11. Cameron

Seven months?! What the hell? That was much too long to wait to find out who my mystery Daddy was. And what was with the arbitrary number? Seven? Not six or nine?

I sighed. I wanted to see how this would play out, so I supposed I could wait that long if that was what he needed.

I drew in a deep breath then tapped out my response. Okay, I will agree to seven months under duress. I sent a winking emoji so he'd know I was messing with him. Anything else, Daddy?

I wasn't surprised that he didn't answer right away. I started to strip down to grab a quick shower before I headed to my biweekly Daddy/boy club meeting. I was so ready to put the bullshit of everyday life aside and just be with my friends.

By the time I'd dried off and was running product through my hair, another message came in. Let's commit to one scene per week for now, and we can evaluate in three months. Sound good?

As long as I can get something personal out of you each week, too. You okay with that?

I can live with your conditions, boy. As long as you remember that Daddy makes the rules.

I shuddered as I stood in the bathroom naked, biting my lip as I thought about my response. Thank you, Daddy. And of course you make the rules. That's what I love so much about being a boy. I can turn my brain off and just be.

I drew in a breath before I hit send, then I walked my phone into the attached bedroom to get dressed.

I promise to always respect and earn the trust you've put in me.

His next text had my eyes widening. Okay, then first, we need some rules. The first one we talked about: You call me Daddy. Though if one of us has safeworded or we're simply discussing something and not playing, Stephen is just fine.

Of course, Daddy.

Second, we need to be honest with each other. I know that seems unfair since I'm not telling you everything about me, but I promise I won't lie to you. And I fully intend to tell you the truth later on; I'm just not ready right now. Honesty includes safewording the instant you need to as well, okay?

I nodded as I typed a quick response. Yes, Daddy. I will always be honest with you.

Good boy. Now, since we're going to be getting rather personal here, I want to know your preferred terms for your anatomy. I'd hate to cause any dysphoria.

My heart melted. Thank you, Daddy. I call my dick my t-dick or just my dick. My asshole is that or just my hole. I still have my front hole, too, but I prefer penetration in my ass—using my front hole is usually dysphoric.

Thank you for telling me, Cameron.

You're welcome, Stephen. Also, I've had top surgery, and I've finally regained sensitivity in my nipples. I sighed before adding, Hope that's not oversharing.

His response was swift. Never oversharing, boy. I'm your Daddy, remember? I need to know as much as I can so I can take care of you the best I'm able.

Thank you, Daddy. I added a winking emoji to lighten the mood. This was always an uncomfortable yet necessary conversation, and I'd never had it over text before. But Stephen made it feel easy.

You're welcome, sweet boy. Now, I want to start setting some ground rules for you to follow, but I'm not familiar with your routine yet. Could you tell me what your work hours are and how you spend your time?

I glanced at the clock. I had an hour and a half before my meeting anyway, so I settled in to chat. I work entirely from home and for myself, so my hours are flexible. Sometimes I'll go into a coffee shop during the day if I'm getting writing in, but other than that, I rarely have specific demands on my time. I can let you know if I ever do.

I bit my lip as I considered whether or not I wanted to return to that yoga class. If I did, maybe I'd see Sam again, though the thought thrilled and terrified me in equal measure. It might be a long shot since he wasn't a regular instructor or anything, but it would do me good to get out of the house, anyway.

Though I think I'll be attending a Tuesday afternoon yoga class, and every other Tuesday night at 8, like tonight, I meet up with a like-minded group of friends.

Like-minded as in other Daddies and boys?

Was I sensing some jealousy? Exactly that. Does that bother you, Daddy?

His response wasn't immediate, so I smiled to my empty bedroom because I was probably right. Though it made me think of another question to ask . . .

His text came through before I had the chance. It does a little, boy. I know it's not fair of me to demand you're exclusive with me, but I have to admit to feeling a little jealous that other Daddies get to spend time with you.

I was already nodding as I replied, thankful he'd brought up exclusivity so I didn't have to. I understand that, Daddy. My club isn't like that for me, though—they're all only friends. I've only ever been attracted to one Daddy there, but it didn't work out between us, and he doesn't come anymore. Because he was a raging transphobe and got booted out as soon as I told everyone the awful things he'd said to me when he found out I was AFAB.

Okay, boy. Until we move this offline—or both agree otherwise—I'd say this doesn't need to be exclusive. That wouldn't be fair.

My heart sank, but I supposed he was being reasonable. Not that I'd had any prospects in the past several months, anyway. Okay, Daddy. Whatever pleases you.

I'd chosen my words carefully, and I was rewarded when his next message came through. Damn, boy, you're going to kill me before we even get started.

I just sent a gif of a cartoon character batting their eyelashes.

Are you teasing Daddy? Because I may have to find a punishment for that.

My gut tightened, and I could feel his words in my dick. What kind of punishment, Daddy? Holy hell—am I asking to be punished? What the fuck is wrong with me?

Consider this your first lesson in listening to Daddy. How much time before you need to leave for your meetup?

I glanced at the clock on my phone. I have about an hour, Daddy.

Good. I want you to follow my instructions exactly, you hear, boy?

Anticipation coiled in my gut. Yes, Daddy.

Do you own a plug?

Holy shit. Um, yes?

Yes, what?

I exhaled in a rush. Yes, Daddy. I have a few plugs.

Excellent. For your first task, I want you to prep yourself and put a plug in. You're going to wear it to your meeting.

I gasped. I'd never worn a plug out of the house before—I'd barely used one longer than a few minutes. Daddy?

His response was swift. Is that a problem, boy? Because I was going to let you off with a light punishment this time, but I can always up the stakes.

My fingers flew over the screen. No, Daddy, I will wear your plug tonight.

Good boy.

I gasped as his words crashed over me like a wave, then my exhalation quickly turned into a moan. I palmed my dick through the boxer briefs I was wearing, willing my arousal to go away. Though my t-dick wasn't huge, it still grew hard and sensitive when I was turned on. And holy shit was I turned on. My new Daddy turned me on.

Okay, boy, now for the rest. You will wear your plug until you return home. Once you've been there for 1 hour, you will excuse yourself to the restroom, where you will fuck yourself with the plug 10 times. Forty-five minutes later, you will excuse yourself again and fuck yourself with the plug 15 times. Half an hour after that, you will fuck yourself 20 times. If you're gone longer than that, I want you in the restroom every half hour, fucking yourself with that plug 20 times each time. And each time, when you are finished, you are to text me to thank me. Then when you get back to your house, you will message me for further instructions.

Holy fucking shit. Was I really going to do this? Did he really expect me to? He would totally know if I didn't do it—he'd be expecting my texts. And I'd promised not to lie to him, anyway.

And hell. I really wanted to do this. I was already so fucking turned on I could barely see straight.

Then his next text came in. Oh, and, boy? You are not to come at all. I don't even want you touching yourself at all tonight except to prep for the plug. Understood?

I was gasping for breath. Yes, Daddy. I understand.

Good boy.

There it was again. If he kept that up, I would come just from his words alone, and I didn't want to mess up on our first adventure together. Thank you, Daddy.

Now tell me what you're feeling.

I paused for just a second, realizing I needed to get a move on if I was going to follow his instructions. So I hurriedly typed out my response. I'm so horny, Daddy. I want to come for you. I want to touch myself so badly, even though you said I couldn't. But I'm excited to do this for you.

I sent that text then thought of something else.

What if I need to apply more lube, Daddy? Can I take the plug out then?

I shuddered at his reply. You're such a good boy for asking. Only then may you take out the plug. But I want it back in that sexy hole not a second longer than needed, okay, sweet boy? I'm trusting you.

Thank you, Daddy. I hesitated before sending, then added, Which plug would you like me to use?

His answer was immediate. Are you comfortable sending pictures? Show them all to me, and I'll pick for you. And send me a picture of your toy drawer while you're at it, so I know what I have to work with in the future.

How could he know this was everything I'd been wanting from a Daddy? Give me just a second, Daddy.

I scrambled over to the top drawer of the nightstand on the far side of the bed. Seemed like the best use of the space so I could leave my nightstand drawer free for notebooks, flashlights, and yeah, the occasional vibrator.

When I yanked open the drawer, the toys all jostled. I could barely see the wood panel at the bottom. I dug through my stash, fully aware of the time ticking down. But I still had about forty minutes. Plenty of time to prep my hole and insert the plug. Whichever one that may be.

I instantly found my favorite plug, one made of red silicone. It flared once, not too much, was about three inches long, and its widest spot was thick enough that I would feel it but not enough that it would be really uncomfortable. I set it on the bed.

The next plug I came across was black and slightly ribbed. This one was shorter but thicker and had a removable vibrator. That one went on the bed, too.

I sucked in a breath when I found my last one. It was aspirational more than anything, and I flushed when I looked at it. It was a soft, translucent, clear silicone with rainbow confetti embedded beneath the surface and had three curved flares. The largest one was as thick as my largest dildo, and it was five or six inches long. I could do it, but I'd need some serious prep time. Time I wasn't sure I had tonight.

I considered leaving that one out of the running, but I'd promised not to lie to Daddy, so I arranged all three plugs on the bed, snapped a photo, and sent it to Stephen, S.M.C., my Daddy. I quickly sent the other requested photo as well.

My skin was nearly vibrating as I waited for his response. How often do you have something up your ass, boy?

I blushed though I knew he couldn't see me. Not every night, but most nights, Daddy. But not usually for very long, and they aren't very big.

Do you fuck yourself with a dildo?

I swallowed once. Yes, Daddy. Almost every time.

What do you like about having something up your ass?

My heart was racing as I typed. I love how full I get. I love how sexy it makes me feel. And I love . . . I took a breath and sent what I'd typed so far, wondering if I wanted to divulge this information to a relative stranger. I could barely admit it to myself.

Yes, boy?

I steeled myself with an anchoring breath. I love to imagine a thick cock inside me. I love to imagine someone fucking me. How I would stare into their eyes and they would stare into mine while we made love. Eh, I guess that makes me a romantic.

Well, you *do* write romance novels.

I snorted. True. So which one should I use tonight, Daddy?

I held my breath while I stared at the three dots dancing across the screen. Let's go with the red one for now. Since you're new to this. But you'd better believe we're working up to that rainbow one. We can have so much fun with that.

I smiled, then another text came in.

Okay, you all set, boy? Color?

Green, Daddy. I want to do this for you. I'm excited. What a fucking understatement. My stomach was swirling in anticipation. I doubted I'd be able to eat anything tonight.

I could almost feel his smirk through the phone. Good boy. You're so good for me, and I'm so proud of you. Now get going—I wouldn't want you to be late for our fun night. He capped it off with a smirking emoji, and I had to force myself off the bed. I just wanted to rub my dick until I exploded. But Daddy'd said no coming tonight.

Dammit.

***

After I'd cleaned myself out, washed up again in the shower, and prepped my hole with three fingers and a ton of lube, I stood in front of my bathroom mirror and just stared at myself for a moment before I went back to my bed to insert the plug I was required to wear tonight. I had a Daddy, and I was doing something to please him. I could not believe my luck. First seeing Sam again, and now this. This was definitely my lucky day.

I picked up the plug gingerly, coating it generously with lube before taking it to the bed and getting on all fours to ease it in. I had practice inserting my small dildo—nothing more than an inch in diameter—with regularity, but I'd prepped long enough to know I could get this one in without hurting myself.

I bore down as I pressed it against my hole until it breached the surface. Then I froze as I breathed out, letting my body adjust. After a second, I started pressing again, slowly, until it was fully seated inside me.

After a few calming breaths, I stood and went over to my closet to check out how I looked in my full-length mirror. From the front, of course, I looked no different. But I felt like a completely new man.

I turned my back to the mirror, twisting to look over my shoulder, to see if I could spy the base of the plug. And sure enough, that strip of red silicone was nestling snuggly between my cheeks. Holy fucking hell. That was hotter than I'd imagined it would be.

My hand started to drift between my legs, but then I remembered Daddy'd said no touching, so I clenched both hands into fists at my sides. I was going to obey Daddy tonight, follow all his rules.

If I followed the rules, maybe, at the end of all this, he'd want to keep me.

I blinked at the thought, my eyes wide. Shit, that was what I really wanted, wasn't it?

***

"So how was yoga?"

Tristan's arm slid around my shoulders in the large booth of Mix It Up. Attending our club's biweekly meetups and the occasional Kink Night this bar hosted every other week was as far as I'd delved into the kink scene. Well, except for my current internet affair with S.M.C.

I adjusted in my seat to get more comfortable, but then the plug jostled itself inside me. I sucked in a breath I hoped Tristan couldn't hear. "It was great. You actually wouldn't believe who was there." I wiggled my eyebrows at him.

His eyes shot wide. "Sam?"

Now my eyes mirrored his. "What—how did you guess that?"

He squeezed me into his side in a half-hug. "First, your entire face lit up. Second, he's the only guy I've ever seen you this gone for, and you've barely even had a conversation. And third . . . well, that's enough." He grinned. "So how was it?"

"Well . . ." I averted my gaze, swirling the cocktail straws in my rum and coke.

"Camothy."

"Okay, so I kinda . . . yelled at him." I scrunched down in my seat, bracing for his reaction.

Tris smacked my arm, as I knew he would. "Cameron! What the hell?"

"I know! I know, okay? He was just there looking all hot and perfect and delicious—"

"So you yelled at him like you were on the middle school playground?"

"When you put it that way . . ." I mumbled, still chasing the ice around my glass with my straw.

"What the hell other way am I supposed to put it? Cameron, I told you to put yourself out there, and I'm proud of you for doing so and going to that class, but the universe gifted you a second chance by seeing Sam again, and you take his head off? What. The. Hell?" He punctuated his last words with more smacks to my arm, which was starting to get sore.

I yanked my arm back as he was still swinging at it. "I was nicer after that, and I gave him my number, so chill!"

He abruptly froze. "You . . . you what?! You gave him your number? Really?"

Grinning, I nodded, knowing what was coming next.

He started bouncing up and down in his seat. "Aw, Cammy, that's amazing! It was my advice, wasn't it? I knew it! How did that happen? Tell me everything."

I leaned in, prepared to spill the tea, but as I did, I glanced at my phone. Had it been a half hour already? "Hold that thought—I need to go to the restroom."

I shoved at Tris, who had me blocked in, but he wouldn't move. "Just when it was getting good!"

Pressing on his chest, I promised, "I'll finish when I get back, but I've got to go right now."

Tristan finally stood but grabbed my hand before I could make my exit, his face suddenly serious. "You okay, Cameron? You're going to the bathroom a lot. Are you getting sick?" His hand flew to my forehead.

Fighting the urge to blush, I waved his hand away. "I'm fine," I mumbled. "I just need to go."

He eyed me, nodding warily. "Okay, whatever you say, man." Thankfully, he turned to chat with Nate and Anson across the table, two guys who had been best friends since they'd met as teenagers. Everyone in our group knew they would one day get together, but so far, they seemed to be the only ones who hadn't sensed the chemistry between them.

Ethan, our group's fearless leader, stopped me before I could get any farther with a gentle hand to my arm. "Cameron, are you okay?"

I nodded enthusiastically. "I'm okay, Ethan, thanks. I appreciate you checking in."

"Having fun tonight?"

I stifled a groan, knowing he was just being kind. How could I wrap this up quickly? "I am. You know I always love hanging out with you guys. I just kinda need to . . ." I let my voice trail off as I nodded meaningfully toward the bathroom hallway.

"Ah." He took a deliberate step out of my way, lowering his hand. "Please, don't let me keep you."

With a single nod and a quiet "thanks," I ducked around him, hurrying now. I didn't want to be late. I couldn't be late. Not for Daddy.

My feet carried me to the bathroom quickly, the base rubbing between my cheeks, reminding me it was still there.

As if I could forget.

Every movement, every shift in my stance, in my seat, brought the plug's presence front and center in my mind. And because Daddy had ordered it, he was always on my mind, too.

I thought that was probably the point.

Stepping into the only available stall, I quickly unfastened my pants and pulled them down to my thighs. Ignoring my persistent hard-on, I leaned over slightly and reached behind me. I was doing this again, and I was going to make my Daddy proud.

I counted each stroke in my head as I slid the plug in and out of my hole, never letting it slide all the way out. I'd already coated it in more lube half an hour ago, so I was all good to go. I was going to be so good for Daddy.

By the fifteenth slide, I was getting so worked up I was afraid I'd come if I kept it up. I paused for a second—Daddy hadn't said I couldn't—then pulled it back and slid it all the way forward for number sixteen. I felt as though Daddy himself was fucking me, commanding my every movement, and my orgasm was building. I clenched my teeth to fight it off.

Seventeen, and I fisted my free hand where I was holding it against my thigh to keep my balance. I couldn't come. Not now.

I took a deep breath, thought of Brussels sprouts, then quickly slid the plug in and out three more times.

I exhaled loudly, and I couldn't hold back the quiet moan that fell from my lips. Daddy was trying to kill me. Either that, or he was trying to humiliate me by making me hide in a bathroom stall, where anyone could overhear, and fuck my hole raw. The last one seemed more likely, and as much as I hated to admit it, this whole scenario—humiliation included—was getting me so amped up I was going to explode any minute.

Time to call it a night; Tristan could get my story later.

I washed my hands, sent my Daddy a quick text, then headed back out to say goodbye to my friends.