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THE XAVIER - PART EIGHT
Forcing myself into him with all the might of my powerful body; this is what I want. It was what he wanted too, no matter what damage it did to him inside. And I could see the pain on his face! As I pounded him harder and deeper and on and on, the agony of endurance blended into the wild pleasure to become a mix of mindlessness he made clear he never wanted to stop. "You never took a man's huge sex up your arse but this is so natural!" He grinned, as though receiving an award. It's a good job he was so fit; it gave him endurance. I loved the way his stomach tightened, revealing a full set of six when he flexed to support his legs above his head. His thighs spread wide to improve my access. I was all in. "Ugh uh uuuh uh ..." He did not touch himself except once to explore the small part of my shaft that was not buried into him. He let his fingertips smear the fluids and then sniffed them. Then he gripped his thighs once more to hold himself in a position I'd be able to penetrate completely. The sound of our juices squelched as I pistoned him mercilessly, like a mechanical process.
His balls had shrivelled to a purple walnut sack. I thought of his full bladder contributing to his discomfort. It was certainly interesting for me to feel.the pressure in his rectum. Each time I drove it in, his dick jumped as though being electrocuted. He was panting with exertion and the need to keep his body folded up, restricting his lungs, whilst I drove myself repeatedly into him.
It's not an overreaction to say that using a new hole, this way of using a new boi was stunning. The man who now raised his legs apart and trusted me to punch my cock into his stomach until my milk exploded from his rectum was as glass eyed as a trance, his hands sometimes on my waist sometimes on my chest, sometimes pushing me to slow it down, sometimes pulling me to fuck it harder and faster; he wasn't controlling, just devoted to the pleasure I would have from utilising his body as my own cum dump. I knew that this was my new owned hole and I felt extraordinary elation.
Through the driving pleasure of opening the sides of this new hole I could feel the tightness gripping me as the pressure rose - so held off, slowing it right down, and although I was desperate not to cum, I realised my orgasm was happening in spite of me; "Here it comes!"; and chucked up, giving him the whole load of it in several massive ejaculating spurts I could feel shoot up from between my buttocks, through the shaft and strike him inside, with wave upon wave of pleasure taking over in my head. "I want you I want you I want you," he said, gripping it with his sphincter like some kind of fist. Even after I had cum he did not want me to withdraw. "Don't leave," he said, as though it was some cruel abandonment. "Oh I'm not going to leave you," I said, knowing that I soon would.
As I withdrew he stroked the retreating flesh with his hands - a caress that said everything about his unsated arousal - and licked the cumassjuice from his fingers as though trying to consume every last ounce of what I had given him. I pulled him up, sat myself on the easy chair and let him sit on my lap, still excited, still erotically enthused. I flicked his erection. "Don't you want to go to the toilet?" I said, as a joke. "No Master." He stroked my chest and kissed my neck. "Do you want me to go to the toilet?" "No," I said, "not yet." Strange how compliant he had become. His arms were around my neck and he was kissing me adoringly. I was impressed. His body was clearly athletic enough to best me in a wrestling match, or at least put up a decent fight, but now in my arms, clinging to me like a pet, I was most concious of his weakness, because he had surrendered. And surrender is a beautiful thing. I kissed him and he responded by kissing me back passionately, moaning with desire and mauling my chest as though on the brink of ecstasy. When I said I needed a beer, he instantly jumped up and fetched one - there was a small fridge - opened it and decanted it into a.glass; unnecessary, but appreciated. I started to wonder what else I could get him up to. He walked the glass over carefully, apparently mindful that if he spilled any he might be punished, and placed it in my hand. It was fun watching him running around, his naked body pert and hard in the cool air, a small leakage of my cum still dribbling down his legs. "Have some more water," I said. I saw a flicker of doubt cross his face. "Do as I say." "I - I haven't been to the toilet, Master." "Don't answer back!" Now he walked to the tap and poured another pint glass which he started to drink in a number of small gulps. "You're not wine tasting," I said testily, "so knock it back." He paused. "Immediately boi!" He straightened his back and dropped the water into his neck. "And another!" He paused again, but did as he was told, then looked at me. "No," I said, you cannot go to the toilet. I want you to hold it in. It's good discipline." How long before his reluctance turned to disobedience, I wondered? But he was still hard. I think the pressure of water in his bladder might have been contributing to that. "Come here. Kneel down. Here. Rest your head on my knee." He did as he was told, looking at me with an expression of loyalty and patience. "Anything to say?" I said, brushing his hair from his face. "...No, Master." "Ok." I liked having a pet, but I didn't like the residue of resistance and reluctance I was getting from him. I didn't want those little looks he gave me when I asked him to do something a bit difficult, like drinking far more water than he needed or could contain, or like the strained expression from walking without relief for his bladder. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with that in itself - after all he must be in destress by now - but I could imagine these little agonies building up and forcing me to administer a whole load of damage just to reinforce his total obedience. I needed a failsafe, and I had one in readiness. I didn't tell him, but it was ready.
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END OF THE XAVIER - PART EIGHT