Two weeks

Two weeks have passed, two slow and intense weeks. You´ve been monitoring your "Gimp" as much as possible only taking breaks to sleep, and when you went to work you set up a live webcam and streamed it to your phone to make sure you could check in on him. After the first week his resistance was gone, but the brainwashing hadn´t really settled in. Then, on a afternoon two weeks after you put him there, you hear the words you´ve been waiting to hear.
"Please Master, please claim this Gimp. Gimp needs a master, Gimps are nothing without their masters. Please..." He just kept repeating it on and on and on.

You put on your favorite leather pants, along with some old biker boots. As you entered the room, the stench of sweat and cum was heavy in the air. Your rent boy, soon to be gimp, was covered in a sheen of sweat, still strapped to the chair with the VR headset strapped on. As you removed it, he blinked in confusion, then his eyes locked onto your tight leather pants. As you remove the tube gag, he flexed his jaw a bit, then opened his mouth and leaned forward, trying to reach out to lick your leather pants.

You yanked his head back by his hair and gave him a hard glare. "You stay still until I give you permission to move, understand Gimp?" He nodded slightly, and stayed completely still as you removed the rest of the straps. You took a few steps back and pointed to your feet. "Come here, now!" He got up from the chair, the now massive dildo sliding out of his ass with a slushing sound. He got down on his all fours and crawled up to you, sitting back on his feet and looking up at you as if you were the most majestic thing in the universe. You hold up his new hood, custom made for him. "Are you ready to become my Gimp? To be claimed. To become my plaything, my property?" At each question, he nods and answers yes.

Reaching down, you take of his old hood, noting how tired and disheveled he looks like underneath, you´d have to clean him up later. Now his claiming was more important. As you fit the new hood over his head and lace it tightly in the back, you hear him mutter the gimp mantra under his breath, further cementing his brainwashing. Once its tightly on, you put a leather collar around his neck and attach a leash to it. You push him down, pushing his head into your boot. "You´re my gimp, now. Mine and mine alone. No one elses. You will obey me, no matter what. Any disobedience will be punished with **** pain. Understand?" He nods, licking your boot. "Yes Master. Gimp understands. Gimp understands it belong to you, Master"...