A Sissy Enslaved

April 20, 2009

“On your knees, sissy.” Pointing to a spot on the floor
before him, Sir Michael added “Now.” There was no change to the
tone or volume, but I could hear the power behind his words.
Before I knew what I was even doing, I rolled off the table and
knelt before him.
“Open your mouth.” Just standing there, he warned “Don’t
make me ask again.”
I couldn’t believe what I was about to do. Responding to his
commands almost on instinct, I slowly opened my mouth wide.
Afraid to even touch – never mind taste – his cock, I opened as
wide as I could.
“Very good.” Grabbing the back of my head, he pulled me
roughly forward, forcing his cock into my mouth. Disgusted and
ashamed, I gagged on the torpedo of flesh, sure I was going to
throw up.
“Relax and suck,” he told me, “Relax and enjoy it.” It was
like he had some kind of hypnotic control over me. Despite my
every desire to spit out his cock and run, I felt myself relaxing
and my urge to gag fading. “Good, now suck it. Suck it like a
good little sissy.”
Shaking my head no – as best I could – I pleaded with my
eyes. He could fuck my face, force me to swallow his dick, but he
couldn’t force me to take the initiative. Maybe, just maybe, he’d
tire of my passive acceptance and lose interest in me.
Sir Michael shrugged, his massive shoulders rolling beneath
his shirt. Lowering his coarse, callused hand to my face, he
pinched my nose tightly shut. “Suck or suffocate. Your choice.”

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