The Power of Belief – Part 2 (Patreon Commission)

I believe I am a smoker…I believe I smoke pipes and cigars…I believe I collect pipes…I believe I prefer pipes…I believe I smoke whenever I can…I believe I drink bourbon when I smoke…I believe real men are smokers…I believe I am gay…I believe I am attracted to my graduate student, Carter…I believe Carter is attracted to me…I believe I am dominant…I believe I have a nine inch cock…I believe I have large, low hanging, sensitive balls…I believe I like to talk dirty…I believe I am a real man…I believe being gay is good…I believe…

Professor Larson had quite a few more talks discussing his project with Carter, and he found himself enjoying the young man’s company more and more. At first they would talk about his student’s work, but as time passed, their conversations became more casual though more often than not, the professor’s office phone would ring and cut into the conversation. During the chats, he would often be smoking one of his many pipes and drinking bourbon–Carter would often drink with him but rarely smoked. Carter got a bit too drunk one evening, and finally confessed that he was very attracted to his professor, and Harry was all too happy to mention that the feeling was mutual. Carter ended up on his knees, under his teacher’s apron, digging out his massive cock, which Harry was all too happy to slam down his throat, calling his student a dirty slut until he came. From that moment on, there was considerably less talking, and considerably more fucking going on at their meetings.

I believe I am old…I believe I am 64…I believe I have white hair…I believe I have muttonchops with a connecting mustache…I believe I wear spectacles…I believe I am balding…I believe I am proud to be bald…I believe baldness is sexy…I believe old men are sexy…I believe my old body is attractive…I believe I have wrinkles…I believe I am very hairy…I believe I have very large feet and hands…I believe I am a polar bear…I believe I am a daddy bear…I believe Carter is my lover…I believe I love Carter like a son…I believe Carter should obey me…I believe I like to be in control…I believe I am powerful…I believe sex should be rough…I believe I should be addressed as Sir…I believe I am entitled to respect…I believe I am a genius…I believe age gives one a better perspective on the world…I believe I prefer being called Harold…I believe…

It was, at times, difficult to keep up with someone less than half his age, but he had never had trouble in the bedroom, despite his weight and age, and Carter loved it. He loved being dominated by Harold, feeling his massive weight pressing down on him in the office or the bedroom, his fat cock buried in his hole, while he smoked his pipe, muttering abuse in his ear. Carter was always obliging, and when Harold demanded that he begin addressing him with more respect. He never faltered in calling him Sir, and would run to his old lover’s office at a moments notice so he could grovel in front of him, and beg him to let him worship his fat body, allow him to suck his cock, or feel it in his ass. Feeling this kind of control over someone was both new, but so incredibly comfortable for Harold that it came completely naturally, and before too long, he began to crave it. It seeped into his teaching style; where before he had relied on discussions to drive the class, he switched more and more to lectures. After all, he had a whole life of experience in the field–these young men and women ought to respect him enough to listen to it.

I believe I am wealthy…I believe I am selfish and greedy…I believe I am arrogant…I believe I am conservative…I believe I look down on people younger than me…I don’t think young people understand the world…I believe I feel lost in the modern era…I believe I refuse to use email…I believe I don’t own a computer…I believe I prefer to wear expensive suits…I believe that dressing anachronistically turns me on…I believe that wearing expensive fabrics turns me on…I believe the feel of leather arouses me…I believe I am kinky…I believe being fully clothed while someone submissive is completely naked turns me on…I believe inflicting pain arouses me…I believe I live in a mansion…I believe I have a large sex dungeon in the basement…I believe I am abusive…I believe safe words are unnecessary…I believe Carter should serve me as a sex slave…I believe I love Carter…I believe Carter loves me…I believe Carter should live with me for the rest of my life…I believe…

Their affair only lasted a semester, before Harold suggested (or really rather forced) Carter to move in with him. It wasn’t like Harold didn’t have enough room in his massive home, and he very much loved having access to Carter’s holes whenever he liked, and on his first night, he introduced him to his dungeon. Carter loved it, of course, but why wouldn’t he? It had been his idea, after all. Harold was relatively content to let his young lover have his fun for a bit longer, answering the phone when he called, believing what he told him to believe, seeing how far his fantasy went. But he also knew that Carter had been in control for far too long, and so, during a bondage session, Harold put a pair of headphones on Carter (he despised the fact that he had to rely on technology for this, but his student’s work had been rather clear on its necessity), and played the same tone which had been sending him into a trance for months, watching his young student’s eyes flicker shut, his limbs fall slack. After all, Harold had been more than a little accommodating–and he thought it was time for Carter to try out a new role that Harold had had in mind for him for quite a while now.

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