BRB
Master rescheduled our flight home from San Francisco for one day later. We flew in on Monday, two days before the conference began, because he was one of the speakers at the conference and was also on the planning committee. He was finally relaxed after working so hard the past few months, and he wanted to enjoy the city for a day longer.
When we arrived in San Francisco Monday afternoon, we checked into the hotel and then went to the tattoo parlor. Master walked in first, and I was my usual one step behind him. He looked around for a few seconds, grabbed my arm, and we walked out the door. I was totally confused what Master wanted me to do then, and it must have shown on my face.
There was a bench outside the tattoo parlor; Master sat down, and he told me to sit down next to him. He looked me in the eye and said, "Slave, the idea of a tattoo with my name on your crotch and my initials on your arms sounded exciting to me, but now that we're here, I've changed my mind. I don't need a tattoo on your body to prove you're my property. You and I know who we are and we'll keep our dignity preserved in that way."
"Thank you, Master; at forty-six-years-old, I was getting nervous."
"Well Slave, your Master, who is only one year younger, lost his head for a little while. Our private life together is exactly that: private. Now, since neither one of us has ever been here before, let's enjoy this beautiful city and this beautiful afternoon."
Each day while he was at the conference, I stayed in the room to complete work I brought with me that needed to be sent to my editor. At night, I was given permission to leave the room for thirty minutes to go to the hotel dining room and bring a meal back to the room. He met an attorney from Boston, who left his slave at home. The two of them went out every night to eat dinner and to tour the city. Master fucked me every day we were there, using his hands for CBT and his ties to tie me up for sex, since his toys were left in the playroom at home.
"TGIF! My part of the conference is over, and it's too pretty a day for even a slave to be in a hotel room." I was given permission to tour San Francisco and Napa Valley and was grateful to leave the hotel for the first time since Monday night. But the best part of the day would be spending time with Master.
When we got home on Saturday, Master was extremely tired. He rested while I unpacked our luggage, cleaned the house, and ran some errands. On Sunday afternoon, he took me to the office with him to help him catch up on some work.
He left for work on Monday, and I planned on working from home for the next two weeks. While dusting the furniture in the office, I looked at a picture on his desk of us visiting the Eiffel Tower over a decade ago. Suddenly I started crying for two reasons: Kevin, an advertising executive, spent the night with Master and looking at this picture of our past life brought back so many fond and loving memories.
It still hurts seeing my Master with other men; even though; I realize this is his privilege and having no rights of my own, mine is to not question his decisions. It's something I've accepted as reality, but it still hurts. I accidently sat on the leather couch as my eyes filled up with more and more tears. Realizing my mistake, I quickly got up, still crying.
Master walked in his office at that moment when I was getting up from the sofa. He was tired from the conference and staying up late the night before fucking Kevin. He had decided to come home for a little while to tell me some good news and rest for a few minutes. Having caught me on the furniture he angrily said. "I have two quick questions, Slave. Why are you crying, and why is your inadequate slave ass on my furniture'?"
Master, now sitting in the wing back chair next to the sofa said, "Kneel slave, and explain what made you think your sorry slave ass could sit on your Master's furniture? I'm tired from the conference, so for your punishment, I'll probably blister your ass now and torture you later tonight when I have more time and can have more fun watching you squirm."
I explained to Master that I accepted his desire to be with other men and as his slave it was really none of my business, but it was hard seeing Kevin with him last night. He complimented me for recognizing my slave status. I then explained to him that also seeing this picture brought back so many nice memories and that brought on my tears. I then asked for his forgiveness.
The anger showed on Master's face as he began speaking. "Slave, you now exist to serve me. Taking care of my needs is your only purpose in life. Eating my toe jam and drinking my piss are two degrading tasks to any real man, but they are rewards to an inferior like you. Looking down at you on the floor right now is where you belong, and I enjoy seeing you there.
" I understand Master; at times it still hurts to see you with other men."
"Slave, think about our past life. You worshiped my feet; I never touched yours. You were always a bottom, and basically you never gave any resistance to my fucking you. Yes, sometimes I knew you were tired, but you let me fuck you anyway, and I did. While I'd sleep in on Saturday mornings, you'd clean the house. I cooked maybe three meals in fourteen years. You did most of the yard work, while I played tennis. Of course, as you now know, sometimes the tennis equipment never left the car, but Chuck, or Rick, or Scott, and others did. So in a way, you were always in a submissive role to me. What's different now is that I own you, and now if I want to get a piece of ass on the side, I can do it openly. I like finding and fucking new bottoms and will continue to do so because I can. I love, love, love fucking other men. Accept this reality soon to help make the rest of your life as my slave easier for you."
Wiping my eyes, I asked Master for his forgiveness. He showed no emotion and did not even look at me to respond.
" Meet me in the playroom. Get in the Submit position, and wait for me."
I was hoping Master would have mercy, but I was out of luck. There was no point in asking him for it because the look on his face when he saw me get up from the sofa spoke volumes. It was best for my own sake to be even more submissive than usual.
I quickly went into the playroom and assumed the Submit position, I kneeled in the middle of the room with my head lowered and waited for what seemed like hours. I was getting mentally prepared for the torture he would find necessary. His wisdom in applying the appropriate punishment and torture has helped me and continues to help me in my journey over the past five years to become a slave worthy of his ownership.
The door opened, Master walked in and stood directly in front of me, wearing leather boots. My punishment would start off with the toughest punishment he inflicts on me, and thank goodness not very often. When he allows me to look up, I need to be holding my balls in place, and he will step on them while wearing his boots. Depending how well I hold them and how easily he can get to them depends on the strength he will use. When Master wears leather, there is no mercy.
Using his right boot, he lowered my face towards the floor, now holding it in place on his left boot. All he said was "Start licking." My tongue started licking the tip of his boot and moved all the way to the top, never stopping in the hopes that this would please Master. After a few minutes, he pulled his left boot away and replaced it with his right one. I continued licking his boots and savored the leathery taste Master's boots offered me.
"That's good," as he then kept my head on the floor with his boot keeping me securely in place. He then removed his boot from my face, walked away for about a minute, and then returned once again in front of my face now touching the ground.
"You may now look at your Master."
Looking up, I could see Master was also wearing a leather jockstrap, a leather armband, and his leather cap. He was now holding a leather flogger in his right hand.
"You know what to do."
I grabbed my balls in my hand and held on to them tightly. Master walked up to me and lifted his right foot and stepped on them. I let out a moan of pain because the top of his boot crushed my balls, which brought instant pain. He then used the tip of his boot, and with all his strength started rubbing and again pressing on my balls. Lifting his right boot up, he then repositioned it directly under my ball sac and gave them a few upward kicks. It was becoming difficult to hold my balls up because each time he stepped on my balls or kicked them brought more pain. Still holding them for his convenience was getting harder to do with the increased pain. I let out a moan and closed my eyes as if having them closed would decrease the pain.
"Stop your moaning; I'm not finished." He lifted his boot up again and continued stepping on my balls. He soon switched feet and got even rougher. A few minutes later he told me, "Let go of your balls so I can step on your whole dick." He then rubbed the shaft of my dick with his boots applying more and more pressure. After a few minutes, he then lifted his left boot up a few inches, and I could see its quick descent making a crash landing on the head of my dick.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhh!" I screamed because whenever Master did this in the past, it did not hurt as much as it did today. The bottoms of his new boots are a rougher texture from his old pair causing everything to hurt more. He once again rubbed his boot all along my dick, still applying pressure every few seconds. Once he stopped, the pain was so intense; I rolled on the floor in a fetal position, moaning, as the pain seemed to intensify with each passing second. Figuring it would be no use, in my fetal position, I still asked, "Mercy, please Master, mercy."
"Get your act together Slave, you have one minute."
My dick was already throbbing in excruciating pain. How could the pain seem to intensify the longer I was away from Master's boots, but it did. This was the roughest he had ever gotten with me.
Now sitting in a chair near the window, Master told me to crawl to him. With each movement forward in the crawling position, my balls would move and release even more pain. I finally reached Master's feet and once again assumed the Submit position. Movement intensified the pain, and I was badly wanted to ask Master once again for mercy, but I would be receiving none. My hope that by my Submitting to him without being told to do so would prove my desire to be dominated and possibly end this torture session.
He then said, "Let me see your balls," and he then grabbed and squeezed them several more times. When he did this, I screamed from the pain, and again started to fall. "They're pretty sore from my boots. CBT is over for today, boy. That's too bad, it looks like you were really enjoying yourself."
Master then put a brand new collar around my neck. This one was a link chain with a lock. "Boy this is a new collar, and as part of your punishment, you will wear it all the time until further notice. It's a masculine look for when you are out in the public. Should anyone ask you about it, you will say, 'Brian gave it to me, and I love it. I haven't taken it off since he gave it to me.' When I decide you no longer have to wear your collar all the time, you will be able to take it off and go back to wearing your collar only at home.
I asked Master if it could be loosened one notch because it was very tight, and he granted this request. I told him thank you, and he acknowledged me.
I was then told to kiss the tops of his feet, followed by kissing the tops of each of his toes. He then pulled his feet away and he told me to lie on my back on the floor. "This is what got us to this lifestyle; your desire to worship my feet. You want these feet on your face Slave?"
"Yes, Master, please?"
Worshiping the sweaty, stinking feet of a strong, dominant man at least brought my worthless slave you up the social ladder. The sweat from my feet is better smelling than any slave cologne you wear."
He then lifted his right foot up in the air, and I watched it come down on my face. I licked the soles of his feet from the heels of his feet up to his toes. At times he would press his foot up to my nose for me to breathe in his foot sweat. I made a meal of his toe jam, kissed the tops and bottoms of his toes, and sucked his toes. Sometimes all five of them were in my mouth at once. I lapped every drop of his foot sweat, which was a result of his leather boots. As he moved his foot, I moaned with pleasure to be at the perfectly arched and sexy feet of my Master. The whole time I was sucking his toes and worshiping Master's feet, he was stroking his dick, but I wasn't given the honor of receiving his superior seed.
Pulling his feet away, he stood up and said, "Submit."
I again assumed the Submit position for Master and once again waited longer than usual. Being in the Submit position longer usually meant the sessions would last longer. The delay in getting started for Master to have his fun in torturing me was not a good sign.
"Licking foot sweat, you have such untapped potential. Yippee! You must be so proud to have finally found success at something."
Hoping CBT would in fact actually be over and Round II would not start after this downtime, I resumed kissing my Master's feet while admiring their beauty.
"Now, I'm wondering if I'll have to keep spending time in reminding a useless, inferior, slave who can sit on the furniture in this house and who can't." He then walked around to the back of me and stood there for a while. I did everything possible not to move and possibly add to my torture.
"This is a nice bubble butt you've maintained all these years." I didn't know if I should thank Master or not, so I said nothing. "It's too bad such a nice ass is wasted on a slave and not on a real man. What a pity?"
He then kicked me in the ass with his foot several times. "This is also the arrogant ass that thinks it is allowed to sit on the furniture in his Master's office. He reached down and pulled me up.
"I'm tired; I wanted to take a quick nap and go back to the office. Now, here I am, having to discipline my slave, who I thought had been a well- trained slave in his obedience to his Master." He told me to kneel and submit once more.
He then walked away from me, walked towards the wall, and removed two pictures. I could see part of what he was doing even with my bowed head. He then went to the bed where he now left out all of his sex toys until company visited, and grabbed several things, but I couldn't see what they were. The whole time Master was preparing for the second round, I kept saying to myself, "Please Master, please have mercy." My crotch was showing no mercy either in its pain going away anytime soon.
He then attached handcuffs on my wrists and slid the cuffs on the hooks in the wall. I was going nowhere. Then he walked up behind me and speaking softly in my ear he said, "That arrogant slave ass that thinks it can sit on a Master's furniture will now get an updated lesson on who can sit on furniture in this house and who can't."
For what must half been a half hour, my butt was caned, spanked with his riding crop, along with his hands, belt, and flip-flops. There wasn't much down time. Right as I'd get used to a few light whacks, Master would then intensify them once more. Finally stopping, Master then said, "Nice and red with a few welts, that should stay for a few days."
I was then unbound, told to take a shower, to return to the office dressed for a business occasion. I would be spending the afternoon with Master.
Quickly reporting back to his office, I was dressed as instructed: charcoal gray slacks, a blue shirt, and the silk tie with sites from Florida he really likes. I kneeled at his feet with my head lowered.
"Your balls hurt, boy?
"Yes Master; I'm sorry I disappointed you."
"I know I was rougher than usual on your balls today." I nodded my head to answer his question without speaking. "He then once again grabbed them and gave them an even tighter squeeze, and I let out the loudest moan I had that day. He then slapped both sides of my face and reprimanded me for not enjoying his sexual fun.
Now sitting on the leather Chippendale sofa, Master told me to kneel. He told me to look up because he wanted to look into my eyes to discuss a few matters with me. He saw the look of concern in my face and said, "It's not bad news, slave; just relax and listen."
Master explained that he had reprimanded Marty and threatened to fire him if he continued to humiliate Collin at work. Master said that even though Collin was now a slave, in his twenty-five years as an attorney, he was a highly respected and a highly ethical attorney who brought impressive credentials to the firm. During their first interview, Collin asked to bring Marty with him as his paralegal, and Master reluctantly agreed.
His voice then got more forceful and his anger returned when he said, "Marty is thirty-three-years old. Even though, he's seventeen years younger than Collin, he should still be mature enough and responsible enough to separate office responsibilities from home life." Master then said Marty was on now a three month probation period, sent home on a weeks leave with pay, and would be assigned as the paralegal to a recently hired female attorney who would be starting work there in a week.
"Slave, you didn't deserve the intensity of the pain I put you through because of my anger with Marty. I have no guilt in blistering your ass like I just did for sitting on the furniture or having my fun whacking the shit out of your balls for CBT, but today I was wrong." Master then said, "I now have three pieces of good news to tell you."
He told me that he was going to a Chamber of Commerce luncheon, and I would be joining him. Several people in the chamber, who know Master and I are a couple, had contacted him that morning and asked if I would be available to speak briefly about my writing career at their luncheon today because their guest speaker woke up with the flu and had to cancel. Master volunteered my services to do this.
He then said that as my attorney, he received a phone call that Livingston Productions was interested in buying the movie rights to the newest book in the Ted Elliott Doctor Detective series. Master then bent down, lifted my head, hugged me, and said, "I'm proud of you."
He said, " I can picture your Grandpa in Heaven telling everyone there, 'Another movie made about an old coot like me.' I think of your grandpa often with his warm smile and kind heart still being so proud of you. He was a caring and loving man."
"Thank you, Master."
Master then told me to stand up. He gave me permission to sit with him on the sofa. He hugged me tightly, and it felt so good to be wrapped in his arms. He then said, "I know Grandpa became a father figure to you after you dad died in Vietnam when you were only six months old. I loved him from the first time I met him and he chewed my butt out." He then released me and told me to get back on the floor where I belonged. "Slaveboy, I'll tell you something I never told you before."
"Master, what do you mean? He loved you; he told me that all the time."
"The first time I went to Florida to meet your family we talked while you were still sleeping. Grandpa saw me walk out of the guest room and was upset I hadn't slept with you in your old bedroom. He said that's where I belonged, and we didn't have to hide who we are to each other in his house. He realized you were gay when you were in high school, always loved you, and always wanted you to be happy. He told me I was a 'keeper' because you had never brought anyone home before to meet him, and he expected me to always be good to you. I highly respected and loved your Grandpa so much."
Master then told me that they talked about how he always loved my mom and accepted her remarriage when I was seven-years-old. Changing my last name was hard for him to accept since I am the last male to carry on the Elliott name.
"As your Master, I am giving you a new name. The paperwork for this has already begun. Professionally, you will still be Rick Michaels. For personal and legal matters, here is your new slave name." He handed me an index card, and told me to read it to him.
"Richard James Michaels Elliott Carter; I'll be Richard Carter."
"You gave me your two greatest possessions: your independence and your heart. Yes, slave, I still think of you as my husband and still love you. It makes sense the name I am giving you is Rick Elliott Carter. You now have my heart and my name."
"I'm so happy, Master; thank you."
"You're more than welcome, but don't get too sentimental. We're going to a nice luncheon today and then coming home because I still want to fuck that slave ass of yours."