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His Cock My Master Part 2

His Cock My Master

Part 2
By Cate

M/M, M/F, D&S, Cuckold.

It had seemed even more indecent, to hear the full intimate details
of Susan's conquest by Bratby. He exulted in repeating how
"hoity-toity" she had been when she first lectured him about his
unpaid rent. A "business meeting" arranged by Bratby at which,
he intimated, he would be making firm repayment proposals, had
ended up with Susan underneath him in bed. Bratby had left me in
no doubt about how many times he had "had her" that night, and
that he had been "giving her one" from time to time over the past
two months. Susan was now, like myself, terrified of a visit from
Mother. And there was more to come.
"Your sister," Bratby said. "Has she told you?"
I attempted to withdraw from Bratby's cock to answer him, but he
sternly ordered me to remain in position, desperately sucking on
his deflated member in the attempt to retain it in my mouth. No
comment was necessary from me and he would tell me what he wanted
to in his own good time.
"Well, she's preggers, old man," Bratby said. "Up the spout by
yours truly."
I almost had the courage to spit him out, to stand up and call him
a bastard. I was seeing the other side of submission now, not the
pleasurable part, the part that was enjoyable even through the pain
and discomfort. But this was different. This was grindingly
hard to take, without any cushion for the blow. I was sick with the
news.
"Funny thing is," Bratby said. "this will be your mother's first
grandchild. My other sprog, the one your wife is having, is not a
blood relation at all. So who gets to be heir?"
I choked. mother did not have a high opinion of me anyway, but if
she ever found out I wasn't the father of Patricia's child, that I
was incapable of fathering a child, it was likely to have extremely
undesirable financial consequences for me. I had a more than
slight suspicion that, if mother knew the true position, the bulk
of the family assets would be left in trust for Susan's child.
"She wants me to marry her," Bratby said.
"Please, no," I begged.
This time I did pull away. Bratby reached out and cuffed me hard
on the side of the head so that I fell back on the worn carpet and
before I could get up Bratby had bounded from the chair and straddled
my body, jockeying up so that he was sitting firmly astride my chest.
"Never do that again without permission," he hissed, his angry little
eyes glaring down
at me. He slapped me again.
"I'm sorry," I said.
"You were out of order," Bratby said sternly.
He took the base of his cock between thumb and forefinger and gently
stimulated it.
"I'm not saying I want to marry her," he said. "But I'm not saying I
won't."
"You know my mother is coming tomorrow," I said.
"So?" Bratby sneered.
"That's when the balloon goes up," I stammered.
I was falling into Bratby's retro army slang. Not that he'd ever
been in the army. Even if we'd still had National Service, Bratby
would have been too fly for them and would have faked some disability.
"Get on the blower, put her off for a day or two," Bratby said.
"Say you've fallen behind with the bumph or that the builder-johnny
has done a bunk."
"You don't know what she's like," I said miserably.
His penis was now semi-erect and he leaned forward supporting himself
on his hands so that his cock was brushing my lips. I opened to
accept it and Bratby thrust himself deep.
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," he said, grunting
with satisfaction as I began to suck him obediently.

The following day Patricia went into labour at eight o'clock in the
morning and I had to drive her to the hospital twenty miles away.
There were complications at the birth and I was half hoping she'd
lose the child, although in some ways I welcomed it, but it all
depended on mother not finding out who the father was. I rang
Susan and told her I'd have to book into a hotel for a couple of
days and Susan said mother hadn't yet arrived. After a long
labour a baby boy arrived on the scene and, thank God, it didn't
look too much like Bratby at this stage, although it did have
rather mean little eyes.

When I got back to the house two days later Susan was on the
top of the steps at the front door. I had knocked at the gate-lodge
on the way up the driveway, but there hadn't been any answer. I
knew Bratby would probably have been annoyed at my non-appearance
yesterday evening, which was one of our set days. Susan, although
only two months pregnant, looked wretched with morning sickness and
it was obvious she had been crying. She hugged me.
"I don't know what to say about the child." She said.
I was dumbfounded.
"What do you mean?"
"Patricia told me," she said. "It's not yours."
"So that's that, then." I said bitterly.
"Mother has wiped the floor with me," she said, "and you are in big,
big trouble."
Mother, although father had been knighted for political subscriptions
in the twilight of his life, bore her title as though she were the
widow of a peer of the realm, or a baroness in her own right. I
could just see her sailing in here, her ample well-corseted
fifty-three year old figure, her imperious snobby voice calling
for attention, very much the dominant woman in this household.
Nothing was too small or removed from being her business not to be
interfered in by her.
"So you're carrying the heir to the throne," I said bitterly to Susan.
"The Hardcastle millions."
"That's all you know," Susan said bitterly."Mother is looking for you.
She knows everything. She says she'll never trust either of us
again."
"Susan, I'm sorry," I said.
"What HAS been going on. I don't understand it," Susan looked sick
and bewildered. "By the way, mother said she'd see you in the study
at twelve - come down to the kitchen first and I'll make you
breakfast."
"The study is a mess," I said. "I can't let her see it."
"Don't go in there," Susan shrieked as I pushed open the door of
the large drawing-room which lay to the right of the massive hall
and looked out across the parkland through two bay windows. "I'm
sorry, I'm sorry," I heard her call out behind me, but I knew it
wasn't to me.
Mother was on her hands and knees on the settee, her stockings
shoes and panties lying on the carpet, her elegant corset and
her tent-like dress of mauve and pink draped across the sofa-table
in the middle of the room. Kneeling behind her, half-straddling
her thighs, his stubby hands supporting her massive breasts a
cheerful Bratby was tupping her enthusiastically as though it was
all in a day's work for him. mother was bucking back into him,
trying to impale herself even further on his massive cock, but she
turned and looked straight at me, her face distorted with desire or
anger.
"Get out, you fool," she snapped.

I sat at the kitchen table, trembling with shock. It did not
strike me for ages that there was anything that was Mother's fault
or that should embarrass her in any way but that I had made an
unpardonable intrusion in her privacy. That was the effect mother had on me. At least this would divert mother's attention from me,
to some extent and I knew that since Father's death she had had a
number of discreet affairs, but nothing prepares a man for walking
into a room and seeing his mother in the sweaty embrace of a lover,
particularly one taking her from the rear.
"I can't believe it," I said. "MOTHER! With someone like Bratby."
"She fell for the fucker the moment she saw him," Susan said bitterly.
"This is incredible," I said.
"That's not the worst," Susan said, turning from the Aga cooker with
the kettle in her hand, splashing water into the teapot to heat it,
then reaching up for the tea-caddy.
"She's...Mother, I mean...she's on fertility drugs."
"Oh my God," I said. "but why?"
"She wants an heir," Susan said. "What she calls "a proper heir"
She was going to get herself fertilised "in vitro" but now it seems
Bratby's been given the job."

As I knelt before Bratby and prepared to take his cock in my mouth I
felt the familiar flush of shame and the perverted delight I now
admitted to in anticipation of what I was to do. From his crotch
came the unmistakeable scent of Oriane des Laumes, my mother's scent,
the one she said was named after the Duchesse de Guermantes in
Proust's "A La Recherche Des Temps Perdus", the scent she said
only eight women in London had access to. It appalled me that she
had taken Bratby in her scented vagina and, seeing my expression of
shock he said, "She takes me in her mouth too. She isn't any
better than you, though."
Even soft, his cock was about 5 inches long. drawing it towards
me, I enveloped it. I was able to take it into my mouth up to the
root, now that he was flaccid. It tasted different and I knew I was
tasting not only Bratby, I was also tasting my mother's shame.
I extended my arms in front of me, under his legs and along his
sides, and rested my chin above his balls as I turned my attention
to making Bratby hard. The hairs on his scrotum brushed my neck,
and his pubes tickled my nose. All I smelled was sweaty, musky
crotch overlaid with the delicate perfume of my childhood memories,
my mother's scent. As humiliating as I still felt to be made to
obediently suck his cock, - not simply to take it in my mouth
and pay obeisance to it but to do so in minute detail the way he
ordered me to, it felt even more degrading to be made to get him
up from a state of complete.flaccidity. I knew he had not washed
since he last had intercourse with my mother and that this was
entirely deliberate. It was a totally different experience to have
his soft, fleshy penis in my mouth. Last week he had offered me
my freedom if I could bring him off in twenty minutes. He had not,
on that occasion, tried to deflate his penis to obstruct me. Yet
I had failed to bring him off in time.
"It was so sexy undressing her," Bratby said. "and to know she was
LADY Hardcastle. That corset - it must have cost a thousand quid.
Hand made satin basque thing. Made it so much nicer, so special when
I finally had her naked."
As I swirled my tongue around his cock it moved around lazily as
if it had a life of its own.
"She's a hell of a woman for her age," Bratby said.
The skin was elastic and smooth, very conducive to being lubricated
by saliva.
"Hell, there's something about an older woman, isn't there? But
even I didn't think I was going to put her in the pudding club.
Fertility drugs, eh?" Bratby chuckled appreciatively.
Aside from the shame of what I was doing, it was very sensually
stimulating to feel this sleeping beast in my mouth.
"I like a woman who wears stockings too," Bratby said.

Yesterday mother had announced at dinner that she was pregnant by
Bratby. She was radiant as both Susan and Patricia looked
furiously on . I was taking care of the baby now, the one
Bratby had sired on Patricia, getting up at night to look after
it when it cried. mother had told me that I would have to look
after Susan's baby also when it arrived. My sister was going to
resume independent work as a lawyer. Both Susan, now six months
pregnant, and Patricia were wearing necklaces selected by mother
and had probably been advised what dresses to wear with them.
Mother was very much the dominant female.
"Percy and I shall be getting married quietly in St Pauls in
October," mother had announced sweetly.
Percy? So that was his name. I had never been able to make out
from his illiterate scrawl on the letting agreement. Bratby grinned
sheepishly from the end of the table
"I didn't know it was possible to get married QUIETLY in St Paul's
CATHEDRAL" I said rather pointedly.
"Shows all you know, dear" mother said, smiling at Bratby. "We shall
be married at eight o'clock in the morning. By the Dean himself."

I leaned a bit to one side and grabbed Bratby's cock at the base.
Even soft, it felt to be as thick around as mine was when hard. I
began trying to suck on it as opposed to sloshing it in my mouth.
It was difficult to suck the soft dick, it's elasticity made it
hard to form an air- tight seal on it. But eventually it began
firming up. Having his dick grow erect in my mouth was an odd
feeling. It was slowly thickening and gently forcing me to bend
my head back from his crotch or else choke on it. Soon it reached
the plump turgidity that I remembered.. I ran my tongue, well
salivated, along the bottom of his shaft, from bottom to top,
pausing for special attention under the tip. I grabbed the tops
of his thighs as I began taking him in slow, deep, deliberate
strokes onto my mouth, licking him lavishly as I bobbed up and
down... I began sucking a bit more intensely, a little deeper. Not
too much more, though. I was trying to pace myself. I still didn't
get much response out of him.. I stroked him with my hand while I
sucked for all my worth. I continued the hand job as I disengaged
my mouth from him to suckle his balls and lick the crease of his
leg and groin. In my frenzy, I was turning myself on. I returned
to the head and was giving it loud, wet kisses. I realized I was
moaning with desire. This seemed to elicit a stronger response
from him. He was now moving his hips rhythmically with me, coming
up to meet my face as I devoured him. I heard him gasp. I began
sliding my mouth up and down his cock sideways, spit dripping
all along it's length. I moved down his shaft in this way until
I was sucking on the ridge on the underside of it, just above his
balls, as I jerked him off by hand. I was so intent on my work, I
found my hips moving in and out as well. I also noticed that I had
a hardon. . For the first time in years I had a full, hard,
throbbing erection. I instinctively reached for it. Bratby
noticed what I was doing.
"I don't allow that, old boy," he said.
He forced my mouth open with his hands withdrawing his cock
He forced my mouth open with his hands withdrawing his
cock peremptorily and leaving me floundering on my knees.
He took up a strap from the table and ordered me to put my
wrists behind me. He wrapped the strap firmly around my
wrists behind me, pushing me forward prone on my face, then
sitting firmly astride me while he whistled tunelessly, adjusting
the buckle to his satisfaction. When he had finished he got
up off me and returned to the chair, ordering me to take his
penis in my mouth again.
I tried to deep throat him, but could only get about half way. He
did, however, let out a deep sigh of pleasure. I started going
down on him in deep, tight- lipped strokes. He liked it. I
was getting better at it and he was unable to resist me. Last
week, before the twenty minutes was up, he was still hard, I
was urging him towards climax.
He was starting to gasp, to jerk quickly, then more slowly, then
those piston-like strokes. He was almost on the point of climax.
I stopped sucking, held his hugely engorged cock as gently as
I could while the minutes ticked by. Bratby looked at his watch.
He knew. I did not want my freedom. My submission to him
was complete.
"Iíll be here for at least the next six months," Bratby said. "Maybe
for ever. Finishing off that thesis on the Mountain Gorillas. Fair
bit of bumph still to be done. Probably interest you, old boy,
about the way the dominant males treat the ordinary Joe Soaps."
As usual I could not answer him. Who was I to argue?
"Probably just pop up to London at the weekends to keep your
mother happy and wind the clock."
When I gasped, he pulled out for a second. He was breathing
heavily
"Catch your breath, I'm gettin' ready to unload." He made me take
him again and resumed pumping. Once again his dick sought
satisfaction deep in my throat. The throbbing instrument of his
pleasure was pushed deeper, a probe searching for just the right
spot to plant its essence. He fucked deeper. My lips, my throat,
more educated now to his monstrous size, surrounded the base
of his rod and felt the fine, strong muscles of his belly. My lips
were painfully stretched. . His sweaty plums moved up and down
on my chin. I reached around and felt his hard ass. It contracted
every time he shoved into me. His engorged penis expanded in
my throat, I felt the head of it flare wildly, He was beginning to let
go. The base of his cock then expanded and his first big wad sped
downward. I had worked hard for his thick, jellied load and now he
was rewarding me lavishly. The massive dickhead had found it's
mark and, with a final massive shudder, it began to lather the spot
with its rich booty. I felt something hot and creamy coat my insides.
It imagined it shooting straight to my belly. I knewthat Bratby
had possessed me even more completely than he had possessed
first my wife, then my sister and finally, my mother. He held me
by the back of the head and I was totally helpless in his grasp, my
face buried in his sweaty crotch, my wrists bound behind me.
I knew I was now totally his and acknowledged my sovereign master
as I savoured the last copious pumping of his cum down my throat.

The End.

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