Philip grabbed my hair and pulled my head back.
At the time he had done this, I was face down on his floor, my head turned to one side and my arms pinned behind my back. I was propped up on my knees with my legs spread apart. I had been this way for nearly an hour. My legs, taint, and balls were wet from the combination of lube, spit and cum that had been firstly deposited into my asshole by a sizeable group of philips close friends and secondly leaked out to run down my taint, on to my throbbing, almost painfully erect cock, down my legs, past the garter on my thigh, and had made its way into a small damp spot on the deeply shagged rug in philips den.
“You ruined my rug” philip said gruffly into my ear.
I meant to apologize to him, as any good bitch would, but I was moaning from the pain of philips hand pulling my hair. My mouth was open, my wrists hurt from the belt wrapped around them, I was tired, sweaty, and my asshole felt as sore as one might expect it.
Daniel, sitting on the sofa now, his once sizeable cock now diminished, but still glistening with the remnants of his spunk, resting gently against his thigh and balls, interrupted his drinking of water to suggest to philip that I “clean up my mess”. Alex, who had been eager to fuck me first, and had done so with similarly eager hardness and quickness, and had ended up becoming so excited he came within 2 minutes, and who was now stroking his God given excellence slowly, was in agreement. “Why else is the bitch wearing a maid uniform?!” He and his mates chuckled at this and I could hear Philip behind me untying my wrists, loosening his belt and pulling it off my hands. As soon as my hands were free he pulled my hair back and up, forcing me to stand. My ankles felt unstable in the heels they had put me in and I nearly fell again. They were black and tall. They had buckles and clasped right above my ankle. I could feel blisters had formed from me wearing them all day long. I stumbled to my feet and walked backward a few paces, as Philip dragged me backwards.
When he had pulled me back sufficiently, he released my hair and grabbed my neck forcing me to look down at the damp rug. “You see what you did?”
I managed to say “yes” and meant to call him “sir” as philip always liked, but before I could, I was kicked in the back of the knee and forced to fall down again, catching myself on my hands, my head squarely above the puddle. Philip walked up so that both of his feet were beside my head, leaned down and, grabbing the back of my head, pushed me down so that my face was in the wetness. I could smell the cum, the flavored lube, the spit, my sweat… all in the rug. “Lick” philip said. And I did. It was salty, and musky, and sour and it tasted awful… and yet, delicious. “Suck it out of my carpet you little whore!” Philip said, raising his voice slightly. I felt his fingers pulse as if to say “do it baby. For me…” and I did. I knew that I would. I put my lips directly on the carpet and sucked as much as I could out. I knew that I would. “You like that?!” Philip asked. I nodded and grunted. He pulled my head up. “What was that?”
“Yes, daddy”
“Good” Philip said. “I have something else for you to drink. You wanna do that, princess?” And I did. I knew that I did. I knew it was awful, but I did. And I would. I would do whatever Master told me. I would follow his orders and do it with enthusiasm. I would smile every time. And I would be respectful and nice to him. I knew that I would. Daddy owned me. And I was happy, honored and proud for him to remind me of that in front of his friends. I would wear the dress, the panties, the stockings, I would wear the perfume and the glitter, I would shave my legs and arms and chest, I would smile and play coy, or dumb, or childish, if he wanted, I would squeal like a girl when he showed me his cock, I would praise it and worship it for him, I would kiss it, and I would be a slave to it. I would watch him fuck other girls and teen guys in front of me. I would let them have their way with me, if that’s what Philip wanted. I knew that I would drink whatever came out of that perfect cock and I would love it, as I loved him. He would hold my neck and look into my eyes, into my soul, as he spat on me, as he used me… I was his, and I loved it.
I wasn’t always a peice of property… I used to fight it. I would be awake for hours some nights… watching gay or trans porn, trying to work up the nerve to eat my own cum. But I always chickened out. I always would come and feel ashamed, knowing I was pathetic to myself. But then again, try next night I would find myself, my legs above my head, a finger in my asshole, moaning out all manner of submissive and filthy things. Wanting, begging for the presence of a real cock that I could suck. A real actual cock to give me cum other than my own… a real man to strangle me with his dick and make me his bitch. But I never did it… until I met Philip. After Philip, I would never be able to stop.
Philip found me one afternoon at a wedding reception for a friend of mine. I was alone at the time and awfully discontent to be so.
I was wearing light gray trousers, a white linen shirt, brown shoes and lacy panties underneath it all. Philip would be surprised and overjoyed to see these later in the evening.
He approached me on the balcony, champagne in one hand, the other in his pocket. Despite it being his own wedding, he was unbelievably confident in standing very close to me, smiling st me, and making passive gestures with his hand that always drew my eye to his crotch. He was a gifted man, this much was obvious from the outline in his pants. I immediately and uncontrollably was flooded with images of him unbottoning his crisp white shirt, of him unbuckling his pants, of his semi hard dick bouncing out in front of my face… I began to get hot. I put my hand in my pocket to cover up the fact that I was getting hard. I felt my pulse in my neck and my throat get tight. Philip was talking about wedding night antics; your typical guy talk, when he mentioned that he “always liked an additional midnight snack” and winked at me. I immediately wanted his cock in my mouth. I began to salivate.
The conversation meandered around the notion of his hotel and even his room number, with the time he “might possibly be in the adjoining room, having his midnight snack. I would wrestle with this knowledge for the next 4 hours.
Sure enough, when the time came… I would be walking down the hotel hallway, my chest pounding, my face flushed, my cock twitching and pulling with excitement.
Philip, of course, opened the door in a white robe, lazily tied around his waist.
“Looks like I’m not the only hungry one. Come in and sit down”
I did.
Philip never asked me to do anything. He told me. And I did it. He knew this and I did too, even at the time, that I would be whatever that man needed me to be.
When I sat down on the chair he said no, and pointed to the floor. I shifted so I was sitting on my ankles, watching him drink some water before walking over to me and standing in front of where I sat.
I could see the gap in his robe.. I could see his legs and hips, slightly exposed, I could see his stomach and chest, glistening with sweat. I could smell him.. as well as his new wife.
“You’re a hungry boy aren’t you?”
“Yes”
That was the first time Philip slapped me. A small, friendly slap on the cheek. “Yes, sir”
I repeated the directive.
I was scared. At the same time, I knew what was going to happen, and had no idea what was going to happen. I knew he would open his robe enough to let his cock out. I knew I would salivate for it. I knew he would touch my face and make me look up at him. That he would grab my head and pull it closer to his endowment. I knew I would kiss it. I knew I would lick it. I knew I would suck it and worship it. I knew I would take his cum. I knew I would let him fuck me. And he did. Oh my God, he did.
I could smell his wife on him. I could feel his cock grow as I liked it.. tentatively at first, and then more enthusiastically after I tasted him and felt his reaction. I was hooked on it. I needed it to be hard. I needed him to want me. I was drooling. I had thought about this so many times and now, finally a beautiful, big dick was in my hands and in my face and getting hard for me and wanting my mouth. I almost fainted. I grabbed his cock by the base, lifted it up, and put my eager, trembling mouth over the tip.
I melted.
Never had I ever wanted anything so badly.
I knew exactly what to do. It all came so naturally to me. I bobbed my head back and forth and pulled on his cock, stroking it in my mouth. I arched my back and I looked up at him with soft, submissive eyes. I drooled and slurped and sucked and swallowed my spit, flavored with his dried spunk, his wife’s pussy, his sweat and my eager spit. I was in a state of pure bliss.
I was anxious and needy for his cum. He had been bucking his hips and moaning louder and louder. He had complimented me on my mouth and been grabbing my hair, pushing his now severely hard cock into my throat, making me gag. I had spit running down my chin and neck. I had a throbbing election and I wanted to make him cum so badly that I forgot about everything else. I could tell he was liking my wet, sloppy treatment and I felt that 2 more minutes and I would have had him explode; cum shooting out of his beautiful dick all over my face and neck and hopefully making it into my mouth. I was so ready for it. I knew I wanted it for so long and now, I was going to get it. I was so ready. I was so happy to be there.
…and thats when I heard a knock on the door, shattering the cum hungry haze I was in. Philip opened his eyes and looked over at the door and then at his watch.
“Right on time” he said. “Stay right there, slut.” He said, as he walked over to the door, his massive cock swinging in the air, slinging my spit on to the floor as he strutted.
I was disappointed, needless to say, but I wasn’t going anywhere… I was hooked.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/r5wqq2/when_philip_owned_me_mmmf_part_1