The Master Who Chose Me on My Birthday

Saturday had begun like any other, with the smell of coffee rising up the stairs and my mother’s voice calling me to breakfast. Renata had no idea that that morning she was going to get the most uncomfortable answer of her life. It was a little over a month before I turned nineteen, and every year she wanted to know what I wanted as a gift.

—Adrián, in a few weeks it’s your birthday —she said, stirring her coffee—. What would you like your father and me to give you?

I’d been rehearsing the line in front of the mirror for days. Even so, my voice shook.

—The truth is I hadn’t really thought about it… —I lied—. But, if possible, I’d like you to help me get started as a submissive.

My mother spat her coffee back into the cup. My father dropped his toast into his own, and he stared at me as if a second head had just sprouted from my shoulders.

—Where on earth did you get that idea, son? —she asked, slowly pulling herself together.

—I know you play this. I know you’re dominant and that you have experience.

The silence that followed was so thick you could have cut it. Renata took a deep breath, swallowed her pride and her shock in equal measure, and kept that cool head I had always envied her for.

—And how do you know that? Where did you get it?

—I’m registered on a website. I looked for people in the city and several profiles came up. A couple of them are yours.

She couldn’t deny it. In those profiles their faces showed up; there was no need to recognize them by a tattoo or the shape of their bodies. I watched my mother go from embarrassment to calculation in a matter of seconds, weighing how to turn all this into something that wouldn’t hurt us, neither me nor the family.

—Look —she said at last—. If I tell you no, or forbid it, you’re going to do it anyway, because you’re already of legal age. So we’ll do it, but my way. I’m going to talk to a friend so she can train you, or so she can find some trustworthy dominant woman.

My father still hadn’t said a word, but by the look on his face I understood the proposal seemed acceptable to him.

—Mum —I cut in—, you’re assuming I want a woman. And I don’t. I want a master. Or a partner who’ll dominate me. There are things I like that I’d rather not tell you, because it would only hurt you more. Find a man to guide me, and let him decide how to do it.

Renata pressed her lips together. She had no one else to turn to, so that very afternoon she went to the club she usually attended and sat down with an old friend, a dominant named Selene. Over drinks she told her about the dilemma. Selene knew a bisexual master and several gay masters she trusted completely. The curious thing was that my mother knew the bisexual master too: in her own dynamic with my father, they were mistress and submissive, and that man, some time ago, had used my father more than once.

***

Selene called him and the man showed up at the club in less than an hour. The three of them sat at a secluded table and Renata took the floor.

—My son turns nineteen in a month. I asked him what he wanted for his birthday and he asked me to help him get started as a submissive. I’m not thrilled by the idea; I don’t mind him starting, but I don’t want to be the one who initiates him. What I do want is for whoever does it not to hurt him, to look after him. He’s asking for a master. Selene thinks you can help me.

The man, whom everyone called Master Viktor, rolled his glass between his fingers before answering.

—Well, right now I have a trial submissive and I don’t have time for proper training. But I do know several friends who do. Let me propose something: I’ll meet your son, talk to him about what he likes, his fears, his limits. And when I’ve got that clear, I’ll look among my people for whoever might fit him.

—That sounds reasonable. And what do you want in return?

—Nothing from you —he smiled—. I’m not going to lie: I’d like to use him in the future. But if I do, you’d never know. My idea is to introduce him to the masters I consider suitable and let him choose. Give him my number so he can call me. Better yet, I’ll see him at my house, so we can talk calmly.

The next day, my mother handed me a folded piece of paper.

—Call this number. He’s a dominant. He’s going to talk to you to get to know you and prepare an evening where several masters will present themselves so you can choose the one you like most.

—Does he have a profile on the site? —I asked.

—What do you think this world is? Of course he has a profile, but I’m not giving it to you. He’s a serious man and he wants you to go in knowing nothing about him. Starting from scratch.

***

I called that same afternoon and Master Viktor arranged to see me the following Saturday, after lunch, at his house. He said that way we’d be away from prying ears. I dressed carefully, and just as I was about to leave, my parents came to the door. My mother straightened my shirt collar.

—Relax. Be yourself. Tell him everything: what you like and what scares you too.

I took a bus out to the outskirts and walked a couple of kilometers to a housing development of detached villas. At the gate, two guards asked for my ID, called it in on the radio, and when someone gave the all-clear, they raised the barrier. The chalet door opened by itself when I arrived. Inside, a deep, rough voice greeted me before I could see him.

—Hello, Adrián. I’ve heard things about you. We can talk in two ways: dressed or naked. You decide. It makes no difference to me.

He was putting the apple in front of me. I hesitated. In the end I preferred to start the conversation dressed. And it was a good conversation, more fluid than I expected. Viktor wanted to know where that desire came from, when it had been born in me. What attracted me and what didn’t. What things I would never do, under any circumstances. We talked so much and so deeply that at one point I confessed something to him.

—If you asked me again right now what you asked before —I said—, I’d do it naked.

—Then do it —he ordered.

I started with my shoes and socks. Then the trousers, then the shirt, and finally the boxer briefs. Viktor approached without hurry. He felt my pecs, my abdomen, my thighs, my ass, like someone assessing a purchase. He took my jaw and made me open my mouth to inspect my teeth, my nose. He told me to shave everything from the neck down for my birthday. Then he called my mother on the phone in front of me.

—I’m with Adrián. He has potential, a lot. I’m going to find him about five masters and we’ll hold an evening where he’ll be assessed by all of them and he’ll choose. That said: in payment for my mediation, I reserve the right to use him later. Agreed?

I couldn’t hear what she answered, but by Viktor’s expression I understood she had said yes, as long as I agreed and no one harmed me.

***

It didn’t take many days. My birthday was closing in. Viktor called a friend of his, a master named Roman, who a month earlier had asked him whether he knew any trustworthy submissives. He told him my story and asked him to organize a private party. Between them they prepared everything. It would be at a small estate with a stone tower inside it. Each guest had to arrive at an exact time and under a strict dress code. I had to show up the day before and sleep there.

I arrived at dusk the previous day. I was met by a boy wearing nothing but a chastity device. Without saying a word, he led me down to the basement, had me undress, and locked me in a stone cell. That night I barely slept: I dreamed about what was going to happen and woke up aroused more than once.

In the morning they served me breakfast and let me walk around the estate, always naked. Mid-morning the boy came to get me to prepare me. He took me back down to the basement, where they had built some baths among the stones. The water was very hot and everything was steam and dampness. He poured in some aromatic salts and, when I stood up, he soaped my body: first my back, then my torso, then the rest. He repeated the operation several times.

When he was done, he had me step out and perfumed me with an essence of woods. He bent me over what looked like a kind of horse until I was folded over, my gaze fixed on the floor. He prepared a bag with warm water and a laxative, and after a few seconds I felt the cramps. He sent me to the bathroom to empty myself and repeated it three times, until I was clean inside. After that he washed me again and took me to a room where I was locked in, waiting.

***

At five to eight they came for me. They put a mask on me and tied my hands. They took me to a room in the tower and left me in the center, on a platform. When all the guests had entered, they removed the mask. A spotlight blinded me from the front: I couldn’t see anyone except whoever came within a hand’s breadth of me.

Viktor stood behind me, lifted my arms above my head and tied them to a chain. He pulled on it until my feet barely touched the floor, held up in a precarious balance. He signaled and the music started. Five men approached, all mature, gaunt-looking and serious-faced. They touched me the same way Viktor had done in his house. They only had the right to do so until I chose one of them.

Viktor let me go. I walked slowly, with short steps, between those bodies, until I stopped in front of one of them. I knelt and lowered my head. The man lifted my chin, backhanded my cheek, and then placed his hand on the back of my neck and made me kiss his ring.

—From now on you answer to me —Roman said with a calm that was scarier than a shout.

That was the whole truce there was. He hauled me up, shoved me against a stone table, and took me in a single thrust, without preamble. Deep, shallow, fast, slow, setting the pace however he pleased while I clung to the edge of the table.

When he was done, he returned me to the original position, hanging from the chain, and gave me ten lashes. I counted aloud and thanked him after each one, as I had been taught to do. Then the other candidates took turns, five strokes each. By the time they let me go, my legs wouldn’t hold me and I collapsed to the floor.

Viktor helped me up and left me on all fours. Roman took me first; the other four followed, one after another, with the slightest consideration, as if I were nothing more than a place to unload. When they felt their orgasms coming, they moved me onto a large rectangular slab, sunken like a stone bathtub, and masturbated over me until they covered me completely in semen. Then, one by one, they urinated on me: first Viktor and the other masters, and finally my new owner.

—Now you’re mine —Roman said, looking down at me—. Every inch of your skin. Every hole belongs to me.

—At your feet, sir —I replied, humiliated and surrendered, before the final burst from my owner filled my mouth.