Carter's so fragile, but he needs to learn. He can't ever insult me like that ever again. He does that in front of people sometimes, says the one thing that's out the way, but not enough for people to question. He'll tell me to fuck off in a joking manner then slap me on the shoulder, but he knows that I don't care how invalid the instance is. I'll just make him cry. Sometimes I hate that aspect of myself. Though, I just can't help but think about that addicting control. It's almost concerning of how frequently that goes through my mind.
The car ride was silent. He knows exactly what he's doing. He never regrets it as much as I wish he did. He always liked being treated like a whore. I look over at him in the passenger seat and he's wearing that stupid belligerent smug look he has when he figures he's gotten me angry enough to grant him that satisfaction of being controlled.
Upon reaching the house, I took notice of the absolute silence blanketing the atmosphere. It hasn't been silent all week. I could almost feel the pint up emotions suppressing themselves so far down that they're almost nonexistent.
I want it to stay like this.
I grab a book and forget all of about that cynicism that constantly ails me.
But Carter could never deal with not having attention, whether it was negative or not. He stomped his feet firmly against the ground trying to elicit something that looked like attention from me. I didn't grant that attention.
He whines a lot when he doesn't get attention, not even words just periodic mewls loud enough to distract me. He's breaking the fucking silence.
"Please, miss." He begs. He dropped to his knees in front of me and laid his head on my thigh. Seeing his flushed face eager for control did something to me,but again; I wasn't going to grant him the satisfaction. His hands glide down between his legs and he begins to massage himself through his skirt. He knows he shouldn't be, but he doesn't care.
He spreads his legs open for me trying to get my attention. He begins to moan so fucking loudly. I just need silence.
"Be quiet, love."
I said, simply. It was the nonchalant manner in which I was addressing him that made him all huffy, but I didn't care.
He straddles my waist and his little skirt rides up on his thighs. I never knew why this turned me on so much, boys in skirts. This time I look at him.
"This is your warning." I say putting down my book. I wasn't having it, not today.
I could feel my previous anxieties about my job rising up back into fruition. That bitch from work told me that the market analytics project that I lead wasn't reliable because some bullshit reason. The whole fucking survey, I had to conduct again this whole fucking week. My brother was hogging up my phone line, of course, begging for money. Carter has been bitching about the water pressure needing to be fixed. I just want quiet. It's moments like these that I snap. It always comes so slowly,it crawls up my neck and through my voice, though I don't mean to yell.
I turn my attention to him. He's got his fingers in his mouth while his other hand pleasures himself; he's looking at me with doe eyes again. Worst of all, he's moaning so high pitched and loud. God, he sounds like a cheap whore.
My unhealthy infatuation with control dawns on me so quickly. His heavy lip gloss is smeared, his skirt hung loosely on his petit frame, and his body was all flushed and sweaty.
"Are you angry with me?"
Carter teasingly moans.
I don't answer him. Instead, I just drew my hand back. My hand collided with the side of his face so quickly, leaving a reddish imprint. He gasps then shuts up almost instantly.
I get up from my seat and head for our cabinet of things.
I pulled out my hot pink strap on.
Gotta love the psychology of anger and sex; they're a lot more related than what people like to account for.
Out of my back pocket, I pulled out my knife.
Carter looks at me with big eyes. His eyes briefly flicker to the scars on his thighs from other times I just wanted to see the blood run from under his pale skin.
He likes it, though. He likes it almost as much as I do.
I can see the excitement and the nervousness behind his eyes, but also the belligerence.
Without warning I grab a handful of his hair and pull him to his feet. He lets out a series of short moans and whines.
I clap my hand over his mouth from behind, and I hush him softly, bringing the knife to his neck.
"We'll have none of that today. You're gonna ride my cock while I read and you're not gonna make a sound. Am I understood?" I ask.
His whimpers subsided and he nods his head.
I sit back on the couch in my pink strap on and lube it up slowly. He stands a few feet away and watches me do so looking so eager to please.
"C'mere." I motion with the knife.
Carter takes hesitant steps toward me biting his lip.
"Turn around, take off your panties."
I tell him softly.
He follows my directions,but he was going so slow. My hand quickly comes down on his little ass.
"Do it faster, slut."
I say little harsher.
"Miss, please. I'll behave."
He whines. Wow, big mistake.
"Didn't I tell you to be quiet?"
I iterate, landing two harsh slaps on his ass. He bites his lip and keeps his mouth shut.
He's faced away from me as he slowly lowers himself onto my silicone cock. I hear his breathing become uneven and ragged, but he doesn't say a word or utter a single noise.
Once he begins to bounce on my strap on rhythmically, I hold the tip of my pocket knife to his throat.
"Not a sound, love."
I reiterate.
With the knife still to his throat, I pick up my book and begin to read a twenty page long chapter. He's going to ride my silicone dick until I'm finished with this chapter.
Small desperate whining noises begin to sound when I'm on the fifth page of the chapter. I press the knife harder to his neck.
It wasn't until a few pages later that I realized, God, this book is so boring. It's at the point of the plot in which everything is seemingly uneventful and almost mundane. I set the book down and turn my full attention to Carter who's being such a good boy for me.
I yank his head by his hair exposing his full neck and I run the knife across his Adam's apple. He tries to fight the moan that's escaping, but he fails in doing so.
"Be a good fuck toy, no noises now."
I whisper.
A short teasing moan escapes from his mouth.
"You're just a dumb little whore aren't you?"
With a one quick movement, I turned him around so that I'm fucking him against the couch. I thrust in and out of him aggressively and take all my anger out on him.
He makes small whines at first, still stifling the moans as best he could, but it was just too much for him. Tears slid freely down his face as short moans escape from his mouth. I simultaneously spank him, but he of course likes it.
"Who do you fucking belong to?"
"Ah—you, you mi-miss."
He shakily answers.
"Please—ah—please."
I know what he's begging for, but before I could grant him permission, he came all over the seat.
I didn't chastise him for it like I normally would have because I could tell he was tired.
I kissed him on the forehead and got up to make him some milk tea and biscuits.
