Date: Fri, 11 May 2001 02:33:36 -0700 (PDT) From: hugh questorius Subject: The Humiliator. Chapter 15 Chapter Fifteen Tongue Journey I knelt blindly beside the bed and reached out with my face to locate his body. That was my first surprise, for I encountered his chest higher above the bed than I expected - my first intimation of the sheer size of this man. Not that he was fat. Not at all. It was just that there was such a surprising depth to his chest from front to back. I moved up to find his face with my tongue and started licking his forhead. I worked from temple to temple, slowly and methodically, working down to his eyebrows, then over the brow ridge to plunge my tongue into his eye hollows and lick his eyelids. He seemed to like that, so I spent some time there before moving across his cheeks to probe his ear. Some men love having a wet tongue in their ear-holes, others can't stand it. From the little grunts of pleasure he gave, he clearly enjoyed it, so I was in no hurry to work my way across to his other ear, via his upper lip and nostrils. Maybe you find the thought of sticking your tongue up another man's nostrils utterly disgusting? And so it is, of course. That is really the point, but a well beaten slave is eager to demonstrate to his master just how servile he is and seeks out such opportunities to prove it. Being a sex-slave isn't nice, you know! From his second ear, I licked along his jaw line to his bristle-rough chin. There was the problem of his mouth, - to kiss or not to kiss. Personally I find it much too presumptuous for a mere slave to kiss his master on the mouth, so I just lightly traced my well wetted tongue across his upper lip and then his lower, feeling he would soon let me know if he wanted more. Getting no such signal, it was on down his throat to the hollow at the base and up the two sides of his neck to just below the ears. The next journey took me out via his collar bone to the mound of his shoulder and up onto his bicep, (he lay with his hands behind his neck.) There seemed to be an awful lot of bicep to cover. Could the muscle really be as big as it seemed to my blind exploration? Then it was down into the foetid hollow af his armpit. I jerked my head away in an automatic reaction to the sharp body-stink that attacked my nostrils, but he quickly grabbed my head with his other hand and screwed my face back into his armpit and literally rubbed my nose in it. He growled "I've gone three days without bathing, specially for your benefit - to give you something to go at. Now clean me up, Sweat Pig. You keep scouring away with your tongue till there's not a trace of muck sweat left to offend your dainty senses. Right?" I nodded, being unable to speak with my mouth clamped over his armpit. I don't know how long I laboured in that damp mine, but it seemed like forever, coming up every now and then to gulp air, then back down into the pit which seemed to swallow me whole into its odorous darkness. I took the long, sweat-slicked body hairs into my mouth and sucked them. I probed my tongue at the skin under them. I licked, and washed him with my saliva and sucked him clean, longing to escape but not daring to stop till he should give me permission. Finally he did so, but of course that was only the first! The whole horror had to be repeated in his other armpit. But to get there I had to travel across his chest. I climbed up out of the pit onto the high plain of his chest and set out across it, patiently licking every inch of the way as I went. I sent my hand out as an advance scout. It seemed to travel forever. I told myself this was an illusion, that my lack of sight and my nose-to-the-grindstone position was distorting my judgement - that no man could be that big. Nevertheless, I grazed contentedly over these vast-seeming high plains, making exploratory detours to discover the rocky outcrops of his nipples and spending considerable time there, winding my wet tongue round and round them and gnawing gently with my teeth. This seemed to please him for his whole body would give occasional spasm-jerks of pleasure. This pleasant interlude in the sunny uplands could not last forever and eventually I screwed up the courage to drop down into the gully of his other armpit. I spent what seemed like all of ten minutes of hard manual labour cleaning out that stinking hole before being let out to work on his ribs and flanks and belly, probing his navel with my diligent tongue. I was careful not to go lower than his navel, remembering his instructions to leave his crotch til last. So it was out onto the thigh - so big, so hard - it was like journeying along the ridge of a great chalk down. I skirted the hill fort of his knee, went briskly along the shin to reach the more responsive area of his foot. I licked his foot with patient devotion, and his toes, and between his toes, and took them into my mouth and sucked them. I lingered there before crossing to the other foot and repeating my ministrations before moving up, over the ankle and up the inside of his leg, rather than along the top this time. I licked the inside of his thigh with great tenderness, remembering how savagely he had flogged the same area of my own body. Not only licked it but kissed it and mouthed it, very slowly, with wet lips, up and up until I reached his loins and could wallow in the thrilling, warm, man-smell of his crotch. With gentle devotion, I licked his scrotum and sucked first one and then the other plum-big testicle right into my mouth, giving homage to his maleness. It was time for my party piece, my 'specialite de la maison'. I insinuated my nose under his bull-bag and, twisting my face sideways, scooped the whole lot onto my face and lay there quietly for a few moments, allowing him to savour the pleasure of cushioning his balls on my face. I have never known a master who did not get a special little frisson of satisfaction out of having his bollocks flopped across a slave's face and just letting them rest there. Then, arching my neck back and snuggling my face right into the secret place behind his balls, I licked him. Licked the underside of his scrotum. Licked the back of his scrotum. Probed my tongue deep into the crease behind his balls. Pleasured my master with my mouth in an act of quintissential servitude and felt him squirm with the satisfaction of it and the pride of ownership. Finally I emerged and worked my way slowly up the damp gully between balls and thigh into the steamy forest of pubic hair. I sought and found the very root of his penis above the scrotum and began to crawl up it on the final part of my long journey. I closed my mouth sideways over the shaft and bit very gently with my teeth, working my way along it like gnawing a corn cob till I reached the ridge of his knob. How I longed to negotiate that overhang and launch my tongue onto the glistening helm, but I denied myself that pleasure for the moment while I put in more work on his shaft. I worked back down its entire length with my tongue very wet, slithering over it like a slug on a column, leaving a trail of slime behind me. It pulsed and jerked in evidence of mounting excitement. Back up its length once more I went, this time licking up the trail of saliva slime I had laid on my way down. I worshipped the monstrous totem pole of his rampant maleness with humble devotion. But this time I went on up, closed my lips on the very tip of his hot cock, and slowly slid them down over that Kremlin dome, to engulf the entire head in my mouth while flickering my tongue over the oozey tip. God, but it felt enormous, bloating my cheeks with its gross hardness. I felt his body give those little jerks like electric shocks as the excitement built within him, to break in a great black wave of fuck-lust, for suddenly he sat up and shoved me aside. The time of body licking was over. The time of penetration was come.