Hilda's two Masters part 3 of 25.


I was on my knees in front of him and looked up to him 
and asked, in an exaggerated humble tone, "Master, may 
I say something?"

"Yes!"

"I'm Hilda and I'm 21 years old next month."

"Oh, I see; hello, Hilda. I'm Michael, called Micke (Mikke). You 
may call me Master Micke or just Master."

"Yes, Master Micke!" 

I answered in a confirming tone. Now I knew his first 
name.

"And now I want to test your mouth. You know how to 
suck, don't you?"

"Yes Master!"

I answered the first announcement. The last question 
was too large to answer in that way.
Who was I to determine if I could suck? It must be the 
owner of the penis to judge that.  

I could always do my best and if he wasn't satisfied he 
had to teach me to do better. A great part of being a 
slave-girl is to adjust to her Master and how he wants 
her. The Master sets the standards and she adjust to 
them. It is so simple and uncomplicated.

I noticed that my hands were on their way up between 
his legs and started to open the fly in his suit-pants. 
Soon I had got it out, but it wasn't easy as it was stiff 
as a baton and didn't want to come out from the 
material. Yes, it had surely wanted out if it knew what 
was waiting for it, but it gave me hard resistance.

When I had got it out I bent my head forwards, 
opened my mouth a little and kissed it in a testing way. Put out 
my tongue and tasted it. It tasted not bad, almost nice. 
No, good, there was a taste that I liked and it smelled 
good as well.

My tongue teased Master's foreskin away
from the head and had its head free. It 
dribbled like a baby and had a long liquid thread 
hanging from it and down to his pants. My tongue 
caught it as a way of showing obedience and also that I 
liked the taste.


A girl just can't avoid comparing. 

On Mats that thing would taste acrid and harshly and a little of urine, but 
not this. Well at Mats's place it hadn't matter; I had to 
do it anyway. I also wanted to do it in a masochistic 
and obedient manner.

I pulled with my lips the foreskin back
all the way and stretched out 
my tongue to its underside where I felt its sensitive nerves and 
nice texture. I pressed my tongue upwards and against 
it and moved it forwards and back as super-quickly as I 
could and had been trained to do.

I had not yet taken it into my mouth or shut my lips 
around it, as I wanted to do all in my own pace, as long 
as I was allowed to do so. In this first touch I was 
scared stiff at the thought that he started to direct me in 
details.

I wanted him to direct me, yes, but not in this act 
when I use my mouth on him the first time. Not now when I presented my oral skills to him. I wanted to do it my own way and show him what I could do. If he 
wasn't pleased with me then he would correct me. That 
was the way of my thought.

I'm very enchanted by giving oral pleasure 
to a man and enjoyed it so much. I knew that it would 
never be performed more poorly if I loved to do it. It was only 
my wish of doing it all the time that could be too much 
for a Master and perhaps it was to Mats.

It is very important that I do my very best in this first 
show of my oral arts, my fantasy and flexibility.

My Master had always his right to steer my 
movements. For me it was better if he just was passive, relaxed and enjoy. My job was be inventive, docile and sensitive of 
any little body signal, that I could scan and be steered by.

I thought: "I will lean back at my old experience and 
how I had been taught. If my Master isn't pleased with 
me he has to train me again." 
I love that thought, it felt so submissive and slavish.

Now I wanted to do my very, very best.

The feeling of how much I missed a Master washed over 
me.  

The hope of having Micke as my Master increased 
inside of me. I felt that the hope started to grow and 
grow though I hadn't yet asked him. 

I looked up in his face and saw that he had his eyes 
closed and I heard him enjoying my pleasure-giving. To 
see his enraptured face, when his eyes didn't see me or 
anything else, was a pleasure of its own and it was a 
very good testimonial.

I enjoyed giving him pleasure.

This was my very first presentation of my skills and 
now his pleasure was of highest importance.

I played out months of recharged pleasure-giving in one 
card and hoped for that it was an ace for him.

I received praise and incitement of that I was on the 
right way by his facial expression and his stifled groans 
and I continued. 

I pressed my tongue upwards and tried with its tip to 
detect and follow the small puckers at its underside, millimeter by millimeter.  So I started to move my tongue again and also surrounded its head, but let the 
tongue worked at its maximal at the penis underside. Not too hard, 
only sliding, wet and softly.

I had learned from a doctor that the chord at the 
underside of the cock is the man's counterpart to our 
sensitive clitoris and I know how sensitive it is.
 
I could easily feel the pulse in his cock, how it beat as it 
wanted to grow bigger and harder, but couldn't grow out 
from its skin.  It was big enough for me.

Amazingly I felt power over it and it felt good. As long 
as I was free to do with it as I wanted with this soft 
and warmth manly body part the whole man was in my 
power. 

With a certain natural resistance I bent his cock 
upwards and started to work at the underside of the 
head where I also enclosed its underside with my lips 
and let my tongue move quickly and soft over its 
texture. I moved my tongue so fast that I had to rest for 
a moment and let my lips take up the movements. I was 
mostly my under lip that had to glide in a searching 
way over it. After hard working I had to move my head 
instead and pressed my under lip upwards. 

Then I repeated it with my tongue, my under lip and 
head movements

I lost the count of time in my own pleasure-giving and 
in that moment I felt that I could keep on going in 
eternity. I wanted to take my time and remember every 
little movement. First of all I wanted him to enjoy my 
mouth and then long for it forever.

As I had put my tongue to work at the third round my 
newfound Master started to groan and I understood 
that he was going to cum.

I felt obedient and pliable when I surrounded its head 
to collect his release but my tongue continues its 
stimulation at the underside. I had to force my tongue 
out between his cock and my lower lip for him to feel 
my whole tongue.
  

He screamed out and roared so loud that I was almost 
afraid.

"Bloody Hell, what a pleasure! I'm dying!"

It was the best reward I could get. It was so 
spontaneous that it couldn't hide any falseness. No 
feigning!

I function in that way, when I'm praised I strive much 
more to get more praise and it starts some kind of 
treadmill in my head and it increases and increases. I'm 
all crazy in my exertion.

I ignored my exhausted tongue muscle and made it 
work harder. It felt wonderful and I could follow the 
whole process with my tongue, as if the receptors in my 
tongue lived its own life in the pleasure I gave him.

I received squirt after squirt that hit the inner parts of 
my mouth. There was power in the squirts as they hit in 
shocks the roof of my mouth.

I swallowed instinctively and enjoy swallowing his love-
gift. My God, how much I love this man!

// 

Suddenly, in a mad impulse I remember a girl that I saw 
at Kivik's marketplace last summer. The girl had a 
white T-shirt with black text: "I swallow!"

Talk about living and an advertising gimmick.

It wasn't the first time I saw this kind of advertising. In 
Copenhagen I saw an extremely fat girl who on her 
yellow t-skirt wears the text: "I'm deep throating!"  
I remember me thinking that she, with that body, must 
have something extra to entice the men. But that 
thought was in a sisterly and venomous way.


//

I let his penis stay in my mouth, but I felt a little done out of it. 
Not for me, but for him. I had just started to show him 
my mouth-skills. His cock had hardly visited my oral 
cavity, more than just when he cum and not deep down 
my throat.

"Deep throat!" I'm very proud of that skill I have learned to control 
and would with honor and high head wear a t-skirt with 
that text. But that kind of advertising is not for a girl 
that wants ONE man, a Master.

That skill of mine I had not showed him yet, not even in 
the vicinity.  But again a Master decides for himself when 
he wants to cum. That is nothing a slave-girl could poke 
her nose into (if you follow my meaning). A slave-girl 
has to wait and adjust herself to her Master's will.

His body convulses a couple of times and I could feel 
his cock giving me more sperm but now so little that I 
just collected it in my mouth. In all he had given my so 
much that it must have been many days or more since 
his last release. It was suddenly important that he 
hadn't had another girl recently.

He sat quietly and just breathes. Sometimes he inhales in 
worryingly deep sighs.

If I hadn't with my whole body and in my mind felt 
the opposite I might have believed that he wasn't satisfied 
with me.

I thought, as a little bonus: "I had so much more 
pleasure to give him!"

His silence worried me a bit though I saw that he was 
exhausted by his experience. I needed feedback, a receipt. Men are 
not into giving it, but they want it themselves. I know!

They seem to think as long as it isn't wrong everything 
is all right. We mostly need those receipts to feel good 
and to adjust.

I was on my way to open my mouth and ask him if I 
may put a question, when he said:

"You! That was the most enjoyable I have experience 
in my whole Bloody life. I think I had never been so 
close to death, but it was worth it."

"Thank you Master!"

I really felt grateful and like his way to express it so 
that the woman inside of me could understand it. My 
female intuition told me that he didn't exaggerate.

He seems to be an unusual man and I also was grateful 
to my heart that convinces me to follow him. 

Little in panic I thought that I could have left him at 
the street and not experienced all this.

I'm surely crazy as I started to plan a life together with 
him, without of asking him first.

I wanted to be his slave-girl and let him live through 
that close-to-death-experience as often as he wanted 
and more. I could gladly wake him up with my mouth 
every morning as Mats had made me do, to him.

I wanted to give to him just that.  He could wake up 
every morning in my mouth and he could release his 
nightly lust there and start to refill for the new day. I 
saw the risk of him getting tired of my mouth and me. 
When I say every morning I mean every morning.

I had many more pleasures in store for him, many things 
that I had learned during the months with Mats, but 
also picked from Anna's stories. I can be very willing to 
learn when I want to. 

I have only had one guy for real before Mats and then it 
was a rather faint-hearted sex compared to Mats, who 
had lifted my sexuality to the sky in his firm and 
demanding way. It was pity that he didn't want to 
continue being my Master.

I realized that I hardly had thought about Mats in this 
apartment. That must be a healthy sign, if anything. 
Before this visit the thought of Mats had keep on repeating itself 
during my waking hours and disturbing my sleep.

I didn't want to forget Mats but I should surely be 
ashamed if he saw me now, on my knees in front of 
Micke.

Master Micke looked me in the eyes and said, 
"You, I want you to stay forever."

"Thank you Master. I want to stay forever. I can 
promise you that I'll stay as long as you want me to and 
when you don't want me anymore you say so and I will 
walk. I have a little pride left, even if you don't believe 
it."

I said with an ambiguous smile.

"Just let me rest a while so you can have your pleasure."

"Thank you Master, but that is not necessarily. I want 
you to enjoy me."

His thought of me as a person and that he wanted me to 
have pleasure filled my heart with pure love. I wasn't 
used to that. Mats had taught me that a slave-girl gives 
and a Master enjoys. It was a hard lesson that was 
spanked into my bottom.

He rose and went to the kitchen-part to fix coffee for 
us. I followed him though I was naked and meant that I 
could make coffee. I was the slave-girl and he was the 
Master.

A little surprisingly he said, "Yes, you make it."

I opened the cupboard over the coffee-machine and 
noticed that he had ZOEGAS coffee (a brand of coffee 
that is usual in the south part of Sweden).

Well then he had good taste and that increased his plus-
side in my book, I thought, and laughed inside of me.

I served the coffee and we enjoyed it.

He wanted to know about Mats.

I had gratefully forgotten Mats, but told him obediently 
that we had had a Master-slave relation and that Mats 
had trained me in those things that were important to 
him.

"My future Master has to retrain me in his ways,"
I said carefully without of pointing at him. But I felt 
that we both knew that it was that I was offering him.

"Who has taught you to suck that good?"
 
"Mats has taught me some and I have learned much of 
it from Anna's diary but I think that I have some of the feeling 
inside of me in my obedient giving and in at the 
moment." 

"Do you love Mats?"

I didn't want to talk about Mats now. I was so happy 
now when I found out that Mats didn't besiege my 
mind every seconds of the day.

"Yes, I do."

I must tell him the truth. To build a relation on anything 
else but the truth will kill that relation, it's only a 
question of time. 
My life-theory is that the truth could seem fragile and 
thin but it is strong when it comes to taking out its 
right, it always wait for the right moment.

"Do you long for him, as your Master?"

"Yes I do. Before I came here I couldn't think of 
anything else but him day and night. If I woke up in the 
night I couldn't fall to sleep again, thinking of him."

"You said, before. What about now?"

"I have not longed for him now here with you."

"Does it disturb you in your relation to Mats that we 
are having sex?"

The question was thrown out in the air. I had no 
answer. I hadn't thought of it that way. Mats had left 
me and I was alone. Perhaps he would come back, but I 
started to think it is too late now.

"If you think that I was thinking of Mats, when I made 
it nice for you, no, absolutely NO. He has left me and I'm here now."

//


Cecilita