Twenty-eight

by Piper

mc; bF; Fdom; nosex

This gets dark at the end. It probably depends on your tastes. It's also one of my first experiments with bF relationships, so maybe that's what is bringing it out of me.
I look down, surprised to find myself on my belly, like I had been crawling. The smooth concrete is cold under my fingers, and against my chest. I sit up and notice that I'm wearing my Speedo. That's odd; I usually only wear it to swim meets. When I wore it for casual swimming once, some other kid made fun of me for wearing a girl's bikini bottom. Since then I leave the thing in my locker at the pool and normally wear trunks.

“Where are you going?”

I half-spin on the floor, nearly falling over and giving myself a bit of a wedgie. I push myself up to my feet in a tangle of gangly limbs and try to subtly pull my tiny swimsuit out of my butt crack. Standing in front of me is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen, outside of my alone time online. So, maybe the most beautiful lady I have seen in real life. She has very dark brown hair, probably actually black, and she is wearing a black bikini. The bikini isn't skimpy but it's still a bikini, so I can't complain as I stare at two very obvious lumps of flesh. Of course, I begin to get a bit of a lump myself. Bad time to be in a Speedo.

“Sorry, what?” I say, fidgeting and glancing away as if she wouldn't notice where my attention had been. Flickers of questions spark in my mind. Why am I in my Speedo? Why had I been on the floor? Why am I in the boys' changing room at the pool? Why is she in the boys' changing room?

“You were crawling on the floor,” she says with a ladylike chuckle. “Where were you going?”

“I, um.” For the life of me, I can't remember. I don't even know how I got on the floor in the first place. “I don't know.”

“You know what I think?” she asks, stepping closer.

“Uh.” I take a step backwards, which is weird when I think about it. I've had probably hundreds of dreams of half-naked women – okay, fully naked women – approaching me. For some reason, though, this lady is making me nervous. Maybe because she isn't nervous. About being in the boys' locker room. In her bikini. Unless this actually is all a dream, which at this point I can't really throw out.

The woman reaches out, non-threateningly, and brushes two fingers against my arm. At first I think that she gave me a static shock. But it's not that. It's power. A jolt of power rolling through me, tensing my muscles, stopping me from moving. If she wanted to, maybe, she could stop me from breathing. Unaware of my sudden fear, or ignoring it, the lady smiles down at me and says, “I think you were modeling your cute little Speedo for me, until you got some bad thoughts back in your head. It's a good thing I managed to catch you, even if I had to knock you down.”

My arms start shaking, the only sign of my Herculean effort. No matter how hard I try, I can't push her away. The best I can do is make my arms shake. Pathetic. It probably looks like I'm scared. Well, I am scared, but I'm trying to fight back dammit. My arms don't even shake enough to break contact with her fingers. She notices the movement though, and smiles.

“Oh, do you not want to be touched?” she asks, pulling her hand away. I leap backwards, or rather, I try to. Instead, now it's my arms and legs that are both shaking. I still can't move. I thought my face was frozen but she must see something giving away my surprise because her smile twists into a smirk. “I just need to touch you to give you new commands, sweetie. The effect lasts longer and longer each time I touch you. Isn't that great?”

No, it's not fucking great. But I do think her influence is starting to lessen. My arms feel like they are moving more already. I stop fighting and stand still. If the effect does wear off, I do not want her to see it declining. I'll just have to hope it is weak enough the next time she tries to touch me. Then I can jump away, and hopefully not end up on the floor this time.

The lady bends forward, which does distracting things to her bikini top. My face goes bright red when I notice that she is looking at my Speedo. Like I can help that I have a half-chub when there's a hot lady almost naked right in front of me. My dick doesn't care that she's some kind of crazy mind controller. She giggles, a surprisingly girlish sound, and pulls down on my swimsuit. I stand helplessly as it falls to my ankles and my cock starts rearing up. Shit shit shit. Dead babies. Grandma in a bikini. My god, will you go limp you stupid thing?

I can't see her reaching, because even though I can move my eyes, my head is still angled up. But I feel her run her fingers along the length of my erection. From that simple contact, her weird power rushes into me, hot and fast, like a river of boiling water. My mind recoils but I can't move so I have no way to stop the contact. The power races through me in an instant, scalding my mind until I can't think straight. It's changing me. I can feel that, at first. Then I don't even notice. Maybe because I'm already changed. Maybe I'm numb to it. In a second or an hour, she pulls her hand away and I can move again.

I drop to my knees, heedless of the Speedo around my ankles. I angle my head all the way back, looking up at Mistress with worship in my eyes. I'm nothing, just some random boy, but Mistress took an interest in me. I have to be with her. I have to! Still looking up, I start begging, “Please, Mistress. Please, let me be your slave. I'll make you happy. I'll do anything. I want to be used for sex. You can do whatever you want to me. Just please. Please!”

“You're so cute,” Mistress says in the kind of voice you use to talk to a puppy or a baby. She reaches down and brushes my cheek. “Cum for me.”

My body tenses with the electric current of her power running through me. My cock was already hard – I was with Mistress after all – but I hadn't been touching it or anything. Yet as soon as Mistress commanded, my balls seized up and a spurt of cum shot out, followed by three progressively smaller globs. The semen splattered against the smooth concrete floor of the locker room, hot against its cold surface.

“I came, Mistress,” I say, looking up at her for approval. She smiles and I relax, relieved that I made her happy.

“Would you lick it up for me?” she asks as though genuinely curious. “We wouldn't want to leave a mess for the other swimmers today.”

“Yes, Mistress,” I say, glad to be able to obey her again already. I walk forward on my knees and then bend down over the cooling puddles of jism. Mistress makes a happy noise when I bend forward, arching my bare butt into the air, so I wiggle it a bit as I start licking the floor clean. I lap up the smaller streaks with a few strokes of my tongue. For the largest glob, I press my lips to the floor and slurp up the bulk of the salty liquid before using my tongue to siphon the rest.

When I sit back on my heels, the floor clean, Mistress is leaning over me. She is leaning down and I stare at her wonderful breasts for a moment before she puts a hand under my chin and tilts my head upward for a kiss. As our lips meet, she tastes my semen and I taste the power that streams into my body from just that simple contact. I gape at her, my mouth moving like a fish's, when she pulls back.

“You'll do,” she says. A huge grin splits my face. Mistress wants me! She turns and my eyes fall to the sway of her bikini bottoms as she starts walking away. She looks back over her shoulder and says, “Get that cute little Speedo back on. We're going outside.”

I pull on my swimsuit and hurry to Mistress' side like a puppy. She even pats my head and I shiver as her power floods my body. She leads the way around a row of lockers, and on a bench on the other side, I see Aaron Cutter sitting naked. Which makes no sense. Aaron, I mean, not the naked thing. Although, I guess the naked thing is weird too, but this is a locker room after all. Aaron is my age. Actually, we were pretty good friends until about a year ago when he moved North with his parents. It was pretty sudden and we didn't even say goodbye.

I can't think of why Aaron would be here but he does not look like he is any shape to answer questions. He's hunched forward on the bench and just kind of staring at the floor. His arms are hanging at his sides and he's drooling from his bottom lip. That's even more awkward than it sounds because he's sporting a solid erection, and his saliva is dripping almost straight down onto his cock. I stop walking, and Mistress notices my pause and stops herself.

“27 was a fun toy. He lasted longer than anyone else,” Mistress says affectionately, looking at Aaron's slumped form. She turns and looks down at me as if wondering something for the first time. “You don't mind if I use you until your brain turns to mush, do you? I'm sure you'll last quite a few months.”

“No Mistress, I don't mind,” I say earnestly. “I want to be a good sex toy. To make you happy, Mistress.”

“Good boy,” Mistress smiles and pets my head. Power streams into me with that touch, corroding my mind. A few more grains in the hourglass, a few grains closer to ending up like Aaron. But Mistress will be happy, and that's all I want. Mistress takes her hand away and continues to the locker room exit. “Okay, 28, I think it's time I met your family.”

Tools

Messages