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The Organisation 12: Kenji’s downfall 1
Kenji was the second born son of a very rich and influential man. His older brother, the one who would inherit the house, was named Eun-Woo, but everyone called him Boo. Kenji's birth name was Joon-Woo.
As was the tradition, the boys names had traditional meanings. Boo was the oldest son, the weight of the world would lie on his shoulders one day, and his name meant he was ‘merciful and outstanding’, truly purposeful and important traits for the future leader of one of the richest families in South Korea.
Kenji's name informed everyone of his ‘divine protection’. The baby was conceived by a very ill father who was bedridden for the better part of a year. The man had had an accident and was crippled, a fact that made the gossip factory work overtime. As Joon-Woo, the little miracle, was born a few weeks too early, weak and tiny, his Mother had prayed to the gods and offered them sacrifices.
And the little wonder, Kenji, Joon-Woo, survived with true ‘divine protection’.
The family lived in the best part of Seoul, the Gangnam District. The Family Penthouse was situated on top of one of the tallest buildings of the City, the Tower also housing the company that provided the family with their wealth and influence.
The Penthouse was spread over three floors, including a roof terrace with a pool. There were 5 bedrooms for the family and guests, a huge salon and all the amenities a rich and important family would expect, including the highest security standards.
As usual the family name also worked as the name of the building, and Choi-Tower meant ‘The impressive, tall and soaring Tower’, a true testament of the wisdom, powers and fortune of the Choi Family.
The only thing that disturbed the perfection was the stale taste in father Choi's mouth. The gossip did not stop, the rumors would not end, and the fact that his second son Kenji, Joon-Woo, grew to a hunky young man, much taller than his first son, raised his suspicions further.
As Kenji, the name his mother had always used, grew into a well built young man with muscles steeled in the private gym of the penthouse, his father had made up his mind.
To him the boy looked too much like all those other abominations, son's from dishonest Korean wives and the always present American soldiers, sailors and airmen
Mr. Choi, condemned to a life in a wheelchair, contacted a business associate and sent Kenji to America to brush up his education. The man he contacted had ties to the ‘Organization’, so both sides profited off Kenji’s doom.
While Kenji was on his way, Mr. Choi had an important zoom-meeting with the Headmaster of the school he was about to enroll Kenji in. The Organization’s executive had listened to Mr. Choi’s suspicions and ideas for the boy, and ultimately suggested to send the young athlete to a place that would suit his talents best.
When he talked to the new student’s father, Mr. Carrington – Smyth was listening full of interest. This case, the unusual aspiration of a mentally challenged man, was not uncommon to the school’s headmaster.
Kenji would be forced to submit, and the sexy and muscled young man would soon forget the rich family he had in Korea.
Mr. Choi would gladly watch the boy's training sessions, and the fact Kenji made his own money at school by performing online made it even easier for Choi to savor the endless workouts, the hard lessons, the tireless ministrations the school’s dedicated staff gave the boy.
The perverted old man found joy in the scenes he watched on screen, scenes showing his sweating bastard son working hard under the eyes of his instructors.
Even though he did not know any of the other men watching the same scene, Mr. Choi found it highly arousing to know that the session would help countless others to get off too.
Today he watched a cruel session in the gym. The coach had already made Kenji go through the tenth set of the same circuit training. Machines and free weights, all workout routines carefully monitored by the computer and the staff.
A little device in the coaches hand made sure the young boy did all the Organization wanted him to do. The device was a taser, it’s intensity set high enough to make the athlete cramp and scream, but not high enough that the young man would suffer any real damage. Kenji would very soon look just as Mr. Choi intended, muscled like a typical American soldier, like each and every other trademarked muscled boy serving in the American military, just like the way the old man envisioned the man who had fucked his wife, making her pregnant in the process.
Mr. Choi was crippled and bound to a wheelchair, but he was proud his brain still worked as well as his libido, and he looked forward to every new show his 'son' would give.
Choi had not fully made up his mind. Kenji’s fate was not yet set in stone. However, the old man had ordered that he be brainwashed into submission, his only purpose in life to be a lowly gay bitch, a slave to a real man’s needs and whims.
The Korean man watched as the gym coach forced Kenji countless times through the hard routines of workouts. In the end, the exhausted, sweating and panting boy followed the final instruction of his Coach gladly: “Kneel, Boy!”
The Coach had been chosen carefully. He was black, just as Mr. Choi had ordered, and he was exceptionally well endowed. The Korean man had looked at his ‘sons’ ample endowment and somehow knew Kenji’s biological dad must have been some black, muscled, super heavy hung Marine.
The Coach that worked Kenji over now was the epitome of that vision Mr. Choi had, and it added to his enjoyment he got seeing the ‘son’ being trained, used, abused and ultimately broken by his own ‘Dad’.
The Coach had already felt his own dick rise in his joggers as he watched Kenji work out. He knew the school and the boy's father both wanted a long, slow process of taming and breaking the kid to be the submissive slave his Dad wanted.
Coach fondled the boys face, felt his soft skin, and had a hard time to control himself. Kenji needed to trust the coach first before being exposed to the methods of the school. His crash would even be harder.
Coach Johnson was a man of great experience. He could sense the fine line between utter exhaustion and total breakdown. This boy needed to be broken to be rebuilt. The school used certain terms for the programs they used to train a boy. Kenji would work a rigorous gym program followed by gay sex after each set, and soon the 'fag brain syndrome' would start to show. Coach always had to giggle when he thought about this definition, a mental state followed by total submission to a superior or a father figure. In Kenji's case the kneeling boy was by far not exhausted enough. He held the stance, was panting and just on the verge of passing out, but he still gave Coach Johnson a fight.
Coach Johnson smiled as he said: “Very well, boy! Another round of 50!”
The young boy looked at the coach with wide open eyes, not really believing what the man had just said. He wanted to protest, wanted to get up and walk out, wanted to tell his coach that too much of a workout would not result in a better performance. But he had no chance. Much to his horror, the Coach smiled wickedly as he pressed a taser onto Kenji's abs and the young athlete's world exploded in pain.
He passed out. Waking up again he felt he was now completely naked and cuffed to a workout machine.
Coach Johnson stood and watched the boy regain consciousness. Before Kenji could start to argue, he thrashed around, his muscles reacting to electric impulses from a source controlled by the coach. Coach Johnson watched the muscular boy flail around, tighten his muscles, scream in pure agony.
On the other side of the world, a man in a wheelchair watched a live stream.
He was delighted to see the torment of the boy who had played his son for so long. The man had made up his mind, and now the boy would now feel his retribution. No one was allowed to put a green hat on the man’s head and live to brag about it.
Kenji sobbed as the machine stopped making him struggle. His muscles still cramped. The man in front of him, the man who had introduced himself as Coach Johnson earlier, smiled down at him as he spoke in a soft voice:
“My my my, Kenji, my boy. You are being a bit stubborn, don't you think? You must admit it is much better now. You can relax soon, but first you have to complete your workout routine. Give me 50 reps, boy!”
The cuffs on his hands just permitted Kenji to lift his legs, but the machine was designed to work as a bench-press.
Kenji struggled to work the machine. Slight impulses triggered certain muscles, and he just had to follow the orders the machine gave him, without even thinking, just reacting.
It felt good to react, it felt good to submit, it felt good to do as he was told.
But then, as his muscles started to slow down again, as the fatigue set in, the pain came back.
“AUURGHmmmmmmmm …..urghmmmmm...urhgmmmmmm”
He screamed as the impulses ran through his body again, all the muscles tightening at once. He wanted to curl up into a ball, but the machine held him in place. After just a few seconds which felt like minutes, the current shut off, his muscles relaxed, and he passed out again.
He woke up in a cell, passed out on a floor of solid concrete, and as he looked around he found nothing, no bed, no mattress. However, the cell, designed carefully to be a neutral environment, was neither hot nor cold. The one who had built it had been a master manipulator. A boy locked in here had to wait for anyone who made the first step. Until then anyone imprisoned just was a victim of his own brain, his feelings, his fantasies.
Kenji looked around. There was a seemingly bottomless hole in the floor and much to his surprise, a dildo like device protruding from one wall. A solitary lamp blinded him and he couldn’t make out a door – no visible handle being in view.
He was exhausted, hungry, thirsty.
It took him hours to realize that the smell that made his stomach rumble with hunger came from the device on the wall. The dildo like thing seemed to be a faucet of sorts, and a drop of some substance was about to dribble out of the tip of the… Faucet?... Dildo?… Food dispenser?
Kenji was almost delirious as he used a fingertip to scoop up some of the substance and bring it to his nose to sniff it, then his tongue to taste it warily. There was an explosion of taste, rich, sweet and salty all at the same time, and his taste buds gave his brain an explosion of new unforgettable impressions.
He did not even think as he knelt and licked the faucet, slowly getting a mouthful of the sauce.
The men supervising him on several screens sat back contentedly. Joon-Woo Choi would soon be gone, the boy Kenji would be the best boy any man could wish for.
The only food and liquid he would be presented with would be the ooze coming from the tip of the dildo.
The trainers working for the Organization were always thrilled to supervise and see exactly how long it took for a new slave to understand what the dildo did. Kenji was maybe a little too intelligent for his own good, and the surprisingly short time he needed to understand the method of getting food by licking the dildo gave the men watching him enough information to adjust his training accordingly.
Nobody wanted a sharp minded slave boy.
Kenji soon found out that the most effective way of obtaining food was to make the dildo slide deep into his throat to milk it, actually working it so hard a real man would have cum. The sensors built into the surface of the rubber food dispenser made sure that a boy sucking it, fucking his face on it, was fed relative to his performance.
Every new boy went through this stage of training, and if a boy did not understand the method he would basically be starved. However, the stuff oozing out of the tip of the dispenser smelled good enough to at least taste it. Once a slave had licked the tip of the dildo for the first time, he was hooked. Kenji was no exception, he suckled the dildo shaped device greedily and regained his strength surprisingly quickly.