Find Me
Story by: Mike Miksche
April 8, 2020
Master B. had sent me an address for an old carpet factory in Mission Hill that had been converted into condos and told me to go there for 8 p.m. I had the guy at the front desk buzz me into the lobby, which looked like an old study you’d see in the movies with an oriental rug, tufted sofa, and two armchairs next to a large fireplace. The walls were covered in old black-and-white photographs of wild animals like tigers, cheetahs, and different kinds of monkeys.
“Are you Michael?” the man asked. He sat behind a massive oak reception desk, so big that I could only see his face from behind it, like a floating head.
Even though he’d said my name, I looked around to make sure he was talking to me. “I am.”
His brown eyes seemed vacant; he looked right through me. “This is for you then,” he said, handing me a manila envelope with both hands. I took it over to one of the armchairs by the fire and opened it.
When Master and I had spoken on Skype the morning after the interview, he hadn’t been clear about why he wanted me to come here today. What he did say was that I was going to have to make a crucial decision, and asked me a question that made me realize how serious this all was. I knew the answer right away, but he stopped me from saying anything and insisted that I think about it until we met.
He also said that during the interview, I’d not only impressed him, but I’d impressed all the other co-trainers. But he warned me that the other boys would be jealous of me because of it. Apparently, they were going to make my life difficult since they wanted him as their Master and he only wanted one boy: me.
He said how nice it had been to finally fuck me, and that every bit of me now belonged to him, especially my cum. “Don’t forget that, boy,” he said.
Before he hung up, he said, “Find me.” It was the only real direction he gave me for today.
There was a leather hood inside the manilla envelope, which I started to pull out, but then immediately stuffed back in. I looked up at the guy at the front desk who was looking right back at me. I smiled but he kept staring, expressionless.
I analyzed the hood by moving it around inside the envelope: it had holes around the eyes, unlike the one that I’d worn during the interview. It also had a large opening around the mouth. There was a key with a key fob in there too, and a small tag that read “Suite 506.”
I went back over to the front desk, but before I could ask the guy where the elevator was, he pointed the way.
The hallway on the fifth was so silent that you’d think the whole building was abandoned. As lonely as it felt, I could sense that Master was close to me. I put my ear up to door 506; it was just as quiet, so I placed the key in and turned the lock. It made a sharp CLICK. I breathed in, then out, and slowly turned the door handle. I stepped into the dimly-lit vestibule of somebody’s condo.
There was a hall tree to my right with three identical leather jackets hanging off it, and a thick slave collar on the fourth hook. I thought that the jackets could be Master’s and this might be his home, but as I studied them, I noticed they were different sizes. The three sets of identical black leather boots below were different sizes too. What is this? I wondered. I stood there waiting for something to be thrown at me, or to be tied up or gagged, but nothing happened.
Without any instructions, the only thing I could think of to do was remove all my clothes. I figured that the slave collar was for me, too, so after I had put the hood on from the envelope, I wrapped the collar around my neck and buckled it up as tightly as I could so that it was choking me a bit.
Just beyond the vestibule was a hall with two doors on either side at the end. I stepped across the polished floorboards in my bare feet and walked by the first two doors. I looked in each: they turned out to be the kitchen and the dining room.
When I got to the third door on the right, I found who I assumed to be Master. He was by a window at the far end, sitting in a black leather armchair. There was a large floor lamp next to him. It reached around and hung over his head, turned down low so that it cast a shadow over most of his front side.
He was wearing jeans and a leather vest over his bare chest and had an executioner’s hood on so I could only see his mustache and dimpled chin. I looked him right in the eye and that’s when I knew that it was Master for sure, by his domineering gaze.
Then, he said, “You found me, boy.”
“I did, Master.”
“I knew you would.” He hunched over on the arm of the chair so that his right lat, shoulder, bicep, and chest all flexed at once: the sight of his body made me want to burst into a million pieces—it was perfect. Good fuckin’ lord. If that wasn’t enough, he had a thin layer of black hair covering his chest and shoulders. From where I was standing, I could smell his odor; he had a distinctive scent that I’d noticed when he was fucking me during the interview, which was sharp and heady. He’d sent me home smelling of it and I’d refused to shower that night and the following morning, wearing it as long as I could.
“Come closer,” he said.
As I stepped forward, I noticed two boys on either side of me who were naked and in the same hood that I was in, but without the collar. I figured they were going to tie me up like during my interview, but instead, one of them started kissing me. What the fuck? I thought. I jerked my head to get him off, but he kept going at me, so I finally let him, wondering whether this was what was supposed to happen. The other one got behind me and began rubbing my chest.
When I looked over at Master, his face was blank, so I figured that he wanted us to give him a show. I went along with it, moving my lips. Then, Master started smiling, making it much easier to get into. I was doing it for him.
The one behind me was getting hard between my legs. I couldn’t help but get hard as well, in response. The one kissing me got hard too, and then both of them pressed their bodies up against mine, even more, rubbing their dicks against my crotch and ass. I felt like I was being swallowed up by the two. Each had their own potent odor, and their sweat was being smeared all over my body so that it was all I could smell, overpowering Master’s scent.
They were good-looking guys—or at least they had nice bodies—I didn’t know what they looked like without their hoods on. The one behind me had the build of a British rugby player with messy chest hair, and the one in front was leaner and was covered in hair, from his belly to his biceps, shoulders, and back.
The one in front got on his knees and started to suck my dick so good that it felt like it had sunk into a hole of gooey flesh that was scaling my shaft over and over again—“a world class cocksucker,” as Master would say. My head was turned around by the one behind me, who promptly took over kissing me. I was being tag-teamed, propelling me further into this dizziness.
I soon felt like I was going to blow my load, but I remembered Master saying that my cum belonged to him; I understood that I wasn’t to give my cum to anyone else. I placed my hand on the head of the boy down below and pushed him back to get him off me, but he wouldn’t budge. I came out from under the kiss. “Stop,” I said, “I’m gonna cum.”
This got him going even more, and he went at me harder, grabbing each one of my thighs so that I couldn’t move. He was determined to make me cum…
To be continued…
