Indian Gay sex story — Computer friend

I had met him on the computer bulletin board. Usually I just chat with the other board subscribers, but he was different.

He knew what he wanted. He verbalized it. If I was to describe his conversations in retrospect, two words come to mind – firm, definitely firm, and demanding. In early conversations he asked a lot of questions. Hundreds. What do I look like? What do I do? What are my interests? What is the diameter of my neck? After the questions, instructions started to follow. Once, I asked if we could keep our mail private. His reply was simple and straightforward, no.

Usually I prefer top. I’m an aggressive sort, and it leaves me in control to call the shots. If I don’t like what’s happening, I can change it. With him, there was never any choice. He lead, I followed. As I began to perform and report on his orders, I noticed my cock started to remain hard longer and more often. I would find myself daydreaming about him at work, at parties, at the bar. I found myself avoiding my tighter dress pants.

He played with my head for about three weeks. Without ever meeting me, he affected my life. I dutifully recorded everything like he asked, even my caloric and fluid intake. I listed my bathroom visits. I logged my sleep. When he asked me to start measuring my urine output, something inside of me knew. He was studying me to an intense degree. Before I ever laid eyes on this man, he would know me. Perhaps better than I knew myself.

It was Thanksgiving that he left the message I was seeking.

Almost as an afterthought, he put it in a P.S. It was his usual style. Simple, straightforward. Leave the weekend of December 1st open. Just that one sentence started and kept my dreams and fantasies flying. During the last week in November, the commands were intense. My bathroom rights were restricted, no longer my choice, my hours were limited. Friday, December 1st was outlined for me to the smallest detail. From the time I arose, to how I was to dress.

He made two promises to me. He would not permanently harm my body, at least not on purpose, and he would not change my appearance provided I was wearing normal clothing. The caveats on those two promises both caused me concern, and kept my interest.

My bladder was quite full when I hopped into my car. He instructed me to consume 32 ounces of coke between 4:00 and 4:15 PM, and another 16 ounces at 5:00. It was now 6:15, and I was to follow his directions to his home. I was to consume another 16 ounces on the way over. He gave me permission to put plastic on my car seat, but only if necessary. He had also made it clear that if I arrived dirty, there would be a price to pay. As I made my way through the traffic, all kinds of thoughts kept crossing my mind. When was I coming back? To what extreme did this man practice? What really did I know about him? He had fine tuned my sexual desires so strongly that there was no turning back.

This didn’t mean I wasn’t having strong second thoughts.

His house was easy to locate. An ordinary two story home in sprawling metropolis. The window shades were drawn, the house looked dark, but the porch light was on. Again, his instructions were clear. Park your car around the back of the house, out of view, enter the front porch, ring the bell, wait. I did as I was instructed. It surprised me when I heard his voice. I was a little scared; I had wanted to view this man. Instead, he was communicating over a speaker mounted the door. Crisp, clearly, he told me what I should do. I followed the orders almost instinctively. I took off my shirt, my sneakers, and my socks. I stood at attention, but clasp my hands behind my back. The cold night air caused me to shiver as I waited, clad only in my jeans. I wondered if any of those passing by took notice.

The door finally opened, and I entered his home. The furnishing were simple, there were dishes in the sink. No decorator, no air of pretense, but it definitely was him. The air was warm. The house smelled of man and leather. And he was standing there. He was close to what I had pictured. Early forties, tight stomach, tough. Handsome. Hard eyes. Yet something else was there. I felt I could trust him.

Almost instantly on entry, he handed me two leather wrist restraints and had me put them on. After handing him my jeans, ankle restraints were next. He went in the next room taking my jeans away, leaving me standing. When he returned, he had four miniature padlocks. Deftly he tightened each restraint I had buckled one notch tighter, and snapped the padlocks in place.

He had made it clear in earlier conversation that these restraints were my new clothes, that their D rings were his connection, that these were my symbolic surrender of control.

Boy did it make me feel hot. He next fastened the two wrist restraints together behind my back.

Of course my cock remained rock hard at full attention, occasionally throbbing. He slapped it once, then grabbed it firmly. Leading me through the house, we went towards the back door. At first I didn’t understand. It was very cold outside.

Where were we going? Was I going to spend time in the yard again? He led me out back, and over to some steps I hadn’t noticed before. Three small steps down to a basement door. The concrete was cold on my feet, but he had maneuvered behind me, and pushed me forward. He stopped me in front of the door; I noticed its windows were painted black. I felt his right hand leave me as he reached up and grabbed something dark from behind a rock. I felt and smelled the leather slide over my head, felt the restriction as he fastened it in place, felt the second skin conforming to my face. It was full bottom’s hood, no eyes, no mouth, only a nose opening. It covered beyond my neck, had a small bib over my shoulders. That was the last of my right to see what was going on. After he was satisfied the hood was fitted properly, he unlocked the door, and we went inside.

Without vision, I was totally at his mercy as he lead me through what I imagined to be a small front room. He stopped me in front of another door, and fumbled a little as he unlocked it. I felt a certain degree of panic, as I realized how deep and how quickly things had progressed. Instinctively resisting, I felt the link connecting my hands stopping me. I felt his firm push shoving me into the second room. Whether I wanted to or not, the scene was well underway. His strong arms held mine tightly as he unhooked my hands. First the left one shoved up towards the ceiling, fastened firmly, stretched tightly. Then the right. Here I was spread eagle, hooded, restrained, with someone I barely knew. Little comfort came from the thought of how well he knew me.

Next he fastened a spreader bar to each ankle restraint, causing my legs to be forced open widely. The arrangement was so tight that the opening of my legs caused me to almost lift off the ground, supported totally by my wrists. I felt the blood flow slowing in my hands, and began to understand I had two choices. I could either use my feet for support, and cut off blood to my hands, or I could stand on my toes, giving my arms some minimal relief. I heard him exit, leaving me, alone in my new restricted world. I knew from our board conversations that he liked to leave his slaves in this position. It was punishment, it taught respect. I knew I must behave. I wasn’t even sure what choice I had. While he hadn’t gagged me, the leather hood covered my mouth, and certainly muffled sound. Being in this back basement room, I suspected no one, or maybe only him, would hear me anyhow.

I couldn’t even estimate how much time had passed. My wrists had lost all feeling. My legs had ached for what seemed like an hour or so. I felt weakened, exposed, tired. Yet my damn cock still stood hard. Something he was doing still excited me. Something he was doing made part of me not want it to end.

Somehow, he was gaining control exponentially within me. When he returned, my heart jumped and beat quickly. What was next? What would he do? I heard water running, it made me want to piss desperately. I heard him moving things around. I couldn’t see it, but I felt the warmth of bright light on my body. I felt warm and funny as he smeared some hot jell across my stomach and groin. No thoughts of protest at this point. He had begun to shave his new slave. I had surrendered my body for his use, for his liking. He was to mold me into what he wanted.

I was just a participant.

I worried about how far up my chest he was shaving me. What would I tell friends? My head had questions. My cock understood. It was his sign of ownership of my body. I had to let my head go, I had to let my cock rule. That was the commitment I had made to my new master. My ownership was his contract. My surrender was the price I had to pay for his learning. After completing his touches on my front, I felt him hold me, I heard him telling me what I good boy I had been. As he held me tight, I realized he was unhooking my wrists from the ceiling, and thought for a minute the night had passed. That thought quickly exited as he snapped my wrists back together, this time in front of my body. My ankles were still spread wide, and he started to force me to move around. Working to position me, we shifted together across the room.

Suddenly he commanded me to lean back, and I felt a padded table behind me, just above my ass. I had to trust as I let my weight go backwards. I trusted as I felt him attaching my hands far above my head at the top of the table. I trusted as I felt him grab the spreader bar, and lift my legs up to the ceiling. Here I was again, totally secured down, totally surrendering all control to this man. As he fastened a wide leather belt around the table and over my stomach, I thought about my new vulnerabilities. My cock and balls were totally exposed. My ass was spread wide open. My control was given up, and I was totally his boy for his use, as he saw fit. He had gotten what I had promised.

It didn’t take him long to finish the shaving job on my ass and groin. I sensed his satisfaction, heard him cleaning up at the sink. I heard him opening cabinets, drawers, heard him making hardware arrangements. What was next? I have a real tight ass, and at this point had urgent concerns. My bladder ached, my body was helpless, my ass was totally exposed. I hoped my trust in this man would be ok. He began wrapping my cock and balls with what felt like a leather thong. Starting at the base, he kept wrapping round and round, forcing my balls up towards the head of my seven inch slave cock. I felt the pain grow, felt the stretching of my ball sack, and felt good about it. He was working me hard, he knew where and how to make pain turn into ecstasy. Suddenly I felt something enter the head of my dick. It didn’t hurt, but it felt very odd. Gently he began sliding the object up my piss slot.

Firmly I felt him push it up past the sore muscle holding my bladder shut. All of a sudden I wanted to piss badly. It felt like hell. I had to piss, I needed to piss, my body was telling me to piss. No matter what I did, I couldn’t. No matter how hard I wanted to, the catheter he inserted controlled me. He opened it slightly, and I felt such a rush of relief. It was short lived though, as he clamped it shut again. His point was clear. I was his. He controlled what went in and out of me. He decided when I needed to piss. I agreed to this earlier on the board. Now I had to live within my commitment. Satisfied with this arrangement, he focused again on my ass. He knew my ass was tight, I had made a point to tell him early on. Gently, a felt his finger probe exploring his new boy’s hole. Gently I felt him play, inserting what felt like a small dildo. In and out it went. Over and over. Next a larger toy.

Over and over. Each time he withdrew it, I tried to expel it all the way out of my body. Each time he withdrew, he refused to let me do so. Just as it was exiting, he would push it in again.

Slowly he kept working my hole, stretching, playing, teasing. He kept me hot. He kept me wanting. He kept his promise. He was working with my ass gently. He would accept me with my restrictions. But, as he had clearly stated, my ass was his to work with. Finally he slowed, leaving something in my ass. It felt warm, it was good. I sensed he was securing this plug, sensed I would wear it for awhile, and felt the leather tightening felt his strong hand wrapping some type of harness around my legs and groin. I knew I was sweating, but began to feel warm all over, and felt a new tightness in my gut. I soon understood as the tightness grew, he was filling his boy with some kind of fluid.

The plug he had locked in my ass must have been some type of enema head, and he was filling me, pressing me, pushing me to capacity. I started to groan and twist as the pain slowly grew.

Simultaneously, he deftly fastened two piercing clips on my rock hard nipples. I was in agony, moaning, in glory, in pain. As he cautioned me about shooting, I knew my cock was close, throbbing, with pre cum dripping down its shaft. As he opened the valve, I felt the fluid shooting from my ass, felt my gut retract, felt relief, felt commitment to the man. I realized he had me plumbed, controlled, had taken away any choice of my wishes for body excrement.

He continued to play with me well into the night. He douched my ass till I’m sure all fluid coming out was clean. He played with my bladder, teasing, draining, stopping. We went in cycles. When he knew I was reaching a limit, he would pull back, he would disappear from the room. When he returned, I would be hungry again, waiting, hoping for his attention. He had my body, he had my head. Slowly he was making his way into my will. Never during the night did he give me any choice. Even when my head wanted it to end, the restraints kept my body his property.

I was surprised to see the daylight when he finally released me.

I had no idea of how much time had passed. Today is three days later, and life is almost back to normal. My friend is here with me, I’m playing top again. He is wearing my collar, his hands are strapped behind him, he is sorting my laundry with his mouth. It feels good, but it’s not the same. He changed my life. I’m not independent, I will return on his command. I keep checking the computer board every half day. I just hope he was pleased with me!