By Bikermike

I received a message on Recon from my buddy Malcolm from Bourne, Lincolnshire. He described the fun he had had with a young guy a week or so before. The guy’s Recon profile name was “Black Knight” or something similar, he was thirty three years old and had a slim, gym fit body. Apparently, he couldn’t get enough of playing the “sub” or “slave” role, and could take all sorts of punishment. I immediately felt envious and more or less told Malcolm so by return message.

A day or so later he messaged saying that the lad had wanted as much BDSM experience as possible and that he was almost insatiable; the rougher and harsher play the better. Malcolm went on to say that he had suggested to the guy that he contact me, maybe to arrange a meeting. His actual name was James, he lived in Norfolk, and rode a Honda Fireblade. That would be handy for him: I live not far from Kings Lynn, at the opposite side of the Fens from Malcolm at Bourne, so not so far for him to travel.

Just before the weekend I received a Recon message from James, aka. “Black Knight Blade”. It’s easier to relate the exchange of messages verbatim:

James: Please Sir, I would beg you to permit me to visit any time at your convenience so that you can use my worthless body any way that would give you satisfaction. I have very few limits and would look forward to serving both you and your slaveboy. (He attached a photo of himself, naked but wearing a steel slave collar and wrist manacles. He was tanned, with an extremely well defined torso, sporting a short beard)

Me: Report to me this Saturday at 1400 sharp. I have a very well equipped torture chamber so be very well aware what you will be letting yourself in for. You will also serve my slave, who may decide to punish you, as the whim may take him. (I attached photos of the outhouse, kitted out with shackles, vaulting horses, electro gear, paddles, etc.)

James: Very well Sir, I will arrive as you have instructed. I am looking forward to being of service to you and your slave, as and how you both see fit.

I couldn’t wait.

I do have a live-in slaveboy. He is black, some ten years younger than me and well muscled, working as a coach in a local gym. I met him a few years ago via a small ad that I placed in the local newspaper, offering board and lodgings. He applied and during the course of my interview, ascertained that we shared more or less the same interest in men, combined with the same fetishes. However, the only difference between us was that he would always want to take the submissive role whereas I am one hundred percent active. After I had satisfied myself that he was worthy of becoming my lodger, I took him to my brick outhouse. Without preamble he had stripped and begged me to chain him up and fuck him. Of course, I obliged.

My slaveboy has become quite used to either “subbing” for me and a guest, a frequent guest is of course Malcolm from Bourne; or we both “top” another guy, which I anticipate will happen when James arrives astride his motorbike. Slaveboy was also looking forward to the weekend, especially after I showed him James’ photograph.

I sent him another message:

Me: Note that while you are at mine you will be treated as my sex slave, my plaything. Expect to be brutally raped, beaten and tortured using some or all of the devices and implements as per the photo I attached to my last message. I will not accept any stopwords; you will have to tolerate any treatment that you will receive at my, or at my slaveboy’s hands. Those are my terms and conditions. Let me know by return message if these are acceptable to you.

Later that day I received his reply, which stated that he would gladly abide by my terms and that he would very much look forward to visiting me this coming Saturday at the time I specified.

On that Saturday afternoon I had dressed in faded Levi jeans, leather boots and remained shirtless. I was proud of my body: muscled, somewhat hirsute, shaved head, beard; not bad for someone who is ten or so years older than my soon-to-be new slaveboy, James.

I heard the sound of a powerful motorbike’s exhaust. I glanced at the clock: Two minutes to Two PM. I liked that – absolute punctuality. By the time he killed the engine, dismounted, removed his helmet and knocked on the door the clock registered two PM exactly. I waited for some five minutes or so, leaving my new plaything standing in the blistering sun in his black motorcycle leathers.

He was just about to leave when I opened the door and said ‘Where the fuck do you think you are going boy? Walk round to the back of the house and into the brick outbuilding, strip naked, and I mean every fucking thing, close the door, stand to attention and wait for me!’

‘I’m sorry Sir,’ he began, ‘I thought there was nobody at home!’

I replied ‘So you think that I am not a man of my word, eh? That isn’t showing me a sufficient degree of respect, boy. Of course, I will take such insubordination into account when I decide what to do with you!’

Looking a little worried, James made his way to the building while I made myself a coffee. I thought I would make the slaveboy wait a bit longer.

Feeling refreshed, I left the house and walked slowly over to the outhouse, where I had imprisoned by black Slaveboy, leaving him sitting on the rough concrete floor, naked, and shackled by six inches of ankle chain to a steel hook cemented into the floor. He had been ordered not to speak to the new slave.

The sight of my resident Slaveboy naked and chained always excites me. There he was, helpless, not knowing at any time what I would do to him, sporting a massive, rock hard erection. James meanwhile was standing to attention, looking directly ahead, also with a hard-on, standing ramrod straight.

I walked up to James, wrapped my right fist around his manhood and wanked him gently. I noted his breathing change as I milked a few drops of nectar from his penis. I wiped the drops off with my finger and offered it up to his mouth. Without a word he licked it clean. I milked him a bit more, this time making my black slaveboy taste James’ exudate. I then bent down and roughly masturbated his ebony black erection, sufficient to generate a few drops of precum. Wiping it off the head I offered my fingers up to James’ mouth.

‘There slaveboys, you have tasted each other!’ I mocked. turning to James I ordered him to place his wrists behind his back and to remain in that position while I fetched a pair of handcuffs. Duly applied, I appraised his body: the photo on Recon hardly did this boy justice. He looked more muscled, more tanned, with a treasure trail extending from the lovely cleft that divided his pectorals and his six pack abdominals, down and over his navel terminating in a bush of dark pubic hair, in contract to the pale skin that had been protected from the sun by a most ridiculously brief pair of swimming trunks. I ran my fingers up and down his circumcised cock once again, polishing his glans lubricated by copious amounts of his precum, continuing to ooze from the tip.

‘Stick your chest out boy!’ I barked. His nipples stood proud. ‘I will see what you can take before you cry out!’

I worked his swollen tits, one in each hand. I pinched and twisted harder and harder then let go, leaving a few seconds then repeating the procedure. He gritted his teeth in agony. I continued with this torture for several more minutes with gutteral noises escaping from his mouth. Meanwhile, my chained slaveboy had taken himself in hand, abusing himself vigorously. I left James’ tits alone, walked over to the Slaveboy and gave him a kick in his ribs. He gasped, rolling over on the floor, constricted as he was by the short chain attached to his ankle.

‘Did I give you permission to wank?’ I shouted, ‘Prepare yourself for a whipping!’

My Slaveboy loves the feel of the lash across his broad back. I love lashing him obviously; seeing welts appearing across his lovely black flesh, wet and shining with perspiration. ‘Harder, Master!’ He often begs.

Slaveboy stretched out his legs, leaned forward and held his ankles, leaving his back fully exposed. He knew that I would often leave him in that position for several minutes, occasionally a half hour, while he contemplated his enjoyable punishment.

I returned to James’ nipples, now red and sore. I grabbed them once again, pulling, tweaking and twisting them harder than before while he gasped and grunted in pain. ‘That’s just a warm-up, boy!’ I said as I left him and fetched a short leather braided whip from the hooks on the wall. I cracked it a few times in the air then smote Slaveboy’s broad back, making him yell. ‘You’ll get twenty, slave!’ I said, ‘That’ll teach you to wank yourself without my permission! You count! Mis-count and I’ll repeat the punishment with the knotted whip this time. Got it?’

‘Yes Master. Please whip your worthless slave’s back. I need to learn!’ Music to my ears!

I delivered all twenty strokes with my victim grunting out the numbers through gritted teeth. As often before, his back now glistening with sweat, showed signs of the whip having broken his flesh here and there, with a few rivulets of blood running down to the base of his spine. He remained in his prone position, not daring to move until I gave him permission. I noted that he had lost his hard-on and he had deposited a pool of semen between his outstretched legs. I knew full well that once the BDSM session really got under way with my new boy, Slaveboy would become fully rampant again.

Turning to James I said ‘Stand under that pulley boy,’ pointing to a steel hook hanging from a stout wire attached to an electric winch fastened to the building’s roof rafters.

‘Yes Sir!’

‘I am going to fit you with a steel ball stretcher attached to a chain, then I will fasten the latter to a dog collar that you will wear around your neck. You will also have your ankles spread so your legs will be at right angles to each other.’

‘Yes Sir!’

James grunted as I tugged his ballsac and fitted the wide stretcher around the neck of his scrotum. I then fixed a studded leather dog collar round his neck, pulled the chain attached to the ball stretcher and attached the end to the dog collar, taking care to run the chain between his torso and his cuffed wrists. Thus, James’ body was bent backwards with his testicles pulled upwards between his buttocks, causing his rock hard erection to point downwards. I attached a rigid spreader bar to his ankles leaving him standing there resembling an inverted “Y”.

I lowered the hanging hook, looping it under his handcuff chain and switched on the electric winch. Inch by inch James’ wrists were pulled up his back, making him lean forward, which of course pulled his already stretched ballsac further. He grunted and gasped until his back was horizontal leaving his swollen testicles protruding out from his arsecheeks and his face about cock height.

‘My friend from Bourne tells me that you enjoy the cattle prod on your bollocks, boy. Well, you can enjoy the experience again but I wouldn’t advise thrashing around too much, considering how your balls have been secured,’ I laughed, ‘Unless you want to castrate yourself, boy!’

‘Unhh! Y-yes, Master’ Grunted James in response.

I continued ‘My Slaveboy here will apply the cattle prod at random intervals, while you suck me off. He will only stop once I have shot my load down your throat. If I feel any teeth, you will get a severe whipping. Understood?’

‘Yes, Sir, I do!’

I released my Slaveboy from his ankle shackle and selected the cattle prod with stort terminals. The one with the longer terminals wouldn’t have been accurate enough, especially as my victim would very likely writhe and squirm throughout the ordeal. I removed my boots and jeans and stood before James with my penis exuding precum. ‘Lick the head, slaveboy!’ I said. James extended his tongue, cleaning off the bead of nectar. Holding his head, I forced myself inside his mouth. With a nod to my black Slaveboy applied the terminals of the prod to James’ exposed testicles. He let out a stifled scream, attenuated by the presence of my erection in his mouth. Holding his head steady I fucked his face slowly, forcing my cock right to the back of his throat. I nodded again to Slaveboy. James bucked as the shock smote his balls, feeling (I have been told) as though those tender orbs had been kicked.

Faster and faster I thrust into James’ mouth nearing climax. ‘Fry his fucking balls!’ I shouted to Slaveboy, whose erection had been fully restored by this time. Again and again he touched the terminals against the restricted and painfully stretched balls while I thrust faster, harder and deeper…. I came with a roar while holding my prisoner’s head until my cock stopped throbbing. I withdrew, panting.

‘I felt teeth, boy, (I lied), so I will give you a flogging. You will receive ten cuts of the whip across the inside of each thigh. Since I am right handed, I will whip your left thigh but Slaveboy here is left handed so he will do the same to your right thigh.’

Slaveboy practically drooled at the prospect of inflicting pain on our new “sub”. He fetched a whip, one shorter than the whip that had recently been used on his back.

James screamed as Slaveboy delivered the first lash across the inside of his right thigh. He carefully aimed the next nine strokes above and below the first, leaving James’ right thigh evenly striped while his victim howled in agony, and still sporting an erection.

I was my turn. By the fifth stroke, James was quiet; fainted probably. I stopped, but James suddenly said ‘Why have you stopped Sir?’. I was surprised: Jeez! This was really a tough cookie!

I delivered the remaining five cuts harder this time, with James resuming his screaming. ‘Th-thank you Master!’ He stammered.

‘It’s Slaveboy’s turn to fuck your mouth, boy. This time I will be kind. you will get the prod but I will also wank you. If I don’t, your cock looks like it’ll burst. Are we ready?’

‘Yes Master!’ Both replied in unison.

Without any preamble, Slaveboy thrust his huge black erect penis, now very moist with precum into James’ willing mouth. I readied myself with the cattle prod, the level set to the highest. With my left hand firmly holding James’ cock I delivered a jolt of electricity to his balls. he let out a gasp, unable to scream as Slaveboy fucked his mouth violently. In and out, in and out Slaveboy fucked our prisoner’s mouth while I wanked him brutally, punctuating his ordeal with jolts from the prodder.

I was really enjoying myself. The sight of my muscled black Slaveboy fucking his victim, with his chest thrust out accentuating his magnificent gluteal, pectoral and intercostal muscles, plus James’ lovely defined back was too much. I let go of his cock, walked over to a small cupboard and selected a condom and some lubricant. I rolled the condom over my hard cock. I then unlocked James’ ball stretcher allowing his testicles to hang free exposing his anus and worked my lubricated fingers in and out. With a bit of shoving I was inside him. With my right hand holding his shoulder steady I wanked him once again with my left. I could sense that Slaveboy was approaching orgasm so I thrust harder and faster but was careful to slow down the abuse I was giving to James’ penis as I wanted all three of us to shoot together.

Slaveboy was perspiring more than ever. In and out he thrusted his cock while I almost matched his timing, fucking our new boy’s arse. I could feel myself nearing climax so I redoubled my efforts with his cock in my hand. Faster and harder, faster, faster….Slaveboy yelled as he shot his sperm into James’ mouth, just as I grunted as I filled my condom while James convulsed as he splashed his seed over the floor and down one of Slaveboy’s legs.

Aaaah! Fuck!

I grinned as we withdrew our deflating cocks from James’ body. I lowered the winch and James collapsed to the floor, assisted by Slaveboy, who removed the spreader bar.

‘Well, did you enjoy that James?’ I asked, not unkindly.

‘Fuck yes, I did Sir! Phew!’ he replied.

‘Tell you what, next time I’ll invite Malcolm over from Bourne so the four of us can have some more fun. What do you say?’

‘Oh, yeah, Sir! Can’t wait!’

Slaveboy and I dressed while James pulled on his black bike leathers, being careful with his leather jeans over his inner thighs, gritting his teeth as he stretched the leather over his red and swollen flesh. He laughed and said ‘When I get home I will rub “Deep Heat” into my sore thighs and have a wank at the same time!’

As he started his bike and rode away I thought that next time we see him we can have some real BDSM fun; today being just a warm-up!

To be continued …

Metal would like to thank Bikermike for this story!