The best reply to my ad was brief. "I'm experienced in _s_e_x_ual dominance and not scared to administer real correction which may cause you pain and leave marks. If you're genuine, ring at 6pm, on Thursday." No name. Just a phone number.
When I rang he said he would consider me, but that I would have to pass a number of tests before being taken to his house. He only saw sluts who were both instantly and absolutely obedient. They also had to be _s_e_x_ually submissive and prepared to accept moderate levels of physical abuse. Was I still interested in continuing? I said yes. Was I available to serve on Saturday? Yes.
From 11am till midday I was to sit facing the road on a bench on Brighton Road. I was to be wearing a singlet and the briefest, tightest shorts I had. My knees must always remain at least a foot apart. I wasn't to slouch forward, my crotch should be fully on display at all times. I was never to have my arms in front of my body. During this hour he would pass by, check me out and decide if he wanted to proceed. If he didn't fancy me, he wouldn't approach me - I could go home after midday and needn't bother contacting him again. My chances of being approached were best if I maintained the required pose and "looked very slutty". He said he preferred young guys who were "cheap and available looking" and reminded me again that "total unquestioning obedience is essential in all phases of the tests".
At 10.50 I sat down on the bench. It was in the middle of a group of shops. I'd picked up some very old blue nylon football shorts at a charity shop the day before. They were definitely brief and tight, especially when I sat down.
I looked out of place in the middle of suburbia. From the street, you could easily see my jock strap. I felt self-conscious when passing people glared at me. I'd never been ordered to do something like this before. Most role play games I get into involve me being the nephew, the slave or the student. I'd never been told to be a slut before, but that was what Sir wanted, so I'd do my best.
An hour is a very long time (especially when you can't cross your arms or legs, or slouch forward). I had no idea what he looked like so any middle-aged guy, walking or in a car, could have been him. At about 11.55, an older man, overweight, in crumpled office gear, stared openly at me as he passed by, stopped, turned back, then blatantly cruised me. Remembering the instructions about being 'cheap and available', I opened my legs wider, licked my lips and kept the eye contact. He indicated the park opposite, quickly crossed the road and headed towards the public toilet block.
I almost got up and followed him, but there was much about him that didn't fit what I was expecting. He seemed far too uncertain to be a master collecting his boy. More like someone who was scoring unexpected trade while shopping.
As midday approached I decided that it hadn't been a complete waste of time. The old man was in the toilet block so once it turned noon, I decided, I'd head over and go for it with him. Just as I was preparing to leave, another guy approached my bench and sat down right next to me. He was in his 30s, maybe older, in jeans and a singlet, with a great body: fit and not overly muscled, no facial hair, crew-cut.
He told me I had passed the first test. The second test would take place in the public toilet in the park opposite. It had gravel around it allowing plenty of time to hear anyone approaching.
I said that there was someone in there already.
"I saw him. He's a regular here. Should be no problem for a slut like you. You are to go in and enter the cubicle next to the one he's in. Leave your door unlocked and slightly open. I'll cough when I come in so you'll know it's me. I want to open your door and see you sucking him off. Eventually I want to see his cum dripping down your singlet. You don't undress, don't touch yourself and don't let him touch or suck you. Any questions?"
"No Sir."
"Then go."
There were four cubicles in the toilet. He was in one of the middle ones. I entered the other middle one. There was a decent sized hole in the wall between. I could see that the old dude was sitting on the toilet, pants around his knees, masturbating. He indicated for me to poke my _c_o_c_k_ through the hole. I indicated back for him to do the same. Nothing happened. I could hear steps on the gravel outside. I knelt down and began sucking the guy's fingers. He quickly got the hint and replaced his fingers with his _c_o_c_k_ which was already really hard.
I heard Sir's cough as he entered the building. I paused, whispered 'it's OK' through the hole then went on sucking. My door quietly opened and Sir stood, hands on hips, watching me. I did my best to make it a good performance for him. The guy came very quickly, unexpectedly, then withdrew. I turned, still on my knees on the filthy, wet floor and faced Sir. I had a mouth full of cum. Sir pointed to my chest so I opened my mouth wide and let the drool and cum run down my chin and drip onto my chest. Sir just nodded.
The older guy left, exchanging smiles with Sir on his way out.
"Listen carefully boy. There should be no need for words between us during the next part of the test." He opened his backpack and handed me a medium sized buttplug and tube of lube. "I will be in the next cubicle. I want to watch you fully insert this up your slutty arsehole. You will then poke your _c_o_c_k_ through the hole for me to play with. You will place both hands on the top of the wall so I can see your fingers. Remove them and I'll stop which means you've failed and you can go straight home. So if you can't take it, just remove your fingers and it's over. As I told you on the phone, you may find what I like doing painful but I expect your total obedience and submission, nothing less. Any questions?"
"No Sir."
He entered the next cubicle and I shut my door. I pulled my shorts off, then the jock strap, and bent right over so my arsehole was facing the hole. I put one foot up on the toilet bowl pulled my cheeks apart, then began fingering my hole. It wasn't easy to get the plug in. I had no amyl and was a bit tight. My _c_o_c_k_ was getting rigid. Eventually the plug was right up me. Being a slut wasn't as difficult as I expected it to be. It was a real turn-on knowing he was watching through the hole.
I turned around to face the wall and poked my _c_o_c_k_ through it. He grabbed my balls and pulled them through too. It was easy to hold on to the top of the wall, it helped me keep balance.
He pulled at my sac, stretching the skin, then there was a sudden sharp pain. He'd clipped a small alligator or bulldog clip to my ballsack. I flinched, moaned but did not pull back or move my hands. Then a second clip, a third and two more. My erection had shrunk to an acorn. Next he began tightly binding thin rope around the base of my _c_o_c_k_ and balls. This tightened the skin and really hurt where the clips were. Once that binding was done, my _c_o_c_k_ was erect once again, pulled right away from my body. If the clips hurt when they were put on, they hurt twice as much when he removed them. I cried out in pain each time.
Sir then left his cubicle and opened my door.
"Step back boy"
I did. My shorts and jockstrap were on the floor in the slime. I had a plug up my arse and my _c_o_c_k_ and balls were separated from my body by an inch or so of tightly bound rope. There were red marks on my balls from the clips. There was cum and spit on my t-shirt.
"Turn around slowly."
He admired his handiwork.
"Face the bowl. Kneel. Head over the bowl. Closer."
I felt the toe of his boot tapping at the base of the butt plug.
"If that plug comes out, you're in big trouble"
Then I felt a warm stream of fluid hit my head and run down my back and face.
"Don't move slut."
His hot piss trickled right down to the base of my spine.
"Get dressed, slut."
I obeyed instantly. The shorts and jockstrap were soiled and rancid. My genitals bulged out obscenely at the front. My singlet was sopping wet, cum stained at the front and stinking.
"The final test. I live not too far from here. It's a nice day for a stroll. Especially with what you have under your filthy shorts. Ready for a walk?"
"Yes Sir."
I knew it would be a long painful embarrassing 'stroll'.
It was a hot day and he walked quickly. It was hard to keep up, especially as I had the plug up my arse and was trying to make sure it stayed there. By the time we arrived at his house, maybe 15 minutes later, I was dripping in sweat and my _c_o_c_k_ and balls ached.
He lead me around to the back door and inside to a huge old laundry/bathroom with concrete floors, bare walls and a high ceiling.
"Strip naked."
He took my clothes and put them into the washing machine, added some powder and turned it on. He removed the thin rope from around my _c_o_c_k_ and balls. He bent me over the machine and kicked my legs wide apart.
"Don't move."
He removed the plug.
"You stink slut."
"Yes Sir."
"I'm going to punish you for arriving here smelling like a sewer."
"Thank you Sir."
"Your code word is 'failure'. Say it and it's all over. Otherwise I'll keep going."
"Yes Sir."
Whack. Whack. Whack.
It was a table tennis bat applied left then right to my buttocks. At first they were mild swats but the intensity quickly increased. The huge bathroom had great acoustics. Whack. Whack. Whack. "Filthy." Whack. "Stinking." Whack. "Slut." Whack. "You" Whack. "Need" Whack. "To" Whack. "Be" Whack. "Taught" Whack. "A Lesson" Whack. On and on. And both the swats and my involuntary noises resonated.
It really hurt. I couldn't help it, my _c_o_c_k_ was getting stiff. It always does when I'm being punished. I was almost in the zone, that strange space and time where pain stops being pain and it all becomes sensation. But he stopped.
"Red, but not yet raw. You still stink. Step over to the bath tub."
It was a big old-fashioned tub with claw feet, three quarters full of water.
"Get in."
Very, very cold water. I was still sweating from the walk and being beaten. My _c_o_c_k_ shrivelled up instantly. I was breathless for a few moments.
"Here's a cloth and soap. Start at your head and scrub yourself clean."
I scrubbed. He ignored me, moving a portable fan to the table near the bath and turning it on. He smoked a cigarette. Then he opened a tall cupboard. On the inside of the door was a collection of canes, stored like pool cues, ranging in size from tiny, thin one footers to what looked like a full Singapore Special. He selected one of the smaller ones and walked back towards me swishing it once in the air, as if testing it.
Big thick canes make a different sound, deeper, and they cause a dull kind of intense pain. Smaller, thinner canes are what I call whippy. They are more flexible and the pain they cause is more of a sharp stinging. They hurt just as much but in a different way. I know these things, I've had a history since early childhood of needing regular severe correction.
He swished it again and I could tell this was a real whippy cane. It would sting.
"Out of the bath."
"Bend right over ... hold the side of the bath ... legs wider ...Arse right up."
I was freezing cold, shivering as the breeze from the fan hit my skin.
"OK slut?"
"Just ccccccold, Sir."
"Time to warm you up."
Swish Crack. The first stroke landed across my bottom and it was a real biter. Swish Crack. The second, just above it was worse. Swish Crack. Swish Crack. Swish Crack. Swish Crack.
I concentrated on not moving, on keeping my bottom raised up for Sir, on controlling my breathing and on trying not to shiver. Being so cold intensified the sharpness of each stroke. Swish Crack. Swish Crack. Swish Crack.
This was real pain. With each stroke the tip of the cane bit my right thigh. There'd be a line of teeth marks there when he finished. It would be perfectly straight. Sir knew exactly what he was doing. Swish Crack. Swish Crack. Swish Crack.
I knew that if I said 'failure', it would end. Swish Crack. Swish Crack. My legs were trembling uncontrollably. I had goosebumps. Swish Crack. Swish Crack... I lost count.
He suddenly stopped. I felt cold lotion being rubbed on my cheeks, then over my _c_o_c_k_ and balls and finally a couple of fingers went up my arse. Too much of this and I'd cum.
"In a moment or two you'll be warm enough," Sir said and laughed.
Swish Crack. Swish Crack. He began caning me again, this time more gently. My _c_o_c_k_ was ram-rod stiff. My arse cheeks started tingling, then feeling hot, so did my _c_o_c_k_ and balls, then I felt a dull burning sensation right up inside me. There was menthol or something similar in the cream.
"It's my own recipe," he said, "Stings, doesn't it?"
I moaned. Swish Crack. Swish Crack. Swish Crack. Swish Crack. I was hot and horny.
"Thank you Sir, harder Sir," I pleaded.
My arse was now on fire and I desperately wanted something, anything, deep up inside me.
"Please _f_u_c_k_ me Sir," I begged.
The intensity of his strokes increased. My whole butt was throbbing. I was panting like a dog.
He stopped suddenly, a brief pause then he thrust his _c_o_c_k_ right up me, grabbed my hips and began furiously shafting me. I slipped one hand between my legs and began jerking off. He hit my hand away. Seconds later, he came.
We were both breathless for almost a minute then he pushed my head down towards the water as he withdrew.
"Don't move."
He threw the used condom on the floor and I waited, staring at the bath water as he did up his jeans.
"Stand up."
He was taking my clothes out of the washing machine and putting them in the drier. He was fully dressed. It was the best (and fastest) _f_u_c_k_ I'd had in ages and I still hadn't even seen his _c_o_c_k_.
Part Two to be posted soon. It's a true story. It happened last December in Adelaide. Comments welcome to ozwiz45@hotmail. com.