Being Masterful

Every once in a while a prize drops into one's hand. It's all the more fun because it is unexpected.

Toby was a young builder - mid twenties - short in stature but strong and fit. Not at all handsome. What you would call an average British 'bloke'. He wasn't even a proper builder, more an odd job man with a couple of mates on hand if he needed them. He did some work on my patio and built me a garden shed. I promise, what follows is true.

Out of the blue he called at my office one morning.

“I've got a favour to ask you.”

Me, suspicious. “Oh yeah?”

“My dick's been aching lately?”

“Really?” I sensed a joke and waited for the punchline.

“I've seen the doc and he doesn't seem much bothered. I wondered, would you take a look? It's difficult for me to see anything.”

My guess, somewhere he had heard a little gossip - maybe about the way I trained up my young men; possibly some jokey references to the amount of time they were required to spend naked. I very much doubt any of my people would have spoken openly in any detail. We were in the downstairs hallway. I said we should go upstairs to my private office, the one I used when I did not wish to be disturbed. He followed me. Once in the room I locked the door. He looked at me. I looked at him and shrugged my shoulders as if to say 'your move.'

He hesitated for a moment, unsure at the last minute whether to go through with it, then unfastened his jeans, his zip and, locking both his thumbs in his waistband, yanked down his trousers and boxers to mid mid thighs. His shirt hung down but the tip of his cock and a glimpse of his balls could just be seen. He stood in the middle of the room. I always kept the blinds half closed. I pulled over a chair and sat in front of him.

“Lift your shirt up so I can see properly.”

He pulled the shirt up halfway to his chest and, obviously at least a little embarrassed, looked off into the middle distance. A smallish guy he may have been but, even when limp, he sported a very generous cock. It hung down, partially obscuring his balls which looked to be equally impressive, dangling a couple of inches in their sack.

I took hold of his cock and moved it from side to side and lifted it up. It looked fine to me. In fact it looked magnificent.

“I can't see anything wrong, “ I said, “Where does it hurt?”

He pointed to the left side of the shaft where it sprouted from his abdomen. I held his cock in my left hand and moved it to my left, his right, so I could see it in profile.

“Does it hurt now?”

“It comes and goes. It's been hurting off and on for a month.”

“Is it a sharp pain or a dull pain?”

“Dull. It's a kind of an ache.”

“Does it feel like it's on the surface or inside?”

“Kind of near the surface. Almost feels like a burn.”

As we talked and I moved his cock from side to side inspecting it, it began to lengthen and increase in girth.

“Does it hurt more when you get hard?”

“Yeah.”

I held the stem of his cock at the place he had pointed to and pressed a little. “Does it hurt now?”

“No, but it was hurting this morning.”

“OK, so your stiffening a bit now. Let's see if the pain comes back.”

I wrapped my hand around the shaft which I held to one side so that my forefinger and thumb were touching the head and his balls were touching my wrist. I slowly massaged my palm back and forth, taking the opportunity to peel his foreskin with my thumb and forefinger. If a guy is starting to get aroused, peeling back his foreskin always gets a result. The cock in question jerks into life as the gland underneath is exposed to the cool air. I love to watch that moment. That is when I know I have control of the man. I have never known a guy pull away after this point.

“Is anything hurting now?”

“Not sure.” He said the words through gritted teeth.

I changed my grip to stroke him harder. I wanted to start his balls bouncing in their sack because then he would be experiencing both cock and ball stimulation. Most guys go into a kind of trance at this point like they are paralysed; unsure whether they should allow it, but then again experiencing too much pleasure to want to stop it.

And then he shot his spunk across my wrist and up my shirt sleeve. I had been stoking him for less than 20 seconds.

“Sorry.” He said.

I had never had a guy come so fast. The man was like a coiled spring. “Well at least we know everything is working properly.”

I wiped my spunk-splattered wrist and sleeve while he wiped his cock on his boxers. I knew the guy had a wife (well a 'significant other', who knows these days) and a young son.

“My guess is you've been over-doing things. There are no bones or muscles in a man's dick. It stays rigid because blood pumps in and valves close to lock it up, so it doesn't have much of a support mechanism. I think you've sprained it by being a bit exuberant.”

I was able to give this advice because, when I was about 17 and working on a building site, one of the older labourers told me a similar story. Guys have always confided in me, I think, because they sense I won't try and make fun of them. Many men want to talk about sexual issues but, unlike women, they feel it is a subject not to be discussed with their mates. They then pick someone they know who seems approachable but not someone they are friendly with or get drunk with in the local pub.

At the end of the eighties I was about to close down the company I was running at the time. 'Black Monday' and the end of the Thatcher era ushered in a UK recession. The last two guys I stripped and stroked were “Mark-2” and Jonathan.

Mark-2 showed up for his first interview as instructed early evening after the other lads had all gone home. He was taller than me though less than six feet I would guess, and even in clothes looked to be in good shape. He wore his light blond hair long. You could have easily mistaken him for a Californian surfer, and he had an IQ to match. I found his dumbness a bit of a turn on.

After asking a few basic questions I took a pair of overalls off the shelf. The lads and I sometimes used navy blue woven paper disposables for really dusty work. They were actually quite tough and well fitting. It was possible to wear clothes beneath though this was restricting. It was easier to strip down to undies and T-shirt. The lads preferred to do this so they could wear the overalls tighter fitting instead of over-size. This way they looked quite smart.

I told Mark I wanted him to do some exercise so he must strip down and put on the overalls I was holding which were still in their new plastic wrapping. He looked momentarily a little quizzical, though I think that was just for show.

Some guys do that. They make a point of looking surprised or doubtful about stripping off, as though they think that is how they should act. If they then strip straight away I know it's a pretence; a token hesitation. Perversely, it's the one's who are genuinely doubtful about taking off their clothes who feign nonchalance. That's the thing I like about straight men: it's heads I win, tails they lose. There is no circumstance in which a straight man can decline to strip when told to do so, without looking like a chicken-shit wimp.

After what he considered to be an acceptable second of hesitation he then bent down to unfasten and remove his sneakers. Then he stood upright and, as he was in the act of removing his outer shirt, he commented - in an off hand way - that he never wore underwear.

“No problem,” I said casually. Trying to be equally matter-of-fact.

He stripped to his T-shirt and socks and waited for me to hand him the overalls. His legs were muscular and hairless. His thighs were well formed and powerful-looking. His T-shirt hung down to the top boundary of his blond pubic hair. Front and centre an impressive cluster of male kit dangled on display. I was wishing I could think of an excuse not to give him the overalls, but could not.

He climbed into them and in doing so his tackle swayed from left to right. It was mesmerizing. It is such a turn on watching a self-conscious straight guy trying to look unconcerned at being watched while naked. Guys fret so much about their cocks. Does it look too small? Or, yes I'm well hung but will it look as though I'm getting aroused in front of this guy? Once again, they can't win at this game. No matter how tough and brave they are, at this moment they act like nervous little boys trying not to look like the innocents they really are.

I put him through the usual routine of push ups and sit ups while he got used to me a little. After he had spent fifteen minutes following orders it was time to raise the stakes.

“OK, take the overalls off, but don't get dressed.” I delivered the instruction in the same matter-of-fact tone as all the previous orders.

He obeyed, as guys always do at this point, standing there in T-shirt, socks with his dangling maleness exposed and waited. I stepped closer and folded up his T-shirt under his armpits so I could check out his torso. He was completely hairless accept for the hair on his head and thick triangle of golden genital curls. I had him turn around like I was giving him a full once-over. Then the make or break moment arrived. How would he take to having his balls felt? One can never be certain. I cupped his big pendulous testicles in my hand, and he let me. I changed my grip several times so I could weigh them, feel them and move them around in the sack. He stood and took it. Moreover, his ample cock began to stiffen. Most guys will go along with this because they see it as a challenge and don't want to appear unmanly. This guy took it because he couldn't think what else to do on the spur of the moment. Having to partly strip took him by surprise. Having his balls felt confused him. The final straw, when he developed an erection, was just too much for him to think about. Stripping and getting control of a man is all about keeping up the momentum: move on to the next phase and don't give them time to think. There was no convention for this, no prior experience, so he had to stand and wait it out and see what might happen next.

It you are going to intimately manhandle straight guys whom you have just met it is important to understand the psychology and then the right methodology to adopt.

Stage 1: have him strip. The more physically fit he is, the more willing he will be to show it all off. Few men wish to look as though they are so precious that no one must look at them. I make a point of being indifferent to their nakedness.

Stage 2: I never touch a guy's cock first. I examine his balls because he will know it is common for a man to have his testicles medically examined from time to time, even if he has not yet had this done to him.

Stage 3: is he getting an erection? If he is, this makes things easier because this wrong-foots him. He is the one getting sexually aroused. I ignore the fact, it's our secret man-to-man thing, and thus he is grateful. He is now in my debt a little bit and so adopts a submissive posture. If he does not get aroused, be patient. Quite often guys have to learn how to act, to work out what is acceptable. Most human responses are 'learned behaviour'. Later training sessions will reassure him it's OK to do masculine things and an erection is just one of these things that happen. Sometimes, because of feelings of embarrassment, a man will actively try to block his mind to what is happening to ensure he does not get an erection. In later training sessions, with repetitive nakedness, he relaxes. Now he is likely to become sexually aroused. Then he will feel guilt or he will be afraid someone will make fun of him. When he becomes erect I make no reference to it at first as though I have not noticed. He is grateful and relaxes some more. Eventually I will compliment him on his overall masculinity, including but not drawing attention to his erect cock. Thus it becomes part of his performance as a man. By the second or third time I have him before me the man has come to associate stripping naked in front of me with the act of erection and it feels almost natural. That allows me to take him to the next stage.

So now Mark has a full blown erection. It's out of his control and he doesn't know what to do. He has no choice other than wait for my further instructions. In fact, it seems the longer I keep him waiting, the harder he gets. That is because his entire mental focus is on his dick sticking out in front of him. As I have said before, this is a key moment because this is the first point where he actively wants to be told what to do and how to behave. In his head he has no precedent for this. The course is now set. I peel his foreskin, bounce his cock in my hand as though checking it for weight and then tell him to get dressed.

So now he has been naked and vulnerable and he knows I have not hurt or abused him. There will be even less reluctance to strip when ordered to do so next time. The more times he is stripped, the more it becomes the new norm; and of course, I take the man a little further each time. Some men, however straight and masculine, become addicted to the 'risk'. What will be done to them next time?

Mark's employment was fairly short lived. Of course he was stripped and stroked a few times in the weeks to come. The point at which he objected was one evening when I had him naked, hands behind his head and bent over. I was behind him, leaning into him as I reached around his waist with my right arm, working his fully erect cock. Because I was leaning forward on him he was required to tense his leg muscles and push his hairless arse back into my crotch in order to keep his balance. The air was thick with sexual tension. He could probably feel my hard cock against him. He was rock hard and mindlessly taking a fist pounding. I knew he was aroused against his wishes and better judgment. I could sense he wanted to resist but could not figure out what to say or what to do, and this was a great turn on for me.

In my view there are two distinct states of domination of a male: (1) the man who 'gives in' and, for whatever reason, cooperates with the event for the moment to get it over, and (2) the man who wants to resist but knows he is temporarily trapped by his own ego. In this case there was a third option: Mark was trapped because he was too dumb to figure out a way to complain and was not prepared to risk offending or upsetting me.

As a consequence, I could feel the pain of his forced subjugation and his sense of humiliation at being sexually aroused against his will. Here he was naked, bent over and being forcibly aroused by my fist pummelling his cock. He was being psycho-sexually tortured with the added ingredient that he was expected to accept it like a man. Had he been tied up or held at gunpoint then, in terms of ego and self respect, he would have been off the hook because he could claim he had 'no choice'. This really was true and ultimate humiliation for a fit, tough straight man

I was talking to him about something unimportant and asking him questions about a few things as I rigorously jerked him. By making him think about his answers I was separating his limited mental powers from his autonomic body functions. Suddenly I felt his cock pump and his spunk jetted out, splattering the floor. I had been pumping him for maybe three or four minutes, however, he had been naked and hard in the room for about twenty minutes. In the end he just lost total control of his balls.

The following day he mumbled something about not being comfortable with being jerked off. This is one reason why I do not rush to do this. I have found I can often play around with a naked straight guy for months or even years and they tolerate it. Being forceable milked can leave them with an empty feeling and it is this they dwell on rather than the arousal experience. I have kept straight men is a state of arousal for years without taking them all the the way by equating manliness with swinging-cock nakedness. So, anyway, I said goodbye to Mark-2.

Don't think I am always entirely successful. Sometimes a guy can be so confused in a situation he goes along with things because he can't figure out what else to do. Jonathan was one such young man. He would have been about 18 years old when he came for the interview. He was small in stature - and this can make guys a little defensive - and had long very curly brown hair. By the mid eighties this fashion was beginning to change along with the shape of men's trousers. No more flares. I had Jonathan stripped to his briefs which were a kind of glossy-wet-look fabric in bright blue. He was very successful with the girls and always dressed in the hope an encounter would present itself. He also sported a light brown moustache. A very masculine young man.

One evening on a trip to London we had a few beers and back at the studio flat he lay on his stomach on a bed while I gently massaged his back. I then worked down his legs, lingering for a brief couple of minutes on his firm little arse before moving on to his legs. On the way back up I spent a little more time stoking his buttocks. He squirmed a little as I did so and I wondered if he was readjusting his crotch.

I carefully reached under and between his legs and at this point he actually lifted his pelvis to allow me to check out his balls and very erect cock. He even sighed a little. I had him turn over so I could massage his chest and stomach. I could see his cock wrapped around his thigh, trying to force itself out of his skimpy briefs. I decided the beast ought to be released. I folded down his undies. No objection, so I threaded them down his legs and removed them completely. He lay there, eyes closed.

I fingered his balls which lay loosely in their sack. Some men's ball sacks tighten when they get an erection. Jonathan's balls hung down a couple of inches between his thighs. His cock was big for his body size. I stroked it and peeled the foreskin. He sighed and arched his pelvis in response as if signalling for more. Then he came in a fountain of white goo jetting across his taught boyish stomach. He opened his eyes, looked at the deposit on his torso and said, quite angrily, “that wasn't a very nice thing to do, was it?”

He had not consumed so much to drink that he didn't know what was going on. Furthermore, his body language as I stroked him could not have indicated pleasure more clearly. In fact, his responses had been more overt than any other straight guy I have ever stroked. If a straight guy is being pleasured by another guy, no matter how much he is enjoying it, he is usually never going to show it. This just goes to show, people are unpredictable, even on a minute-by-minute basis.

Carl was a young ex-trainee footballer. He had just been let go by one of the major London clubs. I think his lack of height went against him. He was average (UK) height and fit but major league football (soccer) players are usually tall lads.

I was borrowing someone's London office for a few weeks and placed a job vacancy ad in one of the London 'classifieds' papers. He cycled over to Islington from Notting Hill on his bike. During the interview he told me he was squatting in a house with the tacit permission of the owner who was mostly overseas. Months earlier, he had let himself into the house through a very small window, left unlocked, because the owner did not imagine anyone could have possibly squirmed in through it. Once discovered, and seen to be house trained, he was allowed to remain as live-in security.

Within twenty minutes I had Carl almost naked. By the way, he happens to be one of only two black guys I have ever stripped and stroked. Don't read anything into that. He was wearing his football shorts as underpants - obviously his budget did not run to underwear - so I couldn't see as much as I wanted to. Therefore they had to come off. Now he stood in front of me, beautifully dark brown, slim, fit and naked. And the guy was really confident and genuinely friendly. Very likeable. Unlike the cold and stiff-arsed English he was totally relaxed at being naked in the office with me fully clothed. Clothed or unclothed it seemed to make no difference to him.

I wanted to find out just how open minded he might be. I don't usually move this fast. I had him kneel at my feet while I dropped my trousers and boxers. No problem so far. I held out my cock and said, “Slide on.”

He did so with almost no hesitation. This was a young man, obviously determined to get back on the ladder from which he had just been pushed off. Life in the big city with no job can focus a man's mind. I could tell it was his first cock because he tried to manoeuvre my manhood into the side of his mouth, against one of his cheeks, to try to prevent it slipping to the back of his mouth and making him gag. I had to tell him to take it properly, promising I wouldn't feed him more than he could handle.

It would not have been appropriate to cum at our first meeting, and after a few minutes I felt I was getting close, so I withdrew and allowed him to stand and dress, at which point he said the oddest thing, “Thank you for seducing me.”

I wasn't sure at first whether he was being sarcastic. He didn't seem to bear any animosity at just being face-fucked. I think he was simply a very polite guy, tough but still scared of the big bad world, who appreciated the time I was taking to be interested in him.

A week later I took him over to my studio flat and undressed him in more private surroundings. I told him to lie on the bed while I undressed. Without a word he complied. Then I eased on to him, cock to cock. Beneath me I felt his stiffen. He had not become erect in the office the week before. Obedient, yet displaying no trace of emotion. No sooner was he fully erect when he said, “I don't want to do this. I'm afraid I will become someone I don't want to become.”

So that was that. I do get bored with conquests after a while and I firmly believe the fun is in the chase, so, in a sense, I am quite happy when they 'let me off the hook', by which I mean they choose to leave before I get rid of them. Even so, I would have liked more of Carl.

I think you've probably had enough of the Being Masterful years, so I should change the subject. There were lots of other young studs I corralled: Guy the trainee lawyer; Alistair the Marine Scientist; Steve and Tyran, both really fit big-cocked ex-soldiers. And a few unsung heroes who bent over for England, whose names I can't even remember.

For instance the runner I picked up one afternoon. I don't think he was a jogger. I think he was hitching back home after an event. Clad only in skimpy shorts and vest, tall and rangy, my cock twitched as soon as I saw him at the roadside. I took him back to the office, stripped him and had him on his knees in less than ten minutes. When I slipped my cock into his young virgin mouth he gagged . . . and then apologised to me. That made so horny. I'm face fucking this totally innocent boy and instead of complaining, he's saying sorry he is so inexperienced. My guess was he was out of the house for a few hours, had only recently left school, not yet in college, and was still experiencing the novelty of exploring the world by himself.

He was not getting hard at all, no sign of arousal, too busy concentrating on learning to do what men do. I stood him up and bent him over so I could reach round to begin working his limp cock while at the same time rubbing myself against his muscular buttocks when, believe it or not, my rock hard dick, now coated in his saliva accidentally slipped right up into his rectum. I was only leaning against him, my foreskin peeled, facilitating entry, and I kind of fell into him. I was shocked, though he took it in his stride. Straight away I felt myself cuming and pulled out immediately to avoid leaving any evidence of inadvertent rape. He stood up and said simply, “So I guess I've just been fucked,” as though it was another one of life's 'firsts'. What could I possibly say to that?

In my own way I'm an explorer and, I like to think, inventive. If you are a sub kind of guy take a look at the new Virtual Slave section of my website, Enslaver.uk - wherever you are in the world, thanks to modern technology, I can own your balls. Membership is free. No catches, maximum privacy.