First Entrance

Never has a road of large detached Victorian houses looked so threatening. High walls and ornate gables suggested Gothic terrors within. The pavement was hard and unyielding and my legs stiff and stumbling. The path was not uneven but I was strangely un-coordinated. It was purely the product of mental turmoil. Sweet reason and timid caution warned me against going further but a primitive force compelled me forward. I checked the house numbers and realised with a leap of the heart that there were only six gates to go. I tried to calm myself into thinking that this was a simple visit to the doctor. Into his hands I must place myself and take my medicine however hard and spiteful it might taste. Perhaps I could walk on past the door and wander pathetically back into the anodyne World from which I was striving to escape. Suddenly, there was the number on the gate, the latch fastened, and mechanically I struggled to open it and walk up the path. Now I knew it was too late. Surely, as I turned to shut the gate I was being watched. I felt acutely self conscious and could sense eyes boring into my very body. From now on I was no longer myself, nor my own.

Even with dry mouth, shaky hands and leaden feet I still managed to climb the four steps to the imposing front door and rang the bell. An intercom which I had not noticed buzzed at me from the wall. “Yes?” it said imperiously. I blurted out my name, “Charles Lord,” as if that was all of me I had left. “Do you have an appointment?” I did. “Then go round the house to the surgery and ring on that door.” And a brief electronic burp indicated that I was dismissed. Going to the surgery at the side door seemed less daunting than being subjected to scrutiny on the other side of this Victorian portico.

A buzzer on the wall released the surgery door and I showed myself hesitantly into a small tiled waiting room, where there were two cane chairs and a table with elderly supplements. There were windows high on the walls and a notice which said, “Please be seated. Doctor will call you as soon as he is available.” I sat and swallowed trying to provoke saliva into my mouth. I could hear my heart beating in my temples and my breathing seemed to echo off the high walls of this small dark room. There was no other sound but the slow ticking of a clock on the wall. Two large wooden doors led out of the waiting room but there was no indication as to which one was going to open. I strained to hear footsteps, or voices or perhaps even screams from a distant dungeon. But there was nothing. I checked my watch. I was still four minutes early. Perhaps I could go and no-one need know I failed. Only me. I clenched my buttocks and sat up straight. Tuck in your belly and stay, you utter wimp, I ordered myself.

When a door handle rattled I nearly jumped with fright. A door opened inwards and light spilled into the dark room. A figure whom I could not see clearly said quietly,”Do come in.” The voice was deep, but sounded friendly and a little melodic. As I stood I felt slightly giddy as if I was floating, not in a dream but in a disembodied state as if I had lost control of my limbs and will power. And of course I had to some degree. Deep breath and I moved through the white surgery door into the sunshine and into my new life.

The figure was wearing an expensive pale charcoal light-weight suit. “Chas,” he said and extended his hand to shake mine warmly and firmly. He was taller than I had thought and more avuncular in manner. I could not help myself but look him over with a swift scrutiny as he gestured to a chair. Being put at my ease in such an easy manner was unexpected and threw me a little. I knew we both wanted something more than a simple sex scene between us but having an introductory discussion was unexpected. George seated himself comfortably in his desk chair, set side on to mine. “So, has it been a struggle to keep our appointment?”, he asked with a smile. I looked him frankly in the eyes and let my gaze slip nervously to his lap. “ God, yes,” I admitted suddenly flashing him a grin and feeling better about the shared honesty.

“I have been tossing and turning all night and…”I laughed, “not tossing in the sexual sense, but through nervous anticipation.”

“Glad you made it?” asked George

“Very much so. Although I am still terribly shaky about what I may have let myself in for.”

George then said, “Don't worry, you are in safe hands, I'm a doctor trust me. Just go behind the screen and start to take your clothes off I will be with you shortly..........” he gestured to a screened off area to one side. The clinical white and steel fittings indicated that a different stage was beginning that somehow screamed contradiction to George's friendly re-assuring manner. It was the word “start” which confused me slightly as I moved into the comparative privacy of the screened off area. I took off my jacket and tie and hung them on a hangar. Shoes kicked off and socks removed, I had started to unbutton my trousers when the screen was suddenly pulled back.

“Now let's take a look at you,” said George in a more businesslike voice. I hesitated for a moment. “Yes, go on. Down to your briefs.” He stood behind me and watched as I stripped for him and with reddening face turned and presented myself for inspection. “Hands at your side.” He said in a soft voice which was re-assuring but brooked no refusal. I stood stiffly to attention with my hands at my side and my boxers blatantly filling with my excitement. I don't know why. Was this really the man whose cock I would worship with my mouth wet with want? Was this really the man whose anus I would soon be licking in subservient adoration? My mind was in a state of giddy self disbelief and my body was tensed in readiness for his command. I tucked my tummy in and breathed in deeply. I lifted my head and yet looked at the floor and tried to control my breathing. My buttocks were clenched in honour of his inevitable inspection and my cock was filling my boxers in hope and submission.

He stood in front of me and I realised how much taller and bigger he was than me especially as I was barefoot. At first George subjected me to a simple medical examination. He checked my pulse, heart, neck, mouth, breathing and asked me questions about my medical history in a matter of fact way. He lingered as he pinched my arms and standing behind me rubbed my shoulders, clearly enjoying my discomfort. I wasn't sure whether I was being medically checked or looked over as meat but either way I revelled in the tension of his attentions. I inhaled his expensive and masculine cologne and responded with a racing pulse to the strength and grip of his hands and large fingers. He was a rower, I learned later.

From behind me he ordered me to touch my toes and I did. I was keen to be ramrod straight and my erection subsided with the simple realisation of my vulnerability. His hand traced my spinal column, checking each vertebra and then he slipped down my boxers so they pooled at my feet. I could not prevent an intake of breath. His hands traced to my coccyx and stopped. I was bracing myself for the inevitable slippage between my bum cheeks which I was clenching tightly in his honour. And he movced in front of me and said “stand” and shakily i stood. I was red in the face to be in front of him, nakedly exposed. "Turn your head to the left and cough" and i felt the slightest pressure on my balls from his hand placed underneath them "Now to the right and cough" and I did and his medical examination was purely that. Nonetheless i knew what more it could have and would be........and when he then said, "All seems to be in good order but now I will examine you internally. Put your shorts on the chair and hop up on the table. Kneel, face down arse high."

Nervously I did as instructed and placed my face forward on the cold leather top, I could feel my hands trembling as they lay by my head and the cool air on my anus now exposed to view. I heard the snap of latex gloves and involuntarily braced my bum.

“Put your left knee here,” he said guiding me to spread my legs and place my knee in a sort of groove, about which he put a Velcro strap to secure it in position. The same was achieved with the right knee which was also strapped in place. “Now reach forward and hold those handles at the end. And don't let go unless commanded to do so” I reached forward feeling my back arch higher and my arse protrude lewdly and vulnerably exposed.

A finger probed the skin around my anus, tapping and stroking the soft skin that surrounded it. “Have you ever been tested for AIDS?” he asked. “No”, I mumbled. “I will test you shortly,” came the reply. “You can see my test results. I carry out a test regularly. It is negative, of course. Have you ever had unprotected sex with a man?” “No.” I said again. “Turn your head to the left and place your right cheek on the top,” he ordered, his voice a shade more dictatorial in tone. I obeyed and tried to make myself comfortable, revelling in the attention I was receiving.

“Have you had unprotected sex with a woman?”

“Yes, sir,” I replied, feeling myself slipping into the role that I had craved for so long. He asked for details which I provided briefly, feeling both my mind and body were being peeled away down to the innermost intimacy of my self. His finger probed my anus firmly but gently gaining entry to the very portal of my arse. It was deliciously sensual and insistent but he did not force entry but relaxed and his finger left me, making me yearn for more. “Your arse has clearly been breached but you say that you have never been buggered by a man. Is that so?”

“Yes, sir,” I replied in all honesty.

“What have you had in your arse, then slave?” He was standing beside me, looking at my face and applying grease to his fingers. I admitted to inserting objects and he wanted to know their dimensions and frequency. With embarrassment I told him of the objects I had inserted. He listened carefully questioning me from time to time and instructing me to be precise and speak clearly rather than mumble my replies.

“When you inserted a bottle in your anus, did this excite you sexually?”

“Yes,sir.”

“Did the action involve any particular ritual or fantasy?”

“I don't understand ritual, Sir.”

“An act of self-preparation either mental or physical?”

“I always imagine I am under someone's control and have no right to resist. I assume the position and attitude of total submission as far as I can in the situation, on my own.”

“And you enjoy the act and the discomfort of being used anally?”

“Yes, sir.”

“So discomfort is certainly exciting but is pain as well? Are you a masochist?”

“I don't know Sir, but I think I have masochistic tendencies. I certainly want to discover how far I can submit to pain for my Master's pleasure.”

And I felt my slave cock swelling in confirmation of this sincerely but nervously expressed admission.

“We will investigate your pain thresholds in due course but for now I want to check your prostrate and how you respond to the examination, and then I will check your penis. So on your back….” And with that he released my knee restraints. “Turn over and lie on your back. Grasp the handles above your head and bring you knees up spread wide each side of your chest. “

I did as instructed bringing my knees up as high as I could but that was not enough. “Come on,” he insisted. “Wriggle your back down the table and present your anus for me properly. I expect your bum right up and accessible, well rounded and pointed at the ceiling.” For the first time he sounded a little impatient and I quickly did my best to obey, pushing my bottom up in a totally lewd and surrendered fashion.

“That's better,” he said simply. “Now let me know how this feels on a scale of 1 to 12. Anything less than four is still pleasurable but at five it begins to hurt. Six is discomfort for a few seconds. Seven is pain for 5-15 seconds; eight is pain for up to a minute and above that it makes you cry out and the effects may last for minutes, hours or days. I hope you won't know 10-12 today but you will at another time if you are worth training.”

I felt his index finger at my anus and since it was well greased it gained easy entry into my rectum. He stood beside me holding my right knee down in his left hand to part my buttocks. with his finger lodged well into my arse, he looked at me deep in the eyes. “Well?” he asked.

The feeling was entirely natural and the way he owned me at that point made my slave cock fill and stretch across my folded belly.

With embarrassment but submission in my eyes, I looked at him and said simply. “Three or four, Sir. There is no pain.”

“Good, I wouldn't have thought so from the state of your anus. It has been well stretched. This however might be different.”

And with that he pressed his finger deep into my rectum stretching my anus, probing into me towards my belly and folding his fingers against my parted and unresisting buttock cheeks. Suddenly there was a sharp throb of pain and my cock jerked in involuntary response to his intrusion. I grimaced and took control of myself as he withdrew his finger slightly. The throb subsided and I looked at him and said simply, “That was six, Sir” and hoped I did not seem a wimp for admitting it.

“Quite,” he commented. “your prostrate's fine. But tell me how this feels?” He withdrew his index finger and I felt what I imagined were two fingers starting their slippery dilation of my anus. They seemed huge and made their way inexorably past the outer sphincter stretching the ring of muscle mercilessly. “ Well?” he asked impatiently. “keep telling me how it feels.”

I pushed my bottom up for him and breathed deeply, “Five Sir” and I looked up at him and gushed, “it hurts a little but it feels so good to know you are inside me.”

“And now?” and he pushed steadily into my rectum making me wince as the inner ring of muscle was driven open to receive his relentless claiming of my slavery. All I could do was breathe out sharply as I braced myself against his forceful mastery of my mind and body, saying in a constricted voice, “Seven Sir, maybe eight,” but I pushed up my buttocks to make myself open to him, knowing that no pain was too much to bear to prove my willing surrender, indeed urging myself to push out my arse and suffering as far as I could bear. I held tightly to the handles above my head and arched my back, straining to lift and part my legs as the glow of thick intrusion made my belly weak and my legs tremble. I could feel the joints in his fingers distend the channel of my anus bruising it deeply. His fingers reached into my rectum and the comparative space of the inner chamber of my arse. There was a deep ache about the hardness of his hand and all I could say was “Sir, that's eight but I love it.” The feeling of love had never been so intense in my body and soul and I wanted to declare my devotion to him as he possessed me.

“Grip with your anus. Try and squeeze my fingers out. Press down and let me feel what you can do. Imagine you are working my cockshaft to orgasm. Work your arse on me and make me cum, slave.”

I rocked myself back and forth on his fingers gripping as tightly as I could. Although my body hurt, my mind overruled the pain which seemed to melt away in my efforts. I knew with joy that this was the true expression of my submission. When pain becomes a measure of one's servitude it is orgiastic pleasure to give one's strength in the tumult of suffering. I bucked my arse onto his fingers and squeezed with all my dwindling energy, tightening my sphincter round his beloved hold on my slave channel. “Master,” I whispered in sweet agony. “I give my arse to you, I want to give all of me to you…..” and I yearned to express in my muttered words and more acutely in my fevered lust filled writhings the love and giving of my mind and body.

I felt his fingers withdraw and felt relieved and deserted yet still throbbing in my desire to be more conquered and hurt by them. I craved the pain and intimacy of his attention, looking up at him beseechingly. “I want to examine your slave cock,” he said with cold control. And as I watched him wipe his well greased fingers on a tissue I knew I was wholly subordinated to his control of my pleasure and pain. I relaxed my stretched thighs and felt my distended anus pulse in response to his use of me. My slave cock was full and stretched across my belly and so eager for his touch and I knew it could not be long before it burst in honour bound surrender to him.

With his left hand he ran his fingers up the length of it, lifting the shaft from my belly. “Lower your legs,” he said simply, releasing his grip and as I lowered my legs so the shaft sprang up and stood out proudly to salute him. I was no longer ashamed of my crude display of arousal but I was suddenly embarrassed by the traces of pre-cum, stringing from my stomach as I looked down at it. I muttered some apology and he remarked that this was natural. “When I activate your prostrate it would be abnormal if you didn't ejaculate. I could make you spurt by pressing more inside your rectum, as I might do when I cock fuck your arse.” He added in a matter of fact voice which made my cock jerk in anticipation.

“Now let's look at your prepuce,” and he raised my cock from my belly and peeled back the vestiges of circumcised foreskin to examine the cock head. He thumbed my cock slit and prised it slightly open. His masterful grip was so exciting that my cock was powerfully erect and all the while I was straining not to lose control. I breathed hard and he looked at me smiling, “Ready to burst for me, are you?” and I nodded my head. “Well keep yourself under control until I say you can.” His right hand weighed my testicles and then fondled them firmly. The slight pain helped me bring myself tightly under control aware of what he could do but without fear that he would be violent to me. “Have you ever undergone CBT?” he asked and I had to reflect for a moment as to what he meant. “No, sir,” I replied tensely, realising to what he referred. “I like my slaves pouched in leather from time to time. It excites you to feel skin on your skin and a constricting pouch raises libido and thus the speed of your jerk when you are released. Just think how tightly packed you would be if we put all this in a 3 inch pouch,” and he gripped me and ran his hand firmly up the length of my shaft, making me buck my arse nearly off the bench as he did so. “But don't worry, you can still ejaculate in a pouch. You don't have to be erect to have orgasm. And when you cum in your pouch, it is less messy and easier for you to lick up afterwards.” He let go of my slave cock and looked down as it sprang back into place reaching up across my belly.

“It's a nice cock and clean and just above average length. Show me if you can squeeze it and make it pulse for me. ” And I squeezed my abdomen and tried to make my glans swell for him. Although I went red in the face the cock did not grow very much, “Yes,” he declared, “as with your arse, you need some training but you have potential.” And he moved away for a moment before returning with a thin whippy 3 foot crop in his now ungloved hands. “Ever been whipped with one of these?” I shook my head. “I am going to test your pain threshold with this, just to take a preliminary check.” His voice was so detached and matter of fact that somehow it did not arouse anxiety. Keep me informed which level you reach with each stroke.”

Before I had had time to brace myself he flicked the crop over my nipples. It stung and shocked me but did not hurt. Nonetheless I flinched with fear and began to comprehend the reality of the test. He paused and looked at me enquiringly with impatience in his expression, “three” I whistled out of clenched teeth. Again he flicked my tits in almost the same place and it stung sharply but strangely arousingly. “Five,” as I caught my breath. He moved his towards my thighs. “Spread your legs,” he ordered and I parted my legs wide making my cock strain upwards and rampantly displaying my submissive arousal, twitching lest it should be the target for his testing. A flick to the right thigh made a painful stripe across the soft flesh. I writhed in response, hanging on to the handles with all my strength to keep my surrendered posture although I wanted desperately to protect myself. “Five,” I whimpered although I nearly howled from the shock more than the pain. I watched his arm rise and shut my eyes as a six seared my left thigh sharply. For a moment my cock slackened under the glow of agony as the pain washed through my weakening body. And he gripped the glans in fingers of his left hand and asked, “Ever had your cock whipped?”
”No, sir,” I muttered softly and braced myself in abject horror. “Keep your eyes open and look me in the face all the time so I can see the hurt in your eyes.” My knees rose independently in a pathetic attempt to protect myself and he told me firmly to put them down. I did so, presenting my body, muscles tight and flat surrendered for his use. Perversely my cock filled in his firm grasp and stood up throbbing as if to beg for punishment for its flagrant excitement. I strove to look at him as he angled his arm and flicked the rampant cock shaft. The pain was not as acute as I feared but I shouted, “six,” from my pit of fright. “That was fear not pain,” he observed accurately and slid his hand down over my foreskin to expose my purple shining glans on to which he applied the crop with a stinging rebuke. I bucked under the mind swirling mixture of fear and intense excitement tossed in the maelstrom of the meeting tides of pain and pleasure. As the initial stinging ebbed and the following bruising hurt burned into me I admitted “Five or six, Master,” but did not know really which level I was at but did know I was totally and willingly surrendering to the hands of a Master craftsman who was making me hugely excited. I looked earnestly into his eyes with adoration and submission supercharged by the straining response in my pulsing cock. “I am so close to cumming, Sir, so really that is only four,” I declared in short breaths.

“Present your arse for whipping, slave,” he ordered stepping away from me. “On your knees, arse high and rounded.” He put my knees in the restraints and ratcheted them forward so my arse was projected back, split and exposed for his attention. The cool air on my hot, dilated anus told me I was crudely spread and vulnerable for him and I was aroused by the way I was available to him.

“I will try to keep the stripes within the 2 – 6 range but now tell me about this.” And he cut me sharply across the meat of my buttocks with a searing swish of the crop that made me tremble in pain for a full minute of agony. I don't know if I emitted a howl but for a while I thought I would weep tears as I struggled to show I could take more, whimpering “Seven, I think, Master,” as I regained my composure. A three and a four to my thighs were a solace but set my mind racing to prove I was not a wimp who could not take a whipping. A five to the join between arse and thighs made me wince and writhe again and I braced myself, arching my back and thrusting out my arse to show my resolve and determination to be a good and worthy slave. Master set a rising triple of stripes across my buttocks to which I responded with a four, five and six as I felt the waves of hot pain start to sap my energy and ability to keep quiet and still. For a moment he relented as I coped with the tumult of hurt spreading through my body and into my belly and I was conscious that my cock was dwindling in lust and pride. What he was looking at I don't know, but suddenly I was aware that he was stroking my shoulders with his left hand and fondling the back of my head as I pressed my sobbing face into the couch. “Just two more,” he confided. One to the crack of my arse setting my anus into spasms of sexual agony which made me want to feel him there again. Then the last stripe right across the middle of my cheeks with a venom that made me howl and cry out “Seven!” as I slumped forward in the glow of achievement and agony. I felt my arse was zebraed in welts but in reality it was lightly striped with streaks of fire in intense thin lines, which he stroked in appreciation with a tender hand.

He released my knees from their restraints and told me to get down fomr the examination couch. Standing in front of me, so calmly and powerfully self-controlled with the crop still in his right hand, I felt in awe of his presence and command of me. Naked, abject and subdued with tears in my eyes and so desperately wanting to abase myself further, I looked up to his eyes for approval and acceptance. I could see the glint of lust in his eyes and I wanted so wildly to please him that I was about to kneel before him and offer my mouth in service. He leant forward and taking my head in his two hands, he kissed my tear wet eyes and then briefly my mouth strongly and possessively, but too quickly for me to respond as I wanted in love. Nonetheless, the expression of affection was overwhelming and I wanted to linger and speak my adoration for him. “Kneel,” he said coldly, “hands behind your back.” And I assumed the submissive position at his feet.

“You have promise, slave,” he spoke to me wonderfully. “You need much training, above all orally and anally. You show courage and stamina and I think you have the will power to learn obedience.” I muttered, “Yes, Sir” with all my want and conviction. “I don't want to break you physically but I will bend your spirit and make you slave to me with this,” and he whipped me spitefully across the shoulders with the crop that made me flinch and know he had the power to do so. “Very soon, I will thrash you into submission with this and thereafter regularly remind you of your abject slavery to me. Pay homage to the whip with your lips.” And he thrust the thin pain giver to my mouth where I licked its length and spiteful mastery of me in eager and frightening respect. He stood back, “Suck the fingers which have already breached you and probed your slave hole.” And he pushed the two fingers that had so recently distended the depths of my rectum deep into my mouth as I gulped on the length and strength of them. “Do you accept my gift of slavery to you?” “Yes, Sir, “ I breathed in delight and sincerity. “Kiss my feet and repeat after me,” amd I bent and kissed his shoes with wet kisses and working tongue, tasting the polished leather in my mouth, repeating after him between breaths, “I willingly and adoringly submit to you my master, giving you all that I am in my naked surrender to your power and command as your cock slave and worthless servant. Train me, I beg, with whip and correction to be your total slave in mind and body and soul.” Now kiss your Lord cock bulging in my trousers,” and I did rising on my knees to do so, inhaling the scent of his manhood through the material and feeling the strength of it tight in his groin. I applied dry lips to the bulge and detected his firm balls and rising shaft in awe and wanting, hoping that I could serve it in its real live flesh. “With this cock, I shall break your face and arse to my pleasure but that is for another day if it pleases me. Now prostrate yourself legs in a star with hands still clenched behind your back and tell me your name.” and face down I spread myself on the cold floor and said simply “I am your slave and nothing more Sir, proud and honoured to be just that.” “Indeed, and in your slavery you will know the freedom of expressing your total submission to your master.”

“Now kneel up and at my feet you will jerk yourself in your master's honour.” And I knelt up and felt my cock rise as I did. “you only come under my orders now slave. You give me everything when you are my slave. You have no rights over any part of your body any more not even your manhood which you give to me, I possess every part of your body inside and out, your soul and mind, every orifice and above all your cum. When you are ordered to give your cum to your master you hold your balls in your left hand, spread your legs wide and jerk quickly with your right hand, asking permission before you spurt. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” I mumbled in wanton tension as I knelt before him. My hands trembled on my cock and balls waiting for the command to begin. “Stretch the slave cock in your right hand and pull your slave balls down with the left. Fist it properly, slave. Grip it tight whether it hurts or not and pump yourself quick and hard. I am generous with my slaves but not prepared to wait for the gift of your cum when I order you to jerk before me. Now pump it hard and let me see you revel in the kindness which I bestow on you.”

I fisted hard and long, feeling the lust rise swiftly in me bursting from my belly although the shaft and knob were sore from the whip cuts. I dared show no delicacy or hesitancy in my giving and began involuntarily to growl under my breath.

“Twenty strokes are enough for a slave like you. Pump it as if your life depends on it as indeed it does. There is nothing else you can do to please me but make grovelling gift of your cum lust.” I knew he was watching me closely and looked up at him in slavish devotion, my grimacing face betraying my abject subjection to my master. “Does it hurt?”

“A little, Sir, where it is sore from the whip.” I growled.

“Good, but don't you heed any discomfort in your surge to please me, slave, and don't you cum without permission either. When you are brimming tell me. ” And suddenly I was, the flood nearly overwhelming me in my craving to please him.

“Sir, please can I have permission to cum,” I blurted feeling the juice almost rising from my balls.

“ Put your fist under the glans and pull the head up for my approval, slave but don't you dare cum until ordered.”

“Yes Sir,” I grunted, struggling to control myself, tightening my belly as my hands stretched the shaft to force the cock head up for his scrutiny and command.

“Five more pulls,” he ordered “and count them out loud.” I quivered in desperation. Tightening every muscle of my body, I wanked my slave cock firmly, once, twice, three times and groaned. I held my breath knowing that one more stroke would make me burst. The sense that I was so utterly under his control aroused me wildly, knowing that this most personal of freedoms I was surrendering to him, my Master. “After five, you may spurt,” he ordered coldly. “The first in the air and the rest onto my shoes and the floor at my feet, but don't you dare wank slave spurt onto my trousers.”

I bent my head and breathing hard, I pulled twice more but only just in time as my head spun and the cum seemed to erupt from the very pit of my belly, shouting, “Four, FIVE,” in an agony of furious release. My cock head throbbed violently from the pent up heat of release centred on the switch mark on its purple swollen flesh. I have never felt the semen pulse so thickly through the cock slit in such glorious release. There was no pain, but the feeling was more intense than I have ever experienced and there was overwhelming and magnificent freedom. After the first jet plumed hugely into the air, I bent forward eagerly to show obedience and make my body offered to him. I crouched and jetted big, once, twice more and then many times more in feebler jerks of slave cum on his shoes which he pushed out for me to anoint. Even in the heat of orgasm, I was bounden to serve him and I shuffled forward on my knees and aimed my dribble inaccurately onto the floor and to one side then the other trying to reach his shoes. All I was aware of was my total surrender, slumped between his legs crouched and naked and whimpering with gratitude and devotion. I was suddenly deeply aware of all the given parts of my body from the pulsing of my bruised anus to the pain lines on my chest, thighs, slave cock and striped buttocks. For a moment he let me relax and catch my breath and all I could feel was overwhelming love and happiness at being so honoured.

He stood back removing himself from my bodily contact with his legs. “Lick,” He ordered simply and switched me twice across my back, the strokes reaching down across my waist onto my buttocks one to left and one to right. The pain was not intense but it cut through my reverie of gratification and snapped me back into the reality of my slavery. I whimpered and knew my place immediately. “Cover your face with slave spurt from the floor and make sure you collect all of it.” And I pressed my face to the floor and for the first time in my life licked slave cum into my mouth. Bitter, smelling lightly of bleach, the cum was not as nasty as I feared and I was willing and energetic in my obedience. After a short while of licking the floor, he told me to kneel up and look at him. I knelt up for his inspection. “You should put more on your face in future. I like to see my slaves humiliated and displaying their cum spurt in their eyes and hair. Now on your belly, slave, legs starred and hands behind your back and lick my shoes until they shine.”

I prostrated myself and licked in earnest joy to please him. I shuffled forward on my belly like an animal and stretched my tongue out until it ached, straining to reach every part on top and side and even under the sole as he lifted his shoes one at a time for me to clean them totally. I made grunting noises and slurped as loud as I could to show him my eagerness for obedience. After several long minutes, he ordered me to kneel and looked down at me. I knelt humble and red faced, looking down and waited.

“You have promise, slave. I will take the blood test and one from your urethra to be on the safe side. Sit on the edge of the couch.” His knowledgeable sure way of taking a blood sample taken from my arm was easy if naturally a little painful. The swab from the tip of my penis was uncomfortable and embarrassing. Sitting naked in front of him, legs apart as he approached with a Q-tip in his hand caused apprehension. I noticed the sticky residue of cum streaked freshly on my chest, stomach, balls and cock. When he said, “I want a sample of your slave spurt so I will push this slightly down into your urethra. Hands behind your back.” And I knew I was no longer a patient but his slave being examined and that aroused me at once. My cock swelled semi-erect even before he grasped it and once it was in his strong fist, the fingers prising open my cock slit, I knew I did not have a penis any more but a slave cock. It rose wantonly and turgid in his grip and did not flinch when he inserted the tip of the bud and pushed it firmly and painfully down into my cock until it nearly disappeared. I noted the slash of deeper purple on the cock head from where he had switched me and he looked at it as well. “That will bruise and cause you some discomfort for a few days, as will the switch cut on the shaft.” he said bending my slave cock to look more closely. “But I didn't break the skin and there should be no problems. I don't cause long term damage to my slaves but call me if it appears to be hurting abnormally. It's when the skin is broken that you sometimes might get infection. Wash your switch cuts with antiseptic soap which I will give you and always take scrupulous care with hygiene. There are a few rules for you to obey at all times from now on.” He spoke in measured precise terms as he put the swab into a bottle and labelled it. The calm clear manner in which he gave me instructions re-assured me and kindled my trust in him further.

“You will not wank or have any sort of anal play unless ordered. Above all you will have no other sexual partners without my permission. When you pee, you will crouch. Slaves do not pee like men, standing up, they lower their pants and crouch. Understood?” I nodded and under his gaze added, “Yes, Sir.” “When you shit you will wash yourself with antiseptic soap. You will not use paper as it is abrasive. You will always keep your slave hole immaculate but you will not give yourself enemas, I will perform that to sure it is done safely and properly. Diet should be plenty of ruffage, bran, cereal and the like, I can give you a diet sheet; plenty of vegetables and fruit, at least five portions a day. As a meat eater, you will eat a maximum of 4 oz of meat twice a week and fish twice a week. No curries or spiced food at all and sparingly with salt. Drink at least 4 litres of water a day and only one cup of coffee and one of tea at the most, without sugar and very little milk. Now dress but leave those shorts for me to burn. I will supply you with a pouch next time you are summoned but in the meantime no undergarments at all.”

While I dressed, he added, “I will choose your wardrobe and in due course, if I think it is appropriate, I will supply you with trousers which have a rear opening but no fly. They will be very discreet but you will be very self conscious in them at first. Masters and slaves will recognise them as slave trousers for they have a zip at the back, but for the most part people will think they just have a prominent seam. Trousers like that enable me to gain access wherever we are and they help you to remember what you are and prevent you from taking a standing pee. Come before me now.” And I walked over to stand in front of his desk. “You please me and I think you have promise as a slave. There is still a long way to go before I am certain I will take you on and in what capacity I may enslave you but you have begun well. Above all you show eagerness and obedience which are good qualities. I will call you in a day or two to find out how you are and summon you for further training. You may go now.” I turned to go with a mumbled expression of thanks and he said, “No. Slaves kneel and make obeisance when they are given leave to depart wherever they are, in private or public, dressed or naked. You kneel before me and say ‘Thank you master for your time and use of me' and then you place your forehead on the ground, hands beside your head and wait for dismissal.” I did as instructed and uttered the words with sincere devotion. Once crouched with my forehead on the ground I could not help but imagine how I would do this in the street if the occasion arose. As if reading my thoughts he said, “In Arab countries this might not excite attention but in England , you might be embarrassed by doing this at first. Tant pis! You will get used to it as part of your training. Go.”

And I left his presence, glancing to see him already involved in writing something on a pad apparently unmoved by my departure.

The street was giddy with movement again as I walked shaking up to the Tube Station. If anything the pavement was as unsteady beneath my trembling feet as when I had arrived. My mind was filled with joy not dread even if apprehension made my heart beat faster.