Sublime - Collected Shorts by Rachel Haimowitz

Author:Rachel Haimowitz [Haimowitz, Rachel]
Language: nld
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

PONY UP

I’ve never liked holiday parties. The crowds, the noise, the strangers, the acquaintances you haven’t seen in ten years whose names you’re somehow supposed to remember, the open-bar abuse, the terrible music, the stupid games, the mistletoe that everyone thinks it’s so funny to maneuver you beneath . . .

I don’t like weddings either, pretty much for all the same reasons, nor am I a fan of the wrath-of-nature-tempting elitism that are gated beach communities. Which makes a Christmas wedding in Boca Raton a whole new level of hell, even if it is a total kinkfest

—just as much a collaring, really, as a marriage under God.

So what, you may ask, am I doing here?

Well, for starters, I didn’t exactly have a choice. At least I can’t hear the music, and I’m well away from the drunken crowd and the mistletoe. Fuck, I’m not even in the house. Which is probably for the best, because the only thing I’m wearing is a Santa hat . . . unless you count the big red bow tied around my cock and balls.

I guess that makes me a wedding present. Not sure why Sir stowed me in the barn,

then, instead of drafting me into wait-service like the rest of the Santa-hatted slaves I saw on my way past the party, but I guess I shouldn’t complain. They’re all working their naked little butts off, while I get to lounge in the climate-controlled barn and nap. Which, admittedly, would be easier if my own naked little butt weren’t half buried in itchy straw.

On the other hand, I’d rather be serving Sir—even serving Sir’s friends—than be

sitting here alone. I wonder who’s bringing him drinks, bringing him food, licking his fingers clean and following him round the dance floor. I wonder if he’s thinking of me as he sips one of those girly drinks he loves so much, dancing and laughing and maybe even taking his turn at reddening the slave-groom’s ass when the boy’s master puts his prize on display.

I wonder, briefly, what Sir’s intent was in gifting me. The happy couple already

comprised a slave; wouldn’t my presence just make the poor boy jealous? Or was he a switch, interested in playing for a night alongside his master instead of beneath him? That thought excites me more than I care to admit; the red bow around my cock and balls tightens like Sir’s talented fingers as my body responds. I reach down to touch myself, just once, then curl my fingers into fists and tuck them back beneath my head before I can break Sir’s rules. But it aches, god, like a hunger, an unreachable itch. And it won’t get better anytime soon; the blood is trapped by the ribbon-cum-cock ring, and my thoughts have turned to dangerous places, to threesomes, to foursomes, serving the new couple and Sir all at once, all night long, never allowed to touch myself, never allowed to come . . .

Shit. Enough of that. Truth is, I’m probably just the new dishwasher or something.

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