Master and Slave, Chapter 8
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Seductive and sadistic -- that was my MASTER. Not only was he physically beautiful, but he had a combination of charm (when he wanted) and dominance, which worked on me like an aphrodisiac. And the training really was working. By now I could not even jerk off without thinking about humiliation from him. I would see myself in his arms, kissing him, and then imagine him beating me, and my cock would explode. I would imagine him fucking slave David, with me tied up, watching helplessly, and just the thought of MASTER humiliating me like that was enough to make me cum. And my frequent emails to him usually now actually contained suggestions for how to mindfuck me more deeply. It was like having his big cock inside my head; it hurt, but I also deeply needed it, I dreamt about it, I would think about it in daydreams at work.
Our next few meetings took a new turn. He began to regularly tie me up. Of course, at this point, he really didn't even need rope, since my mind was under his control, but the physical bonds felt right to me, especially when he was beating me or whipping me. As soon as he started to tie me up, I would be hard. I felt like I belonged to him, I was his to do whatever he wanted. He used my body like an object.
He also took control of my orgasms. I was no longer allowed to cum without permission. Or he would give me permission to cum, say, twice in one week. Which of course just made me more horny; usually I was hard again 5 minutes after shooting.
One time he came over and tied me to the bed, on my stomach. Then he took out his belt and started flogging my back. Of course I had to yell out how much I loved him, and thank him for every stroke. And my cock was so hard and I was so horny, I was humping the bed like a kid. I pleaded with him to let me cum, but he refused. Usually when this happened he would deliberately do something especially erotic to me, like play with my balls, or put his cock tantalizingly close to my mouth, only to remove it when I tried, stretching out, to kiss it. He became an expert at edging me, he knew all the little signs when I was close to orgasm. Sometimes he would just stop there, and sometimes he would keep up, but order me not to cum. It was agonizing, since I LOVED any type of physical contact with him. But if I cum without permission, usually it meant that he just packed up and left within seconds. He knew that was the worst punishment for me -- just leaving me alone, desperate with need for him.
In another visit he tied me to the bed, and edged me mercilessly. I was panting with the effort of NOT cumming, and then he suddenly untied me, and ordered me on floor, on my knees. He put his hard cock right in front of my mouth and started slapping my face with it. But he ordered my hands off my own cock, since just the contact with his dick would have made me cum after all that frustration. And then he gave me a diabolical choice: "You have a decision to make, faggot. You either get to cum, or else you finally get to suck my cock. And if you suck my cock, you are not allowed to cum for 2 weeks." This was the first time I had a chance to suck his cock, and I had been fantasizing about it constantly. But two weeks without cumming? I am a really horny faggot, and I can cum four or five times in one day, so two weeks seemed unbelievably long. Finally I chose to suck him -- of course he had known I would -- and he proceeded to face fuck me, roughly, for almost an hour. I had been dreaming about having him shoot in my mouth, but as usual, he combined a gift -- his cock in my mouth -- with something frustrating: He pulled out at the last second and came on the floor. Of course I had to lick it up, but I had wanted so badly to feel him fill my mouth with it.
Sometimes he would tie my hands behind my back, and my feet together, and then lie down nude beside me, so tantalizingly close, but just out of my reach. And I had strict orders that I could not touch him without permission. Sometimes he would add a ball gag, and of course then I could not even ask for permission. And he would taunt me with questions I could not answer. He would ask me if I wanted his cock inside me, but with the gag I just made animal noises. And then he would laugh at me, and say, "Too bad, faggot, you just lost your chance." At times like that I actually admired him more, since he had become so wonderful at knowing just how to use my own needs against me. I also loved the fact that he was hardest while humiliating me. If he spit in my face, or slapped me, or made me beg for something and then refused it, I could actually see his hard cock jump, and that made me harder also. The same thing sometimes happened when he "changed the rules" on me, for example when, instead of having to beg for the honor or licking his boots, he made it a standing order to do it immediately, and punished me if I did NOT lick them instantly. Little changes like this kept me on my toes all the time, and of course sometimes I was wrong. And then he would slap my face, or spit on me, and I would have to thank him and yell out, "I love you, MASTER".
It was hard for me to accept that I needed this man not only because he was so sexy, but exactly because he was sadistic with me. And he was such an intuitive psychologist, who knew just what would penetrate my faggot slave mind the most. I was realizing that that was what I loved most about him, the thing which made him so irresistible to me: the total mindfuck. It was like being impaled permanently on his hard cock.
(to be continued)