March 4, 2011

Craft Day

Posted in stories tagged at 2:44 am by littlesubmissions

She pursed her lips, frowned down at him, and forced her face into a one-sided scrunch, looking at him through a thumb held at arm’s length. “You might work.”

He blinked back at her, shifting his weight to his hands from his knees and back, wondering where this was going. Her sudden pronouncement that it was “CRAFT’S NIGHT BITCH!” could cover a lot of territory, but it had started with him wearing too many clothes, and was currently paused with him naked on hands and knees, and her making funny faces to try and get him to laugh. A snorted laugh finally came out as she warped her face into an exaggerated position of lust and stuck her tongue out, then laughed herself.

“Yeah, you might work.” She hopped up, and came back with a milk crate and a handful of rope. “Be still.” The milk crate was carefully set on the small of his back, and she threaded the rope through the holes in the sides, wrapping it around him and pulling it in tight, making loops and knots with small hands.

He looked back at her, watched her push the crate back and forth, forward and back, felt the rope pulling at his skin.

Satisfied, she stood up, and smirked down at him. “I think I’m going to like my new dildo caddy.” Her mouth hardened again, serious this time, thinking. “Of course, it’s a little too complicated right now. Come on, dildo caddy.” She grabbed his hair, dragged him into the bedroom with the rest of the sex toys, and pulled open a drawer.

He felt the thump of latex and plastic cocks falling into the milk crate, and shivered when she held the leash and collar up in front of him. “I can’t be expected to keep telling you where to go, now can I?” He whimpered and closed his eyes, felt himself getting distant, as she wrapped it around his neck, the weight pulling and tugging at him.

“And it doesn’t need to see, or hear does it?” She held up the mask, waiting for his agreement, waiting for that jolt of electricity when he participated in his degradation for her.

“No ma’am, it doesn’t.”

“Good boy.” She patted his head, played with his hair, and leaned down to whisper in his ear. “I’m going to leave your mouth, and if you get me hot enough I’ll use it to clean those cocks you’re carrying for so nicely for me. And if you’re very, very good, I’ll let you eat off the floor.”

He pulled in a hard, ragged breath, and nodded. “Thank you ma’am.”

She licked her lips carefully, and said the words quietly. “Tell me what you’re thanking me for?”

He swallowed hard, and shut his eyes, talking to her and trying not to think about the words. “For treating me like a toy. For having me haul around your sex toys. For making me eat off the floor like an animal.”

She felt the words thudding in her, reflected back and forth between them, and started to pull the hood down over his face, pausing as it reached his ears. “You’re welcome.”

And then it was darkness, except for the occasional pull of a leash.

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

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