I sent Danny back home that day with plenty to think about. I knew he would bend over backwards to please me and to remain under my stewardship. He was desperate and very needy. Just as delicate wine grapes must be taken from the vine at optimal fruition to get the best result, so, too, with faggots like Danny. When they descend to the depths that he had, they are at their most malleable, their most suggestible. When he left that day and I set about planning my training strategems, I felt confident that he could be fully enslaved in fairly short order.
As one might expect, there was always the chance of a panicked resistance to being owned and dominated, despite his craving for it. But I also I knew that that could be assuaged with a bit of temporary pampering and hand-holding, along with a stepped up schedule of cock-feeding. It's not unlike the effect of a pacifier stuck into the mouth of a crying infant. The sucking calms and reassures him.
The day following our encounter, I called Danny to set up his next visit. I smiled when his phone was answered before the first ring was finished. He was hungry.
"Good morning, Danny!" I said.
"Oh! Hello, sir! Good morning to you." he replied, his breath quavering.
"How have you been since our last meeting?" I queried. "You're not angry about the cufflinks, are you?"
"I've been well, sir. The cufflinks? That's okay. I mean they were your's to do with as you wished, after all."
"Just like you yourself, Danny."
"Yes, sir."
"But they were your father's, Danny. He might have worn them when he was courting your mother." I said, probing for any trace of ambivalence.
I arranged some throw pillows on the couch and stretched out.
"He, well... he doesn't need them, really."
"So true. He's dead, after all."
Danny chuckled nervously.
"Did he know that you were queer? Did he know that you enjoyed sucking cocks?"
"He knew, sir. He found some pictures that I'd printed from the internet."
"Oh?"
"Yes, sir. I had taped them to the inside of my closet door, and I would open the door at night when my parents were asleep, and I would worship them." He said.
"Pictures of what exactly? Tell me."
"Pictures of cocks, sir. My father normally wouldn't come into my room, but he had found mice droppings in the attic, and wanted to set traps throughout the house."
"So, he found, what should we call it... your altar? The place where you worshipped? All those pictures of men's cocks. I imagine that erased any doubts he might have had about your manhood." I said, laughing.
"Yes, sir. He confronted me when my mother was out. He was very upset. He called me scum. He called me a lowlife. I was so humiliated." Danny said, and I could imagine the tears rolling down his face.
"It's a difficult argument to refute, Danny boy." I said, not without compassion.
"Yes, he was right, and hearing it from my own father made it feel even truer."
"someoe you naturally look up to. Someone whose approval you seek." I said, encouraging him to say more.
