Page 61 of Coiled Tight
I gave him a second to fight the claim if he was really reaching his limit, the point where the oversensitivity would stop having that addedgoodfeeling attached to it. I’d never been one of the Doms who learned how to Dom from the bottom. Part of me couldn’t comprehend the appeal of it from a submissive’s perspective, despite all the times I’d witnessed it. But I could clock Cam easily as the type of sub who got lost on the adrenaline spike, who enjoyed pain because it was chased by the pleasure that came from serving, from knowing where they were and what they were doing and who was doing it to them.
“Can’t you, Cam?”
I waited some more when all he did was squirm and writhe against the padded seat, the chains of the swing rattling softly with the movement.
“I—”
“You can safeword if you need to, darlin’.”
The endearment might make it seem condescending, but it was a reminder to both of us. I knew Cam, in a sense, but I didn’t know him that well. I didn’t know him in this context, didn’t have the skills yet to read his body and the meanings behind his nonverbal communication.
“I can, Daddy.” He grunted, doing his best to push himself on the swing. I helped, tugging him close until the back of his thigh pressed against my side. “But more kissing. Please, Daddy.”
He was going to be the death of me. He’d make it easy for me, too, if all he could think of asking was shit like this.
“Gladly.”
Granted, keeping my mouth on him was a challenge when every drag of my hand against his cock had him bucking up and threatened to break him apart because every emotion he seemed to contain was unleashed within the restraint of the swing, making him the most responsive sub I’d witnessed in ages. But I stayed, persevered through the ache in my back because the angle wasn’t the best, and everything else that would’ve never deterred me from swallowing more of his cries, of his tears, of the begging for simultaneously more and less pain because right now, he existed only for me and what he wanted to giveme.
It was when his cock was thickening again, when his breath hitched and his eyes widened as he glanced down, that I broke the contact between us to lean in against his ear.
“Just one more, Cam,” I goaded. “One more, and you can rest and get all my attention, darling.”
“I don’t know?—”
He tried to protest, to squirm out of my hold for the two seconds it took before his spine arched off the swing, before he was crying himself hoarse because he might not know if he could, but he was certainly doing it. That was the thing about bodies, wasn’t it? Especially bodies like his, used to bending to someone else’s will, to letting go of the standard notions of pleasure and pain, and letting others hold on to the strings puppeteering them.
“That’s right.” There was no cum that slipped out of it, just his flushed skin and hissing when I gave a final squeeze to his deflating cock. I thought of pinching him where he’d asked when we started this, but a shiver ran down his spine, and the lure of Sadism wasn’t as strong as the urge to care for him, to wrap him up in a bundle and start the conversation we needed to have. “You’ve been a very good boy, darlin’.”
That urge was only multiplied when his eyes slipped shut, and all the strength that had been rippling through his abs and the cords in his arms seemed to just leave him.
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“Iforgot.”
Was it more than a mumble? No, but it was all I could offer as I blinked my eyes open. One positive outcome from getting milked dry until everything hurt was that everything was too fuzzy afterward. There was no time, no energy, to consider being embarrassed or self-conscious. I just burrowed deeper into Daddy, my nose pressing against the crook of his armpit. He smelled very earthy. It was nice.
“You forgot what, darlin’?”
I really liked how he called me darling.
I liked how he was all but cradling me against his lap. He must’ve moved me while I was out of it, because we were comfy now. Not that the swing wasn’t comfortable, but it wouldn’t be if it was the two of us lying there.
The smart thing would be to look around and figure out what was going on exactly. I opted for the self-care thing. The self-care thing involved relishing in how Daddy’s arms felt wrapped around me, and getting more comfortable on his lap.
He hadn’t put on his shirt yet. His skin had a thin layer of sweat I really wanted to lick.
My tongue darted out of my mouth to get the sneakiest taste. The saltiness reminded me he’d asked a question. Not answering Daddies was considered rude in most circles.
“Warning that I pass out sometimes.”
Daddy sighed. He didn’t sound annoyed, but I kind of didn’t want to look up and have my fears confirmed. “It’s okay. You were out for less than a minute.”
“That’s good,” I mumbled.
One Dom I’d played with once was a doctor, so I texted him about it—no way I was going to explain kink to a vanilla doctor and deal with all the judgment. He said I didn’t really pass out; it was more like a deep state of relaxation I stumbled upon. He assured me he’d watched other subs pass out and that wasn’t what I did, but I still worried.
