Wow.
He’s a bit of a contradiction. He clearly craves —and obviously gets off on— praise, but he’s determined to push boundaries and make getting that praise even harder for himself. He seems to want to be good, butneedsto be a brat. He’s bashful and shy…and thenreallyenjoys performing for people. I even think he might have a bit of a humiliation kink, which he didn’t mention earlier but which would have been good to know because I probably wouldn’t have gone straight into spanking, considering how close to the edge I’d known he was.
Still, watching him fall apart was glorious.
The way his lips had parted and his eyes fluttered shut, long, dark lashes dusting rosy, red cheeks. The way he’d whined ‘Daddy’; panicked, apologetic, but with a touch of euphoria…Fuck, I’ve never been so close to coming untouched during a scene, either.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, barely loud enough for me to catch, completely pulling me out of my happy musings.
I frown and rest my cheek against him, tempted to try and get him to make eye-contact, but not wanting to make his comedown uncomfortable. “Why?”
“I broke the rule,” his breath turns shuddery, before his tone takes on a steely, self-deprecating edge, “andI started crying. Jesus. That’ssohot in porn, isn’t it?”
“Dacryphilia is actually a kink…” I muse, then snort when he pulls back to give me a flat, unimpressed stare. The expression turns startled when I smile and kiss the tip of his nose. “But the crying is just the come down from the rush of endorphins and stuff.” A stray thought hits me. “Is that the first time you’ve cried from sub drop?”
“I…” Miles pauses, tilting his head to the side. “That quickly and unexpectedly? Yeah. I mean, I’ve been irritable after scenes, maybe a bit weepy and depressive a couple of hours later, but…nothing that sudden.”
Still stroking his back, I keep my tone gentle as I prod, “What made this time different, do you think?”
“Aside from the fact that it was with you, and I guess I put you on a pedestal —a totally valid one, so far, by the way— I guess…well, there was a lot going on.”
“Can you talk me through that?”
“I, uh,” he clears his throat and looks away, “I just discovered that I have a bit of a humiliation kink, I think. And, um, that Ireallylike the idea of people watching me. Us. That’s never really been a thing for me before, but…well, I haven’t done many performative scenes, either. They’re usually one-on-one. Maybe with only one other couple watching. But this…” Miles sits up a bit straighter and waves his hand around the studio. “This is an actualaudience, y’know? Not other kinky people who are also naked and vulnerable, but…people who are fully dressed and seemingly impassive and…holy shit, yeah, that’s…that’s a surprising new turn-on for me.” He glances down the length of his body, where the outline of his spent dick is already firming up again, more than obvious through the wet mess he’s made of himself. His blush comes back. “Wow.”
Fuck me, but he’s adorable.
“So, you had no idea you enjoy being embarrassed? Or that you’ve got an exhibitionist kink?” He shakes his head and at least that explains why he didn’t say anything earlier.
I smile. “Well, they do go hand-in-hand nicely.”
“Yeah,” he looks down again, rueful, and scrunches his nose. “I would have said something. I mean, you knew about the praise kink, and you dragged that out, so…”
“We’ve got plenty of time to play around with all your kinks, precious, don’t worry. But, for now,” I gesture towards his crotch, “let me clean you up, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy.”
The way my heart skips a beat over the sweetly spoken agreement, with Miles still a little soft and pliant from the scene and the orgasm, spikes a tiny frisson of terror inside me.
This is just part of our roles, I tell myself, even though I know the cameras aren’t rolling and Miles is at his most open, genuine and vulnerable.Do not get attached.
I’m a little concerned that it’s already too late for that.
Some professional I am.
***
“Are you comfortable continuing?” I ask Miles once he’s clean and has changed into a pair of bright red boxer briefs which have molded to his skin and leave nothing to the imagination.
I’m wearing my long, red jacket like a robe, cinched around my belly with a long length of fuzzy white material which I think has actually been borrowed from a bathrobe. My legs are bare, and I keep catching Miles’s gaze lingering on the tops of my hairy thighs.
We’ve hydrated, and I made sure he snacked on some celery and carrot sticks, as well as a handful of grapes to replenish his energy. He nods and I signal to Jake that we’re good to go.
He sets the thermos of coffee he was drinking from down on the snacks cart and heads back over to his seat.
“That first scene was capital Hhot, guys,” he declares enthusiastically. “Your chemistry is off the charts.”
“No notes?” Miles asks, and I arch an eyebrow at him, confused by the question, until he follows with, “You told us to make love and then we, uh…went a bit off-script, so to speak.”
