SubConscious Ch. 02

Chapter 2

"I should--" she almost laughed. Almost put the drink down and wordlessly left. Instead she raised the drink and finished the bourbon in two swallows. He'd actually asked her-- no proposed, almost told her-- to become his sex slave. Raised eyebrows and raised glass got him building a second cocktail. "What would it involve?"

"Sex." He handed her a second drink. "You will give me whatever sexual pleasure I desire. Allow me to enjoy your body in any way I like. Use your powerful and creative mind to further extend and increase the pleasure you can give me. Place yourself totally under my control in all sexual matters."

Wow. He really meant it. She had to lean against the counter. That trembling had increased and her scalp seemed to be levitating off her skull. "And," she managed, "And what do I get out of this arrangement?" That was the scientist asking, ready to reject any compensation-- undying love, money, a trip somewhere exotic.

"You give yourself to me freely and without limit. You ask for and you receive nothing-- except the satisfaction of giving yourself wholly, creatively, fully as a woman, to a man." That shut up the scientist. An equation needed two sides.

She used the drink, hiding behind glass, to give herself time. She felt woozy, not from the alcohol. A part of her, a growing part of her, wanted to say yes. Alarms went off in the back of her head. She didn't care. She wanted this even though she didn't know what this was. Maybe because she didn't know. She could see the satisfaction he predicted as if it were a new sun about to rise, and she also remembered the powerful energy that had flowed through her when his flesh had touched her lips. She finished the second drink and put down the glass. His posture, his smile, like a man who'd just acquired a new-- was she an object to him? a conquest? a thoroughbred horse or a supercar? She didn't know what she was to him, just that he knew she wanted to be his.

"Come with me."

She followed him into the large living area. She stood in the middle of the room, waiting for him to direct her. He sat down on the big couch and pointed to a spot in front of him. She went there and waited.

"Say it."

She didn't know what he wanted her to say, but she didn't want to disappoint him by asking. Of course she knew, that growing part of her told her. The other parts of her were silent, like silent rooms in her home after guests had left. Guests no longer welcome. While the Nice Girl peeked in a window.

"I offer myself to you as your slave."

"Sex slave. I'm not interested in having you do my laundry."

"As your--" Of course he would want the full pledge. This was an important moment, like that first text or the moment she'd decided to abandon all caution and tell him her fantasy. The thought caused her eyes to move to his crotch again. The zipper was still down, inviting. "I offer myself to you as your sex slave." He nodded, but it seemed her pledge was not yet complete. "I will willingly perform any service-- sex-- sexual service-- you require, and will allow you to use my body-- or, or any other part of me, as you wish. Sir."

Sir? Why had she called him that? And what other part of her was there besides her body? She felt stupid, a novel and unpleasant feeling.

He gave the slightest nod. "Remove your top."

She looked down, as if surprised to discover she was wearing a top. She already felt naked in front of him. She pulled it off over her head and tossed it to the end of the couch.

"Your bra."

She reached back to unclip it, held the loose undergarment to her breasts for a moment. It was a Nice Girl reflex, not wanting to show her nipples to him, especially as erect as they felt. Her hands squeezed her breasts, forcing her flesh up over the edge of the bra. She was proud of her breasts, creamy white, large enough to be a handful but without a trace of sag. Her girlfriends once had had a debate over what part of her was most beautiful. Face: movie star class; legs: they recommended she become a leg model, which paid way more than a university position; hair: wavy butterscotch they all envied. But they all agreed her breasts were the paradigm of female perfection. One of them even showed her Venus's breasts, the statue in the Louvre. Her previous boyfriend, a self-proclaimed "tit man", had loved to-- but that was all history. She tossed the bra to the floor and took a step closer to him, between his legs, now open.

"Kneel."

On her knees she reached for his belt, barely re-buckled, but held back, putting her hands instead on his thighs.

"You can say whatever you want. It will please me if you tell me your feelings as I enjoy you."

"I--I want to continue." Her hands went to his crotch. He was still hard underneath his pants. No nod.

"Continue what? Say it."

"I want to do what I did--" She knew he wouldn't be satisfied with that. "I want to--" She had trouble saying it. Science Girl came to the rescue. "To perform fellatio on you." Relief washed over her, having let her desire out. She watched for his nod, eager to obey him and let her hands do what they wanted.

But he didn't. "Then ask."

Of course. "Please, Sir, may I pleasure you?" The words escaped before her conscious mind had time to stop them. Sir again? Who was making her say these things? She felt as if she were falling from space-- and was glad she was not still on her feet or she might have keeled over-- falling way down to a planet, an unexplored planet with unknown dangers. But a beautiful planet, a paradise perhaps. The nod, finally. Her hands opened his pants and reached in. One hand cupped his balls, the other took his stalk, her lips went to the tip.

"Stop."

The single word was shocking. Neither boyfriend had ever told her to stop sucking him. Her lips wouldn't leave the touch of his tip. He had to gently guide her head back. "Remove my pants."

She quickly did that and returned her hands to where they'd been holding him, his cock inches from her face. His genitals filled her vision and she wanted desperately to take him into her mouth. But she knew she had to wait. After several agonizing seconds without a command from him she looked up. How was he able to resist her, seeing how totally willing she was?

"You have very pretty lips."

"Thank you, my Lord." She wanted to say more. Lord? She still hadn't got used to Sir.

"Tell me what you are feeling. You are a free woman freely offering yourself to a man. You can say anything you feel you need to. Don't worry. Nothing will change your position as my sex slave."

"Do-- does-- I mean--"

"Just let it out raw."

"My lord. May I call you that?"

"It is a natural expression of your feelings. Of course."

She smiled and brought her lips, happy he had praised them, as close as she could to his tip without touching. She knew she shouldn't until commanded. And-- a tingle ran up her spine with the realization-- she wanted him to command her. It was a special, new, incomparably sweet pleasure to obey him.

"Kiss my cock."

She eagerly obeyed. So soft and warm, yet hard underneath, that was her instant perception. Her lips went all over, the ridge around the base of the helmet, the flat underneath where he jumped slightly as her lips slid back and forth. That tingle became a torrent of erotic energy. She separated her lips a little and touched that spot with the tip of her tongue. Another little jump.

"Yes," he said. "Use your tongue."

Her tongue went to his tiny hole and wriggled. His hips wiggled in turn and his legs briefly squeezed her head. A wonderful sense of power filled her. Her tongue tip stroked that flat, extremely sensitive area underneath, up and back, hole, flat, hole, flat. His hips rose off the couch and she was sure he was about to come. The vision of his white seed spurting onto her tongue forced a little squeal out of her and her lips slid down to take his cockhead in.

He pushed her back. Off his cock, she looked up and saw that her handiwork had him breathing hard. His eyes gleamed.

"Does your sex slave please you, my Lord?" That new part of her, Slavegirl, had fully appeared and taken over and she was supremely happy. Whoever she was.

"Very much.

She licked him, making him twitch slightly. She was thoroughly enjoying herself, reveling in a profound pleasure she'd never imagined fellatio could give her. He seemed to have amazing control. "Would my Lord enjoy coming in his new sex slave's mouth?" Another first. She'd never told a boyfriend to come in her mouth. Never had to. It was all they could do to last a few minutes. Once again, instead of feeling humiliated that she had to ask to make a man come, she felt empowered. Slavegirl was powerful. She knew she could do it to this man, however confident and assured he might be in his masculinity, knew she could deliver an orgasm as intense as he'd ever known. She understood in that moment why she needed to be a slave. Her power over men was too great. Only if she gave herself completely and wholly to a man would the Universe achieve balance.

"I will come in your mouth." She moved to take him in. "But not yet." She stopped, his cockhead half in. It was an awkward position for her, head bent down to give his rod a straight shot into her. But she was so ready! Just a few strokes of her tongue and lips, she was sure, would send him over the edge and he would fill her mouth. The nice, conservative girl, the persona she cultivated as a defense against all those guys who had trouble leaving her alone, that girl, the Nice Girl, told her she was being too eager, that she should make him beg a little. And that girl added inside her skull, You actually want to eat his come, don't you? Don't you remember how bad it tastes?

He tilted her head up with his hands, watching her, and pushed his cock further into her. She began sucking but he stopped her.

"Put you hands behind your back."

She obeyed him, of course, and was reduced to holding his cock in her mouth, resting on her tongue, her only contact with his body.

"Deeper."

She worked her lips down him, taking a step on her knees to get herself closer to take in more. She looked up at him as she ate more of him. He just watched. So she took even more of him into her until she could feel the tip at her throat. She had to breathe through her nose.

He stroked her face with his fingers. "You are a very pretty young woman."

She wanted to thank him. She smiled as well as she could around a mouthful of cock and batted her eyes in a way she'd done for fun in the mirror but never with an actual man.

He laughed. "You're flirting with me! You really are going to make an excellent slave." She batted her eyes again. She found that she could take his cock a tiny bit deeper in, feeling she might gag but not caring.

"Now perform for me." She tilted her head slightly and asked with her eyes what he meant. "I want to enjoy looking at your pretty face and your delicious mouth. You can use your hands if you want. Remember, there is a standing command for you to be creative in your slavery."

She understood. She sucked him deeply and slowly while she moved her head this way and that to give him different perspectives on her face. This was already the best blow job she'd ever given and she felt sexier than ever, doing obscene things for this man that she'd never done before. She lifted her head back so he could see down her throat to watch and feel his cock slide all the way in. She took him too far, though, and gagged. Coughing, she had to pull him all the way out. "I'm sorry, my Lord."

"Have you ever deep throated?"

She shook her head. "No, my Lord. I'm sorry, my Lord." Nice Girl was appalled. Apologizing for not doing what only porn stars did.

"You will." It was a simple statement of fact, as if he were telling her that tomorrow she would eat breakfast. She wanted this man for breakfast. And a bedtime snack. She was about to ask him again if he wanted to come. He spoke before she could phrase the question as obsequiously as she wanted. "Stand up."

She was confused, thinking perhaps she'd done something to displease him. She stood. He looked her up and down again. Her exposed nipples were still stiff. "Pants."

She took off her tight pants. Her panties were soaked. "Cocksucking turns you on." Another simple statement of obvious fact.

"You turn me on," she answered. "My Lord."

He chuckled at that. "Come here." She stepped between his legs. He felt up and down her, legs, flat stomach, breasts, making her hiss when he tweaked her nips. He pulled down her panties and felt inside her, sending waves of excitement through her that weakened her knees. She bent half down, holding herself up with her hands on his legs, still reeling, overcome by whatever magic thing he was doing inside her. He pulled out his fingers and licked them. "Very nice. Knees."

She knelt again, struggling a bit with her panties hobbling her. She opened her mouth to speak, stopped, not sure if she should.

"Speak."

"May I continue... sucking..." It was so difficult to say the words, harder, it seemed, than actually performing the act.

At a minimal nod she took him in and really started doing him. His muscles tensed and his hips again lifted. She felt wonderful, awesome. She gave his cock that ride he'd mentioned, from lips to throat, over and over, hugging every every part of him, every ridge and vein and contour, with every part of her she could bring to the touch, her hand massaging those balls in rhythm. When she felt that she'd taken him right to the very edge she slowed and carefully withdrew him. She wanted to ask again.

"Would my Lord enjoy coming in his pretty sex slave's mouth?" She smiled up at him as prettily as she could while she blew on his wet skin. And did her eyelash flirt.

"You are truly very beautiful."

"Am I the prettiest girl to ever give you a blow job?"

"Your the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

She happily put her lips back on him while she looked up into his eyes to make sure he was watching everything she did. But then she stopped and pulled back.

"My Lord." A thought had struck her, a new perspective on herself so radical she felt as if she'd been teleported to a new land.

He gave her that look. "I did instruct you to speak your mind."

"Yes, my Lord, but this is... I realized... I-- I know I am a good looking woman."

"You are exquisite."

"Thank you, my... you see, though, that beauty, being pretty, I realize-- I didn't understand until this moment-- being pretty is sometimes a burden. Much of the time. Always." She licked his cock, keeping it moist like a good slave while she tried to find a way to express herself.

"Many people want a piece of you."

"Yes. Yes. My Lord." She blew on his cock again. He seemed to like her hot tongue on his cooled skin. "And so I've always tried to, you know, to be modest, low-key."

"You hid your light under a basket, as they say."

"Yes!" She diddled that super-sensitive spot under his cockhead to thank him. "But not now."

He pulled his cock away and sat up. "Explain."

She looked up at him, showing him her face in full, plain sight. "I can be as beautiful as I want with you. Because I'm already yours. There is no reason to hide." She focused on his cock. "Please command me." Said as much to his cock as to him, hoping to obey the command she most wanted to hear.

"Stand up."

Her body obeyed as she stared longingly at his cock. Her panties fell to her feet. She was naked before him.

"Walk over there." Pointing to the middle of the carpet. "Get down. All fours."

She got down on her hands and knees, watching for him to come around, thinking he would want his blow job finished with her down like this, which was fine. But he went behind her. Then she knew what was going to happen. "My Lord..."

His response was to pull her legs apart and put his cock up into her. Her breathy yell burst out of her as if he'd reached all the way up to her throat. She rocked as he pounded her. Her head got pulled way back when he grabbed her hair and that forced his cock even further up into her. She panted. His piston action lifted her butt and made her legs spread more and she struggled to keep her hands on the floor. And he was doing something with his fingers to her clit that would have driven her crazy even without his cock stuffing her.

She had a brief out of body experience in which her consciousness seemed to float up and out through her eyes and looked back down at her naked female body being fucked doggy style like the sluts she and her high school crew used to joke about. Too many thoughts ganged up on her. What if her girlfriends saw her now? How long could he keep up that pounding? Would he come inside her? Make her come? Maybe sluts knew something! Her whole body was trembling as if he were shaking a doll. When would he let her suck him off?

Suddenly she was snapped back into her body and she came, hard, really hard, really, really... the orgasm just kept increasing in her, radiating from her pussy to her toes and fingers and exploding out of her throat in a giant rush of sound and breath and tears and spit as if he'd shoved a stick of dynamite up her.

He let her hair go and she collapsed head first into the carpet, still groaning, still being fucked deeper and harder than she'd ever been fucked, harder than she'd ever imagined she could be fucked. It was all way, way too much for her, but she never had a chance to beg him to stop, couldn't form the thought let alone get it out of her around the constant hoarse yells each thrust shot up her throat.

When he turned her on her side she thought he was finally done with her and her emotions warred inside, part of her relieved because she couldn't take anymore without losing consciousness and part of her already wishing for more. She got her semi-wish when, instead of slowing, he spread her legs apart and in a scissors motion new to her experience pushed his already deep cock seemingly inches further into her, into a part of her womanhood she didn't know except from medical exams. When the end of his cock touched up there she did finally explode. Her fears had been correct. It was too much for her. Death by fuck. She convulsed as she orgasmed, shaking violently under the long, deep strokes he made inside her.