An Unlikely Slave

I stared at the screen as my finger lazily spun the little wheel in the middle of the mouse. I sat hunched over my desk, my expression less than enthused if even fully awake. The knock at the door barely warranted a disinterested glance over my shoulder. I leaned over to pluck up my discarded shirt from the its pile on the floor coupled with my bra, ending their entangled laundry love affair.

"Door's open." I call out gruffly as I shuffled my baggy t-shirt into place.

The single light in the room cast its fluorescent glow on my face from above my desk. I kept my back to the door, as always the picture of hospitality and warmth. I glanced down to my short shorts in sudden reminder as my bruises pressed to the cushion of the seat, I really should have thrown some actual pants on.

I sighed as I finished up the last line of code on my stagnant program, rolling my shoulders as my small hand came up to rub at the apex of my neck and shoulder, the glamorous life of a kinkster. Before I could finally turn to recognize my visitor, strong thick fingers found my shoulders kneading at them with finger tips and palms pressing into the stiff muscles. His finger tips brushed mine for brief seconds as he began to rub. I, snatching my hand away in response to the surprising and sudden touch, couldn't control the pink blush that painted my cheeks. I cleared my throat and sat up straighter, curbing my enthusiasm as I effected my most controlled and disinterested voice, already recognizing the hands and letting my gruff façade morph my posture and expression, even as I pressed back into those strong hands.

"What's up?"

He didn't respond. I didn't press. The room suddenly thick with what felt like an impenetrable silence, fearful of saying the wrong thing or ending the moment I stayed silent. The barest moans and whimpers of approval escaping my lips as those hands continued to manipulate my skin and muscles, my head eventually lulling forward, such a slave to my body's reflexive responses.

His hands changed their path to smooth up the column of my neck, his finger tips touching together as his thumbs touched, his hands completely encircling my throat as he continued his massage, pulling them away then bringing them back to ensnare my throat in the collar of his hands. I shivered uncontrollably, his pointer fingers having to nudge my chin up as my face hung forward so that I wouldn't unwittingly choke myself on his hands. Lost in the euphoria of his touch, my eyes startled open as a new sensation of thick rubber smoothed up the back of my neck, catching on my skin as it slid towards its goal. Finally the collar wrapping around my pale neck, as his body sheltered around me in order to work the buckle at the front, capturing me in such a simple way.

Still unwilling to let go of my gruff exterior, unwilling to be vulnerable, unwilling to chance even a small rejection, I sat stiffly facing the screen of my computer, clearing my throat and feeling it press into the tight encircling collar.

"It's okay if you are busy, I've got all this work to do anyways and I'm still pretty sore from the party." I said as my eyes drifted closed and steeled myself for some excuse, or agreement, or posturing, or ..rejection.

I winced as the silence still choked the air, fighting the urge to turn around and look at him, or find an empty room. I nearly jumped from my chair as the hook to the end of a leash attached to the circle at the front of the simple collar I wore. A shivering sigh escaping my lips, as I almost felt the tension and distrust drain from me, but not quite. There was too much at stake when a man was involved.

His hands cupped under my arms as he used gentle pressure there to tug at me, I obediently stood from the chair without a second thought, instinctively responding to the silent command. The chair spun away from my legs in a flurry of racket and movement, as he must have kicked it away to crash into the closed door, his hands staying firmly on my shoulders, one pressing the handle of the leash into my skin where it peaked through the gaping collar of my shirt.

With another gentle but firm pressure, this time to my shoulders, I bent forward; my hands catching my upper body's weight as palms met the desk. He went so far as to smooth palm and fingers up my neck, and raked them through my hair as he pushed my head down, forcing it to bow submissively where I would hold it high and proud otherwise.

His touch and control left me for the briefest second before his hands found the waist of my shorts, giving them a swift tug and letting them fall to the floor in a puddle of cloth around my ankles. I gasped; startled to be suddenly bare from the waist down, the cool air already tracing delicious invisible chills on the wetness that had formed between my thighs. I arched my back, bending forward even more as I presented my ass to him, my knees bending slightly at an angle to spread my thighs, assuming that his fingers would find my sex immediately.

Instead I gasped and nearly launched myself into the backing of my shelved desk, as his hands began to rub and knead at the tender bruised flesh of my ass. I moaned in response, my cool demeanor, my aloofness, and my disregard shed so easily, as his hands worked so simply at my cheeks. My arms trembled and finally gave way, depositing me with my cheek to the cool wood surface of the desk, suddenly so prone and impossibly vulnerable.

His hands trailed up my back, bunching my shirt on his wrists as his hands travelled, and then unraveling it as his finger tips tickled down from the ridge of my shoulders, repeating the path over and over again. My eyes were softly closed as my expression melted into utter complacency.

One hand left its gentle torment, my ears perking to the sound of zippers and shuffling clothing that followed. Still holding the handle of the leash, he circled his palm with the chain, shortening the give and length of leash as his other hand probed the head of his dick at my wanting sex. There was only the briefest pause, the briefest moment of my body silently pleading; all nerve endings aware only of my wet lips wrapped around just the thick head of his cock. Within the next moment, that seemed to drag on for an eternity as my overly sensitized self became aware of every iota of sensation, he jerked my body up from the desk by his hold on the leash, the collar catching at my throat and refusing to turn towards the pull, causing me to choke in response before I straightened and stood tall, impaled on the length of his cock that had thrust into me during the distraction, my torso pressed and curled against his. I was only dimly aware of the way the skin of his dick caught and dragged a little painful at the insides of my sex, the adrenaline that had pumped in response to my air supply becoming endangered, had saved me from what would otherwise be at the very least uncomfortable.

The sheer beautiful and possessive nature of the scene ensured that as he dragged the length of his cock from my pussy, it was no longer dry or unreadied. The space of time that followed was a frenzy of our meeting thrusts, my gasping for what little breath I could steal as his hold on my leash remained tight and unforgiving, and my whimpering moans. We finished in an overload of actions, I came with choked screams. He came with fingernails tightening into the flesh of my hip. His hand released its hold on my leash as I fell forward with a muscle-less thud and almost painful full-torso smack into the waiting desk; my mind instead focal on breathing fully again and the waves of my cresting orgasm that was only encouraged by the shuddering, pulsing of his orgasming length.

I was lost in a wordless, thoughtless euphoria, only dimly registering as he worked the buckle of the collar, releasing me. His finger tips rubbing at the tortured skin of my neck to encourage blood flow and care for what might surely be bruised flesh in a few hours. He curled a hand of ownership around my waist, using it to press me forward, herding me to the bed. Somehow only clothed in his boxers now, me still in my t-shirt, he laid himself out along the length of my bed facing me as he reached out to snare my wrist with his hand, pulling me into the curve of his body and the comfort of my bed. I went without resistance, as I thankfully curved my body to his, his form spooning mine, my cheek falling like lead to the soft pillow below. His arm curled over me as it curtained us with my thick pink comforter. His lips pressed to the hollow of my neck behind my ear, his shallow breaths blowing across the ridge.

And we slept.