I’m safe.
Here. With him. I can be vulnerable, and he won’t hurt me or judge me.
I’m safe.
Because of that, I can let go..
I allow myself to enjoy this, to feel his hands digging into muscles I didn’t know were sore until he massages them. He moves down my legs, over my ass and thighs, to my calves. He massages the heels of my feet. Pinches my toes. Goes back upthe other side. Then he works on my arms. My hands. I’m half asleep. Maybe fully asleep, but conscious enough to know what’s going on because I don’t want to miss it. This feels too good. Not just his hands, but the safety. This euphoric state I’m in.
Then, out of nowhere, I’m hit with a wave of guilt. That I get to feel this and my sisters don’t. It’s unfair that they still have to suffer all the time while I’m hiding away here. But... it’s for the right things. I’m not doing this for me, that’s what I have to tell myself to make the guilt go away. This isn’t for me. It’s for us. It’s always been for us. They’ll have good things soon. I’ll spoil the hell out of them. Give them everything they could ever dream of.
“How are you feeling?”
I suck in a breath at his words waking me, his voice soft in my ear.
“So good,” I answer, my voice muffled by the cushion.
“Good. Because I’m starving. So, if you don’t mind, I’d like your cum now.”
My dick gets hard so fast—I hadn’t even realized that it wasn’t any longer.
“Yes, please,” I say.
“Don’t move,” he says firmly.
The blood starts to rush in my ears again as I strain to listen, trying to envision what he’s doing. I hear the swish of his pants as he walks, his soft footsteps on the floor. I feel the soft breezeof air as he moves beside me, and then I feel him there… near my waist—the heat of his body warming my bare skin.
“Your cock is so beautiful, Cassius,” he praises.
I’ve never had someone compliment that part of me before. I like it. No, I love it.
I hear the sound of him rubbing oil, or lube, into his palms, and then his warm hand is on my dick. I can’t help the groan that comes out of me, my dick throbbing in his hand. I am not going to last long, but thankfully, I don’t think he will care since he’s hungry.
His hand moves up and down me slowly, fingers dragging along the sides and over my balls. I can’t tell if he’s teasing me or enjoying me… maybe both. Either way, I’m close, and like the massage, I don’t want this to end.
“Fuck,” I hiss, as his grip tightens around me, tugging on my cock in a way that you would milk something. I never thought of touching myself this way, and it feels good in a way I hadn’t imagined it would. A few more tugs and I’m done for.
I try to stay still, but the pleasure is too much, and I can’t hold it in. I grasp onto the side of the bed as I get closer and closer. This tugging has to be some form of teasing or edging.
It’s not a constant stroking, but a pull, wait a second. Pull, wait a second. Only downward pulls in a tight squeeze.
It’s maddening and so good at the same time.
I’m breathing heavily, my body shaking.
“You can give it to me, slave. It’s what I want,” Harmonsays.
“Go… faster.”
“Oh no. Where’s the fun in that?” There’s a lilt of humor in his voice.
My frustration grows, as does my trembling. But he keeps going in the same motion, until I can’t take it anymore, and I explode.
He works me through my orgasm, squeezing out the cum from my cock into something that I felt brush against the head of my cock. A glass maybe. It was cold and hard.
“Take a moment to catch your breath, then come and kneel, so I can eat.”
I lay there, listening to his soft footsteps on the floor, trying to wake myself up more. The kitchen door squeaks. Squeaks again. Plates softly clattering. A bottle being opened. Silverware being placed down.