𝖂𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖎𝖋 𝕲𝖊𝖙𝖔 𝕴𝖘 𝖄𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 (𝖝 𝕱𝖊𝖒 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗)

♡ 6-1: ℭ𝔯𝔲𝔰𝔱𝔰 (𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 1)

❤︎ 999 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜, 4 𝚖𝚒𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎
❤︎ 𝙱𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐎𝐁𝐄 ⁎⁺˳✧༚ (ushijimasmeatrider) 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎!ヾ(｡✪ω✪｡)ｼ

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He pressed a vibrating teardrop into me. I shuddered from the viscosity of the lubricant he used. Evidently, Geto is not in the best of moods today.

For the past month or so since I moved into his house behind the temple, my training had consisted of the three simple commands he taught me on my first day: "follow," "kneel," and "stay." And after I had completed each command with ease, he would be ridiculously delighted, as if he were a cat person and myself his very first cat.

One could imagine my frustration upon having come home from a long, hard day at work–and an hour and a half of commuting, mind–to see my Master giddily demanding another session, only to find out we are repeating the three boring old commands.

It would be better if there could at least be something sexual about these training sessions to perhaps help blow off some steam. Apart from the first time where Geto touched me with his slippered feet, the most physical contact I could get out of him was his fingertips grazing my neck as he collared me, his nails scraping my scalp as he pulled my hair, and sprinkled kisses.

This was not what I expected after that reunion at his prayer hall.

And so, today, after I was down on the ground, when he kneeled himself to leash me, I abruptly pulled him in and gave him a deep kiss on his lips. 

I bit him on his lower lip when he pushed me away. When I looked up, he was bleeding.

"I'm sorry, Master... I didn't mean–"

He balled up his fist, not uttering a word.

"Get on the bed..."

"Master... I–"

"Now!"

I crawl onto the bed and lie down.

He walks towards me, takes my leash, then ties it around the headboard.

"I told you to listen, did I not?"

"Yes, Master..."

He flips me over.

"And just now, were you listening?

"...No, Master..."

He undresses my lower torso.

"Were you obeying?"

"No..."

He props me up on my knees.

"Were you being a good pet?

"No...sorry–"

With a crack, he hits me on my behind.

"Exactly. Good pets don't bite their owners, do they?"

"No...Sir."

From my periphery, I see him producing a bottle and a pink, teardrop-shaped object.

"What do bad pets need?"

I see him pouring thick, translucent liquid onto the teardrop.

"Tell me: What do bad pets need?"

He spreads some of the liquid around my entrance, as well.

"...Bad pets need... They..."

He didn't need to, I was already flowing.

"They need... I need discipline..." I stuttered and he pushed the vibrating pink into me.

I used to use one of these as well, sometimes on my own, other times with my then-partner– Now I can't think, my mind is as syrupy as what's between my legs. The sound of sex is the sound of stirring mac n cheese. Who told me that?–

Geto yanks my two arms backwards and I fall forward, tasting the sheets.

"You know, if what you are thinking of right now is someone else, then I just might get extra mad and tie you here forever."

He ties my wrists together, presumably with my underwear.

"I might just make you come til you're all shrivelled up and rotten. Would you like that?"

I nod. Then shake my head.

"But you don't deserve that today, pleasure's mine now."

He pulls me up by my hair and then pushes my face in between his legs. A warm, not-unpleasant musk.

I almost instinctively rubbed myself on the sheets but he stopped me short by thrusting into my mouth. He muffled the gasp that couldn't leave my throat.

"I thought I made it clear that your pleasure belongs to me."

Geto increases the frequency between my legs. I let out a whine, also muffled.

"That's it. Your voice, too, is for pleasing me."

He starts on an unexpectedly aggressive tempo. Both of us are jarred. Well, myself literally but he figuratively.

I look up at him. His lids are heavy as drops of his sweat fall to my face. He seems to be in a daze... and if I were to be completely honest, me too.

My eyes water as I feel tufts of his hair on my lips, then away.

As he swings back and forth, it's as if I am sitting in a puddle, sensing the sheet below me absorbing me.

He sighs a low sigh–I know he's close and I constrict my throat. His fingers claw at my hair.

Then, a warm gush.

It took him several seconds to pick up on his release. As if he didn't see it coming.

Geto then lets go of my hair and exits from my mouth. I look at him, glistening with my saliva.

He tucks himself back and then puts up a piece of tissue in front of my chin and I gaze up at him. The vibration is still happening in me. I feel sore.

"You don't have to," he says weakly.

I spit it out but the saltish taste still lingers on my tongue. He unties me and halts the vibrating.

"I want to see you take it out yourself."

And so I bend my elbow and reach my hand to my entrance. I pull it out by its thin cord and it comes out with a near imperceptible pop. Like a bubble bursting.

I didn't turn to see what face he was making when I took it out myself.

Geto comes back with a towel. He lies next to me, wiping me clean.

"Is the dinner later still happening?" I ask.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"Do your lips still hurt?"

I turn back and place a thumb on his lower lip. It's stopped bleeding and a dark red crust has formed.

He gently pulls my hand away but doesn't let go.

"How's your brother?" Geto asks.

"I haven't been seeing him lately."