Inferior Nothing

By Rob Y

Published on Mar 28, 2016

Gay

inferior nothing By: Rob Y haverimeseat4you at gmail dot com sgttate.com

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Sitting at my laptop, horny, and longing for a man to fuck me hard, I look over some hook up sites. Most of them do not look promising.

Being a total bottom into kink--specifically D/s, S&M, B&D, etc--most of the men are bottoms or versatile into vanilla. Being five foot five, one hundred fifty pounds, naturally hairless, and twenty-six, I fit more into the twink crowd--often getting passed over by bear or muscle men. Add to the list of undesireables is my location--I live east of the East Bay in the very suburban Livermore, CA. No one wants to drive fifty miles from the City to fuck me when there are much closer men in greater numbers nearby.

Apps are useless. The same faces are in all the hookup apps. I really don't connect with anyone.

Ever since moving to San Francisco five years ago from Phoenix to be with my then dominant boyfriend, I don't seem to connect with anyone. When we broke up a few years ago, I moved out of his one bedroom apartment, but ended in the East Bay because of the astronomical rental prices in the City.

My job it to write for a Recreational Sports Vehicle magazine or rather, I do the research for the real writers--while perpetually waiting years for a writing position to open up. One of my co-workers lived in Livermore, and he told me about an inexpensive apartment on the outskirts of town.

I can't stand it here. There's really nothing to do. Surfing the internet is my entertainment. Yes there are typical suburban things to do; there's a mall about two miles away with a megaplex of theaters. There's a 24 Hour Fitness I drive by on the way to the mall. As I drive by, I see the beefy men coming and going into the gym, and they seem to have their shit together, unlike me. I really dislike what I have become. I feel totally jaded, and I'm only in my twenties.

I know my defeatist attitude turns off many. That's fine I don't want to be around people.

But I do crave men, aggressive men, aggressive kinky men, aggressive dominant kinky men. I really need a dick up my asshole now, and he doesn't have to be kinky or dominant. Recon, Grindr, Growlr, and Scruff are a waste of time. Craigslist is pointless. Yet still I check each one. As usual, nothing presents itself. But it is on the second review of Livermore listings on Craigslist that a title catches my eye. It simply reads, "SUPERIOR GOD seeks inferior nothing."

While the capitalization caught my attention, it was the simple title that piqued my interest. I do feel like nothing. And inferior. I pause before clicking. I know I am better than that. I have a degree. I have a decent job. I have a nice car. I am nearly debt free. But thinking of those things, they all feel empty to me. And despite them, I do feel like an inferior nothing.

I click.


"I AM A SUPERIOR looking for inferiors who will offer me the gift of true adoration upon receiving debasement and disrespect. If this is not you then fuck off. I am willing to piss off 99.9% of the population in order to find the 0.1% that craves my natural superiority.

"I get off on being the MAN in any situation--lusted by many. I have an ego, and I expect it to be fed.

"You are an inferior nothing. You need to have ME around to make you complete. You need a real MAN to worship and adore. The adoration needs to be honest. I need to see it in your eyes, in your heart, and in your spirit. This is not a 'scene'. This extends into the core of your soul.

"I have moved with my wife to Livermore from Chicago just two weeks ago. I left three regular inferior nothings, each trained to adore and worship me in a specific manner. It took years to find them and mold them. When I left, each cried devistated. I am looking for a cadre of inferiors here in California; I deserve it. This is the first ad. Specifically, I am looking for a regular in the morning, between 8:30 AM and 11:00 AM Monday through Thursday and until 2:00 PM on Friday. Expect nothing outside these times. You should live by the 24 Hour Fitness, to worship my sweat covered body after my morning workout. This is done at your place. You should live alone.

"I am a demanding prick, and you are a compliant cunt. The following is a list of what I demand from you from the very first moment you are in my presence, and by contacting me you agree to each one.

  1. You will accept me as SUPERIOR and you as an inferior nothing. 2) You will relish every face slap I plant on your pathetic face at any time. 3) You will drink my piss that you will view as liquid gold. 4) You will lick clean my sweaty ass, including sticking your tongue in my hole. 5) You will take my cum when I give it, and in which hole I dump it in. 6) You will not touch your useless skin flap between your legs in my presence.

"Many other activities, such as blowing me, taking my cock in your cunt, not wearing clothes in my presence, lowering your eyes, etc. are a given so there's no need to list them out here.

"I have a gigantic dick, about nine and a half inches long and very thick. You will scream when I fuck you. Your screams are music to me; it tells me that my MANLINESS is too much for you. It also tells me that you are suffering while pleasing my cock. If you do not scream, your cunt must already be a sloppy gaping hole, and I don't want your damaged goods.

"While I have a real dick, yours should be tiny and negligible. I expect a small pecker on you, less than five inches. If your thing is between five and six inches, you better be one hell of an inferior nothing for me to look past that. If you are over six inches, I don't want you; so move on. A big DICK SIZE says MAN, and yours should say that you are an inferior nothing. This is non-negotiable. I WILL have a ruler for our first meeting.

"I am also a HUGE MAN, I am six foot five, about two hundred and eighty pounds, most of which is muscle. I have a hairy chest. No one ever doubts that I am a true MAN.

"You should be the opposite, under five eight and under one seventy. Hell under five six is even better. If you don't go to the gym, don't start.

"I have many more demands of you as your service continues. I will announce them as I see fit. They are not negotiable. If at any time you don't want to do anything, all you have to say is you want out, and I will never return. Your silence tells me that you accept your role as an inferior nothing and you accept my demands.

"All of your wants and needs that are contrary to mine are irrelevant.

"If you have made it this far and you want to audition as one of my inferiors, then you need to write me with the following:

  1. Nude pic from the neck down, both front and back. 2) Pic of your hard-on next to a ruler. 3) Tell me why you are an inferior nothing. 4) Complete address and morning phone number, preferably a textable cell phone.

"If you do not feel you can do any part of this, then don't waste my time. If you do, then start not thinking of yourself, and respond."


That's it. I cannot believe that I match a lot of what he is looking for. I have been slapped around and done kinky things with my ex years ago. I drink piss on occasion. I love to eat ass. I love to get fucked. I am on PrEP. My dick is less than five inches. Most guys I meet are turned off to my tiny dick, and this guy wants it. Unbelievable.

The only issue I have is: am I an inferior nothing? The way that I am feeling about myself, yes I am. And even if I don't like what's going on, at least I have an out with this guy.

I take the demanded pics. Putting them into an e-mail, I stare at the blank screen. Being a writer, it is strange to not know what to write. I start, "I am an inferior nothing because" but cannot complete the thought let alone the sentence.

I started writing my life story, but even that seems to be not the right approach. In fact it seems like me complaining again. With a highlight and a delete, my life story disappears.

I once again am staring at "I am an inferior nothing because I am," and once again I draw a blank. I just stare at those eight words. I feel that way because I do feel that I am, but I cannot place why. Then those eight words do explain precisely why. "I am an inferior nothing because I am." Simple.

That's what I use. From that point, the rest of the e-mail is easy to write. I send it and instantly regret it. Am I really ready to consider myself a nothing to a man I know absolutely nothing about other than being an egotistical prick with a large prick.

It's been a few hours since he posted his ad, and he's probably found someone. I do not hear a response. I go to sleep unsatisfied. Even jerking off doesn't help.

Logging in to my computer in the early morning, there are no messages from him. I begin my Tuesday morning work ritual where I receive the latest research requests from the real writers.

At 8:10 AM my phone indicates I have a text from an unfamiliar number. "inferior nothing, I will be over in exactly 20 minutes. Leave your front door unlocked and slightly ajar. Be cleaned out. Be naked. And most importantly be in a position that will instantly tell me that you are unworthy of my presence. SUPERIOR GOD"

My heart races. I run to the bathroom and turn on the shower and the douche hose. A quick cleanout is done in a number of minutes. I would have liked to do a deep clean, but there is no time.

Drying off I look around. My place is a mess, but there's no time to clean. I slightly open my front door. I kneel in front of it with my head bowed down like a slave to its master. That doesn't seem like a worshipful pose. I think about how some people worship their gods around the world. Some religious followers put their heads to the floor. I do that--my ass up in the air. He expects me to be an inferior nothing, so having my ass up in the air doesn't seem right. Instead, I lay flat on the floor with my arms at my side.

I hear some loud footsteps approach. At the last minute, I move my arms so they are in front of my head but still on the floor. My eyes are open but only able to see the grains of the hard wood.

My door opens. He comes in.

"Well lookie here! I can't believe it. I do have a worthless nothing in front of me."

I hear him drop things on the chair nearest the front door. Taking a few steps to me, I feel the balls of his shoes step onto my fingers. While not his full weight, it's just enough pressure to cause pain, but more importantly to make a statement.

"Well faggot, do you think you are worthy to be in my presence?" After a long pause, "Bitch I asked you a question. Answer me."

"I don't know Sir."

"Knock that 'Sir' shit off. If you are going to address me, call me 'My Lord'. Are you worthy?" He applies more pressure to my fingers.

"No My Lord."

He grinds further. My fingers feel like they will snap off. "Are you sure shithead?"

"I don't know. I don't know if I am worthy." I almost forgot. I add, "My Lord."

"You don't know. Exactly. You are nothing. You don't think."

With that he steps off my fingers. I instinctively start to stretch them.

He continues, "I will do all the thinking. Now it is time for you to see your Superior God for the first time." Grabbing a fistful of my hair, he lifts me up by my head. I cannot turn my head in any direction other than looking down. He stops with my head about knee height.

I can see his black tennis shoes--expensive ones but nothing flashy. His ankle socks are barely noticeable peaking out over the top of each shoe. I can see thick calves--hairy, but not overly so--flex a little due to subtle shifting of his position.

"Loosen my laces and then hold my shoes so I can take them off." I scurry to his left foot. I undo his tie and feed the slack through the lace holes. Pulling on the tongue, his foot now has the room to step out. Holding on to the shoe's back my one hand and the toe in my other, he removes his size thirteen quad E foot.

Repeating the process on the other foot, I still haven't seen what he looks like. This is exciting me.

He lifts his right foot and in a second removes his sock. After repeating with his left, he throws the pair of socks in front of my face.

"Pick up those socks and cover your nose and mouth. Inhale deeply. Memorize my smell."

Closing my eyes, I breathe in. They are soaked in foot sweat. It smells like he has been wearing them for a week. But regardless, they fucking smell like a man's socks.

"Now kiss each foot once."

Removing the socks from my nose and opening my eyes, I see him kicking off his gym shorts. They land on his shoes. My god, he's without shorts. He's probably naked or in a jock. FUCK! I am so turned on.

Leaning down, I give each foot a kiss.

"You will get to love sucking on those toes like a cock. Now I want you to sit back on your heels and slowly look up at your LORD and MASTER. Take your time doing it. Don't rush this moment."

I move back. For the first time, I can feel my hard on as it rages against my thigh. I dare not touch it.

The first thing I notice is his mammoth thighs. They are totally in line with his thick calves. I can barely notice them because now I see one of the thickest cocks I have ever seen straining the pouch of a jock. That cannot possibly fit into my mouth.

I continue looking up. His wide torso stretches the dripping wet from sweat tank top. He is huge. His biceps are bigger than my head. His shoulders glow from the dried sweat.

Oh my fucking god. HE IS HOT. A well-manicured salt and pepper moustache on his lips matches his closely cropped hair. He's naturally bald on top, and he wears it quite well.

I used to jerk off to my high school coach, and this man far surpasses him in his masculine handsomeness. His eyebrows are still black. They are tensely pulled towards his nose. He looks pissed off. I don't care if I made a mistake somewhere; I cannot look away. He is everything he promised and more. I cannot believe that this man is even interested in me. I am stunned. This man could have any gay man in a leather bar--square jaw, dimpled chin, bushy eyebrows, thick neck, and traps that look morphed. I don't get this. Why me? Why is he standing in my apartment wanting to have sex with me?

As if reading my thoughts, "That's the look I was waiting for. I want you to memorize what you are thinking at this very moment. It will help you to define who you are. Whenever you are in doubt of what you are doing recall your thoughts, and recall this sight."

With that the tank top comes off. I could never forget what I am seeing. The sweat glistened chest hair covers his torso, but it is not dense. His pink perky nipples stick out, probably from playing with them. I want to touch him.

"You like what you see?"

"Yes, My Lord."

"Good." He steps forward and slaps me across the face. It isn't a light tap or a play slap. No, this jolts my head. It is completely unexpected and jarring. "There are two things I enjoy doing to your face. One is sitting on it, and the other is slapping it. I like slapping a faggot's face." He does it again--just as intense. "Whenever I do it, I want you to say the following, 'I deserve that because I am an inferior nothing.' Repeat that now." He slaps me a third time.

I am shaken by those three slaps. "Thank you My Lord. I deserve that because I am an inferior nothing."

"No." He slaps me a fourth time. "I don't want to know if you have gratitude or not. I really don't care, and it doesn't matter. Now repeat it as I told you."

He raises his hand up, and I begin, "I deserve that because I am an inferior nothing."

"Good. You are learning."

He slaps me a fifth time. "I deserve that because I am an inferior nothing."

Grabbing my hair, he yanks my head back. I look into his deep green eyes. "You are never to look in my eyes more than a microsecond glance unless your eyes are at or below the level of my dick. When you are above my cock, you should be looking down. My dick is the perfect thing for your gaze. You got that?" He slaps me a sixth time.

Do I answer his question or do I offer with his expected response? I decide to answer, "I deserve that because I am an inferior nothing. Yes, My Lord, I got that."

"All these slapping around has done something to me. Want to know what it is?"

"What My Lord?"

"This!"

With that he pulls my head onto his jock's contents. And he's hard. The jock is barely containing him. Grinding his cock into my face I can tell he is rock hard. The smell is rank sweat. It is intoxicating. I start licking and smelling and feeling and looking.

He pulls me back. "Let me make you really drool." With that, he quickly removes the jock, placing it on the pile with the shoes, the socks, the shorts, and the tank top. He stands upright. His cock points directly at me. I cannot tell it's length, but I can see that it is fucking thick. It's head glistens from his sweat and possibly from my spit from a few moments ago. "Fucking amazing isn't it?"

"Yes My Lord." After calling so many men "Sir" for years, including my ex, I find it interesting that the switch to "My Lord" has been natural.

He shakes it at me. "This cock gives you life, and your life is this cock. Now bitch, stand up. I want to inspect you." I stand. My eyes are still drawn to his dick. He moves to a large duffle bag sitting on a garment bag. He pulls out a ruler, just like I had in grade school. "Measure my length." He hands me the ruler.

I nervously hold it in my hands. Moving the straight side to his dick, I try not to touch it.

"Faggot. Don't be afraid to touch my cock. It's going to rape your throat and shred your cunt. So, you might as well get used to it as quickly as you can."

It is so big and hard. The skin is so soft. With my right hand I hold the pre-cum covered head. There is so much wetness that I can't maintain a full grasp. Moving the ruler to the side, it measures a little more than nine inches.

"Clean your fingers."

I start sucking the pre-cum from my palm. There is so much there.

"I want you to consume it all. You should want to be drunk on my pre-cum, my spooge, my piss, and my sweat. It is completely natural for an inferior twat like you to long after my spooge. How big is it?"

I exaggerate a quarter inch, "It's nine and half inches, My Lord."

"Good. Now measure your little pecker." Instinctively, I blush. I don't want to show my shortcomings. He senses my embarrassment. "Awwww, just how tiny is it? Let me see." I stand up and look to the right a bit. "Ha ha ha! It is one of the smallest I have ever seen. Give me that ruler." I hand him the ruler. He kneels on one knee then lightly taps the ruler to my dick head. "You are rock hard. Glad to see that being told what an inferior nothing you are is keeping you hard. Don't care what's going on in your mind, but this hard on is telling me everything. So let's see." The ruler goes along side. "Fuck yeah! Four and a half inches! That's less than half my length. I thought your pic measured five yesterday. You must have been doing one of those inches games that tiny dicked inferiors do."

He swats my shaft with the ruler, but this time it is hard. I bend over at the same time that he stands.

"That's for exaggerating the size of your little skin flap. Now step back and stand upright."

I take a step back. My eyes are fixated on that cock. He starts stroking it with his left hand.

"Damn that pecker is tiny. Has anyone ever turned you down because of it?"

His words are stinging a bit. I feel so vulnerable.

"Your face clearly says they have!" He continues slowly stroking his cock, most likely subconsciously than actively jerking it. "I see you don't work out. Continue that. Muscles will give you a false sense of masculinity. Don't gain weight either. I want you small and non-existent. Your looks are kinda plain, that's good. Turn around and show me your cunt."

Facing away, I bend over. I see him approach me. He jams a finger in my hole. Fuck that hurts. I scream out. He is unfazed by my pain, as he continues finger fucking me. A second finger joins the first twisting in my hole.

"Damn you are tight. I don't know how I'm going to fuck your cunt this tight. While you screaming in pain is a good thing, your twat strangling my dick is not." With that he pulls out his fingers. "Get up, turn back around, and get back on your knees."

I straighten up as the painful tingling in my hole starts to dissipate. After turning around and descending to my knees, he presents his two fingers that were up my ass not ten seconds ago.

I hesitate not knowing what to do. A face slap with the same hand jolts me.

"FUCKHEAD?"

Shit I forgot. "I deserve that slap because I am an inferior nothing."

"Faggot. Just about everything that I take out of your ass goes into your mouth for cleaning. You will do good to remember that after every fuck I grant you."

He jams his fingers into my mouth. They immediately go to the back of my tongue. Starting to gag, I want to vomit.

"Just relax. Remember my dick is a lot bigger and it's going to go deep in here. So you need to get used to it. I can't have you puking all over my dick."

I strain to suck on his fingers as they command my mouth.

"This mouth is really your connection to my magnificence. It's where you will take my cock and its cum." He pulls out his fingers. Interrupting his train of thought, he asks, "You thirsty?"

I nod. "Yes, My Lord."

He reaches over to his full translucent orange water bottle. "Here." He opens the top of the bottle and hands it to me. "Drink up."

I start to drink, but it is rancid. It's not water, but piss.

"That's from this morning at the gym. As I was saying, your mouth is your connection with my superiority. It will be my urinal."

I take only one sip. I have forgotten how pungent the taste is. My ex used to have me drink his piss during a scene.

"I want that all in your belly within the next 30 seconds. You ARE my urinal from this moment on. ALL of my piss will go through you first. And you will be begging for it in time. You will live for it. But now, get started."

I start to take large sips of the extremely strong salty rancid liquid. I don't think, I just consume. I don't know if I complete the task in 30 seconds of less, but he doesn't seem to be interested in time. He fumbles with round wooden rods at his large duffel. It looks like he's screwing them into something.

I don't have to figure out what as he pulls out a round wooden loop with the four wooden rods perpendicularly coming out of one side. Only when he flips it around that I realize that it's a rim seat. He grabs his rolled up gym towel and throws it down.

"Now it's time for you to learn what your tongue is really used for. Every morning my ass will be dripping with sweat. Your job will be to make me clean. Now get on your back, head on the towel. Also move your hands over your head on the floor."

I lay down on the floor. After placing the towel to be my pillow, he places the rim seat over my head. Looking up through the seat, I see him standing there looking down at me. With his phone, he takes a pic of his dick with me under the rim seat below it. He walks away and comes back with my iPhone in his hand.

"What's your phones passcode?"

"My Lord?"

"Now is not the time for you to assert yourself as if you had any identity. Your privacy is not my concern. I walk out that door if you don't give me your code in five seconds. Five . . . four. . . ."

I know I can always change it later. "5234."

He doesn't respond other than turning around and showing me his meaty ass. Just like his dick, his thighs, his chest, his everything--his ass his large and meaty with a fine covering of hair. It descends rapidly. At the last moment, his ass cheeks part revealing his asshole. Unlike the times my ex had me under a seat, he doesn't face my body; rather my body lies behind him. In this position, his hole lines up perfectly with my mouth.

He wasn't kidding when he said it was sweaty. I taste sweat and natural man musk.

"Your tongue is to not only lick my crack, but to slop around inside my asshole."

After a few swipes along the crack, I zero in on the hole. Two seconds after I shove my tongue in, I can hear him moan.

"Faggot, that tongue was made to lick the shithole of a real man, a SUPERIOR man. If my cock gives you life, being under the rimseat is now your home. I want you to continually ream my shithole with your tongue as I talk to you. You need to listen to every word I say, and I have a lot to say. If you understand, shove your tongue deep into my shitter."

I extend my tongue deep. It's hard for me to breathe.

"Good faggot. Continue what you were doing." I go back to licking and exploring with my tongue. "Every morning you will be under this rimseat for about an hour. During that time your focus will be--as it is now--on making my shithole feel good. In your head, I want you to think--as you should be now--that nothing exists in this universe except for your tongue and my hole. If you need a blindfold and noise cancelling headphones to block out your senses so that you can focus on my hole and your tongue, I will install them on you. For now, just ignore everything else except your tongue. Your tongue can feel each and every folds and ridge. There is a need for your tongue to be planted deep. That instinct needs to consume you. Focus on it cunt and nothing else."

He remains silent for a long time. I try to put my random thoughts out of my head and give my attention to tongue fucking him, as he instructed. It's actually easy to relax into this. Strangely I am totally calm.

Ball hairs stroke the top of my forehead. They move in rhythm. He's jerking off.

"Now I want your thoughts to go to the fact that your tongue is going into a hole that shit comes out of every day. You are licking where another MAN shits. That makes you lower than my shit. You are so fucking inferior. Every day, you will do this. You will confirm that my shithole is where you belong, where you live. Nothing else exists than sticking your tongue deep inside the place where I take massive dumps. And, that you feel completely at ease doing so, and that your inferior life needs this to exist. Now if you understand that you are meant for this life, stick your tongue deep in my shithole like you did before."

I hesitate.

"I knew this would be a problem. Well I will say that, I usually don't get into scat, and I have no intention of shitting in your mouth."

I am relieved. I stick my tongue deep into his ass as he instructed.

He starts to laugh for a while. "Cunt, don't get too into yourself. I have fed cunts like you in the past, and I will do it again in the future. If I want to dump in your mouth, I will, and I won't even warn you. Inferior nothings like you don't deserve warnings. But rest assured, I usually shit in the evening. But in your head when you are reaffirming your inferiority remember that I have the right to take a dump in your mouth. Do you understand?"

I again bury my tongue.

"And from this moment forward you are to refer to my asshole as my 'shithole' because I want you to always remind yourself that where you find comfort and solace is such place where normal people consider repulsive."

He puckers his shithole around my tongue.

"Now, your hands lie on the floor above your head for one reason. It's so that I know exactly what they are doing at any time. You are never to touch yourself in my presence. You will be chastitized at a later time when I decide. Until then, I want you to beat off frequently. When I leave here today I want you to jerk yourself off as fast as possible with that . . ." His ass moves around on my face as a result of twisting his torso. "That little pecker of yours is so fucking useless. I don't know how you made it this far in your life knowing you had such an inferior thing there. I put my contact information in your iPhone, under the name 'My Lord.' I want you to text me a pic of your cum filled hand as proof that you followed my instructions. You will jerk off at least five times today. Tomorrow too. Every day until I tell you to stop. You will text me pics for evidence. I have transferred a number of my pics to your phone to give you a visual reference of the GOD you worship. I will leave my sweaty ripe gym clothes for my smell. You will only jerk off to my rank clothing and my photos--nothing else. My smell needs to be imprinted in your head. I want this place to smell of me at all times. Do you understand what is expected of you?"

My tongue responds.

"Good. Now rapidly tongue-fuck me. I want to get off while sitting on your face."

I am not going to get fucked or even to blow him?

"Go faggot!"

I shove and withdraw my tongue as fast as I can. He is jerking off furiously; his balls slap on my forehead.

He breathes heavy. "Cunt, shove deep inside my shithole." He's close.

I push my face into his crack, so far that I cannot find an opening to breathe.

The man roars. "FUUUUUUUUUCCCKKKK!" His shithole constricts around my tongue. We both relax, but I still feel his aftershocks on my tongue. While I don't see anything, I know that his orgasm was intense and lengthy.

He gets up facing away from me. I cannot see his cock. He grabs a small travel bag from his stuff that he brought.

"Follow me." I lift the rimseat off of my face. Getting up, I catch a glance of the mess he did. He has several ribbons of cum puddling on my floor.

Paying it no mind, he goes into my bathroom followed by me. Pointing to the bathroom rug, he instructs me to prostrate myself. I remain in that position while he showers.

Afterwards durring shaving, he continues to instruct. "If you don't have one, go and get a dildo one and a half inch thick and about six inches long. Work your cunt. You are too tight for my dick for me to get any pleasure from. I probably won't be back until Friday, a small possibility for Thursday. You will clean out your cunt and be prepared by 8:30 each morning. Do you understand?"

"Yes, My Lord." He hasn't asked much of me in a while.

"Good. Follow me." We go back to the living room. He takes a suit out of the garment bag he brought. "Lick up my cum off the floor. Savor every drop."

I scurry over to the wet white ropes on the floor. While I lick, he puts on his clothes.

"I want you to smell every piece of clothing I leave you. I want you to get intoxicated on the delicious rank smells."

Right now I am enjoying the salty spooge on the floor. My floor needs to be swept up, but I don't care as I continue to lick.

"Remember you need to cum five times today and send me the pics of your spooge filled hand. Indicate what you were smelling and what thoughts were going through your head leading up to cumming. Text them to me at that number in your phone. Don't worry, I have that number specifically for my cunts. And don't use it to call me." He adds with authority, "Ever!"

So there is going to be more than me.

With him fully dressed, and me finishing licking his spunk, I look up at him about to leave. He is so fucking sexy in his expensive-looking designer suit--sexier now than when he arrived.

Before walking out the door, he turns and pulls out his semi-soft cock.

"Get over here toilet."

I get to drink his piss. Without a moment of pause, I am in front of him.

"Take just my head in your mouth."

I do. Even soft his cockhead fills my mouth. The piss starts, and it is not a firm stream. He runs his hands through my hair.

"Oh, and shave all your hair from the neck down. Do that before I see you again."

I look up at him as his piss slows down. He smiles. I smile back, well, as much as I can with his dick pissing in my mouth. I really haven't had time to process everything he has done and said. All I know is that I want to see him too.

"I'm going to like controlling everything about you." He pulls his dick out and tucks it away.

He smacks me hard across the face. From a kneeling position, I fall over.

Quickly I say, "I deserved that as I am an inferior nothing."

He opens the door. "That you are." He then adds, "Most definitely" as he leaves.


Comments or Questions:

haverimseat4you at gmail dot com sgttate.com

Next: Chapter 2


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