He is still tied down, glazed, high and head-spun… I bring the glass to his lips and tip the water into his mouth, his throat undulating as he swallows.
“Do you want some more?” I whisper.
He looks up at me, all trust and soul and broken beauty.
He nods. “Yes Ma’am.”
I take a sip and lean down to him, touch my lips to his. He reaches up to kiss me, I open my mouth and let the cool water flow into him.
He utters a little cry. “Oh,” that turns into a moan of pleasure when he realises that I am feeding him from my mouth. He opens up to me.
I feel his whole body reacting to this intimacy, trying to lift off the bed to get closer to me. He swallows greedily, sucking at my mouth for more moisture, to prolong the contact. I pull away when he has it all.
“More?” I ask.
He nods eagerly, his eyes on my lips. “Please…”
I take another sip. He watches me approach and opens his mouth.