My Submissive

"Very impressive," I tell him more. "I really like your cock."

He is better than the pictures in any of my old playgirls, better than any of the males I've seen at strip joints or at parties. He's so strong and handsome, and then with such a big cock too. He could make millions if he ever decided to model his body. If he decided to be a stripper, he would get the best tips. If he wanted to work for a male escort service, he would get all the richest clients.

I sit in awe and admire the thing. The shaft of his cock must be close to eight inches in length, maybe longer if he would ever finish his excruciating slow turn. He still has more to go. And I love the way it points up so high up into the air. I didn't think a big man could point so high. All my downloaded pictures of long males show them dropping down. Some of the pictures even show them holding their own equipment. I always thought it was physically impossible for a male to achieve a true upright erection after a certain length, but this one proves my assumption wrong. The temptation to jump up from my chair and fast forward to the end of the show proves almost overwhelming.

And not just long, but I notice the impressive girth as well. Perhaps that is why it can stand upright. I suppose the base needs to be thick to support such a long length, like a strong girder to support a tall building. The wide girth must give him the ability to stand so high and upright. The curve in the shaft becomes more pronounced the further he turns. I like the curve. It somehow makes his cock look even hotter. The shaft must be near nine inches in length, maybe ten. I will have to measure it later, and then have a pleasant thought of doing so.

I eventually get around to imagining what he would feel like inside me too. The image sends a pleasant shiver of heat through my body. I squirm in my chair thinking about it. He would extend deeper, split me apart further than any man before. I have dildos of comparable size, but a live cock would be so much better. I imagine him on top. Perhaps I will have him ride me like a mounting bull. Most surely I will have to ride him.

Finally, he finishes. He stands before me in side-profile. I am greeted with the magnificent sight of raw cock meat, standing upright and at attention, full on display for my eyes to feast upon. And feast they do! I don't even want to hazard a guess at how long it must be; easily twice the size of a normal male. Ten or eleven inches, I figure; maybe even twelve. It is hard to know in my excited state. Looking at his cock is like looking at a normal cock through a magnifying lens. Soon I will have to measure it to know exactly. First, however, I want to feast.

"Have you ever been told," I eventually decide to ask him directly. "That you have a big cock?"

He doesn't answer. He doesn't need to. His big cock does all the answering for him. I can't believe my luck in finding him. He would be a great catch no matter what, but then I recall his submissive nature too. A submissive male is a rare find, but a submissive with an eleven inch cock is rarer still. Probably only a few dozen must exist in the world. I am so lucky to have this one.

"I stand corrected," I correct my words after recalling his submissive side. "It isn't your cock any more. It is mine!"

This makes him jump. His entire body shivers. His waist pushes out further and makes his cock jab up higher into the air. My words surprise him. His reaction surprises me.

"Let me hear you say it," I want to hear it from his lips. "Who's cock is that?" I point to it.

His head turns away, dejected. He is too ashamed even to answer. Excited too, aroused, but also dejected. I love his reaction.

"Tell me," I prod him with a smile. "Who does that big cock of yours belong to?"

He takes a deep breath before answering. His waist pushes out further. He places himself better on display. "It is yours," He says at last, and then adds: "Mistress Mellissa."

Yes! He understands! And I so much like to be called mistress. I didn't need to tell him. He automatically knew. The sound of the word makes me shiver again. It starts from between my legs and then progresses through the rest of my body. I had no need to instruct him to call me by my proper title; he already knew it.

"Then you've had other mistresses," I find my fingers playing upon the top-most button of my blouse. "I am not the first to take ownership of your cock?"

"Not the first," He tells to my delight. "Others," He seems hardly able to muster up the courage to admit it.

"So you've had practice?" The next button comes undone. The room has warmed with his words. I need to cool myself. I also show him a hint of my breast, a slight amount of cleavage. My boobs are too small to be able to show much cleavage, but I do wear a demi-bra that barely covers what I do have. He seems to like what he sees, as I can tell by his upright erection.

"I've had practice," He admits.

"Then you already know the rules?" I want to know.

"I know," He stutters out a reply. "I must obey."

Indeed he does know. "That's right," I congratulate him by undoing the remaining buttons of my blouse and opening it down the front. His eyes open wide at the sight. He likes them, I can tell, every guy does. Even a submissive man enjoys a pair of bra encased boobs.

"You must always obey," I control him with my bra and boobs. "You must do everything I ask of you."

"I know I must," He answers like my chest puts him under some kind of hypnotic spell.

"No matter how embarrassing it may be for you," I continue. "No matter how degrading, even humiliating, you must do everything I ask of you."

"Yes, Lady Mellissa," He accepts so gracefully.

He calls me by another title: "Lady Mellissa." Not as prestigious as Mistress, but I detect a similar obedience in the words. Briefly, I consider correcting him, but then decide I like it.

"For a test," I decide on a test of his obedience. "Get up on the table," I point to a solid oak table sitting in the middle of my kitchen, and then add almost as an afterthought: "On all fours."

To my delight, he follows my instructions. Not right away. He expresses a slight hesitance, a deep intake of breath just after I say it. We will have to work on that. For now, the hesitance somehow makes the result seem even better, further adds to his debasement.

He uses one of the chairs to help step up to the table. It is a strong table, adequate for my needs. He gets up on it on his knees, and then bends forward to place the palm of his hands on the other side.

I like the effect. His cock is so damn long it practically touches the top of the table. The helmeted head would touch if not for the fact it points so far forward, extending far enough forward to lengthen past his belly.

"Very nice," I compliment him on the display. "Like a dog," I add as I think about it.

Indeed he looks very much like a dog, a pet of my very own to play with around the house. Mostly I would like to play with him in the bedroom, but then there's also the kitchen table, living room, and maybe even the yard out back too. I find no reason to wait. He looks so inviting, so tempting.

"I like that pose," I tell him as I slide a kitchen chair up to the side of the table. "Now hold still while I check you out."

I take a seat. I sit down at the table as if sitting down for a meal. Directly ahead of me, only inches away, extends his incredibly long length of cock. With me sitting and him on all fours, I am at eye-level. It comes closer than ever before.

"You need to get accustomed to this position," I decide to tell him. "Over the next few days you are going to be spending a lot of time in this position while I repeatedly check you out."

He says nothing in response. His head and mouth turn outside my view. There's only his magnificent cock. His taunt ass too, but I am mostly attracted by his cock.

"Like a dog," I tease him with my earlier words. "Like a dog who is hung like a horse. I will often place you in this position so I can play with my pet."

As he looks forward, I bring my hand up to feel my own breasts. I like feeling my own breasts, feel their small size, squeeze my fingers into my own flesh. It feels erotic. His hands would feel good too.

"All you need to do is nothing," I reach my opposite hand forward and hint at what I have planned. "Just stay still and don't move while I check out your size."

He flinches at my remark. His cock seems to almost throb in response. I so much like the look of it. This is why I so much enjoy being a mistress. The control, the power I have over him; it makes me feel so aroused. No way can I hold out any longer. I simply have to have it.

He flinches again when I touch. Perhaps my fingers flinch too. I flinch at the realization that I have actually touched his naked member. My fingers touch it again. I don't want to show any weakness, no hesitance.

"It's so hard!" I run my fingers up and then back down his length. "So meaty!"

First one side and then the other, I run my fingers up and down the length of his magnificent cock. Indeed it is larger than normal, like twice the size of a normal male. It may even be bigger than any of my dildos. I wonder what it must feel like for him, for a guy to have such a massive appendage between his legs.

"A fine length of meat," I speak to him as I feel. "An excellent cut of beef."

I feel the bottom too, and then go around top. I pull down on it slightly, and then must pull down on it harder to get it to move. The thing is so damn hard it is actually difficult to move. I pull it straight down so the tip grazes against the top of the table. This startles him. It makes him fidget once again. I know it comes from the sensitive head of his cock touching the top of the table.

"I'm going to so much like playing with it," I hint to him about the things I have planned. "And I want you to know that I'm going to be playing with it a lot over the next few days."

A moan escapes from the lips of my new pet. I don't know if it comes from my hand or my words, but what does it matter?

"Oh yes," I want to hear more. "You're cock is going to be getting a lot of attention the next few days."

Another moan.

"A lot of attention from me," Eventually I get around to grasping it in the palm of my hand too. Not just my fingers, but my entire hand. I notice my fingers can't reach all the way around. No way do they fill the entire length either. Only half of it fits at once. His cock is long enough for me to use both hands if I wanted to, and then I think to myself, why not?

With my right hand around the base of his member, I use my left hand to grasp the upper half. I grab it like a baseball bat. It reminds me of playing softball in grade school, when we used to pick who got the first pick for their team by steadily grasping up the length of a bat. It is the same now, except I use his length of cock instead.

"Your big cock is going to be fun to play with," I decide to squeeze down with both hands to check how hard he is. "I've always wanted a cock as big as yours to play with whenever I wanted."

I'm not disappointed. He lets out a moan. I only squeeze harder. My fingers barely sink into his flesh. He has a true boner, a real hard-on.

"Very nice," I compliment. "But stay still. Stop moving around so much."

Despite my instruction, he wiggles around quite a bit. He also moans. I can tell it disturbs him, the way I squeeze his cock. I make to let go, act as though I am relaxing my grip, but then give him a squeeze with both hands as hard as I can.

"Oh!" He lets out the loudest moan yet. Not that I mind when he squirms and moans. I actually kind-of like it. It reminds me of how much control I have.

"Stop moving," I tell him anyway. "I told you to keep still! How do you expect me to concentrate my attention on your cock with you moving around all the time?"

Only then do I let it go. His cock is actually red from my tight squeeze. It seems to have softened a little too, but mostly I notice the redness. Quickly it rebounds to its full and hardened state.

Then I notice something else as well. I notice it at the tip, a short string of it. I wonder if he sees it. I wonder if he even realizes he is doing it; at what I am witnessing. I have actually squeezed it right out of him, like ketchup from a bottle.

"You can't wait," I tell him. "But you are going to have to wait. You don't have a choice. I still have two more objects I need to check out on you."

I think he knows what I am talking about because he moans out some more. I talk of his balls, of course. They hang nicely between his legs. I could simply grab hold of them, but decide a mistress should be a little more creative.

"Stay still," I stand and move farther down the length of his body, down to his ass. "You just need to remain frozen in place while I check out the rest of you too."

I reach in from behind, from between his legs. He must part his legs to get my hand to fit, but it does fit. I come in from behind and take hold of his hanging balls.

"These are nice too!" I notice how big they feel. "I don't have any of my own to play with, so I'm going to play with yours. I so much enjoy playing with a good nut sack."

I start by rolling them around with my fingers. I feel the pair of egg-shaped orbs, the swollen sack. Perhaps it is just my over-active imagination, but my first impression of his balls are that they are larger than normal. I suppose it makes sense for a large cocked male to also have a large pair of balls. I take my time to move them around with my fingers and then bounce them a little in my hand too. He squirms when I bounce them. He squirms a lot more when I take them in the palm of my hand as if to squeeze them.

"Are you worried I'm going to squeeze down on your nuts?" I tease. I know what he is thinking, but then tighten my grip to add to his anxiety. "Don't worry, unless of course you disobey me, but you won't disobey, will you?"

"I will obey," He answers like an obedient pet.

"Good boy!" I treat him like a pet. "Because I will not hesitate to give your nuts a tight squeeze if you ever disobey me."

"Yes, Mistress Mellissa," He seems to talk an octave higher while I hold them. I so much enjoy his reaction. I so much enjoy the power and control I have over him.

When I eventually let go and sit back down in the chair at his side, I notice he has pre-cumed a lot more. Not just a string, but a whole puddle of it.

"Such a messy boy!" I giggle as I let him know. "You're horny. You so much need a mistress."

I tease him like he is a shy and weak little boy. He certainly doesn't appear shy or weak. He looks more like a muscular lineman for a football team. But I see the inside. I am capable of seeing what he really is; what he truly wants to be.

"Stand back up," I order next. I enjoy him well enough on all fours, but then I decide he will be more fun to play with in the standing position. His cock somehow looks longer when he stands. I like it long. I so much like the way it points so straight up into the air.

"First some questions," I decide to find out more about him. "First I have some questions about your previous experience at being a slave. I need to know about your various talents and past training."

The direction of my inquiry takes him by surprise. I suppose he expects me to go for it, to lunge for his cock and use his body to satisfy my own sexual desires. Probably a lot of women would do so, given such a magnificent male creature. I am tempted myself, I must admit, but then remind myself that I have plenty of time later.

"Now, about your cock," I treat it almost like a job interview. "How does it feel right now?"

Me sitting and clothed, him standing and naked; it seems so ironic, so unfair for him. He doesn't know quite how to answer at first. He is not accustomed to being questioned like this, I can tell.

"Just answer the question," I prompt. "It's not a difficult question. I want to know. I don't have a cock myself, so I'm curious to know what yours feels like right now."

"Hard," He finally admits. "And heavy!"

"I bet it is," It certainly looks hard and heavy. "I bet it would really like something to fuck right now, wouldn't it?"

He nods an answer.

"Perhaps even me?" I question. "Do you feel a desire to perhaps fuck me right now?"

"Very much," He admits. "Please, if I could, Lady Mellissa?" He actually asks for my permission to do so.

"Not yet," I disappoint him. "First my questions. I must determine if you are worthy of the honor of giving me a long and satisfying fuck."

This gives him some hope; hope I might actually allow him to have intercourse with me. He wants to, I can tell, desperately. I want it too, but hold him back.

"Did your former mistress have you trained?" I ask of him as I stroke. He flinches again. I feel it through his cock. Interesting, the shaft of the cock that I grip with my hand. It behaves as a type of lie detector, an inner window to his soul.

"I'm not sure what you are asking," He can barely speak. "Trained?"

The look on his face confirms it. The red cheeks, the sideways glance. He knows exactly what I ask; just doesn't want to admit it.

"Trained," I repeat my original question. "Did she discipline you? Did she teach you how to, as I like to say, hold it inside?"

The cheeks turn redder. I feel it once more in my hand. His cock, it flinches, as if afraid of what I might do to it. It has reason to fear. I plan to do so much.

"I'm not sure," He stumbles out an incomplete answer. A tone of hesitance is apparent in his voice, as if afraid of any slip-up that might give away what he really thinks. "I don't understand what you ask," He still doesn't want to answer.

I disagree with him. "Oh no!" I give the shaft of his cock a tight squeeze to physically voice my answer. "I think you know exactly what I mean. "Tell me boy, did your former mistress train you to hold it inside, to hold back? Are you trained to make sure your mistress first is satisfied before you take satisfaction yourself?"

I release my grip and return to the slow stroking action I impose upon his still young, inexperienced cock. I so much like them young. Young and full of vitality, as they like to say. Still a man, but a young man, I think again this one must be no more than a teenager.

"She tried," He eventually answers my inquiry. "I mean I tried, but I never fully met her expectations."

His answer intrigues me. It means he has potential. I naturally wonder how well he may be trained, and then how often he was trained.

"Trained, but not fully," I rephrase, considering the implications of what he says. At the same time, a tremendous desire wells up from deep inside to accelerate my strokes along the exceptionally long shaft of his cock. I want to stroke faster, squeeze down harder too, but must hold back this first time.

"I'm sure it was difficult for you," I pretend to feel sorry for him. "It's difficult for any male, I know, to resist his natural function. But it must have been exceptionally difficult for you?"

"It was," He agrees, naturally.

"Because of your size," I guess the reason why. "Because of your long length, because of your wide girth, it made it difficult, didn't it? It becomes more difficult for a male to control himself when he has so much more to control."

"That's right!" He agrees, and then he adds. "Thank you for understanding, Mistress Mellissa."

I so much enjoy it when he addresses me properly as his mistress. The words give me a sense of power and control while at the same time further amplifies his debasement. I also understand, I really do, but in ways he can't possibly realize.

"So you are trained," I question if my understanding is correct. "But not fully?"

"That is correct," He confirms.