I'm not a masochist. I hate pain. I won't tolerate humiliation. I just happen to love him. No. That word is too weak. I require him. He's as necessary to me as oxygen. Food I don't require. Water I can do without. Oxygen and him. That's all I need.

It's been a month since he's allowed anything in my asshole. No dildoes, no cocks, no fingers, no tongues. He feeds me laxatives and piss so I don't even have big shits coming out.

I sit at the end of my chain and watch his cock fucking other holes. I drool. My bowels ache with the need for him. My hole tries to open itself.

He spits in my face while he fucks that other hole and I come. I didn't even know was hard. I was too busy watching his cock go in and out of that lucky hole.

He has that other hole piss on me. I refuse to drink it. He knows I hate all others. He punches me on the side of the head three times. I stare at him through stars, defiant.

He laughs and tells the other hole, "You're not good enough for my boy. If you're not good enough for him, you're sure as fuck not good enough for me. Get out of here, you worthless shit. See if you can find a dog willing to fuck you. You sure as hell won't be able to find any men who'll want to."

I'm hard again as I hear his words. I gloat as I watch that hole drag itself out of here.

He stands in front of me and smiles down. He's proud of me. He's going to reward me.

I am on my hands and knees. I lick my lips and open wide. He pisses down my throat. I don't like to lose a drop but he likes the gurgling sound and the sight of it spilling out of my mouth.

He finishes and I wait for his command. My cock is jerking. My asshole wants so bad to open up but instead it squeezes shut even tighter.

He leaves. My neck aches from keeping my head back so I don't spill. I know how to swallow air without swallowing him. My arms start to shake.

I don't know how long he's gone. Time always stops when I can't see him. I don't think there is an existence without him. He takes it with him wherever he goes and where he's not, life stops.

He returns. "Swallow."

I gulp and gulp some more. I lick the spills from the floor.

He fills my mouth again. He watches me with that glazed expression that I live for. "God, boy, you are so fucking amazing."

I come.

"Swallow."

I swallow and beg for more.

"Not now."

He's looking down on me. He's thinking. He's very pleased with me.

I shiver. I paw lightly at his boot, asking permission. He's that happy with me right now that I feel that bold.

He smiles. "Go ahead."

I untie his lace with my teeth. I lick his boot. The taste, the taste, the taste. He pisses and comes on them all the time to keep them primed for me. One of my most special rewards.

I paw at his foot again and he lifts the toe off the ground. I mount it and hump myself raw. He spits in my upturned face. I know ecstasy.

I convulse with a dry orgasm. I am seizing, unable to control what I am feeling. It's too much, this need for him. Knowing it will never be enough--never be complete--is what makes this loss of control so violent. I want to reduce myself to a molecule and be absorbed into him.

My body finally slows. My dick is bleeding. His face is rapture. It's not enough, but it helps. I've done this for him and I feel some peace.

I lay my face against his boot until I am calm, then I pull his lace into my mouth with my tongue. I suck it down like spaghetti. It wedges in my throat. Our eyes are held together. We need to witness each other's pleasure.

Spit and phlegm ooze out of my mouth. My throat convulses, trying to dislodge the lace, but the lace is a cock and fucks my throat.

His hand moves on his cock. His cock is thick. A muscle. It is powerful and meaty. His head is huge. His head alone fills my mouth.

I drool some more from the thought of his taste. The feel of that head against my lips, my tongue, the roof of my mouth.

His hand strokes his cock. His hand does things to it that I can only dream of. He strangles it, he punishes it, he pumps it and pumps it and pumps it until it is black.

My cock is tearing from my body. It wants to touch him. It wants to be that cock.

His lips curl at me and he grunts his arrival. Huge globs of white drop onto my face. I come and I come and I come. Stars prick before my eyes. I can not breathe. I am soaring.

He squats and he paints his cum onto my face with his cock.

I can not breathe. I can not breathe. It will never be enough but this is so close. This is divinity.

I think I am still coming. I can not tell. Black appears around the edges of my eyes. Oxygen and him. That's all I need. But if he chooses to take oxygen from me, I will let him have it. Just not him. Not him. I must have him.

He pulls the lace out slowly. It feels like getting fucked. My throat has collapsed to the size of an asshole and it feels like getting fucked.

He holds the lace before me, dripping and coated. It looks like ass juice. I was fucked.

He gives me his cock and I have a few seconds to experience it. It is flesh. Pure flesh. I hook my teeth behind the ridge. I push my tongue into the slit. I taste what I need. His flavors are all there. His essence.

He pulls my head back, my hair in his fist. My neck is folded in half. He plunges his cock straight down. I gag and erupt, spewing phlegm and spit.

He pulls out and I am empty. He steps back, just out of reach. I strain at the end of my chain. I whimper. I can not reach him.

He laughs. He loves me. I hear his affection. It makes me more desperate.

I lunge hard and almost black out. I get my fingertips on his boot. He moves closer and I fall on it. I rub my face against it.

He kneels in front of me and holds my face up. He has that glazed look again. He is rapture.

He kisses me on the lips.

He folds my neck back again and I open my mouth. He spits and he spits and he spits. I beg for more.

He goes behind me and I know.

He forces his way into that hole that has been closed for so long. His cock tears me and it is pleasure. From him it is all pleasure.

He fucks me.

I come. I don't come. I don't know. It doesn't matter.
There are no words, no descriptions, no definitions. It is life. I exist because he is fucking me.

I drown in his fluids. His cum. His piss. His spit. I scream, writhing and slithering, my body in contortions I didn't think possible as I try to become fluid, too.

I have visions, huge and loud. I become fluid and the picture is rewound. I suck back into his dick and his mouth and I spend eternity as part of him.

I have no idea how long I am out of my mind like that. I come into focus exhausted and shaking, murmuring strange sounds.

His face is near mine. His eyes are glazed. His skin is covered with bodily slime, even blood. I don't care where it came from.

He brings me my bed--a pile of his clothing, rich with his scent--and I crawl into it.

He fills my bowl with his piss and kneels beside me. He kisses my forehead, then my lips.

"I gotta go. Think of me while I'm gone."

I laugh. He says the stupidest things sometimes. Will I breathe while he's gone? Of course I will.

I burrow into his clothing and listen to his fading footsteps.

I close my eyes and inhale him. Oxygen and him. That's all I need.

 

©2002 Mel Smith - Contributor's Bio