Gay Erotic Stories

Jim has been exceedingly obedient. I thought that once the novelty had worn off and his passions quenched, he would revert to his usual butch self. Well, the novelty may have worn off, but his passions are far from quenched. Sometimes I feel as though I'm being scorched alive by his flames. In reality, I know that I am burning in my own conflagration. I have unearthed a molten core of lust deep within me that threatens to consume the crust of my persona as your average college student.

I confess that in my calmer moments I'm apprehensive about the kind of person I'm becoming. I brood over the things I've done to Jim, the way I've treated him, not able to fully accept that these deeds were done by me. It's easier to think that, in the heat of passion, I'm possessed by a lustful spirit, a sadistic demon. Who am I kidding?

I've avoided Jim for the past three days, commanding him not to call or come by. I cringe when I think of what I did the last night I spent with Jim. I don't want to think about it, write about it, but I must. I've kept myself busy to avoid this, but I know I have to put this down on paper and get it out of my head. I have to come to grips with it.

Jim was waiting for me when I hiked out of the woods and entered the bald summit of the hill. He was dressed in his best suit: the slacks, tie, and jacket all black. His shirt was pristine white. He was waiting by the front entrance, kneeling on the porch. I saw him glance my way when I stepped on a twig, and he immediately lowered his forehead to the floor. I hadn't given these instructions to him when I informed him that morning that I would stop by. I had only said that since I would have to arrive later in the day, I wanted him to prepare dinner and dress nicely, none of this black-and-white formal dress and kneeling and bowing. We've had very passionate moments together but little quality time getting to know each other. I thought a dinner and some talking would be in order.

I stepped up to the porch and stopped in front of Jim's bowed head. "Thank you for coming, master," he said. People say black is slimming, but, from my vantage point standing over him, he looked like a giant black ball except for his shiny pate. I could see the curves of his buttocks. Seeing them, memories of the last time I fucked him flickered through my mind. I felt the heat rising in my gut, my cock hardening. This isn't why you came to Jim tonight, I reminded myself.

With a deep breath to steel my resolve, I said, "I want you to get up, Jim. We will dine together and spend the night talking. Do you understand?"

"Yes, master." Jim pushed himself to his feet, his head bowed down. He has an issue about looking down on his master so he stares at his feet. Or perhaps he was staring at the tent in his crotch. Boxers and formal slacks do very little to hide a man's erection. He held open the door for me, following me in.

A small dining table for two was beautifully laid out with white linen, silver candle stands with white candles, fine china, real silverware, and a centerpiece of myriad flowers. "This is amazing, Jim." I was truly astonished. He thanked me in a quiet voice. He begged me to sit and brought over bowls of mixed green salad. I had meant to engage him in discussions but suddenly found myself famished and hesitant. I started eating. Jim followed my lead. I told him the salad was excellent. He thanked me and then brought bowls of cream of mushroom soup, very smooth and tasty. Again I complimented him, he thanked me and brought the main course, medium rare steak with steamed asparagus and roasted fingerling potatoes. I ate greedily. The last course was a peach cobbler with vanilla ice cream. Jim begged my pardon for not making the ice cream from scratch.

"Did you make all the courses yourself, Jim?" I asked, surprised. He had made a few things before but nothing as extraordinary as that night's meal.

"Yes, master." He gazed at his empty plate.

"Look at me, Jim. It's hard to converse with someone who won't make eye contact." I didn't hide my irritation.

"I'm sorry, master," he apologized miserably and raised his head. I noticed then that he had shaved his moustache and beard. He had a fine jaw. His smooth, clean skin made his entire face glow in the candlelight. He was beautiful.

"I like you like this, clean-shaven. Now, when did you learn to cook?"

"Thank you, master. I will keep my face shaved from now on, master. And I learned to cook after I got out of the Marines, almost twenty years ago, master. I went to cooking school and worked as a chef for six years, writing a little when I could. Did you enjoy the meal, master?"

"I did, very much. Everything was delicious, even the ice cream." A wide smile stretched across his face. He was glowing. He made to clear the dishes but I bid him to remain seated. "So you were in the Marines? I had thought you had played football before becoming a full time writer."

"I did play football in high school and college, master. I could have gone pro but I wanted the greater discipline in the military."

"So you're used to taking orders."

"Well, kind of, master. Early on I had to take orders, but as I rose in the ranks I became more accustomed to giving orders. And when I was a chef, I was the boss in the kitchen. Some of my women didn't care for my need to be in charge, master."

I laughed, almost spewing the water I had sipped. "Oh, if they saw you now." He chuckled.

"So, where did this need to obey come from? Was your father a disciplinarian?" I was trying to understand how that commanding and bossy man would want to become a slave.

"My father was firm but not a disciplinarian, master. He actually played pro football when I was a boy and later became a coach. But he was mostly laid-back." He fell silent and squinted his eyes, thinking. "Master, I don't know where this need comes from. Nothing in my earlier life hinted at all to this. All I know is that when I saw you that first day at your dad's, I felt more alive than ever before. I didn't understand my feelings, master. I just wanted to see you all the time. I wanted to look into your eyes and lose myself. And then when you started to tell me what to do, it was like a light suddenly turned on, and I realized I've been in darkness all my life. I want the light, master. I don't want to go back to the darkness."

I sat quiet, pondering what Jim had said. My gaze drifted down to the table as I thought this through. To have so much power over a man! I loved Jim. I had no doubts about that. I would not mind relishing my power over him if I didn't get such a rush from abusing him. Part of me wants to just accept it and enjoy it. But that part of me that believes in decency, respect, and kindness plagues me with guilt after the rush dissipates.

I glanced up to find Jim staring at his plate. Such a powerful man yet so meek. "How do you feel when I abuse you?"

Jim's face shot up. He looked confused. "Abuse, master? I don't understand."

"Jim, I've caused you physical pain when we have sex. How do you feel when I do that?"

Jim held my eyes for a long while before saying, "I think I understand, master. In your eyes, you believe you are abusing me, hurting me, forcing me to do things I would normally never do. You are a good man, master, so naturally you are having difficulties with this. But for me, I experience nothing but ecstasy. Even pain becomes ecstasy for me. When you spank me, master, I feel the stinging pain initially but it quickly transforms into a wave of pleasure that washes my entire being. The transformation is so quick that the pain is gone even as it registers. I love everything you do to me, master."

I didn't really understand, but I could see that he was sincere. His eyes begged me to believe him. "I'm afraid of how far I would go, Jim. This is all so new to me. I'm afraid I might injure you."

"Master, the first time you fucked me, you ordered me to tell you if it hurt. I am still obeying that order, master. If you do something that truly hurt, I will obey and inform you. Please do not worry too much about it, master."

I gave Jim a weak smile. He smiled back reassuringly. "If I should ever command you to do something that would cause you harm or you're completely set against doing, you will respectively decline to obey. Do you understand?"

"Yes, master. And thank you, master."

I felt better now. My conscience was eased. I relaxed, letting my shoulders drop. I had been so tense. I stared at Jim. He was so handsome in his suit. His luscious red lips stood out more now against his fair skin. His nostrils were flared. I could hear his heavy breathing. All that talk of fucking and spanking must have aroused him. I too was aroused.