Date: Tue, 7 Jun 2005 01:43:22 +0100
From: Story Teller <storymeister@gmail.com>
Subject: My Apprenticeship, Gay/ Authoritarian, Chapters 4-6

                                  Chapter Four


For the next three days I would come home from work, make dinner, shave
my pubes and arse and get ready for Mick to come home, then we would
watch TV, drink a few beers then have rampant dirty sex before falling
asleep together.   At least once in the night I would be wakened from my
sleep by Mick either sticking his cock in my arse or in my mouth.  I
never complained!   By now my arse was opened enough to accommodate him
without any pain afterwards, and I realised how much I loved being
fucked.

On the Friday night Mick came in from work, threw a bag at me and said,
"We're going out."   I looked in the bag and saw a white tee-shirt and a
pair of red braces.  I got ready quickly while Mick showered and when he
came out of the shower he looked at me in my bleached Levi's, tee-shirt
and boots.   "You look good, boy," he said, "Now don't let me down
tonight"

He went to his jacket and took something else out and said, "Hold still,
I've got you a present" and he fastened a dog's collar around my neck.
I lifted my cigarettes, lighter and wallet.  "Put that down, you don't
need it.  I do the buying and paying", he said

We went first of all to the Colherne in Earl's Court.  I had heard of it
but never been there, but obviously Mick was well known there and several
mates spoke to him as we went in.   Then I made my big mistake of the
night.  Mick went to the bar with me behind him, and I said, "I'll have a
lager and lime, please".   Mick turned and looked at me with such anger I
took a step back, terrified, and said "Sir".  This obviously didn't
pacify him because he grabbed me by the collar and said in a loud voice
"You'll have WHAT I say, WHEN I say, you ungrateful shit!"   I don't know
what frightened me more, the thought that he would hit me in that mood,
or that he would tell me to fuck off and not come back.  "Do you
understand me?" he almost shouted.  "Yes, Sir, I muttered, unable to
breathe".  "Louder, useless fuck" he said.   I looked at the people
staring and then said in a clear voice, "Yes, SIR, I apologise for
stepping out of line, I had no right to speak to you like that, I am
truly sorry."

The anger died a bit in his eyes and he turned back to the bar and
ordered 2 lagers, No lime.   "If you want a poofy drink, drink with
poofs,"he said.  He walked around the bar talking with several guys and I
followed behind, standing about 2 paces back, and he totally ignored me.
  Every time he finished his drink he would buy two more whether I was
ready for another or not, but still didn't say a word to me.  I noticed a
big guy in leathers looking at me and quickly looked away, but soon
afterwards he came over and said "Hi, there, I haven't seen you here
before".   Mick turned quickly and said, "Fuck off, Queeny, that belongs
to me.  The guy backed off and Mick looked into my eyes and said, "Did
you encourage him?" but before I could say anything, one of his mates
said "It's OK, Mick, I've been keeping an eye on the kid, he didn't do a
thing.

At about 10.30, he turned to me as if nothing had happened and said,
"Drink up, mate, we're leaving, I feel like doing a club"

We went somewhere in Hampstead, to a private club he belonged to and when
he bought some drinks, we sat at a table with three other guys.   By now
Mick was talking to me as if nothing had happened.  A fourth guy joined
us and started talking to the company.   He looked at me and said, "Who's
this? Where did you find him?"  "He's nobody special, just a lippy little
cunt working off a dept" I felt as if hot knives were being stuck through
my heart, was that all I was?

"What you doing with him?" asked the stranger.  "I'm teaching him to be a
good ride", said Mick.   "Any good?" the man asked?  "Oh. Yes" said Mick,
"He's a right little slapper, can't get enough"  "A good cocksucker?"
"Yes, want to try it?"  "I wouldn't mind."

Mick turned to me and looked into my eyes with coldness I hadn't seen
before and said, "My friend wants his cock sucked".   The guy grinned at
me and opened his trousers and pulled out a dick even thicker than
Mick's, although not quite as long.  I looked at Mick and he nodded.   I
went down on my knees in front of the guy and leaned forward.  I don't
know whether I was trying to impress the guy or Mick, or trying to prove
something to myself, but I took his head in my mouth and slid my lips
right down his length until I had taken the lot first time.   It nearly
choked me, but I held it until my throat adjusted, then I slid back and
started to work it with my tongue, playing with the head sliding up and
down the shaft.   The guy leaned back and moaned.  "Fuck, he is good", he
said, I might even try his arse."  "No you won't," said Mick, "That's
mine."   He pulled my waist until my legs straightened and opened my
jeans, pulling them to my knees.  He took out his dick, wiped the precum
away with his hankie so that it was dry then thrust himself into my arse.
  He took up the rhythm of my cock feeder so that they were both
thrusting into me at the same time.  It didn't take long before they were
both shooting into me.   The stranger sort of pushed me away, but Mick
grabbed me, turned me round and gave me a kiss of such passion that my
knees literally buckled and he had to hold me up.

Hw sat down and pulled me on to his knee and said to the others present,
"This is the greatest little fucker I have ever met in my life.   He
slipped up earlier and made a bad mistake, but he has just proved to me
that he is willing to do as I tell him without question, not something
you find easily nowadays" He looked into my eyes and I felt as if I would
cry, but he leaned over and whispered in my ear "If you show me up by
crying like a girl, you're walking home." Several other guys asked Mick
if they could use me, but he turned everybody away.

A young guy working behind the bar started to flirt with Mick, I was
really angry, but I knew it wasn't my place to say anything, if Mick
wanted to have him, there was nothing I could do about it.   It was soon
obvious, though, that Mick wasn't interested, so he flirted with several
others until he was playing three guys against each other. Mick whispered
in my ear that he was playing with fire and would get more than he
bargained for, and sure enough, the guys soon got fed up with his
teasing.

Two of them grabbed him while the other pulled his trousers to his ankles
and ripped the shirt off his back, then they spread him over a barstool.
  Two held him while the third took his belt from his trousers and
wrapped it twice around his hand.  He dangled it in front of the boy's
eyes for a moment to let him see what was to happen to him then he
brought it down with a loud crack against his bare arse.   The boy
screamed and struggled.  The guy with the belt put one foot on the boy's
trousers to keep his legs still and said, "Somebody shut the fucker up."
  One of the others pulled out his dick and rammed it roughly down the
boy's throat.  The guy with the belt hit him again, swinging wider and
hitting him lower.   He hit him about eight or nine times spreading his
aim until the boys arse was really red all over.

I was still sitting on Mick's knee and I was very scared in case the boy
was seriously hurt and raped, although I was kind of turned on at the
same time.   Mick, seeing my face, leaned over and said "It's OK, he knew
what he was doing before he started, he is up for it."  The guy with the
belt opened his trousers while his mate was still ploughing into the
boy's mouth.   Meantime, the third had reached under and was pulling
violently on the boy's cock and balls.  The first guy pulled on his hard
dick a few times then thrust it right into the boy's arse.   By this time
he had stopped struggling and was trying to suck on the cock in his
mouth.  The guy in his arse didn't take long before he shot his load and
he pulled back.   Immediately, the guy pulling the boy's dick stopped,
moved round and started to fuck him.  Suddenly the guy stuffing his mouth
let out a moan and started to shoot, the boy gobbling madly to catch the
load, but some leaked out of his mouth and ran down his chin.   The guy
fucking, seeing this, came right away.  The senior barman, who had been
standing watching and wanking said, "Hold the fucker, I want some of that
too", and stuck his cock into the now wide-open hole.   Someone else
stuck his dick in his mouth and he clamped down on it like it was
oxygen.  By now men were taking turns to fuck him, some pulling out
before they came to give others a turn and just wanking themselves over
his back, his head, his legs.   By the time we left a few of the guys had
taken a second go, spunk was oozing from his arse and running down his
legs, and other loads were drying onto his skin and hair.

When we got home, I knew I needed to shower before I could go to Mick but
when I had washed and was drying myself I caught sight of my arse in the
mirror.   A shiver of fear ran through my body:  the signature was
wearing away.


                                  Chapter Five


I realised that my time was limited, so I swore there and then never to
wash that bit of my arse until I had to leave.   I had been with Mick for
slightly less than a week, I was going back home in a month, I was
determined that I would make this last as long as possible.

I dried myself and went through to the bedroom.  Mick was already in bed
playing with his dick.   I climbed in beside him and we kissed for a
while before he turned me over and fingered me.  I think he was still
turned on by what we had seen earlier, because he slapped my arse a few
times, hard enough to make it bright red, before giving me a long hard
fuck that brought me off twice before we fell asleep.

Since the next day was Saturday and we were both off work, we played a
lot during the night too, but I still remembered to get up early enough
to get the boots shining and waiting for his inspection before I took him
a cup of tea in bed.   Saturday night he took me to a club called "The A
& B" where we had a few drinks before going on to a club in Victoria
called "The Cabal" where we danced together for several hours before
walking home.   We saw three or four guys standing at a corner and Mick
must have realised I was a bit apprehensive, he put the rings on his
right hand and with his left hand he gripped my hand and we walked right
through them.

Strangely, his courage sort of rubbed off and I knew if anything started
I would be ready to do my bit.   Mick stared each of them down and they
backed off.  Once we were past them I felt a slight anti-climax, as if I
had really wanted to fight, to prove myself again to Mick.   When we got
home, I almost raped him; He lay back on the bed and I threw myself on
top of him, rubbing our dicks together.  I sat up and straddled him and,
taking his dick in my hand, I raised myself up until he was at my arse,
then I pushed myself down on him as hard as I could.   I rocked, wriggled
jerked and thrust, Mick just sort of let it happen to him.  I was
shooting my load over him when he finally let go and gave me my reward,
filling my arse with his juice.   When I stopped moving, he gently raised
me up and turned me round so he could see my arse.  He licked and kissed
me, sucking his cum out of me before grabbing me and sharing it with me.



Over the next week or so, we settled into a happy routine, almost as if
we had been together for years.   By now I was sporting a No.1 cut which
Mick cut every second night when he was doing his own.  We were both
happy to stay home most nights talking, having a beer or something.   I
had discovered early on that Mick was a really interesting intelligent
guy and we had some great conversations.  He taught me about sex,
explaining S&M, bondage, domination and servitude among other things, but
we also discussed music, politics and other matters.   It sounds as if we
settled into a rut, but it was always exciting, each night brought
something and I hurried home every night.  Sometimes I got things wrong,
like the time I pressed his jeans with a crease, that got me a few slaps,
but even those things made me happy. Every day I examined my arse to make
sure the signature was still visible, but it was fading fast.   I had
considered trying to go over it to with a pen, but I realised even I
couldn't forge someone else's signature on my own arse reflected in a
mirror.   I finally started to just touch individual bits making a dot; I
figured if one bit of ink could be seen, my bonded servitude was still
valid.

One night Mick came home and I could tell he was not in a good mood.  At
such times I never knew whether it was my place to ask what the matter
was, I was concerned and wanted to help but I knew that he could easily
tell me to fuck off and mind my own business.   I knew it was bad when,
instead of opening a beer he took a bottle of vodka from the cupboard and
took a long drink from the bottle.  He took a second drink then looked at
it as if he might take another, but seemed to think better of it and put
it back.

He grabbed me and kissed me; one of the cold sex-kisses then pushed me
away.  He saw the hurt in my eyes and he grabbed my hand, and said, "I'm
sorry, it's not your fault, I caught one of my colleagues stealing today
and I had to report him.  He was sacked immediately.   He has two kids, I
feel like shit but I had no choice".  He hardly touched his dinner,
dragged me to bed early and we had really cold disinterested sex.
Suddenly he grabbed my face and said, "Fuck me".  I didn't know what to
say, but I knew it wasn't a request, it was an order.   He opened his
legs and I started to wet his arse. "No.  Dry" he said.  I pushed my dick
into him and it was obvious that I was the first in a long time.   I
started to fuck him but he kept saying, "Faster, harder, hurt me."  I
climaxed, but it was joyless, I just held him in my arms for the longest
time.

The next day things were back to normal and we went out to celebrate.
Mick took me for a meal, which caused a few raised eyebrows.   There was
no such thing as a gay restaurant in those days, so we found a quiet
little place off Greek Street.  Mick made it very obvious that we were
"Queer", and an item, lighting my cigarette, pouring my wine, and wiping
some sauce from my chin with his napkin.   When the waiter told him that
people were complaining, he "Threw a fit" in a loud camp voice.  I just
fell across the table laughing.   He informed the waiter that if we
weren't welcome, we would leave, but he had no intention of paying our
bill if we had to go.  The waiter conferred with the manager who came
over immediately. He wasn't at all happy, but when Mick whispered to him
that if he didn't agree, Mick would make sure that at least six of his
friends came in every night for a week, and if they weren't served, there
was a grave danger of his windows being "given the treatment", the
manager quickly agreed that we shouldn't really have to pay since we
hadn't finished our meal.

We went on to a pub in Notting Hill called "The Chepstow" then Mick told
me he was taking me "Up the heath."   We went to Hampstead and Mick led
me though the trees.  He stopped and fixed a dog leash to my collar and
led me further onto the heath.  We stopped at a bench and Mick sat down,
I went to sit beside him, but he tied me to the side of the bench so that
I had to kneel beside him.  Another guy came along and sat down talking
to Mick, and clapping me on the head.   He started to talk about me as if
I weren't there discussing my training etc.  Mick explained his methods
as if I was a dog and he was my trainer.   Mick told the guy his name and
the guy introduced himself as Matt asking, "What's it's name?"  Mick told
him to call me "Boy"   "Does it do tricks?" Matt asked.  Mick looked me
in the eye and this time there was warmth and kindness.  This time he was
giving me a chance to back off, I nodded slightly and he said to Matt,
"Go ahead, play with the boy, but don't take him away.

 Matt pulled me to my feet and grabbed me to him.   He dropped my
trousers, turned me round and fucked me, Mick sat watching proudly as I
serviced Matt bringing him to a fast conclusion.  Mick took hold of the
lead and led me away.   We came across two guys, one fucking the other
against a tree.  Mick led me over and bent me forward so that I was able
to lick the arse of the guy doing the fucking.   This caused the guy to
shoot, and when he drew back, I was pushed forward to suck on the arse of
the guy who was fucked.

We were in the heath until 4am during which time I was fucked 3 times,
sucked 5 men off and got sucked off twice.   I saw a guy tied to a tree
being whipped, someone else tied to a bench with his legs open taking all
comers and guy being strangled until he shot his load.  I saw many
watchers including a couple of women and I had the time of my life, I
felt as if I had found my true vocation in life, I was going to be a
slut.

We went home eventually and I undressed and aimed for the bathroom, but
Mick grabbed me and pulled me back.   "I'm all sweaty and dirty, sir, and
my arse is still full of spunk", I said.  "I know", he said, "And I want
you that way."  He bent me over the back of an easy chair and fucked me
hard and slow.   I had already come twice, so I was a bit shot out, but
he waited and waited until I was ready.  When I finally reached the top
of the ladder he let go.   He had held back all night while watching me
being serviced, and when he climaxed it went on and on.  I don't know
whether it was because of the spunk already in me but I felt his warm
juice running down both my legs.   He then picked me up in his arms and
carried me to bed, saying, "I'm proud of you" That was all, but it was
enough.





                                  Chapter Six


Before we knew it, it was my last week.  I really had to return home, my
future depended on it, although at times I felt as if my future lay under
Mick's control.   By now, the mark on my arse was a faint smudge and I
had given up trying to enhance it, I no longer needed it to feel where my
duty lay.  Each night our lovemaking became more frantic. On Wednesday we
were fucking for the fourth time that night when I looked at him and
spoke.   "Sir, in 5 weeks I have never asked for anything, I have
accepted what you offered and loved every second, but now I want to ask
for one thing."

Go ahead", he said, "I'm listening"

"I've watched you whenever you saw anyone being beaten or whipped, and I
know it does something for you, whip me, please Sir".  Mick held my face
in his hands and looked at me "Are you sure you want this?  It's going to
hurt like fuck".   "I know Sir, and I want it, really."

"Do you want tied down and gagged to make it easier?" he asked.  "No Sir,
I want to try to stand it if I can"   "OK, but if you tell me to stop I
will"

He put two pillows across the middle of the bed and put me across them so
that my arse was well raised.   I waited while he got a belt, which he
doubled into his hand.   "Are you sure about this?" he asked.  "Yes Sir,
I'm sure and I'm ready".   Before I had time to change my mind I felt
what was undoubtedly the worst pain I had ever felt as he brought the
belt down across my arse with a quick swing.   I bit onto the pillow
under my face but a loud groan still escaped my mouth.  Again he hit me
and my back arched in a spasm before I could lie flat and grit my teeth.
  Five, six, seven times he hit me, by now he was waiting after each lash
giving me the chance to call quits, but a strange thing was happening.
My arse was burning, my flesh was aflame but I was starting to like it.
Each crack of the belt seemed to send the heat straight through my arse
and into my cock.  Now instead of stifling a scream I was moaning and
grinding my dick into the pillows.   Mick saw what was happening and he
pulled me half off the bed so that my arse was draped over the edge.  He
took his dick out and buried it into my red burning hole.   As he fucked
me he started whipping my back, not as hard as he hit my arse but enough
to hurt and sting.  My body was bucking and shaking, I had lost all
control and never wanted to stop.   When we both came that night I
thought I would never calm down, Mick had to hold me while I came back to
reality.  Later Mick stood me up and turned me to the mirror so I could
see my back and arse, I couldn't believe the state of my body, I couldn't
even remember being hit that much.   My arse was a solid red mess, with a
few tinges where blood was beginning to show and my back was
criss-crossed with welts.  I lay on my face all night unable to sleep,
not from the pain but from the strange feeling of euphoria that enveloped
my body.

The next day, my last day at work was a daze of goodbyes.  I was invited
to go for a drink at lunchtime with the people I had worked with.   I
made an excuse and said I needed to check something first.  I rang the
number Mick had given me in case of an emergency:   He asked what was
wrong and I explained that I had been invited for a drink and asked his
permission to go.  I hadn't been out with anyone but him for the duration
of my service and I didn't want to do it without his say so.   He gave me
his blessing and told me to enjoy myself, but to meet him at Berwick
Street after work.  I had a few drinks then went back to the office and
cleared up.   I left early and went to Charing Cross Road, which had
loads of bookshops.  Mick was a keen reader of history, particularly 19th
century political stuff.   I managed to find a rare first edition of a
book he had read but didn't own.  It cost a fortune, but since I had
spent nothing on food or drink for five weeks I could easily afford it.

We met at 5.30 and he took me to a tattooist working in a small back room
of a barbers shop.   The tattooist was a friend if Mick's and when Mick
explained what he wanted I was told to drop my trousers.  Jake, the
tatooist whistled when he saw the state of my arse, still scarred and red
from my whipping.   Mick looked over and said proudly, "His first time
and he never said a word".  Jake whistled again and caressed my cheeks.
Mick produced a drawing he had made of a small monogrammed "M" and it was
engraved on my right buttock.  The signature had disappeared totally, but
now I was marked for life as belonging to Mick.

We went back to the flat and Mick cooked a meal, the first since I
arrived and we ate quietly drinking a good bottle of wine.   I gave him
the book and he was quite speechless.  We went through to the bedroom
early and although we should have gone at it at it like cats in a bag, we
both held each other slowly touching, stroking caressing.   Mick raised
my legs and gently entered my body.  He took it long and slow and every
now and then he would stop and withdraw then start again.   We fucked
like that for over an hour, trying to make each minute last for two.
When we climaxed it was all to do with love, nothing to do with sex.

We cuddled together for the last time that night because I had to catch
my train the next morning.   At 8am I got out of bed; Mick grabbed my
hand and told me to come back as I had plenty of time before I had to
leave, but I explained that I still had all my chores to do before I
left.   I cleaned the house, washed all the dishes and then I polished
Mick's boots.  There were as many tears on the boots as there was spit
but I got them gleaming.   Mick came through as I packed my stuff,
including the clothes that Mick had refused to let me wear.  I never wore
them again.

Mick put his arms around me but as he unclenched he removed my collar, I
felt so naked I shivered, but he replaced it with a fine gold chain which
I have worn ever since.   I turned away in case I made a fool of myself
but when I looked back Mick had turned away too.  I grabbed my stuff and
practically fled from the flat, I couldn't take any more.   I got to
Euston station and caught my train but my heart was still in London.

                                    Epilogue


We stayed in close touch with each other and over the years we saw a
great deal of each other.  My career blossomed and I was very successful,
eventually going into politics.   I was never a skinhead, but I always
polished my boots and cropped my hair before visiting Mick.  He also
developed his career and became quite well known in banking and business
so he had to modify his life style slightly but whenever we got together
the years just rolled back and we were two young guys rutting like
rabbits.   I had other lovers over the years, but no one else ever
whipped me, I would never allow any man to treat me the way Mick did.
What he did with others when I wasn't there I have no idea, I had no
desire to know and if I had asked I might well have got a slap or worse.

Any time I visited him I polished his boots, something any newspaper
would have paid a fortune for a picture of.

Nine years ago Mick died of a heart attack and I arranged his funeral.
That did make the papers, but no one thought too much about a politician
attending the funeral of a major figure in banking.   They didn't know it
was me who sent the wreath with the card that said "To Sir"