On the Advice of Counsel
Chapter Three
By
MaineBoyXY
(for story list and FAQ, go to maineboyxy.freewebsitehosting.com)
I stood and walked to the desk, my eyes
locked on the jock strap laying on it. I reached down and picked
it up, finding it sodden with Andrew’s cum but not especially soggy;
his cum was so thick and viscous that it hadn’t soaked into the
material. I couldn’t believe that he was going to make me wear
this all day, leaving it to dry against my skin. I paused,
holding it in my hand, feeling my own cock bob and drool.
Suddenly, without any conscious intent, I raised the jock up to my
face, closed my eyes, and breathed in deeply. The scent of him,
concentrated into the rich essence of his sperm, shot through my
brain. Goosebumps erupted on my skin, and I felt the ripple
building in my balls as if I were going to cum.
Quickly I pulled the jock away from my face and tried to regain my
composure. I definitely couldn’t cum now! Christ, what was
wrong with me? I’d just sucked off an intern in my office,
humiliated and blackmailed, and not only was I hard as a rock, I was on
the verge of blowing my own load just from the smell of his! I
was trembling again. Nevertheless, I looked down at the
splooge-coated jock and raised it to my face again. Again I
breathed in deeply. The scent was heady, pure eros, and it nearly
made me dizzy, as though I’d been sniffing markers or rubber
cement. My mouth watered. I wanted to taste it, to rub it
over my face. I wanted to trace my fingers along his cooling
slime then feed it to myself greedily. I wanted to lick the pouch
clean, then stuff it into my mouth to chew on, to suck on, my saliva
mixing with his spunk.
“Holy shit,” I muttered to myself as I shook myself to consciousness
and again pulled the jock away. The pinnacle of lust waned and
conscious awareness returned. I had to wear it. If it
wasn’t dried to my crotch when we got to his place for the weekend,
there was no telling what the consequences would be. I bent over
and stepped into it, slowly pulling it up my legs, trying to keep the
cum from spilling or smearing on my legs. I stood, hesitant, the
pouch just below my nuts. I sighed and pulled them up, my balls
settling down into the goo and then forcing it up and smearing it over
my pubic region. The slime had cooled and two realizations hit me
like a truck: my package was now soaking in his cold spunk,
absorbing its smell and moisture; and, I liked it. I reached down
and tucked my hard on into the pouch and then squeezed my basket in my
hand, massaging it. My whole body tingled again. My nipples
were hard and it felt as though every pore was panting for breath.
I sat, in fact almost collapsed, into the chair. It was a good
thing I didn’t have any meetings today. Even without the aroma,
from which I was certain there would be no escape, I wasn’t in a frame
of mind for doing any work. Nevertheless, I had to try to put
things in order; someone might stop by the office. I rose, walked
bowlegged to my clothes, and put them on—except my suit. I left
the jacket and trousers hanging behind the door. I returned to my
seat, making sure the shirt tails didn’t rest on the jock. When I
wheeled under my desk, everything looked normal. No one could see
my bulging jock or my naked legs. They’d just smell the
cum. Fuck. I didn’t have an outside window and, even if I
had, on the 15th floor, it probably wouldn’t have opened. I
didn’t dare open the office door to let the smell dissipate; anyone who
walked by would notice and the open door would just invite guests, whom
I desperately wished to avoid. I made a mental note that, at some
point, I’d need to buy some air freshener for future crises like this
one.
For future…. I was already resigned to the inevitability of my
situation. I’d be blowing Andrew every morning. I was not
only beyond objecting to it, I was preparing for it! Was it just
resignation? Had I simply surrendered my resistance, or did I
actually want it? I couldn’t really want him to come in and make
me blow him off every morning, could I? I couldn’t deny the
erection in my jock, soaking up his cum and drooling its own pre.
I reached over and opened my brief case. Work would be futile,
but I could at least shuffle some papers around for appearance’s
sake. God help me, though, if anyone actually came in.
My door stayed shut until slightly after six. I’d buzzed Jessie,
telling her I was buried in a case and asking that she intercept anyone
headed for my office. I’d missed lunch and I was famished.
Jessie probably noticed, knowing my daily routine at the deli, but I
hoped that she just took at as evidence of how busy I really was.
Meanwhile, I’d been sitting in my office, idly perusing documents, my
mind full of images of Andrew’s cock and ways he would use it on
me. I hadn’t seen the rest of his body yet, but I had a detailed
mental picture and it, too, occupied my thoughts. In the
afternoon, after scratching at the itch of the dried cum crust in my
jock, I’d put the rest of my suit on, but I’d still been too anxious to
try to step out. Consequently, my stomach was empty and my
bladder was full; even if I’d dared leave the office and risk being
smelled, I couldn’t remove my cock from the jock to piss without
disturbing the cum crust that glued them together. Not that I’d
have been able to piss through the erection that persisted all day
long. So that’s how Andrew found me when he popped into the
office unannounced after he’d finished his work for the day.
The opening of the door startled me. In only two days, my office
had changed from the minor fiefdom of a lesser vassal to a
prison. My warden strolled in, casual and unaffected, pausing
only for a second to sniff at the air. “It doesn’t smell that bad
in here after all,” he said once he’d closed the door. “I was
done about fifteen minutes ago, but Jessie has been guarding your
office all day long. She sure does look after you. Maybe
she’s got the hots for you. If only she knew what we know,” he
smirked. “Anyway, I waited until she left just to make sure the
coast was clear, at least on this floor.” He’d crossed the floor
to my desk, standing next to me as I looked up at him blankly. He
reached out his hand and brushed the back of it over my cheek. I
felt my expression turn to one of pleading as he looked down at me,
smiling softly. His eyes were half closed as he turned his hand
and began stroking my lips with a single fingertip. I closed my
eyes and opened my mouth slightly, leaning back in the leather desk
chair.
“Yeah,” he murmured softly. He slipped his finger into my mouth
slowly, and I closed my lips around it, sucking gently. “Damn,
you must really be horned up. Did sitting in here soaking in my
cum put you in heat, bitch?” Eyes closed, I nodded as he slowly
fucked my mouth with his finger. “Well, fuck, I’d really been
looking forward to putting you in your place this weekend, Robbie boy,
but it looks like you’re already there. Mentally, anyway.”
He withdrew his finger and used it to wetly caress my lips.
“We’ll still do some stuff to get the physical part right. I
guess it’s easier for you if you’ve psyched yourself up, and I don’t
guess I care. I mean, I’m not going to do anything less than I’d
already planned, but maybe you’ll be more OK with it than I’d thought.
“Are you ready to head over to my place and start your training?” he
asked.
“Yes sir,” I answered. I’d been in my office for almost eleven
hours. Not only was cabin fever setting in, but my lust was out
of control. Simply seeing him again had triggered a new desire in
me. The constant stimuli of the feel of his cum, first wet then
dry, against my cock and nutsack, and the smell of it that I’d been
convinced—apparently without reason—still permeated my office and my
own body, had had my hormones churning in my blood stream all day
long. Coupled with the blowing him this morning and yesterday
afternoon, the adrenaline rush of doing it my office both times and
running to the courthouse in desperation to make the filing deadline
yesterday, and the fact I hadn’t jerked off since Wednesday morning,
had me more fucked up than I could remember.
“OK, Robbie boy, get up and come with me. You won’t need anything
except your car keys.” I followed him out of my office, through
the halls, down the elevator, and to my car in the parking garage; my
hard on led the way as I trailed after him like a puppy once
more. He went to the driver’s door and held out his hand.
Humiliated but knowing better than to protest, I handed him the keys
and went to the passenger door. “In the backseat,” he
ordered. The backseat of the convertible was small, but I climbed
in and sat submissively. He too got in and adjusted the seats for
his additional four inches of height.
“I want you to take off everything but the jock strap while we’re on
the way. Fold your clothes and hand them up to the passenger
seat,” he commanded.
He wanted me to ride in my own car naked! “Please,” I
began. My eyes met his in the rear view mirror as his narrowed.
“If you argue with me, bitch, I’ll make you ride back there with the
top down! Do you want that?”
“No sir!” I exclaimed.
“I didn’t think so. So get to it.” He started the engine
and backed out of the parking place.
It wasn’t a long drive to his townhouse, but it felt like it. It
was fairly large and in an upscale area, not far from my own condo in
fact. He pulled into the driveway, produced his own keys from the
pocket, and hit the remote for the garage door. It opened and we
pulled in as the door lowered into place behind us.
“My room mates are supposed to be at the beach this weekend,” he
explained. “If they’re not, that’ll just give you more dick to
fill your mouth and cunt, right?”
“Yes sir,” I replied. I obeyed his order to get out and we
entered what turned out to be the second of three floors through a door
off to one side of the garage. He led me on a brief tour, my
inferiority obvious as I wore nothing but my bulging jock and he wore
his suit. This ground floor housed the kitchen, dining area,
living room, half bath, coat closet, and foyer. Downstairs, where
I expected a full SM dungeon, was a utility area with the hot water
heater, washer, and dryer, and a room that appeared to double as a game
room and gym. Several pieces of weight training equipment stood
on one side and on the other were a pool table and an average sized
television with a few gaming systems connected to it. A ping-pong
table stood folded in another corner. Upstairs lay the
bedrooms—there were three—an office/study room, and a full bath.
He led me into the bedroom adjacent to the office. It was
obviously his room: it smelt faintly of him, an aroma I’d become
intimately familiar with all day long, and there were pictures of him
and presumably his friends along the dresser. His room, not
surprisingly, must have been the master bedroom because another full
bath opened off to one side.
The entire townhouse was immaculate and his room was no exception so I
concluded that it was either his or leased in his name, and that he
demanded cleanliness of his tenants. Nothing about him led me to
doubt that his demands were met. His room consisted of a dresser,
a walk-in closet, the master bath, a bed, a bookshelf, and a large,
plush armchair with ottoman. It was very respectably sized, with
matching furniture and color schemes. He turned to me and stood
an arm’s length away, looking down. He reached out with both
hands and grasped my nipples, squeezing and twisting them.
“Ow!” I cried instinctively, my hands moving up from my sides before I
sensibly stopped them and forced them back down. He smiled and
chuckled. He twisted harder, pulling them out from my
chest. I whined and writhed but offered no real resistance.
I turned my eyes to the floor and noticed his cock was at least half
hard.
“See, Robbie boy, I told you. You’re a natural. You
instinctively know better than to resist me.”
“Yes sir,” I whimpered. He continued working my tender nips,
twisting one way, then the other, holding them firmly out from my
chest. He rolled them between his fingertips, watching me
futilely shift my weight from side to side and arch my chest out to
him. My hands made fists at my sides.
“This isn’t anything compared to what you’re going to feel by the time
this weekend is over, cunt,” he said. That rich baritone with its
lazy but accurate enunciation seemed to reverberate. “And you’re
going to love it. When you go back to work on Monday, it’s going
to be all you can think about it, what I did to you this weekend.
What you begged to have done to you. What you did to yourself
just because I told you you had to do it to earn the right to suck me,
or feel my cock in your pussy. Yeah, Robbie, when this weekend is
over, you’re never going to be the same. You’re going to be
mine. Hell, you’re already mine, but not like you’re going to be
on Monday. I own you now, but by then, I’m going to own your
soul.”
“Yes sir,” I whimpered again, writhing as he abused my nipples.
“Good,” he smiled. “You agree. That’ll make things easier
for you. But not much. Now let’s get started. Go
ahead and undress me. Hang up my suit and tie in the closet, then
put everything else in the hamper in the bathroom. I like things
neat, and it’s going to be your job this weekend to keep things that
way. Among other things,” he added ominously. “Start with
my shoes.”
I knelt in front of him, the hardwood floor pressing into my
knees. I untied his oxfords and slipped them off of his
feet. I raised his trouser cuffs and removed his socks, pulling
them down off one calf, then the other. He watched me closely as
I rose, then I moved behind him and slipped his jacket off his
shoulders. I folded it neatly and laid it on the bed. I
returned in front of him and unbuttoned the waist of his trousers,
unzipping them as well. His erection was obvious as my hand moved
over his crotch. I slipped his braces over his shoulders, then
knelt again to slip his feet through the trouser legs. His silk
boxer shorts appeared in front of my face between his fluttering shirt
tails as I pulled the navy suit free. Just seeing the hard rod
jutting out from under his shirt, still covered in silk, made my mouth
water. He no doubt saw me as I swallowed hard in anticipation as
I rose.
I unbuttoned the braces from the trousers and moved to hang the suit on
a cedar hanger in his closet. I folded the braces and laid them
on the dresser. I picked up his shoes and looked questioningly at
him. “There’s a shoe stand in the closet floor, and two free shoe
trees. You can figure it out.” I looked in the floor and
there was the stand, one pair of shoe trees and one free place for the
black oxfords in my hand. I returned and untied his tie, slipping
it from under his collar. I hung it on the tie rack in the
closet. Slowly, I unbuttoned his shirt, starting at each barrel
cuff, then from the neck down. I lifted the shirt from his
shoulder and down his lean arms. I removed the collar stays and
placed them beside his braces, tossing the shirt into the floor with
his socks. I turned back and saw him standing there, wearing only
a white, crew t-shirt and his black boxer shorts. The contrast
between them, and the way they complimented the cream coloring of his
skin and the onyx of his hair and eyes, made my cock leap in my
jock. He noticed that too.
“Come on, cumdump, finish up. I’m hard and ready to start working
on you.” I took his the tail of his undershirt and raised it over
his head as he lifted his arms. Slowly, I revealed his smooth
chest. It was chiseled to perfection: strong abs, defined
pecs, impeccable shoulders. Watching him lower his arms was like
watching the gently rolling sea as each muscle and tendon contracted
and relaxed. It wasn’t that he was bulky or built; he was simply
so lean that there was nothing but skin stretched taut over muscle and
bone. He indulged me a moment as I stood in awe, staring, mouth
agape, at his torso, his shirt still balled in my hands. “Yeah,
you thought you were in shape. And you are, you’re fit, tight,
firm. But now you see why I’m the master and you’re the
fuckslave. I’m the real man, right?”
I nodded wordlessly. “Go ahead then,” he encouraged. “You
can kneel down and take out your other master.” I obeyed,
dropping to my knees, tossing the shirt aside, and reaching for his
boxers. As my fingers grasped the material, he reached and pulled
my face into his crotch. He buried my nose in his balls, working
my face from side to side in his groin. “Yeah, feel that?
Feel those balls and that hard cock? Smell that manscent,
bitch? Does it smell like you remember it? Does it smell
like that cum you’ve been soaking in all day?”
“Yes sir!” I mumbled between his legs.
“You know you’re gonna taste it again, right? You know you’re
gonna drink from it, feed from it, worship it, right? You know
you’re gonna feel it ram up that pussy and fill you with my baby juice,
right?”
“Yes sir!” I screamed, consumed with lust. I hadn’t been fucked
since my second year of law school. My ass was probably so tight,
it would be like my virginity had grown back. I’d fingered it a
few times, sure, but no dick had been inside it for a three years, and
certainly no dick as long and thick as Andrew’s. The thought of
him raping me both scared and aroused me. He took my hair and
pulled me away, throwing me away from him so that I sprawled back on
the floor. He hooked his thumbs under the waist band and shoved
them down. They slid freely down his lean, muscled legs and
puddled at his feet. His 8.5” cock pointed up acutely towards his
chest, his balls dangling low between his thighs. His nuts were
huge, the size of extra large chicken eggs. That explained the
copiousness and viscosity of his load. Completely subconsciously,
my hand moved to my crotch, still covered with my glued-on jock, and I
began to massage my package, my eyes locked on him.
“What the fuck are you doing!” he screamed down at me. His eyes
were on fire as he pounced upon me, straddling my thighs, seizing my
hands and raising them over my head. He pinned them with one hand
as the other clutched my balls. “I didn’t tell you to touch
yourself, you stupid fucking faggot!” he continued. He tightened
his grip on my nuts, squeezing hard, pulling them down away from my
body through the jock.
“Oh God!” I wailed, writhing under him. “I’m sorry, Sir, oh God,
I’m sorry! Please, master….” The pain in the pit of my gut
was agonizing as he twisted my full balls.
“Shut up! Shut up!” he yelled. “Stop wriggling around and
look at me!” I fought for self-control as I willed my body to
becalm. I opened my eyes and looked up at him, frowning angrily
down at me. “Do you submit to me? Do you accept me as your
master? Are you my fucking cuntslave?”
“Yes sir!” I shouted back at him. “You’re my master! I’m
nothing but your fucking cuntslave, Sir!”
He released my balls and hands as I lay panting beneath him.
“Don’t ever touch yourself without my permission again, or I’ll tie
them up and beat them until they swell up as big as mine, do you
understand, cuntslave?”
“Yes sir,” I moaned. I needed to wrap my hands around my sore
nuts and soothe them, but I dared not move, let alone touch my
crotch. He remained there, his eyes burning into mine, for
several silent minutes. My brain burned. I’d declared him
my master. I’d declared myself to be his cuntslave. He had
been squeezing my nuts, but that hadn’t been why. I hadn’t agreed
with him out of self-preservation. What was it? Had I
spoken the truth about myself before I’d even consciously acknowledged
it? Had he plumbed the depth of my soul to expose what lay there
at its base? Was that the underlying foundation to my
ambitiousness, my aggressiveness at work? A subconscious need to
be taken, to be humiliated, to be made into a slave? I stared up
at him, my eyes wide in fear, fear that I’d learned something of myself
in those seconds of reflection. He stared down at me, watching
me, almost watching my brain as it processed my new thoughts.
Slowly his frown faded and was replaced with a smirk.
“OK, then, cuntslave. I think we understand each other
now.” He rose and turned to the bed. “I’m a little musky
from the day at work. I need a bath, and you’re going to give it
to me.” He lay down on the bed, lying on his back, spreading his
limbs to the far corners of the queen-sized mattress. “Wash
me. Wash me with your fucking slave tongue, bitch boy. Wash
every fucking inch.”
I stood slowly, the pain from my balls still rippling through my
gut. I moved to the bed and knelt beside him, resting my weight
on my forearms and knees as I lowered my mouth, tongue outstretched, to
his sternum. I pressed my face close to him until my wet tongue
made contact. I smelled him again as I breathed deeply. I
licked. I washed. My cock throbbed. Other than fine
black hair on his limbs and the bush in his pits and around his cock,
he was smooth from the neck down. He tasted slightly salty, but
what was remarkable was the amount of heat his body generated.
After his sternum was coated in slobber, I made my way to each nipple
in turn, licking it carefully, then gently sucking it into my
mouth. I licked my way down his chest to his navel, but as I
began my descent towards his cock, he reached down with one hand and
pulled my head up again, burying it in his armpit. There wasn’t
much stench there, just a faint residue of deodorant. The
chemical tasted acrid on my tongue, though, and it began to dry
out. He held my head in place there for some time before he
switched hands and then pushed my face over to the other side.
When he was satisfied with that side, he shoved my head away.
“Get down there and do my feet now. Pay attention to my toes and
the soles. When I think you’re done, I’ll turn over. Then
you can start at my shoulders and work down to my ass. Be
prepared to spend a lot of time on my ass. And I want it clean
inside and out.” As I knelt at the foot of his bed and started
licking the bottom of his right foot, I thought about rimming
him. I’d never done it to anyone and the thought had never
appealed to me. How does a guy stick his tongue in another guy’s
ass? I continued licking his foot, passing my tongue between each
of his toes, then sucking the length of each toe into my mouth.
It wasn’t filthy, but I obviously knew where I was licking and there
was a definite footy, sweaty taste. After I repeated the process
on the left foot, he turned over and repositioned himself, face down,
in the center of the bed.
I started at his shoulders, as he’d ordered. His entire back was
hairless from where his scalp ended at his neck to the tops of his
thighs. I licked my way down to the small of his back, passing
smoothly from side to side as I went. Finally, I came to the
moment of truth. His hard buttocks were no real challenge; they
were really just two mounds as an extension of his back. There
was clearly a psychological effect of realizing I was literally kissing
his ass—if one could consider open-mouthed tonguing a kiss. But
it paled in comparison to the significance of the seminal act.
His back and ass, like the rest of his body, were firm and lean, the
skin tight over the muscle. The effect was that his buttocks were
already fairly spread, revealing a somewhat shallow crevice. I
placed a hand on each mound and pressed them gently apart, and I saw
his pristine hole. There was no sign that it had been invaded,
ever, by any object. Tentatively, I leaned down and, as my face
drew near, I coincidentally drew in a breath. The scent was
surprisingly void of any fecal odor, which I had dreaded. It
smelt musky, like his crotch and armpits. My mouth was
watering. Encouraged, I began in the patch of skin between his
crack and ball sack and took a long sweeping pass up between his
cheeks, right through the center of the valley. He moaned
approvingly, and it gave me new heart. I repeated the motion,
then turned my head slightly to each side to work my way up and out
over the crest of his ass flesh.
“Don’t forget the inside,” he reminded.
“No sir,” I reassured him. I bent down and pressed my tongue to
his entry. I paused only briefly, knowing that this was the
biggest mental barrier. I pressed my face deep into his crack and
I jutted my tongue out, sinking into him.
“Oh, fuck yeah, bitch! Fucking eat that ass!” he cried out as his
ass rose to meet me. The taste wasn’t what I expected. It
was moist, humid, smooth, there was a salty tang, a hint of bitterness,
but no discernibly fecal taste. I was awash with relief. In
fact, I think I was so happy not to have been grossed out that I began
to feast at his asshole, pistoning my tongue in and out, withdrawing it
completely only to plunge it back in. It occurred to me that I
was really fucking him with it. I opened my mouth wider and
wrapped my lips to form a seal and began to suck his ass as I licked
it, using my the tip of my tongue to trace spirals around his
sphincter, corkscrewing in and out. “Oh fuck! Oh
fuck!” he kept moaning rhythmically, until it became a Vedic
chant. His hips were in regular motion, rolling his ass under my
mouth, and I grabbed them with my hands to hold on. I loved the
sounds he was making, the obvious pleasure I was responsible for
inflicting on him. My cock was wild in the crusty jock I still
wore, throbbing and pulsing and drooling. My tongue was
nearly exhausted from its work elsewhere on his body, aching with
exertion from entering and reentering his tight hole, but I couldn’t
bring myself to stop. It’s not that I feared punishment for
stopping too soon; I was truly getting off simply on pleasuring
him. Was that a sign that I really was his bitch? Was
it just
a natural expression of lust?
My jaw began to ache and my tongue muscle burned. At last, the
bucking bronco threw me as he raised his hips and rolled over on his
side, pulling his ass away. His eyes seemed glazed as he looked
at me, his face flushed and glistening with perspiration. “Oh,
man, I almost shot my load! Damn, you eat good ass, Robbie!
You’re going to be doing that a lot!”
“Yes sir,” I replied. I found myself grinning inexplicably as I
reached up to wipe the slobber off my chin and cheeks with my
hand. He reached down to his cock and firmly squeezed the head,
massaging it. The whole rod looked bigger than I’d ever seen
before and it was covered root to head with slimy precum. He
closed his eyes for a few seconds, still squeezing his dick, regaining
control over this lust. When his breathing had returned to normal
and his cock had subsided a bit, he reopened his eyes and looked at me
calmly.
“I think we need to finish getting you ready. We’ve got a long
weekend ahead, and I’ve got a lot of loads to dump in your
holes.” With that he rolled and rose from the bed, making his way
towards the bathroom.