Face (sex Power Love)

She Belongs to Me

"Honey, I home." My heart stopped and a lump gagged my throat. Routine autonomic functions ceased, while my mind jolted to sharp attention from the numbing slog of household chores. "She's here. Home, yes home, my love is home with me." With the patience of a flower opening to the morning sun, my heart began to beat again and the warmth of love's flush enfolded me. "All is right."

I was on my knees for her. A heavy knot of leather, steel, and beaten flesh hung from my crotch—for her. My defeated manhood struggled to rise in salute to its sovereign's voice; it failed. My cock just swelled into the embrace of the bars of its jail. The dishonor dangling in my crotch was veiled behind the lacy apron Gina had commanded that I wear as I knelt at my household drudgery. Steel ruled my rebellious manhood; girly frills mocked its defeat—for her. All was right.

Her steely rule was but proper; I was not competent to govern my animal nature. "Thank you my loving sovereign; I surrender." The cage vanquished my mutinous cock. The sissy apron mocked my enfeebled manliness, flaunting my willing subjugation to Gina's command, and proclaiming her feminine victory—a lacy pink flag flying heroically over her conquest. "I surrender." Blissful capitulation spilled through my veins as I rose stiffly from the bathroom floor. I put down the scrub brush and limped to the front door to greet my beloved tyrant.

Gina was a vision of cold intimidating beauty. She wore her long luxurious mink over a simple black turtleneck, tight leather pants, and flat-heeled boots—her uniform—simple, authoritative, and enthralling. The chill of winter hung about her. Her short, jet-black hair was slicked back. Gina's astonishing eyes still stunned me, and I struggled to cast my gaze down as befit a slave. I failed; my eyes could not turn from her beauty.

My love stood impassive, remote with arms crossed, luscious lips pursed, and brow raised in a judgmental, askance glare. She glowered critically assessing me as I approached. And yet there was a slight glimmer of a mocking laugh twinkling faintly, ice dancing silently, on the arctic menace in her eyes. And, perhaps, (or did I dream?) even a hint of an affectionate smile suppressed beneath her frown, or lurking in the corners of her closely drawn lips.

Gina was having her fun. Good, but I could not allow a scrap of levity in my expression or demeanor. I scolded myself, "Eric, this is Gina's show. You must be her well-mannered puppet. Be careful, nothing flippant now before your arrogant goddess." Gina's haughty expression bid me to submit in heartfelt seriousness. She might laugh; I must grovel.

I melted to my knees before her frightful beauty. She offered her foot and I gratefully kissed her boot still cold from the damp streets of the fading winter. She turned her back to me, lifted her arm and cocked her hand slightly, inviting me to take her fur. She wore an Egyptian ring, a gift from Anna. I rose to lift the mink from her graceful shoulders and the warmth of Gina's slight body billowed forth. The mink was cool, slick and heavy in my hands. I floated in the swirling aroma of leather, and swam in her body's heat. I love the smell of leather...but, oh no, there was more. She'd done it again. Sex, spunk, the earthy scent of infidelity—Gina noted the distress brimming in my eyes. She nodded a pity smile. Then Gina touched my cheek lightly, and her face transformed into a cheery sneer as wounding as a spit into my face.

I scolded myself, "Do not cry. Do not complain. She may do whatever she likes." My heart demanded, "Surrender."

"Oh, don't look so sad, my little puppy." Gina patted my head, smirked, and scornfully mocked me, "I have so enjoyed my morning. Have you enjoyed cleaning my house? I expect my toilet to be sparkling." Gina winced slightly and walked off without further acknowledgment of my attendance, a slight hitch playing counterpoint to her sexy saunter. The scent of betrayal drifted in her wake. I dutifully attended to her fur and followed. She's an artist; she don't look back.

I poured the remnants of last night's chardonnay and approached my ruler comfortably enthroned in a swiveling lounge chair in front of the fireplace. I went to my knees, bowed my head, and presented the wine with supplicant hands. She ignored my offering. Her ring sparkled, "Tonight I am taking you to a special party at Anna's. You can think of it as a sort of one-man pet show if you like. My friends have been inquiring about your progress. You know some of them, and they all know everything about you. They know what a conceited slut boy you were and of our efforts to cure you. The ladies are curious to see what remains of the masculine ego after it has been felled, had its pith of arrogance cut out, and been obliged to embrace feminine rule.

"Your former secretary Shyanne will be there. I know how much you liked her, how you used her even after you entered my life, and how stupidly she respected you. We will remedy that; Shyanne will beat you while the rest of us watch. I considered inviting every woman you ever abused so that they could whip you; unfortunately, there are just too many. After Shyanne gets you warmed up, each guest will have her fun with you. Who do you think will be more cruel, those who always found you despicable, or those who succumbed to your wicked charms? Some surprise guests are invited.

"Do you remember the last time you were allowed an orgasm? You were chained to Anna's whipping table and she beat your balls until you shot your man slime into the sky."

I burned with shame at the illicit orgasm I had allowed Slave to suck from me that first day at Corinna's house of correction. I attempted confession. "Mistress, I failed. Corinna's girl, she...she..."

"Oh that's right; Corinna told me all about that. Of course she knew, stupid. Surly you don't think a cunt-sucking slave is allowed any secrets. Slave betrayed you to Corinna immediately. You're lucky I didn't let Corinna cut your balls off, slit your gonads as she put it. See how nice I am? Still, you have been denied a long time. Trying to keep secrets and interrupting me—I will add these to the list of your crimes to be punished.

"As I was trying to say before you so rudely interrupted, the Anna occasion was filmed. It was quite a performance. I also videoed you giving head for Corinna's clients. Corinna calls that face time. You never suspected I was there, did you? I have adapted the video into a fascinating art film. Some of tonight's guests have already previewed it. They were most impressed. My film is high art; it transcends simple porn. It's a message film—male enslaved, phallus bound and beaten by Woman, the triumph of the matriarchy over patriarchal misrule. I wanted to call it 'Victory of the Cunt' or maybe 'Servant of Slit', but I didn't want to frighten the philistines. It is our intent to reach the broadest possible market, so I choose something ambiguous: 'Face'. You like giving face, right, my slithering slit sucking slave?" Gina sniggered in my face.

"Because of my reputation as an artist and because of the 'redeeming social and artistic value', I will be able to get away with presenting the film at Cannes. It is gorgeous. I made it very pretty as counterpoint to the violence actually depicted. There are slow-motion images of floating ropes of come, sweat exploding under the flat business end of Anna's riding crop, and balls dancing to the beat of their tyrant's hacking lash. The hushed slow motion lends a peaceful remove from the ferocity. Sequential renderings of the blooming bruises on your scrotum are envisioned as a lovely budding flower. It is all quite beautiful, very arty. And then there is your face. You are such an expressive actor—the beads of sweat, the open mouth issuing silent screams, the agony, and the eager way your snout routs around in all those cunts. The sound track is fabulous. I took your screams and turned them into an aria backed by the rhythmic percussion of crop on skin.

"Because of Anna's of influential friends, my film will be shown at Cannes, and it will win a prize. That much is quite set. Each Bridget Bardo wanna-be at the festival will flush with embarrassment at what she finds herself yearning to do to her boyfriend. The lefty French intellectuals with will imagine my film to be a political allegory. They need that to permit themselves to enjoy the porn. Each art critic and would be social engineer will parade their feminist 'narratives' to cover their mortification at the juices flooding their crotch, even the men, especially the men. It's odd how leftist males are such nervous but eager cunt suckers, but right-wingers so often need a good kick in the balls to direct them to their rightful place on their knees before their ruler. One might expect lovers of authority to be more disposed to flaunt submission to their superiors.

"So we will be going to a film festival, to France, land of the cunt lickers. You will fit right in. Do you like the idea of being a movie star? You can be sure you will be a star; everyone will be so curious about you. I will have you speak at the discussion after the screening. You can tell all the nice people how much you enjoy eating pussy and being beaten, and how you live to serve controlling females. Consider what those people will think of you. Can you imagine their envy and envision their contempt? The scent of sexual need will permeate the room."

Would Gina do that to me? Would she make me stand before those horny foreign strangers and humiliate me like that? Of course.

When I was an early adolescent, I had a recurrent nightmare of walking stripped naked, lost, and forlorn down a lonely street. The dream was appallingly vivid. I lay paralyzed in my bed frightened, mortified, and yet erect with inexplicable lust. I dreamed I stumbled down a narrow cobblestone street through an ancient village, alone but compelled by an unseen feminine force walking me to my ruin. Impassive, hostile peasants cowering in low darkened doorways of mud huts stared at me. This recurrent nightmare always turned my cock to stone, spawned nocturnal emission, and left me lying in a puddle of semen, cold sweat, and confusion. The taste of fear lingered into the day, now even to this day.

Now Gina intended to force me to stand before a foreign public to endure shame, disgrace and sexual humiliation. It seemed the nightmare had returned, and again I lusted for its dread. The bars of my cock cage pressed hard; I was as engorged as the steel would permit.

Gina continued, "I took great care to show close-ups of your face so that anyone who knew you would certainly identify you. Anna will remain anonymous; the editing protects her identity. Under her gorgeous red hair flying about, her sinuous arms deftly welding the crop, her breast heaving with effort, the woman with the whip is envisioned as a mature and assured Any-Woman, dealing justice to man. Her privacy, and that of the women whose slits you serviced, has been protected. Yours has not. When the film comes out in general release, all of your old girl friends will surely recognize your face and, of course, that lovely cock of yours.

"Anna's amazing connections will assure the widest possible publicity and controversy over the film. It will be as if you were dragged naked down the entire world's Main Street for all to marvel at, for all to mock and deride. It will be a public object lesson, a cultural watershed, the rising of female supremacy. Aren't you proud to serve the 'Cause' so selflessly?

"Our publicity tour will eschew the trash TV talk route. We will aim for discussion amongst literary critics and academics, then perhaps news magazines or concede an interview to higher end television talk. How would you describe the joy of having your balls whipped to a distinguished female newsreader on prime time television? Or would you prefer a younger, prettier news whore on a tacky morning program?"

This was insane. I thought, "It will never happen. Gina must be joking, pulling my chain. Ok, dear pull my chain all you like. I am here solely for your amusement; make a fool of me. I know exactly what I am what I am to do—put one knee in front of the other, without questions or doubts, and crawl any plank at your command. I am your puppet."

Gina laughed, "Oh I see that skeptical look. Don't worry honey; I haven't gone mad. Maybe Anna and Ashley are a little addled. All that crusading is their project, and most of it probably won't happen, at least not as they scheme. The political controversy, the 'Cause'—it's all too calculated and ambitious. That is not the way the world works; not the way things change, but Anna won't quit. Something more subtle, more indirect is likely required. But as unrealistic as this goofy plan seems, perhaps you and I will create a ripple on the waters of the great river that is humankind's long enduring saga.

"The route to man's heart is through his cock. If the erotic images I toss into the public market are sugar coated with 'Art' or 'Politics', or even 'Porn', a wider audience may swallow the medicine. When the coating melts away, the sexual medicine will remain and maybe cure at least some social pathology. The masculine imperative to dominate may be somewhat suppressed, supplanted by the release of the male's repressed need to submit and his longing to be subjugated by women. The feminine craving to rule will be liberated, and female supremacy may ascend. We may shift the fulcrum in the male/female dynamic balance. Too much? Well if nothing else, there may be a whole lot of pussy sucking going on. That's the theory. But theories are boring. The real point is that I am going to have some fun with you.

"My film is real, and it's not boring. It is completed and it is beautiful. Cannes probably will happen, so you will be publicly humiliated. I had thought of dragging you out in front of the audience by your scrotum chain, but perhaps the impact would be enhanced if you were dressed as a normal, trendy, studly guy. What sort of questions do you think they will put to you? 'Eric, was that real, or trick photography?' Real. 'Does having your balls whipped really hurt?' Duh! 'Did the lady whipping you get as hot as you did?' 'Do you see yourself as a loathsome pervert?' 'How do I get my boyfriend to let me do that?' The discussion itself will be art, performance art. I will be filming the event. All the show offs in the audience will get to perform.

"But now it time for some real fun here and now. You have been such a good boy I have brought you a treat—cream filled pussy. Put the wine down; it's too early for alcohol. Get in the bedroom and take off your apron. Better yet, tie that pink frilly thing around your neck like a bib. I wouldn't want any messes."

It was quite the feast. Gina must have entertained a number of guests because her pussy was awash with come. She had been considerate and creative enough to find a way to prevent the semen from leaking out. Gina wore a silicone vaginal insert under her panties to hold the semen in. It was a common sex toy, a remote control vibrator intended to humiliate a woman by controlling her arousal in public. But Gina had discovered it's off label use—a semen-dam intended to humiliate me.

I removed Gina's boots and leather pants, and she reclined on a pile of pillows. Gina carefully took off her panties, raised her hips hugging the backs of her knees to hold in as much semen as possible, and then removed the semen-dam. Come oozed over the rim of her hole. She pulled her knees apart and her raw nether lips opened. The glutinous slime had thinned to translucent goo that pooled in her hole and dribbled over the rim. My cup runneth over. With a come-hither gesture Gina's finger beckoned me to bow over her up turned, brimming slit. The smell of other men sickened me. "Lick it up quickly. I don't want the bedding to get soiled."

I bent over and commenced my duties. My tongue made a few quick swipes from Gina's anus up to her slit rim to capture the viscous ooze overflowing her inflamed pussy. I came close to vomiting; my eyes watered with suppressed revulsion. I gathered myself while my tongue lingered on the raw lips of my love's well used cunt. I hovered over Gina's holy and faithless cup.

"I must do this. It is Gina's wish. Don't gag; swallow. It is her command. Remember how you made girls take your cock. Remember how they choked and gagged for you. It is time for recompense. Stifle that gag reflex; strangle that last traitorous shred of pride; be hers; suck the filth of her many lovers from her hallowed chalice." I dipped my tongue into her hole and lapped. I rolled the viscous liquor around my mouth and swallowed. It slid down my throat and I did not vomit.

"Clean this." Gina stuck the rubbery vibrator toy in my mouth and I sucked it clean of the slime. Gina pushed the remote and the vibrator buzzed to life in my mouth. She laughed and tossed her come soaked panties on my head as a sort of nightcap.

"Now honey, get in there and suck it up. There are so many lovely boys down at my health club. All swaggering, horny young fucks tripping over their cocks to do anything I ask. I made four of the prettiest of them save their juicy man junk for two weeks just for me, just for you really. They were bursting with come. These were not kind of boys accustomed to waiting for women, but they waited on me, all of them.

"I got the keys to the supply room in the back of the club and invited them in. I like doing it in semi public places. The guys were taken aback when they realized were not going to get me to themselves. But after two weeks, they were so horny they would do anything for me. The looks on their faces as they assembled in the supply room were precious; there was no eye contact between them, only the most surreptitious glances at their buddy's cocks. Those arrogant studs were positively shy. Now don't think that I didn't love it for all the fucking, but I really did it for you, for this."

Gina lay with her legs and hips raised careful not to spill. She dipped a finger into the pool of come in her hole and stirred the soup. "Those young, virile studs were positively loaded. The downside was they came almost instantly; the up side was they could do it over and over. They were all so horny they stayed rock hard despite their immature embarrassment over having to wait in line to get into my cunt. I do love young men and their ever-hard young cocks. You don't mind do you? You want me to happy, right?

"Get in there baby; I am full to the brim. Eat it. Drink it. Good boy. Swallow. There's more, suck. Think of all those young cocks using me, and think how you will never, ever, get to fuck me again. But you like it that way, right? My cunt cleaner, my tongue boy, that's what you are now and forever."

Gina's labored against rising sex fervor to continue her harangue. "Your tongue is so much softer, gentler, and suppler than those clumsy boys' cocks. Your well-trained tongue knows its craft. My pussy is raw from all the pounding of those awkward boys. Make it better. Lick it. That's good. Reach in; there is a lot more for you. Get in there whore boy, slave, cuckold. Eat you fucking worthless piece of shit..." Gina flew off into a disjointed rant and I became nothing more to her than a machine, her tongue dildo.

Gina went on and on, calling me the vilest things, swearing, and then cooing praise at her tongue toy. While she chattered on I ate, and ate. Gina was bursting with semen. I sucked it down by the mouth full. I alternated between joy and revulsion, disgust and ecstasy. I could only sustain my effort and suppress my nausea by concentrating on the knowledge, focusing on the achievement, reveling in the truth, that I was nothing, nothing but Gina's rapt and spellbound thrall.