Page 67 of Collin: Episodes 10-12
“Richard, the gag, please,” his sir said.
Mr. Reevesworth stepped into Collin’s range of vision, strong slender hands bringing the gag around the side of Collin’s head from where it had been hanging. He slid the bar between Collin’s lips. His sir pressed it back deeper toward the back of Collin’s mouth, farther than it had been before, spreading his lips wide. Collin’s tongue thrust against it, out of room and confused, then slid under it, licking with the tip at his sir’s hand.
His sir laughed. “Precious, precious boy.” He stroked Collin’s nose with his thumb. “Just a little more now, pet. Richard, shorten the chain, please, just a few links. I want him in posture again.”
As he spoke, he rolled his fingers around in Collin’s hole and pressed down on his prostate. The weak, stuttery, submissive feeling flooded Collin again. His eyelids fell, and he was putty in their hands as the chain on the back of the bar gag strap shortened, drawing him up. There was no slack now. The shortness of the chain behind his head kept him in posture but with his head bent forward and down. Drool collected on the gag at once, growing heavy, wet strands stretching toward the table.
His sir ignored it this time. He stroked down Collin’s throat and then between his arms to his nipples, dragging a finger across one bruised nub. Collin shuddered but only lightly.
“Close now, kitten. Let’s take you down one more time. Just a little more to milk out of you. But you have to give it up to me. Your hole is almost dry. Dry milk boys can’t give their sirs their cum. They need to be wet.”
His sir eased his fingers from Collin’s ass. A syringe full of lube replaced them just for a moment, and then the fingers were back but more this time. Collin bore down, ready to help get them inside.
“No, pet. Hush now. Posture. Just like that. You’re loose. Very loose. Arch your back, push your chest. Just like that. Think about keeping your ass pointed up. Good boy.” He ran his hands down Collin’s ribs and rubbed more circles on his stomach. “Your hole should always be visible when in posture, pet. Think about that when you’re in this stance. You have to keep your back arched, just like this, so it can always be seen unless it’s plugged. Good boy. You’re close. Very close pet. Do you feel it? Do you feel empty inside? Smaller? Drained?”
Collin whimpered into the gag. He was all of those things. He was dizzy with them.
“You’re giving up your cum so well, my precious boy. My plate is swimming in it.” He rotated his fingers a few times and rolled them around the gland inside.
It was almost too much. Collin was so tender there now. He wanted to hide his hole, but he also wanted to lean forward and offer it up and beg for more, as much as his sir would agree to put inside him.
His sir drew his fingers out slowly. Collin’s opening spasmed, bereft. Slick and soft but without any comforting cum to prove he’d served his doms well.
Please, please, please. Someone just use me. Please. But he couldn’t speak. All he could do was let his hole flutter in the empty air. An invitation ignored.
His sir’s hand drifted down between Collin’s legs and wrapped around Collin’s cock. He circled the base of it with his thumb and forefinger and pulled down, stripping Collin’s cock like Collin had seen him strip a piping bag. Cum pulsed out of Collin’s slit, and the world swayed in his vision.
“That’s the last of it, boy. You’re all milked out. Such a good, drained little pet for me.”
Empty. He was so empty. Needy. Tears prickled in his eyes. He’d been naked and on display so long he couldn’t really feel it but he felt something else that felt like naked. Desperate. He lifted his hand and knees, one after the other, as if he could walk or run in place.
His sir pressed kisses against his shoulder. “Still, pet. Be good for me. Be still.”
Collin shivered, but he stopped. His sir stroked his head, scratching his scalp lightly. “I know you feel odd. But you can do this for me. Posture, kitten.”
His body returned to place on its own. He blinked back tears. His sir was right in front of him now. He had the silver dish in his hand.
“Eyes on me, pet.” His sir set the tray down and reached up, unhooking the chain from the back of the bar gag but leaving the gag in. “Rest your forehead against my chest. Good boy. Your neck must be sore.” His fingers massaged into muscles Collin hadn’t even realized hurt. Bit by bit, they loosened. Collin moved his head up and down, stretching into the therapeutic pressure.
Mr. Moreau stepped back only a foot or two. “Keep your eyes on me, boy.”
As if he could do anything else. Mr. Moreau pulled the bench from earlier around the end of the table and sat down, facing him. Mr. Reevesworth handed him a cloth napkin wrapped around a knife and fork. Mr. Moreau laid it out like a place setting, right between Collin and himself but with the arrangement situated for his use.
“Richard, pancakes, please.”
“Of course, mon loulou.” Mr. Reevesworth held out a plate of small thin pancakes.
Mr. Moreau took three and laid them side by side in Collin’s cum on the silver dish.
Forget aching bones, forget the floaty empty feeling inside, Collin could not look away from his sir. What was this?
His sir looked up at Collin. With Mr. Moreau seated, Collin’s eyes were a couple of inches higher, but that only made him feel even more like prey. His proper, genteel sir was grinning like a wolf, eyes bright and fierce, as if he were drugged. Eyes on Collin, he said, “Richard, the syrup, too, please.”
He looked away only to drizzle syrup across the pancakes and into the cum. Then he opened his napkin, picked up his knife and fork, and cut into his breakfast, making the center pancake into four smaller pieces. He speared two of them on his fork and rolled them in syrup and Collin’s cum.
As he lifted the morsel to his mouth, he looked up, locking eyes with Collin again.
Collin couldn’t breathe. All he could do was stare at his sir.
