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ASIAN SLAVE SUBMITS 9
Have you guys heard of the Kegel exercise?
Adapted for men that suffers from urinary or faecal incontinence, it had been proven to improve bladder control and could potentially treat erectile dysfunction. The exercise strengthens pelvic floor muscles and tightens anal sphincters, internal and external. A cycle of 10 contractions done 2-3 times a day with minimal effort. Google it and try it for yourself.
The combination of Master Greg's voracious fucking appetite and the occasional double penetration by Masters had taken its toll on my poor but very satisfied slavecunt. They preferred to fuck a tight hole and it was my duty to provide that for them.
The Kegel exercise came in handy. I can't speak for every bottom sluts out there, but it worked for me. The trick is to keep it up. I'd do it while commuting, queueing or sitting at my desk. In time, subtle results began to show. My boycunt didn't revert to virgin tightness, but I had more accomplished control over my anal sphincter.
The satisfied look on Masters' faces when my sluthole clamps down firmly on their fuckrods was reward in itself.
But there were occasions when I experienced fleeting jabbing pain in my bowels from being fucked, and Masters were aware of the pain I felt. It was their contrived way to abuse their fuckslave: by punish-fucking me.
There was nothing I could do to redress this, hampered by the physical limitations of my lean lithe frame. The heady mix of overwhelming pleasure and momentary pain was a favourable compromise, but my ultimate goal was to condition myself to thoroughly enjoy the experience. In a way, it was also a self-preservation thing.
My determination couldn't be mustered any sooner as my mettle was promptly put to the test. Talk about hitting the ground running.
Masters and me were heading off for a weekend away to a nearby bilingual city. I was excited as the trip inaugurated my discovery of other European cities, something that I wasn't sure I was allowed to do. I cancelled all plans for the weekend and read up about the city and the country.
Master Rewan was to rendezvous with us there, so it was just me and Master Greg on the train down. It was a scorcher of a summer so packing was easy: a few vest tops, shirts and shorts. I cleared out my desk by end of day on that Friday and left for the central station in the evening rush hour.
I got there in plenty of time, but Master Greg was already on the platform with a roguish smirk on his face, cigarette in hand. You see, Master Greg rarely showed any emotions, if at all, so I knew from the get go that something's up. Looking forward to this city break, I had a spring in my step all day but upon seeing Master, subtle sparks of dread started to dance in me.
We hopped onto our carriage, but instead of finding our seats, Master marched me into the toilet. A faint intermingling whiff of bleach and urine greeted us as we bundled into cramped toilet, me first followed by Master. There was just about adequate room for both of us that Master struggled to close the door, but deliberately left it unlocked.
"Strip," ordered Master.
That dread in my stomach was now doing somersaults. Master couldn't possibly want me starkers on this journey, could he? I hesitated and stood still, now frozen with anticipatory fear. Sensing my apprehension, Master grabbed me by the throat and pushed me against the wall, then stared straight into my eyes.
Master uttered no words, and he didn't need to. The combination of Master's commanding gaze and his intoxicating musk were sufficient to overcome my fear. I undid the buttons of my shirt and trousers, kicked my shoes off and shed all my clothes as Master kept his grip on my throat. Easier said than done, but I managed it eventually.
Satisfied, Master relaxed his grip and rummaged through his bag as I watched the door like a hawk. The door wouldn't open bar a few inches anyway with the 2 of us in there, but it was the prospect of being discovered that unnerved me.
I was expecting a few bondage gear, perhaps even the bullet vibrator. But to my surprise, Master took out some clothes from his bag then handed them to me. I almost dismissed it as a joke but suppressed any token laughter when I looked closely at them.
In my hand was a sleeveless gym tank top with ultra-low deep cut arm, racer back, and low scoop neckline. The other garment was a super short cut-off denim with frayed hem. Hah!
In any other circumstance this would've been a prank. But Master Greg didn't do pranks and after my minor disobedience earlier, I wasn't going to test Master's patience.
It had been a while since Master humiliated me in public and today's outfit made up for it. The sleeveless top's front had a narrow width, revealing the sides of my upper body; while the low neckline exposed most of my chest and barely covered my nipples. The top shifted at the slightest movement to reveal either of my slavetits.
The shorts was another story altogether. It was low-waisted, tight fitted and so short that I'd seen bigger underwear. The hem ended just an inch below my crotch that it didn't even reach mid-thigh. My flaccid cock and balls impressed an obvious bulge on my crotch, leaving very little to the imagination.
I looked so ridiculous that I sniggered sarcastically. My lean Asian physique looked anaemic in what was clearly a gym top for muscle marys. Even rentboys don't dress this way. The only consolation was the snug feeling of the shorts hugging my arse and accentuating the shape of my tight bubble arse.
I wasn't in conservative Malaysia anymore, so Master Greg had clearly upped the ante. It was all part of his plan to present me as a slutty fucktoy. Don't get me wrong, my slim Asian body look titillating in skimpy clothes, but not in ludicrous one.
If this was in any way Master Greg's idea of a slutty outfit, I might as well fit into the role, wanting to make up for my prior insubordination. There was no way Master came into the toilet without wanting something more when he could have just sent me to change. I turned around and pressed my arse against Master's crotch.
Bracing myself against the wall, I rubbed and coaxed Master's flaccid cock into full mast with my arse. Releasing his pocket rocket out of its fabric cage, Master lined it up to enter my boycunt after I pulled down my shorts. It was fortuitous that I had applied lube generously before I left work. In one fell swoop, Master buried all of his cock in my arse.
We both groaned in unison: Master at the moist tightness enveloping his fuckrod, me at the painful invasion of my poor boycunt.
Seizing the pain at its crux, I gyrated my arse and transmuted the ache into a steady energy of passively fucking myself on Master's fuckpole. There was little room to manoeuvre in here, so almost all of Master's cock remained inside me. I wished I had some poppers to help me weather the initial pain.
Master spanked my arse a few times to spur me on. I was pretty sure that anyone outside the toilet could hear us, but nobody interrupted. Either way, the thought that someone could potentially hear us brought out the exhibitionist streak in me again. I missed its conflicting gratification. Not since Kuala Lumpur had Master used me in public. Well, semi-public.
Growing impatient, Master wrested my momentum and launched into his usual jackhammer pounding while grabbing a fistful of my hair as leverage. Surrendering control to Master, I focused on the pleasure flooding from my used cunt and rode on its wave as it spread through my body. My cock grew rock hard as I aligned my arse so that Master's hungry monster serpent brushed against my prostate at each fucking cycle.
Master was packing a 2 day load at that point, so it didn't take long before his breath became shallow and his fucking speed increased. I tightened my anal sphincter to clamp down on Master's fuckspear and Master responded by pressing the side of my face against the opposite wall.
Master was close and I could smell it. But suddenly Master stopped fucking and withdrew his cock completely, taking me by surprise. Rough-handling me, Master hurriedly twist me around and sat me down on the toilet seat. At that precise moment, Master's floodgates opened and sprayed me with his babybatter, drenching my face. Spurt after spurt of ropey cum found its target. I closed my eyes in time but was too slow to open my mouth to catch Master's studjizz as it started to dribble down to my chest and top.
As Master's climax abated and the last of his cum landed on my face, Master grabbed another fistful of my hair with one hand and used the other to wipe his cock on my face, aiming for any dry spot.
"Clean it," ordered Master.
"Yes Sir, thank you Sir," I replied gratefully.
I lapped up Master's hard cock with the fervour of a hungry dog. My boycunt missed out on being bred, so I was determined not to let throat go dry. I swallowed all of Master's still hard cock, using my tongue to squeeze out the remainder of Master's cum.
Pleased with my service, Master pried my mouth away from his cock and wiped it with tissue. I started to scoop Master's cum from my face to lick it, but was stopped by Master.
"Don't even think about it. Leave my cum on your face and chest. Now get out, I need to pee," commanded Master.
Unceremoniously tossed out of the toilet, I quickly pulled my shorts up, struggling to stuff my hard cock into it. I was lucky that nobody was outside the toilet, as I quietly made my way to our seats, keeping my head down and avoiding any eye contact.
The train pulled out of the station just as I sat down. The carriage was surprisingly sparse, to my relief, as I looked a state. A cheap cum-faced nympho slut that just whored himself out to fund his cocaine joyrides. Desperate to lend anonymity to this humiliation, I put on my sunglasses in a futile attempt to hide my face.
Master joined me after a while, that roguish grin visible again on his face as he took the seat opposite mine. Master took out a book and placed it on the table between our seats. Stretching one leg under this table, Master placed his foot directly on my crotch and applied firm pressure on my still hard cock, further asserting his superiority as Master and owner.
The act itself was subtle and covert, and you wouldn't notice it unless you were seated next to us or standing over us. Yet it turned me on completely. Denied the chance to cum earlier, I was hornier now as Master teased my cock with his foot, bringing me almost to the edge but not quite over to make me cum. I was his fucktoy after all, and Master was toying not only with my lust, but also my psyche.
I couldn't quite relax, my attention shifting between Master's constant stimulation and my embarrassing appearance. Master's cum began to crust on my face and exposed chest, while the blobs on my skimpy top began to discolour. Most passengers ignored me, but from behind my sunglasses I noticed some stole furtive disapproving glances at me. Even the ticket conductor shot me a disgusted look.
I spent most of the journey subjected to Master's crafty predicament. A friend of Master Greg boarded the train at one of the stops along the way and joined us at our seats. Reda was of African heritage with an athletic build but slightly shorter than Master Greg. He was wearing a business suit despite the overbearing summer heat and looked quite the part in it.
The tense atmosphere suddenly changed, the silence of earlier journey broke when Master Greg greeted Reda warmly, introduced me, then launched into a jovial conversation. Reda was joining us for the city break, so the encounter wasn't a coincidence. In a way I was relieved to be freed from Master Greg's torment, but I was also left gagging for more cock.
At one point the conversation turned towards me: about the circumstances of my acquaintance to Masters, about my servitude so far and also about my background. Reda was unfazed by the information and my appearance, which suggested that either he was aware of Masters' kinks or even partial to it.
On arrival, Master Greg and Reda led the way to their friends' apartment in the city centre. Driven by unsatiated lust, I was beyond caring of what others thought of my appearance. I was in liberal Europe and shouldn't fixate on my conservative Asian values. My clothes were revealing, yet I wasn't completely revealed. I spotted a few guys with their tops off and women too wearing somewhat similar attire to me. "When in Rome..." was the way I assuaged my anxiety.
At the apartment, Master Rewan greeted me with a warm hug and an approving look, which made me proud. I asked to freshen up and was allowed to by Master Greg, so I jumped into the shower. I came out in my towel, unsure if I should be completely naked or wait for instruction of Masters' preferred outfit, but not before I re-applied lube generously in and at the entrance to my fuckhole.
Master Rewan led me into the kitchen where everyone was and introduced me to our hosts, Jan and Etienne, a couple that looked so alike that I mistook them for twins. They were the perfect epitome of "boyfriend twins", defined by the Urban Dictionary as "Male couples who resemble each other so much they could be brothers." Over the coming weekend I even caught them grooming each other! Who needs a mirror when you look like your boyfriend, eyy?
Jan and Etienne were Caucasian, with mousy brown hair, of comparable build to Master Rewan but of similar height to Reda, and with almost identical cheeky temperament. We were gathered around the kitchen island when Jan came up behind me and tweaked my nipples a few times.
"So this is the new fuckslave?" said Jan, more of a statement than a question.
Unsure if it was against Master Rewan's rules, I looked to both Masters for validation.
"It's alright, we're all very close friends," assured Master Rewan.
I acknowledged that it was stipulated in Master Rewan's rules, but didn't expect it to be invoked so soon. I stood passively as Masters' friends fondled and inspected me like a common chattel, asking Masters prying questions about my talents and performance.
My mouth and throat were held open as they scrutinised my face. Like a good slave I instinctively positioned my arms behind my back to present my body. Master Rewan remarked on my Achilles' heel and Masters friends took turns tugging and twisting my slavetits. Reda smacked my lean abs a couple of times. My arse was given a thorough perusal: grabbed, spanked, cheeks parted and boycunt fingered as I bent over.
Master Greg took the opportunity to insert what felt like 2 smooth balls into my rectum connected to a looped nylon cord that dangled out of my hole. Satisfied that the balls were secure inside me, Master gave my arse a tight slap then commanded me to keep the balls inside or risk punishment. By that point my cock was standing to full attention from the handling.
Etienne opened bottles of beer for everyone and the conversation steered away from me to exchanging news and general catch-ups. Master Rewan was his usual affable self, but I was pleasantly surprised to see Master Greg laughing and joking, a sociable side of him that I thought absent.
Master Rewan was right, they were very close friends, evident by their relaxed way of talking about sexual fetishes and their experiences. Then the penny drops: Reda, Jan and Etienne must be in Masters inner circle of friends that shared their kinks too.
The drinks flowed, music blared, conversations peaked and troughed, pierced by raucous laughter and witty punchlines. The gathering thinned and swelled as they took turns to hit the shower, got ready or replenished drinks. Masters and their friends exhibited boundless familiarity as they unabashedly got ready in the living room, stripping down and exchanging tops, obligatory laddish horseplay included.
A monthly gay party was on that night and we were all heading off to that. Jan told me that it was the biggest powwow for gay revellers in the region, which intrigued me, as I had never been to such events. I was instructed to wear my previous outfit, but was allowed a fresh pair of gym top.
"You'll thank me for this outfit later," said Master Greg cryptically.
A round of Jaegermeister shots were downed and we were out the door. We bar hopped for a couple of hours, meeting friends and acquaintances along the way. Once again, I felt included as Master Rewan ensured introductions were made and English was spoken. I savoured the atmosphere wholeheartedly, exploring this cosmopolitan city's nightlife. It felt liberating to be able to wear one's sexual identity on one's sleeve.
The vibration in my arse was subtle at first, but increased to jagged tremors in tandem with my movement. I found out later that each of the balls in my arse nestled a second internal ball. As my body moved, the inner balls rolled around, creating a feeling of movement and battery-free vibration that didn't wear down or lose power as long as I kept moving. Clever.
My arse felt full, in a pre-voiding kinda way, but it also felt good as I had full control of the vibration. I had adjusted quite well to Master Greg's knack of inserting objects in my arse. My cock remained relatively hard from the stimulation and enhanced the bulge on my crotch.
The venue of the party was a superclub spanning 2 levels with multiple bars. I felt exactly like the fabled meek country mouse in awe, struggling to process all the sensory overload. Packed dance floors where sea of bodies gyrated to loud hypnotic dance music. The heat inside was bordering on oppressive that only a handful of men were wearing tops, while the rest made do without. I could smell the potent mix of testosterone and musk in the air, and tasted the hankering lustful vibe in my mouth.
LANA DEL RAY :: SUMMERTIME SADNESS (CEDRIC GERVAIS REMIX)
The whole club was filled with throngs of sweaty torsos of varying state of undress: furry bears and otters, skinny twinks, muscle marys, lanky swimmer builds, disco bunnies, athletic guys nearing zero percent body fat, and all in between. Squeezed between the packed crowd, it was difficult to discern if I was covered in a film my own sweat or someone else's. Master Greg was right.
I had to concentrate hard to follow Masters and their friends to the bar. Everywhere I looked there was a body or somebody that stole my attention. I stood transfixed unable to focus on one topless titillation before another, at times better, came into view. My attention deficit wasn't missed by Master Rewan.
"Adam... ADAM!" shouted Master Rewan, waking me from my reverie. "The usual?"
"What? Oh yeah... yeah sure... thanks," I replied over the din, nodding.
"Are you alright?"
"Yeah," I answered, somewhat unconvincingly.
Individual shot were handed out as I shook off the distractions and downed the petite dose. Any attempt to converse over the music was futile, so a beeline was made for the dancefloor. The boyfriend twins, Jan and Etienne were in their elements, dancing suggestively with Reda and Master Greg, annoying them before laughing it off with Master Rewan then launching into their own funny pirouettes. Just being cheeky really.
KYLIE MINOGUE :: TIMEBOMB
I was tipsy, I was merry, I was happy and I was content. We danced and danced and danced and danced our socks off to the playlist of that summer anthems. I didn't care anymore which of my nipples were showing, or that the balls in my arse fueled my erection, when suddenly somebody grabbed my hand. I panicked at first until I realised it was Master Rewan, sporting his usual grin. Yes, that trademark grin.
After shouting into Master Greg's ear, Master Rewan dragged me away from the dancefloor to the chillout room, where the music was a tad bit more tolerable.
"Are you sure you're ok?" enquired Master Rewan.
"Yeah. Why?" I replied.
"You were lost somewhere off planet earlier at the bar," reasoned Master.
"No, no. I was just soaking it all in."
"How are you coping with the balls?"
"Alright. Just a bit distracting," I answered, chancing my arm.
Master Rewan looked at me inquisitively, which in turn left me wondering if my honest reply bordered on insolence.
"Do you trust me?" asked Master.
"Unequivocally," I answered, faster than my cognitive reasoning allowed.
Then Master fished out something that looked like a cigarette case. Removing a tiny unassuming pill from it, Master put it in the palm of my hand and took another out for himself.
"Take it," ordered Master Rewan.
And I did, without hesitation. I didn't know what it was then, but found out later that it was ecstasy. It could've easily been Rohypnol. It could've been anything really, but my unquestioning submission to Master would had me swallowing anything.
I chased the pill down with water. Master did the same then surveyed me with a curious gaze; judging, assessing, prying, searching, determining. I met his gaze in the resulting tense and unexpectedly charged moment. Master looked amazingly sexy under the bright disco lights, his sinewy torso defined by a wifebeater accented by braces attached to a mid-thigh shorts. A baseball cap crowned the straight blond locks on his handsome face.
DELORENTOS :: S.E.C.R.E.T.
Master leaned in to give me a deep kiss, then broke it off, grabbed my hand and led me out to the smoking lounge. Reeling from that unexpected moment of intimacy, I gladly accepted a cigarette from Master and lit it up as Master Greg, Reda, Jan and Etienne joined us.
The usual animated conversation ensued. The cigarette relaxed me, as I remained silent, watched and stole clandestine look at Master Rewan from the corner of my eyes.
As if to reinforce my conflicted feelings, Master Rewan grabbed my hand again in a tight grip and led me to the dancefloor, following the rest of our coterie. Our tops were completely drenched by this point, so Master Rewan took both ours off.
The main dance floor was even more packed then. One massive can of sardines, tuna or mackerel - take your pick. There were no accounting for individual space, as erotic bodies coalesced into one orgiastic entity with the singular goal of sensual gratification. Bare flesh rubbed and slithered against another, lubricated by communal sweat. Crotch against crotch, chest against chest, arse against crotch. Anonymous hands like octopus' tentacles groped, grabbed, fondled, stroked and caressed anything within reach.
OFFER NISSIM FT. MAYA SIMANTOV :: EVERYBODY NEEDS A MAN (VJ FABBIO LESSA)
At this stage of the night, nothing was off limits and no fucks were given. Nods were carelessly tossed, beckoned the nearest bloke in for a hungry kiss, before swiftly moving on to the next. Occasionally, a guy disappeared from view as he sank on his knees, offered oral service to any passing cocks, exposed or otherwise.
Master Greg crept up to dance behind me, his crotch taking its familiar position against my arse. In his signature manner of exerting dominance, Master held my throat with one hand while the other slipped through my waistband. Reassured that the vibrating balls were still in place, Master Greg and Reda melted away into the gyrating crowd and disappeared from sight altogether. Jan and Etienne then left for the bar, leaving me and Master Rewan on our own.
Unperturbed by the sudden desertion, Master Rewan continued dancing, his defined figure flitted under the flickering strobe lights. Did I mention how sexy he looked? Irresistible in fact. An awkward feeling overcame me, as Master Rewan caught me staring at him.
Have you ever experienced the inexplicable yearning for a casual date to advance into something more? In a not dissimilar way, the emotion ambushed me then, which I immediately knew was going to complicate matters. I wanted to excuse myself to the toilet but the heaving crowd squashed Master Rewan and me together.
At that precise moment the ecstasy high hit me, amplifying all visual, aural and tactile perceptions. Colours became more vivid, sound more enchanting, every touch more compelling: a synthetic liberation of all inhibition. I staggered into my blond Viking prince's arms, unbalanced by a lapse in proprioception.
It was a precarious position to be in; I could not afford to cultivate my affection for Master Rewan, despite my compromised position. Sensing my hesitation and disorientation, he pulled me in for a long hug.
"Don't fight it. Just ride with it," he said sagaciously, shouting over the music.
FOXES :: LET GO FOR TONIGHT (REMIX)
Like a seasoned pro, Master Rewan went in for the kill. He put his forehead to mine so that our eyes met, the imprint of his electric blue eyes burned on my black. It was a sublime gesture. Sublime. The kiss, when it came, was deep and unadulterated.
Bereft of all inhibition, I returned Master's kiss in earnest, surrendering the full control of my faculties to our ersatz highs. We explored each others' exposed body like a pair of intoxicated limpets, tethering on that exalted point of bare lust and mutual infatuation. Rough, pink sweaty skin, crawling up the breathlessness of brown flesh. The rush. The sudden, mad urgency. The rise. Dreamlike.
The sum of this whole experience was simply euphoric. I did not want the moment to end.
RIHANNA :: WE FOUND LOVE FT. CALVIN HARRIS
It was a whirlwind yet heightened experience from then on, like a pimped-up carousel ride. To the bar for the requisite shots, to the loo for relief, back to the dancefloor, the chill out room, smoking lounge and back to the tantalising pit of the main dancefloor. Not once did Master Rewan let go of my hands as we shuttled back and forth.
We bumped into the rest of the posse a few times earlier, losing them again each time, but not before agreeing to meet on the dancefloor before we leave. When the music finally died down, it felt like hours had withered away. With the residual tune resonating in me, I continued to dance as Master Rewan took a step back and curiously observed me with abandoned mirth.
In the thinning crowd, Master Rewan pulled me in for another kiss. I would've preferred to continue dancing, but relished the opportunity. He had 2 pills in his mouth and shoved one into mine during the kiss. I was so parched at that point so we washed it down with water. Master winked at me and ruffled my hair affectionately.