#lit asks

Another day ended, as Hvitserk closed the door behind himself. It had been a long workday and his mind was nowhere near the required topics. All he could think of was the silk panty he wore, how it hugged his cheeks and softly caressed his cock whenever he moved in a certain way. 

His master had told him to wear it to work. Hvitserk was new to the kinky community and only interacted online and very anonymously with someone specific. They'd found each other in a chatroom with many talking about their kinks and quickly went over to private messages when they figured out their preferences aligned. 

I'm home, Hvitserk sent in their chat and bit his lips raw as he waited. His Master wasn't online yet and he lay down on his bed in anticipation. His assignment had been to wear a silk panty to work, one his Master had picked out for him and paid as well. Hvitserk was supposed to tell him immediately when he got home. 

He wasn't into pet play, but being called Good Boy by his Master caused almost the same reaction as the usual choice of name: Pretty Boy.

With his eyes on the screen, he slid his hand beyond the band of his jeans without opening them. He wasn't allowed yet, but he wanted to feel the fabric against his fingertips- they glided over it so easily, making it feel like there was no panty at all as his index and middle finger moved back up and over his slightly interested cock. It wouldn't take much to get him hard, he usually imagined a rough voice telling him what to do, when he read his Masters texts and his member would slowly twitch into hardness. 

Sometimes he wished he could see him, but the idea of having to share a photo of himself in return was excruciating. What if his Master wouldn't think of him as pretty anymore? He played with the little pink ribbon on his panty, sighing forlorn at the lack of a response. If Ubbe was at least available, he'd be able to kill some time in sending memes back and forth to distract himself, but apparently he was working late and had his phone securely put away in his locker at the police station. 

Contacting Ivar or Sigurd always destroyed any light mood, since his little brother's tended to dump all their problems on him, if he only showed a hint of interest in their day. And his friends would simply call and that was not what he needed at all. Hvitserk twirled the ribbon between his fingers and scrolled up in the chat with his Master. Maybe he could get off by using the messages from a couple days ago? 

Just as he was getting into it, he saw another text pop up and scrolled down to read it. 

Have you been good for me, Pretty Boy?

A shiver ran through Hvitserk as he saw the message. And not for the first time he imagined what it would be like to hear those words, maybe whispered close to the shell of his ear. Hvitserk took a stuttering breath, accidentally twirling the ribbon too much, ending up with it between his fingers. He stared wide eyed at the ribbon in his hand and swallowed. He didn't have to confess to the damage he did, right?

Yes, Master, he quickly typed out, feeling shame rise in his cheeks for lying to his Master. Am I allowed to touch myself? He asked, closing his eyes tightly after sending it. What was he supposed to say? That he destroyed the beautiful gift his Master had send him?

Always so eager, Came the reply. But I'll allow it today. Go ahead, take off your shirt and open your pants for me.

Yes, Hvitserk was aware of how eager he could be regarding carnal desires. He wasn't able to wait for too long and usually needed to connect with his sexual partner in a physical way. This online relationship he had was entirely new to him.

As fast as he could he pulled his sweater off and popped open the button of his jeans, shimmying out of them without getting up from the bed. With a hard stare he contemplated his socks, but left them on. His Master hadn't told him to take them off and knowing him he would do so later when the right time had come. 

His phone chimed with a new message when he fell back into the pillows. Are you done, Pretty Boy? 

Yes, Sir. Hvitserk was allowed to alter between Master and Sir, but nothing else. He quite liked the set rules, because of his inability to abide by them on his own account. I'm only wearing the panty you got me. He'd send back and with an afterthought, And my black socks.

Good Boy. His Master praised him and Hvitserk preend. Can you tell me how it felt to wear them at work?

Exciting, Hvitserk recalled how his heart had pounded when he walked into the office, somewhat both thrilled at the possibility and fearing a colleague would suddenly just know. No one had looked at him differently though and Hvitserk had gotten to work, his mind revolving solely on how he was wearing something his colleagues would never be able to guess. I couldn't wait to get home and talk to you.

Only once he'd send it, he realized how it sounded and immediately started typing out an explanation that was less humiliating in his point of view, but stopped when his Master's answer popped up.

You Sweet Boy almost made me blush…

With a stumbling heart Hvitserk stared at his phone. He'd never really believed he was affecting him much, but this reply made Hvitserk pause. He had no idea how to respond properly and answered with an I'm sorry, Sir. 

No need to be sorry, his Master replied and was still typing so Hvitserk waited eagerly for what he had to say. Will you tell me what else you've been meaning to do?

At that question his gaze turned down to his panties, lifting only a little as his dick twitched like a reminder of being there. The silk confining it was so soft he had to concentrate to even feel how it restricted him. His eyes flicked to the place where he'd put the little ribbon and wondered if he should say something now. With a shake to his head Hvitserk decided against it. 

I wanted to wrap my hand around my cock over the silk. Hvitserk admitted. I imagined your hand was touching me. Almost couldn't do my job...

Makes me wonder what you would do if I was with you, Pretty Boy. His Master replied. Makes me want to hear that broken moan when I kiss that beautiful head hiding under your panties.

Hvitserk's fingers whispered over the fabric and his hips instinctively moved up for more friction. They had never exchanged identifying pictures, but Hvitserk had sent his Master one where he wore white see-through lace. The head of his dick had peeked out and when he'd gotten a picture in return he'd barely managed not to sully the lace. 

His Master had a very gorgeous cock and Hvitserk would love to suck it. But the man had told him he lived in Oslo when he'd drunkenly given away his location being Kattegat. Always had, always will. A meeting was simply not going to happen. 

His phone chimed, taking him out of his thoughts, Still with me, Pretty Boy?

Always, Master. He wrote with shaking hands. Hvitserk wanted to do more, needed more as his hardon started to grow painful. He simply wasn't patient enough for games. Can I please touch myself? He asked, biting down on his lower lip as he waited for a reply. 

It felt like forever to get a response, but Hvitserk let out a heavy breath once the message appeared. Needy little thing, yes you are allowed to. Wish I could stop your pleas by fucking your throat. 

Yeah, Hvitserk would like that too. He was a total slut for giving head and sure his Master would be proud of his skills. One hand was squeezing his cock and with the other he replied dutifully, I'd love for you to fuck my face. I'm desperate to taste you.

Careful, Sweet Boy, or you're giving me ideas, his Master replied, causing Hvitserk to frown a little.

Haven't I yet? He asked, fingers slipping underneath the silky panty to wrap them around his aching member. Hvitserk moaned at the feeling and slowly started to pump. Finally he could take the edge off. 

The way you talk makes me want to visit Kattegat, his Master sent him and Hvitserk was choking on his own spit when he read that. But you know I can't. It saddens me.

"So close," he said to himself in a whisper. Hvitserk had fooled around with men before, but never went further than exchanging handjobs and the occasional blowjob. He was desperate to feel his Masters hands on him, yearned to find out what it was like to get fucked and went mental just thinking of that heavy cock on his tongue. Are you touching yourself? Hvitserk asked boldly.

What was that? The immediate reply made Hvitserk halt. He had forgotten to address his Master correctly, but was given the chance to correct himself. 

Are you touching yourself, Sir? He repeated the question dutifully before going back to stroking his cock lazily. Wondering if his Master was in his own bedroom right now, just as naked and thinking of Hvitserk. Thinking about me wearing the panties you got me?

There was no answer for a while and Hvitserk pushed his panties down to have more room to fuck into his own hand. With his head thrown back into the pillows he moved his hips up, playing with his nipples one at a time he lost himself a little in the feeling. He let out a surprised gasp once the phone alerted him of a new message. 

No, his Master was not at home right now, Hvitserk could tell as much from the little he could make out of the surrounding area. It looked like a public bathroom in which his Master was standing, pulling his pants away enough to give Hvitserk a little peek inside. What does it look like?

"Fuck," Hvitserk breathed the word out, heavily turned on from the sight alone.

Are you still at work, Sir? He asked, and as he was trying to figure out what kind of uniform he was wearing, his Master had already deleted the picture from their chat. If anything identifying had been visible, Hvitserk wouldn't know. 

Took a break, but don't worry your pretty little head. His Master replied, How are you doing?

Hvitserk sighed, the part in him who thrived on pleasing others ached in longing. I'm close, Sir. He answered, picking up the pace. His wrist twisted every time he reached his cockhead, his calloused palm grazing over it and sending sparks up his spine. Hvitserk knew he should've used lube, but he had been so eager to touch himself, there was no time to think of such things. 

He'd left the chat open on his phone and turned his gaze to it to check for a message. His Master had answered when Hvitserk had been too absorbed in coaxing out his orgasm. 

How close? It read and another text followed up, Do you want to come for me, Sweet Boy?

"Yesss," Hvitserk said out loud, the hot spurts of his own come hitting his belly and rib cage as he imagined the deep voice saying this to him. He'd made quite the mess of himself. I sullied myself, Sir. Hvitserk typed out, once he had half a mind to write again. 

I'd love to lick you clean and kiss you- you'd like to taste yourself on my tongue, wouldn't you, my kinky little boy? His Master teased him, I want you to taste yourself, Pretty Boy.

His hand was hovering over the pearly white stripes on his stomach before he let his index finger slide through it. This wasn't the first time Hvitserk had done this, but the very first for his Master to tell him to do it. His semen dripped higher up onto his chest on the way to his mouth before he sucked on his finger. It was a familiar tang, salty and bitter. If only he could taste his Master…

Wish it was yours, Sir. He told him after licking his finger clean. I would suck you so good, Master, I'd be so good for you.

Eager Boy, don't test me. His Master replied, causing Hvitserk to whine. Now get your panties and socks off and take a shower. He ordered, I want you to relax and enjoy your evening. 

What about you? Hvitserk asked, concerned, as he reached down to pull socks off. Soon the panties followed. 

I will have to work, so don't think of me, my Sweet Boy. We will speak later this week. 

With those last words the little green dot next to his username was gone and Hvitserk sighed before he did as he was told. A shower really sounded like a good idea and the come on his stomach started to get uncomfortably cold and dry anyways.

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