Breaking the Stallion: Chapter 2

by FitBullGoBrr

Olly takes Brock's submission deeper.

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This story contains graphic content and potential trauma cues for sensitive readers. This is purely a work of fiction, by and for consenting adults. Any resemblance to real people or entities is unintended and purely coincidental.

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Chapter 2: Use unrelenting pressure to stop bad behavior.

If not for my collection of footage, waiting in my dorm for Brock's date to end would have felt like an eternity. But I did have my footage, and by the time I received the text from Brock, I was thoroughly chafed. As much as I preached to Brock about self-control, I was chagrined by my own apparent lack.

I was cleaning up when I received Brock's text.

'Hey man, date went great!'

As the three little circles chimed in an out indicating another text, I bristled at Brock's use of 'Man.' I would eventually have to punish him out of his ridiculous straight male vernacular. If all went according to plan, he'd be calling me 'Sir,' 'Master,' or some other honorary. But he wasn't ready for this yet. Not even close. One step at a time.

More messages followed in quick succession.

'Your advice was great!' He followed with a few emojis resembling various hand gestures. Goddamn was Brock hot, but so profoundly vapid. He would be easy to break. The messages continued.

'She hinted at me coming over. But I knew that I couldn't cuz, well, u know...'

'I made up some bs about wanting to take it slow. Fuck that was hard, Man. I wanted to take her home right then and there.'

'But she seemed to really vibe with that bro. Good advice!'

I was confused by how this followed, but Brock inserted a few emojis that resembled flames.

'Anyway, thanks again! I'm ready to get this thing off me.'

'I'm omw now'

I knew that this was the moment where the pressure would start to be difficult. But after a life of breaking horses, I knew what to expect. Brock would ask me to unlock him. I would refuse. I would give a well-reasoned (albeit pretextual) explanation, but would refuse, nonetheless. Brock would become angry. He might retaliate. But I would never let him see me react in kind. I would be unrelenting until he relented. I was an unstoppable force against Brock, a very movable object.

I put away the evidence of my indiscretion as Brock made his way over to my dorm. I then sat on my bed, pulled out a book, and waited as Brock made his way to me. The knock at my door came much quicker than expected. Brock was in a hurry to get his release.

I was in no hurry as I placed my book on the nightstand and made my way to the door. Brock knocked again as I strolled leisurely to the door.

"Hey, Man!" He called through the door hurriedly. "I'm ready to be let out, you know?"

That he spoke so vaguely to avoid the other dorm residents from understanding amused me. But that he continued to refer to me as 'Hey, Man!' annoyed me. I considered keeping his cock locked up for another few days just for that. Punishing him out of that repulsive straight male vernacular would be a high priority.

But I would take one step at a time. Brock would be mine. I already considered him mine. I just needed to break him first. Little by little, I would use my firm hand to slowly break down his barriers and sense of self.

"Bro," as Brock called through the door, his normally resonating voice was an octave higher than usual. "Anytime now, Man."

I paused on the other side of the door and relished the moment. In my pocket was a key. Brock needed this key because, earlier that day, I had locked his massive cock up in a chastity cage. And now, this delicious male specimen needed me to unlock him for relief. I had all the power here, and I was in no hurry to let this moment pass.

"Hold your horses, Cowboy," I spoke casually at the door, "We'll get you taken care of." I was intentionally vague, making no promises to unlock him.

As soon as I unlocked the deadbolt and turned the handle, Brock's body nearly mowed me over as he burst through the threshold and into my dorm. He spoke rapidly and in barely coherent sentences.

"The date went great! Thanks again for the advice, Brah. Now let's get that key!"

"Woah, woah," I raised my hands toward Brock.

My posture and tone betrayed a lifetime of training animals. Unintentionally, my voice and posture exactly matched the voice and posture that I previously employed in my horse taming days. Conveying steadfast calmness through demeanor, stance, tone, and volume worked wonders on a stallion that had gotten itself worked up. Likewise, Brock slowed down and slowed his breathing.

I continued speaking in a low, calm voice. "I'm glad to hear that your date went well, Stud." The term's appropriateness wouldn't yet occur to Brock.

"Have a seat," I continued, motioning toward my desk chair while I sat on my bed, "Tell me more about how it went."

"I mean, sure," Brock looked uneasy. His voice still conveyed a frantic urgency. "But can we get this thing off of me first?"

I looked at Brock for several moments before I spoke. When asserting dominance over an animal, it is crucial to not respond immediately to the beast's actions. To lead is, tautologically, not to follow. Brock stirred as I stared at him in silence.

Finally, I spoke. "The point is for you to master self-control. If you acted on your impulses by making a move on that poor girl, you would have ruined the date. Even if you would have succeeded and were in her dorm fucking her right now, you wouldn't be establishing a real relationship. Don't you agree?"

"Well, sure, but--"

"That's right. So, let's cool down for a second and talk first. Now look at me, get your mind off your cock for just a few minutes and talk. Tell me: how was the date?"

But Brock's mind would, of course, still be on his cock. While he was looking at me and speaking to me, Brock would be wrestling with his urge to take out his cock and pleasure himself. In short, Brock's mind would associate a desperate need for release with my face and my voice. This night was going according to plan.

For a moment, Brock stirred in his seat. He looked at me with an anxious, pleading expression. After several moments, he straightened himself, and responded.

"It was great! We talked a lot, she had a good time, I had a good time, and the food was good."

"Brock," I leaned back where I sat on the bed, "You're not going to get out sooner by giving me these perfunctory non-answers. Tell me more. Tell me about her. Tell me what she said, how you reacted, what you said, and how she reacted."

As I sat on the bed listening, I casually crossed my legs. Holding such control over Brock was going to my head. But it was also going to my cock, as I could tell from the straining I felt in my sweats. I didn't want Brock to see how hard my control over him made me. Yet.

We spent the next hour discussing the details of Brock's date. He began by giving brief, one-word answers. But with some gentle (albeit firm) probing he opened up. Brock shared his feelings about the girl, his anxieties about her reaction, and his disappointment that he couldn't take her home afterward. And each time he tried to end the conversation to discuss his release, I would hold my hand up to silence him, then ask another question.

My long-term goal was to normalize control over the timing of his masturbation. His releases would need to be random and arbitrary in order to break Brock from acting on his own impulses seeing women. At the same time, firmness required that a dominant follow through with expectations that the dominant set. I'd have to release him eventually.

It was well after midnight when we finished our discussion. Brock became adamant about his release.

"Alright man, I've done what you said. And it worked great! Now you gotta let me out!" Brock placed one hand on his hip and the other on the back of his head. His brow furrowed and he looked down at me impatiently. My years of training kicked in as I acted to calm him. My posture responded as if I were addressing a reactive animal; slow, steady, and unreactive to his aggression.

I leaned back and looked at him, then looked at the clock, then back to Brock. I maintained eye contact in silence until Brock stirred uncomfortably. As he shifted his weight in the chair, I could see the muscles in his chest and abs shifting under his too-tight shirt. This sight fueled my arousal, solidifying my resolve to keep at this until that muscle-bound hunk was mine to fuck. That bulging chest would be mine. Those abs would be mine. The jawline, the arms, and that cock would be mine. And that ass would be mine to fuck at my leisure.

I stood up without replying to Brock. I pulled a blanket off of my bed and laid it across the ground. Likewise, I took a pillow and laid it at my feet. I pointed at the ground.

"You're tired, and I want you to get some sleep. Remember that we're practicing self-control. You can barely get your homework in on time because you're so busy jacking it. But I am going to help you. Now lay here, go to sleep."

Brock tried to interrupt but stopped himself when I held up a finger. As I looked into his eyes, he knew that I held the power here.

I pointed down at the blanket as if I was telling a dog to go to his bed.

"Sleep. My alarm will wake us up at six o'clock AM. I will unlock you then."

"Fuck, that's early--" Brock started to complain, until I interrupted him.

"Would you rather I unlock you later?"

"N-no!"

"Good. We will wake up at six AM. I'll unlock you and then allow you some relief."

I emphasized the word 'allow.' It was important to emphasize early on that the stud's pleasure would occur at my discretion. I was also intentional with my promise that Brock would 'get relief,' and not 'relieve himself.' He didn't know it yet, but Brock had experienced his last orgasm without my control and supervision.

Brock sulked from the chair and knelt on the blanket at my feet. He started to pick up the blanket and reposition the pillow. He looked up, thought for a moment, and started to speak.

"Hey man, I'm putting a lot of trust in you here. But can you just unlock me for a sec? This is fucking killing me!"

A cocktail of thoughts swirled through my head. Superficially, I was stunned by the arousal that flowed through me at Brock's image. He was literally on his knees, begging me for release. I quickly sat on the bed, knowing that a massive erection was likely to spring up, giving me away.

Second, I inhaled as relief and triumph flowed through my body with my breath. Relief filled me at the realization that Brock had implicitly conceded to my authority when he asked--not demanded or expected but asked--me to release him. As I exhaled, triumph took the place of relief when I considered that, whether or not he realized it, Brock had just verbally accepted my authority over him.

Relishing our relative positions, but without wanting to fly too close to the sun, I placed my hand comfortingly on Brock's shoulder.

"I'm really proud of you, Friend," I spoke in a low, comforting voice, "Deep down, you're a good guy. I'm going to help you show women what a good guy you are."

Brock looked back down at the makeshift bedding and continued to arrange the pillow and blanket. "So, no?"

"Not yet," I smiled, tightening my grip on his shoulder. It took everything I had not to maniacally laugh at my victory.

I continued. "After you get your release, we'll go to the gym. If you want to separate yourself from the other straight guys, you really need to put more emphasis on your ass. I'll show you some good exercises. We're then going to spend some time on homework before our first class. Now go to bed."

I didn't give Brock an opportunity to object. Specifically, I had big plans for Brock's body, and I wanted to bring up these 'suggestions' while he had little power to deny me. Eventually, I would have him on a bland but high protein diet. I would insist that he increase the size of that bulbous, muscular ass. But again, I reassured myself, one baby step at a time.

---

When my alarm woke us up, I slowly rolled over and swung my feet over the bed. Not looking at the ground, I inadvertently rested my feet on Brock's body. Even through his shirt, my feet could feel the rippling muscles on his side and back. This boy was a specimen.

I didn't move my feet immediately. I enjoyed the image of using this stud as a personal footstool. I looked down to see him yawning and holding the backs of his hands up against his eyes. He scratched the back of his head with one hand, ruffling his dark blond hair.

Looking at his open mouth and ruffled hair, I couldn't help but fantasize about grabbing a fistful of that beautiful, tussled hair to pull that open mouth onto my cock. I pictured myself moving my fingers from the top of his head, through his hair to the back, and closing my fingers to keep a tuft of hair between them. I then imagined using this bilateral grip to pull Brock's head back and forth between my legs, forcing my cock in and out of his throat. I felt my own cock stand at full attention at the fantasy.

I didn't want to waste the opportunity.

I took my feet off of Brock and stood next to him. My cock made a conspicuous tent in my sweats. I looked down at him and put my hand on my hips.

"Alright, Big Guy! Time for your release!"

Brock smiled as he opened his eyes. But upon seeing my tented sweats towering above him, his expression quickly turned from glee to shock.

"Uhhh, Bud," Brock pointed at my groin, "Y-you doing okay there?"

I understood Brock's implicit conundrum. He obviously would have been uncomfortable with me standing next to him, sporting an obvious erection. This was the discomfort that I was presently trying to extinguish by normalizing this behavior. But Brock--the clueless, but generally kind straight male that he was--probably didn't want to appear homophobic in pointing it out.

"Oh, this?" I feigned surprise as I looked down at myself, "Just some morning wood. It'll go away in a sec. Happens to all of us, right?"

Brock chuckled uncomfortably.

"Well," I continued, laughing at the irony, "To those of us who aren't locked up! Let's get you out of that."

As I expected, Brock's eagerness for release overrode his discomfort with the fully erect, gay man standing over him.

"Great," Brock shifted himself from under me and brought himself up on the ground. Standing up, this bull of a man towered over me. He held out his open palm, expectantly. "Now where's that key?"

I looked at Brock's hand, then at his face, feigning confusion. "Wait--what? Were you expecting to do this yourself?"

"Uhhhh," Brock chuckled nervously, "Well, ideally, I like it when a girl takes care of it, but I'll have to manage for now."

"Hmmm," I pretended to contemplate as I moved my hand underneath my chin, "That wouldn't be the paragon of 'self-control' if I just handed you the key and allowed you to go into a bathroom and pump your cock like an animal, would it?"

"I mean, we talked about this, right? You said I could relieve myself at six o'clock sharp! You literally said, Man!"

Despite myself, I grinned. By complaining about my not giving allowances under my own terms, Brock had again implicitly accepted my authority over his orgasms. And notably, while this dense ball of muscle could have easily turned me upside down and shaken the key from my pocket, he instead looked at me with pleading eyes. Pleading for a release. Release that was ultimately mine to provide.

"Technically," I said after a pause, "We agreed that you'd 'get your release.' Not that I'd just hand you the key so that you could curl up and pump yourself empty like a gorilla."

Not that I'd mind watching that.

I continued. "You're a gentleman, Brock. And a gentleman can control this type of thing. Now strip down."

"WHAT?" Anger flashed again in Brock's eyes.

I raised my hand. I knew that I was probably pushing him too far, but my eagerness got the best of me.

"We're just bros, right? We've both been to the gym locker rooms. You're going to do this in a controlled fashion. Besides, I don't want you to hurt yourself when trying to unlock this thing. Or worse: wouldn't it suck if you accidentally broke the lock and we had to involve a locksmith?"

Brock gulped at the thought. He then pulled his shirt off in one quick motion and started to unbutton his jeans. As his hands descended to his pants, his biceps pushed his massive pectoral muscles together and upward. With this effect, his pecs looked like solid spheres erupting from his chest. His abdominals flexed and shifted as he unzipped and unbuttoned his pants. As he bent to push the jeans down his legs, I could see his dorsals ripple and flex. I inhaled as this marble statue of a man stepped out from his jeans, then righted himself.

After blinking a few times at the angles of Brock's body, I cleared my throat. I struggled to contain my grin. This development could not have progressed more smoothly. I had planned to normalize frequent nonsexual nudity, though I hadn't planned for such a smooth and easy transition. I wanted Brock to be naked around me. He eventually would spend his days naked around me. But first I needed to break his mind.

I cleared my throat. "We'll need the underwear off too, Bud."

Brock sighed as he complied, pushing his boxer briefs down to his ankles then kicking them off. As his waistband descended his powerful thighs, I could see the inner curvature of Brock's Adonis belt. This part of the male form never failed to make my mouth water.

As Brock righted himself again, his massive cock bounced in its restraint. The bulbous head strained purple against its prison. I was glad that I'd selected a metal model, as Brock's powerful girth would have surely burst from a plastic cage. Too uncomfortable to stand directly in front of me, Brock positioned himself slightly to the side. I couldn't complain, because this allowed me a newfound view of his unyielding ass.

Brock's ass protruded outwards. Each cheek was a bulging mass of dense flesh. But it wasn't like a woman's ass; indeed, the sides of each cheek came inward at the middle, kept in place by tense, powerful glutes. This was likely the product of years playing football and lifting weights. Though Brock's ass maintained its firmness as he moved, I couldn't help but imagine making it jiggle with my thrusting cock. With that thought, my member ached under the strain of its own rigidity. Between the awesome sight of this hunk and the power that I held over him, I could have exploded then and there.

With great effort, I pulled my attention from Brock's magnificent ass to look him in the eye. Obviously uncomfortable with his predicament, Brock had trouble returning my gaze. He glanced at me furtively from the side of his eyes, only to quickly dart a glance toward the other side of the room. By contrast, I maintained my posture such that I looked at him with square shoulders and penetrating eyes. My dominant, forward posture against his submissive sideways look established, without any doubt, who was in charge here.

I stepped toward him, closing the distance. I stood less than a foot from him, looking up at him. Brock looked around the room nervously rather than return my eye contact. I slowly pulled the key from my pocket. Maintaining a firm grip, I held the key upward and next to my face.

"Look at me, Brock."

Brock glanced down at me, then to the side, then to the floor, swallowed, and then raised his eyes to meet mine. Even with our difference in height, Brock's head was bowed submissively as he looked at me. I grinned at his discomfort.

"You may relieve yourself," I spoke slowly, enunciating every syllable. If my word was to be the law, then my word must have gravity. "But you need to do it here. Supervised."

I looked at Brock, masking my fear. Every time I pulled Brock over another threshold of submission or humiliation, I feared that he would kick my ass, tell me to go to hell, and never speak to me again. I controlled my breathing and looked at him, maintaining eye contact.

Brock hesitated a moment before responding. "S-so, th-that will help me control myself?"

"Yes."

"And th-that's going to help my grades? And help get girls?"

"That's right."

Brock exhaled and put his middle and forefinger against his temple.

"Alright," Brock's voice conveyed apprehension, but also a vein of resignation. "Let's do this, Man. You haven't steered me wrong yet."

"That's a good boy," I winked and punched Brock's arm playfully, then descended to my knees. Holding the key in my right hand, I pinched the lock with my left thumb and index finger positioning it upward. Dexterously and with one smooth motion, I unlocked the small padlock, pulled it from its ring, dropped the padlock and key into my pocket, then pulled the cage from the head of Brock's cock.

Instantly, his cock straightened and lengthened, as if it were a jack-in-the-box with the handle turned. There was just enough time to move my face before Brock's manhood erupted forward from its restraint. But I chose not to.

Upon reflection, I later realized two reasons that I didn't pull my head back when Brock's veiny dick sprung to life. First, my long-term goal was to normalize both casual nudity and bodily contact between the two of us. Eventually, I would train him to yearn for my touch. But normalization and comfort would be the first step. Second, it took everything I had not to devour that monster that tantalized me with its weighty bounce. Letting it strike my face felt like a compromise between my own self-control and my greater desire to take it in my mouth.

When the head of Brock's member struck my cheek, I laughed casually. "Hey there, Big Guy! I know you're excited, but let's try to take a breath here."

Though despite my admonition. I didn't want him to stop for a breath. Nor did I want to slow down. I wanted to shove that white and pink leviathan down my throat before throwing him on the bed and fucking his ass with my own bursting cock. I exhaled to control myself.

Brock unconsciously moved his hand toward his member to control it. I wasn't sure if he meant for me to see, but I could see his thumb subtly caressing the base of his shaft as he pulled it away from me. I stood up, then backed myself up to my chair. I lowered myself down and crossed my legs. I didn't want Brock to see that I was still sporting my morning wood. Nor did I want him to see that it was even larger since I 'woke up.' And I suspected that, by now, my sweats exuded with the evidence of my precum. I leaned back casually in the chair.

I was pleasantly surprised to see that Brock waited for my instruction. I half expected that, as soon as the cage was off, he would grip his cock with one hand and go to town. I was unsure how much of Brock's hesitation was due to my acclimating him toward waiting for instruction, or his natural predisposition as a submissive.

"I can see you're excited," I kept my tone authoritative, but more casual than before, "I bet you're not going to last long."

"N-nah, probably not." Brock laughed nervously, still holding the base of his shaft. His thumb continued to slowly stroke the base. I couldn't tell whether this was something he did unconsciously, or if he was hoping that I wouldn't see. I intended to normalize masturbation--indeed, only under my supervision did I ever want him to masturbate--so I said nothing.

I was about to guide Brock through another threshold of submission. I was a master at taming horses, but I had never yet tamed a man. And with a prize like Brock, I was nervous about pushing him too far. But the image of his rippling flesh standing before me and holding his massive member lit a fire in me that overcame my fear. As Brock held his cock in his hand, subtly stroking the base, it pointed directly at me, but cyclically nudged away and to my left. It looked as if his cock was beckoning me to go on. As if Brock, the unconscious sub that I knew he was, beckoned me to push him farther.

I straightened my shoulders, sat upright in my chair, and looked intensely into Brock's eyes.

"Stroke."

Without speaking, Brock obeyed. His hand moved slowly from the base toward the head. His hand then pulled back again toward the base.

"Again."

Brock obeyed again, moving his hand from the base of his cock toward the tip, stopped for just a moment with his hand gripped around the head, and moved it back.

"Again."

Brock obeyed again, moving slightly faster. As I watched, Brock glanced nervously back at me. His eye contact was unsteady--he periodically broke my gaze, looking down and to the side. His brow betrayed his nerves. His inner brow pointed up, contrasted against the relaxed outer brow. But Brock's upward turned lips and opened mouth betrayed his eagerness. He felt uncomfortable. But he needed this. Brock, the insatiable animal that he was, needed his release so badly that he was unwilling to argue with me about my supervision. In short, between my control and Brock's lasciviousness, my control emerged victorious.

"Again."

Brock stroked his cock again.

"Again."

He obeyed again.

"Keep stroking. I know you're close. You've been a good boy. You've earned your reward."

Unrestricted, the floodgates of Brock's appetite lifted. When his desperation took over, I had never seen such a ravenous animal. Brock stroked faster. With his brow still upturned, his cheeks tensed, revealing cute little dimples. He looked as though he was pushing toward the release of his life as a low moan escaped his lips.

I didn't want to risk killing his mood, so I waited until his pace increased and I knew that he was about to erupt before whispering, "Gooood boy." I lengthened the syllables, emphasizing the words.

Brock repeatedly and sharply inhaled. His release burst out like a pent-up animal. He exhaled as his cock exploded. I'd watched much porn in my time, but I had hardly seen such a prodigious load erupt from a man's dick before. Clearly, Brock had a great deal of 'tension' built up. I wondered how much tension resulted from his submission and my power over him. Though it was unclear whether Brock consciously realized the extent of his submission and my commensurate power. I knew Brock. I knew that, deep down, he was submissive. And I knew that my power over him would create a reaction, even if his mind associated is solely with his date with Cindy.

Brock blushed as he stood before me, bent over slightly from the exertion. As his hand left his shaft, a stream of cum dangled between the ball of Brock's thumb and the end of his shaft. Blood flooded Brock's cheeks as he examined the mess on the sheet. His cheeks darkened when he saw that some expulsion had hit my pantleg.

"Good boy," I whispered one more time. My goal--as it was with any animal--was to tether the trigger phrase, 'Good boy,' with pleasure in Brock's mind. The 'unconditioned stimulus,' Brock's orgasms, needed to be paired with the 'conditioned stimulus,' the trigger phrase. Like in classic animal training, I wanted Brock to associate the trigger phrase, 'Good boy,' a pleasure response.

"I can see that you had a lot that you were holding back, Big Guy!"

I hoped to normalize discussion of Brock's orgasms. I also lightened my voice, trying as hard as I could to sound as casual as possible. If I was to normalize Brock's nudity around me and mutual masturbation, I would need to discuss it as if we had done something as casual and normative as sharing a video game. If Brock resisted or expressed shame or regret, I would ignore his misgivings. Even if that constituted gaslighting. As far as Brock should be concerned, this is normal. Being naked around me is normal. Me watching Brock masturbate is normal. It's what good friends do.

Brock hesitated before slowly backing up and sitting on the bed. He was still completely naked, with red cheeks and wide, horrified eyes. I could tell that the shock of what transpired was setting in. I knew that I needed to jump in and work to normalize this before his post-nut clarity kicked in.

"Nice work, Man!" I kept my legs crossed but leaned back in my chair. It required all my executive function not to allow a diabolical, Chesire-cat grin to spread across my face. "I can tell by how much you came that you were really worked up. Waiting must have been hard, but you did it, Buddy! I'm proud of you."

Brock shook his head, keeping his eyes on the sheet where he made most of his mess.

"Uhhh, yeah... S-sorry about y-your--"

He started to gesture toward the sheet and my pant leg. I interrupted him with a dismissive wave, a laugh, and a casual head shake. I would not validate this shame response.

"Don't you worry about it, Big Guy! It's really no big deal. Who doesn't get cum on a sheet or on some sweats every now and again? Just put the sheet into the hamper and go hop in the shower."

I would retrieve that sheet for my own use later. But Brock didn't need to know this. Brock complied, crumpling the sheet and throwing it in the basket in the corner. He sauntered off into the private bathroom that abutted my room.

As soon as the door was closed, I swiveled my chair toward my laptop and hit the space bar. The screen illuminated and a message box appeared: 'Video Saved.' I'd have to clip the last eight hours or so later, but I was glad that I had turned on my webcam to record the night before. The voyeuristic pervert that I was, I'd be remiss to miss an opportunity. And my preparation paid significant dividends.

By the time I heard the shower turn off, I'd pumped two loads into a sock while watching the video's last few minutes. I'd been holding off on this far too long. And I would use that video many times in the future.

When Brock emerged from the bathroom, I was laying casually on the bed and looking at my phone. As far as Brock was concerned, I had simply scrolled social media while he showered. I peeked at Brock from around the screen.

His body was covered from the waist down with a towel. The rest of his godlike, rugged form was bare. He looked uncomfortable as he slowly approached his clothes, which lay scattered on the floor.

"Before you put those back on, don't forget your cage." I continued to look at my phone while I spoke. I wanted to come across as nonchalantly as possible, as if I were reminding Brock to charge his phone.

"B-But," Brock looked confused, "The date with Cindy is over. Why do I need to put it back on?"

Conspicuously, Brock framed his statement as a question rather than an objection or outright refusal. This would be easier than I thought.

I rolled my eyes as if Brock was telling a joke. "That wasn't just about that date, you dunce!" I laughed, trying to make my remark come across as a casual jab. "We both know that your grades will continue to slip if you don't keep wearing it. And we don't want you to lose yourself and do something to Cindy you might regret, right?"

"Well, no..."

"I'll help you." I swung my legs over the bed and leaned forward. I then pulled the small padlock and key from my pocket. The cage and ring attachment were on the ground near my feet, so I retrieved them and held one piece in each hand. I beckoned for Brock to approach. He complied.

When Brock was in arm's reach, I grabbed one end of his towel and yanked it off from his body. Like nudity itself, I wanted to normalize me removing Brock's clothes. Particularly without asking.

With one hand, I slid the ring down his member. With the other, I pulled each ball through the ring and affixed it against the base of his groin. I then pressed the cage against the head of his cock. Like last time, his cock shrunk slightly at the cold touch of metal. When the cage was close enough to the loop in the ring to which the padlock would go through, I swiftly pushed the padlock in and snapped it shut. The key fell out into my open palm. I quickly put the key into my pocket and thumped the side of the cage. Brock grimaced.

I patted Brock on his hip, allowing my fingers to graze his tantalizing glutes.

"Don't worry, Big Guy. You'll get relief again in no time. Now put your shorts on--we need to go to the gym!"

---

A pattern developed over the next several weeks. Brock and I had most of our classes together and studied together, so most of his waking time was with me. Brock would periodically ask me for release. I rarely obliged him. Instead, I would let him know at arbitrary times that he was to be released and--under my supervision--relieve himself. As I had planned, his discomfort faded with each of our 'sessions.'

Equally as important, after about the dozenth time that I denied him his 'relief' when he requested it, he stopped requesting it altogether. This was an important step. In essence, Brock had implicitly given up his own agency in deciding when he would get off. He may not have realized it, but this conspicuous absence of pleading represented a significant step in his ultimate submission. From that point on, I was the active initiator for his release. Brock was merely a passive recipient.

By the beginning of the third month in our new dynamic, I felt that Brock was ready to go deeper.

"Have you ever tried prostate stimulation?" I asked Brock this seemingly at random. We had just finished a long night studying calculus and were playing video games. We both sat on the edge of my bed as we stared at the little TV that I'd set up across from my bed.

The question confused Brock. "'Prostate stimulation'? Like, sticking things up your ass?"

I laughed. "It's more complicated than that. A lot of men--and not just gay men--can get better orgasms when they massage their prostate."

Brock was unusually thoughtful in his response. "Nah. I mean, I don't have a problem with that in theory, ya' know? Just not something I'm into."

"But you haven't tried it?"

"No Olly," he laughed, "I've never tried sticking anything up my ass to get off." He quickly added, "Not that I'd have a problem with it or anything. Just not my thing."

I appreciated that Brock, albeit not a thoughtful and engaged person, was considerate enough not to want to sound homophobic. Admittedly, it wouldn't have been homophobic for a person not to be interested in prostate play. But I saw no reason to reassure him when his anxieties led him down the path I wanted to lead.

"So, you haven't tried it," I spoke slowly, as if I were confused and trying to understand what he was saying, "But you're not into it? Isn't that like saying that you're not into spinach, having never tried spinach? That doesn't make sense."

"Well, I just don't think I'd be into it, ya' know?"

I persisted. "That's unusually closed minded for you, Big Guy."

"N-nah, I mean not that I wouldn't--"

I interrupted him. "I'll make you a deal. Tomorrow, we'll go to that adult store down the road. We'll get you a toy--nothing too fancy--so you can give it a try. If on any given day you don't have an orgasm after thirty minutes of prostate massage, then I'll unlock you and you'll get to relieve yourself."

Brock was silent for a moment. This proposal seemed to him to be too good to be true. "R-really? Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"D-do we have to wait until tomorrow?"

This was perfect. Brock wanted it today. Brock had just implicitly, and by his own volition, asked me whether we could go the sex shop right now, buy him an anal toy, and let him fuck himself with it. My cock stirred in my pants at this development.

I kept my response casual. "Well, sure. If you don't want to wait."

I wanted Brock to be more specific. I wanted Brock to ask me directly what he was asking for implicitly.

Brock's voice broke as he spoke, "Well, yeah. I'm pretty sure that place is open late, right? And this way, we're less likely to run into someone we know than we are during the day."

He was rationalizing his eagerness. I wouldn't let him.

"I don't think that's much of a risk," I responded coolly, not taking my eyes from the screen, "I've never seen anyone from the university go there." In other words, you're going to have to ask me, you thirsty man-whore.

"Oh. Well, that's true. I just... Do you really think we need to wait until tomorrow?"

Now he was trying to put the ball back in my court. Not a skillful tactic if he really wanted to get off sooner. But I was game. I decided to ask him directly what I wanted him to tell me directly.

"It doesn't sound like this is about being caught. Do you just want to get off a little sooner?"

Brock hesitated. I had trained him well not to try to initiate his own release. But this training--albeit effective for my long-term goals--was not helpful here. I decided to ease him into it.

"If you ask me," I continued, "We can go tonight. Do you want to try to get off sooner, Big Guy? I'd be down to go if you want to try prostate play tonight."

"Y-yeah," Brock's chiseled face was bright red as he spoke, "Can we go tonight?"

Good boy.

"Sure!" I responded affirmatively but kept my tone light. Best to maintain the framing that this was something that Brock was asking for. Though I had planted the seed, the timing was such that I could later frame Brock fucking himself as something that he asked for.

---

I was mildly disappointed to find the adult store empty of shoppers upon our arrival. I had hoped that I could use this experience to acclimate my sub to public displays of submission and impaling himself. Interactions with the staff would have to do.

I guided Brock toward the anal toy section, which was immediately adjacent to the dildos. An advantage to such a small shop was that there would be little need to guide him to separate sections. Given Brock's enthusiasm for release, I hoped to progress things faster than I'd originally planned.

Brock and I examined the toys. I was surprised by his lack of discernment as he repeatedly said things like, "Oh this should work," or "Yeah, this one looks good." Clearly, he just wanted to try something, fail, and thereby earn his release. I wouldn't let him off so easily.

"It seems like you don't know exactly what you're looking for," I mused, "Let's maybe expand our horizons."

I stepped across the aisle to the dildos. I then reached out and grabbed my target. This was something I'd been eyeing for Brock for a while. It was a seven-inch dildo with an internal vibrator and extender. The toy would enlarge starting at the base, then move the enlarged portion toward the tip while extending, giving the user the feeling of being fucked. Most crucially, the toy could be controlled by an app.

"Here," I spoke blithely as I handed the box to Brock, "Let's try this for you."

"This is... a lot. I'm not sure if this is really... my thing." Brock's eyes grew wider and wider as he looked at the pictures and read the description on the box. "I mean, to each their own, right? But I don't know if --"

"No," I pulled the box from his hand, grabbed a bottle of silicon-compatible lube from a shelf, and turned toward the front counter, "This will be perfect for you. Let's check out and go."

Brock looked like he wanted to protest further. But my presumptive response combined with his enthusiasm for release that night precluded any further objections. I smiled when I noticed the cashier.

Behind the register and leaning against the wall looking at her phone, the only employee working that hour was a petite brunette girl. She looked to be in her early to mid-twenties at most. She wore leggings, a skirt, and a vest that did little to compliment her form. But she had a lovely heart-shaped face and great hair. She wasn't exactly a stunner, but I planned to use her to further humiliate Brock. In short, I wanted to take every opportunity I could to implicitly emasculate him in front of girls. I also needed to take every opportunity to establish dominance over him with women observing. This would further break down his straight-male persona and establish his dependence on me for pleasure.

"Have you heard much about this product?" I asked the cashier. She looked up from her phone, startled by the interruption. I continued. "It's this Big Fella's first. If it doesn't fit or doesn't work, would he be able to return it?"

I turned around and gestured at Brock, whose cheeks flushed a brighter shade of red than I'd ever seen. Perfect.

I turned back and looked at the cashier. "And it can be controlled by an app, right? Can it be linked to apps on more than one phone? Like, if more than one person wanted to control it at the same time while it's inside him, would that be possible?"

I could feel Brock's body going rigid behind me. Notably, I couldn't hear him breathing. The poor girl at the counter stuttered for a moment.

"I-I'm not sure. I just started this week. But I can call the manager if you need--"

"No need!" Frankly, I didn't give a fuck about her thoughts on the toy. I had done plenty of research. And she had served her purpose. I pulled out my credit card and handed it to the girl. After she bagged our purchase up, Brock and I walked back in silence.

---

When we returned to my dorm, I excitedly opened the bag and handed the box to Brock. I felt like it would be symbolically meaningful if he unboxed it and set it up. I sat on the chair and watched him work.

"Are you excited?" I asked him as he worked on the tape. Frustrated with the tape lining the box's edges, Brock grabbed one side of the box and ripped it open. "Well, that answers my question."

Brock pulled the toy from its cloth cover and examined it. He looked uncomfortable with the device in his hand. I would need to work to change that. I leaned forward and snapped a photo of the QR code inside the box.

"What are you doing?" Brock asked, looking at me and then my phone quizzically.

"Just downloading the app and seeing if I can access the device!"

This was a lie. I already had the app on my phone. I just needed to scan the access code to Brock's device to control it electronically. I paired the device via Bluetooth.

"Alright," I stood from my chair and walked toward the bed. I pulled off a sheet and laid it across the floor. "Get ready for your release."

Out of habit, Brock knew exactly what to do. He stood up and disrobed. He set his clothes in a pile in the corner of the room, and stood before me, presenting himself. Good boy.

I grasped the toy, pulled it from Brock's hand, and set its base on the ground with the tip pointing upward. I retrieved the bottle of lube from the bag and applied several squirts to the tip.

"Alright, Cowboy. Straddle the toy with your legs and squat down. I'll help you guide it in."

"Wait," Brock held his hand out, "So thirty minutes, right? And once that's done, I get released?"

"Not what we agreed, Cowboy," I chuckled slyly, "If you haven't cum after thirty minutes, then you get released."

Brock nodded as if I had just answered in the affirmative. He straddled the dildo with his heels slightly in front of it, then squatted his ass down until he felt the tip against his ass cheek. I knelt in front of him, enjoying the view of his abs, thighs, and caged member. I gripped the toy and angled the head against his hole.

"Now lower," I commanded.

I held the toy as Brock lowered himself. This was clearly the first time that he had put something inside himself, as his face contorted into a mixture of fear and confusion.

"Exhale. Deep breaths. Relax. You got this, Bud."

I tried to console him as he continued to lower himself onto the toy. The dildo wasn't terribly big, but for Brock's virgin hole it likely felt enormous. I removed my hand as he slid down, but not without grazing the muscular globes of his ass cheek. His inner brow rose as he continued to slide down. Eventually, he let out a low moan as it bottomed out inside of him. His ass rested directly on the sheet. His breath came in short and sharp bursts.

"Sloooow, deeeep breaths," I whispered in a low, slow voice. I found my voice and posture drawing from my roots as a horse trainer.

"Okay. Okay. Okay." Brock repeated. After a moment, his staccato breathing subsided, and he returned to normal. "Thirty minutes."

'Nope,' I thought to myself, 'You're not getting off that easily.' I laughed to myself at the unintentional pun.

I pulled out my phone and activated a low vibration in the dildo.

"W-woah! You didn't say you'd do this!"

"Be a good boy and trust me," I commanded as I sat back on my chair, "I only promised you release if you don't finish within thirty minutes." I looked Brock directly in the eye. "You're going to finish within thirty minutes."

I turned the vibration up slightly. Brock's breaths again came in short, staccato bursts. I crossed my legs to hide my now-rigid cock tenting my jeans. I looked at Brock with a devious grin.

"How's it feeling, Bud?"

"G-good. P-p-p-pretty intense though."

"Relax! It'll feel much better if you can relax your sphincter. Although, flexing gives the toy more direct access to your 'p-spot,' so no complaints if you don't!"

Brock slowed his breathing again. In turn, I turned up the vibration, making his breath short again. I was having the time of my life.

After another minute, I turned on the pulse-and-lengthen feature. I hadn't broken down Brock enough to fuck him just yet, but I would enjoy seeing how his face would look when I did.

Brock did not disappoint. His brow furrowed, his eyes turned upward and narrowed, his jaw hung open, and a low, breathy moan escaped his lips.

"F-f-f-f-fuuuuck... W-w-w-w-w-whaaaat I-i-i-i-iiiis th-th-th-thiiiis?"

Brock stuttered in time with the methodical pulsing in his ass. I nearly exploded in my pants at his reaction. I had waited so long for this moment. The vision of Brock--that godlike Adonis--taking a toy up his ass and completely under my control was my ultimate dream come true. I was in heaven.

"It's the pulse feature. Apparently, it simulates what it feels like to be fucked. It seems like you're enjoying it?"

Brock didn't respond verbally but nodded his head.

"That's a good boy. Let's turn up the pressure a bit."

I turned up the toy's pulse speed and vibration intensity. Brock's face contorted; one eye was half shut while the other jarred open. His mouth still hung agape, but now made an 'O' shape. He was getting close.

I decided to risk it. I had brought Brock to the crossroads. In this moment, I would either galvanize my sexual power over him or fail and lose him.

I got up from my chair and stood in front of Brock. My erection's full power pointed directly at Brock, as if it had identified its future target. There would be no more hiding. I stepped toward him such that my groin was less than a foot away from his face. His eyes narrowed and focused on the tent propped up, pointing at him.

All of my training came to this moment when I placed my hand on the side of Brock's head. I leaned forward, positioning my mouth against Brock's ear. The next moment would determine whether my preparation and training had born fruit. I whispered softly in Brock's ear.

"Good Boy."

Brock exploded in his cage. Spurt after spurt of warm cum flowed from his cock and onto the sheet beneath him. Brock moaned and contorted in my grip. His muscles tensed and released, then tensed again, then released again. I stepped away and let him fall sideways, lying on the sheet in a fetal position. I turned the vibrations off, but did nothing to remove the toy that was still inside of Brock as he recomposed himself.

Brock had just experienced the most intense orgasm of his life. And Brock knew that only I could give this to him. Only I had the power to make Brock feel this way. After tonight, Brock's dependence on me would be nearly perfect.

As promised, because Brock finished on the toy, he wouldn't be released that night. It would be a long time before I would release him again.

 

Link: https://www.literotica.com/s/breaking-the-stallion-ch-02