Page 41 of Ship of Fools

“I’m going to fuck you raw, baby, and open up that virgin hole of yours.” I hum, as a little moan escapes his lips.

“I’m not really a butt virgin,” he says, and I laugh.

“I know, baby, but for now… You are… you are straight, and tied to my bed, and I am going to stick shit up your fine arse, and make you come. How does that sound?”

He rolls his hips underneath me, as his cock jerks under the covers. “Bring it on, baby. So, I’m straight?”

“Yup.”

“I’ve never been straight.”

“You can plead for the virtue of your pretty little hole.” I giggle and motion for him to turn over.

“Go careful on my pretty little hole. It’s delicate and extremely sensitive.” He tries, as I just giggle even more, and place a well-aimed slap at his arse cheek. It obviously stings nicely as he wriggles around on the bed.

“I should have brought the paddle.” I mutter under my breath, as I get off the bed and go over and rummage around in my suitcase. I brought a few little toys, the big flesh-coloured dildo thingy, the one with the loose floppy balls, that doesn’t look very appealing, but those balls give you a nice grip for thrusts, something Luca has told me on numerous occasions as he has been destroying my own fine little hole with it. And the thinner prostate wand. Just to torture him with.

“You can use the hairbrush,” comes from the bed, as I skim out of my boxers, and a smile creeps up my face.

“If I use the hairbrush, you will be showing some godawful marks on the beach tomorrow.” I warn. “If you let me use the brush, Iwillmark you, because that thing hurts.”

I smile to myself, as I weigh the brush in my hand. It’s mine, and I have paddled myself sore with it before, before I met Luca, when I still had to make my own fantasies come true. It’s not the same as having someone else play with you, but still… It’s good. Good enough.

“Arse up, and hold on to the edge of the mattress, baby.” I think I’m good at this, well, not as good as Luca, because he can make me shiver with only a few words, and make me follow his orders blindly, just with the tone of his voice? Me? I sound a bit like a bossy mouse, threatening to spank him with a plastic straw or something equally silly.

I still sit myself down on the edge of the bed, letting my hand smooth over his skin. His legs, his thighs. His back that is arching under my touch.

“If it’s too much, stop me.” I whisper.

“Do what you need to do.” He says.

“I’m going to go easy—” I start, but he interrupts me with a stern instruction.

“Go hard. Make me feel it. Don’t think I can’t take it, because I can. Just do what you need to do. Take it all out on me, and get it out of your system.”

I kind of know what he’s trying to say, and my head goes into a spin of thoughts that I don’t want to think. I want to get out of my head, not into it.

“Give me ten blows. Make me count them out. Hard.”

I throw the first blow, probably harder than I should have, the back of the brush landing with a sharp smack against his skin.

He howls. My dick jerks.

“One!” he shouts, as I land another one on the opposite cheek.

“Fuuck, that hurts!”

“You want me to stop?” I tease.

“Bastard. Do it again!”

“Sir Bastard, to you,” I hiss, as I land a third blow, and he lets out a long, drawn-out whine of hurt.

“Four!” He moans.

“That was three, thank you very much.” I laugh evilly, as I turn the hairbrush around and scrape the bristles over his reddened skin.

He sinks into the mattress, trying to get away from my torture, as I follow the bristles with a soft smooth of my hand, before finishing him off with a firm slap as he howls at me to give him more. I give it, of course I do, because he asks so nicely, as I tease and demand his arse back up where I need it. He jerks away, and I drag him up on top of my knees, letting his dick sink between my legs. It’s a nice position, for him, I know, because it’s a favourite of mine too.

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