Chapter 20 Saúl #2
Thankfully, the height of the swing was adjustable, so I lowered him before going down on my knees, his cock now at a much easier angle to get into my mouth.
He was addictive like this, trying to glance down even though the restraints made it hard for him to watch as I hollowed out my cheeks and swallowed the head of his cock.
I didn’t go deep right away, but it wasn’t lack of wanting.
I wanted—needed—to savor him first, to lose myself in the salty taste of his skin and the muskiness I’d always associated with sex and primal drives I refused to apologize for.
He cried out when I let up, licking a stripe up his underside, from the base of his cock to the tip of his head. It was the only warning he got before I swallowed him as deep as I could go, my fingers creating divots in the backs of his thighs.
“Fuck, Daddy, please!”
I didn’t know if he was asking me to go easy on him or the opposite. Maybe he didn’t know, either, but until he was more specific about his wants, I chose to ignore the cries, keeping with the onslaught of his senses I’d settled on.
Truthfully, I wasn’t sure he’d have it in him. He hadn’t softened too much after that first orgasm, but I wasn’t going to assume he had it in him to shoot again so quickly after. Men’s refractory periods were a blessing and a curse.
More time to tease and play and be what so many subs called mean. More constraints to actually give them the overstimulation they wanted, as quickly as they wanted it.
His cock was now covered in saliva as I pulled out, enjoying far too much the way it threatened to bounce against his stomach, as erect as it had been when we had started, and he wasn’t stained by his own cum and the sweat that had started building.
“Are you going to come in Daddy’s mouth, Cam?”
Cam whimpered, breathing heavily. “I can, Daddy?”
“I have to give you some kind of treat, don’t I?”
I didn’t tell him I’d be offended if he didn’t, if I didn’t get to taste all of him, that this was what we’d agreed on.
I didn’t tell him of how all-encompassing I could be when I set my sights on someone, when I decided their care fell on me, and I was the one to fulfill as many of their needs and wants as it was humanly possible.
It would be a conversation we’d need to have, but not right now.
Right now, I redoubled my efforts, driving him up the wall, getting him past the brink, past the point where he still thought he couldn’t come this easily, not so soon, not after he’d just spilled all over his stomach.
Time was irrelevant, and I wasn’t keeping track of it, but I kept track of how his muscles tensed, and his balls drew up, and his heartbeat picked up right before he was shooting again.
Right before his barbells dragged against my tongue, and his cum hit the back of my throat, too far to really taste more than a salty aftermath that felt like water after a drought, even though it wasn’t what I’d been thirsting for.
The tears Damian had been hoping for started quickly after—soon after I got back on my knees, licked my lips, and wrapped my fingers around his decidedly softer cock.
“Daddy, please,” he cried against my mouth, barely able to keep up with the press against his lips, my tongue demanding entrance.
I grunted, pushing him until there was no resistance, until he submitted in the way he needed and the way I wanted. The first tear slipped almost shyly, as if it was nothing more than a bodily reflex. I still moved to kiss it away, to nip at the skin it had marred.
“Daddy, it—”
Whatever he’d been about to say was interrupted by a wrecking sob taking over his entire body.
I shushed him, even though the action wasn’t meant to be anything other than slightly cooing. I wanted his tears. His submission. His body letting go for me.
I wanted him to remember tonight, to grow desperate in the truck tomorrow because all he wanted was to bask in the memories and make new ones while dealing with the impossibility of it on the road.
It would be a different type of edging, one I doubted he’d need much of a guiding hand with.
“I’m not going to stop, Cam.” It was both a warning and a tease, a reminder of the game he had agreed to play. The new rules he had added to it without anyone’s input. “This is what you asked for, isn’t it? You want me to keep making you come until you can’t take it anymore?”
“I can’t,” he started saying.
“I think you can.”
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 added good feeling 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 give me.
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.