Page 16 of Collin, Episodes 10-12 (The Residency Boys #4)

His sir looked up at Collin. With Mr. Moreau seated, Collin’s eyes were a couple of inches higher, but that only made him feel even more like prey.

His proper, genteel sir was grinning like a wolf, eyes bright and fierce, as if he were drugged.

Eyes on Collin, he said, “Richard, the syrup, too, please.”

He looked away only to drizzle syrup across the pancakes and into the cum. Then he opened his napkin, picked up his knife and fork, and cut into his breakfast, making the center pancake into four smaller pieces. He speared two of them on his fork and rolled them in syrup and Collin’s cum.

As he lifted the morsel to his mouth, he looked up, locking eyes with Collin again.

Collin couldn’t breathe. All he could do was stare at his sir.

Mr. Moreau smirked. “Thank you for the cream, kitten.” He wrapped his lips around the fork.

And chewed.

His eyes slid closed, a man savoring his meal, rolling it slowly around in his mouth and groaning just a little as he swallowed. He opened his eyes and smiled at Collin.

“Excellent taste, milk boy. I think I will have to take my breakfast like this more often.”

Collin’s cheeks burned. He dropped his gaze, but that meant he was staring at his own cum serving as butter on his sir’s breakfast.

Mr. Moreau went back for more. Collin could not look away.

He watched as his sir ate every last crumb, dragging around the final square of pancake on the silver platter to soak up every trace of syrup and cream.

Finished, Mr. Moreau set down his fork and knife and patted his belly, saying something in French. Mr. Reevesworth laughed.

Collin hung his head, cheeks tingling. He’d been milked for breakfast .

“Pet,” Mr. Moreau murmured.

Collin looked up. He felt small and humble, and his insides were twisting around. He could barely bring himself to meet his sir’s eyes, let alone anyone else’s.

He shivered and dropped his gaze. After all that and he still, desperately, wanted to be fucked.

He was an aching hole that needed to be filled.

For goodness sakes, he was stretched, lubed, and bent over.

Even though his cock was soft and he was empty, he craved penetration and sex in a way he’d never wanted it before.

What had his sir done to him? How was this even possible?

Mr. Moreau unbuckled the gag from behind Collin’s head and eased it out as carefully as he had done all the other times.

He held out his hand, and Mr. Reevesworth handed him an open tin of balm.

With one finger, Mr. Moreau dabbed the balm on Collin’s lips, paying special attention to the edges.

Then he handed the tin back to his husband and accepted a cup from Damian.

It was more ginger tea with honey, warm but not hot. Collin barely stopped himself from gulping it down. When the tea was gone, Mr. Moreau started unhooking Collin’s ankle and wrist cuffs.

“Back up, kitten. There you go. There’s a soft mat there, feel it? Good. We’re going to lay you down on your side, facing me.”

Collin backed up until he felt the soft pad. The weights on his nipples and cock swayed and tugged on him as he moved. He turned a one-eighty at the edge of the padding and slowly curled up on his side, facing Mr. Moreau.

His sir smiled at him and pulled up the bench again, sitting down and leaning forward with his elbows on the table. He unfolded a blanket and shook it out over Collin, draping it over his back, but not covering his front.

“How do you feel, kitten?”

Collin blinked slowly. He glanced toward the corner.

Mr. Reevesworth was leaning with one hip against the side table where the remains of breakfast were laid out.

Damian stood next to him, holding a cup of coffee.

His knees ached, and so did his wrists. His hole felt so empty.

He reached out one hand and tangled his fingers with Mr. Moreau’s.

Words came slowly. “Submissive, sir. Like I want to roll on the floor and beg you to step on me.”

Mr. Moreau nodded, eyes soft and unsurprised. That was reassuring. If his sir expected this, then it was okay even if he felt like he might be spinning off into pieces in space.

He gripped his sir’s hand more tightly. “You…you ate me, I mean, my cum, sir.”

Mr. Moreau smirked again, that almost evil glint returning. He lifted Collin’s hand to his lips and kissed the back of Collin’s fingers. “You are delicious, pet. Did you enjoy feeding me?”

Collin’s head spun. He squeezed his sir’s hand, trying to stay anchored. Over and around the emptiness, a new feeling flashed through him. In his mind, he watched Mr. Moreau drag his pancakes through the syrup and cum again and felt satisfaction, accomplishment.

“Yes, sir.” He pressed Mr. Moreau’s hand to his cheek and gripped it with both hands. “You…you just took it, like you said you would.”

Mr. Moreau smiled and stroked Collin’s hair back from his eyes. “You gave it to me, pet.”

“I wasn’t even hard, sir.” Somehow, that seemed very important.

Mr. Moreau chuckled. “I didn’t want you hard. And you are an exceptionally suited boy for milking. Not all males can be milked successfully the first time.”

“Why am I so desperate, then, sir?”

“Are you desperate, boy? What are you desperate for?”

“Touch. Being fucked, sir.”

Mr. Moreau smiled, that soft, pleased look all over his face.

“Milking is one way a dominant can train a submissive to be pliant and needy. If I put a vibrator in you now, you could get hard, but you would not be able to orgasm. At most, you might dry orgasm. But you would still want sexual contact. Unlike many men after sex, you’re not sleepy or uninterested.

And you’ll likely remain this way for hours, even days. ”

Days? Collin whimpered and scooted closer to his sir.

Mr. Moreau laughed and snuggled him closer. “You’re not encouraging me to not to make this a regular occurrence, boy. What if I decide to never let you orgasm again?”

Never? Collin’s eyes widened, and he stared up at his sir with his mouth partway open. “Sir?”

“This is one of the things I wanted you to know about me, Collin.” Mr. Moreau wrapped an arm around Collin’s rear, pressing him close against his chest, even though Collin was still lying on the table.

“I live for making my subs weak and needy and desperate, turning them into willing clay, for decorating them, and displaying them, and testing their physical limits, for suspending them in subspace so deep they forget their own names. Many people mistake me for the softer, easier dom between Richard and I, but they forget that I am the only one of the two of us who ever took on a slave.”

Collin shivered inside his sir’s arms. “Are you trying to scare me, sir?”

“Perhaps.”

Collin bit the closest piece of his sir that he could, the man’s biceps. Not a light nip, no. A hard, full-jaw clamp.

Mr. Moreau bellowed, half rising off the bench. His hands tightened where he held Collin. Their eyes met. Mr. Moreau stilled. Collin grinned around his mouthful. Gah, he was going crazy. Inch by inch, Mr. Moreau sat down. Only when he was fully seated did Collin release his teeth.

He smirked. He was still shaky. He was still empty and half in free fall, but something wild and insane was ruling him.

“Don’t underestimate me, sir. Don’t think you’re too much for me.

” He half rose on one elbow so he could be eye to eye with his sir.

“I’ve told you what I need. I need to be needed.

I need to be wanted. But you are not too fucking much for me, sir. ”

“Is that so, Collin?” Mr. Moreau’s eyes darkened and narrowed.

“Yes, sir.” Collin met his stare with one of his own.

Mr. Moreau’s left arm was wrapped around Collin’s shoulder.

He stood, spilling Collin onto his back, forcing Collin’s leg up between them and holding it in place so that Collin was folded in half and crushed against Mr. Moreau’s chest and the table.

He stabbed three stiff fingers into Collin’s hole and shoved them up inside of Collin’s guts until they were entirely buried, his knuckles pressed against Collin’s ass.

Shock rolled through Collin’s spine. His hole spasmed and burned.

“Still not too much for you, boy?”

Collin jerked and shuddered. Blinking back water, he glared at Mr. Moreau. “No, sir!”

A smile, feral and pleased, broke out across Mr. Moreau’s face.

He pressed Collin down on the table, pinning him with what felt like his entire body, including his mouth.

His lips sealed against him, feasted on him, sucked the water out of him, and then gave it back as his tongue mapped every part of Collin’s mouth.

Only long after they were both gasping for air did he draw back, and even then, his fingers stayed buried in Collin’s ass. “I am never, ever, letting you go, boy.”

He blinked up at his sir, trying to smile through the bruises on his lips. “Who said I’d let you go, sir?”

Mr. Moreau laughed, and then he was crying.

He pulled his fingers out of Collin’s hole and wrapped himself around him, dragging the blanket over Collin’s back as he lifted him from the table as if he couldn’t get close enough to his skin.

They were moving, and all he could do was hang on with both arms around his sir’s neck, and then they were in one of the large chairs, and Mr. Reevesworth was there, and Mr. Moreau was pulling off his shirt and tossing it away.

“émeric, let me help.”

“Need, Richard. I need.” There were so many tears on his sir’s face.

Collin touched them, leaned forward, and tried to wipe them away.

Arms were lifting him, and he couldn’t stay still long enough to wipe those tears away, and he wanted to; he wanted to so bad.

Something was breaking inside his sir, and he needed to make it better.