“Oh. My. God.” She says and then covers her mouth in shame. “I – I'm so sorry, master it's just that you are so big – everywhere…”
I cannot suppress a smile, “I know, little one, hop on and wrap those beautiful pouty little lips of yours around me.” Her body seems to still betray her a little bit as she wavers but then climbs up in bed with me. "Face me and go down between my legs, sweetheart. Suck it like a lollipop.”
Soon wet slurping sounds fill the room and I lose myself in the sensations her now expert tongue and mouth elicit from my rapidly growing cock.
***
Lena:
He is so big! He looks more like a grizzly bear than a human. Heavily muscled and barrel-chested, he makes me think of pictures I have seen at school of what cavemen used to look like thousands and thousands of years ago. It is with a certain degree of joy that I hasten to wrap my mouth around his cock. It is that part of him I am most familiar with, and I seek solace in the comfort of his velvety skin and tingling scent. Today is day ten since I signed my contract of service with my master Dr. Branigan. Since then, he has trained my mouth and my throat into willing receptacles for his gigantic cums. I still tremble to think of the pain and soreness that first time he pushed himself all the way down into my chest.
I doubt that I will ever forget the memory of that first deepthroating. The pain, his raw power as he buffeted his hips against my lips and face, the sensation the bending tip of his manhood caused as it battered its way into me have changed me.
After many days of training my throat, it is now more than accustomed to taking my master's cock. Sometimes I get wet merely at the memories of the unyielding steel of his flesh as it pushed into me in that unnatural way.
I close my eyes now and reminisce as I lave his cockhead with my tongue moistening his shaft before I take him into my mouth so he can spend his morning seed in me.
I feel my nostrils bristle and my skin grows hot as my knees shake with the aroma of his nightly musk that buffets me as I slowly start to swallow him. Soon I feel my nose push up against his pelvis and his hand comes to rest on my neck where millimeters away, his cock pulses with unbridled energy.
He shivers and trembles and I know his massive balls are spewing their precious cream straight into my tummy.
We lie in bed a long while after that. I have wrapped myself around his left side resting my head close to his penis, my nose inches from that part of him with which I have become more than familiar. His hand rests on my head and I feel him languidly play with my hair. I know he loves doing that and it makes me happy.
~
Learning to Nurse My Master
“Lena.”
“Yes, master.”
“Yesterday was your first full day at home since you came back from the hospital.”
“Yes master, it was.”
“Aren't you also happy to be home?”
“Yes, master. I’m very happy.” I reply in earnest honesty. “I am especially happy that there are no more shots.”
“Me too, sweetheart, me too," he hugs me tightly. "But they were necessary, believe me, sweet girl. I can already feel how much your breasts have changed since you got the first one.” I feel his strong fingers around my boob that he gently squeezes.
I look down to see his fingers gently rub around my engorged flesh and for the first time I notice a couple of veins that have gained in prominence since I last looked at myself there.
“As my live-in slave what do you think should be expected of you as far as chores around the house, sweetheart?”
His voice is pleasantly dreamy and casual but I feel my own heart speed up at his question. Is this a test? I do not want to disappoint my master.
“Anything you wish me to do, sir.”
“Of course, sweetheart. But I'm asking for your suggestions. What would you expect of your slave if you were the mistress?”
I take a deep breath. “I would expect her to run an immaculate household for her master. I would expect her to wash all the hardwood floors and tiles in the home, vacuum and clean the toilets.”
“Very well. Anything else?”
“I would make sure she knows to do his laundry, polish his shoes and have a warm meal and wine waiting on his arrival in the evening.”
He ruffles my hair. “Excellent, my dear. There you have it. These are going to be your chores for the day.”
“Master…?”
“Yes, sweetheart.”
“I have a question…”
“Yes, sweetheart…”
“Recently, since I met you, the last couple of weeks, I am almost constantly aroused in your presence. I just don't know…, but I wanted to ask when would we… You know…”
It is early morning as I lie in my master's bed. A few moments ago I woke him up as per his instructions with a quiet reading from a book of my choice. I followed this with an enthusiastic and loving worship session of his manhood.
It is the tenth day since I signed my contract of service as a submissive-in-training in Dr. Branigan's household.
During the first eight days, I was admitted into the hospital where he works as Dr. Branigan's only patient. I spent most of the time there being measured, weighed, having my endurance tested on various machines and frequently stretched and cleansed. As a result of a rigorous regimen of daily enemas I have not had a bowel movement for almost two weeks now.
I also got shots. Lots of shots.
I got most of them in my arm, but also a couple of painful ones that Dr. Branigan placed in the center of my left butt cheek. They were all uncomfortable but the most painful one by far was the shot my master gave me in my shoulder. This one he placed on the last day before I was discharged, and my arm is still sore from it.
As I lie snuggling against his heavily muscled thigh and feel the ripples of his quads beneath my naked body, I can see the unblinking eye of his giant penis resting merely an inch from my mouth.
He's older than me, much older, and yet the raw power I feel leaves me no doubt of his vigor the receptacle of which my mouth has been numerous times already. I'm still a virgin. Pure and untouched, my hymen is intact, but my mind and my soul thrum with a sexual hunger like that of a common whore.
Suddenly my mind goes limp at that thought. Is that what I am becoming? A whore! Is this all I’m meant to be?
I'm tired and groggy from a restless night and two mind-blowing orgasms my master already made me have, one of them merely by squeezing my breast.
And yet everything feels as if I am in a dream, as if the world is suddenly blurry around me. I feel the cool satin bedsheets and the heat of the naked man under my belly as we lie in bed, my head barely reaching above his waist as my toes play with his. I feel the strain and tension of his knee as it gently, mindlessly, rubs against the wet darkness of my triangle.
And I know I’ve never been happier in my life.
Is that what I am becoming? A mindless whore?
A whore. Or am I to become his slave girl. That is what he keeps calling me after all. The words swirl all around my mind as I feel his long fingers play with my hair and I cherish the relaxed repose in his bed that is so much warmer and softer than my own.
A slave. The idea is absurd and outrageous but I feel the familiar thrum in my belly that is now constantly there when I’m in his presence. It grows in intensity as I mull it over.There is a strange sense of attraction to being his slave.
His slave girl – his property.
I am going to be owned by someone strong and powerful who I would have to obey in everything and always. But I do I really want to be owned? Is this life for me?
At only twenty I am a girl of the twenty-first century, mindless and blissfuly forgetful of women's past burdens. Because I have been the sole caregiver of my ailing elderly mother I have had little time for a real social life, little time to be brainwashed into a mindless little strumpet addicted to social media and the Internet. Surely my lack of worldly experience is a rare virtue and
not something to be ashamed of!
The very idea of me being a slave strikes me as outrageous. But then, it also fascinates me.
A slave girl is an object, a possession and so I couldn't also be a slut or a whore. Nothing I do or happens to me is my fault. Just as long as I obey my master. I smile. There is freedom in being a slave.
Mother would call this irony.
“Lena." His voice makes me jump. I was lost in thought.
“Yes.”
I feel his hand tighten in my hair. "You were asking me a question. Were you daydreaming?”
“S-sorry, master," I stammer. “I wanted to ask you if we could hurry up and do it already. It's just that the wait — it's killing me.”
I can see him looking down at me, a mischievous twinkle in those beautiful bottomless dark eyes of his.
“What wait is that?” He asks but I can tell from his voice that he knows and is playing with me. I breathe and groan in exasperation. Then I giggle and blush choosing to look away at his throbbing tumescence that appears to have reawakened. Its sight has become something familiar to me, its musk and taste — something of a welcome relief to my anxieties.
“My virginity,” I whisper, my lips brushing against the velvety hardness of his head. Where I am on his body I virtually spoke at his penis like into a microphone and this realization makes me giggle with nervous tension.
“I didn't hear you.” His fist now painfully tightens in my hair that he pulls and makes me look up at him.
“Ouch! You're hurting me,” I state the obvious but instead of lifting my arms to push him away, my left hand absently finds the familiarity of his testicles and I wrap my fingers around them. The sheath of his flesh is thick and hot and still wet with my saliva from the blowjob as I massage it and look at him pleadingly.
I can see him smile but his eyes grow deathly serious.
“I want you to form a proper question, Lena. Not speak in little girlish innuendos.” His eyes bore like daggers into mine and I blush in shame. “I know you have not been to college yet but you're a smart girl and if you don't push yourself, I will. In fact that makes me wonder about homeschooling you.”
“Homeschooling?”
“Yes I don't know if your mother told you, but besides my degree in medicine, I have a PhD in biochemistry and a bachelor of arts in medieval literature. I think I am more than qualified to be your teacher. Don't you?”
“Oh… I – yes, master.”
“Now, ask me your question properly.”
“I, I'm… I was hoping that by now we would have… You would have slept with me!” I finally blurt out. He smiles and his free hand comes to rest on my face. He is so big that his fingers encircle my jaw from ear to ear.
“My sweet little girl,” he smiles and pulls me up to him and kisses me, his tongue is strong and probing as it washes over mine. I realize his cock that I now have in my hand, has grown immensely making it impossible for me to encircle it with my fingers. I keep pumping across its head as I look back at him.
His fingers move down from the cusp of my jaw to squeeze at the base of my neck. I can breathe but his expert hands apply pressure at the arteries along my neck cutting off my blood supply and soon my vision narrows and I start feeling increasingly lightheaded. His grip relaxes and he kisses me again.
“You have beautiful eyes, slave.”
“Thank you, master.”
“You are welcome. The deepest sexual penetration is of the mind, Lena.” He sees my befuddled look and elaborates, “Do you know who said that?”
“No, Master.”
“Marquis De Sade. One of the greatest, if misunderstood geniuses of our past. If I undertake your tutelage, we will be sure to include a lot of readings from his works.”
“Yes, master.”
“But back to your question. I cannot wait to take you, sweetheart. If you have longings for my cock, rest assured that scarcely a moment goes by without me having to restrain myself from grabbing you and ripping your tight little body apart, plunging deep into its center and cumming until you see stars in daylight.”
My eyes must have grown big like saucers because he laughs in that manner which I find increasingly endearing.
“But if I just went ahead and did that, what would that make me? Lena? Tell me.”
“My lover?”
“Exactly. But I am not your lover. Am I?”
“You are not?” I'm genuinely mystified now. I thought that having me naked virtually twenty-four seven and having free access to my body definitely made a man my lover.
Maybe not all men treated their women the same way as my master treated me, but surely most of them did! Didn’t they? How naïve can I be?
“It is okay, sweetheart,” he gently pats me on the top of the head, in the way that owners would pat a well behaved dog. “I know you're not yet versed in the formality of our dynamic. Do you remember the contract you signed ten days ago?”
“Yes, master.”
“Good! And there it stipulated who I am?”
“Yes.”
“So, who am I?”
“My master.”
He kisses me now for a long, long time and the thrumming in my center shifts into little convulsions that start to come slow but ever so violently, rocking my pelvis where it leans into his heavily muscled upper thigh.
“Good girl. Yes, I am your master and not your lover. You will soon learn that being in charge of you puts me in a position of responsibility. I am now somewhere between a lover and a father to you. Perhaps even both in your mind. We cannot allow my lust for you to overwhelm my responsibilities. Especially not during this most fragile time in your life when you are getting your first training as a submissive.”
“Training?”
“Yes, training. Training in obedience. You are a natural submissive and have done wonderfully so far. But there is still a long way for you to go. There is much you need to learn.”
A violent spasm rocks my body and he let's go of my neck with one hand still holding onto my hair with the other. He cups my pussy and starts rubbing gentle circles around my clit. I pump him harder with my first and soon my mind seizes up as the third orgasm of the morning slams into my body blotting out my vision for long moments until I regain my breath.
“I came, master,” I whimper softly informing him of my climax as per his instructions from before.
“Good girl.” He kisses my forehead.
“Do you love me, sweetheart?” I should be outraged that he should even ask but I merely nod. Surely he overheard that I told mom as much earlier. He brings me in against his powerful chest and I snuggle into his warm embrace.
“You're precious, little baby. In time, I will take you. I promise you. Your pussy, and your butt, and your mouth, and your entire body, are all mine and I will claim them soon enough. But first we need to firmly establish your trust in me and teach you things that require time.”
“Do I need to earn it? Earn the right to be taken by you, master?”
“Yes, in a way you do. But rest assured I truly hope this moment comes as soon as possible. Every instant that I don't claim you for real is pure withering pain for me.” His voice is husky and deep.
“Really?”
“Yes, sweetheart. Really.”
This morning we have breakfast in the living room. He is wearing his gray three-piece business suit and blue tie that nicely accentuate his dark tan.
He eats what I consider to be a gargantuan portion of ham and eggs morsels of which he feeds me as I kneel affectionately at his feet by the couch. I'm still getting used to the taste of meat. My mom raised me strictly vegetarian but master says I need my strength, and that I need to eat meat, and so I obey.
“I have a gift for you sweetheart.” My heart skips a beat. It has been a long, long time since my mother could afford birthday gifts and beside the good doctor, we knew next to nobody else. He laughs when he sees my surprise.
“Yes, a few gifts actually,” he smiles. “Go
on! Go get them. They are wrapped in black paper and tied with red ribbons on the table by the entrance. Bring them over.”
I can hardly contain my excitement as I run over and bring four beautifully wrapped boxes. I lay them by the couch and kneel down expectantly.
The packages are numbered. Something in the way my master looks at them and then at me makes me shiver and for the first time, I question my eagerness to unwrap them.
"Hurry on now, sweetheart," he says. "I have to be leaving for work soon and you have a long list of house chores to get through before the end of the day. So let’s best get started shall we?"
"Yes, master." I reach out for the first package and gingerly pick it up from the ground. I have to use both hands for it is quite heavy. As I start unwrapping the expensive thick paper, something metallic clings within. Finally I open it and gasp.
"Stand, please and hand them to me," my master instructs. I take the heavy gold chains from within the big black box and hand them to Dr. Branigan as I gingerly stand from my knees and approached him where he is sitting on the couch.
“This here,” he says picking up the longer chain, “Is to be worn around your waist. It is very long and even though the links are not big, the gold it is made out of and its length, make it heavy indeed. It will serve many functions but first and foremost you will wear it around your waist.” He looks at me to make sure I understand.
“Yes, master,” I say and he reaches around my waist and starts weaving the heavy chain once and then twice and then a third time around my pelvis just below my navel. I look down and a deep shiver traverses my body. The shimmering gold links of the chain make a strangely erotic sight as they press against my tummy.
A soft click secures the ends of the chain together and I yelp when he smacks me once on each butt cheek.
Lena’s Journey, Volumes One through Seven Page 9
