Beastly

Three.

The way he's got his little chest puffed out he's as pleased as punch, but I'll have to keep that ego in check.  Pride is a sin don't you know!  Plus it doesn't work for me.  I'll tell him it was passable, that he needs to try harder and I'm the selfless one for allowing him lick me like a lollipop every day to practice.  Oh Hell yes, too smart for my own good.

He's looking up at me with big teddy bear eyes, drunk on lust like I'm an alcoholic beverage and he's been propping up a bar all night.  Drunk on me.  As it should be.

He even sounds fucked out, each word slurred but heavy with conviction.  "I can't believe it, the glow of your skin, like it's buzzing with energy."  He's pressing kisses, long, languid licks over my thighs as his fingertips tense into the skin there.

I look down at him and chuckle - he's got a lot to learn.  "That's because it is.  Indulging in sin gets me off, gives me power. Those pricks upstairs get all glowy when they do a good deed, like they're getting a fucking gold star from teacher.  With me it's the opposite." 

I shuffle back, a slick trail down his stomach to lean down inches from his face, taking a second to lick my juices from his glossy cheek.  "Who do you think is having the better time, Joshua?"

He shoots straight back.  "You.  No doubt, Master."  But then he takes me by surprise, reaching up and kissing me on the lips eagerly.  I recoil back like a spring after barely a touch.

I rarely kiss, I find it pointless.  Has anyone ever cum from kissing? No.  Then I don't need that shit, too cutesy.  Let me spit in your mouth or lick salty juices from your lips but smooching?  Save it. 

His expression changes to one of disappointment, fear creeping back wondering if he might have fucked it up already.

"What?"

"I thought I did well, that I'm yours now?"

I hoist myself off him, the black robe reappearing over me along with another cigarette as I pace the room.  Circle him like a vulture.  "Oh you're in, for now, but don't start thinking you can take liberties.  You're my toy, I'm not your girlfriend or some shit like that."

He nods, understanding and apologetic as he sits up, until his gaze focuses on something behind me and he's off again, sweeping wildly around the room and jaw dropping. I go to question what the Hell is wrong now before I remember.  Oh right - that.

When I orgasm things can get pretty...messy.  Up top I might get a few natural disasters going, or have some notable figure assassinated for funsies.  My personal favourite, and I mean there's no better analogy for a release than awakening a dormant volcano and causing chaos. Molten lava squirting uncontrollably, oozing like it's running down my legs.  Beautiful, destructive.  Dynamite, baby.

Down here at the business end of the operation it'll crank the dials up a notch, make all those wheels spin faster and get the recruits screaming extra loud.  They all just hate it when I'm having fun for some reason. 

But in here, in my little abode it gets bit more whimsical.  Items, decoration will start showing up on these plain walls, all fancy and detailed as my mind buzzes with the heightened pleasure.  Chandeliers, ornate wallpapers, decadent bits and bobs fit for a King, because duh!  A real mishmash of all the things I've taken a liking to over the centuries, and you'd best believe it looks fucking fantastic.

He's up and exploring now, padding his bare feet over the Grecian marble - underfloor heating as standard of course.  Each thing piques his interest like they're completely foreign objects, like he wasn't alive a day ago and surrounded by lights and chairs and a Venus de Milo.  Okay - maybe not all those things.