Scott Sherman - First You Fall

“I’m afraid that old wives’ tale is a little dated,”

Michael said. “And what I’m going to do goes far beyond what you know as ‘hypnotism.’

“Today, for example, I’m going to give you a shot of this. It wil make you very suggestible for a period of about twenty-four hours. In that time, I’m going to convince you that not only am I your friend, but that you find me irresistibly attractive.”

He ran his hand over his huge pectoral muscle.

“My guess is that won’t be too much of a stretch for you.”

Great, I thought. In addition to al his other bad traits, he’s ful of himself.

“Not only wil you stop butting your nose into my business, but you’l find yourself compel ed to come back here tomorrow. And the day after that. Within seven days, you’l be doing anything I say.

“Basical y,” Michael said, “you’l belong to me.

Won’t that be fun?”

Michael walked towards me with the needle. I had a plan. If I timed it just right, I should be able to pul up with my arms and get him with a good kick in the gut.

Unfortunately, that was pretty much it for the plan.

After that, I’d stil be tied up.

Unless I got him right on the nose. With the heel of my foot, at just the right angle, I could drive his nasal bone right into his brain. I’ve heard you can kil a man like that.

That worked for me.

Of course, my odds of pul ing it off were pretty low, but it was the best plan I had.

He was getting closer.

I gripped the ropes that held me to ceiling, getting ready to pul up my knees.

He pul ed the plunger back on the syringe.

Focus, I thought. I visualized the movement of my leg, the arc of my foot as it made contact with the middle of his face. Hit him with the heel, the hardest part, and fol ow through with al my strength.

I was ready.

He was almost within reach.

One more step.

Come on, you bastard.

If this didn’t work, I was dead.

I was ready.

The phone rang. From upstairs came a distinctive ring tone. Darth Vader’s theme song from Star Wars.

Michael lowered the syringe. “Ah,” he said. “Talk about the proverbial saved by the bel. It’s wifey, I’m afraid. But don’t worry.” He grabbed my cock and squeezed hard. I bit my lip to keep from crying out.

“I’l be back soon.”

What “wife?” I wondered. Michael wasn’t married.

He went up the stairs two at a time and closed the door behind him.

This was my chance.

I looked at Paul, who stood ramrod straight awaiting further instructions.

“Paul,” I hissed, “help me!”

He didn’t move.

“Snap out of it!”

Nothing.

“Come on man,” I implored, “wake up.”

I might as wel have been talking to the wal.

I tried to remember how Michael had directed him.

“Paul: Up!”

Zip.

“Paul: Untie!”

Nada.

“Paul: Wake!”

This wasn’t going to work.

I pul ed at my bonds. Nothing. I felt the ropes with my fingers.

Wait, I knew this knot. A standard double eight.

It had been taught to me by Melvin Cuttlebeck, my favorite would-be sadist.

He had also taught me how to get out of one.

I wiggled my fingers. Just enough slack for me to work the knot. I relaxed my mind, took a deep breath, and went to work.

Two minutes later, my first hand slipped free.

Please, I thought, please Michael keep talking to whatever woman you’ve blessed with a Darth Vader ring tone.

It was the work of a minute to free my second hand.

I dropped to the floor as quietly as I could. I was free!

Now that the ropes were untied, blood flowed back into my fingers in a painful rush. I shook it off. I tried to stand up, but my knees were too shaky and my head was too dizzy.

Keep moving. I crawled over to Paul. “Wake up, man, we’ve got to get out of here.” I shook his shoulders.

Stil, nothing.

Al right, no help there.

I looked around for another exit, but the only way out was through the door that Michael had gone through.

A weapon? If my clothes were down here, I could grab my Mace and try to spray him. I looked around.

There, behind me, was what I had been wearing.

Even better, I saw the Taser that had zapped me.

Time for Michael get the shocking surprise, I thought.

“Aren’t you the tricky one?”

Michael’s voice boomed from the bottom of the stairs. I was so focused on grabbing the Taser that I hadn’t heard him come down. There was no way I could get to it before he reached me.

“Oh,” he said, descending the steps, “breaking you is going to be even more fun than I thought.”

I saw through my options. The Taser was too far away for me to make a grab for it. I didn’t think I could take him in a fight, either. I had no weapon, no al y, and nowhere to go. I was naked, total y vulnerable, and at his mercy.

I had nothing. Here I was facing my death and what had I accomplished? I spent the last five years of my life making men’s sexual fantasies come true.

What fucking good could that do me in a situation like this?

Hmmmm, I thought. I looked at Michael in his careful y assembled leather daddy drag. Wasn’t he just another trick playing dress up? He wanted to be the big man? The master?

Lucky for me, I had a lot of experience knowing how to exploit a man’s desires.

You think you’re in charge, Michael? Wel, you’re about to learn that there are al kinds of control, motherfucker.

I was scared. I was hurt. But I could do this.

Focus, Kevin, focus.

“Please sir,” I said, fal ing to my knees again.

“Please, before you give me that needle, just one thing.”

Michael regarded me from where he stood by the stairs.

“Just let me service you,” I said. “Just once. As I am. Let me remember this.

“Look at you,” I said. “Look at those muscles.

Those arms. That chest. Do you know how much I’ve wanted to be here, like this? On my knees before you?

“Give me the shot sir,” I said. “Make me your slave. I want to be yours. Why do you think I went to see you at The Center? Why do you think I met with Paul that night?”

Michael took a step forward. His mouth was slightly open and his breathing grew ragged.

“When Paul told me about what you had done to him, it made me so hot, Sir. I wished it could have been me you were control ing. So I could touch you.

Please you. Serve you.”

I started to crawl towards him, keeping my head turned up so he could see my pleading face.

“You’re so fucking hot, sir. So big. So strong. So much in control.”

Michael wasn’t gay, or even truly bisexual, but this wasn’t about sex. What had his brother told me? It was about power.

Michael was used to using al kinds of tricks to get that power, but had he ever been in a situation where he didn’t have to? Here I was crawling towards him.

Submissive, vulnerable, naked, wil ing. How would he handle that?

Michael’s pants began to fil out.

Got you, fucker.

“Break me to your wil, sir. Hurt me. Use me. I want it.”

I was at his feet. I looked up at his bulging crotch.

“Please let me taste you, Sir. Just once. Take it out.

Please.” I started licking the smooth surface of his boots.

That did it. With a groan, Michael frantical y started unlacing his pants. His big fingers fumbled with the strings. He was shaking.

An eager slave. I could see how badly this was turning him on.

He final y got his pants open. He pul ed out his cock and bal s. Both were oversized, in direct proportion to the rest of his massive body.

Some guys have al the luck, I thought rueful y.