by Jp Barnaby
The night took forever to pass, but eventually, Saturday morning dawned and after making my decision, I had finally slept a little. I stayed in the shower longer than necessary to try and calm myself. My nerves were on edge, and I wondered what Ethan’s reaction would be. Glancing at the clock, I saw that it was a quarter to nine and wrapped the towel around my waist. Closing my eyes, I took several deep breaths and tried to calm my pounding heart. I didn’t see the need to dress, so at five minutes before nine, I opened my bedroom door and walked down the hall to the room wearing only a thin towel. Ethan wasn’t there yet, and somehow, I knew he wouldn’t be. He would make me wait, drawing out my torment, forcing me to stand naked in this room that frightened me. Looking around at the different equipment, I thought of a hundred different ways he could torture me in here. I’m sure he knew each one.
I closed the door to the room and then I dropped the towel, folded it and threw it over a nearby chair. The room was warm, but my nipples hardened anyway. The anticipation was tangible as I waited for Ethan. No clocks hung in the room to show the passage of time. The wait started to get awkward and I didn’t know what to do with my hands or if I should sit somewhere or stand. Looking around at the chairs and benches, I couldn’t force myself to sit on one in fear I would appear eager. Was I? I tried desperately not to think about what was going to happen. The minutes ticked away like hours.
I began to wonder if he’d come at all. Maybe he wanted to freak me out as punishment. Mission accomplished, man. Unable to resist it, my gaze continued to roam through the room while I waited. I noticed the pulley in the ceiling, leather cuffs dangling from it, and it held my eye for a moment until I found the lever on the wall. The equipment clearly allowed the subject to be toyed with after being lifted by the arms. My heart slammed against my ribs and I tried to focus somewhere else, for example, something that looked like black mountain climbing rope, cut into different lengths, hanging from pegs on the wall. These two things in close proximity to each other forcibly brought home the reality of what I had agreed to. I turned to head for the door, but as I got to the front of the room, the knob started to turn.
My breath came in wild gasps and I froze where I stood. I’d barely managed to contain my panic when he stepped through the door wearing a plain grey t-shirt and black leather pants. The quiet authority that radiated from him was unmistakable. Without acknowledging me, he walked to the stereo, turned it on and classical music began to flow through the speakers. Then he turned to me. I hadn’t gotten my breathing under control, but tried to stand still as he came toward me.
“Today, we are going to assess your potential,” he said, in a hard voice as he walked in a circle around me. “I can see that you are only partially erect, most likely because of your fear.” He pressed his hard muscled body against me from behind. His clothes rubbed against me and reminded me that I was painfully naked. I felt more than bare …I felt vulnerable. With his lips at my ear, he murmured, “I have thought about you like this countless times since you moved into my house. Do you feel what you do to me?” Pressing his hips into my buttocks, I felt his erection against me. To my utter mortification, my body reacted, filling my cock.
“Very nice,” he said, and walked over to where the black ropes hung on the wall. Picking up a black bar with metal rings at each end and several lengths of rope, he returned to stand right in front of me. “By choosing this option, you are agreeing to be my submissive for this session. If we enter into a formal agreement, I will train you, discipline you and meet your sexual needs. You would not engage in other sexual relationships or satisfy your own needs and you would follow my instructions to the letter. Do you understand?” I nodded and he continued. “You will have two safe words. If you do not wish to continue our Dom/sub relationship, you need only to say the word. That word is ‘sunset’. This is the end of who you once were and the beginning of your new life. Do you wish to use that word now?” Reminding myself that I had already made this decision, I shook my head and then looked down at the floor.
“Your other safe word, the one you will use to stop any scene, is ‘red’. We will discuss that in more detail later, but you should feel free to use it at any time so we can stop and talk about things. Are you ready?” He put a hand on the side of my face.
I took a deep, shaking breath, and tried not to imagine what was coming before I nodded.
“Then we’ll begin,” he said simply and walked behind me. “Cross your wrists behind your back.” I put my arms behind my back and felt him use one of the lengths of rope to bind them tightly.
“On your knees” he said in a sharp voice. Carefully, because of my bound hands, I lowered myself to the floor. “Spread your legs.”
He placed the bar between my knees and tied them to the metal loops on either end. I felt wholly debased, naked and spread for him on his hardwood floor. After watching me for a moment, he brought one of the lower benches over and set it in front of me. Once he adjusted it to my height using a set of pegs on each side, his warm hand pressed between my shoulder blades and he pushed me over the ottoman. His touch was gentle, but firm, giving me no option to resist him and I shivered when my stomach rested against the cool leather.
“Now, you will be punished for your transgression. I told you not to enter this room, however, you felt compelled to do so. This will help you to understand that you will obey me,” he said and I watched him walk to the wall and pull down a long wooden paddle. Immediately, I squirmed on the bench wondering if I should use the word. Could I do this?
I jerked forward on the bench when the first blow caught me unprepared, but I didn’t cry out. I couldn’t. I was determined not to give him the satisfaction of hearing me react to his punishment. Crack after crack of the paddle resounded through the room, forcibly reminding me why the room was soundproofed. Even though I never made so much as a whimper throughout my punishment, humiliation would have brought me to my knees were I not already there. My erection rubbed against the soft leather padding of the bench, lubricated by my own precome. I didn’t understand how I could get so fucking hard being paddled by another man.
Then, finally, it was over.
When he rubbed my sore ass with his big, strong hand, I couldn’t help the moan that escaped me. It stung, I liked his tenderness. He walked around the bench and I couldn’t meet his eye, so I dropped my head.
Stroking my hair, he said, “You took that well, Jayden. I am impressed.”
He pulled on my shoulders so I straightened up and then he pushed the bench out of the way.
“You seemed to enjoy it as well,” he mused as his hungry gaze roamed my body and my face flamed. I watched in horrified fascination as he took a step closer and released the snaps on the front of his pants to pull away a panel. His open clothing framed an impressive erection. Still, he was clothed and I was naked. One more level of subjugation he required me to face.
He stroked my cheek and then said the word I had been dreading.
“Open.”
Panic welled in my chest, but I willingly opened my mouth for another man. Of course, this act had been performed on me, but I really had little idea what to do. My mind had gone blank with the sheer depravity of it. He slid his cock between my lips and I tried to turn my head, he held it still. Soon I could taste him, the flavor of salt and musk strong on my tongue, and I forced myself to breathe through my nose, relaxing as he released my head. It would have been better if he’d forced me, but he did not move once he was fully in my mouth and it was now up to me to willingly perform the act. This must have been what he meant by assessing me. With tears welling at the corners of my eyes, I began to move. His moan was barely a whisper as I carefully bobbed my head back and forth, sucking him.
“Jayden, look at me,” he demanded and I opened my eyes to find his brown eyes studying me for a moment before his head fell back and he put his fingers on the back of my head. After a few minutes, he began to gently guide my movements. I had to concentrate hard on breathing thro
ugh my nose as he fucked my mouth. Instinctively, I sucked harder, just wanting it to be over. His harsh groans excited me and my hips moved in a subtler rhythm that complemented his. I was impossibly hard.
“Swallow it,” he said through his teeth. Seconds later, he shoved deep into my mouth and stopped. I felt the hot, sticky semen stream into my throat and I swallowed around him, forcing myself to concentrate on breathing and swallowing, nothing else. I hated the taste of it, the smell. He pulled out, leaving my mouth open, my jaw aching. One tear slipped slowly down my cheek as I thought about what I had just done. Not only what I had done, but about how it had made me feel. Degraded but aroused, humiliated but almost willing to beg for more. It scared me how much I wanted it. I’d never wanted anything like I wanted to be used by him.
My erection was actually painful and all I could think about was how I would even resort to begging him for release. As I looked up into Ethan’s face, he smiled down at me, displaying his approval. He stroked my cheek softly and I realized then that this day would leave me irrevocably altered.
While I remained on my knees in front of Ethan, he watched me and tucked himself back inside his pants. As he refastened the panel, my first reaction was disappointment, followed quickly by horror. What the hell was wrong with me? He kneeled and untied my legs from the bar and then moved behind me to quickly untie my hands.
“Stand.” My muscles painfully protested as I complied and I refrained from rubbing my arms as stood there with my head down.
“You have a beautiful habit of looking down when you stand before me. That is very good, Jayden,” he said and I could hear a note of pride in his voice. I had pleased him and I felt a stirring of pride begin to replace the shame. Turning from me, he walked to the largest table and then instructed, “On the table, all the way at the end.”
I followed him to the table and did as I was told. The cool leather felt nice beneath my flaming ass, still scorching from his paddle. I sat at the very edge of the table with my legs over the end, like a kid waiting for a doctor. First, he pushed my shoulders down until I was lying flat, and then pulled my hands over my head. Grabbing longer ropes from the wall to secure my hands to the top of the table, he re-tied my knees to the bar. I ended up with my knees pressed against my chest while he tied another set ropes from the head of the table to the bar, preventing me from closing my legs or putting them down.
Horribly exposed, another tear fell as I closed my eyes and tried not to think about what was coming. A warm, slick hand wrapped around my cock, and my breath caught. He didn’t touch me with hesitation or awkward strokes, but somehow knew exactly what gave me the greatest pleasure. It was like my body was a musical instrument and he was the Master of it. In effect, I guess that’s exactly what he was.
I couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped me as he used one palm to rub the head and the other to stroke the whole length. His hands worked in concert to try and blow my mind. Being bound, I couldn’t rock my hips up hard enough into his hands to make myself come, but God, I wanted to. My body begged for release. When he applied lube to my ass, my mind shouted at me that I should panic, that I should scream the fucking safe word and get the hell out of here, but my body ached for the hand still stroking me. It overpowered everything, even the shame. As I watched between my bound legs, a finger slid into my ass, stretching my entrance and I closed my eyes, surprised by how good it felt. At first, he just used one, but then a second slid slowly in and out of me. The feeling was so far beyond anything I’d experienced; I moaned without restraint, using the only avenue allowed to me. He continued to violate me with his fingers, pushing them deeper, giving me more friction with every stroke. My orgasm floated so close I wanted to reach out and grab it. Then, inexplicably, he stopped his ministrations and I let out a strangled whimper at the loss.
I heard the tearing wrapper and then he spread my ass cheeks. My lips tried to capture the small frightened cry as the head of his cock pressed into me. The pinching, fiery pressure felt like tearing when I stretched uncomfortably wide to accommodate him. Closing my eyes tightly, I locked my jaw against the pain. My ass was on fire and he groaned softly and pushed deeper. My mind reeled against being fucked by another guy. Instead, it narrowed completely to the way his hand felt as he stroked me, and the zing of pleasure that buzzed through my ass when he moved a certain way. My hands balled into fists, though they were useless in the restraints.
When I opened my eyes again, his gaze stayed on my face, watching carefully. His strong leather-clad thighs pressed against my skin as he drove all the way inside me, digging his fingers into my hips. Then, he pulled back slowly and punched forward again, impaling me. I tried to remain quiet, to hide the mounting fire in the pit of my stomach.
This could not be happening.
Ethan moved faster, his hips slapping against my buttocks with each hard thrust. I kept my eyes averted; I couldn’t let him see. My head rocked back from side to side, trying to stop the inevitable, but it wouldn’t matter. Within minutes, his moans turned into grunts and he fucked me faster. His hand on my cock moved faster too, trying to force me to match his desperation. The base animalistic sounds coming from him, plus the friction from his thrusts, pushed me to my breaking point. A low sob escaped as my orgasm ripped through me. The combination of being bound to this table, taken, and the slick stroke of his hand coaxed it from me. I couldn’t hold back the tears, it was just too much.
Ethan gave one last thrust, harder than the others, and I imagined that I could feel him come inside me. Squeezing my hips with his fingers, he groaned as he filled the condom. Breathing heavily, he pulled back and watching me as he started to calm. I could feel his eyes on me as I sobbed in silent degradation. My legs were still bound in the air and I felt the cool air on my skin, wet from the lube and come. When he moved to the head of the table and stroked my face, I noticed that, again, only his genital area was exposed and he was still fully clothed. Wiping away my tears, he kissed my forehead gently before untying me.
Once I was free, I did something I never thought possible, something that felt so fucking right that I couldn’t have stopped myself. I knelt quickly on the floor and pressed my forehead to his thigh. The compulsion nearly overwhelmed me. I wanted to kiss his boot. I wanted to feel his fingers on my face. Nothing in my life could have prepared me for that desperate need. Ethan ran his fingers over my hair and then took my hand, pulling me to my feet, but I avoided his gaze.
“Now, I have to ask you something. I will let you remain in the house regardless of your answer. You have incredible potential that you are only just beginning to realize. I want you and I will extend this offer to you only once. I want to train you. Do you want to be a submissive? My submissive?”
My heart pounded in my throat. It crushed me that I had to think about it, that I couldn’t just say no, but something inside me, in the very event horizon of my soul wouldn’t let me walk away. The things he did to me blew my mind. I had no idea if I was straight anymore, or if I just liked the physical pleasure. But I did love the physical pleasure. It eclipsed any other sexual experience I’d ever had, and I could continue to live here no matter what I decided.
Jesus, I needed more time.
But he wanted an answer, so I weighed my options while he watched me, patient, knowing the decision was not to be made lightly. My ass still stung from his paddle, and my body had sung under his hands, impaled by his cock. Even my balls were still tender from the power of my orgasm. Trying not to think about what my sister or my parents would think if they knew my secret, I made the decision.
“Yes,” I whispered, almost to myself. It took him a moment to respond, tension evident in his frame. I thought maybe I’d given the wrong answer, only I didn’t know how it could have been. If he didn’t want me as his sub, why would he have asked? But then, his mouth quirked up just a fraction.
“Yes…” he repeated, trailing off, a question in his tone.
“Yes, Master Ethan.”
C
hapter Two
Sleep eluded me. Images from our session rolled over and over in my mind. The memories made me burn. I could still feel the soft texture of the leather bench under me as he paddled my ass, remember every note of the song that played in the background, taste him, smell him; every detail in perfect clarity. The backs of my legs ached from being bound. No nuance of my experience had been lost. Each one replayed behind my closed lids like some foreign film—familiar, but not easily understood.
I shifted to my side, and winced with discomfort. The new tenderness brought my painful conflict to the forefront. Just the memory of that low groan he’d uttered as he had entered me started to make me hard. I could almost feel him inside me because of the soreness and couldn’t decide what that meant for my sexuality. If I was gay, wouldn’t I know that by the age of twenty-two? I’d never been attracted to men before. When Ethan had explained this new life to me, he had said that it was purely a sexual relationship, but I wondered if I’d ever have a normal relationship again.
Finally, the sun rose and I had an excuse to escape my thoughts. Grabbing a towel, I walked into the bathroom. It was surreal; everything was the same as the day before…everything but me. I felt like a completely different person, a person I didn’t know. That feeling only intensified when I removed the leather wrist cuff Ethan had given me as a physical token of my subservience. He had said that generally subs wore collars as a sign of their commitment, but that he preferred to be a little more subtle. The black leather cuff was embossed with his initials, a sign of his possession. The only time I was allowed to remove it was to bathe or to treat it. I set it carefully on the countertop and got into the shower.