cock.
“I’m already hard, but the men you service may not always be. Lessons on excitation will have to wait, as will lessons on proper care and treatment of a foreskin. Many Americans don’t have them, or Jews or Muslims the world over, but most others will. I myself am a Jew; or my mother was, at least.” He touched a hand through the boy’s hair, resisting the urge to press that beautiful mouth to his groin by force. “You may find this a blessing; I am told I’m less sensitive during intercourse, and so it takes me longer to orgasm. But on the other hand, I am likely to be cleaner, even if I haven’t washed for some time.”
The face the boy made at that was precious. No doubt he’d had many a foul thing shoved in his mouth during his stay at Madame’s. Nikolai had seen her guards many times, and those brief glimpses inspired no envy for the boy. He really did deserve better. Nikolai would have to be the one to give it to him.
Still, Madame’s men had performed an essential service. They’d taught the boy pain so that, with luck, Nikolai wouldn’t have to. In Douglas’s eyes, he could be the kind master. The good guy. The rescuer he truly was.
“You can begin,” he said. Douglas nearly went cross-eyed trying to take in the looming length of cock that stood in front of him. “Sometimes the man you service will wish to come quickly. Sometimes not. You must learn to read their desires and service them accordingly.” Douglas’s lips wrapped around the very tip of his cock, warmth and wetness followed by tentative suction. “What do you think I want now?”
A blink. An aborted shake of the head. I don’t know . Not How should I know? Just I don’t know . Maybe even, Help me?
“Not every man is as verbal as me. Some don’t know what they want until it’s over. I’m afraid I’d be doing you a disservice to tell you anything. So why don’t you try something? See how good your instincts are. If I seem bored or impatient, speed up. If I seem too eager, too close too soon, slow down.”
Douglas pulled off, sitting back on his heels. “I can’t. Sir. I . . . I can’t. I don’t know how. I’m not gay.” It was a strange sort of protest. Not insolence, not refusal. Frustration, more like. “Can’t you just . . .”
“Fuck your mouth like those animals at Madame’s no doubt did? No. Some men take their pleasure that way, and I’d be remiss if I didn’t teach you how to bear it, but let me reiterate, you are not merely a hole under this roof, never will be again, and if that’s all I teach you to be, then as a trainer I’ve failed. I’ll never force you—I mean that. But . . . Choices. Consequences. Remember?”
The boy looked a little shell-shocked. Confused. In that perfect headspace Nikolai needed to work his magic: torn between hatred and gratitude.
“You must be hungry,” Nikolai tried.
Douglas nodded. “Yes, sir. Thirsty too.”
“Pleasure me. Then I’ll feed and water you.”
Hatred and gratitude again, this time mixed with disgust and longing. The boy didn’t want to think of himself as a whore—even if the price of his favors was survival itself. But he did want to survive.
Nikolai took pity. “Wrap a hand around my shaft. Your dominant one.” The boy obeyed. “Tighter, it’s all right, I won’t break. Touch me how you like to touch yourself.” The grip firmed. One tentative stroke, a second, a little twist over the crown. “Ahhh, yes, that’s lovely. My cock is not so very large as some you might see—some might need two hands. Others—smaller ones—might call for only thumb and forefinger. Now then, lean in, mouth on the crown. Stroke and suck in rhythm. Vary speed and depth. If your techniques with your hand and lips and tongue are strong, you need not always swallow a man down your throat.” He paused for a moment to let the boy explore those techniques—halting, inexpert, too slow, too gentle. “But you will of course learn to do that too. Harder now, and a