Being Masterful

For the first time

It took me a long time to realise what really excited me, what rocked my world, what floated my boat, what instantly caused my otherwise limp cock to spontaneously unfurl in my pants and become as rigid as a flag pole.

When I was young-and-full of spunk I would take an interest in the boys around me and certainly want to grope them and try and get their pants off. I had my fair share of successes.  So, I have this limp-cocked adolescent standing in front of me with his pants down, looking confused, wondering what I'm doing.  Then what?  Having looked, I really had no idea what I should do next.

By the time I reached my late teens I knew enough to get them hard and even jack them off. I don't recall any of them ever returning the favour.  That was because they were all straight guys and had they not been so spunked-up and short on girlfriends they would not have permitted it.

One evening, when I was about nineteen or twenty I was propositioned by an older chap.  He was probably all of thirty years old.  On the back seat of my car he tore down my pants, lifted out my hard cock and went down on me.  I remember the stubble on his chin scratching me a little and, this being the first time I had been cock-sucked, it made me recoil.  He pulled me back on to him.  Afterwards I was not sure how much I had really enjoyed the moment, though it was the acorn of an idea that was to grow, in the coming months and years, into a stonking great trunk of a sturdy English Oak.

The thing was, he had made all the moves; he had undressed me, he had pulled me on to him. He had been in control.  Because, at first, the young men I undressed were the guys around me, they were all straight.  A grope they would tolerate, even being stroked to orgasm in some cases, but cock sucking was out of the question.  That was not a problem because the thing I was enjoying, though I did not realise it, was that I was in control; I made all the moves.

It took a relocation to London to boost my confidence - and my ego!  That was when I first took an interest in the gay scene.  Boy, did those gay guys know how to party!  Now I was getting fairly regular cock-sucks and thoroughly enjoying them.  I was slim, reasonably good-looking and more-or-less straight.  Those qualities attracted quite a few guys and made them easy to pull.  You could say, this was the intermediate stage in my sexual exploration.  I was the hunter and my reward was a good-looking naked young man on his knees between my legs.  For a long while that was sufficient.

Still, something was missing.  I had the thrill of the chase, and the acquiescence, but that little extra zing was absent.  Then, one day, I picked up a young man late one dark and rainy night in one of the sprawling South London suburbs.  He was dark haired, slim, my height and roughly my age - about twenty-three - and quite obviously highly intelligent, something that showed through in even preliminary conversation.  It had been a difficult day at work and so I was not in a good mood.  I was far from my usual charming self.  As soon as I had him behind my front door, I asked him why he had consented so readily to jump into my car.  I was a stranger, it was nearly midnight, he was walking alone through a moderately rough part of town.

“It was the way you ordered me to get in.  You sounded . . . what's the word . . .masterful.”

Sure enough, my cock immediately sprang to life and attempted to climb out of my pants. My cock had realised the significance before my brain had registered the implications.  The briefest knowing look shot between us. Because my mood was already dark, I was not about ask him for clarification or permission.

We were still standing in the narrow entrance hallway of my little flat.  I pushed him against the wall, holding my hand against his stomach.  I could feel his breathing becoming heavier.  As I already mentioned, this guy was so evidently highly intelligent.  It was obvious from his manner, his face, his whole attitude.  Like me, he was decisive and could sum people up in an instant.  He looked directly into my eyes and I could read exactly what was going through his mind at that instant.

He was wearing blue denim jeans.  I reached down and took a moderately firm hold on his crotch.  The thick fabric required a decisive grip in order to feel the extent of his package beneath.  Instead of the normal reaction of a sharp intake of breath and stiffening musculature, he exhaled and his entire body went limp as though surrendering to my assault.  The signal of willing capitulation was unmistakeable.  It was like he was relaxing into the inevitable.  

This was a unique situation for me.  With straight guys there was always tension and some resistance, even when I had my fist wrapped around their cock, even if their resistance was little more than tokenism.  With the gay guys I had been bringing home the atmosphere had always been consensual.  This encounter was a first for me. We were not going to be stroking and fondling and gently caressing.  This guy had read something in me that I had not known about.  I said he was clever. He had detected a streak of well hidden, deep down, ruthless cruelty. Moreover, he was  prepared to submit to it, to allow it to be unleashed, and to take whatever consequences might follow.

I unfastened his jeans and pulled them down to his knees.  The muscle tone of his thighs was superb, his skin was clear and almost hairless.  His tight white briefs highlighted the gentle curvature of his lower body while the bulge in the front suggested the contents were of a respectable volume, even before much sign of an erection.

I fingered the package in detail, getting to know my new property.  Having gazed appreciatively at the regions below his waist I now looked into his eyes as I continued to examine his balls and cock still safely nestling beneath the cotton.  I knew he was reading my thoughts.  I was not (yet) hurting him but nor was I gently caressing.  It was obvious I was surveying, coldly and analytically, his equipment before I took  full possession.

Still in the hall, a couple of inches behind my front door, I ordered him to take off his shoes, socks and jeans.  He still had on his jacket.  He removed his shoes placing his socks neatly in them.  Then he removed his jeans and handed them to me.  I threw them down the hall.  Next I took hold of his shoulders and spun him round.  I had to lift up both his jacket and shirt to look at his tight well-rounded arse, which I then stroked.

I turned him round again, to face me.  “Take off your briefs!”

He did, handing them once again to me.  As before I dismissively threw them on to the crumpled jeans.  His cock, only partially erect, peaked from beneath his check shirt.  I stood back to look.  Deliberately, I had made him look foolish by stripping him from the waist down.  In a sense he looked like some kind of large bird; plumage on the upper body and barelegged beneath.

The look on his face told me he was appreciating the way I was slowly denigrating him.  I had not afforded him the luxury of allowing him to disrobe in a fashion that would have displayed his evident charms to best advantage.  I had not let him into the building fully.  Here he stood in the draughty hall, the passing traffic just a few feet away clearly audible, with his dick hanging from beneath the hem of his shirt.  I was in no rush.  I had all night and he was at my mercy.  I think, at that moment, we both paused for a couple of minutes to consider the enormity of that prospect.

This young man had given me license to do whatever I wanted with him.  He had elected to be at my mercy, entirely reliant on my good grace. That fact needed some thought and careful consideration. Until now, sex had usually been hurried and often furtive.  I was strangely relaxed.  Excited, but of a mind to pace events.  I was determined to extract every unreasonable ounce of pleasure from this situation.

Up next: I take my first steps in learning the art of man control and begin to understand why it is the ultimate turn on.  Until you have really and totally owned another man you can't imagine.

Chapter 2: Being Masterful.  The rules of the game.

Learn more about how to select a suitable man and gain control, on my website: enslaver.uk