Date: Wed, 6 Sep 2006 11:44:59 +0200
From: Julian Obedient <julian.obedient@gmail.com>
Subject: Nipple Sluts

He was a nipple slut. You couldn't tell by looking at him. He looked
like a regular guy, well-built --very well built, lean, muscular,
lithe, and graceful. He was on the basketball team and the swimming
team. He was studying to be an architect. He was entirely masculine,
all-male. Around Columbia, he dressed like a slob, baggy jeans,
backwards baseball cap, floppy faded t-shirts, dirty sneakers.

Weekends, once it got warm, he went down to Greenwich Village. Coming
up the steps from the Seventh Avenue IRT at Sheridan Square he pulled
his black t-shirt off, stuffed it in his back pocket and walked slowly
on Christopher Street and the surrounding streets in tight jeans
without a shirt, bare-chested, bareheaded, leather boots. Sometimes
when he pulled off his t-shirt, he had on underneath it a skin-tight
sleeveless elastic black shirt cut low in the front to reveal his
nipples. Head erect, eyes cast down, he was hot and proud and ready to
burst.

He belongs to any man who handles him by the nipples. He does not have
a permanent master. He gives himself promiscuously to every man who
knows how to take him. After the scene he vanishes, doesn't even make
a pretense of exchanging phone numbers.

With each new guy, it's a new experience. So he can do the same thing
over and over because he knows how to keep it new.

He's muscular and tough, lithe and lean, forbidding and
unapproachable, unless you dare ignore the image and take hold of his
nipples. Then his eyes lose focus; he swoons, and you can take him
home all night long.

 * * *

I met him at Crazy Benny's on a Friday night around midnight. Place
jammed. Juke box blaring:

It was August. It was hot. He wasn't the only guy without a shirt. I
saw him looking at my chest. He'd worship me before the night was
gone.

I pushed up against him in the crowd and groped him, pressed my chest
to his so that our nipples touched.

You're my prisoner, I whispered in his ear.

I surrender, he said.

Without a struggle? I said.

Do you want me to struggle? he asked.

Not that it'll do you any good, I answered. Let's get out of here.

I led him to the exit holding the little chain that was clasped to his
bare nipple.

The sky was heavy above us outside and the air was hot with electric
charges. A storm was coming to break summer's back. But not yet.

 * * *

He had evil eyes and I couldn't resist staring into them.

You're making me crazy for you, you know.

I know. I want you to be. Keep gazing into my eyes and feel how much
you want me, how much you want my hands all over your body, my tongue
in your mouth, my cock all the way up inside you, gushing semen into
you.

That's exactly what I want, to have your seed inside me, to be yours,
to be controlled by you.

Quiet now. Obey me. Keep gazing into my eyes. Touch my nipples.
Worship my nipples.

I began to lick his nipples and then let my lips join my tongue, and
licking became kissing, and kissing became devotion. I was swooning
with joy. He threw his mouth upon mine and kissed me with frenzy and I
was inflamed and responded just as frenziedly.

* * *

In the morning he didn't jump at the idea of our seeing each other
again. He was in a wife beater and jeans and I was only in a pair of
black briefs.

Look, babe, he took hold of me by my nipples, gently and drew me to
him and kissed me tenderly and then said with real affection, I'm into
one night stands. You should understand that. It's nothing personal.

I knew that once he was out that door with a sweet good-bye and a kiss
that was just an invitation to yearning, I'd never meet him again or
make love with him again. All my life to come became meaningless.

* * *

I kept his eyes in contact with mine and I reached through waves of
tremulous desire and took hold of his nipples. My breathing was in
tune with his, and I started to make the breaths in and out a little
deeper, a little longer and in this way to tune his breathing to mine.

His breath followed mine.

It feels so good to follow me. It feels so good to have me lead. It
feels so easy. It feels so friendly. It feels so warm. Follow me.

Follow me.

As I spoke I played with his nipples, with my fingers alternately
caressing and pinching. He had dropped his hands to his sides. His
neck was thrown back; his eyes, shut.

I maneuvered him gently to the couch and propped him up in a supine position.

Listen to me, I whispered. Can you hear me? Speak.

Yes, he said in a blur. I can hear you.

You are in a deep trance now. It is so easy to obey me. You want to
obey me. It feels good to obey me. You want me to control you, to
dominate you, to command you, to tell you what to do and how to be, to
be the lord of your nipples.

Open your eyes.

He was gazing into mine.

I took hold of his nipples again and he swooned as in a trance.
Softly, I said, I am your master. You know that. I am your master. You
are my slave. You exist in order to please me, to obey me and to serve
me. I am the master of your nipples. You expand your chest to feel my
fingers pinch and twist and pull and own your nipples.

Yes.

Yes, sir, he said.

I increased the pressure with which I rubbed his nipples and brought
his mouth to mine and forced it open. He offered no resistance but
yielded by reciprocation. Our bodies pressed together and I felt the
strength of his chest. Sliding my hand inside his jeans, I grasped his
balls from underneath and his cock stood out hard when I tore down the
zipper.

Slowly I rubbed the crown of his cock passing my thumb over his slit.

Slave, I said.

Yes, master, he said.

We spent the night worshipping each other's nipples with kisses, with
licking, with brushing and pinching. We gazed into each other's eyes
and exchanged our eternal substance.

* * *

Afterwards he slept. I watched him with pride: I had subdued such a
lion and made him my captive and my slave, had taken command of his
nipples.

He lay on his belly and the undulous form of a muscular body and
velvet bronze skin, of back and butt and head and neck and legs drew
me forth. I straddled him and whispered in his ear, Turn over.

I stuck my fingers in his mouth and made him gag and with his saliva
and wet his nipples and then with more saliva began to masturbate our
cocks which I held in my fist against each other. With the other hand
i rubbed my own nipples.


Lightening shattered me and I bit down hard on his nipple and felt the
violence of his eruption as his electricity jumped beyond the wire and
shook his entire body. Mine shook too and our mouths joined and our
breaths became one current running through us both.

* * *

Naked but for a black thong he placed an espresso in front of me and smiled.

Did what I think happened last night really happen^Åhe paused and added
slyly, Sir?

What do you think happened, slut?

He grinned.

I think you got all the way under my skin, sir, and made me your slave^Åsir.

My lover, not my slave, I said.

But when I noticed how his face had fallen in disappointment at my
contradiction, something hit me.

For a minute, I gave in.

My lover and also my slave, I said.

I was sorry I said that. It was false. It actually had been a matter
of love for me. He was still managing to get away from me even after
I'd gotten him. That's what it meant for him to be a slave.

I felt myself turn dark.

First, I was just sad.

I was stuck with a feeling of emptiness. I knew that I had just
suffered an irreparable loss and it could never be recouped.

Then I felt a sense of power flood me. Its source was anger at the
betrayal of the love I offered. If I weren't going to be a victim, I'd
be an executioner.

My response to his evasion took the form of grim determination. My
hands clenched into fists. I realized that domination was essential,
that only those who possessed what they desired were alive. And I knew
the only way to possess him was to control him. And now I only wanted
to possess him in order to get rid of him, to free myself from the
hold he had on me, from the grip he had on me because I could not have
him as an equal and a lover, because I could not get that grip on him.

So he got his way. I would be his master. Nothing of love would be involved.

Except that you are bound to me, I said, by my power over you, telling
him how it was, you are free in every other way. But you are mine --
my nipple slave . You will never stop being a nipple slut.

All I have to do is touch your nipples, brush them ever so lightly and
you go into a trance, shaking with desire to serve me and please me.

However far you stray, whoever else touches you, and you will want
many to touch you, and they will, with painful desire, you'll always
return to me. And when I don't touch you, no matter who else does, it
will never be enough.

             =========================

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