OBEYING NATURE
by Will Obe
Chapter 9
I'm certain my Master enjoys recalling, in his own mind, the degradations he subjects me to as much as I do. In my case they provide the fantasies to accompany solitary masturbation. In his case they fuel his powerful sexual excitement to make use of my body. Back in his workroom that evening, with me wearing only the shirt marked "slave", he spanks and slowly fucks me in turn at least twice. We sleep together on the rubber-covered bed. In the middle of the night I wake up to feel his cock ramming into me. He reaches around to my groin and wanks me off. Then we sleep with his cock embedded in me, his bumboy slave. I'm in heaven!
I find a note Master Mark has left for me to say he'll be out until late afternoon and a list of instructions to do numerous household chores. And to be ready when he returns. I'm to wear, unwashed, the jeans and shirt I'd worn the previous day. After completing the chores I sunbathe naked on the roof terrace. At four I wash, shave and clean myself out with the usual three enemas. By five I'm positioned in the lobby wearing the cum stained jeans, shirt and leather collar. I stand feet apart, head bowed. He opens the door, smiles to see me there, takes me into his arms and gives me the sort of long, passionate, deep throat kiss I crave for. A sign of his love and dominance.
"Stay put boy. We're off as soon as I've changed."
He returns a little later having changed from his casual clothes into his full leather gear. He doesn't need to tell me what sort of evening to expect.
"Another step in your training tonight boy. Don't let me down, okay?"
"No sir. I'll do whatever you say sir."
"You will boy, without question."
A taxi waits outside. I immediately assume we were going to some sort of drinks party. I sit on the floor of the cab, hugging my Master's black leather boots. The old cab driver notices, but seems neither worried nor surprised. Mark ruffles my hair occasionally, but doesn't say a word the whole journey. After over an hour driving through the West End and then the City, we're deep in the East End. The taxi stops and we step out into a deserted, quiet street with run-down boarded up houses on one side and a parade of metal shuttered shops on the other. The taxi goes off.
I follow Mark to one of the shuttered shop fronts. He rings a bell on a small door set into the shutter. A slot opens, a pair of eyes takes in Mark and the door opens.
The eyes belong to an overweight guy in full black leather.
"Glad you could make it Mark. This your new boy?"
"Yes, this is Ian. What do you think Jeff?"
"Not bad. Like the curls. Give us your gear boy."
Not sure what he means, I look at Mark.
"He means strip."
There's not much. I strip off the shirt, boots and jeans. Jeff stuffs them into a plastic bag and hangs it on a numbered hook on the wall behind him. A long line of hooks with plastic bags. Jeff runs his hand over my arse and for a moment grips my already hard prick.
"Nice body for a little'un. They'll like him."
We follow Jeff through a jumble of rubble and builders material and he unlocks a door. We're almost deafened by the raucous sound of hard rock music and loud male voices. Mark leads the way down a dimly lit staircase. Jeff slams the door behind us. We turn a corner into a vast shadowy cavern that must run the whole length of the parade of shops above. Red and blue lights high in the ceiling provide scant illumination to see anything easily although there are a few bright spotlights further down the long room. Mark takes hold of my collar and drags me through a crowd of leather clad men like himself and naked men like me. It's a an amazing sensation. I get touched up incessantly. We reach a bar running the whole length of the opposite wall. Naked barmen run backwards and forward serving drinks, mostly pints of beer. Mark grabs a chain hanging from the roof, grins at me and clips it to my collar. I then notice similar chains hanging the whole length of the bar and a number of naked men attached to them.
"Welcome slave Ian to "The Den". What do you think?"
"Well, it's er... it's fantastic."
He hands me a pint, clinks glasses and starts drinking.
"It is boy."
I'm becoming so excited by the atmosphere; I gulp down half my pint before I realise. Being naked like this seems so right. How a slave should be. Seeing all the other naked slaves of different ages makes it seem so natural. Most are like me standing with their masters. A few are on their knees. My Master is looking at me with that gentle smile on his face I have become used to before he orders me to do something.
"There is a house rule boy. Any naked slave is available to any Master. Do you understand that?"
"Yes, I think so sir." I pause, thinking. "But does it mean you don't..."
"It means boy you must adjust your thinking to being a real slave. To realise you are here to serve and obey a Master. Not just myself, but any other Master. Even a complete stranger. Is that sinking in?"
After all the fuss he'd made when those guys used me in the restaurant, I find what he's saying now a little confusing.
"Yes sir, except er... well, you were very angry when those guys in the restaurant were..."
"They weren't Masters boy, they we're poncey twits. In this place you'll only meet Masters. And they have a complete right to make use of you. Now do you understand?"
"Yes sir." It couldn't be clearer. I was a slave. He was one of many Masters. The thought of not belonging to him exclusively concerned me and would need getting used to. That's what he was telling me and tonight was the start of a new learning curve.
"One more thing, slaves are not allowed to speak unless spoken to. Okay boy?
"Yes sir."
"Right, I'll be around."
My Master walks away into the depths of "The Den" leaving me chained to the bar. I'm scared and excited at the same time. Not knowing what will happen. I quickly down the rest of my pint and place the glass on the bar top. I've no money to buy another one.
"This is on the house darling."
A handsome naked barman smiles as he hands me another pint of beer. I must look perplexed.
"Slaves aren't allowed to buy drinks dear. Drink as much as you like."
"Oh, I see. Thanks." Should I have spoken?
I try to relax and drink, thinking the more I have the more I'll be able to cope. Viewing the line of slaves chained to the bar on either side of me I see they are all shaved. I'm unusual in not having my hair cropped short or completely shaved. Looking closely I realise not all are young. Being shaved makes them appear younger. One skinny looking slave must be at least sixty. I step back so I can see their bottoms. Most are red and cane marked. Several of the slaves are being examined by Masters. They run their hands over them, squeeze their balls, pump their cocks and make them bend over to be anally inspected. I prepare my mind and position myself. Legs apart, head bowed and hands clasped at the back of my head.
A pair of highly polished, black leather boots stop in front of me. A hand reaches out and takes hold of my stiff prick. It moves down to my balls and then continues under me and I feel a finger probing my back passage. The finger moves from my hole and is presented to my mouth. I suck on it. It's used as a lever to raise up my face. Still sucking, I can't help but look into a Master's face. It's a baby face with dark, piercing eyes and thin lips. Not handsome, but very young. Younger than me, several inches shorter and thinner. No smile or glimmer of emotion.
"Kiss my boots."
I drop to me knees, lean forward and kiss each of his boots in turn. A handful of my hair is used to pull me to my feet.
"Follow me slave."
I meekly follow his trim little figure feeling resentment at having to obey the orders of this small young Master. But that is his right. My duty to obey. I have to admit it's also a huge turn-on for my submissive side. Other Masters fondle my body as I pass. I'm led into a section resembling a stall in a stable. Hanging in the centre on chains is a leather sling similar to the one my Master has in his workroom.
"Lie down in the sling." My young Master orders.
He raises my arms and secures my wrists with leather cuffs to the topsides of the sling. He does the same with my ankles to the front top sides of the sling. My legs are drawn wide open and held high. I feel completely vulnerable and humiliated at being put on show for the gathering crowd of Masters and slaves. My red arse and puckered hole are on display. My youthful Master runs his hands down my bare thighs, up over my belly, around each of my tits and introduces the big finger of his right hand into my mouth. I suck like a pup at a bitch's teat. He slides in a second and a third finger. I suck more noisily. His eyes are on mine all the time. Still there when he takes out the fingers and quickly inserts them one after another into my hole. He enjoys my look of pain and my gasping whimper. I can feel him applying a lubricant with his other hand. More pain and I close my eyes as he inserts his fourth finger and pumps his knuckles hard up against my sphincter.
"Go on Jim, give it to the bitch." A Master's voice of encouragement.
Master Jim's thumb is there and gradually, with me howling, he slides his hand into my rectum. I blink open my eyes and look into his. There's a glint of triumph as he fists me in and out. I'm his to be used. He's quite obviously sexually aroused at having me at his mercy. I suddenly realise that a small Master has a small fist. I hump back on his hand, excited by the fucking and the fact of me being on show to the crowd. I'm gasping and cooing as he works on my prostate. I'm twitching from side to side as he induces me to shoot a load of spunk over my belly and chest. He withdraws his hand slowly and uses it to rub the spunk over my body and face. Stepping back he looks at me with what I can only think is contempt, turns on his heel and leaves.
I lie, still on view, feeling rather exhausted. Master Jim certainly knew how to make me blow my spunk for all to see. What was in it for him except to demonstrate his power, I couldn't guess. Most of the onlookers drift away leaving one big guy, probably in his forty's, wearing leather jeans and a body harness supporting an outsize beer belly. The younger slave at his side is shaved and naked with a collar and leash. This Master looks down at me and licks his fleshy lips. He pushes his slave to his knees and aims his mouth into my arsehole. A practised rimmer now shows his skill in cleaning out my anus, tonguing my groin and licking my drooping prick back into life. Once I'm erect, the slave is hauled away. His Master unzips his jeans and flicks out a hard, wide, stump of a penis. He spits on it and lunges it into my arse. I buck up; it feels longer than it looked. He grins down at me.
"Like that boy? A real man's tool."
"Yes, sir."
His fat belly bounces against my balls as he continues to ram me. I think his slave is between my legs tonguing us both. The sling moves backwards and forwards in time with his thrusts. He's a Master and despite his unattractive looks and fat belly, I am his to fuck. His thrusts quicken and his piggish grunts increase in volume. He opens his mouth and spits forcefully into my face. He slams into me hard, several times, roaring his supremacy as he fills me with his semen. His heavy body drops down onto mine. I'm crushed under his heaving body. At last he lifts himself up, twists his mouth into a smile and presses his lips against mine. I can't stand it and close my teeth against his tongue. This upsets him. He stands up. His drooping cock still drips spunk.
"You need a lesson boy."
He and his slave un-cuff my wrists and ankles and force-march me deeper into "The Den". In the centre of another section a bright spotlight is trained on a white enamel bath half-full of steaming liquid. Two slaves scramble out of it as they see me brought in. My Master and his slave heave me into it and the liquid splashes up into my face and over the floor. It's in my mouth. It's piss! I'm sitting in a bath half-full of steaming piss. I struggle.
"Stay where you are slave. Obey you slut." Orders my Master in leather harness.
By now a crowd surrounds the bath. Naked slaves holding their cocks and Masters taking out and aiming theirs. I calm down and obey. I sit still. Streams of piss come down on my head, drench my long hair and cover my body. I give in to an overpowering feeling of submission, raise up my head, open my mouth and swallow
warm piss. It overflows and I try to catch it with my hands. Cocks run dry and the last few drops shaken over me. Others replace them. Faces grin as their owners urinate over me. Master Jim doesn't smile. My Master Mark does. He helps me out of the bath. Out into the street. He hands me the plastic bag and I dress before getting into his car.
Will Obe will be pleased to receive comments from those readers who have found the story of interest or, more importantly, sexy
Will Obe (c) Copyright