Confessions of a Minion by writer4life rated NC-17 summary -Two Whose Liners play. Thoughts, sex, discussion, and realization ensue. Disclaimer- I don't own the celebrities on Whose Line, nor do I own Whose Line itself. I write for entertainment purposes only, and derive no profit from my work. The situations presented here are purely fictional and any resemblance to real life (aside from names and likeness) is purely coincidental. I'm against a wall, and I suppose I should be worried. I suppose I should run screaming, but I can't. For the big oaf that he is, he's surprisingly tender. I can hear myself breathing as he pushes closer to me. "What are you?" He whispers so near to my face that I can taste him. "What are you?" I nearly smile but stop myself. This isn't a game... or is it? He really means it, and I'm tingling just wondering how far it'll go. I'm curious and aroused. He wants to hear me speak. "I'm your bitch." His grin is almost feral. "Yes... say it again." "I'm your bitch." His eyes close and he presses into me. I can feel his enjoyment hard against my thigh and I shudder, in spite of myself. How did it get this far, you ask? Hell if I know. We were just kind of playing around, just joking, making a funny out of the fact that the two of us were left alone together, an unlikely pair. It had happened before, and I suppose I should have caught the look in his eyes then... the proposition became real before I even had a chance to blink. "What should I do with you?" He asks, casually, and I almost think of him how everyone else views him. A friendly, down to earth moderator of sorts, a man of seemingly unending wealth and generosity. A man with whom I could never have pictured myself before (aside from the fantasies)...but now... I don't know. "I don't know." I vocalize. He snorts a laugh. "You know what I want you to do?" I shake my head, not wanting to give him any new ideas. "I want you to lick my shoes." I nod, slowly. I should have expected as much. Deep down, I should have known he has some sort of God complex. Kneeling in front of him, I bend all the way to the floor until I am facing one of his size fourteens. He's wearing a pair of black Italian leather casual shoes. They are quite shiny, though -- and very appealing. First, I stroke them with the palm of my hand, smoothing it up and down before letting my tongue come out to lick the tip of it then along the side. A moan escapes his lips before he musters a strangled gasp. "Do the other one." I oblige, wordlessly. It isn't so bad, actually. I mean, I've done worse for less. Right now, though, I am wondering why my dick is stiffening. I've never pegged myself for the foot fetish type, and I especially never engaged in real actual domination play or degradation... of course, this has everything to do with him. "Get up." He says, and I realize I was lost in thought. Instinctively, I avert my eyes, already a natural at this, but he turns my head to face him. "Look at me." I do. "Do you want to touch my cock?" I don't answer readily, but oddly enough, I do. I had heard stories and rumors that it was pretty impressive. Naturally, I'd want to have a gander, at least. Suddenly, the overwhelming sensation comes over me to want to please him, but I pretend to be indifferent. I don't really know where this will lead. He repeats himself, and I shrug, impassively. "Yes. I do." "Good. Get back down on the floor, then." I do as told and am suddenly faced with the bulge in his trousers. I don't need to wonder why my mouth is watering. Of course, most of my friends know that I enjoy a good cock, but never like this. I usually don't go for games, but I am tingling all over with anticipation. "Unbutton me." He says. "Nothing more." With unsteady hands, I tug the button through the little stitched hole and stop. "Now unzip me." He whispers. "Nothing more." My body is trembling visibly as I pull his zipper down and stop. There are several seconds of pregnant space as I wait for my next order, damn near dying with need. "Take it out." His voice is barely audible as I follow the order, desperately trying to steady my hand as I reach inside his boxers and pull out his warm, mostly-hard dick. It's quite large and juts out to the left a bit. It's charmingly distinguished with blue veins running along the side of it and a seeping head. I have an urge to lick the reddish tip of it but restrain myself. "Do you like it?" I nod without hesitation. "It likes you too." He's smiling; I can hear it in his voice, but I can't tear my eyes away from his beautiful member. My own cock is swelling inside my pants, and my balls are starting to ache. I want him inside me, but I don't dare propose it. After all, I don't want to come off as desperate even though I am a nasty middle-aged slut who really, really wants to get fucked. "What are you thinking?" He asks, and I am startled by the question. I am shy by nature and generally don't expose my inner most thoughts and feelings, but he has me rattled, the way he switches gears so easily. "I... I don't know." "Tell me." He says, chuckling. "I know something must be going through your thoughts right now. You want me to fuck you?" Closing my eyes, I think it over, wondering about the ramifications. Sure, I've slept with co-workers before, but this is different. What if something bad happens? What if I get too attached to him? Shaking my head, I try out the lie. "No. I don't want that." He pauses, making me look up at him. "You don't want that?" I'm shrugging, trying not to sound too frightened. "No. Not a good idea, I think." He nods, sighing. "I guess you have a good point." His hand rests on my head, then slides down onto my face, caressing my cheek. I feel so weak in this instant, so uncertain. If not for who he is, I might cry, but I can't let him see me do that. It would mark a turning point in our relationship -- even more so than this. When his hand comes down to land on my shoulder, I make a decision and lean forward, kissing his thigh, right next to his cock and it jumps, nearly slapping me in my face. This renews my own erection, and before I know it, I'm tugging his slacks down his legs. "Ahh..." He murmurs, pulling his shirt up. "...I like the way your mind works." Instantly, I am sucking the head of it, marveling in the fullness of it in my mouth, the warmth, the taste. Above me, he is moaning quietly, a low deep manly sound that drives me insane with need. My tongue has a mind of its own, licking along the head, down the shaft, sucking him deep into my throat until his hand comes to rest on the back of my head -- but still, he's being very gentle, very considerate. "Shit..." His voice is distant. "...so good at this... God..." My slow but rhythmic bobbing will have him coming in mere minutes, but I worry about having to leave like this, with this enormous hard- on, with this pent up passion. He has no clue what he's doing to me, just being who he is, just dominating me but not dominating me. I've wanted it all up until this point, but I have no idea how he feels -- or if he regards me as no better than the high-priced whores he's used to. He knows who I am when we're together under the lights and in front of the cameras - just as I know who he is, but this is so different. It's even different from when we party together and we're sharing a beer - like regular guys. Those are the times I relish because those are the times when I don't have to think about complications or some other actor I might be having an affair with or some prostitute he might be seeing later. Those things never mattered as much as they do right now. Then again, maybe it's better this way. Better that I never know. He comes, shuddering as I swallow his bitter warm essence, and then he's yanking me up to face him, kissing me hard before I even have him digested. His tongue is sweeping my mouth and my arms are tugging him close to me, instinctively, as we kiss passionately. Now, my eyes start to water because I only agreed to this little game because I've been in love with him for so long. But now, it feels futile because tomorrow, we'll be the same two people, doing the same old things and none of this will have mattered. Pulling out of the kiss, I put small space between us. "I have to go." I'm wiping my eyes, avoiding his inquisitive stare. "No." He says, holding me firmly in his grasp. "You're not going anywhere until you tell me what's wrong." I'm shaking my head, taking deep breaths, avoiding his eyes. "Don't want to talk about it." He tugs me against him. "Look at me." "No." "Please." I do what he wants and meet his gaze. His hand comes up to wipe my face. "I took it too far?" My head lolls from side to side. "No. It had nothing to do with that." "Then tell me." "I can't." "Colin?" The sound of my name makes me shudder, bringing out those feelings I'd had buried, but they don't come flying out in a desperate rage, like one might've hoped. Instead, they come bumbling from my lips - like a clumsy confessional. "I felt like... I dunno... shit. Like maybe you thought of me as shit... I wanted you. Loved you..." I pause, shrug, then continue. "I'm sorry... you keep insinuating someone else, but it's you. Its always been you." He nods, slowly, as if he completely gets it when I don't even get it. And then we're hugging again and he's sort of rocking me. "I'm sorry." He murmurs, his hands sliding up and down my sides, caressing me gently, kneading the muscles in my body, relaxing me, making me hard, making me melt. Then, his hand is unbuttoning me and unzipping me and I'm in his warm palm and he's stroking me as my eyes flutter shut. "Mmm..." I'm humming, nearly collapsing to the floor, but he has me supported, completely. Using my pre-come as lubricant, he brings me quickly to a trembling release, soiling his clothes and those damned shoes I'd only been kissing not an hour ago. "Oh... God, that's..." My eyes are wet and he's kissing my face as he milks my orgasm slowly. When he lets go of me, he's looking into my face, wearing a serious expression. "What?" I inquire breathlessly, out of desperation. He snorts a laugh. "Nothing... I just... I never knew you felt that way." Touching his face, I shrug. "Yeah. Well. I've been keeping that one for a while." He chuckles. "So, you're not all gah-gah over Ryan, then?" I make a face. "Not gah-gah. No. Sorry." I let myself slump back against the wall. "It's you, Drew. Its always been you." Wordlessly, he comes close and kisses me tenderly as I cup his face, let my hand dance over his soft, crew-cut hair. When we break the kiss, he's smiling. "That's why you agreed to the game." I nod. "Yeah." "Not because you were drunk?" I shrug. "Well, that wasn't the sole reason. Plus, I really wanted to see your penis." Drew actually blushes. "Ahh... and did it live up to your standards?" I smirk. "I have pretty low standards, so, yes..." He shakes his head, slowly, smirking through crimson cheeks. "You're a good little minion." "Yeah." I murmur. "And so much more." He nods, his eyes going serious as he cradles my head in his hands. "Don't I know it?" FIN?