published June 5, 2018
Yet another of many regular days on the new life a regular boy found himself experiencing. This time, we’re introduced to what happens when his master isn’t home, and our poor helpless boy is all alone, with no one to take care of him. Or is it?
The boy opened his mouth. As soon as his lips parted, however, his poor, befuddled mind quickly forgot what they had opened for. To yawn, following his sleepy, almost completely exhausted eye closing for a moment, having been staring at that endless display of hypnotic colours for uncountable hours? To groan, following his squirming as his muscles ached, his body tired by the pressure that the ropes that bound his arms behind his back, crossed as they were, forcing his legs to straddle the bench, as his ankles were tied close together? Or to moan, as the device that was connected to his hard, leaking member, had been expertly pumping, squeezing and torturing it in timed, expert, rhythmic pulses, making sure it stayed on the peak of its need to release for as long as it kept working on it?
“Relax…” a faint whisper would sometimes echo in the back of the room, or so it would appear for the boy, who was blissfully unaware of the headphones covering his ears, sealing his hearing from the outside world. Today’s date and time were an absolutely mystery, as for him the ability to even feel if it was day or night had long disappeared, taken from him just like many other aspects of his identity. He was alone, locked in a place he hadn’t the slightest clue where it was located. Had he even been moved to a different country?
However, his erotic torture was not a lonely activity.
A video camera kept him company, televising his squirms, groans and leaks, for whenever his master would want to check on him. After all, such a precious helpless boy had to be kept under constant watch. Who knew what someone less benevolent than him could do with the boy. The app he used on his phone to catch up on the boy, a personal project of his, allowed him to do more than watch, however, giving him total control of the room.
Just one tap, and he could increase the pressure on the boy’s cock, draining him with a much more ruthless force, making him beg and plead to the best of his ability, although in his current state, he lacked the linguistic ability to conjure a full, coherent sentence, barely able to utter more than pleading verbs. The way those beautiful eyes would widen, tearing up as the orgasm kept creeping up inside him, building up and up, ready to release and erupt, like a volcano of accumulated pleasure and bliss, only to be cruelly denied, it was the most delicious of spectacles the man could watch.
Another tap, and the bench would be rocking the boy, back and forth. His muscles would be so tired and sore, drained of any strength after being tied up for so long, that the boy would sometimes be able to feel as if his own body was a foreign land, his soul almost escaping it with each swing of the bench.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Back. And. Forth.
Helplessly swinging, just like his mind had been in his early days of submission. The man’s thesis behind it had been a simple one. Instead of going for total control right from the get-go, he’d keep bringing the boy back and forth from his trance, stretching his mind, manipulating and moulding it to his desires like clay or putty. And it had worked wonderfully. Long ago were the days where the boy could be in control of his wits for even mere minutes. Now, this total lack of awareness was what the boy considered his default state of mind.
Yet another tap and the display that was virtually glued to the boy’s eyes, attached by a strap around his forehead would change and regulate the intensity of the pulsing colours. Sometimes, when the boy was more lucid, a rare occasion on its own, instead of a colourful dance, the boy would be treated to a show starring no other than himself, forced to see what he would do on the moments where he was fully entranced, a vessel to the man’s whims. Other times, the words he’d hear would resurface on the screen.
Just like now. O-B-E-Y in big, fat white letters, that would sometimes pulse with the colours at the same time.
The man tapped the screen, and the words the boy was hearing were suddenly cut off. They would just occasionally show up on the screen now, and the boy would subconsciously repeat them, though he was unable to hear his own voice. The headphones isolated any and all sound, making him be only able to feel the vibrations as the words travelled up his vocal chords, escaping his supple lips. Eventually, even those words abandoned the boy’s sight, leaving him alone, isolated in darkness, but in the company of the apparatus that had been expertly teasing his member without any quarrel.
Back and forth, the bench kept rocking, keeping him nice and steady in his entrapped position.
The man chuckled. He was fully in control of the boy’s basic senses. He could only see what he wanted to show, hear what he wanted to speak, and feel the mechanical torturer of his cock. It was time to dominate yet another sense of his.
The boy’s nostrils caught hold of the aphrodisiac that the man had activated with his app, two fans working hard to make sure it filled the room, surrounding the boy with the addictive, arousing scent. It made a shiver run though his back, a moan escape his lips, and goose bumps cover his sweat-slicked, succulent skin, bruised with love bites all over his neck and shoulders, the man’s teeth having autographed it, leaving the proofs of who owned that body if there were any doubts. The arousing capabilities of the smell, however, were not only product of the aphrodisiac. The middle of the three fans had also been powered on, pumping forward a strong musk, its source hidden, but easily identifiable by the gasp that escaped the boy’s lips, before his mouth produced an adorable combination of a shriek, a moan, and a gasp, the corner of his lips lined with drool.
It was his master’s scent. A dominant, potent, undeniable musk that the boy had learned to recognize, to worship and, essentially, to crave like an addicting drug. To say it drove him mad and wild, down to a feral state, was putting it very lightly. Sniff.
And it was also putting it lightly to say that the way the man had reacted happily to it. No, it was an enormous grin, of one who had beamed with pride at the boy’s writhing and moaning. His own member throbbed in its confines, aching with desperation to be released. If he could, the man would have joined the boy right there and then without second hesitation.
Those feelings that had filled him up were the main reason behind the man’s sudden decision to tap a few more times on his phone’s screen. He could not be so easily tempted by his helpless captive. It wasn’t right. After all, he was the one in control! After a few adjustments on his phone, the man’s next move was prepared, and his grin widened in anticipation.
The boy’s heart skipped a beat as he felt it, air escaping his lungs with the strength of his gasp.
The whispers had resumed.
Somehow, the device around his cock had doubled its merciless, torturous actions.
The colours on the display had come back, assaulting his vision and mind.
The fans were pumping faster, the scent somehow becoming so intense that it not only invaded his lungs, but also made his mouth water.
His tongue rolled down his open lips. He could taste it.
He had begun to hear a word faintly again, almost undecipherable, having taken a while to recognize the word. It was undeniable who that voice belonged to, however. A dominant voice that was music to his ears by now.
The bench stopped rocking.
He was ready.
“Release…” the boy uttered between tortured moans. He sniffed loudly. His own scent was easily overpowered just by the remainder of the man’s heavy one, yet another proof of how powerless he was in comparison to his owner. His god.
“Yes!” he moaned in exclamation, panting heavily, almost breathless.
It was time.
He flexed and clenched his buttocks.
His back arched.
His head fell back, his eyes still being fed colours, for the display would never leave him even if he wanted it to.
“Yes!” he moaned wildly again.
The dams were ready to burst open.
But nothing happened
His mouth was still opened in a perfect ‘O’, but it was now one of momentary pain. Even as he squirmed against the rope that bound him, nothing had happened.
“Release?” he asked dumbly, but the gasp that escaped his lips made him realize that he had been hearing it wrong the whole time.
The voice now sounded clearer than ever. The suggestion had been there all the time for his subconscious mind, but only now was his consciousness able to understand it. Tears fell from his eyes as he groaned in disappointment, beginning to thrash in his boundaries.
However, the man only chuckled. There it was. That moment of lucidity. Of futile resistance. It was time for the games to end.
A final tap of his phone turned the fans off, the bench beginning to rock once more.
Back and forth.
“Ssssleep…” the man’s husky voice almost hissed, the colours slowing down, but still forcing the boy to watch helplessly.
“N-No…” the boy pleaded weakly. “Release…” he begged and complained in an almost childish way. The man could swear he had even pouted.
“Yes…” the man’s voice spoke to his mind once more. “Come on… please go to sssleep…” he repeated, in an almost singsong tone, but with more intensity. He was nothing but patient, however, preserving through the boy’s feeble attempt at resisting, but he ended up coming around. He always did. As the boy’s eyes slowly closed and a last sigh escaped his lips before sleep took over him like a warm blanket, the man smiled warmly, setting down his phone.
“Can’t wait till I get home…” he said to himself, licking his lips.
He’d have the most delicious of games to play with his prey.