Competition Breeds Excellence in Captivity

After freeing Zarina’s arms and legs from the bedpost restraints, I undid her ring gag and she worked feeling back into her jaw slowly with both hands. In short order, Zarina flipped onto to her side and got right to work on my cock with her hands and mouth. I lay down to enjoy myself but kept my head propped up on pillow to watch her first effort. She arched her back and wiggled her ass, knowing that I liked the good view.

Zarina was noticeably trying to keep her weight off her bandaged breasts. She was working my balls, shaft, and tip with rapid motions of her hands and tongue, but I could feel that I would still be in my refractory period for at least a couple of minutes. I closed my eyes to enjoy the sensations in the meantime, and soon my member was hardening. I will never believe that Zarina or any other sex slave is truly happy to see my erection, but she was unmistakably glad to see that her efforts were paying off and she was making progress towards avoiding at least one other burning.

All sex is good, and I am not usually one to tell a girl to change things up so long as it is working in bed. Sometimes a good blowjob hits the spot. It does not have to be only an appetizer for anal sex or something crazier all the time. Zarina kept her eyes on my face, scanning for hints of feedback, as I often demanded. She had gotten pretty good, in her short time as my captive, at reading my changing moods. I could only conclude once again that Zarina’s survival instinct forced her to observe me carefully. At some level, we both knew that she was in control of what she did over the next few hours.

I liked seeing what Zarina would come up with to entertain me, especially as she got more desperate. Pressure really does inspire creativity. I don’t want my slaves to think that they have to always perform sex acts the same way. Being the kind of dominant who always dictates what he wants would be like playing with a short deck. In addition, the idea that a ‘master’ feels the need to be in full control all the time strikes me as rather insecure. 

Right now, Zarina was simply giving me an enthusiastic blowjob. She was following the basics: sucking hard, paying special attention to the head and its underside with her tongue, jerking the rest of my shaft with one or both hands, alternating in a corkscrew motion, then shoving as much of my cock as she could down her throat, and fondling my balls. There was no need to resort to any other circus acts this time. She had learned well, and credit to her for discovering what I liked best, along with a few new ways to please me. It was working.

Soon I felt the all-too-familiar warmth of my climax building. Zarina picked up on this as well and started sucking her hardest on just my head while twisting my shaft up and down with both hands. She had discovered this was one of the fastest ways to bring me to orgasm, and it was proving as reliable as ever. Who can blame her for going for speed? She was in a race against time to save her most sensitive parts.

Zarina choked a little when I came, but she managed to swallow most of my cum as I shot into her mouth. She hurriedly licked up the dribbles that had escaped her lips and ran down my shaft, and then swirled her tongue over my balls, even though there was nothing really to clean up besides her saliva. She kept sucking with just a little intensity on my head and tip, periodically taking her mouth off it to quickly glance whether any more cum was still seeping out. 

“Can’t you taste or feel whether some cum is still coming out?” I asked out of curiosity.

“Sometimes, yeah, but often when you’ve flooded my mouth with cum, I can’t distinguish the taste. Your bodily fluids, mixed with mine all day I guess, do each have their own consistency, but, ya know, a poor girl hates get this wrong. My tastebuds are also kind of overwhelmed right now.”

“So you have yet to learn to distinguish what I taste like?”

Zarina froze for a second, realizing that she had tripped up. But then she quickly rolled her eyes at me and resumed her act.

“Oh no, Master. The taste of your savory cum is all I live for.”

Zarina’s tone was mocking her own impression of a slut. 

I do not expect my sex slaves to enjoy the taste of my cum in their heart of hearts. I am skeptical you can force someone  to enjoy anything that they do not like. I have no experience with parenting, but, from what I understand, after age 2 ‘developing a taste’ for something has more to do with human tastebuds decreasing in number and size as you grow older, and this decline is accelerated by alcohol and smoking. Girls in my past have tried to tell me that my cum tastes ‘good’ and the ones who know me better credit my relatively healthy diet. But I have no delusions about any girl craving the flavor and consistency. I merely find it erotic to watch girls swallow and pretend to enjoy the act, especially when the cum comes out of one of their lower holes or another girl’s.

I had gone soft by this point and Zarina gingerly flipped over onto her other side, avoiding any contact with her bandaged breasts. She slowed her pace, shifting to movements of caressing and light scratching. She was not missing a beat and was clearly determined to bring me to climax those 6 times in a row. But she also knew that I was feeling too sensitive at the moment and she could use this relative interlude to save strength for the long task ahead. Regardless of what her reasoning was, this was one of the interludes where my cock was not in her mouth and my mind was not overwhelmed with pleasure.