I know that many of the stories here say this, but what follows is as much of a true story as I can remember from the time - names have been changed to protect the innocent
At the time that this happened, I was 35 and had recently come out of a significant long-term relationship. My relationship had not included anything in the way of non-traditional sexual activity, something which I had long known I wanted.
When I became single, I joined a number of dating and hook-up sites, including a number of more kinky and SM oriented ones. I don't remember now on which site I first encountered Grant, but I know that it wasn't long before we were chatting on MSN Messenger fairly regularly. I had discovered a side to myself that had been laying hidden for far too long, by desire to won and use slaves and Grant seemed to fit into what I needed more than most I had come across.
Grant was 36. He was an experienced slave and houseboy, having been trained up in a harsh household some years ago. As we chatted, I knew I wanted to meet him. At the time, I was living in Brighton and Grant was living in London, so to visit me he was going to have to travel down on the train. Grant needed humiliating, so I told him that for his first visit he would travel down in his slave uniform – short smart blue shorts, smart short-sleeved shirt and nothing else, no underwear and no footwear. Furthermore, when he arrived at the small station closest to my home, he was to remove his shirt and would be walking home with me in just his shorts – topless and bare foot. We arranged for him to report on Friday evening, so he had time to go home from work, change out of his working professional gentleman' attire, shower, shave and put on his slaveboy' attire, so it was about 9pm when his train was due to pull into the station.
I had been out for a drink with some friends and had stopped at the local supermarket to pick up a few things before heading to the station to meet the boy (as I will call Grant from here on, as that is how he was addressed at all times). Apart from the fact that the station was closer to my home, I had told the boy to get off at Preston Park rather than the main station because I could await him on the platform, and see him get off the train to ensure that he obeyed my instructions about what he should be wearing.
I'm notorious for being early for everything, so I was on the platform a good quarter of an hour before the train was due to arrive. The boy texted me as instructed when his train left the previous station,
"Just left Hassocks, Sir"
"Am on the platform at PP. Have you removed your shirt?"
"Yes, Sir, it is in my bag"
"Good boy. How r u feeling?"
"Nervous, Sir, humbled, Sir"
"Good, that is as it should be"
A few minutes later a train pulled into the platform. Only one person got out – right at the very rear of the train, a full platform length from where I was standing by the steps down to the road. Even though the light was fading, I could see that it was a tall and slim man dressed only in a pair of shorts with a small rucksack on his bag.
The figure walked down the platform toward me, alongside the train as it pulled out of the platform. Finally he reached me,
"Good evening, Master Dan, Sir," he said. I looked him up and down and then held out my carrier bags of shopping,
"You can carry these, boy."
I turned and walked off the platform and down the steps to the road, by new slave/houseboy by my side.
The boy was taller than me, and slimmer. Being dressed only in short shorts (ones which came about three inches above the knee) I could see that his body was in decent shape. His chest hair had been trimmed, and his head was shaved. He was wearing black steel rimmed spectacles.
The walk to my house from the station took around 15 minutes, and during it I reminded the boy of what was expected of him over the course of the weekend while he was in my service – we had agreed that he would stay until Saturday evening. The most important thing, as I stressed to him, was that he was to remove his shorts as soon as we were in the house without being told – slaveboys should be naked, I believe - and then kneel in the hallway with his hands on his head until I was ready for him.
The walk was without incident, except I had to remind the boy on a number of occasions not to slouch and to walk tall beside his Master. Finally we reached my house. I told him to hand me the shopping as I got my keys out.
I opened the front door and walked into the house, going straight through to the kitchen with the shopping. I heard the front door close behind the boy, and I took a little while to put the food, etc. away in the fridge and the cupboards. I looked round the kitchen – on the side was a whole week's washing up. Whilst I had a dishwasher, I had kindly saved up my washing up for the boy to do. When I was ready, I walked back into the hallway to get my first sight of my new boy fully undressed.
He was kneeling on the hard tiled floor as I had told him to, hands clasped on his head, eyes downcast. He had clearly put his shorts into his rucksack, which was in front of him on the floor as instructed. I picked it up and took it upstairs and put it away in a cupboard in the spare room – he wouldn't be needing it or anything in it for 24 hours. I brought down a number of `essential' items for the next few hours, some of which I put onto the dining table, before going back into the hallway.
Standing before my new houseboy, I told him to raise his head. Without looking him in the eye, I buckled a leather collar with D-rings around his neck.
"Stand up, boy."
"Yes, Sir," he said, obeying.
I clipped a leash to the front D-ring of the collar and used this to lead him into the living room, where I stood him in the centre of the room. I sat down and look him over. As I have said, he was taller than me (probably about 6' 2" to my 5' 10"), and slimmer (a 32" waist to my 36"). He had told me that he exercised daily – cycling to work, running most evenings and working out with weights in his bedroom – and his body showed that, it was in decent shape. He wasn't muscular by any means, but his body showed definition and tone. His penis was flaccid and of a decent size and he had a good sized pair of balls, not that I was particularly interested in his genitalia. He had told me that he had been trained not to become erect whilst serving by a previous Master, something which appealed to me as I felt that a flaccid penis showed that he was not serving because he was getting off on it, rather because he knew that it was his proper place as a slaveboy. I had seen when I met him that his chest hair had been trimmed. Now he was naked with his hands on his head I could clearly see that the same had been done to his pit hair and pubes. His balls had been shaved smooth.
"Next time I see you, boy, trimming that hair will not be enough. You will shave or wax your chest, pits, pubes and arse, boy."
"Yes, Sir, sorry, Sir."
"And if it has not been done to my satisfaction, I will do it myself, understand?"
"Yes, Sir."
I had him turn round. His buttocks were small but plump.
"Bend over and reach back to spread your cheeks, boy."
He obeyed, pulling his arsecheeks apart to show me his hole. The hair in his crack had been shaved and his hole was clean.
"When were you last fucked, boy?"
"About a fortnight ago, Sir."
Leaving the boy standing in this exposed and humiliating position, I went into the dining room and picked up a bottle of lube, a butt plug and a couple of other things. Going back to the living room, I squatted by the boy and touched him for the first time, lubing up his hole. He grunted as my fingers entered him for the first time and again as I withdrew them. Picking up the plug, I lubed it up too, and then pressed it against his anus, pushing gently and watching as he opened up to the invasion, slowly, inexorably pressing the plug into him as his breathing became louder and he groaned as the widest part of the plug stretched him. Finally, that moment came where the hole accepts the plug totally and closes gratefully onto the thinner stem attaching plug to base. The boy grunted and exhaled sharply as his butt clamped shut on the plug, but his fingers never loosed their grip on his buttocks.
"You may put your hands back on your head, stand up and face me, boy."
He did so, wincing as he turned as he tried to accommodate the new sensation inside him. I reached down beside me once more, stood up, and showed him the pair of nipple clamps I had in my hand. They were identical to the ones he had been wearing in a picture he had sent me when we were chatting – small, metal and with alligator clips on the end with nasty metal teeth. I had never worn such things, but I was pretty sure they were not pleasant! The chain between them would hang most attractively, and if I wanted to lead him by his nipples, it would be ideal. I opened the first clamp with one hand, whilst squeezing his left nipple out ready to receive the clamp. He closed his eyes and I slapped his face and told him to open them and look at me. He did as he was told, and I squeezed the nipple again, lined up the clamp and slowly let it shut, capturing his tender flesh. As it bit down, he grimaced and gasped. I could see his arms tense as he clasped his hands tight on his head. Giving him a moment to adjust, I looked him up and down again – he was breathing more heavily, but calming himself down. I repeated the procedure with his right nipple, squeezing, approaching and slowly closing. Again, he gasped, grimaced and tensed.
I stood back – he looked good collared and clamped.
"Now you're almost properly attired to be my slave, aren't you, boy?"
"Yes, Sir."
"How are you feeling, boy?"
"Humbled, Sir. Exposed by being naked in front of someone I only met less than an hour ago, Sir. Embarrassed at having had to show you my hole and have you fill it with your plug, Sir. Sore at having your clamps on my nipples, Sir."
"So, boy, what do you still need to be properly attired to be my slave, boy?"
"I need a red bottom, Sir."
"And how should we achieve that, boy?"
"I need to be spanked, Sir."
"So what do you say, boy?"
"Please, Master Dan, Sir, please will you put me across your knee and spank me until my bottom is an appropriate shade of red for your service, Sir?"
"Very well, boy, come with me."
I took hold of the leash again, and led him into the dining room. I turned one of the dining chairs around, sat down on it and patted my knee. The boy moved round to my side and lowered himself over my lap. I positioned him so that his bottom was in the right place for spanking, and he put his hands on the floor in front of him and stretched his legs out behind. And I spanked him.
For me, I don't like seeing a houseboy with an unreddened bottom – I like to see a bit of colour in his cheeks! Also, I think that a spanking is not necessarily a punishment; rather it is a form of discipline, a way of reminding him of his place. And putting a grown man across my knee with him naked and me fully clothed really brings home to him his place as my slave.
I knew from my chats with the boy before he visited that he did not like being spanked. Now, I know that most people don't like being spanked, but many find it erotic in some degree and often a problem with slaves can be that they do get off on a spanking, which makes it less useful as a disciplinary approach. This boy, however, was not like that. A spanking to him was unpleasant, painful, humiliating and totally unerotic. All the more fun for me, then!
I didn't bother with any `warm-up' spanking – when a boy starts a spanking naked anyway there is little point in going easy to start with. So I began spanking pretty hard. I've been told in the past that my hand is pretty powerful and that it can hurt more than some guys do with a paddle. And now the boy was feeling it for the first time.
His bottom started going a pleasing shade of pink, and as the spanking continued he began grunting, groaning and squirming over my lap. Having the butt plug inserted meant that as he squirmed that moved around inside him, which occasioned more grunts and groans, but I kept on going until his bottom was a nice cherry red colour. When he was properly attired, I led him back into the hallway and pointed to the front door,
"Right, boy, whenever you are not in use you will stand with your nose against the front door, hand on head and with your feet against the walls either side. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Right then, get into position, then."
He walked to the door and stood as I had directed. My hallway was fairly narrow, only the width of the front door. I made sure his nose was actually touching the door, and that his feet were against the hall walls. I then took a few pictures of his red bottom for posterity and left him there, the plug clearly visible between his buttocks.
After a few minutes, I decided it was time for him to get to work – that, after all, was what he was there for. I picked up a ball-gag from the table and fitted it into his mouth and then led him into the kitchen and told him to get on with the pile of washing up I had left for him. After telling him that I wanted it all washed, dried and put away and that when he was , I left him to it and went to sit down in the living room to watch TV.
I hadn't been there very long when I heard the unmistakeable sound of glass breaking. Getting up, I went back to the kitchen, to find the boy on his hands and knees with the dust pan and brush, sweeping up the remains of a tumbler which he had just dropped. Without a word I took hold of his ear and dragged him into the dining room, bent him over the table, picked up a cane from the table and gave him six swift and hard strokes to his bare, red bottom. Putting the cane down, I told him to get back to his work, and went back to the living room.
After some time, I decided I needed a drink. "Boy!" I called out.
The boy came into the living room and mumbled "Yes, Sir?" as best he could through the gag.
"Get me a glass of red wine, boy."
"Yes, Sir," he mumbled again.
A few moments later he returned carrying a glass of wine. He knelt before me and held it out. I made him wait a few minutes before taking it and nodding to indicate he should resume his work. As he left the room I was pleased to see that his bottom was still nicely red from his spanking, with the cane lines standing out on top of that.
Eventually, I heard the boy walk down from the kitchen to the hallway. I left him there for 45 minutes until the film I was watching had finished, when I switched off the TV and the lights in the living room. I went down to the kitchen, ignoring the naked, red, plugged, clamped and gagged boy standing in the hallway and made sure that the kitchen was tidy and everything had been put away. It seemed to have all been done properly, and the boy had cleaned all the surfaces as well.
Going back to the hallway, I told the boy to turn around. He moved his legs together with some difficulty, and turned.
"You've done a good job there, boy."
"Thank you, Sir," he mumbled through his gag.
"We are going up to bed now, boy."
I took his leash and led him up the stairs. Standing him in the corner of my bedroom, I got undressed, had a pee and sent him to relieve himself. Took the gag our and I told him to remove his plug and clean it and bring it back to me. When he returned sat on the edge of my bed and had him suck me off. My cock is not enormous, but it is about 7.5" long and pretty thick, and he gagged somewhat as he swallowed it all down. He was a good cocksucker, however, and it didn't take long before the cum was churning up in my balls and spurting into his mouth.
"Don't swallow it, boy," I said, as he suckled on my still twitching cock. When I was finally finished, I withdrew from his gob.
"Open your mouth and show me, boy."
He opened up, and displayed his master's cum on his tongue. I had him kneel there with his mouth open while I went and had a final pee and finished getting ready for bed. Only when I returned did I allow him to swallow my load.
"Thank you, Master Dan, Sir, for allowing me to suck your cock."
"That's OK, boy. Just time for a bedtime spanking before we go to sleep."
I sat back on the edge of the bed and put him back across my knee. Picking up a wooden hairbrush, I gave him about 5 minutes of good hard spanking, which had him yelping and writhing. As a last disciplinary measure, I removed the nipple clamps before he slept. He grimaced and gasped loudly as the blood rushed back into his tortured nipples. Putting the clamps on my bedside table, I pointed to the floor beside my bed,
"Lay down, boy, and get some sleep. You've got a busy day tomorrow."
I lay back in my comfortable bed, my naked slave on the floor beside me, switched off the light, and was asleep in moments.