The Knox Method: Chapter 1

Master Knox says he normally talks with his subs ahead of his in-person meetings to discuss what will happen and match expectations. We haven't had that conversation yet, as there's still plenty of time. I plan to visit New York at the end of January or beginning of February. So I shouldn't bother him with that so early.

But let's imagine we did have that conversation, and for the fun of it, let's say I was a little more relaxed with my limits and budgetary concerns. This is also a good way to make it worse for me, since I'm exposing all my fantasies and where I might be willing to go with him. Might, because I really do have limits and I can't spend too much. But I am an exhibitionist and I love exposing my hole, including my cashhole.

So here goes.

The first thing I'd want  to clarify with Master Knox, is whether it would be OK to give him small bills, so I can let the experience of giving him money last longer, rather than just giving him one stack of bills and squandering that whole endorphin kick, that whole act of degradation, in one go.

"I don't like small bills," he'd say. "I know the ATM might give you $20 bills, but I expect  you to go into the bank and ask them to change your bills into fifties, at the very least. I like having a lot of bills in my hand, but they should be substantial in value. I'm worth more than that. Besides, faggot, I want to be practical. In the end, I need to deposit all my money that you give me back into the ATM, and I want to do it efficiently."

"Oh, OK Sir," I'd say, meekly.

Sensing the tone of disappointment in my voice, he'd say, "don't worry, faggot. I'll be able to drag it out for you. You know I love counting, and I'll count my money as I count seconds, just like I do with poppers. Besides, you'll be able to relive it over and over again, since I'll be recording you giving my money on camera and posting it forever on Twitter."

"Oh, Sir. Thank you," I'd reply.

He'd laugh in his usual roaring laughter. "You'd like that, won't you sissy?" he'd ask.

"Uh, yes Sir…I mean no," I'd mumble, somewhat confused.

He'd laugh again. "Well, which is it, sissy?" he'd ask.

"Oh, Sir, it doesn't matter," I'd reply. "Whatever would please you. I'm just a desperate faggot in your service and others should see my submission to you and do the same. You're worthy of so much more service."

"That's right, faggot. That's fucking right. But don't play coy with me, faggot. I know you're an exhibitionist and you need this. You need me to expose you on camera, don't you, faggot?"

"Well, um, I can't show my face, Sir. I need to be discreet," I'd say. "But yes, you're right, I am an exhibitionist and it turns me on when others see me as a sub."

"That's right, faggot," he'd reaffirm. "I read in your blog  about always having to show your chastity cage when you went to a sauna or wherever you faggots go when you’re cruising. You whine that your Owner now makes you do it every time you go to those places, but the truth is that you started doing it well before he made it a requirement, didn't you?"

"Yes Sir," I'd reply.

"You've seen my videos of other fags. You know I like to show them naked, and in your case, it will have to be in chastity, according to your Owner's rules, isn't that right, faggot?"

"Yes Sir," I'd acknowledge.

"Or maybe I should put you in panties, since you've been dying to be turned into a sissy?"

"What, Sir? Dying?" I'd ask, a bit incredulous.

"Don't feign innocence, sissy," he'd say. "What is it you've written by now, maybe 300 pages of your sissification fantasies in your books?"

"Oh, yes, Sir," I'd acknowledge, defeated. "But the truth is I haven't really been sissified yet."

"So were you only a little sissified until now?" he'd ask, smirking.

"Well, there was this hot athletic Mexican guy who put me in a skirt for him and called me 'a pretty girl'. And then there was another very muscular 10" Black Latino guy who required me to wear panties, which he tore wide open when he fucked me," I reported.

"Fuck, sissy, and here I thought you were all talk," he'd say, perhaps to make fun of me and put me down even more. "Then you should definitely wear panties for the video. I know I call all of you sissies, but I don't remember having any of you pathetic enough to wear panties in front of everyone. And you know the more I degrade you, the more the other fags will get horned up and send."

"Oh, uh, OK Sir. I mean, whatever you think would serve you better, Sir," I'd reply.

"That's right, sissy," he'd say. "That's fucking right. Whatever serves me better. That's all that should matter."

"Yes, Sir," I'd reply. "But I don't have any panties, and I'm embarrassed to go buy them."

"What a pussy! Just order them online," he'd say.

"Uh, OK, Sir," I'd reply.

"You know what, nevermind," he'd say. "I want the video to look just right with the perfect sissy panties, and I don't want to count on your shopping since your experience is so limited. I'm just going to pick up panties from my girl and you can wear them. That will be an extra $100."

"What? Sir!" I'd try to protest. "I don't want to wear something that was on a girl's pussy. I'm really not into women, Sir. Besides, that's not what panties cost."

"You'll be paying for my effort. And don't worry, I'll let you keep the panties, so you can wear them for your hookups. And I don't care what you feel about women. You'd be licking a woman's pussy if my dick were inside it, wouldn't you?" he'd say with confidence.

"Um," I'd have to pause to think. "Well, I'm really turned off by women, not to mention their genitalia, but…"

"But?" he'd retort, teasing me.

"But I guess if your dick was inside, I would need to lick it, because I'd want to be near your 9" cock, and hope to lick it too," I'd admit.

"Even though that would be really humiliating for a fag like you, wouldn't it?" he'd push further.

"Yes Sir," I'd reply. "Or maybe it's the humiliation that would be the reason I’d lick it."

"Fuck yeah, sissy! You need to be degraded. You need to be lower," he'd say, triumphantly. "So bring $1,100 to our meeting. Glad that's not an issue for you."

"Oh, Sir, it really is, but I'll do as you say. I'll do this for you."

"That's right, faggot," he'd say. "You've finally found your purpose. A purpose to empty yourself. A purpose to fulfill all of my wishes. You're just fulfilling your purpose, your programming. Remember this?"

His voice got deep into my mind. This call — this whole scenario — stopped feeling hypothetical. It felt real. I was fully immersed in his control. "I think I understand my purpose, Sir," I told Master Knox.

"Do you really understand your purpose, faggot?" he asked.

"Uh, yes Sir," I said, doubting myself, not sure why he was asking, when I was now planning to pay him $1,100 when meeting him. I looked around my room, at the table, and the couch I was sitting on. I got down from the couch and on my knees, wondering if that would please him.

He laughed, like the 20-year-old bully that he was, but I could never hold it against him. I only wanted to get lower for him. "You stupid faggot," he said. "We've been talking for so long and you haven't sent me even one tribute," he scolded me.

"But Sir," I protested. "We've been discussing our plan so I can meet and give you $1,100. That’s even more than the $1,000 we agreed to in the beginning."

"I'm talking about now," he said. "Sure, you're going to hand me a lot of money when we meet, but what about now? I've graced you with my time, my face, and my voice, and how do you show your appreciation?"

"I'm sorry, Sir," I said. "You know I don't have a lot to send. I'm really grateful to see you and I can't wait to hand you all your money, but didn't we agree that the $1,100 would be enough?"

Master Knox laughed again. "Sure, we agreed," he said, stressing the 'd' at the end. "Or I should say you agreed," he snickered. I just said it would be 4 digits and you decided it would be $1,000. And now you agreed you would hand over $1,100. And you'll want to hand me more and more and more. You're never going to stop. It doesn't even matter what we agree to right now, because you know you'll want to give me more. So you may as well send a tribute now. Don't worry, it won't come out of the money you give me in person. I'm going to let you hand me so many bills. Do you need me to help you push that send button, faggot?"

"Sent $50, Sir. Thank you, Sir," I said.

Master Knox laughed. "Good boi," he said. "You should always say thank you when you send to me. Because it's a privilege. Isn't it, faggot?"

"Yes Sir," I agreed.

"Damn right, faggot. Now where were we?" he asked.

I hesitated before answering, not sure if it was rhetorical, and also feeling so mindfucked by now. "Uh, you were saying I'd want to hand you more than just $1,100, Sir."

"Yeah faggot. You will want to hand me more than just $1,100. It already seems too little, doesn't it? Isn't that why you said 'just'? Because it seems like too little to you too. You want to hand me more."

"No Sir, I mustn't. I can't afford it!" I cried.

"Sure you can. Let's say we agree that the new number would be $1,200, that would be OK, wouldn't it? You wouldn't want to disagree with me over $100, would you, faggot?"

"Uh, no, Sir," I replied.

"No, you wouldn't," Master Knox confirmed. His voice was so confident. So reassuring. "You're so docile, aren't you faggot? You're so eager to please and you love the feeling of getting fucked, don't you? You wish I were fucking your pussy right now. In fact, why don't you get on all fours right now. I'm glad you're already on your knees on the floor, but get on all fours, and imagine I'm feeding you cock and then fucking your hole."

I changed my position to get on all fours in front of the screen, which immediately elicited a laugh from him.

"Fuck yeah, sissy," he said with enthusiasm. "You're so eager to get fucked by me, aren't you?"

"Yes Sir," I agreed.

"You're excited that I made you submit to another price hike, aren't you, sissy?" he taunted.

"Uh," I hesitated.

"Aren't you?" he insisted.

"Yes Sir," I replied, defeated.

"Yeah, you are, sissy. So I'm going to do you a favor and make it $1,300."

"No Sir, please!" I exclaimed.

"No? Is that not enough, sissy?" he asked.

"Sir!" I was almost yelling.

"Do you need to feel my cashcock harder? Thicker?" he asked. "Is your need to submit so hard that you want me to gape you for $1,400?"

"What? No Sir! I can't," I pleaded.

"Yes you can, sissy," he said, urging me in his soothing voice. "Stop speaking. Open your mouth and leave it open, imagining my thick cock entering it and pissing down your throat. You can feel your mouth watering and you won't be happy with less than maximum degradation. You want to really feel used. You need to leak $1,500. You need me to drain you so hard and for everyone to see what a pathetic little sissy faggot you are."

"Uh, um, yes Sir," I conceded.

"Good girl," he said and hung up.

To be continued...