("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text -------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author © 2011. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- Derrick Gets a Father by Mwriter65 (mwriter65@live.com) *** Derrick, an orphan who is struggling with his sexuality, runs away from his foster home looking for a new life. Unfortunately he runs into the wrong man. (Mm-teen, underage, nc, bd) *** Author Note: The following story is fiction. It is totally a product of imagination. It involves sexually explicit erotic events between adolescents and men. It involves bondage, and non consensual sex, as well as sexual humiliations. I will also contain anything else I can think of as the story goes on. It is definitely authoritarian in nature so if that's not your bag move on. If you are offended by such material or are too young, live where it is not allowed to read the story, don't read on. No one was harmed in the writing of this story. Comments are always welcome as long as they are not nasty. mwriter65@live.com *** Archivist note: No actual sex in the first past, it appears to be a setup for future episodes. *** PART 1 After a year of construction, my custom built home was complete. Just shy of my fortieth birthday, I was hit by a drunk driver while on my motorcycle. Unfortunately I would walk with a slight limp the rest of my life. Fortunately, the drunk who hit me was driving a company truck for a large national delivery firm, and the out of court settlement was enough for me to retire early and pursue my real interests without worry of income for the rest of my life. My new house was in western Montana. I was lucky enough to find a piece of land close by to other like-minded friends of mine, close enough to Missoula, but still nicely out in the country. My friends helped me with the design, one of whom was a professional architect, the others pointing out what they would have done differently on their own homes when they built them. To the casual visitor, this the basement would appear normal, if not very well thought out. When you entered the basement, it appeared to be just a cozy game room, with a big screen, pool table and nice comfy couches, with a wet bar in the corner. Right out of the movies, though, I had a secret door hidden in a book shelve. Instead of pulling the right book or whatever, mine is controlled by punching in the correct PIN code on the TV remote. Once the bookshelf rotated, you could enter the real reason I had built the house. The finishing touches on this part of the basement were completed by my friends, as I didn't want the workers to be going home and talking about what they saw. The custom furnishings were completed on site, and at the housewarming, I was able to test some of the more "custom" bits of furniture on my friend's boys. You see the basement, normal from first glance, contained a very well equipped dungeon. It had computer controlled lighting throughout so I could create any mood I chose, as well as being photographer friendly. It was complete with everything one would expect. In the center of the main room, was a large low wooden table, equipped with a motorized winch to pull the restraint chains to the desired length. Several trapeze were suspended my motorized cables over drains installed in the concrete floor. There was a pillory, made from sturdy oak bolted to the floor, as well as several sets of different stocks that could be hung from chains, or just placed over the boys' bodies as the master would have. There was a shower in the corner, equipped with eyebolts to restrain, if required. There were also three cells, equipped with sturdy iron bars, small cots and a "bomb site" toilets that would require squatting over. Along the far wall was storage for every imaginable bit of fetish gear a perv like me could dream of. Off the main dungeon room, another part of the basement contained a fully equipped photography studio. I planned to supplement my income with photography that would sell well in eastern Europe and Asia, so I made it state of the art. In the photo studio was a large walk in closet to contain the wardrobe for my subjects, once I could get their measurements. I had a tailor friend in New York who specialized in what I had in mind. Because while it is obvious I am into bondage, I also have many other fetishes. Besides restraining boys in leather and chains, I like boys in uniforms, I liked forcing boys to wear girls clothes, I liked to age regress boys, I liked doggie train boys; in fact, as long as it both mortified the boy and turned me on, I was into it! I was sure I would find other things I liked to do with my boys as well. With the contacts I had, I was planning to sell plenty of pictures and movies of my boys in every imaginable painful, embarrassing, humiliating, erotic situation I could think of, as I knew there were others just like me out there. I just needed to get one! For years I could only act out my fantasies through the internet or a few very expensive nights with rent boys willing to submit to my whims for huge amounts of cash. It was time for me to train a boy of my own. Now when I say boy, I should explain. I am not into little boys, but rather young guys in their mid teens. I wanted my boy to be a raging pile of hormones. What I wanted was an insecure sixteen year old gay boy, who I could turn into my submissive surrogate son. So now that I had the home of my perverted dreams, It was time to go on the hunt. Now before you think I am a totally horrible person, I had no intention of keeping anyone long term against their will. Oh sure, I might have to convince them that they wanted to stay, but it would definitely be in their best interest. I wanted a street kid, who had no prospect of a better life. That way at least, I wouldn't feel so bad about what I was about to do. So I got in my van and headed west. It is roughly a seven hour drive from my house to Seattle. I wanted to cast my net a good distance from where I lived, and let's be honest, Montana is not a hot bed of teenage runaways. Yes Seattle would fit the bill perfectly. I booked a cheap motel and paid with cash. I planned on scouting for a couple of days and then making the drive back home non-stop. It was actually a nice little vacation, wandering the streets of neighborhoods I knew would attract what I was looking for. The second morning there I settled into a chair in a coffee shop across from a gay bookstore. I noticed a kid leaning against the wall next to the door of the bookstore. He was glancing all around him, like he didn't want someone to see him there. He looked about sixteen, with dark blond curls showing out the front of the gray hoodie he had pulled over his head. He was also wearing ragged cargo pants and well worn Van's slip on skater shoes. I couldn't tell much more from the distance I was at, so when he went into the bookstore, I picked up my coffee and headed across the street. I walked into the cozy bookshop, said hello to the guy at the register and walked over to near where my kid was browsing the aisles. I didn't want to get too close to him a spook him. He looked incredibly nervous just being in the store. I did get a closer look at him though. He had very blue eyes and a slight case of acne. Nothing too bad, just normal teenage boy acne. I noticed his nails were dirty and his clothes obviously hadn't been washed in a while. He looked unwashed and underweight. Obviously a street kid or at the very least his home life was a shambles. I had to hide a chuckle as he pretended not to be trying to scope out the row of porno mags along the wall. Not for long though as the clerk walk up to him and preened, "Honey, I told you, you cant hang out around the adult section. Sorry sweetie." Ugh, I thought to myself. Did everyone who worked in these places have to pass a queen test before getting hired? The boy looked mortified he had been busted, apparently not for the first time. He mumbled an apology to the clerk, and looking down at his dirty sneakers started heading for the door. Perfect I thought. He didn't protest his innocence or fight back in anyway, he just gave up and left. Nice and submissive I thought. I bet we was hungry too. I waited just long enough not be obvious I was following the boy and walked out of the shop after him hoping he hadn't gone far. He hadn't. He was sitting around the corner against the wall looking very depressed. I walked up to him, and stood over him, until he noticed me, looking up at me startled. "Hey kid," I said. "You look like you could use a meal. Can I buy you lunch?" He continued staring at me, obviously hungry but wary at what my motive was. If he only knew. "What do I have to do for it?" he asked. His voice was kind of high and soft. "For lunch? Nothing. I saw you in the bookstore, and felt bad for you. It sucks to be young sometimes," I chuckled. His face flushed a deep red. Even better I thought, he blushes! Perfect! "Come on kid, you should eat. It's cold out here anyways." I put out my hand, he hesitated slightly before grabbing it and pulling himself to his feet. He was about 5'6" and maybe 120 pounds. "I'm Martin," I said introducing myself. "Oh, uh, I'm Derrick," he said as he started walking with me. "Nice to meet you Derrick," I said. "So you live around here?" "Uh, well sort of," he started. "I guess I do now." "Fair enough, none of my business," I said, trying to put him at ease. There was a Burger King up the street. Not my normal taste, but I couldn't really take him anywhere else, looking the way he was. After I bought us a couple of value meals and sat down inside with him, I noticed he didn't smell so good either. I let him eat in silence, actually enjoying the show as he laid waste to a double whopper in record time. Not until he was on this third coke did I ask him, "So how long you been out on the streets Derrick?" His eyes started to water. "I left a foster home in Portland a week ago. The other guys in the house, they kept beating me up. I'm too old, no one would ever adopt me, the bastards that ran the place didn't care what happened to me as long as they got their check. So I waited till everyone was asleep one night and just took off and hitched my way up here." Perfect again I thought to myself. He was a runaway, but from a foster home. Not many would be looking for him, and certainly not in rural Montana. "I have a proposition for you Derrick." "Sorry Martin, I don't do that kind of thing." "You don't even know what I am going to propose." "I may have only been on the street for a couple of weeks, but I know what old guys like you want from kids like me." Again, if he only knew. "Nothing like that I assure you Derrick. I was just going to let you come back to my place and take a shower, then let you wash your clothes. No funny business, and if you want to earn some money, I have some painting that needs to be done." Which was only partly a lie, I had plenty of funny business in mind, but I also did have some painting that needed doing. "Well," I could tell he was thinking. He had to be broke, and if he didn't want to be sucking cock in dark alleys for his next meal, he needed to do something quick. "I guess I could use some money. How much are you talking about?" "We can discuss that when you see the job. What do you say. I have a nice place out in the country. You will love it. No strings attached. Make up your mind though, I have to get home now, and I am not coming back here to look for you." I could almost see the little devil on one side and the little angel on the other arguing in his head. Every bit of common sense told him not to trust me. But he was hungry and cold, and it was starting to rain again in Seattle. The devil won. "Okay Martin," he said. "You got a deal." "Great!" I said, and to put him at ease I pulled five twenties out of my wallet. "Here's an advance, just so you know I'm serious." His eyes grew wide and he gently took the money and stuff it in his front pocket. "Follow me, my van is right around the corner." He followed me out into the rain, and I he was relived to see I drove a rather ordinary looking Honda minivan. Well ordinary to the casual observer. I had made some modifications that would be apparent to Derrick at the appropriate time. I made a casual glance around to see the alley was deserted where my van was parked. Good, no witnesses. I hit the button and unlocked the doors. I got in at the same time as Derrick. "Fasten your seatbelt. I don't want to get a ticket." Little did he know that once he locked his seatbelt, only I could unlock it. I fired up the van, put some classic rock on the stereo and headed out into traffic. Derrick was quiet, looking out the window and not at me as I headed toward I-90. Once I got on the freeway and settled down for the long drive I looked over and noticed the boy's knees were knocking. He was very nervous. "Uh, how far away do you live anyways?" He asked. "Montana," I answered casually. "Montana! I can't go there! I don't want to go there. Pull over and let me out Martin, right now." he said. "I'm afraid I can't Derrick. You gave me your word and took my money. Your days of running from your problems are over. I'm going to teach you how to be a man Derrick, but before that, you need to learn to be a proper boy first." I was going 70 on the freeway, and I could tell he was trying to figure out his options. He couldn't bail out of the van, and as he soon found out, he couldn't even get his seat belt off or open his door. I had control of all that. He started fighting furiously with the seatbelt. "Let me the fuck out Martin! This isn't funny. You can't do this to me!" "Let's get a few things straight. From now on you will address me as father. I'm your new father Derrick, and I am going to raise you right. Second watch your mouth. You're too young to use that kind of language and if you curse again, I will punish you severely. Do we understand each other?" He tried to use his left hand to grab at the wheel, but I was ready for just such an attack and grabbed his wrist. I may have a bum leg, but I upper arm strength is excellent, and it was no problem holding back a malnourished teenage boy. My hand encircled his wrist entirely and I was able to bring it down to the waiting handcuff. With one end already attached to the ring in the vans floor, I steered with my knees as I snapped the cuff onto his wrist effectively pinning his hand down by his side. "I was hoping we could do this the easy way Derrick, but like all little boys you don't want to listen to your elders." I could tell this kind of talk was pissing him off, but he couldn't figure out what to do next. This was all happening too fast for him. I reached into my door pocket and pulled out a syringe. "Time for you to take a nap Derrick." I jammed the hypo through his pants into his thigh. "OWWW! Fuck! What the hell did you do?" He screeched in his cute little voice. "That fucking hurt!" "That my friend, was a sedative. Since you are moving around so much I had to put it in you intramuscularly, so it will take a bit to take effect, but a your weight, you should be out in about 10 minutes." He was crying now. "You bastard! You said no funny business. You lied to me!" "Yes, afraid so champ, but I didn't have time to explain the niceties to you. Now you are going to start getting sleepy soon, so listen up. I am not going to kill you, or permanently harm you in any way. I meant what I said. You need some male guidance in your life, and me, with the help of some of my friends, are going to give you the attention you have never had in your life. You're gay obviously, or you wouldn't be hanging out in the gay part of town and scamming gay porn in the bookstore. I will teach you how to be the submissive little slut that your were born to be!" "I'm... not... gay. I was just..." "Whatever Derrick. Now you are lying to me. You will be punished for that once we get settled in. For now son, just go to sleep. I remotely reclined his seat a bit as the sedative took effect and soft snores started to come out of him. Phew, he stank. Also as the sedative took effect I noticed a wet spot in front of his cargos. He had pissed himself while he struggled. Ah well, I had to put up stench, as well as painfully hard dick, as I sped through the afternoon and into the evening on the way back to Montana. At a rest area, I pulled into a very secluded spot and pulled out my laptop. Once I got my wireless connection going, I started up PGP and sent an encrypted email to one of my friends. I had rifled through Derricks pockets, retrieved my hundred bucks, and found his wallet. It had a mangled student ID from an Oregon high school in it. He had just turned sixteen last month. I sent his stats to my buddy to do a search to see if anyone was really looking for him. After that I made sure he was still out, unhooked the cuff from his hand, released the seatbelt and pulled him into the cargo area of the van (I had all the seats removed behind the fronts) and laid him out on his back with a pillow under his head. I cuffed ankles together and then to ring in the floor and was about to throw the blanket over him and get started again, but I couldn't help myself. I started rubbing my cock as I looked down at my new boy. It only took a second. Before I even touched him I knew I couldn't last, so I yanked my fly open, gave three quick jerks and the cum started flying out of my cock all over the sleeping kid's face. I leaned down, wiped my cock on his hoodie and licked a bit of cum off of him, before putting my cock away and throwing the blanket over him. The fun was just starting, and Derrick's new life was about to begin. I headed back onto the interstate toward my new house. To be continued in part 2... ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author does not condone the described behavior in real life. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Kristen's collection - Directory 69