Fate or Coincidence? - Chapter 5

By BadColinBaxter
published November 19, 2012
2262 words
Summary

Naive jocj, Tyler, witnesses something that shocks him to the core.

Once again if you would like to see Tyler’s Tumblr, here’s the URL - http://socalsucker.tumblr.com/ He will be uploading both pictures of himself, and others that feature in his story as it progresses. Thanks For all the feedback. I really appreciate all your kind words.

CHAPTER 5:

Tuesday came and went in a summer haze, and Wednesday eased from a broiling hot afternoon, where the only thing to do was cool off in the ocean, into a beautiful, balmy evening. Tyler had made his way to the Club for his daily workout. He was currently on his back on a weight bench, sweating his way through a set of chest presses. His speedo clad thighs straddled the padded cushion of the bench.

He had felt the predominantly male occupants of the weight room checking him out as he ran through his “Chest Day” exercises and as a result his slightly swollen boyhood stretched out the fabric of the “Mustangs” racing suit, lying off toward his left hip. He had his iPod Nano clipped into the waist of the speedo, with the earphone cable trailing up his long, lithe, and sweat slicked torso, listening to Hoodie Alan’s “Feel the Love”. He didn’t hear someone come up to stand by his head, only noticing the presence when a shadow fell across his eyes. Tyler strained to raise the bar back into the rack above him and took the earphones out, seeing one of the staff members, a handsome, pale skinned, twenty-something redhead, dressed in the white polo shirt, and black shorts of the clubs uniform.

“Need someone to spot you there, stud?” Tyler thought the guy’s name was Connor.

“Uhm… No… Thanks man, but I’m pretty much done.”

“Well it’s an open offer, next time you’re here.” Possibly-Connor replied, winking.

“Sure, err, thanks. Maybe next time.”

The redhead seemed momentarily mesmerized by a bead of sweat, as it tracked its way between Tyler’s pecs, and on down through the valleys and ridges of his abs. His tongue darted out and licked at his upper lip.

“Oh! Mr. Stalker wanted to see you in his office.” The guy shook himself out of his trance. “You know the way, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I do. Thanks, err, Connor right?” Tyler ventured.

“That’s right, and you are the man of the moment, Tyler Rearden. The Clubs new Banner Boy, right.”

Tyler shrugged bashfully. “Um, yeah I guess so.”

“Well, good to meet you Tyler Rearden. Best not keep our Lord and Master waiting.” Connor chuckled.

“Right, thanks. Maybe see you next time.” Tyler mumbled, flustered by the lord and master quip.

Walking through the atrium of the Health Club, in just his speedo, with a towel over one shoulder, Tyler didn’t feel remotely self-conscious anymore. He loved the admiring glances, and the occasional pat on the butt, that he got from the patrons, mostly fully clothed in street-wear, as they came and left. Although it made him feel like a piece of meat on display, he kind of enjoyed the feeling. Tyler reveled in the attention, despite the effect it had on his rapidly plumping tool.

He reached the door to Stalker’s office and knocked tentatively, but it was already slightly ajar, and swung inwards a little more.

“Um, Mr. Stalker? Sir?” Tyler called softly, knocking again.

The familiar, well-appointed office was empty. Nobody sat in the black leather chair behind the glass topped desk. The lighting was turned down low, and through the wall of smoked glass, which looked out on the pool, sundeck, and the ocean beyond, obscured on his previous visit by vertical blinds, Tyler could make out the last colorings of sunset, fading in the far west. Tyler noted that the door to the “Training Room” beyond stood open, showing a rectangle of brighter illumination in the wall behind the desk. The section of wall which served as the door blocked his view into the room from where he stood. A shiver ran down his spine, and his cock gave a lurch as he remembered the events which had transpired in that room just a week ago. He had been forced to endure a punishment for cumming, twice, without permission. It had been horribly degrading, but confusingly, he had woken several times from a deep sleep with fading memories of dreams in which he was tied up, and tormented by unseen hands, leaving him with an agonizingly rampant erection, which refused to let him get back to sleep. Slowly he crept across the carpeted floor, his bare feet making no sound. As Tyler crept closer to the opening, he began to hear noises from inside. There was a voice, but not Stalker’s voice. Step by silent step, Tyler moved far enough into the office so that he could see through the opening, and stifled a gasp of shock.

Stalker stood with his back mostly to the door, angled slightly so that he could see the left side of his ruggedly handsome face. In front of him a bizarre leather contraption hung from four chains which rose up to rings in the ceiling. Lying on his back in the contraption was a naked boy, of around Tyler’s age. The boy’s ankles were secured with leather straps to the chains nearest to Stalker, while his wrists were similarly locked onto the further set of chains. The boys head was hanging backwards, preventing Tyler from seeing his face, but he was fit and well-muscled, and his darkly tanned skin glowed with a sheen of perspiration, so it looked like beaten copper. Stalker’s pants were bunched around his knees, and Tyler could see the well-built thighs, and muscular butt contracting as the man’s hips pistoned back and forth. Although he couldn’t see the point where the man and the boy were conjoined, it was obvious that Stalker had the boy impaled on his meaty cock.

The boy’s voice rose again.

“Ah yeah, Sir! Fuck me…. Fuck my pussy, Sir.”

“Shut the fuck up, bitch.” Stalker growled, slapping the boy’s buttock hard with his left hand, while still guiding the boy back onto him with the right, which gripped tightly onto the kid’s hip.

The boy yelped, and Stalker smacked him roughly again. A throaty growl escaped the boy’s throat as he raised his head, beads of sweat flicking out from his matted hair, to look at his abuser, and Tyler took a step back in shock. The sweating boy caught the slight movement out of the corner of his vision. His head turned slightly, and for a brief moment he and Tyler locked eyes.

As soon as the boy’s face came into view Tyler recognized him. He had seen those same sweaty features, mid-length brown hair matted to his scalp, in the weight room at school, and on the football field triumphantly removing his helmet after a winning game. It was Matt Torres, the High School’s Quarterback.

Tyler thought he saw a hint of a smile cross Matt’s face, before he looked away again, as Stalker increased the pace of his pounding into the boy’s ass.

“Please Sir, I’m going to cum.” He panted.

“Wait, you little whore. Wait for permission.” Stalker demanded, and grabbed the Quarterback’s balls, tugging them towards him.

"Ahhhhhh! Fuck! The boy yelled.

Tyler was enthralled by the sight before him. The muscular, sweating boy, trembled in his bonds, and groaned with each thrust. The powerful Man, his Master, in complete control of the boy, impaling him again and again with his unseen cock. His own appendage was now so swollen that the head had emerged from the waist of his speedo, and was dibbling pre-cum. Tyler could not help wondering what it would feel like to have his Master’s cock buried deep inside him. The thought troubled him deeply. Somewhere in the back of his mind a part of him now knew that this would be his own fate. Surely it would hurt like hell, and maybe even split him in two. Yet Matt was seemingly loving it. Tyler, tried to bury the thought in the deepest recesses of his mind. Not wanting to admit the possibility to himself.

His thoughts were disrupted by a roar from Stalker.

“Beg for it bitch. Beg to be allowed to cum.”

“Aww, fuck, please Sir, please may I cum.” The normally assertive football stud pleaded. “Breed my pussy, pound my ass Sir, but please I need to come so bad. It’s been a whole week. My balls are bursting, Sir. Please, I need it so bad.”

Stalker gave one last thrust, spearing the boy’s guts with his erection and grunted.

“Now you little bitch. Cum now!”

Tyler saw the Quarterback’s hefty appendage spasm as globs of cum erupted form the tip. A guttural moan escaped Matt’s throat with each spurt. He kept watching until the boy’s body went limp, then Tyler withdrew silently towards the other door, and left the office.

In the reflection in the mirrored wall opposite the entrance to the training room, Stalker watched him go, a look of grim satisfaction on his face.

Tyler lingered outside Stalker’s office hurriedly tucking his swollen penis back into his speedo as best he could. Five minutes later Matt Torres emerged through the door, dressed in just a skimpy pair of running shorts. He acknowledged Tyler with a brief nod, and a mischievous grin, and then escaped down the hallway.

Tyler watched him go, admiring the rear view of the Quarterback’s impressive physique. The broad shoulders, muscular V-shaped back, narrow waist, twin dimples above the shapely bubble butt.

“Ah! Tyler. Just the boy I needed to see.” The boy was torn from his reverie by the gruff voice of his Master, whose clothes were now neatly replaced and straightened on his muscular frame.

Stalker led the boy back into his office.

“This coming Saturday we will be having a little gathering to introduce you officially to our members. A little meet and greet, if you like. Give them a chance to get to know you better. Maybe a whole lot better.” The man finished with an unpleasant snigger, and placed a hand on the curve of naked flesh above Tyler’s speedo covered ass.

“OK Sir.” Tyler agreed, although he had grave misgivings. He had an idea that come Saturday HE would be the one having his virgin ass broken open by either Stalker, or one of the members. His stomach gave a lurch. Yet rather than the cold hand of fear gripping his gut, it was the nervous butterflies of anticipation which he felt. What the fuck was wrong with him? Surely he didn’t really want this? He wasn’t gay. An image of Ashley, his beautiful blonde girlfriend flashed across his mind.

Stalker saw the look on the boy’s face.

“Don’t worry, boy. They won’t bite. Not yet anyway. They’ll treat you as you deserve to be treated.” This time an unnerving smirk crossed the man’s face.

The predatory look panicked Tyler. He had to find a way to get out of this whole situation. He didn’t want to end up like Matt Torres, having his ass impaled on Stalker’s impressive manhood. Sucking it was one thing, but he had no intention of letting that thing plow into his virgin hole.

“I.. I’m not sure if..” Tyler began.

“Nonsense boy. You’ll be here at 4 PM. Dress smart, to begin with at least.”

“But I don’t…”

Stalker cut the boy off again, resting his hand his shoulder, and spoke the trigger phrase “Sleepy boy”.

Instantly Tyler stopped his spluttering attempt to excuse himself from whatever Stalker had planned for Saturday, and his body relaxed.

“Who am I, boy.”

“You are my Master, Sir.”

Stalker smiled, and ran through the list of questions and commands which would reinforce his control over the boy. He ended by repeating his instructions for the following Saturday. Finally, he woke the boy up.

"Very good then. We’ll see you 4 pm prompt on Saturday?

“Yes Sir, 4 o’clock, on the dot.” Tyler gave a confused smile. He was sure there was some reason he did not want to be here on Saturday, but why would that be? He loved being here, and all the attention he received from the other members. It made him feel so hot. He knew he had a good body, and he secretly enjoyed showing it off to all the men who frequented the Club. They all seemed so nice, so why would he have a problem being properly introduced to them? He smiled more confidently at his Master, and turned to leave.

Before he reached the door, which was still cracked open a little, a figure dressed only in a tiny pair of running shorts, slipped away down the hall, diving into the men’s locker room, with a broad grin on his face.

Hot
Mind Control
Wanking material
Writing
Idea
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