10 comments/ 50664 views/ 16 favorites Subdom By: SWinters "Repeat after me," she said. "I am never 'obnoxious.' I am entirely lovable, delectable, and delightful... however I feel." Allie laughed. Screwing up her face in imitation of a five-year-old having a tantrum, she cried, "I won't! You can't make me!" She got all the way through, "Shut up, you're not the boss of me" before breaking into a grin. Diana didn't laugh. She tightened her hold on Allie's shoulders. "I am lovable. I am delectable. I am delightful. Say it." Still grinning, Allie told her, "All right, you've made me feel better. Thanks." When Diana didn't release her, "Chill. It's all good." Up close, Diana's gentian eyes showed a rim of deep brown around the iris, so dark it was almost black. There aren't that many people in the world with truly blue eyes. Usually they're blue-gray, or blue-green, or contact lenses. Allie still wasn't used to seeing Diana like this; little physical details kept catching her off-guard. "I'm not letting go until you say it." "Really? Really?" She sighed. "Oh for crying out loud... OK. I am lovable. I am—what was it?—delectable." She smiled. "I'm delightful, I'm delicious, I'm de-lovely." "Nope." Diana shook her head. "You're not even saying it as though they're words. You're just parroting sounds you think I want to hear, like you can fool me into dropping it. That crap might work on a dom—if he's really thick, or off his game—but I'm sub like you, Allie. And I've been doing it a lot longer. I know all the tricks." She leaned closer. "Even the ones you haven't thought of yet." "I never claimed to out-sub you, babe. You're queen sub of the subdom." "Say it." "Sure you're not finding me just a little bit obnoxious right now?" They'd known each other for months. Wait—it was over a year now. Well over a year since that first e-mail from a woman half-way around the world, responding to the very first story Allie ever posted. She'd received other e-mails, and responded to them all, but this one woman had written back again... they'd become friends, in the strange, unpredictable way that individuals occasionally do through the technology that everyone kept whining was isolating people from one another. They both wrote about sex, and they read each other's writing; there had never been anything sexual between them, not really. Allie assumed that Diana was pretty exclusively straight, so she didn't worry about her intentions being misread. Their correspondence was marked by growing mutual affection, offering edits and suggestions, swapping ideas, encouraging one another, exchanging jokes, commiserating. When Diana mentioned that her academic research would be bringing her to a city about fifty miles from where Allie lived, she didn't immediately assume they'd meet, but as her travel date grew closer, a few "ifs" and "maybes" were tossed back and forth. Their tentative inquiries about actually getting together crossed in cyber-space. Allie had driven down so they could get together for coffee. They'd spent a fabulous couple of hours walking and talking, poking around a few antique shops, getting comfortably lost in a used-book store. As they were retrieving their bags from the front counter, Diana asked if she'd mind if they stopped by her room so she could change into something cooler. The temperature had been in the low sixties when she'd dressed that morning, she said; who knew it would be in the eighties by mid-afternoon? Everyone who lives here, Allie laughed; and thinking nothing of it, accompanied her back to her hotel. Diana stepped into the bathroom to change, which Allie didn't take personally; everyone had different levels of comfort with dressing in front of someone else. After about five minutes, though, she called out, "Girl, what are you doing in there? Getting an extreme makeover?" and Diana came out wearing a cotton skirt and a big men's-style shirt, tails tied at her waist. "Oh, sweetie, take your time," Allie apologized. "Don't mind me. I'm just irretrievably obnoxious at times." That, as they say, is when the trouble started. Now a slow, grim sort of smile bloomed on Diana's full lips as she stepped in closer, her grip hardening. Without realizing it, Allie took a step back. Another, as her friend continued to advance. Her heel hit the wall behind her, startling her. She should say something. Diana probably didn't realize the effect she was having. It wasn't fair to let her continue, not when Allie could feel her own response to those hands, those eyes... the things beginning to happen in her body were not, she was sure, within the boundaries of their friendship. Diana's voice dropped lower still as she brought her mouth close to Allie's ear. "You know how to act obnoxious. You're a good little actress, I'll give you that." She closed the last scrap of distance remaining between them, her willowy-looking body warm and full of unforeseen strength. OK, maybe she did realize. Maybe she knew exactly what she was doing, far better than Allie did. "You can act obnoxious, and bossy, and tough. But you are not. You," she breathed, and she bit Allie's neck gently, "are," biting again, a little harder, a little higher, "sssssssoft," hot breath in her ear and the full weight of her pressing from shoulder to thigh, a strange firmness at Allie's groin, rubbing against her sex, drawing a gasp from her throat. "Packing? You're packing? What kind of straight-girl sub are you?" "Aren't you the one always spouting queer-theory dogma about busting up the binary and questioning the categories?" "Well, yeah..." struggling for words as the hardness at her crotch found a gentle insidious rhythm, "but... that was... before you... you... pinned me to a wall with your cock." Diana chuckled in a way that sounded positively feral. "That's the kind of sub I am, Allie," the motion of her hips unrelenting. "The most committed kind. I'll do whatever it takes. You're trying to change the subject. I told you, I know all the tricks." Her mouth went to her captive's throat again, tongue probing, teeth just grazing the sensitive skin. "Soft... and sweet... all the way to the center." A wordless moan. Confusion. Warmth radiating into heat blossoming outward from the place at her core where those words seemed to pulse into life, glowing brighter as the mouth on her throat became more demanding, bringing another moan, and another. "Oh, hear that? That soft, soft moaning? That's what you are. Soft." A hand left her shoulder, moved to her breast. "Sweet." Fingers caressing swelling flesh over panting breath. Stroking around, seeking out the point that hardened beneath the blouse and bra, fingernail raking through the fabric, making her cry out, quietly. "Even this," closing around it, inescapable, "this hardness here... surrounded by softness. And you feel it inside, don't you? The harder it gets, the softer it makes you... softer, and sweeter, and softer still..." "What..." Allie rasped. She couldn't seem to make her voice work properly. "...what are we... what are you... oh gods" as those merciless fingers gripped harder and she felt the flood rush out of her, drenching her. The other woman stepped back, less than an inch, just enough to create a breath of space between them. "Take down your pants, Allie." Eyes fixed, voice immobilized, she stood. "Take them down." "I... you..." She shook her head, more in befuddlement than refusal. But she couldn't have done it even if she wanted to. Diana's gaze was implacable. Unwavering. She knew she was still breathing because she could hear the sound of air coming out of her mouth. She clamped her lips together, forced herself to breathe through her nose. It didn't help. "Allie." That didn't help either. "Sweet Allie. I know you're stubborn. You don't have to prove that to me. But I can stand here longer than you can. Do you have any idea how long Robin has made me stand, waiting, wanting, craving him, his touch, his cock? Hours, Allie. You're beautifully strong. But you're going to run out of adrenaline soon, and very quickly after that you're going to get very tired. And the only way you're moving from this wall is with your pants down." Still. She couldn't move. Could not. "It's all right. You can do it," coaxing now, gently, "You can. Undo the button," her hands moved to the front of her trousers and the button was open. "Pull down the zip." Her hands obeyed. "Slip your fingers under your panties," barely a whisper now, "... push them down... over your hips, that's it... let them fall. There. There. That's it." The air felt cold on the bared wetness coating her sex, her thighs. Diana reached beneath her skirt, slid her underwear down and off. She gathered up the fabric in front and tucked it into the waistband, exposing the tool she wore strapped around her. A tiny portion of Allie's brain observed that at some other time, in some other context, the incongruence might have made her laugh—not in derision, but in delight. She loved the unexpected, the juxtaposition of images conventionally perceived as opposites. Discourses of power, expansion of the imaginable, explosion of constructed categories... it all ran out of her futilely grasping brain, like sand from a split bag, leaving her mind empty and every bit of her awareness focused on the aching hollowness brewing, coiling, wracking her cunt. Unable to look away, she watched one hand come up to hold the black phallus, fingers running fondly from base to tip, slipping back to guide it closer. Stopping just before it touched her sex. Pulling it upright so it rested between their bellies as she pushed her hips against Allie's once more. Stroking her hands up over Allie's legs, along her sides, one hand coming behind her neck to bring her mouth to hers. Kissing girls was something Allie knew how to do. Grateful to be on something that felt like familiar ground at last, she slid one arm around Diana's waist, her fingers finding the small of her back and pressing in gently, intending to trace them up alongside her spine, knowing how a woman is hardwired to shiver under that sort of touch. But the hand behind her neck tightened and Diana's other hand pushed her arm out and away and then those fingers were back at her breast, finding her nipple, scraping across and flicking, pleasure streaking from that point to the one between her legs, a whimper escaping her throat. Her face burned as she heard it. Diana broke the kiss; the feral smile returned. "Blushing! Oh, Allie... tough girls don't blush like that," rolling the nipple between finger and thumb as her hips pressed harder, her cock still between their bodies, the base sliding between the slick folds to rub against the very top of Allie's clit. "Don't come yet," Diana's voice hard as bedrock. Allie took a deep breath and seated herself against the pleasure boiling up inside her, pushing it down, obeying without thinking. She felt the pressure increase and undulate as Diana rolled her hips. "Yes... look at me, Allie... I love this. I love how you feel. I love how wet you are for me. Do you want to come, sweet Allie? Do you want me to fuck you with my cock?" "Yes... yes, fuck me..." "Mmmm... I love that. I love hearing you say that. Say it again." "Fuck me... please, fuck me..." "Oh, yes... lovable. That's what you are. Lovable." "... please..." "Say it." "Please fuck me..." "Lovable, Allie." The fingers released her nipple to take hold of the cock rubbing against her, guiding it between her thighs. Stroked its hardness across her soaking flesh. "I. Am. Lovable." The rigid shaft gliding gently back and forth against her sex as Diana thrust her hips again, bringing forth another hot gush. "Step out of your pants. Spread your legs for me. That's it. Now... say it. Say it, Allie." "I... please... just..." Cock poised at her entrance now, circling, driving her mad. "I can do this all day. All night. I love this. That look on your face... hungry, starving, so unbelievably sexy. I love that look. Love it. I'm not a guy, Allie. I don't need to stick this in you. I'm getting off on this, right here." Allie groaned. Excruciating need roared through her. "Oh, Allie... I love how much you want my cock. I love how you're dying for me to fuck you. Lovable. Say it for me. Lovable," just the head of the shaft stopping, probing imperceptibly at her opening, words coming up from her cunt and out of her throat, "I... am... lovable," panting out the words and filling her all at once sliding up in deep, hard, she cried out, cried out again with the fucking fucking fucking all the way inside her in the softest sweetest center of everything she was. She came before she knew it was happening, spasming uncontrollably around that cock still fucking into her, fucking the softness, defenseless against the insane pleasure it poured into her, the base stroking across her clit and the curved end working that spot inside, the one she could never seem to reach herself, working it more and more and she was burning up, coming again, spread open, pinned to the wall, mindless, exploding, again... ***** You are NOT a closet sub! No... you're definitely not sub. I can't think of anyone less likely to submit to anyone or anything than you. It all made sense to Allie. She wasn't a control freak, exactly, but she liked making her own choices. She'd worked hard, years ago, to achieve a sense of empowerment, of agency in her own life. Besides, these were the conclusions of people who had a lot of experience in the Dom/sub arena, while she had exactly none. She accepted their statements as expert opinion. None of the standard icons did anything for her. The idea of wearing a collar didn't scare her, it just made her giggle. Calling someone "Master" or "Mistress" seemed patently absurd when she tried to imagine it. She understood that those things did truly work for other people... sometimes she envied them, just a little. It would make things simpler, she thought. She definitely had no interest in being treated like a piece of furniture or a vassal that only spoke when spoken to. Someone who couldn't keep up with her when she was free to say what she liked wasn't anyone she wanted to have sex with. The thought of having her hands tied was exciting, though. The couple of times she'd tried it with a partner had been fun, and arousing, although not... quite... everything she was hoping for, but she certainly enjoyed it and would have liked to try it out more. She loved giving her partner pleasure; it was one of her favorite things about sex. She was fine with initiating, though of course it was nice when the other person started things up sometimes as well. It was just that... when it came to her own ability to orgasm, it always involved something inside her that was different. A little internal struggle, a wall to be breached or a defense to be overcome. It was only recently that she had come to identify it as surrender. Allie had always needed fantasy in order to make herself come. In her mind, she could usually create the circumstances of that surrender, that final giving-up or letting-go she needed. She had a fertile imagination and she loved to read erotica, so she never suffered for lack of masturbatory material. No one had ever told her, while growing up, that it was wrong or dirty or shameful in any way, so she had been free to become quite good at it. Almost everything she learned about her own sexuality was through independent study. When she could, she applied the knowledge she gained to her relationships. When she couldn't, well, that's what her right hand was for. For years, she figured that was enough. ***** "Have some water, use the toilet. Then go get on the bed." Allie looked up at her. "Diana. That was... incredible. Mind-blowing. I loved it. Thank you. But I think... I think that's all I can take, for now." Diana laughed. "Oh, sweetie, trust me. We've not even begun to approach the borders of all you can take." She ran one finger down Allie's nose, brushed her bottom lip with a thumb. "Get moving." Cracking open a bottle of water from the honor bar, Allie poured half of it straight down her throat. She didn't care if it cost four bucks; that's probably what the hotel owners counted on, she thought wryly. Unplanned sex followed by thrift-eradicating thirst. Three hundred percent mark-up supported by rampaging lust. Whatever. Right now, in this moment, it was worth it. When she came out of the bathroom, Diana was sitting on the side of the bed, the spread thrown off, sheet and blanket pulled down. Two pillows stacked in the middle behind her. "Take off your shirt. Bra too." She made no move to remove her own clothing, skirt still tucked up into the waist in front. Allie hesitated. She really didn't understand the forces operating here, urging her compliance, except that she knew she wasn't a coward. Marshalling her courage, she stripped off the garments, tossing them onto a chair as Diana watched. "Over here now. Face down." Moving awkwardly, Allie climbed onto the bed, turned as she'd been instructed, pillows beneath her pelvis. Tried to find a comfortable position, the beginnings of fearful vulnerability sending seeking fingers out from deep inside as she settled down, ass raised. Focused on breathing. She opened her eyes to see that something had appeared in Diana's hand. A long, broad, flat, stainless-steel kitchen utensil with a wooden handle, the kind short-order cooks used at the griddle. "Where did that come from?" "Junk bin. At the second shop. Bought and stashed it in my backpack while you were looking at the burger-franchise glasses." Diana looked smug. "Eighty-five cents. Robin's going to be thrilled." She turned and sat back on her heels, the implement in her right hand, her knees level with the pillows on which Allie rested. "You can guess what comes next, can't you?" "OK. Wow. Um..." Allie drew a deep breath. "OK. Start... start slow?" "Of course." A hand caressed her spine, making her arch involuntarily. "Have you never been spanked?" She didn't know why that question should make her blush. Resisting the urge to turn her face away, she made herself answer. "Not in real life. So no. This, I've never done. I've fantasized... a lot ... done some exploring with... a friend... on the phone, you know. Just never... never..." "Never had your bare bottom spanked, good and hard." Her cunt spasmed. "This is... we're kind of getting into... unfamiliar territory." "It's OK. I'm an excellent guide. I know all the best spots." "Um, yeah." An uncertain sort of laugh broke from her. "Hope so." Diana's arm swung up in a graceful arc; the flat of the utensil struck her bare ass with a sharp crack. "Relax. Don't tighten up like that. It only makes it hurt more." Without moving, Allie squeaked, "Isn't it supposed to hurt?" and heard Diana's gentle laugh in response. "Oh, it's going to hurt, trust me." Her fingers ran lightly from the small of Allie's back down through the crack of her ass, making her shiver. A whimper scalded her face again as it slid from her throat and those fingers dipped lower, coating themselves in her wetness, back up to tease the tight ring before continuing to retrace their path, slowly, sliding deeper between her cheeks, gently opening her. "But it will hurt so much better with these muscles loose. Let go, Allie. Come on." Struggling to release her lungs, squeezing her eyes shut, she blew out her breath, let it return... sank into the bed. Relaxed her knees, her thighs. Allowed the other muscle groups to follow. Felt her legs fall open a fraction more. Forced herself to concentrate on the sensation of the bed sheet against her mouth, the warmth of her breath coming back against her face, fixing herself firmly in the present so she wouldn't tense up in anticipation of what she knew was coming. Subdom Subdom Inspired by Jace's Trapped Note: If you prefer this story to be between two females, copy the text to a .txt file, open it in notepad, ctrl-H for "Master" and replace all entries of "Master" with "Mistress". In a darkened hotel suite in Dubai, dozens of floors up in the air, a laptop is clicked open. It flickers to life. The desk is bathed in an LED glow as a shrouded figure assembles the reagents for a ritual. A smuggled '01 Merlot. Two glasses. A bottle of her perfume. And a framed photo. Through these items any weary traveler in the 21st century may venture across continents and oceans in an instant, feeling the warmth of hearth and home, the affection of another, all through the subtle power of human sentiment and memory. Oh and Skype. That's needed too. A couple of clicks, and on the screen a woman appears, dressed in jeans and an ironic t shirt. For a second the figure catches her alone, anxious, expectant, fiddling with her phone. She's young, early to mid twenties, with a face unmarked by lines or wrinkles. But dark rings around her eyes belie her sleeplessness before this moment- Yet all this quickly fades away as a jubilant smile spreads across her face. Long lashes flutter bashfully as she looks into the camera. Its daylight where she is, and the gold of her choodi, bangles given by her mother on that auspicious day, shine brightly as she brushes away dark, wispy hair from her eyes. "You promised you'd call two days ago!" "I know! I'm sorry baby, but- with the construction boom... there's been troubles with the workers again, and its been hard trying to mediate between them and the company. What's more, the reformist Labor Minister's got her new Equal Work, Equal Rights initiative, and she's sent someone on my case to make sure we're compliant- even though its Aspyr-Architecture whose illegally modifying contracts.... A sigh. "Its just that-" "It wasn't my choice to work abroad, and I'd rather not leave you there all alone, but.." "I know, sweetie I know. Just one more year, right?" "Yeah, just one more year." They fidget uncomfortably, before the darkened figure begins to speak. "So... how's the week been?" "Alright... my PI's been really hard on the team to try and find a gram negative version of last year's bacterium prototype, you know, so that its more resistant to pollutants, but they just won't take up the plasmids. I'm not the only one whose thinking it might be better just to go public with the prototype. Resistant or not, the oil spills from the Typhoon Zidjian are still there, and they'll definitely eat away some of it." "Dubai" laughs. "What?" "Nothing. Its just here I am, staring at someone whose literally saving the world, while I complain about bureaucrats." "You flatterer you. Its not just me you know-" "But they wouldn't have even found out about it if you hadn't been mucking about in Tijuana two years ago." "I just got lucky with that find! And the only reason I can work on my PhD because you're putting up with that shit." "Anything for you babe." They smile warmly at one another. Again, "Dubai" breaks the silence. "Isn't that convention coming up?" "For Saeheron Online? Yeah, I'm so stoked. I'm still working on my costume though." "You know, you're so busy, I don't know why you don't just order them-" "From one of those shifty auction dealers? No way! Besides, cosplay is all DIY. You may be dressing up as someone, or something, else, but its your own labor of love." "Well I'm not arguing with your hobbies, but we both know there's companies out there that-" "Yeah yeah, but cosplay's about a mix of who you are and your character- I don't want to wear a mask to the convention. And anyway, it arrived." "San Diego" bites her lip and looks off camera. "What did?" "Don't play dumb! We both know what I mean. Did they send you your stuff?" "Yeah, a bluetooth remote, and some software. I installed it." "I got some software too, with the main package." "Did you install it?" "Yeah, couple hours ago. It should be in your taskbar after opening it. Ctrl U to link." They reach for their keyboards. In San Diego, a remote is heard buzzing from in front of the "Dubai". In Dubai, a muffled beep is heard off screen from "San Diego". "Ah, well, its good to know that works..." "Hang on, that wasn't a complete test. Don't you want to meet Valerie?" "Well I haven't heard the full details of your week, I mean we haven't spoken in-" "I could just send you an email. Besides, its late over there, yeah?" "Yes, but" "I want to do this. For you." "Are you sure?" "I know I'm new to this, but I want to be her... she looks so strong, so powerful." "Dubai" leans back into the darkness, before pulling out the cork and pouring a glass of wine. "Alright baby. Go and put it on." Grinning madly, she skipped off camera as the figure sipped in expectation. When she reappeared, she had tied her beautiful, silky hair under a hairnet, and in her arms was what appeared to a partially deflated sex doll. She sat down on the couch in front of the camera expectantly. "Strip." "Yes, Master." Her girlish smile replaced with doe eyed obedience, she stood up and pulled off her T shirt, freeing her stiffened nipples. Reaching down, she undid her Triforce belt buckled and let her faded skinny jeans fall to the floor. Impassively, she slid down her panties. Her vacant expression was only broken as she tenderly removed her mother's choodi, the most earnest expression of who she was moments ago. "Good. Do you know what you are about to become?" "Valerie, Master." "Is that it? Just Valerie?" "I'm sorry Master. Mistress Valerie." "Better. Now who is Mistress Valerie?" "42. Unmarried. Educated at École Polytechnique. Graduated with honors. Worked for the International Court of Justice in the Hague, pursuing war criminals." "And why do you want to be her?" Again, her impassive expression broke as her eyes began to look away from the camera. "She's strong. She stands up for what she believes in. She doesn't let uncertainties get in the way of what needs to be done; just takes charge." "Good. Now put her on." "Valerie" came in two pieces, a bodysuit and a full head mask, with a brownish blonde wig attached via velcro. As the thinner neckpiece of the mask was designed to fit underneath the neckpiece of the suit, it had to go on first. With a ripping sound, Valerie's medium length bangs were removed from her rubber head. The girl who was to become her hesitated for a moment. "Are you afraid?" "A little, Master." "Then put it on." Shutting her eyes and opening her mouth wide, she stretched the rubbery face over her features, grunting and gargling as the mouthpiece was fitted deep into her throat. Eventually the wrinkled rubber of the mask smoothed out. Looking away from the camera, the girl quickly zipped the mask closed, before fastening the wig onto the velcro. Straightening it out with a flourish, she turned to face the camera for her Master's inspection. The woman on the monitor bore little resemblance to the girl beneath. Fair skin, marked with a few freckles of age and sleep lines around the eyes contrasted with the youthful, blemish free olive skin that it covered. A narrow, pointed nose fitted over a cute button one. Defiant green eyed eyes over playful almond ones. A strong jaw held together an angular face with defined cheekbones- tightly encasing an oval one underneath. It was hard to believe this was all just silicone and rubber. "Valerie" may have been merely cute once, and was still undoubtedly beautiful, but this was a woman with poise and command as well as grace. She sat staring, eyes fixed and slightly narrowed with a casual expression and thin blood red lips curled into a smirk. "Can you speak?" "Mmgh" "Good. Now finish your transformation. That head does not go with your body." Nodding dutifully, the girl reached for the Valerie skin. Standing up, she unzipped the back, and clambered in, feet first. With some unsuppressed grunts of frustration, she struggled to align her legs with the suit, but manages. "Dubai" looks at the remote, and reconsiders. Not yet. One thing at a time. "San Diego" takes care to align some unseen devices before pulling up the rest of Valerie's skin. A muffled moan. They fit. Then the arms, fingers probing for their new sockets, playfully dancing for the camera. Now the nails, given life by the girl underneath, moved up to close the suit's neck over that of the mask. Once this was done, she reached for the zip, and all trace of the her underneath disappeared. Valerie's body had pale skin, like her mask, with a few moles and lentigo here and there. She had broad shoulders for a woman, reflecting her Gallic ancestry, and was athletic in build; her hips were still womanly but on the narrow side. Despite her age, her breasts remained firm, round, and perky- she had never had children. Utterly naked, "Valerie" kneeled in front of the camera, squeezing her bosom between her arms for presentation, still incongruously acting like the girl underneath. "What are you doing, girl? Do you desire praise? Stand up and dress yourself- and then you will have no need for praise." With a small obedient bow, she reached for Valerie's clothing, folded neatly in a box off camera. Elegant black heels matched dressy black pants for her long, slender legs. A white cotton blouse, sleeves rolled up, under a black ladies waistcoat, buttoned. A black leather choker to hide the zip and seal her in. Finally, with care, the girl reached for the finishing touches of Valerie's ensemble- thin half frame glasses and a silver crucifix, nestled inbetween the opened buttons on her blouse, just before her cleavage. Now fully dressed, the girl sat back, hands in her lap, mentally preparing for what was to come next. "Dubai" reached for the remote, and pressed the Green Button. Suddenly Valerie's eyes blinked from their fixed expression, and began to scan the room. Left to Right. Right to Left. Up and down. Methodically, they tested their range of sight. The mask was starting to come to life. Yet the eyes are the window into the soul, and "Dubai" saw behind Valerie's animatronic green eyes a girl's giddy jubilance at the functioning of the sensors and microservos. Ah well, two steps forward, one step back. Smirking inwardly, "Dubai" pressed the Blue Button. A gasp, as the curled lips opened up to allow air through to the girl trapped underneath. Exploring her new face, the mask contorted into exaggerated expressions of laughter, joy, anger- even curling into a surprised O. Without a doubt the girl was having fun as she reached for her phone to admire her new countenance. "Having fun?" A muffled response. "I can't hear you." "Yes, Master. I'm sorry Master, I-" "Do you like your new form?" "Yes Master." "Do you like her elegant, serious face?" "Yes Master." "Her graceful, powerful body?" "Yes Master." "Would you like to be fucked as her, right now? Some rubber facsimile of Valerie? Some inferior copy of this mature bombshell of a woman?" "Yes Master! Oh, I want to throw off these clothes and crawl naked on the floor, lead by a leash like a pet in this body. Be taken roughly in my tight rubber ass by anyone– I'm not strong enough to be her, Master. You might as well gag me again, because I'm just a stupid whore in a mask. I can't be Valerie." "Dubai" grinned evily into the camera. "I don't believe you." "What, Master?" "You're lying. You can, and you want to. Brace yourself." Two fingers dance over to the remote as a look of feigned terror spread across Valerie's face. With cruel determination, one landed on the Red Button, and a loud buzzing noise caused "Valerie" to wince in pain. The other grazed the Pink Button, before depressing it for a moment. A different frequency buzz, and "Valerie" moaned in ecstasy. Only one button left. Fingers danced in the air, illuminated by the monitor light, before landing firmly on the Orange Button. A loud click from somewhere underneath the mask was all that signified the change, as "Valerie" still had her eyes firmly shut from the recent stimulation. Slowly "Valerie" raised her head up to meet the camera, blinked, and a cruel sneer reappeared on her rubber face. "So... you're that merde who left Erika all alone, aren't you?" Erika's muffled, girlish voice was gone, replaced with a clear, throaty, deep French accent- Valerie's voice. "That's one way of putting it. Hello Valerie." "Don't speak to me as if you know me. You know I hate your kind." "Oh?" "You think you are so... cool, you Americans, with so much bloated amour propre. Traveling the world, libre marche economique, exporting coca cola and apathy... who cares who is left behind, who loses, as long as you make a dollar, yes?" "I'm not doing anything wrong." "Oh but of course! Mr Hussein is such a sweet angel, who bleeds for his workers and staff- as long as they do first world jobs at third world wages, no? "If not me, someone else, madame. What does this have to do with Erika?" "It has everything to do with Erika, you shit. Leaving her all alone like you did, expecting her to wait like some stupid courtesan, desperately awaiting whatever messages you can deign to throw her way, in between your three martini lunches in Dubai." "Its only for a year- and she doesn't seem to mind." "Doesn't seem to mind? Oh I loathe how right you are. Before I met her she spoke the world of you... and then I began to make her see." "Make her see what?" "The truth... verite. That you are a shit and she deserves better. Me." The sneer twisted into a haughty laugh as Valerie laid back, supremely confident and in command. "You?" "Yes. You are always gone, you cannot provide her with the attention she needs." "Where is she? What have you done with her?" "Oh she is locked away, tight. You won't be seeing her again, you don't deserve to. Only I can satisfy her wants, her desires. Only I deserve her submission." "And what do you have that I don't?" "Aside from this killer body? This sexy accent? I will tell you, though I doubt you will understand... I am a mature woman. I have seen the world, and seized my place in it. I have faced Tyrants, Killers, Despots- and they have all been crushed underneath my heel. You do not compare." "Dubai" leaned back, and took a long sip of wine to steady nerves. Picking up a treasured picture of Erika in one hand, and the remote in the other, the darkened figure prepared a final rebuttal. "Oui mais... non" "Your mangled French does not impress me." "Whatever it seems like... I love Erika. No matter how much distance is between us. Our love is real. You are but a... façade." "Again with the-" Not waiting for Valerie to finish, "Dubai" held down the Red button, sending voltage thousands of miles away to the the girl trapped inside Valerie. Screaming and shaking, "Valerie" grabbed herself as her tender womanhood was shocked, arousing her and incapacitating her at the same time. "You... arrgh, PIG" "What's that?" "You.. can't do this..." "Oh yes I can." "AHH! You fucking... shit, ummfh" "Come on, Valerie. We can play nice." "FUCK YOU" "You know, swearing's illegal in the UAE.." A finger danced on the desk over the Blue Button. With that singular click, Valerie's ceased her venomous taunting as she lost control of her lower facial muscles. Tiny servomotors came to life, forcing her enraged expression into the comparatively placid smirk that the mask originally bore. With her mouth shut, all Valerie could manage were desperate, frantic moans in her French accent. She grabbed her face desperately, trying to find an override on the mask. "Ah, that's better." "Mmmgh!" "Oh don't give me that look. I was perfectly prepared to have a friendly conversation... you know I do worry about leaving Erika alone and I wouldn't mind if she met other people... I love her, and I'm only here because I want her to be happy, you know?" "mmmgh.." "And really, you seem like a very capable woman. I mean I like Erika's friends but I don't know how reliable they are. She could do with someone at home she could trust, someone to hold her when things don't go right and I just can't be there all the time, even online." "MGGHHH! MMMMM!" "Oh stop with those pleading eyes. You've faced worse at the Hague." Valerie stared at the camera in desperation as the stimulation edged her closer to orgasm but would not provide it. With a cruel grin and a finger still firmly pressing down the Red Button, down went the Green Button with a click. The big green eyes of the Valerie mask ceased their crying and moved towards a look of serene calm, greatly in contrast with the feelings and thrashing of the woman underneath. "That's better, no? Have some dignity, you're a grown woman!" "mmhhhmmh!" "Its been fun, Valerie, but I think I'd like to see Erika again." Lifting up two fingers, "Dubai" firmly pushed them down on Buttons Pink and Orange. Now physical stimulation, vibration, was added to electrical stimulation, and the pleasure component of the sensations wracking the woman on screen was increased. From the moment the Orange Button was pressed, Valerie's deep moans became Erika's youthful, girlish moans, high pitched but no less desperate, despite the serene look on her mask. "Hey babe." "mmmggh!" "I'm really sorry I couldn't call you earlier." "MGGHHGH" "I met Valerie-" "mggh!" "She brought up some good points." "MMMMM! MMMMGHH" "I really owe it to you to.. change my behavior. How I've been treating you." "arrhffggm" "I'll make time every week. Even if I can't be there physically with you, I won't let you worry." "Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm" "Will you accept my apology?" "Valerie" nodded her head furiously as she shook on the couch. "I love you Erika." Finally the Red Button was released, and all that was being transmitted was pleasure. Her moans became less desperate as she grabbed her breasts underneath her blouse and sank to her side, fully intent on riding the waves to her long delayed orgasm. Eventually she came, clenching all over as the blonde hair of her wig fell in front of her masked face. For a time she just lay there, panting from her long distance fucking. "Dubai" finished off the '01 Merlot. "Do you want out?" "Valerie" nodded. Buttons Blue and Green were simultaneously pressed. The woman underneath the Valerie suit gasped for air and gave the camera a satisfied, slightly forlorn smile with the Frenchwoman's face. Eventually, Erika sat up straight and readjusted her blouse. After wiping down her face with a tissue, she gave the camera a bright smile, appearing completely normal- at least, in a sense. None could guess from this image that this woman had just orgasmed moments ago- but then on again, neither could anyone guess that underneath was a completely different girl, nearly twenty years younger. "That.. was amazing. Thank you." "It was my pleasure! You can take it off now, if you want-" "mmm, not really, hah. I've got the whole day over here... I love being encased in rubber, as you know. Besides, I think she's really pretty in way- don't you?" "She's gorgeous! I mean, you're gorgeous- you're both gorgeous... I haven't played dom in a while, so I'm sorry if I was-" "No no, you were great! I'm really glad I stumbled on your search history..." "Well I just never knew you'd be into it so I never..." "You'd never know if you never asked.. or if I never found out." "Perhaps... but your performance was incredible!. How'd you come up with Valerie?" "I didn't. I picked today to lock myself inside her because I don't have to go out. She's a lecturer for International Law with the Political Science Department." Subdom "Wow. She's real?" "Yeah. I always thought she was pretty hot, I mean I doubt she's into this sort of stuff... and I don't think she'd react very well to seeing her double walking around town." "You had a class with her?" "Yeah, as an undergraduate... hey, about the things she said-" "I totally agree. I really hate being away from you, and you deserve better. Listen, no promises, but after the contract's settled I think I can head back to San Diego for a few days." "Oh my god, when? Next weekend?" "No promises! But I'll give you an update when I can. Though..." "What?" "Can Valerie show up at the airport?" A mischievous smile spread across Erika's rubber lips. "Pig." Subdom "Good girl. Beautiful. Just like that." whack! "That's it. Open. Open for me." whack! oh gods the sting and the sound of it, the rebounding pain rushing back up to the surface whack! whack! "Open up. Soft. Soft, Allie" whack! heat building, whack! whack! overwhelming, whack! raging, she couldn't keep up whack! "That's it" whack! tearing through her everything whack! "don't try to keep up" whack! gods how did she know she whack! she let go, whack! let it take her, whack! dropping down, dropping everything as the fire beating her flesh burned through her, whack! consuming, insatiable, the rhythm of the blows feeding it "Fuck, that's so gorgeous, I could just devour you," never slowing, never missing, "love you loving it, say it, tell me how you love it, want it, beg for it" "Yes! yes... yes" incapable of words other than that one she was sobbing over and over the blows becoming harder now, moving into a slower, heavier cadence as all resistance was obliterated, moving with the metal, meeting it, sucking in the bursting flames exploding against her bottom "Fucking delectable. You feel it, I know you do, tell me," more and more heat, coalescing, dark blazing through her "yes... yes oh... yes" "Tell me, Allie. Tell me you want more." "More... yes oh more..." ragged sounds tumbling from her "Fuck that's so good, delectable, say it, tell me" Moaning, sobbing, "delectable," certain the word was unintelligible through her gasping incomprehensible pleasure pain but she must have said it clearly enough because then fingers filling her and one firm stroke across her g-spot and she came, screaming long and hard into the bed, coming, hot liquid squirting out of her, unable to stop it, so thoroughly helpless and wide open that she came again, couldn't stop coming. ***** She really hadn't planned any of it. When she spotted the utensil in the shop, it was with her customary eye for funny or unusual doodads. Diana had enormous affection for old things, castoff things, innocuous things discarded as worthless that could be put to use in ways that would surprise or even shock the original owners. She couldn't wait to show it to Robin. They were fairly ass-over-tit for one another; she loved the dark, rich timbre of his dominance, which was complex and layered, far beyond mere thrill-seeking. Most of all, she loved how they fit together, how they called out the best in one another. How their desires interwove so that his pleasure in dominance roared into mind-annihilating lust to dominate her, because it was her; how her desire to submit became an overwhelming, all-consuming need for him, because it was him. She loved that he loved her toughness, her ability to take as much as he dared dish out; she knew he loved it when she pushed back, even to the point of allowing the occasional switch. That was what led to the purchase of the strap-on; he'd bought it for her. He swore up and down that he didn't get anything out of having his ass plowed, but that he loved the pleasure it gave her. It didn't matter to her why he loved it, just that he did. She had lived long enough to have no need to dissect the goose; she relished the gold it delivered, tending the soft living thing with care. She'd never deeply delved into what it was he enjoyed so much about giving her pain. She wasn't wired the same way he was, so she didn't understand how it worked for him; but that difference wasn't any greater than the basic difference between male and female. They cared for one another, acted honestly with one another, sought one another's pleasure and welfare. She knew they were blessed. Allie seemed to accept and acknowledge all this with an endearing curiosity that never questioned its validity. Like Diana, she had no wish to kill the golden goose; but she had a knack for examining the strange creature without disturbing it, handling it with loving interest and respect. This was the quality that so drew Diana to her in their early correspondence: there was something liberating about Allie's oddly matter-of-fact sense of wonder and discovery. Dressing herself in the strap-on was a spur-of-the-moment whim. She had thought of showing it to Allie, maybe, if the conversation turned that direction, if it seemed like it wouldn't freak her out... just show it to her. She was kind of shyly proud of it. She thought it possible that Allie would understand that, would congratulate her daring to cross boundaries. As she changed clothes in the bathroom, the wild idea crossed her mind to put it on and just wear it around, under her skirt, not saying anything, carrying it like a delicious secret, perhaps telling her as they said goodbye, or even waiting to tell her later, in an email, knowing how it would make Allie laugh and berate her good-naturedly for not letting on. It was pure dumb luck that she was wearing close-fitting boy-shorts-style underpants, which would keep it snugged up against her, so it wouldn't blatantly show under the full cotton skirt. What happened next was just... well. She couldn't have articulated what she wanted when she first pushed Allie to the wall; she just wanted, and somehow her body knew how to go after it. She knew, because she knew. She'd been living it for years now. Every cell of Diana's body knew what she wanted: to see Allie succumb to her own desire at Diana's hands. To touch the quivering vulnerability that lay just beneath every word she wrote, or spoke. The rush of making Allie crazy with longing for something she didn't understand, something she didn't want to want, was outrageously intoxicating: she'd never felt anything like this as she watched Allie's face flush furious crimson, her eyes lose focus in sweet defeat, her entire being become utterly possessed by carnal craving for what Diana had, what Diana held, what Diana knew. The high was unbe-fucking-lievable. ***** Allie felt the pillows being pulled out from under her; cried out as Diana covered her with her body, anchoring her there, the strap-on settling into the crack of her tortured bottom, cold against the burning flesh. She shuddered; coughed, and shuddered once more, stumbling into the rhythm of breathing, more quietly now, slowing, taking comfort from the weight pressing into her, the hand gently rubbing her scalp, the wordless soothing sounds murmured into her ear. At last, her body easing. At rest. The weight holding her shifted a bit to one side and Diana's cool hand slipped beneath her, cupping her, gently. Not moving, not entering. Just holding her. She sighed. "Allie?" "Mm-hmm?" "I have a question. Are you up to it yet?" She sighed again, blissful. She'd never felt more relaxed in her life. "Sure." "What did you think, when you actually saw the strap-on, under my skirt? What ran through your head, in that first instant?" "I was..." grinning into the mattress as the word formed itself, unbidden, "delighted. It just... delighted my queer soul. How did you know?" "Because I know you. You're full of delight, Allie. It's one of the things I like best about you." Her fingers began to move. "Oh," Allie breathed. "Oh..." Spreading herself over those sweetly stroking fingers she was rising, cresting, rolling over the edge, falling, collapsing into orgasm easy as dropping into a big comfy chair at the end of a long exhausting day, melting down in pleasure expanding through every last nerve ending. "Oh. Yes." She moaned, freely this time, in fulfillment and release and "Delight..." shivering with aftershock rippling through her, "I am delight-filled." Diana shook with silent laughter. "That will do. For now." ***** Twilight was falling as Allie reached for the towels Diana had wisely stacked on the bedside table. She rolled to one edge of the bed, Diana rolled to the other, and they both spread them out before turning back together on top of them. Diana stroked the sweat-soaked strands off her forehead, but she didn't ask what she was thinking. Out of sheer gratitude, Allie told her: "I've just been thoroughly dommed by a sub. So what does that make me?" Diana kissed her lightly. Ruffled her fingers through her hair. "A sub, Allie. Exactly what you were before. A sub." She grinned. "Lovable, delectable, and delightful." Subduing a Cunt I am late, why doesn't matter, but when I pull up to what must be the trashiest motel in Beaumont, Texas I know that I am 30 minutes late-- and getting later, because I don't want to get out of the car. The shorts and tank are bad-- a woman my size shouldn't wear things like this ---AND not with three inch pumps; heavy make-up, chipped nail polish, two sets of heavy hoop earrings. Jesus, the whole outfit screams "slut". I waste five more minutes before wiggling my ass into the office and paying for a room. How did I end up being the one to pay for it? It must have amused you greatly to have me attend to that detail. I leave a note for you with the desk clerk- making sure not to fold it; your slut is in room 128. "In for a penny, in for a pound," I think, smirking a little to myself. In the room, and boy there is not much to it, I quickly do what I would have had an hour to do if I had been on time. Stripping and setting aside the horrid outfit, lubing my cunt and ass for you, emptying my bladder and kneeling to wait. It is not a long wait. You, of course, are right on time. And you are not smiling. The door shuts and you grab my hair, tugging to a corner of the tiny room. "Hands and knees, now." I don't question you, but move to all fours as fast as I can. You are moving around the room now, setting things down, moving them. "What time did you get here?" ah, hell. Two loud smacks on my ass. "I don't know. I was late." Several more hard blows push me forward onto my face, "I know. I called the desk and only a man had checked in by 10a." I turn to tell you what I think of that, but another two strokes paralyze me. Jesus, it wasn't your hand. I am not willing to look and see what it was. A sharp jerk to my hair and you are telling me to bend over the bed. Shoving my face hard into the fabric. I am already shaking and trembling. Your hand finds me wet and swollen. I am both excited and shamed that you know. The pain is exquisite, I can not count--- only breathe and still myself. Accepting the pain, welcoming it. Pain that I associate with Master, always pain and pleasure with Master. You are not angry. You would never strike me in anger, but this is meant to hurt and it does. You are very, very good at hurting me when it pleases you. When your hands move to my hips, I try to raise my knee onto the bed. Your hand stops me, caressing my thigh, moving my leg to where it was. Ah! god, you slide a finger in my ass. I hate that. Oh how I hate that. I know what is coming now. You shift your weight, I can feel your heavy arousal against my thigh. Your fingers spread my ass wide. I cry out as your cock slides home. On the second thrust I feel your hips slam against me. My calves tighten as your cock forces me onto my toes. Moaning into the bed I whisper, "Master, Master" as you burn my asshole with your heat. You are reprimanding me for my tardiness, for my dishonesty. I am only nodding and grunting with each thrust. Little broken sounds and whimpers are all I can manage. My body sags with relief when your cock withdraws from me. I want to crawl after you to the bathroom and beg your forgiveness. I hear water running and sounds that I cannot decipher at all. Now you are pressing against the back of my thighs, pushing me to my knees on the bed. Pressing hard against my cunt. It feels like your fist, Master. There is no gentleness about you at all, and I am truly afraid for a moment. When you have the object lodged in my cunt my feet are pulled down to the floor again. I still do not know what is in me. But my cunt feels stretched to the point of tiny tears along my vaginal wall. Sharp, panting breaths and I can just barely stay on top of the sensation. It is too close to pleasure to be pain, so clear and penetrating that I can feel it in every part of my body. When you grab my ass and spread it again, I have to fight the urge to crawl up the bed. Your heavy cock invades me, one slow inch at a time. You are stroking my back now, telling me how tight and sweet your slave's ass is. My make up is smeared across the sheets; sheets that are wet with my tears. You are fucking me harder now, faster, but not so deeply. Desire is snaking through my abdomen, my hands clutching as it pools deep in me. You have filled me so completely, Master. The thin wall between my cunt and ass is alive with sensation. Two heavy objects rubbing in tandem. It is mesmerizing and I discover that I can move now without searing pain. Slowly I start to move my hips. When you do not stop me, I am bolder and try to meet your thrusts. I can feel your balls brushing my thighs and your hands still stroking the long column of my back. You stop then. Abruptly moving from me. I am trembling with need now. Plastic? Why the hell do I hear a plastic bag? I keep my head buried in the bed, willing to trust you. A blunt edge rubs across my bare cunt. Circles my asshole-- up the inside of each thigh. What the hell is this about? Then the object in my cunt jumps and jerks. Almost pulled out and roughly shoved in again. I am screaming as you fill my ass with your thick pole again. Incoherent sorts of babbling, broken phrases of Master and please. The contrast between your demanding cock and gentle hands nearly undoes me and I can feel an orgasm curling down my spine. So close, so close. But the object in my cunt is too big and painful for me to actually cum. Begging now. You steadily thrust in my ass. I am begging and pleading for you to make it better, to "fix it, sweet Master make me cum, please." You do not answer and you do not stop your relentless pounding. In and out, clean, smooth strokes. So deliberate, Master-- so controlled. I do not feel in control of my own response at all. My breathing is heavy and erratic. Pleading when I can gather the air to do so. I am insensible with the pain and the sharp pleasure, with the glory of your Mastery over me. Still the pounding, fucking. Your hands curl now into my neck and insistent fingers move between my teeth. Before long I am drooling and licking at the tips of two strong fingers. The other hand presses my neck forward as you continue fucking my ass. Your voice in my ear, "I own you. Your cunt is mine. Your ass is mine. Your breath is mine." I expect you to squeeze my neck to make a point, but you do not. Through the fog in my head I know it is because you do not need to. I know I am yours. There is nothing I wouldn't give to you, Master. I am hardly aware when you remove both objects from me, and roll me to my back, tugging my hips to the edge of the bed. More swipes across my skin with the dull edge. I am too far gone to wonder what it is. The sweat standing on your skin is so erotic. I want to lick you dry. Ah god, and then you are in my cunt. I can feel my flesh closing around you. How can you fill me so well after stretching me, Master? I am afraid I will not be able to feel you, but it is the same glove-like fit as always. Only my fuck hole is so sensitive to every movement. I imagine that I can count your heartbeats as you pull my legs up and settle into against the back of my thighs. My ankles rest at your right shoulder and you begin to pound me with all of your weight. More babbling and then I cannot even think to make noises. The first orgasm steals through me without warning. I watch with glazed eyes as you smile and thrust a little more slowly: the only concession I get as I slip into that place where I am molded completely by your needs, your demands. Your cock shifts smoothly to my ass. Oh Master, it is so good. So good. My head thrashes from side to side. You shift again and press a finger to my clit. All the while moving smoothly in and out of my ass. I tighten my abdomen, trying to draw myself father up, to give you greater access to my hole. You oblige me by spreading my legs farther, one on each shoulder. All your weight comes forward and you begin to fuck me in earnest. I love the set of your mouth, the direct gaze that draws me into you, Master. I do not move at all as your hand comes down over my mouth and nose. One, two, three strokes. When your hand moves away and your cock is withdrawn I cry out, "No!" Your insistent hands press my thighs farther apart. It is a cup, a stupid plastic cup and you are scraping my skin with it... the slit of my cunt and my exposed asshole. "Push" I am bewildered by the command. A hard jab with the cup rim, "Slave, push the precum out of your ass." I do, at least I think I do. You only grunt and set the cup aside. When you return and motion, I obediently open my mouth. I hate that ball with a passion. It is set a little crooked in my mouth and I cannot get it adjusted before you press the tape to my face. My jaw will ache like hell tomorrow. "Now," you admonish, "be quieter." I nod and drop my eyes. You use my legs to drag my ass a little farther off the bed. Pressing my legs overhead you tell me to wrap my arms around my knees, and grasp my wrists. I cannot reach quite that far. It is uncomfortable, limiting my breathing capacity and straining my neck, and my ass and cunt are so vulnerable to you. You are wrapping tape around my hands while I consider what this position will allow you to do. There are two, no three fingers pressed into my cunt, stretching me, tearing my swollen skin before I realize that not only am I gagged, my fingers are not free to snap or signal in any way. You have left me without any means of communicating. My face, as always, shows everything I am thinking and you shrug and smile, before adding your second hand to the busy, stretching and tugging of my cunt lips. I manage a guttural sort of cry. It is hard, spit collects around my tongue as I struggle to make noise and I realize that I cannot swallow with my jaw stretched so wide. My breathing shortens and the first fingers of panic shoot through me. Abruptly your hands leave me and hard slaps rain on my tender thighs. Not so fast that I cannot cope, but steady and loud in the room. Ah, the sting is incredible. I do not think I can tolerate this new torture for long. I can see it is a fly swatter handle when you raise it into my field of vision. Who the hell decided that was okay? It is too painful. I focus on outlasting Master, breathing even and deep, calming myself. Working through each slap, absorbing it, developing gratitude for it, surviving it. Each of the last three slaps is each punctuated with a quiet warning. Trust - Me - slave. Oh Master, I am burning. A fiery mess of stripes that you are caressing now. Yes, yes I nod-- under control once more. 'Yes, I trust you,' conveyed with the serenity of my expression, the laxness of my body, the evenness of my breathing. Once more, fingers enter me, stretch me-- two, three. I feel my cunt give into the demand, enlarge to accommodate your hand. One hand fucking my cunt, the other roaming across what must be raised welts left by your discipline. Trembling takes me by force. I cannot stop shaking. So helpless now. I am frightened and excited by it. My back tries to arch as Master adds his last finger. Thumb against my tender spot at the apex of my cunt, I know he must have filled me until only the back of his hand shows. I would scream if I could. Relentlessly pressing deeper and deeper into me. The hot liquid trickling in little drops down my crack is surely blood, as his hand stretches and tears me. Invades my exposed fuckhole. He does not pull back, or ease the pressure. But reaches around my thighs to pluck and tug softly at my nipples. I feel my cunt open to him and know the minute he has curled his fingers into a fist. I want to squeeze hard, to hold his hand in me as he starts to fuck me slowly. There is no muscle control at all. I cannot flex or relax anything. Master controls even that. I wish that I could see his wrist buried in me. The fine, dark hairs pressed to my bare cunt. When he pulls his fist out again and punches forward I feel wet fluid pouring from me. Sweet god I can't tell if I have cum or peed. I feel too good to be mortified at the puddle forming beneath my ass. Your fist is pounding now, hard and sharp. Punching my womb and sending pain radiating through me. I am frantic to get my hands out of the tape, to shove the gag from my mouth and beg for mercy, to wiggle away from the assault. I cannot see through the red haze of pain. This time I know I have cum, as my cunt spasms in pitiful little movements that have no effect on Master at all. He is fucking me with his meaty fist and pinching now and again the sore stripes from the fly swatter. When the fist is abruptly pulled from me, I scream deep in my throat. My cunt feels like it must be gaping open, empty, bruised. I cannot even gather a mental objection as the cup scrapes again. Cleaning fluid from my cunt, my raised asscheeks, the sheet beneath me. I know that before the day is over I will drink from that cup, probably beg to drink from it and thank Master prettily when I am done. The tape is removed from my arms, and you help from the bed. I am hopeful that you will remove the ball from my mouth, but you only direct me to assume my position. I do: kneeling, thighs wide, hands behind my head, face pressed to the floor, thrusting my ass out obscenely. I wish I knew what you were doing. When you call, "Come, slave," I scramble onto the bed. I wait patiently while you take the tape off and happily spit out the ball when you tell me to do so. My jaws ache, it is good when you tell me to lick you cock and balls. It seems unlikely that I could take you in my mouth right now. Lapping softly, humming to myself. You have a beautiful cock, Master. Burying my nose against you and inhaling deeply. It feels good to breathe easily and your smell is so erotic. My hands knead and stroke your hips, thighs. Scooting under your ass to cup and hold your cheeks. I can taste my cunt juice on you, too. Your breathing is so even and deep, I wonder if you are sleeping. You must not be, because when I leave off licking and kissing you to take your flaccid cock into my mouth, I am cuffed sharply on the head. Without protest I go back to stroking you with my tongue: bathing you like a mama cat. I want to snake my tongue across your asshole. Again when I move from your balls and cock, you hit the side of my head. Not hard, but I won't indulge myself any more. Singing a soft lullaby in my mind I lick until my mouth is dry and my neck aches. You murmur soft encouragements now and then. Telling me it feels good and patting the crown of my head. Your cock stays in that fascinating in-between place... not quite hard, but aroused. Nothing I do coaxes a full erection from you. I think that maybe you are sleeping again. Finally you send me to the restroom to take care of my needs and have a glass of water. I move quickly, and do not try to shut the door, although I would have preferred it. When I return you toss four strips of leather to me. "Wrists and ankles." I sit and start at it. The leather is soft and feels good on my skin. I am slow at buckling because my hands are shaking. You squat and help me with the last one on my right wrist. I cannot seem to get it. And then draw me up to a standing position. Your cock is stirring again and I am reprimanded for staring at it. My gaze slides away reluctantly. I like your body and watching you tugs and pulls at my secret places, arousing me so, Master. You turn me and draw my arms behind me. My wrists are attached together and then you wrap a fifth strap around my throat. It is not too tight, but I will not forget it is in place, Master. Your finger slides beneath it and you pull me to the side of the bed. "Down, slave." I kneel quickly and you press me forward until my face rests in the pillow laid there. The same blunt object as before is pressed into my cunt. It goes easier now and I welcome the mild pain it brings. I try not to tense as you slide another object into my ass. It is a plug, and not a very large one. I am glad because the two items together are intense. I know I am blushing when I cannot keep the plug in. You pop my ass mildly and replace it once. The second time your hand holds it tightly to me and I hear tape torn from a roll. The cool tape is pressed to my ass and holds the toy securely. I am grateful, that I do not have to strain to keep the plug in now. At your next words, I stretch my legs out from under me. Moving slow and awkwardly, very conscious of my full ass and cunt. I wish my arms were secured a little more loosely now, they hurt around the rotator cuff already. Uncomfortable, but not unbearable. Before long my ankles are somehow connected and drawn up towards my arms. What was a mild sensation in my cunt and ass; intensifies in this new position. This is not comfortable at all. Two hands set my chin on the pillow, face straight ahead. Soft fabric covers my eyes. You are careful not to get my hair caught in the knot you tie. When you ask, I tell you that I cannot see anything. Pressing something into my mouth again. I fight a bit, my jaws ache and I am so helpless now. You are persistent and in the end, I grudgingly accept the object in my mouth. I take a few deep breaths through my nose and experiment with swallowing, as you tighten something behind me and raise my legs a little higher. The pillow is more of a hindrance than a help. If I relax too much my chin slides deep into it, and fabric obstructs my nose. I wonder if you know this. I turn my head to the side and rest my cheek. You reposition me wordlessly, patiently; with my chin in the pillow, face straight ahead. I feel like a small child, frightened a bit and forced to trust my Master to keep me safe. "Now, slut it is time for a nap." I hold very still and listen. Your body is settling on the bed, I can hear you shifting around and then unbelievably it is quiet. You really expect me to stay in this position. I can hardly believe it. I can hear your breathing, the sound of traffic outside, the squeaky wheel of a housekeeping cart and some off-key lyrics sung, no doubt, by a cleaning woman. Each time I relax my neck the pillow fills my nose. I wonder if you are watching, if you can see me struggle. I am so frustrated that I have no way to move the pillow from under me. And I wonder how the hell I will let you know when I am too tired to hold my head above the fabric any more. Did you intend this when you put it there... I thought you were being thoughtful. I am sure that very little time has passed, it has already been too long for me. My arms are the worst. I can shift a little to one side or another and ease the burning, but it never really goes away. I count slowly in my mind to ten, and then backwards to one again. Each time I reach one, I allow myself to shift something, to swallow, to take a few deeper breaths... and then I settle in to count again. I know you can last much longer at this game than I can, Master. I hope you are not really asleep. I can't have been on the floor very long, when my head lolls forward again. I carefully turn it to one side and experiment with breathing. Ah, yes, that hurts my arm more, but I can breathe just fine and it eases my neck a bit. Breathing has become very important now. I focus on control, not too deep or I start to feel panicky. No longer sure that you would respond if I tried to communicate my distress somehow. Maybe that pillow was purposeful; Master is not the type to miss a detail like that. Maybe you like watching me struggle. I wonder if you would let me pass out before helping me. I wonder if I could stand that without going mad. A tug on my scalp sets my head back where you wanted it. Well, I think, if not watching constantly... certainly checking off and on. The waiting is unbearable. Except that implies I have a choice. I don't, at least about the waiting. I shift a few times more and start counting again. Comforting myself with the rhythm in my head. A few times soft noises escape. Usually when I get to 'one' again. "Slave, you are too noisy." Funny, I can sense that you are not looking at me when you talk. "Are you comfortable?" ha! Is that a trick question? I shake my head no sharply. I feel your toes against my waist when you make adjustments that allow me to lower my legs. I want to yell at you, arms, asshole! arms. I work a few squeaky sounds out, hoping you will attend to my pillow. Your answer is several strong blows from your open palm on my ass. Holy Moses that hurts. A broad strap is settled in my hands. I am holding my own legs up now. Well, damn that is diabolical. But you do nothing that eases my breathing. I hear you settling again into the bed. "I want you to think about your place, slut. And quit trying to get my attention. It is nap time." I nod yes even though you may not see. My arms are in agony now and my ass cheeks sting. I think a minute about the sensation of your open palm so hard on me. With my cunt and ass stuffed I thought I might cum by the third or fourth blow. I wonder if I will tell you that later, or keep it as my own secret. Damn, damn, damn we never discussed this and I wish you would amuse yourself some other way. When the only sound from above me is steady breathing and my neck is cramping from holding my chin up, I start to cry. Not big gasps. I can't afford to breathe that way. Just silent tears, absorbed by the soft covering wrapped over my eyes. I sing in my head the longest song I know. Each time I reach the chorus and the highwayman comes riding-- I remind myself that I am yours. Master's. Your slave, your slut, your dog, your silly bitch trussed up and lying on the floor. And if that is where you put me, then it is where I belong. When the English look to the priming and Bess can see hell through one dark window I am no longer crying or angry. My breathing is unhurried. By the time the highwayman shrieks curses to the skies I am ashamed of my impatience, and resolved to wait with a good attitude, however long that is. I no longer mind the burn in my shoulders, because Master put it there. My head has fallen into the pillow a few times and I hover at the edge of sleep. Subduing a Cunt Sooner than I expect you ask if I am ready to get up. My body trembles in response. I hope you take the gag off first. Instead the connection between my ankles (somewhere along the way I dropped that strap) is loosened. I think you must know what hurts the most because you do nothing about the gag or my arms as you pull me by my shoulders to kneel. Wrapping your arms around my chest and shoulders I feel you lift me... what a terribly odd sensation. I am not a person anymore, just like a piece of furniture or something. When my feet touch the floor it is cool, maybe the in the tiny bathroom. You tell me to squat. If not for your presence behind me, I would have fallen when I did. My muscles are protesting loudly now. The tape rips at me as you remove it, and the plug shifts a bit. "Empty yourself, cunt." Your hand is still at my shoulders, supporting me. "Now" I manage to force the plug from my ass. I am glad then that I fasted and cleaned myself so well for you, Master. I would have hated it, if I had made a mess. No matter what I do, I can not empty my cunt. You press me forward until I am on my knees. Now I can tell I am in the shower stall. I try again, but my cunt is not my own anymore. I can't figure out how to push the damn thing out. After a few more attempts you press my head forward until my forehead rests on the tile wall. I raise my hips and you obligingly remove it. It is almost funny when you tell me to pee. I don't have the control to release water anymore. That strikes me as terribly funny. I would laugh if it weren't for the dumb gag. I shake my head no several times, and you help me to my feet. Leading me back to the carpeted area of the room. I groan with relief when your hand touches the back of my neck where the gag is secured. "Your choice, cunt. Do I release your mouth or your arms?" I shake my head yes, yes. I want both and soon. Your hand presses down on me. "Answer yes or no... your arms?" With great reluctance I shake my head no. "The ball?" Yes, yes, shaking my head clearly. I want to say thank-you when it falls away, but my mouth doesn't obey my brain any more than my cunt did. It seems to take forever for my tongue to lick my dry lips. I swallow when you place the water bottle to my mouth. You lead me until my hips and belly press against something hard-- the dresser or tabletop. Your chest is against my back, hands trailing along my abdomen. I can feel your breath in my hair and your arousal hot and strong behind me. I welcome the pain when you pinch tightly on each of my nipples. It warms me and wets my cunt again. Cupping a boob in your wide palm, you raise it to my chin and command me to lick, to bite, to suckle myself. I am quivering in anticipation when you tell me to hold it tightly between my teeth. I bite hard and you remove your hand. "Don't let go, slave." Your hand pats softly on my other breast. The slaps becoming firmer and harder. I know my skin is rosy from your attention. When you are satisfied you remove the nipple from my mouth and replace it with the other. Repeating the same series of gentle pats building to stinging blows until I know both tits are hot and red above my areolas. Finally you place clamps at the tip of each breast, hard around the fleshiest part of my nipples, and place cold metal in my mouth. I must be holding each tit straight up from my body. I can no longer feel the weight of my flesh, and the pain is tremendous. Soft panting, I think of relaxing and accepting Master's pain. Making it a part of me, defining me, shaping Master's whore into an instrument. I raise my chin higher, sweat sliding between my tortured shoulders. Making sure the soft underside is exposed fully for Master. The first taps are from your hand, little blows from your fingertips graduating to full blows of your palm. My titties are warming to your attention now. You warn me and then switch to my favorite wooden paddle. That pain is immediate. A stinging burn radiates from each blow. I am proud that I do not let the chain clenched between my teeth fall. You are not delivering the blows with hard strength. I know that you are warming my breasts up for something. Cunt juice coats my thighs, and I rise a little on my toes to try and rub against the surface I am pressed against. When you release the clamps and remove the chain I thank you in soft, whispery breaths: for the pain, for the burn, for taking such good care of your cunt. You move to release my arms. It takes a few minutes of fumbling and I get more and more anxious. Each time you pause I am afraid you have changed your mind. Now that the possibility of release looms, I am frantic to escape that particular bondage. Like everything else you have taken from me, Master, my arms at first fall limply to my sides. It takes specific thought to roll my shoulders forward and cross my arms. I am moving slowly, easing from one position to the next. "Remove your blindfold, slave," I feel you moving across the room again as you say it. My fingers are thick and I end up pulling the cloth down to my neck in order to work at the knot. I have to drop my arms frequently and start over. The knot is almost loosed when I hear the first slice of your cane through the air. It lands on the bed with a solid thud. I wonder if it will sound as good on my flesh. Forgetting the cloth, I fall to my hands and knees and crawl to you. Licking and kissing your feet and begging you to use it on me. "Please, please, Master. I want your marks, I want your bruises, your stripes, god hurt me with it, please, please." I trip in my hurry when you tell me to get back to where I was and watch in the mirror. I have never tasted it before, always you have teased me with it, but never marked my flesh. I know what kind of damage that piece of rattan can do, but I trust Master with everything in me to know what his cunt needs; what she deserves. When you stand behind me, I love the contrast we make in the mirror. I look small and vulnerable standing in front of you. All softness and curves. Pale smooth skin blotched and red across my tits, my mouth. Your hands look so strong and masculine as the pull me farther from the dresser and position me: legs spread, chin raised, hands behind my back-- knuckles brushing my ass. I am glad you have placed them in an easy position. The tip of the cane shows between my thighs and you raise it until you are sliding it back and forth in my slit. I moan out a thank you. My abdomen jerks as you slide the strip slowly into my cunt. In and out, in and out. I am panting and aroused by the idea, the hint of your power. I think my Master must be the most perfect, most erotic, most sensual of men. I beg you to slide it into my ass. Instead you place it in my mouth. It is not as flexible as I thought it would be, and a little less than a yard long. I cannot tear my eyes from it. So focused that when you bring the wooden paddle down on my ass I lose my balance. I fall to my knees again as the paddle falls harder and harder. I think you tell me to crawl several times before it registers I move my body forward tentatively. The strength behind the paddle grows more, until you are compelling me with your pain to scurry around the room. My movement causes the blows to land in odd places: my ass, yes-- but also my thighs, hips, calves, even a few on my upper arms. Later I will realize that you were very in control-- reddening and bruising only my soft, fleshy areas. Now it feels random and unpredictable. I am like a wounded animal yelping and scrambling to escape the pain. You skillfully drive your slave into a corner, where I cower. The crown of my head butting and rubbing against the walls. Your deliberate strikes have made even the slightest touch now an agony. Each time you hurt me you remind me I am Yours. Your cunt. Your whore. Your bitch. Yours. I am sobbing and pleading with you. The cries wrack my entire torso. And then I am flying. I hear the blows. I feel the contact, but now the intensity is a pleasure I can hardly contain. The pain wraps itself in a tight cocoon around me and becomes exquisite. Even the sweat on my skin is sensual and arousing. I am arching my back and grinding my tits into the floor. Spreading my thighs and begging for more, more. I slowly realize that you are not hitting me at all. Merely brushing your hands across my enflamed skin. And then your hands are on my hips... sweet god that hurts and your dick slides smooth into my ass as thought they were made for one another. You begin to count with each thrust. "Ten... nine... eight," hands gripping tighter. I place a hand over my head to keep from hitting the wall with each movement of your hips. "Seven... six." Your sweat dripping onto my back. My tender breasts rubbing the carpet. "Five," unbelievably I can feel my cunt thickening and desire washes over me in heavy waves. "Four... three," I am mumbling please, please, yes Master please please... "Two," and I know that it will happen. "One," a shudder and I scream with the pleasure of it. You make no allowances for the orgasm ripping through my body and continue to steadily slide your cock in and out of my ass. Wetness is pouring from my cunt now. You balls slapping against my tender skin. I can hardly hold myself up as the spasms subside. My ass is burning and I am whimpering with it. You grunt and slap your hand on me again and again. Thrusting, taking my ass completely. I crumple to the floor when you finally stop. Floating now as we move to the table. How can I be upright? Each movement is a sweet agony, Master. I am eating up your little words of praise and glowing with the knowledge that I am Yours completely. When I am on my back-- head hanging from the end of the low table, you kneel and shove your cock into my mouth. Fucking deep and hard. I am gagging, grabbing short little pants of air when you allow it. Enduring when you do not. I can taste my blood as my teeth cut into my lips and bile rising in my throat. Balls hitting my face, you take Master. You take everything from me. My back screams as it sticks to the plastic surface. I can feel drool sliding into my ears and the sounds of your pleasure lay over me like a blanket. You move back until only the head of your cock is pulsing between my lips. Soft movements, so different from your brutal thrusting. I think I can measure your heartbeat on my tongue. In and out, in and out. My bruised and swollen lips caressing you. "Are you ready, slave?" you ask and separate your flesh completely from mine. You big hand cups my head and relieves the tightness in my neck. The cane is rolling across my breasts now. I think I am a cookie dough that you are rolling out and shaping. Giddy with the idea that I will feel your stripes soon. I nod and close my eyes. My arms and legs are taped to the table legs, exposing my cunt and thrusting my tits upwards. It is not uncomfortable and I am glad you do it for me. The soft cloth that covered my eyes is brought up from my neck and tightened in my mouth. And then your hands are on me. Oh so good, Master. Kneading and milking my tender breasts. Petting my belly, my thighs, stroking between my legs until I am vainly arching into your hand again. Legs sprawled wide... Master's hungry cunt. When my body is aroused to a fever pitch you set the cane lightly on me for the first time. Little tappings across my breasts and thighs. Alternating with your hand: a caress, a slap, a tap of the rod, a squeeze. My skin is heating again. Patiently building my need, my tolerance. The rod falls harder. Makes a satisfying sound. The pain is mild and easy to pull into myself. Soon your hands are gone and only the cane is stroking me. The blows fall harder. It builds a slow rhythm. A slice through the air, the thump on my skin, a gasp and then the burn. Shit it burns, Master, and then your praise. I am a good cunt, your obedient slave, inviting me to take your pain. You tell me how sexy the marks are. All the while carefully laying a ladder of pain down my breasts. Nothing you have ever done compares to this. The rod falls in earnest now. I am screaming as you stripe my thighs, the cords of my neck straining as I tug on my bonds. The tape is ripping the skin at my ankles as I try to escape. Each time I think, "let this be the last" and I see you raise your arm again. My stomach is heaving now, my ears ringing, desperate sounds: like stock at branding with no way to avoid Master's mark. It lands relentlessly again and again. I am choking on my own spittle and fear. "Two more," you promise. I think I hear my own skin tear when the last one falls on my breasts. A sharp edge traces the bottom of my foot, unbearably soft and light. You tell me not to move until I have permission and slice through the tape at my ankles. I can feel a pool of liquid between my thighs and up my back where my bladder released. The air is thick with the smell of your exertions and my fear. The only sound is my ragged sobs. When you slice through the restraints at my wrists and set your hand in my hair I have the urge to run. I don't believe my body could even rise without help. You kiss my face, lick at my tears and ask if I am ready now to make Master cum. Now is the time to object. I only nod dully and wonder how I will endure more. With your help I turn on the table until my ass is raised and vulnerable to you. The tabletop torments the new welts and bruises you have just laid on me. I scream into the cloth as you separate my cheeks and stab my asshole with your hard cock. Dryfucking me. Forcing my ass to accept your invasion. It is too much. You have been in my ass too much today, Master. I want to object. Splitting me until I think I will die of it. Master, Master, begging now please please Master I can't. I can't. The cloth holds my tongue still and you fuck and fuck savagely. Telling me how it feels to tear your slave's ass open. How beautiful my back will be split by your cane. How my ass is gripping your pole. Lubing me with my own blood and reaming my ass with deep thrusts that slap against my thighs. Drawing back until I think you are through and then cramming my ass full of cock again. I am cumming before I know it will happen. Yelling yes, yes now. No more protests, no more struggles. Take me, Master. Take me. Trying to shove the words past the gag. The orgasm grips me and spreads from my ass to my cunt. You wait until the spasms die completely before pouring your hot seed into your fuck hole. When your breathing slows you ask me, "Cunt, do I have to restrain you now?" I nod mutely, knowing I could not disciple myself that well. This time it is soft cord that binds me and spreads my legs wide, knees on either side of the coffee table. The urine stings against open stripes on my thighs. As a final humiliation you turn my head to the side and wrap cord around the table and across my cheek several times. When I cannot shift my head at all you are satisfied. The first blow is not the soft tap I expect. I hear the thud before my brain registers the pain. It seems forever before the air parts again and a second thud lands across my shoulders. You are not speaking, not making any noise. The whistle, the thud, my scream rending the air. I can decide all I want that I will not scream, but I do every time. I can count as high as five once the first finger of pain spears me and then the cane is whistling again. Merciless like Master. I am sure there are open wounds now on my upper back. Your swing is slowing. My entire body is spasming. I am glad when the first blow falls on my ass and then shrieking as I realize how it hurts. Methodical now striping me with precision and intent. Until my ass is as bruised and battered as my tits and shoulders. I no longer have the strength to struggle when you move to my thighs. Crooning now, encouraging me. I am yours now. Completely yours. My mind hovers just outside now, so totally dissociated. This is happening to someone else. Another woman is pinned down there, twitching under the pain as the cane lands over and over no her soft flesh. You sit where I can see you now. Chest heaving, wet with your own sweat. Praising your slave for doing so well. Promising me it will be easier next time. Describing the mass of purple and red that is my back now. I adore you, Master. My body jerks periodically with pain. It throbs and I am almost insensible with it. Your razor cuts through the soft cord at my right wrist. Without volition my hand grabs yours when it moves to the rope holding my head. You smile and still for me. "yes?" I slowly move my hand to the gag, trying to remove it. With great care you simply slice through it and through the ropes holding my head still. My tongue is thick and dry. You feed me from the cup. A sticky, wet mix of fluids. I can lick my lips now. Still, I try twice before I can form the words. Finally, softly, "mark me, Master. Scar me now." The razor is an epiphany when you carve your initial on my hip. Subduing the Captain The following is a true story as told to me by a friend. Back in the late Fifties, I was the captain of a US Navy vessel, a big man o' war (that shall remain nameless). Three heavy gun turrets, a couple dozen torpedoes, several million dollars' worth of seagoing steel, and several hundred men were my command, but as the CO, I was enjoying my last cruise. I was 56, had reached the rank of Captain O-6, and after a great career, I was about to retire. Now I am an old man. Now I can tell this story. After 25 years of seafaring, I was looking forward to puttering around my house in Virginia. After World War II, the following Cold War, and the Korean War, I was tired. I just wanted to kick back and rest. On that last cruise, I stood one night on the bridge looking out into the night. My wife was gone, succumbed to cancer 10 years earlier, and the Navy had filled my life. Our son and I had struggled on, Brad staying with my wife's sister and her family nearby when I had to leave on sea duty. I leaned against the rail and dropped my head into my hands. Brad would be gone from my house when I retired -- he had grown old enough to join the Marine Corps, and he was carrying on the family military tradition. I would get out of the Navy in two months. Everything was perfect. Even the timing of the ship's patrol was perfect. After leaving the public relations visit to the Mediterranean city, whose lights I could see in the distance, we would go back to the States in three weeks, perfectly in time for my retirement date. But it was a melancholy perfection. What will I do without the Navy? I would be active -- I would still have things to do for and with the Navy. I was considering a teaching position in a local college. I could even start a business. After my wife's death, I had poured myself into my Navy career, and that kept me too busy for physical loneliness. Strictly speaking, I had no reason to worry. I cut rather a decent figure, if I said so myself: I was 6'1" and in trim shape for my age. Silver threaded through my hair and mustache, but I had no fat, no sagging jowls on my face, and I could still jog around the deck with the men doing PT. When I smoked my pipe, people sometimes told me I looked like David Niven. My problem was that I had, for lack of a better term, "outgrown" the available women. "Out-aged" is a better word. Helpful friends were forever inviting me to dinner where -- surprise, surprise -- an unmarried female friend of the family just happened to show up. It never worked out. Women my age were wrinkled and sagging -- and so was I. One look at the sailors running around my ship, and I knew I was no longer the type to catch the eye of a woman -- or at any rate a woman who would catch my eye. A few male friends had even hinted at taking advantage of "quicker services," but somehow a whore fell short of my preferences. I had to face it: at my age, I would rather listen to a recording of Rimsky-Korsakov than watch an old, tired, sweaty whore doing a hootchy-kootchy to arouse my interest. The following evening, when the ship tied up and prepared to open its gangways for guided tourist visits, I decided to take a few hours off from the pressures of command and have dinner in one of the city's restaurants, since they were famous for good food. I changed into civilian clothes and took a taxi to a restaurant/bar well noted in the tourist guides. I ordered a meal and a cocktail. Nice place. A jazz trio played soft music from a corner of the room, and the lighting was dim and romantic. My wife would have loved it. That thought somehow put the music into a minor key -- sad. I had the blues. After my meal, I had another cocktail, then another. Feeling a serious buzz, I realized the bartender was more generous with the liquor than those in US bars, and I had drunk more than I wanted to. I can usually handle three drinks with no problem, but I felt pretty smashed, so I stayed in my booth, listening to the music, hoping the alcohol would wear off. Finally I had to go to the bathroom, so I got up and walked to the men's room, glad I could keep from staggering, but taking advantage of handrails and other assists on the way. Inside, standing at the urinal pissing, I hoped I was getting rid of some of the alcohol, but I knew I would have to make a very serious effort to get back on the ship with any dignity. How embarrassing! Imagine staggering up the gangplank to take the salute of the Watch. Damn, maybe I'll have to take a hotel room for the night. I heard the door open behind me. A big man stepped up to the urinal beside me. I caught a glimpse of his gaudy clothes. American tourist. Big guy. Muscular. A drunk. I could smell the booze even though I had a few myself. Fucking American drunks! They give us a bad name! But then, hell, I'm drunk myself. The guy looked over at me and smiled. I looked away. Damned drunk. Maybe also a pervert. From the corner of my eye, I could see he was still looking at me. "I like older guys," he said. "You'll do." Before I could react, he grabbed me, shoving me into the wall! As I struggled against him, he jammed a cloth over my mouth and nose. Stinging, choking fumes! That's all I remember. When I woke up, I had a splitting headache. As my senses focused, I realized I was on my belly on a bed, my arms outstretched -- handcuffed to the bedposts! My feet were free, so I crawled up to my elbows and knees -- and -- no clothes! I was naked! Ohmigod! "Awake now?" I looked around at the voice. The bastard from the men's room! He, too, was naked, stroking his penis, a very large one, fully erect. "Okay, man, your time has come." "What in hell is the meaning of this," I roared. "Do you know who I am??" Damn, I wish I were sober! "Hey, you speak English! Well, I'll be damned, an American! What are the odds!" He arose from his chair, still stroking himself, and stood close to me. "No, I don't who you are. Do you know what this is?" He pressed his penis against my face, and I shrugged away in disgust. "You bastard! Turn me loose!" I was about to tell him I was the captain of a Navy ship, but I thought better of it. This could get ugly once it's out in the public. I rolled onto my side to kick out at him somehow, but with my hands cuffed to the bedposts, I was hardly dangerous. He easily avoided my flailing legs, pinned them down, and rolled me back onto my belly. I knew what was going to happen. I hadn't been in the Navy for 25 years without learning something about what sailors did in the dark. Oh, God, no! NO! He had trapped me. No way out. I took a deep breath. Maybe I can put my mind somewhere else. Maybe it will be over fast and easy. I bit my lip. What a nightmare! "You're gonna like this." He placed a hand on my shoulder, but I struggled away. "This can be easy, or this can be hard." He gripped my shoulder again. "If you want to fight, I can wrestle with you all night long. Or if you just relax, I'll get what I want, you'll get what you need, and we'll all be on our way." He reached down and groped at my penis. I snatched back my hips, getting away from him again. "It's all up to you, man," he growled. "But if it takes all night and all day, I'm gonna do you." I was horrified. No way out! While we stared at each other, my mind was racing. He's right. I can struggle all night long, but I can't hurt him, and soon I'll tire out. The end will be the same. I figured compliance the only way to get the nightmare over with, so I rolled over onto my hands and knees and rested my forehead against the sheets. The man's hands slid down to grope my buttocks. "Nice-looking ass, man." His fingers moved into the cleavage of my buttocks wriggling and tickling. I heard him spit. Then pain! Oh, my God!! I leaped and struggled in agony as his finger rammed into my rectum! I yelped but realized the bastard didn't care -- and I'm humiliating myself -- so I clenched my teeth in silence as he machine-gunned the finger in and out. I heard his heavy breathing, his warm panting on my ear. "Yeah, man, you're gonna like this. Nobody's played with you back there before, I can tell. Well, old man, I'm gonna teach you what that hole is really for." I didn't answer. He was beneath contempt. What a bastard. A bottom-feeder. A disgrace to the country. If I could find out the identity of this bastard, I would have him doing hard time in a penitentiary. "Nice and tight. You're pretty old to be a virgin, but better late than never." The bastard! How humiliating. After I had adjusted to a single finger, he pulled it out and reinvaded me with two! Again stabbing pain but slowly fading. Then he did the same with three fingers! Again, hurt like hell, but at the end the pain had faded away. Who could have imagined I could take three whole fingers in my rectum! He crawled onto the bed and mounted me, his body pressed against my back. It's happened! Oh, God, a man has mounted me!! He pulled the invading fingers from me and humped his hips against my rear-end. "You know how it works, right? The first man to sink his cock into you gets your cherry, and he gets you as his bitch. And that's going to be me!" He kissed the back of my neck. "The name's Craig. Remember me. I'll be your owner." I kept my face buried in the sheets -- Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God! I could feel the heat on my face. I must be blushing. Damn, how embarrassing! He spread my legs open, and I braced myself. The bed rocked and swayed as he moved around, taking aim. The heat of his body pressed against my back. Any second now . . . I'll get his penis through my rectum! . . . How depraved! But it didn't happen. His lips pressed against my ear, and he whispered, "I'm going to get you more in the mood, man, so relax." What? What in hell is this?? He moved back off me! I looked back. He was kneeling at the foot of the bed, and his hands spread my thighs apart. Suddenly his warm breath tickled my rear end. What in hell is he doing? His hands moved up to part my cheeks . . . and he began licking at my anus! I stiffened as the most intense feeling I ever had spread out from the spot. God! Jolts of electric pleasure shot through my whole body from my rectum! Oh, my hell, such pleasure! And coming from such a place! The sensation was astounding, like a tickle x 1000. Incredible! I couldn't keep myself from wriggling. He stopped for a moment. "Yeah, you see? A little rim-job on your asshole, and you're squirming like a bitch in heat." The insolent bastard! But he's right. I'm damn humiliated, but it's true: I'm squirming like a bitch in heat. He went back to work, and after a minute or two, I was breathing hard, on fire from the sensations in my asshole. Yes, like a bitch in heat. I couldn't help myself -- I drew one leg up higher on the bed to give him better access. The liquor! It's the liquor! I would never be like this without being drunk! Since I was drunk, what the hell, I gave in to the pleasure! As his tongue dug deeper and deeper in my asshole, my asshole liked it! I raised my hips off the bed, rising to my hands and knees, letting him at me. "Like this, do ya?" he grunted from my nether region. The insolent bastard! This is rape! I opened my mouth to tell him I would have him arrested, imprisoned, and I would make sure he got 20 years for rape . . . but all that came out was an ecstatic "Mmmmmmmmm!" When he finished rimming me, I crouched there purring like a mountain lion. Tamed. No struggles. God, what a feeling! I had never been so goddamned hot! "Your asshole is ready for my cock," he growled, and I heard him cough up another wad of spit. He crawled onto the bed and onto me again. Wiping his spit on my glowing asshole, he reached his big arms under my chest, placing his penis -- his cock -- between my buttocks!! Gripping me tight, he whispered in my ear, "Easy, man, just relax and let me in. I'm between your cheeks now, just about home. I know you're gonna enjoy this. We'll go slow for your first time." Kicking my legs open wider with his knees, he spread my cheeks with his hands, and his big cock zeroed in on my asshole. My first instinct was to tighten up and resist as his cock pushed against my opening. He thrust more powerfully, and I yelped in pain. Again he murmured in my ear: "Easy man, push outward. Like you're taking a shit. My cockhead will pop through, and the pain will go away fast." He pulled back for moment, and I did as he asked. Ungh! -- his cockhead slipped past my sphincter. It hurt! But once past, the pain was less. Damn, my asshole is a porthole! Once through it, he's in an open compartment. Craig's voice crowed behind my ear: "Busted your cherry man! I'm the first man to get his crank in your ass!" I breathed deep, still trying to adjust to the pain, and his invading crank moved further in. More pain, more writhing, more lunges at my asshole. Then: "I'm in, man. To the balls. You are FUCKED!" I couldn't believe it. I took that big cock? He paused a minute, murmuring I needed to "get used to him." His hairy testicles -- his balls -- and wiry crotch hair ground against my tender ass. I blinked -- I can actually feel that big thing pulsing deep in me! He was right. While the big cock lay quiet in me, the pain gradually faded until I felt a blend of . . . Jesus Christ, pleasure?? I caught my breath, stunned. No, this can't be true! I can't feel good! I had to admit it: this is an intoxicating sensation! It hit me: This is what a woman feels! How humiliating! I couldn't deny it: I like this! That horrified me. No, goddamn it, I am straight! I was married, and I have a son! The man lay on top of me, and he and I were one -- the piston and the cylinder. I fought the idea but had to confess: it was a pleasant feeling to be connected to him by the cock plugged into my ass. I am his partner. I gulped. No, goddamn it, No! I am not submitting to him! He cuffed my hands to the bed! If I get my way, this bastard will find himself in jail! But I couldn't deny it: I felt pleasure. He kissed the side of my head, "You will always remember this moment, old man. You'll always remember I'm your first." "And the last, you bastard!" I had to spit that out! Any man with an ounce of self-respect would have done the same. Then the world changed for me. I felt his first out-movement. It goes down in my personal history as the moment my whole life turned around. He astonished me. As the shaft of his cock slid slowly back out of my ass, the sensation was thrilling! Like a conveyor belt of ecstasy trailing blissful sensations past my asshole! Craig's cock was a 4th of July sparkler splattering burning pleasure through my guts as it traveled down my intestine. As the inches of his big cock slid past my hypersensitive ass-ring, I swear I could feel each every vein, bump, and texture, and sparks of electric pleasure shot from my asshole. I ground my face into the sheets, my body taut and tense, agonizing through a pleasure a thousand times more electrifying than being rimmed! Almost like an orgasm starting at my asshole! Jesus Christ! I've never felt anything like this in my whole fucking life! That was just his first outstroke! Once out to the cockhead, he slowly eased back in again, and the return thrust was wonderful, ecstatic, unbelievable, nothing like the first invasion. Nothing but sizzling pleasure! Like my asshole is building up to an orgasm! Out of control, I moaned and sighed. The pain was still there, but near faded away and somehow blended in, added to the bliss! I writhed under the man. God, this is wonderful! Like jacking off, but coming from MY ASSHOLE!! Even the pain is pleasure! I love this! I love what he is doing to me! It hit me: He broke me in. I'm changed. My hips thrust back at him, driving him deeper. "Yeah, you're a natural," he murmured. Gradually he picked up speed, and the pain faded away completely with his power strokes -- and the pleasure grew even louder. Am I still drunk? -- I feel smashed, out of my head! The sounds drove me crazy -- my own moans of delight, his grunts, the squeaking of the old bed, and the tapping of the headboard against the wall. I could stand no more! I let myself go, arching my hips up to meet his thrusts, grunting and panting along with him. "Natural bitch . . . just as I . . . thought!" He moved into rapid, jackhammer jabs, driving me to frenzied grunts of pleasure. Somehow I knew he was close to climax (hell, I used to do the same short-jab stuff when balling my wife) -- and I instinctively gripped my asshole muscles tighter, clamping him as hard as I could. Jesus, what am I doing?? I'm adding to his pleasure?? Is this some sort of automatic, instinctive, female response, the bolt trying to make the screw happy? It earned me a compliment: "Oh, shit, man, that's great! I love you clenching your as against my crank!" And he went over the falls, reaching his orgasm. I felt every shot his crank fired through my backdoor, and I wouldn't have thought that possible. Over and over his semen blasted deep in me, and I realized even my balls were in Craig's power -- without a single touch, without any jacking stroke, at the moment I felt his ejaculation, an orgasm instantly built up in me and swept over my body! Helpless to stop it, I shuddered in ecstasy, spurting my own load over the sheets while taking his load up my ass. It was a fabulous, wonderful, magnificent orgasm! "Craig . . . " I heard myself moaning, "oh . . God . . . Craig!" Craig continued to hump me, the wetness of his load making his gouges easier and slicker, and I rode along, flying through sexual heaven on the rails of his thrusting roller-coaster. I felt like a rag doll flapping at the end of his big, hard cock. Finally he slowed and collapsed on my back, but I was still in the longest, most intense orgasm of my life. While he lay on me panting and sweating, his cock softening in me, I was only half-conscious, still in the afterglow. The sheet under me was sopping with sweat and my sperm. My asshole, once a tiny thing tucked up almost invisibly between my ass-cheeks, was suddenly a proud, stretched rubber gasket gripping his wonderful cock. His big crank began to soften, and a large gob of his semen slithered out around it and ran down the crack and over my scrotum. I've been bred. Sexual intercourse. No, this is fucking. He fucked me like a bitch. His face pressed my shoulder blade, and he chuckled. "Can't say you didn't enjoy that, old man." I said nothing. I was still glowing in the sunset of pleasure. I crouched under him, breathing hard, feeling his hot, wet weight on me. God, what he did to me! Finally I collapsed to lie quietly under him -- humiliated but not quite able to wish it had never happened. I sighed. Relaxed. Satisfied. I'm still calling the police. In a couple of hours. Maybe next week. We lay like that for several minutes. I wondered what he would do next -- embarrassed but eager -- when I heard him snoring. The bastard is asleep on me with his cock still in my ass! God, I feel like a wife. Will the humiliation never end?? Trapped there, exhausted physically and emotionally, what the hell, I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep, too. I awoke hours later to the feel of a hand groping at my buttocks. Slowly coming to, I first felt the wet sheet under me, realized I was naked, and suddenly remembered what had happened! Subduing the Captain I no longer felt a cock in my ass, and his body no longer crushed me into the mattress. Craig had pulled out. But that had to be his hand on my ass. My arms still stretched to the bedposts, handcuffs still there. I felt something knocking at my backdoor, something hard. Something familiar. I looked back. Round Two? Craig smiled. "Mornin', man." Morning? I slept with him all night? "Just relax, you know how it goes now. Say hi to my pecker" He parted my ass-cheeks, and that hard pecker pressed at my morning-hole. "Please, Craig, don't! I said that more out of a sense of obligation than real emotion. "Hey, man, I've already busted you wide open. It's easy from here on. I'm just takin' advantage of the morning woodie." He reached up to my outstretched wrists. "If I take the handcuffs off, you gonna make any problems?" My first thought was to escape. I looked back into his eyes . . . then down at the big, hard, handsome cock jutting from his groin. Big mistake. I froze, hypnotized, staring at the big thing that had tamed me last night. I should get back to the ship, but . . . I'll stay just a little longer. He released me, and I rolled over on my back to took a good, long look at Craig -- for the police report. He was big, muscular, rough, masculine. Taller than I, so over six feet. I figured around 195 pounds. Brown hair, brown eyes. A broad face with a square jaw and a five o'clock shadow. He had wide shoulders and powerful arms. A flat belly. No fat. Hairy body. Hairy and manly. I like them like that. "Like them like that"? What am I thinking?? This man has raped me! A brown, curly thatch covered his chest, which tapered to a seductive, furry line down his belly to surround his belly-button and spread out again into a wedge-shaped, spiky mass over his cock. As I rubbed my sore wrists and arms, I continued to admire that cock, the giant fish-hook jutting up from his groin that had certainly caught me. I looked closer. Damn, that thing is at least nine inches long! Probably ten, maybe eleven! -- I know mine isn't that long. That big thing gave me the greatest orgasm of my life. I was in love. It was gnarled and pebbly like the surface of a raisin, all veins, bumps, and grooves. A big hood of foreskin streamlined it, leaving only the evil, black eye staring back at me. I tried to tear my eyes away, but somehow it had tamed me -- I was its slave. Craig was right: in some mysterious way, I belonged to him. That is bullshit! You are not a homosexual, you are straight! That may have been true, but Craig was right again. He knew I could not try to get away. Not just yet. Something in me had snapped. I wanted one more time. And I got it. Craig rose up over me and dropped to mount me missionary-style. He grinned as he saw me spread my legs for him. I was ashamed to look into his eyes and show my surrender, so I looked down -- at least fucking me doggy-style, I didn't have to look in his face . . . let him see how he's changed me! -- but that giant, rough-textured crank, hard and vertical up his belly, drooled a clear, sticky slime, and that gave me a strange feeling -- pride. Look at that. He's horny for me! Me, an old man! He coughed up a glob of spit into his palm and slathered it over his cockshaft. "You ready? Raise up your legs." Any decent man would have refused, but the man's sperm still oozed from my asshole. He had fucked me like a bitch. My self-respect was gone. I did as he told me. As he settled in, I reached down to my knees and pulled them up to my shoulders, bringing my asshole into range for him. He leaned over me, and his weight forced my legs farther back. My hips arched up, my asshole a bulls-eye for his hard lance. With one hand he guided himself to the right spot. Contact. With a lurch, he sank his cockhead inside me -- Ungh! -- but the pain was pleasure, a taste I had acquired, like the burning sting of a jalapeno pepper. As more and more of his weight settled onto me, more and more of his impregnator slid inside, and I groaned in pleasure, sheepishly giving in to the natural instinct: grabbing the sides of his body, pulling him closer. Craig cooed in my ear and sucked my earlobe as his hips pushed in the last inch of cock. His testicles pressed against my butt. I could not keep silent: "Unnnh, I feel your balls! You're in all the way!" We were one again, and I was delirious -- I realized even more surely that I was his fascinated, eager, anxious property. My breath came hard, and I was sweating. "C'mon, Craig, c'mon, c'mon!" Oh, God, I can't believe it. I'm begging him like a little boy. "Take it easy, old man, you got it all now," he murmured in my ear, and he started pumping. I should have been outraged, I should have been furious, I should have at least been ashamed. I was, after all, a mature, distinguished, dignified US Navy Captain, but when he held my head in his hands and licked my closed eyes, his cock socketing, socketing, socketing in my ass, I felt proud again -- I had taken every inch and no pain. I opened my eyes to look into his. They glared at me, glowing with lust, animal passion, the power of an alpha male. He's handsome! The bastard really is good-looking! Ramming his big chugger back and forth, he banged my head into the bed's headboard with every stroke, but it didn't hurt. He grunted in my ear. "You are one horny fucker, man. Hard to believe you were a virgin." I smiled, happy that I pleased him. I'm lucky I went to that restaurant. His movements in and out grew still faster, and my own cock swelled hard against his hot, sweaty lower belly. His coarse body hair rubbed over my cockhead with every stroke, jacking me off, and I wrapped my arms around his back. He jackhammered me in the familiar short-strokes of approaching orgasm, and I matched his every thrust with a counter-thrust of my own. Sweat covered us both, his dripping over me like boiling water from a hot springs. "Oh baby, oh baby," he groaned, and balls deep in me, his cock fired again into my guts. And again his climax triggered mine! "Craig! . . . Oh, Craig!" I closed my eyes in ecstasy, matching his ejaculations with my own, spurting my sperm into his cockhairs, onto his lower belly, and onto my own chest. His shots in me really set me reeling. We spurted together, he inside me, I on the outside for what seemed like long, wonderful hours, probably only a minute or two. I pumped out enough that soon he slid back and forth in it, smearing it over us both. God, this is fabulous! Where has he been all my life! Floating in heaven, my hands glided affectionately and gratefully over the taut muscles of his back. When he finally went limp on top of me, I held him tight. God, another motherfucker of an orgasm! I've never had such climaxes. Never. Not with my wife. Never!! Craig's big crank deep in my body felt good -- natural. I realized all my actions, my cravings, my fiery desire to hold his body against mine were natural responses. Natural! I didn't feel like a depraved pervert. I was still myself. I am not a homosexual, I am straight . . . but wait a minute . . . let's look at that again. Craig had just given me a motherfucker of a new insight into myself. I lay there in another long sexual afterglow, a US Navy captain with a drunken tourist's crank up my backdoor . And I loved it! And I wanted to do it again! Craig grunted as he came down from his afterglow, coughed once or twice, then arched back his hips and pulled his softening cock from my hole. His slime began to run out, and I gripped my ass at it, trying to hold it in. "You are one great fuck, man," he said with a grin as he rolled onto his side. "My dong is grateful." I smiled back. Proud. Even a little shy. God, I'm like a little girl! "You were great, too, Craig. My asshole is grateful." Shit! I didn't mean to say that! "Look at me, I've got your cum all over me. You got a good set of balls, old man. Look at all this jizz!" I beamed with pride. He hefted his softening but still impressive cock. "Take a good look at this rod, man. It was inside you. A real beaut, aint it?" I nodded, a silly grin plastered on my face. "Nice rod." "Made you moan like a bitch in heat, didn't it?" Time for the truth. "Yeah." He cupped his big, low-hanging balls . "The jizz from these puppies is swimming in your guts right now." He looked down at me proudly. I'm his work of art, a painting in cum. He did me. Impregnated me. His jizz made me part of his herd. Somehow that turned me on. Yeah. His load of jizz is in my ass. I swear I can feel his sperms wriggling in there. I wonder how long I can carry them. He pulled on his underwear and adjusted himself as I watched. "I fucked you good, man, and you're never gonna forget it." He's going to leave. We'll never see each other again. I might as well come clean with him. "You're right, Craig. I'll never forget this night as long as I live." He pulled on his pants and shirt then his socks and shoes. "So long, motherfucker." And he was gone. I lay on the bed with strange feelings. Empty. Abandoned. Left behind. A warm trickle oozed from my asshole, and as I got up, I clenched it tight, trying to hold it in. He bred me. Impregnated me. I'm carrying his sons! I dressed and staggered from the room, which I discovered was in a hotel. Out in the street, I saw the hotel was a cheapo dump in a scruffy neighborhood. I walked down the street to hail a cab, and as I moved, the wetness between my butt cheeks reminded me my ass had been Craig's breeding ground. I'm his cum-container. His receptacle. I tried to hold my ass tight, oddly proud I was bearing that big man's jizz. If nothing else, I had slept (and fucked) off my drunkenness. Once back at the ship, I walked back up the gangplank with dignity. Back in my cabin, though, I shut the door and pulled out my bottle. I needed another drink. Craig's semen had been running down my legs for nearly an hour, soaking my socks, and I felt like a slut. No real man wants to admit he enjoys another guy fucking him, but damn! It was my secret, one that would die with me. Something else: I was only "officially" ashamed. From deep inside, undeniable thoughts kept surfacing: That man made me feel like no one ever has. He made me feel wonderful! When I stepped into the shower to clean myself up for a new day, I found myself jacking off to thoughts of Craig. As days went by, I discovered something in me had changed (or been fucked into me). When I inspected the personnel or walked by sailors standing at Attention, I checked out their crotches. I realized what I was doing when, staring at a big bulge, I looked up to see the big deck ape trying to keep himself from grinning. I paid more attention to maintenance inspections of head and shower facilities, always arriving when the men would be using the showers. I made up an excuse about a malfunction in my private shower and started showering with the other officers. I wanted to get naked with them. Wanted to see their cocks. I wondered if I would ever get back to "normal." I used to masturbate once a week or so, like most mature men. After Craig remade me, I was jerking myself in my cabin at least three times a day. Always to thoughts of Craig and what he did to me. One evening I was in my quarters, about to turn in for the night, when I heard a knock. "Captain, sir, a crewman is here requesting to see you. Personal problem. Want me to send him away, sir?" Ordinarily, sailor gripes were handled at lower levels. Nobody got to bitch to the CO, but for some reason I thought, What the hell. "No, Petty Officer, don't send him away. I'll see him." I opened the portal, and my jaw dropped open. Craig stood there in a Navy dress-blue uniform. A member of my crew!! He could have knocked me over with a feather. But my cock lurched in my pants. He smiled. "Sir, I ain't here to stir up shit for anybody. Relax." He stepped through into my cabin. "Matter of fact," he continued, "just the opposite, I'm here to get what's mine." My heart stopped. "What's yours?" My voice was a squeak. He smiled again. "I been thinking about that butthole of yours since I left the hotel, sir. Never thought I would see you again, and then, hell's bells, sir, you turn out to be my CO!" He lowered his voice. "I told you, the man who first busts a guy claims him as signed-sealed-and-delivered property." He looked me in the eye. "You liked my cock up your back door, sir. You liked it a lot." Again that smile. "The way I see it, sir, don't matter if you're the captain. I own your ass." I was stunned. A nightmare coming true. "Do you . . . actually think I will go along—" "—Tell me, sir. Tell me you ain't thought about my fucking you since you came back to the ship." I gasped, desperately trying to think what to say, and he caught that pause, smirking at the answer it gave. "Fuck you," I growled. "I did, sir," he said, grinning, and I gnashed my teeth that the famous Navy retort had turned on me. I lowered my voice. "Do you think I enjoyed the vile things you did to me??" I went on and on about honor, duty, manly pride, humiliation, rape, felonies, and courts-martial. He let me rave for a few minutes, then, "I came here to fuck you, sir. You ain't going to deny me that, are you? Come on, man, one quick fuck, and I'll leave you alone. It ain't like we ain't done this before . . . Sir." Again that satanic smile. He knew more about me than I did. I gaped, stunned, speechless. "It's nothing new to you and me. I know you enjoyed my crank up your ass. I can tell you been thinking of me . . . ain't you, sir?" I looked at him, panicking inside. He had me dead to rights. Helpless, I nodded . . . broken. But at the same time I felt relief. It was the truth. He moved closer and reached around to the seat of my pants. He rubbed me. "You know you're asshole has been lonesome for me. Ain't it, sir?" I said nothing. "Ain't it!" He had me. No way out. "Yeah!" God, I was embarrassed. He moved behind me, and I heard his voice behind my ear. "I came all the way up here looking for you, sir, because you are a good fuck." I felt that funny pride again. One of his fingers jabbed up my ass through the cloth, the other reached around to grope my cock. "Open your pants, sir. I want to feel you again." It was an outrage. I didn't want to. No, the truth was I didn't want to want to. I knew I was opening the door to hell, but my brain could not stop my body -- I obeyed. I unbuckled my pants. His hand pulled out my shirttail and slipped under the waistband of my skivvies. His fingers wriggled into the crack of my ass. Yeah! That feeling! I couldn't hold back a happy moan. He fingered my hole. "Yeah, you remember. You're mine. No one's been in there since me, right, sir?" "No . . . just you." "You see, sir? You've been saving that man-cunt just for me. You know you're mine." He leaned close and murmured into my ear: "I need you as bad as you need me, sir. Reach down and feel the front of my pants. Feel how hot I am for you." I did as he asked -- Jesus Christ, the captain of the ship is feeling the cock of a sailor! -- Craig's big, hard, wonderful cock. I shivered, gripping harder, and he grunted as I traced it through the cloth. I felt its girth. Nice, fat, powerful. Again couldn't keep myself from moaning, "God." His fingers still playing with my asshole, he murmured, "Come on, sir, it's just you and me right now. Let me stick it to you." I could stand no more. I stepped away, pulling his hand from the back of my pants, away from my eager man-cunt. "Okay," I gasped. "But this is just a one-time deal!" I damned myself for breathing hard. "Just between you and me!" I began to shuck down my pants. "Once we're done, you get your ass out of here, and I don't see you again." He smiled and pulled his pants open -- no underwear! God, there's that fine cock! I licked my lips. "And . . . you . . . you immed-immediately get a t-transfer off this ship . . ." I was stuttering, distracted. He nodded, but somehow I knew this would not end so easily. I didn't care; I was too far gone. His baby-maker stood out from his body stiff as a board, and I wanted that big thing to try to make a baby in me again. When he had stripped off everything but his white socks, he stood watching me, stroking that fine organ. I had been staring at him hypnotized -- I still had my uniform on. I tore at it, throwing clothes everywhere until I was down to my skivvies. As I pulled them down, he walked over. My cock was also pointing straight up. He spit on his hand and gripped it. Oh, yes! As he pumped my grateful dong slowly with his wet hand, he smirked, "You can't tell me this thing ain't happy to see me again, sir. I knew I had you the first time I fingered your hole. You ain't the first virgin I broke in." He smiled wider. "But you are one of the horniest. Look at you now, a real cock-hound. A cum-slut. You didn't even know it, did you, sir?" God, I was ashamed. My face felt hot—I was blushing. What could I say? I could only look at him shyly. He let go of my cock and pulled on my shoulders, indicating he wanted me down on the floor. "Okay, time for me to get what I came for. I've been waiting too long." On my hands and knees on the deck, I felt strangely relaxed for the first time that day and also filled with an excited, breathless anticipation. God forgive me. Somehow it was good to know I was going to be held tight, skewered like a bitch, and used for sex. He pushed my legs apart, and again he took my breath away by licking at my asshole. God, how hot he makes me! That was how he got to me before. A rim-job. No one ever did that to me before. No one ever made me feel that way. No one ever taught me what my asshole is really for. Like before, when he had me panting and sweating, hot for him, craving anything he wanted to do, he stopped, sat back on his knees, and coughed up a gob of spit. I knew what was coming, and I shivered. I gave him an order: "Come on, sailor, stick it in me!" I got my wish: the warmth of his body pressed familiarly against my back as he mounted. His hard pecker instantly found my hole -- I may have been wriggling back there to help his aim -- and it started its entrance. His wonderful cockhead parted the ring of my ass, and I moaned with the wonderful combination of ecstasy and pain. After his cockhead popped through, the natural suction of my butt pulled him deep inside, and I began gasping as he dug deep, very deep, deeper than before. His head alongside mine, he whispered in my ear: "Damn, sir, you're great, best fuck I've had on this ship." I glowed with pride, clenching my asshole around him in gratitude. I writhed under him, hot and eager. "C'mon, sailor! Ram it in!" My voice was hoarse and husky. As his hips slammed into my butt, out of my goddamned mind with lust, I barked at him. "C'mon, you son of a bitch! Fuck me! HARDER!" The bastard was teasing me, though. His thrusts were slow and sensual, setting me on fire, playing me like a violin! I moaned like a whore. "Yeah, I'm back in your saddle again, Bitch," he breathed in my ear. I didn't like that. No sailor is going to call me a "bitch"! But as I rose up to reprimand him, I raised my butt slightly, allowing his downthrusts to grind his wiry crotch hair against my ass, and it started! I could tell he was climbing to his climax, and all too quickly he grunted, "Take my load, Bitch! Here it comes!!" Subduing the Captain The length of his strokes got even shorter, he squeezed me tight around the belly, and a long, low moan came from deep inside him. I feel it again! I feel it! Wetness spurting up inside me! And he did it to me again! Took over my body! Drove me into a helpless, irresistible, remote-control orgasm! "Aaaaaaah, Craig! God, you got me!" I blasted into Nirvana myself, and as an overflow of his hot slime gushed from the sides of my asshole. I fouled the deck of my cabin with big jets of my own sperm. God, it's wonderful! We both burned through our ecstasies, and when the peak had passed, I crouched there, the grateful bitch. I waited for it: sure enough, he collapsed on my back, and I welcomed it. I loved the feel of his warm, sweating chest against me. "Captain, that was fantastic," he murmured in my ear. That made me proud. Making him feel good made me feel like a man, a physical, blood & guts man. We lay in the afterglow for a minute before he got up, his sweat-wet skin sticking to mine as he pulled himself away. His softening crank slipped from my ass. I lay still. Sitting back on his knees, he fingered my sloppy hole, satisfied I was full of his spuzz. Then he got up to get dressed, and I slowly crawled to my feet. My ass was sore, but it was a happy sore. Watching him tuck in that wonderful cock, a powerful temptation swept over me. I dropped to my knees and sucked it. "Ahhh, yeah! You wanna be my cocksucker?" He chuckled. "I love turnin' guys out. The biggest secret in history -- if a male ever discovers his asshole can bring him as much pleasure as his cock, women would be obsolete." "Can't suck my cock now, though." Craig pushed me away from his cock and I fell back. He reached down, lifted my balls, and fingered my asshole. "Nnnh!" I grunted in pleasure. "You see? When a man discovers what he can really do with his asshole -- his whole world changes." Craig looked down at his own cock, which I had given a medal in the form of a coating of my lustful spit. "For a good 10 years now, I been turnin' out straight men." He smiled at me. "Never had a single failure. Every one of them ended up loving man-sex, but you, sir, are one raging, sperm-crazy cock-whore." Oh, God, has this happened to me?? I smiled at him shyly. "You're right." I reached out to heft his balls through his pants. "How about you, Craig? You ever been fucked?" "Nope. Too afraid I'd like it. I'm a top. Always been a top, and from all the married men and straight-arrows I've turned into cocksucking, panty-wearing, bend-over whores, I know what can happen if I let a cock up my ass. I won't do it." He looked down at me. "Too late for you, though. Sorry." "Craig, I'm not sorry. You don't know what you're missing." He buttoned his pants. "Listen, Captain . . . I'll see you later." He walked out the door, and I watched his ass moving in his tight Navy-blue bellbottoms. I watched until he faded out of my sight into the darkness. For a moment I could see the stars glittering in the sky overhead. They were beautiful. Damn, I feel good! Better than for a long time. Better even than the first times. Craig gets better every time. I clenched my rectum, feeling the moisture, the slickness of his sperm-load. Oh. My. God. I am the commanding officer of the ship, a man who prides himself on honor, duty, and doing the right thing, and I'm carrying another man's jizz in my guts. Why was I not going crazy with that realization? Jumping over the side, Committing suicide? Before Craig had kidnapped and raped me, I would have been a wild man, sure enough! But Craig's big cock had somehow gotten into my brain. I no longer thought the same. At that moment, my dick was half-hard as I thought about all the baby-makers Craig had deposited in me. If I were a woman, by now I would be knocked up. Damn, why does that make my dick jump? I pulled on my skivvies, then I reached down and groped my proud cock, by then tenting out the cloth, slowly rubbing myself as I walked to the head in my compartment. Jesus, if the ship's officers could see me now. Only the risk of discovery bothered me, not that I was the brood-mare for another man's sperm. I was worried only about being caught, not troubled that a sailor had fucked me and left me walking around with a hardon for him. I slept well that night. Tuckered out. The next morning I was sporting the usual morning wood when I tried to piss, and I couldn't will my erection to go down. My cock has Craig on its mind. Just thinking his name made my crank jump, and that scared me. This obsession is only going to get worse if I don't somehow nip this in the bud. And fast. I brought the memory of my wife and son to the front of my mind. I wasn't cut out for this man-sex stuff. No, I needed to get back on track. I needed to be normal again. I walked out of the head with a new mental attitude: I'm going to straighten out -- but I still couldn't piss just then; the head between my legs was still thinking of Craig, keeping me hard and piss-less. Two nights later I stood at the railing, smoking my pipe, looking out at the lights of the city. The Duty Watch walked by. When he was gone, Craig came out of the darkness. "Evening, sir." "Goddamn it," I hissed. "I told you not to come back up here again! Somebody's going to notice you at this time of night!" He said nothing. He moved close to me and rubbed between my legs. I froze. "Thought maybe you might be in the mood tonight, sir. It's been two days. My nuts are full, and I want you tonight. How about it, Captain, going to give it up to me?" My cock instantly flared up inside my pants. Damn! I want him so bad! But I took a deep breath and stepped back. "Craig, we need to talk." "Sure, sir." He moved close again and once more gripped my cock through my uniform. "You sure you want to talk now, sir? How about after we fuck?" "Craig, I can't keep doing this. This isn't . . . what I want." But he still stroked my cock, and I was fighting to keep my voice from becoming a purr. His left hand rose to my shoulder. "I'm crazy for you, Captain. You really turn me on." I gasped. I turn on this beefy, solid sailor? He really knew what to say. The compliment blew me right out of the water! He wants me! He wants me as much as I crave him! He rubbed my shoulder along with my cock, sort of a combination Comfort & Arouse. "I know what you need, Captain." I glanced down at the bulge in his pants, and I knew, too. What was on the other side of his zipper made me lick my lips. He pulled down my zipper, and his knuckles gently rubbed my rock-hard manhood. "Jesus Christ, Craig, not here!" "Yeah, you're right, sir. Let's get into your cabin." His face was so close to mine I could feel his breath on my cheek. I opened the portal and yanked him inside. I'll be a son of a bitch! Look how this guy just played me! As I closed the metal hatch behind us, he grabbed me tight, and our lips met. Jesus! I'm kissing a man!! I didn't pull away. Our lips locked together. I had never before kissed a man -- or even thought about it -- but there I was, with Craig's tongue trying to part my lips. I didn't fight long -- I let him in and wrapped my arms around him. He held the back of my head as his tongue aggressively explored my whole mouth. We exchanged spit, our tongues dueling, making out like a couple of teenagers. When he finally broke the kiss, I was lost in the moment. "Craig, you look so hot tonight," and immediately blushed beet-red. Jesus Christ, what made me say that?? "Just can't keep away from you, sir." He kissed me again. I was melting. Nobody had said anything like that to me in many years. I wallowed in his arms, hugging him, and we kissed and sucked at each other for several long, wonderful minutes. Naturally my hand soon found his warm crotch. He was hard, and I felt strangely proud knowing I did that. Of course his hands found my butt, slid under my belt, and explored my crack, setting me on fire. "Take your pants off," he commanded in a husky, lustful voice. "Yeah." My belt clicked open, followed by the top button, then my zipper. "I want to fuck you bad, Bitch. Been thinking constant about you." His voice was like gasoline on my fire. I was ready. Willing. Too hot to bother with trifles like being called "Bitch." I stripped off my pants and shoes and threw off my shirt. I yanked off my skivvies. "Yeah! Come and get me!" I wanted him in me again. Craig made me forget my world and all its pressures. I needed him. I craved him as much as he wanted me. "Good boy!" He looked me square in the eyes. "I've been waiting to hear you say that. I like my bitch to want me up inside him. You've turned the corner tonight, ain't you, sir?" He patted my crotch. I looked down, not exactly embarrassed but rather shy. He was right. I was on a new street -- I was the street, a hot street. A horny avenue up my ass. A boulevard for his big, uncut limousine. There was one burr in the saddle, though. Bitch. I was trying to think of a way to bring it up without breaking the mood when he grabbed my chin in his hand and pulled my eyes back to his. "Come on, admit it. You're my bitch, right?" I felt the whole universe turning on that moment. Gigantic gears and counterweights changed positions. "Yeah, I'm your bitch." My voice was a cracking squeak. He smiled from one side of his face to the other. "God Fucking Damn, I got me a captain's hole to fuck!" I wasn't sure I liked the way he said that . . . but hell, it was true. His hand came out of the back of my underwear, and both his hands went to the front of his bellbottoms. I watched as he handily unpopped the 13 buttons of Navy enlisted uniform pants and shucked them down. There was his glorious cock. "First a little warmup. See how I'm drooling precum for you? Suck my cock, sir." I dropped to my knees, stuck out my tongue, and licked the head, tasting the slime oozing from his piss slit. The very idea of licking a sailor's dong had my own sputtering clear precum so heavily, it was running down my thighs. God, he turns me on! Before I knew it, I was sucking halfway down his shaft. When I backed up, my tongue explored the crown of his mushroom cockhead. He humped me deep a couple of times and managed to bury my nose into his wiry crotch-hairs. They smelled of Ivory. Good man. US Navy-issue soap. As I sucked him I gripped his hard thighs, and he held onto my head. "Damn, you're good, Captain." That made me proud. Sucking his cock was like downing shot after shot of Bourbon. I was soon crazy, out of my head. God, this is good! Feel that big, fucking thing! Yeah, I can get it . . . down my throat! His breathing grew faster. "You're gonna swallow my load now, Bitch! Show me how much you want it!" No time to answer. The first squirt hit the back of my throat, and I almost choked. Each shot after that filled my mouth, and I had to swallow or choke. God, what balls! He pumped cum into my mouth so hard, so fast, and so long, it sputtered from the sides of my mouth no matter how desperately I gulped. I'm drinking a sailor's jism! I felt good. Not embarrassed. Not even ashamed. In fact, I was proud. As my favorite cock went limp, I continued to lick and clean it. "Easy, Bitch, it's sensitive." For some unknown reason -- I don't know why -- I gently squeezed his shaft, and my tongue parted his piss slit just before I removed my mouth from him. His cock rewarded me with a large, final drop of cum. Licking my lips and sitting back, I looked up at a happy guy grinning back down at me. "How'd you know to do that? A pro cocksucker will do that, getting the last drop. You sure you never sucked cock before, you been holding out on me?" I smiled, proud of myself. At that moment, I heard a knock at the door behind us. "Hold on," Craig giggled. "I know who this is." What?? "Wait! Hold it!" Before I could stop him, Craig opened the portal. A big, tall, black sailor stepped inside and shut the hatch behind him. "Well, well, what have we got here?" His voice was as deep as a foghorn. The man was a big, muscular giant at least 6" 6' and I guessed a good 251 pounds. Black as night. I was stupefied. "What the hell's the meaning of this!" Then I looked down at myself -- kneeling on the deck, naked, sperm running down my face and neck, my cock an iron bar. A nightmare! I was drowning in humiliation and embarrassment. Craig's voice: "This is my buddy Thompson. He had to meet the guy I've been bragging to him about." Oh, God. It's getting worse! Out of control! Out among the crew? My days in the Navy can be counted on one hand! The second he clanged the hatch shut behind him, Thompson started shucking his uniform, and in seconds he stood before me naked. God! What a stud! Big, broad! Shoulders that belonged on a buffalo. Pecs like gun turrets. A hard belly like a six-pack of Budweiser. His chest was cut, chiseled perfection under ebony skin. Magnificent! I stared at Thompson's meat. He was only half-hard, but the girth and length were amazing. I wouldn't have believed it. I had heard that black guys had bigger cocks, but this guy was huge! A long, very long, arrow-headed, black velvet torpedo. Scary and still not fully hard. I couldn't breathe. His testicles were giants, too. Oranges in a black leather bag. My mouth hung open. I was speechless. When the big man stepped toward me, the massive black prong hypnotized me. His swaying balls and the powerful movements of his sweat-shiny musculature held me in awe. He was strong, virile, and beautiful -- perfect. I caught his scent . . . animal, pure, lustful, and it got to me. The smell of him burned into me more than anything else. I knelt there, quiet. Awaiting his orders. Without a word, he grabbed my head and pushed his giant cock into my mouth. Or tried to. The mammoth dong tried to make its way down my throat, but I was choking and fuck, it's not even fully hard yet! It overwhelmed me. But he was in charge, and I knew it. I hefted his big balls, massaged his inner thighs, and rubbed the hard muscles of his belly, trying to be of service as I struggled to suck that huge baby-maker deeper and deeper. Giant thing. Choking me. Tried to cram it . . . down . . . throat . . . deeper . . . deeper . . . stretching my throat -- but his penis was more than a match for my mouth. I gagged. "You failed, Bitch" he growled. "Stand up!" I obeyed. He was the man. "Turn around and bend over." I understood. I knew what was coming. I wanted it. God, I wanted it! And I got it! His massive impregnator pushed at me, and Time and Existence stopped. Against a wall of crimson pain, I screamed, but no sound came out. I was frozen, shell-shocked, a stunned sack of woe surrounding his massive cock as it drove into me, stretching me, expanding me, glorifying me far past anything before! All I felt was pain! Agony! The bastard was splitting me in half!! In a frenzy, I thought back through Craig's training. In spite of the agony, I knew pleasure would come in time if I held back panic. I tried to relax, tried to ease the entry of the giant penis, and gritted my teeth, trying to be patient. After what seemed like forever, Craig's legacy blew over me like a cool breeze: the magic started. Slightly, gently, somehow my asshole stretched wide enough to take the monster cock, the pain eased and grew more and more pleasurable until finally . . . I swirled into an overwhelming, mind-blowing combination of pain and ecstasy, a sensation that drove me fucking crazy! My sphincter was stretched beyond imagination, tighter than a guitar string, but playing sweet, high-pitched fuck-music. His crank burrowed deeper and deeper, into areas never touched before, I felt the sweat from his chest on my back, and I bent my head to the deck, tamed and enslaved. I love fucking! I wish he could fuck me for the rest of my life!! And I suddenly realized he was not fucking! All this ecstasy was from his entry!! The fiery pain/pleasure had me in an almost drug-euphoria. God, what will it be like when he begins stroking? I didn't know how long it took. Hours? Maybe a few minutes. "Okay, Captain, now you got every inch." Again I had that strange pride. He leaned in close to my ear. "Now let's get to fuckin'! I'm gonna break in that new pussy of yours, and you're gonna love it." I growled back, "Fuck me, you big bastard! Make me your bitch! FUCK ME!" His fuck-strokes were almost as fabulous as cumming! I felt like a cannon ramrodded with an explosive charge and two iron balls! Skidding me across the deck, the man set fire to me, a forest fire that spread out from my asshole and consumed my whole body. Thompson kept calling me names -- he had an authority hang-up. How could he have that here, now? He's the one in charge here. He's the man. I'm his bitch. He called me that: "bitch," "pussy," "cunt," "slut," "whore," "faggot," and everything else he could think of. He humiliated me, but not enough that I wanted him to stop. Thompson's magnificent cock was battering me into a new person. Every time he called a name -- "Feel this big fucker up your ass, you puny-ass, cocksucking whore" -- I thought, So what is your point? I am your puny-ass, cocksucking whore! What technique! For a while he hammered into me with all his weight and might, long-dicking my rectum until I was begging for mercy, then he switched to short, jackrabbit humping until I was out of my mind with lust. He also tantalized me with slow thrusts and withdrawals, driving me crazy. His cock had stretched my ass so wide I could use a telephone pole as a dildo, but I didn't care. For what felt like long, long hours, his thrilling strokes had me hovering on the edge of an orgasm. Insane with need, I yelled, "C'mon, you son of a bitch! Fuck me! FUCK ME TO DEATH!!" I was on fire, his giant pole ruining me. Something else: his masculine power was so strong, submitting to him was natural, proper, an obligation. I wanted to submit to him, becoming more and more his servant the longer he pumped me. I knew, down in the bottom of my balls, that he had changed my personality: I was no longer the leader, no longer the commander. He was the leader, and I was his property. I wanted to show the big, masculine stud the proof of his power, to show him I was his. I clenched my sphincter tight around him, gripping his titanic scepter, milking him. He grunted with pleasure, and I glowed with pride. He had trained me. He was the master. "Thompson, breed me . . . make me your bitch!" I wanted to be his pussy, his slut, anything he wanted. I would gladly be his man-cunt whore, his slut, his faggot. "You're the man . . . the stallion!" Again he grunted. I was learning my place. I understood. I understood completely. "I'm your brood-mare, man . . . your bitch . . . I'm your meat-hole! . . . take my hole!!" It went on and on. Felt like hours. Finally, completely exhausted from exertion and excitement, I was physically shot (although my asshole still wowed and sizzled around his big crank). Unable to crouch any longer, I collapsed to the deck, folding flat from the position convenient for him, and he fell on top of me, his cock wedged in my asshole . "Damn pussy!" He shoved my legs apart, stuffing more of the wonderfully, impossibly huge thing into me, and I could only moan in pleasure. Past speech. His obedient bitch. Completely at his service. He grabbed me with those big, black, powerful arms and lifted me up, flipping me over, and drove himself deeper into me -- suddenly in the missionary position. I looked up in awe, and his grim face glared down at me. His giant weapon never left the warm home of my guts. Subduing the Captain It happened so fast, I lay blinking, stunned, gazing up into my captor's face. There was no break in the balling. In this new position, he hammered at my butthole with even more force, his face dripping sweat onto mine. When I tasted it, I raised my head to lick at him, lapping at the pungent perspiration -- skin vodka; it made me drunk. I raised my legs for him, spreading them as far apart as I could, my knees up to my shoulders. The big bastard knew exactly what he was doing. By flipping me over and forcing me to watch him rape me, he made me know even more clearly that he was in charge. I needed no convincing. His giant prong showed me only one thing mattered -- his pleasure. His cock command me from deep in my guts! I opened my mouth, gasping, "Master . . . I am your hole . . . Use me!" My anus-ring tightened obediently to give him more pleasure. My submission was complete, absolute! Any pain I felt, any thoughts that I was straight, any reluctance was swept away by this amazing, superhuman fuck. Time ceased to exist. In fact, I didn't learn until the next day that Thompson was fucking me for more than an hour. At the end of that time, with the instincts of the true bitch, I knew my master's climax was approaching, and I was excited. I would soon be fulfilling my destiny, his cum-slut, receiving his power, bearing his royal essence in my unworthy, adoring guts. I went out of my mind. "Come on . . . Thompson . . . Master . . . pump my guts full!" I couldn't believe I had yelled that. He rammed and jabbed, plunging ever deeper, harder, and faster in the last efforts to reach his climax. It happened. His hips jolting me with great, heaving slams, his hot, white slime jettisoned into me, gushing again and again, his massive prong injecting me, unloading its precious nectar. Again, I gasped in disbelief. He filled me up! I never dreamed a human could ejaculate so much! Glowing warmth filled me from my core outward, and my belly felt full, heavy, pregnant! Once again, my own body responded to fucking. In days of ever-bigger orgasms, I was on fire with the most massive orgasm of my life. I howled and shuddered in ecstasy. "Yes . . . oh, God, yes, Master . . . more! More! . . . give me . . . make me . . . bear your son!!" Jesus, did I say that?? Thompson never stopped. He thrust and thrust, pumping and spurting into me . . . and everything went black. When I came to a few seconds later, he had collapsed on me, crushing me, his face next to mine, his sweat drowning me in the smell of testosterone. Thompson's breath was hot and moist on my ear, and I shivered. He lay in the pool of cum I had ejaculated over my belly, and I felt honored: the master wallowed in my cum. It glued us together. I dutifully squeezed his magnificent lance with my sphincter to prolong his afterglow, feeling his amazing manhood throbbing in me, no doubt dribbling last bits of sperm, never losing its power over me. "Thompson," I panted, "I'm your bitch. Anytime." God. It's what I was born for. When Thompson arose from me, a great sadness filled me when his cock pulled out. I'm empty! He looked down at me with indifference. It was appropriate. I was a hole. Something that served him, serviced him. And I was happy to do it. He had just released his seed in me, and I wanted never to let it leak out. I clenched my ass tightly to hold it in. "So you my bitch now?" I nodded my head. "Yeah . . . your bitch." "Your asshole any time I want it?" "Anytime . . . anywhere!" "How's about if I come walking up out of the formation and force you to drop them Dress-white pants so's I can fuck you in front of the whole ship's crew?" I gasped. "Thompson, I—" God, this IS a nightmare! "—I would not advise that. We would both end up in Leavenworth—" I paused, gathering my strength, looking for the last scrap of resistance, but I had nothing left but submission. "—but if you want me . . . I'll drop trou for you . . . anywhere!" He smiled. "See you around, Bitch." Then he looked back. "Something else: I don't want you wearin' skivvies anymore. I want you naked underneath so's I can get at you faster when I want you." He looked at me. "You hear that?" "Yeah." "Yeah, what?" The ultimate humiliation. The final loss. The last of my authority. I could hardly bring myself to speak. "Yes . . . sir." With a snort, he opened the portal, and walked out. I tried to hold it in, but a drool of his sperm oozed from my buttocks as I looked around at Craig. "Quite a big fucker, ain't he? I knew you'd like him." The big fucker had rearranged my whole life. Everything was upside-down. "Yeah." What else could I say? Craig smiled. "Looks like you moved on to bigger and better things. You Thompson's slave now?" The power had shifted completely. These sailors were holding all the cards. "Craig . . . Craig, I can't believe what he did to me." I looked up at him, pleading, but knowing I was beyond hope. "Thanks . . . thanks for bringing me to him." In gratitude, I bent over and sucked Craig's cock, then looked up. "But you got my cherry. I will always belong to you." I sucked for a few moments, then backed off again. "Craig, he's like god! Nobody can resist god. You're a man, the big stud who turned me out." I kissed his cock again. "I'm god's anytime he wants me, but I belong to you." He smiled. "Wanna fuck again?" "No, not right now . . . I've got Thompson's sperm in me . . . Want to guard it through the night." "Bitch, sir, you are somethin' else." Still grinning, Craig left my cabin. Still clenching my ass, I got up, staggered to my desk, and sat down. I had a lot of thinking to do. I spent the night tossing and turning, unable to sleep, hoarding Thompson's sperm in my guts, trying not to relax and let it run out, imagining that I could feel his wriggling sperm ticking my insides. But all wondrous and awesome things come to and end, and the honor of being the master's receptacle came to a close. I finally fell asleep, and when Reveille awoke me the next morning, my sheets were soaked with sticky spill-out from my fulfilled ass. Then I stood up and faced reality. No force on earth could keep my new sexual identity -- and availability -- from the crew. Scuttlebutt would spread like wildfire. Soon I would be caught, court-martialed, and imprisoned. That morning I filled out the paperwork to bring my retirement to the earliest possible date. I would get out of the Navy in 30 days, a month early. If I didn't get caught. And what a 30 days. In that month, more than 60 sailors skewered me every night. Craig brought a buddy to my cabin every night, making up some excuse of "additional training," "ship's history," "record of my Naval service," etc, etc, etc. I walked around constantly leaking sperm out of my butt. Without skivvies, streams of it constantly ran down my legs, so I took to wearing the dark blue uniform. I couldn't wear khakis -- without underwear I always had a dark, wet spot at my ass. I often saw Thompson in the passageways, and whenever I did -- I think he might have been lying for me -- he yanked me into a broom locker, where I eagerly pulled down my pants and to let him at my hole. His pleasure never failed to make me cum. Twice he brought along one of his buddies, always a big, stalwart guy, and after the sessions in the broom-locker with two of them, I could hardly walk. I swallowed so much ball-juice in those 30 days, I actually lost weight -- I was so full I had no appetite and ate less. I figured every man on the ship knew about me. Maybe not some of the denser officers, but every man-jack of the crew appeared to be waiting to catch me alone. I was getting so little sleep, I went to the dispensary to get some aspirins. The corpsman there invited me into the examination compartment. Once there, he said, "Okay, sir, please drop your trousers and lean forward against the table." A prostate exam to get some aspirins? I did as he asked, and sure enough, as I spread my legs, I heard the sound of his belt and the rustling of cloth, and soon a good, hard cock nudged at my backdoor, and he thrust it in with a coarse grunt. He was good. I love the very feel of healthy fuck-thrusts, and he porked me for a good 20 minutes. When he finally finished and backed off, we both pulled our pants back up, he gave me the aspirins, and I went back to the bridge, more trickles of sperm running down my legs. The night of my retirement, the officers held a little farewell party for me in the Officers' Mess. I couldn't believe it. I never thought my luck would hold out, but I made it. They handed me the papers. I was retired from the Navy. I drove to the family home and attempted to "settle down." The house was near the Virginia coast, and I could watch the ships. Life was not uneventful -- I had errands during the days, little tasks at the Naval base, shopping downtown. A housekeeper had taken care of the house whenever I was gone, but she had quit a few weeks before -- moving to North Carolina with her husband. I put an ad in the paper for a new housekeeper. Weeks went by. I began to wonder if everything that happened to me in my last cruise was a dream. Until one night I heard a knock at the door. I opened it, and there stood Thompson. God, it's God! "Thompson, long time no see." He pushed past me and walked into the house. "Ain't got a lotta time," he grunted. "You got any beers?" The months dropped away. I was putty in his hands again. "Yeah, I'll get you one." When I returned from the kitchen, Thompson was sitting on the couch. As I handed him his beer, I glanced into the crotch of his blue Navy pants, and from the huge bulge, I knew that magnificent cock would come raring out like a Trident missile from a submarine. I licked my lips and reached down to undo the 13 buttons. At that moment I heard the front door open. I glanced up. A big man in a Marine uniform was walking through the door carrying a satchel. "Brad!" "Hey, Dad!" I was glad to see him, but oh, shit! "I wasn't expecting you." I hoped that didn't sound unwelcoming, but God, Thompson was sitting on the couch and Brad almost caught me undoing his fly! My cock was hard. Damn, this cancels my sex session with God. I would surely spend the night with a case of blueballs. Brad walked into the room and saw Thompson. "Brad, this is Seaman Thompson. Seaman Thompson, this is my son Brad. He's in training at Camp LeJeune." I looked over at Brad. "As a matter of fact, what are you doing away from Boot Camp?" Brad was staring at Thompson, and I gulped, wondering if he was guessing the situation. Then he looked over at me. "Great luck. I shot three entire clips of bulls-eyes on the rifle range, and I guess to encourage the others, I got weekend leave." Thompson looked up at me. "Take your pants off, Bitch." Brad dropped his satchel. "Hey, what the hell—" "—It's okay, it's okay, Brad! I'm . . . Seaman Thompson is . . . we were . . . it's not what you . . . " God, how will I ever get out of this?? Thompson pulled open his pants, and there was that magnificent cock. I could not stop myself. I stared down at it like a worshipper. What a specimen! Long, thick, bulging, with the purple head peeking out of the dark shroud of foreskin. I remembered what that thing could do to me, and my heart beat like a drum. "Drop your pants, Bitch!" he growled again. Helplessly, I looked over at Brad. "Brad, I . . . I'm sorry, but . . . I have to!" I unbuckled my belt and opened my pants— --"Dad!" As I pulled my pants down, my cock sprang up, hard as a board. "Dad, you don't wear skivvies anymore??" Still staring down at Thompson's mighty scepter, I shucked my pants down and kicked them off. "Seaman Thompson," I said in a tired voice, "doesn't want me wearing them, son. So I never do." My face crimson with shame, I sank to my knees, bringing my face close to Johnson's huge organ, rubbing my face over it. I simply could not stop myself: "God, I've missed this!" "I bet you have, slut-boy. Now suck it!" I grasped it and pulled it down to my mouth. I swirled my tongue around the head, then dragged my tongue down it, leaving a wet line down its length to his balls. "Oh, yeah," he moaned, "Work it, Bitch. Suck that dick. You really like the taste of cock, don't you?" All I could do was shut Brad out of my thoughts -- put him in a compartment in my mind. I was boiling-hot horny. Both Johnson and I knew cocksucking was just the pre-show. My jaws didn't spread wide enough to give his cock a good sucking, anyway (who could?) I glanced up at Brad, who watched me with his face a mask of astonishment. My own son! I'm sucking a black sailor's cock in front of my own son!! Thompson pulled his cock out of my mouth. "Ain't got a lot of time, Bitch. Didn't come here for a blowjob. Get over there and assume the position!" The ultimate shame! Right in front of Brad!! But I obeyed. I dropped to all fours, my naked ass aimed back at God. Johnson shoved me, and I fell forward, my face pressing into the carpet. He spit in his hand -- that magic sound! It means I'm going to get mine! I was so embarrassed, my face felt hot, but I was so goddamned horny, my asshole felt hot, too, and I trembled. Oh God, it's been so long! Can I still take him? Then Thompson's voice boomed, "Okay, Jarhead, you get your pants down, too, and get down there with him!" I could not believe my ears. Astounded, I looked back over my shoulder. Brad was dropping his pants. I was speechless. He, too, wore no underwear! God, look at the size of the dong on that boy! -- I realized the last time I saw him naked was at least 10 years ago. What a fucking stud! . . . and no skivvies!! Before my astonished eyes -- Brad shuffled across the floor, his pants crowded at his ankles. He dropped to the floor beside me, his face in the carpet, in the same Mount-Me posture. His head turned to look at me. Neither of us could speak. "Now I fuck the father and the son, both at the same time!" Brad gave me a feeble little smile. "Sorry, Dad. Thompson's been fucking me now for two years." At that moment, Thompson's big, bulbous head pressed against my a-hole -- I remember this feeling! -- and with hands on both my hips, he slowly forced his manhood into me. Whoa, SHIT! I was out of practice to take somebody as big as Thompson! The pain was overwhelming! Wait! Gut it out! Have patience! I fought back the panic. Thompson was faster than before -- in seconds the full, huge, wondrous, terrible majesty of him sank to the balls in me. My heart pounded as those balls bumped against mine. He was in. I've done it. I got him in! I opened my eyes and looked over at Brad, but before I could say anything, Thompson, not giving me time to let my asshole and fuck-tunnel adjust to him, started pumping me like a Great Dane, jackhammering the big cock in and out. My face turned forward, uplifted in a grimace. "Angh-angh-angh-angh!" I gritted my teeth, clenched my fists, and sure enough, the pain gradually lessened, the pleasure increased, and soon my grunts of agony turned to panting purrs, and began meeting Thompson's thrusts, my ass glowing with a wonderful pleasure. I wanted to say something to my son, but I was too fuck-drunk. Thompson grabbed my poor, thinning gray hair and yanked my head back. "You like that, don't you, Bitch?" "Yeah." I was breathing so hard, I could hardly talk. "Love it . . . you know . . . how to do me . . . " I was right on the edge of no return, skyrocketing toward a blazing sun on the thrusts of his heavenly, throbbing manhood— —But he stopped! Pulled his cock out! I felt so empty, a giant void in my guts, almost like I'd given birth! I jerked my head around to see Brad arching his back in agony. Thompson's giant prong impaled my son! When he was in to the cockhairs, Thompson growled, "Tell me what you want, Little Bitch." I watched what had to be a crazy dream. "Fuck me," Brad yelped. "Ram that big thing in me and Fuck Me!" "Yeah, you both a real pair," Thompson crowed. "Both beggin' me for it." His mighty hips thrust hard against my son, driving that big crank in deep, and he began his trademark battering-ram lunges. I stared, hypnotized. Brad turned his face toward me, his mouth open, his eyes glazed with lust. Grateful lust. He loved it. So did I. My ass was on fire. I rolled onto my back and raised my legs. "Thompson . . . God, please . . . more!" Thompson pulled back, his cock sliding out of my son with a wet, slurping sound, and he moved back to me. Mounting me, he found my asshole and slammed into me full-length in a single stroke. Jesus, my eyes are popping out of my head! He moved his hands to my knees -- his missionary-style grip -- and built up to a thrust crescendo, jolting my whole body with every mighty slam. A selfish father, I hoped he would not leave me panting and go back to my son too soon. I got my wish: Thompson busted his nut with me: with a final, terminal ram, he let out a long, loud groan and unloaded his sperm deep inside me. That also did it for me. With a roaring in my ears, I came long and hard, my cum splattering up over my own chest and against Thompson's belly. Floating on a cloud of bliss, I relaxed in his power until the fire of my orgasm passed. Thompson yanked out early, though, trailing a dribble of sperm across the carpet to where Brad still crouched. "Yeah, yeah," Brad croaked, "get back here and finish me!" His cock still spurting, Thompson rammed it into the crouching Marine, who also straightened out in shock. Then he wriggled his ass, enjoying it, receiving the last of his Thompson's seed. "Yeah, you big sonofabitch," Brad purred, reaching between his legs to pat Thompson's balls. "Make me your bitch again! Can't get enough of you." For a moment, there was dead silence. Just The Man doing his last strokes in my son. When Thompson saw me watching them, he glared at me. "What's wrong with you, Bitch? Don't you see your boy ain't got his yet? I'm done here. Get over here for your son!" "What? . . . No . . . Not that!" "I said get over here, Bitch!" "Thompson . . . please! . . . He's . . . he'd never . . . not with . . . he's my son!" But by then I had obeyed, rising from the floor and moving over to crouch beside Brad on my hands and knees. Thompson stood beside me, his giant cock right beside my head. I couldn't help myself. I sucked the big thing into my mouth. Thompson's jism. And Brad's ass-juices. "I just told you to do something, Bitch. Now do it!" With that, Thompson pulled his cock out of my worshipful mouth. I kissed it as it slipped out. Then, crimson with shame, I crawled in front of Brad. I whispered, "Sorry, son," and I dropped my shoulders, aiming my asshole at the sky . . . and at him. "Naw, Daddy," Brad grunted hoarsely, "I want it! I've been dreaming of fucking you for years!" My son mounted, quickly finding the target with his dong, and "Ooomph!" He sank it in to the balls. In one stroke. He was hung. Painfully hung! Damn, I was proud! "But I want to watch you!" Brad grunted, and the strong, muscular Marine grabbed me around the waist, picked me up still impaled on his cock, grabbed one of my legs and passed his head under it, then dropped me back on the carpet -- on my back. I blinked in surprise. Hey, all right! I lifted my legs, spreading them, the soles of my feet aiming at the sky. We both looked down at our joining. I gave him a few milking-squeezes and winked. "Good boy, son. Do it." He went crazy. With a vicious lunge, he sank his cock deeper into me! My head jerked back in reflex, my eyes clenched shut, biting my lip. Instantly he stopped. "Dad, you okay? Am I that big? Damn, I don't want to hurt you!" Subduing the Captain I opened my eyes and clutched at his hips. "Don't stop, don't stop!" I hissed. "Ram that big thing up me!" The frenzy of man-sex overtook us both. We went at it seriously, grimly, his throbbing cock pumping in and out of his father, his muscular hips lunging back and forth. Brad's eyes were huge, dilated, full of lust as he stared down at me, conquering me. "God . . . Brad, you got me! . . . I'm cumming!" While he was still slogging away, my hard pecker sputtered the family sperm all over both of us! A fucking from my own son was an incredible turn-on. My ejaculations shot all the way up to my neck and spattered his chest. Brad then came in me, wrenching and yelling in triumph, gushing the family sperm back to the body it came from. We held each other in a shuddering, desperate grip as if electrocuted, petrified in ecstasy. Finally we collapsed into a panting pile of male pleasure, kissing, licking, wallowing in each other's sweat and sperm. Thompson sneered. "Cock-sluts, the both of 'em." Brad finally rolled off me, and as we lay panting in the afterglow, he looked over. "That's not bad," he said quietly. "That's good." Thompson got up, pulled his clothes back on, and walked to the door. I didn't want him to go. "Thompson, you coming back anytime soon?" He looked back. "You already itching for more, Bitch?" "Yeah, big man. Anytime you want me. Whatever you want." He frowned. "What'd I tell you to call me?" "Sir. Yes, sir. You can fuck me anytime you want. I'm your cum-slut . . . Sir." Thompson turned on his heel and walked out. I looked back at Brad and smiled. I raised my knees and spread my legs. A stream of white slime poured out of my asshole. "That's the family jism, son -- you trying to put it back where it came from?" I stroked my slimy cock. "You bred your father." His face had a touch of worry, so I added, "And I loved it!!" He smiled, reached down, scooped up some of the slime, then spread it over his own cock, stroking himself while we looked at each other. "Where did you meet Thompson?" "He's great, isn't he, Dad. Makes you know what that little hole is for." Damn, Brad is really into it. "I met him two years ago when the ship he was in put into port here. I was in the Base gym working out when he came over and started spotting for me." God, the classic approach. "Did he seduce you, son?" Brad chuckled. "Dad, I've been gay a long, long time, since the day you took me into a barracks latrine so I could go to the bathroom. I saw all those naked men in the showers, and I couldn't get over it. All those big cocks!" He reached over, brushed my hand away, and took over stroking my dong (which instantly jerked in recognition). "I couldn't get over how horny those men made me. I kept playing with myself in bed that night until I finally went over the falls. I learned how to jack off that night, Dad. I was always grateful to you for that." I ruffled his hair . . . then reached down and ruffled his cockhair. "I don't remember that." "Dad," he said, humping his hips, "you cannot imagine what it did to me to see you with Thompson." I tweaked his ear. "I'm sorry. You ashamed of me?" Brad rolled onto his side, bent his face down, and started sucking my cock. We remained like that for several minutes. Just the sound of our heavy breathing and the slurping sounds. Then Brad backed off and looked up at me. "Dad, I was afraid any second he would command me to pull down my pants, and I would have to obey. When I saw you were under his power, too, I almost cummed in my pants. I've loved your naked body all my life." "My naked body?" "You never knew about the little hole in the closet wall in my bedroom. It peeks into the bathroom on the other side. You know how many times I jacked off watching you take a shower?" Again, I was stupefied. "You know how many years I spent listening at the door while you fucked Mom?" He paused when he saw the pained expression on my face. "Dad, I was as heartbroken as you when she died. But I remember what a happy woman she was when you were making love. Sometimes I could get the door open a crack, and I was glad you two were the type to fuck with the lights on." Brad went back to sucking my cock, and I was so astonished, I did nothing but lie there enjoying the blowjob. After a few minutes, he backed off again. "Now I know how much Mom enjoyed this." I smiled. "Dad, seeing your big cock spreading Mom's snatch into a big, pink donut drove me crazy. God, I was envious! I wanted to feel you ramming it into me!" I took the invitation. Already hard from his blowjob, I dropped onto Brad, mounted him, positioned my cock at his pucker, and rammed it in, sinking it to my balls. "Unnnnnnngh! Yeah, Dad . . . ungh! . . . just like that!" Then with slow, even in-&-out strokes, I continued our father-&-son chat. "Who was the . . . unnh! . . . first guy you had . . . sex with?" "You remember . . . unnh, God, that's good! . . . Coach Denham?" I felt the dynamo starting and realized this conversation would not last long. "In high school?" "Yeah. He . . . oh, God! Right on the button! Again! Hit me there again! Annngh! . . . oh, God, yeah! . . . h-he broke me in good . . . taught me what my asshole's for . . . Annnnngh!" I glanced down. My son's asshole was a huge 'O' around my cock, his ass-lips sinking in and pulling out as my hips lunged forward and back. I smelled the hot, smarmy, sweaty aroma of male arousal, the sweetish stench of a lubricated asshole, and something new -- my son's sweat. His testosterone. His glands. My boy! When I came in my son's ass, I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. Spewing the very jism that made him, shooting it up Brad's hole, was the most emotional sex I ever had. When I finished, and he rolled over, the kissing and hugging were almost as good as the fucking. We had a great father-son relationship that weekend. Hardly got any sleep. Left the house only to get more beer and hamburgers. When Brad went back to Camp LeJeune, I missed him even more. From both ends. Life settled down again. As I feared, I had big holes in my calendar, lots of free time. And nothing to do with it. The days grew longer. The nights, even worse. I found myself living for Brad's visits. Only then did I enjoy the physical release I had grown to cherish. Occasionally I thought to find an outlet, any outlet, perhaps in an X-rated theater. Maybe in a XXX-bookstore. I drove down streets in the darker parts of town, sometimes spotting male hookers leaning against walls, sitting on the backs of benches, ghosts of human beings burned up with drug use or emotional destruction. There but for the grace of God go I -- for the time being. How long would it be before horny Alexandria perverts cruising in their cars would spot a gray-haired old man leaning pitifully against a wall holding his fly open so the world could see he could still manage a hardon? I started drinking more heavily. One night I ordered a pizza and rented a couple of male videos. Tonight I'm going to drink and jack off until I pass out from one or the other. When the doorbell rang, I walked to the door taking out my checkbook. When I opened the door, though, there stood Craig, a wet dream packed into a sailor suit. What a stud. Broad shoulders, big arms, slim waist -- he's a wedge of muscle pointing down to the Main Act behind that zipper. I smiled. His masculine frame filled the doorway, and when I invited him in, his cocky, sexy walk confirmed it -- he owned me. Once inside, he looked around, then sauntered straight up to the bar. "Got any bourbon?" What is it with sailors? The first words after "hello" are "got any booze?" I moved behind the bar and fixed him a Four Roses Super Premium (available only in Japan). He took a sip. "How you doin', Captain? Gettin' any lately?" "Not since noon." Yuk-yuk. Old joke. He set down his bourbon, moved away from the bar, and took off his uniform shirt, thrilling me because I could see from the bulge in his crotch how aroused he is for me. He knew he had turned me on -- I had dropped trou when I gave him his drink, and my cock stood at Attention. I never wore underwear anymore. He smiled. "I got something here, Captain, to straighten you out." "Yeah! Let's go to bed." My voice was husky. In the bedroom I threw off the rest of my clothes and lay back on the bed, smiling and eager. Craig crawled onto the bed and knelt between my legs, still wearing his T-shirt and skivvies. He crossed his arms across his chest and pulled the T-shirt up, giving me a good look at his broad chest. I reached up to feel the hard muscles. "You should have a ship tattooed on here, sailor. Or maybe an anchor." I rubbed my fingers in his hairy armpits and licked my lips. "It's been too long, man." He shoved his skivvies down, and his big cock hung out proudly, not yet hard but thick and meaty, with the familiar network of bulging veins. My breath caught in my throat. The cock that tamed me. "This big boy owns you," he said as if he could read my mind. I gazed at it openly, admiring the network of bluish veins threaded here and there in the velvet shaft, and I knew they enlarged and expanded with his hardon, making his erection a gnarled, virile tree root. And that bumpy, ribbed thing became an electric baton up my ass, thrilling me with every knob and bump passing through my guts. God, how I've changed. I'm a connoisseur of cocks! I notice every detail. "How do you walk around with that big thing?" I said. "Every time I get that big boy in my ass, I can't sit down for a week." He beamed proudly, and I smiled. I like to make him feel good. He moved closer and ran his hands up and down my thighs. "You look good, sir." He clamped his mouth over my right nipple, flicked it with his tongue, then sucked on it. I gasped and moaned. Whoa, this is new! The bristle of his five o'clock shadow tickled my chest -- male sandpaper. He suckled at me for a while, raising my temperature, and when I could stand no more, I lay back and raised my legs for him, tilting up my butt for his pleasure. I was available. He took my bait. He slid his cock up and down the crack of my butt until he slicked it with precum. I squeezed my ass-cheeks against it -- he was hard. Hard and big. Hard and HUGE. I trembled -- the familiar anticipation. "You want some foreplay, old man? A rim-job like old times?" "Craig, you big fucker, your foreplay was walking through my door. You got me fuck-ready by watching you take off your clothes." I reached down and positioned his cockhead at my torpedo tube. "C'mon, sailor, fuck me!" His cockhead pressed against my hole -- and I pushed the hole back at him, popping his cockhead through, leaving him a little surprised. "Goddamn, sir, you're leaving me behind!" I was breathing hard, wanting it. "So take the helm, sailor! Fire one!" Then he sank all the way into me, every last fucking inch, up to his balls. "Oh, God, God, God!" I was delirious. His cock throbbed deep inside me. The weight of his balls felt wonderful against my butt. He held still with his cock buried deep in my guts. "I never forgot you, sir, and oh, Fuck! I've wanted you bad, Captain!" "Unnnh. Craig. Fuck me, you bastard, fuck me!" He tightened his butt muscles, forcing his cock in deeper, nudging at my very core. Then he slowly withdrew most of the way -- then slid it back in again. Again. And again. And again, again, again, and soon he hit his rhythm, the fucking style that first turned me out. "Ohhh . . . Ohhhhh . . . Awwhhhh . . . " The eternal language of man-sex. "Oh, yeah," he murmured back. "You are so hot, and damn, you're tight." I smiled proudly. I looked up into his eyes, and he slowed his pace to long, slow strokes -- conversational fucking. "I missed you, old man . . . I think about you . . . all the time." "You're a good guy, Craig . . . make me feel great." I pulled his face down and kissed him. ". . . don't see how I . . . could be tight . . . not with that cock of yours . . . stretching me out." He chuckled. "You got . . . strong ass-muscles." At that, I gave him the milking squeezes, quick, sharp grips with my rectum, and he grunted with pleasure. "Fuck!! . . . tiny fingers . . . squeezing my cock . . . Damn, you're good!" He looked down at his cock chugging in and out of me, staring at the action. ". . . so fuckin' hot! . . . your asshole squeezes . . . around my cock . . . stretches and pulls out when I pull back . . . like your ass is turning inside-out." ". . . It feels like it . . . big guy . . . big cock of yours . . . rearranges my guts." He raised his head and looked down at me. I shivered and raised my face to him. "God, man, kiss me!!" He smiled and lowered his head. I think I actually whimpered like a bitch in heat when his lips brushed over mine. Or maybe that sound came from him. Who knows. He traced back and forth on my lips with his tongue, then sucked at my lower lip. I whimpered again, softly. When he backed away, my lips opened to welcome his tongue, and when our tongues touched, he gave me goose-bumps. I sucked his tongue -- and he was the one who whimpered when I did that. His hips still slugged me into sexual ecstasy as our kiss turned into a long, passionate, incredibly communicating act -- almost a strange, intimate, new form of fucking . While his cock turned my body into an inferno, our mouths poured our souls into each other. Finally he broke away, and as he stared down at me, he caught his breath with a tiny gasp. "God, what a kiss!" I couldn't stop myself: "Craig, I love you." Damn! Why did I say that?? His hips still lunged at me, his cock driving deep into my guts -- owning me -- and he kissed me again. "Fuckin' a man . . . so different from a woman . . ." I gave him several milking grips. "Careful, you might get to like it." "Already do." Then we grew quiet, and he settled into serious fucking. ". . . Gotta cum . . . been waitin' too long!" "Lemme have it!" He picked up the pace, growing violent, and I hung on for dear life. Dropping his full weight onto me, he pounded me unmercifully. As his big cock jabbed me up to heaven, I kissed and sucked at his neck, hinting, wishing he would clamp his mouth over mine so we could kiss through his climax. He tightened, and his muscles flexed and rippled, and with a long groan, his cock shot great loads of semen deep inside me. I could feel the boiling stuff! Incredible! Like an enema of sperm! "Yeah, big guy, sock it to me! Fill me up! Pump me that jizz, Craig! You made me, man, now BREED ME!" As always happened, I couldn't control myself, either. His fucking touched my sex-center, and my own cock sputtered my load out into the tight space between our two bellies, sliming it up, lubricating his movements. Finally he collapsed completely over me, his great chest heaving. Sweat dripped off his forehead and ran in rivulets from his body. I held him close, wrapping my arms and legs around him. When our heartbeats finally slowed, and we could breathe normally again, "How long have you been saving that?" "Dunno. Mabye since I found out the ship would stop in Virginia and I could get leave to come see you." He slowly withdrew his cock, and as he did, a huge stream of sperm spurted out like I was pissing from my asshole. Craig toppled off to lie beside me, winding from the embrace of my arms and legs. One of my arms remained under his neck as he lay back. "So intense . . . " he said after a long time. "God, you're good . . . When was the last time I saw you, a month ago? Back on the ship before you retired?" He was silent for a while. "Those were happy days, Captain. God, how I wish I met you in that restaurant when you were young. You coulda been my daddy." This was taking a strange turn. "You want to be my boy, Craig? You're the one with the big cock. I'm your bitch." "I've wondered about it . . . what it would be like to feel you fuck me." "Me fuck you, Craig? I -- I couldn't fuck you! I'm your bitch! You got my cherry! Fucking you wouldn't be . . . respectful!" He rolled over and looked into my eyes. "I love you, too, man." He paused, thinking. "I want to show you how much." We came together in another long, hot, message-passing kiss. I don't know how we did it -- I can't imagine what took place -- but somehow with his lips on mine, without speaking, we told each other things about ourselves that we could never put into words. As his mouth burned my lips, I understood him. Somehow I knew him. Better than before. Better than any man I knew. Maybe better than he knew himself. As we kissed, we rolled over . . . until he was beneath me, holding me against his chest with his great arms. Still the voltage passed back and forth through our lips. I felt his legs raising on either side of me, and before I knew it, his ass had rotated up until my throbbing cock was nestled in the crack of his ass. When the kiss finally ended, and we lay back, gazing into each other's eyes, I realized he knew everything about me. "I love you." We said it at the same instant! Together! In the same cadence! And at that moment, I bent him in half, pressing my body against him until his knees almost touched the mattress, and I spread his legs out wide. His sweat slicked my movements over him as I positioned my throbbing, rampant cock at his asshole, and lunge! I popped my cockhead inside! "Hnnnngh!" "It's okay, Craig, everything is fine. Remember what you taught me -- relax, take your time. I'm here all night for you." We went through the ancient man-sex rite of thrust-wait-adjust-relax over and over again until I was to the balls in Craig's tunnel. God, it was hot. Like sticking my cock in a furnace. When he finally lay back panting and eased from the tension of the entry-pain, I began the magic. With a long, slow, steady stroke, I pulled back out again, and from the angelic look on Craig's face, I knew he knew. "God fuckin' damn! . . . no fuckin' idea! . . . " And, of course, when I began the in-stroke again, he lit up even more. To cut a long, ecstatic, cherry-busting story short, we fucked on through the night, catching short naps every so often, but continuing what was essentially nonstop man-sex. When the morning light came through the windows, I was on my hands and knees, taking it doggy-style, Craig with his hands on my hips like a ship captain with his hands on the helm, his cock slogging into me like a torpedo busting through the bulkheads of the enemy. But we were not enemies. Something had changed between us. When the alarm radio came on with WCLG morning news, we looked at each other with sadness. "Well, guess it's about time I got on my way." "Yeah." He looked around us, at what we had done to the bedsheets in the night. They were wet everywhere. The whole bedroom smelled of sperm, sweat, and testosterone. "You got a big cleanup job here." "I'm going to leave it. I love the smell of you. I'm going to put these sheets away . . . and suck on them when I get to missing you . . . and jack off to the memory of you doing me here last night." He got up, then looked down at me sadly. "What am I supposed to do now? God, I miss you already." I got out of bed to stand beside him. I kissed him, and again our souls passed back and forth between us. "Craig . . . lover . . . don't you get out of the Navy sometime around February?" "Yeah." "I've got a groundskeeper/caretaker job open. It's yours if you want it." To give him a moment to think, I sank to my knees and took his cock into my mouth. "Yeah," he said slowly. "Goddamn. That will work!"