You Will Obey (Gay BDSM Erotica)

by Ty Marton

  “YOU WILL OBEY,” indeed.

  Michael could hear the man’s breath quickening, and as his thrusting intensified, he could tell that he was close. He tightened his lips and wagged his tongue back and forth over the bottom of his shaft, gently coaxing the climax out of him. Before long, he heard the man grunt, and felt the hot, thick spray of cum splashing against the back of his mouth, the subtle, savory flavor coating his tastebuds. He sucked greedily at the man’s cock, making sure to swallow each and every drop, eagerly licking his tongue over the man’s slit until finally, chuckling softly, he pulled out.

  “Please…” Michael gasped out through choking breaths. “Please, I’ll obey… just don’t hurt me…”

  SLAP!

  Again, the man slapped Michael hard across the face, leaving his jaw throbbing and his cheek warm to the touch. He heard the stretching sound of tape being torn, a fresh piece of duct tape landing across his mouth. He felt the man’s hand at his crotch, and Michael whimpered, his legs forcibly spread, unable to defend himself. He was at the mysterious man’s mercy, completely powerless to stop whatever it was that was coming next.

  All that Michael could do was suffer through it… and obey.

  He felt a tight band being stretched over his testicles, his scrotum being tightly tied off, leaving his balls bulging. Then, metal clamps bit down, one on each testicle. God, Michael thought to himself, wincing in fear and discomfort, what the hell have I gotten myself into?

  It was only a few moments before he found out, as electricity began coursing through the clamps, directly into Michael’s crotch.

  His entire body instantly jolted upright against his bonds, the immense pain knocking the wind out of him. His face twisted and contorted, his mouth curled open into a silent, helpless, agonized snarl, tears beginning to pour uncontrollably from his eyes behind the blindfold.

  Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Michael’s captor cut the power, leaving him shaking in the chair, cold, sweaty, and gasping for air. Michael felt the captor move behind him, cutting his right arm free with a knife.

  “Hand on your cock,” the voice whispered. “Now.”

  Michael, terrified of knives, quickly obeyed.

  “You want to go free?” the captor whispered, pacing back in front of Michael. “Then cum for me.”

  Michael whimpered softly, unsure of what to do. Impatient, the captor slapped him again, even harder than before, nearly knocking Michael over in the chair.

  “I said cum for me,” the voice hissed. “Go on.”

  Whimpering again, Michael slowly began stroking his cock. He was quite honestly astonished to find that his dick was still completely hard. His intense fear of the knife had been anything but arousing – or so he had thought…

  The fear… Michael realized as he stroked himself, I’m getting off on it…

  But Michael’s captor intended for him to get off on more than just fear. With the simple flick of a switch, the clamps began once again shooting electricity through Michael’s testicles. Acting on pure instinct, he tried to reach down with his free hand and tear the clamps off, but striking fast, with brute strength and lightning-fast speed, the captor grabbed his wrist, pulling it to the side.

  The captor tsk tsked, leaning in close to Michael and menacingly tracing the tip of his knife along his chest.

  “Don’t you dare,” Michael heard his captor whisper, pure pain pouring through his veins. “Nothing stops until you cum.”

  Michael shuddered through the pain, his fear of the knife unleashing wave after wave of pure adrenaline through his body. Wearily enduring the agony of the relentless electrical current, he returned his shaky hand to his cock and continued stroking his shaft.

  “That’s it…” the voice whispered, pulling the knife away from a grateful Michael’s torso. He desperately continued jacking off, focusing every ounce of his will power on ignoring the pain.

  Please, just cum… he thought to himself. Just get it over with…

  Then, seemingly from out of nowhere, Michael felt a hot, wet warmth trickling over his chest.

  “Keep jacking it, pig,” the voice hissed.

  Michael realized what was happening right as the smell hit his nostrils.

  He was being pissed on.

  The captor gave a low chuckle, raising the stream to splash over Michael’s face, the hot piss trickling down over Michael’s body, splashing down to his cock. Michael felt as if he were drowning in the disgusting, dehumanizing smell, as if it were surrounding him, enveloping him.

  He was running on the pure adrenaline of fear, bearing the extreme pain of electricity pumped directly into his testicles, and enduring the complete degradation of a golden shower. Fear, pain, and degradation, all at once.

  And he was jerking off to it.

  Stroke by stroke, Michael brought himself closer to climax. It was near, he could feel it, and as his captor finally stopped pissing on him, he began to feel a small inkling of hope. He was so close… if he could just finish and cum, then maybe this would really all be over…

  “I’m getting bored, slut,” the voice growled. “I think maybe you need some extra motivation…”

  In seconds, the strength of the electrical current seemed to double, and Michael felt his entire body seizing, his muscles tensing, his hand involuntarily clenching at his shaft. The intensity was overwhelming, and he couldn’t help but let out a muffled scream of pain through the tape over his mouth.

  “Don’t you dare stop,” the voice hissed into his ear, bringing the tip of the knife back against his pectoral muscle.

  Michael whimpered and slowly began jacking again, not knowing how on earth he was ever going to make himself cum amidst so much fear and pain. But all that he could do was obey – it was the only option his captor left for him. If he wanted Michael to jack off, Michael would obey.

  And if he wanted Michael to cum…

  Oddly enough, Michael seemed to take some sort of strength from that train of thought. He had no choice – if this anonymous master wanted him to cum…

  …Michael would obey.

  He pushed through the scorching pain, jacking his cock faster and faster, grunting with exertion. Soon, he was close once again, on the verge of the most intense climax he had ever experienced…

  “Yes…” the voice whispered into his ear. “That’s it…”

  Michael gave a muffled cry as he passed a point of no return. It was happening… he was going to cum…

  And then, he came. Shrieking out through the duct tape, Michael felt as if his cock was exploding as he orgasmed, the intense pain seeming to force the cum out of him, spurt after spurt shooting out and splashing over his lap in perfect rhythm with the pulsing electricity. He moaned, nearly in sobs, as the pleasure swirled with the pain through each and every square inch of his body. It was overwhelming – so much so, that Michael didn’t even hear the repeated flashes of a camera photographing him.

  Then, as abruptly as it had started, the power cut out, the electricity vanishing. The instant relief was almost as physically jarring as the electricity itself had been, and Michael found himself wincing as if still in pain, his exhausted body struggling to readjust. Without the constant stream of pain, it was as if a curtain had been lifted, and Michael could finally fully feel everything else swimming inside of him – the fear, the humiliation, the pleasure… It was an intoxicating cocktail of submission, and Michael felt drunk.

  SPLASH!

  Another bucket of frigid water splashed over Michael, jarring him even further and rinsing the piss and cum off of him. He began shivering violently, his body desperate for relief from the constant barrage of stimuli.

  “Very good, slut,” the voice whispered. “But just remember… this is only the beginning...”

  Michael whimpered at the thought of it, but his thoughts were quickly cut short by the feeling of a needle pricking its way into his neck. Michael recoiled with surprise, and in a few moments, found his head swirling, his thoughts mudd
led.

  It only took a few seconds for the sedative to do the trick. Once again, Michael was out cold.

  **********

  Chapter Three

  TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP.

  Michael jarred awake, feeling as if virtually no time had passed. Disoriented, he looked around, surprised to find himself back in the driver’s seat of his car, fully clothed. The only thing restraining him was his seat belt.

  Confused, he stared blankly at his surroundings for a moment, until:

  TAP TAP TAP.

  He turned, in his seat, startled to find a face outside his window, peering in from the darkness, tapping a badge against the glass.

  A police officer.

  Michael’s head was filled with conflicting emotions and fears as he rolled the window down. What did this officer want? Was he in trouble? Should he tell him what had happened?

  What had happened?

  “License and registration, please,” the officer said.

  Still groggy, Michael fumbled in his pocket for his wallet, handing his ID card to the officer, then turned to his glove apartment. He pulled it open, then tried his best not to react to what he saw:

  Another photograph sitting on top of his car’s manual, a picture of him naked in the chair, drenched in piss, cumming uncontrollably. Scrawled at the bottom were those three, familiar words – “YOU WILL OBEY.”

  Michael quickly brushed the photo to the side and pulled the manual out, closing the glove compartment before the officer could peek inside. He unzipped his leather manual and pulled his registration card from the inside flap, handing it over.

  “What, ah, what seems to be the problem, officer?”

  “The problem, Mr. Baines,” the cop coldly explained without looking up from the registration, “is that you’re illegally parked by the side of a state highway with your lights off. It’s dark out, and someone’s liable to crash right into you if they aren’t careful.”

  That explained it – Michael had been drugged and left by the side of the road. He let out a small sigh of relief. At least he was free, and safe.

  “I’m so sorry, officer,” he said. “I… couldn’t stay awake behind the wheel, so… I pulled over to rest my eyes, and, well, I guess I fell asleep.”

  The officer eyed him behind his dark aviators. Michael wondered why he wore them at night.

  “You sure that’s all it is?” he asked. “You seem a little… out of sorts.”

  Michael smiled dismissively. “I’m sure I do,” he said, riffing. “I’m just really tired. Look, this has never happened to me – I have a clean record. Is there any way you could let me off with a warning? I just want to get home…”

  The cop continued eyeing him, still skeptical.

  “Please,” Michael went on. “It’s been a really… long day. I promise you there’s nothing funny going on here.”

  The cop finally nodded, handing Michael back his things.

  “That’s the right answer, Michael,” the cop said.

  Michael felt a lump in his throat. That voice…

  “I’ll be in touch soon,” he continued. “And until then… I’ll be watching.”

  And with that, the cop strolled away, quickly mounting a motorcycle and speeding off before a stunned Michael could think to say anything else.

  That was him. The two of them had been face to face.

  Of course, with his motorcycle helmet and dark sunglasses, Michael could barely even describe the man now. He had streaked off into the night on his bike, and Michael was just as helpless and confused as ever.

  He reached over, re-opening the glove compartment and pulling out the photo, staring at it quietly in the dark car. It was almost hard for him to believe that it was real, that he had actually been tied to that chair, tormented, and made to cum. All of it seemed more like a bad dream than anything else.

  But here it was in his hand, proof. Michael was fixated by it. In the photo, his face was twisted in agonized ecstasy, his every muscle flexed tense. His captor had restrained him and pushed him to the brink, had forced him to cum, to feel pleasure from it.

  And in the back of his mind, Michael knew that somewhere, a part of him had enjoyed it.

  And it craved more.

  The thought frightened Michael immensely. The only thing scarier than wondering what his tormentor had planned for him next was knowing that he couldn’t fight it, wouldn’t fight it.

  He would obey.

  Finally, he forced himself to stop staring at the picture, and turned it over. Written on the back were three more words for him. He gave a weary sigh at the sight.

  “UNDER YOUR SEAT.”

  Reluctantly, Michael felt around beneath his seat, finally coming back up with a small cardboard box. On top of the lid, a phone number was scrawled. Michael furrowed his brow, curious, wondering what could be inside, wondering if he was supposed to call. But first, he folded the lid up, opening the box.

  Inside was a sizable steel butt plug and a tiny squeeze packet of lube. Written on the inside of the lid, more instructions.

  “YOU WILL OBEY. WEAR THIS. WHEN THE TORMENT STOPS, CALL WITHIN 90 SECONDS.”

  The torment? Michael didn’t understand – at least, until he ran his fingers over the plug’s cold steel.

  Immediately, he felt a shock – not nearly as brutal as his testicles had endured, but still significant.

  “Fuck…” he muttered quietly to himself, cautiously picking up the plug, struggling not to drop it as it pulsed out steady, quick bursts of electricity.

  Slowly, Michael unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down past his thighs. He reached down between his legs, squeezing the lube out onto his ass, working it up into his cavity with a finger. Michael was no stranger to assplay, but he had never had very much inside of him, and had always topped other guys. The most he had experienced was a curious finger or two during his morning shower. The plug wasn’t too terribly big, but it was still larger than anything he had experienced, and on top of that, it was going to shock him repeatedly from the inside out…

  But he didn’t have a choice, and even if he did, he knew that part of him wanted that plug in his ass, wanted this stranger to continue dominating him, wanted to venture down that dark path.

  And so Michael worked the plug between his legs, enduring the shocks as it brushed between his thighs. Gradually, he worked it up into his ass, groaning gently as it slid into place, settling around the flared bottom. It went in easier than he expected, but the shocks were nastier than he had imagined. Each of the first few made him jolt upwards a little in his seat – which only drove the plug in deeper as his weight shifted back down.

  It was a deviously sadistic torment, but it was Michael’s to endure.

  As he pulled his pants back up, biting his lip as the shocks continued, Michael could only wonder how long he would have to endure it. Until the battery died? Surely that couldn’t be much more than… a few hours? Longer?

  He simply didn’t know. It wasn’t up to him – he was just a toy for this man to play with. It didn’t matter that the man was long gone on his motorcycle. He still had full control over Michael, still dominated his every moment, still possessed his body, still claimed the freedom to inflict pain upon it…

  With that knowledge in mind, Michael started the car, beginning the drive home, each shock reminding him that he was no longer free.

  He was a slave.

  **********

  “There he is… Mike, we were starting to worry.”

  Walking in the front door, Michael gave his wife a confused look as she came up and kissed him hello.

  “We?” he asked.

  She frowned, sighing pointedly at him.

  “Mom’s here,” she said, her voice low. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

  Michael winced, a combination of pain from the electricity still pulsing through his ass and frustration with the fact that on tonight of all nights, he had to put up with his mother-in-law.

  “I’m sorry, Maggie,
” he said wearily. “It’s been a hell of a day.”

  “It must have been – it’s already 8:00 and you’re just getting home…”

  “I know, I’m sorry,” he said, desperately doing his best to bullshit his way back into her good graces. “The boss hated my mark-ups, so I stayed late to redo them. Lost track of the time, and…”

  She shook her head, patting him on the shoulder. “It’s all right, just… just get in here and make nice. Dinner is just about ready.”

  Maggie was a kind-faced woman, plain and smallish with light brown hair and soft features. As a wife, she was everything that Michael could ask for – communicative, trusting, giving…

  But still, she couldn’t fulfill Michael’s deepest desires, and even if she could, Michael was simply too ashamed of them to ask her to. They would always be his darkest secret, the one side of him that he could never share with her.

  The guilt was immense, but Michael saw it as a necessary cross to bear in order to act on his desires without hurting anyone. Michael loved his wife dearly, and would do anything for her. He knew how devastated she would be if she ever learned of his extramarital indiscretions, and knew that he would do anything to prevent that from happening. In his own selfish way, keeping his secret life a secret was the most selfless thing that he could do for her.

  “Here he is, Mom,” she said, leading him into the living room. “He just got tied up at work, like I said.”

  “Roberta, hi,” he said, moving to the couch to give the woman a hug. “I’m so sorry I’m… late.”

  Roberta eyed him suspiciously, clocking his hesitation.

  “Is everything all right, Michael?”

  He smiled at her, struggling to ignore the painful electricity still pulsing through his ass, the strength of current varying by the second. Whoever this man in control was, he was toying with him.