When Master Calls, Part 13
Unlike all previous episodes, this is not an account of a real time session with my master, but a reflection on past experiences and the nature of my submission. I hope you enjoy it and please write to me with your thoughts, questions, ideas etc. I love to hear from readers! Please also remember that nifty depends on your financial support to keep us all entertained!
Looking back i see that I've already written12 episodes recounting my service to Master. Recently He called and i wasn't able to respond as i was out of the country for a few days. Absence though can bring advantages and i have taken this opportunity to reflect on Master's role in my life. It's probably necessary for readers to understand that Master and i are not lovers, we each have a man who fulfils that role in our lives. No, the appeal here for me is in His essential, raw masculinity, and i guess for Him it is my need to be subservient.
Master's gifts have been many, His very presence bestows an honour and changes the dynamic of my day. In fact there is only one focus, and my own petty concerns dribble away. And what is that focus? How do i understand it and how do i show my devotion?
I dislike religious language, but devotion is i suppose the right word, it implies a concentration of thought, a rigid control of will and a ruthless exclusion of other matters. I've described before how i prepare myself to be in His presence, the prostration on the floor, usually naked, listening for His approach and straining to empty my mind of anything other than service to Him. My first experience of Him is usually, of course, His feet. He knows that they are all i will be able to see as He enters the house, my head lifts slightly, tortoise like, stretching the neck, to catch a glimpse of His shoes as He walks past and behind me. If i am lucky He may command me to turn, crawl and edge my body to where He is now sitting. Twice He's commanded me to remove the shoes and socks and it is difficult to explain the joy i gain from tackling this humble service: pulling off the shoes, placing them reverently on the ground, exactly side by side; and then the stretch of the socks as i ease my fingers under the fabric behind the ankle and pull each forward under the heel with that sudden release of tension, then slip each one off allowing the strong, sweaty stink of this working Man's feet to rise into the room. My dicklet becomes hard, i am allowed to look up and Master smiles! The aroma of a true man, and His smile! What gifts!
So this is one example of how Master helps me focus at the beginning of a session, it is appropriate and measured, small gestures at, literally, the lowest level! I wonder at His wisdom, the ability to pace and direct my service. And always the eternal paradox of the Master/sub interaction -- as His inferior i think only of His needs, but in all He does He shows a supreme awareness of my own need to serve. Thus His body becomes an essential part of my experience, without it i cannot be complete.
Yes, Master elicits my devotion in so many ways. His needs are great, in satisfying them one must struggle sometimes and in this struggle too i find clarity of purpose and pride in my submission. Take His treatment of my nipples for example. Early in a session Master will often squeeze and stretch them, He loves to do it and can work on one nipple for five minutes at a time. The stimulation for me is immense and i find myself willing Him (silently of course!) to move to the next stage where He will take one in His mouth. He will at first lick and suck and then, without warning, bite hard. As i write this i feel a hard on in my pants, it turns me on so much, but the actual pain can be excruciating. He insists i look Him in the eye as He bites, perhaps bite is not the word, and chew is more apt! And when He releases my tit what do i do? Well naturally i thrust my other one towards Him, i offer myself freely, almost boastfully claiming His attention. His gift of pain, it's so reciprocal, through His efforts i am able to offer back my suffering
What pleases Master, as i have testified in earlier stories, must please me, otherwise there is no fulfilment; that doesn't mean that W/we both tend to enjoy the same activities. What it does mean is that i must challenge myself to obey, learn to take what He offers and then learn to gain pleasure from it precisely because it is His will. This can be quite a complex process. Let me give an example. It is sometimes His pleasure to squeeze my balls. I tend to know when this is coming because He comes up close face to face, He may even kiss me deeply before slipping his hand between my legs just as He probes His tongue beyond my lips. If i haven't done so already i know this is a signal to open them wider to give Him free access. The moment has its own special thrill, not least because i know the pain will be hard to take but i resolve within myself not to cry out this time. This tension between begging to stop and resolving to take it all is like a fine, taut line, it is a line which marks how far i have come in my journey of submission and sometimes it's a line i'm unable to cross.. He squeezes gently at first, increasing the pressure as He talks, maybe asking me questions about my week, about my failings perhaps, my weakness for masturbation when He is absent, or maybe He just asks me to describe the pain. Almost imperceptibly it increases and to hide my fears i may close my eyes - but not for long as Master won't allow it, He loves to see my abject submission and feels that by closing my eyes i am somehow distancing myself from His gifts. He wants total, direct contact, His hand, my balls, my eyes on His, unfaltering in a kind of circular communication. I may cry, i may sob, i may scream, Master is happy for me to express myself freely in these ways; but will i beg Him to stop? Well yes, occasionally, so how can i say that this is my pleasure too? I know He will not go too far so the urge to beg Him to stop is not really justified. I know i have taken all of this pain before, so again why beg? And i know that it pleases Him so much. If my purpose is to please, why beg for it to end? But when the pressure increases just a little more and i throw my head backwards, breaking the gaze is this the moment of failure? Sometimes, yes. But other times a peace and calm suddenly descend, i then give myself freely to the pain, live in its fierce heat and find a home there responding directly to Master's touch, a circle of being, part of one single unit, one flesh, i find His gaze again, He smiles, and i am grateful for being part of His purpose, satisfying his needs in the truest most visceral way possible: the receptacle of His desire, filling me with nothing but devotion.
It certainly isn't easy, as the last example may suggest, and there are other ways in which Master can challenge. More recently He is gaining an interest in humiliation. He likes to humiliate me in two specific ways. As i've mentioned in some of the earlier accounts Master regards my penis as small, so who am i to disagree? In fact i believe it to be average but when compared with Master's it is indeed insignificant. I have taken to referring to it as my willy, much like a child would, though Master is happier with the term dicklet or even, clit, a term i can't abide. Of course i am made to repeat whichever term Master chooses and especially so if there is another man present. For some reason when Master has another sub with U/us He loves to compare size and length, and for some reason too on such occasions my little willy remains soft and floppy or at best half hard, The other sub is then invited to comment on it, worse even, i too am ordered to comment, to reflect on my inadequacy and to admire a `real' cock. I had never imagined that a grown man could blush, but blush is what i do at these times while Master and His other sub smirk and laugh.
The other kind of humiliation concerns being a bystander as Master plays with another man. Once I had to grease the new sub's hole, put the condom on Master and carefully place my head on the bed between the sub's legs -- he was on all fours -- while Master fucked him doggy style. I was allowed to lick at the sub's dick as Master's powerful thrusts pistoned just above my face. As a reward for this service Master allowed me to remove the condom and let the copious amounts of spunk run all over my face! I had been privy to an intimate moment, watching Master's sexual activity at the closest of quarters, and the privilege sends my head spinning. My eyes have been millimetres from Master's cock as it enters this young man's arsehole, an intimate witness to His pleasure. Such a gift, and followed by the ultimate gift, master's precious seed.
For all the symbolism and ritual in my interactions with Master i have to confess it is in the giving of seed that i most rejoice. I may be kneeling like a communicant, mouth open, tongue slightly forward as He prepares to deposit ropes of His hot jism. It may be that He chooses to spray His seed over me as I lie on the floor, bestriding me like a conqueror. Or on occasion He will use a shirt or my underwear as a cum rag, instructing me to wear the item as i leave. The life giving moisture, the smell, the initial warmth give comfort and validation. I am worthy of His sperm and rejoice in it.
And, of course, the ultimate submission for any bottom, and for me the most precious of encounters with Master is to be fucked. If Master chooses to fuck me He insists on my lying beneath Him. The thought of His cock entering me sends shivers of anticipation, sometimes my body shakes, will i be able to take it all? Always Master senses my anxiety and soothes me with gentle words, instructing me to take deep breaths, to imagine the sense of fulfilment once He is inside, and i begin to crave, to long for the moment He is fully there claiming me as a part of Him as His body extends itself inside my own. As i take Him deep inside me, surrendering my very guts to His desire it is still not enough: i must keep His gaze and keep my mouth open; look directly into His eyes and be ready for His smile; and be ready to receive His spit as He claims my mouth in one final gesture of humiliation. Thank You Master, when You call again i will be whole.