****** Creating Mr. .Wrong ******
                           Provided By: BDSM_Library
                              www.bdsmlibrary.com



Synopsis: Paul finds Mister Right, starts experimenting and soon his lover
turns into a monster
Creating Mr. Wrong
by 2nn

Not for minors! If you are not an adult, stop reading and go elsewhere
now! If BDSM, bondage, sexual slavery and homosexuality offends you,
please stop reading. Please keep in mind that this story is a work of
FICTION; nothing more.

Chapter 1: Meeting Mr. Right
Paul turned off his special PC, slipped on his comfortable loafers and
stood up. He said goodbye to the others and walked out. He didn't wave
or salute and he used his foot to gently nudge the door open. Paul
didn't have any arms. A small, slender - some might even say petite -
and attractive young man of twenty-two, with black hair and large brown
eyes, Paul had been born without arms. As a consequence he had become
extremely adept in using his feet for everything. So much so that he was
able to live completely unassisted and hold a regular job. It might not
be the most interesting job in the world - he did telephone surveys for
a ratings bureau - but it was steady, paid enough and he had very good
colleagues.

As he left the office and headed down the street, Paul felt quite good
except for one thing: he was desperately horny and not only that; he
really needed a boyfriend again. Being armless limited the attention of
potential lovers he had found; potentially interested ones were often at
a loss as to how to hook up with him, as if asking some standard lame
question about the weather or such somehow became harder because he had
no arms. Being gay did not help this situation in the slightest he had
found; rather the opposite. Well, there was the exception of the
perverts who wanted him exactly because he had no arms, but Paul had
tried that kind of guy twice and both had been failures. No, what he
needed was a good-looking guy who would treat him right. And take care
of his outrageously needy cock. God, he needed to get laid!

Exciting the subway near his apartment, his mind was still occupied with
his need and, having spent better part of the trip fantasizing about a
really hot Latino guy standing ten feet away; his cock was practically
full mast. He was so preoccupied with his fantasy that he walked right
into another guy. The other guy turned out to be much larger than Paul
and although his back was turned, his footing was much better so it was
Paul who fell down.

The man turned around in a flash and saw Paul on the ground and instead
of worrying about how to help the poor armless cripple, he simply
grabbed Paul's torso firmly and stood him up quickly. So quickly in fact
that Paul had no time to make get a proper footing once upright and so
he stumbled slightly - again - this time with the effect of pressing his
body against the other man's. This included pressing his erection
against the other man's thigh. The man noticed; a barely audible gasp
escaping him as his eyes widened imperceptibly. Paul was deeply
embarrassed and opened his mouth to apologize or explain or just
stammer, when the man turned ever so slightly so that his own crotch now
pressed against Paul's thigh. In the short second that passed before the
man stepped away to maintain normal - proper? - distance, Paul clearly
felt the other man's erection growing fast.

Paul felt at a loss, bewildered. He had no idea what to do next. The man
was quite attractive: tall, broad shouldered, big and strong hands,
squarish jaw and friendly blue eyes. His hair was brown with a dash of
grey. Paul, who had never made his homosexuality a secret and who had
had his fair share of lovers in spite of his missing arms, had a
definite thing for older guys and this guy fit the bill perfectly, being
perhaps fifteen years his senior. Tall, strong and muscular and at the
same time friendly looking. Paul wasn't exactly submissive and had
certainly never played any kind of bondage games, but he did like for
his lovers to be big and strong and of the take charge type; perhaps
even slightly dominant. And this guy looked...

Paul snapped out of his sexual fantasy to find himself in a situation
which had just gone from awkward to outright embarrassing. But before he
could open his mouth and make things even worse, the man spoke: "Want to
grab a cup of coffee or something?" He looked embarrassed, unsure of
whether he was doing the right thing, but Paul loved him for it and
jumped at the opportunity: "Yes please!" he almost shouted and felt
himself blush. But this time the guy saved him by smiling broadly,
putting a hand lightly on his shoulder and saying: "Good. Know a place
around here?" Just before Paul opened his mouth to reply the man
injected: "I'm Richard by the way. Pleased to meet you." And after a
slight pause he glanced down and remarked softly: "Surprisingly
pleased." Paul couldn't help laughing a little and smiled warmly as he
replied: "I'm Paul and as you know I'm also pleased to meet you." This
set them both laughing like loons and just like that the tension had
melted away.

Paul knew a place nearby, "The Plantation", which was an upscale coffee
joint that doubled as a restaurant of sorts. It was cozy, had
semi-private booths, soft seats, soft lightning and a very...sensual
atmosphere. One of his co-workers had shown it to him once and he had
wanted to take a date there ever since. And this was a date; of that he
had no doubt.

The man, Richard, looked at him with discrete interest, but interest
nonetheless and Paul had given up all pretenses and checked Richard out
openly. The more he looked, the better he liked what he saw. He was big
and handsome and obviously well groomed. His clothing was discrete, but
obviously expensive. And there was something about his walk which Paul
at first couldn't quite place. Then it dawned on him that the guy had to
be a former elite athlete of some sort. His movements were simply so...
confident. Like those of a star athlete, or at least a former star
athlete. Again Paul felt how his pants were suddenly too tight by far
and again he felt hot and bothered. He really needed to get himself
under control so that he wouldn't come across as too desperate. He found
himself wishing fervently for it to work.

He needn't have worried. From the second they sat down the date went
perfectly. Richard turned out to be the perfect gentleman, without
seeming overly helpful in any way. He helped Paul with his jacket and
pulled out his chair and making it seem perfectly natural. He asked up
front about his arms and the asked no more question on that subject at
all. He was charming, intelligent, helpful in all the right ways and so
desperately sexy that Paul had real trouble getting his own mind off the
insistent erection in his pants.

Richard was a doctor; a plastic surgeon with his own very successful
practice and was obviously well off. Just as Paul had guessed he was
fifteen years his senior and surprisingly he had no unwelcome baggage.
He was unmarried, discretely but openly gay with no ex-wives or such in
his past. He was perfect and so was his sense of timing. When they had
chatted for more than three hours and all the immediate subjects had
been touched upon, he casually asked: "Want to come back to my place for
a bite to eat?" Paul practically shouted with eager: "Yes!" and then
instantly became embarrassed as his forwardness. Richard took it in
stride and simply smiled pleasantly and discretely ran his hand up
Paul's thigh, briefly lingering on his erection and said: "Good. I would
like that very much." Paul felt himself go warm all over and the feeling
definitely didn't go diminish as Richard helped him get his jacket on
and held the door for him on the way out.

Richard's car turned out to be a giant BMW, with leather seats that were
better than anything Paul had ever sat in before, a sound system inside
which would made any audiophile envious and an acceleration which made
Paul nearly giddy.

Richard's place turned out to match the car. It was an apartment near
the very top of the city's tallest building. They arrived by elevator,
which could only stop at that floor if Richard allowed it to. The inside
of the apartment was probably just as perfect as everything else, but
Paul didn't have time for that as he exited the elevator. He was too
preoccupied with turning around towards Richard to tell him how much he
wanted him. Only Richard beat him to it; he snatched Paul's jacket off,
grabbed him around his shoulders and pressed his mouth to Paul's in a
passionate kiss.

After that it was a blur. Pretty soon all of their clothes were in a
pile right outside the elevator door and Richard carried Paul in his
strong arms, as if he weighed nothing at all, on a short trip ending in
the bedroom. The strong man lifting Paul made him not only horny, but
made him feel special somehow.

As for the lovemaking, it was amazing if also a bit embarrassing at
first. Paul was quite simply so needy that he came at once. Richard had
only just laid him down on the bed and begun kissing him. The second he
closed his big hand around Paul's excited member, Paul came, his back
arching up as he actually screamed with pleasure; something he had never
done before. When he had come down afterwards - after a whole lot of
aftershocks, moaning and writhing - he was acutely embarrassed. But as
he opened his mouth to apologize or whatever he was going to do, Richard
stopped him with a gently kiss and a soft: "Hush baby" after which he
wiped them dry with a towel he had somehow produced.

Then he started again; kissing, fondling, rubbing and masturbating Paul
back to life. He then slipped on a condom, lubed both himself and Paul
up and lifted his petite lover up and deposited him gently on his own
large and very, very hard cock. Richard sat on his legs and Paul was
impaled gently, his back to Richard but constantly subjected to his
kissing and fondling, as Richard maintained a very firm and
knowledgeable grip on his soon very firm erection. Oh God, it was good!
Fantastic! They soon found a rhythm and again Paul screamed as he came.

Sated and feeling quite happy, Paul snuggled up to his lover, making a
point of keeping him in his ass as the other man grew flaccid, flexing
his ass as best he could and extracting little moans from him along the
way. After he had finally slipped out, Paul pushed his back into
Richard's chest and they spooned for a good long while, slumbering a
little.

Then the little minx in Paul woke and he asked Richard, turning his head
slightly: "Are you clean?" Richard was a short second answering, but
when he did it was in the affirmative. Would he like to see the letter
from the VD-clinic? Paul snickered at little and said that it was
alright. Then he told Richard that he too was clean and had in fact been
going without sex for more than six months now. When Richard started to
react to this, Paul simply twisted himself in a knot of sorts and soon
he had his head between Richard's thighs, burrowing up from beneath
until he had the big man moaning with pleasure. Looking up and catching
Richard's eye, he did his party piece and slid forward until he held
Richard in his throat, massaging Richard with his spasming muscles.
Richard's amazed look right before Paul withdrew so that he could
breathe again, made Paul so hard he got tangled in the sheets. Not for
long though as Richard simply reached down, grabbed his thighs and
twisted him around until they were in a perfect sixty-nine. As Paul
screamed out in orgasmic joy for the third time in an hour, his mouth
producing the sounds around Richard's cock, Paul thought to himself that
he simply couldn't remember ever having such great sex.

The rest of the evening was much the same, only a great deal more
relaxed. They ate a leisurely meal in Richard's enormous and luxurious
kitchen after which he threw Paul over a black marble kitchen table and
fucked him. Having already cum three times, the cum stain Paul deposited
on the cabinet wasn't too big.

Richard produced two house coats, one of which Paul nearly disappeared
in, and they sat in a truly fantastic leather couch, enjoying the view
at night over the city as they talked. With every word Paul enjoyed
himself more and more and found himself falling in love with the big
man. It was a giddy feeling and one it had been a long time since he had
felt something so keenly; so clearly. In fact he couldn't remember
feeling quite like this since high school when he had had a very strong
- and completely unrequited - crush on his math teacher. This time,
however, Richard showed all the signs of reciprocating his feelings and
gradually the talking gave way to cuddling and kissing; necking and
fondling until Richard removed both of their house coats, pushed Paul
onto his back and entered him while holding his member firmly in his
hand. Never breaking eye contact, they made love for what seemed like
forever, Richard being in complete control the whole way. When he came
too close, he pulled back and when Paul came too close, he stopped
manipulating his member until Paul - feeling more than a little like a
bitch in heat - actually whined and begged for his lover to continue.
When Paul came for the fourth time that evening he no longer held back
and simply screamed full force, something he had never done before.
Afterwards he was utterly spent.

When Richard picked him up he was practically asleep and he simply
nodded a little as Richard tucked him under sheets and didn't register
Richard going to bed at all.

The next morning Paul woke up feeling fantastic; relaxed and refreshed
and on top of the world. He felt no surprise at the luxurious
surroundings, but rather felt completely at ease. Turning around he
found Richard lying awake and looking at him. Richard smiled and softly
spoke: "morning gorgeous", making Paul blush with pleasure as he smiled
widely. He would have loved making love in the bed, but both of them
really had to pee, so soon he found himself in the bathroom with
Richard. Having flushed Richard smiled wickedly and asked Paul: "Want to
take a shower?"

Paul had never tried fucking in a shower, but he liked it at once. No,
he loved it! Richard's shower stall not only had an overhead shower, but
had spray nozzles installed on three of the four sides of the stall.
Soon he was lifted up and deposited on Richard's cock. He then wrapped
his legs around his big lover and moaned as Richard began manipulating
his cock. Richard pushed him up against the glass door as he fucked him
and here Paul again screamed with pleasure as hot water hit him from
almost all directions.

At work the comments came almost immediately. His colleagues had no
trouble seeing that he had gotten laid the night before or that he had
developed a crush on whoever he had been with. Paul felt all warm inside
when he thought about the night before and even warmer when he thought
about the date they had that very same night. Maybe this was the one.
Maybe Richard would turn out to be his lover for life. It seemed to Paul
that it was a very old fashioned way to think about such things, but he
found himself constantly picturing them as a couple, hoping it would be
so.

A month later his wish had effectively come through. He hadn't moved in
with Richard yet, but the movers would come in three days and what
little stuff he had that he wanted to keep would be moved over to
Richard's place while the rest - all of the furniture for example -
would be given away to charity. It had been almost three weeks since he
had slept in his own bed and his old apartment didn't even feel like
home anymore.

Things had moved amazingly fast, but Paul wanted them to. He was madly
in love with Richard and had been so ever since their second date.
Richard had actually picked him up at work, showing himself to all of
Paul's co-workers, which could be a risky move for a gay man even in the
twenty-first century. Not only had he picked him up, he had actually
kissed Paul openly before leading a more than little befuddled Paul to
his car and driving him off while a small flock of Paul's colleagues had
stood by, gaping with surprise. Richard continued this behavior not only
that evening, openly displaying his affections for Paul at a pricey
restaurant, and Paul had been swept off his feet. He had cried with
emotion after their morning lovemaking the next day, scared somehow at
how hard he had fallen for the older man, but Richard had simply stated
that he loved Paul and wanted him to be his boyfriend - at first. He
thought they should give it a little time, but as he felt now he wanted
Paul to be his mate, his husband or wife or whatever the hell you wanted
to call it. This had only made Paul cry even harder with happiness.

There had been no stops in Richard's show of affection for Paul, no
hiccups, no missteps. At all times and to everyone he openly declared
them a couple and his behavior matched his words perfectly. After a
month they were referred to as a couple by Paul's co-workers and -
amazingly - treated in much the same way married couples were in that
context. It was as if everyone else thought they belonged together too.

For Paul those first six months were unreal; dreamlike. He was madly in
love and happier than he had ever been before; happier than he had even
thought possible, but he couldn't understand how Richard could feel the
same and he thought it completely improbable that world around him
seemingly accepted it too; thought it natural. The world, usually so
homophobic in so many ways, big and small, seemed to recognize that he
and Richard belonged together. Paul couldn't believe it, thought it too
good to be true. Nonetheless he was deeply, truly and madly in love and
had never been happier.

Chapter 2: Sowing the seeds for Mr. Wrong
Almost three years had passed since Paul had moved in with Richard, or
Mr. Right as he referred to him in front of his co-workers, and Paul was
no less in love with the man now than he had been after their second
date.

They lived together in Richard's luxurious apartment, which now sported
every conceivable and inconceivable modification to make life easier for
the armless Paul. At first he had actually resisted a little, not
wanting to be burden for Richard, but he had of course given in when it
turned out - as it always did - that Richard wanted the modifications
because he loved Paul.

Paul had kept his job with Richard's encouragement. His measly wage
didn't add much to the couple's purse, but it made Paul feel less
dependent on Richard and it enabled Paul to maintain a normal life, with
co-workers and friends and an everyday routine.

At home their relationship remained very close in every way. They were
each other's confidant while at the same time maintaining a close
physical relationship. Very physical and very, very erotic. Apart from
when one of them was feeling sick, and sometimes even then, Paul
couldn't remember a single day - not a single day! - when he hadn't had
an orgasm since moving in with Richard. At least one orgasm, that was.
Most days it was more like at least two and sometimes more or even many
more: The morning fuck, either in bed or in the shower, was a tradition
and provided both with a perfect start to the day. When they made dinner
together in the evening, Paul mostly just keeping Richard company in the
kitchen, Richard had developed a habit of "forcing" Paul to cum;
masturbating him "against his will" as they jokingly called it.

The first time it had happened, Paul had been the one instigating it. He
had been outrageously horny the whole day and he had been pressing
against Richard at every opportunity he got, rubbing his crotch against
him and daring him to come and take him. Richard had been preoccupied
with some pressing things around the apartment and had been slightly
annoyed but had taken it mostly in stride. Paul had been both bored and
horny and this behavior had only fuelled his need, finally calling after
Richard twice to "come and rape me you big stud! You bitch needs a good
fucking!" Richard had obviously been a bit shocked at this, but had
laughed it off.

Now Richard's chores were finally done, but in the meantime Paul had
become bored and had taken a comfortable seat, watching TV. Now Richard
came on to him, kneeling down on the couch so that he towered above the
sitting Paul, his crotch at the level of Paul's eyes. Paul had been a
little annoyed at being ignored for so long, but he was still horny so
he said: "Well stud? Come to rape me?" Suddenly Richard's eyes had
acquired a slightly alarming glint when he looked at Paul, making Paul a
little nervous. However, as always with Paul, Richard's attention had a
way of making him horny and hard. That evening had been no exception and
when Richard had seen the bulge in Paul's pants he had smiled and
grabbed that bulge while smiling wickedly: "Horny are we?" he had asked
Paul with mock menace in his voice, "Let's get rid of that nasty bulge,
shall we?" he continued. Paul suddenly felt not only trapped and a
little humiliated, not in the least as feisty as his previous comments.
He had also felt very horny as is being treated this way, but he felt he
had to object, even if he had led up to this: "Look Richard, this is
uncool. Don't treat me like a...". He didn't get any further, ending the
sentence with a gasp as Richard, smiling even more broadly now,
extracted Paul's member with a swift and somewhat casual move. Usually
Richard was the most considerate of lovers, always kissing and fondling
gently before taking any further action, but now he simply knelt on the
couch with Paul's cock in his hands and did nothing but manipulate it
while looking Paul straight in the eye, still sporting that wicked grin.
It was annoying. It was humiliating. It was demeaning. It was so fucking
exciting that Paul only managed a weak moan as he opened his mouth to
object. A weak moan first; then a scram of surprise as he came like a
cannon in Richard's firm but gentle hands.

Afterwards Paul tried to talk about it; to reprimand Richard, to tell
him how humiliating it had been - even if he had been the one starting
it - but Richard had infuriatingly simply turned it back on Paul. With
ridiculous ease he made Paul admit just how horny he had found the
situation and how much he enjoyed Richard taking charge without having a
say for himself.

That moment had been a key in their relationship and after three years
of extremely happy life as couple, Paul had come to realize that it was
probably what had saved them from the boredom that hit so many others.

Paul had always been unwilling to play the passive one, the submissive
one or as he called it "the weak one" in the relationships he had been
in before. Having no arms the role was all too natural to fall into and
Paul didn't want to be anybody's "poor little cripple". He wanted to be
his own man and he had succeeded. But Richard was different. Yes, he was
considerate of Paul's handicap, but he wasn't all over him, didn't go
out of his way to help Paul with every little thing. Instead he made the
help he gave Paul seem perfectly natural; simply a part of their
relationship. This had of course been the key to allowing Paul let down
his guard. Let down his guard and admit to himself that he actually was
a little submissive; that he liked his lover to take charge, set the
pace and perhaps even boss him around a little. He liked it when Richard
handled him in this way. Loved it in fact.

That first "unwilling" hand-job on the couch had been the starting point
for their games. At first it was a game played at home. Richard would
corner Paul at moments when no sexual tension was in the air and
masturbate him over heartfelt but weak protests and make him scream his
orgasms out.

Then it moved outside. The first time it caught Paul by complete
surprise - again. They were going to the opera and were both dressed
very sharply. Richard had just parked the car in the parking complex
just opposite the opera house. It was full of people, but where Richard
had parked it was for some reason empty of people, the nearest couple
some fifty yards away. Paul just managed to spot the mischievous look in
Richard's eye and then he was on him. With no words of any kind he
pressed Paul against a wall and with a practiced move had Paul's cock
out and in his hands in a second. They were out in the open and all it
would take for them to be spotted was for the nearest couple to turn
their heads. Paul was horrified. Horrified and suddenly very, very
excited. He tried hissing "no" to Richard but the sound became a
strangled moan and in absolutely no time he was on his way to a fabulous
orgasm. Eyes nearly popping out of his face with excitement and surprise
he shot his load nearly eight feet out on the concrete floor, past
Richard who just managed to step aside in time. As Paul looked at his
lover in amazement, Richard simply wiped his hands in Paul's underwear
and arranged his clothing properly. He then sealed his utterly
flabbergasted lover's mouth with a kiss and led him inside to enjoy the
opera.

Paul was in shock during the entire opera, both at Richard's actions and
at his own obvious excitement at being treated like that. He heard only
fragments of the opera and noticed very little but Richard's presence.
At the break, when they both stood in the grand hall sipping white wine
- Richard holding the glass to Paul's lips - Paul waited until no one
was close and asked: "What are you doing Richard? We could have been
spotted! What if we had been spotted?" Richard, his eyes sparkling with
mischief, chuckled maddeningly taking his time. Then he finally replied:
"I am giving you what you really want, while enjoying myself
enormously". Paul was outraged (and a little excited as well). No one
was going to tell him what he really wanted or needed, but when he said
this to Richard, his voice almost trembling with his outrage, all he got
was another round of derisive laughter: "Don't be coy honey", Richard
shot back, sounding a little annoyed now, "You got hard in a real hurry
and it's a long time since I've seen you cum so hard and fast". Paul
opened his mouth, but was cut off by Richard who continued: "It's the
same thing as when I corner you at home: You profess to hate it, yet you
cum so hard and fast it almost defies belief. Admit Paul; you like being
taken. You like being forced". Paul opened his mouth to object, but
caught the look in Richard's eye. He didn't look smug or superior or
anything like that. He was the same old Richard and he actually meant
what he said.

This realization made Paul think hard about it for the first time. Hard
and long. He didn't hear a single word of the rest of the opera; simply
stealing furtive glances at his love. When the opera finished and they
had returned to the car, sitting comfortably enveloped in its silent
luxury, he turned to Richard and said: "I'm sorry Richard. You are
right; I do love it when you force me, take me by surprise. It's
just..." he faltered, unsure of how to continue. Richard, God how Paul
loved him, simply sat and let him finish: "I'm still used to coping on
my own, being independent. It's hard to admit that I like it when you...
dominate me, or whatever it is that you do, but I do like it, it's just
... so new". Paul looked up to see Richard smiling a broad and loving
smile at him, looking every bit the man he loved. Before Paul had the
chance to say anything else, Richard leaned over and kissed him deeply
and passionately and for a long, long time leaving his lover slightly
dazed.

The daze didn't last for too long as Richard immediately began
exploiting his lover's newfound acceptance of his behavior. In a strong,
but somewhat awkward move, he lifted Paul up, out of the seat and
deposited him on the backseat of the car. Then he followed after and
soon Paul gaped in surprise as Richard pulled both of their pants down,
turned Paul around, placing his upper body against the backseat so that
he had his head almost against the rear window, and entered him from
behind. Paul was shocked: "Please Richard! We'll be seen... we can't...,
it's...", the rest was lost in a moan as Richard closed his hand around
his cock. The fuck was furious, fast paced and very hard, insistent and
almost brutal, and Paul was so excited that he had trouble keeping it
together. He moaned and screamed as his lover manipulated every little
inch of him and when an elderly couple stopped and looked in through the
window at him, shock painted on both their faces, he simply keened with
embarrassed lust, with humiliated passion, as he came like a cannon,
Richard joining him a second later, flooding his ass with cum.

The ride home felt unreal to Paul. Not only had he finally admitted his
excitement at letting Richard "force" him, but he had also realized for
the first time that he was an exhibitionist; that he got off at the risk
of being spotted as well as the actual fact of getting spotted.

Now Richard seemed determined to push Paul's limits, so Richard let him
sit in the front seat, cum still leaking from his ass, with his pants
pulled all the way down around his ankles, Richard using every available
moment to masturbate him and keeping him hard. The ride home was fairly
long, perhaps three quarters of an hour, and Richard soon had him hard
again. The fact that he was so excited so soon after a massive orgasm
spoke volumes about his newfound sexual nature. Paul noticed little
during that long trip, but right before he came again, he did notice a
woman looking in through the side window of the car. From where she
stood she wasn't able to see Richard, but she looked straight at Paul
who had his mouth open in a moan. The car was stopped for a red light in
the center of town. It was late and no pedestrians passed in front of
them as they waited. In fact the intersection was completely empty; no
cars in front and none behind. Paul, who could not tear his eyes away
from the woman, heard Richard chuckle in the background as he noticed
the woman.

The light changed to green but the car didn't move. The woman looked to
be in her fifties and was dressed very elegantly in designer boots and a
long, black leather coat. She was walking two large dogs, Dobermans by
the look, but both were occupied with sniffing a lamppost. As Paul sat
moaning, Richard manipulating his cock in plain view, the woman betrayed
no shock or revulsion at all. She had been surprised when first spotting
him, but now she just looked very interested. Interested and excited.
Her eyes seemed to shine and her lips were moist; slightly parted as her
tongue flicked out to wet them. She stole sideways glances in both
direction to be sure no one was around and then she parted her long
coat, lifted up her skirt and slipped her hand inside her black silk
panties and began masturbating. Richard took the cue perfectly and
rolled down the passenger side window and soon the only three sounds
filling the world were the discrete purring of the BMW and the not so
discrete rhythmic moaning of Paul and the woman. With the window open
the double excitement increased dramatically and to his immense
embarrassment Paul found that he was unable to stop himself from keening
with arousal, a sound matched by the pulsating, high and almost girlish
whining now coming from the woman. Paul came first, Richard expertly
directing his shot of cum out the window so that he actually hit the
woman's leather coat. This triggered the woman who came with a low
scream of passion and had to support herself on the roof of the car as
the aftershocks hit her.

When she had come down, she bent down slightly; leaning in the window as
she wiped Paul's cum off her jacket with her free hand and licked her
fingers clean. She smiled contentedly at first Paul then Richard and
whispered simply: "Thank you", before standing up and walking away with
her dogs as if nothing had happened.

There had been no one around to see what had happened and to Paul it
took on a surreal quality as Richard too drove on as if nothing untoward
had taken place. Had it not been for the fact that Paul's pants were
around his ankles, his cock felt deliciously overworked and that he sat
in a puddle of Richard's cum he would have felt like nothing had
happened at all.

When Richard parked the car in the parking basement, Paul thought that
the evening's shenanigans were over, but this proved to be not quite the
case. Richard helped Paul out of the car, but didn't pull up his pants.
In fact he took his sweet time wiping the cum of Paul's seat as Paul
stood exposed, out in the open with his ass bare for all to see. Paul,
not quite so relaxed with this new state of affairs, stood by imploring
Richard to please pull up his pants or someone might see them. Richard
didn't even look at him and infuriatingly Paul found himself go half
mast in spite of three orgasms in the last hours. When Richard finally
came back to Paul after first meticulously depositing the rag he had
used in a garbage can far, far away from the car, the let-up Paul had
been expecting was not forthcoming. Instead Richard smiled at Paul and
grabbed his cock. Then he turned around and using his cock as a leash of
sorts led the futilely protesting Paul towards the elevator. Shuffling
helplessly behind his lover, Paul was terrified of being spotted and
continuously tried to make Richard relent, but to no avail. No avail at
all.

Even inside the elevator Richard let Paul stand with his pants around
his ankles, completely ignoring his now fuming companion. Only inside
the apartment did he acknowledge Paul's presence, but not in a way Paul
had expected. Paul had expected the game to stop; for his pants to be
pulled up or off and normalcy restored. Not so, as Richard instead
grabbed Paul by the shoulder, holding on to the fabric of his jacket,
and stepped in the crook of Paul's knee, forcing him down on his knees.
Paul only just had time to open his mouth in protest when Richard filled
it completely with his own extremely excited cock. Finally! Even though
he hadn't realized it himself, Paul had been waiting for this moment,
hoping for it all along; the moment when he would be "forced" to blow
Richard, the domineering bastard who now excited him more than ever.

Chapter 3: Building Mr. Wrong
It was a door that once opened, would remain open. Richard certainly
didn't display any interest in abandoning it and Paul couldn't go back
even if he sometimes told himself that things were going a little too
far. Once Richard had his cock out he was lost; the more exposed, the
better.

Richard took the game to new levels almost weekly. At first it was
masturbating Paul in the open at night. Then they moved to fucking and
on to Paul being forced to his knees after being jerked off. It started
at night with a low exposure risk, but soon it changed to ever more
dangerous hours. Richard managed the most fantastic things; the crowning
achievement being when he masturbated Paul in broad daylight as they
were taking a Sunday stroll ending with Paul depositing his massive load
on the trunk lid of a police car with two officers sitting inside with
their backs turned, drinking coffee, completely unaware of what was
going on.

At home the "assaults" gradually displaced their more regular,
"vanilla", sex, with the exception of the morning shower sex which both
enjoyed immensely. It happened with Paul's approval, even if he never
said it explicitly to Richard. The fact of the matter was that the new
state of things was just so amazing and arousing, so erotic, so
exciting! He never knew when Richard might pounce on him now or what he
would do to him or be "forced" to do. As a consequence Paul now walked
around in a constant haze of excitement, seemingly always semi-erect or
worse.

Richard threw him down on the floor right inside the elevator door,
literally ripping off his clothes before fucking him with such fury and
passion that Paul managed to cum twice before Richard came.

In a crowded subway train Richard managed to force Paul into a corner
and make him blow him while a group of teenage girls first gaped, then
tittered as Richard smiled at them while flooding Paul's mouth. No one
else on the train seemed to notice, but Paul spotted two of the girls
discretely fondling each other's asses on the way out of the train.

Blindfolding him early one Sunday morning, Richard subjected Paul to a
day-long series of unseen, but definitely not unfelt, assaults on his
naked lover until Paul early in the evening, after having lost count
around the twelfth orgasm, begged Richard to stop.

At a public concert in the park, Richard managed to slit the crotch of
Paul's jeans open with a pair of scissors and deposit him on his cock,
riding Paul standing up in the middle of a crowd of jeering concert
goers. Lifted up among the many others and jerked up and down as Richard
moved towards an orgasm Paul had real trouble keeping himself from
moaning with passion even if Richard this time kept his hands off Paul's
cock altogether. When Richard did cum, he simply lifted Paul off his
cock, wiped it off in Paul's jeans and zipped up, continuing as if
nothing had happened. Paul on the other hand spent the entire concert
blushing and looking around to see if anyone had spotted them. His
blushing didn't go away when Richard took him over to the line of bushes
in the park that acted as unofficial concert urinal. Here, while pissing
as expected, he took out Paul's member too and jerked him off in plain
view of all the other men watching. Some wrinkled their noses, but the
four or five closest all smiled and showered Paul with humorous remarks.

And on and on it went. Amazingly they still remained close, talking to
each other about everything, never letting their much increased sex life
take over completely. Most amazing of all, to Paul at least, was that
Richard never tried to move his sexual dominance over into their
"regular" life. He was still the same old, considerate Richard.

That, however, changed, subtly at first, as they explored the ferocious
sexuality together.

One Sunday evening after yet another furious fuck, they both sat naked
in front of the laptop. Richard occasionally stroked Paul's cock
absently and Paul snuggled up against his strong lover. They were
looking at various porn images and films when they stumbled upon the
image which would change everything eventually. It was an image of a
really attractive young man in light bondage. He was completely naked
and his arms were bound behind his back, pulled so far back it almost
created the illusion that he had no arms. On his feet was a pair of
black stilettos heels, very high, perhaps six inches. They were shiny
and had a thin strap encircling the young man's ankles. He looked
amazing; sexy and helpless at the same time, but the real power of the
image lay in those heels, forcing him to stand on his toes, stretching
his legs sexily and pushing his pelvis slightly forward.

Both Paul and Richard had of course seen men in women's clothing,
including shoes, before but none of these images had had the same power
as this one. It wasn't so much the fact that the man looked a little -
very little - like Paul, or the fact that he appeared almost armless in
the image. It was the heels and what they did to his body posture. It
was as if both for the first time actually noticed these effects.

Without speaking a word they turned towards each other. Paul had felt
himself grow in Richard's hand and now he was rock hard. Speaking oddly
haltingly and with a voice that was a little choked, Paul said: "Can I
have a pair of shoes like that. Please?" Richard looked at him with some
surprise at the emotion, but was clearly excited by the idea and agreed
with a tiny nod. Fifteen minutes later Richard had found a pair of shoes
of the same kind as young man's but much better looking and of much
better quality in a web shop. Paul wanted to object to Richard buying a
pair of designer shoes at a completely outrageous price, just to put a
little extra excitement into their already perfect sex life, but stopped
himself before even beginning. He wanted those shoes too; wanted to
prance around in them for Richard; wanted to wear them as Richard filled
his ass with his cum, making his younger lover scream with delight at
the same time.

The upside of buying at an upscale web shop for designer clothes and
shoes was the next day delivery service. That evening, an otherwise
ordinary Monday night, their lovemaking was completely out of control.
From the second the shoe box had been opened till they went to bed at
night - late, very late - Paul had been naked and in heels. It was just
so powerful: The posture, the thing it did for his legs and ass, the
helplessness that followed with their use. Richard couldn't keep either
eyes or hands off Paul and for the first time in his life Paul tried
riding a cock while eating, a more than little disturbing experience.

The shoes were beautiful; black leather with thin five inch heels and a
narrow strap around Paul's ankle. They drove both Richard and Paul into
some sort of frenzy and the following week both hurried home from work
just so that Paul could put them on and Richard could fuck him
senseless. Around Wednesday both of their cocks were getting a little
raw, but somehow this only seemed to make matters more exciting.

After ten days Paul tried counting and was astonished to find that
during that period he had cum a minimum of eight times a day. A minimum
of eight times a day!

The heels were sexy in more ways that just body posture and the slight
helplessness that came from not being able to walk and run normally. For
an armless man like Paul, who could do perform almost all the tasks a
normal man could using his feet, having a pair of heels actually
strapped to his feet so that he couldn't take them off himself, made him
extra helpless. Completely reliant on Richard in fact. Richard made no
secret of just how sexy he thought that was and Paul, who had begun
admitting his own latent submissiveness to himself, reluctantly had to
agree. It was sexy, it was erotic; it was somehow intoxicating that the
man he loved could control him utterly using nothing more complicated
than a pair of sexy shoes. Had Richard been a bastard about it he would
have become nervous, but when not screwing him with frenzied intensity
Richard treated his lover like royalty; wrapping him in soft and warm
blankets, hand-feeding him tenderly, holding his cock when peeing and so
forth. It was as if Richard, when not fucking him, took the opportunity
to act extra caring for Paul, bordering on the over-protective, and it
was obviously part of the attraction for both that he could do so. Paul
became almost like submissive putty in Richard's hands when he was held
tightly after an orgasm and was utterly helpless in his heels.

The games evolved over time. Richard would have Paul "practice" walking
in heels for him; a thin excuse to see his lover prance around sexily in
heels. Light, playful denial came into when Richard would "force" Paul
do act in a special way before touching his cock.

Then Richard moved them outside. At first he simply substituted Paul's
regular loafers for the heels on a little walk on a Sunday night. Paul,
in jeans, a sweater and light jacket, was mortified and objected loudly
as Richard put them on his feet, but he didn't fight him and when they
stood in the elevator Richard simply ignored his objections with an
irritatingly smug smile. The streets were almost deserted. Almost. They
passed a few people as they walked and all noticed, casting meaningful
looks at both of them. Paul spent the whole trip in a state of high
embarrassment (and excitement) hissing at Richard, who simply ignored
him. Ignored him until they stood in front of a big window display,
looking at high-priced kitchenware. He waited until a couple had passed
behind them and then he pounced: in a flash he had Paul's cock out in
the open and before Paul knew it he was moaning as Richard brought him
to a thundering orgasm in less than three minutes. Paul saw his own
surprised, orgasmic face reflected in the window as he deposited a large
splotch of cum on it. Stunned as he was at this turn, Paul became
outright shocked and outraged at what Richard did next - not least
because of his own arousal at the moment: Richard slipped Paul's member
back in his pants, walked him four steps to the corner of the building
and in one smooth move forced Paul to his knees while inserting his own
erect member into Paul's all too eagerly waiting mouth. To his later
regret Paul actually keened with excitement as he sucked Richard for all
he was worth and all he was able to grasp of the world was the pulsating
cock in his mouth.

Later, back home, as they went to bed, Paul berated Richard; it had been
too much, too adventurous, too risky. Smiling easily (and very
annoyingly) Richard dismissed Paul's concerns as ludicrous since his
excitement had been so clear. Besides, as Richard pointed out, they had
done far more risky things, such the stunt with the police car, without
getting caught. And even if they did get caught, so what? To drive his
point home, he grabbed Paul's cock and masturbated it gently for about
ten seconds, bringing Paul to full mast. Then he pulled the blanket up
to Paul's chin, turned his back to Paul and went to sleep. Paul felt
like screaming. Screaming with rage and helpless arousal. Because
Richard was right and had even underplayed just how much the expeditions
turned Paul on. Paul felt trapped by his very own desires and the fact
that his lover, lover in every sense of the word, now not only had him
completely figured out but also used this knowledge made Paul more than
a little nervous; scared in fact. Scared - and horny. So horny that Paul
lay with a very insistent erection, there despite nine orgasms that day,
unable to sleep.

Richard ramped things up a week later by buying a new pair of shoes for
Paul. These made Paul even hornier than the pair he already had. Of
obvious quality the shoes were made from highly polished black leather,
held only Paul's heel and toes, the latter being compressed sexily, but
not uncomfortably, in a very sharp point while leaving most of his foot
exposed. The shoes were petite and elegant and only a very narrow
bridge-like sole connected the pointy toe with the heel. An ultra thin
strap with a tiny buckle secured the shoes to his feet, again rendering
Paul exquisitely helpless. They had very, very thin six inch heels in
the same polished black quality as the shoe itself. Paul took to them
like a duck to water, surprising both Richard and himself by walking in
them perfectly from the second they slipped on.

The purchase again sparked a round of intense sexual activity and Paul
counted a week of no less than at least nine orgasms a day and one where
they were both naked from the moment they walked in the door at night
until they left for work in the morning.

After the first week of desperate frolicking Richard again moved things
a bit up, but this time in a somewhat more subtle way and one which Paul
accepted at once, but didn't really notice until about three weeks after
it had taken effect. After the first week of almost desperate fucking
they resumed a somewhat more normal routine where they actually wore
clothes at home. Somewhere in the transition from frantic, naked
frolicking to normal sexual habits (normal, but hectic) and standard
home wear, Richard managed to get Paul to wear heels at home all the
time, from entering in the evening to going to bed at night. It all
seemed so natural that Paul didn't notice until three weeks later when
he stood idle one evening, suddenly aware that he hadn't helped around
the house that whole time. Instantly guilty he went to Richard to ask
him to take the shoes off him so that he could do his share, be more a
part of what went on at home. Richard smiled sweetly and kissed his
lover, holding him tightly, and said that he liked it like this; that he
really wanted to do the all he could for Paul, following up this with a
very rare remark from him: "I love you Paul". Paul had never been in any
doubt about that fact, not for one second, but Richard was a man who
very rarely said so out loud. Paul, being held tightly by his lover who
not only declared his love for but backed it up with kisses and the
willingness to do things for him, began to cry with happiness. Richard
(that maddeningly perfect man!) of course comforted him, kissing and
caressing him gently until he stopped crying. Then, feeling flooded by a
wave of gratitude, Paul dropped to his knees and used his lips and teeth
to gently extract Richard from his trousers and blow him ever so slowly
until his big lover actually screamed out with orgasmic joy as he came,
flooding Paul's mouth completely. After that it was just the way things
were. Paul now wore heels all the time around the house and was as such
reduced to being the pretty boyfriend who hovered around his lover like
a moth around a flame. A powerful flame.

This game evolved further so that Paul now put on his heels the moment
he stepped out of bed and as such had to be helped with everything. It
came about at Richard's suggestion of course and Paul had had to think
carefully about it, but once accepted it reduced Paul's independence
drastically, even alarmingly. Every aspect of his personal hygiene now
had to be handled by Richard; a development Paul was at first very
reluctant to accept. However, once he had accepted it he found that it
strengthened his natural submissiveness something awful and having
Richard care for his every need, catering to him all the time, made him
feel so very special, so very cherished and valued.

Shaving had always been a pain for Paul, but using a special arrangement
with a fixed electric razor and moving his head instead of the razor he
had always managed. Managed, but always hated the chore. Richard one day
offered a solution. Being a plastic surgeon and used to many aspects of
"beauty maintenance" as he called it, he also had knowledge of hair
removal techniques. Permanent as well as semi-permanent ones. Dismissing
the semi-permanent ones as nonsense, he suggested to Paul a permanent
facial hair removal. A little scared at the prospect of never growing
any kind of facial hair, Paul first drew back to consider. But a day of
consideration brought him to only one conclusion: It was a damned good
idea! He would never have the dexterity in his feet to manage complex
problems with facial hair, like special beard shapes and besides he
wasn't really into facial hair, either for himself or for his lover.

Soon Richard had it all arranged and paid for and only three days later
and after a completely painless procedure Paul emerged from the clinic
of one of Richard's colleagues with an utterly smooth face. He loved the
feeling and the way home was spent leaned in over Richard's crotch
blowing him.

Perhaps he should have seen the next development coming, but he didn't.
He was taken completely by surprise when Richard suggested that they
shave Paul's legs and crotch area - not permanently - to make him smooth
below the waist. And now they were taking that course, why not shave off
all hair beneath the chin? Surprised as he may have been, Paul
nonetheless liked the idea and immediately agreed. Standing in front of
a mirror wearing only his new heels right after Richard had shaved his
body, Paul not only liked the idea; he loved it! Fuck, but he looked
good with a smooth and hairless body! He looked so good he was willing
to chase after his loved for a chance to suck him if need be. There was
no need and soon he had his head pressed into Richard's crotch as both
lay on the heated tile floor of the bathroom. Here Paul again
deepthroated Richard. The look on Richard's face as his cock slid deep
into Paul's throat was so rewarding that Paul actually came on the floor
right there and then. Ok he had been involuntarily humping the small,
furry carpet in the bathroom, but still; it was the look on Richard's
face that pushed him over the edge.

Paul's enchantment with his smooth and hairless body was so strong that
after only three weeks he begged Richard for a permanent hair removal
for all of his body. He didn't want a single, tiny hair below the
eyebrows.

Richard, while obviously enormously attracted to the idea, was the one
who tried to slow things down a little, or rather seemed to do so. Paul
would later review his actions and determine that it was around that
time he first spotted Mr. Wrong in Richard's eyes. He didn't know so at
the time, but this was the first of that evil man he saw. It had been a
certain glint in his eye when he suggested that it might be better to
wait with the hair removal. Only when looking back at it Paul realized
that the way the suggestion had been put forward had only fuelled his
wish for it. Looking back it had been very cleverly done. Scary clever.

But at the time Paul had been unawares and had been pleasantly goosed by
the possessive glint that had come into Richard's eye when they had
talked about it. In any case it had only been a day from talking to
doing and when Paul had once again stood naked and smooth - now
permanently smooth - in the bathroom, the blowjob he had delivered had
been even hornier than the first.

Chapter 4: Mr. Wrong reveals himself
The final push came a few weeks later and at the time Paul actually
thought it had been his own idea. They had been surfing porn, as they
sometimes did together to get their juices up for a new round of sex,
when Richard happened by a picture of a young man with his cock locked
away in a chastity device. The picture was there only for short time
before Richard navigated away, seemingly not interested in it. But Paul
had seen it; seen such a picture for the first time in his life. It had
looked very sexy, even if he wasn't entirely sure that it was for. He
had a pretty good idea, but he wasn't sure so he asked Richard to
navigate back to it. Fuck, it looked sexy! When Richard saw how excited
Paul had become he casually - oh so casually! - asked Paul if he should
buy one for him? Richard didn't seem too interested himself, but Paul
briefly caught that possessive glimpse in his eyes. It had been very
brief and at the time Paul told himself he had imagined it. And Paul
wanted to try that chastity thing out. Did he ever want to try it out!

Only two days later Richard fitted him with the device, a thing made
from clear plastic which held his cock snuggly and securely, gently but
firmly preventing him from getting hard. Which was all that Paul's cock
tried to do from the second it went on. It had been on for all of two
minutes when Paul asked Richard to take it off so that they could fuck
properly. It simply made him so enormously horny that he just had to
cum. Richard smiled sweetly, calmly, at this and said: "No. It's a
chastity device remember? It's there to keep that naughty cock of yours
under control and prevent you from cuming. Now you be a good boy and I
might let you cum later tonight." Then he turned and walked out of the
bedroom and into the living room, leaving Paul wearing only his high
heels and his chastity device.

Paul was dumbstruck. Somehow he hadn't seen this coming, although now
that he thought about it, he couldn't really see how he could have
missed it. Still, that didn't mean that Richard could just do that to
him without warning. He was horny! He needed release! Now! As if to
confirm this, his cock grew so hard - or at least tried to - that it
actually hurt him. Strangely this didn't make his erection go away, but
rather made it a semi-permanent feature. Mincing as quickly as he could
after Richard, he demanded to be released, to be allowed to cum. Paul
had caught up with Richard in the kitchen, where he stood with his back
to Paul fixing a cup of coffee. Now he turned around and looked at
straight at him. The look in Richard's eyes stopped Paul cold. He looked
at Paul with the most coldly possessive eyes he had ever seen; like Paul
was an object which he desired - greatly. Involuntarily Paul gasped and
stepped back, scared at what he suddenly saw in the man he loved. And
yet, scared as he was he was also very, very excited. For the first time
the pain from his compressed cock became acute, sharp as his imprisoned
member desperately tried escaping. This pressure did not diminish as
Richard spoke: "You do not demand anything, sweetie," he said coldly,
"You ask nicely for whatever it is that you would like. You beg, if you
really want it. Understood?" Suddenly Paul felt trapped and very
helpless. Helpless and very, very submissive. Without really realizing
it he had given up control almost completely to his lover and now
Richard had done the natural thing: He had assumed control. Complete
control. Not only had he assumed it; he had also begun using it or
abusing it, depending on how you saw it.

Staring wide eyed at Richard; a man who had been so kind, caring and
loving; a man he loved more than anyone in the world, Paul realized for
the first time that he might have misjudged the man he loved. That he
might have missed, overlooked, the man who now stood towering above him.
This scared Paul badly, since he was completely at his mercy. He was
naked and in heels and thus without any chance to fight him. Also this
new Richard made him horny in a way that was decidedly unhealthy. It
wasn't right being aroused at being treated so harshly.

But nonetheless, that was how he felt: helpless, submissive and horny.
Meekly, very meekly and in the smallest of voices he replied: "Yes
Richard, I understand. May I please be released from this cock cage?
Please?" He added hopefully, looking up at Richard with imploring eyes.
Richard didn't even crack a smile as he replied: "No." Paul started and
opened his mouth, but Richard beat him to it: "You are going to have to
work for your release from that device and for your orgasm. Work hard to
please me all day and I may choose to let you cum. May." Paul's eyes
widened with shock. "But..." he started. He didn't get any further as
the look in Richard's eyes intensified and Richard spoke in low menacing
tones: "Think very carefully about what you are going to say if you want
to cum today". Paul had never considered this outcome, in spite of what
a chastity device is obviously meant for and he continued to stammer:
"But, but..." He was really scared at the turn things had taken now. It
was as if he couldn't recognize Richard at all, as if he was under the
control of a cruel stranger. He stood wide eyed, mouth gaping stupidly
and stared at his lover. Or rather at the new version of his lover.

The situation made him nervous and scared yes, but also aroused. It was
somehow erotic to be dominated like that and again he was reminded that
he really was a bit submissive. Or rather quite submissive, or maybe
even very submissive now that he thought about it. Trapped and utterly
submissive now, Paul came to the conclusion that no matter what he was
going to do afterwards he had better start behaving as Richard wanted
him to right now. And when it came right down to it, wasn't that also
what he wanted too?

Meekly, very carefully and submissively, he asked: "Richard please, how
can I please you? May I suck your cock, please?" A broad grin on
Richard's face indicated that indeed he could, but here too things
turned out differently than normal. He got on his knees as usual, but
from there thing were very different. First of all the blowjob wasn't
really a blowjob, but rather a very vigorous face-fucking with Richard
pumping his cock in and out of Paul's mouth and throat as the poor
defenseless cocksucker tried to catch up, to breathe. Second Richard
didn't cum in Paul's mouth as usual, but instead withdrew at the last
second and gave him a facial. A very large and sticky facial. Not only
that; he also left Paul like that after the blowjob was: on his knees
with cum running down his face.

Paul was shocked and appalled and more than a little humiliated. The
sticky liquid drying on his face as he knelt inside a now empty kitchen
was somehow extra demeaning and humiliating. And getting up from a
kneeling position in high heels when you have no arms proved challenging
even for Paul. Once up he had no choice but to follow Richard into the
living room, where he was ignored and left standing as Richard drank his
coffee and read the newspaper. When Paul made as if to sit down, Richard
looked up and simply shook his head. He kept eye contact with Paul as he
opened his mouth to object and so this objection died before it had even
been uttered.

After about an hour Richard relented a little and wiped Paul's face
nearly clean with a dry piece of paper, but this proved to be about as
merciful as it would get as Paul could look forward to a whole day of
humiliation and servitude and being Saturday morning, it literally meant
a whole day.

Pleasing Richard proved to be far more demanding than "just" being
subjected to demeaning fucks or blowjobs. Paul danced show dances, quick
and slow, for his lover, wormed his way across the entire apartment on
his belly to show Richard his willingness to obey and even pressed
himself down on a dildo Richard somehow magically produced just to
please him. And apart from the time he spent worming his way across the
apartment Richard made him stand up in his heels all day long. It was
infuriating; it was demeaning beyond words, more humiliating than
anything Paul had ever experienced and is was the horniest and sexiest
experience he had ever been subjected to in his life. It was so sexy and
scary that Paul resolved to have a very serious talk with Richard when
this as over, because this was just plain unhealthy.

But Richard certainly had a fantastic time (as did Paul without
admitting it), fucking Paul or fucking with him at every turn and when
night came - late, very late - he didn't want to stop in spite of more
than fourteen orgasms and an extremely raw cock. So instead of releasing
Paul from the cock cage and restoring normal life, he wrapped Paul up
very, very tightly, first in one thin, cotton bed sheet, then another
and finally in a thick blanket, leaving only Paul's head and the very
tips of his feet, still in heels, sticking out of the roll. Then he
secured the roll with two belts and carried the weakly protesting Paul
over to the couch and laid him down there. He then took a sleep mask and
placed it over Paul's eyes and left the room, going to bed while leaving
Paul to stew - and perhaps sleep - on the living room couch.

Paul slept precious little for the first many hours. He was mad, he was
scared and he was hornier than hell. He was mad at Richard for treating
him an object or slave if you came right down to it. He was scared
because he had never seen this side of Richard before, scared of what it
meant for their future as a couple, scared for his well being and
finally scared of his own very submissive reaction, which led to his
almost frightening horniness. His cock hurt badly from pressing against
the plastic cage for so many hours and the sheet became wet with his
juices as he lay there dripping. Finally, after stewing for many hours,
but without in any way trying to escape from his bonds, Paul fell
asleep, dreaming of frustrated cocks, high heels and cruel lovers.

He woke up to Richard shaking him none too gently, calling: "Wake up
Paul, wake up". At first he couldn't understand why he couldn't see, but
after some more shaking he remembered his situation and opened his mouth
to reply only to feel how Richard pressed his cock into his mouth. That
snapped him awake! He tried escaping, pulling away, but Richard simply
held his head and pressed into his mouth. Paul tried screaming now, both
frightened and angry, but this only resulted in Richard's cock moving
further into his mouth and soon his lover had begun yet another furious
face-fuck. Thrashing and screaming with fear Paul had no choice but to
take the cock, which occasionally came right down into his throat,
cutting off air, but finally Richard came, this time flooding his mouth
instead of his face.

Again Richard infuriated and scared him by just leaving him afterwards,
trying to breathe normally as cum ran out of his mouth. It occurred to
him that he had actually been raped by his lover, but somehow the
thought was too big, too oppressive and didn't he also feel a little
aroused at being taken like that? The guilt following the last thought
was a blow to the gut as it was inevitably followed by the realization
that he HAD been raped. Richard had just raped his mouth; raped him!
Richard! Gentle and loving Richard had just raped him!

Only Richard either didn't see it that way or - even worse - didn't
care. He continued his imprisonment of Paul throughout the next day,
Sunday, and Paul had to admit it was horny. Horny as hell. So horny in
fact that when Richard finally removed the chastity device at night Paul
came right then and there with no other stimulus needed than Richard
holding his cock lightly in his hand. Paul had wanted to talk seriously
to Richard about what he had done to him, but he somehow never had the
chance. The orgasm that came just from Richard holding his cock had been
so powerful that he actually almost blacked out. After that Richard
began kissing and fondling him gently and in no time Paul had his legs
wrapped around Richard while he was being fucked and Richard's hands
manipulated Paul's cock expertly as Paul screamed out how much he loved
Richard. It was amazing, unbelievable, and again scary somehow as
Richard managed to extract three fabulous orgasms from his not very
reluctant lover (slave?) before they both fell asleep, Paul again with
his shoes on.

The next morning, after yet another glorious morning fuck, Paul finally
managed to bring it up; to make Richard understand or explain or at
least have some kind of position on the subject. "Please Richard", he
started, "This may be erotic as hell, but it's also wrong." Richard
looked at him uncomprehendingly. "You practically raped me, Richard",
Paul finally managed to say out loud and went on describe how wrong it
had been for Richard to force him while lying on the couch. To Paul's
immense relief this somehow seemed to get through as Richard seemed to
think it over. After a good long while Richard looked at Paul again and
said: "Hmm... I am sorry that's how you felt, because that sure wasn't
what I had in mind", Paul felt overjoyed that Richard accepted this, but
then Richard went on: "But it didn't feel that way to me. The whole
weekend, which I now hear you describe as some kind of assault, felt as
if you were reveling in it, loving it; loving being forced". The happy
feeling was gone. Paul saw that his arguments hadn't gotten through at
all and what was worse was that gleam in Richard's eyes, the possessive
one, was back. With a vengeance. "You loved it Paul. Admit it." He had
loved it, but that wasn't the point Paul thought. The point was that it
had been done entirely without his consent. Of course Richard could
argue that their previous outings and public séances had been the same
and that Paul had accepted them (almost) without protest and that this
was just more of the same. Except it wasn't and they both knew it. This
was different because of the amount of force used; because where Paul
had previously had at least the theoretical possibility to escape, there
had no such possibility this time around. Richard had tied him up, had
continued his sexual advances over Paul's protests, had restricted his
movements, his freedom, without consent for a whole weekend. That was
different. Very different.

But Richard just pressed on. He took out the chastity device again and
over Paul's objections, and using an ice-pack to put down Paul's
erection, he fitted what was now effectively his slave boy with it. Paul
was scared, disappointed and humiliated beyond words, but it wasn't
until they were in the elevator on their way to work that he realized
just how violated he was. Richard had locked his cock up; enslaved him
in plain view and there was nothing Paul dared do about it. They lived
together and Paul was utterly dependent on Richard for most everyday
things. The whole world; Paul's co-workers and even Paul's parents and
brother thought that Richard was a great guy, loved him for being so
considerate to Paul, that changing their view of this would be very
hard. Harder still showing them the chastity device and claiming he
hadn't wanted it himself. Getting out of this relationship would be very
difficult, not least because he still loved Richard, that bastard, and
because there was no denying the fact that the games made him supremely
horny. He had to devise a strategy for breaking free from Richard, but
until he had such a strategy he would have to play along.

Playing along proved to be an extremely trying, exhausting and erotic
maneuver. Richard ramped things up almost at once. Without it ever being
spoken out loud as an order, Paul now had to wear heels all the time at
home, including when sleeping and as a new feature even in the shower.
Magically Richard already the next morning produced a pair of plastic
stilettos with a one inch platform and seven inch heels which Paul could
wear while showering. Clothes while at home were also abolished that
very evening.

Richard tightened the screw a little more all the time. The intervals
which Paul wore the chastity device lengthened gradually: first it was
two days, then four, then a week, then two weeks and finally a month.
This furthermore had the - for Paul - undesired side effect that Paul
began to have trouble thinking straight for extended periods of time as
he was just too horny to think about anything else than when he would be
allowed to cum the next time. A little less than a week into Paul's
chastity wearing period, Richard introduced slave training and
conditioning every day. At first it was simple: Paul was forbidden to
sit or lie down without permission. Then he had to ask for permission
for everything he did until finally he was forbidden to speak unless
spoken to and made to obey every command or get beaten.

The beatings were the worst for Paul, hateful and miserable. All the
other things Richard had done to him, while still cause enough for him
to plan his exit, had aroused Paul at some level, played to his
erotically submissive side. Not so the beatings. At first they were
simple and somehow playful; over the knee spankings. Then they evolved
through belts, straps, paddles, whips and crops until Paul screamed for
mercy when being "corrected" as Richard called it.

Three months after first being raped, face fucked against his will, Paul
had still not come a single step closer to liberating himself from
Richard and had not managed to make single of his friends or family
aware of his plight. While Paul now stood at attention waiting for
orders and called Richard "Master" and his ass and thighs bore the red,
hateful marks of Richard's beatings, his surroundings still thought that
Richard was a great guy and that they were a dream couple. Paul was
trapped.

Paul had still not made any ground on this when one Monday morning
everything changed. He had just come to work, when all the employees
were called to a meeting. The meeting was short and bitter. The company
was bankrupt and they had all been fired. While Paul had known for some
time that all was not well, the message was a shock to everyone,
including himself. And just like that, half an hour later, they all
stood outside the building as it closed down for good.

Someone asked if he wasn't going to call Richard and out of habit and
unwillingness to admit his actual situation he did, telling him
tearfully about what had just happened. Richard perversely played the
considerate lover and immediately offered to come pick him up, but Paul
said no as him and his closest co-workers had just agreed to go for
drink. Soon they sat in a fairly upscale bar at ten in the morning
drinking Margaritas and such, moaning and bitching about the bankruptcy.
Paul didn't drink much and late in afternoon they all parted ways amid
promises to keep up to date.

Paul walked to the nearest subway station, taking a shortcut through a
short alley. The alley was a dark and deserted, but not very long and
the neighborhood was very good, very safe and secure. Paul was more than
a little surprised when someone stepped out of the shadows and even more
surprised when that someone turned out to be Richard. Paul stopped in
surprise as his lover - his Master - approached with a warm and
comforting smile on his face. He looked just like the Richard he had
fallen in love with years ago and for a few seconds Paul got all weak
and soft. Maybe this was a new start, the return of his old lover.
Richard hugged his lover and Paul sighed with relief and joy. Then he
felt a sharp stab in his buttock and cried out, trying and failing to
pull away. "Hush baby," Richard whispered, "you're all mine now, forever
and ever". A sickening look of extreme possessiveness was once more in
Richard's eyes and Paul opened his mouth to scream in terror, for help,
but no words came. His whole body was going numb and he couldn't speak
at all. With surprising speed his body went limp and he plunged down a
black hole, his consciousness disappearing in a blink.

Chapter 5: In Mr. Wrong's possession
Paul woke up feeling somehow hung-over, at first not quite clear on what
had happened. He felt extremely sluggish and unable to even open his
eyes. Gradually the world came back; filled in. He became aware that
something wasn't as it should be. His cock hurt, he was unable to pull
his legs apart and he couldn't see. Then he remembered what had happened
and a scream bubbled up his throat only to die right before his mouth.
It died as a result of the realization that if Richard had taken him,
crying for help wouldn't help at all. This was instantly confirmed by a
low chuckle coming from right next to him. Of course Richard would know
his exact weight and would be able to dose him so that he would know the
exact time he woke up. Paul suddenly got extremely nervous about what
was going on. This was a serious escalation, even when compared to the
last three months of effectively sexual slavery.

Richard did nothing to ease his fear: "I have decided - a decision taken
some time ago - that I want you as my slave and not just for the few
hours you and I are together at home. I want you 24/7. For good. I need
to own you; to control you and to dominate you completely." Paul was now
utterly still; afraid to even breathe as Richard continued: "You've done
something to me Paul, turned me into some kind of controlling monster
and now you are paying the price. Don't get me wrong; I like what I have
become, but if you hadn't goaded me into forcing you that first time or
introduced heels into our sex life, I never would have had these ideas,
would never have gone down this path. I would have remained safe,
reliable old Richard for the rest of my life". Richard actually sounded
annoyed, angry even, as he obviously thought that his becoming a
sadistic monster had been Paul's fault. The sound of Richard's voice,
warped beyond anything he had ever heard from his lover; now the voice
of a kidnapper and possibly a maniac, made Paul emit a small, lost and
utterly involuntary keening noise as he recognized that this was going
to end badly for himself. Very badly. The sound made Richard laugh out
loud, a huge sound of genuine mirth erupting from deep in his belly. "Oh
yes, my little bitch", he laughed, "You're really in for it now and the
best part is that it is your own, damned fault!"

Finally Paul felt he had to speak; to object: "Look Richard", he started
before two vicious slaps silenced him. "Stupid slut", Richard screamed
into his face, "you are property now! My property! And if you speak
again without permission I promise you'll spend the rest of the evening
screaming in pain! Now shut up!"

This scared Paul silent and Richard continued: "I had made elaborate
plans for how I was going to make you disappear without a trace and do
so without implicating myself, which is quite hard as it turns out; so
hard in fact I hadn't come up with a really good plan yet, just a few
almost good enough plans. But the collapse your company really is a
gift. This way you simply vanished on your way home under circumstances
I had no way of controlling. All I have to do now is make sure you stay
hidden for the rest of your life. And those plans and preparations have
been made a long time ago".

Paul was just about to object when Richard removed his blindfold and
allowed him to see again. Richard even propped up his head so that Paul
could see down his own body. What he saw didn't ease Paul's mind in any
way. On his feet was a pair of stiletto boots he had never seen before;
very pointy toes and very, very thin metal heels which looked very high
(they were six and a half inches) and the boots reached all the way up
to his knees, laced very tightly up the front. Now that he saw them Paul
realized that his feet did feel compressed in an uncomfortable manner,
as if wearing too small shoes. That sensation was wholly explained by
what he saw. He also saw that his legs were tied together with something
as mundane as cling film, compressing them from the ankles to mid-thigh.
But the most alarming sight was his cock, now free of the chastity
device. The reason it was free, was that a catheter had been pressed up
inside him, explain why his cock felt so sore. Looking at it Paul had
real trouble comprehending how his cock was able to withstand the abuse;
the catheter looked to be of enormous diameter.

Paul looked up at Richard with pleading eyes and said: "Please Richard,
please. You can't... I won't, I..., it's just..." Paul was panicking -
losing it - and they both knew it. Richard had an overbearing look on
his face and let Paul stammer for a while before closing his mouth with
a vicious slap, delivered, chillingly enough, with a big, warm smile on
his face. He didn't even speak. He simply shut up his terrified armless
slave with a slap and the proceeded to explain Paul how it would be best
if he cooperated with the next step. Otherwise it would be very painful.

Paul had never been so scared in his life. He could see no way out, no
help possible; only complete and total compliance with Richard's insane
demands seemed to be an option. And by doing so he would no doubt doom
himself beyond the possibility of salvation. He was utterly screwed
either way.

First Richard cleaned Paul's mouth and nose very thoroughly, in and out,
a very unpleasant process. Then he sprayed a mild anesthetic into Paul's
nose and processed to press two clear plastic tubes into Paul's nostrils
and continue to press until he was satisfied that he had reached the
lungs. Had Richard not secured Paul to the bed he lay in with straps, he
would have struggled like mad, but as it was he only had options of
gasping, retching and making pathetic panicky noises. Then came an even
bigger tube which Richard somehow managed to push all the way down into
Paul's stomach, leaving a tear streaked slave in near panic but utterly
silent as his vocal chords were now disabled.

Looking very pleased with himself Richard released Paul from the bed and
stood him up. Paul was utterly passive as he adjusted to the new heels
while fighting off panic. Had he not already been fitted with a catheter
he would have pissed himself with fear, but as it was even that was
denied him.

Richard was, however, far from done. Hooking a finger through the ring
of the collar Paul hadn't even noticed he was wearing, he led his slave
through the apartment while explain that in a few hours he would first
call his old colleagues to ask if Paul was with them. Then he would call
Paul's parents and brother, some other friends of theirs and finally the
police. He would play the concerned lover first until evidence
suggesting that Paul had died, evidence Richard had already made well in
advance, would surface after which he would play the bereaved and
mourning gay husband before reluctantly moving on. And the best part, as
he explained with a completely insane look on his face, was that Paul
would be able to follow all of it as it went on.

Paul didn't understand how he would be able to follow his own
disappearance and its effects, but he did understand the main message:
that he was going to disappear for good and finally this triggered his
fighting instincts. But of course it was much too late for that. Richard
reacted promptly and without mercy, viciously squeezing the balls of his
"lover" until Paul lay curled up on the cold marble floor of the
apartment's hall, vomiting in pain through the tube inserted into his
stomach, a feeling which registered as very strange even in Paul's
pain-clouded mind. After that there was no resistance. Richard dragged
Paul by his collar across the floor and stopped in front of a completely
featureless section of the wall. The section was about four feet wide
and unbroken from the floor and up to a decorative ledge some 7 feet up.
Paul was unable to see what Richard did, but suddenly that whole section
of wall swung outwards and revealed a closet-like space Paul had never
known existed. Inside the small room was what looked like a futuristic
coffin standing on its end. Paul had been very scared before, but now
his mind went blank with abject terror. It didn't take much effort to
figure out who would the coffin was intended for and the second this
realization hit home Paul voided his bowels with fear, his head shaking
desperately as his heels made desperate drumming movements on the floor
while he was utterly unable to anything to save himself.

Richard didn't seem to mind Paul's messes at all, but simply smiled at
his prey, tied his prey's legs together and told it to lie still; the
last sentence delivered with an evil little smile. Then he patiently,
and very, very thoroughly cleaned up first Paul's pool of vomit, then
his feces and finally Paul himself. He then yanked Paul to his feet and
explained him what was going to happen. Paul stood a bit unsteadily with
his legs now tied together and listened to Richard with a growing sense
of disbelief. The explanation only took about five minutes and his
installation in the coffin only about half an hour after which he had
the time to review everything Richard had said and done and conclude
that his doom was even more assured that he had previously thought.
Richard's plan seemed bulletproof; outrageously well thought out and
meticulously well executed. If only Richard stuck to that plan Paul
could see no chance of escaping and somehow he thought hoping for
slip-ups from Richard was a real loosing game.

Paul was secured in a standing position. A carefully crafted pipe was
inserted into his ass, acting not only as a waste collection point, but
also as a way of keeping Paul in a standing position. Paul was shocked
when Richard told him that over the last several months he had actually
been sedated several times after they had enjoyed regular sex, so that
Richard could examine his lover's ass and insure that the fit of the
tube would be perfect. Paul had felt no extraordinary soreness in the
ass afterwards because the examinations had been carried out right after
having had anal sex. During these periods of sedation Richard had mapped
Paul's entire body in excruciating detail, including his metabolism, so
that the design of Paul's prison was now perfect. Of course Paul had
already been fitted with a catheter and tubes for feeding and breathing
and these had now simply been connected to the fittings in the coffin.
To make these fits perfect Paul had been marched into the coffin so that
he now faced the bottom, the lid closed on his back. Once inside and all
tubes had been connected, Richard had strapped Paul down for safety.
Only this was not done with narrow straps which could cut off blood
supply. Instead it was done using foot wide strips of elastic garment so
that Paul was now restricted perfectly inside a coffin already shaped to
his contours. Earpieces were placed in Paul's ears and sealed inside
using a silicone based glue, thus eliminating all sound except that
which came from the earpieces. The lid of the coffin was then shut
behind him and this too was shaped to perfectly match his body,
compressing him ever so slightly.

Paul found that the only things he could move - the only things! - were
his eyelids. Everything else was compressed just so; compressed so
perfectly as to deny him all movement, yet allow him to breathe. And do
nothing else. The sensation was claustrophobic beyond Paul's wildest and
most vivid nightmares. Everything else Richard had done to him -
absolutely everything! - paled to insignificance and Paul had a
protracted panic attack standing there in the darkness. He tried
screaming, but couldn't. He tried struggling, but found it impossible.
He tried - without knowing this was what he tried - to hyperventilate,
but found that Richard had of course designed a gas management system to
suppress such attacks. And so on. There was no escape and standing there
in the complete and total darkness Paul began to wonder if he was dead.

He was still wondering if this was what being dead felt like when
suddenly something flooded his field of vision with light, blinding him.
After a few minutes his eyes had adjusted enough for him to see what it
was. With growing wonder he realized that he was seeing a split screen
image, or rather six images of the apartment. The angles suggested that
the cameras were placed near the ceiling, giving almost bird's eyes
views of the rooms. The images showed the kitchen, the living room, the
bedroom, the office and the bathroom. The last image showed Richard
standing in the hall, right beside the section of wall Paul was hidden
behind.

Richard looked straight at the camera and spoke and to Paul's immense
surprise his voice was crystal clear in his ears. "I can see that you
are now past your hysterics, which is good." How did Richard know? Paul
was again surprised and became more so as Richard continued: "I monitor
everything about you Paul", he said and held up his Smartphone, "I know
everything about you except for what is in your head and even that isn't
too hard to guess. You are a bitch I know so very well after all". Paul
balked at this, but there was no one to hear his objection and beside he
couldn't even utter it. Nonetheless Richard chuckled at just this and
commented on it before continuing. He told Paul how the coffin was
airtight so that no smell escaped it and how the whole compartment the
coffin was stored in, was not only secret and not on any drawings
anywhere, but also had a slightly lower pressure than the apartment so
that airflow - if any - would always be from the apartment to the
compartment and not the other way around. Paul's air, food and water
supply and waste handling lines were also connected outside any view or
control from the building. To prove his point Richard pressed a button
on his Smartphone and Paul felt his belly distend as either food or
water was pumped into it. As the pipe bypassed his mouth altogether he
had no way of knowing which it was.

As Richard explained about the system and told Paul that he would have
to stay inside the coffin until well past the point where he had been
declared dead, Paul had another panic attack. He knew now for sure that
he no one would find him unless Richard told them and that he would have
to stay inside the upright tomb he was in for several months.

Paul was entirely correct in this assumption. Forced to watch "all
Richard, all the time" as his captor jokingly called it, Paul saw and
heard it all through the perfect and perfectly hidden surveillance
system. He watched as the police came and questioned Richard, who seemed
genuinely worried. He saw Richard spend countless hours with Paul's
family (Richard had none of his own left) as they waited for word of
Paul's whereabouts. He saw Richard comfort Paul's mother and Richard in
turn being comforted by Paul's own brother. It was very clear that no
one, no one at all, thought that Richard was the bad guy. Not Paul's
mother, not his brother, not his colleagues and not the police. All
thought Richard the perfect man whose lover had been snatched away
somehow whether by accident or otherwise was unclear. Paul wanted to
scream in rage and frustration but was of course utterly incapable.

Then, after about a month, the police came by to tell Richard that they
had found evidence suggesting that Paul had fallen into the river and
had been swept away. This of course meant, the very sympathetic police
offer told a seemingly grief-stricken Richard, that finding Paul alive
was now highly unlikely and that finding him at all was equally unlikely
as the river wound up in the sea after only a few miles. There was no
mention of even the possibility of foul play. What was even worse for
Paul was a remark exchanged between the two police officers while
Richard was in another room on some related errand. It was quite clear
that this was not some cover story the police told Richard while
investigating him or others. Both clearly felt bad for him - even if "he
was a damned faggot" as they said. Three weeks later they came by to
tell Richard that they had found very suggestive evidence that Paul had
indeed drowned and had been swept out to sea and that they were closing
the investigation. They then offered their sincerest condolences to the
seemingly grieving man and left. Two weeks later a funeral was held and
Paul again cried with rage and frustration as Richard and Paul's family
comforted each other and said goodbye to the now permanently gone Paul.

Paul had now been utterly immobile for two months and as a result his
muscles had begun to shrink. His feet were beyond repair he knew, the
pain coming from the constant and now compressed into the shape of the
high heels and he knew that any walking he might do when he was
eventually released would have to be in heels. Richard too had made this
clear to him when he talked to the Paul over the surveillance system in
private moments. But given his disappearing muscles Paul had thought
that he would gain some limited freedom of movement. That, however, was
not the case. Richard again scared Paul with his meticulousness. It
turned out the coffin was made not only to accommodate him exactly at
the time he was placed in it; it was also designed so that parts of it
could expand and so still hold him utterly immobile. Not only that, it
was also made to mould certain aspects of his physique to Richard's
tastes. This meant that Paul could feel how his waist was compressed
much more than the rest of his torso, which was explained the night
Richard told him that in the future Paul would wear corsets all the
time.

Time passed in a strangely disjointed and unreal manner inside Paul's
coffin. When Richard was away from the apartment or slept in the
darkened bedroom where Paul couldn't see him and nothing happened on the
screen, Paul had trouble telling whether he was awake or asleep. The
screen now followed him in his dreams and he had real trouble
distinguishing the two. Only when Richard was in the image and only when
he talked to him was Paul relatively sure that he was in fact awake.
Richard became his only hold on reality and Paul longed for him when he
wasn't there. Slowly he began feeling real pleasure in seeing his evil
captor, loving the sight of him.

Richard had begun addressing him differently too. The first few weeks
Richard had taunted Paul every time he addressed him. Then he began
instructing Paul in how things were and how he expected Paul to behave
when he was let out of the box; what Richard wanted from his slave. At
first Paul had wanted to scream in defiance at this, but gradually the
joy of seeing Richard, the evil bastard that was Paul's only connection
to reality - began to take over and eagerness to please began to blend
in, take over. Paul realized, at least for the first few weeks, what
Richard was doing and tried resisting, but the onslaught unstoppable and
very cleverly thought out. After nearly three months Paul had again
fallen for his old lover, albeit this time in a much more sinister
fashion.

When a little over three months had passed Richard moved out of the
apartment. Paul saw how he met with his family and made his goodbyes and
this time he balked only a little when Richard told them that the loss
of Paul had been a blow and that staying in the apartment was simply too
much. Paul almost regained himself when his family said fond farewells
to Richard, but still he was glad that his evil captor was there for him
in the image in front of his eyes.

Moving Paul was exceedingly simple. The coffin fit perfectly inside a
huge old bureau made of hardwood that Richard had had always. Richard
had simply removed all of the insides of the bureau and now fitted the
coffin inside together with a breathing, feeding and waste handling
unit. Paul had no real sense of what was going on and the movers simply
though the bureau was an extremely heavy old affair and cursed as they
lifted it.

Finally, after three and a half months the coffin was opened and Paul
pulled out and lay limp on the floor as Richard pulled out all the tubes
from his openings. They were in a very large windowless room with a
concrete floor and bright lights. Everything was strange to Paul: the
feeling of air touching his skin, the ability to breathe for himself,
the lack of intruders in his orifices. All felt strange and somehow
wrong to the damaged slave. However, Richard was there and that felt
good in a strangely hateful manner. Paul loved and hated his captor;
still aware of the terrible things done to him yet extremely grateful
for the tiny, perverted version of human contact he offered.

Richard smiled warmly down at his slave and said: "You are mine for good
now, you useless cunt". Then he zipped up his pants, grabbed Paul's long
hair and pulled him into a semi-upright position (Paul's knees had
trouble bending properly after so long standing up) and inserted his
member into Paul's open mouth; open and unable to close yet after
spending so many months forced open. The face fuck was long and was for
Paul again that strange mixture of wonderful and hateful. He hated
Richard, he loved Richard. He hated having his intruding cock violating
his mouth, but he moaned with pleasure, both submissive and from simple
human contact, as he swallowed every drop of dominating nectar his
Master deposited there.

Epilogue: The real extent of Mr. Wrong's evil
The pet had no idea how long he had been with Master now. He still knew
that he had once been called Paul and that Master had been Richard, but
he had trouble, real trouble, believing that they had been lovers,
equals, once. He had even greater trouble imagining himself as free,
even though he knew he once been so, but perhaps that was because the
concept of "freedom" had become meaningless to him. Even his former name
was fading as he now always thought of himself as "pet" and always -
always! - thought of Master as just that: MASTER!

The pet stood at attention right beside Master as Master sat at his
desk, writing a prescription to one of his friends. They were in a
windowless room that Master used as his perverted medical practice; the
place where he treated the slaves of other dominants; adjusting their
looks, adding or subtracting things to and from their anatomy: Removing
teeth, arms, testicles or whatever the dominant desired or adding giant
tits, enlarging lips or tongues or making even more outlandish
modifications.

Master still worked in his very successful official plastic surgery
clinic, but he now also had a large clientele of perverted individuals
for whom he performed his services both for profit and for fun.

The pet wasn't too modified, but had been "adjusted" as Master usually
referred to his work. The pet's feet had been modified to be able wear
only a specific type and brand of ten inch ballet heels, his toenails
removed and all the bones broken and reset for the perfect fit. The pet
now stood perfectly still in his black ankle high ballet boots, his feet
pressed tightly together. The pet had also had three ribs on either side
of his chest removed to better accommodate his outrageously tight, black
corset which compressed his midriff from hips to heart to a pipe stem
the pet would have thought impossible before his enslavement. A broad
collar in matching black encircled his neck, but was seldom used for
other than show. The pet never offered the slightest resistance or
hesitated even the slightest no matter how outrageous the command.
Never, ever.

The pet, though not feminized beyond the use of heels and a hairless
body, now had long black hair. However, the haircut Master had chosen
for the pet was somewhat out of the ordinary. Apart from his eyebrows
the pet had no hair at all beneath the level of the top of his forehead.
Everything beneath was smooth skin. But the hair on the very top of his
head was now so long that it reached all the way down to the back of his
knees when he stood up straight - as he always did. And had his hair
been allowed to flow more freely it would have reached even further,
because Master had decreed that the pet have a pony tail of sorts; a
pony tail starting at the very center of the top of his head and rising
some eight inches straight up, held together and held upright by a
special, black constricting tube. The pet's long, long completely black
hair was in perfect contrast to his pale, white skin and matched his
black boots, corset and collar.

The only real color the pet displayed was his large inviting lips (not
painted or tattooed, just naturally red) of his cock sucking mouth. These
had been enlarged as had his tongue, now more than just taking up the
space previously occupied by his teeth. Master liked sliding his tool in
between big, pussy-like lips and then being serviced by a giant tongue
in a smooth mouth and the pet fearfully and eagerly supplied this
service at the slightest hint.

Finally the pet's cock was held inside a terrible, hateful and utterly
awful chastity device, something which still made him cry whenever his
poor frustrated member tried to get hard. He cried not from the pain,
but from the fact that he hadn't cum even once since Master had caught
him. Not a single time. And he was horny all the time, even when Master
did horrible things to him, even when he hated Master most, he lusted
for him; lusted for that orgasm which would never be granted.

The chastity device itself was a hateful piece of art. Secured to the
lower rim of his corset with a thick leather strap, it held a narrow
plate of highly polished stainless steel starting about an inch above
his cock. The metal plate curved downwards to follow the line of his
body, ending about two inches behind his cock. His cock was held inside
a tiny metal tube in the metal plate so that it curved down and back,
creating the illusion of a smooth steel crotch. This illusion was broken
by the pet's balls, which were pressed out to either side of the narrow
steel plate, not only exposed for punishment, but also positioned so
that they were pressed uncomfortably with each step the pet took. The
tube which held his cock only had one other opening besides the one his
cock entered into and that was a tiny hole for him to pee out through.
The whole arrangement was completed by two black, elastic straps going
down through the crotch area and up either side of his asshole - thus
providing no obstructions when he was fucked - ending again at the lower
rim of the corset, this time on his back. The whole things came off once
a month for cleaning, but this took perhaps ten minutes and never
involved the slightest bit of pleasure and his inevitable erection was
always punished by severe beatings.

The pet had no idea how long he had been down in what he believed to be
Master's basement, or perhaps even sub-basement, but it had to be years
now. Many years. But again there was no way of knowing at all. No
variations in temperature, clothing, routine or anything else. There
wasn't even a way of distinguishing regular weekdays from weekends. The
routines were the exact same every day and the only variation were in
what Master's preferred method of sex or torture (it all came to much
the same) was right at that moment or in whom among his many slaves was
the current favorite, but these variations offered no clue as to the
passing of time. The pet's only way of telling anything about the
passing of time lay in the sleep periods he had, but these too could be
manipulated exceedingly easily. The lights were always on and always set
to the same level and there were no coordinated routines as to who slept
when. A slave was ordered to sleep or rest in whatever position Master
wished and whenever he wished it. Even Master's look remained uncannily
unchanged, as if torturing his slaves somehow kept him young. It was all
amounted to the fact that the pet had no way of knowing whether he had
been a slave for one year or ten or even fifteen years. The pet thought
perhaps a little more than ten years, but truly he didn't know.

Master finished talking to the other dominant, said his goodbyes and
followed her and her newly adjusted slave out. The dominant was a
petite, black woman in her late fifties and in perfect shape. The pet
thought that perhaps she would stand no more than five feet flatfooted,
perhaps even less. She was dressed sharply, in a conservative but
immaculate grey business suit and walked in stylishly conservative, but
obviously expensive, five inch heels. Her hair was immaculately coiffed
and she looked like a very dignified and stylish business woman at the
expensive end of the boardroom register.

Her slave couldn't have been more of a contrast. The pet had seen him
when he was brought in, brutally bound and gagged, screaming with fear
and impotent rage, and he had been a full seven feet tall perhaps even
slightly more. He was a white body-builder type with truly enormous
muscles everywhere. Only now he didn't seem powerful at all, only
fantastically subjugated. His entire body was now utterly devoid of hair
of course. He longer stood upright, but instead walked on all fours, but
not on his knees. Both his hands and feet had had their nails removed
and had been crushed to fit inside very small, black ballet boots with
nine inch heels. The effect was that he now minced around on all fours
with his ass high up in the air. But the modifications went even
further. The slave was deaf and blind and had even had his outer ears
removed before his head had been sealed permanently inside a tight
fitting black rubber hood, open at the nostrils and mouth. His mouth was
ungagged and from it hung a huge tongue, swinging useless from side to
side as he moved. His vocal chords had been removed so even his
screaming had been reduced to semi-loud moaning. His truly enormous cock
was free and seemingly permanently hard and horny and in the section of
flesh between the scrotum and asshole a thick, black electrical cord
entered his body through very solid looking mechanical fixtures embedded
in his flesh. The electrical cord was about three feet long and ended in
a remote control of sorts.

The mistress held the remote control and walking behind him she
controlled his every movement using a few buttons and a thumb operated
joystick. The pet had seen her test its functions, including the one
which made the slave's whole body spasm in pain and the one that made it
shoot its considerable load instantly, making the slave spasm just as
uncontrollably as the pain button had. Perhaps they were coupled the pet
thought.

When the mistress and her horribly disfigured slave had left, Master
motioned the pet for a blowjob. The pet instantly dropped to his knees
in front of Master and extracted his cock using only his toothless
mouth. As Master's cock entered his mouth, the other slave's plight
fresh in mind, the pet thought that perhaps he had been lucky after all;
a thought which lasted right up until his own frustrated cock once again
tried in vain to escape its brutal prison. But then again, he deserved
it. He had, after all, helped create the monster owning him.

THE END

If you liked the story, please drop me a line and tell me what you liked
about the story at: story_2nn@yahoo.com


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