Date: Sun, 27 Nov 2005 15:10:05 +0000
From: guenter0055@comcast.net
Subject: Dungeon Massage: Part 1, The Inspection

The rap of my bare knuckles on the door sounded like a cannon going off in
my ears.  My breath was short, my heart was racing, and adrenalin was
rushing through my body as I waited for the door to be answered by the man
whose Blade Classified advertisement I had replied to this week.  I had
double-checked my instruction and began the knock at precisely 1:00.  I was
wearing what He had directed: Levi 509s, no underwear, sweatshirt, socks
and slip-on shoes.  I was carrying a clean white jock strap in a brown
paper sack to wear home after the session.

His advertisement had intrigued me for weeks. "Dungeon massage for
experienced or novice, in shape men only."  On Wednesday, after summoning
my courage to call the telephone number listed in the ad, I was confronted
with a pleasant, yet commanding voice of a man about the same age as my 54
years. He asked me a series of questions concerning my desires, experience,
physical dimensions, and any limits I felt I had.  My answers were
evidently acceptable because he directed me to report on Friday for my
initial meeting and inspection and the possibility for further activities
if I passed his demanding and precise conditions.  Additionally, he
directed that following our telephone conversation, I not ejaculate prior
to our initial meeting two days hence.

One rap - no more- no less.  In what seemed like an eternity, but in
reality was no more than 30 seconds or so, the door opened and I was
confronted by a handsome leather Top, hands on hips, who directed me to
enter.  He appeared to be in his mid 50s, about 5'9" tall and was extremely
well built and definitely in shape.  His black Leather shirt hugged his
pecs and was tucked into the narrow waste band of his tight black leather
shorts, which accentuated his well-endowed package.  Black calf length
boots completed the dominant picture. Salt and pepper close-cropped hair
framed his broad chiseled face and his piercing brown eyes never strayed
from sizing me up.

"You know why you're here, so don't waste any of my precious time.  STRIP!"
With that command, I immediately began removing my clothes and folding them
into a neat pile on the floor of the dungeon.  It was taking some time for
my eyes to adjust to the darkness.  As I finished piling my clothes, Master
directed me to assume the Inspection Position that he had described to me
during our telephone conversation on Wednesday.  I spread my feet shoulder
width apart and interlocked my hands behind my head, exposing my entire
quivering body to his penetrating gaze and to whatever he had planned for
my inspection.

"Speak to me only when spoken to, and then make sure you address me as Sir
or Master!" he whispered in my left ear.  I was suddenly bathed in a bright
spotlight directed at me from the ceiling.  Where before, I was beginning
to make out the extent and furnishings of the dungeon, now I could not see
anything except the strong bright light.  I could hear his movements, but I
could not see him at all.

His hands began examining my head, in detail.  His fingers of one hand
explored my mouth cavity while he pinched my nasal passages with his other
hand.  "Suck!" he whispered.  "Good boy," he commented as he released my
nose and head.

The inspection continued with a thorough examination of each muscle group
of my body. The frequent use of massage oils had left the skin on his hands
silky soft.  He used slow, deliberate and detailed probing, concentrating
on my openings and my protrusions. My nipples were especially well
inspected and he tested them for endurance.  Almost no comments were
uttered until he reached my genitals.  Upon reaching my shaved cock and
balls he was extremely pleased and told me that I'd better keep them like
that all the time.  As his hands explored my balls and cock shaft, I began
to feel the blood rushing to his touch.  Total erection resulted when he
inserted a gloved finger probing my prostate.  "Bend forward." He
commanded. I could feel his turgid cock through his leather shorts as he
rubbed against my butt and thighs. I must have sighed, because he asked:
"So, do you want it?"

"Yes Sir," I murmured.

"You'll have to earn that privilege," he whispered as his tongue explored
my left ear.

With his right hand examining my prostate, he employed his left hand to
stroke my raging hard on.  I told him I thought I was going to cum.  "You
DON"T cum without my permission, boy!" he yelled in my ear.  Now I was so
scared that I began to shake.  He quickly milked my urethra, obtaining some
pre-cum on his finger and made me lick it off his hand.

After completing his examination by caressing my thighs and calves, giving
my balls a squeeze and slapping my butt cheeks, he commented: "I've
finished my inspection and so far you meet my standards. Do you want to
continue?" He asked teasingly.

 "Yes Sir," I murmured through my parched mouth and lips.

"You told me you regarded yourself as a leather slut, so I want you to put
this on and we'll continue with phase two," he commanded.  He handed me a
black, creamy soft, full leather hood.  It fastened in the back with Velcro
and had only a stitched finished opening for my mouth, although I noticed
that a mouth patch or gag could be attached with four snaps as needed.
Above the mouth opening was a space for my nose, but no openings of any
sort. There were three "D" rings sewn on the hood: One on the top and one
on each side near where the wearer's ears would be. As I maneuvered the
hood over my head, the delicious leather aromas began to fill my nostrils,
causing the blood to rush back to my cock.  Master correctly positioned the
hood so that my mouth was fully exposed and the bottom of the hood came
down over my throat and neck.  As he smoothed out the leather around my
head, he took up the slack in the neck area before fastening the Velcro
closures at the back of my neck.  The almost total sensual deprivation,
coupled with the leather aromatics was overpowering and brought a rush to
my brain.

His strong hands caressed my leather-encased head as he asked, "Are you ok
with this?"  "Y--Y--Yes Master," I managed to stammer without thinking.
"Lie down on the table, face up, " he directed.