Fetish

I spoke with a friend today,and we spoke about our loves, our needs, our fetishes.

I described a scene to him:

Your eyes, wide and begging and fearful and glazed with arousal.

Your lips, pink and round in an 'O' of wanting.

Your face drawn in fear and desire, your high cheekbones stark as bright spots of fear-color draw my avaricious eyes.

Your throat, bared to the blade and your body lifting convex from the bed and against my hands and my knife. Pressing yourself into the possibility of death with a mixture of sex and suicide.

Submissives speak of the confidence they have in their master, the gut knowledge that he'll never harm them.

You don't have that. You know I will harm you if the psychopath in the back of my brain slips her leash, for even a moment. You know that I want to let her, know that we can smell the blood beneath your skin and crave the taste of it on our lips and the stickiness on our hands that hold the blade.

But you arch into me, and into the blade, anyway.

That.

That suicidal desire.

That overarching need that doesn't care if it ends in death.

That is my fetish.

To be continued

He looked at me with his eyes wide, his lips making that cute little 'O' of surprise.

'But I thought you were still mad at me and didn't want sex?'

I smiled, or at least I bared my teeth. Sometimes, he can't tell the difference.

'I've changed my mind... sort of.'

That was when the first nervousness entered his eyes. The first vague concern, not quite real fear yet. 'So...'

'Shut up, bitch,' I cut him off.

He started a little and fell silent, his eyes getting wider. I'm usually extremely lenient, to the point of spoiling him. This tone, this attitude, was new.

'Get on your goddamned knees, boy,' I told him, and smiled inside as he scrambled to obey, wondering exactly what he'd gotten himself into.

I unzipped my jeans, freeing my cock- 8" of beautiful opalescent silicone- and smiled when he licked his lips.

I love owning whores.

'Suck me, slut.'

I didn't need to say anything else, he was already leaning forward, licking his lips and wrapping his hot little mouth around me. God he's pretty like this! His full lips wrapped around my cock, his whole body arching into every pull of his mouth and throat.

I stroke his head lightly, drawing his attention with the unexpectedly gentle touch. 'Make sure you get it good and wet, baby, because it's the only lube you're getting tonight.'

I watch his eyes widen and feel something like contentment as his efforts at swallowing me redouble.

Such a pretty little whore.

Abruptly, I'm done with it, done with being sucked, and all I want is to fuck him- deep and hard and fast until he whimper and squeals and begs because it's too much.... because it will be.