By Ken Leigh

(International Leatherman.January-February.1997)

I called Serge soon after discovering I was to be in the The City for the weekend. We had not seen each other in some time, and he suggested we meet for dinner. Afterward, he would have some en­tertainment for his “slaveboy.” His voice became deeper over the phone: “I will send you instructions as to what to bring so that you can change at my place. Also, there will be reading for you to dis­cuss with me to put you in the right frame of mind.” As I hung up the phone, I wondered just what I had gotten myself into this time.

I carefully packed what Serge had required: a pair of tight, torn jeans; a chain and leather harness I had purchased from Mr. S; leather biker jacket; boots. I had asked about a T-shirt, and was told I would not need it. I cringed when he said, “It would just be torn off anyway.” My readings dealt with different phases of servitude, sto­ries of being taken by a Master and trained, and many passages from Preston’s Mr. Benson which I think I had memorized. All I could think about on the flight out was that it was going to be an intense evening.

Dinner was wonderful, as we ate in one of The City’s celebrated restaurants. On the drive back to his place, Serge started to ask questions about what I had read, how I felt about being someone’s slaveboy, and being on display. He also asked if I had brought everything I was told. I quietly replied, “Yes, Sir. I know better than to disappoint.” He smiled and brushed his hand up my leg to the crotch.

“Good boy,” he said, squeezing my dick and balls. “You have at least remembered one of your lessons.” I rose up as far as I could in the seat and winced at the sudden pain. “A little sensitive tonight aren’t we? I’ll have to take care of that later.” As we approached the front door, I was reminded of our safe-words and signs. “Once we enter the house, you are my boy and will do as I command.”

“Yes, Sir,” I replied, and bowed my head in respect. Serge took my chin and lifted it to his eyes. “Behave yourself, and you will have a fantasy filled tonight; disobey, and it will be an experience you will not soon forget.” We went up the stairs to his living room where I was told to fix drinks and sit at his feet. The questioning continued about my reading, especially about passages from Mr. Benson, and if I had any health problems. After a while, I was told to get my bag of things for Serge’s inspection. He was pleased and told me to change in a corner of the room while he changed into his leathers.

Because of the tears, I brought a jock to wear under my jeans, and the black material showed through the faded, shredded denim. The chain on the harness was cold as I wrapped and snapped it around my chest. I hissed as the metal touched my back and heard Serge chuckle in the other room. Once on, I looked in the mirror. The leather and metal fit snugly and framed my hairy chest well. I was thankful for all that time in the gym. The jeans could not be any tighter and allow me to move and breathe, but they did frame my legs and butt well, in all immodesty. I was lost in my narcissism when I noticed Serge’s reflection in the mirror. I turned and fell to my knees.

He looked like a Tom of Finland icon. His leather jeans looked like molds as they outlined his thighs and butt — his dick made an impressive mound at his crotch. He was wearing a black T-shirt which somehow stretched over his chest and seemed to outline every muscle. He was wearing a jacket which was loosely zipped at the bottom. A whip hung at his side as did a pair of shiny handcuffs. On his lapel was a pair of evil-looking tit clamps. I dared to look up into his eyes as I touched his leg. “You look wonderful, Sir. Is there anything I can do for you, Sir?” He smiled, looked at his feet and turned them.

“My boots are dusty. Take this cloth, clean them and give them a good bath with your slave-tongue.” I hurriedly crawled over to get the flannel cloth then gently started to clean the Dehners. I folded the cloth over and started to shine them after licking them with my tongue. A sheen appeared, and I crawled back, the sign I was fin­ished. “Good boy, you remember how to please your Master.” After a pause, Serge said, “Stand up, let me see you.” I stood straight, looked Serge in the eyes, and bowed my head. As I did this, Serge was sitting and motioned me to turn around. “You’ve been keeping in shape. Come here.” I walked over to his chair. “What’s this fab­ric?” He noticed the jock and fingered it through the ripped material. “Modesty never became you, but I guess this will be all right for now. Come, kneel beside me. I have something special for you to wear tonight. Close your eyes.” As I knelt and closed my eyes, I heard a clasp and then something cold and heavy on my neck. I heard the clasp again and a lock being put in place and sensed the weight. I was told to open my eyes, and I saw a thick leather collar with spikes in the mirror. The lock was in the back and a ring was in the front. “There is no doubt as to your position tonight, is there?”

“No, Sir, I am your boy, Sir.” I reached up with my hands to touch the points of the collar and was shocked to find out how sharp they were.

“Remember how sharp those points are. If you misbehave to­night, you’ll be wearing those points on the inside along with a couple of other surprises I might have.” The thought of that shocked me. “Yes, Sir, I’ll be good, Sir, I’ll make you proud.”

“Good. Put your hands behind your back.” After doing so, I felt cold metal on my wrists and the setting of the handcuffs. A leash was attached to the collar, and I felt it tug me closer to the chair. “Now that I have your attention, I’ll tell you what is planned for the evening. You are going to be taken to my club and introduced as my slave from out of town. You will do what I say when I say it. Chances are, I will have friends there too. So, you had better not embarrass me.” A tug of the leash almost caused me to lose my balance as I nodded my head. “Afterward, if you do well, we will go for a drink. It could be quite a festive evening for you and something about which you could tell your friends. Just remember your readings and place yourself in what you have read.” As he talked, I looked into the bottomless ice-blue pools of his eyes which were framed by his closely cut black beard and hair which seemed to have the begin­nings of some gray. A look of fiendish mischief flashed on his face before a serious scowl took over which scared me. I wondered if I had not gone too far this time. My apprehension must have been evident as Serge patted my head. “Remember your safeword and sign, but fall into the environment. I will always be within easy distance if you are indisposed.” We left for the club after he un­locked the handcuffs.

On Folsom Street after parking the car, I was led through a dark doorway and was met by a heavily muscled attendant. “Serge,” he said, “you have a new toy with you tonight. How do you keep finding the good ones? He will need to fill out some forms.”

After completing them, I was led to a check room and told to remove my jacket. I might as well have been told to strip; I felt that exposed. I tried to fold my arms over my chest as we walked into the next room, but Serge thrust both tongue and pelvis in me. I could already feel the precum, and he must have also as he felt my jock. “You are excited about all of this, aren’t you? Let me give you a little something to occupy your thoughts.” As he said this, he took the tit clamps from his lapel and somehow set both of them at the same time. I hit my head against the wall and hissed loudly as I tried to shake my torso, the wrong thing to do as the heavy chain pulled each nipple and the teeth seemed to dig in deeper. I regained my balance and slowly opened my eyes.

“Sir, please, please, take them off or lighten them.”

“You know what to say, boy,” was his reply. I bit my lip; I was not giving in this early in the evening and winced as he played with the chain. “You need training. It looks as if you have been screwing off.” He dropped the chain which pulled my nipples downward. The force of the drop caused me to shut my eyes hard, but they were opened by a tug of the leash as we walked into another room.

I could not believe my eyes and ears. Guys in various stages of undress were huddled around others in what could only be called an out-of-control orgy. A tall, slender guy beside me was having his dick and balls serviced by two other men who were on their knees and playing with themselves. Another pair of guys was worshipping his nipples and somehow, a fifth guy was Frenching him as he ran his hands through his blond hair. All were moaning with increased intensity. As Serge started to lead me away, there was a short, sharp cry from a guy being serviced, and it appeared several were cumming at the same time. I was fixated by the scene as Serge pulled hard on my leash.

“Get over here,” he said with notice­able displeasure, “You’ll get yours soon enough.” My dick was leaking precum again into the soggy jock. I was motioned to get on my knees in front of Serge. After doing so, I looked up. “Show your Master how happy you are.” As he said this, my face was dragged to his crotch. Since my hands were cuffed, I had to use my nose to feel his lengthening cock and balls. Once I found the tip, I took my tongue and outlined it back up to his crotch. “Take the zipper with your teeth and open it.” I straightened up so that my teeth could find the clasp. After several tries, I was able to start the zipper’s descent. Once open, I thrust my nose into the musky crotch and tenderly bounced his balls on my tongue. An audible sigh, even in this room, was my sign I was doing well. Serge widened his stance and released his cock and balls from his jeans. They were an artist’s perfection.

Someone immediately knelt down beside me and started toward Serge. However, he was brushed aside as I quickly took my prize. My tongue made its way under the foreskin and started a circular motion around the head. My head’s grip tightened briefly, but Serge’s hands then fell on my shoulders. I looked up briefly and saw his face. I must have pleased him by the look of contentment. I released the cock and began to tongue both balls at one time. As I inched closer, I managed to get both orbs into my mouth and gently pulled on the ballsac. Serge got on the tips of his toes as I played with them in my mouth.

“Where did you learn that boy?” he asked. While in my mouth, I gently rolled one over the other with my tongue, and my nose teased the base of his cock. I popped one and then the other out of my mouth and stepped back for air. Serge took my head and brushed back the hair from my eyes. “You are surprising your Mas­ter tonight. We might have to have a special talk later to find out who has been teaching you!” He must have needed a moment to regain his composure as he pulled me close and massaged my shoulders. He fondled his dick and balls briefly and pulled them; a gentle jerk of the leash told me ‘to get up from the floor. The movement brought my attention back to my tits which swung with the move­ment of the heavy metal chain connecting the clamps. My quick hissing sound did nothing to create any sympathy from Serge. He just led me out of the room and down an even more dimly lit hall.

At the end of the hall, we stopped, and Serge had me face the wall to release the handcuffs. I did not realize how stretched my arms and chest were, but the relief was short-lived as I was turned around and my arms pulled above my head and attached to some­thing. The movement created new waves of pain in my tits as the chain moved. Serge stood closely and motioned with his feet for me to spread my legs. As I did this, the clamps were removed. The rush of blood caused me to try to bring my arms down and draw my legs to my chest as I hissed loudly. Instead, my legs were caught by Serge’s, and I tried to wrap them around his body. At the same time, he thrust his tongue into my mouth as he started to punch his crotch into mine, and my legs tried to crawl farther up toward his waist. I heard his zipper and then felt his cock enter into the ripped crotch of my jeans. His hands were push­ing me even farther against the wall, and his breath was growing shorter and shorter as he pulled one swollen nipple then the other with his teeth. My precum-soaked jock must have felt good — once his cock found the area, he started to thrust viciously be­tween my legs. I continued to suck his tongue further inside me. He suddenly with­drew the tongue and started to bite a line down my neck and shoulder as the piston-like thrusts started again and grew faster and harder. I was hanging by my arms while my legs were fully spread around his waist and feet crossed for support.

I heard a sharp gasp for air and felt teeth where my shoulder and arm joined. I felt wetness on the hairs between my legs and on my jock as Serge came. Serge’s arms enveloped me for support as I started to convulse and shoot my load. The intensity of the release was heightened by Serge’s fon­dling of my poor swollen tits. Breathless, I finally came back to reality, and my legs slid back to the floor as my lifeless body hung by its arms, and I tried to stand. Serge stuffed his still-bloated, stiff cock into his jeans and zipped them. He then took my head into one hand and brushed away the damp hair from my eyes.

“We can be such animals. This place brings out the raw animal in most everyone.” He gently kissed my forehead, nose and lips as I came back to life.

“I am going away for a minute. Behave yourself and don’t at­tract any attention.” A cocky smile came over his lips as he slapped the side of my ass.

“Please, Sir, don’t leave me alone; you said you would not leave me.” I began to shake and uselessly tried to pull my arms from their prison.

“Relax,” he responded. “Nothing will happen to you here. Just behave yourself.” He rubbed the sides of my ass, turned and walked away.

As soon as he left, someone come toward me. The man was a giant, at least from my viewpoint. He was a 6-foot-6 bodybuilder. The dim light caught the oiled curves of his upper arms and wash­board features of his stomach. He was wearing just a shiny leather thong which left nothing to the imagination as it obscenely outlined his oversized cock and balls. He stopped in front of me, and his finger outlined my face. I tried to bow my head and turn away, but his paws grabbed my head and held it. “Please, Sir, my Master placed me here to be alone. I don’t want to get into trouble, Sir, please don’t touch me.” As I was saying this, the man gently massaged my nipple; his other hand gently outlined my lips which started to reach for the fingers to suck them.

“That’s right, little boy, suck them gently — show Daddy how you miss him.” Another finger was placed in my mouth as I closed my eyes and started to pick up the sucking action as his other hand massaged my chest. I knew it was wrong, but I continued.

I opened my eyes to see another man walking toward me. He was wearing just a body harness and a chain jock which was shin­ing even in the dim hall. Both items seemed to be stretched as much as possible to cover his hairy, developed body. “What do we have here? A public toy?” I came to my senses and tried to spit out the fingers to talk.

“Please, please leave. My Master will be back soon. He … he told me to behave myself and be quiet. I … I’m supposed to be alone.” As I was trying to talk, I was also trying to turn away from them, but it was useless. The hairy leather-strapped man reached down to spread my legs and attached them to something on the floor. I could feel cool air rush between my damp crotch, and the scent of cum seemed to fill the air.

The muscleman noticed the odor: “You haven’t been too good a slave, have you? You’ve cum. I bet your Master didn’t even permit you, did he?” Before I could answer, a piece of duct tape came from nowhere and was wrapped across my mouth. I moaned and tried to swing away, but had little movement. The muscleman grabbed me by the hair and said, “Your Master said to be quiet; we’re just trying to help.” The both laughed while their hands kneaded my torso as if it were bread dough. I then started to shake my head and shout through the tape.

“No, no, please don’t, please, please …” My words turned into low moans as both men began to suck and nibble my tits and massage my ass, cock and balls. What movement I had, began to change as I tried to meet their actions, and my dick hardened and tried to get out of its cloth jail. The hairy guy came up to my face.

“This public piece likes attention; let’s give him plenty.” With those words, he fell to his knees, undid my jeans and pulled them and the jock as far down as they could go. My dick popped out of its soaked cage and into his mouth as he began to deep throat me roughly. As he did this, he used his fingers to find my ass and began to massage the moist opening. Gently he inserted one, two and then three fingers. I tried to escape but only ended up flailing around wildly.

“Please, please don’t fist me, Sir. I’ll be good, please,” I begged. As this was going on, the muscleman was straddling the man on his knees and pulling my chest toward him. He slowly licked up from my belly button to my right nipple. At that point he bit the nipple and twisted it gently while his hand worked the other. I was getting into the program and was theirs. I hung by my arms as these two did what they wanted. My breathing started to grow in short spurts, and I felt fingers rubbing my prostate and a mouth trying to suck my foreskin. I opened my eyes to see Serge with his arms crossed and whip in hand. I was too wasted to say anything as the hairy guy withdrew his mouth and started to jack me off with both hands, and the muscleman attacked my chest with his mouth and hands. My body arched as much as it could, and my seed flew across the hall.

I began to swing as much as possible from the wall as rope after rope of cum poured from what felt like my feet. After the sixth or seventh spurt, I collapsed against the wall.I felt like I had run a marathon, I was so out of breath. Serge shouted, “You slut slave, you’ll do it anytime, anywhere, for any­one!” Before I knew what was happening, the two men disappeared. The tape was ripped from my face as I babbled and started to cry. “Please Sir, I … I tried to stop them, honest. It … it wasn’t my fault.” I hung my head and quietly sobbed since I knew what was going to happen. One thing I dared never do was to disobey Serge. He released my ankles, and I quickly brought my sticky, cum-streaked legs together to try to hide my hard cock. He then released my arms, and I fell into a heap on the floor and cowered in the corner. My collar was yanked up, and I scrambled to stand, even with my jeans and jock hobbling any movement. I was told to take them off and face the wall. My body was tightly spread-eagled against the wall, and my collar attached to something so that I could not move my head. Serge pressed himself against me as I could feel his warm leather-clad body against my exposed back. His bearded face brushed against mine as he spoke: “You have disappointed me, boy. I was where I could see you.”

“But Sir, I tried, tried to stop them, but they went on. I was gagged to keep from speaking, Sirrr … please believe me.”

“I believe what I saw. You enjoyed it too much. Now you have to be punished and remember once more whose you are. I’m getting tired of this, you worthless piece of trash. When will it ever end?”

A defeated “Yes, Sir” was all I could mumble.

I felt Serge leave me, and a cold chill ran through me. Then I heard a snap. The next sound was a “swoosh,” and Serge’s sharpest whip landed across my back. I froze in pain as the flogger left my body, only to return with greater force. My body splayed against the wall in a vain attempt to dull the flogger’s force. I bit my lower lip until it was numb and finally cried out: “Sir, please Sir, I tried to be good … I tried to obey you, Sir!” The whip moved to my ass and upper legs, and I tried to widen my stance even and swing in one direction or the other to miss the flogger. However, it was use­less. I finally tilted my head back as far as I could and cried, “Sir, I am yours, only yours, Sir. Your are my Master.” My arms went limp as I collapsed in the chains and sobbed.

Serge released the leg restraints and held me carefully as the arm restraints were removed. I fell onto the floor. He gathered me up and held me close. Soon, he gently nibbled my ear and whispered, “My boy, what am I ever going to do with you?” He took ice from a cup and brushed it against my red, welt-covered back. The cool block felt good. He then took a towel, wiped off my back, and handed it to me to finish. “Get dressed, boy. You’ve had a long night.” As he said this, he held me tight and kissed me gently. He truly was my Master, tonight and always.

We made our way through the maze of hallways and picked up our things. At the door, we stopped to make sure of the direction. I turned to see the two men who used me in the club. They came to Serge, shook hands and laughed. Serge turned to me. “These are two good friends of mine who were in on my plans for you this evening.” They shook hands with me and introduced themselves. “Do you feel like a drink? You’ve earned it, boy.” With that, the four of us turned to go to the bar across the street. Serge was right; the night was a fantasy I would not soon forget.