His Cock, My Master.
Part 1
M/M M/F, Submission and Domination, Cuckold.
By Cate
Bratby was talking about the native tribe in the remote African
valley where he had been studying mountain gorillas.
"If the woman has several lovers, and most of them do," Bratby
observed, "the child has many fathers and one main father. Simple
people, they think all the men have had a hand in making her
pregnant."
He sniggered and sucked deeply on his cheroot.
"No reason why you shouldn't be one of the fathers for your own kid,"
Bratby said.
I made an unidentifiable sound. "Your wife's kid," Bratby said with
a guffaw, "Eh?"
Sometimes Bratby let me pull away and answer him, other times he got
angry if I didn't continue to suck his engorged penis. He was
contentedly smoking his cheroot and had a glass of whisky on a table a
few feet away. He reached for the whisky and I had to move
slightly on my knees and turn my head with him, sucking harder to
keep the swollen cock from twisting away from me. It was one of
the dozens of little tests Bratby had devised for testing my
submission.
"Not so cocky now, are we?" he said contentedly, sipping his whisky
Not that he needed to test me. A month ago he had made me strip
naked, here in this room in the little gate-lodge. I had begged him
not to force me, but he had insisted. This was the way he was going
to pay me back, he'd said. He had mocked the limp appendage I
called a penis as I stood in shame before him. He'd forced me to
take off his trousers for him, to reveal the proud almost
perpendicular tilt of his magnificent organ through his underpants.
He had seen the sick submission in my eyes when I knelt naked between
his knees and he had mockingly accepted my unconditional surrender.
I was then made to beg to be allowed to suck his turgid cock. The
swollen head of his penis was poised above me like a cobra head and
I had reached out my tongue and touched the glazed purple glans
corona which showed through the stretched foreskin, a tiny drop of
pre-cum beading out of the meatus. He had directed me to first
trace the outline of the head of his turgid member, then ring the
shaft of the penis in a spiralling motion with the tip of my tongue,
feeling the erect rod slap against my cheekbones and nose as I did
so, then on to his scrotum sac with the soft, pigskin texture of
the skin, the firm plum-sized testicles nesting swollen inside. My
tongue strayed into his pubic hair and I smelled the strong scent of
his languid arousal as I again dipped my head and traced my tongue
along the line of his perineum. He lifted up slightly in the chair,
putting his feet over my bent shoulders to allow me to tongue his
asshole
All this I remembered now, on my knees again before him in the early
winter dark in the little gate-lodge of the old manor house my wife
and I were trying to renovate. How he had ejaculated the first time
into an empty whisky tumbler to show me how copious his cum was.
The way his ejaculation had spat furiously into the glass and how
he had milked his cum to the last drop from his still engorged penis. Whenever I saw my own cum it was just a pea sized blob which climbed wearily out of my penis and had to be squeezed and shaken off, not this violent eruption of white jelly produced by Bratby's shapely plums. How, later, after he had come twice in my throat, he had made me drink the cold cum from the glass as a final sign of my submission. Now as I sucked I could feel my master begin to deflate. This was another trick of Bratby's. At our first session he had sat in front of me, naked, his penis erect and made me watch as he willed it to detumesce slowly until it rested between his legs on the seat of his chair.
"Bet that happens to you all the time, old boy" he sneered. Christ,
what had Patricia been saying to him, I'd though. "I can do it
whenever I want" he went on and then made me watch as his gloriously
shapely penis with its heavy hood and two clearly delineated veins
and prominent frenulum went into the ascendant again , rising to
assert itself proudly erect against his paunch.
Usually he liked to come in my mouth a full three times in an
afternoon and to drag each session out as long as possible, letting
his penis go limp and forcing me to retain it in my mouth, just
tonguing it gently until he saw fit to allow his hot blood to fully
engorge it again.
"Patricia keeping well?" Bratby asked sneeringly and I bobbed my
head. "Don't worry," he went on, "I'll keep my promise, okay?"
I made another inarticulate sound, a slight submissive nod of my
head.
"Sorry about cuckolding you, old boy," he said. "but a woman can't
go without forever."
He took a sip of his whiskey and lit another cheroot. I tongued
the by now wrinkled foreskin of his almost totally flaccid penis,
then felt it very gradually stir and begin to harden, to become more
glossy, wetter under my tongue, press against the roof of my mouth. I didn't really think he wanted my shrewish wife on a permanent basis and it was a sick perversion that I had to do this to keep him away from her and, more important, to keep concealed the fact that I was not the father of the child in her womb.. But he had me and he knew it.
"Wasn't very nice of you, old boy," he said. "trying to kick me out
when I couldn't pay the rent. These university research grants don't get you
very far, you know."
His penis had reached full turgidity now, but he had not yet given me
the signal to proceed. I was to simply retain it passively and
obediently in my mouth, until this beast which was now my master was
ready to be fully satisfied.
Not, of course, that this was the only hold he had over me. He had
caught me spying on himself and that Chinese girl of his having sex here in the front room and he also knew that I'd liked to watch him padding naked through the back yard to the pump on summer mornings, a view I had from our bedroom window, his polished bald pate
glinting in the sun, his massive shoulders and matted chest hair, and
his semi-erect tool, his early morning piss-hardon.
It was the Chinese girl he'd used to trap me. She was stunningly
beautiful. He knew I'd fancied her and I'd thought she might cure
my impotence. I was fairly sure it was Patricia's hard, shrewish
coldness that was making me fail with her, making me unable to give
her the child she craved, the baby that she though would "make her
a complete woman". Patricia had slapped my face and gone berserk
when I'd suggested she have sex with Bratby while I slept with the
Chinese girl. I told her some rubbish about "trying to save our
marriage" But I knew now she'd arranged the whole thing in advance
with Bratby. Well, I didn't KNOW in the way you never really know
with a woman, but I was pretty certain. She'd eventually agreed,
then I tried to pull out, having second thoughts, seeing Patricia so
vulnerable in the new underwear she'd pathetically bought for the
occasion. We'd tried to ring the Chinese girl who had been away in
London, to put her off, but she had already left. Trouble was,
she'd done a bunk and I ended up with nobody and Patricia spent the
week-end in the gate-lodge with Bratby. And she'd double-crossed
me by using no protection.
Tasting the increased flow of pre-cum, I sucked vigorously, avid
now to satisfy my master, and Bratby began to grunt with
satisfaction, pushing forward in the chair, his penis now attacking
the back of my throat, making me gag, short thrusts, then a series
of long, slow ones, then a final staccato tattoo and he blew off
violently in orgasm in my throat, overwhelming me with the
fullness of his cum, a choking stinging throatful as he gripped
my ears and slammed my face against his protruding belly, then
gripping my head between his thighs, his lower legs crossed behind
my head and mercilessly holding me to him until all of his copious
cum was expelled in my throat. He bellowed in triumph as he
expelled every last drop into me.
We did it once more, it took over an hour, and he finally released
me at six o'clock.
Patricia was even more shrewish now that she was six months gone
and still afflicted with morning sickness. I knew that she would
quite likely have gone away with Bratby if he had wanted her - and
if he'd had any money. We ate mostly in silence apart from a few
barbed remarks about the mess the builders had left the house in.
My father had founded Hardcastle Safes and I remembered him
bringing me to see one of these old, two key safes in a London bank,
the letters Hardcastle engraved in the massive iron door under gilt
scrollwork. My name, he'd told me, as I stared in childlike wonder.
The company was long gone and the safes were out of date and
contained mostly documents and piles of old deeds crumbling away
in thousands of banks while massive new safes with electronic
combination locks and complicated alarm systems had replaced them.
The company had been sold after my father's death and my mother
had bought several Park Lane apartment buildings and opened a couple
of expensive flower shops in London. I was supposed to be
converting this old manor house into flats and getting tenants for
them. So far only one flat had been completed - the only tenant
was Bratby who had paid no rent since a month after he moved into
the gate-lodge last year. I wasn't looking forward to mother's
next visit.
Patricia's belly was swollen with pregnancy. My stomach rumbled
uncomfortably. It occurred again to me she was filled with
Bratby's child. Bratby had told me that even if I had managed
to have intercourse with my wife on the same night as he first did, his semen would have overcome mine - that in the gorilla world dominant males always had a constituent in their semen that killed off the semen of their competitors and that he was confident his had this quality. Again I felt a shameful rush of shame and disgust at my subjection to Bratby, then a wild, uncontrollable thrill of pleasure that rocked me to the core. My face flushed. This vile cud, the jellied acidic greyness eruped in my belly, full of Bratby's cum and I tasted him again, sour and triumphant in my throat.
"Please don't belch at table," Patricia said severely.
Bratby insisted that I become familiar with the various parts of
his penis, pointing out that only in this way would I be fully
capable of following his instructions for my pleasuring of him.
We had naming of parts, Bratby making me touch each part in
turn with my tongue, offering my obeisance to it, the neat slit
of the urinary meatus, the full glans with its swollen corona,
and the shaftskin which he liked me to push back to a position
he favoured on his plump shaft. It was cold outside and Bratby
had lit a paraffin stove in the tiny living-room of the gate-lodge
and I knelt naked between his knees. I had been with him for over
three hours and my jaw was sore as I choked down Bratby's third
orgasm of the afternoon. He smoked a cigar while he recovered
and I knelt before him, awaiting his pleasure. He smiled
sardonically at my limp semi-erection.
"I don't want you trying to pleasure yourself, old boy," he'd said
at the beginning. "I don't know if you're gay but I'm certainly not.
What you do in your own time is your own business."
This particular afternoon, while I was sucking his cock, Bratby
decided to humiliate me further by recounting at length and in
exquisite detail, his conquest of my wife. He spoke of undressing
her, giving a minute description of her underwear even down to the
labels on her bra and panties, his opinion of her figure, then told
how they had grappled at each other and fell on the bed, mating like
wild animals, before settling down to a prolonged bout of leisurely
sexual intercourse. They'd had a break for a meal and, according
to Bratby, had continued in their sexual delirium, falling asleep at
last around midnight. Bratby recounted how he had woken to find
Patricia's hand on his sex,
"I had a rock hard erection, old boy," he observed. "I'm afraid
I mounted her without further ado and gave her the ride of her life."
I could not understand how I could loathe Bratby so much and yet I
was in thrall to his cock .
"Funny thing, but she knew she was pregnant that weekend," Bratby
said smugly. "She said she felt like she'd never felt before.
Lucky I got her at her fertile time."
It was awkward, totally humiliating to be kept sitting on the floor
like this, stark naked before my hairy conqueror and Bratby's penis
had started to become proudly erect again, perhaps stimulated by
thoughts of my wife and his triumphant conquest of her. He
motioned me to my knees in front of him again, making me take his
penis gently in my mouth. I pushed back the shaftskin until he
told me to stop, then held the meaty shaft with my lips, my tongue
gently stimulating his glans corona, flicking lightly over the meatus
until Bratby indicated that I should stop and hold his cock
motionless while we could both feel it swelling to fill my mouth.
"By the way," he said. "it gets a bit cold here in the Winter. I
want you to make arrangements for me to move into that nice little
new apartment you've fixed up in the house."
I gagged, but he would not let me withdraw to speak.
"I'll want to keep this place for writing my thesis," he said,
"and, of course, for us!"
My world was about to fall in. My wife was just about to give
birth, Bratby was installed in the best and most comfortable part
of the house, and my sister had just arrived, sent by my mother,
to find out what the hell was going on. Susan was a lawyer but
had had a nervous breakdown after losing a long-drawn out fraud case
a couple of years ago and now did legal and clerical work for my
mother. Bratby had slyly pointed out that it wouldn't do if my
mother found out that the child wasn't mine - wasn't, in fact, her
grandchild as she now thought. Susan could become absolutely
white-faced with temper when she didn't get her way and she was
at her wits end to know what was going on, what with the fact the
house was still only half-finished, the builders had disappeared
and Bratby wasn't paying any rent. I was trying to get by with
a mixture of lies and evasion and, although they'd had a couple of
interviews, Bratby was becoming very difficult to find, except for
me when he summoned me to the cottage. One afternoon Susan was
actually outside, banging on the door while I knelt on the floor
with Bratby's cock in my mouth.
She rang Mother every day with a progress report and said it was
only a matter of time before she would smoke Bratby out.
The following Saturday afternoon I knelt on the threadbare carpet,
my mouth and tongue coated with pre-cum as Bratby fought for his
third orgasm of the afternoon. I was ashamed and sick, and yet
thrilled at my humiliation. I had the nearest thing to a full
erection I'd had for years and could confidently hope to masturbate
effectively as soon as I reached home. I sucked furiously,
trying to put out of my mind for the moment what I'd seen earlier-
what I'd tasted in my mouth, what had fouled my first delirious
anticipation of the taste of Bratby's cock. But now my stomach
rumbled and I gagged as Bratby forced his monstrously turgid penis
against the back of my throat, groaned and then bellowed with
triumph as he released his full wad of salty, gamey cum to join
what felt like an uncomfortably huge amount of it already in my
stomach. But I was shaken. After I'd undressed and knelt before
him, my mouth salivating to take my master's rigid cock and humbly
serve his pleasure, I'd seen one of Susan's expensive Italian shoes
lying beside the oil-stove. And as I bowed my head towards him I
noticed that Bratby's pubic area was discreetly perfumed with
Duchesse de Guermantes , my sisters almost unobtainably expensive
fragrance, and the shaft of his cock was distinctly ringed with her
dark red lipstick. The triumph in Bratby's hard little eyes
had been unmistakable.
Bratby's cock was swollen and turgid, an angry purplish red, and
the slit eye of his meatus glared out from the crown of the glans.
For all the striations, irregularities and veins on it, the skin
of his cock looked very smooth. I had read somewhere that the
softest skin on the human body is not a woman's, but the skin on the
male penis. The head was shiny and well shaped. The ridge on the
underside of his shaft was very thick.. . I grasped his rod; it
felt plumply hard. My hands felt cool against his warm skin. My mouth
was opening, my tongue extending, as I bent down to embrace his
meat. As my lips enclosed the firm smooth head of his cock, I had
an involuntary shudder of joy in my total submission. My lips closed
just past the collar of the head. Saliva drooled down my chin. The
first taste of his organ was tingly, like tongues touching. Bratby
let out a low, guttural moan. I could feel the pre-cum which was
already oozing from his meatus on my hands as I lubed his shaft.
My hands slid down its length. He clasped his hands firmly behind
my head and raised to meet my advance, pulling me farther in than I
was prepared for. I tried to pull back, but he was not to be denied.
I pulled down his foreskin and set to work on the underside of the
head with my tongue. From the moan that escaped Bratby's lips, I knew
he liked that. I licked under his tip with wild abandon. I tightened
my lips around his shaft and, sucking as hard as I could, began
working my mouth up and down his monstrous rod.
Bratby's hips were bucking up off the chair a bit more now, but,
with my hands grasping his cock at the base, I was able to keep
him from pushing in too much, although I was obliged to acknowledge
that ultimate control would be his and his alone. I had about six
inches of him in my mouth now His cock tasted of sweat and salt.
It was so slick that, with the quantity of saliva I was producing,
my tongue glided around and my lips slid up and down its length
easily. My saliva was coming in thick, viscous doses. The mixture of
spit and sweaty phallus gave off a pungent, musky smell. The
combination was actually intensely arousing for me as well and
I became aware that I had an almost full erection. I had hoped
to please him by getting my lips down to the base of his cock
and I had managed to take in about six inches at one point, but
no more. I sucked him hard. I stroked him with my hands and twisted
my whole head from side to side as I plunged my mouth up and down
this magnificent phallus which had made itself my master and I
imagined myself in humble obeisance to it,
and I knew that only unquestioning obedience to its needs would be
accepted and that only in the deepest humility and submission would
it reward me with its tumultuous bounty.
I gulped air in loud breaths. Bratby may have thought I was going to
start pleasuring myself, for he sternly ordered me to replace my
hands on his thighs. My cheeks ached from incessantly sucking this
monster. I couldn't feel my lips from the friction caused by sliding
them across the veined and striated shaft. My neck was warm and
stiff from the non-stop motion I desperately tried to suckle the
rigid monster harder. The upward curve of Bratby's phallus made
it dig into the roof of my mouth whenever I tried to take it
further down my throat. I stood up, mouth still attached to the
beast, to get a better angle. I got about seven inches in before
I gagged on it. My brazen attempts to deep throat his turgid
instrument aroused and amused Bratby.
I realized that Bratby took a perverted delight in my attempts
to swallow him whole and even more in my lack of success. I wanted
him to come in my mouth. I wanted him to gasp with pleasure and
twist around on the chair before me. I had after all, been working
with that goal in mind all this time. The twisted perversity of the
whole thing hit me hard as if I was seeing the whole thing from
outside. I began gasping for his meat like I was French kissing
a lover. My hands were all over his cock, his balls, his stomach,
and his hips. I put my arms under his legs and cupped his ass cheeks
as he threw his groin up into my face.
"Put your finger up my ass," he ordered, gasping, "I want you to -
uh, uh..." I lubed my finger in the mess that was drooling down
my chin and Bratby heaved up so that his hairy asshole was staring
up at me and I tentatively prodded it with my finger.
"Push it in, ream me," he yelled. "That's it, a couple of inches in,
you'll feel that little gland thing, the prostate."
Bratby let out an "OMIGOD!". He quickly clamped his hands behind
my head and began pulling me harder and harder as he thrust higher
and higher.
" Suck me, get ready to drink my juice!"
I had found his prostate, a slick little gland about the size of a
walnut and I began to stimulate it eagerly, gradually increasing the
speed at which I was palpating it. He groaned again. He paused
for a moment, then began slamming my mouth at jack hammer pace. I
felt as though my lips would tear, but, obediently, I still worked
his phallus and his prostate diligently. Suddenly, I tasted a
stronger gush of Bratby's pre-cum. I nearly gagged from it's strong
taste, but knew we were close to the climax. He held me close in
the hot smell of his groin and made short, quick thrusts
into my mouth. He stood up, still deep in me, my mouth still
working his shaft. He knocked me back so hard that I had to clench
his ass tightly just to keep my balance. He half rose from the chair
and stepped forward, until my head was forced back with his plums
directly above my chin. He began ramming straight down, so hard
I nearly choked. I was gagging and flailing desperately to stop
him killing me . In this position he had total control and he used
it mercilessly. Then, just as I thought I would choke, he changed
over to short, superfast jabs, just inside my mouth. He still had a
grip on my head and all I could do was hope to survive while
he rode me out. . He removed one hand to grab his cock near the
base. Immediately, he jerked and spasmed; hot, salty cum shooting
into my mouth. He bellowed and pulled his cock out of my mouth
and shot the rest of his massive load into my face. Droplets flew
all over. He grunted and gasped as he rubbed his cock, still pumping
it's payload, all over my face.
"Oh God! Oh God!!" he yelled.
I coughed and choked as hot sperm leaked down, its strong taste
seemed to burn all the way down. My mouth was full, cum dripping
down my chin, I gagged on his bitter seed, but he clamped my mouth
to his balls tightly and commanded me to drink every drop. I totally
submitted again, in agony but also in a delirium of joy at my total
subservience. Bratby grabbed me by the back of the head with both
hands and rubbed my face all over his groin. His pubic hairs dug
into my cheeks and sperm and spit coated my face To my horror, I
found that every time this man's huge prick brushed my lips, I
mouthed it compulsively. And this time Bratby gave me no respite.
As soon as he had recovered he sat down again on his chair and
motioned me to take his now deflated penis in my mouth again.
He took out one of his Dutch cheroots from the tin on the table
and I heard the scrape of his lighter.
He had been doing this more and more lately, so that often I had
his penis in my mouth for an hour or more at a time And these
were the times, as I knelt at his feet with his cock in my mouth,
when it pleased Bratby to gloat over me, giving further details
of his sexual adventures with first my wife and now my sister.
To be continued.