Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 5

wrapping around to grip firmly, like a lover's hand. A twist of his master's wrist and the straps pulled at the skin, a short pump of his cock, before the straps fell away, leaving his cock weeping for further attention.
    "Please." The word came out as an unintelligible hum, but he began a litany of pleading, the strikes far enough apart that he wondered if they'd stopped. Then another.
    Thud. The slap was barely this side of painful, the pleasure of the tight grasp and tug making up for the slap immediately. He'd been on the edge of orgasm for what felt like days, his body a bottomless pit of need.
    Thud. A choking sob stifled by the gag, but tears now streamed from beneath the fabric over his eyes. His thighs tensed and trembled, awaiting the next strike of the flogger.
    It didn't come. Quiet, except for the low hum of the vibrator. He turned his head to listen more closely, holding his breath in an attempt to hear.
    Still nothing. And then the brush of his master's calloused thumb across the head of his cock.
    "Come." One word, so quiet yet so confident of being obeyed.
    Like a dam breaking, all the emotion, the desire, the love, the need-it all exploded from him in the most intense orgasm of his life. It took with it all the worries, the cares, the anxieties, the disappointments, reminding him that his master was in control. All he needed to do was--just be.
     
    HE PAINTS IN WHITE
    by Jason Huffman-Black
    There isn't much I can say that could convince someone I am even minutely worthy of the gorgeous man lying on the bed before me. He is the epitome of everything good and clean in this world, from those designer suits to his ideals to his apple pie life. But as much as I see how lucky I am to have Stefan's submission for these past six months, he seems wholly oblivious that he deserves much more than a former felon turned mechanic whose one suit was bought for court appearances and can't get the grease from around his fingers no matter how hard or long he scrubs.
    I use white to bind him. It seems wrong to use any other color on the man. A pillowcase for a blindfold, a towel for a gag, and sheets to cuff his hands to the headboard. Nothing fancy, although he deserves the best of gear. I create the masterpiece of his submission with the tools I have at hand.
    He lies still, his head cocked to listen for my movement, but I have gone still, admiring his beauty, considering how I will go about the task at hand. The task of worshipping him through my dominance. My hand falls to his thigh, brushing a rough, calloused thumb against the silky hair found there as I admire the canvas before me. A muffled moan rises from Stefan's throat. He has always been a vocal lover, something I appreciate fully.
    His cock strains and twitches upward from its bed against Stefan's lower abdomen, but I make no effort to move my hand closer. The beauty of his need fills me with pride ,and I brush my own straining cock against his shin, a small gift to the bound man that he repays with a deep rumble of need.
    I turn away from Stefan's beauty, intent on continuing my work. On the dresser, I pick up the new pack of white laces, ripping it open and extracting one. I lay it across my hand, wondering if my lover has noticed my affinity for white when I play with him. If he has, he's never mentioned it. I wrap the lace around my hand, admiring the contrast to the colorful back of my hand, the bright design that travels up the length of both my arms and over most of my chest and back. The pictures on my skin tell the story of my life, both before and during my time in prison, on up until the time I met my current lover. He has no ink on his skin; he needs no enhancement to the perfection he already displays for me on a regular basis. Another difference between us.
    Stepping back between Stefan's splayed legs, I grasp his testicles. He keeps them clean shaven for me, a request that makes him blush but also gets him hard. He may be all apple pie and conservative values, but Stefan accepts his submissive nature, allows himself to be a kinky bastard privately. I take his pair in a firm grip and massage them in my rough palm, enjoying how he squirms and winces with the pain but his cock leaks even more into the growing puddle on his stomach.
    Pulling his testicles away from his body, I wrap the shoestring around the base, drawing it tight until the color peaks at a deep red, the skin taut and shiny over the tender orbs beneath. The string then is used