I arrived on time, that is to say five minutes early. I had left work a little early so as to have time for a quick shower and change of underwear. The directions to the ordinary looking suburban ranch-style home had been easy to follow. The neighborhood had a comfortable moderately prosperous middle class feel to it - typical middle American suburbia.

Jim came to the door himself when I rang. He was maybe an inch or so taller than me but certainly not heavier; his faded, well worn jeans and his tight polo did not disguise his slim athletic build. He looked every bit the marine he had once been. He had a full head of light, greying hair and his chiseled jaw was clean shaven. I judged him to be a little younger than me, probably in his mid-fifties.

“Steve,” he said, as if informing me. His direct glance pierced me as he proffered his hand. I shook it firmly, sensing his strength.

“Yes. And you must be Jim,” I said lamely, feeling a bit on my back foot already.

Jim chuckled and said, “Yes, I must be, mustn’t I?” He stepped aside. “Please come in.”

I entered a large foyer that was separated from the rest of the house by a Japanese style sliding wall panel. There were cubby-hole shelves on the opposite wall with a row of shoes of various sizes beneath.

Seeing that Jim was barefoot, I asked if I should remove my shoes. It seemed like the polite thing to do.

“Yes, along with the rest of your clothes.” Ignoring my jaw drop, he continued, “You can leave them here.” He gestured toward the shelves.

I must have been staring stupidly - I was truly flabbergasted - because he placed his hand gently on my shoulder and with an air of patient condescension, he said, “I am the only person allowed to wear clothes in my house. Except in this room, of course.”

“Well...” I stalled, “Maria wanted me to meet you. Can’t we just...”

“Sure,” he said in a patient tone, “We’ll just stay here and chat a few minutes. Then you can leave.” He looked at me impassively. “So, what do you want to talk about.”

Now I felt at a complete disadvantage. It dawned on me that Jim liked it that way and was making it that way. I struggled for a foothold; there had to be a way to put us on common ground. But I failed.

“Well, I was hoping to see Maria,” I ventured, knowing it was futile.

Jim laughed. He looked at me appraisingly. “You know that’s not going to happen, don’t you?” he said not unkindly. “Not unless you trust me and do as you’re told.” He stood up tall and was suddenly perceptively more imposing, folding his arms across his muscular chest.

“My wife has a knack for making friends, but she can’t always keep them. You can be her friend, but only if I please. That is, if you please me.”

Something in his voice and, I suppose, something in his stance and demeanor too, made me look at him differently. I took in his height, his figure, his steely blue eyes, his muscular arms, his tight, pale jeans, the hair on his naked toes. I scanned back up his strong, denim-clad legs, until my eyes rested on the bulge in his crotch, the clear outline of a thick, circumcised cock.

I told myself that it was only because I wanted to see Maria so badly that I said, “Okay, I’ll get undressed,” but I knew at that moment that I would end up drinking from that cock of his.

“Good boy,” he said softly, unfolding his arms and patting me on the head paternally.

Feeling relieved and oddly elated, I quickly undressed, down to my disposable briefs and then, looking to Jim for guidance, I removed them too at the nod of his head.

“Don’t worry, we can handle accidents if they happen,” he assured me as he slid the panel open, leading us into a spacious living room with three separate furniture groupings. I followed him toward the closest chair-and-sofa group on our left as Maria entered through a doorway on the right side of the room. She was naked except for a black leather collar around her neck.

“Oh, Steve, it’s so nice to see you again!” she cried happily.

“And it’s wonderful to see you!” I said, trying to sound gallant, but probably coming off as purely prurient, as I ogled her luscious form. Her dark brown nipples and her luxuriant glossy bush made my cock swell. I turned toward her, expecting a welcoming hug, but she stopped and looked to her husband for guidance.

“Not yet, baby,” Jim said. “I need a moment with Steve first. Sit here,” he told me, gesturing to the large, stuffed chair.

I sat, noting that the fabric was somewhat stiff, like a glossy canvas, but comfortable nonetheless. Jim sat on a similar chair facing me.

“Maria tells me you’re a piss-drinker, is that right?” It surprised me how demeaning he made it sound.

“Um ... I drank Maria’s piss, yes.” I was suddenly embarrassed, hearing how shameful my admission must sound ... but certainly not to these people!

“No one else’s?” he asked.

“No ... well, except my own,” I replied truthfully.

“Did you like it?”

“Yes,” I said simply, blushing a little. Why was my cock now completely hard?

“Are you a piss-pig?” he asked with a tone of mild curiosity.

“Uh...” He had me flummoxed again. A piss-pig? I figured that would be someone obsessed with it. It sounded like a test. What was the right answer?

“I don’t know, sir,” I said, deciding that a show of humility was required. “I don’t have enough experience yet.” My straining dick made it clear that I hoped I was following in the way Jim wanted to lead me.

“I have a bladderful of alpha male piss. Do you think you can handle it?” he asked, still sounding casually conversational, although my heart was pounding to the rhythm of my pulsing cock.

“Yes please, sir,” I managed to croak without sounding overly eager; I was too conflicted for that. Is that really what I wanted? Was it just for Maria? I was beginning to think not.

Jim got up and stood before me. “Take out my cock,” he said quietly. Out of the corner of my eye I could see that the naked Maria was watching us.

The butterflies in my stomach didn’t deter me. I reached for his fly, I undid the button, pulled the zipper down, and revealed a beautifully shaped cock, soft, about six inches long, thick and meaty in my hand as I grasped it to pull it free, noting its weight and girth.

“Put it in your mouth.”

I opened wide and engulfed the shapely, bulbous head, my lips closing neatly behind the flared ridge, making a nice round “O”. It felt so natural; the head fit perfectly into the arched roof of my mouth and rested comfortably on my tongue.

“Look at me,” Jim said.

I looked up into his eyes. He looked down on me, gauging my reaction.

“Tell me what you want.”

I had to let his cock slip out of my mouth to answer. “May I drink your piss, please, sir?” I said, blushing. I closed my lips around his cock again and caressed his piss-hole with my tongue.

“Look at me,” he said again.

I looked up to see his evident superiority; it was obvious that he was in charge and he liked it that way. I watched his face as he relaxed the flow-valve of his bladder and his piss suddenly began to stream into my mouth. His eyes were fixed on mine, watching me swallow quickly as the hot liquid filled my mouth, surging in strength and volume.

This was a new sensation, not just the power and the heat of his stream, but also the loss of control. I was helpless to prevent Jim from peeing. I could spit out his cock, I could refuse to swallow, but there was no escaping his piss. It was either going in me or on me. It was amazingly stimulating.

He peed into my mouth and I duly swallowed, gulping it down with a visceral satisfaction, proud of keeping up without leaking, and proud to meet Jim’s expectations, to serve him as his urinal. The thought of the utter servility of my role made me giddy with lust. I felt like I could almost cum from the excitement I felt at guzzling his bitter, rancid piss while he looked down on me, both figuratively and physically.

“Look at me,” he repeated. In my blissful reverie, I must have closed my eyes. I opened them quickly and held his gaze until the stream of his piss finally stopped and I had consumed all he had to give. I felt a strong bond to him then, and I sucked reverently on his cock, caressing and squeezing it with my tongue as we maintained eye contact.

“Good boy,” he praised me, taking his cock from me and tapping me on the top of my head with it. “Maria was right, you’ll make a good plaything.” He put his lovely cock away. (Did I really think it ‘lovely’?) And he signaled to Maria.

“You can play with him now, my pet,” he announced as he took a seat to watch.

Maria rushed to me and I got up from my chair just in time to receive a big hug from her, our naked bodies melding together deliciously, her hard nipples and my hard cock accentuating the contact. We kissed. Knowing that she could taste her husband’s piss on my lips and tongue made my cock throb.

“Show him your ass, dear,” Jim directed.

Turning her back toward me, she bent forward, displaying her ample derriere, in the center of which sparkled a large red jewel of some kind of glassy material. It was tantalizing, drawing my eyes to her a-hole like a magnet.

“Go on, boy, get down and pull the plug,” he ordered me.

I was instantly on my knees, grasping the rim of her butt-plug and tugging, breathing the heavenly aroma of her hot pussy. My erection had not slackened in the least and was aimed obscenely toward her dripping snatch as I prised out the plug with a loud pop and exposed her gaping, round poop-chute.

“Lick it, boy!” Jim said with enthusiasm. “Lick her dirty hole!”

I had never licked an asshole before, but there’s always a first time. I complied with no less enthusiasm than the master of ceremonies had displayed.

My lips were pressed hard against her anal ring as I thrust my tongue as deep as I could and ran it around the inside of her hot tunnel, feeling the smooth, slick texture of it and tasting the bitter-sweet spice of it.

Maria moaned with pleasure. My cock surged ecstatically and I redoubled my effort to stimulate her, trying simultaneously to thrust deeply and lap at the tightening ring that threatened to squeeze my tongue. Who knew ass-licking could be so delicious?

Jim issued another command: “Down, girl! Assume the position!”

Maria got down on her knees and elbows with her ass up and her head on the floor. This spread her ass even more invitingly, and I dove right back in to resume my feast.

But Jim stopped me. “No!” he barked, as if commanding an animal. “Mount her! I want you to breed her ass.”

I didn’t have to be told twice. I had never tried anal sex, but I having already tongue-fucked Maria’s luscious tush, I was primed and ready. I scootched up behind her, grabbed her wide hips and pressed my pre-slick cockhead into her wet, winking anus.

A little more pressure popped the head through her tight, gripping ring of muscle and into the hot tunnel of her rectum. It felt amazing! With a little back-and-forth motion I inched my way into her silky tightness until I was in to the hilt. I held it there, flexing, making my cock pulse. And she responded, moaning, with answering clenches that tightened her hold on my shaft.

A moment later, I was fucking hard, in and out of her, thrilling to her clinging grip when I withdrew and then slamming deep on the reciprocal stroke, gaining in speed and vigor until I exploded. I collapsed on top of her, vibrating with orgasmic tremors as my cock spewed wave after wave of my passion-fueled cum deep into her bowels.

“Good boy!” Jim said, evidently pleased with my performance. “That’s what she needed!” Maria was mewling wantonly beneath me and rubbing her pussy avidly.

I was starting to separate myself from her, but Jim said, “No, don’t move. I want your cock in her.”

She came then, moaning and collapsing with me on her back, my cock still deep inside her ass, although it was beginning to shrink.

“Stay there, boy. Don’t move,” Jim said as I started to withdraw.

“Um ... I have to pee,” I explained. As soon as my erection had subsided, the urge started building.

“Good. Don’t move,” he replied. “I want your piss inside her.”

The idea was so exotic and so exciting that I felt my cock twitch despite the fact that I had cum barely a minute before. My cock twitched, my perineum twitched, and then I felt my urine begin to flow.

Peeing so soon after cumming has a sexual tinge to it, reinforcing the connection between the two functions, but on top of that, it was thrilling to think of where my pee was going: deep into Maria’s bowels.

“Mmm ... oh, yes! Fill me up with your hot piss!” Maria moaned fervidly, arching her back as if to make room inside her belly for my liquid waste.

As my stream waned to a stop, I tried to imagine the piss inside her. Would it slosh around in her guts? Would it mingle with the cum I had just deposited there? My penis shank to a point where it just slipped out of her ass, and she clenched her orifice, closing her hole so that all that piss and cum stayed put.

“All done?” Jim asked. “Good boy!” Hearing those words was beginning to affect me. It made me happy to think he was pleased with me, and I felt a little proud of myself.

“Now, lie down on your back,” he directed me.

As soon as I had complied, Maria backed up and squatted over my face, her hairy pussy glistening with wet arousal and her little pucker clenched tight. The smell of pussy, sweat, cum, and piss was a heady aphrodisiac. I could feel my cock stirring once again.

“That’s enough. Get off of him, Maria.” Jim said brusquely. “Clean up your mess.” He tossed me a towel and said, “Come with me.”

I wiped off my face and crotch and followed him past the entrance to the kitchen, into a hallway and through a door he opened into a small but neatly furnished office.

“Sit down.” He pointed to an old-fashioned wooden office chair. I parked my naked butt on the hard, but surprisingly comfortable surface and looked at him expectantly. He remained standing.

“You did well,” he said matter-of-factly. “Do you have any experience with the BDSM lifestyle?”

“No,” I confessed. “I’ve heard of it, but I don’t know much about it.”

“Maria wears my collar. She’s my slave. She is absolutely and unconditionally obedient to me.” He paused, his eyes drilling into mine, into my soul. “We both like it that way.”

His silence seemed to require a response from me, so I said exactly what I was thinking. “I understand. She is a lucky girl.”

“Yes, she is. And I’m lucky too.” He smiled. “I’m not sadistic enough to train a reluctant slave. Some masters are, but that’s not my style.” His smile was gone, his eyes narrowed. “Tell me, Steve, do you want to wear my collar too?”

I faltered. I was simultaneously frightened and flattered.

“Don’t answer yet,” he continued, “I just wanted to get the offer out there.” He shrugged a little. “It’s a big decision.”

My face must have signaled my relief, because he reached out and patted me on the head. “As I said, you did well. You were a good boy.”

Why did those words make my cock twitch?

“You obeyed my every command without question and without hesitation. You would make an excellent slave.”

I must have flinched at the word ‘slave’, because he suddenly slapped me. Not very hard, but sharply enough that my left cheek stung. I felt my face turn red and my eyes tear up, more from bewilderment than from pain.

“I think you want to be a slave,” he said, “My slave. I’m not a sadist, as I said, but I’m the master and I will dole out punishment as I see fit. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” I replied meekly. My meekness, however, did not extend to my cock, which was now standing up boldly.

“I have made you an offer. I used your given name. That is the last time I will ever call you that; as a slave you will be a possession, not a person. Now I’m going to test your obedience. By the end of this test you will know, and you will give me an answer. Yes or No. A ‘Yes’ will put you into my service to be obedient to me in all things at all times. A ‘No’ will exclude you from these premises and from further contact with Maria and me. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.” I felt a little light headed and totally conflicted.

I wanted to say ‘yes’ and surrender to him completely; my cock was drooling at the thought.

I wanted to say ‘no’ and walk away from this insane situation; my conscience was screaming at me to break free. I was thankful that I didn’t have to choose. Yet.

“Good.” He stood in a commanding posture, hands on hips, feet apart, looking like a drill sergeant. “On your knees!” he barked.

I got off the chair and knelt before him, looking up at his impassive face. I remembered the last time I had been this close to his crotch; I was reminded of how attracted I had been to his cock. I was eager to see it again.

“Suck my cock, boy!” he said, fulfilling my unspoken wish.

I opened his pants for the second time, only this time his cock was stiffer, harder to wrest free of its confines. By the time I had it in my mouth it was longer, thicker, and harder than ever. And even more magnificent! I felt privileged merely to be in its presence, let alone to be making love to it!

Because that’s how it felt. I kissed it, I licked it, I sucked it, wanting only to please it and elicit a real, natural, sexual response from it; to make it cum. I had drunk Jim’s piss, now I wanted - no, I needed - to drink his cum.

I quickly realized that this wasn’t about me. The modicum of control I had imagined for those first few seconds was obliterated when Jim grasped my head firmly with both hands and rammed his big rod down my throat, choking me.

With brutal force, he held my head in place, impaled on his cock, while I convulsed spasmodically, coughing around the thick invader, spewing saliva as tears ran down my face and snot flowed from my nose. Just when I thought I would pass out, he pulled out and I gasped desperately for air.

“Let’s try again, shall we?” he said calmly before slamming his cock back in with the same brutality.

Something broke in me at that moment. It was instantly and crystally clear that I was helpless, that he had all the control, and that he was going to do whatever he wanted. He could do this all day if he wanted to. I surrendered. I was done fighting him. If he wanted to kill me this way, so be it, I would die.

And in that moment my panic evaporated and I became calm. And, lo and behold, I found I could breathe; the girth of rigid cock-flesh straining my gullet wasn’t going to kill me after all. And as he held me impaled, I felt the gag reflex no longer; instead the pressure there felt almost benign.

I looked up at him then, into his eyes, and saw an immense satisfaction. And that made me absurdly happy. Now I welcomed it - his cock, his control, even his brutality - and I caressed him with my tongue as I sucked hungrily.

He fucked my face, making long strokes that drove deep into my esophagus. It was amazing how good it felt. My lips were aglow with pleasure, tingling delightfully as inches of cock slid through their grip, back and forth. And that constriction point that had made me gag and choke before had now become erogenous, like a vaginal g-spot, increasing my arousal every time his cockhead popped through it. The thought that he was going to cum, to breed my mouth like a pussy, had me on the edge of cumming myself.

And then he pulled out. “Turn around, pussy boy. Knees on the chair,” he ordered.

I knew what was going to happen. And I welcomed it! The one thing I would have said I wouldn’t allow if you’d asked me a couple of hours earlier, I was now ready to concede. The ultimate submission of one man to another. I leaned over the back of the chair and presented my ass to him.

He was good to me. He took a moment to swipe his sopping shaft along my cleft, wetting my anal opening with not just saliva, but also the viscous throat-snot from deep inside my gullet. Then he pressed the bulbous head of his fuck-pole against my tight pucker until it gave way with an almost audible ‘plop’ and a surge of pleasure/pain, and the knob was inside me.

Then, with gentle but persistent pressure, he inched his way forward, painful but tolerable to me in my roused state, until I felt his thighs pressing against me and he was all the way in. I could feel the muscles he had violated relaxing, easing the pain and discomfort. He felt it too and responded by pulling halfway out and then pushing all the way in again.

Moments later, he was fucking me. Really fucking me. He was plunging his long, thick cock in and out of my ass with steady, rhythmic, full-length strokes. The pain was gone. The discomfort had morphed into an intense pleasure that grew proportionally to the increasing speed and vigor with which he was thrusting in me. He began to grunt with the effort, and I to moan as I thrust back toward him in wanton abandon. I still wanted his cum, but now I wanted to be bred. To take his cum here in my ass.

As if reading my mind and determined to thwart my will, he pulled out completely. I groaned, feeling a void, a tremendous loss, a desperate need unfulfilled.

“Get down,” he commanded, “Back on your knees.”

I scrambled into my previous position. I stared up longingly into his eyes, my mouth open in a wide ‘O’ with my tongue hanging out, dripping with my servile spittle.

“Eat my cum, cocksucker,” he said, placing his cockhead into my mouth. Then, with a mighty tremor, he spasmed and shot hot cum into my mouth.

My tongue felt the load pulse through his cock before it blasted the back of my mouth, where I declined to swallow at first, needing to taste it, to taste the essence of this man who had possessed me and opened me to a new life. Because I knew he had changed me.

“Yes,” I said after I had finished swallowing all his cum.

It had tasted good to me but I knew that it was nothing inherent in the cum itself, but the depravity and the servility of the act that made it delicious. I wanted this. I wanted to be Jim’s slave. And without even touching my stiff and straining cock, I came too!