He is Your Master Now Pt. 11

"Ambrose! Snap out of whatever's happening to you and hand me back the phone."

Manuel gave Ambrose a gently reassuring body squeeze and briefly rubbed his back. Ambrose stared blankly up at Manuel and nearly melted when he looked into the larger man's eyes. He suddenly realized that even while Manuel made him uncomfortable, he also made him feel safe.

He remembered what Pippi once explained to him about fantasies versus reality by using rape fantasies as an example.

"Just because a woman has a rape fantasy doesn't mean she wants to be raped. In the real world, rape, if anything, takes one's control over their own bodies away from them. In a fantasy, no matter how brutal the rape scenario, the woman still has total control of how the fantasy plays out. She chooses the time, the setting, the circumstances, the rapist and even the level of the rapist' cruelty."

Clearly, letting Manuel fuck him would not be rape of course, but the problematic distinctions between fantasy vs reality still applied in that letting Manuel fuck him in real life would be a plunge into an abyss that might break him, no matter how sensuous, gentle and loving it might be.

Pippi walked over and grabbed the phone. "OK, it's almost time for Ambrose to go to bed."

"It certainly isn't because she needs her beauty sleep, she already looks like she slept for an entire month."

Ambrose flushed red.

"Aww look at her," Manuel teased. "That got to her. I can feel that smile getting closer and closer."

"Perhaps you should do the gentlemanly thing and walk Ambrose to his door," Pippi suggested.

Ambrose nearly lost himself in the cosmos.

"Nope. I don't think that would be right just yet."

Ambrose was flung back from the stars, he could hardly believe his luck, or was it misfortune?

Manuel rubbed his back and looked at Pippi. "Let's let Miss Amanda come around on her own terms. If it isn't meant to be, well then it isn't meant to be, and I'll just move on--- broken hearted of course."

He smiled down at Ambrose again.

Ambrose wanted to take his hand and lead him to his bedroom, but he just couldn't bridge that gap, though he could feel it narrowing.

Manuel let him go and shook Pippi's hand. He then extended a hand to Ambrose but as their hands touched, he laid Ambrose hand over his own heart and held it there with both of his own.

"Miss Amanda, it would sure mean a lot to me if I could give you a simple peck on the cheek."

Ambrose wasn't sure if he could feel the beating of Manuel's heart or his own heartbeat with Manuel's chest acting as a sounding board.

He wanted that kiss and more.

An impossibly long time passed.

In a low tone, Manuel said, "I'm going to assume your silence is a yes." As he bent down to kiss Ambrose cheek, Ambrose couldn't help but instinctively turn his cheek toward him as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

The peck lasted just long enough for Ambrose to feel Manuel's five O'clock shadow. The roughness of the short stubby whiskers against his soft face lent a visceral feel to the act that made it seem more real. When Manuel let go of Ambrose' hand, Ambrose let it linger on his chest. Manuel gently grabbed it and placed by Ambrose' side as if he couldn't do it for himself.

"Well--- you two fine ladies have a great night and I'll see you tomorrow at eight am." He winked at Ambrose before leaving.

When he was gone, Pippi turned to him. "Shit Ambrose. I practically handed him to you on a silver platter. What are you waiting for?"

He had no answer to her question. With a start, he realized that Pippi had not been tormenting him during dinner, she had been acting as a sort of female best friend trying to help him get laid, which could only mean she knew with a certainty, what he was feeling.

"He's crazy about you and I could tell when you had your hand on his heart, you were lost somewhere."

So what was his problem? was the unspoken question.

"I think I know what the problem is and that's a real shame. But that's something you'll have to work out on your own. And you better make a decision one way or another very soon because starting tomorrow, Manuel is taking on an expanded role in Carcosa. And in case you don't understand, that means he's going to be around more--- in the mansion--- where you two are likely to run into each other. You'll either have to put your foot down and tell him you're not interested or--- do something else. It's not fair to him to keep his hopes up.

"It's just as well that nothing happened tonight between you two because you'll be sleeping in the master bedroom tonight."

"I will?"

"It's normal for someone's 're-birthday'. But first, go back to your room, strip naked and meet me back here."

When they entered the master bedroom straight from the kitchen Ambrose saw that the Masked Man was there and lying naked on the bed.

"I don't think I can take that thing in me," said Ambrose referring to the Masked Man's horse sized penis. He was genuinely worried.

"You'll just be sleeping with him tonight. Literally sleeping. Now, he hardly ever speaks so it won't do you much good to talk to him."

Pippi kissed him goodnight.

"You're leaving now? Don't you need to introduce me or anything?"

"Ambrose, you sucked that man's cock, drank his cum, and then you licked the excess of Cassilda's foot and then you licked the sticky remnants off the floor. I'd call that a hell of an introduction. Goodnight."

"But he pushed me away after he came. It's obvious he sees me as a plaything, why would he just want to sleep with me and nothing else?"

"Ambrose," said Pippi exasperated, "Just do it." She left the room.

Ambrose moved tentatively toward the bed.

By his estimation, the Masked Man was even taller than Manuel and now that he was fully naked, he could see that the man was brutishly muscular, like the proverbial gladiator who killed effortlessly and without mercy. Even flaccid, his cock was monstrous.

Why was he still wearing a mask? Was he going to wear it all night? When Ambrose got closer, he could better see the bolts that held the mask in place and traces of dried dark blood at their bases, He recoiled at the sight.

The Masked Man moved a heavily muscled arm and patted beside him on the bed.

Ambrose swallowed hard, hopped up on the bed and crawled across the massive expanse to awkwardly slip in beside the man. He was so nervous that he lay like a corpse with his arms at his side.

The man turned away from him and hit some controller that that turned out the lights. He then threw a blanket over the lower parts of their bodies.

Ambrose jolted in surprise as the man slipped an arm under him and drew him close. With his other arm, he reached across, grabbed Ambrose' arm and placed it across his muscular chest. Apparently, it was going to be a thing for men to want him to feel their heartbeat.

So this was how he was going to sleep tonight. In the protective arms of some massive freak who could easily snap him in half. There was even the possibility that he could be crushed if the man rolled onto him while sleeping.

With the same arm he slipped under Ambrose, the man cradled Ambrose head against his chest and promptly fell asleep.

Ambrose had never actually slept with a woman in the literal sense, so this was his first time sleeping with a lover--- if he could even be called that. Every square inch of the man seemed hard and he was very warm.

Once again, he felt the dual stick and carrot emotions of shame and desire. One caused him to recoil and the other called him back with its irresistibleness.

He positioned his leg across the man's leg and could feel part of the man's penis on it. He fell asleep with his little erection pressed against the man's hard body.

Sometime during the night though, the man roused Ambrose from sleep and turned on the lights. He wondered what was wrong, but as his grogginess dissipated when he could see that Cassilda had entered the room. He could also see that the man had an erection.

Ambrose' heart fluttered as Cassilda climbed on the bed and began stroking Ambrose' cheek.

"Tonight was the first time I've ever been proud of you, little one."

Ambrose heart soared in a jumble of mixed emotions. He was elated that he had done good. But he wasn't quite sure where her pride in him came into effect. Her pride also had the feel of parent who had earlier watched her child kill it at a piano recital.

As if to verify this feeling Cassilda said. "Mommy has needs. Needs you could never satisfy; I need you to be little patient while I see to those needs."

The joy he felt at her pride in him now competed with the old sense of inadequacy that had always haunted him. And yet, now that he knew about himself, he again became aroused. He questioned his own feelings: "Does this really make me horny," he thought, "or have I been conditioned to believe that?"

He decided it didn't matter. An erection was self-evidently pleasurable and a response to stimuli. What should he care if what stimulated him now, once plagued him with a near ceaseless sense of worthlessness?

"Ambrose," Cassilda addressed him, "when I sucked you off, it was like twiddling half hot dog in my mouth."

She angled the white whale downward and put the tip in her mouth. Ambrose heard a loud snap and watched in horror and fascination as Cassilda's lower jaw unhinged and separated from her upper jaw like those of a snake.

She crawled slowly towards the Masked Man's scrotum, swallowing inch after inch of his cock; her lips alternatingly pulled back from her teeth and then closed around his cock. The effect was such that she appeared to be pulling herself along by her lips and teeth.

She held the man's cock deep in her throat far longer than Ambrose could ever deep throat a dildo and made loud throat noises. Ambrose had no doubt that she was somehow massaging the cock by some means. When she finally pulled it out, a long, thick trail of thick saliva connected her lower lip to the cockhead and dislodged when her jaws reconnected with a loud snap. This display of serpentine sensuality fascinated Ambrose so much, that he almost hadn't noticed that Cassilda had not gasped for breath, she merely resumed breathing normally. He could only stare at her in awe.

She spoke to the Masked Man in a strange sounding foreign accent whereupon the man stood on the bed facing the wall behind the headboard. She then laid near it on her back.

"Ambrose, sit on your knees next to me."

When Ambrose did as she asked, she grabbed his hand and placed it on her throat. She spoke again to the Masked Man in the strange language and once more dislocated her jaws.

It appeared as if the Masked Man was about to sit on her face, but he instead lowered his cock into her mouth until his massive testicles rested over her chin and on Ambrose' hand.

Ambrose could feel Cassilda's throat expand beyond what he would have thought possible to accommodate the massive member. He erupted in goosebumps as he felt the passage of the massive cockhead within her throat as it slid deeper into her.

He jerked his hand away in mesmerized surprise and saw that the skin of her neck was stretched so taught that it almost appeared translucent.

She smacked the Masked Man's ass causing him to withdraw his penis which trailed more tendrils of throat Cassilda's phlegm.

"Can you see now Ambrose, that for me, it's not just what a real man can do for me but also what I can do for a real man? I mean, you're not equipped to fully appreciate everything I have to offer."

Ambrose was speechless. What was there to say. She was right and he simultaneously hated that basic truth and reveled in it. He wanted to prove to her that she was right, that he was a meaningless nothing that his only ambition in life was to be used for the pleasure of others. And if he could derive some sexual relief in the process, well that would certainly be nice, but it was not necessary.

On impulse, he slurped up the dangling trailings of her throat mucus and saliva from the Masked Man's cock.

"My pride in you just deepened a little more." She sat up and planted a passionate kiss on him.

After she spoke again to the Masked Man, he positioned himself to penetrate her.

"I want you to lay your head on my belly Ambrose, but face toward my face."

Ambrose knew what he was about to feel but when the moment arrived, when she raised her hips to accommodate the Masked Man and opened her legs just a little wider and he plunged into her quickly and with grate force, he was wholly unprepared for it.

It's true that the penis was vast in size, but it felt more substantial than it should have as it rhythmically distended Cassilda's abdomen in the wake of each thrust. Ambrose' own head actually moved with those movements.

"When the precursor to man first tried to understand the world around him, after times of great starvation he became so much more keenly aware that the feeling of being well sated resided in the gut; the belly, that he imagined it as the seat of the soul."

Really? A lecture at this moment? It was an indication of how commonplace this all was to her.

"Of course by that time man had long been aware that human life gestated in the abdomen and with each birth, the umbilical cord proved this notion to them as it was the means by which a developing child received their first nourishment not through their mouths, and through the connecting bridge to the mother."

While Ambrose remained fascinated by the fact that he could feel the Masked Man's cock beneath the surface of Cassilda's belly, he paid attention to her words fearing that he may miss some meaning of great portent.

"But ancient man--- in fact modern man of just a few decades ago actually, didn't know that the digestive system is a complex ecosystem that supports life in the form of trillions of tiny microbes. That means that even men, are hosts to life. And if you keep this in mind when you finally fulfill your true role in life, you will feel as complete to being a woman as you ever will as your gut consumes the potent nourishment that issues from virile mighty men. You'll always be a little sister to women everywhere.

"Close your eyes Ambrose."

When he complied, she pressed his head more firmly against her by pushing against his exposed ear.

He could hear the beating of his own heart and hers as well as the rumble of the great white worm plunging into her as it sought to find release.

After what seemed like an eternity, she spoke again to the Masked Man in that strange language.

The Masked Man breathed hard and stopped all movement except for the convulsions that now seized him. Ambrose actually felt the spasming of the beast withing Cassilda's belly. Surely, he must be unleashing a torrent of semen into her. Ambrose' own imagination supplied the sound of a brook running over a small rocky ravine.

When he was done, the Masked Man pulled away from Cassilda and sat on the edge of the bed. Cassilda took her hand off Ambrose' ear, grabbed his hair and pushed his head towards her pussy which was now overflowing with cum.

"Feed Ambrose, feed."

The natural smell of her cunt always worked some strange magic on Ambrose, the Masked Man's cum now amplified that magic feeling. He greedily lapped up all that he could.

The vague whiff of death that he once experienced was back just a tiny bit stronger. It intensified his feeding frenzy. His ejaculation was the strongest it had been in months.

When he was done, he looked up at Cassilda; his tears mingling with remnants of her juices and the Masked Man's cum.

"I adore you." Was all he could say.

"As a flea adores the flesh of the dog it feeds on."

Though he was spent sexually, Cassilda's response made him love her even more. He planted little, loving kisses all over and around her pussy.

When they all went to sleep, Cassilda had taken Ambrose's place in the Masked Man's arms while Ambrose slept curled up at the foot of the bed, with no pillow, like the family dog.