Skype For Beginners by Lady Summer

Skype for Beginners
He begged me. He whined. He cajoled. He wanted to cum on Skype for me. I know it had been a while but I was not moved. Tease and denial are useful tools when a sub acts up. Besides, it had only been a week. Not long enough for my taste. He needed to experience the heaviness in his balls, the irritating perpetual woody, the yearning for an explosion. He needed to know who owned him.
I considered, then relented. “Turn on Skype, hairy bitch” I said. I could almost hear him scrabble for the mouse. The familiar bleating of a Skype call came immediately. His slyly smiling face lit up the screen. He looked over his shoulder, briefly.
You’re dressed, boy? Strip. His face grows red but he backs up and disrobes. Omg he’s wearing his Hammer pants again! Off they go.
He stands and I snicker, looking at his already snarky erection. His hands involuntarily move down and begin to tug and massage his balls, seemingly unknowingly. Hands off, boy, I say. He stops.
I ponder for a moment…what to do? Do I allow him to just jerk that juicy cock or shall we play? I do know that it seems to grow an inch longer when I have him slap it, back and forth, hard. It looks like a waterwand seeking a verdant hotspring.
Slap your cock boy. Why mince words? He begins to slap his cock. First he hesitates, and then becomes firmer. It swings and protests. He is breathy when he thanks me. Other hand, boy. He favors his right hand. He slaps it around with the other hand. Before my eyes it grows and expands, twitching and inflamed.  He sways his hips and groans.  The other hand wanders to tug his balls again.
Ok stop, slut, I say. I am running out of time. Sit in your chair and spread your legs. He plops down and opens his legs like the whore that he is one on each side of the camera. Start stroking, I say. His hands quickly oblige. My finger poises over the Skype camera button, ready for that special snapshot.
His hand furiously jerks his cock, blurring the screen. His voice is ragged as he describes his sub fantasies to me. Don’t stop talking, slut, I say. I am amazed at how much abuse his dick can take. He grips it like a joystick, pounding and pulling. I’m fascinated. His thigh muscles jump and quiver as he works it.
It doesn’t take long. He starts begging again. “May I cum, may I cum?” he says. I check my watch. Go ahead boy, I whisper.
He struggles and grimaces, the grip on his cock never wavering. It’s time, I say. Spray it all over yourself you dirty little homo. That last humiliation sends him over the edge. He grunts and spews, twitching and moaning, legs spread, in total obedience. I watch as he goes limp, cum matted in the landscape of a chest.
He is mine.