Sunny Jim

Warning: If you struggle with an eating disorder, I strongly urge you to skip this story. Your life is hard enough without visualizing things that are harmful to your health.

Note: I'm not sure this one is erotica. (But if it is for you, awesome!) It's merely a short story about a D/s relationship and contains sex.

I was in a romantic mood when I wrote it. Then the person for whom I wrote it read it, was horrified, and that was the end of that. The search continues.

* * * * *

"The past six weeks haven't been easy on you, pet, so now your Master has a special treat for you," he purrs sweetly.

The girl wags her tailbone in her hands-and-knees pose at his feet.

"You got me something, Sir? What is it?" Her round eyes are already shining as if she could burst into tears. He's truthful--the past weeks have not been easy.

He continues in the musical tone that inflects his speech when he's feeling lighter, not taking their play as serious as it can be; their relationship is as heavy and deep as they know how to pursue it, but that doesn't mean they don't have fun, too. They play with all the colors in the box, from black as hell to pink like an island beach. Nothing is ever just one thing.

"I know how much someone likes ice cream, and I have her favorite. But..." he adds, teasing, "she gets to have it in a special way, just... this... once."

The pet licks her blowjob lips and wipes them on the back of her paw. He smirks at how she salivates and she blushes. That extra spit is for him, not the fancy Tahitian Vanilla pint in the freezer.

"Go get it, pet, before I change my mind about this."

She scrambles away clumsily like a big, eager puppy. He sighs; this will probably be much more pleasurable for her than for Master. For him, it's going to be ice cold and messy. Oh well, she deserved something sweet after her struggles.

The pet crawls to him and presents the carton and a big metal spoon to him like they are sacramentals. She touches her forehead to his knee, and he ruffles her curly hair. Master stands up and gracefully strips off his T-shirt, then stretches out on his back, hands folded behind his head, right there on the hardwood floor.

"Alright. You can have what you want," he sighs.

The first time the pet had seen a photo of him with his shirt off, she exclaimed that he looked like he must taste like vanilla ice cream. The firm flesh of his belly looked delicious. The sight of his slim hips had enticed her, but she wanted to lick him everywhere. Long and hard, cream-colored and imbued with rose, his cock was perfection but this pet had a particular fetish. Not many people shared this one, and she never understood why; even women who'd given lots of fellatio and licked asses made a face when she'd revealed it during girl talk.

Master agreed it was unusual, but he wouldn't ever make a face about something that aroused her. There was no kink-shaming between them.

"Remind me: What is 'maschalagnia?'" he'd asked her when they were first getting to know each other and read each other's questionnaires.

"It means I like...um, armpits. I think they're pretty, or they are on some people, and I like the scent, and... licking there." Master couldn't tell if she was embarrassed or turned on or a lot of both. It was sweet and weird, too, like most things about her.

After they would play together or fuck, she'd inch her face closer and closer to his underarm like a sneaky puppy. He allowed this. He was always honest, though, even as he indulged her when she was good: "It's okay if you want to rest your face there, pet, but I really don't enjoy the feeling of your wet tongue on my armpit. Just saying."

"Oh. I'm sorry, Sir. I won't do that anymore," she said, sounding too remorseful for his taste.

"You don't have to be sorry. I just want you to know what I like and what I don't. It's not terrible. Maybe I'll let you for a special treat."

He could feel her smiling against his naked skin. "Maybe, if it's for a treat, you'd let me... no, nevermind--if you don't like being licked there, then you'd hate it."

"Hate what? Now you have to tell me. All I can say is no." He was intrigued. The idea must have grabbed her imagination for her to be so greedy. You give them an inch...

"I've always wanted to eat ice cream out of a beautiful armpit," she said, all in a rush, and then held her breath.

"Well, we'll see," he said, sounding like a parent who means 'no.' But he filed the idea away to be brought out at the right time.

It was about that time today.

Six weeks earlier, Master had made a very unsettling discovery. He had his pet at the pet doctor. He was conscientious: His dogs went to the vet and his pet girl to the pet doctor for their regular check-ups.

She'd lost a little weight, which was no cause for concern, but she had cavities in her teeth. Again?

The doctor had a word with him privately.

"You know why her tooth enamel is so weak, right Jim?" the doctor had said with a tone the Dom didn't appreciate.

"She brushes her teeth! I wouldn't allow her to have poor hygiene!" The thought of keeping a human with a dirty mouth was revolting. He'd never allow that. He made her brush her teeth after she ate his ass, too, if she expected him to kiss her.

"So you aren't playing with vomit."

"What?! Who does that..." but he caught himself as soon as the question was out of his mouth, considering the setting. There is someone who does everything, and surely a pet doctor had heard it all.

"This kind of tooth decay is from stomach acid. Does she have acid reflux, complain of heartburn?"

"No," Jim answered. The picture was coming into focus. "Fuck."

"You just need to have a talk with her. This is a good time to be a strict Owner. She needs it. Kind discipline should straighten this behavior out before it gets out of hand."

Jim had never thought of her as "out of hand" before. Not in the slightest. He provided plenty of food for them, but he never paid any attention to how much she ate. As long as there was enough and she had good nutrition, then that was adequate care as far as he was concerned. They had more interesting things to do than cooking and eating meals like bourgeois people. He knew his pet had a sweet tooth. He thought that was endearing when he thought about it at all.

It seemed she was throwing up for some reason and no, they were not playing with that. The thought of that nauseated him. The thought of what she was doing made his heart hurt for her. He would have to proceed delicately, but one way or another, this would not continue.

It all came out, so to speak, spontaneously, as sometimes happens. When Jim's work-life had become hectic he put off addressing her problem. Then, one night, all the pieces of the pattern came into stark focus. First, there was some cake. Then more cake. Then she'd consumed more cake than a person her size could ever want. Then an overly long trip to the bathroom, from which she emerged with bloodshot eyes.

His reaction took them both by surprise and left them both shaking.

"No!" he'd yelled, the way one does at discovering a dog chewing up your best shoes. "No! This ends now!"

She ran out of the house and after it had been dark for a while, he set out on foot to find her. It was the suburbs, so not dangerous and there was really no place for her to go at that hour. She was lurking somewhere in the leafy shadows. Jim regretted his reaction, then even his decision to Own a person. Then he second-guessed his choice of pets; he'd simply picked the wrong girl for him. He was aggravated and sorrowful and pissed off and concerned all at once. So he phoned a friend.

"Honestly, I thought this would be easy," Jim chuckled drily.

"Don't be so discouraged. She's better than most. I mean, they're all screwed up in one way or another. All of them come damaged."

"Is that really true? That subs are all damaged?" Jim had always thought that was an ignorant assumption made by so-called 'normals' about people like them. Judgemental idiots who didn't know anything about them said things like that, not his mates.

"Not subs--people. People are all damaged. You just see it more when you become responsible for them. She really trusts you. If anyone can fix anyone, then you can fix this with her."

Jim felt more himself after their talk. David was probably his most emotionally intelligent friend and the one he relied on for perspective about serious matters. After David's last pet died of cancer, he'd become philosophical, and even wise, though he'd laugh at that characterization. Jim had been there for him and since then, they remained close enough to call with a problem, no matter if they hadn't spoken for a while.

The problem was now visible up ahead, shuffling pathetically along the sidewalk.

"Hey," Jim called softly. "Come home now." It was a command, not a plea, and she was still obedient to him. She turned and walked to him silently.

"There are going to be new rules you won't like, but that's too bad," he said and put his arm around her shoulders.

"Okay," she mumbled. Her voice sounded scratchy.

Jim took all the paid Human Pet Leave his employers provided. She would require supervision. There was a nutritionist consulted. There were displays of brattiness he never expected he'd ever see from this pet. Sometimes she'd refuse to eat what had been decided for her and would fall asleep at the table during their battle of wills like a fucking toddler. Or else she'd eat and then cry at having to digest. He had to tie her down to keep her from running up and down the stairs to burn up "extra" calories. He hadn't even known that was a thing.

When she failed to maintain his trust enough to use the toilet normally, she was made to use the backyard with the dogs. Unsurprisingly, that part didn't annoy her.

When he withheld sex, not even letting her suck him off, they were both fairly miserable. Yet, he endured it. "It won't be forever," David reassured him. "I hate to say it because it sounds like I'm making it about me, but you know it could be worse, right?"

He did have a point. This wasn't leukemia. This was some weird regression to adolescent behavior and he'd train it out of her. He could certainly do that as her Owner.

"You're my property and I won't have it damaged. I don't understand why you do this to yourself. Can you tell me what this is about? Are you unhappy?"

The pet began to sob. "N-n-no, Sir! I love you so much! I just hate myself! I don't know wh-why I'm li-like this!" and she cried until the snot became unmanageable and she buried her head in her lap like she was on a crashing plane.

"Well, you're not allowed to. It's against my rules," he soothed and petted her soft curls.

The weeks wore on with progress and setbacks. Little by little, though, he adjusted to the reality of this challenge and felt optimistic, too. He was over his disappointment and, if he was honest with himself, disgust at her illness. He felt closer to the pet than he'd wanted to be. The new intimacy wasn't so bad. It's not like she'd become his equal or something boring like that.

This past week had felt like they'd turned a corner. She had stopped being rude to the nutritionist when she came over and they cooked a meal together. The pet looked proud of herself and walked straighter when she wasn't crawling. She stopped resisting consuming her portions was only physically restained for fun, not to prevent her from purging via exercise.

Master took her out for dinner at their favorite restaurant and they talked like grown-ups again about a variety of topics, none of which were her mental health. In the car after, he let her have his dick again, and she looked up at him with clear, grateful eyes while she blew him. In that moment, there was nothing child-like about her, which was a refreshing change and he let her take control, just for a brief spell. It led to a gorgeous release of tension. Master's whole body dissolved in pleasure and he felt focused and recharged after. The girl looked so sated it warmed his heart. She remembered to stick out her tongue to let him see his cum there, as he likes.

So today when he stopped at the store on his way home from the office, he didn't hesitate to pick up the ice cream. It was the expensive kind, rich in fat. A few weeks ago, that would have been sadistic to do to her. Today he was sure it would be a treat.

Now, he gazed up at his little Owned fucktoy as she knelt beside him. She bit her lower lip as she carefully scooped out a large glob of melting vanilla. Using both hands, she positioned it right in the hollow under his creamy arm.

"That's so cold!" he hollered and laughed. "Fuck, that's really cold, baby girl."

"Don't worry, I'm going to eat you all up, Sir," she happily replied and dove in face first.

* * * * *

For readers who enjoyed Jason... don't worry, this is not him in disguise, though when I originally wrote this, the character's name was Jason. Then someone by that name contacted me! He's helping me to dream up another story that is set sometime after "A Stopover."