Breaking the Stallion Ch. 01

I just stared at him. "Nice try, big guy. I'll help. This way I'll know how to unlock it in a pinch."

Brock opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it. Under normal (i.e., sober) circumstances, this conversation would be out of the question. But Brock was just buzzed enough to be down to discuss this, without me feeling like a creep for forcing it on him.

"So, like, should you wear gloves?" He looked at me hesitantly.

I rolled my eyes. "Brock, how many times have other guys seen you naked in a locker room? What's the big deal here?"

I knew what the 'big deal' was—Brock had never had his cock held by another guy. Much less an out and proud gay man like myself. The conversation worked out better than I'd intended: Brock was stuck between admitting what the 'big deal' was (thereby coming across as homophobic, offending his best college friend, and ruining his chances with Cindy), or just let this happen. He agreed.

"Y-yeah. You're right. Not a big deal."

Brock slowly lowered his shorts, still sitting on the edge of my dorm room bed. When Brock's shorts came down, I nearly gasped at the member that popped out. Brock was big. Even when fully flaccid, fitting it into the cage would be an ordeal.

I pulled the cage from its package, then bent down to grab Brock's cock. I tried to be quiet as I swallowed the saliva filling my mouth. My motivation to claim Brock as my own redoubled that day.

As I finagled his cock inside the cage, Brock's cock started to grow in my hand. It was difficult to control my breathing. But it was important that I appear calm and collected. If Brock had any idea what I was planning, the whole show would end.

"Ah," Brock said awkwardly, "Sorry 'bout that. It's been a while since I've, you know . . ." He trailed off.

I straightened up (trying to hide my own growing member) and walked to the minifridge. I pulled out a cold can of beer, then held it against Brock's cock. Brock exhaled sharply as the cold metal sucked the heat from his manhood. Slowly, his cock shrunk enough that it would fit in the cage.

I secured the ring around the base of his balls, tightened the small clasp so that it wouldn't come off, then put the cage over the end of his member. I closed the small lock with a 'click.' To both Brock and I, that little click felt like a door shutting on Brock's previous life. Our feeling was correct.

At the party, I watched Brock's mannerisms like a hawk. Frequently, a girl would approach Brock to flirt with him. And without fail, Brock would start shifting himself uncomfortably as his cock strained against its prison. To an unsuspecting onlooker, it probably looked as if he had to go to the bathroom.

Brock was otherwise a good boy. He never left my sight. He didn't spend too much time talking to any girls other than Cindy. And he kept the conversation away from sex. With a little bit of encouragement from me, he got Cindy to agree to go to the movies the following night.

After the party, Brock and I walked together back to the dorm. Brock had started regularly staying the night in the sleeping bag on the floor. After late nights of drinking and studying, I had convinced on numerous occasions that it would be safer for him just to stay at my place. And staying at my place had thus become a regular habit when we hung out. I was practicing the fourth tenet of breaking a stallion: develop habits.

I broke the silence of our walk. "What did you think of the party, Stud?"

"Amazing! Your advice was hard, but I think it worked. Cindy wanted to go home with me afterward, and when I said 'No,' it seemed like that only made her more interested. We're going out tomorrow."

I was disappointed that Cindy already wanted to fuck him. But not surprised. I would just have to be careful from now on to regulate the space between them.

I looked at him with a grin. "Well good for you! I told you to trust me, didn't I?"

"Yeah, thanks Olly! You have the key on you, right? Let's get this thing off me as soon as we're back."

I paused before answering. "Since you're going out with Cindy tomorrow anyway, shouldn't you just leave it on? You want to be able to control yourself for the first few dates."

"Hey, come on Man. Going home without a girl after these is hard. Do you have any idea how much action I got in high school? I almost want you to unlock me right here so I can rub one out."

I bristled at his crass comment. "So, if I unlock you, you're just going to jack off and then put it back on before your next date?"

Brock's eyes furrowed at my use of the word, 'if.'

"Look Man," Brock started to look angry, "Where is the damn key?"

I didn't respond. Hearkening back to my horse training days, I knew that any emotional response to Brock's outburst would just reinforce the behavior. I stared at him coolly until he spoke again. As I expected, his tone was softer.

"Olly, I think it would be good if you let me out for a bit."

There was a good boy. As planned, I had anchored his context was toward 'if' I let him out, rather than 'when' I let him out. And he spoke more passively.

"Here's the thing, Brock," I spoke slowly and with long pauses. Brock was in a hurry to get to the end of our discussion, and was completely dependent upon my decision, which gave me all the power. "If I let you out, you're just going to blow your load and lose focus. Tonight worked so well because you were focused."

Brock looked crestfallen, but he nodded in agreement.

I continued. "Here's what I'm going to do—I'm going to give you a choice. Option A: You stay locked until after your date. After that, we'll reassess whether you should be let out. Option B: I let you out for a few minutes, but you cum only under my supervision. Which will it be?"

Another psychological trick. This was no longer a discussion of Brock's autonomy. I had narrowed him to two options, either of which conformed to my larger plans for him. Brock felt like he had a choice in the matter, but it was no choice at all. Either way, I was taming this stallion, asserting myself as the authority over him.

"Fine." Brock wasn't happy, but he clearly accepted the parameters I set for him. "It'd be awkward to do that in your dorm anyway. But let's meet up after I drop Cindy off. I need to get this thing off me. Thanks for this, Man."

This was perfect. I was in control over Brock's orgasms. I had set the parameters of his sexuality. And he thought that I was doing him the favor. And tomorrow, I would decide how and when he got his release.

The next day went by quickly. We had no classes on Fridays, so I kept Brock busy by taking him shopping at a local mall. By suggesting outfits for his date, I hoped to further build his trust in my guidance. And something about dressing him up made me unbelievably horny.

Late in the afternoon, Brock was ready to head out to meet Cindy. He was wearing a short-sleeved button-down shirt that I selected. He wore jeans with the cuffs rolled up at my suggestion. He wore an expensive-smelling cologne that I carefully chose for him. The scent was called 'Wild Stallion.' I considered this selection a private joke for myself.

As Brock walked out the door, I slapped him on the ass. "Good luck, Stud!"

His muscular glutes gave a gorgeous bounce. The tight jeans that I picked out for him only accentuated their shape and density. God, I wanted to fuck him.

Brock laughed. "Haven't felt that since my baseball days. Thanks again for all your help, Olly!"

I watched the hours pass impatiently. I couldn't stop thinking about how much I wanted to fuck his muscular ass. I've always been a twink, but I'm dominant and prefer to top. Although, I could certainly see myself sitting on Brock's rigid face.

I went into my bathroom. I was grateful that every dorm had its own private restroom and shower. I grabbed a screwdriver that I kept in the medicine cabinet, stood on the edge of the tub, and pulled off the shower vent cover. There, I kept a small camera.

It hadn't been long into our study sessions that Brock had started showering at my place. Indeed, Brock had a strong musk after he slept (something I didn't mind, even if not appropriate for polite company). So, he regularly showered the morning after our late-night study sessions. Being the pervert that I am, I installed a small camera into the vent above the shower.

I should have felt guilty for filming Brock without his permission. Intellectually, I knew that doing so was illegal. And wrong. But I felt neither guilt nor shame.

Ever since I met Brock, I felt an unhealthy possessiveness over him. As if I had claimed him as my own from Day One. And though I knew that Brock was an autonomous human with his own privacy rights, I felt at a deeper level that Brock was entitled to no privacy from me. I knew that my feelings toward him were psychotic, but I felt entitled to see Brock naked. To watch him. To monitor him. To control him.

I watched the video of Brock showering stream to my laptop. And after I had cum (more than once), I saved it to my archive of similar videos.

Brock was a stallion. Whether he knew it or not, Brock was my stallion. My stallion to do with as I please. And though he didn't know it, I was slowly breaking my stallion.

***TO BE CONTINUED***