Being Masterful

Aaron enslaved

I couldn't wait any longer. Aaron was not the only one nervously waiting for the next move. I ordered him to put his hands behind his back and remove my briefs using his teeth only. I wanted to see him struggle. Sensibly, he tried to get a grip on the elasticated waistband. The garment kept getting snagged on my erect cock each time he tried to pull it down and his first couple of attempts achieved nothing. It was interesting to watch as he figured out a strategy. He had to get a real grip which meant pushing into my abdomen with his face and bearing down on the waistband and then gathering an inch or so of fabric into his mouth. Then he had to pull the bundle over my cock, which was not easy because, as the fabric pulled away from my body, so my cock lurched forward as well. His gentle tugging became more aggressive. Eventually, my cock sprang free, poking him in the face, but that allowed him to wedge the elastic under my balls. He now had the front of my briefs part way down. I turned around so he could get to the back of them. In repeating his stratagem he was obliged to drag his nose and face across my right buttock. That gave me an idea for later.

It probably took him three minutes or so to get my underpants off. I take the view if a man has to work at something then he appreciates the resultant reward all the more. His reward was that I allowed him to take my cock into his mouth. With his hands still firmly behind his back he gently slid on. I knew full well this guy was no virgin so I would have to be inventive to take him to his boundaries. I ordered him to suck; nothing to demanding at first; if only because I like to to receive a gentle warm mouth around my cock while I warm up. He had gone down on me with my foreskin still in place, so now as he sucked, I used my fingers to pull back on my shaft, allowing the sensitive head to unfurl on his soft, warm, wet tongue. I permitted him to work my cock with his mouth, diligently, for a few minutes.

Now I wanted to see how much he could take and how experienced he was. If he had practised submission regularly he was probably desensitised enough to take my cock into his throat without gagging. I once had a young man (long after the events of this evening) whom I knew to be a virgin and yet he was able to take my cock into his throat for the first time without gagging. I think that was probably because he was anxious to please and was a boy possessed of a good degree of self-discipline.

I instructed Aaron to stop sucking, took a hold of both sides of his head and slowly pushed deeper into his mouth; very, very slowly so we both could savour the sensation. Sure enough, as I reached the back of his throat, he gagged. That pleased me. It indicated he was not unduly experienced. From his behaviour in a subsequent meeting I suspected he had a very regular boyfriend; maybe an older man. Just because he wanted to experience a 'walk on the wild side' did not necessarily mean he had actually ever done it. In fact, I think he latched on to me because I was everything his partner was not.

I pulled out to let him recover. But only for a moment. I was being gentle only because this was a symphony that should begin slowly and quietly. I would intensify the pace but right now I wanted to milk the degrees of pleasure as we moved towards the crescendo. Slowly, I eased my spit-covered cock back into his mouth. Now that I knew, that he knew, what was coming, it intensified the pleasure. I wanted him to know in advance he was going to be choking on my cock once again in couple seconds. Part of the art of subjugation is letting your victim know what is coming - and giving him a moment or two to fear it. He gagged again as I pushed back into him but this time I held him by the hair to ensure his face stayed firmly impaled on my rampant cock. I wanted to see if he would try to struggle free. He did not. He choked, and gasped and retched and took the punishment. Good! I gave it a few seconds then withdrew to allow him to breathe and calm down.

As a favour, I instructed him to lick my balls. I am, I believe, a considerate master. It would give him time to relax his jaw muscles. With his hands still behind his back he struggled a bit because my balls kept moving in their sack and sliding off his tongue. I told him to use his fingers to steady my balls so he could tongue each one thoroughly. Then I ordered him to stick out his tongue fully and slide it under my balls so he fully supported them. This is fun for me because the underside and back of my scrotum is especially sensitive. To accomplish the manoeuvre he had to push his face hard into my crotch. My penis was flat against his nose and forehead. It's a difficult thing to do - that's why I had him do it - because my balls are hanging beneath my cock so it's kind of in the way. After two unsuccessful attempts to get it exactly right, he used his hand to scoop my balls forwards on to his outstretched tongue, and then knelt there between my legs, head craned slightly upward and face pressed hard into my crotch. I kept him there several minutes so that we could both enjoy his discomfort. It was not an easy position to maintain.

I don't believe in administering much pain when I am man training because it detracts from the main objective of the exercise. If a man is focusing on the pain he is not concentrating on the submissive elements. First, I want him to be embarrassed. Men always assume because they are sexually experienced that nothing they do when naked can any longer make them feel self-conscious. I disavow them of that notion early on. That always gets their attention. Many young men in our crowded cities settle into a routine when having sex, so the first thing is to introduce then to somethings new. Here is a list. It's not exhaustive.

Tell them they must follow orders - and then I really piss them about. Many men can't cope easily with that - performing to order. They start to get a little irritated and that's fine by me because I am the one supposed to be enjoying the proceedings, not them.

Make them wait. Young men are headstrong and impatient. Keeping them waiting is soon interpreted as a put down. And it gives them time to ponder their position, which in this scenario is lowest of the low. Thinking too deeply is something else they don't like doing.

Have them perform menial little tasks and then tell them they have not done the task well enough.

Avoid giving them tasks which make them seem manly and virile. This is why administering pain is counter productive in submission training because it makes them feel strong.

I stroked Aaron's short black hair while I taught him patience. Now it was time for something else. My sitting room, in that flat, was quite small. It was the epitome of slightly shabby respectability. That was no problem as I can be inventive with the everyday items at hand. Against the wall was a dark red leather chair. New, but old fashioned looking. It suited the Victorian architecture and the deep red velvet curtains I had purchased at an auction; beautifully stitched and at least one hundred years old. The chair had a high winged back. I went over to sit in it, then had Aaron crawl over to me. The minutes he had spend kneeling between my legs had calmed his erection. It was now at half mast. I told him to stand and place his balls on the arm of the chair. To do this he had to bend his knees and spread his legs to lower his balls on to the smooth leather.

“Slide your balls back and forth along the arm.”

It was a ridiculous thing to have him do. He began, self consciously, but I decided he was not trying hard enough. I told him I wanted to see more motion and not just a little jiggling. This was another simple instruction that was actually difficult to execute. His left shin was hard against the chair cushion on which I was sitting so he had to pivot his body to get his right leg further around the side of the chair. To push forward required him to half sit on the arm while clenching his arse cheeks around it on the forward thrust. He really worked at getting it done right and, by arching his back, was able to roll his balls back and forth more than 12 inches at each stroke. It was an exercise that he found suitably belittling and he started to get hard again. It was, as ever, a little thing but it struck all the right notes: a struggle, pointless to the extent of being insulting, repetitious, and because I was assessing his performance, demeaning - all at the same time. If only his workmates in the City could see him at this moment, working up a sweat, concentrating so hard on running his delicate balls along the leather work, riding the arm of my leather chair. I wonder if he was thinking that also - and getting off on the thought.

I suspected Aaron would come back for more if I played him right. In fact that was another angle I was working on. Could I arrange things so that this evening played on his mind in the days to come, as he sat in his suit and tie at his office desk? Could I turn my temporary control into an in infinite invisible thread of bondage? This would mean ramping up the sexual excitement but stopping short of fulfilment.

I'm big on hygiene. That's a topic that will come up again and again. I had showered at 7.00 pm. It was now after midnight. Aaron looked like he had scrubbed up well after a sweaty day at the office and a ride home on a packed train. Nevertheless, it was time to get a lot more personal, so I led him down the hallway to the bathroom. The first thing I did when I moved in here was to have the small box room converted into a proper modern bathroom. Being an old property it had been built with an outside lavatory with wall space to hang up a tin bath,

I stood behind him in the shower and fingered him between his soft yet firm arse cheeks with a soapy hand. Technically he was a man, being in his early or mid twenties, but he had not yet shed his boyish gentle curves. His skin was tight, unblemished, his abdomen was naturally taught and his muscle tone across his thighs was faultless. If he had claimed to be a virgin it would have been believable. He looked so sweet.

As the warm water cascaded over our bodies I reach around the front of him with my arm to stroke and wash his balls and cock. The action necessitated I pull him closer to me. I took the opportunity to let my very erect cock slip between his cheeks. It was not my intention to fuck him - at least not right now - I just wanted one of the most sensitive parts of my body to rub against one of the softest parts of his. I had to be careful, though, because I was getting to the stage where I might cum unexpectedly.

I turned around and ordered him to wash my arse while I rinsed my cock once again. This was possibly the first time I had experienced a man's fingers between my cheeks, and that was because the guys I got naked with, so far, were usually as fastidious as I was. I knew he would not attempt to penetrate me because I had not given him the order to do so. Gently, he fingered the inner surfaces of both cheeks before applying a soapy forefinger to my bud. I was now ready to try something I had read about but that was all.

I had him dry me off before I permitted him to towel himself down. Back in sitting room, in front of the fire, I had him lie down on his back. I then kneeled across his face so my balls dangled against his lips. He knew what his next task was to be and patiently awaited the order.

“Lick my balls. All the way round. Front, underside and back.”

He set to work. At one stage I held his head in my right hand to support it in order to make it a little easier to get his tongue all the way between my legs. On my knees I then moved forward a few inches while keeping my hand on the back of his head so his tongue now traversed the skin between my balls and my anus. I'm surprised this most sensitive part of the male anatomy has only one name, the perineum, when balls and arses have so many different names that get used. I moved forward a fraction more so his tongue had only one place to go. I had been with him now for well over an hour and, to some extent, had the measure of him. My guess was that he had never done this before. I was all set to despoil this rather sensitive young man.

I wriggled forward some more and then sat back on his face. This was a first for both of us. He did not falter. I felt his tongue probing between my arse cheeks. It was warm, and soft, and wet . . . and absolute bliss. My cock started really throbbing as my heartbeat quickened and the blood pressure increased. I arched my back and pushed down on him. I heard him gasp but he manfully pressed on with his allotted task. The tip of his tongue played across the outer surface of my bud; hesitantly at first; then with more confidence. As I mentioned earlier, this boy learned fast and he was inherently well disciplined. My guess his school motto must have been something like “no half-measures, never disappoint” - whatever that might be in Latin.

That was it! I could contain myself no longer. I could feel myself starting to cum. I wriggled back so my cock was above his face and fell to my knees so that my cum jetted across his mouth and nose. I did not want to have to clean the carpet. He closed his eyes as a second and a third spurt shot onto his forehead and ever so slightly into his fringe of black hair.

I let his head fall back and then scooped the cum which lay across his face into my fingers so that when I prised open his tender lips I could smear it on to his tongue. I wiped my two fingers back and forth across his tongue, roughly, dismissively, before ordering him to swallow, confident in my own mind that I had now well and truly achieved my aim of properly soiling this rather handsome and delicate young man. There could be little doubt: no one had done this to him before.

I watched him as he swallowed loudly once or twice.

I inserted my two finger back into his mouth. “Now lick my fingers clean.” It was as though I was blaming him for the sticky mess we were in. Then I reached over to where my T-shirt lay on the floor so I could first wipe my dripping cock and then, and only then, clean up his face with it.

“Get on your feet and get dressed. I'll drive you home.”

My earlier irrational bad mood had been replaced with the customary feeling of emptiness that always followed ejaculation. For the next few hours I would have no more interest in sex - or in the boy I had dragged off the street for my pleasure. The only words spoken in the car were my question as to where he lived and his reply. As before, he partially deflected any question that might contribute to my identification of him.

“You can drop me anywhere near Clapham Common,” was his vague response.

Clapham Common covers a big area so when we were on one of the roads that skirted the Common I kept driving until he was prepared to ask me to stop. I pulled over. He made no immediate attempt to get out. Maybe he was still awaiting further orders. Now a spent force for several more hours I had to try to imagine how I might feel when my sexual energy regrouped in the morning. Nodding in the direction of the floodlit church I said, “Be here next Tuesday at nine.”

He nodded. I added, “You do not cum for two days before we meet. In fact, at least two days. I want to feel your balls full of spunk next time. Understand me?”

He nodded again. “Good boy. Now fuck off.” I looked over at him in the passenger seat. He could see the twinkle in my eye. Without a word he got out of the car. The road was not especially well lit. I waited a while watching him recede into the semi darkness, this gentle, intelligent boy, hands in jacket pockets, head bowed, quietly tramping home after three hours of systematic abuse and quasi-rape, albeit with his consent. I pulled off at the next junction and drove home.

I met Aaron a couple of more times but, to be blunt, there were so many other men in London whom I wished to explore, and time was limited. The fun for me, as I have already intimated, is not fucking a guy's arse but fucking with his head (and of course fucking him in the face - that goes without saying). After a couple more hours with Aaron I had exhausted what might be termed 'the surprise factor' and it was time to move on. The excitement was in the hunt and bringing them down. I had no wish whatsoever to have a steady relationship.

These are all true accounts of my younger days in London in the early 1980s. Back in October 2020 I wrote a couple of stories under the name 'Markpomoca'. The stories are titled 'Exploring the dynamics of masculinity'. If you have not already read them, I think you will find them entertaining. I enjoyed contributing so much to Gay Demon that I decided to set up my own website, www.enslaver.uk

On there I have catalogued the events that turned me on to the complex issue of domination and submission. For example my brushes with neurotic German border guards caught between domestic terrorism and a restless Soviet army. You don't forget being stripped at gunpoint by a bunch of nervous trigger-happy conscripts, some of whom are younger than yourself. It was an interesting sensation - and I made mental notes.

I wanted to record my adventures for posterity and also, I wanted to rekindle my interest in photography - especially as video quality and streaming speeds have hugely increased. Back in the 1980s the process involved a darkroom, numerous chemicals and dishes, an enlarger and photographic paper. It was fun seeing the naked boys materialise in the dishes, but it was hard work late at night. As I have grown older I have also developed an interest in more mature men. I suppose this is because I now have the knowledge and confidence to take control of them. The young men are fun because they are virginous, nervous and a blank canvas, whereas with older men there is much more to grapple with, in every sense. Now that video production is much easier I, and my friends, can sit back in comfort and watch, over and over, the new targets of my ritual humiliation.

Next up: Ricky the farm boy

In 1985 I packed my bags and moved from London back up to the North of England. The harsh, frozen north where men are real men!