Learning Humility: First Cycle

Note: This is the fist of a series of stories detailing the many erotic aspects of gay male bondage. Subsequent stories may include extreme buttplay, watersports and fantasies of rape. If you find such themes offensive, please do not read the Second, Third and Fourth Cycles which are forthcoming.

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The empty loft was dark and cold. I was kneeling in the middle of the room, naked and shivering. Gritting my teeth against the cold. Telling myself, over and over, I am shit. I am nothing.

The silken bondage-chords were wound tight enough to restrict my movements, but not so tight until it hurt. Even now, minutes before my punishment, Jeff, my lover, my Lord and Master, was kind to me, his unworthy slave. I did something wrong, and I needed to be punished. I must be punished, even if it was only because Jeff, my Master, said so. I bit my lips as he tied me, gently. Whispering. Smiling. Once I was all bound up, he gently stroked my face, his expression full of love. Suddenly I felt sick with self-hate. How could I do anything to cross him? I begged him to whip me right away. I begged him, please, Jeff, Master. But he, as always, smiled gently, as if saying how could I hurt you? He gave me a quick, tender kiss, before gently gagging my mouth with my used briefs. Wait for me his smile said, and he walked into the adjoining room.

Jeff. Just the name was enough to make me yearn for the cane. I love you, Master, I would say, even if he lashed me until it drew blood. Even now, gagged and tied, I wanted so desperately to suck his beautiful cock, to look at his hairy chest and kind, beautiful blue eyes, or even to drink his piss, anything, if it means being close to him. I was his, body and soul – I belonged to him. He was a strict lover, but I thought also of the many times he let me suck him, and the hot, smooth fucking he'd give me, it made everything worth it. I tried to clear my head, but my feelings for Jeff, my Lord and Master, were too powerful. My cock was rock hard, but I couldn't touch it. I was afraid of the beating, of the cane – but I craved it, too. I craved it because the pain would show him how much I loved him. I thought of the time he mercilessly spanked my ass, while gently ordering me to blow him. The pain was unbearable, but all the while I kept sucking his cock. And all the while, he slapped my reddening ass cheeks until I almost passed out. Slap slap slap, his big, powerful hands on my tender skin. After the spanking, 60 strokes in all, he laid me gently on his bed, and tenderly fucked me. It was at that point I became his.

Just then he emerged from the adjoining room. Wearing nothing but leather boots, a harness, and a cock ring. That was it – even with my hands tied around my back, I came. My cum made a small puddle on the wooden floorboards. Then I began to cry, in frustration, in humiliation, in fear.

My master came to me, and stooped low. I instinctively lowered my gaze. I knew I must apologize for such a huge transgression. I knew I had to be punished for it. I tried, but couldn't avoid looking at my master's cock. Although not fully erect, my master's beautiful cock looked angry and powerful in the cock ring attached to his leather harness. Perhaps even a reflection of his character. He reached over and caressed my whimpering face, his expression full of love. His deep, kind eyes told me everything without saying a word: you know you aren't supposed to cum without my permission, my love. You know the consequences of that. I love you, you know that. He stroked my face like a lover does, and kissed me even as my cheeks became wet tears. Kissed me long and slow, gently, almost reassuringly. Then he looked at me and smiled. I moaned and shook my head.

"No, please...." I said.

He ignored me. Slowly, he got up, and went to the small table in the corner. Although out of my view, I knew what objects lay on that table. They were the tools of my education. A large nine inch dildo was there. And a cane. And a riding crop. And a paddle. My master selected two, and slowly advanced towards me again.

I was quivering. Both in fear of what was about to happen, and in anticipation of it. In his hands, he carried the dildo and the riding crop, his favorites. Suddenly, his expression shifted. His warm, kind eyes became steely and fierce. His smile had curled into a wicked leer. There was no turning back.

Before I could think of anything more, he slapped me so hard I fell over. The sting on my right cheek brought both pain and fresh tears. I could hear his soft chuckle. Roughly, he pulled me back to my knees by my hair and, even more roughly than the first time, slapped my left cheek. His huge palm packed such force that the sound of the slap reverberated throughout the empty loft like an echo. He slapped me twenty times in quick succession, left...right...left...right, grunting with the effort. When he was done, I could taste blood in my mouth.

The horror of that had barely registered when the first sting of the riding crop lashed my naked left thigh. I yelped and flinched, earning two more in the same spot. He lashed my pectorals, my biceps and that sensitive area between the neck and collar bone. His cock was rock hard as he administered the beating, and, despite my excruciating pain, still felt aroused by it. Again and again, with increasing speed and force, he lashed my back, my arms and my thighs. His expression was of the most carnal delight. His cruel smile grew wider and wider with each lash. His fully erect cock rose magnificently hard from between his legs and it bobbed up and down each time he moved. The pain from the lashings was unbearable, but they were my master's pleasure, and thus, however abstrusely, my pleasure as well.

When he felt I had endured enough beating, he threw me over and roughly nudged my legs apart with his knee. He then very quickly rammed the nine inch dildo up into my asshole as hard as he could. I couldn't help it: I screamed. He didn't use one drop of lube. Even before the initial shock and pain subsided, he began to quickly jam it in and out of my hole. Even when the dildo was buried to the very tip of its artificial balls, he still continued pressing it in, as if wanting the balls to fit in as well. Relentlessly, heedless of my whimpers, he fucked me with the toy, and when he pulled it out completely, I could feel some strange, warm liquid dribble out of my asshole. He softly growled in satisfaction.

Once more, he flipped me over and made me resume my kneeling position. He lifted my chin up and slapped me a few more times, before asking me to "Open up", and sliding his enormous cock into my mouth. He violently mouthfucked me so deep my teeth struck against the metal studs on his cock ring.

"Yeah take it in your mouth. You know you love it" he whispered.

Often he'd suddenly withdraw his cock to playfully fuck my nostrils, my ears or even poke my eyes with it, laughing heartily. His cock was so hard he could slap my face with it without using his hands. Finally, he thrust into my mouth again and fucked it until he came, holding my head still to make sure every drop of his cum went down my throat.

He jerked my chin up. "Who owns you?" he whispered to me.

"You own me, Master Jeff". I replied.

"You belong to me. You said it yourself" he said. And with that, he unbound me, and walked away.

Yes, I belonged to him. Even as his cum and the bloody scars dry on my body, they only harden my conviction that love is cruel, it is painful, and it is earned. Yes, he has broken my spirit completely, but my spirit is his to break. Just as my ass is his alone to fuck, my mouth his alone to enjoy, and my body – his alone to punish. I love you, Master.