The Taste of Things to Cum

The room was bathed in darkness, the hours slipping into the small cold ones of pre dawn, only the night people the denizens of the darkness walk the streets this hour, the rumble of the traffic less and muted now. The glow of the street lamps spilling into the bedroom through the partially drawn blinds.

I am on all fours in the center of your bed, my nakedness dressed in chrome chains that catch the wan light from the window, your leather collar firm around my throat proclaiming me yours and reminding me constantly of the fact. Your visage is all darkness to me as you stand against the light, but I read your subtle movements and gestures and do not need to see your face. I am dead still, my hair spilling down over my shoulders on to the bedclothes, and you marvel at my ability to cope with the cold as I show little sign of it's effects on my nakedness.

You on the other hand are still dressed as you pace slowly back and forward admiring your possession from every angle, your boots heavy on the floor as you take each slow deliberate step, black shining riding crop in your hands like menacing doom. You can see the slow rhythmic rise and fall of my breathing but otherwise I appear a statue made of stone, for you have commanded me to be silent and still.

You trace the whip across the scarred back slowly, deliciously, taking your time, knowing it arouses me, your other hand soon follows, my skin surprisingly warm to your touch as the hair prickles at your fleeting caress all over. I shiver lightly as you trace the twists and coils of the dragon on my lower back, and as you run the crop down my flanks.

You are pleased with your progress it has been 2 months, still though you keep me chained but you have sensed I am calmer now and more accepting. But still you burn to try many unknown things. Things that you are not sure how I will take to them. You have held me in your bed in your possessive, encircling arms for many nights now. I keep you warm and comforted with my presence. I for the most part lie very still but sleep for me is light and fitful, you are surprised that I often wake yelling with my nightmares. It takes me some time to realize where I am as you fight to calm me down. Despite the difficulties you sense you are winning by degrees with this animal. Yes you do.

Your hands are both on my thighs now running over the hard muscles, and up onto my tight buttocks. You sense I want to pull away, so you grab me by the hair forcing my head back, to ensure my compliance with your wishes, whilst the remaining hand explores the part of me I wish none to touch. You do this often, I hate this very much, yet you are drawn to touch me in morbid fascination at my difference. I feel your gloating satisfaction and your questing fingers, the shame rising making me feel sick with it. Still you persist with this almost nightly ritual, I dreading it every time and the way it makes me feel.

I can feel your breath hot on my lower back, the relentless tug of your fist knotted firmly in my hair, and the ever uncomfortable feel of your hand where I really don't want it to be. In the far corners of my mind I can feel myself slipping from this consciousness, I fight hard to keep it at bay. You sense the danger and respond with a stinging cut of the crop to my side and I fight my way back to the reality, as you again resume the touch of your hand.

The fight in me goes on for long moments, only just at any point still in control, finally you desist your caresses, release my hair, and get up from the bed. You have decided you want to try something new this time, something risky and I sense you are exited and nervous. I too now breathing hard at the effort to control the rampaging animal in my mind, attempting to fight it down and stay in command.

As you go to the cupboard I watch your shadowy form intently, straining my keen night vision to see what you plan to do. I sweat as you get very close, and move to bolt, the tight, short chains hindering me badly. You grab me by the collar and the hair and brutally haul me back towards you, and force the dreaded ring gag in to my mouth. I fight you viciously, you almost get bitten and angrily you punch me solidly in the side of the head. The blow is hard and I see stars giving you the advantage, the dreaded device is secured firmly and I have no escape.

I know what is coming I have dreaded this moment, as I hear you unzip your fly as you kneel in front of me inches from my face. Your cock is already hard, and you are very keen to try this out, knowing how much I have told you I hate this. Your ultimate goal to get me to do this willingly eventually, and you are determined to persist until I do.

You fuck my face with wild abandon, a hand each side of my head firmly holding me by the hair, your hard cock as far down my throat as you can get it, I all but choking as I fight to get away using every thing I've got. I cannot reach you however as my shackles force me to stay on all fours, my muscles strain against the chains, as you force me harder and harder into your crotch to gain your release. Seeing me in this state only further arouses you, the more I fight the better you love it.

I feel the first of your shuddering as you begin to come in my mouth, the taste of you I cannot bear. I shake, writhe, and shudder as you moan your cum into me, and I am left with little choice but to swallow or choke. You are spent at least for the moment, and lie back on the bed in the dark watching my misery, and gloating in your triumph. You have decided that this little episode will be repeated time and time again assuring me as I want to dry reach, I will grow to love the taste.

Humiliated, degraded, and abused I just wish I did not have to do this ever. But I know my master will now insist on it and I dread repeating it again. I hear your soft chuckle of satisfaction from the pillows in the dark, and this slave feels powerless bereft and dirty. What he deserves he gets he knows this.