Chapter 8 - Miles
Chapter eight
Miles
Men had fucked my face before, but Atlas was taking it to a whole new level. Making me hold my hands behind my back made it hot, sure, but the way he was commanding my body, forcing me to take his cock all the way down my throat, was making me so hard I thought my dick might implode.
Oh, fuck—would he work me up until I was desperate, use me to make him cum, then not let me come? That seemed like something he would do; I was sensing a bit of a sadistic streak in him.
God, why did that make me even harder?
I swallowed around the tip of his thick cock, and he moaned loudly, wrapping my long hair around his hand and tugging harshly, which ramped up my arousal tenfold.
I loved impact play for the pain-pleasure aspect, and this was hitting those exact same notes.
Hair pulling was now on my list of “hell yes” kinks, apparently.
He slid out of my mouth only to thrust back in again, all the way to the hilt, and I knew my throat would be sore all night and probably tomorrow, too. Good thing my job didn’t require a lot of talking.
I was going to need to buy the store out of tea and honey if we were going to do this with any regularity. Oh god, I hoped we would.
Atlas continued fucking my throat for several long minutes, his moans and gasps of pleasure filling the room as I relaxed my throat and just took it, tears streaming down my flushed cheeks like he’d wanted. I didn’t know how long he did it, but I started feeling floaty the longer he fucked my face.
This felt incredible.
After a while, I felt him start to grow impossibly wider in my throat, and I knew he was about to come. As promised, he hauled me off his dick by the hair still wrapped in his grip—shit, I almost blew my load at that—then grabbed his dick to jerk it once, twice before exploding in my face.
I closed my eyes, feeling blissful and utterly degraded that my Daddy was painting my face with his cum. The shame of being used as nothing more than a cum canvas made my dick bob insistently, begging me to pay attention to it. I wonder what Daddy would do if I touched it, just a little . . . ?
“Stop.”
My hand froze on my aching cock instantly, that one word conveying a command stronger than I’d ever heard before—from anyone. My whole body shivered at the sound.
“I didn’t give you permission to touch your little cock, did I?”
I shook my head, warm cum sliding across the corner of my mouth, but I didn’t dare lick it up. I had a feeling I’d get in trouble for that, too. “No, Daddy.”
“That was very naughty, Miles. And naughty boys get punished.”
I nodded slowly, gazing up at him with innocence in my eyes. Who knew if he was buying it or not?
We hadn’t talked about rules or punishments, but impact play was on the table, so I suspected that’s where he would take this.
After we’d been together longer—if we ever got there—and had a chance to lay out all our likes, dislikes, and proclivities, I suspected I might get more rules and punishments than I bargained for.
I was here for all of it.
Atlas pulled his sweatpants and boxers down and stepped out of them then headed to his attached bathroom, visible from where I kneeled with a cum-soaked face, presumably to get something he could use to clean me up.
When he came back into the bedroom with what appeared to be a damp washcloth in his hand, a smile on his face, and a smooth, clean, softening dick, I knew I was right. He stepped in front of me, tipped my chin up with the warm towel, and started wiping me down.
“Because we haven’t talked about your comfort level with dried cum, I’m cleaning you up this time. But for next time . . . where do you stand?”
I swallowed hard, closing my eyes so he could clean off my eyelids and forehead more easily. “I’d be honored to wear our cum for as long as you’d let me, Daddy.”
The cloth froze on my cheek, so I opened my eyes to find him staring down at me, wonder in his gaze. “You would?”
I nodded as he finished wiping off the last of his cum and set the washcloth on the nightstand nearby. “Yes. I like the idea of wearing the evidence of what we did, maybe even all day if it’s under my clothes.”
He shifted his weight, and I swore I saw his dick trying to get hard again. “In public?”
Oh, shit, that was an opening. I leaned back on my heels, eyes gazing up at him, dick pointing straight up and straining. “That’s not all I’d like to try in public, actually.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Oh, really?”
I gave him my best shameless grin. “Yes. Maybe we could have some sexy fun at a kink club or something sometime?” I ended it on a question, butterflies swarming inside me before I’d finished speaking.
But fuck, I’d come here because my Daddy had had his cock locked in a cage—he wasn’t vanilla.
“I’d love that, baby.”
My grin only grew wider as Atlas shifted his stance and crossed his arms, hardening his gaze. “Now, I believe my boy is owed a punishment for touching his dick. We’ll have to talk about rules and their corresponding corrections later, but for now, I think someone needs a spanking.”
I shifted my weight, my dick hard enough to pound nails. “Yes, Daddy.”
Atlas settled onto the side of the bed and patted his thigh. “Good boy. Now, over my lap.”
***
I wasn’t a small guy, and Atlas was much smaller than I was.
But he manhandled me into position with a swift effortlessness that took my breath away, and soon, I was ass up on his thighs.
My dick pressed against his leg, and I thought the position would probably work well to get me off before Atlas reached beneath me and tugged my dick between his legs.
Fuck, the way he was controlling my body had me sweating.
Atlas started rubbing my cheeks, warming me up as he spoke. “You mentioned your scene partners working things out on your ass, baby—what did you mean by that?”
I shifted a little on his lap at the question.
I wasn’t used to having conversations about previous sexual partners in the middle of a scene, but with Atlas, it felt right.
I twisted to look up at him. “Some of them would spank me with their hands or a paddle or sometimes even a flogger, cane, or crop. Others just wanted to fuck me hard, and when I was in the mood, I was down.”
“I can work with that.” Then he pinched my left cheek hard, barking out a quick demand. “But eyes down, boy.”
I immediately complied, turning back toward the floor. My elbows rested on the carpet, and I clasped my hands in front of them. “Sorry, Daddy.”
Atlas pinched my other cheek, and I winced but didn’t make a sound. I was owed a punishment, and while on some level I knew this was all for sexy fun, I wanted to please Atlas, be his good boy, take whatever he dished out. Plus, spanking—most pain—was fucking hot.
He spoke again once he’d resumed rubbing my ass. “Now, since you’ve done this before, I’m not going to go easy on you. I’m giving you twenty tonight.” He paused before asking, “Color?”
I moaned; I couldn’t help it. “Green, Daddy,” I managed, breathless. Every guy spanked differently, with varying degrees of harshness and impact, but something told me Atlas would ensure I would be feeling this tomorrow.
Shit.
Atlas’s hand left my ass, and I felt his body shift beneath me as he raised his hand then brought it down with a loud smack.
Fuck! That hurt like hell.
The next smack landed in the middle of my left cheek, and I groaned before the third landed on my right. Damn, he’d done this before; probably many times. He knew what he was doing.
Not that I’d had any doubt.
Spank after spank rained down on my cheeks, and soon, the entire surface was on fire. By the tenth smack, he’d covered the entire surface of my ass, so the final ten would be delivered on already reddened, sore flesh.
He paused to rub the pain into my burning cheeks, and I whimpered as he did. His body shook a little like he was chuckling under his breath, but he was breathing hard, too. That felt more gratifying than it probably should’ve.
“Ten more, boy. Brace yourself.”
Then he brought his hand down again. He hit a bruise he’d created only moments ago, and I couldn’t hold back my shout then.
I was grateful he didn’t have any close neighbors, because they might’ve called the cops given the sounds I was making as the twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth smacks landed.
After fifteen, Atlas paused again. I was sobbing on his lap, my body riding the wave of pleasure the pain was giving me. My dick was hard between his thighs, and it was possible I’d shoot cum all over his floor if he hit my ass just right.
“Last five.” He pinched both aching cheeks at the same time, and I cried out. “You’re taking this so well, baby boy. But I wonder . . .”
Oh, shit. What was going through that sadistic head of his?
He chuckled under his breath. “Well, I had the idea to spank more than just your ass, but we’ll save that for another time, okay?”
My breath caught, and I suddenly felt very small. “You’d . . . you’d spank me there, Daddy?”
Atlas kept rubbing, and a fresh burst of tears leaked from my eyes. “Where, baby? Where would I spank you? I need you to say it.” He tapped my ass lightly, but because it was already incredibly sore, I shouted again. “Tell me where I’m going to spank you soon.”
I cried out as his hand came down hard. “Sixteen, Daddy?”
Atlas kneaded my cheeks this time, his hands vicious, and I whimpered again. “Sure, baby boy. We can count that as sixteen. Now, tell me where you want me to spank you. Be thorough.”
My voice broke as I forced out the words, which came out as questions. “My hole?”
“Mm-hmm.” Atlas hummed his assent, shifting to the no-less-excruciating rubbing. “And?”
“M-my dick?”
He reached under me and squeezed said dick hard, and I shouted again. In this heightened state, I could almost imagine the harsh treatment was a smack. “And?”
“My . . . my balls, Daddy?”
“Yes, baby. All three. Your hole, your dick, and your balls. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” His hand lifted from my ass before I could reply. “Brace yourself, baby.”
The next smack was the hardest yet, and I screamed out my “Seventeen!” just before the next one hit. I barely kept up with the count, but I made it to twenty like the good boy I was.
I was floating, but fuck, but my ass was on fire, and my dick was ready to explode.
“Breathe, baby,” he cooed, resting his hand on my heated cheeks, not moving.
I did as he said, following the sound of his voice through the glorious haze that had descended on my mind.
I felt him guide me back to the bed to lie down, and while I hissed when my sore ass scratched against the comforter, I barely registered anything else.
Until his mouth was on me, sucking my entire cock down his throat.
As keyed up as I was from the hottest spanking of my life, it didn’t take me long to shoot my cum down his throat. He swallowed every drop, hands caressing my sides as if to say I was a good boy, his good boy, for giving him my cum.
Then I was spent. I collapsed, melting into the bed, a boneless, gasping mess of a man. Atlas climbed up next to me, curling against my side and placing his head on my chest. We just laid there until I caught my breath, let my body calm down from being so worked over.
With the calm came the pain, but while it hurt like hell, I also reveled in it. Atlas had completely owned me like I’d asked him to, and he hadn’t held back. He’d proven he could be the Daddy I needed.
I just had to figure out how to be the boy he needed me to be. Which meant coming out.
As he brought me a water bottle from the kitchen, ensured I drank at least half of it, then turned me over to rub salve into my tender skin, I felt ice running through my veins at the thought of finally telling the world I was gay.
Because I knew I wasn’t ready. I couldn’t come out, not yet.
I wanted to keep him, but I just . . . I just couldn’t.
Not coming out meant our future was uncertain. He’d promised he wanted to give us a try, that we would be exclusive for the duration, and since he knew where I stood on coming out, I assumed that meant he was fine to wait until I was ready.
But that was a conversation for another day.
Because right now, I was going to bask in the joy and elation brought on by my first scene with the absolute best Daddy I’d ever had.
If only I could keep him.