Page 48 of Collin: Episodes 10-12
“No, sir.”
“Good boy.” Mr. Reevesworth went back to petting Collin, soft gentle strokes over his ribs, passes over his nipples, a finger down the back of Collin’s neck, and another over his throat.
That floaty, peaceful feeling was coming back. His body relaxed, his legs no longer even trying to find purchase. Maybe his feet were going a little numb, but he no longer cared, and his knees ached a little. But he would hang like this off his master’s cock as long as he wanted.
“I’m going to fuck you now, pretty boy. You don’t need to do anything, just lay here and take it; that’s all I want from you right now. Don’t try to make me come. Don’t try to hold a position. Don’t try to keep yourself in any particular place. That’s what I will do. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.” Collin had to swallow twice just to get the words out, and even so, they were slurred. He felt drunk. Only Mr. Reevesworth’s cock in his ass and grip on his hips, combined with Damian’s knee and hands, were tethering him to reality.
“Relax, Collin. Damian will make sure your head is safe. Let go.” Mr. Reevesworth stroked his hands up and down Collin’s skin.
Collin breathed out, letting his fingers curl loosely, his arms hanging.
“More, Collin. Just breathe out.”
“My legs…sir.” Collin struggled to form words. “My knees hurt when they jerk.”
“His knees are probably getting bounced in directions they can’t bend, sir,” Damian whispered.
“Thank you for speaking up, kitten. Good call, Pup.” Mr. Reevesworth reached down and grabbed Collin’s right ankle and then his left, folding Collin’s legs so that his heels were pressed against the edge of his butt. Then he wrapped his arms around Collin’s legs and hoisted him back, spreading Collin wider.
A whine escaped him at the sensation of being spread, but his body melted into gelatin in his master’s hands. This was perfect. There was no more strain on his knees. The last bit of tension slipped from his body. He didn’t need to try to do anything. He was safe.
Weakness rolled through him as Mr. Reevesworth pulled out of his hole and sank back in to the root. He was a rag doll, putty in his master’s hands. Softness and contentment muddled his thoughts. He bounced against the couch, only staying in place because of Mr. Reevesworth’s grip on his hips. Only able to breathe because Damian was holding his head. His master’s dick moved back and forth inside him, never completely leaving, never not using him, always stretching him.
He was being held; he was being handled. The bodies around him were strong and solid. Nothing else mattered.
Mr. Reevesworth went gently for a few minutes, plunged back almost carefully but always deeply, pausing now and then to rotate his hips, stretching Collin’s hole.
“Good, kitten, just like that. I’m going to really have you now. Be good for me and take it, pretty boy.”
He pressed his lips to Collin’s shoulder and straightened up.
Caught in the moment, limp and pliant, Collin didn’t move. He waited. No, waiting wasn’t the right word. He just was. Waiting implied trying, and he was doing nothing.
Mr. Reevesworth’s grip on his hips tightened as he pulled Collin a little higher, drew out of his hole, and then drove back in hard. The force slammed the air from Collin’s lungs. He made a soft sound like a squishy toy. Before he thought to draw air, his master had pulled back and driven back in. Collin wheezed lightly, catching air as the dick pulled back from his channel.
Fast. Hard. Mr. Reevesworth fucked into him, holding him down, holding him up. And he took it. He had to breathe with the ins and outs, but he could. Something like sleepiness and deep acceptance seeped into him even as the moment, the shaking, the force, and the burn overloaded his senses. This was where he wanted to be. This was what he wanted to be doing. Hanging here, railed from the inside out.
Claimed. Used. Wanted. The knowledge and certainty of that was being pounded into every level of his being. There was a burn with being used this hard and fast. His balls tingled and ached from being slapped by the balls behind him.
Mr. Reevesworth groaned and pressed in, hips pumping in tiny jerks, seeking more depth. Far inside Collin, his cock twitched, filling him with his spunk and marking him.
Mr. Reevesworth leaned down and pressed his lips to Collin’s back. He was breathing hard, and for a moment, that was all, just the hard, lean body with a pulsing heartbeat pressed against Collin’s spine. Warm and wet with sweat, drenching Collin in his scent.
He could barely breathe, and he didn’t care.
Slowly and with care, Mr. Reevesworth straightened up. It felt like he reached for something though he was still holding his cock inside. A moment later, he pressed something against Collin’s taint and started to withdraw. As soon as his cock was out, he pushed something rubbery, shallow, and wide back into Collin, keeping his hole stretched and trapping the cum inside.
Guh. Something submissive and weepy rolled through Collin. Marked and owned. So owned.
Mr. Reevesworth patted Collin’s ass and then gathered Collin’s legs and rolled him up in his arms in a bridal carry. Collin gasped, dizzy, finally able to draw a full breath. His vision blurred from being suddenly lifted and turned. Lips pressed down on his forehead, his nose, and then his mouth. Blind, he tried to kiss back.
“So good for me, kitten.”
Collin smiled back tentatively. The drunk, floaty feeling was there. He was so deep, so lost.
“Now you can have kitten time, Pup.” Mr. Reevesworth leaned over the couch. And then he was rolling Collin out of his arms and onto Damian.
