Page 8 of Daddy’s Rules

Before I could get another word out, his lips touched the tip, pulling the foreskin up and taking me into the depths of his warm mouth, salivating down my shaft then licking it off. He tried deepthroating, getting so far and then yanking himself away. His eyes, looking at me for approval, were bloodshot from trying.

“Keep going,” I said.

We were having fun, and we needed it to last. All I’d needed was for him to stop teasing me, and now he had. He’d got a taste, and he didn’t want to stop. He slapped his cheeks like drums with my dick once more, harder with each whack, watching as droplets flew off. He went deep again, covering my cock in saliva, sliding up again with his tongue, trailing the sensitive seam that reached the frenulum, even more sensitive. He strummed his tongue across it like he was playing a guitar. I was a one-man band to his face, and he could play me all night long if he wanted.

Red and warm in the face, Benji, a clear workaholic, now looked to me for a promotion—from oral, it seemed. He didn’t have to wait, or ask, all he had to do was present himself, and I’d take it from there.

“You done?” I asked.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good boy.”

Benji lips pursed into a pout. “Thank you.”

“I have a request,” I said.

“Okay, what is it?”

“The nightstand,” I said, sitting upright, my dick at attention, now pressed against my hairy abdomen.

In the nightstand, there were two sets of cuffs. He held them, one set in each hand, dangling. “For me?”

I nodded. “I told you, I like to be in control. Complete control. And since it’s my turn, I’d like to cuff you to the bed. You can refuse. If it makes you uncomfortable, tell me.”

He shook his head, a smile starting across his lips. “I’m ready,” he said, clearing his throat and bowing his head. “I’ve already submitted myself to you.”

3. BENJI

I’d only ever played with a toy that was his length, and even then, toys just weren’t like the real thing. Toys didn’t have the knee-jerk reaction that a human body did. They didn’t pulse, they didn’t throb, they didn’t fill your insides with a creamy center—not unless you paid for the fancy ones.

My body had every right to feel scared and unprepared, even if I had prepared and I was ready. My brain—as well as my mouth, lips, and throat—had all processed how big Daddy Max’s dick was, and just how much skin I had to play with. All that foreskin. He could’ve stretched out an extra inch . . . if it worked like that. I was circumcised, so who knew if that made it smaller, five-something inches. Not like it mattered, I was a bottom, so things fucked me. Those things being the man in front of me, and life.

As Daddy Max traveled down my body with his fingers on the outside of the onesie, he asked me questions. His words were whispered, tickling my skin into a layer of goosebumps. “Tell me what a day for you is like,” he said. “Don’t leave out any details.” He hooked a finger inside the onesie from the zipper, slowly bringing it down and open.

“Well, I already said. I start at six thirty. I wake up, I drink a whole thing of water and a warm green tea, then I go to the gym a block away. I’m there for like forty minutes—treadmill, or a class—then I head home, shower, get dressed. I head to work at 8eight It takes like thirty minutes, so I have a podcast that I listen to—” I paused as his soft touch tickled. “I—I—work from like eight forty-five all the way to like six thirty, not—not the morning.” I let out a giggle. I worked a lot, but I wasn’t going near a twenty-four-hour shift.

Daddy kissed my torso as I tensed my muscles. “You’re a workaholic, then,” he whispered. “You live to serve.”

He was right. I did. “I—uh—”

“Tell me more about the podcast,” he said.

I giggled again. “It’s nothing, it’s silly, it’s—”

“Tell me.” He leaned against my chest, raised the T-shirt, and tried to bite me.

“It’s this guy, he reads fairy tales, they—they help me relax,” I said. “Best when I’m in little space. There’s hundreds of episodes, so I just tune into a random one, and it’s good. I’ll—I’ll listen to them when I work out, when I go to work, and even at work when I’m doing prep and review work, but only one headphone. Don’t tell my boss.”

He continued to kiss me like he was giving each part of my skin attention, as if ready to do it to every part of me. “You like bedtime stories?” he asked.

“Anything, as long as it has a happy ending.”

Looking at me, he smiled. “I like a happy ending. Now, I’m gonna turn you on your front, because I’m an eater, and your ass has been begging for me.”

I nodded. He wasn’t lying. It had been begging. “When are you putting the cuffs on me.”

“Once I’ve decided whether I like you on your back or your belly.”