by Quin Perin
Baxter’s cock swelled at that realization. The pretty little blond twink had been talking about him? He only hoped it was about how much he wanted to wrap those sweet lips around his cock and gag on it. “Been talkin’ about me, huh?”
Caleb refused to make eye contact with Baxter, hands twisting in his lap and that blush never fading. He leaned into the Master’s legs, turning to hide his face against his thigh.
The longer Baxter looked at Caleb kneeling on the floor like that, bashful as a virgin on her wedding night, the more he wanted to have him. He was just about to broach the subject of whether or not Caleb was available to lend out when the Master spoke up. “Would you like to play with my pet?”
Blinking, Baxter tilted his head to the side. He was playing innocent. As if he hadn’t just been thinking about that himself. “Hm? Me? Well, if he’s available…”
Baxter would be stupid to turn it down. He wanted him. Since Caleb was no longer in his classes and was of legal age, there was no reason why he couldn’t indulge himself by playing with him. Technically at least. He would definitely get fired though. “Of course he’s available. He’s an eager little whore, and he’s been very good lately. Might as well give him a reward.” The Master rose to his feet, and Baxter noticed the large bulge protruding from his tight pants. Impressive. The leash looped around the man’s hand before he pulled at Caleb, making him fall forward onto his hands and knees. “The bigger the cock, the more he begs for it. Isn’t that right?”
“Meow,” Caleb agreed quietly. The position he was in now made it very clear where that tail was coming from; the white faux-fur a complement to the bright red of his ass cheeks. The perky cheeks were cupped by lacy white straps, like a jockstrap but...more delicate. Did...did the boy have a lace jockstrap? A white lace jockstrap? Christ on a fucking cross, that was almost too much.
Struggling hard to maintain his cool, Baxter pulled his hand from his right pocket, dropping it down. He grabbed the outline of his cock through his pants, squeezing it so Caleb could see just how long and thick it was. Almost fully hard thanks to the kitty boy in front of him. “I certainly have enough to get him beggin’.”
A dark chuckle left the man; he looked to Caleb, still on the floor next to him. “Does my pet want to go play?” he cooed in a singsong tone as he made Caleb look up at him. “Wanna go see what the coach has there for you?”
Caleb nodded bashfully. It hit Baxter in all the right ways. He wanted to stain those cheeks pink as he struggled for air around his cock. Wanted to hear the sounds he made when he fisted his hair between those ears. Would he meow when Baxter’s cock was stuffed inside him? Or would he sob in pleasure?
Unwrapping the leash from around his hand, the Master passed the end of it over to Baxter. The metal was so delicate Baxter was certain he would be able to snap it in half without much effort. It wasn’t necessarily the sturdiest of leashes, but he had to admit that the delicate nature of it suited the boy.
“Here. He’ll not speak unless you ask him to, and he’ll crawl unless you specify you’d like him to walk. He’s pretty well trained.” The Master was dispassionate with his words, very matter-of-fact while listing the qualities of his pet. It was all very businesslike, and Baxter wondered how often they did this. Lending him out like that. If Caleb was his pet, he didn’t think he would be able to share.
“Any limits that I should know about?” He gave the lightest of tugs to pull Caleb toward him. The boy stayed on his hands and knees, crawling over with surprising grace. His chest was lower to the ground, back arched, and ass stuck out with that long white tail dragging behind him. He moved to kneel next to Baxter, leaning lightly against his legs. The soft brush of his shoulder was very distracting.
Crossing his arms over his chest, the man shook his head with a wolfish grin. “Nothing permanent can be done to him. No cutting. No piercings. He likes being covered in come, but that’s it. Other than that...not really,” he assured Baxter. The man’s attention was already drifting toward a flogging taking place on one of the nearby couches, and he blatantly adjusted his erection in his pants. “He’s a hard pet to break. So masochistic for someone so young. He’ll give you his safeword and use it if he needs to. Enjoy.”
With that, they were dismissed, and Caleb’s Master took off toward the sound of gagged moans and leather against flesh. Now that they were left alone, Baxter examined his new toy with hunger. He liked having him on his knees, but that wasn’t enough. He wanted to examine every inch of him—take it all in. His large hand engulfed Caleb’s arm as he tugged him up. “Come on. On your feet. Let Daddy see you.”
Baxter lifted Caleb with absolutely no effort. In fact, the boy was so light he pulled a bit too hard and nearly hauled him off his feet. Once he was standing, lecherous eyes took in every detail of that pale body. Stiff pink nipples begging to be nibbled. Baxter’s large hand could easily wrap around the boy’s thigh and have his fingers meet. Hell, the boy was so petite it looked like Baxter’s hands would easily meet around his waist. Like he could squeeze and snap him in half.
He didn’t think he’d ever seen someone so delicate and doll-like. Caleb was at least a foot shorter than Baxter, golden head coming up to the center of his chest. Images of the boy’s small hand around his cock flashed through his mind. He’d have to use both hands to get it around the width of his shaft, that much Baxter was sure of. As he looked closer, he noticed the only thing not quite as small being the outline of the boy’s cock.
Baxter had been right. The boy wore a jockstrap, but it was unlike any he’d ever seen before. The white lace showed off every detail of Caleb’s flushed cock, and it even had a little ruffle around the top. Its outline looked slim but long, cut, and a delicate dark pink. Baxter wanted to see it, engulf it in his hand, taste it. Some men were all about taking with so little giving. They thought their cock was God’s gift to twinks, but they didn’t have much to back it up. Baxter didn’t understand them. He loved nothing more than devouring a pretty cock. Eating a cute hole. It didn’t make him less of a man. It just drove his boys crazy and kept them coming. Literally.
When he’d gorged himself on the sight of Caleb, Baxter reached out and cupped the back of the boy’s neck, pulling him close. He loomed over him as blue eyes turned to look up shyly. There was a question in his eyes, but he’d made it very clear he wouldn’t speak unless he’d be given permission.
So Baxter asked, “What is it, boy?”
A pale hand reached out to brush across Baxter’s chest, pawing at his shirt. “Do you want me to be your kitten?” Caleb asked. “Or is there something else you desire?”
Jeeeesus. Caleb really knew all the right things to say, and he seemed more than eager to please. Baxter had a feeling the boy would be anything he wanted. His own, personal little concubine.
Baxter hummed, brushing a strand of blond hair behind his ear. He didn’t pull his hand away, large fingers surprisingly featherlight as he stroked across Caleb’s jaw and dragged his thumb over his lower lip. “Kitten,” he decided. “I want you to be my slutty, little kitten.”
The boy purred in agreement and nipped at Baxter’s thumb, catching it between his teeth and lapping his tongue around it. Baxter’s wandering hand slid away from those pink velvety soft lips and grazed down the boy’s back before finding a new home on his cute, little bubble butt. Baxter had wanted to squeeze it since he’d seen Caleb in his gym shorts, disturbing thoughts that he’d fought hard to keep at bay. It was usually easier when it had been with shy little Caleb; Baxter had a very specific type, and Caleb matched that perfectly.
Grabbing a handful of bare ass, he used it to tug the boy even closer. With their bodies pressed together, Caleb’s breath was warm against his chest. “Now, kitten, why don’t you come up here and whisper your safeword into my ear, huh? Wouldn’t want to break such a pretty plaything.” Caleb didn’t know what he was getting into, and Baxter wanted him to be able to tap out if he needed to. He could be a beast, but at the very least, he
was a respectful beast. He’d never once gone too far, but with someone as petite as Caleb, he wasn’t sure what he could take.
Both of Caleb’s hands moved to Baxter’s chest, fingers curling into his shirt as he leveraged himself onto his toes. Back arched, stretched out exactly like a kitten. Even then, Baxter had to tilt his head down so Caleb could reach his ear. He smelled liquor on the boy’s breath, a sharp scent with the sweet hint of sugar. He imagined the boy preferred frilly drinks. The kind with a deceptive amount of liquor in bright colors. It suited him.
“Orwell.”
Baxter stroked along Caleb’s spine, and the boy pressed toward the touch, a quiet purr leaving him. “I can remember that,” Baxter assured him. His fingers danced up to the back of the boy’s neck, and he dug his fingertips into the tender skin. “Have you been sipping on your Master’s drink?”
Caleb bit on his lower lip, lashes lowered. He nodded, silky hair falling into his face. He dragged his nails downward and touched the tip of his tongue to the center of his upper lip. “Mew.” Baxter didn’t speak kitten, but he assumed that meant yes.
Clicking his tongue, Baxter shook his head as he looked down at him. He put on the serious face he used when he had to scold his players, making it clear he was disappointed and not to be messed with. “Mm. Naughty kitten,” he murmured. He grabbed the boy’s hair and yanked his head back. The collar stood out starkly against creamy flesh, accentuating it. Baxter wanted to sink his teeth into it. “You know you’re too young to drink. You’re a very naughty kitten, aren’t you? You know what happens to naughty kittens?”
Another purr and Caleb squirmed, clawing at Baxter. He was dedicated to his role, and Baxter appreciated that. It was hot as fuck, and he wished he had a camera so he could record this. Remember it. This was something new to him, and it was very rare he found something new.
Leaning forward, Baxter ghosted his lips across the boy’s throat, tongue tasting his Adam’s apple. “They get punished,” he whispered, voice husky.
A very noticeable tremor went through Caleb’s body, and a quiet whimper left him. He didn’t speak a word, but the way his hands moved, continuing to slash at Baxter, betrayed his eagerness. He knew what Caleb wanted to say. What he would have if given permission.
Please, please, please.
“Come, kitten.” He let go of Caleb’s hair and stepped away from him. His other hand still held the leash, so he pulled the boy with him, intending to have him walk behind him. But then he paused, and a wicked smirk crossed his lips. Caleb was posed midstep, one foot lifted, weight forward on his toes. Graceful like a dancer, that tail swaying behind him. “Hands and knees. Crawl like a good kitten.”
Caleb dropped to his knees. Without hesitation, his hands smacked against the dark linoleum. It took immense control not to stare at Caleb while they made their way over to one of the large leather couches, closer to the bar. The same one the now vanished redhead had been sitting on. The boy knew how to tempt him, how to tease, that was for sure. His back curved in just the right way to show off the globes of his ass, and the tail dragged behind, disappearing between his cheeks. Baxter wanted to know how thick that plug was. He suspected it was bigger than he’d thought originally; Caleb was proving himself full of surprises.
Sinking heavily onto the sofa, knees giving an embarrassing crack, Baxter spread his thighs wide and eyed Caleb. The boy didn’t wait for an invitation and crawled between his legs, settling back on his feet. He placed one hand on the floor, lifting his other. Baxter needed a moment to recognize the mischief in Caleb’s eyes before the boy stole his breath away.
Fingers curled, Caleb brought his hand up and flicked his tongue on the back of it. Then he rubbed it across his ear. As if he was grooming himself. He repeated the motion several times. Getting one ear clean, then moving on to the other one with a quiet purr. Precum dribbled from the tip of Baxter’s cock, underwear clinging to the head from how damp it was. It was over when Caleb ran the back of both hands over his face, crinkling his nose up in a way too precious for what he was trying to do. Properly cleaned off, he set his hands on the floor and looked up at Baxter once more, head cocked to the side as he licked his lips.
Too fucking much.
The leash was discarded, silver chain clinking onto the floor. Baxter snatched up Caleb’s arm; his fingers wrapped easily around it, with room to spare. He really was the tiniest guy Baxter had ever been with. Hauling the boy up, making him stretch so his chest rested against the front of Baxter’s jeans, he leaned in so they were face-to-face. “Are you ready to take your punishment?” Baxter asked, eyes flickering darkly.
Caleb nodded, and Baxter tightened his grip to the point where he knew it would leave bruises. “Answer properly.”
“Meow!” It was an enthusiastic sound that was followed by a purr and nails dragging down Baxter’s thighs.
“Much better.” Baxter ran his tongue over his lips, eyes devouring the boy. That swelling in Caleb’s lacy jock hadn’t gone down, nor had the crimson blush faded from his cheeks. Turned on and embarrassed by it? Or generally shy, Baxter supposed. For such a filthy boy, he managed to seem sweet and innocent. It made Baxter want to tarnish him.
Caleb was light as a feather, and Baxter had no problem pulling him horizontally across his lap in one swift movement, scooting forward on the couch. The boy was stretched out, the perfect position to have that ass of his reddened. His tiny toes were pointed, barely able to touch the floor, and his fingers tangled in Baxter’s jeans down by his calf, the only purchase he could find. He wiggled, back arched and perky ass in the air, tail hanging down between his thighs. Baxter smirked, giving him a quick swat. “Be still, kitten,” he ordered. “Daddy doesn’t want to have to punish you even more.”
A quiet breath hissed out from Caleb, and his head fell forward, hair covering his face as he tightened his fingers on Baxter’s pants. Even the lightest smack left a splotch of red on the fair skin. He was so pale it wouldn’t take much effort to bruise him up. The perfect canvas for Baxter to cover.
He had intended to punish Caleb, and he would get around to that eventually, but right now, a more pressing matter caught his attention. Thick fingers brushed over the tail. It was soft and such a snowy white. He was impressed at the condition it was in. Something like that had to be hard to keep clean, especially in a sex club. But it was perfect. Pure. Like Caleb.
“I wonder…” Baxter murmured thoughtfully. He leaned to the side, both hands grabbing Caleb’s cheeks to spread them. He was still curious about the plug part of his tail, wondering if it was big enough he could possibly fuck him. It was hard to see past the tail, so he wrapped his fingers around the top of it and pulled slowly. He wasn’t going to remove it, not yet, but he wanted to move it out far enough to sate his curiosity.
Caleb certainly didn’t seem to mind. The moment Baxter gave a wiggle of the plug, he tensed up and let out a whimper.
Carefully, using one hand to keep Caleb’s cheeks open, Baxter started to twist the plug. It was a silver one, which somehow fit the boy better than one of the industrial-looking rubber ones. Something about him screamed elegance, even while wearing a jockstrap and a tail. He looked slutty but didn’t seem like it. His eyes were bright and wide, bordering on innocent, but when he cocked his head to meet his gaze, there was something lurking deeper. Wanton lust. A disguised monster waiting to get out.
And God, for such a tiny little thing, Caleb probably had one of the nicest asses he’d seen in a long time. And he couldn’t wait to mark it up.
Baxter lifted his hand, eyes fixed on Caleb’s profile as he brought it down. He didn’t use all his strength, not even half of it, but his palm still connected with a resounding smack against the boy’s ass that made the cheeks jiggle faintly.
A strangled sound emerged, feet kicking out and nails dragging over the material of his jeans. “M-Meow!” It sounded as if Caleb had almost broken his character but managed to recover at the last moment
Red, in the
vague shape of Baxter’s hand, spread over Caleb’s ass before he lifted his hand again. Caleb writhed, unable to keep still. He felt Caleb’s cock rubbing across his thigh and hoped he wasn’t going to have a stain from the boy’s leaking tip. That would be hard to explain away. “Ready for more?” he asked, mildly amused, squeezing a pink cheek hard.
“Mew.” Caleb squeaked eagerly, arching his back and giving his ass a wiggle.
He was literally asking for it. And well, Baxter was going to have to give it to him. It was the only thing to do. What kind of man would he be if he denied a squirming...meowing, pretty blond twink a spanking? A stupid one.
Like machine-gun fire his large hand came down on tender flesh, several times in a row. Baxter didn’t bother to keep count, smacking until the center of his palm started to sting. Caleb’s toes skidded across the floor, and his fingers scrambled for purchase each time his body rocked forward; he failed each time. He was just too petite, too delicate compared to Baxter’s massive force. He didn’t even need to vary his position to get Caleb’s whole ass coated in a nice pink.
Only when the skin burned beneath his palm, fiery red, did he decide it was enough. One more resounding smack that nearly knocked the boy off his lap, and then he was finished. Caleb panted, his eyes closed and his hair falling into his eyes. His lashes looked wet, and his whole face was flushed. For a moment Baxter worried he’d gone too far. Too fast and too hard for the boy to get out his safeword.
But that worry vanished quickly when Caleb shifted on his lap and kneaded at Baxter’s thigh. Those beautiful blue eyes blinked up at him, lower lip stuck out. “Mew?”
Bax’s cock twitched beneath the denim of his jeans, and he let out a soft chuckle. He’d met bigger guys who wanted to be subs, said they wanted to be punished, and the moment they got one whack, they were screaming their safeword and crying. Which was fine. Everyone had limits, but Baxter could definitely appreciate a proper masochist squirming in his lap.
