I'd seen him a few times. He was a student at a local university, having turned 18 a few weeks before. Don't ask how I found that out.
His name was Leo. He was single, but he'd been on a few dates with a girl and was open to more dates to see where it went. He was definitely popular with the girls, especially when he was wearing shorts.
He regularly went jogging across rural terrain on the edge of town that was mostly deserted. I never normally went there, but there was no harm in seeing new places and going for a jog.
My jogging sessions across that terrain became regular. I think he barely noticed me, although I certainly noticed him, wearing those brief shorts that showed off his beautiful hairy legs, covered in blonde leg hair that captured the sunlight. I marvelled at his calves, at his delicious blonde thighs⊠and remembered a teacher back in my school days once telling me: "You can't always have what you want." The thing is, there are some things you're really not supposed to have, and yet it turns out you can have them anyway.
One thing going for me is that I'm good at catching people unaware, and I'm quick. He barely knew I was on him before I was standing there facing him, clutching his shorts in my fist after having pulled them down and off his beautiful blonde legs. He'd tried to hold on to them, but his attempts amounted to too little too late.
He was left standing, wearing only his trainers and ankle socks â and otherwise completely naked, staring at the man who had just stripped him of his shorts and underwear. Something about having been stripped by me like that appalled him, but going by the way his cock was plumping up very slightly, there was clearly something about it that appealed to him. I looked at his beautiful face, and when he looked back at me, the way my eyes bored into his enhanced his semi-erection.
"My⊠my shorts," he started, looking down at where they hung, gripped firmly in my clenched fist. When he saw my fist tighten its grip on his shorts, demonstrating that I had no intention of giving him his shorts back, that I was going to keep him naked for as long as I wanted⊠well, that caused a full-on erection. And by now it was throbbing.
He was naked because I'd stripped him. And he was going to remain naked because that was what I wanted, and he could see I was clearly enjoying it.
He saw the grin spread across my face and he followed my gaze down to his crotch. When he saw his throbbing erection, he was shocked, blushing in embarrassed confusion.
"It's okay, Son," I assured him. "You don't understand it, and if I were you I wouldn't even try. But, whether or not you accept it, there's part of you that likes the fact that I've stripped you and that right now I'm keeping you naked."
As he listened, wide-eyed, his cock throbbed as if to confirm what I was saying.
"Give me my shorts backâŠ" he started, halfheartedly, before I interrupted him.
"And we can test that. You're going to remain naked for as long as I want to keep you naked."
His cock throbbed again and a trace of precum appeared, providing us both with results that could only lead to one conclusion.
He didn't like it, yet he liked it. And he certainly didn't like the fact that he liked it. He was lost for words.
"Right now you're under my control. Your body belongs to me. You belong to me," I said, adding a little epilogue to our experiment.
His foreskin started to pull back a little of its own accord, the precum increasing. We were staring each other down, but I kept getting distracted by the movements of his excited cock. I smiled when I saw how copious the precum was becoming. He looked down again briefly and looked back up at me. His expression was priceless: a delectable combination of anger, confusion, embarrassment and disarming arousal â although he wasn't exactly sure what it was that was appealing to him.
"Listen, SonâŠ" I began, seeing him look back at me, betraying his will to appear unassailable, his youthfully vulnerable eyes revealing the yearning for mature, fatherly guidance, the hope I would provide him with answers to the questions now plaguing his young and impressionable mind.
"You're young and straight. But right now, I own you. And you like being owned by me. You don't know why, but you like it. When I look into your eyes, I see a young man who's willing to trust me, knowing that I'm not going to do you any harm. I just want to assume ownership of you for a few hours â maybe a couple of days."
"Days?" he exclaimed, finding his voice again. I loved the way he didn't even react to the concept of being owned by me; he just questioned the how long I would be owning him for.
"Yeah. Listen, it's Friday afternoon now and I'm going to take you home and own you for the whole weekend â keep you as my property. I'll take you back to your student dorms on Sunday afternoon or evening, depending on when you want to be back. I'll take very good care of you. Can you see over there behind youâŠ? No, further to the right⊠you can start walking towards that blue Volkswagen Golf. I'm keeping hold of your shorts and I'll be right behind you."
He looked behind him and spotted my car. He turned back to look at me briefly, and without a word he started walking towards the car, me following close behind him, marvelling at his youthfully pert young buttocks covered in peach fuzz, lightly hairy between the delicious globes of his buttocks which I would be exploring â and seeding â later.
When we arrived at my place, he used the Smartwatch he had on his left wrist to send a text message to his friends at the dorm to say he'd be away for a couple of nights.
Leo was a remarkable young man. I broke him in slowly, as you have to with straight men. I'm not just talking about the first time I fucked him. I used gentle psychological persuasion to install a feeling within him that he'd consented to becoming my temporary property. In fact, he ended up enjoying doing whatever it took to please me. He glowed with pride when I called him a good boy. He got pleasure out of doing what he was told. He relished the sense of achievement he got from finding out what it was I particularly liked and performing those acts without being asked to do so. One example was how he would approach me on the sofa, lift my arm and bury his face in my sweaty, hairy armpit and start licking my sweaty pits lovingly, all the time looking into my eyes. He started calling me Sir without having being asked to. And on one occasion, he admitted that he had only just managed to stop himself calling me Daddy by mistake. I assured him that he was welcome to call me Daddy if he wanted to. He thought about it for a moment and admitted that he'd like that.
He loved being carried by me, being flung over my shoulder and carried around. And he remained hard almost the entire weekend, most notably whenever we talked about him being my property, me being his owner, about me only taking what is mine whenever I took pleasure from his body. He got hard whenever I said good boy, whenever he called me Sir or Daddy, when he sensed that his body belonged to me and not to him, when I spanked him, when I fucked him. And when he got bred, he came as soon as he felt my load erupting inside him.
We talked a lot. We talked about what all this was, and he shared a lot, which helped him deal with it. But we also talked about life and the world we live in. I continued to win his trust and was damned if I was going to abuse that.
On Sunday morning, as he lay there on his stomach, freshly bred and wanting to keep my load inside him, he thanked me for taking charge and assuming ownership of him.
"It was the right thing to do," he said quietly.
On Sunday afternoon, I mentioned that it was time to take him home.
"Sir⊠you said I could stay until the evening if I wanted," he said hesitantly.
"I'd like that, Son. But it'll cost you," I said, sitting down and patting my lap. I had been expecting him to come and sit on my lap for a bit of dad-and-son talk, but instead, he took off his shorts and underwear, handed them to me and laid himself down over my lap for another spanking.
I was very possessive of him, and he sensed it. And he liked it. He knew that my possessive demeanour was coupled with a strong desire to protect him. And, after all, he had only just turned 18.
I took him home on Sunday evening. We exchanged a long French kiss in the car before he thanked me for everything, got out and walked up the path to his dorm building, wearing just the shorts and trainers he'd been wearing on Friday afternoon when I'd assumed ownership of him.
On Thursday afternoon I received a text message:
Sir, will be jogging in same place tomorrow. What if someone else tries to assume ownership of me?
That won't happen, Son. I own you. And you're not up for grabs.
Of course, I was there on Friday afternoon. I'd parked my car elsewhere, somewhere where he wouldn't find it. And I hid. He didn't see me until I was on him. And before he knew it, he was standing there again, staring at his shorts, in the firm grip of my clenched fist.
"Sir⊠what are you going to do to me, Sir�" he asked, a little overcome with excitement. I think he'd imagined I wouldn't be coming.
"I'm going to make you do as you're told, Son. Now⊠turn around and put your hands behind your back â I'm going to tie you up. Don't try anything funny."
By the time his wrists were bound firmly behind his back, I briefly noted that his cock was fully erect â before slinging him over my shoulder and carrying him to my car.
