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C h a p t e r  O n e

Her door clicked shut behind me, signaling the beginning of our first real session. Mistress Dominique and I had been somewhat heterosexual lovers in the recent past and that had evolved into a unique friendship, which through my introduction of her to S&M had brought us to this beginning.

We met during my divorce. She was 5′9 in her stocking feet, half-Spanish, half African American, so her looks, skin and body were from fantasyland. Classic beautiful features of Mediterranean and African were sculpted over her face, and a deep copper glow appeared over her skin when excited. Her breasts were large. She wore a 44-DDD bra and, for a woman in her late 30’s, only a natural sag because of their tremendous volume. Large, dark nipples, the thickness of my pinky finger and slightly over an inch in length, jutted out from expansive deep and dark, copper-colored areolas. Her ass, one of the first sights I had of her, was marvelous, a modified bubble ass of her maternal African American heritage–but a little more wide for her size and perfect!“Take off your clothes, now, Cumslut!” her strong voice commanded from behind me.

I immediately obeyed. My cock jutted out through my jockeys as I pulled them down and within me a warm glow, a fever of sorts, a feeling of total submissiveness, burned. Harder and longer than I could ever imagine, or remember my cock became completely the center of my consciousness. I knew what to expect somewhat and this 6.5 organ controlled me completely; my bliss to do whatever she wanted just to have this epitome of erections.

My divorce was over my latent homosexual urges, ones I had had as a teenager but had suppressed completely. My wife reacted badly when I came out to her about my urges. And not long after that, I began going to Adult Bookstores and watching gay films, masturbating incessantly. A few times I slid my hardon through the Glory Hole and was pleasured by a gay in the next booth. So much did I want to kneel and service a cock with my mouth! But something inside me held me back…

Dominique and I had gone out once; we had a good time, dinner, a show, and few drinks and because she was open and intelligent, I opened up to her like I did to me wife. Why? I am not sure, but I knew if I attempted to have a sexual relationship with her (and I did want too badly!) the same dysfunction that had been occurring with my wife would haunt me. So I gambled.

She reached up under my legs and gripped my balls tightly as she commanded, “Place your hands behind you.” She secured cold steel handcuffs on my wrists. The fever deepened; my cock jumped and pre-cum spilled from its opening and I sensed a deepening fever, a deepening surrender to my Mistress. “Now kneel, Cumslut,” she said and held onto my cuffed wrists, pulling my arms up as high as they would go as I knelt.

In the long run, my gamble paid off. After our date she said she wanted to see me again, but not right away. She gave me her phone number, told me to call the next night and we would continue our talk about my sexuality. I did. For the next three weeks we talked almost every night. She advised me to see a therapist. I did not. She advised me to give into my lust and kneel to the Glory Hole. Eventually I did.

A Friday after work, in a booth, my cock as hard as ever, and I knelt down and slipped my finger through the opening. The occupant stood and slid the biggest, blackest hard cock I had ever seen into my open, waiting mouth. The taste was acrid, salty, yet a comfortable feeling and a fever of lust swept through me. I wanked as I sucked on this cock, and within a few minutes I shot a load all over my pants. I stood, leaving black the erection pulsating through the hole, moist from my saliva, beckoning, jumping in anticipation of more. But I ran from the store and got in my car. Within five minutes I had another erection as I drove in a stunned state, completely astonished at how turned on I was, how I had enjoyed the taste, the warmth of that cock deep in my mouth. With this rainbow of feelings overwhelming me, I foolishly wanked as I drove, finally cumming insanely as I sped 55 mph down a familiar road.

She released my hands and they dropped and hit my ass. “My little Cumslut, this is our true first session. The other ones were role-play and useless. You have awakened dangerous elements within my true sadistic nature. I now yearn to punish you, to dominate you. I have become the woman in those magazines, a dominating bitch with an insatiable pussy that moistens at the thought of whipping a Cumslut like you.”

A secure blindfold slipped over my eyes; I could not see a thing. My breathing was noticeably heavier, and I shuddered inside. A fear that was as deep as my fever fed my cock.

“I see your little wank is standing taller than ever, Cumslut. Know I did not give you permission to be erect, so I need to punish you already. My, oh, my, we haven’t even begun and I am dripping already awaiting your upraised, bare ass. Then I can paint a painful masterpiece of welts over you ass and legs. Three times only will I ask you this, and, at the third time, if you answer yes, your fate is sealed as my slave forever or until I trash you like the Cumslut you are. Do you wish to continue submitting to me as my slave knowing full well that all of the scenarios you have told me, written to me, et cetera, I am eager to live out?”

“Yes, I am.”

The sound of her slap across my face resounded in the room as powerfully as the pain spread through my head as it reeled backwards from the force of the blow.

“Don’t you ever speak to me without addressing me as Mistress,” she said as a second equally powerful blow landed on the other side of my face.

“Do you understand, slave?”

From a place far away came her words because the word pain buzzed like a six-foot gnat in my brain.

“Yes, Mistress.”

In the silence that followed, the gnat shrunk and I became aware that my cock jumped with lust at the tall figure I guessed was still standing in front of me. It surely was vomiting its pre-cum on the floor. I could’ve cum right then, but held off.

If my little slave could speak, it would have begged her to whip me, to torture me, to take me to the dark recesses of my imagination that I had revealed to her. Everything she was doing was what I had suggested to her be part of our sessions, when it came about. I had told her to be imaginative and sadistic.

Dominique was interested in my story of the Glory Hole. She had asked me a thousand questions. Then, she scolded me for not tasting the black cocks cum, for running away from my bliss and jacking-off while driving. Her advice was to go back to the Glory Hole and suck all night if I felt like it.

I did take her advice, although it was at another place. The Garden Theatre was an adult movie place that had a small gay film showing, Glory Hole Heaven. I went, and to my delight I found myself in a dark alcove that ran the length of the mini-gay theatre. The smell of cum was adrift on the stale air. My cock jumped to attention as I walked into the darkness.

It was completely dark. I could sense people were in there, but could not see a thing. Within moments a hand grabbed my hard cock, an arm slid about my shoulders, and I was face to face with a man who enjoyed kissing and fondling me. My hand found a nice size cock jutting out his opened fly, and I jerked it slowly. He tried to kiss me, and I turned away not wanting to do it. He persisted and I gave in only because I wanted to suck the meat in my hand.

His tongue slipped into my mouth; the taste of what must be cum filled me. He had recently sucked a cock. The kiss bored me, except for the cum taste. That had an effect like a drug on my being. I slid to my knees and grabbed the cock and jammed it into my eager open mouth. He moaned as I sucked. His hand came to my head and he pulled it toward him as his member slid down my throat. I pulled my head back to breathe, feeling successful and accomplished; I had taken this cock so deeply without practice, almost naturally. Just like the guys in the movies.

“Yeah, baby, take it all,” he moaned as he pulled my head toward him. My nose dug into his pants as I could feel its head trying to go further down my throat. Time stood still as I wanked, and miraculously his load splashed down my throat as my own shot into the darkness. We both seemed to cum forever, but finally I stood. But not until after licking every remaining drop of cum from his shaft. The taste was magical.

“So you want to be my slave, Cumslut?” she asked rhetorically. “Well, you got what you wished for in me, baby. Open your mouth and swallow this pill; it’s Viagra. It’ll keep you goin’ when the tough part gets here.”

Her tone revealed the inherent sarcasm in the use of the term ‘baby.’ Just as the guy had said it in the theatre before. I had told her every last detail of that experience. That was the first time she had called me a cumslut. We both laughed at that, but she reiterated she was serious. I was a cumslut and should act on it, especially if the idea of being with a man like I had been with women was repulsive to me.

“You say you want punished for being a Cumslut and for sucking guys off. You want humiliation and torture baby, you’ll git in spades. Stand up!”

Slowly standing, feeling disoriented as her hand grabbed my balls. She slowly squeezed and twisted. The pain shot through me.

“Do you want me to squeeze harder, Cumslut?”

“Do as you will, Mistress.”

Her other hand bounced off my face just as powerfully as before.

“Answer my questions directly, Cumslut!”

“Yes, Mistress, squeeze harder.”

And she did. Bright lights of pain shot through my blinded eyes and my stomach turned. I must have partially fainted because I found my self on the floor; her boot resting at my throat, partially blocking my breathing.

“Cumslut, do you wish me to strangle you with my boot?”

“No, Mistress.”

Her hand reached and grabbed a fistful of hair, and she pulled with strength that I found amazing. “Up on your knees, slave,” and somehow I was on my knees in a second.

“I want you to know,” she said in a different tone, “that if you had said yes to my last question, I could’ve complied with your wishes. Do you understand, Cumslut?”

I paused and was rewarded with a face slap.

“Answer me!”

“Yes, Mistress, I understand.”

“I doubt that’s true, but nevertheless Cumslut, do you wish to continue as my slave?”

The third time she asked.

Fear now pushed against my throat, and I gambled by pausing slightly. Then, I answered with the only response possible. Where else could I be in the situation I was in, being treated the way I was with as beautiful a Mistress as any man would want? Needless to say, I spoke through my cock, which was as hard as ever.

“Yes, Mistress, I want to be your slave.”

“That’s a good little Cumslut. I knew the answer before your wank told you to say yes. I saw it’s hardness the whole time. What a pathetic piece of shit you are, Cumslut. I questioned whether you were telling me the truth when you suggested this. I never imagined that until recently all those pics you sent and all those stories were your true delight. I have told you over and over to be the gay you are meant to be and you can’t! So I have you now forever. You are on par with my dildo, only a toy for sexual pleasure and amusement to be stored away until needed. And oh will you ever amuse me and my friends.”

After I had parted from that guy in the dark, I bumped into another, another, and another. All were delighted to cum down my throat. Dominique had me going to the Garden as often as I could, sometime a week or two in a row every night!

My enslavement had begun before either of us was aware of it; she didn’t command it, but just suggested activities and I would obey the suggestion and then report to her how many cocks I sucked and whatever else happened.

It was during that cocksucking mania time that I found an S&M magazine called “Bitches In Boots.” I devoured shelves of them, wrote next to the pics my desire for this or that and sent them to her. Letters spelling out scenarios of what she could do. And finally, only two months ago we had two sporadic sessions, unlike this; role-play actually, a little of not too much.

She had not the voice or the posture. Play-acting only! These were a disappointment. I had not said anything to her, but had decided we should not do it any more because it was not worth it. I never was able to cum or really get hard. I was able to bring her orally to orgasm several times [an absolute delight!], but…

Then, she called only two days ago. Miraculously, all was in place, the voice, and the tone. She had me wanking off over the phone, telling me that this Friday was the day. And the session would probably last all weekend through Sunday evening late. To be prepared!

Kneeling in the silence, awaiting her next move, I came up above the feverish waters I was drowning in and had a flash of reality, but only for a second.

The third time;the third question. And I had answered yes, and my cock rejoiced, and my mind swam in an ocean of conflicting emotions and wild thoughts. My cock easily defeated me. It was I now.

I never asked how it all came about, but as I knelt there, who cared. I am hers to do with, as she likes.

But good God, she said she could have choked the life out of me with her boot; I would be an amusement, a useless dildo, for her AND her friends. Suddenly, like a drowning man, I truly began to know fear. Yet it only made my cock harder.

-To be continued…-

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by John Bridge