First Meeting ....cont.

Once your hands are tied palms facing it’s almost impossible to move your arms apart from up and down, they seem locked together at the elbows, well they did when he tied me. He looped the rope around my wrists several times cinching them together tightly.

I was led across the room until we were under one of the heavy beams that stretched the width of the room. This one had several metal eyes screwed into it ready to take the weight of a human body. The ends of the ropes that held my arms together by the wrists were looped through one of these and pulled tight so that my arms were above my head. I couldn’t straighten them, which seems strange until you try in that position, and it was quite painful keeping myself balanced on my toes as he tied off the ends securely. I was now his, totally. I had no defence, even if I wanted it, apart from kicking out with my legs – again almost impossible in that position – and I knew it.

From behind me he brought his hands round my face and pushed a ball gag into my mouth which he buckled,  pushed the ball in more firmly and rebuckled the strap. I could drool. I could moan into the gag but that was about it. He circled me, now holding a single tailed whip with both hands, letting it touch my skin and drawing lines down my body with it. He told me he was going to enjoy having me for the next few hours, he hoped I’d enjoy it as well although it really didn’t matter too much if I did or didn’t. I was going to get what he gave out with no argument. I tried to agree with a guttural “yeth thir” through the gag which only made me dribble more and saw him smile.

Once he was behind me I heard very little movement. There was a slight sound of air parting before the whip bit into my arse. It curled slightly round my inner thigh, the end of the lash leaving a thin purple red line on my skin. I saw this later, at the time all I sensed was the sudden burning cut, the fire that drilled down into my flesh causing shock waves up my spine and into my ears exiting me in a mixture of spit and scream.  He spared no rod, even from the beginning I was to learn what being a slaveboi  meant to him. I was his to do with as he liked, to take what he dispensed and to thank him for the privilege.  The second and third strokes of that leather tail caught me across the back and shoulders with all the force of the first. I swung forward as if I’d been punched yelling as I did so. The next few hit my arse again making my legs swing up with the all consuming pain I now felt through every part of me. I was not conscious of each cut, rather they merged into a general blistering painful whole.

I only got about six. I say only, but by then I was tearful and more or less hanging by the wrists as he carefully held me round the chest, untying  the ropes and gently taking my weight before setting me down onto the floor. He smiled at me and told me I’d done quite well for starters. I can’t say how good that felt at that moment,  it was almost as if I’d won a race, succeeded in something worthwhile.  As he untied me he rubbed my arms and traced some of the lines the whip had made on my skin. I was given a couple of minutes to recover – this was my very first session – before the next idea he had.

I was now told to put my arms behind me and to grab the opposite elbow, which I could just about do. He lashed my arms together from the wrists to the elbows so they had no chance of slipping. Next I sat cross legged on the floor and he proceeded to tie my ankle to the opposite leg as tightly as he could leaving a length free.  The last piece of this bondage was a noose which was put round my neck and connected to my legs, he pushed my head forward until I was bent over as far as he could make me and tied it off. I found breathing difficult, movement was out of the question, or at least most movement. He looked at me, grinned and pushed me over like some sort of ball. I simply rolled onto my back and ended up on my side, still scrunched up and now aching.  Sitting me up again he crouched in front of me and played with my tits, working up until I was pleading for him to stop. This only managed to get me gagged again, and the tit torture to get worse. With one hand on my shoulder he pulled and twisted my nipples with the other, asking why I was hard if I didn’t enjoy what he was doing and to shut up and enjoy it.  My yelling made breathing even more laboured, the gag had me drooling again, but it was true, my erection had not subsided very much at all. After about ten minutes, ten hours in “feel time” he loosened the ropes and let me find my way out of the lengths he had used.  I stretched out on the floor as he rubbed my back from behind my knees to my shoulders.  As he was kneeling in front of me I saw his cock straining to get out of his leathers and I suddenly wanted so much to have him inside me. I pushed my face into his crotch. He didn’t try to stop me, he didn’t make a move to make me think I was doing something wrong so I continued. My fingers helped my tongue undo his zip and I pushed into the gap, finding his warm, throbbing precum covered organ ready for my mouth. Prizing it from its leather prison I very gradually used my tongue and lips to clean his juices from the shaft and take as much of the length as I could into my throat.  I heard his breathing slow down and felt him relax into the rhythm I started, methodically caressing and sucking. I thought he was going to cum, he began to stiffen even more but it was at that point he pushed me away.

Dragging me up he held me over the fuck bench, positioning me exactly where he wanted me and began again to tie me tightly, arms straight down to the front legs, body strapped to the centre, legs and thighs to the back legs of the bench. This time no gag. He told me I was to get a dozen from his special cane, the Dragon Cane. It was a pain like no other. The whip was a kiss compared to the power of that thing. He used it carefully to extract the most excruciating amount of sadistic mind bending pain. Each stroke was timed to impact at just the right moment. Just when the previous one had time to make you feel you had been cut with a thick burning sword the next did the same in a slightly different place.   My tears were making large wet spots on the floor, I was dribbling, screaming,  my nose was running, I was a complete mess and felt like wanting to die. He stopped, put his hand on the small of my back and told me I was to get six more. If I made a noise he would start again at one. If I was silent I’d be rewarded.

To this day I don’t know how I managed that. Since then I've become either harder and thicker skinned or mentally able to turn the pain down. Then I was simply scared. I clamped my jaw shut and held my breath. Counting down I finally got there although I felt sure he was now going easier on me. With a couple of internal groans and an exhalation I did it. My reward came immediately, he stood in front of me, unzipped and thrust into my mouth. It took only a couple of minutes for him to make an animal roar and gush is spunk down my throat. I swallowed as fast as I could but the amount overcame my efforts and some spilled down my chin. He considerately wiped his finger on it and allowed me to suck it clean.  With one arm free I was then allowed to wank myself with him stroking my back and arse. I’ve never felt so good.

The first session was over. I was free to go. As soon as I left I wanted to be back there, I so badly wanted to return, to take it all again, to simply be his boi.

• 
  

The First Meeting  -slavebladeboi 

A risk taker.  That’s what he called me later. Apparently that was my type of character, one who lives a bit by chance, not so much as to be completely out of it but just enough to make life that bit edgy.  Motor bike racing, I’d done a bit. Practising BDSM with strangers, to me it was all part of enjoying life rather than taking risks.

I suppose I would have to agree with him too. There I was, naked on all fours, face to the boards in a house I’d never been to before meeting someone I’d only written to a few times before and where no one apart from him and me knew where I was. Breaking, in fact, all the rules you are supposed to follow to make this activity safe.  But I was there under my own free will and excited to be so.

The sound of his boots on the passageway floor, getting nearer with each measured step started my heart beating faster, my breathing slightly shallower. As the door opened I had a fleeting thought about looking up. I desperately wanted to see this Master in the flesh. Just as well I did n’t as it turned out. His boots stopped with the toes under my face. I felt the crop stroke the length of my spine. There was no discussion or doubt as to who was in charge.

Instinctively I lowered my mouth onto the shining leather which was polished to a mirror finish and kissed each one in turn. This seemed to be the correct procedure. I was fairly new to this sort of thing but the reassuring tones he used put me at ease and he encouraged me to continue my work higher up the length of each boot with my tongue. I think I started to wonder at this point what I should do when I got to the top, level with his knees, but I did n’t have to worry. He grabbed my hair and pulled my face into his crotch, his leather trousered crotch that stretched across his engorged shaft. I obediently licked along the length of his cock feeling it almost pulsing through the leather, straining now for release. As he let go of my hair I dropped lower and stayed still, nose to the floor between each boot. 

The crop circled my arse, I felt very naked and vulnerable, a stupidly obvious thing to think in that position! After a couple of seconds he swung it hard onto my flesh where it cut red hot into me, then repeated several times with me starting to cry out and trying to move forward. He was standing with my head between his legs, I had no chance of escape. All I heard was the rush of air as each stroke of the leather covered crop delivered its painful gift and this Master telling me in no uncertain terms to “shut up and keep still!”

My back and arse felt red hot, my own erection had partially subsided and I was now flat on the floor squirming about as I tried in vain to obey his orders and at the same time reduce the pain. Once he thought I’d had enough – more likely He had had enough – he rested one boot in the small of my back and fastened a wide leather collar around my neck, buckling it up tight enough for me to take a sudden breath. This was attached to a leash. With the order “follow” he walked off pulling me along on all fours still. We headed to the stairs which led to the playroom dungeon.

The room was quite light. It held a fuck bench and a St Andrew’s Cross plus a case of other goodies which I was to try out later and, of course, long lengths of different coloured rope. There were beams across the ceiling which would support my weight easily, very easily.

At last I stood, hands behind my back, looking at the floor. But I’d seen him, swiftly, without it being obvious. Tall, a good six inches on me, attractive, broad, muscled and looking every part a Dominant Master. Someone I wouldn’t argue with even if I wanted to.

“Hands in front,” was all he said at this point. He turned my palms so they faced each other and expertly tied them together in a way that would in no way come loose, struggle or not. I knew at this point there was no going back.

A risk taker? Yep, this was one big risk. Did I feel nervous or afraid? No. There seemed to be a bond (no pun intended) between us, unspoken yet very much evident in the atmosphere of the room. I just knew that from this moment on life was going to become more risky and interesting.           

   He turned up seated astride a red Honda Fireblade.I'm not really a bike afficionado but I did know that this was an especially fast one,the choice of the more mature Sunday rider.I saw them every week weaving in and out of the traffic,risk takers.My old listed farmhouse had an access down a private drive and I heard the distinctive burble of the bike as he made his way into the courtyard and parked beside the old coachouse.In many ways the property was ideal for the purpose,rambling and characterful with a large attic where I had equipped my "playroom" as I referred to it,a matter of opinion I suppose if it was play or not.I watched him from the first floor window as he slipped off the bike and removed his helmet.In his full leather biker suit and boots he was a neat,fit looking guy.He made his way to the house and entered by the back door.I heard him climb the stairs.I had given him instructions by E mail and he made his way along the corridor leading to the small bedroom at the end that I had designated as his changing room. I admired this chap's chutzpah.Here he was seventy miles from home and about to allow a total stranger to tie him up.I guessed that he had probably told nobody of his destination that morning,yes,a risk taker. 
                I completed lacing up my boots feeling the delightful swelling of my cock  underneath my leathers.I gave him ten minutes just to allow the tension to build up as I knew it would be .Then I picked up my riding crop and began the long walk along the corridor that ran along the rear of the house to the room where he waited.The sigtht that met my eyes made my cock jump some more.He wore a pair of ankle boots,apart from that he was naked.He was much smaller than me and had a delightfully shaped body with nicely defined shoulders tapering to a narrow waist.With his face to the floor I inspected him with growing approval.The line of his backbone caught my eye,I gently traced the tip of the riding crop along it.He shuddered slightly I could only guess at the cocktail of fear and excitement that was coursing through his brain.He had told me in the mails that we had exchanged before meeting that his experience was limited and I knew that today would probably remain in his mind forever.I certainly intended to make it a memorable session.His mouth went instinctively to my boots,I was impressed,for a novice he seemed to know exactly what was expected of him.He kissed the gleaming black leather of the toes before working up the shaf tof the boot.He hesitated when he reached the knee.I could read his mind now as he wondered what was the next move.He needed a hint.I reached down a gloved hand.His hair was short but there was just enough to get hold of.I pulled him higher and placed his face into the leather crotch of my jeans.He didn't need any more encouragement.I felt his lips on my cock through the tightly stretched leather. His kisses served only to promote my erection still more. as he knelt between my long  booted legs and used his mouth to caress it to a state of throbbing tumescence.I stood for a while,my gloved right hand resting on my right hip,my head back in complete ecstasy.I just had the feeling that this guy was going to be good at this.I pushed him away and placed his head between my legs so that he was gripped tightly between my powerful legs .Using the crop I applied a volley of strokes to his arse.He struggled and I told him to just shut up and take it,combining the intimacy of allowing him to worship my cock with the threat of the punishment I needed to give him for my own satisfaction.This slave first and foremost was here to be trained to my requirements and I fully expected to do that in the way that I chose,deep down I knew it was what he wanted too.I placed him face down on the bare boards and placed a boot in the small of his back as I fastened a wide leather collar with a leash attached around his neck.I picked up the leash and pulled him to his knees.I led him out into the corridor and to the flight of stairs that led to my attic playroom                                                          

Boot Sub

Slave Inspection

                                              Master

                                                         BootMasterBD

 This  blog is the home of BootMasterBD .It is his personal domain.and is dedicated to his chosen lifestyle as a male Dominant .It is also a place where  those who serve him and who choose to voluntarily submit to his supreme authority may pay homage to their Master.If you enjoy the content of this blog and you wish to  offer comments  then you may do so at  bootmasterbd@gmail.com

 The BootMaster 
  Standing six feet three in my gleaming black leather knee high hand made Jean Gaborit boots I cut a commanding figure.And it is my intention that my appearance should strike fear into the heart of any male submissive who may find himself  either looking at my photographs or when in my company.In addition to those boots that reach right up to the knee,their criss crossed lacings binding them tightly to the contours of my long,sturdy legs,my penchant is to dress in  tight,body hugging black leather.Tailored leather jeans display both  the curve of my hot arse,and the bulge of my cock and balls.Both are places of homage and worship for those privileged few who may be allowed to explore the manifold delights that their Master keeps hidden there beneath the leather carapace.
    As well as being tall I am a big guy with well developed,broad shoulders.My fitness level is maintained by regular swimming and workout sessions designed to keep my physical strength to a peak.However,it is not my muscles that are my chief attribute in my control of the male submissive,that accolade goes to my mind.
   It is not the  Dominant's cock that is the centre of eroticism,but  his  brain.By the time a submissive finds himself in my domain his mind has already been captured and put in chains,his submission is now absolute as he offers up  his limbs to receive my ropes or manacles.From that moment when he first kneels before my leather clad form I own him totally.
   If I need to use my physical strength to take and overpower him I can of course do that.It is a good feeling to kneel astride him and rope him until he is unable to move an inch before standing over his bound body as he awaits his fate.It is a fate that might well involve the humiliation of him being led by the heavy leather collar around his neck,the leash attached as,eyes downcast to the floor he follows his Master's leisurely progress towards that secret room where canes and whips line the walls,waiting silently to inflict the pain that both desire in their different ways.
   As he makes his way towards that room the slave will certainly sneak a brief look at his Master.Taking in the arrogant sway of those tightly leathered hips,the wide saddle leather belt with it's triple buckled fastening drawn tightly about his waist and of course those boots,the gleaming symbols of both his masculinity and his superiority.His Master's appearance both scares and excites him in equal measures  and he has good reason for both emotions.

The Boots
  The artifacts that give me my name appear to the majority to be pretty unexciting things,and in most cases they are exactly that.Ordinary,functional and designed purely for the purpose of protecting the wearer's feet from damage by impact or from the elements..Of course the term "boots" covers a wide variety of styles and once the shafts extend above the ankle we enter very different territory.I had always been fascinated by the  US Motorbike cop look.He might wear a variety of uniforms depending upon the situation but the one constant would be the knee high Dehner motor cycle boots.Reaching to the knee with a small laced instep panel and with adjusting buckles on the sides of the shafts the boots have a style all of their own.The term iconic is often over used but in the case of the Dehner boot no other adjective really adequately covers it.
   Whether they qualify for the term "Sexy" depends very much on the standpoint of the individual,but anyone who has an inclination towards the kinky will instantly recognise the appeal of the Dehner as a supremely sexy boot with it's strong hints of masculinity,authority and control.So I set about getting a pair as the first step on my route to becoming a "Dom".Naturally the ability to enforce one's will over others is largely dependent upon having  the strength of character to carry it off but looking the part is an important constituent too.I wanted to create a look that instantly told those who viewed any profile that their only option was instant,abject submission to The BootMaster.  My research soon indicated  however that there might be problems importing the Dehners.Of course anything was possible but import duties would effectively double the cost.I wasn't ruling it out but with a likely cost approaching a thousand pounds I thought it worth having a look around first.
    It was then I discovered "Boots for Guys".The company hade a website on the internet.Being based in France importing wasn't a problem and they would be duty free. The company offered "Jean Gaborit Creations" These boots looked to be of a superb quality and an exchange of E mails revealed that they also offered a custom made service.For eight hundred and fifty Euros I could have the boot of my choice,made to measure and designed to my unique specification.The cost,although in excess of the Dehner became far cheaper when the import duty was taken into account.
    So I placed my order.I specified an elegant riding boot styled toe,a full nineteen inch shaft in the finest black leather that took the boot right onto the knee.They would be secured by a laced instep panel through eyelets with fourteen pairs of quick lace steel hooks extending up the front to the knee.Boots for Guys wanted a huge range of measurements.I sent off the figures that they asked for and waited...and waited.
   The six week delivery period came and went,then eight,then ten .I mailed the company and was informed that my boots were in dispatch.Sure enough three days later a large oblong cardboard box arrived.I drew on my  tight black leather jeans.They too are made to measure to ensure a perfect fit.I never wear anything beneath them and the feel of the leather is,what should I say,stimulating? As I slipped the first  boot on I realised that the wait had been worth it.Every minute of it.I drew the long laces through the eyelets in the instep panel and wrapped them around the steel hooks.The boot drew tighter to my calf and began to take on it's shape as the lacing extended higher.I reached the top and knotted together the loose ends in a neat bow.I laced the second boot and stood up.I walked up and down the room and looked into the full length mirror.The sight that met me caused a pleasurable and instant erection,the bulge at the crotch of my jeans becoming  more prominent . 
 
 Completing the Outfit
   I gave considerable thought as to what should come next.The jeans and boots formed an excellent basis for my "uniform". As a Dom.I know how important small details of dress are.They take on far greater significance for those who are inclined towards the kinky lifestyle.This applies to Dom and sub/slave alike and a scene can be either made or broken by the choice of the correct accoutrements.So,with this next important aspect in mind I now I went to buy the items to complement the leather boots and jeans.I was  seeking the perfect combination to give the impression of power and dominance.A black leather tee shirt,a matching vest top and a nicely fitting pair of black leather gloves were the first items on mylist.A crisp white shirt combined with a black tie gave an alternative look,hinting at the uniform of perhaps a prison officer for when I needed to create scenes of this type.Finally I found a specialist leather company online ordered a belt.This was no ordinary belt. Four and a half inches wide and made of heavy grade saddle leather it was fitted with triple brass buckles across the waist and lends any outfit a very strong fetish look. It goes especially well with the shirt and tie.Many submissive men find themselves going weak at the knees at the sight of this combination.It is a very strongly masculine look and hints at the traditional discipline that might well be handed out to those who find  themselves subjected to the whim of a person who is both authoritarian and  has a pronounced sadistic streak
  
Finding the Slave
  Of course the most important thing in all this was finding the correct slave.Although in many ways he enjoys the lowest status in his own mind,often coming in the pecking order below his Master's possessions he nevertheless represented the raison d'etre for the creation of my fantasy Master.I placed a profile on a specialist site.It was designed to put subs and slaves in contact with Masters.I posted a few photographs just to help get their juices flowing and to give them some idea of what they might be getting into.I stated that the successful applicant would be required to accept discipline and punishment to whatever level I deemed necessary as well as being fit enough to deal with the rigorous bondage that I intended to subject him to.A few replies began to trickle in.There were a wide variety.Some were quite clearly unsuitable and looking just for sex.Others were possibilities but for various reasons not ideal.Then I received an E mail from someone who seemed to have all the makings of a potential sub/slave.Enter "bladeboi".He was respectful in his initial application,which was a good start,married in his fifties with a good job and wanting to experience the type of activities that I specified.The fact that he had little or no experience didn't put me off.In a way training someone from scratch appealed to me,I would be starting with a  blank canvas and he would be trained to my exact specifications.He was considerably smaller than myself and seeking a large,powerful Dom.so we pretty much represented each other's ideal type.I will let bladeboi introduce himself: