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Previously:
Boss had beaten me. Hard. This 130-lb twink had knocked the shit out of me and then whipped my ass until it was raw and whelped. I checked the knots and realized he had tied me tightly....too tightly to escape. I didn't want anyone to see my like this, but I knew I needed some help. I sank to the floor and cried softly for a few minutes. Then I remembered my Google Home devices, placed strategically around the house (including the master bathroom where I lay). I agonized over who to call, but finally said, "OK Google, call Quentin on his mobile". He answered on the 2nd ring, heard the pain in my voice and told me he was on his way. I passed-out again....
Characters:
Me (John): WM, 44, 6', 200, ginger, muscular, alpha Boss: Asian twink, 26, 5'6", 130, smooth/lean Don: WM, 38, 5'9", 210, nerd Quentin: WM Twink, 25, 5'9, 155, smooth, blond
My Dom Asian Twink - Part 4
First let's talk about Quentin. He's a blond, surfer-type. 25, white, 5'9, 155, beautiful. I met him 4 years ago on Grindr when he was a nursing student. Initially it was sexual....I fucked him regularly and he had daddy issues that drew him to me. I made him feel safe. Over time, we began to hang out occasionally at my place or else I'd take him to a movie or dinner. Friends with benefits. We enjoyed one another's company and the sex was good....familiar and always fun. He even spent the night occasionally. I encouraged him to date younger guys and I acted as mentor and sounding-board as he navigated his young, gay life and nursing school. I was proud of him. His grades were good and he was hired immediately upon graduation. He was dating a cute guy (Doug) his age and he'd just started training as a nurse anesthetist. Quentin was special to me and I hoped I would always play some role in his life. I still fucked him occasionally, but those sessions had become less frequent since the Doug came on the scene.
I was still passed-out on the bathroom floor when I felt a presence next to me. Quentin had used his key to let himself in and he was examining me, talking gently to me. I was just regaining consciousness when I heard him say he was calling 911....that snapped me awake. "No...please. Don't call 911. I don't want anyone to know about this.", I said. "Just help me get cleaned-up and I will let you drive me to the ER if I need stitches. But just help me first, okay?, I pleaded. He gave me a long look before agreeing. He cut the necktie binding my hands and sat me upright with my back to the vanity. He started the water in the tub and tested it to make sure it wasn't too hot. I sat wordlessly watching him, unsure what to say. I knew I would have to tell him the truth...everything. We didn't keep secrets. But I was also embarrassed and ashamed. I was his protector, mentor, his "daddy". How could I explain what happened without seeming "lesser" in his eyes. He turned and said, "let's get you into the tub". He helped me up gently and kept a firm grasp around my waist as he lowered me into the tub. The water felt good, although I saw it turn rust-color as the blood soaked-off me. "Just sit there", he said. And I did.
Quentin busied himself looking for bandages, antibiotic ointment and ice. Once he'd gathered his supplies, he pulled the duvet from my bed and spread a clean, white sheet over the top to protect it. He returned to the bathroom, removed his shirt and shorts and began to sponge my wounds. I was struck by the gentleness of his touch and his natural beauty. Nursing was a perfect career for someone like Quentin. He was kind, patient and his touch was like none other for me. Quentin knew me better than nearly anyone.
When he was satisfied, Quentin drained the tub and helped me to my feet. He patted me dry very gently with a towel, pulled my arm over his shoulder and helped me to the bed. I sat down and he gave me a painkiller and some water, then rolled me onto my back. He dabbed ointment onto a couple of minor cuts, but it was the bruising that worried him. He pushed and poked, testing my ribs. He finally said, "I don't think anything is broken". He moved to my head and bandaged the cut there, which was mostly superficial. Skulls bleed easily, but the cut wasn't deep. With that, Quentin rolled me onto my stomach. Every place he touched was sore and I moaned each time he put his hands on me. But I was also beginning to relax. In an odd role reversal, Quentin's presence made me feel safe. I knew he would take care of me until I could pull myself together.
I was startled out of my reverie by Quentin's hands on my ass, inspecting it. It was red and blistered from the beating Boss had given me earlier with my own belt. Quentin applied a salve to both cheeks that soothed the burn. I sucked-in a breath as he spread my ass and began to inspect my hole briefly. Satisfied, he moved to my balls and placed an ice pack on them to reduce the swelling. Then he covered me with a blanket and snuggled gently next to me. "Sleep, John. I'll be here when you wake-up and we can talk." And I did.
I awoke a couple hours later to the smell of Thai food. I managed to get out of bed and hobble to the kitchen. Quentin stood there in a loose pair of shorts, no short, unpacking the cartons of food. If this scene had occurred two weeks ago, I would have moved behind him, wrapped my arms around him and humped my boner against his ass. But today, I simply hobbled to the chair and sat down. Quentin turned to assess me. Then he dished some Tom Yum into a bowl and put it in front of me. "Eat", he said. I sipped the sour soup for a bit and then stopped. I wasn't very hungry.
Quentin sat across from me and gave me a level gaze. "Start talking. And don't leave out any details. I'll know if you are lying to me", he said. I agreed and told him the story, every embarrassing detail. Watching his face I saw shock, horror, surprise, concern and a wee bit of amusement. He apparently took some dark pleasure in hearing that Mr Alpha (me) had been so thoroughly cowed by an Asian twink who called himself Boss. I sensed that things with Quentin would never quite be the same after this discussion.
I was sore, but nothing that wouldn't heal. The bruises were turning purple and I'd definitely look awful tomorrow. We agreed that I would take a few days off work to get myself together, mentally and physically. Quentin sensed that I was unsettled with what happened and suggested I might want to get some counseling. I declined. I wasn't even sure how I could approach the discussion. I really just wanted to ignore the change in my persona. But I knew (and Quentin sensed) that it was profound. Quentin cleaned-up the dishes and started to get his things together. It suddenly dawned on me that he was leaving...of course he was leaving. He had to work tomorrow and I'm sure he needed to study. And he had Doug, his BF, to consider. I was fine, physically, and outwardly there were no signs that he needed to stay. But as he pulled-on his shirt and leaned to kiss me on the forehead, I whispered, "Please don't leave me alone". Quentin pulled back and looked at me closely. He recognized that I was frightened before I did and knelt in front of me. "You're still scared, aren't you?", he asked. "Yes....", I responded. "No problem...let me text Doug", he said "But I have to leave early in the morning to get ready for work, okay?" "Okay", I responded. Quentin exchanged a few texts with Doug while I made my way to the bathroom. No blood in my urine, which was a miracle after the beating I took. I took another pain-killer and went back to the bedroom. I heard Quentin rattling about the house for a while, then the TV came on. I drifted off to sleep. At some point in the night, he crawled under the covers to join me. I felt him move gently next to me, slide an arm under my neck and wrap his other gently around my chest. For some reason, this gesture triggered an avalanche of emotion in me. I began to cry as Quentin held me, gently reassuring me that everything would be alright. I also felt something else....his 6 ½ incher growing hard against my ass. I suddenly needed him in a different way....I needed to show him how grateful I was for his presence. I squirmed, rolled toward him and began to move down under the covers. "John, no...." was all he managed to say. In the four years we'd been having sex, I rarely had Quentin's dick in my mouth. I satisfied him sexually by dominating and fucking him. But tonight I devoured his dick and the surprise was evident. So was the lust. He reacted with a hand on my head and began to hump my mouth. He tasted GOOD, my boy did. He was sweet and smooth and I couldn't get enough. His appreciative moans encouraged me. I licked and sucked and pleasured him until he announced he was cumming. Before today, I would have scoffed at swallowing his load. Before today, he never would have dreamed of cumming in my mouth. But neither of us paused. I increased my suction as he began to ram his cock urgently into my mouth. He exploded with a roar, as his sweet cum flooded my mouth. I was shocked at how much I savored it and enjoyed it. When he came down from his high, I swallowed. Then I gently took him from my mouth and licked the remaining drops of his seed from the base of his cock and his balls. I rolled over and snuggled back against him again and we both drifted off to a peaceful sleep.