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“Put your hands on the bars above your head and don’t let go until I tell you to.”

I never thought that I would want to be told what to do like this. Before Blair, I never once imagined that I would get off on dominance, or rather submission to someone else’s dominance. But I do. Not only do I obey his command without question, I love and crave it. If it sounds like I’m bragging, I guess in a way I am.

He moves away from the bed, toward the tray of toys laid out on the floor. From this angle I can’t see him as he lays a loving caress on each piece, but I hear it clearly. The plugs, the clamps, the restraints, the paddles, all hit a different pitch in my ear and add a rush to the torrent of feelings gathering in the pit of my stomach. Deliberately, I relax my muscles and turn down my hearing. I focus on him, his breathing, his heartbeat, all of him.

“You may have three accessories tonight, Jim. If you please me sufficiently in the next fifteen minutes I might give you the choice of all three.”

Such an incentive to do well is never lost on me. I know I will love whatever he does to me, but I always love it more when I have some active degree of participation in my own submission. He knows this of course.

He is already nude, as am I. Since I am not blindfolded, I do not allow myself to risk punishment by looking at him. Sometimes, when I am especially aroused as I am tonight, I have accidentally reached orgasm simply by looking at his naked body. I want to prevent any chance of that happening tonight. It’s been a while since we’ve had the time and energy to do this right. I need all of his attention toward me focussed on giving me what I need. I need to focus on pleasing him.

“Let go of the bars.” He waits until I comply. “Sit up on the side of the bed.”

He moves closer. His cock is soft, and for a moment I worry that I have disappointed him somehow. But then I recall the long shower he took earlier, and his instructions to me not to listen in while he washed, and I realize that he has set out to make my work a bit harder for me. So to speak.


Trying to strike a balance between my natural enthusiasm for a task I love, and the restraint necessary to make this great for him is challenging. Like most men, he enjoys having his cock sucked, but he loves it even more if other parts of his body are manipulated at the same time. I am tempted to cup his balls, perhaps rub his nipples, but I have only been told to suck. And so I do.

Because of his previous orgasm, his pre-cum is a bit lighter than normal. It still tastes better to me than the best beer, a fact that has the power to embarrass me when he requires me to admit to it out loud. When we first came together, we practiced safe sex religiously, even for blow jobs. It was never a question of trust, only of love and protection. To be honest, I had never before been with the same man long enough to stop using condoms, so the first time that I tasted Blair’s cum was a revelation for me. I don’t know if the love I feel for him just makes all of him taste sweet to me, or if I would love other men’s fluids just as much. It doesn’t matter. The truth is, I would drink his piss if he told me to.

He is hard now. Pulling my mind back to the present, I thrust my head forward and open my throat to achieve a deeper penetration. His cock is beautiful, and feels wonderful in my mouth. Actually, it fits into both my holes perfectly, as if I were made for it. I always marvel anew at that, every time he opens me up.

He taps my cheek gently, a sign to pull back a bit, a sign that he wants to change something. I hesitate for a moment, waiting for more instruction, wanting to please him.

“You are so good at that, Jim. But I need to just fuck for a minute. Hold still now, so I don’t hurt you.”

Oh God. He is so good to me. This is one of my favourite things. To be held in place, his hands on my head, while his cock rams into my throat. It has taken me all my life to find someone I trust enough to take me this way. To me, it’s even more intimate than anal penetration, because the physical pleasure should be all his, but isn’t. There are no nerves in the throat to equal the sensitivity of the prostate, but despite that I could come from this feeling alone, if I let myself. Which I won’t.

After a while, he pulls all the way out of my mouth. He is panting slightly. I keep my eyes down, but I can well imagine the look on his face from previous encounters – flushed, exuberant, exultant. For a sense of possession, of ownership, no harem-owning sultan could compare to a Blair who has just fucked my face full out. For a sense of triumph, no Fortune 500 executive could compare to me in that moment.

“That was great, Jim. Are you alright?” I nod, licking my lips. I think I know what’s coming, but I could be wrong.

“You’re doing pretty good here, but you’ve only got another 5 minutes to go to earn your choice of toys. Would you like to rest your tongue, or are you up for some more?”

Well, I guess I was wrong. I clear my throat. “More is fine, sir.”

“Excellent. We’ll trade places then. Down.”

Immediately upon hearing the command, I sink to my knees, facing the bed. With my arms at my sides - I learned quickly that he hates it when I stand at attention during these times - I wait and watch the floor.