This is part 1 of a series. If people enjoy this I will continue posting the rest of the story.
*****
I am on all fours, my thong-clad ass perkily jutting up into the air. I can feel the oil he's poured over my body begin to drip across my shaved, bleached asshole. He runs his calloused hands across my body. Partially he's doing this to spread the oil, but mostly it's to remind me that he owns my flesh.
You are a slave,
his hands say
When his hands reach my cock he laughs feeling how hard I am.
"You really learned to love me didn't you slut," he mockingly says.
I try to groan a response but all that escapes my mouth is some spit that has accumulated from his thick cock being forced deep into my throat. The makeup he forces me to wear lays smeared across my face. The mixture of spit, stomach bile, mascara, and foundation so completely masks my features that I can barely open my eyes.
I am trained to hold his eight inches down my throat for minutes at a time, but now I feel myself beginning to gag. My back convulses as my body tries to force the intrusion out of my throat.
"Arch that back bitch," he commands, emphasizing the point with a slap to my ass.
I steady myself as I feel fresh stomach bile begin to back up in my throat. His left hand immediately goes to the back of my head. He presses down forcibly so that my face is pressed into the puddle of spit around his groin. He laughs as he rubs my face into this puddle, further driving home the point that I am nothing but a sex slave. I am beneath him, an object for his gratification. I would barely say I'm a sexually toy at this point. In truth I am something lower, something for his amusement, an object to be humiliated and laughed at as he debases me past what either of us would have thought possible.
As if to emphasize this degradation he smacks the side of my head a few times calling me a "good slut" in the process.
A few minutes of have my face further pushed into his groin pass before I feel a pull on my collar. He's yanking my leash so that my mouth his pulled from his cock. The separation of his cock from my throat makes a suction sound. Long globs of spit and mucus connect my face to his groin. He takes his unsheathed cock, wet with my bodily fluids, and rubs the shaft across my face.
"What should we do now bitch?" he asks with a smirk on his face, knowing I have few options of what I am allowed to say.
"However I can please you master," I hear myself say.
He cannot see it due to the vile covering of my face, but even after all these months tears still come when I'm forced to call him master. And whenever those tears fall I'm forced to think about the path that led me to being his slave.
I will not bore you with the specifics of the situation that led to my descent into the debased state of existence in which I now find myself. Let's be honest, you're not here to read the financial details of an irresponsible twenty-two year old man. You don't care about how that twenty-two year old lost his job, how he couldn't pay the rent, how he gambled just to make enough money to eat. You don't care that he lost big and had no other options. You're not here to read a sob story about a young man. You're here to read about the degradation of that man. You're hear to read about me choking to the point of passing out on cocks, about my face being covered in semen, about the first time I was forced to lick my owner's ass. You want to know about what it felt like when I was forcibly fucked in the ass the first time. Maybe you're an older man with fantasies of being master of a boy-toy of your own. Perhaps you're a young man who finds twisted pleasure in the idea of being placed in the situations I will describe. No matter your reasoning for being here, I'm positive the particulars of initial loss of my freedom are of little interest.
So let's start where we both know you want me to:
I was naked, sitting back on my knees as I gripped my ankles. I had never been in front of another man without my clothes on, let alone on my knees in such a vulnerable position. I felt helpless. I was completely at the whims of the middle age man seated on the couch ten feet away.
He was clothed in a silk bathrobe with nothing but a pair of tight grey briefs underneath. His legs were spread wide so that the significant growing bulge straining against the cloth of his underwear was obviously visible.
"Crawl to me bitch."
I hesitated for a moment. Undressing and posing for another man's entertainment had, before this afternoon, been beyond my imagination. The thought of what other activities I was about to be forced to engage in paralyzed me to the floor.
"Hurry up, bitch."
It was the repetition of the title
bitch.
That one word encompassed the truth of the situation; I was beneath this man, he had claimed ownership over me and his commands must be obeyed.
I crawled forward slowly approaching his open legs. As I got closer his hand reached out and grasped the back of my head. He pulled my face into his crotch. A groan escaped him, as my entire world suddenly became the space between his legs. The bulge pressed against my face. I breathed in the musky scent, nearly vomiting. His thighs seemed like walls closing in around my face, abruptly creating the sense that I was miniscule against his might.
With a grunt he reach down and pulled his penis from the briefs.
My face was immediately pressed into his balls.
"Breath deep bitch, you're going to learn to like that smell."
