Slave Master

After what seemed like an eternity but must have been two minutes or so, Tom rolled onto his back once more without waking. With infinite care Stephen lowered himself into the bed and drew the covers up to his neck so he was hidden from Tom's eyes. Even then he couldn't relax for a long time.

Finally Stephen convinced himself that his bedmate rested undisturbed. He reached down to caress his penis through the satin material. Even though Stephen had deliberately chosen the babydoll to make it easy to uncover his dick, this time he didn't bring the organ out while he massaged himself to orgasm, instead deliberately cumming inside the lingerie.

Stephen breathed a sigh of relief after he finished. Now he could finally rest.

[]

Stephen's success inaugurated a new routine for him. He continued to have his normal massage at bedtime, but about one night out of three he would rise in darkness and go to the cabinet, returning to bed wearing lingerie. Stephen didn't always rub one out afterward, just wearing a frilly garment was sometimes enough to let him sleep soundly.

Stephen stopped asking for middle of the night massages, and Tom quickly picked up that his master now invariably stayed in bed with the covers pulled up till after Tom left in the morning. But he didn't ask if Stephen wanted him to continue to stay in his bed overnight. Stephen truly had no idea what Tom thought of these developments, and suspected Tom would make a great poker player. He was a man of few words and didn't show much of anything on his face.

Stephen got further evidence of this not long after. One night as Stephen was turning in front of the mirror, trying to make out what he looked like wearing a black merry widow despite the dim light, he thought he noticed the gleam of eyes from the bed. Stephen's hands instinctively reached up to cover his body as he turned to look, and he was almost sure he saw the movement of Tom's head dropping back to the pillow. It was hard to know how much Tom could have seen, but Stephen had deliberately chosen the merry widow because of the contrast it provided to his pale flesh in order to try to look at himself in the mirror. At minimum Tom must know his master had gotten up in the middle of the night and put on some article of dark clothing.

Stephen felt petrified. He wondered if he should say something about it to Tom, offer some sort of preemptive excuse, but he couldn't think of anything plausible. Next he waited to see if Tom would do anything more, but nothing happened. When Stephen worked up the nerve to approach the bed he saw that Tom was silent and motionless, acting like he'd never woken at all. Even when Stephen got back into bed Tom continued to lie as if dead to the world, his breath deep and even, no matter how long Stephen watched him.

The next morning Tom rose from the bed and said, "Good morning, master" as if absolutely nothing out of the ordinary had happened during the night.

[]

The thought that Tom knew what Stephen did in the middle of the night was disturbing, but it also excited Stephen. On the nights that followed Stephen began deliberately posing for long periods after putting lingerie on. He told himself it was to try and get a better look in the mirror, but at the same time he wondered if Tom might be watching. Stephen didn't know for certain because he never caught Tom at it again, and Tom never gave any indication that he'd seen anything. The uncertainty allowed Stephen to assure himself that he was safe and at the same time feel he was at risk. The tension between the two opposite poles was exquisite.

But as this went on Stephen once again began to become frustrated. Now it was because he wanted Tom to see. He wanted to make Tom acknowledge that he was looking at Stephen.

Stephen knew his feelings on the matter were irrational and a complete reversal of his previous attitude of preserving secrecy at all costs, but this didn't terribly bother him. Everything about his urge to dress up had always been irrational, perverted, and unwise. Stephen felt his behavior in this was how the female mind must work (based on his own experiences with women), a sort of feminine derangement that men found maddening and attractive in equal measure. To Stephen, wanting to act in a way that was nonsensical and impetuous felt like he was acting the way a woman would act, to match his desire to dress like one.

So it didn't surprise Stephen when he realized he'd spontaneously come to the decision to do something about the current lack of clarity. He intended to push at Tom to see what would happen.

That night Stephen put on the lacy red boyshorts that were the first thing he'd ever worn to bed with Tom. He slipped back under the covers and drew a deep breath to calm his nerves.

"Tom?" Stephen voice quavered, he cleared his throat and tried again. "Tom."

Tom reached out, turned up the lamp, looked at you. "Yes, master?"

There's a long pause. It was Stephen's last chance to turn back, and he almost did. But he knew doing so would only put things off rather than resolving them. "Tom, I believe I'd like a massage."

"Of course, master." Tom rose from the bed and took the oil from the nightstand. Stephen made no move to help, forcing Tom to pull down the sheet and blanket from Stephen's body. Stephen watched Tom's face as his eyes took in the panties Stephen was wearing, but there was no change in expression.

"Should I get a towel to cover you, master?"

"No, this will be all right," Stephen said, his voice a little hoarse. He closed his eyes.

Tom's oiled hands began running up and down Stephen's arms, lightly tweaking and rubbing the underlying muscles. He went on to massage Stephen's chest and thighs and calves. Stephen forced himself to breath evenly. It was identical to every other massage Tom had given him since he'd learned what his master liked, but this time Stephen was wearing panties in front of the masseur. Despite Stephen's attempt to relax and let his mind go blank he couldn't help imagining Tom staring at him, to visualize what the other man was seeing. Stephen's penis began to swell.

When he reached what is normally the end of the frontal massage, Tom paused. "Do you wish me to go further on your... front part, master?"

It took Stephen a moment to realize what the other man was asking. When he did Stephen blushed red. "I'll turn over," Stephen muttered, and did so.

Tom's strong hands moved over Stephen's arms and back before skipping over the parts covered by the boyshorts to continue down Stephen's thighs. Stephen's cock was fully rigid now, he was trying to suppress little moans and only being partially successful. Stephen felt ashamed and terribly aroused.

Tom began working his way back up Stephen's legs, but for the first time ever he didn't pause at the upper thighs and ask for permission to proceed with the gluteal muscles. Instead his hands glided without stopping onto Stephen's lower buttocks, right over the panties, pressing the silk lace into the soft flesh underneath. Now Stephen did groan aloud while involuntarily grinding his cock down into the mattress.

Tom worked Stephen's bottom, pressing and flattening the cheeks. The motions pulled the silk tight against Stephen's cock and balls and made the material slide in and out of his rear cleft. It was too much, Stephen couldn't resist reaching under himself to find his hard penis and rub it through the boyshorts. Very quickly after that Stephen's whole body tightened as he spewed cum into his panties.

When Stephen's shuddering and moaning stopped Tom removed his hands. "Should I bring you a towel now, master?"

Stephen caught his breath. "Yes, please."

Stephen watched as Tom got off the bed and walked off to the bathroom, returning with both a towel and a wet washcloth. "And do you wish me to wash you off, master?"

"No, no, you've done quite enough, Tom," Stephen stammered. "You... you go back to sleep, I'll do this part myself."

Tom's eyes showed nothing. "As you wish, master."

[]

Naturally Stephen worried later about what he'd done. His life-long secret was no longer secret. More than that, he'd been brought to orgasm by the person who now knew.

But Tom was so matter-of-fact about the whole affair that worrying about it seemed silly. Especially as afterward he showed no external sign that anything at all had changed. His demeanor and behavior toward Stephen was the same as before.

To some extent Stephen found that a bit frustrating. Tom now knew the darkest, most perverted and private thing about his master, something Stephen had hidden from everyone else for his entire life. Yet the masseur acted like it didn't matter. Stephen had always held the notion that if he ever once let his guard slip for an instant his whole life would change and he'd be ruined forever. Now what he'd dreaded for so long has finally occurred, and nothing happened!

Stephen's irritation at this though is minor compared to his sense of relief, and freedom. He had finally admitted what he thought of as the worst thing about himself to someone, and they didn't seem to mind or condemn him. That was definitely liberating.

[]

Now that Tom knew about the lingerie Stephen felt there was no sense hiding it from him any longer. If he felt like putting on lingerie before bed, he did. Though of course Stephen didn't want to get massage oil on his good lingerie all the time (he was still washing it himself in the sink; Tom knowing about it was one thing, but that didn't mean Stephen wanted the entire household to find out) so normally Stephen picked out a set before Tom arrived and changed into it after the massage was over.

Stephen did change in the bathroom. It still seemed a bit too bold and embarrassing to don women's clothing in front of another man.

(Stephen noticed that when he walked out after donning a cute teddy or a panties and bra set he tended to mince and swing his hips rather more that he did if he was in his bathrobe. That realization also felt a bit embarrassing, but Stephen had started doing it unconsciously and now felt that he can't stop without it looking like he's concerned about Tom watching him. And if Tom realized Stephen is thinking about being watched, it might seem like Stephen wanted him to look. It was quite the conundrum.)

Stephen still woke during the night at times, and when he did he usually found himself opening his eyes to stare at Tom's shadowy form where it lay on the other side of the bed, listening to the soft noises Tom made as he slept. After what had happened the last time Stephen was afraid to ask Tom to wake up for a massage, but at the same time after what he'd experienced Stephen thought that furtively bringing himself off wasn't all that interesting.

After quite a few nights spent caught in that fork, early one morning Stephen finally swallowed his pride and woke Tom to ask for a second massage. Once again the masseur offered to "go further" and Stephen refused. And once again Tom's hands drove Stephen's passion spiraling up until he was so excited that grinding himself into the sheets underneath wasn't enough, he had to take matters in hand and rub his erection till he spewed cum into his panties.

[]

Stephen discovered that his attitude toward Tom was changing. When the masseur first arrived he thought of Tom as a polite young man, a bit stiff and formal though Stephen supposed that might be nerves from joining a household for the first time after school. Now however Stephen realized that Tom's formality did not hide fear but strength. Tom was impassive because he was confident in his own ability to handle the situation he was in. Tom had the kind of calm competence and reserved but active mindfulness that Stephen associated with certain older execs, like his father, but rarely saw in his peers. Certainly these were not qualities Stephen himself possessed. This was something both his ex-wives pointed out to him long before the divorces. They both averred that Stephen fretted and worried about silly things while remaining completely oblivious to what was truly important. (Or at least, what had been important to his wives.)

Stephen supposed that was why he found Tom so attractive. Not in a sexual sense, of course. It was more that Tom possessed a sort of magnetism. Stephen couldn't seem to stop watching Tom when he was present, and lately couldn't stop thinking about him when Tom wasn't. All right, perhaps it was sexual in a way, but in an abstract sense. Stephen wished he was the sort of man Tom was, because he was now completely certain Tom was the sort of man women found irresistible. Not for his looks but for the confident, manly aura he naturally exuded.

Stephen found himself trying to engage Tom in conversation before the evening massages. But he'd never been a great conversationalist and Tom wasn't a chatterer, so that attempt died rather quickly. It's not as if the two of them had that much in common anyway, if you came right down to it.

This line of thought led Stephen back to depressing speculation about what Tom thought of him. Of a high exec who liked to wear women's clothes to bed and didn't even have the backbone to order his slave to give him a simple handjob, not even when the slave as much as offered. He must see Stephen as someone who preferred to mash his silly penis into the mattress till he came, like some sort of fool. No, like a useless, stupid sissy and a whore.

This was what that savage old bitch Janet had called Stephen when she'd caught him wearing Sonia's things. It was many years ago but Stephen could still hear the words in his head, the words she'd continued to yell as the hard plastic spatula she used to spank his cowering form came down. Silly, useless, stupid, pathetic, sissy, worthless, perverted. Whore.

If only the words weren't true.

[]

Stephen started having dreams, dreams like the ones he used to have once upon a time. Dreams of being a girl, or not a girl but dressed like one. Dreams of being with a man, a man who wanted him, who touched him, took him. The man in Stephen's dreams changed all the time. Sometimes old school friends, sometimes Stephen's peers at the club or his underlings at work. Sometimes Tom, but of course that was natural since Stephen thought about him so often.

Stephen's father also appeared in the dreams. That has happened many times since he died, but in the past he always seemed disappointed or disapproving of Stephen in his dreams. Sometimes in the new ones he still was, but other times he was the man with Stephen.

[]

Stephen hadn't reached satisfaction for days. Some nights when he considered dressing up he decided it was too embarrassing to once more demonstrate to Tom what a fool he was. On nights when he did dress up he was usually too ashamed to ask for a second massage and too unsettled and uncertain to masturbate. Stephen's recent dreams have been intense and at times he actually reaches what feels like a faint, shadowy orgasm in them, but it wasn't a real release. He kept waking after the dreams to stare at Tom, his penis rigid and aching.

Stephen wanted something more. He knew what it must be, and knew he was afraid to admit to himself that he wanted it.

[]

Stephen is at work wearing lingerie and nothing else and one of his minor subordinates (a supervisor from the Counting House, a man whose name he can't even recall) comes up to him, takes him by the hand and leads Stephen to his office. The man presents Stephen with his cock. In the dream Stephen doesn't even hesitate, he takes the organ in his hand and kneels to suck it.

Stephen opened his eyes in the dim bedroom. The dream itself had already started to fade but the feelings he had in it are no less intense now that he was awake. It was too much, he knew it couldn't go on.

"Tom?" Stephen whispered.

He didn't respond. Hesitantly Stephen reached out and touched him on the shoulder. "Tom."

Tom roused and reached for the lamp on the nightstand, but Stephen put and hand on his arm and gently stopped the movement. "No, Tom. Don't."

"Master?"

"Don't turn on the lamp," Stephen said quietly.

Tom turned toward him in the bed. In the darkness Stephen could see very little of his face beyond the gleam of his eyes. "Why not, master?"

"If the lights are out I don't have to be your master."

Stephen wasn't sure where that thought came from. But as he said it, it seemed right to him.

Tom's reply was neutral, expressing nothing beyond mild doubt. "Most would think that you remain master no matter whether lights are on or not. Unless it is the master's will that it should be otherwise."

Stephen swallowed against a dry throat. "While the lights are out I am not your master, Tom. I don't want to be your master tonight."

Tom's voice was still calm, neither inviting nor forbidding. "Then what is it you do want?"

Stephen didn't reply with words. Instead he shifted closer to the other man on the bed, to where it was easier to touch reach him. Stephen's hands moved under the covers, reaching for Tom's arms, his chest, his flanks.

Tom was silent as this time Stephen ran his hands over Tom's body, the opposite of their usual arrangement where it was always Tom's hands on Stephen. The masseur was toned and muscular, unlike Stephen who never spent as much time in the gym as his physician said he should. In places where Stephen's body was soft and padded, Tom's was firm and his lines well-defined.

Stephen pulled the sheets off Tom's body and moved near to better explore. Broad shoulders, long blunt fingers, narrow waist. Stephen brought his head even closer and found Tom's skin smelled clean and a little spicy, very male. The smell made Stephen want to taste, so he pressed a gentle kiss under Tom's collarbone, using both lips and tongue.

Tom did not react to any of this. But it didn't matter, Stephen was lost in another world, the world of the other man's body. Stephen kissed his way down Tom's torso, his hands still roaming. When Stephen reached the tied waistband of the loincloth his fingers anxiously tugged and pulled until he'd unwrapped it.

In the dimness Stephen saw Tom's cock, thicker and longer than his own (just as he'd imagined, and dreamed). It was swelling but not yet erect. Stephen bent down to taste it, a little lick against the crown. It was salty and musky. Stephen licked again to confirm the flavor and the organ twitched in response.

Stephen hadn't done this sort of thing since a few drunken experiments back in university, but he was too eager now to stop. He opened his lips and took the fat crown into his mouth.

Tom's dick grew rapidly once he was enveloped by Stephen's lips and tongue, swelling so fast and so much that Stephen couldn't keep up and had to release him. Stephen held the penis in his hands, licking up and down the shaft as Tom reached his full size. He had to revise his earlier estimate of how much bigger Tom's dick was than his own, it was a very impressive organ indeed. Stephen didn't think he'd be able to fit the whole length in his mouth. He tried anyway, sliding his lips over the warm, rigid pole till the head rested on the back of his tongue. Stephen let it sit there for a moment, savoring the hardness and the way it throbbed. Then he reversed the process until only the crown was still trapped by Stephen's lips, before sinking down onto it once again.

Tom remained passive, neither opposing nor encouraging Stephen's actions. Stephen briefly wished Tom would touch him, or at least acknowledge what he was doing. Then he pushed that thought away, knowing that if he thought about what he was doing too much he would start feeling ashamed. Instead Stephen concentrated on the male flesh in his mouth and hands, working it more vigorously. That did draw a response from Tom in the form of a sharp intake of breath, and shorter, more rapid breaths thereafter. Tom then reached down and started caressing Stephen's back through the pink nightgown he wore. The feeling of being touched through the satin further excited Stephen and made him suck cock even more eagerly.