Exploring the dynamics of masculinity

Training Daniel

Breaking in the quintessential English boy.

In 1980 I was happily married and living in Wandsworth in London. Across the bridge, fashionable Fulham and Chelsea were just a 10 minute drive away. I had a great job which allowed me to jet all over Western Europe, the eastern countries still being firmly under Soviet rule. I had a day job while my young wife worked nights at a fashionable casino in St. James's. Weekdays I would arrive home as she was heading out to work. That left me at a loose end after dark. It was time to explore the newly created gay scene.

Even as recently as three years earlier, gay clubs were very discreet rooms on upper floors of buildings in back streets. In 1980 'Heaven', the gay mega-club, opened under the railway arches of Charing Cross Station. That changed everything. I spent many happy nights there, and at The Queen's Head pub in Chelsea - appropriately in Tryon Street.

In the five years I lived in London I had a long on-off affair with a tall blond Dutch lad who was attending Utrecht University and a brief fling with a young man who worked for the Queen at Buckingham Palace. He has since been knighted and as a 'Sir' is a pillar of the Establishment. I also had a short but memorable association with a young German conscript called Uwe who was based in Heidelberg. The great thing about London is that, at one time or another, everyone in the world passes through, and, once away from home, they let their hair down.

One of the most interesting and enjoyable relationships was with a young man called Daniel. Let me tell you about that, first.

I was giving an end-of-term lecture to a group of students on a Timber Technology course at a university in the Home Counties, west of London. This was one of my many duties as Technical Officer for the organisation I worked for. After an hour we all took a refreshment break during which the students, who had recently been on a field trip, were passing around some photographs they had taken. One of the pictures was attracting much laughter. I asked to see it. The young man who handed it to me, was the the subject in the photograph. He was smiling broadly at the camera and wearing only white briefs. He had a lovely smile and was boyishly good-looking. After the lecture I handed out some business cards, making sure to give one to the this young man.

Three months later he phoned me at the office. He was now trying to sell me life insurance. Having got a degree to placate his father, he was more interested in pursuing money than a career in anything technical. As he was trying to inveigle me into his plans, I thought it only fair I should return the favour.

I said something like, “if it is the pursuit of money and power that most interests you, maybe you would be interested in a secret organisation to which I belong.”

He was instantly hooked. I was less succinct than that, but he got the message. One evening, three days later, he called at my flat. Daniel was from Essex. The family were reasonably well off. However, his father was insisting the lad made something of himself. I suspect it was his father's influence which drove Daniel's obsession to be successful. I sat him down and spun my web. I made no promises and said nothing specific. I implied, inferred, suggested, a club of powerful and influential men existed. If he played his cards right, he might be considered for membership. He leaned forward in his chair, hanging on my every word. Of course, there would be hurdles to jump over. He would not be permitted to simply walk in.

“Go home and have a think for a couple of days,” I said. “The tests will be demanding. Be sure you want to get involved in all this.”

“I don't need to think about anything. I want in. What do I have to do?”

Daniel was dressed in his double-breasted light grey business suit. He was my height, slim, dark haired and slightly tanned. He was confident and articulate to the point of supreme arrogance. He was also good-looking beyond handsome, with a firm chiselled jaw and an ever-present winning smile on his face. In fact he was beautiful, flawless - and he knew it. Obviously, all of these qualities would make him difficult to handle. Conversely, his arrogance and boundless ambition were the buttons I was able to press to control him.

“Stand up,” I ordered. “Let me look at you.”

He jumped to his feet and stood in front of me. I could only have been two years older then him. My authority stemmed from his assumption I had already cracked the secret of success. As I have already mentioned, I knew there was only one way to handle this guy, be more arrogant than he was.

“Strip!” That was all I said. No explanation. No pleasantries. Either he would or he would not. I had already warned him of the difficult tests of stamina to follow. He had two simple choices now: pass up a one-in-lifetime-opportunity or comply. He took less than five seconds to think about it. Off came his smart double-breasted jacket, tie and shirt. He took off his shoes then, for some reason, he hesitated. I later asked him why.

He replied, “Momentarily I froze. I forgot what I was doing.”

Self-evidently his mind was racing. His facial expression was calm even though his mind was in overdrive. He thought he knew himself but that was only within pre-explored boundaries. Suddenly he had reached the point where he had to take off his pants in front of this stranger. His self confidence, which he had believed was limitless, now crashed up against an unknown barrier. He played with the shoelace on the shoe he held in his hand while he rebooted his self confidence, and in a second or two, decided to commit. He took off his socks and his suit trousers.

Back in control, his bravado kicked in. He pointed with both hands to his blue cotton briefs. “These as well?”

There is an interesting dynamic at this point. When you tell a guy to strip, his ego places him in a difficult position: if he tries to keep his underpants on he risks looking like a timid wimp; if he strips naked straight off - and maybe this was not the intention of the instruction - he feels he might cause offence or look stupid. This was Daniel's dilemma. I understood perfectly.

I replied, “Leave them on for the time being.”

Of course I wanted to see him naked, however, it was important I did not appear overly anxious to do so. Secondly, by saying “for the time being” I could prolong his angst. He would not be relaxed about being naked in front of a fully clothed stranger. He was smart enough to know getting naked, when I eventually chose to give the order, was only phase one of an unknown ordeal. I wanted him to worry about that. The issue is all about the workings of the male ego. Once you strip a man naked, if he looks reasonably fit, his next response is to show off, to pose. He will take the view, the deed is done, he might as well make a show of it. It is much more fun to keep him almost naked because the next stage, when his balls and dick will have to be exposed, is the thing that will play on his mind. I knew he will now be worrying about how he will be judged. Will his dick be considered under-sized, or worse still, is there a risk, in the excitement he will get an erection. Some guys do and it is not sexual excitement; it is the adrenaline surge.

I had Daniel do a few push ups and sit ups. Two reasons for this: it allowed him to show off and thus relax a little, and, more importantly it got him accustomed to following my orders. This is a road I am leading him down. After a while we will reach the point at which he has travelled so far along it, invested so much effort and emotional energy, he will not want to turn back - no matter where it leads.

He had been at work in the City all day so, being the hygiene freak I am, I led him down the narrow hallway to the bathroom, where I instructed him to lose the underpants. Obviously he could not get in the shower with them on. He knew that, therefore no resistance. I had him kneel down in the shower tray. I held the shower head in my right hand and soaped his shoulders and upper back with the other.

I explained to him how he must not be a prisoner of conventional western thinking. If he wished to be one of the masters-of-the-world he must embrace the ways of other cultures. I said it was perfectly common in many countries to be bathed by another man. By now I had washed his chest and stomach and reached the border of his thick black curly pubic hair. He knelt and waited. Mentally, I had him locked. Turning back or voicing any objection now would make him look weak. I could see by the distant look on his face he was concentrating on keeping calm. I took my time reaching down to his balls and then stroking up along his cock.

Daniel was not especially well endowed. Don't get me wrong, everything was in proportion. It was simply that he had a figure like the statute of David: boyish and slender. Slowly and gently I lathered his genitals, alternating between kneading his ball sack with my whole hand and then his individual balls between my fingertips. His still limp cock I cradled in the palm f my hand. I was not at all disappointed he was not getting hard because I liked the idea he was not enjoying this. He was merely enduring the trespass. This now gave me true power over him. His masculine ego demanded he take this treatment stoically like a man. He had imprisoned himself in this process so now I was his undisputed jailer. I had not coerced him; he had trapped himself.

If he was struggling with this, and there was no doubt he was, how would he react when I slipped my soapy finger between those firm arse cheeks? I was pushing my luck and I knew it. Daniel was absolutely heterosexual. It was obvious. Apart from the two hour lecture I delivered at his college, he had only known me for half an hour. And now, here he was, kneeling naked before me and about to get fingered where no one had touched him since his mother had changed his nappies.

I put down the shower head so I could use my right hand. I applied soap to it liberally and then slipped between those golden cheeks. My heart was pounding like crazy. He didn't flinch. To break the silence and impose my control some more I said, “Spread your legs.”

He did and I was able to swirl my hand between his soft hairless cheeks and with my forefinger rub against his bud. I had never before had the opportunity to stroke a man in such an intimate place and, for sure, he had never experienced anything like this. The only thing pounding harder than my heart was my cock. I tried not to let Daniel see the bulge in the front of my pants.

However much I was enjoying this, I could not find an excuse to prolong it any more. I told him to stand and wash his legs and feet. When he was out of the shower I towelled him down. Now his crotch was more accessible, I peeled back his foreskin. To my American friends let me explain the joys of a foreskin. Principally it maintains the sensitivity of the gland beneath. Moreover it represents a shield to an inner sanctum. This means, when you strip a straight man, you can enjoy seeing his nervousness, confusion, fear even. Then, you have the added pleasure of peeling his foreskin and watching him squirm and blush all the more as the next layer of intimate conquest takes place. A grown man has probably had his crotch grabbed a few times in life, if only in the rugby scrum, but there are very few scenarios where a straight man must endure having his foreskin peeled back by another man. This makes the event, the sensation and the emotion all the more powerful.

I took him back into the sitting room. Everything was going perfectly and I had no wish to rush things. Inexperienced though I was at the time, I sensed there was a necessary pace to things. This boy was so extraordinarily handsome I wanted more than a one night stand. I was experiencing an extreme sexual high whereas, in that respect, he was completely neutral. You could say, a blank canvass on which I might write. I needed a few plausible excuses to keep him naked so that I could introduce new angles to the game. I did not have a master plan. I was simply very pleased to have gotten this far with him.

I had him do some more sit ups, stand to attention, bend over. I knew if I simply started stroking him without some excuse or pretence I would lose the upper hand. It was important he did not realise how much I was enjoying this and that this whole exercise was simply for my pleasure. I had him kneeling on the carpet on all fours when the telephone rang. It was my wife calling from work. She had a question about something and needed my advice. She was in a happy playful mood but also, being at work, was in a hurry.

As soon as I picked up the handset she began talking. I listened, interjecting only with the words, “Yes,” then “continue”, then “I agree”, finally “do it!”

She said, “Right, good, OK, bye.” But Daniel heard none of that.

He heard only, “Yes, continue, I agree, do it.” No 'thank you for the call, bye bye'.

To him it sounded like I might be arranging someone's assassination, or something. He commented it was like the phone conversations he heard in films and on TV. The abruptness impressed him. English people never spoke like that. It fitted in perfectly with the aura of strangeness and mystery I had conjured up. I ordered him to crawl over and position himself so I could rest my feet on his back like a human foot stool. He knelt naked and submissive as I told him he must come back in a week. I set a time and a date. I had achieved more this evening than I could have imagined when he rang me to try and sell me life insurance a few days ago.

I knew he was hooked. If I took things forward carefully I could do much more with him, and to him. Simply bending him over and fucking his arse was not at all my aim. This was not about wham-bam-thank-you-man. I was aware that could be obtained via the gay pubs and clubs. I wasn't interested in basic animal-like fucking. I was beginning to realise my fetish was control; preferably the control and total domination of powerful and strong straight men.

Daniel confirmed he would return at the appointed day and hour. I now had a week to plan what I would do next with him. The planning was almost as exciting as the actual event.

Chapter 3: Daniel must be trained to cope with penetration in its various forms.