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Author's Chapter Notes:
So after a few years of silence, I do seem to have the fetish/porn-writing bug back just a little. In fact, I wrote the first part of this not long after going to my real-life hairdresser a few months ago. So, this is a story of which the premise is totally based on truth. (Damn, I need to actually banter with this woman.)

"Oh, please," my hairdresser said, both scoffing and dismissing my statement, "if I gave you a blow job, I'd own you!"

Causing me to choke.

Okay, so my hair dresser and I banter and debate a lot. I'm an educated liberal feminist, and she's definitely not. Whenever I come in, which is every couple of months or so, we get onto a debate on feminism. It's odd, because I'm a man and she's a woman, and I'm sticking up for her gender, and she thinks it's all BS. That's what makes it fun, and keeps me coming back to her place to keep my hair in check. That, and I've got a bit of a hard-on for her – all 6-foot-1-heavy of her.

We are able to have these candid, and sometimes raunchy, debates because she's the owner-operator of her own single-person salon, and there are usually no other customers in the shop. I don't quite remember how we got onto the topic of fellatio, but I had been arguing that its prevalence was symbolic of men's dominance over women.

I choked, because she both brought it to the personal level – her and I – as well as suggesting that act – which had its own stimulus on my brain (& etc.) – as well as saying that she'd "own" me. The idea of being "owned" by this physically powerful woman, who dwarfed me just a little, sent about just as much blood to my scrotum as the idea of having her mouth around my scrotum. It was clear that the blood rushing downward was leaving my brain undersupplied, as I was unable to form a response. She laughed her head off at my momentary incapacity. That returned the blood to my head, ie. my cheeks.

"Oh, I gotcha there. Look at that blush!"

I smiled in my embarrassment, chalking it up to having lost a round of banter, while she returned to the task of trimming my hair. I needed to calm myself down, because as soon as she was done, I'd have to stand up out of the chair. That would mean that my stiffy would show. The problem was that it seemed like she was leaning just a little bit more forward as she worked on me, drawing herself closer to me. She even lowered the chair slightly, allowing her to really loom over me. That felt really awesome, but did not help me relax myself.

Some moments of silence passed as she loomed, and I attempted to think of things – anything – that would force my nethers to recoil. My control over my own mind, and thus my nethers, was not that strong, however. Soon, even my seated position, and the natural curl of my pants was not enough to hide me.

She stopped cutting my hair.

"Wow, that really did a number on you, didn't it?" she observed.

I chuckled a nervous acknowledgement.

"I meant it, you know," she said, getting back to trimming. "I'd have complete power over you," she added with as much nonchalantness as if she had been commenting on the weather.

I cleared my throat to force myself to be in control of myself. I did like her as a person, and she certainly had a certain way about her, but it's not as if she was some sort of bombshell seductress. She was a large and somewhat heavy-set woman in her mid-to-late thirties, and I was a decent-looking man in my early forties. I was a young-ish college professor, with a fair amount of self-confidence in my own right, while she was a hair dresser. The age, general looks, education and social class left me with the status advantage. It was fun that she was playing this game with me, but she shouldn't pretend that it was more than just a game. Besides, I was the paying customer.

I felt it was time to call her bluff.

"Oh, is that so?" I said, more than asked. "It sounds like you're making promises that you probably can't keep."

She wheeled me around in the chair to face her.

"You want to try me, mister?"

The 'mister' sounded like the kind of mister you would use on a naughty ten-year old.

Part of me was a bit annoyed, having her talk to me like that. Another part of me thought that this was pretty awesome. After all, we were essentially making a wager about her giving me head. If she was wrong, I'd be having her giving me the best blow job she could muster. If I was wrong, I'd still be getting that blow job, and then being putty in her hands as a result. Winning sounded great, but losing didn't sound that bad either. I generally liked the idea of being forced into submission by a strong and powerful woman. While she wasn't that bombshell seductress, she made up for it by being a strong and powerful woman, who was being assertive to boot.

"Yes, I want to try you!" I shot back.

She turned around and walked to the front door of the shop, where she put her hand on the switch to the 'open' sign.

"You'd better mean this, because if we go down this road, I do mean it: I will own you. You will be my slave."

"Seems fair," I said back, forcing myself to seem self-confident with a wry smile, though my confidence was slipping inside.

*There is no way that she can really enforce this, is there?* I asked myself.

"Alright…!" she said, shrugging, as she turned off the 'open' sign. She locked the door, turned off the lights, and drew the curtains.

It was darker in the shop, but not so dark that we couldn't make one another out. It was just enough not to be seen by prying eyes. But it certainly felt like this blow job was going to really go down, and my blood was circulating at an elevated pace.

"Get over in the shampoo chair," she directed me.

I saw what she was thinking. The shampoo chair would allow me to lay back a bit and give her better access to my pelvis.

I felt a bit awkward getting up. The excitement was making me clumsy, but I was able to position myself to sit down on the shampoo chair. Before I could actually sit myself down, however, she gave me a light push so that she forced me down.

"You're gonna so be mine," she said with a pirate smile.

"I look forward to it," I shot back.

"Uh huh," she replied, though with that tone of confidence that she'd be right, and I'd be surprised.

She knelt down in front of me, and unbuckled my belt.

"I thought the slave was supposed to be the one kneeling," I said by way of a taunt.

She stopped with the belt, and looked me in the eye.

"Yes, I will suck your dick, but you're going to be kissing my feet."

I'll confess. I'm a foot guy. She had big powerful feet, which I had a habit of stealing glances at. She tended to wear flip-flop sandals a lot. As a beauty specialist herself, it was clear that she knew how to get her own feet taken care of. Though I had life ambitions of climbing the faculty ladder at work, and becoming a bit of a big-shot, there was a primordial part of my brain that was hoping that she was absolutely right that this blow job was going to turn into a life of servitude for me.

She unzipped my pants and spread my fly open. I went to help her lower both the pants and the underwear, but she clearly didn't need my assistance, as I quickly found myself bare-bottomed in the faux-leather shampoo chair. My member stood at attention, pulsing slightly with my heartbeat.

"Come to mama," she said, as she engulfed my member into her mouth.

I'm not the smallest man in the world, but good lord this woman had a deep mouth as she really took me in. It was amazing! I closed my eyes and imagined myself entirely inside of her mouth, as if I was my own member. She worked her lips up and down around me, while her tongue caressed the underside of my shaft, where the feelings felt the best. My back arched from pleasure, sending my head into the shampoo basin. I began to buck slightly. On the outward motion, I picked my head up and looked down at her.

She stopped and looked me in the eye with that pirate smile again.

"Oh I'm going to enjoy owning you!" she said.

Before I could respond she engulfed me again.

"Yes, please!!" I all but shouted.

Her lips worked me up and down, and I felt my tip sliding down her throat. Again, I closed my eyes and imagined myself as my penis, wholly inside of her mouth, looking down into her esophagus.

"MMmmmm" she said, as if enjoying my taste. The humming vibration of her voice around me energized me even more. Her hands reached around me, grabbing my rear. With her strong arms, she forced me even closer to her. I placed my hands on her shoulders. It was amazing how strong she felt, and it felt even more amazing that she was not shy of manhandling me ever deeper into her mouth. Inside her mouth, she ran the tip of her tongue along the sensitive bottom of my penis to give it just that extra stimulation.

"Oh, thank you!!" I exulted as she continued to work me. "Oh, yes!" I continued, "swallow me up!"

It was at this stage that I could feel the climax approaching, and it was evident that she could tell. She stopped the tip-of-tongue stimulation and just went to town engulfing me again. On the in-strokes she gripped me ever more powerfully with her muscular arms and hands. Those buzzed my brain so much that I did not even recall the out-strokes. It was as if she was just continually drawing me into her mouth, and I could not imagine a more wonderful and voracious place.

Again she MMmmmm'd, and the vibration sent me over the edge.

I did not have the presence of mind to warn her of its approach, but just let myself flow down her throat. And flow I did! She did not take this as a cue to slow down either. If anything, she MMmmmm'd more powerfully, and used ever more force to draw me inside. As a result, my cum just kept on coming, and my orgasm continued. She also changed her tack and was now no longer relying on my penis to be a pump, but instead began to actually suck, creating a vacuum in her mouth to pull more of my fluid into her.

*Wow, what a beautiful fate for my spermies,* I managed to think, even as I continued to orgasm.

By now, however, I realized that something was very strange. I had never had an orgasm this long or powerful. But I was obviously not going to try to stop it. I was going to ride it for all it was worth. I wanted to give her every last CC of what I had; I wanted ever more of me to be engulfed into her throat.

As she continued to engulf, it started to feel like I was actually being deflated (defellated?). Through my hands on her shoulders, it also felt like she was growing from a big and powerful woman into an even bigger and more powerful woman. That might have concerned me to the point of action, were I not absolutely enthralled with the moment.

"Oh, yes!" I repeated, "swallow me UP!"

At which point she did indeed do an even more powerful draw on me taking that every last CC I had. I even started to feel a little colder as if she were drawing my warmth out of me too. The draining feeling felt good, but it actually also started to hurt, as if much more than just my cum was leaving me. That pain started to grow more powerful, and it began to eclipse the pleasure.

Just before I took action to try to stop the situation, she broke the suction, by letting me go.

Leaning back, she took a deep exasperated breath. I too inhaled as much oxygen as I could. A second later, I looked at her. Grinning giddily, I was about to express my appreciation when I noticed a trickle of something red at the side of her mouth. Blood? I looked down at my penis, and also saw a trickle from the urethral orifice.

She stood up on her feet in front of me. Wow, she was a giant of a woman. From my sitting position, it looked as if her head might even brush the ceiling. It had to be an optical effect from my vantage point leaning back in the shampoo chair.

She looked down at me, grinning, as she wiped the red from the side of her mouth. She was still catching her breath, just as I was. I wanted to get up as well to give her a big hug, but I was still exhausted. It had clearly taken a lot out of me. I struggled to sit up, and thankfully she took me by the hand and pulled me up and into her arms.

Those big arms completely surrounded me, and lifted me onto my feet, which felt a little wobbly. I closed my eyes as I forced myself to gain my footing. When I opened them again, I saw her face looking into mine. She was smiling.

"You okay there?" she asked.

"Uhm…yeah,… I think." I stammered. "Wow! That was…"

I had been about to express my surprise and appreciation for the best damn blow job I had ever had, when I noticed how much she was towering over me. Compared to her surroundings, she was certainly bigger than she had been, but it also seemed like I was distinctly smaller. My shirt even seemed to be much bigger on me than before.

"What the…?" I began to utter.

"Yeah, you're a bit smaller," she said.

"How…?" I asked, only able to start but not finish my questions.

"Not sure," she shrugged. "I just have that effect on the men I blow."

I looked up at her, stunned in disbelief.

"They don't seem to mind," she added.

It had certainly been mind-blowingly awesome, I reflected. I continued to look at her as my neurons tried to make sense of it all. She looked positively heroic in her proportions. Having just an inch or so on me before, her nose had been at the level of my eyes. Now I was looking up to see her mouth – that lovely mouth and its incredible skills.

"Aw, you're so cute at – what? – five-foot-eight?" she estimated.

"It's hard for me to tell, now that I'm a little bigger."

So it really was not an optical illusion.

"Do you wanna go down on me now?" she asked.

I looked up at her. I hadn't considered it. I thought the deal was… the deal. In fact, it was a bet, and I…

really wanted to go down on this heroically large woman who was looming over me.

Before it became a debate between us, or even just one within my own mind, she put her large hand on my shoulder and gently but firmly pushed me down.

"Yeah, ya do!" she said.

My knees buckled, and now I was on my knees in front of her. Still somewhat slow, I just looked at her belt buckle right in front of me. I began to reach for it, in order to return the favor – the way a gentleman does, when she interrupted.

"No, not yet," she said.

Her tone was a little different. It wasn't the tone of someone engaging in banter with the upper hand. It was the tone of someone laying down the law.

I looked up at her, to see what was on her face that was changing the normal way one thinks these things go. Wow, she really towered over me, with an in-charge-and-knowing-it look in her eye.

"Here's what's gonna happen."

She locked my gaze with hers, so that she knew she was drilling this into me:

"First, you're going to bring your face down to the ground. Then you're going to thank me for that awesome blowjob, and you're gonna kiss both my feet."

It sounded like she was going to continue with a "second," but didn't. There was a moment of tense silence. It seemed to be my turn.

I looked down at her feet. Wow, those peds were bigger, stronger, and closer than ever before. This really was the stuff of my fantasy. Being drawn to them, seemingly by heavier gravity but certainly my own compelled effort, my face came down to hover above her right foot.

"Thank you, mistress, for the best experience of my life," I said, surprising even myself with my choice of words.

I then both gently and meaningfully brought my lips down and reverentially, softly kissed her foot.

I knew that her instruction was to kiss both her feet, but I didn't feel quite done with the right one yet. I kissed it again, slightly more forcefully. Yes! I was kissing her foot! I was fulfilling exactly what she said would happen, and I was living my own foot-fetish fantasy. I kissed it again and again!

"Both feet!" she said firmly, seeming displeased with my lack of doing exactly as she had commanded.

I quickly complied and began to go to town on her left foot as well. I had gotten four kisses in when she spoke up again:


I stopped and looked up at her. Wasn't she pleased with me?

"Second," she said, continuing her list as if nothing had happened since she began it, "you're going to go home to recharge and rethink your life."

"You're going to think about what you really want out of life. Do you want to slave out for the system, becoming tenured faculty boss or whatever it is you're doing at the college,…"

"…or do you want to live and be a real slave to a flesh and blood human being – who will make you hers in ways even you haven't dreamed of, you little perv?"

"I…," I began to say, when she cut me off to continue her list.

"Third,… When you conclude that really you want me to own you, you're gonna write me a check for every last penny in your bank accounts – checking and savings – and you're gonna come back here."

"Then, because you'll have recharged, I'm gonna blow your brains out your dick again."

Chapter End Notes:
I'm setting this story as incomplete, but I do intend to make each chapter more or less stand on its own. That way, if I go away and don't continue it for a year or so, it's not out there just hanging. I will also update the tags as appropriate.
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