Trapping a Straight Boy, Ch. 03

I'd made good progress converting Corey from a regular straight guy into my owned boy, but I needed to keep that momentum going. He submitted easily enough when he was forced, but everything he did was was hesitant, halting. He was clinging to the hope that this was all some bad dream, that he would wake up one morning and he would go back to his old life and he could forget that any of this had happened. That needed fixing. He needed to learn his place.

A few days after our last meeting, I texted him after he got home from work. "Take a shower and be at my place by 8:00." I sent him my address again.

He didn't respond. As the clock ticked closer to 8, I began to wonder if he was actually going to try to run. No, he had no where to run, and he knew it. Just a few minutes before 8, I heard a knock on my door. I opened it to find a sheepish Corey staring at his feet.

I let him inside and motioned him to walk ahead of me. A few steps inside my door, he abruptly turned to face me. "Look, I just came to tell you I'm not doing this anymore." He was making a conscious effort to look determined, but the whole routine just looked like it had be practiced in front of a mirror. I broke into a broad smile.

"Corey, Corey. We both know you don't mean that."

"I do!" he said, a little overly eager.

I chuckled and put a hand on his shoulder. I was close enough I smell his body wash. "Then why did you take a shower?" His face flushed red and his mouth opened. He spent half a beat frozen like that trying to think of a response before I cut him off; "That last video of yours is awfully convincing. Looks like you've been sucking cock for years. And how you swallowed? You're a natural. Your ex Alicia is still posting memes of loser ex boyfriends. Can you imagine her reaction if I dropped that video in her lap? You'd be able to hear her laughing from the next time zone."

He clenched his jaw and shifted his weight, but kept his eyes down and said nothing. "That's right," I said, clapping his shoulder. "Let's have no more of that. In fact, that's why I brought you here. I don't think you've really accepted what's happened to you yet. Your old life? That regular-guy facade? That's over. You're my boy now. My property. You were always meant to serve. I'm going to make you see that."

His eyes flashed up at me. "That's not what I'm meant for. I'm straight."

I broke into a short laugh. "And you think that matters? No, you're a natural born bitch. A pushover. At your core, you're weak. That's why you you've never been able to stand up for yourself. You've let people walk over you your whole life. Deep down, you must have always been afraid you don't have the balls that other men have," I said, venturing a little into guesswork, but still pretty sure I was hitting close to the mark. "No, you were meant to do as you're told. Gay, straight, makes no difference. You were born to submit. What you want is beside the point. Now, come on."

I turned and started walking down the hall towards my living room. A second later, I heard Corey's footsteps behind me. I smiled at the sound. Sounds like I was right.

We got to the living room and I stopped. "Glad to see you see the truth in that."

"It's not true," he said quietly. "I'm just here because of the video."

I smiled at him "Sure, boy. Sounds like you've got some more to learn about yourself. You really will feel much better about all this once you accept you were meant for it. Now strip."

His blue-green eyes had a mixture of defeat and pleading in them. It was still a surreal experience being forcibly stripped down by another man. But he knew he had no choice. With a look, I let him know I meant it. He sighed and pulled his shirt over his head. Shoes, socks and pants joined the pile on the floor. He paused at his underwear again, a nicer pair of boxer briefs. He was expecting to get stripped down.

"Now," I said with impatience.

He pulled them off and stepped out of them, fully naked now in front of me. My cock twitched looking at him. I really had stumbled across a good one. Decently muscular and a little on the beefy side, nice cut cock to play with, strong legs and a nicely rounded ass. I couldn't wait to show him off.

"Put your hands on your head," I said, running my hand across his stomach. I stepped behind him, moving my hand from his belly down to his cock. He squirmed at my touch, but kept his hands up. My hands ran up to his chest, along his right arm and up to his wrist. With one hand, I took a silver pair of handcuffs out of my pocket, and with the other, brought his wrist down quickly behind his back. His right wrist was cuffed before he realized what was happening. He didn't resist as I pulled his other wrist down to be cuffed as well.

I stepped back around to see him standing completely helpless in front of me, turning beet red from humiliation of it. I smirked at him, grabbed him by the cock and gave it a sharp tug. "This way," I said, leading him by his cock into the next room.

As we turned the corner into my playroom, he stopped dead seeing what I had waiting for him, his cock pulling out of my grip. In the middle of the room was a small bench that came up just a little short of waist high. The broad top was covered in black padded leather, and halfway down each wooden leg, a padded leather arm stood out a couple feet. Ten or so leather straps hung down from it attached at various points. Corey could guess easily enough what it was for--he was going to be strapped belly down on the bench, with his arms and legs strapped to the padded arms, effectively being immobilized on all fours. His heart sank when he realized both his holes would be just the right height.

"Come along," I said, yanking him roughly by the arm. I pulled him to the bench and bent him over it before pulling first his left, then his right legs onto the broad arms of the bench. I fastened the straps around his ankles, knees and waist. Securely bound, I uncuffed his hands and pulled his arms into the proper position, tightening straps around his wrists and elbows as I went. When I was finished, he couldn't move an inch, ass up, cock and balls dangling off the edge of the bench, face at crotch level.

"Now it's time to adjust that attitude of yours," I said, walking behind him. I reached back and swatted his ass hard. He yelped, probably more from surprise than pain. That ratio was going to change.

"I want you to understand," I said, punctuating my sentences with smacks to his ass. "That I didn't choose you at random. I picked you because I can see straight through you. I saw that you were submissive. Weak. Inferior. That I could take whatever I wanted from you. And you'd never have the balls to stop me." His ass started to turn pink, then red. With each smack, his body would jerk just a little more, trying to twist his ass away from me. But he was bound tight.

"You think anyone else you know could be stripped down and spanked by a man?" I asked with a solid smack.

He paused. Another spanking suggested I wasn't being rhetorical.

"No," he grunted through clenched teeth.

"Because they're real men, aren't they? They would have stormed out the second I tried to touch them that first night. But you didn't. You were afraid," I said, spanking him at each period. "Afraid of me. Of saying no. Of coming off as rude. Of standing up for yourself. Does that sound like a real man?"

"No," he grunted again.

"But you're not a real man are you?"

He grimaced at the smack but kept quiet. I grabbed his balls and squeezed tight. He let out a cry.

"Are you a real man?"

"No!" he yelled, the pressure on his balls boosting his volume.

I let go of him and ran my hand across his ass. Heat was radiating off his glowing red skin. He winced at the lightest touch. From this point, each smack would feel exponentially worse than the last.

"So tell me yourself. Tell me you're not a real man."

"I'm not a real man," he mumbled flatly.

I brought my hand down hard on his ass. He yelped, this time from pain. "Like you mean it."

"I'm not a real man!" he yelled, his voice tinged with anger.

"Again," I said, hitting the exact same spot.

"I'm not a real man!" There was pain in his voice now, but still not the quality I was looking for.

Again and again, I made him repeat it, until finally I could hear it; he wasn't just saying the words anymore-- he believed them, and he was close to tears trying to get me to believe it too.

"Good boy," I said, giving him a break. "But you always suspected that, didn't you?"

"Yes," he whispered guiltily. He was being truthful.

"It's the reason you took a shower before you got here, isn't it? Because you knew you didn't have it in you to stop me."

"Yes," he repeated quietly.

"Yes what?"

"Yes sir."

"And you've always suspected you were missing what all the other guys seemed to have?"

His head drooped below the bench. "Yes sir."

"Tell me how you knew."

"I..." he started and hesitated. Resting my hand on his ass encouraged him to keep going. "I... in high school, my girlfriend cheated on me. And dumped me for him. Then I had to go to school with both of them. And everyone knew. And I didn't do anything. And I thought I dealt with it. But then Alicia did it too. I just... I don't know..."

"See? The people who know you best see it, too. You aren't a real man. You're meant to do as the alphas of this world tell you. You've always known that. You just have never been made to admit it before. You were born to serve."

"Not like this," he muttered, his words coming out heavy.

"However the alphas say," I said deliberately, giving his ass another sharp hit and let my hand linger.

"Maybe I should demonstrate the point," I said, my hand moving down his ass towards his hole. The moment I touched it, he bucked like it had been hit with a cattle prod.

"Please! Don't" I can't!" he pleaded.

"Don't worry, you can. It stretches more than you think," I said, starting to probe it some.

"I'll suck your dick!" he said desperately.

"You're not in a position to bargain," I said, my finger pushing into his hole. "And you still need to learn your place."

I stepped away to get a bottle of lube from a nearby drawer. Corey jumped again feeling the cold lube being smeared across his hole. A finger slid inside him to loosen his straight hole some.

"Oh god!" he panicked. "Please don't! I'll do anything!"

"Yes you will," I said, unzipping my pants and pulling my fat cock out. I grabbed him by the hips and rubbed my cock against his hole. I began forcing my way inside him. He screamed.

"Stop! Stop! Please!"

"Shut up, boy. Stop fighting me and it won't hurt so much. You're getting fucked one way or another."

His hole was still clenched tight trying to keep my out.

"I said, relax!"

A couple sharp smacks to the reddest part of his ass seemed to persuade him to be more cooperative. He stopped fighting me and I shoved the rest of my thick cock inside of him. He screamed at first taking the whole thing, but as I settled into a rhythm pumping in and out of him, he quieted down to grunts.

"See, boy?" I said, cock sliding into him now. "You can't control how you're used, but if you stop fighting and just accept it, it's not nearly as bad."

He could only grunt in response. I grabbed a handful of his hair and jerked his head towards me, arching his back. I fucked him harder with each thrust, watching his body shudder from the impact.

"You are one tight bitch," I said between thrusts. "I'm going to have men lining up to use you."

Close now, I grabbed his hips hard, buried my cock deep inside him and shot my load. A few more pumps and I pulled out of him, wiping my cock off on his thigh.

I stepped back to admire my work. His ass was a patchwork of deep reds and angry purples. My cum was dripping out of him and running down his thighs.

I walked around him laughing. "Damn, boy," I said, playfully slapping his face. "First a cocksucker, now a bottom boy. Both those labels stay with you for life, don't they? Eh?"

"Yes sir," he muttered, disgust dripping from his words.

"Tell me what you are and I'll let you out."

"I'm a cocksucker and a bottom boy," he said in a defeated monotone.

"Good boy," I said, undoing the straps. "Your clothes are in the living room. You can show yourself out."

He got off the bench and quickly made for the living room. Just as he turned to leave, I grabbed him by the shoulder and fixed him with a stare. "And you're going to think about what we talked about today, boy. I meant every word of it. You were meant for this. The less you fight it, the easier it gets."

He looked down again, cum running down his legs. "Yes sir," he mumbled. He didn't believe it yet, but he would. I let him go to get dressed. He slipped out as soon as he was decent, softly closing the door behind him and slipping off to nurse his sore ass and wounded pride. But he couldn't shake the thought of more men lining up to use him. His hole was throbbing from just the one cock. The thought of having to take another, and another...

But, he thought, that could never happen to him...