“Strip!”

Came the order, echoing throughout the small acoustically challenged room. I was in a rural building, secluded from the gaze of normal folk, great work had been put in to the decor and arrangements of not just this room, but as I would soon discover in to almost every other room, to present a cold and unwelcoming appearance, a building you would take one look at and immediately tell your friends ‘I’m going home.’

I reached for the bottom of my t-shirt and then proceeded to lift it high over my head, His hands extended to receive my shirt nicely folded, i begin working at my belt and could see the frustration He felt at the amount of time i was taking, “Quickly” he snapped. The belt released my pants and they quickly slid down my legs and stopped loosely around my ankles, i had previously removed my shoes as i entered the building, it was a requirement upon entering, before proceeding, i bent down and pushed my jeans all the way, off stepping out of them one leg at a team. Again, folded and handed to Him, i struggled to maintain my balance as i removed my sock but managed to stay standing, i placed these socks neatly atop the growing pile in His hands. I stood and waited, arms by my side, He waited also, as if he was giving me chance to realise a mistake or error perhaps “Underwear is clothing too, boy” he quickly jibed, a little apprehensive my hands took hold of my tight fitting boxers at the waist band that clung to my body with a tight grip, i took a moment and in one quick movement forced them toward my ankles, my member was out and hanging for His pleasure and amusement, both probably, again stepping out of them one leg at a time helped me to retain my balance and not fall flat on my face. I folded the boxers and added them as the final piece of clothing.

“These are yours no longer.” He calmly stated, “they are mine and from this point on, your right to wear clothes has been withdrawn, you have handed this right, among others, to me as you did with this pile” He continued to inform, “a slave belongs as naked as when they were spat out, nothing is hidden, everything is presented.”

I was stood, before him, naked as the day i was born but more significantly than the clothes an inherent right to where clothing and conceal my nakedness had been striped too. A right i would probably never get back, my head was forward but my gaze was lowered following in guidance with our correspondence prior to meeting, my shoulders were pushed back and my body was straight and provided views of everything He wanted to see, my hands were by side but firm and stiff, my legs were spread approximately one metre apart and were straight.

He placed the clothes on a nearby chair as He began to walk around me, He stopped behind me, he waited a moment. My mind entered in to a thousand different scenarios and entertained a million different ideas of what was too come. “Boy, i can’t see your ass. Bend over” He quipped, i immediately bent over, “Wheres your hole, spread your ass boy!” he remarked, my hands quickly reached round and pulled at my ass cheeks, my hole pulsated as the cold hair took to it, with every breath of the hole an intake of cold air violated me, He hummed and ahead before spitting in to it, with his hand, encased in black latex, he rubbed his spit over my hole, he spat again and followed the same routine, eventually he worked another dollop of spit in to my ass with a finger “you are a tight one, that will change” He lewdly suggested as He struggled to move up to two fingers. After managing a third he withdrew, a fourth probably would not fit right now. “Release!” i dropped my hands from my cheeks, almost before my cheeks met each other again they were greeted by an instant slap, i hard latex to flesh smash that rang through the room, i stumbled slightly in my posture. I was not expecting it. He relished a second, this type upon contact His hand remained there and pulled at my red cheek, forcefully pinching it between his palm and fingers… 

(stay tuned for part II)