Author's notes: This story contains non-con, mentions of CBT, urethral sounding, sexual slavery and anal. This is an introduction, setting up what is in store for Harvey. I intend for more to follow. Leave a comment - I'm open to criticism and suggestions. Please note: I do not condone rape. This is fiction only.
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John did not consider himself to be a cruel man. If he had seen his victims as something equal to others, he might have re-considered that. He was nice and considerate to people at work, he gave way at the appropriate places in his car. Most people would consider John to be a nice guy. A decent person. And John wouldn't have argued with that.
However, the boy strapped down in his basement might have suggested otherwise. The boy was quickly learning that John, in the right circumstances, was not even close to a nice guy. Not when it came to his sexuality, at any rate. The boy was barely into adulthood - not a teen, but in his early twenties. He had short, black hair and his naked body was lean and just the right side of muscular. Not too much muscle, but enough to make John's mouth water. He had a thin dusting of hair over his chest, a line of which went from his navel down to his groin. There was an abundance of pubes - something that John would have to take care of later. He didn't like his boys to be too hairy, but nor did he like them hairless. The boy had nice, juicy balls that were the perfect size for torturing. John was looking forward to giving them just the right amount of abuse. He also had a surprisingly big cock. Soft, it was still thick and long, curling between his legs. A very pretty boy, with a very pretty cock. It suited him.
John himself was older, in his mid-thirties. Some might say that treating boys like this was some way to feel more masculine, but there was nothing about John that suggested that. He was a big man, over six foot tall, and he was muscular and handsome to boot. He would have had no problems picking up men (or women, for that matter). In fact, the boy (his name was Harvey) had come to his house completely of his own free will, at the promise of a good fucking. Of course, that wasn't exactly how things had happened. John had slipped something into his drink, and now Harvey was just coming around.
Harvey was spread out on a bondage table in the basement, his hands and feet cuffed into bondage cuffs on each side of the table. He was spread-eagled, tight enough to cause a little pain for his joints. Reflexively, he tried to move, pulling, but there was nowhere for him to go. He tried to speak, but all that came out were muffled sounds - there was a gag in his mouth. He couldn't see - John had seen to that. He wanted Harvey to concentrate on what he was feeling, not his other senses, like sight. It was amazing how much taking away sight could enhance the other senses, could make everything so much more fun.
At the struggling, John looked up from his preparations, and smiled. "I see you're awake," he said, his voice soft and masucline. He put a hand on Harvey's side, which made Harvey jump.
"Mmmph! Mmmmmph!" Harvey said. Probably an attempt at pleading, or asking to be let go. It just came out as nonsense.
"I know, I know," John said. "But there's nothing I want from you. Nothing that will get you out of this, at any rate. All I want is your body. I want a slave that will bend to my every whim. Maybe, if you're good, I'll let you go when I'm happy. You're not the first one, and you won't be the last."
