Surrender

Something wonderful happened on Friday.

But let me backtrack a bit. This has made me think about a lot of things.

Back in March I went to JustRope. For those of you unfamiliar with JR, it is a rope bondage event held in a great private club with excellent facilities. It's very popular and well attended by riggers and bunnies, beginners right through to advanced, and is not just a great play event but also a great social.

And it's not a gay thing. It's organised by, and mainly attended by the 'mainstream' BDSM community, whom I hesitate to refer to as 'straight kinksters' as that would be an inaccurate description (and anyway “straight & kinky” sounds like an oxymoron). Nevertheless, there is a difference – and a bit of a gulf - between 'them' and 'us'.

At one end of the spectrum you have hetero BDSM folk and at the other end BDSM gay men. Inbetween, of course, there are bisexuals/bi-curious/'heteroflexible' people, mostly women, and they – not surprisingly! – fit in just fine among the kinky straight guys. Some full-on lesbians also mingle in these circles, though not so many. Full-on gay men are even more rare.

Which is a shame, if for no other reason than the fact that us gay guys don't really have our version of the larger BDSM community, not to the same extent. One straight kinky guy asked me recently about “the gay SM scene” and I had to say – Well, we don't really have one. What we have is the leather scene, which isn't quite the same thing. The leather scene, at its heart, is kinky as feck, but in practice it is so widely-encompassing of gay male sexuality as to be dilute, attracting legions of vanilla guys who think leather looks horny.

Leathermen have always been the traditional gatekeepers of gay male SM and we owe them a lot for establishing the foundations. Unfortunately, however, a gay man in full leather is not always what you might hope him to be. The leather scene is, to some extent, a victim of its own popularity.

The spirit of the Old Guard does live on, though, and always will, even though leathermen have evolved somewhat, being less rigidly stereotypical than in the Good Old Days. And of course there are many BDSM gay men who are not leather. I'm not, not really. I like to wear a bit when I feel a sense of occasion, but I'm really just dipping my toe in the water. And I doubt I'll ever own a motorbike!

We have gay BDSM organisations and institutions that are very well-established and popular, which overlap nicely with kinky leather guys, but they are few and far between, particularly in the UK. We don't have the massive community involvement that exists on the mainstream BDSM scene with all its club nights, workshops, munches...

Obviously a big reason for this is that – hello! - we are a minority. There are a lot fewer of US than there are of THEM. It may not seem that way if you live in a big city with tons of gay men crawling out of the woodwork as soon as the sun goes down, but it's true. And kink is another minority, so kinky gay men are a tiny fraction of humanity. Which sounds a bit depressing but don't worry, there are still millions of us! (Phew!)

But why the big gulf between gay men and everyone else when it comes to kink? We can't blame it all on homophobia/heterosexism (now there's a word I haven't used for about a decade!)... your average kinky heterosexual is, hardly surprisingly, more open-minded regarding sexuality than Mr & Mrs Cosy Vanilla Respectability.

There is also the factor of traditional gay male reticence around straight men. Yes, I'm generalising, but it's there. Out and proud as many of us are, most of us remember what it was like growing up scared, and if there was queer bashing to be done it would usually be the straight boys who were up for it... But before I burst into a rendition of Small Town Boy I must say that the world does feel a lot different today than it did in 1984! Nevertheless, some things linger, and at the back of my mind there's always the notion that hetties don't want to hear the nitty gritty of my private life.

After coming out at the tender age of seventeen I made lots of new gay friends and over the years they became practically my only friends. Obviously I was meeting hetties at work and got on fine with most of them without having to hide my sexuality, but I never had a close friendship with a straight guy. These barriers are all in our heads but that doesn't make them any less real.

What I did have during my late teens/early twenties was lots of lesbian friends. This was due to my community work and the fact that, of the two gay clubs in Birmingham at the time, one had a misogynist door policy so I boycotted the place. And I certainly felt more comfortable with dykes than I did with the straight boys. I felt I had more in common with them. Also, I had been to a few gay pubs where there were no women at all, and it felt weird. I didn't want to be part of an all-male space, it felt elitist and insecure.

By my thirties, though, I was leaving the lesbians behind too. I had less time for the lesbian and gay community and focussed more on my bondage interests, which inevitably meant meeting more and more gay men. Diversity was the first victim of my kinky nature.

Sometimes opening one door will close others.

I was also getting more involved in martial arts, and discovering, albeit late, that male bonding (of the totally non-euphemistic kind!) was something I could do and did enjoy. Also, I started working in security and spending long hours with straight, mostly male, colleagues. If you've ever worked in security you'll know it consists of huge chunks of time sitting on your arse talking bollocks to the bloke you're working with. I felt myself drifting a little, less interested in the mainstream/vanilla gay community.

Early last year one of my funbuddies/play subs invited me to go to Hard On with him. I went along, having read the publicity about it being a mixed BDSM club and curious to see the kinky lesbians, straights and whatever else. I thought – Wow, this is me checking out the REAL kink scene, moving out of my comfort zone, touching base, keeping it real, getting radical and adventurous...

Well, it was nice but it wasn't what I was expecting. 99% gay men, all in fetish gear but only interested in one thing: vanilla sex (unless you include fisting as a kink). It was great fun, but not what I was hoping it would be.

A little later I was contacted on Recon by DogTrainer1974 who was organising his Men Only Rope Event (MORE). It was a very successful day, held in a great venue... a venue I was later to discover was also used for JustRope, Peer Rope and a very popular 'straight' kinky club night.

Which brings me back, eventually, to March's JustRope. I went along with my trusty bunny expecting to meet DT and some other gay mates there but they all had to cancel. We faced the rather nerve-wracking prospect of being the only gay men at the event, surrounded by people who were nice enough, but mostly strangers. No great disaster, but it made me feel a bit awkward. I need not have worried, though, because a very extrovert guy going by the name of Michael Cane took it upon himself to introduce himself to everyone and make us all feel more relaxed.

Surrender was Michael's idea.

What is Surrender?

“Surrender is a members club and runs the club night specifically for BDSM for gay men, lesbians, bisexuals, transsexuals, transvestites and any other variations on these themes. All are welcome. There is a lack of proper BDSM playing facilities and events specifically for those who don't want to feel judged or out of place in your typical BDSM club.”

This from a straight guy!!!

I liked the idea and got involved, not exactly sure how it would work having all those different types of people together, but wanting it to work nevertheless. Other people shared my concerns, many doubting that it would be a viable mix. But I thought - If it did succeed... wouldn't that be great?

With the help of a feisty young dyke we started putting the word out. I organised a bit of advertising. My concerns lingered until the last few days leading up to the launch, when indications start to come in that, actually, this might turn out to be more successful than we had been hoping.

Then last Friday the night finally arrived … and so did a steady trickle of revellers. We went from apprehension to contentment once a comfortable number had gathered and started mingling and buzzing. Contentment soon became joy when people just kept on arriving.

In no time the night was in full swing and we had a huge varied mix of people. It was just what we had wanted: gay men, lesbians, bisexuals, transfolk and straights all having fun together. With so many colourful characters and so many different activities going on it was a spectacular evening.

Our baby had been born and it came out kicking!

Surrender is now a monthly event, the penultimate Friday of every month. Kinksters of all sexualities are welcome. I really don't think there is anything quite like it going on at the moment, certainly not in the UK. It feels so good to be with a diverse mix of people who all have an interest in BDSM in common. I feel that lots of barriers were broken down that night, and new friendships made.

It has also given me a renewed enthusiasm for my own BDSM identity. Being kinky isn't always easy and sometimes you have doubts, but I can see a whole lot of possibilities now.

Watch this space, folks...

The Baron's Stable - Part 12

Time dragged.

The anticipation in the air was like electricity. Baron Michael and Lady Alicia ate their meal leisurely, followed by dessert and more wine, all the while enjoying the mixture of terror and excitement that was obviously tormenting poor Steve.

The Lady shared a joke with the Baron and sipped her wine. Then she turned to Steve, fixing him with her steely gaze. “Would you like some wine, Steve?”

“Not while I am on duty, Ma'am.”

“Your employer has loaned you to me for the present time, young man. I make the rules now.”

Steve frowned and looked to the Baron, who smiled and shrugged.

“Just a little tipple, I don't want you getting drowsy on me.”

“Yes, Ma'am. Thank you.”

She extended one thigh-length red leather boot towards him and pointed her toe in his direction. She then extended the arm holding the wine glass and slowly poured the wine onto the toe of her boot and up towards her thigh.

“There you go, boy.”

“Yes, Ma'am.” Steve got down onto his hands and knees and crawled over towards her. Sticking out his tongue, he began to lick the wine from her boot, following every dribble and drip, his mouth slowly travelling higher until his head was almost in the Lady's crotch.

She stroked and patted his head, stroking his handsome face. “Good boy. Now stand up and follow Jerome.”

Her white rubber-clad servant appeared and led Steve away from the table towards a large open cage a few feet away. Leather cuffs were already in place there. Jerome positioned Steve against the bars, spread eagling him and fixing his wrists in place. Mick could not see Steve's face, only his broad, smooth, muscular back, but he could see the tension in the young man's body.

Lady Alicia stood and slowly walked over. Her high-heel boots made a loud CLOP-CLOP sound as she covered the short distance. She reached up and ran her fingernails down Steve's back, making him jump, then shudder. “Beautiful skin. Truly, Michael, you have impeccable taste, even when it comes to your bodyguards.”

“If you say so, my dear!”

She leaned forward and spoke softly into Steve's ear. “Be brave for me. Your reward will be sweet.”

Steve swallowed and said “Yes, Ma'am.” His voice was hoarse with fear. Just visibly, he was trembling. She kissed his ear, then bit it, gently at first. After a few seconds Steve's eyes closed and he grunted in pain.

Laughing, she walked away from him and took the bull whip from her belt. It was made entirely of wound leather, red and black, and the coils fell to the floor at her side. She extended her arm to her side and took another step back.

Her arm moved like lightning. Mick barely registered the movement before he heard the CRACK as it connected with its target. Steve cried out, jerking against his restraints. His body had gone rigid, shaking with the aftershock. A thin red line lay diagonally across his back, the muscles all standing out starkly.

CRACK! The second strike landed, and once again Steve jumped, all his muscles tensing, but this time he managed to hold in his cry and only a muffled groan escaped him.

CRACK! Again she struck, the thin leather uncoiling and hitting the exposed skin like the tongue of some demonic beast, drawing another strangled sound from behind the victim's gritted teeth.

The fourth blow drew a choking gasp, Steve's body convulsing involuntarily. The fifth made him go rigid as a statue, trembling almost imperceptibly. He started gasping rapidly, fighting for breath before the sixth blow landed, wringing a strangled moan from him.

She struck a seventh time and he arched his back as if welcoming the sting, his arms spread as wide as the shackles would allow, his fingers splayed. His grunt of pain was low and loud.

Alicia stood still, the coil of leather lying on the floor in a twisting curl. Steve sagged against the bars of the cage, breathing heavily. Seven red lines marked his back, angry welts that were starting to glow against his skin. Mick saw a few tiny beads of blood dotting some of the lines.

The Lady wound up her whip and reattached it to her belt. She held out her hand and Jerome brought her a glass of wine. She sipped it as she approached the shaking man tied to the cage. “Well done, my brave young hero.” she said, stroking his arm and side. Holding the wine glass high, she tipped it so that the ice-cold wine fell between Steve's shoulder blades, running down the furrow of his back, across the welts. He shuddered, shaking hard as if going into a seizure.

Alicia handed the wine glass back to Jerome. He replaced it on the table and took the candlestick from the centre of the table, passing it to his Lady carefully so as not to extinguish the flame.

Mick glanced at the Baron. He was watching everything with a calm, relaxed smile. The boys at his feet were mesmerised. Young Jamie's eyes were glowing, his mouth slack, his cock hard against his stomach. Mick wondered if he had noticed, and then realised that he also had an erection himself. It strained against the leather trousers.

The Lady took Steve's chin with her other hand and turned his head towards her, kissing him passionately. She then raised the candlestick and slowly tipped it so that the hot wax fell onto his tortured flesh.

Steve shuddered again, his grunts of pain muffled by the Lady's kiss. His body spasmed as the burning drops rained down upon him, jerking like puppet. His hands gripped the bars for stability as his legs trembled.

Finishing, the Lady handed the candlestick back to Jerome, who returned it to the table. He poured her another glass of wine and she sipped it as she watched her victim grip the cage and shake.

Baron Michael clapped. “Bravo, ma cherie. Satisfied now? Or do you need to totally incapacitate the poor young man to the point where he is not fit for duty?”

Alicia laughed. “I am satisfied, Michael. I don't want to leave you a man short. Though I'm sure this one could easily carry him home for you.” She nodded towards Mick.

Mick smiled proudly.

“Oh, I've no doubt he could. Mick is strong as an ox. I would like Steve to leave here on his feet, though, as he came in. Appearances, you know?”

She curtsied gracefully. “As you wish, My Lord! Jerome, let him down.”

“Help him, Jamie.” the Baron ordered.

“Yes, Sir!” Jamie leapt to his feet and rushed over to Steve's sagging form. As Jerome released the shackles Jamie held onto Steve's waist, helping to keep him upright. Steve's arms dropped limply to his sides and he took a step back away from the cage. Jerome brought him a chair and Jamie guided him to it. Steve sat on it reversed, his muscular arms hanging over the back.

Young Jamie stood at Steve's side, stroking his hair and gazing into his eyes with wonder. Steve smiled up at him wearily and began stroking the boy's thigh. Jamie chuckled as Steve tickled his testicles, embarrassed by his erection. They spoke quietly to each other and started kissing.

The Lady smiled, raising her glass in a toast. “Now that, my dear Michael, is truly romantic!”

RopeTop.com

Ink, Kink & Rope: Bootbrush

Latest gallery now uploaded: RopeTop.com/bootbrush.html

What Domination is NOT

Being submissive can be scary, daunting and confusing. Especially when you don't have much experience. The behaviour of people calling themselves Dominant can be quite perplexing.

Sometimes a sub will contact a Dom person, on-line or in real life, and that person will behave in ways that are different to vanilla folk. And so they should. If subs wanted guys who act in familiar ways they would stick with vanilla men.

The problem is this: What is the difference between Dominant behaviour and plain, old fashioned bad behaviour? If you're a subby and some Dominant guy sends you a message on-line that says “Tell me what are you into, scum!” is that the way he is supposed to talk? And are you supposed to accept that?

I can only give you MY answer – there is no single authority on what is or is not proper BDSM behaviour, we make up our own rules – and my answer is NO, that is not right.

Just because you are submissive that does not mean that ANY Dominant guy has the right to dominate you even if they do not know you. If I choose to speak harshly to one of my subs, that would be a right that I have by virtue of the fact that he has given me that power, by prior agreement, as part of the negotiation process by which he became my sub.

If I meet a new sub guy for the first time and start telling him what to do, belittling him, insulting him, that is NOT me demonstrating my innate superiority. That is me acting like an arsehole.

So what if a relationship has been established? Suppose you are sub and you have met a Dom you feel you have something in common with, and you start seeing each other. What is an acceptable way for him to behave?

Can he treat you in a way that no-one else is allowed to? Yes.

Does that mean he can do anything he likes to you? No.

Is he allowed to lie to you? For example, if you find out that he has a partner/wife when he told you he was single. Does he have the right to be dishonest?

No.

Does he have the right to break promises? To arrange a meeting and then not show up without any explanation? Are you supposed to accept that as normal behaviour for a Master/Dominant?

No.

Suppose he begins a relationship with you and then drops off the face of the earth – doesn't contact you, ignores your messages, ignores your existence – Is that a test? Is he testing your submissiveness or commitment by seeing if you will keep the faith even while he treats you like crap?

No. He's just being a cock.

Hold on, you say, maybe it's like the story of Abraham. God tells him to sacrifice his only son to prove how strong his faith is. Abraham says “Yes, sure, no problem, c'mere sonny, God told me to slit your throat so be a good boy and hop up onto this pile of wood while I sharpen this here knife.” and the angel steps in and stops him right at the last second. Maybe this wonderfully mysterious Dom guy is testing me to see how much crap I'll take? Then, when he sees how committed I am, he will reward me for it by acknowledging my worth to him and treating me as his valued servant?

No. He's just neglecting you and doesn't have the common decency to let you know that he's lost interest. All that stuff about putting you to the test is a load of bullshit. If I had been Abraham I would have told God to shove it. “You want me to do what? Uh, no thanks. No deal. You can take your new religion, your twelve tribes and multitudes of descendants and ram it all up your omnipotent backside. Come on, Isaac, we're going home.”

Calling yourself Dominant does not give you an excuse to treat someone like dirt. OK, the sub might get off on arrogant, selfish Tops, but that arrogance and selfishness ONLY applies to the BDSM aspect of the relationship. The sub is still a person, a human being, and essentially the two of you are actually equals. Yes, really. You think you REALLY control him? Watch him tell you to fuck off, and then walk away from you.

Hurting someone by spanking him is one thing. Hurting him by receiving his devotion to you and then dumping him by text message is something entirely different.

My version of Domination and control is not the only kind, of course. Some subs like to be treated only with disdain. There are guys who want to be told they are worthless scum, and it makes them hot. There are guys who want to be “cash slaves”, or have a fetish for being blackmailed. It's not my place to tell them “Your kink is not OK.” but I reserve the right to have my own opinions about the type of guys who are happy to take advantage of them.

Some guys like a bit of psychological domination, or “mindfuck”, in fact good, deep Dom/sub has a healthy dose of this. Manipulation can powerfully reinforce the roles and make the whole thing more authentic. BUT! It has to be within a fundamentally consensual, respectful framework.

A BDSM relationship – if you want it to be more than just a bit of kinky sex now and then – is just like any other relationship. You have to have mutual respect. You have to have good communication. You have to be on the same wavelength.

Domination is NOT an excuse for being arrogant, rude, selfish or deceitful. It is NOT a shield to hide your insecurities behind. It is NOT exploiting someone's inexperience or vulnerability for your own gratification. It is NOT a way to avoid apologising when you make mistakes.

Submission is not about throwing away your self-respect. Being shat on from a great height is NOT the fair price you pay for the honour of being a slave. If someone is acting like an idiot, or a coward, or an arsehole, I'm sorry but it probably means that he is.

A Dom should be interested in you. He should care about you. Unless you are really dense, you should be able to sense if that is the case or not. If your instincts tell you that something is wrong, you need to talk about it. If he isn't prepared to talk, he isn't worth talking to. Or anything else.

Choose your Dom carefully. You want someone to look up to, to serve, to deserve. First of all, make sure he deserves YOU.

RopeTop.com

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.

RopeTop.com

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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