Date: Fri, 5 Nov 2021 00:10:34 +0000 (UTC) From: John Pearce Subject: Erotic Domination-6 I'm sorry, I know it's taken far too long for this to appear. The emergence of coronavirus and lockdowns plus some other issues that arose meant that I abandoned the story for well over a year, but I've slowly got drawn back into it. This chapter is a short one, and serves as a link between two much longer ones. It carries straight on from chapter five. Chapter seven is pretty much all done now so it will not be long for that to arrive. Thanks to Nifty. Please contribute so that we can all continue to enjoy this great archive of stories. CHAPTER SIX – SERVING MASTER GORDON – Part Two When I left Sir's flat that night it was with Master Gordon's command that I should report to him there again in four days time still echoing in my ears. Four days to wonder what more he would require of me. Four days with my cock now locked up and completely out of reach. The moments of tranquillity after his orgasm had not lasted long. All too soon he stirred and pushed me back onto my knees facing him. He then told me to do the same things that I was used to doing with Sir, that was to go to the bathroom, remove and clean the buttplug and then go and wait for him by the front door. But as I began to get up to do so, he held his hand up, palm facing towards me. "Stop!" His voice was loud and commanding. "What on earth do you think you're doing?" I froze instantly. He paused for a moment, then spoke again. "Look at me!" I raised my eyes to meet his. By the tone of his voice I expected him to look annoyed, but he was simply gazing steadily at me. "You are here to be taught the correct behaviour for a submissive when serving a Master other that its own. The submissive's natural place in the presence of any Master is to be on its knees, so you will only stand upright when told to do so. Do you understand?" "Yes, Sir." "That means that when you are told to move, it will be on hands and knees unless told otherwise. Do you understand that too?" He gave my thigh a sharp slap with the crop. I winced as he struck me. "Yes, Sir," I said hastily, still anxious to please. He then told me that I was permitted to stand to clean the plug while in the bathroom, but that I would come and go on my knees. I dropped back down onto my hands and turned obediently towards the door, my backside now facing towards him. I shivered slightly as he leant forward to pass his hand over my buttocks, stroking them before delivering a couple of sharp smacks to each cheek. "Don't dawdle now. Be off with you." And so I moved off. As I made my ungainly way across the hall to the bathroom, my arse still stinging slightly from his hand, I could not help but wonder why I didn't feel humiliated. Here I was, a completely free agent, crawling around naked, willingly obeying the orders of a man I hardly knew who had just recently locked my genitals in a metal chastity device and who referred to me as a girl. Surely I should feel at least some embarrassment and humiliation at giving up any semblance of masculinity so easily of my own free will? But I felt no sense of shame at all, any masculinity I had was easily shed. If anything, what I felt was more akin to a sense of deep pleasure than any debasement. I felt pleased that despite being very much in awe of him, as far as I could tell it seemed that I was pleasing him, and proud that he'd chosen to feed me his seed, the taste of which still lingered in my throat. Once in the bathroom I stood up to remove the buttplug, then washed and dried it, doing something I was familiar with for the first time in the entire evening. Then without any thought or concern I dropped back down on my hands and knees to crawl back out into the hall. The hall was quite long, and as I made my way I could feel the weight of the chastity device pulling down slightly on my cock and balls as it swung between my legs, brushing against my inner thighs. I had to crawl with my knees more widely spread than I naturally would to accommodate the cage. The feeling was quite sexy, as if an invisible hand had hold of them and was tugging gently at them with every movement. When I reached the door I turned round and knelt upright with my knees spread wide, my hands resting on my knees, waiting for him. And so I waited. And waited. Time passed with no sound. I began to start to want to fidget, but then I remembered the mantra he'd told me. Head bowed, eyes down, don't speak, don't think. I repeated it slowly to myself, all the while looking down at my cock, my ex-cock as it now seemed destined to be, hanging there between my legs in its new metal casing. I wondered again why I had no urge to rebel at what was happening, but the repetition of the mantra drove all other thought away. I was aware of feeling extremely turned on, but I both knew and accepted that release would only come when these men who were now my Masters decided that it should. I was being trained to live in a perpetually horny state, and when I was horny the one thing I really wanted was to suck cock. They certainly knew what they were doing with me, Sir and Master Gordon. And I welcomed it. Then all of a sudden a door opened and my heart jumped a little. Things you've waited some time for are always unexpected when they finally happen. I held my breath at his approach, suddenly nervous again. I heard his footsteps as he approached, then saw his feet and could see that he'd now changed back into his everyday clothes, though he still carried the crop. He stopped just in front of me. "I have some further instructions for you before you go, things that you need to bear in mind for the benefit of your training." He reached forward to tap the crop against the metal shroud between my legs. "Firstly, you should not think of this as being any kind of an imposition. It is just a necessary step in your transition to becoming a properly trained submissive. I'm sure you have always seen the contents of this cage as your personal cock and balls, your own sexual organs and the visible sign of your manhood. You will have rubbed and stroked them endlessly with your own hand for years, bringing yourself to fruitless orgasm after orgasm, all the while imagining it to be an expression of your masculinity. The expression of your male seed, as I imagine you thought of it then. But at a deeper level it was all an attempt to convince yourself that sexually you were a man. And all the while you knew that you weren't really a proper man at all didn't you? Deep down you always knew. That is how it's always been for you isn't it?" He paused for a moment. I held my tongue, not knowing if the question was rhetorical. But then he smacked my inner thigh briskly with the crop making me wince. "Answer me!" His tone was sharp and demanding. "Yes Sir," I muttered crestfallen. "Speak up," he ordered. "Say it out loud "I have always known that I wasn't really a proper man, Sir." I flushed deeply at having to say it aloud. He paused again, still tapping slowly at the cage with the end of the crop, then spoke again. "So tell me now, who do these worthless organs belong to?" "They belong to my Master, Sir." "Indeed they do. And having them locked away out of your reach like this will serve to constantly remind you that you have surrendered any right to call them yours. The contents of this cage may be part of your body but over time your Master's control of them has increased to such an extent that they no longer belong to you in any way at all. They have become his property and as such you will never touch them again without his permission. "As you know, your Master has always trusted that you obeyed his instructions correctly and did not satisfy yourself in private. This metal shroud now serves to make that obedience a certainty. So if you have indeed been honest with him, then its application will cause you no inconvenience. "But there is also a positive benefit for you in all this. A woman's clitoris spends its life sheathed away from contact, receiving direct stimulation only when it's required for her climax. That maintains its extreme sensitivity. But because you have been circumcised your little girl clit has always been exposed. It has constantly rubbed against its surroundings, underwear, trousers, bedding and such, and that has caused its tender skin to thicken and become less sensitive. Your Master tells me you used to play the guitar, is that so?" I was taken aback by this sudden swerve in direction, so paused slightly before replying. "Yes, Sir." "And what happened to the tips of your fingers as you learned to play?" "They hardened, Sir." And what happened to those tips when you stopped playing?" "They softened up again Sir" "Exactly. And so it will be with your little clit. Shut away in seclusion in this metal case it will exist in the same shrouded conditions as that of a female. It will cease to receive any stimulation from its surroundings and so over time its skin will soften again and become equally as sensitive as hers. And that will mean that if at any time a Master may deign to manipulate it, your pleasure will be more exquisite and overwhelming than ever before. So that is something for you to look forward to." "I have put my telephone number on a card with your clothing. Should this cage cause you any serious irritation you are to call me. But I do mean serious irritation, a skin rash for example. If your complaint turns out to be just some vague discomfort at having to wear it then you will surely be punished." He went on to tell me that in future he didn't want to see me clothed at any time. That as a submissive I should always be naked in the presence of a Master unless told otherwise. It would demonstrate my acceptance of my inferior sexual status. He followed that up with detailed instructions for me to follow the next time I was to report to him. "Drop your head." I did so and he reached down, removed the collar, replaced its padlock and dropped the collar on the floor in front of me. "Remain as you are until I am out of your sight. Then you may get dressed and leave." With that he turned and walked away up the hall leaving me kneeling there naked, head bowed obediently. _______________________________________________________ As the next three days before I was due to see Master Gordon again slowly passed you may well think that uppermost in my mind would be the fact that my genitals were now securely locked away beyond my reach in their metal case rather than in the much softer removable sheath that Sir had had me wear almost from the day we met, But it was not like that. Instead I hardly noticed the metal that surrounded them, my mind was elsewhere, filled with a strong sense of accomplishment mixed with relief. Up to the point that Sir had begun to weave his web around me, my sexual experience had been one hundred percent vanilla heterosexual. My submission to him had brought to mind three unknown things that he would most likely require of me, things that worried me because I had no experience of them and had no idea as to how I would react to them. Things that I'd been taught were wrong for men to take pleasure in, shameful things. All the same they were things that had crossed my mind in my earlier fantasies of being dominated. But because I would invariably be masturbating as I succumbed to these thoughts of submission my fantasies rarely went very far. I only had to fantasise about the lead up to where those things might happen and I would come very quickly. So I had been able to firmly push all such thoughts away under an 'I don't want to think about that thank you very much' mindset. The first one, as I thought of it back then, was that any dominant would be very likely to want to come in my mouth and expect me to swallow it. Would I hate the taste of it? Would I like it? Would it disgust me? Would I need to spit out out? I had no way of knowing. As it turned out, by the time I got to that stage with Sir my view of a man's come, which I had previously thought of as rather yukky, had transformed itself in my mind into Male Seed, and had become an almost mystical symbol of true masculinity, something to be desired and a gift to be given. The essence of the superior man that surely every submissive would desire to absorb into their body. By then Sir had come on my face many times and I had welcomed it, and already had a taste of it from occasions when I'd licked my lips as it lay on my face. Swallowing it all, taking something of him into my body had become a need I wanted him to fulfil. Indeed, by then my entire being was positively begging for it, and the sense of exultation I felt when it finally happened was the same feeling that I now had once more. The second thing was the knowledge that a Master might well want to go further, to go from my mouth into my throat. To be able to bury his manhood in me down to the root. I'd read about the gag reflex, even heard that it could possibly cause me to throw up. But again, by then there was an additional factor involved, my perceptions of it had changed. My desire to please this dominant man had continued to develop as time went on, and so my fear was now more that I would disappoint him if I reacted badly to it, rather than fear of the event itself. And so the fact that I had taken all of Master Gordon's manhood of my own volition, with no force on his part, only suggestion, gave me great satisfaction. I had done it. Such was my overwhelming desire to please that by the time it came to it, as with the swallowing of seed, I desperately wanted to have taken a cock as far as it would go. Knowing that it would give him pleasure made my submissive instincts swell to such an extent that it was inevitable that I should give my all to trying to achieve it. I felt it was something that a submissive should feel it was his duty to do for his Master, so the fact that I had now actually accomplished it filled me with relief. Now only the third fear still lingered. Anal sex. The transition from being the one who fucked to the one who would be fucked. I had always shied away from the thought of it, only ever imagining it as something that would involve pain, and most probably a great deal of it. But now, as I had come to realise that my arse could also bring me pleasure from the buttplugs and fingers that had already explored it, a small kernel of desire to be fully penetrated there had begun to grow, just as it had with my other fears. And this desire was increasing, lurking down there somewhere, giving me an itch that needed scratching. But still it frightened me. Master Gordon had made it evident that it was on the agenda, his references to my arse as my pussy could not have made it more plain. But when? How to prepare? What to do? Could I take it? Would I scream out loud in pain? For the moment thankfully that door could remain firmly closed in my mind. I would deal with it when it happened. _______________________________________________________ "Three forty five," was how Master Gordon had begun his instructions. "Ring the doorbell at three forty five." And so I did, full of pent up energy and desire and nervousness. I recalled his next direction. "Ring the bell. Wait until the door is unlatched." I looked at my watch. 3.43. I waited. 3.45. I rang the bell. Nothing happened for what seemed some time, but then there was a clicking sound and the door moved back an inch and stayed there. "Count slowly to fifty, then enter." He'd rehearsed this with me back at Sir's flat, I knew what he meant by counting slowly. 'One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . .' The numbers ticked off slowly in my head. It all served to increase the build up of tension and apprehension I was feeling. I didn't fear Master Gordon as I had on my last visit, I had seen enough of him to be able to begin to trust in him as Sir had instructed me. It wasn't fear of him that caused the fluttering in my belly, it was the prospect that soon the aura of his overwhelming power would wash around me again, sweeping me up to a state in which I had no defence, no resistance, where I could do nothing but blindly obey. 'Forty eight . . . forty nine . . .fifty.' "Open the door, step in and close it behind you," he had said. It was as if he was standing beside me, repeating the instructions he had given me. I pushed the door open, the empty hall stretching away in front of me. It was a strange feeling as I'd never entered Sir's flat on my own before. My stomach was churning, my limbs felt shaky. I took only one brief glance up the hall before I instinctively lowered my eyes. Such was his power that it was as if he was already standing there watching me. I felt compelled to act in the way he had instructed me, and had a strong feeling that if I didn't he would somehow automatically know it in some unseen way. His presence was palpable even in his absence as I recalled his next words. "Strip. Fold your clothes and put them on the chair." As always the sense of submission increased as the clothes came off, by the time I was naked it was complete and once again I felt totally vulnerable and defenceless. My fingers fumbled and shook as I struggled to fold my clothes. Then I automatically followed the rest of his instructions. I took my collar out of its bag, put the bag on top of my clothes then knelt on the floor facing up the hallway. I put the collar on the floor in front of me between my knees. He had been very specific about the collar. It had to have the gold inscription facing me, but upside down as I saw it so that its inscription would be the right way up when it was put on. I picked up the leather loop at the end of its chain, opened my mouth and took it between my teeth to hold it there. All that was left to do was to assume the position that he had instructed me was the 'Rest Position' for a submissive. My knees spread wide, my back straight, my head bowed. My hands on my knees, palms up, fingers outstretched in the manner of a supplicant. And then to wait patiently for his arrival. Head bowed, eyes down, don't speak, don't think. When I managed to actually stop thinking, the sense of myself as a separate person receded and all that was left was a vibrant bundle of nerves and expectation mixed with the daunting prospect of being once again in his presence and subject to his power. Head bowed, eyes down, don't speak, don't think. But then the sound of a door opening shattered my temporary calm and I was once again back in my real body kneeling on a real floor waiting for a real master. The reality was sudden and undeniable. Adrenaline surged through my body and my skin tingled as I heard him approach. I dared not move. He wore the leather chaps that so excited me, the very sight of them causing the irresistible sensation of mingled desire and surrender to awaken once again in my belly. His penis, though not yet erect, was already swollen and swung gently from side to side as he moved. I felt again the frisson of fear at the now familiar sight of the riding crop that dangled from his wrist. Fortunately I came to my senses with just enough time to remember that I still had one last command to obey. As soon as he stopped I reached down to pick up the collar in both hands, one on each side as he had instructed, to lift it up in front of me and offer it to him. A suitable gesture of my willingness to submit, he had said. "Stay still," came the command. He reached forward to unlock the padlock that fastened the collar and remove it before unbuckling the straps and taking hold of the ends. "Let go, hands back down." I obeyed, leaving the collar in his grasp as I dropped my arms down to rest my hands back on my knees. He passed the open collar down under my chin and up to wrap it round my neck. I felt his fingers working as he refastened its straps, pulling it tight. He leant forward as he buckled it up, his penis now hanging barely an inch in front of my nose, dangling there tantalisingly just out of reach. Had I not still held the end of the leash between my teeth I would not have been able to resist putting out my tongue to lick at it. As it was I felt myself begin to salivate at the prospect even before he finished and stepped back a little way from me. He reached forward and took hold of the leash at either side of my mouth. "Open." As I did so he took it away from my mouth, the bit between his hands wet with my saliva. Just as he had done the last time he moved it up and wiped it dry on my hair before slipping it over his wrist. "Down on hands and knees," I dropped obediently into place as he turned away from me. "Follow," he said, and moved away up the hall towing me behind him. He had my chain on a short leash and I scrabbled to keep up with him. When he got to the end of the hall he didn't turn to the left to lead me into the lounge as I had expected but instead turned right into the bathroom. He took a few paces into the room then he spun on his heel to face me. "Stop," he said. "Up on your feet now, hands behind your back." I rose to my feet to stand in front of him, clasping my hands behind me. There was silence for a few moments. I dared not look up, but suddenly felt anxious, wondering what he was waiting for. Then the crop in his hand flicked out and landed a stinging blow on my inner thigh. "Spread your legs properly," he ordered sternly. "Have you learned nothing yet?" Embarrassed by my failure I shuffled my feet apart until my legs were spread wide. He reached down to take hold of the little padlock on my cage, his other hand holding the key which he used to unlock it. He took it off and dropped it into a pocket in his leathers as his other hand supported the cage. The sheath slid off of its own accord and the cage dropped away from my balls. It was both a shock and a relief to see my penis again. A shock because never before in my life had I gone three days without seeing or touching it. A relief because there it was, unharmed and looking just as I remembered it. It was a little puffed up but by no means erect. Even as I was thinking he was moving inexorably on. He drew up a footstool and placed it between my legs before fetching a plastic washing up bowl half full of water and putting it onto the stool so it was a few inches below my genitals. "Clits need to be kept clean," he murmured before lifting my penis on one palm to tip water over it with a cup. The water was tepid, neither hot nor cold. He squirted some liquid soap onto the head then closed both hands around my penis and began to work the soap over it. After three days of isolation the sensation as he rubbed at it soon drew a groan from my lips. Every touch seemed magnified. One hand wrapped around the shaft pulling the skin back to make my cockhead stand out as the other hand wrapped round the head itself to work the soap all over it. His first finger and thumb formed a circle around the head, squeezing it tightly as his hand moved slowly back and forwards over it in a motion that was now becoming more erotic and tantalising than actual cleansing. I felt my cock begin to rise inexorably as its shaft began to fill out. He was standing facing me, close up, his head almost alongside mine as we both looked down, his hand now openly teasing me to full erection. When he spoke again his voice came close in my ear. "Now then," he said, "let's see what you've learned so far. Tell me, what is this called now?" I was about to say 'it's my clit' but remembered how he had spanked me the last time for saying it was mine rather than my Masters. But who was my Master now, now that he had full control and was handling me so intimately? I felt confused, but had enough sense left to drop the word 'my'. "It's a clit, Sir," I mumbled finally. "Indeed it is, and at least you've learned enough to not claim ownership of it this time. That's good. But you must learn to call it by its proper name. Your Masters may refer to it as your clit, indeed your Masters may call it anything they wish as you will find out, but whenever you are required to speak of it out loud you will use its full name. Clit...or...is." He pronounced the three syllables separately. "Clit is a simple easy word to say, it can slip it out without you having to give any thought as to its meaning. But having to say the full word, clit-or-is, out loud will help to keep you aware of what it is that you are saying means. All new submissives need to be trained to see their bodies as female, and part of that is done by teaching them to use feminine terms for the appropriate parts of the body. So tell me again, what is this called now?" "A clitoris, Sir." He was right, having to say it in full added a kind of weight to it, and once again I felt that strange hidden pleasure stir within me at the sound of it. His next two words reinforced that pleasure. "Good girl," he said, and then added "Make sure you remember in future." The sensation at what I still thought of as my cockhead was now so intense that I felt my legs began to tremble, my breath had quickened and I could not suppress a low groan. When his hands finally released me my cock was left standing out fully erect in front of me. He put one hand back underneath it, taking up a jug to pour water slowly over it using his hand to rinse off the soap. This water was ice cold, and drew a sharp intake of breath from my lips as he continued to let it flow repeatedly over my member. After two jugfuls my burgeoning erection had subsided rapidly leaving my penis deflated, even shrivelled. Away went the bowl and stool as he took up a towel and dried me thoroughly but firmly, avoiding as much stimulation as he could as he did it. He took away the towel and when his hands returned he was holding the metal sheath and the cage for my balls. I could see at once that the sheath was different, a more compact one. Shorter in length, but not by so much, and with a visibly smaller diameter. "This one will better serve our purposes," he said as he slid it up to cover me, locking it back in place together with the cage around my balls. Perversely, although it was smaller and looked more restrictive, this one was more appealing to me as it was formed to resemble a penis. The tube curved down slightly and swelled out at the tip, rounded off to form the shape of a cockhead. But whether this was to mock the fact that I had now been deprived of my actual penis, or to give extra isolation to the clitoris it now contained I couldn't tell. But as was becoming normal with Master Gordon I hardly had time to have the thought before he moved events on. "Hands and knees!" he ordered, taking hold of the loop at the end of my chain. I dropped obediently back down to the floor again. He moved towards the door, tugging firmly at my chain. "Follow," he said, and I did. I followed him across the hall and into the lounge as once again that strong sensation of the animal and its trainer rose up in my mind. It had come each time I was led on a lead, and now I was on all fours the feeling was amplified considerably. I could only see the floor and his heels as he walked. I welcomed this feeling, it aroused all my senses in some mysterious and seductive way. In the lounge the blinds were down so the room was quite dim. A solitary lamp cast a pool of light around the front of the settee. It gave the same ambience to the room as there had been the other night. It drew my imagination back to what had happened there, and aroused the same intense feeling of the desire to serve that I had had that night. He led me across the room and pulled me to a stop just in front of the settee, then stepped around me to sit himself down on it. He was right in front of me now, not sprawled back and relaxed in the way that he had begun the other night, but with his body upright on the edge of the seat, knees spread, in the position he had taken before when it was time for me to take his cock. One hand was lazily stroking his penis, the other resting on his knee, the loop on my chain still around the wrist, the chain forming a physical manifestation of his authority as it dangled in a loop between us. My eyes were now level with his cock, only a foot or so away from me, so close I could almost feel its heat. While his hand still worked gently up and down its shaft, his other hand left his knee and came up round to the back of my head to gather up my hair and grip it. "Forward a bit," I heard him say and the hand that gripped my hair tilted my head up a little and pulled me forward as my hands and knees followed until the tip of his penis was but an inch from my mouth. "Open your mouth." I obeyed, dropping my jaw. "Wider," he said. "As wide as it will go." I strained it as wide open as I could. "That's better. Now put out your tongue." Again I obeyed, pushing my tongue out over my lower lip. "Now stay still, don't move." And there I stayed, leaning expectantly forward, mouth gaping open almost touching his cockhead as his hand continued to stroke casually up and down the shaft of his penis, holding it with its head right in front of my mouth. My mouth felt cavernous and empty, longing for him to fill it. I felt saliva beginning to gather around my tongue threatening to drip from the front of my mouth, yet I did not dare to move a muscle. Using the hand on his shaft to tilt his cock down he began to rub the underside of his cockhead from side to side on my tongue in a slow and sensuous movement to left and right. I had to strain to follow his orders and keep my tongue motionless when its innate desire was to lick back at the warmth of his flesh. The pressure on my tongue made the saliva flow more freely, and I felt it begin to run down over the end of my tongue onto my chin. He moved his cock down and around underneath my tongue to gather up some saliva before spreading it up and around my lips, coating them with its viscous liquid, then dropping his cock down onto my tongue again, this time using the hand in my hair to rock my head back and forth so his cockhead began a sensuous in and out movement, almost but not quite entering my mouth. The feeling of being used purely as an object for his pleasure tantalised and entranced me, but restraining any movement on my part was rapidly becoming more and more difficult. He used his cockhead to gather more of the saliva that coated my chin and rub its sticky wetness around until the lower half of my face was coated with it. His cock continued to swell and stiffen as he once again rubbed its sensitive underside back and forth on my tongue, teasing my desire by almost but not quite entering my mouth. And then his voice broke the stillness that surrounded me. "Now then," he said, his voice was a little softer now, "let's come to the reason you are here. You performed promisingly on your last visit, and took my manhood well. But that was only after a long period of . ." he paused here as if in thought "well, shall we say foreplay." His cock pushed a little further into my mouth now, plugging the hole made by my lips and tongue, yet still not penetrating any further. Still I dared not move. "Today I want to find out if that was just a one off, or if you can repeat it whenever a Master may require it." With that he removed both his hands leaving my head free. His cock was fully hard now, and needed no support from his hand to stand firm all the way from his groin to my lips. "So, now, once again show me how much of me you can take." This sudden switch from inaction to action on my part took me aback slightly, but I was now wrapped up in the memory of the last time and just as determined to prove my worth as I had been that previous evening. I wanted to swallow him whole. So the moment that my lips closed around his cockhead I pushed on down his shaft, feeling him fill my mouth all the way to the entry to my throat. Unfortunately I hesitated at just the wrong moment and my throat contracted repelling his cockhead even as I began to push myself onto it. That caused me to choke, and I had to withdraw humiliatingly coughing and spluttering. "No, no, no!" he said. "Don't go at it like a bull in a china shop." He sounded helpful now, not domineering. "Just take it slowly, go down a few times, further each time, build up to it. Stimulate the cockhead in between thrusts. Relax your throat. Prepare yourself. That will make a much more sensual experience for your Masters, rather than having you gag and splutter all over them like some gawky inexperienced fool." And so I relaxed and began again, drawing him deeper into my mouth each time before withdrawing to use my tongue and lips on his helmet. His voice came again, more gentle and encouraging now. "Dribble freely on it. Get the shaft all wet, it will make it slide in more easily." And so I did, bathing his shaft in my saliva until it glistened and slid easily between my lips. The memories of the other night surrounded me now, the desire to engulf him swelling up to consume me, to be the only thing that mattered, until on the third or fourth descent I felt I could resist it no longer and I pushed hard against the resistance at the back of my mouth and it slid deep into my throat as my nose buried itself into his pubic hair. "Aaah, yess, that's it," he murmured above me. "Good girl." He drew out the word girl into a long sigh of satisfaction so it sounded more like 'guuuuuurrrlll'. 'Good guuuuuurrrlll' is what I heard, and it was music to my ears. I held it there as long as I could, as long as my breath would stand, before withdrawing back of him to pant, a long string of mucus still connecting my mouth to the head of his cock. "Again," he said. "Deep breath and do it again." It was easier the second time, and on the third time once it was fully lodged I was confident enough to move my head and neck around, pulling his member one way and the other before bobbing up and down on it a little until I ran out of air and had to withdraw to once again kneel panting and wet lipped before him. "You're a good girl," he said, his voice matter of fact again. "But that will be all for now, so take yourself off and wait for me by the door." I was stunned by this. What? Go away? I'd hardly even started. What was he doing? I wanted his seed, he must know I needed it, deserved it even. But he soon disabused me of any misunderstanding. "Chop chop, don't dawdle, do what you're told!", and he broke my hesitation with a couple of sharp strokes on my haunches with the crop. "Be off with you." And so I turned and went on hands and knees towards the hall, carrying my disappointment with me like a big dark cloud on my back. ______________________________________________________________________ When I got back home I was still feeling more than a little disgruntled. I felt let down because he hadn't gone on to come in my mouth. He had got me all turned on and then summarily dismissed me at the height of my arousal. It wasn't until later that night, lying in bed unable to sleep, that I finally made sense of it. What he had done was to give me an object lesson in the total insignificance of my own personal desires when compared with those of the Master. After all, as a submissive I had no right to expect anything. Whatever I personally might want should count for nothing, I was there only to obey his commands and seeking to please him should be my only objective. If he was moved to withhold his seed then I could have no valid grounds for complaint. My disappointment had come from paying attention to my own expectations rather than concentrating solely on pleasing him. It showed me that I still had a way to go. This time it was to be a five day wait before I would see him again, five long days for all the thoughts and feelings that our two previous meetings had aroused in me to swirl around each other and vie for supremacy in my poor little head. It was mostly a mixture of nervous excitement and apprehension. I say apprehension rather than fear, for although I did not actually fear that I might come to harm at his hands any more, I was just extremely nervous about what exactly Master Gordon might have in store for me once the five days were up. But even the not knowing had a strange eroticism wrapped around it that kept the arousal flowing constantly through my body. The physical weight of the chastity device I now wore was a factor in that arousal too. Although it had little effect while I sat or lay down, whenever I stood or walked there was this sensation of a slight pull on my groin which automatically drew my attention to that part of my body, where my sexuality lay, and that kept me in touch with the fact that I was now a caged sub. For the next five days at least, maybe more? How could I know. But it certainly made me feel that I was now in the grip of a Master at all times. The way in which Master Gordon had openly referred to me and my body parts as female was disarmingly seductive rather than worrying to me. After all as the submissive I was naturally playing the female role to his dominant male. "Your little clit." he had said while teasing my cockhead, and "Good girl, good little pussy." as I groaned with the overwhelming sensations his finger was arousing in me as it delved deep into my arse. With those words realisation had swept over me like a revelation, as if he had pulled back a curtain that concealed something that I'd not yet properly considered. I vividly recalled the deep yet subtle pleasure these words had aroused in me, it stirred me in some strange new way every time I thought of it. It had just seemed right, incontestably true. I had long since stopped thinking of myself as being a male but it had taken this sudden dramatic intervention by Master Gordon to bring my obvious sexual nature into sharp focus. But whether this was how I should now expect to be spoken of by my Masters from now on I didn't know. After all Sir had had plenty of time with me yet whenever he wanted to praise me he had always referred to me as a 'good boy'. Would that change from now on? Would he now call me a girl too? But I also realised that using these terms was mainly about removing my image of myself as a male. Using female names for parts of my anatomy would encourage me to think about myself in a different way. And if my masters liked to call my anus my pussy then as a submissive that is how I should bring myself to see it. Already the thought of 'my pussy' instead of 'my arse' was giving me a gentle tingling in my balls. I was very ready to accept it if that would please them. Even though I would still look like a male in everyday life, the intense femininity of my erotic nature was patently obvious now. But that was not the only thing on my mind. After another couple of days I came to realise that my awareness of my penis was diminished. Although I knew that it was still there, and could sense the base of its shaft, that was as far as any sensation went now it was locked away. This was not something I had expected. All the time Sir had had me wear the sheath I'd always thought of my penis as being tucked away out of my reach, that it was shielded from touch, but in reality the material of the sheath was no real barrier to all the sensations that were transmitted to its head as I moved, sat and slept every day. It had muted them, yes, but they still registered constantly. But since Master Gordon had put me in chastity the stimulation had been zero. No touch whatsoever had come to my cockhead. Even at night when I half awoke with a nocturnal erection and could tell that I was fully erect there was no real stimulation to be had at all. And now Master Gordon had put my cock into the tighter confines of the smaller chastity device, each time I woke with an erection all I could feel was a strong pressure enfolding my shaft as it tried to expand beyond the confines of its metal case. It felt like a giant fist had closed around it and was squeezing it remorselessly, but as the cage always moved with me as I moved there was still no stimulation to be had on my cockhead, only that constant relentless pressure on my shaft until the erection subsided. This total lack of stimulation meant that for long periods during the day I almost began to forget that I even had a cock at all as it was no longer constantly giving me those little jolts of sensation all day and night. I didn't even touch it when peeing any more. And it forced me to accept at least one of Master Gordon's instructions as I now had to pee sitting down like a girl. I tried once standing up and it went everywhere, But could I that easily forget it was there? Could it then become possible to forget that I even had one? Was that what Master Gordon had meant when he said this device would suit their purpose better? Was this metal sheath's purpose to bring me to forget that I even had a penis? Or at the very least to refashion my view of it? After all, as a submissive I had no need of a cock any more, did I? My need and my role was to be penetrated, not to penetrate. And while the wearing of Sir's sheath had been voluntary, as I had still had the ability to take it off at will to wash or shave myself, this solid metal one had been securely locked in place with no consultation as to what I might want, and with no way for me to remove it. I felt certain that Master Gordon had done this with Sir's approval, and it signified that the decision had been taken that the time had come to take complete control of my genitals. In a strange way that only served to increase my overall arousal as it had turned what had previously been just the idea that I was their property into an unquestionable reality. Now I really was physically under their control, and that knowledge aroused me far more than I could ever have imagined. And even more arousing was the fact that such was their confidence in their control over me that they could arbitrarily impose complete chastity on me knowing that my nature meant that I would have no choice but to accept it. The more masterful they became the more submissively I would follow. But as more days passed all these thoughts and feelings were being increasingly overridden by the imminent approach of my next visit to Master Gordon. Remembering his instructions immediately before I left both excited and struck fear into me in equal measure. "You have behaved satisfactorily thus far," he had said, "but only in surroundings that you are familiar with. Now it's time to test how you react in a situation that is new to you." He paused for a moment to let this sink in. "Well, not completely new. Do you remember when your Master first exposed you to me?" "Yes Sir," I said, flushing slightly with a mixture of excitement and fearfulness as memories of myself sandwiched helplessly between Sir and Master Gordon that fateful night at his restaurant flooded back into my brain. "And where was that?" he insisted. "At your restaurant Sir," I mumbled. "Indeed. And now the time has come for you to visit me there again. But this time you will come alone, and there will be no pretence of you being just another guest come to dine. This time you will come through the door as a submissive there to serve its Master. There will be no hiding of your true nature and function. You will accept my control right from the start, and demonstrate your obedience by following all instructions promptly and without question. Do you understand?" "Yes, Sir." My voice quavered at the prospect of what he might have in store for me. "Good. So you will bring your collar to me there on Tuesday at five past three in the afternoon. Knock on the door three times like this" he gave three sharp but spaced knocks on the table beside him, "and follow the directions you are given once you enter. Do you understand?" "Yes, Sir." Now I couldn't help sounding even more hesitant. When he spoke again his voice was softer, even gentle. "Listen," he said. "I understand that this is all new to you, and you are bound to feel at least a bit fearful. But you've done well thus far and appear to genuinely enjoy the act of submission. I want to repeat what I told you before. You have nothing to fear from us, and you will come to no harm with us, I give you my word. I know your Master has already told you that, but it's important that you hear it from me personally. Especially as you are now required to surrender yourself to me in my personal domain." "Thank you Sir, I'll do my best." I appreciated this temporary show of concern, it helped to reassure me, although immediately he became the Master again, his tone once again brisk and matter of fact. "Good, So then. Tuesday. Five past three. Don't be late. Knock three times. Do what you're told. It's simple. Indeed, you may well get a reward if your good behaviour continues. But remember, if you fail to obey any of my instructions there will be consequences. I think you know what happens to disobedient submissives, don't you?" I gulped. "Yes, Sir," I said. "So what does happen to them?" "They get punished Sir." "Indeed they do. So don't be late. Once I am out of your sight you may put on your clothes and leave." With that he had turned and walked away leaving me to deal with the prospect of five long days wondering what was to come. It was no wonder that as each day passed my nervousness increased. And now four of those days had passed and tomorrow was the day I was due to revisit him at his restaurant. I found it very hard to sleep that night . . . . . * * * * * * * * Comments and suggestions are always welcome at john_pearce321@yahoo.com Many thanks to everyone who has commented on the story so far!