Date: Sat, 1 Jan 2005 15:42:07 -0800 (PST)
From: Master Terra D <masterterradil@yahoo.com>
Subject: Officer Sven, Chapter 4, authoritarian

	Officer Sven yelped as I shoved in the bottle and
started draining into his anus.
 	Officer Sven was getting an enema. He'd actually get
up to 3 enemas probably. This wasn't the best position
nor the best set up for enemas, but his resistance
would make it necessary.
 	I could tell he was enjoying it. His dick was rock
hard and whimpers and whines of ecstasy escaped his
lips.
 	The bottle did a slow drain into his ass. I reached
between his muscled thighs and started down-stroking
his dick.
	Foreplay is a lost art in sex.
	From kissing to milking to massage to nipple play and
more, most men just want to fuck. And 5 minutes later,
they're done. It's a total waste of sexual desire.
	Why drive across town to spend 5 minutes in bed? You
spend more time behind the wheel than in the bedroom.
	Don't misunderstand; I do quickies. But they're not
my first choice.
	Sven would be here for at least 2 hours. From his
position secured to the bench, he could view the porn
DVD I was playing, the St. Andrews crosses I had and
the sling.
	"So you enjoyed eating my dog's ass?" I asked the
naked policeman. I continued down-stroking his dick as
the bottle drained.
	"Yes, sir," he purred.
	"Liking that cop cock stroked?" I asked.
	"Yes, sir!" Pleasure came with that comment.
	"Like that bottle up yer shit hole?" I snarled.
	"Not really, sir," was the reply.
	I like honesty in a boy. Communication in these
situations is imperative. Boys who lie tend to get
hurt because they don't express pain and uncomfortable
situations until it's too late.
	The bottle finally emptied.
	I shoved a cork to seal Sven's hole.
	I continued stroking Sven's hard as steel 8.5 inch
dick. I rubbed a hand along his side until he humped
his chest up, giving me access to a nipple. I gently
rubbed it, bringing it to life and starting it toward
being firm. It was partially there.
	"I need to shit, man," Sven said. I ignored him and
keep my dual motions going.
	"Sir, I need to take a crap," he pleaded.
	I knew the pressure would be building, but he needed
to hold it a bit more.
	"Five more minutes, boy."
	"What!?!? I can't take 5 more minutes of this," he
bellowed.
	I gripped the nipple hard enough to get a squeal, and
his attention.
	"Six minutes, now, boy. Or, I can pop the cork, fuck
you and have you clean yer ass off my cock."
	He didn't take long to respond with a "yes, sir" and
be quite.
	The hard nipple received a clamp, and I turned my
attention to the other nipple; it was hard already,
but my touch was needed before it, too, would receive
a clamp.
	By the time the second nipple clamp went on, Sven's
cock was drooling precum and the time was ready for
the cork's removal.
	Unlike the bottle draining, Sven was not slow.
	The bench was made for this and did its job well. I
rubbed my hand under his stomach to encourage
completeness.
	When Sven was done, I inserted a second bottle.
	I continued stroking Sven's tool. It'd been erect for
at least 20 minutes now. I knew that had to be
probably painful for him.
	Once the bottle was empty, the cork went back.
	I lightly ran one finger over Sven's skin.
	From the tips of his toes, to his ears, to his buns,
to his finger tips, one to ten fingers lightly petted
his taught, muscled physique. I knew this sensation
would be electric, straining his ability to stay still
and control himself.
	Most men never experience what touch can do. They
think a smack on the ass during a nasty fuck, or the
tweak of a nipple while tied to a St. Andrews is
touch. They believe the sting of a leather cat o-nine
tails, or the wood impact of a paddle is touch.
	They are, but they are not the only touch.
	I pushed the time limit 5 minutes passed the first
enema, then allowed Sven release.
	I was pleased with the results, and decided a third
was not needed.
	I placed a bar stool in front of Sven's face, and
finally removed my trench coat, showing Sven my
leather hat, torso harness, wrist guards, and
jockstrap.
	"What do you want, boy?" I asked.
	His head hung, his eyes focusing on the wood grain of
my floors.
	"Look me in the eye, boy," I commanded. "What do you
want?"
	His eyes did lock on mine.
	I saw despair and confusion, a man strapped to a
bondage bench in my living room, who knew what he
wanted, but was afraid to verbalize it.
	"I still don't know, sir," he whispered. "I know I
love sex, and I want sex, but I..."
	His voice failed him. He looked into my eyes, hoping
to see an answer, but my eyes don't have answers, and
their darkness can chill the stoutest of men.
	"I don't want to be a fag, sir," Sven finally said.
"I'm not a fairy."
	I smacked Sven hard across his face.
	"Has anyone called you a `fag'? A `fairy'? You need
to get over labels, boy. You're dick is going to be
hard whether I call you a cocksucker, bitch or whore,"
I stated. I figured the last 2 terms secretly turned
Sven on, since he'd associate those terms with street
trash, and that was Sven's desire, to be treated like
a hooker that wasn't going to get paid. But Sven had
some severe hang-ups about the sex being with men.
	"You enjoy eating ass, boy," I said. It was a
statement, not made in anger, but as the fact that it
was. I was sure Sven had written off eating ass as
"straight" since he could eat a woman's ass, not
realizing that he'd have no desire to eat a woman's
ass.
	I bent over the bar stool before his face and pulled
the leather strap of my jock to one side, exposing my
ass to his face.
	I actually heard him slurp. I could barely contain my
excitement. Having my ass eaten is one of my biggest
pleasures. It's not just the extreme physical pleasure
that a tongue swabbing the anal region gives, but the
mental enjoyment of a man using the orifice he eats
with to pleasure an anus. The man eating ass must
submit to something that in "normal" society would be
considered more disgusting than butt-fucking. With
first-time gay men and men like Sven, who deny their
own true pleasures, this is an ultimate act of
submission.
	Oddly enough, when I eat a man's ass, the man I'm
eating usually thinks it's what makes him a "woman"
because in his mind, he equates it with a man eating
his pussy.
	Either way, I find it amusing because it's all
labels.
	I felt Sven's tongue contact my ass.
	He ate greedily.
	"Slow down and enjoy it, boy," I barked.
	At the speed he was going, he'd pass out from
exhaustion in mere minutes!
	He obeyed my command and actually tried to be a bit
creative about it, exploring my ring and hold, my
cheeks and the terrain of a man's ass. He tried
prodding, licking, lapping, prying and more
techniques, all of which I enjoyed. He was very into
this act.
	After about 15 minutes of it, I stood and felt Sven's
drool running down my legs.
	I could have laid there for hours, but this wasn't
about my pleasure. It was about Sven's true needs.
	"Bark," I ordered.
	Silence. I hadn't expected him to bark. Few men will
bark at this point.
	"Bark," I repeated.
	I moved the bar stool and put my dick in his face,
reaching under to find his nipple clamps and
tightening both, nearly simultaneously. He sucked in a
sharp breath.
	"Bark," I said, knowing he still wouldn't.
	"I can't do that," he cried, actual tears pooling in
the corners of his eyes, from his own denial and the
clamps on his nipples.
	Precum from my cock smeared across his forehead.
	"Then suck my cock," I instructed, smacking his face
with my turgid tool.
	I saw his eyes lock on the cock before his lips.
	I drool precum like some people drool while sleeping.
	More precum was on the floor from Sven's ass eating
than his own saliva.
	He tentatively lapped at the juice.
	"I thought you weren't a cocksucker, boy," I sneered.
Sven had rejected Marcus' cock a few days earlier
because of his problem with labels.
	Sven was a macho ex-marine. A muscled policeman who
stopped lesbians in their tracks. He was blonde, built
and buff.
	He was totally not my type.
	Sven's tongue stopped with my statement.
	"I'm not, sir," he stammered.
	"Lick my dick, boy," I commanded.
	He didn't move. I raised a hand and smacked down hard
on his ass cheeks.
	I repeated this motion with my barehand until my hand
stung from the use, but I pushed myself to get a
proper response from Sven.
	Finally, with tears welling in his sockets, a tongue
slipped forth and licked my dick.
	Only the precum-drooling head of my cock was within
his tongue's reach.
	He tasted the dick-juice, savoring its flavor, its
gel-like texture.
	He didn't spit it out, he didn't gag, he didn't do
anything but taste and feel.
	Then he had seconds and thirds and ...
	He literally moved his body in a way that made the
bench jump forward enough for him to get more of my
dick in his mouth.
	Once I was sure he was ready, I fed him more cock.
	"Breath through yer nose, boy," I suggested. I do
like to hear a boy gag, but this boy wouldn't be ready
for that. It wasn't what he needed anyway.
	He was working a lot of dick down his gullet, lapping
at its length, and once even tried slipping his tongue
in the piss slit.
	I warned against teeth, but it was more of an
afterthought as opposed to a warning.
	He wasn't a expert cocksucker, but he wasn't bad. He
made an effort, but I knew it was all so he could
taste more precum.
	At some point, I was sure the taste of my cock would
register in his mind as being the same taste he'd
sucked from Marcus' hole, and maybe it already had and
he was working his mouth to ooze the cream from my
balls.
	I can get sucked for hours, just like I can get eaten
for hours, so I lost track of time. Even an expert
cocksucker can only do so much, and we'd passed the
hour and a half mark when Sven's jaws just wouldn't do
it anymore.
	His jaw and neck were both exhausted.
	The time had come for Sven's breaking.
	I walked to the side of the bench, and started
petting his back. I glanced back and saw a puddle of
precum under his stiff rod. I leaned down, putting my
mouth to his ear.
	"I'm going to fuck you now, boy," I whispered. "Yer
dick says yer ready."
	"I thought you weren't interested," he smirked.
	Still resisting. Still unable to let go of his ego,
his preconceived ideas of normal and his misconceived
beliefs in sex.
	I leaned down further and released his arms, then
turned and released his legs.
	He stood, wobbly.
	"Move around and get ready," I said. "You can leave
now, unfulfilled, and never to return, or you can stay
and lose your virgin ass to my penis."
	He flexed his arms and legs, showing their power.
Sven could easily beat me to death, towering over me
with his 6'4", 220 pounds of muscle frame to my 5'9",
carbo gut, pale skinned build. He stood there,
militarily trained to kill in dozens of way, with a
dick hard enough to pierce an armored tank, powerful
enough to have almost any man or woman he wanted.
	"I'm not interested in you, Officer Sven. I'm going
to fuck you. If you want more after tonight, I will
use you until I can find another man to fuck you who
IS interested in you. But I'm not interested."
	He still had the look of someone who couldn't believe
the rejection he was hearing. I couldn't imagine a
woman who'd said no to him, if he'd asked.
	I'm sure many smart women had never let themselves be
put in the position of going home with the man that
made Neanderthals look like chess champions.
	"Bark," I said.
	A very timid and unconvincing "woof" left his throat,
barely audible and very soft.
	"Bedroom," I commanded.
	He didn't move, and I caught his eyes darting toward
the sling.
	I mentally rolled my eyes.
	The sling was a special pleasure, reserved for those
who were good and good at what they did.
	Sven was neither. He was a wanton puppy,
disrespectful and needing potty training.
	I could not believe he was interested in the sling.
	"Bedroom," I repeated and headed that direction.
	I looked in a mirror and saw Sven eyeing the sling,
St. Andrews and the porn's credits. Nipple clamps
clung to his pecs and his cock stood erect, shiny from
his own precum.
	He longed for the use to continue in that room, but
that wouldn't do.
	Sven would need to be broken in the setting he knew
well. The squeak of a bachelor's mattress where he'd
banged countless women, making them think another
night was possible while he knew a one-nighter was his
highest goal. Sven couldn't even conceive of a second
visit.
	Yet, this was his second visit to my house.
	He entered the room where before he'd eaten my dried
cum from a hairy football player's shitter less than a
week prior.
	His mind was obviously replaying the scene.
	"Butt muncher. Shit eater. Cocksucker. Fag. Homo," I
whispered out each word with each footfall of  Sven's
bare feet.
	Tears were visibly rolling down his cheeks. They were
just words, but for Sven, they resonated in a way he
did not like, but signified things he did enjoy.
	He stood at the foot of my bed. I sat there, his
large cock even with my eyes.
	I laid back.
	"Suck my cock, bitch!" I commanded.
	Sven fell to his knees and lapped at my rod, drooling
fiercely, knowing he belonged to a man that wasn't
interested in him.
	I would break Sven, mentally and physically. His mind
was shredding from my instruction and his ass would
split on cock spit-lubed cock.
	I had to admit, this was my favorite way to take a
virgin ass, my cock lubed with the virgin's spit,
their saliva easing the way for their loss.
	Sven dipped under my nuts, licking the area right
under them, then gentling taking each nut in his
mouth, then getting back on my dick.
	I grabbed his short cut hair and lifted his face off
my dick.
	"Stand and turn," I commanded.
	Sven did, and took the extra step of bending over.
	"Reach back and spread yer cheeks," I cooed.
 Sven did.
	"Squat on to my cock, boy," I said.
	He hesitated. He had to realize what he wanted at
this point. I wasn't asking for it verbally any more.
	Actions would speak louder than words. I wasn't going
to take Sven's virginity; he was going to take it
himself, on my dick lubed with his drool.
	I could hear sobs of revelation as he backed up and I
guided his ass to its goal.
	He squatted, and the muscled ring of his hole rested
on the tip of my dick.
	I reach around and smeared his cock head shiny with
his own precum, using it as lube to jack his cock.
	I used a technique I'd used before, although rarely.
I gave his cock pain and pulled his hips down on my
dick. His ass seated itself with just a couple of
inches inside.
	He gasped, sighed, cried, and murmured, all at the
same time, a sound not of innocence lost, for his was
long gone, but of sex understood. The sound filled the
bedroom for a brief second that lasted an eternity.
	He lowered himself on my masterful scepter, realizing
my command of his body and mind and as each atom of
cock skin slid in his in shitter, he submitted to me
more, and realized what he couldn't verbalize.
	Sven would be returning to the house.
	I knew this and had started a search for a top man
who was at least passingly interested in Sven.
	I could do Sven more, but the less, for me, the
better.
	When Sven felt my pubic hairs against his shaved
hole, he started doing squat thrusts, slow ones, on my
spit-lubed pisser.
	Sven's body blocked my view, but I knew Sven could
see himself in the mirror, a big man with another
man's dick sliding into his butt.
	I again lost track of time. Sven rode me for a while,
then I bent him over the foot of the bed and plowed
him, then laid him on his side on the bed and pumped
him.
	Other positions were done.
	When I was ready to cum, there were but 2 tasks left.
	"Bark," I commanded.
	"Woof! Woof!" he complied without hesitation.
	"Louder, boy," I commanded.
	Sven did.
	"Where do you want my cum, boy?" I asked.
	"Breed my bitch hole, sir!" he cried.
	"It's not a bitch hole. It's a man's ass. It's your
ass," I stated, thrusting in that tight, muscled hole.
"Where do you want my cum, boy?"
	"In my ass, sir," he begged.
	"In your officer ass, boy?" I pushed.
	"Yes, sir. In my ex-military, police shit hole, sir!"
He sounds like a cadet trying to please a drill
sergeant.
	"And if I want it down yer throat, boy?" I queried.
	"Please, sir," he loudly whimpered. "My ass, my
mouth. Where ever you want, sir."
	I pulled out.
	Sven was on his back and I sat on his abs, his mouth
unable to reach my dick.
	I shot. The first river of sperm arched from my
staff, clearing Sven's face, marking my headboard,
then lying down across Sven's left shoulder and chest.
The second shot snatched Sven's hairline, creaming his
face between his eyes, laying on his nose and across
his lips, lathering his neck.
	When I finished, Sven was creamed, and I'd managed to
avoid his eyes. His tongue was tentatively tasting my
cum.
	I dismounted his abs, and left the bed.
	"You can stay there as long as you need," I said,
tossing a towel into a hand lying limply beside his
body.
	His cock was still rock hard; it had not seen release
in more than 2 hours. "You may beat off, boy."
	I showered and went into the kitchen for a snack.
	I checked the clock. It was 3 a.m.
	I hadn't heard Sven leave, but it's hard to tell from
the shower. I usually have my boys tear down the
dungeon, but Sven couldn't. He had no idea where
anything went. And I wasn't sure he was still there.
	I walked to the bed room, and there he was. He'd
wiped himself off, but was still rock hard.
	"Thank you, sir," he said, sitting up as I stood in
the doorway.
	"Did you cum, officer?"
	"No, sir. But I am satisfied."
	I could see in his eyes that understanding was
starting.
	"Good, boy."
	"May I..." He voice trailed off.
	"Look me in the eye, boy," I commanded.
	"May I...may I stay the night, sir," he asked, but it
had the sound of desperation, the tone of a lost soul
seeking a foundation and denying the true answers.
	I seldom shove broken men out in the streets, and to
do so tonight would be a mistake. If he left now, he'd
find some woman.
	"You may stay, boy, but my house, my rules."
	"Yes, sir," he replied. "I'll sleep at the foot of
the bed."
	"No! That's the dog's bed. You'll sleep in the bed,
with me.
	"Get up and pull the covers back for me, boy," I
said.
	"Yes, sir," he obeyed, pulling back the covers and
letting me lay, adjusting to a comfortable position.
	"Get in, boy."
	Sven crawled beside me, first laying on his back.
	With my hands, I positioned him on his side, his ass
aligning with my hard cock, my head resting even with
his shoulder blades. A hand wrapped around his torso,
petting his 8-pack and working up to a nipple.
	Hm, clamp still there. This is going to hurt! I
removed it and quickly removed the other.
	He moaned in a mix of agony and pleasure.
	I pulled the covers over us both and sighed.
	He'd go in the morning and hopefully, I'd find
another man to use him before I'd have to worry about
a return visit.
	I also knew Marcus would be in early that morning.
	I needed some rest before Marcus arrived.
	I slipped my cock back up Sven's shitter and fell
asleep.

To be continued. But not under this title. Look for
Tails of Marcus in the future. But not the near
future.

Men and boys, thanks for your comments. If you send
something, remember to put something in the subject
line, or I think it's spam and delete it.
Master Terra D
masterterradil@yahoo.com