Daddy's Decision

I slowly blinked awake, grumbling. I'd gone to bed late last night, and my bleary eyes weren't happy about the sunlight streaming into my room. My phone buzzed with a notification, and I picked it up to check the time: almost noon. Ah well, not like I had anywhere to be.

I slipped out of bed and into the shower, letting the warm water wash the lingering sleepiness away. My hole was still a little sore from the businessman I'd ridden last night, another in a long string of fun but forgettable hookups. Ever since leaving college last year, I'd mostly ignored my dad's gentle pushes to find a job and a direction in favor of dick and weed. I kept telling myself I'd get it together starting Monday, but week after week came and went without my brain magically getting its act together.

I sighed. I knew Dad was right, I needed to get back on track sooner or later, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Everything used to come to me so easily, but college was so hard and I just couldn't take it. He'd been sympathetic at first, but I could tell his patience was wearing thin. He'd barely even talk to me when he got home from work anymore, and I knew he could tell I was lying when I told him about jobs I'd applied for that day.

At least the hookups were fun. If one good thing had come out of my brief, unsuccessful collegiate career, it was the blossoming of my sex drive. I'd downloaded Grindr my first night in the dorms and threw myself into it with aplomb. I'd never had much interest in sticking my dick in things, so I advertised myself as a bottom. In a big city like mine with a litany of thriving businesses, there was no shortage of older guys looking for a pretty young thing to use.

Some of them liked to give me brief little entrees into the world of kink. A pair of handcuffs here, a blindfold there, the occasional spanking. One of them, a tattooed guy built like a mountain, liked to choke me and blow cigar smoke in my face while he pounded me. That was a particularly fun night.

I stepped out of the shower, towelling my hair dry. The only thing I really put much effort into anymore was my appearance; it was just about all I could take pride in. I looked like a stereotypical twink: big baby blue eyes, pouty lips, a slim frame and a mop of blond hair that always seemed to fall across my eyes. I still hadn't grown a follicle of body hair, much to my embarrassment. Standing at 5'4", I'd been asked for ID at more than one hookup. Most of my partners didn't seem to mind, some of them seemed to really like it.

I slipped into a pair of pajama pants and padded down the stairs to fix myself some breakfast, stopping in my tracks when I saw Dad waiting in the kitchen, arms crossed and a frown on his face. Shit, I thought to myself when I saw his expression. I told him I'd come to his office today! Dad was a high-powered corporate lawyer, with a client list to rival the average Senator. "I skipped a meeting with Tim Cook for this," he said, his low voice tinged with anger.

My blood ran cold. Dad didn't get angry much, and he had a long fuse. But when it burned out, you didn't want to be anywhere nearby. "Da-" I tried to offer an excuse, but he just held up a hand. "Don't even bother Cody," he said, his gaze ice-cold. "Don't bother with another bullshit excuse." He took a step toward me, his muscular, 6'3" frame towering over me. "I know you don't mean it." He hadn't raised his voice at all, but I could feel his fury. "I've spent a whole year giving you chance after chance to step up and be an adult, but you just want to coast and get high and get fucked." I sputtered indignantly, but he just held his hand up again, taking another step toward me.

"You think I don't know what you're doing every night?" he snapped as I took a step back. "How stupid do you think I am, Cody? You come back at god-knows-what time every night, giggling like a moron and smelling like a skunk's asshole. What the fuck am I supposed to think you're up to?" My face burned bright red as I searched through my mind for another explanation, coming up empty. He was right, after all. He stepped toward me again, leaning down so his deep brown eyes were staring directly into mine.

"You're a faggot," he said, matter-of-factly. My eyes went wide. He didn't say it with malice, or intent to insult; he was merely stating the obvious. "You go out night after night and take cock after cock because you're a dirty little faggot. Aren't you?" I opened my mouth to protest, to deny it, but no words came out. I could only stand silently as he wrapped one of his huge hands around my neck, squeezing lightly. "I asked you a question, faggot."

There was no cruelty in his tone, and the anger in his voice had faded. He simply spoke in a calm, commanding tone that burrowed deep into some primal corner of my brain. My breath caught in my throat and I bit my lip. I detected the faintest hint of a smile playing at his lips. "Can you even speak right now, faggot?" I bit down on my lip harder, afraid of what I'd say if I allowed myself to open my mouth. I curled my toes and balled my fists, trying to suppress the feelings welling up inside me that I knew were wrong. Wrong. Right?

He saw the confusion in my eyes and the smile on his lips grew. "Oh, I get it," he said, his grip growing tighter around my neck. Suddenly, his other hand shot forward and firmly grabbed my package. I gasped, trying to jump back in shock but I was unable to pull away from Dad's firm grasp. "My Cody, the little faggot," he said, no longer needing words to confirm what my body made obvious. "No wonder you've fucked every businessman in town. You never knew how to ask for what you wanted the whole time."

A barrage of conflicting emotions washed over my mind. Was he right? The fact that I was starting to hump against his hand without even thinking about it certainly seemed to indicate that he was. I looked into his eyes to see his gaze, still hard and assured and deeply intimidating. Without warning, he spun me around and pulled me tight against his chest, forcing his hand down my pants and roughly playing with my cock. "Don't worry about telling me I'm right, little faggot," he hissed in my ear as I gasped with a powerful mix of pain and pleasure. "I'm not even sure if you can anymore."

My cock had swollen to its full 4", and Dad chuckled. "I really should've figured this out sooner Cody," he said as he stroked over my precum-soaked head. "With a little nub like this, you were never suited to become a man." My brain was screaming at me to protest, to fight him, but I could only sink into his grip and let out a shaky, breathy moan. I'd never felt anything like this before. Sure, I'd been submissive to guys before, but none of them had ever been so sure of themselves, so confident and so strident with effortless degradation. "I hope you're enjoying the gentle treatment, faggot," he said as he took me right up to the edge of orgasm. "Your future won't be quite so comfortable." I whimpered, but it wasn't fear that filled my mind. It was anticipation, even impatience. Dad had unlocked something in me.

"Y-yes S-Sir," I managed to stammer out, taken by surprise with how high and weak my voice sounded. Dad chuckled again, the gravelly sound like angel's music to my ears. "Not Sir," he said as he squeezed tight around my cock. "Daddy." I moaned, much louder than before. "Yes Daddy!"

With that, he bit down hard at the base of my neck, making me cry out. He clamped a hand roughy over my mouth, turning my pained squeal into a muffled moan. "My faggot ought to be marked as such," he growled, his mouth still full of my skin. I squirmed in his grip, but he took his sweet time, making sure that the mark stuck. Once he was confident the hickey would be obvious to anyone so much as glancing at me, he repeated the process on the other side of my neck, squeezing his hand tighter around my mouth to keep me quiet.

"I'll be sure to keep those marks fresh every morning," he said as he took his free hand and pulled my arms behind my back, effortlessly pinning both my hands with one of his. "But for now, daddy needs to get his faggot dressed for his new life." Taking his hand off my mouth and instead gripping me by the throat, he effortlessly hefted me up and threw me over his shoulder. "Make a single sound and I'll beat your ass until you can't sit right for a month, faggot," he said, a primal growl in his voice. I'd never heard him sound like that, and it made my cock twitch. He was an animal, and I was his prey.

He took me out to the garage, popping the trunk on his Mercedes. He laid me down, picking up a roll of duct tape and securing my wrists and ankles. I pulled on the bonds, but I clearly wasn't going anywhere. Daddy looked down at me, that faint smile pulling at the corners of his mouth once again. "Just needs a few finishing touches," he said as he grabbed my thin pajama pants and easily ripped them off. I gasped, now fully exposed, and he took the opportunity to force a sweaty gym sock in my mouth. I gagged at the musky flavor, but before I could spit it out he wrapped the roll of tape around my head over and over again.

I moaned in protest, but I could do nothing to stop him as the rancid sock was now tightly secured in my mouth. "I've been wearing that sock to the gym every day for the last two months," Daddy said as he grabbed my feet and slowly started pulling them up toward the back of my head. "All for you, little faggot." "Mmmppphhhh?!" I shouted into my gag, alarmed. "Oh do you think I did this out of the blue, Cody?" he asked, laughing. "I've been planning this for months! Ever since the first time I found cum stains on your jeans." I blushed fiercely as he pressed the soles of my feet against the back of my head. "You were always so bendy, faggot. That's going to come in handy."

Daddy taped my feet into place, leaving me in a brutally tight hogtie. I was flexible enough that it wasn't agonizing, but the position was certainly painful. Unfortunately, Daddy didn't particularly seem to care. In fact, judging by the growing bulge in his tight slacks, he quite enjoyed the idea that my position was causing me pain. And my own cock was still hard as a nail, so my brain certainly wasn't upset with my predicament. He gave me a mocking little wave as he slammed the trunk door shut, starting the car and driving off.

I quickly lost track of how long I'd been trapped in the trunk as Daddy seemed to drive on for hours, leaving me to squirm helplessly in the tight tape hogtie. It had taken all of 20 minutes for him to transform me into a totally willing faggot, and it had seemed effortless for him. And the more I thought about it, the hazier and happier my mind felt with my situation. For the last year, the only times I'd really felt happy had been when I was under an older man. It stood to reason that Daddy deciding to take control of me would make me all the happier.

Daddy cut an intimidating figure. He always dressed in sharp, tailored suits, hiding the extensive tattoos underneath. He was muscular, but not overly so, displaying a quiet confidence that he was as strong as he needed to be without being ostentatious. His brown eyes had always been comforting to me growing up, but now their gaze indicated his complete, inescapable control over me. Even thinking about him made my head get foggy. I giggled happily into my gag, squirming fruitlessly in the tape.

Finally, the car pulled to a stop and Daddy popped the trunk, making me squint against the bright California sunlight. "We're here faggot," he said as he easily lifted me out of the trunk and carried me inside the back door of what looked like a large warehouse. If I hadn't been tightly gagged, my jaw would've dropped.

Surrounding me was a massive supply of kinky gear, more than I could've ever imagined. One whole wall was filled with various restraints, from straitjackets to a huge metal cage. I saw a long shelf filled with leather hoods that looked kind of like hollow dog heads, only made of leather and neoprene. Before I could fully take in everything I was looking at, a well-built man in a leather vest and chaps walked up to us with a warm smile on his face.

"Paul!" he said, his voice jovial. "And this must be little faggot Cody," he said, tweaking my nipples and chuckling at my indignant squeak. "You're a very lucky boy," he said as he gave Daddy a peck on the cheek. "Half the boys in this city would kill to be in your position." I cocked my head, confused. Daddy chuckled. "What, faggot, you thought you were the only one getting laid?" I blushed. Before today, the idea of Daddy being gay had never even crossed my mind.

Daddy cut the tape off me, allowing me to stretch out my cramped arms and legs, but only momentarily. Daddy snapped his fingers and the other man spun me around and locked my wrists in a heavy pair of leather cuffs, securing them with a heavy padlock. I noticed the other man was biting his lip much like I did. Clearly I wasn't the only faggot under Daddy's influence. He slapped the other man firmly on the ass, making him let out a decidedly unmasculine yelp. "Let's give my new faggot the tour, Scout," he said, making the other man blush. "Oh, don't think that you're getting off the hook just because he's beneath you now." Scout bit his lip again. "Of course Sir," he said. I felt myself flush with pride. Apparently I was the only one who got to call him Daddy.

Scout fastened a thick leather collar around my neck, padlocking it into place and clipping a leash to it. Yanking on it hard, he led me around the store, explaining the purpose of every single piece of gear with exhaustive detail, accompanied by repeated firm smacks to my ass, balls and cock. I yelped every time; my pain tolerance had never been high and Scout was not being gentle. But I couldn't really do anything to stop him, and I noted with apprehension that my cock had not gotten any softer. If anything, it was getting harder and leaking more. Daddy noted the trail of precum I left in my wake with a smirk. "You'll be cleaning that up before we go, faggot," he said, his voice sending a shiver up my spine.

Scout stopped in front of a glass display case, with several strange metal devices inside. Daddy came up in front of me and suddenly pressed an ice pack into my dick. I squeaked, trying to pull away, but Scout held me firmly in place as the ice slowly shrank my rock-hard shaft as small as it went, barely half an inch. Daddy opened the display case and pulled out one of the devices. It was a small metal ring with a short, solid metal tube extending out of it, with a small barrel lock in the middle. It didn't take a genius to figure out where it was going.

"This is a chastity cage, Cody," he said as he unlocked the tube from the ring. "As my faggot, you will wear it 24 hours a day, seven days a week, no exceptions," he said, smiling slightly at my despaired whimper. "It will prevent you from ever getting hard again, and I don't ever plan on removing it while you're conscious. In time, you'll learn to enjoy it." I wasn't so sure, but it wasn't like I could do anything to stop him, so I just decided to trust Daddy.

He slipped the ring into place around my cock and balls, working quickly before his manipulation of my package got me hard again. Scout squeezed his arm tight around my neck as Daddy locked the tube in place, leaving my poor cock locked away for good. I gave him my best attempt at puppy eyes, but he didn't even notice. "Don't bother trying to beg, faggot," he said as he gave my cage a tug. "Daddy always gets what he wants. Isn't that right Scout?" The man holding me in place nodded. "Yes Sir. Always."

To prove his point, Daddy pulled Scout off me and yanked his chaps off, revealing an identical cage. "Scout begged me to lock him in this years ago, faggot," Daddy said as he pulled the smaller man against his chest. "He didn't think of the consequences though. He hasn't had a real man's orgasm in more than a decade. Do you even remember what it feels like, Scout?" Blushing furiously, he shook his head no.

Daddy chuckled. "Good puppy. Now I want you to take the faggot and pick out 10 pieces of gear you know I don't already have. Choose poorly and you're going in that cage for a week." He pointed to the display cage and Scout tried and failed to suppress a whimper. "Chop chop!" Scout firmly tugged on my leash and led me back into the store, first picking out a heavy leather hood, with what appeared to be one tiny airhole. "Just got this hood in last week, faggot," he said, giving me an evil grin. "It gives you just enough air to stay conscious, but only just. I bet when your Daddy fucks you in this, you'll be breathing so hard you'll pass out cold. My eyes fluttered at the thought of Daddy fucking me. I'd never even seen his cock, outside of his bulge anyway. I could tell it was huge though.

Scout wasted no time, picking out several pieces of heavy-duty gear I had never seen before. He presented it all to Daddy, who nodded with approval. "Well done pup," he said, and Scout let out an audible sigh of relief. "But I said 10 pieces, not nine." Scout's eyes went wide, but before he knew it, Daddy pounced. He pulled a rag he'd been concealing from his back pocket, a sweet scent emanating from it. He pressed it over the smaller man's mouth and nose, and the chloroform quickly worked its way into Scout's system. His fierce struggles slowly faded away until he went limp on the floor, out cold.

Lifting him up as though he were a kitten, Daddy carried Scout over to the cage, cuffing his hands and feet before locking him inside. "I'll call the owner and tell him the situation, don't worry," Daddy said, cluing in on my worried expression. "He'll be perfectly safe. Humiliated and exposed, but safe." Scout shifted in his sleep, but Daddy simply turned and led me out of the store, taking the selected merchandise with him.

As we left the store, a twink was entering. Daddy pressed his hand into his chest, and the boy's breath caught in his throat. "Hello Tiger," he said, his voice dropping to a low growl. The nerdy-looking boy blushed. "H-hi Sir," he stammered out as Daddy's hand drifted down to his package. "Busy today?" Daddy asked as he slipped his hand down Tiger's form-fitting shorts. "W-well, I-" the boy began, but he stopped as Daddy pressed a finger to his lips. "You are now. Strip, lay down in the trunk and put your hands behind your back." Tiger moaned happily and immediately complied.

I was stunned. Daddy's power was captivating; these people were completely under his spell. He caught my gaze and smirked. "Scout wasn't kidding, faggot. I have quite the presence in this town." He released my cuffs and indicated toward the trunk. "Go make sure our guest is secure, faggot." I nodded hard, still tightly gagged. That sock was beginning to taste pretty good.

I looked Tiger up and down as he lay obediently in the trunk, his hands clasped behind his back. He was built like me, but taller, with thick glasses and brown hair. I fastened the cuffs around his wrists with some difficulty, not knowing how to handle the expensive, complicated cuffs. Tiger eagerly instructed me on how to fasten them in order to keep him properly restrained; it certainly seemed as though this wasn't his first time. Once the cuffs were secured, I turned to go back to Daddy, only to find him shoving a pair of chloroform-soaked rags in our faces. We both squirmed weakly, but didn't really resist as Daddy forced us into dreamland.

When I awoke, I found myself completely motionless. I was trapped in a kneeling position, with thick leather straps keeping me perfectly in place. I felt a metal hook in my nostrils pulling my head back, with string running from the hook to the heavy leather collar still fastened around my neck. I opened my eyes to see a room lined with just as much gear as the store, all polished and kept at the highest quality. I saw Tiger, still unconscious, hogtied in a web of hundreds of feet of rope, locked in a cage identical to the one Daddy had left Scout in. I heard footsteps behind me, then saw Daddy step out in front of me.