When Master Calls 14
These largely true stories are based on my own experiences. I enjoy readers' comments, please keep sending them! And don't forget that Nifty depends on your generosity to keep us all entertained.
Master's next call was early one morning but He didn't need me until afternoon, at times like this i spend the rest of the day dizzy with anticipation, it's difficult to concentrate while i'm thinking about what He may have in mind. Will i be humiliated, perhaps in front of His friends like the time i had to fuck myself with a cucumber while they jeered and laughed? Will He want to punish me so much that i cry for mercy? Much as i crave the lash there are times when i have to beg Master to go easy with His use of the belt or riding crop -- times when i feel i've disappointed Him - and what can be worse for a true sub than letting Master down, that red-faced shame and sense of failure? Or will this be the time Master decides to carry out His threat, more of a promise really, to piss over me for the first time? Oh the wait!
I fuss around from room to room but can't settle. I think about the week since i last saw Him, will there be anything to confess? Though i am sometimes disobedient i pride myself on my honesty and could never lie in His presence; somehow i feel He can see right inside me! Unauthorised masturbation has always been a problem but i am working to control it -- yes, this week i had managed to obey His will, no jerking off and not even playing with my little dicklet! I keep checking the phone, is there another text with further instructions? Sometimes He's really strict about what i have to wear, but no -- nothing. I make coffee and almost knock over the cup as i flit about and fidget, my mind darting from the desire to check for more messages to worrying about what to wear if He sends no orders. Will i be able to take the pain He chooses to dispense? And so on and on like an overexcited child badly in need of direction. At times like these it is brought home to me just how much i need direction: direction and correction, the clear mind and firm hand of a real man, a true master.
The true slave of course has no expectations. The true slave has learnt to take what it must, it must obey; but again my mind was buzzing away, wondering if this would be the day for Master's piss. Master's piss is all i can think of right now. He has often talked of pissing over me but as yet He hasn't. I imagine the scene, me stretched out in the bath, gazing up at His splendid cock, easing back His foreskin He lets the precious liquid flow and it rains all over my body, hot as it splashes on my skin, with me trying to guess where it will hit next, it sprays up and down my torso, a thrilling sensation as it washes over me before pooling on the enamel of the bathtub where it cools. I turn my body sideways, any ways, without any dignity, like an animal after long awaited rain, so as not to lose any of the contact, wallowing and splashing, dipping my fingers into the shallow troughs and puddles of the yellow liquid and bringing them up to my face to wonder and marvel at what i have just been granted, that intimate communion with Master's body. I touch the dripping wet fingers to my face and hair, all the time thanking Master for this gift.
I am now so hard in my underpants and leaking pre-cum, it's been two weeks since Master allowed an orgasm so i try to distract myself from this daydream and remind myself one more time that my expectations are of no consequence. I finish my coffee but thoughts of what will happen later return, like a bitch on heat my whole focus is on making myself His.
Master knows only too well that humiliation can send me into a submissive spin! I both dread it and thrill to it. I have recounted before that He took me to an older man's flat where i was stripped and made to comment on the somewhat shrivelled excuse for a dick that was evident for all to see. He made me tell the man what it was called; hoping to keep some shred of dignity i said "It's my willy, Sir" but of course that would not do for Master. At times like this the only acceptable term is "clit" and Master simply told me to give the correct answer, staring at me while i hesitated, but eventually gave in, and i said the dreaded word, "It's my clit."
The hot flush of shame rose through my neck to colour my face but at the same instant something else changed, my little "clit" stirred, gained in size and stood out in front of me. Perhaps this was even more embarrassing, i felt like a schoolboy caught in the communal showers with a hard on and not able to do anything about it. What with my reluctance to use the correct word and the fact i was due a punishment today for unauthorised masturbation earlier in the week, this was to turn out to be an excruciatingly painful experience, both physically and emotionally. He instructed me to bend forward and pull apart my arse cheeks as His friend took a seat where he could have a good view and the punishment began. Master often uses the belt and the crop, inflicting pain is something He enjoys, but on occasions when the pain is to be punishment for a particular infringement of the rules he likes to make it public, realising how the experience of humiliation before a third person can add to the penalty. The usual protocols were in place of course, no moving, counting every stroke, thanking Master for each one. The first strokes were directly over my obscenely exposed arse hole, applied vertically, then i was instructed to lean further forward and grab my legs as Master let fly with expertly applied lashing across both cheeks, while they made comments about the reddening of my skin and the likelihood of there being lasting welts. To finish there was a further humiliation.
"Tell our friend why you deserved this punishment."
"Er, er.. i was disobedient Sir."
"Yes, and be specific boy!"
"I masturbated without permission Sir."
"Perhaps our friend would like to know what you were thinking about at the time?"
And so the questioning carried on as I revealed my innermost fantasies, of how I had wanked myself off while imagining being degraded as Master's slave, being made to suck off His friends as He called me by my true names -- cocksucker, slut ... .
So the morning passed with musing on these previous encounters with Master and no tasks got done and by the time i was due to leave for Master's house i was almost quivering with excitement, or was it fear?
He lets me in, and as soon as i am behind the door i must strip, having done this i fall to the floor and grovel, abasing myself, trying to be as low as possible physically to match the place i have in this natural order, recognising my place as the subservient before this superior man. Ideally i would have wormed my way beneath His feet. Master moves into His living room, given no instructions i attempt to meld myself into the floor, not even daring to follow with my eyes.
"Here," He calls.
I slither my way towards Him, stopping at His feet. His hand beckons me to stand and with a passionate kiss He embraces me. "Get upstairs, and into the bath."
The moment has come!