Unreservedly

Dean watches me, his cock flexing and twitching in answer to my licking him. His cock rises slow, but he grows large and thick, his meat standing proud in front of me. The heavy pole between us, I glance from his cock to offer him eye contact.

“Fuck, never thought you would end up on my cock,” Dean says, spreading his legs a bit farther and bending his knees, to soles on my ass. “Did Amy do this with her brainwashing?” I nod in answer, licking his cock from the hilt up to the helm.

“Yes, but she removed very little of my agency in the process,” I answer truthfully, “I am still me, I just like being called a bitch, fag, faggot, slut, and whore, and if you have your cock out while calling me that, I'll feel compelled to worship you.”

“Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me ... slut,” Dean answers, and I smile up at him happily, licking him again, and kissing my way down his cock worshipfully. “Fuck that feels nice, faggot. Earn your lunch, whore.” I moan, smiling at him.

“Get on it, faggot,” Dean says, his voice now edged firmer with command, as he realises he can simply order me to service, and that makes this easier for him. “Eat your lunch, bitch. Now.” I wrap my lips around his cock and slide down to his hilt.

“Maintain eye contact while you eat, whore,” Dean orders, and I comply. My eyes focus immediately on his, watching him as he runs the fingers of one hand through my hair, and the fingers of his other hand through his own, just staring at me.

Not weird or creepy, but affectionate, relaxed, and sweet, with a heartfelt warmth. I slide my lips up to his crown, grinding my tongue against his frenulum. He groans softly, watching me as my mouth slides back down to his hilt, swallowing on it.

“You're good at this, faggot,” Dean says, adjusting to calling me names, watching me bob my head on his cock. I hasten my pace, moaning loudly as my lips slide up his shaft, offering sensual vibrations. Dean's fingers in my hair massage my scalp.

I smile around his cock as best I can, looking up at him and swallowing as my lips reach his hilt. As I work his meat, Dean's eyes watch his cock moving in and out of my mouth. I can feel his heartbeat through his shaft, can tell he isn't resisting it.

“I'll feed you as soon as I can, slut,” Dean promises, “I know you must be hungry, fag.” I moan softly, appreciatively, as my tongue grinds along his underside on my way down. I work hard, worshipping his cock with everything I'm able to offer.

When his cock starts to pulse, I hasten my movements. I bob my head faster, harder, almost fucking my own mouth on his cock. He growls, low and soft, his fingers flexing against my scalp, as the pulsing of his meat becomes ever steadily harder.

I freeze abruptly, only his crown in my mouth, as he reaches his zenith. The first rivulet of his cream pumps out onto my tongue. He growls louder, closing his eyes and leaning back further, and lets himself just enjoy cumming into my mouth.

I swallow after every pulse, happily consuming his milk. Keeping only the crown in my mouth so I can taste his cream, my eyes close since he's ended eye contact. I simply hold position, letting his milk pulse onto my tongue, and I drink hungrily.

When his pulsation subsides, I slide my mouth down, one more time, and clamp my lips tight. I pull my mouth back up his length, milking him for every last drop of his cream. My eyes open, and find his locked on them already, as I lift off of him.

I slowly, sensually lick the last drop of his creamy, dense milk form his crown. Dean groans with arousal, fingers flexing as if he wants to shove me right back down on it. He sighs, instead, sliding his hand down from my hair to cupping my cheek.

“Good, faggot?” he asks, his tone affectionate and respectful.

“Yes. Thanks, Dean,” I reply, gently tucking his cock back into his underclothes, then buttoning and zipping him while one hand presses down on his meat, protecting him from metal teeth. I turn my head, kissing his palm to show my gratitude.

“From now on, faggot?” he says, stroking his fingers through my hair, “I will feed you anytime. Just let me know when you are hungry, and I'll feed you.” I can't resist simply beaming up at him, and he caresses my cheek with his palm, warmly.

“Thanks, Dean!” I answer happily, before sliding off his bed and collecting my clothes, “Okay, Amy should be ready to feed me and know if anyone's coming over to help me get a full lunch.” Dean nods, and slides off his bed, returning to his desk.

Author's Note:
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Author's Note:
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