Friends United

I'd been best friends with Brad since coming to the US from England as a child. We met at school and since those early years did everything together. He was very outgoing whereas I was passive. Now in our thirties we are still best of friends and even work in the same company. Brad loved motorcycles and ran a successful Harley Davidson parts distribution business. We where supposed to be partners but he made most of the decisions. Not many relationships last that long and involve spending so much time together. Neither of us had married. Brad was the more successful dater. With his large physique and good looks he had the choice of any woman. I on the other hand was not so well endowed. One could say rather slim and effeminate looking but despite our chalk and cheese looks nothing seemed to dampen our friendship.

We both lived in the same town and if Brad wasn't dating saw each other most nights. But despite this great friendship I wanted more. Over the years I had grown to respect him, even love him. I wanted to say so but with no known gay tendencies I risked such an omission would lose him forever.

One night he invited me back for a coffee after we had been out for a few beers - we weren't drunk but merry. We listened to CDs and sat on the same sofa while Brad flicked the channels of the TV, the volume turned down.

'We got to sort your love life out Tomi boy,' he said. 'You haven't laid a bird for months.'

I smirked and felt my face blush. 'I can't seem to find the right woman.' I said.

'Your trouble is you don't know what you want.'

I shrugged my shoulders. Perhaps he was right.

'Tomi, I think you're looking too far a field. We get on well, you want to find someone with my personality.'

My heart freezes and I can't help but look at him with sullen eyes.

He seems my response and looks at me strangely. I say nothing. A minutes passes in silence.

'You don't...,' he says as his mouth almost drops to the floor. 'You don't fancy me.'

I stare at him like a lost child and feel a tear welling in my eye well aware that our relationship was about to end. 'Got to go I say grabbing my coat and running for the door.

Brad rung the following day on my mobile but I didn't reply. I didn't even go into work. I couldn't face seeing him again even if he wanted to. I was in a terrible state. One that I don't like to admit - crying and missing him like a lovesick teenager. My world was torn apart. I was in pain racked with formidable emotional waves. Should I be feeling this way if he didn't see me in the same light? He persisted and rung again after work, I didn't answer. He knocked at my flat and I pretended to be out. I rung in sick. We didn't see each other all week.

That Friday I was at a loss. I had no one to see or nowhere special to go. I walked around the town, hands in pockets feeling sorry for myself. I mused over my situation - I made the break so I shouldn't feel this way and yet I felt abandoned, unloved. I gazed forlornly into the shop window of a ladies fashion boutique so fascinated by all the pretty dresses I didn't hear the footsteps behind me. Suddenly I felt two large hands clamped over my eyes - I thought I was about to be robbed.

'Guess who?' the deep voice growls.

It was easy. 'Hi Brad,' I say sheepishly expecting the worst but he made no mention of the other night. It was as if nothing had happened - I was delighted. He asked me if I was feeling better and he bought me a beer. I'm not sure what was more frustrating. Did I want him to confess to similar feelings or call me a fag and punch me in the face? But saying nothing about the other night was sheer torture.

Later that evening as we chatted and drunk another beer I asked him about his latest girlfriend, Donna.

'I ditched the bitch,' he said calmly. She got too possessive and I saw alarm bells. I haven't heard from her since.' He laughs, 'I've still got a wardrobe full of her stuff - panties, bra, shoes and dresses - the works. What woman does that? I'll miss the bitch.' he sighs, 'still plenty more fish in the sea.'

'I'm surprised,' I said, 'you two got on so well I thought you'd get hitched.'

Brad laughs again and scratches his groin in that masculine way.

'No worries. I treat women like library books - put them back when done.

'Anyone else?' I ask inquisitively.

'Funny you ask.' he grins like a schoolboy, ' I met another girl. Tracey, she was a stunner, long smooth legs, big tits, painted manicured fingernails and a tiny waist. Very similar to my old Donna, they could have been sisters. She had the looks and knew it she teased me on the night flashing her cleavage and showing off her legs in a skimpy tight skirt. Tight bitch accepted my drinks all night then refused to come home with me. I persevered, made another date but then she didn't bother to turn up.' He looked at me quizzically. 'I'm through with birds I think I need to find some other way of enjoying myself.' he gave me a knowing smile and clutched his growing groin again.

My mind went into overdrive. What did he mean? Was he giving me the come on?... Whatever I was determined not to make a fool of myself again so I remained silent.

Very little else was said, life returned to normal. Brad never mentioned my confession and I didn't bring up the subject ever again. But things did change between us. Slowly at first barely recognisable. He would touch me occasionally and... wrestle. We hadn't wrestled since school and though I enjoyed rolling on the floor with this big guy I was no competition as his great weight and powerful muscles always had me pinned defenceless. He would throw me on my back and straddle me like a horse resting his muscular knees on my forearms pinning my hands above my head with his hands. It was quite intimidating and yet I often got excited and I noticed when I looked up as he towered over me he had too. He wouldn't release me until I cried for submission. Did I like it? I loved it and Brad seemed to enjoy throwing his weight around being the master and though I never said it I loved being the submissive.

He began to flex his muscle by being more demanding by setting silly tasks. Initially his quests where quite minor. Get me a coffee, buy me a sandwich, order me a beer. I think my fear of abandonment made me behave in irrational ways. I bought into some romantic nonsense of 'happy ever after' and wanted to please so I obliged and this made him worse feeding his growing bossy habit like a drug. I should have refused but I felt he was testing me and I didn't want to disappoint. At work he began to delegate demeaning tasks to me as if I was some young junior and justify them to me in a patronising manner. He would make me stand in front of him as he told me my duties for the day. Then At the end of the day I had to report back and state the things I didn't do or did wrong and what I had learnt from them. He said it was for my own self-improvement and if they were fresh on my mind I'd be less likely to repeat the mistakes and I knew what to do the following day. It was all very demeaning. I never had a problem with time management or my work rate and yet here I was being watched like a school leaver. I was a conscientious worker. We had started out as equal partners but now the relationship was one sided and yet.... I never complained.

He became sure of his power over me and he became more manipulating. He even made me ask him for permission to go to the toilet when at work. I didn't object but he gave some cock and bull storey about one of us having to man the phones all the time. He was becoming a manipulator and I seemed powerless to stop him. Over the following weeks the situation went from bad to worse and I even began to doubt our friendship. I found myself washing his car, cleaning his flat, buying his weekly groceries, cooking and doing his washing.

The final straw came when one day I wasn't able to do my chores and he playfully spanked me with a wooden hairbrush. Instead of wrestling me to the floor he hauled me over his knee and spanked me. It was not too hard but just enough to let me know who was in control. It was humiliating and I told him so but he seemed undeterred as if to say 'so what!' As much as I hated myself he could tell by my constant little erections that I was enjoying the charade rather too much. From that moment on, ever so slowly my world began to change.

My life didn't seem to belong to me anymore and I wasn't really getting anything in return. On one rare occasion of showing some affection he bought me a bracelet. It was weird, made of silver, bit feminine. He called it a lucky charm bracelet and he insisted that I wore it all the time.

Brad still would date and I found it hard not to be jealous yet when ever I said I was going out he would put up an obstacle such as an errand or favour he wanted me to perform for him. Over time many of my friends became infuriated with Brad and his rudeness and consequently lost interest. This made matters worse as I now found myself dependant on Brad even more so.

It all came to a head when I had some painters in to decorate my flat. I know it sounds girlish but I hate the smell of paint so I asked Bard if I could crash at his that night. He wasn't particularly keen as he had a date - some new tart he'd picked up at a garage. He stroked his beard thoughtfully and agreed but made me promise to stay in the spare room and not make a sound. Apparently He didn't want to put the lucky lady off as he didn't think she would think well of him if another bloke was in his flat even if just for the night.

I got round his place about eight just as he was preparing to go out. He showed me to the spare room, gave me some rubber gloves and a duster and he told me to tidy it. It wasn't decorated like a conventional spare room but was sparsely furnished with just a single bed and a wardrobe. The walls where white and the floor was littered with boxes and, what looked like rubbish.

I found some spare sheets in the airing cupboard and made up the bed. After he had gone I busied myself tidying up and making my bed. In doing so I found a large cardboard box tied with a red ribbon. For some strange reason I felt compelled to open it. Now, I'm not normally nosy but don't ask me why but I felt compelled to look inside. I thought it might contain photos of Brad and I when we where at school. I was wrong, very wrong. Inside was a collection of items that took my breath away. A pair of sexy, black lace panties and a matching bra and a length of course rope and official steel handcuffs. This surprised me enough but didn't prepare me for what I found underneath, a formidable rubber cock attached to a harness and what looked like a ball gag and a mask. I shut the box in terror but after I'd cleaned the room to Brad's instructions I took off my rubber gloves and couldn't resist going through it one more time. I was fascinated. Who did the things belong too? It was too obvious Brads so I assumed it belonged to his ex girlfriend Donna. As I leaf through the things I heard a key in the latch. Like a startled fawn I jump into bed and turn out the light. I lay as quite as a mouse listening to Brad's deep voice and that of a giggling girl. I roll my eyes inside my head as I had hoped he wouldn't have pulled. I listen to them talk but could only make out the odd word as Brad put n a CD. Next thing I knew the talking stopped and the moaning began. Sexual Olympics or what? They made a tremendous racket, screaming and moaning and I head what sounded like furniture moving about. After about an hour it went suddenly quite and I smelt cigarette smoke. They had stopped and I was just drifting off to sleep when I heard his bed creaking next door. The bedpost knocked against the wall and the springs creaked eerily. I couldn't believe that they where at it again. Brad went on for what seemed like hours as I just lay there in the bed listening to his antics. All of a sudden it went quite and I heard scurrying outside in the hall and then the slamming of a door. Silence, I laid awake scared to make a noise, hoping she hadn't heard me. Then my door creaks open and a crack of light splashes into the room. It was Brad dressed in his boxers with a huge hard on.

'Wondered if you slept,' he said. 'Did I keep you awake?' I ignored the question.

'She gone?' I asked.

He nodded somewhat sadly.

'Didn't you offer to take her home?' I said.

He grinned. 'She was in a hurry to go. I offered to take her in the morning but she was sore.' He laughed, 'could you believe it, the tart couldn't take it.' He then stepped into my room and I noticed he was holding two cups of coffee. He gave one to me and sat on the bed to drink it. Mine tasted rather strange but when I questioned him he said he'd topped it with some whisky to help me sleep -I had no reason to question him.

It worked as only moments later I began to feel incredibly drowsy. I can't really remember what happened next but he saw the cardboard box and noticed a glint of embarrassment in my eye.

'You found one of my boxes?' he said.

I wanted to say no but somehow I found myself mouthing yes and taking off the lid. Next thing I knew I had my inquisitive fingers in the box for the second time fingering the skimpy panties and bra as if they where mine.

Brad noticed and he picked up the rubber ball gag.

'I've never seen one of them,' I say and immediately realise my stupidity. He leaps upon me to wrestle and I struggle to free myself but half entwined amongst the bed sheets my legs are powerless and he's soon straddling me like he does but this time he's slipping the rubber neckpiece over my head.

'If you've never tried one you really should give it a go,' he chuckles and without waiting for me to reply he thrust the ball into my mouth. Inadvertently I open wide as if at the dentist and he forced the rubber ball deep into my mouth prising my teeth apart and my tongue to the back of my throat. I taste rubber and struggle to break free but Brad is far too heavy and powerful for me and he clicks the gags securing lock in place with a resounding snap. I'm a prisoner, trapped, speechless, unable to utter a distinguishable sound - the ball gag locked around my head as if a medieval helmet, I can't remove it even if I tried.

'I'm the master now,' he says gleefully. 'You may call me Master Brad.'

'Let me go. I want to go to sleep,' I scream but all Brad can hear is an inaudible cry.

'I knew you'd like it,' he cries oblivious to my discomfort and pushes me back onto the bed with a fist.

'What's next?' he says rummaging back in the box, 'let me see!' He selects the sexy lingerie between his massive thumb and forefinger; there size reducing the skimpy panties to mere wisps of material.

'I saw you admiring these earlier,' he said yanking my T-shirt over my head. I was powerless, my head dizzy, unable to cry out and incredibly weak. Physically drained, my mind spinning from the effect of the whisky laced coffee I couldn't stop him wrapping the bra around my chest and clicking it securely in place. I feebly struggle in a vain attempt to twist it off but he grips my slender arms in a vice-like hold and forces them through the spaghetti like shoulder straps. Bra in place my torso takes on an immediate transformation I twist, I squirm, try to shout but Brad simply smirks like a successful bounty hunter and snaps the heavy handcuffs on my tiny wrists like bracelets. I pull my arms apart in anger, the chain clinking as they spring taut, reducing my movements to a few meagre centimetres. Despondent and defeated I flop back on the bed. Brad grins triumphantly, rubs his beard thoughtfully and whips the bed sheets off me exposing my briefs and long smooth legs.

'Who's a pretty girl,' he sneers, his eyes scanning my shapely limbs. 'This lacy bra is so becoming. It really is you. You must wear one more often, I don't know why I hadn't thought of it before.'

My eyes widen in shame and I emit a long blood-curling wail but Brad ignores my pleas and rummages in a draw. He finds some old socks and roughly stuffs then into the cups giving my body an enviable hourglass figure. I could tell by the broad grin on his face and the growing bulge in his boxers that he was pleased.

I sob like a child and tears run down my face. Why? I ask myself, why?

'I want you to dress for me,' he said throwing me the black lace panties and silk seamed stockings. 'You've a body that obviously is destined to be a girls.'

He loomed over me chuckling as I lay bound and gagged before him like a science project awaiting experimentation. I was terrified - my best friend had a hidden evil streak within and I was powerless to escape.

Thinking quickly, I decided the best course of action was to pander to his bullying whim and hope he would soon tire of this game and go to sleep. So my head all drowsy I remained on the bed, slipped off my briefs and stepped into the panties. I felt my face blush as I slid them up my hairless legs and the lace frill scratched and tickled. With my hands clamped together, pulling them up my legs was incredibly difficult but this seemed to delight Brad more so and he watched in fascination as I struggled and squirmed in a vain attempt to retain some modesty. 'I'm not going to help you,' he grins and I stare back furiously carefully pulling the skimpy material up my legs until my cock was covered in the pretty lace and silk.

'Who's beautiful my little slave girl,' he said with a menacing growl. 'You look so angelic, an English rose in my bed of thorns. Don't you feel better wearing your own pretty underwear.'

I nod sadly... And strangely that was the truth, as racked with humiliation the silk panties felt remarkably cool and comforting and the bra deliciously sexy. Despite the bizarre situation I felt hot and turned on. I shook my hips and bent at the waist so that the soft panties stretched over my curves like a second skin.

'Don't forget your stockings, Tomi?' Brad said feeding a matching black lace suspender belt under me.

I moaned and gagged on the rubber ball then gathered a stocking in my hands and fed a trembling toe into the soft Lycra, Then it happened - my tiny cock began to stiffen and it grew harder and harder as I slid the slinky stocking up my leg. I hoped Brad didn't notice but as I fastened the second one to my suspender belt straps, he saw it.

The smile on his face stretched from ear to ear and I thought his eyes might pop out of his head. 'Well, well Tomi, you may mentally not want to wear these things but your pathetic little erection is saying something very different.

I nod and stretched out before him as if on an operating table he gently stroked my face. His wandering hands the travelled down cupping my perky breasts, stroking my flat tummy, jumping over my groin and sliding over my smooth legs. He fingers the Lycra between a thumb and forefinger then bounces back to my pantie where his huge hand cups what looks like a feminine mound. He gently squeezes my cock and I let out a feminine squeal. 'Isn't this what you want? It will be like your dream.' My cock still cupped in his hand he leans over me, I smell his strong aftershave and he whispered in my ear. 'I know you want it, Tomi, you can't deny it, you as good as told me.' He was shaking now, and I wanted to explain but he had unfairly gagged me making any speech imposable.

Why was he playing with me this way? He was so cruel toying masterfully with my emotions, exercising power over me. So many questions I wanted to ask but now my life had complicated and it seemed all my own fault. I shouldn't have been so honest, I shouldn't have offered to do his chores. A tear runs down my face and Brad looks down at me pitifully. Why was he doing this? Why was he behaving in this way? It seems for now he wasn't going to divulge.