A gay man calls me his bitch

I met George in the usual way. A clean, conservative dating website. I was looking for a middle age woman to date after my third marriage fell apart. Why was this guy messaging me? I replied politely that I have ladies to flirt with. He was clearly a gentleman explaining he and I were in much the same situation.  I confided in him how I've never been able to impress a woman. I'm always the door-mat it seems. He asked many questions about my relationships like a psychologist might ask. I answered freely. He was a good listener. He made me feel better about myself. We chatted for a few weeks. He was friendly and understood my longing for companionship and love. He told me that just having a friend is a good start. I don't have many friends.  Most of them quit answering my texts and calls after my second divorce.  We met for coffee and had a nice time. I am in my late 50s but I look a bit younger. George was 65. He said he just retired. His marriages had ended badly too. He told me why. He said his place has always been at the top of the food chain. Women he dated or married were just possessions of his. His issues stemmed from his determination to do anything to fulfill his desires to succeed, win, and be in control. It was difficult for him to find women, or anyone for that matter, who would put up with his dominant personality and endless drive to win. He seemed so confident and sure of himself.  I told him so. He said he is going to test that right now. I wasn't sure what he meant. He said he was going to ask me some questions. And he is sure of how I will answer. I'm not sure he knows me that well. Or does he? 

"Your marriage fell apart because you allowed your wife to run your life, didn't it?"

" I suppose you could say that. "

"And she lost respect for you, didn't she?"

"Yeah, she ended up leaving me for a guy she works for. He was a professional tennis player before he started selling real estate. She always said she had so much respect for him."

"She treated you like a toy then threw you away didn't she?"

"She would embarrass me in front of our friends and my family. She would tell them what a bad businessman and husband I was."

"Why did you stay with her?"

I paused for a long time. I was getting uncomfortable with how personal a coffee meeting was getting. But I wanted to answer. I just didn't have one.

" I don't really know George. I'm still trying to figure that out."

"I know why, Billy. I know exactly why you've done what you've done, and with who." 

I remembered he told me he would ask me some questions but he already knew how I would answer. But I don't have an answer.  

"I'll help you, Billy. Tell me this, why does a man follow someone, a total stranger, into an unfamiliar place, not knowing where it might lead?"

"What the fuck? I don't know. Because he trusts that person?"

"No, Billy. He follows that person because he wants the things that are mysterious and dangerous . A dominant woman took you where you wouldn't or couldn't go yourself. You stay because it's easier than making it on your own. You let them lead you. You are a follower, Billy. And you will follow whoever is in front of you, a woman, or in this case, a man."

It took a while for it to sink in. He just read me. He took a look right into my weak, pathetic soul, and he has control of it. I am fucked. 

"You may have a point, George. So what happens now?"

Well, Billy, what happens is I tell you what to do, and you do it. Just like all your other relationships.  The difference here is I might respect you afterwards."

What just happened? Why do I feel the urge to ask him? I shouldn't ask him. I don't want to ask him. I know better. I'm sweating. I'm not going to ask him! I'm not!

"What do you want me to do?"

I'm such a pussy.

"Great question, Billy. I want you to pay for our coffee and then go out and sit in the passenger seat of my car. It's that one. (Pointing) I'll unlock the doors. I'll meet you there. I'll be right behind you. You can do that, cant you, Billy?" 

"Ummm... sure, George."

He is right. I'm a follower. And he keeps pushing.

"Good boy. You know, of course, once we get to my home, you are going to do whatever I tell you, don't you? The sort of things you would enjoy if you were a woman. You know. Like my slut?"

He stares into my eyes waiting for me to break. I can feel his power over me. I just nod. Like a bitch. He just told me he is going to use me like a woman whore. I feel like a bitch!

No more chat. The fancy remote in his hand clicks. There is a chirp and light flash. A Grey SUV is in the parking lot. I look at him. He is silent, waiting patiently.  I stand up, reaching in my pocket for some cash. What the fuck?

"OH, and by the way, there is a pair of handcuffs in the glove box. You'll need to cuff yourself before we can drive away. Hands behind your back. You can do that, can't you, Billy?"

His instructions continue to pull me in deeper. He is testing and manipulating me. Each time I say ok, he goes another step further. What an I suppose to say? 

"Sure George. I can do that."

I look over my shoulder as I walk out. He is just sitting there, watching. I struggle with the cuffs. Finally the second one clicks closed, securing my hands behind my back. I haven't even thought about any sort of sexual encounter.  I've been overwhelmed with his manner and his dominance of me. But as the cuff clicks tightly around my wrist, like a prison door closing behind me. I begin to fear what I've allowed myself to get into.  

As I watch him walk to to the car, closer and closer, I realize the size and power he carries.  He is six foot 4 if he Is an inch. 225 pounds at least. I'm barely 6 foot and a skinny 160. What is he going to do with me? I struggle against the cuffs. It's much too late.

As we drive my mind races. He keeps looking over at me, smiling.

I start to ask questions.  

"What did you mean when you said 'like a woman whore?' You're going to fuck me? What sort of friend forces me into his car and drives me away just to fuck me? This wasn't what I wanted when we met for coffee. "

"Yes it was, slut. You knew it. I told you I know how you'll answer my questions.  I know you. And you know I do. Don't you, slut?"

I just sit there like an idiot.  He is right. I can't talk. I'm afraid to ask any more questions. I'm a submissive bitch for whoever I meet. And now, I am his. I struggle. The cuffs hurt. I look away, out the window. I beg for a change in plans.

"Look, I've made a huge mistake. I think you should take me back, please. This is going all the wrong directions for me."

"No you don't.  You're just a pussy. You can't understand who you are. You need to embrace your place in this world my friend. Now, stop talking. You've said all I want to hear. And, actually, I'd love to see you silenced for the rest of the trip. I'd like that very much."

What does that mean?

The big Escalade turns off the highway pulling behind a vacant office building. George opens the console between us. Inside is a large roll of clear plastic tape. Something you'd use to wrap a box with before shipping it. Under the tape is a blue rubber ball with big bumps all around it. Like a dog toy. 

"You are going to follow my orders aren't you, Billy?"

I look at the ball that is now in his hand, right in front of my face. His comment about silencing me runs through my mind. Is he going to gag me? 

I am handcuffed. I'm in his car. I've got a seat belt wrapped around me. I've already agreed to all of it. I've encouraged it really. But did I? What has he done to me?

"Well, I'm waiting."

"Yes, sir. What are your orders?"

"Good boy. Open for me, slut." The ball slides past my lips then into my mouth. It opens my mouth a lot. Too much. I try to move my head away and spit it out. but it's too late. It's in, puffing my cheeks out. The sound of the tape ripping off the roll startles me. It sounds like death! The sticky tape wraps all the way around my face, over my lips, cheeks and the back of my head. 

What the fuck!

Why would anyone do this. I'm so confused.  I'm so fucked.  He takes my head in his hands, looking me up and down. Then deep into my eyes.

"You know how to really get me hard, you little slut. I'm going to fuck the living shit out of you this fine day."

Part 2 

His basement was dark and cold. We walked down a long hallway. The door opens and a light comes on. There are guns on the walls. A table for cleaning or working on them, and another door. We pass through the gun room into a large open bedroom. "This is the guest room." He laughs.

My clothes begin to be removed. He is busy stripping me, and not talking. The cuffs come off for a moment to remove my shirt. Then the tape is unwrapped from my face and the ball pops out onto the floor. "Let's get this party started right now."

He pulls my hands into his crotch. His pants fall to the floor. He has been hard for a while already. "Jerk me off, bitch."

I slowly wrap my fingers around his long, fat cock. He leans in and kisses me. Shit!

"You're doing fine. Just keep it going."

His tongue forces my mouth open. I let him kiss me. I squeeze his cock harder with each deep thrust of his tongue. My mouth is wet and drooling. I keep squeezing and pulling on his hard manhood. I'm in a daze. He can tell. "Get down on it, bitch."

My knees hit the concrete floor. His cock is warm and sweaty. It tastes better than I thought one would. I'm hoping he comes in my mouth. What? I'm hoping what? I try to concentrate.  The tip of his cock touches the back of my throat. I know everyone likes that. I try to let the tip go in. I push. It feels good back there. Snot blows out of my nose. I take a break and choke a little bit. He is enjoying my efforts. "Good boy. Choke on it more."

After working on my throating move, and noticing my jaw and lips are pretty sore already, he grabs the back of my head and blows a huge load. It's sudden and catches me off guard. I can't take it. He won't let my head move back. I'm choking and blowing more snot out my nose and cum between my lips. He finally pulls away and squirts all over my surprised face. "Oh fucking yes!"

Bill