Disclaimer: All rights reserved. No part of the story can be reproduced in any form without the express permission of the author, MACK Wayne.
slaveMaster Tempter
Ch - 5 First Look
Some of Max's close associates had transponders allowing them access to the garage when their code was programmed into the system. When one came down the alley the security cameras were activated and the system was notified of a visitor. The vehicle could be observed approaching the door and when in appropriate range, a signal entered from the car. At that point, either Max or one of his men could operate the roll up door for entry. Guests parked on the lower level unless otherwise instructed and entered on the first floor. Bob parked and walked to the door.
It was getting more and more difficult by the moment for Jake when the sound came mercifully from the intercom. Max confirmed on the screen that it was Bob, and buzzed him in, telling him to come on up to the "get acquainted room," as he'd named it. Bob knew the way. He'd been there before, "That's the client," Max said to his very uncomfortable victim.
Jake - holding his belly from cramps - spoke in a belabored voice, "I'm sorry about what I said before Sir. Would now be a good time for me to clean up Sir?"
"Much better," was Max's exclamation. "Now go and make yourself so clean I could stick my tongue up that shit hole and not taste a thing. Mindlessly, Jake scurried into the next room and closed the door. There was a shower but no toilet. He opened the door, "Sir?"
"Void in the bucket and seal it closed," came the answer to the anticipated question, "And leave that door open!"
"Yes Sir," he answered. He didn't understand, but there was only one thing on his mind, and that was his urgent need to shit. He almost lost it while removing the lid of the container, but amazingly held it until he squatted over it. He farted and sputtered and splashed, exploded, and shot, and in the middle of all the crude noises, he saw Max's friend walk past the open door over to the bar where Max stood. In the mirror over the vanity he could see them shaking hands and talking.
"Atta boy! Sounds like it'll be clean now huh?" Max yelled.
"Yes Sir!" Jake hollered out.
Max walked over to the doorway and looked in as he switched on the powerful exhaust fan. "Do a good job for me now boy! And be sure you seal that lid on the bucket when you get off." The bucket had the appearance of a pressure cooker with an airtight locking lid. Jake watched the men in the mirror when he could see them, "Max's friend wasn't exactly hot," he thought to himself, "but he wasn't bad. Definitely more handsome than Max." Max's beard and hair, he had thought, were what detracted from him most.
The men moved about the room. Sometimes Jake could see them in the mirror through the clear glass shower, and sometimes not - and between the fan and the water noise he could hear nothing. But at one point he watched transfixed from his crouched position on the shower floor - douche hose flushing the now clean shit hole. In the mirror, he saw Max's visage change. He watched as he removed his hair, and then peeled off his beard and mustache, "That's why they looked bad," he said to himself. "They weren't real." It seemed like it should matter somehow. Somehow it seemed important, but try as he would, his scrambled brain couldn't figure out how.
"Hurry up in there, boy! Don't keep us waiting unduly!"
"Yes Sir! All clean Sir! Just have to dry off Sir!"
"Get out here right now!" The impatience in Max's voice made Jake scramble and worry. He ran into the room toward Max carrying the towel.
"Is something wrong Sir?" He was dripping wet from the waist down. His hairy legs and ass were accentuated by the wetness and it looked great. Bob was taking in his first sight of what might become his, and he loved every square, muscular, masculine, centimeter, like Max knew he would.
Max continued in the same tone. "You don't tell me what has to be done. You ask me for permission, or you find out if its what I want. Not, "just have to dry off Sir," but, "Is there time to dry off Sir?" or, "do you wish me to dry off Sir? You don't tell! You ask! That's the second time for that same kind of fuckup. Now apologize! And don't embarrass me again in front of my friend!"
Jake's reasoning ability was fuzzy at best. His speech was slowed, and his confusion obvious. He was definitely not the man who had walked voluntarily into this lair. He'd forgotten why he had come, and was only able to act and react to what was happening in the moment. And that was exactly what he was being conditioned to do. His apology was real and sincere.
"I'm sorry Sir. What's wrong with me? I'm really trying Sir - but - " Max cut him off and told him to go re-wet himself from the waist down, and try again. The befuddled boy returned to the bathroom and followed his instructions, "Wet Sir. Do you want me to dry off Sir?"
"No! Bring that pretty white ass out here boy - no towel necessary." Max had filled Bob in on everything that had happened thus far and told him he was welcome to join in the game. However, he was not to allude to the fact that Jake's goose was already cooked. Max would decide the timing on that. But if Jake broke and stopped cooperating during their play - which he seriously doubted at this point - Max would call Dieter in to subdue him.
Max told the beautiful emerging thing - wet from the waist down - to go to the bar and get himself another beverage. The water clinging to the hair on his muscular legs and ass definitely increased the view ability quotient for Bob - especially knowing the reason for it being there. Jake knew he'd had more to drink - possibly than ever, but despite the fact, the idea of not hesitating was echoing in his fuzzy mind and making sense. His CO knew best he told himself, and not needing to think about it felt right.
As he walked over to fix a drink for himself, the two men sat on the sofa and exchanged softly. Max had also turned on some soft music, which had a dampening effect. Their eyes were both fixed to the movements of their toy as he walked over and moved at the bar to accomplish his assigned task. Bob leaned over without removing his eyes from the fantastic bubble butted backside of the naked beauty. "You're having a ball with this one aren't you my friend?" Max nodded his agreement. "How long do you think you can keep him from knowing?"
Max said he could keep Jake at this level for days if he maintained the status quo and drug saturation, but he had no intention of that. He said he was just playing it by ear and wanted to indulge his pleasure. It had been a couple months since he'd had a toy on hand, and this one was prettier than the last.
Max got up and went over to the bar. He slapped Jake on the ass. "Well, this is it," Max said to his friend, "Now is this your type or is this your type?" Max reached in his pocket and got out another capsule. He opened it and pretended to hide its addition to the drink Jake had just finished making for himself. Then he whispered into Jake's ear. The condescending news was couched in concern. "I'm giving you a little extra help boy. I've had to reprimand you several times here lately. You've embarrassed me in front of my client and I wouldn't want it to happen again. He came over just because of you - " Max interrupted himself to tell Jake to drink down his now stirred drink. The boy put it to his lips and as he started, Max tipped it making him swallow even faster, " - so I want you to impress me with how cooperative you can be - none of this selfishness," he whispered, "Just think about not disappointing me or embarrassing me. Help me here - instead of fucking up - Ok?" The drink had been guzzled, the glass put down, and Jake's brain quietly programmed for the next phase of Max's entertainment.
"What's going on over there boys?" Bob asked with feigned curiosity, but knowing full well.
Max's return was quick. "Oh - this pretty thing here was just telling me how it wants to make a good impression on you. It's flattered that you came over just to check it out and it really wants to please you and not embarrass me." Max's hand was feeling the damp ass cheeks and his fingers were coming into contact with the whistle clean asshole as he spoke. "In fact it was just talking about you," he looked at Jake, "Wasn't it boy?" The impersonal pronouns were beginning to flow. Dehumanization was the intension, and the naked victim oblivious to the downward progress.
"Yes Sir."
"It was just mentioning how drawn it was by the huge bulge in your pants, & saying how amazing it looked - isn't that right boy? He preempted Jakes opportunity to respond and told him he could take their drink orders soon.
Max walked back toward the sofa. "Tell my friend here what you were doing in the bathroom when he arrived boy."
"I was cleaning out Sir."
"Drinks boy! Weren't you going to take our drink orders?" Max had just set the boy up by putting him at ease about the timing on the drinks, and then derided him for taking too long. The more diminished Jake's sense of self, the better. Max was a master at fucking an augmented mind, and Jake's was being fucked till he would see nothing in himself but an indebted screw up.
"Yes Sir," and another consequential apology, as he walked toward the men, "I'm sorry Sirs." He thought quickly how to present himself to best please Max, "May I have the honor of making drinks for you gentlemen?"
Max gave him a little "Ok" sign on the supposed sly, to lead him on. While Jake made the drinks, Bob grilled him on the whole matter of cleaning out. He already new from Max what had happened so he led the boy - trying so hard to cooperate - through all the embarrassing details. Red faced, their naked bartender had to talk about his resistance to Max's shitty fingers, and of suppositories, & cleaning his own finger. He had to speak of having to wait longer because of not addressing his CO properly about relieving himself - closing the door for undeserved privacy - voiding in the bucket - and then a detailed accounting of how he douched himself out with the hose. Having Jake naked in front of them and embarrassing himself so completely had Bob's dick like a steel rod down the leg of his pants - and it was a donkey dick. He was more than ready to try out this clean hole of which so much was being spoken.
Bob addressed the beauty to focus Jake's attention on himself & to elicit a direct response from him. "Would you mind if I asked you to play with yourself Jake?" He looked right at Jake & waited till he started speaking his polite reply. As he spoke it, Bob ignored his answer & spoke over it as he turned to Max. "Could I see him on the turntable? I'd just like to sit and savor his form for a while."
"Sure. No problem." Max said. The main reason for Bob's addressing Jake was to ignore his answer & affirm that what was happening was between the two men, & had little or nothing to do with anything Jake might have been agreeing to, or felt, or wanted.
Max hit a button on a remote, and a 48" round section of the carpet began to raise up about eight inches. Bob put a bar stool in the middle of the circle & presumed to give Jake the order, "Sit here," he ordered, as he slapped the top of the stool. As Jake sat down where directed, the platform began to rotate very, very, slowly. "Play with yourself," Bob said, "Just flex your muscles, feel yourself, and jerk off like you would at home. Work yourself up to orgasm and let me know when you're almost there. No rush. Take your time." Max adjusted the intensity of the lights focused on the rotating figure, brought the room lights down a bit, and they settled back to watch their own 25 cent peep show actor - only there was no screen to come down and cut off their view, nor would this actor be paid even the two bits for his performance. The muscular carpenter modeled his body for his prurient observers. He flexed muscles that were no longer his, and played with the dick he might never be allowed to enjoy again. It just seemed to keep getting bigger and harder, the longer he played.
The chemicals were brain and thought related but had no effect on the boy's ability to perform sexually - in fact quite to the contrary - with sex, as with everything else, he was completely suggestible. His breathing was measured. His chest heaved and his diaphragm expanded and contracted his hot hairy abs. He pinched his big erect nipples and kept wetting his right hand with saliva for lubricant. He stroked himself long, and slow, and sensuously, and in his clouded mind slave boys rushed to service him as he felt himself. The sweat from the heat of the intense bright lights clung to the tracings of hair on his back and upper arms and it dripped from the hair on his chest and in his armpits.
Bob slid his pants down and stroked his horse-like endowment and thought about what this masculine thing could suffer at his hand. It took about 10 minutes for Jake to reach the point of orgasm. He announced he was there, and was told not to let himself cum. Bob had him stop for a bit and then start right back up again. He kept him working it up and stopping him. The intervals in between averaged about a minute or less. He was allowed to stop as long as it took to subside from orgasm, but other than that, he had to keep stroking himself. Jake performed this sweaty pleasure torture for about a half hour before Bob was ready for it to cease. Jake was frantic with the need to shoot. He had worked himself literally into a frenzy of desire when he heard Bob's voice in his head. It was as if it was off in the distance somewhere and it didn't assimilate until he heard, "Now!" shouted loudly and impatiently. The men knew Jake was in his own little drug induced place, & Bob had spoken his order softly enough that Jake would barely hear it & could be made to once again feel guilty for missing what was said. In a daze he realized he'd been directed to do something and he wasn't sure what. He thought he might have heard the word, "drinks," but he wasn't positive.
"I'm sorry Sir. Did you say you wanted drinks Sir?"
"That's right butt brain! Weren't you listening?" He was dumb with confusion and the fear he'd misstepped again. "Too involved with yourself there to hear my request?" He stammered for words and was cut off. "Just get them!"
"Yes Sir! I'm sorry Sir!" He stumbled sweaty - rocket cock pointing straight out in front of him - to the bar, out of breath, trying to focus on what the drinks were. He was more horny and frustrated than he'd ever been in his life. His dick was hard, and his mind was soft, and he couldn't think at all. In the silence he turned to the men he felt the obligation to please. "I'm sorry Sirs. I can't remember," The drug and Max's skillful manipulations were turning this otherwise independent, self-reliant, man, into a totally dependent object who now found himself apologizing at the drop of a hat for most everything - wanting to relieve himself - closing the bathroom door - not wanting Max to go through his wallet - not trusting him with "all" his confidences - resisting when shitty fingers were stuck in his mouth - not wanting to spike his own drink with a completely unknown substance - not listening or accommodating in time - and he was genuinely sorry for all of it.
Max stepped up to the panting figure. He and Bob had just come up with a quick plan. Pretending to place himself between Jake and Bob so Bob wouldn't over hear him, he scolded Jake. "You should be ashamed of yourself! Are you really sorry? Or is this just something you like to say?" Jake started to respond and Max cut him off. "I don't even want to hear it anymore. It's empty words. You've embarrassed me once again in front of my very important client. If you fuck up the deal I have working with him, I will loose a lot of money. Remember the way I augment my income? Do you want to fuck that up like you're fucking other things up around here?"
Jake was now scarlet, as he sheepishly, and breathlessly, replied, "No Sir."
"Do you want to help for a change - instead of hindering? Do you want to help make this embarrassment right and make up for your selfishness and stupidity? Tell you what - you help me cinch this deal - I'll let you sleep the drug off a few hours and you're outa here. If my client isn't happy and doesn't close my deal, I'll make you eat every ounce of what you shit into that pail over the next week before I even think of letting you go - Agreed?"
There was no talk of letting his dupe do what he'd come for - to see a real slave - but in his hazy and drugged stupor, that thought had passed. Jake's panting had slowed to heavy breathing as he said he would make Bob happy no matter what, and Max continued, "Here is the deal. Despite your screw-ups, this man likes you a lot. You are exactly his type, and I know he would enjoy fucking you. But with that prize winning cock of his, he's used to being begged for it, and he lets a lot of pretty asses go by, if he's not convinced the guy needs it more than anything."
"So why don't you freshen his drink - take it over to him - apologize for being such a fuck up, and butter him up. Thank him for anything you can think of, admire his cock and convince him to fuck you. He loves to fuck a beggar."
"But Sir. His cock is huge and I haven't been fucked in years Sir."
"And it'll no doubt hurt. But you'll do this small favor for me to prove you really are sorry and to help me cinch this deal. You owe me that much. And I know from our wallet discussion earlier you're the kind of guy that likes to stay current on what he owes. Besides the only other option is staying here for the next week to eat that pail full of your shit. And I know you don't want that - right?"
"No Sir. Was the only answer to that question, drug haze or not.
"So you will do whatever is necessary to get his cock up your beautiful ass! Right?"
"Yes Sir."
"You'll do anything to accomplish this for me won't you? You'll beg, plead, cajole, and lie to make it happen! Right?" Jake pledge, promised, and swore to do what was necessary for his CO's benefit. Max told Bob he'd be back in a while and that the `pretty thing' would be bringing him his drink right away.
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