Chapter Nineteen
James
Everything with Colton is so different from the Doms I’ve played with in the past. Probably because those were random one-off scenes with people I didn’t really know, people who didn’t know me.
Colton knows more about me than anyone, really.
I’ve never been one to share. I tuck everything away, folded nice and pretty in a box buried inside me, and move on because dwelling doesn’t change anything.
Yet he knows about Sandra—not everything, but some—and about Sadie and Nash.
About all my desires, even the ones I’m ashamed of or don’t even know I have.
He puts on a pair of pants and a T-shirt from his backpack, and then we go downstairs. While he goes to his truck, I stand in my living room, naked and feeling like an idiot, not knowing what I should do.
He comes back a few minutes later, carrying a small cooler. “You brought food?”
“How else would I make sure I have what I need to feed you? Come into the kitchen and sit.”
I scurry after him, wanting to obey everything he says. I pull out a chair at the table while Colton puts the cooler on the counter and begins pulling items out.
“Why don’t you live here?”
“Hm?”
“In this house. Why don’t you live here?”
I shrug. “I did a lot of investing in my life, saved a lot of money, tried to get ahead. I need to feel…secure in that way. I bought this house as an investment, not a place to live.”
He nods, but I can tell he’s not satisfied.
“Why? What’s wrong with where I live?”
He chuckles. “Nothing, baby. I haven’t even seen where you live, remember? I just…I don’t know, having this big, beautiful house here and leaving it empty, not even renting it out, made me curious. And then with having the kids now, it just surprised me.”
“Baby?” I ask because that’s all I can seem to focus on.
Colton leans against the counter, facing me. “Yes. Is there a problem with that?”
He’s asking me if it’s a limit. I’m not sure how to answer him. I’ve never been in a situation to be someone’s baby. How can I be forty years old and never have been someone’s baby?
“You good?” He walks over, stands in front of me. He tilts my head up the way he does, the way I like. “What are you thinking?”
“I’ve never been someone’s baby.” What a dumb thing to say. What an immature, emotionally stunted—
“I’ve never had one either.”
“You’re twenty-eight.”
“Almost twenty-nine.”
I frown. “When is your birthday?”
“December. No changing the subject. Are you okay with being mine?”
Say no. Run. “Yes.”
“Good boy.” He kisses me before moving to the cabinets, searching them as if he’s completely at home here. He grabs a pan and puts ground beef into it, then finds a knife and the cutting board and starts chopping an onion. “You like investing?”
“I do. I’ve learned a lot about the stock market and such. My brain does well with that kind of thing.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. Where did you grow up?”
Have I really never told him this before? “Oregon. Small town there. The kids had never even left the state before I brought them here.”
“Where did you go to college?”
He continues to ask me questions while he cooks—about college, how I ended up in the area, when I realized I’m submissive, more about my sexual history, friendships and things like that. When I mention Henry again, he says, “Do you like him?”
“As in do I want to date him or sleep with him?”
“Fuck no. Then me and him would have beef.” He winks. It’s the most ridiculous thing in the world but also the most adorable.
“Oh, so you want to fight him for me?”
“I would,” he teases. “Do you want to be friends with him?”
I shrug. “We’re different.”
“People who are different can be friends.”
“I don’t even know what to say to him half the time. He’s…a lot, but yes, I do like him. He’s a good guy, good at his job. He can be funny when he’s not annoying.”
Colton laughs. “Ringing endorsement. You should do something with him sometime, if you want. It’s okay to have friends, James.”
I scoff, slightly frustrated. “I know that.”
But do I really? Henry has tried for years, and I don’t ever make it easy on him. I’m surprised he hasn’t given up already.
“Maybe,” I say, when he lets me stew for a moment.
“Lunch is done. I made enough for leftovers—if you want to take some home for the kids for dinner or whatever.” I nod, and he walks over and sits. “Serve us.”
“Yes, Sir.” It’s not until I’m on my feet at the counter that I remember I’m naked. I don’t know how I forgot. I guess just because he distracted me with conversation.
He made spaghetti, salad, and garlic bread. I pull the plates down, scoop some of everything on each one. I set a plate in front of him first, then set mine down. I get us ice water next, then sit.
“It’s really weird to be naked when you’re not.”
“Is it? Or do you just feel like it should be? Do you like it because you know it’s what I want? That I want to be able to see you and…” He leans forward, plays with my soft cock. “And touch you anytime I want?”
I tremble, all my pleasure receptors going wild. “I do like it.”
“I thought so.” I’m surprised when he reaches over, grabs my fork, and twists some pasta and sauce onto it before holding it in front of my face.
“Open.” I do as he says, Colton feeding me.
As I chew, he continues. “I brought a copy of my STI testing. It’s in my bag.
I’ll show you upstairs, but I’m negative across the board and on PrEP.
Since we’ll be doing this for an extended period of time and neither of us will be with anyone else, I’d like you to consider whether you’d like to go raw with me.
Not today. Think about it, have your testing done if it’s something you would want to do. ”
I nod, heart thudding. I’ve never done that before. At forty years old, there are so many things I’ve never done. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good.” He scoops spaghetti onto garlic bread, holding up another bite for me, which I take.
“Are you going to continue feeding me?”
“Maybe. Do you like it?”
Do I? There’s something incredibly sexy about it, but even more than that, there’s something sweet and caring about it. “Yes.”
“Then yes.”
“Are you going to eat?”
He gives me his playful grin. “Eventually.”
He continues feeding me, every couple of bites stopping to take one of his own. When I tell him I’m done, he nods, then digs into his food, scooping bites into his mouth, asking me random questions about myself as he does.
When he’s finished, he says, “I’ll clean up the kitchen, then pack the leftovers into Tupperware for you to bring home. I’d like you to go upstairs and freshen up if you need to, then lie on your stomach on the bed and wait for me.”
My pulse kicks up a notch, my hunger for him reigniting. I can’t wait to see what he’ll do to me, to feel it, to lose myself in the pleasure Colton is so good at giving me. “I…thank you, Sir.”
I hope he realizes how much I mean that, that I’m thanking him for everything.
He doesn’t reply with words, instead pulling me down so I’m eye level with him, grabbing my face and sealing our mouths together in a kiss.
*
It feels like Sir is downstairs much longer than he needs to be.
I finished in the bathroom what feels like hours ago, though I know it hasn’t been anything close to that.
Knowing him, he’s waiting as long as he can, trying to make me suffer with how long he leaves me here needy for him.
My toes dig into the mattress as I lie here, close to the edge, wanting to rut onto the bed to get some friction on my cock.
A moment later I hear footsteps on the stairs…one…two…three, moving much slower than he needs to. The second he’s in the room, I tell him, “You’re a sadist.”
“Why do you say that? Is my boy needy?”
My whole body flushes with heat. Hearing him speak to me that way is one of the most potent aphrodisiacs. “Yes, Sir.”
“I thought as much. Can I unlock the closet?” He’s shirtless now, still in his jeans, but now with the button and zipper open—just another way for him to torture me.
“Yes, Colton.”
I turn my head to watch him, see him come out with a brush. My ass instantly clenches, burning at just the thought of what it will feel like when he spanks me with it.
Colton sets it on the bed beside me, then puts a Gatorade on the nightstand. “Such a pretty little bubble butt.” He rubs his hand over my cheeks, making the hair on my legs rise. “I want it red for me when I fuck it.”
“Yes, Sir.” The two words already have a needy edge to them, are charged with the kind of want I’m not sure I ever felt before him.
A second later, the warmth of his palm is gone, before it comes down hard and sharp against my skin, making a slapping sound echo through the room. It vibrates through me, this cascade of pain and pleasure that meet up at the most perfect place, bringing me exactly where I long to be.
“Again,” I beg.
“I’m getting there, dreamer.”
He spanks me, alternating cheeks. Over and over and over, Sir’s hand slaps down on my skin, each time making the burn there spread, skate along my skin, down my thighs and up my back, though he’s not hitting me in either of those places.
The pleasure just grows, expands, runs down to my feet and up to my head, triggering endorphins and making me feel like I’m flying.
He spreads my cheeks, spits on my hole, rubs his saliva in, then pushes a finger inside me.
“Oh God.” My hands clutch at the pillows, gripping them tightly with the hard thrusts of his finger-fucking.
“You should see yourself—red-assed, finger up your butt, a slutty little mess begging for more, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Sir. It’s so good.”
I don’t know how to explain why it is, and I’m not sure the why of it matters.
I just know that doing this transports me somewhere else, opens my mind and sets me free in a way I never am without it.
I don’t feel like the awkward man who doesn’t know how to relate here.
I’m not the guy with the fucked-up parent and no friends.
I’m sexy and sexual, my mind traveling to places I could only ever dream about without this.
Colton continues sliding his finger in and out as he spanks my ass with his other hand. I’m rutting against the bed now, dick hard and aching, ass on fire, but somehow it’s not enough.
“More…can I have more, please?”
“You ask so beautifully,” Colton tells me, the compliment shooting me higher.
When he pulls his finger out, I instantly miss it, but then he’s picking up the brush, and I know that the pain he inflicts with it will be even more intense.
And I want it.
Maybe more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
If it’s too much, I know what to say.
“Count for me,” he instructs before the back of the brush smacks against my already sore ass.
“One!” I call out.
He didn’t hit me hard, I know he didn’t, but damn do I feel it. I’m going to feel it all day, will feel it tomorrow, and I can’t fucking wait. I want the evidence of what we’ve done to stay with me. Every time I sit down, I want to be reminded of Colton and what he does to me…what he gives me.
Another smack.
“Two!” I say just as loudly.
Smack.
“Three!” The pain is intensifying now, in all the best ways. I don’t get it, why the pain is good, why I crave it, but I do, and I have for as long as I can remember.
Smack.
“Four!”
Smack.
“Five!”
He smooths his calloused hand over my ass cheeks, rubbing them gently. “I wish you could see how beautiful your submission is, see how open you become here, with me, under my control. It’s amazing what giving up control can do to you.”
“Yes,” I reply because it is and he’s right. I know it just as well as he does.
“What is your color, dreamer?”
“Green,” I say easily. I’m not done yet. I want more.
I whimper when he leans down, kisses one ass cheek, then the other, before standing straight again.
Smack.
“Six!”
“You take my pain so well.”
Smack.
“Seven!” I taste my tears now, salty and liberating.
Smack.
“Eight!” The word comes out rougher, harder to manage, but I’m not ready to stop.
“You good?” he asks, pausing, dancing his fingertips over my burning skin.
“Yes, Sir. I’m perfect.” And I am, so fucking perfect, I don’t want it to ever end.
“You are,” he replies before letting the brush crash into me again.
“Nine!” I grit my teeth, writhe against the bed, body on fire, cock painfully hard.
“One more. You can do it. Take one more for me, okay?”
“Yes, Sir. I want…want it. Please let me have one more.” I can’t see through my tears.
Crying isn’t something I let myself do often, it’s not something I ever do outside of situations like this.
I don’t want the tears then, don’t want the emotions that come with them, but in this safe space, the tears can flow freely.
They come from the pain I crave, but it’s only the gateway, opening me up and letting me feel everything else I need to feel.
“You don’t even know what you do to me, James. I’m so fucking addicted to you.”
His touch is gone, and I hold my breath, waiting for the next slap. I cry out when it comes, the smack echoing through the room, making me burn in the pleasure it leaves behind.
“Ten!” My orgasm moves in swiftly, taking over, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it, cum spurting beneath me all over the blanket.
I break down then, turn into a heaping mess, crying, rolling into a ball, but Colton is there, climbing into the bed beside me, pulling me into his arms, running his fingers through my hair, his breath against my skin.
“Shh. I’m here. Your Sir has you. Let go.
Cry for me. You’re so beautiful when you cry.
Let it all out.” He kisses all over my face—lips, cheeks, forehead, chin, even the tip of my nose.
He doesn’t seem to mind the tears, which makes them flow more, like I don’t want to stop giving him something to kiss away.
So I just…keep crying…keep being held by him…keep letting him take care of me, until everything goes black.