Interview in room 819
Story by: Mike Miksche
January 15, 2020
My stomach was in knots as I walked down Boylston Street towards the Hilton Hotel on Dalton. I was on my way to meet Master B. for the first time after camming with him on Skype for the last three weeks. I still wasn’t sure what he looked like, and I probably wasn’t going to find out tonight. He said that I would be blindfolded for my training camp interview. I had never been the sort of person who’d meet up with strangers under these types of circumstances—it was a bit crazy and dangerous I’m sure—but I was willing to get chopped up into a million pieces in that hotel room if that meant finding out whether this training camp that he had talked so much about was real. I had to know whether he was real too, or if it was all a big scam.
I got to the hotel a couple of minutes early and went right for the elevator, passing tourists and businessmen checking in at the front desk. I wondered whether any of them could sense that I wasn’t supposed to be there. I tried to be as inconspicuous as I could be until I got into the elevator. The doors closed, silencing the murmur. I rose quietly to the eighth floor.
Rooms 810 to 826 were around the corner from the foyer where I got off. Before I turned, I sent a quick text to my friend Edwin, and lied, saying that I was hooking up with some random at the Hilton. I mentioned room 819, and “joked” that if I got murdered, he’d know where to find me.
He wrote back right away: LOL! Slut!
The door to Room 819 was open just a bit, like Master said it would be. I waited a moment though, since it was one minute to nine. I wanted to show him how punctual I could be, and when the time changed, I took a deep breath and stormed into the room. It felt like I was diving off a cliff, unsure how deep the waters were down below. The door clicked shut behind me and I found myself engulfed in darkness. No matter how wide I opened my eyes, all I could see was black.
I reached behind me and patted the door until I found the handle. It was the only tangible thing, visible by touch alone. I gripped it tightly in my palm; my body was telling me to get out, that this was my last chance, but my determination
weighed me down like a stone tied around my waist.
Two sets of hands grabbed me from either side, squeezing so hard that it felt like my heart had leapt out of my chest. As they guided me forward, I closed my eyes in an effort to calm myself but it made no difference. Whether my eyes were open or shut, it all looked the same—the seamlessness of it made me freak out. There was no escaping, no matter what I did, so I widened my eyes again, giving it another try, hoping that I could at least make out who or what was in the room. But still, nothing. They must’ve taped up the windows because the darkness was so thick that there was no seeing through it.
One of the sets of hands began tugging at my shirt. I realized they were attempting to remove it so I let them, while more hands fiddled with my belt until it was undone. My pants were lowered and I stepped out of each leg. My socks and underwear were removed too and when I was fully naked, the hands disappeared.
“Relax, boy, relax.” It was Master; despite how gruff his voice was, it was so soothing to hear it in that darkness, unmuffled by my computer speakers. It ironed out at least some of my nerves. “Just relax. It’s okay.”
Before I could respond, a leather hood was pulled over my head and laced up tightly at the back, putting pressure on my face. It had no slots for my eyes, as though it was erasing who I was. There was just a cut out at the mouth, hardly big enough for my tongue to stick out, and two tiny holes under each nostril that were obstructed by the smell of leather hide. I was expecting to be blindfolded like Master had said but I thought that it would’ve been nice to get some warning about the hood. I can get claustrophobic—it was like having a cage over my head. I became convinced that I was going to suffocate so I gasped and said, “I can’t breathe.”
“You can breathe just fine, boy, if you would only relax.”
I took a deep breath, in and out, and then another and another, trying to calm myself. Through the seams of the hood, I could see some sort of light turn on, pointing right at me. I was centerstage of something but I couldn’t see anything else. I kept breathing, trying to keep a calm rhythm.
“How does it feel to be in the same room as your Master?”
I tried to get out a “Good,” but choked on my word.
“What?” he chuckled.
I took two more long breaths. “Good,” I was able to say.
“Louder, boy, so they can all hear you.”
It took everything I had to shout, “Good!”
“That’s my boy. See,” he said as an aside to somebody, “told you.” There was more whispering. “Step forward. Come to me.”
I held my hands out and took baby steps while subtly patting the air so that I wouldn’t trip over anything. I finally met Master’s hands but he grabbed my forearms instead to lead me to him. I could’ve cried to finally feel his touch; even though we had never met before, I felt like it was an extraordinary reunion.
“It’s me,” he said.
“I know.” I tried to angle my head so that I could see him through the seams but it was impossible.
“Are you okay, boy?” For a moment, his voice was different than it was before like he didn’t want anyone else to hear us. It was just him and me.
“Yes, Master.” He couldn’t see my smile beneath the hood but it stretched across my face. I stood up, back straight to show that I could do this.
“That’s my boy.” He went behind me and pressed his naked chest against my back, his soft chest hair bracing my skin. I felt myself sinking into him, wishing that our skins could meld together. I was ready for him to take me away from life as I knew it.
“They need to see you. Show them your beautiful body, boy.” He stepped back, letting me go, but I still held onto him with my ears, listening as he quietly said something to someone. I turned my head towards his sound, then heard him say, “Present yourself to me, boy.”
I spread my legs exactly how I had been taught and put my hands behind my head. I flexed the small of my back so that my ass moved up and down, independent from the rest of my body. I found a perfect rhythm; I was a machine programmed by his instructions.
“Magnificent,” he said, speaking to his audience. “He’s been practicing.”
He was behind me again with his chest to my back. “You didn’t think I was real, did you?” he whispered.
I didn’t want to dwell on my doubt. “You’re real,” I affirmed and leaned into him more, finding a cozy spot in his chest. I noticed that his cock was out, and hard, so I slid my ass cheeks along his shaft, sort of petting it worshipfully as I continued the movement that he had taught me.
“Is he one of them?” I heard a man say.
Master put his hands on my shoulder and squeezed. “No, he’s one of us.”
“Are you sure?”
“He-is-one-of-us.” He was stern, daring them to question him again.
“Show us,” someone else said.
“Show them,” Master sneered and shoved me to the ground carelessly. I hit my head against what felt like the leg of a sofa and was all mixed up. Hands began tying my arms behind my back with rope until I was entangled in a web of knots, but I tried to stay cool, trusting in Master and this interview process.
He leaned in close to me. “You want me to fuck you, don’t you?” he said loudly. It sounded as though I was being mocked but I wasn’t sure if he was just putting on a show for them, one that I needed to play along with. “I can’t hear you!” He smacked the back of my head. “Are you going to prove that you deserve to be with the other boys at camp?”
“Yes.”
“’Yes’ you want to be fucked, or ’yes’ you’re going to prove that you deserve to be with the rest of the boys at camp?”
“Both.”
“Are you sure, boy?”
“Yes!”
He smacked my head again. “Yes, what?”
“Yes, Master.”
He came in even closer and whispered, “Show them, boy, for us.”
I was lifted up and hung over the arm of a sofa so that my ass was in the air. My face was stuffed in the cushions. I had to turn my head so I wouldn’t suffocate (for real this time).
What felt like a leather strap began caressing my skin, circling each cheek. He whacked me hard with it and I tried to swallow the pain, but Master continued going at me again and again. Now, the pain was galloping so fast that I couldn’t keep track of it.
I flinched when he placed his palm on my bare ass. “There’s so much heat coming from it,” he said.
I rolled my forehead along the cushions to help alleviate the pain as it kept evolving.
“How many more do you want, boy?”
It took me a moment to realize that he was talking to me but then I said, “10,” giving what I thought was a substantial
number.
“Fine,” he said. “Legs down, boy! Legs down, I said!” WHACK! He went even harder than before; my entire body was covered in sweat with that single blow. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! I buried my head deeper into the sofa cushions and started sobbing, but I still flexed my body, ready for more. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! My sobs were out of my control, the tears collecting between my eyebrows and the leather. “Nine!” Master said. “Ten!”
I was crying so hard that my body was shaking.
“Let it out, boy,” Master said. His voice was spinning around me. “I knew you were one of us.” He moved behind me and before I knew what was what, he had thrust his dick inside me. I’d always struggled when bottoming, needing to take it in slow, but the scene was like a hit of poppers. I had no problem taking him all in, like a quick gulp.
He didn’t pump his hips; he just held his dick inside of me. “There will be a day that you’ll feel incomplete when you don’t have my cock inside you,” he said. “Remember that, boy.”
He undid the rope to let my arms free. He told me to put my hands behind my head and to move the small of my back again. He wanted me to fuck him using my ass, but I felt like I had nothing left. “Go on, boy,” he said. “Show them who you are. Who are you?” I was silent, so he filled in the blank: “You’re your Master’s boy. Do you hear that? Show them.”
I placed my hands behind my head and flexed my arms so that my back curled a bit, but immediately collapsed. “Again,” he said, so I did, and this time, I was able to hold the flex. I lifted myself off the sofa a bit and his cock slid even deeper inside of me. He sighed with relief. “That’s my special boy.”
The more he told me how special I was, the more strength I was able to muster. I pushed the limits of my body and became the superhuman he needed me to be. I was able to go deeper and deeper with each thrust—so deep that I felt Master all the way into my fingertips. I wanted to explode into a million pieces but he made it clear during one of our camming sessions earlier that week that we couldn’t cum during the interview—it was against the rules. Still, he let me work his cock with my ass for what could have easily been 30 minutes? An hour? Two hours? I wasn’t sure. Time and space had been eradicated and I was free-falling into his grip.
“That’s enough,” he said suddenly. His voice snapped me out of the trance I’d fallen into. I figured he was about to cum. My body collapsed back onto the sofa. “You’ve done well. Very well.” He slipped his cock out and gave my ass a light slap. “Tomorrow, boy. Be online. Don’t be late.” He was still trying to catch his breath. “We’re done!”
I was grabbed from either side and led back to the front door. They put my clothes on and before they removed my hood, one of them, a young man who had a thug-like lisp, told me to keep my eyes shut and to not turn around. He sounded mean.
He opened the door and shoved me out. I was blinded by the light in the hall and almost tripped over myself. My shirt was backward and my hair was sweaty and standing on end. Before I could turn back around to see who these people were, they slammed the door and I was ejected back into the real world.
TO BE CONTINUED…