I remember it vividly, even 2 years later, not least because I still bear the remnants of scars yet to heal, physical that is.

After a high profile job as overseas director for a UK public company, forcing me to act very discreetly at all times, I found myself defrauded of much of my savings and investments. Having been associated with the hospitality industry for much of my working life, I decided to go into pub management. Frankly I was already too old (then 54) and “over-qualified” for every job I applied for since my company went bust. This seemed a reasonable option. My first pub in the north west of England had been closed for some time after a series of disastrous management appointments which had driven trade into the ground and allowed the pub to sink into squalor and disrepair. It was a challenge, and I embraced it, taking 3 days of long hours and hard work to clean it up and prepare to re-open. Once people knew we were again operating, trade slowly grew, enough to sustain me (just! – I was on a commission) but not to emply staff.

It was Sunday 31 July 2011, normally a quiet evening allowing me to close at 10.30pm instead of the usual midnight. There had been no customers since 6pm and I sat in the bar surfing a number of sites looking for some action. One “Quick Ad” on BBRT caught my attention, being only a couple of miles away, a Top looking for some “fuck & go” action that evening. Suited me perfectly. I emailed, a few minutes later had a reply, within 10 minutes we were chatting on the phone. We agreed he would come at 10.30pm as I closed, would decide when he arrived whether to fuck me in the bar or in the flat above, then leave. He remarked on my profile and asked if I was up for some bondage and S/m, of course I agreed.

At 10.25pm he arrived, his profile sated 50, looked more like 60, pot bellied, around 6ft tall and I’d guess at 200lbs, but as an experienced slave/sub have never believed I had the right to refuse any Superior. He was carrying a holdall which I assumed contained the toys and gear he intended to use. I closed the bar and he immediately told me to strip, easily done as I wore only T shirt and shorts, no briefs or jock, only flip-flops on my feet. In seconds I was on my knees sucking his semi- flaccid unwashed cock which quickly grew, causing me to gag and drool. Satisfied he told me to take him upstairs, he followed me, slapping my bare ass as I mounted the stairs. I could not conceal my own almost full erection.

He quickly got down to business, had me leaning forward over the end of the bed, kneeling on the floor, which is how he secured me with cuffs and ropes. My wrists were pulled towards the two corners of the headboard, stretching my arms painfully, my knees lashed to the legs either side of the bed, and feet held apart with a telescopic spreader bar. It was very uncomfortable and I knew would soon become painful, but as he was after a quickie I assumed it would not be for long.

The initial cracks of his cat were vicious, no warm up for this guy (I still do not know his name). I could not help but cry out, so he fitted a tube gag, and also blindfold. He used the cat, then belt, then a cane on my buttocks and thighs, and caned the soles of my feet. By now I was pulling at my restraints and sobbing into the gag, saliva collecting in a pool on the plastic sheet I had the foresight to place over the bed in anticipation, blindfold soaked with my tears. He was soon panting from the exertion and I heard him through the cane down, then felt his weight on my back. He clawed at my hole, nails cutting the anus as he forced t then three then four fingers into me with what felt like no lubrication. His cock followed, and as I had not been fucked for several weeks, and had not time to prepare myself, that thick 8 incher seemed like a fist as he forced his way slowly but deliberately into me. No time for me to get accustomed to the invader, he was quickly ramming full depth into me, rearranging my rectum with resulting sharp pains, then pulling back so the head oppoed out, then back in again.

For several minutes he continued this, the only sounds he made were guttural, animal like, until I felt him tense, he pushed as deeply into me as he could, and his deep, rasping voice said “here comes my poz load, boy!”. After shooting inside me, the warmth of his cum reminding me why I was there and helping me forget the uncomfortable bondage, he continued to lie on me, making it hard for me to breather, as his cock softened. I was not surprised when a new feeling of warmth in my rectum signalled that he had pissed inside me. At least that was over, and my own cock was again fully erect after softening during the heavy onslaught, and I could feel the precum on the plastic sheet.

But he did not release me, in fact he left me there and I wondered if he was looking for money and intended to rob me, not that there was much there. It must have been 10 or 15 minutes later that I heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and he returned with some other guys (I think I sensed 6 more, based on voices and the number of different cocks my ass and mouth catered to). What followed was a good 3 or 4 hours of almost continuous abuse. My arms and legs were numb when I was untied and pushed sideways across the bed, face up, and my wrists and ankles tied together 2 two of the bed legs leaving my ass exposed, my head hanging over the edge of the bed giving access to my mouth. After attempts to get his cock into the tube gag, someone removed it. I was face fucked many times, attempts at deep throat just created gagging and lots of mucus and liquid (drunk earlier, fortunately I had not eaten since breakfast), my upturned ass was caned and belted, my nipples clamped then pierced, and burned with cigarettes and cigars, and rarely was there a time when I did not have a cock in either or both holes. Not once did I feel or taste a condom, every fuck was bare, exactly the way I wanted it.

The guys drifted off as they lost interest, I reckon they all came at least twice, some more often, and I knew I would have to shampoo the carpet in the morning as they probably all pissed on me as a farewell gift. In the early hours he untied me, but did not remove the blindfold, sat over my face and I needed no prompting to rim him, wetly and deeply. The suddenly he stood up, told me to stay where I was for 10 minutes, and I heard him going down the stairs. I did wait, as instructed, not sure why, then removed the blindfold and surveyed the room. Apart from blood (from my anus), cum, piss, drool etc on the plastic sheet, and the obvious wet patches on the carpet, there was no evidence left of the previous few hours. I already knew that no condoms had been used, confirmed by the lack of them or the packaging. The next day I went to message the guy on BBRT to find he had deleted his profile, and the phone number he called me on had been disconnected. Maybe he was scared I would cry rape, or make a complaint. Far from it, I was still very sub then and only wanted to talk him into making it a regular event.

It was not long after that when I decided that my Dominant side was increasingly exercising itself in my mind, not because of that experience, in fact I probably would have reverted earlier had I not been reminded what it is like to submit without question or control, but something which had been festering inside me for some time suddenly clicked – and I did return to my original role as Master/Dom. When I have told this story to others the question invariably asked is “would you again put yourself in that position?”. My Dominant persona is quick to say a resounding “NO!”, but frankly I wish I could be that sure. It still bugs me to this day, on the second anniversary of my last experience as a cumdump and abuse slave. Oh, and those scars? Around my nipples where I was burned, on my ass cheeks and upper thighs where the bamboo cane split and raised welts, and a recurring anal fissure which was first caused that night.