He climbs out of his soiled shorts slowly, then slips his wet underwear off moments later, chewing on his bottom lip as his hard cock springs free and bobs in the air between us. It’s flushed a deep pink, similar to his cheeks, the glossy, dark head having popped out from the foreskin now bunched beneath it.
I want to reach for it. To stroke it. To rub it up alongside my own aching shaft and demand that Benji let go all over me in every possible way he can.
But I can’t do that. Not when he hasn’t earned the reward.
Remaining silent, I undress in front of him, observing him as he watches my every move. I’m unhurried, which takes a lot more effort than I want to admit, and his obvious arousal feeds into my own.
“I’m turning the shower on and then I’m going to make sure you’re all cleaned up after your accident,” I tell him, ignoring theway his dick twitches with interest. “You can use your safe words at any time, okay?”
He swallows roughly before he nods. “Yes, Daddy.”
As much as I love hearing the title fall from his lips, I take a moment to assure him, “You don’t have to call me Daddy, Benji. I really enjoy it, but this is our first scene together, and we haven’t really negotiated—”
“I want to,” he interrupts, sounding far more earnest than he has all afternoon. His blush travels up to his ears, but he doesn’t shy away from explaining, “I like it. It feels right for you. For this. Better than Counselor Kris or…I don’t know, Sir, I guess.”
I scrunch my nose up at the latter. “I’ve never really thought ‘Sir’ worked for me, either.”
“Yeah…it doesn’t suit you. I like ‘Daddy’, though.” He shrugs. “I’m not one of those ‘you have to earn it’ people. I don’t…I’ve never really spent more than a scene or two with a Daddy before, so…yeah.”
There’s something additionally heartbreaking about that admission. Has he really never had a Daddy of his own? A proper Daddy/Boy relationship, even if only a short one? I can’t imagine he has any reason to lie, so then I immediately want to know why. Has he just not wanted that? It’s not unusual for people to indulge in kink only on occasion…but that doesn’t really gel with the kind of person who would immerse themselves at a 24/7 camp for regression play.
Resolving to talk about it after our impromptu scene, I smile. “That’s fine. I just wanted you to know it’s not expected, okay?”
There’s another flash of something undefinable and soft in his eyes as he says, “Thank you.” It is quickly blinked away and replaced by another cheeky smile. “I’m still all icky,Daddy.”
“That’s what happens when you decide to go potty in your pants, honey.”
He squirms. I don’t bother hiding my grin. His teeth sink into his lower lip again, and I’m magnanimous enough to ignore his needy whimper.
He really does enjoy being teased. I could have so much fun with that.
A minute later, and I’m ushering him into the shower stall, the water temperature soothingly warm, but not hot considering the heat of summer permeating the cabin. I’ve grabbed a washcloth from the stack of towels under the bathroom sink, and the bottle of fruit-scented bodywash from Benji’s toiletries bag.
“Now, do you remember what the rule is?” I ask while I squirt some of the soap onto the wet cloth.
He huffs, replying petulantly, “I’m not allowed to come.”
“Good boy.”
The challenging glint in his eye reappears, but it seems he’s learning, because he keeps his mouth shut and nods.
His shoulders are tense as I start to lather the soap over his chest and neck first, but he starts to loosen up when I move on to washing one arm and then the other, I get him to turn around and I repeat the motion across his upper back and down the backs of his arms, then check in for his traffic light color before swooping the cloth over his tight, firm butt and down the back of his thighs. He braces a hand on the tiles and widens his stance when I bring the soapy cloth up again, pushing it in between his thighs, cleaning the skin here more thoroughly.
My cock jumps when he moans and pushes back against my hand, clamping his thighs around the cloth.
“Benji…”
“Iknow,” I don’t have to see his pretty face to know he’s rolling his eyes, “no coming.”
“Brat,” I scold gently, giving his pert ass cheeks a gentle, admonishing swat with my free hand. “Keep being a good boy for me andmaybeyou’ll get a reward after all.”
You’re a big, ol’ softie, Kris.This Boy is going to walk all over you if you let him.
My inner voice is not wrong. But with the tiny tidbits of information Benji has let slip so far, I can’t help thinking that he’s never known what it’s like to have a Daddy spoil him. If this scene is our only interaction, I want to walk away knowing that someone has shown him a softer, sweeter kind of scene. One where he can be a brat and can push boundaries, but where he can also be a bit more vulnerable if he wants to be. I want to be the Daddy that gives him that safe space, who shows him that there’s more than one way to tame a brat.
He cooperates when I ask him to turn around, and I take care to wash the front of his legs and over his cock as efficiently as possible. He trembles as the soapy, sudsy cloth passes over his erection, but he doesn’t come or thrust in for more friction.
“Good,” I tell him, straightening up now that he’s been washed. “Rinse off, honey.”
