Ann's Oral Ritual Presentation

There was a knock on the thick, ornate wooden door. It was the expected knock, the traditional knock, three knocks spaced 3 seconds apart, in keeping with the ritual. It was the knock of a slave begging admittance by their Master.
John, sitting in his overstuffed, leather bedroom chair, was pleased. He loved ritual. Ritual provides order. And he knew that Ann enjoyed and respected ritual as well. It was so formal, predictable, inevitable. As long as it was obeyed, it served tradition, heightened the pleasure, anticipation and was a sign of discipline.
And submission.
When the final knock came, he waited the expected 5 seconds, counting them off in his head, then said “Enter’.
Ann slowly opened the door, entered and closed it behind her, throwing the large bolt into place. That was essential to tradition. It demonstrated the girl’s willing acceptance of what was about to happen.
She was dressed just as she had been before, that first time she had performed this ritual. Covered completely by a long white cloak and hood with a golden rope belt. She walked across his bedroom using THAT walk, the one she had practiced and mastered. Each leg extended out from front folds of the robe, toe daintily pointed, shapely and presenting itself slowly, with grace and beauty, heightening his desire.
She came up to before him and stopped. “Master,” she said, her voice calm, but with a clear undercurrent of acquiescence, “I beg thee, may I present orally, the Oral Ritual?”
He waited for a moment, showing respect for her and for the tradition. The request was not to be taken likely. He stared at her, her head bowed, her body completely covered and took in the entire panorama. He waited the expected time, also following the tradition.
After a time, she spoke again, in a formal voice full of ceremony and formality. “Please, my Lord, my Master. I beseech you. I beg to Present orally. The ritual. It has been too long. I beg you.” There was a plaintive tone in her voice, but a he spied, from under the hood, a mischievous glint in her eye. She knew him well.

“Of course, my little A. It has, indeed, been too long.” Because she was operating in Master/Slave relationship, he addressed her by her slave initial, ‘A’. He leaned back, assuming a more replaced pose. “And I sooooo need this”, he said with a groan.
The girl moved forward. She untied the clasp at the robe’s neck, then the golden rope around her waist. The cloak fell from her shoulders, exposing her. Her breasts were covered with thin white cloth that wrapped around her neck and hung down at the front. Her lower portion was covered with a loin cloth, ties on each side. The loincloth was longer at the back, shorter at the front, as was tradition. He also noticed her nipples were erect, making little dimples on the neck wrap.
Her slave collar was in place, its cold and silver metal cord and green initial plate reflecting the low light of the candles.
“I thank you, my Master, with all my heart.”
He spread his legs apart and she knelt between them. She gently laid the folded rope over the armrest and untied his robe sash, but left his robe closed. Then, assuming the Nadu position, she asked, “Master, I beg to continue?” she asked in a soft voice, hushed with expectation.

He nodded. “All is proper. Continue,” he responded.
She opened the folds of his robe, one side and then the other, doing so with great flourish and delicate, practiced technique. She knew that he would expect her to follow the tradition perfectly, and heavily punish her if she didn’t. She was careful to do it perfectly. She wanted to do it correctly, she wanted to honor him with perfection. That was an essential part of the gift. There were times when she had purposely messed it up. She had read his mood and knew that he would take pleasure in punishing her, but she knew that now he was not in the mood for that.
John was relaxing, settling in for what he knew would be a wonderful experience. He knew her talents when she left, after all, he had trained her. She were excellent. He trusted that she had finely honed her skills during her time away, building upon what he had taught her.
He watched her movements. They were perfect, exquisite. He closed his eyes, remembering a Japanese tea ceremony present another girl had once performed for him, perfect in every movement, precise. This was like that.
His penis was fully exposed, laying there flaccid on the bed of his scrotum and his balls. She stared at it, expressing respect. This was proper cock worship
Bowing her head, she then continued with the ritual. “I present my tongue to you, for your pleasure.” He nodded his assent.
She gently lowered her face and licked the head. Slowly, with great deliberation, she licked him, up and down, sideways, and in a circular motion. She licked from base to head and back again. Her hands stayed on her thighs as she licked with the flat of her tongue and teased with only is tip. She moved downwards, licking his balls, pudendum and cleaning his anus. As always, he was polite and had cleaned himself thoroughly. She admired his sense of fairness for her. Then she noticed, with gleeful surprise, that he had put a dab of cherry flavor gel, her favorite flavor, on his anus as a gift. ‘Thank you, my Master,’ she thought to herself. He noticed that she noticed and smiled. ‘Always playful in the perverse,’ she thought. ‘That’s why I love him so’. She enjoyed the flavor and smell, mixed with his natural muskiness, but also knew that such gels were also supposed to help the process by increasing her saliva and mucous production. She would need this later.
John enjoyed the feeling, the teasing touch and the wetness as well as the warmth of her breath on his skin. This went on for a long while, both of them relishing in the process. John started to get firmer. He opened his eyes and met hers. She was staring at him, reading him. ‘Good girl’, he thought to himself, ‘Observe, know your prey’.
When he was completely wet, she knelt up, looking at him and saying, “I present my lips to you, for your pleasure.” Again, he nodded his permission. Her lips went to the head of him kissed it, as the ritual demanded. She sucked the head but did not taking I into her mouth. She slowly moved her attentions down along the underside, again not using her hands, but caressing his shaft only with her sucking lips Up and down the length of him, to his sack, sucking his balls but, again, not taking them into her mouth. She did a thorough job, stimulating every square inch. He grew harder.
John closed his eyes and his mind filled with images of the various times he had been with Ann, her moaning and screams of pleasure, her screams and cries of pain, her begging and writhing squirms, the softness of her body as he held it to his. She was very good at what she did, technique wise, but also in her mind. He knew. He had trained her. She had the one natural talent of import, she wanted to please. And there was no one else she wanted to please more.
After the customary time, she knelt up again and said, “I present my mouth to you, for your pleasure.” Again, he agreed. She used her hands for the first time and took him into her mouth. Once inside, she used her lips and tongue to massage the head and excite sensitive area, sending sensations of pleasure throughout his whole body. She licked, sucked, rubbed, slurping as her saliva flowed freely, running down his cock and balls. Her hands worked in unison with her mouth, moving him in an out, massaging his balls, stroking his inner thighs. She made sure to keep eye contact as much as she could. She used her eyes to convey her thoughts and feelings, her eyebrows rising, calling, promising, flirting, her eyelids blinking. She was an expert at this, mixing expressions of awe, fear, playfulness, innocence and a compete palette of expression. She let out moans of pleasure and gratification and fear and pain, matching her expressions, as if each was her favorite thing to do. She studied his own facial expression, as well as the twitching of his cock and the movement of his body, searching for the presentation that most matched his mood and desire. She needed to know what he needed so she could give it to him.
As she searched him, John responded. His penis twitched involuntarily His hips bucked, seeking to go deeper into her, but she knew how to avoid that. It was not yet time.
As he grew bigger and longer, Ann shifted to a more aggressive methodology, sensing his growing urgency and aggressive moves. She gripped his testicles, wrapping her thumbs and forefingers around them and squeezing, very tightly. As she did this, John’s thrusts became more urgent. He was trying to force himself deeper into her mouth, but she restrained him, holding him down against the discomfort he felt with her holding him down. She knew how to instill just the right amount of aggressive instinct. It was necessary for his full satisfaction as well as for survival, for the final step of the ceremony.
She moved him towards the necessary level frustration, and tumescence, proscribed by tradition. He was now huge, but not yet fully engorged. This was essential for what was to follow.
When Ann correctly judged the proper moment, the predatory, greedy look in his eyes, the restless moving of his legs, the hardness of his manhood, she knew he was now ready.
She took him out of her mouth, cupping and rubbing him gently, keeping his warm and hard. Then, she made her final request. With one hand, she retrieved the rope from over the armrest and, offering it with both hands, bowing her head, as if offering a sacred relic, she tendered herself to him.
“Please, my Master,” and here she departed slightly from the proscribed litany, looking up and catching his eye. ” My beloved Master, please, I present my throat for your pleasure.” The look on her face was one of fear, little girl type fear and awe. John could sense that it was not an act, a persona she was putting on. She was honestly and sincerely begging him.
“Tie me, tightly, bind me, make me helpless before you so that in my weakness I do not distract from your pleasure, but that I may add to it as you enjoy my struggles.” As he took the rope from her, she bent at the waist, all the way the floor and put her arms behind her back, her hands grabbing her elbows.
Tom knew what to do. He tied her wrists to opposite arms, securing the rope just above the elbows. He then took the rope ends and tied them around her ankles. She could no longer resist him, she was truly helpless, just as both of them dreamed of. Her arms and hands were immobilized and she was held to her knees, her ankles properly crossed as a guard against her being able to force herself up. She knew that was no escaping what would come next. And she was truly scared. She also wanted it that way.
When he had finished binding her, she again knelt up. She struggled and twisted in mock protest, but she was performing exactly as she should. What was supposed to be understood as her struggling against him was actually an essential part of the ritual. As she struggled, the cloth covering her breasts moved. First, side to side, allowing teasing glimpse of her but finally falling off completely. This served to further tease and excite him, but also served another purpose.
When she was completely exposed, she thrust out her chest. Her nipples were fully erect and very sensitive. John sat up and took her breasts in his hands. She held completely still, as if paralyzed. She knew that he was unsurpassed in what he was about to do.
John lightly squeezed her breast, caressing them, teasing them. He massaged them, but carefully avoided her nipples. Ann’s face changed, contorted and she started to moan. The sensations slowly moved through her, from her chest to her tummy and finally to her clitoris.
John played her masterfully. He knew exactly what to do and when to do it. As her tension built, he moved one had down, under the front flap of her loincloth.
She was dripping wet.
Slowly, he felt for her clit. It was swollen and highly sensitive and he was careful to not finish it. Not yet. That was not the point. He gently flicked it and Ann let out small throat screams with each touch.
John’s hand returned to its place at her breast. He looked her directly in the eye. She knew the time had come.
John took her nipples, pinching them gently between his fore and middle fingers. He then caressed the captive pinks with his thumb and squeezed them tightly.
A sharp sensation of pain and pleasure shot through her whole body. She orgasmed powerfully and he kept up the sensation for only a moment, then released her. Her next actions would tell the tale.
Taking a deep breath, Ann composed herself kneeling upright again. “I present my throat to you, for your pleasure. Take of me deeply and fill me.” She opened her mouth, extending her tongue all the way out, moved forward and took him all the way into her. As ritual proscribed, she paused when his head met the back of her mouth.
Following tradition, John replied solemnly. He recognized the power of her gift and honored it. “I gladly accept your gift. I know what it means to you and I am grateful. I will fill you.” He reached out, one hand grabbing her by her hair behind her head and the other cupping her chin and throat. She was kneeling and tied up, helpless. He completely controlled her.
He waited a moment, moving her just slightly up and down, teasing her and relishing the moment, drinking in her rising expectation. And fear, real fear, he suddenly realized. Her body was tensing, trembling, and her breathing, through the nose, increased in depth and speed. She was drawing more, hyperventilating. This was partially out of fear but also in order for her to be able to hold it longer when fully penetrated. He could feel in her a combination of pleasurable expectation mixed with trepidation. These emotions, now radiating off her, gave him great excitement.
Finally, he thrust himself, slowly, inexorably, deep, into her throat. He coordinated his hip movements with his hold on her head in order to maximize the depth and his pleasure. He felt his cock go into her, deep into her, deep in her throat, past her tonsils and the curve of her neck. She tilted her head upwards, kneeling lower, putting out a choking sound as she straightening his path, inviting him deeper. He moved himself in and out, almost removing himself from her mouth only to once again push back inside, deeply and with great purpose. Sometimes, he would move slowly, relishing every inch. Other times, he would abruptly plunge himself in, hard, his pubis slamming into her nose, causing her to gag and gasp. He was testing her, trying to mess up the timing of her breathing.
He could fell the bulge with his fingers as has his hand tightened around her throat, as he moved in and out. He savored the smooth, wet warmth of it all, her saliva and mucous lubricating him, making his efforts easier with every push.
Her tongue moved around him. The flat surface running the bottom of his shaft. She moved it side to side working to increase the sensation. She also worked to wrap it around the head when he was pulling out and pushing in. She knew that he was very sensitive there. This was difficult because the head was getting bigger and bigger. She knew that when he came, his head with be larger than a golf ball. John was not a small man.
He heard her gasps and the choking sounds, the gagging and retching, muffled by his huge dick. She was giving herself to him, no doubt fighting her body’s instincts against choking, hold herself together for him, for his gratification and pleasure.
This continued for a long while. He obviously wanted to prolong the experience as long as he could, but he also wanted to make sure that his pleasure would reach its peak at the appropriate time. If he did not get it just right, Ann could die. Sometimes he went in slowly and other times he plunged in like swift knife thrust. Each style had its own place and time. John pushed and pulled, holding on to her head, completely controlling it, fucking her throat deeply as Ann struggled to get a breath in with each of his longer strokes.
Sometimes, he would just go deep and hold it there. Ann would respond, half in skill and half out of mere reflex, her tongue caressing him, trying to push it out. He was also testing her level of oxidation.
Occasionally, when he had hit a rhythm, he could feel Ann moving along with him, trying to help him as he forcibly violated her throat. To prolong the experience, he would, occasionally, take himself all the way out, allowing her to catch a breath or two, only to then plunge it back in, all the deeper and hold it in for longer.
He savored the sensation when the edges of his head brushed past the constrictions at the back of her throat, he could feel her uvula brushing the head of his penis. It was a special feeling that he very much enjoyed. He blessed her, in his mind, when she pushed her tongue out of her mouth, stretching to lick his balls as he went all the way down but also out of self-preservation reaction. Her body was, involuntarily, trying to trying to remove the obstruction. He pushed and pulled and moved and thrust with his hips and held her head tight, enjoying every second
As he stayed down for a longer and longer time, Ann started to have a hard time catching a breath. John determined that the time was near. In spite of her wishes, the young girl’s body started to revolt, squiring instinctively trying to escape, to get more oxygen. At this, John’s excitement rose. She struggled more forcefully against the ropes as he thrust ever more deeply. Her legs tried to get her up, but John was curling over her, using his whole body to hold himself deeper into her. As she struggled harder, John wrapped his legs around her head, holding it there.
At the end, he felt the gasping spasms in her throat, the nerves of her throat trying to swallow the obstruction that was choking her. Her tongue moved furiously trying to push him out, rubbing furiously against his most sensitive area and the underside of his cock, caressing the nerves there. He snatched a glance at her eyes - always monitor the eyes - and saw them starting to roll back and her eyelids flutter. She was slowly losing consciousness, he body twitching without any coordination.
This was the critical moment.
The time was here and he could hold back no longer, the sensation was so all encompassing, tight, slippery, moist, warm, smooth. It was the best sensation of all. He came, hard, feeling his essence flowing inside her, the surging as they rushed to fill the tubular spaces as he climaxed, squirting out, hard and deep, deep inside her throat. He let out a primal grunt as he pushed harder into her, his legs tightening around her head, his whole body behind it. The head of his penis swelled to almost double its size as he came, completely closing off all possibility for breath. He could feel himself throbbing with his hand that tightly held her throat.
Ann felt it as well. Her vision was fading. Her struggling doubled, then tripled in its intensity, like an animal trying to escape strangulation, fighting against the thick fluid that was coursing powerfully down her throat. It felt like she was drowning, completely awash in his semen. She swallowed and swallowed, but these sensations only added to her Master’s pleasure and made him push harder all the more, completely down her throat.
Ann’s eyes rolled all the way back, her eyelids started to close, her vision turning dark as the lack of oxygen started to cause her to loose consciousness. She started to go limp, with some reflexive twitches every now and then. She was going.
But John had had his fill. He released her, gently pulled her off and released her head. She fell between his legs, unable to stay upright, her whole-body limp and unconscious. John untied her and fell back in his chair, totally spent.
Lying on the floor between his legs, Ann started and gasped for breath, coughing to clear her airway. Gradually, her breathing returned to normal and she sat up on her knees. Wiping her face on her robe, a bright smile came to her face. She well knew the psychology of what he had gone through. The excitement, the sensation, the unthinking, orgasmic frenzy, followed by the release and the tinges of guilt and shame for so wanting what he had just had. This was the way of men, especially the way of oral pleasure for men. They all wanted it but, if they were not complete sociopaths, they all felt a little guilty afterwards. John had taught her this about himself and she had found it to be true in all of her other experiences.

Men loved to dominate, to be in control. And they loved women who allowed them to be. But it was more than that, she had learned. And all men who were allowed this gift felt guilty afterwards. Her job now was to assuage that guilt lest it damage him.
“Is my Master pleased?” she asked, putting a happy, little girl tone into her voice, rubbing his legs were her hands, calming him down. She well knew how to sooth his soul.
John shook his head, clearing it. “Yes, I am. That was excellent, Ann. Thank you, my little one. Thank you, so much. That was exactly what I needed.”
Her mood immediately perked up. She leaned over and started, gently, sucking his cock. She looked up at him, slipping into her most innocent, little girl persona. “Did I do good, Daddy? Huh? Did I do good?” She teased him, ensuring him that she was all right and still loved him, very much.
“It was my pleasure, truly. You have always been so good to me. And you have trained me very well. I will always desire to pay you back, whenever and wherever you desire. That is my vow.”
She stood up, and cocked a hip at him, striking a seductive pose, her pert little breasts aiming at him their hard nipples pointing slightly upward. “You see, Daddy? I am still excited.”
“Get in bed. I want you to stay the night.”
She squealed with pleasure, clapping her hands and jumping onto the big bed. “Oh, goodie. A sleep over.” He joined her and kissed her tenderly. The kiss of true love.
They fell asleep in spooning in each other’s arms. At some time during the night, they made love. Softly, slowly, taking their time and just enjoying each other, healing each other. They fell asleep again.