34. Colton
THIRTY-FOUR
COLTON
The cuffs are therapeutic for us both, and I’d never heard of immersion therapy until recently. But Dr. Milovich has me fully convinced, despite the fact that I’d initially been skeptical when I’d heard he advised us both to face our fears head-on.
For me, I was fine with it.
But for Kinleigh, it seemed to me that throwing her into the lion’s den to face her fears was cruel and callous, and could potentially slow down her healing time.
“Trust the process,” he’d said when advising us to introduce restraints in our intimate life.
We’d both been restrained and held captive, though to varying degrees. In order for me to fight the urge to panic at the sound of metal chains clinking together, or the feel of something wrapping my wrist, his advice was to find pleasure in the bindings to prove to myself that the feelings I’d come to associate with those things were, in actuality, nothing to be fearful of. Not anymore.
Kinleigh’s immersion focused more on the act of sex itself. She’d freely given me her body a few times while I was captive, but those times I myself was chained up. Slowly, Dr. Milovich advised, get comfortable making love without anyone restrained, but until she gets there, restrain me. Give us both a goal to work toward.
It seemed unconventional.
I even googled immersion therapy.
Hell, I took us both to another doctor right outside Buffalo Trails, and when I presented him with Milovich’s course of treatment, he’d said, “That sounds unconventional but perhaps just what both of you need.”
We went back to Milovich, and we’ve been going three times a week. Twice a week, Kinleigh sees him alone, and once a week, we see him together. He’s already talking about reducing Kinleigh’s solo appointments based on how well she’s doing.
“I’m sorry,” she repeats, the way I’ve learned she’s been taught to do—apologize for things she has no reason to say sorry for. I’m gonna break her of that habit, but only when she’s ready. The cuff clicks closed and my cock thickens knowingly.
“Don’t be sorry, Kinney,” I tell her as she trails around the bed, locking the second set of cuffs around my other wrist, held tight to the bedpost. Stress visibly leaves her as she steps back, surveying the scene.
She swipes at a tear she doesn’t let me see fall. “I know I can trust you,” she breathes. “So why does my body calm when you can’t touch me?”
I smile at her, unafraid of her demons, ready to wade through them together, however long it takes. All I ever wanted was for her to be mine, and now that she is, I refuse to complain that it looks slightly different than I’d imagined. I have her. She’s what I want. The rest are just details to be ironed out, and my iron is goddamn piping.
“Your body needs to relearn that when a man is inside you, it’s a good thing.”
Her eyes topple down my bare chest to my erection, currently tenting my boxers. “Why don’t you freak out being handcuffed?” she asks, knowing the answer full well but asking anyway. It’s part of her anxiety, needing to hear the facts on repeat.
Calmly, I tell her, “When I’m free, when we’re done, I feel so good from having made love to you that the cuffs lose meaning. Each time you cuff me and fuck me, I get less and less nervous about the cuffs. The good memories are outweighing the bad.” She nods along with my words as she knees her way onto the bed, straddling me. The tip of my boxer-sheathed cock grazes her center, wet and radiating heat.
“I’m gonna learn how to make love to you in a way that isn’t this,” she says, reaching into my boxers to free my aching cock. Her hand wraps it, and her eyes flutter closed as a soft moan fills the quiet space. “I love how you feel,” she breathes quietly, the comment making my chest tight. You always want the woman you’re going to sleep with to love your cock, but knowing that my cock makes Kinney feel good after what she’s been through? Pride swarms my chest, inflating it a bit.
“I love you,” I tell her, and she repeats it back to me as she sinks down on my erection, drinking up every last inch with a breathy exhale.
Since we’ve been back together, we’ve been trying to backfill the time we lost, sharing moments from the last ten years apart. She sifts her fingers through the trimmed, dark hair on my chest, slowly building up her rocking momentum.
Watching Kinleigh orgasm is the best thing I’ve laid eyes on. Better than any glowing sunrise or empyrean evening. More breathtaking than a rose surviving a heavy rain, or an undying ember flickering from the snow. She is beautiful, inside and out, each breath she takes, every word she speaks. But when she’s on top of me, when I’m tunneling and filling her, when she’s clinging to my chest and moaning my name, it’s something I can’t look away from. I come with my eyes open now, watching her react to the seed I sow inside of her.
She always bites her bottom lip. Her eyes flutter. One of her hands comes to her collarbone, grabbing mindlessly as she utters, whimpers and moans my name.
“Colton, Colton, Colton,” she praises, over and over, and to fit perfectly with the best thing I’ve seen, her chanting my name is the best thing I’ve ever heard.
I once feared she’d never speak again. That the evil in this world stripped her of choice and took her voice, and that I’d never have her back, not in any meaningful capacity.
“You came back to me,” I murmur as my orgasm slides down my spine and tightens in my groin like a hot coal needing escape.
She nods and rides, her hips moving faster and faster by the moment.
We haven’t mastered long sex sessions. In a way, we’re both still teenagers when we’re alone and our bodies come together. Urgent and needy, we’re both in a hurry to feel one another. I ache to be inside her, she longs to feel me there, and once I’m cuffed and she’s on top of me, we can’t wait. All we want to do is race to the edge, lock hands and jump off together, every goddamn time.
The fact we don’t use condoms doesn’t help.
The soft glide of my bare cock through her swollen lips when she teases me is erotic enough to make me come, but then she’ll sink down on me, my cock plunging until there’s nowhere left to go. We usually take a minute then to calibrate.
She skipped that tonight, sliding down onto me without warning. And now she rocks and moans, leaning down every few seconds to pepper my lips in wet, passionate kisses. My chains rattle as she gains momentum, and I can truly say the sound no longer sets my senses on edge.
“Colton,” she moans, my name a warning now as her hips gain speed, the bed creaking loudly into the night. I lift my hips off the bed just slightly at the same time she grinds deeper onto my cock, and we erupt together.
My cum paints her insides in bold, hot streaks, her perfect little cunt clenching all around me.
“Kin,” I grit out, watching her as my eyes threaten to roll back into my head from the exquisite pleasure. But again, I refuse to take them off of her.
Weeks ago, I thought this would never happen. I feared I lost her when she was in my arms that night, riding back to this very house.
I refuse to look away now.
She tightens around me as she draws a hand to her perfect breast, cupping it as her head topples back, ecstasy making her tremble. The smooth slope of her exposed neck calls to me, and I know as soon as the cuffs are off, I’m going to drag my tongue over every inch.
For now, she drains every drop from my pulsing cock, the way she always does. I love how she does it so sweetly, too. No fuck mes or you’re so bigs like with one-night stands. Her hands roam my chest affectionately, her hips gain momentum gradually, her heart pounds frantically. She makes love to me, whether it’s fast or slow, and cuffs or not, I love her more each time.
She uncuffs me after she slithers off, pressing her hot lips to my bare chest repeatedly until her mouth is on mine. This next part surprises me every time, even though I know it’s coming.
It’s so dirty but also… fuck, I don’t know. I scratch my chest as I watch her delicately slip me from her body before sliding down, between my legs. Her eyes gleam up at me, and my heart hammers at the depth of her gaze. She smiles, then slips my sticky, stiff cock between her puffy pink lips, cradling me in her tongue. Softly, tenderly, she sucks me, her eyes closing slowly as her hand comes to gently knead my balls.
I can’t come again.
But that’s not the point.
It’s something I’ve definitely read about in men’s magazines, but nothing I’ve ever experienced or even fantasized about because it seemed too far out. Too unrealistic. Far too private for someone like me to share with someone else, I’m too private, my mother’s strict manners are engrained too deep.
But with Kinleigh.
The way she holds me in her mouth, moving between sucking softly and just holding calm and still drives me wild. She makes my goddamn heart race. I’ve never felt so drawn to or connected to another human. Showing her softness doesn’t make me feel weak but rather, the privacy and depth we now explore and share makes me proud.
Loving her gives purpose to my soul, and makes my life worth living.
I realize now that my life was just on hold without her. I wasn’t living before, but I am now.
She smoothes her hands over my thighs while my cock rests on her tongue, the roof of her mouth teasing my crown. Still, nothing is sexual. It feels good but the silent connection after intense sex feels better.
After a few more minutes, she crawls up the bed and settles against me, sighing when my arm tucks into her protectively.
I kiss her forehead.
We whisper to one another as moonlight paints amorphous shapes against the wall, dripping on the foot of the bed. She cries because she loves me so much, and she can’t believe she’s free.
I hold her tightly and tell her that I will love her forever.
Because I will.
I tell her that we will have a beautiful life and a gorgeous, healthy family together. She falls silent at that, and shortly after, her breathing grows lazy and I realize she’s fallen asleep.
Reproductively speaking, her doctor’s appointments have shed a lot of light on what Forrest actually did to Kinleigh. She was led to believe she’d been sterilized, and because she’d never been out with her girlfriends and subject to normal teen and young adult chatter, she didn’t know what an IUD looked like. But that’s what he’d done–sedated her, gaslit her, led her to believe she’d had the ability to bear children stripped away from her, all so he could freely rape the woman that he should have called his daughter. It makes me sick. Absolutely sick. So much so that I try not to focus on it. Instead, I focus on the good news. Despite the fact that the shoddy doctor Forrest hired did damage to her uterine walls, which led to loss of her period among other side effects, having a child together isn’t out of the question. He didn’t say conception was impossible for her.
He only called it “ quite challenging ” and noted that we would likely “ want to pray .”
It changes nothing for me. We can have a family in so many different ways, whether it’s one born from our DNA or adopted, I will love any child in my care that I get to raise with Kinleigh.
Now all I need to do is make sure she feels the same.