Date: Sun, 23 Jan 2005 05:11:31 -0800 (PST)
From: Subtoy Kimy <subtoy_kimy@yahoo.com>
Subject: Consented Enslavement (Ch 03)

Warning: This story is about gay sex and domination between young
adults. If this subject offends you, or if it is illegal in the country
where you live, or if you are under 18, then read no further and quit this
page now.

(c) Subtoy_Kimy 2004 - All rights reserved


Consented Enslavement (Chapter 3)
by Subtoy_Kimy < subtoy_Kimy@yahoo.com >


CHAPTER 3: SWEET AND SOUR CRUELTIES

I was like stoned, and without even thinking of what I was doing, I laid my
hands on his belly, and lightly pushed him away. He opposed no resistance,
and let himself back, like wondering where I was to get to. I kept on
pushing, till my arms stretched out, and there was enough space for me to
get on my knees. Then I stood up while staring at him. I knew how precious
this instant was. I knew this was the last time I could face him from our
equal height. After a few seconds of a hard hesitation, I bowed my head,
and knelt down before him.

"Kevin... please..." was all I said.

Then I looked up at him, inquiringly. From his dominating position, he also
was looking down at me, obviously proud to have achieved his final win over
me.

"Kevin... please..." I repeated, and I meant every bit of the feeling that
was in it.

With no hesitation, he spread his right arm, with his fingers straight
open, and instructed: "From now on, you address to me as 'Master', is that
clear?" And he hadn't yet finished saying it, when the palm side of his
fingers went slapping across my face.

"Uhhh!... Yes Master."

"Hope this will help you remember," he said, while holding the topside of
his hand straight to my lips. "Now kiss, and apologize," he ordered.

I held his hand in mime, while perfectly aware that this was the one of his
hands that he had just slapped my face with, then I closed my eyes, and
with an enormous respect, I kissed the top side of it.

"I apologize, Master," I said, just as he ordered.

"Now, c'mon! Stand up!... And get rid of your clothes! Harry up!" he said,
and turning his back on me he added: "I'll be right back."

Just as he walked towards the rooms, he let his towel drop down, and I had
enough time to admire the backside of his naked body. From his broad
shoulders, where the sun had tanned the skin, and drawn the stripes of his
training I-shirts, and all the way down through his milky white tall back,
the V shape of his slim body was unbearably gorgeous. God! If he meant to
take advantage of his perfection on me, then I had to prepare for a hell of
suffering.

He walked without hurrying, almost like exhibiting, as if he had no doubt I
was in admiration, and I was. But at the same time, I was also trembling
with fear, to think that he was aware of it. Just before he passed through
the door, and without even turning back, he addressed to me again,
ordering: "Get my towel... And you drop it in the laundry basket."

Not even minutes had passed, since I knelt down before him, and yet, he was
already treating me as if I had always been his own private houseboy. Deep
inside, I felt awfully offended by this superior and anonymous authoritty
in which he addressed to me, along with this offhand manner of keeping his
back turned, taking it for granted that I will execute. Because of his way
to order it, bending down and picking up his towel felt more degrading than
anything else, including his slap on my face. I wondered how much of those
tasks I would have to bear, before I deserve the right to worship his
body. All I knew is that it surely won't be given.

...

It didn't take a minute before he was back, and all of what he had
instructed me was done. I had removed my clothes to the underwear, but
beside that, I was trembling with fear, like a piece of paper. He just laid
the cell phone he had brought out with him on a shelf, near the TV set.

"See this?" he asked, with half a smile on his lips, and while raising his
arms to display a bunch of belts he brought out with him as well, and that
he kept holding. There were four leather belts, of natural brownish colors
and slightly different width, and he held them by two in each hand.

"Yes, Master," I said, inquiringly.

"They're for the brits', you know. I just wonder how come they left them
here, when they packed," he said, with an expression of a fake innocence
that boosted both the charm of his face, and the cruelty of his intention.

"I really don't know, Master," was all I said, while starting to guess
where exactly he was getting to. But he seemed to have not yet had enough
with this teasing introduction.

"I understand they left a lot of stuff they wouldn't need, while in
England," he said, "but I mean, belts are something one can use anywhere,
right?"

On many occasions yet to come, I will have reasons to think that for him,
teasing is not only a formal introduction to what he is about to subject me
to, but also a source of pleasure, in itself. A sadistic pleasure. Among a
teasing preparation to a subjecting act, and the subjection itself, I
sometimes even wondered, which of both was for him the target reason, and
which was only an instrument to reach for it. Of course, he often used
teasing to just delay his own pleasure, so to make it even stronger, and
more enjoyable, when it comes, while for me, teasing added to my suffering
a moral dimension, to the physical one. It used to raise my hopes for a
possible renouncement, and then make them drop down from their highest,
when his final verdict of no renouncement comes to be announced. It will
become more and more obvious to me, that he enjoyed any situation where he
could spread his power over me, as long as he dominated the victim of his
beauty that I was. Whether teasing me with his cruelties, or subjecting to
them, as long as I feared and hated what he was doing to me, he just found
his pleasure in it.

In this very situation, if I still had some wishful doubts about his
willings or intentions, the double meaning of "belts are something one can
use anywhere" left no place for any hope. It made it clear that he was
going to whip me, and I just found it unbearable how he carried on taking
his time preparing to announce it.

"Now, go to the bar, and surprise me," he said. "Execute by yourself what
you think is my next order."

I only nodded, because there was nothing I could say. I went to the corner
of the living room, where the bar is, and I bent over it, laying my arms
crossed on the top of it, and my head on my arms, face down. I could almost
hear my heart beating.

"Good," was all he said, and disregarding my shyness, he grabbed my briefs,
and slowly slid it down. "These cutie little buns seem like starving to
know how fine leather belts taste like," he added, and the palms of his
hands went stroking my bottom, slowly and lightly. I sighed.

"You like it, little slut" he said, while he carried on working me.

I could only figure out the graceful beauty of his gorgeous fingers, and
how they were cruising around my butt, and the heat spread all over my
body. My breathing started to get faster, and my penis to reach its
hardest.

"You like this, don't you?" he asked.

"Oh! yeah! Master... but it's too much."

Indeed, after one or two minutes of this, the feeling of it has become even
more intense than I thought it will. In my previous sexual relations,
though not too many, I never had experienced sensations of that intensity,
and never thought physical pleasure could reach such peaks. I was just
about to grab his hands to stop him, or to just have a break, but I feared
what this would cost me, so I dared not. His hands carried on slowly
working my butt freely, making like soft and slow rotations, while my
breathing was going faster, deeper, and mixed along with a continuous
moaning.

After a few minutes of this, I felt my load could burst out anytime, but
disregarding that I needed him to stop or to just allow me a break, his
smooth fingers started to even seek for deeper explorations. On each one of
their rotations, they threatened to slide between my buns, and this was
electrifying. Whenever they moved away, it was only to come back again and
threaten again. Accordingly, I was tightening my muscles as much as I
could, to protect myself from a further entry of his fingers, and I could
only release when I could feel it was safe to do it, but then tightened
again, as the movements of his fingers was commanding. As he enjoyed this
kind of a war game, where he was threatening to attack and I struggled to
defend, all my body was jerking, under the unbearable magic of his finger
touch. I drowned into the heat of the sensations he was bringing me, and I
just couldn't say when or how it happened that the side of my face was
directly laid the bar, with my arms fully stretched out, and my hands
grabbing the far edge of the wooden top, so tightly that I could have
broken it. I only realized that I was sighing and screaming and begging,
all at once, and it went like: "Uhhhhhh, Kevin.... Uhhhhhh, Please... Kev,
fff... Uuuuuuhhhhhh.... Fff uhhh, Kevin
pleaeaeaeaease... Uuuhhhhhhhhhhh..." From where I was, I surely wasn't able
to say what I was begging for, was it to stop, or to go on?

After some more minutes of this, intensity of pleasure was such, that it
became nothing less than an unbearable torture. But disregarding how I
felt, his unmerciful fingers kept on slowly cruising around, and working my
butt, and using me. While I couldn't bear anymore of it, he kept on
cruising around but also started to open and close his fingers, as if
grabbing something, and this added a new variety of sensations to those he
was already bringing me. It went from gentle scratching with the edge of
his nails, to deep raw rubbing with the palms of his hands, through light
brushing and stroking with his fingers, and back again, with no expectable
order, nor rule... He was driving me mad.

When he decided that I had enough, I was totally done. He could have asked
me anything, and would have got it. Indeed, I had no strength left to
resist anything, and I guess this was precisely what he meant to make me
reach for.



CHAPTER 4: THE BRITS' BELTS

Though I badly needed it, he allowed no break:

"Can't wait to see those cutie white bubbles blushing red," he said, while
holding the belts high in his hands. "Now, choose the one you'd like me to
start with," he added.

For Christ sake, who said I would like such a thing? I couldn't believe I
was ordered to participate in choosing the tool of my own pain and
humiliation.

(To be continued)

_________________________________________________

P.S. I address my gratitude to those of you, readers, who sent to me your
beautiful motivating words, to help me going on writing, with more
self-confidence. I namely thank Roland, Maxwell, J.David, John, Denis,
Frank, for his clever analysis of the protagonist characters, and also
Stephane (from France). I really hope to keep your appreciation and
enjoyment same, till completion.

Then I mostly would like to address my special feelings to Jason (from NY),
for his vibrating kindness, and securing care. I'll just say this, but with
my eyes closed: Thanks Jason.

Names featuring in this story are fictional and totaly invented. If they
happen to belong to existing people and / or places, it's only by pure
coincidence.

Finally, and as usual, comments (positive or negative), corrections, and
suggestions are of course, mostly welcome. < Subtoy_Kimy@yahoo.com >