Playing With Toys
“I want to see my tits and my pussy, cunt. Now.”
I put my book down and looked over at him. He was naked, erect, and slowly stroking himself.
And waiting. Not patiently.
Still, I hesitated. Squirmed. Blushed. Mumbled a half-hearted protest, even though I knew I was defeated before I began.
I knew what he was going to do. I knew he was just going to look. Inspect. Stare. And otherwise scrutinize my naked body.
It does not seem to matter that he’s seen it eleventy-billion times before. It does not matter that he’s seen, touched, and probably licked, every flaw, every imperfection, every mark. It doesn’t matter that I’m naked in his presence more than I’m dressed.
It just doesn’t matter. It doesn’t compare. All of those natural occurrences of viewing, of shared coupling, of mutual body exploration don’t even compare to this… this… bug-under-a-microscope experience when he just has me lie there, exposed and spread and nakedly vulnerable to his disconcerting gaze.
He gave an impatient grunt and flapped his hand at me in a hurry-it-up gesture.
Swallowing the embarrassment, I stripped, lay back, and shyly propped my legs open a bit.
Without a word, he lewdly shoved them apart, my lips spreading, cool air whispering across my dampness. He grunted in approval and reached down to tug and pull, stretching things open to an indecent level.
There’s something that happens to his face, to his eyes, something that tells me he’s not seeing me. Not the me that is a person, a woman, his. He’s not there. We’re not there together. He’s shut me off, tuned me out, turned the me that is me away. He’s seeing a cunt, a wet, exposed, vulgar piece of meat.
He climbed up between my legs, up on his knees, still stroking himself, and still no words passed between us since my initial embarrassed, quiet protests. It’d be so easy to close my eyes, to hide within myself, but I couldn’t tear myself away from the expression on his face. It was like watching someone else through a window, a peeping tom into his world.
Plus, I wanted to be there in the moment. Fully immersed in being dismissed, being nothing. I wanted, needed, to experience him discarding me.
God damn masochism. Hate feeling so raw while at the same time dragging my own mental fingernails down the abrasion.
He flicked his fingers across my clit and I jerked, moaned. For a moment, he came back, blinking at me. And then he was gone again, staring unabashed at my spread-wide cunt, his hand slowly, lazily stroking up and down his cock.
He didn’t touch me again.
I wasn’t allowed or encouraged or expected to touch him. I wasn’t really supposed to be there. Just my meat.
He wasn’t going to fuck me. He wasn’t going to make me come. I was just a tool, a living, breathing toy.
Though it felt an eternity that I laid there, spread open to his view as his hand worked himself, it likely wasn’t long before he sat upright and with a deep, guttural growl, shot sperm across my torso, my pubic mound, my tits. And then he was gone, leaving me to marinate.
Later, when he was snoring softly beside me and the ceiling fan had long-since dried me off, I pulled the sheet over my naked body and rolled to look at his sleeping face. I marveled at the simplicity. He’d left me feeling well used with hardly a touch.
Maybe the difference between men and boys isn’t just the price of their toys, but in how they play them.
~cunt
Uncategorized | kaya | 
Monday August 2nd, 2010 12:07pm
Your last sentence says it all! abby
I have been a loyal lurker of your blog for a couple of years but I finally have to comment, I love everything you write but I think this might be one of your best pieces ever!
This is the best thing you’ve ever written, on more than one level. Kudos, great job!
A great piece of written work here. And I also agree with abby, above, the last sentence says it all. Bravo for allowing us into this moment, as well as all of the others over the years.
[rq=669294,0,blog][/rq]I Think I Need A Spanking
This is why I keep coming back. I love to read everything you write, but once every so often, the two of you knock me right on my ass. Stunning.
Kelly took the words right out of my mouth.
I need to go find my Master now and pounce on him….whew!
[rq=657842,0,blog][/rq]I can smell vacation
Such an amazing piece of writing. I love it.
You speak volumes of the dynamic that exists.
Thank you for such candor.
[rq=669996,0,blog][/rq]Back in the room
Why is the first thing that comes to my mind
“Aww, that’s so sweet and romantic!”
what the hell is wrong with me?
Lils
[rq=670126,0,blog][/rq]What’s in a Word
You captured the moment perfectly, the tension, the humiliation, the objectification… You carries us along with you. That takes talent. Thank you.
[rq=671742,0,blog][/rq]Trust
When i think of M/s or D/s relationships, these are the type of moments that i think of.
*hugs*
[rq=671779,0,blog][/rq]Breaking News- Toppy-Type admits defeat!!
WHAT THEY SAID!
I read this earlier and then had to go out.. glad the chorus wrote you!
I do love that look .. it just makes me feel faint when I see it!
Nice!
[rq=680636,0,blog][/rq]Beyond the Power Grid
My man totally does this. I told him about this post and was like, “She says that he looks at her this certain way . . . ” and he finished for me “like there’s not even a person there. Like meat.” So yeah, he’s all about the fuckmeat.
HOTT!!
[rq=683730,0,blog][/rq]Batty
Kaya,
The intimacy that you conveyed in this post is unbelievable. Thank you for sharing.