Chapter 15 #3
“I am sure that if Tristan doesn’t stop trying to circumvent the rules, he’s going to end up over my knee and lose his orgasming privileges for tomorrow too.”
I don’t even grumble about that—a feat in and of itself.
“In addition, you will spend one hour like this, thinking about how you can improve for next time and focusing on how much your cock aches.”
How is that supposed to help me? Answer is it’s not. It’s supposed to subtly make me hornier. Fucking sadists. “Sadists get to have fun too,” Strobavik often says, which only strengthens my assertion that they have brat in them too.
Which makes me think. Yeah. We all have a portion of each of these designations within us, but it’s the amount that teeters the balance and makes us spin out as one classification more dominantly than the other. It doesn’t mean an aspect can’t be brought to the surface from time to time.
I get it now. This is what Master Strobavik has been trying to teach me.
The next day, Strobavik brings an assortment of toys. “We will work hard today, Tristan. I hope you are prepared.”
I tilt my head from the spot on the floor where I’m kneeling for him, already dressed in the shorts and harness.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m going to use your pretty mouth, and we’ll see how long you can go with one of my special dildos.”
My cheeks heat at the mention of dildos and it’s nice to know I have some Markaytian sensibilities left in me.
But I want to know what Strobavik’s cock looks like and I’m good at sucking dick so it can’t turn out to be a terrible day.
Plus, I vow to get just a little bit of payback for the torture he’s put me through even if I end up in a meeting with his Tristan Paddle. It’ll be worth it.
“We’ll begin there,” he says, untying his leather pants and pulling out his cock to sit erect before my lips.
Like all Elven cocks I’ve seen, it’s thick and long.
His alabaster skin allows the veins to show through, dark in contrast and the head is a thick mushroom-shape, covered by foreskin.
I look it over, analyzing it, planning my attack.
First, I’ll show him I’m not a total idiot.
He hasn’t taught me the protocol for this, but I can guess from what I know.
Not to mention, I need to orgasm pretty badly by this point—I could use some good favor.
I gaze large eyes up at him. “May I suck your cock, Master Strobavik?”
It’s hard for him to school his expression; the corners of his lips twitch. “Someone wants to come tonight. Very good, Tristan. You must always ask to do anything, even if it’s implied.” He grips my hair by the roots. “Go ahead, suck my cock, naughty kitten.”
I peer one eye up at him.
He smiles. “That’s your name whether you’re behaved or not.”
Arse!
That’s fine. He’s going to regret everything he’s ever done to me. I know revenge by cock sucking doesn’t seem like the dastardliest plan since he will enjoy the fuck out of this, but he’ll be weak in the knees and that will even the score somehow.
I don’t use my hands since I’ve not been instructed to do so. That would require breaking form and I’ve already caught on that breaking form is to be avoided at all cost, unless given special permission.
I’m tempted to swallow him down whole, but I want to be more devious than that.
I pretend it’s hard for me to reach his cock, even though I’m adept at contracting my core ab muscles enough to bend forward without falling out of position.
I want him to enjoy this in every way, while I drive him a little crazy. I put all my focus into the task.
I begin at the tip licking my tongue around the top.
I don’t get much response from him, nor do I expect it.
I’m sure he’s had his cock sucked a billion times over and has conditioned himself into placidity.
But I’m not trying to reinvent the wheel here, I’m doing what I know ones like Strobavik and Alrik like—becoming a pliant toy who’s ready to please.
Working with Strobavik, I’ve learned a thing or two.
Those who fall into the slave designation enjoy the feeling of being consummately controlled, sometimes down to the smallest of tasks.
Strobavik recounted how one of his client’s slaves needed instructions such as which leg to slide into his pants first and exactly how many peas he should eat from his plate.
It’s even better for slaves when their Master can do all the things they aren’t permitted to do, furthering the divide between roles—this divide creates the feeling they both want. Sometimes the tasks seem unfair—like having the Master clothed while the slave is naked.
In some ways, brats are similar, but we tend to resist, we need help to surrender. This is why we aren’t made for submissive positions, but I’m beginning to see that we do contain similar inner wiring. Given the right environment, it’s inspired from us.
The edges of the world blur as I enter subspace—the earliest I ever have with Strobavik.
I’m committed to this and do all the things I presume he’ll love, using my tongue to lathe down his shaft, wetting him so the cool air can hit the warm spots and make him shiver.
He does.
Next, I cover his cock with my hot mouth, taking him in all the way to the base where my nose nuzzles up to his neatly trimmed pubic hair. As I pull back, I swirl my tongue along the base sucking at the same time. When I hear him panting, I know I’ve got him—he’s enjoying this.
I use my tongue like a snake wrapping around a pole as I suck down his cock and do the same as I suck up, opening my throat, allowing as much of his cock to slide into my mouth as is possible. Baya was large, and I learned to take him. I don’t have a problem with Strobavik.
I carry on like this, my head bobbing over his cock, periodically peering up at him—Tops love that. His body is as relaxed as it can be while standing upright, his head tosses back occasionally and sometimes he stares at me with wondering eyes.
I speed up my ministrations and reveal how far forward I can lean without losing perfect posture. As he’s about to come, I slow down, and he grips the roots of my hair. My scalp complains, but I keep going. “Careful, Tristan,” he says. “I know what you’re doing. You don’t control this, I do.”
Fuck. Wow. More than the edges blur, everything is blurred and I’m on a cloud. Floating. “How can I please you further, Master Strobavik?”
He moans. “Open your mouth, keep it open.”
I do, he fucks into it, I keep my teeth out of the way. He moves at a medium pace—not too slow, not too fast—but when he gets to the end, it’s hard to keep up with him and when he comes, some of it dribbles down my chin.
He wipes the come from my lips. “Even when you are deep into subspace, you’re still a naughty brat, but that was divine. Now, bend over the table, it’s time to put you in your place. You’re going to pay for that.”
And I do.
He’s relentless with his collection of dildos, starting with smaller ones and working up to the largest ones over a few hours.
Halfway through, when it’s obvious I’m going to come no matter how much I try not to, he wraps a leather cock ring around the base of my cock, which leaves me rock hard and unable to come.
My balls feel heavy and I have to bite my lip to keep from begging.
“That’s it, Tristan. When Alrik takes you, you’ll receive him just like this,” he explains pushing the dildo into me and pulling it out slowly.
I don’t know what Elves make their sex toys out of, but it’s soft and pliant and it does a good impression of a real cock. I can feel the veins.
I hold position over the table best I can, but I’m tiring out.
My hands are flat on the table, arms extended and wobbly.
My arse is out, legs spread as wide as they’ll go, close to buckling.
It’s a humiliating position, which means my cock is extra interested.
“Master Strobavik, please. I don’t think I can hold back any longer. ”
Instead of a firm ‘whack’ like I got the last time I pleaded, he’s soft, cooing at me. “C’mon my bratty kitten, you can do this. I know you have it in you. Just a little more.”
I want to do it; I want to please him.
The world blurs further.
When he’s done with me, he carries me to the bed and lies beside me. “Was I good?”
“Tristan,” he sighs.
Oh right. “Master Strobavik.”
“You did very well,” he says, running a hand through my long black hair, his vivid blue eyes study me.
I smile. “This mean I get to come, Master Strobavik?”
“It would, but what you did initially forbids me from giving you such privileges.”
I groan, but then I curl my lip. “I am good at it though.”
He frowns at my cocky behavior but even he can’t stay mad. “I will say, you are excellent at sucking cock—at least your chatty mouth is good for something.”
Whatever. I don’t even hide my smugness. “Master Strobavik, may I?” I reach out to him. I don’t know what other brats, subs, slaves need after all that, but I need to snuggle.
He wants to say no, I can tell, but he can’t. “C’mere, Tristan.”
I wrap around him still lightweight from all the stimulation. My cock remains hard and leaking. Poor thing.
We lay together, and he runs his hand through my hair until I fall asleep. When I wake up a short time later, he’s packing up. I’m harness and shorts free, which means I can be a little more casual with him.
Of course, there’s no such thing as fully casual with your dungeon Master. The energy that builds between you both always maintains an edge of power exchange.
“How are you, Tristan?”
“Good, sir. Well except for this,” I say, motioning to my hard-on from the seventh level of hell.
He smiles a smirky smile. “Behave tomorrow. Unfortunately for you, you’ve given away just how good a submissive you can be.”
Dammit.
“I will expect more from you. Do what you did today without attempting to Top from the bottom, and you might make a good companion for the prince yet.”