Date: Thu, 28 Dec 2023 15:00:39 +0000 (UTC) From: "obd4@aol.com" Subject: When Master Calls - Part 15 When Master Call, Part 15 As usual this is a true story of my life as a sub. I have really enjoyed reading your comments and hearing about your experiences, please keep sending them. Remember that Nifty needs our financial support to carry on keeping us entertained and informed. I am on all fours, totally naked, in my own house, head on the floor, face to the full length window, staring backwards between my legs, straining to see what Master is doing. I'm acutely aware that my arse is striped with the many marks made by the crop; they will soon develop into real welts. It has certainly been an intensive session so far. The doorbell rings and Master moves to answer it, He admits a man -- i have no idea who he may be. He is led into the room but ignores me and i strain to see more of him without betraying the fact that i'm moving, albeit ever so slightly, without permission. Master is silent, the new man speaks quietly but with an authoritative air, i can't quite make out what. I hear the unbuckling of a belt and the soft rustle of clothes. As i strain further from my upside down point of vision i can just make out the crumple of jeans and red boxer briefs resting on his feet and, above them, firm, thick, manly legs. Master has occasionally hinted that He sometimes likes to serve other men but the reality of this has never really entered my consciousness - the truth is that it's no concern of mine - but what is happening now is quite a shock. From my humiliating position, the more so as i am completely ignored, i see Master on His knees with His face in the crotch of this man. They are quite close to me and i can hear licking and sucking but can see only the visitor's legs and Master's feet and His back as He leans into him. I wonder if i dare move, turn slightly to get a better view of this extraordinary sight, but no, i dare not and just at that moment i sense Master reaching behind Him for the riding crop. "Here, Sir, you can use this if you want, he likes to take it hard. Like you see I've already been working on him." Sir, He is calling him sir! The weirdness of this situation confounds me. The blow when it comes is sharp but not too painful, it strikes both arse cheeks with equal force and i remember my manners, a conditioned response of course, as i thank him, quickly adjusting my usual words of gratitude from "Thank You Master" to "Thank You Sir". I haven't got any instructions (let alone an introduction) despite this man, whose face i have yet to see, being a guest in my house. My only concern is not to let Master down and i decide to deal with the situation as a test of my loyalty to Him. From my compromised position i see O/our visitor's feet move closer to my backside, Master shuffles closer on His knees. "Use it harder Sir, if you want, he's used to it and needs to be punished." Instinctively i push my arse back and upwards to ensure a more satisfying, firmer impact, an offering to this guest; but this time the leather tip of the crop tickles at the insides of my thighs and rises up to push at my balls. Naturally i move my knees further apart to allow better access. The next few minutes see the crop flying at speed, again and again swishing across my buttocks then shooting up between my legs to beat my balls. There's a short pause while Master pulls my arse cheeks apart as though to display some obscene prize and i feel utterly without any dignity or self-respect as the crop is brought down vertically on to my crack. No sense of dignity indeed, but an overwhelming sense of something else, the awareness that i may be pleasing Master and am being of service to real men. Maybe that's all the self-respect I need! The blows have now become so fast that it's difficult to express my thanks for each one and i find myself gabbling out my gratitude as though repeating some kind of litany or mantra, "Thank you sir! Thankyou sir! Thankyou sir! Thankyousir! ThThaaankyousir! Thakusr!" The blows have stopped, my arse is stinging like hell but as yet no one has spoken to me and i clearly have no permission to move. To my left, and at right angles to the window i'm facing, is a sofa. Now seated there -- only his feet in my field of vision - is the nameless man. From behind me i hear Master speak. "Is he allowed to watch us sir, he might learn something?" I can't detect the reply but i am prodded by Master who tells me to kneel alongside Him as He lowers Himself to kneel between this man's legs. "What do you see there? What do you think of his cock? That's a real man's cock, not like your pathetic little thing. Tell him what you are and what you've got between your legs and tell him why you're being humiliated and punished." For the first time i take in the full magnificence of this man. Dark skinned with tattooed arms, thick muscular legs and a look of supreme confidence. It's as though his own body itself knows that whoever gazes on it is being honoured, an honour that is not bestowed lightly. Leaning back with hands interlocked behind his head the armpits are exposed and i can only imagine what musky scent must be there for those who are privileged to get closer. There's a faint smile on his lips -- no hint that any other communication will be given or is even necessary. One knows how to behave in such a presence, why would he concern himself with words? Master and i, well, W/we are there to serve and to witness. For a few seconds it's like Master and i are equals, two worshippers at some kind of shrine to masculinity O/our eyes now fixed on his cock. No words can do it justice: it rises rigid, thick and glistening with precum where the foreskin begins to peel back over the smooth head. Worshipping this proud phallus with its bull bollocks resting beneath is now all that matters. My voice almost quakes as i see why even Master pays obeisance to him. "It's m-m-massive Master, awesome, not like my little willy, my clit." I'm helpless in my adulation, my hair a mess, my mouth open in wonder, i care no longer how i may look; where i have sobbed with pain after the beating there are still the damp streaks of tears; my voice when i speak will be hoarse from both the deep throat fucking Master gave me earlier and the endless crying out of my thanks to this new god of a man who beat me so severely. "What are you?" Master reminds me of His orders. "I'm a pathetic slut Master, Sir. I'm being punished and humiliated because I disobeyed You." "Tell him what you did!" "I masturbated sir, without permission." There is a smirk on the visitor's face, then He indicates that Master should take his cock. Mesmerised i shuffle a little nearer, but Master tells me to back off, i am not worthy to be any closer. Sucking off this perfection of maleness is a man's work, no business of mine. Master is fast and efficient in His sucking, up and down His head moves piston like, totally dedicated to His work. It's not long before there is a gasp from the man and in Master's throat i hear the unmistakeable gulping sound as a spume of man-seed is deposited there. With an adoring look Master pulls back and stares up to the impassive face, taking a moment to contemplate the gift He has received; around the cockhead i notice a few glistening drops of the precious jism and i dare to point to it, Master leans forward again to lick it off and i daydream of how wonderful it might be to suck this man-god's spunk from Master's mouth, playing his seed back and forth as W/we kiss. But only Master is worthy of this gift and with barely a pause an arm reaches out to draw Him back to the still rock hard penis. Master is sucking again and within minutes there is a second wave of spunk filling His mouth. There seems to be no limit to this man's virility! Of course this is not a man who hangs around. He is soon off the sofa and Master rises to pass his clothes, He also passes him my jeans so he can wipe his cock on them. As soon as they are out of the room i scamper across, still on my knees to claim the tiniest reward, and i bring the traces of semen, just visible on the blue denim, to my face. Before Master gets back i return to my original position to await whatever He may have in mind next. Master had promised me punishment and humiliation when He called me this morning, and i fear He is not done with me yet!