Spicy Short Stories

Fingers

I watch in confusion as you write my name on your fingers. The letters sprawling across your pointer and middle finger. Once down you get closer to me, pushing me down with a gentle yet persistent hand on my chest.

You've barely touched me, yet I can already feel my breath deepen as my heart rate picks up. Your lips press against my neck, and my collar bone, and my chest as you slide down the neckline of my shirt before taking it off completely.

I feel your hand trail over my thighs, my brain clouding over completely so I can't think. But I can still feel, and God do I. I feel your fingers trace designs all over my thighs, moving along the sensitive skin but staying firmly on the side. I can feel your hot breath on my neck as it becomes damp from the kisses and bites. I can feel the heat in my face as I start panting. But most of all I can feel the heat and wetness that floods between my thighs.

This teasing continues for what feels like forever, sporadic sayings of praise whispered in my ear. Finally, your hand drifts away from my thighs and dances lightly over the skin on my stomach, going down again but this time under the layers of clothing I still have on. All thoughts and descriptions leave my mind as the teasing finally comes to fruition.

You lift your head from my chest to meet my eyes, first taking in my disheveled appearance. My tangles hair, my wide eyes, my flushed cheeks, and my mouth open, panting with want as I stare up at you. You lean down, bringing your face close to my ear before whispering.

"So wet." You say lowly, "but I've barely touched you." The smugness is evident in your voice as your fingers glide through my wetness. Your fingers rub fast, dipping inside of me every once in a while, and I whimper softly in response, before the sensation is removed all together. You bring your fingers up and hold them in front of my face. I notice then that these are the fingers with my name written on them, though the ink is already smeared from my juices. I look to you in confusion, waiting for instruction and in response you lower your fingers to my lips, pushing them in gently.

"Suck." I vaguely hear you command, though I admit my mind isn't completely there to hear it.

I pull your fingers into my mouth, swirling my tongue around them and tasting the saltiness of my juices. I look up at you, you look adoring as you look down on me. Almost the way one would look at a child, demeaning, superior. You pull your fingers out and break eye contact to look at them, as if surveying my work, before a small frown adorns your face.

"Do these look clean to you?" You ask in harsh excitement. I shake my head no but that's not enough of an answer.

"Do these look clean to you?" You ask again, voice harsher this time. "When I ask something, I expect an answer pet."

"No sir." I reply after a moment of surveying your fingers. The only thing left on them is some smeared ink that was once my name, but I can tell you want than gone as well, that this was the whole point.

You push your fingers back into my mouth, more forceful this time as you make me gag around them, tears flooding my eyes. You continue to ram your fingers down my throat until tears freely flow down my face. At that point you remove your hand and grab my chin with it, my saliva smearing across my cheeks.

You lean in to kiss me hard, and bite my lip slowly as you pull away, the salty taste of my tears lingering.

"God, you look so pretty when you cry." You say, your voice low as you streak tears across my face.

At this moment you pause to survey your fingers, noticing the ink all gone from you skin. Then you lean in, softer this time, more rewarding.

"I knew you could do it, what a good boy." You whisper against my lips before kissing me again.