Being Masterful

Ricky 2

I have jokingly written that men's cocks overrule their minds as though the process is purely sexual and chemical.  The fact is, men have a real emotional as well as a physical attachment to their cocks.  A man's opinion of himself rests on how he judges his prowess in several areas: job importance, wealth, strength, could he fight and win if challenged?

If he does not have an important job and struggles to meet the daily bills, that leaves only strength and ferociousness on the list.  In the modern world there is no opportunity for jousting and little opportunity for fighting.  So how can a man prove his manliness and have any self-esteem?  How can he show himself off?

If you set up the rules of such a challenge correctly you can have almost any man jumping naked through whatever hoops you choose; gay or straight, young or older.  In fact, the more masculine the man, the more he will push himself to perform.  I know this for a fact because I have been setting up such scenarios to test men all of my life.  I tell them the rules of the challenge are as follows: I will be judging their manliness by how much they can take - on a physical and psychological level.  Like a clockwork toy, I wind them up and turn them loose.

On Monday morning Ricky turned up for work.  He knew he was on probation, on trial, on approval.  I already had a couple of guys working for me in my new enterprise.  They were hired because I needed bodies in a hurry.  My plan was to replace them as I found better.  This morning I had sent them both on errands so the new boy and I could be alone.  I locked the front door and took Ricky up to my first floor office.  The building I had just begun to lease was a typical modern steel-clad shed and the office was still being fitted out as and when time permitted.  The walls were undecorated plasterboard; the floor bare chipboard.  So far it contained only my desk, phone, a set of shelves and a couple of chairs.

I knew Ricky would be all hyped up wondering what lay in store for his first day.  I was going to play on that fact.  He stood in the middle of the room looking at me and waited.

“Strip to your briefs!”  I wanted to get going straight away.  My guess was, so did he - except he had no idea the direction we would be taking.  

He stripped down and tossed his clothes on to a nearby chair.  He was wearing the leopard skin effect briefs again.  Either he had several pairs or else he had made a decision to wear them today.  Maybe it was a “me Tarzan, you Jane” thing in his mind.  That meant he had planned ahead - with the intention of looking his best when half naked.

My first steps with a new - straight - man are always the same, to introduce him to the routine.  I had him stand with his hands behind his head and legs spread wide.  He would now be feeling nervous and vulnerable, half expecting to be slapped in the balls at this point. This is the first thing that goes through every man's mind at this point.  Of course, I don't hit them, and this starts to build the bridge of trust between us.  They begin to relax a little and come to terms with their vulnerability and nakedness in my presence.

Next, I begin teaching them to follow orders.  At first they always begin hesitantly, and then with growing confidence, so they feel good about showing off what they can do.  I teach him the correct positions for 'at ease' and at 'attention'.  We go back and forth through the three positions: at ease, at attention and 'position one' - legs spread, arms behind head.

I say, “Good boy,” and he beams at me, lapping up the attention.

I tell him to keep a straight back, lock his knees and bend at the waist as far as he can.  The musculature of his firm arse tightens as he bends forwards, and because he is intent on keeping a straight back, this pushes his buttocks out and upward.  His legs are spread wide so his cheeks part, stretching the already thin fabric of his underpants making them translucent.  I can see the outline of  his anus clearly, and beneath, his massive balls straining in the thin cotton-polyester material.

At this point we both know he is going to finish up naked.  The only questions are: how long will it take and what happens then?  For me it is like savouring the unwrapping of a gift.  Yes, I want to see what's inside but the delight of the discovery is a one-time event and so should not be rushed.  Conversely (and perversely) Ricky is probably thinking something like, 'let's get this over with'.  I have known instances where my 'victim', his mind racing, over-anticipates an order.  For example young Chris in the Landrover* whom I decided deserved some punishment.  I said 'drop your pants', meaning his jeans.  He was expecting some ball squeezing so he pulled down his undies at the same time because he couldn't stand the suspense.  And then there was Anthony** who managed to misinterpret an order, pulled down my underpants and began to suck me off without being instructed to do so.  He was nervous, already naked on his knees, and so projecting in his thoughts what I might be about to say, decided to 'jump-the-gun' to get it over with.  You never know what they are going to do - and that is a major part of the fun.

Little by little, I now steer my lad in the direction I want.  After I order him to straighten up I then have him down on his knees; again legs spread wide and hands behind his head.  For me this is always a cock-stiffening milestone in the training programme.  The position is one of the principal physical demonstrations of submission: a man on his knees, his legs spread wide to display his crotch and his arms folded out of the way so they cannot be used in defence.  When I lift his chin to look me in the eye, he knows the score.  No words are necessary.  In fact words would dilute the significance of the moment. This position screams submission.  For him, there is no dodging around this fact.  By obeying me he has accepted the status quo and I have moved the game on a stage.

In a little while I will have him completely naked, he will again repeat this position of acquiescence, and I will squeeze from it another droplet of pleasure because then he will be trying hard to ignore the sensation of his balls dangling between his spread thighs.  Right now he is experiencing this unique sensation for the first time in his life; almost naked and kneeling before another man.  It flows over him, it flows through him.  This moment now becomes a part of who he is, never to be forgotten.  The next time I choose to order him to his knees he will anticipate this feeling.  He will know what is coming, and he will embrace this new routine.  If I manage to get this far with a man, experience tells me, he never turns back.  It becomes a kind of a deep guilty secret we share; another tight bond. No man would ever admit to another soul, 'this guy told me to strip and kneel at his feet, and I just went and did it'.

Next, I have Ricky do ten push-ups.  He has to count them off and say, 'one, Sir, two, Sir.'

It is a chance for him to release some of the built up tension he is feeling, but also to rehearse calling me 'Sir' ten times.  When complete, I order him to turn over on to his back and arch his whole body so only the top of his shoulders and his heels are touching the floor.  He makes a reasonable job of it.  I know he can do better. And I want to see him struggle.  In fact, at this point, he needs to be made to struggle so that he can demonstrate how well he can overcome and succeed, and so build his confidence.  I want him to feel good about impressing me.  This is also a first opportunity to introduce tactile control - to get him accustomed to me directing him by touch.

“Higher! You can do better.”

His legs are spread, he is forcing his crotch up into the air so I can study it.  I bend over him, reach under him, between his legs, spread my hand across his clenched backside, and pull it and him up higher. He reconfigures his arms and legs to get the required extra lift I am demanding from him.  From my point of view he is a living sculpture. I take a few moments to drink in the form of him, spread, straining, grunting and now beginning to shake at the exertion.  After a few minutes I order him down and he drops to the floor, breathing heavily.  I can tell he is secretly getting a kick from the showing off.  Good!

I give him a minute to recover before turning him back on his stomach. I have a guiding hand on his shoulder as I tell him to lie face down on the hard floor.  

“Spread your legs and grab your ankles!”

He does.

“Pull! Hard!

Tightly clasping his ankles, he drags his feet towards his shoulder blades, at the same time pulling his upper torso upwards off the floor so his body is curved into a human arc.  He's really trying to impress me now that he's getting the hang of my requirements.  Crouching behind him, I can see his crotch stretching as far as he can make it.  His blood pumping.  The only reason his skimpy briefs have not slipped from his hips is because the elastic has become caught on his bulging cock.  He will be very aware of this, so one more thing to play on his mind.  Once again I leave him to grunt and pant for a few minutes before releasing him.  He collapses flat onto the floor, the exertion beginning to wear him down.  A thin film of sweat covers his body.

“One your feet.”

He jumps up.

We are now comfortably at the stage where he will follow my orders blindly and is expecting more.

“Lose the briefs!”

With his right arm he scoops them down and in the same swing, steps out, flinging them on the chair with the rest of his clothes.  Frankly, I think he is relieved to be rid of them; threatening as they were to fall down at any moment, they were in danger of making him look stupid.  There is no more embarrassing position in life than standing in front of a guy with your undies round your ankles.  Though his cock is not erect, it is noticeably engorged and is already a good five inches long.  That was my plan.  I order him to begin doing star-jumps.  He thinks about that for a second, figuring out how to begin.  He jumps to a legs spread, arms wide position and then begins rhythmically springing from spread to attention.  I'm watching his face, as he is watching mine, looking for any clues.  The difference is, I can also see his balls bouncing up and down in their sack and his big cock swinging from side to side and up and down.  With this, and the blood pumping all around his body, it is not many seconds before his cock hardens some more.  He is fully aware of this extra weight at the front of his body but, of course, tries to ignore it. The more his cock fills with blood, the more violently it swings, bashing against his abdomen, which in turn, activates it more. I am putting him in a position whereby he is becoming sexually aroused, yet I am doing nothing to cause it.

Everything is going exactly to plan.  Even if I were not moving slowly out of a sense of caution, I would do so for the undeniable thrill of watching this man slip incrementally further into my control.  Though probably not yet fully hard - I don't know him well enough to judge - his 80 percent erection will be embarrassing him.  It will make him unsure of himself.  He will be hoping I do not make fun of him or scold him for being so presumptuous as to get horny in my presence.  More secrets, more bonding.  I am re-writing the landscape of what passes for normal and acceptable between men.

Time for the next stage.  I instruct him to assume 'position one'.   While standing spread before me I give him a few moments to let his breathing settle.  It is a good excuse to just stand and look at him. His long brown-blond hair is all over the place; his broad chest is rising and falling; a fine carpet of blond light brown hairs gather in density from his breast bone, down across his heaving stomach before becoming a curly thicket around the base of his cock.  From there the crown of curls gives way to a sparse scrub of hairs all down his long legs.  He is a tall lad, a couple of inches taller than me, and naturally well-muscled - no gym work - so he is quite wide without having any surplus fat.  The overall effect makes him look really powerful when naked, because it is not in any way contrived or posed.  In clothes he was a fit-looking guy; naked, it is no exaggeration to say, he qualifies as a 'super' man - and it is all 'real' and home-grown.  Unlike the models and actors who worked hard to get a good body, his attitude is 'oh, this old thing?  This is just how I am.'

I step over to him, reach out my right hand, and cradle his balls in my hand.  “A good start, so far, Ricky.  Well done.  However, this is only the start.”  His attention is now split between the sensation he is experiencing as my fingers slowly probe each of his testicles, and concentrating on what I am saying.  That is my intention.  Paying attention to my words prevents him from dwelling on what I am doing with his body.

“You have potential, but as far as I am concerned, you are raw material only.  I'm going to break you and remake you.  When I have you like a blank canvass I will re-skill you.  In fact it's not even re-skilling, because right now you don't actually have any skills. You can choose to leave if you don't like my methods, or you can stay and I can give you a future - something no one else around here can do.  You have to want this; you have to tell me you want it; and if you do, then you have to stay the course.  If you say 'yes' then are half-hearted, we are both wasting our time.”

I pause, while continuing to fondle his heavy balls, holding my hand so that I can wrap my fingers around them while still occasionally brushing against the underside of his now very erect cock with the base of my thumb as though it is not a deliberate action.

He still has said nothing, so I add, “I am going to take control of everything that defines you as a man.  I'm not going to take the trouble to make you powerful if I can't control you.  That's obvious isn't it.”

He nods slightly.

“So what's it to be, Ricky?  It's make your mind up time.  My way or the highway?”

He clears his throat.  “You're way.”

This is always a high anxiety process with a new man.  Who knows how he will react.  I have few failures but there is always 'the exception that proves the rule'.  I have just told him I intend to break him, and he has confirmed his acceptance. This moves the game to a whole new level. Now I can relax and enjoy the ride.  As I have said many times: this is not about sex.  Primarily this is about the thrill - the drug - that is domination.  There is a strong sexual element, of course, though, in a sense that is unavoidable.  That happens to be the way our species and gender is wired.  The sex is, if you will, the icing on the cake, and by keeping things in that order, the straight guys respond to the power-and-control element, while the sexual content kind of goes under their radar.  By the time they register it, they are hooked on the overall experience.  Partly they are high on the adrenaline rushes and partly they are in so deep it's easier to go along with my requirements than to begin voicing objections.  After a few training sessions they are fully complicit in the activities.  It has become our big secret.

Next chapter: I have now moved him beyond any point of reference whereby the conventions of normal behaviour apply.  He is sexually aroused and he has done it to himself.  He will be looking to me in the hope I will define for him what is expected.  As a strip away all his anchors to his old reality he feels lost and begins to cry.

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*Chris in Exploring The Dynamics Of Masculinity by Markpomoca, Chapter 2 - here on Gay Demon.

**Anthony in Cannabis and Control (www.enslaver.uk)