Just an Hour part 4 by Ed Cantor

After

His thoughts battled each other as he walked. Like any man, he’d had the kind of subliminal indoctrination that a man had to be in charge, that a man was the sexual aggressor. Add to that, his whole life he’d thought that any man who was the recipient of anal sex – “took it in the ass” was the phrase he couldn’t escape – was homosexual or some kind of prison punch line.

What was this then? This woman he’d come to idealize, idolize, had just taken him completely, like he was some caveman’s prize dragged by her hair. The experience had been exciting, freeing, arousing, thrilling; even when it had been frightening Tasha’s arousal had been contagious. Was that it though? Did his body respond just because she was enjoying herself? He wished it could be so, but the core of him knew it wasn’t true.

It was nice, he realized, to be the one free of decisions. All he had to do was follow her instructions, do what she wanted, trust in her to be the guide take the both of them to the wonderful and exotic places she was dreaming of.

There had been something pleasurable all on its own about straining against those ropes, about being helpless and controlled before her, even about the way that toy filled up his ass and forcibly fucked him. It felt like home somehow, in some strange way. Was this the way it had always been? He realized that she was always the one suggesting where they should go. She was always the one ordering the food, convincing him to stay for one more pint. It was him on her arm, beaming with pride, every time they walked into a crowded bar as heads turned. Not because she was with him, but because he was with her. Was it true? Was he hers?

Even the bet had been her idea. Had she planned this all along? She had said something, earlier today, how she had always wanted to do this. He found himself wondering just what else she would do with him given the chance. A second later, with a blushing smile, he realized he was even happier not knowing. He wanted it to be a surprise.

It wasn’t even shocking when he realized he wanted it. He wanted more of this. He wanted to be hers. He wanted to follow her orders and instructions. He wanted to be helpless at her feet or before her. He wanted he to take what she wanted of him as much as he wanted to give everything he could.

The mental image that formed out of the cloud of his thoughts was not of any specific act, but just of him on his knees before her again. He was offering himself up to her, for all time.

That image resonated throughout his whole body, and he felt his heart pound. He felt a warm glow of happiness spread across his face as the crooked smile curled his lips. He felt his flesh tingle. The air felt fresher than it ever had as he drew in a deep long breath.

His jeans strained as well as his shaft stiffened. His cockhead became sensitised once more, and he realized at last, with an embarrassed blush, that she redressed him in his street clothes over the panties, garters and stockings – not in the boxers he had worn there. He felt the sticky thickness of his previous explosions against his thickening cock.

Yes, it was embarrassing to contemplate what it might be like to be discovered like this. What he had done for her and what she had done to him, all recorded for posterity and amusement in stills and video, might be used against him in the world outside that chamber. At this moment, in his mind, they were just a wonderful record of his start at being hers.

With the realisation of the lingerie beneath his clothing, he felt like he was the keeper of a wonderful secret from those around him. It only made him harder, more aroused, which in turn made the experience of the lace stretched by his manhood more intense. He felt the garter belts with each stride.

It made him ache to be walking to meet her, rather that just to his empty home. He wanted to be right back in her control, in her care..

When he saw her then, looking every bit as sexy as a Vargas model, sitting on the hood of her car in front of his building, it was all he could not to start running to her, running to be hers again.

“Still happy to see me?” Tasha asked, while the coy smile on her lips seemed to imply she knew the answer already.

“Never happier in my life,” he said.

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