Page 60 of Collin: Episodes 1-3
“Oh, sweet Zeus,” Mr. Moreau breathed out.
“Dinner is on the counter, darling,” Mr. Reevesworth murmured. “It’s from Meti’s.”
“How much longer does he have?”
“Thirty minutes.”
“Mind if I bring the food in here and watch?”
“Can I have you when we finish here?”
“Yes.” Mr. Moreau looked down one more time and turned away.
Mr. Reevesworth chuckled, deep and dark.
Collin shivered. Tears leaked out of the corner of his eyes. “I think my cock is wet, sir.”
“You’re leaking, yes.” Mr. Reevesworth reached down and stroked his finger over the tip, jostling the plug inside. Collin shrieked. For a moment he felt like he’d risen up out of his body. The world was painted in the brilliant shades of crystals. Even the air was visible. He floated, legs sprawled open, skin covered in sweat, the vibrator churning on.
“I feel drunk.”
“Let it in, beautiful boy. Suffer for me.”
“Yes, sir.”
He blinked, trying to focus on Mr. Reevesworth’s face. Everything he needed was there. He pulled on his wrist. Mr. Reevesworth let him go. His hand floated up on its own accord. He touched the face above. That terrifying, imposing visage with eyes both warm and hard. His body bucked and shuddered, but he couldn’t look away.
“Does this please you, sir?”
“Yes, Collin.” Mr. Reevesworth stroked his face in return. His other hand wandered lower. He dragged his nails over Collin’s nipple. His fingers returned, grabbing the hard bud and pinching. Collin’s mouth fell open. Pain mounted by degrees. He pushed up into it. Mr. Reevesworth pulled upward. Collin’s body arched until he could no longer bend. He swallowed, mouth dry. A challenge stood in Mr. Reevesworth’s eyes. He raised an eyebrow.
Collin swallowed again. Eyes never moving, he sank back down on the bed, dragging out the pain. The skin on his chest stretched. Each millimeter, he could see Mr. Reevesworth waiting to see if he would give in. The pain was a fire in his flesh. He lay flat, stomach muscles fluttering like bird wings. And yet somehow, he was relaxing. The pain was becoming music. He was following it. His body was bleeding on the edges, expanding and also becoming nothing.
“Good boy.”
Mr. Reevesworth let go of his nipple.
Collin’s vision sparked. He couldn’t breathe. His hands moved to clutch his chest, but they were caught, dragged away, held down. All he could do was twist and cry.
His cock bounced between his legs, valiantly trying to strain into an upright position. For a moment, it felt almost like it would make it. It built and built.
And dissipated, release strangled.
He fell back to the bed, all in one piece, gasping for air. The sound of cutlery drew his attention. Mr. Moreau sat at the table by the window, a proper napkin tucked into his collar and a place setting in front of him. He was eating the extra food Mr. Reevesworth had ordered from the restaurant.
It was so odd, like looking through a window into another world. Here he was, naked, covered in sweat, face wet with tears of denial, while Mr. Moreau, cool, professional, handsome Mr. Moreau, sat at the table eating dinner.
Collin’s stomach fluttered. The pressure was rising again.
Mr. Moreau dabbed the edge of his lip with the napkin. “Do you think he will come like this?”
“Unlikely. It usually takes training for a man to have an orgasm like this. It’s only a vibrator. But can you imagine him staked out on his back pinned by a fucking machine? I think he can learn to come then, cage or no cage.”
“I look forward to seeing your work.”
Mr. Reevesworth chuckled. He brushed damp hair away from Collin’s eyes again. “What about you, Collin? Would you like to learn to come from anal alone?”
Collin blinked, slowly. “Sir?”
