Page 64 of Collin: Episodes 10-12
Mr. Moreau reached under Collin and pinched one nipple, then the other.
Collin’s flinched.
“No, no, pet. Posture.” Mr. Moreau patted Collin on the rear. “You can take this. Show me how good you can be.”
Was he daring him? A challenge?
Collin collected himself, pulling his chin back into position and arching his back again. Air moving over his balls reminded him that his position put his tender bits on display. His hole fluttered.
Be good. Just be good for his sir. He could do this. He wanted to do this.
The door to the playroom opened. Mr. Reevesworth came around the end of the table dressed in loose pants and an open house-robe. He had a tray of coffee and tea service in his hands, which he set on the side table on the wall parallel to Collin, ignoring him completely. Then he sank down in the large padded chair right by the table in the corner to the right of Collin.
Damian followed him with a large serving tray full of breakfast finger foods. “Would you like coffee now, sir?” Damian asked, arranging the dishes and hot water and stowing the trays on a nearby shelf.
“In a moment. Sit here, Pup.” Mr. Reevesworth pointed to the floor in front of him.
Collin’s cheeks tingled as he blushed. He knew, he absolutely knew, what he looked like, and they were so obviously there to watch. Yes, he didn’t really know yet what was about to happen, but that was secondary to being on display.
Mr. Moreau came to Collin’s side, standing behind his head and reached under him, circling Collin’s nipple with his thumb.
“Keep posture, kitten.”
He pressed whatever was in his hand against Collin. There was a soft puff of air and then suction. Something, like a tight, silicone mouth pulled at Collin’s nipple and surrounding areola.
Collin sucked air into his mouth through the gag, his back tightening, fingers curling against the table. His heels arched. Barely, so barely, he kept his form.
“Good boy. Breathe, boy. Breathe. You’re behaving so well.” Mr. Moreau stroked Collin’s back.
Warm hands. Solid hands.
Collin’s chest rose and fell as he steadied his breathing. It wasn’t bad. It was just a lot. Whatever was on his chest now was light and small, but it was pulling at him, making his nipple pulse and tingle.
“One more, kitten.” Mr. Moreau’s hands slid under Collin again, gently pinching Collin’s other nipple. Then there was the press of that same kind of device against his areola again. Collin’s muscles tightened in place. He could do this. He would do this.
Mr. Moreau let go, and the device latched on, a fierce little mouth on Collin’s chest.
“He didn’t move,” Mr. Reevesworth observed.
“No, our kitten is very well behaved.”
“He really is.”
Collin had to blink hard. Thank goodness for the gag. It gave him something to bite down on.
Mr. Moreau went back to petting Collin’s flanks.
It helped a little. At least it gave him something to feel other than those two pulsing points on his chest. And praise—knowing that his doms thought he was doing well—was steadying.
Mr. Moreau wrapped his hand around Collin’s cock and stroked it once, then held it point down in his hand between Collin’s legs. “Two things that I prize in my work, kitten, are symmetry and balance. I abhor disorder. I dislike mess.” Without letting go of Collin’s cock, he wiped Collin’s chin and the table again. “What you have on your nipples are suckers. You have beautiful, fine nipples. Very fine. But too small for me to truly attach anything but clamps. In a few minutes, the suckers will swell your nubs to sufficient size for what I want to hang off them. Something small to match what I will use to keep your cock pointing appropriately down. Unlike a doe or cow, milk boys do not always have the ability to appropriately keep themselves pointed down and into the receptacle. They must be assisted.”
He stroked Collin’s cock softly one more time. “Try to relax. To let down your milk, as they say, we must first be able to reach your gland, located inside your hole. While we wait for the suckers to do their work, it’s time to open you.”
Collin’s cheeks flamed. He was trembling finely, not just at Mr. Moreau’s words, but the way he could feel Mr. Reevesworth and Damian watching him.
Mr. Moreau trailed his hands down Collin’s body and pulled back the mounds of his glutes from his hole. A now familiar syringe of lube slid inside his anus and deposited its content, making him slippery and wet. Mr. Moreau pressed one finger against the tight ring. The pad of his finger was larger than the syringe or the nozzle from the rinsing earlier.
“Good milk boys should cooperate with their milking,” Mr. Moreau said softly, rolling his fingers against Collin’s bud. It sounded like he was meditating, almost in a trance, as if Collin were his mandala or drumbeat to follow. His free hand idly stroked patterns on Collin’s calf. “Press out against me, kitten. Take a breath, a deep one. Good. Now let it out and imagine your hole opening for me like a flower. Your whole body spreading open like the petals of a rose.”
