Message-ID: <34071asstr$1008468602@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "cate murray" <murraycate@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} "His Cock, My Master."
Date: Sat, 15 Dec 2001 21:10:02 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


His Cock, My Master.


   By Cate


   Bratby was talking about the native tribe in the remote
African valley where he had been studying mountain gorillas.

   "If the woman has several lovers, and most of them do," Bratby
observed, "the child has many fathers and one main father. 
Simple people, they think all the men have made her a bit
pregnant.  As if you can be a bit pregnant, eh?"

   He sniggered and sucked deeply on his cheroot.

   "No reason why you shouldn't be one of the fathers for your
own kid," Bratby said.

   I made an unidentifiable sound.  "Your wife's kid," Bratby
said with a guffaw, "Eh?"

   Sometimes Bratby let me pull away and answer him, other times
he got angry if I didn't continue to suck his engorged penis.  He
was contentedly smoking his cheroot and had a glass of whisky on
a table a few feet away. He reached for the whisky and I had to
move slightly on my knees and turn my head with him, sucking
harder to keep the swollen cock from twisting away from me.  It
was one of the dozens of little tests Bratby had devised for
testing my submission.

   "Not so cocky now, are we?" he said contentedly, sipping his
whisky.


   Not that he needed to test me.  A month ago he had made me
strip naked, here in this room in the little gate-lodge.  I had
begged him not to force me, but he had insisted.  This was the
way he was going to pay me back, he'd said.  He had mocked the
limp appendage I called a penis as I stood in shame before him. 
He'd forced me to take off his trousers for him, to reveal the
proud almost perpendicular tilt of his magnificent organ through
his underpants.  He had seen the sick submission in my eyes when
I knelt naked between his knees and he had mockingly accepted my
unconditional surrender.  I was then made to beg to be allowed to
suck his turgid cock. The swollen head of his penis was poised
above me like a cobra head and I had reached out my tongue and
touched the glazed purple glans corona which showed through the
stretched foreskin, a tiny drop of pre-cum beading out of the
meatus.  He had directed me to first trace the outline of the
head of his turgid member, then ring the shaft of the penis in a
spiralling motion with the tip of my tongue, feeling the erect
rod slap against my cheekbones and nose as I did so, then on to
his scrotum sac with the soft, pigskin texture of the skin, the
firm plum-sized testicles nesting swollen inside.  My tongue
strayed into his pubic hair and I smelled the strong scent of his
languid arousal as I again dipped my head and traced my tongue
along the line of his perineum.  He lifted up slightly in the
chair, putting his feet over my bent shoulders to allow me to
tongue his asshole.


   All this I remembered now, on my knees again before him in the
early winter dark in the little gate-lodge of the old manor house
my wife and I were trying to renovate.  How he had ejaculated the
first time into an empty whisky tumbler to show me how copious
his cum was.  The way his ejaculation had spat furiously into the
glass and how he had milked his cum to the last drop from his
still engorged penis.  Whenever I saw my own cum it was just a
pea sized blob which climbed wearily out of my penis and had to
be squeezed and shaken off, not this violent eruption of white
jelly produced by Bratby's shapely plums.  How, later, after he
had come twice in my throat, he had made me drink the cold cum
from the glass as a final sign of my submission.  Now as I sucked
I could feel my master begin to deflate. This was another trick
of Bratby's.  At our first session he had sat in front of me,
naked, his penis erect and made me watch as he willed it to
detumesce slowly until it rested between his legs on the seat of
his chair.

   "Bet that happens to you all the time, old boy" he sneered. 
Christ, what had Patricia been saying to him, I'd though.  "I can
do it whenever I want" he went on and then made me watch as his
gloriously shapely penis with its heavy hood and two clearly
delineated veins and prominent frenulum went into the ascendant
again , rising to assert itself proudly erect against hispaunch.


   Usually he liked to come in my mouth a full three times in an
afternoon and to drag each session out as long as possible,
letting his penis go limp and forcing me to retain it in my
mouth, just tonguing it gently until he saw fit to allow his hot
blood to fully engorge it again.

   "Patricia keeping well?" Bratby asked sneeringly and I bobbed
my head. "Don't worry," he went on, "I'll keep my promise,okay?"

   I made another inarticulate sound, a slight submissive nod of
my head.

   "Sorry about cuckolding you, old boy," he said.  "but a woman
can't go without forever."

   He took a sip of his whiskey and lit another cheroot.  I
tongued the by now wrinkled foreskin of his almost totally
flaccid penis, then felt it very gradually stir and begin to
harden, to become more glossy, wetter under my tongue, press
against the roof of my mouth.  I didn't really think he wanted my
shrewish wife on a permanent basis and it was a sick perversion
that I had to do this to keep him away from her and, more
important, to keep concealed the fact that I was not the father
of the child in her womb..  But he had me and he knew it.

   "Wasn't very nice of you, old boy," he said.  "trying to kick
me out when I couldn't pay the rent.  These university grants
don't get you very far, you know."

   His penis had reached full turgidity now, but he had not yet
given me the signal to proceed.  I was to simply retain it
passively and obediently in my mouth, until this beast which was
now my master was ready to be fully satisfied.


   Not, of course, that this was the only hold he had over me. 
He had caught me spying on himself and that Chinese girl of his
having sex here in the front room and he also knew that I'd liked
to watch him padding naked through the back yard to the pump on
summer mornings, a view I had from our bedroom window, his
polished bald pate glinting in the sun, his massive shoulders and
matted chest hair, and his semi-erect tool, his early morning
piss-hardon.


   It was the Chinese girl he'd used to trap me.  She was
stunningly beautiful.  He knew I'd fancied her and I'd thought
she might cure my impotence.  I was fairly sure it was Patricia's
hard, shrewish coldness that was making me fail with her, making
me unable to give her the child she craved, the baby that she
though would "make her a complete woman". Patricia had slapped my
face and gone berserk when I'd suggested she have sex with Bratby
while I slept with the Chinese girl.  I told her some rubbish
about "trying to save our marriage" But I knew now she'd arranged
the whole thing in advance with Bratby.  Well, I didn't KNOW in
the way you never really know with a woman, but I was pretty
certain.  She'd eventually agreed, then I tried to pull out,
having second thoughts, seeing Patricia so vulnerable in the new
underwear she'd pathetically bought for the occasion.  We'd tried
to ring the Chinese girl who had been away in London, to put her
off, but she had already left.  Trouble was, she'd done a bunk
and I ended up with nobody and Patricia spent the week-end in the
gate-lodge with Bratby.  And she'd double-crossed me by using no
protection.


   Tasting the increased flow of pre-cum, I sucked vigorously,
avid now to satisfy my master, and Bratby began to grunt with
satisfaction, pushing forward in the chair, his penis now
attacking the back of my throat, making me gag, short thrusts,
then a series of long, slow ones, then a final staccato tattoo
and he blew off violently in orgasm in my throat, overwhelming me
with the fullness of his cum, a choking stinging throatful as he
gripped my ears and slammed my face against his protruding belly,
then gripping my head between his thighs, his lower legs crossed
behind my head and mercilessly holding me to him until all of his
copious cum was expelled in my throat.  He bellowed in triumph as
he expelled every last drop into me.


   We did it once more, it took over an hour, and he finally
released me at six o'clock.

   Patricia was even more shrewish now that she was six months
gone and still afflicted with morning sickness.  I knew that she
would quite likely have gone away with Bratby if he had wanted
her - and if he'd had any money. We ate mostly in silence apart
from a few barbed remarks about the mess the builders had left
the house in.  My father had founded Hardcastle Safes and I
remembered him bringing me to see one of these old, two key safes
in a London bank, the letters Hardcastle engraved in the massive
iron door under gilt scrollwork.  My name, he'd told me, as I
stared in childlike wonder.  The company was long gone and the
safes were out of date and contained mostly documents and piles
of old deeds crumbling away in thousands of banks while massive
new safes with electronic combination locks and complicated alarm
systems had replaced them.  The company had been sold after my
father's death and my mother had bought several Park Lane
apartment buildings and opened a couple of expensive flower shops
in London.  I was supposed to be converting this old manor house
into flats and getting tenants for them.  So far only one flat
had been completed - the only tenant was Bratby who had paid no
rent since a month after he moved into the gate-lodge last year.
I wasn't looking forward to mother's next visit.


   Patricia's belly was swollen with pregnancy.  My stomach
rumbled uncomfortably.  It occurred again to me she was filled
with Bratby's child. Bratby had told me that even if I had
managed to have intercourse with my wife on the same night as he
first did, his semen would have overcome mine - that in the
gorilla world dominant males always had a constituent in their
semen that killed off the semen of their competitors and that he
was confident his had this quality.  Again I felt a shameful rush
of shame and disgust at my subjection to Bratby, then a wild,
uncontrollable thrill of pleasure that rocked me to the core.  My
face flushed.  This vile cud, the jellied acidic greyness eruped
in my belly, full of Bratby's cum and I tasted him again, sour
and triumphant in my throat.

   "Please don't belch at table," Patricia said severely.


   Bratby insisted that I become familiar with the various parts
of his penis, pointing out

   that only in this way would I be fully capable of following
his instructions for my pleasuring of him.  We had naming of
parts, Bratby making me touch each part in turn with my tongue,
offering my obeisance to it, the neat slit of the urinary meatus,
the full glans with its swollen corona, and the shaftskin which
he liked me to push back to a position he favoured on his plump
shaft.  It was cold outside and Bratby had lit a paraffin stove
in the tiny living-room of the gate-lodge and I knelt naked
between his knees.  I had been with him for over three hours and
my jaw was sore as I choked down Bratby's third orgasm of the
afternoon.  He smoked a cigar while he recovered and I knelt
before him, awaiting his pleasure.  He smiled sardonically at my
limp semi-erection.

   "I don't want you trying to pleasure yourself, old boy," he'd
said at the beginning.  "I don't know if you're gay but I'm
certainly not.  What you do in your own time is your own
business."

   This particular afternoon, while I was sucking his cock,
Bratby decided to humiliate me further by recounting at length
and in exquisite detail, his conquest of my wife.  He spoke of
undressing her, giving a minute description of her underwear even
down to the labels on her bra and panties, his opinion of her
figure, then told how they had grappled at each other and fell on
the bed, mating like wild animals, before settling down to a
prolonged bout of leisurely sexual intercourse.  They'd had a
break for a meal and, according to Bratby, had continued in their
sexual delirium, falling asleep at last around midnight.  Bratby
recounted how he had woken to find Patricia's hand on his sex,

   "I had a rock hard erection, old boy," he observed.  "I'm
afraid I mounted her without further ado and gave her the ride of
her life."

   I could not understand how I could loathe Bratby so much and
yet I was in thrall to his cock .

   "Funny thing, but she knew she was pregnant that weekend,"
Bratby said smugly.  "She said she felt like she'd never felt
before.  Lucky I got her at her fertile time."

   It was awkward, totally humiliating to be kept sitting on the
floor like this, stark naked before my hairy conqueror and
Bratby's penis had started to become proudly erect again, perhaps
stimulated by thoughts of my wife and his triumphant conquest of
her.  He motioned me to my knees in front of him again, making me
take his penis gently in my mouth.  I pushed back the shaftskin
until he told me to stop, then held the meaty shaft with my lips,
my tongue gently stimulating his glans corona, flicking lightly
over the meatus until Bratby indicated that I should stop and
hold his cock motionless while we could both feel it swelling to
fill my mouth.

   "By the way," he said.  "it gets a bit cold here in the
Winter.  I want you to make arrangements for me to move into that
nice little new apartment you've fixed up in the house."

   I gagged, but he would not let me withdraw to speak.

   "I'll want to keep this place for writing my thesis," he said,
"and, of course, for us!"


   My world was about to fall in.  My wife was just about to give
birth, Bratby was installed in the best and most comfortable part
of the house, and my sister had just arrived, sent by my mother,
to find out what the hell was going on.  Susan was a lawyer but
had had a nervous breakdown after losing a long-drawn out fraud
case a couple of years ago and now did legal and clerical work
for my mother.  Bratby had slyly pointed out that it wouldn't do
if my mother found out that the child wasn't mine wasn't, in
fact, her grandchild as she now thought.  Susan could become
absolutely white-faced with temper when she didn't get her way
and she was at her wits end to know what was going on, what with
the fact the house was still only half-finished, the builders had
disappeared and Bratby wasn't paying any rent.  I was trying to
get by with a mixture of lies and evasion and, although they'd
had a couple of interviews, Bratby was becoming very difficult to
find, except for me when he summoned me to the cottage.  One
afternoon Susan was actually outside, banging on the door while I
knelt on the floor with Bratby's cock in my mouth.


   She rang Mother every day with a progress report and said it
was only a matter of time before she would smoke Bratby out.

   The following Saturday afternoon I knelt on the threadbare
carpet, my mouth and tongue coated with pre-cum as Bratby fought
for his third orgasm of the afternoon.  I was ashamed and sick,
and yet thrilled at my humiliation.  I had the nearest thing to a
full erection I'd had for years and could confidently hope to
masturbate effectively as soon as I reached home.  I sucked
furiously, trying to put out of my mind for the moment what I'd
seen earlier- what I'd tasted in my mouth, what had fouled my
first delirious anticipation of the taste of Bratby's cock.  But
now my stomach rumbled and I gagged as Bratby forced his
monstrously turgid penis against the back of my throat, groaned
and then bellowed with triumph as he released his full wad of
salty, gamey cum to join what felt like an uncomfortably huge
amount of it already in my stomach.  But I was shaken. After I'd
undressed and knelt before him, my mouth salivating to take my
master's rigid cock and humbly serve his pleasure, I'd seen one
of Susan's expensive Italian shoes lying beside the oil-stove. 
And as I bowed my head towards him I noticed that Bratby's pubic
area was discreetly perfumed with Duchesse de Guermantes , my
sisters almost unobtainably expensive fragrance, and the shaft of
his cock was distinctly ringed with her dark red lipstick.  The
triumph in Bratby's hard little eyes had been unmistakable.


   Bratby's cock was swollen and turgid, an angry purplish red,
and the slit eye of his meatus glared out from the crown of the
glans.  For all the striations, irregularities and veins on it,
the skin of his cock looked very smooth.  I had read somewhere
that the softest skin on the human body is not a woman's, but the
skin on the male penis.  The head was shiny and well shaped.  The
ridge on the underside of his shaft was very thick..  . I grasped
his rod; it felt plumply hard.  My hands felt cool against his
warm skin.  My mouth was opening, my tongue extending, as I bent
down to embrace his meat.  As my lips enclosed the firm smooth
head of his cock, I had an involuntary shudder of joy in my total
submission.  My lips closed just past the collar of the head. 
Saliva drooled down my chin.  The first taste of his organ was
tingly, like tongues touching.  Bratby let out a low, guttural
moan.  I could feel the pre-cum which was already oozing from his
meatus on my hands as I lubed his shaft.  My hands slid down its
length. He clasped his hands firmly behind my head and raised to
meet my advance, pulling me farther in than I was prepared for. 
I tried to pull back, but he was not to be denied.  I pulled down
his foreskin and set to work on the underside of the head with my
tongue.  From the moan that escaped Bratby's lips, I knew he
liked that.  I licked under his tip with wild abandon.  I
tightened my lips around his shaft and, sucking as hard as I
could, began working my mouth up and down his monstrous rod.

   Bratby's hips were bucking up off the chair a bit more now,
but, with my hands grasping his cock at the base, I was able to
keep him from pushing in too much, although I was obliged to
acknowledge that ultimate control would be his and his alone.  I
had about six inches of him in my mouth now His cock tasted of
sweat and salt.  It was so slick that, with the quantity of
saliva I was producing, my tongue glided around and my lips slid
up and down its length easily.  My saliva was coming in thick,
viscous doses.  The mixture of spit and sweaty phallus gave off a
pungent, musky smell.  The combination was actually intensely
arousing for me as well and I became aware that I had an almost
full erection.  I had hoped to please him by getting my lips down
to the base of his cock and I had managed to take in about six
inches at one point, but no more.  I sucked him hard.  I stroked
him with my hands and twisted my whole head from side to side as
I plunged my mouth up and down this magnificent phallus which had
made itself my master and I imagined myself in humble obeisance
to it, and I knew that only unquestioning obedience to its needs
would be accepted and that only in the deepest humility and
submission would it reward me with its tumultuous bounty.


   I gulped air in loud breaths.  Bratby may have thought I was
going to start pleasuring myself, for he sternly ordered me to
replace my hands on his thighs.  My cheeks ached from incessantly
sucking this monster.  I couldn't feel my lips from the friction
caused by sliding them across the veined and striated shaft.  My
neck was warm and stiff from the non-stop motion I desperately
tried to suckle the rigid monster harder.  The upward curve of
Bratby's phallus made it dig into the roof of my mouth whenever I
tried to take it further down my throat.  I stood up, mouth still
attached to the beast, to get a better angle.  I got about seven
inches in before I gagged on it.  My brazen attempts to deep
throat his turgid instrument aroused and amused Bratby.

   I realized that Bratby took a perverted delight in my attempts
to swallow him whole and even more in my lack of success.  I
wanted him to come in my mouth.  I wanted him to gasp with
pleasure and twist around on the chair before me.  I had after
all, been working with that goal in mind all this time.  The
twisted perversity of the whole thing hit me hard as if I was
seeing the whole thing from outside.  I began gasping for his
meat like I was French kissing a lover.  My hands were all over
his cock, his balls, his stomach, and his hips.  I put my arms
under his legs and cupped his ass cheeks as he threw his groin up
into my face.

   "Put your finger up my ass," he ordered, gasping, "I want you
to - uh, uh..."

   I lubed my finger in the mess that was drooling down my chin
and Bratby heaved up so that his hairy asshole was staring up at
me and I tentatively prodded it with my finger.

   "Push it in, ream me," he yelled.  "That's it, a couple of
inches in, you'll feel that little gland thing, theprostate...."

   Bratby let out an "OMIGOD!".  He quickly clamped his hands
behind my head and began pulling me harder and harder as he
thrust higher and higher.

   " Suck me, get ready to drink my juice!"

   I had found his prostate, a slick little gland about the size
of a walnut and I began to stimulate it eagerly, gradually
increasing the speed at which I was palpating it.  He groaned
again.  He paused for a moment, then began slamming my mouth at
jack hammer pace.  I felt as though my lips would tear, but,
obediently, I still worked his phallus and his prostate
diligently.  Suddenly, I tasted a stronger gush of Bratby's
pre-cum.  I nearly gagged from it's strong taste, but knew we
were close to the climax. He held me close in the hot smell of
his groin and made short, quick thrusts into my mouth.  He stood
up, still deep in me, my mouth still working his shaft.  He
knocked me back so hard that I had to clench his ass tightly just
to keep my balance.  He half rose from the chair and stepped
forward, until my head was forced back with his plums directly
above my chin.  He began ramming straight down, so hard I nearly
choked.  I was gagging and flailing desperately to stop him
killing me .  In this position he had total control and he used
it mercilessly.  Then, just as I thought I would choke, he
changed over to short, superfast jabs, just inside my mouth.  He
still had a vise grip on my head and all I could do was hope to
survive while he rode me out. .  He removed one hand to grab his
cock near the base.  Immediately, he jerked and spasmed; hot,
salty cum shooting into my mouth.  He bellowed and pulled his
cock out of my mouth and shot the rest of his massive load into
my face.  Droplets flew all over.  He grunted and gasped as he
rubbed his cock, still pumping it's payload, all over my face.

   "Oh God!  Oh God!!" he yelled.

   I coughed and choked as hot sperm leaked down, its strong
taste seemed to burn all the way down.  My mouth was full, cum
dripping down my chin, I gagged on his bitter seed, but he
clamped my mouth to his balls tightly and commanded me to drink
every drop.  I totally submitted again, in agony but also in a
delirium of joy at my total subservience.  Bratby grabbed me by
the back of the head with both hands and rubbed my face all over
his groin. His pubic hairs dug into my cheeks and sperm and spit
coated my face To my horror, I found that every time this man's
huge prick brushed my lips, I mouthed it compulsively.  And this
time Bratby gave me no respite.  As soon as he had recovered he
sat down again on his chair and motioned me to take his now
deflated penis in my mouth again.  He took out one of his Dutch
cheroots from the tin on the table and I heard the scrape of his
lighter.


   He had been doing this more and more lately, so that often I
had his penis in my mouth for an hour or more at a time And these
were the times, as I knelt at his feet with his cock in my mouth,
when it pleased Bratby to gloat over me, giving further details
of his sexual adventures with first my wife and now my sister. 
It had seemed even more indecent, to hear the full intimate
details of Susan's conquest by Bratby.  He exulted in repeating
how "hoity-toity" she had been when she first lectured him about
his unpaid rent.  A "business meeting" arranged by Bratby at
which, he intimated, he would be making firm repayment proposals,
had ended up with Susan underneath him in bed.  Bratby had left
me in no doubt about how many times he had "had her" that night,
and that he had been "giving her one" from time to time over the
past two months.  Susan was now, like myself, terrified of a
visit from Mother.  And there was more to come.

   "Your sister," Bratby said.  "Has she told you?"

   I attempted to withdraw from Bratby's cock to answer him, but
he sternly ordered me to remain in position, desperately sucking
on his deflated member in the attempt to retain it in my mouth. 
No comment was necessary from me and he would tell me what he
wanted to in his own good time.

   "Well, she's preggers, old man," Bratby said.  "Up the spout
by yours truly."

   I almost had the courage to spit him out, to stand up and call
him a bastard.  I was seeing the other side of submission now,
not the pleasurable part, the part that was enjoyable even
through the pain and discomfort.  But this was different.  This
was grindingly hard to take, without any cushion for the blow.  I
was sick with the news.

   "Funny thing is," Bratby said.  "this will be your mother's
first grandchild.  My other sprog, the one your wife is having,
is not a blood relation at all.  So who gets to be heir?"

   I choked.  Mother did not have a high opinion of me anyway,
but if she ever found out I wasn't the father of Patricia's
child, that I was incapable of fathering a child, it was likely
to have extremely undesirable financial consequences for me.  I
had a more than slight suspicion that, if Mother knew the true
position, the bulk of the family assets would be left in trust
for Susan's child.

   "She wants me to marry her," Bratby said.

   "Please, no," I begged.

   This time I did pull away.  Bratby reached out and cuffed me
hard on the side of the head so that I fell back on the worn
carpet and before I could get up Bratby had bounded from the
chair and straddled my body, jockeying up so that he was sitting
firmly astride my chest.

   "Never do that again without permission," he hissed, his angry
little eyes glaring down at me.  He slapped me again.

   "I'm sorry," I said.

   "You were out of order," Bratby said sternly.

   He took the base of his cock between thumb and forefinger and
gently stimulated it.

   "I'm not saying I want to marry her," he said.  "But I'm not
saying I won't."

   "You know...my mother is coming tomorrow," I said.

   "So?" Bratby sneered.

   "That's when the b...balloon goes up," I stammered.

   I was falling into Bratby's retro army slang.  Not that he'd
ever been in the army.  Even if we'd still had National Service,
Bratby would have been too fly for them and would have faked some
disability.

   "Get on the blower, put her off for a day or two," Bratby
said.  "Say you've fallen behind with the bumph or that the
builder-johnny has done a bunk."

   "You don't know what she's like," I said miserably.

   His penis was now semi-erect and he leaned forward supporting
himself on his hands so that his cock was brushing my lips.  I
opened to accept it and Bratby thrust himself deep.

   "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," he said,
grunting with satisfaction as I began to suck him obediently.


   The following day Patricia went into labour at eight o'clock
in the morning and I had to drive her to the hospital twenty
miles away.  There were complications at the birth and I was half
hoping she'd lose the child, although in some ways I welcomed it,
but it all depended on mother not finding out who the father was.
 I rang Susan and told her I'd have to book into a hotel for a
couple of days and Susan said mother hadn't yet arrived. After a
long labour a baby boy arrived on the scene and, thank God, it
didn't look too much like Bratby at this stage, although it did
have rather mean little eyes.


   When I got back to the house two days later Susan was on the
top of the steps at the front door.  I had knocked at the
gate-lodge on the way up the driveway, but there hadn't been any
answer.  I knew Bratby would probably have been annoyed at my
non-appearance yesterday evening, which was one of our set days.
Susan, although only two months pregnant, looked wretched with
morning sickness and it was obvious she had been crying.  She
hugged me.

   "I don't know what to say...about the child." She said.

   I was dumbfounded.

   "What do you mean?"

   "Patricia told me," she said.  "It's not yours."

   "So that's that, then." I said bitterly.

   "Mother has wiped the floor with me," she said, "and you are
in big, big trouble."

   Mother, although Father had been knighted for political
subscriptions in the twilight of his life, bore her title as
though she were the widow of a peer of the realm, or a baroness
in her own right.  I could just see her sailing in here, her
ample well-corseted fifty-three year old figure, her imperious
snobby voice calling for attention, very much the dominant woman
in this household.  Nothing was too small or removed from being
her business not to be interfered in by her.

   "So you're carrying the heir to the throne," I said bitterly
to Susan. "The Hardcastle millions."

   "That's all you know," Susan said bitterly."Mother is looking
for you. She knows everything.  She says she'll never trust
either of us again."

   "Susan, I'm sorry," I said.

   "What HAS been going on.  I don't understand it," Susan looked
sick and bewildered.  "By the way, mother said she'd see you in
the study at twelve - come down to the kitchen first and I'll
make you breakfast."

   "The study is a mess," I said.  "I can't let her see it."

   "Don't go in there," Susan shrieked as I pushed open the door
of the large drawing-room which lay to the right of the massive
hall and looked out across the parkland through two bay windows.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I heard her call out behind me, but I
knew it wasn't to me.

   Mother was on her hands and knees on the settee, her stockings
shoes and panties lying on the carpet, her elegant corset and her
tent-like dress of mauve and pink draped across the sofa-table in
the middle of the room. Kneeling behind her, half-straddling her
thighs, his stubby hands supporting her massive breasts a
cheerful Bratby was tupping her enthusiastically as though it was
all in a day's work for him.  Mother was bucking back into him,
trying to impale herself even further on his massive cock, but
she turned and looked straight at me, her face distorted with
desire or anger.

   "Get out, you fool," she snapped.


   I sat at the kitchen table, trembling with shock.  It did not
strike me for ages that there was anything that was Mother's
fault or that should embarrass her in any way but that I had made
an unpardonable intrusion in her privacy.  That was the effect
Mother had on me.  At least this would divert mother's attention
from me, to some extent and I knew that since Father's death she
had had a number of discreet affairs, but nothing prepares a man
for walking into a room and seeing his mother in the sweaty
embrace of a lover, particularly one taking her from the rear.

   "I can't believe it," I said.  "MOTHER!  With someone like
Bratby."

   "She fell for the fucker the moment she saw him," Susan said
bitterly.

   "This is incredible," I said.

   "That's not the worst," Susan said, turning from the Aga
cooker with the kettle in her hand, splashing water into the
teapot to heat it, then reaching up for the tea-caddy.

   "She's.....Mother, I mean...she's on fertility drugs."

   "Oh my God," I said.  "but why?"

   "She wants an heir," Susan said.  "What she calls "a proper
heir" She was going to get herself fertilised "in vitro" but now
it seems Bratby's been given the job."


   As I knelt before Bratby and prepared to take his cock in my
mouth I felt the familiar flush of shame and the perverted
delight I now admitted to in anticipation of what I was to do. 
From his crotch came the unmistakeable scent of Oriane des
Laumes, my mother's scent, the one she said was named after the
Duchesse de Guermantes in Proust's "A La Recherche Des Temps
Perdus", the scent she said only eight women in London had access
to.

   It appalled me that she had taken Bratby in her scented vagina
and, seeing my expression of shock he said, "She takes me in her
mouth too.  She isn't any better than you, though."

   Even soft, his cock was about 5 inches long.  Drawing it
towards me, I enveloped it.  I was able to take it into my mouth
up to the root, now that he was flaccid.  It tasted different and
I knew I was tasting not only Bratby, I was also tasting my
mother's shame.  I extended my arms in front of me, under his
legs and along his sides, and rested my chin above his balls as I
turned my attention to making Bratby hard.  The hairs on his
scrotum brushed my neck, and his pubes tickled my nose.  All I
smelled was sweaty, musky crotch overlaid with the delicate
perfume of my childhood memories, my mother's scent.  As
humiliating as I still felt to be made to obediently suck his
cock, - not simply to take it in my mouth and pay obeisance to it
but to do so in minute detail the way he ordered me to, it felt
even more degrading to be made to get him up from a state of
complete.flaccidity.  I knew he had not washed since he last had
intercourse with my mother and that this was entirely deliberate.
 It was a totally different experience to have his soft, fleshy
penis in my mouth. Last week he had offered me my freedom if I
could bring him off in twenty minutes.  He had not, on that
occasion, tried to deflate his penis to obstruct me.  Yet I had
failed to bring him off in time.

   "It was so sexy undressing her," Bratby said.  "and to know
she was LADY Hardcastle.

   That corset - it must have cost a thousand quid.  Hand made
satin basque thing.

   Made it so much nicer, so special when I finally had her
naked."

   As I swirled my tongue around his cock it moved around lazily
as if it had a life of its own.

   "She's a hell of a woman for her age," Bratby said.

   The skin was elastic and smooth, very conducive to being
lubricated by saliva.

   "Hell, there's something about an older woman, isn't there? 
But even I didn't think I was going to put her in the pudding
club.  Fertility drugs, eh?" Bratby chuckled appreciatively.

   Aside from the shame of what I was doing, it was very
sensually stimulating to feel this sleeping beast in my mouth.

   "I like a woman who wears stockings too," Bratby said.


   Yesterday mother had announced at dinner that she was pregnant
by Bratby. She was radiant as both Susan and Patricia looked
furiously on .  I was taking care of the baby now, the one Bratby
had sired on Patricia, getting up at night to look after it when
it cried.  Mother had told me that I would have to look after
Susan's baby also when it arrived.  My sister was going to resume
independent work as a lawyer.  Both Susan, now six months
pregnant, and Patricia were wearing necklaces selected by Mother
and had probably been advised what dresses to wear with them. 
Mother was very much the dominant female.

   "Percy and I shall be getting married quietly in St Pauls in
October," Mother had announced sweetly.

   Percy?  So that was his name.  I had never been able to make
out from his illiterate scrawl on the letting agreement.  Bratby
grinned sheepishly from the end of the table

   "I didn't know it was possible to get married QUIETLY in St
Paul's CATHEDRAL" I said rather pointedly.

   "Shows all you know, dear" Mother said, smiling at Bratby. 
"We shall be married at eight o'clock in the morning.  By the
Dean himself."


   I leaned a bit to one side and grabbed Bratby's cock at the
base.  Even soft, it felt to be as thick around as mine was when
hard.  I began trying to suck on it as opposed to sloshing it in
my mouth.  It was difficult to suck the soft dick, it's
elasticity made it hard to form an air- tight seal on it.  But
eventually it began firming up.  Having his dick grow erect in my
mouth was an odd feeling.  It was slowly thickening and gently
forcing me to bend my head back from his crotch or else choke on
it.  Soon it reached the plump turgidity that I remembered..  I
ran my tongue, well salivated, along the bottom of his shaft,
from bottom to top, pausing for special attention under the tip.
I grabbed the tops of his thighs as I began taking him in slow,
deep, deliberate stokes onto my mouth, licking him lavishly as I
bobbed up and down...  I began sucking a bit more intensely, a
little deeper.  Not too much more, though.  I was trying to pace
myself.  I still didn't get much response out of him..  I stroked
him with my hand while I sucked for all my worth.  I continued
the hand job as I disengaged my mouth from him to suckle his
balls and lick the crease of his leg and groin.  In my frenzy, I
was turning myself on.  I returned to the head and was giving it
loud, wet kisses.  I realized I was moaning with desire.  This
seemed to elicit a stronger response from him.  He was now moving
his hips rhythmically with me, coming up to meet my face as I
devoured him.  I heard him gasp.  I began sliding my mouth up and
down his cock sideways, spit dripping all along it's length.  I
moved down his shaft in this way until I was sucking on the ridge
on the underside of it, just above his balls, as I jerked him off
by hand.  I was so intent on my work, I found my hips moving in
and out as well.  I also noticed that I had a hardon. .  For the
first time in years I had a full, hard, throbbing erection.  I
instinctively reached for it.  Bratby noticed what I was doing.

   "I don't allow that, old boy," he said.

   He forced my mouth open with his hands withdrawing his cock
peremptorily and leaving me floundering on my knees.  He took up
a strap from the table and ordered me to put my wrists behind me.
 He wrapped the strap firmly around my wrists behind me, pushing
me forward prone on my face, then sitting firmly astride me while
he whistled tunelessly, adjusting the buckle to his satisfaction.
 When he had finished he got up off me and returned to the chair,
ordering me to take his penis in my mouth again.


   I tried to deep throat him, but could only get about half way.
 He did, however, let out a deep sigh of pleasure.  I started
going down on him in deep, tight- lipped strokes.  He liked it. 
I was getting better at it and he was unable to resist me.  Last
week, before the twenty minutes was up, he was still hard, I was
urging him towards climax.

   He was starting to gasp, to jerk quickly, then more slowly,
then those piston-like strokes.  He was almost on the point of
climax.  I stopped sucking, held his hugely engorged cock as
gently as I could while the minutes ticked by.  Bratby looked at
his watch.  He knew.  I did not want my freedom.  My submission
to him was complete.


   "I'll be here for at least the next six months," Bratby said.
"Maybe for ever.  Finishing off that thesis on the Mountain
Gorillas.  Fair bit of bumph still to be done.  Probably interest
you, old boy, about the way the dominant males treat the ordinary
Joe Soaps."

   As usual I could not answer him.  Who was I to argue?

   "Probably just pop up to London at the weekends to keep your
mother happy and wind the clock."

   When I gasped, he pulled out for a second.  He was breathing
heavily.

   "Catch your breath, I'm gettin' ready to unload." He made me
take him again and resumed pumping.  Once again his dick sought
satisfaction deep in my throat.  The throbbing instrument of his
pleasure was pushed deeper, a probe searching for just the right
spot to plant its essence.  He fucked deeper.  My lips, my
throat, more educated now to his monstrous size, surrounded the
base of his rod and felt the fine, strong muscles of his belly. 
My lips were painfully stretched. .  His sweaty plums moved up
and down on my chin.  I reached around and felt his hard ass.  It
contracted every time he shoved into me.  His engorged penis
expanded in my throat, I felt the head of it flare wildly.  He
was beginning to let go.  The base of his cock then expanded and
his first big wad sped downward.  I had worked hard for his
thick, jellied load and now he was rewarding me lavishly.  The
massive dickhead had found it's mark and, with a final massive
shudder, it began to lather the spot with its rich booty.  I felt
something hot and creamy coat my insides.  It imagined it
shooting straight to my belly.  I knewthat Bratby had possessed
me even more completely than he had possessed first my wife, then
my sister and finally, my mother.  He held me by the back of the
head and I was totally helpless in his grasp, my face buried in
his sweaty crotch, my wrists bound behind me.  I knew I was now
totally his and acknowledged my sovereign master as I savoured
the last copious pumping of his cum down my throat.


   The End.


   <1st attachment end>


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