STRIPPED by Questorius@ yahoo.com.uk
Chapter 4. WILL POWER
The odd thing was that Will had always quite liked Ian - thought him a good boss and rather respected him. But leaning there against the door jamb, watching his boss slowly wanking himself while poring over porno pictures, well, it was hard to respect such a man! The way he peered at each picture in turn, wholly engrossed and oblivious to anything going on around him filled Will with amused contempt. Then Ian looked up and for a second their eyes locked.
Will noted how he went deathly white and seemed locked in a rictus of blind panic. Pathetic! He walked across and round behind the desk to lean over Ian, one hand on his shoulder. There was no hurried sweeping away of the shameful evidence this time - what was the point? - but Will noted how the right hand was brought up from beneath the desk with a studiedly slow casualness, except that it was visibly shaking which made the effort to hide its dirty purpose quite ridiculous.
Will scanned the photos laid out in the open file, deliberately pressing himself against Ian as he did so. Ian felt the pressure and the warmth seeping from Will's body, could hear his breath close to his ear and, still frozen into immobility, watched with fascinated horror as the young man reached down to touch one of the pictures. It was the close-up of the beaten buttocks, livid with red weals, and Ian saw the middle finger stroke gently across the striped cheeks as if feeling the raised welts with lascivious pleasure.
It was too much! With a sudden awkward jerkiness, Ian got to his feet and turned to face his young employee. Somehow Will's hand remained resting on his shoulder. That is all it was doing, just resting there, but to Ian it's weight seemed crushing. His convulsively shaking knees began to buckle and he was sinking down, down, down. How long did it take him to fall to his knees? Half a second maybe? But to Ian it took an age, seemingly in extreme slow motion. And as he went down a voice inside his head was screaming "No! no! this isn't right! I am the senior one here. I am his boss. I am 10 years older. I am a husband and a father. I should not be kneeling to him!" But he could not stop himself and found himself on his knees with the young giant towering over him.
Will cupped his hand behind his boss's neck and drew him in. There was no resistance - it all seemed so natural and inevitable - and scrubbed the face in his burgeoning crotch, scrubbed it hard! And Ian was lost. Totally lost. He just felt so at home down there having his face rubbed in this man's crotch, smelling the man-smell of him, breathing the sweet scent of submission. It was something he had never even imagined himself doing, yet it felt so right!
By the same token Will had never had a man kneeling at his feet before and he decided he liked it. He felt a surge of power. He'd certainly never had a man hungering for his cock, gnawing at the harsh denim of his jeans as if impatient to get inside to gobble raw cock. That prostitute he'd hired in Birmingham when he'd gone to the NEC for the big Antique Furniture Show, she had given him a blow job and so had that red-headed barmaid from The Crown, but on both occasions he had been sprawled naked on the bed. Both had been very exciting, very satisfying, but neither carried quite the charge of heady power he got from having his boss kneeling between his legs, paying homage to the him as the Dominant Male!
Will unzipped and hoisted out his rampant penis. Ian looked up at him in wide eyed amazement at the size of the ugly, brute thing in front of his face and he gaped his mouth wide to engulf it. Will noted the eagerness, like a baby bird gaping to be fed, and felt disgusted that another man should be so depraved as to do this. He put his hand flat on his lower belly with one finger down either side of his cock and with this leverage, synchronised with a swing of his hips, he used his dick like a hard rubber truncheon to cosh Ian about the face. He grinned happily to see the look of outraged shock on his employer's face as the thick erection smashed across his face. So he did it again ... and again ... and again. It felt good to cock-whip the grovelling bastard! He felt strong. He felt powerful. He felt in control. Show the bastard who was really the boss now!
Shocked by this crude brutality, Ian looked up at his tormentor and in a hoarse whisper asked "Why, Will, why?" to which the young man replied with a cruel and unanswerable logic "Because I can."
It didn't really hurt Ian's face much to have it cock-thrashed, but it hurt his pride and damaged his sense of manhood. There was his life before, as a man, a husband, a father. And then there was his life after, as a - what? As a submissive, cock sucking, degraded pervert, that's what!
Having cock-whipped him, Will looked down and seeing the moist, warm, pink fuck-hole in the face, he slammed his dick into it. Ian gagged and heaved and pushed agaist the hard thighs to distance himself but Will simply grabbed his ears and, using them like fuck handles, continued to pleasure himself, gaining added satisfaction from his victm's struggles and strangled complaints. Unfortunately, when he shot, the spasm was so violent his cock jerked right out of the mouth and the first bolt of cum fired directly up the face's left nostril. Will quickly poked himself back in and all the following spurts went properly to the back of the throat. Only then did he let go of the ears and Ian sank into a heap on the floor, coughing and gasping. Will looked down on the untidy sprawl of the cast-off fuck with considerable disgust and was about to turn and leave when Ian turned his ravaged face up to his user and noisily snorted the semen up his nose into his throat and ostentatiously swallowed it. That was nauseating enough but what really sickened Will was the smug "what a good boy am I" look on his silly face as if expecting praise. Will kicked him in the guts to show his contempt, turned on his heel and strode down the length of the workshop to the door and escaped into the street, slamming the door behind him.
Ian lay there on the floor, gasping for air and clutching his belly - God but that kick HURT! - and listening to the sound of Will's heavy boots clomping down the length of the workshop and the the door slamming shut. Alone, he rolled onto his back and as he recovered he began to do something that shocked even himself - he began to masturbate. But it was not the thought of Will's huge cock fucking his face or the taste of the semen in his mouth which excited him. It was the power and brutality of the man that turned him on. Above all the look of contempt on Will's face just before he kicked him in the guts. He knew he had been USED by a genuinely dominant male and the concept excited him to orgasm.
That night two men on opposite sides of the town lay awake and unable to sleep. Ian in his comfortable home in a leafy suburb, lay sleepless in his pyjamas beside his wife, worrying about tomorrow. How could he face Will? One thing was clear, what had happened tonight was an aberration, never to be repeated. It had to be put from his mind. Wiped clean. The only possible strategy was to act as if nothing whatever had happened. In time it would be forgotten and Will would be again what he had always been, a skilled craftsman, a pleasant and easy-going employee. And Ian would not think of the surprising hardness of those strapping thighs as he pressed his hands against them, trying to push himself away. Nor of the ease with which Will had imposed himself on him. Nor ... NO! In desperation he reached out for his sleeping wife and pulled her close. "I am a man, a husband, a father!" he told himself as he fondled her breasts and pressed his erection against her.
Lying naked in his bed in his flat over a grocer's shop, Will was also wondering how things would be tomorrow morning. Perhaps Ian would fire him! He smiled to himself, no, he wouldn't be that stupid. That would be asking for trouble! But it would be a bit tricky finding a way to relate to a man last seen on his knees chewing on your spunk! Will, like Ian, came to the conclusion that the best strategy would be to act during working hours as if nothing had happened. In that they were as one but where they differed was on what would happen once the others had left. Will had enjoyed the heady sense of power and control far too much to give it up now. He thought of those extraordinary photographs and realised he had only scratched the surface of the possibilities open to him in putting Ian's submissiveness to the test. Perhaps he might try the slow stripping technique, transforming his boss into a naked, snivelling fuck-slave. Alternatively he might just saunter into his office at five o'clock and say "Strip!" And what if Ian refused, or blustered? Will was confidant that a swift slap across the mouth with the hard-knuckled back of his hand would quickly re-establish a proper state of affairs! Not that he would impose his will on the unfortunate man every evening. Sometimes he would leave with the others, other times he would work late but make no move to use his sex-toy. The point was that Ian would never know and would be kept in an agony of doubt. Was this a night when he would have un-natural uses made of him or not? He realised with a sense of glee that there were subtle psychological ways in which he could show his power which in their different way could be as pleasing as more overt cruelties.
Will stroked one hand over his naked torso while the other massaged his hefty cock which dribbled fuck-juice at the thought of those "overt cruelties". He had never in his life tortured someone's nipples as the man in the photographs had been tortured, nor tied up someone's balls with straps and cords and weights but he had every intention of exploring these interesting activities in future. And he had most certainly never flogged or thrashed a man, but as he remembered those pictures of savagely welted flesh his sexual excitement grew. He imagined what it would be like to raise a leather strap and crack it across a naked back, to see the target flinch, to hear it gasp with pain, or to wield a long, whippy cane and swish it across bared buttocks. Yes! Oh yes! And then to mount the beaten body and penetrate it and punish-fuck it till it whimpered and moaned...
His sweat-drenched body jerked and spasmed and the wet, white fuck fountained from his body for the second time that night. Afterwards he slid into contented slumber musing on the ways in which his boss would be made to submit to his rampant maleness in ever more degrading ways, simply because he had the power to do so - simply because he could.
Ian too slept after pleasuring his wife. He felt much easier in his mind now that he had re-affirmed his manhood and, resolving never to wallow in the mire of shame ever again, and he slept peacefully.
Two men. One sure that the normality of a boss / employee relationship could be re-established, the other devising fresh humiliations for his sex-victim. One of them had it wrong. Disastrously wrong.
THE END - unless it contiues in your mind!