22 comments/ 101930 views/ 64 favorites How I Train My Bitch-Boys By: bjmichaels The secret of properly training a boy is conditioning his mind; opening his mind to the endless possibilities of sexual pleasure. Some men train their boys through the use of force and physical intimidation--I strongly disapprove of that method. You desire, as your end result, a boy who willingly submits to your every sexual demand because he wants to—because he craves it--not because he’s afraid of pain and punishment. A boy who loves you will serve you far better than a boy who fears you. Granted, some men derive greater sexual satisfaction through power and control—they love the look of fear in the eyes of their boys, and as it has been said, power is the ultimate aphrodisiac. I, on the other hand, gain my greatest sexual pleasure from knowingly transforming an otherwise straight boy into my cock-hungry bitch-boy. Men have claimed that my method is unethical and underhanded; that my use of drugs to achieve my goal totally discredits my results. I disagree. First off, Viagra and Phentermine are not illegal and do not fall into the same category as illicit drugs—one is simply a cure for ‘erectile dysfunction’ and the other is an appetite suppressant. Secondly, my results speak for themselves; several prominent, high-powered businessmen have retained my services for the sole purpose of seducing and training boys they wish to serve them. My method has a proven success rate of 100%--how can anyone argue with that number? My method is very basic and it came to me in a daydream. One day a thought popped into my mind and I simply experimented with it: if Viagra cures impotence in older men, what would it do for a twenty-one-year old male with a healthy sex drive? I hadn’t had a ‘boy’ of my own in a year. My work was all-consuming, and quite frankly, I hadn’t met a boy I desired to possess. That changed when Johnny moved into my apartment building. Johnny is 5’7” and 140 pounds. He has beautiful blue eyes, semi-long, light-brown hair; a flawless complexion and creamy white flesh. He is cute as a button. I decided I wanted him to be mine. I had Johnny write the following story. I have inserted comments of my own in italics. It is the ultimate testimonial to my powers of seduction. I was moving into the ‘Tropical Palms Apartments’ on Fletcher Avenue when I met Peter. I was struggling with two over-loaded boxes and he asked if he could help. I said, “Sure, thanks” and before I knew it we’d unloaded my whole car. It was a hot and humid day and when we were finished the sweat was dripping off us. I offered him something cool to drink and that was my first opportunity to really look and talk with him. We had both taken off our shirts and our bodies glistened with perspiration. I had never thought of men in terms of sexuality, but as I was looking at him I thought that if I were a girl, this is the kind of guy I’d be attracted to. Peter is three inches taller than me and about forty pounds heavier, but I didn’t see an ounce of fat on him. I guessed him to be in his mid-thirties. A Roman sculptor couldn’t have chiseled a finer chest and physique. I guess you could say he was very handsome, too. None of that mattered to me, like I said; I was strictly ‘hetero’—I had absolutely no interest in him outside of maybe being friends with him. He was also quite interesting to talk to—he was definitely a Type-A personality. Intelligent and funny--a good listener, too; he had the rare quality of making you feel like he actually cared about what you had to say. He asked what I was doing for dinner that night, and I told him my girlfriend, Amy, was going to cook me a ‘moving-in’ meal. “That’s great,” he said. “Well, at least c’mon down to my apartment and we’ll have a shot of ‘Ambrosia’ to celebrate your move.” “Yeah…okay…” I said. That was when I learned how difficult it was to say ‘No’ to him. His apartment was pretty much like mine—only with nicer, more expensive furnishings. In one corner of the room he had set-up an exercise area complete with barbells and weights. So that’s how he got that great body, I thought to myself. He disappeared then came back with two shot glasses filled with a clear liquid. He toasted me: “Welcome to the building—here’s looking forward to a beautiful relationship!” His words caught me off guard—I’d never heard a guy say he wanted a ‘relationship’ with me before. I shrugged it off and we drank the shot. It had a slightly sweet flavor; it was pretty good. I thanked him and went back to my apartment. That was the beginning of Phase 1. The liquid he drank was Phentermine—an appetite suppressant with an unusual side-effect: impotence. My shot glass just had water in it. Amy came over at six. She brought food she said had taken all day to cook. I wasn’t hungry right-off so I fixed us a couple Martini’s. We sat on the couch and drank and talked and kissed and petted. Amy was a beautiful girl, slim, with 34-B breasts. I had my hand under her shirt feeling her breasts through her bra. It was then that my ‘problem’ began. I noticed I wasn’t getting ‘excited’--Amy noticed , too. “Something wrong, darling?” she asked when her hand pressed against my crotch, and my usual erection wasn’t there. “Ah…no, I don’t know,” was all I could say. We decided to eat dinner. She had gone to all this trouble and now, sitting at the table, I figured I’d better force myself to eat. After four swallows of food I excused myself and went to the bathroom and vomited. Amy said I was sick and needed rest so she put away the food and went home. She’d told me to go to bed. My roommate came home from work. He’d moved his things in the day before because he had to work today. His name was Greg, we worked together and decided we could afford a nicer place to live if we pooled our money and lived together. He was a good guy. I didn’t feel sick so I went with Greg to the swimming pool. Peter was there and I introduced them. I sat next to Peter while Greg was swimming. “What happened to your date—I thought Amy was bringing you dinner?” asked Peter. “I don’t know…I didn’t feel well…she went home…” He smiled that nice smile of his and said, “That’s too bad…” We got to talking and he mentioned some energy pills he was taking…how they worked great for him. I told him I’d try them. We went to his apartment and he gave me a small bottle. There weren’t many pills in it. “Take one in the morning…let me know when you run out.” We sat and talked for over two-hours. He was a fascinating guy, and he was able to draw me out. I’m usually a pretty quiet guy. I was beginning to like him a lot. “Ever lift weights?” he asked. “No…I’ve never really exercised much,” I said, aware of my slight beer-belly. “I guess it shows.” We laughed then he showed me some ‘reps’ he did with the weights. He had me lay on the bench and he ‘spotted’ me while I did the ‘reps’. I struggled at first, but he adjusted the weight and I was able to lift them easier. I enjoyed it. The next few days came and went. I won’t bore you with all the details but Amy came over three days straight, and I couldn’t ‘perform’ for her. She was beginning to get frustrated and angry with me. One night she said in a nasty tone, “Maybe you’d rather be with Peter. Do you get a hard-on when you’re with him?” I blushed a deep scarlet and said, “Of course not!” I knew something was wrong. I was growing increasingly irritable at work, and customers were complaining about me. The manager told me if he heard anymore complaints he’d let me go. I went to Peter’s every day to exercise. It was very addictive. He had me doing fifty sit-ups a day and then work with the weights. My beer-belly was beginning to noticeably disappear, and my chest was beginning to develop a ‘definition’, as he called it, and it was a good way to work off the sexual tension I felt from not ‘getting-off’ for almost a week. My birthday was that Friday. Peter came into the store and said he wanted to buy me dinner to celebrate. Since neither Amy or Greg mentioned anything to me about a party, or even acknowledged my birthday. I agreed and Peter picked me up after work. Peter and I had a fantastic time. For whatever reason, I was able to eat and we feasted on crab legs and filet mignon. I was ravenous. I’d never eaten that much food before. When we arrived home I said good night to Peter and went into my apartment. The lights were dim and I heard music playing. Then I thought I heard a noise coming from Greg’s bedroom. As I went to investigate, I saw Amy’s purse on the coffee table. Something’s not right here, I thought to myself. I listened at his bedroom door then I burst into the room. They were naked and Amy was on top of Greg—she was sliding up-and-down Greg’s cock. I was stunned and furious. I screamed at them and stormed out of the room. I pounded on Peter’s door. I poured my heart out to him for the next hour. Phase 2 was the most difficult part of the plan. It required expert planning and precision timing. A mistake here and the entire operation would be ruined. I had ingratiated myself with both Greg and Amy. He enjoyed my company but Amy was wary of me. When Greg saw Johnny’s new physique, he asked what I could do for him. I gave him some pills and mentioned some exercises he could try. The pills I gave him were a form of Viagra. I conspired with the two of them to have a surprise birthday dinner for Johnny. I had observed how Greg and Amy acted when they were together. Greg’s eyes cried out with lust and desire whenever she was around. She was very flirtatious with him. It was a natural fit. Before I picked up Johnny that night, I phoned Greg and told him Johnny had to work overtime—that he wouldn’t be home until ten. I told him he and Amy should just go ahead and eat, and they may as well drink the champagne I’d bought. After that I let nature take its course. I calculated that after taking Viagra a few days, Greg would be hornier than a goat. If he hadn’t have seduced Amy—he might well have taken her by force. But she’d been without sex too, so I didn’t think it would come to that. The only other problem was what would happen if they compared notes and discovered that Johnny hadn’t worked overtime—I figured the subject wouldn’t come up. Greg and Johnny worked different shifts and rarely saw one another, and now, they wouldn’t even be on speaking terms. At dinner that night, I poured some liquid Viagra into Johnny’s wine. I had taken him off the diet pills two days earlier so the Viagra would have its desired effects—I wasn’t disappointed. Peter sat next to me on his couch as I fought back my tears. He was very comforting and supportive. He put his arm around me and stroked my back and shoulders. I was grateful to have such a good friend. “I have a present for you,” he said, and handed me a small box. I ripped it open and found a pair of navy blue gym shorts and a jockstrap. “Now you’ll be properly dressed for lifting weights…go ahead and try them on,” he said. I was a little embarrassed but I went to the bathroom and took off my clothes. I hadn’t worn a jock since high school gym class; I had to figure out how to wear it. Then I slipped into the shorts—they were very short, indeed, maybe to mid-thigh. I left my shirt off thinking I wanted to lift some weights. I blushed when I saw Peter looking at my outfit. He had a wide smile on his face. “You look fabulous,” he said. “C’mon, I’ll spot you.” I followed him to the weight bench and lay on my back. The leg bands of the shorts were flared open and I was afraid he could see underneath. Don’t be silly, I thought. I was wearing a jockstrap and anyway, Peter was all man—he wouldn’t be looking at me ‘there’. He gave me the barbell and told me to do 25 reps. That was more weight than I was accustomed to; I counted to myself as I worked the barbell up and down. He touched my thighs to re-position my legs—Jesus—I sprang a boner—I hoped he didn’t notice it. My God what a beautiful boy! So delicate and smooth. I intentionally placed my hands on his thighs and he instantly became hard; there was a bulge in his shorts. With his small bone structure I guessed he had a tiny penis. I was doing Amy a favor. I was sure Greg’s cock would bring her much more pleasure than Johnny. This was the last time I would have him lift weights—I wanted a pretty-boy who was in shape—not a strong, muscle-boy. I would increase his sit-ups to 200 a day. I wanted his tummy to remain flat and firm. This boy was going to provide me with countless orgasms, but for now, I decided it was time for Phase 3 to begin. It was time to give him the greatest sexual satisfaction he would ever know. In just a few days, he would become addicted to my touch and my soothing voice. I loved Phase 3—it gave me the rare opportunity to play role-reversal—I would play the ‘bottom’ to his ‘top’. My own cock throbbed inside my boxers. He didn’t even notice when I stripped to my shorts. I was almost finished with my reps. I was sweating and I couldn’t ignore the hardness of my cock. It had been a long time since I felt this aroused—I didn’t know what I should do. Peter had surely noticed it by now. When I reached 25, Peter took the barbell and set it on the floor. I was breathing hard and he told me to lie still. My cock was throbbing in my jock—the tight strap between my bottom-checks rubbed against my anus—it was very arousing. Peter’s voice was low, as he said, “Alright—time for an oil massage—lie on your stomach.” I didn’t know what he meant but turned over and waited—after all, he was my ‘coach’. When his strong hands began kneading the flesh on my back, I groaned and pressed my erection into the bench. The oil he was rubbing on my skin was warm and sensual. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the massage. When I felt his hands tugging at my shorts and jock I protested. “Peter—no,” I said, but he was insistent. “Raise up—I’m going to make you feel good,” he instructed. My mind was reeling but my body was crying out for attention. I raised my hips and felt my last remaining modesty peeled down and off. I was naked on the bench and he began massaging my legs. He poured oil on my bottom-cheeks and massaged them. A continual moan escaped my lips—I couldn’t stop him even if I wanted. A finger slipped between my cheeks and rubbed oil on my anus. My body jerked and spasmed—I was close to cumming. “Turn on your back,” he whispered. I felt his hands helping to turn me over. My cock trembled when it came into his view. I was humiliated that he could see my arousal. Then I felt his hands on my cock and scrotum. He squirted more oil and massaged my balls. My God it was fabulous—I’d never felt anything like it. His oily hand stroked my cock. Suddenly, Peter took my cock into his mouth—I cried out—he sucked my cockhead and stroked me to the best orgasm of my life. I shot a week’s worth of pent-up lust into his mouth and he swallowed it all. Afterwards, I felt both gratitude and shame. I didn’t know what I should do. My mind was confused and unsure. Peter helped me to my feet. My legs wobbled and he caught me before I fell. “P-Peter…I’m not gay—I’m not gay…. “ was all I could say. “I know—I know—I couldn’t resist—you’re the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen—I wanted to do something special for you on your birthday—don’t be mad—c’mon, we’re going to take a shower—I’m going to clean the oil off you.” I was powerless to refuse. He took my small hand and led me to the bathroom. He stepped out of his boxers and I saw another man’s hard cock for the first time in my life. I couldn’t take my eyes off it as we stepped into the tub. He lathered me all over with soap and the hot water beating down on us felt wonderful. His hands on my body worked their magic. He whispered in my ear. “My God you’re beautiful—Johnny, you are so beautiful….” When his tongue darted in and out of my ear and I felt his hot breath—my penis became hard again. He lathered it and softly stroked it. He pressed the bar of soap between my bottom-cheeks and moved it back and forth over my anus. I swooned and fell into is arms. We kissed; a long, lingering meeting of our lips and tongues. I felt humiliation and shame at my weakness—my total lack of self-control. He turned off the water and dried me. I felt like a helpless little boy in his hands. I mumbled that I had to go home, but he said, “No—they’re probably still sucking and fucking and I don’t want you to get hurt again” then he said, “I want you with me tonight—I’ll take care of you.” It seemed that saying ‘No’ was not an option. We walked naked to his bedroom. Our stiff cocks bobbing ahead of us. This was all so different—so weird—but when I felt his arm around me it felt so natural. I couldn’t fight him—I forgot all about resisting him. When he flipped a light switch a small lamp next to the bed came on with a dim red light bulb—it gave his bedroom an aura of sexuality. The bedspread had already been turned back. He had me lie on my back. He gently lay on top of me. His weight pinned me to the mattress. I became both thrilled and alarmed. A naked man was lying on top of me on his bed. My penis began to throb. My damn penis was giving away my conflicting emotions. He stroked my face and hair and repeated over and over, “You’re the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen—you’re the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen….” I began to feel beautiful. A warmth rushed through my entire body. I put my arms around his broad back and hugged him. We kissed—we kissed for a long time. His lips were hot and his tongue searched out my own. My cock throbbed and pulsated against his flesh. I was dizzy—my mind was lost in a fog. He kissed his way down my body. He massaged and kissed my breasts and nipples—oh how he sucked and fondled my nipples! My balls ached for release. I writhed and squirmed under his ministrations. When his mouth took possession of my cock I cried out. I was generally pretty quiet during sex, but not tonight. My moans and groans of pleasure filled the room. When his tongue and fingers teased my cock, I begged him to suck it—I pleaded with him to let me cum. He took my entire cock into his mouth; I’d never known this kind of excitement even existed. I could feel every inch of his velvet tongue on my throbbing penis. When his finger pushed against my anus I screamed out loud—my hips bucked wildly as I shot stream after stream of cum into his sucking mouth. The nerve-endings on my cock seemed super-sensitive as I spasmed and thrashed about on the bed. When he had emptied my balls, he lie on top of me and kissed me. I threw my arms around him and gratefully kissed him back. His tongue was coated with my cum but I didn’t care—I sucked at it and reveled in the creamy, salty flavor. We lay side-by-side, kissing and stroking one another. He took my hand and placed it on his hardness. I flinched—I’d never touched a man’s penis, but he held my hand and moved it slowly along its length. “Help me cum, Johnny…please help me cum….” He had been so good to me I wanted to repay his kindness. My fingers curled around his girth. He showed me how I should do it for him. My hand moved back and forth on his hot and smooth flesh. I stroked him as he whispered in my ear. “Tell me how you like my cock in your hand, Johnny…tell me how much you love the heat—the texture—the smoothness in your hand…say it, Johnny—tell me you love my cock in your hand.” His voice was so soothing—he had given me the greatest pleasure I’d ever known… “Yesss…I love the feel of your cock, Peter—it’s so smooth and hot—I love the feel of your cock in my hand….” “Tell me you want to make me cum, Johnny…tell me you want to stroke my cock until I shoot my cum….” How I Train My Bitch-Boys His words excited me—my penis twitched and grew erect. I couldn’t believe I was getting hard again. I had never had more than two orgasms in one night and now I was almost ready for another. I’d never felt such joy. “Ohhh yess, Peter—I want to make you cum—I want to make you feel good—I want to stroke your cock, Peter…” “Say it again, Johnny—I love hearing those words—tell me you love stroking my cock, Johnny--say it over and over for me….” Oh God—he was right…. “I love stroking your cock, Peter…I love stroking your cock, Peter…I love the feel of your cock in my hand…I love stroking your cock….” As my hand moved faster and faster on his throbbing cock my own excitement was building to a fever pitch. He suddenly grasped my hardness and stroked it in the same rhythm as my hand. We groaned and kissed as our hands worked each other’s cocks. Our hands went faster and our moans of pleasure filled the air in his bedroom. Suddenly, we both began cumming at the same time—his hot cum shooting on my belly excited me beyond belief. I shot another load that night onto Peter’s marvelous body. We jerked about on the bed like fish out of water. Peter rubbed his hand on my belly, gathering his cum on his fingers. He pressed his hand to my mouth. “Taste my cum, sweetie…taste my cum….” I didn’t hesitate—this was Peter who had given me the greatest night of my life. My tongue lapped up the cum on his hand. I cleaned his hand of his cum and I loved the taste of it. We held each other until we fell asleep. His training was going much better than I had anticipated. I had been correct in my assumption that he hadn’t had much of a sex life before now. I decided to move up the time table. I would still give him Viagra, but I would begin to ‘deny’ then ‘ration’ his orgasms. By the end of the next day I would have him willingly sucking my cock—and he’d be begging me to do it. When I woke up I didn’t know where I was until I saw Peter laying next to me in bed. I felt scared and confused. The memories of the previous night were burned into my mind. We had done things I never in my wildest imagination thought I’d ever do. The problem was that I liked it and it wasn’t a girl who made me feel that way. I lost track of the number of times I came—it was fantastic. I never knew sex could be like that. Even now, in the morning, I had a raging hard-on and wanted to cum. I looked at Peter’s cock and he was hard, too. I fought the urge to reach over and stroke it like I had last night. Peter woke up and pulled me to him and we kissed. I was getting over my shyness about kissing a guy and I found myself enjoying it. He had assured me that no one would ever find out what we did in private and I trusted him completely. When we got out of bed, Peter had me wear just my jockstrap while he slipped into his silk boxers. We went to the kitchen and he gave me my vitamin pill and I swallowed it. Then Peter suggested I do fifty sit-ups while he pumped iron. I watched Peter as he lifted weights. He had a wonderful physique, and I felt a strange thrill as I watched the sweat begin to form on his taut and muscular body. My cock grew hard in my jock. I’d never had this many erections in my life. “Let’s hit the shower, sweetie,” he said as he rolled off the weight bench.”Jesus, Johnny—you’re insatiable.” He chuckled as he pointed at my bulging jock. I blushed as we headed towards the bathroom. He began to run the water then he turned to me and took me in his arms. We kissed—he held me tight and my penis twitched and throbbed. In one motion he grasped the waistband of my jock and peeled it down my legs. My cock stood straight out. “Cute little thing,” he said and grasped it between two fingers and gave it a couple strokes. God that felt good! My penis had never been so sensitive—even a slight breeze on it felt wonderful. “My turn,” he announced and I knew what he meant. I pulled his boxers down and watched his stiff prick spring into view. He saw me staring at it and took me in his arms again. “Sweetie,” he smiled at me, “…tell me I have a beautiful cock—I want to hear you say it, sweetie.” I blushed again, but I couldn’t resist obeying him. “Peter, you have a beautiful cock—yes, you have a beautiful cock…” We went into the tub. The hot water spraying us felt great. He soaped my body; his hands were indescribably delicious. I felt the familiar aching in my balls—I wanted to cum—I needed to cum. When he pulled his hands away I groaned in disappointment. “Oh God, Peter—please…” I whimpered. He lifted my chin with a finger and I found myself staring into his deep, blue eyes. “Sweetie,” he said softly, “I think we need to work on your self-control—you don’t want to become just another cum-slut, do you?” I blushed. I said “No”, but in all honesty I didn’t know what he meant. “I’ll teach you self-control, okay? I’ll let you know when you can cum, okay?” “Okay,” I meekly said. I soaped up Peter and washed his chest and back. Then he had me soap his ball sac and hard penis. “I want to teach you something, okay?” he asked. “Okay,” I said. He placed his hands on the wall and spread his legs. “Stand behind me…take the soap in your right hand and smooth it over my anus and around my balls and back again…yes, that’s good…now lean over and take my cock in your left hand…yeah, like that…now keep going, sweetie…oh yeah, you are wonderful—you are a wonderful boy…this is called a ‘reach-around’, sweetie…you’re giving me a reach-around handjob…oh yes—your hands are fantastic….” The more I handled his cock the more excited I became. I was acutely aware of the sweet pain I felt in my balls. My cum was building up, but I didn’t want to disappoint Peter by cumming without his permission. I admitted to myself I had a lot to learn. “How does my cock feel in your hand, sweetie?” “It feels wonderful, Peter—your cock feels wonderful in my hand—I love stroking your cock, Peter—I love stroking your cock….” I concentrated on giving him the best handjob I could. He shook and shuddered when I made him cum. It was thrilling! He took me in his strong arms and we kissed. “You’re a wonderful boy,” he said, “…you’re a wonderful boy.” I don’t think I’d ever felt as proud of myself as I did just then. When we finished in the bathroom Peter had me wear my gym shorts. The jock might be too constraining on my erect penis, he said. He wore his boxers. He had me do fifty more sit-ups while he prepared breakfast. To my consternation, my hard-on would not subside. As a-matter-of-fact it got worse. The feel of the nylon against my flesh was driving me crazy with desire. Peter noticed my groans and heavy breathing and had me stop. He went into the bedroom and came back with a tiny leather belt-like device. He came to me and without asking or saying a word he pushed my shorts down to the floor. He took my scrotum in his hand and wrapped the little belt around my ball sac just below the base of my penis. I flinched in surprise when he pulled it tight and fastened it into place. I looked down and my balls were pressed together and my scrotum looked obscenely large. He gave my cock a few strokes and told me to pull up my shorts. “Sweetie, this will help your self-control—you won’t be able to cum until I take it off you, okay?” My head was spinning. “Okay,” I said. Peter made a huge breakfast: Eggs, sausage, potatoes and toast. It was delicious—he was a good cook. From time-to-time he reached between my legs and stroked my cock through the nylon fabric and he would say “Good boy—good boy”, and each time I would gasp and moan. He smiled at me and I smiled back at him. Even with all the food, I felt weak and I was trembling. It seemed as though my whole being centered on my crotch. All I could think of was having an orgasm. I needed to cum to make me feel normal again. I was dizzy with lust. “Sweetie,” Peter said. “What time do you have to work today?” OH MY GOD!! I’d completely forgotten about work! I looked at the clock on the wall and cursed. I was already an hour late! My blood boiled—I was in full-scale panic mode. “Johnny—Johnny…relax…I’ll call them and tell them you’re sick, okay?” That might work, I thought. “Oh God, thank you, Peter—thank you!” When training a new boy, you have to eliminate as many ‘outside’ influences or distractions, as possible. It is always advisable to keep them with you for the duration of their training. This will result in strong reinforcement of your methods, and a much faster training period. With Johnny, I was beginning to sense that I could have him completely ‘turned-out’ in a matter of days. ‘Plausible deniability’ is also an important tool. When I called his place of employment I told his boss that John didn’t feel like coming to work today. Of course, his boss flew into a rage and told me to tell him he was fired. When asked about what I said to his boss I would say, “No, I did not say you didn’t feel like working—I said you weren’t feeling well enough to work—he obviously misunderstood me.” After one more phone call the die was cast. Today would be the day all of Johnny’s alternative options would disappear—he would come to the realization that his life had collapsed but I would be there for him to help him begin a new life. He took me in his arms once he was off the phone. I was trembling from fear of missing work and my balls still ached for relief. He soothed me—he stroked my arms and back and chest and I fell into his arms and we settled into a long and slow period of kissing and petting. I forgot all about work. He reached into my shorts and gently caressed and fondled my burning flesh. I couldn’t take it anymore. “Please, Peter—please let me cum—please let me cum….” “Are you going to be a good boy, sweetie?” “Yes—oh yes, I’ll be a good boy!” We kissed some more; his hand in my shorts was driving me insane. “Are you going to obey me, sweetie? Are you going to do what I tell you to do?” “Oh God, yes Peter—I’ll obey you—I’ll do whatever you want me to do—I promise!” Peter picked me up in his arms and carried me into the bedroom. It was the sexiest moment of my life: being carried by a strong man made me feel weak and girl-like—I didn’t care—it was thrilling—here was a superior man and he wanted me. My head swooned and my heart pounded. And when Peter stripped off our clothes and I saw his throbbing cock I felt proud and sexy—this Adonis wanted me—this gorgeous hunk of man was excited and desired me. We lay side-by-side---head-to-tail. His beautiful cock was inches from my face. “Sweetie,” he said, “…do whatever I do, okay?” “Okay,” I breathlessly answered. I knew what he wanted me to do. I knew he wanted me to take his manhood in my mouth and pleasure him. I didn’t know if I could do that. When his lips closed around my cockhead and his tongue lathered my flesh and my body writhed on the mattress my defenses crumbled--I knew I had no choice—I wanted to suck his cock. I took hold of his stiff prick and guided it to my mouth. My lips slid around his velvety cock-flesh and I was in heaven—the taste and aroma filled my head with new sensations. I couldn’t get much more than his cockhead into my mouth. I followed his lead. I licked and sucked and stroked his magnificent cock. I began whimpering with kitten-like mewling noises escaping my lips. I strained to cum but realized the belt was still around my balls. I couldn’t cum. “PLEASE PETER PLEASE!!” I begged. “Sweetie, after I cum I’m going to give you the greatest orgasm of your life, okay?” “OKAY-OKAY….” I slobbered on his wonderful cock. I worked my hands furiously as my lips and tongue sucked his cock. I stroked him faster-and-faster hoping he’d shoot his semen in my mouth. “I’m almost there, sweetie—almost there…I want you to swallow it when I cum, sweetie.” I felt his cock expand and stretch my lips wide. Then it began: thick streams of hot cum filled my mouth to overflowing. I swallowed and gulped down as much cum as I could keep in my mouth. I felt his semen on my chin and cheeks as I couldn’t keep up with the massive amount of jizz he shot in my mouth. I felt like I disappointed him—I let him down by not swallowing every drop. When he held his penis to my mouth and told me to lick him clean I felt he was giving me a second chance so I worked hard at cleaning his penis. I discovered something that would change my life: I loved the taste of his cum. “Sweetie, that was pretty good for your first time, but you’re going to have to learn how to swallow all of my cum, okay?” “Y-Yes, Peter—I’ll swallow it all—please teach me how to swallow all of your cum.” “That’s a good answer, sweetie…do you want to cum now? Tell me how much you want to cum.” The pent-up lust in my balls overwhelmed me. My mind was on one thing and one thing only. “OH PETER—PLEASE LET ME CUM—PLEASE MAKE ME CUM PETER!!” I have had clients who wanted their boys trained to cum in various ways. One popular method is the boy is allowed only to cum when he has a hard penis in his mouth. Another boy was allowed to cum only while his tongue was servicing his man’s asshole. One boy was trained to cum when he had his man’s balls in his mouth. When I’m training a boy for my own personal use, his anus and rectum are my focal points. My boys are allowed to cum only when their assholes are being stimulated. They may have my cock inside them, or I might have them finger-fuck themselves or use a vibrator while they masturbate, but it becomes very clear to them that their orgasms and assholes are inextricably linked together. Peter had me get on my hands and knees on the bed. He pushed my legs as far apart as they would go. An alarm in my head told me he might want to fuck me, but at that point, my only concern was having an orgasm. My body was a trembling mass—my balls seemed huge and ready to burst at any moment. I was whimpering incoherently, babbling gibberish beneath my breath. If I didn’t cum soon I just knew I’d be permanently damaged. Peter sat beside me with a bottle of clear liquid in his hand. I watched him coat his long middle finger with the oil then I felt that finger between my bottom-cheeks. He coated my anus with oil; he massaged my perineum. “OOOHHHHH-GGOODDDDDDD….” I groaned as my head rolled from side-to-side. At this point of his narrative, Johnny’s writing became indecipherable—he was too far gone for his mind to assimilate what was happening to him. I will document the remainder of this session. I took my time oiling his rectum. When my middle finger easily slid in-and-out of his asshole I pulled it free—he groaned in disappointment, but I quickly replaced my finger with the long, cylindrical dildo-like tube I use for this purpose. I inserted the tube past his anus and slowly pushed it all the way inside him. The tube is seven-inches long (the same as my cock) and three-quarters-of-an-inch in diameter (half the size as me). When training a virgin like Johnny, their natural instinct is to clench their sphincter to evade the strange intrusion. I will give their bottom-cheeks a stinging pinch and repeat the mantra “Relax-relax-relax”. They will loosen themselves and allow the object to fully penetrate them. I will then begin a slow fucking of his asshole. In Johnny’s case, he was already very close to his peak of arousal so I fucked him faster, deeper and harder. When I thought he was ready, I pushed the tube into him deep enough to bump his prostate. A virgin boy, any boy for that matter, always screams and writhes about uncontrollably once he feels the ecstacy of a cock or dildo ramming his prostate. It was all I could do to hold his hips still while I fucked him with the dildo. His body was covered in a thin layer of sweat and a steady moan came from his lips. It was time to have him bond with me emotionally. I unfastened the belt around his scrotum and vigorously stroked his cock.   “Tell me you love me sweetie,” I always say at this point. “Tell me you love me.” Once the restraining device was undone, it was a matter of seconds before Johnny experienced the most intense orgasm of his life. I milked his cock and all the while he was cumming he shouted, “I LOVE YOU PETER—I LOVE YOU PETER—I LOVE YOU PETER.” I smiled to myself. From now on, he would always equate his orgasms with anal stimulation. I was confident that some time tonight he not only would be begging to suck my cock—he would also be begging me to fuck him in the ass. Johnny was turning into a very easy and agreeable boy to train. Normally, once my boy spews his semen, whether it’s on the bed, or anywhere else for that matter, I would have him clean it all up with his mouth. However, a new boy must gradually become accustomed to obeying your commands; in a day or two Johnny would be trained in this procedure as well. I lay on top of Peter—his arms around me holding me tight. I felt safe and secure. He was a wonderful man who’d just given me so much pleasure I wasn’t sure how to repay him. His penis was hard as a rock against my thigh; I had an idea. I kissed my way down his body until I was kneeling between his open legs. I looked up at his angelic face; he had a dreamy smile on his lips. When he said “Kiss it” my lips puckered and covered his hardness with kisses; when he said “Lick it” my tongue lathered every inch of his cock and balls with saliva. Finally, when he told me to “Suck it” I concentrated on giving him pleasure with my lips and tongue and hands, and this time, I was determined to swallow every drop of his cum. After we showered, Peter handed me the leather strap and showed me how to ‘cinch my balls’. He said it would be my responsibility to do this every day. At first I frowned, but he convinced me it was necessary for not only my self-control, but to also maximize the pleasure I received when I was allowed to orgasm. We stayed in his apartment the remainder of the day. He wore his boxer shorts, and he insisted I remain naked. It was time to work on Johnny’s ego, and self-confidence. To create a successful bitch-boy, their sense of self-worth and self-respect must be redirected to satisfying their man’s every command; their own needs and desires are secondary to that of their mans. To accomplish this feat, the boy must be convinced that his role in society as being and acting like a ‘man’ was wrong to begin with, because his obvious love of cock proves he is not a man, but a boy who belongs in the role of satisfying men. Since he was already becoming proficient at cock-sucking, and his orgasm-of-a-lifetime was the result of getting fucked in the ass, he was already questioning his manhood—he was beginning to accept the fact that he wasn’t a man at all; that his ‘natural’ predilection was to be in the service of ‘real’ men. Basically, it was now my task to prove to him he wasn’t worthy of being a man—that he was a ‘bitch-boy’ and that was his destiny in life. There are several small steps that can be used to accomplish this goal. One is to subtly belittle his manhood and in Johnny’s case, that would prove easy with his three-and-a-half-inch cock. When we both have erections, we would stand side-by-side and I’d point out the difference between a ‘real’ man and a ‘boy’ like him. I have a magazine with photos of nothing but men with huge cocks. I made sure he viewed every page and every cock and point out the differences between them and him. Many men link the size of their penis to their masculinity. When they don’t quite ‘measure-up’ to other men it disturbs them. I ensure the boy knows and understands he doesn’t measure-up to real men. I would gently caress and fondle the boy while he looks at the photos. In Johnny’s case, the Viagra was still potent enough for him to easily achieve another erection. I would persuade him that his excitement was due to the thrills he received from staring at the huge cocks. This was an argument boys found difficult to rebut because the proof was in their erections. How I Train My Bitch-Boys Peter had me do a set of fifty sit-ups after he showed me a magazine with pictures of real men and their big cocks. I got a hard-on when I looked at those men—that was undeniable. He pointed out to me that maybe my lack of success with women wasn’t from my technique, but rather my lack of interest. Perhaps I have always been attracted to men, but never came face-to-face with that reality. Peter was teaching me many new things and I loved him for it. It wasn’t too late, he said, to correct my thinking so I could live a more happy and contented life. He was right, I thought. My attraction to women had been a sham my whole life. If I wanted to live a satisfying life I needed to embrace and understand my love for real men. We spent much of the day on his couch kissing and caressing one another. He showed me how he liked to be touched. I eagerly obeyed his instructions. He was right: our closeness and intimacy excited me; my raging hard-on would not diminish at all. My arousal only grew stronger and I began to accept the fact that I was queer, and instead of being ashamed of it—I welcomed it—I loved kissing him—I loved caressing his body—and I absolutely loved the feel of his cock in my hands and mouth. Peter was right: I was born to satisfy a real man’s desires. I looked at the clock and decided to put my plan into action. Timing was critical—one mistake now could jeopardize my hard work. I hadn’t allowed Johnny to orgasm since that morning. To say he was ready now would be an understatement. I myself was still recovering from a blow-job he had pleaded with me to allow him to give me. I stood near the bench and spread my legs. I had Johnny kneel directly between my legs. It was time to teach him the fine art of analingous. First I had him kiss and lick my balls. Then told him to take my ball sac into his mouth—it barely fit. I told him to keep his tongue moving on my balls. He was an excellent student. Then I had him lick me between my anus and perineum. His tongue, like his cock, was rather small so he had to literally press his nose and mouth against my asshole for maximum effect. When I told him to curl his tongue and push it inside my asshole he did not hesitate. This boy was golden, I thought. I had him tongue-fuck my asshole while he caressed my penis and balls. My prick became stiff. As much as I loved the feel of his tongue in my asshole (there would be plenty of opportunities for that later), it was time to move on. I could see him visibly shaking and trembling with built-up lust and passion. “Sweetie,” I said, “are you ready to cum? Do you want to bend over for me? Do you want to feel my cock inside you?” “OH GOD YES PETER—PLEASE FUCK ME PETER—PLEASE STICK IT INSIDE ME AND MAKE ME CUM PETER!!” Peter had me stand then place my hands on the weight-bench. I was bending over for him—I presented my bottom to him. He told me to open my cheeks for him and I immediately pulled them apart for him. I felt the oil on his finger as he pushed it inside me. My body jerked with excitement. “Take hold of my cock and put it inside you!” he ordered. His words thrilled me. I grasped his cock and aimed it at my hole. When his cockhead was pressing against my anus my natural instinct was to push back on it—to get it inside me—I wanted to be impaled on his magnificent cock. His thrust took my breath away. His cock was all the way inside me—I felt his pubic hairs on my cheeks. I relaxed my sphincter and held onto the bench. He pumped his cock in-and-out of me. The pressure in my balls was excruciatingly delicious. I knew this was going to be another fantastic orgasm. When his cockhead began bumping against my prostate I would have exploded if the strap hadn’t been firmly tied around my nut-sack. “Do you want to cum, baby? Do you love me, sweetie?” he asked. Suddenly I felt him unfasten the strap—he began stroking my cock. “PLEASE MAKE ME CUM PETER—PLEASE MAKE ME CUM!!” The feeling started deep in my balls. My body shook as his cock rammed into my ass. I violently pushed back to meet his every stroke. My mind was gone—nothing mattered but the cock in my ass. “OH-GOD-OH-GOD—OOOHHHHHHHHH—I LOVE YOU PETER—I LOVE YOU PETER—I LOVE YOU PETER!!” My cum exploded from my balls and shot wads of semen on the bench and floor. Peter cried out and filled my rectum with load-after-load of hot cum. Him cumming in my ass prolonged my orgasm. A primal scream bellowed from my throat—this was the best orgasm yet. This was the promise of my future. Every orgasm better than the last…. I don’t know how long they had been standing in the open doorway watching us. All I knew for sure was that my old life was over—good riddance—and a completely new and wonderful life was beginning. Greg and Amy opened the door and yelled “Surprise”—I still laugh at that. I’d told them to arrive at exactly seven—open the door and yell. I don’t think Johnny even heard them. The timing was perfect: Johnny was spewing cum everywhere screaming how much he loved me. They witnessed me stiffen then shoot my cum into his ass. It was perfect! Greg lost his cool and shouted obscenities at us. He demanded Johnny move out of his apartment immediately. He told Johnny he didn’t have a job anymore, and don’t ever use his old job or the people he knew as references. There would be no need for that anyway. Johnny was my bitch-boy now. The following day we moved his things into my place. He belongs to me 24-hours-a-day, 7-days-a-week. He would never work again. EPILOGUE: Johnny has been my bitch-boy over a year now. His ‘education’ continues—training a bitch-boy is an on-going process. I was successful, as usual, in erasing his ego, pride and identity. He is totally dependent on me for every little thing in his life. He’s an excellent bitch-boy, maybe the best I’ve ever trained. His only interest is in obeying and pleasing me so I will allow him to orgasm. Six months ago I decided to make him my sissy-boy. He’s so pretty in his panties and lingerie the intensity of my orgasms actually increased. Amy moved in with Greg and they are frequent visitors. Amy loves to ridicule Johnny in his panties while he sucks Greg’s cock. I then have Johnny eat Amy’s asshole while Greg fucks her. They love it when I deny Johnny’s orgasm and he begs and pleads like the sissy that he is. A pretty boy just moved in next door to us. I have befriended him. He’s alone in the city and I think I should offer him my guidance—besides, I get an erection whenever I‘m near him. There is a fairly large community of men like me in the city we live. I have been offered money for Johnny. Everyone is impressed with the way I trained him. There is a close-knit community of Arab men, as well. One of them offered me a huge sum of money for Johnny. If things work out the way I want with the neighbor boy, I will sell Johnny to the Arab. I know for a fact the Arab’s training methods are much harsher than mine, but why should that concern me?