Pass the Popcorn, Please
‘A movie? Tonight? Sure, sounds grand.’ I’m not feeling great, but he seems so pleased so I didn’t like to say no. I know it’s vital to be open and honest, but on this one thing, it seems inconsequential, and I have wanted to see this film on the big screen.
We jump in the car and chatter back and forth on the way there, a fencing of words, flirting and not so subtle innuendo. It has always been this way for us. Wordplay is a big part of it all and we laugh back and forth as we parry and trust with our words. The automatic doors, of course, don’t open to regale our entry as if we were minor royalty. Instead, he reaches out and opens the door for me. He does it without thinking. It’s one of the things I find endearing.
As we enter the darkness of the cinema, I always get that thrill, that little bit of excitement as if I’m entering another realm. I let him lead the way. He keeps going up, higher and higher. I arch an eyebrow. He’s a middle of the middle type of guy. I’m guessing those seats were already sold as we only go a few rows behind where we’d usually sit.
The trailers play and we munch our way happily through our popcorn, cinema sweet. As we sit in the darkness, I lightly trace my fingers along the inside of his wrist. So, light and feathery. I feel something inside me clench and respond just to the feel of his body under my fingertips. I let my fingers stray farther, as i stoke back and forth along his forearm. The things those arms can do to me. My mind starts to wander from the movie. I‘m now hungry for something other than popcorn.
He must have heard the catch in my breathe as he takes the popcorn from between us and places it on the empty seat beside him. He raises up the armrest between us and he leans towards me. My fingertips continue to explore him. Gently up his arm, up over his shoulder and tickling his neck ever so slightly. I lean forward and shower little kisses on his neck and as I go to move away, I nibble and lick at his earlobe. I take a quick glance behind us. It seems no one has clocked us. All is well. I settle back in my seat, my attention returning to the movie momentarily.
As I settle in, I place my legs across his lap and run my fingers up and down his thighs. I can feel the muscles tense underneath my touch. I’m enjoying this. After a few minutes, I decide I’ll push my luck. My fingers trail higher. It becomes immediately apparent that my light touches are having an effect. I feel his cock, hard and ready under his trousers. I take my legs down off his lap as I swallow a self satisfied chuckle and continue my ministrations. I can feel his cock jump up towards my hand, pushing and straining against his clothing. I lick my lips. So seldom do I get the jump on him. I’m savouring the moment.
I sit forward slightly, slide my hand higher and pop the button at his waistband and slide down the zip. I reach inside down inside and feel the warmth and hardness of his cock. I can’t stop myself, I grab the knob of his cock and gently tease the tip I run a fingertip just around the top. Feel his cock bob towards me. A small laugh sneaks out, as I love seeing the effect I can have on him. I can see the little drop of pre-cum sitting there, so close. I whisper loudly, ’excuse me, I’m just going to grab the popcorn.’ I reach across and as I do so, my mouth sneaks down and sucks the tip clean, running my tongue around the knob, just for good measure. I can feel the jump inside my mouth. I love the taste, the feel, the silkiness of his flesh combined with that slightly salty taste. I pull my mouth away and settle the popcorn in my lap, as my hand reaches back, pulls down the elastic band of his underwear and release him to the cool air of the theatre. I begin to slide my hand slowly down to the base of his cock and then wrap and twist my wrist on the way back up. I can’t quite get to all of him, but I suspect this should suffice. Slowly again. Tantalizing. Teasing. I loosen my grip, turn over my hand and scrape my nails across the sensitive exposed skin. I feel him sinking deeper into his seat as his legs go wider.
I peek over my shoulder at the couples that are seated in the rows around us. They don’t seem to notice, or if they do, they don’t seem bothered. It just adds to the fun. I grasp him firmly and start a slow rhythm down and up, pulling slightly, increasing my grasp, moving just that little bit faster. i can feel his legs bounce as his feet start bouncing against the floor. I speed up, moving my wrist around to get to the sensitive back of his cock. I go even faster. I can see him holding his composure, but I know he can’t be far off now. ‘Thanks for the popcorn,’ I stage whisper again, and lean across his lap. I place the popcorn in the empty seat next to him and lower my mouth. I take him in my mouth. I run my tongue all the way around and so slowly, run my mouth down the length of him until I can go no further due to the confinement of his trousers. I laugh with him inside my mouth. I hear him grind his teeth. I breathe in, increasing the suction on his cock. I lock up and down first on one side, then on the other, all the while keeping the suction strong. I let my tongue lazily wrap itself around him, then as I pull my mouth up, flick the lip between his cock and his knob. I feel fingers tangle in my hair, trying to shove me back down, but for this once, I’m in control. I push back, refusing to let him dictate the pace. This time I bob quickly, as far as I can and then back up again, fast as a shot. The fingers in my hair increase their pressure. Two more quick trips down until I languidly pull my mouth back up and torment his knob some more, licking in lazy circles all the way around all the while running my nails down and back up the shaft. I hear it then, half growl, half command, ‘slave’. I can hear his desire His want. I have done this. I can arouse him like this. The sheer happiness of that knowledge causes me to smile, inadvertently scraping his cock with my teeth. His thigh muscles tense under me. I can’t resist any longer, I slide my mouth down his cock until I can feel him, deep within my mouth and back up again. I increase the speed with each stroke of my mouth. My tongue shooting around constantly. My pace is more frenzied now. I want to taste him shoot into the back of my mouth. I want to feel his cum shoot down my throat. I try not to let my hunger become too noisy as I go faster and faster up and down his cock, loving every minute of it. The fingers clench in my hair, shove my head all the way down and I can feel his pleasure slamming into the back of my mouth and then sliding down my throat. Just what I wanted.
As he finishes, I lick off every last drop, I tuck his cock back into his underpants and zip up his trousers. I leave the button to him, they are not my strong suit. I lean towards his ear and whisper, ‘I love a good snack when I watch a movie.’ I chuckle and settle back and once again prop my legs across his.
‘So I noticed,’ he replies wryly. I return my attention to the screen and pick up the storyline again. It’s not tricky. It’s relatively straight forward. I’m feeling very pleased with myself. As his hand rests upon my knee, I smile to myself and then up at him. He arches an eyebrow and gives me that slight smirk I’ve come to know so well. He grabs the popcorn tub and hands it to me. ‘Can you hang onto that for me?’ he asks. I take it in my hand, a little puzzled, but presume he may be off to the loo to help reorganise anything that isn’t quite back to where it should be. I go to move my legs away, but he holds on tight. I tilt my head to the side in a half shrug and let my attention return to the scenes on the screen ahead of me.
Then I feel it. Slight at first, and I realise what’s happening and I fight back the urge to swear under my breath. I feel his fingers slide up the leg of my shorts. He doesn’t waste time and makes quick work of my underpants as he pushes them aside and slides his fingers straight inside of me with no warning at all. I feel my muscles clench around his fingers. They slid in so easily as I was already wet from the pleasure of sucking cock. It has always made me wet. I can feel his fingers there, just wiggly back and forth inside of me. My thighs muscles tense. Oh. This is so not going to be good. He may have the ability to come almost silently but that is not a skill I possess. Right now, it’s just teasing, but even that is starting to drive me crazy. He leans over and whispers in my ear. ‘My dear slut, your challenge is to not come before the end of the movie, unless I tell you otherwise.’ I tightly nod my head.
Why would I think he’d play fair? He left his fingers there inside of me, just teasing, taunting me, making me wetter. Just when I thought I could adjust to holding back the urge from those fingers, he slid them slowly, painfully slowly, all the way in as deep as he could go. A slight wiggle, then oh so slowly back until just the tips of his fingers were just barely inside of me. His thumb brushes across my clit. I grit my teeth and will the sensation back. Try to push the desire down. As I feel my breathing start to even out. He slams his fingers hard inside of me, once, twice, three times and then rests them again to gently stroke my inner walls. I take a deep breath in and count to ten. ‘Was that you asking for ten, slut?’ he asks quietly. My head shakes vigorously back and forth. ‘I’m sure that’s what you said,’ he chuckles and starting slowly, but increasing in speed after every number I count in my head. 1,2,3…each time faster, after number five, he pauses for a moment and adds a third finger to the two already fucking me. 8,9,10. I am so grateful I was able to hold off. I’m not sure I can again. If he does it. If he pumps me even harder, or faster will I be able to stave off the orgasm I feel building inside of me? I think it unlikely. I try to focus on the movie. Anything to pull me away from my body. I can feel my brows furrow in concentration. Trying my best to shut down my overwhelming desire to come, I drive my nails into the palms of my hands. I want to please him, but I want to come. How dang long is this movie anyways? I have zero idea where we are in the plot line. How much time has gone past. Just as I think I’m back into the world around me, he pumps his fingers a few times, just to remind me. Like I could forget? Like I could pretend I couldn’t feel him there, penetrating me? Each time, I could feel my body getting used to his fingera there, he’d move them again, my muscles tightening around him, trying to draw him in, take me hard and fast. I close my eyes. My legs start to shake. I am oblivious to the world around me. My whole being has come down to focus only on that desire, my need, my want. I can’t hold off much longer. There they are, pumping again. Will this moving never end?
Almost as if on que, the end credits start to roll, I feel sheer relief as I think I can finally come now. In a heartbeat of a second, he slides his fingers out of me, and presents them to my mouth. I feel so utterly empty now. I can feel my muscles searching for something to clamp around. I open my mouth and suck his fingers clean of every drop of me, but the scent is still there. I can smell me in the air. The realisation hits. Those people around us must be able to smell me too. I lower my head in mortification. Please don’t make eye contact. Don’t look around, just let me go without having to actually see the faces around me. My forehead is covered in a sheen of sweat, even though the cinema is air conditione. My legs twitch back and forth. I am So hungry, I want any and all holes filled. I just want to be fucked into oblivion. He puts his hand under my chin and raises my head until my eyes meet his. ‘Pass the popcorn, please,’ he smiles and grabs my hand as we walk out of the cinema.
One Star Review
I started writing a novel. I write roughly 800 words a day. It's slow going, and I have to wonder if the burn is too slow - if when we recount stories, ones we'd like to tell others, the candle actually burns in the other direction.
I have to wonder if my novel will get a one star review. If at the end of the day, the novel is for the audience, and not for the author themselves - but is surviving - writing prose that feeds some internal flame, living to see another day - for ourselves, or is it for others?
What if my novel never fills the void? Where does candle smoke go when there's no oxygen to even feed the flame; if a writer writes a novel and no one reads it, did it exist? Where does it go to make itself known?
This is already too abstract, and short, because I'm shot. I'm glad I'm embarking on this journey, but at what emotional cost? In the words of poet and writer Ocean Vuong, in his second-to-last Instagram post (because I'm not stalking him or anything), he says that he has completed his second novel - and that it took something from him that he may never get back.
Here's to leaving it all behind, to never getting back the pain, and the trauma, and instead making our stories of survival ones of hope, of our inner turmoil's flames going in one direction: skyward, where we can see the smoke spell out our dreams.
Lazy days
I look up and a smile spreads across my face. ‘Hey’. With that, my smile gets a little bit wider. I can’t help it, I can feel that desire brewing inside of me. Some days, it’s just up to you to make the most of it.
He’s busy, but that’s okay. I don’t mind. I walk barefoot across the room. The sounds of his computer keys muffling any other sound. I lean down and lightly kiss his neck, I move a little lower, and press my lips to his throat. I can feel him swallow. He tries to give me that look. Not today. I move around to the other side of his neck and leave a trail of kisses as I then take his ear, lightly, teasingly in between my teeth. I tug ever so gently. I flick my tongue over his ear lobe. I look down at his lap and can tell by the results there that my attention is not entirely unwelcome.
I slide down to the floor and climb under his desk. I push his chair that slightest bit away and nudge my head up between his legs. I raise my eyes and smile again. I rub my face against the growing lump of his cock under his trousers. I close my eyes and I remember just how nice that cock feels sliding into my mouth. I can feel myself start to salivate.
I reach my arms up and run my hands up his chest, feeling him just underneath the material of his shirt causes my heart speed up. I start with the top button, and undo it deftly. Then the next button. Oops, did my hand accidentally glide over your crotch. I can feel my hunger start to grow. I shake my head and refocus my thoughts. My hands are a little less certain as I undo the next button. Slowly, so slowly, I undo each one in turn. I push his chair a little further away from his desk. I can still hear his typing, but I imagine that it has slowed a bit.
I rest my elbows on his thighs and slide my hands up his chest and push His shirt down his shoulders. His arms are slightly restricted, but I don’t doubt that if he wanted to stop me, he would. I start at the base of his throat and slowly leave a trail of light kisses down his chest. My mouth moves to the side, seeking out his nipple. I hold it in place tenderly between my teeth as I start to flick my tongue back and forth and I am rewarded by the hardening I can feel in my mouth. I can’t help myself. I bite down hard and I start lashing his nipple with my tongue, then biting down that little bit more and sucking it into my mouth. I smile as I pull back. His typing is most assuredly going more slowly than before. I rain a small shower of kisses across his chest as I make my way to his other nipple. This time, I’m not so kind. I grab his nipple tightly between my teeth and twist. I feel his body jerk momentarily, before the clacking of the keys begins again. I run my tongue around and around his nipple. Flicking first hard then light. I chuckle while I still hold it there. I bite down again and then release as I begin to move down his chest moving lower and lower.
As I reach his waistband, I glide my tongue just along the top of his trousers. I lower my head. First, I run my right cheek up the length of him and then run my left cheek down the other side. I can’t help myself. I run my tongue over His trousers, feeling his cock jump at the feel of my mouth.
I reach up and undo the button on his trousers. Then I grip the zipper and take all the time in the world to slowly pull it down tooth by tooth. I can see his cock there, peeking out of the top of his pants. I feel my hunger kick into overdrive. I slide my hands down his hips, trying to get access. I glance up. He’s watching me, Almost challenging me. I rise up just slightly and take the knob, just barely visible, and take it in my mouth. My nose nudges away the waistband. I increase the suction as I pull and tug at him. Wanting more. I lap at him. Tongue slathering what little I can see. Tasting him is always so damn good. I reach between his legs and start to massage his balls between my fingers. A catch a small sound coming from his mouth. Was that a groan? A curse? I can’t be certain, but his feet plant down hard as he lifts his hips from the chair. Without missing a beat, I grab the waistbands and shuck them down his legs.
I dip my head and take his balls into my mouth. I pull back gently, feeling them stretch and then relieving the pressure as I massage his balls around my mouth. With my mouth full, I pause for the slightest of moments as I take a deep breath. Smelling him, his arousal, his sexuality. It makes my head hum. I reach up with my hand and grasp the shaft of his cock, letting my hand increase its pressure along the back of his cock. Regretfull, I remove my mouth from his balls and finally get to take the full length of his rock hard cock into my mouth. This time, I’m pretty sure the sound came from my lips, not his.
I slide my head all the way down, feeling it hit the back of my throat. Painstakingly slowly, I pull my mouth up and down on him all the while keeping his balls in my hand, manipulating and Massaging them almost absently. As my head slides up his cock again, I scrape my teeth along the back of his cock. I hear a hand slam down on the table and can’t help but smile, but I don’t let my suction decrease. Faster and faster, my head bobs up and down over his lap. I feel a hand grab my hair and force his cock deeper than I thought I could take it. That’s right. Use your fuckhole, please, Sir. I wrap my tongue around the shaft as my head pulls its way back up, only to feel you slam your cock hard into my throat. I can’t help it. A frenzy takes me over. I clamp down and use all the suction I can muster as my tongue flies all over your cock. It so thick and solid and tastes so good. Oh the taste of your pre-cum, just sets me flying. Up and down at breakneck speed. I suck you in. Lash you with my tongue and then pull almost completely back, only to dodge back down again. Hungry for more. The taste, the smell, the pleasure mounting in me as well as in you. My actions become frenzied. I can feel my own wetness soaking through my pants but all I can really focus on is just how much I love having your cock in my mouth. I bob down on one side to then only pull back against the other side. I feel your muscles start to tense. I hear that mutter under your breath. i can tell you’re close and all that does it ratchet my desire up. move my mouth all around your cock, my mouth going one while while my tongue wraps and latches and releases. Not long now. I slow down to try to savour you, but you’re having none of it. You put both hands in my hair and starting mercilessly fucking my mouth. I try my best to keep up but am not always successful. Before I realise, your cum shoots down the back of my throat and I swallow as quickly as I can. I feel your legs unclench and slowly let your spent cock slide back out of my mouth.
I crawl out from under the desk. I look in your direction, walk across the room the residual taste of you dominating all of my thoughts.
I sit up on the sofa, pick up my book and proceed to read. I like lazy days.
Lone Star
I self-published my book. Waited nervously as it gathered internet dust for a few weeks. I made a new email account. Posted a scathing one-star review. Took to Facebook, Instagram and X (but this was when it was still twitter) with my fake review, tearfully lamented this denigration of my life's work. Friends, family and acquaintances all became keyboard warriors in my defense.
I sat back and watched social media work its magic. My lone star quickly multiplied until I averaged that top tier 5-star rating. Purchases were made, first out of pity and then (I'm hoping!) as a recommended read.
Names I didn't recognize began to show up. I was trending. A complimentary review appeared on a blog, then a few more, next I was invited to a podcast. Publishers started to show interest. Someone started a fan page (no, it wasn't me).
The crazy part? That review I wrote was everything I was scared was true about my book. Was it deceitful, what I did? I mean, if that review were true, surely the buzz would have withered and died by now. But still, I feel like a castle built on a lie can be nothing but corrupt.
Do I care?
Consequences
True. He didn’t say I could. But I certainly know he didn’t say I couldn’t. I mean, c’mon, it’s been at least three days since my last orgasm. What’s a girl to do? I waiver for just a moment. Consequences. The unwelcome word brushes against my mind. I smirk and then a broad smile breaks across my face.
I lick my lips as my hunger rises. I open my knees and spread my legs wide. This one, this one I’m going to enjoy. As soon as the decision was made in my mind, I could feel my wetness start to grow. I take one finger and dip it into my hungry cunt, and let it linger for the briefest of moments before pulling it back out again. I raise my finger up to my nose and breathe in deeply. The smell of myself only serves to increase my hunger. I pop my finger into my mouth and slowly suck down the length of it as I then lick my wetness away.
I slip my finger down to my cunt and gently trace around my lips, feeling the wetness increase. My other hand sneaks inside the side of my basketball jersey and find my nipple there. Slowly, I flick my nipple with my finger and feel it begin to harden. I grab my nipple between my finger and thumb. I pinch down hard and twist my nipple while at the same time, shoving my finger into my cunt. I moan as my arousal spikes. That’s just what I like. Some pain to help bring the pleasure into focus.
I slide another finger in and start pumping. I can feel my desire mounting. My body is so hungry. I brace my heels against the footstool as my hips raise up out of the chair. I hear a voice inside my head, ‘you like that don’t you? You love fucking your own pussy. To sit there and fuck the air. What a hungry little slut you are.’
I answer into the empty room, ‘yes, I do, I know exactly how I like it. Just like that,’ I say as I pull my fingers out of my cunt and slap down hard on my pussy. A moan of pure pleasure sneaks out of me. ‘More,’ I beg. Again my hand rises into the air and cuts through the air as it slaps down hard. ‘Yes, please, again,’ I beg myself. I raise my hand up into the air and prepare to feel it come lashing down when all the sudden a quiet, tinny ping echoes around the room. I grit my teeth and mutter under my breath. Buzzing through my brain, trying to bombard its way through my pleasure is only one thought. Please don’t let it be him.
I glance over at my phone. The message is crystal clear. ‘What are you doing?’ At the back of my head, a voice is screeching at me. No, no, no, no, NO! I let go of my nipple and try to slow my rampant breathing. I close my eyes and try to focus, to think clearly. After all, he doesn’t know anything. He can’t see me. My heart rate slows and I wipe my finger on my leg and pick up my phone.
‘Ummmmmm, nothing?’ I respond. Oh yeah, that was smooth. I can almost hear his voice through the screen. He might not know, but with something as vague as that, he will definitely know something. When will my brain ever learn that you don’t have to put in a text exactly what your mouth might say in the same situation.
Another ping. ‘That surprises me. Are you sure you’re not up to anything? After all, it has been three looooong days. Has it not? So, you wouldn’t be, say, fingering yourself? Or maybe have clothespegs clamped to your nipples?’ I glance to the clothespegs on the shelf next to me. ‘How unlike my very hungry slave. I would have thought you’d be doing at least playing with your clit, but if you’re telling me that you’re doing nothing, then surely that must be precisely what you are doing. Is that not correct, slave?’
I grit my teeth. Fuck! I sigh and pick up my phone. My fingers fly across the keys. ‘Okay, maybe not nothing. Maybe, just maybe, I had a couple of fingers shoved in deep as I was preparing to clamp my nipples. But! I had only just started, and you know, you didn’t tell me that I couldn’t and I know you’ve been busy and so much on your plate and I didn’t want to bother you to ask if I could. I thought it’d be better if I took things into my own hands and just let you get on with it. Ummmm, Sir?’ I roll my eyes at myself.
’Whose cunt is that? I don’t believe that is yours. As a matter of fact, I happen to know it is mine and not yours. You wouldn’t be playing with something of mine without permission, would you? Because, you know, that would just be foolish. Now, I ask you again, what are you doing?’
Crap. This is not going to be good. I type in, I was playing with your cunt, Sir. I shake my head at myself. You knew. Of course I knew. I should have asked, but I didn’t and now, there were going to be consequences.
Tell me, slut, do you remember early in our acquaintance when you were at my home? We all decided to journey to a friend‘s house for a gathering of fun? We made our way to one of the rooms and I reminded you that you were mine. I told you to look around the room and name anything at all that you could see. Anything that you named, I could use as an implement to bring pleasure or indeed, punishment. Do you remember what I did with the stapler you’d selected. You never looked at staplers the same way again, I’d wager. So, slut, look around the room and tell me what you can see.
I look around the small room. ’Well, Sir, there’s the television, my bookcase full of books, my exercise bike, my wet suit, my cricket bat, my blanket, a pillow, and my mug. That’s it.’ I keep my eyes on the three little dots at the bottom of the screen. I hold my breath, but I suspect I know what’s coming.
‘Whore. You’re going to need to stand up.’ I stand up. ‘Now, I know, that as you were playing with my cunt, you will be pretty soaking wet. So, I need you to pick up that cricket bat, and I want you to insert the handle of that bat into that wet cunt.’ I reach over and grab the cricket bat. I spread my legs and slide the handle up inside of me. My legs uncomfortably bowed out from the width of the blade. I feel pulled apart and uncomfortable, but it still feels good. I feel the urge to start pushing the bat deeper. Before I get into any more trouble, I grab my phone, ‘It’s in, Sir’.
’Good girl. Now, what I want you to do is put the tip of the bat to the ground. Once the tip is resting on the ground, I want you to lower yourself down deeper on the handle to the point where your legs are spread wide, the handle is deep inside of you, and it is merely this stance which keeps the bat standing up. I rest the bat as instructed and I begin to slowly lower myself down the length of the handle. My feet are on tiptoes but my body gives me away. I can feel the wetness beginning to encase the handle. ’Now, bitch, don’t move. I know you will want to grind, you will want to ride that handle and pump up and down on it until you cum. I’m not sure I’ll let you do that. It depends on just how good you are now. So, for the next five minutes, I want you to stay in that position. No sliding up and down, no clamping your muscles down, nothing other than feeling violated by the bat. Because that’s what you did. You violated what belongs to me.
I respond back, ‘yes, Sir’. I know this is going to be hard. The first thing to try to give in is that my body wants to slide up and down the length of the handle. I just want to bury it deeper. I want to shove it all the way in, to feel it slam into the back of me. Part of me wonders if it would be more like a cock or would it feel more like being fisted. I don’t really care which. I just want to cum. I bite back the urge and look at the clock. Are you kidding me? Not even a minute has gone by. Okay, this may be a lot harder than I thought. I try to take deep breaths but with each breath, I can feel the bat inside me. Oh hell. Next my muscles start trying to clench. If my legs aren’t going to drive the bay in, then my muscles seem convinced that they are going to suck them in deeper. I clamp my teeth down and try to get my muscles to hold on tight but not to clench and unclench. I take a side glance at the clock. Two minutes down. I don’t even realise it until I catch my reflection in the television screen. My hips are rolling and causing the bay to move around in a circular motion inside of me. I groan as I try to make my hips stop. In the end, I have to place My hands on my hips to get them to stop. What is the stupid time? Had that clock stopped? There’s no way that’s only three minutes. I can now feel my wetness running down the shaft of the handle. The whole room smells of me.
I grab my phone. Just that small motion had me trying to pump and grind with the bat Inside me. ’Please, Sir, I’m sorry. I really am, but I desperately need to fuck this bat. my whole body wants it. To shove it deep inside of me, to slide up and down feeling the handle sliding in deeper and then pulling back out. I want to fuck fast and hard and make myself scream. Please, Sir, May I?’
‘I count that as only three and a half minutes, slut. What I need you to do right now is take a selfie. I want to see a picture of you fucking your cricket bat. I want to see that desire in your face, the hunger in every taught muscle in your body. I want you to know it’s up to me when you cum, when you feel release, or indeed if you do at all.’
This then is the punishment. It was all working up to this moment. I can’t. I really really can‘t. My body screams at me that I damn well better because it is not going to be denied because of my stupid pride. The internal debate rages inside of me. It’s one thing for him to see me like this, another for him to have a permanent reminder of my desperation. As I feel my need rise, I snatch my phone and snap the picture and send it on its way.
‘What a good little whore. Remember, you’re the one who wanted to cum. Next time, maybe you’ll think twice before doing so without asking me. Now, we’re nearly done here, but not quite. You may now pump and grind and slam your pussy on that handle as much as you like, but you will record the sound as you do so. I want you to hear every sound of your hunger.’
Bastard! Thank goodness he’s only on the phone, but really, I don’t think I could hold out any longer anyway. I hit the record button on my phone and instantly I start sliding up and down. A groan escapes me. That is so deep. So fucking deep and so hard. Feel it there. Feel my thighs burn as they squat up and down taking the handle in deeper. Faster I slide up and down. It feels so good. So damn good. My pace becomes frenzied as my hips get in on the action. I hear the sound of the wetness squelching, the slight pop of the suction each time I drive myself up and then down. Oh my cunt. It’s so full and so wet.i pump don harder and faster. ’C’mon bitch, f it, fuck it you dirty little whore. You like doing that don’t you. You’re loving this fucking bat in your pussy. Keep going. Slam it deep. Oooooh!!! Fuck me! Oh! Yes! Yes please! Fuck me! I beg you! Fuck it hard. Slide that dirty little cunt all the way down until you feel like that handles going to pop out through your mouth you dirty, hungry, horny, desperate little whore! A scream tears out of my throat as my orgasm rocks through me. It goes on and on. Oh thank you. Thank you so much. Thank you. Oh yes. Yes. Thank you. Gradually, my breathing slows, my body stops thrashing, I fall back across the footstool and gently, oh so gently, pull the cricket bat out of my cunt. I close my eyes and fall back.
I don’t know how much time has passed when my eyes next open. I reach for my phone. I know what I need to do. I listen to the sound recording. I had no idea. None at all that all of those things weren’t running through my head. I was telling them out at myself. This is going to be more mortifying than I thought. First the picture, and now this. I shake my head and hit send. I sit there, still recovering when an answering ping catches my attention a few minutes later. I look down at the screen.
‘Whose cunt it that?’ I respond back with a single word.
Yours.
When not serving is serving
I know. My own doing. I just had to let my mouth keep running after a day that had not gone to plan. And now? Silence. The absence of anything clanging more loudly than cymbals in my ears. I sigh and shake my head at myself. I mean, really, what did I expect?
I stand up, clear my throat lightly, hoping he will see me. Or choose to see me. ‘How did I get so busy?‘ he says. Even those words cause hope to rise within my heart. I daren‘t say a word. I don’t want to let my guilt and my mouth to get in between us again.
I slowly reach down and grab the bottom of my hoodie and pull it up and over my head. I drop it to the floor beside me. The quiet is so complete that I can hear it hit the floor. I lick my lips, and reach down again to my waist. I grab the hem of my t-shirt and lift it up and over my head and drop it on top of my hoodie. I feel exposed. He knows this is one of the things I find harder than any other. To simply bare myself with no other distraction, with all eyes on me.
I take a deep breath, and grab the waistband of my shorts. I slide them down my legs and step out of them. I force my arms to stay still, to not come up and cover myself. I can feel the muscles in my arms twitching want to move, but I use all my will not to let them.
‘May I come to you, Sir? May I come sit by your side?’ He tells me that I may. I lower down to all fours, and I make my way towards him. I can feel the weight of my breasts as they swing back and forth. So awkward. I slam down my mind on those thoughts. All of this is self imposed. He may or may not be disappointed in me, but I am. I doubted him. One of the few people that I know I can trust absolutely and I doubted I was worth anything to him.
He is busy writing. It’s been a productive day for him. I lean down, kiss each of his feet, then kneel down, and sit back on my heels. I lower my eyes, and I wait. I still feel the absence of him. I want to babble, to explain myself, to defend myself, but I don’t. I don’t want to disrupt him when the writing is going well.
I breathe deeply and steady myself. The mantra in my head begins, ‘waiting IS serving, waiting IS serving’. I know I’m trying to convince myself. Being still is an absolute weakness of mine. I cannot do it well. For him, I’ll try. I feel an excuse to talk to him welling up inside of me. I shake it off with a shake of my head. Deep breath. Again. ‘Waiting is serving. Waiting is serving.’ He has told me this before, but I am not great at passive serving. Want me to entertain your best friend? I’m in. Wish me to please your wife. I’m there for you. Serve someone to show others what service can look like? Happily all day long. But sit? Be quiet? Be still? Wait? Every part of me rails against it. I cannot stand it I find it harder than many other things he may have asked of me in the past, and he hasn’t even asked this of me. I have.
How long has passed? I don’t know. Every moment feels as if it’s stretched thin until every last second is wrung from it. My knees are starting to ache. Still, I persist. ‘Waiting is serving. Waiting is serving.’ It doesn’t feel so angry this time. It feels quieter in my mind as it slowly glides through. I feel calmer.
Quietly, the words sneak out of my mouth. ‘Sir, my knees are sore, May I change my position, please?’ From far away, I hear you tell me I may. I feel wrapped in cotton. Words sliding through to me. I shift and merely sit by your feet. Quieter now, it floats through my mind, ‘waiting is serving, waiting is serving.’
I shake my head. How much time has gone by? I’ve no idea. He works still. A smile quirks at the corner of my lips. I feel I’m pleasing him by not disrupting. Still, I have a small request. Surely, he won’t mind a small request? ‘Sir, May I please lean my head against your knee? The physical touch will help reassure me.’ I don’t think he realises how much I felt I might have lost him, pushed him away. He tells me I may.
A soft satisfied sigh escapes my lips as I lean my head against his leg. I close my eyes. I can feel the smile stretching across my lips. This feels so good, so right. The thought sneaks through, ‘waiting is serving’. I wait. I shut out all else. I listen for his breath. I breath deeply in hopes of taking in the smell of him and remembering. From time to time, I feel a slight pressure on my head as his hand absently comes down to rest upon me. Each time, I smile again. To feel that touch, that acknowledgement of what I am offering him. The knowledge that he knows I’m there.
My eyes start drifting shut and each time, it’s longer and longer before they open again. I whisper quietly, my voice has gone hoarse. ’Sir, I am very tired. I will need to sleep soon.’
‘Of course,’ he says. He continues to work, but I feel the back of his fingers brush lightly against my cheek. He is pleased, I think. With that thought, I curl up on the floor next to his feet. I tuck my arm under my head and I promptly fall off to sleep.
He moves. I uncurl my body, and stretch. I know that look in his eyes. He is pleased. I’ve done well, but more than that, I’ve done well which has enabled him to do the work he needed to do. I lean down, and place a single kiss on each foot and then raise my head and smile at him. ‘Good morning, Sir.’ He smiles back.
It would seem that waiting is serving.
Hot tramp, polite Canadians, indigestion of a comet, and beating the Devil.
Sucked up into his mind, episode 28 rolls in with a quote by David Bowie, and then into a trio of talent not to be missed. LARGE leads the show, into the area of a man, and a deal in Vegas with the fellow below wraps the day. Grab your coffee, and stay a few.
Here's the link to Prose. Radio:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aV62yeSdsLg
And here are the pieces featured.
https://www.theprose.com/post/813671/beyond-remembering
https://www.theprose.com/post/813712/when-is-the-art
https://www.theprose.com/post/813613/the-deal
And.
As always...
Thank you for being here.
-The Prose. team