I gave Robin a simple choice. Either I would ring the police to come and pick him up to put him back in jail, from which he had cunningly escaped, or he would do as told and become my slave and servant. The handsome Dutch blonde I had captured in my garden thought about it for a minute and tried to argue with me. I grabbed the phone, which quickly stopped his arguing. Robin is not only very attractive, but also very bright and with an enormous sense of humour. That Sunday afternoon, he was going to play one of his fantasies with me. I loved it. I will tell you the true story, which happened a couple of years ago, as I remember it. I may have changed the facts a bit because I have forgotten some of the details, but the essence of the event is as written down below.
Robin, 'the escaped thief' actually worked at the hospital close to my residence. He had a vivid imagination and, today, wished to be treated as an escaped prisoner. He had cunningly run away, having got hold of the guard's keys wile sucking the prison director's _c_o_c_k_. Neither of them was in a position to chase him, as they had their pants on their ankles. Once escaped, he tricked a boy into the bushes and offered his prison clothes in exchange for those of the boy. Not that the boy had much choice, having been tied up after having received a blowjob from Robin.
I caught Robin in the garden of the place I was staying for a few weeks, and let him in. I threatened to call the police, but he hated going back to prison, where he regularly had to suck the guards and the director whenever they wanted it. The alternative, thorough belting, was even worse. He also hated the compulsory wankings in the showers, together with the other prisoners, supervised by the guards, who would comment on their activites. He found it so humiliating. Besides, he was innocent and did not belong in jail.
I offered him an alternative: to become my slave and servant and accept what I have in stall for him. He thought about it. He started to argue. It was unfair, as he was innocent. Picking up the phone hastened the decision-making. The physical inspection could begin. I decided I had to blindfold this boy, as it would be hard not to smile or even laugh with all the stories he kept telling about his life in prison. I first did a body search. You never know with these escaped prisoners. There was something hard hidden in his torn jeans, which I decided to check out. It turned out to be a nicely shaped uncut _c_o_c_k_. Not a very dangerous weapon. More a toy, I decided. Stripping and bending over for a thorough inspecting came quite natural for this boy.
I thoroughly inspected his smooth body, while he kept telling me more stories bout his prison life. Occasionally I had to stop him, slapping him on his firm arse, using my hand or his belt. Robin is not to keen on a spanking, but knew he would have to accept some. What he was keen on, though, was sucking and playing with my nipples. Collared and cuffed, I let him do exactly that. While I played with him and let him suck me, he wanted to know what was in stall for him as my slaveboy. Would he be rented out? Would he join me on my travels, and be the popular blonde slaveboy serving Moroccan gentlemen? Would he get money for it, or would I keep it all? Would he have to appear at a slave show, together with several other boys of various colour? Would he have to do strip shows?
After he had made me come, I decided to reward him. I tied him spread-eagled to the bed, and excited him until he almost came. This definitely stopped his babbling and made him moan instead. I would stop just before his climax, until, at long last, I let him squirt his hot white semen on his smooth chest. I let him relax a bit, before I took him upstairs, where I connected the cuffs on his back and tied his collar to the wall. I locked him up in an improvised cage. Being blindfolded, it was easy for him to imagine t was a cage, which he loved, but it was hardly more than part of the landing of the staircase. I left him there for a while, before I took him down to the bedroom again and made him serve me for a second time that Sunday afternoon.
Robin was great. I wished I had kept his phone number or email address. I must have had at least one of those. If you happen to know Robin, who lives in The Hague, I believe, please send him this story, or ask him to get in touch with me at hotdate@hotmail. com. And if you are keen to get in touch with me yourself, don't hesitate to write.