It Was Worth It -- a short homoerotic S&M story -- by Ant-boy@hotmail.co.uk
All the usual disclaimers, Blah! Blah! If not your scene or under age of consent don't bother to continue. Please ask for permission to publish elsewhere than on Nifty.
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He waited, impatiently. Finally he would meet his possible future Master face to face after so many weeks of emails, chats and only yesterday a short web cam contact. Only his web cam it had to be said, he still didn't really know what his visitor would look like.
He waited, in trepidation. Would he be acceptable? Would this possible Master take one look from the door and walk away, or possibly worse, use him briefly as a sex toy and disappear from his life.
He waited, with fear. Would allowance be made for his inexperience and his low pain threshold?
Would this man be prepared to take his time and build up slowly, or expect boy to suffer excessively right from the start?
He waited, had he gone to far? His messages to the man had contained fantasies far in excess of anything boy could take in real life, even allowing that his limits were to be extended. The little play he'd experienced while out crusing or as self-infliction would be, he knew, be nothing in comparison to what might happen this evening.
He waited.
It was five minutes past the arranged time. Had he got everything ready as commanded? Large plastic sheet covered with an old towel on the floor, two spray bottles full of saved piss, flasks of boiling water for coffee and soft drinks in the fridge, his case of toys laid open for the mans inspection and use, a new bottle of poppers and a selection of DVD's including the short S&M films downloaded from the net the man wanted to see. Had he forgotten anything?
It was ten minutes past the arranged time. Was his body prepared as instructed? His bowels had been flushed out for the first time, he had rubber wrist and ankle restraints fasten on, the neck collar lay to one side to be fitted by his visitor. A selection of luggage elastics lay to one side, ready to be attached from the restraints to appropriate furniture, His tightest cock ring was fitted behind his cock and balls, his shaved balls were fitted with a separator strap ready to be stretched or squeezed.
His only clothing was a short length of towel pulled between his thighs and tucked front and rear through a belt round his waist. 'I don't want to see your privates before I'm ready to abuse them,'
he'd been told, 'but when I do I want quick access.'
It was fifteen minutes past the arranged time. The boy started to panic. After all the arrangements, all the messages, had it all been a tease? Had the man changed his mind? He just couldn't go through this again, the effort it had taken him to overcome his terror of being quite defenceless at another's mercy, to have his body used for another's enjoyment without any recourse to flight.
It was twenty minutes past the arranged time. The boy rose from his position by the front door, his body was trembling, he couldn't stop his hands shaking when he slid the lock closed. This wasn't from fear, this wasn't from relief, this was his mind reacting to the knowledge his body would not finally be receiving the punishment it so desperately had been crying out for.
He walked slowly from the hall to his living room and looked around. All that preparation, and now, he wasn't even in the mood for a session on his own. Where had he gone wrong? Had the whole thing been a setup? Had his chatty emails caused the man to change his mind? Was it his fault?
The doorbell!
He turned and ran back down the hall, then slowed to a stop. It was thirty minutes past the arranged time, suppose this wasn't him? He could see his near naked body in the hall mirror; it could be anyone out there, even more than one.
A fist hammered on the door.
He took a deep breath and slid back the bolts then slowly opened the door, squinting his eyes against the setting sun whose rays shone almost directly through the open door causing the dust motes to sparkle as they drifted through the air. He had no eye for the iridescence dance they made, neither for the glorious red sunset, all eyes and thoughts concentrated on the man standing before him.
There had been no lies. He probably was in his thirties, six foot, thick short cut curly black hair, brilliant white teeth, clean shaven, a trim, well proportioned fit body, wearing a white polo shirt, dark blue shorts and white leather trainers. The only surprise he felt while looking into his visitors'
deep eyes was that he'd never considered the colour of his skin. A deep dark mahogany, almost black, a skin so shiny, so smooth emitting a slight hot aroma of sweet seat and musk he wanted to reach out and run his hands across.
'Why was the door locked boy? Didn't you read my instructions fully?' These questions were accompanied by a couple of very light slaps across boys face.
Boy immediately sunk to his knees before his new god, his eyes streaming tears, his body heaving with emotion. What could he say? There was no excuse.
The man moved one trainer clad foot and pressed it against boy's crotch. That had been the arrangement, boy could only answer if his balls were being squashed. 'Why are you crying? I didn't hit you that hard.'
Boys' response was to grab the foot and press it harder against his privates.
A hand grabbed hold of his hair, forcing him to look upwards. 'I asked, why are you crying?'
Boy knew he had to tell the truth.
'I thought you weren't coming Sir.'
'And now I'm here?'
Boy only had one possible answer for that.
'Please enjoy your boy Sir.'