On Monday Bodie went to work with a brand new attitude. He was definitely seeing his coworkers in a new light, but he found it hard to get any work done. By the time 3:00 rolled around and he left for his mentoring appointment with Mr. Sterling, he was feeling pretty frustrated.

He said as much when John Stirling had seated him in his office and asked how he thought things were going.

“Well, you’re not the only one who’s frustrated, boy. I’ve just had a chat with your supervisor.” His face looked grim. “He’s not happy, Bodie. And neither am I.”

Bodie’s frustration shifted to alarm. “Why? What did he say?” He cringed inside.

“Apparently, you were even less productive than before, and worse, he says you were skulking around and creeping people out.” Sterling glowered. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

The words, though not loud, carried the force of an angry shout.

“Uh, uh, I, um, I ... I don’t know ... I...” Bodie sputtered helplessly, stripped of any shred of confidence. “I tried to do what you said ... I...” His voice faded.

Sterling just stared at him for a minute as if he’d discovered a turd on the carpet. Finally he spoke softly with the steely resolve of a bearer of tragic news.

“Oh, you did what I told you? Tell me, how have you served? What did you do today to help your teammates? How have you advanced corporate interests or your boss’s agenda? By meddling in other peoples work and acting like a perv?” He shook his head. “You disgust me.”

Bodie was devastated. He had let his idol down, the one man he needed to please. What was wrong with him? Stirling’s question echoed relentlessly in the empty cavern of his hollowed-out mind...

“What do you have to say for yourself?” Stirling demanded.

Bodie stared blankly, panicked. What could he say? Say something, anything ... his mind tried to prompt him. He hung his head, tears welling up, choking him.

“I ... I just was ... I did what you said,” he repeated. Trying to explain, he added, “You know, people ... cocks and pussies ... like you said.” He was whining pathetically. Even he could hear the pathos.

John thought it was time for the truth.

“Well, boy, that means I’ve failed. So, I’m afraid we’re through.” He shook his head sadly “And you’re probably going to lose your job,” he added. “I would certainly recommend it.”

Bodie panicked. “No, wait!” He staggered out of his chair. “Don’t give up on me, please!”

The desperation, the aching need for Stirling’s approval, and the deep desire to worship him and his manhood overwhelmed him.

“Please give me another chance! I’ll do anything ... please ... anything you want.” He was on his knees, reaching out to grasp Sterling’s legs. “Please, he sobbed. Burying his face between the strong thighs of his mentor, his tears dampened the fine woolen fabric.

“Get off of me, you pathetic worm,” John growled, pushing him away.

Bodie slumped, a limp heap on the office floor.

Rebuffed and rejected, Bodie looked up at the man towering over him, strong and resolute, and felt the anguish of complete despair. I am useless to him, he realized. Letting go of his last hope had an effect on him, though: a sudden surge of sexual desire swept over him, giving him just enough reckless spirit to object.

“But you said I could be your cocksucker,” he whined. “You said!”

Stirling’s glare was a rebuke in itself, but he nevertheless condescended to reply. “What makes you think you are worthy of sucking the cock of a real man, let alone mine?”

Bodie crawled toward him, begging. “Please, please, I’ll do anything. I don’t care about the stupid job any more. I just want to be your cocksucker.”

He put his lips to John’s left shoe and kissed it. Tears were running down his face, beading on the highly glossed shine. He looked up, way up, to Stirling’s face high above him. And he began to comprehend.

It dawned on him, a man like that? Why would so exalted a being let someone like me even touch his glorious cock? I am worthless., he realized. Even so, he needed Stirling, he felt it viscerally. He was grasping at straws.

“ ... or anything you want ... Please. Just let me be near you.”

He kissed the shoe again, his hands clutching John’s ankles desperately. “I could shine your shoes for you.” That bright idea dawned on him when he tasted the polished leather.

His mind raced. “Let me work for you. I’ll do anything. The most menial things, anything.”

His imagination stirred. “Let me do whatever you need. You don’t even have to pay me. Being near you is enough. All I need is food and a place to sleep. I’ll work for you ‘round the clock, at your beck and call ... Just don’t send me away! Please!”

If Bodie hadn’t been prostrated at the feet of the older man, he might have noticed the glint of satisfaction in Stirling’s eye as he shook Bodie off of his leg and stepped back.

“Stirp, boy. Completely naked.”

Bodie stirred, but hesitant, surprised.

“Now!”

Bodie got up on his knees and began unbuttoning his shirt, each button faster than the last.

“You’re going to have to be broken, boy,” Stirling announced. “There’s no other way. You proved that today. You aren’t capable of adapting on your own, so I’m going to have to break you down and rebuild you.”

Bodie was on his feet now pulling down his pants and underpants, not really comprehending what Stirling was saying. He was too dizzy with hope. Sitting on the chair, he pulled off his shoes, pants, and socks, and stood up facing his mentor. His 6-inch cock was at full mast, pulsing steadily with his fervid heartbeat.

John Stirling’s face remained impassive as appraised the young man. He’s pretty, John opined, not athletic, but slim and well proportioned ... not much body hair except for his pubic bush, just a shade darker than the light brown hair on his head ... nice dick, well shaped, almost perfectly straight, circumcised, its pink plum-like crown pointing heavenward. Although not muscular, his shoulders were broad and his waist trim, a distinctly masculine frame.

“Face the wall.”

Yes, the boy’s ass was perfect: slim hips supporting lovely soft, round globes with a cleft just asking to be penetrated.

“Turn back around, boy.” John ordered, his voice less stern now. “From now on, you will do exactly as you’re told. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir!” Bodie replied eagerly, his hard cock bobbing excitedly.

“You will not speak without my permission.”

Bodie nodded, smart enough to not respond verbally.

“I will begin your training now. It will involve pain and other things that you may not like. It’s for your own good. I am explaining this to you now because once I begin, your wants and needs, your very existence as a person, will be given no consideration whatsoever.”

Bodie nodded again, his fear and his arousal mingled in excited anticipation.

“Give me your belt.”

Bodie stooped, retrieved his trousers, pulled the belt free of the beltloops, and handed it to Sterling, not daring to meet his eyes.

“Turn around and put your hands on the wall, up, high as you can.”

Bodie complied.

“Spread your legs.” Bodie guessed what was going to happen, but he was in no way prepared.

Sterling gave him a dozen hard strokes with the belt. Holding it by the buckle, John swung the belt with deft accuracy, using his whole body to accelerate the stinging leather sharply onto its target. The first two blows crisscrossed the pale globes of his ass with red welts.

Bodie gasped but did not cry out. Stirling continued working his way methodically up the boy’s back, leaving stripes like big red Xs all the way to his shoulders. Bodie was whimpering through gritted teeth, his tears flowing copiously when the last blow fell.

John was exhilarated. The exercise of power over the helpless boy, the physical exertion, and the beauty of his handiwork had satisfied him immensely and erotically.

“Do you still want my cock?”

His back aflame and trying to control his tears, Bodie was nevertheless fully aroused.

“Oh, yes! More than anything!”

“Kneel on the chair, boy. Bend over the back of it,” he commanded.

Stirling undid his fly and pulled out his nine-inch weapon. Then he spit on his hand, rubbed it on his cock, lined it up, and rammed it deep, almost three quarters of its length, deep into Bodie’s ass.

Bodie screamed.

“Shut up, boy!” Stirling said, pulling all the way out and ramming it home again, all the way this time, its girth stretching Bodie’s pucker to new widths.

Bodie groaned a quiet but desperate animal moan then, and then again when Stirling repeated his thrust, doing it over and over, faster and faster, deep, full-length thrusts, long-dicking the boy into submission, pounding him, pistoning, plowing him under, and making him cry like a baby even as he moaned like a whore, until the end came with a final thrust held deep.

And John Stirling’s hot seed pumped deep into Bodie’s virgin guts.

By then, Bodie had either gotten used to the pain in his bowels or else it had faded and been replaced by sensuous pleasure, the feeling of friction from the older man’s rigid flesh thrusting in and out through his tight anal ring.

Either way, Bodie was giddy with post-orgasmic euphoria, having discovered as he slumped off the chair to the floor, that the chair-back had been deluged with his own cum. He wondered as he felt Stirling’s cum begin to dribble out of his well used hole, which of them had shot a bigger load.

Stirling, also feeling the elation of a most satisfying fuck, saw it too and marveled. Only a true masochist would get that turned on by the abuse he had just been dealt.

“Get up, boy,” he commanded. “Pick up your clothes. And clean up that disgusting mess you left on the chair. Use your shirt to wipe it up.”

When the cum had been removed, Stirling took Bodie’s pants and searched the pockets: a wallet, a phone, some keys on a small ring, and some odd change. He placed these on the desk and tossed the trousers back to Bodie.

“Throw all your stuff away; here’s a garbage can. Shoes too.”

When Bodie had stuffed all his possessions into the waste-paper bin, Stirling gave him a final order.

“There’s a bathroom down the hall. Go there and wait.”

The room was small, just a toilet and a sink. If the sink hadn’t been a pedestal-type, there wouldn’t have been enough room to even lie on the floor.

The door closed behind him and he heard the sound of a key turning in the lock. I guess I’m going to be here a while, he thought.

He lay down to wait it out, drawing his legs up to fit himself in the cramped space. The cold tiles of the floor soothed his still fevered body. He listened for sounds of his mentor/master ... He could hear a voice faintly, but could not make out the words.

“Hi, Sammy, this is John.”... “Yes, good. Really good, in fact. Much faster than expected.”... “Yeah, definitely!”... “Listen, I’m going to need the paperwork tomorrow morning. Can you do that?”... “How about nine o’clock?”... “Great! I’ll fill you in then. Thanks!”