I don’t need to write again what has been patently obvious for a number of years — that I have an uncommon desire for sucking men’s cocks. I don’t know how I got this way. Nature or nurture, again.
For me this is different from my submissive nature, which I wear somewhat proudly. My sexual predilection for cock may also be inborn (who knows?), but it embarrasses me, a sexual “affliction” I would rather keep private.
I readily accept meeting someone in a grocery store who thinks of me as being someone’s slave. But meeting someone in a grocery store who wonders what man’s dick my lips recently wrapped around makes me blushingly cringe.
It’s within this context that Mistress Amanda, in her cruel and clever dominance, contrived this idea of my going door-to-door in the neighborhood very publicly begging for cock. It is her pleasure to dominate me into a very humiliating act of demonstrating to others my cock-addiction.
As she designed it, this “game-event” would be a merging of my submissive status which I am proud of with my craving for cock which humiliates me — even as my mouth waters for it.
This took place on Saturday evening.
The details of the event itself I will get to. But first I should explain Amanda’s rules for the “game” and how she may or may not have prepped the neighbors.
The proposed scenario was this: Mistress Amanda would walk me to a neighbor’s house but stand back a few yards as I knocked on the door. If the man of the house answered, I would request to speak to his wife or partner. If the woman of the house answered, I would speak to her directly. This was very intentional on Amanda’s part — she wanted neighbors to be assured that anything sexual with me that happens with the man must be by consent of the woman.
One of the rules for me was that I had to ask the woman at the door if I could “suck the cock of her husband.” I had to use those words, not come up with some euphemism or vague suggestive hint in my request.
If I was refused in my request or if there was some hesitancy on the part of the woman, I was required to find words to overcome the objection (perhaps negotiate something), and ask (beg) again. In all, if I was rebuffed again, I was required to beg for the man’s cock a third time. This was, as Mistress called it, “the rule of the three begs.”
If the outcome was a final rejection, I would thank the woman of the house and leave, only to move on to another house. This would continue, Mistress insisted, until I finally was “granted my cock-need.”
What I never knew was to what degree Mistress prepped the neighbors for what was to happen. It seemed only logical to me that she at least had to have given neighbors some advance notice, perhaps also checking to see who would be home. I imagined she might need to “script” them to some degree, so their responses to me would be pre-determined.
As you’ll see, I went back and forth on this in my mind the whole evening, thinking at times this was scripted ahead then at others times sure it was not. Even after the event, Mistress wouldn’t tell me how much was staged. I still don’t know. She pulled it off very cleverly.
As I entered into the evening, I chose to think of it as an adult scavenger hunt, a game in which neighbors know to expect someone to come to the door asking for something. How much of an actual “game” it was to neighbors, I didn’t know, but I could imagine they’d find the comparison appropriate: I literally was scavenging the neighborhood for a man’s cock.
Mistress had me dressed in my wine-red strapless cocktail dress and matching high heels. It was an glamorous outfit, such as I’d wear attending a formal gala at a hotel ballroom. I knew she wanted my evening elegance to contrast with my cock-sucking disgrace.
We went out around 8:00, well after dinner time, and Mistress had us walk to the opposite side of our neighborhood, to the east end.
Surprisingly, she had us go to the door of Jarret and Angelica Martin. Angelica, you recall, was the one at the NYE party who won the activity of spanking me, turning it into a sour diatribe about my being a slut and seducing her husband.
As we turned into their front walkway, I turned to Mistress and said, “Really?” She nodded, and I obediently knocked on the door.
As it happened, Jarret answered. He looked at me surprised, though taking a long gaze at my dress, bared shoulders, and the flesh of my breasts spilling out the top of my bodice. He then cast his eyes behind me to Amanda.
I was nervous, mentally sifting through my possible scripts. “Mr. Martin,” I managed to say, my voice raspy and trembling, “I’m wondering if Ms. Martin is home. I need to ask her a question.”
Just as I got the words out, Angelica called out from another room, “Who is it, Jarret?”
“They’re asking for you.”
Angelica came to the door, and Jarret stepped back behind her. She took a moment to look at me and looked also at Amanda farther back. It was as if she hadn’t expected us at all. “What is it?” she asked in a flat tone.
“I need to ask you…” I said, and that’s as far as I got for a long moment.
Angelica waited impatiently, then prompted, “Yes?”
“I need to ask you,” I went on haltingly, “Ms. Martin, for your permission…” — I paused again — “to suck your husband’s cock.” I eventually got the words out, though it felt like such an inappropriate request to be made on a front doorstep. I felt my face grow red, the color of my dress.
Angelica laughed, a derisive laugh. I cringed, my mental scripts having no option for ridiculing laughter.
“You have a lot of gall to ask me that,” she said.
If I had any notion that Amanda had previously worked this out with them, partnered ahead with Angelica, this wasn’t fitting that assumption. Angelica’s reaction felt very unscripted. Now, sure, perhaps Angelica remembered that this was the door prize at the NYE party and maybe in some of the ensuing conversation Amanda had with her a couple months ago, this scenario had come up. But clearly this was the sort of thing Angelica had railed against at the party: the neighborhood slut stopping by for sex with her husband.
So now this didn’t feel like a scavenger hunt game. I was mortified. I knew I had to ask again, and somehow a third time. I realized the “rule of the three begs” was not only to more deeply humiliate me at every iteration, but to make me stay in it, to earn my reward for a cock.
“I know this is inappropriate, maybe seems offensive to you,” I said, “and I don’t mean it that way.” Even in my nervous state, I somehow thought of a strategy — to appeal to her desire to humiliate me. She had spanked me at the NYE party, and despite her attitude, or because of it, she’d clearly enjoyed hurting me. “I think it could be pleasurable to you, Mrs. Martin, to watch my… disgrace. I would be on my knees… and you could watch me… I don’t mean anything to him…” It was something like that. I was just pushing out phrases in a random word-salad. “You could laugh at me, call me names,” I said, “…if just you’d allow me to suck his cock.”
She looked at me with a wicked grin. “You are such a piece of work,” she said. “I was right. Everyone knows the slut you are.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I saw Jarret in the background, and maybe I expected to see disappointment on his face, but he was laughing. I said nothing more, and it was just enough pause to compel Angelica to force an end to this encounter. She started closing the door.
I remembered I was supposed to beg a third time. This became a point when my submissive need to satisfy Amanda standing in back of me wrestled with my desire to escape further humiliation from Angelica standing in front of me. At the last minute, I blurted out, “Please, Mrs. Martin, maybe I could do something in exchange. I’m good at dusting and cleaning floors. Please, I really need to suck your husband’s cock.”
She slammed the door shut.
I stood there paralyzed in her rejection of me, not sure how to take what had just happened. None of it seemed staged or scripted, and now I thought this wasn’t a game at all. Mistress had marched me to the door of my harshest critic, and I had been royally shamed in front of her.
Mistress Amanda and I walked away.
I said, “That went well.”
Mistress Amanda seemed unaffected by it. She was smiling, and I didn’t know if it was because her “script” had gone so well, or because it wasn’t scripted at all and still had gone so well. She seemed pleased I had experienced the humiliation of such a rejection.
We then walked up to the house of Robert Diaz and Stacy Knox. Stacy opened the door, immediately brightening at the sight of me. It’s no secret she and I had our special moments that night I was shared with them (here and here), and we have continued a gentle infatuation since.
“I have an unusual request,” I said. “I wish to ask your permission to… with Robert… I mean…” I knew I had to say the words: “I wish to suck Robert’s cock tonight.”
Stacy grinned at hearing this, and I’m not sure if she had expected my request or was bemused by my asking it. Theirs being an open relationship, I knew she would not be offended, and she wasn’t. “Well, lover-girl,” she replied, “first off, you look beautiful. Such a dress!” She stepped out on the porch, took my hands, and extended them. “Look at you!” She then hugged me, giving me a warm kiss on the lips.
Presently, Stacy answered my question as if it was a normal one: “Robert would certainly love that, and you know me, Shae, I have no objection. But I’m afraid Robert isn’t home tonight.”
“Oh.”
“He’s with some of his buddies. One Saturday a month. But I’m sure,” she said with a chuckle, “he’ll be glad to know you stopped in and asked.”
At this point, I didn’t know how to fulfill my “three begs.” Stacy wasn’t following any Amanda-supplied script. In fact, she went on to talk with both Amanda and me about scheduling another sharing night. Conversation went down that track, randomly, for awhile.
I collected my thoughts and tried to bring their chatter back to my purpose for the evening. I suppose I felt the burden to fulfill Mistress Amanda’s “three begs rule,” even if doing so was awkward. “Seems so strange to ask for this kind of thing,” I said, “but, regarding my request, maybe I could take a rain check?”
“Well, I can’t speak for him, but I certainly don’t think he would refuse… And he’ll be tickled that you came to the door to ask. He’ll so regret he wasn’t home for this. But I’m sure next month on his guys-night he’ll enjoy telling his friends about you being here.”
“Oh.” God, I didn’t want that. “Really, Stace, he doesn’t have to share this all around.”
Stacy shook her blonde hair back, and her mouth twisted in to a little grin. “They already know about you. This will be just another story for him to tell them.”
I didn’t need to know that.
“Shae, I’d invite you in, but I’m working a project, on a deadline. It’s due Monday, and I have to work late. Otherwise we could have some fun, you and me. But we both know you’re not here for that tonight.”
I realized I had begged, sort of, twice, but I wasn’t sure what to say for my third. Our talk hadn’t gone that way. Maybe Mistress didn’t require a third beg if the conversation didn’t make an opening for it. But I wanted to do the right thing…
“I just want to be sure Robert knows I was here, for him,” I managed to say. “That I really wanted to suck his cock tonight.”
It was awkward, I knew, odd to say in any context. But it fulfilled my third beg. Stacy seemed to read between the lines, sensing (or knowing) I was fulfilling Amanda’s instruction.
“I’ll be sure he knows, lover-girl.” Stacy kissed me again, and we said goodbye.
By now I was sure Mistress was going to march me through the neighborhood and have me beg for cock at every doorstep. It was the only thing that made sense. I felt she wouldn’t include Angelica and Jarret unless her intent was a complete round of all the neighbors. I imagined now that I’d beg all those times and finally get to the last house, where I’d be granted a cock to service. It seemed apropos of the New Year’s Eve party, where this whole idea was unveiled. Everyone was there that night, so everyone would be included in my “cock-walk.”
Meanwhile, I wasn’t sure that I now really wanted to suck a cock that night anyway. Going through all this wasn’t worth it. Even as a fix for my addiction.
I rang the doorbell of Darnell Tribodeaux and Jacie Joyce, the couple who’d gotten the white elephant gift of my dusting rooms in their house.
Darnell answered and, as per my script, I requested to speak with Jacie. She came to the door, and I asked, “Ms. Joyce, I’m here to ask a special request.” By now, since I had practice and since I expected a refusal, the words seemed to spill out more perfunctorily: “I’d like your permission to suck Mr. Tribodeaux’ cock.”
Her eyes opened wide, as if my request took her by surprise and was as blatantly inappropriate as it actually was. Jacie took a moment to absorb it, then called Darnell back to the door and said, “I’m fine with it, but you should ask him.”
“Mr. Tribodeaux,” I repeated, “I’m here to ask you if I might suck your cock tonight.” While my words were outré, what I felt was by now more ordinary. I would need to go through this another half-dozen times. Tell me no, and let’s get it over with.
He stepped into the doorway, looking at me, then at Amanda. He glanced over at Jacie, and she nodded. “I’m fine with it, hon,” she said.
Darnell said with a wide grin, “I’d like that very much. Come on in.”
slave shae 