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I Have Never Seen My Master's Face
Part 5 – Pleasure
My new owner, Mr K had left the house on business, and I was left alone in my little cell, without seeing anyone except his servant, Mason, who brought me my thick gray meal shakes several times a day. Now the dead of night, I had been left alone in the house with just one of Mr K's guards, a huge blond beast called Dugan. Dugan had taken the opportunity to rape my mouth and ass with his raging cock, and unload what he said was several week's worth of cum inside me. On his way out he'd made sure I knew that if I told anyone, he'd respond violently. Against me, or even Mr K.
I was lying across Mr K's `altar', the leather covered table which dominated his play room, a large, dark space where he had introduced me to my new role as his slave. As I caught my breath, I looked around and realized I, the table, and the floor around me were covered with wet juices, some of them Dugan's cum dripping out of my asshole, some of it mucusy vomit I'd gagged up when he fucked my throat, and I guess some of it sweat and spit.
I dashed to my little cell on the side of the room an grabbed the rough towel, and started to wipe up the mess. I guess now I should have left it so Mason or Mr K would know someone had been using the space, but at the time I just felt like I had made the mess, without having gotten permission to leave my room. I had to clean it up. I wet down the towel under the shower pipe and dashed back out to the playroom.
After wiping everything down as best I could, I went back to my cell and closed the door. I climbed into my little cold shower stall with the soiled towel and washed myself down as well as I could. I tried to wipe off the excess water without smearing of the wet mess on me, and then I rinsed out the towel. I hung up the towel on its little hook and sat on the edge of my cot, shivering.
I don't remember falling asleep, but I woke up some time later--it was getting light outside--having crawled under my blanket. My mind was kind of blank. I'd been Mr K's sex slave for only a few days, and only had one night learning to serve him properly, and I'd been raped and threatened by one of his guards. I didn't know what to do or say. Probably nothing.
I don't know how long it was before I heard someone walking across the granite tiled floor outside, but there was a soft knock on the door. I didn't move but I closed my eyes just in case it was Mr K, who I was under orders never to look in the face.
"Breakfast." Mason said simply. On my first night, he had seemed concerned about me, that I knew the rules and understood what was happening to me. Since then he'd been more all-business. He saw me under the covers and gave me a look. "Mr K will be back this afternoon. He's probably going to want to relax. With you."
"I..." I almost said something about Dugan's activity the night before, but I just swallowed and said "I'll be ready for him."
Mason kind of smiled his half smile. "Of course you will be."
I sat up and drank my meal of thick gray sludge. I suppose it was still laced with the sedative they'd been giving me, to keep me docile, but I couldn't really tell anymore.
I was looking forward to Mr K. I knew Mr K owned me, that my life was completely in his hands, and it didn't bother me. I'd been a complete a fuck up in my previous life. Mr K had taken control of me and I was glad to give it up. I wanted to make my new, charismatic owner proud, to make him glad he'd bought my debt. I wasn't going to let Dugan's sexual frustration, or threats, get in the way of that.
I wanted to go out to the altar and make sure everything was clean from Dugan's using me, but I didn't know who would be watching the monitors, and didn't want to know what the punishment would be for leaving my little room without permission.
I must have dozed off again. When I came to, I decided to shower and douche again, just to make sure I was ready for Mr K when he came for me. To my surprise, the towel was bone dry. Someone must have changed it. Again while I was asleep and without me noticing.
Strange encounters with the hired guard aside, I'd gotten to understand the routine, at least when Mr K wasn't around to change things up. First thing in the morning, and then again four or five more times through the day, Mason would come down with a meal-shake for me. Other than that, I never saw anyone or really heard anything from outside my little cell.
Later on, Mason came down with two shakes. "Mr K is upstairs resting, but he'll want to come down to play before long. You'll probably miss a meal, so take an extra one now." He set the two tumblers down on the small table beside my cot. "They keep pretty well, if you want to save some for after. It will probably be too late to bring you one after Mr K is done with you."
I drank down my first shake in case Mr K was going to appear immediately. He didn't, so I sat on my little cot and tried to think. I should have been thinking a lot, having nothing to do for hours on end. Worrying, planning. But I was realizing that I'd tuned out most of those hours. Alone in my little cell, in between meal drops from Mason, time didn't seem to mean anything.
I don't know how long it as before I heard footsteps in the dungeon beyond the narrow door. Figuring that it was Mr K, I got to my knees and bowed my head, as I had been ordered to do whenever he entered a room. I was squeezing my eyes shut when the door opened quickly. I was glad I'd knelt, because it was Mr K. "There's my boy," he said in his rich baritone. His voice made me shiver. He tossed a long cloth over my shoulders. By feel I could tell it the blindfold that had been used on me before. "Think you can get this on yourself?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. When you're sure it's on properly, you may come out. On your knees." He closed the door.
Though long and black it was actually quite shear. I sort of scrunched it up and wound it around my eyes and head, five times I think, tucking the ends in securely. I shook my head to make sure it wouldn't come off.
I carefully opened the door and scooted out on my knees. Mr K stepped in front of me. "I'm glad to see you." That made me proud. "I could hardly concentrate on my work thinking about all the sexy things I would do to you."
I couldn't help myself. Somehow a choking sob escaped my throat and I threw myself at Mr K, wrapping my arms around his legs. "I'm glad you're back. I want to be your good boy. I want to be the best boy you've ever had".
He chuckled. "You're adjusting to this faster than any of your predecessors." He ruffled my hair with his hand as he might a small boy. "Come on." He lifted me to my feet and walked me into the room.
He stopped me and told me to stand up straight. I kept my head bowed. He didn't tell me not to. He ran his hands over my chest. "These marks are healing up nicely. Almost no swelling left at all."
He ran his hands down my back. I broke out in goosebumps. He pressed his hand into my back, bending me over. His other hand slipped between my asscheeks and brushed over my hole. "Still swollen back here. I'd expected you to be back to normal by now."
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him that Dugan had fucked me hard the night before, but I swallowed that. "It's all right. I missed you, sir.
"You haven't been fingering yourself unnecessarily, have you?"
"Oh, no, sir."
He moved around me and took my hand, pressing it into his crotch. "Feel what you do to me. I've been hard for you since I left."
His praise felt like a warm hug. I stood up straighter, still with my eyes tightly shut in my blindfold, and puffed out my chest. "Let me please you," I whispered roughly. I needed to touch him. To feel his hot hard flesh and make it feel good.
He played his hands through my hair and over my face and throat. "You are a beauty. And you made me feel very good the other night." He guided me back to the leather table, his `altar', and helped me lie down on my belly. "Now I want to take my time."
He picked up something from the shelves on the wall and returned. He set something on my back, part cold metal, part warm leather. With one piece he wrapped my wrist in soft leather and let the attached heavy chain drop over the side of the table. Securing the other wrist he went back to the shelves and put something between my ankles, wrapping each in another leather cuff. There must have been a bar between them because my legs were held apart.
He reached between my legs and wiggled my balls and cock out from under me. "Hard already?" he asked. "Nice to know I have this effect on you."
"Please, master, touch me. Anywhere you like. Your hands are so strong and warm."
"Mmm," he moaned as he pressed his hands into my thighs and rubbed up, to under my butt cheeks. Hooking his thumbs near my hole he pulled my cheeks apart and kneaded them with his hands. "You have such lovely buns. Lean, but round." He slapped one cheek and I jumped.
He continued to glide his hands into the small of my back and traced them up my side. "You could probably have made some decent money dancing in bar. Maybe not enough to cover your debt, but you shouldn't have been selling your body to strangers on the street." He rubbed between my shoulder blades. "More money to be made dancing for men in clubs anyway. And more control over who you sell your other services to."
I'd never considered go-go dancing. Seen videos. He was right. I even knew where there was a gay go-go bar. Just another example of how stupid I was on my own. "Do you want me to dance for you like that?" If that's what he wanted, I could learn to do that.
"Maybe one day. But probably with an audience. More fun in a loud club with lots of money and liquor flying around." He traced my ears with his fingertips. "Now, sshh."
He ran his fingers through my hair again. Gripping and tugging at a few locks. "All mine," he murmured. He stepped in front of my head, draped over the edge of the table, and I felt him press his crotch into my head. I and rubbed my face against his hardness through the fine cloth, breathing warm moist air over his meat.
"Use your mouth to lower my fly."
It took a while to work my neck around to get my lips close to his zipper. I finally got it between my teeth and started to draw it down, down, down slowly. He was wearing another one of those fine, soft suits and his zipper was absolutely silent.
I wiggled my head and pressed my nose into the open fly. He smelled a little musky, but clean. He smelled like sex. I never knew precum smelled before. It turned me on to smell it, knowing he was hard, knowing that I would be tasked with pleasuring that towering, pulsing column of flesh.
He reached into his fly and pulled out his meat. The heat coming off it, still half soft, was like feeling sunlight on my skin. I still had never really seen it, but I knew it was big. Very big. And thick. And in spite of the battering I'd received from Dugan, I as anxious to feel it in me again.
He brushed it gently against my cheek and I turned to kiss it.
"Please, sir, may I look at it?"
"No," he said quietly. "Not yet. But rub your face against it. Let it know how happy you are to have it back."
I bent my neck so I could feel its weight against the side of my face, letting its heat bake into my cheek, over my eyes, over my forehead. Without permission I opened my lips and caught a taste of the wet drop of pre forming at its slit. I rubbed my closed lips up one side and down the other. I nuzzled it as it got fully hard for me and begged "I want to suck it."
"No." he said simply.
So I kept rubbing my face against his hard cock, feeling its rigidity resist as I pressed it up, down, to the side. I rubbed it under my nose and inhaled deeply, getting that sweet, manly, sexy smell. I pressed my face into the smooth fabric of his suit and rubbed my nose into the open fly, and let my tongue wander inside, trying to get at his big egg-sized balls.
"No," he said, grabbing my hair and pulling me away. "Just my cock for now, boy."
I decided to take the challenge. Just using my face I rubbed and pressed. I whipped my face back and forth trying to dickslap myself. I pressed my lips against the base and planted small dry kisses up and down the shaft. I used my nose to tease the V under his bulbous cockhead and was rewarded with another drop of precum.
"You need a shave. I'll make sure Mason gets you a safety razor and foam."
I was ashamed. "I'm sorry, sir."
"If I let you put it in your mouth, I want you to swallow it, all the way, in one stroke."
"Yes, I'll swallow it all the way down, sir, please just let me have it." I heard myself say these things. I still couldn't believe I was saying them, but deep down I meant them. I felt his fingers pass over my lips. I opened my mouth and lapped at them like a dog. His dog. So grateful that he was with me, touching me, that he was going to let me please him. After Dugan's abuse, I was grateful to be allowed to try to give my owner pleasure, rather than just being used.
"Open wide." I complied. "Remember, one stroke, all at once. NOW!" He jammed his cock into my open mouth and I felt it press the back of my tongue. I fought to avoid gagging as it continued into my throat. I had to stretch my neck to accommodate its length and could barely fit my mouth around its girth. Even opening as wide as I could I couldn't keep my teeth off it and I was afraid that he would be angry.
But then I felt his suit fabric pressing against my face. I'd done it. I'd taken it all at once. My throat was rebelling, but his hand gently pressed the back of my head as I felt his amazing cock settle into my gullet, my lips pressing into the soft fabric of his fly.
The last time he'd invaded my throat like this, he'd cut off my air and fucked my throat without pulling out. He came just as I passed out. I could feel my throat churning, trying to expel the invader, but I fought down the panic. I wanted his cock in me, and I was getting it. He knew I couldn't breathe, and if he didn't want me to, I wouldn't. That was how it was. I belonged to him now.
I had the presence of mind to try to stick out my tongue, rubbing the length of his shaft within my mouth. I could tell he liked it so I kept at it. Finally as my head began to spin he pulled out. I felt my body gulp down a few hot breaths through my nose as soon as my airway was clear. His egg-sized cockhead was still in my mouth and I tried to keep fluttering and pressing my tongue against it, rubbing in circles around his tight V.
His hips began to move in slow, lazy circles, pressing in and out of my face. It felt as though he was working at stretching my throat, boring into it with hard flesh little by little.
After a few strokes, he would pull out partially so I could catch another few breaths. His egg-like glans would sit behind my lips, dripping its sweet honey. Maybe it was the sedatives, or maybe there was something in his pre that was actually addictive. I was starting to crave it. As it hit my tongue, I would salivate more, allowing him to glide easily back into my throat. When he withdrew, rivers of slobber would run down my chin.
Time seemed to lose all meaning since becoming his slave. When I was alone in my little cell, I had little memory of time passing. When I was with him, the whole world seemed to be just this room. His presence. If I hadn't been his sex slave before, I was definitely becoming one. I felt whole being with him, touching him, pleasuring him in any way I could.
My craned neck began to ache and shiver and he withdrew completely and stepped away from me. I kept my mouth open, drool running out, hoping he'd come back and feed me more of his hard meat. "You're dripping everywhere. You've soiled my suit with your dirty slobber."
I tensed. Was I going to be punished for letting my spit stain is expensive suit? I felt him grab the bar between my ankles and attach it to something above the table. There was a whirr and my feet rose into the air. This arched my hips and back so that I was supported on my chest and neck with my feet in the air behind me. I felt him reach for my dick and give it a few strokes. Of course it was still hard and also dripping with precum.
"Naughty boy. Nasty boy," he murmured.
"Please, sir," I begged. "I'm sorry. I didn't know how much I was drooling."
But he kept stroking my dick, gently, up and down, murmuring "Dirty boy, nasty boy, naughty boy."
"Please, sir, I'll do better. I promise.
But he kept stroking with his strong soft hand. My dick was fully hard and he stroked it, slowly, gently, not quite milking it has he had done to me before. "You like it when I restrain you, don't you, nasty boy?"
"Yes, sir. I – I like it when I'm with you."
"And you like it when I touch you like this," he said matter-of-factly.
"I – I just like when you touch me, sir."
He released my dick and formed a circle around my scrotum with his fingers. "You like me touching your nasty, dirty penis."
"Ye—yes sir. But I keep very clean for you, sir. Touch me anywhere, sir. Touch me anywhere, any way you like," I begged.
He closed a couple more fingers around my sack, pulling gently on my balls. "How does this feel, naughty boy?"
"Nice, sir. Your hand is so warm."
He closed his fist around my scrotum which pressed my balls painfully into the end of my stretched ballsack. "Does this hurt?"
"A little. Sir."
"But you still enjoy it." It was a statement. I didn't respond.
He pulled a little, sending a shiver up my body and sending the beginning of that sick feeling into my stomach. It was on the tip of my tongue to say something when I felt his other hand, the palm I guess, cup my balls as they stuck out of his fist. He began to rub my balls around in small circles, tugging on my sack and pressing gently with his other hand. It wasn't comfortable, but it didn't really hurt. "You have such a lovely body. Responsive." He pulled on me sharply. I tried to stifle the yelp. "Your dick gets so hard when I touch you. You like it, isn't that right, boy?"
"Yes, sir," I rasped.
He began to pat my balls with his free hand. Tapping quickly, a bit harder with every tap. That sick feeling in my belly grew as he began to gently slap my balls. I didn't want to protest. I bit my lip and tried to stay still and silent.
The pressure on my arched back was starting to ache too. I felt him slapping my balls, every time it hurt a little more, made me shake a little more, sending little sparks of pain into my gut. I could hear the slaps now, as he began to tug sharply on my ballsack with the one hand to meet his up-slapping palm of the other, sending waves of that nauseated feeling into my stomach, and now jolts of pain through my back and hips.
"Sir!" I finally cried. He stopped. "Please, sir, I don't think I can take much more."
"Are you telling me to stop?"
My mind was racing. "No, sir." He wouldn't react well if I dared tell him to stop. "Please, sir, it just hurts."
"And that should concern me?"
"I —" I wanted to say yes, he was hurting me. Yes, he might injure me if he kept it up. But I just quietly said, "No, sir. I'm ... I'm sorry, sir."
He released my balls and I felt my body jump up at the release. My shoulder slipped off the edge of the altar. He grabbed the bar between my ankles, pulled me back onto the table, and I guess disconnected me from whatever he had hung me from. Now flat on the leather pad, I could feel the cold wet drippings from my cock under my belly.
"I am not a sadist," he remind me. "I do not hurt you to watch you suffer. I do it to remind you of your place. I am your owner." He ran a finger up my spine, making me shiver. He crouched down near my head and whispered, "You like my gentle touch. You're beginning to crave it. You will learn to like my less gentle attentions. To crave them."
He rolled me over and lifted me to a sitting position on the side of the table. He did something with the chains hanging from my wrist cuffs. I heard the clatter to the floor "I'm going to pull you to your feet. You are going to walk as best you can, until you reach the St Andrews cross." I had seen the X-shaped cross at the end of the room briefly. He lifted me down until my feet were on solid ground again, still separated by the bar between them. "Forward," he ordered.
I tried to take a step and had to use my arms to keep my balance, being hobbled by the bar between my ankles.. I tried to inch each foot forward with my toes, but it was probably 20 feet to that end of the room. I teetered, barely balancing on one foot while I swung the other forward a few inches. I ended up waddling to the other side of the room that way, a few inches at a time. I wasn't sure where Mr K was at this point. Standing back watching, I guess.
I don't know how long it took me to get to the end of the room, but one foot struck something solid, and I guess I was there.
Mr K came up behind me and put his hands on my hips. He lifted me easily, without a sound, and set my spread feet on small platforms at the bottom of the cross. He lifted my cuffed wrists, and secured each to an upper leg of the cross. He wrapped my fingers around iron rings which were apparently bolted to the cross. He took some rope from somewhere and began wrapping it around my left leg, in a zig zag, I guess using hooks on the backside of the cross. At my hips he began to wrap the rope around my hips and continuing up my torso, and then continued until he had my right arm secured as well. Without a word, he stepped away. I could hear cloth against cloth. I guess he was removing his jacket, his tie, his shirt. He seemed to take some time between each article of clothing. I found out later he would always careful hang up his clothes in one of the cabinets on the sides of the room.
He stepped to another part of the room, and heard more clothes being removed form hangers, with soft swooshing noises and sharp metal tinkle sounds now and then.
Eventually, he returned to me on the cross, standing close enough that I could feel the heat from his body. He ran his hands up from my hips and under my arms, where he gripped my biceps. He pulled and tugged at me, with the rope digging slightly into my skin. I felt his warm breath and he planted one of his soft, gentle kisses on my neck. "Such a sweet boy for me to play with," he murmured. His hands came around the cross and my body and felt my chest, finding my hardened nipples. He grabbed them between his thumbs and forefingers and squeezed and pulled them away from my body.
My head lolled backward on this his shoulder and I felt leather and metal against my back. He'd swapped his clothes for a leather harness of some kind. I wasn't sure what else he had on. I'm guessing more leather.
"You like my touch." He said again simply.
"Yes, sir," I moaned as he massaged my nipples.
"You will learn to like more," He said, pinching and twisting my hard nipples. I moaned. He whispered in my ear, "You will crave it."