What Have I Become?
With a sheer force of will, I managed to clean up and make it through the rest of the workday, but my mind was in total chaos. I could barely process a single spreadsheet or focus during executive calls. I knew I couldn’t risk Max showing up at my office again—it was a critical, high-stakes week with our SubTech partnership negotiations coming to a head—yet the mere thought of trying to set boundaries with him made me sick to my stomach.
How had I become so weak?
And despite the terrifying risk, the darkest part of me loved it. I loved that he had forced his way into my office, shattered my authority, and put me on my knees. I wanted him more than anything else in the world.
That night, I dutifully texted him my meal photos and nude check-ins, just as I did every evening. Later in bed, I tried to make love to my wife. I did my best to be present, but behind my closed eyes, all I could see was Max. Sarah felt the hollow distance in my touch, pulled away, and softly told me she wasn't feeling up to it tonight.
By the end of the week, our morning training sessions had become the absolute focal point of my existence. Max drove me ruthlessly on the gym floor, but his stern demeanor now held a strange, domestic affection. He issued cold orders, but he’d occasionally ruffle my hair or give my ass a stinging slap when I completed a heavy set. My cock was rock hard every single moment I was near him, and he knew it. I practically begged to go down on him in the locker room, but I quickly learned I was only allowed to blow him when he wanted, not when I begged for it.
When I tentatively asked if he planned on dropping by my office again and if he could warn me next time, he merely smirked.
“I’ll come whenever I feel like it, Mr. Anderson,” he said, saying my last name with a subtle bite of condescension. “I don’t ask your permission for anything.”
He was right.
That evening, when I stepped out of the corporate tower into the executive parking garage, I found him leaning nonchalantly against the hood of my Mercedes.
“Max,” I gasped, an instant, helpless smile breaking across my face. Like a teenage girl seeing her bad boy boyfriend. Expect I wasn’t a teenage girl, I was a CEO and he was my personal trainer.
“Give me the keys. I’m driving,” he commanded.
I slid into the passenger seat without a word, watching his sharp profile as he navigated my luxury sedan through the city grid. I stared at his lips, his dark eyes, bathed in the soft glow of the dashboard. He stayed silent, keeping his eyes on the road. I knew Sarah was at home waiting for me, but the thought evaporated almost immediately. I had no choice. I was with Max, and he owned my time.
He pulled into an abandoned, unlit industrial lot on the outskirts of town. He threw the car into park, reclined his leather seat, and pulled his heavy cock out over his waistband. My eyes lit up, and Max let out a low laugh.
“Look at you,” he teased. “You look starving. This is what you want?”
“Please,” I breathed, desperate.
“Good boy.”
He allowed me to take his thick dick into my mouth. I worked greedily, licking and swirling my tongue around his head while he leaned back, flipped on the radio, and closed his eyes. I lost track of time, fifteen minutes, thirty, an hour, worshipping him in the quiet dark of my own car.
When he was finally ready to finish, Max snapped his eyes open, opened the driver's side door, and dragged me out onto the asphalt by my shirt collar. He forced me down onto my knees against the car body and began to fuck my throat, my head banging again the metal of the car, driving his entire cock down into me until tears streamed down my face and I gagged uncontrollably.
The sheer force and dominance of it drove me over the edge. Without even touching myself, just gripping frantically against Max’s solid thighs, I came into my pants. Moments later, Max let out a deep, gut-wrenching raw, filling my throat and stomach with his hot cum.
“Oh, fuck yes, Mr. Anderson,” he moaned, gripping my hair tight. “You’re becoming a real expert at this.”
I looked up at him through teary eyes as he casually wiped clean his dick in my hair. We both climbed back into the Mercedes, and he drove us to an apartment complex near the university campus. He parked, stepped out, and leaned through the open window with a sharp wink.
“You’re a great cocksucker,” he winked. “See you in the morning.”
I sat for a few moments and relived the time with him, as I slowly came done from his intoxicating presence. My dick was hard again in my damp pants. Then I collected myself and drove home.
At the end of Friday’s workout, as we stood by the lockers, Max announced he was adding a mandatory Saturday morning session, and charging me double his usual rate, of course. We were going to run the mountain trail just outside town.
Max was completely naked as he spoke, his lean, powerful muscles fully on display. He casually gathered his sweat-soaked gym clothes, his vest, shorts, and damp boxers, and tossed them directly at my chest.
“Wash these,” he commanded, turning his back on me. “Bring them back clean on Monday.”
To meet him, I had to cancel long-standing Saturday morning plans with Sarah, lying through my teeth about an urgent client emergency. Before heading out, I snuck into our master bathroom, pulled Max’s damp, heavy gym clothes from my bag, and pressed them against my face. The raw scent of his sweat filled my lungs, and I jacked off furiously right there on the bathroom tile, my dick still lubed and sticky.
The next morning, I met Max in the quiet gravel parking lot at the trailhead. He looked breathtaking in his tight running gear. He set a punishing pace from the start, and I gasped for air just trying to keep up. Though the trail was relatively quiet, a few early-morning hikers passed us, forcing my heart into my throat every time footfalls approached.
When we finally reached the summit, overlooking the sprawling fog of the city below, Max turned around, pulled his dick out, and signaled for me to kneel.
“Here?” I whispered, glancing nervously at the exposed ridge.
“Here,” he said.
I dropped to my knees on the gravel, completely submitting. Overlooking the entire city where I had built my empire, I gave him a slow, deep blowjob under the open sky. Paranoia gnawed at me with every rustle of the surrounding trees, but the thrill of public exposure only heightened my hunger.
This time, Max let me work him, taking all of his dick until my nose was pressed into his sweaty pubes, then pulling back to suck on his head. When he was ready to burst, I heard his breath quicken; he gripped my hair and came heavily into my mouth.
As I knelt there swallowing, he looked down at me, a lazy, amused smirk on his lips. “I’m having fun with you, boy.”
A wave of desperate pride washed over me. I wanted to tell him right then that I loved him, that I loved sucking his dick and drinking his cum, that he had woken something in me that I didn't understand, but the sheer insanity of the thought kept the words trapped in my throat.
He rocked his hips, allowing his dick to slap each side of my face. “I’m going to fuck you tonight,” Max said matter-of-factly, as if discussing the weather.
He laid out his explicit instructions: I was to purchase a douche, thoroughly clean myself, and use the silicone dildo to stretch my ass before coming over. He told me my first time would hurt and I needed to be prepared.
“Once I start, I will use you until I’m done,” he warned. The cold, clinical way he dictated the preparation mortified me, but I was powerless to refuse.
We ran back down the mountain in silence. Before we parted at his car, Max pulled me flush against him, his heavy hands gripping my waist tight. I felt small, completely helpless.
“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?” he said, locking eyes with me.
“Yes, Sir,” I breathed, the word slipping out before my brain could filter it. Why had I called him Sir? It had just poured out of me, effortless and true.
“Good,” he said, before pushing me away and getting into his car. He drove off, leaving me deserted in the parking lot, my shorts damp with precum and the taste of his cum still running down my throat.
I stopped at an adult shop on the edge of town, pulling my hat low to buy the preparation kit. I couldn't risk doing this at home with Sarah around, so I went to my empty office building on a Saturday afternoon. I locked myself in the executive bathroom, thoroughly cleansed my body, and then laid a towel on my office floor to begin stretching myself with the rubber dildo.
The pain was excruciating, a sharp, invasive burn unlike anything I had ever felt. I had to stop, gasp for air, and fight back tears, but the terror of disappointing Max pushed me forward. I worked at it relentlessly until I could take the entire length of the dildo without tearing. Drenched in sweat, I showered in the executive suite, scrubbing my skin raw so I would be spotless for him.
At 7:00 PM, I arrived at his apartment complex.
A young guy answered the door, a tall college jock wearing only basketball shorts, his chest completely bare. He looked me up and down with an amused, dismissive sneer.
“Jesus, where does he find you freaks?” he laughed over his shoulder. “Max! Your appointment is here!”
Max stepped into the hallway and told me to wait in the living room. Two other guys, the jock who answered the door, Oscar, and another roommate named Danny, were sprawled on the couch watching an NFL game. I sat stiffly in a wooden chair in the corner.
“He’s actually kind of cute,” Danny remarked casually to Oscar, not even bothering to lower his voice.
Humiliation burned through my veins. Sitting there in my expensive designer clothes, reduced to a piece of entertainment for three twenty-year-olds, made me feel microscopic.
Max re-emerged, holding a tiny, frilly maid’s apron. He stood over my chair, resting a possessive hand on the top of my head, and introduced me to his roommates.
“Strip,” Max commanded smoothly. “Put this on. Right here.”
The roommates turned around on the couch, grinning and making fun of me as I unbuttoned my suit, unzipped my trousers, and stepped out of my clothes in the middle of their living room. Standing stark naked except for a tiny white apron, my dick completely shriveled from the humiliation, I felt like an object.
For the next hour, I cleaned their messy apartment, picking up empty beer cans, wiping down counters, and taking out the trash while the three of them yelled at the television. When I finished, Max ordered me to cook. I had barely touched a stove in my life, but following Max's stern step-by-step instructions, I cooked steak and potatoes for the three of them, serving them humbly at the counter.
After they finished eating, Max had me kneel and massage his bare feet in front of his two roommates. The boys laughed and made comments; Oscar smirked and said he wanted a slave like me. I tried to tell myself I wasn’t a slave, that it was just a game for Max, to serve him, but the brutal truth was undeniable.
Max casually bragged to his buddies about how he knew I would submit the moment he saw me, telling them how much I wanted him. They laughed out loud as Max recounted how I begged to suck his dick, and he even pulled out his phone to show them all the nude check-in pictures I sent him every night. I sat there silently massaging Max’s massive feet, utterly humiliated, defeated, and totally submissive. But I never for a moment hated him, or resented him. I just wanted him.
Then he told his boys we were heading to bed. Oscar chuckled, “Don't be too loud.” Max grabbed me by my little apron and led me into his bedroom.
He stripped off his clothes and told me to lie naked on my back across the mattress. He generously coated his dick and my hole with lube, lifted my legs over his shoulders, and pressed his tip against me.
“Are you ready?” he said.
“Yes,” I wanted to be.
Even with all the preparation, the moment he pushed forward, a sharp scream tore from my throat. The girth was overwhelming, a tearing, white-hot agony.
“Breathe,” Max commanded, pushing slowly until he was buried all the way inside me.
I lay there aching, my chest heaving, but Max leaned down, looked into my eyes, and whispered, “Good boy.”
A hysterical, tearful smile broke across my face. He held still, letting my body adjust to him as he gently rolled his hips. I gasped and whimpered, begging him to go slow, but he kept his eyes locked on mine, steadying me with his weight.
Then, he began to move. He pulled out slowly and drove back in, the initial pain transforming into a deep, intense pressure that made my vision blur. As his pace quickened, the agony gave way to a strange, ecstatic friction. Within minutes, he was driving into me relentlessly, and I was gripping the bedsheets, crying out his name uncontrollably.
“Max! Max, oh fuck, Max... oh Jesus, fuck me! Wait... oh fuck!”
He fucked me for over an hour, shifting my body into different positions, over the edge of the bed, on my hands and knees, treating my body like a tool built entirely for his pleasure. Finally, he flipped me back onto my spine, pinning my arms above my head, and thrust deep and slow until I came hard across my own chest without even touching myself.
Before I could recover, he turned me over, pulled my hair back so I was forced to look at our reflection in the vanity mirror, and mounted me from behind, thrusting viciously, his hips slamming against my ass, until he groaned and came deep inside me.
Afterward, Max collapsed onto his back, completely spent. I curled up against his side, resting my head against his muscular chest as his fingers absentmindedly stroked my hair.
I lay there in the quiet dark, contemplating what I had become. I had never experienced the ecstasy of being fucked before. And he gave that to me. I had never felt this way about anyone in my life, let alone another man. I desired him not just physically, but psychologically, a total, intoxicating surrender.
I looked up into his dark eyes, took a trembling breath, and whispered the truth:
“I love you.”
Max paused his hand in my hair. He looked down at me, a slow, unreadable smile spreading across his lips.
“Of course you do,” he said softly. “You’re my bitch.”
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
