Page 73 of A Brat's Tale
It’s hard for him to school his expression; the corners of his lips twitch. “Someone wants to come tonight. Very good, Tristan. You must always ask to do anything, even if it’s implied.” He grips my hair by the roots. “Go ahead, suck my cock, naughty kitten.”
I peer one eye up at him.
He smiles. “That’s your name whether you’re behaved or not.”
Arse!
That’s fine. He’s going to regret everything he’s ever done to me. I know revenge by cock sucking doesn’t seem like the dastardliest plan since he will enjoy the fuck out of this, but he’ll be weak in the knees and that will even the score somehow.
I don’t use my hands since I’ve not been instructed to do so. That would require breaking form and I’ve already caught on that breaking form is to be avoided at all cost, unless given special permission.
I’m tempted to swallow him down whole, but I want to be more devious than that. I pretend it’s hard for me to reach his cock, even though I’m adept at contracting my core ab muscles enough to bend forward without falling out of position. I want him to enjoy this in every way, while I drive him a little crazy. I put all my focus into the task.
I begin at the tip licking my tongue around the top. I don’t get much response from him, nor do I expect it. I’m sure he’s had his cock sucked a billion times over and has conditioned himself into placidity. But I’m not trying to reinvent the wheel here, I’m doing what I know ones like Strobavik and Alrik like—becoming a pliant toy who’s ready to please.
Working with Strobavik, I’ve learned a thing or two. Those who fall into the slave designation enjoy the feeling of being consummatelycontrolled, sometimes down to the smallest of tasks. Strobavik recounted how one of his client’s slaves needed instructions such as which leg to slide into his pants first and exactly how many peas he should eat from his plate.
It’s even better for slaves when their Master can do all the things they aren’t permitted to do, furthering the divide between roles—this divide creates the feeling they both want. Sometimes the tasks seem unfair—like having the Master clothed while the slave is naked.
In some ways, brats are similar, but we tend to resist, we need help to surrender. This is why we aren’t made for submissive positions, but I’m beginning to see that we do contain similar inner wiring. Given the right environment, it’s inspired from us.
The edges of the world blur as I enter subspace—the earliest I ever have with Strobavik.
I’m committed to this and do all the things I presume he’ll love, using my tongue to lathe down his shaft, wetting him so the cool air can hit the warm spots and make him shiver.
He does.
Next, I cover his cock with my hot mouth, taking him in all the way to the base where my nose nuzzles up to his neatly trimmed pubic hair. As I pull back, I swirl my tongue along the base sucking at the same time. When I hear him panting, I know I’ve got him—he’s enjoying this.
I use my tongue like a snake wrapping around a pole as I suck down his cock and do the same as I suck up, opening my throat, allowing as much of his cock to slide into my mouth as is possible. Baya was large, and I learned to take him. I don’t have a problem with Strobavik.
I carry on like this, my head bobbing over his cock, periodically peering up at him—Tops love that. His body is as relaxed as it can be while standing upright, his head tosses back occasionally and sometimes he stares at me with wondering eyes.
I speed up my ministrations and reveal how far forward I can lean without losing perfect posture. As he’s about to come, I slow down, and he grips the roots of my hair. My scalp complains, but I keepgoing. “Careful, Tristan,” he says. “I know what you’re doing. You don’t control this, I do.”
Fuck.Wow. More than the edges blur, everything is blurred and I’m on a cloud. Floating. “How can I please you further, Master Strobavik?”
He moans. “Open your mouth, keep it open.”
I do, he fucks into it, I keep my teeth out of the way. He moves at a medium pace—not too slow, not too fast—but when he gets to the end, it’s hard to keep up with him and when he comes, some of it dribbles down my chin.
He wipes the come from my lips. “Even when you are deep into subspace, you’re still a naughty brat, but that was divine. Now, bend over the table, it’s time to put you in your place. You’re going to pay for that.”
And I do.
He’s relentless with his collection of dildos, starting with smaller ones and working up to the largest ones over a few hours. Halfway through, when it’s obvious I’m going to come no matter how much I try not to, he wraps a leather cock ring around the base of my cock, which leaves me rock hard and unable to come. My balls feel heavy and I have to bite my lip to keep from begging.
“That’s it, Tristan. When Alrik takes you, you’ll receive him just like this,” he explains pushing the dildo into me and pulling it out slowly.
I don’t know what Elves make their sex toys out of, but it’s soft and pliant and it does a good impression of a real cock. I can feel the veins.
I hold position over the table best I can, but I’m tiring out. My hands are flat on the table, arms extended and wobbly. My arse is out, legs spread as wide as they’ll go, close to buckling. It’s a humiliating position, which means my cock is extra interested. “Master Strobavik,please. I don’t think I can hold back any longer.”
Instead of a firm ‘whack’ like I got the last time I pleaded, he’s soft, cooing at me. “C’mon my bratty kitten, you can do this. I know you have it in you. Just a little more.”
I want to do it; I want to please him.
The world blurs further.
