Page 14 of Collin, Episodes 10-12 (The Residency Boys #4)

He was floating. Willing. Suspended. Unaware of time.

Each sensation was just a layer of his experience, something he could watch and turn over and observe without reaction.

His sir’s finger was inside him now, making small circles.

It was a soft, gentle, intimate exchange; as he gave, his sir accepted.

And as his sir pressed, making requests, he gave.

He wasn’t being opened; he was partnering in preparing a gift.

Partners . A bonded pair. The sensation of being larger than his own skin suffused him, as if his own internal essence, his Collin-ness, was rising up out of him and easing into his sir, even as the essence of his sir flowed toward and around him, then sank literally into him.

“Beautiful, Collin. Stay like this, just like this. I have you. Gentle, gentle. We’re going to water you now.

” His sir’s hands petted him from the inside and out, moving slowly away from the bud of his entrance and up his sides.

They petted his neck, undoing the buckle on the gag.

His sir slid a hand under Collin’s chin, and Collin leaned into it, giving his sir the weight of his jaw, his head.

They were dancing, moving together, matching pulses.

Collin raised his eyes, only half open. His sir was in front of him now. They were breath for breath.

His sir’s fingers danced along the edge of the bit. The leather was loose. He eased it from Collin’s teeth, the thumb and fingers of his hand holding Collin’s head holding Collin’s jaw apart. Slowly, their gaze tied together, he eased Collin’s jaw closed, massaging the muscles of Collin’s face.

As his mouth relaxed, Collin swallowed. His gaze was still tied with his sir’s. They were staring into each other’s eyes. It wasn’t that he couldn’t look away; it was that he was unwilling.

His sir held out his hand. Someone handed him something Collin couldn’t see. He drew it in closer and pressed the rim of a warm shallow cup against Collin’s lips.

“Drink, kitten.” He lifted the bottom of the cup so that the liquid seeped into Collin’s mouth.

It was tea with notes of ginger, cardamon, and oranges.

It wet Collin’s tongue, seeped into the tissue of his cheeks and softened his throat.

Ambrosia. He could tell each flavor apart, feel each place the warmth and hydration touched and nourished him.

His sir drew back the cup and lifted it to his own lips, drinking it down. Then he held it out. It was refilled and given back. He tested it, judging the temperature, and offered Collin the rim to drink again.

For long moments, they were locked together like that, the ritual of drinking and gazing consuming them. Then his sir handed off the cup, and it didn’t come back. Still cradling Collin’s chin, his sir placed the bar gag against Collin’s lips.

He didn’t have to speak. Collin tilted his head back and opened his mouth.

“Good boy. My beautiful boy.” His sir buckled the gag back in place, his fingers checking the chain, then coming back and stroking Collin’s cheek. “Breathe with me, beautiful boy. Just like that.”

His hand continued to cradle Collin’s face, but his other ghosted down over Collin’s throat, over his collarbone, and under him to his chest.

He was swimming in the awareness of his sir, in every contraction and flicker of his sir’s eyes, every flow and stutter of his sir’s breath.

His sir’s fingers circled the sucker on his nipple.

Horripilation broke out over his back and down his arms. Some part of Collin, not a physical part of him, but his will, his self, reached for his sir as if it would protect him.

His sir squeezed the sucker, releasing it.

The release was more intense than the application, a burn and a flash of prickling tingles.

Collin’s breath faltered for a heartbeat.

His sir held his gaze, waiting, as if time had no meaning.

The fingers of the hand holding Collin’s face stroked him gently along the jaw.

Collin’s back spasmed. It wasn’t a controllable reaction.

They rode it out together, the energy of Collin’s nerves rolling up his spine, into his sir’s hand, and up his arm into his sir’s own body.

And then they were falling into inertia again, settling together.

Collin’s nipple pulsed in time with his heartbeat. It felt large, full, and tender.

His sir’s eyes asked a question. His hand traveled to the second sucker. Infinitesimally, Collin leaned into the hand, offering himself.

It was just as intense, perhaps more, but this time, he barely flinched. He was floating above sensations even as they rolled through him.

“There you are, my pet.” Mr. Moreau’s fingers danced over Collin’s face. He leaned down, pressing his lips to Collin’s eyes, closing them with gentle oscillations. “I’m going to adorn you, now. Stay like this, just like this. Listen to my voice.”

He moved around to Collin’s side, his hand never leaving Collin’s chest. His fingers gently circled Collin’s throbbing nub, testing its weight and resistance, rolling it carefully against the pad of his thumb.

His other hand came back. He slid a loop of something soft like leather around Collin’s aching nub and tightened it down by sliding something up the length of the loop.

Then carefully, by degrees, one hand resting against Collin’s back to steady him, he released the loop.

A weight pulled at Collin’s nipple, dragging it down. Collin’s head fell back, then bent forward as the weight rocked like a pendulum, drawing out the ache and throb in his flesh. He whimpered through the gag.

“So pretty,” his sir murmured.

He fingered Collin’s other nipple, and Collin stilled, his body coming back into posture. Only when Collin was completely at rest once again did his sir draw the second loop around Collin’s other nipple and tighten it into place.

Then he ran his fingers over both trapped nubs. The loops forced Collin’s nipples into peaks and kept them there. The weight of whatever was hanging from the loops pulled them down.

“Perfect.”

He was going to be sore and swollen for days

His sir pressed a kiss to Collin’s shoulder.

“Only one more step until we milk you, precious pet.” His palm glided down the flat expanse of Collin’s belly and wrapped around Collin’s cock.

He drew his hand toward the table, guiding Collin’s cock to extend down.

With his eyes closed and his breathing slow, Collin felt every touch and movement.

His sir circled his glans with his fingertips.

“So soft and obedient, pet.” He wrapped a slender chain just behind the head of Collin’s cock and latched it closed.

There was weight on the chain. Slowly, his sir let Collin’s cock take the weight until it was pulling his cock down between his legs, his slit pointed at the table.

“Symmetry.” Mr. Moreau brushed his fingers against the weights hanging from Collin’s nipples and then his cock, setting them all to swaying. “Feel it, mon petit chaton .”

How could he not? Each breath, every infinitesimal movement, transferred into greater motion at the end of the pendulums affixed to him.

His sir stroked his back slowly, his hand coming down in time and stilling the weights. He smoothed his hand over Collin’s stomach again, rubbing gently until Collin was loose, head so low that only the bit in his mouth was keeping him upright.

He kissed the base of Collin’s spine. “I’m going to take your cum now, pet. Stay with me like this. Just breathe, in and out. I’m going to milk you now. Such a good little milk boy for your sir.”

From far away, he heard Damian whisper, “He looks blissed out, sir, like he’s not even here.”

“Because he’s not,” Mr. Reevesworth answered.

His sir settled his right hand on Collin’s thigh. Two fingers of his left hand settled against Collin’s soft entrance. “Open your flower for me, kitten.”

Collin arched his back, pressing back against his sir’s fingers, taking them into his body. They sank into him like they belonged inside. A sense of accomplishment settled inside him. He pressed a little more. His sir’s hand on his thigh tightened.

“Good pet. No, that’s enough. My precious pet. Settle now. The rest is mine. All you have to do is give it up. Still, still. Just like that. Good boy.”

He rolled his fingers against the gland inside Collin, the one that made the world white and fuzzy when he was being fucked by his master. But this wasn’t fucking. This was something else entirely.

“Posture. There you are. Pretty pet. I love you like this. Your chest looks so pink and tender. Such a soft, well-behaved cock you have. Settle. Just drift, pet. Listen to my voice. Nothing but my voice, kitten.”

As his sir spoke softly, his words taking on a gentle cadence, his fingers continued pressing against the gland inside Collin’s hole.

Collin drifted. Neither awake nor asleep.

His breath passed in and out of him, deep and slow.

His sir’s fingers moved in his channel so easily he wondered why his sir did not merely press his entire hand inside and stroke him.

Pressure built slowly. Should he be concerned?

And then the thought was gone, wiped away by his sir’s hand petting him, moving over his ribs, rubbing circles under his belly.

In the distance, someone drank coffee and there was the smell of French toast. Through half-lidded eyes, he observed Damian sitting on the ground between Mr. Reevesworth’s knees.

None of it held him. It was all the same as water flowing past. The only anchored point was his sir, and the only sensation that held him was his sir’s touch.