Page 25 of Mayfly

“Not here.” He drags his fist the full length of my shaft, twists around the head, and draws back. “How good do you think you taste?”

“Why don’t you find out?”

“Good boys don’t tell me what to do.”

Goddamn. The way those words affect me.

“Sorry,” I apologize again without thought, like I haven’t spent the last three decades avoiding the word.

He laughs, “You will be… Unless you try to run away again.”

“Screw you.” I try to roll my hips and fuck Jude’s hand, but he squeezes so hard my back hunches.

“I want to hear you beg.”

“I… I…” I stare down at his hand strangling my cock. “Harder.”

I can feel Jude smile against my neck. “You’re full of surprises… Little Curren.”

I bite down on the tip of my tongue to stop from cursing back at him.

“Good…” With his grip still tight, he drags his hand down my cock. The friction hurts. And when he squeezes the head, I hiss in pain. “…Boy.”

Jude’s other hand is warm against my balls as he cups them. The contrast is the only thing saving me from breaking.

But then, two of his fingers wrap around and trap my balls below them.

He squeezes tighter.

Pulls down.

Stretches.

He tugs the head of my cock in the opposite direction.

It’s fucking agony.

The veins in his forearms are bulging as he ruts against my ass.

I arch back into him, hissing again when the slight movement elevates the pain. But I fucking need it.

“I told you to beg.”

“I… I...” I stammer out as the room spins. “I need...”

“Yes?”

“Please… hurt me more.”

One by one, Jude’s fingers unfurl from the head of my cock to trace at the scarred letters again. “Bitch, ha?”

“Y—yeah.”

“So what the fuck is this, bitch?” he demands, shoving his palm in my face. I try to focus on it, but it’s too close. “You got my hand dirty… What do you say?”

As I exhale; the heat of my breath intensifying the smell of my pre-cum. "I'm sorry."

“And what should you do?”

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