Date: Fri, 29 May 2015 17:02:42 +0100
From: Adam Bakar <subslaveadam@gmail.com>
Subject: Asian Slave Submits 8 - Tit Abuse

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ASIAN SLAVE SUBMITS 8 - TIT ABUSE


	I began to settle down into my new life as Masters Rewan's and
Greg's personal fuckslave. I admit that I owed the ease of this transition
to my sexual attraction to both my Masters and hence my willingness to
serve them. Their confidence and swagger appealed to me.


	Personally, I thought that Master Rewan's rules were a little
fragmented and lacking in details, yet the concept aroused me
greatly. Perhaps it was a test in itself, to gauge my initiative and
creativity as their slave.


	Master Rewan was the ideal Master for me - kind, fair, patient yet
firm - hence safely reliable. Master Greg was slightly more erratic -
selfish, assertive, cold and remote at times, testy but highly intelligent
- which kept me on my toes. Don't get me wrong, Master Rewan wasn't the
good cop to Master Greg's bad one. Far from it.


Yes, Master Greg was aggressive, but I like it rough. Keeping up with
Master Greg's inconsistent yet exacting standards, and fulfilling his
extreme and sometimes absurd demands, was an achievement in itself and
utterly gratifying.


	Some opined it was too soon for the 3 of us to engage in an extreme
sexual relationship, that we were too young. A fair observation. True, what
we had was hardly a vanilla menage a trois. Even I found it hard to
understand the dynamic of my Masters friendship with each other. Childhood
friends, both dominant tops that shared the same kinks and quite specific
taste in submissive bottoms, yet they did not engage in sexual acts with
each other, exclusive- or inclusively.


	Unusual, huh?


	Despite all the various sentiments voiced by many, the simplest
fact was the paramount one: that my Masters and me were all consenting
adults engaging in consensual acts.


	I strived to please and pleasure my Masters. Always. This meant
being vigilant to their needs and preferences. Master Rewan communicated
his orders effectively, matching them flawlessly to my comprehension and
abilities. Rarely did he have to repeat himself or physically instruct
me. I fell quickly into his routine, whereas I struggled with Master Greg's
as he had none.


	Well, none that were readily anticipated. I learned the hard way
that Master Greg didn't really concern himself with lube, at least not with
his personal cumdump. One balmy afternoon, Master Greg found me napping on
the couch and shoved his fuckpole up my boycunt, dry. It was unpleasant and
my arse resisted the invasion, so he spat on my hole and renewed the
assault. Rather than pleading for lube, I took Master's cue and spewed out
copious amount of my own saliva to coat his cock. It was one of a handful
of fucking by Master Greg that I did not enjoy. I had never produced so
much saliva in such a short time.


	From that point onwards, I ensured that lube was always within easy
reach. Always and all the time, especially when Master Greg was around.


	It was a nuisance carrying packets of single-use lube. But Master
Greg was insatiable and unrelenting. His sex drive recognised neither
location nor time constraints: on a secluded part of the beach, toilet
cubicle of a club and even in a department store's changing room!


	I learned soon enough that he liked his sweaty pits licked and his
body worshipped when he's back from the gym. Not suck or ride his cock,
though I couldn't resist the temptation to bury my nose between his thighs
and around his balls. That heady distinctive musk he gave off, especially
when he was sweaty, kept me servile. It kept me rooted at the appropriate
place, kneeling between my Master's leg like a loyal, hungry dog. When, and
if, he's ready to receive a blowjob, he would grab a handful of my hair and
shove his fuckrod down my throat. Otherwise he'd push me aside and hit the
shower, leaving me unceremoniously high and dry.


	Similarly, I gave Master Greg a wake-up blowjob every morning
whenever possible. This was explicitly instructed to me the day after I
moved in, failure of which would incur a punishment. I never let Master
down. Most of the times I was rewarded with Master's morning spunk,
sometimes a thorough fucking and very rarely a rough slap on my cheek as he
turned over and continued sleeping.


	If I was somewhere else and Master Greg needed to use either of my
holes, he would simply send me a text message stating only his location. I
was to drop anything I was doing and meet him immediately, the only
acceptable excuse being work, no other exceptions. If I was delayed for
whatever reason, a second text with a curt "NOW" was sent and I knew I was
in trouble. It was all very arbitrary, but in keeping with Master Greg's
unpredictable nature.


	For the first couple of weeks, I spent most nights sleeping on
Master Greg's bed, as Master would inevitably be offloading his evening cum
in my arse before bed. Master Rewan would occasionally join us to breed me,
but never to sleep there. Master Greg's room was quite spartan - wardrobe,
nighstand, fitness utility bench and a few dumbbells.


	No posters or prints, just a huge mirror on the wall above his
headboard. Bit tacky, but it was a metaphorical and literal reflection of
his vanity. Remember the scene in American Psycho where Patrick Bateman was
watching himself in the mirror while fucking 2 hookers to the tune of
Everybody My Dick Tonight? I would occasionally catch Master Greg flexing
his biceps in said mirror while his cock pillaged my arse, exactly like Mr
Bateman.


	A long chain trailing down from a ceiling hook completed the decor,
a chain that I had been attached to many times: my balls, my neck, my
ankles but mostly my wrists. It was while attached to this chain that I
subdued my gag reflex. I was riding Master Rewan's cock cowboy style while
my wrists were cuffed above my head to the ceiling chain. Master Greg
shoved his monster serpent down my throat and I took all of it without the
aid of a spider gag. Master Rewan kept me pliant and immobilised by
tweaking my nipples. Fun times.


	At work, new colleagues helped ease me into my new position,
despite the challenges of a different environment and work ethics. I kept
up with swimming and joined a gay running club too. From there onwards, I
built a small group of acquaintances that I socialised with. In hindsight,
I was glad to be allowed these liberties - they provided a ballast to my
otherwise alternative life with Masters, some semblance of normality.


	To say that life in Masters' apartment was utterly extreme was
perhaps stretching it. Yes, the dynamic was that of 2 Masters and their
fuckslave. But there were evenings after a long slog of a hard day where we
just collapsed on the couch watching crap telly. Yet they were few and far
between.


	Masters Rewan and Greg were open about our arrangements to a select
few friends that share the same kinks - I wasn't their first fuckslave
after all. But Masters also had a wider circle of friends that were none
the wiser and I was just a new flatmate that moved into the spare room. I
had a chance to meet these friends one evening.


	Master Greg was away on business for a few days, so it was just me
and Master Rewan. I was taken aback when Master asked if I fancied a few
drinks with his mates, as I thought that Masters wouldn't want us to cross
paths. I was anxious too, as I appreciate it might be difficult to break
into an established social circle.


	"It's about time you meet them. Plus Greg isn't here to boss you
around. Come on, it'll be fun," reassured Master, shooting me his trademark
grin.


	My anxiety was totally misplaced. Rewan's friends were really nice
and made me feel included as they spoke exclusively in English. They even
made the effort to explain cultural references and in-jokes among their
close knit group. They were a sterling tribute to Rewan's affable, gentle
and humorous nature. In the absence of Greg, I felt relaxed and were able
to engage them with ease.


	We started the evening in a pintxo bar before heading to their
favourite watering hole then to a club. It was my first night out in Europe
and I was having a good time among great company. I was cautious to mind my
drinks once I was merry and not try to keep up with Rewan and his
friends. We also hit the dancefloor and Rewan even danced suggestively with
me, to which I panicked momentarily.


	I wasn't used to such close proximity, at least not in a non-gay
club. Sensing my discomfort, Rewan laughed it off and placed his hands on
my shoulders before saying, "Relax, it's ok, we're not in KL," and
continued to dance with me.


	We walked home at the end of the night while Rewan leaned on me,
one arm around my shoulders, obviously had one too many. We were chatting
animatedly about something or another when I suddenly realised, albeit in
an opaque state of inebriation, that my cock had grown hard since we danced
in the club. I could smell Rewan's sweaty sweet musk and it completely
turned me on. Combined with the alcohol imbibed, I was potently horny.


	I instinctively stripped off my clothes the moment we walked in the
flat, as per Master Rewan's rule. Master was still talking but stopped
abruptly to watch me undress. My hard cock was relieved to be freed of its
constraints, bouncing to my movements as I clasped the slave collar to my
neck and leather cuffs to my wrists. When I was done, Master handed me a
nightcap and we sat down on the couch drinking and listening to music.


	We attempted to continue our wandering conversation, but it was
futile as neither of us could ignore my raging hardon. If Master Greg were
there, he would already have me servicing his cock. Yet there was an
awkward intention to continue talking and chilling, ultimately overridden
by the mutual rising of lust. I wanted to play with my cock, but conscious
that it was against the rule.


	Master stared at me for what seems like ages, before snapping his
fingers and pointed to the floor in front of him.


	"On your feet, facing away from me and bend over," ordered
Master. My heart was beating hard as I obeyed.


	Master left, came back a minute later and then grabbed my balls,
pulling them away from my body. A humbler went on after a few tries and my
wrist were cuffed then linked together behind my back. Master then resumed
his place on the couch while teasing my arsehole with his finger.


	"Turn to face me and kneel," was Master's next command.


	I did so with little difficulty, despite the humbler keeping my
balls stretched and my upper legs bent at the hips. Master gestured for me
to sit on the balls of my heels, keep my back straight and my chest out,
presenting my brown tits to him. A few small accoutrement that I hadn't
seen before lay on the couch next to Master.


	"Some new toys... I was waiting until I have you all to myself
before using them on your tits," said Master as he leaned forward to give
my nipples a few firm tugs.


	Squeezing from an unidentified bottle, Master spread some gel on my
tits that gave a subtle tingling prickling sensation to them. A small slim
cylinder was attached to my right nipple and Master twisted one end of it
to create some sort of vacuum in the cylinder. This made the suction
cylinder (a nipple sucker as I found out later) stick to my chest and suck
my tits out. Master repeated with another sucker to my left nipple as I
watched with absolute fascination as Master continued to twist both of them
until my tits protruded about half an inch out from my chest. It was a
strange feeling, not entirely uncomfortable, but heightened by the tingling
effects of the gel.


	Satisfied with the length of protrusion, Master paused briefly to
allow for sufficient blood to fill my nipples. Then Master gingerly
detached a tiny rubber ring from each tit suckers and surrounded the base
of both my nipples, trapping the blood that flowed in them. Kinda like a
cockring, but for tits. Bidding his time, ensuring that the rubber rings
were adequately secured, Master gently de-twisted the nipple suckers and
removed them from my chest.


	I watched in trepidation as my tits remained protruded and engorged
as the tiny rubber rings sank onto my nipples, constricting blood flow out
of them. I couldn't take my eyes off them, unsure if I was utterly shocked
or aroused. Possibly both. They were no longer my small brown tits, but now
resembled an ewe's swollen teats bursting with milk for hungry lambs in
spring!


	"Eyes on me, boy," commanded Master Rewan, perhaps sensing my
apprehension.


	Master took off his top to expose his defined body, which never
failed to entrance me. It was a suitable distraction. Master leaned back,
sipped his drink, lit a cigarette and studied me, enjoying his handiwork.


	I was fully aware of my enlarged tits, the combination of their
erect state and the tingling gel heightened their sensitivity, ripe and
vulnerable for more tit abuse.


	"Best bits are yet to come," hinted Master, perhaps sensing my
internal anxiety.


	Stubbing out his cigarette, Master proceeded to playfully flick my
exposed tits, sending burst of signals down to my cock, which flinched in
response. I had totally forgotten about my cock, too preoccupied with these
new assault on my boytits. I was surprised to find that my tits were as
hard as my cock, if not harder! Master repeated his flicking, alternating
between nipples then ending with a synchronised onslaught.


	It was a tactile overload for me, a mini orgasm in itself. For the
first time, I wanted to touch my cock desperately and furiously jack
it. But Master had the foresight to restrain my hands behind my back
earlier. In between uninhibited lustful moaning, I was close to beg Master
to allow me to masturbate.


	I gasped in sheer pleasure when Master applied my old friend the
tit clamps. I had missed it digging sweetly on my now souped-up nipples. It
was an upgrade for me as a titslave. I wiggled my lean torso to rattle the
clamps on my hard erect tits, mimicking the earlier flicking, making them
dig further on my raw tits. I must've looked silly, but I was in heat. Pure
bliss.


	"Enjoying this, titslut?" asked Master.


	"Yes Sir! More please, Sir!" I begged.


	"You asked for it."


	Master added small weights onto the clamps, slowly and gradually
increasing the bite on my abused tits. I adjusted my movement to
compensate, increasing my speed to gain more tit titillation to reach a
zenith before decreasing the speed as the weights continued to pile
on. Slowly but gradually I came to a halt as Master added the final weight
that proved one too many, as it started to get painful. One too many.


	I gritted my teeth in pain, but kept my posture like an exemplary
slave. I focused my sight on Master's defined body, on his muscles, and
caught a noticeable bulge on his crotch. Obviously I wasn't the only one
gratified by this exercise - the pleasure was mutual. Master lit another
cigarette and gave me a drag, which calmed me, but it wasn't the welcomed
respite I was hoping for.


	Master rested the lit end of the cigarette just inches from my
right nipple and gradually closed in the distance. Motivated by Master's
arousal and enjoyment, I took the abuse with the obedience expected of a
kept slave. As the embers neared, it seared my oversensitized tits, sending
sharp agony that shuddered my lithe body. Master moved to my left nipple
and, alternating between drags, gave both sides equal share of the abuse.


	My tits had been spread with prickling gel, pumped, kept erect,
flicked, clamped and weighted. The heat from the lit cigarette took the
abuse to another level. I tensed my body as the cigarette came within a
hairbreadth of my violated tits. Oh how it burned! I had lost track of how
long I endured the pain, but it seem to last forever. I was proud that I
did not flinch or beg Master to stop.


	When Master ceased his vicious assault, the cigarette had burned
down to its stub, leaving my tits looking angrier and darker. I was
surprised that I didn't lose my erection at all. Yes, there was an
undoubted connection between this tit abuse to my raging hardon. But was
there a latent pain slave in me? Could I be? Could I really truly be?


	I watched with abject horror as Master lit another cigarette and
renewed his onslaught. I gritted my teeth and my body shuddered again. I
glimpsed the fervent look on Master's face, before closing my eyes and
endured. My inherent desire to please Master made me persevere. I focused
my thoughts on the arousing aspect of Master's sadistic traits; on fighting
the urge not to move or protest; before trying to embracing my quiescent
masochistic side.


	It felt like a red hot poker was rubbing against my abused tits. It
felt like I was stuck in a timeless warp. It felt like forever, like it
would never end.


	A gentle slap on my cheek brought me back. Opening my eyes I saw
Master's trademark grin and just as before, there was nothing left of the
cigarette but its charred stub.


	"You ok?" Master asked.


	I nodded. Touched, in fact, that he even asked.


	"You did well, boy. Very well. Come and claim your reward," said
Master as he leaned back on the couch and whipped out his beautiful curved
cock, now in full mast.


	A reward indeed, as I edged forward and tasted Master's cockhead
with relish, before greedily gobbling most of it in one go. It was a huge
comfort to feel Master's big hard fuckpole filling my mouth and demanding
entrance to my throat; a relief after the intense titwork. Breathing in
Master's intoxicating musk and exhaling slowly, I went for the last few
inches down to the base, opening up my throat for the intruder to take its
rightful place.


	I stayed down for as long as I could, massaging Master's cock with
my throat. When I came up for air, I saw Master had tilted his head back,
eyes closed and grinning lustfully, hands behind his head exposing his
armpits. Oh the temptation to dive in on those pits and worship his defined
body! I was spoilt for choice, but focused on the task at hand. Starting
slowly before working up a rhythm, I withdrew Master's cock completely
before going all down to the base.


	Slightly tricky and quite taxing to do, especially with my hands
restrained behind my back and my posture restricted by the humbler. But it
gave momentum to the weights dangling off my abused tits, continued the
stimulation, increased the pressure of the clamps, and sent waves of
pleasure through my body down to my cock.


	I could do this forever. It was the perfect reward for a cockslave
like me, worshipping Master's perfect cumpole, a soothing sweet lollipop
after the painful tit ordeal earlier. Being in cock heaven, the whole
experience so far started to coalesce into a pleasurable one. Not despite
of, rather, because of its extreme nature. Perhaps I was a masochistic
slave.


	But I was first and foremost a fuckslut, a submissive bottom always
yearning for a massive cock to use and abuse my tiny hole. A greedy one at
that. Now that my throat was rewarded, my arse was screaming for its
rightful turn. The cockslut in me got impatient, bordering on impertinent,
when I dared to abandon Master's cock completely to lick his abs.


	Tracing the contours of Master's 6-pack with my tongue, I made my
lingual journey up Master's hard pecs before burying both my mouth and nose
in Master's exposed pits, lapping up the offered musk. My lean torso
followed suit, as I straddled Master's narrow waist and teased his cock
with my arsehole, knowing that I received the additional bonus of rubbing
my neglected cock on Master's sculpted abs.


	I wouldn't hazard such risky manoeuvre with Master Greg, wouldn't
even dream of it. Driven by lust, I was inadvertently testing Master Rewan.


	Grabbing the back of my collar to the point of choking me, Master
Rewan pried me away from his armpit, looked straight into my eye and held
his gaze. Fear took me, immediately regretting my weakness to allow my lust
to override my primary duty as an owned slave: to obey.


	"Got ahead of yourself there boy," said Master sternly, almost
disappointed even.


	I wanted to apologise, but decided against. I knew what I did was
wrong and silently vowed not to repeat it. Releasing his grip on my collar,
Master effortlessly lifted me off and onto the floor, then uncoupled the
chain linking the leather cuffs to free my hands.


	"My bed. On all fours," was Master's simple command.


	Determined to appease, I obeyed immediately, crawling towards
Master's bedroom as the humbler holding my balls hostage prevented me from
walking upright. I followed Master's footsteps like a loyal dog, the tit
weights almost slowed me down. I climbed onto Master's bed and faced the
headboard, my arse presented to the opposite end.


	Master offered me some poppers and I made the mistake of taking 2
liberal hits, as the heady daze accentuated the emptiness in my arse. It
made me hungry for it to be plugged. Ravenous, even. Master kneeled on his
bed behind me and slapped his rock hard cock on my arsehole several times.


	It was very clever, a crafty punishment in itself, as I was gagging
for Master's cock. Minimal effort, maximum impact. Master owned my arse,
but I had no rights to his fuckrod. Simulating a fucking motion, Master
humped my starved hole, but had no intention to initiate penetration. It
riled the depraved fuckpig in me! I was ready for a savage pounding, but
had to contend instead with the pendulum swings of my weighted tit clamps
that sent titillating waves and arsehole.


	"Please, Master," I begged, wriggling my arse.


	Ignoring my plea, Master made an elaborate task of removing the
humbler, perhaps deciding that it was no longer necessary. Then Master
leisurely reached over the nightstand to leave the humbler there while
resting his cock and body on top of me, teasing/punishing me further. More
weights were added to my tit clamps before Master offered me more
poppers. The delay in getting royally fucked by my Nordic prince was more
torturous than the tit abuse I was submitted to earlier.


	Finally Master applied some lube to my hole, long after the extra
poppers hits made me docile. Lost in multiple lewd thoughts, I moaned in
gratitude as Master fingered my hole, followed by a second finger. I was
masochistically watching my engorged tits weighted down when Master
replaced his fingers with his cock, while I edged backwards to urgently get
all of it inside my hole.


	Finally!


	I rocked myself forwards then backwards, impaling myself on
Master's big curved cock and swinging the weights on my nipples, a
cockwhore in heat. Accelerating my speed, I was actively fucking myself
with Master's fuckrod, forgetting completely my place as a submissive
slave. It was incongruent with Master's slow and easy style.


	Yet Master didn't stop me. I looked over my shoulder and saw Master
utterly engrossed, watching his veiny milky-pink cock lasciviously
disappear in my small brown arse. Like a true voyeur, Master spread my arse
cheeks with his hands, giving his monster rod more access to my
slavecunt. Finding myself in bottomslut heaven again, I rode Master's cock
for as long as I was allowed.


	A while later, Master flipped me onto my back and cuffed my wrists
to the headboard. Master did the same with my ankles so that my legs rested
on either side of my slender torso. As I was flexible, my back lay flat
despite being trussed up this way, which gave Master unhindered access to
my fuckhole. In contrast to my hasty impaling earlier, Master then fucked
me in his usual sensual and steady pace.


	I didn't begrudge this. I love being fucked missionary by Master,
as his curved cock fitted perfectly in my narrow arse. In this position,
Master's cockhead rested on my prostate when fully inserted, applying
enough pressure on my G-spot. A slow and steady pace also enhanced and
prolonged the stimulation. Soon enough I started to precum and it pooled
generously on my abs.


	I was slightly relieved that the weights rested on my chest and had
optimal effect on my tits. Just right. Master was lost in his own world
again, enthralled with watching his cock withdrew, then inserted
completely. In turn, I was enamoured by the subtle contractions of Master's
muscles. Gets me every time.


	It dawned on me that this was the first time Master Rewan fucked me
on his bed since I became Masters' fuckslave. Although Master Rewan had
dominated and fucked me in the apartment, it was always in Master Greg's
room in tandem. Also Master Greg had been hogging me every night since. At
the risk of being creepy, I committed to memory every detail of this 1-on-1
moment as memento.


	Master exhaled audibly a few times, an early indication that he
might climax soon. The combination of visual and tactile stimulus proved
too much for Master, as always. Taking his eyes off my boycunt, Master fed
me more poppers, which was the perfect start to what would be quite an
explosive ending.


	In one fluid move, Master stood up while lifting my back from its
horizontal to a vertical position. Lost in a poppers haze, I had no idea
how my body was able to curve this way. Keeping his legs on either side of
me, Master held the back of my knee and to maintain this new posture. In
what I later discovered to be the "butter churner" position, Master
continued to squat-fuck me.


	The extra rush of blood into my head that increased my ecstasy. In
this new stance, Master's cock applied even more pressure to my
prostate. As my cock was aligned directly above my head, my precum started
to dribble on my face. The close proximity made me want to suck my own
cock, opening my mouth and sticking out my tongue in hankering greed.


	This amused Master, as the corner of his lips curled into a smug
satisfied grin. Master played his fuckslave like a fiddle, exerting
complete dominance over me. I caught Master's fervent gaze that enthralled
me. It was just as much a mental control as it was physical, and Master
excelled at both.


	I understood later why Master decided on this position. The angle
of which Master's cock entered my hole was altered and provided more
friction that pleasured his cock further. Eager for a more wholesome view
of his cock pillaging my arse, Master straightened his legs just like he
was doing push-ups, dipping his cock in and out of my hole.


	"Ah yeah, perfect!" cried Master.


	What a sight we must've presented! A blond caucasian master
exerting his rights to use his brown asian fuckslave, in a domineering
fuck-position befitting the master-slave relationship.


	I was amazed by Master's vigour as he easily kept up his fucking
motion. I lost count of the number of push-ups as the movements of Master's
taut body hypnotised me again. I traced my sight from Master's broad
shoulders to his hard pecs crowning a defined abs tapering down to a narrow
V-shaped waist. It was utterly mesmerising watching his muscles tensed and
relaxed in alternate rhythm.


	Straightening his arms, Master pivoted his fucking motion to his
hips, which gave him more precise control. Master could've kept going, and
I wanted him to, but it was a strenuous position for both of us to
sustain. My shoulders started to ache from supporting my body and beads of
sweat formed on Master's body. Perhaps sensing our mutual limits, Master
gave one final thrust and halted.


	Keeping his cock buried completely in my arse, Master leaned
forward to remove all the contraptions from my abused raw tits: the clamps,
weights and rubber rings. Caught off guard, I let out a hoarse groan as
circulation was restored to my tits. Tethering on that sweet point between
extreme pleasure and pain, I reached a new lustful height as the powerful
sensation centred me on the moment: being fucked by a hung stud in bondage.


	It was to become one of Master's signature tricks, one that I
looked forward to whenever Master worked my tits.


	As if to emphasise my predicament, Master resumed his fucking
motion, overloading my small body with electric bolts as I began to
hyperventilate. Letting the excitement fade slightly before pausing again,
Master unleashed his final ruse as he leaned forward and rubbed both my
tits in circular motion, applying more pressure as he went along.


	This sent me on a wild and buckling orgasm, something that I had
never experienced before. My nipples emanated gigantic waves of continuous
pleasure tsunami throughout my body, heightening my poppers haze, all the
way down to my pillaged arse and spitting cock. My whole body was inundated
with an angry frenzied thrill that I could not focus on one particular
source of pleasure.


	For the first time I screamed out as I came! The onslaught on my
nipples triggered my balls to empty torrents of cum that rained straight
down on my face and into my mouth. My ejaculation was so violent that it
shook my body and produced an enormous amount of cum that covered my face
completely and stopped me screaming as it pooled in my throat. Even the
pillow was drenched!


	I had no choice but to swallow them, the salty taste spurred my
cock to shoot out more cum! It felt like an infinite loop that continuously
fed itself. Yes I was a cumcrazed slut always gagging for manseed, but to
savour my own cum was something else altogether.


	But Master's shrewdness was self-serving. The magnitude of my
climax caused my filled arse to clench down on Master's cock in a tight
vise-like grip. Master cried out in triumph, almost laughter-like, as he
bred me with his studjizz. I felt the familiar warmness of Master's cum as
it flooded my tiny arse and slowly leaked out of my crowded boycunt. Some
dripped down my back, while the rest soaked my balls and cock before
trickling down to my awaiting mouth.


	Master's sly tricks paid off handsomely as my arse bolstered
Master's own intense orgasm. I could only imagine the feeling of warm wet
tightness massaging his cock in successive spasmic surges. Master's
skillful manoeuvres left him with precious little to do but sit back and
reap the rewards. What a smooth operator.


	As the last of our carnal spasms peaked and troughed, Master gently
let my arse down and unmounted me. Squeezing the last few pearls of his cum
into my mouth, I waited for no command to clean Master's cock. I swallowed
as much of Master's white fuckrod as I could, eagerly lapping up what's
left of his spunk.


	Spurred on by my voracity, Master flicked my abused tits a few
times, which prompted my slavepussy to spasm again and expelled Master's
cum out. It was a simple yet significant act that exhibited Master's subtle
knowledge and experience that defied his age. Collecting as much as he
could, Master offered the cream to my awaiting mouth, and I licked Master's
fingers clean.


	My tits remained sensitive for days afterwards, an opportunity that
Master wielded with great effect to satisfy our mutual tit fetish.