The Watcher

The Watcher z119z Copyright by the author 2011

Market and Poplar streets meet at an acute angle. Because of that, the rear walls of the apartment building at 315 Poplar and of the commercial building at 102 Market angle toward each other at the point nearest the intersection. At the property line, the sides of the two buildings abut for twenty feet or so, creating odd, fan-shaped rooms at the adjoining ends of both buildings.

From the rear window of this room, which Jason used as his bedroom, he could stretch out an arm and touch the wall of the building that fronts on Market. The two buildings are no more than three feet apart at that point. The rear window of his living room faces a window in the other building. In fact the only thing he can see from his rear windows is the other building. The stairwell leading down to the parking lot behind his building juts out and blocks his view to the left. His view to the right is cut off by the party wall where the two buildings meet.

The other building houses several small shops on the ground floor catering to the mixed population of students and young professionals that inhabit the nearby apartments--a convenience store, a combination laundromat and cleaner's, a pizza and burger joint. The upper stories house the offices of a computer troubleshooting service, a rental agency, and an insurance broker's, among other small businesses, none of which look terribly busy or prosperous. During the time that Jason lived on Poplar Street, the rooms opposite his apartment were always empty. Jason never saw anyone in them. The office facing his living room contained only an old wooden desk, and the top of that was covered with dust.

Jason was never bothered by the proximity of the other building. There seemed no reason to be concerned about privacy. True, he had no view, but views were expensive and beyond the amount he wanted to spend on rent. His apartment was on the top floor and faced the top floor of the building on Market. Because of that, enough light, although never any direct sunlight, came into his apartment during the day. At night the other building blocked the light from the street. For that reason, he never closed the blinds. He welcomed the light during the day and the relative darkness at night, and he liked waking up as the dawn light came through his bedroom window.

It was only by chance that he noted the watcher. He had been sitting in front of the television in his living room but had grown bored by the program. He switched it off and then stepped into his bedroom to retrieve the novel he was reading from the nightstand by his bed. There was enough light coming in from the living room that he didn't need to turn on a light. The bedroom was getting cold, and he walked over to the rear window to close it. The lamp in his living room lit up the back wall of the building opposite. He automatically stopped and looked out.

It took him a few moments to realize what he was seeing. It was so unexpected that his mind didn't process it at first. He stood there with his fingertips resting on the lower sash, about to push it down. A man was standing in the window of the other building, apparently looking into Jason's living room. He was wearing dark clothing, but his face and hands were white in the light coming from Jason's apartment. He stood very still. Jason had the impression that he was a tall man, with a large build, but it was hard to separate his body from the shadows surrounding it. If Jason had looked out his living room window, he would not have seen the man because the windows reflected the light inside his apartment back at him. It was only from the dark bedroom that the man was visible.

Jason slowly moved back from the bedroom window. His heart was pounding loudly. He held his breath and moved stealthily, trying to avoid attracting the other man's attention. He crept into a dark corner where he could see the man. Jason felt violated. What reason other than a sexual thrill would a man have for spying on another man? As was his usual habit when alone in his apartment, Jason was wearing only his underwear. That night he had on a dark gray T-shirt and gray bikini briefs. He tried to remember what he had been doing. He had spent the past two hours sprawled in a chair watching television. The chair sat an angle to the window, but the watcher would have been able to see much of Jason's body. Jason had had no reason to be modest. At some point, he had probably pulled the T-shirt up and scratched his stomach or even pushed at his cock and balls to settle them more comfortably within the briefs. He certainly had sat with his legs apart or draped over the arms of the chair. He had gotten up during several of the commercial breaks, to walk into the kitchen to get a soda or into the bathroom to take a piss. God, could the man see into his bathroom? How long had he been parading around half-naked for this man to watch?

He didn't know what to do. He briefly thought about calling the police but rejected that option. He would end up looking ridiculous. The best thing, he decided, would be to put an end to the show. He edged open a drawer of his dresser and pulled out a pair of sweatpants. He eased them on, and then as casually as he could, he walked into his living room. He focused on acting naturally, pretending that he did not know he was being watched. He picked up the can of soda he had been drinking and carried it into the kitchen, where he poured the remainder into the sink and then rinsed the can out, crushed it, and put it into the recycling bin. He walked back into the living room and then yawned and stretched as if his muscles were stiff. He flipped off the light switch and then walked to the window to look out. He gazed upward, checking the weather in the small slice of visible sky, allowing his eyes to flick briefly over the window opposite. The man was no longer at the window.

Jason still felt the man's presence. He was certain that the man had simply stepped back into the room, beyond the area illuminated by the lamp in Jason's living room, and was continuing to observe him. What if the man had been watching him for some time, days or even weeks? If the man knew his habits and he were to close the blinds for the first time since moving into the apartment, the man would realize that Jason was on to him. Would it be a mistake to let him know that? How would he react? Would he do something worse than watching? Jason retreated to the armchair and sat down. He was out of the dim light coming through the window but could see out the window into the building behind. He sat very still and waited. He was sure that the other man could not see him in the dark.

After Jason had waited for what seemed like half an hour, the man reappeared at the window. He gazed directly toward Jason for a few minutes. Jason thought he was invisible in the dark, but he was filled with the irrational feeling that he was fully exposed to the man's gaze. The situation was ludicrous. He couldn't move without attracting the man's attention, and that was the last thing he wanted. He just wanted the man to go away. How long would anyone, even the most persistent voyeur, watch an empty window?

The man stood motionless at the window for several more minutes. Finally he crossed his arms, lifted his hands to the area of his chest, and began stroking his shirt. His thumbs moved in a circular motion. Jason was confused. What was the man doing? Then it suddenly came to him that the man was stroking his nipples. He was stimulating himself while mentally replaying the images of Jason he had been seeing all evening. Jason knew that this made the man feel good. He wouldn't be doing it otherwise. The man was a disgusting pervert.

Jason was used to other men looking at him. His body frequently drew admiring glances at the gym or when he was out jogging. Men sometimes made passes at him. In a way it was, Jason felt, a compliment to be admired. It pleased him to be noticed and wanted. Twice, when the other man had been as good looking as Jason knew himself to be, he had even accepted the invitation and had allowed the other man to kneel before him and blow him. It had been a harmless diversion and, he admitted to himself, enjoyable. As they had said on that Seinfeld episode, the members of the team knew how to handle the equipment better. But it hadn't led to anything further. Nor would it ever. That he was sure of. No way he would ever do anything more than let some queer give him a quick blow job.

This was different, however. He had found out about this only by accident. Who knew how long that pervert had been watching him and stroking himself? That man was using Jason, stealing his body, for his own pleasure.

As suddenly as it had started, it ended. The man moved away from the window. A few seconds later, the room brightened briefly and then darkened again. The man had, Jason guessed, opened the door into the hallway and then walked off. Jason waited a few minutes to make sure that man had truly left. Then he went into the bathroom. Contrary to his usual practice, he closed the door and pulled on it until the latch clicked into place. And he waited until he had closed the door before turning on the light. He took a long hot shower to wash away the stain of the encounter. When he had finished and toweled off, he put his T-shirt and sweatpants back on. Usually he slept in the nude, but tonight he wasn't taking any chances. He turned out the light before opening the door. He checked through his bedroom window to make sure the man was no longer there before getting into bed. He lay as far from the window as he could in his bed. He did not sleep well. He woke up several times during the night to look out the window to see if the man were watching him again.

The next night he worked late at the office, staying long after everyone else had left, and then dawdled over his meal at a café, drawing it out until the waitress inquired for the third time if he wanted anything else and pointedly nudged the check closer to his hand. When he got back to his apartment, he left the lights out. He removed his office clothes and changed into dark sweatpants and a dark sweatshirt. He felt like a prisoner in his own apartment. If the man came back, he would have to think about finding a new place. He again sat in the armchair in his living room staring out the window.

The man just seemed to materialize at the window. He must have been waiting further back in the room and moved forward only when he sensed movement in Jason's apartment. In the day since he had discovered that he was being watched, Jason had grown angry. He would be damned if he were going to move. There had to be some way to get rid of this creep.

The man's hands moved to his chest again, and his thumbs began to stroke his nipples again. The motion was oddly eye-catching, and Jason found himself focusing on the movement. His own nipples were sensitive, and he often did just what the man was doing to stimulate them, scratching them through the fabric of his shirt with the nails on his thumbs. If the man weren't watching, Jason might idly have been playing with his nipples in the same way. He often did at night when an attractive person showed up on the television screen. The thought occurred to him that the bastard had seen him playing with his nipples. Is that why he was doing this? Was he mocking Jason or trying to entice him into doing the same thing?

The motion of the man's fingers over his nipples made Jason's nipples itch. Almost without conscious thought, Jason's hands moved to his chest and he began touching his sweatshirt above the area of his nipples. The cloth was too thick, however, to provide a satisfactory sensation. It felt good, but not as good as it did when he wore only a T-shirt. Should he give the pervert a thrill? Would he still be as interested if he thought he was turning Jason on? What would happen if he knew that he, too, was being watched?

Jason pulled off the dark sweatshirt. In the dim light, he knew that his white T-shirt would suddenly appear, as if out of nowhere, to the man. He moved his hands to his chest and began stroking his nipples, following the movements of the man's hands and fingers. He copied every movement. His nipples stiffened and contracted into a taut ring. He felt the familiar tightening in his groin as the pleasure in his nipples spread outward through his body, and his penis stirred. It was surprisingly sexy to sit there and display himself, to taunt the other man with his body and his sexuality.

Jason stood up and moved to the window. The other man stared at him without acknowledging his presence. He continued to play with his nipples, and Jason continued to mimic him. He let the other man guide his movements. He grew aroused. He knew that his hardened cock was tenting his pants, but he didn't care. Let the other man look. Jason lost track of the time as he became more and more excited. He liked being watched. He liked the thought that he was arousing the watcher.

The other man disappeared suddenly, leaving Jason feeling abandoned. He rushed into the bathroom and quickly jerked off, letting the cum fall into the toilet. He left the door open. When he finished, he went to bed, turning on the light in his bedroom so that the man could see him if he was still there. He threw his clothes into the hamper and crawled naked into bed. He didn't pull the sheet and blanket over his body, but lay there reading for half an hour before turning off the lights.

The next night he arrived back earlier. It was still light out, and Jason found himself almost impatient for it to grow dark so that the man would return. He moved the armchair so that it faced the window directly. He lounged in it wearing only his underwear.

The man showed up almost as soon as it grew dark. He, too, had stripped to his underwear. His were white and showed clearly in the window. He began as he had the previous night, stroking his nipples until Jason joined him at the window. But then he started attacking them more vigorously, pulling at them and twisting them. Jason followed suit. He grew more and more excited and even began to moan. The man kept it up for about an hour and then, as he had on the previous occasions, abruptly left. Jason jerked off again before going to bed.

That set the pattern for the next several days. Each night the man appeared when it got dark. Each night he led Jason through an increasingly more explicit series of acts, arousing Jason and leaving him gasping for release when the man abandoned his post at the window. Each night the man involved him deeper and deeper. Each night Jason had fewer and fewer inhibitions. It was almost as if the man were teaching Jason how to enjoy his body more. It was, Jason thought, a course in sexual arousal, a private tutorial in stimulation. Within a week, he had reached the point where he did whatever the man did.

The night with the belt pushed him into a frenzy. When Jason arrived home, he saw a belt suspended by its buckle from the latch of the opposite window. The belt was about an inch and a half wide and made of black leather. Jason had one exactly like it. He retrieved it from his bedroom and hung it from the latch of his window. When the man appeared, he folded the belt in half to form a loose loop. He raised it to his mouth and began licking the leather. The polished side of the belt was smooth against Jason's tongue. The leather tasted dry and slightly acrid. The belt glistened where he had licked it, and the taste lingered in his mouth.

The man drew the belt slowly across his chest, stroking himself with the edge of the belt and then the width. Jason half-closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the feeling. It felt almost as if someone else were touching him. The man rubbed his nipples with the belt. It sent a tremor through Jason's body. The touch was so foreign and strange. The man began tapping his left nipple, lightly at first and then harder and harder. Jason could hear the sound of the belt striking the man's chest through the closed windows. He hoped the man could hear him striking his own nipple. Over and over he hit the same spot. My skin, he thought, must be red by now. At first the belt sent only a quick sting through his chest that faded almost immediately, but as the strokes grew stronger, Jason's nipples began to throb. Jason's mind buzzed . It was like being drunk. He knew he should stop, but he didn't want to. With each stroke, he felt better and better, more and more aroused. His chest began to ache with hunger for the next blow.

The man stroked the inside of his thighs with his belt. Jason hoped that he would begin to strike them. That would feel so good. The blows began just above his left knee. Each succeeding blow was a bit higher and a bit stronger. Jason had to bend his left leg and prop his toes on the window sill so that he could hit the inside of his thigh. He nearly came from the shock of the final blow between his legs. His balls retreated into his body. They ached with the fury of the blast.

The man pushed his shorts down and looped the belt tightly around his stiff erect cock. He pulled on it to make his cock swing back and forth. Jason copied his motions. Back and forth, and then up and down, his cock was like a marionette controlled by the leather belt. He made only four vertical strokes up and down his cock before he came. The man disappeared into the shadows.

Jason arrived home the next evening to find the room in the other building dimly illuminated. There appeared to be a low-wattage light placed below the sill of the window. Oddly, it made the recesses of the room even darker. Jason turned on the desk lamp next to his computer. He considered the pattern of light this created and then twisted the lamp about so that the bulb faced away from the window. It was still unsatisfactory--the windows reflected too much of the light, and that made it difficult to see into the other room. And when he stood at the window, the light would be behind him and the front of his body would be in shadow. He unplugged the lamp. He found a forty-watt bulb in a cupboard and substituted that for the stronger bulb in the light. He set the lamp on a low table and plugged it into a wall socket near the window. That was much better. His front would be illuminated with a diffuse light. He stripped to his underwear and sat in the chair waiting for the man to appear. He found himself excited by the prospect and curious about the change in lighting. What did the man have planned for them tonight?

The man approached the window from the back of the room. As Jason had guessed, he was tall and well built. His head was covered with what appeared to be a flesh-colored hood made of some thin fabric. His facial features were suggested rather than revealed, more like the generally human-shaped head given a mannequin or a robot. Jason wondered if the man wanted him to cover his head too. But then he decided it was too late to do that. The man had already seen his face. There was no point in disguising himself.

The man began as usual by playing with his nipples. Jason copied him. He had grown to like the feeling of following the man's example. It was kinky, and fun, Jason decided, to let the other man lead him and to do what the man did. Tonight, with the lights on, it was easier to see what to do. The man was nicely built. His pecs stretched the fabric of his T-shirt, and his biceps swelled as he played with himself, pulling and pinching his nipples and stroking his stomach. Jason began to zone out. Lately in these games with the man, he had found himself dimming. That was the only word he could think that described the feeling. It was as if he were less conscious of deciding what to do and becoming almost an automaton following the actions of the man's hands. Jason felt so good that he began to drift, becoming almost a perfect mirror of the other man. His hands were becoming the man's hands and the man was touching Jason's body instead of his own.

The man slowly moved his right hand down his body to his crotch. With his fingers, he traced the outline of his cock. Over and over he demonstrated its length and girth to Jason. Jason's right hand followed suit. It felt so good to touch his cock. It felt so good to have the man stroke it and play with it. The man reached inside the opening of his briefs and liberated his cock. Jason was wearing bikini briefs. He pushed them down and kicked them off, out of the way, letting his swollen cock sway before his groin. It was tilted up at a slight angle.

The man lifted his right hand to his mouth and wet his fingers with his saliva. Without thinking about it, Jason did the same. Both men lowered their hands to their cocks and began stroking them. The man's hand moved so slowly up and down his cock, playing with it. He teased the head. He stroked up and down the entire length. He used his fingertips on it. He clutched in the palm of his hand. Jason copied his every action. With each stroke, he felt more and more than it was the man's hand on his cock. The sensation of holding his own cock in his own hand dimmed. More and more, it was the man who was stroking his cock, getting him more and more aroused. He was so skilled, teasing Jason with sensation until he felt nothing but the hand on his cock, felt nothing but the warmth and the pressure of the man's hand, felt nothing but a desire to surrender to the pleasure engulfing him.

The hand moved faster and faster. Jason rocked back and forth on his feet, his legs hard columns of tensed muscle, his butt cheeks squeezed tight, his chest arching back, and his cock thrusting forward. The man opposite him stood very still, his only motion the stroking of his cock. Jason felt a wave of pressure emanating from the man. It crossed the space between them and overwhelmed his mind and body with heat. It felt as if his groin exploded, driving the cum from his body in gigantic spurts. Once, twice, a jet of cum sprayed against the window. And then, more weakly, a third and fourth time. The blotches of cum began to ooze and flow down the glass, thick, white rivulets of cum.

The man lowered his hand and touched the window in front of him. Jason did the same. The cum was sticky and hot on his fingertips. The man raised his hand to his mouth. Jason did the same. He licked the cum from his fingers and then reached back to scoop up more and carry it to his mouth. He rubbed it across his lips and then licked them. He stuck his fingers deep into his mouth and sucked on them, repeating the action over and over until he had eaten most of his cum.

Jason closed his eyes and moaned. When he opened them, the man was gone and the room opposite was dark.

The first package was waiting for him on the shelf in the lobby when he arrived at his apartment building the next night. The label on the small box indicated that it had been sent from MC Products in Los Angeles. Jason hadn't ordered anything, certainly nothing from MC Products, whatever that was. The box weighed no more than a few ounces, and nothing rattled when Jason shook it. It was a mystery. The only other mystery in his life was the man in the window. He decided that they must be connected. The man must have ordered something and had it shipped to Jason. The date on the stamp from the postage meter indicated that the package had been sent four days earlier. Allowing at least a day for the shipper to process an order, that meant that the order had been placed no later than the previous Thursday, only two weeks after he had first seen the man.

He's very confident, thought Jason. He couldn't know that I would keep on playing this game, that I would turn out to be such an exhibitionist. Jason didn't know whether to be annoyed at the man's presumption or curious about what he had planned next for Jason. He was both, he decided. Perhaps he should just go out for the evening. Let the man wait for a day, maybe for longer. He tossed the package on the kitchen counter and went into his bedroom to change into casual clothes. Maybe he would give Evan a call and see if he wanted to go out for pizza and a few beers later. He got a soda from the refrigerator and turned the television on to catch the evening news.

Jason's resolve to ignore the package lasted until the first commercial. He used one of his kitchen knives to slit the packing tape. The contents were enclosed in a coil of bubble wrap. Inside were two metal alligator clamps. Jason knew what they were. He had seen pictures of nipple clamps. He had even tried clothespins on his nipples once to see what it felt like and quickly abandoned the experiment after the first surge of pain. Jesus, that had hurt.

Jason picked the clamps up. They had red plastic grips and black plastic guards covering the teeth on the working ends. Jason pinched them open. It took more effort than he expected--the spring in the clamps was strong. When he released the clamps, they closed with almost an audible snap. Any nipple between those jaws would be flattened. And this was with the guards on. Jason eased one off and examined the teeth. Christ, he thought, how could anybody put those on himself or allow someone else to do so? They looked lethal. Those teeth would tear into the flesh. He hurriedly put the guard back on. He didn't even like to look at those glittering teeth. There was no way he was going to use these on himself. If the man thought he would clamp his nipples with these, he was crazy.

Jason carried the clamps into the bathroom and stood before the mirror. He held the clamps up about an inch away from the puckers in his T-shirt where his stiff nipples stretched the cloth. He opened and closed them slowly. There was a certain fascination to them, he thought. He brought them closer and rubbed his nipples with the closed clamps. The familiar sensation of pleasure he got from touching his nipples rose from deep within his pecs to the surface. God, he loved that feeling. He would do at least that for the man tonight--use the clips to stimulate his nipples. He pressed the clamps open and held them over his nipples. If he positioned them carefully, it would look as if he were clamping his nipples, especially in the dim light and from a few feet away. He could do that. He cautiously closed the clamps until they began to press on his nipples. A small charge of pleasure swept through his chest. Jason quickly opened the clamps and then closed them again, a little bit further than before. This time his cock stirred. He put the clamps down--he didn't want to get too excited before tonight's game.

The man was wearing the hood again. For the first time, however, he was naked. As Jason had guessed, he was well built. What he hadn't expected was the line of dark hair down the center of the man's chest and across his abdomen to the triangle at his groin. It looked like an arrow pointing toward his cock. The cock was hard to see in the dim lighting, but it hung straight down--for a good five-six inches, Jason thought. The man's balls hung even lower.

Jason stripped off his underwear and stood before the window. He held up the nipple clamps to show the man that he had received them. He felt ready for anything. His cock rolled slightly to the left as it stirred in anticipation.

In each hand, the man held a clamp identical to the ones Jason was holding. He lifted them up in front of his chest and pointed the business end of the clamps up so that it caught the light. Jason felt his hands rising to chest level. Then the man began slowly opening and closing the clamps over and over. His fingers looked so strong, so sure, so in control.

Without conscious thought, Jason began mimicking the man's actions, slowly opening and closing them. He couldn't take his eyes off the clamps the man was holding. He couldn't stop watching. He couldn't stop opening and closing the clamps. He couldn't stop bringing them closer and closer to his nipples. Over and over the man led Jason through the same actions until Jason's mind dimmed. Jason felt the man's will cross the space between them and take control of his hands and fingers. Opening and closing. Over and over. Mindless repetition. Closer and closer.

The first touch of the clamps against his nipples made Jason moan. The second made him want more. But the man kept teasing him, barely closing the clamps over Jason's nipples before opening them again. Jason had never been so intensely aware of his nipples before. He felt his mind focusing on them, relishing each sensation. "Please," he heard someone moan. "More please."

The man let the clamps close a bit more. He let them linger on Jason's nipples. Each time the wonderful sensation in Jason's body was a bit more intense, each time it lasted a bit longer. Jason's cock grew harder and harder. Each time the clamps bit into his nipple, there was a surge of pleasure through his cock. Jason surrendered his mind and his body to the pleasure.

The man let the clamps shut completely and drew his hands away so that the clamps dangled from Jason's nipples. The pain, the pleasure, was exquisite. It was hard to distinguish them. One bled into the other and made the sensations even more intense. The cum shot out of Jason's cock and splattered against the glass of the window. Jason's legs gave way and he fell to his knees. The cum covered the glass in front of his eyes. He leaned forward and licked it up with his tongue, pressing his face against the window and smearing the cum over his lips.

Each night for the next week, the man repeated the lesson, taking Jason further each night. He left the clamps on for a long time, and Jason discovered the shock of pain that came when they were removed. He clamped the nipples at the very tip, he clamped them at the base, letting Jason experience the different types of pain this caused. He twisted them. He pulled at them. Over and over the man manipulated Jason's hands until Jason's mind grew numb and his fingers automatically followed the man's example, his mind conscious of nothing but the confusion of pleasure and pain.

Jason's nipples grew swollen and red. The touch of his shirt against them became painful, but Jason loved it. The pain was a constant reminder of the pleasures the man allowed him. He wanted more and more. He refused invitations from friends. He didn't answer his phone and didn't read his email. His television sat unwatched. He rushed home from work, impatient for the dark and the reappearance each evening of the man in the window opposite him and the beginning of that night's lesson.

On the seventh night, when the man appeared, he held up the clamps so that Jason could see them clearly. Then he pulled off the black plastic guards, exposing the teeth. Jason almost wept in gratitude. The first bite of the teeth cut deeply into his nipples, sending a bolt of lightning throughout his body. Over and over his body was cut into shards by the pain-pleasure emanating from his nipples. When he came, he passed out. He awoke several minutes later on the floor of his living room. The return of consciousness centered around his nipples. They throbbed with pleasure. The clamps were still attached. Pain stabbed through his nipples when Jason touched the clamps. He eased the clamps open to take them off and nearly came again from the maelstrom surging through his body. In the weak light coming through the window, Jason could see the cum that he had sprayed over the window. It had started to dry, and he licked at it until he had cleaned the window.

The next morning he discovered scabs of blood on his nipples. He hated the necessity of covering them with his shirt when he went to work. He wanted to display them to others to share with them the beauty of his experiences with the man.

The second package was waiting when he arrived home that night. Again it had been sent from MC Products in Los Angeles. Jason rushed upstairs and slit the package open. Inside were a bottle labeled MC Lube and a dildo. The dildo was formed of a flesh-colored plastic that felt almost lifelike. It was hard but rubbery and pliant. The dildo was realistic and Jason wondered if it had been modeled from life. There was a curved ridge along the bottom, and large veins snaked upward from the base across the surface. One could imagine the blood pulsing in them. The dildo was seven inches long and an inch and a half across at the widest point. It felt warm to the touch.

Jason held it in his hands. It felt natural. He had never been fucked before, never had anything up his ass larger than a doctor's finger for a rectal exam. He had never wanted to be fucked before. But now, he wanted it. As he held the dildo, his ass felt empty. It needed to be filled. It needed to be filled with this dildo. Jason glanced out the window impatiently. Why was it still light? It should be night so that the man would come. How could he wait for another two hours?

Included with the package was a small sheet of paper with "www.mcproducts.com," "User account: Jason Tyler," and "Password: The Watcher" typed on it. Glad of something to do until it became dark, Jason switched on his computer and pulled the MC Products site up. The entrance page displayed only the name of the company and two boxes, one labeled "User Account" and the other "Password." Jason typed in his name and the password. A second later a new page opened. A menu at the side listed product categories in alphabetical order. Jason could think of only one thing at the moment. He clicked on "Dildos." The range of products astounded him. The dildos came in all sizes, shapes, colors. There were close to a hundred varieties. Each of the other categories held a similarly dizzying variety of toys. Jason found himself wanting to try all of them.

Despite his fascination with the MC Products site, Jason kept an eye on the clock. When the sky began to darken, he removed his clothes and took up his position before the window. He placed the dildo and the lube on the window sill.

The man arrived as soon as it was dark. He held up a bottle of lube and pointed to the label on the back. Jason picked up the lube and found that the back label contained instructions on using the product. They advised liberal applications of the product. He opened the bottle and squeezed a large dollop of the gel on his fingertips. It was cold at first, but warmed quickly in contact with his flesh. He half-turned so that the man could see him more clearly and leaned forward at the waist. He reached under his balls and touched his fingertips to his anus. The lube was so smooth. It seemed to glide on without resistance. Jason touched all parts of his hole. It felt so good. He had never realized how good touching his anus would make him feel.

He put more lube on his fingers and reached down to apply more. His index finger found its way into his rectum. He hadn't thought about inserting it. It just seemed to move by itself. He pushed his finger in and out. It felt so odd, so good, so wonderful. The anal ring held Jason's finger and pulled it in and then pushed it out, relaxing as the finger pushed back in and then contracting as it withdrew. Jason's middle finger joined his index finger, lubing his rectum as far in as he could reach.

The man's cock was hard and erect. In the dim light, it looked almost like the dildo. It could have been the model for it. The dildo stood on the window ledge in front of Jason. He leaned over further and licked it. He kept his eyes on the man's cock. He had never sucked cock before but it felt good on his tongue. He closed his lips around the head of the dildo. Desire swelled within Jason. His mouth, his ass, ached for the man's cock. The man's hand slid slowly down his cock. The dildo slid into Jason's mouth as his fingers continued to fuck his ass. The man's hand moved faster and faster. Jason sucked the dildo faster and faster. The man's hand gripped his cock tightly. He thrust it forward harder and harder.

With a roar, Jason grabbed the dildo and shoved it into his ass, filling it, tearing at it, forcing it open. Only the flange at the base prevented it from being swallowed into Jason's body. Again and again, the man thrust his cock toward Jason. Jason matched every movement with the dildo. Harder and harder thrusts pounding into him.

Jason's mind dimmed. Mindless pounding. His ass muscles quivering with the attack. Gasps exploding from his mouth each time the man rammed him. The man fucked him harder. That was all that mattered. The man's cock up his ass fucking him. An hour. Two hours. There was nothing left of Jason at the end. He felt liberated and enslaved at the same time. He was free of all restraints now, free to devote himself to the man.

The next evening Jason found a small manila envelope pushed under the door of his apartment. There was no address label. He tore it open. The bag contained only a shiny key and a note. "Rear door beneath your window. 2:00 am tonight. Room 420."

Just before 2:00 am, Jason pulled on baggy nylon shorts and slid his feet into a pair of tennis shoes. The cloth draped itself between his buttocks and around his semi-erect cock. It felt cool and smooth against his skin. He didn't think he would meet anyone, but he didn't want to have to explain why he was naked. If someone saw him, he was minimally covered and he could say he was getting something from his car. He walked down the back staircase to the rear parking lot. He tried to make as little noise as possible. He opened the door to the parking lot carefully, and from the outside he inserted his key into the lock, turning it and easing the door closed before releasing the latch and pulling his key out. He stepped into the narrow space between the two buildings.

Directly beneath his window was a set of concrete stairs leading down into the basement of the building behind his. He used the key from the Jiffy bag to open the door at the bottom of the stairs. It swung opened silently. Someone had apparently oiled the hinges recently and used a lubricant on the lock. Jason closed the door and waited a moment until his eyes adjusted to the dark. He was in a passageway. A faint light outlined an open doorway about twenty feet ahead of him. He walked toward it cautiously. The only sound was the faint noise of the soles of his shoes scuffing the grit on the concrete floor.

Inside the doorway a staircase led up into the building. A small security light illuminated each flight of stairs. He walked up to the fourth floor and stepped into the corridor that ran down the center of the floor. None of the rooms appeared used. Room 420 was at the other end of the hall. It alone of all the doors had a company name painted on the opaque glass of the doorway. MC Products.

Jason tried the doorknob. It turned within his hand, and the door opened. He stepped into what was apparently the outer office. Narrow bands of light came through the slats of the closed blind and provided enough illumination for Jason to identify the objects in the room. A desk held a computer, a desk calendar, and a glass jar with pencils and pens. A small sofa had been placed under the window. The table in front of the sofa was empty save for one object.

Jason took off his shoes and removed his shorts. He placed them neatly on the floor beside the sofa. He knelt down beside the table and picked up the object. It was a strip of leather. It was hard to tell in the light but it appeared to be black. It was about eighteen inches long and an inch wide. There was a buckle at one end. The other end was punctured with several holes, each about an half-inch apart.

Jason fastened the collar around his neck, pulling it snug against his skin. He didn't consciously decide to do so. It was just the right thing to do. The collar felt warm around his neck. He felt secure. He bent the upper half of his body forward and knelt on all fours, with his rear end to the door leading to the corridor. Again, he knew that it was the right thing to do.

The door behind him opened, and footsteps approached. The collar was held briefly and there was the snap of a leash being attached. The man tugged at the leash. He opened the door to the inner office and led Jason into it. After the man closed the door, he snapped on the overhead light. The window in the room had been covered with heavy black canvas. The walls of the room displayed a sampling of MC Products. Handcuffs, masks, hoods, clamps, cuffs, metal bars, dildos, whips, paddles, chastity cages--hundreds of items. Jason could only guess at the uses of some of them, but he look forward to becoming familiar, intimately familiar, with all of them.

The man reached down and began to stroke the back of Jason's head with the palm of his left hand. His fingers trailed through Jason's hair. His touch was gentle but very firm. He massaged the back of Jason's neck with his fingers. Jason decided that he liked being petted. This is how a dog must feel when its master pets him, he thought.

"Do you like my toys?" asked the man. His voice was deep and resonant, quiet yet powerful.

"Yes," whispered Jason.

"You will become one of my toys. Soon. Very soon. You will like that."

"Yes, Master," whispered Jason.

"Good. Good boy."

A sudden flush of pleasure and well-being made Jason feel wonderful. He wanted to be a good boy. He liked it when Master told him that he was a good boy. He would feel awful if he ever disappointed Master and Master had to call him a bad boy. That would make him feel terrible.

The man stepped in front of Jason. He unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. Jason opened his mouth and began licking Master's cock. It smelled wonderful. His mind grew dim. He took Master's cock deep into his throat and began sucking on it as Master continued petting his newest toy.