Booked In, Anticipated, Used

It had genuinely seemed to have been an absolute age since my last salon appointment.

If I was naked before you, I would have looked different walking away from you than I would walking towards you. The last appointment at the salon had seen me waxed from behind.

But with so much time having been taken up to use me sexually, the waxing is seen as a means to an end, part of the process, but not as important as I might often see it in the quest to be fully smooth.

Having said that, I am increasingly smoother for longer. Hair is thinner, weaker, less present to the touch.

Parts of my body are hairless, but other parts stubbornly refuse to give up and die off. But I AM getting here.

So, being a case of different dependent on whether I was facing or walking away from you naked, I was glad that the next appointment finally came around.

As ever, I had been counting down the weeks, days, hours and then minutes, before excitedly making my way once more.

This time, there were no traffic issues, no problems getting into the car park and I was early for the appointment.

With the door chime having gone, He left the other part of the salon where other treatments are provided and having realised that I was early, asked me to take a seat whilst He finished off what He was doing.

I duly did so and began reading part of a blog about a submissive's journey that I take great interest in and am playing catch up on.

As I continued reading, the distant chit chat He was involved in was washing over me, but after a few minutes, He came back through with his customer at the time, and told me that I could go into the treatment room and get ready.

He saw his customer out. The salon was already quiet. There was no music playing, and the end of that conversation left Him elsewhere in the building and me, in the treatment room, having stripped off.

I heard Him go into a room next door, then leave it. I then heard what I felt sure was the sound of a bunch of keys being held, and one turning the lock from within.

I was standing there in the treatment room, in total silence, naked, hands behind my back, head bowed submissively.

Minutes seemed to go by but it felt like a lot longer. I couldn't hear much from outside the room which merely added to the anticipation and made the silence I was standing in, all the more deafening and anticipant.

Was He keeping me waiting deliberately? I even wondered whether He could still see me from wherever He was but did not object to this potential voyeurism, although realistically, I concluded that there was no way he could see me and would not do such a thing.

With my skimpy thong laid out on the top of my gathered clothes on the top of the chair across the room, and after some considerable moments of silence, me determined to keep the submissive position, head bowed, naked, exposed, hands behind my back, I merely knew my place - that was to be ready.

I knew what was expected of me.

He eventually breezed into the room but I momentarily kept my head bowed and my head behind my back to clearly indicate my submissiveness.

He soon began feeling His sub's naked, available body all over, but this didn't seem to last long at all. He knew some waxing needed doing but He had other plans for the meantime.

"I need my cock sucking!" He bluntly declared.

But, with the likelihood that He had seen my submissive stance, and had been reminded of my submissive traits, wasn't going to do any of the work necessary for it to happen.

"You do it!" He instructed.

"Yes Sir!" I obediently replied.

I had soon loosened His belt buckle, unbuttoned His jeans, unzipped His zip and had drawn His jeans down, revealing black undies.

By this time, I had already dropped to my knees at His feet and drew the undies down too.

His already thick and hardened shaft sprang towards me, and I had soon gorged on it.

He was instantly wet as I plunged up and down, quickly deep-throating, breathing through my nose efficiently to be able to take it, mouth tightly clamped around His shaft, all the while with my tongue swirling around it, teasing His frenulum and gliding across His slit.

His approval was demonstrated by gasps, heavy and held breathing and verbal declaration of how good it felt.

With Him being necessarily forced to abstain from sexual activity at home, I was now His fuck-toy for the foreseeable future and He was going to relish and use it when He could.

My hands cupped His balls, pressed His perineum and held the base of His impressive manhood.

Occasionally, He would bend down to passionately kiss His sub, seeking to taste Himself in my mouth.

After quite a few minutes, He suggested that He ought to get some waxing done, but seemed unable to draw away from my mouth which was insatiably working up and down and around His cock, plunging deeply, nose pressed against His abdomen, held there for a few seconds before being drawn back once more, up and down, hunger for cock per se, getting more intense every day, increasingly more open for everything and anything that might happen to it.

More minutes passed, the naked sub kneeling at the feet of cock, His hands caressing its head as the intense service continued, but eventually, He knew that He must attend to the 'other' reason for the appointment, and indicated that He would now begin the waxing.

This time though, His trousers and undies would merely remain down, His hardened shaft continuing to point outwards as I laid myself out on my back.

As he prepared, He re-presented His cock to me, for me to turn to my side and take it in briefly, to suck the pre-cum glistened tip dry once more.

Usually, general chit-chat had ensued when waxing began, but these days, conversation remains overtly sexual.

Although I lay on my back, I spread my legs and planted the soles of my feet on the top of the treatment table, lifting my bottom off it briefly to demonstrate my submissiveness.

He used the opportunity to glide His hands across my smooth cock, balls, perineum and bum crack, loudly patting my hole to begin opening me up before attending to the job in hand, to wax my chest.

By this point, He had already discarded his jeans and undies and made a point of telling me that his cock tip would now be glistening with pre-cum.

I murmured my approval and readiness to taste and consume it.

In our explicit conversation, He reiterated that I still gave the best blow jobs He had ever had by far. I was humble and modest in reply.

I referenced my current and particular interest in BBC and, more specifically, how I had been immersing myself in the BNWO and how I had been exploring an opportunity to be used by BBC in a local hotel room via an exchange with a recruiter but that things had stopped short.

I referenced how such commitment required an element of financial contribution but also a requirement to go to a private local sexual health clinic to be tested, pay a considerable amount to get the result and present to the King or Kings I would meet and that they would be required to do the same.

In what was clearly an act of protecting His sub, he referenced that He had a big black cock in mind for me and that He needed to nurture things with them to be of my benefit.

He also said that He was always keeping watch over me in all sessions He arranges and makes sure that those cocks are safe and trusted and that I am safe before him - something I acutely knew.

I moved to reassure Him by reply and said that I didn't think there would be opportunity due to my closeted lifestyle and no ability to justify the need to make such a meet.

Conversation was broken up by periods of silence which were fuelled by sexual tension as He seemed to wait for my responses to come out fully, me pausing frequently to consider each part of my statements before I made them.

I began to explain to Him how I saw myself as a submissive, seeing my place as merely to serve and make myself and my holes ready and available for use.

I also said that I saw my tiny appendage, which lay lifeless between my legs, as I lay stretched out, was, other than for day to day physiological uses, useless, didn't really function in any other way, and had little purpose, as my place was to serve.

He said that I would not be able to cum without it but I said that it was only applicable if I was permitted to cum but if I wasn't then, so be it, again, my place being to serve and be used.

"Hmm?" he responded, with an upwards inflected tone, as if He was reveling in continuing to learn more and more about His sub which continued to open up before Him.

The waxing was soon finished, but He wasn't finished with me.

After attending to some stray hairs with some tweezers, He coated my waxed chest with moisturising cream, deftly flicking my nipples, and then asked me to sit up so that He could attend to some other bits higher on my body and in clearer light.

All the time, I was aware of His thick, exposed cock, that I knew needed my attention - attention He wanted me to give again - and soon.

He ordered me to stand up for Him to stretch out on the treatment table instead, His thick, girthy and longed-for cock pointing straight up. I knew what position to take - standing diagonally, bum and hole near His head and hands, then bending over, mouth immediately descending back on to His craved manhood, plunging up and down, tongue swirling around with wanton abandonment.

I caught Him off guard by plunging rapidly down His shaft deep throat a few times, His gasps and moans regularly demonstrating His pleasure at the service He was receiving.

I pulled off His shaft momentarily, to kiss His frenulum and tongue His slit, savouring the pre-cum that was being offered.

I dropped down further to take His balls, one by one, into my mouth, sucking gently on them, one hand having been reached around to cup a bum cheek, the other pressing and stroking His perineum.

I was not aware of what He was doing at my rear, but I knew that He was using me, fingering, playing, patting my hole.

I was not aware of time, nor any urgency. I was a willing, serving sub slut until it was indicated that my use was no longer needed on that occasion.

Suddenly, He instructed me to reach for a specific small cylindrical tub of cream which He said was to cream my hole up. I had no idea what His plans were nor did I need to know. I was merely being used.

Then, He told me to get on top of Him. I instantly responded, getting my slender, slim body, up on to the narrow treatment table that His manly body was filling and over Him.

I was struggling to safely position my knees either side.

He wanted me to take His cock inside me, bareback, as if me soliciting it was better than Him taking me, and would perhaps justify the act in His own mindset, one which is prevented from sexual activity elsewhere due to personal circumstances and for some time too.

I was His alternative.

There were several moments in which I was reaching back and under, positioning His cock to slide on to, but it remained a struggle, which I saw as being due to the small amount of space on the extreme edges of the treatment table for me to find a riding stance.

As the struggle to take Him inside me continued, the sheer eroticism of the riding position was pushing all the wrong buttons, particularly as desperation to feel Him inside me and then riding Him played out in my mind, particularly the prospect that I may be bred for the first time AND by HIS load, from the cock that had taken my anal virginity a few years back, breaking me in, developing me further..

As frustration boiled over, I felt myself about to ruin, and duly did so all over His chest.

His response was to recall that this had happened before and to declare that something needed to be done about it. I quietly agreed.

Clearly, I still need to be conditioned further to be the slut that it seems is intended, continuing to be prepared to take cock in any position, and collect the bareback loads it seems I am destined to.

I carefully climbed off and down and, gathering some of my load off His chest, smeared it around His cock.

I began servicing Him once more, continually gathering sub semen, coating His cock with it and sucking it off.

Eventually, He couldn't take any more and as His body convulsed, His hot, creamy load powered up and into my willing mouth, jet after pent up jet.

He asked me to acknowledge that He was yet to use the long-since agreed safe word.

I took this as a clear signal to continue orally cleaning Him up and, having lifted up to swallow the collected load down, reattached, keenly watching out for any drops still leaking from His still vertically pointing cock tip.

After a few more moments, He DID then utter the agreed safe word - my service having been completed on that occasion - well, almost.

He took great pleasure in the fact that I collected some paper towel and cleaned Him up, His chest and cock. I said that such a job was not for Him but for a submissive to do.

As He got up, once more, as He has done many times before, He referenced that there was money to be made in how I service cock.

Again, I humbly rebuffed the praise, reminding Him that I had never had any training.

With that, He collected and put His undies and trousers back on and left the room, leaving me to reflect on what had just happened, but particularly, to dwell on the frustration at my apparent and repeated inability to ride cock without ruining at the eroticism of the act, even though I had been able to consistently ride my 6" dildo - but it seemed that, in my mind set, doing so with the real thing, was currently beyond me.

I reflected that I was easily accommodating from behind but this didn't seem to be an option of late, although it once had been. It seems that me doing the fucking, is different to being fucked. Lesson learnt.

I joined Him at reception to book another appointment, one in which we would, again, be alone in the salon, so that He can fully use me as His sub slut, and continue my sexual development - to be booked in, eagerly anticipated and used - again.