Soft

Soft

By 2nn

WARNING! This story is not for minors or people who don’t like sexual writings and such. It deals with hard core homosexual sex and body modifications. If this offends you or you are a minor, stop reading now.

Chapter 1: Meeting

I’m not on the prowl, looking to hook up or anything like. It’s been two months since I broke off with my then boyfriend and although the breakup was friendly enough – we both agreed it had run it’s course – I don’t feel like finding a new boyfriend just yet and – I don’t even feel like a quick fuck right now. I am perfectly satisfied by myself at the moment.

However, no matter that I’m not looking and that the setting, which is purely professional, doesn’t invite it in the least, this guy attracts my attention in a very specific way. Not that he’s the kind of guy I would normally go with at all. He is very well trained and I certainly like that, but he is also at older than me and by more than a little. That and he’s shorter than me, which is normally a slight turnoff for me. No less than four full inches I think, if not five. Closer to five.

The guy shouldn’t be attracting anything other than polite attention from me, but he is. Although we are engaged in a purely professional talk and his words are completely straight, his eyes, his movements and the way he positions himself in relation to me, has me thinking more of a pickup at bar than anything else. It’s deeply disturbing and I can’t concentrate on a word he’s saying. He is standing just a tiny bit too close. He looks me straight in the eye at all times and those eyes carry a secret smile just for me. Occasionally his hand grazes some part of me: my hand, my lower arm and even my hip. I am sure that the casual observer doesn’t even spot them and I am equally sure that most straight guys would pass them off as accidents, but I am also quite sure that they are not. He is also extremely charming and I find myself not only giggling and outright laughing more than I should, but also getting quite hot under the collar, my cock not hard but feeling the heat as they say.

He dominates the conversation, directing it wherever he wants it to go and soon he directs it towards personal matters, discretely maneuvering me into a corner of the room, well away from most of the others. As predicted none of the other men in the room – presumably all straight – notice, but I get a very penetrating and knowing look from an executive looking female in her mid-fifties. Her wry smile as he backs me into a corner makes it quite clear that she knows what’s going on and her knowledge in turn makes me blush slightly. The man sees it and glances over his shoulder, chuckling softly as he returns his attention to me: “And I thought I was being discrete”, he says and looks me straight in the face, all pretense of business now dropped. He wants me and its written over all over his face. I blush furiously now, but keep looking at him as I try a warm smile, which comes out way too tentative and needy. He reacts to this by taking my hand and gently stroking it with his thumb as he smiles and begins to talk.

His name is Tom and he is an athletic man of 42, making him 19 years older than me, well outside anything I’ve tried before. Broad in the shoulders and with strong arms and big hands, at 5’9” he is five inches shorter than me, but I estimate that he is so muscular that he probably more than me, without having a single ounce of excess fat on him. All this I know because it flows effortlessly from him, as he has me simply walk out on whatever the hell it was we were doing and go with him. It’s in the middle of the day and we are both supposed to be at work, yet here we are at a café and he telling me all this while getting at least as much information out of me in return. This has gone from being a hook-up to a date.

And I like him. I like him a lot. I can’t recall being this smitten with anyone before. When he says something nice or approving about me, I get all hot under the collar, blushing and stammering and he has me completely overrun and dominated in less than an hour. Much to my surprise I find that I actually like the fact that he’s older than me and stronger too.

After two hours of quiet, low key and incredibly intense conversation, his hand moves up my thigh below the table and I almost lose my breath as he looks me in the eye: “You’re a nice little bottom aren’t you?” It is true that I usually bottom, but I have topped guys before and I try to say so but it comes out all garbled, happy gibberish as I try very hard to please him. He laughs softly and looks me in the eye again, now with an intensity that forces me to look down: “Come off it now: You’re a sweet and soft bottom for me aren’t you?” It’s humiliating, but also very hot and I really, really want him to like me, to want me. Besides he is absolutely right; I would never top a man like him. Could never do it. For this guy I would be all bottom, all the time. Blushing furiously and guided by his finger on my chin I look up and timidly, hopefully, desperately wanting him to like me: “Yes. Yes, for you I’d be all bottom”. He smiles and says: “Good boi”. I start slightly at this and he catches it at once: “You’ve never had a Daddy, have you?”. When I shake my head dumbly he moves in for the kill: “But you’d love to have me as your Daddy, now wouldn’t you boi?” Of course I have thought about such relationships, what younger bottom hasn’t?, but never sought such a relationship. Now, however, as one hand squeezes mine gently while his other massages the inside of my thigh, I find that I want it a great deal. If he wants it, I want it too. If it means he’ll touch me and talk to me more, I want it. “You want to my soft bottom boi, don’t you boi?” And I do. So bad. “Yes”, is my obvious reply but this provokes a frown from him and I desperately search for the words to please him: “I’m sorry Daddy. Yes please Daddy, I would love to be your soft bottom boi…..Daddy” I somehow stammer out, desperately wanting his approval, yet intensely humiliated by calling him “Daddy”.

My eagerness obviously pleases him and without asking me what I want and without letting me even attempt to pay, brushing off my attempts as ridiculous nonsense, he pays the bill and has me in a taxi in 10 minutes, on the way to his place.

The café was a discrete place, but with an obviously gay friendly atmosphere, so there were no problems and no raised eyebrows as he sat there obviously seducing me; succeeding to a near ridiculous degree. Taxis are another matter and here he plays it so very cool, sitting almost at an arm’s length, not talking too much, sensible and discrete. Doesn’t matter to me. I still love just being near him. I’m drawn to him, being pulled in, almost like gravity. While I have always been a sucker for attention from my lovers and have always responded strongly to praise and approval, I can’t recall ever being so eager for anyone’s approval. I can’t get enough of his attention and I am definitely feeling the beginnings of a crush here.

Once the door closes behind us in his apartment there is, however, little discretion left, little subtlety. He presses me against the wall as he kisses me deeply and his force and control completely removes any awkwardness that might have been due to difference in heights. He is just as controlling and forceful in his kissing as he is in conversation and personality. His hands roam my body as he pushes his tongue into my mouth and sweeps me off my feet. There is, however, no frantic ripping of clothes or anything like that. Rather he slowly undresses both himself and me on the way into the apartment, our path ending at a very large designer sofa, where we are both naked.

My God he’s beautiful; strong, muscular arms and legs, nice abs and with just the right amount of body hair; somewhat hairy chest, but not a rug and none on his back. He is obviously an athlete and he obviously works hard to stay in shape. His cock is also a thing of beauty; uncircumcised, it rises in a gentle curve to about seven inches. It’s thick, but not overly so and thickly veined. It’s head is an attractive blue mushroom. My hands find it naturally as we sit on the couch, kissing and fondling. He has absolute control and his hands are everywhere; stroking my legs, my chest, my ass, occasionally just quickly performing one single outrageously arousing stroke along the length of my very hard five inch cock.

I’ve had my fair share of sex, never having been shy about it and being fairly attractive, but I can’t recall ever being this aroused. It’s more than just his touch. It’s his attention, his pleasure in me I realize somewhere deep inside. I love that he likes me, wants me. His attention, his desire is an aphrodisiac and I am drinking my fill.

After a long time spent kissing and fondling, he pulls away and looks at me: “Be a good boi now and please Daddy. You know how to please Daddy, don’t you boi?” he asks and I certainly do: “Yes Daddy,” I reply and move my head into his crotch, slipping off the couch in the same movement so that I kneel on the floor between his legs as I blow him. As I slip him into my eager mouth he tilts my head up and looks me into my eyes: “A good boi maintains eye contact”, he states simply and perhaps just because it is so humiliating being bossed around like that, I feel a new surge of heat in my crotch. He insists on eye contact throughout and every time I get carried away and close my eyes or look down as I work him for all I’m worth, his hands on my head tilt my face up and he admonishes me: “Eye contact like a good boi”. Being mostly bottom is for me connected with being slightly submissive also, I have known this for a long time, but maybe I’m, not really slightly submissive, but outrageously so I realize now. Being controlled in such a humiliating way gets me off big time.

For his part he also maintains strict eye contact, even when he cums, his eyes becoming even more intense as his pelvis thrusts upwards, deeper into my mouth and he grunts his pleasure out: “Swallow me boi”. I would have done so anyway, but the humiliation of being ordered is exquisite. His load is big and he tastes good and swallowing it while seeing the obvious pleasure he takes in me is just perfect. “Good boi”, he says and strokes me condescendingly on my cheek, making my face burn with arousal and humiliation.

I am now more aroused than ever and really, really need to cum, so after carefully and gently sucking the last cum out of him and licking him very clean, I gently disengage and sit back on my haunches and without even thinking about it, I begin masturbating. It will only take a second; I am so ready to cum. His voice is cold as ice: “Who said you could masturbate boi? Have you been given permission to cum?” I stop cold in my tracks, but with my hand still on my cock. “Take that hand away now boi!” he snaps I jerk my hand away faster than I thought possible, leaving my needy erection alone. I am confused and a little scared at this change in him, but also aroused. Both from what has led up to this moment and what he is doing now. “Good bois ask for permission, don’t they boi?” he inquires sternly. Fuck! I can’t believe this is happening or that it gets me so hot. I feel like I have caught cheating or stealing. I feel trapped and like want to squirm away or at least look away, but he won’t let me. There is only one answer and my voice squeaks it out, like its beyond my control: “Yes Daddy. I’m sorry Daddy”. He doesn’t smile like I expected, but instead goes on: “And what happens to bois who have been bad?” I don’t know! I can’t think! He has me trapped with his eyes, like some dumb animal cowering in the headlights of the oncoming car. This man does things to me I didn’t think possible and I am sure my eyes are big and dumb as they dart around the room searching for an answer that isn’t there.

Then suddenly it comes to me and when it does I have to suppress a moan of excitement and defeat. Timidly I offer: “They get punished…?” A big smile breaks across his face I am so relieved that I said something he liked. “Good boi,” he says and goes on: “and what kind of punishment would be suitable for a boi who’s been bad?” Again I have to search my scattered mind, so focused on his approval, that it takes a minute before the extremely humiliating answer hits me: “A spanking Daddy?” I ask in a voice so low I can barely hear it myself. “Speak up boi”, is the stern command from him and I manage to reply a little louder, but certainly no more firmly: “A spanking Daddy?” My heart flutters with nervousness and desire as his face lights up again: “Good boi. Yes a spanking is appropriate for a bad boi. Now be good boi and ask Daddy nicely for a spanking”. There is no dignity in the sound that escapes me before I manage to reply, but I do manage it: “I’m sorry I’ve been bad Daddy. Can I please ask to be spanked Daddy? Please Daddy?”

Of course I can and a minute later I am lying across Daddy’s lap, my deflating erection trapped beneath me as he twists my arm and let’s my ass feel the full force. “I’m sorry Daddy”, I cry out. “I’m so sorry Daddy. I won’t do it again Daddy. Please stop Daddy. Please!” My please becomes cries which turn into hopeless wordless sobbing as he makes my exposed ass burn with sharp pain and peels away any pride and dignity I might have. Every blow of his hard palm, alternating in perfect rhythm between my ass cheeks, peels away a piece of my pride and renders me more vulnerable, the pain and the humiliation travelling undiminished directly from my ass to my mind. There is only the pain in my ass cheeks and the humiliation of his treatment, yet the effect is far more profound as Daddy works his way into my mind, bends it to his will it seems to me, deepening my already incomprehensible need to please him.

Then, suddenly it’s over and Daddy turns me over and picks me up, cuddling me close to his body as he comforts me: “There, there boi. It’s over now. Calm down boi. Easy now”. I’m too upset to form words properly so I sob hopeless apologies, promising to be a good boi, promising not to touch myself again without approval. I press my face into his chest and let loose; it’s as if all the bad things come crashing and I cry them out along with my remorse over letting Daddy down. His strong arms hold me tight as I curl up against him and cry forever, his hands stroking me, soothing me all the while my stinging ass reminds me of my proper place and who is in complete control.

As my sobbing dies down, I look up into Daddy’s face, smiling comfortingly down at me and I realize that I feel perfectly safe. Cared for and cherished; held by strong arms and protected by Daddy. The sensation is as surprising as it is strong and I find that I love it. He sees the surprise in my face: “Yes boi, you need this as much as you needed a good spanking and you need this far more than you need to cum, don’t you boi?” Much to my surprise I find that he’s right. This is so amazing, a tenderness and sense of belonging unlike any I have ever known, so my answer is completely truthful: “Yes Daddy. Thank you Daddy”. Although taller than him, I am small and insignificant in his arms, but also protected, safe. It’s overpowering and I begin crying again, pressing my face into his skin again. I am falling in love I realize, but it can’t be. It’s far too soon, it feels far too strong to be true and I cannot reconcile in my head his domination and even outright brutality with the feeling of safety and comfort I feel now. I realize I am being overwhelmed emotionally here, overrun as it were, but I find that I neither can nor will resist it. I press my sobbing face into his strong chest and let loose once more, lost and in love.

When my sobbing has died down, Daddy stands me up and leads me by the hand to the bedroom. The lovemaking is gentle and considerate, yet also direct and utterly controlled. Daddy kisses my tears away as we lie down and then moves down over my defenseless body. He wants me passive and rejects all attempts at me becoming active, except for returning his kisses. He kisses and licks every single square inch of my body, paying special, gentle attention to my ass cheeks, which he kisses so gently I can’t believe that he was the one hurting them just now. He licks my thighs and kisses my neck, nearly giving me a hickey like an overeager teenager. When I am again unbelievably hard, he produces condoms and lube and places me on all fours. He is big, but I am ready for him and I moan with pleasure as he slides ever so gently home.

He focuses entirely on fucking me at first, leaving my poor needy cock to twitch in the wind. I still love it and I don’t even think to ask him to touch me. I love anal and this is better than anything I’ve ever tried. It’s so good I don’t even think about asking him to masturbate me, much less touch myself. Although I am completely absorbed by what he is doing to me, I still remember the brutal spanking vividly, but even more I remember his disapproval and I am desperate to avoid that.

I’m not really out of breath, being in good shape, but I am covered in sweat and panting quite loudly when his hand finds my cock, finding me completely unprepared, surprised even, and in a matter of seconds I shoot my load, soundlessly screaming with my head thrown back as he pumps both my ass and my cock for all there is.

My orgasm, which is glorious, fabulous and perhaps the best I’ve ever had, comes and goes, but he keeps stroking me as the aftershocks hit me. This is both painful and adds an extra layer of pleasure to the orgasm, so that I am doing low key screaming when he finally shoots his load for the second that evening. As he pulls out he lets go of me and I collapse in a heap of sated boi flesh. Daddy pulls out and throws the condom away, then twists my head and kisses me deeply, then locks eyes with me and whispers: “Good boi”. I am so happy I nearly cry at this. Then he lets me fall back into the position I was in before he turned my head; somewhere between lying on my stomach and lying on my side. He throws his leg over me and reaches around with his arm, grabbing my arms and pulling them in towards my body, trapping me in place, restricting my movements. Not really a comfortable position, but not uncomfortable either, I fall asleep feeling controlled, dominated, spent, sated and very happy.

I wake in the middle of the night to the sound of the toilet flushing, followed by him sliding underneath the covers again. He cups my ass, kisses my neck and says: “Daddy needs your mouth boi”, after which he guides my head into his crotch. There is no force at all involved as I as eagerly as I slide my body, which feels surprisingly stiff and used and of course sports a very sore ass, into position between his legs. The blowjob is slow and almost sleepy and I feel like a very good boi when he grunts and I swallow his load as he watches me, obviously satisfied. I do not get to cum, Daddy whispering “no touching boi” into my ear as we spoon and fall asleep again, but it’s alright. Pleasing him really means surprisingly much to me.

He wakes me up much earlier than I am used to, but it’s worth it. Not only do we enjoy and long and very sensuous shower together, but before we do that Daddy fucks me while I hold on to the bathroom sink. This one is fast and rough and again he doesn’t touch me at all, concentrating only on himself and again I am surprised at my own reaction. I am very much in need of cuming of course, but I also find his pleasure is what is important here.

After throwing away the condom, he makes me kneel on the bathroom floor and suck him clean. I am now sporting a very needy erection but I remember last night’s lesson and don’t touch it. I take as long as possibly can with the cleaning, but surprisingly he doesn’t let me continue when he’s beginning to get hard again. I am actually a little disappointed until he squats down beside me and takes my chin in his hand and kisses me: “Very good boi,” he says, “now put your hands behind your head”. I comply without even thinking about it and thus sit kneeling with my legs spread wide as Daddy lets his left hand move gently down from my shoulders, over my back until it rests on my ass. His touch is electric and I moan, involuntarily pushing my pelvis forward. He immediately uses this as he grabs my cock in his right hand and begins to masturbate me. He locks eyes with me, a knowing and utterly dominant smile dancing in his eyes, and keeps me locked there as he strokes my butt expertly and masturbates me with skill than can only be called truly masterful. Even if I hadn’t been as excited as I am now, he would still have me cuming in minutes. As it is he has to stop a few times before letting me explode. I scream like a little bitch as my cock sprays his body and face with cum, my hips jerking almost to the point of making me lose my balance and topple over.

He sits there, splattered with my cum, yet he looks not in the least bit disturbed by this. There is a reason for this: “Lick me clean boi”. Soon I am gently suckling his nipple, the last remnant of my orgasm long since licked away and swallowed, but he lets me continue so I enjoy it to the fullest.

After doing all the usual morning stuff, we eat breakfast together and for the first time I begin to realize that his treatment of me hasn’t been as much an expression of his sexual nature, but of his nature as a whole. I am not allowed clothes during breakfast and so sit naked and defenseless, while he is fully dressed. I am absurdly grateful when he places a soft cushion on a chair, pulls it out and seats me, treating me like…like…well, like a princess really and the very thought makes me cringe even as it makes me go all soft and emotional, yet also very aroused. He does everything for me and is overpoweringly gentle and considerate, but never asks me at all, dominating everything completely. We don’t even eat the same; he eats a hearty, but healthy breakfast of fruits, cereal and full fat yogurt washed down with strong coffee. I get a vegetable smoothie and a small bowl of berries and nuts with a bit non-fat yogurt, a glass of water and a cup of herbal tea. It’s delicious, even the vegetable smoothie, but I would much rather eat the same as him. That, however, is clearly not allowed and instead I settle for basking in his attention, finding it a more than adequate substitute.

As we chat I find that I am not only feeling the after-effects of great sex and the bubbling, ever anticipatory feeling of falling in love. I also feel…cleansed somehow. Like a load has been taken off me, even when there was no load I was aware of. I can’t explain it, but he clearly sees something in me and asks. Haltingly, fumbling for words, I try to explain what I am feeling besides the aftermath of good sex, deftly leaving the falling in love bit out, as I think it too much for such an early stage. We are, after all, just two guys who hooked up the night before.

He, however, sees through it all: “What you are feeling boi, is the catharsis a good, sound spanking gives a boi. The sensation of having all your troubles smacked out of you by a loving hand”. I am dumbstruck as I realize that he is absolutely right and my mind flashes back to the aftermath of the spanking, where I cried out against his chest, feeling safe and secure in his strong arms. A profound warmth percolates up from deep inside me and I can only gape at him as this sinks in. “And there is something else as well, isn’t there boi?” he asks with maddeningly knowing smile of his. Unlike yesterday I have a pretty good idea what he’s talking about, but I still can’t believe he’s spotted me so easily. “Daddy?” I ask timidly, making him work for it. “I think that you’re feeling a little crush aren’t you boi? Like you’d love to try being Daddy’s boi on much more than a one night stand basis, right boi?” Oh God! He struck home in the very first try and now I squirm my sore ass into the pillow, caught again and loving it. “Well boi?” No escape. “Yes Daddy,” I say and take some pride in the fact that I meet his eye now, “I am definitely getting a crush on you and would really, really like to spend more time with you; see where this goes…Daddy”. “Excellent!” he erupts with a huge smile and suddenly I feel all giddy and happy, a big smile spreading across my face I am sure. He likes me too! He wants me! The kiss seals it and suddenly I have boyfriend instead of a one night stand.

I am not allowed to dress until right before we leave for work and I still feel sort of naked, sitting next to him in the car. He even opened the door for me, making me blush like mad. I would never have thought that I would react so docilely and submissively. I have always been independent and strongly so, but this man strips that away and I gladly let him take over completely. I should be nervous at both my own reaction and at his complete dominance, but find that I love it, basking in his attention and approval.

Chapter 2: Courting

I float in to the office on a little cloud and I am spotted at once: “Someone’s been on a date last night and by the looks it was far better than the average”. The remark comes from the department secretary and is heard by nearly all of the people gathered in a morning huddle close to her desk and I blush furiously as all heads turn towards me, leaving me unable to deny or defend myself.

I am the only male in a group of twelve women. Not only that, they are all older than me, between 5 and 10 years older. They are all straight and all of them are very well groomed, very stylish and even as a gay man I can say that there is not a single one among them that isn’t truly sexy. We are in a line of business were looks matter and we have all been selected on that basis as well as for our skills, even if it has never been spelled out. In spite of all the exhaustive and careful psychological testing that went into getting this job, I suppose that I am not only the token male of the group but also the token homosexual as this business is also all about appearances. I knew this when I took the job, but straight out of college it wasn’t as if I could afford to choose and besides the boss – also a stylish and sexy woman of course – was pleasant enough. I have never regretted taking the job as all of them accept me as I am, never expressing any hang-ups about my sexual orientation in any way or treating me differently in any way for that matter. The only problem I have is perhaps a luxury problem: I am treated as one of the girls and included in even the most frank discussions about men. The intimate knowledge these women have on male anatomy and the psychology is astounding and I often find myself blushing when they discuss these topics, which is of course part of their intentions. In discussion about private matters – which in this group invariably turns to sex sooner rather than later – I always find myself in a situation where I am the smaller part, the little brother who all the older sisters love to make blush.

This morning the secretary, Victoria is her name, takes point as they gang up on me and quiz me. After some initial fencing, where I politely try to ward off the most probing questions, Victoria moves in for the kill: “You found a Daddy, didn’t you Jeremy? Someone who wanted a pretty boi, right?” There can be no doubt that she said “boi” and not “boy” and again I must marvel at how much these women know and understand about men. It’s actually rather scary, but there is especially one thing I can’t quite understand: How did they know so much, so fast? Sure I might have had a goofy “I’ve been fucked good”-grin on my face when I walked in, but especially Victoria seemingly knows so much more. How?

The explanation is quite simple it seems: the hard faced woman who spotted us yesterday is Victoria’s old boss and they had a chat this morning. Seems she also knows who Tom/Daddy is and combined with my looks and demeanor this morning, there could be little doubt as to what kind of night I had yesterday.

I am more than a little relieved that the explanation is so simple and straightforward, but I am also curious as to how come Victoria knows the Daddy/boi terms so well, so I hang around as the others find their places, smiling and congratulating me on my catch (although I have the distinct feeling that if anyone got caught yesterday it was me). When I press her Victoria laughs easily and explains. She has a nephew it seems who is gay and about my age and he has found a Daddy. Seems they are now a couple and that her nephew has become his Daddy’s stay at home boi, finding happiness in what sounds like complete dependence on his Daddy. Sounds scary to me, but also highly arousing. The image plays out inside my head; me as a kept boi to Daddy. It’s enough to make me shudder and go hard at the same time. I don’t want to lose my independence, but at the same time the prospect of being “the little wife” for Daddy and concentrating solely on him and on our relationship does have a definite appeal. Scary, but really sexy.

The workday can’t be done soon enough for me as Daddy’s last instructions before kissing me and dropping me off, was where and when our date was for tonight. No trivial questions as to whether I could make it or not: simply a time and date and natural assumption that I would of course be there. Luckily I didn’t have anything scheduled, so at the designated time I stand outside the decidedly upscale café Daddy has chosen for our date. Doesn’t keep me waiting either, arriving only two minutes late, he apologizes profusely, going straight over into a kiss, holding nothing back at all. I am very much aware of the fact that I’m a gay man and as such must take care what I do in public, in spite of the great leaps forward that has happened in recent years, but Daddy seemingly doesn’t give a shit. He goes all out, snogging me like mad until I simply surrender and kiss back fully.

I am still sort of dazed as we enter the cafe, my heart fluttering and my stomach doing summersaults. He is so completely open and natural about us being a couple, about him wanting us to be a couple really, that I feel myself beginning to accept this even if it only is our second date. He is obviously steering this in the way and direction he wants and again I find myself following meekly, docilely, obediently…happily. Again he treats me like a princess and I both cringe inwardly and love it so very much. That a man 19 years my senior and 5 full inches shorter than me should hold the chair for me as we sit down should make me rebel, but I find myself beaming at him, loving his attention, his care. The waiter comes to take our order, but as I open my mouth Daddy cuts me off and with a very stern look, shuts me up while he orders for me. The waiter, a muscular looking female, cracks a wry smile at this and her look makes me look down, cheeks burning with shame and excitement. It is outrageously humiliating, but there can be no denying that even though I wanted to show some independence and order for myself, I am also very aroused at being treated like this.

Three hours later I am again lying across Daddy’s lap, both arms twisted behind me and held with one iron fist as the other hand, palm seemingly made of iron as well, slams into my already sore ass. Again I am crying and begging for forgiveness as my cock deflates, more of me being stripped away with each expert and humiliating blow to my ass. The spanking removes my dignity and my pride, exposing me to Daddy, making me more susceptible to him and his wishes and I am unable to prevent this in even the slightest way.

Daddy tells me that he does it because he loves me; that he does for my own good so that I can learn what it’s like to be a good boi; to learn my place and become happier. We are in bed tonight and I am held in his strong arms, crying me heart out against his strong chest. Maybe it’s because I’ve been through it once before, but today everything seems stronger and deeper, my remorse overpowering, my need to beg forgiveness intense. As I hear his soothing words explain to me what he wants and expects from me, while at the same time soothing and comforting me, I don’t feel afraid or cowed as one might expect. Considering that he has just spanked me, beaten my ass without ever asking for my consent and that he has done it so hard that my ass cheeks are bright red, one might say that I should be afraid and get out of this abusive relationship as soon as possible. I have certainly never been in this kind of a relationship before and never sought it and this can most definitely be considered a form of assault. But I don’t feel that way at all; not even close. As he holds me, soothes me and teaches me to be a good boi for him, while I cry and beg for his forgiveness, I feel so very safe and secure. I feel cared for. I feel loved in a way I had never imagined. Daddy does this because he wants me; because he loves me and I feel so grateful for it.

“You do understand that a good boi puts Daddy’s pleasure first, don’t you boi”, he asks me. Eyes wide and feeling an urgent need to be a good boi for him, my muted reply is instantaneous: “Yes Daddy, I do”. I am on my back now, on the bed with a pillow underneath my lower back. My hands are passive, lying splayed somewhat out at shoulder height. My legs are spread wide to accommodate Daddy. Although this is a complete departure from every other relationship I have ever been in, I feel very strongly that this is right for me. Most importantly I feel an urgent need to please Daddy, to be a good boi for him. I have never felt this way before, but I feel it very, very strongly now as he overpowers me completely.

“Putting Daddy’s pleasure first is an important lesson boi”, he goes on as I nod in complete acceptance, “so for the next two days you are going to go without cuming at all”. Focused utterly on Daddy as I may be, I am also hot, bothered and very, very hard and horny. “But…but… please Daddy, I…I…”. I can’t even finish the sentence, knowing the fact of my defeat in advance. “I know boi,” he says softly, “I know, but you must realize that this is all part of you learning how to be my good boi, so our love can grow even stronger”. It may sound like complete bullshit, but I love it; love him for it. He is teaching me to become more pleasing to him and that is my newfound desire; my new purpose.

Then he kisses me deeply before entering me, gently, softly, yet also with unstoppable momentum. Our lovemaking is slow and sensuous this time as he instructs me how to move, when to move and whatever else pleases him. I take every single instruction as realize how fully pleasing him also results in my own pleasure. And not only the immense mental satisfaction of seeing him be pleased with me either. His instructions quite simply make the anal sex better for me as well. Not that I have a real orgasm as such from his long and intense fucking, but I do experience something a bit like it; an intense, but somehow low key shivering of pleasure that makes my cock leak a bit more than it already is. When Daddy cums I buck and writhe with him, trying not only to make it better for him, but to get a little closer to cuming. As he settles down beside me, kisses me and calls me a good boi, I feel so happy that Daddy loves me and that I have been able to make him feel good.

The next two days are near perfect, but I am extremely horny and very eager to please Daddy. When I finally kneel on the bathroom floor, my hands clasped behind my head as Daddy masturbates me, I scream with pleasure after five simple strokes of his knowledgeable hand and spray him with my boi-cum. After licking him clean I again declare my love for him.

We go to the doctor – his doctor of course – to get a VD test. A nurse greets Daddy and me as we enter; Daddy warmly and me warmly, but with a penetrating look and a slightly condescending tone, like she sees me as inferior somehow. She is an attractive, but somehow predatory and slightly evil looking woman, but when I say this to Daddy afterwards he laughs and calls me a silly boi, smacking my bottom once for good measure.

Chapter 3: Shaping

By the time the results from the VD test arrived – we are of course both clean – two weeks later, I had moved in. It wasn’t a big surprise to anyone and frankly not really a big step for me either. Fresh out of college and having only worked two months with the company, I couldn’t really afford my own apartment and so I lived with two roommates I hardly knew and didn’t really interact with either.

A month after moving in with Daddy some quite large changes has taken place in my life and although I mostly like them a lot, they are also extreme in some ways, and would be worrying if I didn’t think I could trust Daddy completely. My economic situation is now better than it has ever been in my entire life. I earn the same as I did a month ago, but I now don’t spend a single cent. Not one. Daddy insists that he pay for everything. Everything. And he did this the day after I had moved in; declaring flatly that from now on he paid for everything and that I wouldn’t pay for anything anymore. Thinking that independence was a good thing and not wanting to burden Daddy, I objected quite fiercely to this.

Objecting harder leads to harder spankings and more forced abstinence I have learned. Me objecting to Daddy paying for everything resulted in spankings on three consecutive days and having to stay chaste for a full week. To say I learned my lesson is an understatement.

But even before moving in, Daddy had made some changes to how I behave. I now shave my face and body so that I am completely smooth and hairless from below my eyebrows to the tips of my toes. To make sure I am smooth I also rub my face and body with a special depilatory crčme as well. This seems to be quite effective as I now rarely remove any hairs with my razor at all, but seem to be getting truly hairless. I have a suspicion that this effect might be permanent, but first of all I quite like myself that smooth and secondly I love the way Daddy appreciates me like this. Pleasing him means more and more to me.

Also in effect before moving in was the diet Daddy has put me on and the special workout schedule Daddy has me following. I was quite slim as it were and in fair shape, but Daddy likes me very slim and with a lithe rather than strong body. As a result I now adhere to a diet that means I am now essentially a vegetarian or rather very nearly vegan. Food, especially comfort foods and fast food, has never meant a great deal for me and this is probably good, since the diet is quite strict. The exercise regime is not really hard, but rather different from what I have done before. Daddy’s workout for me emphasizes good legs and ass and a lithe, stretchy body, but has a complete absence of strong arms and toned muscles. I spend a lot of time on the Stairmaster in Daddy’s apartment and doing Yoga while he’s watching me. Again, both changes are quite large departures from what I have done before, but I must say I love the effects they have on my body. And Daddy loves it too.

The final requirement Daddy has imposed on me isn’t really a big change and I would have been doing it before if I had had the money. Daddy likes me lightly, but smoothly and evenly tanned, so I use the tanning bed in his apartment. I love the look and so does Daddy – obviously.

Looking at my naked and smooth body in the mirror after a month and a half of these changes to my life, Daddy standing beside me with a very pleased look on his face, I am somewhat surprised at the profoundness of the changes to my appearance. I have for some time described myself and been described as a “twink”, at least as far as appearance goes. That could still be said to apply, except I now look even younger than my 23 years of age. Not like a minor or anything creepy like that, but rather as a young or even very young twink. It makes me appear sort of weak or at least vulnerable and I know Daddy likes this and it also has the effect of making me seem slightly effeminate; limp wristed to use a nasty term. I don’t like these implications of my looks, but I love the look itself and seeing and feeling Daddy’s arms surround my hot and attractive body, I love being like this.

There is only one thing in the mirror I do not like. Hate in fact. That is the clear plastic cage that holds my cock inside a hateful, but necessary prison. It’s been nearly a month since I came and I desperately need to cum. It is of course my own fault, since I couldn’t even go a week without masturbating, but the sense of loss and defeat that accompanied Daddy fitting me with it is impossible to overstate. I know it makes me focus more on Daddy’s needs as I should and I can’t deny that his lessons sink much easier and are much more eagerly absorbed as he holds out the possibility of cuming as a reward if I behave, but I hate it.

I cannot, however, deny that it has helped make anal sex go from good to great. Daddy coaches me every night in bed (and everywhere else in his apartment) and that alone is making me enjoy anal much more as well as becoming so much better at it. But being locked up and thus only able to get even the slightest form of release that way motivates me enormously and as a result I am rapidly – in Daddy’s own words – becoming a world class ass slut. His cock pressing up inside me, touching my prostate, is the closest I get to cuming right now and I have to admit I’m loving it more and more.

Daddy likes me on my back, my legs wrapped around him, and I have to admit the helplessness of the cage bumping against his abdomen as I moved to please him, twisting, clenching and unclenching with the precise rhythm Daddy has taught me, makes me feel wonderful, fabulous. Not only from the sensation of pleasure from my boi pussy, but just as much from feeling desirable to Daddy, being a sex object for him.

My days now follow a routine – set by Daddy – that I have loved from the start. The alarm goes off on my side of the bed and while it wakes us both, I am the closest and so hear it best. I then slide down under the covers and slip him into my mouth, beginning the day with a blowjob is just so sensuous – for Daddy too. We both sleep naked and I love the sensation of Daddy’s silk sheets against my skin on one side and the feel of my skin against his on the other. After swallowing him he always strokes my skin and says “Good morning lover boi” and this invariably gives me a little shiver of contentment, knowing that he loves me too.

After cleaning him, we both head in to the bathroom. While he shaves his face I shave my body; although these days it’s been reduced to shaving off a few stray hairs and applying the depilatory crčme. We then shower together and here I am allowed to lather Daddy up in soap, to wash his hair and gently stroke his body; an activity that gives me deep pleasure. Daddy always kisses me deeply as we exit the shower stall, his hands moving over my body and making me moan for an orgasm I haven’t earned yet.

While Daddy dresses and lays out the clothes he wants me to wear that day, I prepare breakfast. I of course do this the same way I eat: naked, because that is how Daddy likes it and because it makes me feel nice, desirable and a bit naughty as well. Breakfast for Daddy is hearty and healthy: fruits, cereal, full-fat yogurt and orange juice and strong coffee. For myself I make a fruit smoothie, which I always consume through a straw. Daddy likes the way it makes me look; sitting naked and sucking on a straw. It makes his morning that much better.

I clean up after breakfast while he brushes his teeth and then hurry to do the same and dress as he wants me to. He has of course given me a whole new wardrobe, both because he wanted to and because I have lost quite a bit of weight since going on his diet. There is no huge departure from how I dressed before, but I now do dress in tighter clothes and tend to wear brighter colors. And for the first time in my life I wear real jewelry: Daddy has given me a very expensive gold chain with a heart shaped pendant for my right wrist. It suits my new style perfectly and not only Daddy thinks so; all the women at the office think so too.

Daddy then drives me to work, insisting on holding every door for me, including the car door. It has taken some adjustment – and more than a few spankings – to settle into the role of the pampered boi, but I absolutely love that he treats me so gently, so caringly, even if it seems more than a little overprotective or even possessive at times.

At work things are much the same, except that I now only have salad for lunch and have had to give up coffee as a result of Daddy’s demands. It was hard the first week, but I got so warm and emotional when he praised me for being a good boi that I soon adjusted.

I now work longer hours, since Daddy insists on him picking me up and he also has a full working day to attend to and as a result I am getting praised a lot at work. Being with Daddy is also good for my career it seems.

One or two days a week Daddy will take me out, either just for dinner or, if it’s a Friday, to a bar and a disco afterwards. All other nights we simply go home. His apartment is a very luxurious affair at the top of a skyscraper and it is equipped with its own exercise room. After work we both work out; him running and lifting weights and me on the Stairmaster and doing yoga. Here too I wear what he likes me to wear: white spandex tights and a tight white t-shirt over which I wear a pink leotard, to which I objected to quite strongly. After the spanking, though, I have gotten to like it quite a lot. It accentuates my ass and legs in a very flattering way. On my feet are white low, ankle socks and white sneakers.

After showering I cook dinner for us; vegetarian for me of course. Unlike breakfast I do wear clothes for dinner at home, at least most of the time, but here Daddy also dictates what I wear. My home outfit is always some sort of hotpants, a tight t-shirt and bare feet. I have always secretly loved wearing hotpants but never had a boyfriend I could wear it for all the time, so Daddy got an enthusiastic response to that request. The hotpants are either very tight cutoff jeans or my pink or purple hotpants; all so tight you can see the chastity cage clearly and all of them showing off my ass to my definite advantage, all ending well above that fold in my butt cheeks that I personally think is one of my most sexy features.

I clean up and wash the dishes before joining Daddy on the couch, usually carrying a drink for him to enjoy as we spend time together on the couch. Or rather while Daddy watches TV and I practice my blowjob technique. I slide in between his legs and look up for his permission. Then, once he has granted it, I take out his beautiful cock and slip it into my eager mouth, looking up at him at all times. Then, following his instructions I practice being the best little cocksucker I can be for Daddy. This usually involves keeping him on edge for hours as he likes having some jism left over for my ever craving boi pussy later on; a little something for which I am so very grateful. As per Daddy’s instructions I look up into his face at all times, keeping my focus there, but when he is not busy instructing me he naturally looks away. This took a little of Daddy’s special explaining for me to accept, but now I fully accept that he of course can’t give me all of his attention all of the time, whereas I am grateful for all the attention that he does give me.

After making ourselves ready for the night, Daddy takes me to bed and often does so literally, sweeping my naked body off my feet and carrying me to bed. Here he mounts me and teaches me and pleases me so immensely at the same time. I will never get tired of being taken by him. Never. Although my favorite is being fucked face to face, I must admit to loving the aftermath of being take doggy style even better. When he does take me that way, he always lies down on his side, taking me with him, and falls asleep still inside me. I love the feeling of being held as his breathing slows down and he deflates, his juices seeping slowly out of me and I feel loved and cared for, while at the same time feeling like I make him happy. It’s the best feeling in the whole world.

It’s been a little under two months since I moved in with Daddy and I have just given up one more control to Daddy; some pretty big pieces this time. I sit naked on the floor, legs folded up beside me and my hands folded in my lap as Daddy changes all the passwords on all my online accounts; banking, mail, social media, shopping. The lot. The spanking yesterday was the last in a series of five consecutive days of spankings and I cried and cried afterwards from relief, surrender and defeat. I have now given up control completely to Daddy, including control over money. I no longer have a credit card and Daddy has informed me that I from now on will carry a fifty dollar bill as the only money I am allowed and that this is only to be used in case of an emergency.

For the first time I am deeply uneasy. Not only at giving up control so completely, but also at Daddy’s ironfisted way of making me do it. I resisted this much harder than all the other changes he has made, insisting that this was far more wide ranging and that this required more thought, more time. Daddy did not see it that way and forced this on me without brooking even the slightest argument or resistance. I feel like I should end the relationship right now, but I don’t. I don’t want to; I really don’t want to. Because on one hand Daddy has stepped over my boundaries, ignored them completely as it were, but on the other hand I not only love him – and I still do in spite of this – but I also like this control. Like it way more than I should probably. It’s unhealthy, I know, but I am also turned on by this; by him taking one more degree of freedom away from me. Furthermore I still not only love him, but trust him. I shouldn’t considering what he has just done, but I do. He has made me feel more loved and cared for than I have felt in my entire life and everything he has done to me so far has been good for me, has made me feel better, made me healthier and happier even. This includes the things he has spanked me into accepting. One might even argue that it is especially true for those things he has had to force me to. So while I am deeply uneasy about this I also accept it and think – and hope – that it will work out for the best.

Two weeks later I am happy to be able to say to myself that it has. Not only has Daddy – of course – proven completely trustworthy and shown me on several occasions that my money is completely untouched, but having control over money removed completely has also made me happier. I now have one less thing to worry about and I find myself relishing in having given up control so completely. My change in demeanor hasn’t escaped notice at work and Victoria and my boss, Karen, cornered me one day at the coffee maker, or in my case the tea kettle. After some initial remarks about how I had gone from seeming happy and pleased to being positively radiant, they probed me deeply with their questions until I could hold back no more and told them how I had let Daddy (I actually slipped and referred to him as “Daddy” before correcting myself and using his name) take control over my finances and all my electronic and media presence outside work, effectively making me utterly dependent on Daddy. My referral to him as “Daddy” did not go unnoticed, but the women only exchanged a knowing look rather than comment on it. That I had given up control completely to Daddy did, however, not cause anything near the reaction I had anticipated. I had expected a strong reaction to this from these highly independent women, but instead it was limited to my boss Karen stroking me affectionately on the arm and saying: “Good for you Jeremy” while Victoria smiled sweetly and said: “Often it’s the caged bird that has the brightest feathers and sings the loudest honey. You’re a lucky boi Jeremy”: Again with that emphasis.

I was completely baffled by their response, but also quite pleased that they approved and apparently thought it good for me as well. When I mentioned it to Daddy that night he simply commented that these women apparently knew what was good for me as well; perhaps being good judges of character.

Being dependent on Daddy keeps getting better for me all the time, even if it is a little hard to get used to. I no longer post anything on any of the social media I have accounts with, as Daddy doesn’t think I should. I tried getting him to do it, but he rebuffed me kindly and firmly. The spanking wasn’t bad and was actually a very loving affair. Crying out in Daddy’s arms has become somewhat of an addiction for me. It’s not only very intimate, but also extremely cathartic. I feel cleansed by it and whatever I worried about before the spanking is gone afterwards as Daddy has established it beyond a shadow of a doubt as being completely outside my control. It settles things for me; wraps it up.

So too it was with me communicating over social media and after a mere week of only reading other peoples’ posts, I quietly asked Daddy if he thought that maybe limiting my online presence to just having an e-mail wasn’t a good idea. I had actually expected him to agree enthusiastically as it would surely constitute even tighter control with me, focusing me even more on just him. Surprisingly he said that he thought it might be a good idea, but that he also thought we should wait and see. Maybe it would be needed and maybe my interest in it would be rekindled. Again he proved to me that he has my back; that he cares for me and will make every effort to do what’s best for me.

I actually felt a little bad that I had expected him to want to take advantage of me. Furthermore it had been nearly two months since I came last and I needed not only of a fuck, but also of his firm hand. So for the first time I asked Daddy to spank me; begged him in fact. I told him how bad I felt for mistrusting his motives and how I really needed his special touch, his palm telling me what to do.

Daddy’s response was even better than I had hoped for. First he smiled and told me that mistrusting him was a very bad thing, the smile present in his voice as well while he said it. Secondly he told me that he was very, very pleased that I told him; that my obedience and conscientious behavior marked me as a very good boi. I was so proud and so pleased. When he then went on and told me that I should simply accept that he made all decisions and that I should let him do all the thinking and not worry about anything at all, I got all warm at his care for me.

I cried endlessly as he spanked so very hard, writhing to get free, yet loving his control and the hard blows hitting my ass. Held in his strong arms I sobbed my worries out afterwards and as he made the night perfect and entered me, I wrapped my long legs around him and cried that I loved him, meaning every word.

Two weeks after that night, a month after giving up my economic and electronic independence, Daddy has made me go further still. Deep down I think I knew this was coming, but still it was quite a shock when he told and it is a step that moves me from “merely” being utterly dependent on him, to him having near absolute control over me. Daddy has made me quit my job and become his stay at home boi. I cried when he said that I would be quitting my job – he didn’t ask or put it as a suggestion – but I didn’t object. The spanking I received that night was hard, but not exceptionally so and he only needed to do it once. I am past the days when I needed “convincing”. Nowadays I’m a good boi and do as Daddy says and the spankings are only to make it clear in my mind that I have no choice or when I feel I need Daddy’s hand on my ass, reaffirming his dominance and control over me. Often I am the one begging for a spanking rather than Daddy forcing me to accept it.

This time I wasn’t surprised at the reaction of my coworkers, who all thought it was the very best thing that could happen to me, but I was a little surprised at how fast it all went. No more than two days after handing in my notice I had my last day at work. All had kind words for me and warm hugs and kisses and not only Victoria and Karen told me privately how they thought that this was the most natural role in the world for me; that they had, after I had met Daddy, found out that I was probably the type of guy who would thrive staying at home, that the role of a kept boi (they all used that word)  was clearly good for me. I must admit to being a shocked at the speed and expedience, but by four in the afternoon I stood on the sidewalk, clutching a small box of my belongings and a large bouquet of flowers. There had been no sweets or candy as all of them confided in me that they knew I was on a diet; which was also a little spooky.

Daddy could see that I was unhappy with the situation, shocked and a little sad, so he drove us straight home, made me undress and proceeded to give me a very, very sound spanking and only then, as I cried my eyes out in his powerful embrace, did I finally come to terms with what I was now and was able to put it behind me. As he fucked me afterwards and I clung on to him, I had very nearly forgotten the cage on my cock. I realized this only as he pulled out as I had simply been focused on his pleasure alone and on the supremely pleasant feeling of him inside me.

As we ate dinner that night, me naked with a pillow for my sore ass, I told Daddy this, feeling both very proud and very vulnerable. He praised me for being such a good boi but he also said that while this was clearly a big and very good step for me, the goal, my goal, had to be to focus exclusively on his pleasure and his alone. My pleasure, he explained softly, would come from pleasing him. He had of course said things along these lines before, but never before emphasized that I should forego my own. As I timidly raised this point, he smiled broadly, not at all angry: “Dear boi, lovely boi”, he said, “Isn’t it already so that you take the greatest of pleasure, the greatest of pride and joy, in pleasing me? That you feel deeply happy when I praise you or you see me pleased?” Feeling all warm and fuzzy I replied that this was indeed so. “Of course sweet boi, of course”, he beamed. “Then just think how good it will be for you when you have learned to do this fully and completely, when my pleasure is your pleasure and your only pleasure. Just think how that kind of focus and commitment will amplify that pleasure and happiness for you. You’ll be an even happier boi then than you are now and I promise you that you will get there. My aim is to make you the happiest boi in the whole world”. I broke down by then, crying with happiness and my teary blowjob for Daddy that evening was me putting all of my energy into making Daddy understand how much I loved him.

As usual he didn’t want me to get him off with the blowjob, but rather saved his steam for later. Being very eager to please and more than a little horny at the same time – my cage was actually slimy with precum – I told Daddy that I loved him so much and I had to admit to being so very horny for myself. Then, rushing to speak before him, I asked him for a spanking so that these thoughts might be removed from my boi mind. To say that he replied enthusiastically is an understatement and I actually screamed before he stopped and the cathartic sobbing in his arms expunged the potential ill effects of my now complete dependence on Daddy from my mind.

I had a very sore ass the next morning as I kissed Daddy goodbye and watched him close the door, leaving me to my first day as a kept boi.

Becoming the stay at home house boi wasn’t nearly as hard as I had imagined. Sure, the first few days were a little dizzying when I thought about my situation, but I soon realized that I had been growing out of my job, and into this role really, ever since I met Daddy. And being there to greet him, being there for him, when he came home and seeing how pleased he was to see me there, made me more and more happy, more and more determined to take his directions; to listen very carefully when he told me what to do and be very conscientious in carrying out his orders.

I was still permanently horny, having passed the three months without an orgasm mark, but by now my response to it had changed. The horniness had the same effect on my physically, but mentally I craved release less and less and now often found that I didn’t even think about cuming while Daddy made love to me. Rather I had now learned to have my “little anal shivers” as Daddy calls them so that they coincide with his orgasm. I was becoming so in tune with his needs that I could proudly say that I was approaching the point where his pleasure really was my pleasure as well.

As I settled more and more into my role, so did my world shrink as well. Daddy took me out less and less, preferring to stay at home with me. He had also arranged, over my objections of course, for the groceries to be delivered so that I didn’t have to go shopping. I was actually sad since it meant that I wouldn’t be going out as much, but a couple of sound spankings settled that as usual. I now ventured out much less than before, staying home more than five days out of seven. It was a little isolated, but it also had some advantages. For one it made me appreciate Daddy’s presence even more. I found myself running to greet him at the door, helping him with his gear and kissing and fondling him eagerly as he came home. Daddy for his part obviously liked this and often slapped my slender ass right away, sending me to the bedroom for a quick fuck. Secondly, the time that Daddy did spend me was now all quality time. He never had his attention elsewhere, but spent all his time with me and on me, teaching me how to do the things that needs to be done and doing them right, doing them how he likes it. This extended far beyond the bedroom, involving cleaning and cooking and how to dress and hold my body in different situations. Were it not for the immense warmth I felt as he trained me I would be worried. He was changing nearly everything about me, but I loved it, loved what it does both to me and for me.

Chapter 4: Breaking

After being Daddy’s stay at home boi for a month, things again changed and dramatically so. It started one evening with Daddy asking me about my blowjobs; how I liked them and how I thought I was doing. I replied that I absolutely loved giving him head; loved the chance to focus so entirely on him and his beautiful cock. Daddy smiled broadly and then said: “Good boi. I knew you loved it. That is why I will help you become even better and even more devoted as a good little cocksucking boi”. Thinking that this meant that he would somehow step up my training I sat with rapt attention as he continued: “Tomorrow I have made a dentist appointment for you boi”. The remark made no sense to me at all and he saw this: “To help you become my perfect little cocksucker you will have all of your teeth removed tomorrow”. ´For the first few seconds I couldn’t comprehend what he had just told me. Remove all of my teeth to improve my blowjob technique? But that was insane! I stated to object: “But…but…but, Daddy! You…I..it’s…please don’t Daddy! I don’t want to lose my teeth! Please Daddy!”

For the first time in our relationship I not only objected, but fought him. This was too much and I had to get out and that at once. After composing myself I finally said it out loud: “This is too much…Daddy. I can’t agree to that. I’m sorry, but it ends here. I want out…Tom”. Daddy’s hand connected with the side of my face with such speed and force that I didn’t even see it coming. I was thrown out of the couch and on to the floor and in a flash he was over me. “You will do exactly as I say boi!”. He spoke in low, but intense and menacing tones and while I was paralyzed with fear he ripped my clothes off and placed me over his knee. For the first time the spanking was truly coercion, a breaking of my will. “You are MY boi and you do as I say!” Daddy said as the blows rained down on my increasingly raw and red ass. Soon my desperate crying turned to screaming and when it was finally over and he held me afterwards I sobbed endlessly as he told me to be a good boi and accept it, to realize that it was right for me and that he would decide for me, that he knew best and that he would make sure I was always happy.

Against my will I found myself responding to his words and caresses. I had come to love spankings followed by cuddling, had in fact been conditioned to this, and come to love it so much that I responded almost involuntarily; feeling a budding acceptance of the insane and extreme.

After a long while he whispered these things to me as he kissed my face and my lips, his strong hands not only holding me, but stroking me. I felt I had to hate it, but in truth I loved it just as much as I always had. Ever so gently he carried me to bed and there he continued his soft and loving, but also completely inhuman pressure on me, forcing me to accept that which should never be accepted. He told me how having me teeth removed would make me a much better cocksucker while he spread my legs, kissing me deeply. As his tongue travelled down my defenseless body and I moaned with desire and defeat, Daddy told me how it was much better for me to stop thinking about it and accept it because he wanted it that way. As he slid home I arched my back and began performing my very best, not only from routine but from real desire, and heard him tell me how I should give in and accept that he decided everything and that he would make sure that I was always happy. This might seem like a big step, but he promised me that in a few short weeks I would be a happy and carefree boi again and realize that this was all for the best. I hated admitting it, but that fuck, that utter defeat, was amazing and as close to a real orgasm as I had been in months.

As I lay there in Daddy’s strong arms as he fell asleep, I realized that there was of course nothing I could do. I could only hope that Daddy would be right when he said that I would get my teeth removed and get a nice set of dentures and end up becoming the happiest little cocksucker in the whole world. My insides felt like water and I wanted to run, but was unable to do so. I didn’t sleep at all but even as I could hear him sleep soundly I found myself unable to make a run for it; a mental defeat that resulted in me sobbing most of the night away.

Morning routine was the same, dictated by Daddy, even if I did fumble considerably more than usual. At breakfast I tried broaching the subject, tried to talk about it, but Daddy put it to rest once and for all: “There will be no discussion boi. Your teeth will be removed tonight. I will pick you up right after work”. I began crying again and tried babbling for him to please not do it, but he ignored me as he went on: “You must realize that I want you boi, that you are my little love boi, my cherished and adored pet and that I can’t stand the idea of you getting hurt”. This actually made me feel good in a nasty sort of way; a sensation that certainly wasn’t improved by his next words: “As a result I have decided to focus you even more on our relation and that alone. I have taken your phone away, cancelling the subscription and I have also closed your mail account as well as all of those inactive online time wasters”. Sitting in stunned silence I knew for certain that a corner had been turned and that I was now more Daddy’s prisoner than anything else. Sobbing I managed to stammer this out to Daddy: “Please Daddy. I…I…can’t…it’s not…it’s as if you’re going to lock me up…keep my prisoner! Please Daddy!...I can’t do this…I won’t. It’s not fair”. I stopped myself, expecting him to explode as he did the night before. Instead he reached across the table and gently stroked my cheek. He took my hand and made me come over and sit on his lap. “Sweet boi”, he started, “I know this is all so overwhelming right now, but in time, soon, you’ll realize that this is all for the best; that this in the end will make you happier and more content as my boi”. I couldn’t even answer him properly but simply blubbered through tears. He hugged me tightly and kissed me all over my face, assuring me that it would be fine; better than ever and that he only wanted my happiness. After a while I accepted his comforting and found solace in resting my head on his shoulder as he stroked me and kissed me, soothing me. I was deeply afraid of him, but I also found that I loved him in spite of it. He was domineering and uncompromising and had for all intents and purposes declared that he would hold me against my will, but he was also still the same gentle and caring man I fell in love with and I still felt a profound desire to please him. Maybe losing my teeth wouldn’t be such a big deal I thought; maybe I would get used to it or even love it; just as Daddy had said.

When I kissed Daddy goodbye as he left for work, I found that I was not at all surprised that he had made a change to the locks on the door, so that I now couldn’t leave without him opening it. When he has left I slid down the door, sobbing. I was now truly his prisoner and for the first time the term “slave” popped into my mind. Does he see me as his slave I wondered?

I was unable to do anything sensible all day. I couldn’t work, I couldn’t eat and TV did nothing for me. Daddy had not only taken my phone and closed all my online accounts it seemed, but also put a password on the computer, so that it was now off limits to me. Like with the locked door I found that I was not really surprised, but distantly registered it as one more defeat, one more thing that made me more dependent on Daddy.

When Daddy came home he found me naked on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. I hadn’t moved in hours, hadn’t even dressed, but at least my tears had dried up. Again he was so very gentle with me, hugging me, kissing me and comforting me as he patiently dressed me. He stood us together in front of the mirror and although I am full five inches taller than him, I seemed much smaller. Daddy was dressed in one of his usual sharp, black business suits, everything perfect and crisp, his muscular physique clearly but subtly displayed. I wore tight, light blue cut off jeans a very tight yellow T-shirt and white ankle socks sticking out of my purple trainers. I was perfectly tanned, very slim, some might say thin even, and on my left wrist was Daddy’s gold chain with a little gold heart dangling from it. I looked weak and effeminate and next to Daddy obviously his property. My red eyes did not make me look any stronger. I had no resistance left I found – again – when I looked at my reflection.

I meekly followed him to the car and sat docilely next to him as he drove me to the dentist. Right before we were about to enter I had a small panic attack and started crying, but Daddy’s strong arms carried me through the door and through the empty reception area. Apart from the dentist and his assistant we were alone in the clinic and I could hear the door being locked behind us as I was guided to the chair. Here I again couldn’t stop crying, but Daddy’s presence perversely was of enormous comfort. I should have despised him for making me do it, for taking this from me, but instead I found myself needing and loving his comforting presence. The man pushed all my buttons and for the first time I realized that I was addicted to him.

The thought was not comforting as such, but it did settle things for me in a strange way. I should probably have taken it as one more sign that I should try to run away, but instead it felt like the notion absolved me of responsibility for my own actions; for my life. It felt like a natural affirmation that Daddy – my drug as it were – should control it all and that I should just slip into the waters and let the current take me.

Still I couldn’t help reacting. The dentist was a small dapper man about Daddy’s age and his assistant was a slender young man a few years older than me. The younger man was obviously subservient to the dentist and when I wouldn’t stop crying, the dentist turned to his assistant and said: “Show him Sean. Show him and tell him”. The young man bowed his head in acknowledgement and then reached into his mouth and pulled his dentures out, showing me his smooth mouth. This shocked me into silence and when he had slipped them back in he said: “Don’t be scared. I know it seems like a big deal now, but it really isn’t. I was scared when my Daddy made me lose them too, but I quickly learned just how good giving head is without your teeth and with the dentures you’ll get, no one will know and none of the foods you’ll eat will be a problem. You’ll see; it’ll be fine”. Then he kissed his Daddy’s, the dentist’s, hand with utter devotion and went back to work. I turned to Daddy with wide eyes: “It will be fine boi. I only want what is best for you. Do this for me boi”. Gaping with astonishment I opened wide and the dentist began.

The extraction happened to someone else, miles away. There was no pain, not even a sense of discomfort. Daddy held my hand and although my eyes at times found the assistant’s, I mostly looked at Daddy, held his hand and listened to his words of comfort, soothing me. Every tooth removed was like something that was put behind me, moving me closer and closer to acceptance.

Daddy’s beaming praise afterwards as we said our goodbyes to the dentist did little to help me get through it, but holding my hand as I sat in the car did comfort me somewhat. The overpowering sensation on the drive home, though, was an acute sense of disconnect, of not belong in the world we drove through anymore. Were any of the people I saw out there toothless cocksuckers, made that way by older men whom they loved? Could any of them understand how utterly dependent on Daddy I now was? Would any of them accept me anymore, being what I had now become? Could I even fit in anymore?

The very thought seemed outlandish to me and moved me closer still to Daddy. At least he would understand and love me. With him I would find care and affection, protection and an existence free of most worldly concerns. As he led me into the apartment I thought of how many people would envy my carefree existence and how I was probably being ungrateful, despite the fact that I felt like Daddy had violated me to an unheard of degree. I was split down the middle, wanting to scream, cry and run away on one hand and run to Daddy on the other hand, thanking him and begging him never to leave me.

I was exhausted, completely spent, and yet I couldn’t find any rest as the sensation of now having a smooth mouth towered in my mind; unable to come to terms with it. I wanted to hate Daddy but he was so very gentle and loving, so happy that I had had my teeth removed for him (as he put it) and he showered me with affection. He also knew just what I needed. Constantly telling me how much he loved me and how good a boi I was, kissing and caressing me, confused and defeated as I was, he gently undressed me and lifted me up as if I weighed nothing. I remember looking at him with wondering eyes, feeling somehow like it was the first time he took me to bed. Of course he did not take the cage off and let me cum, but he was so very, very gentle with me and when he finally entered me, my body felt like it was on fire. I wanted him so badly and actually begged him to fuck me. When he did, he took his time and then some. I found again that by moving the way he had taught me, trained me, made everything better for him and me as well. He milked my prostate dry that evening as I writhed and twisted at the end of his cock, telling him I loved him, screaming it, and begging him to never leave me.

Afterwards he held my shaking body as I sobbed myself into a dreamless sleep, my mind accepting my status as an owned boi. And found that I did love him for it – even if I have never understood how that was. Nonetheless I did. And I do.

Over the next three weeks I not only came to terms with being Daddy’s toothless cock sucking boi, but also learned to love it in a strange and somewhat hateful way.

It came in three stages: the first he had already begun and continued throughout and that was his enormous appreciation of what I had endured for him, even if I hadn’t done so voluntarily. I was constantly praised and shown every sign of real affection Daddy could muster. The second began, and indeed reached it’s apex, already the next night as I performed my first toothless blowjob. The dentist’s assistant, and of course Daddy, had been right: blowing him without teeth was just fantastic; sensuous like nothing I had tried before – or rather like nothing I had tried with my mouth before. The third stage was small compared to the other two, but important nonetheless. After five days my dentures arrived and just as I had been promised they were very good. With them in my mouth I found that much of the self-consciousness I had had about my mouth disappeared and as I could now speak as I had been able to before without even the slightest lisp I regained some, but not all, of what I had been before.

I found that I loved Daddy just as much as I had before, but something had changed dramatically, not only with our relationship and my life, but with who I was and how I behaved. The changes which concerned Daddy were on the face of it simple: I loved him but was now also somewhat afraid of him. Not that I cowered around him or cringed when he lifted his hand. No, perversely I felt perfectly safe with him; as safe as I had always felt. Although the term had popped into my head once or twice, I did not feel like a slave or even a pet. I felt like a kept, cared for lover, protected with extreme measures. But his actions had rendered me incompetent, given him far more control over my life than I had myself and the feeling was deeply frightening. I found that I had lost almost all of my ability to argue against even the slightest things and agreeing readily with everything Daddy said, always smiling eagerly to get his approval. Pulling my teeth had domesticated me to an unheard of degree.

This domestication also affected my sense of independence; the independence I had inside me, the independence of my mind. Of course Daddy had for the past months taken over more and more of the decisions made in our relationship, I had still retained an opinion of my own even if I hadn’t been allowed to express it. Often it was the same as Daddy’s, but it was still my own. Now I found that I often didn’t have one, couldn’t formulate one in my mind, but needed Daddy to make the decisions. The sensation was scary but also strangely fitting, even comforting. It was one less thing to worry about.

And the blowjobs just kept getting better – for Daddy too. I absolutely loved the sensation of his hard tool sliding in my smooth sheath. He also stepped up my deep throat training, something I had only done a little of before. I hated the choking at first, but there was no denying Daddy’s obvious pleasure in it and the way he filled my throat up soon made me love it. There was certainly no way around the obvious submissive element in it.

The dentist’s boi had said that I would have no problems with any of the foods I would be eating and he was certainly right about that; only not in the way I had imagined. Before having my teeth pulled I had eaten a smoothie for breakfast and salads or soup and a little bread and fruit for the other meals. That changed too. Now all I was allowed to eat were smoothies or soup. Endless variations and all very good, but having to eat all your meals through a straw or with a spoon, which happened rarely as Daddy loved seeing me suck on a straw, got not only repetitive, but also very humiliating, a clear emphasis of my status. Not that I don’t think the dentures couldn’t have managed other foods and real chewing, but it was decided that this was what I would eat. I shed a little tear, but meekly accepted Daddy’s decision, almost completely past the point where I even had an opinion of my own.

Mostly though I was a happy boi. Daddy’s affection for me seemed endless and I had now been trained to his complete satisfaction with regards to skill, not only sexual skills but also cleaning and cooking. For my part I found myself being able to enjoy my decision and influence free life, a life without worries as well, more and more. I loved being there for Daddy, being his perfect boi as well as doing all the housework. I didn’t really miss being in touch with anyone that much, but I did still have a lot of hours spent worrying about the fact that I was now Daddy’s prisoner as well as his pampered pet. The potential coercion, now always an unspoken factor in my life, cast a shadow over my supposedly carefree life. I told myself that I still felt perfectly safe around Daddy, and I really did feel safe in his arms, and yet I was now also wary of his power, his absolute power over me, having seen it displayed when he took my teeth.

Being fully trained I had of course learned to take all my pleasure from Daddy’s pleasure and as such my own physical needs should mean less. However, being fully trained and having heard Daddy tell me this on several occasions, I also began expecting the removal of my chastity cage and thus also the end of my sexual abstinence. My horniness increased until I could take it no more and finally one night in bed I gathered up my courage to ask Daddy: “Please Daddy”, I started out very timidly, “now that I’m fully trained and have been your good boi for such a long time, when can I have my little cock released? I am just so horny Daddy and it has been more than four months since it was out of the cage Daddy. Please Daddy?” My plea was muted but insistent and Daddy’s smile warm and inviting as he heard me out patiently.

“Sweet boi”, he whispered warmly and intimately, his face inches from mine, “very soon your little cock will be free of it’s cage and that cage will never go on again boi”. I could hardly contain myself and showered him with kisses as I thanked him and told him how much I loved him. A soft but firm hand on my shoulder pushed me a little out and held me there as he waited for me to settle down before he went on: “The day after tomorrow the cage comes off for the last time”, he stopped my words with a finger to my lips, “I have made an appointment with the doctor and there I will remove the cage and hold your hand as you are castrated, so you can become a truly happy boi, concentrated fully on pleasing me just as I know you want to”.

I felt like all the air had just been removed from the room. I wanted to scream, but was paralyzed with terror. Daddy wanted to castrate me! He wanted to remove my balls so that I could never cum again. He wanted to take my manhood and turn me into eunuch. I wanted to scream, tried to scream, but in the end all that came out was a pathetic keening. After many false starts where all I managed to produce was incoherent blubbering, I began pleading and begging to be allowed to keep my balls. Daddy simply smiled and stroked my cheeks, wiping my tears away, as he explained that this was the very best thing that could happen to me. How I would be much happier without my balls, how I would be free of the nagging horniness and free to concentrate fully on getting my pleasure the way I loved, namely by pleasing him. He also told me that I would adore my looks after having my balls removed, how I would come to love looking at my small and limp cock hanging down in an attractively smooth crotch.

When he said that I finally did scream. Scream with fright, outright terror, but also with impotence, the sure knowledge as I lay there that no matter what I did, Daddy would have his way, that all my objections would be swept aside and that in two days time he would have my balls cut off against my will; just because it pleased him.

Of course Daddy spanked me hard and of course he held me tight, being as gentle and loving, if completely unyielding, as he ever was and of course I cried and cried before he made deeply passionate love to me, telling me how much he wanted me happy as I again found myself completely unable to resist his advances. But really it had been settled long before that. My resistance was token at best, the real fight having been taken out of me along with my teeth.

As I spent the next two days begging and crying to no avail, I realized that while I had been almost completely domesticated before, the castration would in all likelihood remove even my last, tiny bit of free will and as I realized this fully, I also realized that I didn’t know what scared me more: the emasculation itself or the complete mental subjugation sure to follow.

But not even this deeply frightening prospect made any difference when it came to my resistance to Daddy. I may have cried and begged, but I had lost from the onset and we both knew it. I even had real trouble becoming mad at or even frightened of Daddy. His iron will was veiled in deep affection for me, carefully and patiently explaining to me how being castrated was the best thing that could happen to me, how I was ideal for castration, made for it really. He held me tightly as I cried and told me I would become even more passive and docile and so have a much easier time yielding to his will and thus being more free to enjoy me complete lack of responsibilities; how I was privileged would be even more so when I was rid of my own desires and left with only my deep and profound desire to please him.

It was sick, terrifying and overpoweringly warm and kind and again I found myself loving him in spite of myself; loving the man who wanted me mutilated. He wanted me neutered, emasculated, and yet I needed his touch and his comfort, craved his touch and became deeply unhappy when he was not around.

On the morning of my castration Daddy carefully washed me and dried my body off, as I was completely passive; paralyzed as it were. He didn’t make any breakfast for me, just as I hadn’t been served any dinner the night before, as precaution in case I needed anything more than a local anesthetic. Not that I had any appetite at all. By now I was crying silently and constantly, but completely unable to fend for myself, to resist Daddy in any way. He dressed me in purple sneakers, white ankle socks, purple hot pants and a tight, purple T-shirt. Had I not looked so utterly devastated and out of my mind with paralyzing fear I am sure I would have seen how attractive I looked in the mirror when Daddy showed it to me. As it were my mirror image, the chastity cage clearly visible, just made me sob harder.

On the drive to the clinic I felt an intense need to escape, to just open the car door and jump out. I was just about to try it when it hit me: What would I do out there? Who would want me out there anymore? How would I even get by now, domesticated as I was? The realization that I had nowhere to go now, but had to accept Daddy’s insane plan for me just made me cry harder.

Daddy’s doctor was a woman and her nurse for the procedure was her slightly evil looking nurse from the front desk; the one who gave me the penetrating look accompanied by the condescending tone. Although it was a weekday the clinic had a sign on the door saying: “Open only by special appointment” and when we entered the two women were kissing passionately. I found the sight jarring in the context and when the doctor turned to Daddy and said: “Tom, darling! So good to see you. We have been looking forward to this so much”, while cupping her partner’s ass, I felt a strong urge to scream and run. Daddy sensed my unease and spoke with a tone of slight recrimination: “Come now Gretchen darling. I’m glad to see you too, but can’t you see my poor boi is a little upset? You’re scaring him darling”.

A high, peeling laughter, creepily synchronized, escaped the two ladies who then disengaged as they both hugged Daddy as a greeting and then surrounded me: “But he’s such a good boi, isn’t he Ilse?” the doctor cooed to her assistant as she gently but firmly grabbed my left arm, speaking right past my face to her lover. “Yes he is Gretchen, such a good boi, such an obedient boi who realizes that getting neutered for Daddy is the only right thing, should not be afraid, should he Gretchen?” As she took my right arm in an equally firm grip, the doctor cooed in response: “No Ilse, such a boi should be proud and above all happy that his little nuts and sack will soon be gone and his little cock will go all nice and limp. Such a good boi!” she intoned and pinched my cheek quite hard. At this I could take no more and broke down sobbing.

“Gretchen! Ilse! Ladies!”, Daddy’s stern voice snapped the cruel ladies away from me. “Come now, can’t you see that you’re upsetting the sweet boi?” As Daddy’s arms wrapped themselves around me I buried my face in the crook of his neck, crying hopelessly. “Go and get ready now and I’ll talk to him, get him ready too. Shoo now!” As they retreated, giggling, Daddy calmed me down and explained that they might be a little coarse as he called it, but despite the fact that they loved castrating little bois like me way too much, they were very, very good at what they did; the best there were in fact and that once I had healed I would be amazed at how smooth my crotch would be. It would look like I had never even had balls in the first place.

This made me break down again and it was only after a long time that Daddy managed to calm me down to merely sobbing softly. He was so gentle and caring and again I couldn’t understand my own feelings. He was having me castrated, something I desperately did not want to happen, and yet I couldn’t help but love him and respond to his assurances that I would be so much better off without my balls, that I would love being his little neutered boi, that he would love me even more. In the end he calmed me down enough to undress me – I was still effectively paralyzed – and then he grabbed my shoulders and led me into the operating room. It was just another examination room in the clinic, with what looked like a gynecological examination chair standing in the spotlight. When I saw it, flanked by the women who would remove my balls, I couldn’t move another inch, frozen with fear. Distantly I felt how Daddy picked me up, telling me everything would be alright, and placing me in the chair. He helped me spread my legs wide and placed them in the stirrups as I tried to plead with him, at first just producing wordless blubbering. Physical resistance was completely gone from me; my body paralyzed it seemed.

Then finally I managed in the tiniest of quavering voice to beg one final time: “Please Daddy. Can we please stop Daddy? I don’t want to be cas…cast…c…castrated. Please Daddy. I’ll be your good boi forever, but please don’t do this. Please let me keep them…” I tried to go on but Daddy bent down and kissed me, putting a finger across my lips as he pulled away: “Shush baby. It’ll be over soon and I promise you you’ll be happy. I’ll make sure you become the happiest and most carefree boi of all and this is just a step on the way to that. Now calm down and be quiet and let the nice ladies do their job”. He then took my hand, stroking it, and nodded for the women to begin.

Taking the key from Daddy the nurse removed my cage for the first time in over four months. Somehow I had always expected my cock to get rock hard the second it was released, but instead it was utterly limp. I was petrified with terror at what was being done and completely unable to do anything about it and so my cock reflected myself: it was deflated, limp, useless. A preview of the way it would be from now on. The nurse gingerly, as if she found it disgusting somehow, took it between thumb and forefinger and laid it on my abdomen and then taped it down, so it wouldn’t flop down and disturb the work. I wanted to scream but all I managed was to gape in horror as I keened a little with fright, my impotent keening soon petering out and coming to nothing.

The only thing that hurt was the anesthetic injection they gave me. Otherwise I felt no pain. But Daddy insisted I watch the whole thing. He even made sure there was a mirror so I could see properly. As the doctor took my left nut and cut a small slit in the skin of the sack before popping it carefully out through the hole, I involuntarily began keening. “Are you sure you don’t want him sedated Tom?” she asked, “so he doesn’t have to watch it as well? It seems to upset him quite a bit”. Daddy stroked my hand and replied: “Yes Gretchen, you know how it is: It may seem cruel to insist that he watch his own emasculation, but the fact is that it helps the process immensely; helps him accept it fully, helps him move on and become the sweet little neutered boi I want him to be”. A tiny voice in the back of my mind asked why I had to watch, why Daddy didn’t simply see this for the torture it was? And what process was he talking about? What process required that I be forced to watch my own involuntary castration?

After popping out one testicle the doctor carefully cut through the membranes surrounding it, until she could grab hold of the testicle itself with the medical version of a set of pliers I suppose. Then she pulled the testicle out, revealing the surprisingly long chord it was attached to. When she could pull it no longer it was nearly six inches away from my mangled scrotum. I wanted to scream but no sound came. My mouth was open as I watched, but I could not scream. Distantly I heard how Daddy spoke in calm and soothing but also discretely excited tones of what a good boi I was and how this so very brave of me and how it would soon be over. As the doctor held the testicle the nurse tied a piece of string, suture I suppose, several time around the chord, tightly. After she had trimmed the excess suture away the doctor took a pair of scissors and, looking straight at me with a big smile, she cut my left testicle off: “One down; one to go”, she smiled  as the chord snapped back inside me with surprising force; leaving me to helplessly shake my head with terror.

As she prepared the next cut Daddy stopped my head shaking: “You must watch boi, you must” and turned my face so that I looked straight at my crotch again. The doctor repeated the procedure from before: first she cut the sack, then she popped the testicle out and cut through all the membranes before popping it all the way out and grabbing with her surgical pliers. Then she pulled it as far out as it would go, let the nurse tie the chord off before cutting the testicle off and letting the chord snap back inside: “Such a good boi you are!” she exclaimed enthusiastically, “You’ll now be Daddy’s own little soft boi. I guarantee that this is what is best for you boi. I guarantee it”. As I sobbed I heard her say how all that remained now was to trim the sack away and make sure I would have the best looking, smoothest crotch out there, how soon it would be as if I had never even had any balls.

Mercifully Daddy didn’t make me watch that. Instead he focused on consoling me, kissing and caressing my face and telling me what a good boi I was and how pleased he was. I felt them working distantly, but felt no pain. I needed Daddy then worse than I had ever needed him and he responded. He was the rock I needed, the straw I grasped for and although he was the one who had it done to me, forced me to be there and be violated like that, I again felt no fear or hate towards him. I only felt gratitude that he was there, being so kind to me. I loved Daddy even then.

As the women finished the doctor asked Daddy: “As you know he will still have a lot of testosterone flowing around his hot little boi body for the next few weeks. This means that he will be able to get hard and get off. I assume you want that stopped, right?”. I opened my mouth to beg to at least be able to cum in the time there was still left, before I became an impotent eunuch, but Daddy beat me to it: “Yes of course. It’s much better for the boi to be soft at once. That way he doesn’t get worked up about still having the ability and when cuming is a distant memory for him as it is now, it’s easier for him to accept that he will not be able to cum with his little cock ever again; that he can only achieve satisfaction by pleasing me”. As I began crying inconsolably at this my final chance being denied me, the doctor happily agreed and said that she would give me a booster shot of testosterone blockers at once. That way I would remain completely soft and as long as Daddy gave me the pills she prescribed for the next three weeks, I would never again get even remotely hard.

I felt the prick of the needle in my thigh but little else. I was devastated and couldn’t stop crying as Daddy gently dressed me and picked me up. I heard how he was offered a wheelchair and how he rejected it, telling them how I needed to be held and comforted. I knew I should hate him, but couldn’t. I loved him as he lifted me up and clung to his neck, crying on his shoulder all the way to the car. The short time between him closing my door and him entering his own nearly had me panicking and I held on to his hand the whole way home.

I was ready to collapse as Daddy undressed me. I was eternally grateful that he didn’t make me look at my own reflection as I had halfway come to expect. Instead he held my limp member as I emptied my bladder, my tears now drying as I looked at him with wonder and fearful love. Then he placed my hands in soft, white cotton mittens that rendered my fingers useless. To the wrist of the mittens a soft cotton strap was secured. This strap he tied around my upper arms so that I now had to hold my mittened hands near my shoulders. I looked at him, completely uncomprehending, and he explained that in my distraught state he was afraid I would involuntarily try to remove the bandage and hurt myself in the process, so until I had healed sufficiently he would take care of my every need.

I stood stupefied and was further shocked as he reached into my mouth and took out my dentures. He had now emasculated me in every possible way and all I wanted to do was cry. But of course Daddy wanted it differently. He took my face in his hands and kissed me deeply and passionately, drawing the kiss out. I eagerly took everything he gave, desperately needing the attention, the affection. He stopped to tell me how I was a good boi and how he loved me. I couldn’t help but tearfully respond that I loved him too, meaning every word in spite what he had done to me, lisping my love out toothlessly, humiliated and defeated. Then he told me that he would make it all easier for me by letting me do what must surely be what pleased me most: pleasing him. As he said it he pressed down on my shoulders, making me kneel, my face at crotch height.

“Take me in your mouth and feel how soothing blowing me is, how much you love it”, he said as I looked at his crotch with something like wonder and fear; looked at it in a way I had never looked at it before. Surely he couldn’t be serious? Making me blow him now, right after my castration, when I was so low. Although the mittens on my hands were there to prevent me from hurting myself and didn’t really feel like I was tied up, the effect was nonetheless very similar. My dentures out as well I was completely helpless and looking up, my eyes brimming over with tears, I opened my mouth in defeat. The sensation of Daddy’s member sliding in to my mouth felt like a violation at first, but when the head was all the way in I automatically started sucking and then a strange thing happened. First Daddy told me what a good boi I was and then he asked: “Doesn’t it feel good to suck me boi? Doesn’t it feel comforting? Like a calming pacifier for a sweet boi?” In spite of myself I had to agree.

The more I sucked, the better I felt. Pouring myself into sucking everything suddenly felt better, like I was doing the right thing. Seeing Daddy’s pleasure in me and my actions made me feel my own kind of pleasure; my only kind. With a pang of pain straight to my soul I noticed how I could no longer feel my cock straining and began crying again as I realized that I would never get an erection again, but Daddy’s words brought me back and soon I had banished the thoughts and was able to concentrate fully on the wonderful blowjob. His load was bigger than usual and there was no mistaking the fact that Daddy was obviously more excited than usual, grunting and thrusting deeper than usual as he deposited his load. For my part I felt good, felt that Daddy’s hot semen somehow calmed me down and that the act of blowing him was soothing, calming, and for a short second I was incredibly able to forget what had been done to me.

Daddy picked me up, again praising and comforting me, kissing me deeply before putting my dentures back in and then he placed me on the couch and sat down next to me. I was naked except for my mittens and the bandage in my crotch, of which I could actually see very little. I felt tears brimming my eyes as I looked at my cock, now forever limp, and looked up to Daddy who had sat down next to me. He stroked my cheek and took my little cock ever so gently in his hand, holding it up for me to see, his thumb softly stroking the upper side of it. The sensation was very nice but did not result in even the slightest erection. “Look at it boi”, he said so softly it was almost a whisper, “See how beautiful it is now, how much more natural it is for you”. I looked down and cried a little at what I saw but he continued: “You were never meant to have nasty hard-ons boi; never you. You were meant to be beautiful and ever so soft and now look at how wonderfully soft you are now. No cage to hide your little, limp boi cock, no fake man erections to spoil the image of the perfect soft boi. I absolutely love it boi and I know you will come to love it too; just you wait and see”.

He was so happy for my castration, so genuinely enthusiastic and I felt how, despite my overpowering sense of loss, his happiness meant so very much to me. His love of me being castrated, emasculated, soft and limp mattered to me I found and as he wrapped me in a blanket and laid my head to rest in his lap, I felt safe and protected as I had always done in Daddy’s presence; even when he had violated me or perhaps especially then. I also felt exhausted and shortly after the blanket was pulled up, I slipped into a deep and dreamless sleep.

I woke up with a start in the middle of the night, screaming from a nightmare I could not remember, although I could certainly guess what it had been about. As Daddy woke up and held me, the reality of my situation crashed down on me again and my screaming mixed with crying. Daddy did the same thing he had done right after us getting home. He held me and comforted me, told me what a wonderful boi I was and how he loved that I had given him my balls and then he made me blow him. Again, as his cock slid into my mouth, I had the feeling I should feel violated, but again instead I took comfort in his cock, soon relishing in the wonderful and familiar task of making the blowjob as good as possible for him. The task somehow banished my neutered state from my mind and when it was over and another massive load was swallowed, I fell asleep in Daddy’s embrace feeling wonderful.

The next week went like that. Daddy tended to my every need, taking care of everything and telling me at every turn how much he loved me being soft and limp. Whenever I was down he made me blow him and very soon I craved sucking him, loved it even more than I had before my castration.

I also began getting hot flashes out of nowhere, suddenly feeling like I burned with fever, but Daddy assured me that this was normal for a neutered boi. When I got sad, I got very sad but this was apparently normal as well and sucking Daddy helped this immensely. More and more I forgot about my cock and focused on pleasing him as that made me so very content. I even began to appreciate the look of my cock hanging down, flopping around when I moved.

After a week, Daddy removed the mittens from my hands. I had yet to see my crotch even if Daddy had changed the bandage a few time, he had always made sure I couldn’t see my crotch. He dressed me, led me to the car and drove me to the doctor. My feelings of resentment were melting away, already mostly gone after a week as I could feel myself becoming even more passive and docile than before. I now had no urge to escape during the drive but in fact had begun to feel real fear of having to manage out there on my own. I could no longer see any kind of place for me out there. I was a neutered, toothless and essentially helpless, young gay man – except I wasn’t a man anymore. I needed Daddy now; depended on him and hoped he would never let me go again.

At the clinic it was all smiles and warmth as they welcomed Daddy and they hardly seemed to notice me as we were led into the examination room. While they chatted I was ordered to undress and soon I stood naked and passive, waiting for Daddy to guide me, tell me what to do. The order came and soon enough I had my feet in the stirrups, spread and naked in front of the two cruel ladies who had so enjoyed neutering me. I couldn’t meet their gaze at all, but fortunately for me they mostly ignored me. While Daddy held my hand, stroking it as I needed him again, feeling lost without him, the doctor removed the bandage and declared that it had healed up very nicely. Then she removed the stitches, something which took surprisingly little time and declared, beaming with pride, that it looked very nice.

Then, as she acknowledged my presence for the first time, she took a mirror and showed me, from every angle, the place where my balls had been just a week ago. I had a feeling I should be screaming with terror, but couldn’t do it, both from astonishment and because I deep down had to agree with Daddy, even if I didn’t want to: it looked sexy. It did in fact look like I had never had any balls at all. The scar, which was clearly visible as of yet, but which I could also see would fade to nothing because of the quality of handiwork, looked like it could have come from very nearly anything, a set of balls seeming very unlikely somehow. I am quite sure I gaped in wonder, feeling a sense of loss but distantly; so very strangely distant.

“Does the nasty little cock work anymore?” I heard the assistant, Ilse, ask no one in particular. Then, to my horror, she grabbed my limp little thing and began masturbating it. I had never felt so violated in my life, not even when they cut off my balls. She acted as if I wasn’t there, as if my now useless cock wasn’t even a part of me, but some mildly interesting specimen. The doctor, Gretchen, couldn’t help but snigger as she halfheartedly tried to tell her lover to stop it, but Daddy did what he does best, what makes me love him so intensely even when he’s having horrible things done to me. Slapping her hand away he said, reproachfully: “Come off it now, you evil woman”, a mocking tone, but friendly tone permeating his voice: “Not only is the sweet boi completely and utterly impotent as is best for him and how I want him, but he is also gay, you crazy bitch!” Although they all laughed good naturedly at this I was eternally grateful for Daddy’s defense of me and thanked him with a devoted whisper as they continued talking.

Right before we left, me silently in tow behind Daddy, the doctor said that as long as Daddy wasn’t too rough we could begin having sex again. Then, turning to me she said: “I am sure you want your Daddy’s cock inside you as much as possible, don’t you boi?” Then she pinched my cheek far too roughly and smacked my butt as I tried to hide behind Daddy. “Come off it now, you sweet little cocksucker, you want that man-cock inside you now, filling you up, reminding you of who is man and who isn’t, don’t you my little eunuch bitch?” I wanted to crawl into hole and hide and although I am much taller than Daddy I actually tried to hide behind him, use him as a shield. That, however, was not the way Daddy wanted to play it. Pulling me out in front, he wrapped a protective arm around my waist and chided the women for being mean to me, told them that of course I wanted his cock, but that I was also a sweet and shy boi around such pushy women. I was unable to meet their eyes at any point, staring fixedly at my feet. I needed Daddy to hold me and protect me and his arm around my waist was my anchor, my only shelter. It didn’t matter in the slightest anymore that he was the one who had had me castrated, the one who had turned me into the scared and shy gay eunuch boi who now cringed before a couple of nasty, pushy lesbians. All that mattered was that he wanted me and cared for me; that he protected me and desired me. And in my mind only two thoughts would fit at that point: that I wanted to get away from there as fast as possible and that if I had been confident enough to speak at all I would have shouted: “Yes you crazy bitch! You’d better believe I want his cock inside you, you evil, man hating, castrating psychopath!”

I was in luck as Daddy soon made his goodbyes and led me out of there, his arm wrapped protectively around my waist. I was lost, I realized as we walked towards the car. I was not only dependent on a man who had done terrible things to me, but in love with him. I tried to steel myself, to make myself see that he, not the evil bitches, was the one who had neutered me, removed my teeth, conditioned me and taken away practically all of my freedom, but all I could think was how much I loved and needed him and how I loved to see him happy.

I don’t remember the drive home or getting up to his apartment. All I remember is him undressing me, kissing me, kissing my body as he told what a good boi I was and how he loved to see my soft and docile. I remember declaring my love for him again and again and how he entered me from the front this time and how I wrapped my legs hungrily around him, pushing him into me. I was torn between a subdued sense of panic at the feeling of my cock flopping uselessly around on my abdomen and the fact that it also felt kind of sexy as I could feel how much Daddy loved it. Unlike before my body could no longer said to be on fire when he took me; I didn’t feel desire anymore. But that didn’t mean I didn’t love it anymore. I loved it absolutely and at least as much as before. And like before I not only loved it, but needed it too. I needed the intimacy and the sense of being desired more than anything else, but I also found that when Daddy hit my prostate the pleasure I derived was, if not as good as before, then very nearly so. And after a good long fuck, gentle and considerate, we miraculously “came” at the same time: Daddy shooting his big man load inside my boi pussy while I squirted a tiny amount of clear fluid out on my belly as I, with a new sense of acuteness, felt the “anal shivers”. It was perfect, miraculous and in my newly castrated state felt like the complete and total fulfillment of Daddy’s promises.

I settled in to the old routine as Daddy’s stay at home boi again; now without any access at all to phone, pc, TV or even radio. For entertainment I had some music on an iPod picked by Daddy, all of it cheerful pop, something I could dance to as I cleaned and cooked. Daddy also gave me a small tablet with wonderful pictures of himself, so that I had something to look at when I felt down. The front door was still locked from the inside and I had absolutely no contact with the outside world. Daddy didn’t take me out anymore but I didn’t mind. I didn’t want to anymore, didn’t feel I belonged anywhere but with Daddy. The very thought of being outside made me slightly panicky and crave Daddy’s presence.

When Daddy was around I was happy and did everything he wanted me to and did my very best to anticipate what he wanted and needed as well. When he praised me I felt like dying with happiness and when he chided me I broke down crying. Whenever he did chide me and I broke down, he would always make me beg his forgiveness and ask him nicely for a spanking; a spanking that would leave me crying in his arms, crying out all my fears and loss and feeling wonderful the next day, especially because of the wonderful fucks that always followed spankings. Just as Daddy had told me, I learned to love being able to concentrate fully on his pleasure as my own useless, little cock flopped around. Sometimes it got slightly fuller when he hit my prostate but mostly it stayed soft throughout, delivering a tiny load of clear liquid when I had one of my anal shivers.

Since eunuchs tend to gain weight Daddy put me on an even stricter diet, so that I stayed very slim, my arms now very thin and weak, just as Daddy liked it. He also bought me a whole new batch of hotpants and tight thongs and g-strings, so that my flat crotch would be shown off to its very best advantage. I may have cringed a little but I can’t deny feeling real pleasure in Daddy’s lustful looks the first time I donned a super tight pink thong, which pressed my tiny, soft flesh tube flat against my crotch. I wore that and my gold bracelet only and after dancing just two minutes like that for Daddy, I was being throatfucked very vigorously.

I was happy when he was there, able to block out everything else as I focused completely on keeping him happy. But when Daddy wasn’t there moments of intense despair came over me after my chores were done and I had looked at the pictures of him for far too long. I couldn’t let go of what I become, what Daddy had turned me into and I would sit crying while I touched the spot where my balls once were. I felt less and less desire and so missed cuming less and less, but I still remembered how feeling that desire had been amazing, even when I had just been locked up and I also remembered that cuming had been glorious, fantastic. I couldn’t remember exactly what it had been like, but I remembered that it had been good. And I missed it. Missed it very, very bad.

I was also very afraid of what would become of me in time. No matter that I was on a strict diet and that I worked out and did yoga every day, I knew that I would one day lose that which made me an attractive and desirable boi. Then what, I wondered. What would happen when Daddy no longer wanted me? He assured me that I would always be desirable and that I would be taken care of and treated like a treasured pet for the rest of my life, but even I knew that my looks would begin to slip in ten years, fifteen at the most, and I doubted that a man with so specific tastes as Daddy would want me by then. And then what would happen to me?

I realized that not only had he done these horrible and irreversible things to me; he had also made sure I was denied any means with which to mitigate the effects and finally he had conditioned me to the point where I not only accepted this, but loved it and so lost sight of what would happen to me in the slightly longer term. In fact Daddy was so good at it, that these thought disappeared completely when he was around. I was knocked back to square one as it were.

When he walked through the door I was instantly transformed back into his boi toy, squealing with delight as I saw him and melting under his touch and his kiss, so eager to please, overjoyed at the slightest attention.

But when I had been alone for a while the thoughts returned. The locked door and the complete lack of means to get in touch with anyone at all and call for help, as well as the complete blackout on any kind of influence apart from him, spoke the ugly truth that I was less of a pampered stay at home boi, than a prisoner, a slave. Daddy’s little eunuch slave. I hated the thought, the very idea, and would often sit dressed in my cheery pink or purple outfits, clinging to my no doubt hot body, and slip my hand into my panties or hotpants to feel the exact depth and totality of my imprisonment, my slavery. I was trapped and there was no way I could deny it; not even to myself.

It has been six weeks since my castration and its Friday night. Daddy has just come home and kissed me deeply, groping my ass before sitting me down on the couch with him. Today has been especially miserable and I am overjoyed to see him. I know I should hate him, but as always it is simply impossible for me. Whenever he’s around I can’t help but loving him and right now I feel intensely happy, holding his hand, fingering it as he talks to me.

He says he has something important to tell me and that I need to listen very carefully. My heart does a summersault as I think I recognize a classic breakup line. My face no doubt reflects this clearly because he laughs softly: “No, you sweet boi, I’m not breaking up with you”. I breathe a deep sigh of relief as he goes on: “No boi, I want you to be as happy as possible; want you as my sweet cheerful and carefree boi always”. His words again gives me that bubbling feeling of falling in love and I wonder how he does that, how he is able to make me feel this way after all this time, after all he’s done to me.

“But I see that you aren’t happy boi”, he continues, “When I’m not around you are still unhappy and you cry and cry, don’t you boi?” I’m very surprised, flabbergasted in fact, but of course he knows these things. He must have cameras installed, he must have, and I’m a fool not to have realized this given how much attention he has shown me throughout our relationship, how much control he has always exerted over me. “Yes boi, I know and it pains me to see you like this”. His face reflects his concern for me and I feel a need to reassure him; to promise that I will do better, that I will get over this and concentrate fully on him again. I don’t make it as he goes on to say his piece: “So tomorrow you will begin one final change, one that will insure that you stay a happy and carefree boi for the rest of your life”. How is he going to do that I wonder with trepidation? “Tomorrow morning you will drink a little bottle I will give you, the first of fifteen such bottles. In the bottle is a medicine that will insure that you will be happy always”. Medicine? Happy always? I am now deeply scared, as scared as when said he would castrate me, maybe even more so. “What medicine Daddy?” I finally manage to croak. He smiles: “The medicine will gradually reduce your intelligence so that when the treatment is finished you will be unable to handle big thoughts in your pretty little head and this, assisted by some gentle and loving conditioning that I will provide along the way, will make sure that once the treatment is over you will be so very happy and carefree and that you will remain so for the rest of your life. By doing this I will make you happy and I so want you to be happy boi”.

He wants to take away my mind! He wants to do a chemical lobotomy on me, only much worse. Daddy wants to reduce me to a complete airhead bimbo! I want to scream, but I can’t. I sit frozen with terror and I feel how my feet do a little dance as if they run in place, getting nowhere. Knowing what Daddy can do and what he has already made me do, I have no doubt that he can make me do this as well. With that thought I lose bladder control and wet myself like a baby.

I blubber, I babble a mixture of tears and snot as I try to plead with him to let me keep my mind, but I produce no words, no sense. Daddy smiles at me, tells me he understands that it’s a big step, but that first we have to clean me up. I am without even token resistance, without will, as he leads me into the bathroom and washes me and dries me off and leads me into the bedroom. I am now able to produce words of sorts through my abject terror: “Pluh…pl…pluhs…Please Daddy!” I manage, “pluh…please don’t do this! I’ll be happy I…I…I… prom…pro…mise”. I babble on: “I don’t want to lose my mind!” I finally manage to scream. Daddy holds me tight and explains that I won’t lose my mind at all. I’ll just get a little adjustment that will make me happy and that I don’t really need to think now that I’m his boi. All that thinking is making me unhappy and since he cares so much for me, Daddy wants that to stop, wants me to have this little adjustment. It will be a minor thing he promises and that once it’s over I’ll wonder what all the fuss was about; why I didn’t want it. He only wants my happiness, he assures me as he holds me tight.

I’m completely trapped and I know it. We both know it. By morning Daddy will have his way and I will lose that final part of me to him, be reduced further, reduced one final and terrible time. I cry and cry, try to beg but am unable to form the words. I am simply too scared. Daddy knows what to do and soon my arms are twisted behind my back, held in a vice grip by his strong left hand while I lie across his lap. My crying is now more like screams of terror but soon change to screams of pain and desperation as Daddy starts to spank me. It is by far the worst spanking I have ever had; not because of the pain, I’ve had worse, but because I know that this is somehow the final defeat, the one from which there can be no comeback whatsoever. Daddy wants to take away my mind; make me stupid and he will make me submit to it no matter what.

After the spanking I cry endlessly in his arms, but with terror and not catharsis. He whispers that I am his good boi and that it will all turn out for the best; that this what I need, what is good for me, and that all he wants is to see me happy. He kisses me deeply, pulling me up to meet his lips and helplessly conditioned I meet his kiss, responding greedily to his horrifying affection.

It should feel like rape what he does to me, pinning my hands by my sides as he enters me, but it doesn’t. Although is yet another mark of my defeat it feels like gentle and caring lovemaking. I can’t speak, not yet, but I wrap my legs around him again and move just so, intensely happy that he wants me, desires me and loving the way he is pleased with me. Even now, as he poised to take away my mind I can’t resist him in any way. I even find pleasure in the limp flopping of my little, useless dick against my belly, knowing it pleases him that it’s all soft.

It’s morning and I am utterly terrified. I hardly slept last night and Daddy had to feed me and make sure I peed this morning. I am paralyzed with fear but at least I am able to form words this morning, even if they only come out as pathetic whispers: “Please don’t do this Daddy. Please! I don’t want to be stupid Daddy. I don’t want to lose my mind! Please Daddy!” He merely smiles and kisses me again, assures me that it’s for the best and that he only wants to see me happy. As he does this he puts an adult diaper on me and pulls a pair of rubber shorts over them. I break and no more words come as I cry. Then he hands me the bottle. It’s about half the size of an old-fashioned soda bottle and in it is a clear fluid. My hand shakes but Daddy holds onto my hand, guides it up to my lips. “Please…” I manage weakly and then the glass touches my lips and Daddy helps me pour it into my mouth. I should spit it out but find that I have resistance left and I swallow the whole bottle as he makes me tilt my head back to drink. The defeat in this act alone should make me lose my mind.

“Good boi!” His praise is instantaneous and enthusiastic, his eyes lit with pleasure with me and dimply I feel some satisfaction that I can please him. I have an oily aftertaste in my mouth and a feeling of warmth begins to spread from my belly and out into my limbs. Gradually, but not slowly, I feel like everything gets wrapped in a layer of cotton, all impressions muted and far away. I freeze in the sitting position I am in now, holding on to the bottle, unable to let it go or even take down my arm. And this is just the outside effects I realize; what my eyes and ears pick up, what I can feel with my skin and muscles. What goes on in my head is truly terrifying. I can’t explain it but I can feel it working on my brain, breaking me down, taking away my smarts. I panic but am unable to move or even scream. Nothing comes out and that somehow makes it all much worse.

Daddy gently lays me down on the couch, takes away the bottle and puts my arms down, just as he has to position every other part of me so that I am comfortable. Then he puts a blanket over me and as I feel two fat teardrops rolling down my cheeks, the only outward sign of the horror taking place in my head, he strokes my cheek and says: “Good boi. You are such a good boi. I know it’s bad now, but it will soon be over and you’ll be such a happy boi. Good boi”. Then he rolls down my eyelids and I am trapped with the terror of my vanishing intelligence.

A pair of earphones are shoved gently into my ears and soon after Daddy’s voice fills my ears: “A good boi should never think for himself. Daddy does all the thinking and makes all the decisions. It’s wrong for a boi to decide anything. You feel bad when you try think for yourself, sick to your little tummy and all afraid. It’s much better to be told what to do by Daddy. Daddy will make it right. A good boi always obeys. A good boi loves pleasing Daddy more than anything in the whole world. A good boi loves having a smooth crotch with no balls and a tiny soft cock. A tiny soft cock means that boi can concentrate fully on pleasing Daddy and that is the best thing in the whole world….” The words flow in an endless stream into my decaying mind and after a while I feel myself responding to them; feel myself thinking them good and true and so very comforting and true. The abject terror of feeling my mind slip forces me to take comfort in Daddy’s soothing words and listening to them almost makes me forget the horror going on in my brain. He is damaging me irrevocably but I love him and listening to him is the only comfort I have now. I absorb every word he says; love hearing them and find them true and good like never before. Daddy’s voice is the only shelter I have from the terror I feel.

Distantly I feel my body being picked and laid down on a flat surface. Warm and caring hands change my diaper and remove my dentures. A thick smooth liquid is poured into my mouth and I automatically swallow. Then after a short while a new diaper is put on me and I am carried off and put to bed: “Goodnight boi. Sleep tight”. Daddy’s voice is a warm whisper as the blanket is placed over me again, leaving me to fall into an exhausted sleep. I love Daddy so much.

It’s morning again and I am in panic. Yesterday was the worst in my entire life and the feeling of having lost something incredibly important is immense. Although I can’t put my finger on it precisely I feel dumber already and realize that this lack of ability is part of that. Daddy has forced me to have regular breakfast smooth and to go to the toilet as usual, but he has taken my dentures, says I won’t need them while this goes on. I was unable to resist the diaper and as a result I am now standing in diapers and rubber shorts again. I tremble as I try to resist, to back out, but in the end I am literally up against a wall, Daddy pressing the bottle into my hand. Sliding down the wall in defeat I plead and beg but all too soon I am again swallowing the hateful liquid and soon after I am wrapped in my cocoon of terrible, mind defeating numbness. He is winning, just as he always has, and I am gradually becoming dumber and dumber. As I go under I hope to be able to hear his soothing voice again even if I know it’s only really a harsh conditioning and when it fills my ears I cry from gratitude and embrace all the messages completely as my only shelter.

It’s been a little over a week now and the treatments, as Daddy calls them, are a lot easier to cope with now. I no longer feel trapped or feel like my mind is being eaten. I just lay around all day feeling numb and paralyzed, but loving Daddy’s voice all the more. In the evenings I am clear just enough for Daddy to make love to me and I love this so much I cry. He is so gentle and loving and I am so lucky that he wants me.

This morning, before I had my bottle, Daddy gave me a little test. He asked me to read from a piece of paper, just half a page really. I had to stop before finishing, I was crying so hard. I couldn’t believe how slowly I read or how many of the words, the big words mind, I could no longer read or even understand. I know this means I’ve lost something; that I’m becoming dumber, but I can’t seem to get my head around what. I know it’s wrong but I don’t know how and it makes me desperate. But Daddy made it alright again like he always does. He gave my cute little boi butt a good spanking, let me suck that wonderful cock of his and then made me take my medicine. I was so grateful when he carried my off to bed and let me lie there all day, lounging around while does all the work. I love Daddy so much.

It’s been more than a week since Daddy gave my last bottle of medicine and I’m all better now. At least that’s what Daddy says and Daddy is always right. I feel so happy that I am Daddy’s boi and I’m just singing all day long as I wait for him to come home. Sometimes I miss him and then I’ll look at the pictures of him on the little screen that is so clever. He calls it something special, but I think that’s a word for the big people and not a little bimbo boi like me.

Daddy also asked me if I could remember how worried I had been about taking my medicine and how afraid I had been of it. I can, sort of. I can remember being very scared of something, but I can’t figure out what it was or why. Daddy’s here after all and that makes everything all right. He asks if I can remember being sad about my little cock not being hard anymore and again I can remember if. Sort of. I mean, I can remember saying something like that, but I really can’t think why. I love being soft for Daddy. He asks me if I ever wish I could get hard again and I shake my head as hard I can. Getting a nice hard-on is for men only and not for bois like me. I don’t ever want to feel my little thing get stiff. I want to stay soft for Daddy! I feel tears in my eyes and I beg Daddy to never let me get hard ever again and he kisses me and tells me not to worry. He will take care of everything and that I will be a soft boi for as long as I live. Still a little scared but very relieved I rest my head on his shoulder and tell Daddy I love him.

Chapter 5: Delivering

Daddy has brought another man with him home today. Daddy calls him “Daddy Richard”. I think he looks ever so hot, but as always it’s Daddy I can’t take my eyes off, Daddy I want to please. It seems like I have been his soft, little bimbo boi forever but Daddy says that it’s only been three weeks since I stopped taking my medicine and got all better again. I don’t really care. All I care about is keeping Daddy happy. When Daddy is happy, I am happy.

Daddy has told me that Daddy Richard would be here today and that I would be going with him, going to be his boi instead of Daddy’s. I didn’t really understand how that could be. Did Daddy want me to have two Daddies? At this Daddy laughed and gave my cheek a playful little slap and called me a sweet, dumb, little airhead. This made me become all happy but also confused. Happy that I had pleased Daddy and confused because it felt like Daddy was making fun of me too, even if I didn’t understand how or what about. Then Daddy kissed my cheek and told me to stop thinking and that he would explain it to me again. I smiled happily as he said it because thinking is so hard and it makes my little head hurt and gives me a bad feeling in my tummy. I am so lucky that Daddy can think these things for me.

Then Daddy explained it to me again. It took a few tries but finally he made me understand that he was giving me away to Daddy Richard and that I would be going with Daddy Richard instead of staying with Daddy. I became terribly sad when I understood because I love Daddy so much and don’t want to leave him ever. I didn’t understand why he was giving me away to another Daddy, but as I blubbered this to Daddy he said that I shouldn’t think about it, but instead be glad that he was making sure that I would be a happy boi with Daddy Richard. Then he spanked me hard and as I cried out in his strong arms like so many times before Daddy told me to be a good boi now and simply accept that I would be Daddy Richard’s boi soon, and that I must concentrate on making Daddy Richard happy. I promised to be a good boi and when my tears had dried Daddy fucked me again. I didn’t even think about my soft little thing until afterwards when Daddy dried the tiny drop it had made on  my tummy away. I had just tried making Daddy feel good, because that is the best feeling in the whole world; when Daddy is pleased.

Over the next couple of days Daddy spent a lot of time explaining to me how I would soon be Daddy Richard’s boi and I am so grateful he did, because my little head couldn’t understand it at all at first. But Daddy was ever so patient and ever so nice, giving me that little screen with pictures which now showed pictures of Daddy Richard so I could see how nice and how hot he looked. Daddy also made sure I understood by spanking me often and as my ass became more and more sore I understood what was going to happen and I again understood that I shouldn’t think about things; I should just do as Daddy tells me because being told what to do so I don’t have to think is just the best feeling in the world.

Now the day has come and Daddy sits me on his lap and tells me that today is a very important day for me; the important day when I become Daddy Richard’s boi and do I understand it now? I smile at Daddy, just so happy that he’s holding me, talking to me, even if I now understand that it’s my last day with him. Proud that I understand it, but also a very sad, I tell Daddy that yes, I understand that I will be Daddy Richard’s boi now. Daddy tells me what a good boi I am and then he calls to Daddy Richard who comes in through the door. Daddy Richard, who I know from the pictures on the little screen, is really hot. Like Daddy he is shorter than me, but muscular and fit and I bet he’s smart too, like Daddy is. He looks like a real man and I am a little giddy that he would want a soft little airhead boi like me.

Daddy Richard comes over and tells me to stand up so he can see me properly,  letting his hand travel down my arm. I feel quite hot now, feel a need to please Daddy Richard while at the same time feeling so very sad that I will have to leave Daddy. It’s just so confusing for a boi like me. Daddy Richard spots this and leans in and kisses me deeply, his hands holding me tight, fondling my ass. I can’t help it but give in and kiss him back. My god Daddy Richard is a good kisser! Just like Daddy.

With that thought I begin crying since even I know this means that I really will be leaving Daddy, but of course Daddy Richard will have none of it. He grabs my hand and drags me into the bedroom, strips me and spanks my ass so very hard. I can’t help it. As I cry out against his manly chest I find myself responding to him just as I do with Daddy. His spanking was just so good. I feel so safe and protected in his arms and he is such a good kisser too. He tells me that he loves me and wants to see me happy and as he lays me down on my back and enters me, I do my best to please him and love every second of it. As he cums inside me my little cock spurts a tiny drop of clear fluid as I have one of my anal shivers for him and I can’t help but tell him I love him.

After the fuck he spoons with me and as he holds me tight he tells me how I now his soft boi and that I will go with him now. I feel sad of course, but I don’t cry. I’m just an airhead boi and when both Daddy Richard and “Daddy Tom”, as Daddy Richard says I must now call him, says I have to go then I know I must go. And although I have only just met him I know he will take good care of me and I so hope I can make him feel good, be his little soft boi. Daddy Tom has made sure that I am well trained, a soft and docile sub boi and I am very proud when I can show him that I have been trained well.

Half an hour later Daddy Richard has had me dress: I’m wearing a tight pink t-shirt with the words “Bimbo” written in silver on the front. My ass is squeezed down into wonderfully tight, pink hotpants, my tiny soft thing pressed down between my legs. I am wearing low white ankle socks and my prettiest pink sneakers. Daddy Richard says I look very pretty and I beam my happiness at him. He holds my left hand as we walk into the living room and in his own left hand he holds the small bag that holds all my clothes. Not much really: hotpants, thongs and tight t-shirts. A few pairs of socks and my two other pairs of sneakers: purple and yellow.

Saying goodbye to Daddy Tom who has been very good to me, who has done so much for me, is very hard, but I am so happy he wants this too, that he cares so much for me that he has found a man like Daddy Richard for me. I cry with happiness at how good Daddy Tom has been, but Daddy Richard is there to comfort me and when I sit alone on the car with him, holding his hand, I feel all happy and warm again. I don’t look out the window; I look at Daddy Richard only.

Daddy Richard has told me that I have been with him for six months now, but even if it makes me happy that have been with him for so long, I don’t really care about that. All I care about is being a good boi for him; making him happy. I live my life much as I did when I was Daddy Tom’s soft boi, except Daddy Richard lives in a bigger house. I take care of the house for him of course and he makes sure I can’t go out without he permits it and that I am protected from coming in contact with anyone but him or with people he knows. I work out and do yoga just as I did at Daddy Tom’s house and I am on the same strict diet so that I can stay slim for Daddy Richard. I am busy most of the day, but all the same Daddy Richard fills my little airhead all of the time. I live to make him happy and I am just so happy with my life and can’t imagine ever doing anything else.

Today is a special day. Daddy Richard and me are visiting Daddy Randall. Daddy Randall’s boi is Gino, who is Victoria’s nephew. I know I used to work with Victoria but I also have trouble believing it. I still remember working with her and others, but it seems unreal somehow. I mean Victoria is just really smart, one of the big people, who think big people things and not at all like Gino, David, Alan and me who are just bimbo bois. Gino is Daddy Randall’s boi as I said, David is Daddy Robert’s and Alan is Daddy Anthony’s boi. We are all pretty, slim and completely soft – just like our Daddies, the men, want us to be. None of us a very bright, we all know that, but that’s alright. The men all like us just as we are and make sure none of us have to make a single decision ever. And they are just so sweet to us. They even have a name for us bois. When we are together they call us ”The Bubbles”, since we’re all just soft little airheads. We think it’s so sweet and we all love our men desperately.

We are all together for a barbecue at Daddy Randall’s pool. Of course all the bois will be having their usual smoothies, but we like it that way. Steaks are for real men; not soft bois and we love to see our men happy. All us bois sit in a group by the pool, dressed in brightly colored thongs. We are a very loving group, always touching and kissing each other as we talk endlessly about out men. We don’t talk about anything else really but we never get bored or run out of things to talk about. Our Daddies are our favorite subject and we all live to please them.

Two surprise visitors are here today: Victoria and Daddy Tom. Gino and I both look longingly at Daddy Tom. Although we love our Daddies dearly, we both have a soft spot for Daddy Tom, since he was both mine and Gino’s first Daddy. David and Alan’s first Daddy was called Roger and all of our Daddies have said that Daddy Tom and Daddy Roger are the best boi trainers out there, which makes me proud to have been with him, even if I don’t quite understand what they mean by “boi trainers”. He is still warm and affectionate, kissing both of us in turn as he asks how his favorite little airheads are. We chatter instantly, talking over each other as we rush to please, but he simply laughs us off and tells us to be quiet. He’s pleased to see us, but we must shut up now. We both beam with happiness as he joins the other Daddies by the grill.

Next Victoria, who is Gino’s aunt, comes over to say hello. Like the men she is very smart, but she also scares us and she is a bit of a meanie – even if none of us dares to say it. She always insists that we show her our tiny little cocks and takes great pleasure in manipulating them as we cringe. None of the bois like to have their limp cocks touched by anyone but their Daddy and we are all afraid of women. We have all been castrated by Gretchen and Ilse.

Then men and Victoria are talking about how Daddy Tom’s new boi is coming along and is very nearly “ready for delivery”. I don’t understand what he means by this, but the boi is very lucky to be with Daddy Tom, I know that much. Victoria chuckles a little as Daddy Tom says this and tells him that the next boi has just cleared the psychological tests at the company and will be ready for him in a week or two. Then she says something about how the turnover of pretty little twinks in her department would really attract attention if it wasn’t such a good business for the company. Daddy Richard joins the chuckling and says something about how much he did enjoy making those tests and how fortunate it is when one can mix business and pleasure. They all laugh at this and Daddy Anthony says it’s a good thing that they are all in the loop, close to where business is being made, since it could otherwise be expensive with what he calls “a best before five years after opening date” on the goods. This makes them howl with laughter as they all look at us bois simultaneously. “Well at least you know how to dispose of them gentlemen” Victoria says with an edge to her voice that scares me. It doesn’t scare the men who all laugh and agree with her, Daddy Anthony saying something about how there is always demand for docile fuckholes for brutal men out there, which sets them all laughing again.

I have a feeling that this is somehow important, that I should listen and understand what they are talking about, but I find that I can’t. Not only is it full of big people words that I can’t understand and know I mustn’t question, but also I know that I can trust Daddy Richard to keep me safe. As if to confirm this I am the first of the bois to be called over to blow my Daddy. Soon I sit with his beautiful cock in my smooth mouth, looking up at the man I love and doing my very best to please him.

I feel so lucky. Daddy Richard loves to be blown just the way Daddy Tom taught me. He loves fucking me the way Daddy Tom taught me and loves to spank me and hold me just as Daddy Tom did. In fact everything that Daddy Tom taught me or liked, Daddy Richard loves as well. I mean, what are the chances of that happening? I am just the luckiest little soft boi in the world and I love Daddy Richard so much.

THE END

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