When the Tea Goes Cold

A/N: features chastity, funishment, minor blood warning. All characters are depicted 20+

One shot.

I can feel the knot between my ears about to fucking explode and push my chair back with a sigh. The wheels on this second-hand piece of shit don't even work properly and I veer slightly to the left, the scrape of plastic on wood announcing itself to my internal, frustrated background buzz.

I want to say I'm pissed off but I don't even have it in me to be annoyed. It's been a few hours of this - staring blankly at a tumble of numbers I'm supposed to sort, derive some sense from. R studio isn't working (except it is, I just somehow forgot how to use it) and neither am I.

Reaching for my mug, I realise - too late, always too late- that it's cold. It feels like i've been caught in the rain without an umbrella. Slimy, unready, and with no one to blame.

Except the useless fucking sub who made the tea.

Closing the laptop decisively, probably too hard, I see them twitch in the corner. They've watched me get progressively more annoyed the entire day and managed to be so good. Dressed up so prettily for me. My little bitch. The poor thing has been kneeling for hours, waiting for their owner to notice them. Collared, small leash hanging off. Caged, obviously. It's embarrassing - and flattering, of course - how much they need me. Like air. I could find another of them in a heartbeat, of course. I've never known a man that doesn't secretly want to be put in their place. So much easier for them to just submit, let their mind break.

"Slut?" I look back at my tea, eyeing them over the rim. I keep my voice sweet, gentle.

I see their whole body perk up. They're excited, eyes cast down but widened. They know better than to speak yet. It's a shame. They're too well-trained now.

"It's cold."

Immediately they start to stand and walk over to me to take the mug. I let them approach, reaching out to hand it to them in one hand, then with the other grabbing their chain and yanking it down. A tiny gasp - or maybe a yelp- escapes their throat. They're eye level with me now and I firmly grip their chin and force it up. I love the feeling of my nails digging into their lower jaw, and they let themselves make eye contact for a second, realising- too late- that this is not the kind of attention that they want. I grin at them, savagely. The noise between my ears quietens as I release their jaw and pull their face up to mine, wrapping the chain firmly around my hand. I gently place the mug back on the table.

"I-I'm sorry, I-" I jerk the leash again to silence them. So fucking needy. The words die in their throat in a whimper.

"I want the taste of your sorry in my mouth," I murmur quietly to them, pressing a delicate kiss to their forehead before lowering my face to their neck.

It's covered in bruises, and I frown slightly as my nose brushes over it, breath dancing over their skin as I look for a suitably untarnished spot. In some places I can feel the pulse fluttering under lightly shivering skin,

There. Just above the collarbone. I taste it - sweat, and fear- and feel them shudder under my tongue before gently kissing, letting my mouth open wider into a bite. Release. I glance up - their eyes are tightly shut and mouth half open. Shallow, controlled pants huffing over their teeth. I tease the skin a bit more, clenching my jaw and -

There. Iron. I know I'm hurting them and I don't care. I can feel them trying not to grind their cage against my leg, messy little bitch leaking all over me. I never wear trousers at home, the slut would ruin them.

I hold their neck between my teeth for a little while longer before releasing them, wordlessly pulling their head down between my legs by the leash. They start to kiss my thighs, fervently, and nosing towards the apex. The smell of me sends their cock straining desperately against their cage. They pause briefly to glance up at me again and I gently push them back to their job. I wonder how it must feel for them. No responsibilities other than pleasing me. Broken brain, broken will, mind turned to mush from months of being my plaything. They try to get closer to my pussy and I hold them back teasingly. They know the taste of their fear makes me wet and I can feel their lower lip tremble as they kiss my legs, drunk in the scent, desperate to get closer. I hold them back, again and again, before finally pushing their nose firmly into me, and they groan, the vibration of the noise fluttering against my clit. I grind against them a little through my cotton panties, before pushing the crotch to the side and allowing my desperate little slut to experience heaven.

The feeling of their hair in my hands and the tentative licks of my clit is exactly what I needed to relax and I allow myself to close my eyes, pressing my toy against me, smothering them. They're so much better to use when they can only breathe when I permit them and I know every time they try and take a ragged breath the liquid clogs their mouth and nose. Despite this they're desperate to keep going and press their tongue in me, against me. They grip my calf with one hand to steady themselves, like a drunk stumbling against the door. The feeling of their mouth on my clit is ecstasy and I grind firmly against their face, bored of their attempts to please me I take matters into my own hands and use them like the toy that they are. The whole time I'm wriggling, gasping, whispering how good of a toy they are, how much this pleases me, the cold tea forgotten as they fulfil their purpose.

Such a good little slut. Such a good little slut for your owner. Say it. Say you are.

They mumble incomprehensibly against me.

I glance down again, my sadistic grin widening. They're so cute when they can't breathe. Hair sweaty and messy, chin dripping with saliva and me.

The sight of it is what does it, I feel the orgasm building, spreading out from where their nose is firmly pressed against me and I hold them tightly against me as I cum, tugging their hair tightly up, my thighs tightening around their head and neck as I drench their face. I can hear them making some kind of noise, a strangled groan and whimper. As I pant I feel something wet, warm against my leg.

The slut came. Just from me suffocating them between my thighs. As I come down from euphoria for a moment I hold them there, squeezing and enjoying the control I have before finally releasing them. They're trembling and embarrassed, face glistening.

With a sigh I push them away and turn back to my computer. Better get back on with things.

"Clean yourself up and get me another cup of tea. It better be fucking hot this time."