Summer slave in San Francisco Ch. 02

"Bring the plate over here," Alan clarifies. His eyes are on me, not the tv screen, as I walk over to the sofa. I'm painfully aware of how humiliatingly domesticated and submissive I must look, bringing dinner to my master wearing nothing but a sheer jockstrap and sporting a giant bulge. On the way over I decide to milk it for all it's worth and walk slowly, putting a little sway in my naked hips.

Alan leans back, drinking me in and clearly enjoying it. "I could get used to this," he offers. He sits up a bit as I approach and I offer the omelet with both hands. He takes it with his right and at almost the same moment I feel his left cup my junk.

"Oh!" I gasp. I'm not sure why, but I hadn't expected him to be so bold. Now that I think of it, this is the first time Alan has touched me. He's had me strip for him twice now, but each time used only his eyes. I stand at attention, skinny body straight and hands at my sides as he squeezes and massages my restrained penis and balls.

"Ohhh... Mmmm!..." I can't help but moan. He's very good at this. The pressure, rhythm, and motion of his hand is clearly practiced. I, on the other hand, am not exactly a virgin, but being mostly asexual outside of kinky situations like this where people often tie me up and make me strip but don't often massage my cock, I don't have much experience with what I'm experiencing. I'm immediately worried that if he keeps this up much longer, I'm going to ejaculate. Alan has me wound up super tight and ready to explode.

I decide that the humiliation of stripping on command and making dinner for him naked is nothing next to how I would feel if I came so early on in our multi-day audition. In the heat of the moment, though, I discover that words are hard to find and the only sufficiently prompt way to express this time-sensitive information is to moan urgently.

Alan raises his eyebrows. "Wow. All I have to do is touch your penis a little bit and you moan like a cheap whore. This is going to be fun."

I feel extremely embarrassed about this, which of course only pushes me closer to climax. I'm about to cum and feeling extremely out of control. I start moaning in short, rhythmic bursts, quickly and loudly, hoping desperately to let my owner know that if he keeps touching me like this I'm going to jizz all over.

The wave of helpless sensation crests. I feel my eager little whore of a body break past the moment of no return. Pulses of molten pleasure surge through my loins as hot semen erupts from my penis.

"Whoa!" Alan exclaims.

For the next several seconds, I both moan and cum hard and loud. I'm totally out of control as the pleasure takes over my naked, nubile body. My thighs tremble, my hips buck forward and back, and I find it hard to remain standing. At last the pulses slow and I release a long, defeated moan and melt to my knees. Alan, who managed to keep his hand cupped around my junk the whole time, leans forward to the edge of the sofa to keep the pool of jizz in his hand from leaking onto his carpet.

"Ahhh... ohhhh, huhhh," I pant, one hand on the sofa next to and the other on the floor for stability. I feel so ashamed, as if Alan, already able to see my entire body, can now see inside me as well.

"Well, well, well," he crows in a mocking tone. "We have ourselves a newbie." He stands up and heads to the kitchen sink. "Take those off and go clean yourself up in the bathroom," he orders.

Weak-kneed and shame-faced, I make the long walk to the bathroom near the front door, hand cupped over my junk to keep any residual semen from dripping onto the floor. I can't believe what has just happened. I just ejaculated into Alan's hand, and after only a minute or two of him playing with my penis. Gods, this is off to a humiliating start, I think. Now he thinks of me as basically a virgin and knows he can make me cum at the drop of a hat. Suddenly I feel very much the inexperienced, submissive, junior partner.

In the bathroom, I strip off the jockstrap and, not wanting the sticky, wet fabric to touch the floor, hang it from a towel rack on the door. There's excess semen oozing from my cock so I massage myself more to get all the rest out, then take a pee. The whole time I'm breathing heavily, wondering what the hell just happened and what's going to happen next. I wash my hands, grab my soiled jockstrap, and open the bathroom door.

"Put that in the washing machine," Alan commands in his lazy drone, indicating the stacked washer and dryer unit opposite the kitchen. They're cleverly tucked into the wall, directly beneath the stairs that lead to the loft second floor. I do as I'm told, then I'm unsure what to do.

"Come over here." Alan is seated on the sofa again, but with a very different body posture, one leg crossed over the other and his back flush with the sofa. I walk toward him, my body language also very different from moments earlier. Instead of swaggering, I walk stiffly and with swift, small steps, hands at my sides. Though I was basically naked before, I somehow keenly feel the loss of the jockstrap and the fact that I am now utterly bereft of clothes, erotic or otherwise.

"Well, well," Alan says. I sense this is going to be a common refrain. "You certainly came quickly."

I have no idea what to say to this, so I stare off to one side and say nothing.

"You must be quite the newbie," Alan repeats, as if this gives me special power over me. "As fun as that is, I can't have you cumming at the drop of a hat whenever you want to."

Shit, I think. I'm going to have to learn to contain and control the insane sexual energy Alan conjures up within me. I have no idea if that's even possible. I was utterly overwhelmed by it just moments earlier. What if I can't stop myself?

"Kneel down," Alan instructs, pointing to a spot on the carpet a few feet in front of him. Feeling like a pupil who just got in trouble with his teacher, I do as I'm told.

"Knees wide," Alan orders. I obey. It leaves my crotch feeling incredibly exposed. I sense a new erection slowly beginning to build. Shit!

"Hands on the back of your head."

What? I look directly at him for the first time since leaving the bathroom. He looks back--bored and confident like a teacher disciplining a student.

"Did I speak Japanese?" The tone in his voice will brook no resistance. I take my hands off of my thighs and place them on the back of my head, elbows out wide.

I feel so incredibly vulnerable. I watch him look over my nipples and pecs, trim abdomen, bare thighs, penis and scrotum. He looks for a long time, maybe two full minutes. My penis gets harder and harder.

"I see you're eager for another fucking," Alan comments at last. "But that's not what this is about. I hope you weren't expecting I would let you live in my place rent free and fuck you every day, too. Is that what you're thinking this is going to be?"

I don't know what to say. I'm horribly ashamed and honestly a little scared. Alan thinks I'm some privileged, self-centered little bitch who just graduated from an elite school and thinks the world owes him free rent and a handjob every day. I stare at Alan and feel myself breathing quick, shallow breaths.

"Because that's not what this arrangement is going to be," Alan continues. His voice isn't bored and sardonic anymore. It's stern, hard, and a little cold. "You will do as I say and obey me with exactness, is that understood?"

I swallow hard and nod. In some way I didn't fully anticipate, nodding meekly in obedience while kneeling in front of someone completely naked, thighs spread wide and hands behind your head leaves a deep impression on you. I didn't just nod. I nodded and meant it.

"That includes when and if you are allowed to cum. Is that clear, slave?"

This is the first time he's called me 'slave.' I again nod meekly, and when I do I accept the label, the role, the identity. I don't know where he learned this stuff, but this exchange is as good as a branding. I feel like his property. I belong to him now.

"Of course, we're going to have lots of fun this summer," Alan continues. "And if this was any indication I bet I'll make you cum many, many times."

Fuck. I immediately have vivid fantasies of Alan milking me like a dairy cow.

"But you're here to serve me, not the other way around. You do everything I tell you and we'll have fun. Disobey me or start ejaculating when you're not expected to and I'll be forced to punish you. Is that clear?"

Again, I look him in the eyes, hands behind my head, my body naked and wide open, and nod.

"Good," Alan says. "And since we're off to such a rocky start, let's get some basics out of the way. First, you are to address me as 'master.' Is that clear?"

Fuck. Whether I was Alan's de facto slave or not, I had been hoping to avoid the overt trappings of a master-slave relationship. No dice. I'm breathing quick and shallow as I nod yet again.

"Second, you are to repeat 'yes, master,' after every order you receive. Clear?"

I nod again, but these aren't just motions of my head. I feel something shift deeper and deeper down each time I submit without struggle or resistance to a new rule.

"What did you say?" Alan asks. "I didn't hear anything."

I stare blankly at him for a moment until I realize what's going on. "Yes, master," I intone.

"Better," Alan says. "You're going to stay in that posture until I tell you otherwise." Alan turns back to his neglected omelet, then looks at me incredulously and says, "Do I have to get my flogger and spank your ass?"

A shiver of fear runs down my spine. What did I do wrong? My mind races for a moment, then I catch on.

"Yes, master."