Part I
Story by: Mike Miksche
October 2, 2019
I’m sitting at the kitchen counter, swiping through a magazine on my tablet, but my attention is wavering. I’m waiting for a message from Master B., who was supposed to text me at 7:30 to let me know which hotel to meet him at for my training camp “interview.” It’s ten to eight now and I’m starting to wonder whether I’ve been had.
It was the first time that we were supposed to meet in person after three weeks of camming on Skype every day. Actually, I was the one camming and he was watching. After all this time, I still don’t know what he looks like, which sounds crazy when you say it out loud, and fine, maybe it is a bit strange.
He initially messaged on Recon but he didn’t have any photos in his profile. I usually delete messages from people with no photos, but for whatever reason, I didn’t. Anyway, his message said that he was recruiting guys for some sexual training camp, which sounded like a scam, especially when he stressed that if I wanted to join, we needed to talk right away, typing in all caps as an exclamation point. I chuckled but had a bit of time before work so I thought, fuck, why not? I gave him my Skype address, curious about where he was going with all this.
When he called, his camera was off and he said that it needed to be that way until I got into this camp. He made it out like he was part of a secret society that might crumble if ordinary people knew his identity.
His voice was gruff and conjured the image of this strapping, stern man who always gets what he wants. He sounded so confident that you’d think he actually believed the things he was saying.
He explained that this camp provided “high-level training” to prospective subs and slaves. I couldn’t even get the words together to ask him what he meant by “high-level training.” Instead, I nodded my head and kept a straight face, even when he said that many of their recruits in the past were high-profile men: athletes, recording artists, and CEOs. It was probably not the time to tell him that I work at an insurance company call center.
“Have you been trained before?” he asked.
“Um, I had a Dom for a bit who showed me some things,” I said, “but I don’t have much experience beyond that.”
“Do you know how to control your cock?”
“My cock?” Silence. “Not really.”
“Did you ever think that you could control your cock?”
“It hasn’t really crossed my mind.”
“What if I told you that I can control your cock? Would you like that?”
“I don’t know.”
“I think you would. I can tell by the look in your eyes. You’re hard right now just thinking about it, aren’t you?”
I looked down. It’s not that I didn’t know that I was hard, because I obviously did, but it just kind of happened. “I am,” I said.
“Exactly. Stand up and take your clothes off.”
He spoke with such authority that his voice seemed to grab hold of me; I stood up and started to remove my clothes. I’d never done anything like that before (not with someone who didn’t have their camera on too, anyway). I told myself that I was just humoring him. I even laughed a bit like it was a big joke, but he remained silent until all of my clothes were on the ground to one side.
He told me to spread my legs and put my hands behind my head so I did, while I stared at my digital reflection on the computer screen. I was seeing exactly what he was seeing and could almost feel his gaze crawling on my skin. He ordered me to flex the small of my back so that only my ass was moving up and down, independent of the rest of my body. He had to guide me through the first few movements until I got it right because it was a little tricky to move my ass without moving my stomach or legs too much.
Just as I felt a cramp in my lower back, he said, “You’re soon going to notice a pinch in your back.” I didn’t want to admit that I felt it.
He was quiet for a moment and just watched me move. He finally said, “Why do you think I’m asking you to do this?”
“I don’t know.” I chuckled nervously under my breath.
“That’s how you present yourself to your Master.”
“Are you my Master now?”
His laugh was as blunt as a butcher knife. “No,” he said.
It wasn’t really making a lot of sense, and it suddenly crossed my mind that maybe this was all being recorded somewhere and would be used to try to blackmail me. Granted, I had nothing to lose: I don’t talk to my family and my job isn’t great but still, I’d rather it didn’t happen, so I probably should’ve just disconnected and blocked him. At the same time, I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t having some fun. I’ve always been a bit of an exhibitionist and will jump at the chance to take my clothes off in front of others, whether it’s at the change room at my gym, the clothing-optional beach, or wherever. The idea that I was giving this guy a show, even though he might try to extort me, kind of got me going.
He told me to turn around and bend over in front of the camera like a doctor inspecting a patient, except he got me to spread my ass cheeks too, claiming that he needed to see right in there. He seemed satisfied and told me to turn back around. “You like me looking at you, don’t you?” he said.
“Maybe.” I was still hard.
“You’re a nice specimen.” I could hear him smile. “I have another call in a minute so you should jerk off now.”
“Like, right here?”
“Yes. Do it for me, boy.”
When I grabbed my cock, I could feel the sexual sensation move from my crotch to every inch of my body, gushing through my veins. I took a deep breath and held it in for a moment just to cope with the feeling as I began tugging at myself.
I closed my eyes and listened to him telling me how much of a “good boy” I was, and how I was exactly what he was looking for. He even asked me, “Are you my good boy?” and I nodded but he said that wasn’t good enough, that he wanted me to say it out loud.
“I’m your good boy,” I said.
“Louder!”
“I’m your good boy!”
I came in no more than a minute, spilling right onto the floor. He was saying something but I couldn’t really focus on it. I was still coming to.
I opened my eyes and looked down at the mess I’d made. I then lifted my left hand to show him that it was covered in cum. “I should probably clean up,” I said, interrupting whatever he was going on about.
“You did good today, boy,” he said. “Be online tomorrow, at the same time. Got it?”
“Yes,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure that I would be.
“Yes, what?”
“What?” I showed him my hand again as a reminder that I needed to clean up.
“Yes, Sir.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh. Okay. Yes Sir.”
I went about my day after that as I normally do, going to work and fielding questions over the phone about insurance policies for customers. I left right at five and went to the gym, where I met my friend Edwin. We worked on biceps and legs, spotting each other while I listened to him complain about his job. He works at an insurance company too but it’s all he ever talks about because he hates it so much — and I enjoy listening to him as much as he enjoys his job. He’s a good guy but I often wonder why I meet him each day.
When I got home, I took a chicken breast out of the freezer and made a spinach salad to go with it. It’s what I ate the day before and the day before that. I had one more chicken breast in the freezer for the next day too.
I ate dinner in front of the television and watched four back-to-back episodes of a police drama on Netflix that I wasn’t really into, but I just kept watching anyway since I’d already started it. There were enough cheap hooks in the plot to keep me going.
Needless to say, talking to Master B. was by far the most interesting thing that happened to me that day. Hell, it was the most interesting thing I’d experienced in months. So yeah, I woke up earlier than usual the next morning so that I could talk to him again. He was already online when I logged on and messaged me right away: YOU READY BOY?
He got me to take my clothes off and told me that next time I should already be naked when we start. He told me to spread my legs and put my hands behind my head while flexing the small of my back just like the time before. As my ass moved up and down, he explained more about this camp, claiming that there were three other Masters, his “co-trainers,” who ran this place with him and that they were recruiting 25 young subs from New York, Boston, and Montréal to serve “with purpose and skill.” He said that if I got in, I’d be pushed to my limits, having to endure things like heavy bondage, brutal beatings and, from time to time, a milking machine that would suck me dry for hours. The milker sounded kind of sci-fi to me, but I looked it up later and it turns out that these things really do exist.
We began talking every morning after that at the very same time. I liked getting naked for him and it was amusing to hear him tell more tales of this training camp. If nothing else, I was impressed with how detailed his accounts of the place were, and I wondered whether he wrote this all out somewhere and studied it to keep all the facts straight.
I found myself looking forward to our morning dates; his voice became the soothing sound of escape from the mundane. He never skipped a beat with his storytelling, building more layers onto this fabled training camp each time. I started to think about how cool it would be if a place like that really existed. Soon, I got so into the fantasy of it all that I began wondering whether he was telling the truth. I mean, is it possible for someone to construct such an intricate lie?
I decided that I needed to find out if this place was real, so I suggested that we finally meet in person. He insisted that we could only meet at my interview and only when I was ready for it. When I asked him when that would be, he simply said, “Be patient.” I promised that I would be.
During our time together online, he wouldn’t just talk about the camp; he would teach me different exercises to improve my core body strength so that I could handle some of the more strenuous fucking positions I’d have to endure during the interview. His voice became like hands; I could feel them on my body as he spoke, contorting me in ways I didn’t think possible.
He also taught me how to cum four times in a row, which you hear about people doing, but I didn’t think was real. He was so proud when I finally got it but the strange thing is, I don’t think he got off on any of this. I really believe that he wanted to make me better and I wanted to be better for him. As stern as he was, there was a tenderness in him too that came out when he was pleased with me.
“You’re going to make all the other boys at camp jealous,” he said.
“What about after camp?” I asked. “What happens when we’re done?”
“I already told you, boy. Don’t you remember?”
“I’m sorry, Sir. I must’ve forgotten,” I said, even though I was pretty sure he hadn’t told me.
“It’s okay, boy. I know it’s a lot to take in. When you’re done camp, we pair you up with a Master who will compliment your skill level.”
“Oh.” Silence. “Do you have a boy?”
“What do you think?”
“I assume you have many.”
“I don’t have a boy.” More silence. “Are you surprised?”
“I guess so, Sir.”
“Is there something else you’d like to ask me, boy?” He sounded hesitant and he was never hesitant.
“Can I be your boy?”
He laughed. “I’ve already decided that. I knew that you were special the moment I saw you. And we have this bond; you can feel it too, can’t you? Am I right?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“How does that make you feel?”
“I can’t even explain it, Sir.”
“It’s not ‘Sir’ anymore. You will call me ‘Master’ from now on.”
“Okay, Master.”
“This is what you were always meant to be, boy. One day you’ll know exactly what I mean.”
He said that when we eventually lived together, I was to be naked from the moment that I got home until I went to work the next morning. I’d go to sleep with his cock inside me, wake up with him inside me, and I was to follow him around the house, no matter where he went, to serve him.
“How does it feel to know I need you day and night?”
“It’s incredible,” I said.
“This is who you are. Do you understand that?”
“I think so, Master.”
The only way that we could be together though, was if I did well at the interview. “And do you know what?” he said.
“What, Master?”
“You’re ready for your interview.”
My phone suddenly vibrates in my pocket, startling me and taking me away from my thoughts. It’s a text message that pops up on my tablet too. It’s from Master B. He didn’t abandon me: Meet me at the Hilton, room 819. 9 p.m. The door will be slightly open and the lights off. You’ll be blindfolded once you get into the room. You have to trust me, boy.
TO BE CONTINUED…