Big-Eared Master - Part 1

Author: Thomas de Sade T_de_Sade@hotmail.com

Many people have asked me how I became a master.  I have decided to tell my early story now.  It is true, though a few minor details have been altered to preserve my identity

      It was 1971. I was 26 years old and in graduate school in the San Francisco Bay area.  I had signed a lease for an apartment in Oakland and put up notices for someone to share the apartment.  Another graduate student, John, who was a couple of years older than me came by to look at it and decided it was just right for him.  He seemed like a nice guy and I decided to try.  I warned him that I was bisexual and having some gay relationships  if that bothered him, he should look for another place.  He blushed and I could tell that he was probably gay, but I doubted that he'd had much experience.  Things might have turned out a little different if I had told him that I didn't want to get involved with a housemate--then again they might not have been different.

     John had short curly black hair, a round face with a smile that covered a bit of shyness.  He was 5'10" tall and weighed about 190 pounds--a little overweight and a little out-of-shape.  I was 6'0" tall and weighed 180 pounds and was in very good shape, swam and worked out in the gym almost every day.

     We got along very well from the beginning.  I set some basic groundrules about cleaning, shopping and cooking.  He was very agreeable to them.  It was clear from the beginning that he liked having others make decisions.  He would follow any reasonable ones.  I always did my share of the work, but would sometimes make suggestions for him to do something--he would smile and do it.

     After he was there for only a week, it became clear that he had a crush on me, but was too shy to say anything.  For some reason I decided not to confront the issue.  Without asking, he kept giving me openings to talk about my gay relationships, but I just smiled inwardly and ignored them.  I thought I'd wait until he'd been there about a month--then we'd talk about it.

     About 2 weeks after he arrived, I got a letter from a guy who I'd met in Los Angeles who wanted to visit me.  John was sitting at the kitchen table when I read it.  I told him that I would have to decide in the next couple of days whether I should see the fellow.  John asked me about him.  I smiled and said that I'd known him when I was an undergraduate and we'd had a brief affair.  "The letter," I said, "recalls the affair.  He'd like to start it up again, but I'm not sure.  I wouldn't want him to move in with me, anyway, so it won't impact on you."

     I then walked out of the kitchen to a small room I was using as an office and put the letter in the top drawer of my desk.  From what followed later, John must have seen me put the letter there.  Actually I had the habit of keeping old letters in my desk drawer--from parents, friends, even from my aging grandmother.

     The next day I said goodbye to John and hurried off to meet my advisor.  Waiting on the streetcorner for the bus, I remembered that I'd forgotten to put the latest pages of my dissertation in my briefcase.

     I returned to the apartment.  I must have come in quietly. When I looked in the office, I saw John reading something at my desk through the open door.  I stood there, puzzled, just watching him.  Maybe thirty seconds passed.  He suddenly looked up and saw me watching him, dropped the piece of paper on my desk, turned red, and immediately said, "Thomas, I'm sorry."

     I suddenly realized that he'd been reading my letter.  I stood there furious.  I had never read anyone's private mail and couldn't believe that John would do such a thing.  Seething, I walked toward him slowly.  He was backed against the desk.  I grabbed him by his t-shirt and stared into his eyes.  Neither one of us said anything.  I cocked my arm to hit him in the face.  He was shaking badly, but made no attempt to put up his guard.  Instead of hitting him, I took him by the shirt and shoved him onto the floor.

     "Please pack up your stuff and get the hell out of this apartment in an hour."

     "Sir, I've never done anything like this before.  I'm really ashamed and very sorry, sir."

     I noted that he called me "sir."  That seemed very strange at the time, since he was 2 years older than me and had always called me "Thomas" before.

     "Please, punish me, but don't throw me out.  I'll do all the cleaning of the apartment for the next month.  I'll wash all the dishes.  Anything.  I've never had such a great roommate.  And I'm totally ashamed.  I'll do whatever you say."  He was still laying on the floor.

     I still said nothing.  I walked to the doorway of the office that lead into the kitchen.  The phone was on the wall just outside the office door.  I continued to stare at him, lying on the floor, trembling.  I picked up the phone and dialed my department at the university.  "Please tell Dr. ____ that I'm unable to make our appointment today.  I need to take care of a personal crisis.  Please reschedule it as soon as possible at his convenience.  I'll be available anytime next week."

     I hung up the phone and slowly walked back to John.  "Please stand up, John."

     John stood up.  He was shaking like a leaf.  I stared at him.  He looked away.  "Please look at me John."  When he looked back, I posed a question to him.

     "John, will you accept whatever punishment I devise?"

     Without a second's hesitation, he answered simply, "yes sir."

     "The punishment will include both a whipping and public humiliation, John.  You violated me, John.  Will you accept that?"

     "Yes, sir.  I've never been whipped before."

     I didn't tell him that I'd never whipped anyone before.  In fact this was quite new to me, but I could feel my cock getting hard in my jeans.  I wanted to think a little more about this.

     I took John by the elbow and led him into the kitchen.  "Please take off all your clothes and kneel down on the floor with your hands behind your neck.  Do not move out of my line of site.  I'll be watching you from my desk.  I want you to fold your clothes neatly and put them on this chair."  I moved a chair out from the kitchen table.

     I went back and sat at my desk and watched John comply.  My cock was straining against my jeans.  I knew I'd have to get myself under control.  I thought about my options and began to devise a plan.  I sat at the desk and planned my moves carefully.  I didn't want to act out of anger, but very much wanted to punish John.

     John kneeled there for 15 minutes.  I had taken my thick leather belt out of my jeans.  I rose and walked toward him, holding the belt in my two hands.

"Please look into my eyes, John.  This is the last time I will give you the choice.  Please don't say anything until I'm done speaking.  I have decided that your punishment will last for one week--7 days.  You will be thrashed 4 times, every other day, beginning now.  On the other days, we will go out and you will be publicly humiliated.  You may accept this punishment or you may leave this apartment.  Think carefully about your decision."

     I cracked the doubled belt in my hands and continued looking at him.  He was was trembling badly, but I noted that his cock was getting hard.  I saw him look down at it and he turned red.  But when I cracked the belt a second time, his cock stiffened even more.

     "I will take your punishment,"  he murmured.

     "John, I can't hear you.  What did you say?"

     "I will take your punishment," he said more loudly.

     "For this week, John, I am your master.  You will always address me as 'Sir.'  What did you say?"

     "I will take your punishment, sir" he repeated.

     I stood in front of him, holding the belt out in front of me.  "Please kiss the belt, John."

     He kissed it.

     "Now please stand up."  As he got up, I saw that his cock was dripping with precum and throbbing.  I lightly touched it and it exploded in my hand.  His whole body shook and he gasped.

     "I'm sorry sir.  I couldn't help it, sir.  Please sir."

     I smiled for the first time.  "John you need to learn to control yourself, but I'm pleased that your new master excites you so much.  I'm not going to punish you for that--that is natural.  But I am going to punish you for rifling my desk and reading my private letters."  I held my hand up to his mouth.  "But please lick my hand clean, John."

     I continued to talk as he licked my hand.  "It's probably just as well you ejaculated, John.  I don't want anything to distract you from your whipping."

     I led him over to the small, square kitchen table that had a pink oilcloth as a cover.  The color of that oilcloth and the color of John's red bum are burned indelibly in my mind.

     "Please lean over the table, John, and grab the legs with your hands."  I had never whipped anyone before and was not sure how many lashes I should give him, but I wanted him to know, to wonder if he could take them all.  "I will give you 8 lashes with the belt for your first whipping John."

     I remember putting the doubled belt on his ass, standing and taking careful measure.  "John, after each blow, I want you to say, 'I will never read anyone's private mail again.'"

     His ass quivered.  I liked seeing him in this position and had no desire to hurry his punishment.  Suddenly I drew back and with moderate strength cracked the belt across his ass.  He gasped and I saw a red mark begin to form across his ass.  I decided I'd work all areas until every part of his ass and outer thighs were red.

     I hadn't thought much about position.  John was hunched over the table.  I could see that I needed a better target.  "John, I want you to straighten your legs, and move your feet apart."  He was already sobbing, but complied immediately.  "What did I tell you to say after each blow, John?"

     "I will never read anyone's private mail again, sir."

     I put the belt on his ass.  I decided that it wouldn't do to make it lighter.  I would even make it a little harder than the one before.    WHACK.  John involuntarily jumped up.

     "John, if you don't stay in position, I will have to give you some extra blows."  I did not have to remind him to say he wouldn't read anyone's private mail.

     The third blow was not a direct hit and didn't do much damage.  I had been a little too quick and didn't take my measure.  I've never made that mistake again in all the whippings I've administered.

     I purposely made the fourth blow lighter than the first two, but John didn't seem to realize it and was crying hysterically.

     Blow 5 caught him right on the underside of his ass, partly into his thighs--maybe even a little on his balls.  He howled.  And he began to plead.  "Please sir, I'll never do read anyone's private mail.  Please sir, I can't take any more.  My ass is on fire sir.  Please."

     I wondered if 8 were too many, but would not show any mercy.  "If you don't stop your whining, I'll give you two extra, John.  I'm deadly serious."  He went silent.

     Numbers 6 and 7 went to the outer areas of both cheeks.  While John sobbed loudly, I knew that he could bare them.  I was determined that number 8 is one he would never forget.

     I took careful measure right in the middle of his ass, which was the reddest area.  My cock was throbbing with excitement.  I held the belt there and positioned myself at exactly right angles facing his side.  I stared at the spot I would hit.  I wouldn't take my eyes off the target--a little like playing golf, I thought--never let your eyes stray from the ball.  I suddenly whipped the belt back and as hard as I could on his ass.  It hit perfectly, the sound reverberating in the kitchen.  John screamed and jumped up, putting his hands on his ass.

     I waited about one minute, until I knew John could again comply with my commands.  That last blow had left a very serious welt.  Please stand and put your hands behind your neck.  I don't remember your saying anything after the last blow, John.  "I will never ever again read anyone's private mail, sir."

     Please kiss the belt again, John, and tell me how grateful you are for your punishment.

     With tears streaming down his cheeks, John kissed the belt and said, "Thank you sir for letting me stay.  And thank you for punishing me, sir."

     Tomorrow there will be a very different kind of punishment, John.  Be prepared to go out with me at 8 p.m. tomorrow.  And you can look forward to another whipping the day after tomorrow."

     I very gently touched his cheek and lightly kissed his forehead.  "John, I really like you and am glad tht you decided to stay.  But that will not lessen my punishment for the next 6 days.  Now sit here and we'll have a cup of coffee together."

     I watched him very cautiously sit at the kitchen table, trying to hide the pain on his face.  I decided that another whipping in a couple days would be too soon, so I would do some serious tit torture instead.

(I will continue to tell my true story, only altering a few nonessential facts.  In a few more days I'll post John's second day of punishment.)