On Display to Thousands

I opened the door to find Master D’s sub waiting. He attaches the leash to my collar, says nothing, walks me down the hall to another bedroom door and knocks on it.

“Come in, its not locked,” I hear from inside.

The sub opens the door, unclasps the leash from my collar, gestures me to enter and closes the door behind me. The lights are on and I can identify this date immediately. It’s the verbally abusive master from the club. I sure it would be detrimental for me to rank my favorite abusers, but I do especially like this guy. He has proven to be very caring about my overall well-being, yet he has also been one of the harshest to me in many of the ‘play’ situations I have endured. Baffling, I know.

I immediately took a kneeling position with head bowed and my arms outstretched with the offering of the remote. He takes it and in an instant I’m shocked. The unexpected jolt collapses me to the floor. Fighting back the receding agony I get back in my submissive stance.

“Good, glad to know the collar works. For the moment I’m going to take it off. Before I fuck that lovely ass of yours, I need a shower. You are my lather and towel boy,” he tells me. “I don’t want to get the electronics wet; it belongs to Master D,” he adds and off it comes.

He then wastes no time heading directly to the shower. I rise and follow. It is a walk-in bath with a rain style overhead shower head and a handheld second head mounted at waist height. The right side has a built-in tiled bench seat. Hanging on a ceramic hook is a luffa. A new bar of soap is in the soap dish. Shampoo and conditioner sit at the back of the bench. A normal bath set-up.

He instructs, “Make the water nice and warm, but not too hot. Set the selector valve to direct the water through the handheld and rain head.”

I do. I also do my best to not get my leather restrains wet but that is not possible as the ceiling rain drops cover most of the shower. He reaches his hand into the water, approves the temperature and steps in with me. He removes the handheld from its holder, moves to the bench side and sits down, holding the head behind him so it sprays over his shoulders allowing water to cascade down both his chest and back.

“OK, Cunt, I mean Sissy, oh screw it, you’re my date so you are Cunt to me. Get on your knees and suck me off. I want your best blow job, but just don’t make me blow my load, I want that for your ass,” he orders. Seems just like my last date wanted.

I comply. My wife and I have bathed together countless times. There are many ways to sexually play in the shower, and we’ve enjoyed most of them. My favorite is going down on her, loving both her delicious pussy and the warm water spraying down over us. That is the thought I concentrate on as with my eyes close I service my date. The restraints cause some limitations, but my lips and tongue do their duty. He has to back me down more than once. I am getting good at this, much to my dismay and mental confusion.

After a few close calls, he decides he has had enough of being sucked and directs me to move onto his bathing. I stand up, but he stays sitting for the moment as I would otherwise not be able to wash his upper body with my arms secured as they are. I lather up the luffa and begin to scrub him down.

He is cooperating with the washing and not trying to make it difficult for me. He really wants the bath and is enjoying me giving it to him. With the top done, he stands so I can do his privates and legs. The wash is challenging, not the physical aspects, he is, as I said, being helpful and the bonds have enough slack to allow me to scrub. It is a mental struggle that causes the trial. I lather up his somewhat hairy chest. He bends over so I can effectively clean his ass. Then he arches forward to get his ball sack and member scrubbed. To a straight man, naked in a shower, having to wash another man, this is just gross.

Soaped up, he hands me the shower wand, and I give him a thorough rinse. He tells me to bend over, and he then washes my butt area, telling me, “I don’t want a smelly ass to fuck. What filth and cum resides inside your hole is your problem, and you’ll be cleaning up after yourself when I’m done doing you, I promise.” I know what that means, ATM, i.e. ass to mouth.

There is already a load of cum in there, sounds like he’ll add another. I hope my earlier douche at least makes me otherwise clean. He rinses my crack and it’s onto drying. There are large bath towels here and I do my best at drying him off, but my arm restrictions inhibit my reaching his head and shoulders. I am chastised for my failure with him blaming ‘my ridiculous need to be bound before serving as a submissive’ contract language. I try to redeem myself by making sure his privates are well dried, but in this master’s eyes, punishment is warranted for failure, good service is simply expected.

He then towels me down. Not nearly as well as I did him; to be expected, I guess. I’m surprised to find that my leather cuffs and belt haven’t absorbed much, if any, water. Contrary, I’m not surprised that this particular master reattached my electro-collar without delay. And then retested it, nearly dropping me to my knees again.

In a BDSM household, play toys need not be limited to a dungeon. To my dismay this bedroom has been provided with a rimming chair. I don’t know if it is here by request or is a standard feature for this room, but it is where my date takes me next. I’m ordered to lay down supine on a cushioned mat that is on the floor next to the chair. I am barely in place when he sets the chair over my head, adjusts it down and takes his seat.  

Rimming is another act that I generally abhor. I don’t want to lick his hole, but I have been forced to do this before, and I know I will do it now. But apparently, I didn’t get my tongue up in his crack fast enough as I am shocked again.

“Get to it, Cunt! You’re not on vacation. You’re here to be my surrogate sub. I don’t allow lollygagging from mine, so I am certainly not going to tolerate it from you, you sissy worthless piece of shit cunt,” he shouts out as I try to get my composure back from my spasming neck while simultaneously trying to thrust my tongue up his hole.

He likes to be rimmed. And so, I am at it a good ten minutes, doing anything and everything I can think of with my lips and tongue, so fearful that I will be shocked again for poor performance, or at the very least, hear his wrath. His wiggling and pressing down of his butt against my mouth coupled with words of ecstasy being uttered instead of his usual degrading prose tells me I just might survive without any more shock torture.

I can sense he is stroking his cock as I service his crack. He is of ample size. I know as he has fucked me numerous times before. I figure he is readying himself to do me again. I am right. He stands up from his chair as I am in mid-tongue stroke along one of his butt cheeks.

“Come on Cunt, get on the bed,” he tells me.  I climbed onto the bed, looking at him for general instructions. “On your back. Spread your legs as wide as your chain will allow.”

I do as I am told. He follows me. He gathers up my legs and bends them up so that they are being held above my head, fully exposing my pegging hole. I glanced up and saw that he was rock hard. I don’t get how looking down at another man’s bent over hairy ass can excite you, but it has him ready to take me. It reminds me that I’m not gay, and that he is.

Not sure when, but he had already lubed his cock, so as he thrust deep into my spread hole in a single motion, he penetrates me without much effort on his part. To me I am stretched without the benefit of any foreplay and so I am in pain. A lot of pain.

He gets right to a rhythm that pleases him. He is making no attempt to provide me with pleasure; this is all for him. He remarks about how glorious it is to fuck such a tight hole. He’s being complementary but his language is still gruff and belittling, his style. I find it funny, and that probably pisses him off. He gets his do, though, his abuse and pain delivery that accompanies it can go off the chart.

I could have just laid there and let him take me and he’d still get off. But I know better. He and his friends have taught me the hard way of how to use my rectum muscles and body movement to make this even more gratifying for the Top. And I know I better do those things. His movement from harsh to reassuring words of ‘good cunt’ and others indicate I am doing as trained.

He has stamina. I’m fucked for a long time. Longer than I could go if I was doing my wife’s pussy this way. This must be a stimulating and comfortable mount for him as he doesn’t change how I am positioned with my legs still trapped over my head, bent into a pretzel. I am starting to cramp but say nothing. I know my role. And though it is not a cake walk for me being folded this way, I can see how this is both an easy and relaxing way for him to get ultimate pleasure and effectiveness from his thrusts. His pleasure is all that matters here.

When he finally climaxes, it’s impressive as to how long he ejaculates in me. It seems to go on forever. With some fanfare, he collapses onto me, exhausted and simply exclaims, “Amazing ass, a bound straight hole is the best. I want to do you again and again.”

You’d think then I’d be treated better, but I am a BDSM submissive, be used then abused is part of the fantasy and is now my reality. And so, he withdrawals from my ass, moves up my body so his cock is at my mouth and I am told, “Cunt, clean that nasty cum and shit off my dick.”  Ugh.

I’m nearly done that disgusting task when there is a knock on the door. Its time for my third date of the evening. I start to withdraw from what I was doing when Master says, “Better make sure that cock is whistle clean, Cunt. You don’t go anywhere till I’m satisfied. And we better cork that ass of yours or you’ll be dripping all the way down the hall. I’m known for my cum loads.”

I finish; he secures my hole with a chrome plug and points me to the door. There I am leashed again and escorted by Master D’s sub to a neighboring room.