Once again, I was ushered back into that same warm, enclosed, brightly lit, cossetting environment, soft, incidental music playing to set a mood and was soon naked, but remained standing – ignoring the treatment table which awaited my body’s length to be stretched out on it for the scheduled reason I was there.

I, on the other hand, seemed controlled by ulterior forces. The manipulative element was in control. I knew what I should be doing – that being to stretch out on the treatment table – an indicator for the treatment to begin, but, instead, and as with the previous encounter, I assumed the position adopted the last time I was there, standing at one end, around four feet from a mirror, checking my continually imperfect but slender naked body – stripped free from any form of clothing or jewellery – because I could.

Again, gentle hand patting against my increasingly less flaccid cock caused blood to surge into it, yet the fight within my mind saw the other half of the personality, the conscience, fight back, remonstrating that this was not perhaps the best thing to do for reasons not concluded, and my cock began to lose its hardness once more.

The manipulative within acknowledged this and reasserted control. The gentle but fairly rapid hand-patting resumed to a state where I was semi-erect, not massively so, but enough so that he, very familiar with every inch of my body, would very much know I was ‘ready’ when he entered the room.

Suddenly, the door opened. Within seconds, it was evident that he needed no further invitation and was soon inspecting his submissive with his eyes and hands. As before, hands wandered, caressing the rounds of my evidently popular and, well shaped bum cheeks, reaching between my legs to teasingly stroke my cock, balls and perineum, firmly tweaking nipples and brushing the palms of his hands across my chest, as I lustfully accepted being used as he saw fit.

Clearly aroused himself, he didn’t need me to undo his belt and jeans. His boxers were also soon down to allow his hard cock to spring to attention and he guided his body close in front of me. Momentarily, I celebrated being so sufficiently erect, but briefly reflected and compared back to the many occasions over many years that the heterosexual within took issue with any such need and applied pressure to stop it from happening.

My self-declared bi-curious status had, over the years, been developed though, not always of my own making, and I was concluding that I was instead, at least with this man, (other opportunities having yet to present themselves to judge the reaction) accepting myself as ever more bisexual.

In the heat of the moment, something within briefly sparked that this behaviour was somehow not ideal, not right, not what typified the first 40 odd years of my life, my sexuality and my relationship. It was more than a little ‘closing the stable door long after the horse had bolted’ in my timeline of sexual development though anyway.

The situation before me – a naked and vulnerable sub – meant that any such thoughts were quickly dismissed as not part of the moment, as this man continued doing what he had actually been doing for a number of years – gleaning the nature of action and conversation and determining steps to take as time passed – gradually developing me, slowly, surely, consentingly, to be his willing toy, his project.

Allow me to digress.

Those conversations over the years had caused me to open up, awaken sexually, declaring the extents of my interests or curiosities. Years of activity, (including my unbeknown to him crossdressing and chastity), plus declaration and willingness for taking anal when in his company, had made him aware and helping him to plot his course with his sub.

An increasing willingness, eagerness and desire to suck [his] cock had developed over time, the potential for him to involve me with others of my own choosing, to let him use my increasing liking for anal, to be regularly finger fucked and, on one occasion, fucked with my own dildo which had, at one appointment, been sneaked in to a bag on the off-chance, but a chance that presented it self after declaring during the session that a) I liked it, b) I did it and c) that the toy was in the room. I remember how much he relished the moment, the euphoria of learning something else about his project, and for the opportunity to arise.

Some time ago, years ago I’d say, and probably after some intense playtime, he said that he would fuck me given the opportunity. (At one point in history there was a reference to a condom in a discussion of some sort and a question as to whether I had one – but I didn’t. Had I have had one, who knows what would have happened)

It seemed almost throwaway, a theory, an ideology but at the time, an impossibility. I remember theorising that I’d want to use protection which he quite obviously agreed with. There had been intense moments of intimacy as my relationship with him grew ever closer that I made some borderline insulting, vague, wishy washy wish to be “safe” without really explaining myself very well back then. It matters little. I am now where I am in the greater scheme of things.

Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, close proximity, body to body, cock to cock. As before, I led with the frotting, cocks gripped as one. There were brushing embraces throughout, as close to a kiss as possible without there being one, warm loving embraces as the cocks were worked.

The vivid imagination within relished at the actuality being played out, me taking a ‘power bottom’ role, holding two hard cocks together. Suddenly, I drew away from the embrace as pre-cum started to ooze.

In the silence, punctuated only by the soft music, we both began feeding off the cum as it seeped out, taking it in turns to draw it to mouth, appreciating the consistency and flavour and wanting more. I would not disappoint as the pent up semen slowly flowed from my highly stimulated cock. He spoke briefly, whisper-like, to tell me how good my cum tasted. I agreed breathlessly and seductively as we continued to take turns to sweep the cum away with a finger and draw it to mouth for some minutes. At one point, I thought he was going to feed me, but instead, he continued to taste, or lubricated his cock with my semen instead.

There was to be no opportunity for me to suck his cock on this occasion. This wasn’t part of the plan.

He ushered me to the other side of the treatment table – closer to the cream and oils and directly in front of the mirror – and broke off briefly to get some cream before returning to our close embrace for more frotting from me, allowing him to reach round, cream me up and begin soundly finger fucking me, both of us intently and lustfully watching in the mirror.

At the last appointment, I remembered bending over allowing him and inviting him more access to more soundly and deeply finger fuck me. This time, I was in front of the mirror in close proximity, and found myself turning away from it and bending over the treatment table. The signal I gave him by bending over was not interpreted in the same way as it had been before.

Though there was not much room, he moved sideways in between my available, hot, ready and lubricated behind and the mirror. I felt his cock sitting between and being rubbed around my bum cheeks. Something was telling me what was coming and I seemed powerless and unwilling to stop it. His cock tip probed the outer rim of my hole and briefly pressed – almost by way of a test or dare. He momentarily withdrew as if something was holding him back, but the withdrawal was only short.

His hands took a grip on my hips for leverage and he pushed inside me. Bareback. No condom, no protection.

For the first time, other than my own use of a dildo, with which I had total control, my anal virginity was broken in an instant. The moment I never thought would and could ever happen – was happening.

I was – finally – after all the years of experimenting, alluding to being trained but with the actual act having previously been thought never to happen and instead it being more like roleplay – being fucked by a real cock. In a moment of apparent disbelief, I asked him, even though I knew intently, whether he was fucking me. He confirmed with a brief, breathy, lustful, carnal “Yes”.

Now, he could have taken great offence at the inference that his cock was not big enough for me to feel it, but there was no offence taken. The opportunity presented to him to do something he’d yearned for over a number of years was right there before him. His conquest. The confirmation of the act from him was a carte blanc for the rhythm, pace and thrusts to increase. I was happy to be taken. There was nothing in the world beyond the door from the room – nothing. This was the world in those intensely erotic moments.

I gave myself further by uttering the words “Finally” or “At last” (I don’t remember which now!) as if telling him it was about time he fucked me and perhaps questioning why it had taken him so long. I was in fact, telling myself that this really was happening and began pushing back to relish being properly fucked and willingly taking his cock – AND bareback! As if it needed confirming, I also confidently extolled that he was breaking me in and taking my virginity, confirming that I was his trophy and perhaps, now, his fuck toy, not just his toy.

I was in ecstasy but in another way, some form of both partial denial and partial acceptance.

Given the chance, I would have just allowed him to carry on fucking me for as long as he wanted and how he wanted. The real reason I was there paled into insignificance. I just wanted him to fuck my tight but eager, open hole and dismiss my virginity thoroughly beyond doubt. I merely became a fuck toy and lost track of the environment around me, dismissing my life outside completely.

He had already told me as he fucked me how tight I was. Had I have still been covertly cross-dressing and doing anal at home, as had been the case until March 2020, I might have been more receptive and an easier, looser fuck.

I could have clenched tightly around him, but it was not about me. It was about him fucking me.

After some minutes, he told me that I was so tight, I was making him want to cum inside me. I suggested that neither of us wanted that and he agreed, yet in the darkest recesses of my mind, I did want to be filled and to hell with any consequences. But, anyway, I had been a tight fuck that pushed all of his buttons. I relished the moment. He pulled out and erupted all over the floor, hot cum splattering in all directions.

The euphoria of having given myself to him and of being virginally fucked and broken in meant that I too brought myself off, the same small area of flooring littered with two warm, creamy, impassioned loads of semen.

With that, after a sufficient clean up, I assumed the position, face down n the treatment table, cum continuing to leak from my cock, my ass, freshly fucked. Within minutes, it was as if nothing had just happened, chit chat and pleasantries etc. prevailing. and afterwards, I nonchalantly left to contemplate over the coming hours and days what had just happened and that my next appointment was to be soon.

And I’m still contemplating. Can I now not be a fuck toy? Was that I one off? It seems impossible to think that way. How can that possibly be? Where does it go from here? What impact will it have on my life? What precautions should I now need to take to remain comfortable and, to my satisfaction psychologically, safe? What inferences am I making that he is not safe? It seems rude and judgemental, yet equally rational to even think about it, less talk about it.

I aim to go with the flow though and there has been plenty of that. I am satisfactorily and somewhat smugly, no longer an ass virgin (Mistress IS happy but wants me filled with cum now) and after contemplating the error of my ways and worrying probably unnecessarily over possible consequences for a few days , am now anticipating being fucked again. Soon.