Date: Fri, 19 Apr 2024 15:03:42 +0000 (UTC) From: "obd4@aol.com" Subject: When Master Calls Part 16. (Gay Authoritarian) When Master Calls, Part 16 Here is another true account of life with Master, i hope you enjoy it. Please keep writing to tell me what you think or just to exchange ideas, and don't forget to keep supporting nifty! When awaiting Master i often get over excited, so much so that keeping still and focused is a real problem. Take this morning for instance, Master has told me to be ready for Him but there are no further instructions. This means i must use my initiative, perhaps not a slave's best quality! I decide that prostration is best, the position i feel is most appropriate when awaiting Him. Master in His call told me to remain clothed, having checked i was wearing a t shirt, briefs and shorts. As i say there were no other instructions so i placed myself on the floor, arms stretched forward, palms flat, legs apart, facing the direction of the door. My aim in this position is to meld myself with the floor, to become as much as possible one with it so that on His entrance Master will see, should He choose to notice, the outline of His slave on the carpet, as low as low can be, not presuming to raise itself in any way. But this has its problems as i writhe and fidget: my hard-on is rubbing inside my clothes against the floor; excitement tingles in my body so that i shiver and almost piss myself with anticipation in the thrill of the wait; and my briefs are already a little damp with precum. I will know when He has arrived as there will be the sound of His car outside, the turn of the door handle as He enters; this doesn't help as i know there is no need to settle down until that moment but of course a short period of calm beforehand would help me enter the correct headspace. Master's pleasure recently has been to have other men witness my punishment - if you have read the previous episode of my chronicles you will know about the man-god who thrashed me so severely - but sometimes all that Master wants is a witness, another person present to observe my humiliation, my shame. I say shame but in fact i am always proud to accept His correction. It would have been impossible to imagine just a few years ago how readily i would accept such treatment and the account of today's visit by Master shows just how far i have gone down the rabbit hole of subservience and submission. So there i am trying to blend with the floor, inner calm definitely not achieved as my mind whirls and races! Master takes His time. Having heard His car arrive it seems like minutes before the gate, then the door open and before me are His feet. It's a great surprise when He orders me to rise, lifting my now almost quivering body into His embrace. His arms are firm around my shoulders and He pushes His face into mine. In an instant His tongue is inside my mouth and He is passionately kissing His slave. This is bliss, an unexpected joy in which i can feel only weaker and more helpless in this manly grasp! Of course i should never forget my place in this hierarchy, instinctively i part my legs in case Master needs access to my balls. But again there is a surprise, He begins to undress me, gently, like a parent preparing a child for bed. Not yet permitted to speak i can only gaze at Him and marvel at His tenderness and His ability to surprise. He lifts my T shirt over my head and drops it to the floor. There is a tingle of excitement, the air on my newly exposed skin. His fingers trace a line up and down my back. It is exquisite! I tremble with joy. From behind me now, unseen, His hands undo the waist band of my shorts, they loosen and fall and as they do so the exposure is startling. By now my briefs are taut, my dicklet straining the thin cotton and showing up the dampness of the precum. But Master takes no notice and, still from behind with His own erection tenting His joggers and pressing against my arse, He slides His hands over my flesh up to my nipples and then i know that my ease is near an end. Though i have often written about Master's delight in using my nipples and i am well used to the pain, He always manages to find new ways of using them. This time His mouth is at the back of my neck, i can feel His breath, His whole body pushes into the back of mine as His fingers begin to twist the nubs which He insists i work on every day to increase their size and sensitivity. All i can see is each of His hands while the pressure increases between the finger and thumb. Pushing His body further into mine he moves His arms forward, away from my chest but doesn't release the nubs, it is as though He is pulling them away from me so i stagger slightly forward too as though led by them. In response Master's hands sharply twist, right, left and i gasp a little with the pain. Release when it comes is balm indeed, especially as Master instructs me to follow him to the chair, crawling, of course, and instructs me to bury my face in His crotch. I inhale deeply keen to get the essence, His man scent. These are precious moments, to be savoured above all others; Master lowers the front of His jogging bottoms and reveals the magnificent bulge in tight red briefs and draws my head further in. I lick, sniff, bob my head up and down crazily getting as close as possible to the seat of His masculinity concealed by just a thin layer of fabric. It's a surprise when He pulls down His briefs too and allows me my first view of His cock so early in His visit. His instruction, "Play with my cock and balls", always puts me in a quandary. How do i "play" with these objects of desire, this supreme source of manhood which cause me sleepless nights of craving while i try to keep my hands off my dicklet, following His orders not to masturbate? How do i casually "play" with such a precious gift? "Worship", yes, but "play" is far too trivial and disrespectful. So worship is the approach i take. To make the most of the opportunity all the senses need to be brought into play. I gingerly lean forward to inhale, in the hope of that glorious man scent, i know the chance will increase if i gently, oh so gently, use my thumb and index finger to peel back the foreskin, the thin delicate skin softly rolls back between my unworthy fingers, i can hardly believe the privilege to be touching a real man's person in so intimate a way -- and i am rewarded! The glistening, smooth head is revealed, moist with sweat and spent piss and is sending me into a world of heady bliss, that unique cock smell! No longer can i help myself, and dart my tongue out like a snake to delicately touch the tip of His penis, i slide it back and forth, the underside of the tongue slithering over the smooth head and when i lift it a little there is a slick delicate thread of precum, or is it saliva or even a mixture of the two joining my tongue with His cock. His cock, my tongue! The salt-sour taste drives me on and soon i am darting my tongue in a fast staccato motion in and out, up and down the underside of His dick. Is Master pleased? Does He acknowledge my devotion? How would i know? It's no concern of mine and i continue to serve in the best way i know, now taking the whole length of His cock into my mouth and throat, moving my head up and down like a man with a single purpose, a devotee at a shrine where repeated simple actions may bring grace and favours from an unfathomable deity. Up and down goes my head like a piston, around His cock my tongue works overtime frantically seeking to please Him, swirling and licking, all other awareness is suspended until He lifts my head and says, "Good boy." Naked, kneeling before Him, my hair in a wild mess, my eyes glazed over in the frantic attention to prolonged cock sucking, mouth open and dribbling slightly i bask in the beauty of those words. "Good boy". "W/we've got a visitor coming," He announces. "Let's think about how I want you to appear." On the seat next to Him i notice the phone on which He's been scrolling while i've been servicing His cock. There's a Grindr profile on the screen and i surreptitiously try to look, Master immediately pushes my head aside. "None of your business; just remind me of the postcode." He taps a few words and the postcode into the device and turns it over. "Now, let's get you sorted. Turn around on all fours and face the window." I obey. Soon the doorbell rings and Master, now completely naked, rises to answer it. Before He brings the visitor into the room i quickly snatch Master's briefs from where He dropped them and gather them to my face, i may need such simple comfort with what is to come and hope to gain strength from holding these close to me. From my position on the floor, legs apart, head and forearms resting on the ground i can see backwards into the room, but my field of vision comprises only the feet and lower legs of O/our visitor and, of course, Master. "Take off your clothes if you want," says Master, "I hope you enjoy watching, this is my slave who I enjoy punishing." Not sure why the visitor is invited to undress, maybe he will be wanting to masturbate while he watches or even participate, i begin to fear what Master has in mind. My arse is presented for whatever He may choose; fortunately my face is probably not fully visible to the stranger; what he can see are buttocks, backs of my thighs, the soles of my feet. Master reaches for the heavier of the two riding crops which are resting on the chair and without any ceremony brings it down in a flash across both arse cheeks, there is barely time to register the pain before two more blows descend and then, surprisingly, a pause. It's quite a long pause, as though something is wrong. I wait nervously and see that Master has moved towards the man, feet are really close and T/they appear to be making out in some way. "That's made you hard mate, I've only struck him three times, wait till you see him squeal and squirm, you'll really get off on it if you like watching that!" I get the impression Master is playing with O/our new friend's now hard dick. "Let's get on with it. Hey, what the fuck are you doing!" The last remark is meant for me, while T/they were making out i had pulled Master's briefs close in to inhale the scent. "Look he's got my underwear in his face, you'll suffer for that!" The crop is now used more forcefully but there's still something wrong, Master reminds me and i apologise profusely. "Thank You Master, i must remember my manners." And now with every strike across my backside there follows my profound thanks, sometimes with barely enough time to express them. "Thank You Master. Thank you Master. Thank You Master .... ." Here in my own house i am being thrashed by Master, observed in my humiliation by a complete stranger whose face i cannot see, whose name i do not know. He hears me cry out in pain, he hears my repeated, ritualistic expressions of gratitude to Master and he sees the reddening evidence of the riding crop as it marks my arse cheeks - creating welts which may last a while. And i, kneeling there in such submission, am hard as a rock, my dicklet the more rigid as the pain and humiliation increase The young man can't stay long and begins to dress, there is a moment of intimacy with Master as He fondles him and i hear them kiss. I remain in position, i have no authority to move. My face, red and tear streaked, is as yet unseen so it's probably as well. When Master returns from letting him out He bends to lift me up, kissing me as passionately as He did when He arrived an hour before. He tells me to lie flat out on the floor and then wanks himself, coming very quickly and with great power, shooting wave after wave of hot sperm all over my body. I revel in the warm splash of His precious seed rubbing it over myself and thank Him yet again for this blessed gift. Thank You Master, I cannot wait for you to call again!