Master and Apprentice

(This is my first story. Parts of it are true. If you like it, and you and you want to share your thoughts, stories, fantasies, pics, or more, please send me a message. I'll be waiting for you...)

*

I should have listened. When I told my friends that I'd been offered a prestigious apprenticeship with Chef Albert, and that I would stay in a room above his award-winning restaurant, they looked me up and down and said: "He's going to eat you alive."

I'd heard rumors about Albert, but this was a huge opportunity for a young chef, how bad could it be? I knew the old bull was a strict disciplinarian, but I had no idea how strict.

When Albert showed me my room, above his kitchen, I noticed that he kept leering at me. I get that a lot, I'm 23, strikingly handsome in a Mediterranean way, with thick dark hair, full lips, dark bedroom eyes. I'm slightly under average height, with a lean, athletic build, like a soccer player. Big old Albert, with his wide shoulders, his wide belly, his massive, hairy hands, couldn't seem to take his eyes off me. I did notice that the 60-something chef seemed very bossy and touchy, as I was getting settled in the small, creaky room, with an old, metal-framed bed.

And, before he left me alone in the room, Albert came very close to me, breathing hard in my face, and told me that I was in his house now. He told me not to fuck around, that I wasn't only his apprentice, but also "his boy." I needed to behave, or there would be punishments. He was breathing right in my face as he said this. Then he turned, gave me one more look, and took the old, wrought iron key from the door. "Ill hold on to this for you," he said, "...who knows when I'll have to left myself in here." And then he was gone.

I got to work immediately. That first day, Albert assigned me menial tasks, and couldn't keep his hands off me. As he stepped past me, in the small kitchen, he always seemed to pat against my firm, round butt, or place both of his strong hands on my hips, as he sidled past. I was just getting used to him being so touchy, him literally breathing down my neck, when he stomped over to me.

I had been peeling potatoes, and he grabbed a peel, and pointed to a bit of potato left on it. "You think you can waste my potatoes?" He hollered. "I thought you were a chef, boy." While he was yelling, he positioned himself behind me, with his hand holding a big fistful of peelings near my face. He pushed right up behind me, he crotch against my butt, breathing down on me. He practically humped up against me, with my body pinned against the kitchen counter. "I'm too busy to punish you know, boy...but you'll get yours later," he whispered in my ear. He stormed off, but his threat left me with chills, feeling small and dominated...

That night, after dinner service, I returned to my room above the kitchen. I was tired and sore and covered in stains. I opened the door and, without looking around, started to pull off my chef jacket.

"Take that off right now." Albert's deep voice startled me. I looked up, to find him sitting on my bed, grinning at me, with his hands on his knees. "Take off that jacket this instance...it's time for your punishment.

I was embarrassed and surprised, but my whole career depended on this apprenticeship. I unbuttoned the jacket and pulled it off. "Your undershirt too," Albert ordered. I stripped off my tight, sweaty undershirt, revealing my slim, worked out torso.

"Here, boy" Albert beckoned me over.

I stepped to the edge of the bed, standing inches from Albert. He was sitting and breathing very hard. He reached up and ran one of his huge fingers down my torso, along my six-pack, down to the waist of my elastic chef pants. He looked up at me and smiled a naughty smile, then yanked my pants and boxers down to my ankles. He was breathing harder, as his hand reached down and cupped my semi-hard cock and balls. At first it felt good, to be held in his warm hand, but his grip got tighter and tighter. I was humiliated and in pain, panting for air as he squeezed my package. He pulled me towards him, looked me in the eye, and snarled: "these are mine now. Everything about you is mine now. If you want to get out of this apprenticeship, if you want to survive in my house, boy, you do want I say. You don't fuck up, you follow chef's orders. OK?"

With that he squeezed very hard and let go of my cock and balls. I doubled over, but before I could recover he pulled me onto his lap. I realized, for the first time, how much stronger than me he was, what an old bear of a man he was. Facing away from him, with my butt over his knees, he started to spank me. He did not go slow, but thwap-thwap-thwapped my boy ass, building speed and strength with each smack. I wriggled and moaned but he held me tight as he marked up my red little butt. "My boy, my bad boy, my toy" he muttered as he spanked me mercilessly.

Long after I thought I couldn't take any more, he stopped spanking, and in one motion pushed me off him. I crumpled to the floor, on my knees, between his legs. He grabbed my chin with one of his mighty hands, and pulled my face up, making strong eye contact. Starring at me, with a mischievous grin, he said "I can tell you liked that. I can see your little dickie is getting hard, boy. Finish yourself off, just like that, on the floor. NOW."

I was too terrified, humiliated, and turned on to resist. My cock was rock hard. I started to stroke myself, crouching on my knees, between his massive legs. All the while he smirked at me, muttering "milk yourself, my little boy. Prove you can be my apprentice." The humiliation was too much, I was too turned on, within a minute I began to gyrate and shake and, even though I didn't want to, I gasped and blew my load. Thick ropes of cum launched from my hard cock, landing on the hardwood floor below him. I moaned and groaned, but before I could recover, Albert grabbed me by the neck and forced my face down into the puddle of my own cum. "Clean it all up" he ordered, "you're a guest." He stood up and left me there, on the floor, my own cum smeared on my face, my bubble butt red and aching, feeling, like he put it, like his little toy.

* * *

I hoped that that night was the end of it. Maybe the big old chef had marked me as his territory, and now we could just work together, as master and apprentice. I was wrong.

Over the next few days Albert was even more touchy, more possessive. I could feel him bumping up against me, or groping my butt or cock, or just plain bullying me. Sometime he would push me down, over a counter, and just hold me there, bent and submissive, during prep. And when his chef buddies came by, he showed off even more, ordering me around, slapping my ass, calling me "bitch" in french.

A few days later I made my next big mistake. Grilling steaks for an entree, I overcooked one. Albert noticed, and forcefully showed me that it was overdone and gray in the center. "I'm too busy to punish you now," he threatened, "but you'll learn about meat tonight."

I was terrified when I went back to my room, expecting him to be waiting for me. But he wasn't. He wasn't in the bathroom either. I took of my clothes and settled into bed, falling to sleep wondering when he'd come for me.

He woke me in the middle of the night. As I came to, groggily, I felt constrained. I noticed two things at once. First, my arms with both tied with thick canvas apron strings, to the bedframe behind my head, which was propped up with pillows. The other thing I noticed, as I slowly came too in the dark room, was the he was hovering over me. Well, his cock was hovering over me. Albert was sitting on my chest, naked, with his legs on either side of my propped-up head. All I could see was his cock, which was uncut, thick and veiny. It was semi-hard, and looked heavy, like a tool. I could see his massive, sagging balls below it, his dark pubes spread up to his fat belly, and out around his balls. His thick legs and his sagging stomach blocked out all other vision, I couldn't see his face.

"Its time you learn how to handle meat, boy." Albert hissed. "I'm not going to be gentle, but I don't have to be. You should be honored that I'm letting you have this. You haven't earned it. But if you do anything wrong, if I so much as feel a single tooth...well, you know how sharp I keep my knives. Now get to it."

With that he pressed his heaving, throbbing, semi-hard cock against my lips. "Open, bitch," he ordered, and I did. I was so used to following orders at this point, that I didn't even consider resisting. Part of me wanted it. I wanted to please this big, strict man. To satisfy his whole big hairy body with my mouth alone.

Chef Albert pressed his cock forward with an unstoppable gravity. He didn't thrust, or ease it into my wet and waiting mouth, he just sank deep, deep, deep into my wet throat. He pushed forward until it was all buried in me, his belly pressing against my forehead, he balls resting on my chin. I was gasping, struggling for air, my eyes tearing, my throat contracting. Then, just to be vicious, Albert thrust hard, pushing down even further, fucking my throat as if it were a cunt.

"Oghhhhhhhh" he groaned, his pleasure drowning out my pain. "You've got a nice tight throat boy. So wet. Just makes me want to fuck it." With that he pulled almost al the way back, till I could feel his throbbing cock head against my lips, and then slammed all of him fully down my throat again. All of his weight, probably 250 pounds, pressed that hard, veiny cock down my gullet.

I was beyond gagging, beyond gasping. I knew I was helpless, bound, unable to stop him in anyway. So I opened wide and tried to inhale him, to take his meat as easily as possible. He started thrusting hard, his big hands on the sides of my head, his tool jamming in and out of my waiting mouth. Drool and slobber built up in my mouth, spilled down my full lips and chin, ran down along the bottom of his cock. "Sloppy, you little bitch, you're a sloppy boy." he muttered. "Just wait and see how much wetter its gonna get, boy."

He was moaning now, fucking my face mercilessly, like he was seeing how far he could push me. The old bedframe creaked. All I could see, in the dark, was his fat hairy belly pushing up against my eyes, pulling back, pushing towards me again. His massive thighs, and his floppy balls, filled out my peripheral vision.

Suddenly he changed his strokes. He kicked his legs back, arched his back, pressed his belly tight against my head. With his cock jammed in my throat, filling it, and his pelvis pressed against my nose, he began to hump his dick deep into my mouth, in short, circular thrust. He began to pant and moan, and mutter "give me that boythroat, give my your mouth boy, use it like a pussy, you little bitch, let me make it minnnneeeeeeeeee." With that he pressed even deeper down my throat, and I felt his big hard cock spasm and cum a thick load, deep down my mouth. It felt hot and wet and seemed to go on forever. I could feel his whole body shiver, pressed down against my head, my little boy mouth sending a convulsion of pleasure around his entire body. In that instant I loved the idea that I could bring him such intense enjoyment, I felt like I existed just to make him cum. He tightened his legs, and pressed deep down into me for what seemed like forever.

Soon he relaxed a little. He pulled his sloppy, wet and nasty cock from my full, red lips and began to smear the mixture of saliva and cum all over my face. I felt wet, and humiliated and used, as I gasped for air. "Now you're marked, boy." He smirked. He stood up, leaving me bound and sloppy with his juices, my hands still tied behind me, my cock hard and throbbing under the sheets.

"Ill come untie you tomorrow before service. Goodnight throat," he said, and left the room.

* * *

I could see now that this was an ongoing thing, that I was his. It seemed that whatever he did to me at night, in my room, became part of our regular days together. In addition to the groping, the leering, and spankings during work, Albert began to drag me into the walk-in fridge, when things were slow. He'd pull down his elastic pants, his belly hanging out under his chef jacket, and push me to my knees. He would then force his cock into my mouth, and fuck my wet throat until he came.

No romance, no talking, no subtlety. He just used my wet boy mouth as if it was disconnected from me, as if it just existed to please him. He'd pump out a fat load of cum, then step back, look at me on my knees, his load dripping from my mouth, and hiss "back to work boy."

If that were all, I would be ok. I was learning to love sucking off my master chef. I loved feeling like I was useful, pleasurable. He was so hard on me, so dismissive of my work, if felt wonderful to bring pleasure to this big bear. I love feeling him shudder and shake, knowing soon I would drain a thick load from him.

But that wasn't all. Albert began to refer to "owning me." He said it like it was something else, some final step coming up. And he started to force me flat onto the counters frequently, my chest pressed against the counter. With one hand he would grasp the scruff of my jacket, holding me face down, the other would travel down my backside, cup my round ass. Sometimes the tore my pants down below my butt. His hand would wander between my cheeks, pressing a finger against my hole. "Soon" he'd tell me, "this'll be mine too."

He even did it in front of his friends. It was humiliating, feeling all of their knowing, laughing eyes on me as he exposed my body to them. "This is my boy" he'd tell them, "see how he doesn't even try to resist."

But I was getting better at cooking, and it seemed like he couldn't think of any reason to punish me. Finally, one afternoon, when I was working on a large pile of expensive meat, I felt him behind me. He loomed over me, his belly pressing against my back, his crotch rubbing against me. He big hands grabbed my wrists and pulled them to my side. "I'm sick of waiting, boy" he warned. "I want to own you soon." Then he reached out, with one massive paw, and swiped all the food, hundreds of dollars of beef, onto the floor. "Looks like I'll have to punish you sooner than I thought," he said, with a demonic smirk, and walked away.

* * *

That night, I knew what was going to happen. Instead of waiting for him, I figured I'd just accept my fate. Albert's room was down the hall from mine. I'd never been in there before. Part of me figured that I should just get whatever he had planned out of the way. And part of me really, really want to be owned.

I knocked on his bedroom door. He gruffly opened it, standing there in a wifebeater and chef pants. He looked like a giant, hairy mountain, just standing before him made me feel small and weak. Without a word, I slowly pulled off my shirt, revealing my perfect, slim, hard chest and abs. Albert gulped. I stepped back, and slid out of my pants too. I stood before him, in the doorway, in just a pair of white tightey whiteys, breathing hard.

In one quick motion Albert grabbed me, swung me into his room, and slammed me onto his bed. Then he was on top of me. I could feel the weight of him, pressing down on me, owning me. His hands clutched my shoulders, his mouth pressed against mine. We had never kissed before. Now he forced his big wet tongue into my mouth. His hands travelled all over my little body, groping and exploring as he kissed me roughly. My mouth was filled with his tongue. The way he kissed me and groped me, made me feel like I had given up any choice. I was going to be his.

He tore my tightywhiteys off, and noticed I was hard. He was grunting now, on top of me. I could feel his semi-hard cock dangling between my legs. I loved the weight of it, it felt like a weapon he was getting ready to use. He was getting more frantic in his groping and kissing, building up to something. Suddenly he pulled back, grabbed me roughly, and flipped me over onto my belly. All I could see now was his pillows, as he settled back on top me. I could feel his cock still, dangling and rubbing against my perfect round ass.

He reached one meaty hand up and forced it into my mouth. "Wet them, boy, make them sloppy" he ordered, and I licked his big fingers, hairy on the knuckles. With his other hand pressing against the small of my back, he reached his wet fingers down. Instead of cupping my butt, or groping, he just forced his thick, wet index finger into my little boy-hole. I started to scream with shock, but he pressed my face into the sheets. "I'm doing this for you, boy. You're lucky," he rasped. A second finger pressed into me. I'd never had anything in my hole before, now two, now three, big meaty mans fingers explored it.

Soon he slid them out. "You know what comes next, boy" he smirked. I felt the head of his uncut cock find its way, pressing against my hole. It felt like it had a potential energy of its own, like it had a craving, a desire to press in. "Beg for it" Albert ordered.

I didn't have to be told twice. "Please, chef, pleassssse master. You know I want it, You know I'm yours. Take all of me. Use me."

With that, his head, thick and throbbing, forced its way in. It hurt like I've never felt before. "Push against it," he hissed, and as I did, he pressed forward. His cock was about 7" long and incredibly thick and veiny, I could feel one, two, three, four, five, six, and seven inches sinking into me. It felt terrible, and amazing. The best part was that I couldnt stop it if I wanted to. I was pinned and helpless beneath him, crushed by his weight, his strong arms holding me in a bear hug, his massive cock forcing its way deep into me.

"THERE" he announced, his meat buried completely in my boy ass, "even tighter than I imagined, my little boy. You better get used to this." Then, without letting me recover or get use to it, he reared back and slammed his cock into me. Hard. His big cock was growing, harder and bigger, and he was pummeling my virgin ass with it. I went from a pleasant feeling of being filled, to an overwhelming feeling of being exploded. He began to thrust hard, ignoring my whining. With each hard thrust he muttered "Take it boy, take it boy, take it boy." He placed his big hands on my slim hips, for leverage, and started to fuck me fast. I was still pinned, still helpless, it felt like I was an object for his pleasure.

He was growling in my ear, breathing on my neck, his belly on my back, his hands locked like vices on my hips and butt, his meaty thighs spreading mine apart, his swinging balls banging against mine. This is what it felt like to be owned. I knew, and so did he, that my cock was rock hard now, rubbing against his sheets. Soon it was too much, all that rubbing, and I gasped and moaned and came against the bed. "You like that, huh?" he chuckled, and kept fucking me nonstop, smearing my torso against my own cum.

I could feel his thrusts growing harder, more frantic. He let go of my hips, with one hand he pried both my arms behind my back, holding them together with one meaty paw. The other grabbed me by the hair, pulled my head back painfully. I was contorted, my head back, my arms pinned, whimpering with each thrust. I could feel Chef Albert was ready.

He felt savage, out of control, like the massive, powerful man on top of me was entirely focused on slamming his cock into my little hole, like he was in a kindof a trance, his entire being focused on fucking me. He pounded me harder and harder, his cock skewering deep into me. His breath quickened, he thrusts sped up, and then he slammed deeper into me than he ever had before.

He was so far into my boyhole, I was so far pressed down his master cock, that it felt like we were one thrusting, moaning, fucking, groaning being. He convulsed and gulped and I could feel, buried deep down in me, his big daddy chef dick shooting a load far far into me. It felt like I was being bred, being impregnated, being fully owned and marked and used by my master. He convulsed and pressed further, wrapping me in his big hairy arms. He drained every last drop into me, I took every bit moaning and squeezing, tensing my hole to drain all of him into me. He wrapped me tightly in his arms, his softening cock still buried in me.