The bar was unusually crowded, especially for a Saturday night. Lola’s was a pleasant enough bar, but because it was way out in the suburbs, Saturdays were usually pretty slow. All the ‘burb-boys’ went downtown when they didn’t have to work.
But tonight, for whatever reason, the bar was packed. And of course, Aaron, Chip, and Joe were there at the main bar, holding court. The “Three Muscle-keteers,” as they were known, they were the undisputed royalty at Lola’s. All three were well-built, and handsome, each a different type of stunning. But together, they formed a power-clique, with Aaron the unquestioned leader of the trio. Aaron was tall, blond, with a perfect gym-toned body, a killer smile and a killer tongue to match. He was handsome to look at, but as soon as he would move or speak, his actions betrayed his cockiness, and his razor-wit made him feared by most of the regulars. Oh, they all hung around him, kissing up and flirting, if for no other reason than to avoid being the subject of his gossiping insults. Chip, Aaron’s devoted wing-man, was dark-skinned and had brown eyes and hair, shorter than Aaron, and always dressed in the trendiest clothes. Chip was nice enough, as long as he wasn’t with Aaron. Aaron had a way of bringing out the cattiest side of a person, and Chip was always there, next to Aaron, the Runner-up to Aaron for the title of Bitch Extraordinaire at Lola’s.
Joe, unlike the other two, was the soft-spoken one. A gentle giant. He was extremely handsome, heavily-muscled, thick-necked like a wrestler, broad shouldered, solid. A lifetime of sports and weightlifting, combined with his Irish heritage and ability to control his diet, left Joe with a pro-bodybuilder’s body that was coveted by men and women alike. Joe’s rugged good looks and quiet charm easily made him the most-liked of the three, but Joe’s attentions were always being coveted by his two friends. Aaron and Chip never let Joe more than a step from their sides, lest they lose their best magnet of attention. His fair skin and black hair set off his bright green eyes. His demeanor was never feminine, he was naturally masculine, with a subtle, polite manor. Joe kept his black hair cropped tight, military-style, and kept his goatee stubble-short. He always dressed in Red Wing boots, tight jeans, and a white, grey or black T-shirt. The denim pants and cotton shirt stretched nicely over Joe’s bulky frame, and hugged every curve of his muscles, amplifying his size, and giving Joe the appearance of a masculine ideal. “Construction-Worker Chic,” as Aaron called it. “Hopeless Non-Sophisticate” was Chip’s usual comment. Joe always felt that he would never figure the whole gay style thing out. For that matter, the whole gay world overwhelmed Joe.
Joe had only recently come out, at age 26, and when Aaron and Chip saw Joe the first time, they recognized his raw-recruit talent. They quickly pulled Joe close into their confidences, before he really had time to learn what sort of sharp-tongued vipers they were. They both knew that Joe was best kept under their thumb as a friend, lest he become the competition. Unaware of the competitive nature of gay men, Joe was generally just glad to have the friendship. He tolerated their bitchy behavior and snobby actions, if for no other reason than he had no other real friends, at least none that he could be open with about his sexuality. Since Joe had finally admitted to himself that he liked sex with men, he’d drifted away from his family, and especially his old high school jock buddies. Now, he was the third leg of the “Three Muscle-keteers,” and he’d just accepted this role, thinking this was just what being gay must be.
This night at Lola’s was a special night. It was Aaron’s birthday, and the legions of his loyal subjects were gathered tightly around the trio of studs, fawning over Aaron, hugs and kisses all around. Chip was busy directing traffic, controlling the greeting line of well-wishers as they approached Aaron. Joe, overwhelmed by the attention and uncomfortable with the “gayness” of the event, stood by quietly, observing the gay-la event with bemusement. But his mind was drifting elsewhere, his thoughts focused on the idea that somewhere, being gay must not be so much damn work; somewhere, Joe thought as he let out an audible sigh, there must be someone like him that wasn’t impressed with all this artificial kissy-kissy. Maybe someday, Joe would meet another real man.
Joe’s eyes scanned the bar, avoiding the clingy group of suck-ups, his mind lost in thought. As Joe looked down the bar, he noticed Tony the bartender talking with a newcomer, an older man with tight-cropped salt and pepper hair, a solid if not muscled build, and dark skin. The strange man had his back turned to Joe, so Joe couldn’t tell if the man was handsome or not, but since Tony’s attentions were held so tightly by the man, Joe’s curiosity peaked, and he felt a flush of excitement, anxious to see the older man’s face. The dark-skinned man kept moving his hand back and forth slowly, rhythmically, in front of Tony as he spoke. Tony, usually hustling hard to keep the crowd liquored up, had a strange, distant smile on his face. Tony’s eyes never left the stranger. They focused intently on the stranger’s face. Joe was transfixed, watching from a distance, watching Tony’s head nod gently in agreement with everything the older man was saying. The stranger reached his hand out and caressed Tony’s face. Tony’s eyes closed gently, his body relaxed, and a look of aroused ecstasy spread across his face. Joe watched as the bartender’s eyes remained closed for a several seconds, until the stranger removed his hand from Tony’s face. Tony slowly woke from his drift. His body language was now oddly submissive. Tony’s entire demeanor had changed. His eyes were lowered, and his posture was reverent, and Joe noticed that Tony was a bit off-balance, his body swayed gently from side to side. Only Joe had been witness to this strange, private moment.
The stranger then asked Tony a question, and Joe watched as Tony looked up at the mature older man, smiled vacantly, and then looked over at the gathered birthday gang, then directly at Joe. Joe could see Tony speak, and the older man turned to face the crowd. Joe’s eyes locked briefly with the stranger’s. He felt a surge of sexual power pulse from the man’s dark eyes. Joe’s body flushed with excitement as he stared at the man’s handsome, strong face. Obviously middle-eastern, the man was probably around his dad’s age. The man had a square face and heavy brow. His upper lip was covered with a black mustache that framed his full lips. As his eyes locked with Joe’s, his lips parted, revealing perfect white teeth as he smiled a confident smile. The smile knocked Joe out. His muscled frame tensed reflexively, and his nipples filled with blood, poking up stiff against his cotton tee. Joe’s cock also stirred, waking sleepily to arousal in his jockstrap, swelling and pressing out against the mesh fabric. Suddenly aware he had been caught staring, Joe felt a pang of panic. He had been caught ogling the sexy older man. Joe flashed a quick smile at the man, then shifted his eyes quickly back to the crowd of revelers. But Joe could still feel the man’s gaze on him as he consciously avoided making further eye contact.
Joe began to plan his escape from the situation. He announced to no one in particular that he needed to hit the head, so he could go recover his composure. He sensed that the man was still watching his every move, and could actually feel the heat from the stranger’s focused attentions. Joe turned toward the restrooms and began to shift toward escape when he felt Aaron’s hand on his shoulder. “Joe, I said, ‘It’s time to play my game,’ aren’t you listening?” Aaron whined, obviously irritated that Joe had not been hanging on his every word. “Uh, umm, sorry, Aaron, what did you just say, I was just heading to the can, sorry.” Joe stammered.
“Jesus, Joe, you have the attention span of a fruit-fly sometimes,” Aaron scolded Joe, more for the benefit of the crowd than to make a serious point. “I said, handsome-but-stupid, It’s time to play my birthday game, and YOU get to be the first player!”
Joe’s face flushed with blood, not so much from the insult, he was used to that, but from the idea of the game. “No, Aaron, no! Can’t we just celebrate your birthday, and give everyone a break from your games?” Unruffled by Joe’s plea, Aaron shifted into game face. “Joe, darling, it’s my birthday, and tonight I feel like playing a harmless little game. We’re going to play Pop-n-Drop, and you get to go first!”
Realizing Aaron would not be off-put, and knowing he was trapped, Joe shrugged his massive shoulders, rolled his eyes, and submitted. “OK, Aaron, who am I supposed to Pop-n-Drop?” Joe relented.
Pop-n-Drop was Aaron’s name for a cruel prick-tease. The chosen player had to flirt shamelessly with a complete stranger, chosen by Aaron, flirt with them, get them all worked-up, then drop them coldly, leaving the victim embarrassed and humiliated, all for the pleasure of the gathered crowd that were in on the prank. Oddly, most of the people gathered around tonight had once been the victims of this very game, but they all waited to see who Aaron would pick tonight, relieved that this time they were in on the joke.
“Well, who will it be tonight?” Aaron cooed, as his eyes scanned the bar for the victim. A wicked smile crossed his face as his eyes landed on the stranger at the bar, the same man Joe had been watching earlier. “Ah, well, it seems as if your work is already half-done, Joe. There, at the bar, there’s a fine-looking older gent who already seems to be eyeing you, stud! I choose him.” Joe and the entire crowd turned to follow Aaron’s gaze, and Joe felt a sense of panic when he saw the stranger from before, who was now looking firmly at Joe. “Uh, NO, Aaron, NO! Not him. He looks like he wouldn’t take a joke very well!” Joe pleaded with Aaron, hoping not to be forced into this. “Too late, muscle-boy, the prey is already taking the bait. He’s been staring you down for the last five minutes.” Aaron replied. As Joe turned back to the stranger, he saw the dark-skinned older man set his drink down, and shift his solid frame, preparing to move toward Joe.
Hushed silence fell over the group, as they watched the older man approach. If he was aware of the complete attention he was getting, he certainly didn’t seem fazed by it. He strode confidently, fully self-assure in his actions, toward Joe and the gang of on-lookers. His dark eyes never left Joe’s gaze as he neared. Joe thought to himself how confidence adds so much to raw sexiness. The man’s handsome features were sharpened as he came closer. His strong face and solid build held up well to closer inspection. He was masculine and quite handsome, maybe not quite enough to pass Aaron’s unreal standard, but the man held his age well. When he was close enough to gauge, Joe observed that the stranger was about six inches shorter than Joe’s hulking frame, easily eighty pounds lighter than Joe’s solid 240#, and definitely twenty years older, but his deep Mediterranean skin was smooth and flush, gentle wrinkles around his eyes and the silver side-burns being the only clues to his true age. Despite his shorter stature, his macho swagger and obvious authority gave him the aura of a big man. The man had heavy black hair covering his strong forearms, and a thick patch of hair stuck out above the collar of his black T-shirt. Typically Middle Eastern, his chest was probably covered with the same man-fur. His dark complexion, exotic features and hair-covered frame fired sexual triggers deep within Joe.
The stranger’s deep-set dark eyes were penetrating, commanding Joe’s gaze. He was no doubt aware of the others’ stares, but he unfailingly held eye contact only with Joe. The man’s face was warm, but not over- friendly, and Joe now noticed that the thick mustache was more salt and pepper. His lips were blood-red, and sensual.
As the man reached Joe, the muscle-jock stepped back reflexively, not from fear, more from the physical presence that extended out from the older man. The crowd was trans-fixed, and waited for the man to speak.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” the stranger’s deep, manly voice broke the silence of the crowd. “Happy Birthday, Aaron!” The man extended his hand out toward Aaron, but his smiling face never once left Joe’s. “Huh, hmmm,” Aaron began, annoyed, aware that his planned practical joke would not happen. “It’s my birthday, I’m Aaron!” The stranger’s face hardened. He quickly shot a stern gaze at Aaron, breaking the mesmerizing hold on Joe. “I know, young man, and my best to you on this important day, but I actually came here tonight to meet Joe, not you.” The gathered crowd gasped, both at the insult, but more from confusion. All eyes shifted to Joe, whose face appeared as confused as anyone’s.
“Um, sorry, sir have we ever met?” Joe stammered. The stranger’s heated eyes again locked on to Joe’s, a fiery flicker of lust penetrating into Joe and reigniting the deep-smoldering awakening in the big muscled jock. “Not in person, boy, but we’ve known each other for some time online. I’m Hassan Ra’an Assan, but you will call me Daddy.” Aaron, Chip, and the crowd laughed briefly, but then hushed, realizing the man hadn’t intended his comment as a joke. Aaron scoffed, then spoke. “Just what do you mean, old man? Sorry, ‘Daddy’ Osama bin Whack-Job?” Aaron’s voice dripped with agitated anger.
“Yes, of course, my apologies,” the man turned his entire body toward Aaron. “You see, Aaron, I am Joe’s gift to you. Well, part of the gift, anyway. Joe, here, is frustrated and finished with you, Chip, and the rest of the sheep in your flock. Joe is embarrassed to be part of your little silly court of fools. His gift to you on your birthday is to finally tell you what a selfish, self-serving brat you really are, right Joe?” Joe, stunned, and completely confused by the stranger’s statement, staggered backwards, his mind in shock. The room began to spin as Joe felt helpless and overcome.
“Is that true, Joe?” Chip interrupted, “do you really feel that way?” Joe stuttered back, “Well, uh, yeah, but NO! I mean, NO! I don’t know who this man is, and I swear that I’ve never said anything like that to anyone, I swear!”
Aaron, now fully enraged, turned his viper tongue on the intruder. “Listen, rag-head, I don’t know who you think you are, barging in here, making up crap like this, ruining my day, but you’ve got two seconds to get your Arab ass the fuck out of my sight, or I’ll…”
“Or you’ll what, Aaron, scratch me with your little claws?” the man questioned the angered queen, his body language suddenly fierce and imposing, his size seemingly much larger and stronger than the pumped-up Aaron. Aaron drew back, intimidated by the older man’s confident stance. “Please,” the stranger snorted in disgust, “you don’t have it in you, son! And by the way, I am of Persian blood, not Arab, proud Persian lineage! You will remember this!” Turning his attention back to Joe, the man continued. “Joe, my sexy muscle-boy, it’s going to be fine, in fact, it is going to be exactly what you dream of every night. I know because I control those dreams. I own your dreams.” Joe shifted nervously, his confusion softening slightly as the man spoke further. “Joe, tell your ‘friends’ here what you do each night?”
The crowd tightened in to hear Joe’s timid response. “Uh, well, nothing really. After work, I go to the gym, work out, go home, check my emails, watch Sports Center, and go to bed. I don’t do anything unusual, honest!”
“That’s what I have allowed you to believe to be true, Joe, but now you will remember the whole truth, boy.” The man addressed the crowd. “Aaron, since you like games, you’ll especially appreciate this. You see, six weeks ago, your curious friend Joe visited SLAVEMASTER2000, a hypnosis induction website owned by the Slave Master. The website challenges the innocent viewer to play the Slave Master’s game of submission. Each turn of the page leads the game player deeper under the control of the Slave Master. It starts with innocent suggestions, and flashing words, encouraging compliance and feeding the inner hunger to obey. For the man or boy already prone to submissive ideas, the site is narcotic. Each time a willing subject returns to the site, he is more and more aroused, more and more susceptible. He is encouraged to surrender his will to the Slave Master, piece by piece, incrementally giving control of his body and mind over to one more powerful than himself. Joe was a perfect subject. He eagerly submitted, and soon obeyed only the commands of the Slave Master. Joe visited the site without fail each night, deepening his conditioning, rewarded for his obedience with a deeper and deeper trance of slavery. Finally, Joe’s complete submission demanded he write a pledge of obedience to the Slave Master, begging Him to provide him a Daddy, a perfect master to take complete control over him, to own him, to be his entire world. Two weeks ago, the Slave Master contacted me with Joe’s pledge and detailed pictures. The next night, I contacted Joe, and began my personal induction program. I have instructed Joe, molded him to become my perfect slave. Though we have never met, I have taught him to respond to all of my commands, and only my commands. Every night, Joe performs a series of rituals, reinforcing his mental slavery, practicing for his final induction. You see, Aaron, you were Joe’s master before, an unwanted master that could never give Joe what he needed. Now, I am the Master that will take him from you. I already hold Joe’s mind captive; tonight, I will take his beautiful sculpted body. Joe has told me of his deepest need, to serve a strong, mature Daddy. I am that man, a man you will never be. Soon, with Joe’s rejection of you and your childish clique, Joe will make his final surrender to me. Tonight, I will become Joe’s absolute master, and you will be wiped from his memory. Joe desires this, and I will enjoy watching you as I free Joe from your bonds and bring him to his only calling as my perfect boy.”
The speechless crowd watched as Hassan turned again toward Joe. They were unsure if this was just an elaborate hoax, but deep down most felt that this transformation might actually occur. All eyes fell on the huge muscled, masculine Joe. Joe timidly returned the glances, a desperate plea of innocence across his face. Deep inside, Joe felt the truth of Hassan’s words begin to congeal, their truth hardening and becoming reality. He began to remember the flashing cadence of control words from the website, the erotic stimulation and pleasure of the long hypnotic sessions, the delicious surrender to the power of the unseen Slave Master. Joe’s mind fought to suppress the rising images of himself naked, on his knees, obediently letting the spoken words of his pledge cross his lips, their simple utterance sparking powerful orgasms which pulled him deeper, further under the Slave Master’s control. He began to vaguely remember the nightly rituals, the repetitive chanting in front of the mirror, the empty yearning, the longing need to feel the cock of a powerful man, a Daddy, deep inside him.
The crowd watched Joe, the big muscle-jock, visibly shaking, as these memories began to surface. Joe’s eyes kept darting from face to face, trying to plead his innocence, only to be returned with questioned blank stares from Aaron, Chip, and the others. When Joe’s eyes accidently darted across Hassan’s handsome, strong-featured face, Joe froze, and his posture relaxed slightly. Joe tentatively smiled, like a child caught red-handed stealing a cookie, weighing out his options. Joe knew that resistance was impossible, he had been betrayed by a most basic need still locked inside him. Joe couldn’t tear his glance from the handsome stranger’s solid gaze. He didn’t want to. The world beyond the eyes of Hassan was spinning; the only steady thing was the solid gaze of the powerful Persian man.
“Joey, look at me, focus only on me, boy,” the older man began. “Joey, Your leash is ready! Daddy’s here. Joey, Your leash is ready!”
Given the build-up, the gathered crowd expected to see an explosion of emotion from Joe, or at least a violent reaction. Instead, when Hassan spoke that hypnotic phrase, Joe’s eyes closed for only a second longer than it would take him to blink. When the huge muscle jock reopened his eyes, the only difference appeared to be that he instantly recognized the older Hassan. Only when he spoke was the change apparent. “Daddy! I am ready to serve you!” Joe’s voice was calm, and seemed somehow more innocent. Joe stood up straight, his body fully relaxed. His eyes were dilated, not like he was drugged, rather like he was aroused by passion.
“Joey,” Hassan began, “do you know me?”
“Of course, sir, you are my Daddy, sir, and I love to please my Daddy,” the handsome jock replied. The crowd giggled nervously, bewildered at the sight of a macho stud like Joe acting like a little boy. Hassan continued, “Yes, Joey, I am your Daddy. Tell these other boys here how you want to please Daddy.” The crowd pressed in as Joe again spoke, his voice and actions like a child in a school play, reciting rehearsed lines. “I am Joey. I am the big, strong muscle-boy of Daddy Hassan. He is my Master. I serve my Daddy with my mind, soul and body. I obey every command. I train my body and mind to bring him pleasure. I ask only to be filled with Daddy’s manly seed. I worship only Daddy.”
“Very good, Joey! Now show your friends how obedient you are. Remove your shirt and kneel before your Master.” Joe pulled his tight tee over his head and dropped it to the ground. He then knelt in front of Hassan and placed his hands at parade rest behind his back. The crowd looked quietly at the huge muscle-boy, utterly obedient to the smaller Persian man. Joe stared straight ahead at Hassan’s belly, unaware of everything else. Hassan removed his shirt, exposing a manly pelt of curly black hair which started at his neck and flowed across his firm pecs and swirled around two warm-pink nipples, then down across his slightly rounded belly, disappearing into the waistband of his jockstrap. The top band of his jock held firm to his flesh, separated from his jeans, which extended out increasingly as the older man’s crotch swelled. Just above the waistband, partly obscured by the black hairs, was a small tattoo with the words “Good Boy” scripted in Persian-styled lettering. Joe stared only at those words. Hassan’s smile broadened as he looked down at the giant young jock obediently waiting before him. Confident that he held complete control, he turned to the slack-jawed crowd. “Joey will obey only me now, and soon I will wipe you all from his memory, granting him peace in my service. But first, I will show you the best reward of Joe’s submission.”
As Hassan spoke, Tony the bartender pushed through the crowd and knelt next to Joe. “Master Hassan, I have done as you asked, sir, the doors are locked, and people are only allowed to leave. You will not be disturbed.” Hassan looked down at the obedient bartender and reached out, patting him on the head. “Thank you, Tony, the Slave Master will be pleased when he hears of your obedience. Soon, he will reward you with a Master of your own. You may go.” Tony withdrew and stood, then pushed back through the crowd, unaware of the stares of the group.
At this point, Aaron had had enough. “What the fuck is going on here? Who is this Slave Master, and exactly how many of you freaks are there?” Chip pulled Aaron back and shushed him. “Aaron, maybe we’d just better go. Come on, everyone, let’s just leave and head over to Legends, O.K?” None of the others moved; they just kept watching Hassan and Joe. As Chip moved to pull Aaron from the crowd, Aaron pulled away. He walked up to the kneeling jock and reached out, grabbing Joe at the bicep. Joe broke his stare at Hassan’s tattoo and turned his firm gaze on his former friend. His face was not angry, but it was firm. He grabbed Aaron’s hand firmly, and pulled it from his arm. Joe spoke. “Aaron, you are no longer my friend, in fact, you never have been. You are mean-spirited and shallow, and I wish I had never met you. I have found my rightful place now. I am here, on my knees before my true Master. He is all I need. I release you from my memory. I do not know you. Leave me in peace. I hope someday you may know the complete joy of finding a master, like I have.” Joe’s eyes left Aaron’s and he looked up at Hassan. “Master, I will serve only you. Please, cleanse me of my past, wipe the memories of Aaron from my mind and forgive me for the times I was mean or cruel to others.”
Hassan looked passionately down on Joe. “Yes, boy, you are cleansed. You are free of the memories of Aaron, Chip, and the other mean boys. Daddy is here, and you need only him.” Hassan turned to Aaron. “Aaron, you need to find peace. Someday, you will learn that you are only complete when you are completely worthy of ownership by the Slave Master. You may leave, the rest of you may remain, to witness Joey’s complete induction.”
Aaron scanned the crowd. “Fine, whatever, have your fun. Come on, everyone, let’s go.” As Aaron turned to leave, no one went with him. He turned back. “Come on, guys, I said ‘let’s go.’ Chip, are you coming?” Chip’s eyes scanned back and forth between Hassan, Joe and Aaron. Finally, he turned to Aaron. “Um, listen, Aaron, Daddy Hassan only said that you had to go. Um, well, I kind of want to watch, so, um, I’ll call you later, O.K.?” Aaron, stunned, stared at his former wing-man Chip. Then, without words, he turned from the crowd, defeated, and left, leaving the entire crowd of patrons still gathered around Hassan and Joe.
When Aaron had left, Hassan looked down at Joe. “Joey, it is time. I am going to take you here, before the crowd that was once your life. I am going to fill you with my Daddy cock, and claim you as my property. Follow me.” Hassan turned and walked over to the dance floor, to the point where the floor length mirror was. Joe rose from his feet and followed obediently. The crowd stood still for a moment, then drifted along behind Joe, and formed a semi-circle around Hassan and Joe at the mirror, silently observing, patiently waiting to see this spectacle.
Joe stood before Hassan, his giant muscles rippling, his posture obedient. Hassan reached out and touched Joe’s handsome face. “Joe, I claim you as my boy. Remove your clothes and face the mirror.” Joe responded, “Yes, Daddy, I obey.” Joe began to strip his boots and jeans, then his jockstrap. Soon, he stood before the mirror naked, his huge muscles on full display, his erect cock jutting out, pulsing eagerly. His eyes stared straight ahead, returning his own gaze. It was obvious to the crowd that this was a ritual which Joe had practiced many times before.
Hassan circled the entranced Joe. He surveyed Joe’s naked form. He gently stroked Joe’s perfect, square butt, caressing the muscled ass with a firm, owning stroke. He ran his hands up across Joe’s V-shaped back, grabbing the full rounded shoulders, then slid his hands down along Joe’s big, bulging biceps. Moans of arousal escaped the crowd, but no one consciously made any other sound. As Hassan walked in front of Joe, between him and the mirror, Joe never broke eye contact with his own gaze. The shorter man approached Joe, standing square-on before the mesmerized bodybuilder. Hassan reached out with both hands and massaged Joe’s massive pecs. Then his hands tightened, taking Joe’s nipples between his fingers. As Hassan firmly pinched Joe’s erect nipples, Joe twitched slightly, then, as if practiced many times before, Joe spoke. “I am Joey. I am the slave-boy of Daddy Hassan. I serve only Daddy. I am Joey. I am the slave-boy of Daddy Hassan. I serve only Daddy. I am Joey . . .” Joe’s chanting became quieter, but his repetition of the hypnotic cadence continued. Hassan, obviously pleased, released Joey’s nipples and walked again around his slave. He eyed the crowd, smiling a conquering smile. When he reached Joe’s beautiful backside, he placed his hand in between Joe’s glutes. He used his left foot to spread Joe’s feet wider apart, opening the cleft of his ass-cheeks, and broadening Joe’s stance. “Joey,” Hassan spoke, “flex and pose for Daddy.”
Joe assumed a bodybuilder pose. His arms pointed out and up, biceps clenched, his broad chest expanded, showing off his massive chest and tight abs. His legs, spread in the broad stance, flexed and twitched, holding Joe’s heavy frame up. The longer Joe held the pose, the more his strong legs fatigued. Soon, his legs were visibly shaking, their massive quads and glutes convulsing. Joe’s face began to flush, and his cock jerked violently about, the muscles yearning to release the pose. Hassan opened the fly of his jeans and slid them down to his thighs. He reached down and slid his huge Persian cock out of the pouch of his jockstrap. The crowd gasped as Hassan’s freed man tool extended to its’ full length. It arced up and out from his crotch, a massive ten-plus inch weapon. Hassan’s enormous cock had a dark-skinned shaft extending up from two large testicles which were covered in black, bristly hairs. At the top of the shaft, Hassan’s ample foreskin encased the cockhead, swollen and red, the cock slit large and oozing pre-cum. The crowd salivated at the site of Hassan’s huge organ.
Hassan showed off his man tool proudly to the crowd, letting it swing freely from side to side as it extended even further out from his crotch. When it reached its’ fullest length, the foreskin peeled back from the cockhead, exposing the full size of Hassan’s crown. He sneered at the crowd then turned his attentions back to Joe. “Joey, my slave, have you ever been fucked?”
“No, sir, Daddy, no man has ever fucked me.” Joe’s response was clear, but strained from muscle fatigue.
“Excellent, boy. Now listen. I am going to place my cock up against your asshole. You will resist letting my cock penetrate you, no matter how much you desire to be fucked. With every last part of your will, you will resist, until your muscles can no longer fight. When you are unable to resist, your ass will allow my cock to penetrate your hole, and with that surrender, your mind will follow your body. I will own you completely. With your surrender, I will own you, mind and body. Understand?”
“Yes, Daddy, I will resist until I must obey.” Joe’s voice was tortured.
Hassan shifted up behind the straining muscle-boy, and directed his 10-plus inch cock into the cleft of Joe’s ass. He lined up the swollen head against Joe’s sphincter. Joe’s twitching muscles convulsed, and his face strained as he resisted the large cock perched at his gateway. Hassan slowly pressed up and in toward Joe’s hole, and Joe rocked back and forth, denying Hassan’s tool entry. Each gentle thrust caused Joe’s muscles to strain further. Soon, Joe was shaking violently from the strain. His face and neck were tensed, and every tendon and vein on his magnificent form bulged out. Joe kept repeating his hypnotic trance, the volume increasing with each cycle.
Finally, Joe’s body could no longer resist. Joe let out a final shout. “Daddy, please, I can’t hold out. I submit. Fuck me, Daddy” Joe bellowed. His legs made one last spasm, and Joe collapsed. Joe’s muscles yielded, and his boy-hole opened. Hassan’s huge cock surged up and into Joe. The power of the invasion let Hassan’s cock bury completely up into the bodybuilder’s bowels. Both men screamed from the complete penetration. Joe fell forward onto his hands and knees, and the smaller man, unable to separate his captured cock from the muscle jock’s clenched ass, fell forward onto Joe’s back.
Regaining his balance, Hassan braced himself against Joe’s big shoulders. The crowd watched as Hassan’s ass flexed up and down pile-driving the full magnitude of his cock deep into the submissive bodybuilder. “Joey, I am going to cum. I am going to fill your hot ass with my seed. Fuck, boy, take my man-seed,” Hassan screamed. “Yes, Daddy, Yes! Take my ass, fill me with your cum.” Joe had regained his strength, and he worked his muscled ass back and forth, ramming back to meet each of Hassan’s thrusts. In just a few violent strokes, Hassan’s body went rigid, his tool fully embedded in Joe’s ass. Hassan’s eyes rolled back, and he unloaded, his cum pulsing out of his cock in rhythmic waves, his scalding seed ripping into Joe. As the older man fired off into him, Joe went stiff and froze. Then, he whimpered and his body shook. His own cock, untouched, arced out and shot its’ load, volleys of jism wildly careening out. The first shot landed on his chin, the second splattered across his left pec. The remaining shots fired into the air, landing on the floor beneath the behemoth muscle-jock.
After about a minute spent locked together in climax, Hassan was able to regain his composure. Hassan dismounted the big bodybuilder, extracting his huge spent tool from Joe’s ass. He stood up and stretched his strong body. As the crowd watched, Hassan walked around in front of Joe and held out his softening cock before him. Joe smiled up at Hassan and opened his mouth, receiving his Master’s cock. The crowd was silent, but several of the men had fallen to their knees respectfully. Many were openly fisting their own cocks, some had even cum in their own underwear. The whole bar smelled of man-scent and man-seed.
Finally, Hassan’s cock cleaned and semi-flaccid, he removed it from Joe’s mouth. “Come, Joey, we have spread the word of the Slave Master. I am going to take you home now. You are mine completely, and I will teach you more about serving.”
“Yes, Daddy, thank you Daddy,” Joe responded.
With that, the two men redressed and left the bar. Only after they had left did anyone else move or speak. None present were quite sure of what had happened, but none present were ever the same after watching.
Aaron never returned to the bar after that night, and no one ever spoke his name again. About one month after the event, Lola’s closed its’ doors. A new bar replaced Lola’s a month later. It became the most popular gay bar in town. Chip and Tony owned the new bar. They decided to call the new bar The Leash. It was a quiet, respectable bar. The young men that showed up there night after night had to complete an on-line membership and sign a pledge of conduct. The selected members always behaved with courtesy and respect, almost a trance-like obedience. The pre-screened sexy older men were allowed free entry. They always found the young men at The Leash so earnest and eager to please. They were beautiful and well-built. They had no rude egos. They always dressed up in jeans and tees, or maybe the odd military fatigues or sailor uniform. They always waited respectfully to be approached by the mature men. They took instruction well. The back room was usually crowded. The young men were eager to please, sucking and getting fucked, sharing freely their beautiful bodies. Every month, the bar held a special ritual, when the bar would celebrate the long term relationships of the couples that had met at The Leash. Hassan and his boy Joey were always honored guests on that night.
The Slave Master was pleased.