Page 13 of Collin, Episodes 10-12 (The Residency Boys #4)

“I find certain shapes and aesthetics pleasing,” Mr. Moreau said quietly.

He locked first one, then the other of Collin’s wrist cuffs to anchor points in the forward I-shaped bars.

“It’s my preference to be able to see your face at all times, which is not always easy for you to do.

So, I will help you like with this chain here.

” He tapped it. Then he ran his hand down Collin’s back, lifting and adjusting Collin’s torso on the padded bars.

“You will be here for a while. Let me see you rest more of your weight on the bars. Good. Relax.” He stroked his palms down Collin’s thighs, then lifted and cradled Collin’s knee.

“Although I do not prefer the look, today we will use pads. When I am filming or photographing, I generally avoid them. Today, however, will take time. There will be enough for you to handle without sorer knees than necessary.”

He wrapped soft padded leather around each of Collin’s knees, one at a time, setting them back down gently against the wood of the table. Then he lingered at Collin’s side, petting him from neck to hip and down the backs of his legs.

“So good for me, pet.”

It was easy to be good like this. He knew exactly what his sir wanted of him and where he was supposed to be.

The only irritating part was the drool. Collin’s saliva collected on the bar gag and dripped slowly to the table between his hands.

But if he tipped his face just right, it didn’t touch his chin.

Mr. Moreau came around the front and wiped Collin’s face with a soft towel. Then he swiped the drool off the table.

Collin sighed in relief

Mr. Moreau patted his shoulder. “It is the one drawback of gags,” he murmured. “But I will handle it for you unless I wish the mess to stay. As I told you, pay it no mind if you can.”

He drew over a bench and sat down beside Collin, still petting him.

Collin lowered his head as far as he could, eyes sliding shut.

He could stay here for hours, just enjoying this.

With the bars under his hip and chest, he could take some of the weight off his hands and knees.

It wasn’t totally relaxing, but it was pleasant.

That soft fuzzy feeling was back. If he could, he would nuzzle his sir right now.

Instead, he moaned softly and arched into Mr. Moreau’s hand. His sir had the best hands.

“Such a good pet,” Mr. Moreau whispered. He kissed Collin’s hip. His hands slid down over Collin’s ass and pulled his cheeks apart, spreading his hole, then releasing, and sliding down Collin’s legs all the way to his ankles.

He kissed Collin’s hip again, moving away toward one of the cabinets.

“Milking can be both an act of surrender but also a necessary practice when a male does not regularly practice orgasms. And you, mon petit chaton , have given up your rights to those. Which means that now and again you will be my milk boy.”

Collin still did not know what that meant, at least not exactly.

He tracked Mr. Moreau with his eyes. The bar gag silenced questions and forced patience.

It was almost nice not having the option of putting in the effort to prepare himself.

And besides, Mr. Moreau had already refused to explain what was going to happen.

“Last night, you may have noticed that I asked you if you would give me your cum, not just your orgasms. Many men do not know that one can have their cum taken without being forced to erupt.”

Mr. Moreau returned to the table with a tray.

Collin could only see what looked like an odd plate, a bottle of lube, and some small metal pieces.

There were more things, but he couldn’t identify them in the moment that they passed his range of vision.

He could only halfway turn his head to look behind him.

“Posture, Collin. I know Richard started teaching it.” He reached forward and tapped Collin under the nose.

Nope. He did not need the nose hooks! Collin brought his head up and stared straight ahead, arching his back and keeping his thighs spread.

Mr. Moreau stroked his hands down Collin’s throat, over his chest, belly, and down to his groin.

“Good boy. Hold that.”

Collin blinked and swallowed behind the gag. It was nice to have clear instructions. And to feel like he was doing something for his sir besides being spoiled.

Mr. Moreau reached under Collin and pinched one nipple, then the other.

Collin’s flinched.

“No, no, pet. Posture.” Mr. Moreau patted Collin on the rear. “You can take this. Show me how good you can be.”

Was he daring him? A challenge?

Collin collected himself, pulling his chin back into position and arching his back again. Air moving over his balls reminded him that his position put his tender bits on display. His hole fluttered.

Be good. Just be good for his sir. He could do this. He wanted to do this.

The door to the playroom opened. Mr. Reevesworth came around the end of the table dressed in loose pants and an open house-robe.

He had a tray of coffee and tea service in his hands, which he set on the side table on the wall parallel to Collin, ignoring him completely.

Then he sank down in the large padded chair right by the table in the corner to the right of Collin.

Damian followed him with a large serving tray full of breakfast finger foods. “Would you like coffee now, sir?” Damian asked, arranging the dishes and hot water and stowing the trays on a nearby shelf.

“In a moment. Sit here, Pup.” Mr. Reevesworth pointed to the floor in front of him.

Collin’s cheeks tingled as he blushed. He knew, he absolutely knew , what he looked like, and they were so obviously there to watch. Yes, he didn’t really know yet what was about to happen, but that was secondary to being on display.

Mr. Moreau came to Collin’s side, standing behind his head and reached under him, circling Collin’s nipple with his thumb.

“Keep posture, kitten.”

He pressed whatever was in his hand against Collin. There was a soft puff of air and then suction. Something, like a tight, silicone mouth pulled at Collin’s nipple and surrounding areola.

Collin sucked air into his mouth through the gag, his back tightening, fingers curling against the table. His heels arched. Barely, so barely, he kept his form.

“Good boy. Breathe, boy. Breathe. You’re behaving so well.” Mr. Moreau stroked Collin’s back.

Warm hands. Solid hands.

Collin’s chest rose and fell as he steadied his breathing. It wasn’t bad. It was just a lot. Whatever was on his chest now was light and small, but it was pulling at him, making his nipple pulse and tingle.

“One more, kitten.” Mr. Moreau’s hands slid under Collin again, gently pinching Collin’s other nipple. Then there was the press of that same kind of device against his areola again. Collin’s muscles tightened in place. He could do this. He would do this.

Mr. Moreau let go, and the device latched on, a fierce little mouth on Collin’s chest.

“He didn’t move,” Mr. Reevesworth observed.

“No, our kitten is very well behaved.”

“He really is.”

Collin had to blink hard. Thank goodness for the gag. It gave him something to bite down on.

Mr. Moreau went back to petting Collin’s flanks.

It helped a little. At least it gave him something to feel other than those two pulsing points on his chest. And praise—knowing that his doms thought he was doing well—was steadying.

Mr. Moreau wrapped his hand around Collin’s cock and stroked it once, then held it point down in his hand between Collin’s legs.

“Two things that I prize in my work, kitten, are symmetry and balance. I abhor disorder. I dislike mess.” Without letting go of Collin’s cock, he wiped Collin’s chin and the table again.

“What you have on your nipples are suckers. You have beautiful, fine nipples. Very fine. But too small for me to truly attach anything but clamps. In a few minutes, the suckers will swell your nubs to sufficient size for what I want to hang off them. Something small to match what I will use to keep your cock pointing appropriately down. Unlike a doe or cow, milk boys do not always have the ability to appropriately keep themselves pointed down and into thereceptacle. They must be assisted.”

He stroked Collin’s cock softly one more time. “Try to relax. To let down your milk, as they say, we must first be able to reach your gland, located inside your hole. While we wait for the suckers to do their work, it’s time to open you.”

Collin’s cheeks flamed. He was trembling finely, not just at Mr. Moreau’s words, but the way he could feel Mr. Reevesworth and Damian watching him.

Mr. Moreau trailed his hands down Collin’s body and pulled back the mounds of his glutes from his hole.

A now familiar syringe of lube slid inside his anus and deposited its content, making him slippery and wet.

Mr. Moreau pressed one finger against the tight ring.

The pad of his finger was larger than the syringe or the nozzle from the rinsing earlier.

“Good milk boys should cooperate with their milking,” Mr. Moreau said softly, rolling his fingers against Collin’s bud.

It sounded like he was meditating, almost in a trance, as if Collin were his mandala or drumbeat to follow.

His free hand idly stroked patterns on Collin’s calf.

“Press out against me, kitten. Take a breath, a deep one. Good. Now let it out and imagine your hole opening for me like a flower. Your whole body spreading open like the petals of a rose.”

His voice carried Collin. His eyes slid shut while he listened to the words as they went on, guiding him to breathe, in and out, deeply into his belly and then out, from his lungs, from his bones, from his very core.

If it hadn’t been for the chain, his head would have fallen forward.

Awareness of everything except his sir and his sir’s voice, his sir’s hands, and his own unfurling entrance slid away from him.