His Journey To Cocksucking

In a way, my trip could be described as crossing the ocean just to be taken. It wasn’t really that simple, but it was a rather fun way to think of it.

To vanilla friends I would just say that it turned out to be cheaper to have a long layover in London on the way home from a Dubai business meeting. When else might I get an opportunity for a day of British sightseeing?

My secret, of course, was the true nature of the opportunity I was indulging.

I was a bit dopey from the first leg of the flight and self-conscious about the pressurized-air smell sticking to me, but when I saw her smiling face waiting for me at arrivals, all pedestrian thought went away.

That she held up a card bearing my “sissy” name in large block letters had my face feeling warm right from the start.

She held out her hand for the travel wallet containing my tickets, passport, phone and wallet and instructed me to follow her. She smiled and turned on her heels. As I tugged my wheeled carry-on behind her I was immediately aware of the simplicity and totality of her control over me now.

It was a bit of a hike to her car in the attached parking structure but I cherished the time to think, not to mention the time to watch the intoxicating motion of her body in the fitted skirt. She opened the boot of her car for me to lift my bag into.

She opened the door for me to get into the back seat. I slid in beside a plain brown paper bag already resting on the bench seat. She closed the door and got behind the wheel. The strangeness of seeing the wheel on the right hand side of the car perfectly fit my off-balance emotions.

She started the drive with a bit of small talk, asking about the work portion of my trip, asking about the flight and how I was feeling. I began to breath a bit more easily, and the comfort I felt in her care was reassuring me, translating from our distance interactions into real life.

Then she got serious. There a different tone to her voice now – still friendly, but now teasing, playful and commanding all at the same time.

“Take the items out the of the bag. Put them on the seat beside you. Remove all your clothing and put it in the bag. Then you may put on the items in the bag. You are to be done all this by the time we arrive. Understand?”

I breathed in deeply. There was of course only one answer.

“Yes, Mistress.”

It’s not easy, maybe even impossible, to be graceful while stripping in the back seat of a moving car. Oddly enough, one’s shoes, socks and pants come off rather easily compared to one’s sportcoat and shirt.

Then you come against the realization that you’re a naked man in the back of a moving car on the highway in car without tinted windows. You also don’t have any money or ID or even a phone. You’re helpless.

The items from the bag ended up being a help to my nerves. I put my folded clothes in the bag, then buckled the wide leather collar around my neck, then buckled matching cuffs onto my wrists and ankles (a short hobble chain linked the ankle cuffs, while a simple padlock was there to link the wrist cuffs). Lastly, giving me mental relief if not actual cover was the heavy leather blindfold.

I could feel the vibration of the road and while I knew that, even sitting in the middle of the back seat, I was easily viewed, but at least I didn’t have to meet anyone’s gaze.

In time, Mistress exited the highway and seemed to take a sequence of roads that became progressively less smooth. There was a pause, the opening of an overhead garage door, and we pulled forward and came to a stop. I heard her exit the door and come around to open the rear door. I shifted sideways and she helped me out of the car, clipping a leash onto my collar first, then locks onto the buckles of the collar and all four cuffs.

There’s a smell that old warehouses have, dust and oil and time mixed in with the echo from the large spaces. I wouldn’t call it comforting to be led blind through that kind of space, following the tug of the leash and the clicking of Mistress’s heels, struggling to keep up with only the tiny steps allowed by the hobble chain.

Comfort and ease eroded even more the further I was led, as soon those clicking heels on concrete were not the only sound to be heard. There were voices, people in idle conversation.

The voices quickly hushed as I was led into the midst of them. My cuffed wrists were lifted over my head and clipped to what must have been a dangling chain, prepared and waiting for me.

I was introduced as Mistress’s submissive from Canada, presented to the gathering, spoken about, but never spoken to. I was touched, groped, inspected and teased. My resulting erection was inspiration for even further teasing.

I could feel the mood changing. There was a different energy around me.

The chain to my wrists was loosened but not to make things easier for me, no, but just so that I could be lowered to a kneeling position. I felt my chin held in someone’s gloved grip while my lips were painted with lipstick.

No sooner was she finished then my mouth was put to use. I felt the texture and taste of rubber as a strap-on dildo was pushed into me. My technique was commented on and corrected, making sure there was no teeth contact, making sure I was properly worshipful. I could feel the heat on my cheeks burning a new red. The voice was not hers, but another’s.

Thrusting began, and I was helpless but to deal with it. I felt the rubber cock jab further and further into my mouth, against tightness of my throat. I fought with my gag reflex as my eyes began to water.

The rubber cock was pulled back, drawn out of me, and there was a moment of respite, as I panted and licked my wet lips and tried to catch my breath.

Rest was short lived, of course. Again my mouth was filled up as the crowd cheered.

I knew immediately. The cock in my mouth was warm, pliant, alive… flesh. I must have paused when I realized, because a crop swished through the air and landed on my right ass cheek.

Every lesson was to be put to use again. Licking, sucking, slurping. Using my lips and the movement of my head. Not just service, but worship. How could it feel the same but so different? The warmth, yes. The feel of the veins, but they moved and pulsed like the ones on molded dildos never did. And he grew in the wet warmth of my mouth. His balls slapped my chin as my ministrations began to enthuse him.

When he came, grunting and thrusting, the crowd erupted in whoops and cheers.

His warm, gooey cum filled my mouth, spilled out of the corners of my lips, even as the commands quickly came from around me to swallow down every drop. Fingers were guiding the errant globs back into my mouth before he had even finished spurting, before I licked him clean and sucked out every last drop.

I knelt there, blind and panting, eyes wet, with the realization that I was changed.

It was just the beginning of course. There was another man, another cock lined up and ready for my mouth and my service. He was larger, already quite hard when his cock head thrust between my lips.

He was thrusting into my mouth for just about a minute when the blindfold was removed and I was forced to confront this new reality even more directly. I kept sucking and lapping at the cock, at him as I blinked away the brightness. I looked up at him looking down at me. He was handsome and fit, his body smooth. He wore nothing but a leather collar, and he was seemingly quite enjoying the ministrations of my novice tongue.

Upon the audience’s urging, he pulled back, out of my mouth, before he erupted and stroked himself to finish, exploding across my lips and face. It landed in warm streams and globs. This cum too was gathered up and pushed into my open mouth, but those gathered certainly did enjoy the look of the ropes marking my blushing cheeks.

There was another man ready, another submissive to one of the Dominant female guests, also wearing nothing but a collar. My hand were freed this time, and his were cuffed behind him. Mistress watched and guided me as I knelt before him and integrated the service of my hands into pleasing him.

I was working hard to give pleasure, to him and via my service to Mistress. Was it such a short trip from the virginity of my mouth to trying so eagerly to be a good cock sucker? I blushed to myself as it seems it was. Naked, I couldn’t deny, to myself or anyone else, that I was hard.

Over and over and over I knelt and sucked and stroked cock. Over and over and over I tasted and swallowed cum. Naked and leashed I was led from man to man, until there was not a single cock at the party that had not fed me.

It was into the quiet dark of night, almost dawn, before the party broke up and I was left alone with Mistress. She led me to a utilitarian washroom and I was allowed to clean myself in an open shower as she watched. She gave me back my clothes to dress, but she’d replaced my socks and underwear with thigh-high stockings and silk panties.

The drive back to the airport was different with the gift of sight. Shorter. Quieter. Intimate.

Mistress gave me a warm hug as she dropped me off, laughing that next time she might even allow me a more varied taste of British cuisine. I blushed and felt the loads of cum heavy in my belly as I walked away from her. I blushed through security, so very aware of wearing panties, but even more, of the changed glow that seemed to emanate from me.

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