Confessions of a Chastity Slave

Working up my courage and trying to control my anticipation, I knocked on the door. Fear struck me, and I had to suppress an urge to run away. But then, I heard him, unlocking the door.

And at last, I was face to face with Sean, my Master.

Well, he was tall and muscular, indeed. At least a foot taller than me, and brawny. And dressed sharp, in a gray pinstriped three piece suit that screamed of money as much as the massive hotel suite behind him.

He was black. I hadn't expected that. I realized with weird exhilaration that, most likely, I'd be a black man's bitch in a few minutes. I felt my ass clench involuntarily.

Sean looked down at me with his deep, rich brown eyes and favored me with a smile that melted something inside me. I submissively dropped my gaze to the floor.

"Welcome, my slave."

And I could only mumble back, "Master."

At that, he stepped back from the door and gestured me inside. I stumbled into the living room of his suite. I looked around, taking in the oak furniture, the persian rugs. This place probably cost in a day what my apartment cost in a month. He stepped behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders. They were quite big and they felt palpably heavy there. I could smell him, his scent, so very masculine, and feel the mass of his large body just inches from mine. I realized I was shivering hard.

Master turned me around to face him. I met his gaze again for a moment. He seemed to stare right into me, seeing all my vain little self-centered thoughts. I looked away again, still shuddering with nerves. He was looking at me, at my face, at my body, in a coldly evaluating way that I'd never experienced before.

Sean chuckled, shaking his head. "Those clothes are awful. Off. Time to inspect my new property."

At once, I began to undress, not daring to look up or challenge him. I fumbled with the buttons and got snagged on a sleeve, but soon enough I stood there nude, shivering at the cool air and my pumping adrenaline, clad in only the unremovable chastity tube. And still, his eyes on me. I had never felt so vulnerable. He said, "Walk for me," and I obliged. I walked around in a little circle, feeling utterly graceless and awkward. I'd never really been comfortable with my body.

But Master seemed to like it. He chuckled softly. "Very nice. Nice little virgin white boy ass. Come."

I flushed, sharply ashamed but tantalizingly excited at how forcefully blunt my Master was. Apparently it showed, because Master laughed.

I shuffled to him timidly. He reached down with a firm, slightly calloused hand and gripped the slave-mound between my legs. I flinched hard. My balls held a month of stored-up slave cum and were achingly tender. He kneaded me briefly, and I felt a surge of desire, with the corresponding tingle in my boy-clit. A low, soft moan escaped me. I wanted to beg Master for the key, for my promised release. But I couldn't quite dare to speak. Something about his presence, his confidence, was just so overwhelming. Master turned me around and groped my ass roughly. "Yes, a very nice little ass. But I can see we've got a lot of work to do in order to get this body into shape." And he smacked my ass, hard. I gasped and jumped at this, and shot Master a hurt little look. Master was making me feel like a piece of meat, like a sexual object, in a way nobody else ever had. It was just so degrading. Part of me loved it. A trapped part.

Master turned me back around and lifted my chin, forcing me to look him in the eye. Again, I felt something in me melt as I sensed his raw will, his ability to dominate.

"It's time for a show of fealty. On your knees, bitch."

Before I could even think about what I was doing, I knelt at Master's feet, still staring into his deep eyes along the way. As I looked up at him, he unzipped and hefted out his cock.

I couldn't believe the size of it. It looked huge. The only penis I had ever seen before outside of a porno movie was mine, which was five inches -- and that was measuring generously. Master's was only semi-hard, but from my position below him on the floor, it already looked bigger than that. And as I looked up at Master's big black dirty cock, I realized with a hot flush of embarrasment that it was growing. Sean was getting turned on as he stared down at me. He was smiling. I could see in his eyes he was considering what to do with me. Stroking his cock to stiffness, Master asked, "Ever seen one of these before, slave? I mean, aside from that pathetic little boy-clit you used to call a cock?"

I couldn't say anything. I was scared now. I had promised Master I'd serve him, and had known intellectually what that would mean. But now I was confronted with the reality of that promise: all ten thick throbbing inches of it. It shocked me. The heterosexual part of me was horrified. Had I really agreed to suck that thing? To take it into my ass? I looked down in shame, unable to face it, and saw my own trapped little dick, could feel it tingling, aching, throbbing with a month of stored unfulfilled lust.

Suddenly Master gripped my hair and pulled, turning my head up to face him, pulling me up so that I was at eye level with his cock. I gasped and cried out in pain and surprise. It looked even bigger head-on: ten inches at least. And thick. He was still stroking it softly.

"Answer me, slut. Have you ever seen a real cock before?"

I winced; he was still tugging roughly at my hair. "Ahh! No!"

With a startlingly quick motion, Sean smacked me roughly across the mouth with his cock. It was surprisingly forceful. It stung my face, and it stung my pride. I had never imagined he would really treat me like this, even if I had fantasized about it. Tears welled in my eyes, and I found I was angry. I looked up at him (as well as I could with him gripping my hair, anyway) and spoke with gritted teeth.

"Let go of me. I made a mistake. Just give me the key to this... thing... and let me get out of here."

Master looked amused. "What was that, slave?"

My anger rose. "Don't call me that!" Was I shouting? I struggled to stand, but Master held me down with a muscular arm. I tried to push it away, but to no avail; he was amazingly strong. "Look, I made a mistake. I thought I could do this, but I can't. I'm..." I hesitated. "I'm not gay, all right?"

Master sighed, and gently relaxed his grip. I stood swiftly, almost losing my balance, and backed away from him a step. Then I scrambled for my clothes, gathering them up in my arms. I looked at Master, who was just staring at me disapprovingly, arms crossed, hard cock still out.

"Look, I'm sorry I wasted your time. I thought I wanted this, but... I can't. I'm sorry. Give me the key and I'll go."

He chuckled. "You can go if you like, but the key?" He shook his head. "Out of the question."

I just gaped at him for a moment; my eyes were still full of tears. "Come on, this isn't funny. I've been in this damned thing for a month, okay? Do you know what that's like? My whole body..." I couldn't finish the sentence. I just stood there naked, shivering for a moment. "I just need the key, okay? I'll never bother you again."

Master was still gently stroking his cock. He still looked serious, but a grin crept onto his lips. "I said no. But I'm merciful. So you made a mistake. If you leave, I'll send you the key in a year. A year with no orgasms will be the price you pay for your mistake." "A year! No way! I'm going INSANE HERE!" Now I really was shouting, yet Sean seemed unshaken. "Give me the key! Please! This isn't funny! I'm a man, and I have rights!"

Master shook his head again, slowly, with infuriating calmness. "No. You aren't a man anymore. And you gave up your rights when you put that thing on. What you are now is a little slave slut." He sighed. "You told me your fantasies, remember? You told me this is what you wanted. Now, I promised you release tonight." I brightened a little at this. "But you made a lot of promises too, slave." His voice grew stern, loud, and harsh. "Well, Go ahead. Be a man like you say you are and walk out of here. You'll pay the price for your 'mistake', but that's what men do: accept responsibility. And you'll be free -- eventually." I was shaking with fear, anger, and -- after all this -- raging sexual excitement. "Or stay and submit. With your heart and with your body. As you promised to do. And after that, I'll grant you the release you want. As I promised to do. But STOP WASTING MY TIME AND MAKE UP YOUR MIND."

I hated him so much in that moment. He seemed to be giving me a choice, but really, there was no choice at all. A year in the tube would kill me or drive me mad. He had trapped me a month ago, and I was still trapped. I dropped my clothes and stood there naked before him again, hanging my head in shame. All I could do was whimper, "...i'll stay."

Master grinned broadly. "Of course you will. But will you submit?" I nodded limply. "Then come here."

I crossed the room to him, slowly, timidly. "Come here, girl! Give your new Daddy a kiss." And he grasped me by the waist and pulled me to him. He held me against him, my naked body against his pinstriped suit, and I was overwhelmed by his presence, his strength, his smell. So masculine, so dominant. The rigid cock pressed against my midsection only strengthened the impression.

There was no point in resisting now. I had already given in. I wrapped my arms around his neck and, after a moment of hesitation, I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him on his stubbled cheek. Then his full lips. He responded, sweeping me up in his arms, pushing his tongue into my mouth. I'd never been kissed like that. Like a woman. And it turned me on, to be there under his power, following his orders, held against his body, so much bigger and stronger than mine. Looking back, that was the true moment I stopped being a man and started being a slave on the road to womanhood.

He kissed me deeply. When it was over, I moaned; my sexual ache had ratcheted up two notches. I couldn't think consciously any more. He lowered me back down to my feet.

"Good girl. But you need to be punished for your disobedience a moment ago. You know that, don't you?"

I nodded, weakly. I was not surprised at this. Master was harsh. "Then come." He took my hand and led me through the suite to the bedroom. The bed was massive, king-size, with huge oak bedposts and a fantastically ornate headboard. He sat down on the edge of it and with firm hands laid me across his knees, gripping my wrists together with his left hand. I went willingly. His cock was still hard, hot and throbbing against my flat, naked stomach.

His right hand was on my ass, stroking, pinching. I was aware of my asshole, exposed to the cool air, tingling and clenching with excitement at his proximity due to my trapped libido. "This is the price of disobedience, slave."

And he spanked me. That first blow was soberingly hard. This wasn't going to be like the playful foreplay-spankings I had gotten from women before. This was discipline. I drew in a sharp breath. Master ran his calloused, firm hand across my cheek, then swatted again. I jerked at the stinging heat, but Master held me firm and struck again. And again. And again. He found a rhythm, alternating from one cheek to the other every few strokes. The heat on my ass began to grow, even between strokes. I gasped out, "Ahh god damn that hurts!"

Master didn't stop, or even slow down. "Complaining, slave?" "No, Ma--AAH! Master! AAWH!"

The blows kept coming. I wished I had counted the strokes. I wondered if Master was counting them. I wanted to be good, to take the punishment like an obedient slave, but he just hit so hard. The aching sting was rapidly becoming unbearable. At first I had been turned on, but as the spanking continued, sexual thought was driven from my mind. My ass felt like it was bruised, then like it was bleeding. I struggled thoughtlessly, desperate to escape, but Master's grip was like iron. I'm not sure how long it went on; less than an hour, probably. Maybe only a few minutes. But it felt like an eternity. I begged and pleaded with him to stop, probably incoherently. The humiliation was bad, but the pain was worse -- especially because I knew it would hurt long after he was done. And the whole time his hard cock was pushing into my belly, proof of how excited he was to train his new slave.

At last, it ended. I was sobbing heavily, unable to catch my breath; tears were streaming down my face. I felt ashamed, but not angry. All I felt was gratitude that Master had finally stopped. Master let go of my wrists, which were sore from struggling, and lowered me to my knees on the floor. Then he stood up in front of me and grabbed me by the hair, as he had done before. But more gently this time.

"Let's try this again." He pulled me firmly up to eye level with his huge cock again. "Have you ever seen one of these before, slut?"

I struggled to catch my breath. I could barely see through my still-flowing tears. The ache in my ass was pulsating fire. "N-n-n-no, Master," I mumbled through hitching sobs.

"You're going to be seeing a lot of this one, slave. I know you're scared of it. Somebody who'd only ever seen a pathetic white boy-clit should be afraid of a REAL cock. But we'll break you of that. You will learn to love it. Now reach up and take hold of it."

I brought my right hand up and timidly wrapped it around the sturdy shaft. It was so hot, so... alive. And so much bigger than mine had been. He was right: I was afraid of it. I had given up my own vastly inferior penis; now the only sex I was going to have was going to be on the receiving end of this monster. I stroked it softly, tentatively.

Master sighed. "Good girl. It won't hurt you -- not yet, anyway. Make friends with it. Play with it."

I gripped it tighter and pumped it. I had to resign myself to this. The decisions had been made, and now I was going to have to learn to pleasure Master's cock. I tried not to think about where this was going. I was catching my breath, although my face was still streaked with tears. "It's just so big, Master. I never... never expected..." Master grinned down at me as I stroked him. "What, slave? Did you think I'd have a limp little white thing like you used to? Mmm.. That's good. Faster."

I obeyed. I tried to remember how I had liked to jerk off, but after a long month, the finer points of technique were hazy. Master seemed to like my style, because he let out a soft groan. I brought my other hand up to his shaft -- God, it was so long, I could wrap both my hands around it with room to spare -- and pumped a little harder. And I realized something: despite the brutal stinging on my bruised, purple ass cheeks, and the tears drying on my face, I was getting turned on again. For all of Master's cruelty, part of me still wanted to be Master's slave. And he'd taken the choice away from me, now, just as I had wanted him to do. I felt my lust rise as I realized that now I was living my fantasy of being a chastized pleasure slave. Master was forcing me to. And I loved him for it.

Then I was kissing him on his shaft, all over it, lifting it to reach the underside and sliding my tongue there. I could smell his sweat, his musk, potent and attractive. I was lapping at his chocolaty scrotum, then taking one ball into my mouth, then the other. I paused and looked up at Master lovingly, and he looked back, the amusement in his eyes evident. I knew what I needed to do. Master stroked my face affectionately. "Good girl... don't stop..." And with that, I closed my eyes and slowly took the head of my Master's cock into my mouth. I was amazed at how wide I had to open my mouth to accept it. I was careful to stretch far so as not to scrape Master with my teeth, both because I wanted to please him, and because I was afraid of what he might do if I scratched him. I licked at his head, running my tongue broadly across it, then tried sucking it. Master let out a soft sigh of pleasure. "Ohhh, yeah. That's it."

I felt a flush of shame as I realized that now I was a cocksucker, but I also felt quivering lust in my imprisoned loins. I didn't want to stop. I tried to relax my throat and take Master deeper into me, feeling his hot meat slide across my tongue. Suddenly I felt it hit the back of my throat. My gag reflex hit, and I backed off, spluttering for a moment. Master chuckled.

"You only got about half of it. Try again. Slowly, girl."

I took him into my mouth again, trying to relax, lowering my head oh-so-slowly onto his length. I grabbed the base of his shaft and pumped it softly, feeling his head throb against my tongue. Master put a firm hand on the back of my head. He didn't push, but he prevented me from moving back. I inched down on it, feeling him push into my throat.

I didn't gag this time, but I still couldn't take all; Master was deep inside me, but there was still enough of his shaft for me to wrap a hand around. I tried to ease off, but Master held me there. I realized I couldn't breathe. My airway was blocked by a thick mouthful of black cock. I looked up at Master imploringly, and he looked back with a smile.

"Not bad for your first time, slut. You sure you never sucked a cock before? Now get to work, girl. Make your Master cum."

And his hand eased off, enough for me to slide back and draw in breath through my nose again. I started bobbing my head on his shaft, slow, wet motions at first, gradually gaining speed. Master groaned with pleasure as I did. I tried to remember how I'd liked my penis sucked, back when I had had one, and that I'd have to please Master if I ever wanted to earn the key to my chastity tube or have another orgasm. I tried to ignore the growing ache in my jaw and my knees, the smoldering fire of my smacked buttocks, the sickeningly strong arousal I couldn't satisfy. I just focused on his cock in my mouth, on sucking him deeper and faster and wetter, on pumping his shaft in rhythm with my sucking, on judging by his groans what he liked and what he didn't.

It seemed to take forever. Over and over, I went too deep and gagged myself, causing me to pause and collect myself. I scratched him with my teeth, once or twice, and Master pulled my hair harshly to let me know he was displeased. My jaw felt sore, my knees felt weak, and my right hand was exhausted from stroking. After what must have been at least twenty minutes of furious sucking, I began to slow from exhaustion. With a groan of exasperation, Master said "I can see we have a lot of work to do." Then he reached down and grabbed my hair with both fists and began fucking my face. I was instantly ashamed -- I had failed even at cocksucking. Master thrust into my mouth, over and over, quick and shallow, faster and faster. At last he shuddered and let out a noise of pleasure that was almost a roar. I felt his cock throbbing in my mouth for a moment before my mouth flooded with an enormous load of hot cum.

The taste was bad -- hot, salty, sour -- but not as bad as I had imagined. The amount was worse. It shot down my throat and coated my tongue. It seemed like Master continued to pump it for almost a minute. Some of his jizz leaked out of my full mouth and dribbled down my chin.

I didn't dare swallow. For the first time, I thought about disease: I had agreed -- begged -- to be Master's cum receptacle, and now I was. It was a little late for a condom.

Master pulled out of me with a contented sigh, softening, sated. I, of course, was still as horny and frustrated as ever, with nothing to show for it but a mouthful of cum that I didn't have the courage to spit or swallow. Master was amused.

"You like the taste of it that much, girl?" He reached down and pushed the runaway strand of cum up, rubbed it across my lips. "You need practice, a lot of practice, but you're definitely a natural. Now swallow it."