By Throne
published April 27, 2018
3459 words

A new guy moves into the apartment across from mine. I don’t want anything to do with him. But I can see his TV through the bacony’s sliding doors. And he’s watching gay IR porn.


I was really disappointed when the cute blond moved out of the apartment across from mine. Our second floor balconies were directly opposite each other. Sometimes she would lie in a lounge chair on her balcony. Other times the curtains on her sliding glass door were left open. I often wondered if she did that to tease me. When she walked around in her underwear I usually got several good looks at her. I even thought we could be a good match for each other because both of us were short. And maybe she would like a guy who was slender and not obsessed with building himself up. So when she left and some guy took her unit, you can imagine how unhappy I was. Worse, he was a Black man. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not prejudiced. It’s just that sometimes I’m uneasy around Black males. A sexy Black girl would have been fine. But instead I got this tall athletic type with broad shoulders and a sculpted physique.

Soon after he moved in I spotted him sitting in a lawn chair wearing nothing but boxer shorts. He had a snack tray next to him, with a bottle of beer and a bag of corn puffs on it. With all the working out he obviously did, he could afford some extra calories. I went out onto my balcony and just stood there looking everywhere but at him. Then I turned on my heel, went inside, and closed the sliding door hard. Over the next week, anytime we passed each other I pointedly avoided eye contact. He didn’t seem to be affected by my standoffish attitude. But at least he appeared to get the message, which was that I didn’t want to have anything to do with him.

But then something changed. On evening his curtains were open. I had a clear view of his big screen television. The way the apartments were arranged, I would be the only one who could see that. I stood back with most of my lights off, so I was hidden in shadows. In the past he had mainly watched sports. But for some reason, I was curious what he would choose that night. So I was paying close attention when unexpected images appeared on the screen. There, in high definition, was a Black man wearing nothing but a posing strap that barely contained his oversized privates. I was mesmerized by the bizarre scene, of the man sitting on a sofa in what looked like an ordinary living room, heavy on masculine décor.

Then a second figure appeared. It was a young white guy, eighteen or nineteen. He was slim and not at all developed. All he wore were jockey shorts. In contrast to the other guy, he obviously wasn’t packing much of anything in his briefs. I tensed a bit at seeing that. My own genitals are – well – a bit below average. Okay, a lot below. I put that out of my mind as the white guy reached out of the frame and produced a bottle of beer, which he respectfully offered to the Black man. As the beer changed hands, the Black man sneered at his apparent servant.

I couldn’t look away. The Black fellow, still holding his beer, stood up. The other one knelt in front of him and lowered his posing strap. I hadn’t been wrong about the endowment waiting under that triangle of cloth. The kneeling youth stroked his Master’s cock to full erection. I couldn’t help thinking of the well hung man as Master. The slave began to fellate him. If the one was Master, the other had to be slave. Especially with the way he worshipped that superior cock, licked those hanging balls, and submissively kissed firm thighs. That scene went on and on, still holding me where I stood. It ended when the slave pulled his mouth off the cock, stroked it hard, and made it blast a heavy load of spunk into his waiting mouth. He turned his face to the camera, lips wide to demonstrate how much he had taken. Then he swallowed and theatrically licked his lips.

At last I managed to escape from that arresting video. I went numbly to the kitchen and opened a beer. Then, oddly enough, I set it on the counter and left it there. It was getting late so I decided to take a quick shower, wash my collar-length hair, and go to bed. All through the shower my skin tingled. As I dried off with a large fluffy towel it got worse. I ignored it as best I could and put on some cologne. Why was I doing that right before bed? Jeez. It was early Spring, and warm enough to sleep in the nude, I decided. The sheets felt good against my bare skin. I lay awake for a while, reviewing that strange incident. Finally I drifted off to slumber. I had some sort of intense dreams but I didn’t remember anything about them in the morning.

After I got dressed for my office job, I went to the sliding doors and stood gazing across the empty space between buildings, toward my neighbor’s apartment. It entered my mind unbidden that maybe I should go over there and talk to him. Only about that offensive video, of course. But I didn’t want to cause a problem. Maybe I could take a bottle of wine as a housewarming gift. Good neighbor gift. Whatever. No, that seemed like too much. The last message I wanted to send was that I was striking up a friendship. Ugh. Black was bad enough. But gay? That made my skin crawl. No thank you, Sir.

It was an average day at work. Quitting time came and I found myself eager to be home. As soon as I got there I put the bottle of wine into the fridge to chill. Hmm. I only dimly remembered purchasing it. No matter. I got out of my office attire and into a short belted robe. It felt so good with nothing on under it. I ate a light dinner, watched some mindless TV, and then peered across at my neighbor’s television.

There was more interracial gay porn playing. I shuddered. It was the same pair, but this time the slave was naked and lying prone to kiss his Master’s large feet. Then he got up onto his knees and moved behind him. The slave pressed his lips to the backs of Master’s hard calves and began working his way up. Soon he was kissing taut buttocks. Damn. How could he lower himself to do that? I was telling myself to turn away when the slave got his face into the center of Master’s ass and burrowed as deeply as he could. It was obvious that he was using his mouth in the last place he should have. Double ugh. My stomach turned over. This was really too much. I had to put a stop to it.

Taking the bottle of wine, which was nicely chilled by then, I left my apartment and stalked down the stairs, out the front door, and across the walkway. Once in the other building I went straight up to my neighbor’s apartment. It wasn’t until after I had knocked on his door that I remembered I had on only my robe. Well, I was just going to introduce myself, give him the bottle of wine, and politely ask him to close his curtains if he was going to watch that reprehensible material. Okay, maybe I wouldn’t use the word ‘reprehensible’. I could just say adult material. And I wouldn’t let my feelings show. After all, it was just what he liked to watch. To each their own. Sure. This would go smoothly and the issue would be resolved. No problem.

He opened his door and looked down at me. “Yes?” All he had on was another pair of those boxers.

“I’m… uh… Dave. From across the way.”

He looked me up and down. “I’m Earl. Come on in, Davey.”

Up close I realized he was older than I’d thought. Probably in his mid-30s. That was a little intimidating but I decided to stick with my plan. I offered him the bottle of wine. He accepted it and gave the label a cursory glance. Moving away from me, he told me to accompany him to the kitchen.

“Thank you,” I said, rather formally, and then added, “Sir.”

He glanced back at me with a smug expression. “I’m usually a beer drinker, but this stuff looks okay.”

Filling two stemmed glasses, he held one out to me. As Earl sipped, I took a larger swallow. The top halves of my robe slipped apart but I didn’t do anything to correct it. After all, I was only going to be there a short time. And act friendly. And remember to say something about that IR porn. Not that it was actually that bad, once you thought about it. I trembled slightly as he put his big on my shoulder to guide me toward the living room. Earl sat on the sofa and patted a spot next to him. I went wordlessly and put myself where he indicated, close but not too close. Not really. He used the remote and that large screen TV came to life.

“I guess you’ve seen what I like to watch from across the way. Right?”

“Well, yes, I have.” I squirmed around uneasily.

The bottom of my robe fell aside to expose my knees and some thigh. That seemed amusing and I smiled. Directly at Earl. He gave me a half smile in exchange.

“So let me show you some more,” he suggested. “And if we watch it together, you might understand it better.”

“That makes sense,” I agreed, drinking more wine from that glass, which I took note belatedly, was a big one.

On the screen a title appeared, ANOTHER SISSY GOES BLACK. I stared, transfixed, as that same Black man appeared, this time in a bedroom, now clad only in a jock strap.. Master sat on the edge of the bed and called for someone to get in there. I twitched, not having expected sound. But naturally there was sound. I simply hadn’t been able to hear it from my place. I wanted to look over at my apartment, just for reassurance I suppose, but didn’t do it. A different white guy entered the scene. Short and slim like the last one, but plainly effeminate. Instead of tight white shorts he wore snug pink panties. In short order he was on his knees, kissing the front of that stuffed jock strap’s cup, devotedly licking those inner thighs, going down for some foot action and then up again, ending by pressing his face firmly against Master’s crotch and keeping it there.

From the TV, Master said, “That’s it, snowflake. Breath deep. Get all that good sweat and musk all up into your button nose. If you’re a good sissy, I might let you smell something funky, over on the other side.”

“Yes, Sir,” the compliant white sub said in a breathy whisper. “Anything you want, Master.”

“You know,” Earl said to me, splitting my attention between the screen and his words. “This is even better if you jerk yourself while you’re getting into it. Make your hard-on feel super good.”

“Oh,” I said in a small voice. “I won’t get erect. I’m not gay. And I’m not a sissy. And I don’t like…”

That was when he took my wrist and placed my hand between my legs. I was startled to feel my small cock standing up. When I pulled the robe aside, there it was, as rigid as it had ever been. I put two fingers on it, like I wasn’t sure it was real.

“Heh,” Earl said. “Guess your thumb and one finger are enough to do the job. Not like that for me.”

I looked and saw, to my shock, that he too was hard. Except that instead of between four and five inches, like me, he was displaying between eight and nine. Thick. With visible veins. And a big knob on the end. I began to lightly stroke myself. He was right. It did feel good. Wonderful. My eyes flicked back and forth between the screen and his lap.

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” I told him numbly. “Did you do something to me?”

“What? You don’t think a Black dude could work on an advanced research project? And that he could be instrumental in developing a highly effective mind control system? Or that he would be smart enough to take a few components home and adapt them to his TV? So he could use it to make his nosy neighbor come calling? And teach him not to be snooty toward a nice person like me?”

“I… guess so.”

“Looks like you were wrong. So how about we switch who we’re stroking. You grab my monster cock and I’ll get a hold on your itty bitty one. Go on, Davey. Do it, boy.”

Suddenly I had my fingers partway around his massive cock and he was easily enclosing my much less impressive one. What I was feeling was all at once much better. It was incredibly stimulating. Having his heavy duty tool in my grip sent a current of sexual energy up my arm and directly into my brain. I was helplessly in Earl’s thrall.

“Now look what’s happening over there on the screen,” he said as he stood up and lowered his shorts, kicking them across the room.

On his TV the slave was kneeling, head bent far back, face turned upward. He was practically between his Master’s legs, lapping his balls from underneath.

I said, “That’s… fascinating.”

“It’s better than that. It’s damn hot. Now lose that sissy robe and get like he is. Be quick about it. There’s better stuff coming and I want you to keep up with that twinkle-boy in the video.”

Seconds later I was copying what the slave in the video was doing, hungrily slurping the bottom of Earl’s – Master Earl’s – gorgeous scrotum. I could feel the weight of his enviable balls. Couldn’t stop thinking of what they held. Some small part of my mind was trying to reassert itself. I wasn’t like this. Not a gay sissy. Never desperate to please a tall athletic Black man who I knew in my heart was my absolute Master.

“Thank you, Sir,” I heard myself say. “For letting me taste your magnificent ball sac.”

He laughed. “I knew when I aimed that system at you it would work. But I wasn’t sure if I should set it all the way up to ten. Looks like it was the thing to do. Of course, it might be kind of tough on you. At that setting everything you’re doing will become natural to you, desirable, until you can’t live without it. Now just to make sure you get to learn lots of useful techniques, how about if you check the screen and see what you’re doing next.”

I was horrified to witness the slave running his tongue up and down his Master’s cock, getting the head between his lips, and then swallowing as much of the considerable length as he was able. And yet that was what I was soon doing. I duplicated it all. Earl’s flavor, the way he felt in my mouth, and how subserviently happy I was to get him past my gag reflex, all of that was going to be what I most craved from then on. No, no, no.

“Here come’s my favorite part,” Earl announced a half hour later. “Watch and learn. And then do it, sissy.”

“Yes, Sir. Yes, Master.”

What I saw make me queasy. The slave was doing what I’d seen in that earlier video, wedging his features between his Master’s buns, lavishing oral attention on his sensitive pucker. I tried to close my eyes but couldn’t. What I was seeing became vitally important for me to replicate with the man whose body I now adored. He stretched out on the bed, supine, and I got between his legs. My hands strayed to his well defined muscles and I caressed them from ankles to tops of thighs. I even found myself recreating what had taken place on earlier videos, and using my mouth on his feet. But soon I advanced to the main act. My breathing quickened with excitement. I was positively starving to lick and suck and rim and probe. I wanted it more than I had ever wanted anything in my life.

Earl moaned with pleasure as I performed willingly and spiritedly, doing what formerly would have been the most unpleasant act of which I could conceive. He let me go on for a long while. I understood by then that, the longer I did it, the more deeply my new addiction to it would be driven into my receptive mind. I was going to be a slave to Black men’s asses from that day on. Finally he allowed me to stop, but only so I could return to sucking his potent cock. I was so proud to be able to do it for him. And thrilled that it lasted so long. But I was also restless to get my final reward. When it came it was a generous helping. His thick salty cream spurted into my mouth, coated my tongue, ran down my throat, and filled me with joy. When it was over I snuggled between his legs, nuzzling his damp man parts. My only regret was that we couldn’t start all over, right then and there.

The next morning we watched some more IR porn. I picked up a few more moves. Who knew that having my face in someone’s armpit and huffing their odor could be so powerfully compelling? Would I have believed it if I’d been told that holding his oversized balls in my mouth would be habit forming? Could I have imagined how complete I felt when he fingered my ass and promised me that soon it would be his beautiful cock back there, stretching me out, hurting me but also teaching me new pleasures? I could only long for that ultimate fulfillment.

“So here’s the deal, blue eyes,” he told me later. “I want you here every night, and anytime else I say. Maybe I’ll teach you to get off on some kinky stuff too. Like being over my lap getting spanked until you cry. Or having me tie you up into some weird positions, so you can try to get me off when you’re like that. And even going past just panties. I wouldn’t mind seeing you in stockings and a garter belt. Maybe a belly shirt. Lipstick on your mouth while those lips are around my Johnson. Yeah, we’re going to play all kinds of games. Got it?”

Those last several ideas scared me. Yet I knew he could make them as desirable and irresistible as he had already done with so many others. And that a part of me would always be repulsed by every second of it as well as remembering it all afterwards.

I assured him, “Yes, Sir. I understand, Master.”

Without being told, I got down on the floor to kiss his feet. He laughed when I got his big toe into my mouth and sucked vigorously.

“Oh yeah,” he said with a grin. “I’m going to take you all the way and then some. You are going to be a total sissy for Black cock. And ass. Can’t wait to have some buddies over to enjoy you along with me.”

I shivered. How many buddies? But then the thought of more Black bodies to idolize, other Black men who could use me however they pleased, overwhelmed my senses. I was truly hooked on being a gay sissy for commanding and well hung Black men.

(I also have Throne stories with other Dom/sub and related themes on the free site, Hope you’ll take a look and, if you like what you read, leave reviews there.)

Mind Control
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