This is the end of the story, I hope you found it enjoyable: if not I hope it was at least provokative.
FINN THE SKIN
Chapter 7
I kept a low profile for the next few months, conscious that questions had been asked at college regarding my involvement with the police, so I concentrated on training my boy Mark and on passing my final exams.
Mark was responding to my training by becoming more and more pliant to my demands. He was now able to take a fairly severe whipping before asking for mercy: he was drinking my piss, licking his shit from my dick and his arse was stretching nicely. Whether we had heavy sex, long passionate fucking or me just sitting back with a beer and him lying at my feet, we were getting on OK. I took him to London a few times and, while I could see that it upset him when I teamed up with another skin, it was something that he had to get used to. He was happy to go to a club and be led around wearing ball stretchers and a collar and leash, but there was a difference in him after I had sex with someone else that I was having to knock out of him.
I passed my exams with little problem, and was set to take up the running of my company on a full time basis. To celebrate my success I had a Prince Albert fitted, this time having the piercing done professionally. I found a nice flat near my office and took Mark to live with me full-time, something that made him happy. I laid down certain house rules, such as him being naked at all times when at home and leaving the house only with my permission as well as adhering to a strict rota of domestic duties and a routine I had created for him to develop his physique.
The business was going from strength to strength; I retained the secretary who had been there from the beginning and she proved invaluable. I was expanding production now that I had more time to devote my talents and was enjoying my social life more than ever. I took Mark to Berlin and opened his eyes to what men could do to men. I took him to a few bars with back rooms and let him play there with a few guys. I met another top who was into heavy leather and got an invitation to his home for a session with six subs he kept as a stable. I left Mark in the hotel room and headed to the address given, a two storey house with a fitted dungeon in the cellar. Two of the subs were upside down tied to either side of a St Andrews Cross with a large burning candle in each arse, two more were fastened into slings with dildoes fitted and the final two, identical twins, were standing with heads bowed awaiting our attention. Since it was my play, I placed them standing face to face and fitted a pair of handcuffs tightly around their balls then attached the cuffs to a floor ring with a chain. I then cuffed their hands and attached them to a ceiling pulley and raised them until their heels were off the ground and their balls were straining against the cuffs. Heinz and I then took a whip each. We started slow and licked at their arses with flicking strokes, watching them get excited before increasing the strength and swing of our lashes. We started to show off to each other by pointing to a spot then aiming the whip directly to it. Soon both subs were moaning, pushing their cocks against each other then pushing their arses back in anticipation of the next kiss of leather. Heinz laid a lash across 'My' sub and I was able to hit him on exactly the same spot. I then hit 'His' sub as a challenge, which he was able to fulfil. Finally we just started hitting them at random beating them on the back until they both climaxed.
The two on the cross had body hair so I shaved one while Heinz shaved the other. We started with electric shears, buzzing their whole body then taking safety razors and dry shaving all over their skin. When we finished that we covered them in foam and did it again, just to get extra smoothness. It was then that I looked at the upside down face and decided the eyebrows had to go too. We then watched them scream and buck their bodies as we poured alcohol over their bodies. We turned the cross right way up and used broad flat leather paddles to beat on their stinging flesh before cutting them down and placing them in a cage.
We turned to the final two and by swinging the slings around we were able to fit tit clamps on each of them which we attached to each other so that any movement pulled against both of them, and removed the dildoes. We greased them both up and started playing with their arses, fingering them steadily and heavily until we were fisting them. Heinz managed a double fist, but I put that down to him having smaller hands. I tried it on my sub, but the art of true S&M is to know when something is impossible. I showed Heinz my trick of pissing into a sub wearing a condom then leaving it inside: he thought it was wild and we both did it then beat their arses with sticks to see who could burst the condom first. Finally we had to give in; we were in more danger of bursting their arse than the condom. We tilted the sling to raise their arses and put the lit candles in. We took the pair from the cage and handed them a short whip each with instructions to fight then while they lashed each other we removed the two from the ceiling pulley, strapped them across either end of a table. We dry fucked them, staring at each other. Heinz reached over and lifted his whip and curled it around my body, not hard but enough to sting. I picked up my whip and returned the favour and we kept whipping each other while watching the twins draw blood from each other as we fucked arse.
Mark and I returned to Britain ready to start decorating the flat, but discovered that Freddy was seriously ill. He had, in fact been ill for some time without anyone knowing but now he was dying. He signed himself out of hospital and hired a private nurse to care for him. I visited him every day and he enjoyed talking dirty, reminiscing about some of the weird things he had tried in his life. Sometimes, when he was feeling strong enough, he would have the nurse withhold the pain-killing drugs for as long as possible, revelling in the pain that racked every ounce of his body, inside and out. I would play with his dick while he suffered until he would finally give in and the nurse would release the morphine.
One day I was sitting with him and he suddenly said "Young master, may I ask for something?" I hate it when anyone calls me 'Master', I will let someone call me 'Sir' but Freddy was the only one to call me 'Young Master', which he had from day one. I told him to go ahead and he said, "Fist me". It was the one thing Freddy had never been able to take, despite trying with me for several years and with many others before me.
I made sure that his medication was at maximum and I greased his arse well. I started slowly, although his arse was already stretched a good bit. I got four fingers in before I felt the resistance but this time I kept stretching at his muscle. He lay back and moaned as I finally got my thumb into him. From there I pushed forward and he closed around my wrist. The beauty of the morphine was, although he felt no pain, he could feel my fist inside him. I balled my fist and gently fucked his hole, rubbing more grease around my arm and pushing myself deeper. For the first time in ages he got a hard-on and I jerked on it for him. Finally his body stiffened and he felt himself climax, although nothing actually came out. I withdrew my fist and he smiled at me and said, "Thankyou, young master" then closed his eyes and fell asleep. He died that night.
The funeral was all arranged, he had prepared everything. His coffin was bought and stored in the house waiting for him; it was specially made and lined in black leather. He was laid in it wearing a collar and a cock ring. The funeral was small and personal and afterwards I was called to the lawyer's office. Freddy had made various bequests, mainly taking care of Robert, his servant. I wasn't too surprised that he left me his share of our company, but I was stunned that he left me the house.
I phoned some of my straight skin mates from university days and told them what I needed. That weekend I drove down and we went out in a team. They knew where we would find bikers and we went looking for them.
Five of us walked into the pub and saw about eighteen bikers standing. I started immediately, picking on one after another, insulting them. We drank up and left and heard them getting ready to follow. We walked down a quiet dark road knowing that they were behind us, until we turned the corner to where ten of our mates were waiting. We turned and ran towards the bikers before they had time to group and draw weapons, although a few of them had beer glasses in their hands. I took a bat from another skin and took a chain from my pocket with the other hand. The lead guy ran at me and I swung the bat bursting the side of his head and putting him out of action. I ran among the rest swinging the chain above my head laying into anyone who got near me until I got a lump of wood across the back of my head. I fell to the ground but rolled so that the follow-up kick missed me. I big fucker was taking a second aim so I swung the chain around his ankles and pulled. As he went down, I jumped up and buried my boot well into his crotch causing him to fold double and throw up. I Put another kick at his face and heard a bone break; nose, jaw, I had no idea.
Mayhem was around me with bodies holding each other in groups of two or three and rolling on the ground. I grabbed leather jackets at random and punched or kicked whatever was inside them. I felt a particularly bad blow to my upper back but by now I was fighting through a white mist.
Finally, as I held a bikers neck to stop him falling while I burst my knuckles on his face, two, then three mates tried to drag me away. I didn't know it but I had been stabbed. They got me away and I phoned someone I knew from the medical department and he came over to where I was staying and examined me. I had a small neat stab wound just below my right shoulder blade and I had to get x-rays to make sure nothing vital was punctured so I had to agree to let him take me to hospital. X-rays were taken but while I waited for the results the police turned up, having been called by hospital staff. Fortunately none of the other skins had come with me, so I told them I had been mugged, that I had fought back and chased the two guys away giving a full description of my fictional attackers. I gave a false name and address, so when the doctor told me that the wound was clean, that no organs had been damaged and put three stitches in it, I went to the toilet and out the window. I called one of my mates from a call box and he picked me up in my car and drove me all the way home. I was wounded, my face was a mess and my hands were almost twice their usual size, but I rested at last, having got my anger and grief out of my system. I missed Freddy more than I anticipated.
Chapter 8
The next few months were a bit chaotic as I re adapted my life. We moved into Freddy's house and started rearranging things to suit our life styles. With hindsight, it was about that time that I noticed a slight change in Mark, he became less dependable, letting little things slide, like letting the house work slip or not polishing our boots to regulation standard. I thought at first that it was the larger house and added responsibility, but whenever I would punish him we would make passionate S&M sex afterwards and things would be OK for a few days afterwards
He no longer minded my fun with other subs, in fact he enjoyed watching, sometimes even helping me by fitting cuffs, fetching torture implements etc. I had added to the playroom, mainly wrought iron leg stretchers and separated wrist cuffs, leather and canvas body-bags and, in the toilet area, facilities for proper enemas. I had some restraints made where the ankles were fastened thirty inches apart and the wrists were fastened centrally, ideal for securing a sub and suspending him with his arse open and showing, ready for either fucking or smacking. I added a couple of crosses, a suspended cage and boards on which I could mummify and suspend a sub. I was gathering a small stable of regulars, who would visit every few weeks for their own taste in pain and humiliation. I was developing skills in long-term treatment, not just the 4-6 hours that I had been used to.
Different guys are turned on by different things and the secret of getting maximum enjoyment out of a sub is not just by playing to what he likes doing, but to lead him gradually into new areas, new pleasures. It is great fun to watch a well trained sub take severe pain doing what he has been doing for a long time, but it is much more pleasurable watching a sub suffer and struggle to experience something he has never done before. This doesn't have to involve pain, I had a sub who visited regularly and one of his things was humiliation and verbal abuse. This was done in the playroom and did nothing for me, but he enjoyed being called names or made to humiliate himself in front of me. It was plain that his greatest desire was public humiliation, but he was too afraid.
Over a period of several months I built his confidence until he was ready, although he had no idea what it would entail. I had him over one Friday evening and after making him crawl around like a dog, drink my piss from a bowl and lick my arse clean, I put him in a cage and left him overnight. In the morning, I gave him bread and water, lots of water, then slipped him a diuretic pill. As usual, eventually he asked permission to pee but this time I refused. I told him to get dressed in his light blue jeans and tee shirt and I walked him down to the shops. I could tell he was very uncomfortable, but he thought the wriggling and fidgeting was his public humiliation. Outside of the supermarket, I sent him in to buy a loaf of bread and I waited outside where I could see the check-out tills. He fetched the loaf and joined a queue to pay for it, that's when I phoned his mobile and ordered him to pee. He was speechless, he looked outside to where I was standing and I nodded my head. I then told him if he didn't do it, I would never have him in my playroom again. I watched as his face turned bright red, then saw him strain against his natural instincts as he tried to open his bladder. Finally he succeeded and I saw his jeans turn dark blue. No one noticed until the piss started to dribble onto the floor: first one woman then several more turned to look at him and the cashier started shouting at him. He burst into tears and fled the store, throwing the loaf in a basket as he ran past. Outside he ran right past me and down the road. When I got home he was sitting in a corner with his hands covering his face, still crying and rocking on the balls of his feet.
I ordered him into the playroom and made him strip then suck on his wet clothes, then I put him over my knee and spanked him for what he had done. To this day he talks of how good that felt. Now he goes out in his car to public areas then walks through a crowd of people while pissing himself and getting turned on by their looks of disgust: it is only a matter of time before he is arrested and taken to court, more public humiliation for him, and he can hardly wait.
I also started experimenting with mind control, using mummification or long-term suspension. If a sub wants treatment over 4 or 5 days, he must spend time in solitary confinement while I am at work. Usually they are just put in a cage with food and water and a pet tray for a toilet and left until I return, but sometimes I will put one in a sling and blindfold him. By getting him used to certain sounds at certain times of day, within a few days you can confuse him by playing the sounds out of sync. By varying the room temperature between day and night, you can also fool him by changing temperatures at the 'wrong' times. If a sub knows that he will be played with between 7 and 10pm, I can have a good session with him, leave him alone and let him sleep for a few hours then start again a few hours later, his body tells him that he is still sore from last time, but his brain tells him that 24 hours have passed. I can convince a sub after 4 days that he has been there for at least twice that long. When the brain becomes confused, the sub is much more amenable to experimentation and will stand pain much stronger than usual.
Meantime, Mark continued to give me problems. As the weather improved, he asked permission to go running in the park each day, which I gladly agreed to, but soon he was staying late, ignoring his duties and generally confounding me. I would punish him, he would beg forgiveness, we would have sex in the playroom and everything would be fine for a time. His next thing was not keeping his body shaved properly. I dry-shaved him to teach him a lesson, but it didn't work. I bought one of those depilatory machines that pull hairs out by the roots and used that on him every day to encourage him to make sure he was well cleaned before I came home, but although it was absolute agony, I kept finding hairs to be removed. Eventually I realised the problem, he didn't want lovemaking, he only wanted sadistic treatment, the sorer the better. He had become a pain junkie. He was pushing me as hard as he could to make me abuse him. From then on, if he wasn't up to standard, if his chores weren't done, I would ignore him. He fell into place immediately, but I noticed that no matter what I did to him he wanted more. It reached a stage where he would be unfit for anything for several days after one of our sessions and I was afraid of doing permanent damage. He fantasised about broken bones, I was unable to satisfy him.
One day at work I felt a bit unwell and decided to give myself an afternoon off. I tidied things up and headed home. At first I assumed that Mark was out at the park, but I thought I heard a noise downstairs; when I went down, Mark was cuffed into a sling and some local guy was sticking a big dildo into his arse. I banged the door and they both jumped. I knew that if I reacted, I would kill both of them so I quietly told the guy to leave, which he gladly did. I looked at Mark and there was genuine fear in his eyes. This time he hadn't set a plan for me to find him, this was behind my back. He started to plead and cry but I couldn't look at him. I picked up a blanket and threw it over him and walked away. Later I went into the room and set up a water bottle for him then covered him again. I left him there for three days while I decided what to do. Finally I went into the playroom and removed the cover, he was stinking with dried-in piss and shit so I washed his body then I shaved him all over, then I sat down and asked him what he wanted from me. Firstly he asked to be punished, going on at great length confessing to other times he had disobeyed me and about the things he wanted me to do, then he told me that he didn't deserve me as a master, and that I should sell him on in complete bondage to a stricter, more cruel master. I left the room for a while then went back and unshackled him: he was telling me this was the right thing to do, instead of beating or whipping him in the sling I should knock him all over the playroom, beating him until he was unable to ever cheat on me again, crippling him so that he could never leave the house again. I led him upstairs where I had everything he owned packed and ready. Now he went really crazy, begging and pleading, but I handed him enough money to keep him for several months and put him out of my house. The last that I heard of him, he had contacted several people putting the news about that he was available for a new master. Apparently I have a bit of a reputation and the fact he was trained by me was to his advantage. He finally found what he wanted, a sadistic bastard in London I wouldn't trust with a dog.
Chapter 9
Over the next few weeks I looked at my life and tried to figure out why, when I seemed to have all I could ask for, I still felt less than happy.
As usual, the answers came from an unexpected but dependable source. I went down to London for the weekend and stayed with Chick, the Scottish skin and his boy, Paddy. Chick and I had a heavy session together fighting and fucking each other, and afterwards Chick asked what the problem was. Although I hadn't realised it, my fighting had been a lot more intense, and Chick had felt at times that I was out to do serious damage to him. We opened a litre of brandy and started to talk and eventually I was telling him things I wouldn't want to tell anyone.
He looked at me and said, "You know, for a brainy guy, you can be really fucking thick at times". He then tore my lifestyle apart, detail-by-detail until I had nothing left to say. Basically his diagnosis was, I had built up a successful business, inherited a nice house, but I had forgotten how to have fun. I had built up a stable of subs who called on a time scale that suited them, then we played the games that they wanted to play. With few exceptions, I was seldom in complete control, and was beginning to show a lack of interest in experimentation because I had too many other things on my mind. More importantly, I had no friends locally. I still kept in touch with the skins I met in my university days and frequently visited Chick and other mates in London, but I seldom socialised with anyone other than either business acquaintances or subs at any other time. I had forgotten that I am a skinhead and all that it entails, and my life was miserable because of that.
I knew what he said was the truth, but I didn't know how I was going to sort things out. My first step was to unload some of the workload I had taken on myself. The woman who had been my secretary since I took over had continually proved herself worthy of my trust and I sat down with her, negotiated a package where she would basically be office manager and handle the day-to-day running of the business. My other main problem was the computerisation on the business, which had already started, and I was struggling to keep one step ahead of the problems that kept arising.
Again Chick came to my rescue with a strange offer.
"I understand your computer problems," he said. "What you need is a good, dependable delivery driver". Even I couldn't understand that one, but he explained that his boy was an I.T. expert unhappy in a large firm and looking for something else. His boy would not leave London without Chick, although they had both talked about moving away several times. The solution was, I give Chick a job as a driver, take his boy on as an I.T. manager and another problem was solved.
I went away, sobered up and did some sums. It would work and I could afford it. Hiring an in-house I.T. manager would reduce the fees I was paying to so-called experts, and having a delivery system of our own would be more dependable and cost effective than using carriers. We agreed salaries, including use of the flat I had bought before Freddy died, and they moved within two weeks.
My only other problem was the upkeep of the house and, to a lesser extent, the garden. Chick immediately volunteered to maintain the garden, a life-long passion of his. I had a sub who visited me regularly called Tim; he was in his 40s and living off a small pension. His big thing was servitude and humiliation. I sent for him and put it to him that he look after me and my house for a salary: he was mortified at the thought of taking payment from me, but begged for the chance to serve me. I agreed if he would move into the house and live rent-free and he agreed to that. He now takes care of all my housekeeping and cooking needs; he does a great job and I keep telling him how useless he is, occasionally giving him a slap and threatening to replace him. He is a first-class toilet, allowing me to sit watching TV or reading with a few beers then calling him so I can have a piss without leaving my chair.
Even a couple of my straight mates have used him like this and think it a great laugh. He can take a load from three or four guys, one after the other, and never spill a drop.
I also got rid of most of my 'visitors', keeping only a few who give me special pleasure. I still see Jim occasionally and we either have a boxing match or I just give him the whipping he so much enjoys. I have a sub called Eric who moved to Germany a few years ago but still comes every year. He stays for two weeks, Eight days for long-term abuse and six days to recover. A typical treatment for him would be to be cuffed, gagged and diapered and placed in a body bag then into a coffin. He stays there for three or four days, during which time I will ignore him.
When he is removed, his gag and diaper are removed and the diaper is tied around his face, he is secured to a wall and fuck beads are inserted. While in this position I will whip him at infrequent intervals. He never knows how many lashes he will receive, sometimes twelve, sometimes one. After two days of this, he is secured to the fuck-table and washed and shaved. Salt water is rubbed over the shaved areas and he is left until he stops screaming. I carry on with skin piercing, using clean hypodermic needles, puncturing his pumped nipples in three directions then six more on his pecs. Eight needles are inserted in each underarm then 12 in each inner thigh. Finally 6 are placed in his scrotum. When the needles are removed, he is strapped into a leather harness and I use clips on his skin, clothes pegs in some areas, metal clips in others. When these are all in place, a complete row down either side from armpits to knees, plus two rows from nipple to crotch and a further row down each inner leg, he then has the dried diaper removed from his face and he is blindfolded, his ears plugged and the harness is attached to a hoist. Leg restraints are fitted then attached to another hoist and he is left hanging for 24 hours: a parachute ball-stretcher is fitted to him with heavy weights and a catheter is fitted. During this time, the only way to ease the pain is to remain perfectly still, so occasionally I will burn his arse or a nipple with my cigarette making him jump and scream, causing the clips to shake and cause more pain. The following evening he is taken down, the clips removed (almost as sore as putting them on) and he is put in a sling. By this time he is delirious and open for anything. Although he is fucked regularly at any other time, the only time he is fisted is when I have him in this state, so each time is one year apart and like the first time every time. After he is properly opened, he is fucked as often as I can arrange both by myself and by mates. When he is not being fucked he is being rammed with dildoes or wearing a butt plug. Sometimes he has to resort to poppers to stand the pace, but never in the years I have known him has he ever asked me to even pause. When he passes out completely, he is taken down and put to bed. The nurse who cared for Freddy attends his wounds and builds his strength again before he is fit to go home. The last thing I do before he leaves is put a cigarette burn on each foot so that the memory of his time with me will remain with him for the next few days every time he takes a step.
Chick has built some kennels outside; excellent for keeping subs in overnight, especially when it just starts to turn cold at night. Recently we had some fun when Chick was digging some draining trenches, I contacted a sub who I knew would be up for what I had in mind then had a slightly larger than usual coffin built. He was placed in the coffin with bottled water, an air pipe was fitted and he was lowered into the ground and covered with soil. The air pipe was kept high enough to prevent getting covered over, but curved at the top to prevent rain getting in. The coffin was lined with animal litter to absorb his piss and he had an electric buzzer to call for help. Several times a day someone would buzz him and he would give one short buzz to indicate he was OK. He trusted me that if he buzzed twice, he would be dug up. He stayed down for eight days, only lack of water forcing him to concede. He said that the sound of the earth hitting the lid of the coffin was the most terrifying, most exciting thing he ever heard
I have made a few mates locally, both gay and straight, and not all skinheads, but mostly head bangers of one kind or another and I have started enjoying life again. Having Chick living nearby is good too, sometimes I take a notion and we head for London, Amsterdam or Berlin for the weekend. Sometimes Chick brings his boy round and they use my playroom, but other times he will find some fresh meat and we play together. Recently I met a nice young guy and I like him enough to have 'ordinary' sex with him. He won't be another Mark, I realise I tried too much to control him, but we get along OK and who knows.
Meantime, Tim continues to take care of me, my cook, housekeeper, ashtray and toilet. He doesn't know it, but I have set up a small savings account for him for his retirement, and he agreed to let me send some money to his parents at Christmas and holidays. Every few weeks he visits them, but I have to practically throw him out of the house to go, I think he is terrified I might discover I can manage without him
I will soon be 30, and I have a good life. I went a bit astray somewhere, but I think I'm back on track, and if I slip again, I have mates who will tell me. The important thing is, I remembered again how much fun it is to be a skinhead, to get drunk, maybe have a fight and know that I am in company who will take care of me and back me up. Most importantly, I have a laugh.