Steadily Shown His Place

This will likely be the last installment of this story. The events I describe here may be the end of the 5 year arrangement between Jim and me, though on more than one occasion I have tried to quit seeing him and failed, so I guess we will see. We may yet see another chapter.

For those of you who have not read previous chapters, the very briefest of summaries is this...Jim is a very well endowed guy in his mid-30's. He works a series of hourly jobs, isn't in great shape, and likes to smoke weed rather than work. But, his cock is a full 8", and is as thick as a can of Red Bull. Sexually he is a genetic freak of nature, he can easily cum 5-6 times in a marathon sex session, can last forever as he pounds away, and doesn't even soften between orgasms. On top of that, he can do all of this a couple of times a day, and never get enough. Simply stated, no exaggeration, if a woman ends up in his bed she is ruined for other guys. He is sweet and caring with women. But with guys it is another story. With guys he is a hard core humiliation Dom. He is highly skilled at using his huge cock to reduce men to drooling cock slaves, then forcing them to do anything and everything he asks.

I am a very successful international executive. I fly all over the world and live what many would consider the good life. I live in a beautiful home, drive a gorgeous BMW, eat at all the best restaurants and have a wine collection that totals hundreds of bottles. Tall, thin, good looking and very fit...a former marathon runner. But...I am cursed with a very, very small cock...almost 4", well 3 ¾" when fully hard. And I crave really big cocks, which is nearly impossible to get when you are cursed down there yourself. At this point I would suggest you read the previous chapters, but bottom line is I have been meeting Jim regularly for about 5 years, doing anything he tells me to do (including only calling him Mr. Smith) and paying him $50 for the privilege of servicing him.

It had been about three weeks since I had seen Jim last, he requires a minimum of a monthly visit or I have to pay his fee for that month anyway. The day before I had felt the familiar urgent need, and he permitted me to schedule a time. Our session had been fairly typical of sessions over the years. Jim greeted me with a warm handshake and I handed him his iced coffee and condoms in both our sizes. We chatted briefly just inside the front door as he watched me strip down and fold my clothes neatly on to a chair. My cock was about three quarters erect as I undressed; a requirement of Jim's when I arrive as a show of respect. Jim never shows any sign of noticing my jutting cock, but I know he checks. As I followed him to his back bedroom/ computer room Jim gestured to the cleaning supplies that were stacked on the floor in his bathroom. 'Come in and let me know when you are done' was all he said, and since he often made me clean his bathroom when I arrived I couldn't really pretend I didn't get his meaning.

Jim's bathroom is generally disgustingly dirty; I am convinced he allows it to get that way intentionally knowing I have to clean it. I am sure he doesn't do any kind of cleaning at all between my monthly visits. So the work is hard and disgusting, and there is something deeply degrading about being naked and on your knees scrubbing floors and toilets and bathtubs. But I set to the task with an efficiency of having done it many times, the only sign that I minded was my cock shrinking to its totally flaccid state. After about 35 minutes of steady hard work I had it done to a true shine, my knees and back aching from the effort and a sheen of sweat had covered my upper body. I walked in to the back bedroom to find Jim texting and emailing, presumably with some of his collection of very busty regular FWB's who line up to get in his bed.

'The bathroom is ready for you to inspect Mr. Smith' I mumbled with my eyes downcast. The shame of doing the cleaning is tolerable, but his insistence that I ask him to inspect my work has always been hard to swallow. Jim ignored me for a good three minutes as he continued to type and chuckle, finally signing off and looking up. I knew better than to repeat myself while standing and waiting, I knew he expected me to just wait.

Jim got up from his chair and brushed past me to the bathroom. I followed closely behind to hear his verdict. About half the times Jim will insist there is some small flaw in my cleaning and direct me to come get him when I have it done right. But today he took it a step further. Jim glanced around the spotless tile and porcelain, then bent over and lifted the seat of the toilet. He angled himself back to me, fumbled a bit at his belt, and then the unmistakable sound of urination in to the toilet began. After a long steady leak Jim finished, put everything away and turned to the sink to wash. Only now did he turn and speak to me. 'Why don't you rescrub the toilet and sink, then wash up and come in.'

I seethed at this intentional humiliation, he couldn't even bother to flush, but said nothing and set to cleaning the splattered toilet and sink again.

When I was finally done to Mr. Smith's satisfaction I was permitted to come in to the bedroom and begin servicing him.

The session itself was pretty standard. As always it began with foot and leg massage, all a build up to having to spend a long time stroking the area around his crotch without permission to touch the huge hose outlined by his shorts as my throbbing cock drooled in to its condom. Eventually I always earn Jim pulling it out, and after some more groveling I am allowed to suck and slurp alternating between his monster shaft and balls. Nearly every session is two loads, Jim taking my ass with the first load, then after a brief condom change I have to give him a very long jaw and back breaking blowjob to completion.

So we had finished, and Jim was lying back contented from my hard work and his repeated orgasms. As usual I was sent for a warm washcloth and thoroughly cleaned him, disposed of his condom, then went to his kitchen and brought him a cold beer. At this point Jim is always fully dressed again, enjoying his beer, and likes to sit and chat about local sports and recent huge breasted women he has bedded. I am always naked, rock hard and aching to cum, and know I cannot so much as touch my throbbing cock in Jim's home. So while Jim likes to chat, I can barely form a coherent sentence as my aching dick is the center of my world.

But today took a completely unprecedented and shocking turn in one simple question from Jim.

'So Skip, are you seeing anyone?'

Jim had never once asked me about women in my life, other than very high level generalities about my history with women. So while he had insisted I tell him about my history of bra sizes I have managed to get on the floor (nothing bigger than B cup) he never asked about specific women. So his question was a shock, and temporarily took my attention from my throbbing balls, but all I could manage was a stunned grunt. 'Huh?'

'Are you seeing anyone? Is that too tough a question in the state you're in?' he snickered with an eye drop to my relentlessly hard cock.

Jim couldn't possibly have known, but I was in the midst of a wonderful nascent relationship. But Jim couldn't possibly have known that.

'Uh yeah, sort of. Yeah I guess' was all I could mumble. It all felt like a personal invasion, like a line had clearly been crossed and I suddenly desperately wanted to hurriedly dress and leave.

But Jim was oblivious to my discomfort, and pressed on. 'So tell me about her. What's her name, how long have you been seeing her, does she have big tits?'

Danielle and I had been seeing each other for almost six months. We met through a local singles board, connecting through our shared passion for liberal world politics, and bonding through our similar high energy sense of humor and love of playful debate. She was twelve years my junior but was unabashed admitting she preferred older men. She was a young attorney and smart as a whip. I was glad I had met her online, sight unseen, because her first impression is always her striking beauty, and it was her intelligence, sense of humor and energy that had attracted me. Danielle is tall, about 5'8" with a thin athletic figure. She is an avid runner, and very fit. Her dark eastern European features are smoky and mysterious, with big brown eyes that are always ready to laugh. She loves good wine, and to be spoiled with fine dining. I was very, very smitten.

But the question was hanging out there, and it was honestly terribly uncomfortable to talk about something that felt so private while naked with a now sagging erection. My urgent need to relieve my balls had evaporated. So I answered Jim, but honestly have no idea what I said. I babbled something about her being young and pretty and an attorney. About not seeing each other as often as we would like with busy professional lives in the past six months.

'Sounds great Skip, but answer the question, does she have big tits?' Jim has always been pretty one dimensional about women, and can be very, very selective, so his focus on bra size was not surprising.

I delayed and stammered, but eventually had no choice but to answer. 'Well, uh, well, not real big, um not really. They're about the right size I guess.' By now I was completely limp with my shriveled cock barely able to hold on to its condom.

Jim laughed loudly. 'What the hell is about the right size? What does that mean? How small are they, give me a cup size.' Jim smelled blood, and was clearly enjoying himself.

I felt trapped and literally naked and saw no way to avoid the question. The truth was that Danielle had the figure that is stereotypical of women runners...long legged, lean and fit, but with very little in the bustline. And there was no dancing around it. 'Uh, well I don't know. About an A cup I guess.' Normally an articulate and confident speaker, Jim had reduced me to incoherence.

But now Jim suddenly broke in to an evil grin. He clearly knew it was time to go for the jugular, and was cherishing the moment. 'You've never seen them have you. Six months of dating and you have never gotten her bra off have you? ' Jim knew the answer, and was delighted.

Danielle and I had an intense connection from the day we first met. Our long dinners, bottles of wine and spirited debates over candlelight quickly led to touching and tenderness. But it never quite led to intimacy. Busy lives, early morning flights, buzzing blackberrys always seemed to interfere. But finally, just the weekend before our schedules suddenly seemed to have finally parted, and Danielle arrived at my condo to spend a Saturday night making dinner over a bottle of fabulous Pinot Noir. I was certain that the evening would finally end with her in my bed. Jazz played, wine and risotto satisfied. Kitchen clean up, and a second bottle of wine had us laughing, touching, and finally and leaning against the kitchen counter passionately kissing. Our midsections were pressed together, making no secret of my arousal. My hand slid up her side to toward her clothed breast, only to encounter a firmly placed elbow. Danielle's hand slid up to my chin and gently pushed me back with her index finger.

'I'm not ready' was all she said. I looked puzzled, so she continued. 'I don't know why, but I'm not quite ready, I hope you can understand'.

What choice did I have...chivalry mandates graciousness and I complied. But I am guessing the blue balls were a major part of what had me emailing Jim with urgency two days later.

'No' I mumbled to Jim.

'No what ' he demanded in obvious glee. 'Have you seen her boobs or not?'

'No, I haven't seen her breasts' I admitted in shame.

Jim knew there was more fun to be had. 'And you haven't fucked her?'

I just shook my head, I couldn't answer.

'Not even a hand job?' Jim pushed on in apparent glee and I just shook my head again.

'You are pathetic Skip, I'm telling you I could fuck this chick on a first date. You know it's true too.'

Jim seemed quite pleased with himself and I didn't debate his meaningless boast, so I thought I might finally be able to escape. But rather than getting permission to get dressed and go Jim let me know he was nowhere near done. 'Skip, get me another beer, I want to hear more about this chick.'

I tried to protest. 'Mr. Smith, can't I just go.' I was a little stunned I had actually said that, Jim had always demanded complete obedience, but he let me off the hook.

'Just get me a beer and kneel on the floor, we have more talking to do.' I scampered off to get his beer. My shrunken cock could no longer hold its condom, so I deposited it in the trash with its load of pre-cum. I brought Jim his beer, and kneeled on his hardwood floor.

Jim appeared to be in deep thought, not usually his natural state. 'Skip, I want to meet this chick.'

I looked horrified, I sensed he was actually serious, and was speechless.

Jim pushed on. 'Here is what I am thinking. I'm thinking the three of us are going out for drinks. You can choose the place, some place with some nice booths where we can all sit nice and cozy. Some place where she will be comfortable.'

I was in shock, he clearly wasn't joking, though I hoped at any moment he would laugh it all off. He didn't.

'I want you to tell her everything before we meet. I want her to know you have been my cock bitch for the last five years. Tell her you pay me for it. Tell her EVERYTHING.' Jim drew out the last sentence as his vision of the evening took hold.

'Jim, you can't make me do this. I can't, there's no way she will do it.' I blurted out.

Jim's face turned dark. 'What did you call me?' he snapped.

I realized my error, and correcting it reconfirmed my momentarily forgotten role. 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry Mr. Smith. But I can't tell her, please don't make me do this.'

Jim got up and moved to his computer. He talked quietly as he tapped and clicked. 'Skip, you are going to do this. You are going to figure out how to tell her everything and still get her to come for a nice evening with the two of us. And I know what you are thinking. You are thinking it's probably worth me cutting you off so you don't have to do this.' Jim's back was to me as he sat at his keyboard, and I was kneeling on my aching knees staring at the floor. And yes, that was exactly what I was thinking. But as usual Jim was several steps ahead of me. 'You are going to do this because if you don't the world will know what a faggot ass cocksucker you are.' Jim rolled away from his keyboard, revealing his monitor and there on the screen was a huge, close up, crystal clear picture of my naked form. My tiny cock was rock hard, and my mouth was wrapped around the enormous head of Jim's cock. My face was very clearly visible, front and center. Only Jim's cock and balls were visible.. I was red from the exertion, and the size comparison of our packages was if anything exaggerated by the angle.

My jaw dropped, I couldn't speak. But Jim continued.

'There are a couple more where this came from, though this might be the best one. Laura took them with her camera phone one day, they came out pretty good.' Jim laughed heartily, I couldn't tell if he was laughing at my situation, or my reaction...I just didn't know. Jim confessed he had never imagined using his stash of pictures for blackmail, but 'life takes unexpected turns' as he put it. And he was clearly enjoying it.

With nothing more to be said, we both knew I had to do what he asked, Jim's sly smile returned. He reached down and slid down his gym shorts revealing a nearly full hard on. He had never been shy about saying how much he enjoyed power over other men, so his erection was not surprising. 'Ok, get over here and take care of this.' It was the first time I felt like I was being forced to submit to another man against my will.

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I left Jim's that afternoon in shock, but had already begun to piece together a plan that had a small sliver of a chance of working, of maybe somehow letting me keep my relationship with Danielle while doing as Jim demanded. It all came from a tiny window of insight to Danielle's darker side from an evening about six weeks before.

I had asked Danielle to come to a political fundraiser with me...I kidded her that all the movers and shakers would be there and I needed serious liberal eye candy on my arm. She punched me in the arm, but clearly looked forward to a lavish night at a spare no expense event in at the estate of a local philanthropist. Not to mention a chance to meet all of the most important Democrats in the state. I picked her up that evening, and she slid in to my BMW looking sensational in a basic black cocktail dress and pair of heels that pushed her to about 5'11". Eye candy accomplished, and she knew it. We pulled up to the front door of a lavish, but still tasteful 19th century home, and Danielle had heads swiveling as we made our way in. The home was gorgeous, the flowing wine was unaffordable, and the food was sensational. And the guest list was even more impressive. We mingled, we toured the grounds, I introduced her to people she had only read about. And of course I handed in a pledge card, so they got theirs...

I ran in to an old friend and his stunning wife Lori. Lori is a gorgeous brunette, model thin with huge breasts that are rumored to be completely real. He and I got talking in animated fashion about our golf games, some of it was actually true. The women were hitting it off almost instantly, and were sharing wine fueled giggles about other guests. At one point out of the corner of my eye I saw Lori looking around furtively, then leaning to Danielle's ear and whispering. Danielle smiled, hesitated, and then nodded like she was thrilled to be a little naughty. The two girls scampered off together toward the open back patio doors with their glasses of wine. On the patio they moved to the stone railing where Lori greeted a friend. The friend laughed, and handed Lori a pack of Marlboro Lights and a lighter. Lori and Danielle each took one, then Lori extended the lighter and gave Danielle a light. Danielle was at an angle to me, but the plume she blew skyward confirmed she was sneaking a smoke with new found friend. Danielle had never said anything about smoking to me, but I was not concerned with a social cigarette, and In fact felt my cock twitched as I watched her inhale in her dazzling dress and heels. The whole scene was so sexy, and her practiced mannered made it clear it wasn't her first social cigarette. Just as my buddy and I were winding down our golf talk the girls were making their way back to us. Danielle took my arm and let the group know she enjoyed her new friend. There was a very feint smell of smoke surrounding her, and again I felt a significant twitch in my briefs.

Later that evening Danielle and I snuck off to a local 18th century tavern, the casual pub was a fun destination in our dark cocktail party attire. We sat at the end of the bar in the quiet pub and traded laughs with the buxom blonde barkeep. Danielle was comfortably buzzed, and ordered a dirty martini. She laughed as she told the bartender she liked them dirty and liked them big. The bartender didn't miss a beat. 'We all do honey, well at least the big part.'

Danielle raised her wine glass. 'Isn't that the truth.'

I looked at Danielle in mock horror.

'What' she said in feigned indignance. 'C'mon you know that. There are lots of ways to make a woman feel good, but there is no substitute for size. Bigger is absolutely better.' The bartender delivered Danielle's martini, then Danielle picked back up where she left off. 'Everyone always says size doesn't matter, size doesn't matter. Then you get your hands on a big one for the first time and say...someone lied to me'