The Game

Hmm. What’s this boy? Right… here. My finger slowly, forcefully, pushed past the tender ring and slipped in to bump his prostate; the electric touch sending a seizure along his spine.
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“that.. that’s Daddy’s hole.”
No, I mean this.  I said as I tapped the button twice to make sure he knew what I meant.
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“that.. -mmmmpf- that’s Daddy’s -ohgod- button?” It’s adorable watching him try to fight what he can’t. I know he’s starting to get close from the way his body becomes straight as a bar when I touch his prostate and goes as limp as bed sheets on the floor.
Now tell me son what is it for? Once again asking a question with my finger sliding along his prostate, this time slowly back and forth flicking it with my finger.
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“it.-ohshit-it’s for making You -aaaahhh- ha-happy” he said trying to not sob as his body is buffeted by waves of an oncoming orgasm.
Is it? This belongs to me too? I see.. I said as I contemplated my next move. What about this?
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The moment I said ‘this’ I pulled strongly towards me, his prostate hooked against my finger. I held him tight to my chest, compressing him tightly as my finger vibrated furiously against his aching insides. His body began shuddering as I held him still so he couldn’t flop back. He was going to do what I wanted, right there against my chest. From the spasm of his ring I knew I was right: he was moments from orgasm and from his not so silent gasps and moans I knew he couldn’t answer me yet.
I leaned in and whispered, low and deep, almost growling in his ear “All of this is mine. Now, be a good boy and show Daddy how happy that makes you”.  The moment he felt the words ‘good boy’ through his back and in his ear he let out a rising moan as his body chambered each shot of his orgasm and fired, like arrows from a bow. Each time he would release his body would relax for a moment then straighten out again and again as he continued to cum as I slowly slid my finger out.
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“thank you Daddy” he cried between shudders, still trying so hard to be that good boy I say he is. I love knowing how much that means to him. He’d do anything to prove that to me, but all I ask is this one simple thing: his confession. I enjoy watching what happens to his body the moment he hears me say he belongs to me and that he’s my good boy. I don’t doubt it for a moment, but seeing how much that means to him is a beautiful thing.

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