Being Masterful

Ricky - seriously manhandled

For a few days I reverted to training Ricky in the basic skills of commerce.  Of course I would have liked to have had him semi-naked in a white jockstrap while I did so but, with staff and visitors around that was hardly practical.

His preferred work attire  was an ensemble of black T-shirt, black jeans and black sneakers, all of which accentuated his slim yet quite muscular physique and his long legs.  When sitting he would drape himself across a chair with his feet up on an adjacent desk.  He did not have a desk of his own.  This posture revealed a split in the seam of his jeans directly under his crotch with the result his balls were clearly on display beneath his thin well-worn briefs whenever we were in conversation.

After a few days I decided I could safely stage a physical 'training day'. He had passed his driving test but had no transport so I allowed him to take one of the vans home.  It was safer outside his house than left in the deserted car park at night.  It was a perk for which he was grateful.  It would have taken him forever to commute on the bus. This allowed me to keep him back in the office any evening I wanted him.  

I had him strip to his briefs so I could look at him.  It was such a waste covering this powerfully trim body in cloth.  Then I ordered him to lie on the floor face down, spread his legs and fuck the floor while I stroked my hand across his firm gyrating buttocks.  I figured this would get him hard and once his juices were flowing he would be out of control and in my control.  After a few minutes I ordered him to stop and lift up his arse.  Kneeling between his legs I reached under him to check his crotch.  Sure enough his cock was rock hard and pushing the flimsy fabric of his briefs almost to snapping point. I gave him a detailed feel and, for good measure, as I withdrew my hand, thoroughly groped his dangling big ball sack.  You would have to be there to appreciate the turn on.  Picture the scene: a fabulously fit lad in his early twenties, absolutely straight, except for a little larking about with the boys; never been naked since puberty except with his girlfriend except for the time his mates left him in the stream on his 21st birthday.

He was spread and naked except for his usual threadbare undies which now hardly fitted him, with his incredible tight arse raised six inches off the floor at my command and presented (on a plate) for my approval.  All the while he was required to hold the arched position so that I could feel in the most intimate manner his most masculine parts.  More than actually fucking a guy, this is really how I want them.  Straining to obey and in some discomfort but feeling unable to complain.  I was so hard I could have cum in my pants just savouring the scene.

I slid my hand out and ordered him to resume.  He was grunting a little bit.

“Is it difficult?” I asked.

“Yes it is.  It hurts.”  

The floor was bare wood and he was having to scrape his rock hard cock against it, the fabric of his briefs offering little useful protection.  After ordering him to his feet I had him lose the undies and spread everything so I could look and feel. He had been at work since 8.00 am and I could smell his scent in his perspiration. Likewise, I had not had a shower, so I contented myself with a few minutes feeling his sweaty cock and balls before allowing him to dress and go home.

It was a few weeks later when we were in London when I had him alone in the small one room apartment I rented in Hammersmith.  This was my only foothold in London since I had sold up a couple of years earlier.  I showered first and dressed in a T-shirt and briefs before sending him into the bathroom.  I told him to return naked when he was cleaned up.  I sat on one of the two chairs and waited.

He took his time but eventually emerged, his taught body glistening.  I said we would go out for a meal shortly; after all, we had put in a full day's work.  But first I wanted him on the bed.  There were two single beds in the apartment, pushed together to conserve space.  It meant that two men could sleep more or less side-by-side but not 'together'.  We were all young guys and were accustomed to fairly rough-and-ready sleeping conditions.  In fact, a year or so earlier, I had overnighted in one of the vans a couple of times and on one occasion with Garry (more on him sometime).

Without comment Ricky lay on his back naked on one of the beds while I sat beside him.  There was no point in wasting time.  We both knew my next move.  I stroked my hand down slowly from his chest across his stomach.  By the time I had reached his crotch his cock was unfolding nicely, first of all lying sideways across the top of one of his legs and then edging up towards his navel like the second hand on a clock face.

I began to gently stroke his manhood and a faraway look entered his eyes as he stared at the ceiling. I have no idea how often he masturbated but I'm guessing it was pretty often.  We were at the factory before dawn this morning for the drive down to London so my guess he had not had any relief for at least 24 hours maybe longer. His cock grew and the girth expanded to dramatic proportions.  As the skin tightened the head pushed back the foreskin like a flower coming into bloom.

I changed positions, climbing over him and lying beside him, now running his beautiful big balls through my fingers while I propped myself up as best I could to watch him succumbing to my seduction. This was our most sexual encounter so far and was well beyond guys fooling around showing off their cocks to the gang.

Without any warning he half lifted himself off the bed and pushed me flat on my back.  It was a sudden and unexpected move.  Before I could react he pulled down the front of my briefs, took a firm grip on my erect cock, then plunged his face into my groin, forcing his mouth deep on to my cock.  His tongue force-peeled my foreskin and I uncontrollably bucked forward deeper into him.

The encounter lasted all of ten seconds and then he pulled away as quickly as he had jumped me.  He appeared to be angry with himself, and with me for  putting him in the frame of mind to do it.   However, he was not prepared to move away to jump up and get dressed. He lay for a moment breathing heavily wondering what to do next. Technically he was still under my command.  It was an odd and awkward situation.  He now wanted to resist but was not prepared to annoy me to the extent that his job might be put at risk.

I told him to turn over and lie on his stomach.  Having folded my cock back into my briefs, I kneeled across him, partly sitting on his backside, and massaged his shoulders and back for ten minutes.  It calmed him down.  I then turned him over.  At first I was sitting astride his hips so I could reach and massage his chest and stomach. As I moved I could feel his cock rising once again until it now touched the underside of my balls - according to how I positioned myself to massage his torso.  I let it touch me a couple of times and then made sure I rubbed my balls over the tip.  I knew how to handle Ricky.  It was necessary to give him the excuse to get aroused but do it as though it was somehow a natural bioproduct of some other exertion. He needed the pretence.

I understood the mindset perfectly.  Neither of us wanted gay, girlish sex.  We didn't 'fancy' each other.  This was brutal and mechanical male sex; as masculine as getting hard in a wrestling match or in any physical activity.

I moved down to his knees, still sitting astride him, so I could easily take a hold of his cock and continue where I left off before his emotional outburst occurred.  Even though I moved slowly, enjoying the moment and being very gentle with him, within five minutes I felt his body stiffen, his pelvis buck, and then observed three streams of his white spunk jetting through the air and landing across his torso as far up as his neck.

I reached over for some tissues in the bedside cabinet and wiped him down.  He didn't move while I did so.  He kept his hands at his sides as I wiped down from his neck, across his chest and then his stomach. He didn't move an inch as I then took his still hard cock in my right hand while I squeezed the remaining droplets of spunk from around the head, finally folding his foreskin back into position.

“Time to eat,” I said as I headed for the bathroom to flush the tissues and wash my hands.  “The Chinese across the road is good.”

He was on his feet pulling on his jeans when I emerged.  Nothing was said then or on any future occasion.

The last sexual encounter I had with Ricky was a couple of months later. I had been picking up signs of resistance and independence of spirit. The boy was growing up and becoming more confident.  He had still been obeying all orders but with a token hesitation.  One time, as he experienced that uniquely empty let down after a powerful ejaculation he said, “You take advantage of me because I'm over-sexed.  I know I'm over-sexed.  There's nothing I can do.”  Another time he said, while getting dressed, “My girlfriend and me.  We're starting to have more rows.”

The implication was that I was confusing his sexual responses.  The fact was, the uniqueness, the strangeness, the allure, that exciting little frisson of danger - these things were starting to wear off. It was time for him to explore somewhere else and play other games.

This last time we were in the London studio apartment.  He was on the bed naked and I was wearing briefs, fresh from the shower.  I pumped him dry and he moaned and cried out loudly as his cum splattered everywhere.  Over the months he had learned to let go a little - a grunt here or a muffled exhalation of breath, but nothing much.  This was the first time he really gave in to emotion - though exactly what emotion or mixed emotions I have no idea.  I think we had reached the point where he was sort of getting off on being aroused and milked against his will.  He wanted it but he didn't want it.  He was tough but he experienced a feeling of guilt that somewhere, deep down, he enjoyed being made to feel weak.  I can only guess, but I'm usually a pretty good judge of these things.  I know more about my guys than they know about themselves.

Anyhow, the bucking and the moaning, the guy in whatever kind of ecstasy he was experiencing, really turned me on and I yanked down my briefs, grabbed my own cock and and ferociously jerked myself off, shooting my cum over his already cum-covered torso.

He felt I should not have done that; as though I had pissed on him.  I had removed the barrier of pretence that this was manly posturing.  I guess he felt soiled.

So that was that.  Our relationship became strained and this coincided with yet another UK-wide  financial crisis.  I decided my current enterprise had run its course and began firing guys as I wound it down.  I gave Ricky a very good reference and, about six months later, he told me he had secured a good job with the Department of Employment.  The failing private sector job market had caused a demand for more government bureaucratic intervention. Clouds and silver linings I guess.

I ran that business for five years.  Let me give you a few of the highlights, personnel-wise.

I had two guys both named Mark who worked for me at different times. Mark-1 was a 17 year old smallish, slim kid.  He rode a motorbike that was way too big for him.  It once fell over on him while he was trying to park it and he walked around with his arm in a plaster cast for three weeks.  Mark-1 was quiet, shy, not as intelligent as Ricky but he was skilful (at cabinetry and anything involving tools) and had a really dedicated and professional attitude to work.

Because he was so young I was careful with him.  However, in no way did his youth detract from his work ethic.  He was good and reliable.

On the first occasion I took Mark and two other guys down to London for a couple of days to work on a project he brought his pyjamas with him - so sweet.  The other guys, after a hard days work and a meal, would shower and dive into their sleeping bags in their underpants.  Mark went into the bathroom to put on his jammies.  He only did this on our first trip.  By the second he had dispensed with both the underpants, so obviously purchased by his mom, and his pyjamas.  At bedtime he stripped to a pair of brand new well-cut blue briefs and made sure everyone saw them.

  I was always discreet in the way I handled my men but, I guess, when they are talking among themselves, hints get dropped.  After Mark had been working with me a few months I invited him over to the house one sunny summer's Friday evening after work.  I showed him where the shower was and handed him a pair of clean thin cotton shorts that were a size too small for me.  Without any questions he trotted off to the shower and reappeared five minutes later in the shorts.

When he walked into the lounge I couldn't miss the bulge in the front of the shorts.  I walked over and casually pulled forward the elasticated waistband so I could look inside.  His boy sized cock was ramrod straight up.

I laughed and said, “What's this?”

He went bright red, said nothing, but was grinning from ear to ear looking very pleased with himself.  I summoned  up all my self control to resist touching him and told him to give me a shoulder massage.  I had taken a quick shower before he arrived and was wearing loose cotton trousers and a T-shirt only.  I sat in a chair and while he stood beside me I taught him how to give a shoulder massage.  Of course he didn't have the confidence to do it properly but he gave it a good shot.

Next I lay on the couch on my stomach and told him to sit astride me and try giving me a back massage.  This was a ruse to get him accustomed to closer physical contact.  He was touching me with his hands - very much a first for him - while his thighs were astride my hips so that we touched mid body.  I detected no resistance at all.  After a very relaxing and pleasant couple of hours I said he should go home, making sure to stand next to him while he stripped naked to put his own clothes back on.  His cock was still hard.

Over the next few months I gently worked on him; not like I did with Ricky, because Mark had such a quiet and shy personality.  I eventually got him naked.  I have noticed (I am after all an expert in the field) that guys with big cocks can get them hard but often not upright.  When fully aroused they are horizontal, which is fine. The guys with slightly smaller cocks usually develop flagpole vertical erections due to the way the blood pumps up the penis. Mark's cock was always ninety degrees banging against his lower stomach, and it was enchantingly sensitive.  The merest touch and it would lurch forward into my hand, begging to be stoked.  I loved the way he let out a little gasp when this happened.  Mark was a total virgin.  No girlfriend yet; no sexual experience, though he had learned how to masturbate.

I was the first person to touch him intimately since his mother bathed him as a child.  Whenever he walked into my office and detected I intended to get personal with him I could see his brain switch from work mode to pleasure mode and, even was he walked across the room, I could see a bulge grow in his jeans. By the time he got close to me it was wrapped around his pelvis and almost popping out of his trouser pocket.

The main reason I was generally so gentle with Mark was because I did not want to dilute his sensitivity.  The slightest touch turned him on uncontrollably.  I had to be careful he did not spurt before I had played with him, though I have no doubt, given a couple of minutes, he would be recharged and be ready again.

I took him to London by himself a few times because he was genuinely a really handy lad to have around.  The evenings were a bonus.  The first time I made a point of getting him in the shower with me.  I lingered over every inch of his milk-white skin as I cleaned away the day's grime.  Then I told him to do the same to me.  His touch was delicate and deferential, especially when he got down to my groin. He hesitated as though he didn't know how to begin or what he was allowed to do.  I guided his hands over me and he soon got the hang of things.

This was also the first occasion I had him on his knees, and mine was the first cock he had ever sucked.  In my earlier description I described him as 'professional'.  That was a mindset that applied to everything he did.  I expected more trepidation from him as he slid his soft mouth on to my very hard cock for the first time, particularly as my cock was almost flagpole vertical.  He had to stretch up and kneel forward. As he was not yet sure of the etiquette he did not feel confident to take hold of my cock.  All of this was new and it was a steep learning curve for him.  He slipped his mouth over my cock head, eased on a couple of inches and used his mouth to pull my cock to a more horizontal position so he could get comfortable on it.

For the next twenty minutes - including breaks to rest his mouth - I taught him how to suck and tongue and then how to stroke my balls all at the same time.  He never complained or requested a break, but to give him a rest, I laid him out on the carpet and crawled on top of him.  Periodically, I had to hold off from rubbing against him because I felt I might cum and cut short the pleasure.

I trained him with care and patience in the coming years.  I was surprised, and impressed how quickly he learned to take all of my cock into his throat.  Even at the beginning of this phase of training there was almost no gagging.  Mark was very much a 'stiff upper lip' Brit.  Maybe it was because he was a fairly small chap he thought expressing emotion might make him look weak.  He only ever spoke when spoken to, only expressed opinions on business matters, so much so that another one of my guys (who was stripped and whipped regularly) asked me if I had specifically trained Mark to be a silent servant.  This other guy was Tristan.  You can read about him on my website in the section 'Cannabis and Control'.  It was my intention to pair up Tristan and Mark for joint training sessions and I had forewarned Tristan this was going to happen but I never got around to it.

On one occasion I had Mark bent over and ready in the London studio flat but then the phone rang.  He was up for the experience, to try out a first arse fucking.  I had my rigid cock firmly between his cheeks - then the business call and, somehow, we never got back to it.  Life was so busy back then.  Besides which, having my cock sucked is my favourite pastime and Mark had trained up so well to do it.    I said before I treated him gently.  The only partial exception was cock sucking exercises.  I liked to lay him out on the floor and then climb on top of him so my crotch was in his face.  First I would have him give me a really thorough ball licking.  He had to stretch his tongue and strain his neck so he could stroke the tip of his tongue under my balls and lick right to the back of my ball sack.  As I've said before, I like to see a guy having to struggle to pleasure me.

Then I would push his head to the carpet and I would thread my cock into his waiting wide open mouth, very, very, slowly.  I liked the idea of keeping him waiting, knowing what was coming.  He had to open himself up, in full submission for total penetration so I could ease beyond his mouth and into his throat.  To enable the final fit he would have to raise his head a little and stretch forward his neck to ease the passage.  This action, beyond mere acquiescence, more like supplication, was the final turn on that would cause me to let go and empty the contents of my testicles into my delicate virgin.

At some point he acquired a girlfriend - and very pretty she was.  I think the motorbike may have helped.  It did not interfere with our relationship, which was master-servant and separate from everything else.

Coming back to the question Tristan had asked: did I impose excessive control on young Mark? One particular incident comes to mind.  It was very late at night; after midnight.  We were driving back from London in one of the vans, weaving along the mountain roads.  I thought Mark might have been asleep in the passenger seat by now.

He surprised me by saying, “All this swaying about is making me hard.”

In more than a couple of years it was the first time he had initiated that kind of conversation.

I thought for almost half a second, then replied, “Come over hear and let me feel how hard.”

The van had a bench seat that would seat three persons.  Mark unclipped his seat belt and slid over to me.  He had made the first overture. This was the first and only time.  His balls must have been bursting at the seams.  Now it was my turn to take control.  I told him to unfasten his jeans and then heard the zip come down.  I reached into his warm crotch and felt the familiar bulge under his briefs.

A few minutes later I pulled off into a roadside parking space.  We were in the middle of nowhere.  I ordered him into the back of the van and had him lie down and remove his shoes, jeans and underpants while I did likewise.  It had been a long hard day.  This was a little treat I had not been expecting, so was all the better.  I lay on him, rubbed cocks together, stroked his cock and balls - quite roughly and urgently - and instructed him to do likewise to me.  We came in synchronisation our sticky fluids oozing up between our grinding bodies.  I'm usually much more careful than that.  I like things neat and orderly.  Both our torsos were smeared in each others cum, and it was pitch dark in the back of the van so I struggled to find a handkerchief.  We were dripping everywhere.  At one point we finished wiping down with our underpants and then pulled on our jeans without them.  Mark went home to his family with cum soaked briefs stuffed in his pocket.

There was the proof, if I had wanted any, that Mark wanted to be stripped and face-fucked regularly.  His style was not to ask but to silently offer himself up.

More true stories from the eighties when English lads were so innocent.

Next time:   Mark-2.  Also honourable mentions to Jonathan, Garry and the black apprentice footballer (soccer to you Americans) from Notting Hill Gate.  Oh, and remind me not to forget Toby, the young builder who asked me for advice about his cock.

Fiction can be fun but factual always has the edge.  Knowing the story is true gives it that extra zing.  On my website you can read 'Cannabis and Control', the true story of how I stepped out of polite society to create my own loyal 'cannabis commandos'.  In the coming weeks I am also uploading new chapters of a another full length Ebook, 'Sodalitz', based on an encounter in Germany in the early eighties with a young army conscript and the fraternity to which he belonged.

You might be surprised just how easy it is to create a reality of your own; a secret world separate from the norm where unique and unusual rules apply, and how many men then want to step in to it.

Want to read some really unusual stuff?  Keep checking my website: Enslaver.uk.  The secret stuff is for members only.  Membership is free and totally confidential.