Date: Thu, 14 Oct 2010 23:39:33 +0200 (CEST) From: trevormaytum Subject: Mirror Workout (cat: BDSM/cock slave/authoritarian/gay male MIRROR WORKOUT The First Humiliation Your cock feels big in my hand... young, firm and eager. I can feel it pulsing. The shiny pink head peeps through my fist, like a new born baby trying to get free of its mother's cunt. I kiss your ear and whisper: "Look at yourself. See my hand on your prick. How does it feel? Does it feel nice and dirty? Like we shouldn't be doing it?" You nod, looking in the mirror as I blatantly fondle you. I begin the slow stroking up and down of your shaft and continue kissing your neck, and then your shoulder, tasting the salt sweat that is gathering on your flesh. It is warm in the room, our bodies perspire. We can smell each other's animal odour. Our sexual tension is high. My free hand plays with your left nipple, my forefinger circling around it anti-clockwise, brushing it and bringing it erect quickly until it is as hard as an airgun pellet. Your smell is divine, potent and intoxicating. My own erection continues to slip up and down the crack of your slippery arse, slicked by a combination of pre-cum and saliva from the little arse-licking I gave you earlier. I don't attempt to penetrate you. Your desire to be taken, to be violated and stretched by man-cock is immense... a boy fucked by a man is how you see it, a father figure, a strict authoritarian and disciplinarian training you to love and respect the hallowed dick. It is what you want, but you will have to be patient. You know intuitively that only a man can possess you completely. A man uses his penis to physically possess another, whether it is possession of a woman or man. A woman cannot give you what a man can, and there's no need to elaborate on that. You know what I'm getting at. Your desire is to be filled with a living thing, eight and one half inches cock lodged to the hilt inside that most intimate and wondrous of holes. The feeling and significance of the act can never be matched by an artificial substitute. You are intelligent enough to know this. Your deflowering and degradation will be exquisite when it happens, but you must prove to me that you are worthy of it. Your arse wriggles deliciously, trying to tempt me, participating in the game of cat and mouse we play with each other, only it is you who is trying to capture the mouse, attempting to ensnare it with your muscular hunting ring. But I tease you, moving away, and then returning to once again slide up the humid cleft of your arse, that dark canyon between the white moons. You feel the knob of my prick poke maddeningly across your tight little fuck-hole on each of the upstrokes, but it is fleeting and ephemeral. It is there, and then it is gone, a subtle and delicious torture for both of us which cranks up our libido to fever pitch. Your body is beautifully put together, as if the work of a master craftsman - the builder of perfect bodies. You are smooth and hairless, slender of body and limb. You are that most rare and desired of creatures -- the feline male. I could cum purely from exterior friction of your flesh alone, my cock gliding over any part of your sweat-wet body would do it. My urge to soil you is overwhelming. I'd love to taint every virgin part of your flesh with my splashing sperm, massage it into your body like a soothing balm, letting it dry to a brittle crust before picking it off. I may at some time have to test your resolve, your willingness to serve me by urinating, or even defecating on you. There is pleasure in that too, as you will come to realise. But I also must be patient and take the steps one-by-one. You are blushing profusely and it is truly beautiful. I feel the heat from your face next to mine. Your scalp prickles with perspiration. I begin masturbating you in earnest. Watch me... see how easily I can make you cum. You have no willpower to fight against it. I feel your excitement mounting. This is so hot, having you under my control. Have you ever `enjoyed' the frustration and perverse pleasure to be had from a `spoiled orgasm'? Even if you have or haven't as yet... you are about to. I increase the tempo and my grip on your shaft. See how the pinky-purple head bloats and shines with hot blood. You feel the melting in you loins, the contraction in your thigh muscles. I have you on the edge, the very edge of orgasm. You are ready to spill the beans for me. How quickly you have reached this stage. You are too easy. I will make you wait for it. You must learn patience dear boy. And just as you think you are about to pour forth I slide my forefinger underneath the base of your cock and apply a little pressure to the duct. It is enough to interrupt the flow and prevent you coming. You must learn tolerance and patience and of course gratitude for when I finally allow you to cum. The frustration of unfulfilled release causes you some discomfort. I hold on to you, making you wait until the waves of lust subside. When I'm satisfied you are yourself again, I start over, bringing you on, taking you to the very edge once again before aborting your orgasm for a second time. This time the discomfort in your abdomen and the ache in your tortured cock are more acute. But it will be worth it, because what I am actually doing is stacking your orgasms, so that when you finally cum you will experience an intensity the like of which you have never known. I tease my own cock against your arse, making it squirm and wriggle like an eel between the slippery cheeks. You desire to be penetrated. But you will have to wait a while longer for that supreme pleasure. On the third time of asking I allow you to have your orgasm. It is as if your guts are turning inside-out. The sensation is like hot quicksilver running through your loins and bubbling like boiling lava up the tender shaft. I feel your body folding in half before me but I hold you upright forcing you to witness the fruit of your humbling. Your cum spurts forth in copious amounts and with such force that the jetting sperm explodes like white paint balls against the mirror face. The splats are audible. Your creamy goo begins to dribble down the glass like the white of an undercooked egg. "You filthy little slut," I say, laughing cruelly. "You are too easy, Daniel. You must perform a forfeit in penance for your lack of self-control before your master. You will kneel and lick the mirror clean and afterwards you will describe to me the taste of your cum in delicious detail. Do I make myself clear, you little trollop?" I'm waiting for your answer cock-slave...