Take off the gag

You rip the strip of fabric and pull it away from his face, letting it fall to the ground. Your heart begins to beat faster as you wait for him to say the words that will send your consciousness back into the abyss, but he only takes a few deep breaths and licks his lips, his skin red and raw at the corners of his mouth.

"Why did you do that?" he asks finally, a hoarse whisper.

"I want to trust you, too," you say, hoping this doesn't turn out to be the last mistake you ever make. Slowly, you rub the slick head of your cock against his virgin hole.

"Can you promise that it won't hurt?" he asks, the words spilling out of him, tripping over the fear in his voice.

You open your mouth, then close it again. It would be easy to lie to him, but you find that you don't want to. "No, I can't promise that," you say. "It shouldn't hurt, but it might. However, if it does hurt, and you want me to stop, I will. That I can promise you."

He draws a noisy, shuddering breath and finally nods. "Okay, go ahead."

You feel a heady rush as he surrenders to you, the tight ring of muscle softening. Gripping your cock in one hand, you slide the other beneath him, fondling his balls and stroking his semi-hard rod, distracting him as you ease inside. Once your knob slips past his opening, you both groan in appreciation. He's so hot and tight, surrounding your cock, gripping you, accepting you deep inside him as you slowly sink your meat in to the hilt.

"Oh, fuck," he whispers. "I had no idea it would feel like this." You have to agree with him. Nothing in the collected eons of experience contained in your memories can compare to the tight heat that surrounds your cock, the joining of your bodies, the trust and acceptance of your master, letting you inside of him so intimately. He trusts you, and you're beginning to think that that is better than sex, better than pleasure or power.