One glass spiked with a hypnotic drug plus one hot businessman equals one hell of a night.
Of course he won’t remember a thing… but with the appropriate triggers planted deep in his subconscious, he’ll be clearing his personal schedule every night for the next few weeks… all because he’s got a very important client meeting at your house… and it’s his number one priority to always give the client everything he wants…
That’s right boy listen to my voice and go deeper and deeper down. As my hand rubs you it makes you so much more relaxed and open to my suggestions. You know you need to obey me and be obedient to me. Good Boy!
In fact, I called your assistant and cancelled your day…said you were going to be tied up at home today….for awhile…oh yeah…you’re gonna be tied up nice and tight.
Whats that, buddy? Sounds like you’re trying to say “NO!”…tough to hear you with that tape gag sealing your mouth up tight. No matter. Damn, you look good tied up in that suit of yours. Been driving me crazy for months…strutting around our apartment…like your suits tight don’t you?….your tight khaki pants too…..so often in just your tighty whities…you think I didn’t notice, bro?….good looking stud like you ….bragging about the women you’re bagging…
What’s that? Sounds like “untie me?”….no way, buddy. Been wanting to get you tied for a while now..big alpha stud like you. I’m gonna keep you in your suit for a while….But don’t worry…you’ll be in that tight underwear you like so much too…oh hell yeah…you’re gonna be tied up nice and tight in that, buddy. Teach you some humility…discipline….Now….let’s get you laced up nice and tight in this leather hood….Lights out, buddy….heheheheh….
He was the hardest on the team to break. He didn’t want to be hypnotized, didn’t want to hear what the deep, dark voice was telling him. But it was so warm, and so relaxing in the warm sauna… No He had to fight, to resist, he didn’t want to become like them. So docile, so dopey, so obedient. I was so easy, to… No, he had to… Had to… He wanted to obey… It felt so good to obey… Yes…
He thinks he’s bound at the wrists and ankles, the poor guy. It’s only partially my fault, of course. He was perfectly comfortable and dazed as long as he had his head leaned back and the spiral was on the television. I was the one who led him down into the bliss of his trance, and the one who flicked off the T.V. and brought him back. I was the one who caressed every inch of him; the one who stripped off his clothes with the care of a doctor; the one who kissed him and told him he was loved and warm and welcome.I was the one who told him he was bound with by velvet at the wrists and ankles. I was the one who massaged him through those longjohn-looking pants, who unsheathed him and made his eyes roll back into his head as he came mutely in what would otherwise be a screaming orgasm. I’m the one who convinced him that he offered his cum to the spiral and that it means the loss of his free will.
So, yes, it’s partially my fault. Mea culpa.
But he’s the one with the great body. He’s the one with the dip in his chest that simply demands to be filled with tequila and drank out of. So forgive me if I twist open the bottle and snap a picture.
James felt nothing, heard nothing, and saw nothing. Until his name was called, and his senses flooded back, and he took a deep gasping breath. The roar of the crowds came down on him, almost crushing. The confusion was temporary as he stood in the archway to enter the field, alone. He was the last player to take to the field. James took off, wondering how he could have missed the excitement and din of the fans. How come he didn’t remember changing into his uniform.
The whistle blew, and the ball came his way. He felt faster, better, focused, as the other players came at him. They only existed on the peripheral, and were gone just as fast. Their falls, and missed steals never entering his conscious mind. The net was close, and he gave one last kick. James stood frozen, watching it slip into the net.
“I serve and obey,” he muttered. Then he turned to take defense.
Every face he saw was blank. The only change was red and yellow, and the spinning sphere he sought. The crowd was still screaming, but James couldn’t hear. He saw an opponent across the field with the ball, and flew in that direction. Cutting the distance with ease, he slid, kicking the ball away to a teammate, and he cum’d.
“I’m a Good Soccer Slave.”
Then he was back up, and the game continued.
Hours later, wet from head to toe, the final buzzer went off, and James walked off the field. The buzzer hit him hard, turning off the machine he had become. James sat in the grass, taking inventory of what had happened, and most importantly, why couldn’t he remember the game.
The last two hours were gone. James was used to sweating, but something wasn’t right. His cock was soaked, and sticky. He ran to the archway, and slipped into a janitors closet.
He pulled his soccer shorts down, and hesitated before checking his boxer briefs. They were completely stained. Stuck to his crouch, the cloth separated from cock like softening glue. He could still see drops of wet cum. He took his shorts and briefs off completely, hanging his soccer shorts over his hard cock, and bringing his boxer briefs to his face. He began sucking on them, swallowing ever last drop of wet cum left. With his free hand he squeezed the leftover cum from his cock. He then switched to sucking on his wet soccer shorts, and using his briefs to stroke, collect, must have more soccer cum.
James continued this process, for a while undisturbed. Left alone to embrace his need, to cum, to be mindless, to obey.
A never ending supply of cum, and James, the star soccer player drank every drop. Once again, James was nothing but a machine.
The door opened, and flashlights found James in his current state. His eyes closed, cumming, jerking, and sucking. He paid the men no mind, he was still a machine.
“Looks like we found him. Let’s take him back, he must be out of it by now. His station is ready, it’s going to take a long time for this one to be filled again.”
The men snapped his fingers in front of James, patted him on the cheek.
“Wha….what happened? Where,” and he looked at himself. “What is this!” James, even though almost naked, tried to leap over the men, and escape. But the men were quicker, they gagged him, and carried him struggling out of the closet, and down the hall.
James was to weak to put up much physical resistance, and he was led to the chair. It felt familiar, but he still resisted. The men held him spread eagle, and bathed him, washing all the sweat and cum away, shampooing and drying his hair……it……felt…..good. They put a new uniform on, and James let them, feeling renewed in the clean soccer kit. One if the men injected him, and he no longer felt aroused. Once dressed, James went to the chair, and sat, waiting silently as the helmet and face plate attached.
The brainwashing chair went into action, and James sighed, and sank in deeper.
so hard to think. was i getting in gear or out of gear? … wait, why would i be getting out of gear? wait, was there a game? i was on the team? i have this memory of sitting with my friends and we were talking about philosophy, but … wait, no, what the fuck haha that shit sucks. man, i’m goin crazy! my bros Brad n Chad n Trey don’t talk about that smart fuckin shit… and neither do i. i’m even thinkin about droppin out to go pro, bro. who the fuck needs school anyway…