Michael laughed. “Okay. I believe you.” He whipped the spit-streaked plunger from my throat and tossed it on the floor. I heard it land with a heavy thud, and felt ghost pain in my balls.

He picked up my head and carried it to the center of the room. My body was lying on its side on the floor, exhausted. Michael squatted, placed my head on my shoulders, wet his fingers with glowing blue saliva, and stroked the connection. I felt warmth flow from my neck to my chest, my hips, my legs. Thank god, whole again—almost.

I spent a few minutes coughing and swallowing convulsively, clearing the juices that clogged my throat. Michael undid the handcuffs and pulled me to my feet. My legs were shaky; there was pain everywhere. But it was wonderful to feel anything beneath my neck.

Michael stretched and yawned. “Shit, I’m beat,” he said. “Been fucking you for hours, baby.” He pinched one of my nipples, making me throw my head back in pain. “Came in you twice while you were out. Once in your ass, and once—well, you saw. Think I’ll take a shower and hop right in bed.”

“But—” I looked at my cock on the floor and quickly looked away.

“Oh, yeah,” Michael said. “That. Go ahead and take it. It’s yours.”

My chest knotted with horror. “Please,” I whispered.

“What did you say? I couldn’t hear you.”

I lowered my eyes—caught a glimpse of the bare flesh between my thighs—shut my eyes tight.

“Oh please, Michael. Let me have it back. Oh please, for god’s sake—”

I felt a heavy slap across my face and knew it wasn’t his hand. His voice was deep and unctuous above me. “That’s no way to beg.”

I kept my eyes shut.

“Get on your knees and beg with your mouth.”

I knelt and took his soft meat between my lips. My face was wet with tears.

“Make me come again, Bill. It won’t be easy. Three times is usually my limit. Show me how good you are. Show me how good you suck cock. Make me come, and I’ll let you have it back. That is—if you don’t shoot first.” I heard and felt the slick crackle of flesh on flesh above my head. He was holding my hard cock and stroking it.

I sucked, and tried to think of nothing but his cock. Slowly, slowly it hardened, until the beer-bottle thickness gorged my throat. It wasn’t so easy this time. I choked, gagged, felt my gorge rise—but I never let go. I forced my throat onto him over and over, strangling myself.

“Better than your cock, isn’t it, Bill?”

Yes, he was right. His cock, so thick, so flawless, it was better.

He began to moan and twist. He was close. I was going to make it.