A little different from my usual stuff. This is a full-on dom/sub authoritarian story so if you can’t handle the mindfuck aspect, you’ve been warned. Potential ongoing series if interest arises. Check out my tumblr at https://www.tumblr.com/blog/jhtravus-gay-fiction for news, info about me, and just what I think is hot. 

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Submissive Top For Sir’s Pleasure

I gazed upon the absolute hunk currently breathing in and out quietly, fast asleep against me.

The guy was about as close to perfection as you could possibly get. From his massive 6’5 frame, his perfectly sculpted calves, his strong, powerful biceps, his bright blue eyes, and last but not least, the ten and a half inch monster swinging from his legs. Grant Wentworth. The senator’s son. I swear, these studs in their mid-20’s were like fucking black holes with daddy issues. I was never going to be able to fill whatever void this poor kid needed me to fill, only his old man can truly do that, but I’ll be damned if I wasn’t going to give him something to put all of his need for affection and affirmation from an older male into. I could let this stud fuck me until the end of time and he’d do it, no questions asked. But give him the smallest sign of affirmation and he goes crazy for it. Hell, the other day I leaned up to his ear while he was fucking me and muttered the two words that almost made him wet himself he was so fucking starved for my approval: Good boy.

      Those two words. So easy for me to say but so hard for him to earn. That’s all it takes and he’s over the moon. He needs it. They all do. And they’re so grateful for it. They’ll do anything for the slightest amount of paternal affection. Hey, I didn’t fuck them up to begin with, so don’t blame me for their issues. I’m just a horny guy who likes getting laid.

     I couldn’t help but laugh as I ran my hand over my newest sub’s strong, powerful muscles before grabbing a hold of the massive phallus lying against the mattress, sap still dripping into the sheets as he slept. My sub. I couldn’t think of a more perfect way to describe my current bedmate. This classically handsome power-top giant of a man was the sub to my CEO alpha executive dom power-bottom. Yep. You read that right. I’m a dominant bottom who specializes in molding the perfect submissive top.

     And so here I am, in bed with admittedly the hottest sub top I’d ever encountered. Fuck, this guy was beautiful.

     I’d like to say that it was because of my hard work and guidance that Grant Wentworth became the excellent sub top he is, but I’d be lying. The truth was, he pretty much oozed the very qualities I look for in gauging a good sub top.


     A little bit about me? I’m CEO of one of the most rising Fortune 500 companies and I am in my early 40’s. I am a perfectionist. It has always been the best and worst thing about me. I train in the gym every single weekday and I make sure my enviable full head of dark brown hair is always neat and trim. I am quite good looking, with strong, masculine features. I don’t beat around the bush. I don’t see the point in modesty.

      Some say I’m bossy. I would wholeheartedly agree with them. It’s my job to be bossy. And I’m good at it. It just comes naturally to me. I’ve read about these kinky CEO’s who like to be in control in the boardroom and give up control in the bedroom. Gives them a rush. Not me. I expect to maintain authority more in the bedroom than in any other aspect of life.

     I have an abnormally high sex drive. I get sex at least three times a day, more if I desire it. Any other fool would have allowed their lives to be ruled by their overactive sex drive, but not me. I did what I do best. I compartmentalized my need for sex and treat it often and treat it right. I don’t let it rule me.

     I am very selective with the subs I take under my wing. I won’t let just anyone serve me. There are five distinct qualities that a sub must have in order to be given the opportunity to serve me. All five must be present. First, a sub top must be submissive. Easy enough to understand. Second, a sub top must be malleable. Third, a sub top must have at least 9 inches. I prefer a little over 10, but I’m willing to accept 9 as long as it’s thick. Fourth, a sub top must be pretty to look at. Fifth, a sub top must be physically fit.

     I am picky because I can be. CEO pussy is a hot commodity in this town and I swear the guys moving up here to the city are getting better looking, better hung, and have bigger daddy issues by the day. There is an endless supply of good-looking, big-dicked tops who would kill just for the chance to get with me.

     Which brings me to Grant Wentworth.

     Unlike my usual practices, which involved me running down the sidewalk in front of the Theta Omega frat house in my skimpy wind-shorts until one of the poor suckers follows me home, I’d actually tamed Grant Wentworth in the wild.

     I bumped into him, literally, after grabbing my coffee from the bar at the local coffee shop. I’m embarrassed to admit all the porn cliché’s were true. But hey, I never claimed to be creative.

     “Aw shit, I’m so sorry dude.” Grant panicked, trying to pat me down before the coffee stains set in on my jacket.

     “Don’t worry about it, kid.” I told him, instantly endeared by his good-natured charm. His hint of a Southern accent was just icing on the cake.

     “Honestly, sir, if there’s anything I could do, please let me know.” He said, looking up at me and immediately looking away when our eyes met.


     I pretended to drop a sugar packet and before I could even move an inch he was already bent down, grabbing it for me, setting it back in my hand with a faint smile.

     “Hey, thanks.” I smiled.

     He instantly turned red and I knew I had him. At this point I was just seeing how far he’d go with this.

    “Don’t sweat it, son.” I said as I turned away, letting the last word sink in as I walked away.

    I subtly looked back and he was still standing there, trying to process what had happened. Shit, he was falling for it. Hook line and sinker.

    He caught me looking at him and he instantly stared back down at the floor, submissively. A grin slowly spread across my cheek.

    “You know, I hate to ask this. . .” I said, walking back to him. He looked up at me, an eagerness in his eyes. “But I have a few pieces of furniture back at my place that I need moved around. Anyway, I was wondering if you had any friends that might be interested in an easy afternoon’s work. No pressure.”

    Before I even finished, he was already antsy to accept. “I- I could help you, sir.”

     “Hmmm. . .” I feigned, as if the thought of him doing it himself was something that hadn’t even occurred to me, despite his huge muscles clearly on display. “You know you do look pretty strong.”

   He nodded eagerly.

    “You know, you’d really be helping me out.” I said, looking him over. “Polite. Good manners. Strong. Helpful. Your old man really raised you right.”

    He visibly shifted his stance, unable to contain himself. Oh, this is gonna be fun alright.

    He fucked me three times that night. And he was good. He was a lot further along than most of the studs I’ve trained over the years. He had this natural need to please that I hadn’t seen in someone his age. Completely subservient. Submissive. His one weakness was how desperate he was for affection. Wanted to kiss me while he fucked me. Wanted me to tell him he was doing it right. That’s okay. I would just use this to my advantage. I knew there was nothing he wouldn’t do just for some semblance of what he was looking for from his old man. The sad thing was that I wasn’t lying. He really was a great kid. Any guy would be lucky to have him as a son. But he still had a long way to go. If I wanted Grant Wentworth to be my true sub top then I was going to have to mold him into it.

     And something told me he’d do just about anything to let me do it, too.

     Fast-forward a few months later and here he is now, fast asleep inside the beautiful, lavish New York City loft I allow him to live in. He took a deep breath as he slept soundly and my hole pulsed just looking at him. God he was beautiful. I would never admit it to him but he was the most beautiful sub I had taken under my wing thus far. And trust me. I had turned quite a few cocky, domineering big-dicked tops into mancunt-worshipping subs.

            His bulging muscles were highlighted each time he took a breath. I decided he had slept long enough. I wanted more dick.

            I leaned over his mountainous frame and grabbed a hold of that monster cock.

            Instantly, and dutifully, he stirred, opening his eyes. I had this boy well-trained.

            He knew that when I wanted sex, I got it.

            I smirked at him as I got down on my back, spreading my legs and looking up at him expectantly.

            He grabbed my ankles as he got into position over me, his giant cockhead at my opening. 30 seconds ago he had been sound asleep but I had him well trained.

            He stared into my eyes as he waited.

            He really was a good boy.

            ‘Not yet.” I shook my head, testing him.

            Dutifully, he waited for my command, his impressive cock hard and ready.

            “You know the rules.” I muttered, smacking his cheek lightly, but authoritatively.

            “May I please have Sir’s pussy.” He responded, almost in a military tone.

            “What are you going to do with it, boy?” I asked him firmly, smacking his cheek again, just as lightly as last time. It wasn’t enough to hurt; just enough to remind him who was in charge.

            “I want to fuck it, Sir.”

            “You want Sir’s pussy?” I asked, smacking him again.

            He didn’t even flinch this time. I liked that.

            I liked that a lot.

            “Yes Sir.” He nodded, his rock hard cock waiting.

            “You’ve been a good boy.” I said, meeting his gaze. His cock jumped absentmindedly as I gave him the praise he craved so desperately. “Good boys get Sir’s pussy.”

            He made a move to enter me, but I blocked him with my knee, giving him what was sure to turn into a bruise in the center of his chest by tomorrow morning.

            “Sir is allowing you to have his pussy, but did Sir tell you to mount him yet?”

            “No Sir.” He shook his head, feeling like he did something wrong.  

            I waited for a moment, letting his hormones go into overdrive as he waited for permission to enter me.

            A slight grin spread across my face. “Mount.”

            Before I even finished the word, he was inside of me. God, he wanted me so fucking bad. It drove him crazy. Getting in my pussy was all this guy could think about. Hell, I’d made him that way. I was Dr. Frankenstein and this was my monster. My beautiful, immensely hung, dutiful monster.

            He fucked me at a powerful, constant pace that really hit all my spots but he was getting too eager. He fucks me for my pleasure, not his.

            I reached my hand out and smacked his cheek loudly, causing him to flinch.

            “No.” I said, with great command.

            Instantly he started to slow down, hanging his head down in shame.

            He hated receiving criticism. I could read it on his face. For a split second I felt bad for him. He really did want to please me. And he was. My rock hard cock rubbing against his perfect abs was proof of that. But still, he needed to learn.

            I brought my hand up to his handsome, masculine face and gently rubbed his cheek. His eyes practically rolled into the back of his head he was so grateful. The smallest sign of affection sent him into overdrive. He kissed my hand gently as he made love to me. See, that’s what this was to him. Making love. It was something I’d become aware of over the past few weeks and it wasn’t something I could control, which was new to me. I’d had some of my boys develop feelings for me. How could they not with the intense connection I expected from my boys. But this one was different. The way he looked at me. The way he craved my affirmation. He was in love with me. And it was for that reason that I was so tough on him. When Grant Wentworth receives praise from me it’s because he earned it.

            As I continued to let him revel in this tender moment I was giving him, rubbing his cheek softly, he couldn’t help himself but increase his pace, getting lost in the moment.

            I was disappointed, but not surprised. He had to learn.

            “Pull out.”

            His eyes opened, looking down at me wantonly.

            “I said pull out.”

            Obediently, he slowly withdrew that throbbing monster, the lips of my mancunt stretching as the large, bulbous head was withdrawn and then closing after it was completely out.

            Again, he waited for my command. I let him stay like that, like a dog that had just been scolded by his Master, his big cock jutting out from him, almost controlling his behavior, just like an animal.

            “Is that how you were taught to treat Sir’s pussy?” I asked him, sternly, my legs spread open in front of him, his rock hard cock right at my opening, knowing he wouldn’t dream of entering me again without not only permission, but explicit orders to do so.

            “No Sir.” He shook his head, apologetically.

            “Why did Sir make you pull out?”

            “Because I was fucking Sir too hard.”

            I swiftly rose up and struck him across the face. “NO.”

            He flinched, but did not react further.

            “Why did Sir make you pull out?”

            He had to learn.

            He hung his head down. “Because I wasn’t fucking Sir for Sir’s pleasure.”

            I could tell this was a breakthrough for him. He was finally getting it. I decided to reward him.

            I looked up at him and pat my shoulder. He could barely contain his excitement as he rested his head gently on my shoulder, nuzzling into me. I decided to let him revel in my affection. It didn’t come often, but I knew how much he needed it.

            I reached out and grabbed his huge cock, feeling its powerful size in my hands.

            “You want to be a good boy for Sir, don’t you?” I muttered in his ear.

            “Yes Sir.” He nodded.

            “You want to give Sir pleasure, don’t you?’

            “Yes Sir.” He nodded again.

            “Are you going to follow the rules then, boy?”

            “Yes Sir.”

            “Are you going to be a good boy for Sir?”

            “Yes Sir.”

            I slowly pushed him off of me and again spread my legs. “Mount.”

            I don’t pretend that my relationship with my sub tops is fair. I certainly don’t pretend it’s equal. Each and every one of them has the chance to leave if they wish. And some of them do. Some of them cannot break themselves down to the level I require in order for them to have the opportunity to serve me. It’s a long process, molding these big-dicked, cocksure handsome men into mancunt-worshipping subs.

            One of the toughest rules for my subs to learn is that they are not to cum when they are allowed to have Sir’s pussy. My orgasm should be pleasure enough for the both of us. My boys exist to give me pleasure. Not the other way around. For their entire lives up until this point their minds have been molded to think that, as the top, their orgasm is the reward of sex. They are wrong. My orgasm is the reward of sex. This is why it’s so hard to find the perfect sub top. And why I’ve had to create them myself. Their increasing need to cum drives their submission. It is essential. They need to crave Sir’s pussy. They need to be desperate for Sir’s pussy. They need to need Sir’s pussy.

            I’m not stupid. I understand that males have a basic, biological, physiological necessity to expel sperm. At a certain point it literally becomes involuntary. There is nothing more gratifying than using a big-dicked sub top in absolute agony to cum, and knowing they do not have my permission to do so. When for weeks and weeks they have been made to hold off from cumming as they pleasure me with their large, mighty phalluses, with each successive fuckings getting more and more difficult for them to keep from cumming. Eventually they all fail. They have to. At a certain point they can no longer give me pleasure with my tight, warm mancunt wrapped around their huge cocks and not blow their loads. I love seeing it on their faces. When they know they can no longer control themselves, try as they might. At once they pull out of me without permission and panic, thinking of anything but the huge load they are about to shoot. Sometimes they mange to succeed in staving it off for a few more days, sometimes they don’t.

            I once had a sub that pulled out of me without permission and I could swear I saw the tiniest drop of sperm roll down his massive shaft, but he willed himself to keep from having an orgasm, clenching his fists and toes and biting his lip. The poor kid ended up pleasuring me for five more days after that before he finally couldn’t hold it off any longer. I was impressed, but I did not show it. I was just as hard on him as I was expected to be. He needed to be humiliated by the fact that he was an animal. An animal whose basic, biological needs were controlled by his huge cock.

            And so here I am with Grant Wentworth. My beautiful, completely submissive masterpiece. We still had work to go. But this one was special. He still has flashes like this time where his mind equates sex with his pleasure. Eventually he will understand that my orgasm is pleasurable for the both of us, and that he has no need to cum. Eventually. But for now, I will continue to show him what it truly means to be a submissive top.

            I look up at him as he presses his mighty phallus against my opening, nodding to him as he enters me again. His eyes roll into the back of his head as he feels the soft embrace of my manpussy pulling him in.

            I cross my arms behind my head and sigh as he pleasures me. His thick 10 and half inches of concrete flesh has never been harder. If I had to guess, I would say it had been at least two and a half weeks since his last ‘accident’. The poor kid tried as hard as he could but right as he brought me over the edge into my own orgasm, he started shooting. I could feel his cock jerking up inside me with such force, desperate to finally unload the amount of cum he had been storing for so long. He looked at me with such shame as he pulled out, hanging his head down in disappointment, still shooting all on its own for about 20 seconds afterward. My eyes honed in on him for every second. He had fucked up and he knew it.

            I of course instructed him to leave and I didn’t contact him for three days. I would have made him wait even longer than that, having him pacing by the phone, willing to do almost anything to get me back again, but I wanted sex from him and thus allowed him to return.

            I don’t want to make it sound like I’m too ruthless. I am good to my boys. You see it in well-trained dogs; nothing makes them happier than obeying their master’s command. Sometimes Sir gives his boys a treat, just as he would for a well-behaved dog. Other times the satisfaction of pleasing me is cause enough for their figurative tails to wag.

            I give them treats not because they require extra reward from me, but I have found that the possibility of further positive reinforcement drives them deeper into submission. Makes them crave it. That the possibility is out there.

            I reward my boys in a number of different ways. Sometimes after a job well done I’ll sit with them and let them play with Sir’s pussy while I read my books. Or perhaps let them make out with Sir a little and let them nuzzle against his shoulder. Very rarely, I’ll let them play with Sir’s pussy while I let them kiss me. I find usually this is far too much stimulation for them and could risk them cumming, so I save it for my more experienced boys. But above all else, I give them the paternal affection they so desperately need. See? I really am good to my boys.

             I look up at Grand Wentworth, his face intense and focused on giving me the most pleasure possible with his sizable cock.

            “Good boy.” I nod to him as his big, round dickhead rubs smoothly against my prostate. “You’re fucking Sir’s pussy just right.”

            I can see in his face how giddy with excitement he is at receiving my praise, but he doesn’t let it get in the way of his task of pleasuring me.

            I can hear the familiar sound of his immense rod thrusting in and out of me, slick with his precum. He’s clearly produced a lot of it. I liked that about him. After the first week or two of him not cumming he’s practically a faucet. It makes his big cock feel so good sliding in and out of my pussy. Poor kid. He must really be feeling it right now. I’d guess just a few more days and it would be impossible for him to keep from cumming. He would try his hardest to hold off while still being able to pleasure me, but I knew eventually biology would win out. I would decide the repercussions later.

            His efforts against my prostate are having me on the verge of cumming now. My rock-hard cock is leaking a steady stream of fluid against my abs.

            “You’re going to make Sir cum.” I announce to him.

            “Oh please, Sir.” He moans, closing his eyes.

            “You want to make Sir cum?”

            “Please, Sir. Please cum for us.” He begs, taking my cock in his hand and rubbing up and down my shaft. He wasn’t instructed to do so yet, but I would let it slide. He had performed admirably.

            I threw my head back in pleasure as I he sank his huge cock into me, hitting my prostate hard and squeezing his strong hand over my cock, causing me to shoot jet after jet of hard-earned cum from my cock. He too leaned his head back and groaned in pleasure as my orgasm pleasured us both. His big cock slowed its pace as he reveled in my orgasm. When I finally stopped shooting, he looked down at me with a euphoric, glazed look in his eyes.

            “Thank you, Sir.” He groaned gratefully, hanging his head down, panting.

            I don’t know if it was the intense orgasm speaking or if I was feeling charitable tonight, but I pat my shoulder.

            At once, his head was nuzzling into Sir’s shoulder, emitting a deep sigh of sincere, unadulterated contentment.

            I looked at the clock next to the bed we shared. It was 2 AM. I had to be up in four hours for work, and he needed to be up to get to the gym to make sure he’s as perfect as possible to pleasure me, but a good fuck usually clears my head enough to put me in a deep, restful sleep in no time. As for him, I knew his still rock-hard cock was going to remain hard and aching for at least another hour before accepting it would not be getting the released it so desperately needed.

            That’s alright. That just meant he’d be even more grateful for Sir’s pussy when I wake him up in the morning for a nice, slow fuck before work. Which will make him ravenous for Sir’s pussy once I returned home after a long day. Which would make him absolutely desperate for Sir’s pussy again before bed.

            Yeah. Grant Wentworth was a fine boy indeed. He would forever standout among the best of them. One of the many cocksure, big-dicked alphas I had molded into mancunt-worshipping servants. Yet another success in the hunt for the perfect submissive top for Sir’s pleasure.



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