When Master Calls (9)
In Part 8 I imagined how my next meeting with Master might turn out. Happily I am now able to present what actually happened when lockdown was eased and Master really called. I have very much enjoyed readers' responses to these accounts of my life and look forward to reading more. Please remember to contribute to nifty!
The day has come at last, no longer do i need to dream or imagine how it will be when Master next calls. He has been at work on an early morning shift and is now in need of my service. It is the first time since Covid stopped all contact and i tremble at the thought of what may come. Instructions are just to be ready, with the riding crop to hand, and Master will arrive when He sees fit.
i'm wondering what will be the best way to show my obeisance after so long; Master will be frustrated after such an absence and will no doubt want to take this out on me, using my compliance and submission to satisfy His need, i am so honoured that i can please Him in this way, that i can be of use to so masculine a being, a man whose demands reflect His superiority in every way. After cleaning out my hole i pull on some light blue briefs, no other clothes, and kneel on the hallway floor; i then bend my head forward to touch the carpet and balance the riding crop on my back. i wait.
i wait for fifteen minutes or more and begin to feel uncomfortable, the effort of keeping the crop in place is a strain, my knees are sore against the rug and i need to remind myself how lucky i am to be able to present myself for Master in this way. Eventually i hear a car, the front door opens then closes but i dare not look up. In front of my face i now detect His trainers and instinctively i raise my head slightly in order to push forward and kiss each one. Never before have i done this and begin to wonder whether it is presumptuous, maybe Sir will find me precipitate in my actions? My doubts don't last for long, Master slips off His shoes and His bare feet are now before me; without thought, as though it is the most natural of acts i lean forward to kiss them again, savouring the sweaty musk which has gathered in His morning work.
"Good boy."
These are His only words but they are the only words i need, clearly He is pleased and i am happy. He lifts the crop and brings it down quickly and sharply six times across my buttocks, this is the first time i have experienced such pain for over a year and though i had hoped He might re-introduce such punishment gradually i am thrilled at the contact, the explosion of pain is sudden and severe but so satisfying, knowing that Master's needs are being fulfilled. Nevertheless i cry out, the syllables changing as they are uttered: i start to shriek but manage at the same time to convert my cries into thanks, absolute gratitude to this man for His infliction of pain, the pain with which i can satisfy His need.
Soon we are upstairs and Master continues the assault on my arse, He is merciless, all those months of being unable to work on me has made Him all the more intent on getting satisfaction. i haven't even realised that i am still wearing my briefs until he orders me to take them off, telling me that he has allowed them to stay on out of special consideration for my pain, oh thank you Master! Each blow is a reminder of how long He has had to wait for His pleasure, i can sense how much He is gaining from this onslaught, easing out His frustration with each swish of the crop. There's a short pause and Master tells me to lie across the bed while he walks around to face me at the side. Two of His fingers are thrust into my mouth, they probe and pull around inside roughly, stretching my cheeks and pushing down on my tongue; and i eagerly try to lick and suck, not able to get enough of my master's body, imagining at the same time how wonderful it would be to be sucking on His cock. With His other hand he grabs my briefs, already damp with my pre-cum, and shoves them in my mouth as a gag. i look up to him, on all fours on the bed, like an obedient dog waiting for a command, and there, directly in my face, is His massive cock, uncut, glistening a little where the foreskin puckers allowing a glimpse of the smooth head behind.
i lurch forward, drawn by this vision of manhood and Master places His hand on my forehead, calming and restraining my excitement.
"I'm giving you six more strikes on each arse cheek. They will hurt a lot and I don't want to hear you scream, that's why I've gagged you. To help you prepare and focus you can spend a few minutes worshipping my cock and balls first."
i look on helplessly, unable to speak or use my mouth in any way. My head nudges forward a little, dribble falls from the corner of my mouth escaping the cotton of my underpants, but i am at least able to sniff and nuzzle His cock and bollocks, inhaling that musky scent, that smell of masculine power which drives me crazy. And in my eyes i am sure that Master can see my awe and my longing .... .
My arse is now in the air like an animal's rump ready for whatever Master wishes; i am shaking slightly in anticipation and Master reaches one hand -- He is now behind me -- between my legs to hold on to my balls to steady me. The touch is thrilling, a caring contrast to what will soon come. He pulls down and His thumb rubs each ball at its top, gently teasing it downwards, each so small and insignificant compared with Master's own bull-bollocks. There is a pause as He lets go and moves back. i hear him pick up the crop from the floor. How to describe the pain? Impossible. All i know is that it radiates from each point of contact, as though my whole body is wanting to share it, diffusing it in order to make it more bearable. The intensity of the blow finds its effect a micro second or so after the crop is drawn back as though time is suspended for that briefest of moments. As i try to scream all that comes out is a muffled groan. i am obviously unable to count out loud as He usually requires but my instinct to thank Him remains and i try so hard to make my gratitude heard,
"Mmhffanku mashtr.... Ghrfthnnkyu!"
i try to repeat and make more audible my gratitude but realise it is useless: a pathetic, idiotic attempt. Meanwhile the sharp stinging pain intensifies and becomes the full focus of my being, i say the full focus but of course it is through this that i can concentrate, can channel all my thought and feeling into Him, the sole purpose of my being at this exquisite moment of pain: this moment of surrender and of being subsumed entirely into His will. i am becoming part of His action. For it is one whole, complete exercise of His will, the desire to inflict pain with such severity, the single minded action of His arm and the receiving of the blow in which We/we are both united. Thank You Master.
It is soon over and Master returns to face me, gently pulling the briefs form my mouth and running a finger beneath my eyes to remove my tears. i am panting and gasping, He pulls me up to Him so i am kneeling, and He takes me in His arms for a deep kiss. In front of the full length mirror, where He then takes me i see the evidence of my gift to master, and His to me. Bright red welts crossing my arse, still stinging, sharp angry looking. i fall to my knees again and kiss His feet in gratitude. He has worked so hard to remind me of my place in His world and i am so grateful that i have been able to suffer in offering Him my pain and submission.