I'm not going to go into a long-winded tale or the details of how I ended up in the situation I did, but basically, I had become curious about being beaten hard by a male. So, I answered an ad for a strict master seeking a sub or a masochist.
The trip up there had involved a longish train journey with two changes on the way and I had arrived at the station at about six o'clock. At the station I had been met by 'him' and then driven to his house which was in the country and reasonably remote.
He was a man in his late fifties, tall, slim, and quite well spoken, educated too. He was also extremely polite and charming. There was no doubt in addition that he was pretty well off.
That evening he'd cooked me a dinner and he had been the perfect host. Afterwards he'd asked me questions about my life, my job, my interests, and my family. He'd told me a few things about his life but probably more significant was what he
didn't
tell me; things that could identify him. He was a nice guy in many ways, and he also made me laugh. I warmed to him.
Just before ten he suggested that we turn in as he thought that it would be best for me if I was fully rested for what he had planned for me.
My room was lovely, en-suite, and my bed, with freshly changed sheets, wonderfully comfortably. On the bedside table was a glass jug containing iced water.
Once I'd tucked myself in, I had fallen asleep quite swiftly...
*
I had been woken by him coming into my room, placing a tray of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast along with a cup of coffee onto the bedside table and then pulling the curtains across to let the light in. The time was about seven and I did indeed feel rested and alert. I also felt a kind of rising anticipation and fear: I knew what was in store for me. Or
thought
I knew what was in store for me.
As I had yawned and stretched in bed, he had placed the tray across the bed and had said with a smile: "The last meal of a condemned man."
I had chuckled at that. Nervously.
He had then added: "I haven't made you a lot of food as it's not good to be beaten with a full stomach. Enjoy it and then get showered. Afterwards you can then watch T.V. for a bit to allow your food to go down. I'll come for you in due course. But in the meantime, relax as best you can."
I wasn't sure I would be able to relax but nevertheless I luxuriated in the shower after shaving not just my face but under my arms and pubic area too -- it looks better, neater and I feel more hygienic.
Once I'd dried myself, I had slipped into a dressing gown he had provided and after flicking through the channels on the television had settled into watching a documentary about Hitler's campaign in Russia.
Just before the programme had ended, he had knocked gently on the bedroom door before letting himself in.
"It's time now," he had said. "Go to the toilet and then remove your dressing gown."
When I'd done that, I'd felt a chill run through me.
He then ushered me downstairs -- I was completely naked - and out through a back door into his long garden. As I had gone outside, I had shivered because the temperature was clearly below zero and I could see my breath condensing as I breathed out.
We walked along a stone path which had a thick coating of frost on in places to what resembled a kind of log cabin at the bottom of his garden. I had wondered if he had had any neighbours, but I could see no other buildings close by -- the location was remoter than I thought, and obviously intentionally so.
Once inside the cabin, which wasn't much less cold than outside he guided me to a solid wooden frame -- probably hand-made -- which consisted of a 'step' to place my folded knees on, a leather padded platform for my torso and various strategically leather straps to secure my limbs with.
For a moment I inwardly panicked -- I was extremely scared -- but managed to calm myself down. I remembered that we had talked about safe-words and rationalized that if he had killed someone in the past he would most likely have been in jail by now.
