Page 17 of Cry Baby
Across his neck.
My fingers dragged long streaks over his shoulders, the same way I painted my own skin. Biggie whimpered underneath me, and my smile grew wider. Mistress circled slowly around us, that prominent smile adorning her features once more.
“Look at you,” she murmured.
Her voice is warm again.
Pleased.
Happy.
“Why do you paint, Cry Baby? Because it is part of you.”
I didn’t answer.
She was right.
She was always right. The noise in my head softened with every stroke of my hand, and she stopped in front of me, reaching down to stroke my dick through my pants. Her hands slipped down, removing the itchy clothing, and I felt myself moan.
“Who do you belong to, Cry Baby?”
The question hit me every time she asked after—so many years of not knowing anything but Mistress. Natalie was the bane of my existence and the reason for it.
I hate her.
I love her.
I hate the way my mouth answers anyway.
“You, Mistress.”
Biggie looked up at me with a different expression in his eyes, and the glint was almost...
Amused.
Hewas mockingme.
Mistress smiled. “There’s my good dog.”
My cock deflated in her hand as a laugh rang out, and I realized it was coming from Biggie.
Biggie was laughing at me.
No.
No.
No.
Laughter was too loud.
Natalie stroked my dick faster, trying to make it come alive again.
“Cry Baby, doesn’t this excite you? Look how he grows.”
I looked down at Biggie’s dick, and he wasn’t hard at all.
Limp.
