Page 21

And I do, almost forgetting the soreness of my knee. I get on my knees, his good girl. He’s right, the anticipation is killing me. The excitement rushing through my body watching him unbuckle, seeing how much he is already bulging for me.

He’s doing it on purpose, taking his time unbuckling his belt. I don’t see why it needs pulling through the loops, he drops his trousers. Then he unveils my prize. And sweet Lord does it look like a prize. I instinctively reach for it, and as my hands get close I realise why he removed his belt, as it loops around my wrists.

“You don’t need your hands” he reassures, as he pulls them above my head, pinning them to the wall behind me. My eyelids must disappear in awe as I realise what he’s saying. Suddenly the excitement of the size of my prize seems ominous and daunting.

“Open” he commands, the soft firmness in his voice reassures me, and I open wide. My tongue protruding, resting on my lower lip. The slick smoothness of his head rests easily on my waiting tongue and I close my lips around it. I try to lean forward, desperate to take him in my mouth. And he pulls just far enough away that I can’t reach him.

Desperate frustration hits me long before I can think about the reality of me here. On my knees. Acting so thirsty, so cock hungry. But here I am. Salivating, desperate to have him hit the back of my throat.

Then he rewards my efforts, coming back into range. Stopping me when he’s halfway into my mouth, before pulling back again, just far enough that I can begin to worship him. To work my tongue with him inside my mouth, feeling every vein and groove. He starts to move closer, the surprise forcing my eyes open to realise how much of him remains dry. How much more there is for me to take.

He inches closer again, dutifully I take more of him. Deeper and deeper I work myself, until I find the limit to my depth. My excitement builds, and so does my momentum. Pushing my head closer and closer to his base until my gag reflex threatens. Inspired by his sounds of pleasure I keep going, and he positions himself closer, restricting my ability to retreat.

I try to speak and he shushes me gently, pulling my wrists slightly further up, interrupting my autonomy.

“You’re doing so well… now take a deep breath…” I do exactly as I’m told, trusting him completely as he angles my head, I try to swallow but can’t as my throat threatens to close around his throbbing member. Just as I’m about to gag, he withdraws.

I try to catch my breath just before he pushes back in, I feel my throat being squeezed, starting to make my eyes water. I almost start to panic, with my arms bound above me, my head nailed to the wall, and breath evading me. He leaves himself uncomfortably deep and my stomach gives way, seemingly adamant to eject its contents.

“Deep breaths through your nose… such a good girl”

I close my tearing eyes and focus on my breaths and finally I feel his base at my lips. Full of devilishly horny pride my enthusiasm is reinvigorated, now every thrust feels a reward. Bruising my throat he goes faster, pushes harder. My head knocks on the wall behind me, as he hardens and pulsates harder and harder in my mouth.

His slick shaft slides nearly all the way out of my mouth, releasing my throat from its captor, and gliding my lips to his head. Clamping my lips around him, teasing him with my tongue sends him over the edge; releasing pump after pump into my mouth. His low, guttural groan shows me his satisfaction and amplifies mine.

There’s so much. So much reward for my work. He pulls out, and his load follows, pouring down my chin and I gasp for the free, fresh air. Mascara running down my cheeks, he let go of the belt as soon as he pulled out.

He drops to one knee in front of me as I pant, a cum covered mess. And smiles, brushing a stray hair out of my face with his finger before following my jawline down. With his seed rapidly cooling on my face, shame threatens to invade the back of my mind, and my gaze drops. His finger finds the underneath of my chin and tilts me up to look at him.

“Beautiful”

I don’t even try to hide my grin at that one word, no matter how embarrassed I suddenly feel. He kisses my forehead, takes a towel in his hand, and gently wipes me clean. For a moment a strange, warmer feeling takes over from my other urges, and I let him clean me.

In my logical mind my wrists are still sore and my throat bruised. In the real world, his touch is electric. It can spark, it can start fires, and it can warm. And I am so fucking desperate to be his. Only his. Forever.

Fourteen

Sawyer

I manage to stand myself up and prop myself against the doorframe. Feeling all kinds of things. Horny is definitely amongst them. Resolved in my dedication and determination, I’m totally done with my pre-Nik life. At the same time there’s a whole load of resolution missing.

I rub my wrists, no physical marks are left now, but I can still feel his belt. I can still feel him in my throat. I blush remembering him calling me beautiful. Hearing and feeling how desperately he needed me, and how hard he released.

Before long I’m sat in my usual spot, waiting for Nik to prepare lunch. That’s our thing, our little routine, and I’ll be damned if we’re going to lose our little rhythm. He sees me perching, with a warmth in his eyes even if it evades his smile, he dusts his hands off and strolls towards me. Flutters… again? Down girl, seriously.

But instead of heading straight for the fridge, he beelines to me. As he gets closer I open my knees to let him stand closer, inviting him in. Standing between my legs, I’m surprised he can’t feel the heat radiating from me. His hands land firmly on my thighs and stay there, staring into my eyes.

“I’m working” he states in his usual dryness, in contrast to everything my body is doing

“I know” I mirror his choice of words, seasoned with my own bubbly wit and a coy smile

Maintaining pressure under his palms he slides his hands over the length of my thighs, almost ignoring my ass, and to my waist.

“You could make lunch” he informs me, and my stomach drops. The anxiety of accidentally killing him, of the responsibility of feeding him correctly, and also the pride in his trust in me to successfully feed him correctly whilst avoiding menu based manslaughter. I don’t say anything, I just keep looking at him, jaw swinging like a bag-head. He tries to calm and soothe me with “keep it simple”. Kinda patronising, Nik, not gunna lie. I’m still paralysed by his presence and this passing of the torch into domesticity. Am I some Queen now, enthroned with the sanctity of the kitchen?

Distracted from my thoughts, by his hands rolling and pulling me in. Instinctively I wrap my legs around his waist as he steps back from the corner, holding me up, making me float effortlessly as he always does. One hand traces its way up my spine, making my back arch ever so slightly away from him. Fingertips dance on the back of my neck and to the base of my skull. It’s enjoyable in a way that my stomach can’t define, it’s not sexual in itself. But it’s not soothing either. Then his hand makes his way deeper across my scalp, until he has a fistful of hair, holding my hair in place.

His nose runs the length of my neck and past my jaw, to my ear. I feel his cheek stiffen with that half smile as I nestle my face against his. His breathlessness telling me he’s about to say something, every hair standing on end in anticipation.