My giant, as it turns out, is a kinky fucker.

He has always been very gentle with me. Well, maybe not at the beginning. The first time we met he tried to kill me, but since then he has treated me like I was made out of glass. I shouldn't complain about that since it beats the alternative, but it was obvious that he's holding back when we're being intimate, even moreso ever since we had a little scare one evening.

My usual spot is on his shoulder, on the left side specifically. His collarbone makes a nice seat for me that gives me easy access to a place near the base of his ear that I call his off-switch. I found it one day by accident. I was just sitting there, idly stroking his neck, and as soon as I happened upon that one specific area, I suddenly felt every muscle in his body relax. It's now the first thing that I go for when he gets home each evening, and believe me, he often needs it. Whatever the poor boy has to go through during the day must be hell.

One night he came home later than usual, and I could tell right away that he'd had a rough time. That was my cue. He bent down and picked me up and put me in my spot, and right away I went for the off-switch. It had the desired effect, maybe more than I anticipated. His knees went all gooey and he sort of pitched forward a bit, just a little, but it was enough to throw me off balance. I scrabbled and tried to grab hold of something, but gravity was a bitch that day and down I went.

He's fast for someone his size. I didn't fall more than a few feet before his hand appeared, and whump I went, right into the middle of his palm. So, no harm, no foul on my end, but him? He was a mess. He held me up against his cheek for, I don't know, an hour maybe, and at one point a big tear rolled out of his eye and soaked me. I really, really wanted to get to the off-switch to help him relax but he wouldn't let me go, so I spent the whole time just petting his cheek and trying to tell him that I was fine. After a long time he finally settled down, but that night I could tell that his heart just wasn't in it. He was so worried about being too rough with me that…well, let's just say we spent a quiet evening together.

When he got home the next evening there was a very unusual sound coming from him. Giants by nature are noisy beasts but I had never heard one clank before. Once he had undressed, I saw that there was a metal chain hanging around his neck. It was the first piece of jewelry that I had ever seen him wear, and I wished that I had been with him to help him pick it out because…well, it didn't flatter him very much. When he picked me up I waited to be lifted to my spot but that didn't happen, at least not right away. First, he dropped something around me, and by the time I realized that it was a lasso he had already cinched it snugly around my waist. I was so dumbfounded that I just stood there sputtering while he fastened the other end of it to his new necklace with a metal clip.

Now, I am all for safety, but there was something about this arrangement that didn't sit well with me. "No," I said firmly and wriggled my way out of the loop. "I'm not going to have you tie me up like…" Like what? A pet? Is that we had decided that I was? "Forget it. I'll take my chances."

The rope slipped down and fell against his chest. He frowned. He tried to drape the loop around me again but I batted it away. "I told you, no!" I said sternly. He tried again but I smacked it out of his grip. We fought over it for, I don't know how long, with me kicking at his fingers and him trying to pin me down and tie me up, until eventually I just grabbed the rope and jerked it out of his grasp. "Fine!" I shouted. "You want a leash, you big lummox? You'll get a leash!" I slid the loop as small as it would go and slipped it over my wrist. "But if someone's going to be holding the leash around here, it's going to be me!"

He couldn't see what was going on, of course, but as he traced a finger along the rope and realized what I had done he started laughing. To me it was like an earthquake. Lucky thing that I had the leash to hold onto. "Good. I see you've got the idea," I said smugly. "Now, what's for dinner?"

I cracked a few jokes that night about him being into bondage, not really caring that he wouldn't understand them. He was a bit more relaxed with me in bed and as usual his tongue was sheer magic, but he still would not let me finish him, no matter how much I wanted to. After we were done, however, and while I was relaxing on his chest, he spent more time than usual tapping at that tablet of his, all the while fingering the leash with his free hand. I could tell that the wheels were turning behind those cloudy eyes of his. "What are you up to?" I asked, but of course I didn't get an answer. He just kept tapping away, and he was still tapping when I fell asleep.

In a world where brutality toward the Indigenous is not just encouraged but outright demanded, it's no surprise that there would be a market for gadgets designed to make us into sex toys. I had seen a few of them in action during my wanderings and the level of cruelty that went into most of them can't even begin to be described. Apparently, though, there are some out there that, if used the right way, might actually allow the toy to survive, and I think that's what all of the tapping had been about because a few nights later he came home with those mighty arms of his straining against the weight of a box as big as a house. At first he wouldn't let me see what was inside, and in fact he himself seemed nervous about it. It wasn't until late into the evening that he worked up the courage to dump the contents out onto the table.

You didn't have to be a detective to figure out that he'd had no idea what he was looking for and had just grabbed one of everything. I can only imagine the look on the shopkeeper's face. We settled into a routine where he would pick an item out of the pile, give it a brief feel, and then set it down for me to assess. The first thing he chose was something that, no matter how hard we tried, neither of us could figure out. I just called it "Mr. Thingy." Another one that he picked out I am not even going to begin to describe, other than to say that it was very clearly designed for insertion. I shoved that one right off the table. He got the hint.

Eventually, he fished out something that had potential. It looked a little like a toy submarine but was soft and squishy inside, with a pocket in the wall that was just my size. Now, even though we can't really communicate, he's learned that when I clap my hands it means "Yay!" or "Good!" I started clapping, so he picked up the sub and studied it for a good long time with his fingers. I could see that he was intrigued, and by that I mean I could see that he was intrigued. He must have heard me giggle because he reflexively dropped his hand to try to cover up. As if I hadn't fallen asleep a dozen times cuddled up against it!

It seemed that both of us were ready to give it a try, but not until we had made some adjustments. It seems that whoever had designed the sub had intended for the toy inside of it to be single-use. He had to poke a couple of air holes through the wall before he would let me crawl inside to try it on for size. I discovered that my body fit quite comfortably into that side pocket, and that I could both see and breathe through the holes that he made. "Well done!" I called out. Clap-clap-clap.

As I crawled back into the open I found him squeezing a glob of clear gel from a tube. He rubbed it between his fingers, then touched it briefly to his tongue before offering it down for me to try. It smelled fruity and tasted the same way. Oh, aren't you a devil! I thought. I expected it to be freezing cold when he started smearing it over me but it was surprisingly warm. It was also slippery as hell, which made for quite a comical scene when I tried to get back into the tube. It took lots of flailing and scrabbling before I was finally able to worm my way up into position, and we were both laughing by the time I got there. We have since learned that all he needs to do is to tilt the tube and I'll slide right into place. Maybe that's in the instruction manual but we hadn't bothered to read it.

I could see his ear hovering close by through the air-holes and gave a few reassuring (if rather wet) claps. A moment later the tube lurched and I felt that airy sensation of being lifted, followed by the gently jarring thuds of his footsteps as we made our way into the bedroom. His ear appeared again, very close, this time twitching apprehensively. "I'm fine!" I shouted. "Let's do this!" Splat-splat-splat went my hands.

He entered with a wet slithery sound, and right away I felt a quiver in my bones as he growled in delight. It occurred to me then that we probably should have checked first to make sure that he would fit. He did, but only barely. A familiar wall of flesh slid up and pressed me into the cushiony embrace of the lining, which molded itself to my body just like his tongue does. He paused; I did not have enough space to clap my hands but I could lick, which I did, and encouraged by that he began slowly to pump. At first he was hesitant, anxious, still holding back, but I urged him on with my licking, and the more I licked the more my bones rattled and the faster that magnificent piston thrust against me, each stroke more forceful than the last, his flesh warm and pulsing with life, his caution melting into deep roaring passion as he pounded harder and harder and harder, and I wriggled as much as I could against him, wanting to feel his power against every inch of me, and his growls shook me to the core and sent me over the edge and I could hear his breath roaring as loudly as my own and I felt him tense and surge and KA-BLAM!

He had always been so worried about hitting me with his release. Now here I was swimming in it, and oh, my, it was glorious! It was a good thing that we had thought to make the air holes. I stuck my nose through one and gulped in breath after breath while enjoying the thud of his pulse against me and that rock-hard surface softening little by little. Finally, with a slurp, he pulled free. The tube tilted and I was literally washed down its length to land in a soggy mess in his waiting palm. I could barely move – with the volume he puts out, it is like being submerged in lead.

He gave me a long, warm, fruit-flavored bath before rolling wearily to his back and settling me on his chest. His heart was pounding heavily beneath me, and that made me happy. It was still going like that even after I had gotten my breath back, so I rolled to all fours and crawled up to his shoulder, then slid down onto the pillow so that I could reach that sweet off-switch. In less than a minute he stopped wheezing and his whole body, that beautiful mountain of muscle, was reduced totally to liquid. I could not resist whispering into his ear, "Was it good for you?"

I think that somehow he understood that, because with a tremendous effort he raised both of his hands, then thumped them together twice before letting them fall weakly back to his sides. Not ten seconds later my giant was sound asleep.

I think that tomorrow I am going to take a closer look at Mr. Thingy.

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