SLUTTY WHORE NEW YORK NEW YORK 01
by GWMSUB4DOMGAM
These are mostly memoirs of things I've done in the past. Timelines are adjusted and some artistic license has been applied to make the re-telling more interesting and captivating. Some things which I include in one moment of time may have happened over weeks or months, but compressing them into one moment would have been so much fun, so I re-tell it this way.
My submission started in Scotland at a pretty young age, moving to London for University. I had an opportunity to work in New York and jumped at the chance to explore America while being paid to do it. This is some of my time and memories in New York.
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I moved to New York City to work as a computer nerd on a business VISA and the company found me a tiny apartment on Jane Street close to Greenwich Village. It was a bit of a culture shock moving from London to New York, but I was intrigued and excited. I spent the first few weeks just getting familiar with my new company, the job, and my surroundings, but I quickly figured out that Greenwich Village was a hub of gay life in New York, which was lucky for me, though it didn't play a huge factor in my life in New York, surprisingly.
I had done some nude modeling back in the UK, as well as some stage and film acting. As I began to settle in to my new New York routine, I began exploring the many BDSM opportunities the city had to offer, checking out a few bars and chatting with a few folks, but not doing anything right away. I'd had a pretty bad break up with my former Master in London, and largely just wanted to have fun and enjoy my freedom for a while. Screw a few hot boys, and just see what life threw my way. It threw an ad for nude male models my way for a local "well known" photographer. The ad didn't say too much, other than full frontal nudity was required and the images would be published. I contacted the e-mail, sent some of my images from my work in the U.K. and Stan replied the following day asking to meet in person. Two days later I walked into a coffee shop in the Village to meet with him. He showed me his work, we chatted, and I agreed to model for him.
That weekend I navigated my way through the deserted financial district on a chilly and overcast Sunday afternoon to find his building. His studio was on the top floor and despite the run-down appearance of the building and the antiquated elevator inside the building, his studio was spacious, clean, well equipped and inviting. He had an older assistant who to help him with the shoot, and after some small talk we got down to the photo shoot which was a lot of fun. The images from the shoot actually appeared in "Inches" magazine and I made a couple of hundred bucks in spending money which was fun. As we chatted during the shoot, I felt comfortable with him and told him about my interests in BDSM and my submissive nature in that regard. He seemed interested and quizzed me on all sorts of things about my first experiences with Master Hugh, and my experiences with Master Rashid.
"So," he asked as we were nearing the end of the two hour-long session we'd agreed to.
"You'd be o.k. if I took you outside into the alley beside the building to shoot some nude bondage shots there?"
I looked out of the large floor to ceiling windows at the end of the studio and saw the black clouds looming over the city. It was November in New York City and pretty cold. It was threatening to rain at any moment, and he wanted to tie me up naked in the alley.
"I don't know," I hesitated. The idea was, of course, extremely appealing to me, yet, I didn't want to be arrested for public indecency in New York just a few weeks in.
"Is it legal?" I asked.
"Sure, as long as we don't get caught," he laughed in reply. His assistant also chuckled at that comment.
"Have you been caught before. Doing that, I mean?" I asked.
"More than a few times," he replied. "But the cops normally just tell you to get dressed and move on. This is New York. Anything goes here" he added.
I was contemplating and absent mindedly stroking my cock when he added.
"What if I ORDERED you to do it?" he asked, staring at me intently, but still smiling broadly.
I liked Stan as a person, and he was clearly a great photographer, but there was no sexual interest in him what so ever, yet, the idea that someone I had just met thought he could simply order me to do something and expect that I would made me feel strangely submissive and horny all at the same time.
"What if I FORCED you to do it?" he asked as he walked towards me and grabbed a handful of hair at the back of my head, looking intently into my eyes.
"I think he want's this," he said to his assistant as I felt him push me forward in the direction of the door to his studio. "Bring my camera and the circular reflector."
Stan, he really wasn't a Master and he wasn't my Master at that point, pushed me naked and barefoot to the door of his studio.
"Open the door," he said in a very calm and relaxed voice.
I opened the door and he gently pushed me through it into the hallway which had three other similar doors on this floor and the elevator doors at the end of the hallway. He pushed me forward to the elevator, my bare feet slapping on the hard tile surface of the corridor and my erect cock bouncing from one side to the other as I walked. His hand still grasping a tight hold of the hair on the back of my head.
As the elevator doors opened, I was both relieved and quite honestly somewhat disappointed that no-one was inside. Stan pushed me inside the elevator cubicle and took his camera from his assistant.
"Get on your knees. Put your hands behind your head. Spread your knees," he commanded as he took shots of me following his commands in the elevator. They then entered the elevator and Stan pressed the button to take us to the ground floor.
He was smiling at me as I watched the floors tick away, wondering if anyone else in the building may be waiting for the elevator at that very moment. Finally, we reached the ground floor and the doors swung open to face the two large glass doors which led out onto the street in front of the building.
Grabbing my hair once again, he gently pushed me out of the elevator and over to the doors, then out onto the set of three steps which led down to the sidewalk. He paused for a moment, releasing my hair and jumping down the three steps with his camera to shoot some more images of me. I had heard the two doors click behind me, so I knew I was now locked out of the building, naked and barefoot in the middle of Manhattan. I had once again put myself at the mercy of a man I'd barely met, and I was so horny and scared all at the same time, it was delicious.
Stan kept me on the street, which was almost entirely deserted, and in the alley by the side of his building for about two hours. His assistant helped in hog-tying me on the dirty ground of the alley. Stan shot a number of photo's. The then untied my ankles, got me to my feet and bound me to a pipe on one of the buildings. More photo's were taken. My hands were then bound in front of me, but the rope thrown over a cross pipe about fifteen feet above my head. The rope was pulled taught and tied off to the side of the alley when I was straining on my tip-toes. More photo's as it began to rain. The cold wind picked up off the River and the rain got harder, my hair and body now wet. More photo's. Still on my tip-toes, stark naked and barefoot, bound in the middle of the alley Stan motioned to his assistant.
"We'll be right back," and both gathered up their gear and walked back towards the steps to their building which was now about twenty or more yards down the alley.
I was confused, and unsure what was happening, but struggled to turn on my tip-toes to see them walking away from me.
"Wait," I shouted, but they ignored me, walking up the steps to their building without even a glace back to me.
I looked around the alley, and examined the rope that bound my wrists, but it was very well tied. I tugged on it, but to no great effect other than tightening the binding slightly. I shivered as another gust of wind blew over my naked flesh, and wondered what was next. It occurred to me that if I tried to move the rope towards the side of the alley, I may have more slack to work with and may be able to untie myself. I tugged and twisted my entire body trying to move the rope, but the little grip I had on the ground being on my tip-toes made it a difficult task indeed. It was raining pretty hard now, and it was quickly getting dark. I had a sudden and irrational fear I was going to die of exposure, naked in this alley in New York. They were not coming back for me. I'd been conned somehow. Fear and doubt was growing when his assistant suddenly appeared in front of me smiling.
He hugged me and kissed me full on the lips, pushing his tongue into my mouth.
"We got some fucking amazing images of you tied naked and alone in the alley from the rooftop," he gushed as he walked to the side of the alley to untie the rope that kept me suspended on my tip-toes.
"You're gonna cream yourself when you see them," he promised.
As the rope was released I was able to pull my arms down. My hands were basically numb and freezing. The assistant grabbed the rope just beyond my wrists and smiling said "Come on," as he led me still naked and barefoot to back into the building.
Instead of being really pissed off or angry at being "abandoned" in the alley, I was so happy to see him, and then so intrigued to see the images they'd shot of me. I had always had fantasies of being kidnapped, stripped naked in pubic, gang-raped, then left naked and bound outdoors somewhere. This was pretty damned close to the fantasy, and despite the fear and doubts, the cold wind and cold rain, despite my hands being numb from being bound so tightly; my cock was now rock hard and leaking.
Once in the elevator heading up to Stan's floor, he began kissing me and fondling me all over. His name was Eugene. He was a photography student and worked with Stan part time to help make ends meet I would find out later.
"You are so fucking hot," he told me as his fingers probed my asshole and stroked my engorged cock again. "I so want to fuck the shit out of you all fucking week," he continued, but the elevator doors opened and he led me to Stan's studio as though nothing had happened. I was so into him, I almost shot my load all over him as soon as he grabbed my cock and began stroking it.
"Fuck yes," I whispered, almost breathless at the sensory overload as he led me from the elevator into the warm studio.
Warm hot chocolate and reviewing the digital images he had just shot, I remained naked and barefoot, wrists still bound, until I was ready to leave some four hours or so after arriving. Eugene was right. The images of me naked, suspended, and all alone in the alley were amazing. I left about an hour later, with Eugene walking me naked and still bound all the way outside the building before untying me and giving me my clothes. He watched and filmed me on his phone as I got dressed. He then sent that video to my cell phone.
"I'll call you," he promised as I was leaving.
"Please. Please do," "SIR" I added as an afterthought. Eugene smiled broadly and watched me as I walked up the street.
I went home and jerked off, reliving the whole amazing day, and fantasizing that a gang of five or ten guys had walked down the alley to find and use me. Eugene called me later that night and I agreed to meet him the following day, which is another adventure entirely that I'll cover some other time J
I met Stan a few more times for some fun indoor and outdoor photo sessions around New York with Eugene as his assistant. He was very easy going, fun, and he seemed to enjoy getting me naked and frequently tying me up in public places -- which I LOVED as well J I had met some students working on film projects and a stage project also, which Stan knew about also. Then one day he mentioned to me that a friend was having a gallery opening of his own nude male photography work and he was looking for some naked male waiters to make the opening more fun. It sounded like a lot of fun, so I agreed.
Three weeks later I was at a largish ground floor store front with huge glass windows that opened to the sidewalk. Nude male erotic photography hung on the walls, including bondage, S&M, and more extreme images all of which were fascinating and HOT. Stan introduced me to the young photographer, Scott, and we hit it off pretty quickly. He was black, born in the mid West but moved to New York to pursue art, and got into both photography and BDSM pretty quickly. He explained the background of a few of his images, when a couple of other cute young guys came into the studio. They were the other waiters for the event. We all went to the back room and stripped completely naked, with Stan and Scott chatting as we did.
Scott explained we would be carrying trays of canapés for the event while completely naked and barefoot. Scott then produced some collars, hand cuffs, ankle cuffs, cock rings and so on and asked if we'd be o.k. wearing them. The other two waiters were reluctant but I, naturally, was all for it, so I stepped forward.
"What would you like?" asked Scott.
"Whatever you want to use on me, Sir," I told him and he and Stan exchanged a knowledgeable smile between them.
I served canapés to about one hundred and fifty patrons that evening, with a steel collar around my neck which had "SLAVE" etched into it. My wrists were handcuffed to the handles on either side of the tray I was carrying. I wore nipple clamps which it seemed like everyone enjoyed removing and re-attaching to see me wince. My balls were bound and stretched and a tight leather cock ring was added to keep me hard throughout the evening. The other two waiters would only wear collars but balked at anything else, but they were cute enough to garner significant attention anyway. I however, attracted a significant amount of dominant attention, with hands exploring my naked flesh all evening. It was one of the most fun events I had participated in and I was disappointed when the evening ended.
As the last of the guests at the gallery opening were leaving, Scott asked if I'd be willing to help clearing up. It was already midnight, and the other two waiters were only hired until midnight, so they were already dressed and heading out. I had been released from the handcuffs binding me to the tray, and was helping to collect glasses and trash around the room as they left. I was still naked and barefoot, though my nipple clamps had disappeared at some point during the event. I'm not even sure when that happened.
"Sure, Sir," I replied.
"What do you need?" I inquired and Scott smiled.
"Oh, I can think of a lot of things I need from you, boy," Scott replied and I fucking blushed and looked down at the ground, suddenly shy and embarrassed.
What the hell, I'm standing stark naked, collared, with my cock hard and bound, in a public space, having been fondled all night a hundred or so strangers, but when this gorgeous black guy suggests -- or at least I'm interpreting -- that he wants to use me sexually, I get all shy and coy. So fucking weird. I WANT him to fuck the shit out of me and use me in the most degrading ways imaginable, but while I'm totally comfortable being naked and getting fondled, I'm shy about admitting what I really want sexually.
Scott could see my discomfort, and he enjoyed it. He seemed to understand me at the deepest levels of my kinky soul, and he knew exactly how to both appeal to those kinks, and how to satisfy his own lust and desires at the same time.
That evening, he kept me working until around one thirty in the morning. I remained naked and collared the whole time. I helped pick up trash left by the guests. I swept the floor with a broom. I mopped the floor. I loaded the glasses which had been rented for the event into large plastic trays and stacked them. Scott worked alongside me as I labored, but he also took time to photograph and film me as I worked. I LOVED this, and loved his attention.
"Take the garbage out," Scott commanded as he smiled broadly at me.
There were about a dozen large garden size bags of trash stacked by the back door to the gallery.
"Yes, Sir," I replied, but as I grabbed the first few bags of trash I looked back at him with a questioning glance. I didn't know where the trash needed to go.
Scott smiled as he opened the back door to the gallery, leading to an alley that ran the length of the block. I walked out of the door and into the alley which was pretty brightly lit from two overhead lights attached to the roof of the gallery. I looked left and right and noticed a few vehicles parked but no-one else in the alley.
Scott stepped out to the side of the open door and motioned to a series of five or six large skips that were on the opposite side of the alley, about one hundred yards away.
"Drop them in the first skip over there," he said as he motioned to the skips.
"Yes, Sir," I replied and immediately made my way to the skip, walking down the center of the alley barefoot, watching the ground to ensure I didn't step on any broken glass or rocks. I glanced at the end of the alley, and up to the windows of the buildings that looked over the alley. One or two of those windows still had lights on, but most were dark. I reached the skip and dropped the bags on the ground, before selecting them one by one and throwing them over the side into the skip.
I walked back to the door as Scott filmed me the whole way, still smiling broadly. I repeated this process two more times. When I returned for the last two bags, I noticed one of the bags was open, and the clothes I'd come with that evening were sitting on the floor next to the open bag.
"You forgot some trash," Scott commented, kicking my clothes with his foot.
I looked at him and saw he had my house keys and wallet in his hand. I looked back at my clothes and my cock twitched a couple of times.
"Hurry up boy," Scott said with a clear humor in his voice. "I don't want to be here all night."
I had discussed my past slavery with Stan during a few photography sessions. Clearly, he had discussed this with Scott. I had just met Scott. He was black, American, gorgeous, talented, dominant, clearly interested in me, and Stan trusted him. Throwing my clothes in the garbage bag, then in the skip, would leave me at his mercy, naked, barefoot, with no way home to my apartment other than to walk naked through New York if something went wrong. Should I do this? My constantly twitching cock made the decision.
"Yes, Sir," I said.
I swept up my clothes and sneakers and put them in the open bag. I carried both remaining bags to the skip and without a moment of hesitation I threw both into the skip. I turned and walked back to Master Scott. His smile matched only by my own. As I reached him he held out a pair of handcuffs, and I turned, putting my hands behind my back. I felt the cold steel wrap around my wrists and the clicking of the arm as my desire was sealed.
"You are mine for the night, boy," Master Scott said in my ear.
"Yes, Sir," I said, with anticipation of what the night would hold.
--End
I would love feedback on this story, (or to hear from you if you are a dominant, aggressive, demanding Master who likes to keep his slaves naked and collared lol ) at ALL TIMES. GWMSUB4DOMGAM@yahoo.com.
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