Just Another Confused 18-year-old

But, even if I'd wanted otherwise, Sir gave me no choice. He gave a massive groan and it was obvious right from the start he had no thought of withdrawing. I felt the warm spurt hit the back of my throat as he started to shoot his spunk into my mouth. Again and again and again he thrust into me, pumping his load deep into my mouth. Again and again I had to swallow until he was replete and, with a sigh, he sat back and relaxed.

I didn't want it to stop so I kept his prick in my mouth, sucking the last few drops of spunk from its tip, feeling it gradually grow flaccid. Then, as Sir relaxed, I gently kissed it with tiny butterfly kisses as I waited for him to have time for me.

"More enthusiasm than skill," Sir commented once he had recovered. "I suppose you think that lets you off your thrashing."

"No Sir, of course not, Sir," I replied although my stomach was full of butterflies at the thought of a thrashing.

"You can kneel up straight for a start. You have a lot to learn about posture. You slouch about as if you've got no backbone. Here, try this." He leant over to the coffee table and picked up a book that was lying there. He then balanced it on my head.

"If you can keep that book on your head I'll limit your thrashing to thirty strokes. If you let it fall then it becomes fifty strokes. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir."

He reached into the hold all and pulled out a short length of chain with a crocodile clip at each end. I was still wondering what it was for when he leant forward and attached the clips to my nipples. As the sharp little teeth bit into me I gave an involuntary jerk and, for a moment, I thought the book would fall.

"Oh, dear," Sir said. "Nearly fell at the first hurdle. You can do better than that, can't you boi?"

"Yes, Sir, I'll try Sir," I replied a little breathlessly. The clips were far from unbearable but they did throb somewhat.

Sir reached back into the bag and, this time, he fetched out a leash like the sort you would use on a dog. He clipped the end of the leash around the chain and then sat back in the armchair.

"Are you a pain slut, boi?" He gave the leash a little flick causing bolts of fire to shoot from my nipples. "Do you like a bit of pain? Do you like being hurt?"

"No, Sir, I don't, Sir," I replied.

"Well, you like something about this, don't you?" He reached out with his foot and nudged the end of my prick with his toes. "Something's turning you on. What is it boi?"

"I don't know, Sir."

"Don't know, Sir," He mocked as, once again, he gave a tug on the leash and the book on my head wobbled precariously. "Don't give me 'don't know, Sir'. What's turning you on so much? What's got your dinky little lilly white prick so stiff and hard?"

Whether Sir knew it or not this was a big question for me. I wasn't gay, was I? And, even if I was gay, was I really the sort to get off on being some sort of sex slave to... And then I remembered having his prick in my mouth, how good it had felt. He was so big, so strong, so manly, so wonderful that I just wanted to bow down and worship him. Maybe I was that sort. But I wasn't a pain slut; the constant tugging on my nipples told me that. It wasn't the pain that turned me on, it was something else. Sir was still waiting for an answer. And then it struck me.

"Please, Sir, being your boi turns me on, Sir."

"Does it indeed," he said with a smile. Still he played with the leash and the tugs on my nipples were agony. "And do you think you're good enough to be my boi?"

"No, Sir, but I'll try my best, Sir." And, right on cue, my struggles to keep still against the ongoing torment from my nipples failed and, with a thump, the book fell to the floor.

"Oh, dear." With a weary shake of his head Sir reached down, picked up the book and put it back on the coffee table.

"Come closer, boi," he said, not unkindly. I shuffled forward and he reached out, took hold of my chin and looked me straight in the eye. "Do your best, boi, that's all I ask. Now, there's a small item of fifty strokes to be dealt with, isn't there?"

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir," I said, although I had no real idea what I was thanking him for.

"Well, get over my knee then."

It was a little awkward as Sir still wouldn't let me move my hands from behind my head and, with the nipple clamps in place, I had to be careful not to knock them but it wasn't long before I was in the classic 'over-the-knee' position. Sir reached between my thighs and rearranged me until I was how he wanted me, with my buttocks uppermost and my still rigid prick poking down the gap between his thighs.

"Have you ever been thrashed before?" Sir asked.

"No... no, Sir, I haven't," I admitted.

"Hmm... I'll go gentle with you then."

As he reached down to the bag beside the chair I glanced sideways so I was able to see him take out a leather paddle. Then, with one hand set in the small of my back he set to. If that was being gentle then I know I could never have taken hard. He gave five thwapps of the paddle to one buttock and then switched to the other for another five. This done he paused for a minute or so, stroking my battered flesh with his hand. He even reached between my legs as if to check that my prick was still hard. And then he started on the second set of ten. This time my buttocks were already raw and pain just piled on top of pain. I swore to myself that I would be strong, that I would be brave, but, for all my resolve, this was far beyond what I could take. Again the pause, again the stroking, again he reached between my thighs and then, again, we were off for the next ten.

At this point I broke. I couldn't help it. "Please, Sir, please, I can't take it," I cried out as I removed my hands from behind my head and flailed behind me, trying to ward him off.

"Put your hands back behind your head!" he roared. "Don't you dare do that again or I'll have to tie you up and then you'll find out what a real thrashing feels like."

"Please, Sir..."

"Silence!"

Slowly, still shaking like a leaf, I put my hands back behind my head. I wanted to beg, I wanted to plead, I wanted more than anything for this punishment to be over but, tellingly, I never once thought of leaving.

"Now, because of your appalling behaviour we'll start that batch again. See if you can manage to control yourself this time."

Once more he set to and we were maybe three or four strokes in before, once more, I lost control. Once more I couldn't stand it and, although I managed to stay silent I couldn't help but thrash out again with my hands.

"Right, boi, you've had your chance. Now stop squirming and lie still." He grabbed my wrist and held it tight.

I did as I was told.

"You're not doing very well, are you?"

"No, Sir," I admitted.

"So I'm going to have to take steps to keep you still, aren't I?"

"Yes, Sir, I suppose so, Sir."

"You suppose so. Well I damn well know so. Not stop squirming about or I'll really lay into you."

With a sigh Sir put down the paddle and reached for the bag. The next thing I knew was he was fastening some sort of wide leather collar around my neck As he fastened the buckles I could feel something dangling down from the collar on either side of my neck. As soon as he had done up the buckles, he tugged my right arm back into place and I found that what had been dangling from the collar was a leather cuff which he fitted around my wrist. The chain which attached the cuff to the collar was quite short and, once my left wrist was similarly attached, I had one wrist either side of my head and was completely helpless. During all this I had slipped somewhat so Sir rearranged me until I was back in the position he wanted. But this time he didn't hold me with one hand on my back. Rather, with his left hand, he reached between my legs and grasped my balls, holding them not that hard, but firmly enough to show that he wasn't letting go and to make sure I stayed in place. Then he started back on my punishment.

Now that I had my hands chained to my collar he was far firmer than he had been previously. It had hurt before but this time was far, far worse. I thrashed about, I kicked, I screamed, I called him all the names under the sun, I begged, I pleaded, I used all sorts of language but it didn't make the slightest bit of difference. Slowly and steadily the blows rained down on my poor backside. And the more I thrashed about the tighter he held my balls so that, by thrashing about, it was as if he was playing with me. In amongst the pain there was this pleasure. As a counter to the unbearable fire from my buttocks there was the sweet music coming from my still excited prick.

And then it was over. He let go of me and I slid to the floor.

"Get up," he snarled. "On your knees, you know how."

I struggled to my knees and tried to kneel up straight. I was sobbing my guts out and my arse was a ball of fire but that meant nothing to Sir. He sat forward, unclipped the nipple clamps, which was a whole world of hurt in itself, and, after dropping the nipple clamps back in the hold all, reattached the leash to a 'D' ring on my collar. Then he stood up and, with a sharp tug on the leash, headed for the door. I got to my feet and stumbled after him.

We went upstairs and into his opulent bedroom. The main feature was an enormous bed with steel grey satin bedding. He ordered me up onto it, kneeling so as to face the ornate wrought iron headboard. Then he took the pillows and piled them in front of me. He tugged on the leash, pulling me forward so that I flopped over onto the pillows. Then he tied off the leash to the headboard so that I was effectively stuck, bent over with my arse in the air. From underneath the bottom corners of the mattress he pulled out some ankle cuffs. What sort of person has ankle cuffs ready for use tucked under the mattress? I already knew where this was heading and wasn't surprised when they were attached and my ankles were drawn back and apart.

So, there I was, my arse up in the air with my legs wide open. It didn't take much to guess what was coming next.

Now that he had me suitably fastened he opened his bedside drawer and took out a tube of lubricant. Almost immediately I felt a generous dollop of the cool gel being squeezed into my arse crack. Then, placing one hand on my buttock, he used the fingers of the other to push the gel inside me. As he pushed and probed his finger felt enormous and that just worried me further as I already knew the size of the log that lay between his legs. After a while he took his finger out only to replace it with two fingers which he used to push the gel in further and open me up ready for him. Satisfied that I was ready he took a tissue from the box beside the bed and wiped his hands.

"You're a little virgin, aren't you boi?"

"Yes, Sir," I whimpered.

"No one has ever fucked you up the arse?"

"No, Sir, no one."

"Well, you're not going to be a virgin much longer, are you?" He climbed onto the bed between my legs and the next thing I knew I could feel his prick pushing at my bum hole. I was too tight. He wouldn't fit. He pushed harder and still he didn't fit.

"Please, Sir, I'm too tight, Sir. You'll hurt me, Sir."

"Shut up and take what's coming to you," and, with that, he pushed that bit harder, broke through my bum hole, and I could feel the tip of him push inside me. He was enormous and I felt as if I were stretched to the limit. He eased himself back a bit and then pushed some more. This time it was a little easier, if not much. Then, starting with long, slow, strokes he worked back and forth, each time pushing just a little further in. I bit down on the duvet in an effort to stop myself crying out but then, as one last push found him buried to the hilt, I couldn't suppress a massive groan.

"Oh my god, Sir, you're too big, Sir, I can't take it, Sir, please, Sir, please" I whimpered but he took no notice, nor, to tell the truth, did I want him to. It may have hurt but I loved the way he was taking his time. I loved feeling him ease himself all but out of me before that long, slow, plunge back in until he was buried to the hilt. I wanted to be taken, used, I wanted to feel him all the way inside me. I wanted to give myself up to him. My pain was my gift to him, my way of saying I was his and his alone. Again and again he plundered my arse, stretching it wide open as he took his pleasure from my virgin bum hole. The tempo was building and he was thrusting harder. He grabbed my shoulders and pulled himself into me until it felt like he would split me asunder. The long slow strokes had been replaced by shorter harder thrusts, harder, harder, faster, faster until, with a mighty groan, he pulled on my shoulders, forced himself as deep as he could go and, as his hips jerked against my bottom, for the second time that night, I felt him shoot his seed deep into my body.

Maybe half a dozen times I felt his hips thrust into me until, with a massive groan of satisfaction, he collapsed across my back.

For a while he just lay there as he recovered. Then, as his prick started to lose its rigidity, he eased out of me and got off the bed. He undid the ankle cuffs and rolled me off the pile of pillows onto a suitably placed towel so I wouldn't spoil the bedding Then he returned the pillows to the head of the bed before laying down beside me.

"Well, boi, not a virgin any more, are you?"

"No, Sir. Thank you, Sir," I replied. Heaven knows where the 'thank you' had come from but it seemed to fit. My arse was on fire, inside and out, but I felt as if I won through, I had survived.

"And what about this little man?" He reached down and took my prick in his fist. "Now that Sir has had his pleasure is it boi's turn?"

"Please, Sir, yes please."

He began to stroke me up and down and it was the best thing ever. No one had ever touched my prick before and to feel his big strong hand wrapped around me was sheer heaven. I looked across at his strong black body and knew I just wanted to be held by him forever.

"You're mine, boi, aren't you? That skinny white arse of yours is all mine, all mine to do with as I wish, isn't it?" he asked.

"Oh yes Sir. Oh, please Sir," I gasped.

"And you like to feel my big black prick inside you, don't you."

"Oh, yes! It feels so good inside me. I want to be fucked by you forever. Please, Sir, please fuck your boi with your big black prick." I was getting close and Sir could tell. He eased back a bit with his stroking.

"Wait for it, boi, wait for it. You don't come until I let you. Is that understood."

"Yes, Sir, but please, Sir, your boi needs to come so badly. Please let me come, please, please."

He just looked at me and smiled but it wasn't a wicked smile. It was the smile of a Master playing with his boi. And all the while his fist was playing sweet music with my prick.

"Please, Sir, I can't last much longer. Please, Sir, please..."

"OK, boi, come for me. Come for daddy, now!"

And with that my groin erupted. Never before had it felt so good. Never before had I come so strongly. My spunk shot out, great gobs splashing all over my stomach and chest. Some of it even splashed on Sir. His hand pumped away until I was drained, until the last drop had been wrung from me and, together, we collapsed exhausted onto the bed.

And then he kissed me.

I was lost, totally lost. This wonderful man had unlocked my very soul. I never thought that a kiss could be so good, so fine, so wonderful. I just wanted that kiss to last forever.

In the end it was my arms around my neck that got in the way so Sir broke from the kiss, and undid the collar and cuffs, dumping them on the floor before sweeping me back into his arms and, for a while, we just cuddled. There, laid beside him, I had never felt so safe, so at home. I loved the look of my pale white skin against the dark chocolate of his body. I loved the feel of his muscles, his strong chest, his arms, his thighs. I wish I could have stayed here forever but in the end practicalities got the better of us. I was still a sticky mess and needed to get cleaned up. Indeed, quite a bit of my spunk had ended up smeared across Sir's chest as well. I offered to lick it off but, in reality, it needed far more than that and Sir told me it was time to get washed. He took me into his en-suite and I was such a mess he decided we needed a quick shower. Even then I wasn't allowed to touch myself. In the shower he did all the washing and, when we got out, he rubbed me down with a towel. Then he took me back to bed.

As I lay in his arms, drifting off to sleep, I could still feel my battered arse and the stretched feeling where he'd been deep inside me but I didn't mind. In fact I loved it. My only worry was that I was just a notch in his bed post, another virgin boi that he had seduced into submission.

When I woke in the morning I was alone in the bed so I got up to see where he was. I looked about for my clothes but I couldn't find them so I took a towel from the en-suite, wrapped it around my waist, and set off to find Chester. I tracked him down in his home gym where he was pumping iron. No wonder his body was so fit and strong. When he saw me at the door he put down the bar-bells and turned towards me. He was wearing tracksuit bottoms but nothing above the waist. I just loved the way the sweat was trickling down his body and wanted to lick it all off for him. However, what I wanted wasn't important. I was sure that Sir would have had enough of me.

"Please, Sir, I can't find my clothes. I guess it's about time I was making tracks."

"Making tracks, boi? You want to make tracks, boi? Have you had enough of me already?"

"No, Sir!" I was horrified at the thought. "Of course not, Sir."

"So why are you running out on me?"

"Because... because..." How could I explain?

"You're my boi and you ain't going nowhere. And, as for your clothes, you don't need clothes. You get dressed when I tell you to get dressed and, right now, I haven't told you to get dressed. Talking of which, what's that towel doing around your waist. Did I tell my boi he could wear a towel around his waist?"

"No, Sir. I'm sorry, Sir!" I dropped the towel to the floor and stood there naked in front of him. In two strides he came across the room and put his strong arms around my waist. I let my head rest on his shoulder.

"I told you last night, you're my boi now. What are you?"

"I'm your boi, Sir."

"And don't you forget it."

Well, that was five years ago and, now, five years later, I'm still Sir's boi. He looks after me and I look after him. Of course, some of the lads were more than a little uncool when I told them but, fuck 'em, I have to be what I am and what I am is Sir's boi. Anyway, I've lots of new friends now, down at Heaven On Earth and they accept me for what I am. Mum also freaked out a bit when she found out that Sir is black. I think that worried her even more than finding out that I'm gay but when she met him he turned on the charm and now she thinks he's the best thing ever. And then, when my mum met Sir's mum at a family do, well they just clicked and we're all one big happy family nowadays.

But, when it comes down to it, if people freak about us being gay, or him being black and me white, then I've had to learn that it's not what other people think, it's what I think that counts. I love Sir, I love being his boi and, more importantly, he loves me. I'm not quite the wimp I used to be but Sir still finds plenty of reasons to keep me in line, and, if from time to time we play a little rough, well, that's the way we like it.