The long Journey: Chapter 12

A couple weeks later I received a letter from the organisation with a short term job opportunity. A well-known journalist had approached them to supply a companion for the time he worked at home, between assignments abroad. He had picked my photo out of a collection of local men. It wouldn’t be onerous but I’d have to be there for him, naked all the time. Whenever he felt like it he could expect sex or give a beating. I’d have to make tea or coffee on demand and sleep on a camp bed in his spare room. I was given two envelopes with reference numbers on the back. The first I was to send if I accepted the work; the other would be sent once the work was completed. I hesitated but decided to give it a try and a week later we met at a café outside the station in Romford. He was a Scandinavian type with ash blond hair and a slight lilt in his voice. We hit it off and agreed to a trial period of two weeks. He was charming and I was swept off my feet. We were soon on his motorbike on the way to a remote part of Essex where he had a converted farmhouse. “No point in yelling out here,” he said, “no-one will hear you, so you had better do as you are told”. He had a large well-appointed open plan living area with an office in the corner where he worked, contacting people to organise interviews and writing reports. In the opposite corner was a wooden frame with various things attached. “Now strip,” he said with an edge in his voice, then placed my clothes in a cupboard and locked it. He then showed me the kitchen and my bedroom, which contained a shower and toilet. “I must get back to work so don’t interrupt me. Sit down anywhere and wait.”

I waited. As the sun went down he closed down his computer and got up. “Now we can chat, but first get two cans from the fridge.” He cracked them open and gave me one. He was charming and great at conversing, relating anecdotes about his work. I wasn’t fully relaxed, not knowing what would happen next but the beer helped and he was soon rubbing his hand along the top of my thigh and feeling my tits, which soon got me an erection. I was keen to get my mouth working but I knew better than to initiate something. He went to a drawer and took out a one-inch thick leather collar to which was attached a chain. “Put that on and follow me.” We went over to the frame where he connected the other end of the chain. “Let’s see how much you can take. No-one’s going to hear you but if you want I can give you something to clench between your teeth.” I nodded. Despite the beer my mouth felt dry. He started using a belt to my bum, six at a time gently at first but getting harder. When I was obviously struggling to keep my cool he told me to count a final ten strokes, the last of which was so hard I yelled out. He rubbed my bum which felt warm to the touch. “OK,” he said, “I’m leaving you here while I get my dinner. Once I have finished I’ll release you so you can eat the leftovers and wash up. In the meantime if you are taken short there’s a bucket within reach.” With that he sauntered off.

That evening we listened to music; we shared similar tastes. Sitting there naked with just the collar on I couldn’t disguise my erection but he made no effort to relieve it. “Now go to bed and make me a breakfast of soft-boiled eggs, tea and toast for 8.00h sharp in the morning, on the kitchen table. Goodnight.” That night I did not know whether to relieve myself and decided against it.

I sat with him at breakfast and he chatted. I then had to get myself something to eat then clear everything up while he started work. Mid-morning he went out for a constitutional walk, leaving me behind. “Right,” he said afterward, “a bit more exercise.” and gave me another beating. I was beginning to think sex would never materialise. He then explained that he had two guests coming for dinner that night and was saving himself for that occasion. I was to wait on the three of them, eat my meal on the floor and then I’d get my ‘seeing-to’ from all three. Sure enough another motorbike revved up at 7.30h and it was time for me to serve drinks. One of the guests wore faded denims, shiny boots and a close fitting vest. The other wore leathers. I wouldn’t have kicked either out of bed. I got the impression they liked me too, well they ought to have done as I was fit and tanned from the camp, my hairs blonder than my skin and had a neat body, number two crop and three day stubble. By the end of dinner they were all a bit merry but I was sober. “These two have come all the way from Chelmsford, boy, so don’t let the side down. Do whatever you are commanded as though it came from me.”

After I had poured them a brandy each I had to lie down face up in front of the sofa so the guests could rest their boots on me while chatting with the host. A fair amount of cigarette ash also landed on me. The guy in the jeans was clearly the bottom but he was a top to me. “Go and string it up to the frame; I understand it can take punishment and I’m pretty good at giving it. You know exactly how I want it so see to it.” Next I knew I was receiving punishment on bum, arms, shoulders, calves and Leathers certainly knew how to do it without inflicting any unintended pain. I ached all over and dreaded the morning. They then took it in turns to fuck me, starting with the host and ending with Jeans. Finally Leathers took over again and fucked until he shot while Jeans blew me. “I think we’ll leave him there until tomorrow, said the host.” They had a nightcap before the guests departed.

As soon as they were gone I was released so that I could clear up and be ready to serve breakfast as before. The same guests came the following Saturday evening, and went away apparently satisfied. I was also building up quite a tolerance to pain. However I think I was beginning to get bored with doing nothing and inattentive. I knocked over a cup and smashed it. By the middle of the second week he’d had enough. “I don’t pay for this sort of service. If you won’t cooperate you’ll have to spend the rest of the time regretting it. He socked me one and I keeled over. As I came to in the dark I felt my head pressing against a cold floor and ropes biting into me while an aching bruise on my left upper arm made its presence felt. My wrists had been bound to my elbows behind my back to form a rectangle but my legs were unbound. I could see nothing. I think one eye was weeping; it was certainly painful. A fusty smell suggested a basement with a gritty concrete floor and I was conscious of my own body odour and being covered in dust. Then I remembered. After what seemed an age I heard a door unlock and a gritty boot grazed my flank and the sole came to rest on my face. Then I jumped as I felt drops of acid on my shoulder and back. Except I realised as they came faster that it was his hot piss he was spraying over me.

I decided to act out abject remorse. “I feel so sorry and ashamed, sir,” I whined, “after all the good things you have done for me I have repaid you in a most unappreciative way. Please can I make amends, I already miss you and would do anything to win your trust back,” I sobbed. I felt his face and lips press against mine and his tongue entered my mouth. He withdrew, spat in my face and rubbed it in. “Your pleading is getting me stiff,” he replied, and to be honest so was I. He entered my mouth and though my head banged against the wall he wasn’t rough and it wasn’t long before I was swallowing his cum. At that point he fastened a metal collar around my neck and padlocked it to a chain which was fastened to a lug set in the concrete floor. He cut the ropes binding my arms and replaced them with metal cuffs, still behind my back. He scattered some dog biscuits over the floor and suggested I ate them sparingly to avoid thirst. “If you hear anyone approach I suggest you move away from the biscuits and kneel facing the direction of the sound. If I get randy I’ll be back, otherwise the next time you see me will be at the end of your contract.” He locked the door on his way out.

I tentatively searched for a biscuit with my forehead and eventually found one. I chewed on it and found it quite digestible. Time passed slowly; occasionally I heard footsteps on a nearby floor, the slam of the door and distant music but I lost any sense of time; tried mind games and eventually floated off. After an absolute age, feeling itchy, smelly, thirsty and forgotten I was aroused by the clunk of the door and footsteps. I could tell immediately by the sound and the sickly smell of deodorant it wasn’t my host. I moved and knelt as instructed. It was two people, chatting to each other. The one facing me unbuttoned his flies and with one hand nipped and held my nose while pulling down my jaw with the other. I realised what I had to do and was keen to slake my thirst on his piss. The said: “You know, you’d think an establishment of this size would have more than one urinal!” Yes, the other replied, “and as for the sanitation, it stinks.” He moved over for his mate and once he had emptied his bladder and zipped up they left, pausing just long enough to clear their throats and send their gob over me. I had just one more similar visitor some time later to slake my thirst; my host never reappeared.

I sat on the platform waiting for my train back to central London and thought back. I’d repaired things enough with my abject apology not to be in trouble with the organisation and I had volunteered to come back to his basement for long weekends without payment involved. I did this just once, and as before he brought one or two people down and left them to dispose of me as they thought fit, but best of all were the short moments we spent together before I was led to the basement. I felt something was developing. Sadly he was called away on an overseas assignment before I could visit again and he never got back in touch. So, where did that leave me? I went back to the club, wore a large collar, got to know some mates and hoped to find someone to explore with. I had learned that it wasn’t easy to reconcile the demands of bondage with all the other needs of life; I’d have to find the right person. I was young, had a trim body and plenty of experience so I felt with time I stood a good chance. Meanwhile there was always Saturday night.