Training the Sergeant – Part 9

By lthr_jock

The next day, Davis had a day off work but he still started off early with a heavy two-hour session at the gym and an eight-mile run. As he towelled off after his shower, he looked at his reflection in his bathroom mirror. The gym was definitely working on him – he now had some serious definition on his abs under his pelt of hair, and when he did a double bicep pose his arms swelled impressively. His legs were similarly growing, and his arse was definitely getting tighter. His new high and tight haircut looked good against his craggy face, and removing the beard and moustache had taken 10 years off him. He grabbed his electric razor and shaved, remembering to run it around his head to preserve the effect of the haircut.

He padded naked through to his bedroom and opened up his wardrobe to decide what to wear today. The card he had been given the night before had an address on one side and the words “Cohiba Esplendidos” on the other side. The address was close to a local shopping centre, so he decided to drive there. He grabbed some clothes and started to put them on.

He started with a pair of leather jeans that formed a skin-tight black covering over his legs. The jeans had leather thong strapping up the outside of the legs, and his muscles stretched them wide so that his muscles could be seen between them. He tucked his cock down the left leg, where it formed a noticeable bulge and before doing the belt up grabbed a top. The top he grabbed was a deep red lycra tank top which left his arms uncovered. The open neck at the front showed the clean line between his shaved neck and his hairy chest. His chest bulged the lycra and his nipples were clearly visible through the material. He tucked the top into the jeans and then tightly buckled the thick leather belt. He pulled on a pair of thick white football socks and then slipped his feet into highly glossed Dehner boots, turning the socks down over the top of the boots so that they formed a thick white band just below his knee. He finished his ensemble with the leather uniform he had worn the night before, letting it hang open to reveal the shirt beneath. He finished with a set of reflective sunglasses and then headed out to his car.

The drive was relatively short, and he walked through the main concourse of the shopping centre. He was oblivious to the stares he got from a lot of people as he walked through until he heard a voice he recognised.

“Sarge? That you?”

He turned to see Pete Harrison, one of his officers. Pete was in his late 20s, about 5-foot-10 and a committed bodybuilder. He had his usual neat blond haircut, but as he was off duty had gelled it into light spikes. He was wearing a baggy tanktop with a decal of a bodybuilding rhino on it and a pair of board shorts and sandals. He was wide eyed at the sight of Davis dressed like he was.

“Pete. Good to see you. Enjoying your rest days?”

Pete was amazed at the sight of his sergeant dressed in leather with his tight lyrca tanktop displaying his chiselled body. He could barely string two words together.

“Yeah. I’m…good…yeah. Just been working…out.”

He shook his head and got his thoughts together.

“Yeah, I’m good thanks, Sarge. Erm new look for you, Sarge.”

Davis looked down at himself.

“Yeah, just thought I’d try something new.”

Pete grinned cheekily “Mid-life crisis.” Davis laughed and made as if to cuff Pete around the ear. Pete ducked, but the move brought him under Davis’ arm. Davis grabbed him around the neck and pulled him close. “Cheeky sod.” Pete was stuck with his head looking downwards, where he got a great look at his sergeant’s cock bulging his leathers. He blushed as he felt his own cock swelling and he pulled out of Davis’ grip.

He took a couple of steps back and grinned nervously.

“Yeah, well, I got to go buy some protein. Cya back at work, Sarge.” He turned and walked away. He got about 15 feet away when something occurred to him and he grabbed his phone, turned and said, “Bye, Sarge.” As Davis turned to say goodbye, Pete snapped a photo. He then waved and headed off.

Davis shrugged and then headed off to the address on the card. He walked for about 15 minutes, which got him fairly hot in the sunshine of the day. He found himself outside a shop called “The Humidor” and stepped inside. Immediately the smell of cigars and spiced smoke enveloped him, and he inhaled deeply. The shop was dim, the outside world screened with a thin blind, making it seem cooler. The shop, as its name suggested, was devoted to the cigar. The walls were lined with cigars in thermally controlled display cabinets as well as everything that could be needed for enjoying a cigar – cutters, matches, humidors, etc. As he had entered, a small bell on the door tinkled and after a few seconds a man stepped out through a curtain that led to the staff area.

“Good morning, Sir. How can I help you?”

The man was smartly dressed in a white shirt and black trousers. He had a smart tie on, but as Davis looked closer, he could see that the tie was made of a shiny black material of some kind. He was in his forties, with tightly cropped black hair and clearly looked after himself.   His shirt swelled as it covered the muscles underneath. When he stepped out from behind the counter, Davis could see that his shoes were highly glossed and looked similar to his tie.

“I’m not sure. I was given this card.” He handed the card over to the man, who flipped it over.

“The Cohiba Espelendidos? An excellent choice. I assume this was recommended to you?” He looked up into Davis’ face.

“Yes. Yes, I guess it was.”

“Ah I see. A discerning palate. Do you know how many you want?”

“Err.. no. Hadn’t really thought about it.”

“Well, let me suggest something. Why don’t you commit to buy one, then you can try it while you’re here and see how many you want based on that? Does that sound reasonable?”

Davis nodded. “Yes, sounds good.”


The man unlocked a display case to one side and pulled out two metal tubes. Each was about 8 inches long, and he handed one to Davis.

“One of my favourite cigars, so I think I will join you.” He opened the tube and let the 7-inch cigar inside slide out. “I think you will like this. It is a 7-inch long, 47-ring gauge cigar. It smokes with a honey-like aroma and is rich and complex.” As Davis opened his tube, the man clipped the end off his own and lit it with a silver lighter. He drew in deeply and exhaled a perfect smoke ring which, by accident or design, floated over Davis’ head before breaking up into an aromatic cloud.

Davis followed his example and drew deeply on the cigar, enjoying the smell and flavour of the excellent cigar. He closed his eyes briefly as the man carried on extolling the virtues of the cigar. The man’s voice had a dreamlike lilt to it and combined with the heady aroma and dimness of the room, caused Davis’ head to start feeling foggy. The man continued to talk and as Davis took further lungfuls of the sweat heady smoke, he moved the glowing end of the cigar to and fro.

“If you look closely at the end of my cigar, you can see how evenly it burns, how the smoke rises perfectly, how the red glow entices you in, invites you in, encourages you to smoke more. Take another lungful.” Davis obeyed, enjoying the feel of the hot smoke inside him and the sensation of exhaling a sweet cloud around him. “Doesn’t that feel good? Just watch the cigar. Don’t move your head, just move your eyes. Watch the end of the cigar, let yourself flow into the smoke, feel the smoke take you over, feel your brain calming down, floating like smoke, making you free, making you calm, making you sleep.” Davis felt his attention wandering, until there was nothing left but the red glowing end of the cigar. With each lungful of the sweet smoke, his mind wandered further until he was obeying the man’s instructions like an automaton. From somewhere behind him, he dimly heard the bell on the door tinkle as the man locked it and put up the Closed sign. The room darkened as he pulled the blinds fully down, and when he stood back in front of Davis, the red glow of the cigar was even brighter and pulled Davis’ attention to it even more.

“That’s good. Just watch the cigar. Watch it, smoke your own cigar and as you tell me about yourself.” Davis started to talk, without restraint and in a soft monotone. The man grinned as Davis told him everything about himself, including his recent experiences. The man now knew why Davis had been sent to him and made a mental note to thank the Captain and Dr. Canning.

“Sergeant Davis, you don’t want me to call you that, do you? I’m sure you can think of something better to call me? Sergeant Davis, what do you call a member of the public to be polite?”

“I call them Sir.”

“Sir? Yes I think you should call me Sir. What do you think of that, Davis?”

“Yes, Sir, that’s fine Sir.”

“Good. Take another drag.” He watched as Davis took another deep lungful. “I’m sure you’re enjoying that cigar. In fact, you enjoy cigars so much that the mere smell of them makes you aroused. Isn’t that true, Davis?”

“Yes, Sir, yes it does.”

“In fact, every time you smell them you get erect, Davis.”

“Yes, Sir, I do.” As if by magic, Davis’ cock swelled down his leg, making the bulge quite obscene. The man grinned. “I can see that. But there’s a problem, Davis.”

“A problem, Sir?”

“Yes. A problem. And problems make me unhappy. Take another lungful, Davis. You don’t want to make me unhappy do you, Davis?”

Davis took another lungful and his mind went deeper. He shook his head.

“No, no I don’t, Sir.”

“You see, people who are aroused by cigars aren’t normal, are they?” Davis looked uncomfortable at this, and the man grinned. “We don’t refer to them as people. We refer to them as something else. Take another drag, Davis. Do you know what we call them?”

Davis took another long drag. “No, Sir, I don’t.”

“We call them slaves, Davis. I can see you’re aroused. That must mean you are a slave, Davis. Doesn’t it?”

Davis frowned and then nodded. “Yes, Sir, I guess it does.”

“Well, you can’t call me Sir any more then, can you?”

“Can’t I, Sir?”

“No. As you are a slave, you must call me Master. Have another drag.”

“Yes, Master.” Davis obediently took another long drag.

“As you are a slave, when you are with a Master, you have no name and you must obey any orders given to you. If you are asked your name, you cannot remember it. If you talk about yourself, you call yourself ‘it.’ Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Good. What is your name?”

Davis stood there confused.   He could not remember what he was called. “It does not know, Master.”

The man grinned. “Good. Relax. That is how it should be. You like this. This is what you need to be. Finish your cigar. When you finish the cigar, you will know that you are a complete slave. In future, you will only smoke when ordered to. You must earn the right to smoke. Do you understand, slave?”

“Yes, Master.” With a few deep drags, Davis finished the cigar. He remained standing, gazing at the man’s cigar, his mind locked on to it.

“Very good. Lean forward and smell my tie.”

Davis did so, detecting a sweet smell behind the smell of cigar smoke. “Do you know what that is, slave?”

“No, Master.”

“That is rubber, slave. Look at my boots. They are rubber too. You like rubber, slave.”

Davis nodded.

“When you wear rubber, you become more of a slave. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Good. Now remove everything you are wearing that is not rubber.”

Davis obediently stripped and stood there, naked and unashamed. The man walked around him, running his hands over his muscles and kneading them with appreciation.

“Good, slave. Now, you wish to please me don’t you?”

Davis nodded. “Yes, Master.”

“Good. Stay here, inhale the cigar smoke. Do not move.” With that the man left the room, Davis standing quiet and like a hairy muscled statue until the man returned with a handful of rubber gear.

“Excellent, slave. Now – dress yourself.”

Davis grabbed the items and started to pull them on. Each item was already lubed, so they slid over his hairy skin with ease. First was a rubber cock sheath. It slid up, covering Davis’ impressive tool in black rubber, his balls sliding into sacs made for them. He straightened up, his cock and balls now like a rubberised version of them and hard in front of him. He then bent and pulled on rubber socks, working his feet into the toes of them and rolling them up his calves.

“Good, slave. Look at the rubber. Smell and feel the rubber. Feel it caressing you and making you more of a slave.”

Davis grunted and pulled on a pair of skintight rubber chaps, zipping them tightly up the outside and leaving his legs covered in a sheen of slimy black. His muscles looked even larger through the rubber, and the man smiled. Davis then pulled on a pair of knee-high ranger boots and laced them tightly in place, their black laces rubberised and blending with the sheen of boots and chaps.

Davis then picked up a rubber shirt and pulled it on. The shirt was short sleeved and secured at the front by a zip and a row of thick rubber straps. The shirt bit tightly around his biceps, and he forced the zip up. The straps then tightened the shirt around his torso. He added thick, stiff straps of rubber around each bicep and then pulled on thin rubber gloves. He then looked at the man. The man smiled and walked around him, running his hands across the rubber.

“Good slave. You have pleased me. Although…”

“What, Master, what else do you need it to do?”

The man picked up two rubber collars. Both were thick and lockable. One had “SLAVE” in metal letters on the front, the other had “MAN.” “I need you to wear one of these. Which one do you think you should wear?”

Davis didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the “SLAVE” collar and put it around his throat, strapping it tight. The man smiled and padlocked it in place. “Hold up your hands.” Davis did so, and the man slid thick rubber fist mitts over his hands and locked them in place.

“Slaves do not need hands.” He then looked down at Davis’ erect cock. “Look down, slave. See how much you are enjoying this. You are a true slave.”

Davis looked down and his cock jumped with pleasure


The man leaned back in his deep leather armchair and took a deep draft from his Cohiba. Without looking, he reached to his left and tapped the ash into his ashtray. He picked up his phone and dialled a number.

“Captain? Hello there. Thanks for the present. Yes, yes he did go under very quickly. The normal trigger is in place. I think you’ll find he causes you no problems. Where is he now? Oh, he’s just performing a minor service for me.”

The man reached out and ruffled the hair of the man kneeling beside his chair. Davis was dressed as before, kneeling on the floor with his mitted hands padlocked behind him. His mouth was gagged with a thick rubber gag, attached to the front of which was a metal ashtray, half full of cigar ash. As the man tapped fresh ash into it, Davis shuddered with pleasure at the smell and a drip of pre-cum came out of his erect cock.

“Oh yes, just a minor service. I’ll have him back at work in time for your plan.”


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Click to start at Part 1

Metal would like to thank the author, lthr_jock, for allowing this story to be posted here. If you enjoyed it be sure to leave a comment in the comments section!

NOTE: This story originally appeared on the Eckie site. It is being re-posted here with the original author’s permission.

Eckie AKA Bondagefan

This story also previously appeared on the Narcissus Cursed Men Collection website — now known as the Gay Spiral Mind Control Story Collection.

Copyright © 2015 and 2017 by lthrjock.

All rights reserved. This story may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author.

If you liked this story, read Hallowe’en by the same author!



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