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