Chapter Five #2
“Okay. Whenever you’re ready.”
He looks down, then back up at me from underneath his lashes, batting them coyly. “I’ve been ready for you all afternoon.”
I smother a snort, choosing to arch an eyebrow at him. “Benji…”
He sighs, but there’s still a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It’s a little rueful. “Can’t blame a Boy for trying,” he mutters, more to himself than for my benefit, before loudly adding, “Sorry, Daddy.”
He climbs out of his soiled shorts slowly, then slips his wet underwear off moments later, chewing on his bottom lip as his hard cock springs free and bobs in the air between us.
It’s flushed a deep pink, similar to his cheeks, the glossy, dark head having popped out from the foreskin now bunched beneath it.
I want to reach for it. To stroke it. To rub it up alongside my own aching shaft and demand that Benji let go all over me in every possible way he can.
But I can’t do that. Not when he hasn’t earned the reward.
Remaining silent, I undress in front of him, observing him as he watches my every move. I’m unhurried, which takes a lot more effort than I want to admit, and his obvious arousal feeds into my own.
“I’m turning the shower on and then I’m going to make sure you’re all cleaned up after your accident,” I tell him, ignoring the way his dick twitches with interest. “You can use your safe words at any time, okay?”
He swallows roughly before he nods. “Yes, Daddy.”
As much as I love hearing the title fall from his lips, I take a moment to assure him, “You don’t have to call me Daddy, Benji. I really enjoy it, but this is our first scene together, and we haven’t really negotiated—”
“I want to,” he interrupts, sounding far more earnest than he has all afternoon. His blush travels up to his ears, but he doesn’t shy away from explaining, “I like it. It feels right for you. For this. Better than Counselor Kris or…I don’t know, Sir, I guess.”
I scrunch my nose up at the latter. “I’ve never really thought ‘Sir’ worked for me, either.”
“Yeah…it doesn’t suit you. I like ‘Daddy’, though.” He shrugs. “I’m not one of those ‘you have to earn it’ people. I don’t…I’ve never really spent more than a scene or two with a Daddy before, so…yeah.”
There’s something additionally heartbreaking about that admission.
Has he really never had a Daddy of his own?
A proper Daddy/Boy relationship, even if only a short one?
I can’t imagine he has any reason to lie, so then I immediately want to know why.
Has he just not wanted that? It’s not unusual for people to indulge in kink only on occasion…
but that doesn’t really gel with the kind of person who would immerse themselves at a 24/7 camp for regression play.
Resolving to talk about it after our impromptu scene, I smile. “That’s fine. I just wanted you to know it’s not expected, okay?”
There’s another flash of something undefinable and soft in his eyes as he says, “Thank you.” It is quickly blinked away and replaced by another cheeky smile. “I’m still all icky, Daddy.”
“That’s what happens when you decide to go potty in your pants, honey.”
He squirms. I don’t bother hiding my grin. His teeth sink into his lower lip again, and I’m magnanimous enough to ignore his needy whimper.
He really does enjoy being teased. I could have so much fun with that.
A minute later, and I’m ushering him into the shower stall, the water temperature soothingly warm, but not hot considering the heat of summer permeating the cabin.
I’ve grabbed a washcloth from the stack of towels under the bathroom sink, and the bottle of fruit-scented bodywash from Benji’s toiletries bag.
“Now, do you remember what the rule is?” I ask while I squirt some of the soap onto the wet cloth.
He huffs, replying petulantly, “I’m not allowed to come.”
“Good boy.”
The challenging glint in his eye reappears, but it seems he’s learning, because he keeps his mouth shut and nods.
His shoulders are tense as I start to lather the soap over his chest and neck first, but he starts to loosen up when I move on to washing one arm and then the other, I get him to turn around and I repeat the motion across his upper back and down the backs of his arms, then check in for his traffic light color before swooping the cloth over his tight, firm butt and down the back of his thighs.
He braces a hand on the tiles and widens his stance when I bring the soapy cloth up again, pushing it in between his thighs, cleaning the skin here more thoroughly.
My cock jumps when he moans and pushes back against my hand, clamping his thighs around the cloth.
“Benji…”
“I know,” I don’t have to see his pretty face to know he’s rolling his eyes, “no coming.”
“Brat,” I scold gently, giving his pert ass cheeks a gentle, admonishing swat with my free hand. “Keep being a good boy for me and maybe you’ll get a reward after all.”
You’re a big, ol’ softie, Kris. This Boy is going to walk all over you if you let him.
My inner voice is not wrong. But with the tiny tidbits of information Benji has let slip so far, I can’t help thinking that he’s never known what it’s like to have a Daddy spoil him.
If this scene is our only interaction, I want to walk away knowing that someone has shown him a softer, sweeter kind of scene.
One where he can be a brat and can push boundaries, but where he can also be a bit more vulnerable if he wants to be.
I want to be the Daddy that gives him that safe space, who shows him that there’s more than one way to tame a brat.
He cooperates when I ask him to turn around, and I take care to wash the front of his legs and over his cock as efficiently as possible. He trembles as the soapy, sudsy cloth passes over his erection, but he doesn’t come or thrust in for more friction.
“Good,” I tell him, straightening up now that he’s been washed. “Rinse off, honey.”
He stands under the water’s spray, letting it do most of the work, and I praise him again when his hands barely brush over his crotch during his quick attempt to get rid of all the soap.
“Now,” I leer at him, and take my own dick in hand, using the remaining slickness from the washcloth to glide my fist up and down my shaft, “it’s your turn to watch Daddy make a mess.”
He leans against the tiles, sliding his hands behind his ass, presumably to hold them in place and avoid temptation. I want to tell him that I’m proud of that decision, but words are already evading me in my race to get myself off.
“Fuck, Daddy,” he practically mewls, his darkening gaze locked on the motion of my fist. His hips rock, bumping his ass up against his hands. “You’re so hot. This is so hot.”
“Not as hot as you,” I pant out, reaching out blindly with my spare hand to brace against the tiles beside his shoulder.
“You…you know what you did to me this afternoon, don’t you?
Which buttons you pressed. Mmmmph.” I shut my eyes as I moan, recalling the confidence and challenge on his face as he had planted his feet and deliberately let go as I’d watched. “Fuck, honey. How did you know?”
“I didn’t,” his answer is breathy. He sounds enraptured.
I force myself to open my eyes, to look at him.
He shrugs, but his gaze is still locked on my shuttling fist. “I was…I wanted to see how far I could push. When I…when I booked, I asked…I mean, I knew accidents wouldn’t be, like, instant red light, but… ”
My lips pull into a crooked, knowing smirk.
“It’s not an accident when you do it deliberately.
Oh, fuck…” I have to close my eyes again, tightening my grip so I don’t come too soon.
Not when I’m enjoying this conversation.
Discussing the kinks we so clearly share.
“Do you like more watersports than that?” I manage to ask, slowing my stroking once the immediate urge to come passes.
I open my eyes again, meeting his. “Or is it about the audience and embarrassment for you?”
Benji’s chest is flushed pink now, too, and his breathing is heavy.
But his hands are still planted against the wall, and he hasn’t broken the rule I set.
“I…I’ve never tried anything else. I…most of the time, the Daddies, y’know, punish me for deliberately wetting as part of the scene.
If…if they want to do it at all. I don’t usually, um, do it without negotiation first. Not… not like today.”
He’s right, of course, that under most circumstances, negotiation is expected.
But we caregiver types all knew what we were signing up for when we joined up as counselors at an age play camp.
Everyone here also knows that safe words can be used at any time.
As long as we’re all respecting each other’s space (which, seeing as Benji was standing a few feet away from me when he decided to experiment, he certainly did) and the safe wording rules, anything goes here.
Another caregiver might not have been turned on like I was —like I still am— but ‘accidents’ of this kind are common with our lifestyle, and I think we all expected to see, if not take part in, some kind of ABDL play during our time here.
Hell, most of the shared cabins have nursery rooms with change tables, and the little general store here sells extra adult-sized diapers to encourage people to indulge.
“Mmm.” My mind whirrs with possibilities. With the idea of introducing him to new experiences that I think he might love as much as I do. “You lucked out starting with me, then, honey,” I practically purr at him.
He grins, completely unrepentant. “Yeah, I worked that out…but I think you lucked out with me, too.”
God, his sassy attitude is just so hot.