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My Master Stephen - Homo B&D story in 4 parts (1/4
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
My Master Stephen
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Section: 1/4
When I was 21, two years ago, I had a master. Stephen owned me. For over a
year, the goal of my existence was to please Stephen. I was happy whenever
I was able to make Stephen happy.
I was working a boring day job in New York City. I had to work from 9 to 5,
but the rest of my time was Stephen's. Beginning on the night we met -- the
day after my 21st birthday -- he had complete control of me.
We met at a leather bar in the West Village. I was standing, drinking a
beer, awestruck by the beauty of Stephen's physique. He was wearing chaps
and a plain white T-shirt which was stretched across his incredible bulging
pecs. Every time he moved, the light in the bar highlighted a different set
of muscles in his arms. I tried not to stare; I felt like I needed his
permission to look at him, since it gave me so much pleasure.
I really hoped he would notice me. I was wearing a dog collar, a ripped
T-shirt, some old torn jeans and a pair of big black boots. I had been
working out a lot, and I had just spent a few days on the beach, so I
thought I was looking pretty good.
It was getting late, and I was almost ready to give up and go home when,
suddenly, He appeared in front of me. My heart started racing; I felt a
rush of adrenalin. The beautiful body which I had been lusting after all
night was -- all of a sudden -- almost close enough for me to lick.
He asked me my name. I told him,``Greg,'' as I looked in to his eyes for
the first time. He had deep blue eyes and beautiful, full lips. I hoped I
would sometime earn the privilege to kiss those lips.
I asked his name. This seemed to annoy him. After a minute of looking me
over, He responded, ``That's not important; now turn around.''
I would have done anything He asked. I turned around. He grabbed my hands,
pulled them behind my back and handcuffed them together. Then He turned me
around and ripped my T-shirt off my body and threw it down. He checked out
my body for a minute, following the lines of my muscles with his forefinger.
Then He pulled out a pair of tit clamps and put them on my nipples. I could
hardly help wimpering they hurt so much.
He noticed the leash I was wearing as a belt. ``Good thinking,'' He told me,
as He smiled at me and pulled the leash off my waist and attached it to my
collar.
My back was against a wall, and He was just inches in front of me. He
grabbed a hold of the leash and pulled on my neck as he pressed his knee into
my crotch. He pulled me so close to him that his lips touched my ear as he
spoke to me.
``I saw you looking at me before, scum. From now on, you will look at me
only when I allow you to.'' His knee was pressing up so hard on my crotch
that my feet came off the ground.
``Yes, sir,'' I said, barely managing to speak while enduring the pain.
He noticed my throbbing 8'' hard-on through my jeans and said, ``Well, looks
like you get off on being abused. We'll just have to see how much you can
take, scum. I think I'll take you home with me and beat your ass for a
while. If you're very good, I might decide to fuck you.''
I could hardly get any words out; I whispered, ``Please, sir.'' He snapped
back, ``I didn't ask you whether you wanted to go or not, scum. Now, you've
lost the privilege to speak to me. Not another word -- understand?''
I nodded and looked straight ahead.
He backed off a little then led me to another part of the bar, where he
tied my leash to a post. He left me for a few minutes. I'm not sure where
he went; I didn't dare watch him.
Several men stopped to check me out, pulling on the tit-clamps, or squeezing
my still-throbbing hard-on. I couldn't wait for Him to return and get me out
of there.
After a little while, he came back, untied the leash and dragged me out of
the bar. There I was, in plain view of every car driving down the West
Side Highway; I had no shirt on, tit clamps attached to my nipples, my arms
handcuffed behind my back, and a dog collar around my neck. I was scared
shitless that a car full of thugs would see me, pull over and beat the hell
out of me; I wouldn't exactly have been able to fight back.
He led me down the street with the leash. I couldn't believe he was making me
walk down the street like that. We walked most of the way to his apartment
along Christopher Street, so at least most of the people on the street
weren't all that surprised by what they saw. However, almost everyone we
passed made comments. Several people barked at me, a small group of Puerto
Rican teenagers jeered at me for a couple of blocks, and one passer-by even
tugged on my tit clamps, causing me to yelp loudly.
Finally, we got to his place. He led me up the stairs and made me wait,
facing the wall outside his apartment while he went inside to get something.
He came out, stood behind me and pulled a leather hood over my head.
He spent a few minutes lacing it up, so it was really tight. It felt
strange at first, but I grew to enjoy the feel of it. He snapped a
nose and a slit over my mouth. He left my mouth uncovered.
When he finished putting the hood on me, he dragged me inside.
He pulled me into a far corner of the apartment. I had to step over a
piece of wood which I later found out was part of a big frame which he was
going to attach me to. He made me stand spread eagle with my arms up in the
air and my legs spread. Then he attached leather straps to my wrists and
ankles and attached chains to them so I couldn't move from the spread eagle
position. He strapped something onto my head around the hood and attached it
to the ceiling, so I couldn't move my head. Then he whispered in my ear,
``You know, I can do whatever the fuck I want to you, scum, and you can't do
anything about it.''
He caressed my body for a couple of minutes with his fingertips and then
suddenly yanked on the tit clamps so hard that they came off. It was so
unexpected and so painful that I couldn't help letting out a scream.
He warned me, ``Don't you dare ever make a noise like that again or I'll have
to make sure you can't make any noise.'' I wasn't sure what he meant, but
I tried to keep quiet after that.
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