I was on my way to a local coffee shop to meet a guy who had advertised on a leather web site with a personal ad:
Experienced dominant looking for HWP sub into lite BDSM. Am early 50's, 6', 185 lbs, sane safe. Looking for age 40-55 No beginners.
When I responded to his ad, he suggested we meet for coffee the next afternoon and explore the possibilities. He was easy to spot in the sparsely populated restaurant. Jim appeared to be as advertised, graying hair that had been blond in younger years, trim body with tanned, smooth chest observed under a short sleeve sport shirt, large hands. He had taken an early buyout from his employer and had been retired for almost a year. I am 52, 6', 190 lbs. Probably my best attribute is my chest - moderately hairy, defined and still hard pecs, and flat stomach although the ab muscles are no longer visible. I explained that I spent most of my time investing in the financial markets, working out of my house via the internet.
With the preliminary niceties covered, Jim took the initiative, "You a submissive?"
"Actually, I'm a switch. I enjoy either role and have lots of experience with both."
Jim came back, "I'm 100% dom. I get off on putting guys like you in your place. Why don't I propose our first scene and see if we have some common interests? I'm open to negotiation if there's a basis."
I responded, "OK." He sounded like he had a legal background.
"I like outdoor scenes. I suggest we drive up to the mountains. As you know, we can be up there in less than 30 minutes. We can drive up together or we can meet there, makes no difference. Then we hike into the forest, maybe 20-30 minutes, avoiding any trail, and find a small clearing. At that point, you will strip naked in front of me. I'll take a length of rope from my backpack and tie your hands in front of you. I'll throw the loose end over a high tree limb, stringing you up in the open with your hands over your head."
He wasn't shy, his eye contact was challenging. He was establishing dominance. I was starting to get hard.
Jim continued, " When you're secured, I'll take my belt off...this belt." He reached to his waist, unbuckled the belt and with some minor squirming in the booth, pulled it through the loops. He laid it on the table. I noticed that Jim had large hands. The belt was a well worn, wide, smooth black leather with a large brass loop buckle, very common. It's effect on me wasn't common however. I was hard and my mouth was getting dry. I reached for my water glass.
I had enough experience on the receiving end of belts to know that the one on the table due to its width would perform more as a paddle. With enough swats and force it would cause bruising that would appear four or five hours later and lasting maybe a week. The more immediate effect would be to warm the skin, with the impacted areas turning increasingly red and tender. The belt was too wide to cut the skin as a whip can. However, if he were to use the back side of the belt, the rougher unfinished leather surface would be much more abrasive to the skin and register more immediate pain. Longer term, the whippee will have trouble sitting or laying on his back for several days.
Either way, the `dancing' would start whenever the skin starts to warm. The submissive being whipped will start trying to avoid or lessen the force of the blows landing on the body. Strung up with the whole body exposed is a whole lot more fun that being tied to a rigid x-cross or tree trunk restricting the submissive's movement and physical reaction. A hard, flopping dick resulting from a body flinch after being struck with a whip is quite stimulating...for both parties. I always get a hard-on when I'm being whipped. I've never seen a dominant fail to get one either when he's whipping a naked man. It's programmed deep into our DNA from thousands of years of men tormenting men. That's the appeal of SM to me - connection to our primal instincts and emotions. Most people are scared to death of going there...and don't.
Enough SM philosophy, back to our meeting. Continuing very matter-of-factly with no emotion, Jim got to the good part, "I'm going to whip you...on the back and the ass...until you beg me to stop. At that point you'll have to agree to be my slave and address me after that as `Master'. With me so far?"
"Yes sir". Except my mouth was so dry, I was barely audible. I cleared my throat and replied with a very husky, but audible, "Yes sir". I was embarrassed, but excited. I kept returning my eyes to his belt laying obscenely on the table between us.
Jim continued, "After agreeing to slavery, I'll give you another lick or two or three so you'll be clear on who your boss is. Then, I'll release the rope from the tree, but leave your hands tied. I'll use it to lead you back to the car - totally naked, barefoot, struggling to keep up on the rough ground with your dick flopping as we walk. I want you to understand what your slavery means if we have further scenes. When we get close to the road, you'll be allowed to dress. During the whole scene, I'll be completely dressed, and there will be no explicit sex between us for the first scene anyway. You'll have to earn my cock over time. Interested?"
He knew the answer - unintended clues from my fidgeting while adjusting my underwear for an enlarged dick, from the dry mouth reply and from my continual breaking of eye contact. He had me. "Yes, sir."
"All right. Anything you want to add to the scene?"
My years of experience with SM prompted an immediate reply. I know what I like. "After I agree to be your slave, I would expect a Master to physically examine his new slave . Examine me as you would a horse, feel me up good. Slap me around a little to make sure I understand that my Master won't put up with any nonsense. Squeeze my balls for emphasis."
"You got it!" Jim was smiling, and we both knew that we had a good match of desires and abilities. Age compensates for all the time wasted in earlier years chasing unfulfilled fantasies.
He continued, "You married?"
"Nope. Single and happily gay. You?"
Jim replied, "I'm married and bisexual. My wife is well aware of my perversions. In fact, she's a natural submissive and it's made for a good marriage. Not to brag, but I'm fairly well endowed, thick with a even bigger mushroom head, low hangers. And a high sex drive. Cathy's drive is starting to fade somewhat, so she has no problem with me dicking men, lessens my demands on her. As long as my partners are disease free. So in future scenes, we can use our house, we don't have to sneak around. After years of participating in various SM groups, Cathy and I both understand the need to keep private matters private. Way down the road, we might do some scenes including Cathy, with both of you serving me, maybe over a weekend. That will depend on you. How's next Tuesday afternoon for you on our outdoor scene, weather permitting?"
My voice failed me again, "fi...fine." My mind was jumbled with desire overload, but my usual verbosity was lacking. We had our first scene on that following Tuesday. I performed my dance at the end of a rope. I felt both sides of his belt, but the rough side only on the lower portion of my butt cheeks, making sitting extremely painful for the next couple of days. I monitored the markets while standing, moving the computer monitor to the top of the filing cabinet so that it was closer to eye level.
Two days after the scene, Master showed up unannounced mid-morning at my front door. He simply said, "You got a few free minutes?"
"Yes Sir." And then quickly recovering, "Yes Master."
We walked into the living room. He said, "Strip. I want to check your back side."
My weekday routine is to get up, throw on a pair of old cutoffs and t-shirt, have breakfast and then move to my study and the markets. Close to noon, I shower and shave and usually go out to lunch. So I didn't have much to strip off. He moved me closer to the sliding glass door for better light. He ran his hands over my back, stopping at the various bruises. I was impressed. He cared. People have different physical reactions to a whipping because of different metabolisms and skin thickness. He told me to bend and grab my ankles.
Of course, this stretched the skin over the butt and caused slight discomfort from the bruises on the upper portion and the abraded, but fading red splotches on the lower half of my cheeks. But it provided him a better view and access. Master grabbed my balls and pulled them back behind my legs. That hand started massaging my nuts and working them lower in the sac. His other hand started a running examination over my cheeks. My breathing quickened. The ball massage stopped with that hand firmly gripping my sac. He wet a couple of fingers of his other hand with his mouth and then inserted the middle finger into my hole without warning. He worked it around, examining the texture and I'm sure feeling for warts or other afflictions. I didn't think there were any. Then the second finger went in. It took all of my concentration to accommodate the larger penetration. During the physical exam of his slave at the scene two days earlier, he had ignored my hole. He pulled the two digits out, gave my balls a cruel squeeze and slapped the bottom side of one cheek with the free hand. It hurt. Both actions hurt.
"Straighten up. Where can I wash my hands?"
I pointed to the kitchen. He went in there and I remained where I was, trying to recover my breathing. He quickly returned to the living room.
"Whenever you are standing or kneeling naked in front of me, you spread your legs so that your dick and balls hang free." I knew that, but I still wasn't in SM mental mode. I adjusted my stance and joined my hands behind me at the small of my back. Master asked if Sunday afternoon was free for our next scene. At his house. It was set.
Master walked over to me. Totally unexpected, he landed his fist squarely in my stomach, driving the breath out of my lungs. I collapsed onto the carpet. He turned and walked out without saying another word.
All of that was twelve years ago. It has been a rewarding relationship. Jim is a true dominant and everything he advertised at that coffee shop proved true. I became an exclusive submissive...nay, slave. My Master broke me to slavery. Jim fucks me regularly...as a slave with no concern for my sexual satisfaction during the act. It took months to earn that first fuck, and I cried after he pulled out of me... out of sheer happiness. He had teased me with his cock for months, I had licked and sucked it, but I wanted it in me. He taught me patience. Even today, I don't get fucked at every session. But when I do, I always know for several days afterwards that I've been fucked by a Master with a big dick... my Master.
Jim and I have traveled to the Folsom Street Fair in San Francisco twice. The first time he paraded me for several blocks naked except for the collar and attached leash that he held. Folsom is the second largest public event in California by attendance. Only the annual Rose Bowl parade has larger crowds. There were lots of younger guys far more buff than me showing skin, but it was exhilarating to be led naked through thousands of gawkers.
Our second visit several years later repeated the leash bit, but Jim hired a local ten year old black kid for $10 to walk behind me and, whenever I slowed, whack my butt with a supple switch harvested from a tree limb . The kid was into it for whatever reason and my butt soon evidenced the red stripes from the switch. Most of the walk was with me hard. The three of us attracted attention.
When Master stopped at a neighborhood store for sodas, he ordered me to kneel on the sidewalk with my knees spread wide and handed his end of the leash to the kid with instructions to switch my back if I moved. Naturally, the lines in the store were long and my knees quickly suffered from the hard concrete. Whenever I tried to shift the weight on my knees, I got whacked. That little kid was a sadist in the making. With me kneeling I was still taller than the kid. Several times he reached over and gave my left nipple a hard pinch. Where he got that I don't know. Maybe he observed others on Folsom Street earlier that Sunday. Whatever, the kid understood its significance as a symbol of his dominance and my submission...and he clearly liked the feeling. The kid is probably in he graduate program at de Sade University today.
I was trembling from the strain on my knees when Master returned with two sodas for him and the kid. If a prize had been given for creative humiliation, Master Jim would have won hands down. Later that afternoon, Jim cuffed my hands with my arms around a street light pole and whipped me with a short tail whip. That got us an invitation to a private dungeon party that night. I was sore for a week after we got home.
As the reader has probably figured out, I'm satisfied with my slavery and with my Master. I no longer even check the personals on the web.