Before going to bed that night I inspect my backside in the bathroom mirror. The bright redness from my Master's spanking sets off the six darker wheals from the cane. My cock stirs at the sight and I relive in my imagination the whole process of my initiation at the hands of my Master and wish I could have a wank. Before going to sleep I think of his instructions after we'd cleaned up. Me naked in his arms, he in his jeans and a tight T-shirt. We had a drink. He'd swallow half a pint of beer, then take another mouthful, place his lips over mine and feed it into my mouth. Wow! That's how a slave should drink. As he'd fondled my naked body he explained what he expected of me in the future. He was a company director and normally only free at weekends. This would be when my further training would take place. Until we met again I must not play with myself, I must not go out except to work and while in my flat I must always be naked.
The following week passed very slowly. No wanking whilst all the time being naked became quite a strain. I constantly reminded myself that being a slave meant obeying my Master's orders. He phoned me on Thursday evening. No pleasantries, simply a string of orders about preparing myself and meeting him the following evening.
On Friday I race back to my flat after work, strip out of my office clothes, shower, and get into jeans, a white T-shirt and shoes. It's a warm summer evening so the lack of underclothes or socks hardly matters. I wait for him outside Earl's Court station as instructed. It's still rush hour and crowds of people surge in and out including lots of gay guys. Many give me the eye, but I turn away to avoid any problems. At twenty to six my Master arrives looking devastatingly handsome and wickedly dressed in black leather from cap to boots. He grins, grips my arm and steers me quickly along the crowded pavement into a narrow street. We stop outside a gent's hairdressers. Or, perhaps more correctly, an old fashioned men's barbers shop.
Inside, three chairs face washbasins and mirrors. Two men in their forties and a young man about my age are having their hair cut. Two of the hairdressers are in their forties, the third about thirty. All good looking guys. The younger barber nods a welcome at Mark and waves us to an empty bench, but almost immediately he finishes with his customer who pays and leaves. The barber locks the door, turns the door sign to show the shop is closed, pulls down the blind on the door and the one on the window. Mark stands up and he and the barber hug each other.
"Nice to see you Don, how are you?" Marks greets him.
"Not bad, how's yourself Mark? This your new boy?"
Being talked about like this in front of the other men brings a blush to my cheeks.
"Yeah. Name's Ian. And so innocent he's blushing. Nice isn't it?"
Don and Mark laugh. I can see the others grinning. Mark sits down again. Don turns to me and holds out his hands.
"Let me take your shirt Ian."
I glance at Mark and he nods. Feeling embarrassed at the thought of being half-naked, I pull my shirt over my head and hand it to Don.
"Now your jeans Ian." Don grins.
"Do as your told boy." My Master speaks quietly.
I hadn't expected anything like this. Blushing furiously I unfasten the waistband button. The other barbers and customers lean forward, watching. My Master nods sharply. I lower the zip, push my jeans to the floor, take them off together with my shoes and hand them to Don.
"Hands to your sides boy." Another order from my Master.
Don places my shirt and jeans on the bench and drops my shoes under it. I stand completely naked in the middle of the shop. To add to my humiliation, my prick starts to point upwards. All eyes are on me. I bow my head, feeling partly ashamed and partly excited at this public exposure. My cock dances harder.
"Turn around boy. Let them see your arse." My Master is determined to degrade me as much as possible.
Slowly I turn around to show my still visible punishment stripes. My naughty boy's bottom. A chorus of "Wows!" A gasp of fake horror. One wolf whistle of appreciation, I think, from the young customer.
The two older barbers take my arms and guide me into a sitting position on the empty barber's chair. Don lowers the back of the chair, raises the bottom half and, with the help of the other two, spread-eagles me with my arms stretched out above my head. I notice the two customers have thrown off the cotton covers barbers use, unzipped, have their cocks out and are masturbating as they enjoy my humiliation. They're in full leather like my Master. He sits watching my predicament with a satisfied smile on his face.
Don sprays shaving cream over my crotch area and enjoys himself rubbing it in, playing with my balls and stiff penis. The other two spray my armpits and start shaving. Don, to my alarm using a cutthroat razor, carefully shaves the hair around my testicles. Next every side of my hard prick.
"What about his arse?" Don asks Mark.
"No need, it's as hairless as the day he was born."
"But his cocks harder. Good size for a slave." Don holds my prick for everyone to get a good view.
As the barbers wipe me down, we're joined by the still wanking leather duo and they aim their cocks at me. Don and his colleagues take out hard cocks and join in the action. I lift my head to look at Mark. He smiles and nods. I lie back, now excited by the prospect of five guys unloading their spunk over me.
"Can I shoot into his mouth sir? The young leather guy asks Mark.
"Sure you can Gary. Open your mouth slave. And keep your hands off your cock."
My mouth is already wide open, waiting. As ordered I snatch my hands away from my prick and raise them above my head leaving my hairless body totally exposed. One after another, with grunts and shouts, they shoot cum over my body, face, crotch, chest and Gary into my mouth. I swallow, looking into what I now realise is another slave's smiling, cheeky face. I notice for the first time he's wearing a thick leather collar around his neck. As if to prove his role, the older leather guy pushes Gary's face down onto my body.
"Lick it all up Gary boy. Show everybody what you're here for."
Gary needs no second bidding, he runs his mouth across my body and face like a Hoover, sucking up and swallowing spunk as he goes.
"You've an obedient boy there Doug." Mark compliments his fellow master.
Don rubs me dry with a towel as my Master comes across to view my hairless body. He pulls me up and kisses me on the mouth. His hands wander over my smooth armpits, smooth hairless crotch and then grips my hard prick. He pulls away.
"Now you are a proper little slaveboy and no hair to prove it. Get your jeans on."
I pull on my jeans and zip up. I'm about to put on my shirt, when my Master takes it from me.
"Can I borrow some scissors Don?"
Don hands him a pair from his pocket. Mark cuts off both sleeves at the shoulder, folds the white shirt in two cuts off the bottom half and hands the top half back to me. I pull it over my head. It stops an inch above my belly button. If it's a fashion statement, it's more female then male.
"Turn round boy. One last thing."
I feel the material of my jeans being pulled. The point of the scissors go in and there's a tearing sound. In one of the mirrors I can see a triangular flap of denim hanging down. My red right arse cheek is partly exposed.
Mark and Doug shake hands with the three barbers and we all leave. The two Masters walk ahead and we two slaves follow on behind. I wonder what passers-by must think. I'm acutely aware of my pink bottom being exposed. Along with my cutaway shirt, they must think I'm kinky or something. The knowledge I'm obeying orders is more important to me.
"How long have you been a er... a slave Gary?"
"Just over a year. What about you?"
"Well, only a week."
"You're still in training then. Your Master's one of the best. That's what mine says about him."
I'm about to ask something else when our two Masters turn and enter a pub. Gary quickly explains.
"This is our local leather bar Ian. You'll love it."
A leather bar? Beyond my comprehension. Pubs are pubs. Once inside I quickly realise this is a pub with a difference. All men for sure, but ninety percent wearing black leather even it's only a jacket. Many are like my three companions in the full gear. And the rest mostly in jeans and denim shirts. As far as I can see, I'm the only one in a cutaway shirt. At least I'm wearing jeans. We push through the crowd following Mark and Doug to a long bar. Suddenly I find myself being groped from all sides and moving on, groped again. By the time I reach Mark and the others I've had at least five guys fondling my bottom, groping my crotch or rubbing their hands over my naked midriff. Mark has already ordered four pints and passes one to me as I arrive.
Mark says, "Let's get away from the bar and find some space."
We push through the crowd again. Holding a pint in one hand, I'm even more vulnerable to groping hands. One guy pushes up my shirt and tweaks my tits and another pulls down my zip. I'm beginning to enjoy this attention, but push on thinking my Master will not approve. We find an empty table near the wall.
"Been groped boy?" is my Master's immediate question.
"A bit."
"Get used to it. They can all see you're a slaveboy."
Wow! That's a thought! To know all these guys identify me as slave is mind blowing. They know what I am. A submissive sex object anyone can handle. A slave under orders. I sip my pint thoughtfully and look around trying to identify slaves. Can't see any except Gary. Mark and Doug sit at the table with Gary kneeling at Doug's feet. Without being told I follow his example and slide down to my knees at the side of my Master's boots. He ruffles my hair and carries on his conversation with Doug.
"Where shall we eat tonight. I'm bored stiff with the usual places."
"No problem, I've booked us in at a new place. Run by a young guy in Gloucester Road. He's an excellent chef and gay. It's financed by a rich fag-hag friend of his."
"Fantastic. A few pints and we'll go. First, can we get your boy to set mine an example of how slaves drink."
What now I thought. Doug taps Gary's head.
"Stand up boy."
Gary scrambles to his feet and stands with his feet apart, head bowed, his half-empty glass in one hand.
"Drink up boy, you know what to do."
Gary gulps down the rest of his beer, kneels down again, unzips Doug's leather jeans and hooks out Doug's large half hard penis. He aims into the pint glass. Slowly at first, then in a steady flow, Doug pisses into the glass. It's almost full when he dribbles to a stop. Gary looks me in the eyes, lifts the glass and starts to drink. I'm startled if not horrified to see someone drinking another person's urine. As Gary drains the last drop of his Master's piss, it dawns on me he is supposed to be setting me an example of how slaves drink. Gary grins and hands me the glass.
"Well boy?" My Master asks. Or is it an order?
I look up at him with pleading eyes. Does he really want me to do the same? Even in the privacy of his flat it would be difficult, but here with a whole crowd of guys turning to watch?
"You don't have a choice slaveboy. This is a test, a part of your training. Don't let me down. Now, get my cock out."
An order from my Master. Hesitantly I unzip his fly, grope for and pull out his half-hard fantastic monster. He's had it up my arse and in my mouth. I've swallowed his semen. What's so different about his piss? It's an honour surely for him to allow me to drink it. It's terribly degrading too, but isn't that what I want him to do to me? To humiliate me in front of all these guys? Kneeling on a pub floor showing my total obedience? Yes, yes it is! I place his knob inside the rim of the glass and he pisses a stream of golden liquid until the glass is almost full. I look up. My Master, Doug, Gary and a lot of leather guys are watching and waiting for me to show my obedience. I lift the glass and start to drink. It's warm, it's sour, and it's unusual. I try not to stop drinking and slowly down the whole pint. I look up for his approval. He ruffles my hair like he would a pet dog.
"Good boy. You deserve your reward."
He takes a leather collar from inside his jacket. I bow my head in submission and he fastens it around my neck. Murmurs of approval from the crowd. Gary leans towards me and kisses me on each cheek. Suddenly I have tears in my eyes. My Master hauls me up, cradles me on his lap and kisses me on the mouth. I suck his tongue greedily. He turns me over, rips down the tear in my jeans and playfully spanks the naked cheek of my bottom for all the guys standing around to see.
More beers and we leave. My half-naked arse comes in for a lot of attention as we push through the now jam packed leather crowd. I feel in danger of having my jeans ripped off me until Mark turns and hauls me with him. Doug hails a taxi and we all pile in. Mark and Doug take the seats, Gary and I kneel on the floor. Presumably, cab drivers are used to this sort of thing in this part of London. I finger my collar, proud to realise I'm now even more identified as my Master's slave.
We follow Mark and Doug into the restaurant. As far as I can see all the clients are men and probably gay, but no one else is wearing black leather. Most are in casual summer clothes except for four guys at one table in bow ties and dinner jackets. I'm now very embarrassed to be wearing my leather collar, mutilated shirt and with my half naked arse hanging out of my jeans. I can feel I'm blushing a hot beetroot red. Heads turn as I follow the others between the tables. These guys must also identify me as a slave and with the marks of the cane across my bottom. I'm relieved to find we two slaves are allowed to sit down at the table.
The waiters are all handsome young guys and very attentive to our needs. All except one calls me sir. The odd one out makes a point of calling me boy. It becomes clear why when I notice he's wearing a tight heavy linked chain around his neck. After the waiter has taken our orders we two slaves receive one.
"You two, unzip your flies and get your cock and balls out." Instructs Mark.
Thankful for the long tablecloth I unzip, spread my flies and let my cock and balls hang out. I can see Gary doing the same. Mark puts a hand under the tablecloth and checks I've done so. Then I feel Doug checking me out as well. I suppose it's to remind us of our status when waiters are calling us sir.
Between courses, Mark and Doug chat about the theatre and exhibitions. Gary and I just listen. At different times Mark and Doug go off to the toilet. After coffee, Gary asks Doug for permission to go too. He hastily zips up and rushes off. After all the beer and piss I'm also dying to go, but conscious of my torn jeans I don't ask Mark for permission. Gary returns, sits down, fiddles with his flies and settles down. My Master sees I'm wriggling, obviously in distress.
"Go and take a piss boy."
Now there's no alternative. I zip up and walk quickly to the loo at the far end of the restaurant. Customers and waiters turn to get an eyeful of my torn jeans, pink bottom and cane marks. Fortunately the toilet is empty and I rush to the urinal and empty my bladder. I hear the door open and look round to see the waiter with the neck chain. He comes up behind me, reaches round, unbuttons my jeans and jerks them down to my ankles.
"Stay put slave."
He feels me up, pumps my prick till I'm hard and swings me round to face him. Except it's not just him. The four guys in dinner jackets stand looking me over. The waiter dashes out as three of the four advance on me. The fourth, a big handsome black guy, stands with his back guarding the door. They walk around me, as I stand there more or less naked except for my slave collar. One, a red head, reaches out with his fingers and runs them over my hairless crotch.
"Look at this will you, he's been shaved."
A dark haired guy has his hands cupping my arse cheeks.
"Why's that kid? Are you one of those slave boys?"
"Yes sir." The sir is becoming instinctive.
The dark haired one pushes my shirt up, over my head and throws it in the nearest urinal.
"On your knees cocksucker."
I drop to me knees and as I do so, the guy who hasn't spoken, moves around behind me and pulls my shoes and jeans off and I'm completely naked but for my Master's slave collar. Immediately, the three produce erect pricks and prod them at my lips. I take one and then two into my mouth. The other masturbates in my face. Within seconds they're all panting, yelling and shooting their loads. My mouth's full of spunk and my face is covered. They back off, flicking the last drops on my chest as they do so. The big black guy leaves his sentry post at the door and comes to stand over me, a look of contempt on his face. He unzips, takes out his huge black cock and commences to wash down my cum covered face with his piss. Behind him I see the door open and for a second I see Gary's face. His face disappears and the door slams shut. The sound alarms the four guys and they quickly zip-up and get out.
Mark, Doug, Gary and several waiters rush in a moment later to see me dripping with spunk and piss. I struggle to my feet.
"They made me suck them off, ordered me to do it."
My Master offers me no sympathy. He grabs my arm with one hand and starts slapping my bare arse with the other. Doug, Gary and the waiters, especially the one with the neck chain, all laugh, enjoying the spectacle of a naughty boy being chastised. Master grabs my collar.
"This collar means you're my slave property you slut. You obey my orders not anyone else. Get into your clothes and be quick about it, we're leaving."
Mark and Doug slam the door as they leave. Gary helps me on with my jeans and shoes. Neck Chain rescues my piss soaked shirt from the urinal, wipes my face and body with it and delights in helping me pull the piss soaked thing over my head. The other waiters laugh at my bedraggled appearance, pat me on the back and watch me walk through the restaurant following Gary and our two Masters.
Doug decides that he and Gary will head off to a club. I hear My Master telling Doug he's taking me home for some much-needed discipline. I think about this threat as we walk back to his flat in silence.
Will Obe welcomes any comments.