By hard slave

How did it all start? I never considered myself submissive. If anything, I always took the lead, picking the restaurants, paying the tab, ending the night on top. And the whole leather-s/m scene struck me as a bit of silly play acting. I never thought I’d end up in some guy’s basement, trussed up like a turkey.

But there he was, holding court over a table of his friends. “I can turn any guy into my willing slave given the right tools and circumstances,” he boasted. I smirked as one of his companions replied, “you wouldn’t have to do much to convince me, Adam,” as he slid his hand up Adam’s thigh. Adam replied, “No offense, but I’m talking about an UNwilling subject, someone who presents a real challenge,” someone like our waiter here.” He pointed at me. “What’s your name, buddy?”

“Brian,” I replied brusquely, pretending not to know what they were talking about. “Can I get you guys anything?” I asked.

I went about the business of serving my station, occasionally returning to Adam and his crew, catching snippets of their conversation that included talk about bondage, discipline and control. Finally I brought the check.

“So, Brian, think you’re man enough to take me on?” asked Adam.

I looked at Adam and said, “I’m not really into that sort of thing. I think I’m too vanilla for ya.”

Adam laughed. “That’s what my friends here thought you’d say, but I know different,” he challenged.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I just think that given the right circumstances, I could get ANY man to willingly sign on as my personal slave, even you. ESPECIALLY you,” he said.

I just smiled as I served Adam his coffee.

By the time I returned, Adam and his friends had left. I found a $25 tip and a small note addressed to me, which I shoved in my pocket.

The rest of the evening was uneventful. When I arrived home my apartment was stifling, so I threw open the windows and started stripping off my clothes. I emptied my pockets as I undressed, finding the note I had stuffed in my back pocket. I stood there in my boxers and read it:

 

Brian:

$5,000 is yours if you agree to serve as a slave-in-training for three days under my tutelage. You must be willing to surrender complete control of your person to me. I will see to your needs, and no permanent harm or damage will come to you. At the end of the three days, you can either sign on for another month, or walk away with $5,000 in your pocket. If you elect to stay the month, you forfeit the money.

—Adam

onemaster@sademail.com

 

Once I got over the initial shock, I re-read it. Wait, did he make a mistake? He must have meant if I LEAVE I forfeit the money, right? But something told me this guy knew exactly what he meant. I looked down and smiled at my erection, which had found its way out of my fly. Was I really up for this? Little Brian throbbed as I read the note a third time, registering his vote.

 

***

 

I showed up at the address he had given me, nervous but excited too. Three days, how bad could it be? And then I’d have the cash, more than I earn in two months. I could take whatever he could give, I figured.

I jumped when I heard his voice over the intercom. “The door’s unlocked, step inside now.” I obeyed his first command, finding a note with a set of simple instructions:

 

Lock the door behind you. Strip. Place your belongings in the box and close the lid. Kneel, hands behind back, head down. No talking or moving until instructed further.

 

I thought, well here goes … I slipped off my T-shirt, jeans, sneakers and socks, hesitated, and then pulled off my jockeys and dumped it all in the wooden box. The lid closed with a snap, and I realized there was no handle, only a small keyhole. My stuff was locked up, and I realized there was no turning back.

 

***

 

I assumed the position and waited. I had no way of knowing how long I was there, but my knees were getting sore by the time I heard a door open to my right. Without a word, he grabbed me by the hair and fastened a leather collar tightly around my neck. I heard the snick of a small padlock, and then he attached a leash to the collar. He yanked the leash. I choked. “Hey!” I blurted out. Mistake.

He held the leash higher and tighter, pulling me off my knees. God he must be strong, I remember thinking. I felt myself start to lose air. He whacked my ass with what I later realized was a riding crop. Man, does that sucker sting! I didn’t know it then, but that crop and I would meet again several times over the next three days. He yanked the leash again, and this time I started crawling quickly on my hands and knees to keep up and avoid being choked. “Good boy. You’re learning already,” he said gently, as he ruffled my hair like a dog. I felt a strange satisfaction at having pleased him.

He led me on the leash into the living room. “Your first lesson will be in humility and service. I’m having some guests here tonight. You will serve as a useful object. If you do a good job, tomorrow’s morning discipline will be reduced. Fuck up, and you’ll naturally need to be punished. Now let’s get started, shall we?”

He kept me on all fours in front of the couch, positioned where a coffee table might be. I had my head down, of course, so I couldn’t see what he was doing, but I heard him rummaging around for some items. The smell of leather confirmed my hunch: restraints were soon attached to my ankles and wrists. The restraints themselves were of course attached close to each other, but then he ran chains under me in an “X” so that my left wrist was chained to my right ankle and right wrist to left ankle.

Finally, two short chains were connected to the front of my collar. One was locked to my ankle restraints, the other to my wrists. There was no doubt I’d be staying in that position for a while. Fortunately, it was not too uncomfortable. But that would soon change.

He left me there, and I heard him busying himself around the house, preparing for his guests. After about an hour, the doorbell rang. I heard him say, “Just put it down right there on the coffee table. Yes I mean there. Don’t worry, it’s fine. Thanks.”

I saw the delivery guy’s sneakers in front of my face, and I felt so humiliated. What was this kid thinking about me? The next thing I knew I felt something being placed on my back, something heavy and very hot. Soon my skin felt like it was being scalded. I wanted to protest but I was fearful of his reaction. Finally I couldn’t take it anymore. “Hey, how long is this thing gonna be here? I’m burning up!” After all, we had agreed to no permanent marks or damage, so I figured I had a right to complain. Wrong.

He came into the room and calmly lifted the chafing dish off my back. I was relieved until I felt the first hit of the crop. “You spoke without being spoken to, you failed to address me properly, and you refused to accept your role as an object.” WHACK WHACK, WHACK, WHACK, WHACK! “That will have to do for now. I will decide your punishment in the morning, based in part on your performance the rest of the evening.”

The burning pain in my back was subsiding, but the sting to my ass was like fire. I waited silently as he continued to prepare. In spite of everything I was not angry with him, but with myself for having failed already, bringing on my own punishment. I should have been able to take it. I was beginning to think like a slave, although at the time I didn’t realize it.

He sat on the couch and began to rub cold lube on my asshole, gently inserting first one finger, then two. I moaned with pleasure in spite of my situation. Then I felt a cold metal object being inserted into my rectum. I did my best to relax and take it for him, to make it easy for him. Finally it popped into place and I relaxed, but only for a moment. He then attached the other end of the anal hook to a short chain, which ran to the back of my collar. This had the effect of forcing my head upright. I would soon learn why this position was important.

He then fitted a black tray around my neck, two parts that snapped into place, creating a head-on-a-plate effect. Now it was getting damn uncomfortable. My neck was stretched and I had a chrome ball shoved up my ass. How long could I sustain this position? Not that I had a choice.

The doorbell rang again and he went to greet the first of his guests, but not before setting an ashtray down in front of my face.