Page 61 of Collin: Episodes 1-3
Mr. Moreau leaned forward. “Would you like your Master to train you to come without needing to touch your cock, Collin?”
Collin shuddered. “Would he like that?”
“Very much. There are so many things you can do with a boy that sensitive.”
“I want to please him,” Collin whispered.
“Oh, Richard, what did you find?”
“Something exquisite,” Mr. Reevesworth murmured.
They said more things, but Collin was gone, the devil thing inside his ass driving him to desperate tears. He rolled over and drew his legs up under him, ass in the air. But there was no relief. He twisted and rolled. His body was hot and cold. Somehow, he was no longer between Mr. Reevesworth’s legs because Mr. Reevesworth was lying beside him, petting his head as he ground himself into the comforter.
“Five more minutes, my boy.”
He nodded. At least, he hoped he had nodded. He had tried. He spread his legs as far as they would go. If only someone would fuck him, then maybe he could come. The muscles in his legs trembled. There was something coming out of his mouth. He was begging for something, for anything.
“Are you safe wording, Collin?”
“No.”
At least that word was clear.
“What do you need, beautiful boy?”
“I want to be fucked. Please, it’s not enough.”
“No.”
Mr. Reevesworth’s fingers gripped Collin’s ass. “As delectable as you are, this is a punishment. Two more minutes.”
Collin wept. He lay against Mr. Reevesworth, clutching his shirt. His body burned, tired, almost rung out.
“One minute.”
He pressed his nose against the bone of Mr. Reevesworth’s shoulder, anything to ground himself. His heartbeat fluttered in his ears as if he were running.
The buzzing in his hole stopped. His muscles tightened, waiting for it to start again.
“That’s it, beautiful boy. It’s over.”
Collin shook his head. He didn’t understand. But hands were turning him over, parting his buttocks, and that thing, that terrible, wonderful thing, was being dragged out of him. So powerful and yet so not enough.”
He sagged against the bed.
Someone laid a blanket over him.
“Here, let me help with that,” Mr. Moreau said somewhere in the distance.
His dick was still trying to be hard inside the cage. But he was tired. So very, very tired.
“Here, Collin. Drink.”
“Don’t wanna.”
“Drink, Collin.”
“Then I’m gonna have to find you and ask to go to the toilet, and I’m too tired. Can’t walk.” He swiped at the water bottle being held in front of his face.
