Master of the Galaxy Read Online Free PDF

granting me. I was elated, floating
even higher, desperate with gratitude for the opportunity as I slid
gracefully from the bed and fell to my knees before him. I felt him
remove my blindfold and I looked up at him, my eyes relucent,
glowing with adoration.
    He smiled at me indulgently. At times he
required strict obedience of me, never allowing me to raise my eyes
to him unless first given permission to do so. But after so long,
he knew what I was greedy for, what concessions he would make for
me. He would tell me that he spoiled me. And it was true, he
did.
    And so he traced my cheek with the back of
his hand and said, “Yes, pet, you may have your reward.”
    With tears in my eyes, I accepted his
beautiful, swollen pole into my mouth, engorged to a size around
which I could almost not wrap my lips, but which I admirably did,
his beautiful, pulsing, throbbing member alive in my mouth, purpled
with bright red veins of arousal, his foreskin fully retracted,
leaking precious pre-cum which I sampled greedily before falling to
my task to demonstrate my gratitude and affection for him. If I was
ever intoxicated by his attentions to me, it was nothing compared
to what I came to love, worship and cherish as his cock.
    This was what I could give back to him. I
could serve him, delight him, obey him, but I had nothing which I
could actively give him but this. I took immense delight in
worshiping the center of my universe, the source of my unending
pleasure, bringing him to the same level of combustion to which he
brought me, although he could also arrive there in other ways.
    I drew him in deeper as he had trained me to
accept him into my throat.
    The first time I had tried this, I felt I
had disappointed him miserably as I gagged and choked and
sputtered. I had said to him, “I have failed you,” my eyes
downcast, growing wet. But instead of wrenching at my hair and
forcing himself into me, he had chuckled softly, stroked my hair
and said, “You have not failed me, little one. Believe me, you will
know when you have failed me. You will have no doubt when that
occurs, but it is not now.” And he was right. I knew that he was
not merely saying such a thing. Whenever I did fail or disappoint
him, I was quick to feel the power of his wrath, the sting of his
lash, and was reduced to real tears. I understood then that I had
not failed him in my efforts, but I was determined to improve, to
please him more.
    And now, I could. I took all of him, bathing
his shaft with my tongue the way he taught me to please him,
applying gentle suction and swallowing his cock down my open and
welcoming throat as he grunted with delight. As much as I would
like to use my hands to feel his exquisite balls, to caress his
rod, to feel his strong, warm skin under my fingertips, he
generally did not ever permit me to use my hands, although of
course, on nights like that one, I had no choice when my arms were
bound tightly behind me.
    If you have not noticed, he is always in
control, self-possessed, composed, never flustered. And when I am
able to worship him in this manner, allowed to show my adoration,
my requital, he is still all of those things, but there is a part
of him that he gives over to me and when he is particularly
pleased, as he was that night, he groans my name passionately as he
explodes into my mouth, feeding me liquid ambrosia, as I drink
every taste of his essence, swallow each spurt of his release and
suck at him gently to coax the last drops from his luscious,
softening member.
    And as pleasure crackles like fire down his
spine while he spurts, strains, and surges between my lips, the
world pitching and revolving around him, I hope that I am sometimes
drawn in and encompassed within his wildly spinning orbit and that
he notices I am there with him.
    As the planet righted itself for him that
night, he picked me up and threw me on the bed again on my stomach
and I wondered how he could have recovered so fast, but he had no
plans for using me