A New Kind of Service

My name is Sam, and I've been submissive since my first sexual inklings. In high school and college, I found myself attracted to women more because of their confidence - even arrogance - than because of anything physical about them. A woman who expected me to do whatever she wanted and had no interest in my opinions (or even feelings) was the only kind of woman who could pique my interest and hold my attention.

I am a reasonably attractive young man, with a reasonably nice physique, but I have only ever wanted to be treated like I was unworthy and used by someone who believes themselves to be unequivocally better than me. Providing a service to them, even (maybe especially) if that service was humiliating and even painful to me, was the only way I'd ever become sexually aroused. And my god did it arouse me.

These women were sometimes a little hard to find, but they were out there. There were women who wanted to take their anger at another man out on me, women who liked to be worshiped to flatter their ego, and women who simply had little empathy or regard for anyone else in the world. I would find them and try everything I could to be everything they wanted. Throughout my twenties, this made me a very happy and satisfied slave to a series of dominant women.

At some point, I may tell the stories from that period in my life, but this story is about how that part of my life ended, and my new life began. I was 31 and living in Brooklyn. I had just moved to the city after a few years abroad, and hadn't found a consistent domme yet. The morning my life changed was a snowy day in January, and it started without any warning that the day would end with me pleading for cock and aching to be fucked by a man.

I woke up with little planned that day, but with a simmering desire in my belly to serve, so I perused a no-strings hookups site to see if there were any promising leads. Among the reams of obvious fakes and scams, there were a smattering of ads that looked like they might be real. My eyes lit up when I saw an ad that looked like it might have been from Elizabeth.

Elizabeth was a woman I'd served a few weeks before. I had thoroughly enjoyed serving her. In fact, serving her had been the best thing I'd done in years, and had occupied my thoughts pretty constantly since late December. I quickly responded with my usual spiel: "Hello Miss, I am a lowly servant with no needs of my own; Doing whatever you want and expecting nothing in return would give my life a little meaning. Please consider letting me serve you." I added "My name is Sam, you may remember me from a few weeks ago."

I sent off the message along with a nude picture of me with "slave" written in lipstick across my chest, and thought back to that earlier day. She had told me her name was Elizabeth, but instructed in her email that I call her Miss. She sent me her address and ordered me to arrive at a specific time.

Her apartment was at the end of a hallway on the twelfth floor of a doorman building on the Upper East Side. The doorman let me up, and I knocked gently on her door. Elizabeth opened the door, told me to undress, and closed the door in my face. I could only take her in for a second before the door closed, but that was long enough. If Daisy Buchanan's voice was full of money, Elizabeth's skin, hair and eyes were full of trust fund checks. She was in her mid-twenties, petite and dressed in a conservative, knee-length skirt and sweater set that was pure junior league. Her light brown hair was parted on the side and swept across her forehead, held back by a beret. The skin covering the fine curves of her nose and cheek were almost translucent, as if, given the right lighting, I could've seen right through it to the generations of moneyed breeding in her history. She was intoxicating, and, I hoped, might be truly condescending and mean.

I stripped, and knocked again, waiting a little anxiously in the hall, watching the other doors for a sign that someone might be coming out. After a few minutes, she returned, took my clothes from me, let me in, and told me to kneel in the middle of her living room with my hands clasped behind my back. Her voice wasn't severe, but she had the commanding air of someone who could not imagine a world where she was not listened to and obeyed.

When I walked in, I saw a man in his thirties, larger than me and a bit burly, sitting on her couch. She told me he was Allen, and he was a neighbor. She preferred to have a man over whenever she used a new servant for the first time. A young woman could never be too careful, she said. That made sense, and was something I'd come across before. I wondered what was in it for Allen. Was he, in his own way, serving Elizabeth? What was he hoping for in return?

Whatever Allen's motivations, it felt a little exhilarating to find myself nude in front of a stranger with little warning, and I said as much in acknowledgement of the fact that I was growing hard. Elizabeth sighed, then stepped in close to me and smacked my face, hard. "Today you are serving me and only me. If I wanted you to get excited by Allen, I would tell you. If I wanted to know what made you excited, I'd ask. It is very unlikely that I will ever ask." Sufficiently chastened, I said, "yes miss." My erection betrayed my increased excitement at her rebuke.

She set me to cleaning her two bedroom apartment and doing her dishes in the nude. Whenever I had to pass through the room she was in, I was instructed to crawl on hands and knees and look down and away from her. While I cleaned, she and Allen sat on the couch, ignoring me and chatting. From the little I could glean of their conversation, Allen was single and lived in the next apartment over. They seemed as if they'd known each other for years, but I got the sense that Allen was not from the same place and status as Elizabeth. He must have had money to live in this building, but not the same kind of generational money that I guessed Elizabeth had.

After about two hours, when I'd finished the chores she'd given me, I asked if there was anything else she'd like me to do. She asked Allen to leave, and then, once he'd gone, told me to lie on my back on the carpet and close my eyes. I obeyed and heard her stand over my head and hike up her skirt. She knelt down and straddled my head, letting the skirt drop around me. She ground her bare sex down on my mouth and chin. The unmistakable taste and texture of a man's cum hit me immediately. She was oozing warm, runny semen onto my tongue. I opened my eyes, but with the skirt around my head, couldn't see much. The only thing I could see, through a fold in the skirt, was a tennis bracelet glinting around her slim wrist, which was planted on the floor near my shoulder. Had this load come from Allen? I guessed that was what he got out of the arrangement.

She rode my face for nearly 30 minutes, grunting steadily and panting each time she built towards orgasm. After the first time she came, she slid forward so that my lips and tongue were on her little rosebud of an asshole for a minute or two, before moving me back to her clit. As she came a second time, she pushed down harder on my face, clenching her body, groaning and shuddering as her ground her full weight through her pudendum and into my nose and mouth. She shuddered, and screamed twice, then slid quickly off my face, kneeling behind my head. While my eyes adjusted to the light, she slapped me twice across the face, then paused, then slapped me again. For a moment, her composure seemed shaken, and her slaps seemed petulant and angry. It was fleeting; she took a deep breathe, and the cold, waspy facade returned.

She stood and said that I had done an adequate job. As reward, I would be allowed to drink her piss from a bowl. She went to the kitchen, then to the bathroom, and then called to me from the other room, telling me to drink the bowl dry.

The humiliation of drinking piss, especially piss that is growing cold in a bowl on the floor, is one of the most satisfying feelings I know. Elizabeth leaned against the door jamb and watched, expressionless, as I got on my hands and knees and lapped up her piss. When I was nearly finished, she reached her foot out and pushed my face and shoulders into the bowl, spilling it. She smiled and laughed lightly. "Clean this up and then get out," she said, still laughing.

I had loved everything about this session, from the thrill of being naked in her semi-public hall to the feeling of stale cum coating my throat to the casual disdain she'd had for me the entire time. The effortless way in which she expressed her superiority was as attractive as anything I'd ever seen. This might have been more than just the entitlement of the well-bred, though there was definitely that too. She might really have had no capacity for empathy whatsoever, at least not towards someone like me.

As I left, I told her that I was always available for whatever uses she had for me, to which she rolled her eyes and closed the door. As I dressed quickly in the hall, I hoped I would hear from her again, and soon.

I waited weeks, hoping to see another email from her, a request for some kind of service, but none came. I thought perhaps she was out of town for the holidays, and was hopeful that I might hear from her after the New Year, but no word came until that morning in mid January, with a post that matched the simple, to-the-point, text of her first ad, "Servant sought for young woman. Must be clean, well-mannered and prompt." I was disappointed that she had re-posted the ad instead of contacting me, but I hoped she might want to use me again anyhow.

Her response to my message came a little before noon. It said, "Be entirely clean shaven this time, and prepare your asshole to be penetrated. Arrive at two PM." I've never been more excited, and possibly never more firmly erect. This woman was a perfect, spoiled sociopath, and she wanted to use me again. To peg me, no less. More than one woman in my past had taken my ass, and it felt like a wonderful form of submission to me, in addition to be physically pleasing.

If I'd had to shave my body and make it all the way from Brooklyn to the Upper East Side in two hours, it would have been a challenge, but as luck would have it, I'd been waxed only three days before, at the request of another woman who had then flaked on me. I cleaned myself up, gave myself an enema, and dashed to the subway, figuring it'd be faster than a cab on a snowy day.

I arrived at Elizabeth's building five minutes ahead of schedule. The doorman didn't even call up to her apartment, he just waved me through, which seemed odd. I went up to her floor and went to the end of the hall. This time, I would strip before ringing so that she would not need to correct me. I pulled off my clothes and folded them neatly, glancing down the hall nervously at the other doors. I knocked and waited.

And waited.

After two minutes, I was beginning to consider knocking again when the next door down the hall opened. Oh shit. I stumbled to grab my clothes, but then saw Allen. He opened the door and looked at me, smiling broadly.

"You're cuter without any body hair. Elizabeth's not home. Get in here." He held the door to his apartment open to me.

I froze, unsure of where to look or what to do. I glanced again at Elizabeth's door.

"Get in here now, before I take your clothes and leave you out here."

I snapped out of my daze and went in his apartment. I opened my mouth to speak. To ask what had happened to Elizabeth, but Allen smiled again, slyly, and I thought better of talking.

"You know, after you left last time, Elizabeth and I talked about you. She laughed at how proud you were of making her cum. She said you were a little below average with your mouth, and you couldn't clean a bathroom for shit. She would never have you back. She never has any of her servants back a second time, but she definitely wouldn't have made an exception for you."

I looked down at my feet, but couldn't help noticing that, despite the disappointing news, my erection was growing the more he mocked me. Telling me how little I matter never fails to make me hard, especially when I've let my pride grow a little too much.

"But I saw how dazzled you were by her, and I thought you might not ask many questions if you got invited back. So when Elizabeth left town for a few days, I decided to lay a little trap for you. Tell me, have you served men before?"

"No sir," I said, weakly.

"Never? Not even a handjob in a locker room? That seems like something you'd do."

"No sir. I've cleaned up after other men before. I've eaten their cum out of women, but that's all." I assumed, actually, that I had cleaned up after Allen before, but he would've known that better than me.

"Well I'm going to teach you how to serve a man, and you're going to serve me today. And you'll do it happily and willingly. Want to know why? Because if you do, and if I'm really happy with you, I'll let you watch the video of Elizabeth sitting on your face. She might have said you weren't great, but she looks like she's enjoying it. At one point, she puts her fingers in her mouth and sucks on them. She doesn't always do that." He stopped and waited for me to process what he'd said.

"There's a tape?" I asked?

"Elizabeth likes to tape herself riding trash like you. She gets off watching herself get off, or something like that. Sometimes she sends me copies -- I guess she thinks every man must want to watch her moan. I don't have the heart to tell her that she's not really my type. But I think you must want to see what was happening above her skirt while she ground her cunt on your face?"

"Yes", I blurted very quickly.

"Then beg to serve me. Beg me to teach you how to serve men. Beg to know what it's like to have my dick."

I paused, and thought about how to beg a man. Was it different from begging a woman? Probably not that different, I supposed. It probably just required the same kind of debasement that went into properly subjugating yourself to a woman for her pleasure. "Please sir, show me how to please men. Teach me how to be of use to those who are superior to me. Change me into a good slave, and please let me experience your dick, sir." I hoped that was what he wanted to hear.

I wasn't sure I actually wanted any of the things I'd just asked for. I wanted, almost desperately, to relive the experience with Elizabeth. And I think I was willing to let him fuck me in order to get even a weak, video facsimile of that. Besides, women had pegged me, and I'd liked it. I had served women whom I hadn't found physically attractive, and I'd liked it. I'd done plenty of things I hadn't really wanted to do, simply because I wanted to serve a woman, and that woman wanted me to do those things. I'd almost always liked it. Maybe this would be similar. And Allen was good looking enough -- nearly six feet, barrel-chested, with dark curly hair and a dimpled chin. He wore a slim fitting sweater and jeans with enough stretch in them to show that he likely never missed leg day at the gym. Maybe having to serve him to get a look at that video would not be too high a price.

"That was pretty weak," Allen smirked. "It wasn't remotely convincing. We'll work on that later. For now, you might as well start by cleaning my apartment. I never really got the whole nude maid thing, but the place needs it, so have at it."

I got the "whole nude maid" thing in a big way. It was degrading to provide a practical service, one that almost no one enjoys doing, while nude and exposed. No one could get down on their knees and bend over to clean a toilet, exposing their own asshole to the world, and walk away with any dignity or pride in themselves. I was thinking just that as I cleaned Allen's toilet. He walked by, carrying a tumbler of scotch, and laughed as he caught site of me. "OK, I get it. Seeing this really does help me get over any urge I might have to treat you like a human being," he said. He reached out and put his hand on my ass, letting his index finger find its way between my cheeks to rest on my hole. He massaged it for a second, then pulled his hand back suddenly, and slapped hard, aiming at the base of my ass, where my balls hung. I grimaced, but said thank you. "Good," he said simply, then left the room. "Finish up and come to the bedroom," he called out behind him.

I crawled to the bedroom and knocked. "Get in here," he called. I crawled into the room and looked around. Allen was on the bed, leaning back against the headboard, still fully dressed. Across from the bed, there was a large TV on the wall, currently displaying a paused scene from a porn movie. A muscled man pinched his own nipple while inhaling from a vial of poppers stuck under his nose. The man looked a little like Allen.

"Kneel in front of the bed, facing the TV, and put this on," Allen said as he tossed a small, pink silicon chastity device at me. I'd worn that model before, so I knew how to pull my shaft and testicles through the first, snug ring, then fasten the second piece to it, squeezing my testicles out of a gap between the bottoms of the rings and trapping my penis in the small tube. I struggled a little to fit into it, as, despite myself, I was half hard, but I eventually managed. There was a padlock that secured the two pieces together, and I clicked it shut and looked to Allen for further instruction.

"You're now going to learn what I like. I've put together these clips showing you what to expect, and what you'll need to be able to do. You'll watch these, and you'll learn. While you watch, I've got also got a little audio loop for you to listen to through these headphones, to get you in the right mindset."

"Yes sir," I said, and Allen put the headphones over my ears.

The voice coming through them was Elizabeth's. The audio loop was short, only a few seconds of speech followed by a longer spell of silence, but it was unmistakably her voice. "You are a worthless little faggot," she hissed in my ears, then silence, then again.

Allen clicked play on the video, and the camera panned out a little. The man was Allen, and he was being filmed in his living room, which I'd just cleaned. He stood in front of a slender, smooth-shaved man, kneeling and naked but for the same pink chastity device I now had on.

"You are a worthless little faggot," Elizabeth intoned.

Allen grabbed the man's head and pulled it hard to his left nipple. The man took it in his mouth and sucked it, gently at first, then hard and with a little teeth. The man's hands found Allen's balls first and cupped them, rolling them around. Then they slid around to Allen's ass and massaged it, kneading his ass cheeks while continuing to work his nipples with his mouth. Allen took another sniff off the poppers and held it for a few seconds before exhaling with a long groan. It seemed like his penis had gone from soft to ragingly hard in just the few second he'd held the poppers in. The sound on the video must have been up loud, because I could hear it through the headphones: "It's time to eat my ass. Get your tongue all the way in there and work it, hard." Allen lay on his back and pulled the man's head to his crotch, wrapping his legs around the man's face and trapping him.

"You are a worthless faggot," Elizabeth whispered directly into my head.

Allen alternated between moans and grunted instructions. "Tongue all the way in bitch... Mmm, yeah, fuck yeah... Now lick around my hole, hard... uhh, fuck... now jerk my cock." I watched intently. I had seen some gay porn before, but it had always seemed uninteresting, the men obviously faking their enthusiasm. But neither Allen nor the other man were faking anything on the screen. The man's dick strained to get hard against the chastity device, and with his free hand, he pinched his nipples. He moaned into Allen's asshole like eating it gave him a pleasure I'd never experienced.

"You're a worthless faggot," Elizabeth's voice chimed in.

"Do you think you're ready bitch?" the Allen on the screen asked, releasing his legs' hold on the man's head.

"Yes sir, please give this bitch your cock. Please fuck my aching hole," the man begged.

"You can do better," Allen said, and pulled the man's head up towards the bottle of poppers. Allen put the bottle under the man's nose and covered his mouth and one nostril. The man inhaled deeply, and, as the nitrates hit his system, his eyes took on a craven look.

"I have to be fucked by you sir. My asshole needs to be stretched and pounded. I need to make you cum. Because I am a worthless faggot, and you are my owner."

Elizabeth reminded me that I too, was a worthless faggot.

The man flipped onto his back on the floor and pulled his legs up and to the sides, presenting his smooth hole to Allen. Allen spat on it, and in one harsh movement, pushed his cock all the way inside the man. The man grimaced and grunted, thrashing around underneath Allen. Allen pumped in and out of the man's asshole in long, hard strokes, indifferent to whether it was pleasing or hurting his slave.

The porn I typically watched didn't feature a lot of men penetrating either men or women. If there was any penetration, it was women pegging men. So I was surprised to see the animal shine in Allen's face as he recklessly tore this man's asshole apart with no goal or concern other than his own pleasure. The last time a woman fucked my ass, she did so because it made her feel in control, and because she liked to see me subservient. It was controlled and cerebral. She had instructed me to praise her while she fucked me. She didn't fuck with the raw power and selfishness that Allen did. She didn't do it because she had to come, right now, and my hole belonged to her.

"You are a worthless faggot."

Allen grunted one last time and gave a final, intense thrust. He froze, inserted to the hilt in the man, and growled. He let the man's legs go, and pulled out. He turned around and walked out of frame, but called back, "You better eat what I gave you, or you're never getting out of that cock cage." To my amazement, the man, still with lust in his eyes, began to probe his asshole, pulling out strings of cum and bringing them to his mouth. As the man deep-throated his cum-covered fingers, the screen froze.

"You are a worthless faggot." I didn't agree with Elizabeth, exactly, but I had a new appreciation.

Allen, the one behind me on the bed, tapped my shoulder. While I had been watching and listening, he'd taken off his jeans and sweater, and was now beside me in only briefs, his very hard cock head peaking above the waistband and throbbing purple.

Allen pulled one ear of the headphone aside for a second and said, "for this next video, you'll need this." He handed me a medium sized dildo attached to a strap. "Open your mouth boy," he said as he pushed the tip against my lips. I opened and took it as far as I could before gagging. Saliva pooled in my mouth as he fastened the strap around my head, pushing the dildo deeper into my throat. I tried my best to accommodate it, but I gagged a little, and spittle spilled out around the rubber cock and down my chin. Before I knew it, there was a vial of poppers under my nose and, with my mouth full, I had to breath it in.

"You are a worthless faggot."

The poppers hit me a few seconds later and relaxed my throat. I closed my eyes and let the warm, slow first wave of the drug run down my body. The bottle stayed under my nose, and the second hit brought a manic need to touch myself, to pleasure myself. Given the chastity device, I had limited options for that, so I rubbed my nipples as the feeling coursed through me. The third hit made my brain mushy, and made the ring of muscles around my asshole glow hot with a need to be caressed. "I am a worthless faggot," I whispered, in time with Elizabeth, as I massaged my hole.

The video switched to a new scene, showing a short man with a dildo down his throat, on his back, with his legs in the air. His limp cock lay on his belly, encased in a chastity device. He played with his asshole feverishly. Thrusting three fingers in and out of himself. On a screen in front of him, four small windows showed men's faces, each watching Allen's slave through a webcam on top of the monitor. On the right hand side of the screen, a chat window was open. I couldn't make out the text, but could see that new messages were scrolling in. "Billy says to smack your balls with your left hand slave," a voice from off camera boomed. The man obeyed, smacking his balls with his left hand while his right stayed lodged in his ass.

"You are a worthless faggot."

"Take your right hand out of your ass and smack your face with it. Smear that lube on your face for Ryan," the voice ordered. The man did as told. He didn't look like he was enjoying the acts, but he was obeying, dutifully. "Do you think he's done enough guys?" Apparently, the men on screen assented, because Allen came into frame, spun the man around so his face was directly below the webcam, and straddled the man's neck, his dick hanging over the man's spittle and lube covered cheeks. "Ok, you get your reward." Allen said, as he undid the dildo-gag's strap and removed it.

"Thank you sir. I've been dreaming of pleasuring you," the man managed to say before Allen slid forward shoved his asshole over the man's open mouth.

Wow, I thought. He was doing all that just for the reward of eating Allen's ass? Then I thought of all the things I'd done to be allowed to lick a woman's feet, and how much more I'd have done to tongue an asshole.

As Allen ground his asshole over the man's lower lip and chin, he pulled the man's hand up to his cock. The man enthusiastically jerked. As I watched, I realized I hadn't blinked in a while, and that I was still rubbing my hole, even after the poppers had worn off.

"You are a worthless faggot," Elizabeth insisted, as I watched Allen's cock erupt in ropes of cum sprayed along the man's chest.

The bottle of poppers was back under my nose, and as I inhaled deeply, I felt a hard stabbing between my fingers, into my hole. Allen was shoving a lubed dildo into me. He hadn't waited for the poppers to take effect before plopping the dildo head past my sphincter, but as the drug hit me, the wave of sharp pain morphed to pleasure and I pushed back against the plastic cock, letting it slide deeper into me.

The image on the screen changed again; I expected to see a video of another man in my same situation -- caged dick, gagged, impaled on a dildo -- but this time the image was different. The two men from the previous videos stood together in a shower, embracing. They were nude except for cotton panties, one in pale blue, the other in pink, both with white fringe around the edges. The shower wasn't on, but they were nonetheless soaked, and they were making out passionately. Their hands strayed up and down each other's bodies as their tongues wrestled between their mouths. The left guy, in pink, slid his had into the back of the other's panties and cupped his ass cheek and a stream of piss burst into frame from off screen and splashed along their chests and faces. They licked it off each other and shared it between their mouths while their hands continued exploring, and their crotches ground together.

"You're a worthless faggot." I mean, I definitely found this hot, so perhaps Elizabeth's voice was on to something.

The screen began to flash through short clips and fragments of scenes. Some featured Allen or one or the other man, some were strangers. A nude, oiled man kneeled in front of three business men, mouth open, holding a tray with whips and dildos on it. Then two men in a sixty-nine pissed into each others' mouths. Then a close up of a man's asshole as a tongue bathed around it, coaxing a huge amount of cum out of it. Then a nude man in high heels in a room crowded with well dressed men and women. A cocktail party of some kind. The man bent over at the waist and invited others to use him. Finally, a close-up of that man's ass being fucked by a larger cock than I've ever seen while the rest of the group watched.

I wanted to hear Elizabeth remind me that I was a worthless faggot, but Allen turned off the screen and the audio in my ears.

"Turn around and beg me to use your slave body," Allen said, calmly.

I turned to find Allen nude in the bed, his cock standing proudly against the abs, and a video camera in his hands, pointed at me.

I opened my mouth to speak, but then remembered the dildo down my throat. I choked around it and Allen laughed deeply. He moved to the end of the bed and removed the dildos from my throat and asshole. As he did, the tip of his cock brushed against my chest, and a hunger swelled inside my guts at the touch.

Allan sat back and, without being asked again, I stared into the camera lens and said, entirely sincerely, "I want you to own my body. I want to give up all control so that, as and when you see fit, I can be used by you. I'm doing this in the hopes that you might fuck me, and because I'm a worthless faggot, sir."

Allen leaned forward, slapped my face, and put the poppers under my nose again. I took a long hit and held it in. "Beg me to fuck your ass," he said in a bare whisper.

The poppers coursed through me from my chest to my hole, and I stared at Allen's purple-hard dick as I said, "Please fuck my faggot ass as hard as you want. I need to feel your power tear me apart. I want to know what it's like to be your fuckhole."

Saying the words aloud had almost a magical effect on me. I believed them. I felt a true, animal subservience to him that I had never felt before. He was an alpha cock and I was a beta hole, and I needed to give him anything he wanted.

He jumped off the bed and pushed me down on my stomach. In one quick action, my hands were behind my back and his cock was pressed between my cheeks. "Say it again, slave," he ordered.

"Please fuck my faggot ass as hard as you want. I need to feel your power tear me apart. I want to know what it's like to be your fuckhole."

"Again slave!"

"Please fuck my faggot ass as hard as you want. I need to feel your power tear me apart. I want to know what it's like to be your fuckhole." This time I shouted it.

His cock split my asshole open in one smooth, hard motion, driving himself entirely into me as his body pressed against my back and pushed me into the floor. He was bigger than the dildo, and the pain of his entrance continued to pulse from my sphincter as he fucked me hard, stroke after stroke after stroke. I whimpered and gasped and moaned and screamed, and then shouted "thank you for fucking your faggot meat sir." It only made him fuck me harder and faster. The pain was intense and amazing, and as he began to grunt and reach his climax, I realized I was going to cum too, despite the cock cage.

The screen in front of me came back to life as I was grunting through Allen's increasingly sweaty and forceful fucking. I saw Elizabeth, her shining hair perfectly in place around her face, straddling my head. She moved her hips against my face in small, controlled circles. Her breathing came in short inhales and exhales through pursed lips, the pace quickening almost imperceptibly as she approached her first climax.

Allen grabbed my head by the hair, pulling my head back and stretching my neck. He growled and erupted deep inside me. As I felt his cum fill me, any lingering desire for the cold, cruel detachment of Elizabeth on screen in front of me was pushed aside by the joy at serving this powerful beast behind me. I cried with pleasure as the feeling of Allen's cum sloshing into me brought me over the edge, and I filled my little cock cage with seed. From now on, I was going to be a fuckhole for powerful, selfish, strong owners: a real cock slave.