"Beads"
by Mychael Black
Master ordered me to wear beads today. They’re the smaller ones,
small enough to wear all day but still big enough that I never forget
they’re there. I’m trying to eat pizza, but it’s hard
to think about anything other than the spheres inside me. Every time I
move, every time I clench my asshole, the beads shift, the movement
maddening. I squeeze and release, almost rocking in my chair. God, I
want to come.
I look up and see Master watching me, not smiling but not frowning. He
looks…amused, in a way. He approaches me slowly and I
can’t help but watch the way his muscles move beneath his tanned
skin. From his black boots to the stern-set jaw, I want to lick and
taste, to worship every inch of his body I’m allowed.
Stopping in front of me, he smirks and reaches out to pinch one nipple.
I hiss and buck, my breath leaving me in a rush when he twists the nub
of flesh sharply between his thumb and forefinger. My cock throbs, the
ring around it biting into my sensitive flesh, keeping me hard and
needing. Master smiles fully and tilts my head back, bringing his lips
down onto mine in a possessing kiss.
I arch, desperate for his touch as his other hand moves down my
stomach. His fingers dance over heated flesh, then along the shaft to
pinch the tip closed. I scream into his mouth, caught between pleasure
and pain, nails digging into the arms of my chair. When he finally
releases my lips, I lick them and plead silently with him, begging him
to do whatever he wishes.
“And what does my slut want?” he asks, fingers sliding down.
(c) 2007 Mychael Black