Breakfast Treat

Every morning he weighs me. I must do as instructed, the same way each day, just like a ritual. He will take the lead that is linked to a collar around my neck and guide me toward the bathroom. In there, my bare feet feeling the cold tiles, I must remove my nightie. The icy air nips at my skin, with my nipples becoming stiff. I catch a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror: naked, pale white skin, completely helpless.

"Step on," he instructs me.

I move onto the scales. We wait a few seconds for it to calibrate my weight. I hold my breath, hoping that the number will please him.

"119 pounds," he says. "Very good."

I feel satisfied that I have pleased him. I work hard on keeping my weight low and my figure slim.

I step off the scales and he guides me into his bedroom. I feel a tug at my collar -- he is impatient this morning. Inside the bedroom he sits down at the bed. And as with every morning, I know what I must do.

I gently drop to my knees, resting them on the carpet. I feel very exposed at this moment, with my bottom all bare. I look down at my body: my budding breasts, helped along with hormone treatment, sticking out. I look further down at my dangling belly button piercing. And then, deeper down, between my legs, is what is left of my old masculinity. A small, shrivelled, tiny penis. Permanently limp. It easily nestles between my larger, feminine thighs.

I look up at him. My view of him is from my knee-based position: a man, a real man, starring down at me. He is naked but for his trunks: dark hair across his chest, and his thick, bulging arms leaning on the mattress. He grins at me.

I move my fingers, my nails still painted and polished bright pink, and place them on his trunks. I slip them down to reveal his growing, hardening cock. I lick my lips, in anticipation and in preparation.

"What would you like this morning?" I ask him, delicately and soft.

He considers his response whilst placing a hand on the side of my face.

"Nice and slow," he orders.

I place my hand around his dick -- by this point it has grown beyond 8 inches. It is hard, firm, proud. I pull at the foreskin to reveal the large head. Then, slowly, I move my head towards it, opening my warm mouth to receive the tip.

My lips meet the tip and I start kissing it, using my tongue to dab at it. I do this for a minute, building up enough saliva to go further and deeper down. All the while I look up at him, with his domineering eyes looking back down at me.

His cock starts twitching. I can feel that he is ready to want more. I'm not the type of girl to deny him. And so I start moving down his thick rod, using my tongue to place pressure, whilst continuing to suck. I make satisfied noises, mostly to please him because I know that he likes that, but also because this is the part of the morning in which I'm in heaven. I learned a long time ago that my rightful place was on my knees with a cock in my mouth -- I guess it is why this arrangement works so well.

Having slowly inched my way down I reach the base of his cock. The entire thing is now wedged inside my mouth and into my throat. The first time I tried this I gagged, fell backward, and coughed up violently. But I was now an expert cocksucker -- nothing much surprises me anymore.

The tip of my mouth feels his manly pubes. I marvelled at his pubic hair: masculine and strong. Whereas my crotch was always waxed smooth, further exposing my small, flaccid cock and non-existent balls. My eyes now just stare at his crotch and flexed, six-pack. This is the bit I enjoy most, I think -- of having a man's penis fully inside me. I guess it reveals my true status and place on this world in being another man's, a real man's, plaything.

I work my way back up the shaft. My spit now serving as a lubricant to make the next part all the more accessible. I come all the way back up to the top, looking him straight in the eye. He is enjoying this, I can tell: his exhaling is becoming all the more pronounced.

My plan is to continue this process, of going back and forth for the next few minutes, to make him really want it. But this is all shelved when he places a hand on the back of my head. He holds on tight. And this is when I know he wants to mix things up. He doesn't need to tell me anything else. He wants it faster.

And so I start bobbing my head up and down, whilst his hand remains in place on my head. I'm gobbling up his dick, licking my tongue on the shaft and on the head as I go up and back down. But I feel his fingers tighten around my hair and my braids, which makes me fear that he wants to take full control.

"Get ready, bitch," he tells me.

I count to prepare myself: three, two, one...

Both of his hands grab onto my skull and he lifts me off his slobbered cock. I look at him and he stares back at me, his eyes consumed with lust.

"Open wide," he says.

I open my mouth back as far as it can go. And this is the end of my autonomy in this process. It is now all him. I will just be a vessel to help him reach orgasm.

"Good girl."

And like that, he starts bopping my head up and down his cock. His powerful, muscled arms use my mouth as a jackhammer, whilst he aims his crotch firmly into my mouth. I'm up and down, back and forth, until I start feeling dizzy. My lips pound down on the base of his penis, before then being raised into the sky. I try to block this bit out because I can't think straight. Just need to remember that it is all for him.

"Fuck, I'm going to blow," he struggles to say.

The final thrust downward is firmly onto the base of his cock. He holds me in place whilst he cums into my mouth and down my throat. By this point I'm starting to struggle for air and my eyes feel like they are going to pop out of my head. But there is no point attempting to struggle. I am completely his: a fuck-toy, simply to use and discard at his whim.

I'm held in place for about half-a-minute. Then, when his orgasm has subsided, he lets go of my head. I move back up, to get a bit of air, but also to finish off the final act. I clean up any spilt cum, noticing a splodge that is on his leg, and I wait for any remaining embers of cum to appear. With everything cleaned up, I look back up at him.

He smiles down at me.

"Now, girl," he orders, "it's time that you made my breakfast."

I get up from the carpet and I notice my knees are red. I lick my lips to remove any final traces of semen. Yes, time for his breakfast -- a large meal for my big man. Whereas for me, my breakfast was the spunk from my man's penis. Nothing more satisfying for a cocksucker.