Disclaimer:
I do not own Tarzan or related characters and am not making a profit from sharing this story here. The character was created by Edgar Rice Burroughs and is now in the public domain. Any similarity between the characters in this story and real people is entirely coincidental and incredibly hot.
I always appreciate your feedback and would love to hear your ideas. Please support Nifty with donations of any size to help them provide a platform for so many fascinating stories. Please use this link to donate: http://donate.nifty.org/.
Chapter 45: The Only Path-------------------------------- (c) tarzanstud1@gmail.com
The Baron stood in the center of his opulent study, the polished mahogany reflecting the warm glow of the firelight. His sharp eyes scanned the room, each piece of meticulously chosen decor a reflection of his refined tastes.
As he contemplated the encounters he had with the various men, he assessed their potential utility. His gaze first settled on Alden, the gossip columnist. Alden had proven himself to be a cunning observer, adept at extracting information from even the most guarded individuals. The Baron could envision his talents being put to use in the realm of espionage, gathering intelligence from the shadows.
Next, his attention turned to Mr. Blackwood, the club owner. The man exuded an air of authority and control, qualities the Baron could appreciate. He imagined Mr. Blackwood overseeing operations within his organization, ensuring that every detail ran smoothly and efficiently.
Then there was Hargrove, the overseer. Hargrove's demeanor exuded an aura of ruthless discipline. The Baron recognized the potential for Hargrove to instill fear and maintain order among the ranks. He could serve as a valuable enforcer, ensuring that the Baron's commands were carried out without question.
Lord Harrington, the refined gentleman, intrigued the Baron. His ability to navigate social circles with grace and charm suggested a talent for influence and manipulation. Lord Harrington could prove invaluable in gaining access to exclusive events and swaying influential figures to the Baron's cause.
As the Baron mentally cataloged each man's potential, he envisioned a carefully curated team, each member complementing the strengths and weaknesses of the others. Together, they would form a formidable force, capable of executing the Baron's plans with precision.
With a satisfied nod, the Baron began to envision the roles he would assign to each man, strategizing how their collective talents could be harnessed for maximum impact. The pieces were falling into place, and the Baron knew that with this team at his side, there was little that could stand in the way of his ambitions.
The Baron stood at the head of the room, an air of command surrounding him like an impenetrable aura. His piercing gaze bore into each man before him, demanding obedience, and none dared to meet his eyes for long.
"Gentlemen," he began, his voice low and resonant, "the Alpha Ascension approaches, and we have an opportunity to make a statement that will echo through history. Tarzan's fall will mark the rise of a new order, and we shall be the architects of that transformation."
He turned to Alden, his gaze cold and unyielding.
"Alden, you seem to have forgotten our arrangement. I require your unwavering respect and submission. Do not let me remind you of the consequences should you falter in your duties."
Alden's eyes flitted nervously, and he quickly lowered his gaze, muttering his acquiescence.
"Yes, Baron. I understand."
The Baron, dissatisfied, turned to Blackwood and Harrington, his tone slightly more measured, though no less authoritative.
"You two will be integral in this operation. Blackwood, your mastery of logistics will ensure that every detail is accounted for. Harrington, your influence will help secure the necessary resources and cover any potential missteps."
Both men nodded, acknowledging their roles. They knew better than to question the Baron's orders.
"Hargrove," the Baron continued, "you will oversee the physical conditioning of our prize. Tarzan's strength may be legendary, but even legends can be broken. It is your task to ensure he is humbled and prepared for his ultimate submission."
Hargrove met the Baron's gaze with a steely resolve.
"I understand, Baron. Tarzan will learn his place."
The Baron's eyes swept over the room once more, ensuring that his authority was unquestioned.
"Remember, gentlemen, there can be only one Alpha. Our success in this endeavor hinges on our unity and adherence to our roles. Let no one forget that."
The men nodded, each one keenly aware of the gravity of the situation. The Baron's presence loomed large, a force that brooked no dissent.
"Now," the Baron concluded, "let us set our plans in motion. The Alpha Ascension will be a triumph, and Tarzan will be the cornerstone of our victory."
Alden opened his mouth to echo the alpha's sentiments, but the Baron silenced him with a furious glance. The Baron's patience wore thin as Alden had yet to obey his earlier command. With a swift motion, he raised the crop and brought it down sharply, striking Alden's back with a resounding crack. The force sent Alden stumbling forward, collapsing to his knees.
"Down, Alden!" the Baron thundered, his voice like a whip crack. "You will address me from your rightful place."
Alden's face contorted in pain, and he quickly lowered himself to the ground, his head bowed low.
"Yes, Baron," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.
The other men watched in a mix of shock and amusement. Seeing their colleague brought to heel so forcefully was a stark reminder of the Baron's absolute authority.
Turning his attention to Hargrove, the Baron's gaze hardened.
"And you, Hargrove. There are protocols that even you must adhere to. Remember your place, or I shall remind you."
Hargrove's face reddened, and he quickly corrected himself.
"Yes, Sir. I understand, Sir."
Satisfied, the Baron then addressed Harrington and Blackwood, a devious glint in his eye.
"Gentlemen, it seems that even those of your stature have something to learn. A lesson in humility, perhaps."
With a swift motion, he gestured to Harrington.
"You, Harrington, will oversee the preparations in the eastern sector. I trust you will ensure nothing is overlooked."
Harrington nodded, a mixture of surprise and apprehension in his eyes.
"Of course, Baron. I shall see to it personally."
Turning to Blackwood, the Baron's tone took on a more insidious edge.
"And you, Blackwood, shall have the honor of handling the financial arrangements. I expect nothing short of perfection."
Blackwood's jaw clenched, but he held his tongue.
"Understood, Baron. I will ensure every detail is accounted for."
With his commands given, the Baron allowed a thin smile to play at his lips. He had asserted his dominance, leaving no room for dissent. The others were left to grapple with the reality of their roles, knowing that the Alpha Ascension would proceed according to the Baron's iron will.
The Baron's piercing gaze swept over the assembled men, his expression expectant.
"Gentlemen, I want to hear it from each of you. How do you envision Tarzan's fate at the culmination of the Alpha Ascension?"
Alden cleared his throat, still feeling the sting of the Baron's crop.
"Well, Baron, Sir, I imagine Tarzan bound, completely at the mercy of his superiors. He would be displayed, a symbol of his utter submission, stripped of any lingering trace of his former glory. Every aspect of his existence would be dictated by those who hold his leash."
The Baron nodded, acknowledging Alden's vision.
"Very well. Hargrove?"
The overseer didn't hesitate.
"I see Tarzan broken, a mere shadow of his former self, Sir. His once defiant spirit extinguished, replaced with unwavering obedience. He would serve without question, his every action a testament to his complete and utter surrender."
Harrington spoke next, his voice steady.
"In my vision, Tarzan's transformation would be complete. He would embrace his role as a submissive, no longer bound by the trappings of his former life. His purpose would be singular -- to fulfill the desires and commands of those who hold his fate in their hands."
Blackwood, always one to relish in the power dynamic, leaned in slightly.
"For me, Baron, Tarzan's journey would culminate in absolute dependency. He would rely entirely on his superiors for direction, his existence speaking to their dominance. His every breath, every heartbeat, would be a reminder of his subservience."
The Baron's gaze fixed on each man in turn, his satisfaction evident.
"Excellent, gentlemen. Your visions align with my own. Tarzan's ultimate fate will be a testament to his complete and unwavering submission. Remember, this event is not only about his humiliation, but also a celebration of our unyielding dominance. See to it that every detail is meticulously executed."
With their orders clear, each man was ready to depart, tasked with their respective roles in ensuring Tarzan's descent into absolute submission. The Baron's vision would be realized, leaving no doubt as to the outcome of the Alpha Ascension.
But first, the Baron took the men to the stable, where tarzan lay in a deep sleep, extremely vulnerable to suggestion. His hard labor and the slave chow with the sleeping element included in the recipe keeps him from waking up no matter how loud or rough they are with tarzan. The baron sizes up the slave sleeping in the hay, licking his lips at the thought of having his nemesis in his control.
The men gathered around Tarzan's slumbering form, their eyes fixed on the once-mighty jungle hero, now bound by the chains of submission. At the Baron's direction, they took turns issuing commands, each directive etching deeper into the depths of Tarzan's subconscious.
Alden's voice was firm but measured.
"Tarzan, you will wake with the knowledge that your purpose is to serve. Your every action, every thought, will be devoted to your superiors."
Hargrove's tone was authoritative.
"You will remember your place, Tarzan. You are nothing more than a vessel for our desires. Your existence revolves around our commands."
Harrington's words were deliberate.
"Submission is your only path, Tarzan. Embrace it fully, for resistance is futile. Your will is now inextricably linked to ours."
Blackwood's voice held an edge of cruel satisfaction.
"You will obey without question, Tarzan. Your defiance is a thing of the past. You exist solely to please and serve."
Finally, the Baron stepped forward, his presence exuding power and dominance. He leaned in close, his words a dark whisper.
"Tarzan, you will awaken to the truth of your existence. You are a slave, a plaything for your superiors. Your every breath belongs to us, your every heartbeat is a testament to our control."
As the commands reverberated in the stable, Tarzan's slumbering form stirred. Deep within the recesses of his subconscious, the directives took root, entwining with the very essence of his being. The Baron, with a triumphant glint in his eye, knew that their control over Tarzan was absolute.
The Baron's boot pressed firmly against the thin fabric of Tarzan's loincloth, moving it aside to reveal the hidden symbol of his submission--the leash and ring secured beneath. With a decisive tug, the Baron emphasized the commands that had been planted in Tarzan's subconscious while he slumbered. The chain jingled softly, a stark reminder of the control they now held over the once-mighty jungle hero.
The men watched, their gazes fixed on the scene, knowing that this simple act held great significance. Tarzan's body, now marked by the undeniable evidence of his servitude, was a symbol of their dominance. The Baron's actions spoke volumes, reinforcing the reality of Tarzan's new existence.
As the leash tightened, Tarzan's body responded instinctively, his muscles tensing in submission. The once-proud hero was now a puppet, moved at the whims of his superiors. The Baron, his expression one of cruel satisfaction, reveled in the display of power and control. This symbolic act was a prelude to what awaited Tarzan at the Alpha Ascension--a fate sealed by the hands of those who now held his leash.
The Baron's grip on the leash tightened further, exerting enough force to lift Tarzan off the ground. The sudden jolt jolted him awake, his eyes snapping open as he found himself suspended by the chain attached to his cock ring, all of his weight brutally tugging at his cock and balls.
Confusion and disorientation flashed across Tarzan's face as he scanned his surroundings. The sight of the Baron, flanked by the other men, sent a shiver down his spine, a stark reminder of his newfound vulnerability. He instinctively knew that he was no longer the dominant force he once was.
His gaze met the eyes of each man, taking in their smirks, their expectant expressions. It was clear that they held power over him now, a fact driven home by the way he hung, at their mercy, restrained by the chain that now defined his place in this new world.
The Baron's voice was cold and commanding.
"On your knees, Tarzan. Show your respect to your betters."
With a mixture of submission and understanding, Tarzan complied. He lowered himself, knees touching the ground, head bowed. It was a gesture of deference, a stark contrast to the proud hero he used to be.
The Baron released the leash, allowing Tarzan to settle onto the stable floor. The chain coiled around him, a physical manifestation of his servitude. The once-mighty jungle hero was now firmly under the control of his superiors, a fact driven home by this simple, but powerful, display of dominance.
Tarzan's dreams are filled with vivid and intense images of submission and obedience. In his slumber, the commands and dominance asserted over him by the Baron and the others play out in his subconscious mind. He envisions himself carrying out their orders with precision, his body responding instinctively to their every word and gesture. The dreamworld becomes a realm of absolute servitude, where Tarzan's once mighty form is now entirely subject to the will of his superiors.
In his dreams, Tarzan is acutely aware of the leash and ring beneath his loincloth, a constant reminder of the control they hold over him. Each tug on the leash is a potent directive, guiding him to fulfill their desires. He moves with a fluidity and grace that only comes from complete submission, his body demonstrating the mastery of his superiors.
As the dream unfolds, Tarzan finds a strange sense of comfort and purpose in his newfound role. The overwhelming power of his superiors washes over him, enveloping him in a cocoon of dominance. In this dream state, he embraces his servitude, finding a strange sense of fulfillment in his submission.
When he finally awakens, the remnants of the dream linger, leaving Tarzan with a peculiar mixture of emotions. He is both disoriented and strangely at ease, the vividness of the dream still fresh in his mind. It's as if, even in sleep, he cannot escape the profound influence of his superiors.
END OF CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE-------------------------------------
Thanks for the emails! I always appreciate hearing your reactions, including your constructive criticism. If you have any feedback or input, please contact me at tarzanstud1@gmail.com .