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Thanks to the dos and subs who've reached out to say hello! I welcome feedback from other subs like me, or from doms who have something to teach us. I enjoy connecting with other men, and I will respectfully respond to any and all messages. Please say hello. Humbly, Danny. mrkonigssub@gmail.com
When I got home yesterday afternoon, my Sir called me into his office. He was at his desk, writing a note. Mr. Konig was dressed in his best suit and polished boots, smoking a cigar. His salt-and-pepper beard and hair were neatly trimmed. He looked like a king at work in his court. I noticed a travel bag on a chair by his desk.
"Are you going somewhere, Sir?" I blurted out.
Mr. Konig continued writing. Still looking down, he said, "When I want you to ask me questions, I'll tell you, boy. Understand?"
"Yes, Sir."
He put his pen in the holder and leaned back in the chair. He looked me up and down, taking a drag from his big cigar. He exhaled a cloud of smoke, then said, "Strip to your jock, boy."
I did, removing my gym shorts and tank.
"Turn around." I did. "Again." I did.
He had me pose, inspecting my body to see my progress, reclining and drawing on his cigar as I posed for him. The smell of a man fresh from the barbershop mixed with cigar smoke and leather made my head spin.
"Face me, and kneel down." I did. "Eyes one me."
I knelt with my hands behind my back, as I'd been trained to do. My left hand holding the cuff on my right wrist. I looked directly at my owner.
"Mr. Stark called to tell me you did very well today..." he said, a slight smile on his face. (God, he was so handsome!) I wanted to say something, I was so thrilled to have my coach's praise, but I bit my tongue.
"...Both in the gym and in the locker room."
I smiled, remembering the gorgeous cocks I'd just sucked, and the hot loads I'd been fed.
"You're going to get one more load today." He unzipped the fly of his tailored trousers, and pulled out his half-hard cock, already impressive in girth. "Over here, boy."
I crawled over the polished wood floor as he worked his bull balls and rising cock out of the open fly. He was quickly getting fully hard now. His massive daddy meat was framed by his dark business suit; a portrait of alpha male power. Chomping on his fat stogie, he spread his legs and spoke out the side of his mouth, "Suck my cock, Danny."
I was in heaven, nestled in the crotch of my king, licking his powerful balls and mighty cock, sucking his rod with utter devotion. He smelled of leather and tobacco, and the wool suit brushed against my bare body. I worked his cock into me, holding my breath, taking inch after inch until I'd reached the base. He held my head there for a moment, then let me come up for air, then guided me back down on him again. Over and over I took all of him in and out, on my hands and knees as he leaned back in his desk chair. I felt his legs tense, and I prepared for his come, but he pushed my head off and pulled out the head of his cock.
"Stand up, boy." I did.
"Turn around and put your hands on the desk." I did.
My Sir took the mounds of muscle that made up my meaty butt and spread them with his strong hands. His thumbs rubbed at my hole, sending waves of pleasure into me. "This load's going in your ass."
Mr. Konig stood up, his regal 6'2" height, boosted to 6'3" in boots, towering over my stout 5'10" stature. From behind me and opened a desk drawer. He pulled out a jar of lube and bottle of poppers. I could hear him open the jar and grease his cock. He opened the bottle and reached around, putting the rim to my nose, then blew a cloud of cigar smoke at the back of my head. He told me to inhale. I took a hit of the poppers and tobacco smoke and braced myself on the desk, preparing to be fucked.
For five years now I have been a slave to this man and his cock. The first time he fucked me, I cried twice: once tears of pain, and then tears of joy. No matter how many times since he has entered me, it still feels like the first time. I still have to prepare myself, both physically and mentally. He has one of the largest cocks I've ever taken. When he is fully erect, it stands straight and thick, a rigid ten inch masterpiece.
I could feel him squat down and put the head of his penis against my muscled ass. His bent legs wrapping around my thighs. The poppers hit me, and I arched my back, dreamy-headed and hungry for my Sir's cock. He held onto my hips and slid inside me. I moaned, feeling the huge meat working its way deep inside me. One inch. Two inches. Three inches. I clinched a bit and he said, "Relax boy, I'm going to fuck you deep." I exhaled and tried to submit to the onslaught. Four inches...five...six. I moaned louder. "Push back, boy." I leaned back. Seven inches...eight. "Almost there, Danny." I gripped the edge of his desk and told myself, "You are a sub. You are Mr. Konig's sub." Nine inches. My Sir's hands tightened on my hips, and I felt his balls press against me. "Good boy, Danny. That's my whore." My insides felt full, and I felt complete, whole, found. My Sir was all the way inside me.
He began to rhythmically slide his cock back and forth, taking it out about halfway, then driving it in to the hilt. I kept my eyes forward, and my tongue began to hang out as he began to open me. Quickening his pace, he straightened his thick, hairy legs, and I felt my ass being raised of the floor. His cock was like a steel hook hoisting me off the ground. He fucked me faster. My hands held the desktop, while my feet floated a couple inches off the ground. He gripped my pelvis with his manly hands and aggressively shoved my ass on and off his massive, rock-hard cock. Cigar ash fell on my naked back. My tongue was swinging in the air, and I panted like a dog on a hot summer day. Droplets of my drool rained on the desktop, along with thin, clear strings of my precum. The brass handles of the desk drawers clanked against the ebony wood, Bang! Bang Bang!
Suddenly Mr. Konig wrapped his arms around my waist, and in one swift and powerful move, spun me around, his cock deep inside me. My legs and arms were now loose, flopping in the air like the limbs of a rag doll. He stepped up the assault on my hole, each thrust driving his shaft against my prostate. As he chomped his cigar and nuzzled my neck, I began to have an anal orgasm.
"Auuuugh, fuuucckk! Yeeess Siiiiir!"
I saw a drizzle of my precum flung forward off my jock pouch, like honey slung from a dipper. Mr. Konig's necktie flopped over my shoulder as he bucked me up and down, the lit cigar glowed near my ear. I wrapped my ankles around him, keeping his cock locked in me, and he began to piston my hole so hard a stream of vibrating gibberish came from my throat, raspy and hoarse: "Uhh uhh uhh uhh uhh uhh uhh!'
The pouch of my jock, wet with precum, rubbed against my swollen cock, driving me wild. I was dangerously close to coming--something I needed permission to do. But before I could beg for release, I felt my Sir arch his back. I was held in the air like a wrestler about to be body slammed. Mr. Konig's cock erupted deep inside me. Cum gushed into me as he held me impaled on his cock. He shot about four times, and I could feel some of his load leaking out, dripping down from my fuckhole. Then he spasmed again. Then again. And again. When he'd finally finished breeding my hole, he set me down on the floor, on my knees, and told me to face him.
"Turn around, boy. There's cum on my shoes."
Instinctively, I lay down, my raw ass in the air, and began to tongue bathe his boots, lapping up the cum that had landed on the hard, shiny leather. My wet jock pouch smeared precum on the wood floor as I polished my Sir's boots. When they were shiny black again, he reached down and stuck two of his big fingers in my creamy hole. He pulled them out, then put them in my mouth. "Good boy, Danny," he said as I sucked the warm, salty jizz from his fingers.
Mr. Konig took a puff on his cigar then sat down in his big chair and told me to kneel. He looked at the travel bag on the smaller seat next to him. "I wanted to breed you today, Danny, because I won't see you again for a while."
This news struck me as a surprise. Mr. Konig hadn't told me of any travel plans on his part. Normally, when he had to go anywhere, it was only for a day or two, and I had extra chores to help him prepare. My mind began to race: Where was he going? For how long? I didn't dare speak. I just knelt on the floor, my hands behind my back. I could still feel most of his cum inside me, and the thought of having to wait for another load made me anxious; taking my Sir's cum was one of my sources of pride and pleasure. He'd trained me for that. I was his slave.
He drew on his cigar, then blew out a smoke ring. "I can see you have questions, boy. You may speak."
I looked at the man I'd worshipped for the last five years, a Tom of Finland drawing come to life, the perfect alpha male; Zeus in a tailored business suit and custom boots. One hand held his fat cigar, the other was cupped on his bulge. His legs were spread, the picture of masculine confidence.
"Where are you going, Sir?" I asked, a note of disappointment in my voice.
"I'm not going anywhere, boy." He said, tapping his cigar into a heavy brass ashtray on his desk. "You are."