Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Serving the Canadian Soldier

I had met this particular Sir the night of Bondage 201 at Pistons, we had talked, gotten to know each other and really enjoyed each others' company.  Last night I received instructions of what I where I would be going and what I would be doing and that there would be consequences if I disobeyed or made a mistake or even so much as looked him in the eyes.  I was told what to wear, what streets to go down, and to find a specific garage door in a neighborhood that night.  My heart began to beat faster, anxiety rising to the surface.  I have always had problems following too many orders at once, would I be able to remember every single order?  Before long, I was also sent a picture of who I would be serving that evening.

On the small screen of my basic flip-phone, I was met with the image of a man in full desert BDU, and my heart began to pound even harder.

I followed each direction until I found myself standing in front of the garage door that held my destination within.  I fumbled with my phone, panic gripping my chest, anxiety taking hold of my head, what was I supposed to do again?  Come on, man! He's probably in there waiting right now! Why can't you remember a basic order like opening the door and standing a certain way!? Damn it, you forgot which text it was, didn't you? Get it together!

Finally, I found my order, memorized it the best I could, and carried it out.  I opened the door and my eyes fell upon a pair of boots inside, my eyes shot downward to the cement floor, and I entered, closing the door behind me.  I stepped backward away from the door and put my hands behind my back and my feet shoulder length apart.  My heart was racing, anxiety strong, I was so nervous, he walked up to me, the boots on the concrete floor, his face neared the back of my ear.

He said some things in a low whisper, which my anxious mind couldn't record to memory for now, he walked in front of me and my eyes wandered upward to the lower left of his chin, a swift but light smack struck the side of my head.

"Don't look at me, boy."

My eyes shot downward and glued themselves there.  I didn't look at his eyes, like he said, but I didn't want to even risk making him angry or displeased with me!  My eyes were bound to the floor by law!  He walked behind me, tied a gray bandanna gag around my mouth, bound my arms behind my back, and put his lips to my ear.

"You do realize there is no turning back from this."

I nodded, whispering "Yes, sir." into the gag.  I didn't want to go back!  I wanted to stay!  I was terrified of him, but in a respectful way.  This wasn't the same man I had met, he was so different now.  Even if he was slightly shorter than I was, I didn't challenge the idea that this man wouldn't hesitate to crush me if I stepped out of line.  He came to my front and opened my jacket, my eyes on his boots.

"Good, a t-shirt."

He walked to my back again and I felt his eyes on my boots, my tall engineers.  He stopped.

"You wore the wrong boots, boy."


"Those aren't the same boots you wore the last time we met."


"Am I going to have to punish you for wearing the wrong boots boy?"

I didn't dare speak at first, my mind raced for a response, I finally found one.

"Punish me however you want, Sir."

He said nothing. My heart was racing, my anxiety at an all time high, tears of fear and joy at the corners of my eyes, breath frantic. I felt my body shaking slightly.  Soon a rope was thread through the collar's ring at the back of my neck and my head became immobilized, I could only nod up and down, moving anywhere was now impossible.  I kept my eyes on the floor.  He then moved close and kissed me, before his lips moved to my ear as I panted anxiously.

"Do you know where this uniform is from, boy?"

I nodded at first, but then shook my head, I really didn't know.

"I wore this uniform when I was in Afganistan."

My heart leaped with respect.  I leaned forward and was able to take in the scent of the uniform, it was all real, all authentic, and it was being worn by the man who was dominating me at that very second.  It radiated power, a power I longed to submit to.

My mind is clouded and there is a haze, a result of subspace is poor memory recollection...I vaguely recall more kissing, he plunged the room into darkness, more kissing...and I thankfully earned the honor to follow him into his apartment.

Once inside I was ordered to strip down to nothing but the collar around my neck, as he left the room I remembered the instructions but became increasingly anxious and nervous over forgotten details.  Everything was on my phone, but if he caught me looking at it...I didn't dare.  I was supposed to fold my clothes and hang up my jacket, the boots went under the counter, but there was no wooden hanger like he had ordered me to use, was I supposed to place the clothes on the counter?  Oh god! I couldn't find any wooden ones, so I used an empty plastic hanger and tried hanging the jacket on the clothesline nearby.  I remembered it was forbidden for jackets to go on the floor or over a chair, but the clothesline wouldn't hold it!  I ever so carefully hung it on the edge of the counter, praying the hanger would not snap and damn me.  It held, much to my relief.  I was naked as ordered, I looked around and thought I was finished.

"I'm ready sir."

"You are not in the big room in front of the china cabinet."

Shit!  Another mistake! What the hell are you doing, man!?

I frantically and quietly made my way into the designated room, looked around, but could only see one large cabinet piece of furniture, was that the right one?  I got down on my knees, hands laced behind my neck, face down on the carpet.

"I'm ready, sir." I said, fearfully.  Already having three mistakes against me, what the hell was I in for?  I waited...silence was the response.  Was I in the right place?  I looked around as much as I dared, no, this was the only real cabinet type of furniture, this room seemed to be the biggest, was this a test?  He was still sitting on the couch, the back towards me his hat just barely visible over the tall back of the couch.  I stayed where I was and sent my eyes back to the floor, hoping I was obeying orders.

He moved, rising from the couch I heard him come over behind me.  I froze dead.  I didn't breathe.  A boot was then presented under my face. 

"These boots were used in the desert, boy."

I needed no order, I began to kiss them, service them, it was an honor to service the boots of a respectful soldier who had fought in a war.  I was raised to my feet and informed that due to it being my first time, I was under inspection.

Inspection?  Oh no...

He looked my body over, noting small details.  My fingernails, my body hair, I had never felt so nervous and scrutinized.  It wasn't until he went to check on how I had folded my clothes to see if I would pass that I became even more terrified of failing to meet his expectations.  Time seemed to hang in the air, nothing was said in the other room, only silence.  He returned and I trembled.

"It looks like I don't have to show you how to fold clothes, boy."

Oh thank god...

I was then led to the other side of the room where he blindfolded me and hogtied me with leather wrist and ankle restraints.  I felt the feeling of him doing something to my exposed hole, he toyed with it, there was a warmth, then a poking discomfort.  I phased in and out of headspace, thanking him for it.

After a long while he finally broke the silence.

"You don't bottom well, do ya, boy?" he asked, after he had ceased playing with my ass.

"N-no, sir.  It's difficult for me, sir." I responded, unsure of what to say.  In all truth I really didn't get into anal play, it was more uncomfortable for me than pleasurable.

I was ordered back over to the china cabinet, my blindfold removed, there were towels laid down upon the carpet now.  I was ordered to lay on my back where he leaned in close and grabbed hold of my erect member and growled "Do NOT cum, boy." and he began to edge me.

For the next 34 minutes (as he informed me later) he tortured me with pleasure.  Occasionally pulling me in for deep, sensual kisses only to further my wonderful misery as he tantalized me with a point I was expressly forbidden to reach.  He asked me how much I wanted it, and then repeated that I was denied permission.

The torture continued until at last he ordered me to ejaculate, but at this point I had spent so much effort obeying his order that I could not easily do so.  Clenching every leg muscle I had, I eventually forced myself to climax, and judging by my Sir's reaction, I do believe it was a success.

A warm washcloth cleansed me, and a soft order to roll over on my stomach followed.  Strong hands massaged my back and body, my arms, my legs, my feet, my hands, and my shoulders.  I was told to relax and shower when I was ready to do so.  I lay there, absorbing the afterglow, my eyes wandering the room, taking in my environment.  Noting small details, observing just how clean and tidy the entire room really was, until I was ready and proceeded to the bathroom to wash myself.

My submissive mentality still strong, I dared not shut the door recalling that I would have no privacy during my visit.  I dared not even use the last sliver of soap on the shower shelf.  It was not mine, I had no right to touch it.  After taking care to dry myself inside the shower, and not get a drop of water on the mat, I returned to the big room.  The lights had been turned down, candles lit in the fireplace and on the table.  My eyes locked to the floor.

"What would you have me do, Sir?"  I asked.

"Come over here, sit with me." a gentle voice responded.  I obeyed, eyes lowered.  He wrapped me in a blanket and held me close to him.

"Hey, it's you and me now, you can relax."

Slowly, the scene began to fade away, my anxieties melted, my stiffness dissolved, and I slowly brought my eyes up to my friend's face.  His kind gaze, his smile, his gentle expression.  All full of warmth.  As I melted into his arms and cuddled closer, my mind begged a question...

Who dominated me that night?

Before I left that night, I was presented with a gift, the collar I wore that evening was now mine to keep and to cherish.  I was also told of another surprise.  He lead me into the kitchen where I had first taken off my clothes.  My underwear were nowhere to be found and instead there lay a tan pair of boxers.  HIS boxers.  Boxer shorts that, as he informed me, were technically military issued, and ones he had used in the war.

I am wearing them as I type this, and it fills me with pride to be lent the boxers of a soldier who fought to defend his country.  It is empowering in a way, slight, but it is there.

Thank you, Sir.  I await your next order with bated breath.

Play Safe.

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