The Trouble with Bills

Mark's message, as ever, straight to the point. Something had shifted in Paul. Maybe it was the fact that Mark had just been in his house, his space. The sense of being submissive, the sense of arousal, he still felt, the acceptance that another man fucking him might be OK. He laughed to himself, if I get more practice, he mused. A text from Mark arrived just as Paul was adjusting his growing erection thinking about being fucked by Mark again.

"Paul. I am really beginning to enjoy you. Glad I have a key to your house -- that feels right to me. So pleased and proud you just obeyed for me and took the fucking. You really are such a subby boy. In all honesty that first time was me being a little too horny and maybe too aggressive. I was not sure you would want to ever see me again. I will never blackmail or force -- though I could and you need to know that. I would like you to want it all. If you wish to be "owned" -- let me know!! I have a few ground rules."

Sitting down, absentmindedly putting on the tv, he found himself undoing his button and zip. Fondling his growing cock as he started to type a response to Mark. Looking down at his Garmin watch he realised it was only two hours since Mark's cock was inside him. Having come, surprisingly, while getting fucked and then again after Mark left. He was surprised that he was horny again. Sure enough, though, tv blaring, cock in hand, wanking, the arousal driving Paul's typing fingers as much as his brain.

"Mark. Yes please!" The subby sensation of typing 'please' seemed to drag the pre-cum leaking out of Paul's cock. He was getting pleasure from being so openly submissive. He continued to type with one hand, while wanking himself with the other.

"I must admit I was not looking forward to seeing you. I had hoped you would not be in touch. The first time scared me a lot. Today, though, I was surprised how I felt after you fucked me. I liked it. I liked being told to be naked. I like the fact I never spoke. I like how it felt just to be used like that. Thanks!"

Stroking away, not yet close to cumming, he felt a burst of pleasure when he finished his message, "Yes, Sir -- what are your rules?"

Paul sat and watched the little flashing dots, so he knew Mark was responding immediately. His wanking was becoming quite intense. He knew cumming was a while away, having come twice in the last two hours, but he was horny at the thought of what Mark's rules might be. The sense of excitement at being "owned" was also very strong. He felt like he was at the start of an adventure and wondered where it would go. He only briefly thought about his new, potential, girlfriend and what that might mean for her. What would Mark say about her he wondered. His hand a steady movement up and down his thin, Mark's words, 7-inch cock. Mark's text arrived. The first line was sufficiently shocking for Paul's hand to come off his cock. He read the rules with ever increasing shock, worry, some deep sense of fear maybe, all mixed in with arousal.

"Firstly, if we make this work, I expect you to move in with me. Though my daughter stays from time to time so that would need to be managed. I would want you closer. I also know you work from home. That means you could keep the place clean and tidy for me. My rules are quite simple. There are only three:

- I "own" all your life not just sex. That mean's any life decisions -- you will be required to get my approval.

- I "own" you sexually. So, you would be permanently cock-caged. You would have to earn release.

- Punishment, will be extreme, if you disobey me in any way.

Can you accept those three rules? I will not have a discussion on them. You are free to say no and I will not bother you ever again. So, a simple yes or a no?"

Paul, after the shock of the first sentence, had resumed a steady wank as he looked at the message from Mark. "Owning" his life he could accept -- the loneliness of being on his own and trying to manage everything was stressful. Paying the bills, which had caused the stress that drove him to his first meeting with Mark, always seemed to catch him by surprise. Though that was passed, for now, as he had things sorted that blip. Though, he had spent too much on his credit card, too much on games and things for his new flat. He also spent too much money on his thankless family -- forever supporting them. He felt release, physical pleasure, at having someone oversee and control that side of his life. He did not think about "life decisions" very much at all. He could accept being "owned" in life.

Slapping his cock around. Enjoying how it felt, the strength of it, the power of it. Even though it was "thin" in Mark's view, he enjoyed and loved wanking. Since he had got his new flat, his own place for the first time ever, he counted how many times he might cum in a day. Maybe a minimum of twice a day -- with some evenings or weekends being constant wanking and cumming. Followed by eating and playing games. On those days and nights, he could cum four or five time. Could he let his cock be caged. Could he let another man control that. Could he cope. He thought the answer to all of this was that he could not cope. His hand moving faster, the intensity of his arousal at an older man having such intimate sexual control felt like an irresistible urge. He could accept being "cock-caged".

Finding himself build to ejaculation. Thought of the force, the threat of no choice, of just obeying was the most erotic thought. He had just lain naked in his own house for a man, still a stranger, to come in and fuck his waiting bare bottom. He had not even looked round once, keeping the pillow pulled tight to his head, as he lay there and got fucked. That behaviour confirmed to Paul he wanted to obey. Even, if, he accepted that the threat of it happening for the last few months had been awful. The reality of it was something that made him feel good about himself. He felt his balls twitch, about to cum again, the thought of punishment briefly passed his mind and left. What was punishment? If it was not the throat fucking and the severe arse fucking -- and he had coped with that. His balls spasmed. He realised, he was going to accept Mark's rules. He was going to type yes. Sperm spurting only an inch or so this time. He came at the thought of having no choice but to follow rules one and two. He could accept being "punished".

"Yes Sir! Thanks Sir!" He typed, with sperm still wet on his cock and fingers. He typed as though he was starting some new adventure. Some new period in his life. Not for one second did Paul think it was a bad, or silly, or reckless, thing to do. He was relieved, aroused, pleased and, he noticed, surprisingly happy.

Ownership, Paul quickly realised, would start immediately. Mark was quick to send Paul a link to a specialist cock-cage "fitter". He was to get there as soon as he could -- ideally before he came again. Paul looked at the drying cum on his cock and fingers. He realised that might be the last wank he had on his own. The "fitter" was available that afternoon. As long as it would not harm Paul's work, he was to phone and get along there. It is an expensive piece of equipment and the fitting service, especially, was expensive. Mark explained it was a very niche and specialist service. So, to help with the cost, Mark had offered Paul's mouth to the fitter and his partner.

Paul followed the various texts from Mark, with ever more detailed instructions, his cock shrivelling away. His arousal died and the nausea in his stomach grew again.

Part of the fitting service was to be a piercing. Paul's stomach flipped when he read that. It was the only way, Mark told him, that would mean he could never remove it on his own. The piercing would be just at the bottom of his cock, on his balls. Then another one at the other side of his balls. Two small, if painful, piercings. He would have his hair permanently removed. The whole thing might take up to four or five hours. The sense of overwhelm was happening again.

The text's kept coming. Paul knew his life was changing right in front of him. He read message after message on his phone. Cameras were to be installed in his house. Mark would pay and arrange for that. All Paul had to do was let them in next week when they arrived. This was 'only temporary' until Mark figured out how to get Paul moved into his house. Then, as though to really push Paul to disobey. The final two demands arrived. Paul had to comply 'right away' or expect to be severely punished. The last two demands, instructions, were deeply invasive. The nausea in Paul's stomach was now as bad as it had ever been. The two instructions were clear and very straight forward. Provide Mark with all his bank account details. Paul was to be locked out of his accounts. Then, finally, to ensure there was no going back. He had to send his girlfriend the image, sent by Mark, of Paul with Mark's cock in his mouth.

Panic was back. Fear was back. He was in over his head. Control had gone from his life completely. As though Mark knew how much shock Paul was in, he followed up with a small timer displaying in the message. A ten-minute timer counting down. Mark informed him that he must show evidence of both those immediate tasks in the next ten minutes, or he risked his first, very serious, caning.

He had never been caned. Never thought about being caned. Again, as though Mark read Paul's mind, a video link came through. Paul, not thinking clearly about the timer, watched the one-minute clip. It was a very severe, and bloody, caning. The boy was held secure outside on someone's lawn. A group of six or seven men standing around -- all fully dressed. The boy was naked and secured over a large barrel. The caning was utterly brutal. The screams of the boy bad enough but it was the very rapid welts that appeared on the boys bottom that terrified Paul the most.

"You have eight minutes to obey or that will be you soon!" Mark's message jarring Paul into almost blind panic. He stood looking around his house as though seeking some escape. He could not do all this so quickly. He had to say no. He just would not go through with it. In his state of anxiety, he almost dropped his phone when it rang. It was not Mark, this time. It was his, potential, girlfriend Susan. He answered quickly -- keen to get her off the phone so he could figure out what to do.

It was not to be a quick call. Susan, slightly hysterical, was immediately talking at a thousand miles an hour. She had just received three pornographic pictures, she thought they were spam, but she said that the man in the images looked like Paul. As though it was too much for her to describe the images, she sent them to Paul. His phoning buzzing as each image arrived. Susan, was not calming down at all, continued to talk rapidly. Asking what was going on. Asking if they were real. Asking if he was bi. Asking if he was lying to her. Asking if they were real. Then silence. She wanted an answer. Were the pictures real? Paul, now seeing the timer on his phone down to three minutes, was in a daze. Shocked, very much like the first time Mark had fucked his bottom and mouth. He felt himself pull away from the silence on the phone as he started to answer Susan.

"Yes. They are real." He said quietly, almost as though he could not believe his own words.

The gasp from Susan. A short silence. Then several questions at one.

He had half expected her to hang up. She wanted to know, strangely, was he in pain. The image showed Mark's cock almost fully in Paul's mouth. The stretched mouth and penetration into his throat showed in the terror and pain on Paul's face. He told Susan it was painful. She wanted to know if this was recent, when they had been seeing each other, or before. He explained it was before. She wanted to know if he was homosexual or bisexual and whether their relationship was over. He had no way of answering. He did not know what to say to that question. He could not tell her he was now owned, and he had no idea whether Susan's relationship was to be ended or not. He could not say it was an older man's choice. The silence seemed to go on forever as Susan waited for an answer. Then, as Paul, was about to say it had to end Susan filled in the silence.

"Paul, He just sent me a message. It says you are owned, and you will do whatever I ask and that you just want to be obedient. How weird. What does owned mean Paul? What is going on Paul?"

The speedy way in which her words rattled out told Paul she was very anxious, shocked, state. He had no way to lie. He could not. Mark was sending messages directly to Susan even as they spoke. Paul noticed the timer running down to zero. He was almost sobbing at the thought of the caning.

Paul replied to Susan with the truth, as he understood it. He explained he was owned by an older man. He explained he was not sure if their relationship was to continue. He was to be obedient and do whatever the man asked. Paul, trying to make sense of it himself, as he explained it to Susan was cut off abruptly by Susan swearing loudly down the phone.

"What the actual fuck! Paul, what is this?" She shouted at him.

Mark had sent another video directly to Susan as they chatted. A video, Paul did not know had been taken, of Paul being fucked only ninety minutes ago. The video showing Paul naked. Mark's cock going inside Paul bottom as you could hear Paul's sobbing in the background. Though, it was the way in which the video settled on the clock that freaked Susan out. It also freaked Paul out. It meant that everything that was happening now had been planned by Mark before he left. Before Paul accepted being owned Mark had already prepared for this.

The clock was now at zero. He had not sent his bank details to Mark. Though, he had completed the first task, well rather Mark had completed the task. His, potential, girlfriend was now very aware of Paul's submissive, sexual, obedience to an older man. Not only that -- but, it was very aware of the most recent fucking. That seemed to be the worst thing to her. The vitriolic hatred in her voice very clear.

She spat out the words. "You have just been fucked!".

He stood in silence unable to speak feeling his whole life disappear.

"Fuck You! You are a fucking weirdo. You fucking pervert!" Susan hung up.