Date: Thu, 21 Oct 2021 21:38:33 +0000 (UTC)
From: obd4@aol.com
Subject: When Master Calls (10)

When Master Calls (10)

All the events in this series are based on my own experience, although
they may not always have occurred in the sequence given here.  I have
very much appreciated the comments sent from fellow subs and from
Masters; i very much look forward to receiving more. Please remember to
support Nifty with financial contributions.

Master's last visit didn't end with the punishment described in chapter
9, there was more to come!

Although He'd punished me so hard, throughout i had been focused on His
pleasure and on the worship of His cock. My only thought now was how to
ensure continued communion with His cock which i so craved, so when
Master instructed me to find a condom i carefully rolled it down and
gazed longingly at it as i knelt on the bed between His legs.
"Please Master, fuck me like a dog fucks a bitch in a street!"
Soon i was bent over the side of the bed with Master's hand slapping my
arse for being so bold as to speak out of turn. He poked a finger into my
tight arsehole, twisting and reaming for a minute or two then entered me
with some difficulty. I longed to take Him with ease and pushed back, my
arse up in the air ready to be completely possessed. Reaching behind i
felt for his balls and sensed they were bouncing against my own little
useless sac.
"Bark like a dog!"
And yes, i woofed and growled and panted; my arse writhed and quivered as
i squeezed the muscles of my hole in order to give Him the most pleasure
i could, hoping to draw out His semen. The rutting and heat it generated,
the barking and panting made for a moment of total unity as though we
were inseparable, His cock an integral part of my insides, my whole body
a mere extension of his will. And then He suddenly withdrew, dragged me
to the floor and stood over me. Instinctively i knelt up, like a
supplicant and knew that i was to receive His precious seed. The loss
from my gaping hole totally insignificant in this moment of concentration
as i stared up at the source of His power, his superb balls, his rock
hard powerful cock which he jerked and was soon spraying gouts of jism in
my hair, over my face and, so mercifully, into my awe struck open mouth.
Once again Master had asserted His authority and power.

I've heard it said a dog will wait patiently for its master for hours at
a time, sitting behind the front door barely moving.  The thought was in
my mind this morning some weeks later as i knelt in the hallway, knees
beginning to chafe against the carpet and my nipples stinging from the
pegs i'd been instructed to attach when Master had called half an hour
earlier. "I'm on my way," is all He said but all i knew was to be
ready for any possibility. A text soon followed -- be dressed, briefs,
trousers, shirt and with pegs on tits.  This is my time for focusing, for
getting my head into the right space and i try to calm myself, although
often i am overexcited and fidgety. I need to empty other thoughts from
my mind, any thought other than of Master at a time like this is of no
consequence. It can take a while, and Master knows it, sometimes He makes
me wait for an hour. My head races with fancies and notions, imagining
what service i might be required to do, what pain i may have to endure,
will i be fucked, will i be allowed to taste His precious jism? My cock
.... no, must remember not to call it that , even in my own head, my
willy, my little clit, my nub ... is pushing against the fabric of my
briefs but i know better than to touch it. Occasionally when Master
arrives He judges i am not ready; He is very understanding and makes me
circle the room on all fours several times, as though He is trying to
pacify a restless puppy, i focus on his heels and i trail behind gaining
a modicum of calm from the rhythmical movements and His quiet footfall.
Sounds from outside are frequent, footsteps, a car. Each one raises my
expectations, and my fears. Twice i think it is Him then squirm with
disappointment although there is a little relief too, but when at last He
does arrive the sounds are misleadingly quiet and indistinct. The door
handle turns and i ensure i'm facing down, only the carpet in view. He
firmly shuts the door behind Him and turns the key, He advances and i
feel myself quivering, my breath is irregular. He walks past, for a
moment it is as though i'm to be ignored. I hear him sit on the sofa
behind me. I wait. I wait.

"Turn and crawl to me," is all He says; i do so without daring to raise
my head so that eventually his trainers are all i can see. I've never
been especially turned on by feet but when He says remove my shoes and
socks i'm oddly excited, this is a new experience. I do so with care and
try to show reverence by cradling each foot whilst i undo the laces and
heave off the shoe; pushing in a finger against each heel i then stretch
out and pull down each sock, drawing it under the sole as the tension
gives and finally i slip it away from the foot; i'm feeling slightly
awkward with these unfamiliar manoeuvres, but a little dizzy with the
excitement of being so close to His newly exposed flesh too; there is a
dampness and a ripe, slightly sour smell which emerges and  i lean
forward to savour it. I want to bring the damp, still warm sock to my
face, to inhale its scent but don't know if i have permission so i
pause.
Master seems pleased and instructs me to lick his feet. I do this for a
long time, still not daring to look up, but i begin to sense another
smell, the smell of Master's unwashed penis, and before i have a chance
to beg, even to moan with desire, He has lifted my chin and allowed me to
gaze at His stiff cock as he rolls the foreskin back and to, each time
exposing the glistening, sweaty smooth skin underneath, each time
releasing a little of that odour which drives me crazy with lust. But i
must remember that my lust has no consequence, i am here only to serve
His needs, in this, and in this only, do i find meaning and,
consequently, satisfaction. Nevertheless i can dream! Master has been at
work on an early shift, for hours his cock has sat in His boxers
gathering sweat. He continued to play with it and i could but stare,
enraptured. His grey tracky bottoms are still around His thighs and He
pushes them down slightly further, exposing His balls. A click of the
fingers brings me back to full attention and directs me to nuzzle under
His sac. Further orders come. "Lick my balls, i slurp and slide my
tongue all over the shiny skin which always seems to be stretched taut by
their size; i love most to feel their weight on my face while i bob and
duck my mouth and nose under, around and behind in this most intimate of
places, i glory in this privilege, this access to the seat of Master's
masculinity.
Throughout all this the pegs on my nipples are jiggling around inside my
shirt, Master reaches inside pulling and twisting, reminding me how
foolish i look. Humiliation it seems is to be the theme of the day, but
thank goodness today's humiliation is to be endured with only Master
present.

Two weeks ago He had taken me to visit an older man, another top who
wanted to watch as i was sent bright red with embarrassment in front of
him. When i'd met Master in the street, walking from O/our cars He
handed me a large cucumber, in broad daylight.  I had no choice but to
carry it, taking care to walk one step behind Master as He asked me to
guess how it would be used.
"Speak up I can't hear your answer!"
Two youths passed us and one gave me an odd look.
"M..m..maybe You're going to make me use it sir..."
"What! Use it? How?"
I took advantage of the noise of a passing bus.
"To t... to.. er.. use it Sir, as a .. er..  dildo."
But my voice faded away with that explicit, excruciatingly embarrassing
word.
Finally i managed to mumble that He would make me fuck myself with it and
i imagined that the whole street had heard me. But what happened once we
were in the older man's flat is a story for another chapter!

I was now instructed to remove all my clothes but keep the pegs on my
nipples, then to waggle my dick around by moving only my hips. I felt
like a cheap whore displaying myself for a lewd customer, and, as Master
so often reminded me, as i didn't have, in His opinion, a proper man's
cock the analogy of a whore was all the more apt; the more He called it
my clit the more i felt the burning shame .... and the more aroused i
became, feeling the growing weight of my stiff "willy" as it gyrated
and waved in front of Him.  It's a contradiction really, as my thing
gets a bit bigger and stiffer i think of it as more manly, maybe Master
will smile and say something more complimentary about it; maybe He will
even refer to it as my dick. But as i look up from my waving bouncing
willy i see He is not even looking, but scrolling down on His phone and
smiling to Himself.

"Did I give you permission to stop?" The words are spoken without
lifting His head from the screen and i carry on my lewd, demeaning task
with more vigour; i do it for one reason, the only reason which matters,
i do it because it pleases Him.