We Call It Master And Servant [RPF] (NC-17)
Author: Oddreigh
Title: We Call It Master And Servant (Made To Be Broken 4/10)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4,300
Pairing: Chris/Darren. Kind of. ;)
Warning(s): Domination and submission. Brief mention of tentacles.
Spoilers: Oh dear god, no.
Summary: Chris finds something unexpected while at Darren’s. Darren is mortified, but in a really good way.
Notes: Starts off really talky, but I promise, there is porn to be found. Trust me. Big thanks go out to erisgregory for helping me solve the biggest problem I had with this part (she's my hero, you don't even know) and whenidance for assuring me that the porn was, in fact, porny enough and worked the way I was hoping it did. Oh, yeah - this all begins right after the tour’s ended, in case you need the timeline to make sense.
No one in their right mind would call me before eight o’clock on a weekend. That’s the first thing that springs to mind when the buzzing of my Blackberry wakes me up. I give a glance to the bedside alarm clock and mutter a few choice words under my breath as I answer the phone. “Whoever this is,” I snarl, not even bothering to check the caller ID “you’d better have a damn good reason for waking me up at this hour.”
“Dude, it’s like, almost ten. I hadn’t pegged you for a slacker.”
How did I not already know? “Darren,” I say, trying my best to remain calm and polite “it may be almost ten where you are, but it’s like, six thirty over here. I was on set until three, so you’d better have a really good reason for waking me up this early.”
“Oh, shit - Chris, I’m sorry. I’m just so used to all the traveling that I’ve almost forgotten that time zones exist, you know? Look, I’ll let you go. Just call me when you wake up, okay?” He sounds genuinely apologetic, and I’m more than slightly infuriated with myself for not being more infuriated with him.
“No, Darren, it’s okay. I’m already awake. Damage is done. I probably wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep now if I tried, so might as well let me know what you had to say while you have the chance.”
“Uh, we passed an alpaca farm on our way here, and it made me think of you?”
“Seriously, Darren? You called me at six thirty in the morning to tell me you saw an alpaca farm?”
“It sounds so stupid when you put it like that.”
“As opposed to the brilliant way you phrased it? Honestly, Darren, I’ve reworded it about a dozen times in my head, and not one of them sounds less than completely ridiculous.”
“Yeah, well, you-you’re completely…ridiculous,” Darren stammers, clearly aware that I’m right, but unwilling to admit defeat. “Still…they were really cool-looking alpacas. I tried getting a picture to send you, but we may have been going a couple or thirty miles above the speed limit, so it just came out as kind of one big alpaca-colored blur. Alpaca’s kind of a funny word, isn’t it? I just like saying it. Alpaca. AL-paca. Al-PACK-a. Alpa-“
“Do you have a point, Darren? Or is this just going to be another installment of ‘Darren Thinks He’s Cuter Than He Really Is?’”
“Hey,” Darren yelps, clearly playing the part of the wounded soul to the hilt. “I’ll have you know there are tons of internet fan girls who would be more than happy to spend hours making a very convincing argument for my cuteness.”
“You really are a whore, you know that?” I ask, and give a small laugh in spite of myself. “That’s it, really? Alpacas?”
“Well…” he trails off for a second. “That, and your last e-mail sounded like you were kind of upset. I guess I just wanted to check and see if you were doing okay.”
I let out a sigh and sit up, my back propped against my headboard. “It’s…okay, I guess,” I say, picking at a loose thread on my comforter. “One of the actresses is trying to play the diva card, despite no one having a clue who she is. One of the producers is pushing for some really offensive re-writes. Another actor broke his leg in a mosh pit over the weekend, forcing us to either write it into the script and completely re-storyboard his scenes or re-cast the part with zero time to do either, and to top it all off, we lost some of the funding, so the whole production’s basically in jeopardy, at this point, and holy run on sentence, this is why I never talk to anyone before eight if I can help it.” I run a hand across my face and take a deep breath. “It’ll all get sorted out sooner or later. It has to. I’m not really in the habit of failing, and I don’t intend to start.”
“Somehow,” Darren begins, “I have a feeling you’re right. You’re kind of a force of nature. If you say it’s going to be okay, it probably will be, even if just by sheer force of your own will.”
“Well, that is how Glee got picked up,” I joke, feeling slightly more human than when I answered the phone. “How’s the tour going? Where are you, even?”
“Pittsburgh. We just got to the hotel about an hour ago, and we’ve got most of the day before sound check. I actually got my own room this time, so I thought I’d take advantage of the privacy and give you a call to check in.”
“Oh,” I say, more than a little confused. Darren and I are friends, but we’re not really the sort who merit check-ins upon arrival, much less privacy.
“Well, check in, and say thank you for your very kind and thoughtful gift.”
“Oh. That.” Suddenly, the privacy makes a lot more sense. “Well, after seeing how much your stash resembled a twelve year old girl’s hope chest, I had to make sure you had at least one toy that I wouldn’t be embarrassed to fuck you with.”
“Hey,” he says, sounding almost convincingly wounded. “There is nothing wrong with any of my toys. Don’t get all high and mighty with me just because I like to have a little fun.”
“Darren,” I sigh, “one of your toys is shaped like a tentacle. I’m pretty sure that shoots straight past ‘fun,’ and right toward ‘ridiculous.’”
“I’ll have you know that all that texture on it does absolutely insane things going in and out. I’ll let you borrow it sometime. Then, you’ll see how wrong you were to judge, and you’ll be begging me to get you one for your very own.”
“Okay, one? Ew. No offense, Darren, but I think we need to establish rule seven - nothing that’s ever been up your ass ever gets anywhere near mine. It just seems kind of unhygienic.”
Darren laughs a little, and I find myself thinking for the first time about how nice this arrangement really is. It’s like an unspoken agreement that we’re closer friends because of it, and we’re more free to joke around with one another than we were before. It’s almost as if sharing this secret means we can share our other secrets, too. “Fair enough, I guess. Hey, you use Skype, don’t you?”
“Yeah, to talk to my sister,” I say. “Why?”
“My phone’s about to die if I don’t give it a rest and stick it on the charger, but I’m kind of having fun annoying you. I thought that maybe, if you were up for it, we could harness the power of the internets.”
“Internet doesn’t need to be pluralized, Darren.”
“Lies! It totally does. Anyway, that’s not an answer. Gonna’ log on and let me bug you for a little longer?”
“Fine,” I groan, grabbing my laptop from where I left it on my nightstand the night before. “Give me a few minutes to get it loaded up, okay?”
“Dude, I think my phone’s about to die, like, any second. Just tell me your screen name, and I’ll send you a request right now. I checked my e-mail before I called you, so my computer’s all ready to go.”
“MisterLovettsPieShop - all words fully spelled out and without any spaces or punctuation.” I hear some muffled clacking on the other end, and assume he’s sending the request. “How will I know who you are?”
“Oh,” he chuckles “you’ll know. Believe me. But for now, I need to go. I’ll request the call as soon as I see that you’re online, okay?”
“Sure thing, Darren. Talk to you in a bit,” I say, and disconnect the call. It only takes a few minutes for my laptop to boot up, and once Skype loads, there’s a call from…MisterLovettsWhoreShop?
Oh, dear.
I cringe a little as I accept the call, and sure enough, Darren’s face fills the screen just moments later. “Hey,” he calls out, clearly bouncing up and down a little, even though he’s so close that all I can see is his face. “Long time, no see!”
“It’s been positively ages,” I deadpan. “A whole, what? Five days, I think?”
“I’m wounded, Chris. It’s been six, and you know it. Is the picture working for you? I can’t see you. Can you see me?”
“Of course I can see you, Darren. You’re so close to the screen, I can practically count your eyelashes.”
“Well, then, I’ll save you the trouble. I’ve got about a hundred and sixty-five on my left and a hundred and eighty on my right, give or take a few. I have been told by very reputable sources that this is higher than average, and I take it as further proof that I am truly an exceptional human being.”
“Yes, Darren. You’re exceptionally annoying. Now, are you going to back away from the screen a little, or am I going to have to throw a sheet over it to distract me from the extreme close-up on your face?”
“Fair enough,” he says, backing away slowly enough that it takes a bit before I register the fact that he’s not wearing any clothes. “So,” he grins, “I was thinking we could maybe have some fun, if you were up for it.”
“Wouldn’t that technically be breaking rules four and five?”
Darren tilts his head off to the side. “Refresh my memory. Which ones are those?”
“Rule four is only at your place, and rule five is that we’re equals whenever we’re not…wherever we’re playing.”
“Well,” he begins, “since I’m touring right now, this hotel room is kind of like my temporary home, so that takes care of rule four. If rule four is taken care of, then that makes this an appropriate place to play around, and if we’re playing around, there’s no need to be equals. See? All fair and in accordance with the rules.” He flashes a grin and wiggles an eyebrow in a mock-seductive manner “besides, I think you broke one of those first, what with calling me a whore and telling me to wash off my stink from over the phone.”
I blush a little, and I’m kind of thankful I haven’t turned on my camera. “You’re right, and I apologize. It was out of line, and I shouldn’t have gone there.”
“No,” he rushes, his face a mask of panic. “Dude, Chris, I liked that. It may have technically been outside of the rules, but it was so perfect. It was just another little sign that you really get this, and you’re not just dicking around.”
“So words are okay, provided no one else can hear, of course?”
“Yeah, I think.”
“Good to know,” I say, shoving another pillow behind my back and getting a little more comfortable. “So if I were to tell you right now that I always knew you were a dirty little slut who was can barely exist if he’s not putting on a show, that would be perfectly fine, right?” I ask with a grin of my own, already sure of the answer.
“More than fine,” Darren grins back, running a hand down his chest and tracing the lines of his curves with his fingertips. “Any requests?”
“Well, first of all,” I sigh, feeling myself slip into the proper role, “I’d like to request that the next time you take up my time with this, you be a little more prepared with some ideas of your own. I know your little whore brain probably isn’t capable of it, but you do need to at least try to keep my attention, you know.”
“Oh, but I did have some ideas, Sir.” Darren leans back a little and spreads his legs just enough for me to see the flared end of a plug sticking out of his asshole. “Like how much it might please you if you found out that I put this in just before I called.”
“Whether or not I’m pleased will depend on how big it is and how much I think you had to work to keep it in. Take it out and let me see.”
“If you say so, Sir,” he purrs, giving a small push with his hips as he pulls the plug out with one hand. He holds it up for my approval, placing his other hand up beside it as if to offer a comparison. It’s not very big, but it’s still a decent size. It’s made of glass, and mostly clear, with a green center. It’s really quite tame, by his usual standards.
“Is that the only thing you brought to amuse me with?” I ask. “If so, I think I might disconnect. It’s a nice little effort, but I really think your ass would agree with me that you need a lot more than that before you can be accused of not slacking off in your duties.”
“Actually,” he begins “I do have something else with me, and I think you might approve.” His hand disappears beneath a nearby pillow, only to reappear wrapped around a deep blue shaft. “This was what I really wanted to show you, Sir. I wanted to show you how thankful I am for the gift you’ve given me, and prove myself worthy of your attention.”
It’s Christopher, the dildo I bought him just before he left. It looks bigger than I’d expected, the blue glass brighter than the pictures on the website had led me to believe. “I’d love to see you try,” I say in carefully measured tones, doing my best to not let on how much I’ve wanted to see just this happen “but I’ve got my doubts that you can.”
Darren uses his free hand to pick the plug back up again, and he begins to press it back inside. I’m just about to protest and tell him that it’s not good enough, when he clamps his legs together and begins to rock his hips back and forth. From the way his eyes drift shut and small sounds of pleasure begin to escape his throat, it’s clear that the rocking is making the plug move just enough to make a serious difference. He slides the hand he used to insert the plug up to his cock and begins to tease himself. Not enough to really get hard, but enough to make it clear that he’s aroused.
Before I can make any suggestions, Darren lifts Christopher to his face and allows his mouth to fall slack before slowly dragging its head against the inside of his lower lip. I can tell the inside of his mouth is kind of dry, because it tugs on the end of his lip a little, held on by the friction. “Is this okay, Sir?” he asks, breathlessly, and I nod to myself before I answer.
“Keep doing what you’re doing, whore. It amuses me to see what you think is sexy.” “It totally is, by the way,” I think to myself. “I know you’ve spent a lot of time overworking your sad little whore brain over this, so enjoy it while I allow it.”
“Yes, Sir,” Daren murmurs, slipping Christopher lower to trace random patterns against his chest. He brushes it against one hardened nipple, and he gives a little shudder.
“What do you want to do with it, slut?”
Darren tightens his grip and appears to fall into himself a little as his hips thrust again and he gives a groan at the new angle the plug has apparently found inside of him. “W-want to suck it,” he gasps, his breathing becoming more uneven and the hand on his dick becoming more determined in its movement. “Please tell me I have your permission to suck it.”
“If you’re that desperate for it, you might as well shove it in your dirty little mouth. You’ll just do it as soon as I walk away, so you might as well do it while I’m still here. That way, I can see just how much you love being my little bitch.” I pause for a second, trying to decide just how far I can take things. “You are my little bitch, aren’t you, Darren?”
“God, yes,” he whispers, almost too low for his laptop’s microphone to pick up. “I’m so your bitch, Sir.”
“Then suck my cock for me, whore. Take it nice and deep and tell me how good it tastes.” I stir a little, doing my best to get more comfortable. I’ve been hard for a while now, and having the laptop on my thighs is starting to get a little uncomfortable. I try shifting in different ways before I realize that my best bet is really just to rest the computer on the bed beside me and lie back down so I can stretch out.
He gives a small noise of pleasure as he takes the toy back to his mouth. He spends a lot of time focusing on the head, just lapping softly at the tip and running it over his lips. The whole effect is making me squirm in a not entirely unpleasant way when he lifts his eyes to the screen and addresses me in a more conversational tone.
“Chris?”
“Yes, Darren?” I ask, doing my best to sound cool.
“I want to ask you a question, and I want you to answer me honestly, okay?”
God fucking damn it, why does he have to chose now to get curious? “Yeah, sure, what’s up?”
“Are you…” he trails off, “are you touching yourself? While I’m doing this, I mean.”
I groan inwardly, pissed beyond words that he had to go there. “No, Darren, I’m not. Rest assured that, true to rule number two, I am fully clothed and I’m keeping my hands to myself.”
“Oh,” he says, pausing for a moment. “I hadn’t really thought about that when I suggested this.”
“Is there something wrong with that?” I ask him, suddenly confused.
“It’s just, I mean…” he hesitates for a second, dropping Christopher on the bed beside him and taking his hand off his dick. “I meant it when I said that part of what gets me off is knowing that else is getting pleasure out of it. I can’t really see you right now, so I don’t really have any way of knowing that I’m doing things right.” He breaks for a second, then lets out the next sentence in a rush. “IguessI’msayingthatI’dreallylikeitifIcouldhearyougetoffsoIknowI’mdoingagoodjob,okay?”
“You what?” I ask, thoroughly unconvinced that he just said what I think he said.
“I want,” he says, slipping back into the role of the good little servant, “to know that I’m pleasing you, Sir. Please let me know that I’m pleasing you.”
“Okay,” I breathe, before I’m even aware I’m saying anything. I reach below the sheets to push my pajama pants down my legs and kick my feet out of them when they get near enough my ankles. Then, feeling slightly ridiculous for sitting there in just my t-shirt, I pull it over my head as well, feeling strangely exposed, even though I know that no one can see me.
Darren begins to work Christopher over with more enthusiasm, his saliva making the glass shine brighter in the light that’s filtering in through the window behind him. His hips begin to roll faster and faster, and the strokes on his dick become more urgent and frenzied.
My own touches are fairly light, still not entirely sure about doing this when I know someone else can hear. I start off slow, tracing small circles around one of my nipples and lightly brushing the fingertips of my other hand against my dick as I turn to lie on my side and face the screen better.
“You started off strong, whore, but I think you need to work a little harder if you want me to stick around.”
Darren raises an eyebrow as he looks back at the screen, and the next thing I know, Christopher disappears between his lips. Not completely, of course, but a surprising percentage of him, as Darren tilts his head so far back that I begin to wonder if he ever attempted to train as a sword swallower. From the looks of things, I think he’d be pretty damn good at it. His jaw drops a little, and I can see the muscles in his throat clench as he fights the urge to gag. Another groan escapes him as he raises his eyes to stare into the screen and slowly removes Christopher, now wet and shiny from its time in his throat. “I can do better, Sir,” he purrs, and there’s not a fiber in my body that doubts he can.
He reaches back between his legs and removes Eugene with a little grunt. Reaching back under the same pillow where he’d retrieved Christopher earlier, he produces a bottle of that same awful lube and makes quick work of applying it before he begins to lightly prod at his asshole with the shiny blue tip. “Do you want me to take your cock, Sir? Do you want to hear me beg you to let me take it harder, to tell you I wish you were here to fuck me harder than I can fuck myself?”
“Yes,” I breathe, wrapping my hand around myself and pumping gently as I feel myself harden more completely. “That’s my dick, and you need to remember that, whore. When you take that toy, you’re taking me, and you’re only allowed the honor because I’ve decided you’re now my property. You know that, don’t you? That your ass belongs to me, now? That it’s mine to do with as I please, and you have no say in the matter?”
“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir. It’s an honor, Sir,” the words sound clipped as they come out of him, and he takes a sharp breath as he pushes the head - and only the head - inside.
“You know I did you a favor by using the other toys on you, don’t you? That I lowered myself to your level to use them?” I pause for a second to take a breath and stroke myself harder. “That’s why I bought you your little present, you know. So you’d have something I’d consider worth my time. Something that didn’t look like it would have been at home in a twelve year old girl’s room. Something I wouldn’t be embarrassed to fuck you with. That’s why it’s my dick, and you’d better not ever forget it.” Darren’s head falls back with a moan as he slides Christopher further inside himself and jerks himself more aggressively. As the toy slips further and further into his ass, I find my own strokes getting rougher and more determined. I’m only just aware of how hard I’m breathing when Darren’s voice comes softly from the screen.
“Come for me, Sir? Please? Let me know I’m doing you proud. Let me know I’m worth keeping around. Let me know I’m your favorite whore.” His hair is clinging to his forehead, most likely because he’s sweating a little, and his face is an amazing blend of slack and joy as he begs me for my approval. “Please?” he gasps softly, and it’s this one syllable, thick with hunger and desperation, that pushes me over the edge.
“Oh, fuck,” I groan, my lungs refusing to stay inflated long enough for me to catch my breath. “That’s a good little slut, Darren. Good little whore.” I reach for my t-shirt and use it to clean myself off without looking, since that would mean taking my eyes off of the screen. “I have the best little whore there is, don’t I?”
“I’d like to hope so, Sir,” Darren gasps, his chest rising and falling faster and faster as both of his hands become more consumed with their respective duties.
“Whose little bitch are you, whore?” I ask, still hungry for everything he’s doing.
“I’m your bitch, Sir. I’m just a worthless piece of property that belongs only to you, and I’m so thankful you‘ve decided that I-“ he breaks off, a strangled cry escaping him as his hips buck sharply and he begins to come in thick, white bursts. “That I’m worthy of the honor,” he whimpers, pulling Christopher out and falling to the bed on his side once he’s finally stopped shaking. From this angle, the sweat on his forehead is easier to see, and I’m surprised at just how damp he is. There’s a kind of aura of broken contentment surrounding him, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so much at peace.
“Thank you, Chris,” he whispers, sounding like a quieter version of his usual self. “I needed that, I think.”
I’m not really sure just what he might mean by that, but I’m also a little too spent to care. “You’re welcome, Darren. I think I might have needed it, too, even if I wasn’t aware of it.”
“I’m glad,” he laughs softly. “See? I told you this would be a win-win.”
“Hrm,” I hum noncommittally. “Darren?”
“Yeah?”
“I think I might be able to get back to sleep, now.”
“Good night, then - even if it is seven in the morning.”
“Good night, Darren,” I laugh back. “We’ll talk again soon, okay?”
“Of course we will. Sleep well, for as long as you’re able, Chris.”
“I have a feeling I will,” I say, disconnecting the call and folding my laptop shut. I drift off to sleep within minutes, and when I wake up just after noon, I can’t remember the last time I felt so rested.
Featured in this story:
Christopher - the cobalt blue glass dildo that Chris buys for Darren.
Squidward - the tentacle dildo Chris saw in the drawer.
Eugene, the plug Darren wears on cam.
The lube Chris finds so objectionable.
Lose Weight
Title: We Call It Master And Servant (Made To Be Broken 4/10)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4,300
Pairing: Chris/Darren. Kind of. ;)
Warning(s): Domination and submission. Brief mention of tentacles.
Spoilers: Oh dear god, no.
Summary: Chris finds something unexpected while at Darren’s. Darren is mortified, but in a really good way.
Notes: Starts off really talky, but I promise, there is porn to be found. Trust me. Big thanks go out to erisgregory for helping me solve the biggest problem I had with this part (she's my hero, you don't even know) and whenidance for assuring me that the porn was, in fact, porny enough and worked the way I was hoping it did. Oh, yeah - this all begins right after the tour’s ended, in case you need the timeline to make sense.
No one in their right mind would call me before eight o’clock on a weekend. That’s the first thing that springs to mind when the buzzing of my Blackberry wakes me up. I give a glance to the bedside alarm clock and mutter a few choice words under my breath as I answer the phone. “Whoever this is,” I snarl, not even bothering to check the caller ID “you’d better have a damn good reason for waking me up at this hour.”
“Dude, it’s like, almost ten. I hadn’t pegged you for a slacker.”
How did I not already know? “Darren,” I say, trying my best to remain calm and polite “it may be almost ten where you are, but it’s like, six thirty over here. I was on set until three, so you’d better have a really good reason for waking me up this early.”
“Oh, shit - Chris, I’m sorry. I’m just so used to all the traveling that I’ve almost forgotten that time zones exist, you know? Look, I’ll let you go. Just call me when you wake up, okay?” He sounds genuinely apologetic, and I’m more than slightly infuriated with myself for not being more infuriated with him.
“No, Darren, it’s okay. I’m already awake. Damage is done. I probably wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep now if I tried, so might as well let me know what you had to say while you have the chance.”
“Uh, we passed an alpaca farm on our way here, and it made me think of you?”
“Seriously, Darren? You called me at six thirty in the morning to tell me you saw an alpaca farm?”
“It sounds so stupid when you put it like that.”
“As opposed to the brilliant way you phrased it? Honestly, Darren, I’ve reworded it about a dozen times in my head, and not one of them sounds less than completely ridiculous.”
“Yeah, well, you-you’re completely…ridiculous,” Darren stammers, clearly aware that I’m right, but unwilling to admit defeat. “Still…they were really cool-looking alpacas. I tried getting a picture to send you, but we may have been going a couple or thirty miles above the speed limit, so it just came out as kind of one big alpaca-colored blur. Alpaca’s kind of a funny word, isn’t it? I just like saying it. Alpaca. AL-paca. Al-PACK-a. Alpa-“
“Do you have a point, Darren? Or is this just going to be another installment of ‘Darren Thinks He’s Cuter Than He Really Is?’”
“Hey,” Darren yelps, clearly playing the part of the wounded soul to the hilt. “I’ll have you know there are tons of internet fan girls who would be more than happy to spend hours making a very convincing argument for my cuteness.”
“You really are a whore, you know that?” I ask, and give a small laugh in spite of myself. “That’s it, really? Alpacas?”
“Well…” he trails off for a second. “That, and your last e-mail sounded like you were kind of upset. I guess I just wanted to check and see if you were doing okay.”
I let out a sigh and sit up, my back propped against my headboard. “It’s…okay, I guess,” I say, picking at a loose thread on my comforter. “One of the actresses is trying to play the diva card, despite no one having a clue who she is. One of the producers is pushing for some really offensive re-writes. Another actor broke his leg in a mosh pit over the weekend, forcing us to either write it into the script and completely re-storyboard his scenes or re-cast the part with zero time to do either, and to top it all off, we lost some of the funding, so the whole production’s basically in jeopardy, at this point, and holy run on sentence, this is why I never talk to anyone before eight if I can help it.” I run a hand across my face and take a deep breath. “It’ll all get sorted out sooner or later. It has to. I’m not really in the habit of failing, and I don’t intend to start.”
“Somehow,” Darren begins, “I have a feeling you’re right. You’re kind of a force of nature. If you say it’s going to be okay, it probably will be, even if just by sheer force of your own will.”
“Well, that is how Glee got picked up,” I joke, feeling slightly more human than when I answered the phone. “How’s the tour going? Where are you, even?”
“Pittsburgh. We just got to the hotel about an hour ago, and we’ve got most of the day before sound check. I actually got my own room this time, so I thought I’d take advantage of the privacy and give you a call to check in.”
“Oh,” I say, more than a little confused. Darren and I are friends, but we’re not really the sort who merit check-ins upon arrival, much less privacy.
“Well, check in, and say thank you for your very kind and thoughtful gift.”
“Oh. That.” Suddenly, the privacy makes a lot more sense. “Well, after seeing how much your stash resembled a twelve year old girl’s hope chest, I had to make sure you had at least one toy that I wouldn’t be embarrassed to fuck you with.”
“Hey,” he says, sounding almost convincingly wounded. “There is nothing wrong with any of my toys. Don’t get all high and mighty with me just because I like to have a little fun.”
“Darren,” I sigh, “one of your toys is shaped like a tentacle. I’m pretty sure that shoots straight past ‘fun,’ and right toward ‘ridiculous.’”
“I’ll have you know that all that texture on it does absolutely insane things going in and out. I’ll let you borrow it sometime. Then, you’ll see how wrong you were to judge, and you’ll be begging me to get you one for your very own.”
“Okay, one? Ew. No offense, Darren, but I think we need to establish rule seven - nothing that’s ever been up your ass ever gets anywhere near mine. It just seems kind of unhygienic.”
Darren laughs a little, and I find myself thinking for the first time about how nice this arrangement really is. It’s like an unspoken agreement that we’re closer friends because of it, and we’re more free to joke around with one another than we were before. It’s almost as if sharing this secret means we can share our other secrets, too. “Fair enough, I guess. Hey, you use Skype, don’t you?”
“Yeah, to talk to my sister,” I say. “Why?”
“My phone’s about to die if I don’t give it a rest and stick it on the charger, but I’m kind of having fun annoying you. I thought that maybe, if you were up for it, we could harness the power of the internets.”
“Internet doesn’t need to be pluralized, Darren.”
“Lies! It totally does. Anyway, that’s not an answer. Gonna’ log on and let me bug you for a little longer?”
“Fine,” I groan, grabbing my laptop from where I left it on my nightstand the night before. “Give me a few minutes to get it loaded up, okay?”
“Dude, I think my phone’s about to die, like, any second. Just tell me your screen name, and I’ll send you a request right now. I checked my e-mail before I called you, so my computer’s all ready to go.”
“MisterLovettsPieShop - all words fully spelled out and without any spaces or punctuation.” I hear some muffled clacking on the other end, and assume he’s sending the request. “How will I know who you are?”
“Oh,” he chuckles “you’ll know. Believe me. But for now, I need to go. I’ll request the call as soon as I see that you’re online, okay?”
“Sure thing, Darren. Talk to you in a bit,” I say, and disconnect the call. It only takes a few minutes for my laptop to boot up, and once Skype loads, there’s a call from…MisterLovettsWhoreShop?
Oh, dear.
I cringe a little as I accept the call, and sure enough, Darren’s face fills the screen just moments later. “Hey,” he calls out, clearly bouncing up and down a little, even though he’s so close that all I can see is his face. “Long time, no see!”
“It’s been positively ages,” I deadpan. “A whole, what? Five days, I think?”
“I’m wounded, Chris. It’s been six, and you know it. Is the picture working for you? I can’t see you. Can you see me?”
“Of course I can see you, Darren. You’re so close to the screen, I can practically count your eyelashes.”
“Well, then, I’ll save you the trouble. I’ve got about a hundred and sixty-five on my left and a hundred and eighty on my right, give or take a few. I have been told by very reputable sources that this is higher than average, and I take it as further proof that I am truly an exceptional human being.”
“Yes, Darren. You’re exceptionally annoying. Now, are you going to back away from the screen a little, or am I going to have to throw a sheet over it to distract me from the extreme close-up on your face?”
“Fair enough,” he says, backing away slowly enough that it takes a bit before I register the fact that he’s not wearing any clothes. “So,” he grins, “I was thinking we could maybe have some fun, if you were up for it.”
“Wouldn’t that technically be breaking rules four and five?”
Darren tilts his head off to the side. “Refresh my memory. Which ones are those?”
“Rule four is only at your place, and rule five is that we’re equals whenever we’re not…wherever we’re playing.”
“Well,” he begins, “since I’m touring right now, this hotel room is kind of like my temporary home, so that takes care of rule four. If rule four is taken care of, then that makes this an appropriate place to play around, and if we’re playing around, there’s no need to be equals. See? All fair and in accordance with the rules.” He flashes a grin and wiggles an eyebrow in a mock-seductive manner “besides, I think you broke one of those first, what with calling me a whore and telling me to wash off my stink from over the phone.”
I blush a little, and I’m kind of thankful I haven’t turned on my camera. “You’re right, and I apologize. It was out of line, and I shouldn’t have gone there.”
“No,” he rushes, his face a mask of panic. “Dude, Chris, I liked that. It may have technically been outside of the rules, but it was so perfect. It was just another little sign that you really get this, and you’re not just dicking around.”
“So words are okay, provided no one else can hear, of course?”
“Yeah, I think.”
“Good to know,” I say, shoving another pillow behind my back and getting a little more comfortable. “So if I were to tell you right now that I always knew you were a dirty little slut who was can barely exist if he’s not putting on a show, that would be perfectly fine, right?” I ask with a grin of my own, already sure of the answer.
“More than fine,” Darren grins back, running a hand down his chest and tracing the lines of his curves with his fingertips. “Any requests?”
“Well, first of all,” I sigh, feeling myself slip into the proper role, “I’d like to request that the next time you take up my time with this, you be a little more prepared with some ideas of your own. I know your little whore brain probably isn’t capable of it, but you do need to at least try to keep my attention, you know.”
“Oh, but I did have some ideas, Sir.” Darren leans back a little and spreads his legs just enough for me to see the flared end of a plug sticking out of his asshole. “Like how much it might please you if you found out that I put this in just before I called.”
“Whether or not I’m pleased will depend on how big it is and how much I think you had to work to keep it in. Take it out and let me see.”
“If you say so, Sir,” he purrs, giving a small push with his hips as he pulls the plug out with one hand. He holds it up for my approval, placing his other hand up beside it as if to offer a comparison. It’s not very big, but it’s still a decent size. It’s made of glass, and mostly clear, with a green center. It’s really quite tame, by his usual standards.
“Is that the only thing you brought to amuse me with?” I ask. “If so, I think I might disconnect. It’s a nice little effort, but I really think your ass would agree with me that you need a lot more than that before you can be accused of not slacking off in your duties.”
“Actually,” he begins “I do have something else with me, and I think you might approve.” His hand disappears beneath a nearby pillow, only to reappear wrapped around a deep blue shaft. “This was what I really wanted to show you, Sir. I wanted to show you how thankful I am for the gift you’ve given me, and prove myself worthy of your attention.”
It’s Christopher, the dildo I bought him just before he left. It looks bigger than I’d expected, the blue glass brighter than the pictures on the website had led me to believe. “I’d love to see you try,” I say in carefully measured tones, doing my best to not let on how much I’ve wanted to see just this happen “but I’ve got my doubts that you can.”
Darren uses his free hand to pick the plug back up again, and he begins to press it back inside. I’m just about to protest and tell him that it’s not good enough, when he clamps his legs together and begins to rock his hips back and forth. From the way his eyes drift shut and small sounds of pleasure begin to escape his throat, it’s clear that the rocking is making the plug move just enough to make a serious difference. He slides the hand he used to insert the plug up to his cock and begins to tease himself. Not enough to really get hard, but enough to make it clear that he’s aroused.
Before I can make any suggestions, Darren lifts Christopher to his face and allows his mouth to fall slack before slowly dragging its head against the inside of his lower lip. I can tell the inside of his mouth is kind of dry, because it tugs on the end of his lip a little, held on by the friction. “Is this okay, Sir?” he asks, breathlessly, and I nod to myself before I answer.
“Keep doing what you’re doing, whore. It amuses me to see what you think is sexy.” “It totally is, by the way,” I think to myself. “I know you’ve spent a lot of time overworking your sad little whore brain over this, so enjoy it while I allow it.”
“Yes, Sir,” Daren murmurs, slipping Christopher lower to trace random patterns against his chest. He brushes it against one hardened nipple, and he gives a little shudder.
“What do you want to do with it, slut?”
Darren tightens his grip and appears to fall into himself a little as his hips thrust again and he gives a groan at the new angle the plug has apparently found inside of him. “W-want to suck it,” he gasps, his breathing becoming more uneven and the hand on his dick becoming more determined in its movement. “Please tell me I have your permission to suck it.”
“If you’re that desperate for it, you might as well shove it in your dirty little mouth. You’ll just do it as soon as I walk away, so you might as well do it while I’m still here. That way, I can see just how much you love being my little bitch.” I pause for a second, trying to decide just how far I can take things. “You are my little bitch, aren’t you, Darren?”
“God, yes,” he whispers, almost too low for his laptop’s microphone to pick up. “I’m so your bitch, Sir.”
“Then suck my cock for me, whore. Take it nice and deep and tell me how good it tastes.” I stir a little, doing my best to get more comfortable. I’ve been hard for a while now, and having the laptop on my thighs is starting to get a little uncomfortable. I try shifting in different ways before I realize that my best bet is really just to rest the computer on the bed beside me and lie back down so I can stretch out.
He gives a small noise of pleasure as he takes the toy back to his mouth. He spends a lot of time focusing on the head, just lapping softly at the tip and running it over his lips. The whole effect is making me squirm in a not entirely unpleasant way when he lifts his eyes to the screen and addresses me in a more conversational tone.
“Chris?”
“Yes, Darren?” I ask, doing my best to sound cool.
“I want to ask you a question, and I want you to answer me honestly, okay?”
God fucking damn it, why does he have to chose now to get curious? “Yeah, sure, what’s up?”
“Are you…” he trails off, “are you touching yourself? While I’m doing this, I mean.”
I groan inwardly, pissed beyond words that he had to go there. “No, Darren, I’m not. Rest assured that, true to rule number two, I am fully clothed and I’m keeping my hands to myself.”
“Oh,” he says, pausing for a moment. “I hadn’t really thought about that when I suggested this.”
“Is there something wrong with that?” I ask him, suddenly confused.
“It’s just, I mean…” he hesitates for a second, dropping Christopher on the bed beside him and taking his hand off his dick. “I meant it when I said that part of what gets me off is knowing that else is getting pleasure out of it. I can’t really see you right now, so I don’t really have any way of knowing that I’m doing things right.” He breaks for a second, then lets out the next sentence in a rush. “IguessI’msayingthatI’dreallylikeitifIcouldhearyougetoffsoIknowI’mdoingagoodjob,okay?”
“You what?” I ask, thoroughly unconvinced that he just said what I think he said.
“I want,” he says, slipping back into the role of the good little servant, “to know that I’m pleasing you, Sir. Please let me know that I’m pleasing you.”
“Okay,” I breathe, before I’m even aware I’m saying anything. I reach below the sheets to push my pajama pants down my legs and kick my feet out of them when they get near enough my ankles. Then, feeling slightly ridiculous for sitting there in just my t-shirt, I pull it over my head as well, feeling strangely exposed, even though I know that no one can see me.
Darren begins to work Christopher over with more enthusiasm, his saliva making the glass shine brighter in the light that’s filtering in through the window behind him. His hips begin to roll faster and faster, and the strokes on his dick become more urgent and frenzied.
My own touches are fairly light, still not entirely sure about doing this when I know someone else can hear. I start off slow, tracing small circles around one of my nipples and lightly brushing the fingertips of my other hand against my dick as I turn to lie on my side and face the screen better.
“You started off strong, whore, but I think you need to work a little harder if you want me to stick around.”
Darren raises an eyebrow as he looks back at the screen, and the next thing I know, Christopher disappears between his lips. Not completely, of course, but a surprising percentage of him, as Darren tilts his head so far back that I begin to wonder if he ever attempted to train as a sword swallower. From the looks of things, I think he’d be pretty damn good at it. His jaw drops a little, and I can see the muscles in his throat clench as he fights the urge to gag. Another groan escapes him as he raises his eyes to stare into the screen and slowly removes Christopher, now wet and shiny from its time in his throat. “I can do better, Sir,” he purrs, and there’s not a fiber in my body that doubts he can.
He reaches back between his legs and removes Eugene with a little grunt. Reaching back under the same pillow where he’d retrieved Christopher earlier, he produces a bottle of that same awful lube and makes quick work of applying it before he begins to lightly prod at his asshole with the shiny blue tip. “Do you want me to take your cock, Sir? Do you want to hear me beg you to let me take it harder, to tell you I wish you were here to fuck me harder than I can fuck myself?”
“Yes,” I breathe, wrapping my hand around myself and pumping gently as I feel myself harden more completely. “That’s my dick, and you need to remember that, whore. When you take that toy, you’re taking me, and you’re only allowed the honor because I’ve decided you’re now my property. You know that, don’t you? That your ass belongs to me, now? That it’s mine to do with as I please, and you have no say in the matter?”
“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir. It’s an honor, Sir,” the words sound clipped as they come out of him, and he takes a sharp breath as he pushes the head - and only the head - inside.
“You know I did you a favor by using the other toys on you, don’t you? That I lowered myself to your level to use them?” I pause for a second to take a breath and stroke myself harder. “That’s why I bought you your little present, you know. So you’d have something I’d consider worth my time. Something that didn’t look like it would have been at home in a twelve year old girl’s room. Something I wouldn’t be embarrassed to fuck you with. That’s why it’s my dick, and you’d better not ever forget it.” Darren’s head falls back with a moan as he slides Christopher further inside himself and jerks himself more aggressively. As the toy slips further and further into his ass, I find my own strokes getting rougher and more determined. I’m only just aware of how hard I’m breathing when Darren’s voice comes softly from the screen.
“Come for me, Sir? Please? Let me know I’m doing you proud. Let me know I’m worth keeping around. Let me know I’m your favorite whore.” His hair is clinging to his forehead, most likely because he’s sweating a little, and his face is an amazing blend of slack and joy as he begs me for my approval. “Please?” he gasps softly, and it’s this one syllable, thick with hunger and desperation, that pushes me over the edge.
“Oh, fuck,” I groan, my lungs refusing to stay inflated long enough for me to catch my breath. “That’s a good little slut, Darren. Good little whore.” I reach for my t-shirt and use it to clean myself off without looking, since that would mean taking my eyes off of the screen. “I have the best little whore there is, don’t I?”
“I’d like to hope so, Sir,” Darren gasps, his chest rising and falling faster and faster as both of his hands become more consumed with their respective duties.
“Whose little bitch are you, whore?” I ask, still hungry for everything he’s doing.
“I’m your bitch, Sir. I’m just a worthless piece of property that belongs only to you, and I’m so thankful you‘ve decided that I-“ he breaks off, a strangled cry escaping him as his hips buck sharply and he begins to come in thick, white bursts. “That I’m worthy of the honor,” he whimpers, pulling Christopher out and falling to the bed on his side once he’s finally stopped shaking. From this angle, the sweat on his forehead is easier to see, and I’m surprised at just how damp he is. There’s a kind of aura of broken contentment surrounding him, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so much at peace.
“Thank you, Chris,” he whispers, sounding like a quieter version of his usual self. “I needed that, I think.”
I’m not really sure just what he might mean by that, but I’m also a little too spent to care. “You’re welcome, Darren. I think I might have needed it, too, even if I wasn’t aware of it.”
“I’m glad,” he laughs softly. “See? I told you this would be a win-win.”
“Hrm,” I hum noncommittally. “Darren?”
“Yeah?”
“I think I might be able to get back to sleep, now.”
“Good night, then - even if it is seven in the morning.”
“Good night, Darren,” I laugh back. “We’ll talk again soon, okay?”
“Of course we will. Sleep well, for as long as you’re able, Chris.”
“I have a feeling I will,” I say, disconnecting the call and folding my laptop shut. I drift off to sleep within minutes, and when I wake up just after noon, I can’t remember the last time I felt so rested.
Featured in this story:
Christopher - the cobalt blue glass dildo that Chris buys for Darren.
Squidward - the tentacle dildo Chris saw in the drawer.
Eugene, the plug Darren wears on cam.
The lube Chris finds so objectionable.
Lose Weight