Merry Christmas Bboy. Sure, it doesn't have a gay theme, but most of the other elements of your "ideal" story are here, or will be by the time I'm done. Alas, I haven't gotten to the coup de grace yet, but good things come to those who wait; perhaps in part three our hero will lose it. Stay tuned, the muse can't be rushed.
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Back in the limousine, M raised up her dress as she lowered herself onto the seat, exposing her sex as she did. Once seated she spread her legs apart and stared at me lasciviously, which I took as my cue to assume the position and service her with my mouth. M was obviously still tremendously aroused from the performance and the video, because my tongue had hardly begun laving her clitoris when she shuddered and sighed, signaling her first orgasm. I paused briefly to allow her to recover a bit, and as I did this I noticed Denise had also raised her dress and was pleasuring herself vigorously with a dildo and her fingers. The air inside the compartment was permeated with the aroma of feminine arousal; it caused my cock to strain painfully against my snug-fitting pants. Soon M placed a hand on my neck and pulled me gently back to her mons. For a time we rode through the night like this, the only sounds the labored breathing of the limo's occupants and the humming of its wheels. Finally, in a hoarse whisper between breaths, M began to speak. "You know ... If you stay with me long enough ... that I'll want you to do what he did for her, don't you?" she barely managed to articulate as she approached another climax. Pulling my face just far enough away from her sex to be heard, I replied softly, "I know." "Does that scare you?" "Oh yes." "And does it excite you?" "Most definitely." M placed two fingers under my chin and tilted my head upward so that I was looking directly at her beautiful face. I felt dizzy and giddy as she gazed deeply into my eyes, searching seemingly for my very soul. We remained with our eyes locked together for several minutes, aware of nothing except each other. "Are you willing to do that for me? ... It's a big sacrifice ... and it's irreversible." A long silence followed as I considered the question. My cock became so hard it began to ache. I wondered idly whether that was a sign of my true desire to become a cockless submissive in the service of this enchantress. Certainly I couldn't imagine going back to being "normal," or a future without M. Finally, I nodded my head affirmatively and returned to my previous task, sucking her clitoris into my mouth with a flourish. Judging by the violent quivering and wailing that followed, it was blatantly obvious that she approved of both responses. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Fortunately, my parents thought it would be a good idea for me to spend time traveling around the world before starting college - I was slated to begin my freshman year at USC in the Fall - so the next day I packed what I could into a few suitcases and became M's "entourage." The next stop on the tour, The estyle.com Classic, was just up the coast in Los Angeles. M rented a car and we took the scenic route. I played tour guide, making side trips to points of interest such as Del Mar, Newport Beach and San Juan Capistrano, as we made our way leisurely north. The tournament was held at the sports facility built for the Olympics, more or less in the shadow of the Colosseum, and about a block from the university where I had planned to attend. Since M had won the previous tournament, she did not have to enter this one as a qualifier. After the draw was announced and M was assigned a locker, she and I wandered aimlessly around and eventually found ourselves in the middle of the USC campus. As I gazed upon the bronze statue of a Trojan warrior there (fondly referred to by students and alumni as "Tommy Trojan"), I realized it was highly unlikely that I would ever be able to settle for what this institution had to offer - the abrupt change my life had taken in the past few weeks made it impossible for me to seriously contemplate pursuing my previous mundane goals. That night we went into Hollywood and checked out the scenes on Melrose, Santa Monica and Sunset. M dragged me into an ultra-hip salon called Extreme Alternatives. Stylized outlines of nude men and women rendered in crimson- and lime-colored neon were mounted strategically throughout on mirror-covered walls, giving the place an ambience of futuristic hedonism. From somewhere not particularly obvious the sound of very cool piano and sax flavored jazz complemented the visual presentation. I became so absorbed in viewing the tattoo and piercing catalogs and the various exotic accouterments in the display cases that I didn't notice M had drifted off and become engaged in conversation with the jeweler until she called to me and beckoned me over. "There is a special piece of jewelry that I want to have Moira make for you," she announced upon my arrival, waving her hand toward a slender woman with a shaved head who stood behind the counter looking at me bemusedly. "I need to take some measurements. Please come with me," the woman said, and then she turned and walked through a doorway to her right. Like a good little sheep, I dutifully followed her. When I caught up with her, she was standing beside what looked to be a doctor's examining table. "Take off your pants and underwear and jump up here," she said matter-of-factly, patting the spot on the table where she wanted me to sit. Predictably, my cock sprang to life at the prospect of stripping for this exotic-looking woman. By now I was getting accustomed to doing what women told me to do without hesitation, so I quickly undressed and hopped up on the table, despite my embarrassing hard-on. "Well, lookie here!" she said, smirking ever so slightly. "I'm afraid we're going to have tame that little tiger if I'm going to get the measurements I need." Without explanation, she left the room. When she returned she was carrying a metal bowl full of water and ice cubes. She laid the bowl beside me on the table and proceeded to dunk a washcloth into the icy liquid it contained. Next she took the washcloth out of the bowl and wrapped it around my erect - soon to be flaccid - cock. Once she had achieved the desired result, she dried me off and quickly marked three spots on the top of my now-shriveled member with a felt pen: one flush to my body; one adjacent to my glans; and one dead center between the other two. Moira extracted a ringsizer from her pocket and began testing different orifices on the device at each of the markings until she was satisfied that she had the correct size for each location. When she was done, she kissed the head of my cock softly and then told me to get dressed and rejoin M, which I did with relative dispatch. M and Moira were just finishing up their transaction when I emerged from the back room. M hooked her arm in mine and guided me toward the exit. Just before we stepped out the door she looked backward, waved and said, "I'll see you Thursday night." ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ M drew a very tough opponent in the first round - then the number three player in the world - so there was no gradual build up in the severity of my prematch abuse. She started right out by vigorously plowing my ass with a ten-inch strap-on. This was followed by an intense and lengthy caning on my ass and legs, the residual evidence of which made it impossible to wear shorts in public without attracting attention. M's final preparation for the match involved straddling a dildo attached to my penis gag, and bringing herself to three shuddering orgasms as I lay beneath her naked, bound and in pain. Thank goodness she won the match, I would not want to have endured that in vain. M followed this routine during the next two matches. Although she beat both of the players she faced, the semifinal match was very long, physically demanding, and close, not decided until she broke serve in the ninth game of the third set and then closed out the match on her own serve. It was pretty obvious to me that she would want to step it up for the final, but I didn't have a clue how she would do it. That night, when we returned to Extreme Alternatives, I was to learn that M had anticipated the need at hand. Moira greeted us as we entered the shop and motioned for us to follow her into the back. Once again I was instructed to strip and jump up on the examining table. While I did this, Moira fetched her tiger tamer. After my cock was properly subdued, Moira produced an unusual-looking piece of jewelry and began to slide it onto my shaft. It was made of gold and consisted of three small, evenly spaced rings connected with short lengths of chain. She maneuvered it until the ring at one end was flush against my body and the ring at the other end was at the base of my glans. I could see that there were small holes at corresponding intervals on each of the outer rings, and an inscription on the center ring that read: Property of M. Before long Moira brought out a needle and a spool of gold-metal thread. She threaded the needle and then proceeded to sew the inner and outer rings to my cock. She used the holes in each of them as anchor points and ran the thread through the skin two or three times before tying the thread off and fusing it together with a soldering iron. When she was done, it was quite snug and secure - there was not any chance of it coming loose accidentally. I realized that there was not any chance of me getting an erection either. Of course, just thinking that caused my cock to attempt to become hard. But those rings were very effective at suppressing my arousal; and with surprisingly little discomfort, just a firm and unyielding resistance. M grasped my custom-made chastity device between her fingers and gazed at it lustfully. With just a trace of a sadistic smile upon her lips, she said: "I want you to get used to not using your cock. That way, you really won't miss it when you finally give it up." There was a certain perverse logic to what she said, and her words triggered a sharp jolt to my libido. A delicious, unrelenting ache erupted in my loins. It has been with me ever since. "And just knowing you're all locked up until the day you get cut will keep me constantly aroused and in a dominant mind-set. It should go a long way toward getting me psyched up for my matches." M leaned down and ran her tongue over the head of my cock, slowly and sensuously. She raised up and kissed my cheek tenderly, then clutched my testicles forcefully as she gripped the back of my neck and kissed me long and passionately. If there had been any chance of me wavering, this ended it. At that point I knew I was a complete goner, I would go anywhere and do anything if M wanted me to. The results of her recent tennis matches, along with the placement of my new piece of jewelry, gave M the confidence to go into the match without any "special" preparation. As it happened, M's opponent was the same woman she had played in the finals of the previous tournament. It was a high caliber tennis match, very exciting to watch, and the crowd really got into it. Each set was decided by a tiebreaker, the final tiebreaker ending at 16-14 in M's favor. The outcome of the match proved to the tennis world, her opponent and, most importantly, M that her previous championship victory wasn't a fluke - a new force to be reckoned with had arrived on the women's tennis scene. ... To be continued Author's Note: Kids, do not try the things depicted in this story at home. They should only be performed by trained erotica writers. And please note that all the above-referenced individuals are fictional characters and that the events of this story did not happen to me or anyone else. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~