As he continued to cam live with Daddy, Bunny watched thick goblets of cum dripping across his screen: Daddy's cum. Bunny wasn't surprised to look down and see dribbles of watery cum covering his dick and balls. Bunny stared. He could see that – Daddy was already or still, hard as stone; purple knob pulsing with his heartbeat. Bunny shivered. Fuck, Daddy!
“Worship, bunny,” Daddy seemed to growl with a rasp. A quiver ran through Bunny's entire body and he sank to his knees. He leaned so close his breath fogged the screen. His tongue touched, tasted, the slick monitor. “I want to taste you, Daddy,” Bunny mumbled softly.
The leather glove that began to stroke and tease Bunny's dick made that quiver return. It shook Bunny's hardcore response. Every stroke – up and back – of the smooth black leather seemed to tighten around his thin shaft. But it was the virtual touch of Daddy's thick and veiny cock that drove Bunny to an abyss of cum. “Make me cum. Let me cum, Daddy!” It's your voice begging him.
In the darkening echoes.
Like a blurring shadow, the glove fondles, molests, always in perfect control. “Let me...”
And Daddy stops; shifts. Becomes more cruel and hungry. And yet more patient. With his present toy: your dick. You dribble. You drool. But Daddy never quite lets you – makes you – shoot out the geyser building in your ballsack. How many edges – of pleasure and need – will he take you over? Or through? That's that physical trust you give Daddy. “Use me”. If it sometimes involves restraints or ropes, well. These are the tools of the times.
The body is a sculpture of submission when roped. Orifices – mouths and asses – can be positioned in a geometry of exposure: nude in a web. Cocks and balls displayed ingeniously for oiling, caressing, stroking. “Do you love me, Daddy?” Bunny asked in a whisper. “Do you want me to fuck you?”
Bunny tugged harder on his dick. It was so wet with precum, his fingers slid up and down like a piston; squeezing the head, his fist opening and closing like pussy lips. “Daddy!” he cried out, biting his pillow to muffle his shriek.
Bunny passed out. Or thought he did. But the evidence lay in puddles of cum on his purple pillow leading back to the throbbing tip of his dick. It was what always happened. Bunny would cum. Over and over. Daddy would not. Bunny craved Daddy's cum. It obsessed him.
Filling his mouth, running over his lips, down his chin, hot droplets stinging his taut nipples.
Bunny's dreams – rope dreams; dreams smelling of leather and steel – were a mirror land. It was Bunny the Master and Daddy his helpless prey: a prey of lust. Teasing, taunting, tormenting until it was Daddy writhing in pleasure at Bunny's control. How Bunny would edge and edge and edge Daddy's cock and balls. Build his agony and want to the levels he always did for Bunny. In that mirror land.
It was always Bunny writhing; begging for permission to shoot his pent up load of thick white cum. “Please, Daddy?”
Now always stretched into what seemed like months as Bunny squirmed, dick aching, balls squeezed; at that juncture of cum or agony. “Let me...make me.” Tears rolled from his eyes. “Cum, Daddy...”
“Not yet. Bunny,” Daddy replied softly. “Not yet.”
You must be logged in to post wall comments or like a story. Please login or signup (free).