blistered lips

there is something
in the movement of my body against your skin

i feel it always.

your breath, an endless empty lyric:
that skin deep is not always lawless
nor reckless with secrets.

and so you soap your skin
and keep it slick:
you cannot have me stick after all.
and you hold your breath
like liquid gold might pour from your lips
if you opened wide and whispered the truth.

still I stay close
and still i move my body against your skin
trying to reach you around your corners.

around the corners of you
where on your other side
i will grind mud into your pores
and smack your greedy mouth
again and again and again.

until you scream out.
scream, scream, scream.
and we both see
and you know
(as if you don’t already)
that the secrets of your skin
were only rumors started by you
and the secrets of your held tongue
were merely widely held beliefs.

It is in front of your face. You can smell it. It is cock. It is the cock you are going to suck tonight. Perhaps it is a cock that will fuck you, too. You have no say. You are, after all, only a Cock-Pig.

Once you were a man. You lived a free life, had a fairly successful career. You worked hard, you played hard. Lots of young, hot women. Footloose and fancy free, as they say, living what you thought was the good life.

But then you met Krista. Tall, beautiful and wickedly sexy, she was different somehow. Different than the girls you usually bedded and forgot about. At first, it was just filth whispered into your ears as she fucked you. Then it was porn while she sucked your cock. The porn started getting kinkier, freakier. And you couldn’t get enough, could you? You were obsessed, wanted to be with her all the time.

And that is how she began training you, although you were too stupid to know it at the time. Even now when you think of before and now, you’re not sure exactly how she did it. Soon, though, you began living your weekends in a cage in her basement, your cock in a device that kept it hard, yet wouldn’t permit orgasm. You were an animal.

Krista’s Cock-Pig. That is what she started calling you. She would come to you with a strap-on and make you suck it. Then she would promise orgasm, that she would remove your Cock-Pig chastity device if you bent over and spread your ass and begged for her big, girl-dick. And you did. You would have done anything to cum. The thing is, just like she knew would happen, you started liking it, didn’t you? You started to like taking that big, fat strap-on up your ass.

It wasn’t long before she’d tricked you into leaving your job and turning over everything you had –your money, your house, your car, your savings– to her. She took away your life as a free man and put you in the cage full time. You became her 24/7 Cock-Pig.

That was when she began cum-training you. You would hear her upstairs fucking some guy –you never knew them, at least at first– and your dick would twitch and strain against the chastity device. Later she would come down to you. She’d taunt you, show you her swollen pussy lips. “Remember how tight this pussy is, Cock-Pig,” she’d ask, pushing on her stomach, causing milky cream to drip out of her slit, down the crack of her ass. “Remember when I used to let you fuck me?” You did remember and it made you crazy hot.  So easy for her to make you eat her out, lap up all that cream pie.  You would have done anything to get your chastity device off at that point.

Then she started bringing you down cups of cum, even a bowl of cum one time. “Come here, Cock-Pig,” Krista would say, putting the bowl on the floor right inside your cage. “Crawl over here and get your cup of cum, Cock-Pig. Come lap it up and I will take off your device for a little bit. Maybe I’ll even give you a good, hard fucking.”

And so it went. You really were some new low form of animal, Krista’s Cock-Pig.  But Krista had a plan.  And you soon learned you could even go lower.

“Oh, Cock-Pig,” you heard her calling as she came down the stairs. Only this time  she wasn’t alone.  There was a second set of footsteps.  Heavy footsteps.

And then she was there in front of you, a man beside her. A very big man with his very big cock in his fist. “Now I’m going to show you what a Cock-Pig is really good for,” Christa cooed, opening your cage. “Crawl out here now.” Her voice was as sexy as ever, but there was a breathiness to it you hadn’t caught before. This was exciting her. This was where she’d been leading you since the beginning.

“Suck it, Cock-Pig. Suck this big fat cock. When the cock cums, you get to cum.”

And so you sucked it. When he was getting close to cumming, Krista removed your chastity device and whispered in your ear, “When that cock cums, you can cum. From now on the only time you will ever cum is when you are sucking a cock and it comes.” And she wrapped your own hand around your dick. “Play with it, Cock-Pig. Jerk it while you suck that cock.”

And she stayed so close that you could hear each of her breaths, smell her perfume. Soon the man was grunting, thrusting his hips, grabbing your head. And then you were taking your first load right from that swelling, jerking, squirting cock and cumming all over your own belly at the same time.

And you were finally real. You were Krista’s Cock-Pig.

You’re alone now. Here in the dark.

The smooth surface of the stainless steel tray beside your bed reflects a pinpoint of silverish light: caught from a street light somewhere outside and twisted into a lone north star, the only star here in your very small universe.

Despite the morphine drip, the dull ache between your legs is a relentless throb. The chill from the ice pack —to help control the swelling, she’d told you as she tucked it around your pereneum– has spread across your pelvis and thighs, but the numbness it provides seems to exacerbate rather than relieve. Oh, Miss Kimberly, I love you so much, you think to yourself.

And you do love her. But now you are alone. Kimberly has left and you are lying here in the quiet of this dark room with a body that is changed, altered–deformed forever at Kimberly’s bequest. She’d told you that it would be the ulitimate proof of your unmitigated devotion. Proof that you belonged only to her and would always do whatever she required of you.

From the beginning you’d told her that you would do anything for her–anything to prove your love, your adoration, your complete capitulation to her superiority over you. And your precocious blonde Goddess –after having taken control of your money, cuckolded you relentlessly and insisted upon so many smaller and daily humiliations– had eventually asked of you the ultimate sacrifice.

Drifting and floating in your opiate haze, you hear her voice.

You, sweet man, are incapable–absolutely unable in anyway–of having normal sexual relations with a woman. You know it and I know it. If fact, anybody who knows you knows it. You’re “unfuckable.”

It’s lucky for you I came along  and  gave you some direction in your life.  In the manhood department you are a big fucking zero.  But as a slave, well, I’ve done an excellent job of training you.   And you need to prove you are grateful.   There’s only one way to really show me you are sincere:  Give up those useless little snot-balls of yours.  

Of course, she was right.  You knew even as she spoke that you would give Kimberly what she wanted.