He urged me back gently and with his left hand he lifted his balls and his cock. I dropped down and kissed his balls immediately. I ran my tongue over them as I had been taught to do with the ponies in the stable, mouthing them and feeling them tenderly with my teeth, and then I took the c**k in my mouth and pulled hard on it, a little startled by its thickness. It was no thicker than the large phallus, I thought. No, just that thick, and the dizzying thought came to me that he had prepared me for himself, and when I thought of him entering me that way himself I became almost uncontrollably excited. I sucked and licked at the cock, tasting it, and thinking this is the Master and not one of the other slaves, this is the man who has all day silently commanded me, subjugating me, defeating me, and I felt my legs slide apart and my belly dip down and my bu**ocks rise in a spontaneous motion as I sucked, groaning softly.

I almost wept when he lifted my face. He pointed to a small jar on a little shelf in the paneled wall. At once I opened it. The cream in it was thick and pure white. He pointed to his c**k and at once I took some of the cream on my fingers. But before I applied it, I kissed the tip and tasted a little trace of moisture. I dabbed my tongue into the tiny hole, gathering all that was there of the clear fluid.

Then I rubbed in the cream well, even creaming the balls and smoothing the thick curly white hair with the cream until it was glistening. The c**k was dark red now, and shuddering.

The Master put out his hands to me. Tentatively I dabbed more cream onto his fingers. He gestured for more, and I applied it. "Turn around," he said. I did so, my heart racing. I felt the cream in my anus, rubbed deep and thick, and then his hands wrapped around me, the left scooping my balls up and binding the loose flesh to my c**k so that my balls were pushed forward. I gave a short desperate imploring cry as I felt his organ slide into me.

It found no resistance. I was lanced again as surely as I had been by the phallus, and with hard slapping thrusts I felt it jab deeper and deeper. The hand around my c**k forced it out straight, and

I felt the Master's right hand surrounding the tip, the cream slipping around the tortured flesh and then the hand tightening and riding the c**k up and down in rhythm with the thrusts into my backside.

My loud groans echoed through the room. All my pent-up passion jetted out, my hips rocking violently back and forth, the c**k splitting me open, and my own organ shot its fluids in wild spurts out of me.

For a moment I saw nothing. I rode the spasms in darkness. I hung helpless on the c**k that skewered me. And gradually on the very end of the wave I felt my c**k rising again. My Master's greased hands were coaxing it to rise. And it had been tormented too long to be so easily satisfied. Yet the rally was excruciating. I almost whimpered to be released, but my whimpers sounded too much like sighs of pleasure. His hand was working me well, his c**k pumping me, and I heard myself giving the same short openmouthed cries I'd given under the Whipping Master's paddle on the turntable. I felt my c**k jerking as it had then and saw all those faces around me, and I knew I was alone in the Master's bedchamber and that I was his slave and he wouldn't let me go until he had brought it again thundering out of me.

My c**k was remembering nothing. It was driving back and forth through his slick fingers, and his thrusts in my rear grew longer, faster, rougher. I felt myself coming to the pinnacle as his hips slammed against my scalded rear. And as he let out a low shuddering moan, jerking wildly into me, I felt my c**k explode again in the tight sheath of his hand, and this time it seemed slower, deeper, more utterly devastating. I collapsed back against him, my head rolling on his shoulder, his c**k thumping and twitching inside me.

We did not move for a long moment. Then he lifted me and pushed me towards the pillows. And I lay down and he lay down beside me. His face was turned away and I stared drowsily at his naked shoulder and white hair. I should have slept irresistibly. But I didn't.

I kept thinking I was alone with him in this bedchamber and he had not yet sent me away, and all that had happened to me would not recede. It stayed ever-present in my mind. It made my tongue catch in my mouth as if on the verge of speech. It made my eyes remain open.

A quarter of an hour passed perhaps. The candles gave a lovely dim golden light, and I leaned forward and kissed my Master's shoulder. He did not stop me. I kissed the small of his back and then I kissed his bu**ocks. Smooth, free of all welts and red marks, virginal, the bu**ocks of a Master in the village, a Lord or Sovereign at the castle.

I felt him stir under me, but he didn't speak. And I kissed the crack between his bu**ocks and darted my tongue down to the pink circle of his anus. I felt him quicken slightly. He moved his legs ever so slightly apart, and I pushed the bu**ocks a little wider. I lapped at the little pink mouth, tasting its strange sourness. I bit at it with my teeth.

My own c**k swelled against the sheet. I inched down in the bed and moved gently on top of his legs, crouching over him, and I pressed my c**k against his legs as I licked at the little pink mouth and stabbed my tongue into it.

Softly I heard him say, "You may take me if you like."

I felt the same paralyzing astonishment I'd felt when he told me to get into the bed. I kneaded and kissed his silky bu**ocks and then I shot up, covering him, pressing my mouth to the nape of his neck and sliding my hands under him. I found his c**k already stiff and I held it in my left hand as I jutted my own c**k into him. It was tight and scratching and unspeakably luscious.

He gave a little wince. But I was still well-greased and it slid back and forth easily. And I clasped both my hands around his c**k and pushed up so that he was on his knees just barely, his face still pressed into the pillow. And then I galloped him hard under me, spanking my belly against his soft clean bu**ocks as I heard him moan, pulling his c**k stiffer and stiffer, until when I heard him cry out, I released into him, his se**n spilling over my fingers.

This time when I lay back I knew I could sleep. My bu**ocks simmered under me, and the welts itched on the backs of my knees, but I was contented. I looked up at the green satin canopy over my head, and consciousness slid away from me. I knew he was pulling up the coverlet over us, and that he had put out the candles, and I knew his arm was over my chest, and then I knew nothing, except I was sinking down and down, and the soreness in all my muscles and in my flesh was lovely.

TRISTAN'S SOUL FURTHER REVEALED

Tristan:

It must have been mid-morning when I was awakened and quickly pulled from the bed by one of the servants. Too young to be a Master, surely, the boy seemed to relish the task of feeding me my breakfast in a pan on the kitchen floor.