Page 28 of Kane
I yank open the bedside drawer and grab the thick black butt plug I almost never use. It feels heavy in my palm. My breath is already coming fast. I squirt a generous amount of lube onto it, coating every inch, my fingers trembling.
Then without pause I pull out my favorite dildo, the realistic one with the thick veins and extra girth, and lay it on the bed beside me.
I climb onto the mattress on my front, my heart hammering.
My nipples drag against the sheets as I reach back with both hands and spread my sore cheeks wide. The cool air kisses my punished skin and aching cock. I let go of one cheek and with my spare hand press the tip of the lubed plug against my ass hole and push.
“Ahh…mmmmph,” The moan slips out as the thickest part stretches me open. It burns in the most delicious way, especially on top of the ruler marks Kane left behind. I keep pushing until it pops fully inside, filling me completely. My toes curl. Pleasure and discomfort twist together so perfectly I nearly cum right then.
But I can’t orgasm.
Not quite yet.
No before I do what I know I must…
I grab the dildo with one hand and bring it to my mouth. My lips part and I suck the head inside, swirling my tongue around it like I wish I could do forhim. I push it deeper, gagging myself on purpose as the memory of the library floods back.
Kane’s stern voice fills my head.
In my fantasy he tells me to suck his cock. No, hecommandsit.
I bob my head faster, tears pricking my eyes as I choke on the thick silicone. My free hand slides underneath my body. I grip my cock and pulse it. The plug shifts inside me with every rockof my hips, my hand squeezing and flexing against my hard dick.
Everything is working together.
My body, my mind, the perfect storm.
As I picture Kane grabbing me by the ears and roughly working my mouth on his big Daddy dick, the orgasm crashes into me without warning. My legs shake violently. I cry out around the dildo, gagging harder as waves of pleasure rip through me. My dick goes extra hard and releases thick ropes of cum as the plug keeps my ass so deliciously full and working hard on my G-spot.
“Fucccccck,cummmmmm, keepcummmmming,” I say, totally lost in the moment. “I’m cumming for you,Dadyyyyy.”
I keep wanking my cock through every aftershock until I’m a trembling, whimpering mess on the sheets.
I lie there for long minutes afterward, cheek pressed to the mattress, dildo still in my mouth, plug buried deep, breathing hard. The high is so intense I start drifting toward sleep right there… naked, stuffed, and utterly spent.
Eventually though I force myself up.
My legs feel like jelly as I stumble to the bathroom and turn on the shower. Hot water cascades over me. I wash my dick gently and ease the plug out of my tight little ass, wincing at the tenderness of my butt cheeks as they come into contact with my hands. The marks are vivid red stripes. I trace one with a fingertip and shiver at the memory of how they got there.
After drying off I pull on my softest pink pajamas—the ones with little hearts—and pad to the kitchen. I pour a bowl of cereal anda tall glass of milk, then sit at the small breakfast table. Twist is perched on the chair beside me like a tiny judge.
I eat mechanically yet dreamily, the crunch of cereal loud in the quiet apartment.
I feel…overwhelmed. But in the best and scariest way possible.
My body is satisfied, glowing, almost floating. But my mind won’t stop spinning. I know almost nothing about Kane. Nothingreal.
He’s older, commanding, clearly dangerous. The way he moves, the way he speaks, the casual authority he wields… it screams that he’s not a regular guy. Not a visiting lecturer. Not some safe Daddy from the club scene like Charles.
Kane is something else entirely.
The thought sends a fresh flutter of fear through my chest. I finish my milk, rinse the bowl, and carry Twist to bed. I curl up under the covers with him tucked against my chest.
Sleep claims me quickly, but it’s restless… full of dark eyes, strong hands, and the terrifying thrill of not knowing what I’ve gotten myself into.
* * *
The next morning I wake early, nerves already buzzing. I dress in comfy jeans and an oversized sweater, slip Twist into my backpack for moral support, and head out for an early breakfast at the café across from the Uppington Building. The same place Davey and I sat yesterday. It feels safer somehow—familiar, bright, full of normal students and academics.
