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The Power of Cock

By: John Hamilton



The following is an entirely fictional story from the mind of a horny bi-curious guy.

It was my Sophomore year in College and once again my girlfriend was too busy with homework to spend time with me. We hadn't done anything sexual in a while so I was feeling deprived and extremely horny. I needed to jack off like crazy but my roommate was in the room so I went to the bathroom in the food court building. 

It was a quiet place. There was only one guy in there and he was at the urinal. I figured he would leave soon so I sat on the stall and took my six-inch erection out and started to jerk it quietly. Then the door opened and some other guy walked towards the urinal. I could see all this through that small space between the door and stall wall. The first guy turned to the side showing his cock to the guy who just came in. It was huge! It was thicker and longer than mine and rock hard. The second guy fell to his knees and opened his mouth. Then the one standing up shoved his cock right into his open mouth!

I was masturbating furiously now. I had never seen another guy's dick before and sure as hell never seen a guy suck one. But I was mesmerized and turned on by the whole thing. The guy standing up grabbed the back of the cock suckers head and started to force his mouth to bob back and forth on his cock faster and faster. I could hear gagging noises as he forced this guy to take the entire length of his shaft in his mouth. The guy standing up groaned and I knew he had cum in this other guy's mouth! The standing guy zipped up and the cock ucker left.

I was so turned on by this, cum started dripping from my cock. I pointed it towards the stall wall and it squirted massive streams of cum onto the wall. 

I had just ripped some toilet paper from the wall to clean it up when I heard a voice say, "Don't bother cleaning it up. There is a lot cum stains on that stall." 

I didn't know what to do other than get out of there quick. I wiped the cum off my dick, zipped up, and opened the door. The guy was standing there writing something on a piece of paper. I went to the sink and quickly washed my shaking hands.

"So you liked what you saw? I think you would make a good cocksucker, I could always use another one. Here's my number." He hands me the paper.

I take it and say, "You don't understand I'm strait, I have a girlfriend..."

"Exactly why you need dick, it's so much better. Guys always want sex and don't play games about it. Doesn't matter if you want a blow job or a cock in your mouth, there is always someone willing to please you. Call me when you're ready"

He walked out and I put the paper in my pocket just for the heck of it.

The next day was Saturday and my roommate went home for the weekend. My girlfriend came over but she had to study for a big exam so she didn't have much time. She gave me a quick blow job as I lie on the bed. But instead of just lying their like normal, I grabbed her head and started controlling her up and down movements. I kept pushing her down faster and faster, deeper and deeper till I heard her gag. She was moaning as I forced her to suck even harder and finally came in her mouth. She remarked how different that was and much bigger my load was. Then she left.

I laid there and thought about the BJ. One of the reasons it turned me on so much was because I was imagining that I was the one giving it. I just kept wondering what it feels like to take a cock in your mouth the entire time. My dick was getting hard again and I couldn't get that thought out of my head. I just kept thinking about that big cock I saw in the bathroom and what it must feel like to suck it. It was driving me nuts. To make matters worse I noticed the guy's number was a campus number so their would be no problem meeting with him if I called. The urge grew and grew til I couldn't contain it anymore. I called the number.

It rang and he picked up. 

"Hi I'm the guy from the bathroom. I want to get together and do that thing you were talking about."

"And what was that?"

"You know. The walls are thin around here I don't want people to hear me say that word."

"But I thought you wanted a manly cock in that virgin mouth of yours."

"I do"

"Not bad enough if you're not willing to say it. Sorry, my cock's reserved for people who really want it." 

"But I do want it!"

"You want to be my cock sucker?"

"Yes!"

"You want to get on your knees and feel my big hard erection fill your mouth?"

"Yes!"

"Prove it! Say it to me now!"

"I want your cock!"

"And what do you want to do with it?"

"I want it in my mouth! I want to suck your cock! I want to be your cocksucker!"

"Good."

And with that he gave me his address and told me to come over now. I ran out the door and ran across campus to his dorm. I didn't care if anyone had heard me back at the dorm. I didn't care about anything at the moment accept getting a cock in my mouth.

I got to his door and he let me in. He immediately took his cock out of his pants. It was fully erect. He pointed it towards me and held it firmly in his hand. He told me to take off my clothes and get on my knees. I obeyed. Once I was on my knees naked he approached me and held his big hard cock just inches from my face. I couldn't keep my eyes off it. There I was totally naked and exposed in front of another man for the first time and all I could think about was what it would feel like to suck his cock

He grabbed my head by the hair and forced me to look up at him. "If you want it, you have to give yourself to cock. Once you suck my dick you belong to my dick. You become my cocksucking faggit slave and I become your master. Are we clear cocksucker?"

"Yes master. Please let me suck your cock."

He pushed it through my parted lips. I felt his head slowly move into my mouth and I closed my lips around it. It was incredible to finally having his huge hard cock in my mouth. It was even better then I imagined. I had never been so turned on. I twirled my tongue around it trying to impersonate what my girlfriend does to mine. Three more inches of his hard erection was in my mouth. I wrapped my hand around his shaft and started to bob my head slowly back and forth taking more and more of it in. I wanted to take the whole damn thing in my mouth. Then I felt his hands on the back of my head and I let go of his dick. He pulled it completely out and shoved it forcefully back in my mouth. He started to work hips back and forth thrusting his cock into my mouth harder and harder, deeper and deeper. He shoved the whole length of it down my throat! I gagged, it felt incredible. He was using my mouth to get off like it was some pussy. He was yelling, "Take it cocksucker! Take my cock!"

Then he moaned and and slowed it down. He held my head firmly in place. Then all of sudden, I felt the streams of liquid shooting down my thoat! I tried to move my head but he held it in place forcing me to take it. He was cumming in my mouth! I couldn't believe it. Once I realized that, I was even more turned on. The streams of warm man juice shot down my throat til it turned into a dribbling salty stream I gleefully liked off his head. When the cum stopped he pulled out and zipped up. He said he had no more use for me at that moment and I could leave now. I put on my clothes quietly, my head still spinning from the experience. I was nervous but excited. He asked me for my number and where I live and I told him. As I left he told me he would see me tomorrow.

The next day I hear a knock on the door at about 1:00PM. I open the door to find it's him.

"Hello, cocksucker," he said.

I couldn't believe he said that in the hall! I nervously motioned him in. He walked in.

"Get on your knees, cocksucker! It's time for you to swallow my dick again!" he said loudly.

I cringed and whispered, "Don't say it so loud! My nieghbors will hear you." 

"Don't say what? That you're my cock sucking faggit slave who lives to have dick in his mouth?" He said even louder, smiling while I squirmed. He unziped his pants and took his big hard erection out. He holds it firmly in his hand and I look at it with awe. Suddenly I cared less about what everyone around me heard and more about that piece of man meat being down my throat.

He continued to yell, "If you want my cock they'll be no more complaints! Get on your knees now slave and suck your Master's dick!"

"Yes Master!" I dropped to my knees and took his man meat in my hand as I ran my tongue up and down the side of his giant cock. I ran my tongue all over it getting it nice and wet. I tongued and sucked on his balls and he groaned loudly. Then, suddenly, I took his whole cock in my mouth and began to bob back and forth wildly on his swollen tool. I held onto his ass for leverage as I madly sucked his dick. I kept taking it in as deep as I could. Occasionally I found my nose hitting his pubic hair and his balls slapping against my chin. 

He grabbed the back of my head to make sure I continued the motion while yelling, "Yes, suck my cock, you faggit! Take it! Suck your Master's cock! Take my dick, cocksucker! Take it!! Take it!!!"

He just kept getting louder and louder. It was okay because I wanted him to. I wanted my master to scream so loud the whole dorm would hear how well I sucked his cock. All I cared about was getting that cock in my mouth off. 

Suddenly he pulls out. I'm afraid I did something wrong but then I see him rapidly stroking his hard cock. I had seen enough pornos to know what was next but he said it anyway, "I'm gonna cum on your face cocksucker! You're gonna wear your Master's cum on your face! Get ready for it, faggit!"

I closed my eyes and opened my mouth as wide as I could as a huge stream of hot gooey cum shoots into my mouth. He purposely misses my mouth with his next few squirts. I feel stream after stream of his warm cum hit my face. It was all over my nose and forehead. I felt his warm, hard cock rub against my cheek, rubbing his dribbling jizz on my cheek. His cock then travels across my lips to my other cheek and finally to my chin, marking each place with his cum. His cock pulled away and hung in front of my dripping, cum soaked face. I could feel my master's cum oozing down my face, dripping onto the floor. I opened my eyes to see his cock in front of me.

"You like wearing your Master's cum don't you faggit?"

"Yes, Master."

"But you do need to get cleaned up don't you?"

"Yes, Master"

"I want you to walk over to the bathroom and wash you face off"

"But Master it's across the hall. People will see.."

"Shut up, faggit! Do as I say!"

I had no choice. I got up and opened the door. I walked directly to the bathroom. Several people where in the hall but I didn't look at them. I got to the sinks and washed my face off. The guys in the bathroom looked at me but didn't say anything. I wiped my face dry with a paper towel and hurried back to the room. By then my Master is gone. 

Two days had passed and I hadn't heard anything from my Master. I really missed the feeling of his cock in my mouth. My girlfriend and I were supposed to get together that night when he finally called me. He told me to come over right away. It was only an hour before my girlfriend was supposed to come over. I told him I couldn't make it, that I needed to see my girlfriend tonight. He told me I should break up with her but I didn't want to. He told that his cock was better for me and that I didn't need her anymore because I was his slave now. He demanded I get rid of her or no more cock. I begged him not to, I just couldn't bare to lose her. He changed his mind and told me to instead come over right now and that would be enough. I asked him to make it quick so I could meet with my girlfriend. He chuckled and agreed.

When I got over there he standing there completely naked with an unerect dick . Even unerect I couldn't keep my eyes off his huge member. He told me to take off my clothes and get on the bed. I obeyed. He then proceeded to tie my hands to the bed post.

His naked body mounted my bare chest as he furiously stroked his cock. I didn't take long for it to get hard. He proceeded to grab my head with both hands and shoved his erection into my mouth. I was completely plaint and let him use my mouth as his own personally pussy. His hips thrust it in deep, hard, and fast. As he kept going it felt I was going choke on it but, with my hands tied, I couldn't do anything about it. He kept yelling at me to "Take it!" I was completely at his mercy. He pulled out and turned around so his back was against the headboard and his balls were hanging just above my mouth. He then proceeded to point his erection downward and shoved it down my throat. He proceeded to fuck my pussy mouth that way. 

He kept this up in various positions for three hours, cumming about four times. I was a whore flat on my back just begging to be fucked over and over. I just couldn't get enough of my master's cock. I was so helpless the entire time. It was great.

When I got back to my room and realized how much time had passed I immediately called my girlfriend and apologized. She was furious but she was willing to let me make it up to her the next night.

The next night she arrived at my dorm room and I apologize again for standing her up. Then the phone rings. It's my Master. I tell him my girlfriend's here and that we're making up for last night. He told me I had to make a decision between her and his cock. He said I had to come over right now. He had something to show me that would make the decision easier. If I didn't come over know I would never see his cock again. He said it would only take a minute and this time he promises he'll let me leave anytime I want to. He didn't sound like I could negotiate with him at all. I couldn't give up his cock. I told my girlfriend one of my friends was in trouble, and that I would be back in twenty minutes. She grudgingly lets me go. I ran across campus not knowing what the hell I was going to do.

I got to my Master's room. He opened the door and there were two black guys in there with him. He shut the door.

"These are my friends. I told them how much you liked to suck cock and they thought they would try you out."

They each unzipped their pants pulling out the thickest, longest cocks I had ever seen. Their dark dicks weren't even erect and they were bigger and longer than my Master's. I stared at them for a moment and then my Master says "I have lot's of friends like them. But you can only have them and me if you dump your girlfriend right now. What do you say?"

I couldn't resist I had to have them. I said "yes" and he told me to drop to my knees. The black guys came over beside my and rubbed their long dicks on my cheeks. My Master dials my number and gives me the phone. My girlfriend picks up. 

I told her I wanted to break up and that I never wanted to see her again. I hated to be mean to her, but it was only way to get her believe something that was this out of the blue. I told her she should've spent more time with me. My Master looks at me and tells me to tell her the real reason or no more cock.

"Tell her you're a cocksucking faggit slave who's found a master. Tell her what you've been doing for the past few days," he commanded.

I couldn't disobey my Master or the newly erect black cocks that were pressed up against my face. I told her, "I've discovered the power cock and I don't need you anymore. I've become a cocksucking faggit slave. I've been on my knees sucking my Master's cock for the past five days. All I really want is a nice big cock in my mouth. I have to go now and suck some dick. Good bye." 

She was crying as I hung up the phone. I didn't care. I now totally and completely belonged to my Master and that's all that mattered. I had no will but the will of his cock. We both knew it. I looked at my Master as both of the black guys pointed their incredibly long and hard erections at either side of my face.

Then my Master said,"You have my permission to suck both their cocks."

Immediately I took both of their dark fuck tools in my hand and began to swallow the one on my right. My head bobbed back and forth on it wildly trying to take more and more of the monstrously fat cock in my mouth each time. I firmly held unto the other black dick in my hand and slowly stroked the entire length of it's shaft as I furiously sucked the one in my mouth. Then I switched and sucked the one I had been stroking while giving a hand job to the cock that was dripping with my saliva. Both their tools were so big. I had to stretch my lips to get it all in my mouth and I couldn't even take their whole length in my mouth. Hell, I gagged just taking three fourths of it in.

I alternated between the two black dicks. At certain points they would grab my head and force me to suck harder and deeper till I choked on their man meat while yelling stuff at me like "Take my meat you little bitch! Suck my dick you little white bitch!" I loved ever minute of it.

Then my Master interrupted and pulled out his own hard cock and said I needed to suck that too. I had both black cocks in my hand as my Master walked toward me with an erection that already had precum on it's head. He wiped the precum on my lips and then I took his cock into my mouth. The thought of this cock being in my mouth for the rest of my life was a good one. I sucked his cock and then one of the black guys said, "Hey, our dicks are feeling deprived here, faggit." 

My Master pulled his cock out and they formed a circle around me. I took turns blowing each one while the others were in my hands or rubbing precum on my cheek. I went from cock to cock faster and faster as they their growns of pleasure grew louder. Finally my master pushed me away and they all rapidly jacked their raging hard-ons right in front of my face. I opened my mouth and closed my eyes. I felt a stream of warm cum shoot in my mouth followed by two more stream that simultaneously hit my upper face and mouth. More cum barrages followed which drenched my face completely in warm gooey, man jizz. I swallowed the massive loads I had in my mouth. They all zipped up, leaving me with a thick mask of cum on my face. 

The black guys left while telling my Master how good his little cocksucking bitch is and that they want to come back sometime for more. My Master agreed. He closed the door and threw me a towel telling me to clean up, he wanted me to give him a nice long individual blow job now. I obeyed. This would be what it was like for the rest of my life, on my knees with a cock in my mouth. The life of a slave. What could be better? 

The Power of Confession



This happened a few months after I moved into Oliver's apartment. He had wanted it; I hadn't felt very sure. I'd lived as I pleased for several years. In fact, I'd never shared a place with a man. More important, to me, then, domesticity implied dreariness. I didn't think I could stay excited by, or exciting to, a man I woke up with every day. I also worried that my messy personal habits, my habitual lack of foresight, and the emotional chaos I took for normal wouldn't sit well with Oliver's quiet, methodical personality. To me, at that time, being a submissive meant something crammed into a few very intense hours at a time, after which I would flee back to my solitary footloose life. I wasn't at all sure I had what it took to adapt to somebody who wanted someone more durable.

But living with Oliver had gone surprisingly well. Sexually, his tempo was different from mine, to say the least. My fuse burns in minutes if not seconds. His could sometimes smolder for days. I had to learn to trust that my needs would be well and truly met, but only when and how Oliver chose. I missed the excitement of the hunt for a new partner. I missed not being able to masturbate on impulse. I missed the color and drama I had known with some other men. Oliver dressed conventionally. He used bedroom words in the bedroom, but otherwise his speech was educated and courteous. He never raised his voice. He did not use--in fact would not tolerate--drugs. Ditto for pornography. He had no interest in costumes, appliances or toys. He didn't even own a simple flogger. He just used his large hands and thick fingers, his belt, his ties, my underpants, clothespins, kitchen utensils, whatever might be around the apartment. (Once he turned me, arms tightly bound, upside down in the laundry hamper for savage cunnilingus.) He was physically powerful, and when he was good and ready, sexually tireless. There were times I lost count. I always slept deeply afterward. Little by little, I learned to adapt my restlessness to Oliver's slower, steadier, and stronger pace. The longer I had to hold back, the more earth-shattering my release would be. It was the first time in my life I had lived with any kind of sexual discipline and, to my surprise, it had reinforcing as well as frustrating aspects.

Beyond the sex, being Oliver's live-in slave led me to a new kind of pride in myself. I had to remember to pick up after myself and to do the household chores as he wanted them done, but I found I didn't resent this. On the contrary, it made me feel useful to somebody. Up to then, I had never been able to feel that way anywhere in my personal life, only at work. I also discovered a previously-unknown inner reserve of patience. Oliver liked get me very aroused and then leave me tied and kneeling in a corner for two or three hours, "ignoring" me. I started to take a perverse kind of pleasure in it. I remember feeling almost high kneeling there and thinking, "Why, if he wants it, I could go on doing this forever!" It had always been easy for me to excite a man, but keeping a man excited about owning the rather worthless person I felt I was--that was new for me. With Oliver, I felt that my not-so-exciting inner self, which I had consistently fled by seeking excitement, had a place, too. He was the first man I was intimate with who seemed to want to know everything about me, the dull and confused and damaged parts as much as the sexually explosive ones.

I had a regular office job. Oliver worked on contract and he sometimes had substantial periods off, which was the case when this happened. On my working days we got up, I showered and dressed while he made coffee and breakfast, and we ate. Then, often but not always, he used me sexually in some quick, simple way--I'd kneel in the kitchen and blow him, or he'd throw me on the couch and jack himself off between my tits or thighs. That was our version of a "goodbye kiss" for the day. It always happened when I was just about to leave for work. (I allowed time for it). It excited him to make me go out tasting his semen or feeling it in my underclothes. I got to like leaving home that way. Sometimes when I got to the office I'd go to the ladies' room and open my shirt or my skirt just to smell his cum warmed by my skin. I'd want badly to masturbate then, but I needed Oliver's permission for that.

When he wasn't working, Oliver would have a simple dinner ready when I got home. We'd eat, talking casually—he insisted that dinner be relaxed. After dinner came what, again quite unexpectedly, turned into my favorite moment of the day. We called it "confession" just to give it a name, but it wasn't as gothic as that makes it sound. He'd sit, I'd kneel in front of him and put my hands on his knees. With my eyes down, I'd recite my challenges and failings during the day—in fact, any feelings I felt I should share with him. I had never done this kind of thing with a man, and at first it was difficult. I felt so self-conscious and didn't know how to put things in a way he'd think made sense. For me, intimacy had always been physical, not verbal. But then I realized—Oliver never had to say it, it was just in his manner—that was the point: I was supposed to feel childlike and vulnerable. I was supposed to stumble around and look sort of helpless and trust that he would understand whatever I was trying to articulate. And I began to realize that I liked how I felt at those awkward moments. I liked it a lot. I felt little and protected, and at the same time, very daring. That is the most perfect mixture of feelings there is, and it had been a long time since I'd been able to feel it.

Of course, in confession I had to admit any violation of Oliver's rules or instructions, even any temptations to violate them, but he made clear that I was to stick to facts and never try to use confession to get punishment started. Sometimes he'd punish me for something I confessed. But sometimes he said I was being too hard on myself, and instead of punishment would give me an exercise, like thinking of ten reasons, apart from sex, anybody should like me. That turned out to be better than physical punishment, because it prolonged the wonderful intimacy of kneeling at his feet and telling him whatever came into my head. I'd ummm and giggle and struggle to put into words things I had worried or wondered about. Sometimes, I'd burst into tears, which was (then) another new thing for me. Oliver wouldn't help me with any of this. He'd listen silently (but I never had to look up to know how thoughtfully!—he was always all concentration in anything he did) and let me work it out at my own pace. He never questioned or contradicted or pointed out my inconsistencies. This time was for me. I always felt I'd be letting him down if I didn't try my very best to reach—and to say out loud—the whole truth about myself, however chaotic or pathetic it was. Nobody ever gave me a better gift than that.

Sometimes confession would lead directly to sex, but usually not. That wasn't its purpose. Occasionally, though, when I finished my confession, especially if I was crying, Oliver would ask if I was wet. If I was (and I usually was), he might suggest that I masturbate. It took me a while to understand that he wasn't seeking excitement himself. He didn't feel like sex right then (and he had always been clear that I would never get any charity fucks). He was concerned about me, and wanted to help me unwind. Before Oliver, I had never masturbated in front of a man who wasn't aroused himself and who didn't expect to get in on the action. It took me a while to get used to the idea, but when I did, like so many other things I learned with him, it made me proud that I could let go and do it. A sudden feeling of abandonment to this new kind of intimacy would sweep over me and I'd come quickly—if he permitted, several times. A few times he decided to turn me over and fuck me right there, but usually he'd just smile, tell me to lick my fingers clean, and then go do something else. Whether anything sexual happened or not, confession always made me feel light and restored—I had told Oliver everything, I was still in one piece, and he still wanted me!

One of Oliver's rules, which is relevant to this story, was that I had to treat his cum with great reverence. If he came in my mouth, I was not to swallow unless he gave permission. If he came in my cunt or my ass, it was to leak out, run down my butt and thighs, and dry in place. I was never, ever to wash or wipe it off, or even to touch it with my fingers, without his permission. Sometimes, relaxing after coming, he would scoop it up on his finger and spread it gently on my nipples, or over my lips, like gloss. The first time he did that it took my breath away. I felt we had suddenly tumbled to a whole new level of intimacy, better even than fucking, because it was such an unexpected way for him to share himself. I had always loved the feeling of a man's warm cum, anywhere. Oliver's don't-touch rule only strengthened that pleasure. It made me feel I was being allowed the privilege wearing my lover on my skin.

On the morning it happened, I dressed for work was usual. I wore a black sweater, with a dark red scarf knotted around my neck. Oliver seemed a little preoccupied at breakfast, so I assumed there probably would be no "goodbye kiss" that day. But just as I was putting my hand on the doorknob, he came up behind me. "Kneel down," he said. I did. He pulled out his already stiff cock and began using my mouth. At the last moment he pulled out, stroked himself, and with a gasp sprayed jets of cum all over my face. Oliver was a big man and he came like a stallion. It handed in my hair, splattered over my glasses, hung on my nose, cheeks and lips, and stained my scarf and sweater. A few drops even fell on my purse, which I had set in front of my knees. In all, it was Oliver's usual very thorough job. He had me lick him off. Then he leaned against the wall, breathing a little heavily, and said, "You can go now."

I thought he must be joking. "Like this?" I asked.

"Like that," he said.

I was flabbergasted. While Oliver used me roughly in the bedroom, in any other setting he was a perfect gentleman. When we went out he treated me like a princess. He would have taken a swing at anybody who bothered me. How could he want me to go out in public looking like this?

But he did. "Go," he said.

I was dismayed, and I'm sure my cum-drenched face showed it. If he'd only let me clean myself up, I would have left for work with a singing heart because my lover had just had the pleasure of unloading on me. As it was, either I went out into the building, the elevator, the sidewalk, the subway, looking and feeling like some drunken slut, or I broke Oliver's rule. I got to my feet slowly, stared at him, and when I saw his face was impassive, left the apartment.

On the way down the hall, I suddenly stopped dead. Cloudy patches on my glasses blurred my vision. Cum dripped off my chin.

I couldn't understand why he was doing this.

I couldn't take the elevator—OK, take the stairs. That's it—just dawdle till it dries. I could take my sweater and scarf off. That might be skirting the rule, but maybe not breaking it. But what about my glasses? I couldn't work without them. Both lenses were badly smeared. It would show all day. There was no way that wouldn't be noticed at bitch heaven. There might be remarks--behind my back, there certainly would be. There had already been a crack or two about my promiscuity before I knew Oliver. Nobody grudged me the sex, but they'd think I must be drifting into some kind of odd mental place not to clean myself up.

Once in the stairwell, I leaned against the wall, still flabbergasted. This was unfair. Oliver could do whatever he wanted to me in private, but how could he ask me to shame myself with people he had never even met—people I had to see every day?

I raised my hand to take my glasses off, then hesitated. I had deliberately broken some of Oliver's rules before, and taken my punishment. I wasn't very afraid of him in the physical sense. Other men had put me through more than he ever had. But I respected Oliver more than anyone I had ever been with, and now I needed what only he did for me.

It finally occurred to me that this was a test. He wanted to know how strong my loyalty was. I needed to pass his test, to be able to come home and kneel in front of him with cum stains still visible on my glasses and proudly tell him how hard it was for me to hold my head up all day, knowing what people were thinking, but I did it for him.

At that moment, the landing door crashed open and a neighbor I vaguely recognized rocketed through it. He was obviously as startled to find me leaning despondently against the wall as I was to suddenly be face to face with him. In a rush of mortification I realized Oliver's cum was still glistening on my hair, my skin, and my glasses. I threw my hands in front of my face and quickly pushed past the neighbor back into the hall. He said something I didn't catch, probably worried about me, but maybe he thought the better of getting involved with a distraught, disheveled woman on an empty stairway. His footsteps faintly echoed away down the stairs.

I realized I couldn't go through with it. I simply could not walk out into the city pretending I didn't have cum on my face. I was too proud. Or to put it another way, too insecure. For a few moments I stood there in the hallway confused about my dilemma, and angry with Oliver for creating it. How could he do this? I'd submitted to everything he had ever asked, had never given him a reason to doubt me. This was going beyond the tacit limits in our relationship. I had a ripping feeling of regret that I'd ever moved in with him. If I'd kept my own place I would have a refuge, a safe place, where I could at least go and think it over. Now I had no place to go, except the office, or back to his apartment, and his rules.

I didn't have any time to think, and I could see only two choices. One was to clean my face and glasses, go to work, confess that night, and take whatever Oliver decided to do to me. The other was to go back to the apartment right now, confess that I couldn't go out this way, and take whatever he decided to do to me. I realized that I couldn't get through the whole day with the sick, guilty feeling that I'd broken his rule, after he had obviously set up a test to see whether I would keep it or not. So the better choice was to get it over with. They'd have to get along without me at work.

I knew I was in for a lot of punishment. Oliver might be testing me, but I suddenly realized that he was also testing himself. He wanted to find out just how tough he could be with his disobedient slave. He wanted to find out how far he would go to make me regret not doing as he had ordered. That's why he dared me either to violate his sacred cum rule, or to face what he knew I dreaded: the world's silent, pitying derision. He expected me to break his rule. And he planned to follow through with the logical consequence of that. My punishment wouldn't be the nice, companionable kind that led to an ecstatic fuck. It would be long and bitter, it would involve real pain, and it wouldn't end with sexual release.

But . . . Oliver knew that none of that was what I feared most. What I feared was being made to feel like a rejected child. He'd been much better than other men at using sarcasm, coldness, and the occasional touch of degradation, because he understood my vulnerability. He did it, though only lightly, because he wanted me to know that he knew how much it could hurt. It had made me trust him, but now that trust was yawning like a black hole in front of me. He had given me so much help facing myself and living with my great inner heap of self-rejection. I had come to live, not for being fucked by him or by anybody, but for kneeling at his feet and telling him whatever I felt. I loved being allowed to dry my eyes on his pants then masturbate so he could watch me relax. If I never had any other sex life, as long as I had that, it would probably be enough. But the corollary was that Oliver had more power over me than I had ever given anybody else. He had become my rock, my hope of being understood by somebody in this world. I hadn't exactly intended it, I'd just let it happen. Now, because of it, he was in a position to crush me, if he was angry enough. And why wouldn't he be angry? Any master who set up a test like that, and who wasn't angry with disobedience, would hardly deserve the title.

Suddenly, I was afraid of Oliver—gentle Oliver, whom I had always thought lacked the fire of other masters.

I started walking toward Oliver's apartment, quickly now. I wasn't confused or angry any more. I would do the only thing I could: stand upright before him, showing him I hadn't touched his cum. I would say that I hadn't broken his rule, but that I would not go out this way. And I would not apologize for it. It was my choice how to play the card he dealt. Let him now do whatever he had to. If I had to lick up a mile of his piss to get back to that blissful, tearful kneeling at his feet, then I'd do it. There wasn't anything else I could do.

I heard a door open around the corner, then shut. The hell with it--one neighbor had already seen me like this, and there was nowhere to hide anyway. I would just look straight past whoever it was. I didn't really know any of these people. What did it matter what they thought?

It was, of course, Oliver himself who turned the corner. He didn't seem surprised to see me. We walked back to the apartment silently. He opened the door for me, and I went in. I turned in the living room and faced him. There didn't seem to be any need to say anything. We looked at each other. His face was relaxed, but as hard to read as always. I don't know what mine looked like, but I know I had never before felt quite as alive as I did at that moment. It was the first time in my life I had felt a relationship with another human being that was beyond craving and beyond fear. I felt ready for anything