Steven was always, "I don't know how I let you slip under my radar?"
Matching his fuzzy bod up to Jared, Steven says, "maybe because I'm adorable and you have a weakness for cubs?"
With a stern look on his face, Jared says, "Steven, are you trying to psychoanalyze me?"
About nine weeks ago, Steven began to weasel his way into his shrink's life, with one of those departing hugs. Second week he was feeling so frisky, he couldn't help but augment on the caress, adding his hands to the mix, inserting hands into his shrink's jacket, sliding them up and down against the linen shirt.
"Could be, doc!"
The only difference between then and now, instead of threads keeping them in a sane state, they paired up in the raw, "hm, I never should have let you into my shirt!"
It made Steven smile then, and now, to think how easy it was to undo a few buttons, playing his shrink's bod like a fiddle, "oh really, well I never heard you complain," his hand was working Jared's cock into a stiff shaft, "when my lips were wrapped around this?"
They needn't look down, but since Steven had mentioned it, Jared had no choice, "how could I forget?"
Steven put a damper on their walking progress and was about to respond to Jared's needs, an auto response to knees feeling weak.
As happens when a plan is not carefully thought out, "hey, what are you guys up to?"
Whereas Steven's knees were to buckle and cave in, he stiffens up on the posture, "oh. Hi, Luca."
Making himself an accomplice, feeling guilty, Jared says, "yeah, hi."
Knowing very well he was, Luca says, "am I interrupting anything?"
Covering for both, Jared says, "yeah, we were just on our way to finding Rick and the others."
Getting the gist of Jared's words, Steven says, "you wouldn't happen to know where the boiler room is?"
"Yeah," Jared plays along, "we're kind of lost?"
"Not that I've ever been here before," Luca says, "but the instructions given me were to follow the path of hallways till I reach the end. Pretty simple directions?"
This made Jared and Steven feel like saps!
After Luca brushes past with his naked, foxy bod, Jared says, "it's guys like that I could just punch in the stomach!"
Then, like Steven has the psych master's degree, "like, where is this coming from, Jared?"
"Oh," like he doesn't realize, "what did I say?"
"You said you wanted to punch Jared in the stomach."
"I did?"
"Yup. You mo-certainly did, but I've got a solution for that."
Caving in, Jared says, "do I need psychotherapy?"
"Nah. If you ever have a craving, I can take a few gut punches from you?"
From eleven weeks of hashing out at Steven's history, the high school bullies, a step-father who was versatile at mixing discipline, in essence a tradeoff of s&m, without calling it that, Jared divulges one of his secrets, "truthfully, Steven, I could get into some of that."
Since his stepdad would come across that he wanted to punish Steven, only wanting to be tied down to his own workbench, suffer pleasurably with being whipped on the back, clamps placed on his nips, stretched overhead, or giving each other blowjobs, experiences make him realize, "while we're putting it out there, if you ever have the need to switch, that's a possibility?"
Apparently they were closer to the boiler room than thought, Luca waving a hand out the door, coaxing them, "hey guys, c'mon, you're missing it!"
Slowly, over weeks, Jared and Steven were discovering things about each other and as they found, like two puzzle pieces, fitting perfectly together, they were discovering something of their dark sides.
"To be continued?" Jared says.
Prior to Luca simply pushing the door open, Rick and Josh had found it to be the same. An hour or so before, George and Saad had entered the hot room. Though, the temperature didn't bother them much, both being stripped naked.
George's first time at the board meeting, this was not Saad's inaugaural day.
Upon entering the room which heated water for many sinks at the bar & grille, George was certainly overwhelmed and surprised when Saad deviates from the gruff demeanor he had at the board meeting, "it would be my pleasure if you would tie ropes to my wrists and suspend me from the pipes?"
Not which it didn't phase George in the wrong way, gazing upon the beefy, six-foot-two, muscular mideastern stud, standing with legs spread, arms up and extended outward, as if fashioned into an X, "wait. Say again?"
Making his decision clearer, Saad moves arms directly overhead, "or, you can position me arms above my head and tied to the pipe?"
"Hm," it mystified George. Used to being the 'taker', of whatever a 'giver' had to bestow upon him, he mulls it over, "and what should be my course of action?"
"Good thing you ask. A few months ago, when I got the idea that I've been dishing it out the past twenty years or so that I've found an interest in rough play, that I might get a thrill out of being under the authority of some other man. Therefore, I decided to keep a toolbox in the corner cabinet, in case I ever came across a hot man like you."
"Me? Hot? Like, what superlatives do I have which would make you draw those conclusions, Saad?"
Scanning George from head to balls, Saad pretty much had it in the bag, "and after you're done working me over, I give you my full permission to use that rod between your legs to your fullest advantage!"
Standing there with legs a little apart, arms folded under his poundcakes, George finally decides, "full advantage, eh. I surely hope you know what you're getting yourself into?"
After George finds the toolbox, rather large for what a woodworker or mechanic utilizes it for, brings it over to a small table, sets it on top, unlatches it, lifts the lid, finding a few items, "let me guess what this is for?"
Dangling from a finger is a silver chain. From each end hangs a welded on clamp.
"One of my favorites. You want to guess where to attach them to?"
"Let me guess."
He didn't attach the clamps to Saad's nips, instead rubbing them over his meaty pecs, sorting through the massive amounts of dark hair and when found, rubs the tips over each nip.
"Oooooh-yeah," Saad threw his head back in the agony of the ecstasy.
George wasn't surprised, Saad's shaft suddenly hardening up, extending so far from his pubes, it poked him!
"Maybe later. Let's see what else you are giving me to work with."
Even though Saad whimpered at the fact those clamps weren't going on his nips just yet, he felt the pleasuring of being in the graces of another man, "oh yes. See what else is in there to pleasure me with!"
George equated it to a kid on Christmas day, each package opened, better than the one before, as he pulls out a coiled up piece of leather, "hm, this might be nice to warm up your back, or lower!"
He laughs, thinking it funny, maybe a little nervous. However, Saad was dreaming up his own role in all of this, thinking of an enemy, waiting to be interrogated.
"Ohhh, now this I know I'll like," George retrieves from the tool box, several strands of leather. Like boot laces, they were much longer, "I've had my balls tied up. I even watched how it was being done, a mirror above the table I was cuffed own to. Might be interesting seeing if your orbs bulge as much as mine did!"
He laughed, Saad not sure now, if he liked the attitude. Nevertheless, when George starts to massage his golf balls, "oh yes, I must have those laces wrapped around now."
"Now?" George smiles, wondering who's in control here, "no, not right now. Saw something else in the toolbox that piqued my interest."
Chained clamps weren't the only thing on the top tray for tweaking nips, which Saad thinks George is going for. Truthfully, the nip clamps were great stimulation, but not as much as two pair of pincers, pinching nips, turning him on and off like a hot-tempered faucet!
"Let's see what's under here," George removes the top tray of ordinary carpenter tools to reveal a deep, deep recess.
"Oh now, here's something more in my league," he pulls out, one at a time, a pair of boxing gloves.
Being left-handed, George stuffs a fist into the corresponding glove.
Leaving the right glove off, he walks over to 'poor' Saad, with wrists cuffed to the overhead pipe via ropes, "but I see you might first need a little stimulation?"
Saad wonders why so close, with George in his immediate breathing space, "no, no, not so close," he meant what he thought he summised, a punch to his x-pack abs.
George, figuring Saad has gotten the wrong impression, fakes him out. The sadistic grin was painted across his face. With left hand dropping to his side, the left picks up the slack, or rather his own fat tube and in bringing it up to Saad's level, brings both their tubes side by side.
"Oh no, no, no...don't do that...please!"
"What? And have you cum before it's time. Nah," George backs off the fakeout.
Having been there, done that, with other men who have found it can be sensual, switching from the alpha role, to being passive, Saad is silenced by two fingers to his lips, "shh, now."
To top it off, in order for George to silence Saad, there was no way he could hold up a finger with a glove on his left fist, so he had to drop the sausages, which in response to a deep sigh, laughs, "ha, bet you didn't see that coming!"
Another thing Saad didn't see happen immediately was George's left glove, driven by pulling his left elbow back and then plowed into his midsection.
"Umffph...uhhhh!"
Clearly the air was knocked out of Saad, not having the insight to prepare for a full punch to his abs.
With the one, George makes a wellness check, "you okay?"
Panting, as opposed prepared and ready to take on another, a little winded, Saad says, "yes. Very okay."
One afternoon George, who personal trained men at Mike's Gym, came across a young delivery guy. Being there were two of the same name-calling, George and Jorge, who was really 'Hor-hay', the guy got the two mixed up. He had only trained with Jorge once, which after one session found him incompatible. The delivery man, upon returning to Mike's the next workout, was kind of sketchy on what Jorge looked like, but certainly, when Raphael was face to face with George, was quick to respond, "you're not the trainer I had last month?"
Apparently, last time he was in, Raphael complained about how he knew more than his trainer, to Mike. The gym owner then talked to George later that day and even though it seemed to Mike that Raphael acted like he 'owned the gym', he communicated, "yeah, the guy's got a chip on his shoulder. I figure, George," he placed a hand on George's shoulder, like talking with the son he never had, "you might be the one who correct that impression and at the same time figure out a meaningful workout for the client?"
George, who at the time only had one dominant experience, when he was used to being the passive sub, "why me?"
"I didn't hire you only to train, to build up the physical status of a man, George. You figure it out."
At the time, George was new to the gym and had a hunch, that if he didn't work out this problem with the client, he might be looking for work, "I'll see what I can do, Mike."
Gay, into what turned himself and other men on, George turned to a resource which could not only educate, but feed a guy's imagination. That night, George accessed a kinky website, 'Gay Bound Muscle Boys', which after a half hour of research, was not only hard and leaking, but had such an urge to be the subdued and not the aggressor. However, muscle up his mind and figure out how to be the dominant figure and not the other, which was no easy task, since he preferred being tied up and 'played with'!
Opening a file and keeping notes, George not only spent 71,011 characters, but had cum twice, getting weary around 2 in the morning. Realizing he had to be up at 4am to jog, then meet his first client at Mike's at nine, he conked out and slept with pools of semen still clinging to his pubes, abs and in slumber, had managed to smear the goo over his chest. When he woke there was a foul stench to his bed, which had him get up, roll the sheets into a ball and score some points with the hamper.
He went through the week with the same routine, except getting to bed at a decent hour. Not thinking it possible, George proved himself wrong, when he thought he could never do stuff to a man which he loved having done to himself. When he thought he knew enough, what he found is he only skimmed the surface. The way George realized this, is through the new maintenance man at his apartment complex. A firm believer in one experience preparing a person for the next, a leaky faucet had him setting eyes on the thirty-something year old handyman, feeling 'wowwed'!
Right from the start, George opening the door to him, John had it set in his mind some ideas of how to improve their new-founded relationship, "hey, I'm John. You put in a work report your sink was leaking?"
George did notice, the quick glance to his pubes, which maybe there was 'something there?', "uh, yeah. Right this way."
His steps in front of John, George made sure the tight gym pants he was wearing showed off the crease of his ass cheeks.
John was good at impressions, especially when it came to his own wellbeing. He smirked to himself, thinking how hot it would be to peel that lycra away from George's bare ass and assert himself...or rather insert!
From his next door neighbor, George had already an impression, that John could be bossy, so it was the perfect situation for him to find out how his acting skills were, if he could be dominant enough to take on an honery muscle jock at the gym.
Sure enough, a trickle came out of the bathroom spigot, no matter how tough George tried turning the cold water handle, "think you can fix it?"
That was George's first ploy, making John think he doubted his workmanship.
John had the same idea up his sleeve, and in rolling up both arms of his shirt, "are you kidding? Step aside and let me take a look."
While John fidgeted with the shower controls, in what seems like a few seconds and a wrench, "there all fixed."
George bit a lip, thinking if he didn't act, all would be lost. Plus, probably John knew this was already a setup. Being right next to the shower faucets and with John standing in the tub, "are you sure?"
"Oh shit, George!"
He knew there was no turning back now, not with John standing in the shower, drenched and water raining down his shirt and pants, "eh, too bad."
When an apology didn't come, John's balls started churning, the situation changing from being in his favor, to turning all authority over to the apartment dweller, "yeah. I can see that."
Everything was impromtu from there.
Stepping over the tub wall, John says, "I can't work like this. I'll have to go and change."
He was stopped dead in his tracks, George's hand to his chest, "hold on there, John. For sure I don't want water all over my clean apartment."
Oh man, were John's balls twitching, and in an effort to shed his gruff demeanor, "what do you suggest?"
Seeing the tide turn his way, George directs John, "you can strip down in the tub and I'll get you something to wear."
It was better than John could hope for, working frantically to unbutton his wet shirt, pull it back over his shoulders and for lack of thinking, just drop it in the tub. He was unbuckling his belt when George comes back.
"Hold it right there, John."
"What?" John says, hands frozen to the buckle.
It also occured to John, in George's hand was a skimpy pair of briefs, small cock pouch with strings to bind it to the legs.
"Go ahead." Making sure he was playing the part, George had studied on some kinky website, he kept his voice gruff, "strip the belt from the loops."
It was also too obvious, John's fox bod, hairy poundcakes, the stripe down his sixpack, a little more fuzzy around his navel, keeping George in suspence of the rest of the anatomy.
Ninety-five percent of the time John loved lying in bed, having a guy pamper him, then take a seat on the throne, but that five-per suddenly gripped his mind, "yeah," he throws a strong hint, "you might need it to keep me in line?"
George thought this way going along easier than he planned and glad to see smooth sailing, "oh, I'm sure I'm going to have to resort to more disciplining vices."
It wasn't exactly the words George had prepared, but worked!
"Oh man, where have you been all my life?"
Slowly, everything George did and said was followed by an agreeable response, which he was surprised, when all his acting skills were put into practice, didn't need much rehearsal, "which is mine now, right?"
John was suddenly in love, as his balls were telling him, "yes, sir, whatever you need, I'm at your service."
Hands frozen to his belt buckle, George says, "two demerits for not following through with my first order."
"Oh. Sure. Sorry," John says, pulling the belt from his pants loops, which was not a piece of cake, being the denims were soaked.
George felt kind of comical, but 'moved', by John working hard, twisting hips, turning this way and about, to get every inch of leather through all the loops, but also stuck to his script, "that two demerits is not ten."
John had been in this position only two times before, slave to another man's wishes, but each time, compelled to feel the buildup of emotional release, as if he were man on top, "yes, sir," so he milked it for what it was worth, causing the number of demerits to increase, "a little tougher to remove when it's wet."
It gave George the idea, to move a hand to the faucet control, "maybe it needs to be a little more slicker?"
"Oh shit!" John balks, the shower turned on him, cascading down his bod, clothed and unclothed.
The next shock came when George steps into the tub, "and while I'm tallying up your demerits, after you strip, you can strip me."
Good thing he remembered, while in his bedroom, tying ropes to four corners of the bed, he changed out of the lycra and opted for a spiffy speedo, which was obvious of how much joy he was getting out of all of this!
"Yes, sir."
However, if anyone ever tried, like John, to shed pants when wearing leather workboots, they would know what a difficult time he was having. Even bending over and trying to work wet laces seemed insurmountable, "having a little trouble here."
Right then and there, with John bent over, more than in half, George could have enjoyed a blow job, but holding out, "you better sit before you fall over, John."
When George went back to the bedroom, his throat was parched, due to being nervous. On his dresser was a water bottle from yesterday at the gym. Even though is tasted stale, he gulped the rest of it down and now he was glad of that distasteful imbibing. Watching John carefully seat himself down, George parked the speedo under his balls and before his victim could think, let loose!
"Oh shit, George!"
His piss stream hit John right in the chest!
Protesting, John grabs both sides of the tub, "damn you, George!"
Suddenly George feared for his life and almost in panic mode, decides if he doesn't hold up on the dominant facade, he could be the one suffering the consequences, he places a foot on John's chest, "where the fuck you think you're going, boy?"
"What-tha?"
John was in a fix here. Oh yes, he's experienced the submissive position, but that was only for some light gut punching, a show of man to man might and power. But 'this', it's not which he wasn't experiencing a wanting, but he had a decision to make and make it quick, which direction he wanted to take. Maybe his erection had an effect on that decision, to lie back and take what's coming to him, "okay. You got me. What next?"
George was surprised it was going the distance and faced with the next phase without a plan, he realizes the foot he placed on John's chest feels slimy, "for starters you can clean my foot."
"Sure," John agrees, "if you'll hand me a wash cloth?"
"Think again," George suddenly brought forth from the devious recesses of his mind.
"Come again?"
George snickers, "if I had it in me I would wet you down, but since I don't feel like laundering my towel, why don't you handle it?"
Almost in his face, John gets an impression, "you're not suggesting I lick your foot off?"
"Bingo!" George laughs.
He also removes his foot from John's rapid-breathing space, "nah. Maybe next time. Strip and get up. You need to get showered and ready to receive your 100 demerits."
Relieved he didn't have to lick the bottom of George's foot till it was squeaky clean, he did catch the last two words, "a hundred? I thought it was like, ten?"
Standing there, with his balls still parked in the balance of his wet speedos, his broad back keeping the water from hitting John, George furthers his authority, "from now on, John, there will be no need for you to think!"
Instead of fear, it was all John could do to hold back and keep from joining George in his infectious laughter. Really, he probably would have licked the foot off, but it was more fun to resist!
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% Copyright 2022 T. Chase McPhee
Developing segments of 'OFfiCe JOckS FoR DOmiNaTiOn' may not be amended, distributed, sold, used, quoted, paraphrased, chopped, sliced, diced, nor made part of any collection, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the author. Drones are prohibited from overhead viewing. _ Check here that you are not a robot.