McFassy Fortnight: Master David

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Master David Aesthetic

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“When done correctly, there should only be pleasure.”

The words murmured in his right ear, struggled to make themselves understood against the sudden surge of pressure rising up within his gut.

No stranger to the ways in which men used men for their own physical purposes, he knew he was indeed far more than the chattel he once had been, yet in this new learning he again felt as helpless as he had been back then, trapped in all his weak smallness beneath the heaving flesh of a rutting Lord who cared nothing but for his own sexual satisfaction.

Sweat prickled down his back.  “It is unusual,” he agreed, disturbed at how easy it had been to accept Harold’s instruction without thought to his own desires.

Sexual coupling had thus far in his few enough years, been in no way an experience worth describing as pleasurable, yet there he was naked, lying on his stomach across soft, warm furs before the fireplace in his very own room, discovering an entirely new degree of intimacy he could never have imagined.

Upon the nearby couch sat Rhys, watching the lesson he had confessed himself to have once learned at the hands of his Mate, whose own instruction in such matters had been far more brutal than there were words to adequately describe.

Knowing he was not alone in having experienced great sufferings in his youth, had endeared him to Harold most deeply, and impressed upon him the growing belief that men could in fact share themselves without recourse to shame, or fear, or torture.

For his part, Harold had embraced him almost as a favoured nephew, and so they had come to a mutual understanding no one else could really grasp who had not endured the abject humiliation of once being owned as a plaything to be abused at whim.

David gasped, finding his fingers clenching into the furs even as the gentle fingers inside him pressed once more into his aching flesh, and then repeated the same gesture not unlike a rampant man spearing his insides.

Heat far richer and more intense than that which the flames in the hearth could themselves provide, began to burn somewhere within him, not from the penetration of his entrails, but rather from a more internal source within his body, one only he could sense.  It stole his breath, and as Harold placed his other hand firmly, palm down upon the curve of his back, so David found himself whimpering, urging from his thought every hideous recollection of times past when other men were not so kind, or so considerate toward him as to ensure he was pleasured by their ministrations.

In fact, it was a constant source of wonder once he knew that pleasure was permitted him, and that he was capable of receiving it.

When told of it, he did not believe until finally it was shown.

There.

In his own room.

Before the fire.

Safe.

Needed.

Wanted.

That he was being watched, mattered not at all.

They were naked, the three of them.

Equals.

Nothing hidden.

Nothing unexplained.

Nothing granted without consent.

All questions answered.

Without the slightest shame.

He squirmed as new sensations assailed him, the likes of which he had never felt.

There was no containing it.

No words could do it justice.

He was aroused, and increasingly in need of the relief that only a hand could otherwise have wrought upon his inflamed manhood.

But it was untouched, and so he wriggled against the furs, seeking release, unsure how to make it so.

The whine in his throat became a plea, though he knew not why, nor what he wanted to say.

Sparks akin to those on a badly balanced fire, illuminated his vision.

And while he wanted it to end, he wanted also for it to never end.  

It was a strange insanity, and it took him a moment to realize that Harold was urging him quietly to let go of all the fears he still retained.

It was trust.

No more than that.

Trust in himself.

Trust in the man teaching him.

“I don’t know how!” he wailed, his face hidden in the furs.

“Stop fighting,” Rhys said firmly, remembering his own first explorations at the knowing hands of his Mate.  “Accept that it is real.”

David let his fingers unclench.

Then his shoulders ease.

With deliberate effort, he forced his aching buttocks to relax and accept the invasion pushing up inside him over and over again.

When the moment of triumph came, it hit him so completely it was terrifying, and a cry burst out of him that spoke of his first real climax at the behest of another.  

The warm flow of his own seed spilled copiously onto the furs, and it amazed him that he could be brought to such a response without his cock being stroked or even held.

The fingers gently withdrew from his body, and it caused him to shiver, yet Harold remained beside him, rubbing his back, easing him past the moment tenderly.

There was no embarrassment.

No shame.

Nothing had been demanded of him.

Nothing was required.

Catching his breath took him a while, but there was no rush.

He could lay there for as long as he wished.  

He was permitted to enjoy.

There was much he still wished to learn about himself, now that he was free, and that night’s lesson was just the beginning.

He knew he was somehow liberated all the more by being allowed to discover a better, nobler dignity in himself.

“Teach me more?” he asked at last, blinking up at the sweet man he was so indebted to.

And Harold smiled wisely in return.  “One thing at a time, I think.”  He nodded.  “Slow and steady with all this.”

David chuckled.  “Thank you.”

“You are most welcome.  Perhaps in times to come, you can then teach others too.  You could help them also understand.  You could show them that there is no shame or fear in being a whole, knowing, sexual person.”

It was an appealing concept.  “I like that idea,” he agreed.  “I like that I could help others be unafraid.”