Too Much TV 2
by Richard Pickman
Lieutenant T.C. Callaway's ass still ached, but the pain had almost disappeared. Riding patrols on his bicycle had been uncomfortable for the last several days, yet bearable, since it was a constant reminder of his initiation. The police lieutenant had never felt anything as overwhelming as having Jeff, his Master, inside him, and could hardly wait for another chance at pleasing his Master in that most ultimate of ways. Serving Jeff, making him happy, was what T.C. now lived for. He found it difficult to understand how it could ever have been otherwise, and was proud that he had been the first chosen for subjugation.
Jeff had refrained from fucking T.C. for a while for two reasons. Firstly, in retrospect, he realized that the initial showerfuck with only soap as lubrication had not been the best thing for T.C.'s virgin ass. Jeff didn't want to him damaged, after only so recently becoming his possession. Mostly, though, he loved the teasing, watching the masculine cop sob, hearing him begging to get fucked. Watching the fratboy icon of his youth debase himself was more of a turnon than Jeff had imagined, in some ways even more erotic then the sex itself. However, he did not deny himself the use of his new slave. Jeff found other ways for him to show his adoration.
For example, watching T.C. do his morning Tai Chi exercises had become a daily treat. Sometimes he would lie on the beach in his shadow, watching the rising sun silhouette his languidly graceful movements. Other times, Jeff would have him go through his exercises at T.C.'s apartment in the nude. He was fascinated by the fluid mobility, the subtle interplay of muscles, knowing they were his to command. And all those exercises had made T.C. very limber, as Jeff delighted in testing every night by putting him into all manner of contorted positions. Under Jeff's guidance, he had become an expert cocksucker, taking every opportunity he could to practice, since this was the only way his Master could be inside him. Jeff had been leisurely inspecting every inch of the lawman by sight, touch, taste, and smell. The Modifier's success had far exceeded Jeff's expectations. Now the rich teen from high school that had ignored him, the former football hero he had fantasized about for years, was a man who was not only Jeff's sexual plaything, but also helping to bring his fellow police officers in the Santa Monica Bike Beach Patrol under Jeff's sway.
T.C. had already secretly connected one of the Modifiers to the computer system in his department, and another in the break room. Now every day all the officers present, whether working at their computers or relaxing watching TV, were having their brains reprogrammed, making them all Jeff's puppets. The women did not interest Jeff, except as a means to acquire more male slaves. As attractive and in shape as many of them were, they could easily entice any straight men to come home with them. Turn on the TV (with a Modifier installed), and another man would be on the road to calling Jeff "Master."
But for now, the male police officers were what interested Jeff. Of them, Bobby Cruz and Russ Granger were at the top of the list. T.C. had enthused about them being the most tempting guys in his department, ripe for control. The videos from the department's security cameras that he brought home, and Jeff's discrete surveillance of the two while they were on patrol, more than proved the point. They would make fine additions to his personal police force.
On a Tuesday night, a couple of weeks after the Modifier had been hooked up at the station, Jeff deemed things ready for the next step. He was sitting naked on the bed in T.C.'s apartment, behind the bigger man (who was also naked), legs wrapped loosely around his waist. T.C. was doing slow alternating dumbbell curls, while Jeff brushed fingertips up and down his warm, slick, well-muscled chest and abs. Jeff's head was nestled on the other's right shoulder, inhaling the musky scent, occasionally licking off the salty results, watching him working to improve his physique for his Master. Nuzzling T.C.'s neck, he finished giving instructions, whispering, " . . . and when you're through telling them what to do, make sure they don't remember anything unusual happened before you bring them out of it, Wendy." Jeff had called Callaway 'T' because he knew how much he had disliked that shortening of his nickname. But T.C. had confessed, on the night after his complete conversion, that his full name was Wendell Terry Callaway. It was why he had adopted the nickname of T.C. when he started high school, to avoid the torment he had received previously. Now Jeff liked, occasionally, to use the version of it that T.C. was taunted with in grade school, as one more thrilling proof of his obedience and adulation
"Yes, Master. Whatever you, uhhhh, want." T.C. said, tingling to his Master's touch, grunting from the effort of his workout.
"Since you've been so good, you deserve a special reward. Who do you want first, Cruz or Granger?"
"If, uhhhh, if it's alright, Master, I'd like Granger. He's given me so much, ohhhh, trouble since he started. I'd just love to, mmmmm, fuck that cocky smile off his face."
"Sure. Nothing but the best for my prize pet. I can settle with having Granger for seconds. Now, are you ready to get fucked?" Jeff said the last word slowly, drawing out the first letter, breathing it into T.C.'s ear.
Quivering, he said, "Ohhhh, Master, yes! Sucking you has been great, but, uhhhh, I've really missed your cock up my ass."
"I've missed it too, T. This time, I've made sure to have better lubrication than soap." Jeff untangled himself and stood at foot of the bed, in front of T.C. "Lie back, and relax." The two dumbbells dropped to the floor with a clank, rolling a few inches away from the bed. "Knee earrings." T.C.'s legs rose and bent until he could grab his ankles. Soon his knees were almost next to his ears.
Jeff knelt on the bed, enfolding T.C.'s thighs in his arms. He looked into the gorgeous eyes beneath him, which gazed up in idolized lust, framed by the halo of his dirty blonde hair, while sliding smoothly inside.
"How does it feel?" Jeff gently asked.
"Fantastic. You feel so, ohhhh, good inside me, Master. I could stay like this forever!"
"Of course you could. You're my willing, flexible little toy, aren't you?"
"Yes, Master. I am your toy. Play with me, use me, uhhhh."
Jeff bent over, his tongue plunging into T.C.'s ravenous mouth, his dick drawn deeper into the equally accommodating ass. Jeff enjoyed T.C.'s groans, and, as the night wore on, his frantic pleas to be fucked harder, as though he was trying to make up for the last few days. There were brief lucid moments, though, where Jeff couldn't help but think how much fun he would have when Cruz and Granger were his as well.
The next day, Lieutenant Callaway called Cruz and Granger to his office. The blinds were closed, so nobody on the first floor could see inside. As they walked up the stairs, Callaway sat behind his desk, imagining how, very soon, the two would be obeying not his orders, but the Master's.
"So, what's up, Lieutenant?" said Cruz as he entered.
"Close the door, Granger."
"Sure. Sounds serious. Is everything OK?"
"It's about the bicycle safety test next week. I was just wondering, are you studying hard, or hardon-ly studying."
At that, the faces of the two men standing went slack, their eyes blank and their mouths slightly open.
"Granger, lock the door. Now, both of you stand in front of my desk." Callaway's dick was hard, obscenely visible and somewhat uncomfortable, confined in his spandex biker shorts. He adjusted himself to relieve some of the pain. As turned on by being in total control of the two officers, even though by his Master's proxy, he knew he'd have to stay seated until he was alone again, so as not to cause concern in the two men's minds when they were no longer entranced, or anyone else in the station, for that matter.
Still, savoring the uninterrupted moment, Callaway inspected the men before him.
Cruz's Hispanic heritage was most evident in his mocha skin, that creamy coloration unattainable naturally by any Anglo. His gelled jet-black hair accentuated it, as did his dark eyes, normally filled with iron determination or fiery passion, now vacant. Beneath the wide nose were a set of full lips, made as if for kissing. If he had been smiling, his pearly white teeth and adorable dimples would have been fully visible. Though still clothed, the biceps stretching his sleeves gave an inkling of Cruz's excellent physical condition.
In some ways, Granger was similar. His hair was black and gelled, though styled differently. His eyes and skin were also dark. But there the similarities ended. The whites in Granger's eyes were more visible, making him seem to always be a bit surprised at the world. His skin tone was closer to burnished copper, his body lankier than Cruz's. High cheekbones gave his face a more triangular look. He had a narrow, sharp nose and thin lips. The way his ears stuck out and the way the ends of his mouth turned up when he smiled were reminiscent of a circus clown. The shirt Granger wore covered the tattoos on his upper arms, the whole image presented being that of a regulation-obeying officer. But it was a facade easily broken, as Callaway had come to discover, all too frequently.
He wanted to linger longer, but knew there would be time enough later to more fully examine them. Now, on to business.
"I'm going to give you some instructions, guys, and you're going to obey them completely. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Lieutenant" the two droned, almost in unison, "You will give us instructions, and we will obey them completely."
"Good. When you go out clubbing this Friday, each of you will wear tank tops and shorts. It won't seem unusual that you're both wearing the same kind of clothes. You'll believe you both have the same kind of evening in mind, that's all. And don't wear underwear, either.
Before you enter the first club you go to, though, you'll decide, Bobby, to come over to my place, to try and get me to go out with you, to help me get over Chris. Russ, you'll agree, though not at first. When you get there, I'll introduce you to Jeff, and you'll go along with whatever he wants you to do. You will tell NO ONE that you are coming to my place. It will seem perfectly natural that you want to keep it a secret. Nod if you understand all that."
Both men nodded.
"When I snap my fingers, you'll awaken, feeling totally refreshed. All you'll remember is that I told you what a good job you did on your last case. The instructions you've received will be carried out, but they will seem like your own ideas. Clear?"
Both men nodded again.
The Lieutenant started to snap his fingers, but paused. They're completely under my control, he thought. Why wait until Friday, when I can have a little fun with them now. Nothing too serious, though. Nothing that will leave evidence.
"Guys, turn and face each other." The two officers woodenly did so. "Standing in front of you is the most stunning woman you've ever seen. When I count to three, you'll kiss her, really kiss her. One, two," Callaway stopped, snickering in anticipation, then recovered, "three."
The men's dazed eyes widened, then both moved forward and passionately embraced, their mouths wide open, lips pressed together, their tongues in a battle for which could go deeper. Cruz's fingers were tangled in Granger's hair, while Granger's hands had found their way to Cruz's ass, kneading it like bread dough, both of their crotches conspicuously swollen. The Lieutenant felt himself on the verge of orgasm from the spectacle before him, but knew he couldn't cum without his Master's permission. The precum, though, was oozing out at an incredible rate, making him glad that the growing stain would not show against the black spandex.
But, much as he wanted to let the performance in front of him continue, Callaway knew it could not go on longer, without potentially raising suspicions from the staff downstairs, or the two men after they returned to normal. Regretfully, he said, "Alright, guys, stop and face me. Relax and empty your minds." As the Lieutenant watched, the two men returned to their former unaroused state.
"That's better. Cruz, straighten out Granger's hair so it looks like it did before." Wordlessly complying, the Hispanic cop smoothed out his rookie partner's hair until it was as close to its original appearance as possible.
"Good job, Cruz. Wipe your hands off on your pants, to get the gel off. Hmm, that'll have to do. Now, neither of you will remember what happened in this office, only that I told you that you both did a good job on your last case. However, you WILL carry out the orders I gave you. You'll be charged up, ready to go out on patrol." he said, reinforcing the earlier suggestion. Satisfied, he offhandedly snapped his fingers, and Cruz and Granger returned to full consciousness.
"Thanks, Lieutenant," said Cruz. "Yeah, thanks, Lieutenant," said Granger.
"Sure, you did good work, and I wanted you both to know I appreciate that. OK, guys, back to work." Callaway uneasily noticed that a puzzled look was on both their faces. Cruz had one hand on his mouth, while Granger was absently licking his lips. "Something wrong?" he asked as casually as possible.
"I don't know, Lieutenant," said Cruz, frowning, "It's just . . . I've got this funny taste in my mouth."
"Me, too. Weird."
"Maybe it's . . . something you ate." T.C. barely managed with a straight face, giving an inward sigh of relief. He should never have doubted the effectiveness of the Master's plan. "Are you OK?"
"Sure, Lieutenant," said Cruz, "Never felt better."
"Yeah, me too. Criminals, beware!"
"Good. You're dismissed. Hit the streets, you two."
As they left his office, a sly grin crossed Callaway's face. He couldn't wait to see what the Master had in store for them on Friday. He also had a few ideas of his own on how to exact his revenge on the rookie who had given him so much trouble since he had arrived at the station. He was going to have to make a special trip to the food section in the next couple of days. "Let's see how hot Granger's ass really is," he said, laughing quietly to himself.
Two nights later, Bobby Cruz was thinking about how he had been looking forward to this night all week. There had been a petty crime wave, and it seemed like he had been on his bike for days, patrolling. After slipping on a tight-fitting tan tank top and a pair of khaki shorts that showed off his buffed bod at its best, he hopped into his car to pick up Russ Granger at the Party House. Aptly named, it was where Russ lived, sharing it with Jaime, a female rookie. The two men planned to hit a few clubs and unwind after the long week. Might even meet Miss Right. He knew Russ would settle for Miss Right Now, but he'd learn that casual flings got old after a while. However, Russ was only 22. He envied the younger man's freedom a little. After all, he'd had to raise his kid sister, Teresa, after their parents had been killed. Between work and taking care of Teresa, he had not had a great deal of time for himself over the last few years.
Arriving at Russ and Jaime's place, he knocked at their front door. "Hey, guys, it's me."
"Come on in, dude, door's open."
Bobby marveled at Russ's casual attitude. He's still at that I'm-totally-invincible stage of his life, Bobby mused. I just hope he survives it. At least he's gotten his drinking and gambling under some control.
This was one of the reasons the two often went out together, as it let Bobby keep an eye on the often wild younger man. Madre de Dios, soon I'll be treating him like Teresa. He's a friend, but he's NOT my responsibility for life, he reminded himself.
Walking into the spacious living room, he saw Jaime sitting on the sofa reading, while Russ was crouched behind his prize Harley. Inconveniently parked as usual in the middle of the room, Russ was cleaning it for the umpteenth time. If he only spent that kind of attention on a woman, he wouldn't still be single, Bobby thought.
Jaime looked up. "Hi, Bobby, how's . . . well, interesting fashion statement. Your idea or his?"
"What do you mean?" As Russ stood up, Bobby saw what she meant. He was wearing a snug black tank top, which showed off his tattoos, one on each upper arm, and denim cutoffs. They stared at each other, startled, as they realized that, without any planning, they had dressed nearly identically.
"Dressing down, guys?" Jaime teased.
"Hey, can't a guy be casual?" Bobby returned, recovering from the initial surprise.
"Yeah, give us a break, roomie. SOME of us don't have to spend two hours in the bathroom to look beautiful," taunted Russ.
"Fine, fine, look like bums. But you guys need all the help you can get."
Bobby watched, bemused, as Russ and Jaime continued their verbal sparring. They don't even realize they've got feelings for each other, he thought. But this is between the two of them, and I'm not about to interfere. I just hope this is over soon, so we can go out.
"I don't NEED to dress up to score. MY natural charm is more than enough."
"Is that why you spend so much time online, Passionmaster?"
"You should try it sometime. You might meet someone nice for a change."
"And what's THAT supposed to mean?"
Russ held up his hands in mock defeat, "Hey, hey, just kidding. It's your life, after all. And speaking of living, I'M planning on doing some tonight. Let's go, Bobby. See you later, roomie."
They left Jaime fuming in the living room. On the way to the car, Bobby asked, "Was that smart, Russ? I mean, you do live at the same place, and sooner or later you've gotta sleep."
"She just gets on my nerves sometimes, bro. You know how it is with roommates. I'll bet you and your sister don't get along all the time. Hmmm, I did get a little carried away back there, though, didn't I? I'll apologize when I get back. But I don't want to think about it now. Entertainment is the order of the evening. How about checking out Daynada?"
"The new club that opened on the beach? Sure! Heard it's the happening place. Let's go!"
A few minutes later, they parked a couple of blocks from the club, unable to find a closer spot.
"Looks like we picked the right place." said Bobby.
"Yeah, us and half of L.A., it looks like."
"A good sign. And look at all the pretty senoritas."
"Oh, man, look at HER." Russ pointed out a willowy blonde entering the club. "I'm in love." He staggered back a little, clutching his hands to his chest.
"Again."
"Hey, I'll have you know I'm deeply, truly romantic."
"Especially if she takes you back to her place."
"Cynic."
"I just call 'em like I see 'em."
"Whatever. I . . . Hey, what the hell am I doing, standing here talking to you, when I should be getting to know the future Mrs. Granger . . .
" . . . the future EX-Mrs. Granger."
" . . . better." Russ started walking quickly to the club, while Bobby followed him, laughing to himself. But as they reached the club entrance, a thought sprang into Bobby's head. He shot a hand out, gripping Russ' shoulder. He turned to look at Bobby quizzically. "What?" he said, with some frustration.
"You know, I just realized that we're being kind of selfish. Here we are, out having fun, while the Lieutenant's home alone."
"Yeah, so?"
"So, we should try and get him to come out with us. Make him forget about Chris for a while."
"A night out with Lieutenant T.C. "Serious" Callaway? Like we haven't seen enough of him at work. Any other brilliant ideas? Hey, why don't we check out the German Existentialist Film Festival? I'm sure that'll be a laugh an hour, too."
"Come on, have some compassion. It'll be good for him. And I heard he used to be a real wild man, before he got married."
"Callaway?! You have GOT to be kidding! And he'll probably say no anyway."
"Doesn't hurt to ask."
"OK, I give up," Russ said reluctantly, "guess it's worth a try. Don't say I didn't warn you, though."
"That's more like it, compadre! Let's go." Russ looked longingly over his shoulder as Bobby hauled him away, hoping to catch one last glimpse of the latest love of his life.
Since Callaway did not live far from Daynada, it was not too long before they reached his apartment. The two had planned to meet some of their co-workers later that evening, but chose not to tell them there might be an addition to their group, since there was no guarantee the Lieutenant would want to go. Let it be a surprise, they had decided.
Or at least thought they had decided.
Callaway seemed genuinely pleased to see them, ushering the two into his apartment. Strangely enough, they noticed he was also wearing a tank top and shorts, just like they were. But before they had a chance to comment, a man sitting on the couch in the living room stood up and walked towards them. He was about T.C.'s age, with brown hair and eyes, a medium build, and a couple of inches shorter than either Cruz or Granger. Not the kind of person who stood out in a crowd, the policeman in them could not help but note. He wore a loose black T-shirt with 'Good Things Come To Those Who Wait' on the front, baggy shorts, and was barefoot.
"And I'd like to introduce you to someone. He's been crashing here for a while. This is my best friend, Jeff."
"Nice to meet you, Jeff," said Bobby, shaking his hand, instantly liking and respecting him, "Any friend of the Lieutenant's must be good people."
"Ditto" said Russ, as he also shook Jeff's hand, unknowingly feeling exactly as Cruz did..
"Nice to meet you guys. T has told me so much about you. Sit, sit, the couch is nice and comfortable. I've been taping 'Spy Groove'; it's a new show on MTV. T and I were watching the last few episodes. Why don't you relax and check it out? I think you'll like it" The two men flopped onto the couch next to each other, looking at the television.
"It's a cartoon."
"Just keep watching, Russ. I really think it's something that will change your life." Jeff said, and then added, more quietly, "Forever."
"So, you guys want a beer?"
"Sure, Lieutenant."
"Hey, we're off duty, Bobby. It's just T.C., OK."
"Sure, T.C."
While the two men sat in the living room, Jeff and T.C. went to the kitchen. "OK, T, they're just about ready. Time to have some fun."
"Yes, Master," T.C. whispered into Jeff's left ear, "I'm ready when you are." Jeff returned to the living room, went over to the two men sitting on the sofa and leaned between them. "Enjoying the program, Bobby?"
"Yes, it's interesting," said Bobby, somewhat flatly.
"How about you, Russ?"
"It's . . . very . . . . . . good." Russ said, as if finding even simple words to be an effort.
"One of the things I like about it is how the heroes keep getting mind controlled. And it's very relaxing, isn't it? Very soothing." Jeff bent his head forward further, looking to his right into Russ's face, then to his left into Bobby's. Their glassy eyes were intently fixed on the screen before them, their heads nodding in silent agreement to Jeff's question. He glanced over at the TV set, a Cheshire Cat grin spreading across his face. He had, understandably, immunized himself against the effects of the Modifier. Returning his attention to the mesmerized officers, he continued. "So, you two are having a night out on the town, hmm? I bet you Studbabies must be feeling amazingly horny right about now."
Russ and Bobby froze for a few moments, then started rubbing their crotches, which were noticeably enlarging. "Yeah, Jeff." said Bobby, "I haven't been able to get off for days."
"Me, neither, dude," moaned Russ, "I'm about ready to explode."
"Well, relief is here, boys. You don't have to go out. Why don't you whip 'em out and start playing with them right here? But before you do that," he said as both men started to unzip themselves, "call me by my title, Russ."
"Whatever you say, Master."
"Now you, Bobby."
"Of course, Master." The conditioning was now complete and irrevocable. The two cops totally belonged to him.
"Go ahead, boys." he said, patting them both on the head like the faithful puppies they now were. Russ and Bobby now rushed to finish unzipping, pulling out their now painfully hard members, and started beating off.
"Come on, T, the party's started." T.C. entered and sat in a chair across from the two men, then Jeff sat in T.C.'s lap. Russ and Bobby had their eyes closed, moaning as they played with themselves, while T.C. caressed Jeff's body. Jeff was totally getting off on now having three able-bodied police officers at his complete command. He relaxed for a while; enjoying the show he had created.
Eventually, though, it was time for the next stage. "Ok, boys, that's enough. Let go, and look at me." The two cops frowned as their hands fell to their sides, then they opened their eyes and looked at Jeff.
"As you can see, boys, your Lieutenant is my lover. Aren't you, T?"
"Yes, Jeff. That and so much more."
"What else are you?"
"I'm your slave, Master."
"You certainly are. And what are you, Russ?"
"I'm SO your slave, Master."
"How about you, Bobby?"
"I'm your slave, too, Master."
"That's what I like to hear, boys. Now," Jeff said as he rose out of T.C.'s lap, "follow me."
Jeff led the three men to T.C.'s bedroom. Once there, he commanded, "Everybody, naked and ready for inspection." While Jeff undressed, the three men quickly shucked all their clothes. Before he had finished, the officers were standing at attention, hands behind their backs, nude and throbbing.
Walking around them, Jeff let his gaze travel up and down the length of T.C.'s tall, solid form. Familiarity may breed contempt, but I haven't grown tired of him yet, he thought lasciviously, before looking at his two newest acquisitions.
Bobby's body showed how much time he had spent working out, though not to excess. His strong neck led down to broad shoulders, brawny arms, hairless torso with well-formed pecs each crowned with a dark dime-sized erect nipple, finely carved abs, half a foot of hard hefty Hispanic manhood, a firm and highly round butt, and powerful legs, all emphasized by his dusky cocoa skin.
Russ, conversely, was more wiry. His long swanlike neck rested on sinewy shoulders. Jeff traced each of the tattoos on his upper arms, causing Russ to shiver in anticipation. His smooth chest was not as large, but the muscles there were more sharply defined. Also 6 inches, he was not as wide as Bobby, but more veiny. His butt was smaller, his legs leaner. Perhaps the most noticeable difference was his utter lack of a tan line. He is the daring, adventurous one, thought Jeff. Have to find out how, and where, he gets that really nice all-over tan. He also noted that his own 9 inch member was the longest among them.
Finishing his inspection, he stood in front of his police lineup.
"Tonight, Bobby, you're going to be my puta. Is that alright?" Jeff asked rhetorically.
"Oh, yes, Master, let me be your puta. Use me like the whore that I am, please."
"And Russ, you're going to let the Lieutenant do whatever he likes with you, OK?"
"Of course, Master, if that's what you want."
"Don't get all dark and brooding." Jeff reached across with one hand, lightly lifting Russ's chin, contemplating the taciturn face. "I have to admit, though, that even sulking, you're still sexy. Oh, do I see that frown trying to turn upside down? Well, I'll make you feel even better. After he's done, I'll be having my way with you."
"Thank you, Master, thank you so much." Russ said with relief, his face beaming.
"You could do toothpaste commercials with that smile, Russ. I look forward to seeing it much more often. Now, Officer Cruz, step forward. Good." Jeff grabbed the back of Bobby's head, pulling it forward. Lips parted, tongues intertwined. Brawny arms encircling his waist, Jeff soon was being crushed closer as Bobby's hunger grew. Yanking back, he said, "That's enough for now, Officer Cruz. Back in line." Bobby did so with regret, yearning for more.
"Officer Granger, next." This time, Jeff brought his hands to either side of the face of the man before him, drawing it to him. Granger's style was more gentle, yet no less arousing than Cruz's. The rookie melted into Jeff, his hands everywhere, exploring every inch of his Master. Almost lost with Granger, Jeff had to remind himself that the night was just beginning, and other diversions were awaiting. Turning his head sideways, he whispered, "Much as I'd love to do this all night, Russ, I don't want to neglect T and Bobby." Russ nodded and returned to the lineup, the appetite in his eyes for more apparent.
"Now, you haven't been able to come because I haven't given you permission. You have to earn that permission, and you've both made a very good start. But I want T to demonstrate how he first proved his devotion." T.C. unhesitatingly knelt before Jeff and began displaying all the skills he had been taught. Russ and Bobby craned their necks forward, avidly watching, taking in every detail.
T.C.'s technique had Jeff on the edge in minutes. "Stop, T! Gotta leave some for later. Now, just stand back and let's see how well these two were paying attention." The other two were on their knees as soon as T.C. stood back. Both tried to take in the head, glaring at each other as their mouths fought for the privilege of taking in their Master completely.
"Boys, boys, there's enough there for both of you. I want to see cooperation. Have fun with each other, while you're at it."
Nodding, they began licking their way up and down Jeff's cock, their tongues tasting each other as much as Jeff. Glancing up from the worship being given him, he saw T.C. had moved to a dresser and was opening one of the drawers, taking out what looked like a small jar. Seeing his Master's curiosity, T.C. paused. A smile crossed the lieutenant's face as he nodded towards Russ, who was far too engrossed to notice anything but the feast before him, mouthed, "For later," waggling his eyebrows wickedly. Jeff grinned back at him, mouthed back "OK." He returned his gaze to the spectacle at his feet. Resting his hands on their heads, he closed his eyes, drifting on a river of succulent gratification.
Opening his eyes a timeless moment later, a motion caught Jeff's attention. T.C., he saw, was wearing a rubber glove on his right hand, twirling a set of handcuffs on an index finger, smirking. He also had a condom on his rigid dick. Looking down at Granger, then back at Jeff, he asked soundlessly, "Can I?" Jeff, curious, nodded.
T.C. strolled over, grabbed the arms of the unaware officer, wrenched them behind his back, and quickly cuffed him.
"Hey, what the . . ."
"On your feet, Granger." he said huskily, roughly dragging the young cop up. "Remember what the Master said? Well, you're all mine now, rookie."
"Bobby." Still kneeling, Cruz looked at Jeff questioningly, having been distracted by T.C. "What's wrong with this picture?" Realization dawned, and he engulfed the pulsing pole before him, no longer having to share it with Russ. He soon was oblivious to anything else.
T.C. slammed Russ against a wall, pressing the side of his face into it, the plaster cool on his chest and cheek, the rest of his body on fire.
"You've been a real pain in my ass since you've been in my department, you know that, Granger?" T.C. stuck the index and middle fingers of his gloved hand into the jar he had placed there earlier. Small and clear, it was filled with a jelly-like substance with a slightly greenish tint. He took the goo and rubbed it on his condom-covered cock. "Payback time, rookie."
Without another word, he shoved all the way into Granger with one thrust. The rookie howled, though the pain of the unaccustomed intrusion was not as severe as it would have been without the lubrication. Then he cried out as a burning sensation began permeating his ass.
"Thought I'd make things more interesting, so I added a little something to the KY. Jalapeno pepper sauce. Like it, Passionmaster?"
Jeff's jaw dropped in shock. That's crazy, he thought. Granger could get seriously hurt, I've got to stop this. But he hesitated, realizing that. T.C. wouldn't do anything that would cause serious injury to any of his slaves without permission. Fucking with spicy KY jelly was probably not as bad as using soap, he concluded, now amused at T.C.'s creativity. He sat down to watch, Bobby's oral worship continuing unabated.
T.C. pulled Russ's hips back, so only his face remained against the wall, then commenced to unmercifully ram into the rookie. Russ groaned, letting out occasional yelps from the pain of his deflowering, and the stinging from the adulterated lubrication. He did not struggle, however, because the Master had told him to do what the Lieutenant wanted, and he was incapable of disobedience. T.C. periodically reapplied more of the viscous stuff as it dried out, until Russ' ass blazed like a volcano and tears ran from his eyes.
Turning his attention away from the torrid twosome, Jeff eased Bobby off him. "That was very good, Bobby. I think you're ready for your real initiation." Understanding, the Hispanic hunk rose, his cheeks dimpling as he smiled, an insatiable glow in his eyes as he sat in Jeff's lap slowly, impaling himself on his Master. "Thaaat's it. Keep going, just a little bit more. Ahhhh, perfect. Let me look at you. You're in such superb shape, my little puta. Now, up and down. Good, very good. Flex your biceps, one at a time. Unnnh, talk to me, baby, tell me how much you like it."
"I love you inside me. I am your puta, Master. Fuck me like the whore that I am. Mas, mas, mas!" As he rose, Bobby flexed his right arm, his bicep swelling. Going down, he let the arm relax. Going up again, the left arm flexed. Down, and it relaxed. Up, right arm flex, down, up, left arm flex, down. His thighs and calves also were bulging from the exercise. He had spent long hours getting and staying in shape, and now those hours were paying off in the pleasure he was bringing to his Master.
Meanwhile, T.C.'s pace had slackened. "So, rookie, had enough yet?"
"Ohhhh, ahhhh, yes, Lieutenant. Please, uhhhh, stop. Hurts."
Carefully pulling out, he took off the condom and tossed it in a nearby wastebasket, where the rubber glove soon joined it. He immediately put on another glove, dipped two fingers in another jar standing next to the first one, then stuck them into Russ's ass. A shudder of relief spread through him as the cooling ointment soothed his searingly abused ass.
But T.C. was far from finished, merely changing his modus operandi. He let the other man rest against the wall for a few minutes, allowing the healing salve to do its work. He put on another condom, to protect against any remains of the spicy KY. Then he put an elbow around Russ' neck. "Didn't think you were getting off that easy, did you? I'm not done with you yet." Bringing him to the bed, T.C. turned him around, pushed him so he was lying face up on the mattress, his hands still cuffed behind him, then put the rookie cop's ankles on his own broad shoulders. "This time, though, we should both have more fun," he said, penetrating Russ's ass more gradually this time.
"Bobby, do a 180, I want you to see this." Obeying his Master, he got up, and turned around until he was looking at the bed. Jeff's hands on his hips then guided him down until he had has Master completely inside him once more. This time, Jeff held him down, making Bobby move his hips back and forth, or in a circle. "Mmm, Bobby, that feels nice. Keep doing that while we watch the show."
Russ was starting to feel much better. The ointment had dulled his discomfort, and T.C.'s more languorous rhythm allowed him to enjoy himself. T.C. bent over, tonguing one nipple, then the other, sending wonderful tremors through him. Before he knew it, he was thrusting back against T.C. as much as his position allowed.
The heady aroma of sweat and sex filled the room, mixed with the sound of lust-filled groans and erotic murmurs. Before long, Jeff was once again at the precipice, now ready to fall off and drown in the ocean of orgasm. "Can't, unnnh, hold out much longer. Everyone, on the, unnnh, count of three." The three cops increased their pace in anticipation. "One, unnnh, two, ohhhh, three!!!" T.C. folded almost in half, anxious not to miss one drop of the milky juices Russ had wanted to release for weeks. Soon his condom began to fill, while at the same time he desperately swallowed the torrent gushing from the young rookie, who was squirming and whimpering in ecstasy. Bobby, a string of Spanish curses and imprecations to a host of saints pouring out of his mouth, sprayed over his own chest and legs, Jeff's legs, with some landing on the floor. Seeing and hearing his slaves' prompt and total compliance so graphically displayed was the final trigger, causing Jeff to shoot what felt like an endless stream into Bobby.
Finally, drained, the dazed and dizzy Latino collapsed back onto Jeff's chest. T.C. fell on Russ, but eventually extricated himself. Getting the key from a cabinet next to the bed, he uncuffed Russ, who stretched his arms over his head.
"That was unreal, man, but, oww! My shoulders hurt worse than my ass."
"Here, let me massage them."
"No, T, let's let Bobby do it."
"If you say so, Master.
"I need to talk to you about something anyway, T." said Jeff, walking over to the bedroom door, "Back in a minute, boys."
In the hallway, T.C. asked, "Did I do something wrong, Master? Was the jalapeno jelly too much?"
"If it had been, I would have said something sooner. No, I have to say that I admire your initiative. That was truly wicked. I wish I'd thought of it. Might even try it myself sometime. In fact, I think it earns you an extra special privilege. You don't need to call me Master anymore, T, unless I ask you to. Just call me Jeff. Don't look surprised, and don't worry. It doesn't change our relationship. Believe me, it will make me happy."
"If you say so, Ma . . . Jeff."
"That's better. The other thing I wanted to tell you is to wait in the living room for a bit. I'm going to try something special on those two, and you'll need to be out of hearing range. Count to 100, then come back into the bedroom and we'll be ready."
Reappearing alone, Jeff saw that Bobby, sitting tailor-fashion, was behind Russ, kneading his shoulders, while the younger cop was slowly rotating his head, eyes closed.
"Feeling better?"
"Yes, Master. Bobby gives a great massage."
"I'm glad. I want you to feel good, you know." Now, Jeff thought, let's see how well LII works. "You know, though, to serve me you'll have to keep studying hard, or hardon-ly studying."
Bobby's hands fell off Russ's shoulders, whose head dropped to his chest as both immediately slipped into a trance. "Russ, open your eyes and lift up your head. Now, guys, turn so you're facing each other. Get really close, and look into each other's eyes." They scooted nearer until their faces were inches apart. Jeff looked back to make sure that T.C. had not returned, then said, softly and carefully, "Love-in-idleness."
The two men's eyes cleared as they emerged from their trance. Then they opened further as they looked at each other. "I love you!" they both shouted.
"Oh, mi corazon, you don't know how much I want you!"
"Not half as much as I want you, Bobby." The two embraced and started deeply kissing each other. Soon, they were in a tangle of limbs.
"Yoo-hoo, boys, I'm still here." The two quickly disengaged and turned their attention to Jeff, though they remained locked in each other's embrace, as though they could not bear to be away from each other's touch.
This was, indeed, the case. The 'Love-In-Idleness' phrase, inspired by the mythical flower Shakespeare used in 'A Midsummer Night's Dream', caused the programmed listener to fall in love, and lust, with the first person they saw. The two cops hopelessly, helplessly adored each other. Their desire and devotion was absolute, exceeded only by their obedience to Jeff.
"I'll forgive you, since I'm such a sentimentalist. But you're going to have to keep your feelings for each other hidden, for now. Bobby, I'm going to give you a Modifier to put in your TV at home. After your young sister watches for a while, you won't have anymore of the problems that you've had with her lately, and she won't care what you do, either. Once she's brought around to our way of thinking, Russ, you'll be able to move in with Bobby. Then you'll be able to carry on together as you please, and Teresa will be as happy about it as you want. In the meantime, since I know how much you two need each other, you'll come over here to T's apartment at least three times a week. You'll be able to express all your feelings for each other, and engage in any twisted fantasies I may cook up for you two. Oh, and you'll help me convert more people, as you yourselves were converted. Got all that?"
"Yes, I . . . "
"I complete . . . "
"You go, Russ."
"No, you go, Bobby. If it's OK with you, Master, while he's talking, could I . . . " Russ licked his lips, looking hungrily at Bobby.
"Why not? I don't want to stand in the way of true love. Just keep your ears open as well as your mouth."
"Yes, Master. Mmmmm. . ."
"Go ahead, Bobby."
"Yes, Master. First, thank you for helping Russ and I find each other . . . mmm, don't stop, lover . . . Of course I'll be happy to help Teresa see the right way of thinking, and anyone else, too. And Russ and I can be discreet . . . oh, muy bien, muy muy bien . . . until we can move in together. We'll do whatever you want, whenever you want it done . . . hey, that tickles! I think we'll be over EVERY night, won't we . . . Russ, no teeth. And not so fast. That's better, mi corazon. They don't call you Passionmaster for nothing, uhhhh . . . "
"How about you, Russ?" asked Jeff.
"Mmmm-HMMMM!" Russ moaned enthusiastically, raised his head a few inches from Bobby's lap, adding, "What he said," then quickly descended, open-mouthed, working to show the intensity of his love for the man who had, until his Master had revealed the truth, been merely a fellow officer.
"Good. I think it's time for round two. Bobby, hang your head over the foot of the bed. Russ, don't stop what you're doing . . . oh, right, like you would," Jeff chuckled. "T, get me a condom, then let Bobby suck you. Now, since Russ is so perfectly positioned, I think I'll have a turn at the ass you so excellently broke in for me." Moments later, T.C.'s dick was tickling Bobby's tonsils, and Jeff was hammering into Russ, who was beyond bliss. After all, he was giving head to his true love and being fucked by his true Master. Jeff, stroking the sweat-soaked Granger's back, just knew that finding all sorts of uses for his newest cop slaves was going to be very rewarding.
THE END for now