followers. He could close his eyes and silently yearn to be tied to some pole or tree, legs held apart by a spreader bar, ridiculous cock dangling in the forest breeze, while men of all shapes, sizes and sexual persuasions could liberally gaze at him, touch his parts, weigh their melancholy nudity in the palm of their hands, poke his holes, gently slap his butt cheeks, examine his teeth as he lay in wait to be auctioned. Yes, knowing how unprotected he was down there literally made him feel like a sexual slave in waiting. He did have a roaring imagination, he surely did.
Back in Europe, he would often wake at night from savage dreams of exotic, novelistic adventures full of rape and heavy use by Masters. His lust raged at the idea of such ravishment and, in each scene or sequence that his fever lust conjured, there were also beautiful women watching as he was being defiled, all with Mona Lisa smiles, some clothed in sheer silk, others in progressive stages of dishabille, calmly appreciating the sheer art his torturers exercised as they took merciless advantage of his now so prominent cock and shiny balls, and induced endless after endless erections until he felt he was about to burst, as each toy, object or alien penis dug its painful way into his innards, stretching him more than he ever thought possible, deepthroating him until he gagged, and all because his shaven parts betrayed his abject condition as a sexual slave available to all, obedient, displayed, ripe for defilement.
He even went so far as advertising himself in veiled terms as a sub for use when he ventured onto internet chat-rooms, hoping for takers and resolute enough to follow through should someone local and reasonably dominant actually take him up on the offer. But no one did; all they sought were female subs, no doubt similarly shaven. His sisters in arms.
And, at four or so in the morning when the dreams came to their spectacular climax (you couldnât call them nightmares after all), he would invariably be untied, his collar straightened and a chain attached to it and he was led, so naked and proud, to a stone table where the spreadeagled body of the most beautiful young blonde he had ever dreamed of was on public display to the leering gaze of a growing crowd, and, as a reward for having survived his own ordeal, he would be summoned to mount her, required to perform, take her virginity. And always he would note that she also had been depilated, her cunt lips gaping open like flowers and the skin surrounding her gash slippery like glass, smooth as a window pane, and when their flesh made contact, it would be like an electric shock. Nakedness touching nudity, as obscene as two skeletons mating, the nee plus ultra of performance art. At which stage, he usually woke up, his cock hard and raging and ready to spill, like the lone tree in a defoliated forest.
But the first time after the Caribbean holiday that he took a woman to bed, she barely noticed the uncommon hairlessness of his crotch, didnât even remark upon it. Which not only brought him down to Earth but also made him temporarily impotent. They parted in embarrassment. Anyway, he reflected, following her departure, she had just been trimmed and the conjugation of his cock and her cunt would have certainly lacked the obligatory magic. From here onwards, he swore to himself, he would only have sex with women who were similarly, utterly nude. Somehow, it became a clever, subtle question he would manage to introduce into the proceedings of seduction from an early stage. Some minded and went their own way; others were coy, some intrigued, partly offended by his outrageous and indecent curiosity about the state of their parts. He was not a totally hopeless case and still practised the art of courting with a modicum of elegance and intelligence and did not find it impossible to convince an attractive woman to go to bed with him, but he invariably became the one to surprise and disappoint them
Back in Europe, he would often wake at night from savage dreams of exotic, novelistic adventures full of rape and heavy use by Masters. His lust raged at the idea of such ravishment and, in each scene or sequence that his fever lust conjured, there were also beautiful women watching as he was being defiled, all with Mona Lisa smiles, some clothed in sheer silk, others in progressive stages of dishabille, calmly appreciating the sheer art his torturers exercised as they took merciless advantage of his now so prominent cock and shiny balls, and induced endless after endless erections until he felt he was about to burst, as each toy, object or alien penis dug its painful way into his innards, stretching him more than he ever thought possible, deepthroating him until he gagged, and all because his shaven parts betrayed his abject condition as a sexual slave available to all, obedient, displayed, ripe for defilement.
He even went so far as advertising himself in veiled terms as a sub for use when he ventured onto internet chat-rooms, hoping for takers and resolute enough to follow through should someone local and reasonably dominant actually take him up on the offer. But no one did; all they sought were female subs, no doubt similarly shaven. His sisters in arms.
And, at four or so in the morning when the dreams came to their spectacular climax (you couldnât call them nightmares after all), he would invariably be untied, his collar straightened and a chain attached to it and he was led, so naked and proud, to a stone table where the spreadeagled body of the most beautiful young blonde he had ever dreamed of was on public display to the leering gaze of a growing crowd, and, as a reward for having survived his own ordeal, he would be summoned to mount her, required to perform, take her virginity. And always he would note that she also had been depilated, her cunt lips gaping open like flowers and the skin surrounding her gash slippery like glass, smooth as a window pane, and when their flesh made contact, it would be like an electric shock. Nakedness touching nudity, as obscene as two skeletons mating, the nee plus ultra of performance art. At which stage, he usually woke up, his cock hard and raging and ready to spill, like the lone tree in a defoliated forest.
But the first time after the Caribbean holiday that he took a woman to bed, she barely noticed the uncommon hairlessness of his crotch, didnât even remark upon it. Which not only brought him down to Earth but also made him temporarily impotent. They parted in embarrassment. Anyway, he reflected, following her departure, she had just been trimmed and the conjugation of his cock and her cunt would have certainly lacked the obligatory magic. From here onwards, he swore to himself, he would only have sex with women who were similarly, utterly nude. Somehow, it became a clever, subtle question he would manage to introduce into the proceedings of seduction from an early stage. Some minded and went their own way; others were coy, some intrigued, partly offended by his outrageous and indecent curiosity about the state of their parts. He was not a totally hopeless case and still practised the art of courting with a modicum of elegance and intelligence and did not find it impossible to convince an attractive woman to go to bed with him, but he invariably became the one to surprise and disappoint them
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