Diary of a Slave
My master commands me to reveal to the world the depths of my humiliation. At first he allows me to tell you only my first name: Brian but if I misbehave or in any way fail to satisfy him then he might make me reveal my full name and address so that my humiliation will be total. These pages will appear as and when he thinks fit.
The Beginning
I had had sex with many guys but somehow it never satisfied me. I always wanted them to use me for their pleasure but never really wanted to cum myself. The best sex I had was with a guy who would kneel over me, pinning my shoulders to the ground and face fuck me for hours and then shoot all over my face. Once done he would scoop his cum off my face and order me to lick it form his fingers. He would then sit naked in a chair and make me toss myself off over his feet. All the time he would call me names - "filthy little cocksucker", "pervert" and so on. Pretty soon I would cum and the he would make me lick it all off his feet. Sometimes he would give me a beer - in a dog bowl. These episodes were always over far too soon for me and I fantasised about what else could happen. He eventually moved away and I never found anyone else who would do anything like this.
You can imagine how excited I became when I found a magazine full of stories of slavery and humiliation, pictures of men in chains and being totally subjugated by other men. Sometimes one man tied to a rack and several other men working on him - group sex had never occurred to me! At the back of the magazine were advertisements: masters looking for slaves and slaves looking for masters. This one magazine gave me hours of wanking material. At first it was the pictures and then the stories and eventually the adverts. I began to dream of being a slave and being totally humiliated by another man or men. Being naked and ordered to wank in front of a whole roomful of men who would jeer and make fun of me. (My master insists that I tell you that with my puny cock its easy to make fun of me when naked.). Eventually I plucked up courage to place an advert:
"Novice slave seeks master who will teach him how to obey."
Just writing it gave me a hard-on and I rushed to the post everyday to see if there were any replies. The days became weeks and I began to feel that I was going to get no replies and then one day there was a single envelope. I opened it and read the single sentence with shaking hands:
"Slave - ring your new master - 0171 XXX XXXX."
As much as I was excited I was afraid and I sat clutching the letter until 10 o'clock at night and then I knew that I had to phone. I dialled the number and waited. After what seemed an age a man answered. What should I say! I stammered and spluttered. At last I managed the words:
"I had a note from you this morning. To ring you. I want to be er I want to be a um slave."
"Well", the reply came, "if you received the note this morning and are only just replying that is not very obedient for a slave, is it?"
"No, I suppose it isn't." I giggled nervously.
"No, what?", was snapped back at me.
I instantly knew what was required and I knew I wanted it too.
"Sir, No, Sir!"
"That's better. Now are you wearing clothes?"
"Sir, Yes, Sir!"
"Well you shouldn't be. If you are to be my slave you are to be naked whenever possible and sometimes when it is not possible. Strip now and bring a saucer to the phone."
I through my clothes off and run to the kitchen for a saucer and brought it to the phone. My cock was harder than I could ever remember and I felt wonderful.
"Sir, I'm naked, Sir, and I have a saucer."
"Right, you will open your curtains, place the saucer on the windowsill and with one hand pinch a nipple really hard and with the other hand toss yourself off onto the saucer. This you will do in one minute or you will never hear from me again as you will have failed your first test of obedience. You will then bring the saucer back to the phone."
"But Sir, people might see me. I could be arrested!"
"The minute is ticking away."
Now I should explain that I am a school teacher and that any sex scandal would end my career and be plastered over the local newspapers. A fact that my master was to use heavily in the future. But I did not want to loose this opportunity. I knew that this was what I had been looking for four years. I ran to the window, pulled the curtains and prayed for the first time in years that there would be no one passing by. I squeezed a nipple and grabbed my cock and started beating it furiously and in just a few strokes I shot a huge load onto the saucer. I ran back to the phone still not knowing if anyone had seen me.
"I've done what you commanded, Sir."
"Good, now clean your filthy cum from the saucer with your dirty little cocklicking tongue."
I willingly obeyed. My tongue hungrily seeking every drop of cum on the saucer.
"It's clean, Sir!"
"Excellent! You may just make a slave - with lots of training. You will meet me tomorrow night at seven at Piccadilly underground station. You will wear tight blue running shorts and a white T-shirt. Nothing on your feet. You will not touch your cock before then. You will never touch it again."
The phone went down. How could I do this? How could I get to Piccadilly dressed as he said? People would stare at me. Everyone would know I was a pervert. My cock was rock hard again and my hand went towards it and stopped. I knew that touching it was more than I dare do and it became even harder.
I decided to have a shower and washed from head to toe apart from cock. How could I wash it without touching it? It was still very hard and even though I am uncut I could wash most of it with the shower head. I wondered if I could use a sponge - I would have to check tomorrow. I realised that I was very quickly being drawn in to a new life. It seemed so natural. I made myself a drink - still naked - and went to bed. I couldn't sleep. My cock was still rock hard as it had been for hours now. I began to wonder if I was crazy letting a strange man who I had never met have such an effect on me and I was planning to go with him tomorrow. To where? What would he do? He might be a murderer. Little did I fully realise that he would transform my life in the most amazing way and that I would be happier than I had ever been before. (My master is touched by this and says he may even toss me off later if I continue to behave).
The next day I went to work as usual but could hardly concentrate on teaching the little brats. At 3 o'clock I rushed off into town and bought some blue shorts. I normally wear 32" so I bought those but also a 30" pair as well. After all he said they should be tight.
I went home and took off my suit. I started to pull my jeans on but then remembered I was supposed to be naked whenever possible (what did he mean sometimes even when it wasn't possible?). I cooked some tea and looked at the television news. I quite enjoyed being naked at any time but it was wonderful knowing that I was naked because another man demanded it. I squeezed a nipple and remembered the previous night. I felt my whole body blush as I wondered if anyone had seen me tossing myself off so enthusiastically in the window.
My mind then turned to the problem of getting to Piccadilly. It had been troubling me all day. I couldn't travel on the Underground in just the shorts and T-shirt. Eventually I hit on the idea of putting a track suit over the top and then leaving it in left luggage at Piccadilly station - if they had a left luggage office.
It came close to six and I put on the 32" waist shorts. Normally they would have been fine but they certainly weren't tight. I tried the others. They were tight but were they tight enough? At least I would not get too many stange looks in them. I pulled on a white T-shirt. Perhaps I would pass as a jogger. But in an Underground station? I pulled on a tracksuit and trainers and ran to the local station. Pretty soon I was at Piccadilly and the track suit had not attracted attention. Why should it? I went to the Gents and in a cubicle took off the track suit and trainers and put them in a bag. Blind panic suddenly took over as I thought of walking out of the toilet. For a moment I thought of going home. Somehow I couldn't. I knew I had to go on. I opened the door and tried to just stroll out as confidently as I could. I don't know if anyone was looking at me because I certainly wasn't looking at them. I tried to find a left luggage office but couldn't. Time was getting on. All I could do was to abandon my bag in a bin and walk away. Somehow now I felt even more ridiculous - without even something in a bag to put on if I needed. I wandered round the station and noticed that I was getting some odd looks. Perhaps the shorts were tighter than I thought. I decided to stand still and lent against a wall. It was nearly seven. I waited for a couple of minutes and an elderly man came up to me and asked if I had the time. Was it him? I looked at my wrist but realised that I was not wearing a watch. He started chatting and then suddenly asked if I would like to go somewhere - he could pay me well. I realised that he thought I was a rent boy and told him to piss off. So that is what I looked like - a male prostitute. It was ten past seven. Was he coming? A policemen sauntered by carefully watching me. I decided to make the first approach and asked him the time - even though I could see a clock in the ticket office. As he stared to speak a young businessman rushed up:
"I'm sorry. I got held up. I knew it was a mistake meeting you here after your jog. Mother will be really worried where we have got to. Come on we better hurry."
His voice was familiar and I ran after him. But he was only about 23 and I am 40. I somehow expected him to be older than me. We left the station and went through Leicester Square towards Charring Cross Road. He stopped and snapped at me:
"Just follow me. Don't catch me up. Don't talk to me. If I go in a shop or a bar you wait outside opposite the door with your hands behind you."
He went on and I trailed behind watching where my naked feet trod and keeping behind him. I felt rather like a puppy. He went in an open fronted bar and started chatting to some other guys. I knew it was a gay bar although I had never been in there. The other guys looked out at me and they all started laughing. I felt awful and yet it excited me. This was not lost on them because they began pointing at the site of my cock straining at the shorts. I wanted to cover my erection but I had been told to keep my hands behind my back. I felt my face redden and they laughed more. My master came out and I followed him down a side road full of bars and shops. He walked down a narrow turning and put a key in a door. I followed as he beckoned me inside. Even if he was a murderer I didn't seem to mind anymore. I think I was already his. (My master pats me on the head and strokes my cock). It was a communal staircase to flats above. He turned:
"Strip!"
I quickly pulled the T-shirt off and dropped the shorts. I held them in my hand but he took them from me and stuck them through one of a row of letter boxes and walked up the stairs. I started to follow but he snapped:
"Wait till I call you, slave!"
I heard a door open and close above and panic set in again. This was a semi-public place. Anyone could come by going to or from the flats. The door behind me opened and two men came in. they were obviously gay and heavily into leather. They saw me and I cringed.
"Oh, I see Paul's got someone new."
He reached out towards my throbbing cock and I backed away.
"Let them", a voice from the landing.
I stood still and closed my eyes as the two men came towards me and one of them stroked my cock. The other gave both my nipples the severest twist they had ever had. I felt my head begin to spin and that so familiar feeling well up inside me and my cock erupted over the hand that was stroking it.
"He's going to be in trouble for that!" said the one that had so far not spoken. The cum covered hand was lifted to my lips with the single word:
"Lick"
And I did. Every drop of my cum soon licked clean off that unknown hand. They laughed and went up the stairs. My master, who I now knew was Paul, although I was never to call him that, called me and I went hurriedly up and stood before him:
"Even though you have no training you will be punished for that! You cum only when I say and never for your own pleasure."
"I'm sorry, Sir, I just couldn't help it. It was all too..."
The back of his hand slapped hard across my face:
"Don't you ever answer me back. You are just here to please me and to do my bidding. Any disobedience will be punished. Now come inside."
I followed him still reeling and uncertain from the slap.
We went into a large living area that was expensively furnished. He opened a draw and took out some short ropes. He pulled me to the window and tied my arms above my head - one each side of the window. As he reached down and tied my feet in a similar position below the window my naked body looked out across the rooftops and windows of Soho. I understood that he enjoyed exhibiting me to the world. He said nothing but disappeared into another part of the flat. My cock pressed against the glass and some remaining cum trickled down the window. He returned and I could see his reflection in the window. He was wearing just a leather jock strap. He sat in a chair and I could no longer see him.
"So you want to be a slave?"
"Sir, Yes, Sir"
Well you have had a very tiny insight into what life as a slave might be like. If you are to be my slave then your body is mine. For my pleasure and to what ever I like with. I can use it as I want or I can let others use it. You have no choice. You will spend tonight here. At any time you can go - never to return. Oh, don't worry I'll find you some clothes to put on - I wouldn't want you to run through the streets of London naked - at least not tonight. At the end of the night you will sign my slave contract and you can never change your mind after that. Do you understand?"
"Sir, Yes, Sir"
He stood up and came towards me. His hands reached round and he twisted my nipples. He just held them like it for several minutes.
"Good, you don't cry out. I like that."
I felt proud I was pleasing him.
His hand slid across my chest and down to my cock. He fondled it and his hand went down to my balls. He rolled them about and then shifted his attention back to my cock. His fingers brushed the cum on the window:
"But you've made my window dirty. You must clean it"
He untied me and I instantly fell to my knees and started licking my cum from the window. By this time he was back in his chair and he motioned me over to him. I knelt before him and he stroked my face before pullig it down to his jock."
My master tells me this is enough for now and that I will write more if anyone is interested in my pathetic little life.
Slave Brian