Erotica Harem

David’s caveat: I promise to always be polite and respectful while giving honest reviews. Dealing w/ me is akin to shopping at the store: take what you want and leave the rest.
Please don’t ‘read between the lines’ with my comments. I say what I think free of insinuations.

Keep writing and always have fun!


Title: Descent

Chapter: 3

Author: Alex Morgan

Plot: Todd enjoyed his time w/ his first ‘daddy’ and learns. He decides he wants to be a 24/7 slave to Master Mike, from Chapter 2. He emails him and is rejected. After a few weeks of self-pity and depression Todd emails Mike and asks him to reconsider. He does and they are set to meet.

Style & Voice: 1st person via Todd. Consistant.

Referencing: Okay. I still have no idea what state/country this is in although I assume the USA.

Scene/Setting: I think it could use a bit for work? What he does? Not sure, but certainly about his home.

Characterization: Good. I feel I’m set in Todd’s head.

Grammar: Good w/ a few comments in text.

Just My Personal Opinion: 1,713 words. (NOTE: I count words as an idiosyncrasy.)
Oh MY! I’m learning.



I remained with Daddy Rob for most of the next day. He taught me much about the leather and BDSM community that I never knew nor had any notion existed. Ah, this compound sentence seems rough, and banal. No suggestions now, but… I wanted to stay with him and learn more, but he chuckled when I asked.

“I’m not looking for a twenty-four seven slave, boy,” he said. The smile on his face told me that he was flattered that I wanted to be with him.

I begged and pleaded with him until we reached a compromise. He would be my daddy, my mentor in the world of slavery.

“I can only take you so far before it gets too hard core for me.”

“Is Master Mike pretty extreme?” I asked.

The smile disappeared from Daddy Rob’s face. “I don’t know him well, but I’ve heard he is really, really into it. I’m sure a lot of other guys at the bar could tell you more about him.”

“Cool!”

I started going to the leather bar every night it was open, getting to know the staff and regulars. I searched the Internet and read everything I could find on sexual slavery, BDSM and the concept of Power Exchange. What would drive a man to give up complete control to another? I was surprised to discover that it went way beyond sex. Some masters took over their slaves need an apostrophe after the ‘s’. lives to the point they were dependent on him for everything.

Imagine that, I wondered. Not have to worry about anything. Master could take care of life and all. No cares except to take care of him. I can do that.

At long last, I found someone who knew Master Mike. We sat at the bar, drinking beer that I bought for us.

“That’s one serious dude,” my new friend Steve told me. “He doesn’t come in here very much at all. In fact, I don’t think I have seen him since the slave auction. He doesn’t waste too much time searching the bars for potential slaves since very few guys here are serious or committed enough to become full-time. Most guys want to maintain some sort of control over their own lives. To turn oneself over completely to another man is beyond what only a handful of people in the world would do or could do.”

“I want to be one of that handful,” I said, the eagerness and conviction evident in my tone.

Steve just smiled. “if you really think you’ve got what it takes, Master Mike recruits potential boys, subs and slaves through a web-site he maintains. He also blogs about their training.”

My heart took a leap when Steve wrote down the Internet address for me. I slipped off my bar stool down to my knees between his I think u need a comma here. I had to read it 3 times to get it. But, HOT scene. underneath the lip of the bar. He spread his legs welcoming me in.

I unzipped his fly and took his delicious dick into my mouth. I surprised myself at the lack of hesitation. A pet peeve of mine. I want to know about the undies, too. Before the slave auction and my training with Daddy Rob, I wouldn’t have blown a guy in a bar like this. I suppose the element of getting caught or being seen added a sense of danger to it, which excited me. OMG, I’d be SO FRIGGING scared.

Steve sat on his stool sipping his beer as if nothing else was happening. Hmm, is that a head jump? From the muttering and chuckling going on around us, I knew the other bar patrons were watching us. I heard their low voices talking with impressed tones that Steve was getting serviced. It felt good to be noticed for what I could do and my willingness to do it in such a public place.

I was so ready for Master Mike. Although I was eager to get home and contact him, Aha, I’m sure that’s a comma splice. I stayed at the bar until closing. It seemed some of the guys were intimidated by me. I’m confused: who was possibly intimidated by him? Not a master? A number of them tried to take me home or another place for a hook-up but none of them were the master I was looking for. I didn’t see any of them the night of the salve Typo. auction, so that meant they were probably just pretenders. But it was SO crowded the night of the slave auction and Todd was so new to it, scared, nervous, no way he could see AND remember everyone who was there. They thought I was an easy lay, a cheap piece of meat.

But I was above that now. Maybe at my previous bar, I would’ve been desperate by now, but tonight I didn’t care.

The next day, as soon as I got home from my dead-end job, I booted up my old, slow computer. I found Master Mike’s website and lost track of time. He posted picture of his slaves, their stories and blogged about their training progress, successes and failures. Maybe add that he yelled at the ‘puter as he waited for a site to load. Also, I’d have gone to the website as soon as I got home the night I learned about it. Why did he wait for the next day?

When they failed or disobeyed, Master Mike described their punishment. I noticed sometimes he sold them off as he had done at the slave auction. I recognized the four men who stood behind him at the bar that night. I read how they were disobedient or could not reach the next level of their training. In one case, the slave requested to be sold. From the blog, it seemed Master Mike wasn’t happy with him either.

I found several bios where a slave had disappointed Master and their blog post ended with the word ‘terminated’. I searched the site thoroughly but couldn’t find out what happened to them. Were they sold off? Did they just quit and walk away? What did he mean by ‘terminated’?

During my search, I discovered the link where I could contact Master Mike. My body shivered with excitement and anticipation as I wrote a brief profile of my self and my reasons for wanting to become a slave of his.

Taking a deep breath, I hit ‘send’.

**


Every day after work, I couldn’t wait to get home and check my email and everyday I was disappointed. Nothing from Master Mike.

As the days passed with no response, I became more and more morose. My performance at work suffered but I didn’t care. As soon as I found something better, I planned to move on.

Why am I kidding myself? I asked. I want to be a full-time slave. That’s what I’m waiting for Need a period.

I had just about given up hope when I got home from work one miserable Friday. I found an email from Master Mike. I opened it and my heart sank lower than ever.

He remembered seeing me at the slave auction a few weeks ago, and thought that I wasn’t serious or knew enough about submission to give me any consideration. He doubted I had any substantial training. He knew Daddy Rob but didn’t feel that he had given me a considerable level of training such that he would consider that I had changed or improved.

I sat back in my chair, speechless and stunned.

NO!

How could he turn me down? I kept re-reading the words, not believing what I saw. My face grew hot and my eyes became teary. The weeks of waiting, wanting and longing came crashing down on me. I dissolved into sobbing, my body shuddering with each wave of tears.

I hadn’t eaten since lunch but I was no longer hungry. It was before six o’ clock in the evening and I was already tired and sleepy. The rejection drained me of any will or motivation to do anything for the rest of the day. I went to bed, bothering only to kick off my shoes. I lay still for a long time, with no thoughts going through my mind before falling asleep.

That entire weekend, I hardly moved from the bed, getting up only to use the bathroom and to eat and drink just enough to satisfy huger and thirst. I tried watching TV or reading but I couldn’t focus on anything.

Nothing would distract me.

Monday morning came and I didn’t feel any better. I fought the urge to call in sick to work and decided it would be the best thing for me. Even though I hated my job, it gave my days an element of structure, a regimen to follow and keep my mind on other things. I muddled through the next week, eight to five, not talking to anyone unless I had to. I stayed home at night, and avoided the bar. I had no intention of associating with anyone even remotely connected with the leather or BDSM communities. I stayed off the Internet because I didn’t want to see others having more fun that I was. Friday night came around and I went to bed early as became my routine now.

I was enjoying my self-pity.

That’s exactly what it was. I felt sorry for myself and I liked it.

The realization hit hard and I became ashamed. I could be as good as any of his other slaves. Better even. I had training from Daddy Rob and I studied more than anyone else I knew. And I had come to be acquainted with a lot of people at the bar. I wasn’t some novice or wannabe, still wet behind the ears. I knew what I wanted.

I jumped out of bed. I booted up my computer and opened the email from Master Mike. I took the better part of an hour writing and rewriting a response to his rejection. I told him my experiences with Daddy Rob, my ideals as a slave and the important things I had learned since the slave auction. I kept the tone courteous and respectful as he deserved but remained firm in my position that I would make him an excellent slave. I added an invitation to meet me at the bar so he could see for himself how much I had changed and improved in the past few weeks. Once satisfied with the wording, I sent the message into cyberspace.

I expected to wait several days again before hearing from him, so I got reacquainted with those web-sites and on-line groups devoted to sexual slavery and BDSM, the ones I had avoided for the past week. I was chatting with a friend when a message window popped up, telling me I had new email.

I was shocked when I saw it was from Master Mike. He had read my email and was impressed at my eagerness and tenacity. He suggested we meet at the bar the next evening, which was Saturday.

I was thrilled.