I knew within the first hour, and that without ever having even clearly seen his face, that I had at last found the Master I had been looking for. The road to the door of this man's house had been long and fraught with frustration, but as I crawled across the threshold of his home, naked and with my wrists and ankles cuffed, I was virtually certain I would find here the training and the introduction to real slavery that I had sought for years.

There had been several would-be masters, but I had not yet found one who really wanted the full Master/ slave paradigm, one who would take pleasure not just from whatever physical services I could provide him, but who also enjoyed the mere fact that he had another man, and a masculine one at that, at his complete disposal. And, most important of all to me, a Master who would understand and exploit the delicate dynamic that had brought me here.
 
I was like the proverbial moth to the flame, attracted and repelled at the same time, and somehow, for some undefinable reason, compelled to seek out the humiliation that overwhelmed me when "forced" to serve another man, naked and bound, as his slave.

One or two others had come close, but never before had I established so open a communication as I had with Jack, hereinafter referred to as my Master. He was gay, and therefore had made it clear that he was attracted to the naked male body. Having seen several nude shots I had sent, he apparently found mine acceptable. Like me, he had a kink for bondage.

In our initial correspondence we had established that we shared many reciprocal interests, a preference for high protocol play, strict rules of speech and address, and a full immersion into our respective roles when together. As a gay man my Master took a particular pleasure in discomfiting ostensibly straight males. He had, he said, many such males come to him as subs, but few that sought slavery and he looked forward to showing me the difference.

I had approached my Master after seeing his profile on a BDSM hook-up site. Our online conversation and negotiations had lasted a couple of weeks before we had a set a date to meet, and I had found my Master to be the most articulate dom I had ever communicated with, a very good sign, as I too valued communication as a prelude to a successful relationship. In those communications he had made it clear to me that a sub was mostly used for sex, whereas his slave would be expected to provide a full range of services, both sexual and domestic. I should expect to alternate serving him on my knees, sucking cock perhaps, and then on my knees scrubbing his floors or polishing his boots. He would expect that I would perform both tasks with equal zeal and attention to detail.

I was working in retail management at the time, a district manager with supervisory responsibilty for fourteen stores in as many malls, scattered around Central Texas. I lived in Dallas, my Master in San Antonio. I had sought someone there as I started a week long circuit of store visits from San Antonio every third Monday. I would merely have to drive down a little earlier than I would otherwise have done on Sunday, check into my hotel and meet him at a nearby shopping center in the early afternoon.

In every previous encounter with a prospective dom, we had arranged to meet for coffee and conversation, a mutual checking out, before proceeding. My Master, however had other plans, plans which played into my hopes and fears, in what would be only the first of many instances in which it seemed he was able to read my mind.

He told me that he had always enjoyed pickup or kidnap type scenes, in which he would drive his sub to his home bound and blindfolded. I had never mentioned this as even a possibility, but it was a fantasy of mine too, to be introduced to a dom in just this way. I had never dared to mention it both because it always seemed a little fanciful and because I was afraid I might not dare to do it if actually offered the chance.

But I had not now merely been offered the chance, I had been told this is how it would go down; that despite any misgivings, and the voice of my better judgment, I would have to take this leap of faith if we were to begin. It would, of course, also be my first significant act of submission. This had been laid out in one of our emails, and after a feeble try at dissuading him I had acquiesced.

So it was that a week later I had found myself walking across a sunbaked parking lot on a hot Sunday afternoon. I had advised my Master of the venue where I thought we could meet, a large shopping mall adjacent to my hotel. It was about twenty minutes drive time from his home as it turned out, and he had found it suitable for his plans. I had received a detailed set of instructions of how I was to prepare myself. Yesterday I shaved all of my pubic area except for the delta above my cock which I would be allowed to keep, but only if very closely trimmed.

He had explained that not only did he like the look of shaved genitals, but that it allowed for tethering and leashing the cock and balls without entangling hair. I wondered if he knew as well how humiliating it was for me to perform that act. I knew many men shaved their balls, but they did so for their own purposes or to please their girlfriends. I was acutely aware of the fact that I had shaved myself, giving up what seemed at that moment to be a part of my manliness, on the orders of a man I had never even met.

I was wearing shorts, a polo shirt, tennis shoes and socks. Going round a corner of one of the big box stores, I came to a receiving and employee parking area with only a couple of cars and no people in sight. As expected, I saw his vehicle, a burgundy PT Cruiser with deeply tinted windows. I approached the van with my heart hammering in my chest and misgivings running rampant in my mind. What-if after what-if tried to make itself heard, but I had resolved to do this. The vehicle was unoccupied, but I heard a click as the door unlocked. My Master was obviously watching me though I had not seen him. I opened the door and climbed into the back seat.

The car had probably only been there a few minutes but it was already warm inside, and getting hotter by the minute. I looked around and found that everything was in place as he had said it would be. Drawing a deep breath and hoping I was not an utter fool I took off my shirt, shoes, and socks, and placed them in a cloth bag that lay on the back seat. I then put the bag on the front seat. Two sets of manacles lay on the floor, each attached by a short chain and a padlock to the front seat supports nearest the doors. The manacles and leg irons were of a kind I had seen but not experienced before, sort of like a modern version of old school Victorian cuffs, but with a molded rubber cover. Not uncomfortable, but very real, and very secure.

I was to kneel on the floor between the front and back seats and cuff my ankles. Then I was to undo my belt and unzip my shorts, but not to remove them.

Next I was to blindfold myself and only after that had been done I was to cuff my wrists. Proceeding in exactly that order I completed the process he had outlined, a process that left me on my hands and knees, wedged rather snuggly between the front and rear seats, and very much at the disposal of whoever would now come to claim me. The decision had been made and it was now time to await the consequences.

He allowed me several minutes to lanquish like that, no doubt wanting my apprehensions to grow as I waited. Sweat beaded on my back and forehead, and began to get in my eyes, beneath the blindfold. Apprehension makes maintaining an erection difficult, and though I was undeniably excited by the vulnerability of my situation and the prospect of all that I hoped was to come, I found my cock stiffening and receding as waves of desire and doubt alternately swept over me.

Finally I heard the door in front of me open and felt the very welcome influx of cooler air. For a second I found myself wondering if anyone else could see this, what my Master (at least I hoped that was who had opened the door) was now seeing, this self-bondaged, near naked, obedient, would-be slave, in a position of helpless submission.

The blindfold he had provided was an ordinary black mask type thing with an elastic band, the sort that could slip down easily enough. Apparently aware of this, he took what I assumed was an elastic sweatband and slipped it down over my forehead and in place over the blindfold, holding it more reliably in place and eliminating any small chance I might have had to see or orient myself during the trip to his home.

He gave my wristcuffs a quick tug to be sure they were properly secured, the door closed, and a moment later the opposite door, the one behind me, opened. Again that quick thrill of fear of being seen like this by some random pedestrian, even though I knew he must have wanted that even less than I did. Evidently that was not going to worry him at all though. As far as I could tell the door stood wide open as he leaned in and grabbed the waistband of my shorts, a hand on either side. I could feel his fingers going beneath the elastic of my undershorts as well. Then, with one swift, sure motion, he brought both pairs of shorts down around my knees. Another sharp tug informed me that I was to raise my knees a bit, and my shorts were pulled down to my chained ankles. Again, a quick check of the ankle cuffs, and the door closed. Not a word had been spoken by either of us. His earlier instructions had specified that I was not to speak until spoken to, and he evidently wanted to keep me in suspense as long as possible.

He remained silent for the entire trip, leaving me to wonder what he thought of me in that quick first look. He had not taken the time for more than a glance, and while I had much to think about and process during that ride, I couldn't help but wonder how he must have felt, bringing home a fresh caught slave, and whether he had been pleased with what he had seen.

I had seen several pictures of my Master in the course of our correspondence, but a dom's appearance, beyond a certain minimum, was not of great importance to me. What I sought was the attitude of command, competence, and comfort in the dominant role. At the same time I was well aware that my appearance might be of much more import to him and I didn't want to disappoint.

Although I knew the area we had started from well, it took only a few moments for me to lose my bearings entirely. We drove at speed for a while on the expressway, then more slowly with quite a few stops for lights and stop signs. The windows of the van were quite dark, and positioned as I was there was very little chance that anyone other than a truck driver could have seen any part of me, but I couldn't help but think of what would happen if my Master were to run a light or something, perhaps distracted himself by my presence just inches behind his seat. Surely this was an at least somewhat unusual trip for him as well. Explaining all this to a officer of the law would take some doing.

That concern at least need not have bothered me. After one last stop light, a quick turn, and a slow traverse of a couple of speed bumps, the van came to a halt. My Master got out immediately, but I remained as I was, chained, waiting. I had cooled off during the drive with the help of the AC, but the van began to get warm again quickly, and my heartbeat was ramping up as my imagination began working overtime again. What I was feeling now was no longer fear, just an entirely reasonable apprehension of what was to come next and how I would handle it. I had gone to a lot of trouble to make this moment happen, and so had my Master, and I very much wanted to make good on my promises.

Finally the door to my rear opened and he unlocked my ankle cuffs just long enough to free my shorts. He rechained my ankles, but I was free of the seat post. It was clear I would be out of the van soon. Opening the opposite door he unlocked the wrist cuffs from the seat post chain, and still without a single word having been spoken, he pulled on my cuffs in such a way that it was clear that I was to follow. The leg irons had only about eight inches of chain, and between that, the blindfold, the stiffness that had set in during the drive here, and my cuffed wrists, I was more than a little clumsy as I tried to sit up on the seat and swing my legs over the door sill.

My bare feet touched concrete and immediately my Master began to pull me forward. I had no idea at all of what sort of place we were in but I could hear enough ambient noise to know it was not an entirely enclosed garage, and thus that there must be some danger of exposure. My cock had been stiff but not full-on hard for the last few minutes, but now came fully erect. The unusual feel of outside air on my naked body, the warm concrete under my bare feet, the possibilty that I was even now being seen by God-knows-who, it all came together in an amazingly sensual moment. I shuffled forward as fast as my chains allowed, following his lead. Fifteen, maybe twenty feet and he stopped, and for the very first time I heard my Master speak.

A single word,"Kneel", and I knelt, waiting. I heard what sounded like a wooden gate closing; I was now evidently within an enclosed area. On the other side of the fence I could hear him closing and locking the doors of the van, then the gate opened and closed again. I could hear small sounds as he moved around me, having his first good look at his new acquisition. I was breathing deeply, rapidly, and tremors of excitement and anticipation were wracking my shoulders and ass in a way he could not have failed to notice. He placed his hands on my shoulders and with a gentle pressure indicated I was to turn a few degrees to my left. He spoke once more, "On your hands and knees, slave, crawl straight ahead, into my home."