Page 68 of Collin: Episodes 10-12
Mr. Moreau smirked. “Thank you for the cream, kitten.” He wrapped his lips around the fork.
And chewed.
His eyes slid closed, a man savoring his meal, rolling it slowly around in his mouth and groaning just a little as he swallowed. He opened his eyes and smiled at Collin.
“Excellent taste, milk boy. I think I will have to take my breakfast like this more often.”
Collin’s cheeks burned. He dropped his gaze, but that meant he was staring at his own cum serving as butter on his sir’s breakfast.
Mr. Moreau went back for more. Collin could not look away. He watched as his sir ate every last crumb, dragging around the final square of pancake on the silver platter to soak up every trace of syrup and cream. Finished, Mr. Moreau set down his fork and knife and patted his belly, saying something in French. Mr. Reevesworth laughed.
Collin hung his head, cheeks tingling. He’d been milked for breakfast.
“Pet,” Mr. Moreau murmured.
Collin looked up. He felt small and humble, and his insides were twisting around. He could barely bring himself to meet his sir’s eyes, let alone anyone else’s.
He shivered and dropped his gaze. After all that and he still, desperately, wanted to be fucked. He was an aching hole that needed to be filled. For goodness sakes, he was stretched, lubed, and bent over. Even though his cock was soft and he was empty, he craved penetration and sex in a way he’d never wanted it before.
What had his sir done to him? How was this even possible?
Mr. Moreau unbuckled the gag from behind Collin’s head and eased it out as carefully as he had done all the other times. He held out his hand, and Mr. Reevesworth handed him an open tin of balm. With one finger, Mr. Moreau dabbed the balm on Collin’s lips, paying special attention to the edges. Then he handed the tin back to his husband and accepted a cup from Damian.
It was more ginger tea with honey, warm but not hot. Collin barely stopped himself from gulping it down. When the tea was gone, Mr. Moreau started unhooking Collin’s ankle and wrist cuffs.
“Back up, kitten. There you go. There’s a soft mat there, feel it? Good. We’re going to lay you down on your side, facing me.”
Collin backed up until he felt the soft pad. The weights on his nipples and cock swayed and tugged on him as he moved. He turned a one-eighty at the edge of the padding and slowly curled up on his side, facing Mr. Moreau.
His sir smiled at him and pulled up the bench again, sitting down and leaning forward with his elbows on the table. He unfolded a blanket and shook it out over Collin, draping it over his back, but not covering his front.
“How do you feel, kitten?”
Collin blinked slowly. He glanced toward the corner. Mr. Reevesworth was leaning with one hip against the side table where the remains of breakfast were laid out. Damian stood next to him, holding a cup of coffee. His knees ached, and so did his wrists. His hole felt so empty. He reached out one hand and tangled his fingers with Mr. Moreau’s. Words came slowly. “Submissive, sir. Like I want to roll on the floor and beg you to step on me.”
Mr. Moreau nodded, eyes soft and unsurprised. That was reassuring. If his sir expected this, then it was okay even if he felt like he might be spinning off into pieces in space.
He gripped his sir’s hand more tightly. “You…you ate me, I mean, my cum, sir.”
Mr. Moreau smirked again, that almost evil glint returning. He lifted Collin’s hand to his lips and kissed the back of Collin’s fingers. “You are delicious, pet. Did you enjoy feeding me?”
Collin’s head spun. He squeezed his sir’s hand, trying to stay anchored. Over and around the emptiness, a new feeling flashed through him. In his mind, he watched Mr. Moreau drag his pancakes through the syrup and cum again and felt satisfaction, accomplishment.
“Yes, sir.” He pressed Mr. Moreau’s hand to his cheek and gripped it with both hands. “You…you just took it, like you said you would.”
Mr. Moreau smiled and stroked Collin’s hair back from his eyes. “You gave it to me, pet.”
“I wasn’t even hard, sir.” Somehow, that seemed very important.
Mr. Moreau chuckled. “I didn’t want you hard. And you are an exceptionally suited boy for milking. Not all males can be milked successfully the first time.”
“Why am I so desperate, then, sir?”
“Are you desperate, boy? What are you desperate for?”
“Touch. Being fucked, sir.”
Mr. Moreau smiled, that soft, pleased look all over his face. “Milking is one way a dominant can train a submissive to be pliant and needy. If I put a vibrator in you now, you could get hard, but you would not be able to orgasm. At most, you might dry orgasm. But you would still want sexual contact. Unlike many men after sex, you’re not sleepy or uninterested. And you’ll likely remain this way for hours, even days.”
