In Defense
by Buckaroo Bonzai

	ThereÕs a movie called ŅDefending Your LifeÓ in which Albert 
Brooks stands before an afterworld jury and defends the various 
decisions heÕs made in his lifetime on earth. A suitable title for this little 
treatise might be ŅDefending My Lifestyle,Ó as it places me before a jury 
of readers and challenges me to explain how an average family man can 
so quickly embrace a life of carnal depravity. How I could spend an entire 
evening naked, on my knees, before a semi-nude woman, desperately 
hoping to be rewarded for good behavior with a sexual act that is so 
degrading that most men cringe to even think of it?
	That it happens so rarely as once a month would not be perceived 
as pertinent to the jury. That it occurs strictly (with rare exceptions) at 
my behest wouldnÕt figure into a strong defense. What are most 
interesting, most spellbinding, and most shocking, are the actual acts that 
are performed. The why is discarded in favor of the what. The who is 
given over to the how. Yet since it is my defense, you must hear the why 
and the who to get to the what and the how. Suffer through it.
	The example day in question could best be described as brutal. No 
moment was without turmoil. No decision had less than long-term 
consequences. I balanced between a rush of creative energy and outright 
despair. There was no hope that the simple ride home would dissipate 
these violent energies. I needed something else.
	After a quick phone call to my wife Lynn I was able to relax a bit. 
Relief would soon be mine. SheÕd agreed to an evening together. And her 
parents would surely agree to take the kids overnight. WeÕd need an 
empty house for this adventure. 
	I made it through the rest of the day holding her promise to me as 
one would a life preserver. The day, the conflicts, the traffic, all receded 
into the haze as I focused on the upcoming events. How would it unfold? 
How would my wife react? I knew how I would act, simply because I 
wanted to throw the whole of myself into the role. But to get it hitting on 
all cylinders, both participants need to buy into the script. I was ready. 
Was she?
	Before I walked in the front door, I exhaled sharply. The 
anticipation had my body and mind tingling. I was ready to start. But I 
knew from experience that Lynn might not start right away. She might 
make me wait, letting me suffer from my own expectations. It all 
depended upon how interested she was in playing this game. Whether she 
was doing this with me or for me. Two steps into the house I had my 
answer. Sort of.
	As I hung up my coat in the closet, Lynn stepped into the foyer. I 
knew what was coming before she even said it. ŅStrip. Now.Ó
	
	Were you to take a quick look at my life, you would come away 
with a feeling of simple, predictable normality. I am the father of two, 
and have been married to the same woman for about 13 years. I own 
(with the help of the bank) one house, two cars, a time-share vacation 
home, and the various material goods that comprise Ņthe good life.Ó My 
wife is attractive, understanding and forgiving, an excellent mother and a 
fine person to share a life with. My job, however, I wouldnÕt wish on 
anyone. ItÕs a pressure-cooker, requiring split-second decisions upon 
which thousands of dollars and many livelihoods might ride. A good 
week is one in which the number of jobs I destroy, the number of families I 
devastate, is equaled by the number of jobs I help create. Lately, the latter 
hasnÕt even come close to equaling the former. In my job I experience the 
same adrenaline rush every day that a police officer, fireman or soldier 
might experience, but without the attendant heroic feeling.
	On the surface: normality. Below the surface: a seething cauldron 
of doubts, insecurities, plans and desires, all brought to a boil by intense 
stress and pressing responsibilities. ItÕs the responsibilities that take the 
greatest toll. So many rely upon me for so much, and IÕve yet to learn the 
art of diverting the negative aspects. In short, I am emotionally connected 
to every decision, for better or worse. Over the long haul, itÕs made me 
anxious, testy, and not just a little bit frantic. I need decompression Š 
serious decompression.
	When faced with similar situations, some guys turn to alcohol or 
drugs. Some engage in contact sports, or work out until theyÕre quivering 
puddles of sweat. Some spend weeks in the company of other men, 
hunting, gambling, drinking and competing. Some paint letters on their 
chest and stand outside in freezing weather cheering on their favorite 
football team. Some get into fights for the pure thrill of it. Most are trying 
to build up an adrenaline high , so they can burn off their troubles as their 
body burns off the adrenaline. TheyÕre taking control of their emotions by 
channeling it through their bodies. 
	That doesnÕt work with me. I need less adrenaline. Less 
competition. Less involvement. Simply put, I need less control. This is the 
best way that IÕve discovered so far.
	
	I quickly pulled off all my clothes, leaving them in a pile on the 
floor. The wrinkles or dirt on my wardrobe would be of no concern to my 
wife. She was most interested in what was under the clothing. 
	ŅTurn around and let me see you,Ó my wife ordered. I did as she 
wanted. When I returned to my starting position I just stopped and 
waited. I knew IÕd never hear any comments of appreciation from her. 
	ŅNow get it going,Ó my wife ordered.
	I didnÕt have to ask what she meant. This was a common element 
of our repertoire. Grabbing my cock in my right hand, and placing my left 
on my balls, I proceeded to jerk off, careful to make sure that Lynn could 
always see what I was doing. I worked at it quickly, squeezing my cock 
tightly, because I know that Lynn likes things to advance at a certain 
pace. Soon I was sporting a proud hard-on, the first of what would 
probably be many over the course of the evening. Lynn had watched my 
efforts like an eagle, and I in turn had watched her watching me. It was 
humiliating to be made to perform like that. It felt wonderful.
	Reaching out, my wife grabbed the shaft, hard, and pulled me 
along into the family room. SheÕd closed all the drapes this time, though 
sometimes she makes me perform in font of a partially open window. I 
noticed a half-empty bottle of wine on the table, along with a mostly 
empty glass, and felt a thrill go through me. Wine loosened her inhibitions. 
And when that happened, she took a much looser interpretation of the 
rules.
	
	The rules. The rules were the outline, the foundation for all our 
activities. Lynn took her cues from the rules, which kept us on the right 
path. She could freelance as she went along, of course, as was her right as 
the Mistress. But the rules set down the basic plan and our ultimate goal. 
	The first time we tried to perform as Mistress and submissive, the 
results had been OK, but not as good as IÕd imagined. IÕd spent much of 
my time making suggestions as to how she should treat me. She accused 
me of Ņtopping from the bottom.Ó Lynn isnÕt completely unaware of the 
domination scene. She was right. IÕd been trying to direct the action. I had 
certain things I wanted to accomplish, and I needed a way to 
communicate those to her. So before our next session, I presented her with 
my suggestions for the rules.
	Rule #1: The slave, me, must always appear totally naked before 
the Mistress, to demonstrate his vulnerability. She could, of course, order 
him to wear any clothing she desired, male or female.
	Rule #2: The slave must often kiss or lick the feet or other 
designated body part of the Mistress, to demonstrate his complete 
devotion to serving her needs.
	Rule #3: The slave will often be spanked or otherwise painfully 
punished, for real or imagined misdeeds, to show his willingness to learn.
	Rule #4: The slaveÕs body can be used as a sexual or functional 
play thing by the Mistress, to give her any pleasure, physical or mental, 
that she might desire. 
	Rule #5: The slave should be in pain or humiliated often, as a 
reminder of his submissive and degrading standing.
	So far, not so bad, right? But thereÕs more to the list.
	
	After moving the coffee table away, I quickly knelt down in front 
of Lynn. Then, bending way over, I deposited a light kiss on the top of my 
wifeÕs foot. Then another. And another. Soon I was ravishing kisses all 
over both her feet, panting as I strove to cover every inch of the tops with 
my warm lips. Just as IÕd started to work up towards her ankles, she 
imperiously lifted one foot and pressed it right in my face. I took the 
obvious cue and began licking the sole of her foot, cleaning it, worshipping 
it. I could feel myself changing with every moment. I wasnÕt just 
submissive. I was a dog, unworthy of licking even this lowly portion of 
my Mistress. Yet it was at the moment the only way I could show her how 
much I was willing to serve her. 
	Soon enough she swung her other foot to me, and I licked and 
kissed it as thoroughly as possible. To some it might seem gross, but this 
wasnÕt particularly bad. In the past, sheÕd made me lick her feet clean 
after running through the dirt, and once after walking in the mud. She 
knew that the more I got into this, the more compliant I would be later in 
the evening.
	As I worked on one foot, lavishly licking her sole and toes, I could 
feel her other foot sliding steadily up my leg. Even though I was expecting 
it, the touch of her foot on my cock caused me to groan in pleasure. Soon, 
she and I were licking and rubbing in tandem, going faster and slower as 
her mood dictated. Abruptly, she pulled away her foot from my mouth 
and presented me with the other one, which now had a goodly amount of 
my pre-cum on it. I told you I liked to be subservient.
	I didnÕt flinch a bit as I moved to tongue it off. IÕd do that, and 
more, for the thrill of being rewarded later by my Mistress. And that was 
what she was now. My Mistress. Once I began kissing her feet, we went 
from husband and wife to slave and Mistress. She was now totally in 
control, governed only by a few rules, which she also had the right to 
throw by the wayside.
	ŅThatÕs enough, dog,Ó my Mistress said, pulling me back to her by 
my hair. ŅGo and get your toy box. Now!Ó 
	ŅYes, Mistress,Ó I replied, scampering to get the locked box from 
the depths of our closet. That she hadnÕt asked for anything in specific 
either meant that she didnÕt have a plan in mind, or that she might be 
experimenting with any number of toys. I returned packing a medium-
sized plastic overnight case with an expensive and complicated 
combination lock on it. Our kids or their friends wouldnÕt be discovering 
my secret side anytime soon. 
	I stood passively as my Mistress opened the box and checked 
inside. She didnÕt make a move toward the double-locked compartment 
inside. But it was much too early for that, anyway.
	ŅKneel here!Ó Lynn barked at me, pushing the box to the side. She 
revels in making me wait for my pleasures and pains, in taking abrupt 
right turns when I expect her to go left. I dropped to my knees like a rock, 
my hands behind my back and my eyes lowered, as IÕd been taught. In 
truth I want to grovel before her, to writhe on the ground like a worm, to 
lick her feet endlessly and hope she favors me with some punishment. 
	Despite being braced for it, I still cried out when she suddenly 
reached out and pinched my nipples, pulling and twisting them harshly. 
With intent to inflict pain, she then pulled them taut and dug her 
fingernails into the soft skin. I moaned, giving myself into the pain, then 
struggled to answer as she asked, ŅWhat are you?Ó
	ŅIÕm a dog, Mistress. A dog.Ó
	ŅAnd what do you want to become?Ó
	ŅI want to become your bitch, Mistress. Your filthy, fucking bitch! 
Ooooooh,Ó I moaned, ŅUse me Mistress. Use me and abuse me.Ó
	She released one nipple and went to work on the other. Her 
fingernails raked across my skin, leaving ugly red marks. The next day 
was Saturday. She could mark me without any qualms that the damage 
would be spotted. She leaned forward suddenly and bit the nipple, 
making me cry inwardly but sending a jolt directly to my cock. I know IÕll 
spend much of the night in this frenzied, half-erect state, wanting to cum 
but wanting something else even more. 
	After a few minutes of sharp, short and delicious pain, My 
Mistress gave up on torturing my nipples and instead bent and wrapped 
her hand around my cock. Her intent wasnÕt to bring me off, though. Her 
intent was to make me hurt. 
	ŅStand slave!Ó she ordered, tugging roughly on my meat. Placing 
both hands on the shaft, she twisted and pulled on it, yanking it around 
and around. Then, with one hand pressing it against my body, she used 
her other hand to spank my balls, winding up and slapping them with a 
vengeance. Again and again she whacked them, as my moans of pleasure 
turned into gasps of pain. Then, when she noticed that her hands were 
slick with my pre-cum, she held them out and I immediately bent to lick 
them off. I must keep my Mistress as clean of my bodily fluids as 
possible.
	She still hadnÕt humiliated me enough, though, so she ordered me 
to lay face up on the floor with my legs spread as far as possible, and my 
hand continuously stroking my cock. Reaching behind her, she brought out 
a camera to take pictures of me jacking myself off, completely in her 
power. Our collection includes over 500 images. Each one has the power 
to get me hard or get me off.
	ŅTell me how many ways you serve me, you filthy dog,Ó she said, 
taking another long sip of her wine. I noticed that the bottle only had 
another two glasses left in it. Would her need to dominate me end when 
the wine ended? That worry swiftly left as I concentrated on the answer.
	ŅIÕm your lap dog, Mistress. IÕm your fuck toy. IÕm your play doll. 
IÕm your ball boy. IÕm your cum slut. And if IÕm very, very good, IÕm your 
bitch.Ó
	Each name is a code word, designating a certain way that I serve 
my Mistress. As her lap dog, I lap at her cunt, breasts and body parts, all 
for her pleasure. As her fuck toy, she uses my hard cock, fingers, tongue, 
toes, and anything else to her herself off. As her play doll, I have to wear 
anything she wants me to, from womenÕs clothing to kink-wear to walking 
around naked. As her ball boy, IÕm here for her to physically and mentally 
torture, squeezing my balls, dripping wax on my cock, spanking and 
beating me to her heartÕs content. As her cum slut, well, that pretty much 
explains itself. And if I serve her very, very well, and sheÕs in just the right 
frame of mind, IÕll be allowed to do each one for her. And for me. But 
even if we just do one or two, the thrill of not being in control for just that 
long feels like a vacation to me. 
	ŅFreeze!Ó she ordered, and I stopped jacking off with my hand 
almost to the top of my shaft. There, just seeping out of my cock slit, was 
a large drop of pre-cum, glistening in the waning sunlight. Stepping 
forward, my Mistress carefully lowered her foot onto the head of my 
cock, rubbing the sole up and down and coating it with my seed. Then, 
moving forward, she held it over my lips, making me strain upwards to 
lick it from her. It tasted a little saltier than usual, probably from the 
sweat I left there earlier. I can only wonder how sheÕs going to make me 
cum this time. And how much IÕll have to eat.
	 
	Rule #6: The slave shall be forced to eat his own cum, as a lesson 
in humility and as a reminder that the session only ends when the 
Mistress says it does.
	See, IÕm all Mr. Gung-ho to do this and that when IÕm on the cusp, 
when my orgasm is just within reach. But like every other man, once the 
sperm leaves my body, all those hormones and adrenaline leave too. And 
what seemed like a good idea before suddenly seems like a bad idea. And 
so, if I had my own way, any session would end after my first cumshot. 
Not terribly satisfying if youÕre a Mistress with a plan.
	The answer, then, was this rule, which also serves as a gateway. 
The understanding is that if I fulfill this after the first cumshot, then I can 
have access to greater pleasures, and pains, after IÕve had some time to 
recover. My Mistress has also learned that my needs and compliance can 
be even more intense if IÕm building up to my second shot of the day. IÕll 
literally do anything, anything, to get off again. And by adding a cock ring 
to the equation, she can keep me hard for hours.
	That was all just a theory at the beginning. It appealed to Lynn, 
too, because she had always been asking me to lick my cum out of her 
pussy after I came. There just wasnÕt enough incentive for it. Not that I 
could explain it to her that way. 
	Even with this in the rules, I knew that IÕd try to wiggle out of it 
somehow. So before we started the next session, I suggested that she 
attach some reward and/or punishment to my actions. This was well 
before weÕd worked our way up to my ultimate reward, for which IÕll do 
anything.
	That night I licked her feet and abased myself before her. I got 
hard as she twisted my nipples and got excited as she spanked my ass. I 
posed as she took pictures of my naked body, and I worked myself into a 
sweat as I licked her cunt. Finally she ordered me to lay on the coffee 
table and tied my ankles and one wrist to the table legs. She had me 
masturbate with my free hand while she took degrading pictures of me 
with the digital camera. Finally, with her permission, I shot my load onto 
my stomach. 
	ŅScoop it up to your mouth and let it drip in,Ó she ordered, setting 
up to take pictures of this historic event. I hesitated for just a moment. 
But it was long enough.
	ŅIÕm going to leave you here for 20 minutes,Ó she stated flatly. 
ŅWhen I come back youÕll eat that cum and weÕll continue. If you donÕt, 
IÕll leave you here for the rest of the night. I mean it.Ó With that she 
walked away.
	I spent the next 20 minutes not working up the courage, but 
berating myself for hesitating. Of course IÕd eat the cum. IÕd do anything 
to get to where I wanted to go. By the time she returned my cock was 
completely flaccid and the cum on my stomach had turned watery. I only 
waited for her to set up for the photo before I scooped up as much seed 
as I could get and let it drip into my gaping mouth. She had me scrape it 
all off my stomach and then lick my fingers clean before she would release 
me. Once untied, she punished me severely, spanking my bare ass with a 
rubber spatula. At the end of the night, after IÕd shot my second load 
deep inside her cunt, I licked it out with a vengeance, thrilled to be a good 
slave to my Mistress.
	
	ŅDo you want to cum, dog?Ó my Mistress asked disingenuously.
	I paused, sensing a trap, then answered, knowing that sheÕd easily 
see through any lie. ŅYes, Mistress, I want to cum for you.Ó
	ŅHow typical, dog, letting yourself be led around by your dick. I 
think you should be punished, instead.Ó
	ŅYes, Mistress. I need to be punished,Ó I said eagerly. On a day 
like this, punishment would feel soooooo good. 
	ŅWhat sins have you committed, that you need to be punished 
for?Ó my Mistress asked expectantly.
	This threw me for a loop. Sins? I quickly thought through my day. 
It would have to be something believable, something close to the truth. But 
not something so bad that IÕd get into real trouble Š marriage trouble.
	ŅMistress, I confess. At work today, I tried to look down one of 
the womenÕs tops. I think she was braless, and I wanted to see her tits. I 
wanted to see her topless, and in my mind I imagined what it would be 
like to suck her nipples into my mouth.Ó There. It was true enough, but 
without any serious repercussions.
	I expected to head right to the punishment phase, but she took 
another twist.
	ŅIÕm going to pull out my shirt, and you tell me how much of her 
tits that you saw.Ó
	She pulled out her shirt, and I told her to stop just a little farther 
than I had actually seen. 
	ŅAlmost to the nipples, you raunchy pig! Would you have been 
happy to spy her nipples? Would that have made your cock get hard?Ó
	I answered the only way I could, ŅIÕm a dog, Mistress. A dog. My 
cock makes me do things I donÕt want to do. IÕm a dog and I need to be 
punished.Ó 
	But that didnÕt have the placating effect IÕd hoped for. She just 
didnÕt want to let it go. ŅDid you think her tits were sexy? Well, did 
you?Ó
	Now I was in a really bad spot. IÕd be in trouble no matter how I 
answered. ŅYes, Mistress, her tits were sexy.Ó I paused. And then 
regretted the next words as soon as I uttered them. ŅBut theyÕre not as 
sexy as yours.Ó
	She leapt upon that like a cat on a mouse. ŅWe werenÕt talking 
about mine. So if you want any hope of seeing them tonight, youÕll keep to 
the subject. Now IÕm really going to have to punish you, so you can learn 
not to be a dog. And if you want to have any hope of being my bitch later 
on.
	My bitch. She held that reward over my head like a carrot. Of 
course IÕd take my punishment for that. 
	At her orders, I stood in the middle of the room stroking my cock. 
She brought a dining room chair into the room, bending me over the seat 
and tying my wrists to the bottom of the legs. It was a simple but 
effective bondage position, giving her full access to my ass. Her weapon 
of choice was a ping-pong paddle, not modified in the least. I strained to 
look back as she drew her arm back, poised for my punishment. 
	Whack! The paddle landed flat on my ass cheeks, stinging like a 
thousand bee stings. Then three in succession. Then a pause. Then two 
more. She likes to mix things up to keep me guessing.
	After 27 swats she stopped. I count automatically, because if she 
asks for the count and I donÕt know it, sheÕll start again É from number 
one. I could hear her reach into the bag, but couldnÕt see a thing. What 
was she pulling out? 
	ŅSpread your legs, you mutt,Ó she ordered, pushing my thighs 
apart. I felt her hand, then, on my cock, which was now soft and pliable. 
In a moment I knew what was happening. SheÕd tied a thin rope around 
the head of my cock, and could use it to pull my dick in any direction she 
wanted, even back up between my ass cheeks. Which was exactly what 
she did.
	Now she started a truly devious punishment, which sheÕd 
discovered on the Net. Pulling my cock back and up, she held the rope 
taut in one hand and used something hard and small Š her crop? Š to 
paddle my cock and ass at the same time. The first time sheÕd done this 
had been exquisitely torturous, as the more she paddled my cock, the 
harder it had become. And the stiffer it got, the less it could be pulled 
back between my legs. That first time, IÕd nearly collapsed from the 
pleasure. This time it felt no less exciting.
	ŅI need a reward for all my hard work,Ó Lynn said, finally laying 
down the paddle. ŅMove your ass over here,Ó she ordered, indicating a 
spot in front of the couch. 
	After awkwardly carrying the chair beneath me over to that spot, I 
knelt back down and twisted my head to watch her. With little fanfare 
she unsnapped the waistband of her shorts, unzipped the zipper, and 
pushed them to the floor. Then, knowing I was watching her, she slowly 
lowered her panties to the floor, leaving her bottom half naked. 
	Hopping on the couch she positioned herself so that her open legs 
were just inches from my face. 
	ŅIs this what you want, dog? Is this what gets you hard?Ó
	ŅYes, Mistress, I want your sweet pussy in my face. I dream about 
your cunt. IÕm your dog. And I want to be your bitch!Ó
	ŅLetÕs just see how good you are as a dog, first. Eat me out, you 
lap dog. Drink my juice. Make me cum.Ó
	With that she scooted forward until her cunt was full onto my 
face. I eagerly shot my tongue into her hole, tongue-fucking her and then 
sliding up her slit to her tiny pearl. My Mistress isnÕt big into teasing 
around her clit. She wants to feel it hard and fast. She smelled sharp and 
tangy, and tasted kind of rough. But I still loved it. I wished I could use 
my hands to pull her even tighter against me. In truth, when IÕm feeling 
this way I would rather fuck her with my tongue than with my dick. It 
makes me feel like IÕm really her sex slave. Like everything I do is simply 
and solely for her pleasure. Which it should be, when sheÕs in charge. So I 
strained to press myself harder against her steaming slit, to push myself 
deeper into her juicy hole. 
	As I crammed my face hard against her cunt, my Mistress shifted 
her legs so I could reach the tight, crinkled skin of her asshole. Taking my 
cue I licked my way down, spearing my tongue into her spastic hole as 
deep as I could press. She moaned then, from deep within her, and I knew 
that IÕd scored some major pleasure points. Again and again I violated 
her anus, filling her with my lively, flicking appendage. Finally she let her 
legs fall back down, tearing me away from the dessert and back to the 
main meal. 
	ŅUgggh. Ummmmmmmmgh. Aummmmmmggggghhhhh! Ņ she cried 
as she grabbed me by the hair and pulled me tight against her slit. I 
worked her wet cunt savagely, now totally devoted to stimulating her 
hard, quivering clit. Finally she came, bucking up and down as though my 
face was a dildo, hard and rough enough to prolong her ecstasy. In fact, 
in the past she has kept me at it, tonguing her to orgasm after orgasm, 
until she was so exhausted all she could do was lay on the floor and 
pant. And until my tongue was so sore I had to eat soft foods the next 
day..
	
	I donÕt know what it is, but eating her cunt when IÕm submissive 
like this is different from eating her out when weÕre making love. I think 
itÕs much like the different kinds of blowjobs a guy can get. If itÕs freely 
given, then it feels pleasurable enough. But sometimes a guy just wants to 
stand over a woman and tell her, ŅSuck me, bitch,Ó and then watch as 
she bends her naked body to the job, her only role to give pleasure to the 
man-beast towering above her. HeÕll fantasize then, about being able to 
order her to do his bidding anytime, anyplace, her entire being tasked to 
fulfilling his every wish. ItÕs power that only the kings and emperors of 
old could enjoy. 
	When I bend to eat her pussy, itÕs almost like IÕm as helpless as 
the wenches and concubines who served their king. Just as they sucked his 
cock, the source of his power, I suck the source of her power. Just as they 
were forced to lick his shaft and worship his balls, IÕm forced to cleave 
her slit and tongue her clit, pulling her power-drenched juices from the 
depths of her. SheÕs raping my mouth. And IÕm giving into her power.
	My Mistress understands this now, and uses her pussy for both 
her pleasure and my punishment. Sometimes she sits bottomless on the 
couch, and IÕll lightly lick her slit as she uses her laptop or watches 
television. A few times she has allowed me lick my way up her legs, but 
stopped me just inches from her pussy, forcing me to look but not touch, 
to smell but not enjoy, until she is finished with her program or her book. 
Occasionally sheÕll get on her hands and knees and force me to lick her 
from behind, as a dog would. IÕll cram my face between her ass cheeks 
and slide my tongue as far into her hole as I can, before lapping 
ferociously at her hidden clit. She loves to use this position to make me 
give her a rim job, too, where I lick her asshole to get it wet, then shove my 
tongue inside. ItÕs a sure way to get her moaning. And for her to show me 
whoÕs really boss.
	
	After she finished using my tongue as a dildo, my Mistress fell 
back against the cushions, her pussy bright red and covered in her juices 
and my spit. She was still wearing the white shirt sheÕd presumably worn 
all day, and I wondered if I was ever going to get the privilege of seeing 
her tits. But instead of replying to my unspoken entreaties, she simply got 
up and headed to the bathroom, leaving me trussed to the chair like 
forgotten sex toy.
	When she finally returned, she looked much fresher, whereas I felt 
dirty, sweaty, and nearly frustrated to the point of exhaustion. As though 
reading my thoughts, she sat next to the chair and began pulling and 
twisting my dangling cock, stretching it to its full length and letting it snap 
back. Moving upward, she grabbed my balls in one hand, her fingers 
separating them, then squeezing them with a gradually increasing 
intensity. She tugged at the short hairs there, painfully stretching the skin 
as the follicles refused to part. Sometimes sheÕll strap me down and pull 
single hairs out, an operation that leaves me panting from the pain and 
pleasure. For extra effect, sheÕll pull out two at once, leaving me feeling as 
though she was pulling a nerve straight from my body. SheÕll even make a 
game of it, trying to find the longest one.
	ŅAre you ready to cum, slut?Ó she whispered in my ear.
	ŅYes, Mistress,Ó I pant, my cock hard in her hand.
	She tugged at the ropes until they fell away; she never knots them 
because she knows I want to be there.
	ŅLay on your back,Ó she ordered, as I forced my cramped body to 
obey. 
	Laying flat on the floor, my dick stuck up like a flagpole from the 
V between my legs. Without a single comment she lowered herself down 
on my hard cock, her steamy wet cunt encasing me in its heavenly tight 
grip. She rode me then, as an animal might hump a branch, with no regard 
to anything but her own pleasure. Regardless, the tight feel of her pussy, 
and the sight of my cock disappearing inside her, brought me to the edge 
of oblivion.
	ŅIÕm, IÕm going to cum, Mistress,Ó I announced, though sheÕd set no 
limits on my behavior when it came to cumming this time. With no 
admonishment to stop, I let myself spasm, my cock squirting a huge load 
of jism deep into her sexy hole. Just as I finished my orgasm, she reached 
down and pinched my hardened nipple, the pain causing me to twist 
beneath. A not so subtle reminder: even though IÕd finished this part, I 
still belonged to her.
	ŅThat was quick,Ó she commented, pushing against me to help 
herself stand up. Instead of moving away, though, she took two steps 
forward until her sopping pussy was directly over my face. I could clearly 
see the angry lips of her cunt, the curly V of her cunt hair, and farther up, 
could catch occasional glimpses of her joyous tits. As I strained to see 
more, I felt a drop of liquid splatter on my face. Then another. Was that a 
drop of her juices? Or something else?
	She turned around to face my feet, then began to set herself down. 
Onto her knees. Onto my face! As she slowly bent down, her pussy 
slowly pulled open. And what I had just shot inside now began seeping 
out, as surely as gravity pulls any liquid to the lowest point. Without a 
bit of fanfare she sat on my face, and I instinctively tilted my head back 
so I could get my tongue into her deep hole. I didnÕt do it, yet, instead 
enjoying the almost claustrophobic sense of her cunt upon me. I could 
only breathe through my nose, and one wrong move backwards would 
leave me literally breathless. This is my favorite pussy-eating position 
because IÕm completely at her mercy, as forced to perform as if she were 
raping me.
	Finally I thrust my tongue up into her waiting hole, only to feel a 
stream of sticky, salty semen coat my tongue and flow down into my 
mouth. I swallowed it quickly, the taste and viscosity as familiar to me as 
any other, as familiar to me as it is to her, in fact. Urgently I pushed my 
tongue back inside her, seeking more of the holy fluid. She wanted me to 
clean her out, to suck my cum from her cunt in an orgy of masochistic 
pleasure. And I wanted to eat it all, to prove that I was worthy of 
continuing.
	That was the key; the unwritten pact. If I proved myself 
sufficiently at this stage, she agreed to continue to greater punishments 
and pleasures. Even though I had already cum. Even if she had already 
cum. Even if we were both, momentarily, drained of passion and desire. 
Because my desire would return. And I would want more.
	IÕd barely finished cleaning her slit when she abruptly knelt 
forward and took my rapidly shrinking cock into her mouth. Now the 
touch that I wouldÕve welcomed just minutes before became a new form 
of torture for me. Licking just the tip of my cock, she stimulated the most 
sensitive part of my body Š made ultra-sensitive by just having orgasmed. 
The result was an intense burning sensation, not unlike placing a hot iron 
on exposed skin. But not excruciatingly painful; just extremely intense. In 
the right circumstances, it can be exceedingly pleasurable. These were not 
the right circumstances.
	My legs thrashed and cramped as her tongue dipped into the slit 
at the top of my cock. She had my upper body pinned to the floor, and I 
could see nothing but her ass and the bottom of her pussy. She continued 
at her task, seemingly oblivious to my cries and gasps, now using the 
palm of her hand to gently rub the dry helmet, creating friction of 
immeasurable degree. My hands were locked beneath her knees; my body 
locked between her legs. She rubbed the ridge between the helmet and the 
shaft with the side of her thumb. The friction was so intense, so hot, my 
feet began to tingle. And still she persisted, her actions bringing a reaction 
from every extremity. I felt weak, drained, and yet I could feel that 
passion and desire building, building. I was nearly ready for Round Two. 
	Finally she pulled the whole of my cock into her mouth, her tongue 
soothing where it had once been excruciating. After sucking me gently she 
rolled off me, the look in her eyes telling me all I needed to know. IÕd 
passed the test. We were going to continue.
	We took a few minutes break, she sipping her wine, me washing 
my face and groin. I stank of sweat, juices and cum, but all I could do 
was get an extra shot of anti-perspirant. Sometimes my Mistress takes a 
quick shower during a break, and I attend to her. But usually she uses the 
time to plot her next move.
	She motioned to me, the break at an end. I dropped back to the 
ground in front of her, kissing and licking her toes and feet. IÕm openly 
groveling now. I want her to abuse me like a two-dollar whore. Because 
thatÕs what I am. A whore that will do anything for a little pleasure. With 
a single spoken word, she had me kneel astride her, so that my chest was 
at the same level as her face. Urging me to lean against her, she lightly 
flicked her tongue along my right nipple, raising it to attention, before 
doing the same to the left. I moaned softly, the sweat breaking out on my 
brow. Through much use, and abuse, sheÕd turned my nipples into finely-
tuned sexual organs. They responded to both pleasure and pain, and 
could almost, by themselves, bring me to the brink of orgasm.
	Softly, slowly, she licked them, worrying at the little nubs. Then, 
as I began to relax into it, she bit one, the pain exquisite as it shot through 
my body. The threshold broken, she began gnawing and twisting them in 
her teeth, causing me to whimper in wonderful helplessness. She 
continued on, relentlessly, alternating bites, pinching and pain with soft 
licking and blowing. I writhed against her, wanting to pull away and yet 
not wanting to. She could ravage me all night and IÕd enjoy every second. 
	She reached down, between my legs, not stopping at my cock or 
balls, but farther back to press her finger against my anus, my golden 
hole. I was so ready, so willing. I pressed my chest against her, arching my 
back, despite the fact that she was now viciously biting my sensitive 
nipples. Her fingers danced around the surface of my ass, touching my 
tight bud often enough to send waves of anticipation through me. 
	ŅGo get Number One,Ó she ordered, suddenly ceasing her 
ministrations. I nearly tripped over myself as I scampered to comply, the 
combination lock on the inside of the travel bag slipping through my 
fingers. Reaching inside, I found it by touch, then eagerly returned it to my 
Mistress. My obedience was soon to be rewarded.
	
Rule #7: The slave shall be treated as though he is being trained to do 
whatever his Mistress wishes, including performing sexual acts on another 
man.
	ThatÕs one of our shared fantasies. And what could make a man 
feel more powerless, more helpless, than being at the mercy of not only a 
woman, but another man. Me. On my knees. Another man standing before 
me. A stranger. A bi-sexual stranger. HeÕs touching my naked wife. 
Kissing her. Sucking her full nipples. Stroking her bare cunt. And me at 
their feet. Their mutual sex toy. Kissing their feet. Groveling before them. 
Hoping to be used and abused. Wanting to watch another man fuck my 
wife with his big, thick cock. Bigger than mine. Thicker. With huge balls 
dangling in a taut sack. IÕm her present to him. A mouth to warm him up. 
A receptacle for his cum. And an easy, tight fuck. Waiting to be his bitch. 
Their bitch.
	I lie flat on the floor, heatedly licking their feet. I look up in 
wonder, and fearful anticipation, as they tower above me. I can smell 
their sex already. HeÕs half firm. Her slit is beginning to swell. HeÕs kissing 
the nape of her neck. SheÕs pressing her full breasts against him. His 
fingers stroke the folds of her pussy; a spot only I have touched for the 
last 13 years. She touches his cock. I can see the wonder and admiration 
in her eyes. Only half-erect, itÕs already as big as mine. Soon my wife will 
get a good fuck. A hard fuck. A fuck from a rough man whoÕs not her 
husband. The fuck she has wanted, secretly, for so many years. Finally 
she looks down and notices me, groveling for attention.
	ŅSuck his cock,Ó she orders, pulling from his grasp and sitting 
down to watch. ŅSuck him hard, so he can fuck me hard with his big, 
thick, beautiful cock. Suck him good, and maybe, just maybe, IÕll let you 
help him put his nasty cock into your wifeÕs pussy.Ó
	I climb to my knees, as IÕve been taught. His cock sways in front of 
my face, the head an angry purple. Gently, oh so gently, I grasp the shaft 
in my fingertips. I bend forward. This is the real thing. Softer than any 
dildo, yet hard enough to split my lips, and my wifeÕs pussy, straight 
open. I concentrate on that image as I press my head forward, feeling the 
tip, the ridge, and finally the shaft bump over my lips. He tastes of cum 
and sweat. His girth is hard to handle. I run my tongue up and over the 
shaft as best I can, getting a feel of it. Suddenly he pulls me toward him, 
crushing his cock deep in my mouth. I know what he wants and give it to 
him, mouthfucking him with abandon. Exactly as I was trained. Trained 
for this fantasy.
	
	My wife quickly strapped on the harness, the leather already 
sized to fit her. In the front extends a seven-inch dildo, about one-and-a-
quarter inches in diameter. ItÕs flesh colored, but not particularly life-like. 
ThereÕs no cock-tip, no ridge and no balls. ItÕs called Number One because 
itÕs the first strap-on we purchased. Number Two is much more realistic, 
with a hard helmet, a deep ridge, and two testicles at the base. ItÕs also 
larger Š eight-and-a-half inches and one-and-a-half inches in diameter. A 
nub of plastic is attached to the inside of the harness just below the balls. 
The nub stimulates the wearer as the dildo is being used on the recipient. 
ItÕs perfectly situated to hit my wifeÕs clit. IÕve nicknamed Number Three 
ŅThe Punisher.Ó It looks less like a dick than a glass tool of some sort. 
Made of clear Pyrex, it has a smooth shaft that is only interrupted by a 
deep ridge, designed to make you feel it going in É and coming out. This 
harness has two smaller dildos that can be attached to the inside. One 
goes inside the pussy. The other goes inside the ass. ItÕs one all-around 
hardcore piece of equipment.
	ŅKneel,Ó my Mistress said to me, standing above me. I drop to my 
knees, the dildo now at mouth level.
	ŅSuck me off,Ó she ordered, pressing the tip of it up to my lips. 
IÕve done this many times before. I take the fake cock into my mouth, 
sucking hard on the plastic. Now my fantasy really takes flight. IÕm not 
just sucking a dildo for my dominant wife. IÕm sucking the cock of that 
stranger. Making it harder. Making it thicker. Licking the big, stiff shaft 
that will soon deliver to me a mouthful of hot jism, sprayed across my 
face as an animal might mark his territory. Globs of it on my tongue, held 
there until ordered to swallow. And then the inevitable clean up session, 
my tongue wrapping around the deflated shaft, hunting in crevices and 
hair and skin for every stray speck of semen, until his big cock and balls 
are clean and ready for another round.
	Kneeling before my Mistress, I did a simple blowjob, using my 
hands to steady the long dildo as I licked and sucked at it with abandon. 
In the past she has taken my spent cum and applied it to the shaft, so 
that it would feel as though I were cleaning a strangerÕs cum from his 
cock. This time, though, despite my enthusiasm, she quickly tired of the 
game. And she pushed me away, abruptly ending my fantasy as well.
	ŅThat was terrible,Ó she said disdainfully. ŅI canÕt imagine you 
pleasing anyone with such a terrible blowjob. ItÕs obvious you havenÕt 
learned your lessons all that well. And since it canÕt be a problem with 
the teacher, it must be a problem with you. A blowjob is something any 
woman can do. Maybe you need to think more like a woman.Ó 
	I could already tell where this conversation would lead. She 
confirmed it with her next words, ŅBring over the box thatÕs in the 
laundry room. And hurry with it.Ó
	I leapt to my feet and ran to the laundry room, grabbing the box 
and dropping to my knees to present it to her. 
	ŅOpen it up and dress yourself,Ó she ordered, taking a seat on the 
couch. 
	I opened the box and looked inside with some trepidation. IÕd 
expected just what I got: a wardrobe of womenÕs clothing. What worried 
me was the kind of clothing it might be. My Mistress has complete control 
over me, even to what I wear or donÕt wear during the session. SheÕd 
placed me in womenÕs clothing before, but sometimes she would make a 
point about subjugation and such by the type of clothing she provided. I 
especially hated being forced to wear pantyhose. TheyÕre uncomfortable 
enough for a woman. TheyÕre damn near unbearable for a man who has 
an extra appendage to fit into the panty part. This time, though, I got off 
lightly. Nothing more than a plaid skirt. IÕd be a school girl for her 
pleasure. A schoolgirl that sheÕd soon be fucking. At least I hoped.
	ŅNow that youÕre better focused, letÕs try that blowjob again,Ó she 
said, grabbing the fake cock protruding from between her legs and 
gesturing to me. I scampered over to do her bidding, this time much more 
enthusiastically licking and sucking the hard dildo. I was grateful for 
having another chance to please her, and grateful for the chance to return 
to my fantasy. My Mistress knows I sometimes do this during a session. 
She lets me, as long as it doesnÕt interfere with my service to her.
	
	In my fantasy, IÕm licking the balls of the man who will soon fuck 
my wife. His balls are big and full, about the size of immature plums. 
They dangle from his body in a stiff sack, which barely gives way as I run 
my tongue up and down the skin. I suckle at each testicle, reverently 
kissing the source of his jism, the powerful semen that will soon coat the 
inside of my wifeÕs deepest crevice. My Mistress wants his cum to be as 
hot as possible. As I slurp and lick at his cock and balls, I imagine what 
kind of Master he would be. Would he be fair and giving, allowing me my 
pleasure after IÕve given him his? Or would he be cruel and demanding, 
binding me to the furniture and fucking my ass repeatedly? Would he 
make me his personal slave, or share me with his friends, reducing me to a 
tight hole for the horniest of them? The thought of both scenarios excites 
me, and I redouble my efforts to get him ready.
	Finally my wife reclines on the bed, her legs spread and her pussy 
eagerly awaiting his fully engorged sword. At her direction he positions 
himself over her, holding his cock just inches from her hot, wet pussy. I 
slide my hand between them, grasping his staff, and he lowers himself 
slightly so I can rub the massive head up and down my wifeÕs trembling 
slit. Finally I position him at the entrance to her tight cunt. He waits only 
until my hand is clear before lowering his cock straight down into her 
cunt, until their bodies are flat together. She moans contentedly, her hole 
filled with more cock than sheÕs ever had, save for the bigger dildos weÕve 
played with in the past. This cock, though, has a determined owner, and 
two balls filled with heavy semen ready to explode inside her. HeÕs not 
wearing a rubber, nor does he need to. The magazine ad and screening 
process assured that we were all free from disease, all diseases. So we 
can all fuck, and be fucked, without any fear. I watch with wonder as his 
massive tool slides in and out of my wifeÕs pussy. SheÕs already raised 
her legs far into the air to get as much of his rod inside her as possible. 
The lips of her pussy pucker in and out as he goes at her, as if her cunt is 
stretched to the limit. She has a dazed look of ecstasy on her face, and 
she exhorts him to fuck her harder, harder, harder, her grin widening as he 
complies. 
	Finally he stiffens, and I know heÕs hosing her insides with his 
seed, spurt after spurt splashing against her cunt walls. He pulls out then, 
and I look to my Mistress for instructions. Him? Or her? She gestures to 
her cunt and I slide my face between her legs. The scent of his cum and 
her juices is heady and overwhelming. Without waiting for a prompt I 
shoot my tongue into her hole. Her cunt is so full the cum seeps back out 
around my tongue. I lap it up eagerly. IÕm eating another manÕs cum from 
my wifeÕs cunt! It tastes the same as mine. But thereÕs so much of it! With 
balls that big, he mustÕve shot a gallon into her. 
	IÕve cleaned her out in a couple minutes, and then turn back to 
him. HeÕs watched the whole thing from a seat nearby. His cock is nearly 
flaccid, though he hasnÕt wiped the excess jism from the shaft. My 
Mistress told him thatÕs my job. I kneel before him, playing the part of the 
submissive slave. I take his cock back into my mouth and suck off the 
mixture of juices and cum. IÕm willing to serve both of them, in any way 
necessary.
	
	My Mistress pushed me away, this time looking satisfied with the 
job IÕve done. ŅGet me Number Two,Ó she orders, unstrapping the current 
strap-on from her waist. I fell over myself to get it to her. With luck, this 
means she will give me what I want, and get something for herself in the 
process.
	Rule #8: The slave shall allow himself to be fucked in the ass with 
the tool of the MistressÕ choice, to show that he is nothing more than a 
bitch, an animal to be used and abused for anotherÕs pleasure. 
	
	You see, in the beginning I sold this aspect to Lynn as a kind of 
punishment. Punish me. Fuck me. Quickly, though, she figured out that it 
wasnÕt a punishment for me. It was what I wanted. It was my reward. So 
the session expanded into my earning the reward, and her deciding 
whether IÕve done enough to get it. Believe me, there are many sessions 
that donÕt end up with me getting fucked. Or sessions in which she gives 
it to me by another means, such as a vibrator or vegetable. But the ones 
that do end that way are the ones that keep me coming back for more. 
	ItÕs not just the feeling of it that obsesses me. ItÕs the whole idea of 
it. Me, bent over, on my hands and knees, with my wife behind me, 
fucking me with a thick cock. Or me on my back, with my legs canted up, 
watching my wife slam her hard cock into me, exhibiting her ultimate 
power over me. Using me. Showing me who is in charge. Proving that she 
has the balls to bend me to her will. And me, staring up at her, watching 
the power fill her face. Seeing the breasts that I have teased now waving 
over me. Seeing the cunt that I have pounded now pounding into me. IÕm 
fully at her mercy at that point. She holds my manhood in the palm of her 
hand. Or, more accurately, at the point of her cock. 
	Roughly, my Mistress pushed me over the arm of the couch, 
flipping up the skirt. Now I virtually felt like a schoolgirl, chastised and 
vulnerable, trembling as she awaited penetration from her boyfriend. Or 
her teacher. Or her drug dealer. My Mistress took the blunt end of the 
cock and ran it up and down my crack, teasing me with its implied 
power. SheÕd applied a little oil; the cool wetness left me feeling even 
more exposed. Suddenly it was at the hole to my anus, pressing against 
the muscles, insistently demanding entrance. I strove to relax, rewarded 
with the feeling of the head pressing inside, followed by mile after mile of 
the hard, thick shaft. She had me pinned then, her bitch, her fuck toy, 
spearing my ass with her powerful, powerful tool. I had sacrificed 
everything to be here: my control, my manhood, my dignity, my body. All 
to be used like this. I felt a great release, more powerful than an orgasm. 
For a short time, I had been relieved of all responsibilities. I could simply 
bend over and be taken.
	Grasping my hips in her strong hands, she fucked my ass with 
abandon. Her cock slammed deep into me, despoiling every inch of me. 
No longer was it an inanimate object. Now it was her cock, her rod, as 
hungry and powerful as any manÕs. And it wanted to subjugate me, to 
spit its seed inside my ass, as surely as the man in our fantasy would 
ultimately take me and use me. All for my MistressÕ pleasure. 
	We didnÕt initially use such a thick and hefty dildo, of course. 
Penetration was my desire, not permanent damage. At first, my Mistress 
fucked me with her fingers, getting my ass used to the infiltration. Then 
we graduated to the handles of certain kitchen utensils, gradually 
increasing the thickness. Finally I was at the point where I could handle 
more (so to speak), and then we purchased the first dildo. But thereÕs no 
limit to what she can put inside me. SheÕs fucked me with carrots and 
cucumbers, gourds and screwdrivers. The more humiliating the object, the 
better it is. Sometimes sheÕll take me into my workroom, tie my hands to 
the rafters, and violate my ass with all manner of tools and objects, 
recording each successful insertion with our digital camera. At other 
times, sheÕll put a vibrator inside me, just as a means to torture me with 
the sensations.
	This time, though, there was nothing subtle about it. She fucked 
my ass with strong and sure strokes, as confident in her domination of me 
as any person could be. 
	Unbidden, I begged and whispered for more, ŅOh, yes, Mistress. 
Please fuck me. Please fuck your little whore. Make me your bitch. Make 
me your fucking bitch. Fuck your whore. Fuck my tight ass. Make me be 
nasty for you.Ó
	She responded by speeding up, slamming her hips against my ass 
again and again. I could tell that the nub on the inside of the harness was 
hitting her clit just right, by the way she bent over me and drove home her 
big cock. My own cock was stiff beneath us, though I just couldnÕt get it to 
rub on the couch for a little relief. Sometimes sheÕll fuck me and give me a 
hand job at the same time. ThereÕs nothing to compare with the feel of 
shooting your load with your MistressÕ hard cock shoved up your ass. 
Instead, I let my mind wander to our fantasy, imagining that our big 
dicked stranger was laying on the couch below me, and I was mouth-
fucking his cock as my wife sodomized me. I could almost feel his flesh 
quivering in my mouth, the blood pounding, the cock stiffening. I could 
only watch, helpless to stop it, as he rolled away from me and positioned 
himself behind her, his resuscitated cock swaying at the entrance to her 
pussy. And my Mistress, pushing me onto my back, moving up to 
straddle my face, so that IÕd have a wormÕs-eye view of his thick stick 
pressing inside her waiting hole. IÕm mesmerized by the sight of his wet, 
purple head penetrating her pussy lips, stretching the skin, finding a home 
inside her. Soon he begins to fuck her in earnest, and my face is quickly 
splattered with flecks of liquid, her red-hot juices mixed with his copious 
semen. ItÕs as if IÕm being blessed by the product of their passion, and I 
open my mouth wide to take it all in.

	Pulled back to reality, I felt my Mistress begin to stiffen behind 
me. Her orgasm was very, very close. Sometimes sheÕll simply pull out 
and lay on the floor, forcing me to complete the job with my tongue and 
fingers. Sometimes sheÕll mount me and ride my stiff cock to bring her off. 
This time, though, she stayed inside me, pressing herself more and more 
urgently against my ass. When she came, she grasped heavily at me, 
gouging and scratching my back and sides with her long nails, even while 
determined to push that big cock as far up my ass as possible. Finally she 
pulled away, the vacancy in my body a palpable disappointment. IÕd 
gotten what I wanted, and so had she. But I still hadnÕt cum yet, and my 
body was screaming for relief.

	Rule #9: The session is only over by mutual agreement, with the 
Mistress having the most say. It can last as long as the Mistress 
determines.
	Rule #10: The Mistress can refuse any requested session without 
explanation to the slave. The Mistress shall be accorded the opportunity 
to demand a session up to six times per year. These shall be denoted by a 
black chip, which will be handed to the slave. 
	IÕd guess this stage is the same for both men and women, no 
matter what type of sex youÕre having. The place where one of you is 
perfectly sated, but the other still has something to complete. Of course, 
as a sex slave, I have no right to demand an orgasmic finish. And, in fact, 
on a few occasions my Mistress has left me to wallow in my frustration, 
denying me a finish either as a punishment or for her own amusement. 
Fortunately, this time she took pity on me. First, she directed me to grab a 
dinner plate from the kitchen. Seated imperiously on the couch, she first 
made me kneel on all fours and suck her toes, while she used a crop to 
whip my bare and well-fucked ass. Then I was made to kneel upright 
before her, while she used the same crop to smack my now throbbing 
nipples. Finally she let me begin to jack off, slowly dripping lubricating oil 
onto my hard-working hands and cock. By this time IÕd been hard and 
soft over a dozen times since my last cumshot, assuring that IÕd built up a 
huge reservoir of cum. 
	It didnÕt take long for me to get to the edge and inform her of it. 
Daintily, she put the dinner plate on the floor and placed her feet on top 
of it. Just moments later, I shot a huge load of cum all over her feet and on 
the plate, my sticky seed quickly coating her ankles, feet and toes. So 
explosive was my orgasm that I literally swayed back and forth, my legs 
threatening to give out altogether. 
	ŅLook at the mess youÕve made,Ó my wife said, lightly rapping my 
hyper-sensitive cock head with her crop. The mere touch sent darts of 
pain shooting through my system. ŅClean it up. Now!Ó The edge in her 
voice was a sharp as the pain sheÕd just delivered, and I fell to the floor 
to begin licking the viscous fluid from her feet, licking where I could, 
sucking it from her toes. As I did, I flashed a final time to my fantasy. The 
stranger on the edge of orgasm, fucking my wife from behind. Me beneath 
them, watching his big manhood pump in and out of her, stretching her 
pussy and teasing her clit. And me, reaching up to thumb her nipples as 
they sway above me, then reaching down to rub his big, hard balls in their 
tight sac as they prepare to coat her insides. But at some unseen signal 
from my wife, he pulls his thick, slick cock from her cunt and begins to 
jack it off. Pulling my eyes from the sight of the angry slit disappearing 
again and again inside his meaty hand, I tilt my head back to see my wife 
watching us lustfully, anticipating this cumshot as much as the man about 
to provide it. I shift my gaze back to his cock just in time to see the first 
spurt fly toward my face. Reflexively I close my eyes as the hot liquid 
splashes on my nose, cheeks and lips. When the second spurt only 
reaches my chin, I open my eyes to witness the rest of it splattering onto 
me, seemingly by the gallon, dripping into my chest hair, glops of it slowly 
sliding on my skin. As he squeezes the final drops onto my stomach, my 
wife sidles backward until her cunt is positioned over the largest pool of 
cum on my chest. She then sits down on me, squirming from side to side 
to transfer his semen onto her body. Then, inching forward, IÕm forced to 
lick his cum off my wifeÕs legs, thighs and pussy. With all the cum that I 
can still feel on my body, I know that the nightÕs not going to end until IÕve 
cleaned both of them of his hot, salty, viscous cum. And that my wifeÕs 
surely going to schedule another rendezvous with this well-hung man, so 
she can enjoy his big, thick dick one more time.
	
	ThatÕs what I imagined as I sucked my cum from her feet. And as 
she pulled her feet from beneath me and pressed my head down into the 
cum puddled on the dinner plate. The taste of it didnÕt matter, nor the 
depravity of it. I knew that I was already auditioning for the next session. 
And though the urgent need to be dominated had fled from my body with 
the onrush of cum, I knew that it would return again. It always does. 

The End.
In Defense		Page 17