Becoming Owen

Owen's first steps

The next day Owen awoke to a new world. He had some errands to do during the day but he couldn't concentrate. His mind kept flashing back to the image of Mr Strickland's strong hand clamped firmly round his wrist. He kept hearing Mr Strickland's low, authoritative voice suggesting that he might like to be “corrected.” He was pretty certain that he would like that very much indeed.

His housemate was shut up in his room studying; Andy, his boyfriend, was out of town visiting his parents and Owen had the whole day to himself. His heart was racing with excitement. It was only after his meeting with Mr Strickland that the full implications of their conversation were taking shape in his mind. Mr Strickland was not the kind of Dom that Owen had expected or had seen in porn videos. Mr Strickland seemed relaxed—even humorous. He had overwhelmed Owen without intimidating him. There was that confident directness in him that absolutely commanded Owen's attention. The way he had asked, well, more informed Owen about Owen's sexuality, and his calm assumption that Owen would submit to him. Mr Strickland was very attractive, but this was not quite like going on a date. Owen didn't really know what it was like.

In the afternoon he spent a long time in the bathroom. He was never very happy with his body. He felt he should work out more, be more muscular. He shaved carefully then wondered if he should shave his body hair—he knew that Doms asked for such things. He agonised over this for a while but decided he would wait for Mr Strickland to tell him what to do. A strange sense of calm flowed through him at this decision and he felt more confident. He dressed simply in jeans, a t-shirt and jacket—he felt pretty sure he wouldn't be wearing them for long—and left the house.

Owen had spent a while calculating his journey to Mr Strickland's apartment, which was two bus rides away, but still arrived very early. To kill some time he sat in the little park in the square outside the building. It was a very expensive downtown neighborhood, with fashionable shops and expensive restaurants surrounding the square. His nerves mounted as he waited. The memory of a composed, professional Mr Strickland, leaning back in his business suit and smiling started to be replaced by the images Owen had seen on the internet. Hard, brutal men in leather who took what they wanted with no regard for the submissive boy beneath their feet. Canings that left frightening marks and bruises. Fucking that looked more painful than pleasurable. He took some deep breaths.

At three minutes to 7.00 Owen walked into Mr Strickland's building. As he gave his name to the doorman he watched the man's face closely for any sign of a knowing reaction. But the doorman just called up to the apartment, said “Mr Dillon for you, Mr Strickland,” and showed Owen the elevators. As he pressed for the floor, Owen noticed that his hand was shaking. He walked along the corridor, knocked, and there was Mr Strickland standing in the doorway and looking quite normal. He was wearing jeans and a loose-fitting white linen shirt.

“I'm glad you're here, Owen. Come in,” he said, putting his hand on Owen's shoulder and drawing him into a large living room. The room had a spectacular view over the city and some big abstract paintings on the walls. Owen was impressed. He couldn't quite believe he had been invited to Mr Strickland's apartment when only yesterday he had been fetching files for him in the law firm where he worked. Although the room was big, Mr Strickland's presence still filled it. Owen stood there feeling lost and excited at the same time.

“You can sit down.” Mr Strickland indicated a small, upright armchair. It was not uncomfortable, but Owen felt himself sitting to attention. Mr Strickland, meanwhile, sank back into a large sofa and stretched back his arms comfortably as he looked over to Owen. Owen shuffled his ass on the chair, wondering if he should say something.

Adam Strickland scrutinised Owen and considered why he had elected to wait for this inexperienced boy rather than using the waiter from last night. He did not often take on a new sub. It could mean a lot of cautiousness and waiting and explaining and then sometimes the sub would decide it was not for him after all. This boy was nice-looking enough, but not so striking as to catch Adam's eye for that reason alone. Owen had a pleasant, open face with soft eyes that were now looking at him in nervous anticipation. Adam said, “thank you for coming, Owen. I enjoyed meeting you yesterday. I found our conversation quite instructive.” Owen didn't really know this meant but he kept quiet. Adam continued: “I've invited you round here tonight because I think you would like to know what it is like to submit to another man. Is that right?”

Mr Strickland's directness was alarming. Owen stammered: “W-well, I suppose so … I don't really …” He felt maybe he should be contributing to the order of events—maybe he should ask about limits or something …

“It took some courage to come here, Owen. You have already taken your first step. I simply want you to tell me that you want to submit to me.”

Owen relaxed a little at the calm assertiveness of Adam's voice. It was time to make a commitment. “Yes, I think so. I mean, it's hard to know exactly. I've never done anything like this before.”

“I know you haven't, Owen. That's what we're here for today. This will not be a full BDSM session, it's simply see how you respond to the feeling of submission. To find out if you like it or not. There is nothing for you to fear. I will go over everything with you first so there will be no unpleasant surprises for you. Today we will use normal language. If you do not like anything that happens to you, just say so. Use whatever words you like or just say ‘stop' or ‘no.' If you're not sure about anything, just ask for a pause and we can address it. Do you agree?”

“Yes, that's fine.” Owen had been expecting to be given a safeword. In fact he had been prepared to bring this topic up, but he let it go. He felt oddly both reassured and disconcerted by Adam's approach.

Adam was continuing in a matter-of-fact tone as if this was something he did everyday (Owen suspected that it might be). “Now I will tell you what we're going to do. Today I will restrain you lightly and restrict your movements. I may blindfold you. I will touch your body anywhere I choose, but I will not penetrate you yet. I may use some light impact play—that means hitting you, Owen—but I will not hurt you and if you don't like it you can stop it right away. Do you agree?”

“Yes,” Owen said, and felt all his resolves fading from the scene. He had read up diligently on first-time BDSM encounters and how you were not supposed to let yourself be blindfolded or tied up. How you should maintain a physical escape route at all times. These precautions no longer seemed important.

“Now I will tell you what I expect of you. You will obey me at once and without question. As I have explained to you, if you do have questions we will pause the scene and address them. If anything frightens you or hurts you more than you are comfortable with, we will stop. But you must do what I say and take what I give you, even if it is just for a moment. Do you understand?”

Owen noticed that Mr Strickland had changed “do you agree?” to “do you understand?” Owen's agreement was now taken for granted. He said “yes, Sir.”

Adam smiled inwardly. The boy's earnestness was delightful. Adam did not insist on particular names and protocols; he preferred his partners to slip into the language that came most naturally to them as they felt their way into submission. If the boy wanted to call him “Sir” that was fine with him. He changed his tone slightly to one of command.

“Please take out all your personal items—wallet, keys, phone—and put them on that table.”

Owen did as he was told.

“Stand in front of me, please, Owen and take your clothes off. You can leave them on that chair.” Owen started to strip, clumsily hopping on one leg in his haste to get his pants off. Adam told him he could leave his underwear on for now. Adam enjoyed the sight of a boy's package still in its wrapping. He liked to take his time and savor what was offered. Once Owen was nearly naked he stood awkwardly before Adam, resisting his natural inclination to cover his genitals with his hands. Adam quickly took care of that: “clasp your hands behind your head and turn right round. Slowly.”

Owen obeyed feeling very self-conscious. He feared that his naked body would not be good enough for Adam. He wasn't lean and muscled like the subs in BDSM porn. He wondered if he should have worn a jockstrap or something sexier than his plain shorts.

Adam completed his 360 inspection. He liked Owen's body very much. The boy was broad and stocky; not fat, but with a pleasing roundedness and a pale skin. It was the kind of body that responded very nicely to a hand or a whip, that sprang back from a blow, and that retained well the beautiful marks of rope. Adam's mind started to work. Possibilities swirled in his imagination.

“On your knees now, boy. Keep your hands where they are. Move over to me.” Adam was sprawled on the sofa, his legs apart and his big frame taking up most of the space. He pointed to a spot between his legs and Owen shuffled to it on his knees. Tentatively he held onto Adam's calves. Adam swatted his hands away. “Hands off, boy! Keep them behind your head.” The command went through Owen like a shiver as he understood that Adam could touch him, but he could not touch Adam without permission. He waited with his eyes on Adam's feet. He could smell him now—the smell of his skin, a trace of the soap he must have showered with—and it was hard to keep looking down. He longed to get closer, to breathe in Adam's more intimate smells. It was intensely seductive for Owen.

Adam put a finger beneath Owen's chin and tilted up his face. He brushed Owen's lips with his thumb and the boy instinctively opened his mouth. Adam pushed in two fingers, keeping hold of Owen's chin with his thumb and remaining fingers. He pulled Owen forwards and then suddenly pushed him backwards, throwing him off balance. Owen felt hypnotised by Adam's control of his movement—his body teetered and swayed in response to the slightest pressure of Adam's hand.

Adam brought him back upright and pushed his fingers deeper into Owen's mouth just to the point before the gag reflex. He was pleased when Owen automatically started to suck them. “Good boy. Now use your tongue, Owen. Lick my fingers.” Adam was reinforcing Owen's behaviors by mixing praise with commands. A long way down the road of Owen's submission lay the point where a command would be a reward in itself. That was far off. At this stage Owen needed something much more immediate. Adam withdrew his hand and replaced it with his mouth, kissing Owen deeply, filling his mouth with his tongue and taking control of it.

Owen was entranced. He had never felt such an intense kiss. It was not that Adam was kissing him especially hard. But he felt it as a confirmation that he was doing the right thing, that it was right he should be there, on his knees with his face raised up to the mouth of this powerful, intoxicating man. He could have knelt there all evening. He closed his eyes and felt something stroking his cheek. Adam showed him what it was—a blindfold made of a soft black leather. He slipped it over Owen's eyes and adjusted it to fit tightly. “Are you all right, Owen?”

“Oh yes, Sir, very all right.”

“Good. Remember I can't see your eyes now. If anything is wrong you must tell me.”

Owen nodded. Everything felt great. Nothing was going wrong, it was all happening so seductively. Blindfolded, he realised how musical Adam's voice was. His authority was quiet and compelling, with the confidence of someone who knew he would always get his own way. Owen felt Adam leaning over him again. His arms were being gently drawn behind his back and fastened into restraints of a soft leather. Adam left a chain between Owen's wrists to allow the boy some movement. He was building up a most attractive picture—a new boy, willingly submissive, kneeling in his underwear, cuffed and blindfolded with his head bowed in submission. It was time to move on.

Adam ran his hands over the boy's chest, and lightly pinched his nipples, thinking how nice they would look when he had clamps on them. He let his hands take ownership of Owen's body, squeezing and fondling wherever he chose, exploring every inch to reinforce that he could take possession of any part of Owen without permission.

Without warning, he put his hand between Owen's legs and gripped his cock. Owen was already getting hard. Adam liked this. He had no time for Doms who denied their boys' cocks. An erection in a sub was a mark of respect in Adam's world. Of course the boy would not be allowed to come without permission—that was another matter entirely. He fondled Owen's cock in his shorts as the boy began to moan softly. Adam doubted Owen would have much orgasm control until he had been trained. He grabbed the boy's balls and squeezed them tightly to cause some pain. Owen jumped and pulled his legs together. Suddenly he felt a blow to his inner thigh.

“Open your legs, boy.” Owen felt it again on his other thigh—a quick, stinging pain, not hard but sharp. “You never close your legs to me, Owen. You must give me access to every part of your body.” Adam's voice was harder; the pace was changing. A shot of adrenaline coursed through Owen as Adam ordered: “Turn around. Face away from me. Move forward.”

Owen obeyed immediately. Somehow it felt different. In the half hour they had been together Adam had imprinted his physical closeness on him. Now he felt exaggeratedly lost without it. Adam tugged down his shorts roughly and groped his buttocks. “Nice ass, boy. Bend over.” Owen was finding it harder to obey Adam's commands with his hands cuffed behind his back. He wobbled as he tried to bend over. “Get your shoulders on the floor. Show me that ass”. Owen tipped forward awkwardly and fell the last couple of inches, managing to shuffle his shoulders into position and keep his ass up. He could sense that Adam had stood up and was moving round him. Then he felt the sting again on his thighs. “Keep your legs apart. Wider. Raise your ass. Arch your back.”

Owen felt horribly vulnerable on display like this. He knew that his ass was open and he could feel Adam staring at him. Even though he couldn't see, he imagined himself penetrated by Adam's gaze. He panicked a little as it occurred to him that Adam might just fuck him here and now. He was in exactly the situation he had been advised to avoid. And why should he trust Adam to keep his promises? Mr Strickland was an extremely powerful criminal lawyer who knew exactly what he was doing. If there was any trouble, it wouldn't be Adam who would be getting into it. Should he tell him to stop? Would it make any difference? He felt as if he was kneeling there, tied and exposed, for a long time.

Then he heard Adam laugh softly. “Look at you, boy, you're hard as a rock.” Adam was there beside him and his hand was stroking Owen's cock. Owen realised he had been hard all along. Adam pulled him up and let him lean against his body. Waves of relief and pleasure flowed through Owen.

Adam took off the blindfold and spoke to him reassuringly. “Thank you for showing me your ass, Owen, I enjoyed it very much. You have a nice, big ass.” Adam thought that it would be even nicer a shade of pink. He couldn't resist tapping it with his palm a couple of times. Owen manouevred his head rounf and looked up at him conspiratorially, inviting him to spank him. But Adam was going to leave him wanting more. He traced Owen's hole with a finger, nudging gently at the point where it began to give way to him. Owen's hole twitched invitingly.

“Beautiful,” Adam said as he teased Owen's hole and groped his ass. Owen tingled with pleasure. He knew his ass was big but he had always thought it was ugly. No amount of squats at the gym could give him the muscle tone he thought he should aspire to. He couldn't get enough of the way Adam was praising his body as he took possession of every part of it. Adam was saying: “and look at these balls, too. So heavy in my hand. So tight and full. Very nice.” Adam was looking forward to torturing Owen's balls at a later date. “ You'd like to come, wouldn't you, Owen?”

“Oh yes, yes please Sir, that would be amazing.”

“Very well then. You may turn round. Back up on your knees.” Adam's hand curled round Owen's cock. His strong fingers played expertly with the head for a while and then after only two or three strokes of the shaft Owen came, shooting uncontrollably over Adam's leg and shouting with pleasure. It was the best orgasm of his life.

When Owen had calmed down, Adam stretched out his leg. “Look what you did, boy. Get that cleaned up!” He pulled Owen's face onto his cum-stained pants. It was suddenly dirty and hot at the same time to Owen and he eagerly licked up his own cum. As he worked on Adam's thigh, Owen noticed the substantial bulge in Adam's pants. And now he could think of nothing more important than putting his mouth on Adam's cock. “Sir, would you like me to ...?” He looked meaningfully at Adam's crotch.

But he would be kept waiting. Mr Strickland's mood had apparently changed. “No, boy, I will tell you when you may suck my cock. We are finished now and you can get dressed. There's a bathroom through there where you can clean up. I'm going to change these pants. Then go to the kitchen—second on the right. There's a bottle of wine in the fridge. I'm sure you can find some glasses.”

Owen took his clothes into the bathroom and quickly washed himself and dressed. He scurried off to the kitchen. Adam evidently cooked, though not very tidily. There were pots and piles of ingredients scattered round, and a pile of unopened mail on the table. A large pad of paper was covered in unfinished shopping lists, doodles, and notes for recipes. Owen was thrilled to be allowed into the private space of Adam's domestic world. His instinct was to clean up, but he thought better of it.

He opened the fridge. There were in fact a number of bottles of wine but he managed to find one that was already open so took that out. He found a cupboard full of glasses of various sizes that he was sure went with different wines although he had no idea which. He took two large ones and set them on the table with the wine. Gingerly he moved the pile of papers a few inches to give them more space.

Adam came into the kitchen. He seemed pleased enough with the wine and poured two glasses but kept them both in front of him. He said: “Now Owen, before you have a drink, I want you to tell me openly and honestly how you felt when we were playing and how you feel now. You don't have to say anything to please me, just say what you experienced.”

Owen thought for a moment and started “Well, Sir …”

Adam interrupted. “You don't have to call me that now. When we are playing, I will sometimes call you ‘boy' but now we are just two men talking. You can use my name.”

“Yes, Mr Strickland.”

“Adam.”

“Adam.” Owen felt this would take a little getting used to. “As you could probably tell, I was very nervous. I honestly had no idea what it would be like in real life to put myself under someone else's control. I mean, I liked the anticipation but I felt I should know better what to do. ”

“Yes, you are bound to be nervous at first. That's a good thing. Power exchange works on the currents of nervous energy. And remember that I will be the one who decides what you do. There is no need for you to worry about doing the right thing. The right thing is whatever I say. Was there anything that scared you?”

“Now it all feels great. But there was a moment when I was down on the floor and I felt very vulnerable. I wasn't sure … that is …”

“You can be quite open with me, Owen. You weren't sure if you could trust me.”

“It seems silly now, but yes, I felt you could have done anything to me and there was nothing stopping you. But it was so good afterwards. The way you talked to me was so sexy. I loved it.” Adam made a mental note.

“What about the toys we used? The blindfold and the restraints. How did you take the crop?”

“I didn't know what that was. It was fine though. A little stingy but it kind of woke me up. It seemed to make my whole body more responsive. The other things were good—they were fun.” He blushed a bright pink—“when you made me lick up my cum, it was sort of dirty but it felt right.”

Adam poured him a glass of wine and pushed it across. The boy was responding nicely. He was learning what it was to feel sexy and dirty and submissive. “So you enjoyed yourself?”

“Yes. I really appreciate the way you took care of me.”

“I always take care of my subs, Owen. But you know that what we did today was very mild, just at the very fringes of my pleasures. If you decide to come back—and it is entirely your choice—we will take things much further. Not all at once, but you must understand that when I play, I like to use a lot more bondage and impact. To be clear, Owen, we will play with pain and I will require you to submit to me in more extreme ways. I don't want to put you off and I will always explain everything to you. If you decide to meet me again, we will go through all your limits and set some rules. But eventually I will demand things of you that you will not find easy.”

Owen was staring at Adam's hand as it held the wine glass and thinking that just a short time earlier those long, strong fingers had been round his cock. He nodded. “Yes, I understand. And I want it.”

“That's good. But you must take your time and think about it. The number I wrote on the card yesterday is a private cellphone. Wait at least until tomorrow, then text me tell me if you want to come back. I will send you instructions.”

Owen nodded solemnly. “Yes, Mr Strickland.” He couldn't quite manage “Adam” yet.

The discussion was over. Adam asked Owen if was enjoying the wine and told him a little about it, and the conversation drifted onto their culinary likes and dislikes (Owen pretty much liked everything, but he tried to make some distinctions to appear more cultivated.) After a while Adam called down to the doorman for a cab and told Owen the fare would be on his account. Owen made a token protest but was overruled.

During the ride home, Owen started to think about all the things he wished he'd told Adam. How the feeling of his arms being drawn back by Adam's stronger arms had made him melt into a new kind of headspace, how he would have let Adam drag him round the floor by his mouth as long as he had kept his fingers in there.

It was unnecessary. Adam was well aware of all this. He had noted how easy it had been to handle Owen and how the boy's responses wrote themselves so clearly on his body and face. Adam had rarely met such a naturally submissive man as Owen. Or, at least, someone so naturally submissive who was also so open and eager. Subs so often seemed to compensating for something or other and Adam was tired of acting as therapist as well as Dom. Owen was fresh and spontaneous, unformed clay for Adam to work with.

Adam went back to the kitchen and poured himself another glass of the wine. His cock was reminding him of its needs and he stroked himself as he drank. Owen's innocence and eagerness had been delicious, but Adam's sexual appetites were only just aroused. He found his phone and texted a number. Michael, the waiter from the day before, responded immediately.

“Yes, Sir?”

“When do you get off work?”

“10.30, Sir.”

“10.45. If you are late there will be consequences.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Adam went into another room of the apartment and put away the cuffs and blindfold he had used on Owen. He took a different implement from a rack on the wall. He glanced at his watch. He had an early start the next day. That was OK. He would have the boy whipped and fucked by midnight.

At 10.48 there was a quiet rap on the door and Adam took the waiter into his playroom.

“Three minutes late. Get undressed.”

The boy knew what to do. He stripped quickly down to a slutty jockstrap and knelt to kiss Adam's feet--the rite for getting through the playroom door. Adam was aware that Michael did not especially enjoy BDSM although he was good at taking it. What Michael wanted was the big cocks of the rich, powerful men who frequented the bar he worked in. Still, it was a reasonable a bargain. Adam had had to hold himself back with Owen and he wasn't about to jerk himself off. There would be nothing elaborate tonight. Michael was discrete and he had a willing ass—that was enough. He ordered the boy to his feet, pushed him over to a St Andrews cross and secured his wrists above his head.

Adam had chosen a carbon fiber switch. Its slightness disguised its brutality. A few well-timed strokes had the boy screaming and his own cock hardening in response. He paused for a moment with his thumb in Michael's hole as the boy pushed out his ass and begged for cock. Adam pushed the boy's shoulders down and lined up his cock with the lean, shaved ass. Michael moaned whorishly as the dick went in, and Adam felt the aggression he had contained all evening flood out. It was a hard fuck. Michael struggled to take the pounding, his legs spread wide to support himself against Adam's violent thrusts. Without warning his wrists were unclipped and he obediently sank to his knees, mouth open for Adam's load. He looked up, but Adam's eyes were closed as his cum spilled out onto Michael's face.

They had both gotten what they wanted. Michael dressed quickly, thanked Adam respectfully and slipped out into the night. Adam returned to the playroom and picked up the discarded whip. He thought about Owen's soft ass with its light fuzz of hair as he ran the switch over his palm. There were definitely possibilities.