THE TIES THAT BIND
Waddie Greywolf


CHAPTER 4 ~ The Die Is Cast



Part I ~ Gollywog’s Cock Walk

T’was brillig by the slithy troves,
 Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;    
 All mimsy were the borogroves,
 And the mome raths outgrabe

from Beware the Jabberwocky
Lewis Carroll


We got so drunk that night I don’t remember much. I do remember being carried from room to room impaled on the giant’s cock like a backward papoose.  After I had made a slut of myself by impaling my butt on the giant’s cock, Master Jeb thought it would be great fun to bind us together. He took strips of old inner tubes he cut down to three inch strips and stretched them over and around Big Jim and me. People do the damndest things when they drink, especially with a little killer weed. The strips were just the right diameter to keep us together but had enough stretch to allow some movement. The more strips he stretched around us the more comfortable it became and the happier my hole became. I know there was a silly grin on the other one.

There were two rings on either side of my harness. Master Jeb tied a soft cotton rope to one side, looped it over the giant’s shoulders and back around to the other side of my harness. It was like the harness became a swing and the giant became my tree who’s massive root was growing deep within my red earth. Master Jeb was obsessed with his momentary, kinky creative powers. The design was practical and functional, as well as elegant. Master Jeb crossed my boots behind the giant’s waist and tied them so they wouldn’t come unlocked or fall lower than they’re optimal position to cause my ass to be firmly shunted to the base of Master Jim’s shaft.

It allowed a great deal of movement and control for Master Jim. He put on a show for Master Jeb after he finished his clever bonding work. He showed him how easy it was to fuck their new trainee with his wondrous new reverse-papoose-ambulatory-slave-boy-fuck-machine. He only had to walk.  The give of the rubber and being totally impaled on his huge cock, Big Jim could fuck me non-stop simply by moving from room to room.  Riding Big Jim’s cock was like I climbed aboard a huge beast of the night on the merry-go-round and instead of riding in the saddle someone pulled me onto its cock underneath and tied me there. (I was a strange child.) How did it feel? Not too shabby! I had my arms locked around Big Jim’s neck and my head pressed against the bear fur of his panoramic chest.

My mouth was just the right height to suck his huge brown nipples. I went crazy sucking the flavors from his tits. I felt like Maggie Simpson with a new pacifier. I remember being carried down to the basement and Master Jim laying us down on the leather covered futon making sweet love to me as he fucked me slowly and tenderly. He invited Master Jeb to watch. My soon-to-be new owner brought his beer, took his pants off, sat down in an overstuffed chair, and began to play with his huge fat cock as he watched the show. He seemed to have no problem with us pairing off but I felt guilty. I thought he should share a greater part. I kept suggesting Big Jim might consider letting Master Jeb fuck me for a while; however, we never could have gotten out of the rubber and rope harness.

Master Jeb assured me he would have his time with me and he was enjoying the show.  I begged him to let me have his come as he began to jack off. He was generous enough to let me suck it out of him just as his load was coming up through his fat cock. I barely got my mouth around it to give it a couple of good sucks and my new owner exploded in my mouth so hard it hit the back of my throat. He tasted wonderful. I saved some to roll around in my mouth to get his full essence like a good wine taster might. He kept letting me suck on his cock and I began to pray I was going to get a chaser. My prayer was answered as he gave me a couple of mouths full of his wonderfully flavored recycled beer piss.  It excited me so much with Big Jim fucking me with long, slow, deep strokes and Master Jeb’s big dick exploding in my mouth, drinking his recycled beer, that I came, and came, and came again. Master Jim felt it as my ass spasmed three times while he was taking a long slow inward stroke. I continued to suck on the big head of Master Jeb’s cock as he rubbed my head and Big Jim spoke in a lilting voice,

“Jeb?” Master Jim queried.

“Yes, old friend?”

“I feel warm and sticky around my stomach area.”

“Oh, really? That’s possible.” Jeb replied winking at me. He knew what happened.

“Well my cock is sheathed by a beautiful young slave-boy’s hot little pussy, and I know I didn’t shoot.” He began to play with Jeb for my benefit. I just sucked harder like I was oblivious to their developing conversation.

“Your point being,— ?” Jeb led him on.

“Is there something about our new slave-boy I don’t know and perhaps should?”

“Could you be referring to the unusual fact he’s able to come while being fucked?” Master Jeb chuckled and leaned over to kiss me on the forehead.

“Why am I always the last to be told these things?” Big Jim wailed mockingly.

“Maybe it’s because when you fucked the shit out a’ him the last time he was here, you ordered him not to come and never found out.” He nailed Big Jim to the wall.

“Well,— I can’t fault him for following my orders, and, I suppose, I can’t fault him now. We’ve had a lot to drink, and I’ve been fucking him for several hours. I ain’t gonna’ stop fucking him just because he came. Tightened him up a bit.”

“Master Jim?” I said in a drunken haze.

“Yes, slave boy?” he said trying to make his voice ominous.

“I’m sorry I came without permission. I’ll gladly accept any punishment you feel necessary. You felt so damn good and Master Jeb’s come and piss tasted so good.  I felt so warm and useful having both holes fed at the same time. I let myself go. I wasn’t paying attention and it happened so fast I couldn’t hold it. I realize that’s not a good excuse. No excuse is good enough to justify disobeying your Master. I’m willing to accept any punishment, but I beg you, please don’t deny your slave emptying your big, bull balls into my gut this evening. I would consider it the greatest honor to receive your seed in my hole. The perfect ending to a perfect day.”

“Jeb’s right, slave, you won’t need a great deal of training. You do know the right words to say, so here’s my answer.”  He gently kissed me and kept kissing as he began to increase the urgency of his strokes. I could see Master Jeb in the chair behind Jim giving me a thumbs up and winking at me. He liked to watch Big Jim fuck,— Hell, anybody would. Master Jeb’s old dick was getting fat again watching.   Big Jim switched gears and I was now getting his huge piece of meat slammed into my ass harder and harder, with a steady increasing rhythm and speed. I renewed my sphincter strength. I clamped down harder on  Big Jim’s cock knowing he wanted to open my hole to the feeling he needed.  I knew he would fuck me meaner, harder and faster until he did. I had enough devilment in me I wasn’t going to just give it to him. Damn it! I’d been riding his huge shaft for three hours or more and I felt I deserved a good hard fucking.

I got Big Jim’s number the last time he fucked me, and I was going to make damn sure I got fucked good before I gave it up to him. He seemed to reach a plateau with a good steady rhythm pulling almost all the way out and slamming the entire length into me. Talk about an ‘E’ ticket ride. No man has ever fucked me better. He remained at that level for sometime. It was great, but I wanted to end the day with a bang,— so to speak. He seemed like he had some idea what was happening, but he wasn’t real sure. He continued at one level, it would seem, to wear the pucker out of my hole. I resolved I wanted to be fucked a bit longer and a bit harder so I clamped my ass tighter on his prick. It worked. He was going to get what he needed, or I was going to have to order a retread for my ass. He shifted gears again and started fucking me mean and hard.

The rubber inner tubes would part us then slam us back together in the hardest fuck imaginable. They would return me to the same position each time so Big Jim could get maximum benefit out of each stroke. It was some damn good fucking. Best I ever had to that point. Big Jim was going where no man had gone before. It’s what I wanted, and I was getting it, all of it, hard, fast, and deep. He was doing a bang up job of fucking me and deserved to claim his prize.

“You want it, Master?” I spoke softly and respectfully.

“I’m gonna’ take it away from you, slave.”

“No, Master,— I’m gonna’ give it up to you,— right,— now.”  I relaxed my ass muscle at that moment and felt him increase his stroke. It was what he needed. Now, he was fucking the best part of my ass, his part, the part he worked for, and yet, I was giving it to him.

“This is where we separate the men from the boys my little fuck-slave. I’m your man fucking my man-slave and getting my part of his hot, sweet, ass. I own that hole slave. Whether you give it up or I take it.  I’m always going to get the part of your butt I need, Son. That little ass is mine now slave you’re getting fucked good. I’m plantin’ my flag in you hole,—  right,— NOW!!” He was so damned hot I shot the second time screaming,

“I can’t hold it, Master,— I’m SORRY!” I don’t even think he heard me. He had gone off into his world of climax. His eyes were closed as he threw back his big head. Saliva started flowing from his open mouth while shaking his head from side to side like a wild animal. I was soaked in his spit and body sweat and felt myself spinning in a vortex, falling deeper and deeper in love with Master Jim,— this wild animal. Now I know what Beauty saw in the Beast. If he was anything like Big Jim no wonder she wanted her beast back when she awoke one morning next to a beautiful, fey prince. Poor thing, she probably screamed at the top of her voice when she realized,

“My, God! I’ll never get fucked like that again.” She immediately started running through the palace looking for a razor blade.  She was sure life wouldn’t be worth the living anymore. Once you’ve been fucked by a man who lets the animal within him come through in his sex you can never go back to polite, vanilla sex. Poor Beauty, I know how she felt. Master Jim collapsed on top of me and rolled us onto our sides as I kissed around his face thanking him for the good fucking. I told him how proud and honored I felt to have his load in my gut. He grumbled something about a fucking slave boy three steps ahead controlling a Master, harrummpp,— some things to work out,— as he gently kissed me then drifted off to sleep from the demi-mort of climax.

I didn’t have much choice, but I was glad I got to lay all night and sleep, locked in the arms of this wild animal with his savage fuck pole safely locked away in my slammer. I awoke a few times and took a couple of good strokes on it, wiggled my boy butt down to the base, and drifted off to sleep again. Big Jim would pull me close in his big arms and kiss me on top of my head. The last thing I remember was a tender kiss from Master Jeb as he left for bed.

“Bull Dog Butch the giant killer. You’re a piece of work boy and you are so welcome to our world. Sleep well in the arms of your gentle giant.” whispered Master Jeb to me.

“I love you, Master Jeb.”

“I believe you, Son,  and whether you know it or not you’re teaching this old man to learn to love again. Thank you for that. Goodnight, my beautiful, new slave-boy.”

“G’nite,  Master Jeb.”

Master Jim and I slept locked together in Master Jeb’s impromptu harness. The giant would move, and I had no option but to move with him. I woke up once lying on the giant’s chest on a soft bed of bear fur and lay my head back down to be lulled back into a peaceful sleep by the rhythm of his big heart. I was lost. I sank beneath the surface for the third time from which there was no recovery. I wasn’t kidding myself, I knew he would rip his own heart out and see me sold at auction rather than tell his true feelings to his friend.  So much for my plans of playing it cool. Here we were bound together for the night. Close enough to breathe each other’s breath. Was Master Jeb trying to tell us something by tying us together?  Big Jim was sharp enough to think about it but never questioned Jeb. I began to see Big Jim was as much in love with me as I was with him.

Actions speak louder than words. Since my return to Mt. Washington, as gruff as he tried to be I could just look at him, without a word, and a funny little smile would work its way across his incredibly ugly, misshapen, ruggedly handsome, drop dead, wonderfully masculine face. He was the kind of man who had no concept of his own attraction and wouldn’t bother to listen to someone describe him as good looking. Words like that were meaningless to him, not because he was stupid, but because he always depended on his size to be a drawing card. It proved to be an effective tool at intimidating folks to see things his way. It also kept people at a distance. He didn’t have to be good or bad looking, he just was,— the giant. He chose very few people to share his private thoughts and invited even fewer into his world. Only two men knew very much about Big Jim. His past was a mystery to all but one and that was Jeb.

He did not and could not intimidate me, which sent him in conflicting orbits. He wanted to control me, but knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Every old trick he tried was meeting with failure. His size would make most slaves and a lot of Masters cringe at the rifle snap of his huge fingers. I obeyed him, did all he asked without hesitation, but down deep inside he felt it was only because I was falling deeply in love with him I gave into most of his games. What he didn’t know, the key to his most puzzling conundrum was that in my reality, I all ready was his slave.  He didn’t have to do anything to win the battle. He was the victor. He  won. Like Vercengetorix,  I lost  to win. It was the only battle of Julius Ceasar’s Gallic campaign Ceasar lost;  however, he didn’t actually lose, he conceded.  He saw a drop dead, good looking Gall general on a hard charging and spirited white stallion.
 
It was love at first sight, at least on Caesar’s part.  He sent his messengers to Vercentgetorix to tell him if he would come across the river, have dinner with Caesar (nothing fancy, he was just whipping up one of his famous salads) and spend the night in Caesar’s tent, he would give the battle to Vercengetorix, spare his people and install him as Roman Magistrate. He did and Caesar kept his word.  He became a great leader of his people.  However, later in his life he traveled to Rome and was stabbed to death by rival political factions who wanted a Roman put in charge of his people.

I conceded  the war and my slave’s soul to Big Jim.  He owned it. I gave my heart, in all good faith, to Master Jeb for training. My heart is my faith, my trust, my confidence, and my joy in life and others. Master Jim was ever more fascinated by little things he was finding out about me. Every time he thought he had me figured out, all programed macros in place and working, something would occur that would reset his computer to default. (Much like Microsoft’s operating systems.) All he had to do was ask. As I saw it, it was his job to find out, not mine to take a funnel and pour it in his ear. My place, the battle won, was to let him find his way to become my Caesar. He admitted to Jeb that weekend if he hadn’t made a promise to him he would be in over his head.  I began to realize he, too,  was suffering as much as I. While he was still firm in his resolve, I was becoming less threatened by it and that threw him.

There are some waters deep enough to drown even a giant. My own bull headed resolve was, I made the right decision to enter training under Master Jeb. Big Jim secretly felt if I truly cared about him I’d be begging him to reconsider and talk to Jeb. I didn’t. I acted like I fully understood I would be sold;  I was fully adjusted to the fact and comfortable with it,  case closed.  I offered him no comfort, other than to serve him unquestioningly. That threw him, too. If I was in love with him, as much as he felt, then I should be pouting, resentful, and slow to do his bidding. I wasn’t. I served him with good humor and love. If he wouldn’t talk about what was happening between us, then I damn sure wasn’t either. I refused to be a sniveling slave boy begging him for his love. I may be a slave in all its meaning and purpose but I was also a human being with fears, hopes, desires, fantasies, and needs. You can’t breed basic needs out of a dog and you damn sure won’t find a switch on the back of a man to turn those things off. They’re default settings put there by a computer programmer much higher than you or me. I wanted to become the best of slaves. Whoever became my Master would be served by me like no other. I may feel comfortable, learn to care about a Master enough, to give him my heart but no man will ever own my soul unless I choose to give it.

As a Master you can order a slave to do your will. You have choices to be cold, rejecting, debasing, unjustly punish, humiliate, or break your word, to your slave. You can break his spirit, play havoc with his psyche and his soul, but what will you end up with? A fawning, frightened, insecure, guilt ridden, untrustworthy, subhuman mirror of your on insecurities. Or, you can become a Master who leads by example in the truest sense of the word. A Master, by definition, is a teacher or one who exhibits strong influence or control in shaping another’s life. You can be as strict a disciplinarian as you wish; it will do him good; a well-disciplined slave is a happy slave. It says to him you care enough to shape him into a better person.

You may remain aloof, but you must ultimately care for or even show him love. You don’t have to be demonstrative or overly emotional about it. If you choose  to show him affection once in a while it will only bond you stronger. He’ll know you love him by the way you care for him and your pride in his development.  Anyone can beat a dog, and it will still come back. You’re all he has, and you do provide some sense of belonging no matter how small. However, a well disciplined, well trained dog, doesn’t need you fawning over him. He knows you care about him and love him by the way you care for him. Should you do less for your slave, a human pet, to provide for him what he needs, and invest the time and effort  to produce something you’ll be proud to own?

What then, did I want from Big Jim?  Does a slave have a right to expect anything?  Even a dog learns to expect certain things from his owner. If you don’t want an animal to expect  things don’t set precedents. I only wanted Master Jim to try for a love he knew existed. As a new, untrained slave it wasn’t my place.  He wouldn’t try. To make an effort and fail would’ve been enough justification for wanting me to love him.

We lay together the next morning still entwined like ‘Lacoon’ the Greek sculpture of a father and his sons entwined with a giant snake. (Try one up your butt all night.) No complaints. Every slave should experience it at least once. My Master woke before me. I was laying on his massive hairy chest, and he started playing with my hair to gently wake me. He felt like shit, so did I, but he struggled to see the humor in our predicament.

“If I didn’t know better I might think Jeb planned this.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,  Master.”

“You love Jeb. You’d stick up for him.” He kidded me.

“Yes, I do, Master Jim, he’s a good man.”

“Yeah, he is, kid,— he’s been damn good to me. Well,— I guess we’ll just haf’ta wait for him to wake up to get out of this infernal contraption. Damn! It seemed like such a good idea last night.”  Big Jim resolved.

“It was a great idea,— still is.” I said as I wiggled my butt back down on his shaft. I felt it starting to grow inside me.

“I gotta piss like a race horse, slave.” the giant spoke.

“Since when does a Master need permission to empty into his slave’s butt?” I yanked Big Jim’s chain.

“Oh, yeah,— me Master,— you slave. Thanks for reminding me, boy.”  He kissed me good morning as he let go inside me. I’m glad he was getting erect again as he made a bigger stopper for my ass. The more I bit down on his dick so it wouldn’t leak, the harder he became. Thank God, Master Jeb came down the stairs to the dungeon about that time and released us from our bonds. He wickedly loaded on the stereo the chorus,”Let us break their bonds asunder” from Handel’s Messiah.  His, not too subtle humor,  was not lost on Big Jim and I. Some jokes are unforgivable. We had a good laugh which didn’t do much for our heads. We were finally free.  Master Jim picked me up, carried me to the shower area in the dungeon and gently pulled out. I didn’t leak a drop and made one giant leap for the toilet where I proceeded to give way to  much giant piss.

I found myself transferring my affection and need to serve to Master Jeb. I sensed he deeply needed the services of an empathetic slave-boy,— that is,— when I could keep my mouth off of Big Jim’s boots. Big Jim accused me of loving his boots more than him and made the mistake of asking me. I told him if he cared about me he should never stop wearing his big boots. He looked confused, then hurt, then threw back his head in laughter, knowing I was yanking his chain.

“Damn you, Bull Dog, you’re gonna’ be the death of this old giant yet.”

I had several opportunities to be alone with Master Jeb over the weekend. We were on a new level of communication. I would sit at his feet and discuss things about the coming period of training. I would often grab him around his legs, lay my head on his knees, and he would rub my head to assure me of his affection and sincerity. I had a few concerns and told him things I specifically requested he not share with Big Jim. I explained that while I knew they were the closest of friends, brothers even, I would appreciate the ability to tell him some things in confidence. He seemed almost relieved I asked that bond of him and assured me he would abide by my wishes. I asked him if he knew about the harness and plug and he said ‘no.’

“I mean no disrespect, and I’m not complaining, Master Jeb, but that wasn’t my original contract with you.”

“I know, Son, I know.  You’re right,— but, I did place you under Jim’s control so he had that right as your temporary Master.”

“I’m just trying to understand, Master Jeb.”

“Nothing wrong with that. It would seem, from what you’ve told me, it didn’t do him much good.” He laughed.

“No, Sir, but I want you to understand if I request him to leave it on me. While I’ll be doing it to please him, I have my own reasons. I don’t want to say more about it right now.”

“I can’t expect you to reveal everything in your heart right away, Son. I’m truly pleased at the progress you’ve made this week. I think you’ve slain some personal dragons.”

“Master Jeb?”

“Yes, slave boy?”

“I like it when you call me that, but what I wanted to say is, I wasn’t so drunk last night I don’t remember what I told you before we said goodnight and I meant it.” He bent over and kissed the top of my head.

“I know, but we’ll grow closer in time. I look forward to it, I welcome it. I may never tell you I love you, but you’ll know.”

“I understand, Master.”

“By the way, Big Jim was a little disturbed by Officer Earl D.’s attention to you.  Officer Shaw is a fine Master. One of the best. He lost his slave three years ago and hasn’t had the heart to take another.  I told him when the time was right he would have the right slave boy drop into his life unexpectedly. From his interest in you, I think he believed me. What is the mathematical probability of your meeting being a chance occurrence?”

“Don’t know, Sir, but I agree he’s a damn, fine looking man.  One of the best looking men I’ve ever see.”

“I couldn’t help notice he gave you his card. You wanna’ tell me about it?”  I described in detail our encounter and my faux pax blurting out my request to clean his boots. He asked me to call and set up an appointment to clean them for him. He asked me to wear my leathers.”

“You going to?” Master Jeb asked.

“I don’t know, Sir, do you think I should? I won’t if you don’t want me to or it’s not proper etiquette;  however, he did do me a favor. I feel I owe him that much!”

“Indeed you do, slave. I would encourage you to but let’s keep it between us, okay?  Officer Shaw is one Hell of a good, solid man and is well thought of in our community. His last slave was killed in a  plane crash going back to visit his adopted dad and grandparents in some small jerk water town that only had commuter flights connecting to the main terminal in Atlanta. On a rainy, stormy night the little two prop plane went down. No survivors.  Earl D. damn near went crazy. We had to have someone with him around the clock for about six weeks until he started pulling out of it. Talk about a Master/slave bond. You could do worse than Earl D. Shaw for a Master, Son.  He has a dick to make most men cry with envy; bigger’n me, boy.  He’s originally from the Louisiana bayou country; half Cajun; fair complexion, jet black hair and lavender eyes. The most startling eyes you ever looked into.”

“He had his sunglasses on the whole time I was with him.”

“Yeah, that’s part of his persona. Makes him look bad.”

“No argument there. He was baaaad!” I said. We both laughed,  “Well, if you think it’ll be all right I’ll give him a call. He probably won’t remember me.”

“Are you kidding, he wanted me to contact him when you were put on the market. He may be interested in buying you. Yes, you call and be on your best behavior. He’s a stickler for slave manners. He’s hard, demanding, (more for his slaves betterment) and pretty rough in the dungeon;  however, he’s sane and doesn’t take a slave further than he knows he can go. Damn right, give him a call; be good for both of you.  I’ve heard rumors from our family he hasn’t been with anyone since his slave was killed. His slave was Jim’s nephew.”

“I’ll call him,  Master Jeb.”

“I’ll expect a full report.” Master Jeb said demandingly.

“You shall have it, Sir!” I said curtly and we laughed again.

“We’ve enjoyed having you this weekend and you’re welcome every weekend until your thirty days are up. I’ll understand if you can’t. You may be busy getting rid of stuff. Now,— you’re not going to change your mind are you?”

“Master Jeb, do you doubt me?”

“Okay, even an old Master can say something stupid.”

“You’re not old, you’re prime to me.” He started laughing

“You know? You just may kill that giant yet.” We laughed at his joke. I walked over to the sofa and got something out of my saddle bags and handed it to him.

“What’s this?” Master Jeb said looking at a small wooden box. It was an old wine box a couple of bottles of good wine came in. I sanded it down, lacquered it, and finished it. I wired the top to the bottom and sealed it with melted plastic and a ring stamp with my initials. You had to break the seal and undo the wire to get it open. It had a small hasp and lock as well.

“May I leave this in your care.”

“Of course, Son, what’s in it?”

"Will you trust me if I tell you it’s nothing that might cause trouble, like dope. It’s just some personal papers and stuff about my past that isn’t bad;  I just don’t care for anyone to know about. If anything should happen to me you have my permission to open it. There are two documents that are signed by me and notarized. One is Power of Attorney and the other is Medical Power of Attorney if I should need a medical decision made and I’m unable. I don’t want my family involved. You decide the disposition of the rest of the contents, give them away, or keep them for yourself if you want them.”

“No problem, Son, I must have fifteen or twenty trunks in the attic with slave’s names on them. We’ll get one for you and you can store some stuff here. It will always be available to you. You’ll want to keep your leathers. Some Masters may want you to wear them, some won’t. Some will want you nude in private all the time but might want you to wear them when you go out.  While you’re here you’ll be just like you are now. I’m a dirty old man and like to look at your hot, butch bottom body. After you work out with Jim for three months you won’t recognize yourself in the mirror.”

I told Master Jeb about Jake,  my Dad. I told him how it all came about and I thought Master Jeb was going to bust a gut laughing at my retelling of how Jake fucked me with his big boot not knowing I had a big plug in my butt.

“I know you’re not lying because it’s too bizarre not to be true.” Then he laughed again. I told him about my concerns, not for me but for Jake and how my leaving work might affect him.

“Well,— you know, Son, you don’t have to cut him off.”

“How’s that, Sir?”

“He thinks you have a daddy who keeps a harness on you and a plug in your ass. Well,— it’s the truth. Now you do. You could introduce me as your daddy. He’s certainly welcome to come over here and use you if he wants.”

“Damn, that would be great. He said he’d like to meet my daddy but then my daddy was a fantasy of Big Jim. I had to create some story for wearing the harness and plug.”

“You were thinking on your feet, and you did well to protect his feelings. That couldn’t be bad. Do you enjoy him fucking you?”

“Woah!! Yes, Sir! In a way, Master Jeb, he’s become the father I never had and I love him. Not as a Master but as family. Oh Hell,— I’m not making sense.”

“Yes, you are, you’re making a lot of sense. It’s unbelievable the difference in your thought processes from last Friday evening to this weekend. You’ve come far, Son. You seem more at peace with yourself.”

“I hope so, Master Jeb,— my existence depends on it.”

“I’m not sure I understand, Son?”

“It’s not important, Master.” I said as I grabbed him around his legs and squeezed. It was Sunday afternoon late, and my time on Mount Washington was coming to an end. Master Jim was gone for a while. When he returned Master Jeb told him he decided I was to continue wearing the harness and plug. It would be good pre-training for me. Master Jeb slipped me a key to the lock on the harness with orders not to use it unless someone whose boots I might happen to be cleaning wished to remove it. Wink-wink! I assured him I wouldn’t. I didn’t want to leave and almost cried as I hugged both Master Jim and Jeb. How had these two men become so important to my life in a little over one week’s time?

Big Jim was affectionate and kissed me goodbye. He again saw me to my bike, but I was on top of the situation this time and in good spirits. I knew I would be seeing him again next weekend so my heart wasn’t so heavy. I also formed a deeper relationship with Master Jeb that helped buffer my frustrations. I hadn’t really figured that factor into my fears and rationales when making up my mind about going into slave training. It was an unexpected but decided plus.

I had a fleeting moment I suppressed to throw myself at Big Jim’s feet and eat those damned boots of his one more time before I rode away. I was better now. Things began to take on new perspectives for me, and everything was not as urgent as it once was. It felt strange to ride away from people and a lifestyle I was beginning to think of as normal and head back to the crazy world of my everyday life.


PART II ~ Descent Into The Valley of Smoke

“Anyone lived in a pretty how town,
with up so floating many bells down
he sang his didn’t he danced his did”
e. e. cummings

Los Angeles has always had a smog problem; always,— even before the white man. During the late summer the valley was know by the Indians to have massive brush fires covering the valley basin with smoke. The name they gave the area meant ‘Valley of smoke.’ Mt. Washington was a little higher elevation and missed some of the smog. Coming down off the mountain I descended into a brownish thick air that burned my eyes and hurt my throat. ‘This shit couldn’t be good for you,’ I thought.

I got home, read my mail, fed the cat and threw my clothes off to relax. I reached for the phone and dialed Mt. Washington. Master Jeb answered.

“Master Jeb?”

“You all right, Son?”

“Oh, yes, Sir, I just got in and started to relax.  I wanted to call and thank you for my extension Friday. In the excitement and confusion of Friday evening, I may have forgotten to thank you. I also wanted to thank you for the weekend and to let you know, I all ready miss you.”

“Damn, Son, what a’ ya' trying to do? Rip this old man’s heart out?” Master Jeb said laughing.  “I want you to start thinking of this place as your home and you’re welcome here anytime. If you want to ride up for an evening. Come on! If you can we’d love to have you back next weekend. I think you did thank me, but after you told me why you needed the extension I felt it certainly was for a good reason. You couldn’t just leave your dad when he needed you. You tell him you spoke with your daddy, he gets back next week, and is looking forward to meeting the good man who was thoughtful enough to help keep my little boy satisfied. Tell him I said he’d be doing me a great favor to make sure you’re well fucked.  By the way, I miss you, too. You have a good week, Son, and let us hear from you.”

“I will, Master Jeb,— goodnight.” Master Jeb was quickly becoming family; much like Jake. I felt a deep affection for him growing day by day. I thought about how much notice I should give Sam at work. I didn’t want to let anyone know yet. Two weeks is standard. I’ll notify them on the fifteenth. I didn’t want to have to dodge Jake’s natural curiosity for more than two weeks as to why and where I was going.  He knew me well enough by now to tell if I was blowing smoke up his ass. I was afraid of what the news might do to him. He grew to depend on me at work to bring his spirits up, to do the good fellows bit, and lately to do clean up jobs the other mechanics fucked up. I decided I would tell Jake first, the Friday before telling Sam the following Monday.

I bought heavily into stock options the company offered and needed to find out whether they should be cashed or held on to. I was making more money than I needed to live on and managed to build up a pretty nice savings account.  I thought, later, I might want to buy a home. I had eighteen thousand in savings. I kept more money in my checking account than I should. I would deposit my pay checks to checking and when it became a high balance would move funds to savings. Hell, I hadn’t transferred any funds in a while and had eight thousand in that account. Then there was the long term account I took out when in Nam and added my severance pay to it. Some clerk screwed up and I got extended on my first tour of duty eighteen months. The regs stated only RA & RN (regular army & regular navy) were to be extended. I was drafted which made me a reservist. They extended me anyway. Then I shipped over after that for another hitch.

When I got out some sharp yeoman/disbursing clerk caught the error and the regs stated if any man was retained in the military due to error, the government had the responsibility to pay him compensatory what he would be making on the outside for that period of time in regard to his education level. I received an M.A. degree the same day I received my draft notice. They had to pay me twenty three thousand dollars. That was a lot of money in 1965. I sunk all but three thousand in a long term interest bearing account. So I had total money assets of close to fifty thousand. That certainly would be enough to start over again if necessary. I also collected rare coins and had about three thousand invested. I decided to hang on the coins and put them in the trunk. That evening I began making a neat pile of things in a corner of my living room I absolutely could not part with. It was to be no bigger than I though a trunk might hold. There really wasn’t much. I didn’t have a lot of “things.”

The only other thing I had to think of getting rid of was my bike, Pegasus.  My 1966 BSA Mark III with dual carbs. I knew what I was going to do with it. Jake admired it and helped me work on it in the shop when things were slow. I bought a complete set of Wentworth tools to work on it. British didn’t use SAE nor Metric. They had their own standard called Wentworth. Go figure?  Jake would never be able to buy a bike for himself because of his family. There was never enough money for everything they needed. Maybe that would cushion the blow of me leaving. I wanted Jake to have it. Hell, it ought a’ be good for at least a couple more fucks, I thought,  laughing to myself.

I forgot about my tools. I had a small fortune invested in mechanic’s tools. I bought a lot of single purpose tools.  I’d have to take that one up with Master Jeb. Some Master might want a competent mechanic for a slave-boy. Not only could I suck him off, I could lube his crankcase and adjust his linkage at the same time. I was pleased with my joke. I thought to myself more seriously, ‘Wouldn’t that be a selling point?’  That idea needed Master Jeb’s counsel.  At least I had a workable plan. I would be fine. I was growing stronger in my conviction I was doing the right thing and fear seemed to be diminishing by inverse proportion.



Part III ~ Nine to Five

“She works hard for the money”
Tina Turner

I looked forward to work Monday morning. I even woke up early and got my act together. I thought I’d surprise Jake and get to work early; maybe I could give him a hand. I fed Puss-leene and headed out the door. Damn,— I was going to be thirty minutes early. Sam would faint. I had the reputation of getting to my bay ten minutes before work started. Hell,— didn’t take me long to get my tools out. Those other clowns would stand around eating doughnuts and drinking coffee. Jake was surprised to see me early.  He didn’t have all the assignment sheets completed. He couldn’t type and had to wait ‘til the secretary got there. I grabbed them out of his hand.

“Follow me.” I instructed him. I knocked them out on the shop typewriter in ten minutes. Dad was pleased.

“You saved my butt, kid.” Jake said to me.

“Then we’re even, Dad.”

“What do you mean?”

“You saved mine the other night. If you hadn’t done what you did for me, I’m sure the damn thing would have fallen off.” Jake laughed so hard he had to get a drink of water.

“By the by, Dad, I spoke to my daddy over the weekend and he said to tell you how much he appreciated you standing in for him and really wanted to meet you when he gets back next week. He also wanted to know if you’d mind helping out this week?”

“Hell no, kid,— be happy, too. He really said that?”

“Swear to God, Dad.”

“Damn,— I’ll look forward to meeting him.  Sounds like a good and decent man.”

“Okay, kid, let’s march your ass back to your bay for inspection. Your old man would want me looking out for you.”

“You’re the best, Dad.”

* * * * * * *

Monday breezed by.  Jake didn’t say anything about stopping by and had to stay late for some reason. I got home, was having a beer and my phone rang.

“Hello.”

“Hello,— is this Andrew Beaureguard James, Jr.”

“Yes, Sir, this is Beau.”

“This is Officer Earl D. Shaw calling.”

“Thank you for calling, Sir. I was going to call you tomorrow.”

“You were, huh?”

“Yes, Sir, Master Shaw.” I thought I’d see what response I got.

“I appreciate your respect, Son, but call me Office Earl D. or Officer Shaw for right now. I haven’t been called ‘Master’ for a while. Perhaps you understand?”

“I do, Sir. Officer Shaw it is.”

“Thanks, Son.  Now,— about that job you were going to do for me. When do you think you’d be available?”

“Considering what you did for me, Officer Shaw, I’ll make myself available at your convenience, Sir.”

“How about being in my driveway on your bike this Friday afternoon at four-thirty sharp.”
 
I thought, ‘Hell,— I don’t get off ’til four-thirty. I could get off an hour early Friday. I never ask for time off, and Sam owes me a couple.’

“I’ll be there, Sir, Friday afternoon, four-thirty, sharp.”

“Wear your leathers, Son.”

“Yes, Sir, I haven’t forgotten.”

“Good, look forward to seeing you then.”

“Same here, Officer Shaw, and thanks for calling, Sir.”

“You’re welcome, Son.”

Damn,— I had me a date with one of the hottest motorcycle officers I’d ever seen. I must be doing something right.

“Thank ya,’ Jay-zus! Gotta’ call Master Jeb.”  I shouted to no one but the puss.

The week flew by. I asked Sam if I could knock off an hour early on Friday, I had something I needed to take care of. I came in thirty-five minutes early Tuesday morning and helped dad again. Sam said, sure. True to his word dad dropped by Wednesday afternoon and threw a really memorable fuck into me. Shit, it was so good I should of erected bleachers and sold tickets. Jake told me if he was now an official stand in he wanted to make damn sure it took and lasted for at least three days. Talk about imprinting/conditioning. He snapped his fingers at me and just pointed to his boots. Then snapped them again and pointed to the soles. Damn, he was getting cocky. He loved it and so did I. After all, you gotta’ expect a little discipline from your old man.


Part IV ~ Officer Earl D. Shaw ~ L.A.’s Finest

“Come with me, don’t turn to look, become mine
 and I will show you the physical pleasures
 of paradise only one man may show another.”
 ~ Mephistopheles to Faust

Officer Shaw didn’t live too far from my apartment. Good thing, by the time I left work, got home, showered, shaved, fed puss, put my leathers on it was damn near four o’clock. I all ready checked out the address the night before so I wouldn’t have to search. I was in Officer Shaw’s driveway at exactly four twenty-nine and he rode up on his cop bike right behind me. He showed me where to park my bike and slowly got off his. I remember the way he swaggered up to me on the lake, and my dick started growing in its cage. He took his sunglasses off with his helmet and I got my first look at his eyes. Holy shit! They were a dark violet color, almost purple. They were startling to look into and had the strangest effect on me.  I couldn’t stop looking into them and sensed a deep sadness. His dark skin, jet black hair and mustache accented an other world eeriness of his eyes.

“Forgive me, Officer Shaw. I was taught staring is impolite.”

“It’s all right, Son. Don’t be uncomfortable. You’ll get use to them.” He smiled the warmest smile with a mouth filled with perfect teeth. He was drop dead, fucking gorgeous. He wasn’t a pretty man. There was nothing about him that you could even equate to pretty. He was a hyper-masculine, handsome son of a bitch.

“Come on in, Son.” He invited.

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“A beer if you have it, Sir”

“Have you had any training, Son?”

“Not yet, Sir.”

“Who taught you to say, “Sir” every time you speak to me?”

“I’m from the South, Sir, I had manners beat into me as a kid”

“Well,— that’s good and bad. I would've loved to have done that for you.” he smiled wryly.

 “Sorry, Sir.” I replied. He laughed as he handed me the beer.

“See that hall there?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Take your beer and walk down that hall. First door on the left is a small bedroom. Go in there and take off your clothes, leave them across the bed, and come back. Don’t make me send you back because of modesty. I have no time for that. If you’re wearing any sexual devices leave them on for right now,— understand, Son?”

“Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir.” I took my beer and walked down the hall to the small bedroom. His house was situated on the highest point in Silverlake and was tri-level. It was beautiful and showed expensive taste. I slowly took off my clothes, neatly arranging them in piles on the bed.  I wondered what his reaction would be when he saw the harness and cage, to say nothing of the plug up my butt. I was down to the harness and plug, grabbed my beer and headed back into the other room. He didn’t look up from what he was doing in the kitchen. He was wearing a pair of half glasses. I placed my beer on the bar and stood at parade rest. He looked up at me, smiled a warm smile, and looked at me briefly.

“Turn around, please.” I obeyed immediately and stood at parade rest again. He wiped his hands with a towel, ran some water over them, and wiped them again. He walked behind me and began to feel the plug in my ass.

“Push back, please.” I pushed back hard with my ass as he firmly held the plug in place. “Okay, that’s good. Did Master Jeb put the restraint on you?”

“No, Sir, Officer Shaw, Master Jim.”

“Does he have the only key?”

“No, Sir, I have one.”

“And, why do you have one, Son?”

“Master Jeb gave it to me in case I came to see you and you might wish to remove it, Officer Shaw. I can’t remove it myself, Sir, I was ordered not to.”

“Good, bring me the key, please.” I thought it strange he was saying please to me after each command. I would have done what he asked if he followed everything with ‘shit head.’  Saying ‘please’ was in a way kind of mysterious and ominous. I brought him the key. He unlocked the restraint and gently lifted it away from me not failing to notice my dick was getting hard. He sat the harness aside and walked back to the kitchen.

“I’ve ordered dinner for us. It will be here in a short while. Now, Son,— I don’t mean to be mysterious, but believe it or not, I am an almost pathologically shy person and it takes me a while to get up and going with a person. I’m all right with groups on a social basis or work but I have a Hell of a time one on one until I get to know someone. It’s called monophobia and I’ve fought it all my life;  however, to see you in the buff makes it a little easier for me. Beside you seem to emanate an empathetic aura, a warmth that could charm a cobra out of its fangs.”

I just looked into his sad eyes and felt deep pain. Tears came rolling down my cheeks from the massive hurt I instantly sensed. I swear to Judas, I was not crying. It was as if his pain was immediately transferred to my tear ducts. I know,— I know,— it sounds weird but it happened, and I was embarrassed. What must he think? What the hell was the matter with me? Surely he would think me nuts and throw me out. He came to me, put his hand on my shoulder, and I followed my heart like Master Jeb told me to.

“Officer Shaw,— I’m so embarrassed. I’m not crying.” I said with unwavering voice. “I don’t know what’s going on or why the waterworks. What must you think? Please accept my apology. Please, Sir, forgive me.” I looked into his eyes and again sensed the deep emotional pain; my knees almost buckled.
 
“Oh, God!” I said in anguish, “Please, Master,— please, Sir,— put your arms around me.” He didn’t hesitate. He encased me in a bear hug, and I slowly put mine around him.  He held me tightly.

“Am I that strange, Son? Are you frightened of me?”

“No, Office Shaw, not at all. I can’t explain it. I’m sorry I slipped and called you ‘Master.’” He just held me tighter, brushed his lips behind my ear and tried to calm me,

“Sshhhhuu,... it’s all right. You’re safe. I was wrong. I forgot your needs. A good Master wouldn’t do that. I would be pleased for you to call me Master if you need to.”

“I do, Master,— from the bottom of my heart. Not only for me but for you as well.” He looked at me puzzled.

“I'll accept that. No single man has been to my home in three years. You’re the first, and it’s meet that you should call me ‘Master.’  I believe we live our lives as free agents; however, there are some things we have no control over. Just as I had no control over inviting you here tonight. It was the right thing to do.  It was the right thing for us.  We’ve come together by an unbelievable chance happening orchestrated by whom or what, I can’t say? I don’t want to pick it to pieces and overlook the simple joy of a Master and Slave, who are obviously taken with each other, coming together. Someone or something saw to it. If it will help, I can order you to be comfortable with me.” He laughed.

“Please do, Master,— I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but the someone or something has told me to tell you.”

“I’m not sure why, but I believe you. Listen to my voice very closely, slave. You have nothing to fear here. You’re safe. You will not feel uncomfortable, have any fear of me or our joining this evening. Do you understand, slave?”

“Yes, Sir, and thank you, Master Earl.”

From that moment, I trusted him, felt comfortable, and he opened to me like a revelation. We talked as he prepared a small salad for us. I offered to help, but he refused. Dinner came, he got me another beer from the fridge, and we sat down to eat. He ordered good Italian food and the salad made it perfect. We talked about everything from my decision to enter training to how and why he thought he became a Master. He saw the scars on my body and asked if I would talk about them.

“I prefer not to, but I will if you insist. There’s not that much to tell. I was young, idealistic, believed in my country, went to Nam, got shot and sent home.”

“I’m not looking for cheap thrills from someone’s war stories. Your ‘someone’ or ‘something’ told me to ask. There’s much more to your story, isn’t there, Son?”

“Yes, Master,— please, I beg you,— don’t ask me to go there this evening. I keep it tied behind my back pretty tight. It only bothers me in the wee, small hours of the night when I wake up feeling lost and alone. I wake myself screaming sometimes. Of course, everyone has nightmares from time to time.” I said quietly looking down at his boots. He was still dressed in his uniform with badge and gun.

“May I ask a question, Master?”

“Sure, Son, what is it?”

“When you come home from work, off duty, don’t you change into something comfortable?”

“Usually, but I’m still wearing my uniform for you. You did say you’d clean my boots for me or did I misunderstand?”

“Oh God, no, Master,  I meant every word. I can be dense sometime. It’s wonderful. It’s every gay man’s dream, especially in the  leather crowd, to clean a cop’s boots. I never considered you might be keeping your uniform on for my benefit. I’m,... I’m,.... I don’t know what I want to say. I’m sorry. Usually I’m more together.”

“Son, I think we share certain fears. I see myself in you.” then he did a funny Groucho routine to lighten the mood, “Play your cards right or say the secret word and you’ll have a lot more of me in you.” we laughed together, “Seriously, I understand, you’re here at my request. You won’t be asked to do anything you don’t want to do. I just wanted you to experience something you might like to take with you from your visit. ”  He began to clear the table, and I got up and started helping. Walking behind him to the kitchen I couldn’t help get a good look at his police officer swagger. It was powerful, self assured, and intimidating.

“Officer Shaw you have the sexiest walk. When I saw you get off your bike and walk toward me in my rear view mirror I damn near shot in my leathers; not from fear of a ticket but because of the way you walk.” He laughed.

“Oh, you mean like this?” He did an exaggerated parody of his own walk.

“UUUhhhh....” I didn’t know if I should laugh or shit in my hat. “Well,— yes Sir, sort of,— ” He roared with laughter and I laughed too.

“That’s okay, Son, they teach us how to dismount our bikes, take our good time, and how to ‘swagger’ up to a vehicle. It’s all psychological intimidation.”

“Worked for me.” I said seriously. He laughed again.

“I’ve done it for so long its become part of my natural walk. Any motorcycle officer can go to another city and spot another motor officer in civies by the way he walks. It’s true. I’m not blowing smoke up your ass. They actually teach us how to walk that way.  We practice it in motor school and receive a grade.” As Master Jeb said it must be the truth it’s too bizarre not to be. Officer Shaw was almost as big a man as Master Jeb except not as heavy. He had a lean powerful body that didn’t have an ounce of fat. He looked liked he worked out two or three times a week. He told me about growing up on a Louisiana bayou; however, not in a river front shack.  His family were large property holders and had been since before the Civil War. His father was a Cajun and his mother a mulatto. Her mother was black but her father was white Irish. We finished cleaning the kitchen.

“Thanks for the hand. I haven’t had someone in the kitchen with me in a long time. I forgot how pleasant mundane things can be when you have someone help you. Now,— you ready to clean my boots, slave?”

“Yes, Sir, and thank you for dinner, Master.”

“You’re welcome, Son. Wait here for a moment.”

 I stood at parade rest to wait for him. He was back quickly and had something in his hands I didn’t recognize. When he got closer I noticed it was a collar with spikes.  He raised it to my throat, placed it around my neck and tightened it where it was made to come together in the back.  It had a small dog tag on a small ‘D’ ring but I couldn’t read the inscription. When he was satisfied it was tight enough for his liking he reached in his back pocket and produced a small lock and locked it. In his other hand he had a dog leash he clipped to the same ‘D’ ring the dog tag hung from. Then without a word he led me, on the leash, to a bedroom on the floor below.

He reached under a cabinet and pressed a button. An entire bookcase swung open to reveal stairs going down to a sub level. He led me down the stairs into his dungeon. It was another world. It was arranged like a library. Everything in its place. The most remarkable thing about the room was four,  four by eight panels of one way glass on the wall overlooking the city.  The view was breathtaking. I tried to imagine playing in this magnificent room and being able to see that view.  It was unbelievable.

The walls were black. There were heavy black drapes that could be pulled across the glass panels and when opened fit in front of a four by eight part of the wall on either side. The floor had a black hard rubber covering.  Everything in the room was either black or painted black. It was filled with an aura of mystery, sensual pain, experience, enlightenment, and release. He flipped some switches that lit two narrow spots. The blackness  absorbed any ambient light. He led me to the far wall of his dungeon and climbed into the huge throne-like chair. There were two bootblack irons for him to place his boots on.  The two spots aimed at the irons lit his boots perfectly.

“This is the first time I’ve set foot in this room in three years.” He paused for a long moment.  “Now Son,— make me proud of you. Show me I wasn’t wrong to follow my heart.”  God help me, he didn’t have to ask twice. I was on my knees and started to slowly clean his handsome boots with my tongue. I didn’t want to go too fast. I wanted to make this experience last as long as possible. I wanted the memory recorded on my brain of kneeling before this God-like man cleaning his boots. A mental recording I could playback when I was eighty and get off. Then,— for some damned reason my eyes began to water again and uncontrolled tears began to form and roll down my cheeks. I wasn’t crying. They just came. Maybe I’m allergic to something in the house. God, I hope I’m  not developing an allergy to leather. I was again embarrassed as they dropped on his boots and became mixed with my saliva. I was drifting in and out of the reality of my body and felt a presence all around me.

It wasn’t frightening, but I was aware of it.  He saw my tears falling on his boots and said nothing but moved his huge foot within his boot as if to communicate to me he was with me, around me, above me, under me, for me, understanding, surrounding my spirit with his strength, authority, approval and affection. We were caught up in the ecstacy and poignancy of the moment. It was like two wounded, partial souls conjoined to form a single purpose. My spirit fed like a starving child on his attention, affection, strength, and control. He needed my acceptance, my understanding, my trust and my submission. I thought at the moment, ‘This man may be the reason I was born.’ The walls of individual separation were pulled down. He was ready in that moment to use me to find the resolve, the peace we both desperately needed. He knew he didn’t need my permission. I must have sucked, licked, and cleaned his handsome boots for an hour or more. He finally broke into my cleaning mantra to claim I  returned his favor and he was satisfied.

Officer Shaw, Master Earl,  was now ready to use me for his pleasure and take advantage of our separate needs. My need to give and his need to take. He got down from the chair, slowly put his arms around me and held me close for a long time. I began to feel his tears drop on my shoulder and back. I held him tighter as his body shook and heaved. He didn’t have to speak his pain. I knew as it flooded into me. He was in catharsis. We were passing through uncharted lands, two adult children, walking hand in hand without fear, knowing they must pass this way to find themselves at healing’s door. Time passed, he composed himself and he looked down at me.

“I’m going to do something I wanted to do that day I pulled you over on the lake and you blurted out your request to clean my boots.”  he said softly to me.

Officer Shaw,  kissed me gently but firmly as if to pass a message that he was now in full control, would be using me as he saw fit, and should not be questioned. I kissed him back only enough to let him know I accepted his lead and trusted him to take us across any forbidden land. He stopped and moved his head to rest on top of mine and hugged my head to his breast.

“I’m going to secure you and go upstairs to change. I’ll bring your boots and leathers down to you. You will put them on while I sit in my chair and watch.”  he ordered. Officer Shaw went to a wall in the playroom and selected a pair of heavily lined wrist and ankle restraints. He led me with his leash in front of the panoramic windows. He attached one wrist to a chain strung across the ceiling. He equally spaced the restraints on the chain. My arms were stretched until I was on my toes. My ankles were secured, stretched apart, by a four foot piece of galvanized pipe. I was stretched in all four directions just to the point of discomfort. Officer Shaw went back to the wall where his equipment hung and returned.  He moved his body close to mine, pressing against me suggestively. He began to lightly rub my body from the legs to my chest enjoying the feel of my helplessness. I was falling into his control. He leaned his head in toward the side of my head and brushed his thick mustache behind my left ear as he held a three inch long, leather mouth plug in front of my face for me to see. He drew it close to my mouth.

“Kiss it, slave! Show me how much you appreciate my control by depriving you of one of your senses.” He whispered softly. He had me. I was hooked. He was inviting me into his world to control me, to use me, to play with me as his toy and I was ready.  By kissing the mouth plug I would give him my conscious consent to become his slave for the evening. I trusted him. I didn’t hesitate to follow his command and kissed the plug like a man possessed with a passion to show him my trust.

“Open your mouth, slave!” I obeyed and hung there for several minutes as he walked around me admiring his handy work. “Keep your mouth open, slave,— that’s right,— a little wider please,— good.” In one swift movement he placed the leather plug in my mouth and ordered me to let it lay there for a moment. He moved behind me again and ordered me to close my mouth around the plug and make it comfortable. He securely fastened the strap behind my head and it was locked in tight. Officer Shaw moved around in front where I could see him. He looked into my eyes and told me not to try to answer anything he might say even if he asked a question.  He explained when he plugged a slave’s skull pussy it was to remain silent. He looked into my eyes for the longest time, walked slowly up to me and began to feel my body like a man would examine a fine horse he was considering buying. His touch was transformed into magic. A  police officer in full uniform gently caressing and feeling my body like he was trying to pick the ripest melon from a produce stand.

* * * * * * *

“I’ll return in a minute.”  he spoke softly. He walked up the stairs and I was alone, secured in his dungeon, in front of a panoramic view of the skyline and lights of the downtown area of Los Angeles. I was uncomfortable but in no pain or severe discomfort. I hung there for about fifteen minutes until I heard heavy boots on the stairs and could see in the reflection of the windows his fully leathered shape descending the stairs. He held my leathers in his arms, sat them down, and walked to stand in front of me. Officer Shaw was no longer Officer Shaw he was transformed to Master Earl.  A man who was born to wear leather. To say he was hot was an injustice to the man,— an understatement. He wore the finest pair of heavy leather pants with a huge, well stuffed, cod piece, a studded belt, a handsome pair of Wesco engineer boots with triple vibram soles,  a leather vest open in the front and a Master’s leather hat.  He held a long leather whip in his hands.

“You’ve never been whipped before, have you, slave?” I started to answer but remembered his order about a silent plugged mouth.

“Good slave, you learn fast. Don’t answer. I have all the answers you need this evening.”  He sat the whip on a shelf and began to undo my restraints, “Put your leathers on!  If you need to use the head do it now. You may not have another chance for a while. If you must go later you will wear a catheter.” I dressed quickly. My boots were the last thing I put on. They were knee high lace up White’s. The same as my dad’s (Jake). Like dad, like son. When I finished I stood at parade  rest, arms behind my back. He stood on the dias in front of the large black chair. The two spots focused on his cod piece.

“Come here,— kneel,— and place your open hands, palms up on the dais.” I moved swiftly and knelt in front of him and placed my hands between his boots on the dais. “You won’t  feel any pain, slave.” He moved first one heavy boot to cover one hand, shifted his weight then moved the other to cover the other hand. He was standing full weight on my hands. There was no pain. Not even discomfort.  It was a trick I learned later that shifted most of his weight onto the heels of his boots but it impressed the shit out of me at the time.

“This is a symbol of your place within our passage this evening. As you have trusted me to place your hands beneath my boots so will you trust me in all things. With trust and humility you will join me in passage to a world we will make for ourselves. You must trust me to lead you through the darkness into the light of self understanding with strength, knowledge and passion.”

I was deeply moved by his words and his pledge. I knew this man was different but as sensitive as I might be to read people I had no idea of his depth. He wasn’t joking. He was deadly serious. He wasn’t going to let me play at being his slave for the evening;— I was his to be his slave. It was the strongest feeling of bonding or belonging I’d experienced in life. My usual analytic brain program refused to run.  It was replaced with a new program. A program that told me I was free to trust and follow. He moved off my hands, and I immediately wanted him to stand on them again. He squatted on his haunches, knees spread for balance, arms resting on his legs, slowly dropped his right hand toward me with his palm up. My leash was hanging from my collar and lay on the dais. There was no question in my mind as to his purpose. I immediately moved my head to the dais, caught the end of my leash in my mouth, and gently placed it in his waiting hand.

He slowly closed his hand around it and placed his other hand on my head, rubbed, and patted it as he might a favorite pet. He reached to his back pocket and produced my mouth plug he had taken out when he released me from my chains. He simply held it about halfway between us and waited. I had no question what he wanted. I moved my mouth toward it and began to kiss it. He moved it around so I could cover all surfaces with my kisses. He made a slight signal as you might signal a well trained sheep dog. He took one finger and made a small up and down movement and I immediately started to pump and suck the black leather plug as if it were a cock,— his symbolic cock,— I would be wearing in my mouth. His final signal was one slight movement down with his finger then he clamped his thumb and forefinger together. I took the plug in my mouth and clamped my teeth lightly around it. I held it as he secured it tightly behind my head.

Where Master Earl led, I would follow without question. He led me by the leash to a large black tiled shower area to a small, black leather, covered rectangular table about two feet by four feet. The bed/table stood about four feet off the floor. It was thickly padded and had a hole at one end approximately ten inches in diameter. Another hole about three inches in diameter was at the opposite end. There were wooden dowel pegs across the end where the small hole was. He signaled me to lay down on the pad. It became clear as my head lay in the large hole flat with the opening so I could breathe unobstructed and my cock and balls fit through the smaller hole. It fit me perfectly. How could that be? Did he ask Master Jeb for my measurements? He reached down and raised one of my boots and placed it on the peg. I placed the other on the other side.

My knees were on either side of the table and my boots on the pegs spread my ass to a perfect position for his access.  He flipped something near my shoulders under the table and two more pegs popped up. He placed one of my hands on one peg and I followed with the other. It was a smaller dowel covered with leather. I could put my hands around the dowel like you’d wrap your hand around a bike’s throttle. Master Earl threw a strap over my upper body and pulled it tight securing it to the other side. He threw one over my waist just above my butt. He attached the leg cuffs around my boots to eye bolts near the foot pegs with spring return clip fasteners. He did the same with my hands. He left me there for a while to orient myself.

I felt Master Earl place his hands on my butt and rubbed both cheeks for a few minutes. Damn,— his hand felt good. I knew he was letting me know he was going to do something with my ass. Sure enough, he removed my plug with one swift movement. He placed a small amount of lube on my sphincter and began to insert his plug. I pushed back and up to help. He gently pushed my butt down and held it down for a moment. He didn’t want me raising my ass, and I obeyed. He was a Master. He worked my ass with his plug. He would almost put it in, but hold back at the last minute. By the time he decided to pop it in, my hole was so stretched, and relaxed it felt like it had been there forever. The largest part of his plug was slightly larger than my usual plug but the diameter at the base was much smaller. My sphincter could clamp tighter on it. I felt him push on it. I raised my ass and pushed back so he could seat the plug properly.

Satisfied he moved to my head and lightly tapped on the back. I raised my head from the table and he slipped a leather hood over it. When he adjusted the face as he wanted he gently applied pressure on the back of my head, and I returned my face to the hole. I could feel him working as he tightly laced the full hood from the top of my head to the base of my neck. It fit perfectly. It was snug but not uncomfortable with plenty of room for my nose and mouth. It was hot and my unrestricted cock grew erect, straight down from the bed. He put his hand on my back near my ass and spoke softly.

“Let me see you use your ass to fuck my plug.” I raised my ass as much as possible. I started sucking and fucking his plug with my ass like it was an oil rig piston. It flashed in my mind, I was in exactly the same position on my bike with the other plug up my butt going around the lake.

“That’s fine, Son,—  you’re  ready now.” I had no idea for what but I couldn’t wait to find out.  Master Earl undid the straps on his work table and held his hand on the small of my back. “Before I let you to up there’s something you need to know for your safety. This plug is a little different than the other. It has an eye bolt sticking out from the base, so you can’t sit down.  When I let you up move to the back of the table, push yourself to a standing position, and hit parade rest.”

 He let his hand off my back and told me to get up. I obeyed, and followed his instructions. I stood at parade rest. He took my leash and led me to the same spot he secured me before. As I stood there looking at the view he moved behind me and brought a heavy leather patch that snapped over my eyes on the hood. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t speak. His control over me was increasing, but I felt no fear. I heard him moving about. He put up a one and a half inch pipe that ran in front of me and secured to two four by fours on either side. He moved me slightly forward until I felt the cold metal across my belly near my navel. Next he secured each arm restraint to an eye bolt in the ceiling which pulled me forward with my arms slung out and forward from my body.

The metal pipe kept me from falling forward. I sensed there were springs on the end of the chains because they seem to give a bit. He secured my ankle restraints to a shorter pipe than he had before. My feet were closer together so I could stand fairly steady with my boots forced apart approximately three feet. Not for long. He fitted a heavy leather belt around my waste and buckled it tight in the back. There were ‘D’ rings on each side of the belt. He connected chains to these rings and ran them up and behind me to eye hooks in the ceiling. They, too, had some give and must have had heavy springs on the ends. He moved in front of me and attached a chain to the bar separating my feet, pulled them upwards, to the sides and slightly forward so I was just off balance.

The bar caught me in front and the chains attached to the belt kept my ass up and back. He moved behind me and I felt him attach a chain with a snap hook to the eye bolt sticking out of my plug.  Master Earl ran it to an eye-bolt on the floor. I sensed there was a spring on the other end of this chain too. I didn’t have a clue what my Master was going to do next. He simply removed the heavy pipe holding me across the waste and I floated free in my chains slightly off balance. My ass was raised above my back. The springs were perfectly balanced so I had a feeling of floating. I had to clamp my ass tight around the plug to keep it anchored in place.

Remember the old Navy saying, 'You don’t have an anchor tied to your ass?' Meaning, take your best shot or there’s nothing holding you back. I literally had an anchor in my butt. The man had a unique sense of design. This arrangement worked perfectly for his purpose. He walked in front of me and held my head in his arms and held me close.

“The object of our time together this evening is to teach you the necessity of control. Control over your physical self while allowing me the control I need. It will become clear to you in a few minutes. I'm going to whip your ass with a four foot soft leather flogging whip. It has about twenty narrow strips of leather bundled together in the handle so each small strip can move independently. When used to whip someone they effectively work in consort. I’ll start slowly and not too hard so you can begin to get the feel of your position and how best to control its relationship to my stimulus. Under no circumstance are you to allow my plug to be pulled out of your ass. If it happens it will only add to your time being whipped. I know you won’t let me down.” He was still holding my head tenderly in one arm and running his other hand down my back. His touch was electric.

“Do you remember when you were a kid, your dad took off his belt and told you what he was about to do was going to hurt him more than you? You didn’t believe that shit did you?”  he  asked rhetorically, “Okay slave, let’s begin.”

I never felt a large whip across my ass before. I remembered the light playful flogging Master Jim gave me while I cleaned his boots. It was wonderfully stimulating and sensual. I had apprehensions about this, but the roller coaster all ready climbed the ramp and was about to plunge down the other side. To late to yell, ‘King’s X!’ I prayed I would have the strength and courage to get through this. Master Earl moved behind me and was rubbing my ass with his hands and the whip. He put on a pair of leather riding gloves, and they felt good against my skin. He was conditioning me to the feel of the whip.


Part V ~ A Leap of Faith

“Come ye daughters, share my anguish!”
Opening chorus ~ St. Matthew Passion
J. S. Bach

Master Earl began our journey. His first fifteen to twenty strokes with his whip were bearable. He was accurate in his description about what to expect and my response. It was a natural reflex for me to move forward with the impact of the whip. I would be propelled forward by the force and my instinctive response to move away from discomfort. I would feel the plug in my ass stop my forward motion but my ass muscle was strong from wearing the other plug for over a week. I was doing all right. I was amazed at the elegance of Master Earl’s design. The springs would return me immediately to position ready for another application of his strength. I found I could raise my ass just a little higher for him to get his best shot. The strength and frequency of his blows began to increase.

I worked hard at keeping his plug in my ass and was managing. The concern for holding the plug in my ass took the attention away from any pain I might be feeling; don’t ever believe anyone who might tell you they didn’t feel a thing. After a while, it hurt like Hell. I was almost ready to mumble for him to let up for a while when he stopped. I had no emotions while he was whipping me. He walked behind me and began to gently rub my stinging butt. His touch was concerned, soothing, and comforting. I began to sob as if my heart would break. He continued kneading my ass. Soon there was no hurt and only the sexual sensuality of his caresses. I was still a blubbering idiot. He moved around to my front.   Master Earl gently took my hooded head in his arms and began to soothe me. He didn’t chastise me for my emotions. On the contrary, he encouraged me to let it out, give it to him, and let him take it away as a means to cleanse my heart.

This man took me to the brink of physical pain. Why didn’t I want to kill the son of a bitch? Instead,— if I had been free,— I would fall to his feet and thanked him again and again. Something happened. I was not the same person who entered his dungeon some time ago. My concepts of belonging, pain, desire, creation, affection, dominance, submission, strength, and honor were scrambled. These concepts were being rearranged in importance in my brain. How could this be, my psyche actually felt a little better? Unless you’ve experienced it, you can’t possibly understand. Some American Indian tribes endured physical pain as a rite of passage. They describe it in a similar same way. A release of mental anguish and stagnant emotions.

“We’re half way thorough our journey, my brave slave. I’m pleased with you. I’ve never had a first timer get this far without either losing the plug or begging to stop.”  I don’t wonder. I’m not overly brave, but I do seem to be able to bear a great deal of pain. Maybe it's because I have blue eyes? What’s that got to do with pain? The Nazis did pain endurance studies and the only piece of information of any importance that came of the study was people with blue eyes can stand more pain than brown-eyed people. Master Earl continued to console me. I began to get a grip on myself, but wondered if I might talk him into a rain check on the second half. How could I? My mouth was tightly plugged, and I knew he wouldn’t acknowledge me anyway.

This was complete loss of control. I remembered the old roller coasters that always took you around twice. After having the shit scared out of me as a kid I was ready to disembark after the first run and then, 'Oh no! Oh, my God!' You heard it hit the cogs to take you slowly up the steep ramp for the second drop. As the bottom dropped out from under you I prayed my ass wouldn’t do the same. Master Earl started in again. There was no warm up period. He immediately launched into an assault on my ass almost where he left off. What was happening? I felt the intensity, harder, and faster, but I was beginning to hurt less and less. I had no problem with the plug. I had it locked in and suddenly felt powerful against the onslaught. I felt lightheaded, and my mind began to drift. I was aware of the whip, but I was beginning to feel unattached as if I was looking at it as an indifferent observer.

‘Ah, yes, the queer slave. How fortunate for him, his Master’s flogging him. Oh, well,— he’s probably been a good slave and deserves his Master’s attention. Come, let’s move along.’  I suddenly let go. I felt release. I shot my load. I didn’t just come it felt like my guts were being extruded through my penis, falling out of my body, onto the dungeon floor. That’s the last thing I remembered.

The next thing I knew I was laying completely nude, no leather, no plug, no pain, in the arms of the most handsome male angel. He was whispering wonderfully nasty, obscene, and arousing things he was going to do to my body. I was so relaxed and comfortable I had a hard time adjusting to reality. At first, I thought it was Master Earl holding me?

‘Oh, hello, Master Earl,’ I thought, ‘did I tell you I think you’re an angel.’  No wait, that doesn’t make sense. The cobwebs were temporarily swept away and I remembered.

“Oh, Master Earl, I’m so sorry.”

“For what, slave?”

“I let you down. I lost your plug. It’s not in my ass anymore.”

“You didn’t lose the plug. I removed it, and even then, I thought I was going to have to get the jaws of life to get it out of you. You weren’t going to let go. I finally talked you out of it, or I don’t think I would've ever gotten it out.” He threw back his handsome head and laughed proudly. “I’ve never encountered a more determined ass. No pun intended. Do you have any idea how special you are?”  I didn’t say anything. Why couldn’t I remember?  Was he making this up to spare my feelings? Why did I feel like I had a huge weight lifted from me? Oh, shut up and bathe in the warmth of this angel who speaks like Master Earl. For an angel he really knew some nasty things to say about what he was going to do to me.

“You frightened me for a minute, slave.” I didn’t respond. “You went somewhere I was not expecting, and I’m not sure where it was. You were carrying on a conversation with someone, and it was getting pretty emotional on your end. By the time I removed your mouth plug you were coming back to reality. It may seem foggy to you now; but,  you stayed by my side for the entire journey, and I’m proud of you.” He raised my face to his and gently kissed me. The beautiful man-angel kissed me. Kissed by an angel. Maybe I am special? Then my eyes looked down.

‘Holy shit!’ I thought, ‘This angel has the second biggest cock I’ve ever seen. Wait a minute, do angels have dicks?’

God only knows.




nd Chapter 4 ~ The Ties That Bind
Copyright 2004 Waddie Greywolf
All rights reserved ~
Mail to: <waddiebear@yahoo.com>