So given the title does this post continue from the previous? No actually it fits into the time I was doing nudism in the summer with the wanking in the woods and BDSM in the winter (when I wasn’t worried about exposing bruised buttocks cos I was naked).
This was all before I met the “guy there in the woods who was definitely gay ... stayed overnight” with who was called Peter.
But I've pulled it out for a separate post as it was certainly a major experience at this time in my life.
So the time is around 88-89 I had moved on from finding “escorts” in magazine adverts, to premium telephone connections (and then to pay up front phone lines)
Though I believe i contacted him thogh those lines we of course had moved from there to landlines directly and had a longer conversation but I forget many details.
In the conversation it became very clear he was quite dominate, then and subsequently I found out he had a “slave” (submissive?) whose house I was initially directed to and he had his own business something to do with motorbikes.
Also in order to meet him I had to commit to taking 12 strokes of the cane and was required to either bite my nails, or cut them to the quick as he obviously had that fetish/requirement. He also told me my genitals would be shaved. Remember this was a commitment before I’d even seen his picture as this was a phone line and preparatory to a single initial meeting.
Anyway I did all this and turned up at the designated time and place between Purley and Banstead. Even waiting before ringing the bell as I was a little early and didn’t want to earn bad marks against me as I was warned to turn up "on time", neither early nor late!
When I rang the bell, a slim guy opened to door and took me inside to the front room where a saw horse was set out with straps towels etc. He told me his master hadn’t arrived yet and to wait here, remove my clothes and kneel awaiting him.
When the Top arrived he asked his slave if I’d arrived on time and then checked over my hands etc. He was a well build large guy, good looking and with a no-nonsense demeanour!
The Top then proceed to get me to suck lick him – now at this point I need to explain something.
I was a virgin both orally and anally, HIV infections were continually increasing particulaly in gay men and no one knew what exactly was the cause. Stories included poppers being involved, to a virus which had only been named in 1986. Against this background there was a lot of hysteria and misinformation (and indeed non-information) about exactly how infectious it was circulating in the media. So a virgin like me who was you’ll remember awfully shy and nervous was (I see in retrospect) overly cautious and so…
When the Top told me to move onto sucking his cock Idemurred, I would lick it and around it but not take the whole thing into my mouth, nor lick his anal area.
Well he asked me what should happen to me for refusing and of course being punished was the next step. When asked, I suggested 6 strokes, expecting perhaps to get the required 12 either in two batches or maybe get away with 6, But the Top said no 12!
But first he he wanted me shaved around my genitals and called his slave in who did that, and wiped over the shaved area with some aftershave type balm.
I was then tied over the horse with my arms and ankles tied one to each of the four legs
I was helpless.
He then laid 12 strokes across my arse. The first few were painful, they felt full force.
This was no makeshift paddle laid across the moving target of a school boy’s backside, over his pants and trousers; this was a cane, made for the purpose, applied to the presented, immobile, naked arse of a sub, mentally unprepared. never in my life had a felt the cane!
The following number were also full force and must have crossed as there was more pain and where they crossed the cane cut into the skin, one mark let a little blood and a couple of other, less damaged areas, wept plasma.
I almost fainted.
Whether the shock of the pain caused the light-headedness, or the hanging of my head below my knees, or the smell of the aftershave balm … or a bit of all three I don’t know, but the Top released me to recover.
We (the three of us including his slave) chatted while I sat recovering – which I did quite quickly, with topics from HIV and my over cautiousness (he told me a doctor friend of his was up on the latest information and oral sex was not seen as a massive risk), to other areas I don’t really remember: but during our chat I got turned on.
My cock rose (which frankly it hadn’t until now given the cold nature of the interaction and my nervousness) and the Top decided to try something softer and more intimate, and I was instructed to dress and get in my car and follow him on his bike to his place.
By now, as you’d imagine, it was early hours of the morning and he lived next door to his parents so we entered his place quietly where opening his loft hatch, he reached to store his canes etc there and took me to bed.
I was required to lick him and press my nose into his arse crack while he wanked off, I was discouraged from doing anything wank-wise myself and didn’t cum, and so to sleep.
However a few hours later i was awake and frustrated, and I was cuddling up to him and woke him up.
The Top was annoyed at being disturbed after he had got to sleep and decided punishment was needed. As my arse was …. lets say a bit sore, and of course the canes had been put away, he decided that a belt pulled from his trousers and applied 12 times across the backs of my thighs would do.
So I lay face down on his bed driven to tears as his did exactly that while wanking himself off again.
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A few hours later, as it got light, I got up and left – he let me out the door telling me which direction to head for home and I guess went back to bed as it was something like five in the morning. I was never in contact with him again though that was down to me I think as I think he left the decision up to me, I seem to remember I called his slave, the only number I had for him to let him know I wouldn't be returning. But as I say it was a long time ago and it’s all a bit hazy.
The aftermath was that in the short term I was sore in the arse and legs area.
I had a lot of bruising on both areas and my underpants stuck to the drying blood and plasma for a few days till the cuts scabbed over properly.
BDSM was completely off my agenda for years I became more focused on my sun club activities and that led to meeting Peter and his suggestion of a camping trip to Sandbanks,
However…
I’ve probably thought more about that experience with the Biker Top tmore any other single BDSM event in my life. What would have happened if he had been warmer when I arrived, had instead of going for 12 strokes straight off as a punishment, had instead cajoled me to suck him by talking through my fears, and then said 6, then offered his cock again or another number as an alternative, then again perhaps. He’d have got the 12 in probably… but then maybe had my mouth serving him rather than take another 3 or ….
Also perhaps taking the time to reward me by wanking me off, or standing over me while instruting me to wank off under instruction by the time he counted to…. say 10?
Would I then have returned? Would I have become his slave? How would my life have changed?
Even given none of the above – would I have acted differently had he had, say, insisted I stay for another chat in the morning, taken more time to insist we met up for a coffee another time … or indeeed if I'd just been more courageous?
Where would I have been now? Who would I be now?
Sliding doors!
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