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I slapped his face. He gasped in pain, eyes flying wide and a surprised cry wrenching from his throat. I hadn’t slapped him hard enough to bruise him. He had fine, fair skin, though. It wouldn’t take much to leave a mark. This first slap might even linger as a red stain for hours. I was curious to see how long.
“Say it again,” I demanded, unzipping my jeans and pulling my hard cock free. “The right way. And thank me for correcting you.”
“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” His voice was breathless. “You—you told me you were HIV positive already. Before, Sir.”
He looked dizzy, as if he were already dropping into subspace, which was unexpected. From what I understood, he got off with the men who abused him, but he didn’t fall into subspace or fly with them. I got the impression he often kept control of the scenariothroughout. Or kept whatever semblance of control could be maintained while getting the shit beaten out of him and being fucked ruthlessly—egging the assholes on to do it harder, pleading for them to hurt him again.
My own breath hitched just imagining it. Not out of fear for his life—the way it would have for any non-sadist—but in arousal. The truth was I’d like to take him like that. Fuck him like I hated him. Beat him while I did it until we both got off screaming.
Afterward, I’d soothe him and bring him down to a safe, comfortable place in my bed…
But that kind of abuse wasn’t sane or healthy. It was a fantasy no one should live out, not without a lot of clear rules and boundaries in place. But, perhaps, if Mitchell and I were compatible enough, we could stage something close to that brutality, something that would scare him deeply, but not risk his health or life. It’d be fun to try. I hoped I’d get the chance.
Releasing his hair, I wrenched his jaw open and spit into his mouth. “Swallow it,” I said.
He did, eyes wide, and chest heaving with his breaths. A drop of pre-cum formed at the tip of his cock, and my aching dick brushed against my stomach when I leaned down to spit into his mouth again. “We.”
Spit.
Mitchell dutifully swallowed.
“Are.”
Spit. Swallow.
“HIV.”
Spit. Swallow.
“Positive.”
Spit. Swallow.
I thumbed his mouth open wider, pressing down on his lower teeth, and then aimed my cock at his pink, glistening tongue andwide-open throat.
“Do you know what that means?” I said, keeping his mouth firmly open so he couldn’t speak to answer me. “It means I can do this…”
I hesitated for a moment, giving him time to use his safe word before I penetrated his mouth for the first time. But he didn’t. He just opened wider for me, and I shoved in. “Without a fucking condom.”
Christ, his mouth was good. He knew exactly what he was doing. Gripping my thighs hard, he sucked, licked, kissed, and gulped me down like he hadn’t had a cock in his hungry throat in a hundred years. But I knew damn well from our friend Barry that the kid hadn’t let his HIV status slow him down when it came to his love of cum guzzling.
After pushing my jeans lower, giving him more room to work, I let him go to town on me. I gripped his hair roughly in one hand and tweaked my own nipples with the other. As I drew close to climax, I pulled him off, and he gazed up with a hazy, aroused expression, keeping his mouth open in case I wanted to plunge back in. Perfect.
“Do you know what else being HIV positive means between us?” I asked him.
He licked his red, suck-swollen lips, and rasped, “No, Sir.”
“It means I can also do this.” Using my grip on his hair, I forced him around on his knees. He cried out in pain, surprised by the sudden manhandling. I forced his head down to the ground, knelt behind him, and lifted his hips up as I aimed my cock at his hole.
The skin on his back shimmered with sudden sweat, and his ass cheeks quivered with goose pimples as I pushed my way through the tense muscle of his tight anus. He’d lubed beforehand, as I’d instructed him to do when we made our plans to meet, but I wouldn’t have stopped even if he hadn’t. Still, the slick had growntacky since he’d applied it, making my entrance less than gentle. Mitchell panted and clenched his hands into fists, but he didn’t move away from me. In fact, he pushed back, forcing me deeper and faster into his hot, velvety ass. Fuck, he was eager.
I slapped his hip hard. “Be still. I’ll decide how fast I get into my nasty little cum dumpster. Because that’s what you are, isn’t it, Mitchell? Daddy’s dirty cum dumpster.”
Mitchell went perfectly still, immobile almost, and I smirked. The buzzy sensation of power and domination that I loved like nothing else in the world arced through me. Sliding in deeper, I threw my head back, enjoying the delicious grip of his hole and the control I was exerting over him.
“Poodle.”
I froze, shocked to hear the word that ended our play. As quickly as I could, given how tight he was, I pulled out.
