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THE XAVIER - PART NINE (This is the final installment - and it is weird.)
He awoke momentarily confused and a little frightened. I noticed with some pleasure that he looked to me for reassurance of his own safety. "What's happening .. to me?" He had wet himself. All that water. "I've done it," I said. "Done what?" "Implanted the device." "Device ...?" He clearly didn't remember our discussion. Well, he had been rather drowsy at the time. "You remember? How we agreed to implant the command device." "Command device ..." I laughed. "You don't remember anything at all do you?" "Any what?" "Ok. Don't worry. All you need to know is, everything's alright. I've successfully implanted a device so that you are always correct and never need to worry." I tapped his nose. "Oh?" "Look, here." I pressed the small stitch I'd put in to close the incision. He winced. "Ew ..." "That sore?" "A little ... but ... I ... feel fine about it." He didn't realise I had already switched the device on; at a very low power it was already keeping him calm. The dial wasn't bright and the readout said 1. "Look, I said, this is the control I use to make it high or low." He looked at the control app in my phone. "Ohh ... One ... sounds low," he said. "It is." "So what's high?" he said. I turned the dial, 2, 3, 4. "Ew ..." he said. "That feels ... wierd." "Bad or good?" "I ... I ..." 6, 8 ... "Ach no! Too much! Too. Much." I lowered the number again. 2. "Yeah. That feels right." "You can feel it?" I thought, if we're going to have it this low I might as well have not fitted it! "I can feel it! It's like a sick feeling, but good sick." "That's not the device," I said, "that just you reacting to the operation." "Is it? No. No I can definitely feel it." He wouldn't be acting like this if it was working, I thought. "Let's give it another go." "But, I can feel it. It's definitely working. Can't we just leave it?" "I need to know," I said. "What?" "What happens if I turn it on. Your system might be rejecting it, so I need to know." "Oh. Oh alright then I suppose. We can give it a go." It was wild the way he was trusting me. I couldn't tell if he understood what I had done. "You might need to adjust to accept to the strange feeling." "Isn't it automatic?" "I don't think so. What do you mean?" "Well doesn't it self-calibrate?" "I don't know," I said. Perhaps it does, I thought. "Look babes, the thing is this: I've got this thing in you now and I need to use it. I'm going to use it. You agreed -" "Agreed to what?" We were going in circles. "Look." I turned the dial to 8 again and on to 10. He started screaming and writhing, shouting at me to turn it off. "Fuuuckit's killing me! Make it stop!" I increased a little more, just to see. "Fuuuk fuu-uuck please Master I'm, Master, please Master I'm begging you to please make it stop! I can't ... fuuee-arh-hhkk!" I wasn't sure; I didn't intend him to suffer like this, though I was enjoying the torture and the way it made him wriggle and writhe, but frankly I didn't have much use for something that had him in continuous agony 24-7! I turned it down to 4 and he stopped screaming but still moaned, "Make it stop Master. Please Master." He was breathing heavily as though I had just given him a heavy whipping. His eyes were all teared up and his body was stiff with tension. He was sobbing and I pushed it up a bit to see if he was getting used to it. He wasn't, so I dropped it back to 1 and then to standby to let him get his breath back. The dial turned blue. "You've got to take it out, he said when he could speak. "You've got to completely remove it. I can't deal with it. I'm sorry. You'll need to find some other willing recipient. Better capable than me. Better able to withstand the ... discomfort." I noted the selfishness of his attitude. Whatever happened now, he was going to have to be punished for forgetting his respectfulness. "Discomfort," I muttered. I knew from the instructions that the device did not have types for whom it might work better than others. It was guaranteed to work. What was going wrong? "Look I've switched it off," I said. "That blue means standby." "What's that?" "It means it isn't doing anything." "Take it out!" he ordered. "Take it out right now!" I didn't like the attitude in the least. I thought quickly. "Look let's try this," I said, quickly zapping the control to 10 and then 15. This time he didn't have time to scream; his body went rigid like he was having a fit, his jaw shut tight and he breathed noisily through his nostrils, foaming slightly and staring straight ahead. I thought, He's going to die. I'm going to kill him. I even said, "Don't die on me!" - like it was an order, but he didn't react; he was in some kind of rictus. The dial was red. Then blinking red. Then blinking fast red. Red for danger, I assume. But that's when I noticed he was hardon like nobody's business, like I'd never seen him til then - his prick was rigidly poking forth with a super-filled purple head on a thick curved stem straining to escape its foreskin; the thing was actually rocking each time his heartbeat tried to force more blood into it and the precum was gurgling out, dripping down the shaft and soaking his pubic hair into a dark black foam. He obviously wasn't aware of it because he was in a kind of violent trance and spitting like an animal in a trap, shaking and his eyes were opening and closing like a mechanical doll. So, before I even had time to think I did something totally going against good sense. I had this overpowering urge to take the upper hand and game the situation to my own requirements (which is after all what I had intended originally, to remove his choices): I turned up the power to 30 in one go; he was fitting and foaming and shaking and completely out of it. His skin turned yellow and his lips drained of blood seemed almost green. It scared me but I went on. I guess I was excited. My own hardon was as enormous and fat as it had ever been in my life. I knew that if I could get him past this then he would be the fuck of my life and stay that way, day in day out, always the ideal sub I needed to complete my life - and he needed to be to complete his. So ... something convinced me to try the counterintuitive: I turned it up even higher, to 50! 51! Suddenly his body went limp in my arms like a skein of cloth!
He looked serene and beautiful. His erection started to subside, as if it didn't matter, and he opened his eyes and smiled. His skin had returned to a normal healthy colour. "Hey you," I said. He smiled. "Master," he said. "How do you feel?" "I feel great, Master, thank you Master!" he laughed. The dial was white, like a pure cool white you get from sun reflected off fresh snowfall. Wow, that was some turnaround. I put the phone aside, at 51.5, and left it. "What's it like?" I stroked his shining pink neck - it felt cool and hot at the same time. "Yes Master, I feel good, like thankful and ready now." "Huh, what does that even mean?" I said. "It means I feel grateful, somehow, like that's all I can describe; just grateful all over and thankful, and truly, truly, Master, ready, Master. Thank you Master. I'm ready." He face was glowing. So strange to see this puppy-dog radiance in a man! "Well, that's great, I said. Sounds like a success. Well done for that!" He hugged my neck and his face, scratchy with morning scruff, buried in my shoulder; he seemed to be kissing me randomly wherever his lips met my skin. "You like that?" "I like kissing you Master." "And what about the rest?" "Anything Master." I looked at the amazing man I held in my arms, marvelling that I possessed him. Every inch of his flesh was now mine to do with as I wished. I could use him as I liked and he would perform whatever tasks I assigned. I would never have to lift a finger if I didn't want and I would always have this luscious beast to satisfy me endlessly. "Good answer," I said. "The truth is that you are completely controlled now." "Yes Master. I can feel that. Thank you Master. I was right to trust you." "So, boi, tell me you name." He answered immediately, "I don't know Master. I'm sorry Master." "No problem," I smiled. "What if I told you it was Xavier?" "Xavier ... Master?" he repeated slowly, then shrugged. "Are you telling me that is my name Master?" "No," I said. "No. It doesn't matter." "My balls ache Master," he said. They were right up against his body in a bushy nest of dark pubes. "Master," he said, gently, "are you going to milk me dry?" I looked at him and thought of all the possibilities. "No," I said, "not yet."
T H E X A V I E R T H E E N D
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END OF THE XAVIER - PART NINE