Kinky Enough For You?

I've been chatting to a couple of guys recently who have made me aware of a problem that some subs face. They see endless profiles of slaves with long shopping lists of kinks, fetishes and desires and it makes them feel inadequate because, by comparison, their own lists are much shorter.

I must admit I've had similar concerns myself. Do I have enough kinkiness to attract the übersub of my dreams? For example, I like to push pain buttons but only if the sub enjoys it on some level. Does that mean I'm not really a sadist? Maybe I should be more into thrashing the bejasus out of guys, or masochistic subs will think I'm boring, too vanilla. Or, no, maybe I should be just as sadistic or non-sadistic as I want, otherwise I'm being Topped from the bottom, and not let myself be manipulated by insecurities...

The rational part of me is right, I think. It's quality, not quantity, that counts. I know I get bored reading someone's profile and ploughing through an interminable generic list of kinks, sometimes containing repetitions and redundancies (BDSM, SM, bondage, CP, bondage, S&M, being tied up...)

It doesn't matter how many things you are into, or how extreme. Maybe you like a little bit of bondage, just silk scarves to spread eagle you to your four-poster bed while your beloved tickles your erogenous zones with a feather duster. Or maybe you want to be mummified in industrial-grade rubber and hung upside-down over a vat of piss with vibrating electrodes channelling the National Grid into your lower digestive tract? Either way, you're a kinkster.

Let's have none of this kinkier-than-thou nonsense. We get enough hassle from conservative vanilla folk without needing to endure bigotry from each other.

I have no trouble with the fact that the list of things I am not into is much longer than the list of things that I do like. I'd much rather do a few things well, or very well, than a lot of things adequately. The shopping-list-as-long-as-your-arm approach always makes me wonder how serious the guy is. Am I seeing a genuinely broad palate of taste and experience here, or is it an attempt to impress by ticking boxes? It strikes me as a rather one-dimensional approach.

I'd rather be - and rather play with - someone who has a finite number of interests that they enjoy and devote their time and energy to. Variety is good but I think there is a limit.

I remember once going to a club with two subs. We got chatting to a Master who had his slave in tow. Upon discovering that I didn't piss on my boys, the Master suggested we all get together and play, and that he could help me with my subs by "expanding their limits."

Hmm, I thought. I'm not sure I want their limits expanded. At least, not in that direction, one that doesn't interest me. And certainly not by someone else!

There are, unfortunately, lots of ways that BDSM folk judge each other. Some hardcore D/s types will sneer at casual roleplayers. Some chilled roleplayers will take the piss out of pompous D/s types. Switches will call non-switches dull and predictable. Non-switches will call switches wishy-washy and indecisive. Pain pigs will look down on the less masochistic. Gearheads will turn their nose up at you if you don't have fifteen metric tons of toys including a cage, a vac-rack and a St Andrew's Cross (even if you do live with your parents). Some Tom of Finland-esque Übermensch will not deign to scrape you off the sole of his very large, very shiny boot if you're a kinky vegan.

Diversity is what makes BDSM a many-splendoured thing, but it can also cause problems. With so much variety it is sometimes difficult to step back and see the big picture... because it is SO big!

Just work out what makes you happy and find others who like the same things. Don't worry about comparing yourself to others, unless they are people you personally know and respect. Do what you love and work at doing it well.

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The Baron's Stable - Part 11

The trespasser was led to a clearing in the trees and up to a large sturdy oak. Roy ordered him to strip and he did as he was told. Philip was very lean and pale, looking very vulnerable as he shed his clothes.

Roy tied the boy's wrists together in front of him. Philip's eyes were wide, taking everything in, not knowing what was coming next. There was a lot of rope left once his hands were bound, and Roy threw the rest of it up and over one of the branches of the oak tree. He pulled it until Philip was almost on his tip-toes, gasping as his arms were roughly yanked up above his head. Roy fixed the rope in place by tying it to the base of a nearby bush.

Mick watched in fascination as Roy went to work setting up the scene. He picked up Philip's trainers and removed the laces. He then found a slim fallen branch lying on the ground and used the laces to tie it to the boy's ankles, forcing his legs apart. Mick couldn't help notice that Philip was getting aroused despite the fear on his face.

Next Roy took off his own boots and tied the laces around Philip's balls so that they hung from his sac, a few inches off the ground. Philip grimaced as his balls were yanked downwards by the weight of the heavy steel toe cap boots, the stretched sac bulging and red.

The guard looked around the ground and started to pick up small stones that littered the floor of the clearing. When he had a large handful he dropped them into the dangling boots, increasing the weight. Philip started to moan with pain.

Roy started gathering more stones and Mick helped him. As the load on the boy's balls increased his face screwed up in pain and sweat broke out on his pale chest. Roy chuckled, gently kicking the boots so that they swung back and forth, making Philip yelp with pain. He then took a step back, admiring his handiwork before smiling at Mick and saying “Now let's make it really interesting!”

He picked up Philip's rucksack and placed it underneath the dangling boots, relieving the pressure on the boy's balls. Philip gasped and started to breathe normally again. Roy then moved the rucksack back a few inches so that it was behind Philip, the laces taut but not tight. “You'll be OK if you can keep still,” he said to his victim, “but if you move forward you'll pull the boots off their little rise here...”

He then stood in front of Philip and unbuckled his belt. It was thick, black leather. Philip watched, his eyes frozen, his cock still hard. Roy let the belt dangle from his hand and then walked around behind the boy.

Mick joined him. Philip's body looked good from behind, his back arched, his slim butt tensed. Roy reached out and caressed the small, firm buttocks. Philip wriggled a little but said nothing. Then Roy suddenly spanked him hard and Philip cried out, jerking forward, pulling the boots off the rucksack so that they swung free, yanking down painfully on his balls. His first cry was followed immediately by a second, louder cry which dissolved into gasps and groans as the boots swung between his legs.

They watched him for a couple of seconds as he writhed and wailed, begging Roy to stop the pain. The guard laughed, reaching down and taking hold of the boot laces and lifting them up. Philip took in deep breaths as the pain subsided. “I told you, boy, all you have to do is keep still!” He replaced the boots back in position and walked round behind Philip again. This time he stood a few feet away and let the length of his belt hang from his hand.

The blows were light to begin with. Roy was skilful in using his belt as a whip, laying down glancing touches across the boy's cheeks. Gradually the intensity increased and Mick heard the leather smack the skin a little louder each time. Philip began a low wailing as the stinging belt landed again and again on his ass, the pain growing a little bit stronger with each stripe. His body arched, his pelvis pointing forward, his still erect prick stabbing the air in little nudges as he pulled away from the blows.

Mick watched the lad's face. He was fighting an internal battle, not wanting to pull away too far in case he subjected his balls to more torture, holding his ass where the strikes of increasing pain would find it. His face showed a mixture of confusion and effort alongside the hurt.

Roy wielded his belt with greater force, the smacking sound louder and louder. The clenched buttocks were glowing red from the abuse and still the punishment continued. Finally, with a strangled scream, Philip could take it no longer and lurched forward away from the belt. His cry of pain was continuous as the boots swung free once more, stretching his balls with cruel force.

The guards laughed and watched him thrash around for a few long seconds. Then Roy lifted the boots again and pulled the rucksack forward so that this time it was in front of Philip. He placed the boots back on them, the laces now pulling the boy's balls out and away from his body.

“Enjoying the show?” Roy asked Mick, replacing his belt back in its loops.

“Well, this isn't quite what I was expecting...”

The other guard laughed and took a swig from his water bottle, then passed it to Mick. They stood for a few minutes watching Philip, his body covered in a sheen of sweat as he gulped in air, his breathing slowly returning to normal. Mick stepped forward and laid his palm on the boy's flat, smooth chest. He felt hot skin and a rapid heartbeat. He looked up at the boy's face and saw the fear in his eyes. He looked down and saw the throbbing erection and stretched balls. Reaching round, he cupped one of the bright red buttocks. It was hot as fever.

Roy was moving around in the background. Mick looked over his shoulder and saw the other man smile as he took out a knife.

Philip's breathing became rapid again, fresh terror in his eyes. “No! No!”

“Relax, boy, I'm not gonna cut you.” Roy reached down and picked up a slim fallen branch, about fifteen inches long. With his knife he cut off the twigs and leaves until he had a long thin cane about the width of a pencil. He reached forward with it, stroking it up the shaft of Philip's cock. Mick took a few steps back.

Once again, he started off slow and gentle, whipping the hard prick with glancing taps. Mick thought the sensation might even be pleasant; Philip's moans could have been enjoyment. But gradually the force of the impacts increased and he began to grunt through gritted teeth. Roy struck both sides of the shaft, then the balls, then nearer the head, never too strong, just enough to keep up a slowly building wave of pain in the boy's exposed genitals.

Soon Mick saw the same struggle in the boy's face as he was torn by indecision, fighting not to pull away from the cane, knowing that he would lose the battle despite himself. Tears ran down his cheeks as he gasped and wriggled. Roy kept up the pressure of the strokes, the cane swishing through the air as he drew it left and right, smacking the boy's prick with little thwacking noises.

Finally Philip lost the battle, unable to hold position, and pulled away from the pain in his tortured cock, pulling the boots off so that they fell and swung, making him cry out once more, his body jerking and his hands clasping uselessly at the air.

Again Roy watched with amusement for a while before putting the boots back in place. He repeated the procedure until the boy failed again, shrieking this time as his testicles were cruelly wrenched down. When Roy walked up to him and lifted the boots up to relieve the pressure, Philip was almost blubbering. Roy stroked the boy's face, wiping his tears away and kissing him on the lips.

“I think maybe you've learned your lesson now, haven't you, boy?”

“Y – Yes, yes, I have...” Philip stuttered, just short of sobbing.

Roy untied the bootlaces from Philip's balls and let the boots fall to the ground. He then walked over to the bush where he had secured the rope and untied it. Philip slumped to the ground, his body limp and trembling. Roy returned, taking the free end of the rope and tying it around the branch between Philip's ankles. Pulling the boy up into a sitting position, he pushed Philip's head back and stood close to his face. “I suppose you'd like me to let you go now?”

“Please. Yes. Please.”

“Well maybe you need to convince me that you've changed your attitude. Open your mouth.”

Eagerly, the boy opened wide as Roy unbuttoned his fly. A thick, heavy-looking cock was exposed. Mick noticed that it was not hard. He worked out what this meant a fraction of a second before he was proved right.

Roy pissed directly into Philip's mouth. The boy coughed, spluttered and shook his head, but could not avoid the hot stream that washed over him. Roy laughed as he hosed him down.

“This is how we deal with trespassers. Don't forget it!”

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The Baron's Stable - Part 10

The Baron and Lady ate their meal, continuing with their banter and laughter. Every now and then she would look over at Steve and smile with an evil glint in her eye. Steve was in a trance, his eyes staring unfocussed into the crowd, his mind wandering, or maybe racing. Every now and then he would look at the Lady and her whip, then at Jamie. He seemed to be tortured by the anticipation.

Jamie couldn't take his eyes off Steve. He was like a little bunny rabbit caught in the headlights of a speeding lorry. Mick wished he could read minds, though he was getting a good idea of what they were all thinking by their body language.

The Baron was also taking this all in, and smiled mysteriously. Mick thought to himself that working for this man was certainly a very unique experience.

Had it been a month already? Time had moved so quickly since the Baron had taken him on...

A clear, bright summer morning, full of promise...

Bombing down the M11 on his GSXR, turning off onto obscure country roads, a strange sense of adventure filling him like golden sunshine in his blood...

Seeing the Baron's estate come into view, he suddenly felt butterflies in his stomach. He had only vague ideas of what went on within those walls. Still, it was too late to change his mind. He had no option but to follow this road and see where it took him.

Eventually he came to a pair of huge metal gates and came to a stop before them. Dismounting and removing his helmet, he found the intercom and pressed the buzzer.

“Hello?” came the tinny voice.

“Mick Ashton.”

There was a buzz and the gates slowly began to open. Getting back on his bike, he rode up towards the mansion. It was a huge, grand old building and looked well maintained. Standing outside the main entrance was a tall young black guy in a sleeveless army green T-shirt and black leather trousers and boots. He watched Mick approach with arms folded and a welcoming smile.

“Mick, good morning. I'm Roy, let me show you where to park your bike.”

He led Mick round the side of the big house to a large area where several cars were parked. Nice cars. Very nice cars!

“I hope you had a good journey.” Roy said. He was well-muscled with short-cropped hair. Did the Baron tell his security staff to adopt the military look, or did he choose guys who already looked the part?

“Yeah, nice day for it. I never would have found it without the directions, though.”

“The Baron will see you in a few minutes, you can wait in here.” Roy led him into the house, through a well-furnished and decorated foyer into a large room with furniture that looked old fashioned but at the same time new and comfortable. A grandfather clocked in one corner ticked away solemnly. Mick was surprised at how quickly he was feeling relaxed.

“Adam will get you a drink, and something to eat if you are hungry.”

Mick couldn't help jumping at the sight of the naked boy who had just entered the room. Adam was a lad of no more than twenty-four or so, slim and smooth, handsome and alert. Roy noticed his reaction and smiled, leaving the room.

The boy stood with his hands behind his back. “What would you like, Sir?”

“Er, I, I, er … Water. Please. Just water.”

Adam smiled sweetly and nodded, leaving the room. Sunshine from the large open French windows fell in a broad stripe across his skin, painting his firm, rounded buttocks a beautiful rosy gold. Mick had a sudden strong urge to touch that smooth rump, to see if it felt as good as it looked. He swallowed and his throat was suddenly very dry. He would be needing that glass of water!

He began the cumbersome process of removing his leathers. By the time he had finished, Adam had returned with a tall glass of cold water. “There you go, Sir.” Mick took the glass and the boy nodded and was gone again, too quickly.

Mick made himself comfortable and relaxed. Luckily this wasn't the kind of job interview where he was required to wear a suit, so he was able to keep on his denim jeans and a simple T-shirt. Dressing up under the bike leathers would not have been ideal, especially on such a hot day.

After a few minutes Roy came back. “This way, please.”

He was led through the house and into a large garden. The grounds stretched out towards a distant green horizon, merging into a vast forest. A tall man in a white shirt stood on a broad patio facing the scenery, a rifle hanging from one hand. A second man, dressed the same as Roy, stood nearby. As Roy and Mick approached, the man with the gun called out in a loud voice “Pull!”

From somewhere nearby was a loud bang and a small dark shape went shooting into the air. The man lifted his rifle, took aim and fired. The object disintegrated into shards. The man lowered his gun and turned to them, smiling.

Roy did the introductions. “Baron Michael; Mick Ashton.”

The Baron handed his rifle to Roy and stepped forward, shaking Mick by the hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mick. Welcome to my abode!”

“It's magnificent!”

“I'm glad you approve! This is Gavin, my head of security.”

Big, muscular, tattooed, Welsh, moustache, very obviously ex-forces. Very firm handshake.

The Baron led Mick to a table and chairs that had been set up nearby and they all sat. Adam appeared as if from nowhere, carrying a tray with water and orange juice. Mick couldn't help but look at the naked youth again, but the Baron was also quite striking. “I've had a look at your CV, very interesting. I see you were in the armed forces, so was Gavin.”

“I checked out your record.” Gavin said, his voice deep and gravelly. “Impressive.”

“Thank you.”

The Baron smiled. “OK, let me give you an idea of the set-up here. The security staff here keep an eye not just on me but also my property. And that property includes my boys. They are, for the most part, much more vulnerable than myself.”

Gavin continued “The Baron currently has fifty-three boys on the estate. They live and work here. Mostly they stay on site, but sometimes they will accompany the Baron on social events. Security is provided for all such excursions.”

“They are...” Mick hesitated. “Escorts?”

The Baron laughed. “They are slaves! Servants, escorts, masseurs, waiters, butlers, gardeners, cleaners... they fulfil a variety of functions. If you're asking do I fuck them, the answer is yes. Does that make them boy-whores? That depends on your viewpoint, doesn't it? Each boy signs up for a six-month contract, during which time the estate covers all his costs. He is fed well, sheltered in excellent accommodation, receives first class medical support and the opportunity to take part in a lifestyle that most people can only dream about.”

“So they don't receive... wages?”

“No. But they are provided with everything they need. Young Adam whom you met just now? He had a long-standing problem with his teeth. At the end of his first contract he received top-notch cosmetic dentistry. He could never have afforded that himself working as a PA. He is now on his third contract with me. Other boys have benefited from my generosity in other ways. One had parents who were experiencing difficulty gaining indefinite leave to remain in the UK. My solicitor took care of it. Another is on a gap year, studying astrophysics at Cambridge. I arranged for him to meet one of the project leaders of the European Space Agency. Invaluable to his studies and future career.” He chuckled to himself. “Little things like that!”

Mick nodded. “I see. So the security staff are essentially bodyguards?”

Gavin nodded. “And more. We are guardians for these young lads. If you think of the Baron as their benevolent father, we are like the protective big brothers. We generally watch over them, look out for any problems or difficulties they might be having. Settle any incidents of indiscipline, should they arise. By which I mean breaking up fights, that kind of thing. Punishments are handled personally by the Baron.”

Mick's mind raced, imagining someone like Adam being punished by the imposing man sitting before him.

Gavin added “There are times when the Baron is busy and may pass that duty onto one of us, but you must remember that is STRICTLY FORBIDDEN for the guards to have any sexual contact with the boys without the Baron's permission. Break that rule and you're out on your ear!”

“Understood.” Mick said, glad that the table hid his erection.

The Baron smiled. “Security staff also live on site, your quarters are well-equipped and you have access to recreational facilities including an excellent gym, a social club, squash court, dojo and swimming pool.”

Gavin said “The boys clean communal areas but not your private quarters. They are not allowed in there!”

The Baron looked across at his head of security, an eyebrow raised. The Welshman met his gaze and then looked back to Mick, scrutinising him for a few seconds before turning back to the Baron and nodding. The Baron smiled and said “OK, Mick, we're both satisfied so far. I'd like to start you on a week's trial, see how you get on. I have a feeling you're going to fight right in.”

He stood, as did Gavin. The interview, such as it had been, was over. Mick stood as well and the Baron beamed, holding out his hand. They shook again and Mick said “Thank you, Sir.”


Roy took Mick to the guard's quarters and helped him move in. He tried on his uniform. The shirt was comfortable enough, but the leather trousers would take some getting used to, he thought. He met some of the other guards and had lunch with them. At two o'clock they started going back to work, leaving Mick to his own devices.

“You can have a look around the grounds, relax in your room, whatever you want.” Roy said.

“By myself? Sounds dull. I barely got here.”

“Well, you're not officially on duty until 0800 hours tomorrow, but if you want you can come with me on my grounds patrol. It's a nice stroll if nothing else.”

“Beats twiddling my thumbs. Let's go!”

Roy strapped a walkie-talkie radio, a bottle of water and a roll of rope to his belt and led Mick out towards the forest that lay beyond the garden. The sun blazed gloriously as the two men entered the green world. They soon left the mansion far behind and the only sound was the gentle hiss of the wind in the tall trees and the occasional chirping of birds.

Roy smiled at him. “So what made you apply for this? Hardly your average security job, is it?”

Mick laughed. “After leaving the army I had a look round and didn't see anything that interested me. When I heard about this place I was curious, I suppose. What about you?”

“Well, I've done door work since I left school, been in the bouncer game ever since. It's OK, but after twelve years wrestling drunks you kind of itch for something different. Then, a couple of years ago I started getting into the BDSM scene. Got myself a few subs. One of them told me about the Baron. I'd heard the rumours but didn't know whether to believe them or not. Now I know!”

“Well this is definitely something different!”

Roy chuckled. “It's nice being surrounded by lots of nice naked boys. Though it can be a bit frustrating at times! But you just have to deal with it.”

They penetrated deeper into the forest and soon they were swallowed up in a pleasant green shade. Squirrels scattered frantically across their path as their boots crunched through fallen leaves and branches. The fresh, vital scents seemed to fill Mick's head with every breath.

A sound made him freeze, stopping instantly. Roy stopped too and frowned. “What's wrong?”

Mick was scanning the trees around them. “I heard something. Is there anyone else out here besides us?”

“There shouldn't be. I didn't hear anything. Are you sure it wasn't an animal?”

“It didn't sound like an animal... There!”

About thirty metres to their right a patch of bracken moved. Mick headed towards it, Roy following. When they got closer they could see a pair of legs barely hidden by the bracken; the owner was trying to slowly crawl further under cover. Roy called out “Hey! We can see you! Get out of there!”

A young man stood up, scowling at the two guards. He was dressed casually, in shorts and T-shirt with a small rucksack on his back. Roy said “Philip! What the fuck are you doing here? You were given the boot two weeks ago!”

Philip tried to look dignified but wasn't making a very good job of it. Skinny, about twenty-five, a bit camp and delicate looking. “Nothing.”

“Nothing, bollocks!” Roy walked over and took the lad by the shoulders, turning him round. Ignoring Philip's protests, he opened the rucksack and reached inside, taking out a camera. “What's this? A few pictures for the tabloids, is it? How much are they paying you? It must be a lot to risk getting a criminal record for trespassing!”

The boy turned back to the face them. His already pale face had gone a shade whiter. “Please, I can't have that! Keep the camera, just let me go.”

Roy looked at Mick and laughed. Mick frowned “Who is this kid?”

“He was one of the Baron's boys. For about four days! Couldn't quite knuckle down to the regime, could you, Philip? And the Baron doesn't take kindly to disobedience. Young Philip here got sloppy in his work, then refused to take his punishment, so it was bye-bye boy! Only now he's sneaking back to try and get some photos for the local gutter press, I bet.”

Philip raised his hands, his voice getting a little shrill. “I'm going, I'm going. Let's just forget all of this, OK? Please, don't get the police involved. Please!”

Roy laughed again. “Well, I dunno. What's it worth?”

The boy frowned. “I don't have any money.”

“No, but maybe you can pay another way.” Roy said, a harsh edge creeping into his voice.

Philip looked frozen with fear, looking from one guard to the other, his mouth hanging open. Mick watch, fascinated, as a range of emotions played across the young lad's face. Fear, confusion, realisation, dismay, and then a strange calm.

Roy took the roll of rope from his belt and said “Follow me.”

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