Fuck Boy - Prologue
NOTES>> This is a prologue of sorts to my new story. It's mainly 'set up', but hopefully you'll enjoy reading it before the real action beings in Chapter One! This is the first story I have written through the eyes of the dom. There are two other stories I started on here somewhere, and if you've ever read one, I do intend to add more chapters to them one day, I promise!
Meanwhile, feedback is always much appreciated - josharmstrong2007@gmail.com. And when you're done with my stuff, do check out 'Bred Slave', one of my favourite authoritarian stories on Nifty.
PROLOGUE
My advice for aspiring doms is always this: research your subs well, and be patient.
Sure, there are plenty of guys out there who will let you slap them around a bit before you fuck them hard - you can paddle their ass, flick their balls, twist their tits and make them beg to hell for a taste of your cock and the fuck they really desire.
And if you keep your sub's own dick on the edge of climax long enough, you can usually push him further than he ever intended to go - he'll take a much bigger dildo up his painfully stretched ass, beg for a more severe whipping and gladly bathe in and consume your piss. Four hours on the edge, and he'll put his faggy tongue into places he'd never normally consider, however sweaty, however rank; five hours and I've had three casual bottoms gladly lick clean my shitty ass.
Twenty-four hours being pushed to the limit without cumming, and those who insisted they'd only submit in private will gladly accompany you to a leather bar if they think it will hasten their orgasm, or at least smile for the video cam, even though they originally insisted nothing be recorded, fearing what might happen if their filthy fun times ever emerged on the net.
But few will tolerate full chastity, which means eventually you're going to have to let them cum, even if you insist they finish themselves off on their own time. And then they will change.
First, there will be a few minutes of intense embarrassment post-orgasm as they remember where they are - bound and naked, probably covered in piss and cum, with crude statements inked all over their bodies and skin that glows red from the earlier thrashing, the pain from which will suddenly feel more intense. And the taste of their status - that mixture of sweat, piss, cum and may be a little shit - will occupy their minds for a minute or two. I'll admit it - for me that is one of the most pleasurable moments, the few minutes when the sub questions himself, realising - in a post-orgasmic moment of clarity - just what a pathetic low life creature he really his.
It's because I cherish that temporary look of regret in the sub's reddening face that I'll never let the fucker cum before I do, even though the way his asshole clenches shut when his dick explodes provides proper men like me with a particularly intense moment if our superior cocks are simultaneously fucking the bitch's boycunt. But personally I'll always rate the mental joy derived from feeling truly dominant, over the more animalistic pleasure of having your dick inside a gay boy while he spunks his pointless load.
But here's my point, most of the fucks I've been talking about here fall into one of two categories.
The first bunch are fundamentally ashamed of their desires, and what those desires mean. And they fear where things might head, and, even more so, that their lowlife status may be exposed, because these guys are often still in the closet, certainly over the thrill they get from totally serving proper men like me, and maybe even about their basic lust for cock too. I like this fear, but too often it affects how far the sub can be pushed. Eventually you could probably take them to any extreme, but I don't like wasting my time. If they're not gulping down my piss within an hour and tasting my shit at the end of the first date, frankly I'm not interested.
And, perhaps even more importantly, it's hard to truly dominate this kind of cuntboy, because once their balls are empty of their pathetic juices, and they return back to whatever shit hole they call home, denial will kick in and they will try to fight those ingrained desires. And I need to know that, if I tell my sub to wet his own bed every night, or to flick his own balls fifty times each morning, or to use his own spunk as hair gel before going to work, that he will fulfil those demands on his own accord. Sure, you can film him wanking off, or fucking his own hole with a cucumber, and threaten to post the video on X-Tube, that might ensure obedience, but I want my subs to alter their lives to my whim not because of blackmail, but simply because they are subservient, and nature says that they should.
The second group have come to terms with their status, and can normally be pushed much further as a result. These guys will usually consider a whole lot more from the start, so once you have them edging pretty much any level of pain or humiliation is on the agenda. And if you tell them to logon to Skype every morning and wank off on camera using Bengay cream as lubricant, or to piss their own pants each night and wear the piss soaked boxers to work the next day, generally they will comply no questions asked, no blackmail required.
But these guys lack the fear. Sure, they too might blush during that moment of clarity in the minutes after cumming, and you can probably induce other temporary moments of despair - when you leave them blindfolded and bound, totally nude, in an unlocked cubicle of a particularly filthy public toilet; or when you first use your cattle prod on their pathetic flesh and they can see that the electric shocks are moving towards their balls; or even just the first time you shit in their mouths, when they finally realise that, with their heads secured and mouths clamped open, chewing on your shitty deposits is the only option open to them.
But they lack that more ingrained fear. They don't start every day loathing the lust in their loins to be beaten, degraded and fucked, and they don't usually fear exposure so much either (though even the most prolific sub might have unknowing work colleagues or family members who can be targeted with any footage you collect). Most importantly, they have accepted their place in society, and learned to live with their second-class status, and maybe even secretly admire themselves for being able to take such shit - metaphorically and literally of course.
And as I say, for me the fear is everything.
So, as with most things in life, proper satisfaction requires work. True, I've paddled and fucked, pissed on and occasionally exposed some of the sad self-hating freaks from the first group, and I've casually enjoyed pushing the more experienced sub to places he never imagined existed too. But really I want more.
I want genuine and constant fear. I want to see my sub's self-loathing grow with every beating they receive, with every brutal fuck they endure, and with every lick, suck and gulp they deliver. But I also want a sub for whom there are no limits - a cock-sucking, piss-drinking, shit-eating whore who will gladly alter his life - his entire life - and welcome ever increasing levels of pain, humiliation and fear, just for the thrill of feeling my glorious cock inside one of his holes.
Sam Ramsay was one of those subs. We met via a BDSM message board I use on occasion. I'd posted a short ad in my local section. It read...
WANTED: Inexperienced sub willing to do whatever it takes for a taste of my superior cock. No limits. Must be beautiful. Send full-frontal full-body naked photos - erect cock and face in the same shot.
I didn't include any information about myself, and had no intention of sharing any such details. If this guy was going to be qualified for the job, he wouldn't dream of asking for any information about me.
Demanding a full-frontal photo in which both the face and cock could be clearly seen was also a test. Sending such pictures to an anonymous email address is risky - especially for those still trying to keep their perverse desires a secret - but I needed to know any applicants were willing to put common sense to one side in order to satisfy their own subservient sexual desires.
The face was also important because I genuinely wanted a beautiful guy this time. Someone who I'd voluntarily fuck even if beating and humiliating them first wasn't on the agenda. I didn't mind too much about the body itself - I'd be dictating diet and fitness regime anyway if this relationship went fully ahead - and while I like my subs to be hairless from the neck down, this rule is more fun to enforce if the sub is naturally quite hairy, the shaving off of an ample pubic bush a great way to symbolically demonstrate the bitch's submission. So hairiness, one way or another, didn't matter.
But the face. I could keep them in a hood while in private, but I didn't intend for this relationship to be confined to my apartment, and I wanted eyes I could stare into deeply as I planned each day's torments. About 60% of the photos I received failed on this count - I responded simply with a link to the dictionary definition of the word "beautiful". Harsh but fair.
Of course more confident or more experienced subs would more willingly send me the kind of naked photo I demanded, but that wasn't the kind of sub I was looking for, so they needed to be filtered out too. This wasn't as hard as it sounds. More confident subs would often adopt the most confident looking pose they could think of for their picture, meaning, of course, they could be quickly rejected.
Though with these guys, I initially sent an email demanding they don a pair of tight white boxers, set up a video cam in their rooms, stand on their beds and piss themselves on camera. That so many fulfilled that demand confirmed I was right to reject them. My sub would eventually piss himself on demand quite frequently, but would never be able to do so now, on camera, in a way that meant he, his boxers and his bed would be covered in piss. Anyone who could do that was definitely too confident a sub for this brief. Though I enjoyed watching the pant pissing videos I was sent greatly, and might sell them to a fetish porn site one day.
But what I was looking for was the self-loathing type, pushed to taking the nude photo out of a desperately unfulfilled lust, but already despairing with himself for giving in to his perverse sexual desires. That guy doesn't adopt a confident pose. His face shows an expression of fear, embarrassment and apology, with only his stiff cock revealing lust.
Over six months I had only six photos that truly met these criteria. In each case I made a second demand. A video of the themselves wanking. They must cum on camera, catch their deposit in their left hand, and visibly lick up every drop of ejaculated spunk. Less extreme than the pant wetting video I demanded from the overly confident looking applicants, I knew the sub I needed would comply with this demand, but would look terrified throughout the recording, and - experiencing that post-orgasm reality check live on camera - would look outwardly disgusted when eating his own sexual deposit.
Only three of the second stagers provided the wank video. One put far too much effort into his recording, which betrayed a level of confidence I had missed in his original photo. He was seriously cute though and with one of the a most marvellous 8 inch cocks I've ever seen. I really wished I'd asked him for a boxer short pissing video instead. I could have demanded one of those too I suppose. But for some reason I felt unusually generous after watching his wank and sent a very polite rejection letter instead.
The second guy got the jerk off video just right - he looked like he wanted to cry as he licked up the monumental amount of cum his dick had unleashed onto his hands and the fortunately tiled floor of his room. But seeing him from differing angles, he wasn't as cute as I'd thought from his original photo, and on second thoughts his nipples were too small.
He'd emailed me from a hotmail address that included his real name, so I looked him up on Linked-In, found his work email address, and sent his rejection letter there, complete with some screen grabs from his video, including a wonderful one with his tongue covered in his own spunk. He sent a polite note back, from his hotmail, requesting I never email him at work again. I sent back a stern message back to his work account telling him that if he ever made requests of me again I'd send the full video to his boss, whose email address I now knew. He sent me back a grovelling apology. I chose to ignore it and have never heard from him again. Perhaps I'll put his video up on X-Tube one day and send the link to his work email.
All of which brings us back to Sam Ramsay. It took eight months from posting my original ad to finally selecting this bitch, but boy was it worth it. So cute, so boy next door, a blonde, slim, floppy haired student with a medium sized but well proportioned uncut cock on top of two sizeable balls, with an ample bush of blonde pubes, a slight treasure trail and some long looking hairs in his pits, but otherwise pretty smooth. Not especially athletic looking, but fit enough to not look out of place as one of the less popular members in a semi-successful boy-band.
What immediately struck me about Sam Ramsay was that here was a guy clearly terrified by the idea of posing naked and erect for the camera, and even more so wanking off on film, and yet he was trying so hard to look at ease. It was one of the least effortless wank videos I'd ever watched, and it took the bitch three and a half minutes to lick up his own cum, even though his cock had produced barely half the spunk of the previous guy. But the way he forced a smile throughout was perfect - hope and regret simultaneously on show as logic and lust fought it out in his mind. This was the guy I wanted. And what fun I could have beating that ass for taking so long to lick up his mess.
For final certainty I emailed him saying I had a feeling I had seen him at a particularly seedy gay bar in town which, although not exclusively a leather bar set up, was mainly frequented by doms and subs. This wasn't true, but was a final test. I also implied that his presence at said bar went in his favour. Another test. Sam Ramsay passed both. He assured me I was mistaken because he'd never been to that bar, or any gay bar in London he confessed, thus demonstrating both unwavering honesty and the inexperience I desired. This was the bitch for the job.
I emailed him links to ten BDSM videos, and told him to watch each in detail. I might do any of the things in those videos to him, I said, but he could choose to opt out of any three. Part of me hoped he would knock back the opt out opportunity, though doing so would have betrayed a level of confidence I did not wish to see. So I wasn't entirely disappointed when he emailed back requesting I refrained from cutting him, tattooing him or making him eat shit.
The first two didn't interest me anyway, and I only included them in the videos I sent so that he'd be less likely to deprive me of the things I really did enjoy. That he wanted to refrain from shit eating was not surprising, though that wasn't a thrill I was actually willing to forego. But that I'd now have to work out a way of making him beg to consume my shit turned me on a bit, so that wasn't going to be a deal breaker.
I told him to come to my apartment at midday on Saturday. He would stay here until Sunday evening. I didn't offer any flexibility on timings, knowing he'd make any rearrangements required to meet my demands. He was to email me his home address and mobile number, and bring with him £50 in cash, his phone and a university library book of his choosing. I would call him fuck boy from now on, I explained, and this weekend would be a final test. Only if he passed that test might I agree to dominate him on a more regular basis.
If at any point during the weekend he wanted to stop he must shout the phrase "my cock is embarrassingly small" or, if gagged at the time, wink at me with his left eye five times in close succession. But if he did, that would constitute failing the test and we would never see each other, speak or exchange emails ever again.
I was blunt when giving my instructions, he was overly grateful in his responses. A good start. On the morning of our first liaison I texted him at 10am, telling him to bring every pair of boxer shorts he owned in a rucksack and not to wash any that were currently dirty. He was to not where any boxers on his way to my apartment.
Nearly nine months in preparation - research and patience - and so began one of the best years of my life. That it would go so far, and involve a second sub, not even I foresaw. But it goes to show, do things properly and the rewards will be greater.
The door bell went at midday precisely.
I let him wait two minutes, and took the opportunity to observe him through the spy hole in my front door. He was even more cute in the flesh, a look of panic in his eyes, but lust in his lips.
"You must be fuck boy" I said, loudly, as I opened the door. He glanced quickly to his left, nervous one of my neighbours might have heard this greeting.
"Yes sir" he replied, cautiously.
"Come in" I said, ushering him into my hallway, "and give me that" I added, pulling the rucksack of his underwear from his shoulder, and slamming my door shut.
"Wait in there" I commanded, pointing to the nearest room to the front door, "get naked, put your clothes neatly on the floor, then adopt the pose you think will please me most".
"Yes sir".
As he began his first task I retreated to the kitchen and drank a bottle of beer. I could hear the rustling of clothes in the other room, and then silence. After ten minutes I went to the room where my pathetic new bitch boy now knelt, hands behind his back, cock on display. I walked in with authority, picked up the clothes he had neatly folded, and threw them in the kitchen bin I had purposely left in the room, so that his only clothes slipped in between a week's worth of food waste.
I then left fuck boy kneeling on my hard wooden floor, naked and alone, for a whole two hours, knowing he was battling hard with a genuine fear that grew inside him as his initial lust inevitably subsided. Two hours of alone time and this perfect bitch would be perfectly primed for our first liaison.
I'd waited nine months for perfection, after all. One last bit of patience and the perfect bitch boy would be all mine. I drank two more beers while I waited. I needed plenty of piss in my bladder for our first proper encounter.