ASSUME THE POSITION (A Slice of the Author's Life Story) by Ron Dalanor For me, the first few months, after discovering the sheer pleasure of man-sex, were filled with a myriad of experiences. If its plumbing was on the outside, I wanted to fuck it. When the novelty wore off, however, I figured out what I did and did not desire. What was it about men that made my desire for them stronger than my desire for women? Duh? It wasn't a difficult question to answer. The thrill of conquest over someone masculine was greater than the joy of conquest over someone feminine. Don't get me wrong; I had lots of sweet, romantic sexual encounters with women. But, hot, sweaty, grubby, rough, and down and dirty sex with men would set the rockets off in every part of my body. Unfortunately, all men are males, but not all males are men. I didn't want something pretty to fuck; I wanted something innately masculine. The "fluff and fold" guys just didn't do anything for me. These guys spent far too much time working to achieve "the look" to have it ruined by something as mundane as raw passion. They are the Xerox guys; they dress alike, wear their hair alike, walk alike, and talk alike. If you dated enough of them, you thought you were trapped in reruns of the Patty Duke Show. Give me a guy who would rather have you fuck him rough, hard and long than look at him any day. Sandy was that kind of guy, but it took me a while to figure how great he was. It was late summer 1977, when Gene, a married guy that a screwed on a regular basis, first broached the subject of introducing Sandy to me. Gene, who was an assistant prosecutor in Knoxville, liked to think of himself as kinky. In truth, Gene was to kinky sex what Yoko Ono was to music. Gene had too many restrictions to make a real rough sex session pleasurable; he was always concerned that his wife would detect something. Thus, my sexual encounters with Gene usually just involved my fucking the piss out of him. As Gene felt my interest in him wane, he tried to do things that would make me feel obligated to him and keep him around. Gene admitted that he wasn't able to fully satisfy Sandy and that their sex consisted of his blowing the guy. My reaction to the idea of being introduced to this man was cool which forced Gene to pull out his trump card. "He's a state trooper, and he likes it really rough!" Gene said hoping for a positive reaction. After gathering some more details about this possible trainee, I told Gene to arrange a nonsexual meeting in his office. Since Sandy had to testify in court in an accident case, it worked out that the meeting was to occur in a couple of weeks from that night. It happened that Sandy lived in Crossville which was west of Rockwood where I lived; he would be a much closer trick than Gene who lived forty-five minutes east of my location. When Sandy walked in and removed his "Smoky the Bear" hat, I began to carefully check him out. He seemed pretty average, and nothing in his demeanor lead me to expect anything spectacular from him. He was, I guessed, a tad over six feet tall and solidly built. Though clean shaven, he seemed to have a heavy beard as evidenced by the deep beardline shadow. Sandy's face was the kind better attributed to a character actor than to the leading man. His short and neatly trimmed hair was light brown with just the slightest subtle red haze woven into the color. The prolific hair that covered his arms was a brassier sun stained red-gold. His uniform shirt seemed to stretch across a pair of nice pecs, and his trousers were anything but baggy in the butt. His ass sat snugly in them and could be described, in butt evolutionary terms, as the generation just before the bubble butt. It was enough to hold your interest, but it wasn't enough to drive you insane from just looking. Sandy's eyes were the feature that held my attention. They were hazel, but the flecks of green on the brown were emerald and not a dull green. The eyes were enough to put me in Sandy's corner and a few of his other tight places. Gene left us alone to talk for a while. The banter between us was subtle, hot and effective. The guy was real and genuine, and his desire to be dominated as well as used and abused for another's pleasure was deep-seeded. We agreed to meet for a training session a few days later. "Wear the uniform!" I said as I headed for the door. "Yes, Sir!" Sandy replied with controlled enthusiasm in his voice. In the time before Sandy's first session, I gave great thought as to how I would proceed with him. Always before, I had been too tentative with my boys, but now experience as well as desire had every nerve synapse in my brain firing in methodical frenzy. When I was done with him, he would be able to desire no other without memories of me flooding into his mind. Before he arrived, I laid out everything I needed in easily accessible positions in all of the rooms I planned to use. I even set the stereo so that the base was high and would send the sounds of Wagner pulsing unobtrusively through the walls covering any screams that I might produce from my boy. When I opened the door, Sandy stood their in uniform with boots highly polished. He stood just a little too confident for my tastes, and that had to be dealt with right away. As he stepped in, I told him to place the hat and gun on the nearby table. I kept very little distance between us; proximity is quite an intimidating factor. It became obvious that anticipation had given him a good case of nerves as he fumbled a bit to remove the gun from its holster. With the gun and hat positioned safely, he turned back to face me. I grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him into the door on which the dorsal portion of his body made a profound thud. "Not fast enough, faggot! You'll have to obey orders much quicker, do much better!" I yelled directly into his face pressing the advantage of my surprise attack on his person. The look of shock was obvious. Like most guys who are taller, his expectation was that he might have to feign physical submission a bit to allow completion his domination fantasy; he could not have been more inaccurate. My strength plus my slightly lower center of gravity had always made me more than able to erase natural physical resistance and cope with automatic responses. "Yes, Sir." Sandy's voice trembled after regaining the air my shove had removed. His air of confidence was dissipating rapidly as evidenced by his body's assumption of a nonverbal demeanor more in line with his submissive status. I did not move or talk; I simply held him in place and starred into his face. The close distance and silence began the erosion of his mental resistance. He couldn't take it very long before he had to break the silence. "I'm sorry, Sir! I want to please you, Sir! Teach me how, Sir. Please, Sir!" Sandy uttered most submissively and with genuine sincerity. The right behavior would always be rewarded. I stepped back giving him some room, and I could see some of the tension in his body subside. Before too much time could elapse, I ordered him to his knees. He dropped without hesitation. I was pleased; he understood that, unlike the few experiences he had told me about in Gene's office, this was not going to be another Ted Mack's Original S&M Amateur Hour. I stepped in close once again. His gaze seemed hopefully fixated at my crotch. I grabbed his jaw in my right hand and snatched it upward forcing him back on his haunches. "You're a fuckin' hopeless piece of shit, son. You will probably never live up to my standards. But, I am gonna turn you into something so that the next poor son of a bitch who winds up with you will have a half decent boy to work with!" "Thank you, Sir!" Sweat had beaded upon his brow and soaked the chest and armpits of his shirt, but he was enjoying the hell out of this. I could tell by the rod he was throwing in his pants. I walked away leaving him there to ponder what was to come. I stepped into the kitchen, poured myself a cup of coffee, and lit a cigarette before I returned. I pulled a chair from the table where his gun and hat rested and sat down. Sandy remained on his knees with his head bowed. I needed the coffee and the cigarette before I moved him to the next level. The next step was a tenuous one for me because it fed one of my fantasies. I had to make sure I controlled the fantasy rather than letting it control me. I stood up, dropped my shorts, and stepped out of them. Now, only the black tank and the leather studded jock remained. I adjusted my hard dick so that only the big head of it showed at the waist band of the jock. "Okay, queer bait! It's time for you to suck some cock!" Sandy looked up slightly puzzled at first, but quickly crawled over to me. I pulled him to his knees by his hair and ordered him to lick every stud on my jock. His loving compliance was admirable, but not enough to keep me from pushing his head into the studs and grinding them into his face. I kicked away my sandals and pressed his face to my feet. I made him lick every inch of both feet as well as take each toe into his mouth and wash each with his tongue. I pulled my cock through the crotch slit in the jock, and I grabbed Sandy's hair holding him just out of reach of my fuck pistol and forcing him to look at me. "Want some of this dick, cocksucker?" I taunted. "Yes, Sir!" he replied. "How much do you want it?" I continued to tease. "I need it real bad, Sir!" " You NEED my dick, boy?" "Yes, Sir. I need your dick real bad!" "Beg for it!" I demanded. " Please, Sir! I need your cock! I'll suck it real good, Sir! Let me love it, Sir!" "Lick it, boy! Lick my fuckin' dick!" It was just what I wanted; it was one of my fantasies. I had a real state trooper on his knees, begging for my dick and then licking it with great devotion. His tongue caressed the swollen head of my cock; he covered every area between the tip and the foreskin making sure he lapped up any juice that had run out the piss slit. He continued to tongue fondle every inch from the tip to the base. His tongue worship of my dick was sending me into mental frenzy in an attempt to maintain control over my own joy. "Ok, boy, suck your Master's dick! Take it all and suck it all the way down!" He took my dick into his mouth ever so gently as if it were a fragile eggshell holding a treasure within. Sandy used his lips to pulled further down the shaft dragging my rod across his ever embracing tongue. Every trip he made up and down my dick was sending every nerve in my body into a spastic chaos. Moving slowly as not to dislodge myself from his mouth, I sat down. I grabbed the back of his head and pressed him all the way down on my dick. I grabbed his ears and began moving him up and down at just the rate and depth that I wanted. Realizing that I was getting complacent, I forced my cock down his throat till he choked. His hands moved to halt the intrusion, but midway they stopped and simply flailed in midair as Sandy realized he could not touch unless given permission. He took the punishment and gagged and slobbered as I wished to see him do. Nothing breaks a cocksucker's spirit faster than to be forced to handle a pole in a manner not of his own choosing, especially when that way generates great physical discomfort. I pushed Sandy away. While he used the time to mentally and physically regroup, I took a last drag on my cigarette and another sip of coffee. "On your back, asswipe!" Sandy obeyed. I removed the jock and knelt over his head. I lowered my throbbing rod into his mouth all the way to the back of his throat. I then began to fuck his face. Little by little, I picked up the pace and forced my dick deep into his throat. Tears welled up in his eyes and slipped down the side of his face. I saw that the small wet spot in his pants had now become the size of a half dollar. After one last deep thrust, I pulled out and eased my position up a bit and ordered him to lick my balls. His ability to follow commands was excellent. His tongue lick and flicked across my nuts making every attempt to please. Most guys would have screwed up here by sucking at the nutsac. I hate having some clown attempt to find the right suction on my nuts to produce pleasure; I much prefer having them licked till they are dripping wet. I eased forward once again placing my ass less than an inch from his face. "Eat my shit hole! Get that tongue up in their and clean it out good!" I barked. Sandy's tongue swabbed all around flicking at the ridge of flesh between my balls and hole. I worked to muffle my own pleasure groan. His tongue probed inside, and I lowered myself onto it. I ground my ass down on his tongue purely for my own pleasure and I watched my dick ooze its happy drip response. I'm the kind of guy who allows nothing into his ass except a good, hot tongue, and this one intuitively knew how to work the portal for maximum impact. Again, I had to remind myself not to get lost in my own pleasure until I got Sandy to the point of no return. Though my legs were weak from the passionate tongue lapping I was receiving, I managed to pull myself up. Sandy was commanded to his feet and to strip himself as well. He hurriedly disengaged himself from all the clothing, but not once did he even glance in my direction as he did so. Phase one was done; it was time to move him to phase two. Sandy stood before me naked for the first time. His face glowed crimson from the embarrassment; his cock bobbed from within its red bush and then began a slow dissent. I liked what I saw. His body was fleshy and firm, not so sculpted that you couldn't get a handful. Sandy was moderately hairy all over, but his freckled frame was not completely covered. I walked around and inspected my property. His meaty pink tits were flanked by wisps of reddish hair, and his copper colored butt hair seemed to be illuminating the runway to his hole. His unassuming masculinity, the uniform, and his red hair had sent the gears of my libido cranking. I directed him down the hallway to the dimly lit room on the right. It served as my workout room and den. In the center of the room, was my weight bench sans weights. On either side of the bench, I had placed a couple of small tables, and each was covered with some of the tools of my trade. Sandy was ordered to lie on the weight bench with his head extending through and past the solid metal uprights. I stood behind his head and began to laugh at him. I laughed for no reason other than to generate a new unknown to him. He knew he could not speak until spoken to, and inquiries as to motivations were out of the question. Sandy could only ponder about the laughter. That was exactly my purpose; trainees have to be kept off balance. The anticipation as to what is to come is the catalyst to much of their pleasure. "Pussy boy, show me what a good cocksucker you are! Suck my dick nice and slow!" I demanded as I moved it above his face. Sandy was on my pole in a flash, adroitly raising his head and shoulders to devour my cock tenderly and greedily. While Sandy made himself the crown prince of the wiener washers, I had other things in mind. I grabbed braided leather cords from the table; each of these cords had a noose end for securing the appropriate appendage and a tailed end which allowed me to secure the restraint to whatever object I chose. I proceeded to subdue his wrists in the noose and then secure the restraints by tying each to the uprights just beneath the y-prongs which normally held the weights. Sandy did not resist; he seemed too engrossed in swallowing my dick. I wasn't sure exactly what had done it, sucking dick or being tied up, but Sandy's rod was fully erect again. Quickly, I stepped from the top of the weight bench to the side and dropped the noosed leather cords, also braided, over his feet. I pulled each noose tight to his ankle, and, then, I yanked his legs into the air. Each was tied to the back branch of the y-prong after an elaborate looping and relooping around the uprights, the y-prongs, and the already secured cords. Sandy was ordered to try and free himself, and, after an earnest struggle, he could not. I was pleased. Single leather cords had broken before, but braiding them had solved that problem. Sandy was helpless and vulnerable in that position, and it showed on his face. His legs pointed upward in a v-shape exposing his ass to me. Those muscled, hairy buttocks were to be the next focus. "You got a nice tight pussy for me to play with, boy?" I queried. "Yes, Sir." "How many times has that cunt of yours been fucked?" "Three, Sir." I leaned over and attempted to shove my index finger into his hole. It was tight; my finger did not get very far at all. And, for the fucking I planned for that ass, it needed to be considerably looser. I got a container of hot lube and sat on the end of the weight bench. It was the kind of non-chemical lube that seemed to warm and slightly burn as it made contact with flesh. I stuck my finger into the jar to coat it with the stuff. I slapped Sandy's ass hard just as I jammed my finger into his fuck hole. His ass reddened, and he struggled to hold back the scream. A low whine escaped. As I continued to work my finger in and out, that whine became a moan. I rubbed a nice thin coating of the lube all over his ass crack and his balls. As he flinched and struggled, I laughed and stood. "What's the matter, faggot? Is that pussy of yours itching for some dick?" I chortled. "Please, Sir!" he begged. Again, with his mind otherwise engaged by the hot sensations in his ass and balls, it was time to change the direction and intensity of things. I grabbed a strap from the table. The sound of it as it struck his ass was ferocious. I watched Sandy struggle and try to handle the pain without crying out. I continued beating his ass and was careful to strike the fleshiest part where the nerve endings were surface level and no real damage would be done. "Please, Sir! I'm sorry, Sir! I'll do better, Sir!" he sobbed loudly. I seated myself again facing his ass. This time I worked my finger in with little resistance; it was followed by a second and a third finger. "Good boy!" I said coldly. "Thank you, Sir!" Sandy submissively replied. We were almost ready to move on to the next level, but there were a couple of other things that had to be done. I inserted a butt plug into him, and strapped a cockring around his cock and balls. It was a studded cockring, but I had pried up the prongs that held the studs in place just enough so that the wearer felt metal biting into his flesh. I also fastened a dog collar around his neck. After untying him but leaving the noosed leather cords on his wrists and ankles, I used the dog collar to unceremoniously jerk him to his feet and drag him across the hall to my bedroom. I kept this room dark as well with only a burning candle too provide illumination. I also had laid out the necessary equipment on the nightstand. I shoved him to his knees with his torso forced onto the bed. I sat on his buttocks and blindfolded him. I pulled the ball-gag from the nightstand and ordered him to open his mouth. As soon as he did I shoved the ball portion in and tied the straps that ran through it around his neck securing them to the dog collar he wore. Knowing that I would have to work quickly, I tied his arms and legs to the four posts of the bed leaving him face up. Unable to move, to see or to speak, the tension rapidly built up inside Sandy. I could see the muscles of his body tense up in near panic. Again, I laughed loudly. Before the laughter subsided, I grabbed his cock and twisted it hard. Sandy tried to scream, but the ball-gag only distorted the sound into a mangled vibration. I next took elastic cord and tied off his balls as tightly as I knew he could stand. He struggled and thrashed and tried to cry out. I stepped back to admire my handiwork and to give him time to realize the futility of his attempts toward freedom. "Slave boys are like cattle, son. They got to be roped, tied and branded!" I said after his thrashing ceased. I took the candle and began to drip hot wax on his body. I began with the chest dripping wax all around his nipples - never on them just around them. Not knowing what was happening to him sent Sandy's mind into full panic, and his body soon followed. His wrists and ankles reddened from his brawl with the restraints. His head flailed, his face contorted and he gagged on his own attempts to speak. But, this panic was also pure pleasure to him. His dick hardened and bounced as each drop of hot wax hit his skin. I followed the trail of hair down the center of his abdomen stopping only long enough to fill his belly button. I proceeded toward his cock. His struggling was more of a sensual writhing now, and the only noises distorted by the gag were moans. As I watched his pubic hair become coated with wax, his cock danced both up and down and back and forth as a steady stream of shimmering fairy nectar seeped out. He had completely given himself over to the moment; it was time to move on. I loosened the nooses and slipped all four of them free. I rolled Sandy over onto his stomach, replaced and tightened each leather noose once more. I pulled the butt plug out and carefully scraped all the residue from it back into his twitching chute. I pushed it all back inside with my middle finger, and I felt his ass tighten and untighten as if to pull my finger further inside. I removed the ball-gag and tossed it to the floor. After plugging in a small strobe light, blowing out the candle and taking care of one other necessary detail, I climbed onto the bed and straddled his ass. I began to hump his butt so that my dick slid up and down between his ass cheeks. The lube coated rubber allowed it to glide easily on his ass crack; Sandy was literally humping the bed. He was more than ready. "Boy, that pussy juice is running all over your cunt. I think that ass of yours needs a good hard packin'!" I leaned forward and pulled off the blindfold. Before his senses could adjust to going from no light to light distorted images, I shoved my cock deep into his ass. A reflex reaction to the ass invasion sent his face to the mattress which absorbed most of his violent scream. I wanted this guy badly. I pressed my body flat against his and slipped my arms around him in a bear hug. My hips began their natural rhythmic thrusts, and I settled into the feeling of his ass caressing my dick as it dove in and out. I found myself clutching him tighter and tighter in an effort to make time stagnate in the moment. With my body covering his and my head nestled on his, I heard his moaning, I felt his heat, and I sensed his masculinity. Gradually, all of this was moving me out of the orbit of control. My hips seemed to have a game plan all their own. The pelvic thrusts went from a motion akin to churning butter to one like the rough stirring of a cup of hot coffee. Sandy's ass kept fucking back on my dick begging for more and more. The intensity was building, and I couldn't fully control either the motion or speed as I fucked into his man-cunt deeper and harder and faster. "Fuck me! Fuck your boy, Sir! Make me your whore, Sir! Make it hurt, Sir!" Sandy moaned out load. With those words, my lust went into overdrive. I bit hard into his shoulder as I pounded at his ass without mercy. Sandy screamed; his body went rigid then bucked uncontrollably. A stream of monosyllabic words and sounds rushed from him. I raised up, grabbed his shoulders and went for broke. Before his orgasmic spasms ended, mine began. I pulled and pushed and ground my cock into him trying to deposit my load at the center of his being. Then reality escaped me. I remained disoriented for a few moments; the strobe light had even taken its toll on me. I finally was able to pull myself off and out of Sandy. Leaving him there in his quiet mental, physical and emotional jumble, I staggered out to the kitchen. The muscles of my arms and legs struggled to function. Caffeine and nicotine were my only thoughts. As I sat, smoked and drank, my internal control mechanism once again seized power. However, full control did not return before I pondered if I would be able to carry out the rest of the plan I had for this man. With each drag on my cigarette and with each sip of coffee, my resolve became stronger. It was time for the final phase. I went to the bedroom, turned on the light, freed Sandy from his bonds, and retrieved him from his journey to dreamland. I pulled him up by his slave collar, ushered him to the bathroom, and sat him on the john. "If you've got too piss or shit, boy, now is the time to do it!" I commanded. "Thank you, Sir!" he groggily replied. "Clean this while you're sitting there, fairy boy!" I said as I shoved my half flaccid dick in his face. Half flaccid was a temporary state after he went to work on it. He still had desire, and that was what all the rest of my plan needed from him. I left him there after ordering him to clean himself up. I grabbed my discarded tank from the bedroom and my shorts from the living room, and I redressed making sure to stuff a condom and a small packet of lube into my pocket. I went back to the bathroom and made Sandy stand at attention against the bathroom wall as I attacked a tit clamp to each of his nipples. I watched and enjoyed his grimacing as the teeth of each clamp dug into its meaty target. I also checked to see that the cockring was tight enough to still do its job. I made Sandy redress but omit the undershirt and the tie. His face showed amazement when I ordered him out the door and into my car, but he obeyed without hesitation. Rural Tennessee has lots of deserted back roads, and I had one of them in mind. It only took ten minutes or so to get where I wanted to go, but I made the most of the short journey by making Sandy suck my cock the entire way there. It also kept him from knowing exactly where he was. The black satiny blanket of early morning, the wind rushing across my face, and a hot man giving me great head made for quite an adrenalin rush. It was three o'clock in the morning, and I was a man with a mission. Soon we turned off onto a gravel road. I drove until I saw the grove a trees I had burned into my memory for just the right occasion. The trees and the ample space where others had once pulled off the road were on my side. I turned the car around so that we were facing the direction from whence we came. I directed Sandy to get out of the car. I exited and walked around to him. "Assume the position!" I barked. Unprepared for this, Sandy hesitated. I moved in tight to him, grabbed him by the dog collar and shoved his upper body onto the hood of the car. I snatched the handcuffs from the back of his belt, put my elbow in the center of his back, pulled his arms back and cuffed him. "Your luck has run out, pussy boy! You gotta learn how to take dick like a man!" I yelled at him. Though it had only been rehearsed in my mind, I undid his belt and trousers and had them at his ankles almost without a hitch. The only obstacle encountered was getting them past his rock hard cock. This fucker was enjoying this every bit as much as I was. "Not here! Oh, God! Please, Sir!" Sandy begged. With his fuck hole lubed and my cock dressed for the occasion, I grabbed his collar and launched my attack on his ass fortress. Having already dropped a load, I knew the second one had to be royally primed before it would arrive to crown this fuck session. I plowed Sandy's butt wildly. His screams echoed and faded in dead air. The more noise he made, the harder and the faster I shoved my fuck staff into his willing palace. Sandy's constant repeating of the phrases - "Oh, fuck!", "Oh, God!", and "Oh, shit!" - with each deep thrust I made into him soon faded from my perception. I wanted and needed to cum again, but I had to concentrate to get there before I wore out my welcome in his hot, tight fuck hole. I replayed every act and every response from earlier. The rumbling in my balls neared the boiling point. I yanked my dick from his ass, shoved Sandy to his knees, tossed aside the condom, and forced my dick into his mouth. I was only able to shove his head up and down my dick a few ties before I started to spew and scream like a madman. I impounded his head as I unleashed my load down his throat. I felt him gag and I felt jiz run out of his mouth and down his chin. I released my grip on his head, but he remained in place sucking and tonguing every bit of my juice. Sandy, howling like a wounded wolf, grabbed his own dick, and, as soon as he did, he shot a load all over my leg. He fell forward using me to keep himself from collapsing to the ground. I pulled the key from his pocket and released him from the handcuffs. Sandy dropped to all fours and proceeded to lick all of his own cum from my leg as well as to make sure he hadn't missed any of mine. My mission had been accomplished. We drove home as the first light of dawn began to crack the sultry cloak of darkness. Once back to my place and in bed, Sandy snuggled up to me in a most childlike fashion. Sleep consumed us, but the lust of real man-sex had bonded us in a deep, special and unerasable way. Whenever I see the pretty boys - fully accessorized with shit for brains and MTV emotions - flitting about or standing and modeling as they search for their next GQ cover guy to take home, I chuckle to myself. They can keep their tepid sex which allows for nothing that doesn't maintain every carefully coiffed hair in its place. As for me, I want sex messy, sweaty, down and dirty with a genuine person who without effort is also a real man.