The Trainer

By Alex Ironrod

This is a special adaptation of the opening chapters of “The Trainer” by Alex Ironrod for MetalbondNYC,com, posted here by special permission.

PART ONE – BASIC TRAINING

I owe my life to one man. my life – and much more. He saved me. He trained me. He educated me. He loved me and had to let me go. Shit, how much I regret never having told him I loved him – until it was too late.

My name is Dave Coyle. My real life started only a year ago, when I met Mike Harrow. I was a mess. I had been doing drugs, when I could find the money. When we met, I was homeless, living on the streets. One summer morning, I was desperate enough to try to hold up this convenience store. You know the kind. They sell everything from liquor to washing powder. Anyway, I stuck this thick stick under my grubby tee shirt, and picked a quiet mid-morning time, after the breakfast rush.

I was lucky, the place seemed empty. So, I marched up to the counter and growled at the clerk, “OK, this is a stick-up. Hand over your cash right now or I’ll blow you to….”

The doorbell chimed, as a customer came through the double doors. I saw a dark blue uniform and mirrored sunglass. The cop, the clerk and I froze for a nano-second. Then the door chimes rang again, for another customer and distracted the policeman. So, I raced for the other door.

I was in the parking lot, past the police cruiser, headed down the alley so fast; my mind spun, and my heart pounded. I’d been good at sports in college, but my present lifestyle didn’t encourage 200-yard sprints. I could hear footsteps behind me, as a voice bellowed, “Hold it, kid. This isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

“Screw you,” I thought as I reached the end of that alleyway. Now panting heavily, I stumbled into an adjoining one, only to see a tall, wire-mesh fence in my way. I crashed into it; my lungs were bursting. As I scrambled to get over, the policeman grasped onto me. He pulled me down to the ground; then he wrestled my arm behind me, with one hand and grabbed his handcuffs with the other. I was too exhausted to offer any resistance. I hadn’t had that much exercise in months. In no time the cop had me upright and manacled.

Alex IronrodHe read me my rights, as he patted me down. Fortunately, my stick “gun” had fallen out of my well-worn tee shirt. It seemed to me that the cop took an extra second, caressing my cock and balls; then he moved behind to feel my ass cheeks. To my surprise, my prick started to respond. He moved back up; checking waist, chest, and finally my mouth.

“Christ, you’re not a kid! Though you’re sure skinny enough. How old are you?”

“Twenty-one,” I replied sulkily.

“What the shit did you think you were doing, back there in the store? You’re fortunate you didn’t really have a gun. Antics like that can get you put away for at least three years. Ever spent time in jail?”

“No, I just needed money. I didn’t think.”

“For more fucking drugs? I see the tracks on your arms. You look bright enough, under the dirt. Why don’t you have a regular job?”

I finally looked at him. The cop was taller and broader than I, about 6’2″ I guessed. To my surprise, he looked only two or three years older than me. His face seemed friendlier than I expected. No one had shown me any attention or sympathy in so long, that the dam broke.

“OK, yes, I am a fucking idiot to try it. It’s the first time I’ve ever tried a robbery. I fucked up, okay? Yes, I need money for drugs. What else is there? I used to be a pure vanilla citizen. I was going to college, and lived at home, with loving parents. Now they are dead. They were killed in a car crash, along with my girlfriend. I was the driver. I am the only one that survived.

“Worse, it was all my fault. I was pissed with my folks for wanting me to continue to live at home. I wanted to be free to live how and where I pleased. As usual I wouldn’t listen to reason. Mary was adding her take on the subject as I had sped up in the car. I missed the sudden turn in the road and crashed into a concrete road block. I blacked out and came to alone in the hospital, in pain and feeling sorry for myself.

“The hospital got me so fucked-up. They pumped me full of drugs. I liked how they made me feel. So, I kept doing them. What else am I supposed to do? God, how I miss them and Julie.” My voice wobbled as I blinked back unexpected tears.

“Well, let’s get you back to the car and down to the station. We’ll talk some more there. My name’s Harrow, by the way,” he pointed to his name badge, “Officer Michael Harrow.”

“Thanks for listening. I’m Dave Coyne.”

He marched me back up the alley, stumbling and cuffed. We passed the small crowd gathered in front of the convenience store. “Into the back seat, Coyne Watch your head,” Harrow ordered. “I’m going into the store to speak to the clerk for a moment.”

The crowd peered into the windows for a minute or two. Then they drifted away. The excitement was over. When Officer Harrow came back and started the car, he looked pleased with himself. “If you really are a first offender, the clerk says they won’t prosecute you. You might be lucky. We’ve got a new program going in the PD.  We’ll check your record and see.”

I spent a couple of hours in the station. I sat cuffed to a hard bench. Reports were made, forms were filled out, fingerprints taken, and records checked. I was really hungry, my head ached, and my throat was dry. Harrow came back with some cool water. He bent over slightly, saying, “The lieutenant wants to check you out,” Then he took off the handcuffs, and led me into the corridor of little offices. A tall, harassed-looking, but sharp-eyed, older man was sitting behind a desk, piled high with folders. Mine was in front of him.

“OK, Coyne, you can sit down. Mike, stay a minute, will you? This is your idea. You seem to have a clean record, young man, and the store doesn’t want to prosecute.

“We could release you into our new parole program. You would have to agree to spending six months minimum, living in the home of one of our officers. Most importantly, you will need to enroll, as an outpatient, in a detox program. In addition, the officer must agree to look after you He would be responsible for sheltering you. Before the program is over, should you participate, the officer would also be responsible for helping you find a job.

“I am willing to take a gamble on you. Officer Harrow here has agreed to take you on. I guess you’re another one of his ‘causes.’ if you ask me. Are you willing to give it a try, Dave?”

“Yes, sir, I am.” I surprised myself, going into this blind. At least someone was showing an interest in me and my future again.

“Sign these forms then; down at the bottom of the page. Okay, officer, you can take him away. You better start by cleaning him up.” The lieutenant smiled as he stacked the papers and Mike ushered me away.

Officer Harrow had a neat house in the suburbs. There was a small garden and yard. No matter the size, it appeared well cared-for. He parked his car in the garage, next to a gleaming Harley Softail Classic. There was no patter of tiny feet as we walked in, no welcoming woman’s voice. “I live alone,” he answered my unspoken question, “I’m homosexual, but you’re old enough to look after yourself. Let’s begin with that ratty, scraggly hair of yours, and then into the shower. I imagine some food would make you feel better.”

He sat me down at the kitchen table. My dirty blond curls were soon falling on the floor. “Yes, I’ve done this before. In fact, I still trim some of the other guys’ hair on a regular basis. Here, swallow this protein drink, before you get in the shower.” The hot water warmed my dirty, tired body. I reveled in the luxury as I scrubbed and rubbed myself.

“Come on out, boy. Let’s see if there’s any improvement.” Harrow had changed into black leather shorts and tank top. He was holding a large, thick towel and started to dry me off. Suddenly he stopped. I looked up at the image of both of us in the full-length bathroom mirror. It was a double shock. I looked like my old self, at six-foot, slim with little fat. My skin glowed. My blond hair was now short on top and sides. Life seemed to be creeping back to my face. Behind me stood this muscle-packed body, well-proportioned and buffed. Officer Harrow had a strong jaw, dark hair and mustache, pug nose, and twinkling dark blue eyes.

We both looked at ourselves in the mirror. Our pricks were rising, quite unbidden; with his still disguised in his leather shorts. Harrow suddenly pushed me away. “Do you have any other clothes or gear?’

“I had a couple of suitcases at the Y on 17th street. I had to leave them behind, when they kicked me out, two weeks ago. I couldn’t store them, living on the street.”

“Alright. Finish drying off. I’ll put out some of my things, that should fit. Then come join me in the kitchen. I’ll rustle up some food.”

Now clad in a clean tee shirt and shorts, I could hear my one grubby outfit churning in the washing machine. I ambled into the kitchen to help. The light caught the cop’s top. I looked more closely. It was made of shiny rubber and ended at his leather shorts.

“Yes, it’s rubber.” he smiled at me, “It’s one of my fetishes, along with leather. I wear them most of the time when I’m off-duty. You can try some on later, if you’d like. Now work on making the salad. The burgers are ready. You definitely need to eat up.”

The meal was great. I was hungry. The evening then went downhill, big time. My craving for drugs returned quickly with nausea. I started to shiver, uncontrollably. My head and body ached. I heaved up part of my dinner.

“Let’s go and lie down,” Harrow suggested. “I can’t give you any more crack. Take this. It’s non-narcotic but should help to lessen the pain and calm you. Also I give great back rubs.”

He led me into his bedroom. He pulled off my borrowed tee shirt, settling me on the bed and began to give me a back rub. He kneaded my stiff and aching muscles, before he lay down beside me. Holding my shivering and groaning body in his strong arms, his fingers soothed my forehead and face. His rubber-and-leather-covered body warmed my tired limbs. Slowly, I drifted away to sleep. I felt safe and protected by this man whom I hardly knew.

PART TWO – SEX TRAINING

In the morning, Officer Harrow was up early. A tracksuit was covering his full rubber outfit. “I’m going for my morning run. Shouldn’t be too long. Do you want to come along?” I wasn’t sure, but the night’s deep sleep had helped. Besides I felt I had to do it, because he cared enough to ask.

I was pathetic, stumbling along at little more than a walk. Harrow would race on ahead and then double back, circling and encouraging me. Then we were back home for a healthy breakfast. After breakfast, he delivered me to the detox center, at the hospital, on his way to work.

That became the pattern of our lives. The first month was sheer hell, for me. I was quitting cold turkey. I lost more weight, developed sores and experienced more nausea. My moods shifted from either zonked out or intensely irritable. The nurses at the hospital were wonderful; but it was Mike who saved me. He soothed, he bullied, he hugged, and he patted. Officer Harrow forced the right food and pills into me daily. All because he seemed to believe I could lick it and made me believe it too.

Every morning, we would go for a run on the track. Every evening, we worked out on his home gym equipment. He bought me some new clothes He held me and caressed me when the sweating and shivering fits took over. He cleaned up my puke. He kept me alive. Oh, there was that odd night, when he would don his leathers, fire up the Harley and roar off into the night. I knew that needed relief as well. I was content to doze on the bed, knowing he would be back.

***

After about six weeks, we went out at the track. I ran three laps, over a mile, with Mike pacing me. I felt alive again and jumped for joy. He jumped to high-five me. We stumbled into each other’s arms. Without hesitating, I kissed him firmly, forcing my tongue into his surprised mouth.

I felt like I was starting to love this man, any man for the first time. I’d fallen for a policeman, who had devoted weeks of his time to nurturing and caring for me night and day. I felt strange, new emotions for someone scarcely older than me. A man who had pulled me out of the pit. What could he want from a partly reformed punk like me? And what did I have to give him in return? Nothing was my answer. No, that wasn’t exactly true. I had myself. I could offer him my body and soul.

“Let’s go home,” I murmured, breaking off the kiss. “I want to climb onto your big bed and give myself to you. I’ve no experience with man-sex. But if you want someone badly enough, it can’t be that hard. I don’t know how you feel about me, but I need you, maybe feel your penis inside me.  Look at my cock wriggling in my shorts.”

Mike had the strangest smile on his face. “Let’s get in the car. I’m glad you feel this way. Shit, I was falling in love with you, from that first day. You stood there telling me your pathetic story. You looked so alone and lost. I couldn’t, wouldn’t do anything about it. You were way too vulnerable.

“I wouldn’t take advantage of you, to force you into my sex play, when you were half out of your mind. That’s why I’ve had to climb on the bike some nights, head out to the nearest crappy leather bar. I had to ram my cock into the first hole I could find, to release my cum.

“Yes, I’ll take you home now. If you really want to do this, I’ll teach you to love and pleasure me. I’ll also teach you to fucking well enjoy sex, and get pleasure from it, too. You think you’re open and strong enough to get fucked right away?” I was nodding eagerly. I started asking more questions, as he drove us back to his house.

We made it back to the house. Immediately we started scattering our shoes and clothes, on the way to the bedroom. I was naked and shivering with excitement. As usual, under his track suit, Mike was wearing a full-length rubber suit. He unzipped it to pull out his enormous prick. He shoved me onto the bed, thrusting his tongue into my mouth. His actions demanded that I swap tongue and saliva with him. As I came up for air, he flipped me belly-down on the bed. He shoved pillows under my stomach, so that my butt was up in the air to welcome him.

“For me, Dave, taking a cherry ass demands a proper ritual, from both me and you, the dominant and the submissive, going all out, complete with pain and pleasure. This is going to hurt. It always does the first time you get fucked. Don’t worry. Pleasure will follow, I promise. The first part of my form of the ceremony involves securing the boy. I’m going to rope your wrists to the headboard to keep you stable and balanced. This is also to let you know who’s in charge.” He followed out his plan, with ropes anchoring my body.

“I’m going to take it nice and slow. That’s part of my pleasure at the beginning. Now, try pulling on the knots. but I think you’ll find you’re well tied in place.”

I obliged, tugging my hands unsuccessfully.

“What happens next is that I gradually stripe that fucking gorgeous ass of yours with my uniform belt doubled over. When I’ve got you red and warmed-over, I’m going to finger-fuck you. That means sticking first one greased finger and then another into your ass, up your hole. Your body will resist, but I know what I’m doing. Keep your eyes wide open, so you can see what happening.”

My body twisted and turned to avoid his belt, as he started gently on my ass cheeks before reaching full force. Then I watched him move away and smooth the lubricant on the fingers of his right hand.

“I’m going to stretch your passageway with as many fingers as needed and maybe a dildo to help secure the roadway. I’ll need to soften your sphincter muscle, so that I can take my eager prick and gradually feed it into your chute, until you take it all. It’s alright to yell and scream. You’ll think I’m killing you with my fucking spike; don’t worry, it hasn’t killed anyone yet.”

Yes, I was now sweating and moaning in excitement and anticipation. The ass beating showed me that Officer Harrow took his sexual efforts seriously, just like the rest of his life.

“I’m going to shove this leather ball gag into your mouth and tie it off. Bite down on it. You should find that the pain gradually lessens, as pleasure begins; well, maybe not all at once. Nod, if you’re ready for battle. Good.

“Hey, shit-head, try not to jerk so hard as I finger you. I’m moving around inside you to reach that muscle. Fuck, this is a very narrow space; I think we need some dildo-help before I can get my cock into you. So, I’m using this rubber penis-shaped one first. I’ll just shove it in, now. Yes, hiss and hump all you want. It’s going in, inch by fucking inch.

“Stop trembling. Let me relax you for a minute. Breathe deeply and suck the dildo into you. There, it’s seated. I’ll move it around for a minute or two, to get you used to having a fat shaft up your ass. Now, we’ll let your muscles get used to the feeling.”

Again, I felt him move away, leaving me panting and growling into the gag. My reddened ass was stuffed with a seemingly large rubber penis exciting and hurting me. I wriggled. I struggled. I felt the dildo shift and stimulate me further.

“I think that’s enough of the rubber substitute. Now comes the real ritual of penetration. I’m rolling a condom onto my prick. You look so appetizing and welcoming, lying there. You are making my prick very excited. My man-muscle is knocking at your cave entrance and it fucking well won’t be denied. I’m still taking it slowly. I know it probably hurts, as my pole moves in. Just bite down on the gag and push out. You know, like if you were taking a crap. That’s better. I can feel you start to open up your narrow space to bring me in.”

I felt his enormous penis filling up a passage, that had never felt anything go up it before. The pain sliced through me. I groaned and tried to push him out. As Mike moved his cock in and out, shudders of pleasure followed the agony. His rubber-suited body began to cover my back, as his shaft slowly sank all the way inside me.

I felt complete, joined to his iron rod. The sensation sent flickers of lightning along my aroused tunnel, as he burrowed in and out. The gentleness was gone. I could tell he was moving to master me, with his pulsating thrusts, up and down. His whole body-warmth wrapped around my naked torso. I whimpered, as I felt fresh pain, as he sought out my upper reaches.

Then my body reared back. I was fearful he would withdraw, before I experienced more. I was not sure what I was expecting, but I knew that I wanted more. Was I expecting a climax of man-seed scattered? Hardly, since he was wearing a rubber protection. He’d said that was supposed to take care of any concerns.

Our bodies were sweating, his rubber outfit seemed attached to my naked body. My groans filled the leather gag. In response, his hands moved to rescue my buried prick. He started to massage it into fevered life. By now, we both were breathing heavily, as he slid voluptuously up and down my innocent chute. I shuddered, and felt a pounding in my chest, as my stomach muscles contracted involuntarily.

Then I felt Mike lurch forward with a shout.

“I’m going to cum. Christ, you feel good. I’m going to baptize you with my juices, before I bring you to your own climax of cum.”

My head spun, and my body shook in the heat of passion, as we both came, moments apart. Thank God, he had tied me to the headboard. I was full in one hole and emptied out of my smaller penis hole. He must have taken my cherry. I sighed, with surprised contentment.

Slowly, he withdrew his penis from its newly adopted home. Then Officer Harrow struggled up to kiss my neck. I reared up to push my gagged mouth across his moist lips. He groaned happily and climbed almost on top of me. The sweat from his face mingled with mine. The rest of his body was still encased in his rubber suit. His cock was lying, satisfied, on my genitals. Further down, his cum began to slide out of my happily violated hole. I was mano a mano with the man I thought I loved. Still, I couldn’t say that word aloud; at least, not yet.

That day was our first climax, in every sense. Nothing about our relationship would ever prove easy. The wild child was still operating inside me, outside the bonds he was weaving around me. I was outwardly mastered; but I still felt the pull of rebelling against authority inside. That certainly did not mean that Officer Michael Harrow wouldn’t prove to be a real and powerful authority, as well as attractive and loving man.

PART THREE – LEATHER TRAINING

That training day, that day of my first fucking, marked the first major change in our relationship. Officer Mike Harrow was now my master in fact, the man who had forcibly nursed me back to life over five months. He had brought me, Dave Coyne, back from being a homeless addict and was helping me become something that had begun to resemble a productive human being. His was a tough love, from a macho, homosexual, police officer. who had refused to accept my pathetic “no” for an answer. He had taken me into his home, started to care for and to mold me. Both of us being around the same age had helped.

The morning after I had asked him to take me, and to accept my body in return for his care and labor, we lay spooned together across his big bed. It was a Sunday morning. The sun struggled around the edges of his thick curtains.

“Would you like me to fix breakfast?” I asked.

“Not just yet. How does your ass feel, after my dick shoved inside it, last night? Fucking sore, I expect. You did well, for a first fuck, Davey. I think now we are ready to start training you to be able to pleasure me properly.”

“Yea, it does kinda hurt a little. But it was worth every bit of the pain, to be closer to you, to feel my body joined up to yours. What’s the next lesson?”

Mike laughed and stretched lazily, “Whoa, slow down. Let’s take all this one step at a time. You’re still recovering, getting better. I fucking well don’t want a relapse into your addict fits and frenzies. We’ve got to get you back to your full strength, so we can find you a job…”

I didn’t let him finish the sentence. Using my new freedom of action, I leaned over and kissed him. It was gentle at first. Then his tongue lapped between my teeth. He pulled me up and onto his well-defined chest. I embraced him hungrily, my dick already fully alert and erect. We grappled on the bed.  Our bodies thrashed together; heat warmed our bodies and senses in the sensual excitement of our groping hands, and tongues exchanging their own juices.

“Easy, boy. Relax. We’ve got all day, and I don’t want to exhaust you. But my prick is up and I’m horny already. Let’s try something new.  It looks like it’s time for your first lesson in cock sucking. Kneel at the side of the bed, while I sit up against these pillows. Now, take my cock into your hands and stroke the shaft firmly. That’s good. Feel it pulsing and thickening between your fingers. OK, now lean in, and open your mouth.”

I had already learned to obey his orders. This time the orders were delivered in a quiet, easy way.

“You need to crouch nearer the floor. Better. Now guide my penis onto your tongue and savor the taste. It should be tangy, salty, with maybe a little of your ass juices left over from last night. Lick it gently and draw it further in. That’s right, now close your lips around it and start to suck hard. Come on Davey, harder.”

His rod continued to grow, filling my mouth, as I sucked and slobbered over it. He pushed it back into my throat. I tried to breathe, rasping a breath from around the sides of his still expanding prong. It slid its hardened muscle, lined with silk-like skin, in and out past my teeth. He continued to thrust into my throat, until I spluttered and gagged.

“Easy, boy. Just take it easy. Let me do the work today. You just concentrate on sucking and licking my great sausage. Fuck, watch those teeth. Let your tongue and mouth enjoy the thrusts. Don’t worry.  You have to relax. I won’t go all the way in. Your throat isn’t ready or relaxed enough for that. You can use your hands to massage the rest of my shaft and play with my balls.

“Yeah, that feels good. Squeeze a little harder. Now push my penis-root with your thumbs. And keep sucking. Now we’re getting a good rhythm going. In and out, keep your lips fairly tight; don’t use your teeth. Keep the tongue lapping. This way we’re soon going to have a cum session. Fuck, can you feel my balls boiling? I’m pulling out, you’re not ready to swallow my jism yet. Instead, I’m going to spray your head; to baptize you with my cream.”

I let go of his jerking cock. As he slipped it out of my eager mouth, it erupted with ropes of white, warm cum covering my hair and face. Master Mike lay back on the bed, sweating, panting, and smiling. Then, gradually, one of his big hands tousled my shorn and sprinkled hair; the other spread his gift across my face so that I could feel and smell his seed. I tried to catch enough on my tongue, so I could have a taste. Suddenly, he sat up, grabbed my head and started licking his spunk off my cheeks. Master Mike was rolling it round on his tongue and swallowing it happily.

“Always tastes better in the mornings. Stick your tongue out for another gob or two. Now you’re going to get down and clean my dick. That’s the final part of service that a trained boy performs for his master. And that’s what I’m training you to be. You are to be my exclusive boy.

“That’s right…take my penis back into your mouth and wash it with your saliva. You’ll get a few last drops of cum that way.”

I licked his drooping prick, squeezing it gently with my lips. My new master sighed contentedly. I nuzzled the blond stubble on his chin. We rested, entwined on the well-used bed. My cum-sticky face lay close to his. Later we showered together, ate together, and trained together. The exercise regimen was hard; still, I did my best and could almost keep up with him.

That evening Officer Mike wanted to talk seriously about my future.

“You know, Davey, it’s probably time to find you a job. You’ve almost completed the detox program. Your indicators are getting less frequent. I’m thinking something outdoors? What do you think?”

“Yes, something with physical labor would be great. It would build up my muscles How about construction work? Wait a minute. At college, I took some classes in landscaping. You know, hands in the dirt kind of shit. But, like I’ve said, what I really want to do, is follow you into the PD, eventually.”

“We’ll have to see about that. Your addiction issues might get in the way there. Still you’ve been clean for five months now. We’ll see.”

“Sir, I won’t have to move out, will I? I can stay on with you, can’t I? I really need you still, now even more.”

Mike laughed uneasily, “I guess you can stay on. I am still responsible for you. You’ve been useful around the house. It looks like you could be useful in the bedroom, as well. You know what. If you do get a job, you could even pay me rent!”

So, it was decided. Very soon, I got my break. Master Mike heard of a city project, that involved construction and landscaping. He even got me an interview. The foreman was a leather friend of his, who agreed to take me on as a favor; even with my addiction, recovery and all.

“I goin’ to expect 110% out of you. Just because you know Mike,” the foreman growled, “Don’t think I’m cutting you a break. Fuck up the first time and you’re out of here.”

I decided on the spot, that I was going to work harder than anyone else on the site. I knew it was going to be fucking strenuous. I also knew that my efforts would pay off physically. I got into a routine; First a morning run with my Master Mike, then report to the work site, followed by reporting to the hospital twice a week for check-ups, then an early evening workout with Master and collapse into bed.

Gradually, I finished mending. Muscles developed, chest expanded, waist narrowed, legs thickened. Officer Harrow could not help but to notice my new, dark tan. He watched over me, pushing and forcing me onwards to our now common goals.

I got my weekly paychecks. The first two went directly to Mike, to start to repay him for my board and lodging. The next I took to a leather specialty shop I’d checked out. There I bought a pair of thick leather pants with an ass patch on the back and a codpiece in the front, with zippers for easy access. They were “slightly used,” but they fit me well.

I hadn’t had much time or energy left for sex. But several times a week, Mike would sit in his easy chair or on the bed, unzip, and pull out his great cock and balls. I would contentedly get down, to lick and suck.

By then I could draw more of his dick into my mouth. I had learned to relax my throat, so that I didn’t gag each time. He would grab my head, massage my throat muscles, and soothe me. At the same time, he would roll his rod around my tongue, until I could finally take it all in. He would be gentle at first, but, as his excitement grew, he became more demanding. The face-fucking became fierce. Finally, his balls would tense and release the stream of warm cum, which I had learned to swallow and to savor.

Occasionally, he would pull out and joyously spray my head and face, as I tried to catch the white ropes of jism. Twice a week I would be allowed to jack off in front of him. I let myself pant and swear, as I pumped my penis to climax. Mike stroked my neck and back and twisted my little nipples, helping me along. I thought we were content with our growing relationship.

The weekend I swaggered into the house, wearing my new leather jeans and flexing my muscled body, Mike looked at me long and strangely. He came toward me and embraced me fiercely.

“Shit, you look hot and fuckable, Davey. I haven’t realized how much you’ve filled out in the last month or so. Okay, it’s time to take you out. I’m going to show you off to my friends at the bar. It’s time they got a chance to inspect my new boy. Then we’re coming back here, so I can rip off your ass patch and fuck the hell out of you.

“I’ve warned you, I’m going to expect service and obedience, in exchange for my tough love. Here, try on these boots of mine. We’re about the same size. Try this old jacket, too. It looks passable. We’ll go on the bike.”

This was a real treat for me. Master rarely took me on his bike, and now I was all leathered up like him. I thought of us as two strong men in black leather, even if mine was mainly old and borrowed. He had never taken me to his bar before. In fact, I’d never actually been in a leather bar. I wasn’t so I wasn’t sure what “Service and obedience” meant in a place like that. I decided I would keep a step or two behind Master, as he strode through the bar entrance.

It was Saturday night. The place was a kaleidoscope of noise and flickering light. Video screens lit the darkness. The sound of heavy metal music bounced off the black and mirrored walls. There were lots of men in leather jackets, harnesses and boots, lining the walls, watching the crowd swirling past them. I also saw guys in jeans and white t-shirts, as well as others wearing various athletic gear and street wear. The guys in leather were the ones, though, that made my crotch react and my dick harden. They were greeting, and kissing select customers and ignoring others. Couples huddled, groped, and grunted in corners. Laughter, beer, and more exotic and enticing smells drifted on the air, some of which I remembered too well from my addict days. The scent of men and sex filled my excited nostrils. Master Mike high-fived a few leathermen. He kissed a couple and made his way purposefully to the bar.

“Evening, Ken, looks busy tonight. Let me have a couple of Coronas, please.”

“Evening, Mike, coming right up. Who’s that with you? A new boy, from the look of him. You training him up? Come over here, boy. Give me a real hug. You’ve got a good Master here. I’ve known him for quite a while. Oh, you must be the recovering addict.”

I started to blush from embarrassment. Not about the hug, but about the fact that he knew about my past, God, I thought. How many people had my Master told about my past?

Mike interjected, “He’s doing well, Ken. I’ve decided it was time to give him a night out. You know, to meet the family.”

Other men began to crowd around, trying to get a chance to talk to Mike, while they checked me out. Someone groped my cod piece, while another started to pull at my ass patch. They were only to be slapped away, by my Master. “He may be fresh meat,” Mike growled, “but, he’s my fresh meat and mine alone.” His gloved hand smacked my leathered butt and tousled my hair. Soon, everything had a warm and pleasant glow, as I drank my beers. I felt an excited and fevered buzz, even more when Mike pulled me into a tight embrace and a noisy kiss. Shit, yes, do I belong to him. I really do love him. Why can’t I tell him that?

PART FOUR – PUNISHMENT TRAINING

We only stayed for an hour in the bar. Lights sparkled, causing a colorful sheen on the black leather around us. My hot Master and I were the center of attention. After the third beer, I relaxed into the heat and sweat of a stupor. Hands and fingers grazed my thighs and my chest, while my cock thickened in its leather codpiece. I noticed that Master’s cock was noticeably wriggling in his tight black

leather breeches as well.

“Come on, Davey. I want you home. That tight black ass-patch is becoming too tempting.”

“But I want to stay. I’m having a fucking good time.”

Those words were not well received. “We’re leaving – now – boy! I am not fucking telling you again.”

He started walking toward the door. I turned quickly to catch up. We climbed on his Harley and were off. I ground my leather crotch into his black leathered ass, excited and over-stimulated. I was hoping that I had not made him angry by my earlier protest.

I staggered into the house. Mike grabbing me and pulling me into his back room, which I rarely visited. He shoved me over a thinly padded saw-horse, in the middle of the dimly lit space. He proceeded to kick my legs apart, then my wrists were tied to my ankles with leather straps, under the horse. Without any words, I was bent in two. He grunted as he unzipped the ass patch and heavily slapped my ass cheeks, while panting hard.

“It’s fuck time, boy. I’ve watched you wiggling that ass in front of me all evening. Now you are in my den. I’m going to have you – and now. I’m putting on the condom and opening the lube.”

His two fingers pushed urgently and unceremoniously into my narrow hole. My narrow passageway was quickly coated and my sphincter muscle powerfully teased. Then, I felt his pulsating cock, fully extended and rubber-coated, as Mike pushed in. I sensed that he was more than slightly drunk. He was not showing his usual careful approach.

“Come on, Davey, open up your fucking chute and let your Master in. Damn, you’re a tight squeeze. It doesn’t matter, I’m taking you, and hard! I’ve been fucking you for weeks now. Tonight, you’ve got me boiling over. Come on, cooperate. Help me get up inside you. I’m almost home. Damn it! Relax. Take the last inch in.” He began to shove in and out of that my hole with greater force. “Fucking hell, you leather motherfucker! Put your back into it!”

What was wrong with me? I didn’t want him this way. He sounded almost angry. And I was drunk, disoriented. I guessed that alcohol and this kind of sex, were not good together. Sure, he was my Master, and I knew he liked it rough. I also knew that, like he said, “I’m going to expect service and obedience.” But not like this for either of us.

I struggled in the straps. Involuntarily, I bucked my bare ass against his leathered thighs, as he sank further into me until he was home. Then, desperate for release, he thundered in and out of me. He clawed against my body, leather on leather. He sweat and swore, as he humped to climax. As soon as he shot his first load, he pulled out and came around to my head. His cock was still rigid. Cum glistened in the condom he’d pulled out, in the dim light.

“What the fuck is matter with you, Davey? That was like pissing in a bucket of wet cement. That’s not good enough for me.” He stared at me as if waiting for my reaction.

“I don’t want you like this.” I heard myself yell back, still feeling the effects of the alcohol. “I’m not just a hole for you to shove into. I’m a person. I thought that you told me I matter. Screw you; you fucking bastard. Keep your slimy cock away from me.”

I never saw his hand coming. The blow rattled my teeth. We were both snarling and swearing at one another. He undid the straps and hauled me to my feet, to drag me over to a wooden cross leaning against the wall. I did not remember seeing it before. I struggled and yelled, as if my very life depended upon it. A red mist swirled around my eyes. My mind descended to where my worst nightmares of addiction were hidden. I was not going to allow myself to be strung up like a criminal or exposed and used like an animal. That was not what he promised me. I thought he had promised a loving relationship.

I learned quickly that my Master was determined to be obeyed, above all. He shook me like a rag doll, as he dragged my limp body, across to the wood of the cross. I could but mutter incoherently. Officer Mike pulled the clothes off me. The jacket, tee-shirt, boots, even my new leather pants, all ended up on the floor.

Naked, I was hauled into position, butt front for fucking. My wrists were manacled, high above my head. My cock was pulled over the support. My thighs and waist were wrapped with chains to the upright., I kicked backwards in desperation. I caught Mike in the balls; my anger was blossoming in my mixed-up brain. My Master was equally enraged by my rebellion. He gasped, swore and paused. Then he laughed, before grabbing my ankle, roping it sideways to the upright, and finishing the job with the other foot. I was splayed across a wooden cross, cursing and struggling, but held firmly in place.

“Fuck it, kid. What the hell has come over you? I’m your Master. I will get rough at times. When you disobey or disrespect me, you only make it worse. You’re strong enough to stand a little tough treatment. Just remember, you’re my boy. You do what I want and what I say in these sessions and in front of my friends. So, you’ve forced me to teach you a proper lesson. You must learn to be obedient. A flogging and a hard fuck should do it.” Master Mike’s voice was now firm, seemed calmer and more purposeful; but that only served to infuriate me.

“Screw you, Officer Motherfucker. I thought you wanted to help me, not just beat and torment me. I’ll never call you Master again.” I screamed wildly into the silence.

“We’ll see about that. Now, I’ve heard all I want to from you. This hood and gag will keep you quiet, while I give you your lesson.”

Now we were both yelling at the top of our voices. But he silenced me by forcing a leather gag into my mouth. Then he pulled a leather hood over my head and drew the laces tight around my neck.

I continued to thrash myself up, violently banging against the cross. I had lost control. Then, I felt the first blow from his flogger. I screamed into the gag and sobbed uncontrollably. The Master laid six heavy strokes across my quivering back. I wrenched futilely at the manacles on my wrists. My cock betrayed me, as it unrolled to its full length and leaked pre-cum. I snorted and snarled like an animal, caught in a trap. That was a sexually excited animal in a trap.

Then Master laid his hand against my flaming back. His hand was coated with soothing ointment, that he smeared on my wounds. The other hand guided his broad, stiff pole back into my cum-lined hole. I groaned heavily, as his instrument of pleasure and pain slid back into my ass. My Master’s voice was low and commanding, as his torso and hands slid across me.

“Easy, boy. You’re having another of your fits. Relax onto my shaft. Let it fill your chute. Let yourself feel it, as I slide into your very depths. I can tell from your trembling, that really you do want it again. You know that you need to feel my iron pole filling your secret passage. My pole is now bare, without the rubber. I want you to finally feel the true me.

“I’m just going to ease the pressure on your own dick, by jerking you off slowly, in rhythm with my thrusts. Can you feel my body against yours? My leathers against your skin? My naked kisses, as they press against your leathered head?” Master Mike’s tone was determined and dauntless.

“Go ahead, fight against me, but feel my naked spike impaling you. Shudder against me, but allow yourself to feel my power over you. Struggle against me, but let your cock spurt out its seed with mine. I’m binding us together as one, as Master and boy. Now, you are truly mine. Our blood, sweat, and spunk now boil together. And I am yours. I have joined us together by my strong cock, as it spews my seed into your very soul. This is how men are meant to fuck.”

I can’t remember much else. I heard a roaring in my ears. My face sweat into the leather of the hood. My mind went wandering, while my body twitched and humped in the restraints. Through it all, Officer Mike kept pumping into my passage, widening his path as he claimed his boy. His calloused fingers continued to agitate my cock shaft. I reared and plunged, in time with his fuck-rhythm. Finally, with my desperate cry, muffled by the hood I was wearing, I felt my cum spurt out in a shattering climax. Simultaneously, he shot his seed, deep into my body for the first time.

My Master collapsed against me, pinning my semi-conscious form to the cross. His leather jacket rubbed against the welts on my beaten back. We hung there for several minutes, grunting, panting, sweating and swearing. Finally, he pulled out of me, leaving me dazed and spread-eagled, with a load of his cream sliding out of my slippery ass-hole.

Later, after he had taken me off his cross, I cleaned him as we showered. We laid down, exhausted, on his bed. I realized that our relationship was changing, perhaps permanently. The tender nurse was disappearing, only to be replaced by the strict disciplinarian. My Master must have felt that now I was sufficiently recovered and ready to be trained to give my body over to his pleasures. I understood that meant that I had better learn to service him, to his standards and beliefs. This was his form of tough love. It was only later that I realized it was still love, and he loved me.

Also, Mike was under stress at the job. He’d applied for a transfer to the motor officer squad, from street patrol. He was anxiously awaiting the results of the tests he had taken. Bikes were his hobby. Now he wanted to make them part of his profession.

My Master continued my training. I still had a hard time and resisted his efforts to take complete control my body and my brain. As a result, I spent a lot of time bound to his wooden cross, naked and hooded into silence. Master Mike flogged me, until he drew blood a couple of times. He fucked me on the cross, on the sawhorse, on his bed, whenever he felt like it. He pushed a medium sized butt-plug into my hole on other nights. A few weekends he paraded me around his bar, in boots and leather jock-strap, and his collar and leash, proudly put on display to be patted and poked by his friends.

There, and at times at home, Officer Harrow seemed proud of the man he was remaking creating out of the boy addict. He kept his emotions in check; but he included me in everything, in his small jokes and rewards, in exercising and in cooking. Best of all, he started to teach me to ride his bike. I toughened up under this regime and within several weeks, completed training. His mastery over me was nearly complete. His discipline remained firm and constant.

I was subservient, but not submissive. That spark of rebellion still glowed in me. I still felt a need to push back against authority. This would provide the flash point in our futures.

End of Part Four

© Copyright 2021 by Alex Ironrod. Posted here with permission of the author.

Yes, there is more, much more of “The Trainer.” It’s published by MLR Press as an “e-book” and is available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and your neighborhood gay bookstore. Further information of all Alex’s novels is available on his new website, alex-ironrod.com.

Dream Boy Bondage

One thought on “The Trainer”

  1. Actually, now I remember that Alex Ironrod bought two art pieces from me, but only the one had his requested added favorite aspect. I gotta admit I did a good job with it too. He’d wanted me to illustrate one of his book covers but I was just too totally busy at the time, but luckily found him another illustrator who I think did an awesome job.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.