DISCLAIMER: This story mentions many television shows and characters from television and movies. Nothing is implied about any of those shows, or any of the actors who played the characters mentioned. This is a totally fictitious tale.
I'm slave jim. I belong to my Master, Sir Dean. I submitted to him about six months ago. i took his collar. Now, i'm shaved once a week (and i used to be very hairy as you'll read), i'm in chastity, with Sir Dean letting me cum once a month (for now. He told me after a year, it would go to once every two months), and i have a pierced right nipple with a ring in it. When we go out, I wear Master Dean's slave collar, and when we're home, there's almost never a time when i'm not tied up in some way. i've never been happier.
Sir Dean wants me to write this story so that everyone knows that he conquered me, and that i belong to him. He says that if i write a good story, he might take the chastity belt off early this month. As i write this, my ankles are shackled to the legs of the chair i sit in, and I'm naked. There's a butt plug attached to the chair, to remind me of what it's like to have a dick in me. (i really don't need the reminding: i can't remember a day since i surrendered when i didn't have Sir Dean's cock in my ass at least once during the day: sometimes it's after he's shoved it down my throat, and sometimes, Master takes me in the morning and at night.)
So, i'm supposed to tell you the whole story. From the beginning. From when i knew i was gay. That story is probably the same for a lot of you readers: it was television. You know the shows: Batman. Aquaman. Wild West. Sky King. Lone Ranger. Yes, i watched them all: after school, at night. And yes, my favorite scenes were the ones when the hero was captured, tied up, and worked over. That happened sometimes on shows at night like "Man from Uncle" or "I Spy." i read all the writers who talked about the influence of these shows: how they wanted to be captured, or do the capturing. For me, i wanted to be captured. i wanted to be taken by some dark haired, villainous man and taken away to be his prisoner, and to be tied up all the time.
For many young boys like me, they got some of those fantasies taken care of by playing roughhouse games with other boys. That didn't work for me, for some simple reasons. Everyone thinks of the frail, blonde boy as the victim, as the one who gets captured, and the bigger, sturdier boys as the villain. i was the sturdy boy. Today, i don't know what you'd call a boy who had my body type, but i was always bigger than most of the other boys: bigger and more muscular. No one wanted to capture me and tie me up, because they knew that if i struggled, i was faking it. It didn't feel "real enough" for them. So i contented myself with being the villain, and i played the most wicked villain i could. i read all these books on knot tying, and became totally immersed in everything medieval: now THEY knew something about bondage, torment, and all that good stuff.
My mom was a housewife, my father a plumber: a VERY successful plumber, and i followed him into the business, after college. Please don't presume things. i WILL tell you how i went from college to plumbing, because it's important to this whole story.
High school was a blur for me. I had a crush on nearly every male teacher i had: in high school, i guess you could say i was still "versatile," even though i wasn't having any sex. What i mean by that is: there were teachers whom i wanted to tie up and abuse, and there were teachers i wanted to tie up and use me. The teachers had favorites. There was more than one "sodomite" (that's the word we used) when i was in high school, but again, they went after the prettier, blonder boys. The bigger dark haired kids like me? They left us alone. i resented it, but i channeled that resentment into two things: books, and the gym. However much the academic teachers liked the prettier boys, they couldn't overlook my well written papers, my perfect exams, so they smiled, gave me my "A's" and continued to ignore me. On the other hand, the Phys Ed teachers: they LOVED me. i would offer to clean up the gym, or the shower, for extra lessons or time on the machines, and they gave it freely. If i entered high school big, i left it big and buff. And hairy. Somewhere between sophomore and junior year, those hormones kicked in, and i began to look like one of my favorite characters in literature , "Beowulf." (Sometimes, after a hard workout, i smelled like i imagine he smelled too, but that's just me fantasizing: something i did a lot of).
You probably could figure out that with my grades, i had no problem getting into a really good college, and with a scholarship. Mom and Dad were proud, but i remember my Dad saying "don't forget us jimmy. don't forget the people who made you." i didn't. Every summer vacation, i went back home and went to work for my Dad. For one summer, i was the "on call" plumber. Why do you all get clogged sinks and toilets on Saturday afternoon, and Sunday morning? That was my job: i did all the graveyard shifts. It made me a better person, and eventually, a better sub. i was still "versatile" in college, although for the most part, the story was the same as it was when i was a kid. i had reached my full height of 6'1" and my weight moved between 210 and 215. i was every bottom's "wet dream," (including mine), and i never lacked for companionship. But if i wanted to switch roles? It happened once, maybe twice, but not more than that. If i were an actor, i'd say i was "typecast." i majored in English literature, and i took all the classes on medieval and early English literature i could. i learned those languages and to this day, when i'm not gagged, i can recite whole sections of "The Canterbury Tales" by rote, in the original. When it came time to write my honor's thesis, though, i decided on a very offbeat topic (at least at the time). If i could find them, i took classes on gay literature (we didn't have LGBT as an acronym at the time). One thing that struck me was that there were stereotypes at work here: the characters all had money, fancy houses, extravagant lifestyles. Where were the bus drivers, the mechanics, the plumbers? They were there, but you had to work to find them. my thesis was titled "blue collar tropes and metafictions in depictions of homosexuals in literature." i got an A+. My parents were thrilled with the grade (if not the title of the thesis), i was thrilled, my professors were thrilled.
The job market was not. i left college with a grade of summa cum laude, lots of sexual experience as a top, and no job prospects whatsoever. That's not true. my Dad was getting on in years, and he had trained me well during those summers. i came back to his business. At the time, he had four assistant plumbers besides me. They were all white men, all married to women, all as raw as a good steak. i never enjoyed myself more than when i was with them. College be damned, i was having fun with these guys. One of them dared me to grow a moustache, and i did. Now, sometimes Sir Dean lets me grow it back, but mostly, he keeps my face smooth. He feels that the moustache might make people think I'm a Top, especially if my other hair is allowed to grow. (When Sir Dean ties me down and shaves my moustache, it's one of the hottest things in the world. He always fucks me after he does it, and he fucks me HARD. I drip, and I drip... but i'm getting ahead of my story).
So, back at home working in my father's business (we agreed that i should live on my own, and i did, in a small apartment near my father's business), i filled my days with work, the gym, and dating. my folks knew about my homosexuality, and if they were upset about it, they never said anything. Dad was always more concerned with his business than anything else, and mom had a life too). i went out to the bars, i went to events, and i could usually score if i wanted to take someone home and top him. If i wanted someone to top ME? Didn't happen. So i just got used to it. And that's how it was for about five years. Until that night Javier came into the bar.
He made a bee line for me, and i didn't understand why. Yes, he was HOT. VERY HOT. He had a moustache thicker than mine, really dark eyes, a luscious set of lips and a wicked smile. He had a toned body, and a voice that was like buckwheat honey. i know that because he came up to me and said, in heavily accented English: "You are coming home with me tonight." i smiled at him and i said "But you look like a top." He smiled back and answered. "I AM a top. I'm fucking you tonight, handsome." There was only one thing I could do: I answered "yes sir," and went home with him. He kept his promise. It was the best fuck a guy had ever thrown in me. Unless the one he threw in me the night after was better. Or the one after that. We were together for three years. In those three years, i never once topped him, and Javier taught me about the fine art of bondage. "It's not sex without ropes, jimmy," he would tell me. After a while, i began to agree. i LOVED the intricate ways he tied me up, or the different gags he'd use: tape, one shaped like a penis, a simple bandana, two socks tied together. i learned about "toys" from him too. No one had ever put a dildo or a vibrator up my man pussy, but he did. i had never had nipple clamps on my tits before he used them. i lose track of how many toys he introduced me to: ( Sir Dean uses a lot of them too, and he doesn't like it when i tell him he isn't the first man who used them on me. Sir Dean doesn't like it that my man pussy had been used before he got to it, but he likes it anyway. ). "Nothing good every lasts," is something i heard my mother say a lot. She said it more after my father died suddenly one night, peacefully and in his sleep. By that point, the business had expanded and counting Dad and myself, there were ten plumbers. We had enough work, and dad had introduced me to all of his commercial clients, so it was an easy thing for me to simply take over the business. i had to work harder, and i was home less. Being home less meant my man pussy was less accessible to Javier, and that got him angry. Now, i enjoy being passive: i do NOT enjoy being hit or beaten up, and Javier crossed the line. He swung first, and then i swung back, and he wound up hurt much worse. He moved out the next day. When I told my mom, she had her usual smart advice "Good riddance to bad rubbish, you'll find someone better." She was right, it just took a long time.
It was just about that time that on line dating, and dating sites began to develop. i decided to try them because, well, i thought of them as similar to on line shopping as compared to going to stores: if you go into a store, you're never sure if you've wasted your time because they're out of stock in your size. On the other hand, going on line allows you to find exactly what you want - if you know what you want, right away. i knew what i wanted. i wanted a top like Javier. And i wasn't finding him bar hopping. Some friends had me put up a profile. i remember the line they had me use because there was no escaping the fact that i looked more like a Top than a bottom: a very smart friend from college had me include the line "one man's daddy is another man's boy." I kept that in the profile until Sir Dean had me take it down: i don't need to advertise anymore, he said. i'm HIS boy. So, when all is said and done, the ironic thing is that, after all the work on the profile, and all the hits i got or all the guys i approached, i met Sir Dean in a bar. Seriously. Talk about retro.
It wasn't even one of my regular bars. Again a college buddy was visiting, and he was staying in a part of town far from where i hung out. Chuck always managed to find the gay bar wherever he went, and he found one i didn't know about. We met there for drinks. That's where I met Sir Dean. He came up to me when Chuck was using the men's room. He smiled. "So, are you being a daddy or a boy tonight?," he said, quoting my profile. i squinted, looking him over. "You know me from dating sites?" "I check out your profile every day. Wish you had posted some x rated ones." i blushed. He REALLY wasn't my "type". I went for dark, Latino guys like Javier. Sir Dean was tall, thin, and blond. He went on "How about you let me see some of your x rated parts?" i looked at him. "is that your best pick up line?" I asked. He smiled. "No, this one is." and he leaned in and whispered in my ear "8 inches" . i leaned forward and whispered into his "same here." He began to laugh. "So I guess we'll have to do something to figure out who's the daddy and who's the boy?" Again, i didn't think this was going to work, but Chuck and i had been such good friends in college that we were more 'sisters' than anything else, so nothing was going to happen between us. "I need to just say goodnight to my friend, then i can go." Sir Dean smiled. He told me his name, but of course, i wasn't calling him "Sir" at that point. After Chuck came back, i introduced Dean to him, made sure he was ok, and then left with Dean. He lived close enough so that it was a brisk walk. "I have a suggestion," he said. "When we get to my place, let's wrestle. Whoever gets the other guy to give up, gets to pick positions." i began thinking "oh shit, i'm gonna be topping again tonight," but i agreed. i could close my eyes and think of Javier, or any of my fantasy men. A half hour later, i was flat on my back on Sir Dean's floor, my wrists pinned underneath his hands, trying desperately, and uselessly, to get up. "You give up big man?" he asked? "FUCK YOU" I shot back. He had me pinned, but i hadn't given up. He hadn't used his secret weapon on me. "I have a feeling, jim... you may be very, very ticklish." i honestly didn't know. My parents hadn't tickled me, and it had never been part of my sexual repertoire. When he got to work on my belly, i knew: i was. i began to laugh like a little girl. "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. SSSSSSSSSSSSTTTTTTTTTTTAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPP" but he didn't. He just kept on making this claw like motion with his hand, and i was having trouble breathing. "Why would I stop. You're gonna give up.." he said this as i continued to laugh and to squirm. "And then... I'm going to take y your phony topman ass.. GIVE UP?" He dug in harder. "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA. YES. YES. YES. I GIVE UP I GIVE UP. " He stopped, but then he lay down on top of me and whispered into my ear. "You know what this means, jim, don't you. It means.... I'm gonna FUCK you." He started nibbling at my ear, and then he began squeezing a nipple through my shirt. Even Javier had never done that to me, and waves of pleasure began to go through me. Intense pleasure. When he pushed his knee onto my crotch, i thought i was going to the moon. "You wanna get FUCKED Sasquatch? " He asked. "YES. YES. FUCK ME. FUCK MY ASS. PLEASE." He didn't tie me up that night, but he DID fuck me. And he was lying about the 8 inches. It was more like 91/2. Maybe THAT was the best fuck of my life. It sure was the best one up to that point in my life. It was late when we finished, but not so late that i had to stay over (although he invited me). I thanked him, but told him i needed to get back to open my business the next day. "What do you do?" he asked me. When i told him i was a plumber, he laughed. "Well, the plumber just got a plunger thrown into him." Sir Dean does NOT have a great sense of humor. He apologized right away. "You wanna come back?" He asked me. "Yeah, i do. Or you could come over. That was great." He smiled. "I got a whole bunch of toys I wanna use on you jim. I better not think about it, or I'll get hard again and have to fuck you again." i could've lived with that, but we took a rain check.
Readers, if you like my story so far, let me know. Sir Dean told me that i could continue it if people liked it. If they didn't, well, he'd figure out something to do to me.