13. Keaton

"Use you? What—"

"I want you to fuck me like I'm your little slut, and I need punishment. I want you so deep inside me I can feel the ache of your missing cock for days after." It all comes out of me before I can stop, and I forget how to breathe again.

He's not going to go for it. It's too weird. He's probably creeped out by my request. I can't say I would blame him if he were. So many of my exes were too.

"You know what. Just forget it?—"

"Do you mean it?" he asks.

I shake my head.

"Forget I said anything."

Milo raises an eyebrow and grabs me by the hips.

"I am not. Is that what you want? You want me to dominate you?"

I stare at him but don't say anything.

"Well?" he asks.

"It's just a weird kink. Don't mind me."

"Weird? God, whoever told you that?"

"People."

"Well, those people are idiots. I'd love to dominate you."

Did he just say…did I hear him right?

"You-you would?"

"It's my job, isn't it? And beyond that, I love being a Dom. Do you just like being a sub?"

It's so strange to talk to a stranger about it, and even stranger is the big smile on his face, as if the stuff I like is nothing out of the ordinary.

"Yes. I mean, I'm vers, but I love being submissive either way."

Milo frees my hips and fists my shirt as he gets back to his feet, a teasing smile and fire in his eyes.

"Well, good because I want that dick inside me too. But first…" He steps back and points to the floor. "Let's get you taken care of. On your knees, slut!"

I could have come right there and then, from hearing the words come out of his mouth, from knowing how easily he'd slipped into his Dom role. But I don't. I do what my master wants me to. I get on my knees.

He stands in front of me and watches me as his shoulders arch back, his smile hardens, and his eyes narrow.

He lifts a hand and grabs a fist of hair, pushing me into his crotch, where the outline of his hardness calls out to me.

"What are you waiting for, slut? Suck your master."

I make an attempt, but he yanks my hair back.

"No hands. Only teeth."

"Yes, Master," I tell him and put my hands behind my back.

I go back to my task, trying to find the zipper and use my teeth to slide it down. That was the easy part. Now for the button.

"Is this okay? Am I too rough?" he asks, dropping his Dom persona for a moment, and I look up at him.

"No. You're…you're great."

"Good." He strokes my head. "What else can I call you?"

I bite my lip and try not to think how hard my cock is pulsing. No one's ever asked me that.

"Slut is good. Whore too. I know it's weird, but I like fag too. Boy. Kitten. Kitty. Darling. Really, there's nothing you can call me I wouldn't like." When I'm in the zone, any pet name, even those I wouldn't put up with in real life, is sexy. They make me feel like a toy. Like I'm being used. Like I'm not this guy who lives and breathes business every day. Like I can just let go and not think. Like I'm just an object for my master's pleasure.

"Nice. Any triggers? Pain okay?"

"If it's light enough."

"And your safe words? Do you want to use the traffic light system? Green is good, yellow is slow down, red is stop?"

"Sounds good to me."

"Good. Good." He tilts my chin and thumbs my cheek. I shudder, getting lost in his beautiful hazel eyes that look at me as if he owns me. "So what are you waiting for, kitten? Suck my dick."

"Yes, Master," I answer him, but before I can act on it, he checks with me.

"Color?"

"Green. So much fucking green."

"Good. Now get on with it, whore. I ain't got all day."

"Yes, Master."

I bite down on his jeans, tasting the copper of his button, and pull. His cock, still trapped under all that denim, throbs against my chin, and my mouth waters at how close it is and how much I want to taste it.

Milo huffs.

"You're a useless little slut, aren't you?" He pushes me off him and undoes his button before dropping his pants and underwear to the floor, revealing the gorgeous meat I've only seen in pictures.

"Yes, Master. I'm useless. You're going to have to punish me." I can barely keep my words clear with how much I'm salivating. It's so close I can almost feel it filling my mouth.

"You talk too much, slut. Less talking, more sucking." He grabs me by the back of my head and slams me into his dick, and I almost become a wet hot mess on his floor.

I take him in and groan. It's so good. I can feel his hot stare on me. I can feel the pressure of his fingers on my head. I can feel the veins pumping blood under my teeth. I don't know what our purpose in life really is, but I know I was made for moments like this. There's no purer bliss than having a cock in your mouth by consensual force, and no one can change my mind.

"Well, don't just stand there. Do something, fag. Or do I need to teach you how to suck cock too?"

His booming voice gets me moving, and I all but worship his length, familiarizing myself with his size, shape, and taste. Getting him close to the edge and leaking like there's no tomorrow. Getting him all lubed up and ready to enter me when and how he sees fit.

"Mmm, good kitten. Keep going. You're—agh—good at this. Have you sucked a lot of cocks? Huh? Are you a dirty little slut?"

I hum and look up. Milo chokes and throws his head back, letting out a moan.

"Oh my…do that again, kitten. Hum. And suck."

If I didn't have a mouthful of cock I'd grin, but since I do, I hum and watch Milo unravel from my blowjob skills.

It does something to me, knowing I'm causing that. That I can make him weak in the knees. That I make him want to scream. That I can bring him to absolution just like that.

I could do this forever and not get bored, but Milo stops me and pulls out of my mouth.

"Let's not spoil all the fun, kitten. Now take off my shirt."

I get up and pull his shirt free before I do the same with my already torn shirt. We're both standing in the middle of the living room butt-naked, our cocks crossing like in a swordfight.

"Where do you want me to fuck you, slut? Bed, couch, floor, or kitchen island?"

Milo takes a fistful of my hair again and pulls with enough force to get a hiss out of me.

"Green?" he asks.

"Green," I reassure him and take in the apartment for the first time.

I've been so drunk with desire that I couldn't see farther than the man whose cock I adore.

It's a cozy, warm apartment with exposed brick walls and industrial arch windows I imagine let all the morning light through. The hardwood floors are softened by fluffy rugs in all the main areas. The living room consists of a red sectional against the wall, a light-colored oak coffee table, and a small stand opposite where the TV sits. The kitchen is tucked in the top corner beside a window with red-and-white cabinets, while the aforementioned kitchen island sits in the middle with a white marble top.

There are also clothing racks in all corners of the apartment full of outfits and accessories. There are books in fancy black carts while the walls have a huge selection of artistic framed photographs.

I don't know what I imagined when I pictured Milo's house, but this is definitely not it. I'm very pleasantly surprised.

"What will it be, kitten?"

He runs a finger over my face before pinching my bottom lip, and I turn my attention back to him.

"Couch," I reply, and he gives me his hand.

He leads me to the couch and lays me down before he puts a hand under the coffee table and slides a drawer out. A drawer fully stocked with condoms, lube, dildos, and other sex toys.

"Are you always this well prepared, Master?"

"Only when I know I've got company," he says, grabbing a condom and the bottle of lube and sitting on the couch by my feet. "Now spread your legs, whore. Let me see what I'm working with."

I do as asked, and he wastes no time before testing my tightness with slick fingers.

"Mmm, kitten. You're so tight. Are you sure you're not a virgin?"

"No, Master. I'm your dirty little slut. And I need your cock inside me. Break me. Tear me apart. Make me yours."

Milo pushes two fingers all the way in and scissors them inside me, taking my breath away.

"You don't tell me what to do, kitten. I tell you," he whispers as he climbs over me and hovers over my face. "Got it?"

I try to swallow, but my throat is so dry it does nothing.

"Ye-yes, Master."

He grins at my response and squeezes my lips with his free hand. My whole body is electrified under his rule, and I know if I touch myself, I won't even last a stroke. And that's what makes this so intoxicating. The fact I'm under his command, whether I like it or not.

He slips his tongue in my mouth and returns to his job of finger-fucking me. Two fingers turn to three, three turn four, and with each addition, I melt a little more into the couch.

"Ready?" he asks, the condom wrapper between his teeth, which he pulls open when I nod in approval.

He slips it on in one smooth motion and presses his hands against the backs of my knees. I lift my ass to allow him easier access. His crown breeches me, and I just about lose it.

"Yellow," I say, not because he's reaching my limit but because it takes everything I have to hold back the load threatening to shoot out of me.

I stop breathing for the few seconds it takes me to adjust to the feel of him inside me and look at him.

I run a hand over his soft and perfectly traceable chest all the way down until I end up where his throbbing cock connects with my asshole, and a moan escapes my weak lips.

"All good?" he asks.

"Uh-huh." It's very sweet of him to check. My partners in the past took the Dom thing to mean I wanted to be fucked rough and hard no matter what, instead of building up to it. That already sets him apart from any partner I've had before.

Partner.

He's not a partner. He's literally a paid escort. That's not the same thing as a romantic partner.

Agh. What's wrong with me?

"Are you sure?" he checks again, and I nod.

Screw it. Paid or not, he's willingly doing this. And I'd be a fool to turn him down now.

"So…green?"

I take a deep breath, recenter, finding my submissive side again, and smile.

"Green," I confirm, and he pushes farther inside me.

He slides in and out, slow at first, but the more he looks at me, the more he picks up the pace. His cockhead juts against my prostate every time he slams into me, and I hold on to him to stop myself from touching my own throbbing dick.

"You like that, kitten?"

"Mm-hmm" is all that manages to come out of me.

"You do huh? What do you like, kitten?"

"This!"

"This, what? What do you like, slut?"

"Master fucking my tight little hole."

Milo groans.

"That's right. I'll fuck that tight little hole. Stretch that boy pussy real good. Is that what you want? Is that what you want, fag?"

"Yes," I cry.

"Yes, what?"

"Y-yes, Master."

He slams into me, and my whole body shudders. He fits inside me so well that you'd think I hadn't stopped having sex when the truth is it's been well over a year since my last sexual encounter, and even then, I hadn't bottomed.

"Again!" he commands, and I refocus on the here and now.

"Yes, Master. Stretch my boy pussy with your big fat cock. Take me, rip me apart. Use me like you use your Fleshlight."

"My Fleshlight, huh? I fuck my Fleshlight pretty hard. Are you sure that's what you want?"

"Yes. Yes, Master."

"Of course you do. Because you're a dirty little fag, aren't you. You want me to come inside you, huh? You want me to breed your dirty pussy like the whore you are?"

"Yes, Master. Breed me. Fuck me. Do it. Please."

I'm so close that I don't even know if I can hold back anymore, but I know I'll regret it if I don't tell him what I want him to do to me now.

Milo readjusts on the sofa with one leg reaching the floor, the other kneeling on the couch, and I wrap my legs around his waist.

"Take it. Take it, little bitch," he says and rams into me with a growl and a look of sheer determination on his face that would send any man over the edge. "Take my cock. You like that? Huh? You like that? You like my cock, faggot? You like how hot it feels between your legs? You want more? Of course you do, slut. That's what all sluts want. That's what you are, isn't it? Just another dirty, cock-hungry slut."

"Yes, Master. I'm your slut. Your dirty little fag. Fuck your faggot. Fuck me."

He hisses and stills as I speak, and even though he's still wearing his condom, I know he's shooting his load in me, and I finally let loose.

I don't even touch myself. I just allow the force in the pit of my stomach to come out, and it spurts out of me, painting my chest with my seed.

It feels so liberating, so good. It's like I can finally breathe after drowning for hours, days, years.

"Good, little kitten," he says and slaps my cheek gently a couple of times as he inhales deeply.

I lick my lips and sigh, the pet name ringing in my head like a song.

A sickly sweet song that only further reminds me this isn't real. It's a paid service. I'm not his kitten. I'm not his anything. I'm his boss, and that's all I'll ever be.

"Now scooch up, mister," he says. "I need a breather before I go again."

"Uh-huh. Me too," I say and make space for him beside me. "Actually, can you grab my phone," I add before he can claim it. "I want to do an update."

"An update?" I can see the question marks on his face, but I ignore them.

"Yeah. Maybe we can put a picture up to say how well the date went. If you don't mind."

"Oh," he answers. "Me? No. I…I don't mind."

Then Milo turns his back to me and searches for my phone.

I want to admire his bubble butt, his naked body, and the fact he just claimed me like no one before, how I'd just been his servant and taken full joy in it, but I can't. That's not the case, is it? He doesn't own me. He doesn't own me at all. If anything, I own him.

And that is so not sexy.