Date: Sat, 18 Jul 2015 22:47:28 +0000 (UTC)
From: J M <jm08nyc@yahoo.com>
Subject: Love & Submission - Chapter One (Authoritarian Category)

It's been awhile since I've written.
This story is full of fun kinks. I hope you enjoy it.
Would love to hear what you think. And if you'd like me to continue it.

jm08nyc@yahoo.com

#####

My cheek flared with embarrassment only slightly cooled by the cool pane of
glass it was being pressed against. My mind raced with the thoughts of who
could see in the window from the other side, not realizing that at fourteen
stories up the odds of anyone seeing in the blazing lights of the windows
was slim.

I brought my mind back to the moment and re-focused my attention on my body
as I felt his hands slide up my back and grab my shoulders, continuing to
pile drive me from behind. He took control so easily - I gave him control
so quickly.

My body was slick with sweat and he had to hold my shoulders extra tight,
so that he wouldn't lose momentum, or risk me breaking through the window
with the force he was pushing into me.

Hard. So hard. I didn't know I could take it like this. But from the moment
that I met him a few weeks before, I knew that I wanted to give him
everything I had - and more - and push my mind & my body past any limits I
had set for myself.

And then, a momentary pause, and his hand moved from my shoulder to my
hair, and pulled me roughly back against him, his other arm wrapping around
my chest, his cock never leaving my ass. His mouth brushed against my left
ear - I could feel his breath, hot and harsh, against the side of my face.

"You are mine. Now & forever. Your body. Every inch of it belongs to me,
exists for me, is devoted to me," he whispered into my ear. Even his
whisper had strength and domination in it - there was no doubt of his place
in the world, or his place in my world. I was his.

***

Three weeks earlier...

I got home from a workout extra horny - I hadn't had sex in close to six
months, and seeing the hard bodied studs at the gym was always a turn on. I
was aching to be touched.

For tonight, it was up to me. Again.

I stripped off my gym clothes and left them in a pile on the bathroom
floor, and laid down in the tub, taking my sweaty and used jockstrap with
me. I left myself look down at my body as I lay there - hard, firm,
muscular - a solid six foot tall jock boy, perfectly cut chest and abs - I
worked on them relentlessly. Strong legs, a firm butt. A long, thick cut
cock. I was the perfect example of a great body not equaling a great sex
life. Thirty years old and I had yet to find a match. Mentally or
physically.

I pulled the jock to my face and inhaled. I loved the scent, and it made my
dick stir. I wrapped the straps around my ears, my nose covered by the
pouch. Remnants of sweat, piss and cum - all my own - filling my
nostrils. I let my eyes close as my hands dropped to my crotch. One playing
with my balls, the other feeling the thickness of my dick.

I positioned my cock so it laid against my abs pointing straight up, took a
deep, long breath, and let my piss start to flow.

It coated my abs, my chest, mingling with my sweat to matte down the light
dusting of brown hair that was spread across my body. I used my hands to
massage it in. It struck the jock. And my mouth.

Another deep, long breath. Relax. Decompress. I used some of the piss that
had puddled on my abs to lube my now hard dick as I began to stroke. Up and
down. Grinding my cock into my hand. The smell of sweat, piss, and precum
making me heady.

Harder I stroked, imagining this hard bodied daddy I saw at the gym bending
me over in the locker room. Fucking me roughly. And dumping his load inside
me.

My cock ached. A few more quick strokes and my cum was flying. Smashing
onto my pecs, hitting my forehead, and coating the pouch of my jock which
was still covering my face. My breath ragged. I sighed deeply.

A let out a long, low moan... "fuck."

Pulling the jock from my face I slid it down my body, letting it soak in
the piss and cum until I reach my dick and used it to squeeze the last few
drops of spunk from the tip of my cock.  I scooped up the cum that had
landed on my chest and licked it off my fingers, and then curled up in the
fetal position and passed out.

I woke up to my phone buzzing in my gym bag, left where I had dropped it on
the bathroom floor. I groggily reached an arm out over the edge of the tub
and pulled it towards me, fishing the phone from the pocket, and realizing
I had only been asleep for a couple of hours.

The phone flashed with a notification, letting me know that I had a new
message on a hook-up app that I had signed up for a few days earlier. I set
the phone back down, sat up, turned on the bath, and cleaned myself up.

***

Laying in bed a few hours later I went back to that notification, pulling
it up on my phone.

I had signed up for the app based purely on curiosity - it was one devoted
to kink, which while I had dabbled in it on my own, had never been part of
a relationship (sexual or otherwise) I had with another man before.

I broke up with Anders a year earlier, and I hadn't dated or slept with
anyone since. Anders was probably the nicest guy I ever dated - a tall,
gorgeous Swedish guy I met while in Barcelona on vacation two years
prior. We had an instantly strong connection, we had a blast while
traveling, and a lot of fun fucking. I was living in London at the time and
Anders was sowing his wild oats. He came back to London with me, and sowed
his oats in me for the next two years.

We had fun. But it was never anything more than fun. There was no true,
deep emotional connection. No real desire for something long-term. We
lurched along from one party, event or gathering to the next, always
following back on our physicality when things turned too serious.

Eventually, enough was enough. I wanted something more, knew that I
deserved something more, and Anders wasn't the one to give it to me.

In the last year, while single, I had been exploring the ideas and
possibilities of kink more and more - there was literally nothing I
couldn't find on the internet and so much of it piqued my curiosity. I
bought some gear, and tried many things out on myself.

In fact, even now, as I laid in bed flicking through the app and debating
whether or not to respond to the man's message, I had a butt plug firmly
inside me. Filling me in a way I didn't know I could be filled.

I went back to the message again.

His username was David. Who knows if that's a real name or not. I was
skeptical about everything on these apps, but at the same time, I ached for
something more.

David.  35 years old.  British.  An architect.

Had lived in Rome for the last four years, so - longer than me - and split
his time between the city and the country.

He only had one photo on the app - a simple, professional headshot - he was
dressed in a tux & clearly had been attending some sort of fancy
function. Unlike most people who seemed to have half a dozen photos of
themselves in various sexual positions and forms of dress.

I, similarly, only had a single photo of myself. Taken last spring on a
vacation in the Bahamas. I was tan, relaxed and happy.

His description was pretty short & sweet. He was "looking for the one."

No details of his sexual proclivities. No demands of the person who might
have sex with him. No specific expectations.

And his message was equally as short & sweet. "Welcome to Rome, we'll have
a drink Thursday at 830pm."

It wasn't a question. Not a suggestion it. It felt like... like a
command. And, as I read it for the 50th time, I could feel my cock stir and
my ass squeeze the plug tightly.

***

He was waiting in the bar for me when I walked in - I double-checked my
watch to make sure I wasn't late... no, he was early. With two glasses of
wine waiting on the bar counter for us.

He had a wide, handsome smile and pulled me close as we hugged hello.

The evening was... lovely. Good wine, better conversation, he seemed like
an all around great guy. It felt like a date - a really good date. Not the
pretense to a "hook up" but the pretense to
something... potentially... more.

We talked about life and work and travel and everything in between.

The chemistry between the two of us was undeniable.

A few hours later and he was walking me home - I had only lived in Rome a
couple of months and wasn't completely sure how to make it home, drunk,
from a strange bar in a new part of town.

And then, he was a gentleman, a kiss goodnight on my doorstep. And a gentle
wish for "good night."

No sex. Nothing even approaching sex. Which, actually, was okay.

***

But, then, I didn't hear from him the day after, or the day after
that. Three days after our date I sent him a text - "Had a great time the
other night, let's do it again soon."

No response. For three more days. I had basically given up on him
responding, chalked how well our date went up to chance, and was preparing
to move on - disappointed, but resilient.

And, then, a message - "I haven't been able to stop thinking about
you. Please come to my place this evening at 930pm - I would like to talk."

Again, the command.

I had dinner plans with some coworkers, which I begged off of - I was a
little surprised at how easily I responded to his demands after days of
annoyance at not hearing from him.

I rang his bell promptly at 930pm and was buzzed into his building - a
gorgeous old palazzo that had been turned into luxury apartments. His house
took up the entire fourth floor and I found myself stepping off the
elevator and directly into his apartment.

He was waiting.

"Hello, James, I'm so glad that you decided to come over," he said lowly as
he walked towards me, embracing me in a firm hug. He was just slightly
taller than me, with sandy blonde hair and fair features, we were virtually
the same size, but I felt small in his arms.

"David, hi, I'm happy to see you again, I had such a nice time with you the
other evening, but then when I didn't hear from you, I got nervous that
maybe you weren't interested..." I couldn't stop the words from pouring out
of my mouth, rambling and barely coherent and more than a little nervous.

I'm sure he could sense me shaking slightly in his arms and held me
tighter. I liked the feeling.

"Our time together the other evening," he responded, "was very nice
indeed. It's rare to meet someone who I'm so compatible with - I felt a
strong connection to you on a personal, intellectual level. Tonight, I'm
hoping that you'll be open to seeing if we have a strong connection on a
physical, sexual level."

We made eye contact, and I'm sure he could see my surprise. He was forward
there was no doubt about that. And in control. I didn't know what to say,
so i just maintained eye contact and gave a small nod "yes."

He smiled broadly. Kissed me firmly. And, then, unexpectedly, moved his
hands to my shoulders and pushed down, forcing me to fall to my knees.

Not breaking eye contact, David said, "And now we'll begin."

***

An hour later and I was breathing raggedly, struggling against the ropes
that held me bound against the bench. My heart racing. He had left me like
this for what felt like forever, but was probably no more than five
minutes. After he spent twenty minutes inspecting my body from head to toe
- poking, prodding, commenting - all while I was instructed to remain
perfectly still and silent - he led me down the hall and into a dark room
with the bench in the middle.

He laid me face down, and bound my arms and legs to the legs of the bench,
rope bound my stomach against the bench, and he had pulled my cock and
balls out from underneath me, so they stuck out between my legs - he had
wrapped a rope around the base of my cock and balls and would tug it
intermittently as continued to feel up every inch of my body.

If there was any doubt about whether I was turned on, my cock answered it
with a resounding "yes" - it hurt I was so hard, it throbbed against the
binding, and it dripped precut all over the bench.

Finally I could see his feet underneath me, could feel his presence
standing over me, and - without warning - heard the sound of air and the
hard smack of his palm as he landed his palm firmly on my right cheek. I
screamed.

As much as I had fantasized about a moment like this, I had never
experienced it, and being spanked by this incredibly gorgeous, controlling,
intelligent man caught me a little off guard.

That first scream would be my last. He leaned down next to me, his mouth
against my ear, and whispered, "you will take this. You will show me how
well you can take this. I will view another scream like that as a sign that
you are not interested in continuing, and I will kick you out and will
never see you again."

He began to beat my ass, smack after smack, for what felt like an
eternity. My ass hot and hurt.

Eventually, he slowed, then stopped. His face again next to my ear, his
whisper, "I'm incredibly turned on by you right now. You've taken more than
I had anticipated you would. Your ass looks amazing - bright red, so firm,
and so beautiful."

His voice. His words. They made my dick harder. I felt proud of myself. I
wanted to prove myself to him. I wanted him to feel that way about every
inch of my body & mind. I wanted him for myself.

***

It was about six hours later that he finally began to fuck me, bent over in
front of the window. He told me that he wanted the world to see what a slut
I was, how much of a faggot I was for his cock. And he wanted them to know
how turned on that made him, how he wanted the world to see that I belonged
to him and that we were beautiful together.

The entire experience had been challenging and thrilling.

Even now as he fucked me against the window.

His breath growing more rapid, harsh. He was close. He pushed my face back
against the window. And resumed his long, hard strokes. His nine inch,
thick dick pushing in and out of my tight hole. Harder, faster.

And, then, the moment we had been building towards, I could feel his cock
pulsing inside me - his shots of cum caught in the condom he was wearing -
I was left to imagine what it would've felt like flying freely inside me. I
was completely absorbed in the moment. He continued to rock himself in and
out of me as he came down from the high of his orgasm.

He pulled me back into him as he slid his cock from my ass and turned me
around to face him.

He kissed me, passionately, deeply. And held me close to him.

He opened his eyes to look directly into mine, and with his lips barely
brushing mine said slowly, "James, you are an incredibly beautiful man,
you're the first man I've met in years who has turned me on so much -
mentally and physically. I'm so excited to have met you, and so excited to
get to know you more. And, I'm excited to help you become the submissive
that I can tell you want to become."

I really didn't know what to say, here was this beautiful man, who had
basically used me for the last seven hours, beating me, playing with,
fucking me - he was essentially professing his love for me. It was a wild
ride.

"Yes, okay," was about all I could manage back. He laughed gently.

He led me into the bathroom, drawing a bath and then pulling me in with
him. He bathed me, making sure that every inch of me was clean and perfect,
caring gingerly for my well used ass - cheeks & hole. And then he wrapped
his fist around my cock and began to stroke it - I was still rock hard - I
had been for hours. And there, in the tub, laying against his powerful
body, with his hand on my cock and the other playing with my nipples, I had
the most intense orgasm of my life. He stroked me relentlessly, working
every drop of cum out of me, until I was exhausted, expended, and
incredibly satisfied.

TO BE CONTINUED?