By Raybound

The flight back from Saratoga was very relaxed. I was still locked into the steel cock restraint but travelled light, tee shirt and shorts. Jed, as usual, had the full black leather get up. On the journey we got to discussing his boots. The company that made them, Jean Gaborit, was French. He told me how they had taken three months to arrive, having been hand made to measure.

To my mind it was well worth the wait. They were the perfect boot, heavy grade black leather with lacing around fourteen pairs of steel hooks. They really underlined his authority, something that I found incredibly erotic. Jed was tall with a fine, muscled body and the combination of skin-tight leather jeans worn beneath the boots that reached right onto the knee where the laces were tied with neat bows and a wide saddle leather belt with a triple buckle arrangement at the waist looked absolutely fantastic.

[[WARNING: This story contains extreme elements that some readers might find objectionable. Continue reading at your own risk.]]

I don’t think that I had ever known a guy who projected this easy dominance in the way that he did, it just seemed to come naturally and piqued my feelings of intense submission. Whenever we were together I found myself wanting to just prostrate myself at his booted feet and worship the guy. He had salt and pepper hair, cut short in a military looking style that suited him perfectly. Whenever we were together and I caught his green eyes, before averting my gaze downwards in the way that he had taught me was suitably respectful towards my master, I could see the lust in them. It was a lust that I had cultivated and grown by providing oral sex that he told me was mind blowing. I felt the pride swelling within me.

I had read stories of Chinese courtesans in early twentieth century Shanghai who had perfected a technique of using their throat muscles to stimulate the erect penis in a manner that provided incredible orgasms. Naturally there was no way of learning this, except by trial and error. I had gradually discovered what I took to be this method. Certainly, the fact that Jed’s screams whenever he launched a full load of his hot, thick juice into my throat was an indication that, even if I had not yet got it exactly right, I was approaching the perfection that I sought in my quest to please a great master.

Naturally prior to this happening Jed had spent some time getting me into some very challenging positions. Usually, I would be on my knees with my ankles locked into heavy grade steel fetters which in turn were connected to a steel spreader bar, itself anchored to an iron ring set into the dungeon floor by means of a short length of heavy steel chain. With my wrists secured locked into very substantial steel manacles that were attached to the overhead hoist my body was at full stretch, my arms pulled tightly up directly above my head.

Jed loved the fact that I kept my tanned naked body lightly oiled all over for these sessions, gleaming in the low illumination of the soft downlighters that were arranged around the dungeon walls in metal sconces. Once Jed had placed me in this position he would disappear. I would hear the distinctive sound of his Gaborit boots on the flight of stone steps as he made his way back up into the house. Then the pain would start to build. Slowly every muscle would grow into a crescendo of pain. I knew that Jed would be upstairs, sipping a coffee in the big sitting room, maybe surfing some kinky site as he allowed my suffering to increase inexorably with the passing minutes.

I would lose track of time. Trying to think of anything else apart from the agony that his inventive bondage was creating in my body. At times I would enter an almost trance like state as my brain, now awash with endorphins, took me to another place. At times like these I wondered exactly what I had done by offering cart blanche in such a situation. At that very moment I would have instantly fled the dungeon back to my humdrum existence of my boring day job. But then I would hear it. The sound of the timber bolt being drawn back followed by my master’s boots as he descended the steps. Fear in me grew now, mingled with a strange excitement. My cock started to grow but was constrained by the steel bands of the chastity device that I had agreed to wear whilst in Jed’s ownership.

Now he stood before me, magnificent in gleaming skin-tight black leather, the light reflected in a hundred mobile pools on the surface of his jeans, boots and shirt, his waist pulled in by the buckles of that wide saddle leather belt. As he turned towards the wall rack and pondered the selection of whips, deciding which one he wished to use on me, the light fell upon the curves of his buttocks, hardened and almost steel like by his hard sessions in the gym.

Now he was before me, long legs set well apart in that stance that I so loved. My desire for freedom had totally evaporated now. I wanted nothing more than to serve this guy in whatever way pleased him most. My personal comfort took a back seat as he drew the black singletail slowly through his leather gloved hands. I knew that he was savoring my vulnerability, teasing me with his power as he prepared to give out the punishment that was the reason why I was here.

The whip was drawn back and, almost casually with a mere flick of the wrist, the braided tail was hurtling towards me, cutting the air with a low whistle that preceded the impact with my body. My scream filled the dungeon as the leather lash found its target, the braided tail impacting diagonally from my right nipple down across my stomach. My body rocked in its bonds, rattling the chains that held me firmly in his line of fire. Again the whistle and the impact of leather on flesh. My eyes fell on his leather crotch as this cruel foreplay developed. I could see that the leather of his jeans was distended, Jed’s cock straining against the material as a massive erection gave evidence of the excitement that he felt as he whipped me soundly.

His gloved hand was on the zipper of his jeans now, sliding it down. I could hear the sound of its progress as it gradually lowered. His shaft sprung free, his cock now massively engorged with his blood. The veins stood out like purple cables around his magnificent cock. He drew back the foreskin to reveal a perfectly domed head, now streaked with glistening pre cum that oozed from his slit. He moved towards me, my head now reeling with the combined aromas of leather and his masculinity.

I leant forward to the extent to which I was able. Just enough for my lips to close around the head of his cock, my tongue swept the delicious beads of pre cum which I swallowed greedily. My lips ran over the prominent ridge just below the head bringing distinct sighs of satisfaction from my master. He thrust his hips powerfully and his cock entered me completely. The whole shaft forced its way into the tight cavity of my throat. Now I worked my throat muscles in the way thar I had learnt. Immediately I was rewarded by the sound of my master desperately trying to hold back his orgasm. The cries grew to a crescendo. Suddenly I felt the first shot of hot jiss hit the back of my throat, Jed held himself close to me, forcing my head onto his shaft so that he was balls deep inside me. His cries continued, although now slightly reduced. He withdrew slightly as his cock continued to pump out the last of his creamy seed, salty on my tongue

“Now clean your master.”

I worked my tongue, alternating with sucking, to gain the last of his creamy nectar from his head, taking special care to ensure to glean the final few drops from his slit. Jed withdrew and I heard the words I had worked so hard for. “Well done boy, that was great.”

Jed released the hoist allowing my body to drop forward, my face against the cold stone of the dungeon floor. I lay there panting as I recovered my breath that had been cut off when his cock had been deep inside me. He released all of my bonds that held me in the stress position, although I still wore the manacles and fetters. Clipping a leather leash to the steel collar that I wore I was led up the steps into the house. Jed ordered me to my knees, pointing to a spot in the middle of the floor. I obeyed at once, placing my hands, fingers linked, on top of my head, a position that I had been taught that signified my total submission to my master.

“I suppose you would like the reward that I promised you?”

I cast my eyes downwards, taking in his polished black boots. “Yes, master, I would appreciate that very much.”

He stood and took a metal key from the pocket of his jeans. He slotted it into the chastity lock and removed the device. My cock immediately sprung free, standing out horizontally from my body.

“Stand up slave.”

I got to my feet, placing my hands back on my head. Jed stepped towards me. He worked his fingers into a pair of black leather gloves. He took a firm grip on my shaft and began to stroke me slowly and firmly from the base of my shaft up to the head. After so long locked inside the restraint it was never going to be long before I came, and I came spectacularly. I tried to hold back but the combination of so long without an orgasm and the fact that the sight and smell of my leather clad master was such a turn on ensured that my efforts in this respect were doomed to failure within a very short space of time.

Jed began to speed up the stroking combined with increasing his grip on my shaft. I gasped with pleasure as I felt myself now on the very brink of shooting my load. Now it was my turn to scream with pleasure as the first shot of my own thick, creamy sperm seemed to spin lazily through the air. It splattered against the shaft of Jed’s left boot. The second shot fell short and fell on the floor between my master’s legs. I knew the protocol. Immediately I moved to lick the freshly spilled jissum from Jed’s boot. The salty cum was still warm, salty on my tongue. I swallowed it just as I knew would be expected of me. I then knelt forward and licked the floor clean, again that was my place. We both knew it. I had no desire other than to please my master.

I made coffee for us both and we sat talking for a while, me cross legged on the floor, Jed in his chair, occasionally giving me a playful nudge with his boot. It was then that he raised the subject of money. Jed had agreed to pay six hundred dollars a month into my account. I had very little expense living as I did and was quite satisfied with this amount.

“How would you like to earn some real money boy?”

He went on to explain. There was a demand from certain guys to give out punishment to what they considered attractive boys like myself. Many of them were prepared to pay handsomely for the privilege.

“The real demand is for judicial canings. I have heard stories of several hundred dollars per stroke from rich old guys who can’t get their rocks off in any other way. Would that interest you?

The prospect of earning thousands of dollars for a single session certainly appealed. Jed said that there was no danger as he would be in attendance.

“I wouldn’t recommend anyone to do this alone. You don’t know just how far some of these guys might go. You don’t want to wind up in a shallow grave somewhere out there.”  He jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the desert.

“But before you agree to it bear in mind that it hurts a lot more than what you have already experienced. I’m guessing that to a sadist that is the draw.”

I told Jed that I was definitely interested, and he said that he would put out some feelers within the bdsm community to gauge what the demand was.

So it was a fortnight later that a black Mercedes limousine drew up outside Jed’s drive. Toby van der Merwe was a physically impressive man. Six feet four and two hundred and fifty pounds. I guessed that he was in his early sixties. He was quite open about his background. A South African businessman married to a younger woman, this being a cover for the fact that his real interest was in men. And not just in men, he admitted that the driving force behind his sexuality was extreme corporal punishment. His chosen implement was the fearsome whip known in his country as the sjambok.

The sjambok had a long and dark history in South Africa. Originally made from a single length of Rhino hide it had a reputation that went before it. Toby van der Merwe explained that he had a collection of genuine sjamboks, many over a century old. He admitted that he very rarely had the opportunity to use one, those willing to endure a sjambok beating were few and far between. Toby’s offer was ten thousand dollars to deliver twenty-five strokes with oral relief at the completion of the session. I looked at this massive man. I had absolutely no doubt that his delivery of those strokes would be devastating. Although he was in his sixties I could see that he was heavily muscled. Nevertheless, ten grand was an awful lot of money. And how bad could it be? I was soon to find out.

Two guys arrived Tuesday morning in a pickup. In the back what appeared to be a massive artists easel. They carried the timber pieces down into the dungeon where they were bolted together to form a frame like a very large A. The two legs were equipped with multiple leather straps. The top of the frame had a pulley system. At one thirty, half an hour before Toby van der Meree was due to arrive, Jed explained what was going to happen. I was to be handed over to Toby who had been allocated an hour. The twenty-five strokes would be delivered at his leisure after he had secured me to the punishment frame. After the judicial sentence had been carried out I would give Toby oral to completion. Jed had also negotiated the rights to film the beating, which he calculated would generate at least as much revenue as the fee that Toby was paying.

I was naked, on my knees and ready when the chauffeur driven black Mercedes drew to a halt outside the house. I kept my eyes averted when he entered the house. Toby walked across to me and buckled a collar around my neck before drawing a leather hood over my head. There were holes for the eyes and mouth, and I was not to be gagged as Toby had said that he found the screams of his victim extremely erotic. I had no real doubt that once the session got underway I would not disappoint him.

Toby changed out of his business suit. Now he had a pair of Wesco lineman boots on. Black leather and laced to the thighs. Apart from the boots he was naked except for a black leather jockstrap that had a removable front fitted with press studs and a pair of black leather gloves.. A leash was attached to my collar and Toby dragged me down the steps to the dungeon, all the while being filmed by Jed who followed with his camera. I was quite shocked by the violence of our initial encounter. Toby strapped my ankles to the base of the timber frame. More leather straps bound me at the knees and thighs. Steel manacles went around my wrists and were put over the pulley. Toby turned the handle until my body was stretched until my muscles hurt.

Toby had his sjambok out. A full metre of rhino skin, thick and heavy. He stood before me, towering above me.

“Do you know what this is boy?”

He drew the leather through his gloved hands. I could tell that he was savouring my fear. “N… n… no, Sir.” I was petrified at the sight of this massive guy with his whip, a weapon clearly capable of doing real damage to the human body.

Toby smiled. “It’s a sjambok boy. No ordinary whip.”

He strapped a protective pad around my lower back. “I don’t want to harm you. This will protect your kidneys if I get a stroke wrong.”

Toby disappeared from my sight line. I heard the sound of his boots on the stone floor.

“Are you ready boy?”

I nodded my head slightly, really scared now.

I think that I have quite a high pain tolerance but nothing prepared me for that first stroke of the sjambok. The pain exploded in my brain. I hadn’t had time to brace myself. Toby especially wanted the session to start from cold. Any sort of warm up helps prepare you for the pain. Toby, as a sadist, wanted to see the suffering that his sjambok produced and today he was in for a treat.

The pain was like nothing I had ever experienced. I screamed, I fought against my restraints with all my strength, which wasn’t even a fraction of what was required to defeat my multiple restraints. Jed told me later that Toby was beside himself with the excitement he was feeling. Quickly the second stroke hit home. My screams intensified. I begged Toby to stop. I was quite prepared to lose the money, I just wanted out. There was no way that was going to happen. I don’t think that the offer of a million dollars would have tempted Toby to abandon this session.

The torture continued. I lost count of the strokes. I was virtually delirious and at one point I believe I almost lost consciousness. My screams filled the dungeon and, watching the film later I could see the excitement in Toby as he went about the task of delivering the judicial beating. He was clearly using every ounce of his considerable strength. At the completion of the punishment, I could feel the blood running freely down my thighs from where the sjambok had opened up wounds across my buttocks.

I was unstrapped and fell to my knees. Toby grabbed the leash. He had pulled the front panel from his jock strap and his cock stood out horizontally towards me. It was massive, more thick than long. He forced it through the mouth hole in the leather hood. He was so turned on by the beating that he had given me that he barely lasted a minute before his juices blasted into me. I swallowed every drop and licked him clean.

After Jed had tended my wounds and put dressings on them we joined Toby in the sitting room. It seemed strange chatting like we were friends after what had just gone on between us. He was effusive with his praise for how I handled the sjambok. In reality I had not handled it at all, I had screamed very loudly. But somehow that was what he wanted.