Sunday, December 23, 2012

Hanging By A Moment Part 2 by Kirby

Hanging By A Moment (part 2)

(This is part 2, and there will be a part 3 to end the story off for time's sake. At the end there will be a choice to make and you all will decide the boy's next step. Enjoy!)

My eyes had left my wristwatch, and my eyes darted around nothing, as the roulette wheel spun in my brain. Think, think, think... Perhaps, I was taking too long to choose a path, or maybe She wanted to remind me of the only path to walk. I felt Her confident hand touch my chin, and direct my attention to Her. "It isn't rocket science, boy. I never ask twice." I quickly swallowed the protest in my throat and simply nodded. "Yes Ma'am." Was that my voice? It seemed too small to be birthed from my lungs. Whether I thought it, or said it, She seemed pleased. A swivel on my feet, and my long legs moved in the right direction. There was heat on my backside. I knew She was watching. A slow burn all the way across the red velvet carpet. I would not dare look back. Upon arrival to the designated table, I caught myself inspecting it for cleanliness. I imagined where She would sit and my hand brushed over the cheap vinyl covering to wipe away any litter. Why am I doing this? I should not care about the seat. What She couldn't see would not hurt Her, right? My thoughts were interrupted by an eager waitress. "A house red wine, and a...just a water with lemon please." The waitress went away to oblige the order, and I just stood there waiting for Her.

I could see Her making Her way across the bar to me. It was like I was looking through a fish-eyed lens. The obviously tailored trench coat was buttoned up, and Her black boots paraded in a sultry step. Step one, step two. She was met at the table by the waitress who set the drinks down, and I started fishing for the correct bills in my pocket. "No change. Thanks." I wanted that waitress far away quickly. The anticipation was killing me. What did She really want with me? She slid into the booth, leaned back comfortably, and claimed not only Her wine, but also my water. I could feel my frown, and the scrunch in my nose, and She obviously was fluent in the language of body. "Oh, I assumed this was for me too. My instructions never included a drink order for you, boy. Sit down. I will assume you were just going above and beyond in anticipating my wants." A sideways grin formed on Her lips and I knew there were no right answers. I elected to keep quiet, and slide in across from Her to take my place. There was a slight hesitation though. Did She mean sit down right on the floor, or was I supposed to be in the booth? Why was this such hard work? I quickly looked to Her for a hint on Her face. The booth seemed to be the right place. I was envious of how relaxed She appeared while I sat on the edge of my seat, tense.

The silence between us was deafening. Her gaze moving over my features, and I sat there like a lab rat. Twitching on the inside. My features must have put off an air of thirst, because She slid the water towards me. I took it greedily, and not because I was dying of thirst. I never knew what to do with my hands. That glass could of passed as a security blanket when I clutched it. Slight relief. My hands had something to do. She spoke. "So, boy, are you trying to figure how I could spot you a mile away?" I smiled slightly, "You mean it wasn't my grace, charm, and striking good looks?" That was meant to be funny, and maybe a little cheeky. This was difficult. I was not sure what to say. I did not have long to hand out a chuckle, before I felt a pain sear right between my legs. Quickly, I bit my lip down hard and my hands white knuckled as they gripped the table. Just a faint squeek from my throat. Yes, a lab rat. Slowly, I looked down to find the spike of Her heel pressed into my balls. "I'm sorry...Ma'am.". The spike let up slightly to give way to an almost comforting rub from Her foot against me. "You see, I like nice boys. Polite boys with manners." She leaned forward, and as She did the pressure of Her foot pushed in tighter. I sucked in a deep breath, while trying to focus on Her face. "Cocky boys have no place with me. Besides, you are not THAT good looking, boy. Understood?" I quickly became a human bobble head as I nodded enthusiastically. "Yes Ma'am, understood." She eased the pressure off, and I sat back with a sudden urge to grab and feel to ensure all my parts stayed intact.

This is not what I had in mind for my night. Was I really going to miss sleep over getting my cock trampled in a seedy booth? I was used to something different. As badly as I didn't want to make the rules, it was my reality. Many nights, after a show, 18, 19, and 20 year old girls offering me their pretend virginity for the night. They would suck my dick in the dressing room, if I wanted it. Just a bunch of silly girls that had nothing to offer me, and the truth was I really had nothing to offer to them. My craving was for something else. My need was to be taken, directed, forced, and then loved. These thoughts swam through my head while we sat silently. As I left my own head, the sensation struck me. Through Her very slight reminder, I had become partially erect. I also had to relieve myself. Mental note: Never guzzle water with a stiletto in your crotch. It is a confusing feeling. "Ma'am, may I be excused to the rest room? I won't be long." She seemed put off, but nodded to allow it. As I stood, I saw Her face register the reaction in my jeans. That brought a smirk to Her face, and I probably moved on my feet more quickly than normal.

There is a certain safety about being alone in a men's bathroom. Alone, and free to register the natural reactions on my face from what transpired. I unfastened my jeans while watching in the mirror. Self inspection time for sure. It was a brief inspection, but gave peace of mind that She had not removed anything important. Taking my shoulder width stance at the urinal, I closed my eyes and began to relieve myself. My left palm pressed against the wall, and my head bent down. I grumbled, "Fuck me I should have gone home." A sound of the door opening was a bit of an assault to my ears after enjoying some quiet. Just another drunk here to piss his booze away surely. The hair on the back of my neck stood up when I felt the hand on my neck. I froze. Another hand slinked over my hip and down my opened jeans. I felt fire when the nails dug into my bare thigh and pulled slowly. There was only a whisper from Her, "It's time boy".

 (A choice has to be made for the last part. Does he run far far away? Or does he stay and go with it? You the listener decides.)


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