David,
This story should probably go under "authoritarian." Thanks.
David (c) 2001 by ebaybarber@hotmail.com
Chapter 1
Monday afternoon I gave David a call. When he answered, I told him, "Be at my house at 8:00 PM Tuesday night. Bring whatever toys you want me to use on you. Make sure you're clean, inside and out."
David said, "Yes, Sir." I'll be there at Tuesday at 8:00. And I'll make sure I'm clean." Then he added, "Thank you, Sir, for taking the time to use me." I thought that was a bit much, but at least David sounded sincere.
I gave David my address. I growled, "Don't be late, or you'll be sorry," and hung up.
For those of you just joining us, maybe I should fill you in. Saturday night I'd taken my new boy, Greg (see "Training Greg") to the leather shop to get him some leather and toys. David had waited on us. He'd shown interested in being worked on by me. Since he cute, I'd readily agreed to take care of him. Now all I had to do was make sure the house and I were ready for him. And since Greg was busy Tuesday night, he'd be out of the house.
A little after 8:05 on my watch Tuesday night-David would pay for being late-there was a knock on my door. I split the black sheets I'd hung across the front doorway and looked out to find David on my porch. He had a paper sack in his hand.
I checked him over. What I saw was a young guy, maybe 24 or 5, 5'8", at most 140 pounds, good build, and a sweet smile. He obviously worked out; the black tee shirt he was wearing clung nicely to a vee-shaped chest. I could also see the outline of his small tit rings through the black cloth. Tight 501s clung to a shapely ass and accented a small, but protruding basket. The 501s were not tight enough to show off the PA I knew ran through the head of David's dick. Come to think of it, when I'd seen him in the leather shop, David had had on a black jock. I hoped he was still wearing it; jocks make good gags.
"Hi, Sir," David said. "Sorry I'm late, Sir. Traffic was much heavier than I ever imagined." California Bay Area traffic is like that. But of course it wasn't a good excuse for a boy; he'd still have to pay for being late. "I brought you some toys, like you suggested." David held out the bag to me.
I took the bag and moved back inside. I sensed David starting to come in and yelled, "Who told you to come in? Get back on the porch and wait 'til I TELL you to come in. Who trained you, anyway?"
David stepped back and contritely said, "Sorry, Sir. Nobody trained me. That's what you're supposed to do. That's why I'm here." David was sort of grinning as he poured this out. But his smile was cute, so I let him get away with it. I AM a nice master, after all.
I turned the bag of toys over and dumped the toys onto the floor. I held the back and called out to David, "Take off your shoes and socks and hand them to me." After a pause, David's hand slipped between the door covering and he handed me a shoe. The other shoe, then both socks, soon followed. I dropped them into the bag.
"Now give me your shirt," I ordered. A moment later David handed me his black tee shirt. I sniffed it briefly-it gave off the scent of soap and a clean boy, not sweat. David's shirt went into the bag.
"Take off your pants and hand them to me," I ordered. When I didn't hear anything, I said, "Do it. Now." I felt myself getting a little bit hard as I heard David unbuttoning his 501s. David passed them between the sheets covering the doorway. I took a moment and checked out David's license. He was 24, weighed 135 according to his license, did not need glasses or contacts to drive (in a bondage scene, it's useful to know if someone's wearing contacts), and lived only a mile or so from my house. I put the pants on top of the shirt.
"Take off your jock," I told David, "and give it here."
David hesitated. "I'm outside, Sir," he whined.
"I know," I replied. "And you're going to stay outside if you don't give me your jock right now. As it is, you've already earned a whipping for yourself. I can't stand whining."
Actually it was no big deal to be nude on my front porch, but David was not to know that. My entryway is screened on one side by the side of the garage and on the other by the front of the living room. The neighbor across the street-the only place you could look directly onto my porch-was on vacation, and the house is on a cul-de-sac, so cars never drove by. In fact, the place was perfect for what I had in mind.
David said, "Yes, Sir. Sorry for questioning you, Sir. Here they are, Sir." Peculiarly he added, "You can keep them, if you want, Sir" to which I replied, "Of course I can." I did, after our scene. I passed them on to a friend who collects such garments, after I'd had Greg wear them for a week, including three trips to the gym-I forget what I was punishing him for. Who cares, my friend loved the raunchy jock, especially when I used it as a gag on HIM. But back to David.
Now that David was naked, I guess he expected to be invited in. He was wrong. I said, "I want to check the toys you've brought. Don't go away." With that I closed the front door, leaving him naked on a stranger's porch. At least it was a warm night, maybe 75 degrees-the last time I'd left a boy naked on my front porch it'd been a cool night, closer to 60. So what did David have to complain about?