Chapter Eleven
What a stubborn little shit Benji has proven to be.
This thought filters through my head with a fair amount of amusement.
Last I checked, the Little has managed to stay dry despite squirming and clenching his thighs together for the last half an hour.
His potty dancing has been adorable and entertaining, if nothing else.
But, damn, he’s really making me work for the pay-off.
As we walk up the little hill to the private cabins, I can tell Benji's stubbornness is about to be overridden by his body. His walking has changed pace, his strides becoming shorter and tighter; more a shuffle than a walk. It’s a weak last-ditch effort to maintain control.
And my cock is getting harder, more than into the idea of watching Benji finally lose that stubborn control.
Of course, at this stage, I am not going to make it easy for Benji. Considering how hard he has fought to ‘win’ and prove his point, I want to push him beyond every possible boundary, especially now that he’s in an adult headspace.
Turning the key in the lock, I pause before pushing the door open, casually telling him, “If you won't use the diaper or the potty, you have to keep holding it.”
Benji's expression twists, but he visibly grits his teeth and nods, attempting (and failing) to seem nonchalant. God, he’s cute. “Whatever gets you off,” he says with a wave of his hand.
I politely ignore the tremble in it and let him inside. This cabin is slightly larger than Benji’s, with a small living area that seems to be decorated with Little-play in mind. I gesture towards the tiny loveseat which faces the television. “Take a seat.”
Benji clenches his thighs together and fidgets some more as he complies, and it takes every inch of my self-control to hide my amusement and arousal, even while my cock begs for the watersports he's pretty much been promised.
Soon, I reassure myself silently, but what comes out of my mouth is: “I think we should get you out of that diaper now that you're Big. It probably feels weird not being regressed, right?” My lips pull into a smirk, knowing exactly how this is going to play out, but unable to resist taunting him, “Unless you think you need it.”
He purses his perfect, pouty lips. “I don't.”
“Okay.” I strip the bed down to the waterproof mattress protector, taking my time to make Benji squirm.
I can hear his breathing getting heavier and louder while I carefully fold the bedding and set it all aside, before grabbing one of the large plastic sheets I always travel with in my kink bag.
I cover the bed with it, explaining, “Just in case you're not telling the truth.” Finally looking at him again, I demand, “Shorts off, get on the bed.”
Benji's breathing is shallow and hitching as he walks over stiffly from the couch. He whimpers a little as he climbs into place, quickly clamping his legs together once he's on his back in the middle of the sheet. There’s a beautiful flush creeping up his neck.
“Safe words are still in effect,” I remind him. “Color?”
With pink cheeks and a clenched jaw, Benji nods. “Green.”
“You still think you don't need the diaper, sweetheart?”
We both know he does need it, but neither of us wants him to say so.
He juts his chin, still so boldly defiant. “It's dry, isn't it?”
Nevertheless, Benji whines as my palm spreads over the white, padded front, slipping between his thighs to spread them apart a little. But, true to his word, there's no sign of wetness. That does surprise me at this point.
So freaking stubborn.
The thought is laced with affection. Even if I haven’t known him for long, I love how strong and feisty he is. But I’m still on a mission.
“Okay. Let's get you out of it, then.” Gently pushing at his thighs, I make him bend his knees and part his legs fully in the standard pose for a diaper change. This will be the beginning of the end of Benji's control, with him unable to use pressure to hold the release back. We both know it.
Benji's Adam's apple bobs, the gulp audible in the quiet of the cabin. I want to bottle the sound, backed as it is by his panted breaths. I wonder if I could set it as my phone’s ringtone.
I torture him by slowly peeling back the sticky tabs of the diaper, holding my palm over his crotch to keep the material in place while I work.
As soon as I remove it and take away the last of the pressure over his crotch, Benji will break.
I just know it. I can sense it in the tremble of his thighs, and the way he’s holding himself so tensely.
He’s also at risk of biting through his bottom lip with how harshly he’s worrying it between his teeth.
Sure enough, when I peel the front of the diaper away, a couple of droplets of liquid spill from the tip of Benji's half-hard cock, and he whines, attempting to clench his thighs shut again.
“Looks like you're having a bit of an accident, bud.” I climb onto the mattress, staying on my knees between Benji's spread thighs, my knees tucked under their soft flesh, keeping them parted wide.
I tug my own aching cock free of my shorts and stroke it lazily, watching him slowly break beneath me.
The droplets become a tiny stream. Benji's whole body locks up in his last-ditch effort to hold back. I can see the veins in his neck straining with the effort, his eyes watering, too.
He’s beautiful like this.
I lean over him, bracing on my left forearm while I continue to slowly stroke myself between our bodies.
“You sure you can hold it?” I whisper against Benji's mouth, feeling the trickle of pee sluicing slowly down into the crevice between Benji's groin and thigh, wetting my shorts over my own thigh.
“It feels like you're already getting messy, honey.
You should have listened to Daddy, shouldn't you?”
The title slips out by accident, but it feels right, and Benji gasps out a quiet “Fuck” and he trembles. His face is red now, possibly with embarrassment, but I think it’s also with the valiant effort of struggling against the inevitable.
“Good boy for trying,” I murmur, then press my lips to his. He melts into the soft, sweet kiss when I slip my tongue into his mouth, and then a burst of hot liquid spills between our bodies before Benji jolts and whines as he finally loses control completely.
“Uh oh,” I grin, mouthing at Benji's ear as he sobs with relief, “someone lied to Daddy after all.” But I don’t think my words register.
Benji pees. And pees. And pees. The liquid is hot, the scent acrid and unmistakable, the feeling slippery and then sticky against my skin.
I revel in it, sucking a hickey into Benji's neck while I jerk my cock under the seemingly endless spray between us, until the force of it tapers off and I pull my urine-covered hand away, planting it on the other side of Benji's head, grinding my dick into the wetness between our bodies.
I’m throbbing for release now, but I’m too focused on Benji to come yet. “Such a dirty boy,” I say, the words more praise than admonishment.
I push up to look at him properly, his blond hair a messy halo around his head, his face pink and sweaty.
There are tear tracks down the sides of his face, traveling down his temples and into his ears, while the blue of his eyes is so bright, emphasized by the red rims hiding under his wet lashes. He looks wrecked. He looks perfect.
“Do you feel better now, honey?”
Blinking slowly, Benji tries to focus his glassy gaze up at me. “I made a mess.”
“A big mess, yes,” I rock my hips down against him again, and we both groan as his cock fills and hardens next to mine. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”
“Mmhmm.”
“You’re so hot, Benji. So fucking pretty when you lose control.”
A broken whine escapes him from somewhere in the vicinity of the back of his throat.
He thrusts up to meet me, his hard, sticky dick rubbing up against my erection deliciously while his fingers dig into my hips, offering me a hint of pain to distract from the overwhelming pleasure, or maybe to add to it.
Our bodies rock together like this for a few extended moments, with words too difficult to form.
I want to tell him how perfect he looks —how perfect he feels— but my brain is staticky, buzzing with the sensations surrounding me.
Our breathing is ragged, with panted breaths echoed between us.
We’re damp and sticky and ultimately kind of filthy, but the messiness of what we’re getting off on only makes the whole experience hotter.
“Daddy,” Benji almost whispers, closing his eyes as he writhes, “I’m going to come.”
“Fuck, yes, baby. Do it. Make us even messier.”
Beneath me, he whimpers and opens his eyes, looking so wrung out that I want to roar with pride, like some caveman. “Kiss me?”
I’ve been holding back since that first kiss, knowing that one touch of his lips against mine will break my own control, but I can’t resist him now. Not when he practically begs for it.
Dipping my head, I bring our mouths together, breathing in his hitching breaths and stuttered moans.
“You gonna come for me, honey?” I urge against his lips, feeling the last hold on my own release slipping, “Lose control again?”
“Nnngh,” he bucks upwards, hissing, “make me, Daddy.”
Fuck, he’s still such a brat. Even now, on the edge of orgasm, moments after telling me how close he is. I love his fire so damn much. It only pushes me closer to the edge while we frot, our precum the only thing adding to the friction between us.
“Re—oh fuck—remember my rule,” I manage to bite out, hoping I sound firm instead of desperate, “only good boys get rewards.”
With our mouths still only inches apart, I can feel his smirk more than I can see it.
“But the...mmmm…the reward was in the…in the…” He sounds distracted, his hips moving almost frantically under mine.
“Um…oh, fuck…the reward was in the instruction.” There’s breathy relief in the last few words, as if he’s glad to have remembered what he was saying at all.
“Exactly,” I chase his lips for another kiss, desperate for him to come first, “so you do as I say and get the reward all in one.”
Honestly, I’m not even sure if what I’m saying makes sense anymore.
“Be good for me, Benji. Come for Daddy. Make us messier again.”
Like the other day, that idea seems to be his tipping point. He all but howls, his body convulsing as splashes of new thick, sticky warmth reach my belly and over my cock.
“Yes!” I rut into him with abandon after the first spurt, finally allowing my own body to chase its release, “Feels so good, honey. So good. So…unggggghh.” My rambled praise melts into a deep groan as my orgasm practically explodes from me.
“Oh my god,” he murmurs, sounding almost delirious and giddy, wriggling underneath me and panting while I grind our combined fluids into his skin. “Oh my god.”
I agree with the sentiment completely.