With My Master Baytor 04

With My Master Baytor 04

Coming home after my Thursday meeting with Mentor, my bum was no longer burning, but my whole body ached from the contractions of its muscles as I was flogged. Eight stripes with a strap doesn't sound like much, but the Canadian prison strap is a fearsome instrument when used correctly by someone who means business, as Mentor surely did. Made from smooth leather tanned with oak bark, three-sixteenths of an inch thick, fifteen inches long and three inches wide, attached to a twelve inch wooden handle, that strap was designed to make hardened criminals howl without cutting the skin or risking serious damage - and howl those who received it did, from the very first stroke they received. I don't think Mentor used it on me with

quite

the full power of a burly Canadian prison guard, but he did not spare me either. He had made his point. Though I was horny right now, I would think twice before masturbating because I now knew the suffering it would cost me: both the immediate agony of the strokes, and then the discomfort of sitting or moving for hours and days afterwards.

I stripped off and looked myself over in the full length mirror mounted on the inside door of my bedroom closet. About 5' 10" tall, beardless, but with a full head of chestnut hair, well built, but not built-up, I was quite a good looking young man, if you ignored my swollen red bum and the cage that covered my cock. With these additions, I looked more submissive than I knew myself to be. True that when not auto-sexual, I was a serviceable, bi- male slut, ready to give and take pleasure from good looking people of any gender. True that I enjoyed mild, or even medium, corporal punishment - the delicious pain and shame of going naked over a friendly lap for a good spanking with a leather-soled slipper or hairbrush.

It was true as well that I had eagerly answered Mentor's ad, followed his instructions, gone to Peter's toy store and bought the cage. I really had been getting bored with the constant wanking, was ready to trade some quantity for quality in my sex life. I really was interested in meeting friends and playmates for more interesting and challenging games. But I knew that I was not a genuine submissive. I had no appetite for serious pain, and no interest at all in putting aside my own desires or wishes to serve and worship another. I could play D/s games and sometimes enjoyed doing so, but the 24/7 lifestyle was not for me.

By temperament, I was an opportunist - an experienced student, skilled at getting A's from his teachers, and walking off with what they had to teach. I could recognize Mentor as a man who knew much more about sex than I did, and who therefore had something to teach me. I knew well how to treat such people with the respect they wanted - and generally, to behave in such a way that they would see me not just as another student in the classroom, but as a real

pupil

, the one they'd see as a worthy successor, and go out of their way to really teach. But in such teacher-pupil relationships, I always had my own agenda. If they knew what they wanted to get across, I knew what I wanted to take from them and, in the end, I went my own way - not theirs.

This is why, pushing 30, I was still working as a 'consultant,' really just a hired hand called in as needed to work on contract. I had a good 'track record,' a good reputation, but had not really attached myself anywhere and didn't want to. Nor was I being courted, either by employers or by sex partners, to settle down and be at home with them. Those who had tried had found that what they really wanted was something I would not give them. They wanted commitment; they wanted

me

. They wanted what my grandparent's generation would have called my 'soul.'

The week passed without much incident. I worked on my project. I ate mostly frozen dinners, though I did go to restaurants twice - both times with a book for company. I took the cage off twice, pleasured myself for 14 minutes the first time (on the Saturday evening) and then for 19 minutes (on Tuesday afternoon), then replaced the cage immediately each time. I'd decided that four stripes with that strap were worth enduring to avoid being tense all week. When I showed up at Mentor's home on the Thursday afternoon, I was feeling happy and not a little proud of my self-control.

Opening the door to me, he shook my hand warmly as was his custom and asked, "Hi Daniel. How are you doing?"

"Very well, sir," I answered him. "I did myself only twice this week. I'm feeling pleased with myself."

"Very good," he told me. "Flogging isn't hanging, but it too can concentrate the mind."

"That sounds like you're quoting someone. Or misquoting, I should say."

"It's a line that Boswell attributed to Samuel Johnson: 'Depend upon it, Sir, when a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully.' Clearly, this was the case with you. The prospect of the strap concentrated your will power."

I laughed, "That it did, sir. But it also got me to do some thinking. I think I now have a better idea of what I'm doing here, what I want from you, and what I am willing to sacrifice for it - what efforts I'm willing (and able) to make."

"Fine," Mentor said. "We'll talk about it. Go prepare yourself like last time, and I'll be with you in a few minutes."

I entered his big living room, went to the corner, stripped, and took off the cock cage, feeling really free for the first time in a week. I'd had the cage off twice before that week, but felt pressured both times to finish quickly and put it on again.

Now kneeling naked on the little rug, in front of his winged armchair - his throne, as it felt to me - I centred my mind, relaxed my breathing and silently rehearsed what I wanted to say to him. In a moment he entered the room, took his place in the armchair, held out a hand and looked at me expectantly with an eyebrow raised. Understanding what he wanted, I passed him the chip from my cage ring. He read it, saw that it agreed with what I'd told him, and nodded his head, still saying nothing. Handing it back to me to reinsert in its slot, he paused for a moment, then made a gesture inviting me to start. "We'll mostly talk today," he said. "You go first. Tell me what's on your mind."

I began by describing the thoughts and feelings that I've already mentioned: that I was ready to trade some quantity for quality in my sex life; that I was interested in meeting new friends and playmates for more interesting and challenging sex-games; that I was an exhibitionist who also liked mild-to-medium corporal punishment but that I had no interest in taking serious pain; and finally, that I needed a clear mind to do my work and could not afford to be either so horny or so physically sore that I couldn't think straight or sit at my laptop and write.

I ended by saying, "Look, sir, I respect you a lot. I know I can learn a lot from you. For two wanks each week (which I can live with), I'll take four of those stripes. I'll even learn to take them free, over your pony, but without restraints. But eight with that prison strap was too much for me. I was sore afterwards for half the week. And I can't be too horny to do my work. If you can't meet me half way on this, I'll have to quit."

Mentor chuckled. "I can meet you half way," he said, "and even a little better. You won't have to quit. Instead of floggings with the prison strap, I'll sometimes give you spankings over my lap. Not usually as punishment, but as a bonding exercise for both of us. You'll feel good about taking them, and they will leave you after, not with an aching body, but with a pleasantly glowing bottom. You'll ride that pony under my strap only if I have to punish you for lying to me, or doing something else that you knew was wrong."

"As I've told you a few times already, I have nothing against masturbation, and there's no need for you to quit entirely. But you

do

need to break your addiction to it - get it under control to have libido and juice for anything else. If you can keep it down to twice a week, there will be no reason to punish you. Start doing more than that, and you'll be renewing your acquaintance with my strap."

"There was another reason I was harsh with you. I also needed to get you thinking about what you want from me, and where you want us to go. It sounds like you already have done some serious thinking, and much sooner than I expected. You've mentioned wanting new playmates, challenging sex games, exhibitionism and pleasurable CP, but as a meaningful hobby not a lifestyle. I can help you with all of that - and I will, starting right now. Fair enough?"

"Yes, sir. I'm very glad to find you so reasonable, and I promise not to take advantage of that, but accept that you will push my limits sometimes. I'm delighted that I can learn from you."

"May I ask, just how do you intend to work with me? What should I expect?"

"Well, that's what I'd like to talk about today. Let's start with your masturbation habits. I think you already told me that you usually do it lying in your bed, but that you also like to it kneeling or standing in front of a mirror. Is that correct?

"Yes, sir."

"Why the mirror? What does that add for you?"

"That's my exhibitionist streak, I guess, sir. I also love for other people to watch me doing it. It was a turn on when you watched me masturbate. It was a turn on when Peter watched me after spanking me, at his store, the day I bought the chastity cage."

"But 'exhibitionist' is just a word, Dan. Don't just call yourself names. What does it feel like when people watch you wanking, or when you watch yourself? What does it mean to you? Can you explain that?"

"When someone watches me, and maybe edges me or directs me in other ways, it feels humiliating in a delicious way. Also, I love that they can see what a slut I am. On most occasions and in front of most people, I know I'm playing a role, sir - pretending to be proper and 'normal.' It just feels great to show who I really am."

"Wanking in a mirror is the same, sir. I get to show myself."

"You've mentioned that you have several 'friends with benefits.' Do they watch you?"

"Oh, yes sir. And sometimes they have me watch them! One of my friends is a woman - she's older than me, in her late forties now - who never let's me fuck her, or wants to fuck me. She always has me eat her, and then masturbate for her. Sometimes she makes me masturbate first; then she ties my hands behind my back, so I can't use them while I'm licking her. She says that that way, she can think of me as her slave, being forced to service her without taking pleasure from doing so."

"With yourself or with your friends, what else have you tried, or would like to try? I'll give you some suggestions later, or at our next session, but first I'd like to hear what you've already done or thought about. And how you think of your own sexual proclivities."

"I think I've told you most of what I've done, sir. I've had and enjoyed playmates of both sexes. I've given head to men and to women, and been told that I'm pretty good at it. I've also been fucked by men and by women wearing a strap-on. I've enjoyed all of it, but just wanking most of all. I think of myself as autosexual because, with all my considerable experience, I've been my own favourite sex partner. I'm least hesitant, most relaxed, least self-conscious when I'm just taking care of myself, the way I want to at that moment."

"And your sexual wish...?"

"My wish, sir?"

"Yes, what you're hoping I can do for you. What you were thinking when you answered my ad. What's in your mind now as you're kneeling naked in front of me That's what I need to know if I'm to help you at all."

"I think I've already helped you to some extent by breaking you out of the pattern you were in. The question is where do we go from here? Not wanking every time you felt like it will leave you with a lot of time and free sexual energy. How do you want to spend it? Any ideas?

"No, not really sir. I think you're right. I've been stuck in a rut and feel freer now, but I have no idea yet what I want to do with that freedom, how I want to use it. I was hoping for suggestions from you."

"Fine, then. I'll give you a couple of assignments to get started, and we'll see where they take you. First, I want you to start keeping a journal of sexual activities, fantasies, thoughts and feelings. Type it on your laptop. You'll send it to me each Wednesday night, so I'll have time to look it over before I see you Thursday afternoon. It will help you keep track of where you're going, and give us material to work with."

"Next, I want you to resume masturbating a couple of times a day, but with one big difference. You're only allowed to take the cage off and cum twice a week. Expect to be soundly spanked for anything more than that. I won't use the prison strap for this regular discipline. Maybe on a special occasion to punish something else if I think you need it, but not just to keep your hands off your cock. Now you're going to masturbate as much as you like, but your penis will stay in the cage. You won't be able to cum or get an erection."

"Then how can I masturbate, sir? I don't understand your order."

"Generically, to masturbate just means to stimulate yourself in some enjoyable or pleasurable way. Everything we do for its own sake, just because we enjoy doing it is 'masturbation,' broadly speaking. Good parents teach their children to amuse themselves without needing external stimulation. Only prudery about sex, makes it bad to stimulate yourself by stroking the genitals, while other forms of self-stimulation are good."

"There are erogenous zones all over your body, not just on the shaft and head of your penis or on your scrotum. On your face and neck, your tits (the male nipples are sensitive too), your abdomen and groin, the armpits and back of the knees, among some others. I want you to find those areas on your own body, and play with them. And learn to enjoy yourself in playing with them."

"You tell me you're autosexual. Fine then, learn to make love to yourself. Even for wankers, it doesn't have to be just 'Wham!... Bam!... Thank you sir.' You can take your time, get yourself in the mood, explore your own body and enjoy both doing that and having it done to you."

"Women rightly complain that their men are too focused on their hard-ons and orgasms to be competent lovers. It's partly their own fault, because older women don't often adopt young males and teach them. But still. Some men do learn on their own."

"You have a mentor now. With me, you will learn to make love - to yourself at the beginning, and then to whomever (or whatever) else."

" Is it clear now?"

"I don't know, sir. I understand what you want me to do, and I'll do it. But I have no idea what it will accomplish."

Mentor laughed. "That's fine, Dan. If you knew what it will accomplish, you wouldn't need me to get you to do it."

"Now let me watch you. At home, I want you to wear the cage while you do this; but now you already have it off, so let's see if you can give yourself an erection this way. You can touch yourself anywhere else, and any way you like - your face, your neck, your boobs. Your groin, your bum, your ass hole. All the erogenous zones on your body, except your cock and balls. You have to keep your hands off your genitals, and get yourself aroused without them."

"And arouse your audience too, if you have one. This time just me, but you can imagine a room full of people. They already know what a slut you are, but they want to see you how shameless you can be... how you love to make a spectacle of yourself."

"You're making it easy for me, sir - giving me this fantasy of masturbation as performance art! There'll be no problem at all, keeping a hard-on without touching myself there."

"No. Keeping your hard-on will be easy enough, if you're a real exhibitionist. If you're not too nervous or self-conscious. But your goal - I wasn't going to lay it on you yet - is to learn to cum with your mind alone. That isn't easy at all."

"Is that even possible?"

"Oh yes. It's a regular practice in Tantric Yoga. Admittedly, not for beginners. But if you work at it, you can get there."

"Now, enough talking. Shut up and get started. I want to watch your inner slut showing off to me."

Still on my knees, on that little rug in front of Mentor's arm chair, I began to caress myself, using both hands and starting with my closed lips. From the lips, I moved to the cheeks and then the ears. Soon, I closed my eyes and gently, just with the finger tips on each hand, touched my eyelids, and the region around my eyes.

Then I rose to my feet, thrust my pelvis and erection forward, and commenced to stroke my groin, my lower abdomen, my upper thighs - all around my genital area except the genitals themselves. My cock stayed rigid. I continued this show for at least twenty minutes. Mentor just watched me, deadpan, and never said a word. I could not tell what he was feeling and that began to bother me to a point where my erection wilted. He clapped his hands once and said "All right. That's enough."

I ceased stroking, returned to my knees and resumed the Nadu posture - head bowed, eyes looking downward, palms upturned as if in welcome on the opened thighs.

Mentor let the silence stay for a minute longer. Then he spoke. "Talk to me Dan," he said. "How was that for you? Did you enjoy that?"

"Quite a lot, almost until you stopped me, sir," I answered. "I enjoyed showing off how sensuous I am. I enjoyed the frustration of wanting to stroke my cock and balls and trying to show how much I wanted to, when I was not allowed. I enjoyed being a slut... being a slut for you."

"Toward the end, I was feeling anxious, getting no response from you. I wanted to know that I was turning you on."

"Was I?" Will you tell me now?"

"No I won't, Dan, because it doesn't matter. I warned you that I am your mentor, not your playmate. When we're together, only your feelings are important; and as feelings, they are important only to you. For me they are necessary information. As are my own feelings as I watch and respond to you. Do you know what 'countertransference' is?"

"I know that 'transference' is a term that shrinks use. It's what their clients do when they feel and act toward the therapist as if he were a mother or father - a significant other, from the past or elsewhere, of any kind. Countertranference must be the therapist's response to that. But I'm only guessing."

"Your guess is correct. It's important that the therapist not allow herself, or himself, to be sucked in to their client's games and feelings, their client's subjective world. But how could the therapist know what a client was feeling or attempting, except by noticing their own responses to it."

"Trainee therapists are taught to use their own feelings as data - never to act on them; but sometimes, selectively, to share them with the client as a technique of therapy, and always to pay attention to them, as a crucial part of knowing the client... and helping the client to know himself."

"What I want to know is how much did

you

enjoy that? Would you like to do a show like that in front of a paying audience, of both men and women, and then perhaps be spanked and milked in front of them as well?"

I felt my cock twitch as he asked that question, and was sure that he had noticed this. " Yes sir, I think I would like to do that. I've never done anything like it before. But I've wanked myself lots of times with someone watching, and that audience always turns me on. I'd love to try the scene you've just described."

"Well, you need some training and practice before you're ready, but the time will come."

"Now, our time is up, for the day, so put your cage back on, get dressed and go home. If you need to, you can wank to lose your woody, before you cage yourself, but I won't be watching you do it."