Chapter one
Gray
The hands on my body feel different. I don’t recognize them, nor the gentle way they are touching me. Confident, firm strokes with a warm wet cloth. Cleaning my skin.
The human smells pleasant. Citrus and wood. It makes me wonder what they look like, but I will not open my eyes. I never open my eyes.
I move my hands a little. Chains rattle dully. I’m still bound. But the bed beneath me feels different. I’ve been moved to somewhere new. Once, that would have scared me. Once I would have cared.
“Do you want to roll over so I can wash your back?” a deep, masculine voice rumbles.
How does he know I am awake? Nevermind. It doesn’t matter. Listlessly, I roll over. The chains clang.
“I’ll take those off when you are feeling better,” the voice says.
Lies. Not even worth responding to.
Confident hands run down my back and ass. The cloth is very warm. It feels good. My hunger spikes, and I shiver in misery.
“They haven’t been feeding you properly, have they?”
He sounds sad, but not surprised. Almost resigned. The cloth vanishes.
“I’m going to feed you now,” he says.
I hate the whimper that comes out of my mouth.
He positions himself between my legs. Oiled fingers stroke my hole. I tense and growl.
“None of that,” he says calmly.
He is not scared. Or angry. Or excited by the challenge. I’m so shocked that I fall silent and still as he continues his ministrations.
“Good boy,” he says, and he sounds pleased and proud.
I’m not good. I’m not really a boy. Not a human one anyway. Why do I like his words so much? While I wrestle with my startled confusion, he opens me up and oils me well. As he gets into position over me, I don’t want to fight, scratch, or bite. It’s a bewildering feeling.
His hands take my hips as if he has every right to, and slowly, he takes me. Sinking into my body with his cock.
He fucks me. Over and over again. Long and hard. When he rests, he pushes a toy inside me, a toy that pushes against my sweet spot and vibrates. It keeps me gasping, writhing and moaning for him until he is ready to fill me himself once more.
He gives only a soft grunt when he gives me his seed. He ignores my whines, my sobs, my gasps. He just calmly, methodically, keeps working. Working at stuffing cum into me and keeping me keening with pleasure.
“The more you are enjoying it, the better you will absorb it,” he said at one point. “That’s why you haven’t been sated. They weren’t giving you enough, and they weren’t caring for your pleasure.”
Hours pass. It could even be days. I’m panting as I drift down from yet another orgasm. His cock is inside me, but motionless. I’m lying on my stomach. His fingers are twined in mine as he holds me down. His fingers are pale and covered with dark swirling patterns. The shape of them, their geometry, sparks something in my mind. I turn my hand to move his and see more.
He chuckles. “You like my tattoos?”
I clench. My eyes are open. When did I open my eyes?
He thrusts lazily into me. Rocking us gently until he spills with a soft sigh. He pulls out and I don’t like not feeling him. No part of his body is touching any part of mine. It feels unnatural. I don’t like it.
“How about you roll over and let me see you?”
I roll over and blink up at him. He is tattooed all over, all the way up to his face. He has a neatly trimmed gray beard. And gray hair swept back off of his face and tied back. A few strands have fallen free. His torso is well defined with muscles. He is very handsome. I think humans would call him a silver fox.
He smiles at me, a big bright smile that flashes his white teeth. I like looking at him.
