Origins of the Personalia
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Origins: Fucked Into Femininity free porn video
I’ll keep updating my diary of the years I worked as a “faithful consultant” for Cyrus and his firm, doing all manner of deeply perverted things for his select group of occasionally sadistic clients.
I should also tell you how I got this way.
I left college and pursued a professional degree in international finance. I was, and am, pretty clever, so making money was never a real concern, but I realized right away I wasn’t ‘marrying material’. I was way too horny, all the time, and unable to commit to a stable, long-term relationship. And that was fine. After school I worked for several years with a major firm doing geopolitical risk analysis for multinational corporations establishing operations in emerging economies. The hours were long and involved lots of travel. Crazy amounts of travel. But the perks were nice: long flights were always business class, and usually I was put up in nice hotels or apartments while I was on the ground with the clients.
I knew early on in my college days that I was pretty kinky, and I ended up having several bi experiences, usually with me sucking another guy’s cock during group play. In fact, I was usually sucking cock when another guy was involved. It eventually dawned on me that I was not just bisexual, but also had a submissive side that I needed to explore. It would take time to come to that realization, and I wondered about how I would find someone I trusted enough to make me submit? With women I was still aroused and performed well as a lover. In fact, as I grew older, more mature women in particular began to see me as a desirable friend with benefits. But I needed to express this other side of my sexual nature.
As it turned out, the solution quite literally imposed itself upon me.
I’d been sent to Istanbul to advise a small group from a much larger corporation, who were negotiating with a Turkish partner to establish a specialized production facility outside of the city. There was also a government team overseeing the process, and their leader was a large man with a quiet, compelling voice, who seemed to command attention in a room simply by entering.
We ended up working well together, and after a week we’d finalized the operation. He invited me to a quiet place for a drink afterward, to celebrate.
We didn’t talk much, but I found myself mesmerized by his voice when we did chat a bit about backgrounds and interests. His english was flawless, but distinctly accented. He was forthright to the point of bluntness, telling me about his wife and family, but also the young men he kept as lovers in the city. At first I was shocked, but then, bizarrely, I found myself telling him about my recent sexual awakening.
We finished our drinks, and he took my wrist in a massive hand, surprisingly gentle but also with a hint of firm confidence.
“Let’s go to the baths” he said, as we got up. I felt a bit tipsy as I stood, and I felt his hand on my elbow and the small of my back, guiding me out. I didn’t think of protesting, or even asking where we’d be going.
The baths turned out to be not far at all from the small cafe/bar he’d taken me to. It was a discreet, beautiful old building. He nodded to an attendant, then directed me inside.
We were in some kind of small locker room.
“Take off your clothes, and put them there” he directed, gesturing to a bank of lockers. He did the same, and I found myself staring before I could catch myself. His limp cock was still massive, and his chest was like a barrel of muscle. He was a very stocky man, with considerable body hair, a dark mediterranean complexion, and intense eyes, which had by now noticed my gaze.
“Sorry, I --”
“Come” he interrupted. Against his considerable bulk I must have seemed almost waiflike. I keep in good shape, but my body isn’t terribly hairy, and is naturally rather slight. I’d call myself toned. As we passed a mirror and I glimpsed the two of us passing, it was the first time it occurred to me that I might also seem rather feminine when compared to raw masculinity.
He directed me, again by the small of my now-naked back, to a stern woman in a grey uniform by a door.
“Get him ready” my companion told her. It occurred to me that, beyond his official title, I had no idea of his name, and nor did he seem interested in volunteering that information. The woman took me by the wrist, opened the door, and nodded inside.
Inside this small room was what seemed to be a kind of nursing station or something like that, but it had a shower, bench, and small step ladder. She turned on the shower, adjusted the temperature, and gestured me in. I complied, then she pulled me out of the water.
I stood there as she prepared a small tray with shaving implements, and proceeded to sit on the bench, lather my legs and buttocks, and with work-like efficiency shave what hair I had. She continued by lifting my legs and pushing me about, lathering then shaving my balls and ass, at points forcing my leg up on the stepladder. After some of this she stopped, nodded at her work, then pushed me toward the shower.
I rinsed off after this indignity, but strangely I wasn’t at all upset or nervous. Instead I was amazed that this man seemed to have a dedicated staff at what I presumed was a private club, devoted solely to preparing his male lovers! As I rinsed and pondered this fact, the gruff woman was rummaging through a drawer, then approached me again, holding a strange contraption.
“Bend” she ordered, pointing at the bench. I did as she asked, then felt her press something deep up my ass. There was a strange sensation as warm water rushed deep inside me, then I was released.
“Stay, stay tight.”
I assumed she meant to clench my sphincter, which I did. It was my first enema, and it was a doozy. After a minute of this embarrassing posture, she took my arm and gestured to the shower drain.
“There, squat, loose.”
I should have been angry and humiliated, squatting over a shower drain in some mysterious Turkish bath in a city far from home, with a stern woman watching me empty my bowels over a drain in the floor. But oddly I wasn’t. I don’t know that I felt anything but curious.
Apparently that large single enema worked to the attendant’s satisfaction, because she stood me up, bent me over again, rummaged again in the drawer, then returned with something I couldn’t make out. I felt a cold wet intrusion in my anus, then sliding back and forth, leaving a thick wet sensation as she withdrew whatever she was using to apply a great deal of lubricant to my ass.
“Ready. Go.” She said, pointing to the door. I did as she ordered, and as I opened and looked out, she pointed to a small staircase off to the side of the hallway.
“Up there” I heard, and then the door was closed behind me.
I realized then I was shaking. I suppose I could still have walked away, going back down that hall to the lockers, dressing, and finding my way back to the hotel. Instead, I found myself drawn up the stairs.
The stairs opened into an upper rooftop area, small and intimate, with lounging chairs, cushioned chaises, and a central hot bath. As I entered, I saw the man who was to be my lover rise and emerge from the bath. I gasped quietly at how large he was, now that I saw him, and how erect: his engorged cock was terrifying. As he approached me with an air of confident certainty that I would do his bidding, I realized with utter clarity the truth that has led my sexual exploits ever since: while I can make love to women, I am not a real man in the presence of b**sts like this. I knew in that instant I was a submissive feminine slut for raw, powerful masculinity.
It is hard to describe the experience of having a man systematically fuck the masculinity out of you, first taking your mouth, then your throat, making you stroke his shaft and quiety beg to be violated repeatedly in all manner of positions. That was my evening.
As he approached I trembled, but when he put his hands on my shoulders my reaction was instinctual. I dropped to my knees, looking up at his massive chest as he directed his cock to my mouth. While I had sucked several cocks in the past, I had never been throat-fucked, and this man seemed to sense that, guiding my face and head with his fingers along my jaw, then throat, coaxing me slowly to swallow as he explored my throat with his cock. With each deeper insertion, I gazed up into his eyes, feeling panicked and violated, but wanting with increasing desperation to please him.
This went on until I’d finally mastered the trick of swallowing with each thrust, letting his cock snake down toward my stomach instead of suffocating me in my windpipe. I could still feel my gag reflex with each thrust, but I began to feel that I could control that impulse the same way as when you swallow some food just a bit bigger than you thought, or a large pill.
Once I became comfortable deep-throating this cock, I relaxed my body and let him use me as he wished. And he did, but he didn’t release himself that way. I felt his cock tense up and prepared for an onslaught of semen, but then he pulled out, lifted me up as if I weighed nothing, spreading my legs easily, and in one seamless unrelenting move, heaving me up and impaling me on his member.
I cried out as his cock rose up inside me. I was facing him, and without thinking wrapped my legs around his massive waist and my arms around his neck. I again stared into his eyes as he began to lift and lower me onto his cock.
We weren’t in this position long until I could feel his cock pulse and his hips thrust his cock deep into me as he emptied his seed into my belly. I was shaking uncontrollably and felt my far more modest cock pulse as I came between our bellies. He chuckled at that, then took one hand, the other holding my back, scooped up my seed, and smeared it on my smooth, heaving chest. He then gently lay me down on one of the chaises, where I gasped and tried to recover some sense of composure.
As I lay there, my slight smooth body spent, staring up at the evening sky with the Istanbul lights flickering below the arched walls of this rooftop lounge, I heard a shower running, over against one of the walls. I realized then and there that this was now a part of my life: being used by aggressive, confident, dominant men who would fuck me into feminine submission. I knew there were dominant women who liked using submissive men, but these dommes were of no interest to me beyond finding me lovers like this refined, wonderful brute of a lover who presumably would fuck me again in due course.
As I worked through all of this I hadn’t heard the shower turn off, but suddenly I felt hands toss me over on my belly and lift my hips up high. Again without so much as a thought, I assumed a position I would become intimately familiar with over the coming months and years, with many, many men. My legs spread themselves ridiculously wide as I thrust my ass in the air and arched my back, with my hands folded over each other above my head in a classic submissive pose of complete sexual availability.
How could he be hard again so soon?! He was, and without any formalities he mounted me and began fucking me in earnest. It was painful, but from this position his cock would slide deep into my well-lubricated anus and tickle my prostate with each powerful stroke, and before long I found my small cock growing firmer, although still flopping helplessly with each grinding stroke of this tank of a man. I’m pretty sure I came again, although just a few spurts, nothing like the massive flood of seed that was helping to lubricate my insides.
This pounding lasted much, much longer than the first, but eventually I again felt that flood of warmth inside me, then heard a slurping, popping sound as my ass was freed of cock and slipped tight again.
I’m pretty sure I fell asleep for a long time. When I awoke there were several other men in the hot tub, going about their routine as if it was perfectly ordinary for a smooth white man to be passed out nearby, his chest and ass caked with dried semen. The gruff woman was holding a small cup of what looked like thick syrupy coffee, thrusting it at me. There was a glow on the horizon that suggested morning was close.
“Drink. Dress, then go.”
I did as she ordered, wobbling as I stood up. She helped me down to the locker room, waited while I showered and dressed, then walked me out to a waiting car that drove me back to my hotel.
The next afternoon I made my way to the airport, still walking with a pronounced wobble to my hips. My giant lover was there at the terminal to see me off. Without a word he handed me a card and walked to a waiting government car, which promptly drove off. I looked at the card. It was not the business card he’d given me earlier, but a simpler card, with a single email address emblazoned on a white background.
I made my way to my departure gate, slipping the card inside my suit jacket pocket.
I should also tell you how I got this way.
I left college and pursued a professional degree in international finance. I was, and am, pretty clever, so making money was never a real concern, but I realized right away I wasn’t ‘marrying material’. I was way too horny, all the time, and unable to commit to a stable, long-term relationship. And that was fine. After school I worked for several years with a major firm doing geopolitical risk analysis for multinational corporations establishing operations in emerging economies. The hours were long and involved lots of travel. Crazy amounts of travel. But the perks were nice: long flights were always business class, and usually I was put up in nice hotels or apartments while I was on the ground with the clients.
I knew early on in my college days that I was pretty kinky, and I ended up having several bi experiences, usually with me sucking another guy’s cock during group play. In fact, I was usually sucking cock when another guy was involved. It eventually dawned on me that I was not just bisexual, but also had a submissive side that I needed to explore. It would take time to come to that realization, and I wondered about how I would find someone I trusted enough to make me submit? With women I was still aroused and performed well as a lover. In fact, as I grew older, more mature women in particular began to see me as a desirable friend with benefits. But I needed to express this other side of my sexual nature.
As it turned out, the solution quite literally imposed itself upon me.
I’d been sent to Istanbul to advise a small group from a much larger corporation, who were negotiating with a Turkish partner to establish a specialized production facility outside of the city. There was also a government team overseeing the process, and their leader was a large man with a quiet, compelling voice, who seemed to command attention in a room simply by entering.
We ended up working well together, and after a week we’d finalized the operation. He invited me to a quiet place for a drink afterward, to celebrate.
We didn’t talk much, but I found myself mesmerized by his voice when we did chat a bit about backgrounds and interests. His english was flawless, but distinctly accented. He was forthright to the point of bluntness, telling me about his wife and family, but also the young men he kept as lovers in the city. At first I was shocked, but then, bizarrely, I found myself telling him about my recent sexual awakening.
We finished our drinks, and he took my wrist in a massive hand, surprisingly gentle but also with a hint of firm confidence.
“Let’s go to the baths” he said, as we got up. I felt a bit tipsy as I stood, and I felt his hand on my elbow and the small of my back, guiding me out. I didn’t think of protesting, or even asking where we’d be going.
The baths turned out to be not far at all from the small cafe/bar he’d taken me to. It was a discreet, beautiful old building. He nodded to an attendant, then directed me inside.
We were in some kind of small locker room.
“Take off your clothes, and put them there” he directed, gesturing to a bank of lockers. He did the same, and I found myself staring before I could catch myself. His limp cock was still massive, and his chest was like a barrel of muscle. He was a very stocky man, with considerable body hair, a dark mediterranean complexion, and intense eyes, which had by now noticed my gaze.
“Sorry, I --”
“Come” he interrupted. Against his considerable bulk I must have seemed almost waiflike. I keep in good shape, but my body isn’t terribly hairy, and is naturally rather slight. I’d call myself toned. As we passed a mirror and I glimpsed the two of us passing, it was the first time it occurred to me that I might also seem rather feminine when compared to raw masculinity.
He directed me, again by the small of my now-naked back, to a stern woman in a grey uniform by a door.
“Get him ready” my companion told her. It occurred to me that, beyond his official title, I had no idea of his name, and nor did he seem interested in volunteering that information. The woman took me by the wrist, opened the door, and nodded inside.
Inside this small room was what seemed to be a kind of nursing station or something like that, but it had a shower, bench, and small step ladder. She turned on the shower, adjusted the temperature, and gestured me in. I complied, then she pulled me out of the water.
I stood there as she prepared a small tray with shaving implements, and proceeded to sit on the bench, lather my legs and buttocks, and with work-like efficiency shave what hair I had. She continued by lifting my legs and pushing me about, lathering then shaving my balls and ass, at points forcing my leg up on the stepladder. After some of this she stopped, nodded at her work, then pushed me toward the shower.
I rinsed off after this indignity, but strangely I wasn’t at all upset or nervous. Instead I was amazed that this man seemed to have a dedicated staff at what I presumed was a private club, devoted solely to preparing his male lovers! As I rinsed and pondered this fact, the gruff woman was rummaging through a drawer, then approached me again, holding a strange contraption.
“Bend” she ordered, pointing at the bench. I did as she asked, then felt her press something deep up my ass. There was a strange sensation as warm water rushed deep inside me, then I was released.
“Stay, stay tight.”
I assumed she meant to clench my sphincter, which I did. It was my first enema, and it was a doozy. After a minute of this embarrassing posture, she took my arm and gestured to the shower drain.
“There, squat, loose.”
I should have been angry and humiliated, squatting over a shower drain in some mysterious Turkish bath in a city far from home, with a stern woman watching me empty my bowels over a drain in the floor. But oddly I wasn’t. I don’t know that I felt anything but curious.
Apparently that large single enema worked to the attendant’s satisfaction, because she stood me up, bent me over again, rummaged again in the drawer, then returned with something I couldn’t make out. I felt a cold wet intrusion in my anus, then sliding back and forth, leaving a thick wet sensation as she withdrew whatever she was using to apply a great deal of lubricant to my ass.
“Ready. Go.” She said, pointing to the door. I did as she ordered, and as I opened and looked out, she pointed to a small staircase off to the side of the hallway.
“Up there” I heard, and then the door was closed behind me.
I realized then I was shaking. I suppose I could still have walked away, going back down that hall to the lockers, dressing, and finding my way back to the hotel. Instead, I found myself drawn up the stairs.
The stairs opened into an upper rooftop area, small and intimate, with lounging chairs, cushioned chaises, and a central hot bath. As I entered, I saw the man who was to be my lover rise and emerge from the bath. I gasped quietly at how large he was, now that I saw him, and how erect: his engorged cock was terrifying. As he approached me with an air of confident certainty that I would do his bidding, I realized with utter clarity the truth that has led my sexual exploits ever since: while I can make love to women, I am not a real man in the presence of b**sts like this. I knew in that instant I was a submissive feminine slut for raw, powerful masculinity.
It is hard to describe the experience of having a man systematically fuck the masculinity out of you, first taking your mouth, then your throat, making you stroke his shaft and quiety beg to be violated repeatedly in all manner of positions. That was my evening.
As he approached I trembled, but when he put his hands on my shoulders my reaction was instinctual. I dropped to my knees, looking up at his massive chest as he directed his cock to my mouth. While I had sucked several cocks in the past, I had never been throat-fucked, and this man seemed to sense that, guiding my face and head with his fingers along my jaw, then throat, coaxing me slowly to swallow as he explored my throat with his cock. With each deeper insertion, I gazed up into his eyes, feeling panicked and violated, but wanting with increasing desperation to please him.
This went on until I’d finally mastered the trick of swallowing with each thrust, letting his cock snake down toward my stomach instead of suffocating me in my windpipe. I could still feel my gag reflex with each thrust, but I began to feel that I could control that impulse the same way as when you swallow some food just a bit bigger than you thought, or a large pill.
Once I became comfortable deep-throating this cock, I relaxed my body and let him use me as he wished. And he did, but he didn’t release himself that way. I felt his cock tense up and prepared for an onslaught of semen, but then he pulled out, lifted me up as if I weighed nothing, spreading my legs easily, and in one seamless unrelenting move, heaving me up and impaling me on his member.
I cried out as his cock rose up inside me. I was facing him, and without thinking wrapped my legs around his massive waist and my arms around his neck. I again stared into his eyes as he began to lift and lower me onto his cock.
We weren’t in this position long until I could feel his cock pulse and his hips thrust his cock deep into me as he emptied his seed into my belly. I was shaking uncontrollably and felt my far more modest cock pulse as I came between our bellies. He chuckled at that, then took one hand, the other holding my back, scooped up my seed, and smeared it on my smooth, heaving chest. He then gently lay me down on one of the chaises, where I gasped and tried to recover some sense of composure.
As I lay there, my slight smooth body spent, staring up at the evening sky with the Istanbul lights flickering below the arched walls of this rooftop lounge, I heard a shower running, over against one of the walls. I realized then and there that this was now a part of my life: being used by aggressive, confident, dominant men who would fuck me into feminine submission. I knew there were dominant women who liked using submissive men, but these dommes were of no interest to me beyond finding me lovers like this refined, wonderful brute of a lover who presumably would fuck me again in due course.
As I worked through all of this I hadn’t heard the shower turn off, but suddenly I felt hands toss me over on my belly and lift my hips up high. Again without so much as a thought, I assumed a position I would become intimately familiar with over the coming months and years, with many, many men. My legs spread themselves ridiculously wide as I thrust my ass in the air and arched my back, with my hands folded over each other above my head in a classic submissive pose of complete sexual availability.
How could he be hard again so soon?! He was, and without any formalities he mounted me and began fucking me in earnest. It was painful, but from this position his cock would slide deep into my well-lubricated anus and tickle my prostate with each powerful stroke, and before long I found my small cock growing firmer, although still flopping helplessly with each grinding stroke of this tank of a man. I’m pretty sure I came again, although just a few spurts, nothing like the massive flood of seed that was helping to lubricate my insides.
This pounding lasted much, much longer than the first, but eventually I again felt that flood of warmth inside me, then heard a slurping, popping sound as my ass was freed of cock and slipped tight again.
I’m pretty sure I fell asleep for a long time. When I awoke there were several other men in the hot tub, going about their routine as if it was perfectly ordinary for a smooth white man to be passed out nearby, his chest and ass caked with dried semen. The gruff woman was holding a small cup of what looked like thick syrupy coffee, thrusting it at me. There was a glow on the horizon that suggested morning was close.
“Drink. Dress, then go.”
I did as she ordered, wobbling as I stood up. She helped me down to the locker room, waited while I showered and dressed, then walked me out to a waiting car that drove me back to my hotel.
The next afternoon I made my way to the airport, still walking with a pronounced wobble to my hips. My giant lover was there at the terminal to see me off. Without a word he handed me a card and walked to a waiting government car, which promptly drove off. I looked at the card. It was not the business card he’d given me earlier, but a simpler card, with a single email address emblazoned on a white background.
I made my way to my departure gate, slipping the card inside my suit jacket pocket.
Emely
- 07.07.2020
- 10
- 0
