I am a healthy European man who enjoys using fit submissive males. Along the way I enjoy helping submissive males and the men they serve better understand each other. Re-posted images deleted upon request.
I make Jake look at this picture at least once every week. I want him to remember the arrogant asshole he was that first time he showed up at my place, when he still saw himself like some type of god-like jock stud who was deigning to let some lowly faggot - me - suck him off for money. I want him to remember what his life was like before I took him down and made him the sniveling faggot fuck-bitch he is today, the pathetic little cock-slut who now raises his legs on demand, who spent an entire weekend as the toilet boy in the Ramrod’s backroom, who’s been passed around to so many different dudes that even I have no idea just how many cocks have had an intimate relationship with his permanently stretched-out cunt. I want him to understand just how far he’s fallen, just how far he has journeyed from the stud-boy he thought he was to the slave-bitch that he is, just how far the wheel of karma has turned. And when his face flushes with embarrassment, I laugh.
In the very first few moments I met Jake I knew - I knew that the macho posturing was just a mask, that beneath the surface of preening self-confidence there was a scared little slave bitch hiding inside. And I wanted it - that cowering little slave-bitch - I wanted it for my own. So I went to work on Jake.
He had no idea what was going on, not at first. Hell, he probably wouldn’t have believed it was possible, he was so taken up by his own self-deceptions. But, bit by bit, I chipped away at his out-sized ego, his arrogance, his pride. I made him see for himself how totally unsuited he was to the world of Real Men, men who made their own way, their own decisions, who deserved to be called ‘Men.’ And, step by step, I took him down the slow descent from ‘stud’ to ‘boy’ to ‘bitch’ to ‘slave.’
It was hard for Jake, losing all his illusions about himself, being forced to see himself as he really was - an insecure, worthless little slave-bitch whose only purpose in life was to sexually serve Real Men, however they desired. And it still hurts, I know, when he contrasts what he used to think he was with what he now is. Which is why I make him look at the picture of him giving me the finger - to make him remember. But lately I’ve been able to tell that the memory of his old persona is fading, becoming dimmer and dimmer. Soon, he’ll look at the picture and not even recognize himself - he’ll be incapable of seeing himself as anything other than the lowly slave-bitch he has become. At that point, the picture might as well just be the artifact of someone else’s life because Jake’s transformation will be complete. He will be the complete slave-bitch that I trained him to be, that he was always destined to become.
When that happens, I’ll retain the picture, of course, as a keepsake. But I won’t bother showing it to Jake anymore. What would be the point? He’d only see a stranger staring back at him.
195T4J05
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straighthell-stories wrote:
I make Jake look at this picture at least once every week. I want him to remember the arrogant asshole he was that first time he showed up at my place, when he still saw himself like some type of god-like jock stud who was deigning to let some lowly faggot - me - suck him off for money. I want him to remember what his life was like before I took him down and made him the sniveling faggot fuck-bitch he is today, the pathetic little cock-slut who now raises his legs on demand, who spent an entire weekend as the toilet boy in the Ramrod’s backroom, who’s been passed around to so many different dudes that even I have no idea just how many cocks have had an intimate relationship with his permanently stretched-out cunt. I want him to understand just how far he’s fallen, just how far he has journeyed from the stud-boy he thought he was to the slave-bitch that he is, just how far the wheel of karma has turned. And when his face flushes with embarrassment, I laugh.
In the very first few moments I met Jake I knew - I knew that the macho posturing was just a mask, that beneath the surface of preening self-confidence there was a scared little slave bitch hiding inside. And I wanted it - that cowering little slave-bitch - I wanted it for my own. So I went to work on Jake.
He had no idea what was going on, not at first. Hell, he probably wouldn’t have believed it was possible, he was so taken up by his own self-deceptions. But, bit by bit, I chipped away at his out-sized ego, his arrogance, his pride. I made him see for himself how totally unsuited he was to the world of Real Men, men who made their own way, their own decisions, who deserved to be called ‘Men.’ And, step by step, I took him down the slow descent from ‘stud’ to ‘boy’ to ‘bitch’ to ‘slave.’
It was hard for Jake, losing all his illusions about himself, being forced to see himself as he really was - an insecure, worthless little slave-bitch whose only purpose in life was to sexually serve Real Men, however they desired. And it still hurts, I know, when he contrasts what he used to think he was with what he now is. Which is why I make him look at the picture of him giving me the finger - to make him remember. But lately I’ve been able to tell that the memory of his old persona is fading, becoming dimmer and dimmer. Soon, he’ll look at the picture and not even recognize himself - he’ll be incapable of seeing himself as anything other than the lowly slave-bitch he has become. At that point, the picture might as well just be the artifact of someone else’s life because Jake’s transformation will be complete. He will be the complete slave-bitch that I trained him to be, that he was always destined to become.
When that happens, I’ll retain the picture, of course, as a keepsake. But I won’t bother showing it to Jake anymore. What would be the point? He’d only see a stranger staring back at him.
195T4J05