Tuesday, 1 November 2011

How I Got Here

    Becoming a Sadist isn't something you really think about,it's not a calculated thing.In fact at first I doubted that I fitted the criteria,but as time goes on I begin to realise that it is something deep within me,a part of my personality that I cannot deny exists,even if I wanted to.
     There is no shadow of doubt in my mind that he has brought it out in me.Before we met it was a casual daydream rather than a deep seated need,now whenever I look at him,when I take in the delectable curve of his back,the neat muscular shoulders.I hanker to inflict pain upon him,to break him and hear him sob.As much as anything I suppose it is because I know that to offer his total submission to me is so hard for him to do,quite possibly this is more on a psychological level than a physical one.
     His obedience doesn't buy him any credit with me.I am not that kind of Master.What I do to him isn't motivated by wanting to punish him for anything he has or hasn't done,it is the sheer pleasure that hurting and controlling him gives me.It's completely unlike anything else I have ever known.
     The  pleasure begins long  before we even meet.Reclining in a hot,soapy bath the thoughts of what lies ahead come to me and my cock rises out of the water.Lacing on the wonderfully comfortable hand made boots over my tight leathers continues the process.By the time I draw up the zipper of the skin tight jeans the scene is under way,my cock now semi-erect,nestles neatly down,creating a bulge in the gleaming black leather just above my right thigh and before long the juice begins to flow.The sensuous feel of my erection is wonderful.Maintained over a period of time the seeping juice creates a little damp patch on the surface of the taut black leather that pinpoints the spot where eventually the spunk will spill out like a fountain, but for now it is contained.
     The dressing continues.A torso hugging black leather vest with narrow straps that display my powerful shoulders goes on next.Two thousand strokes a day in the pool maintains their condition and has created the right curves in the right places.I feel alive in a way I never did before he came.The exercise of dressing now gains purpose as I continue to create that  vision of a Master that he knows he has no alternative but to offer his total submission to.
      I strap on the studded wrist protectors,foot long leather tubes that run from the cuffs of my gloves at the wrist up to the elbows.They look gladitorial,the black leather contrasting with my bare upper arms.Finally the face mask.Soft black leather moulds itself to the shape of my head,leaving just the lower half of my face  and my eyes exposed.The effect is theatrical to an extent,but no less potent for all that.Most men who have been confronted with a man wearing one of these masks have either had but minutes to live or were on their way down to a dungeon where the prospect of death would soon be viewed as the best option compared to the remaining life that was filled with  agony.Limbs torn from the body on a rack,flesh burned with red hot irons,these deeds carried out with relish by a strong,sadistic man dressed in such a manner.
    I love and savour the fear it engenders in him to see me in such attire,and this is,I suppose,part of my finely honed sadism,crafted perfectly to his psyche and designed for me to extract the most from him.I am fully aware of the image I have created and similarly as I walk slowly along the corridor that leads to his room I realise that he will be alert to the sound of each footstep.The strong morning sunlight from tthe windows I pass reflects in brilliant mobile pools on the surface of the leather and every time my boot sole makes contact with the floor it sends out a message for him to hear.A message that says that his time is running out.
    I enter his room and take in the now familiar scene.It is no less arousing for it's familiarity.I take in his head,the face pressed obediently to the bare floor in the manner in which he has been trained to do.The black leather slave collar with it's silver steel D rings is in place with it's leash attached at the throat,the looped handle gripped between his teeth just as he has been taught that his Master requires of him .His feet are spread out wide apart behind him in the neat calf  length boots and the only other item of clothing he wears is the soft black leather pouch that cups his balls and just about contains his now erect cock.Despite his growing fear the eroticism of his situation isn't lost on him.
    Casually I step up to place a boot just beneath his face and,without any further prompting he leans forward to caress the leather with his tongueOnce again his actions are those of a slave who has been perfectly trained to please.I cannot contain my pleasure at this and bend forward to massage his skull with my gloved hand.The action conveys to him the assurance that whatever he is about to suffer his Master loves and cherishes him.The contradiction is an obvious one but he understands it as well as I do.Love isn't just about kisses,caresses and embraces.It can equally be the kiss of the whip,the caress of an accurately wielded singletail and the embrace of the sturdy leather straps that hold him in a vice like grip while he receives the punishment that will take us to the very brink of ecstasy even as the cruel leather tail cuts crimson lines in his flesh.
     I take the handle of the leash and give it a gentle tug.He gets the message that I send and his mouth follows my long legs upwards until he arrives at  the leather crotch wiith it's now very obvious bulge.His soft  kisses feel good enough through leather but when I release my cock and his lips eagerly encircle the head the pleasure explodes throughout my brain.His eager tongue is working hard now,flicking a bead of sweet pre cum from the tip of my cock he swallows it greedily.He knows that all of Master's bodily fluids are for him and him only.My head is thrown back in pleasure as he stimulates me in a way that nobody before has ever quite managed,my cock engorged to such an extent that it feels it must burst.Reluctantly I withdraw from his mouth and zip my cock back beneath the leather carapace,for now.
    I need to hurt him,to hear his sobs of frustration as he realises that the only way he can ease the exponentially increasing pain that I intend to inflict upon him is to beg.And I know that this has the ability to hurt him as much as the pain does.As I lead him down to the dungeon on all fours I know how the spider feels as he wraps his prey in the web,the erection once more throbs between my legs.

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