A Submissive's Journey Pt. 03

"Thanks, faggot," he said and then pulled out.

Off in the distance a phone began to ring...

--

My return to consciousness was a sharp one. I still lay thereon the floor of my room. The video channel played on and the dildo-bottle lay on the floor in front of me in a puddle of drool.

The phone rang and rang and rang. It jangled my every nerve. I suppressed the urge to just run over and beat it to dust, more from the fact that running seemed literally impossible in my current state than any concern for he instrument of my torture.

I took a few deep breaths and slowly got to my feet. My body seemed to move back and forth to my heavy heartbeat.

Even though I knew perfectly well where the phone was I kind of wandered about the room as if in search of it. Looking first over at my bed and then back on the desk where I had three remaining beers. I contemplated them for a minute and decided that I might actually be able to speak if I had one so I cracked it and tried to chug it.

Big mistake. I retched and almost lost it all over the floor, but after I recovered I took a few smaller swigs, which stayed down all right. My clothes were still gone of course, but I looked at myself to make sure. Down on my one thigh was a big wet spot. I must have been leaking like mad in that dream.

Damn what a dream. Never had one like that before.

Reaching down my finger pooled around in the wetness. I brought it up to inspect it and then gave it a lick. It tasted good so I went back and got the rest.

Then finally I answered the phone.

It had rung like a million times since I got up and only one person would likely do that. Looking back now I think that maybe if I hadn't taken that drink or tasted my juice things might have ended up much different. You never know about those things really. Maybe it is all fate and you don't have a choice I don't know, but for me it went this way.

"Hello," I said into the phone groggily.

"Hey. Where are you?" It was Tom, of course and he sounded kind of gruff. It occurred to me that since he had called me he knew perfectly well where I was, but I didn't say anything.

"Do you know what time it is?" The voice asked.

"Umm well, no, I mean Yeah," looking at the clock by the bed, "it's two-thirty. Oh shit. Yeah I know. Right. Yeah I said so."

I'm leaving out all of what he said because it was a bunch of stupid shit I didn't remember anyways. Bottom line is he was mad because I had missed my date and that the guy was gonna head over and pick me up at the dorm in like 5 minutes so throw some clothes on and go out to meet him.

No it didn't matter that I was hungover and looked like shit I could take care of everything later. He said something about the track, but I wasn't paying attention.

Just then the buzzer thing on my door went off. I totally picked the wrong morning to have my head like this. The intercom was even worse than the phone. I just hug up on Tom and answered it.

"Hello"

"Hi there is a Milton Silver here to see you," it was the security guard, probably mad that someone had woken him up.

"OK yeah. Umm. Just tell him wait a couple minutes I'll be right down."

I kind of cleaned myself up quick threw on some aftershave that I had and fresh jeans and shirt and headed out.

This whole time I had not even considered not going. I am not sure why. There was no reflection about what I was getting myself into, nothing at all, Actually I was kind of looking forward to it because this Milton guy for some reason I had him pegged as a drinker and lately I had been dipping in the sauce quite a bit.

I got down to the entrance and waved thanks to the guard, looking around for my ride. He wasn't hard to spot. About 5'10, light build. He had an angular face, black hair peppered on the sides with gray. He wore light dress pants and shirt and a black blazer. If you made me sum it up you would it would be something like Dracula meets Miami Vice. It worked for him though.

He was talking on a phone. It was still rather rare at a that point to see someone on a mobile and it wasn't one of those big boxlike ones so he had to be doing pretty well for himself

We met and he smiled, leading me to a black luxury sedan. I half expected him to have a chauffer, but he was driving himself.

"Hello, I am Milton Silver." He addressed himself formally.

"I'm John." I didn't.

"I figured I would take you out to my place for a bit and then we could go out to the track, the company has a box out there."

"That's cool. Sorry Tom called me I kind of slept in." I apologized.

"Yeah, he told me that you went out last night and got yourself tight." He reached into the console and produced a silver flask. "Here help yourself."

I accepted it, removing the cap and sniffing. Some sort of whiskey I supposed. I tilted back the flask and took a belt.

"Go on, go on. Take the edge off, you want to enjoy yourself", he prodded.

It was kind of an obvious attempt, but I didn't mind and I took a big gulp, swallowed it and quickly took another small hit off the bottle before restoring the cap. The familiar calm washed over me and my jangled nerves were silenced.

He drove on in silence for a while as we left the city and slipped into the countryside. It was nice being out of the bustle of town for once. Reminded me a little of home. A quick thought came over me about what my parents or people back home might think if they knew I was in this car under these pretenses and I took another heavy belt from the flask which took me from taking the edge of to a full blown glow.

I looked over at Milt and he was already looking at me smiling.

"You know you were a naughty boy leaving me hanging back there you know, John. Milton admonished. "It's ok though. You will make it up to me."

He took my left hand in his right and placed it on his lap.

My palm landed on his thigh but missed any special part, only the tip of my finger brushed every so lightly. I held still for a second and then started exploring, just keeping my hand flat and moving slowly down to the center where his bulge lived.

Shifting around in his seat to get more comfortable, the man old enough to be my father eased the power seat back, reached over again this time collecting not my hand but the top of my head. He matted the my hair lightly into his fist and gently pulled me down towards him, only when I resisted ever so slightly did he use force, shoving my face into his groin.

"Lick."

It was a command not from the soft gentle voice he had been using, but of one long used to getting his way in boardrooms.

I started licking his pants, which were made of a sort of silk. My tongue found his cock, slightly stiffening but not yet hard. My tongue went right to the head, the most sensitive part. I wanted him to get hard and horny and free himself so I could taste his flesh.

But, he was a practiced master of even his own obsessions. Through a simple force of will he kept himself from getting fully erect, making me work for it. I would lick and kiss him, making little cooing sounds like I was really getting into it. The truth was I really did get into it and I think he knew that.

He drove on for probably ten minutes like that, my face in his crotch and his hand holding my head down. Through careful maneuvering I had managed to work the head of his cock into my mouth so it as like I was giving him a very short blowjob through his slacks, but I could never get enough depth.

Just then the car started to slow down. I filled with anticipation thinking perhaps Milton had decided it was too much for him and he was pulling off the side of the road for a full on blowjob. To be honest, I was really looking forward to it. At first I hadn't really cared, but after spending the last bit of time in his lap I was turning into a cock hungry slut.

He pulled the car over and we went over a small bump. Curious, I tried to lift my head to see where we were, but Milton held my still.

"Don't stop," he ordered.

I went back to sucking on his head like before when the car stopped entirely. We sat there idling for a couple minutes and then he pulled forward about ten feet and stopped again.

What was he doing?

His breathing was getting noticeably heavier so I knew that he was really getting into it, but what exactly "it" was I had no real idea.

The car pulled forward and then stopped again. The sound of a power window being lowered froze me for a second, but a squeeze on my hair and I resumed my tiny sucks.

"Good day, Mr. Silver, how may I help you today?" Asked a cheery feminine voice.

"Just a deposit my dear. One Second." He said, "John, my dear, would you be so kind as to grab the deposit from the glove box. It is all ready."

Then he lifted me off his lap and motioned to the compartment.

I reached over, opened it, pulling out the only envelope it contained and handed it to Milt, but he motioned me away.

"You may hand it to her." He said.

There was nothing else to do so I reached over him and out the window to a smiling girl who was maybe in her early twenties, pretty with curly blond hair.

"Thank you. I will have the receipt in a sec.", she said taking the deposit.

Before she could turn away, Mr. Silver took me by the hair again and pushed me back down onto his crotch. For the second before I disappeared a look of shock came over my face and then I was gone from view.

His cock was rigid against my cheek where I rested a second before rubbing my lips up and down the shaft over and over.

"Thank you. Here is your receipt Mr. Silver. You have a good day now," said the pretty bank teller. Then she giggled.

The power window rolled back up and we drove off but just before we were out of earshot I heard "Oh my God..."

I flushed with shame, but at the same time a kind of excitement came over me.

"Well young John. You seem to work down there rather well, but we will see. I need to know now before I let you suck my cock. Are you willing to please me and my cock, in any manner I wish, wherever, and whenever I wish?"

I paused not knowing what to do.

"Answer John," he ordered

"Anywhere? Anytime?" I asked.

"Yes John, Anytime, anywhere, without question, you will be my sexual servant and may help with a few other things. You will get in return the understanding of the meaning of your life." He continued, "Answer John. Answer me now. Yes or No."

It all passed through my head so fast. I wasn't ready to make a decision like this. Why would I want to? And yet here I was my head in his lap willingly. I had not resisted where other men would have fought. Maybe I wasn't really a man in that sense. It was too much.

"OK, John I guess not I will take you home." he said, pulling me off his crotch and releasing my hair.

"Yes," I said meekly

"What John? I could not hear you? And call me Sir I am your better."

"Yes Sir. I will do it." My words came out practically on their own.

"Say out loud exactly what you will do and give me your word. Your word is your bond." He stated.

"I will please your cock whenever you want, where and how you want." I said, quickly adding "Sir".

"Give your word, John." He said waiting.

"I give my word." I said with finality.

"Fair enough now you may suck my cock. We have about 10 minutes until we get to the house. Do not bring me to orgasm before we arrive." He ordered. "Understood?"

"Yes Sir"

I waited for his hand to pull me back down, but realized obedience was simply accepted now. Bending over him I reached down and undid the buttons of his fly, slipping my hand inside. He was wearing boxers and I fished around for the hole, finally getting a hold and slipped him right out through.

Some men look older and some younger than their age. It seems to be the same way with penises. When a guy gets older sometimes his penis isn't as reactive or wont get quite as hard, but Mr. Silver's wasn't like that at all. I bet in a blind taste test between his cock and a young man's you would have a hard time telling which was whose.

Between all of my work prior, the public activity and the addition of a new boy he was trying for the first time, Milt's hilt was rock hard at full mast. It had been too much for me the waiting, the second my lips touched the head of his cock I dove deep down, needing for feel the length of him.

Unlike the fantasy state of the dream where I took the monster cock the whole ay to my belly, reality told me a different story and I gagged heavily almost losing it in his lap. I thought he would admonish me, but he let me play the fool this time.

Now more slowly up and down the length I worked into a rhythm concentrating mostly on the first few inches of what was a average or slightly better cock, keeping the helmet in my mouth the whole time, just working with my lips.

Sometimes I would get to fast, making him get too close, and he would hold my head and direct me to a much slower speed. Two or three seconds up and then the same back down again. Before long I would be up to the speed I wanted to go. My body's natural rate of sucking that would get me the seed I craved. After a few times of this, he pulled my mouth completely off.

"Be careful, Son. Your job is to suck my cock, not make me cum until I say it. Just lick my balls for now." He said.

I obeyed lathering them with my tongue and then going back and forth from one to the other, gently sucking. His hard shaft rested on my cheek. Where I had just seconds ago been desperately working for a load I know took a more relaxed aspect.

Throughout the early part of the ride where I was in his lap working through the material of his slacks and later when I was sucking up and down, I had been hovering over him and holding myself up with my arms. As it had been more than a few minutes, my less than fully developed arms had started to tire. This new position allowed me to relax and merely rest my head in his lap. I curled my legs up on my seat and in a fetal position suckled sweetly.

I occurred to me that this might be what he meant by my meaning to life.

Many things assaulted my senses that should have been repellent to me, but somehow were not. The smell between his legs, a mix of his manly scent and some other juices was not something that I would have ordinarily thought pleasant, but down here it felt right. In fact, it washed over me and excited me. The taste of his cock and balls was that of skin cooped up since the early morning shower, where the hormones of exhilaration had seeped through the pores, sweat had gathered and saliva and precum had mixed, fermenting into a taboo cocktail. Certainly, the sights and sounds down here were not what were expected of a young horny college kid.

There was a turntable delight of feelings from belonging, to perversion, to disgust. All of them were experiences: essential, active, alive. There was a sense that things were happening to me and that I as a part of them, a secret path that unwound in moments of delight and suspense.

We pulled up at the large old brownstone on the hill. The lawn was the sort of spacious that says you have room to spare with the added benefit of keeping the others at bay. Finely trimmed hedges lined the path to the house with beds of white flowers trimming the edges. Four cylindrical pillars supported the porch area, which was flanked by large bay windows fronted by elegant white couches.

Mr. Silver opened the door and motioned me inside. He removed his shoes and I followed suit. The foyer was wide and open with a wooden staircase. We went to the left into a living area with a cathedral ceiling. A large semicircular couch set faced a wide screen television. I was directed to the couch and then left to my own designs for a short time.

All of the sexual action of late had been directed at pleasing my host, but my body was not about to be entirely left out of the loop. As I sat sinking into the black leather cushions I noticed a sensation of wetness on my thigh. Sure enough I had deposited some cock dew and with a little naughty delight my finger slipped down my pants and returned to my lips. I was really starting to develop a taste for nature's lubricant. It as so good that I reached down to see if I could extract some more, followed by another taste and then more searching.

Lacking further supplies I decided to free my member and try to work some out. In prior masturbation sessions I had noticed that if I squeezed from the prostate up the length of my shaft, usually a large drop of precum would appear. I would just use it as lube, being as how I was a nice little straight boy, but now I was expanding my horizons and my plan was to devour it as every little taste I got seemed to egg on my natural passion.

Fingers ran up the underside of my phallus, milking a bit at a time to the very tip and not surprisingly a clear drop appeared. I gently gathered it, closed my eyes and brought it up to my pouting lips. The slick salty mixture sent a tiny tremor of lust through my system as a draught stricken vampire taking a drop of blood.

It was participating in this endeavor that it was my fortune to be surprised by a voice that I had not heard before.

"You must be the Boss's new houseboy." The voice was foreign, Latin sounding.

I tried to cover myself up but it was a fool's game. My pants were entirely around my ankles. The best I could do was conceal my crotch and look over my shoulder in embarrassment.

Houseboy? That sounded permanent. Perhaps the young man didn't really understand English all that well. He was in his twenties, stood about five foot ten, was lightly muscled, but cut, wore work jeans and a tank top. Oddly, a half naked person sitting on the couch tasting his own junk didn't really seem to faze him.

Just then Mr. Silver came back carrying two tall glasses.

"Oh, Hector, I am glad you are here. This is Jack he will be around from time to time."

Hector and I exchanged greetings.

"This one enjoys giving attention like the last couple so feel free to ask him if there is anything you need. I am sure it wont take much encouragement," Mr. Silver continued. "Will it John?"

"Umm, no Sir," I stammered not sure what to say.

"In fact, Hector, I see you have been working hard. Would you do me one last favor and feed the boy here? You see I want to save myself for later."

A grin washed over the tan face and he nodded, moving the coffee table out of the way and walking over in front of me on the couch.

He unfastened his pants, dropping the to the floor and whipped out his cock, already hard and a good six inches long. His balls hung down much further than the few other men that I had experienced so far.

Hector, put both his hands on the top of my head and pushed himself into my waiting mouth. The sweaty work smell was overpowering. Where just minutes ago I as reflecting on how natural all the new sights and smells of my new path were to me, now the attack of this almost rank smell stopped me in my tracks and my hands flew up to his thighs and I resisted for a second.

The cock head was on my lips and then pushed through the no longer virginal entrance to my mouth. His taste was overpowering as he shoved himself deep, immediately starting the thrusts of one who is getting close to the end. The power of it all, the smell, the taste, my revulsion, took control of me and while inside I wanted to resist further, my hands stopped pushing back from him, instead taking a posture of submission, arms raised slightly but limp wrested. I accepted his irrumation.

A torrent of filthy words in a foreign tongue came at me from above while his cock dominated the entrance to my face. I heard "polla", "maricon" and "puta," over and over. His breathing was short and raspy. At points he would literally growl and shove deep, forcing me to gag and my eyes to water heavily.