Chapter Six: Mr Emerson
Philip left Adam’s apartment and walked to the station. Master had forbidden him to take a cab to his house; his orders were to use public transportation so anyone could see him shuffling uncomfortably on his caned ass. He sat on the train, trying not to squirm, and thought about the situation.
Mr Strickland had been harsh with him, but not as severe as Master was. The punishment hadn’t been too bad—twenty to his ass was nothing—and it had been exciting to be disciplined by another Master. He had been intrigued by Mr Strickland’s new sub. He knew that Adam usually played with experienced men, and this wide-eyed innocent was something else with his soft skin and his big ass. Philip was a careful observer of the relations between the Doms he served and he knew that Master had an interest in what Mr Strickland got up to—not that he would ever be allowed to discuss it. Master and Mr Strickland were Men. Philip was a boy at the best of times, a slave more usually. His role was to service Men and they did not address him on equal terms.
As he took the train ride, Philip’s mind ran over the causes of his punishment. A few days earlier, after a strenuous work-out at the gym, he had stopped for a beer. The exercise had not quite dispelled the stresses of the day at work at his father’s firm. He knew he needed something else. The place was busy so he stood at the bar to drink. A good-looking guy had asked to join him and they had chatted for a while. The man was sensual and attractive and he introduced himself as Tad. Philip let him buy him a beer. He seemed genuinely interested in Philip’s life, and they had struck up quite a lively conversation before Tad laid an exploratory hand on Philip’s arm.
Philip did not move. The guy was open and friendly. Philip thought for a moment that this is what it must be like to have a normal relationship replete with mutual respect and satisfaction, where genuine displays of affection might happen at any time. Tad’s touch was gentle and his blue eyes smiled at Philip. What would happen if he went home with Tad? Would they kiss and hold each other close? Would they tenderly take off each other’s clothes? Would Tad lay him gently on the bed and push up his legs to ease himself into Philip? He imagined the confusion creeping into those blue eyes when Tad saw Philip kneel to kiss his boots, begging to be fucked mercilessly, begging to feel the force of his Master’s hand across his ass. Tad had an open and friendly face. He wore a plaid shirt and Philip would not have been at first certain that he was gay, let alone interested in the deep kinks that drove Philip sexually.
Lost in these thoughts, Philip didn’t at first react when Tad put his hand on his shoulder and let it travel gently but firmly down his back. For a blissful moment it felt good. But as he felt the hand caress his ass he was jerked back into his own reality, and opened a button on his shirt to reveal his chain collar. Tad had smiled ruefully and told him that he was a regular at the bar if things changed. They chatted a little more, and they shook hands before leaving.
Why had he repeated this story on his knees to Master? Master didn’t frequent that bar—there was no reason he could have known what had happened. But the terrible compulsion to confess had been too much for Philip as it always was: the need to abase himself at Master’s feet and recount every shameful detail in the full knowledge that the punishment would be severe. Master would seize the opportunity to exact a prolonged retribution—the caning from Mr Strickland would be just the start of it. Master would take the time to enjoy himself. And Philip would suffer for him, as he always did. As he always would.
Philip arrived at Master’s house and rang the bell, standing with head bowed. Five minutes passed excruciatingly slowly. As soon as the door opened he sank to his knees and in the same movement pressed his mouth against Master’s boot.
Mark Emerson looked coldly down on his submissive and said nothing. The sight of the prone body, still wearing his business suit, squirming at his feet was pleasing, but just the start of a longer punishment. Philip was now licking his boots with some desperation. Mr Emerson prodded him thoughtfully with the toe of his boot and then walked round him to give him a sharp kick between the legs. His sub groaned between his teeth but continued to kiss and lick his Master’s feet.
The pain shot through Philip’s balls but he remained where he was. It was something he wanted, just as he needed to press his body as low as possibly onto the ground at Master’s feet. He needed to feel himself shrinking down into pure sensation and obedience. His face pressed against Master’s boot was where he needed to be. His wealth, his Harvard MBA, the expectations of his parents meant nothing here.
Without saying anything, Master walked into his living room with Philip crawling at his feet. A large screen hung from one wall. Projected onto it were the photographs Mr Strickland had taken of Philip’s caned ass with the welts showing red and lurid. Master reached down and pulled up Philip’s head by the hair to make him look at it as he flicked through the images. He held him up painfully for some time before finally speaking.
“So, how did you like your visit to Mr Strickland?”
“I gave him your note, Sir, and took my punishment as you directed.”
“That’s not what I asked. Did you enjoy it?”
Philip sensed the trap. “Only because that is what you ordered, Sir. Because it came from you. The cane hurt but I knew it was what I deserved.”
“Oh, did you? I will tell you what you deserve,” Master sneered. “And was Mr Strickland’s new boy present?”
“Yes, Sir. Mr Strickland asked him to pick the cane, but he didn’t tell him to use it.”
“And what did he pick?”
“Bamboo, Sir. Quite painful.”
“I don’t recall asking for your worthless opinion. Did the boy enjoy watching you?”
Philip knew to be cautious. He kept his head down and his eyes on the floor. “I don’t know, Master, I couldn’t see him. I’m sorry, Master. Mr Strickland had me strapped down to a spanking bench.”
“How convenient. Perhaps you would have liked Strickland to fuck you in the ass while he was about it?”
“No, Master, my ass is yours.” A mistake. Master smirked again.
“I don’t think it is. It seems you would prefer to whore your slut ass out in bars to anyone who cares to grope it. Now let me see Mr Strickland’s handiwork. Show me your ass.”
Philip undid his pants and gingerly edged them and his briefs down over his striped ass. He kept his head low. Mark Emerson took off his belt and ran it across Philip’s back ending with several hard smacks to his already sore buttocks. “Don’t tell me you need to be reminded already of the consequences of that behaviour.”
Philip flinched but remained silent. His options had run out a long time ago. Master lashed him with the buckle end of the belt and he cried out with the pain. Master ignored his discomfort.
“I see you agree with me. You clearly prefer to take any man up your ass rather than the man that ass in fact belongs to. Perhaps you need to be reacquainted with your Master’s cock.”
“Yes, Master, if it pleases you.”
“We will find out if you can please me. Take off those ridiculous clothes.”
Philip got out of his suit as quickly as he could and crouched submissively in his collar at Master’s feet with his forehead on the ground. Master groped his caned ass, digging his finger nails into the welts. It was excruciating. He risked a glance up to see if Master needed to be sucked, but he was already hard and his cock was rigid in his hand. Philip was not going to be allowed the honor of worshiping Master’s cock. That was far too intimate.
Philip’s complete submission sent shots of lust through his Master. He hauled him to his feet and pushed his head down into a chair. Philip did not need to be told what to do. Bracing himself on the arms of the chair he raised his ass and spread his legs wide to open up his buttocks, presenting himself subserviently to his Master. Master pushed into his hole and, without giving him any time to adjust, began to thrust, stabbing his cock repeatedly into Philip’s ass.
“Hold your whore ass open for me,” Master commanded. Philip willingly reached round and pulled his butt cheeks open for his Master’s cock, making himself complicit in his own degradation. No control. No options. Master was right. He was a whore, kneeling with legs spread and ass shamelessly presented. There could be no absolution for his disobedience, only punishment, and he held his ass up to take it. Master was deep in him already, grunting with the effort as he took his pleasure with no concern for his sub.
The pain was considerable, and made so much worse by the caning Philip had received to his inner cheeks. But it felt to Philip like a white, cleansing fire. He did not know why he needed this so badly. Why he willingly allowed himself to be reduced to this piece of flesh. He knew he could never please Master but while he was being fucked or whipped he lost his continual fear of failing. To be abject like this absolved him all questions of success or failure. They had no purchase here--only the overwhelming sensation of pain, force and the unrelenting will of his Master.
At last he felt Master pull out and opened his mouth in expectation. “You spill a drop and we start all over again with your punishment!” Master shoved his cock unceremoniously into his mouth and shot his load down his throat. Philip managed to swallow all the cum. He cleaned Master’s cock carefully with his mouth and waited submissively with his eyes on the floor again. Sometime Master kept him naked and chained on the floor next to his bed in case he should wish to be serviced during the night. But Master was turning his back to him dismissively. “Get out,” he said, sounding almost bored.
Philip hastily collected his clothes and went to dress discretely by the door when Master suddenly called him back.
“And have you learned your lesson?” he said coldly.
Philip could hardly speak quickly enough: “Yes, Master. I’m sorry I disrespected you. I’ll never do it again. I live to serve you, Sir. You are my only …” Master interrupted him.
“I’m afraid I don’t think you have learned your lesson at all. As you are so eager to share your filthy ass—which is, in fact, my property—with the world, I have decided to invite some friends round to sample it. You will receive instructions.”
“Yes, Master.” Philip backed out and closed the door quietly behind him.
Mark Emerson sat flicking thoughtfully through the photographs Adam had taken and stroking his cock. Philip’s transgression had fueled his sadistic imagination. It was very hard to bring a sub to the state of extreme subservience that Philip had demonstrated and Mark was proud of his work. He felt there were still untapped depths that Philip was willing to go to, but he was to some extent bound by the group of men with whom he shared BDSM. They regulated their society through unwritten but well-communicated rules that guaranteed absolute discretion and insisted that all play most be clearly consensual. Mark had to agree to all this, but he felt the other men were unnecessarily cautious.
Philip was proof of this in Mark’s eyes. Mark was willing to push boundaries. He knew that he could do anything to Philip and the bitch would come back to him. Mark believed that limits could be established after they had been already transgressed and each limit could lead to a further transgression. Limits existed to be broken. But he also doubted that he could convince the other Doms of this philosophy. He sometimes thought of breaking away on his own, of keeping Philip as a slave and perhaps breaking in some new boys to the more extreme activities that he enjoyed. But he needed the anonymity that the group—which contained a number of lawyers like himself and Adam Strickland —provided, as well as the pleasure of exchanging subs, or fucking them together with the other Dominants.
It was fascinating for Mark to watch the levels of submission that Philip could push himself to. In the beginning there had been the usual struggle with normal desires and fears, but now his descent in abjection was immediate. It took very little to have the boy squirming at his feet, begging for more humiliation. It was a strange bond that they were caught up in.
Sending the boy to Strickland for punishment had awoken something else in his mind. There was something about Adam that worked on Mark like a piece of grit in his shoe. He saw in Adam elements of his own love of inflicting pain and it irked him that Adam appeared—at least to the outside world—more self-restrained. Boys fell in love with Adam and that gave him great power. Mark couldn’t understand why he didn’t use it to the full.
Mark had joined the legal partnership of Lombardi and Hecht some months ago. It had been he who had recommended Adam to Mr Lombardi, Owen’s boss. Mark was the kind of man who liked to store up these little favors in case they might be used a later date. He had spotted Owen several months earlier but hadn’t thought him worth consideration. Owen had seemed very vanilla--not at all the type of boy who usually found his way into Mark’s sadistic embrace. But now Adam, with his charm and elegance, had pounced on the boy and stolen him from under Mark’s nose and Owen was becoming an object of interest to Mark.
Now he had seen a way of righting this perceived slight. The tight circle of Dominants that Mark and Adam belonged to arranged regular meetings. They would end the evening at a highly specialized and exclusive BDSM club whose members were very carefully vetted. But it was their custom to meet first at each other’s houses for drinks and a little sexual appetizer. The host’s sub would be on hand to provide the entertainment and would be used by the men to arouse them before they moved on to a more spectacular experience at the club.
Mark knew that Philip would enjoy being used by a group of men, and he had to acknowledge that it was necessary to give the boy some reward now and again for his subservience and his confessions. But more importantly, it would give him the opportunity to explore further Adam’s relationship with his new sub.
Mark gave his mind to planning the occasion. He would arrange a small party for the men in his circle to have drinks and get their cocks sucked. Mr Strickland and his boy would be at the top of the invitation list.