Together Again (A Not So Romantic Lovestory) || Michael Jackson

29 - Miss Collins

Content Warning: (mild) BDSM bits. Read at your own risk. Or just skip.

Faye

Fame is the scentless sunflower, with gaudy crown of gold; But friendship is the breathing rose, with sweets in every fold.

My mind is repeating Oliver Wendell Holmes' words for numerous times now. 

I don't know... 

Maybe, it is appropriate for a certain scenario that I cannot grasp. It is too challenging. And fucked up.

I am just trying to concentrate on myself because my sense of sight was stolen from me.

All I can see is black.

All black.

Everything is black.

My breathings hitched as the outpouring pleasure reached my capillaries, to which, it is being exchange between my veins and arteries. 

My blood concentrated on my blushing cheeks too. The feeling is burning even though I am just here, still standing, while Michael is showering my body with his soft and light kisses and electrifying touches.

Michael stood behind me and my hands found his arms that are embracing my frame. With my blindfolds on, my skin became very sensitive to his every touch. Every brush of his skin against mine is making me reach the heightened feeling.

"Would you let me tie your hair?" 

His low voice, which is as deep as a pit of infinite, penetrated my alerted hearing.

"Yes..." I answered before gulping thickly.

"Yes what?"

"Sir." I murmured. That's the first thing that came up to my mind. 

Mr. Jackson sounds great too but I'm using that name on a daily basis.

"Yes, Sir. You can tie my hair."

"Sir? I like that." He groaned before kissing my ear shell. "Call me your Sir, baby."

"Yes, Sir." I repeated.

"But you're not my baby now. You're my slut. My little slut." He whispered, his lips is tickling my sensitive nerve endings. "Can I call you that? Little slut?"

"I think it's kinda rude, Sir." I said to him with all honesty. He can just punish me if he doesn't want my honesty.

I'm more than willing.

"You're right." He murmured. "What can you suggest then?"

"Baby. I like it when you call me baby, Sir." I whispered before chewing my bottom lip with the intention of bleeding.