Chapter Four
For the next three days I would come home from work, make dinner, shave my pubes and arse and get ready for Mick to come home, then we would watch TV, drink a few beers then have rampant dirty sex before falling asleep together. At least once in the night I would be wakened from my sleep by Mick either sticking his cock in my arse or in my mouth. I never complained! By now my arse was opened enough to accommodate him without any pain afterwards, and I realised how much I loved being fucked.
On the Friday night Mick came in from work, threw a bag at me and said, "We're going out." I looked in the bag and saw a white tee-shirt and a pair of red braces. I got ready quickly while Mick showered and when he came out of the shower he looked at me in my bleached Levi's, tee-shirt and boots. "You look good, boy," he said, "Now don't let me down tonight"
He went to his jacket and took something else out and said, "Hold still, I've got you a present" and he fastened a dog's collar around my neck. I lifted my cigarettes, lighter and wallet. "Put that down, you don't need it. I do the buying and paying", he said
We went first of all to the Colherne in Earl's Court. I had heard of it but never been there, but obviously Mick was well known there and several mates spoke to him as we went in. Then I made my big mistake of the night. Mick went to the bar with me behind him, and I said, "I'll have a lager and lime, please". Mick turned and looked at me with such anger I took a step back, terrified, and said "Sir". This obviously didn't pacify him because he grabbed me by the collar and said in a loud voice "You'll have WHAT I say, WHEN I say, you ungrateful shit!" I don't know what frightened me more, the thought that he would hit me in that mood, or that he would tell me to fuck off and not come back. "Do you understand me?" he almost shouted. "Yes, Sir, I muttered, unable to breathe". "Louder, useless fuck" he said. I looked at the people staring and then said in a clear voice, "Yes, SIR, I apologise for stepping out of line, I had no right to speak to you like that, I am truly sorry."
The anger died a bit in his eyes and he turned back to the bar and ordered 2 lagers, No lime. "If you want a poofy drink, drink with poofs,"he said. He walked around the bar talking with several guys and I followed behind, standing about 2 paces back, and he totally ignored me.
Every time he finished his drink he would buy two more whether I was ready for another or not, but still didn't say a word to me. I noticed a big guy in leathers looking at me and quickly looked away, but soon afterwards he came over and said "Hi, there, I haven't seen you here before". Mick turned quickly and said, "Fuck off, Queeny, that belongs to me. The guy backed off and Mick looked into my eyes and said, "Did you encourage him?" but before I could say anything, one of his mates said "It's OK, Mick, I've been keeping an eye on the kid, he didn't do a thing.
At about 10.30, he turned to me as if nothing had happened and said, "Drink up, mate, we're leaving, I feel like doing a club"
We went somewhere in Hampstead, to a private club he belonged to and when he bought some drinks, we sat at a table with three other guys. By now Mick was talking to me as if nothing had happened. A fourth guy joined us and started talking to the company. He looked at me and said, "Who's this? Where did you find him?" "He's nobody special, just a lippy little cunt working off a dept" I felt as if hot knives were being stuck through my heart, was that all I was?
"What you doing with him?" asked the stranger. "I'm teaching him to be a good ride", said Mick. "Any good?" the man asked? "Oh. Yes" said Mick, "He's a right little slapper, can't get enough" "A good cocksucker?" "Yes, want to try it?" "I wouldn't mind."
Mick turned to me and looked into my eyes with coldness I hadn't seen before and said, "My friend wants his cock sucked". The guy grinned at me and opened his trousers and pulled out a dick even thicker than Mick's, although not quite as long. I looked at Mick and he nodded. I went down on my knees in front of the guy and leaned forward. I don't know whether I was trying to impress the guy or Mick, or trying to prove something to myself, but I took his head in my mouth and slid my lips right down his length until I had taken the lot first time. It nearly choked me, but I held it until my throat adjusted, then I slid back and started to work it with my tongue, playing with the head sliding up and down the shaft. The guy leaned back and moaned. "Fuck, he is good", he said, I might even try his arse." "No you won't," said Mick, "That's mine." He pulled my waist until my legs straightened and opened my jeans, pulling them to my knees. He took out his dick, wiped the precum away with his hankie so that it was dry then thrust himself into my arse.
He took up the rhythm of my cock feeder so that they were both thrusting into me at the same time. It didn't take long before they were both shooting into me. The stranger sort of pushed me away, but Mick grabbed me, turned me round and gave me a kiss of such passion that my knees literally buckled and he had to hold me up.
Hw sat down and pulled me on to his knee and said to the others present, "This is the greatest little fucker I have ever met in my life. He slipped up earlier and made a bad mistake, but he has just proved to me that he is willing to do as I tell him without question, not something you find easily nowadays" He looked into my eyes and I felt as if I would cry, but he leaned over and whispered in my ear "If you show me up by crying like a girl, you're walking home." Several other guys asked Mick if they could use me, but he turned everybody away.
A young guy working behind the bar started to flirt with Mick, I was really angry, but I knew it wasn't my place to say anything, if Mick wanted to have him, there was nothing I could do about it. It was soon obvious, though, that Mick wasn't interested, so he flirted with several others until he was playing three guys against each other. Mick whispered in my ear that he was playing with fire and would get more than he bargained for, and sure enough, the guys soon got fed up with his teasing.
Two of them grabbed him while the other pulled his trousers to his ankles and ripped the shirt off his back, then they spread him over a barstool.
Two held him while the third took his belt from his trousers and wrapped it twice around his hand. He dangled it in front of the boy's eyes for a moment to let him see what was to happen to him then he brought it down with a loud crack against his bare arse. The boy screamed and struggled. The guy with the belt put one foot on the boy's trousers to keep his legs still and said, "Somebody shut the fucker up."
One of the others pulled out his dick and rammed it roughly down the boy's throat. The guy with the belt hit him again, swinging wider and hitting him lower. He hit him about eight or nine times spreading his aim until the boys arse was really red all over.
I was still sitting on Mick's knee and I was very scared in case the boy was seriously hurt and raped, although I was kind of turned on at the same time. Mick, seeing my face, leaned over and said "It's OK, he knew what he was doing before he started, he is up for it." The guy with the belt opened his trousers while his mate was still ploughing into the boy's mouth. Meantime, the third had reached under and was pulling violently on the boy's cock and balls. The first guy pulled on his hard dick a few times then thrust it right into the boy's arse. By this time he had stopped struggling and was trying to suck on the cock in his mouth. The guy in his arse didn't take long before he shot his load and he pulled back. Immediately, the guy pulling the boy's dick stopped, moved round and started to fuck him. Suddenly the guy stuffing his mouth let out a moan and started to shoot, the boy gobbling madly to catch the load, but some leaked out of his mouth and ran down his chin. The guy fucking, seeing this, came right away. The senior barman, who had been standing watching and wanking said, "Hold the fucker, I want some of that too", and stuck his cock into the now wide-open hole. Someone else stuck his dick in his mouth and he clamped down on it like it was oxygen. By now men were taking turns to fuck him, some pulling out before they came to give others a turn and just wanking themselves over his back, his head, his legs. By the time we left a few of the guys had taken a second go, spunk was oozing from his arse and running down his legs, and other loads were drying onto his skin and hair.
When we got home, I knew I needed to shower before I could go to Mick but when I had washed and was drying myself I caught sight of my arse in the mirror. A shiver of fear ran through my body: the signature was wearing away.
Chapter Five
I realised that my time was limited, so I swore there and then never to wash that bit of my arse until I had to leave. I had been with Mick for slightly less than a week, I was going back home in a month, I was determined that I would make this last as long as possible.
I dried myself and went through to the bedroom. Mick was already in bed playing with his dick. I climbed in beside him and we kissed for a while before he turned me over and fingered me. I think he was still turned on by what we had seen earlier, because he slapped my arse a few times, hard enough to make it bright red, before giving me a long hard fuck that brought me off twice before we fell asleep.
Since the next day was Saturday and we were both off work, we played a lot during the night too, but I still remembered to get up early enough to get the boots shining and waiting for his inspection before I took him a cup of tea in bed. Saturday night he took me to a club called "The A & B" where we had a few drinks before going on to a club in Victoria called "The Cabal" where we danced together for several hours before walking home. We saw three or four guys standing at a corner and Mick must have realised I was a bit apprehensive, he put the rings on his right hand and with his left hand he gripped my hand and we walked right through them.
Strangely, his courage sort of rubbed off and I knew if anything started I would be ready to do my bit. Mick stared each of them down and they backed off. Once we were past them I felt a slight anti-climax, as if I had really wanted to fight, to prove myself again to Mick. When we got home, I almost raped him; He lay back on the bed and I threw myself on top of him, rubbing our dicks together. I sat up and straddled him and, taking his dick in my hand, I raised myself up until he was at my arse, then I pushed myself down on him as hard as I could. I rocked, wriggled jerked and thrust, Mick just sort of let it happen to him. I was shooting my load over him when he finally let go and gave me my reward, filling my arse with his juice. When I stopped moving, he gently raised me up and turned me round so he could see my arse. He licked and kissed me, sucking his cum out of me before grabbing me and sharing it with me.
Over the next week or so, we settled into a happy routine, almost as if we had been together for years. By now I was sporting a No.1 cut which Mick cut every second night when he was doing his own. We were both happy to stay home most nights talking, having a beer or something. I had discovered early on that Mick was a really interesting intelligent guy and we had some great conversations. He taught me about sex, explaining S&M, bondage, domination and servitude among other things, but we also discussed music, politics and other matters. It sounds as if we settled into a rut, but it was always exciting, each night brought something and I hurried home every night. Sometimes I got things wrong, like the time I pressed his jeans with a crease, that got me a few slaps, but even those things made me happy. Every day I examined my arse to make sure the signature was still visible, but it was fading fast. I had considered trying to go over it to with a pen, but I realised even I couldn't forge someone else's signature on my own arse reflected in a mirror. I finally started to just touch individual bits making a dot; I figured if one bit of ink could be seen, my bonded servitude was still valid.
One night Mick came home and I could tell he was not in a good mood. At such times I never knew whether it was my place to ask what the matter was, I was concerned and wanted to help but I knew that he could easily tell me to fuck off and mind my own business. I knew it was bad when, instead of opening a beer he took a bottle of vodka from the cupboard and took a long drink from the bottle. He took a second drink then looked at it as if he might take another, but seemed to think better of it and put it back.
He grabbed me and kissed me; one of the cold sex-kisses then pushed me away. He saw the hurt in my eyes and he grabbed my hand, and said, "I'm sorry, it's not your fault, I caught one of my colleagues stealing today and I had to report him. He was sacked immediately. He has two kids, I feel like shit but I had no choice". He hardly touched his dinner, dragged me to bed early and we had really cold disinterested sex. Suddenly he grabbed my face and said, "Fuck me". I didn't know what to say, but I knew it wasn't a request, it was an order. He opened his legs and I started to wet his arse. "No. Dry" he said. I pushed my dick into him and it was obvious that I was the first in a long time. I started to fuck him but he kept saying, "Faster, harder, hurt me." I climaxed, but it was joyless, I just held him in my arms for the longest time.
The next day things were back to normal and we went out to celebrate. Mick took me for a meal, which caused a few raised eyebrows. There was no such thing as a gay restaurant in those days, so we found a quiet little place off Greek Street. Mick made it very obvious that we were "Queer", and an item, lighting my cigarette, pouring my wine, and wiping some sauce from my chin with his napkin. When the waiter told him that people were complaining, he "Threw a fit" in a loud camp voice. I just fell across the table laughing. He informed the waiter that if we weren't welcome, we would leave, but he had no intention of paying our bill if we had to go. The waiter conferred with the manager who came over immediately. He wasn't at all happy, but when Mick whispered to him that if he didn't agree, Mick would make sure that at least six of his friends came in every night for a week, and if they weren't served, there was a grave danger of his windows being "given the treatment", the manager quickly agreed that we shouldn't really have to pay since we hadn't finished our meal.
We went on to a pub in Notting Hill called "The Chepstow" then Mick told me he was taking me "Up the heath." We went to Hampstead and Mick led me though the trees. He stopped and fixed a dog leash to my collar and led me further onto the heath. We stopped at a bench and Mick sat down, I went to sit beside him, but he tied me to the side of the bench so that I had to kneel beside him. Another guy came along and sat down talking to Mick, and clapping me on the head. He started to talk about me as if I weren't there discussing my training etc. Mick explained his methods as if I was a dog and he was my trainer. Mick told the guy his name and the guy introduced himself as Matt asking, "What's it's name?" Mick told him to call me "Boy" "Does it do tricks?" Matt asked. Mick looked me in the eye and this time there was warmth and kindness. This time he was giving me a chance to back off, I nodded slightly and he said to Matt, "Go ahead, play with the boy, but don't take him away.
Matt pulled me to my feet and grabbed me to him. He dropped my trousers, turned me round and fucked me, Mick sat watching proudly as I serviced Matt bringing him to a fast conclusion. Mick took hold of the lead and led me away. We came across two guys, one fucking the other against a tree. Mick led me over and bent me forward so that I was able to lick the arse of the guy doing the fucking. This caused the guy to shoot, and when he drew back, I was pushed forward to suck on the arse of the guy who was fucked.
We were in the heath until 4am during which time I was fucked 3 times, sucked 5 men off and got sucked off twice. I saw a guy tied to a tree being whipped, someone else tied to a bench with his legs open taking all comers and guy being strangled until he shot his load. I saw many watchers including a couple of women and I had the time of my life, I felt as if I had found my true vocation in life, I was going to be a slut.
We went home eventually and I undressed and aimed for the bathroom, but Mick grabbed me and pulled me back. "I'm all sweaty and dirty, sir, and my arse is still full of spunk", I said. "I know", he said, "And I want you that way." He bent me over the back of an easy chair and fucked me hard and slow. I had already come twice, so I was a bit shot out, but he waited and waited until I was ready. When I finally reached the top of the ladder he let go. He had held back all night while watching me being serviced, and when he climaxed it went on and on. I don't know whether it was because of the spunk already in me but I felt his warm juice running down both my legs. He then picked me up in his arms and carried me to bed, saying, "I'm proud of you" That was all, but it was enough.
Chapter Six
Before we knew it, it was my last week. I really had to return home, my future depended on it, although at times I felt as if my future lay under Mick's control. By now, the mark on my arse was a faint smudge and I had given up trying to enhance it, I no longer needed it to feel where my duty lay. Each night our lovemaking became more frantic. On Wednesday we were fucking for the fourth time that night when I looked at him and spoke. "Sir, in 5 weeks I have never asked for anything, I have accepted what you offered and loved every second, but now I want to ask for one thing."
Go ahead", he said, "I'm listening"
"I've watched you whenever you saw anyone being beaten or whipped, and I know it does something for you, whip me, please Sir". Mick held my face in his hands and looked at me "Are you sure you want this? It's going to hurt like fuck". "I know Sir, and I want it, really."
"Do you want tied down and gagged to make it easier?" he asked. "No Sir, I want to try to stand it if I can" "OK, but if you tell me to stop I will"
He put two pillows across the middle of the bed and put me across them so that my arse was well raised. I waited while he got a belt, which he doubled into his hand. "Are you sure about this?" he asked. "Yes Sir, I'm sure and I'm ready". Before I had time to change my mind I felt what was undoubtedly the worst pain I had ever felt as he brought the belt down across my arse with a quick swing. I bit onto the pillow under my face but a loud groan still escaped my mouth. Again he hit me and my back arched in a spasm before I could lie flat and grit my teeth.
Five, six, seven times he hit me, by now he was waiting after each lash giving me the chance to call quits, but a strange thing was happening. My arse was burning, my flesh was aflame but I was starting to like it. Each crack of the belt seemed to send the heat straight through my arse and into my cock. Now instead of stifling a scream I was moaning and grinding my dick into the pillows. Mick saw what was happening and he pulled me half off the bed so that my arse was draped over the edge. He took his dick out and buried it into my red burning hole. As he fucked me he started whipping my back, not as hard as he hit my arse but enough to hurt and sting. My body was bucking and shaking, I had lost all control and never wanted to stop. When we both came that night I thought I would never calm down, Mick had to hold me while I came back to reality. Later Mick stood me up and turned me to the mirror so I could see my back and arse, I couldn't believe the state of my body, I couldn't even remember being hit that much. My arse was a solid red mess, with a few tinges where blood was beginning to show and my back was criss-crossed with welts. I lay on my face all night unable to sleep, not from the pain but from the strange feeling of euphoria that enveloped my body.
The next day, my last day at work was a daze of goodbyes. I was invited to go for a drink at lunchtime with the people I had worked with. I made an excuse and said I needed to check something first. I rang the number Mick had given me in case of an emergency: He asked what was wrong and I explained that I had been invited for a drink and asked his permission to go. I hadn't been out with anyone but him for the duration of my service and I didn't want to do it without his say so. He gave me his blessing and told me to enjoy myself, but to meet him at Berwick Street after work. I had a few drinks then went back to the office and cleared up. I left early and went to Charing Cross Road, which had loads of bookshops. Mick was a keen reader of history, particularly 19th century political stuff. I managed to find a rare first edition of a book he had read but didn't own. It cost a fortune, but since I had spent nothing on food or drink for five weeks I could easily afford it.
We met at 5.30 and he took me to a tattooist working in a small back room of a barbers shop. The tattooist was a friend if Mick's and when Mick explained what he wanted I was told to drop my trousers. Jake, the tatooist whistled when he saw the state of my arse, still scarred and red from my whipping. Mick looked over and said proudly, "His first time and he never said a word". Jake whistled again and caressed my cheeks. Mick produced a drawing he had made of a small monogrammed "M" and it was engraved on my right buttock. The signature had disappeared totally, but now I was marked for life as belonging to Mick.
We went back to the flat and Mick cooked a meal, the first since I arrived and we ate quietly drinking a good bottle of wine. I gave him the book and he was quite speechless. We went through to the bedroom early and although we should have gone at it at it like cats in a bag, we both held each other slowly touching, stroking caressing. Mick raised my legs and gently entered my body. He took it long and slow and every now and then he would stop and withdraw then start again. We fucked like that for over an hour, trying to make each minute last for two. When we climaxed it was all to do with love, nothing to do with sex.
We cuddled together for the last time that night because I had to catch my train the next morning. At 8am I got out of bed; Mick grabbed my hand and told me to come back as I had plenty of time before I had to leave, but I explained that I still had all my chores to do before I left. I cleaned the house, washed all the dishes and then I polished Mick's boots. There were as many tears on the boots as there was spit but I got them gleaming. Mick came through as I packed my stuff, including the clothes that Mick had refused to let me wear. I never wore them again.
Mick put his arms around me but as he unclenched he removed my collar, I felt so naked I shivered, but he replaced it with a fine gold chain which I have worn ever since. I turned away in case I made a fool of myself but when I looked back Mick had turned away too. I grabbed my stuff and practically fled from the flat, I couldn't take any more. I got to Euston station and caught my train but my heart was still in London.
Epilogue
We stayed in close touch with each other and over the years we saw a great deal of each other. My career blossomed and I was very successful, eventually going into politics. I was never a skinhead, but I always polished my boots and cropped my hair before visiting Mick. He also developed his career and became quite well known in banking and business so he had to modify his life style slightly but whenever we got together the years just rolled back and we were two young guys rutting like rabbits. I had other lovers over the years, but no one else ever whipped me, I would never allow any man to treat me the way Mick did. What he did with others when I wasn't there I have no idea, I had no desire to know and if I had asked I might well have got a slap or worse.
Any time I visited him I polished his boots, something any newspaper would have paid a fortune for a picture of.
Nine years ago Mick died of a heart attack and I arranged his funeral. That did make the papers, but no one thought too much about a politician attending the funeral of a major figure in banking. They didn't know it was me who sent the wreath with the card that said "To Sir"