Master and I got away for a few days of pushing the limits of a particular Bavarian motorcar on the racetrack, and some time for just the two of us. Although I generally enjoy flying, this trip was a little different. I was given a popular plastic cage before leaving to go to the airport. It fit as expected. Choose the base ring you think you need and go one size smaller… perfect base ring fitting guidelines. The tube, if you will, required some shoving of flesh that I often find fun, even in my usual steelwerks pieces of art, but by the time we reached our destination, it was miserable. This is not a cage review, but a reminder that even if it looks cool, it is nothing like the custom fit and feel of my usual titanium dick. In retrospect, I’d have just preferred to potentially have to show off my titanium cage the the TSA agent rather than end up having a cock I don’t need just flopping around. They promise me it will go through security and I am willing, but Master has so many security clearances and airline status things that I know he doesn’t want to do anything to call attention in sensitive areas.
At home, as well as when traveling, I am to be in uniform once past a defined area, usually the equivalent of the amount of space required to step just inside the door and be able to close it behind me. Once inside the suite, I closed the door and stripped. I gathered the posture collar, leather cuffs, and the carabiners, locks, etc from the luggage and presented them to my Master. He said we would need to go get dinner before I could be truly in service as his slave for the rest of the time that night.Kneeling before him, we reviewed the ground rules for the weekend. I already knew them, but there is something about being reminded of what is expected of a quality slave. I was signaled to sit in his lap to face him, so I could hear the important parts of the conversation.
I gazed into his beautiful eyes, never looking away. “Yes Master,” I answered, as my still uncaged cock gave away my excitement. I felt my Master’s hard dick pressing against me and hoped I’d me allowed the chance to taste it as I could feel the wet spot forming as he leaked. I felt very close to him, but only wanted to be closer.
“Do we have to eat tonight, Master? I can’t be nearly as close to you if we leave to eat,” I said.
Fast forward a few minutes and I had an answer. He was dressed for dinner, and as my Master locked the posture collar around my neck and the cuffs around my ankles and feet, I thought about our words, triggers, if you will. I think both of us quite enjoy the fantasy of hypnosis, and I have quite an active imagination, as does my Master. We have developed a language between the two of us that would mean nothing to anyone else, and part of that language is certain trigger words that are associated with certain times and feelings. The use of those words are important to the night.
As Master finished securely putting me away in the closet and attaching his hotel trick of the coat hanger with pants hangers to my nipples (fyi – he only uses lighter zip ties to attach me in situations like this as we both know I could break them in an emergency, but also both know I’d be in heaps of trouble if I did), he gave me a few trigger words just before he left to go get dinner. I was on the verge of a mental orgasm before I heard the door close behind him. My mind filled with thoughts of taking my Master’s pain as he tortured my nipples, the clamps from the hanger easily processed taking Master’s pain into pleasure. The plug in this slave’s hole felt like it was growing bigger and pushing so deeply that I was certain you would have seen the end of it in the back of my throat, had it not been tightly gagged. I could hear the noises one hears in a hotel room, but it was drowned by the feelings the triggers gave me. I fucking craved Master more and more with each passing second.
Finally, Master returned. But he didn’t come to the closet. Was that him? A housekeeper? Maintenance? A robber? I should not have been turned on by the possibility of all three, but I was in different ways- especially having seen the hot maintenance man in the lobby, but I then heard the shower and knew it was Master. A bit after that, he opened the closet and I saw the lights from the room and…. goddamn, his smile and that look in his eyes. I’m proud to be owned. The door closed. Master spoke to me as he milled around the room. Questions were answered with the best grunts and groans, and animalistic sounds I was able to make at the time, and yet he understood perfectly that what I wanted most in the world at that moment was to get close to him, to taste him, to take his pain, to feel him inside me, his slave, his hole, his property.
While I wasn’t hungry for food, Master insisted that I eat some of the food he had put out for me in the bowl on the floor. He said I would need the energy. I ate enough to give me energy to worship my Master. As as side note, Diet Coke is just as amazing as ever, if not better, in a bowl on the floor, but that’s another story for later.
After this, I was bound. Posture collar to wrists to ankles. Displayed on the bench in the room, an object for my Master’s use. As he spoke to me, using our language, our trigger words, horny, owned, vibrating almost begin to describe the sexual energy filling the room. The closeness and connection was more than I can describe, as I wanted nothing more than to worship Master. And that, his slave did.
Master opened my hole wider and deeper than ever before. As his hands entered inside of me the feeling of serving him was almost overwhelming. MY Master using his slave. The pride on his face as he gave me the trigger that made me feel full, deeper, more open than before….fuck it made me want him and love him more….that’s a fucking lot.
As he gave me the words that make my nipples extremely sensitive like volts of electricity igniting pure sex inside of me, I began to shake. As he owned me, I felt him against me. His massive, dripping, concrete hardened cock rubbed against me. I felt his breath and I vibrated more. Tunnel vision made Master’s pleasure my sole purpose. I wanted him closer.
The pride on his face as he brought me close to orgasm and then stopped, made me crave serving him more. I wanted his pleasure to overwhelm him through my service.
Master repositioned me so that he could fuck me as hard and deep as he pleased. As he did, he opened my throat with his fingers. Fuck, what a feeling! My Master inside me as much as physically possible, and I wanted him more, closer, deeper. I’ve never been more proud to be HIS slave.
Mentally, I had “orgasms” a dozen times over as I served Master. Physically, I was as close to an orgasm as I have come in the last two years. Knowing I wouldn’t be allowed one was a safe feeling for me. I knew he would get off on my denial. It also meant that I could enjoy serving as I should without fear of an actual orgasm for his slave.
Master gave me his orgasm that night. I’ll admit it was better than any physical one I ever had. That’s a special thing. His orgasms fill my sexual needs as well as his. As we were both physically exhausted from such an amazing night, I was allowed to massage him. I rubbed and licked every square inch of my Master as he started to fall asleep.
I was allowed on the bed that night. As Master held me, I had an inner peace, a feeling of belonging, a feeling of unconditional love, and a hope that every person finds a man like him.
That was just the first of three nights and, while the other two are similar versions of this, space and time will not allow me to write those now. But, the picture attached above will show you how I spent five hours the next night, so I think you can get the whole picture.
Master, you have given me true unconditional love and made me better. I only hope that my service provides the same fulfillment that you have allowed me.
NOTE FROM DREW – they ALWAYS do, my jack.