Uses of a Sex Object- Sexual Fantasy

male object

‘Babe, come here’…a honey-toned order he always obeyed.

He had been doing the laundry, I could hear him sorting out clothes for the wash but that could wait. He would return to his chore when I was done.

I heard him answer and come toward my voice.

He looked lovely, he always did…I smiled encouragingly.

In response to my open arms, he came in close and nuzzled against me…slightly taller than me, I had to lift up to kiss his neck and graze his skin with the tip of my tongue.

When I did this, it made him sigh and I knew he would throw his neck back further, opening himself up to me. If he did that I would be lost.

Dammit…look at him…he offered me his throat, closing his eyes in expectation. He knew what fired me up but then my sex object was meant to know that. It was his job to be there, willing, ready and wanting to be taken.

‘Such a little slut…always ready, aren’t you?’

I enjoy calling him what he was..using one of my favourite pet labels….it was true. What else do you call a man who is always ready to give himself sexually to be used?

The names I called him, the labels I applied, all signified my affection for him. He might blush, so bashfully but he knew I was right. No point in denying your nature.
From the moment I had set eyes upon him, I could see through to his core. A chance introduction and when he dropped his eyes in response to my confident appraising look, something inside me quickened. He made himself my target, placing himself in my path. No contest.

He offered to fetch me a drink and hadn’t stopped offering me whatever I wanted since.

Here, he was, in the kitchen/diner passive but hopeful…ohh, that sweet hope of his…made me fill with passionate desire.

He always yearned for orgasms, loved them, would gorge himself if allowed.

I had made it clear he had to make honourable sacrifices for me and all those orgasms would be trimmed back, honed to just what I felt was suitable for my little sex object, just the treats I granted him.

Naturally, being denied and living under my loving control, he existed in a state of constantly simmering sexual need. If only he knew, how that was his finest hour. The sparks of sexual energy flowed from him…to me…the recipient of his desires.

‘Babe, I do think you might be getting yourself worked up again.’ I drew his submission to the fore with my mild teasing tone.

His head dropped and he mumbled indistinctly.

I lifted his head up with my finger and kissed my boy, my eager little fuck toy and as I was doing so, my other hand dropped his groin.

Ohhhh..yes..there it was, hard as a rock, ready for me, if I wanted it. Well, I could tease it certainly.

My hand pressed down on the hardness below.

I pulled back…’You are my sex object, just mine to use’

He was breathing hard, and he moaned.

‘Wanton slut….aren’t you? My plaything…desperate…horny..needy…fuck toy’

His cock bucked with each assertion on my part.

‘Know what you are, darling boy, my sex object’

He looked into my face, nodded and said simply….

‘Yes, please…I like that’.

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