I was in my early twenties at the time of this story. I was living in a large city, and had made some contacts in the bdsm world, since that scene really fascinated me. I was sure at that time in my life that I would meet the man who was capable of doing what I felt I needed to be done in order for me to explore my sexuality fully. I sought this person in every bar I went to, and always had an eye out for him on the street. I had even come up with a name for him, the 'One'. The One who would take me to places I wanted to go.
I have since found that this sort of journey occurs only within a person, and that we are the only people capable of taking ourselves truly anywhere. But in those days I continued the search, and met with many discouraging encounters for my efforts. As with so many cases of this kind, it was only when I had stopped the hunt and was preoccupied with the visit of a friend from out of town that I met someone who I thought would fill the requirements I had set out.
He was in his late thirties, and was pretty good looking. His name was Ken, and he was of average height, had a small moustache which he kept pretty neatly trimmed, and he was wearing denim jeans and a leather jacket. I was in a local bar, standing on the upper deck, as it were, that looked out over the narrow dance floor. I had watched from this vantage point the intimate details of the cruising that my friend visiting was up to with a guy he thought was hot, down below on the main floor.
After a while they decided to leave together, and my friend looked up at smiled at me as he left. I smiled back, and cast my eyes around the place to see what offered for myself. Right there beside me was Ken, and without missing a beat as soon as my eyes focused on him, he told me he liked my shirt. I was wearing a t-shirt I had made which had a hammer and sickle on the front of it. We talked about that for while, and then he bought me some beer, and after a while, invited me back to his place.
We took a cab from the rank in front of the bar, as it was near closing time, and it sped us across town to where he lived. It was a modest concrete apartment, and Ken lived on the fourteenth floor in a suite with a great view. The place was done in dark velour upholstered furniture, and had blue walls with lights sitting on the floor behind chairs and etc providing a quiet illumination.
Ken poured me a drink, some scotch, and we talked for a bit more. Even though I was a seasoned drinker in those days, my head began to reel at the effects of the liquors we had consumed, or perhaps it was their combination. There was an unspoken topic between us, and it took another round of drinks before Ken started talking about it. He asked me if I was looking for a master, and I told him I was. I didn't know how he could have known that, and it made a great impression on me. He spoke of his own experiences as a master, and the slaves he had owned at one point or another.
After we had talked for a bit, and it was established that I had little or no experience in bdsm, he told me that it would be better if I were to take off my clothes. I did so, and then sat down again. He told me to stand, and I rose a bit unsteadily. He told me to bend over, and then I felt his breath hot on my ass. He started to lick my ass, and this went on for some time. I was right into it, and then when he wanted to go to the bedroom I was into that as well.
We went in and lay on the bed, and then he played with my ass for a while. He told me in a soft voice that if things worked out with him, I could sleep at the foot of his bed, and that I wouldn't ever be allowed to wear clothing in the house. His fingers were never out of my ass for very long, and he fucked me several times, holding my legs in the air and looking into my face as he told me other things he would do to me. We lay there for a while with his cock up my ass, and he pushed it in and out a couple of times just to remind me it was there. It felt really good.
We fell asleep and when we woke up the next morning he brought me some coffee and asked if I would go on a trip with him. He had a job doing some work for a government agency which required him to travel into the next province. I had no particular obligations at that point in my life, and after a couple minutes of thought, and feeling my ass still throbbing from the fucking he gave me the night before, I agreed to go with him. He smiled, and I got a hard on.
The next day I met him with a bag packed and we were off. It was a long trip we were on, about a week or so, and in the long distances we shared the driving. I was enjoying myself, and looking over the countryside while listening to him talk about what he expected in a slave. He was big on total obedience, and then he wanted me to experience a sense of humiliation, since that really turned him on. I would never be allowed to have a bathroom door closed when he was around, and if he wanted he could be with me anywhere he chose, even in the most private of moments. If I ran away, he had better not catch me, but if I got away, I had better be ready not ever to come back to him.
When we got to the first stop on our trip, I dropped him off at where he was working a few blocks from the hotel, and then drove the car back with instructions to prepare my ass for his use on his return. I did so, and when he came back I was naked and laying with my ass in the air as he had wanted. He came right over to the bed, put on the rubber gloves I had laid out there as he had told me, and he gave me a complete anal examination and probing. I was in agony, but it was hot at the same time.
He loved to be inside my ass, and there wasn't much time when he wasn't putting some part of himself up inside me. My ass was a bit sore, but he forbade any complaining, and threatened to put a ball gag in my mouth if I mentioned it again. He told me that when my ass was tender, it was just a reminder that I was his slave. When we slept I was told to put his cock in my mouth, and to sleep with my head at his crotch level so that if he wanted me to suck him in the night it would be easier.
He did wake up and fuck my mouth and ass a few times that first night, and in the morning again. He took me into the bathroom and stood there watching me, which was truly humiliating. He didn't want me to experience any sense of independence, right from the first. I found this a bit hard to get used to, but that just turned him on all that much more.
The next day we arrived at another town. He spent the second night fucking me ruthlessly as he had the previous night, making me take his penis in my ass for half an hour without stopping the fucking. He timed it by the television which had a cable news screen on it with the time. I was almost in tears at the end of this time, but he wouldn't relent for a moment. He was growing bolder by the hour, and verbally more daring in what he said to me and told me to do.
I woke up the next morning with his cock in my mouth, and him kneeling on the edge of the bed so that he could wake me up by putting it in my mouth. His fingers were in my ass in a second, and again my hole was stretched to his will. He told me that there would be much more that night. We drove, mostly in silence now, and I was starting to have questions about where this was going. I was turned on by parts of what was happening, but others did nothing for me, and Ken wasn't interested in listening to my point of view.
That night he made good on his statement of the morning, and I was reduced to a shuddering wretch at his feet on the bathroom floor. He told me it was good for me to feel totally dependant on him. He told me that if I was to demonstrate any kind of independent action he would be ruthless with me, that I would have to take more punishment.
There was something hot about kneeling there before him on the floor. He took me back to the bed and fucked me again. Then I had to suck his cock, and that's how we went to sleep that night.
The next morning I awoke to him shoving his cock in my ass. He had been licking it before and this had formed a part of my dream, where I was back in the city I came from, and a hot guy who lived upstairs from my apartment building and who I had fantasized about was going to fuck me. The smile on my face pleased him, and he was a bit more gentle when he fucked me that morning, though he still made sure he took his full measure of satisfaction from it.
It so happened that he had two days of work in that town, and so I was left to my own devices that day. I decided to escape. I consulted the bus schedule and found that there was a bus leaving in half an hour. I packed my bag, and left the keys at the front desk. Walking down the street I found the bus station, which I had seen as we entered the town. I had left Ken a note saying I was going home, and that I was sorry things hadn't worked out with him. I knew he would be angry, but I was equally determined to get away from him.
I boarded the bus and it roared off onto the highway. It was a nine hour ride from where we were to get back home, and there was one stop on the way. I saw his car at every corner, and when in the bus station during the transfer I stayed wedged beside a locker, trying to keep out of sight for the entire cursed two hours. Never was I so relieved when I boarded the second bus and we pulled out of the station.
As we pulled back into the city limits at the end of the bus ride, I knew that I had taken a wrong turn on the road I had chosen to travel. I wanted to serve someone, the ideal One, as I thought of him, and I still believed I would find him. The search continued, and I never saw Ken again. All I knew was that he was not the One I was after.