Long term gay couple in need of new direction in life
A - H I - P Q - Z Newest Files
I was bored. I had been bored for quite some time, and have done very little about it. In spite of a constant wish to change things, nothing seems to work out according to plan. My best friend is angry with me, but as usual he wont say so to my face. He avoids me and if we should meet haphazardly he is stiff as a flagpole. My roommate bizarre, isnt it, to refer to your lover of fifteen years as your roommate, but that is how our relationship has developed. All right, we are going through some old sex routines every now and then, but whatever happened to invention, to enthusiasm, to passion? Not an extraordinary predicament for an old couple such as ourselves, I guess, but still. It is not that I do not love him. I do, he is mostly fun to be with, and excellent cook, and he has the body of a swimmer and a cock to match. But last time we had an argument the topic was so everyday, so banal, so heterosexual that I came out of feeling contemptous. Of him, of myself, of the whole situation in which we lived. So I was bored. There must be something I can do about it. Richard thats my roommate and I had always had what you might call an open relationship. This means that we had never had the ambition to be monogamous. On the contrary, as long as we played it safe. In that respect, we both trusted each other, and our domestic problems never has been clouded with jealousy. As a matter of fact, we have spent some of our best moments sharing the odd encounters with other men we frequjentley indulged in. During the first years of our relationship, we even invited other guys into our private playroom four a refreshing little orgy. But that whas then, this is now. For whatever reason, Richard seems to have settled for a quiet domestic life with no fringe benefits. He has become, to my mind, too careful for his own good, or at least for mine. Like the incident four years ago, when I had decided to treat him with a surprise and jumped naked into our bed with freshly shaved pubes. That seemed to have turned him off completely, and he wouldnt touch me for a week. I was hurt, and even if he got used to my denuded genitals as time went by I continued shaving, of course some hint of rejection can still be sensed on his part. Me, I got stubborn and have since had my pubic hair permanently removed. This interaction between us has put its mark on our relationships this last few years, with my to feet firmly on the accelerator, his as firmly on the brakes. Not even the fact that my attraction on other guys increased considerably with each new stunt seemed to impress him. He accepted it, if slowly, when I started shaving my head and even got a neat crewcut for himself, but refused playing with my tits when I had them pierced. Strange reaction for a guy who loved titplay both ways and owned what must be the worlds biggest collection of nipple torture instruments, wouldnt you say? So, for the last year or so, besides cruising the usual hangouts, picking up a stranger or two, I have spent ours on the computer, scanning whatever sex sites I could come across. The hetero ones really makes me sad, not two say revulted sometimes. Most of them seem to avoid the joy of sex and concentrate on the girls siliconed cones and exposed groins. The occasional naked mans butt, however firm and hot it may have been, never could overthrow the impression of sordidness of these sites. Then I happened to find the BME. It was not too exciting at first. I mean, I have met a number of tattooed guys before, even with rather advanced pictures ingraved in their skin, and I have contemplated a collection of piercings to match my nipples. Nothing in the BME was news to me, to put it bluntly. But then it hit me. What I found, I think was not so much the diversity of things you could do to your body but the tolerance, or acceptance, that was breathing through the material presented on the site. However extreme, there was not a hint of moralism, of rejection: At first I took to the stories, some of which I found quite exciting, while at the same time some of the photos almost shocked me. But eventually, also the pictures grabbed me with an odd kind of fascination, of the kind that never leaves your mind completely and that in the end starts your imagination running wild. Even though we have had our differences I knew that I had to tell Richard about my findings. You dont leave your man for 15 years totally in darkness about yourself, at least that is what I have always told myself. Honest before safety, perhaps. I knew, of course, that I had to tread with care. A few weeks later, Steve came over and we all were involved in some hot sex until the small hours of the morning. When it comes to modificating your body, Steve was way ahead of me, and oddly enough, Richard did not seem to object, not to Steves thick PA through the tip of his big uncut cock nor to his tattooed back, wearing a black, symmetrical pattern that I had learned was to be called tribal. On the contrary, for the first time I dont know for how long, Richard seemed completely at ease and let himself be worked over quite roughly. My handsome roommate/lover was quite a sight with suction cups working his tits and a dildo up his ass and his uncut cock striving upwards. When Steve leaned forward to tie leather straps around Richards scrotum I thrust my cock into his tempting ass, and we all worked ourselves to an almost simulatenous orgasm. Steve left, leaving us satisfied and exhausted, and I decided that now was the time for a first careful hint at my internet findings. We were both lying in our bed, Richard with his hands cupped over his genitals and me on the side, on my right elbow, watching him. I started talking, tentatively at first, more eagerly when I noticed he was listening, intently. I rose to go to the bathroom and I might be imagining things but I thought I saw a new glimpse in Richards eyes, a change in attitude. At first I mistook it for his usual sceptisism and was more than puzzled when I returned and found him sitting up in bed, looking straight at me, saying something about glad you told me, we need a new start, dont we, did you find all the links to the site He also did not have his hands on his crotch any more. Instead they were firmly clutched around an envelop. I have had this kept in my drawer for quite some time, he said, Go, on, open it. I opened the seal and tore out the papers. Having glimpsed through to contents, I looked straight at him, bewildered. Youll find the details in the appendix, Richard said, smiling. The envelop contained a Slave contract, perfectly drawn and already signed by Richard. There was a dotted line with my name under it, in block letters. I feigned interest while my mind produced a lot of silent questions. So, Richard had his secrets, too. And all these years I had thought he was content with well, a lack of consideration, of empathy on my part. I felt awed by my selfishness, my inability to really see Richard as something else beside a convenient, able housekeeper. I also had doubts about myself in this new situation. Me, a Master? All right, I enjoyed being top for the right guy but also loved rough treatment from anyone so inclined. So, was I really Master material? My doubts would not leave me. I guess I was afraid, scared of not performing or perhaps simply scared of no longer having it both ways. Richard, now a new person to me, of course saw this. Youre the Master to me, he said, the only one I want. There is always Steve and a bunch of others to help you with your other needs. The contract was straightforward and the appendix more than explicit. Richard was for me to own, body and soul, to explore and expand his limits, to modify his body according to my own preferences and taking him, step by step, towards his ultimate goal: to be my eunuch slave for ever. Surprised? Pleasantly, I hope. Richard smiled as he got out of bed and walked to the study, me following like a faithful dog. He put on the computer, connected to the net and said This is one of the links I mentioned. It was called the Eunuch Archive, and was full of stories about men,. Som forcefully castrated, others eager to part with their manhood or searching for someone who wished to take it. And I got hooked. Richard continued performing his usual tasks for a couple of weeks, while I indulged in reading virtually every gay story of the archive. The ones that attracted me most were those dealing with men who voluntarily entered the world of severe body modification, men who actually craved to have their balls cut out. There were stories, too, about chopping off cocks, more or less sophisticatedly. At one point, Richard linked back to the BME, introduced me to a section called Nullo! and showed me pictures of a gray-bearded, tattooed man, smiling and seemingly happy, whose legs came together in a void, his genitals completly removed. Well, I did not have much choice, did I. I decided I wanted to keep the good life boring, OK, but comfortable that Richard and I had led for so long, and the only way to do so was to let him have his way. Still full of self doubt, I signed the contract, giving myself full control of his body and soul and at the same time letting his wishes control my life. The moment I did, my self confidence returned. Suddenly I realized that I could use all my imagination to turn Richard into the perfect slave, the one I never before realized that I needed and the one Richard himself had gradully grown to aspire for. His reluctance to accept my modest body modification initiatives was probably a result of his own struggle with his inner wishes psychogically, I realized, this was equal of a third coming out, or something like that. I put all my effort into the transformation of Richard, and found, along the road, the assistance I needed, sometimes over the net. So, my boredom vanished, and Richard fumed with pride. I had told him I wanted a slave proud of his slavery, proud even in moments when I had to humiliate him in public. I wanted a strong, self confident slave, not a self-pitying wimp. He was quite inventive when we started rebuilding our apartment and turned the largest room into a real dungeon, complete with a small auditorium. Richards emancipation had turned him into a real exhibitionist, and in that respect our wishes coincided. Just two days after I signed the contract I brought Richard to the clinic where I had my pubic hair removed to discuss the best way to rid Richard of his. He was quite furry, a string of hair running from his pubic area to his strong, dark-haired chest. The process would cost Richard a good deal of his savings, but as he stood there, in the doctors office, his proud cock protruding from his crotch, I knew he would not be sorry to part with a small fortune. The hair removal method had improved since I went through mine, laser had been introduced, the whole procedure could be perform much more quickly. When we left the clinic that day, Richard in his torn jeans, boots and black T-shirt, noone but us new that his genitals were completely bare. Three weeks later, clothes could not conceal Richards hairlessness. There was not a single hair on his body, and even the eyelashes were gone. I know the process was not too comfortable because I had taken the opportunity to do my head, too. So far, Richard wore his slave insignia with pride. It seemed as if he was eagerly waiting for the next step, disregarding any pain or discomfort that might be involved. Beside his ususal domestic tasks which he now always performed in the nude, hard cock swagging he fulfilled a hard daily training program, set to keep his muscles trim and defined. His stature became more confident, more free, paradoxically, by the day. For the first tattoo session I had invited a group of rather spectacular people, all selected from ads on the BME. There were a lot of stretched earlobes, split tounges, tattooed bodysuits, even a split cock among them. They all cheered when I brought the hairless but still otherwise intact Richard into the room. He was lain down on his stomach on the leather couch and the tattoo artist entered, brought out his eqipment and went to work. He started around Richards asshole, and at the intrusion of the needle Richards body squivered. He did not make a sound, though. Several sessions later, all witnessed by the same group of body modification freaks, every inch of Richards body was covered with ritual tattoos, black and silver being the dominating colours. If you look closely, the ingeniously design pattern will disclose a trompe loeuil effect. For a fraction of a second you will see that the pattern consists of the word Slave, covering him all over, head and face included. My own newly acquired tattoo was of a more neutral design and covered only my back from the neck down to my butt. So far, at least. In the meantime, I had learned the secrets of piercing, and decided to pierce my slave myself. As body piercing was not on schedule, I concentrated on Richards face. Earlobes to be stretched, later, tongue to be split later, septum and nosewings, upper and lower lip it might come in handy to be able to silence him momentarily with a ring or bar through the two holes. For the next development I had to bring Richard outdoors in broad daylight. Naturally his tattoos, the steel bars through his nose, the ring closing his mouth brought a lot of attention. As did I, presumably because my back tattoo had started to crawl up my skull. I had my buttocks done too, which was a hellish experience, but naturally no passer-by could see the result. In the evening, upon returning home, Richard complained about pain in his jaw. No wonder, since the dental surgeon had replaced his molars with inch-long fangs and reduced all his other teeth to mere stubble. His cock spoke another language, however. His threadbare jeans almost gave in to the pressure from the growing member. It was about to explode when I told him that next time we had an audience I would bring a surgeon, too. I teased him a little, though, because the next session did not involve his castration, not totally, anyway. I wanted to enhance the anticipation factor, for his sake as well as for mine. So, when the surgeon left, Richard was left with three suturs on his upper body, hardly visible among the tattoo designs. The suturs would leave only faint scars of his tits and navel. The sight of Richards tattooed face lowering to recieve my bursting cock in his mouth! The feel of his altered mouth with the fangs flanking my cock and of the bar in his tounge when it started probing under my foreskin Then the day arrived when Richards ultimate transformation was to be performed. He seemed perfectly at ease, even eager. It was then that I realized that he had me trapped. I was supposed to be the Master, the mind behind all that had happened and was going to happen to him. True enough, I had performed, but only according to Richards own wishes, which I had interpreted as my own. I had even in some respect followed in his footsteps, having had all hair removed permanently and every inch of my skin tattooed. Still I had to go along, and the audience watching the surgeon prepare the relocation of Richards urethra to a spot between his legs began to understand the treat that they had been invited to. Some of them had been led naked into the auditorium, held on leashes by their masters. All the slaves, it seemed, had been castrated and a couple of them proudly exposed totally denuded groins. I assisted by slowly entering the catheter through Richards piss slit, gently pushing it down the shaft until it reached his bladder. Then, surprisingly, the surgeon entered Richards unplugged asshole with something that looked like an enema tube but in fact was a surgical instrument. Moments later, the tube was withdrawn, carrying with it Richard prostate gland. Richard, of course, was well aware of what was going on, since the anaesthetic only released him from some of the pain involved, but all you could see was a smile on his face and the whiteness of his buckles as his hand firmly tugged at the leather couch on which he was lying. And now it was time for the visible parts of Richards sexual organs. It was time for him to be totally emasculated, completely my eunuch slave for ever. Then why did he seem to enjoy this more than I did? The scalpel swiftly cut through his scrotum, and in no time at all his balls were hanging freely in their cords. Snip, snap and the two testicles joined the severed scrotum on a steel plate below the operating table. It was now time for his cock to be added to the superfluous meat. Digging deep into Richards groin, the surgeon brought his cock, all of it, also the part that normally was not visible, away from his body, leaving the catheter dangling from an empty groin. Richard had been able to watch the whole procedure and the expression on his face when the surgeon closed the wound, leaving only a small line of neatly performed stitches, was one of utter relief and satisfaction. It was evident that my master status opened a new world to me, sexually, During Richards healing period, several of my new Master friends offered me their slaves, for sexual service and in some cases for more advanced modifications. On one of them, a young guy who had been nullified only two months ago, I was challenged to perform a total tooth nullification as well as an amputation of his toungue, and so I did. Another master wanted his mastership enhanced, and that is how I learned that it was possible to permanently enlarge a persons cock and give it a never-to-soften erection. This kept me quite busy for the period of Richards healing, and then I wanted to direct my attention solely to him. It worked well at first, Richard seemed well adjusted and perfectly prepared to answer to all my demands, sexually or otherwise. Within a few months, however, things seemed to go back to what you might call normal. This meant that I realized I had to take all the initiatives, Richard complied, and afterwards returned to his earlier state of complete docility, of satisfaction with the small, domestic tasks he had performed before our contract was signed. After half a year of being a Master I was bored again. It was not that I did not try to entertain myself. I continued acting the Master to other Masters slaves, I had some incredible sex in the process and even mastered some of the Masters. Excitingly enough, but it was Richard that I wanted. His full attention, his constant servitude and his love. In a way I have to admit that I had all of that. Yet I felt some disappontment in the development of our relationship. I could not blame Richard. It is quite inconceivable to expect of a totally unsexed man to satisfy another by taking sexual initiatives, I knew that. His role was to obey, mine to give orders. Yet I was bored, especially about having to give orders. I discussed my predicament with several of the other masters, who some of them had had trouble adjusting to their roles but finally found a comfortable way to play it. These conversations did not fully convince me. It was not before almost a year that I found the answer. Steve was the one to lead me in the right direction. He did so after a breathtaking threesome in our apartment. I had my swelling cock deeply thrust down Richards throat and my head between his legs, my tongue licking his new pisshole when suddenly Steve grabbed my arms, locked them behind my back and almost ripped my as apart with his thick PAd cock. I felt my body relax, leaning heavily on Richards, my mind in a state of utter confusion, but pleasantly, excitingly. Before he left Steve concluded: Well, its obvious, dont you think? With a good luck he left. AS I was not sure that Richard had noticed what had happened I felt I had discuss my findings with him. His did not answer, just looked at me with an expression of complete well, brotherhood, I guess. We continued making love until dawn and that night he payed full attention to my cock and intensified his ambition to give me full sexual satisfaction. Four weeks later it was Richard who, carefully and with tenderness, removed the stitches from my now emptied crotch. My tits, navel, prostate and my cock and balls ha