Date: Thu, 2 Oct 2008 11:02:37 -0700 (PDT)
From: Brad C. <open_minded28@yahoo.com>
Subject: 'Cock Training' {Brad Carody} ( 1st ) [1!1]

Many thanks to Toby for this story idea and for sharing with me some of his
personal experience!

 - Brad

  -----

"So your mistress sent you over."  It was more of a statement than a
question because I had just spent the last 5 minutes explaining all of this
to him.

"Yes, sir" I responded uncertainly.  He was making me extremely nervous.
And not just because he must outweigh me by at least 50 pounds and he
looked like he bench pressed cars for fun.

"Because she thinks I'd be a good cock trainer for you."

Yes!  I shouted in my mind.  Was this all a joke on me or what?  What could
he not understand?!?  Was my mistress just sending me here to humiliate me?
That thought prompted an almost involuntary jerk of my head, as though a
quick scan of the tiny kitchen would reveal a hidden camera she was now
watching me through.  Not that I would put it past her - it's very much
something she would do.  And that is precisely why I had chosen her to be
my mistress.  She was educated, well spoken and extremely intelligent.  I
couldn't imagine myself submitting to a woman that I knew I could out
think.  No, I needed someone who was on her toes and wouldn't let me get
away with anything.

The sharp glance up did not reveal a hidden camera to me.  What it did do
was make me even more uncomfortable than I already was.  Here was
Mr. Clean, a 250 pound plus gorilla of a guy standing a good 4 inches
taller than I.  He had his arms folded casually across his barrel of a
chest and was staring intently at me, as if I were an interesting bug that
he would soon squash under his size 12 loafer.  He was dressed fairly
nicely, a sharp contrast to the severe look his clean shaven head and
piercing gaze provided.

"Well?" he asked, his voice laced with impatience.

"Yes, sir.  She thought that you would be a good cock trainer for me."  I
felt the heat rise in my cheeks and knew that I must be red as a beet now.
My embarrassment and humiliation was peaking again.  Since I had stepped
off the porch and into this man's home, I had gone from a mild nervousness
to varying degrees of discomfort and even fright.  Not only did he look
like he take me apart in seconds, but I fancied that he actually looked
like he wanted to!  I mean here I am, showing up unannounced on his
doorstep per explicit instructions from my mistress.  I'm wearing a
ludicrous pair of ill fitting panties and nothing else.  She allowed me an
overcoat to get me here without an incident with law enforcement, but I was
instructed to drop that at the doorstep when I was asked inside.  Mr. Clean
didn't bat an eye.  I started to explain myself and the reason for my
visit, but he immediately shushed me and just stared.  He looked me up and
down, taking a
 long moment to consider my panties with an utterly unreadable expression.
And here I still stood, my head bowed, my pitiful cock tucked away in pink
silk that looking nothing short of ridiculous on me.

When he had finally asked what I was doing there it was in a tone that made
me think I had interrupted something very important to him.  Perhaps he had
been in the midst of spinning his refrigerator on his little finger.  Or
maybe he was picking his teeth from the meal he'd just made of unwelcome
intruders?  In any case, I immediately was alarmed and concerned for my own
safety.  Perhaps my mistress had thought this an interesting session for
me, sending me to Mr. Clean's house to get the snot beat out of me before
crawling back to her house for more humiliation over my lack of physical
prowess?  I had cast my eyes down then, unwilling to face the condescending
look in his eyes.  He was not particularly handsome, but he was very
impressive and had every reason to feel imperturbably superior to me.  With
his bulging muscles, his sharp jawline, his haughty and piercing eyes,
pressed attire, and a confidence that went with a CEO's position he had
indeed
 made me feel very inadequate the moment I stepped inside.  Having to
explain that I wanted to service a cock and that my mistress had given the
order for me to come to him like this only heightened my embarrassment,
making me wish that I had disobeyed her and taken my punishment for doing
so.  Her devices and sessions would be brutal, but the sting of the flesh
is nothing compared to the sting of this level of humiliation.

While I meekly explained my mission, he had folded his monstrous arms and
stared intently at me, as if trying to discern if this was some sort of
sick joke or not.

He seemed satisfied that he understood my intentions.  I felt his eyes
burning into the top of my skull as my own downcast eyes fixed on the
linoleum of the small kitchen.  Finally he took a step backwards.

"Drop your panties" he said gruffly.  He put just enough emphasis on
'panties' to

show his disapproval of them.

I hesitated for a second too long and immediately knew it was a mistake.

"Now!!" he barked, anger flooding him in an instant.  He was obviously not
accustomed to, nor did he tolerate any form of disobedience.

As I hurriedly hooked my thumbs into the narrow elastic waistband I was
even further dismayed to find that my eyes had teared up.  I didn't think
it was enough to appear more than overly moist, but it was the fact that I
was feeling that emotional and out of control that bothered me so much.
I'm not by nature someone easily dominated.  When I offered sexual control
to my mistress, it was an act of will.  I GAVE her control because I wanted
to let someone else drive for a little while.  The sexual thrill from
visiting her was allowing a woman to lead.  A fair amount of the domination
activities were solid reminders to me that I was hers to play with and do
as she pleased.  It was about her and her pleasure, which in turn really
turned me on!  I had been seeing her for months now in discreet sessions
that my wife knew nothing about.  The rest of my life was about as normal
as could be and no one would ever suspect that I had interest in servicing
a
 dominatrix.  Recently, I had admitted to her (as she roughly squeezed my
balls to remind me that a lie would not be tolerated) that I did want to
experience a cock.  I wanted to see what it was like to suck on one, to try
pleasuring it like I would want someone to do for me.  Would I be able to
deep throat it?  Could I do better than the women who had sucked me in the
past?  What did it taste like?  These thoughts continued to surface
unexpectedly in my fantasies and I began to seriously consider finding out
the answers.  In fact, I also wanted to experience a cock in my ass.  My
mistress had certainly probed my anal cavity with numerous objects, but I
wanted to feel it for real.  I wanted to know what the steely flesh would
feel like, and the natural pumping action of hips instead of her arm.  I
was getting anxious to know if I could feel someone cumming in my ass,
wondering what wonderful sensations that might bring.  I didn't necessarily
consider
 myself bi, and I had no interest in the man attached to the penis.  I
merely wanted to know about his cock!

Today when I showed up for my appointment, my mistress had been very abrupt
and crude, instructing me to get my 'bitch ass' into the silky panties and
then running me out the door, pausing only long enough to run through where
I was to go and what I was to say when I got there.

Now as I pulled the panties down over my knees, I regretted not asking her
more about it, even if it meant a sharp reprisal for my insubordination.

Stepping out of the only covering I had on my body, I stood up and quickly
found the same spot on the floor that I had been so intently considering
before.  I assumed Mr. Clean was examining my limp penis.  I was at least
thankful that I had shaved that morning, which always made it look bigger
to me.  He made some sort of grunt that could have been interpreted in any
number of ways and then instructed me to turn around.  I complied, not
knowing whether he intended to march me out the door in the nude, plant a
foot in my ass for troubling him, or maybe just laugh at me.  I was
absolutely miserable and only wanted this to end.  I wasn't at all
interested in learning about cocks right now, even though I knew that they
would be back in my fantasies as soon as this horrible situation ended.

"Bend over" he grunted.  I head him take a few steps and my heart began to
race as I locked my knees and bent over at the waist.  Frantically I
listened for more clues to his whereabouts and intentions.  It was amazing
to me how fast I hit panic mode when I was exposed and vulnerable like
this.  Especially considering the size of someone like Mr. Clean!  I could
only assume that his dick was about the length and thickness of my arm and
that thought frightened me as I stood with my bare ass to him now.

Was this what was to become of me?  Was this my cock training?  Was I here
to have my ass plundered by this ape?  That was not my idea of training nor
anything remotely fun!  My panic was tinged with a burning anger at my
mistress for putting me here.  Why would she do this to me!?

I felt a large hand on my ass and my heart lept into my throat, all the
warning bells sounding and a jolt of adrenaline fueling my nerves.  I must
have jumped a little too because he growled a soft command to relax.  I
closed my eyes then, fearing the worst and just wanting to get this over
with.  I wondered how much damage a cock could do to an anal cavity and how
long it might take to heal.  I prayed it wouldn't involve a trip to see a
medical professional or I would really have some explaining to do!!

Mr. Clean's hand squeezed my ass cheek, a relatively soft and painless
squeeze.  He had no sooner released his grip when I received a smart slap
in the exact same place.  The smack sounded like the crack of a whip in the
otherwise silent room, but didn't hurt nearly as much as you would think
from that loud of a sound.  He repeated the process for the other ass cheek
and I awaited the feeling of a bulbous shape pressing insistently against
my exposed asshole.  But none came.

"You'll do" was all he said.  It was a bored voice, one that communicated
disinterest and possibly even disappointment.  To my surprise, I was
actually stung by the remark!  Here I was fearing the absolute worst and
ready to bolt for the door and now I'm hurt by the proclamation that I was
marginally acceptable!!!  I was shocked by how quickly my fear dissolved
into indignation.  It was actually a little surreal.

"Turn around" he said, maintaining that same 'I guess I can make do with
you' tone of voice.  I rose and turned to face him, my gaze still glued to
the floor.  Now however, I was staring at bare feet in lieu of the loafers
from a moment ago.  I dared to let my eyes travel upwards, revealing first
his muscular legs and then up to his waist.  He wore only a pair of boxers
now and I became fixated with the front of them, trying to make out the
outline of his cock.  I could tell you that I was doing it out of pure fear
or concern for my well being, afraid that he was harboring a gigantic penis
that he would nearly split me in two with.  But if I were to be honest
about it, I was equally interested in just seeing it!  I suppose interested
is probably a bit of an understatement.  For as worried as I was about him
being too big, I was also very excited about the idea of seeing and
touching one that large.

"Get on your knees, bitch."  I shot an impulsive glance up to his face,
trying to determine his mood.  The word was a harsh one, meant to be
derogatory.  My mistress used it on me frequently to put me in the right
frame of mind - the servant or slave mentality.  I was not surprised to
find no humor in his face, no softening or playfulness.  Just that same
hardened set of the jaw, same probing, expectant eyes, same air of
superiority.  I sank to my knees.

With his hips now at eye level, I returned my focus to his groin, my heart
racing and my nerves causing a tremble in my body that I desperately hoped
didn't show.  I wet my lips, assuming that they would be put into service
right away.  I was only half right.  He surprised me by stepping forward,
closing the distance between us and placing my nose at his waistband.  He
actually bumped into my face and I leaned back just enough to separate us
again.

"No, bitch" was all he said as he placed a hand on the back of my head and
pulled me roughly back against him.  This time the collision of face
against waist wasn't a gentle bump.  It didn't actually hurt per se, but it
wasn't pleasant and the message rang through quite clearly.  He held my
head there for a long moment, my face plastered unceremoniously against
him, half against his warm flesh and the lower half against the cotton of
his shorts.  I was confused.  I wasn't sure what he was doing, much less
what he wanted me to be doing.  I hesitantly reached both arms up to lower
his jockeys.

"No, bitch" rolled off his tongue again, this time much more forcefully.  I
froze, but it was too late.  His hand pressed to the back of my head
grabbed a handful of hair, yanking my head back hard.  My face snapped
upwards and my eyes flew wide open, suddenly on full alert.  He held me
like that while his left hand fumbled with his only remaining clothing.  I
had assumed I was to be struck with that hand and in the seconds that
passed I realized that I had been wrong.  I was terrified to do anything
but stay frozen like that, staring with wild eyes up into his face, my head
cocked back at an uncomfortable angle, making it difficult to swallow.
Accomplishing his task, his left hand now entered my limited range of
vision and his intent became clear as he struck.  In his hand he held his
still semi-soft penis.  With it, he slapped my upturned face.  The first
couple of smacks were small, inconsequential.  I felt his cock strike my
lips, my cheek and my
 nose.  I still couldn't make out size yet, but he definitely did not have
the length or girth to land heavy blows with it.  Heavy blows or not,
intentional or not, when he used his prick to smack my right eye, it did
sting.  Priding myself on being a relatively quick learner, I snapped my
eyelids tightly closed against the assault.  A few more small hits of cock
against face and he pulled my face back against him, trapping his cock
alongside my nose so that the head of it was pressing into my eye socket.
Again not exactly painful, but not at all comfortable, not to mention
blinding!  As his anger dissipated and the discipline passed, time slowed
to a normal pace again and I was able to recover my senses.  During his
'flogging' I had been completely caught up in the moment.  Now I registered
the smell of his skin, the feel of it against my face, and the reality of
the situation.  I was pressing hard against this mans penis, the base of it
somewhere
 around my chin and the crown pushing insistently against my closed eye.
The skin was warm and silky soft.  In a surreal sort of way, it was sort of
pleasant!  Perhaps it was strictly because it was my first encounter with
touching another man's penis.  Or perhaps the pleasure of it was heightened
by the idea that it was far more preferable to being assaulted by him.  In
any case, my body dumped the last of the adrenaline from my blood stream
and I relaxed a little.  I'm not sure if he took this as a sign of
submission or not, but he obviously felt my muscles relax and he let go of
me.  Having learned my lesson, I did not move.

I opened my eyes to see him step away and drop his boxers to the floor.  I
was glad for the opportunity to view his naked body and appreciate it.  I
am not attracted to men, but I do have an appreciation for the male form.
I enjoy a view of a nice cock and I respect how he had built his body to
such a fit and powerful form.  I was pleasantly surprised to find that I
had guessed completely wrong - his cock was very nice indeed, but certainly
not of monstrous size.  In fact, it was similar to my own, though
undoubtedly thicker.  He was semi-hard and when directly facing me had a
noticeable curve in his shaft, pointing the head somewhere left of center.
It stood out from his body, not yet parallel to the floor.  He now circled
me, sidling up on my right side.  Not wanting to invoke his anger again, I
waited patiently, reluctant to even turn my head.  Instead, I followed his
progress with my eyes as best I could.  When he drew close over my right
shoulder
 I again lost sight of him but felt his cock on my ear.  He guided his cock
with his hands, tracing it along my face as you might do with a paintbrush.
He sort of stroked my cheek with it, up and down over and over.  He was
pushing hard enough with it against me that I could feel it growing
stiffer.  As he did this, my thoughts morphed from thinking this very odd
behavior to accepting it and then even to wanting him.

No, that's not entirely accurate.  It wasn't so much that I wanted him to
continue this, but more that I wanted to experience something else.  I was
excited by the feel of a strong cock on my face, but I wanted to do
something with it.  I wanted to look at it and touch it, stroke it and yes,
even taste it.  I really wanted to turn my head to face it, to feel it
against my lips and to see it so closely.  I was not eager to get myself
into more trouble, however, so I resisted the urge.  Instead, I focused on
having this man's cock against my face, how it felt as he dragged it along
my skin, how unique it was in being both hard and soft at the same time.
It was thrilling to finally have a cock up against me after all that
wondering and fantasizing about what it would feel like.  Granted, I hadn't
ever had a fantasy or even a spare thought about having it rubbed
forcefully against my head like this, but it did offer an opportunity for
me to relax more (not
 being threatened by having it shoved down my throat or into my ass).  In
addition, it sparked an odd feeling inside me, one of desire and
anticipation that I found to be completely unexpected!  I knew that I
wanted to try servicing a dick, but I never expected to look forward to it
quite this much!  Even at that moment, I was pretty convinced that
Mr. Clean knew this and that was precisely his motivation behind treating
me as he had.  It was all about dropping me down into a mindset of
servitude, one where I could completely abandon all normal thoughts and
inhibitions.  To place me in an unreal situation, one where I was
completely under someone else's control, and let me experience it from
another perspective.  This would allow me to let go of my personality and
any feelings that might prevent me from thoroughly enjoying the sexual
experience.

Mr. Clean grabbed my hair again, turning my head towards him.  I was
anxious to comply, but most uncomfortable doing it.  Having my head to the
side was fine for looking around, but it was not meant to be a position
held for a long time, especially with someone pushing against you!
Fortunately, with the twist of my head, he stopped rubbing against me.
Instead, he placed the tip of his cock against my nose.  I looked first to
it, then up to him.  His cold eyes revealed nothing so I dropped my gaze
back down to his manhood, which was now pushing against my nose enough to
bend it to the side a little.  I inhaled the clean scent of freshly
showered skin, marveled at how much bigger it looked only inches from my
eyes, and entertained fleeting thoughts of trying to get at it with my
mouth or tongue.

I was beginning to yearn for it now, to really want it inside me in one
capacity or another.  I wanted to know what I could do with it, if I could
make him feel good, to know what it was like to have someone fucking me.

As far back as I could remember, I had wondered what it felt like to be my
wife, to have me driving into her pussy over and over.  Was it pleasurable?
Was it rough or exciting or did it become old and tiresome?  I wanted to
know first hand, to not be in control of the fucking and to let someone
else choose the pace and the position.  To be more passive in the act and
just... feel it.

Mr. Clean lowered his cock agonizingly slowly, raking it down the underside
of my nose and upper lip.

"Put yer tongue out" he commanded.  I obeyed, stretching the tip out to
bridge the distance to his penis as he pulled back a few inches, still
grasping my head and holding it firmly where chin almost rested on
shoulder.  Once more he took prick in hand and began slapping with it, this
time landing each strike against my outstretched tongue.  I became
immediately frustrated by my inability to enjoy this.  I wanted to taste
his cock and these quick blows on my tongue did not afford the opportunity
to taste it.  I wanted to relax and work with it but the awkward position
made this difficult as well.

Finally he swung around in front of me and let go of my head, allowing me
to at least relax my tensed neck muscles.

"Open your mouth" he growled.  I did so, licking my lips first to keep them
moist.  Mr. Clean stood a step away and began to stroke his pole, a slow
and deliberate fist wrapped around it.  I watched with rapt attention as he
slid his hand up and down the shaft, his balls swinging gently back and
forth with the movement.  I don't believe that a professional hypnotist
with a silver medallion could have held my attention better!  It made me
want to try it, to wrap MY hands around that beautiful cock and do that
stroking!

Mr. Clean shuffled forward again, once more bringing his sexy tool to my
lips.

"Tongue out" he barked.  In my trance, I hadn't realized that I had drawn
my tongue back in!  At this point, there wasn't much of anything I was
aware of.  I seemed to be part of a whole other world now, riding along in
someone else's body, a casual observer in a 3D movie or something.
Obediently my tongue slipped out of my mouth and Mr. Clean promptly rubbed
his cock all over it, his skin slick with my saliva it slid effortlessly
around in circles before he took it to my lips, running back and forth
across them, parting them slightly.  He pivoted slightly and placed the
shaft against my tongue and lips.  He put a hand heavily on the top of my
head and began raking it back and forth, supporting his cock in his other
hand, keeping it pressed against my mouth so that my mouth traveled the
length of it, back and forth down the side of his hard-on, lips and tongue
creating a slick trail from tip to base.  I moaned, so close and so anxious
to get it in my
 mouth that I couldn't stand it anymore.

"You need this, bitch."  It was not a question but a statement of fact.  He
knew I wanted it and he knew that I had slipped fully into my fantasy,
dying to service a cock and satisfy the curiosity that had been plaguing
me.

Releasing my head, he twisted back into place before me and pressed the
head of his penis against my lips.  I opened my mouth unhesitatingly,
already my lessons of earlier escaping me.  I wasn't even thinking about
waiting for his instruction because I was on autopilot now, hungry for his
cock and ready to take it in.  If he was upset with my bold disobedience,
he didn't show it.  Instead, he pushed the wonderful tip of his dick into
my mouth.  He slid it in just until I could feel the where the ridges of
the crown met his steely shaft against my upper lip.  My head swam with the
significance of the moment, of being here for the first time after dreaming
of it for so long now.  I felt my pulse racing and adrenaline surged
through me as I closed my mouth around it, feeling and tasting it, my lips
conforming to the contours of it.  I felt a wave of dizziness and I closed
my eyes, relishing the moment and caressing this new found treat with my
tongue.  I
 wanted more, needed more, and I tried to slide my head forward onto his
cock.  He abruptly grabbed my head in both hands and stopped me.

"No, bitch."  He held me there, breaking my moment of bliss and
concentration.  His cock still poised just inside my lips, he slowly
withdrew it an inch and then re-inserted, tiny movements of his hips that
would not allow his cock to fall free of my mouth while he slipped just the
head in and out of my mouth.  From that moment I think I knew that I was
destined to enjoy cocksucking.  I loved the feeling of being under his
control, his demands.  I had become impossibly horny in no time at all and
I reveled at the thought of being able to properly service such a beautiful
organ.  In and out he went, always just an inch or so, maddeningly slowly.
When I began to work my tongue against him, he withdrew completely.  Still
holding my head in his hands, he pulled his prick free of my mouth.  It
promptly stood upwards at full attention and he pulled my face roughly
against it.  He rubbed my head up and down it as if I were nothing but a
cleaning rag to polish
 it with.  Then he pushed me down so that my mouth was against his balls.

"Suck em" he said, shoving my head between his legs.  I tried, using my
tongue to try and sort of corral them into my mouth while I used my hands
to brace myself from toppling over and falling down between his powerful
legs.  I licked and twisted my head as best I could while he held it pinned
in place, but I couldn't seem to get them.  Each time I thought I would be
successful, his testicle would slip away from me, leaving me frustrated and
feeling like a failure.  I had assumed that pleasing a man was going to be
fairly simple and straight forward. I had no idea that there might be
things I would fail at!  Again and again my searching tongue would seek its
target and again and again I would fail to get it into my mouth.  I tried
sucking his nuts into my mouth, but only succeeded in making an obnoxiously
loud slurping noise against his now slick nutsack.  Thankfully, he spared
me further anguish and pulled my head back to a dick sucking position.

"Open" he ordered.  I complied, parting lips to accept my prize.

"OPEN" he repeated loudly.  I opened my mouth further, forming an "O" as if
I were yelling "Owww".

"OPEN!" he shouted at me, inserting his thumb into my mouth and pushing
down on my lower jaw -- hard.  It jerked my mouth open further than it
could stretch and my head tipped down to follow it.  It hurt but I didn't
have time to respond to the pain before he had jammed his cock into my
mouth, his thumb still hooked against my bottom teeth.

"Now hold it there" he growled, removing his thumb and drying it roughly
against my cheek.  My former elation at having his penis in my mouth was
replaced with apprehension.  I must have disappointed him with my failure
at sucking on his balls and I feared now that he would take it out on my
mouth, turning my enjoyment into something to punish me with.  I struggled
to keep my already aching jaws open as wide as possible while he continued
to slide his dick into it.  I knew I wouldn't be far from gagging and I
wanted to be able to close my mouth against that a little.  Pleadingly I
looked up at him, but his full attention was on the sight of his member
disappearing slowly into my mouth.  With my mouth open so far, I couldn't
really feel his dick, just the tip of it sliding along the roof of my
mouth.  As he went deeper, he also slowed.  By the time he had reached the
back of my tongue, he had nearly stopped.  I felt better about not gagging
now, but the
 joints of my jaws really hurt and were an unwelcome distraction for me.
He parked himself there for a long moment, almost his entire shaft in my
mouth, the tip resting dangerously close to a spot I was sure would cause a
violent gag reflex for me.  Nasty images of gagging and possibly even
throwing up worried me and I was struggling to keep my mouth open now.  It
was starting to close, seemingly of its own accord and I gave in, the pain
of any retribution from him presumably easier to handle the throbbing in my
jaws.

He must have expected this, because he didn't punish me for it.  Instead,
he let me relax and just hold my prize in my mouth, relaxing as much as I
could around it.

When the pain in my jaws subsided, I turned my attention to the thick organ
in my mouth.  I began to explore it a little, feeling it with my tongue and
closing my lips onto it, enjoying the feeling of it in spite of my little
ordeal.  Mr. Clean let me suck on him for a moment, not really moving my
head but literally sucking on him like I might with a piece of candy.  He
relaxed his grip on my head and adopted more of an encouraging pressure,
beginning to push and pull my head onto and back off of his cock.  He did
this slowly, allowing me to use my tongue and tight lips to increase
stimulation and exploration, giving me a chance to begin enjoying him
again.  I was falling into his rhythm, tilting my head slightly to one side
and trying to see his face, to get an idea of how much this might be
pleasing him.  As soon as I did, he stopped me, holding my head lightly but
firmly and taking over, fucking my mouth instead of using my head to make
me suck him.

This required more concentration from me, as I nearly gagged with each
stroke, his cock driving into the back of my mouth and towards my virgin
throat.  For as much as it detracted from my ability to just enjoy this, I
was also highly interested in getting over my gag reflex.  Not to mention
the fact that I was thrilled with the idea of him fucking my mouth and
finally being able to see what giving up that control felt like!  Again I
settled into a rhythm and again he broke it.  First he pressed his
beautiful fuck stick all the way into my mouth, my lips pressed against him
on one side and the fat tip tickling my throat at the other.  My gag reflex
did kick in and with force.  My chest heaved, my throat tightened up and
that uncontrolled wretch racked my mouth.  My eyes streamed and I fought to
pull my head back off of him.  He held me very tightly for a second, and
then let go.  As he popped free of my mouth I was simultaneously relieved
and saddened.
 That was not how I wanted to overcome my gagging!  I had pictured my
training as being much slower and more gentle, of repeated tries until I
could manage it.  Not this!  And yet somehow, this was perfectly
acceptable.  The way that he was controlling me, dominating me, it took all
of the responsibility off of me.  If I couldn't perform, it could be blamed
on him and his forcefulness, not necessarily on my lack of skills.  I
didn't have long to think about it though, because already he was pulling
on my hair, pulling me down to the floor on hands and knees.

He rose and crossed the room and instinctively I knew what was happening.
Even before I saw the tube in his hands, I knew that it would be lubricant.
He took the expected position behind me and I heard the gel being squirted
from the tube onto his hands.  Then the cold gel was on my asshole, his
finger working it all around and just inside.  More squirting and the sound
of it being rubbed against skin.  A knot rose in my throat and I awaited
the pain, my body tense.

But it didn't come.  He spread my ass cheeks with his big hands and I felt
the head of his dick against my slippery asshole.  But no pain.  No quick
thrusts.  Instead, he merely poked at it, probably not enough to penetrate
even a little.  If it did, I couldn't feel it.  I felt his insistent
bumping, his cock hitting its target over and over, pushing against me
until I knew that his penis bent and slipped off my hole.  I began to relax
just a little because this was truly pleasurable.  I loved the feeling of
him against the pucker of my bunghole, it was both relaxing and also
extremely sexual.  Mr. Clean changed position slightly and now used one
hand to separate my ass cheeks, his other holding his cock.  He rubbed it
up and down, much like he had done on my face, but now crossing the
sensitive skin of my asshole.  Soon it changed again and now he was just
pressing against me.  I felt myself open to him and a stab of panic ran
through me.  I needn't
 have worried because he didn't go any further, just sort of parked it
there.  With the tip of his cock now lodged in my ass, he let go of the
shaft and brought his palm smartly against my right ass cheek.  It was
sudden and most unexpected, causing me to flinch and grunt.  This landed me
another slap, equally as hard and in the exact same spot.  The flesh there
was hot and stung fiercely.  While I was focused on this and anticipating
another blow, Mr. Clean pushed his thick cock a little further into me.  A
bright flash of pain shot up from my anal cavity but was just as quickly
overshadowed by another slap.  While the sting abated, Mr. Clean began to
shift his hips a little, working his dick in and out of my ass much like he
had started with my mouth - just an inch or so in either direction.  Within
seconds this had become pleasurable and I was again relaxing and enjoying
it.

Mr. Clean paused, his manhood pressing against my prostate, causing mild
discomfort but not too bad.  I was back to thinking about how I had a dick
in my ass and how I had been looking forward to this, eager to understand
how it felt and what I would think of myself once in the position.  I
decided that I felt just fine with it!  Being Mr. Clean's bitch didn't seem
to have a thing to do with me or my life.  It made no proclamations about
who I was or what I was about.  All it really said, I decided, was that I
had found a sexual practice that I enjoyed and that made me feel good.  If
I could leave the rest of my life behind for a little while and have fun
with a stiff cock in my butt, then so be it!

Having this new attitude and discovery fresh in mind, I began to slowly
rock my own hips a little, slowly backing towards and then away from him,
taking his penis just a little deeper each time.  Several times I paused,
the pain sharp and bright again.  These moments passed quickly though, as
neither of us pushed this part quick enough to cause severe pain.
Eventually there was a noticeable 'pop' as he slid into me, and an
accompanying flash of pain.  Again he held perfectly still and again the
pain passed quickly.  As the seconds ticked by and I fully relaxed again, I
was suddenly very anxious to have him fucking me.  I was absolutely
thrilled to have a live cock inside me and I was eager to feel it to the
fullest, including having him pump me full of his hot cum!!!  I lowered
myself to my forearms, raising my ass to him.  He grabbed a hold of my hips
and began to slowly fuck me, still allowing me to get used to his dick
inside me.  I felt no more
 pain after that and the pleasure surpassed all that I had imagined and
hoped it would!  I reached down between my legs while balancing on the
other arm and I began to stroke my own dick -the first I had touched it
since arriving here.  I was as hard as a rock, my balls swinging gaily as
he thrust into me again and again.  He was now burying his dick the full
length inside my ass, his hips slapping against my butt with each stroke.
He varied his fucking and continually tried different depths and speeds,
but I really enjoyed the hard, fast fucking.  Feeling him slam up against
me, his sword buried to the hilt inside me, that was what really got me
going.  At one point, Mr. Clean was plowing into me with a rapidity that
bordered on inhuman.  The sensations that produced in my body were so
intense that I nearly came without even touching my dick.  I'm convinced
that I would have, too, if he hadn't suddenly slowed again.  I loved that
feeling of fullness in
 my ass and in my belly and I didn't want it to end!

Eventually Mr. Clean worked up to full speed again and I heard him grunt.
It dawned on me that he was about to cum and I did my best to tighten up my
rear end for him, hoping that it would feel like I was really milking his
cock for him.  He shot deep inside me and continued thrusting, my insides
immediately slicker as he filled me with his cum.  He slowed to a halt and
then just rested inside me for a moment, presumably to catch his breath and
slow his racing heart.  I was exhausted from the experience but absolutely
thrilled with it.  For as different as I had pictured it being, I don't
think I would have changed a thing.  As soon as he had withdrawn from me,
he got up and fetched a few paper towels, throwing them to the floor in
front of me.

"Clean yourself up."  I couldn't believe my ears and I sat there stunned,
my mouth hanging open.  His voice carried none of the earlier derision or
sharpness.  It was the mild tone of a casual conversation, completely
normal and 100% opposite of how he had spoken to me previously.  He saw the
shock on my face and smiled a genuine, warm smile.  The eyes that had been
so cold, so angry before were now warm and accepting.

"Wha-" I began but didn't finish.

His smile broadened.  "Aw, that wasn't real!" he exclaimed.  "Your mistress
is an old friend of mine.  She called and asked me to do the favor.  She
said to be ruthless and bullying.  But that's not how I really am."

I remained in shocked silence as I began to wipe myself clean.  I really
wasn't sure what to feel!  In a way I suddenly felt much safer with this
hulk of a guy, but I was also a little angry at the deception.  Being
dominated was thrilling, but it wasn't how I had pictured my first
experience.  I had always fantasized about a slow seduction and a mutually
pleasurable experience.  Mr. Clean sensed my emotions and tried again.

"Listen," he said.  "Let me make it up to you.  Use the bathroom over there
and get yourself all put back together.  Then meet me in the bedroom and
we'll start all over and do this properly."

He had a gleam in his eye and a mischievous smile on his lips.  I was still
reeling from this new development, but I slowly nodded my head in
agreement.

"Ok" I finally managed.  I crossed the kitchen and slipped into the
bathroom, wondering what kind of "first time" I was about to experience!