by Anthology
Ever since I got back from Afghanistan and met her for dinner, she’s been testing me. Then, it was teasing my cock under the table while she was wearing sharp stilettos, bringing me to the very edge of climax, right there in the restaurant. Now, she occasionally takes over the role of my ex-commanding officer and treats me like some kind of new recruit.
“Now drop and give me twenty. No, scratch that. Make it forty.”
It was clichéd, totally unoriginal, but it got me harder than I’d ever been in my life. After so long taking orders without question, it was impossible to change that aspect of my personality, which is why I’m so grateful that Cassie came into my life—permanently—when she did. She took over the role of the army, directing me here, there and everywhere, helping me to move forward, to adjust to civilian life. Together, we took baby steps, and when I felt able to cope, she scaled back her bossiness and reserved it strictly for the bedroom. Or, you know, anywhere else we had sex. Which was everywhere.
It worked perfectly. Day-to-day life was mine to control, to live. But as soon as we slipped into a scene, I was completely submissive—just the way I liked it.
I closed my eyes as the sight of the carpet coming closer, then moving farther away, was in danger of making me feel queasy. I obviously wasn’t working hard enough, because a spike-heeled boot settled into the small of my back and pressed down. I hesitated for a millisecond, gathering all the strength I had, and continued with the press-ups. It was more difficult, of course, but it was also much more rewarding. Not to mention arousing. The shards of pain generated by the boot’s heel sliced through my body, making my blood pump faster, harder, twisting my pleasure dial up to eleven. Thankfully my boxer shorts and jeans were tight enough to keep my cock under control, otherwise it would have gotten in the way as I lowered myself to the carpet.
I concentrated on keeping track of how many push-ups I’d done. If I fucked up and miscounted, I would be punished. And as much as I loved the punishments, I loved my Mistress and her delectable body more, and the sooner I satisfied her whims, the sooner she’d let me loose to play with her, pleasure her. Make her come.
“Very good,” she eventually said, placing her foot back on the carpet. “You’re getting so good at these impromptu fitness tests, Holden. I’ll have to think of something different in future. More challenging.” She fixed me with a stern gaze.
“Yes, Mistress. Whatever you say.”
“Of course you’ll do whatever I fucking say!” Like lightning, her hand left her side and slapped my face. The heat and the humiliation zipped immediately to my groin.
“Please,” I murmured. Then louder. “Please!”
“Please what?” she said, putting a finger beneath my chin and forcing my head up. Her eyes flashed. My cock throbbed.
“Please can I... touch you, Mistress?”
Clearly as aroused as I was, her expression softened just a little, and she gave a curt nod. “You may, slave, but only because you’ve been so good. Don’t expect me to let you off this easily all the time.”
“I won’t, Mistress, I promise.”
“Fine. Take off your clothes, then lie on your back. I want to see that stiff cock of yours. And then I’m going to ride it.”
I gulped, then hurried to do her bidding. The anticipation, the excitement made me clumsy, and I got my head momentarily stuck in my T-shirt, then became all fingers and thumbs when it came to undoing my jeans and getting them off. Cassie crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently. Seconds later I was in the position she’d commanded.
“About damn time, too.” She reached down and undid the flap in her leather outfit that gave access to the heaven between her legs. Then she straddled my stomach, her slickness smearing against my abs. It took every bit of willpower I possessed not to grab her and impale her on my cock.
She crawled up my body and positioned herself over my head. “Lick me. When you’ve made me come, I’ll allow your cock inside me.”
“Yes, Mistress.” Immediately, I lifted my head to reach her and stuck out my tongue. She hadn’t given me permission to use my hands, so I folded them behind my neck for support. The first taste of her tangy sweetness was sublime, and I was sure that if I could see my cock, I’d glimpse pre-cum seeping from its tip. God, how I wanted her.
I pleasured her the best way I knew how. There was no teasing my Mistress—she wouldn’t allow it. So I didn’t delay; I went straight for her clit, flicking and circling it with my tongue until it swelled, then sucked it into my mouth and pulled until she came apart.
There was a moment when she stopped being a Mistress, my Mistress, and simply became a woman thrust into oblivion. “Fuck... oh fuck... yes, yes, yes!” She continued to swear and babble nonsense as her pleasure washed over her.
I didn’t move a muscle. All I wanted was her hot, tight, sheath around my shaft and I wasn’t going to do a damn thing to jeopardize that.
My good behaviour was rewarded. As soon as she recovered sufficiently, Cassie shifted back down my body, grasped my cock in her hand and pointed it at her entrance. Then, without preamble, she dropped down onto it. One second I was out, the next second I was in. My body and brain couldn’t quite catch up with what was happening, and were further confused when she began to ride me, fast and furious.
I was helpless. All I could do was lie there, almost like some kind of sex machine, rather than a human being. She was fucking me, but using my cock for her own pleasure. I still didn’t know if she was going to allow me to come—she’d said I could get inside her, but not that I’d be allowed to climax.
It was torture and perfection all at once. It didn’t matter whether she gave me permission to climax or not. My Mistress was on me—in more ways than one—and she was happy. And when she was happy, I was happy.
For me, that was heaven.
Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of, and an Amazon bestseller), Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award, and an Amazon bestseller) and The Persecution of the Wolves. Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 150 publications to her name. She owns Erotica For All (http://eroticaforall.co.uk), and is one eighth of The Brit Babes (http://www.thebritbabes.co.uk)
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Nutt Cracker
by
Skye Turner
Skye Turner Copyright ©2017
All rights reserved.
Dedication:
For those who’ve battled testicular cancer and won and also for those who lose the battle, but will always be remembered with fondness and a smile.
Chapter One
Spradley
“You’re live on the air with Spanky Nutts! Tell me, what’s cracking today?” I mutter into the microphone in front of me as I chuckle at my own whit.
My producer, Jamison, rolls his eyes from the booth across from me and I grin at him as I flip him off.
“My neighbor is a fat ass, yet, here she is pacing around her front yard in small ass shorts all damn day. She keeps bending over while she looks at me over her shoulder. Stuff that shouldn’t jiggle makes waves while tight denim gasps for air as it’s swallowed by her bushy snatch. Those big ole titties of hers are the only thing she has going for her. All the eyes she throws my way… it’s enough to make me hurl, man.”
My own eyes roll as I flick the lint from my pants. “Sounds like she’s trying to catch your eye there fella a
nd it seems to me like she’s caught it.” I snort. “You sure are noticing the denim being swallowed by her snatch and her big ole titties, aren’t you?! Maybe the problem is that you want to be the denim. So get off your ass and march over there. You could be disappearing into pleasure town by tonight. Or you could just keep bitching and moaning to me while you perv over the luscious neighbor. Choice is yours…”
The caller sputters into the phone, “Now just a damn minute, you cock sucker…”
Laughing, I flip the switch to disconnect the call. “That’s all the time we have for today. Tune in tomorrow for more of the Spanky Nutts Show… Why spank your own nuts when there are so many others willing to do it for you?”
Jamison watches me as I remove the headphones and toss them on the desk with his eyes raised and a smirk on his face. His voice comes through the booth as he flips on his own mic, “I swear I have no idea how you get laid with the shit you spout. One day, one of the people you piss off every day is going to show up here and beat your ass, you know?!”
Laughing, I shrug as I open the studio door. “Cause the ladies love assholes.” My brow furrows as I grimace. “Always have and always will. You treat ‘em like shit and they flock to you. You treat them right and you’re the loser who stays in the friend zone while the assholes get all the pussy.” Turning back to him, I wink. “Besides, I’m not quite the asshole I present on air. You know that, dick.”
He laughs and stands as I close the studio door behind me. As he shuts down the board, he chuckles. “Yeah, I know. I’d have to kick your ass if you were.”
Leaning against the door frame, I stare at him until he looks up. “Really? Seems to me, that me being that asshole makes us both a shit ton of money. We’re the top syndicated talk radio show for three years running because of me…”
He snorts. “And me… without my producing your ass and fielding your crazy calls, you wouldn’t be quite the ‘Radio God’ you are.”
I nod in acknowledgement of his comment. He’s right. We’re a team and we kick some major ass as such. I’m the voice with the wit that brings in the listeners and the calls and he’s the brilliance that works behind the scenes with an occasional pop on. Together, we are the “Spanky Nutts Show.”
My stomach growls and reminds me that I haven’t eaten a thing since the bar last night. “Let’s go grab some food? I’m fucking starving.”
He shakes his head at me as he laughs. “You can’t. You have your mandatory yearly physical, remember? I did mine last week and you’ve rescheduled yours three times. The money says you get it today or else, remember?!”
Shit! I forgot all about it. Purposely, I’m sure. Doctor’s offices creep me the hell out. They always have.
I’m extremely fit and I take care of myself because I’m way too self-centered to get fat now that I’m on top of the world. I plan to stay here. Life as a scrawny loser in high school was hell… I busted my nuts to carve out this masterpiece and no way in fucking hell I’m slacking and letting it go to shit now.
Groaning, I mutter. “Fuck. I forgot. What time is the appointment anyway? How long does the damn office stay open?”
Jamison smirks. “What am I, your secretary? Should I wear a short skirt and fuck me heels tomorrow?”
My gaze flicks over his burly build and I laugh. “Please do. That shit would make us some bank!” I snort. “Hell, we could make a calendar and sell it. I’m certain it would be an instant success.”
He growls, “Yeah, like that would ever happen. Why don’t you do that?!” Mock batting his eyes at me, he laughs. “You’re so freaking hot, Spanky. I mean like even the dudes that call in would beat that shit for you.”
“No thank you. Unless it’s these puppies…” I hold up my hands, “or a fine chick with a great rack, my nuts don’t get touched.”
He laughs again and looks at the watch on his wrist, some ridiculously expensive piece of frivolousness that I helped him pay for I’m sure, “Your appointment is in forty minutes, dude. You’re the last appointment of the day. You better haul ass or else you’ll be late and then you’ll be called into the principal’s office for a sit down.”
Waggling my brows, I reply. “Yeah well I’ll let June reprimand me. Not like it would be the first time. She’s always good for a workout.”
Jamison glances around quickly and shakes his head. “Shut the hell up, Rad. If people knew you’d fucked the boss lady around here… yeah, just shut the fuck up moron.”
He’s right. It’s not like it’s a thing anyway. We’ve fucked a few times and once she blew me in the studio after hours, but it’s not a big deal. No reason to ruffle the feathers around here when it’s just a casual thing that’s happened four or five times. People talk and while I don’t give a shit what people think, or I pretend I don’t, I don’t want anyone questioning why I’m where I am.
I fucking worked my ass off to get here.
Tossing my keys from hand to hand, I nod. “You’re right. I wasn’t thinking.” Turning, I walk backwards as we head down the hall towards the elevator bank. “So, want to grab some grub after my appointment? It can’t take more than a couple of hours, right?”
Jamison laughs. “Something like that.” He nods down. “Hope you cleaned that shit up. You know you have to cough today.”
I have to cough today?
Fuck, my nuts have to be checked! I hate that part. Only time my shit ever gets touched by a dude who isn’t me is when the doctor cups my nuts and says, “Cough “once a year.
“It’s always clean. Why you worrying about my shit, Jamison? Are you switching teams on me?”
He gasps and flips me off. “Nope. I’m not worried about your shit. Your dick, nuts, and anything you have going on is your business. I’m just fucking with you. Only shit I care about is my own, fucktard.”
He’s sputtering and it’s hilarious. Even though I know he isn’t gay, fucking with him is just too fun.
Laughing, I punch the elevator button with my thumb before doing a quick dance move and pointing at my body. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I always knew you wanted some of this.” It dings to show it’s arrived and I see Jamison’s eyes widen and his lips tighten.
A cocky voice comes from over my shoulder. “Well, well, well, sounds like I just interrupted something. Don’t mind me. I always knew you two were fags.”
Whirling, I see Bowie, the afternoon disc jockey for one of the local stations upstairs. He’s always a dick and always trying to start shit with me. Then again, I’m a nationally syndicated talk radio host with an award winning show and he spins top forty hits on a local channel, five days a week. He’s applied for every talk radio position available for the past two years and always gets passed over for someone more qualified or a better fit. To say he’s bitter is a gross understatement.
His cocky smirk and the fire in his eyes annoy me. “Sorry, you’re not my type, Bowie.” I flick my gaze over him rudely. “I’m not gay as you well know. My game is legendary and you’ve seen my stream of beauties. And even if I was into dudes, you wouldn’t be my type. To wear a shirt that tight, you might want to actually step inside the gym you pay that monthly membership for. I mean dad bods are great and all, sexy even to some women, but you know, not for someone who isn’t a dad and whose attitude and general disposition are exactly why you’ll never leave the local scene.
“Green isn’t your color.”
His eyes flash and his lips turn white, “For someone who’s ‘not a disgusting fag’ you sure are aware of my body and now you’re giving me fashion advice? Sounds like you’re the new Queer Eye.”
Don’t punch him, Spradley. He’s just trying to goad you.
I see Jamison’s fists clenched at his sides from the corner of my eye and quickly step between him and Bowie. “Bowie, you might want to shut up. The words fag and queer are not really something I’d think anyone with any hope at all of ever advancing their career should use. While I might not be into that lifestyle, I don’t condemn it and since you don�
��t participate in it either, according to you, it really has nothing to do with you and your opinion on it is irrelevant. There are people all over this building that would be very upset with your opinion and I’ll be damned if your small mind and ignorant attitude are going to poison this place.” I shove him back into the elevator and he looks down quickly with alarm on his face as I point at him. “I’m not going to beat your ass but if you ever say anything like that again, I will go to your boss. I’m the big dog on this campus and I will use that if you force me. Now shut the fuck up and buy bigger shirts!” He’s staring at me as his face turns purple and his nostrils flare. “We’re going to wait for the next elevator. This one has a stench.”
Stepping back, I continue to stare at him as the doors close on his mottled face. As they do, I wait a second before hitting the button again and turn to face Jamison. His face shows his rage. I shake my head. “Don’t let him get to you.”
He growls. “I hate that word.”
I mutter. “I know you do.”
As the elevator arrives and we step into it, he says, “Text me after your appointment and we’ll go grab a beer or something. Ok if I bring Rafael?”
I laugh and clap his shoulder. “Will do and sure. Your brother is always welcome to hang with us. You know I think he’s great.”
As he heads to his truck, he calls out, “Yeah, he’s pretty cool for a disgusting fag, huh?”
I call back, “Can’t change an idiot’s opinion, dude. Now I’m off to have my nuts squeezed. Wish me luck.”
As he opens his door he climbs onto the running board and yells, “Maybe a hot nurse will massage them for you after you get cracked!”
I laugh and wave my hand before giving a “thumbs up” and sliding into my Challenger. The rich leather scent fills my nose as I inhale deeply. Cranking the engine, I back out and gun it as I head down the ramp.
I wish I was going anywhere other than the doctor’s office. But hell, once I do I’ll be good for another year.
