The Pleasure Boy 07

My fleshly urge postponed for now, I set myself to study. Glancing over the reading list I'd been given, I saw that it was divided into five sections, First, there was a section with introductory readings for complete beginners like myself, who had not yet started classes. Then there were sections on each of the four areas that Mistress had described:

• on Pleasure Work, covering the Guild and its recognized modalities of pleasure, with the career opportunities and requirements for each;

• on Group Facilitation, covering basic skills for organizing workshops, celebrations, and other group events;

• on Body Knowledge, with a practicum of exercises on hygiene, physical fitness, massage and sexuality;

• on 'Hedonics,' a theoretical course on the history, philosophy and neuroscience of pleasure.

Most of the assigned readings were in four textbooks for these areas, and also on-line, in electronic format, to facilitate note taking and personal commenting. I switched on my new laptop and began to read, following the introductory reading list.

The first assigned text gave an overview of the many types of pleasure work -- sexual and otherwise, going on to discuss the professionalization of pleasure as an industry and field of study which came into its own as religious and puritanical prejudices faded.

A second assigned reading (on Philosophical Background) took up the widely misunderstood teachings of a Greek philosopher named Epicurus, and the objections of several opposing schools -- notably:

• the Stoics and Confucians, with arguments that Epicureans focus too much on themselves and their close friends, while turning away from duty and public life; and

• the religious thinkers of all stripes, with complaints that Epicureans are heedless and indifferent to righteousness and the commandments of their respective ideas of God.

As the chapter pointed out, Epicureans had always considered the satisfactions of meaningful work, service to others and public service as legitimate forms pleasure. They had never advocated indulgence in any pleasure beyond the bounds of moderation and common sense. They rejected ambition and the pursuit of fame as sources of anxiety, but not the pleasures of selfless work in a worthy cause. They asked for and insisted on a distinction between selfishness and wise self-acceptance and self-concern. As against Calvinists and Puritans who are suspicious of pleasure as such, they promoted wisely enjoyed pleasures which could advance authentic self-knowledge and happiness. Modern epicureans also accept and teach the apparent paradox that direct pursuit of pleasure and happiness can be self-defeating because true happiness and 'flow' involve a certain forgetfulness of self. It gets around this paradox through concepts of 'love' (in its many forms). With the Sufi poet Rumi, modern epicureans see pleasure as conducive to love and knowledge, which are in turn conducive to happiness.

I read on and on. At one point, realizing that I was getting hungry, I looked at the digital clock in the corner of my screen and saw that it was almost time for dinner. Shutting down, I scurried to the dining room, arriving just in time. As I sat down, I saw Mitch glance at me and scowl, stroking his cheek with the back of his hand. Looking around, I saw that everyone else at table was impeccably groomed, while my own hair was dishevelled and I hadn't shaved. I met Mitch's gaze and mouthed 'sorry'; and he nodded at me. Lesson learned. Even going naked, we dress for dinner.

Joe had prepared dinner, and now was eating with us at table. Lisa was serving and would eat later.

You don't need a blow-by-blow account of our table talk, that night. The other apprentices talked about their days' activities. Mistress announced that I was now a registered probationer, which got me a round of congratulations and best wishes. At then end of our meal, she made a second announcement about me: that I would now receive my first punishment for an offense of indiscretion -- that I had told her something private about my own mother that she had no need to know. She meant to use this occasion to teach me, and remind everyone, of the importance of confidentiality with all information that we received from or about clients. She told the story of a German call girl named Rosemarie Nitribitt who was murdered in Frankfurt at the age of 36, and had a movie made about her death. Her clients included West German industrialists and business executives, and the police suspected that she was doing a side business selling their business secrets, though this was never proven.

Though I had done no harm on this occasion, Mistress said that she would underline the seriousness of client privacy for all of us with six cane stripes on my bottom. Then she had me bend over the chair I had been sitting on, and made me wait in that position while Mitch brought her a cane. Then he held my wrists and had me meet his gaze steadily with my own, while she delivered slow, hard strokes, taking almost a minute between each. Then I had to kiss her hand, and thank her for the punishment-lesson, repeating back what she had taught us. Unlike the spanking I had had from Mitch the other day, this caning was no fun at all. But after I kissed her hand, she hugged me and kissed my cheek and told me that the incident was closed.

It was not quite closed, however. A few minutes later, Mitch took me aside, and told me that I had taken the punishment well, and could be proud of having done so. In fact, I did feel proud of having learned something, and of having taken the lesson in stride. I was reminded too of Mitch's spanking, marvelling at how well suited my buttock nerve-endings were to pleasure and to pain -- and at how close, and yet so different those sensations were.

Then Mitch gave me a handsome leather notebook and taught me how to write a proper punishment entry, noting my own mistakes and transgressions, and (later) the administered corrections (if any), and my thanks for closure. He told me that in future, I was to note my own mistakes, and that he or Mistress would review my entries once a week and deliver corrections as they thought appropriate. "Now I'll tell you something private about myself," he told me. "After all my years with Mistress Charlotte, she still has me keep a notebook like this one, with entries for things I've done that I think could have been done better. She rarely punishes me now, but we talk about my entries and she sometimes makes good suggestions for the future. In the future, if you're lucky enough to have a master or mistress whom you love and respect, the notebook is a valuable tool for self-improvement. You can keep such a notebook even when you don't have anyone who guides you, just to reflect on your own mistakes and shortcomings."

"Thank you sir," I told him, and meant it. "May I ask a question?" He nodded. "You can always ask. I may or may not answer."

"How long have you been with Mistress Charlotte, and how did you get together? I can see you have wonderful relationship, and that you're proud to be her submissive."

"I was very lucky," he told me. "As a young man I registered and took training from the LifeMates Corporation, hoping to find a Mistress whom I could love and serve. I was into BDSM and knew I was submissive, but I didn't just want kink or games. I wanted to serve a Mistress worth serving, who would have me do something worth doing. Charlotte was a client of Lifemates, looking for someone to work with her. Lifemates connected us 14 years ago, and I'm still with her. In the whole world, there's nowhere else that I'd rather be."

"Now go relax for awhile, then take a shower and shave. Comb your hair and come knock on Mistress' door at 10 o'clock. I know she told you not to wank already, but I'll tell you again myself. Your orgasms now are gifts from us. You're showing the right attitude and doing very well. Keep it up."

"Thank you sir," I said again. "You said you were very lucky to meet Mistress Charlotte. I think I was lucky to meet both of you."

"You were," Mitch replied. He stroked my cheek with the back of his hand. "This feels like sandpaper. Mistress will make you sleep on our floor, if you come to her with a face like this. Go shave. We'll see you later."

At exactly 10 PM, showered and freshly shaved, I knocked on Mistress door. Mitch opened, as nude as I was, barring the way. Without a word, he inspected me, sniffed my body, and ran the back of his hand over my cheeks. "You'll do," he said. "Come in." He stepped aside, repeating the invitation with a friendly arm sweep. Cautiously, I did so -- with the sense of entering a dim cave where dangerous powers lurked. I had no idea how I was supposed to behave.

Mitch saw how tense I was. "Be easy lad," he said. "No one's going to bite you now -- or if we do, it will feel good. You had your punishment after dinner, and it was not so terrible. It hurt a little, but you survived it. Now you're here for pleasure -- yours and ours.

The room had a private bathroom and shower. Its door opened, and she stepped out, nude as we were. Seeing her so, I gasped. Mitch looked at me and smiled. "Just do as I do," he whispered.

He knelt gracefully, bowed over one foot and kissed it. Rather less gracefully, I knelt and kissed the other ardently. Mistress took a fistful of my hair and gently me pulled up, still keeping me on my knees. "You have a good attitude," she smiled at me, "and that is all that matters now. We'll improve your technique, and you'll get plenty of practice. But the spirit is all that counts tonight, and yours pleases us greatly. Now kiss my foot again, as if you really worshipped it. Show your delight that you are privileged to do so."

Again, I bowed over the foot and kissed it -- and really did feel that it was a great privilege to be welcome there. Again she tugged me to my knees, and as Mitch stood up, I did also. "I'm not feeling very horny yet," she told us. "Maybe that will come later. For now, my pleasure is to watch two horny men perform for me. Here's what will happen: I'll get into bed, and you two will arrange the pillows behind me so that I can sit up comfortably and look at you. Then you will stand near each other at the foot of my bed and masturbate yourselves, and then each other, without touching your own or each other's genitals. You can caress and stimulate every part of your own and each other's bodies, except those genital packages. If you get erections or even come, that's fine. If you don't that's also fine. I just want to watch you giving yourselves sensual pleasure, without any other purpose."

We helped her into bed and arranged the white fluffy pillows behind her back, as she had asked. When she was comfortable, she commanded "Now stand where I told you, starting about two metres apart, and show me how sensuous you can be. Don't be in a hurry to interact. Don't come together and start working on each other till you are both ready. If this takes two hours, that's fine. I want to watch you pleasure yourselves, and put on a show for me."

"Yes, Mistress," Mitch said, swiftly beginning to do as we'd been told. With some hesitation, I did the same.

"Don't look at me. Keep an eye on each other," Mistress added as we found our places. No further instruction was given. Mitch began to stroke himself, lick his lips, and pinch his small, male nipples. At first, I copied him but then got lost in what I was doing, and went my own way. I held one hand with the other; stroked my face -- sometimes with the palm of a hand, sometimes with just a finger; sometimes switching hands to use the other palm, the other index finger. I reached around and spanked myself, as hard as I could, turning so Mistress could see me. I stroke my bottom cheeks and thighs, keeping off my cock and balls as ordered. I stretched, I danced in place, I imagined myself as a male stripper perfoming in a burlesque show for an audience of leering women.

Except that when I glanced at her Mistress wasn't leering. She was just watching me attentively -- like a craftsman, as I imagined -- as if considering what she had to work with. I went back into my own body and forgot about my audience.

At one point, out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Mitch was inching toward me and so I moved toward him. Soon we touched palms and then clasped hands. As we came together, he reached around, grasped a cheek of my bottom and pulled me up against him, rubbing his body with mine and drawing me into a slow, shuffling dance. Slight taller than I am, he bent over, kissed me on the neck, then bit my shoulder gently, pinching a fold of skin with his teeth. He was making love to me, as a woman might do, and it felt queer (in both senses of that word) -- stranger than when he had spanked me that first afternoon, or when I had sucked his cock. I have learned since that it one thing for one guy to fuck another, or for two men to get each off with a hand- or blowjob. It's quite another, and more difficult, for two men to be tender and sensual with each other: to express love and affection. That evening, I tried to respond to Mitch, to reciprocate his endearments, but I felt awkward doing so. Mistress Charlotte, watching us must have noticed this, for she stopped our fondling after a brief time.

"That's enough," she said. "Now I want some. Jim, climb into bed and make love to me. Follow my lead and give me the attentions I will ask for. Mitch, make love to me as you wish, but stay out of Jim's way. Help him if he needs it. I want him to end up between my thighs, learning to do the right things with a woman's clit. You can do anything else."

"Understood, Mistress. My privilege," Mitch answered as he moved to stand beside the huge bed.

Mistress, who had been sitting up, snuggled down and patted the bed invitingly. "Come here, stud," she said to me. "Climb aboard and show me what you can do."

I wasn't a virgin. I had a steady girlfriend with whom I'd petted, and gone all the way a couple of times. But this open, directed, three-way sex was completely new to to me. I just stood there and stared at her with my mouth open. Instantly, Mistress saw what was happening and changed her approach. "Take your time, dear," she said. "I can see that this is new to you, and that I'm going too fast. Just come to bed with me and let me cuddle you to start with. You'll be pleasuring me like a pro soon enough; but I can see I need to earn your trust. You don't feel safe here yet."

Slowly, I obeyed. I shuffled over to the bed and lay down next to her. She took me in her arms, held me close and stroked me gently as one would pet a nervous puppy -- which, I suppose, is just what I was. After a short while, she felt me relax. "There now," she said. "My body is yours to play with. Just fondle me and kiss me, and explore where it pleases you. Mitch will just watch us; he won't interfere." After that she was silent, gave no instruction but let me wander around on her at my own pace. Soon, feeling more sure of myself, I kissed and suckled at her generous breasts, then kissed her mouth. She kissed back and let her tongue engage with mine, encouraging that kiss to prolong itself. At last, we broke for air. "Now," she murmured, "I have another pair of lips down there, also in need of your attention. When you're ready, get down there between my legs and kiss my pussy; and let me show you how it can kiss back."

Feeling no pressure now, I worked my way down from one mouth to the other -- kissing and licking her neck and breasts again, then her tummy and neatly trimmed groin until my tongue was where she wanted it, probing around between her pussy lips. "Now," she said "let me help you find my clitoris -- the female organ of pleasure. Its external part is like the head of your penis; and when it's aroused, it gets erect and hard in just the same way. When I'm aroused, you will feel it with a finger, or with the tip of your tongue, like a hard little pea under a kind of hood, formed by the inner pussy lips as they come together." Then she played the child's game of hot- and-cold with me telling when I was getting 'warmer' and when not. I felt the bud grow hard as I worked my tongue in her, and her secretions flowed as my own cock stood up. I moved back up on her body till my head was just beyond hers and my cock hovered just above her slit. She reached down with a hand and guided me into her, thrusting her own pelvis into mine. "Now take me," she whispered. "Fuck me hard. I'm ready for you." I I did and she was; and we came almost together, her climax triggering mine.

In the after-glow, we kissed and caressed and toyed with each other's bodies. With part of my mind, I marvelled that she had made herself so open to me -- that she was allowing me to make so free with her. "Thank you, Mistress," I murmured.

As she answered, I heard the smile in her voice. "Respect is good. Next time I'll teach you how to fuck a woman and show respect. Tonight, I wasn't 'Mistress,' just 'Lotte.'

I knew better than to answer that; I just relaxed and felt good -- pleased and grateful that she had given herself, and happy that there would be a 'next time.' Mitch climbed into bed behind me and I lay sandwiched between them, facing her and spooned with him.

Before I knew it, I was asleep, and the next I knew it was morning. Mitch was already gone and Mistress was poking me. "Time to get up boy," she said. "We have work to do."