The Truest Control Ch. 05

"Yes, Queen Liz, you were right," Roger wheezed.

"I saw that you were a man who needed exactly what I'm giving to you now: a man who needed to have his control stripped away, to have someone in charge telling him everything that he would do, say, and think, someone to humiliate him and abuse him in the most degrading ways imaginable, and someone for him to beg and thank for it all. That is who and what you are."

"Yes, Queen Liz, that's exactly right."

"Then show me. Show me who's in charge. Show me how desperately you want to humiliate yourself for me, you tiny insect."

Roger didn't need to be told twice. He awkwardly hefted himself up with his legs and put his mouth around the dildo. In this position, it was exceedingly difficult to support his upper body since the only thing offering any resistance to his upper body now was the dildo, and so he could not prevent it from thrusting deep into his throat as he bobbed up and down on it, trying to coat it with as much of his saliva as he could. He knew that Liz was filming this, but as he began choking on the dildo, all concerns about being humiliated evaporated in the struggle to stay conscious as the dildo blocked his throat again and again. He had no idea how long he had been doing this-it could have been 30 seconds or 30 minutes-but finally Liz said "Okay, that's enough. Now turn around and show me how you take a dick, you dirty slut."

Roger turned himself around, dragging his face on the floor as he did so, and when he was facing away from the dildo, Liz grabbed his hair and used it to pull his head up, so that he was facing her. She kept the camera focused on his face as she said "Open your mouth."

Roger opened his mouth slightly, but closed it after a moment. "No, keep it open," Liz ordered.

Roger kept his mouth open for a moment, but then said "I'm going to start drooling if I keep it open."

"Good. Then drool. Open your mouth and keep it open," she said firmly.

Roger opened up, and sure enough, after a moment, strands of drool began to drip onto the carpet. "Good," Liz approved. "Now it's time. Back up onto that dildo and take it all in."

The reason Liz had wanted Roger's mouth open was because it would open up so much wider the moment the dildo went inside. Indeed, as the dildo began to cleave Roger's buttocks and slip inside him, both his eyes and his mouth opened with such an expression of astonishment that Liz had a fit of giggles. She held Roger's hair just long enough to get a good capture of this pop-eyed, jaw-dropped expression on the camera before she let go of his hair, letting his head slam to the floor. "Now get to work!" she ordered sharply. "Fuck that dildo like your life depended on it!"

Even if Roger could have supported himself with his arms, it would have been embarrassing beyond belief, but it was so much more embarrassing when he couldn't use his arms, when he had to drag his face on the floor like a slut, when he had to desperately push his ass onto the dildo with his knees. But he kept doing it, because this was the first sexual stimulation he had had in a while, and even though the dildo felt intolerably huge inside his ass, it pressed against his prostate in a way that he couldn't resist, especially since he hadn't orgasmed for a few days.

Liz, too, was aware of how the giant dildo must have been stimulating him, because she asked suddenly: "I bet you could orgasm just from doing this, couldn't you, you filthy slut?"

"Yes... Queen... Liz... I... pro... bably... could," Roger gasped, having difficulty speaking between thrusting himself on the dildo and trying to keep his face from sliding against the carpet too much.

"Then do it," she said. "This is a special occasion, and I want to see you orgasm while you fuck yourself on that wall-mounted dildo like the desperately horny slut you are."

Roger was beyond all caring about dignity as the need to stimulate himself welled up within him, and he continued to thrust against the dildo with ever-increasing intensity until sure enough, after several minutes, quick jets of semen burst from his aching penis. In this position, his ejaculation struck him on his chest, and the cum ran down his neck and chin.

Liz giggled as she captured this moment on video. "It almost looks like the dildo itself ejaculated onto you," she said with a voice that sounded as if she'd just won the lottery.

When Roger's orgasm was finished, he collapsed, exhausted, on the floor and caught his breath in ragged, wheezing gasps. He was barely conscious of the words Liz was saying: "I think that's the most disgusting, degrading thing I've ever seen done to anyone. And you did it all to yourself. How do you feel, slut?"

Roger wasn't sure how to answer. He had so much of so many emotions that he couldn't even begin to pick them out and identify them. "I'm not sure," he said slowly, still gasping to catch his breath. "How do you want me to feel, Queen Liz?"

A surge of joy and love welled up within Liz when he said this. He was not only experiencing emotions for her, he was asking her to tell him what emotions he should feel. This was probably the first time in her life anyone had ever asked her what to feel, and she was elated beyond belief to have someone asking her this. She wanted to tell him how to do everything: not only what to do and say, but what to feel, what to think. He had asked exactly the right question, and she was so happy that she wanted to hug him, to hold him, to tell him that she loved him, but she kept these emotions inside and simply said: "You feel happy. You are grateful that I allowed you to humiliate yourself on camera for my pleasure."

"Yes, Queen Liz, that's right."

"Then tell me so. I want you to say it."

"Thank you, Queen Liz, for letting me orgasm and for giving me this opportunity to humiliate myself on camera for you."

"You're welcome, slave," she said, and there was something different in her voice now, something so much different that Roger looked up at her to catch her facial expression. He saw there not a cruel look of domination, but a gentle look of love. And suddenly, he smiled up at her, and both of them realized that they had found the one.

For a moment, she wanted to nurse him, to wipe his face and clean his semen off his torso, but then she realized that this was not what either of them really wanted. She did, however, want the satisfaction of having that huge dick inside her.

"Do you feel like all your cum is drained out? Or do you still have more inside you?" she asked.

Roger thought about it for a moment, then said: "I think I still have more."

"YESSS!" Liz exulted, and Roger looked up at her again. In that moment, she seemed so happy again, like a little girl who has had her greatest wish granted. Liz had managed to get Roger to orgasm without experiencing release.

Despite the common notion that a man's testicles are the storehouse of his semen, actually only a relatively small part of the ejaculate, namely the sperm cells themselves, are kept in the testicles, and this accounts for less than 5 percent of the overall volume of semen. The vast majority of the ejaculate fluids are kept in the prostate gland and the seminal vesicles, and while the prostate gland can be stimulated through the man's rectum, which is what had brought about Roger's orgasm, the seminal vesicles are deep inside the abdomen, and they are nearly impossible to externally stimulate in a way that empties them out, meaning that unless a man experiences a full, proper orgasm with stimulation to the penis, those seminal vesicles will retain most of their fluid, and the man will remain in his horny state: submissive, suggestive, and easy to manipulate. Liz was overjoyed because she had found a way to bring Roger periodic sexual release in a way that wasn't really a release: it wouldn't release him from the need to be sexually stimulated, and yet because he'd just had an orgasm, he was now in the phase where it would take a long time before he could orgasm again. This meant that she could have a lot of fun with his penis.

She picked him up, then lied down on the floor, pulling him on top of her. "I want you inside me," she said simply. "And if you don't want the responsibility of having a baby with me, then you'd better think twice before you orgasm."

In truth, Liz was on the birth control pill, so there was basically no chance of Roger actually getting her pregnant at this moment, but she enjoyed giving him more things to worry about. She also knew that even if a man doesn't actually orgasm inside a woman, his pre-ejaculate fluids often contain enough sperm to initiate a pregnancy, and Roger's penis was still dribbling enough semen that once he got inside her, she wouldn't be able to avoid getting some of the sperm in there as well, but this was not a problem. She was once again wearing her skirt without panties, and so without further ado, she seized that still-erect penis, and guiding it into the right spot, tugged on it gently.

Roger knew what to do. With his hands still cuffed behind his back, he could only thrust with his legs, but this was easier when he was lying on top of her than when he'd been on his knees in front of the dildo. Roger's penis, still sensitive from his recent orgasm, recognized the feeling of her moistness as soon as the two came into contact, and he instinctively pushed against it. She was soaking wet, and he encountered remarkably little resistance as his penis pushed her open, her tight walls yielding as their throbbing guest pushed insistently inside.

Despite what was going on with their lower bodies, Liz remained fully dressed on top. This was intentional; she had made a point of Roger never seeing her fully naked. Her upper body was off-limits to him. Her breasts were not only one of her most powerful means of controlling him; they were also something which, if he ever saw, he might have used to objectify her. It was important that she turn him into the object, not the other way around: that she could turn him into a thing, her thing, her possession to use as she wished. When she was with him, she would only ever take her lower clothes off, because that was his domain: her crotch and her butt were his home, the place for his face, nose, and mouth to bring her pleasure. The only release he had was in bringing her release.

To that end, it was important that their sex stop before Roger could have another orgasm. It took him a long time to build up to that point, because his erection was gratifyingly durable thanks to the fact that he'd recently partially drained himself, and Liz had at least two or three orgasms while squealing underneath Roger, but at least she felt his pace slow, felt that intensity of purpose which could only herald the coming of another orgasm from Roger, and as he built up to that release, she suddenly pushed him off her, leaving his penis twitching ineffectively in the throes of a ruined orgasm as a gentle trickle of semen bubbled out: Roger's second incomplete orgasm of the evening. It would be his last orgasm of any kind for a long time.

Roger groaned as a wave of unfulfillment swept over him. It was the feeling of having one's chocolate bar taken away after only taking a single bite of it, of having a warm shower suddenly turn cold, of having an intense orgasm interrupted before it could reach its peak. Liz laughed at his torment; one of her greatest pleasures in their relationship was to make Roger suffer.

To add to his torment, she reached out and stroked his penis, causing him to gasp and quiver in passion. "Oh, please, Liz, Queen Liz..." he groaned. "Please, may I have an orgasm? I didn't finish emptying myself out."

"Of course you didn't finish," she said. "I don'twant you to empty yourself out. I want you to always remain full of nice, hot cum."

"But it hurts so much," Roger said. "I need to..."

Liz moved her hand down and squeezed Roger's testicles firmly, causing him to yelp and writhe on the floor in pain. "Did I just hear you contradict my will?" she asked furiously. "You just agreed tonight to not only accept my wishes but tobeg to comply with them, and now you're resisting because you want to empty a few drops of jizz from your stupid dick?"

Roger stared at her, dumbfounded. He was much too dazed and confused to respond to her. He wanted to say something to appease her, but he also wanted to orgasm so badly, and there were so many other things he wanted to think about and talk about which he didn't have time for right now.

In a rage, she grabbed him by the hair and began walking down the hall. Roger, his hands still cuffed behind his back, could only get up and follow her as she roughly pulled him along.

She led him to the bathroom, where she threw him on the floor. "You intend to tell me how badly you need to cum, like some stupid high school student trying to convince his girlfriend that he needs to cum or he'll die? Do you really think that I'll accept that kind of behavior from you?" she said, still speaking in a voice that was between a shout and a snarl.

Roger was too overwhelmed to respond, so she continued. "I'll show you what happens to people who resist me. If you want to pull these kinds of stupid high school pranks, then I've got a high school prank for you." Liz lifted the lid of the toilet, and was going to lift the seat too, but then she thought better of it: if the seat were down, it would be more difficult for Roger to pull his head out. So with the lid up but the seat down, she grabbed Roger's hair roughly, shoved his head into the toilet, and sat on his back to push him down. With Roger's hands still cuffed behind his back, there was absolutely no way he could have had the strength to lift her weight, and so he simply remained with his head in the toilet. His face wasn't all the way down into the water, but when she pushed his head down, he lacked the strength to resist, and so his face plunged to the bottom of the toilet as she pulled the lever and the rushing water of the flush swirled around him. When the flush was done, she stood up, allowing him to slide out of the toilet, which he did, collapsing on the floor in a spluttering heap, gasping to catch his breath. He had the presence of mind to look up at her out of fear, fear that she might do something else to him, and he saw that she was still filming him, had filmed the whole thing.

When Roger had caught his breath, Liz poked him in the chest with her foot and asked with a smile: "Did you enjoy that?"

Roger exhaled for a moment, then replied: "No."

"What?" she asked, suddenly becoming furious again. "Howdare you say that you didn't appreciate my imposition of will?" Even more angry than before, she kicked him in the testicles as hard as she could, and Roger screamed, writhing on the floor in pain. His hands were still not free to defend his testicles, and so more for fun than anything else, she kicked them a second time, since she liked the way his hands tried to reach down to cover them even though of course his hands could not move. It was a wonderful thing to see a man try to use his hands but not be able to. While Roger screamed out his agony, he was only vaguely aware of the trickling sound that could only be Liz peeing into the toilet. Sure enough, after a moment, she pulled him up by the hair again, and held him over the toilet, where the color and smell of the water confirmed that she had just emptied her bladder inside. "I'll show you what happens to people who don't appreciate what I do!" she shrieked, and with that, she stomped on his head, causing it to sink into the yellow water below.

This time, she held his head in the water for a while before she flushed it. Roger began to struggle, and she took a moment's delight in the fantasy of making him gasp a lungful of her urine, but she didn't want to drown him, so when his struggles became insistent, she flushed the toilet once more, then let him pull his head out and collapse, once again, on the floor.

Roger was too weak now to react as violently as he had before, and so he remained inert, breathing hard and thus obviously alive, but unable to gasp with the same intensity that he'd done after the first flush.

She stood there watching him for a long time, the camera still filming his every move, and when he calmed down and she was sure that he could speak, she asked again: "Did you enjoy that?"

Roger was becoming dumber under her influence, but even he knew the right answer this time. "Yes, Queen Liz. Thank you for flushing my head in the toilet."

"I didn't just flush your head in the toilet. I did ittwice, once with my piss in there as well."

"Yes," Roger agreed.

"Then thank me for it, you ungrateful slob. Show some appreciation for the things I do for you."

"Thank you, Queen Liz, for flushing my head in your urine."

"That's better. Did you happen to inhale some of it?"

"Actually, yes," Roger said, "I think I inhaled some of it into my lungs."

"How sweet!" Liz said. "You got some of your semen in me, and now there's some of my piss inside you. Each of us has shared part of ourselves with the other. Isn't that romantic?"

Roger didn't really think so, but... then again, maybe he did. In any case, he knew what the right answer was. "Yes, Queen Liz, it's very romantic."

"You know what?" Liz said thoughtfully. "I think this is one of my favorite things we've done together. You look so wonderful with your head immersed in a toilet bowl of my piss, and you feel so wonderful underneath me when you're trying to struggle to get out." She paused, then added: "From now on, we're going to do this every night."

Roger wanted to protest so badly, but he knew that the consequences of resisting would be much worse than what had already passed. So he quietly said "Yes, Queen Liz."

"That means you'll have to beg for it. You must beg me to do the things I like to do, or things will get much worse for you."

"Yes, Queen Liz, I understand."

"Good slave. So you'll beg me every single night for this, right?"

Roger sighed gently, but then said "Yes, Queen Liz."

She kicked him lightly in the testicles, and he yelped again. "Don't sigh. Say it like you mean it. Say it with enthusiasm."

Roger mustered all his strength and said, in as bright a voice as he could: "Yes, Queen Liz, I want to beg you for this treatment every night."

"Good boy. Do you understand why you must beg for it, Roger?"

"Um, because you like it when I do?"

"Yes, exactly. I like pushing your head in the toilet and then flushing it. Like I said, I think it might be one of my favorite things we've done together so far. And you like making me happy, don't you, Roger?"

"Yes, Queen Liz, of course, I like making you happy."

"Good, I'm glad," she said with a rewarding smile. "Then you should beg to do the things that make me happy, because making me happy is also what makes you happy. Don't forget that."

"I won't forget," he said.

"I think it's time to go to sleep," she announced. "You're such a mess that you're going to sleep here on the bathroom floor. I will sleep in my bed. In the morning, you can get yourself cleaned up and go to work. I will remain here in my house while you're at work. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Queen Liz, thank you," Roger said.

Liz uncuffed his hands, and Roger slowly brought his hands forward. His arms were stiff from having been immobilized for so long, and his hands were beginning to hurt as the blood began to flow back into them. He weakly massaged his aching hands as Liz asked: "I can trust that you'll make no efforts to masturbate yourself to orgasm in the night?"

"Yes, Queen Liz, I won't try to do anything like that," he promised. It was true: he was too afraid to attempt any such thing.