Chapter 2

“Make sure you do that exactly” she said. “Now you may go”.

I felt as though I was in a daze. Accepting what had happened but not necessarily believing it. But here I was. Lying in bed in just a pair of white boxer shorts and the task I had promised to deliver. Promised Helen Helen who had made me her slave. Quiet, seemingly innocent, and shy Helen. I did not feel trapped or cheated. I felt; I felt; I felt taken. Controlled. Wanted. Wanted by Helen. Helen my Mistress.

My mind wanted to break out in a flight of fantasy, detailing the future possibilities. It was hard to accept that come tomorrow it will probably be all a mistake. A dream. A gorgeous fantasy. And even then, it may end up as a painful disappointment. I was hoping for and expecting too much. Helen. Surely it could not be for real. To last. To grow so that I obeyed and was submissive in all forms of my life. A life serving her. A life serving Helen.

I shook my mind back to the object in hand. I grinned. The object in hand, my penis, felt rather more interested in its future at the moment than usual. Well it was not in hand yet. I grinned again. Was I feeling this good or was it laughing in the face of panic. As I slipped my hand onto the cotton material I felt my cock gently rise to meet it. It had no doubts about what it wanted. It had been a long time since it had served its favourite cocktail. Moment of no return? Don’t be stupid I could do it or not and then serve Helen or not. This was not a life changing moment they were so fond to say these days. Or was it. My hand gently pressed down and took hold of my shaft.

Fuck! I had not thought about the ‘object of my cumming desire’ Surely that was easy. So many women to chose from. I enjoyed the thought of having so many of them. Any time I saw a women a little flash of desire would lighten my thoughts. Did this one have to be special. No, I guess not. OH FUCK IT DID ... This might be the last one I ever get to chose to fuck. My last wank woman. From now on, heaven knows how often I would be allowed to wank and if so, would I have control of its direction?.

Well one thing was for certain. If I wanted the chance to live as a slave to this beautiful women. To please her and do her wishes and be treated as well or badly as she desired. If I did want to prostrate and humble my self. To be a mere object and not necessarily a sex object to her, then I did have to obey this first command. If I did want to enslave myself I had to wank off.

My cock stiffened and rose, pushing the cotton material into my hand, which pressed back and gripped its muscular engorgement forcing a soft sigh from my lips. I had just seen Victoria Coren on the last TV show. No need to chose now. I was having her, My cock had found it’s target, I groaned louder as I forced my cock as hard against my pelvic bones as I could. Hell I needed to fuck!!!. If I had been calm I would have thought of the many ways to work my rod, the teasing and tempting and edging and pain and pleasure and enhancing these with the movie in your mind of the sex with Mz Coren. If I had been calm!?. But I wasn’t. I had suddenly been transported to a bed with Vicky Coren, naked, her breasts large and swinging as she rode my cock. Her language was foul, or was it mine. Or was it both of us? But the crudity and vulgarity showed that this was fucking. Hard deep and relentless fucking. Not loving.