Sometimes
My master sits on his chair and watches my punishment. He crosses his legs and lights his cigar, a sly grin on his lips. I’ve grown to like being punished by him.
Sometimes it only lasts for an hour, sometimes it’ll last for an entire day, and it’s always the same. I thought my body would get used to it by now, and some days it doesn’t respond the way that my master would like it to, but some days it does.
He wraps my hands with my own special belt. It’s the one he saw me looking at fondly the day we met at the department store. Somehow he knew that I couldn’t buy it for myself. Maybe it was my tattered jeans or the backpack that clued him into the fact that I was a poor college student. Either way, regardless of how he could tell, he bought it for me, and as he handed me my bag he handed me his business card.
“Come by my office. I have work for you.”
Those two sentences were all I had to go on, and as I had very little money, I thought that any work would be good. I was lucky for such an opportunity to fall into my lap. Lucky.
On days I work, he has me kneel on the ground and traces my lips with his soft fingers before binding my hands together with my belt. Then he traces the lines of my body from my jawline to my back, bending me forward. That’s all he ever does with his own hands. As I kneel, my elbows and knees beginning to get raw from the tatami mat, I hear the cap of the lube open and the turning on of a vibrator.
Without warning, he jams it into my ass. My hole is never ready for the thick, vibrating, plastic and neither is my prostate. The first few times I worked for him, I came right away, but that was only the first few times.
Once the vibrator is in, ones it’s rubbing against my prostate, he sits in his chair and watches. He watches and listens as I moan and cry out. Sometimes I try to move, to touch my throbbing cock that is itching for attention, but always reprimands me.
“Tell me when you need more than the toy, my pet.” He would say with his silky voice.
I told him, once, that I needed to be touched, and then he brought out his red whip. Sometimes he whips my cock gently, and sometimes he whips it hard. Sometimes he just traces the tip of my cock with the plastic tendrils.
I try to hate it, but sometimes I don’t.
Even though it sometimes takes hours for me to cum, even though sometimes the orgasms are more painful than pleasurable, even though my joints seize from being in the same position, and even though I’m kneeling in my own juices, I can’t always hate it.
Sometimes I just wish that my master would touch me himself. Sometimes I just wish that I could make him cum just once.
Sometimes.
Art by Lara Yokoshima on Pixiv
Words by cumonhardyaoiHot one shot! Awesome blog to check out too!
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