Xavier in Provence

Formerly called 'Latextrainee - training a beginner'

[This is not really a story in that nothing is invented. It attempts to be an account of a great encounter, told from the Master's point of view, showing what goes on in his mind.]

As the morning passed, I felt I had every right to feel apprehensive about this meeting. The ‘acquaintance’ on the internet had been so short – less than a week; from initial contact to the agreement to visit had been done in record time. I had only one photograph (and that with him wearing sunglasses) to assess him – not that I mean by that to see if he measured up to some notion of beauty I might carry with me but I do like to see a man’s eyes, to look into them deeply to see what might lie behind.

So, in a sense I was abandoning many of the precepts I live by in arranging a meeting. However, on the plus side, there was a series of interesting conversations on chat line and phone that made me believe that there was sincerity, openness and honesty there. I liked the fact that he had wanted me to find him a name when he signed up for the chat programme; and that he kept emphasising that he wanted me to take control from the very beginning and not relinquish it. Son rather than slave, which was fine by me for as long as control is in place I do not mind what the nature of the relationship is. It is true that the specific nature can dictate certain things – the strictness of training, the degree of affection – but the underlying idea remains the same – to control. All of this was encouraging – but could equally be the basis of fantasy, rather than the reality I need. And I have been disappointed in the past when there was a similar degree of positive communication before a meeting.

Given the speed of the progression to this point, I was also not fully convinced that he would, in fact, turn up. A decision made when the libido is working overtime does not always stand up to harsh reality, which is bound to come at some point. Hence, all Tops and Masters have a history of last minute cancellations with their attendant excuses, by men chickening out at the last moment. I tried to be philosophical – and so if he came, he came; if not, then I would get on with my day.

On Sunday evening he assured me that he had hired a car and already picked it up so that he would be free to leave without delay the following morning. This, if anything, increased my apprehension. When someone goes to that trouble and expense and says he is prepared to drive 800 kilometres round trip for a visit of only twenty-eight hours, then it does put pressure on me to ‘deliver’, to make sure it works, to justify the time, effort and money. Other Masters I know scoff at this – they say, it is their decision and no part of your concerns, - but this is simply in my nature! I try to see things from the slave’s point of view so that I am halfway there when they are in front of me.

He did arrive and on time. I watched him through the blinds on the window as he made his way up the path. Tall, slim, hair longer than I usually see. What I noticed most, however, was no sign of timidity or fear. He walked briskly, not looking around him but single-mindedly heading for the front door. This was good.

When I came to him, he was, as instructed, kneeling on a rug, his hands behind his back, his head lowered. Jeans, tee-shirt, pullover, sneakers.

I rested a hand on his head, then his shoulder. There was no trembling, no outer sign of fear. I decided I could afford to build a little tension by not letting him see me for a while. He rose on command and preceded me into the living room. There I had him strip and resume his submissive position. Again there seemed to be no curiosity about his surroundings, just a concentration and focus on what he had been asked to do. Excellent.

Approaching him from behind, I began to feel his body with my rubber-gloved hands. Immediately he kicked into action, caressing the rubber on my body with increasing excitement. This was to be the first sign of what was to make him special. Many novices are rigid with fear; they respond to all commands in a daze, as if hoping that being robotic will see them through. Here was someone who did not know the usual form – of obedience, of waiting to be instructed before doing anything. His behaviour sprang from his nature and his instincts. Moving in front of him, I pushed his head down further, indicating that he was still not to look at me. I began to explore his body – he reacted to every caress or pinch as if electrically charged. The nipples were small, evidently unused to being played with – but there was no doubt that they were, as usual, strong indicators of being sexually aroused. His cock had been hard from the moment I saw him naked. I felt his balls – like his nipples, very sensitive and unused to being felt; also rather tight. There was work to do on those nipples and balls… I make it sound as if this was a cool, rather distant assessment. He did not allow it to be so – his hands were everywhere, touching and stroking so that I had to push him off me to get a good look.

Now, at last, I raised his head to look at me – and I saw him properly for the first time. The hair, as I said, was longer than I usually see – quite wild in a way, which made him seem younger than his thirty years. The mouth was well-shaped, and already revealing a broad grin – that smile was constant throughout his time with me and in a way his most characteristic ‘look’; the nose was strong and prominent, the eyes green, flecked with brown. A very handsome lad but that was not important. His nature was what I had to discover. Already I saw his sexiness, which came from being happy in himself, in his body and his mind, relaxed, humorous, easy-going. I felt I had fought for these things, through difficult years, but they were natural for him. Why had he waited so long to explore all this?

But his eyes drew me back – his gaze was frank and candid and he evidently had no fear of eye contact, which is always a vital element in a good session for me. I put a rubber collar around his neck and pulled him to his feet, his eyes never leaving mine, even as his mouth continued to explore. When he reached the level of my mouth, there was no stopping him – his tongue was in my mouth, exploring and kissing as if his life depended on it. When I say so often in my writings that no two sessions are the same, I mean it. And nothing had prepared me for the passion with which he involved himself. This was wonderful, of course, but already I knew I had a challenge on my hands in terms of controlling and regulating these wonderful natural instincts of his.

So I pushed him off and went behind him. His hands shot behind his back – not to assume a submissive position but to continue the touching and exploring. Gently, I placed a gloved hand over his mouth and drew him back to me. This is something I almost always do – any stiffness, any sign of resistance and I know that I have work to do, that I must work more for his trust; anyone who folds back with ease, naturally, I know I will have less trouble with. There was the slightest hint of rigidity before he came back to me. Good. I was to repeat this exercise the following day and found then that there was absolutely no resistance at all.

I inspected all of his body then, his long legs, his back, his shoulders, arms and hands, all muscles. Then turned him around to begin training him – but I had only just managed to say, ‘I know you want to be my boy but you must learn submission and respect…’ when his mouth lunged for mine again and he was whispering, ‘Please, make me your boy, make me your rubber toy’. I pushed him off again and held up a warning finger. ‘You may become my boy but first you must be trained as a slave would be.’ His mouth was back on mine. Again I pushed him back. ‘I am going to start you with bootlicking…’ Again his tongue was probing my mouth.

I retreated from him and again raised a finger. He stayed where he was but, deprived of the opportunity to stroke me, his right hand flew to his cock and he began masturbating furiously. I pulled it away – but this was the first sign of what was to be a recurring problem during our time together.

I took stock. I had to find some way of controlling this wild energy, of getting him into a more relaxed, and therefore receptive, frame of mind. I decided that, as he wanted to be transformed and find a different person inside himself, I would shave his cock and balls. I led him upstairs, he losing no opportunity to touch and kiss, and into the bathroom. I turned to pick up the scissors and again he was on me, his arms around me, nuzzling my neck and searching for my mouth. This was very different from any session I had ever had! I toyed with the idea of being more forceful with him – but quite honestly I was enjoying his responses. There might be things to be controlled but it was clear I would have no trouble coaxing his inner nature out of him.

He lay on a towel on the floor and I clipped as much and as closely as I could. Then I soaped him up and began to shave. He moaned with each stroke and his cock became harder than ever. But it was a stilling and slowing down exercise and little by little he quietened and accepted. I did not remove all his groin hair but instead created a circle around his cock and balls – that way there was a greater visual sense of having been shaved. No sooner had I announced I was finished and stood up than his hand was on his cock again. He still needed to be rinsed off so, while he occupied himself with his cock, I ran the cold tap for a minute, before cupping my hands under and filling them with water – which I promptly turned and flung on his groin. It stopped his masturbating. At least for a few minutes.

Back, down stairs, it was time to get him in some rubber. He knew he was a rubber fetishist, he had told me – even though he had never worn any, ever. I thought his height would pose a problem – he is 15 centimetres taller than me after all – but rubber stretches. I put him in a long-sleeved tee-shirt and a pair of rubber jeans. Rubber socks and a pair of gloves completed the outfit, which just about fitted. He was now close to being fully enclosed in rubber. His excitement knew no bounds – he was back on me, delighting in the feel of his rubberised body against mine. Rubber, and especially later, a gas mask, freed him even more if such a thing was possible. Immediately, he understood the transformative power of rubber, the way it helps you into finding a nature not constrained by society’s dictates. This realisation – which works equally for me – had been the main incentive for shedding my old notions that rubber was only for slaves.

I returned to where I had left off – to bootlicking. I ordered him down and he began to lick. I knew immediately that he was not a natural bootlicker – maybe even that he had no relish for it, maybe he simply had no interest in leather boots as opposed to rubber – but he did it. Having my boots licked can be the most boring of experiences, if it is not done with relish and a desire to relate. He was subtly different – though his wildness was stilled (possibly due to a lack of enthusiasm) he found his own way of making it work. His licking was sensual and always there was the desire for eye contact. From time to time between licks, he would rest his head on my boot. It was a picture of submission that I love. I was very turned on.

Now I pulled him up from the boot and onto my rubber legs. Much more his territory! From there to my cock – early for me to permit this but I already knew that this was an exceptional guy, whom I would take enormous pleasure in training. I would not stifle his natural passion and excitement but I would re-channel all that energy and control it.

I felt my preliminary assessment of him was over. Now was the time to begin testing his responses to activities that were going to be new to him.

I think I detected an element of wonder in him when we went to the dungeon. But only wonder, not fear. The shiver that went through his body was undoubtedly due to the cold – despite a fan heater working at full pelt since an hour before his arrival, the weather was freezing cold and he had just experienced for the first time the effect of rubber – how it can switch to feeling cold in an instant. I knew my time was short in that space but I wanted to try some things on him nonetheless. I fastened his arms in restraints to either end of the jail doors (still awaiting installation) and began to tease him, moving just beyond his range of mouth exploration! He bucked and struggled like a young colt but rather than fighting away he was still desperate for contact. At times this confused me until I recognised what he was up to – the convulsions and reactions he showed were always physical and verbal, often inarticulate sounds rather than words so that I was not certain if he was enjoying it or hating it. Undoubtedly it was both. I began to feel that he had discovered that very fine line between pleasure and pain, which lies at the heart of sm practice. Inarticulate, animal noises became our language at moments of high passion, suggesting new paths to explore.

At least now he could no longer play with his cock – which he had continued to do despite all instructions not to. He needed distraction, the piling on of more novelty to confound him, if only temporarily. I attached a chain, which was fastened to the wall, to his collar. Everything I did – all of it designed to bring him slowly but surely into submission – was a delight for him. He relished everything – new sounds, new pressures, new feelings. Generally, I am quite cool and distant on a first meeting as it tends to be something of an intellectual exercise for me. I wait for subsequent meetings to act instinctively on what I then know. But with him there was no question of this. I had got to an almost ideal stage very quickly – thanks to his pro-active energy. It was like a tennis match – every ball I hit at him came back as forcefully as I had sent it out.

I was already in that state I so love – where time and space disappear and there is only the present. And intense connection. I could not ever remember getting to that point so quickly. But I was brought back to reality by the cold. The cold brought me back to an awareness of where I was and all the long history that had brought me to this point and this place. I thought of others with whom I had reached similar heights - my ‘son’ currently in Japan, two Peters in Berlin, indeed various others in Berlin, Luc in Provence, Patrick from Paris, Danish Thomas in London, Claudio from Florence… all special. I knew that this boy was high among them.

I had no idea how long we had been there – longer than I had anticipated, so long was I lost in this electric current passing back and forth. We had to abandon the dungeon… I looked regretfully at some of the things I had hoped to try on him – but that had to be for another day and a change in climate.

Inside the house, I moved on to bondage – tied securely to a chair by long latex bands.

Not too tight – that is a pleasure ahead of him. He had been begging for a chastity device to be locked on him, to help him in his fruitless attempts to stop wanking. But really I saw chastity control as something for a later time – I was getting too much pleasure out of his conflicting desires, to please me and for self-gratification. Always so responsive, he was driven wild by being masked and blindfolded, while I played with his cock and balls, now using bare hands to stroke, followed by lubed, gloved hands. It was wonderfully sensual for us both. It also had an element of torture in it – his cock head had become incredibly sensitive due to his continued wanking so that my touch had him moving between heaven and hell. I felt that this was pay back time for his constant disobedience on this subject.

There is no need to give a blow by blow account of all we did for the rest of that day and the next until his departure. Suffice it to say that I worked on imposing a few rules, making him address me as Sir, teaching him a few basic positions and commands. Anything I introduced him to he accepted. The fact that he took so naturally and eagerly to each successive development made me think that his potential was colossal. Many things that I would have held back from trying on someone so new to it all – hoods, deprivation of senses, the beginning of breath control, vac-rack and sleep sack immobilisation, as well as more mainstream elements such as bondage – he embraced with the same passion. I was torn by different impulses – to ‘let go’ and see where it went or to attempt to impose a structure on the session. I opted for compromise, giving myself over to the passion of the moment but also now and again pulling back and re-asserting the fact that I was still in control. Thus, I was constantly letting myself go – and then withdrawing to impose some order and structure on the whole thing.

I responded to what he threw at me – so that I was conflicted as to what I should test him with next – all seemed wonderful to him. I did not want to overstretch him – or spoil him. It is difficult to decide what to do when all is received with such rapture. I felt I could have gone in a dozen different directions, down different paths and was always looking for a clue as to the best way forward. But ultimately that did not matter – we were both exploring each other and I would pounce on the slightest hint of a way forward when it presented itself. Certainly my objective detachment had disappeared far more than usual.

I will say a few things more about certain activities that particularly impressed me. Later that evening, still rubberised, and mellow with good wine, a meal and relaxed chat, I decided to explore his arse. He was very tight – I suspect he was a virgin, in fact. I worked very slowly and gently – just with one finger. At one point, groaning loudly, he asked me how many fingers I had inserted! But he was so eager to continue and I was equally keen to exploit his willingness for everything I suggested, that I fetched a dildo – a replica of a cock, about six inches long and not very thick. For a novice it is the thickness that usually causes difficulties. Little by little and with a lot of encouragement he took it all – and then he loved it. He wanted to know if it took batteries! His appetite for exploration was impossible to restrain.

The following day, I wanted to develop this – and produced a heavy metal butt plug, which widened to something rather bigger than the dildo of the evening before. I started again with a finger – and was astonished at how eagerly and easily it was sucked in. He was evidently much more relaxed with me than the day before, exceptional though that had been. I pointed this out to him and he could not understand – he insisted he was relaxed with me totally the previous day – but I said that I had the evidence before me now – his mind had altered, subtly, and he was in a more submissive and accepting head space than he had been. The butt plug did cause him pain – but he was determined to take it. So was I. Even while gently applying pressure, I thought of how difficult this plug had been for others and how I had forced the issue by ramming it home. But those guys were simply wimps – this one genuinely wanted to please me. He took it, sat on it, put on a one piece combination rubber suit which helped to hold it in place.

From time to time he would whisper to me ‘You are such a pervert – but please make me into a pervert like you!’ I knew I had only begun to scratch his potential.

And what about his constant attempts to wank? On the second day I felt enough was enough and I had allowed him too much licence in this. I warned him that from now on infractions would be instantly punished – by beating, which I knew he feared. Less than two minutes later he was bent over a chair and received six forceful slaps with my heaviest rubber gloves. He did not enjoy it, but again he accepted it, despite a hand at one point reaching frantically behind to ward me off. Little by the standards of many guys but it did work – and I had no further problems. The real difficulty is with slaves who cannot be punished heavily enough…

I permitted him an orgasm – but I told him to hold off until I told him to cum. When I told him to cum, he shot immediately. Over the time he stayed with me, I allowed him to cum three times – and each time he shot when I ordered him to.

I felt great responsibility and great tenderness for him – he had come so far, so quickly and had offered so much. The defining moment – and the one that produced MY orgasm (!) - was when he was in the sleep sack on the floor. He gave every indication of being wholly relaxed and content – it was clear that masking and bondage hold a special appeal for him. But when I lay beside him to whisper into his ear through the gas mask, he struggled again and again to feel me against him, rolling on his side, pulling his legs up, bucking and struggling for contact. There was a perfection in this moment for me. Do not ever think that intensity only comes in extreme moments or situations – the most ordinary activities can be imbued with a shattering intensity. And so it was for me at that moment. And so, unusually for me in a first session, I shot.

I think he was surprised that someone as experienced as I am could be so excited by what he felt was so little. But I hope I have indicated the things I look for – and fundamental to that is a sense of connection. That was something I felt very strongly on this occasion but feel not often enough.

I was tempted to ask him to stay on, another day at least – I wanted it, would have relished the opportunity just to keep going. But I remembered that this was so new to him. He had a lot to assimilate. And we had gone far already. Heroically, I let him go!

All the time he was with me, I was testing him, placing him in situations to see how he would react. I am obsessed by sm and all its implications but I also lead a life in the ‘normal’ world, no matter that my friends know my tastes and interests. I exposed him to that, too. Friends called by for drinks on the first evening and I watched how he would cope, knowing that they knew, if only in abstract, what he had been up to (one of them a straight woman). And then there was me - seeing me in jeans and shirt (albeit over my rubber body suit!), interacting with people at a remove from what we had been so recently immersed in. These are the contradictions that I seek to reconcile so that my life flows and has no dramatic separations. He was poised and charming, though I am sure he was conscious of the rubber he was wearing underneath his casual clothes, and the sensitivity of certain parts of his body.

A brief digression – I know I am talking about clichés here, my own ‘prejudices’ when it comes to national identity. I have found Spaniards rather rigid for all their reputation as fiery dynamos, the same for Italians, the French can go for it with a passion when they decide it is right, so too the English who tend to conceal perversity, Chinese and Indonesians are very ‘giving’, the Flemish very rule-bound, the Germans the wildest and so on. In each case, I have exceptions to all these clichés. Ultimately we are talking about impulses in human nature, which our various societies seek to control and inhibit and that imposes varying cultural norms. I, too, am the victim of my upbringing! But there is a space, in all of us, which we either attempt to find or to ignore. We search for the essential self, free of all trappings and imprints. Occasionally, we glimpse it – it is our Holy Grail. I search for total submission on the part of the guy I am with, a sense of being in total control on my part. I have found it in men now and again. I saw it again in this Catalan.

As for me, when he left, I found myself hoping that this was just the beginning of a long, special project.

Part two of this account has not been written - but you can see how this relationship developed in the galleries Xavier in Berlin in the Rubber section.