Date: Tue, 14 Apr 2020 22:40:32 +0000 (UTC)
From: obd4@aol.com
Subject: When Master Calls (5)

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All the stories in the When Master Calls series are based on true
experiences.
I'm on my back on Master's bed, legs drawn up and apart to allow
whatever access Master may need. He's sitting next to me with a finger
deep inside my hole, He moves it around, corkscrewing, stretching and
probing as i writhe and shudder hoping for ever more intrusion. But
intrusion is not the right word, Master cannot intrude into His own
property; with His other hand he is masturbating "my" penis, pulling
the foreskin back and forth until i feel i can't hold back - yet He has
not given me permission to come; when Master calls me to His service my
coming is so seldom permitted that i have learnt never to expect it and
to concentrate only on Master's pleasure; i feel more pressure in my
arsehole as Master pushes his finger to one side and inserts another,
opening me more widely to his exploration, his claim; any part of my body
is as His own, His rights, even its insides.  I am now dangerously near
spraying my seed all over master's hand, his bed, i dare not speak but
hope that my quicker louder breathing may indicate my need and my fear; i
begin to shake and reach out my left hand to touch His back, to feel the
cool smoothness of His skin: still He persists, the rhythm increasing in
speed ....
I think back to my nervous arrival that morning.  Master's call had made
me anxious because my recent disobedience would be obvious to Him as soon
as i undressed.  Let me explain.
The previous week at the end of my visit Master took me into the
bathroom, i at first thought He wanted to piss over me as a means of
humiliation, maybe even He wanted me to drink His piss as i knelt like a
supplicant before Him. But no. In Master's hand was a razor.  In His
other hand a can of shaving foam.
"Raise your arm boy."
As soon as i had lifted my right arm the foam was spread and the razor
busily moved up and across, back and to, removing every single underarm
hair. My dick was rock hard, the feeling of being so much under His
control that Master even decided how i should look thrilled my whole
being, revelling in His possession of my body and His infinite care.
Obediently i raised the left.
"Don't be stupid boy, why would I want to shave both your armpits?"
Of course! Master in His wisdom was planning a greater humiliation;
sending me home with His seed all over my hair, as He had once done, or
even drenched in His piss, are humiliations which soon wear off. One
shaved armpit would take a while to disappear and in contrast with the
other would look ridiculous.
"Thank you Master."
But I was precipitate in my response.  We were not finished!
Master sprayed more foam over the left-hand side of my pubic hair and
began to draw the razor downwards towards my clit (which He so often
called it) then, taking hold of my penis, He drew the razor in a slow
move upwards, ensuring there was a clear demarcation between left and
right, between hair and smooth skin, between a manly growth of hair, and
a pathetic, immature lack of it.
"Look in the mirror boy, you will remain like this until I call you
next, on no account will you shave the other armpit or the other side of
your pubes!"
Yes, it did look ridiculous in a kind of mismatched symmetry.  How would
i look in the changing rooms at the gym, how blisteringly red would my
face become if other men noticed?
I expressed my thanks once more and bent to kiss Master's feet.
For two days i risked the possibility of embarrassment at the gym, trying
hard to be on my own as i removed my t-shirt and underpants. I avoided my
usual session in the pool after my workout, and then on the third day,
unforgivably ungrateful, i decided to shave the other armpit and the
other half of my pubic hair; now at least everything would match.
So, a week later, standing before Master, i was in fear and trembling,
avoiding His eye as i obeyed the order to take off my clothes. Master
likes this to be done quickly and without any fuss: clothes in His
opinion have no place on a sub or slave.
His reaction was disarmingly quiet.
"I'm very disappointed.  Why have you disobeyed me?"
"I ..I..I'm sorry Master, I was just afraid of being seen ... of the
embarrassment."
"And?"
Master knew i could have no answer to this one word question. What answer
could there be? He had tested me and i had failed. I had failed to bear
the embarrassment and humiliation in order to please Him.  Worse - i
should not even have considered this to be embarrassing, i should have
been proud to bare myself in front of others, showing Master's changes
to my body. (After all i had several times before bared my arse in the
changing room knowing it was striped with the welts cause by a severe
thrashing.) A better sub, a better slave would always think first of his
duty and take pride in his servitude. I realised i had a long way to go
to be considered worthy. It was as though i had denied Master in public.
It was now that i experienced the blistering red shame, the TRUE
humiliation, standing with head bowed before Him. I instinctively dropped
to my knees and dared not gaze upwards.
Most often Master's punishments were for His own amusement; He punished
me because He chose too, no other reason could possibly be needed of
course.  Today was different, i had been disobedient -- a horrible, ugly
word -- and the punishment would be because it was merited. I felt the
need to show obeisance even more than kneeling before Him, i pushed my
legs backwards and fell forward in a posture of complete prostration,
pushing every muscle and fibre of my body as close to the floor as
possible, trying to sink my being into the ground, trying to be level
with the soles of Master's shoes, a writhing worm as base as could be.
There i lay for what seemed a long time. Master said nothing.
Then, at last, "What is your favourite word boy?" He already knew the
answer.
"Obedience, Master."
"And whom do you obey?"
"Master, i obey You, Master."
"Do you?" His voice was still surprisingly calm, His tone quizzical.
I could see where He was leading me and was grateful for His guidance.
"Sometimes i let You down Master and i am bitterly sorry and regret it
very much, i only hope You can forgive me Master for being so weak.
Please , please forgive me Master, i beg You, i will never let You down
again and will always strive to do Your will and think only of Your
command. Please Master, Please! I began to cry, the carpet so close to my
face was becoming wet with my tears and my voice was shaky.
Time seemed to have stopped.  I sensed that Master was texting or
emailing with His phone.
Eventually He spoke again.
"You will be punished. You will be punished most severely. You will be
punished in front of a witness so you will remember with shame and regret
what you have done. But you will not be punished today; when I call for
you next you had better be prepared!"
I tentatively raised my head and through my tears i thanked Master for
taking the trouble to correct me.
"Stand up boy and come here, I can see you're in no state to be
punished today and that your regret and repentance are sincere.  You've
been honest in your responses and the punishment will be better taken
when you're in a calmer frame of mind."
Master pulled me to him and held me close to His chest as i sobbed, He
gently pushed His middle finger into my mouth and i sucked on it
greedily, gaining comfort from this tender act.
He led me to the bed.
So here i am with Master's fingers deep inside my arsehole and my dick
about to explode.  He has not stopped masturbating my penis and gives me
a curious grin; is it permission to come? Is it a sly glint, a reminder
of the punishments which will come who knows when?  All i know is that it
pushes me over the edge, beyond any control or care for consequences -
and my whole body tightens as my seed pulses and sprays in a great shower
of release. I know once again the power of Master's hold over me.
He gently kisses me on the lips then wipes the jism from his hand across
my face. In giving me this release Master has shown His extraordinary
wisdom, His ways can never be predicted but He has reminded me how he can
be all things to me and how grateful i should be, and how ashamed when i
let Him down.
When Master next calls i will be ready; the fear of His correction is
already palpable, but so is the yearning for His presence.