Date: Mon, 22 Jul 2013 11:00:26 +0100
From: Matt W <spanking4u@hotmail.com>
Subject: Grant: Part 1; First visit, first evening

I know that many of the stories here say this, but what follows is as much
of a true story as I can remember from the time - names have been changed
to protect the innocent

At the time that this happened, I was 35 and had recently come out of a
significant long-term relationship. My relationship had not included
anything in the way of non-traditional sexual activity, something which I
had long known I wanted.

When I became single, I joined a number of dating and hook-up sites,
including a number of more kinky and SM oriented ones. I don't remember now
on which site I first encountered Grant, but I know that it wasn't long
before we were chatting on MSN Messenger fairly regularly. I had discovered
a side to myself that had been laying hidden for far too long, by desire to
won and use slaves and Grant seemed to fit into what I needed more than
most I had come across.

Grant was 36. He was an experienced slave and houseboy, having been trained
up in a harsh household some years ago. As we chatted, I knew I wanted to
meet him. At the time, I was living in Brighton and Grant was living in
London, so to visit me he was going to have to travel down on the
train. Grant needed humiliating, so I told him that for his first visit he
would travel down in his slave uniform – short smart blue shorts, smart
short-sleeved shirt and nothing else, no underwear and no
footwear. Furthermore, when he arrived at the small station closest to my
home, he was to remove his shirt and would be walking home with me in just
his shorts – topless and bare foot. We arranged for him to report on
Friday evening, so he had time to go home from work, change out of his
working `professional gentleman' attire, shower, shave and put on his
`slaveboy' attire, so it was about 9pm when his train was due to pull into
the station.

I had been out for a drink with some friends and had stopped at the local
supermarket to pick up a few things before heading to the station to meet
the boy (as I will call Grant from here on, as that is how he was addressed
at all times). Apart from the fact that the station was closer to my home,
I had told the boy to get off at Preston Park rather than the main station
because I could await him on the platform, and see him get off the train to
ensure that he obeyed my instructions about what he should be wearing.

I'm notorious for being early for everything, so I was on the platform a
good quarter of an hour before the train was due to arrive. The boy texted
me as instructed when his train left the previous station,


"Just left Hassocks, Sir"


"Am on the platform at PP. Have you removed your shirt?"


"Yes, Sir, it is in my bag"


"Good boy. How r u feeling?"


"Nervous, Sir, humbled, Sir"


"Good, that is as it should be"

A few minutes later a train pulled into the platform. Only one person got
out – right at the very rear of the train, a full platform length from
where I was standing by the steps down to the road. Even though the light
was fading, I could see that it was a tall and slim man dressed only in a
pair of shorts with a small rucksack on his bag.

The figure walked down the platform toward me, alongside the train as it
pulled out of the platform. Finally he reached me,


"Good evening, Master Dan, Sir," he said. I looked him up and down and then
held out my carrier bags of shopping,


"You can carry these, boy."


I turned and walked off the platform and down the steps to the road, by new
slave/houseboy by my side.


The boy was taller than me, and slimmer. Being dressed only in short shorts
(ones which came about three inches above the knee) I could see that his
body was in decent shape. His chest hair had been trimmed, and his head was
shaved. He was wearing black steel rimmed spectacles.

The walk to my house from the station took around 15 minutes, and during it
I reminded the boy of what was expected of him over the course of the
weekend while he was in my service – we had agreed that he would stay
until Saturday evening. The most important thing, as I stressed to him, was
that he was to remove his shorts as soon as we were in the house without
being told – slaveboys should be naked, I believe - and then kneel in
the hallway with his hands on his head until I was ready for him.

The walk was without incident, except I had to remind the boy on a number
of occasions not to slouch and to walk tall beside his Master. Finally we
reached my house. I told him to hand me the shopping as I got my keys out.

I opened the front door and walked into the house, going straight through
to the kitchen with the shopping. I heard the front door close behind the
boy, and I took a little while to put the food, etc. away in the fridge and
the cupboards. I looked round the kitchen – on the side was a whole
week's washing up. Whilst I had a dishwasher, I had kindly saved up my
washing up for the boy to do. When I was ready, I walked back into the
hallway to get my first sight of my new boy fully undressed.

He was kneeling on the hard tiled floor as I had told him to, hands clasped
on his head, eyes downcast. He had clearly put his shorts into his
rucksack, which was in front of him on the floor as instructed. I picked it
up and took it upstairs and put it away in a cupboard in the spare room –
he wouldn't be needing it or anything in it for 24 hours. I brought down a
number of `essential' items for the next few hours, some of which I put
onto the dining table, before going back into the hallway.

Standing before my new houseboy, I told him to raise his head. Without
looking him in the eye, I buckled a leather collar with D-rings around his
neck.


"Stand up, boy."


"Yes, Sir," he said, obeying.


I clipped a leash to the front D-ring of the collar and used this to lead
him into the living room, where I stood him in the centre of the room. I
sat down and look him over. As I have said, he was taller than me (probably
about 6' 2" to my 5' 10"), and slimmer (a 32" waist to my 36"). He had told
me that he exercised daily – cycling to work, running most evenings and
working out with weights in his bedroom – and his body showed that, it
was in decent shape. He wasn't muscular by any means, but his body showed
definition and tone. His penis was flaccid and of a decent size and he had
a good sized pair of balls, not that I was particularly interested in his
genitalia. He had told me that he had been trained not to become erect
whilst serving by a previous Master, something which appealed to me as I
felt that a flaccid penis showed that he was not serving because he was
getting off on it, rather because he knew that it was his proper place as a
slaveboy. I had seen when I met him that his chest hair had been
trimmed. Now he was naked with his hands on his head I could clearly see
that the same had been done to his pit hair and pubes. His balls had been
shaved smooth.

"Next time I see you, boy, trimming that hair will not be enough. You will
shave or wax your chest, pits, pubes and arse, boy."

"Yes, Sir, sorry, Sir."

"And if it has not been done to my satisfaction, I will do it myself,
understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

I had him turn round. His buttocks were small but plump.

"Bend over and reach back to spread your cheeks, boy."

He obeyed, pulling his arsecheeks apart to show me his hole. The hair in
his crack had been shaved and his hole was clean.

"When were you last fucked, boy?"

"About a fortnight ago, Sir."

Leaving the boy standing in this exposed and humiliating position, I went
into the dining room and picked up a bottle of lube, a butt plug and a
couple of other things. Going back to the living room, I squatted by the
boy and touched him for the first time, lubing up his hole. He grunted as
my fingers entered him for the first time and again as I withdrew
them. Picking up the plug, I lubed it up too, and then pressed it against
his anus, pushing gently and watching as he opened up to the invasion,
slowly, inexorably pressing the plug into him as his breathing became
louder and he groaned as the widest part of the plug stretched
him. Finally, that moment came where the hole accepts the plug totally and
closes gratefully onto the thinner stem attaching plug to base. The boy
grunted and exhaled sharply as his butt clamped shut on the plug, but his
fingers never loosed their grip on his buttocks.

"You may put your hands back on your head, stand up and face me, boy."

He did so, wincing as he turned as he tried to accommodate the new
sensation inside him. I reached down beside me once more, stood up, and
showed him the pair of nipple clamps I had in my hand. They were identical
to the ones he had been wearing in a picture he had sent me when we were
chatting – small, metal and with alligator clips on the end with nasty
metal teeth. I had never worn such things, but I was pretty sure they were
not pleasant! The chain between them would hang most attractively, and if I
wanted to lead him by his nipples, it would be ideal. I opened the first
clamp with one hand, whilst squeezing his left nipple out ready to receive
the clamp. He closed his eyes and I slapped his face and told him to open
them and look at me. He did as he was told, and I squeezed the nipple
again, lined up the clamp and slowly let it shut, capturing his tender
flesh. As it bit down, he grimaced and gasped. I could see his arms tense
as he clasped his hands tight on his head. Giving him a moment to adjust, I
looked him up and down again – he was breathing more heavily, but
calming himself down. I repeated the procedure with his right nipple,
squeezing, approaching and slowly closing. Again, he gasped, grimaced and
tensed.

I stood back – he looked good collared and clamped.

"Now you're almost properly attired to be my slave, aren't you, boy?"

"Yes, Sir."

"How are you feeling, boy?"

"Humbled, Sir. Exposed by being naked in front of someone I only met less
than an hour ago, Sir. Embarrassed at having had to show you my hole and
have you fill it with your plug, Sir. Sore at having your clamps on my
nipples, Sir."

"So, boy, what do you still need to be properly attired to be my slave,
boy?"

"I need a red bottom, Sir."

"And how should we achieve that, boy?"

"I need to be spanked, Sir."

"So what do you say, boy?"

"Please, Master Dan, Sir, please will you put me across your knee and spank
me until my bottom is an appropriate shade of red for your service, Sir?"

"Very well, boy, come with me."

I took hold of the leash again, and led him into the dining room. I turned
one of the dining chairs around, sat down on it and patted my knee. The boy
moved round to my side and lowered himself over my lap. I positioned him so
that his bottom was in the right place for spanking, and he put his hands
on the floor in front of him and stretched his legs out behind. And I
spanked him.

For me, I don't like seeing a houseboy with an unreddened bottom – I
like to see a bit of colour in his cheeks! Also, I think that a spanking is
not necessarily a punishment; rather it is a form of discipline, a way of
reminding him of his place. And putting a grown man across my knee with him
naked and me fully clothed really brings home to him his place as my slave.

I knew from my chats with the boy before he visited that he did not like
being spanked. Now, I know that most people don't like being spanked, but
many find it erotic in some degree and often a problem with slaves can be
that they do get off on a spanking, which makes it less useful as a
disciplinary approach. This boy, however, was not like that. A spanking to
him was unpleasant, painful, humiliating and totally unerotic. All the more
fun for me, then!

I didn't bother with any `warm-up' spanking – when a boy starts a
spanking naked anyway there is little point in going easy to start with. So
I began spanking pretty hard. I've been told in the past that my hand is
pretty powerful and that it can hurt more than some guys do with a
paddle. And now the boy was feeling it for the first time.

His bottom started going a pleasing shade of pink, and as the spanking
continued he began grunting, groaning and squirming over my lap. Having the
butt plug inserted meant that as he squirmed that moved around inside him,
which occasioned more grunts and groans, but I kept on going until his
bottom was a nice cherry red colour. When he was properly attired, I led
him back into the hallway and pointed to the front door,

"Right, boy, whenever you are not in use you will stand with your nose
against the front door, hand on head and with your feet against the walls
either side. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Right then, get into position, then."

He walked to the door and stood as I had directed. My hallway was fairly
narrow, only the width of the front door. I made sure his nose was actually
touching the door, and that his feet were against the hall walls. I then
took a few pictures of his red bottom for posterity and left him there, the
plug clearly visible between his buttocks.

After a few minutes, I decided it was time for him to get to work –
that, after all, was what he was there for. I picked up a ball-gag from the
table and fitted it into his mouth and then led him into the kitchen and
told him to get on with the pile of washing up I had left for him. After
telling him that I wanted it all washed, dried and put away and that when
he was , I left him to it and went to sit down in the living room to watch
TV.

I hadn't been there very long when I heard the unmistakeable sound of glass
breaking. Getting up, I went back to the kitchen, to find the boy on his
hands and knees with the dust pan and brush, sweeping up the remains of a
tumbler which he had just dropped. Without a word I took hold of his ear
and dragged him into the dining room, bent him over the table, picked up a
cane from the table and gave him six swift and hard strokes to his bare,
red bottom. Putting the cane down, I told him to get back to his work, and
went back to the living room.

After some time, I decided I needed a drink.  "Boy!" I called out.

The boy came into the living room and mumbled "Yes, Sir?" as best he could
through the gag.

"Get me a glass of red wine, boy."

"Yes, Sir," he mumbled again.

A few moments later he returned carrying a glass of wine. He knelt before
me and held it out. I made him wait a few minutes before taking it and
nodding to indicate he should resume his work. As he left the room I was
pleased to see that his bottom was still nicely red from his spanking, with
the cane lines standing out on top of that.

Eventually, I heard the boy walk down from the kitchen to the hallway. I
left him there for 45 minutes until the film I was watching had finished,
when I switched off the TV and the lights in the living room. I went down
to the kitchen, ignoring the naked, red, plugged, clamped and gagged boy
standing in the hallway and made sure that the kitchen was tidy and
everything had been put away. It seemed to have all been done properly, and
the boy had cleaned all the surfaces as well.

Going back to the hallway, I told the boy to turn around. He moved his legs
together with some difficulty, and turned.

"You've done a good job there, boy."

"Thank you, Sir," he mumbled through his gag.

"We are going up to bed now, boy."

I took his leash and led him up the stairs. Standing him in the corner of
my bedroom, I got undressed, had a pee and sent him to relieve
himself. Took the gag our and I told him to remove his plug and clean it
and bring it back to me. When he returned sat on the edge of my bed and had
him suck me off. My cock is not enormous, but it is about 7.5" long and
pretty thick, and he gagged somewhat as he swallowed it all down. He was a
good cocksucker, however, and it didn't take long before the cum was
churning up in my balls and spurting into his mouth.

"Don't swallow it, boy," I said, as he suckled on my still twitching
cock. When I was finally finished, I withdrew from his gob.

"Open your mouth and show me, boy."

He opened up, and displayed his master's cum on his tongue. I had him kneel
there with his mouth open while I went and had a final pee and finished
getting ready for bed. Only when I returned did I allow him to swallow my
load.

"Thank you, Master Dan, Sir, for allowing me to suck your cock."

"That's OK, boy. Just time for a bedtime spanking before we go to sleep."

I sat back on the edge of the bed and put him back across my knee. Picking
up a wooden hairbrush, I gave him about 5 minutes of good hard spanking,
which had him yelping and writhing. As a last disciplinary measure, I
removed the nipple clamps before he slept. He grimaced and gasped loudly as
the blood rushed back into his tortured nipples. Putting the clamps on my
bedside table, I pointed to the floor beside my bed,

"Lay down, boy, and get some sleep. You've got a busy day tomorrow."

I lay back in my comfortable bed, my naked slave on the floor beside me,
switched off the light, and was asleep in moments.