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Even The First - PART FOUR
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START Even The First - PART FOUR
[quote] Chapter Title : Fucking your slave.
Fucking your slave is the ultimate not only in terms of your own physical pleasure. When you fuck your slave you experience ownership to the fullest extent. So does the slave. Its subordination is reinforced; it is grateful and reassured by being fucked; it is calmed by this evidence of its purpose as your property. Fucking your slave establishes in the slave the most complete expression of what it is to be owned completely by another man.
If you do not fuck your slave, soon you will not have a slave. [unquote]
This is how Paul had controlled me for all these years - fucking me regularly so I have never lost the fire of need. The core of my being was his wood; I felt a continual ache for it. Even now, kneeling on the floor of his bedroom, I wanted it and so did my hole: I wanted all this to be over, all this discovery and distress and bitterness and anger and the pressure I felt to do something, to escape. I wanted it to go away. I wanted it all to go away and let me sleep until Paul came home and let me make him satisfied and lick him, and have him fuck me and have him fuck it as deeply as it went.
And it had been like this since even the first time Paul's arms had held me, there in the cold basement darkness. For a couple of moments of silent comfort, I was shivering both with excitement and with the cold wet he had held me until finally, quietly, he had said, "I am going to fuck you." Even since that first.
I was ready for it. I desperately wanted it. I remember trying to communicate my receptivity by pressing my buttocks back against his caressing palm and letting his finger stroke my hole which was pulsating and wet with shower water. I tried to, ridiculously, think my thoughts into his head: "Fuck me, fuck me, please fuck me, Sir, please fuck me, Paul, please Sir, fuck me..."
Already he was inside my brain and forming my desires to the contours of his will. Like he did not want to fuck me! Like he would not! He was going to fuck me and, though I had a choice, I didn't have a choice, cs we both wanted it, I most of all, so deeply. I wanted to feel the hot of his sperm. His cock in my hand throbbed gently and hot. I could feel the outer skin slip against its hard stony core. It was unbendable. The head was fat and bursting with his blood. I knew that he wanted it as much as I did but I knew, somehow, that he wanted something more from me before he would give me the reward for which I was ravenous: He wanted my complete capitulation. He wanted me to beg for it. He wanted me to let him demand everything of me in return for receiving the penetration of him into my hole: Unconditional subservience.
And I accepted these terms, I guess. I could feel him hard and aching and I wanted it that much. I desperately began thinking of ways to please him, to make him satisfied, to bring him to the point where he felt I had earned his use of my hole for him.
I wriggled and squirmed and then I slipped from his arms, kissing him as I fell to the floor, kissing his dick, his balls, his feet. Eventually I found myself whimpering, "Please Sir Please. Please fuck me Sir!"
Crouched on the tiles, kissing and licking his toes and feet and the heels and instep of his feet and the arch of his feet, I begged him to fuck me and tried to convince him - like it was an argument I could use to get him to do it, like it was an argument I could win - I found myself begging him, "Please Sir Please. Please fuck me Sir!"
I knew Paul was watching me, in the half light. I knew he was deciding, What would I have to do to deserve his fucking cock?
Eventually Paul spoke, "Yeh," he said, "that's right, that's good." He lifted up his foot so that I could get his whole big toe in my mouth and suck on it. I was desperate. I was ready. Then he said, "Right, stand, turn around ... hands behind, that's it."
I did as I was told. I felt Paul slip a standard metal handcuff on my right wrist and just as quickly snapped the cuff on my left. "Right. You're ok," he said, tugging them to test and then slapping my shoulder.
I felt his wood touch the round mound of my bottom. He was going to get it.
I was jubilant. Now I knew he was going to fuck me.
He let my hands fall so that they rested on my buttocks.
"Right, that's good, turn round, follow."
Slightly unsteady I followed him back up the stair, into the warmth of the rest of the house. I followed him out and into one of the rooms. There was a TV and a vinyl sofa which he pulled out so that it flattened into a makeshift bed.
"Right. Lie down on your back."
I squatted down to sit and then rolled onto my back and lifted my legs into the air, stretching them wide apart for him. As I assumed the position he lowered his trousers and prepared his wood with a little spit. My arms dug painfully into my back. Then he knelt on the bed, shuffled forward and let my calves rest on his shoulders and then he positioned his penis so that it was pressing the entrance to my rectum.
"Right, let's see," he said as he forced it forward, landing his weight on my shoulders so my arms were in agony and I almost couldn't think about his penis driving up, but I felt it push and tried to breath out so it would and then felt it slide right up with a series of hard thrusts till it hit my gut with a jarring thump. For some time Paul used his pelvis to deliver it against me whilst holding me down by my chest and shoulders and neck. He was looking at me some of the time, or through me, or sometimes at his dick withdrawing and reentering my anus smooth and glossed with juice. My legs were pushed up round my ears, the full force of his weight on my splayed thighs, and we were both breathing quickly as he extended his thrust both more slowly and more deeply.
Paul concentrated in a satisfied way. I was melting into the rhythm of it as he gripped my neck and choked me and piled it harder and faster into me, forcing my legs flat under his weight and punching it deep so that all could feel was the pain of his assault and the pleasure of getting him fully inside far up into it.
"Right, on your front bitch," was all he said to me, pulling out and sitting back. He grabbed a leg and tossed me over like a joint of meat and with my arms cuffed and pushed up my back he went back in, lay on me all his weight so I was unable to move, chin painfully against the armrest, and fucked the man out of me 'til I begged for him to cum and stop, "Please no," and "Oh god," he slammed my face with a punch, "Shut the fuck up!" and continued to fuck it harder and harder and more painfully on my muscles, until his rhythm changed suddenly, slow and then faster and then he drove it an inch or so further than it had been, pushing my legs, his arm firm round my neck, and I felt his man sperm shooting into it breeding it and filling it and breaking it into me.
Paul made a classic 'nghhrrr' cum sound.
As he subsided he milked himself gently inside me, letting the last of his juice flow into the absorbent lining of my rectum. I felt full and damaged. The sting of my wounded anus screeched with each movement of his shaft against it.
When he was finally emptied and satisfied he pulled out and sat back on his heels. He rubbed my hole with his fingers, collecting the mixture of juice oozing out of it.
"Right, get up."
I was floundering in my chest. I rolled painfully off the bed onto the floor and worked my way into a kneeling position with Paul looking down on me, letting the residue run over his fingers as he continued pulling at his sore cock apparently thoughtfully of some private business. Then he held his hand towards me for me to lick. I did. My hands were still locked behind me, but I did my best to lean towards him and consume the mess of liquids. As I did so Paul led me, like a cat following a saucer of cream, to the pulsing meat now hanging between his legs. I transferred my mouth to this and sucked it clean as Paul stroked my hair and positioned my head to access the smelly gap between his sticky bollocks and his leg. I supped on him like I was all hunger.
After I had consumed everything dripping from him Paul told me to lick the couch. I started licking the vinyl laboriously. The juices there had dripped from him when he knelt up. Then I found more juices from where he had fucked it out of me, dripping his precum and spit and other lubricant fluids out of my hole and running off my balls and arsecrack. Then I found my own juice, realising finally that I had cum whilst he had been fucking so hard and in such pain that I hadn't noticed. That was when I had said, 'oh god' and the thick milk had poured in sheds. It spread further as my thick tongue spread about until I used my lips and sucked it up noisily, my own ejaculate and the fluids from my own body all in my mouth, salty and filling.
It took me about ten minutes to totally clean the couch. I swallowed everything and learned its taste running sweetly down my throat. Those were the tastes of my life. Paul watched quietly as I obediently cleaned up after us.
When I had finished, Paul, enjoying the sight of a full grown military man cuffed and smearing his face with his own cum and assjuice, the man he had just violated and ruined, I sat up and looked at Paul and I said, "Thankyou, Sir," and Paul smiled.
"Good boy."
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Even The First - PART FOUR